,,english ,,prose ,a ,,series ,,of ,,related ,,essays ,,for ,,the ,,discussion ,,and ,,practice ,,of ,,the ,,art ,,of ,,writing ,,selected ,,and ,,edited ,,by ,,frederick ,,william ,,roe1 ,,ph4,d4 ,,of ,,the ,,university ,,of ,,wisconsin ,,and ,,george ,,roy ,,elliott1 ,,ph4,d4 ,,of ,,bowdoin ,,college #aiac ,,preface ,the selections in the present volume1 designed primarily for the discussion and practice in college classes of the art of composition1 have been arranged under a scheme which the editors believe to be new4 ,there are nine related groups4 ,each successive group represents a different phase of life1 beginning with character and personality1 and concluding with art and literature4 ,the whole together1 as the table of contents will show1 thus presents a body of ideas that includes practically all the great departments of human thought and interest4 ,it is evident that certain ideals of teaching composition underlie the scheme4 ,the editors believe heartily with ,pater that the chief stimulus of good style is to possess a full1 rich1 complex matter to grapple with4 ,instruction in writing1 it is to be feared1 too often neglects this sound doctrine and places an emphasis upon formal matters that seems disproportionate1 especially when form is made to appear as a thing apart4 ,form and content go together and one must not suffer at the expense of the other4 ,but a sustained interest in the ways and means of correct expression is aroused only when the student feels that he has something to express4 ,instructors often contend indeed that the ideas of undergraduates are far to seek1 and that most of the time in the class-room is therefore best spent upon formal exercises and drill4 ,the editors do not share this view4 ,they believe that there is no class of people more responsive to new ideas and impressions than college students1 and none more eager1 when normally stimulated1 to express themselves in writing4 ,they have therefore aimed to present a series of related selections that would arouse thought and provoke oral discussion in the class-room1 as well as furnish suitable models of style4 ,in most cases the pieces are too long to be adequately handled in one class hour4 ,a live topic may well be discussed for several hours1 until its various sides have been examined and students are awakened to the many questions at issue4 ,the editors have aimed1 also1 to supply selections so rich and vital in content that instructors themselves will feel challenged to add to the class discussion from their own knowledge and experience1 and so turn a stream of fresh ideas upon stock notions4 ,thus ,english composition1 which in many courses in our larger institutions is now almost the only non-special study1 can be made a direct means of liberalization in the meaning and art of life1 as well as an instrument for correct and effective writing4 ,the present volume therefore differs from others in the same field4 ,many recent collections contain pieces too short and unrelated to satisfy the ideals suggested above--ideals which1 the editors feel sure1 are held by an increasing number of teachers4 ,and older and newer collections alike have been constructed primarily with the purpose of illustrating the conventional categories1--description1 narration1 exposition4 ,teachers of composition everywhere are becoming distrustful of an arrangement which is frankly at variance with the actual practice of writing1 and are of the opinion that it is better to set the student to the task of composition without confining him too narrowly to one form of discourse4 ,the editors have deliberately avoided1 however1 the other extreme1 which is reflected in one or two recent volumes1 of choosing pieces of one type to the exclusion of all others4 ,in collections of this kind variety in form and subject-matter is fully as important as richness of content4 ,instructors who believe in the use of the types of discourse as the most practicable means of instruction1 will find all the types liberally represented in the present volume4 ,and in order to meet their requirements even more adequately1 the editors have included two short stories at the end1 as examples of narration with a plot4 ,much attention has been given to the suggestions at the end of the volume with the aim of making them practically serviceable and1 at the same time1 as free as possible from duplication of class work4 ,this aim1 the editors came to believe1 could best be attained by providing for each group of selections definite suggestions of theme-subjects to be derived by the student from supplementary readings closely related to that group4 ,f4,w4,r4 ,g4,r4,e4 ,,madison1 ,,wisconsin1 ,may1 #aiac4 ,,contents ,i4 ,,the ,,personal ,,life4 #a4 ,self-,reliance444444444444444,,ralph ,,waldo ,,emerson #b4 ,early ,education at ,herne ,hill4444444444444,,john ,,ruskin #c4 ,a ,crisis in ,my ,mental ,history444444444444,,john ,,stuart ,,mill #d4 ,old ,china4444444444444444444,,charles ,,lamb ,,ii4 ,,education4 #e4 ,what is ,education84444444444,,thomas ,,henry ,,huxley #f4 ,knowledge ,viewed in ,relation to ,learning 44444,,john ,,henry ,,newman #g4 ,literature and ,science444444,,matthew ,,arnold #h4 ,how to ,read44444444444444444,,frederic ,,harrison ,,iii4 ,,recreation ,,and ,,travels4 #i4 ,on ,going a ,journey4444444444,,william ,,hazlitt #aj4 ,regrets of a ,mountaineer4444,,leslie ,,stephen ,,iv4 ,,social ,,life ,,and ,,manners4 #aa4 ,behavior44444444444444444444,,ralph ,,waldo ,,emerson #ab4 ,manners and ,fashion444444444,,herbert ,,spencer #ac4 ,talk and ,talkers444444444444,,robert ,,louis ,,stevenson ,v4 ,,public ,,affairs4 #ad4 ,the ,social ,value of the ,college-bred4444444,,william ,,james #ae4 ,the ,law of ,human ,progress444444444444,,henry ,,george #af4 ,the ,morals of ,trade444444444,,herbert ,,spencer ,,vi4 ,,science4 #ag4 ,the ,physical ,basis of ,life4444444444444444444,,thomas ,,henry ,,huxley #ah4 ,mental ,powers of ,men and ,animals44444444444,,charles ,,darwin #ai4 ,the ,importance of ,dust444444,,alfred ,,russel ,,wallace ,,vii4 ,,nature4 #bj4 ,the ,battle of the ,ants444444,,henry ,,david ,,thoreau #ba4 ,a ,windstorm in the ,forests444444444444,,john ,,muir #bb4 ,walden ,pond44444444444444444,,henry ,,david ,,thoreau #bc4 ,extracts from ,modern ,painters44444444444,,john ,,ruskin ,,viii4 ,,conduct ,,and ,,inner ,,life4 #bd4 ,the ,stoics44 4444444444444,,william ,,edward ,,hartpole ,,lecky #be4 ,enthusiasm of ,humanity444444,,john ,,robert ,,seeley #bf4 ,loyalty and ,insight444444444,,josiah ,,royce ,,ix4 ,,literature ,,and ,,art4 #bg4 ,poetry for ,poetry's ,sake4444 ,a4,c4 ,,bradley #bh4 ,greek ,tragedy4444444444444444,g4 ,,lowes ,,dickinson #bi4 ,shakespeare444444444444444444,,thomas ,,carlyle #cj4 ,charles ,lamb44444444444444444,,walter ,,pater #ca4 ,dr4 ,heidegger's ,experiment444,,nathaniel ,,hawthorne #cb4 ,markheim444444444444444444444,,robert ,,louis ,,stevenson ,,supplementary ,,readings4 ,with some topics for ,discussion and ,composition4 ,,english ,,prose ,,self-,,reliance#a ,,ralph ,,waldo ,,emerson ,i read the other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not conventional4 ,always the soul hears an admonition in such lines1 let the subject be what it may4 ,the sentiment they instil is of more value than any thought they may contain4 ,to believe your own thought1 to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men1--that is genius4 ,speak your latent conviction1 and it shall be the universal sense2 for always the inmost becomes the outmost--and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the ,last ,judgment4 ,familiar as the voice of the mind is to each1 the highest merit we ascribe to ,moses1 ,plato and ,milton is that they set at naught books and traditions1 and spoke not what men1 but what they thought4 ,a man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within1 more than the luster of the firmament of bards and sages4 ,yet he dismisses without notice his thought1 because it is his4 ,in every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts2 they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty4 ,great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this4 ,they teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side4 ,else to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time1 and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another4 ,there is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance2 that imitation is suicide2 that he must take himself for better for worse as his portion2 that though the wide universe is full of good1 no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till4 ,the power which resides in him is new in nature1 and none but he knows what that is which he can do1 nor does he know until he has tried4 ,not for nothing one face1 one character1 one fact1 makes much impression on him1 and another none4 ,it is not without preestablished harmony1 this sculpture in the memory4 ,the eye was placed where one ray should fall1 that it might testify of that particular ray4 ,bravely let him speak the utmost syllable of his confession4 ,we but half express ourselves1 and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents4 ,it may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues1 so it be faithfully imparted1 but ,god will not have his work made manifest by cowards4 ,it needs a divine man to exhibit anything divine4 ,a man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best2 but what he has said or done otherwise shall give him no peace4 ,it is a deliverance which does not deliver4 ,in the attempt his genius deserts him2 no muse befriends2 no invention1 no hope4 ,trust thyself3 every heart vibrates to that iron string4 ,accept the place the divine providence has found for you1 the society of your contemporaries1 the connection of events4 ,great men have always done so1 and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age1 betraying their perception that the ,eternal was stirring at their heart1 working through their hands1 predominating in all their being4 ,and we are now men1 and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny2 and not pinched in a corner1 not cowards fleeing before a revolution1 but redeemers and benefactors1 pious aspirants to be noble clay under the ,almighty effort let us advance on ,chaos and the ,dark4 ,what pretty oracles nature yields us on this text in the face and behavior of children1 babes1 and even brutes4 ,that divided and rebel mind1 that distrust of a sentiment because our arithmetic has computed the strength and means opposed to our purpose1 these have not4 ,their mind being whole1 their eye is as yet unconquered1 and when we look in their faces1 we are disconcerted4 ,infancy conforms to nobody2 all conform to it2 so that one babe commonly makes four or five out of the adults who prattle and play to it4 ,so ,god has armed youth and puberty and manhood no less with its own piquancy and charm1 and made it enviable and gracious and its claims not to be put by1 if it will stand by itself4 ,do not think the youth has no force1 because he cannot speak to you and me4 ,hark6 in the next room who spoke so clear and emphatic8 ,good ,heaven6 it is he6 it is that very lump of bashfulness and phlegm which for weeks has done nothing but eat when you were by1 and now rolls out these words like bell-strokes4 ,it seems he knows how to speak to his contemporaries4 ,bashful or bold then1 he will know how to make us seniors very unnecessary4 ,the nonchalance of boys who are sure of a dinner1 and would disdain as much as a lord to do or say aught to conciliate one1 is the healthy attitude of human nature4 ,how is a boy the master of society6--independent1 irresponsible1 looking out from his corner on such people and facts as pass by1 he tries and sentences them on their merits1 in the swift1 summary way of boys1 as good1 bad1 interesting1 silly1 eloquent1 troublesome4 ,he cumbers himself never about consequences1 about interests2 he gives an independent1 genuine verdict4 ,you must court him2 he does not court you4 ,but the man is as it were clapped into jail by his consciousness4 ,as soon as he has once acted or spoken with clat he is a committed person1 watched by the sympathy or the hatred of hundreds1 whose affections must now enter into his account4 ,there is no ,lethe for this4 ,ah1 that he could pass again into his neutral1 godlike independence6 ,who can thus lose all pledge and1 having observed1 observe again from the same unaffected1 unbiased1 unbribable1 unaffrighted innocence1 must always be formidable1 must always engage the poet's and the man's regards4 ,of such an immortal youth the force would be felt4 ,he would utter opinions on all passing affairs1 which being seen to be not private but necessary1 would sink like darts into the ear of men and put them in fear4 ,these are the voices which we hear in solitude1 but they grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world4 ,society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members4 ,society is a joint-stock company1 in which the members agree1 for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder1 to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater4 ,the virtue in most request is conformity4 ,self-reliance is its aversion4 ,it loves not realities and creators1 but names and customs4 ,whoso would be a man1 must be a nonconformist4 ,he who would gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness1 but must explore if it be goodness4 ,nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of our own mind4 ,absolve you to yourself1 and you shall have the suffrage of the world4 ,i remember an answer which when quite young ,i was prompted to make to a valued adviser who was wont to importune me with the deaf old doctrines of the church4 ,on my saying1 ,what have ,i to do with the sacredness of traditions1 if ,i live wholly from within8 my friend suggested1--,but these impulses may be from below1 not from above4 ,i replied1 ,they do not seem to me to be such2 but if ,i am the devil's child1 ,i will live then from the devil4 ,no law can be sacred to me but that of my nature4 ,good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this2 the only right is what is after my constitution2 the only wrong what is against it4 ,a man is to carry himself in the presence of all opposition as if every thing were titular and ephemeral but he4 ,i am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate to badges and names1 to large societies and dead institutions4 ,every decent and well-spoken individual affects and sways me more than is right4 ,i ought to go upright and vital1 and speak the rude truth in all ways4 ,if malice and vanity wear the coat of philanthropy1 shall that pass8 ,if an angry bigot assumes this bountiful cause of ,abolition1 and comes to me with his last news from ,barbadoes1 why should ,i not say to him1 ,go love thy infant2 love thy wood-chopper2 be good-natured and modest2 have that grace2 and never varnish your hard1 uncharitable ambition with this incredible tenderness for black folk a thousand miles off4 ,thy love afar is spite at home4 ,rough and graceless would be such greeting1 but truth is handsomer than the affectation of love4 ,your goodness must have some edge to it1--else it is none4 ,the doctrine of hatred must be preached1 as the counteraction of the doctrine of love1 when that pules and whines4 ,i shun father and mother and wife and brother when my genius calls me4 ,i would write on the lintels of the door-post1 ,whim4 ,i hope it is somewhat better than whim at last1 but we cannot spend the day in explanation4 ,expect me not to show cause why ,i seek or why ,i exclude company4 ,then1 again1 do not tell me1 as a good man did to-day1 of my obligation to put all poor men in good situations4 ,are they my poor8 ,i tell thee1 thou foolish philanthropist1 that ,i grudge the dollar1 the dime1 the cent ,i give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom ,i do not belong4 ,there is a class of persons to whom by all spiritual affinity ,i am bought and sold2 for them ,i will go to prison if need be2 but your miscellaneous popular charities2 the education at college of fools2 the building of meeting-houses to the vain end to which many now stand2 alms to sots1 and the thousandfold ,relief ,societies2--though ,i confess with shame ,i sometimes succumb and give the dollar1 it is a wicked dollar1 which by-and-by ,i shall have the manhood to withhold4 ,virtues are1 in the popular estimate1 rather the exception than the rule4 ,there is the man and his virtues4 ,men do what is called a good action1 as some piece of courage or charity1 much as they would pay a fine in expiation of daily non-appearance on parade4 ,their works are done as an apology or extenuation of their living in the world1--as invalids and the insane pay a high board4 ,their virtues are penances4 ,i do not wish to expiate1 but to live4 ,my life is not an apology1 but a life4 ,it is for itself and not for a spectacle4 ,i much prefer that it should be of a lower strain1 so it be genuine and equal1 than that it should be glittering and unsteady4 ,i wish it to be sound and sweet1 and not to need diet and bleeding4 ,my life should be unique2 it should be an alms1 a battle1 a conquest1 a medicine4 ,i ask primary evidence that you are a man1 and refuse this appeal from the man to his actions4 ,i know that for myself it makes no difference whether ,i do or forbear those actions which are reckoned excellent4 ,i cannot consent to pay for a privilege where ,i have intrinsic right4 ,few and mean as my gifts may be1 ,i actually am1 and do not need for my own assurance or the assurance of my fellows any secondary testimony4 ,what ,i must do is all that concerns me1 not what the people think4 ,this rule1 equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life1 may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness4 ,it is the harder because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it4 ,it is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion2 it is easy in solitude to live after our own2 but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude4 ,the objection to conforming to usages that have become dead to you is that it scatters your force4 ,it loses your time and blurs the impression of your character4 ,if you maintain a dead church1 contribute to a dead ,bible ,society1 vote with a great party either for the ,government or against it1 spread your table like base housekeepers1--under all these screens ,i have difficulty to detect the precise man you are4 ,and of course so much force is withdrawn from your proper life4 ,but do your thing1 and ,i shall know you4 ,do your work1 and you shall reinforce yourself4 ,a man must consider what a blindman's-bluff is this game of conformity4 ,if ,i know your sect ,i anticipate your argument4 ,i hear a preacher announce for his text and topic the expediency of one of the institutions of his church4 ,do ,i not know beforehand that not possibly can he say a new and spontaneous word8 ,do ,i not know that with all this ostentation of examining the grounds of the institution he will do no such thing8 ,do ,i not know that he is pledged to himself not to look but at one side1 the permitted side1 not as a man1 but as a parish minister8 ,he is a retained attorney1 and these airs of the bench are the emptiest affectation4 ,well1 most men have bound their eyes with one or another handkerchief1 and attached themselves to some one of these communities of opinion4 ,this conformity makes them not false in a few particulars1 authors of a few lies1 but false in all particulars4 ,their every truth is not quite true4 ,their two is not the real two1 their four not the real four3 so that every word they say chagrins us and we know not where to begin to set them right4 ,meantime nature is not slow to equip us in the prison-uniform of the party to which we adhere4 ,we come to wear one cut of face and figure1 and acquire by degrees the gentlest asinine expression4 ,there is a mortifying experience in particular1 which does not fail to wreak itself also in the general history2 ,i mean the foolish face of praise1 the forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel at ease1 in answer to conversation which does not interest us4 ,the muscles1 not spontaneously moved but moved by a low usurping wilfulness1 grow tight about the outline of the face1 and make the most disagreeable sensation2 a sensation of rebuke and warning which no brave young man will suffer twice4 ,for non-conformity the world whips you with its displeasure4 ,and therefore a man must know how to estimate a sour face4 ,the bystanders look askance on him in the public street or in the friend's parlor4 ,if this aversation had its origin in contempt and resistance like his own he might well go home with a sad countenance2 but the sour faces of the multitude1 like their sweet faces1 have no deep cause1--disguise no god1 but are put on and off as the wind blows and a newspaper directs4 ,yet is the discontent of the multitude more formidable than that of the senate and the college4 ,it is easy enough for a firm man who knows the world to brook the rage of the cultivated classes4 ,their rage is decorous and prudent1 for they are timid1 as being very vulnerable themselves4 ,but when to their feminine rage the indignation of the people is added1 when the ignorant and the poor are aroused1 when the unintelligent brute force that lies at the bottom of society is made to growl and mow1 it needs the habit of magnanimity and religion to treat it godlike as a trifle of no concernment4 ,the other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency2 a reverence for our past act or word because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts1 and we are loath to disappoint them4 ,but why should you keep your head over your shoulder8 ,why drag about this monstrous corpse of your memory1 lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place8 ,suppose you should contradict yourself2 what then8 ,it seems to be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone1 scarcely even in acts of pure memory1 but to bring the past for judgment into the thousand-eyed present1 and live ever in a new day4 ,trust your emotion4 ,in your metaphysics you have denied personality to the ,deity1 yet when the devout motions of the soul come1 yield to them heart and life1 though they should clothe ,god with shape and color4 ,leave your theory1 as ,joseph his coat in the hand of the harlot1 and flee4 ,a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds1 adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines4 ,with consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do4 ,he may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall4 ,out upon your guarded lips6 ,sew them up with packthread1 do4 ,else if you would be a man speak what you think to-day in words as hard as cannon balls1 and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again1 though it contradict every thing you said to-day4 ,ah1 then1 exclaim the aged ladies1 you shall be sure to be misunderstood6 ,misunderstood6 ,it is a right fool's word4 ,is it so bad then to be misunderstood8 ,pythagoras was misunderstood1 and ,socrates1 and ,jesus1 and ,luther1 and ,copernicus1 and ,galileo1 and ,newton1 and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh4 ,to be great is to be misunderstood4 ,i suppose no man can violate his nature4 ,all the sallies of his will are rounded in by the law of his being1 as the inequalities of ,andes and ,himmaleh are insignificant in the curve of the sphere4 ,nor does it matter how you gauge and try him4 ,a character is like an acrostic or ,alexandrian stanza2--read it forward1 backward1 or across1 it still spells the same thing4 ,in this pleasing contrite wood-life which ,god allows me1 let me record day by day my honest thought without prospect or retrospect1 and1 ,i cannot doubt1 it will be found symmetrical1 though ,i mean it not and see it not4 ,my book should smell of pines and resound with the hum of insects4 ,the swallow over my window should interweave that thread or straw he carries in his bill into my web also4 ,we pass for what we are4 ,character teaches above our wills4 ,men imagine that they communicate their virtue or vice only by overt actions1 and do not see that virtue or vice emit a breath every moment4 ,fear never but you shall be consistent in whatever variety of actions1 so they be each honest and natural in their hour4 ,for of one will1 the actions will be harmonious1 however unlike they seem4 ,these varieties are lost sight of when seen at a little distance1 at a little height of thought4 ,one tendency unites them all4 ,the voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks4 ,this is only microscopic criticism4 ,see the line from a sufficient distance1 and it straightens itself to the average tendency4 ,your genuine action will explain itself and will explain your other genuine actions4 ,your conformity explains nothing4 ,act singly1 and what you have already done singly will justify you now4 ,greatness always appeals to the future4 ,if ,i can be great enough now to do right and scorn eyes1 ,i must have done so much right before as to defend me now4 ,be it how it will1 do right now4 ,always scorn appearances and you always may4 ,the force of character is cumulative4 ,all the foregone days of virtue work their health into this4 ,what makes the majesty of the heroes of the senate and the field1 which so fills the imagination8 ,the consciousness of a train of great days and victories behind4 ,there they all stand and shed an united light on the advancing actor4 ,he is attended as by a visible escort of angels to every man's eye4 ,that is it which throws thunder into ,chatham's voice1 and dignity into ,washington's port1 and ,america into ,adams's eye4 ,honor is venerable to us because it is no ephemeris4 ,it is always ancient virtue4 ,we worship it to-day because it is not of to-day4 ,we love it and pay it homage because it is not a trap for our love and homage1 but is self-dependent1 self-derived1 and therefore of an old immaculate pedigree1 even if shown in a young person4 ,i hope in these days we have heard the last of conformity and consistency4 ,let the words be gazetted and ridiculous henceforward4 ,instead of the gong for dinner1 let us hear a whistle from the ,spartan fife4 ,let us bow and apologize never more4 ,a great man is coming to eat at my house4 ,i do not wish to please him2 ,i wish that he should wish to please me4 ,i will stand here for humanity1 and though ,i would make it kind1 ,i would make it true4 ,let us affront and reprimand the smooth mediocrity and squalid contentment of the times1 and hurl in the face of custom and trade and office1 the fact which is the upshot of all history1 that there is a great responsible ,thinker and ,actor moving wherever moves a man2 that a true man belongs to no other time or place1 but is the center of things4 ,where he is1 there is nature4 ,he measures you and all men and all events4 ,you are constrained to accept his standard4 ,ordinarily1 every body in society reminds us of somewhat else1 or of some other person4 ,character1 reality1 reminds you of nothing else2 it takes place of the whole creation4 ,the man must be so much that he must make all circumstances indifferent--put all means into the shade4 ,this3 all great men are and do4 ,every true man is a cause1 a country1 and an age2 requires infinite spaces and numbers and time fully to accomplish his thought2--and posterity seem to follow his steps as a procession4 ,a man ,caesar is born1 and for ages after we have a ,roman ,empire4 ,christ is born1 and millions of minds so grow and cleave to his genius that he is confounded with virtue and the possible of man4 ,an institution is the lengthened shadow of one man2 as1 the ,reformation1 of ,luther2 ,quakerism1 of ,fox2 ,methodism1 of ,wesley2 ,abolition1 of ,clarkson4 ,scipio1 ,milton called the height of ,rome2 and all history resolves itself very easily into the biography of a few stout and earnest persons4 ,let a man then know his worth1 and keep things under his feet4 ,let him not peep or steal1 or skulk up and down with the air of a charity-boy1 a bastard1 or an interloper in the world which exists for him4 ,but the man in the street1 finding no worth in himself which corresponds to the force which built a tower or sculptured a marble god1 feels poor when he looks on these4 ,to him a palace1 a statue1 or a costly book has an alien and forbidding air1 much like a gay equipage1 and seems to say like that1 ,who are you1 sir8 ,yet they all are his1 suitors for his notice1 petitioners to his faculties that they will come out and take possession4 ,the picture waits for my verdict2 it is not to command me1 but ,i am to settle its claim to praise4 ,that popular fable of the sot who was picked up dead drunk in the street1 carried to the duke's house1 washed and dressed and laid in the duke's bed1 and1 on his waking1 treated with all obsequious ceremony like the duke1 and assured that he had been insane--owes its popularity to the fact that it symbolizes so well the state of man1 who is in the world a sort of sot1 but now and then wakes up1 exercises his reason and finds himself a true prince4 ,our reading is mendicant and sycophantic4 ,in history our imagination makes fools of us1 plays us false4 ,kingdom and lordship1 power and estate1 are a gaudier vocabulary than private ,john and ,edward in a small house and common day's work3 but the things of life are the same to both3 the sum total of both is the same4 ,why all this deference to ,alfred and ,scanderbeg and ,gustavus8 ,suppose they were virtuous2 did they wear out virtue8 ,as great a stake depends on your private act to-day as followed their public and renowned steps4 ,when private men shall act with original views1 the luster will be transferred from the actions of kings to those of gentlemen4 ,the world has indeed been instructed by its kings1 who have so magnetized the eyes of nations4 ,it has been taught by this colossal symbol the mutual reverence that is due from man to man4 ,the joyful loyalty with which men have everywhere suffered the king1 the noble1 or the great proprietor to walk among them1 by a law of his own1 make his own scale of men and things and reverse theirs1 pay for benefits not with money but with honor1 and represent the ,law in his person1 was the hieroglyphic by which they obscurely signified their consciousness of their own right and comeliness1 the right of every man4 ,the magnetism which all original action exerts is explained when we inquire the reason of self-trust4 ,who is the ,trustee8 ,what is the aboriginal ,self1 on which a universal reliance may be grounded8 ,what is the nature and power of that science-baffling star1 without parallax1 without calculable elements1 which shoots a ray of beauty even into trivial and impure actions1 if the least mark of independence appear8 ,the inquiry leads us to that source1 at once the essence of genius1 the essence of virtue1 and the essence of life1 which we call ,spontaneity or ,instinct4 ,we denote this primary wisdom as ,intuition1 whilst all later teachings are tuitions4 ,in that deep force1 the last fact behind which analysis cannot go1 all things find their common origin4 ,for the sense of being which in calm hours rises1 we know not how1 in the soul1 is not diverse from things1 from space1 from light1 from time1 from man1 but one with them and proceedeth obviously from the same source whence their life and being also proceedeth4 ,we first share the life by which things exist and afterward see them as appearances in nature and forget that we have shared their cause4 ,here is the fountain of action and the fountain of thought4 ,here are the lungs of that inspiration which giveth man wisdom1 of that inspiration of man which cannot be denied without impiety and atheism4 ,we lie in the lap of immense intelligence1 which makes us organs of its activity and receivers of its truth4 ,when we discern justice1 when we discern truth1 we do nothing of ourselves1 but allow a passage to its beams4 ,if we ask whence this comes1 if we seek to pry into the soul that causes--all metaphysics1 all philosophy is at fault4 ,its presence or its absence is all we can affirm4 ,every man discerns between the voluntary acts of his mind and his involuntary perceptions4 ,and to his involuntary perceptions3 he knows a perfect respect is due4 ,he may err in the expression of them1 but he knows that these things are so1 like day and night1 not to be disputed4 ,all my wilful actions and acquisitions are but roving2--the most trivial reverie1 the faintest native emotion1 are domestic and divine4 ,thoughtless people contradict as readily the statement of perceptions as of opinions1 or rather much more readily2 for they do not distinguish between perception and notion4 ,they fancy that ,i choose to see this or that thing4 ,but perception is not whimsical1 but fatal4 ,if ,i see a trait1 my children will see it after me1 and in course of time all mankind1--although it may chance that no one has seen it before me4 ,for my perception of it is as much a fact as the sun4 ,the relations of the soul to the divine spirit are so pure that it is profane to seek to interpose helps4 ,it must be that when ,god speaketh he should communicate1 not one thing1 but all things2 should fill the world with his voice2 should scatter forth light1 nature1 time1 souls1 from the center of the present thought2 and new date and new create the whole4 ,whenever a mind is simple and receives a divine wisdom1 then old things pass away1--means1 teachers1 texts1 temples fall2 it lives now1 and absorbs past and future into the present hour4 ,all things are made sacred by relation to it1--one thing as much as another4 ,all things are dissolved to their center by their cause1 and in the universal miracle petty and particular miracles disappear4 ,this is and must be4 ,if therefore a man claims to know and speak of ,god and carries you backward to the phraseology of some old moldered nation in another country1 in another world1 believe him not4 ,is the acorn better than the oak which is its fulness and completion8 ,is the parent better than the child into whom he has cast his ripened being8 ,whence then this worship of the past8 ,the centuries are conspirators against the sanity and majesty of the soul4 ,time and space are but physiological colors which the eye maketh1 but the soul is light2 where it is1 is day2 where it was1 is night2 and history is an impertinence and an injury if it be any thing more than a cheerful apologue or parable of my being and becoming4 ,man is timid and apologetic2 he is no longer upright2 he dares not say ,i think1 ,i am1 but quotes some saint or sage4 ,he is ashamed before the blade of grass or the blowing rose4 ,these roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones2 they are for what they are2 they exist with ,god to-day4 ,there is no time to them4 ,there is simply the rose2 it is perfect in every moment of its existence4 ,before a leaf-bud has burst1 its whole life acts2 in the full-blown flower there is no more2 in the leafless root there is no less4 ,its nature is satisfied and it satisfies nature in all moments alike4 ,there is no time to it4 ,but man postpones or remembers2 he does not live in the present1 but with reverted eye laments the past1 or1 heedless of the riches that surround him1 stands on tiptoe to foresee the future4 ,he cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present1 above time4 ,this should be plain enough4 ,yet see what strong intellects dare not yet hear ,god himself unless he speak the phraseology of ,i know not what ,david1 or ,jeremiah1 or ,paul4 ,we shall not always set so great a price on a few texts1 on a few lives4 ,we are like children who repeat by rote the sentences of grandames and tutors1 and1 as they grow older1 of the men of talents and character they chance to see1--painfully recollecting the exact words they spoke2 afterward1 when they come into the point of view which those had who uttered these sayings1 they understand them and are willing to let the words go2 for at any time they can use words as good when occasion comes4 ,so was it with us1 so will it be1 if we proceed4 ,if we live truly1 we shall see truly4 ,it is as easy for the strong man to be strong1 as it is for the weak to be weak4 ,when we have new perception1 we shall gladly disburden the memory of its hoarded treasures as old rubbish4 ,when a man lives with ,god1 his voice shall be as sweet as the murmur of the brook and the rustle of the corn4 ,and now at last the highest truth on this subject remains unsaid2 probably cannot be said2 for all that we say is the far off remembering of the intuition3 ,that thought1 by what ,i can now nearest approach to say it1 is this3 ,when good is near you1 when you have life in yourself1--it is not by any known or appointed way2 you shall not discern the foot-prints of any other2 you shall not see the face of man2 you shall not hear any name2--the way1 the thought1 the good1 shall be wholly strange and new4 ,it shall exclude all other being4 ,you take the way from man1 not to man4 ,all persons that ever existed are its fugitive ministers4 ,there shall be no fear in it4 ,fear and hope are alike beneath it4 ,it asks nothing4 ,there is somewhat low even in hope4 ,we are then in vision4 ,there is nothing that can be called gratitude1 nor properly joy4 ,the soul is raised over passion4 ,it seeth identity and eternal causation4 ,it is a perceiving that ,truth and ,right are4 ,hence it becomes a ,tranquillity out of the knowing that all things go well4 ,vast spaces of nature2 the ,atlantic ,ocean1 the ,south ,sea2 vast intervals of time1 years1 centuries1 are of no account4 ,this which ,i think and feel underlay that former state of life and circumstances1 as it does underlie my present and will always all circumstances1 and what is called life and what is called death4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #a3 ,from ,essays1 ,first ,series1 #ahda2 the second half of the essay has here been omitted4 ,,early ,,education ,,at ,,herne ,,hill#b ,,john ,,ruskin ,when ,i was about four years old my father found himself able to buy the lease of a house on ,herne ,hill1 a rustic eminence four miles south of the ,standard in ,cornhill2 of which the leafy seclusion remains1 in all essential points of character1 unchanged to this day3 certain ,gothic splendours1 lately indulged in by our wealthier neighbours1 being the only serious innovations2 and these are so graciously concealed by the fine trees of their grounds1 that the passing viator remains unappalled by them2 and ,i can still walk up and down the piece of road between the ,fox tavern and the ,herne ,hill station1 imagining myself four years old4 ,our house was the northernmost of a group which stand accurately on the top or dome of the hill1 where the ground is for a small space level1 as the snows are1 7,i understand71 on the dome of ,mont ,blanc2 presently falling1 however1 in what may be1 in the ,london clay formation1 considered a precipitous slope1 to our valley of ,chamouni 7or of ,dulwich7 on the east2 and with a softer descent into ,cold ,harbor lane on the west3 on the south1 no less beautifully declining to the dale of the ,effra1 7doubtless shortened from ,effrena1 signifying the ,unbridled river2 recently1 ,i regret to say1 bricked over for the convenience of ,mr4 ,biffin1 chemist1 and others72 while on the north1 prolonged indeed with slight depression some half mile or so1 and receiving1 in the parish of ,lambeth1 the chivalric title of ,champion ,hill1 it plunges down at last to efface itself in the plains of ,peckham1 and the rural barbarism of ,goose ,green4 ,the group1 of which our house was the quarter1 consisted of two precisely similar partner-couples of houses1 gardens and all to match2 still the two highest blocks of buildings seen from ,norwood on the crest of the ridge2 so that the house itself1 three-storied1 with garrets above1 commanded1 in those comparatively smokeless days1 a very notable view from its garret windows1 of the ,norwood hills on one side1 and the winter sunrise over them2 and of the valley of the ,thames on the other1 with ,windsor telescopically clear in the distance1 and ,harrow1 conspicuous always in fine weather to open vision against the summer sunset4 ,it had front and back garden in sufficient proportion to its size2 the front1 richly set with old evergreens1 and well-grown lilac and laburnum2 the back1 seventy yards long by twenty wide1 renowned over all the hill for its pears and apples1 which had been chosen with extreme care by our predecessor1 7shame on me to forget the name of a man to whom ,i owe so much67--and possessing also a strong old mulberry tree1 a tall white-heart cherry tree1 a black ,kentish one1 and an almost unbroken hedge1 all round1 of alternate gooseberry and currant bush2 decked1 in due season1 7for the ground was wholly beneficent71 with magical splendour of abundant fruit3 fresh green1 soft amber1 and rough-bristled crimson bending the spinous branches2 clustered pearl and pendent ruby joyfully discoverable under the large leaves that looked like vine4 ,the differences of primal importance which ,i observed between the nature of this garden1 and that of ,eden1 as ,i had imagined it1 were1 that1 in this one1 all the fruit was forbidden2 and there were no companionable beasts3 in other respects the little domain answered every purpose of paradise to me2 and the climate1 in that cycle of our years1 allowed me to pass most of my life in it4 ,my mother never gave me more to learn than she knew ,i could easily get learnt1 if ,i set myself honestly to work1 by twelve o'clock4 ,she never allowed anything to disturb me when my task was set2 if it was not said rightly by twelve o'clock1 ,i was kept in till ,i knew it1 and in general1 even when ,latin ,grammar came to supplement the ,psalms1 ,i was my own master for at least an hour before half-past one dinner1 and for the rest of the afternoon4 ,my mother1 herself finding her chief personal pleasure in her flowers1 was often planting1 or pruning beside me1 at least if ,i chose to stay beside her4 ,i never thought of doing anything behind her back which ,i would not have done before her face2 and her presence was therefore no restraint to me2 but1 also1 no particular pleasure1 for1 from having always been left so much alone1 ,i had generally my own little affairs to see after2 and1 on the whole1 by the time ,i was seven years old1 was already getting too independent1 mentally1 even of my father and mother2 and1 having nobody else to be dependent upon1 began to lead a very small1 perky1 contented1 conceited1 ,cock-,robinson-,crusoe sort of life1 in the central point which it appeared to me1 7as it must naturally appear to geometrical animals71 that ,i occupied in the universe4 ,this was partly the fault of my father's modesty2 and partly of his pride4 ,he had so much more confidence in my mother's judgment as to such matters than in his own1 that he never ventured even to help1 much less to cross her1 in the conduct of my education2 on the other hand1 in the fixed purpose of making an ecclesiastical gentleman of me1 with the superfinest of manners1 and access to the highest circles of fleshly and spiritual society1 the visits to ,croydon1 where ,i entirely loved my aunt1 and young baker-cousins1 became rarer and more rare3 the society of our neighbours on the hill could not be had without breaking up our regular and sweetly selfish manner of living2 and on the whole1 ,i had nothing animate to care for1 in a childish way1 but myself1 some nests of ants1 which the gardener would never leave undisturbed for me1 and a sociable bird or two2 though ,i never had the sense or perseverance to make one really tame4 ,but that was partly because1 if ever ,i managed to bring one to be the least trustful of me1 the cats got it4 ,under these circumstances1 what powers of imagination ,i possessed1 either fastened themselves on inanimate things1--the sky1 the leaves1 and pebbles1 observable within the walls of ,eden1--or caught at any opportunity of flight into regions of romance1 compatible with the objective realities of existence in the nineteenth century1 within a mile and a quarter of ,camberwell ,green4 ,herein my father1 happily1 though with no definite intention other than of pleasing me1 when he found he could do so without infringing any of my mother's rules1 became my guide4 ,i was particularly fond of watching him shave2 and was always allowed to come into his room in the morning 7under the one in which ,i am now writing71 to be the motionless witness of that operation4 ,over his dressing-table hung one of his own water-colour drawings1 made under the teaching of the elder ,nasmyth2 ,i believe1 at the ,high ,school of ,edinburgh4 ,it was done in the early manner of tinting1 which1 just about the time when my father was at the ,high ,school1 ,dr4 ,munro was teaching ,turner2 namely1 in gray under-tints of ,prussian blue and ,british ink1 washed with warm colour afterwards on the lights4 ,it represented ,conway ,castle1 with its ,frith1 and1 in the foreground1 a cottage1 a fisherman1 and a boat at the water's edge4 ,when my father had finished shaving1 he always told me a story about this picture4 ,the custom began without any initial purpose of his1 in consequence of my troublesome curiosity whether the fisherman lived in the cottage1 and where he was going to in the boat4 ,it being settled1 for peace' sake1 that he did live in the cottage1 and was going in the boat to fish near the castle1 the plot of the drama afterwards gradually thickened2 and became1 ,i believe1 involved with that of the tragedy of ,douglas1 and of the ,castle ,specter1 in both of which pieces my father had performed in private theatricals1 before my mother1 and a select ,edinburgh audience1 when he was a boy of sixteen1 and she1 at grave twenty1 a model housekeeper1 and very scornful and religiously suspicious of theatricals4 ,but she was never weary of telling me1 in later years1 how beautiful my father looked in his ,highland dress1 with the high black feathers4 ,in the afternoons1 when my father returned 7always punctually7 from his business1 he dined1 at half-past four1 in the front parlour1 my mother sitting beside him to hear the events of the day1 and give counsel and encouragement with respect to the same2--chiefly the last1 for my father was apt to be vexed if orders for sherry fell the least short of their due standard1 even for a day or two4 ,i was never present at this time1 however1 and only avouch what ,i relate by hearsay and probable conjecture2 for between four and six it would have been a grave misdemeanour in me if ,i so much as approached the parlour door4 ,after that1 in summer time1 we were all in the garden as long as the day lasted2 tea under the white-heart cherry tree2 or in winter and rough weather1 at six o'clock in the drawing-room1--,i having my cup of milk1 and slice of bread-and-butter1 in a little recess1 with a table in front of it1 wholly sacred to me2 and in which ,i remained in the evenings as an ,idol in a niche1 while my mother knitted1 and my father read to her1--and to me1 so far as ,i chose to listen4 ,the series of the ,waverley novels1 then drawing towards its close1 was still the chief source of delight in all households caring for literature2 and ,i can no more recollect the time when ,i did not know them than when ,i did not know the ,bible2 but ,i have still a vivid remembrance of my father's intense expression of sorrow mixed with scorn1 as he threw down ,count ,robert of ,paris1 after reading three or four pages2 and knew that the life of ,scott was ended3 the scorn being a very complex and bitter feeling in him1--partly1 indeed1 of the book itself1 but chiefly of the wretches who were tormenting and selling the wrecked intellect1 and not a little1 deep down1 of the subtle dishonesty which had essentially caused the ruin4 ,my father never could forgive ,scott his concealment of the ,ballantyne partnership4 ,such being the salutary pleasures of ,herne ,hill1 ,i have next with deeper gratitude to chronicle what ,i owe to my mother for the resolutely consistent lessons which so exercised me in the ,scriptures as to make every word of them familiar to my ear in habitual music1--yet in that familiarity reverenced1 as transcending all thought1 and ordaining all conduct4 ,this she effected1 not by her own sayings or personal authority2 but simply by compelling me to read the book thoroughly1 for myself4 ,as soon as ,i was able to read with fluency1 she began a course of ,bible work with me1 which never ceased till ,i went to ,oxford4 ,she read alternate verses with me1 watching1 at first1 every intonation of my voice1 and correcting the false ones1 till she made me understand the verse1 if within my reach1 rightly1 and energetically4 ,it might be beyond me altogether2 that she did not care about2 but she made sure that as soon as ,i got hold of it at all1 ,i should get hold of it by the right end4 ,in this way she began with the first verse of ,genesis1 and went straight through1 to the last verse of the ,apocalypse2 hard names1 numbers1 ,levitical law1 and all2 and began again at ,genesis the next day4 ,if a name was hard1 the better the exercise in pronunciation1--if the chapter was tiresome1 the better lesson in patience1--if loathsome1 the better lesson in faith that there was some use in its being so outspoken4 ,after our chapters1 7from two to three a day1 according to their length1 the first thing after breakfast1 and no interruption from servants allowed1--none from visitors1 who either joined in the reading or had to stay upstairs1--and none from any visitings or excursions1 except real travelling71 ,i had to learn a few verses by heart1 or repeat1 to make sure ,i had not lost1 something of what was already known2 and1 with the chapters thus gradually possessed from the first word to the last1 ,i had to learn the whole body of the fine old ,scottish paraphrases1 which are good1 melodious1 and forceful verse2 and to which1 together with the ,bible itself1 ,i owe the first cultivation of my ear in sound4 ,it is strange that of all the pieces of the ,bible which my mother thus taught me1 that which cost me most to learn1 and which was1 to my child's mind1 chiefly repulsive--the #aaith ,psalm--has now become of all the most precious to me1 in its overflowing and glorious passion of love for the ,law of ,god1 in opposition to the abuse of it by modern preachers of what they imagine to be ,his gospel4 ,but it is only by deliberate effort that ,i recall the long morning hours of toil1 as regular as sunrise1--toil on both sides equal1--by which1 year after year1 my mother forced me to learn these paraphrases1 and chapters1 7the eighth of #ast ,kings being one--try it1 good reader1 in a leisure hour67 allowing not so much as a syllable to be missed or misplaced2 while every sentence was required to be said over and over again till she was satisfied with the accent of it4 ,i recollect a struggle between us of about three weeks1 concerning the accent of the of in the lines ,shall any following spring revive ,the ashes of the urn8-- ,i insisting1 partly in childish obstinacy1 and partly in true instinct for rhythm1 7being wholly careless on the subject both of urns and their contents71 on reciting it with an accented of4 ,it was not1 ,i say1 till after three weeks' labor1 that my mother got the accent lightened on the of and laid on the ashes1 to her mind4 ,but had it taken three years she would have done it1 having once undertaken to do it4 ,and1 assuredly1 had she not done it1--well1 there's no knowing what would have happened2 but ,i'm very thankful she did4 ,i have just opened my oldest 7in use7 ,bible1--a small1 closely1 and very neatly printed volume it is1 printed in ,edinburgh by ,sir ,d4 ,hunter ,blair and ,j4 ,bruce1 ,printers1 to the ,king's ,most ,excellent ,majesty1 in #ahaf4 ,yellow1 now1 with age1 and flexible1 but not unclean1 with much use1 except that the lower corners of the pages at #hth of #ast ,kings1 and #cb;d ,deuteronomy1 are worn somewhat thin and dark1 the learning of these two chapters having cost me much pains4 ,my mother's list of the chapters with which1 thus learned1 she established my soul in life1 has just fallen out of it4 ,i will take what indulgence the incurious reader can give me1 for printing the list thus accidentally occurrent3 ,exodus1 chapters #aeth and #bjth4 #b ,samuel1 #ast1 from #agth verse to end4 #a ,kings1 #hth4 ,psalms1 #bc;d1 #cb;d1 #ijth1 #iast1 #ajc;d1 #aabth1 #aaith1 #acith4 ,proverbs1 #b;d1 #c;d1 #hth1 #abth4 ,isaiah1 #ehth4 ,matthew1 #eth1 #fth1 #gth4 ,acts1 #bfth4 #a ,corinthians1 #acth1 #aeth4 ,james1 #dth4 ,revelation1 #eth1 #fth4 ,and1 truly1 though ,i have picked up the elements of a little further knowledge--in mathematics1 meteorology1 and the like1 in after life1--and owe not a little to the teaching of many people1 this maternal installation of my mind in that property of chapters1 ,i count very confidently the most precious1 and1 on the whole1 the one essential part of all my education4 ,and it is perhaps already time to mark what advantage and mischief1 by the chances of life up to seven years old1 had been irrevocably determined for me4 ,i will first count my blessings 7as a not unwise friend once recommended me to do1 continually2 whereas ,i have a bad trick of always numbering the thorns in my fingers and not the bones in them74 ,and for best and truest beginning of all blessings1 ,i had been taught the perfect meaning of ,peace1 in thought1 act1 and word4 ,i never had heard my father's or mother's voice once raised in any question with each other2 nor seen an angry1 or even slightly hurt or offended1 glance in the eyes of either4 ,i had never heard a servant scolded2 nor even suddenly1 passionately1 or in any severe manner1 blamed4 ,i had never seen a moment's trouble or disorder in any household matter2 nor anything whatever either done in a hurry1 or undone in due time4 ,i had no conception of such a feeling as anxiety2 my father's occasional vexation in the afternoons1 when he had only got an order for twelve butts after expecting one for fifteen1 as ,i have just stated1 was never manifested to me2 and itself related only to the question whether his name would be a step higher or lower in the year's list of sherry exporters2 for he never spent more than half his income1 and therefore found himself little incommoded by occasional variations in the total of it4 ,i had never done any wrong that ,i knew of--beyond occasionally delaying the commitment to heart of some improving sentence1 that ,i might watch a wasp on the window pane1 or a bird in the cherry tree2 and ,i had never seen any grief4 ,next to this quite priceless gift of ,peace1 ,i had received the perfect understanding of the natures of ,obedience and ,faith4 ,i obeyed word1 or lifted finger1 of father or mother1 simply as a ship her helm2 not only without idea of resistance1 but receiving the direction as a part of my own life and force1 a helpful law1 as necessary to me in every moral action as the law of gravity in leaping4 ,and my practice in ,faith was soon complete3 nothing ever threatened me that was not inflicted1 and nothing ever told me that was not true4 ,peace1 obedience1 faith2 these three for chief good2 next to these1 the habit of fixed attention with both eyes and mind--on which ,i will not further enlarge at this moment1 this being the main practical faculty of my life1 causing ,mazzini to say of me1 in conversation authentically reported1 a year or two before his death1 that ,i had the most analytic mind in ,europe4 ,an opinion in which1 so far as ,i am acquainted with ,europe1 ,i am myself entirely disposed to concur4 ,lastly1 an extreme perfection in palate and all other bodily senses1 given by the utter prohibition of cake1 wine1 comfits1 or1 except in carefulest restriction1 fruit2 and by fine preparation of what food was given me4 ,such ,i esteem the main blessings of my childhood2--next1 let me count the equally dominant calamities4 ,first1 that ,i had nothing to love4 ,my parents were--in a sort--visible powers of nature to me1 no more loved than the sun and the moon3 only ,i should have been annoyed and puzzled if either of them had gone out2 7how much1 now1 when both are darkened67--still less did ,i love ,god2 not that ,i had any quarrel with ,him1 or fear of ,him2 but simply found what people told me was ,his service1 disagreeable2 and what people told me was ,his book1 not entertaining4 ,i had no companions to quarrel with1 neither2 nobody to assist1 and nobody to thank4 ,not a servant was ever allowed to do anything for me1 but what it was their duty to do2 and why should ,i have been grateful to the cook for cooking1 or the gardener for gardening1--when the one dared not give me a baked potato without asking leave1 and the other would not let my ants' nests alone1 because they made the walks untidy8 ,the evil consequence of all this was not1 however1 what might perhaps have been expected1 that ,i grew up selfish or unaffectionate2 but that1 when affection did come1 it came with violence utterly rampant and unmanageable1 at least by me1 who never before had anything to manage4 ,for 7second of chief calamities7 ,i had nothing to endure4 ,danger or pain of any kind ,i knew not3 my strength was never exercised1 my patience never tried1 and my courage never fortified4 ,not that ,i was ever afraid of anything1--either ghosts1 thunder1 or beasts2 and one of the nearest approaches to insubordination which ,i was ever tempted into as a child1 was in passionate effort to get leave to play with the lion's cubs in ,wombwell's menagerie4 ,thirdly1 ,i was taught no precision nor etiquette of manners2 it was enough if1 in the little society we saw1 ,i remained unobtrusive1 and replied to a question without shyness3 but the shyness came later1 and increased as ,i grew conscious of the rudeness arising from the want of social discipline1 and found it impossible to acquire1 in advanced life1 dexterity in any bodily exercise1 skill in any pleasing accomplishment1 or ease and tact in ordinary behaviour4 ,lastly1 and chief of evils4 ,my judgment of right and wrong1 and powers of independent action1 were left entirely undeveloped2 because the bridle and blinkers were never taken off me4 ,children should have their times of being off duty1 like soldiers2 and when once the obedience1 if required1 is certain1 the little creature should be very early put for periods of practice in complete command of itself2 set on the barebacked horse of its own will1 and left to break it by its own strength4 ,but the ceaseless authority exercised over my youth left me1 when cast out at last into the world1 unable for some time to do more than drift with its vortices4 ,my present verdict1 therefore1 on the general tenor of my education at that time1 must be1 that it was at once too formal and too luxurious2 leaving my character1 at the most important moment for its construction1 cramped indeed1 but not disciplined2 and only by protection innocent1 instead of by practice virtuous4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #b3 ,from ,praeterita1 #ahhe1 ,vol4 ,i1 ,chapter ,,ii4 ,a ,,crisis ,,in ,,my ,,mental ,,history#c ,,john ,,stuart ,,mill ,from the winter of #ahba1 when ,i first read ,bentham1 and especially from the commencement of the ,westminster ,review1 ,i had what might truly be called an object in life2 to be a reformer of the world4 ,my conception of my own happiness was entirely identified with this object4 ,the personal sympathies ,i wished for were those of fellow labourers in this enterprise4 ,i endeavoured to pick up as many flowers as ,i could by the way2 but as a serious and permanent personal satisfaction to rest upon1 my whole reliance was placed on this2 and ,i was accustomed to felicitate myself on the certainty of a happy life which ,i enjoyed1 through placing my happiness in something durable and distant1 in which some progress might be always making1 while it could never be exhausted by complete attainment4 ,this did very well for several years1 during which the general improvement going on in the world and the idea of myself as engaged with others in struggling to promote it1 seemed enough to fill up an interesting and animated existence4 ,but the time came when ,i awakened from this as from a dream4 ,it was in the autumn of #ahbf4 ,i was in a dull state of nerves1 such as everybody is occasionally liable to2 unsusceptible to enjoyment or pleasurable excitement2 one of those moods when what is pleasure at other times1 becomes insipid or indifferent2 the state1 ,i should think1 in which converts to ,methodism usually are1 when smitten by their first conviction of sin4 ,in this frame of mind it occurred to me to put the question directly to myself3 ,suppose that all your objects in life were realised2 that all the changes in institutions and opinions which you are looking forward to1 could be completely effected at this very instant3 would this be a great joy and happiness to you8 ,and an irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly answered1 ,no6 ,at this my heart sank within me3 the whole foundation on which my life was constructed fell down4 ,all my happiness was to have been found in the continual pursuit of this end4 ,the end had ceased to charm1 and how could there ever again be any interest in the means8 ,i seemed to have nothing left to live for4 ,at first ,i hoped that the cloud would pass away of itself2 but it did not4 ,a night's sleep1 the sovereign remedy for the smaller vexations of life1 had no effect on it4 ,i awoke to a renewed consciousness of the woful fact4 ,i carried it with me into all companies1 into all occupations4 ,hardly anything had power to cause me even a few minutes' oblivion of it4 ,for some months the cloud seemed to grow thicker and thicker4 ,the lines in ,coleridge's ,dejection--,i was not then acquainted with them--exactly describe my case3 ,a grief without a pang1 void1 dark and drear1 ,a drowsy1 stifled1 unimpassioned grief1 ,which finds no natural outlet or relief ,in word1 or sigh1 or tear4 ,in vain ,i sought relief from my favourite books2 those memorials of past nobleness and greatness from which ,i had always hitherto drawn strength and animation4 ,i read them now without feeling1 or with the accustomed feeling minus all its charm2 and ,i became persuaded1 that my love of mankind1 and of excellence for its own sake1 had worn itself out4 ,i sought no comfort by speaking to others of what ,i felt4 ,if ,i had loved any one sufficiently to make confiding my griefs a necessity1 ,i should not have been in the condition ,i was4 ,i felt1 too1 that mine was not an interesting1 or in any way respectable distress4 ,there was nothing in it to attract sympathy4 ,advice1 if ,i had known where to seek it1 would have been most precious4 ,the words of ,macbeth to the physician often occurred to my thoughts4 ,but there was no one on whom ,i could build the faintest hope of such assistance4 ,my father1 to whom it would have been natural to me to have recourse in any practical difficulties1 was the last person to whom1 in such a case as this1 ,i looked for help4 ,everything convinced me that he had no knowledge of any such mental state as ,i was suffering from1 and that even if he could be made to understand it1 he was not the physician who could heal it4 ,my education1 which was wholly his work1 had been conducted without any regard to the possibility of its ending in this result2 and ,i saw no use in giving him the pain of thinking that his plans had failed1 when the failure was probably irremediable1 and1 at all events1 beyond the power of his remedies4 ,of other friends1 ,i had at that time none to whom ,i had any hope of making my condition intelligible4 ,it was1 however1 abundantly intelligible to myself2 and the more ,i dwelt upon it1 the more hopeless it appeared4 ,my course of study had led me to believe1 that all mental and moral feelings and qualities1 whether of a good or of a bad kind1 were the results of association2 that we love one thing1 and hate another1 take pleasure in one sort of action or contemplation1 and pain in another sort1 through the clinging of pleasurable or painful ideas to those things1 from the effect of education or of experience4 ,as a corollary from this1 ,i had always heard it maintained by my father1 and was myself convinced1 that the object of education should be to form the strongest possible associations of the salutary class2 associations of pleasure with all things beneficial to the great whole1 and of pain with all things hurtful to it4 ,this doctrine appeared inexpugnable2 but it now seemed to me1 on retrospect1 that my teachers had occupied themselves but superficially with the means of forming and keeping up these salutary associations4 ,they seemed to have trusted altogether to the old familiar instruments1 praise and blame1 reward and punishment4 ,now1 ,i did not doubt that by these means1 begun early1 and applied unremittingly1 intense associations of pain and pleasure1 especially of pain1 might be created1 and might produce desires and aversions capable of lasting undiminished to the end of life4 ,but there must always be something artificial and casual in associations thus produced4 ,the pains and pleasures thus forcibly associated with things1 are not connected with them by any natural tie2 and it is therefore1 ,i thought1 essential to the durability of these associations1 that they should have become so intense and inveterate as to be practically indissoluble1 before the habitual exercise of the power of analysis had commenced4 ,for ,i now saw1 or thought ,i saw1 what ,i had always before received with incredulity--that the habit of analysis has a tendency to wear away the feelings3 as indeed it has1 when no other mental habit is cultivated1 and the analysing spirit remains without its natural complements and correctives4 ,the very excellence of analysis 7,i argued7 is that it tends to weaken and undermine whatever is the result of prejudice2 that it enables us mentally to separate ideas which have only casually clung together3 and no associations whatever could ultimately resist this dissolving force1 were it not that we owe to analysis our clearest knowledge of the permanent sequences in nature2 the real connections between ,things1 not dependent on our will and feelings2 natural laws1 by virtue of which1 in many cases1 one thing is inseparable from another in fact2 which laws1 in proportion as they are clearly perceived and imaginatively realised1 cause our ideas of things which are always joined together in ,nature1 to cohere more and more closely in our thoughts4 ,analytic habits may thus even strengthen the associations between causes and effects1 means and ends1 but tend altogether to weaken those which are1 to speak familiarly1 a mere matter of feeling4 ,they are therefore 7,i thought7 favourable to prudence and clear-sightedness1 but a perpetual worm at the root both of the passions and of the virtues2 and1 above all1 fearfully undermine all desires1 and all pleasures1 which are the effects of association1 that is1 according to the theory ,i held1 all except the purely physical and organic2 of the entire insufficiency of which to make life desirable1 no one had a stronger conviction than ,i had4 ,these were the laws of human nature1 by which1 as it seemed to me1 ,i had been brought to my present state4 ,all those to whom ,i looked up1 were of opinion that the pleasure of sympathy with human beings1 and the feelings which made the good of others1 and especially of mankind on a large scale1 the object of existence1 were the greatest and surest sources of happiness4 ,of the truth of this ,i was convinced1 but to know that a feeling would make me happy if ,i had it1 did not give me the feeling4 ,my education1 ,i thought1 had failed to create these feelings in sufficient strength to resist the dissolving influence of analysis1 while the whole course of my intellectual cultivation had made precocious and premature analysis the inveterate habit of my mind4 ,i was thus1 as ,i said to myself1 left stranded at the commencement of my voyage1 with a well-equipped ship and a rudder1 but no sail2 without any real desire for the ends which ,i had been so carefully fitted out to work for3 no delight in virtue1 or the general good1 but also just as little in anything else4 ,the fountains of vanity and ambition seemed to have dried up within me1 as completely as those of benevolence4 ,i had had 7as ,i reflected7 some gratification of vanity at too early an age3 ,i had obtained some distinction1 and felt myself of some importance1 before the desire of distinction and of importance had grown into a passion3 and little as it was which ,i had attained1 yet having been attained too early1 like all pleasures enjoyed too soon1 it had made me blas and indifferent to the pursuit4 ,thus neither selfish nor unselfish pleasures were pleasures to me4 ,and there seemed no power in nature sufficient to begin the formation of my character anew1 and create in a mind now irretrievably analytic1 fresh associations of pleasure with any of the objects of human desire4 ,these were the thoughts which mingled with the dry heavy dejection of the melancholy winter of #ahbf-g4 ,during this time ,i was not incapable of my usual occupations4 ,i went on with them mechanically1 by the mere force of habit4 ,i had been so drilled in a certain sort of mental exercise1 that ,i could still carry it on when all the spirit had gone out of it4 ,i even composed and spoke several speeches at the debating society1 how1 or with what degree of success1 ,i know not4 ,of four years' continual speaking at that society1 this is the only year of which ,i remember next to nothing4 ,two lines of ,coleridge1 in whom alone of all writers ,i have found a true description of what ,i felt1 were often in my thoughts1 not at this time 7for ,i had never read them71 but in a later period of the same mental malady3 ,work without hope draws nectar in a sieve1 ,and hope without an object cannot live4 ,in all probability my case was by no means so peculiar as ,i fancied it1 and ,i doubt not that many others have passed through a similar state2 but the idiosyncrasies of my education had given to the general phenomenon a special character1 which made it seem the natural effect of causes that it was hardly possible for time to remove4 ,i frequently asked myself1 if ,i could1 or if ,i was bound to go on living1 when life must be passed in this manner4 ,i generally answered to myself1 that ,i did not think ,i could possibly bear it beyond a year4 ,when1 however1 not more than half that duration of time had elapsed1 a small ray of light broke in upon my gloom4 ,i was reading1 accidentally1 ,marmontel's ,memoires1 and came to the passage which relates his father's death1 the distressed position of the family1 and the sudden inspiration by which he1 then a mere boy1 felt and made them feel that he would be everything to them--would supply the place of all that they had lost4 ,a vivid conception of the scene and its feelings came over me1 and ,i was moved to tears4 ,from this moment my burden grew lighter4 ,the oppression of the thought that all feeling was dead within me1 was gone4 ,i was no longer hopeless3 ,i was not a stock or a stone4 ,i had still1 it seemed1 some of the material out of which all worth of character1 and all capacity for happiness1 are made4 ,relieved from my ever present sense of irremediable wretchedness1 ,i gradually found that the ordinary incidents of life could again give me some pleasure2 that ,i could again find enjoyment1 not intense1 but sufficient for cheerfulness1 in sunshine and sky1 in books1 in conversation1 in public affairs2 and that there was1 once more1 excitement1 though of a moderate kind1 in exerting myself for my opinions1 and for the public good4 ,thus the cloud gradually drew off1 and ,i again enjoyed life3 and though ,i had several relapses1 some of which lasted many months1 ,i never again was as miserable as ,i had been4 ,the experiences of this period had two very marked effects on my opinions and character4 ,in the first place1 they led me to adopt a theory of life1 very unlike that on which ,i had before acted1 and having much in common with what at that time ,i certainly had never heard of1 the anti-self-consciousness theory of ,carlyle4 ,i never1 indeed1 wavered in the conviction that happiness is the test of all rules of conduct1 and the end of life4 ,but ,i now thought that this end was only to be attained by not making it the direct end4 ,those only are happy 7,i thought7 who have their minds fixed on some object other than their own happiness2 on the happiness of others1 on the improvement of mankind1 even on some art or pursuit1 followed not as a means1 but as itself an ideal end4 ,aiming thus at something else1 they find happiness by the way4 ,the enjoyments of life 7such was now my theory7 are sufficient to make it a pleasant thing1 when they are taken en passant1 without being made a principal object4 ,once make them so1 and they are immediately felt to be insufficient4 ,they will not bear a scrutinising examination4 ,ask yourself whether you are happy1 and you cease to be so4 ,the only chance is to treat1 not happiness1 but some end external to it1 as the purpose of life4 ,let your self-consciousness1 your scrutiny1 your self-interrogation1 exhaust themselves on that2 and if otherwise fortunately circumstanced you will inhale happiness with the air you breathe1 without dwelling on it or thinking about it1 without either forestalling it in imagination1 or putting it to flight by fatal questioning4 ,this theory now became the basis of my philosophy of life4 ,and ,i still hold to it as the best theory for all those who have but a moderate degree of sensibility and of capacity for enjoyment1 that is1 for the great majority of mankind4 ,the other important change which my opinions at this3 time underwent1 was that ,i1 for the first time1 gave its proper place1 among the prime necessities of human well-being1 to the internal culture of the individual4 ,i ceased to attach almost exclusive importance to the ordering of outward circumstances1 and the training of the human being for speculation and for action4 ,i had now learnt by experience that the passive susceptibilities needed to be cultivated as well as the active capacities1 and required to be nourished and enriched as well as guided4 ,i did not1 for an instant1 lose sight of1 or undervalue1 that part of the truth which ,i had seen before2 ,i never turned recreant to intellectual culture1 or ceased to consider the power and practice of analysis as an essential condition both of individual and of social improvement4 ,but ,i thought that it had consequences which required to be corrected1 by joining other kinds of cultivation with it4 ,the maintenance of a due balance among the faculties1 now seemed to me of primary importance4 ,the cultivation of the feelings became one of the cardinal points in my ethical and philosophical creed4 ,and my thoughts and inclinations turned in an increasing degree towards whatever seemed capable of being instrumental to that object4 ,i now began to find meaning in the things which ,i had read or heard about the importance of poetry and art as instruments of human culture4 ,but it was some time longer before ,i began to know this by personal experience4 ,the only one of the imaginative arts in which ,i had from childhood taken great pleasure1 was music2 the best effect of which 7and in this it surpasses perhaps every other art7 consists in exciting enthusiasm2 in winding up to a high pitch those feelings of an elevated kind which are already in the character1 but to which this excitement gives a glow and a fervour1 which1 though transitory at its utmost height1 is precious for sustaining them at other times4 ,this effect of music ,i had often experienced2 but like all my pleasurable susceptibilities it was suspended during the gloomy period4 ,i had sought relief again and again from this quarter1 but found none4 ,after the tide had turned1 and ,i was in process of recovery1 ,i had been helped forward by music1 but in a much less elevated manner4 ,i at this time first became acquainted with ,weber's ,oberon1 and the extreme pleasure which ,i drew from its delicious melodies did me good1 by showing me a source of pleasure to which ,i was as susceptible as ever4 ,the good1 however1 was much impaired by the thought1 that the pleasure of music 7as is quite true of such pleasure as this was1 that of mere tune7 fades with familiarity1 and requires either to be revived by intermittence1 or fed by continual novelty4 ,and it is very characteristic both of my then state1 and of the general tone of my mind at this period of my life1 that ,i was seriously tormented by the thought of the exhaustibility of musical combinations4 ,the octave consists only of five tones and two semi-tones1 which can be put together in only a limited number of ways1 of which but a small proportion are beautiful3 most of these1 it seemed to me1 must have been already discovered1 and there could not be room for a long succession of ,mozarts and ,webers1 to strike out1 as these had done1 entirely new and surpassingly rich veins of musical beauty4 ,this source of anxiety may1 perhaps1 be thought to resemble that of the philosophers of ,laputa1 who feared lest the sun should be burnt out4 ,it was1 however1 connected with the best feature in my character1 and the only good point to be found in my very unromantic and in no way honourable distress4 ,for though my dejection1 honestly looked at1 could not be called other than egotistical1 produced by the ruin1 as ,i thought1 of my fabric of happiness1 yet the destiny of mankind in general was ever in my thoughts1 and could not be separated from my own4 ,i felt that the flaw in my life1 must be a flaw in life itself2 that the question was1 whether1 if the reformers of society and government could succeed in their objects1 and every person in the community were free and in a state of physical comfort1 the pleasures of life1 being no longer kept up by struggle and privation1 would cease to be pleasures4 ,and ,i felt that unless ,i could see my way to some better hope than this for human happiness in general my dejection must continue2 but that if ,i could see such an outlet1 ,i should then look on the world with pleasure2 content as far as ,i was myself concerned1 with any fair share of the general lot4 ,this state of my thoughts and feelings made the fact of my reading ,wordsworth for the first time 7in the autumn of #ahbh71 an important event in my life4 ,i took up the collection of his poems from curiosity1 with no expectation of mental relief from it1 though ,i had before resorted to poetry with that hope4 ,in the worst period of my depression1 ,i had read through the whole of ,byron 7then new to me71 to try whether a poet1 whose peculiar department was supposed to be that of the intenser feelings1 could rouse any feeling in me4 ,as might be expected1 ,i got no good from this reading1 but the reverse4 ,the poet's state of mind was too like my own4 ,his was the lament of a man who had worn out all pleasures1 and who seemed to think that life1 to all who possess the good things of it1 must necessarily be the vapid1 uninteresting thing which ,i found it4 ,his ,harold and ,manfred had the same burden on them which ,i had2 and ,i was not in a frame of mind to desire any comfort from the vehement sensual passion of his ,giaours1 or the sullenness of his ,laras4 ,but while ,byron was exactly what did not suit my condition1 ,wordsworth was exactly what did4 ,i had looked into the ,excursion two or three years before1 and found little in it2 and ,i should probably have found as little1 had ,i read it at this time4 ,but the miscellaneous poems1 in the two-volume edition of #ahae 7to which little of value was added in the latter part of the author's life71 proved to be the precise thing for my mental wants at that particular juncture4 ,in the first place1 these poems addressed themselves powerfully to one of the strongest of my pleasurable susceptibilities1 the love of rural objects and natural scenery2 to which ,i had been indebted not only for much of the pleasure of my life1 but quite recently for relief from one of my longest relapses into depression4 ,in this power of rural beauty over me1 there was a foundation laid for taking pleasure in ,wordsworth's poetry2 the more so1 as his scenery lies mostly among mountains1 which1 owing to my early ,pyrenean excursion1 were my ideal of natural beauty4 ,but ,wordsworth would never have had any great effect on me1 if he had merely placed before me beautiful pictures of natural scenery4 ,scott does this still better than ,wordsworth1 and a very second-rate landscape does it more effectually than any poet4 ,what made ,wordsworth's poems a medicine for my state of mind1 was that they expressed1 not mere outward beauty1 but states of feeling1 and of thought coloured by feeling1 under the excitement of beauty4 ,they seemed to be the very culture of the feelings which ,i was in quest of4 ,in them ,i seemed to draw from a source of inward joy1 of sympathetic and imaginative pleasures1 which could be shared in by all human beings2 which had no connection with struggle or imperfection1 but would be made richer by every improvement in the physical or social condition of mankind4 ,from them ,i seemed to learn what would be the perennial sources of happiness1 when all the greater evils of life shall have been removed4 ,and ,i felt myself at once better and happier as ,i came under their influence4 ,there have certainly been1 even in our own age1 greater poets than ,wordsworth2 but poetry of deeper and loftier feeling could not have done for me at that time what his did4 ,i needed to be made to feel that there was real1 permanent happiness in tranquil contemplation4 ,wordsworth taught me this1 not only without turning away from1 but with a greatly increased interest in the common feelings and common destiny of human beings4 ,and the delight which these poems gave me1 proved that with culture of this sort1 there was nothing to dread from the most confirmed habit of analysis4 ,at the conclusion of the ,poems came the famous ,ode1 falsely called ,platonic1 ,intimations of ,immortality3 in which1 along with more than his usual sweetness of melody and rhythm1 and along with the two passages of grand imagery but bad philosophy so often quoted1 ,i found that he too had had similar experience to mine2 that he also had felt that the first freshness of youthful enjoyment of life was not lasting2 but that he had sought for compensation1 and found it1 in the way in which he was now teaching me to find it4 ,the result was that ,i gradually1 but completely1 emerged from my habitual depression1 and was never again subject to it4 ,i long continued to value ,wordsworth less according to his intrinsic merits1 than by the measure of what he had done for me4 ,compared with the greatest poets1 he may be said to be the poet of unpoetical natures1 possessed of quiet and contemplative tastes4 ,but unpoetical natures are precisely those which require poetic cultivation4 ,this cultivation ,wordsworth is much more fitted to give1 than poets who are intrinsically far more poets than he4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #c3 ,from ,chapter ,v of the ,autobiography1 #ahgd4 ,,old ,,china#d ,,charles ,,lamb ,i have an almost feminine partiality for old china4 ,when ,i go to see any great house1 ,i inquire for the china-closet1 and next for the picture-gallery4 ,i cannot defend the order of preference1 but by saying that we have all some taste or other1 of too ancient a date to admit of our remembering distinctly that it was an acquired one4 ,i can call to mind the first play1 and the first exhibition1 that ,i was taken to2 but ,i am not conscious of a time when china jars and saucers were introduced into my imagination4 ,i had no repugnance then--why should ,i now have8--to those little1 lawless1 azure-tinctured grotesques1 that1 under the notion of men and women1 float about1 uncircumscribed by any element in that world before perspective--a china tea-cup4 ,i like to see my old friends1 whom distance cannot diminish1 figuring up in the air 7so they appear to our optics71 yet on terra firma still--for so we must in courtesy interpret that speck of deeper blue1 which the decorous artist1 to prevent absurdity1 had made to spring up beneath their sandals4 ,i love the men with women's faces1 and women1 if possible1 with still more womanish expressions4 ,here is a young and courtly ,mandarin1 handing tea to a lady from a salver--two miles off4 ,see how distance seems to set off respect6 ,and here the same lady1 or another--for likeness is identity on tea-cups--is stepping into a little fairy boat1 moored on the hither side of this calm garden river1 with a dainty mincing foot1 which in a right angle of incidence 7as angles go in our world7 must infallibly land her in the midst of a flowery mead--a furlong off on the other side of the same strange stream6 ,further on--if far or near can be predicated of their world--see horses1 trees1 pagodas1 dancing the hays4#e ,here--a cow and rabbit couchant1 and coextensive--so objects show1 seen through the lucid atmosphere of fine ,cathay4 ,i was pointing out to my cousin last evening1 over our ,hyson 7which we are old-fashioned enough to drink unmixed still of an afternoon71 some of these speciosa miracula#f upon a set of extraordinary old blue china 7a recent purchase7 which we were now for the first time using2 and could not help remarking1 how favourable circumstances had been to us of late years1 that we could afford to please the eye sometimes with trifles of this sort--when a passing sentiment seemed to overshade the brows of my companion4 ,i am quick at detecting these summer clouds in ,bridget4 ,i wish the good old times would come again1 she said1 when we were not quite so rich4 ,i do not mean that ,i want to be poor2 but there was a middle state1--so she was pleased to ramble on1--in which ,i am sure we were a great deal happier4 ,a purchase is but a purchase1 now that you have money enough and to spare4 ,formerly it used to be a triumph4 ,when we coveted a cheap luxury 7and1 oh6 how much ado ,i had to get you to consent in those times67 we were used to have a debate two or three days before1 and to weigh the for and against1 and think what we might spare it out of1 and what saving we could hit upon1 that should be an equivalent4 ,a thing was worth buying then1 when we felt the money that we paid for it4 ,do you remember the brown suit1 which you made to hang upon you1 till your friends cried shame upon you1 it grew so threadbare--and all because of that folio ,beaumont and ,fletcher1 which you dragged home late at night from ,barker's in ,covent-garden8 ,do you remember how we eyed it for weeks before we could make up our minds to the purchase1 and had not come to a determination till it was near ten o'clock of the ,saturday night1 when you set off from ,islington1 fearing you should be too late--and when the old bookseller with some grumbling opened his shop1 and by the twinkling taper 7for he was setting bed-ward7 lighted out the relic from his dusty treasures--and when you lugged it home1 wishing it were twice as cumbersome--and when you presented it to me--and when we were exploring the perfectness of it 7collating you called it7--and while ,i was repairing some of the loose leaves with paste1 which your impatience would not suffer to be left till daybreak--was there no pleasure in being a poor man8 or can those neat black clothes which you wear now1 and are so careful to keep brushed1 since we have become rich and finical1 give you half the honest vanity with which you flaunted it about in that overworn suit--your old corbeau--for four or five weeks longer than you should have done1 to pacify your conscience for the mighty sum of fifteen--or sixteen shillings was it8--a great affair we thought it then--which you had lavished on the old folio4 ,now you can afford to buy any book that pleases you1 but ,i do not see that you ever bring me home any nice old purchases now4 ,when you came home with twenty apologies for laying out a less number of shillings upon that print after ,lionardo which we christened the ',lady ,blanch'2 when you looked at the purchase1 and thought of the money--and thought of the money1 and looked again at the picture--was there no pleasure in being a poor man8 ,now1 you have nothing to do but to walk into ,colnaghi's1 and buy a wilderness of ,lionardos4 ,yet do you8 ,then1 do you remember our pleasant walks to ,enfield1 and ,potter's bar1 and ,waltham1 when we had a holiday--holidays and all other fun are gone now we are rich--and the little handbasket in which ,i used to deposit our day's fare of savory cold lamb and salad--and how you would pry about at noon-tide for some decent house1 where we might go in and produce our store--only paying for the ale that you must call for--and speculate upon the looks of the landlady1 and whether she was likely to allow us a tablecloth--and wish for such another honest hostess as ,izaak ,walton has described many a one on the pleasant banks of the ,lea1 when he went a fishing--and sometimes they would prove obliging enough1 and sometimes they would look grudgingly upon us--but we had cheerful looks still for one another1 and would eat our plain food savorily1 scarcely grudging ,piscator#g his ,trout ,hall8 ,now1 when we go out a day's pleasuring1 which is seldom1 moreover1 we ride part of the way1 and go into a fine inn1 and order the best of dinners1 never debating the expense1 which1 after all1 never has half the relish of those chance country snaps1 when we were at the mercy of uncertain usage1 and a precarious welcome4 ,you are too proud to see a play anywhere now but in the pit4 ,do you remember where it was we used to sit1 when we saw the ,battle of ,hexham1 and the ,surrender of ,calais1 and ,bannister and ,mrs4 ,bland in the ,children in the ,wood--when we squeezed out our shilling apiece to sit three or four times in a season in the one-shilling gallery--where you felt all the time that you ought not to have brought me--and more strongly ,i felt obligation to you for having brought me--and the pleasure was the better for a little shame--and when the curtain drew up1 what cared we for our place in the house1 or what mattered it where we were sitting1 when our thoughts were with ,rosalind in ,arden1 or with ,viola at the ,court of ,illyria8 ,you used to say that the gallery was the best place of all for enjoying a play socially2 that the relish of such exhibitions must be in proportion to the infrequency of going2 that the company we met there1 not being in general readers of plays1 were obliged to attend the more1 and did attend1 to what was going on on the stage1 because a word lost would have been a chasm which it was impossible for them to fill up4 ,with such reflections we consoled our pride then1 and ,i appeal to you whether1 as a woman1 ,i met generally with less attention and accommodation than ,i have done since in more expensive situations in the house8 ,the getting in1 indeed1 and the crowding up those inconvenient staircases1 was bad enough1--but there was still a law of civility to woman recognised to quite as great an extent as we ever found in the other passages--and how a little difficulty overcome heightened the snug seat1 and the play1 afterward6 ,now we can only pay our money1 and walk in4 ,you cannot see1 you say1 in the galleries now4 ,i am sure we saw1 and heard too1 well enough then--but sight1 and all1 ,i think1 is gone with our poverty4 ,there was pleasure in eating strawberries1 before they became quite common--in the first dish of peas1 while they were yet dear--to have them for a nice supper1 a treat4 ,what treat can we have now8 ,if we were to treat ourselves now--that is1 to have dainties a little above our means1 it would be selfish and wicked4 ,it is the very little more that we allow ourselves beyond what the actual poor can get at1 that makes what ,i call a treat--when two people living together1 as we have done1 now and then indulge themselves in a cheap luxury1 which both like2 while each apologises1 and is willing to take both halves of the blame to his single share4 ,i see no harm in people making much of themselves in that sense of the word4 ,it may give them a hint how to make much of others4 ,but now--what ,i mean by the word--we never do make much of ourselves4 ,none but the poor can do it4 ,i do not mean the veriest poor of all1 but persons as we were1 just above poverty4 ,i know what you were going to say1 that it is mighty pleasant at the end of the year to make all meet1--and much ado we used to have every ,thirty-first ,night of ,december to account for our exceedings--many a long face did you make over your puzzled accounts1 and in contriving to make it out how we had spent so much--or that we had not spent so much--or that it was impossible we should spend so much next year--and still we found our slender capital decreasing--but then1 betwixt ways1 and projects1 and compromises of one sort or another and talk of curtailing this charge1 and doing without that for the future--and the hope that youth brings1 and laughing spirits 7in which you were never poor till now71 we pocketed up our loss1 and in conclusion1 with 'lusty brimmers' 7as you used to quote it out of hearty1 cheerful ,mr4 ,cotton#h1 as you called him71 we used to welcome in the 'coming guest4' ,now we have no reckoning at all at the end of the old year2 no flattering promises about the new year doing better for us4 ,bridget is so sparing of her speech1 on most occasions1 that when she gets into a rhetorical vein1 ,i am careful how ,i interrupt it4 ,i could not help1 however1 smiling at the phantom of wealth which her dear imagination had conjured up out of a clear income of poor ---- hundred pounds a year4 ,it is true we were happier when we were poorer1 but we were also younger1 my cousin4 ,i am afraid we must put up with the excess1 for if we were to shake the superflux into the sea1 we should not much mend ourselves4 ,that we had much to struggle with1 as we grew up together1 we have reason to be most thankful4 ,it strengthened and knit our compact closer4 ,we could never have been what we have been to each other1 if we had always had the sufficiency which you now complain of4 ,the resisting power1 those natural dilations of the youthful spirit1 which circumstances can not straiten--with us are long since passed away4 ,competence to age is supplementary youth1 a sorry supplement indeed1 but ,i fear the best that is to be had4 ,we must ride where we formerly walked3 live better and lie softer--and shall be wise to do so--than we had means to do in those good old days you speak of4 ,yet could those days return1 could you and ,i once more walk our thirty miles a day1 could ,bannister and ,mrs4 ,bland again be young1 and you and ,i be young to see them1 could the good old one shilling gallery days return--they are dreams1 my cousin1 now1 but could you and ,i at this moment1 instead of this quiet argument1 by our well-carpeted fireside1 sitting on this luxurious sofa--be once more struggling up those inconvenient staircases1 pushed about and squeezed1 and elbowed by the poorest rabble of poor gallery scramblers--could ,i once more hear those anxious shrieks of yours1 and the delicious ,thank ,god1 we are safe1 which always followed1 when the topmost stair1 conquered1 let in the first light of the whole cheerful theatre down beneath us--,i know not the fathom line that ever touched a descent so deep as ,i would be willing to bury more wealth in than ,croesus had1 or the great ,jew ,r---- is supposed to have1 to purchase it4 ,and now do just look at that merry little ,chinese waiter holding an umbrella1 big enough for a bed-tester1 over the head of that pretty insipid half-,madonna-ish chit of a lady in that very blue summer-house4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #d3 ,from ,last ,essays of ,elia1 #ahcc4 ,footnote #e3 ,the hays3 an old ,english dance4 ,footnote #f3 ,speciosa miracula3 beautiful marvels4 ,footnote #g3 ,piscator3 ,the ,angler--the author's spokesman in ,walton's ,the ,complete ,angler4 ,footnote #h3 ,charles ,cotton1 a humorist of the seventeenth century4 ,,what ,,is ,,education8#i ,,thomas ,,henry ,,huxley ,what is education8 ,above all things1 what is our ideal of a thoroughly liberal education8--of that education which1 if we could begin life again1 we would give ourselves--of that education which1 if we could mould the fates to our own will1 we would give our children8 ,well1 ,i know not what may be your conceptions upon this matter1 but ,i will tell you mine1 and ,i hope ,i shall find that our views are not very discrepant4 ,suppose it were perfectly certain that the life and fortune of every one of us would1 one day or other1 depend upon his winning or losing a game of chess4 ,don't you think that we should all consider it to be a primary duty to learn at least the names and the moves of the pieces2 to have a notion of a gambit1 and a keen eye for all the means of giving and getting out of check8 ,do you not think that we should look with a disapprobation amounting to scorn1 upon the father who allowed his son1 or the state which allowed its members1 to grow up without knowing a pawn from a knight8 ,yet it is a very plain and elementary truth1 that the life1 the fortune1 and the happiness of every one of us1 and1 more or less1 of those who are connected with us1 do depend upon our knowing something of the rules of a game infinitely more difficult and complicated than chess4 ,it is a game which has been played for untold ages1 every man and woman of us being one of the two players in a game of his or her own4 ,the chess-board is the world1 the pieces are the phenomena of the universe1 the rules of the game are what we call the laws of ,nature4 ,the player on the other side is hidden from us4 ,we know that his play is always fair1 just and patient4 ,but also we know1 to our cost1 that he never overlooks a mistake1 or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance4 ,to the man who plays well1 the highest stakes are paid1 with that sort of overflowing generosity with which the strong shows delight in strength4 ,and one who plays ill is checkmated--without haste1 but without remorse4 ,my metaphor will remind some of you of the famous picture in which ,retzsch has depicted ,satan playing at chess with man for his soul4 ,substitute for the mocking fiend in that picture a calm1 strong angel who is playing for love1 as we say1 and would rather lose than win--and ,i should accept it as an image of human life4 ,well1 what ,i mean by ,education is learning the rules of this mighty game4 ,in other words1 education is the instruction of the intellect in the laws of ,nature1 under which name ,i include not merely things and their forces1 but men and their ways2 and the fashioning of the affections and of the will into an earnest and loving desire to move in harmony with those laws4 ,for me1 education means neither more nor less than this4 ,anything which professes to call itself education must be tried by this standard1 and if it fails to stand the test1 ,i will not call it education1 whatever may be the force of authority1 or of numbers1 upon the other side4 ,it is important to remember that1 in strictness1 there is no such thing as an uneducated man4 ,take an extreme case4 ,suppose that an adult man1 in the full vigour of his faculties1 could be suddenly placed in the world1 as ,adam is said to have been1 and then left to do as he best might4 ,how long would he be left uneducated8 ,not five minutes4 ,nature would begin to teach him1 through the eye1 the ear1 the touch1 the properties of objects4 ,pain and pleasure would be at his elbow telling him to do this and avoid that2 and by slow degrees the man would receive an education which1 if narrow1 would be thorough1 real1 and adequate to his circumstances1 though there would be no extras and very few accomplishments4 ,and if to this solitary man entered a second ,adam1 or1 better still1 an ,eve1 a new and greater world1 that of social and moral phenomena1 would be revealed4 ,joys and woes1 compared with which all others might seem but faint shadows1 would spring from the new relations4 ,happiness and sorrow would take the place of the coarser monitors1 pleasure and pain2 but conduct would still be shaped by the observation of the natural consequences of actions2 or1 in other words1 by the laws of the nature of man4 ,to every one of us the world was once as fresh and new as to ,adam4 ,and then1 long before we were susceptible of any other modes of instruction1 ,nature took us in hand1 and every minute of waking life brought its educational influence1 shaping our actions into rough accordance with ,nature's laws1 so that we might not be ended untimely by too gross disobedience4 ,nor should ,i speak of this process of education as past for any one1 be he as old as he may4 ,for every man the world is as fresh as it was at the first day1 and as full of untold novelties for him who has the eyes to see them4 ,and ,nature is still continuing her patient education of us in that great university1 the universe1 of which we are all members--,nature having no ,test-,acts4 ,those who take honours in ,nature's university1 who learn the laws which govern men and things and obey them1 are the really great and successful men in this world4 ,the great mass of mankind are the ,poll1#aj who pick up just enough to get through without much discredit4 ,those who won't learn at all are plucked2 and then you can't come up again4 ,nature's pluck means extermination4 ,thus the question of compulsory education is settled so far as ,nature is concerned4 ,her bill on that question was framed and passed long ago4 ,but1 like all compulsory legislation1 that of ,nature is harsh and wasteful in its operation4 ,ignorance is visited as sharply as wilful disobedience--incapacity meets with the same punishment as crime4 ,nature's discipline is not even a word and a blow1 and the blow first2 but the blow without the word4 ,it is left to you to find out why your ears are boxed4 ,the object of what we commonly call education--that education in which man intervenes and which ,i shall distinguish as artificial education--is to make good these defects in ,nature's methods2 to prepare the child to receive ,nature's education1 neither incapably nor ignorantly1 nor with wilful disobedience2 and to understand the preliminary symptoms of her pleasure1 without waiting for the box on the ear4 ,in short1 all artificial education ought to be an anticipation of natural education4 ,and a liberal education is an artificial education which has not only prepared a man to escape the great evils of disobedience to natural laws1 but has trained him to appreciate and to seize upon the rewards1 which ,nature scatters with as free a hand as her penalties4 ,that man1 ,i think1 has had a liberal education who has been so trained in youth that his body is the ready servant of his will1 and does with ease and pleasure all the work that1 as a mechanism1 it is capable of2 whose intellect is a clear1 cold1 logic engine1 with all its parts of equal strength1 and in smooth working order2 ready1 like a steam engine1 to be turned to any kind of work1 and spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of the mind2 whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the great and fundamental truths of ,nature and of the laws of her operations2 one who1 no stunted ascetic1 is full of life and fire1 but whose passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will1 the servant of a tender conscience2 who has learned to love all beauty1 whether of ,nature or of art1 to hate all vileness1 and to respect others as himself4 ,such an one and no other1 ,i conceive1 has had a liberal education2 for he is1 as completely as a man can be1 in harmony with ,nature4 ,he will make the best of her1 and she of him4 ,they will get on together rarely2 she as his ever beneficent mother2 he as her mouthpiece1 her conscious self1 her minister and interpreter4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #i3 ,from ,a ,liberal ,education2 and ,where to ,find ,it1 #ahfh4 ,footnote #aj3 ,poll 7a slang term used at ,cambridge ,university73 those who take a degree without honours4 ,,knowledge ,,viewed ,,in ,,relation ,,to ,,learning#aa ,,john ,,henry ,,newman ,it were well if the ,english1 like the ,greek language1 possessed some definite word to express1 simply and generally1 intellectual proficiency or perfection1 such as health1 as used with reference to the animal frame1 and virtue1 with reference to our moral nature4 ,i am not able to find such a term2--talent1 ability1 genius1 belong distinctly to the raw material1 which is the subject-matter1 not to that excellence which is the result of exercise and training4 ,when we turn1 indeed1 to the particular kinds of intellectual perfection1 words are forthcoming for our purpose1 as1 for instance1 judgment1 taste1 and skill2 yet even these belong1 for the most part1 to powers or habits bearing upon practice or upon art1 and not to any perfect condition of the intellect1 considered in itself4 ,wisdom1 again1 is certainly a more comprehensive word than any other1 but it has a direct relation to conduct1 and to human life4 ,knowledge1 indeed1 and science express purely intellectual ideas but still not a state or quality of the intellect2 for knowledge1 in its ordinary sense1 is but one of its circumstances1 denoting a possession or a habit2 and science has been appropriated to the subject-matter of the intellect1 instead of belonging in ,english1 as it ought to do1 to the intellect itself4 ,the consequence is that1 on an occasion like this1 many words are necessary1 in order1 first1 to bring out and convey what surely is no difficult idea in itself1--that of the cultivation of the intellect as an end2 next1 in order to recommend what surely is no unreasonable object2 and lastly1 to describe and make the mind realise the particular perfection in which that object consists4 ,every one knows practically what are the constituents of health or of virtue2 and every one recognises health and virtue as ends to be pursued2 it is otherwise with intellectual excellence1 and this must be my excuse1 if ,i seem to anyone to be bestowing a good deal of labour on a preliminary matter4 ,in default of a recognised term1 ,i have called the perfection or virtue of the intellect by the name of philosophy1 philosophical knowledge1 enlargement of mind1 or illumination1 terms which are not uncommonly given to it by writers of this day3 but1 whatever name we bestow on it1 it is1 ,i believe1 as a matter of history1 the business of a university to make this intellectual culture its direct scope1 or to employ itself in the education of the intellect1--just as the work of a hospital lies in healing the sick or wounded1 of a riding or fencing school1 or of a gymnasium1 in exercising the limbs1 of an almshouse1 in aiding and solacing the old1 of an orphanage1 in protecting innocence1 of a penitentiary1 in restoring the guilty4 ,i say1 a university1 taken in its bare idea1 and before we view it as an instrument of the church1 has this object and this mission2 it contemplates neither moral impression nor mechanical production2 it professes to exercise the mind neither in art nor in duty2 its function is intellectual culture2 here it may leave its scholars1 and it has done its work when it has done as much as this4 ,it educates the intellect to reason well in all matters1 to reach out towards truth1 and to grasp it4 ,this1 ,i said in my foregoing discourse1 was the object of a university1 viewed in itself1 and apart from the ,catholic ,church1 or from the state1 or from any other power which may use it2 and ,i illustrated this in various ways4 ,i said that the intellect must have an excellence of its own1 for there was nothing which had not its specific good2 that the word educate would not be used of intellectual culture1 as it is used1 had not the intellect had an end of its own2 that1 had it not such an end1 there would be no meaning in calling certain intellectual exercises liberal1 in contrast with useful1 as is commonly done2 that the very notion of a philosophical temper implied it1 for it threw us back upon research and system as ends in themselves1 distinct from effects and works of any kind2 that a philosophical scheme of knowledge1 or system of sciences1 could not1 from the nature of the case1 issue in any one definite art or pursuit1 as its end2 and that1 on the other hand1 the discovery and contemplation of truth1 to which research and systematising led1 were surely sufficient ends1 though nothing beyond them were added1 and that they had ever been accounted sufficient by mankind4 ,here then ,i take up the subject2 and having determined that the cultivation of the intellect is an end distinct and sufficient in itself1 and that1 so far as words go1 it is an enlargement or illumination4 ,i proceed to inquire what this mental breadth1 or power1 or light1 or philosophy consists in4 ,a hospital heals a broken limb or cures a fever3 what does an institution effect1 which professes the health1 not of the body1 not of the soul1 but of the intellect8 ,what is this good1 which in former times1 as well as our own1 has been found worth the notice1 the appropriation of the ,catholic ,church8 ,i have then to investigate1 in the discourses which follow1 those qualities and characteristics of the intellect in which its cultivation issues or rather consists2 and1 with a view of assisting myself in this undertaking1 ,i shall recur to certain questions which have already been touched upon4 ,these questions are three3 viz4 the relation of intellectual culture1 first1 to mere knowledge2 secondly1 to professional knowledge2 and thirdly1 to religious knowledge4 ,in other words1 are acquirements and attainments the scope of a university education8 or expertness in particular arts and pursuits8 or moral and religious proficiency8 or something besides these three8 ,these questions ,i shall examine in succession1 with the purpose ,i have mentioned2 and ,i hope to be excused1 if1 in this anxious undertaking1 ,i am led to repeat what1 either in these discourses or elsewhere1 ,i have already put upon paper4 ,and first1 of mere knowledge1 or learning1 and its connection with intellectual illumination or philosophy4 ,i suppose the prima-facie#ab view which the public at large would take of a university1 considering it as a place of education1 is nothing more or less than a place for acquiring a great deal of knowledge on a great many subjects4 ,memory is one of the first developed of the mental faculties2 a boy's business when he goes to school is to learn1 that is1 to store up things in his memory4 ,for some years his intellect is little more than an instrument for taking in facts1 or a receptacle for storing them2 he welcomes them as fast as they come to him2 he lives on what is without2 he has his eyes ever about him2 he has a lively susceptibility of impressions2 he imbibes information of every kind2 and little does he make his own in a true sense of the word1 living rather upon his neighbours all around him4 ,he has opinions1 religious1 political and literary1 and1 for a boy1 is very positive in them and sure about them2 but he gets them from his schoolfellows1 or his masters1 or his parents1 as the case may be4 ,such as he is in his other relations1 such also is he in his school exercises2 his mind is observant1 sharp1 ready1 retentive2 he is almost passive in the acquisition of knowledge4 ,i say this in no disparagement of the idea of a clever boy4 ,geography1 chronology1 history1 language1 natural history1 he heaps up the matter of these studies as treasures for a future day4 ,it is the seven years of plenty with him3 he gathers in by handfuls1 like the ,egyptians1 without counting2 and though1 as time goes on1 there is exercise for his argumentative powers in the elements of mathematics1 and for his taste in the poets and orators1 still1 while at school1 or at least1 till quite the last years of his time1 he acquires1 and little more2 and when he is leaving for the university1 he is mainly the creature of foreign influences and circumstances1 and made up of accidents1 homogeneous or not1 as the case may be4 ,moreover1 the moral habits1 which are a boy's praise1 encourage and assist this result2 that is1 diligence1 assiduity1 regularity1 despatch1 persevering application2 for these are the direct conditions of acquisition1 and naturally lead to it4 ,acquirements1 again1 are emphatically producible1 and at a moment2 they are a something to show1 both for master and scholar2 an audience1 even though ignorant themselves of the subjects of an examination1 can comprehend when questions are answered and when they are not4 ,here again is a reason why mental culture is in the minds of men identified with the acquisition of knowledge4 ,the same notion possesses the public mind1 when it passes on from the thought of a school to that of a university3 and with the best of reasons so far as this1 that there is no true culture without acquirements1 and that philosophy presupposes knowledge4 ,it requires a great deal of reading1 or a wide range of information1 to warrant us in putting forth our opinions on any serious subject2 and without such learning the most original mind may be able indeed to dazzle1 to amuse1 to refute1 to perplex1 but not to come to any useful result or any trustworthy conclusion4 ,there are indeed persons who profess a different view of the matter1 and even act upon it4 ,every now and then you will find a person of vigorous or fertile mind1 who relies upon his own resources1 despises all former authors1 and gives the world1 with the utmost fearlessness1 his views upon religion1 or history1 or any other popular subject4 ,and his works may sell for a while2 he may get a name in his day2 but this will be all4 ,his readers are sure to find on the long run that his doctrines are mere theories1 and not the expression of facts1 that they are chaff instead of bread1 and then his popularity drops as suddenly as it rose4 ,knowledge then is the indispensable condition of expansion of mind1 and the instrument of attaining to it2 this cannot be denied1 it is ever to be insisted on2 ,i begin with it as a first principle2 however1 the very truth of it carries men too far1 and confirms to them the notion that it is the whole of the matter4 ,a narrow mind is thought to be that which contains little knowledge2 and an enlarged mind1 that which holds a great deal2 and what seems to put the matter beyond dispute is1 the fact of the great number of studies which are pursued in a university1 by its very profession4 ,lectures are given on every kind of subject2 examinations are held2 prizes awarded4 ,there are moral1 metaphysical1 physical professors2 professors of languages1 of history1 of mathematics1 of experimental science4 ,lists of questions are published1 wonderful for their range and depth1 variety and difficulty2 treatises are written1 which carry upon their very face the evidence of extensive reading or multifarious information2 what then is wanting for mental culture to a person of large reading and scientific attainments8 what is grasp of mind but acquirement8 where shall philosophical repose be found1 but in the consciousness and enjoyment of large intellectual possessions8 ,and yet this notion is1 ,i conceive1 a mistake1 and my present business is to show that it is one1 and that the end of a liberal education is not mere knowledge1 or knowledge considered in its matter2 and ,i shall best attain my object1 by actually setting down some cases1 which will be generally granted to be instances of the process of enlightenment or enlargement of mind1 and others which are not1 and thus1 by the comparison1 you will be able to judge for yourselves1 gentlemen1 whether knowledge1 that is1 acquirement1 is after all the real principle of the enlargement or whether that principle is not rather something beyond it4 ,for instance1 let a person1 whose experience has hitherto been confined to the more calm and unpretending scenery of these islands1 whether here or in ,england1 go for the first time into parts where physical nature puts on her wilder and more awful forms1 whether at home or abroad1 as into mountainous districts2 or let one1 who has ever lived in a quiet village1 go for the first time to a great metropolis1--then ,i suppose he will have a sensation which perhaps he never had before4 ,he has a feeling not in addition or increase of former feelings1 but of something different in its nature4 ,he will perhaps be borne forward1 and find for a time that he has lost his bearings4 ,he has made a certain progress1 and he has a consciousness of mental enlargement2 he does not stand where he did1 he has a new centre1 and a range of thoughts to which he was before a stranger4 ,again1 the view of the heavens which the telescope opens upon us1 if allowed to fill and possess the mind1 may almost whirl it round and make it dizzy4 ,it brings in a flood of ideas1 and is rightly called an intellectual enlargement1 whatever is meant by the term4 ,and so again1 the sight of beasts of prey and other foreign animals1 their strangeness1 the originality 7if ,i may use the term7 of their forms and gestures and habits1 and their variety and independence of each other1 throw us out of ourselves into another creation1 and as if under another ,creator1 if ,i may so express the temptation which may come on the mind4 ,we seem to have new faculties1 or a new exercise for our faculties1 by this addition to our knowledge2 like a prisoner1 who1 having been accustomed to wear manacles or fetters1 suddenly finds his arms and legs free4 ,hence physical science generally1 in all its departments1 as bringing before us the exuberant riches and resources1 yet the orderly course1 of the universe1 elevates and excites the student1 and at first1 ,i may say1 almost takes away his breath1 while in time it exercises a tranquillising influence upon him4 ,again the study of history is said to enlarge and enlighten the mind1 and why8 because1 as ,i conceive1 it gives it a power of judging of passing events and of all events1 and a conscious superiority over them1 which before it did not possess4 ,and in like manner1 what is called seeing the world1 entering into active life1 going into society1 travelling1 gaining acquaintance with the various classes of the community1 coming into contact with the principles and modes of thought of various parties1 interests1 and races1 their views1 aims1 habits and manners1 their religious creeds and forms of worship1--gaining experience how various yet how alike men are1 how low-minded1 how bad1 how opposed1 yet how confident in their opinions2 all this exerts a perceptible influence upon the mind1 which it is impossible to mistake1 be it good or be it bad1 and is popularly called its enlargement4 ,and then again1 the first time the mind comes across the arguments and speculations of unbelievers1 and feels what a novel light they cast upon what he has hitherto accounted sacred2 and still more1 if it gives in to them and embraces them1 and throws off as so much prejudice what it has hitherto held1 and1 as if waking from a dream1 begins to realise to its imagination that there is now no such thing as law and the transgression of law1 that sin is a phantom1 and punishment a bugbear1 that it is free to sin1 free to enjoy the world and the flesh2 and still further1 when it does enjoy them1 and reflects that it may think and hold just what it will1 that the world is all before it where to choose1 and what system to build up as its own private persuasion2 when this torrent of wilful thoughts rushes over and inundates it1 who will deny that the fruit of the tree of knowledge1 or what the mind takes for knowledge1 has made it one of the gods1 with a sense of expansion and elevation1--an intoxication in reality1 still1 so far as the subjective state of the mind goes1 an illumination8 ,hence the fanaticism of individuals or nations1 who suddenly cast off their ,maker4 ,their eyes are opened2 and1 like the judgment-stricken king in the tragedy1 they see two suns1 and a magic universe1 out of which they look back upon their former state of faith and innocence with a sort of contempt and indignation1 as if they were then but fools1 and the dupes of imposture4 ,on the other hand1 religion has its own enlargement1 and an enlargement1 not of tumult1 but of peace4 ,it is often remarked of uneducated persons1 who have hitherto thought little of the unseen world1 that1 on their turning to ,god1 looking into themselves1 regulating their hearts1 reforming their conduct1 and meditating on death and judgment1 heaven and hell1 they seem to become1 in point of intellect1 different beings from what they were4 ,before1 they took things as they came1 and thought no more of one thing than another4 ,but now every event has a meaning2 they have their own estimate of whatever happens to them2 they are mindful of times and seasons1 and compare the present with the past2 and the world1 no longer dull1 monotonous1 unprofitable1 and hopeless1 is a various and complicated drama1 with parts and an object1 and an awful moral4 ,now from these instances1 to which many more might be added1 it is plain1 first1 that the communication of knowledge certainly is either a condition or the means of that sense of enlargement or enlightenment1 of which at this day we hear so much in certain quarters3 this cannot be denied2 but next1 it is equally plain1 that such communication is not the whole of the process4 ,the enlargement consists1 not merely in the passive reception into the mind of a number of ideas hitherto unknown to it1 but in the mind's energetic and simultaneous action upon and towards and among those new ideas1 which are rushing in upon it4 ,it is the action of a formative power1 reducing to order and meaning the matter of our acquirements2 it is a making the objects of our knowledge subjectively our own1 or1 to use a familiar word1 it is a digestion of what we receive1 into the substance of our previous state of thought2 and without this no enlargement is said to follow4 ,there is no enlargement1 unless there be a comparison of ideas one with another1 as they come before the mind1 and a systematising of them4 ,we feel our minds to be growing and expanding then1 when we not only learn1 but refer what we learn to what we know already4 ,it is not the mere addition to our knowledge that is the illumination2 but the locomotion1 the movement onwards1 of that mental centre1 to which both what we know1 and what we are learning1 the accumulating mass of our acquirements1 gravitates4 ,and therefore a truly great intellect1 and recognised to be such by the common opinion of mankind1 such as the intellect of ,aristotle1 or of ,st4 ,thomas1 or of ,newton1 or of ,goethe 7,i purposely take instances within and without the ,catholic pale1 when ,i would speak of the intellect as such71 is one which takes a connected view of old and new1 past and present1 far and near1 and which has an insight into the influence of all these one on another2 without which there is no whole and no centre4 ,it possesses the knowledge1 not only of things1 but also of their mutual and true relations2 knowledge1 not merely considered as acquirement but as philosophy4 ,accordingly1 when this analytical1 distributive1 harmonising process is away1 the mind experiences no enlargement1 and is not reckoned as enlightened or comprehensive1 whatever it may add to its knowledge4 ,for instance1 a great memory1 as ,i have already said1 does not make a philosopher1 any more than a dictionary can be called a grammar4 ,there are men who embrace in their minds a vast multitude of ideas1 but with little sensibility about their real relations towards each other4 ,these may be antiquarians1 annalists1 naturalists2 they may be learned in the law2 they may be versed in statistics2 they are most useful in their own place2 ,i should shrink from speaking disrespectfully of them2 still1 there is nothing in such attainments to guarantee the absence of narrowness of mind4 ,if they are nothing more than well-read men1 or men of information1 they have not what specially deserves the name of culture of mind1 or fulfils the type of liberal education4 ,in like manner1 we sometimes fall in with persons who have seen much of the world1 and of the men who1 in their day1 have played a conspicuous part in it1 but who generalise1 nothing1 and have no observation1 in the true sense of the word4 ,they abound in information in detail1 curious and entertaining1 about men and things2 and1 having lived under the influence of no very clear or settled principles1 religious or political1 they speak of every one and every thing1 only as so many phenomena1 which are complete in themselves1 and lead to nothing1 not discussing them1 or teaching any truth1 or instructing the hearer1 but simply talking4 ,no one would say that these persons1 well informed as they are1 had attained to any great culture of intellect or to philosophy4 ,the case is the same still more strikingly where the persons in question are beyond dispute men of inferior powers and deficient education4 ,perhaps they have been much in foreign countries1 and they receive1 in a passive1 otiose1 unfruitful way1 the various facts which are forced upon them there4 ,seafaring men1 for example1 range from one end of the earth to the other2 but the multiplicity of external objects1 which they have encountered1 forms no symmetrical and consistent picture upon their imagination2 they see the tapestry of human life1 as it were on the wrong side1 and it tells no story4 ,they sleep1 and they rise up1 and they find themselves1 now in ,europe1 now in ,asia2 they see visions of great cities and wild regions2 they are in the marts of commerce1 or amid the islands of the ,south2 they gaze on ,pompey's ,pillar1 or on the ,andes2 and nothing which meets them carries them forward or backward1 to any idea beyond itself4 ,nothing has a drift or relation2 nothing has a history or a promise4 ,every thing stands by itself1 and comes and goes in its turn1 like the shifting scenes of a show1 which leave the spectator where he was4 ,perhaps you are near such a man on a particular occasion1 and expect him to be shocked or perplexed at something which occurs2 but one thing is much the same to him as another1 or1 if he is perplexed1 it is as not knowing what to say1 whether it is right to admire1 or to ridicule or to disapprove1 while conscious that some expression of opinion is expected from him2 for in fact he has no standard of judgment at all1 and no landmarks to guide him to a conclusion4 ,such is mere acquisition1 and1 ,i repeat1 no one would dream of calling it philosophy4 ,instances1 such as these1 confirm1 by the contrast1 the conclusion ,i have already drawn from those which preceded them4 ,that only is true enlargement of mind which is the power of viewing many things at once as one whole1 of referring them severally to their true place in the universal system1 of understanding their respective values1 and determining their mutual dependence4 ,thus is that form of universal knowledge1 of which ,i have on a former occasion spoken1 set up in the individual intellect1 and constitutes its perfection4 ,possessed of this real illumination1 the mind never views any part of the extended subject-matter of knowledge without recollecting that it is but a part1 or without the associations which spring from this recollection4 ,it makes everything in some sort lead to everything else2 it would communicate the image of the whole to every separate portion1 till that whole becomes in imagination like a spirit1 everywhere pervading and penetrating its component parts1 and giving them one definite meaning4 ,just as our bodily organs1 when mentioned1 recall their function in the body1 as the word creation suggests the ,creator1 and subjects a sovereign1 so1 in the mind of the philosopher as we are abstractedly conceiving of him1 the elements of the physical and moral world1 sciences1 arts1 pursuits1 ranks1 offices1 events1 opinions1 individualities1 are all viewed as one with correlative functions1 and as gradually by successive combinations converging1 one and all1 to the true centre4 ,to have even a portion of this illuminative reason and true philosophy is the highest state to which nature can aspire1 in the way of intellect2 it puts the mind above the influences of chance and necessity1 above anxiety1 suspense1 unsettlement1 and superstition1 which is the lot of the many4 ,men1 whose minds are possessed with some one object1 take exaggerated views of its importance1 are feverish in the pursuit of it1 make it the measure of things which are utterly foreign to it1 and are startled and despond if it happens to fail them4 ,they are ever in alarm or in transport4 ,those on the other hand who have no object or principle whatever to hold by1 lose their way every step they take4 ,they are thrown out1 and do not know what to think or say1 at every fresh juncture2 they have no view of persons1 or occurrences1 or facts1 which come suddenly upon them1 and they hang upon the opinion of others for want of internal resources4 ,but the intellect1 which has been disciplined to the perfection of its powers1 which knows1 and thinks while it knows1 which has learned to leaven the dense mass of facts and events with the elastic force of reason1 such an intellect cannot be partial1 cannot be exclusive1 cannot be impetuous1 cannot be at a loss1 cannot but be patient1 collected1 and majestically calm1 because it discerns the end in every beginning1 the origin in every end1 the law in every interruption1 the limit in each delay2 because it ever knows where it stands1 and how its path lies from one point to another4 ,it is the ,greek3 tetragonos#ac of the ,peripatetic1 and has the nil admirari#ad of the ,stoic1-- ,felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas1 ,atque metus omnes1 et inexorabile fatum ,subjecit pedibus1 strepitumque ,acherontis avari4#ae ,there are men who1 when in difficulties1 originate at the moment vast ideas or dazzling projects2 who1 under the influence of excitement1 are able to cast a light1 almost as if from inspiration1 on a subject or course of action which comes before them2 who have a sudden presence of mind equal to any emergency1 rising with the occasion1 and an undaunted magnanimous bearing1 and an energy and keenness which is but made intense by opposition4 ,this is genius1 this is heroism2 it is the exhibition of a natural gift1 which no culture can teach1 at which no institution can aim3 here1 on the contrary1 we are concerned1 not with mere nature1 but with training and teaching4 ,that perfection of the intellect1 which is the result of education1 and its beau ideal1 to be imparted to individuals in their respective measures1 is the clear1 calm1 accurate vision and comprehension of all things1 as far as the finite mind can embrace them1 each in its place1 and with its own characteristics upon it4 ,it is almost prophetic from its knowledge of history2 it is almost heart-searching from its knowledge of human nature2 it has almost supernatural charity from its freedom from littleness and prejudice2 it has almost the repose of faith1 because nothing can startle it2 it has almost the beauty and harmony of heavenly contemplation1 so intimate is it with the eternal order of things and the music of the spheres4 ,and now1 if ,i may take for granted that the true and adequate end of intellectual training and of a university is not learning or acquirement1 but rather1 is thought or reason exercised upon knowledge1 or what may be called philosophy1 ,i shall be in a position to explain the various mistakes which at the present day beset the subject of university education4 ,i say then1 if we would improve the intellect1 first of all1 we must ascend2 we cannot gain real knowledge on a level2 we must generalise1 we must reduce to method1 we must have a grasp of principles1 and group and shape our acquisitions by means of them4 ,it matters not whether our field of operation be wide or limited2 in every case1 to command it1 is to mount above it4 ,who has not felt the irritation of mind and impatience created by a deep1 rich country1 visited for the first time1 with winding lanes1 and high hedges1 and green steeps1 and tangled woods1 and every thing smiling indeed1 but in a maze8 ,the same feeling comes upon us in a strange city1 when we have no map of its streets4 ,hence you hear of practised travellers1 when they first come into a place1 mounting some high hill or church tower1 by way of reconnoitering its neighbourhood4 ,in like manner1 you must be above your knowledge1 not under it1 or it will oppress you2 and the more you have of it1 the greater will be the load4 ,the learning of a ,salmasius or a ,burman1 unless you are its master1 will be your tyrant4 ,imperat aut servit2#af if you can wield it with a strong arm1 it is a great weapon2 otherwise1 ,vis consili expers ,mole ruit su4#ag ,you will be overwhelmed1 like ,tarpeia1 by the heavy wealth which you have exacted from tributary generations4 ,instances abound2 there are authors who are as pointless as they are inexhaustible in their literary resources4 ,they measure knowledge by bulk1 as it lies in the rude block1 without symmetry1 without design4 ,how many commentators are there on the classics1 how many on ,holy ,scripture1 from whom we rise up1 wondering at the learning which has passed before us1 and wondering why it passed6 ,how many writers are there of ,ecclesiastical history1 such as ,mosheim or ,du ,pin1 who1 breaking up their subject into details1 destroy its life1 and defraud us of the whole by their anxiety about the parts6 ,the sermons1 again1 of the ,english divines in the seventeenth century1 how often are they mere repertories of miscellaneous and officious learning6 ,of course ,catholics also may read without thinking2 and in their case1 equally as with ,protestants1 it holds good1 that such knowledge is unworthy of the name1 knowledge which they have not thought through1 and thought out4 ,such readers are only possessed by their knowledge1 not possessed of it2 nay1 in matter of fact they are often even carried away by it1 without any volition of their own4 ,recollect1 the memory can tyrannise1 as well as the imagination4 ,derangement1 ,i believe1 has been considered as a loss of control over the sequence of ideas4 ,the mind1 once set in motion1 is henceforth deprived of the power of initiation1 and becomes the victim of a train of associations1 one thought suggesting another1 in the way of cause and effect1 as if by a mechanical process1 or some physical necessity4 ,no one1 who has had experience of men of studious habits1 but must recognise the existence of a parallel phenomenon in the case of those who have over-stimulated the memory4 ,in such persons reason acts almost as feebly and as impotently as in the madman2 once fairly started on any subject whatever1 they have no power of self-control2 they passively endure the succession of impulses which are evolved out of the original exciting cause2 they are passed on from one idea to another and go steadily forward1 plodding along one line of thought in spite of the amplest concessions of the hearer1 or wandering from it in endless digression in spite of his remonstrances4 ,now1 if1 as is very certain1 no one would envy the madman the glow and originality of his conceptions1 why must we extol the cultivation of that intellect which is the prey1 not indeed of barren fancies but of barren facts1 of random intrusions from without1 though not of morbid imaginations from within8 ,and in thus speaking1 ,i am not denying that a strong and ready memory is in itself a real treasure2 ,i am not disparaging a well-stored mind1 though it be nothing besides1 provided it be sober1 any more than ,i would despise a bookseller's shop3--it is of great value to others1 even when not so to the owner4 ,nor am ,i banishing1 far from it1 the possessors of deep and multifarious learning from my ideal ,university2 they adorn it in the eyes of men2 ,i do but say that they constitute no type of the results at which it aims2 that it is no great gain to the intellect to have enlarged the memory at the expense of faculties which are indisputably higher4 ,nor indeed am ,i supposing that there is any great danger1 at least in this day1 of over-education2 the danger is on the other side4 ,i will tell you1 gentlemen1 what has been the practical error of the last twenty years1--not to load the memory of the student with a mass of undigested knowledge1 but to force upon him so much that he has rejected all4 ,it has been the error of distracting and enfeebling the mind by an unmeaning profusion of subjects2 of implying that a smattering in a dozen branches of study is not shallowness1 which it really is1 but enlargement1 which it is not2 of considering an acquaintance with the learned names of things and persons and the possession of clever duodecimos1 and attendance on eloquent lecturers1 and membership with scientific institutions1 and the sight of the experiments of a platform and the specimens of a museum1 that all this was not dissipation of mind1 but progress4 ,all things now are to be learned at once1 not first one thing1 then another1 not one well1 but many badly4 ,learning is to be without exertion1 without attention1 without toil2 without grounding1 without advance1 without finishing4 ,there is to be nothing individual in it2 and this1 forsooth1 is the wonder of the age4 ,what the steam engine does with matter1 the printing press is to do with the mind2 it is to act mechanically1 and the population is to be passively1 almost unconsciously enlightened1 by the mere multiplication and dissemination of volumes4 ,whether it be the school boy1 or the school girl1 or the youth at college1 or the mechanic in the town1 or the politician in the senate1 all have been the victims in one way or other of this most preposterous and pernicious of delusions4 ,wise men have lifted up their voices in vain2 and at length1 lest their own institutions should be outshone and should disappear in the folly of the hour1 they have been obliged1 as far as they could with a good conscience1 to humour a spirit which they could not withstand1 and make temporising concessions at which they could not but inwardly smile4 ,it must not be supposed that1 because ,i so speak1 therefore ,i have some sort of fear of the education of the people3 on the contrary1 the more education they have1 the better1 so that it is really education4 ,nor am ,i an enemy to the cheap publication of scientific and literary works1 which is now in vogue3 on the contrary1 ,i consider it a great advantage1 convenience1 and gain2 that is1 to those to whom education has given a capacity for using them4 ,further1 ,i consider such innocent recreations as science and literature are able to furnish will be a very fit occupation of the thoughts and the leisure of young persons1 and may be made the means of keeping them from bad employments and bad companions4 ,moreover1 as to that superficial acquaintance with chemistry1 and geology1 and astronomy1 and political economy1 and modern history1 and biography1 and other branches of knowledge1 which periodical literature and occasional lectures and scientific institutions diffuse through the community1 ,i think it a graceful accomplishment1 and a suitable1 nay1 in this day a necessary accomplishment1 in the case of educated men4 ,nor1 lastly1 am ,i disparaging or discouraging the thorough acquisition of any one of these studies1 or denying that1 as far as it goes1 such thorough acquisition is a real education of the mind4 ,all ,i say is1 call things by their right names1 and do not confuse together ideas which are essentially different4 ,a thorough knowledge of one science and a superficial acquaintance with many1 are not the same thing2 a smattering of a hundred things or a memory for detail1 is not a philosophical or comprehensive view4 ,recreations are not education2 accomplishments are not education4 ,do not say1 the people must be educated1 when1 after all1 you only mean amused1 refreshed1 soothed1 put into good spirits and good humour1 or kept from vicious excesses4 ,i do not say that such amusements1 such occupations of mind1 are not a great gain2 but they are not education4 ,you may as well call drawing and fencing education as a general knowledge of botany or conchology4 ,stuffing birds or playing stringed instruments is an elegant pastime1 and a resource to the idle1 but it is not education2 it does not form or cultivate the intellect4 ,education is a high word2 it is the preparation for knowledge1 and it is the imparting of knowledge in proportion to that preparation4 ,we require intellectual eyes to know withal1 as bodily eyes for sight4 ,we need both objects and organs intellectual2 we cannot gain them without setting about it2 we cannot gain them in our sleep1 or by haphazard4 ,the best telescope does not dispense with eyes2 the printing press or the lecture room will assist us greatly1 but we must be true to ourselves1 we must be parties in the work4 ,a university is1 according to the usual designation1 an alma mater1 knowing her children one by one1 not a foundry1 or a mint1 or a treadmill4 ,i protest to you1 gentlemen1 that if ,i had to choose between a so-called university1 which dispensed with residence and tutorial superintendence1 and gave its degrees to any person who passed an examination in a wide range of subjects1 and a university which had no professors or examinations at all1 but merely brought a number of young men together for three or four years1 and then sent them away as the ,university of ,oxford is said to have done some sixty years since1 if ,i were asked which of these two methods was the better discipline of the intellect1--mind1 ,i do not say which is morally the better1 for it is plain that compulsory study must be a good and idleness an intolerable mischief1--but if ,i must determine which of the two courses was the more successful in training1 moulding1 enlarging the mind1 which sent out men the more fitted for their secular duties1 which produced better public men1 men of the world1 men whose names would descend to posterity1 ,i have no hesitation in giving the preference to that university which did nothing1 over that which exacted of its members an acquaintance with every science under the sun4 ,and1 paradox as this may seem1 still if results be the test of systems1 the influence of the public schools and colleges of ,england1 in the course of the last century1 at least will bear out one side of the contrast as ,i have drawn it4 ,what would come1 on the other hand1 of the ideal systems of education which have fascinated the imagination of this age1 could they ever take effect1 and whether they would not produce a generation frivolous1 narrow-minded1 and resourceless1 intellectually considered1 is a fair subject for debate2 but so far is certain1 that the universities and scholastic establishments1 to which ,i refer1 and which did little more than bring together first boys and then youths in large numbers1 these institutions1 with miserable deformities on the side of morals1 with a hollow profession of ,christianity1 and a heathen code of ethics1--,i say1 at least they can boast of a succession of heroes and statesmen1 of literary men and philosophers1 of men conspicuous for great natural virtues1 for habits of business1 for knowledge of life1 for practical judgment1 for cultivated tastes1 for accomplishments1 who have made ,england what it is1--able to subdue the earth1 able to domineer over ,catholics4 ,how is this to be explained8 ,i suppose as follows3 ,when a multitude of young men1 keen1 open-hearted1 sympathetic1 and observant1 as young men are1 come together and freely mix with each other1 they are sure to learn one from another1 even if there be no one to teach them2 the conversation of all is a series of lectures to each1 and they gain for themselves new ideas and views1 fresh matter of thought1 and distinct principles for judging and acting1 day by day4 ,an infant has to learn the meaning of the information which its senses convey to it1 and this seems to be its employment4 ,it fancies all that the eye presents to it to be close to it1 till it actually learns the contrary1 and thus by practice does it ascertain the relations and uses of those first elements of knowledge which are necessary for its animal existence4 ,a parallel teaching is necessary for our social being1 and it is secured by a large school or a college2 and this effect may be fairly called in its own department an enlargement of mind4 ,it is seeing the world on a small field with little trouble2 for the pupils or students come from very different places1 and with widely different notions1 and there is much to generalise1 much to adjust1 much to eliminate1 there are inter-relations to be defined1 and conventional rules to be established1 in the process1 by which the whole assemblage is moulded together1 and gains one tone and one character4 ,let it be clearly understood1 ,i repeat it1 that ,i am not taking into account moral or religious considerations2 ,i am but saying that that youthful community will constitute a whole1 it will embody a specific idea1 it will represent a doctrine1 it will administer a code of conduct1 and it will furnish principles of thought and action4 ,it will give birth to a living teaching1 which in course of time will take the shape of a self-perpetuating tradition1 or a genius loci1#ah as it is sometimes called2 which haunts the home where it has been born1 and which imbues and forms more or less1 and one by one1 every individual who is successively brought under its shadow4 ,thus it is that1 independent of direct instruction on the part of superiors1 there is a sort of self-education in the academic institutions of ,protestant ,england2 a characteristic tone of thought1 a recognised standard of judgment is found in them1 which1 as developed in the individual who is submitted to it1 becomes a twofold source of strength to him1 both from the distinct stamp it impresses on his mind1 and from the bond of union which it creates between him and others1--effects which are shared by the authorities of the place1 for they themselves have been educated in it1 and at all times are exposed to the influence of its ethical atmosphere4 ,here then is a real teaching1 whatever be its standards and principles1 true or false2 and it at least tends towards cultivation of the intellect2 it at least recognises that knowledge is something more than a sort of passive reception of scraps and details2 it is a something1 and it does a something1 which never will issue from the most strenuous efforts of a set of teachers with no mutual sympathies and no intercommunion1 of a set of examiners with no opinions which they dare profess1 and with no common principles1 who are teaching or questioning a set of youths who do not know them1 and do not know each other1 on a large number of subjects1 different in kind1 and connected by no wide philosophy1 three times a week1 or three times a year1 or once in three years1 in chill lecture-rooms or on a pompous anniversary4 ,nay1 self-education in any shape1 in the most restricted sense1 is preferable to a system of teaching which1 professing so much1 really does so little for the mind4 ,shut your college gates against the votary of knowledge1 throw him back upon the searchings and the efforts of his own mind2 he will gain by being spared an entrance into your babel4 ,few indeed there are who can dispense with the stimulus and support of instructors1 or will do anything at all1 if left to themselves4 ,and fewer still 7though such great minds are to be found71 who will not1 from such unassisted attempts1 contract a self-reliance and a self-esteem1 which are not only moral evils1 but serious hindrances to the attainment of truth4 ,and next to none1 perhaps1 or none1 who will not be reminded from time to time of the disadvantage under which they lie1 by their imperfect grounding1 by the breaks1 deficiencies1 and irregularities of their knowledge1 by the eccentricity of opinion and the confusion of principle which they exhibit4 ,they will be too often ignorant of what every one knows and takes for granted1 of that multitude of small truths which fall upon the mind like dust1 impalpable and ever accumulating2 they may be unable to converse1 they may argue perversely1 they may pride themselves on their worst paradoxes or their grossest truisms1 they may be full of their own mode of viewing things1 unwilling to be put out of their way1 slow to enter into the minds of others2--but1 with these and whatever other liabilities upon their heads1 they are likely to have more thought1 more mind1 more philosophy1 more true enlargement1 than those earnest but ill-used persons who are forced to load their minds with a score of subjects against an examination1 who have too much on their hands to indulge themselves in thinking or investigation1 who devour premise and conclusion together with indiscriminate greediness1 who hold whole sciences on faith1 and commit demonstrations to memory1 and who too often1 as might be expected1 when their period of education is passed1 throw up all they have learned in disgust1 having gained nothing really by their anxious labours1 except perhaps the habit of application4 ,yet such is the better specimen of the fruit of that ambitious system which has of late years been making way among us3 for its result on ordinary minds1 and on the common run of students1 is less satisfactory still2 they leave their place of education simply dissipated and relaxed by the multiplicity of subjects1 which they have never really mastered1 and so shallow as not even to know their shallowness4 ,how much better1 ,i say1 it is for the active and thoughtful intellect1 where such is to be found1 to eschew the college and the university altogether1 than to submit to a drudgery so ignoble1 a mockery so contumelious6 ,how much more profitable for the independent mind1 after the mere rudiments of education1 to range through a library at random1 taking down books as they meet him1 and pursuing the trains of thought which his mother wit suggests6 ,how much healthier to wander into the fields1 and there with the exiled prince to find tongues in the trees1 books in the running brooks6 ,how much more genuine an education is that of the poor boy in the poem#ai--;a poem1 whether in conception or execution1 one of the most touching in our language--who1 not in the wide world1 but ranging day by day around his widowed mother's home1 a dextrous gleaner in a narrow field and with only such slender outfit as the village school and books a few ,supplied1 contrived from the beach1 and the quay1 and the fisher's boat1 and the inn's fireside1 and the tradesman's shop1 and the shepherd's walk1 and the smuggler's hut1 and the mossy moor1 and the screaming gulls1 and the restless waves1 to fashion for himself a philosophy and a poetry of his own6 ,but in a large subject1 ,i am exceeding my necessary limits4 ,gentlemen1 ,i must conclude abruptly2 and postpone any summing up of my argument1 should that be necessary1 to another day4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #aa3 ,discourse ,,vi in ,the ,idea of a ,university1 #aheb4 ,footnote #ab3 ,prima-facie3 based on one's first impression4 ,footnote #ac3 ,four-square4 ,footnote #ad3 ,to be moved by nothing4 ,footnote #ae3 ,happy is he who has come to know the sequences of things1 and is thus above all fear and the dread march of fate and the roar of greedy ,acheron4 ,footnote #af3 ,it rules or it serves4 ,footnote #ag3 ,brute force without intelligence falls by its own weight4 ,footnote #ah3 ,genius loci3 spirit of the place4 ,footnote #ai3 ,crabbe's ,tales of the ,hall4 ,this poem1 let me say1 ,i read on its first publication1 above thirty years ago1 with extreme delight1 and have never lost my love of it2 and on taking it up lately1 found ,i was even more touched by it than heretofore4 ,a work which can please in youth and age1 seems to fulfil 7in logical language7 the accidental definition of a classic4 7,a further course of twenty years has passed1 and ,i bear the same witness in favour of this poem47 ,,literature ,,and ,,science#bj ,,matthew ,,arnold ,practical people talk with a smile of ,plato and of his absolute ideas2 and it is impossible to deny that ,plato's ideas do often seem unpractical and impracticable1 and especially when one views them in connection with the life of a great workaday world like the ,united ,states4 ,the necessary staple of the life of such a world ,plato regards with disdain2 handicraft and trade and the working professions he regards with disdain2 but what becomes of the life of an industrial modern community if you take handicraft and trade and the working professions out of it8 ,the base mechanic arts and handicrafts1 says ,plato1 bring about a natural weakness in the principle of excellence in a man1 so that he cannot govern the ignoble growths in him1 but nurses them1 and cannot understand fostering any other4 ,those who exercise such arts and trades1 as they have their bodies1 he says1 marred by their vulgar businesses1 so they have their souls1 too1 bowed and broken by them4 ,and if one of these uncomely people has a mind to seek self-culture and philosophy1 ,plato compares him to a bald little tinker1 who has scraped together money1 and has got his release from service1 and has had a bath1 and bought a new coat1 and is rigged out like a bridegroom about to marry the daughter of his master who has fallen into poor and helpless estate4 ,nor do the working professions fare any better than trade at the hands of ,plato4 ,he draws for us an inimitable picture of the working lawyer1 and of his life of bondage2 he shows how this bondage from his youth up has stunted and warped him1 and made him small and crooked of soul1 encompassing him with difficulties which he is not man enough to rely on justice and truth as means to encounter1 but has recourse1 for help out of them1 to falsehood and wrong4 ,and so1 says ,plato1 this poor creature is bent and broken1 and grows up from boy to man without a particle of soundness in him1 although exceedingly smart and clever in his own esteem4 ,one cannot refuse to admire the artist who draws these pictures4 ,but we say to ourselves that his ideas show the influence of a primitive and obsolete order of things1 when the warrior caste and the priestly caste were alone in honour1 and the humble work of the world was done by slaves4 ,we have now changed all that2 the modern majority consists in work1 as ,emerson declares2 and in work1 we may add1 principally of such plain and dusty kind as the work of cultivators of the ground1 handicraftsmen1 men of trade and business1 men of the working professions4 ,above all is this true in a great industrious community such as that of the ,united ,states4 ,now education1 many people go on to say1 is still mainly governed by the ideas of men like ,plato1 who lived when the warrior caste and the priestly or philosophical class were alone in honour1 and the really useful part of the community were slaves4 ,it is an education fitted for persons of leisure in such a community4 ,this education passed from ,greece and ,rome to the feudal communities of ,europe1 where also the warrior caste and the priestly caste were alone held in honour1 and where the really useful and working part of the community1 though not nominally slaves as in the pagan world1 were practically not much better off than slaves1 and not more seriously regarded4 ,and how absurd it is1 people end by saying1 to inflict this education upon an industrious modern community1 where very few indeed are persons of leisure1 and the mass to be considered has not leisure1 but is bound1 for its own great good1 and for the great good of the world at large1 to plain labour and to industrial pursuits1 and the education in question tends necessarily to make men dissatisfied with these pursuits and unfitted for them6 ,that is what is said4 ,so far ,i must defend ,plato1 as to plead that his view of education and studies is in the general1 as it seems to me1 sound enough1 and fitted for all sorts and conditions of men1 whatever their pursuits may be4 ,an intelligent man1 says ,plato1 will prize those studies which result in his soul getting soberness1 righteousness1 and wisdom1 and will less value the others4 ,i cannot consider that a bad description of the aim of education1 and of the motives which should govern us in the choice of studies1 whether we are preparing ourselves for a hereditary seat in the ,english ,house of ,lords or for the pork trade in ,chicago4 ,still ,i admit that ,plato's world was not ours1 that his scorn of trade and handicraft is fantastic1 that he had no conception of a great industrial community such as that of the ,united ,states1 and that such a community must and will shape its education to suit its own needs4 ,if the usual education handed down to it from the past does not suit it1 it will certainly before long drop this and try another4 ,the usual education in the past has been mainly literary4 ,the question is whether the studies which were long supposed to be the best for all of us are practically the best now2 whether others are not better4 ,the tyranny of the past1 many think1 weighs on us injuriously in the predominance given to letters in education4 ,the question is raised whether1 to meet the needs of our modern life1 the predominance ought not now to pass from letters to science2 and naturally the question is nowhere raised with more energy than here in the ,united ,states4 ,the design of abasing what is called mere literary instruction and education1 and of exalting what is called sound1 extensive1 and practical scientific knowledge1 is1 in this intensely modern world of the ,united ,states1 even more perhaps than in ,europe1 a very popular design1 and makes great and rapid progress4 ,i am going to ask whether the present movement for ousting letters from their old predominance in education1 and for transferring the predominance in education to the natural sciences2 whether this brisk and flourishing movement ought to prevail1 and whether it is likely that in the end it really will prevail4 ,an objection may be raised which ,i will anticipate4 ,my own studies have been almost wholly in letters1 and my visits to the field of the natural sciences have been very slight and inadequate1 although those sciences have always strongly moved my curiosity4 ,a man of letters1 it will perhaps be said1 is not competent to discuss the comparative merits of letters and natural science as means of education4 ,to this objection ,i reply1 first of all1 that his incompetence if he attempts the discussion but is really incompetent for it1 will be abundantly visible2 nobody will be taken in2 he will have plenty of sharp observers and critics to save mankind from that danger4 ,but the line ,i am going to follow is1 as you will soon discover1 so extremely simple1 that perhaps it may be followed without failure even by one who for a more ambitious line of discussion would be quite incompetent4 ,some of you may possibly remember a phrase of mine which has been the object of a good deal of comment2 an observation to the effect that in our culture1 the aim being to know ourselves and the world1 we have1 as the means to this end1 to know the best which has been thought and said in the world4 ,a man of science1 who is also an excellent writer and the very prince of debaters1 ,professor ,huxley1 in a discourse at the opening of ,sir ,josiah ,mason's ,college at ,birmingham1 laying hold of this phrase1 expanded it by quoting some more words of mine1 which are these3 ,the civilised world is to be regarded as now being1 for intellectual and spiritual purposes1 one great confederation1 bound to a joint action and working to a common result2 and whose members have for their proper outfit a knowledge of ,greek1 ,roman1 and ,eastern antiquity1 and of one another4 ,special local and temporary advantages being put out of account1 that modern nation will in the intellectual and spiritual sphere make most progress1 which most thoroughly carries out this programme4 ,now on my phrase1 thus enlarged1 ,professor ,huxley remarks that when ,i speak of the above-mentioned knowledge as enabling us to know ourselves and the world1 ,i assert literature to contain the materials which suffice for thus making us know ourselves and the world4 ,but it is not by any means clear1 says he1 that after having learned all which ancient and modern literatures have to tell us1 we have laid a sufficiently broad and deep foundation for that criticism of life1 that knowledge of ourselves and the world1 which constitutes culture4 ,on the contrary1 ,professor ,huxley declares that he finds himself wholly unable to admit that either nations or individuals will really advance1 if their outfit draws nothing from the stores of physical science4 ,an army without weapons of precision1 and with no particular base of operations1 might more hopefully enter upon a campaign on the ,rhine1 than a man1 devoid of a knowledge of what physical science has done in the last century1 upon a criticism of life4 ,this shows how needful it is for those who are to discuss any matter together1 to have a common understanding as to the sense of the terms they employ1--how needful1 and how difficult4 ,what ,professor ,huxley says1 implies just the reproach which is so often brought against the study of belles lettres1 as they are called3 that the study is an elegant one1 but slight and ineffectual2 a smattering of ,greek and ,latin and other ornamental things1 of little use for any one whose object is to get at truth1 and to be a practical man4 ,so1 too1 ,m4 ,renan talks of the superficial humanism of a school course which treats us as if we were all going to be poets1 writers1 preachers1 orators1 and he opposes this humanism to positive science1 or the critical search after truth4 ,and there is always a tendency in those who are remonstrating against the predominance of letters in education1 to understand by letters belles lettres1 and by belles lettres a superficial humanism1 the opposite of science or true knowledge4 ,but when we talk of knowing ,greek and ,roman antiquity1 for instance1 which is the knowledge people have called the humanities1 ,i for my part mean a knowledge which is something more than a superficial humanism1 mainly decorative4 ,i call all teaching scientific1 says ,wolf1 the critic of ,homer1 which is systematically laid out and followed up to its original sources4 ,for example3 a knowledge of classical antiquity is scientific when the remains of classical antiquity are correctly studied in the original languages4 ,there can be no doubt that ,wolf is perfectly right2 that all learning is scientific which is systematically laid out and followed up to its original sources1 and that a genuine humanism is scientific4 ,when ,i speak of knowing ,greek and ,roman antiquity1 therefore1 as a help to knowing ourselves and the world1 ,i mean more than a knowledge of so much vocabulary1 so much grammar1 so many portions of authors in the ,greek and ,latin languages2 ,i mean knowing the ,greeks and ,romans1 and their life and genius1 and what they were and did in the world2 what we get from them1 and what is its value3 ,that1 at least1 is the ideal2 and when we talk of endeavouring to know ,greek and ,roman antiquity1 as a help to knowing ourselves and the world1 we mean endeavouring so to know them as to satisfy this ideal1 however much we may still fall short of it4 ,the same also as to knowing our own and other modern nations1 with the like aim of getting to understand ourselves and the world4 ,to know the best that has been thought and said by the modern nations1 is to know1 says ,professor ,huxley1 only what modern literatures have to tell us2 it is the criticism of life contained in modern literature4 ,and yet the distinctive character of our times1 he urges1 lies in the vast and constantly increasing part which is played by natural knowledge4 ,and how1 therefore1 can a man1 devoid of knowledge of what physical science has done in the last century1 enter hopefully upon a criticism of modern life8 ,let us1 ,i say1 be agreed about the meaning of the terms we are using4 ,i talk of knowing the best which has been thought and uttered in the world2 ,professor ,huxley says this means knowing literature4 ,literature is a large word2 it may mean everything written with letters or printed in a book4 ,euclid's ,elements and ,newton's ,principia are thus literature4 ,all knowledge that reaches us through books is literature4 ,but by literature ,professor ,huxley means belles lettres4 ,he means to make me say1 that knowing the best which has been thought and said by the modern nations is knowing their belles lettres and no more4 ,and this is no sufficient equipment1 he argues1 for a criticism of modern life4 ,but as ,i do not mean1 by knowing ancient ,rome1 knowing merely more or less of ,latin belles lettres1 and taking no account of ,rome's military1 and political1 and legal1 and administrative work in the world2 and as1 by knowing ancient ,greece1 ,i understand knowing her as the giver of ,greek art1 and the guide to a free and right use of reason and to scientific method1 and the founder of our mathematics and physics and astronomy and biology1--,i understand knowing her as all this1 and not merely knowing certain ,greek poems1 and histories1 and treatises1 and speeches1--so as to the knowledge of modern nations also4 ,by knowing modern nations1 ,i mean not merely knowing their belles lettres1 but knowing also what has been done by such men as ,copernicus1 ,galileo1 ,newton1 ,darwin4 ,our ancestors learned1 says ,professor ,huxley1 that the earth is the centre of the visible universe1 and that man is the cynosure of things terrestrial2 and more especially was it inculcated that the course of nature has no fixed order1 but that it could be1 and constantly was1 altered4 ,but for us now1 continues ,professor ,huxley1 the notions of the beginning and the end of the world entertained by our forefathers are no longer credible4 ,it is very certain that the earth is not the chief body in the material universe1 and that the world is not subordinated to man's use4 ,it is even more certain that nature is the expression of a definite order1 with which nothing interferes4 ,and yet1 he cries1 the purely classical education advocated by the representatives of the humanists in our day gives no inkling of all this6 ,in due place and time ,i will just touch upon that vexed question of classical education2 but at present the question is as to what is meant by knowing the best which modern nations have thought and said4 ,it is not knowing their belles lettres merely which is meant4 ,to know ,italian belles lettres is not to know ,italy1 and to know ,english belles lettres is not to know ,england4 ,into knowing ,italy and ,england there comes a great deal more1 ,galileo and ,newton amongst it4 ,the reproach of being a superficial humanism1 a tincture of belles lettres1 may attach rightly enough to some other disciplines2 but to the particular discipline recommended when ,i proposed knowing the best that has been thought and said in the world1 it does not apply4 ,in that best ,i certainly include what in modern times has been thought and said by the great observers and knowers of nature4 ,there is1 therefore1 really no question between ,professor ,huxley and me as to whether knowing the great results of the modern scientific study of nature is not required as a part of our culture1 as well as knowing the products of literature and art4 ,but to follow the processes by which those results are reached1 ought1 say the friends of physical science1 to be made the staple of education for the bulk of mankind4 ,and here there does arise a question between those whom ,professor ,huxley calls with playful sarcasm the ,levites of culture1 and those whom the poor humanist is sometimes apt to regard as its ,nebuchadnezzars4 ,the great results of the scientific investigation of nature we are agreed upon knowing1 but how much of our study are we bound to give to the processes by which those results are reached8 ,the results have their visible bearing on human life4 ,but all the processes1 too1 all the items of fact by which those results are reached and established1 are interesting4 ,all knowledge is interesting to a wise man1 and the knowledge of nature is interesting to all men4 ,it is very interesting to know1 that1 from the albuminous white of the egg1 the chick in the egg gets the materials for its flesh1 bones1 blood1 and feathers2 while1 from the fatty yolk of the egg1 it gets the heat and energy which enable it at length to break its shell and begin the world4 ,it is less interesting1 perhaps1 but still it is interesting1 to know that when a taper burns1 the wax is converted into carbonic acid and water4 ,moreover1 it is quite true that the habit of dealing with facts1 which is given by the study of nature1 is1 as the friends of physical science praise it for being1 an excellent discipline4 ,the appeal1 in the study of nature1 is constantly to observation and experiment2 not only is it said that the thing is so1 but we can be made to see that it is so4 ,not only does a man tell us that when a taper burns the wax is converted into carbonic acid and water1 as a man may tell us1 if he likes1 that ,charon is punting his ferry boat on the river ,styx1 or that ,victor ,hugo is a sublime poet1 or ,mr4 ,gladstone the most admirable of statesmen2 but we are made to see that the conversion into carbonic acid and water does actually happen4 ,this reality of natural knowledge it is1 which makes the friends of physical science contrast it1 as a knowledge of things1 with the humanist's knowledge1 which is1 they say1 a knowledge of words4 ,and hence ,professor ,huxley is moved to lay it down that1 for the purpose of attaining real culture1 an exclusively scientific education is at least as effectual as an exclusively literary education4 ,and a certain ,president of the ,section for ,mechanical ,science in the ,british ,association is1 in ,scripture phrase1 very bold1 and declares that if a man1 in his mental training1 has substituted literature and history for natural science1 he has chosen the less useful alternative4 ,but whether we go these lengths or not1 we must all admit that in natural science the habit gained of dealing with facts is a most valuable discipline1 and that every one should have some experience of it4 ,more than this1 however1 is demanded by the reformers4 ,it is proposed to make the training in natural science the main part of education1 for the great majority of mankind at any rate4 ,and here1 ,i confess1 ,i part company with the friends of physical science1 with whom up to this point ,i have been agreeing4 ,in differing from them1 however1 ,i wish to proceed with the utmost caution and diffidence4 ,the smallness of my own acquaintance with the disciplines of natural science is ever before my mind1 and ,i am fearful of doing these disciplines an injustice4 ,the ability and pugnacity of the partisans of natural science make them formidable persons to contradict4 ,the tone of tentative inquiry1 which befits a being of dim faculties and bounded knowledge1 is the tone ,i would wish to take and not to depart from4 ,at present it seems to me1 that those who are for giving to natural knowledge1 as they call it1 the chief place in the education of the majority of mankind1 leave one important thing out of their account3 the constitution of human nature4 ,but ,i put this forward on the strength of some facts not at all recondite1 very far from it2 facts capable of being stated in the simplest possible fashion1 and to which1 if ,i so state them1 the man of science will1 ,i am sure1 be willing to allow their due weight4 ,deny the facts altogether1 ,i think1 he hardly can4 ,he can hardly deny1 that when we set ourselves to enumerate the powers which go to the building up of human life1 and say that they are the power of conduct1 the power of intellect and knowledge1 the power of beauty1 and the power of social life and manners--he can hardly deny that this scheme1 though drawn in rough and plain lines enough1 and not pretending to scientific exactness1 does yet give a fairly true representation of the matter4 ,human nature is built up by these powers2 we have the need for them all4 ,when we have rightly met and adjusted the claims of them all1 we shall then be in a fair way for getting soberness and righteousness1 with wisdom4 ,this is evident enough1 and the friends of physical science would admit it4 ,but perhaps they may not have sufficiently observed another thing3 namely1 that the several powers just mentioned are not isolated1 but there is1 in the generality of mankind1 a perpetual tendency to relate them one to another in divers ways4 ,with one such way of relating them ,i am particularly concerned now4 ,following our instinct for intellect and knowledge1 we acquire pieces of knowledge2 and presently1 in the generality of men1 there arises the desire to relate these pieces of knowledge to our sense for conduct1 to our sense for beauty1--and there is weariness and dissatisfaction if the desire is balked4 ,now in this desire lies1 ,i think1 the strength of that hold which letters have upon us4 ,all knowledge is1 as ,i said just now1 interesting2 and even items of knowledge which from the nature of the case cannot well be related1 but must stand isolated in our thoughts1 have their interest4 ,even lists of exceptions have their interest4 ,if we are studying ,greek accents1 it is interesting to know that pais and pas1 and some other monosyllables of the same form of declension1 do not take the circumflex upon the last syllable of the genitive plural1 but vary1 in this respect1 from the common rule4 ,if we are studying physiology1 it is interesting to know that the pulmonary artery carries dark blood and the pulmonary vein carries bright blood1 departing in this respect from the common rule1 for the division of labour between the veins and the arteries4 ,but every one knows how we seek naturally to combine the pieces of our knowledge together1 to bring them under general rules1 to relate them to principles2 and how unsatisfactory and tiresome it would be to go on forever learning lists of exceptions1 or accumulating items of fact which must stand isolated4 ,well1 that same need of relating our knowledge1 which operates here within the sphere of our knowledge itself1 we shall find operating1 also1 outside that sphere4 ,we experience1 as we go on learning and knowing1--the vast majority of us experience1--the need of relating what we have learned and known to the sense which we have in us for conduct1 to the sense which we have in us for beauty4 ,a certain ,greek prophetess of ,mantineia in ,arcadia1 ,diotima by name1 once explained to the philosopher ,socrates that love1 and impulse1 and bent of all kinds1 is1 in fact1 nothing else but the desire in men that good should forever be present to them4 ,this desire for good1 ,diotima assured ,socrates1 is our fundamental desire1 of which fundamental desire every impulse in us is only some one particular form4 ,and therefore this fundamental desire it is1 ,i suppose1--this desire in men that good should be forever present to them1--which acts in us when we feel the impulse for relating our knowledge to our sense for conduct and to our sense for beauty4 ,at any rate1 with men in general the instinct exists4 ,such is human nature4 ,and the instinct1 it will be admitted1 is innocent1 and human nature is preserved by our following the lead of its innocent instincts4 ,therefore1 in seeking to gratify this instinct in question1 we are following the instinct of self-preservation in humanity4 ,but1 no doubt1 some kinds of knowledge cannot be made to directly serve the instinct in question1 cannot be directly related to the sense for beauty1 to the sense for conduct4 ,these are instrument-knowledges2 they lead on to other knowledges1 which can4 ,a man who passes his life in instrument-knowledges is a specialist4 ,they may be invaluable as instruments to something beyond1 for those who have the gift thus to employ them2 and they may be disciplines in themselves wherein it is useful for every one to have some schooling4 ,but it is inconceivable that the generality of men should pass all their mental life with ,greek accents or with formal logic4 ,my friend ,professor ,sylvester1 who is one of the first mathematicians in the world1 holds transcendental doctrines as to the virtue of mathematics1 but those doctrines are not for common men4 ,in the very ,senate ,house and heart of our ,english ,cambridge ,i once ventured1 though not without an apology for my profaneness1 to hazard the opinion that for the majority of mankind a little of mathematics1 even1 goes a long way4 ,of course this is quite consistent with their being of immense importance as an instrument to something else2 but it is the few who have the aptitude for thus using them1 not the bulk of mankind4 ,the natural sciences do not1 however1 stand on the same footing with these instrument-knowledges4 ,experience shows us that the generality of men will find more interest in learning that1 when a taper burns1 the wax is converted into carbonic acid and water1 or in learning the explanation of the phenomenon of dew1 or in learning how the circulation of the blood is carried on1 than they find in learning that the genitive plural of pais and pas does not take the circumflex on the termination4 ,and one piece of natural knowledge is added to another1 and others are added to that1 and at last we come to propositions so interesting as ,mr4 ,darwin's famous proposition that our ancestor was a hairy quadruped furnished with a tail and pointed ears1 probably arboreal in his habits4 ,or we come to propositions of such reach and magnitude as those which ,professor ,huxley delivers1 when he says that the notions of our forefathers about the beginning and the end of the world were all wrong and that nature is the expression of a definite order with which nothing interferes4 ,interesting1 indeed1 these results of science are1 important they are1 and we should all of us be acquainted with them4 ,but what ,i now wish you to mark is1 that we are still1 when they are propounded to us and we receive them1 we are still in the sphere of intellect and knowledge4 ,and for the generality of men there will be found1 ,i say1 to arise1 when they have duly taken in the proposition that their ancestor was a hairy quadruped furnished with a tail and pointed ears1 probably arboreal in his habits1 there will be found to arise an invincible desire to relate this proposition to the sense in us for conduct1 and to the sense in us for beauty4 ,but this the men of science will not do for us1 and will hardly even profess to do4 ,they will give us other pieces of knowledge1 other facts1 about other animals and their ancestors1 or about plants1 or about stones1 or about stars2 and they may finally bring us to those great general conceptions of the universe1 which are forced upon us all1 says ,professor ,huxley1 by the progress of physical science4 ,but still it will be knowledge only which they give us2 knowledge not put for us into relation with our sense for conduct1 our sense for beauty1 and touched with emotion by being so put2 not thus put for us1 and therefore1 to the majority of mankind1 after a certain while1 unsatisfying1 wearying4 ,not to the born naturalist1 ,i admit4 ,but what do we mean by a born naturalist8 ,we mean a man in whom the zeal for observing nature is so uncommonly strong and eminent1 that it marks him off from the bulk of mankind4 ,such a man will pass his life happily in collecting natural knowledge and reasoning upon it1 and will ask for nothing1 or hardly anything1 more4 ,i have heard it said that the sagacious and admirable naturalist whom we lost not very long ago1 ,mr4 ,darwin1 once owned to a friend that for his part he did not experience the necessity for two things which most men find so necessary to them1--religion and poetry2 science and the domestic affections1 he thought1 were enough4 ,to a born naturalist1 ,i can well understand that this should seem so4 ,so absorbing is his occupation with nature1 so strong his love for his occupation1 that he goes on acquiring natural knowledge and reasoning upon it1 and has little time or inclination for thinking about getting it related to the desire in man for conduct1 the desire in man for beauty4 ,he relates it to them for himself as he goes along1 so far as he feels the need2 and he draws from the domestic affections all the additional solace necessary4 ,but then ,darwins are extremely rare4 ,another great and admirable master of natural knowledge1 ,faraday1 was a ,sandemanian4 ,that is to say1 he related his knowledge to his instinct for conduct and to his instinct for beauty1 by the aid of that respectable ,scottish sectary1 ,robert ,sandeman4 ,and so strong1 in general1 is the demand of religion and poetry to have their share in a man1 to associate themselves with his knowing1 and to relieve and rejoice it1 that probably1 for one man amongst us with the disposition to do as ,darwin did in this respect1 there are at least fifty with the disposition to do as ,faraday4 ,education lays hold upon us1 in fact1 by satisfying this demand4 ,professor ,huxley holds up to scorn mediaeval education1 with its neglect of the knowledge of nature1 its poverty even of literary studies1 its formal logic devoted to showing how and why that which the ,church said was true must be true4 ,but the great mediaeval universities were not brought into being1 we may be sure1 by the zeal for giving a jejune and contemptible education4 ,kings have been their nursing fathers1 and queens have been their nursing mothers1 but not for this4 ,the mediaeval universities came into being1 because the supposed knowledge1 delivered by ,scripture and the ,church1 so deeply engaged men's hearts1 by so simply1 easily1 and powerfully relating itself to their desire for conduct1 their desire for beauty4 ,all other knowledge was dominated by this supposed knowledge and was subordinated to it1 because of the surpassing strength of the hold which it gained upon the affections of men1 by allying itself profoundly with their sense for conduct1 their sense for beauty4 ,but now1 says ,professor ,huxley1 conceptions of the universe fatal to the notions held by our forefathers have been forced upon us by physical science4 ,grant to him that they are thus fatal1 that the new conceptions must and will soon become current everywhere1 and that every one will finally perceive them to be fatal to the beliefs of our forefathers4 ,the need of humane letters1 as they are truly called1 because they serve the paramount desire in men that good should be forever present to them1--the need of humane letters to establish a relation between the new conceptions1 and our instinct for beauty1 our instinct for conduct1 is only the more visible4 ,the middle age could do without humane letters1 as it could do without the study of nature1 because its supposed knowledge was made to engage its emotions so powerfully4 ,grant that the supposed knowledge disappears1 its power of being made to engage the emotions will of course disappear along with it1--but the emotions themselves1 and their claim to be engaged and satisfied1 will remain4 ,now if we find by experience that humane letters have an undeniable power of engaging the emotions1 the importance of humane letters in a man's training becomes not less1 but greater1 in proportion to the success of modern science in extirpating what it calls mediaeval thinking4 ,have humane letters1 then1 have poetry and eloquence1 the power here attributed to them of engaging the emotions1 and do they exercise it8 ,and if they have it and exercise it1 how do they exercise it1 so as to exert an influence upon man's sense for conduct1 his sense for beauty8 ,finally1 even if they both can and do exert an influence upon the senses in question1 how are they to relate to them the results1--the modern results1--of natural science8 ,all these questions may be asked4 ,first1 have poetry and eloquence the power of calling out the emotions8 ,the appeal is to experience4 ,experience shows that for the vast majority of men1 for mankind in general1 they have the power4 ,next1 do they exercise it8 ,they do4 ,but then1 how do they exercise it so as to affect man's sense for conduct1 his sense for beauty8 ,and this is perhaps a case for applying the ,preacher's words3 ,though a man labor to seek it out1 yet he shall not find it2 yea1 further1 though a wise man think to know it1 yet shall he not be able to find it4#ba ,why should it be one thing1 in its effect upon the emotions1 to say1 ,patience is a virtue1 and quite another thing1 in its effect upon the emotions1 to say with ,homer1 ,greek3 tlaeton gar ,moirai thumon thesan anthropoisin--#bb for an enduring heart have the destinies appointed to the children of men8 ,why should it be one thing1 in its effect upon the emotions1 to say with philosopher ,spinoza1 ,felicitas in eo consistit quod homo suum esse conservare potest--,man's happiness consists in his being able to preserve his own essence1 and quite another thing1 in its effect upon the emotions1 to say with the ,gospel1 ,what is a man advantaged1 if he gain the whole world1 and lose himself1 forfeit himself8 ,how does this difference of effect arise8 ,i cannot tell1 and ,i am not much concerned to know2 the important thing is that it does arise1 and that we can profit by it4 ,but how1 finally1 are poetry and eloquence to exercise the power of relating the modern results of natural science to man's instinct for conduct1 his instinct for beauty8 ,and here again ,i answer that ,i do not know how they will exercise it1 but that they can and will exercise it ,i am sure4 ,i do not mean that modern philosophical poets and modern philosophical moralists are to come and relate for us1 in express terms1 the results of modern scientific research to our instinct for conduct1 our instinct for beauty4 ,but ,i mean that we shall find1 as a matter of experience1 if we know the best that has been thought and uttered in the world1 we shall find that the art and poetry and eloquence of men who lived1 perhaps1 long ago1 who had the most limited natural knowledge1 who had the most erroneous conceptions about many important matters1 we shall find that this art1 and poetry1 and eloquence1 have in fact not only the power of refreshing and delighting us1 they have also the power1--such is the strength and worth1 in essentials1 of their authors' criticism of life1--they have a fortifying1 and elevating1 and quickening1 and suggestive power1 capable of wonderfully helping us to relate the results of modern science to our need for conduct1 our need for beauty4 ,homer's conceptions of the physical universe were1 ,i imagine1 grotesque2 but really1 under the shock of hearing from modern science that the world is not subordinated to man's use1 and that man is not the cynosure of things terrestrial1 ,i could1 for my own part1 desire no better comfort than ,homer's line which ,i quoted just now1 ,greek3 tlaeton gar ,moirai thumon thesan anthropoisin-- for an enduring heart have the destinies appointed to the children of men6 ,and the more that men's minds are cleared1 the more that the results of science are frankly accepted1 the more that poetry and eloquence come to be received and studied as what in truth they really are1--the criticism of life by gifted men1 alive and active with extraordinary power at an unusual number of points2--so much the more will the value of humane letters1 and of art also1 which is an utterance having a like kind of power with theirs1 be felt and acknowledged1 and their place in education be secured4 ,let us therefore1 all of us1 avoid indeed as much as possible any invidious comparison between the merits of humane letters1 as means of education1 and the merits of the natural sciences4 ,but when some ,president of a ,section for ,mechanical ,science insists on making the comparison1 and tells us that he who in his training has substituted literature and history for natural science has chosen the less useful alternative1 let us make answer to him that the student of humane letters only1 will1 at least1 know also the great general conceptions brought in by modern physical science2 for science1 as ,professor ,huxley says1 forces them upon us all4 ,but the student of the natural sciences only1 will1 by our very hypothesis1 know nothing of humane letters2 not to mention that in setting himself to be perpetually accumulating natural knowledge1 he sets himself to do what only specialists have in general the gift for doing genially4 ,and so he will probably be unsatisfied1 or at any rate incomplete1 and even more incomplete than the student of humane letters only4 ,i once mentioned in a school report1 how a young man in one of our ,english training colleges having to paraphrase the passage in ,macbeth beginning1 ,canst thou not minister to a mind diseased8 turned this line into1 ,can you not wait upon the lunatic8 ,and ,i remarked what a curious state of things it would be1 if every pupil of our national schools knew1 let us say1 that the moon is two thousand one hundred and sixty miles in diameter1 and thought at the same time that a good paraphrase for ,canst thou not minister to a mind diseased8 was1 ,can you not wait upon the lunatic8 ,if one is driven to choose1 ,i think ,i would rather have a young person ignorant about the moon's diameter1 but aware that ,can you not wait upon the lunatic8 is bad1 than a young person whose education had been such as to manage things the other way4 ,or to go higher than the pupils of our national schools4 ,i have in my mind's eye a member of our ,british ,parliament who comes to travel here in ,america1 who afterwards relates his travels1 and who shows a really masterly knowledge of the geology of this great country and of its mining capabilities1 but who ends by gravely suggesting that the ,united ,states should borrow a prince from our ,royal ,family1 and should make him their king1 and should create a ,house of ,lords of great landed proprietors after the pattern of ours2 and then ,america1 he thinks1 would have her future happily and perfectly secured4 ,surely1 in this case1 the ,president of the ,section for ,mechanical ,science would himself hardly say that our member of ,parliament1 by concentrating himself upon geology and mineralogy1 and so on1 and not attending to literature and history1 had chosen the more useful alternative4 ,if then there is to be separation and option between humane letters on the one hand1 and the natural sciences on the other1 the great majority of mankind1 all who have not exceptional and overpowering aptitudes for the study of nature1 would do well1 ,i cannot but think1 to choose to be educated in humane letters rather than in the natural sciences4 ,letters will call out their being at more points1 will make them live more4 ,i said that before ,i ended ,i would just touch on the question of classical education1 and ,i will keep my word4 ,even if literature is to retain a large place in our education1 yet ,latin and ,greek1 say the friends of progress1 will certainly have to go4 ,greek is the grand offender in the eyes of these gentlemen4 ,the attackers of the established course of study think that against ,greek1 at any rate1 they have irresistible arguments4 ,literature may perhaps be needed in education1 they say2 but why on earth should it be ,greek literature8 ,why not ,french or ,german8 ,nay1 has not an ,englishman models in his own literature of every kind of excellence8 ,as before1 it is not on any weak pleadings of my own that ,i rely for convincing the gainsayers2 it is on the constitution of human nature itself1 and on the instinct of self-preservation in humanity4 ,the instinct for beauty is set in human nature1 as surely as the instinct for knowledge is set there1 or the instinct for conduct4 ,if the instinct for beauty is served by ,greek literature and art as it is served by no other literature and art1 we may trust to the instinct of self-preservation in humanity for keeping ,greek as part of our culture4 ,we may trust to it for even making the study of ,greek more prevalent than it is now4 ,greek will come1 ,i hope1 some day to be studied more rationally than at present2 but it will be increasingly studied as men increasingly feel the need in them for beauty1 and how powerfully ,greek art and ,greek literature can serve this need4 ,women will again study ,greek1 as ,lady ,jane ,grey did2 ,i believe that in that chain of forts1 with which the fair host of the ,amazons are now engirdling our ,english universities1--,i find that here in ,america1 in colleges like ,smith ,college in ,massachusetts1 and ,vassar ,college in the ,state of ,new ,york1 and in the happy families of the mixed universities out ,west1--they are studying it already4 ,defuit una mihi symmetria prisca1--,the antique symmetry was the one thing wanting to me1 said ,leonardo da ,vinci2 and he was an ,italian4 ,i will not presume to speak for the ,americans1 but ,i am sure that1 in the ,englishman1 the want of this admirable symmetry of the ,greeks is a thousand times more great and crying than in any ,italian4 ,the results of the want show themselves most glaringly1 perhaps1 in our architecture1 but they show themselves1 also1 in all our art4 ,fit details strictly combined1 in view of a large general result nobly conceived2 that is just the beautiful symmetria prisca of the ,greeks1 and it is just where we ,english fail1 where all our art fails4 ,striking ideas we have1 and well-executed details we have2 but that high symmetry which1 with satisfying and delightful effect1 combines them1 we seldom or never have4 ,the glorious beauty of the ,acropolis at ,athens did not come from single fine things stuck about on that hill1 a statue here1 a gateway there2--no1 it arose from all things being perfectly combined for a supreme total effect4 ,what must not an ,englishman feel about our deficiencies in this respect1 as the sense for beauty1 whereof this symmetry is an essential element1 awakens and strengthens within him6 what will not one day be his respect and desire for ,greece and its symmetria prisca1 when the scales drop from his eyes as he walks the ,london streets1 and he sees such a lesson in meanness as the ,strand1 for instance1 in its true deformity6 ,but here we are coming to our friend ,mr4 ,ruskin's province1 and ,i will not intrude upon it1 for he is its very sufficient guardian4 ,and so we at last find1 it seems1 we find flowing in favor of the humanities the natural and necessary stream of things1 which seemed against them when we started4 ,the hairy quadruped furnished with a tail and pointed ears1 probably arboreal in his habits1 this good fellow carried hidden in his nature1 apparently1 something destined to develop into a necessity for humane letters4 ,nay1 more3 we seem finally to be even led to the further conclusion that our hairy ancestor carried in his nature1 also1 a necessity for ,greek4 ,and therefore1 to say the truth1 ,i cannot really think that humane letters are in much actual danger of being thrust out from their leading place in education1 in spite of the array of authorities against them at this moment4 ,so long as human nature is what it is1 their attractions will remain irresistible4 ,as with ,greek1 so with letters generally3 they will some day come1 we may hope1 to be studied more rationally1 but they will not lose their place4 ,what will happen will rather be that there will be crowded into education other matters besides1 far too many2 there will be1 perhaps1 a period of unsettlement and confusion and false tendency2 but letters will not in the end lose their leading place4 ,if they lose it for a time1 they will get it back again4 ,we shall be brought back to them by our wants and aspirations4 ,and a poor humanist may possess his soul in patience1 neither strive nor cry1 admit the energy and brilliancy of the partisans of physical science1 and their present favor with the public1 to be far greater than his own1 and still have a happy faith that the nature of things works silently on behalf of the studies which he loves1 and that1 while we shall all have to acquaint ourselves with the great results reached by modern science1 and to give ourselves as much training in its disciplines as we can conveniently carry1 yet the majority of men will always require humane letters2 and so much the more1 as they have the more and the greater results of science to relate to the need in man for conduct1 and to the need in him for beauty4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #bj3 ,from ,discourses in ,america1 #ahhe4 ,footnote #ba3 ,from ,ecclesiastes1 viii4 #ag4 ,footnote #bb3 ,from the ,iliad1 xxiv4 #di4 ,,how ,,to ,,read#bc ,,frederic ,,harrison ,it is the fashion for those who have any connection with letters to expatiate on the infinite blessings of literature1 and the miraculous achievements of the press3 to extol1 as a gift above price1 the taste for study and the love of reading4 ,far be it from me to gainsay the inestimable value of good books1 or to discourage any man from reading the best2 but ,i often think that we forget that other side to this glorious view of literature--the misuse of books1 the debilitating waste of brain in aimless1 promiscuous1 vapid reading1 or even1 it may be1 in the poisonous inhalation of mere literary garbage and bad men's worst thoughts4 ,for what can a book be more than the man who wrote it8 ,the brightest genius seldom puts the best of his own soul into his printed page2 and some famous men have certainly put the worst of theirs4 ,yet are all men desirable companions1 much less teachers1 able to give us advice1 even of those who get reputation and command a hearing8 ,to put out of the question that writing which is positively bad1 are we not1 amidst the multiplicity of books and of writers1 in continual danger of being drawn off by what is stimulating rather than solid1 by curiosity after something accidentally notorious1 by what has no intelligible thing to recommend it1 except that it is new8 ,now1 to stuff our minds with what is simply trivial1 simply curious1 or that which at best has but a low nutritive power1 this is to close our minds to what is solid and enlarging1 and spiritually sustaining4 ,whether our neglect of the great books comes from our not reading at all1 or from an incorrigible habit of reading the little books1 it ends in just the same thing4 ,and that thing is ignorance of all the greater literature of the world4 ,to neglect all the abiding parts of knowledge for the sake of the evanescent parts is really to know nothing worth knowing4 ,it is in the end the same1 whether we do not use our minds for serious study at all1 or whether we exhaust them by an impotent voracity for desultory information--a thing as fruitful as whistling4 ,of the two evils ,i prefer the former4 ,at least1 in that case1 the mind is healthy and open4 ,it is not gorged and enfeebled by excess in that which cannot nourish1 much less enlarge and beautify our nature4 ,but there is much more than this4 ,even to those who resolutely avoid the idleness of reading what is trivial1 a difficulty is presented--a difficulty every day increasing by virtue even of our abundance of books4 ,what are the subjects1 what are the class of books we are to read1 in what order1 with what connection1 to what ultimate use or object8 ,even those who are resolved to read the better books are embarrassed by a field of choice practically boundless4 ,the longest life1 the greatest industry1 joined to the most powerful memory1 would not suffice to make us profit from a hundredth part of the world of books before us4 ,if the great ,newton said that he seemed to have been all his life gathering a few shells on the shore1 whilst a boundless ocean of truth still lay beyond and unknown to him1 how much more to each of us must the sea of literature be a pathless immensity beyond our powers of vision or of reach--an immensity in which industry itself is useless without judgment1 method1 discipline2 where it is of infinite importance what we can learn and remember1 and of utterly no importance what we may have once looked at or heard of4 ,alas6 the most of our reading leaves as little mark even in our own education as the foam that gathers round the keel of a passing boat6 ,for myself1 ,i am inclined to think the most useful help to reading is to know what we should not read1 what we can keep out from that small cleared spot in the overgrown jungle of information1 the corner which we can call our ordered patch of fruit-bearing knowledge4 ,the incessant accumulation of fresh books must hinder any real knowledge of the old2 for the multiplicity of volumes becomes a bar upon our use of any4 ,in literature especially does it hold--that we cannot see the wood for the trees4 ,how shall we choose our books8 ,which are the best1 the eternal1 indispensable books8 ,to all to whom reading is something more than a refined idleness these questions recur1 bringing with them the sense of bewilderment2 and a still1 small voice within us is for ever crying out for some guide across the ,slough of ,despond of an illimitable and ever-swelling literature4 ,how many a man stands beside it1 as uncertain of his pathway as the ,pilgrim1 when he who dreamed the immortal dream heard him break out with a lamentable cry2 saying1 what shall ,i do8 ,and this1 which comes home to all of us at times1 presses hardest upon those who have lost the opportunity of systematic education1 who have to educate themselves1 or who seek to guide the education of their young people4 ,systematic reading is but little in favour even amongst studious men2 in a true sense it is hardly possible for women4 ,a comprehensive course of home study1 and a guide to books1 fit for the highest education of women1 is yet a blank page remaining to be filled4 ,generations of men of culture have laboured to organise a system of reading and materials appropriate for the methodical education of men in academic lines4 ,teaching equal in mental calibre to any that is open to men in universities1 yet modified for the needs of those who must study at home1 remains in the dim pages of that melancholy volume entitled ,libri valde desiderati4#bd ,i do not aspire to fill one of those blank pages2 but ,i long to speak a word or two1 as the ,pilgrim did to ,neighbour ,pliable1 upon the glories that await those who will pass through the narrow wicket-gate4 ,on this1 if one can find anything useful to say1 it may be chiefly from the memory of the waste labour and pitiful stumbling in the dark which fill up so much of the travail that one is fain to call one's own education4 ,we who have wandered in the wastes so long1 and lost so much of our lives in our wandering1 may at least offer warnings to younger wayfarers1 as men who in thorny paths have borne the heat and burden of the day might give a clue to their journey to those who have yet a morning and a noon4 ,as ,i look back and think of those cataracts of printed stuff which honest compositors set up1 meaning1 let us trust1 no harm1 and which at least found them in daily bread1--printed stuff which ,i and the rest of us1 to our infinitely small profit1 have consumed with our eyes1 not even making an honest living of it1 but much impairing our substance1--,i could almost reckon the printing press as amongst the scourges of mankind4 ,i am grown a wiser and a sadder man1 importunate1 like that ,ancient ,mariner1 to tell each blithe wedding guest the tale of his shipwreck on the infinite sea of printers' ink1 as one escaped by mercy and grace from the region where there is water1 water1 everywhere1 and not a drop to drink4 ,a man of power1 who has got more from books than most of his contemporaries1 once said3 ,form a habit of reading1 do not mind what you read2 the reading of better books will come when you have a habit of reading the inferior4 ,we need not accept this obiter dictum#be of ,lord ,sherbrooke4 ,a habit of reading idly debilitates and corrupts the mind for all wholesome reading2 the habit of reading wisely is one of the most difficult habits to acquire1 needing strong resolution and infinite pains2 and reading for mere reading's sake1 instead of for the sake of the good we gain from reading1 is one of the worst and commonest and most unwholesome habits we have4 ,and so our inimitable humorist has made delightful fun of the solid books1--which no gentleman's library should be without1--the ,humes1 ,gibbons1 ,adam ,smiths1 which1 he says1 are not books at all1 and prefers some kindhearted play-book1 or at times the ,town and ,county ,magazine4 ,poor ,lamb has not a little to answer for1 in the revived relish for garbage unearthed from old theatrical dungheaps4 ,be it jest or earnest1 ,i have little patience with the ,elia-tic philosophy of the frivolous4 ,why do we still suffer the traditional hypocrisy about the dignity of literature--literature1 ,i mean1 in the gross1 which includes about equal parts of what is useful and what is useless8 ,why are books as books1 writers as writers1 readers as readers1 meritorious1 apart from any good in them1 or anything that we can get from them8 ,why do we pride ourselves on our powers of absorbing print1 as our grandfathers did on their gifts in imbibing port1 when we know that there is a mode of absorbing print which makes it impossible that we can ever learn anything good out of books8 ,our stately ,milton said in a passage which is one of the watchwords of the ,english race1 as good almost kill a ,man as kill a good ,book4 ,but has he not also said that he would have a vigilant eye how ,bookes demeane themselves1 as well as men2 and do sharpest justice on them as malefactors8444 ,yes6 they do kill the good book who deliver up their few and precious hours of reading to the trivial book2 they make it dead for them2 they do what lies in them to destroy the precious life-blood of a master-spirit1 imbalm'd and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life2 they spill that season'd life of man preserv'd and stor'd up in ,bookes4 ,for in the wilderness of books most men1 certainly all busy men1 must strictly choose4 ,if they saturate their minds with the idler books1 the good book1 which ,milton calls an immortality rather than a life1 is dead to them3 it is a book sealed up and buried4 ,it is most right that in the great republic of letters there should be freedom of intercourse and a spirit of equality4 ,every reader who holds a book in his hand is free of the inmost minds of men past and present2 their lives both within and without the pale of their uttered thoughts are unveiled to him2 he needs no introduction to the greatest2 he stands on no ceremony with them2 he may1 if he be so minded1 scribble doggrel on his ,shelley1 or he may kick ,lord ,byron1 if he please1 into a corner4 ,he hears ,burke perorate1 and ,johnson dogmatise1 and ,scott tell his border tales1 and ,wordsworth muse on the hillside1 without the leave of any man1 or the payment of any toll4 ,in the republic of letters there are no privileged orders or places reserved4 ,every man who has written a book1 even the diligent ,mr4 ,whitaker1 is in one sense an author2 a book's a book although there's nothing in't2 and every man who can decipher a penny journal is in one sense a reader4 ,and your general reader1 like the grave-digger in ,hamlet1 is hail-fellow with all the mighty dead2 he pats the skull of the jester2 batters the cheek of lord1 lady1 or courtier2 and uses imperious ,caesar to teach boys the ,latin declensions4 ,but this noble equality of all writers--of all writers and of all readers--has a perilous side to it4 ,it is apt to make us indiscriminate in the books we read1 and somewhat contemptuous of the mighty men of the past4 ,men who are most observant as to the friends they make1 or the conversation they share1 are carelessness itself as to the books to whom they entrust themselves1 and the printed language with which they saturate their minds4 ,yet can any friendship or society be more important to us than that of the books which form so large a part of our minds and even of our characters8 ,do we in real life take any pleasant fellow to our homes and chat with some agreeable rascal by our firesides1 we who will take up any pleasant fellow's printed memoirs1 we who delight in the agreeable rascal when he is cut up into pages and bound in calf8 ,if any person given to reading were honestly to keep a register of all the printed stuff that he or she consumes in a year--all the idle tales of which the very names and the story are forgotten in a week1 the bookmaker's prattle about nothing at so much a sheet1 the fugitive trifling about silly things and empty people1 the memoirs of the unmemorable1 and lives of those who never really lived at all--of what a mountain of rubbish would it be the catalogue3 ,exercises for the eye and the memory1 as mechanical as if we set ourselves to learn the names1 ages1 and family histories of every one who lives in our own street1 the flirtations of their maiden aunts1 and the circumstances surrounding the birth of their grandmother's first baby4 ,it is impossible to give any method to our reading till we get nerve enough to reject4 ,the most exclusive and careful amongst us will 7in literature7 take boon companions out of the street1 as easily as an idler in a tavern4 ,i came across such and such a book that ,i never heard mentioned1 says one1 and found it curious1 though entirely worthless4 ,i strayed on a volume by ,i know not whom1 on a subject for which ,i never cared4 ,and so on4 ,there are curious and worthless creatures enough in any pot-house all day long2 and there is incessant talk in omnibus1 train1 or street by we know not whom1 about we care not what4 ,yet if a printer and a bookseller can be induced to make this gabble as immortal as print and publication can make it1 then it straightway is literature1 and in due time it becomes curious4 ,i have no intention to moralise or to indulge in a homily against the reading of what is deliberately evil4 ,there is not so much need for this now1 and ,i am not discoursing on the whole duty of man4 ,i take that part of our reading which by itself is no doubt harmless1 entertaining1 and even gently instructive4 ,but of this enormous mass of literature how much deserves to be chosen out1 to be preferred to all the great books of the world1 to be set apart for those precious hours which are all that the most of us can give to solid reading8 ,the vast proportion of books are books that we shall never be able to read4 ,a serious percentage of books are not worth reading at all4 ,the really vital books for us we also know to be a very trifling portion of the whole4 ,and yet we act as if every book were as good as any other1 as if it were merely a question of order which we take up first1 as if any book were good enough for us1 and as if all were alike honourable1 precious1 and satisfying4 ,alas6 books cannot be more than the men who write them2 and as a fair proportion of the human race now write books1 with motives and objects as various as human activity1 books1 as books1 are entitled priori1 until their value is proved1 to the same attention and respect as houses1 steam-engines1 pictures1 fiddles1 bonnets1 and other products of human industry4 ,in the shelves of those libraries which are our pride1 libraries public or private1 circulating or very stationary1 are to be found those great books of the world rari nantes in gurgite vasto1#bf those books which are truly the precious life-blood of a master-spirit4 ,but the very familiarity which their mighty fame has bred in us makes us indifferent2 we grow weary of what every one is supposed to have read2 and we take down something which looks a little eccentric1 some worthless book1 on the mere ground that we never heard of it before4 ,thus the difficulties of literature are in their way as great as those of the world1 the obstacles to finding the right friends are as great1 the peril is as great of being lost in a ,babel of voices and an ever-changing mass of beings4 ,books are not wiser than men1 the true books are not easier to find than the true men1 the bad books or the vulgar books are not less obtrusive and not less ubiquitous than the bad or vulgar men are everywhere2 the art of right reading is as long and difficult to learn as the art of right living4 ,those who are on good terms with the first author they meet1 run as much risk as men who surrender their time to the first passer in the street2 for to be open to every book is for the most part to gain as little as possible from any4 ,a man aimlessly wandering about in a crowded city is of all men the most lonely2 so he who takes up only the books that he comes across is pretty certain to meet but few that are worth knowing4 ,now this danger is one to which we are specially exposed in this age4 ,our high-pressure life of emergencies1 our whirling industrial organisation or disorganisation have brought us in this 7as in most things7 their peculiar difficulties and drawbacks4 ,in almost everything vast opportunities and gigantic means of multiplying our products bring with them new perils and troubles which are often at first neglected4 ,our huge cities1 where wealth is piled up and the requirements and appliances of life extended beyond the dreams of our forefathers1 seem to breed in themselves new forms of squalor1 disease1 blights1 or risks to life such as we are yet unable to master4 ,so the enormous multiplicity of modern books is not altogether favourable to the knowing of the best4 ,i listen with mixed satisfaction to the paeans that they chant over the works which issue from the press each day3 how the books poured forth from ,paternoster ,row might in a few years be built into a pyramid that would fill the dome of ,st4 ,paul's4 ,how in this mountain of literature am ,i to find the really useful book8 ,how1 when ,i have found it1 and found its value1 am ,i to get others to read it8 ,how am ,i to keep my head clear in the torrent and din of works1 all of which distract my attention1 most of which promise me something1 whilst so few fulfil that promise8 ,the ,nile is the source of the ,egyptian's bread1 and without it he perishes of hunger4 ,but the ,nile may be rather too liberal in his flood1 and then the ,egyptian runs imminent risk of drowning4 ,and thus there never was a time1 at least during the last two hundred years1 when the difficulties in the way of making an efficient use of books were greater than they are to-day1 when the obstacles were more real between readers and the right books to read1 when it was practically so troublesome to find out that which it is of vital importance to know2 and that not by the dearth1 but by the plethora of printed matter4 ,for it comes to nearly the same thing whether we are actually debarred by physical impossibility1 from getting the right book into our hand1 or whether we are choked off from the right book by the obtrusive crowd of the wrong books2 so that it needs a strong character and a resolute system of reading to keep the head cool in the storm of literature around us4 ,we read nowadays in the market-place--,i would rather say in some large steam factory of letter-press1 where damp sheets of new print whirl round us perpetually--if it be not rather some noisy book-fair where literary showmen tempt us with performing dolls1 and the gongs of rival booths are stunning our ears from morn till night4 ,contrast with this pandemonium of ,leipsic and ,paternoster ,row the sublime picture of our ,milton in his early retirement at ,horton1 when1 musing over his coming flight to the epic heaven1 practising his pinions1 as he tells ,diodati1 he consumed five years of solitude in reading the ancient writers--,et totum rapiunt me1 mea vita1 libri4#bg ,who now reads the ancient writers8 ,who systematically reads the great writers1 be they ancient or modern1 whom the consent of ages has marked out as classics3 typical1 immortal1 peculiar teachers of our race8 ,alas6 the ,paradise ,lost is lost again to us beneath an inundation of graceful academic verse1 sugary stanzas of ladylike prettiness1 and ceaseless explanations in more or less readable prose of what ,john ,milton meant or did not mean1 or what he saw or did not see1 who married his great-aunt1 and why ,adam or ,satan is like that1 or unlike the other4 ,we read a perfect library about the ,paradise ,lost1 but the ,paradise ,lost itself we do not read4 ,i am not presumptuous enough to assert that the larger part of modern literature is not worth reading in itself1 that the prose is not readable1 entertaining1 one may say highly instructive4 ,nor do ,i pretend that the verses which we read so zealously in place of ,milton's are not good verses4 ,on the contrary1 ,i think them sweetly conceived1 as musical and as graceful as the verse of any age in our history4 ,a great deal of our modern literature is such that it is exceedingly difficult to resist it1 and it is undeniable that it gives us real information4 ,it seems perhaps unreasonable to many to assert that a decent readable book which gives us actual instruction can be otherwise than a useful companion and a solid gain4 ,possibly many people are ready to cry out upon me as an obscurantist for venturing to doubt a genial confidence in all literature simply as such4 ,but the question1 which weighs upon me with such really crushing urgency is this3 ,what are the books that in our little remnant of reading time it is most vital for us to know8 ,for the true use of books is of such sacred value to us that to be simply entertained is to cease to be taught1 elevated1 inspired by books2 merely to gather information of a chance kind is to close the mind to knowledge of the urgent kind4 ,every book that we take up without a purpose is an opportunity lost of taking up a book with a purpose--every bit of stray information which we cram into our heads without any sense of its importance1 is for the most part a bit of the most useful information driven out of our heads and choked off from our minds4 ,it is so certain that information1 i4e41 the knowledge1 the stored thoughts and observations of mankind1 is now grown to proportions so utterly incalculable and prodigious1 that even the learned whose lives are given to study can but pick up some crumbs that fall from the table of truth4 ,they delve and tend but a plot in that vast and teeming kingdom1 whilst those whom active life leaves with but a few cramped hours of study can hardly come to know the very vastness of the field before them1 or how infinitesimally small is the corner they can traverse at the best4 ,we know all is not of equal value4 ,we know that books differ in value as much as diamonds differ from the sand on the seashore1 as much as our living friend differs from a dead rat4 ,we know that much in the myriad-peopled world of books--very much in all kinds--is trivial1 enervating1 inane1 even noxious4 ,and thus1 where we have infinite opportunities of wasting our efforts to no end1 of fatiguing our minds without enriching them1 of clogging the spirit without satisfying it1 there1 ,i cannot but think1 the very infinity of opportunities is robbing us of the actual power of using them4 ,and thus ,i come often1 in my less hopeful moods1 to watch the remorseless cataract of daily literature which thunders over the remnants of the past1 as if it were a fresh impediment to the men of our day in the way of systematic knowledge and consistent powers of thought1 as if it were destined one day to overwhelm the great inheritance of mankind in prose and verse4 ,i remember1 when ,i was a very young man at college1 that a youth1 in no spirit of paradox1 but out of plenary conviction1 undertook to maintain before a body of serious students1 the astounding proposition that the invention of printing had been one of the greatest misfortunes that had ever befallen mankind4 ,he argued that exclusive reliance on printed matter had destroyed the higher method of oral teaching1 the dissemination of thought by the spoken word to the attentive ear4 ,he insisted that the formation of a vast literary class looking to the making of books as a means of making money1 rather than as a social duty1 had multiplied books for the sake of the writers rather than for the sake of the readers2 that the reliance on books as a cheap and common resource had done much to weaken the powers of memory2 that it destroyed the craving for a general culture of taste1 and the need of artistic expression in all the surroundings of life4 ,and he argued1 lastly1 that the sudden multiplication of all kinds of printed matter had been fatal to the orderly arrangement of thought1 and had hindered a system of knowledge and a scheme of education4 ,i am far from sharing this immature view4 ,of course ,i hold the invention of printing to have been one of the most momentous facts in the whole history of man4 ,without it universal social progress1 true democratic enlightenment1 and the education of the people would have been impossible1 or very slow1 even if the cultured few1 as is likely1 could have advanced the knowledge of mankind without it4 ,we place ,gutenberg amongst the small list of the unique and special benefactors of mankind1 in the sacred choir of those whose work transformed the conditions of life1 whose work1 once done1 could never be repeated4 ,and no doubt the things which our ardent friend regarded as so fatal a disturbance of society were all inevitable and necessary1 part of the great revolution of mind through which men grew out of the mediaeval incompleteness to a richer conception of life and of the world4 ,yet there is a sense in which this boyish anathema against printing may become true to us by our own fault4 ,we may create for ourselves these very evils4 ,for the art of printing has not been a gift wholly unmixed with evils2 it must be used wisely if it is to be a boon to man at all2 it entails on us heavy responsibilities1 resolution to use it with judgment and self-control1 and the will to resist its temptations and its perils4 ,indeed1 we may easily so act that we may make it a clog on the progress of the human mind1 a real curse and not a boon4 ,the power of flying at will through space would probably extinguish civilisation and society1 for it would release us from the wholesome bondage of place and rest4 ,the power of hearing every word that had ever been uttered on this planet would annihilate thought1 as the power of knowing all recorded facts by the process of turning a handle would annihilate true science4 ,our human faculties and our mental forces are not enlarged simply by multiplying our materials of knowledge and our facilities for communication4 ,telephones1 microphones1 pantoscopes1 steam-presses1 and ubiquity-engines in general may1 after all1 leave the poor human brain panting and throbbing under the strain of its appliances1 no bigger and no stronger than the brains of the men who heard ,moses speak1 and saw ,aristotle and ,archimedes pondering over a few worn rolls of crabbed manuscript4 ,until some new ,gutenberg or ,watt can invent a machine for magnifying the human mind1 every fresh apparatus for multiplying its work is a fresh strain on the mind1 a new realm for it to order and to rule4 ,and so1 ,i say it most confidently1 the first intellectual task of our age is rightly to order and make serviceable the vast realm of printed material which four centuries have swept across our path4 ,to organise our knowledge1 to systematise our reading1 to save1 out of the relentless cataract of ink1 the immortal thoughts of the greatest--this is a necessity1 unless the productive ingenuity of man is to lead us at last to a measureless and pathless chaos4 ,to know anything that turns up is1 in the infinity of knowledge1 to know nothing4 ,to read the first book we come across1 in the wilderness of books1 is to learn nothing4 ,to turn over the pages of ten thousand volumes is to be practically indifferent to all that is good4 ,but this warns me that ,i am entering on a subject which is far too big and solemn4 ,it is plain that to organise our knowledge1 even to systematise our reading1 to make a working selection of books for general study1 really implies a complete scheme of education4 ,a scheme of education ultimately implies a system of philosophy1 a view of man's duty and powers as a moral and social being--a religion4 ,before a problem so great as this1 on which readers have such different ideas and wants1 and differ so profoundly on the very premises from which we start1 before such a problem as a general theory of education1 ,i prefer to pause4 ,i will keep silence even from good words4 ,i have chosen my own part1 and adopted my own teacher4 ,but to ask men to adopt the education of ,auguste ,comte1 is almost to ask them to adopt ,positivism itself4 ,nor will ,i enlarge on the matter for thought1 for foreboding1 almost for despair1 that is presented to us by the fact of our familiar literary ways and our recognised literary profession4 ,that things infinitely trifling in themselves3 men1 events1 societies1 phenomena1 in no way otherwise more valuable than the myriad other things which flit around us like the sparrows on the housetop1 should be glorified1 magnified1 and perpetuated1 set under a literary microscope and focussed in the blaze of a literary magic-lantern--not for what they are in themselves1 but solely to amuse and excite the world by showing how it can be done--all this is to me so amazing1 so heart-breaking1 that ,i forbear now to treat it1 as ,i cannot say all that ,i would4 ,the ,choice of ,books is really the choice of our education1 of a moral and intellectual ideal1 of the whole duty of man4 ,but though ,i shrink from any so high a theme1 a few words are needed to indicate my general point of view in the matter4 ,in the first place1 when we speak about books1 let us avoid the extravagance of expecting too much from books1 the pedant's habit of extolling books as synonymous with education4 ,books are no more education than laws are virtue2 and just as profligacy is easy within the strict limits of law1 a boundless knowledge of books may be found with a narrow education4 ,a man may be1 as the poet saith1 deep vers'd in books1 and shallow in himself4 ,we need to know in order that we may feel rightly and act wisely4 ,the thirst after truth itself may be pushed to a degree where indulgence enfeebles our sympathies and unnerves us in action4 ,of all men perhaps the book-lover needs most to be reminded that man's business here is to know for the sake of living1 not to live for the sake of knowing4 ,a healthy mode of reading would follow the lines of a sound education4 ,and the first canon of a sound education is to make it the instrument to perfect the whole nature and character4 ,its aims are comprehensive1 not special2 they regard life as a whole1 not mental curiosity2 they have to give us1 not so much materials1 as capacities4 ,so that1 however moderate and limited the opportunity for education1 in its way it should be always more or less symmetrical and balanced1 appealing equally in turn to the three grand intellectual elements--imagination1 memory1 reflection3 and so having something to give us in poetry1 in history1 in science1 and in philosophy4 ,and thus our reading will be sadly one-sided1 however voluminous it be1 if it entirely close to us any of the great types and ideals which the creative instinct of man has produced1 if it shut out from us either the ancient world1 or other ,european poetry1 as important almost as our own4 ,when our reading1 however deep1 runs wholly into pockets1 and exhausts itself in the literature of one age1 one country1 one type1 then we may be sure that it is tending to narrow or deform our minds4 ,and the more it leads us into curious byways and nurtures us into indifference for the beaten highways of the world1 the sooner we shall end1 if we be not specialists and students by profession1 in ceasing to treat our books as the companions and solace of our lifetime1 and in using them as the instruments of a refined sort of self-indulgence4 ,a wise education1 and so judicious reading1 should leave no great type of thought1 no dominant phase of human nature1 wholly a blank4 ,whether our reading be great or small1 so far as it goes1 it should be general4 ,if our lives admit of but a short space for reading1 all the more reason that1 so far as may be1 it should remind us of the vast expanse of human thought1 and the wonderful variety of human nature4 ,to read1 and yet so to read that we see nothing but a corner of literature1 the loose fringe1 or flats and wastes of letters1 and by reading only deepen our natural belief that this island is the hub of the universe1 and the nineteenth century the only age worth notice1 all this is really to call in the aid of books to thicken and harden our untaught prejudices4 ,be it imagination1 memory1 or reflection that we address--that is1 in poetry1 history1 science1 or philosophy1 our first duty is to aim at knowing something at least of the best1 at getting some definite idea of the mighty realm whose outer rim we are permitted to approach4 ,but how are we to know the best2 how are we to gain this definite idea of the vast world of letters8 ,there are some who appear to suppose that the best are known only to experts in an esoteric way1 who may reveal to inquirers what schoolboys and betting-men describe as tips4 ,there are no tips in literature2 the best authors are never dark horses2 we need no crammers and coaches to thrust us into the presence of the great writers of all time4 ,crammers will only lead us wrong4 ,it is a thing far easier and more common than many imagine1 to discover the best4 ,it needs no research1 no learning1 and is only misguided by recondite information4 ,the world has long ago closed the great assize of letters and judged the first places everywhere4 ,in such a matter the judgment of the world1 guided and informed by a long succession of accomplished critics1 is almost unerring4 ,when some ,zoilus finds blemishes in ,homer1 and prefers1 it may be1 the work of some ,apollonius of his own discovering1 we only laugh4 ,there may be doubts about the third and fourth rank2 but the first and the second are hardly open to discussion4 ,the gates which lead to the ,elysian fields may slowly wheel back on their adamantine hinges to admit now and then some new and chosen modern4 ,but the company of the masters of those who know1 and in especial degree of the great poets1 is a roll long closed and complete1 and they who are of it hold ever peaceful converse together4 ,hence we may find it a useful maxim that1 if our reading be utterly closed to the great poems of the world1 there is something amiss with our reading4 ,if you find ,milton1 ,dante1 ,calderon1 ,goethe1 so much ,hebrew-,greek to you2 if your ,homer and ,virgil1 your ,molire and ,scott1 rest year after year undisturbed on their shelves beside your school trigonometry and your old college text-books2 if you have never opened the ,cid1 the ,nibelungen1 ,crusoe1 and ,don ,quixote since you were a boy1 and are wont to leave the ,bible and the ,imitation for some wet ,sunday afternoon--know1 friend1 that your reading can do you little real good4 ,your mental digestion is ruined or sadly out of order4 ,no doubt1 to thousands of intelligent educated men who call themselves readers1 the reading through a ,canto of ,the ,purgatorio1 or a ,book of the ,paradise ,lost1 is a task as irksome as it would be to decipher an ill-written manuscript in a language that is almost forgotten4 ,but1 although we are not to be always reading epics1 and are chiefly in the mood for slighter things1 to be absolutely unable to read ,milton or ,dante with enjoyment1 is to be in a very bad way4 ,aristophanes1 ,theocritus1 ,boccaccio1 ,cervantes1 ,molire are often as light as the driven foam2 but they are not light enough for the general reader4 ,their humour is too bright and lovely for the groundlings4 ,they are1 alas6 classics1 somewhat apart from our everyday ways2 they are not banal enough for us2 and so for us they slumber unknown in a long night1 just because they are immortal poets1 and are not scribblers of to-day4 ,when will men understand that the reading of great books is a faculty to be acquired1 not a natural gift1 at least not to those who are spoiled by our current education and habits of life8 ,ceci tuera cela1#bh the last great poet might have said of the first circulating library4 ,an insatiable appetite for new novels makes it as hard to read a masterpiece as it seems to a ,parisian boulevardier to live in a quiet country4 ,until a man can truly enjoy a draft of clear water bubbling from a mountain side1 his taste is in an unwholesome state4 ,and so he who finds the ,heliconian spring insipid should look to the state of his nerves4 ,putting aside the iced air of the difficult mountain tops of epic1 tragedy1 or psalm1 there are some simple pieces which may serve as an unerring test of a healthy or a vicious taste for imaginative work4 ,if the ,cid1 the ,vita ,nuova1 the ,canterbury ,tales1 ,shakespeare's ,sonnets1 and ,lycidas pall on a man2 if he care not for ,malory's ,morte d',arthur and the ,red ,cross ,knight2 if he thinks ,crusoe and the ,vicar books for the young2 if he thrill not with ,the ,ode to the ,west ,wind1 and ,the ,ode to a ,grecian ,urn2 if he have no stomach for ,christabel or the lines written on ,the ,wye above ,tintern ,abbey1 he should fall on his knees and pray for a cleanlier and quieter spirit4 ,the intellectual system of most of us in these days needs to purge and to live cleanly4 ,only by a course of treatment shall we bring our minds to feel at peace with the grand pure works of the world4 ,something we ought all to know of the masterpieces of antiquity1 and of the other nations of ,europe4 ,to understand a great national poet1 such as ,dante1 ,calderon1 ,corneille1 or ,goethe1 is to know other types of human civilisation in ways which a library of histories does not sufficiently teach4 ,the great masterpieces of the world are thus1 quite apart from the charm and solace they give us1 the master instruments of a solid education4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #bc3 ,from ,the ,choice of ,books1 #ahia4 ,printed here by permission of ,the ,macmillan ,company4 ,footnote #bd3 ,books intensely desired4 ,footnote #be3 ,thing said in passing4 ,footnote #bf3 ,floating scattered on the vast abyss4 ,footnote #bg3 ,and here my books--my life--absorb me whole1 ,cowper's translation of ,milton's ,latin ,epistle to ,diodati4 ,footnote #bh3 ,this will destroy that4 ,,on ,,going ,a ,,journey#bi ,,william ,,hazlitt ,one of the pleasantest things in the world is going a journey2 but ,i like to go by myself4 ,i can enjoy society in a room2 but out of doors1 nature is company enough for me4 ,i am then never less alone than when alone4 ,the fields his study1 nature was his book4 ,i cannot see the wit of walking and talking at the same time4 ,when ,i am in the country1 ,i wish to vegetate like the country4 ,i am not for criticising hedge-rows and black cattle4 ,i go out of town in order to forget the town and all that is in it4 ,there are those who for this purpose go to watering-places1 and carry the metropolis with them4 ,i like more elbow-room1 and fewer encumbrances4 ,i like solitude1 when ,i give myself up to it1 for the sake of solitude2 nor do ,i ask for ------a friend in my retreat1 ,whom ,i may whisper solitude is sweet4 ,the soul of a journey is liberty1 perfect liberty1 to think1 feel1 do just as one pleases4 ,we go a journey chiefly to be free of all impediments and of all inconveniences2 to leave ourselves behind1 much more to get rid of others4 ,it is because ,i want a little breathing-space to muse on indifferent matters1 where ,contemplation ,may plume her feathers and let grow her wings1 ,that in the various bustle of resort ,were all too ruffled1 and sometimes impair'd1 that ,i absent myself from the town for a while1 without feeling at a loss the moment ,i am left by myself4 ,instead of a friend in a postchaise or in a ,tilbury1 to exchange good things with1 and vary the same stale topics over again1 for once let me have a truce with impertinence4 ,give me the clear blue sky over my head1 and the green turf beneath my feet1 a winding road before me1 and a three hours' march to dinner--and then to thinking6 ,it is hard if ,i cannot start some game on these lone heaths4 ,i laugh1 ,i run1 ,i leap1 ,i sing for joy4 ,from the point of yonder rolling cloud1 ,i plunge into my past being1 and revel there1 as the sunburnt ,indian plunges headlong into the wave that wafts him to his native shore4 ,then long-forgotten things1 like sunken wrack and sumless treasuries1 burst upon my eager sight1 and ,i begin to feel1 think1 and be myself again4 ,instead of an awkward silence1 broken by attempts at wit or dull commonplaces1 mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is perfect eloquence4 ,no one likes puns1 alliterations1 antitheses1 arguments1 and analysis better than ,i do2 but ,i sometimes had rather be without them4 ,leave1 oh1 leave me to my repose6 ,i have just now other business in hand1 which would seem idle to you1 but is with me very stuff of the conscience4 ,is not this wild rose sweet without a comment8 ,does not this daisy leap to my heart set in its coat of emerald4 ,yet if ,i were to explain to you the circumstance that has so endeared it to me1 you would only smile4 ,had ,i not better then keep it to myself1 and let it serve me to brood over1 from here to yonder craggy point1 and from thence onward to the far-distant horizon8 ,i should be but bad company all that way1 and therefore prefer being alone4 ,i have heard it said that you may1 when the moody fit comes on1 walk or ride on by yourself1 and indulge your reveries4 ,but this looks like a breach of manners1 a neglect of others1 and you are thinking all the time that you ought to rejoin your party4 ,out upon such half-faced fellowship1 say ,i4 ,i like to be either entirely to myself1 or entirely at the disposal of others2 to talk or be silent1 to walk or sit still1 to be sociable or solitary4 ,i was pleased with an observation of ,mr4 ,cobbett's that he thought it a bad ,french custom to drink our wine with our meals1 and that an ,englishman ought to do only one thing at a time4 ,so ,i cannot talk and think1 or indulge in melancholy musing and lively conversation by fits and starts4 ,let me have a companion of my way1 says ,sterne1 were it but to remark how the shadows lengthen as the sun declines4 ,it is beautifully said3 but in my opinion1 this continual comparing of notes interferes with the involuntary impression of things upon the mind1 and hurts the sentiment4 ,if you only hint what you feel in a kind of dumb show1 it is insipid3 if you have to explain it1 it is making a toil of a pleasure4 ,you cannot read the book of nature1 without being perpetually put to the trouble of translating it for the benefit of others4 ,i am for the synthetical method on a journey1 in preference to the analytical4 ,i am content to lay in a stock of ideas then1 and to examine and anatomise them afterwards4 ,i want to see my vague notions float like the down of the thistle before the breeze1 and not to have them entangled in the briars and thorns of controversy4 ,for once1 ,i like to have it all my own way2 and this is impossible unless you are alone1 or in such company as ,i do not covet4 ,i have no objection to argue a point with any one for twenty miles of measured road1 but not for pleasure4 ,if you remark the scent of a beanfield crossing the road1 perhaps your fellow-traveller has no smell4 ,if you point to a distant object1 perhaps he is short-sighted1 and has to take out his glass to look at it4 ,there is a feeling in the air1 a tone in the colour of a cloud which hits your fancy1 but the effect of which you are unable to account for4 ,there is then no sympathy1 but an uneasy craving after it1 and a dissatisfaction which pursues you on the way1 and in the end probably produces ill humour4 ,now ,i never quarrel with myself1 and take all my own conclusions for granted till ,i find it necessary to defend them against objections4 ,it is not merely that you may not be of accord on the objects and circumstances that present themselves before you--these may recall a number of objects1 and lead to associations too delicate and refined to be possibly communicated to others4 ,yet these ,i love to cherish1 and sometimes still fondly clutch them1 when ,i can escape from the throng to do so4 ,to give way to our feelings before company1 seems extravagance or affectation2 and on the other hand1 to have to unravel this mystery of our being at every turn1 and to make others take an equal interest in it 7otherwise the end is not answered7 is a task to which few are competent4 ,we must give it an understanding1 but no tongue4 ,my old friend ,c----1 however1 could do both4 ,he could go on in the most delightful explanatory way over hill and dale1 a summer's day1 and convert a landscape into a didactic poem or a ,pindaric ode4 ,he talked far above singing4 ,if ,i could so clothe my ideas in sounding and flowing words1 ,i might perhaps wish to have some one with me to admire the swelling theme2 or ,i could be more content1 were it possible for me still to hear his echoing voice in the woods of ,all-,foxden4 ,they had that fine madness in them which our first poets had2 and if they could have been caught by some rare instrument1 would have breathed such strains as the following4 ------,here be woods as green ,as any1 air likewise as fresh and sweet ,as when smooth ,zephyrus plays on the fleet ,face of the curled stream1 with flow'rs as many ,as the young spring gives1 and as choice as any2 ,here be all new delights1 cool streams and wells1 ,arbours o'ergrown with woodbine1 caves and dells2 ,choose where thou wilt1 while ,i sit by and sing1 ,or gather rushes to make many a ring ,for thy long fingers2 tell thee tales of love1 ,how the pale ,phoebe1 hunting in a grove1 ,first saw the boy ,endymion1 from whose eyes ,she took eternal fire that never dies2 ,how she convey'd him softly in a sleep1 ,his temples bound with poppy1 to the steep ,head of old ,latmos1 where she stoops each night1 ,gilding the mountain with her brother's light1 ,to kiss her sweetest4------ ,,faithful ,,shepherdess4 ,had ,i words and images at command like these1 ,i would attempt to wake the thoughts that lie slumbering on golden ridges in the evening clouds3 but at the sight of nature my fancy1 poor as it is1 droops and closes up its leaves1 like flowers at sunset4 ,i can make nothing out on the spot3--,i must have time to collect myself4-- ,in general1 a good thing spoils out-of-door prospects3 it should be reserved for ,table-talk4 ,l---- is for this reason1 ,i take it1 the worst company in the world out of doors2 because he is the best within4 ,i grant1 there is one subject on which it is pleasant to talk on a journey2 and that is1 what one shall have for supper when we get to our inn at night4 ,the open air improves this sort of conversation or friendly altercation1 by setting a keener edge on appetite4 ,every mile of the road heightens the flavour of the viands we expect at the end of it4 ,how fine it is to enter some old town1 walled and turreted1 just at the approach of nightfall1 or to come to some straggling village1 with the lights streaming through the surrounding gloom2 and then after inquiring for the best entertainment that the place affords1 to take one's ease at one's inn6 ,these eventful moments in our lives' history are too precious1 too full of solid1 heartfelt happiness to be frittered and dribbled away in imperfect sympathy4 ,i would have them all to myself1 and drain them to the last drop3 they will do to talk of or to write about afterwards4 ,what a delicate speculation it is1 after drinking whole goblets of tea1 ,the cups that cheer1 but not inebriate1 and letting the fumes ascend into the brain1 to sit considering what we shall have for supper--eggs and a rasher1 a rabbit smothered in onions1 or an excellent veal-cutlet6 ,sancho#cj in such a situation once fixed upon cow-heel2 and his choice1 though he could not help it1 is not to be disparaged4 ,then in the intervals of pictured scenery and ,shandean contemplation1 to catch the preparation and the stir in the kitchen--,procul1 ,o procul este profani6#ca ,these hours are sacred to silence and to musing1 to be treasured up in the memory1 and to feed the source of smiling thoughts hereafter4 ,i would not waste them in idle talk2 or if ,i must have the integrity of fancy broken in upon1 ,i would rather it were by a stranger than a friend4 ,a stranger takes his hue and character from the time and place2 he is a part of the furniture and costume of an inn4 ,if he is a ,quaker1 or from the ,west ,riding of ,yorkshire1 so much the better4 ,i do not even try to sympathise with him1 and he breaks no squares4 ,i associate nothing with my travelling companion but present objects and passing events4 ,in his ignorance of me and my affairs1 ,i in a manner forget myself4 ,but a friend reminds one of other things1 rips up old grievances1 and destroys the abstraction of the scene4 ,he comes in ungraciously between us and our imaginary character4 ,something is dropped in the course of conversation that gives a hint of your profession and pursuits2 or from having some one with you that knows the less sublime portions of your history1 it seems that other people do4 ,you are no longer a citizen of the world3 but your unhoused free condition is put into circumscription and confine4 ,the incognito of an inn is one of its striking privileges--lord of one's self1 uncumber'd with a name4 ,oh6 it is great to shake off the trammels of the world and of public opinion--to lose our importunate1 tormenting1 everlasting personal identity in the elements of nature1 and become the creature of the moment1 clear of all ties--to hold to the universe only by a dish of sweet-breads1 and to owe nothing but the score of the evening--and no longer seeking for applause and meeting with contempt1 to be known by no other title than the ,gentleman in the parlour6 ,one may take one's choice of all characters in this romantic state of uncertainty as to one's real pretensions1 and become indefinitely respectable and negatively rightworshipful4 ,we baffle prejudice and disappoint conjecture2 and from being so to others1 begin to be objects of curiosity and wonder even to ourselves4 ,we are no more those hackneyed commonplaces that we appear in the world3 an inn restores us to the level of nature1 and quits scores with society6 ,i have certainly spent some enviable hours at inns--sometimes when ,i have been left entirely to myself1 and have tried to solve some metaphysical problem1 as once at ,witham-common1 where ,i found out the proof that likeness is not a case of the association of ideas--at other times1 when there have been pictures in the room1 as at ,st4 ,neot's 7,i think it was7 where ,i first met with ,gribelin's engravings of the ,cartoons1 into which ,i entered at once1 and at a little inn on the borders of ,wales1 where there happened to be hanging some of ,westall's drawings1 which ,i compared triumphantly 7for a theory that ,i had1 not for the admired artist7 with the figure of a girl who had ferried me over the ,severn1 standing up in the boat between me and the twilight--at other times ,i might mention luxuriating in books1 with a peculiar interest in this way1 as ,i remember sitting up half the night to read ,paul and ,virginia1 which ,i picked up at an inn at ,bridgewater1 after being drenched in the rain all day2 and at the same place ,i got through two volumes of ,madame ,d',arblay's ,camilla4 ,it was on the tenth of ,april1 #agih1 that ,i sat down to a volume of the ,new ,eloise1 at the inn at ,llangollen1 over a bottle of sherry and a cold chicken4 ,the letter ,i chose was that in which ,st4 ,preux describes his feelings as he first caught a glimpse from the heights of the ,jura of the ,pays de ,vaud1 which ,i had brought with me as a bon bouche#cb1 to crown the evening with4 ,it was my birthday1 and ,i had for the first time come from a place in the neighbourhood to visit this delightful spot4 ,the road to ,llangollen turns off between ,chirk and ,wrexham2 and on passing a certain point1 you come all at once upon the valley1 which opens like an amphitheatre1 broad1 barren hills rising in majestic state on either side1 with green upland swells that echo to the bleat of flocks below1 and the river ,dee babbling over its stony bed in the midst of them4 ,the valley at this time glittered green with sunny showers1 and a budding ash-tree dipped its tender branches in the chiding stream4 ,how proud1 how glad ,i was to walk along the high road that overlooks the delicious prospect1 repeating the lines which ,i have just quoted from ,mr4 ,coleridge's poems6 ,but besides the prospect which opened beneath my feet1 another also opened to my inward sight1 a heavenly vision1 on which were written1 in letters large as ,hope could make them1 these four words1 ,,liberty1 ,,genius1 ,,love1 ,,virtue2 which have since faded into the light of common day1 or mock my idle gaze4 ,the beautiful is vanished1 and returns not4 ,still ,i would return some time or other to this enchanted spot2 but ,i would return to it alone4 ,what other self could ,i find to share that influx of thoughts1 of regret1 and delight1 the fragments of which ,i could hardly conjure up to myself1 so much have they been broken and defaced6 ,i could stand on some tall rock1 and overlook the precipice of years that separates me from what ,i then was4 ,i was at that time going shortly to visit the poet whom ,i have above named4 ,where is he now8 ,not only ,i myself have changed2 the world1 which was then new to me1 has become old and incorrigible4 ,yet will ,i turn to thee in thought1 ,o sylvan ,dee1 in joy1 in youth and gladness as thou then wert2 and thou shalt always be to me the river of ,paradise1 where ,i will drink of the waters of life freely6 ,there is hardly any thing that shows the short-sightedness or capriciousness of the imagination more than travelling does4 ,with change of place we change our ideas2 nay1 our opinions and feelings4 ,we can by an effort indeed transport ourselves to old and long-forgotten scenes1 and then the picture of the mind revives again2 but we forget those that we have just left4 ,it seems that we can think but of one place at a time4 ,the canvas of the fancy is but of a certain extent1 and if we paint one set of objects upon it1 they immediately efface every other4 ,we cannot enlarge our conceptions1 we only shift our point of view4 ,the landscape bares its bosom to the enraptured eye1 we take our fill of it1 and seem as if we could form no other image of beauty or grandeur4 ,we pass on1 and think no more of it3 the horizon that shuts it from our sight1 also blots it from our memory like a dream4 ,in travelling through a wild barren country1 ,i can form no idea of a woody and cultivated one4 ,it appears to me that all the world must be barren1 like what ,i see of it4 ,in the country we forget the town1 and in town we despise the country4 ,beyond ,hyde ,park1 says ,sir ,fopling ,flutter1 all is a desert4 ,all that part of the map that we do not see before us is a blank4 ,the world in our conceit of it is not much bigger than a nutshell4 ,it is not one prospect expanded into another1 county joined to county1 kingdom to kingdom1 lands to seas1 making an image voluminous and vast2--the mind can form no larger idea of space than the eye can take in at a single glance4 ,the rest is a name written in a map1 a calculation of arithmetic4 ,for instance1 what is the true signification of that immense mass of territory and population1 known by the name of ,china1 to us8 ,an inch of paste-board on a wooden globe1 of no more account than a ,china orange6 ,things near us are seen of the size of life3 things at a distance are diminished to the size of the understanding4 ,we measure the universe by ourselves1 and even comprehend the texture of our own being only piecemeal4 ,in this way1 however1 we remember an infinity of things and places4 ,the mind is like a mechanical instrument that plays a great variety of tunes1 but it must play them in succession4 ,one idea recalls another1 but it at the same time excludes all others4 ,in trying to renew old recollections1 we cannot as it were unfold the whole web of our existence2 we must pick out the single threads4 ,so in coming to a place where we have formerly lived and with which we have intimate associations1 every one must have found that the feeling grows more vivid the nearer we approach the spot1 from the mere anticipation of the actual impression3 we remember circumstances1 feelings1 persons1 faces1 names1 that we had not thought of for years2 but for the time all the rest of the world is forgotten6 ,to return to the question ,i have quitted above4 ,i have no objection to go to see ruins1 aqueducts1 pictures1 in company with a friend or a party1 but rather the contrary1 for the former reason reversed4 ,they are intelligible matters1 and will bear talking about4 ,the sentiment here is not tacit1 but communicable and overt4 ,salisbury ,plain is barren of criticism1 but ,stonehenge will bear a discussion antiquarian1 picturesque1 and philosophical4 ,in setting out on a party of pleasure1 the first consideration always is where we shall go to2 in taking a solitary ramble1 the question is what we shall meet with by the way4 ,the mind is its own place2 nor are we anxious to arrive at the end of our journey4 ,i can myself do the honours indifferently well to works of art and curiosity4 ,i once took a party to ,oxford with no mean clat--showed them that seat of the ,muses at a distance1 ,with glistering spires and pinnacles adorn'd-- descanted on the learned air that breathes from the grassy quadrangles and stone walls of halls and colleges--was at home in the ,bodleian2 and at ,blenheim quite superseded the powdered ,ciceroni that attended us1 and that pointed1 in vain with his wand to commonplace beauties in matchless pictures4--,as another exception to the above reasoning1 ,i should not feel confident in venturing on a journey in a foreign country without a companion4 ,i should want at intervals to hear the sound of my own language4 ,there is an involuntary antipathy in the mind of an ,englishman to foreign manners and notions that requires the assistance of social sympathy to carry it off4 ,as the distance from home increases1 this relief1 which was at first a luxury1 becomes a passion and an appetite4 ,a person would almost feel stifled to find himself in the deserts of ,arabia without friends and countrymen3 there must be allowed to be something in the view of ,athens or old ,rome that claims the utterance of speech2 and ,i own that the ,pyramids are too mighty for any single contemplation4 ,in such situations1 so opposite to all one's ordinary train of ideas1 one seems a species by one's self1 a limb torn off from society1 unless one can meet with instant fellowship and support4--,yet ,i did not feel this want or craving very pressing once1 when ,i first set my foot on the laughing shores of ,france4 ,calais was peopled with novelty and delight4 ,the confused1 busy murmur of the place was like oil and wine poured into my ears2 nor did the mariners' hymn1 which was sung from the top of an old crazy vessel in the harbour1 as the sun went down1 send an alien sound into my soul4 ,i only breathed the air of general humanity4 ,i walked over the vine-covered hills and gay regions of ,france1 erect and satisfied2 for the image of man was not cast down and chained to the foot of arbitrary thrones3 ,i was at no loss for language1 for that of all the great schools of painting was open to me4 ,the whole is vanished like a shade4 ,pictures1 heroes1 glory1 freedom1 all are fled3 nothing remains but the ,bourbons and the ,french people6--,there is undoubtedly a sensation in travelling into foreign parts that is to be had nowhere else3 but it is more pleasing at the time than lasting4 ,it is too remote from our habitual associations to be a common topic of discourse or reference1 and1 like a dream or another state of existence1 does not piece into our daily modes of life4 ,it is an animated but a momentary hallucination4 ,it demands an effort to exchange our actual for our ideal identity2 and to feel the pulse of our old transports revive very keenly1 we must jump all our present comforts and connections4 ,our romantic and itinerant character is not to be domesticated4 ,dr4 ,johnson remarked how little foreign travel added to the facilities of conversation in those who had been abroad4 ,in fact1 the time we have spent there is both delightful and in one sense instructive2 but it appears to be cut out of our substantial1 downright existence1 and never to join kindly on to it4 ,we are not the same1 but another1 and perhaps more enviable individual1 all the time we are out of our own country4 ,we are lost to ourselves1 as well as our friends4 ,so the poet somewhat quaintly sings1 ,out of my country and myself ,i go4 ,those who wish to forget painful thoughts1 do well to absent themselves for a while from the ties and objects that recall them3 but we can be said only to fulfil our destiny in the place that gave us birth4 ,i should on this account like well enough to spend the whole of my life in travelling abroad1 if ,i could any where borrow another life to spend afterwards at home6 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #bi3 ,from ,table-,talk1 #ahba-b4 ,footnote #cj3 ,sancho ,panza1 a character in ,cervantes' romance1 ,don ,quixote4 ,footnote #ca3 ,aloof1 ,o keep aloof1 ye uninitiated6 ,footnote #cb3 ,a titbit4 ,,the ,,regrets ,,of ,a ,,mountaineer#cc ,,leslie ,,stephen ,i have often felt a sympathy1 which almost rises to the pathetic1 when looking on at a cricket-match or boat-race4 ,something of the emotion with which ,gray regarded the distant spires and antique towers rises within me4 ,it is not1 indeed1 that ,i feel very deeply for the fine ingenuous lads who1 as somebody says1 are about to be degraded into tricky1 selfish ,members of ,parliament4 ,i have seen too much of them4 ,they are very fine animals2 but they are rather too exclusively animal4 ,the soul is apt to be in too embryonic a state within these cases of well-strung bone and muscle4 ,it is impossible for a mere athletic machine1 however finely constructed1 to appeal very deeply to one's finer sentiments4 ,i can scarcely look forward with even an affectation of sorrow for the time when1 if more sophisticated1 it will at least have made a nearer approach to the dignity of an intellectual being4 ,it is not the boys who make me feel a touch of sadness2 their approaching elevation to the dignity of manhood will raise them on the whole in the scale of humanity2 it is the older spectators whose aspect has in it something affecting4 ,the shaky old gentleman1 who played in the days when it was decidedly less dangerous to stand up to bowling than to a cannon-ball1 and who now hobbles about on rheumatic joints1 by the help of a stick2 the corpulent elder1 who rowed when boats had gangways down their middle1 and did not require as delicate a balance as an acrobat's at the top of a living pyramid--these are the persons whom ,i cannot see without an occasional sigh4 ,they are really conscious that they have lost something which they can never regain2 or1 if they momentarily forget it1 it is even more forcibly impressed upon the spectators4 ,to see a respectable old gentleman of sixty1 weighing some fifteen stone1 suddenly forget a third of his weight and two-thirds of his years1 and attempt to caper like a boy1 is indeed a startling phenomenon4 ,to the thoughtless1 it may be simply comic2 but1 without being a ,jaques1 one may contrive also to suck some melancholy out of it4 ,now1 as ,i have never caught a cricket-ball1 and1 on the contrary1 have caught numerous crabs in my life1 the sympathy which ,i feel for these declining athletes is not due to any great personal interest in the matter4 ,but ,i have long anticipated that a similar day would come for me1 when ,i should no longer be able to pursue my favourite sport of mountaineering4 ,some day ,i should find that the ascent of a zigzag was as bad as a performance on the treadmill2 that ,i could not look over a precipice without a swimming in the head2 and that ,i could no more jump a crevasse than the ,thames at ,westminster4 ,none of these things have come to pass4 ,so far as ,i know1 my physical powers are still equal to the ascent of ,mont ,blanc or the ,jungfrau4 ,but ,i am no less effectually debarred--it matters not how--from mountaineering4 ,i wander at the foot of the gigantic ,alps1 and look up longingly to the summits1 which are apparently so near1 and yet know that they are divided from me by an impassable gulf4 ,in some missionary work ,i have read that certain ,south ,sea ,islanders believed in a future paradise where the good should go on eating for ever with insatiable appetites at an inexhaustible banquet4 ,they were to continue their eternal dinner in a house with open wickerwork sides2 and it was to be the punishment of the damned to crawl outside in perpetual hunger and look in through the chinks as little boys look in through the windows of a ,london cookshop4 ,with similar feelings ,i lately watched through a telescope the small black dots1 which were really men1 creeping up the high flanks of ,mont ,blanc or ,monte ,rosa4 ,the eternal snows represented for me the ,elysian fields1 into which entrance was sternly forbidden1 and ,i lingered about the spot with a mixture of pleasure and pain1 in the envious contemplation of my more fortunate companions4 ,i know there are those who will receive these assertions with civil incredulity4 ,some persons assume that every pleasure with which they cannot sympathise is necessarily affectation1 and hold1 as a particular case of that doctrine1 that ,alpine travellers risk their lives merely from fashion or desire of notoriety4 ,others are kind enough to admit that there is something genuine in the passion1 but put it on a level with the passion for climbing greased poles4 ,they think it derogatory to the due dignity of ,mont ,blanc that he should be used as a greased pole1 and assure us that the true pleasures of the ,alps are those which are within reach of the old and the invalids1 who can only creep about villages and along high-roads4 ,i cannot well argue with such detractors from what ,i consider a noble sport4 ,as for the first class1 it is reduced almost to a question of veracity4 ,i say that ,i enjoy being on the top of a mountain1 or1 indeed1 halfway up a mountain2 that climbing is a pleasure to me1 and would be so if no one else climbed and no one ever heard of my climbing4 ,they reply that they don't believe it4 ,no more argument is possible than if ,i were to say that ,i liked eating olives1 and some one asserted that ,i really eat them only out of affectation4 ,my reply would be simply to go on eating olives2 and ,i hope the reply of mountaineers will be to go on climbing ,alps4 ,the other assault is more intelligible4 ,our critics admit that we have a pleasure2 but assert that it is a puerile pleasure--that it leads to an irreverent view of mountain beauty1 and to oversight of that which should really most impress a refined and noble mind4 ,to this ,i shall only make such an indirect reply as may result from a frank confession of my own regrets at giving up the climbing business--perhaps for ever4 ,i am sinking1 so to speak1 from the butterfly to the caterpillar stage1 and1 if the creeping thing is really the highest of the two1 it will appear that there is something in the substance of my lamentations unworthy of an intellectual being4 ,let me try4 ,by way of preface1 however1 ,i admit that mountaineering1 in my sense of the word1 is a sport4 ,it is a sport which1 like fishing or shooting1 brings one into contact with the sublimest aspects of nature2 and1 without setting their enjoyment before one as an ultimate end or aim1 helps one indirectly to absorb and be penetrated by their influence4 ,still it is strictly a sport--as strictly as cricket1 or rowing1 or knurr and spell--and ,i have no wish to place it on a different footing4 ,the game is won when a mountain-top is reached in spite of difficulties2 it is lost when one is forced to retreat2 and1 whether won or lost1 it calls into play a great variety of physical and intellectual energies1 and gives the pleasure which always accompanies an energetic use of our faculties4 ,still it suffers in some degree from this undeniable characteristic1 and especially from the tinge which has consequently been communicated to narratives of mountain adventures4 ,there are two ways which have been appropriated to the description of all sporting exploits4 ,one is to indulge in fine writing about them1 to burst out in sentences which swell to paragraphs1 and in paragraphs which spread over pages2 to plunge into ecstasies about infinite abysses and overpowering splendours1 to compare mountains to archangels lying down in eternal winding-sheets of snow1 and to convert them into allegories about man's highest destinies and aspirations4 ,this is good when it is well done4 ,mr4 ,ruskin has covered the ,matterhorn1 for example1 with a whole web of poetical associations1 in language which1 to a severe taste1 is perhaps a trifle too fine1 though he has done it with an eloquence which his bitterest antagonists must freely acknowledge4 ,yet most humble writers will feel that if they try to imitate ,mr4 ,ruskin's eloquence they will pay the penalty of becoming ridiculous4 ,it is not every one who can with impunity compare ,alps to archangels4 ,tall talk is luckily an object of suspicion to ,englishmen1 and consequently most writers1 and especially those who frankly adopt the sporting view of the mountains1 adopt the opposite scheme3 they affect something like cynicism2 they mix descriptions of scenery with allusions to fleas or to bitter beer2 they shrink with the prevailing dread of ,englishmen from the danger of overstepping the limits of the sublime into its proverbial opposite2 and they humbly try to amuse us because they can't strike us with awe4 ,this1 too1 if ,i may venture to say so1 is good in its way and place2 and it seems rather hard to these luckless writers when people assume that1 because they make jokes on a mountain1 they are necessarily insensible to its awful sublimities4 ,a sense of humour is not incompatible with imaginative sensibility2 and even ,wordsworth might have been an equally powerful prophet of nature if he could sometimes have descended from his stilts4 ,in short1 a man may worship mountains1 and yet have a quiet joke with them when he is wandering all day in their tremendous solitudes4 ,joking1 however1 is1 it must be admitted1 a dangerous habit4 ,i freely avow that1 in my humble contributions to ,alpine literature1 ,i have myself made some very poor and very unseasonable witticisms4 ,i confess my error1 and only wish that ,i had no worse errors to confess4 ,still ,i think that the poor little jokes in which we mountaineers sometimes indulge have been made liable to rather harsh constructions4 ,we are accused1 in downright earnest1 not merely of being flippant1 but of an arrogant contempt for all persons whose legs are not as strong as our own4 ,we are supposed seriously to wrap ourselves in our own conceit1 and to brag intolerably of our exploits4 ,now ,i will not say that no mountaineer ever swaggers3 the quality called by the vulgar bounce is unluckily confined to no profession4 ,certainly ,i have seen a man intolerably vain because he could raise a hundred-weight with his little finger2 and ,i dare say that the champion bill-poster1 whose name is advertised on the walls of this metropolis1 thinks excellence in bill-posting the highest virtue of a citizen4 ,so some men may be silly enough to brag in all seriousness about mountain exploits4 ,however1 most lads of twenty learn that it is silly to give themselves airs about mere muscular eminence2 and especially is this true of ,alpine exploits--first1 because they require less physical prowess than almost any other sport1 and secondly1 because a good amateur still feels himself the hopeless inferior of half the ,alpine peasants whom he sees4 ,you cannot be very conceited about a game in which the first clodhopper you meet can give you ten minutes' start in an hour4 ,still a man writing in a humorous vein naturally adopts a certain bumptious tone1 just as our friend ,punch ostentatiously declares himself to be omniscient and infallible4 ,nobody takes him at his word1 or supposes that the editor of ,punch is really the most conceited man in all ,england4 ,but we poor mountaineers are occasionally fixed with our own careless talk by some outsider who is not in the secret4 ,we know ourselves to be a small sect1 and to be often laughed at2 we reply by3 assuming that we are the salt of the earth1 and that our amusement is the first and noblest of all amusements4 ,our only retort to the good-humoured ridicule with which we are occasionally treated is to adopt an affected strut1 and to carry it off as if we were the finest fellows in the world4 ,we make a boast of our shame1 and say1 if you laugh we must crow4 ,but we don't really mean anything3 if we did1 the only word which the ,english language would afford wherewith to describe us would be the very unpleasant antithesis to wise men1 and certainly ,i hold that we have the average amount of common sense4 ,when1 therefore1 ,i see us taken to task for swaggering1 ,i think it a trifle hard that this merely playful affectation of superiority should be made a serious fault4 ,for the future ,i would promise to be careful1 if it were worth avoiding the misunderstanding of men who won't take a joke4 ,meanwhile1 ,i can only state that when ,alpine travellers indulge in a little swagger about their own performances and other people's incapacity1 they don't mean more than an infinitesimal fraction of what they say1 and that they know perfectly well that when history comes to pronounce a final judgment upon the men of the time1 it won't put mountain-climbing on a level with patriotism1 or even with excellence in the fine arts4 ,the reproach of real bon fide arrogance is1 so far as ,i know1 very little true of ,alpine travellers4 ,with the exception of the necessary fringe hanging on to every set of human beings--consisting of persons whose heads are weaker than their legs--the mountaineer1 so far as my experience has gone1 is generally modest enough4 ,perhaps he sometimes flaunts his ice-axes and ropes a little too much before the public eye at ,chamonix1 as a yachtsman occasionally flourishes his nautical costume at ,cowes2 but the fault may be pardoned by those not inexorable to human weaknesses4 ,this opinion1 ,i know1 cuts at the root of the most popular theory as to our ruling passion4 ,if we do not climb the ,alps to gain notoriety1 for what purpose can we possibly climb them8 ,that same unlucky trick of joking is taken to indicate that we don't care much about the scenery2 for who1 with a really susceptible soul1 could be facetious under the cliffs of ,jungfrau or the ghastly precipices of the ,matterhorn8 ,hence people who kindly excuse us from the blame of notoriety-hunting generally accept the greased-pole theory4 ,we are1 it seems1 overgrown schoolboys1 who1 like other schoolboys1 enjoy being in dirt1 and danger1 and mischief1 and have as much sensibility for natural beauty as the mountain mules4 ,and against this1 as a more serious complaint1 ,i wish to make my feeble protest1 in order that my lamentations on quitting the profession may not seem unworthy of a thinking being4 ,let me try to recall some of the impressions which mountaineering has left with me1 and see whether they throw any light upon the subject4 ,as ,i gaze at the huge cliffs where ,i may no longer wander1 ,i find innumerable recollections arise--some of them dim1 as though belonging to a past existence2 and some so brilliant that ,i can scarcely realise my exclusion from the scenes to which they belong4 ,i am standing at the foot of what1 to my mind1 is the most glorious of all ,alpine wonders--the huge ,oberland precipice1 on the slopes of the ,faulhorn or the ,wengern ,alp4 ,innumerable tourists have done all that tourists can do to cocknify 7if that is the right derivative from cockney7 the scenery2 but1 like the ,pyramids or a ,gothic cathedral1 it throws off the taint of vulgarity by its imperishable majesty4 ,even on turf strewn with sandwich-papers and empty bottles1 even in the presence of hideous peasant-women singing ,stand-er auf for five centimes1 we cannot but feel the influence of ,alpine beauty4 ,when the sunlight is dying off the snows1 or the full moon lighting them up with ethereal tints1 even sandwich-papers and singing women may be forgotten4 ,how does the memory of scrambles along snow artes1 of plunges--luckily not too deep--into crevasses1 of toil through long snowfields1 towards a refuge that seemed to recede as we advanced--where1 to quote ,tennyson with due alteration1 to the traveller toiling in immeasurable snow-- ,sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill ,the chlet sparkles like a grain of salt2-- how do such memories as these harmonise with the sense of superlative sublimity8 ,one element of mountain beauty is1 we shall all admit1 their vast size and steepness4 ,that a mountain is very big1 and is faced by perpendicular walls of rock1 is the first thing which strikes everybody1 and is the whole essence and outcome of a vast quantity of poetical description4 ,hence the first condition towards a due appreciation of mountain scenery is that these qualities should be impressed upon the imagination4 ,the mere dry statement that a mountain is so many feet in vertical height above the sea1 and contains so many tons of granite1 is nothing4 ,mont ,blanc1 is about three miles high4 ,what of that8 ,three miles is an hour's walk for a lady--an eighteen-penny cab-fare--the distance from ,hyde ,park ,corner to the ,bank--an express train could do it in three minutes1 or a racehorse in five4 ,it is a measure which we have learnt to despise1 looking at it from a horizontal point of view2 and accordingly most persons1 on seeing the ,alps for the first time1 guess them to be higher1 as measured in feet1 than they really are4 ,what1 indeed1 is the use of giving measures in feet to any but the scientific mind8 ,who cares whether the moon is #bej1jjj or #b1ejj1jjj miles distant8 ,mathematicians try to impress upon us that the distance of the fixed stars is only expressible by a row of figures which stretches across a page2 suppose it stretched across two or across a dozen pages1 should we be any the wiser1 or have1 in the least degree1 a clearer notion of the superlative distances8 ,we civilly say1 ,dear me6 when the astronomer looks to us for the appropriate stare1 but we only say it with the mouth2 internally our remark is1 ,you might as well have multiplied by a few more millions whilst you were about it4 ,even astronomers1 though not a specially imaginative race1 feel the impotence of figures1 and try to give us some measure which the mind can grasp a little more conveniently4 ,they tell us about the cannon-ball which might have been flying ever since the time of ,adam1 and not yet have reached the heavenly body1 or about the stars which may not yet have become visible1 though the light has been flying to us at a rate inconceivable by the mind for an inconceivable number of years2 and they succeed in producing a bewildering and giddy sensation1 although the numbers are too vast to admit of any accurate apprehension4 ,we feel a similar need in the case of mountains4 ,besides the bare statement of figures1 it is necessary to have some means for grasping the meaning of the figures4 ,the bare tens and thousands must be clothed with some concrete images4 ,the statement that a mountain is #ae1jjj feet high is1 by itself1 little more impressive1 than that it is #c1jjj2 we want something more before we can mentally compare ,mont ,blanc and ,snowdon4 ,indeed1 the same people who guess of a mountain's height at a number of feet much exceeding the reality1 show1 when they are cross-examined1 that they fail to appreciate in any tolerable degree the real meaning of the figures4 ,an old lady one day1 about #aa ,a4,m41 proposed to walk from the ,aeggischhorn to the ,jungfrau-,joch1 and to return for luncheon--the distance being a good twelve hours' journey for trained mountaineers4 ,every detail of which the huge mass is composed is certain to be underestimated4 ,a gentleman the other day pointed out to me a grand ice-cliff at the end of a hanging glacier1 which must have been at least #ajj feet high1 and asked me whether that snow was three feet deep4 ,nothing is more common than for tourists to mistake some huge pinnacle of rock1 as big as a church tower1 for a traveller4 ,the rocks of the ,grands ,mulets1 in one corner of which the chlet is hidden1 are often identified with a party ascending ,mont ,blanc2 and ,i have seen boulders as big as a house pointed out confidently as chamois4 ,people who make these blunders must evidently see the mountains as mere toys1 however many feet they may give them at a random guess4 ,huge overhanging cliffs are to them steps within the reach of human legs2 yawning crevasses are ditches to be jumped2 and foaming waterfalls are like streams from penny squirts4 ,everyone knows the avalanches on the ,jungfrau1 and the curiously disproportionate appearance of the little puffs of white smoke1 which are said to be the cause of the thunder2 but the disproportion ceases to an eye that has learnt really to measure distance1 and to know that these smoke-puffs1 represent a cataract of crashing blocks of ice4 ,now the first merit of mountaineering is that it enables one to have what theologians would call an experimental faith in the size of mountains--to substitute a real living belief for a dead intellectual assent4 ,it enables one1 first1 to assign something like its true magnitude to a rock or snow-slope2 and1 secondly1 to measure that magnitude in terms of muscular exertion instead of bare mathematical units4 ,suppose that we are standing upon the ,wengern ,alp2 between the ,mnch and the ,eiger there stretches a round white bank1 with a curved outline1 which we may roughly compare to the back of one of ,sir ,e4 ,landseer's lions4 ,the ordinary tourists--the old man1 the woman1 or the cripple1 who are supposed to appreciate the real beauties of ,alpine scenery--may look at it comfortably from their hotel4 ,they may see its graceful curve1 the long straight lines that are ruled in delicate shading down its sides1 and the contrast of the blinding white snow with the dark blue sky above2 but they will probably guess it to be a mere bank--a snowdrift1 perhaps1 which has been piled by the last storm4 ,if you pointed out to them one of the great rocky teeth that projected from its summit1 and said that it was a guide1 they would probably remark that he looked very small1 and would fancy that he could jump over the bank with an effort4 ,now a mountaineer knows1 to begin with1 that it is a massive rocky rib1 covered with snow1 lying at a sharp angle1 and varying perhaps from #ejj to #a1jjj feet in height4 ,so far he might be accompanied by men of less soaring ambition2 by an engineer who had been mapping the country1 or an artist who had been carefully observing the mountains from their bases4 ,they might learn in time to interpret correctly the real meaning of shapes at which the uninitiated guess at random4 ,but the mountaineer can go a step further1 and it is the next step which gives the real significance to those delicate curves and lines4 ,he can translate the #ejj or #a1jjj feet of snow-slope into a more tangible unit of measurement4 ,to him1 perhaps1 they recall the memory of a toilsome ascent1 the sun beating on his head for five or six hours1 the snow returning the glare with still more parching effect2 a stalwart guide toiling all the weary time1 cutting steps in hard blue ice1 the fragments hissing and spinning down the long straight grooves in the frozen snow till they lost themselves in the yawning chasm below2 and step after step taken along the slippery staircase1 till at length he triumphantly sprang upon the summit of the tremendous wall that no human foot had scaled before4 ,the little black knobs that rise above the edge represent for him huge impassable rocks1 sinking on one side in scarped slippery surfaces towards the snow-field1 and on the other stooping in one tremendous cliff to a distorted glacier thousands of feet below4 ,the faint blue line across the upper nv1 scarcely distinguishable to the eye1 represents to one observer nothing but a trifling undulation2 a second1 perhaps1 knows that it means a crevasse2 the mountaineer remembers that it is the top of a huge chasm1 thirty feet across1 and perhaps ten times as deep1 with perpendicular sides of glimmering blue ice1 and fringed by thick rows of enormous pendent icicles4 ,the marks that are scored in delicate lines1 such as might be ruled by a diamond on glass1 have been cut by innumerable streams trickling in hot weather from the everlasting snow1 or ploughed by succeeding avalanches that have slipped from the huge upper snowfields above4 ,in short1 there is no insignificant line or mark that has not its memory or its indication of the strange phenomena of the upper world4 ,true1 the same picture is painted upon the retina of all classes of observers2 and so ,porson and a schoolboy and a peasant might receive the same physical impression from a set of black and white marks on the page of a ,greek play2 but to one they would be an incoherent conglomeration of unmeaning and capricious lines1 to another they would represent certain sounds more or less corresponding to some ,english words2 whilst to the scholar they would reveal some of the noblest poetry in the world1 and all the associations of successful intellectual labour4 ,i do not say that the difference is quite so great in the case of the mountains2 still ,i am certain that no one can decipher the natural writing on the face of a snow-slope or a precipice who has not wandered amongst their recesses1 and learnt by slow experience what is indicated by marks which an ignorant observer would scarcely notice4 ,true1 even one who sees a mountain for the first time may know that1 as a matter of fact1 a scar on the face of a cliff means1 for example1 a recent fall of a rock2 but between the bare knowledge and the acquaintance with all which that knowledge implies--the thunder of the fall1 the crash of the smaller fragments1 the bounding energy of the descending mass--there is almost as much difference as between hearing that a battle has been fought and being present at it yourself4 ,we have all read descriptions of ,waterloo till we are sick of the subject2 but ,i imagine that our emotions on seeing the shattered well of ,hougomont are very inferior to those of one of the ,guard who should revisit the place where he held out for a long day against the assaults of the ,french army4 ,now to an old mountaineer the ,oberland cliffs are full of memories2 and1 more than this1 he has learnt the language spoken by every crag and every wave of glacier4 ,it is strange if they do not affect him rather more powerfully than the casual visitor who has never been initiated by practical experience into their difficulties4 ,to him1 the huge buttress which runs down from the ,mnch is something more than an irregular pyramid1 purple with white patches at the bottom and pure white at the top4 ,he fills up the bare outline supplied by the senses with a thousand lively images4 ,he sees tier above tier of rock1 rising in a gradually ascending scale of difficulty1 covered at first by long lines of the dbris that have been splintered by frost from the higher wall1 and afterwards rising bare and black and threatening4 ,he knows instinctively which of the ledges has a dangerous look--where such a bold mountaineer as ,john ,lauener might slip on the polished surface1 or be in danger of an avalanche from above4 ,he sees the little shell-like swelling at the foot of the glacier crawling down the steep slope above1 and knows that it means an almost inaccessible wall of ice2 and the steep snowfields that rise towards the summit are suggestive of something very different from the picture which might have existed in the mind of a ,german student1 who once asked me whether it was possible to make the ascent on a mule4 ,hence1 if mountains owe their influence upon the imagination in a great degree to their size and steepness1 and apparent inaccessibility--as no one can doubt that they do1 whatever may be the explanation of the fact that people like to look at big1 steep1 inaccessible objects--the advantages of the mountaineer are obvious4 ,he can measure those qualities on a very different scale from the ordinary traveler4 ,he measures the size1 not by the vague abstract term of so many thousand feet1 but by the hours of labour1 divided into minutes--each separately felt--of strenuous muscular exertion4 ,the steepness is not expressed in degrees1 but by the memory of the sensation produced when a snow-slope seems to be rising up and smiting you in the face2 when1 far away from all human help1 you are clinging like a fly to the slippery side of a mighty pinnacle in mid air4 ,and as for the inaccessibility1 no one can measure the difficulty of climbing a hill who has not wearied his muscles and brain in struggling against the opposing obstacles4 ,alpine travellers1 it is said1 have removed the romance from the mountains by climbing them4 ,what they have really done is to prove that there exists a narrow line by which a way may be found to the top of any given mountain2 but the clue leads through innumerable inaccessibilities2 true1 you can follow one path1 but to right and left are cliffs which no human foot will ever tread1 and whose terrors can only be realised when you are in their immediate neighbourhood4 ,the cliffs of the ,matterhorn do not bar the way to the top effectually1 but it is only by forcing a passage through them that you can really appreciate their terrible significance4 ,hence ,i say that the qualities which strike every sensitive observer are impressed upon the mountaineer with tenfold force and intensity4 ,if he is as accessible to poetical influences as his neighbours--and ,i don't know why he should be less so--he has opened new avenues of access between the scenery and his mind4 ,he has learnt a language which is but partially revealed to ordinary men4 ,an artist is superior to an unlearned picture-seer1 not merely because he has greater natural sensibility1 but because he has improved it by methodical experience2 because his senses have been sharpened by constant practice1 till he can catch finer shades of colouring1 and more delicate inflexions of line2 because1 also1 the lines and colours have acquired new significance1 and been associated with a thousand thoughts with which the mass of mankind has never cared to connect them4 ,the mountaineer is improved by a similar process4 ,but ,i know some sceptical critics will ask1 does not the way in which he is accustomed to regard mountains rather deaden their poetical influence8 ,doesn't he come to look at them as mere instruments of sport1 and overlook their more spiritual teaching8 ,does not all the excitement of personal adventure and the noisy apparatus of guides1 and ropes1 and axes1 and tobacco1 and the fun of climbing1 rather dull his perceptions and incapacitate him from perceiving ,the silence that is in the starry sky1 ,the sleep that is among the lonely hills8 ,well1 ,i have known some stupid and unpoetical mountaineers2 and1 since ,i have been dismounted from my favourite hobby1 ,i think ,i have met some similar specimens among the humbler class of tourists4 ,there are persons1 ,i fancy1 who do the ,alps2 who look upon the ,lake of ,lucerne as one more task ticked off from their memorandum book1 and count up the list of summits visible from the ,grnergrat without being penetrated with any keen sense of sublimity4 ,and there are mountaineers who are capable of making a pun on the top of ,mont ,blanc--and capable of nothing more4 ,still ,i venture to deny that even punning is incompatible with poetry1 or that those who make the pun can have no deeper feeling in their bosoms which they are perhaps too shamefaced to utter4 ,the fact is that that which gives its inexpressible charm to mountaineering is the incessant series of exquisite natural scenes1 which are for the most part enjoyed by the mountaineer alone4 ,this is1 ,i am aware1 a round assertion2 but ,i will try to support it by a few of the visions which are recalled to me by these ,oberland cliffs1 and which ,i have seen profoundly enjoyed by men who perhaps never mentioned them again1 and probably in describing their adventures scrupulously avoided the danger of being sentimental4 ,thus every traveller has occasionally done a sunrise1 and a more lamentable proceeding than the ordinary view of a sunrise can hardly be imagined4 ,you are cold1 miserable1 breakfastless2 have risen shivering from a warm bed1 and in your heart long only to creep into bed again4 ,to the mountaineer all this is changed4 ,he is beginning a day full of the anticipation of a pleasant excitement4 ,he has1 perhaps1 been waiting anxiously for fine weather1 to try conclusions with some huge giant not yet scaled4 ,he moves out with something of the feeling with which a soldier goes to the assault of a fortress1 but without the same probability of coming home in fragments2 the danger is trifling enough to be merely exhilatory1 and to give a pleasant tension to the nerves2 his muscles feel firm and springy1 and his stomach--no small advantage to the enjoyment of scenery--is in excellent order4 ,he looks at the sparkling stars with keen satisfaction1 prepared to enjoy a fine sunrise with all his faculties at their best1 and with the added pleasure of a good omen for his day's work4 ,then a huge dark mass begins to mould itself slowly out of the darkness1 the sky begins to form a background of deep purple1 against which the outline becomes gradually more definite2 one by one1 the peaks catch the exquisite ,alpine glow1 lighting up in rapid succession1 like a vast illumination2 and when at last the steady sunlight settles upon them1 and shows every rock and glacier1 without even a delicate film of mist to obscure them1 he feels his heart bound1 and steps out gaily to the assault--just as the people on the ,rigi are giving thanks that the show is over and that they may go to bed4 ,still grander is the sight when the mountaineer has already reached some lofty ridge1 and1 as the sun rises1 stands between the day and the night--the valley still in deep sleep1 with the mists lying between the folds of the hills1 and the snow-peaks standing out clear and pale white just before the sun reaches them1 whilst a broad band of orange light runs all round the vast horizon4 ,the glory of sunsets is equally increased in the thin upper air4 ,the grandest of all such sights that live in my memory is that of a sunset from the ,aiguille du ,got4 ,the snow at our feet was glowing with rich light1 and the shadows in our footsteps a vivid green by the contrast4 ,beneath us was a vast horizontal floor of thin level mists suspended in mid air1 spread like a canopy over the whole boundless landscape1 and tinged with every hue of sunset4 ,through its rents and gaps we could see the lower mountains1 the distant plains1 and a fragment of the ,lake of ,geneva lying in a more sober purple4 ,above us rose the solemn mass of ,mont ,blanc in the richest glow of an ,alpine sunset4 ,the sense of lonely sublimity was almost oppressive1 and although half our party was suffering from sickness1 ,i believe even the guides were moved to a sense of solemn beauty4 ,these grand scenic effects are occasionally seen by ordinary travellers1 though the ordinary traveller is for the most part out of temper at #c ,a4,m4 ,the mountaineer can enjoy them1 both because his frame of mind is properly trained to receive the natural beauty1 and because he alone sees them with their best accessories1 amidst the silence of the eternal snow1 and the vast panoramas visible from the loftier summits4 ,and he has a similar advantage in most of the great natural phenomena of the cloud and the sunshine4 ,no sight in the ,alps is more impressive than the huge rocks of a black precipice suddenly frowning out through the chasms of a storm-cloud4 ,but grand as such a sight may be from the safe verandahs of the inn at ,grindelwald1 it is far grander in the silence of the ,central ,alps amongst the savage wilderness of rock and snow4 ,another characteristic effect of the ,high ,alps often presents itself when one has been climbing for two or three hours1 with nothing in sight but the varying wreaths of mist that chased each other monotonously along the rocky ribs up whose snow-covered backbone we were laboriously fighting our way4 ,suddenly there is a puff of wind1 and looking round we find that we have in an instant pierced the clouds1 and emerged1 as it were1 on the surface of the ocean of vapour4 ,beneath us stretches for hundreds of miles the level fleecy floor1 and above us shines out clear in the eternal sunshine every mountain1 from ,mont ,blanc to ,monte ,rosa and the ,jungfrau4 ,what1 again1 in the lower regions1 can equal the mysterious charm of gazing from the edge of a torn rocky parapet into an apparently fathomless abyss1 where nothing but what an ,alpine traveller calls a strange formless wreathing of vapour indicates the storm-wind that is raging below us8 ,i might go on indefinitely recalling the strangely impressive scenes that frequently startle the traveller in the waste upper world2 but language is feeble indeed to convey even a glimmering of what is to be seen to those who have not seen it for themselves1 whilst to them it can be little more than a peg upon which to hang their own recollections4 ,these glories1 in which the mountain ,spirit reveals himself to his true worshippers1 are only to be gained by the appropriate service of climbing--at some risk1 though a very trifling risk1 if he is approached with due form and ceremony--into the furthest recesses of his shrines4 ,and without seeing them1 ,i maintain that no man has really seen the ,alps4 ,the difference between the exoteric and the esoteric school of mountaineers may be indicated by their different view of glaciers4 ,at ,grindelwald1 for example1 it is the fashion to go and see the glaciers--heaven save the mark6 ,ladies in costumes1 heavy ,german professors1 ,americans doing the ,alps at a gallop1 ,cook's tourists1 and other varieties of a well-known genus1 go off in shoals and see--what8 ,a gigantic mass of ice1 strangely torn with a few of the exquisite blue crevasses1 but denied and prostrate in dirt and ruins4 ,a stream foul with mud oozes out from the base2 the whole mass seems to be melting fast away2 the summer sun has evidently got the best of it in these lower regions1 and nothing can resist him but the great mounds of decaying rock that strew the surface in confused lumps4 ,it is as much like the glacier of the upper regions as the melting fragments of snow in a ,london street are like the surface of the fresh snow that has just fallen in a country field4 ,and by way of improving its attractions a perpetual picnic is going on1 and the ingenious natives have hewed a tunnel into the ice1 for admission to which they charge certain centimes4 ,the unlucky glacier reminds me at his latter end of a wretched whale stranded on a beach1 dissolving into masses of blubber1 and hacked by remorseless fishermen1 instead of plunging at his ease in the deep blue water4 ,far above1 where the glacier begins his course1 he is seen only by the true mountaineer4 ,there are vast amphitheatres of pure snow1 of which the glacier known to tourists is merely the insignificant drainage1 but whose very existence they do not generally suspect4 ,they are utterly ignorant that from the top of the icefall which they visit you may walk for hours on the eternal ice4 ,after a long climb you come to the region where the glacier is truly at its noblest2 where the surface is a spotless white2 where the crevasses are enormous rents sinking to profound depths1 with walls of the purest blue2 where the glacier is torn and shattered by the energetic forces which mould it1 but has an expression of superabundant power1 like a full stream fretting against its banks and plunging through the vast gorges that it has hewn for itself in the course of centuries4 ,the bases of the mountains are immersed in a deluge of cockneyism--fortunately a shallow deluge--whilst their summits rise high into the bracing air1 where everything is pure and poetical4 ,the difference which ,i have thus endeavoured to indicate is more or less traceable in a wider sense4 ,the mountains are exquisitely beautiful1 indeed1 from whatever points of view we contemplate them2 and the mountaineer would lose much if he never saw the beauties of the lower valleys1 of pasturages deep in flowers1 and dark pine-forests with the summits shining from far off between the stems4 ,only1 as it seems to me1 he has the exclusive prerogative of thoroughly enjoying one--and that the most characteristic1 though by no means only1 element of the scenery4 ,there may be a very good dinner spread before twenty people2 but if nineteen of them were teetotalers1 and the twentieth drank his wine like a man1 he would be the only one to do it full justice2 the others might praise the meat or the fruits1 but he would alone enjoy the champagne2 and in the great feast which ,nature spreads before us 7a stock metaphor1 which emboldens me to make the comparison71 the high mountain scenery acts the part of the champagne4 ,unluckily1 too1 the teetotalers are very apt1 in this case also1 to sit in judgment upon their more adventurous neighbours4 ,especially are they pleased to carp at the views from high summits4 ,i have been constantly asked1 with a covert sneer1 ,did it repay you8--a question which involves the assumption that one wants to be repaid1 as though the labour were not itself part of the pleasure1 and which implies a doubt that the view is really enjoyable4 ,people are always demonstrating that the lower views are the most beautiful2 and at the same time complaining that mountaineers frequently turn back without looking at the view from the top1 as though that would necessarily imply that they cared nothing for scenery4 ,in opposition to which ,i must first remark that1 as a rule1 every step of an ascent has a beauty of its own1 which one is quietly absorbing even when one is not directly making it a subject of contemplation1 and that the view from the top is generally the crowning glory of the whole4 ,it will be enough if ,i conclude with an attempt to illustrate this last assertion3 and ,i will do it by still referring to the ,oberland4 ,every visitor with a soul for the beautiful admires the noble form of the ,wetterhorn--the lofty snow-crowned pyramid rising in such light and yet massive lines from its huge basement of perpendicular cliffs4 ,the ,wetterhorn has1 however1 a further merit4 ,to my mind--and ,i believe most connoisseurs of mountain tops agree with me--it is one of the most impressive summits in the ,alps4 ,it is not a sharp pinnacle like the ,weisshorn1 or a cupola like ,mont ,blanc1 or a grand rocky tooth like the ,monte ,rosa1 but a long and nearly horizontal knife-edge1 which1 as seen from either end1 has of course the appearance of a sharp-pointed cone4 ,it is when balanced upon this ridge--sitting astride of the knife-edge on which one can hardly stand without giddiness--that one fully appreciates an ,alpine precipice4 ,mr4 ,justice ,wills has admirably described the first ascent1 and the impression it made upon him1 in a paper which has become classical for succeeding adventurers4 ,behind you the snow-slope sinks with perilous steepness towards the wilderness of glacier and rock through which the ascent has lain4 ,but in front the ice sinks with even greater steepness for a few feet or yards4 ,then it curves over and disappears1 and the next thing that the eye catches is the meadowland of ,grindelwald1 some #i1jjj feet below4 ,i have looked down many precipices1 where the eye can trace the course of every pebble that bounds down the awful slopes1 and where ,i have shuddered as some dislodged fragment of rock showed the course which1 in case of accident1 fragments of my own body would follow4 ,a precipice is always1 for obvious reasons1 far more terrible from above than from below4 ,the creeping1 tingling sensation which passes through one's limbs--even when one knows oneself to be in perfect safety--testifies to the thrilling influence of the sight4 ,but ,i have never so realised the terrors of a terrific cliff as when ,i could not see it4 ,the awful gulf which intervened between me and the green meadows struck the imagination by its invisibility4 ,it was like the view which may be seen from the ridge of a cathedral roof1 where the eaves have for their immediate background the pavement of the streets below2 only this cathedral was #i1jjj feet high4 ,now1 any one standing at the foot of the ,wetterhorn may admire their stupendous massiveness and steepness2 but1 to feel their influence enter in the very marrow of one's bones1 it is necessary to stand at the summit1 and to fancy the one little slide down the short ice-slope1 to be followed apparently by a bound into clear air and a fall down to the houses1 from heights where only the eagle ventures to soar4 ,this is one of the ,alpine beauties1 which1 of course1 is3 beyond the power of art to imitate1 and which people are therefore apt to ignore4 ,but it is not the only one to be seen on the high summits4 ,it is often said that these views are not beautiful--apparently because they won't go into a picture1 or1 to put it more fairly1 because no picture3 can in the faintest degree imitate them4 ,but without quarrelling about words1 ,i think that1 even if beautiful be not the most correct epithet1 they have a marvellously stimulating effect upon the imagination4 ,let us look round from this wonderful pinnacle in mid air1 and note one or two of the most striking elements of the scenery4 ,you are1 in the first place1 perched on a cliff1 whose presence is the more felt because it is unseen4 ,then you are in a region over which eternal silence is brooding4 ,not a sound ever comes there1 except the occasional fall of a splintered fragment of rock1 or a layer of snow2 no stream is heard trickling1 and the sounds of animal life are left thousands of feet below4 ,the most that you can hear is some mysterious noise made by the wind eddying round the gigantic rocks2 sometimes a strange flapping sound1 as if an unearthly flag were shaking its invisible folds in the air4 ,the enormous tract of country over which your view extends--most of it dim and almost dissolved into air by distance--intensifies the strange influence of the silence4 ,you feel the force of the line ,i have quoted from ,wordsworth-- ,the sleep that is among the lonely hills4 ,none of the travellers whom you can see crawling at your feet has the least conception of what is meant by the silent solitudes of the ,high ,alps4 ,to you1 it is like a return to the stir of active life1 when1 after hours of lonely wandering1 you return to hear the tinkling of the cow-bells below2 to them the same sound is the ultimate limit of the habitable world4 ,whilst your mind is properly toned by these influences1 you become conscious of another fact1 to which the common variety of tourists is necessarily insensible4 ,you begin to find out for the first time what the mountains really are4 ,on one side1 you look back upon the huge reservoirs from which the ,oberland glaciers descend4 ,you see the vast stores from which the great rivers of ,europe are replenished1 the monstrous crawling masses that are carving the mountains into shape1 and the gigantic bulwarks that separate two great quarters of the world4 ,from below these wild regions are half invisible2 they are masked by the outer line of mountains2 and it is not till you are able to command them from some lofty point that you can appreciate the grandeur of the huge barriers1 and the snow that is piled within their folds4 ,there is another half of the view equally striking4 ,looking towards the north1 the whole of ,switzerland is couched at your feet2 the ,jura and the ,black ,forest lie on the far horizon4 ,and then you know what is the nature of a really mountainous country4 ,from below everything is seen in a kind of distorted perspective4 ,the people of the valley naturally think that the valley is everything--that the country resembles old-fashioned maps1 where a few sporadic lumps are distributed amongst towns and plains4 ,the true proportions reveal themselves as you ascend4 ,the valleys1 you can now see1 are nothing but narrow trenches scooped out amidst a tossing waste of mountain1 just to carry off the drainage4 ,the great ridges run hither and thither1 having it all their own way1 wild and untamable regions of rock or open grass or forest1 at whose feet the valleys exist on sufferance4 ,creeping about amongst the roots of the hills1 you half miss the hills themselves2 you quite fail to understand the massiveness of the mountain chains1 and1 therefore1 the wonderful energy of the forces that have heaved the surface of the world into these distorted shapes4 ,and it is to a half-conscious sense of the powers that must have been at work that a great part of the influence of mountain scenery is due4 ,geologists tell us that a theory of catastrophes is unphilosophical2 but1 whatever may be the scientific truth1 our minds are impressed as though we were witnessing the results of some incredible convulsion4 ,at ,stonehenge we ask what human beings could have erected these strange grey monuments1 and in the mountains we instinctively ask what force can have carved out the ,matterhorn1 and placed the ,wetterhorn on its gigantic pedestal4 ,now1 it is not till we reach some commanding point that we realise the amazing extent of country over which the solid ground has been shaking and heaving itself in irresistible tumult4 ,something1 it is true1 of this last effect may be seen from such mountains as the ,rigi or the ,faulhorn4 ,there1 too1 one seems to be at the centre of a vast sphere1 the earth bending up in a cup-like form to meet the sky1 and the blue vault above stretching in an arch majestical by its enormous extent4 ,there you seem to see a sensible fraction of the world at your feet4 ,but the effect is far less striking when other mountains obviously look down upon you2 when1 as it were1 you are looking at the waves of the great ocean of hills merely from the crest of one of the waves themselves1 and not from some lighthouse that rises far over their heads2 for the ,wetterhorn1 like the ,eiger1 ,mnch1 and ,jungfrau1 owes one great beauty to the fact that it is on the edge of the lower country1 and stands between the real giants and the crowd of inferior1 though still enormous1 masses in attendance upon them4 ,and1 in the next place1 your mind is far better adapted to receive impressions of sublimity when you are alone1 in a silent region1 with a black sky above and giant cliffs all round2 with a sense still in your mind1 if not of actual danger1 still of danger that would become real with the slightest relaxation of caution1 and with the world divided from you by hours of snow and rock4 ,i will go no further1 not because ,i have no more to say1 but because descriptions of scenery soon become wearisome1 and because ,i have1 ,i hope1 said enough to show that the mountaineer may boast of some intellectual pleasures2 that he is not a mere scrambler1 but that he looks for poetical impressions1 as well as for such small glory as his achievements may gain in a very small circle4 ,something of what he gains fortunately sticks by him3 he does not quite forget the mountain language2 his eye still recognises the space and the height and the glory of the lofty mountains4 ,and yet there is some pain in wandering ghostlike among the scenes of his earlier pleasures4 ,for my part1 ,i try in vain to hug myself in a sense of comfort4 ,i turn over in bed when ,i hear the stamping of heavily nailed shoes along the passage of an inn about #b ,a4,m4 ,i feel the skin of my nose complacently when ,i see others returning with a glistening tight aspect about that unluckily prominent feature1 and know that in a day or two it will be raw and blistered and burning4 ,i think1 in a comfortable inn at night1 of the miseries of those who are trying to sleep in damp hay1 or on hard boards of chlets1 at once cold and stuffy and haunted by innumerable fleas4 ,i congratulate myself on having a whole skin and unfractured bones1 and on the small danger of ever breaking them over an ,alpine precipice4 ,but yet ,i secretly know that these consolations are feeble4 ,it is little use to avoid early rising and discomfort1 and even fleas1 if one also loses the pleasures to which they were the sauce--rather too piquante a sauce occasionally1 it must be admitted4 ,the philosophy is all very well which recommends moderate enjoyment1 regular exercise1 and a careful avoidance of risk and over-excitement4 ,that is1 it is all very well so long as risk and excitement and immoderate enjoyment are out of your power2 but it does not stand the test of looking on and seeing them just beyond your reach4 ,in time1 no doubt1 a man may grow calm2 he may learn to enjoy the pleasures and the exquisite beauties of the lower regions--though they1 too1 are most fully enjoyed when they have a contrast with beauties of a different1 and pleasures of a keener excitement4 ,when first debarred1 at any rate1 one feels like a balloon full of gas1 and fixed by immovable ropes to the prosaic ground4 ,it is pleasant to lie on one's back in a bed of rhododendrons1 and look up to a mountain top peering at one from above a bank of cloud2 but it is pleasantest when one has qualified oneself for repose by climbing the peak the day before and becoming familiar with its terrors and its beauties4 ,in time1 doubtless1 one may get reconciled to anything2 one may settle down to be a caterpillar1 even after one has known the pleasures of being a butterfly2 one may become philosophical1 and have one's clothes let out2 and even in time1 perhaps--though it is almost too terrible to contemplate--be content with a mule or a carriage1 or that lowest depth to which human beings can sink1 and for which the ,english language happily affords no name1 a chaise porteurs3 and even in such degradation the memory of better times may be pleasant2 for ,i doubt much whether it is truth the poet sings-- ,that a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things4 ,certainly1 to a philosophical mind1 the sentiment is doubtful4 ,for my part1 the fate which has cut me off1 if ,i may use the expression1 in the flower of my youth1 and doomed me to be a non-climbing animal in future1 is one which ought to exclude grumbling4 ,i cannot indicate it more plainly1 for ,i might so make even the grumbling in which ,i have already indulged look like a sin4 ,i can only say that there are some very delightful things in which it is possible to discover an infinitesimal drop of bitterness1 and that the mountaineer who undertakes to cut himself off from his favourite pastime1 even for reasons which he will admit in his wildest moods to be more than amply sufficient1 must expect at times to feel certain pangs of regret1 however quickly they may be smothered4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #cc3 ,from ,the ,playground of ,europe1 #ahga4 ,,behavior#cd ,,ralph ,,waldo ,,emerson ,the soul which animates nature is not less significantly published in the figure1 movement1 and gesture of animated bodies1 than in its last vehicle of articulate speech4 ,this silent and subtle language is ,manners2 not what1 but how4 ,life expresses4 ,a statue has no tongue1 and needs none4 ,good tableaux do not need declamation4 ,nature tells every secret once4 ,yes1 but in man she tells it all the time1 by form1 attitude1 gesture1 mien1 face1 and parts of the face1 and by the whole action of the machine4 ,the visible carriage or action of the individual1 as resulting from his organization and his will combined1 we call manners4 ,what are they but thought entering the hands and feet1 controlling the movements of the body1 the speech and behavior8 ,there is always a best way of doing everything1 if it be to boil an egg4 ,manners are the happy ways of doing things2 each once a stroke of genius or of love1--now repeated and hardened into usage4 ,they form at last a rich varnish1 with which the routine of life is washed1 and its details adorned4 ,if they are superficial1 so are the dew-drops which give such a depth to the morning meadows4 ,manners are very communicable3 men catch them from each other4 ,consuelo1 in the romance1 boasts of the lessons she had given the nobles in manners1 on the stage3 and1 in real life1 ,talma taught ,napoleon the arts of behavior4 ,genius invents fine manners1 which the baron and the baroness copy very fast1 and1 by the advantage of a palace1 better the instruction4 ,they stereotype the lesson they have learned into a mode4 ,the power of manners is incessant1--an element as unconcealable as fire4 ,the nobility cannot in any country be disguised1 and no more in a republic or a democracy than in a kingdom4 ,no man can resist their influence4 ,there are certain manners which are learned in good society1 of that force1 that1 if a person have them1 he or she must be considered1 and is everywhere welcome1 though without beauty1 or wealth1 or genius4 ,give a boy address and accomplishments1 and you give him the mastery of palaces and fortunes where he goes4 ,he has not the trouble of earning or owning them2 they solicit him to enter and possess4 ,we send girls of a timid1 retreating disposition to the boarding-school1 to the riding-school1 to the ballroom1 or wheresoever they can come into acquaintance and nearness of leading persons of their own sex2 where they might learn address1 and see it near at hand4 ,the power of a woman of fashion to lead1 and also to daunt and repel1 derives from their belief that she knows resources and behaviors not known to them2 but when these have mastered her secret1 they learn to confront her1 and recover their self-possession4 ,every day bears witness to their gentle rule4 ,people who would obtrude1 now do not obtrude4 ,the mediocre circle learns to demand that which belongs to a high state of nature or of culture4 ,your manners are always under examination1 and by committees little suspected1--a police in citizen's clothes1--but are awarding or denying you very high prizes when you least think of it4 ,we talk much of utilities1--but 'tis our manners that associate us4 ,in hours of business1 we go to him who knows1 or has1 or does this or that which we want1 and we do not let our taste or feeling stand in the way4 ,but this activity over1 we return to the indolent state1 and wish for those we can be at ease with2 those who will go where we go1 whose manners do not offend us1 whose social tone chimes with ours4 ,when we reflect on their persuasive and cheering force2 how they recommend1 prepare1 and draw people together2 how1 in all clubs1 manners make the members2 how manners make the fortune of the ambitious youth2 that1 for the most part1 his manners marry him1 and1 for the most part1 he marries manners2 when we think what keys they are1 and to what secrets2 what high lessons and inspiring tokens of character they convey2 and what divination is required in us1 for the reading of this fine telegraph2 we see what range the subject has1 and what relations to convenience1 power1 and beauty4 ,their first service is very low1--when they are the minor morals2 but 'tis the beginning of civility1--to make us1 ,i mean1 endurable to each other4 ,we prize them for their rough-plastic1 abstergent force2 to get people out of the quadruped state2 to get them washed1 clothed1 and set up on end2 to slough their animal husks and habits2 compel them to be clean2 overawe their spite and meanness1 teach them to stifle the base1 and choose the generous expression1 and make them know how much happier the generous behaviors are4 ,bad behavior the laws cannot reach4 ,society is invested with rude1 cynical1 restless1 and frivolous persons who prey upon the rest1 and whom a public opinion concentrated into good manners1 forms accepted by the sense of all1 can reach2--the contradictors and railers at public and private tables1 who are like terriers1 who conceive it the duty of a dog of honor to growl at any passer-by1 and do the honors of the house by barking him out of sight2--,i have seen men who neigh like a horse when you contradict them1 or say something which they do not understand2--then the overbold1 who make their own invitation to your hearth2 the persevering talker1 who gives you his society in large1 saturating doses2 the pitiers of themselves1--a perilous class2 the frivolous ,asmodeus1 who relies on you to find him in ropes of sand to twist2 the monotones2 in short1 every stripe of absurdity2--these are social inflictions which the magistrate cannot cure or defend you from1 and which must be intrusted to the restraining force of custom1 and proverbs1 and familiar rules of behavior impressed on young people in their school-days4 ,in the hotels on the banks of the ,mississippi1 they print1 or used to print1 among the rules of the house1 that ,no gentleman can be permitted to come to the public table without his coat2 and in the same country1 in the pews of the churches1 little placards plead with the worshipper against the fury of expectoration4 ,charles ,dickens self-sacrificingly undertook the reformation of our ,american manners in unspeakable particulars4 ,i think the lesson was not quite lost2 that it held bad manners up1 so that the churls could see the deformity4 ,unhappily1 the book had its own deformities4 ,it ought not to need to print in a reading room a caution to strangers not to speak loud2 nor to persons who look over fine engravings1 that they should be handled like cobwebs and butterflies' wings2 nor to persons who look at marble statues1 that they shall not smite them with canes4 ,but1 even in the perfect civilization of this city1 such cautions are not quite needless in the ,athenaeum and ,city ,library4 ,manners are factitious1 and grow out of circumstances as well as out of character4 ,if you look at the pictures of patricians and of peasants1 of different periods and countries1 you will see how well they match the same classes in our towns4 ,the modern aristocrat not only is well drawn in ,titian's ,venetian doges1 and in ,roman coins and statues1 but also in the pictures which ,commodore ,perry brought home of dignitaries in ,japan4 ,broad lands and great interests not only arrive to such heads as can manage them1 but form manners of power4 ,a keen eye1 too1 will see nice gradations of rank1 or see in the manners the degree of homage the party is wont to receive4 ,a prince who is accustomed every day to be courted and deferred to by the highest grandees1 acquires a corresponding expectation1 and a becoming mode of receiving and replying to this homage4 ,there are always exceptional people and modes4 ,english grandees affect to be farmers4 ,claverhouse is a fop1 and1 under the finish of dress1 and levity of behavior1 hides the terror of his war4 ,but ,nature and ,destiny are honest1 and never fail to leave their mark1 to hang out a sign for each and for every quality4 ,it is much to conquer one's face1 and perhaps the ambitious youth thinks he has got the whole secret when he has learned that disengaged manners are commanding4 ,don't be deceived by a facile exterior4 ,tender men sometimes have strong wills4 ,we had1 in ,massachusetts1 an old statesman1 who had sat all his life in courts and in chairs of state1 without overcoming an extreme irritability of face1 voice1 and bearing3 when he spoke1 his voice would not serve him2 it cracked1 it broke1 it wheezed1 it piped2--little cared he2 he knew that it had got to pipe1 or wheeze1 or screech his argument and his indignation4 ,when he sat down1 after speaking1 he seemed in a sort of fit1 and held on to his chair with both hands3 but underneath all this irritability was a puissant will1 firm and advancing1 and a memory in which lay in order and method1 like geologic strata1 every fact of his history1 and under the control of his will4 ,manners are partly factitious1 but1 mainly1 there must be capacity for culture in the blood4 ,else all culture is vain4 ,the obstinate prejudice in favor of blood1 which lies at the base of the feudal and monarchical fabrics of the old world1 has some reason in common experience4 ,every man1--mathematician1 artist1 soldier1 or merchant1--looks with confidence for some traits and talents in his own child1 which he would not dare to presume in the child of a stranger4 ,the ,orientalists are very orthodox on this point4 ,take a thorn-bush1 said the emir ,abdel-,kader1 and sprinkle it for a whole year with water1 it will yield nothing but thorns4 ,take a date-tree1 leave it without culture1 and it will always produce dates4 ,nobility is the date-tree1 and the ,arab populace is a bush of thorns4 ,a main fact in the history of manners is the wonderful expressiveness of the human body4 ,if it were made of glass1 or of air1 and the thoughts were written on steel tablets within1 it could not publish more truly its meaning than now4 ,wise men read very sharply all your private history in your look and gait and behavior4 ,the whole economy of nature is bent on expression4 ,the tell-tale body is all tongues4 ,men are like ,geneva watches with crystal faces which expose the whole movement4 ,they carry the liquor of life flowing up and down in these beautiful bottles1 and announcing to the curious how it is with them4 ,the face and eyes reveal what the spirit is doing1 how old it is1 what aims it has4 ,the eyes indicate the antiquity of the soul1 or through how many forms it has already ascended4 ,it almost violates the proprieties1 if we say above the breath here what the confessing eyes do not hesitate to utter to every street passenger4 ,man cannot fix his eye on the sun1 and so far seems imperfect4 ,in ,siberia1 a late traveller found men who could see the satellites of ,jupiter with their unarmed eye4 ,in some respects the animals excel us4 ,the birds have a longer sight1 beside the advantage by their wings of a higher observatory4 ,a cow can bid her calf1 by secret signal1 probably of the eye1 to run away1 or to lie down and hide itself4 ,the jockeys say of certain horses1 that they look over the whole ground4 ,the outdoor life1 and hunting1 and labor1 give equal vigor to the human eye4 ,a farmer looks out at you as strong as the horse2 his eye-beam is like the stroke of a staff4 ,an eye can threaten like a loaded and levelled gun1 or can insult like hissing or kicking2 or1 in its altered mood1 by beams of kindness1 it can make the heart dance with joy4 ,the eye obeys exactly the action of the mind4 ,when a thought strikes us1 the eyes fix1 and remain gazing at a distance2 in enumerating the names of persons or of countries1 as ,france1 ,germany1 ,spain1 ,turkey1 the eyes wink at each new name4 ,there is no nicety of learning sought by the mind1 which the eyes do not vie in acquiring4 ,an artist1 said ,michael ,angelo1 must have his measuring tools not in the hand1 but in the eye2 and there is no end to the catalogue of its performances1 whether in indolent vision 7that of health and beauty7 or in strained vision 7that of art and labor74 ,eyes are bold as lions1--roving1 running1 leaping1 here and there1 far and near4 ,they speak all languages4 ,they wait for no introduction2 they are no ,englishmen2 ask no leave of age or rank2 they respect neither poverty nor riches1 neither learning nor power1 nor virtue1 nor sex1 but intrude1 and come again1 and go through and through you1 in a moment of time4 ,what inundation of life and thought is discharged from one soul into another through them6 ,the glance is natural magic4 ,the mysterious communication established across a house between two entire strangers moves all the springs of wonder4 ,the communication by the glance is in the greatest part not subject to the control of the will4 ,it is the bodily symbol of identity of nature4 ,we look into the eyes to know if this other form is another self1 and the eyes will not lie1 but make a faithful confession what inhabitant is there4 ,the revelations are sometimes terrific4 ,the confession of a low1 usurping devil is there made1 and the observer shall seem to feel the stirring of owls1 and bats1 and horned hoofs1 where he looked for innocence and simplicity4 ',tis remarkable1 too1 that the spirit that appears at the windows of the house does at once invest himself in a new form of his own to the mind of the beholder4 ,the eyes of men converse as much as their tongues1 with the advantage1 that the ocular dialect needs no dictionary1 but is understood all the world over4 ,when the eyes say one thing1 and the tongue another1 a practised man relies on the language of the first4 ,if the man is off his center1 the eyes show it4 ,you can read in the eyes of your companion1 whether your argument hits him1 though his tongue will not confess it4 ,there is a look by which a man shows he is going to say a good thing1 and a look when he has said it4 ,vain and forgotten are all the fine offers and offices of hospitality1 if there is no holiday in the eye4 ,how many furtive inclinations avowed by the eye1 though dissembled by the lips6 ,one comes away from a company1 in which1 it may easily happen1 he has said nothing1 and no important remark has been addressed to him1 and yet1 if in sympathy with the society he shall not have a sense of this fact1 such a stream of life has been flowing into him1 and out from him1 through the eyes4 ,there are eyes1 to be sure1 that give no more admission into the man than blue-berries4 ,others are liquid and deep1--wells that a man might fall into2--others are aggressive and devouring1 seem to call out the police1 take all too much notice1 and require crowded ,broadways1 and the security of millions1 to protect individuals against them4 ,the military eye ,i meet1 now darkly sparkling under clerical1 now under rustic brows4 ',tis the city of ,lacedaemon2 'tis a stack of bayonets4 ,there are asking eyes1 asserting eyes1 prowling eyes2 and eyes full of fate1--some of good1 and some of sinister omen4 ,the alleged power to charm down insanity1 or ferocity in beasts1 is a power behind the eye4 ,it must be a victory achieved in the will before it can be signified in the eye4 ',tis very certain that each man carries in his eye the exact indication of his rank in the immense scale of men1 and we are always learning to read it4 ,a complete man should need no auxiliaries to his personal presence4 ,whoever looked on him would consent to his will1 being certified that his aims were generous and universal4 ,the reason why men do not obey us1 is because they see the mud at the bottom of our eye4 ,if the organ of sight is such a vehicle of power1 the other features have their own4 ,a man finds room in the few square inches of the face for the traits of all his ancestors2 for the expression of all his history1 and his wants4 ,the sculptor1 and ,winckelmann1 and ,lavater1 will tell you how significant a feature is the nose2 how its forms express strength or weakness of will1 and good or bad temper4 ,the nose of ,julius ,caesar1 of ,dante1 and of ,pitt1 suggest the terrors of the beak4 ,what refinement1 and what limitations1 the teeth betray6 ,beware you don't laugh1 said the wise mother1 for then you show all your faults4 ,balzac left in manuscript a chapter1 which he called ,thorie de la dmarche1#ce in which he says3 ,the look1 the voice1 the respiration1 and the attitude or walk1 are identical4 ,but1 as it has not been given to man1 the power to stand guard1 at once1 over these four different simultaneous expressions of his thought1 watch that one which speaks out the truth1 and you will know the whole man4 ,palaces interest us mainly in the exhibition of manners1 which1 in the idle and expensive society dwelling in them1 are raised to a high art4 ,the maxim of courts is1 that manner is power4 ,a calm and resolute bearing1 a polished speech1 an embellishment of trifles1 and the art of hiding all uncomfortable feeling1 are essential to the courtier3 and ,saint ,simon1 and ,cardinal de ,retz1 and ,roederer1 and an encyclopaedia of ,mmoires1 will instruct you1 if you wish1 in those potent secrets4 ,thus1 it is a point of pride with kings to remember faces and names4 ,it is reported of one prince1 that his head had the air of leaning downwards1 in order not to humble the crowd4 ,there are people who come in ever like a child with a piece of good news4 ,it was said of the late ,lord ,holland1 that he always came down to breakfast with the air of a man who had just met with some signal good-fortune4 ,in ,notre ,dame1 the grandee took his place on the dais1 with the look of one who is thinking of something else4 ,but we must not peep and eavesdrop at palace-doors4 ,fine manners need the support of fine manners in others4 ,a scholar may be a well-bred man1 or he may not4 ,the enthusiast is introduced to polished scholars in society1 and is chilled and silenced by finding himself not in their element4 ,they all have somewhat which he has not1 and1 it seems1 ought to have4 ,but if he finds the scholar apart from his companions1 it is then the enthusiast's turn1 and the scholar has no defence1 but must deal on his terms4 ,now they must fight the battle out on their private strengths4 ,what is the talent of that character so common1--the successful man of the world1--in all marts1 senates1 and drawing-rooms8 ,manners3 mariners of power2 sense to see his advantage1 and manners up to it4 ,see him approach his man4 ,he knows that troops behave as they are handled at first2--that is his cheap secret2 just what happens to every two persons who meet on any affair1--one instantly perceives that he has the key of the situation1 that his will comprehends the other's will1 as the cat does the mouse2 and he has only to use courtesy1 and furnish good-natured reasons to his victim to cover up the chain1 lest he be shamed into resistance4 ,the theater in which this science of manners has a formal importance is not with us a court1 but dress-circles1 wherein1 after the close of the day's business1 men and women meet at leisure1 for mutual entertainment1 in ornamented drawing-rooms4 ,of course1 it has every variety of attraction and merit2 but1 to earnest persons1 to youths or maidens who have great objects at heart1 we cannot extol it highly4 ,a well-dressed1 talkative company1 where each is bent to amuse the other1--yet the high-born ,turk who came hither fancied that every woman seemed to be suffering for a chair2 that all the talkers were brained and exhausted by the deoxygenated air2 it spoiled the best persons3 it put all on stilts4 ,yet here are the secret biographies written and read4 ,the aspect of that man is repulsive2 ,i do not wish to deal with him4 ,the other is irritable1 shy1 and on his guard4 ,the youth looks humble and manly3 ,i choose him4 ,look on this woman4 ,there is not beauty1 nor brilliant sayings1 nor distinguished power1 to serve you2 but all see her gladly2 her whole air and impression are healthful4 ,here come the sentimentalists1 and the invalids4 ,here is ,elise1 who caught cold in coming into the world1 and has always increased it since4 ,here are creep-mouse manners1 and thievish manners4 ,look at ,northcote1 said ,fuseli2 he looks like a rat that has seen a cat4 ,in the shallow company1 easily excited1 easily tired1 here is the columnar ,bernard3 the ,alleghanies do not express more repose than his behavior4 ,here are the sweet following eyes of ,cecile3 it seemed always that she demanded the heart4 ,nothing can be more excellent in kind than the ,corinthian grace of ,gertrude's manners1 and yet ,blanche1 who has no manners1 has better manners than she2 for the movements of ,blanche are the sallies of a spirit which is sufficient for the moment1 and she can afford to express every thought by instant action4 ,manners have been somewhat cynically defined to be a contrivance of wise men to keep fools at a distance4 ,fashion is shrewd to detect those who do not belong to her train1 and seldom wastes her attentions4 ,society is very swift in its instincts1 and1 if you do not belong to it1 resists and sneers at you2 or quietly drops you4 ,the first weapon enrages the party attacked2 the second is still more effective1 but is not to be resisted1 as the date of the transaction is not easily found4 ,people grow up and grow old under this infliction1 and never suspect the truth1 ascribing the solitude which acts on them very injuriously to any cause but the right one4 ,the basis of good manners is self-reliance4 ,necessity is the law of all who are not self-possessed4 ,those who are not self-possessed1 obtrude1 and pain us4 ,some men appear to feel that they belong to a ,pariah caste4 ,they fear to offend1 they bend and apologize1 and walk through life with a timid step4 ,as we sometimes dream that we are in a well-dressed company without any coat1 so ,godfrey acts ever as if he suffered from some mortifying circumstance4 ,the hero should find himself at home1 wherever he is2 should impart comfort by his own security and good-nature to all beholders4 ,the hero is suffered to be himself4 ,a person of strong mind comes to perceive that for him an immunity is secured so long as he renders to society that service which is native and proper to him1--an immunity from all the observances1 yea1 and duties1 which society so tyrannically imposes on the rank and file of its members4 ,euripides1 says ,aspasia1 has not the fine manners of ,sophocles2 but1--she adds good-humoredly1 the movers and masters of our souls have surely a right to throw out their limbs as carelessly as they please on the world that belongs to them1 and before the creatures they have animated4#cf ,manners require time1 as nothing is more vulgar than haste4 ,friendship should be surrounded with ceremonies and respects1 and not crushed into corners4 ,friendship requires more time than poor busy men can usually command4 ,here comes to me ,roland1 with a delicacy of sentiment leading and inwrapping him like a divine cloud or holy ghost4 ,tis a great destitution to both that this should not be entertained with large leisures1 but1 contrariwise1 should be balked by importunate affairs4 ,but through this lustrous varnish the reality is ever shining4 ',tis hard to keep the what from breaking through this pretty painting of the how4 ,the core will come to the surface4 ,strong will and keen perception overpower old manners and create new2 and the thought of the present moment has a greater value than all the past4 ,in persons of character1 we do not remark manners1 because of their instantaneousness4 ,we are surprised by the thing done1 out of all power to watch the way of it4 ,yet nothing is more charming than to recognize the great style which runs through the actions of such4 ,people masquerade before us in their fortunes1 titles1 offices1 and connections1 as academic or civil presidents1 or senators1 or professors1 or great lawyers1 and impose on the frivolous1 and a good deal on each other1 by these fames4 ,at least1 it is a point of prudent good manners to treat these reputations tenderly1 as if they were merited4 ,but the sad realist knows these fellows at a glance1 and they know him2 as when in ,paris the chief of the police enters a ballroom1 so many diamonded pretenders shrink and make themselves as inconspicuous as they can1 or give him a supplicating look as they pass4 ,i had received1 said a sybil1 ,i had received at birth the fatal gift of penetration3--and these ,cassandras are always born4 ,manners impress as they indicate real power4 ,a man who is sure of his point1 carries a broad and contented expression1 which everybody reads4 ,and you cannot rightly train one to an air and manner1 except by making him the kind of man of whom that manner is the natural expression4 ,nature for ever puts a premium on reality4 ,what is done for effect1 is seen to be done for effect2 what is done for love1 is felt to be done for love4 ,a man inspires affection and honor1 because he was not lying in wait for these4 ,the things of a man for which we visit him1 were done in the dark and the cold4 ,a little integrity is better than any career4 ,so deep are the sources of this surface-action1 that even the size of your companion seems to vary with his freedom of thought4 ,not only is he larger1 when at ease1 and his thoughts generous1 but everything around him becomes variable with expression4 ,no carpenter's rule1 no rod and chain1 will measure the dimensions of any house or house-lot3 go into the house3 if the proprietor is constrained and deferring1 'tis of no importance how large his house1 how beautiful his grounds1--you quickly come to the end of all2 but if the man is self-possessed1 happy1 and at home1 his house is deep-founded1 indefinitely large and interesting1 the roof and dome buoyant as the sky4 ,under the humblest roof1 the commonest person in plain clothes sits there massive1 cheerful1 yet formidable1 like the ,egyptian colossi4 ,neither ,aristotle1 nor ,leibnitz1 nor ,junius1 nor ,champollion has set down the grammar-rules of this dialect1 older than ,sanscrit2 but they who cannot yet read ,english1 can read this4 ,men take each other's measure when they meet for the first time1--and every time they meet4 ,how do they get this rapid knowledge1 even before they speak1 of each other's power and dispositions8 ,one would say1 that the persuasion of their speech is not in what they say1--or1 that men do not convince by their argument1--but by their personality1 by who they are1 and what they said and did heretofore4 ,a man already strong is listened to1 and everything he says is applauded4 ,another opposes him with sound argument1 but the argument is scouted1 until by-and-by it gets into the mind of some weighty person2 then it begins to tell on the community4 ,self-reliance is the basis of behavior1 as it is the guaranty that the powers are not squandered in too much demonstration4 ,in this country1 where school education is universal1 we have a superficial culture1 and a profusion of reading and writing and expression4 ,we parade our nobilities in poems and orations1 instead of working them up into happiness4 ,there is a whisper out of the ages to him who can understand it1--,whatever is known to thyself alone1 has always very great value4 ,there is some reason to believe1 that1 when a man does not write his poetry1 it escapes by other vents through him1 instead of the one vent of writing2 clings to his form and manners1 whilst poets have often nothing poetical about them except their verses4 ,jacobi said that1 when a man has fully expressed his thought1 he has somewhat less possession of it4 ,one would say1 the rule is1--,what a man is irresistibly urged to say1 helps him and us4 ,in explaining his thought to others1 he explains it to himself3 but when he opens it for show1 it corrupts him4 ,society is the stage on which manners are shown2 novels are their literature4 ,novels are the journal or record of manners2 and the new importance of these books derives from the fact1 that the novelist begins to penetrate the surface1 and treats this part of life more worthily4 ,the novels used to be all alike1 and had a quite vulgar tone4 ,the novels used to lead us on to a foolish interest in the fortunes of the boy and girl they described4 ,the boy was to be raised from a humble to a high position4 ,he was in want of a wife and a castle1 and the object of the story was to supply him with one or both4 ,we watched sympathetically1 step by step1 his climbing1 until1 at last1 the point is gained1 the wedding day is fixed1 and we follow the gala procession home to the castle1 when the doors are slammed in our face1 and the poor reader is left outside in the cold1 not enriched by so much as an idea1 or a virtuous impulse4 ,but the victories of character are instant1 and victories for all4 ,its greatness enlarges all4 ,we are fortified by every heroic anecdote4 ,the novels are as useful as ,bibles1 if they teach you the secret1 that the best of life is conversation1 and the greatest success is confidence1 or perfect understanding between sincere people4 ',tis a ,french definition of friendship1 rien que s'entendre1 good understanding4 ,the highest compact we can make with our fellow is1--,let there be truth between us two for evermore4 ,that is the charm in all good novels1 as it is the charm in all good histories1 that the heroes mutually understand1 from the first1 and deal loyally1 and with a profound trust in each other4 ,it is sublime to feel and say of another1 ,i need never meet1 or speak1 or write to him3 we need not reinforce ourselves1 or send tokens of remembrance3 ,i rely on him as on myself3 if he did thus or thus1 ,i know it was right4 ,in all the superior people ,i have met1 ,i notice directness1 truth spoken more truly1 as if everything of obstruction1 of malformation1 had been trained away4 ,what have they to conceal8 ,what have they to exhibit8 ,between simple and noble persons1 there is always a quick intelligence3 they recognize at sight1 and meet on a better ground than the talents and skills they may chance to possess1 namely1 on sincerity and uprightness4 ,for1 it is not what talents or genius a man has1 but how he is to his talents1 that constitutes friendship and character4 ,the man that stands by himself1 the universe stands by him also4 ,it is related of the monk ,basle1 that1 being excommunicated by the ,pope1 he was1 at his death1 sent in charge of an angel to find a fit place of suffering in hell2 but1 such was the eloquence and good-humor of the monk1 that1 wherever he went1 he was received gladly1 and civilly treated1 even by the most uncivil angels3 and1 when he came to discourse with them1 instead of contradicting or forcing him1 they took his part1 and adopted his manners3 and even good angels came from far to see him1 and take up their abode with him4 ,the angel that was sent to find a place of torment for him1 attempted to remove him to a worse pit1 but with no better success2 for such was the contented spirit of the monk1 that he found something to praise in every place and company1 though in hell1 and made a kind of heaven of it4 ,at last the escorting angel returned with his prisoner to them that sent him1 saying1 that no phlegethon could be found that would burn him2 for that1 in whatever condition1 ,basle remained incorrigibly ,basle4 ,the legend says1 his sentence was remitted1 and he was allowed to go into heaven1 and was canonized as a saint4 ,there is a stroke of magnanimity in the correspondence of ,bonaparte with his brother ,joseph1 when the latter was ,king of ,spain1 and complained that he missed in ,napoleon's letters the affectionate tone which had marked their childish correspondence4 ,i am sorry1 replies ,napoleon1 you think you shall find your brother again only in the ,elysian ,fields4 ,it is natural that at forty he should not feel towards you as he did at twelve4 ,but his feelings towards you have greater truth and strength4 ,his friendship has the features of his mind4 ,how much we forgive to those who yield us the rare spectacle of heroic manners6 ,we will pardon them the want of books1 of arts1 and even of the gentler virtues4 ,how tenaciously we remember them6 ,here is a lesson which ,i brought along with me in boyhood from the ,latin ,school1 and which ranks with the best of ,roman anecdotes4 ,marcus ,scaurus was accused by ,quintus ,varius ,hispanus1 that he had excited the allies to take arms against the ,republic4 ,but he1 full of firmness and gravity1 defended himself in this manner3 ,quintus ,varius ,hispanus alleges that ,marcus ,scaurus1 ,president of the ,senate1 excited the allies to arms3 ,marcus ,scaurus1 ,president of the ,senate1 denies it4 ,there is no witness4 ,which do you believe1 ,romans8 ,utri creditis1 ,quirites8 ,when he had said these words1 he was absolved by the assembly of the people4 ,i have seen manners that make a similar impression with personal beauty2 that give the like exhilaration1 and refine us like that2 and1 in memorable experiences1 they are suddenly better than beauty1 and make that superfluous and ugly4 ,but they must be marked by fine perception1 the acquaintance with real beauty4 ,they must always show self-control3 you shall not be facile1 apologetic1 or leaky1 but king over your word2 and every gesture and action shall indicate power at rest4 ,then they must be inspired by the good heart4 ,there is no beautifier of complexion1 or form1 or behavior1 like the wish to scatter joy and not pain around us4 ',tis good to give a stranger a meal1 or a night's lodging4 ',tis better to be hospitable to his good meaning and thought1 and give courage to a companion4 ,we must be as courteous to a man as we are to a picture1 which we are willing to give the advantage of a good light4 ,special precepts are not to be thought of3 the talent of well-doing contains them all4 ,every hour will show a duty as paramount as that of my whim just now2 and yet ,i will write it1--that there is one topic peremptorily forbidden to all well-bred1 to all rational mortals1 namely1 their distempers4 ,if you have not slept1 or if you have slept1 or if you have headache1 or sciatica1 or leprosy1 or thunder-stroke1 ,i beseech you1 by all angels1 to hold your peace1 and not pollute the morning1 to which all the housemates bring serene and pleasant thoughts1 by corruption and groans4 ,come out in the azure4 ,love the day4 ,do not leave the sky out of your landscape4 ,the oldest and the most deserving person should come very modestly into any newly awaked company1 respecting the divine communications1 out of which all must be presumed to have newly come4 ,an old man who added an elevating culture to a large experience of life1 said to me1 ,when you come into the room1 ,i think ,i will study how to make humanity beautiful to you4 ,as respects the delicate question of culture1 ,i do not think that any other than negative rules can be laid down4 ,for positive rules1 for suggestion1 nature alone inspires it4 ,who dare assume to guide a youth1 a maid1 to perfect manners8--the golden mean is so delicate1 difficult1--say frankly unattainable4 ,what finest hands would not be clumsy to sketch the genial precepts of the young girl's demeanor8 ,the chances seem infinite against success2 and yet success is continually attained4 ,there must not be secondariness1 and 'tis a thousand to one that her air and manner will at once betray that she is not primary1 but that there is some other one or many of her class1 to whom she habitually postpones herself4 ,but nature lifts her easily1 and without knowing it1 over these impossibilities1 and we are continually surprised with graces and felicities not only unteachable1 but undescribable4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #cd3 ,chapter ,v of ,the ,conduct of ,life1 #ahfj4 ,footnote #ce3 ,theory of gait and demeanor4 ,footnote #cf3 ,from ,landor's ,pericles and ,aspasia4 ,,manners ,,and ,,fashion#cg ,,herbert ,,spencer ,some who shun drawing-rooms do so from inability to bear the restraints prescribed by a genuine refinement1 and they would be greatly improved by being kept under these restraints4 ,but it is not less true that1 by adding to the legitimate restraints1 which are based on convenience and a regard for others1 a host of factitious restraints based only on convention1 the refining discipline1 which would else have been borne with benefit1 is rendered unbearable1 and so misses its end4 ,excess of government invariably defeats itself by driving away those to be governed4 ,and if over all who desert its entertainments in disgust either at their emptiness or their formality1 society thus loses its salutary influence--if such not only fail to receive that moral culture which the company of ladies1 when rationally regulated1 would give them1 but1 in default of other relaxation1 are driven into habits and companionships which often end in gambling and drunkenness2 must we not say that here1 too1 is an evil not to be passed over as insignificant8 ,then consider what a blighting effect these multitudinous preparations and ceremonies have upon the pleasures they profess to subserve4 ,who1 on calling to mind the occasions of his highest social enjoyments1 does not find them to have been wholly informal1 perhaps impromptu8 ,how delightful a picnic of friends1 who forget all observances save those dictated by good nature6 ,how pleasant the little unpretended gatherings of book-societies1 and the like2 or those purely accidental meetings of a few people well known to each other6 ,then1 indeed1 we may see that a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend4 ,cheeks flush1 and eyes sparkle4 ,the witty grow brilliant1 and even the dull are excited into saying good things4 ,there is an overflow of topics2 and the right thought1 and the right words to put it in1 spring up unsought4 ,grave alternates with gay3 now serious converse1 and now jokes1 anecdotes1 and playful raillery4 ,everyone's best nature is shown1 everyone's best feelings are in pleasurable activity2 and1 for the time1 life seems well worth having4 ,go now and dress for some half-past eight dinner1 or some ten o'clock at home2 and present yourself in spotless attire1 with every hair arranged to perfection4 ,how great the difference6 ,the enjoyment seems in the inverse ratio of the preparation4 ,these figures1 got up with such finish and precision1 appear but half alive4 ,they have frozen each other by their primness2 and your faculties feel the numbing effects of the atmosphere the moment you enter it4 ,all those thoughts1 so nimble and so apt awhile since1 have disappeared--have suddenly acquired a preternatural power of eluding you4 ,if you venture a remark to your neighbour1 there comes a trite rejoinder1 and there it ends4 ,no subject you can hit upon outlives half a dozen sentences4 ,nothing that is said excites any real interest in you2 and you feel that all you say is listened to with apathy4 ,by some strange magic1 things that usually give pleasure seem to have lost all charm4 ,you have a taste for art4 ,weary of frivolous talk1 you turn to the table1 and find that the book of engravings and the portfolio of photographs are as flat as the conversation4 ,you are fond of music4 ,yet the singing1 good as it is1 you hear with utter indifference2 and say ,thank you with a sense of being a profound hypocrite4 ,wholly at ease though you could be1 for your own part1 you find that your sympathies will not let you4 ,you see young gentlemen feeling whether their ties are properly adjusted1 looking vacantly round1 and considering what they shall do next4 ,you see ladies sitting disconsolately1 waiting for some one to speak to them1 and wishing they had the wherewith to occupy their fingers4 ,you see the hostess standing about the doorway1 keeping a factitious smile on her face1 and racking her brain to find the requisite nothings with which to greet her guests as they enter4 ,you see numberless traits of weariness and embarrassment2 and1 if you have any fellow-feeling1 these cannot fail to produce a feeling of discomfort4 ,the disorder is catching2 and do what you will you cannot resist the general infection4 ,you struggle against it2 you make spasmodic efforts to be lively2 but none of your sallies or your good stories do more than raise a simper or a forced laugh3 intellect and feeling are alike asphyxiated4 ,and when1 at length1 yielding to your disgust1 you rush away1 how great is the relief when you get into the fresh air1 and see the stars6 ,how you ,thank ,god1 that's over6 and half resolve to avoid all such boredom for the future6 ,what1 now1 is the secret of this perpetual miscarriage and disappointment8 ,does not the fault lie with all these needless adjuncts--these elaborate dressings1 these set forms1 these expensive preparations1 these many devices and arrangements that imply trouble and raise expectation8 ,who that has lived thirty years in the world has not discovered that ,pleasure is coy2 and must not be too directly pursued1 but must be caught unawares8 ,an air from a street-piano1 heard while at work1 will often gratify more than the choicest music played at a concert by the most accomplished musicians4 ,a single good picture seen in a dealer's window1 may give keener enjoyment than a whole exhibition gone through with catalogue and pencil4 ,by the time we have got ready our elaborate apparatus by which to secure happiness1 the happiness is gone4 ,it is too subtle to be contained in these receivers1 garnished with compliments1 and fenced round with etiquette4 ,the more we multiply and complicate appliances1 the more certain are we to drive it away4 ,the reason is patent enough4 ,these higher emotions to which social intercourse ministers1 are of extremely complex nature2 they consequently depend for their production upon very numerous conditions2 the more numerous the conditions1 the greater the liability that one or other of them will be disturbed1 and the emotions consequently prevented4 ,it takes a considerable misfortune to destroy appetite2 but cordial sympathy with those around may be extinguished by a look or a word4 ,hence it follows1 that the more multiplied the unnecessary requirements with which social intercourse is surrounded1 the less likely are its pleasures to be achieved4 ,it is difficult enough to fulfil continuously all the essentials to a pleasurable communion with others3 how much more difficult1 then1 must it be continuously to fulfil a host of non-essentials also6 ,it is1 indeed1 impossible4 ,the attempt inevitably ends in the sacrifice of the first to the last--the essentials to the non-essentials4 ,what chance is there of getting any genuine response from the lady who is thinking of your stupidity in taking her in to dinner on the wrong arm8 ,how are you likely to have agreeable converse with the gentleman who is fuming internally because he is not placed next to the hostess8 ,formalities1 familiar as they may become1 necessarily occupy attention--necessarily multiply the occasions for mistake1 misunderstanding1 and jealousy1 on the part of one or other--necessarily distract all minds from the thoughts and feelings that should occupy them--necessarily1 therefore1 subvert those conditions under which only any sterling intercourse is to be had4 ,and this indeed is the fatal mischief which these conventions entail--a mischief to which every other is secondary4 ,they destroy those highest of our pleasures which they profess to subserve4 ,all institutions are alike in this1 that however useful1 and needful even1 they originally were1 they not only in the end cease to be so1 but become detrimental4 ,while humanity is growing1 they continue fixed2 daily get more mechanical and unvital2 and by and by tend to strangle what they before preserved4 ,it is not simply that they become corrupt and fail to act2 they become obstructions4 ,old forms of government finally grow so oppressive1 that they must be thrown off even at the risk of reigns of terror4 ,old creeds end in being dead formulas1 which no longer aid but distort and arrest the general mind2 while the ,state-churches administering them1 come to be instruments for subsidising conservatism and repressing progress4 ,old schemes of education1 incarnated in public schools and colleges1 continue filling the heads of new generations with what has become relatively useless knowledge1 and1 by consequence1 excluding knowledge which is useful4 ,not an organisation of any kind--political1 religious1 literary1 philanthropic--but what1 by its ever-multiplying regulations1 its accumulating wealth1 its yearly addition of officers1 and the creeping into it of patronage and party feeling1 eventually loses its original spirit1 and sinks into a mere lifeless mechanism1 worked with a view to private ends--a mechanism which not merely fails of its first purpose1 but is a positive hindrance to it4 ,thus is it1 too1 with social usages4 ,we read of the ,chinese that they have ponderous ceremonies transmitted from time immemorial1 which make social intercourse a burden4 ,the court forms prescribed by monarchs for their own exaltation1 have1 in all times and places1 ended in consuming the comfort of their lives4 ,and so the artificial observances of the dining-room and saloon1 in proportion as they are many and strict1 extinguish that agreeable communion which they were originally intended to secure4 ,the dislike with which people commonly speak of society that is formal1 and stiff1 and ceremonious1 implies the general recognition of this fact2 and this recognition1 logically developed1 involves that all usages of behaviour which are not based on natural requirements1 are injurious4 ,that these conventions defeat their own ends is no new assertion4 ,swift1 criticising the manners of his day1 says--,wise men are often more uneasy at the over-civility of these refiners than they could possibly be in the conversation of peasants and mechanics4 ,but it is not only in these details that the self-defeating action of our arrangements is traceable3 it is traceable in the very substance and nature of them4 ,our social intercourse1 as commonly managed1 is a mere semblance of the reality sought4 ,what is it that we want8 ,some sympathetic converse with our fellow-creatures3 some converse that shall not be mere dead words1 but the vehicle of living thoughts and feelings--converse in which the eyes and the face shall speak1 and the tones of the voice be full of meaning--converse which shall make us feel no longer alone1 but shall draw us closer to another1 and double our own emotions by adding another's to them4 ,who is there that has not1 from time to time1 felt how cold and flat is all this talk about politics and science1 and the new books and the new men1 and how a genuine utterance of fellow-feeling outweighs the whole of it8 ,mark the words of ,bacon3--,for a crowd is not a company1 and faces are but a gallery of pictures1 and talk but a tinkling cymbal1 where there is no love4 ,if this be true1 then it is only after acquaintance has grown into intimacy1 and intimacy has ripened into friendship1 that the real communion which men need becomes possible4 ,a rationally-formed circle must consist almost wholly of those on terms of familiarity and regard1 with but one or two strangers4 ,what folly1 then1 underlies the whole system of our grand dinners1 our at homes1 our evening parties--assemblages made up of many who never met before1 many others who just bow to each other1 many others who though familiar feel mutual indifference1 with just a few real friends lost in the general mass6 ,you need1 but look round at the artificial expression of face1 to see at once how it is4 ,all have their disguises on2 and how can there be sympathy between masks8 ,no wonder that in private every one exclaims against the stupidity of these gatherings4 ,no wonder that hostesses get them up rather because they must than because they wish4 ,no wonder that the invited go less from the expectation of pleasure than from fear of giving offence4 ,the whole thing is a gigantic mistake--an organised disappointment4 ,and then note1 lastly1 that in this case1 as in all others1 when an organisation has become effete and inoperative for its legitimate purpose1 it is employed for quite other ones--quite opposite ones4 ,what is the usual plea put in for giving and attending these tedious assemblies8 ,i admit that they are stupid and frivolous enough1 replies every man to your criticisms2 but then1 you know1 one must keep up one's connections4 ,and could you get from his wife a sincere answer1 it would be--,like you1 ,i am sick of these frivolities2 but then1 we must get our daughters married4 ,the one knows that there is a profession to push1 a practice to gain1 a business to extend3 or parliamentary influence1 or county patronage1 or votes1 or office1 to be got3 position1 berths1 favours1 profit4 ,the other's thoughts run upon husbands and settlements1 wives and dowries4 ,worthless for their ostensible purpose of daily bringing human beings into pleasurable relations with each other1 these cumbrous appliances of our social intercourse are now perseveringly kept in action with a view to the pecuniary and matrimonial results which they indirectly produce4 ,who then shall say that the reform of our system of observances is unimportant8 ,when we see how this system induces fashionable extravagance1 with its entailed bankruptcy and ruin--when we mark how greatly it limits the amount of social intercourse among the less wealthy classes--when we find that many who most need to be disciplined by mixing with the refined are driven away by it1 and led into dangerous and often fatal courses--when we count up the many minor evils it inflicts1 the extra work which its costliness entails on all professional and mercantile men1 the damage to public taste in dress and decoration by the setting up of its absurdities as standards for imitation1 the injury to health indicated in the faces of its devotees at the close of the ,london season1 the mortality of milliners and the like1 which its sudden exigencies yearly involve2--and when to all these we add its fatal sin1 that it blights1 withers up1 and kills that high enjoyment it professedly ministers to--that enjoyment which is a chief end of our hard struggling in life to obtain--shall we not conclude that to reform our system of etiquette and fashion1 is an aim yielding to few in urgency8 ,there needs1 then1 a protestantism in social usages4 ,forms that have ceased to facilitate and have become obstructive--whether political1 religious1 or other--have ever to be swept away2 and eventually are so swept away in all cases4 ,signs are not wanting that some change is at hand4 ,a host of satirists1 led on by ,thackeray1 have been for years engaged in bringing our sham-festivities1 and our fashionable follies1 into contempt2 and in their candid moods1 most men laugh at the frivolities with which they and the world in general are deluded4 ,ridicule has always been a revolutionary agent4 ,that which is habitually assailed with sneers and sarcasms cannot long survive4 ,institutions that have lost their roots in men's respect and faith are doomed2 and the day of their dissolution is not far off4 ,the time is approaching1 then1 when our system of social observances must pass through some crisis1 out of which it will come purified and comparatively simple4 ,how this crisis will be brought about1 no one can with any certainty say4 ,whether by the continuance and increase of individual protests1 or whether by the union of many persons for the practice and propagation of some better system1 the future alone can decide4 ,the influence of dissentients acting without cooperation1 seems1 under the present state of things1 inadequate4 ,standing severally alone1 and having no well-defined views2 frowned on by conformists1 and expostulated with even by those who secretly sympathise with them2 subject to petty persecutions1 and unable to trace any benefit produced by their example2 they are apt1 one by one1 to give up their attempts as hopeless4 ,the young convention-breaker eventually finds that he pays too heavily for his nonconformity4 ,hating1 for example1 everything that bears about it any remnant of servility1 he determines1 in the ardour of his independence1 that he will uncover to no one4 ,but what he means simply as a general protest1 he finds that ladies interpret into a personal disrespect4 ,though he sees that1 from the days of chivalry downwards1 these marks of supreme consideration paid to the other sex have been but a hypocritical counterpart to the actual subjection in which men have held them--a pretended submission to compensate for a real domination2 and though he sees that when the true dignity of women is recognised1 the mock dignities given to them will be abolished1 yet he does not like to be thus misunderstood1 and so hesitates in his practice4 ,in other cases1 again1 his courage fails him4 ,such of his unconventionalities as can be attributed only to eccentricity1 he has no qualms about3 for1 on the whole1 he feels rather complimented than otherwise in being considered a disregarder of public opinion4 ,but when they are liable to be put down to ignorance1 to ill-breeding1 or to poverty1 he becomes a coward4 ,however clearly the recent innovation of eating some kinds of fish with knife and fork proves the fork-and-bread practice to have had little but caprice for its basis1 yet he dares not wholly ignore that practice while fashion partially maintains it4 ,though he thinks that a silk handkerchief is quite as appropriate for drawing-room use as a white cambric one1 he is not altogether at ease in acting out his opinion4 ,then1 too1 be begins to perceive that his resistance to prescription brings round disadvantageous results which he had not calculated upon4 ,he had expected that it would save him from a great deal of social intercourse of a frivolous kind--that it would offend the fools1 but not the sensible people2 and so would serve as a self-acting test by which those worth knowing would be separated from those not worth knowing4 ,but the fools prove to be so greatly in the majority that1 by offending them1 he closes against himself nearly all the avenues through which the sensible people are to be reached4 ,thus he finds that his nonconformity is frequently misinterpreted2 that there are but few directions in which he dares to carry it consistently out2 that the annoyances and disadvantages which it brings upon him are greater than he anticipated2 and that the chances of his doing any good are very remote4 ,hence he gradually loses resolution1 and lapses1 step by step1 into the ordinary routine of observances4 ,abortive as individual protests thus generally turn out1 it may possibly be that nothing effectual will be done until there arises some organised resistance to this invisible despotism1 by which our modes and habits are dictated4 ,it may happen1 that the government of ,manners and ,fashion will be rendered less tyrannical1 as the political and religious governments have been1 by some antagonistic union4 ,alike in ,church and ,state1 men's first emancipations from excess of restriction were achieved by numbers1 bound together by a common creed1 or a common political faith4 ,what remained undone while there were but individual schismatics or rebels1 was effected when there came to be many acting in concert4 ,it is tolerably clear that these earliest instalments of freedom could not have been obtained in any other way2 for so long as the feeling of personal independence was weak and the rule strong1 there could never have been a sufficient number of separate dissentients to produce the desired results4 ,only in these later times1 during which the secular and spiritual controls have been growing less coercive1 and the tendency towards individual liberty greater1 has it become possible for smaller and smaller sects and parties to fight against established creeds and laws2 until now men may safely stand even alone in their antagonism4 ,the failure of individual nonconformity to customs1 as above illustrated1 suggests that an analogous series of changes may have to be gone through in this case also4 ,it is true that the lex non scripta differs from the lex scripta in this1 that1 being unwritten1 it is more readily altered2 and that it has1 from time to time1 been quietly ameliorated4 ,nevertheless1 we shall find that the analogy holds substantially good4 ,for in this case1 as in the others1 the essential revolution is not the substituting of any one set of restraints for any other1 but the limiting or abolishing the authority which prescribes restraints4 ,just as the fundamental change inaugurated by the ,reformation1 was not a superseding of one creed by another1 but an ignoring of the arbiter who before dictated creeds--just as the fundamental change which ,democracy long ago commenced1 was not from this particular law to that1 but from the despotism of one to the freedom of all2 so1 the parallel change yet to be wrought out in this supplementary government of which we are treating1 is not the replacing of absurd usages by sensible ones1 but the dethronement of that secret1 irresponsible power which now imposes our usages1 and the assertion of the right of all individuals to choose their own usages4 ,in rules of living1 a ,west-end clique is our ,pope2 and we are all papists1 with but a mere sprinkling of heretics4 ,on all who decisively rebel1 comes down the penalty of excommunication1 with its long catalogue of disagreeable and1 indeed1 serious consequences4 ,the liberty of the subject asserted in our constitution1 and ever on the increase1 has yet to be wrested from this subtler tyranny4 ,the right of private judgment1 which our ancestors wrung from the church1 remains to be claimed from this dictator of our habits4 ,or1 as before said1 to free us from these idolatries and superstitious conformities1 there has still to come a protestantism in social usages4 ,parallel1 therefore1 as is the change to be wrought out1 it seems not improbable that it may be wrought out in an analogous way4 ,that influence which solitary dissentients fail to gain1 and that perseverance which they lack1 may come into existence when they unite4 ,that persecution which the world now visits upon them from mistaking their nonconformity for ignorance or disrespect1 may diminish when it is seen to result from principle4 ,the penalty which exclusion now entails may disappear when they become numerous enough to form visiting circles of their own4 ,and when a successful stand has been made1 and the brunt of the opposition has passed1 that large amount of secret dislike to our observances which now pervades society1 may manifest itself with sufficient power to effect the desired emancipation4 ,whether such will be the process1 time alone can decide4 ,that community of origin1 growth1 supremacy1 and decadence which we have found among all kinds of government1 suggests a community in modes of change also4 ,on the other hand1 ,nature often performs substantially similar operations1 in ways apparently different4 ,hence these details can never be foretold4 ,society1 in all its developments1 undergoes the process of exuviation4 ,these old forms which it successively throws off1 have all been once vitally united with it--have severally served as the protective envelopes within which a higher humanity was being evolved4 ,they are cast aside only when they become hindrances--only when some inner and better envelope has been formed2 and they bequeath to us all that there was in them of good4 ,the periodical abolitions of tyrannical laws have left the administration of justice not only uninjured1 but purified4 ,dead and buried creeds have not carried with them the essential morality they contained1 which still exists1 uncontaminated by the sloughs of superstition4 ,and all that there is of justice and kindness and beauty1 embodied in our cumbrous forms of etiquette1 will live perennially when the forms themselves have been forgotten4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #cg3 ,from ,illustrations of ,universal ,progress1 #ahfd4 ,,talk ,,and ,,talkers#ch ,,robert ,,louis ,,stevenson ,sir1 we had a good talk4--,,johnson4 ,as we must account for every idle word1 so we must for every idle silence4--,,franklin4 ,there can be no fairer ambition than to excel in talk2 to be affable1 gay1 ready1 clear and welcome2 to have a fact1 a thought1 or an illustration1 pat to every subject2 and not only to cheer the flight of time among our intimates1 but bear our part in that great international congress1 always sitting1 where public wrongs are first declared1 public errors first corrected1 and the course of public opinion shaped1 day by day1 a little nearer to the right4 ,no measure comes before ,parliament but it has been long ago prepared by the grand jury of the talkers2 no book is written that has not been largely composed by their assistance4 ,literature in many of its branches is no other than the shadow of good talk2 but the imitation falls far short of the original in life1 freedom1 and effect4 ,there are always two to a talk1 giving and taking1 comparing experience and according conclusions4 ,talk is fluid1 tentative1 continually in further search and progress2 while written words remain fixed1 become idols even to the writer1 found wooden dogmatisms1 and preserve flies of obvious error in the amber of the truth4 ,last and chief1 while literature1 gagged with linsey-woolsey1 can only deal with a fraction of the life of man1 talk goes fancy free and may call a spade a spade4 ,it cannot1 even if it would1 become merely aesthetic or merely classical like literature4 ,a jest intervenes1 the solemn humbug is dissolved in laughter1 and speech runs forth out of the contemporary groove into the open fields of nature1 cheery and cheering1 like schoolboys out of school4 ,and it is in talk alone that we can learn our period and ourselves4 ,in short1 the first duty of a man is to speak2 that is his chief business in this world2 and talk1 which is the harmonious speech of two or more1 is by far the most accessible of pleasures4 ,it costs nothing in money2 it is all profit2 it completes our education1 founds and fosters our friendships1 and can be enjoyed at any age and in almost any state of health4 ,the spice of life is battle2 the friendliest relations are still a kind of contest2 and if we would not forego all that is valuable in our lot1 we must continually face some other person1 eye to eye1 and wrestle a fall whether in love or enmity4 ,it is still by force of body1 or power of character or intellect1 that we attain to worthy pleasures4 ,men and women contend for each other in the lists of love1 like rival mesmerists2 the active and adroit decide their challenges in the sports of the body2 and the sedentary sit down to chess or conversation4 ,all sluggish and pacific pleasures are1 to the same degree1 solitary and selfish2 and every durable bond between human beings is founded in or heightened by some element of competition4 ,now1 the relation that has the least root in matter is undoubtedly that airy one of friendship2 and hence1 ,i suppose1 it is that good talk most commonly arises among friends4 ,talk is1 indeed1 both the scene and instrument of friendship4 ,it is in talk alone that the friends can measure strength1 and enjoy that amicable counter-assertion of personality which is the gauge of relations and the sport of life4 ,a good talk is not to be had for the asking4 ,humours must first be accorded in a kind of overture or prologue2 hour1 company and circumstance be suited2 and then1 at a fit juncture1 the subject1 the quarry of two heated minds1 springs up like a deer out of the wood4 ,not that the talker has any of the hunter's pride1 though he has all and more than all his ardour4 ,the genuine artist follows the stream of conversation as an angler follows the windings of a brook1 not dallying where he fails to kill4 ,he trusts implicitly to hazard2 and he is rewarded by continual variety1 continual pleasure1 and those changing prospects of the truth that are the best of education4 ,there is nothing in a subject1 so called1 that we should regard it as an idol1 or follow it beyond the promptings of desire4 ,indeed1 there are few subjects2 and so far as they are truly talkable1 more than the half of them may be reduced to three3 that ,i am ,i1 that you are you1 and that there are other people dimly understood to be not quite the same as either4 ,wherever talk may range1 it still runs half the time on these eternal lines4 ,the theme being set1 each plays on himself as on an instrument2 asserts and justifies himself2 ransacks his brain for instances and opinions1 and brings them forth new-minted1 to his own surprise and the admiration of his adversary4 ,all natural talk is a festival of ostentation2 and by the laws of the game each accepts and fans the vanity of the other4 ,it is from that reason that we venture to lay ourselves so open1 that we dare to be so warmly eloquent1 and that we swell in each other's eyes to such a vast proportion4 ,for talkers1 once launched1 begin to overflow the limits of their ordinary selves1 tower up to the height of their secret pretensions1 and give themselves out for the heroes1 brave1 pious1 musical1 and wise1 that in their most shining moments they aspire to be4 ,so they weave for themselves with words and for a while inhabit a palace of delights1 temple at once and theatre1 where they fill the round of the world's dignities1 and feast with the gods1 exulting in ,kudos4#ci ,and when the talk is over1 each goes his way1 still flushed with vanity and admiration1 still trailing clouds of glory2 each declines from the height of his ideal orgy1 not in a moment1 but by slow declension4 ,i remember1 in the entr'acte of an afternoon performance1 coming forth into the sunshine1 in a beautiful green1 gardened corner of a romantic city2 and as ,i sat and smoked1 the music moving in my blood1 ,i seemed to sit there and evaporate ,the ,flying ,dutchman 7for it was that ,i had been hearing7 with a wonderful sense of life1 warmth1 well-being1 and pride2 and the noises of the city1 voices1 bells and marching feet1 fell together in my ears like a symphonious orchestra4 ,in the same way1 the excitement of a good talk lives for a long while after in the blood1 the heart still hot within you1 the brain still simmering1 and the physical earth swimming around you with the colours of the sunset4 ,natural talk1 like ploughing1 should turn up a large surface of life1 rather than dig mines into geological strata4 ,masses of experience1 anecdote1 incident1 cross-lights1 quotation1 historical instances1 the whole flotsam and jetsam of two minds forced in and in upon the matter in hand from every point of the compass1 and from every degree of mental elevation and abasement--these are the material with which talk is fortified1 the food on which the talkers thrive4 ,such argument as is proper to the exercise should still be brief and seizing4 ,talk should proceed by instances2 by the apposite1 not the expository4 ,it should keep close along the lines of humanity1 near the bosoms and businesses of men1 at the level where history1 fiction and experience intersect and illuminate each other4 ,i am ,i1 and ,you are ,you1 with all my heart2 but conceive how these lean propositions change and brighten when1 instead of words1 the actual you and ,i sit cheek by jowl1 the spirit housed in the live body1 and the very clothes uttering voices to corroborate the story in the face4 ,not less surprising is the change when we leave off to speak of generalities--the bad1 the good1 the miser1 and all the characters of ,theophrastus--and call up other men1 by anecdote or instance1 in their very trick and feature2 or trading on a common knowledge1 toss each other famous names1 still glowing with the hues of life4 ,communication is no longer by words1 but by the instancing of whole biographies1 epics1 systems of philosophy1 and epochs of history1 in bulk4 ,that which is understood excels that which is spoken in quantity and quality alike2 ideas thus figured and personified1 change hands1 as we may say1 like coin2 and the speakers imply without effort the most obscure and intricate thoughts4 ,strangers who have a large common ground of reading will1 for this reason1 come the sooner to the grapple of genuine converse4 ,if they know ,othello and ,napoleon1 ,consuelo and ,clarissa ,harlowe1 ,vautrin and ,steenie ,steenson1 they can leave generalities and begin at once to speak by figures4 ,conduct and art are the two subjects that arise most frequently and that embrace the widest range of facts4 ,a few pleasures bear discussion for their own sake1 but only those which are most social or most radically human2 and even these can only be discussed among their devotees4 ,a technicality is always welcome to the expert1 whether in athletics1 art1 or law2 ,i have heard the best kind of talk on technicalities from such rare and happy persons as both know and love their business4 ,no human being ever spoke of scenery for above two minutes at a time1 which makes me suspect we hear too much of it in literature4 ,the weather is regarded as the very nadir and scoff of conversational topics4 ,and yet the weather1 the dramatic element in scenery1 is far more tractable in language1 and far more human both in import and suggestion than the stable features of the landscape4 ,sailors and shepherds1 and the people generally of coast and mountain1 talk well of it2 and it is often excitingly presented in literature4 ,but the tendency of all living talk draws it back and back into the common focus of humanity4 ,talk is a creature of the street and market-place1 feeding on gossip2 and its last resort is still in a discussion on morals4 ,that is the heroic form of gossip2 heroic in virtue of its high pretensions2 but still gossip1 because it turns on personalities4 ,you can keep no men long1 nor ,scotchmen at all1 off moral or theological discussion4 ,these are to all the world what law is to lawyers2 they are everybody's technicalities2 the medium through which all consider life1 and the dialect in which they express their judgments4 ,i knew three young men who walked together daily for some two months in a solemn and beautiful forest and in cloudless summer weather2 daily they talked with unabated zest1 and yet scarce wandered that whole time beyond two subjects--theology and love4 ,and perhaps neither a court of love#dj nor an assembly of divines would have granted their premises or welcomed their conclusions4 ,conclusions1 indeed1 are not often reached by talk any more than by private thinking4 ,that is not the profit4 ,the profit is in the exercise1 and above all in the experience2 for when we reason at large on any subject1 we review our state and history in life4 ,from time to time1 however1 and specially1 ,i think1 in talking art1 talk becomes effective1 conquering like war1 widening the boundaries of knowledge like an exploration4 ,a point arises2 the question takes a problematical1 a baffling1 yet a likely air2 the talkers begin to feel lively presentiments of some conclusion near at hand2 towards this they strive with emulous ardour1 each by his own path1 and struggling for first utterance2 and then one leaps upon the summit of that matter with a shout1 and almost at the same moment the other is beside him2 and behold they are agreed4 ,like enough1 the progress is illusory1 a mere cat's cradle having been wound and unwound out of words4 ,but the sense of joint discovery is none the less giddy and inspiriting4 ,and in the life of the talker such triumphs1 though imaginary1 are neither few nor far apart2 they are attained with speed and pleasure1 in the hour of mirth2 and by the nature of the process1 they are always worthily shared4 ,there is a certain attitude combative at once and deferential1 eager to fight yet most averse to quarrel1 which marks out at once the talkable man4 ,it is not eloquence1 not fairness1 not obstinacy1 but a certain proportion of all of these that ,i love to encounter in my amicable adversaries4 ,they must not be pontiffs holding doctrine1 but huntsmen questing after elements of truth4 ,neither must they be boys to be instructed1 but fellow-teachers with whom ,i may wrangle and agree on equal terms4 ,we must reach some solution1 some shadow of consent2 for without that1 eager talk becomes a torture4 ,but we do not wish to reach it cheaply1 or quickly1 or without the tussle and effort ,wherein pleasure lies4 ,the very best talker1 with me1 is one whom ,i shall call ,spring-,heel'd ,jack4 ,i say so1 because ,i never knew any one who mingled so largely the possible ingredients of converse4 ,in the ,spanish proverb1 the fourth man necessary to compound a salad1 is a madman to mix it3 ,jack is that madman4 ,i know not which is more remarkable3 the insane lucidity of his conclusions1 the humorous eloquence of his language1 or his power of method1 bringing the whole of life into the focus of the subject treated1 mixing the conversational salad like a drunken god4 ,he doubles like the serpent1 changes and flashes like the shaken kaleidoscope1 transmigrates bodily into the views of others1 and so1 in the twinkling of an eye and with a heady rapture1 turns questions inside out and flings them empty before you on the ground1 like a triumphant conjuror4 ,it is my common practice when a piece of conduct puzzles me1 to attack it in the presence of ,jack with such grossness1 such partiality and such wearing iteration1 as at length shall spur him up in its defence4 ,in a moment he transmigrates1 dons the required character1 and with moonstruck philosophy justifies the act in question4 ,i can fancy nothing to compare with the vim of these impersonations1 the strange scale of language1 flying from ,shakespeare to ,kant1 and from ,kant to ,major ,dyngwell-- ,as fast as a musician scatters sounds ,out of an instrument-- the sudden1 sweeping generalisations1 the absurd irrelevant particularities1 the wit1 wisdom1 folly1 humour1 eloquence and bathos1 each startling in its kind1 and yet all luminous in the admired disorder of their combination4 ,a talker of a different calibre1 though belonging to the same school1 is ,burly4 ,burly is a man of great presence2 he commands a larger atmosphere1 gives the impression of a grosser mass of character than most men4 ,it has been said of him that his presence could be felt in a room you entered blindfold2 and the same1 ,i think1 has been said of other powerful constitutions condemned to much physical inaction4 ,there is something boisterous and piratic in ,burly's manner of talk which suits well enough with this impression4 ,he will roar you down1 he will bury his face in his hands1 he will undergo passions of revolt and agony2 and meanwhile his attitude of mind is really both conciliatory and receptive2 and after ,pistol has been out-,pistol'd1 and the welkin rung for hours1 you begin to perceive a certain subsidence in these spring torrents1 points of agreement issue1 and you end arm-in-arm1 and in a glow of mutual admiration4 ,the outcry only serves to make your final union the more unexpected and precious4 ,throughout there has been perfect sincerity1 perfect intelligence1 a desire to hear although not always to listen1 and an unaffected eagerness to meet concessions4 ,you have1 with ,burly1 none of the dangers that attend debate with ,spring-,heel'd ,jack2 who may at any moment turn his powers of transmigration on yourself1 create for you a view you never held1 and then furiously fall on you for holding it4 ,these1 at least1 are my two favourites1 and both are loud1 copious1 intolerant talkers4 ,this argues that ,i myself am in the same category2 for if we love talking at all1 we love a bright1 fierce adversary1 who will hold his ground1 foot by foot1 in much our own manner1 sell his attention dearly1 and give us our full measure of the dust and exertion of battle4 ,both these men can be beat from a position1 but it takes six hours to do it2 a high and hard adventure1 worth attempting4 ,with both you can pass days in an enchanted country of the mind1 with people1 scenery and manners of its own2 live a life apart1 more arduous1 active and glowing than any real existence2 and come forth again when the talk is over1 as out of a theatre or a dream1 to find the east wind still blowing and the chimney-pots of the old battered city still around you4 ,jack has the far finer mind1 ,burly the far more honest2 ,jack gives us the animated poetry1 ,burly the romantic prose1 of similar themes2 the one glances high like a meteor and makes a light in darkness2 the other1 with many changing hues of fire1 burns at the sea-level1 like a conflagration2 but both have the same humour and artistic interests1 the same unquenched ardour in pursuit1 the same gusts of talk and thunderclaps of contradiction4 ,cockshot#da is a different article1 but vastly entertaining1 and has been meat and drink to me for many a long evening4 ,his manner is dry1 brisk and pertinacious1 and the choice of words not much4 ,the point about him is his extraordinary readiness and spirit4 ,you can propound nothing but he has either a theory about it ready-made1 or will have one instantly on the stocks1 and proceed to lay its timbers and launch it in your presence4 ,let me see1 he will say4 ,give me a moment4 ,i should have some theory for that4 ,a blither spectacle than the vigour with which he sets about the task1 it were hard to fancy4 ,he is possessed by a demoniac energy1 welding the elements for his life1 and bending ideas1 as an athlete bends a horseshoe1 with a visible and lively effort4 ,he has1 in theorising1 a compass1 an art2 what ,i would call the synthetic gusto2 something of a ,herbert ,spencer1 who should see the fun of the thing4 ,you are not bound1 and no more is he1 to place your faith in these brand-new opinions4 ,but some of them are right enough1 durable even for life2 and the poorest serve for a cock-shy--as when idle people1 after picnics1 float a bottle on a pond and have an hour's diversion ere1 it sinks4 ,whichever they are1 serious opinions or humours of the moment1 he still defends his ventures with indefatigable wit and spirit1 hitting savagely himself1 but taking punishment like a man4 ,he knows and never forgets that people talk1 first of all1 for the sake of talking2 conducts himself in the ring1 to use the old slang1 like a thorough glutton1 and honestly enjoys a telling facer from his adversary4 ,cockshot is bottled effervescency1 the sworn foe of sleep4 ,three-in-the-morning ,cockshot1 says a victim4 ,his talk is like the driest of all imaginable dry champagnes4 ,sleight of hand and inimitable quickness are the qualities by which he lives4 ,athelred1 on the other hand1 presents you with the spectacle of a sincere and somewhat slow nature thinking aloud4 ,he is the most unready man ,i ever knew to shine in conversation4 ,you may see him sometimes wrestle with a refractory jest for a minute or two together1 and perhaps fail to throw it in the end4 ,and there is something singularly engaging1 often instructive1 in the simplicity with which he thus exposes the process as well as the result1 the works as well as the dial of the clock4 ,withal he has his hours of inspiration4 ,apt words come to him as if by accident1 and1 coming from deeper down1 they smack the more personally1 they have the more of fine old crusted humanity1 rich in sediment and humour4 ,there are sayings of his in which he has stamped himself into the very grain of the language2 you would think he must have worn the words next his skin and slept with them4 ,yet it is not as a sayer of particular good things that ,athelred is most to be regarded1 rather as the stalwart woodman of thought4 ,i have pulled on a light cord often enough1 while he has been wielding the broad-axe2 and between us1 on this unequal1 division1 many a specious fallacy has fallen4 ,i have known him to battle the same question night after night for years1 keeping it in the reign of talk1 constantly applying it and re-applying it to life with humorous or grave intention1 and all the while1 never hurrying1 nor flagging1 nor taking an unfair advantage of the facts4 ,jack at a given moment1 when arising1 as it were1 from the tripod1 can be more radiantly just to those from whom he differs2 but then the tenor of his thoughts is even calumnious2 while ,athelred1 slower to forge excuses1 is yet slower to condemn1 and sits over the welter of the world1 vacillating but still judicial1 and still faithfully contending with his doubts4 ,both the last talkers deal much in points of conduct and religion studied in the dry light of prose4 ,indirectly and as if against his will the same elements from time to time appear in the troubled and poetic talk of ,opalstein4 ,his various and exotic knowledge1 complete although unready sympathies1 and fine1 full1 discriminative flow of language1 fit him out to be the best of talkers2 so perhaps he is with some1 not quite with me--proxime accessit1#db ,i should say4 ,he sings the praises of the earth and the arts1 flowers and jewels1 wine and music1 in a moonlight1 serenading manner1 as to the light guitar2 even wisdom comes from his tongue like singing2 no one is1 indeed1 more tuneful in the upper notes4 ,but even while he sings the song of the ,sirens1 he still hearkens to the barking of the ,sphinx4 ,jarring ,byronic notes interrupt the flow of his ,horatian humours4 ,his mirth has something of the tragedy of the world for its perpetual background2 and he feasts like ,don ,giovanni to a double orchestra1 one lightly sounding for the dance1 one pealing ,beethoven in the distance4 ,he is not truly reconciled either with life or with himself2 and this instant war in his members sometimes divides the man's attention4 ,he does not always1 perhaps not often1 frankly surrender himself in conversation4 ,he brings into the talk other thoughts than those which he expresses2 you are conscious that he keeps an eye on something else1 that he does not shake off the world1 nor quite forget himself4 ,hence arise occasional disappointments2 even an occasional unfairness for his companions1 who find themselves one day giving too much1 and the next1 when they are wary out of season1 giving perhaps too little4 ,purcel is in another class from any ,i have mentioned4 ,he is no debater1 but appears in conversation1 as occasion rises1 in two distinct characters1 one of which ,i admire and fear1 and the other love4 ,in the first1 he is radiantly civil and rather silent1 sits on a high1 courtly hilltop1 and from that vantage-ground drops you his remarks like favours4 ,he seems not to share in our sublunary contentions2 he wears no sign of interest2 when on a sudden there falls in a crystal of wit1 so polished that the dull do not perceive it1 but so right that the sensitive are silenced4 ,true talk should have more body and blood1 should be louder1 vainer and more declaratory of the man2 the true talker should not hold so steady an advantage over whom he speaks with2 and that is one reason out of a score why ,i prefer my ,purcel in his second character1 when he unbends into a strain of graceful gossip1 singing like the fireside kettle4 ,in these moods he has an elegant homeliness that rings of the true ,queen ,anne4 ,i know another person who attains1 in his moments1 to the insolence of a ,restoration comedy1 speaking1 ,i declare1 as ,congreve wrote2 but that is a sport of nature1 and scarce falls under the rubric1 for there is none1 alas6 to give him answer4 ,one last remark occurs3 ,it is the mark of genuine conversation that the sayings can scarce be quoted with their full effect beyond the circle of common friends4 ,to have their proper weight they1 should appear in a biography1 and with the portrait of the speaker4 ,good talk is dramatic2 it is like an impromptu piece of acting where each should represent himself to the greatest advantage2 and that is the best kind of talk where each speaker is most fully and candidly himself1 and where1 if you were to shift the speeches1 round from one to another1 there would be the greatest loss in significance and perspicuity4 ,it is for this reason that talk depends so wholly on our company4 ,we should like to introduce ,falstaff and ,mercutio1 or ,falstaff and ,sir ,toby2 but ,falstaff in talk with ,cordelia seems even painful4 ,most of us1 by the ,protean quality of man1 can talk to some degree with all2 but the true talk1 that strikes out all the slumbering best of us1 comes only with the peculiar brethren of our spirits1 is founded as deep as love in the constitution of our being1 and is a thing to relish with all our energy1 while yet we have it1 and to be grateful for forever4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #ch3 ,the first of two papers on this subject written in #ahha-b2 reprinted here1 by permission of the publishers1 from ,memories and ,portraits in the ,biographical ,edition of ,stevenson's ,works1 ,charles ,scribner's ,sons1 #aijg4 ,footnote #ci3 ,kudos 7,greek73 glory4 ,footnote #dj3 ,court of love3 a mediaeval institution for the discussion of questions of chivalry4 ,footnote #da3 ,the ,late ,fleeming ,jenkin--,author's note4 ,footnote #db3 ,proxime accessit3 he comes very close to it4 ,,the ,,social ,,value ,,of ,,the ,,college-,,bred#dc ,,william ,,james ,of what use is a college training8 ,we who have had it seldom hear the question raised--we might be a little nonplussed to answer it offhand4 ,a certain amount of meditation has brought me to this as the pithiest reply which ,i myself can give3 ,the best claim that a college education can possibly make on your respect1 the best thing it can aspire to accomplish for you1 is this3 that it should help you to know a good man when you see him4 ,this is as true of women's as of men's colleges2 but that it is neither a joke nor a one-sided abstraction ,i shall now endeavor to show4 ,what talk do we commonly hear about the contrast between college education and the education which business or technical or professional schools confer8 ,the college education is called higher because it is supposed to be so general and so disinterested4 ,at the schools you get a relatively narrow practical skill1 you are told1 whereas the colleges give you the more liberal culture1 the broader outlook1 the historical perspective1 the philosophic atmosphere1 or something which phrases of that sort try to express4 ,you are made into an efficient instrument for doing a definite thing1 you hear1 at the schools2 but1 apart from that1 you may remain a crude and smoky kind of petroleum1 incapable of spreading light4 ,the universities and colleges1 on the other hand1 although they may leave you less efficient for this or that practical task1 suffuse your whole mentality with something more important than skill4 ,they redeem you1 make you well-bred2 they make good company of you mentally4 ,if they find you with a naturally boorish or caddish mind1 they cannot leave you so1 as a technical school may leave you4 ,this1 at least1 is pretended2 this is what we hear among college-trained people when they compare their education with every other sort4 ,now1 exactly how much does this signify8 ,it is certain1 to begin with1 that the narrowest trade or professional training does something more for a man than to make a skillful practical tool of him--it makes him also a judge of other men's skill4 ,whether his trade be pleading at the bar or surgery or plastering or plumbing1 it develops a critical sense in him for that sort of occupation4 ,he understands the difference between second-rate and first-rate work in his whole branch of industry2 he gets to know a good job in his own line as soon as he sees it2 and getting to know this in his own line1 he gets a faint sense of what good work may mean anyhow1 that may1 if circumstances favor1 spread into his judgments elsewhere4 ,sound work1 clean work1 finished work2 feeble work1 slack work1 sham work--these words express an identical contrast in many different departments of activity4 ,in so far1 then1 even the humblest manual trade may beget in one a certain small degree of power to judge of good work generally4 ,now1 what is supposed to be the line of us who have the higher college training8 ,is there any broader line--since our education claims primarily not to be narrow--in which we also are made good judges between what is first-rate and what is second-rate only8 ,what is especially taught in the colleges has long been known by the name of the humanities1 and these are often identified with ,greek and ,latin4 ,but it is only as literatures1 not as languages1 that ,greek and ,latin have any general humanity-value2 so that in a broad sense the humanities mean literature primarily1 and in a still broader sense the study of masterpieces in almost any field of human endeavor4 ,literature keeps the primacy2 for it not only consists of masterpieces1 but is largely about masterpieces1 being little more than an appreciative chronicle of human master-strokes1 so far as it takes the form of criticism and history4 ,you can give humanistic value to almost anything by teaching it historically4 ,geology1 economics1 mechanics1 are humanities when taught with reference to the successive achievements of the geniuses to which these sciences owe their being4 ,not taught thus1 literature remains grammar1 art a catalogue1 history a list of dates1 and natural science a sheet of formulas and weights and measures4 ,the sifting of human creations6--nothing less than this is what we ought to mean by the humanities4 ,essentially this means biography2 what our colleges should teach is1 therefore1 biographical history1 not that of politics merely1 but of anything and everything so far as human efforts and conquests are factors that have played their part4 ,studying in this way1 we learn what type's of activity have stood the test of time2 we acquire standards of the excellent3 and durable4 ,all our arts and sciences and institutions are but so many quests of perfection on the part of men2 and when we see how diverse the types of excellence may be1 how various the tests1 how flexible the adaptations1 we gain a richer sense of what the terms better and worse may signify in general4 ,our critical sensibilities grow both more acute and less fanatical4 ,we sympathize with men's mistakes even in the act of penetrating them2 we feel the pathos of lost causes and misguided epochs even while we applaud what overcame them4 ,such words are vague and such ideas are inadequate1 but their meaning is unmistakable4 ,what the colleges--teaching humanities by examples which may be special1 but which must be typical and pregnant--should at least try to give us1 is a general sense of what1 under various disguises1 superiority has always signified and may still signify4 ,the feeling for a good human job anywhere1 the admiration of the really admirable1 the disesteem of what is cheap and trashy and impermanent--this is what we call the critical sense1 the sense for ideal values4 ,it is the better part of what men know as wisdom4 ,some of us are wise in this way naturally and by genius2 some of us never become so4 ,but to have spent one's youth at college1 in contact with the choice and rare and precious1 and yet still to be a blind prig or vulgarian1 unable to scent out human excellence or to divine it amid its accidents1 to know it only when ticketed and labeled and forced on us by others1 this indeed should be accounted the very calamity and shipwreck of a higher education4 ,the sense for human superiority ought1 then1 to be considered our line1 as boring subways is the engineer's line and the surgeon's is appendicitis4 ,our colleges ought to have lit up in us a lasting relish for the better kind of man1 a loss of appetite for mediocrities1 and a disgust for cheap-jacks4 ,we ought to smell1 as it were1 the difference of quality in men and their proposals when we enter the world of affairs about us4 ,expertness in this might well atone for some of our awkwardness at accounts1 for some of our ignorance of dynamos4 ,the best claim we can make for the higher education1 the best single phrase in which we can tell what it ought to do for us1 is1 then1 exactly what ,i said3 it should enable us to know a good man when we see him4 ,that the phrase is anything but an empty epigram follows from the fact that if you ask in what line it is most important that a democracy like ours should have its sons and daughters skillful1 you see that it is this line more than any other4 ,the people in their wisdom--this is the kind of wisdom most needed by the people4 ,democracy is on its trial1 and no one knows how it will stand the ordeal4 ,abounding about us are pessimistic prophets4 ,fickleness and violence used to be1 but are no longer1 the vices which they charge to democracy4 ,what its critics now affirm is that its preferences are inveterately for the inferior4 ,so it was in the beginning1 they say1 and so it will be world without end4 ,vulgarity enthroned and institutionalized1 elbowing everything superior from the highway1 this1 they tell us1 is our irremediable destiny2 and the picture papers of the ,european continent are already drawing ,uncle ,sam with the hog instead of the eagle for his heraldic emblem4 ,the privileged aristocracies of the foretime1 with all their iniquities1 did at least preserve some taste for higher human quality and honor certain forms of refinement by their enduring traditions4 ,but when democracy is sovereign1 its doubters say1 nobility will form a sort of invisible church1 and sincerity and refinement1 stripped of honor1 precedence1 and favor1 will have to vegetate on sufferance in private corners4 ,they will have no general influence4 ,they will be harmless eccentricities4 ,now1 who can be absolutely certain that this may not be the career of democracy8 ,nothing future is quite secure2 states enough have inwardly rotted2 and democracy as a whole may undergo self-poisoning4 ,but1 on the other hand1 democracy is a kind of religion1 and we are bound not to admit its failure4 ,faiths and ,utopias are the noblest exercise of human reason1 and no one with a spark of reason in him will sit down fatalistically before the croaker's picture4 ,the best of us are filled with the contrary vision of a democracy stumbling through every error till its institutions glow with justice and its customs shine with beauty4 ,our better men shall show the way and we shall follow them2 so we are brought round again to the mission of the higher education in helping us to know the better kind of man whenever we see him4 ,the notion that a people can run itself and its affairs anonymously is now well known to be the silliest of absurdities4 ,mankind does nothing save through initiatives on the part of inventors1 great or small1 and imitation by the rest of us--these are the sole factors active in human progress4 ,individuals of genius show the way1 and set the patterns1 which common people then adopt and follow4 ,the rivalry of the patterns is the history of the world4 ,our democratic problem thus is statable in ultra-simple terms3 ,who are the kind of men from whom our majorities shall take their cue8 ,whom shall they treat as rightful leaders8 ,we and our leaders are the x and the y of the equation here2 all other historic circumstances1 be they economical1 political1 or intellectual1 are only the background of occasion on which the living drama works itself out between us4 ,in this very simple way does the value of our educated class define itself3 we more than others should be able to divine the worthier and better leaders4 ,the terms here are monstrously simplified1 of course1 but such a bird's-eye view lets us immediately take our bearings4 ,in our democracy1 where everything else is so shifting1 we alumni and alumnae of the colleges are the only permanent presence that corresponds to the aristocracy in older countries4 ,we have continuous traditions1 as they have2 our motto1 too1 is noblesse oblige2 and1 unlike them1 we stand for ideal interests solely1 for we have no corporate selfishness and wield no powers of corruption4 ,we ought to have our own class-consciousness4 ,les intellectuels6 ,what prouder club name could there be than this one1 used ironically by the party of red blood1 the party of every stupid prejudice and passion1 during the anti-,dreyfus craze1 to satirize the men in ,france who still retained some critical sense and judgment6 ,critical sense1 it has to be confessed1 is not an exciting term1 hardly a banner to carry in processions4 ,affections for old habit1 currents of self-interest1 and gales of passion are the forces that keep the human ship moving2 and the pressure of the judicious pilot's hand upon the tiller is a relatively insignificant energy4 ,but the affections1 passions1 and interests are shifting1 successive1 and distraught2 they blow in alternation while the pilot's hand is steadfast4 ,he knows the compass1 and1 with all the leeways he is obliged to tack toward1 he always makes some headway4 ,a small force1 if it never lets up1 will accumulate effects more considerable than those of much greater forces if these work inconsistently4 ,the ceaseless whisper of the more permanent ideals1 the steady tug of truth and justice1 give them but time1 must warp the world in their direction4 ,this bird's-eye view of the general steering function of the college-bred amid the driftings of democracy ought to help us to a wider vision of what our colleges themselves should aim at4 ,if we are to be the yeast cake for democracy's dough1 if we are to make it rise with culture's preferences1 we must see to it that culture spreads broad sails4 ,we must shake the old double reefs out of the canvas into the wind and sunshine1 and let in every modern subject1 sure that any subject will prove humanistic1 if its setting be kept only wide enough4 ,stevenson says somewhere to his reader3 ,you think you are just making this bargain1 but you are really laying down a link in the policy of mankind4 ,well1 your technical school should enable you to make your bargain splendidly2 but your college should show you just the place of that kind of bargain--a pretty poor place1 possibly--in the whole policy of mankind4 ,that is the kind of liberal outlook1 of perspective1 of atmosphere1 which should surround every subject as a college deals with it4 ,we of the colleges must eradicate a curious notion which numbers of good people have about such ancient seats of learning as ,harvard4 ,to many ignorant outsiders1 that name suggests little more than a kind of sterilized conceit and incapacity for being pleased4 ,in ,edith ,wyatt's exquisite book of ,chicago sketches called ,every ,one his ,own ,way1 there is a couple who stand for culture in the sense of exclusiveness1 ,richard ,elliot and his feminine counterpart--feeble caricatures of mankind1 unable to know any good thing when they see it1 incapable of enjoyment unless a printed label gives them leave4 ,possibly this type of culture may exist near ,cambridge and ,boston1 there may be specimens there1 for priggishness is just like painters' colic or any other trade disease4 ,but every good college makes its students immune against this malady1 of which the microbe haunts the neighborhood-printed pages4 ,it does so by its general tone being too hearty for the microbe's life4 ,real culture lives by sympathies and admirations1 not by dislikes and disdains--under all misleading wrappings it pounces unerringly upon the human core4 ,if a college1 through the inferior human influences that have grown regnant there1 fails to catch the robuster tone1 its failure is colossal1 for its social function stops3 democracy gives it a wide berth1 turns toward it a deaf ear4 ,tone1 to be sure1 is a terribly vague word to use1 but there is no other1 and this whole meditation is over questions of tone4 ,by their tone are all things human either lost or saved4 ,if democracy is to be saved it must catch the higher1 healthier tone4 ,if we are to impress it with our preferences1 we ourselves must use the proper tone1 which we1 in turn1 must have caught from our own teachers4 ,it all reverts in the end to the action of innumerable imitative individuals upon each other and to the question of whose tone has the highest spreading power4 ,as a class1 we college graduates should look to it that ours has spreading power4 ,it ought to have the highest spreading power4 ,in our essential function of indicating the better men1 we now have formidable competitors outside4 ,mc,clure's ,magazine1 the ,american ,magazine1 ,collier's ,weekly1 and1 in its fashion1 the ,world's ,work1 constitute together a real popular university along this very line4 ,it would be a pity if any future historian were to have to write words like these3 ,by the middle of the twentieth century the higher institutions of learning had lost all influence over public opinion in the ,united ,states4 ,but the mission of raising the tone of democracy1 which they had proved themselves so lamentably unfitted to exert1 was assumed with rare enthusiasm and prosecuted with extraordinary skill and success by a new educational power2 and for the clarification of their human sympathies and elevation of their human preferences1 the people at large acquired the habit of resorting exclusively to the guidance of certain private literary adventures1 commonly designated in the market by the affectionate name of ten-cent magazines4 ,must not we of the colleges see to it that no historian shall ever say anything like this8 ,vague as the phrase of knowing a good man when you see him may be1 diffuse and indefinite as one must leave its application1 is there any other formula that describes so well the result at which our institutions ought to aim8 ,if they do that1 they do the best thing conceivable4 ,if they fail to do it1 they fail in very deed4 ,it surely is a fine synthetic formula4 ,if our faculties and graduates could once collectively come to realize it as the great underlying purpose toward which they have always been more or less obscurely groping1 great clearness would be shed over many of their problems2 and1 as for their influence in the midst of our social system1 it would embark upon a new career of strength4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #dc3 ,first published in #aijh4 ,reprinted by permission from ,memories and ,studies1 #aiaa4 7,messrs4 ,longmans1 ,green and ,co47 ,,the ,,law ,,of ,,human ,,progress#dd ,,henry ,,george ,what1 then1 is the law of human progress--the law under which civilization advances8 ,it must explain clearly and definitely1 and not by vague generalities or superficial analogies1 why1 though mankind started presumably with the same capacities and at the same time1 there now exist such wide differences in social development4 ,it must account for the arrested civilizations and for the decayed and destroyed civilizations2 for the general facts as to the rise of civilization1 and for the petrifying or enervating force which the progress of civilization has heretofore always evolved4 ,it must account for retrogression a well as for progression2 for the differences in general character between ,asiatic and ,european civilizations2 for the difference between classical and modern civilizations2 for the different rates at which progress goes on2 and for those bursts1 and starts1 and halts of progress which are so marked as minor phenomena4 ,and1 thus1 it must show us what are the essential conditions of progress1 and what social adjustments advance and what retard it4 ,it is not difficult to discover such a law4 ,we have but to look and we may see it4 ,i do not pretend to give it scientific precision1 but merely to point it out4 ,the incentives to progress are the desires inherent in human nature--the desire to gratify the wants of the animal nature1 the wants of the intellectual nature1 and the wants of the sympathetic nature2 the desire to be1 to know1 and to do--desires that short of infinity can never be satisfied1 as they grow by what they feed on4 ,mind is the instrument by which man advances1 and by which each advance is secured and made the vantage ground for new advances4 ,though he may not by taking thought add a cubit to his stature1 man may by taking thought extend his knowledge of the universe and his power over it1 in what1 so far as we can see1 is an infinite degree4 ,the narrow span of human life allows the individual to go but a short distance1 but though each generation may do but little1 yet generations1 succeeding to the gain of their predecessors1 may gradually elevate the status of mankind1 as coral polyps1 building one generation upon the work of the other1 gradually elevate themselves from the bottom of the sea4 ,mental power is1 therefore1 the motor of progress1 and men tend to advance in proportion to the mental power expended in progression--the mental power which is devoted to the extension of knowledge1 the improvement of methods1 and the betterment of social conditions4 ,now mental power is a fixed quantity--that is to say1 there is a limit to the work a man can do with his mind1 as there is to the work he can do with his body2 therefore1 the mental power which can be devoted to progress is only what is left after what is required for non-progressive purposes4 ,these non-progressive purposes in which mental power is consumed may be classified as maintenance and conflict4 ,by maintenance ,i mean1 not only the support of existence1 but the keeping up of the social condition and the holding of advances already gained4 ,by conflict ,i mean not merely warfare and preparation for warfare1 but all expenditure of mental power in seeking the gratification of desire at the expense of others1 and in resistance to such aggression4 ,to compare society to a boat4 ,her progress through the water will not depend upon the exertion of her crew1 but upon the exertion devoted to propelling her4 ,this will be lessened by any expenditure of force required for bailing1 or any expenditure of force in fighting among themselves1 or in pulling in different directions4 ,now1 as in a separated state the whole powers of man are required to maintain existence1 and mental power is set free for higher uses only by the association of men in communities1 which permits the division of labor and all the economies which come with the co-operation of1 increased numbers1 association is the first essential of progress4 ,improvement becomes possible as men come together in peaceful association1 and the wider and closer the association1 the greater the possibilities of improvement4 ,and as the wasteful expenditure of mental power in conflict becomes greater or less as the moral law which accords to each an equality of rights is ignored or is recognized1 equality 7or justice7 is the second essential of progress4 ,thus association in equality is the law of progress4 ,association frees mental power for expenditure in improvement1 and equality1 or justice1 or freedom--for the terms here signify the same thing1 the recognition of the moral law--prevents the dissipation of this power in fruitless struggles4 ,here is the law of progress1 which will explain all diversities1 all advances1 all halts1 and retrogressions4 ,men tend to progress just as they come closer together1 and by co-operation with each other increase the mental power that may be devoted to improvement2 but just as conflict is provoked1 or association develops inequality of condition and power1 this tendency to progression is lessened1 checked1 and finally reversed4 ,given the same innate capacity1 and it is evident that social development will go on faster or slower1 will stop or turn back1 according to the resistances it meets4 ,in a general way these obstacles to improvement may1 in relation to the society itself1 be classed as external and internal--the first operating with greater force in the earlier stages of civilization1 the latter becoming more important in the later stages4 ,man is social in his nature4 ,he does not require to be caught and tamed in order to induce him to live with his fellows4 ,the utter helplessness with which he enters the world1 and the long period required for the maturity of his powers1 necessitate the family relation2 which1 as we may observe1 is wider1 and in its extensions stronger1 among the ruder than among the more cultivated peoples4 ,the first societies are families1 expanding into tribes1 still holding a mutual blood relationship1 and even when they have become great nations claiming a common descent4 ,given beings of this kind1 placed on a globe of such diversified surface and climate as this1 and it is evident that1 even with equal capacity1 and an equal start1 social development must be very different4 ,the first limit or resistance to association will come from the conditions of physical nature1 and as these greatly vary with locality1 corresponding differences in social progress must show themselves4 ,the net rapidity of increase1 and the closeness with which men1 as they increase1 can keep together1 will1 in the rude state of knowledge in which reliance for subsistence must be principally upon the spontaneous offerings of nature1 very largely depend upon climate1 soil1 and physical conformation4 ,where much animal food and warm clothing are required2 where the earth seems poor and niggard2 where the exuberant life of tropical forests mocks barbarous man's puny efforts to control2 where mountains1 deserts1 or arms of the sea separate and isolate men2 association1 and the power of improvement which it evolves1 can at first go but a little way4 ,but on the rich plains of warm climates1 where human existence can be maintained with a smaller expenditure of force1 and from a much smaller area1 men can keep closer together1 and the mental power which can at first be devoted to improvement is much greater4 ,hence civilization naturally first arises in the great valleys and table-lands where we find its earliest monuments4 ,but these diversities in natural conditions1 not merely thus directly produce diversities in social development1 but1 by producing diversities in social development1 bring out in man himself an obstacle1 or rather an active counterforce1 to improvement4 ,as families and tribes are separated from each other1 the social feeling ceases to operate between them1 and differences arise in language1 custom1 tradition1 religion--in short1 in the whole social web which each community1 however small or large1 constantly spins4 ,with these differences1 prejudices grow1 animosities spring up1 contact easily produces quarrels1 aggression begets aggression1 and wrong kindles revenge4#de ,and so between these separate social aggregates arises the feeling of ,ishmael and the spirit of ,cain1 warfare becomes the chronic and seemingly natural relation of societies to each other1 and the powers of men are expended in attack or defense1 in mutual slaughter and mutual destruction of wealth1 or in warlike preparations4 ,how long this hostility persists1 the protective tariffs and the standing armies of the civilized world to-day bear witness2 how difficult it is to get over the idea that it is not theft to steal from a foreigner1 the difficulty in procuring an international copyright act will show4 ,can we wonder at the perpetual hostilities of tribes and clans8 ,can we wonder that when each community was isolated from the others--when each1 uninfluenced by the others1 was spinning its separate web of social environment1 which no individual can escape1 that war should have been the rule and peace the exception8 ,they were even as we are4 ,now1 warfare is the negation of association4 ,the separation of men into diverse tribes1 by increasing warfare1 thus checks improvement2 while in the localities where a large increase in numbers is possible without much separation2 civilization gains the advantage of exemption from tribal war1 even when the community as a whole is carrying on warfare beyond its borders4 ,thus1 where the resistance of nature to the close association of men is slightest1 the counterforce of warfare is likely at first to be least felt2 and in the rich plains where civilization first begins1 it may rise to a great height while scattered tribes are yet barbarous4 ,and thus1 when small1 separated communities exist in a state of chronic warfare which forbids advance1 the first step to their civilization is the advent of some conquering tribe or nation that unites these smaller communities into a larger one1 in which internal peace is preserved4 ,where this power of peaceable association is broken up1 either by external assaults or internal dissensions1 the advance ceases and retrogression begins4 ,but it is not conquest alone that has operated to promote association1 and1 by liberating mental power from the necessities of warfare1 to promote civilization4 ,if the diversities of climate1 soil1 and configuration of the earth's surface operate at first to separate mankind1 they also operate to encourage exchange4 ,and commerce1 which is in itself a form of association or co-operation1 operates to promote civilization1 not only directly1 but by building up interests which are opposed to warfare1 and dispelling the ignorance which is the fertile mother of prejudices and animosities4 ,and so of religion4 ,though the forms it has assumed and the animosities it has aroused have often sundered men and produced warfare1 yet it has at other times been the means of promoting association4 ,a common worship has often1 as among the ,greeks1 mitigated war and furnished the basis of union1 while it is from the triumph of ,christianity over the barbarians of ,europe that modern civilization springs4 ,had not the ,christian ,church existed when the ,roman ,empire went to pieces1 ,europe1 destitute of any bond of association1 might have fallen to a condition not much above that of the ,north ,american ,indians or only received civilization with an ,asiatic impress from the conquering scimiters of the invading hordes which had been welded into a mighty power by a religion which1 springing up in the deserts of ,arabia1 had united tribes separated from time immemorial1 and1 thence issuing1 brought into the association of a common faith a great part of the human race4 ,looking over what we know of the history of the world1 we thus see civilization everywhere springing up where men are brought into association1 and everywhere disappearing as this association is broken up4 ,thus the ,roman civilization1 spread over ,europe by the conquests which insured internal peace1 was overwhelmed by the incursions of the northern nations that broke society again into disconnected fragments2 and the progress that now goes on in our modern civilization began as the feudal system again began to associate men in larger communities1 and the spiritual supremacy of ,rome to bring these communities into a common relation1 as her legions had done before4 ,as the feudal bonds grew into national autonomies1 and ,christianity worked the amelioration of manners1 brought forth the knowledge that during the dark days she had hidden1 bound the threads of peaceful union in her all-pervading organization1 and taught association in her religious orders1 a greater progress became possible1 which1 as men have been brought into closer and closer association and co-operation1 has gone on with greater and greater force4 ,but we shall never understand the course of civilization1 and the varied phenomena which its history presents1 without a consideration of what ,i may term the internal resistances1 or counter forces1 which arise in the heart of advancing society1 and which can alone explain how a civilization once fairly started should either come of itself to a halt or be destroyed by barbarians4 ,the mental power1 which is the motor of social progress1 is set free by association1 which is1--what1 perhaps1 it may be more properly called1--an integration4 ,society in this process becomes more complex2 its individuals more dependent upon each other4 ,occupations and functions are specialized4 ,instead of wandering1 population becomes fixed4 ,instead of each man attempting to supply all of his wants1 the various trades and industries are separated--one man acquires skill in one thing1 and another in another thing4 ,so1 too1 of knowledge1 the body of which constantly tends to become vaster than one man can grasp1 and is separated into different parts1 which different individuals acquire and pursue4 ,so1 too1 the performance of religious ceremonies tends to pass into the hands of a body of men specially devoted to that purpose1 and the preservation of order1 the administration of justice1 the assignment of public duties and the distribution of awards1 the conduct of war1 etc41 to be made the special functions of an organized government4 ,in short1 to use the language in which ,herbert ,spencer has defined evolution1 the development of society is1 in relation to its component individuals1 the passing from an indefinite1 incoherent homogeneity to a definite1 coherent heterogeneity4 ,the lower the stage of social development1 the more society resembles one of those lowest of animal organisms which are without organs or limbs1 and from which a part may be cut and yet live4 ,the higher the stage of social development1 the more society resembles those higher organisms in which functions and powers are specialized1 and each member is vitally dependent on the others4 ,now1 this process of integration1 of the specialization of functions and powers1 as it goes on in society1 is1 by virtue of what is probably one of the deepest laws of human nature1 accompanied by a constant liability to inequality4 ,i do not mean that inequality is the necessary result of social growth1 but that it is the constant tendency of social growth if unaccompanied by changes in social adjustments1 which1 in the new conditions that growth produces1 will secure equality4 ,i mean1 so to speak1 that the garment of laws1 customs1 and political institutions1 which each society weaves for itself1 is constantly tending to become too tight as the society develops4 ,i mean1 so to speak1 that man1 as he advances1 threads a labyrinth1 in which1 if he keeps straight ahead1 he will infallibly lose his way1 and through which reason and justice can alone keep him continuously in an ascending path4 ,for1 while the integration which accompanies growth tends in itself to set free mental power to work improvement1 there is1 both with increase of numbers and with increase in complexity of the social organization1 a counter tendency set up to the production of a state of inequality1 which wastes mental power1 and1 as it increases1 brings improvement to a halt4 ,to trace to its highest expression the law which thus operates to evolve with progress the force which stops progress1 would be1 it seems to me1 to go far to the solution of a problem deeper than that of the genesis of the material universe--the problem of the genesis of evil4 ,let me content myself with pointing out the manner in which1 as society develops1 there arise tendencies which check development4 ,there are two qualities of human nature which it will be well1 however1 to first call to mind4 ,the one is the power of habit3--the tendency to continue to do things in the same way2 the other is the possibility of mental and moral deterioration4 ,the effect of the first in social development is to continue habits1 customs1 laws and methods1 long after they have lost their original usefulness1 and the effect of the other is to permit the growth of institutions and modes of thought from which the normal perceptions of men instinctively revolt4 ,now the growth and development of society not merely tend to make each more and more dependent upon all1 and to lessen the influence of individuals1 even over their own conditions1 as compared with the influence of society2 but the effect of association or integration is to give rise to a collective power which is distinguishable from the sum of individual powers4 ,analogies1 or1 perhaps1 rather illustrations of the same law1 may be found in all directions4 ,as animal organisms increase in complexity1 there arise1 above the life and power of the parts1 a life and power of the integrated whole2 above the capability of involuntary movements1 the capability of voluntary movements4 ,the actions and impulses of bodies of men are1 as has often been observed1 different from those which1 under the same circumstances1 would be called forth in individuals4 ,the fighting qualities of a regiment may be very different from those of the individual soldiers4 ,but there is no need of illustrations4 ,in our inquiries into the nature and rise of rent1 we traced the very thing to which ,i allude4 ,where population is sparse1 land has no value2 just as men congregate together1 the value of land appears and rises--a clearly distinguishable thing from the values produced by individual effort2 a value which springs from association1 which increases as association grows greater1 and disappears as association is broken up4 ,and the same thing is true of power in other forms than those generally expressed in terms of wealth4 ,now1 as society grows1 the disposition to continue previous1 social adjustments tends to lodge this collective power1 as it arises1 in the hands of a portion of the community2 and this unequal distribution of the wealth and power gained as society advances tends to produce greater inequality1 since aggression grows by what it feeds on1 and the idea of justice is blurred by the habitual toleration of injustice4 ,in this way the patriarchal organization of society can easily grow into hereditary monarchy1 in which the king is as a god on earth1 and the masses of the people mere slaves of his caprice4 ,it is natural that the father should be the directing head of the family1 and that at his death the eldest son1 as the oldest and most experienced member of the little community1 should succeed to the headship4 ,but to continue this arrangement as the family expands1 is to lodge power in a particular line1 and the power thus lodged necessarily continues to increase1 as the common stock becomes larger and larger1 and the power of the community grows4 ,the head of the family passes into the hereditary king1 who comes to look upon himself and to be looked upon by others as a being of superior rights4 ,with the growth of the collective power as compared with the power of the individual1 his power to reward and to punish increases1 and so increase the inducements to flatter and to fear him2 until finally1 if the process be not disturbed1 a nation grovels at the foot of a throne1 and a hundred thousand men toil for fifty years to prepare a tomb for one of their own mortal kind4 ,so the war-chief of a little band of savages is but one of their number1 whom they follow as their bravest and most wary4 ,but when large bodies come to act together1 personal selection becomes more difficult1 a blinder obedience becomes necessary and can be enforced1 and from the very necessities of warfare when conducted on a large scale absolute power arises4 ,and so of the specialization of function4 ,there is a manifest gain in productive power when social growth has gone so far that instead of every producer being summoned from his work for fighting purposes1 a regular military force can be specialized2 but this inevitably tends to the concentration of power in the hands of the military class or their chiefs4 ,the preservation of internal order1 the administration of justice1 the construction and care of public works1 and1 notably1 the observances of religion1 all tend in similar manner to pass into the hands of special classes1 whose disposition it is to magnify their function and extend their power4 ,but the great cause of inequality is in the natural monopoly which is given by the possession of land4 ,the first perceptions of men seem always to be that land is common property2 but the rude devices by which this is at first recognized--such as annual partitions or cultivation in common--are consistent with only a low stage of development4 ,the idea of property1 which naturally arises with reference to things of human production1 is easily transferred to land1 and an institution which when population is sparse merely secures to the improver and user the due reward of his labor1 finally1 as population becomes dense and rent arises1 operates to strip the producer of his wages4 ,not merely this1 but the appropriation of rent for public purposes1 which is the only way in which1 with anything like a high development1 land can be readily retained as common property1 becomes1 when political and religious power passes into the hands of a class1 the ownership of the land by that class1 and the rest of the community become merely tenants4 ,and wars and conquests1 which tend to the concentration of political power and to the institution of slavery1 naturally result1 where social growth has given land a value1 in the appropriation of the soil4 ,a dominant class1 who concentrate power in their hands1 will likewise soon concentrate ownership of the land4 ,to them will fall large partitions of conquered land1 which the former inhabitants will till as tenants or serfs1 and the public domain1 or common lands1 which in the natural course of social growth are left for a while in every country1 and in which state the primitive system of village culture leaves pasture and woodland1 are readily acquired1 as we see by modern instances4 ,and inequality once established1 the ownership of land tends to concentrate as development goes on4 ,i am merely attempting to set forth the general fact that as a social development goes on1 inequality tends to establish itself1 and not to point out the particular sequence1 which must necessarily vary with different conditions4 ,but this main fact makes intelligible all the phenomena of petrifaction and retrogression4 ,the unequal distribution of the power and wealth gained by the integration of men in society tends to check1 and finally to counterbalance1 the force by which improvements are made and society advances4 ,on the one side1 the masses of the community are compelled to expend their mental powers in merely maintaining existence4 ,on the other side1 mental power is expended in keeping up and intensifying the system of inequality1 in ostentation1 luxury1 and warfare4 ,a community divided into a class that rules and a class that is ruled--into the very rich and the very poor--may build like giants and finish like jewelers2 but it will be monuments of ruthless pride and barren vanity1 or of a religion turned from its office of elevating man into an instrument for keeping him down4 ,invention may for a while to some degree go on2 but it will be the invention of refinements in luxury1 not the inventions that relieve toil and increase power4 ,in the arcana of temples or in the chambers of court physicians knowledge may still be sought2 but it will be hidden as a secret thing1 or if it dares come out to elevate common thought or brighten common life1 it will be trodden down as a dangerous innovator4 ,for as it tends to lessen the mental power devoted to improvement1 so does inequality tend to render men adverse to improvement4 ,how strong is the disposition to adhere to old methods among the classes who are kept in ignorance by being compelled to toil for a mere existence1 is too well known to require illustration1 and on the other hand the conservatism of the classes to whom the existing social adjustment gives special advantages is equally apparent4 ,this tendency to resist innovation1 even though it be improvement1 is observable in every special organization--in religion1 in law1 in medicine1 in science1 in trade guilds2 and it becomes intense just as the organization is close4 ,a close corporation has always an instinctive dislike of innovation and innovators1 which is but the expression of an instinctive fear that change may tend to throw down the barriers which hedge it in from the common herd1 and so rob it of importance and power2 and it is always disposed to guard carefully its special knowledge or skill4 ,it is in this way that petrifaction succeeds progress4 ,the advance of inequality necessarily brings improvement to a halt1 and as it still persists or provokes unavailing reactions1 draws even upon the mental power necessary for maintenance1 and retrogression begins4 ,these principles make intelligible the history of civilization4 ,in the localities where climate1 soil1 and physical conformation tended least to separate men as they increased1 and where1 accordingly1 the first civilizations grew up1 the internal resistances to progress would naturally develop in a more regular and thorough manner than where smaller communities1 which in their separation had developed diversities1 were afterward brought together into a closer association4 ,it is this1 it seems to me1 which accounts for the general characteristics of the earlier civilizations as compared with the later civilizations of ,europe4 ,such homogeneous communities1 developing from the first without the jar of conflict between different customs1 laws1 religions1 etc41 would show a much greater uniformity4 ,the concentrating and conservative forces would all1 so to speak1 pull together4 ,rival chieftains would not counterbalance each other1 nor diversities of belief hold the growth of priestly influence in check4 ,political and religious power1 wealth and knowledge1 would thus tend to concentrate in the same centres4 ,the same causes which tended to produce the hereditary king and hereditary priest would tend to produce the hereditary artisan and laborer1 and to separate society into castes4 ,the power which association sets free for progress would thus be wasted1 and barriers to further progress be gradually raised4 ,the surplus energies of the masses would be devoted to the construction of temples1 palaces1 and pyramids2 to ministering to the pride and pampering the luxury of their rulers2 and should any disposition to improvement arise among the classes of leisure it would at once be checked by the dread of innovation4 ,society developing in this way must at length stop in a conservatism which permits no further progress4 ,how long such a state of complete petrifaction1 when once reached1 will continue1 seems to depend upon external causes1 for the iron bonds of the social environment which grows up repress disintegrating forces as well as improvement4 ,such a community can be most easily conquered1 for the masses of the people are trained to a passive acquiescence in a life of hopeless labor4 ,if the conquerors merely take the place of the ruling class1 as the ,hyksos did in ,egypt and the ,tartars in ,china1 everything will go on as before4 ,if they ravage and destroy1 the glory of palace and temple remains but in ruins1 population becomes sparse1 and knowledge and art are lost4 ,european civilization differs in character from civilizations of the ,egyptian type because it springs not from the association of a homogeneous people developing from the beginning1 or at least for a long time1 under the same conditions1 but from the association of peoples who in separation had acquired distinctive social characteristics1 and whose smaller organizations longer prevented the concentration of power and wealth in one centre4 ,the physical conformation of the ,grecian peninsula is such as to separate the people at first into a number of small communities4 ,as those petty republics and nominal kingdoms ceased to waste their energies in warfare1 and the peaceable co-operation of commerce extended1 the light of civilization blazed up4 ,but the principle of association was never strong enough to save ,greece from inter-tribal war1 and when this was put an end to by conquest1 the tendency to inequality1 which had been combated with various devices by ,grecian sages and statesmen1 worked its result1 and ,grecian valor1 art1 and literature became things of the past4 ,and so in the rise and extension1 the decline and fall1 of ,roman civilization1 may be seen the working of these two principles of association and equality1 from the combination of which springs progress4 ,springing from the association of the independent husbandmen and free citizens of ,italy1 and gaining fresh strength from conquests which brought hostile nations into common relations1 the ,roman power hushed the world in peace4 ,but the tendency to inequality1 checking real progress from the first1 increased as the ,roman civilization extended4 ,the ,roman civilization did not petrify as did the homogeneous civilizations where the strong bonds of custom and superstition that held the people in subjection probably also protected them1 or at any rate kept the peace between rulers and ruled3 it rotted1 declined and fell4 ,long before ,goth or ,vandal had broken through the cordon of the legions1 even while her frontiers were advancing1 ,rome was dead at the heart4 ,great estates had ruined ,italy4 ,inequality had dried up the strength and destroyed the vigor of the ,roman world4 ,government became despotism1 which even assassination could not temper2 patriotism became servility2 vices the most foul flouted themselves in public2 literature sank to puerilities2 learning was forgotten2 fertile districts became waste without the ravages of war--everywhere inequality produced decay1 political1 mental1 moral1 and material4 ,the barbarism which overwhelmed ,rome came not from without1 but from within4 ,it was the necessary product of the system which had substituted slaves and colonii for the independent husbandmen of ,italy1 and carved the provinces into estates of senatorial families4 ,modern civilization owes its superiority to the growth of equality with the growth of association4 ,two great causes contributed to this--the splitting up of concentrated power into innumerable little centers by the influx of the ,northern nations1 and the influence of ,christianity4 ,without the first there would have been the petrifaction and slow decay of the ,eastern ,empire1 where church and state were closely married and loss of external power brought no relief of internal tyranny4 ,and but for the other there would have been barbarism without principle of association or amelioration4 ,the petty chiefs and allodial lords who everywhere grasped local sovereignty held each other in check4 ,italian cities recovered their ancient liberty1 free towns were founded1 village communities took root1 and serfs acquired rights in the soil they tilled4 ,the leaven of ,teutonic ideas of equality worked through the disorganized and disjointed fabric of society4 ,and although society was split up into an innumerable number of separated fragments1 yet the idea of closer association was always present--it existed in the recollections of a universal empire2 it existed in the claims of a universal church4 ,though ,christianity became distorted and alloyed in percolating through a rotting civilization2 though pagan gods were taken into her pantheon1 and pagan forms into her ritual1 and pagan ideas into her creed2 yet her essential idea of the equality of men was never wholly destroyed4 ,and two things happened of the utmost moment to incipient civilization--the establishment of the papacy and the celibacy of the clergy4 ,the first prevented the spiritual power from concentrating in the same lines as the temporal power2 and the latter prevented the establishment of a priestly caste1 during a time when all power tended to hereditary form4 ,in her efforts for the abolition of slavery2 in her ,truce of ,god2 in her monastic orders2 in her councils which united nations1 and her edicts which ran without regard to political boundaries2 in the low-born hands in which she placed a sign before which the proudest knelt2 in her bishops who by consecration became the peers of the greatest nobles2 in her ,servant of ,servants1 for so his official title ran1 who1 by virtue of the ring of a simple fisherman1 claimed the right to arbitrate between nations1 and whose stirrup was held by kings2 the ,church1 in spite of everything1 was yet a promoter of association1 a witness for the natural equality of men2 and by the ,church herself was nurtured a spirit that1 when her early work of association and emancipation was well-nigh done--when the ties she had knit had become strong1 and the learning she had preserved had been given to the world--broke the chains with which she would have fettered the human mind1 and in a great part of ,europe rent her organization4 ,the rise and growth of ,european civilization is too vast and complex a subject to be thrown into proper perspective and relation in a few paragraphs2 but in all its details1 as in its main features1 it illustrates the truth that progress goes on just as society tends toward closer association and greater equality4 ,civilization is co-operation4 ,union and liberty are its factors4 ,the great extension of association--not alone in the growth of larger and denser communities1 but in the increase of commerce and the manifold exchanges which knit each community together and link them with other though widely separated communities2 the growth of international and municipal law2 the advances in security of property and of person1 in individual liberty1 and towards democratic government--advances1 in short1 towards the recognition of the equal rights to life1 liberty1 and the pursuit of happiness--it is these that make our modern civilization so much greater1 so much higher1 than any that has gone before4 ,it is these that have set free the mental power which has rolled back the veil of ignorance which hid all but a small portion of the globe from men's knowledge2 which has measured the orbits of the circling spheres and bids us see moving1 pulsing life in a drop of water2 which has opened to us the antechamber of nature's mysteries and read the secrets of a long-buried past2 which has harnessed in our service physical forces beside which man's efforts are puny2 and increased productive power by a thousand great inventions4 ,in that spirit of fatalism to which ,i have alluded as pervading current literature1 it is the fashion to speak even of war and slavery as means of human progress4 ,but war1 which is the opposite of association1 can aid progress only when it prevents further war or breaks down antisocial barriers which are themselves passive war4 ,as for slavery1 ,i cannot see how it could ever have aided in establishing freedom1 and freedom1 the synonym of equality is1 from the very rudest state in which man can be imagined1 the stimulus and condition of progress4 ,auguste ,comte's idea that the institution of slavery destroyed cannibalism is as fanciful as ,elia's humorous notion of the way mankind acquired a taste for roast pig4 ,it assumes that a propensity that has never been found developed in man save as the result of the most unnatural conditions--the direst want or the most brutalizing superstitions#df--;is an original impulse1 and that he1 even in his lowest state the highest of all animals1 has natural appetites which the nobler brutes do not show4 ,and so of the idea that slavery began civilization by giving slave owners leisure for improvement4 ,slavery never did and never could aid improvement4 ,whether the community consist of a single master and a single slave1 or of thousands of masters and millions of slaves1 slavery necessarily involves a waste of human power2 for not only is slave labor less productive than free labor1 but the power of masters is likewise wasted in holding and watching their slaves1 and is called away from directions in which real improvement lies4 ,from first to last1 slavery1 like every other denial of the natural equality of men1 has hampered and prevented progress4 ,just in proportion as slavery plays an important part in the social organization does improvement cease4 ,that in the classical world slavery was so universal1 is undoubtedly the reason why the mental activity which so polished literature and refined art never hit on any of the great discoveries and inventions which distinguish modern civilization4 ,no slave-holding people ever were an inventive people4 ,in a slave-holding community the upper classes may become luxurious and polished2 but never inventive4 ,whatever degrades the laborer and robs him of the fruits of his toil stifles the spirit of invention and forbids the utilization of inventions and discoveries even when made4 ,to freedom alone is given the spell of power which summons the genii in whose keeping are the treasures of earth and the viewless forces of the air4 ,the law of human progress1 what is it but the moral law8 ,just as social adjustments promote justice1 just as they acknowledge the equality of right between man and man1 just as they insure to each the perfect liberty which is bounded only by the equal liberty of every other1 must civilization advance4 ,just as they fail in this1 must advancing civilization come to a halt and recede4 ,political economy and social science cannot teach any lessons that are not embraced in the simple truths that were taught to poor fishermen and ,jewish peasants by ,one who eighteen hundred years ago was crucified--the simple truths which1 beneath the warpings of selfishness and the distortions of superstition1 seem to underlie every religion that has ever striven to formulate the spiritual yearnings of man4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #dd3 ,chapter ,,iii1 ,book ,x1 of ,progress and ,poverty2 copyright1 #aijg1 by ,henry ,george1 ,richard ,f4 ,george1 and ,anna ,g4 de ,mille4 ,the chapter is here reprinted by permission of ,mr4 ,henry ,george1 ,junior1 and the publishers1 ,messrs4 ,doubleday1 ,page and ,company4 ,footnote #de3 ,how easy it is for ignorance to pass into contempt and dislike2 how natural it is for us to consider any difference in manners1 customs1 religion1 etc41 as proof of the inferiority of those who differ from us1 any one who has emancipated himself in any degree from prejudice1 and who mixes with different classes1 may see in civilized society4 ,in religion1 for instance1 the spirit of the hymn-- ,i'd rather be a ,baptist1 and wear a shining face1 ,than for to be a ,methodist and always fall from grace1 is observable in all denominations4 ,as the ,english ,bishop said1 ,orthodoxy is my doxy1 and heterodoxy is any other doxy1 while the universal tendency is to classify all outside of the orthodoxies and heterodoxies of the prevailing religion as heathens or atheists4 ,and the like tendency is observable as to all other differences4--,author's note4 ,footnote #df3 ,the ,sandwich ,islanders did honor to their good chiefs by eating their bodies4 ,their bad and tyrannical chiefs they would not touch4 ,the ,new ,zealanders had a notion that by eating their enemies they acquired their strength and valor4 ,and this seems to be the general origin of eating prisoners of war4--,author's note4 ,,the ,,morals ,,of ,,trade#dg ,,herbert ,,spencer ,on all sides we have found the result of long personal experience1 to be the conviction that trade is essentially corrupt4 ,in tones of disgust or discouragement1 reprehension or derision1 according to their several natures1 men in business have one after another expressed or implied this belief4 ,omitting the highest mercantile classes1 a few of the less common trades1 and those exceptional cases where an entire command of the market has been obtained1 the uniform testimony of competent judges is1 that success is incompatible with strict integrity4 ,to live in the commercial world it appears necessary to adopt its ethical code3 neither exceeding nor falling short of it--neither being less honest nor more honest4 ,those who sink below its standard are expelled2 while those who rise above it are either pulled down to it or ruined4 ,as1 in self-defence1 the civilised man becomes savage among savages2 so1 it seems that in self-defence1 the scrupulous trader is obliged to become as little scrupulous as his competitors4 ,it has been said that the law of the animal creation is--,eat and be eaten2 and of our trading community it may be similarly said that its law is--,cheat and be cheated4 ,a system of keen competition1 carried on1 as it is1 without adequate moral restraint1 is very much a system of commercial cannibalism4 ,its alternatives are--,use the same weapons as your antagonists1 or be conquered and devoured4 ,of questions suggested by these facts1 one of the most obvious is--,are not the prejudices that have ever been entertained against trade and traders1 thus fully justified8 do not these meannesses and dishonesties1 and the moral degradation they imply1 warrant the disrespect shown to men in business8 ,a prompt affirmative answer will probably be looked for2 but we very much doubt whether it should be given4 ,we are rather of opinion that these delinquencies are products of the average ,english character placed under special conditions4 ,there is no good reason for assuming that the trading classes are intrinsically worse than other classes4 ,men taken at random from higher and lower ranks1 would1 most likely1 if similarly circumstanced1 do much the same4 ,indeed the mercantile world might readily recriminate4 ,is it a solicitor who comments on their misdoings8 ,they may quickly silence him by referring to the countless dark stains on the reputation of his fraternity4 ,is it a barrister8 ,his frequent practice of putting in pleas which he knows are not valid2 and his established habit of taking fees for work that he does not perform2 make his criticism somewhat suicidal4 ,does the condemnation come through the press8 ,the condemned may remind those who write1 of the fact that it is not quite honest to utter a positive verdict on a book merely glanced through1 or to pen glowing eulogies on the mediocre work of a friend while slighting the good one of an enemy2 and may further ask whether those who1 at the dictation of an employer1 write what they disbelieve1 are not guilty of the serious offence of adulterating public opinion4 ,moreover1 traders might contend that many of their delinquencies are thrust on them by the injustice of their customers4 ,they1 and especially drapers1 might point to the fact that the habitual demand for an abatement of price1 is made in utter disregard of their reasonable profits2 and that to protect themselves against attempts to gain by their loss1 they are obliged to name prices greater than those they intend to take4 ,they might also urge that the strait to which they are often brought by the non-payment of accounts due from their wealthier customers1 is itself a cause of their malpractices3 obliging them1 as it does1 to use all means1 illegitimate as well as legitimate1 for getting the wherewith to meet their engagements4 ,in proof of the wrongs inflicted on them by the non-trading classes1 they might instance the well-known cases of large shopkeepers in the ,west-end1 who have been either ruined by the unpunctuality of their customers1 or have been obliged periodically to stop payment1 as the only way of getting their bills settled4 ,and then1 after proving that those without excuse show this disregard of other men's claims1 traders might ask whether they1 who have the excuse of having to contend with a merciless competition1 are alone to be blamed if they display a like disregard in other forms4 ,nay1 even to the guardians of social rectitude--members of the legislature--they might use the tu quoque argument3 asking whether bribery of a customer's servant1 is any worse than bribery of an elector8 or whether the gaining of suffrages by claptrap hustings-speeches1 containing insincere professions adapted to the taste of the constituency1 is not as bad as getting an order for goods by delusive representations respecting their quality8 ,no2 it seems probable that close inquiry would show few if any classes to be free from immoralities that are as great1 relatively to the temptations1 as those which we have been exposing4 ,of course they will not be so petty or so gross where the circumstances do not prompt pettiness or grossness2 nor so constant and organised where the class-conditions have not tended to make them habitual4 ,but1 taken with these qualifications1 we think that much might be said for the proposition that the trading classes1 neither better nor worse intrinsically than other classes1 are betrayed into their flagitious habits by external causes4 ,another question1 here naturally arising1 is--,are not these evils growing worse8 ,many of the facts we have cited seem to imply that they are4 ,and yet there are many other facts which point as distinctly the other way4 ,in weighing the evidence1 we must bear in mind1 that the much greater public attention at present paid to such matters1 is itself a source of error--is apt to generate the belief that evils now becoming recognised1 are evils that have recently arisen2 when in truth they have merely been hitherto disregarded1 or less regarded4 ,it has been clearly thus with crime1 with distress1 with popular ignorance2 and it is very probably thus with trading-dishonesties4 ,as it is true of individual beings1 that their height in the scale of creation may be measured by the degree of their self-consciousness2 so1 in a sense1 it is true of societies4 ,advanced and highly-organised societies are distinguished from lower ones by the evolution of something that stands for a social self-consciousness--a consciousness in each citizen1 of the state of the aggregate of citizens4 ,among ourselves there has1 happily1 been of late years a remarkable growth of this social self-consciousness2 and we believe that to this is chiefly ascribable the impression that commercial malpractices are increasing4 ,such facts as have come down to us respecting the trade of past times1 confirm this view4 ,in his ,complete ,english ,tradesman1 ,defoe mentions1 among other manoeuvres of retailers1 the false lights which they introduced into their shops1 for the purpose of giving delusive appearances to their goods4 ,he comments on the shop rhetorick1 the flux of falsehoods1 which tradesmen habitually uttered to their customers2 and quotes their defence as being that they could not live without lying4 ,he says1 too1 that there was scarce a shopkeeper who had not a bag of spurious or debased coin1 from which he gave change whenever he could2 and that men1 even the most honest1 triumphed in their skill in getting rid of bad money4 ,these facts show that the mercantile morals of that day were1 at any rate1 not better than ours2 and if we call to mind the numerous ,acts of ,parliament passed in old times to prevent frauds of all kinds1 we perceive the like implication4 ,as much may1 indeed1 be safely inferred from the general state of society4 ,when1 reign after reign1 governments debased the coinage1 the moral tone of the middle classes could scarcely have been higher than now4 ,among generations whose sympathy with the claims of fellow-creatures was so weak1 that the slave-trade was not only thought justifiable1 but the initiator of it was rewarded by permission to record the feat in his coat of arms1 it is hardly possible that men respected the claims of their fellow-citizens more than at present4 ,times characterized by an administration of justice so inefficient that there were in ,london nests of criminals who defied the law1 and on all high roads robbers who eluded it1 cannot have been distinguished by just mercantile dealings4 ,while1 conversely1 an age which1 like ours1 has seen so many equitable social changes thrust on the legislature by public opinion1 is very unlikely to be an age in which the transactions between individuals have been growing more inequitable4 ,yet1 on the other hand1 it is undeniable that many of the dishonesties we have described are of modern origin4 ,not a few of them have become established during the last thirty years2 and others are even now arising4 ,how are the seeming contradictions to be reconciled8 ,we believe the reconciliation is not difficult4 ,it lies in the fact that while the great and direct frauds have been diminishing1 the small and indirect frauds have been increasing3 alike in variety and in number4 ,and this admission we take to be quite consistent with the opinion that the standard of commercial morals is higher than it was4 ,for1 if we omit1 as excluded from the question1 the penal restraints--religious and legal--and ask what is the ultimate moral restraint to the aggression of man on man1 we find it to be--sympathy with the pain inflicted4 ,now the keenness of the sympathy1 depending on the vividness with which this pain is realised1 varies with the conditions of the case4 ,it may be active enough to check misdeeds which will cause great suffering2 and yet not be active enough to check misdeeds which will cause but slight annoyance4 ,while sufficiently acute to prevent a man from doing that which will entail immediate injury on a given person1 it may not be sufficiently acute to prevent him from doing that which will entail remote injuries on unknown persons4 ,and we find the facts to agree with this deduction1 that the moral restraint varies according to the clearness with which the evil consequences are conceived4 ,many a one who would shrink from picking a pocket does not scruple to adulterate his goods2 and he who never dreams of passing base coin1 will yet be a party to joint-stock-bank deceptions4 ,hence1 as we say1 the multiplication of the more subtle and complex forms of fraud1 is consistent with a general progress in morality2 provided it is accompanied with a decrease in the grosser forms of fraud4 ,but the question which most concerns us is1 not whether the morals of trade are better or worse than they have been1 but rather--why are they so bad8 ,why in this civilised state of ours1 is there so much that betrays the cunning selfishness of the savage8 ,why1 after the careful inculcations of rectitude during education1 comes there in afterlife all this knavery8 ,why1 in spite of all the exhortations to which the commercial classes listen every ,sunday1 do they next morning recommence their evil deeds8 ,what is this so potent agency which almost neutralises the discipline of education1 of law1 of religion8 ,various subsidiary causes that might be assigned1 must be passed over1 that we may have space to deal with the chief cause4 ,in an exhaustive statement1 something would have to be said on the credulity of consumers1 which leads them to believe in representations of impossible advantages2 and something1 too1 on their greediness1 which1 ever prompting them to look for more than they ought to get1 encourages the sellers to offer delusive bargains4 ,the increased difficulty of living consequent on growing pressure of population1 might perhaps come in as a part cause2 and that greater cost of bringing up a family1 which results from the higher standard of education1 might be added4 ,but all these are relatively insignificant4 ,the great inciter of these trading malpractices is1 intense desire for wealth4 ,and if we ask--,why this intense desire8 the reply is--,it results from the indiscriminate respect paid to wealth4 ,to be distinguished from the common herd--to be somebody--to make a name1 a position--this is the universal ambition2 and to accumulate riches1 is alike the surest and the easiest way of fulfilling this ambition4 ,very early in life all learn this4 ,at school1 the court paid to one whose parents have called in their carriage to see him1 is conspicuous2 while the poor boy1 whose insufficient stock of clothes implies the small means of his family1 soon has burnt into his memory the fact that poverty is contemptible4 ,on entering the world1 the lessons that may have been taught about the nobility of self-sacrifice1 the reverence due to genius1 the admirableness of high integrity1 are quickly neutralised by experience3 men's actions proving that these are not their standards of respect4 ,it is soon perceived that while abundant outward marks of deference from fellow-citizens1 may almost certainly be gained by directing every energy to the accumulation of property1 they are but rarely to be gained in any other way2 and that even in the few cases where they are otherwise gained1 they are not given with entire unreserve2 but are commonly joined with a more or less manifest display of patronage4 ,when1 seeing this1 the young man further sees that while the acquisition of property is quite possible with his mediocre endowments1 the acquirement of distinction by brilliant discoveries1 or heroic acts1 or high achievements in art1 implies faculties and feelings which he does not possess2 it is not difficult to understand why he devotes himself heart and soul to business4 ,we do not mean to say that men act on the consciously reasoned-out conclusions thus indicated2 but we mean that these conclusions are the unconsciously-formed products of their daily experience4 ,from early childhood1 the sayings and doings of all around them have generated the idea that wealth and respectability are two sides of the same thing4 ,this idea1 growing with their growth1 and strengthening with their strength1 becomes at last almost what we may call an organic conviction4 ,and this organic conviction it is1 which prompts the expenditure of all their energies in money-making4 ,we contend that the chief stimulus is not the desire for the wealth itself2 but for the applause and position which the wealth brings4 ,and in this belief1 we find ourselves at one with various intelligent traders with whom we have talked on the matter4 ,it is incredible that men should make the sacrifices1 mental and bodily1 which they do1 merely to get the material benefits which money purchases4 ,who would undertake an extra burden of business for the purpose of getting a cellar of choice wines for his own drinking8 ,he who does it1 does it that he may have choice wines to give his guests and gain their praises4 ,what merchant would spend an additional hour at his office daily1 merely that he might move into a larger house in a better quarter8 ,in so far as health and comfort are concerned1 he knows he will be a loser by the exchange2 and would never be induced to make it1 were it not for the increased social consideration which the new house will bring him4 ,where is the man who would lie awake at nights devising means of increasing his income in the hope of being able to provide his wife with a carriage1 were the use of the carriage the sole consideration8 ,it is because of the clat which the carriage will give1 that he enters on these additional anxieties4 ,so manifest1 so trite1 indeed1 are these truths1 that we should be ashamed of insisting on them1 did not our argument require it4 ,for if the desire for that homage which wealth brings1 is the chief stimulus to these strivings after wealth1 then is the giving of this homage 7when given1 as it is1 with but little discrimination7 the chief cause of the dishonesties into which these strivings betray mercantile men4 ,when the shopkeeper1 on the strength of a prosperous year and favourable prospects1 has yielded to his wife's persuasions1 and replaced the old furniture with new1 at an outlay greater than his income covers--when1 instead of the hoped-for increase1 the next year brings a decrease in his returns--when he finds that his expenses are out-running his revenue2 then does he fall under the strongest temptation to adopt some newly-introduced adulteration or other malpractice4 ,when1 having by display gained a certain recognition1 the wholesale trader begins to give dinners appropriate only to those of ten times his income1 with expensive other entertainments to match--when1 having for a time carried on this style at a cost greater than he can afford1 he finds that he cannot discontinue it without giving up his position3 then is he most strongly prompted to enter into larger transactions2 to trade beyond his means2 to seek undue credit2 to get into that ever-complicating series of misdeeds1 which ends in disgraceful bankruptcy4 ,and if these are the facts--the undeniable facts--then is it an unavoidable conclusion that the blind admiration which society gives to mere wealth1 and the display of wealth1 is the chief source of these multitudinous immoralities4 ,yes1 the evil is deeper than appears--draws its nutriment from far below the surface4 ,this gigantic system of dishonesty1 branching out into every conceivable form of fraud1 has roots that run underneath our whole social fabric1 and1 sending fibres into every house1 suck up strength from our daily sayings and doings4 ,in every dining-room a rootlet finds food1 when the conversation turns on ,so-and-so's successful speculations1 his purchase of an estate1 his probable worth--on this man's recent large legacy1 and the other's advantageous match2 for being thus talked about is one form of that tacit respect which men struggle for4 ,every drawing-room furnishes nourishment1 in the admiration awarded to costliness--to silks that are rich1 that is1 expensive2 to dresses that contain an enormous quantity of material1 that is1 are expensive2 to laces that are handmade1 that is1 expensive2 to diamonds that are rare1 that is1 expensive2 to china that is old1 that is1 expensive4 ,and from scores of small remarks and minutiae of behaviour1 which1 in all circles1 hourly imply how completely the idea of respectability involves that of costly externals1 there is drawn fresh pabulum4 ,we are all implicated4 ,we all1 whether with self-approbation or not1 give expression to the established feeling4 ,even he who disapproves this feeling1 finds himself unable to treat virtue in threadbare apparel with a cordiality as great as that which he would show to the same virtue endowed with prosperity4 ,scarcely a man is to be found who would not behave with more civility to a knave in broadcloth than to a knave in fustian4 ,though for the deference which they have shown to the vulgar rich1 or the dishonestly successful1 men afterwards compound with their consciences by privately venting their contempt2 yet when they again come face to face with these imposing externals covering worthlessness1 they do as before4 ,and so long as imposing worthlessness gets the visible marks of respect1 while the disrespect felt for it is hidden1 it naturally flourishes4 ,hence1 then1 is it that men persevere in these evil practices which all condemn4 ,they can so purchase a homage1 which if not genuine1 is yet1 so far as appearances go1 as good as the best4 ,to one whose wealth has been gained by a life of frauds1 what matters it that his name is in all circles a synonym of roguery8 ,has he not been conspicuously honoured by being twice elected mayor of his town8 7we state a fact7 and does not this1 joined to the personal consideration shown him1 outweigh in his estimation all that is said against him3 of which he hears scarcely anything8 ,when1 not many years after the exposure of his inequitable dealing1 a trader attains to the highest civic distinction which the kingdom has to offer2 and that1 too1 through the instrumentality of those who best know his delinquency2 is not the fact an encouragement to him1 and to all others1 to sacrifice rectitude to aggrandisement8 ,if1 after listening to a sermon that has by implication denounced the dishonesties he has been guilty of1 the rich ill-doer finds1 on leaving church1 that his neighbours cap to him2 does not this tacit approval go far to neutralise the effect of all he has heard8 ,the truth is1 that with the great majority of men1 the visible expression of social opinion is far the most efficient of incentives and restraints4 ,let any one who wishes to estimate the strength of this control1 propose to himself to walk through the streets in the dress of a dustman1 or hawk vegetables from door to door4 ,let him feel1 as he probably will1 that he had rather do something morally wrong than commit such a breach of usage1 and suffer the resulting derision4 ,and he will then better estimate how powerful a curb to men is the open disapproval of their fellows2 and how1 conversely1 the outward applause of their fellows is a stimulus surpassing all others in intensity4 ,fully realising which facts1 he will see that the immoralities of trade are in great part traceable to an immoral public opinion4 ,let none infer1 from what has been said1 that the payment of respect to wealth rightly acquired and rightly used1 is deprecated4 ,in its original meaning1 and in due degree1 the feeling which prompts such respect is good4 ,primarily1 wealth is the sign of mental power2 and this is always respectable4 ,to have honestly-acquired property1 implies intelligence1 energy1 self-control2 and these are worthy of the homage that is indirectly paid to them by admiring their results4 ,moreover1 the good administration and increase of inherited property1 also requires its virtues2 and therefore demands its share of approbation4 ,and besides being applauded for their display of faculty1 men who gain and increase wealth are to be applauded as public benefactors4 ,for he who as manufacturer or merchant1 has1 without injustice to others1 realised a fortune1 is thereby proved to have discharged his functions better than those who have been less successful4 ,by greater skill1 better judgment1 or more economy than his competitors1 he has afforded the public greater advantages4 ,his extra profits are but a share of the extra produce obtained by the same expenditure3 the other share going to the consumers4 ,and similarly1 the landowner who1 by judicious outlay1 has increased the value 7that is1 the productiveness7 of his estate1 has thereby added to the stock of national capital4 ,by all means1 then1 let the right acquisition and proper use of wealth1 have their due share of admiration4 ,but that which we condemn as the chief cause of commercial dishonesty1 is the indiscriminate admiration of wealth--an admiration that has little or no reference to the character of the possessor4 ,when1 as very generally happens1 the external signs are reverenced1 where they signify no internal worthiness--nay1 even where they cover internal unworthiness2 then does the feeling become vicious4 ,it is this idolatry which worships the symbol apart from the thing symbolised1 that is the root of all these evils we have been exposing4 ,so long as men pay homage to those social benefactors who have grown rich honestly1 they give a wholesome stimulus to industry2 but when they accord a share of their homage to those social malefactors who have grown rich dishonestly1 then do they foster corruption--then do they become accomplices in all these frauds of commerce4 ,as for remedy1 it manifestly follows that there is none save a purified public opinion4 ,when that abhorrence which society now shows to direct theft1 is shown to theft of all degrees of indirectness1 then will these mercantile vices disappear4 ,when not only the trader who adulterates or gives short measure1 but also the merchant who over-trades1 the bank-director who countenances an exaggerated report1 and the railway-director who repudiates his guarantee1 come to be regarded as of the same genus as the pickpocket1 and are treated with like disdain2 then will the morals of trade become what they should be4 ,we have little hope1 however1 that any such higher tone of public opinion will shortly be reached4 ,the present condition of things appears to be1 in great measure1 a necessary accompaniment of our present phase of progress4 ,throughout the civilised world1 especially in ,england1 and above all in ,america1 social activity is almost wholly expended in material development4 ,to subjugate ,nature1 and bring the powers of production and distribution to their highest perfection1 is the task of our age2 and probably of many future ages4 ,and as in times when national defence and conquest were the chief desiderata1 military achievement was honoured above all other things2 so now1 when the chief desideratum is industrial growth1 honour is most conspicuously given to that which generally indicates the aiding of industrial growth4 ,the ,english nation at present displays what we may call the commercial diathesis2 and the undue admiration for wealth appears to be its concomitant--a relation still more conspicuous in the worship of the almighty dollar by the ,americans4 ,and while the commercial diathesis1 with its accompanying standard of distinction1 continues1 we fear the evils we have been delineating can be but partially cured4 ,it seems hopeless to expect that men will distinguish between that wealth which represents personal superiority and benefits done to society1 from that which does not4 ,the symbols1 the externals1 have all the world through swayed the masses2 and must long continue to do so4 ,even the cultivated1 who are on their guard against the bias of associated ideas1 and try to separate the real from the seeming1 cannot escape the influence of current opinion4 ,we must1 therefore1 content ourselves with looking for a slow amelioration4 ,something1 however1 may even now be done by vigorous protest against adoration of mere success4 ,and it is important that it should be done1 considering how this vicious sentiment is being fostered4 ,when we have one of our leading moralists preaching1 with increasing vehemence1 the doctrine of sanctification by force--when we are told that while a selfishness troubled with qualms of conscience is contemptible1 a selfishness intense enough to trample down every thing in the unscrupulous pursuit of its ends1 is worthy of all admiration--when we find that if it be sufficiently great1 power1 no matter of what kind or how directed1 is held up for our reverence2 we may fear lest the prevalent applause of mere success1 together with the commercial vices which it stimulates1 should be increased rather than diminished4 ,not at all by this hero-worship grown into brute-worship1 is society to be made better2 but by exactly the opposite--by a stern criticism of the means through which success has been achieved2 and by according honour to the higher and less selfish modes of activity4 ,and happily the signs of this more moral public opinion are already showing themselves4 ,it is becoming a tacitly-received doctrine that the rich should not1 as in by-gone times1 spend their lives in personal gratification2 but should devote them to the general welfare4 ,year by year is the improvement of the people occupying a larger share of the attention of the upper classes4 ,year by year are they voluntarily devoting more and more energy to furthering the material and mental progress of the masses4 ,and those among them who do not join in the discharge of these high functions1 are beginning to be looked upon with more or less contempt by their own order4 ,this latest and most hopeful fact in human history--this new and better chivalry--promises to evolve a higher standard of honour2 and so to ameliorate many evils3 among others those which we have detailed4 ,when wealth obtained by illegitimate means inevitably brings nothing but disgrace--when to wealth rightly acquired is accorded only its due share of homage1 while the greatest homage is given to those who consecrate their energies and their means to the noblest ends2 then may we be sure that along with other accompanying benefits1 the morals of trade will be greatly purified4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #dg3 ,from ,essays3 ,moral1 ,political and ,aesthetic1 #ahfd4 ,,on ,,the ,,physical ,,basis ,,of ,,life#dh ,,thomas ,,henry ,,huxley ,in order to make the title of this discourse generally intelligible1 ,i have translated the term ,protoplasm1 which is the scientific name of the substance of which ,i am about to speak1 by the words the physical basis of life4 ,i suppose that1 to many1 the idea that there is such a thing as a physical basis1 or matter1 of life may be novel--so widely spread is the conception of life as a something which works through matter1 but is independent of it2 and even those who are aware that matter and life are inseparably connected1 may not be prepared for the conclusion plainly suggested by the phrase1 the physical basis or matter of life1 that there is some one kind of matter which is common to all living beings1 and that their endless diversities are bound together by a physical1 as well as an ideal1 unity4 ,in fact1 when first apprehended1 such a doctrine as this appears almost shocking to common sense4 ,what1 truly1 can seem to be more obviously different from one another1 in faculty1 in form1 and in substance1 than the various kinds of living beings8 ,what community of faculty can there be between the brightly-coloured lichen1 which so nearly resembles a mere mineral incrustation of the bare rock on which it grows1 and the painter1 to whom it is instinct with beauty1 or the botanist1 whom it feeds with knowledge8 ,again1 think of the microscopic fungus--a mere infinitesimal ovoid particle1 which finds space and duration enough to multiply into countless millions in the body of a living fly2 and then of the wealth of foliage1 the luxuriance of flower and fruit1 which lies between this bald sketch of a plant and the giant pine of ,california1 towering to the dimensions of a cathedral spire1 or the ,indian fig1 which covers acres with its profound shadow1 and endures while nations and empires come and go around its vast circumference4 ,or1 turning to the other half of the world of life1 picture to yourselves the great ,finner whale1 hugest of beasts that live1 or have lived1 disporting his eighty or ninety feet of bone1 muscle1 and blubber1 with easy roll1 among waves in which the stoutest ship that ever left dockyard would flounder hopelessly2 and contrast him with the invisible animalcules--mere gelatinous specks1 multitudes of which could1 in fact1 dance upon the point of a needle with the same ease as the angels of the ,schoolmen could1 in imagination4 ,with these images before your minds1 you may well ask1 what community of form1 or structure1 is there between the animalcule and the whale2 or between the fungus and the fig-tree8 ,and1 fortiori#di1 between all four8 ,finally1 if we regard substance1 or material composition1 what hidden bond can connect the flower which a girl wears in her hair and the blood which courses through her youthful veins2 or1 what is there in common between the dense and resisting mass of the oak1 or the strong fabric of the tortoise1 and those broad disks of glassy jelly which may be seen pulsating through the waters of a calm sea1 but which drain away to mere films in the hand which raises them out of their element8 ,such objections as these must1 ,i think1 arise in the mind of every one who ponders1 for the first time1 upon the conception of a single physical basis of life underlying all the diversities of vital existence2 but ,i propose to demonstrate to you that1 notwithstanding these apparent difficulties1 a threefold unity--namely1 a unity of power or faculty1 a unity of form1 and a unity of substantial composition--does pervade the whole living world4 ,no very abstruse argumentation is needed1 in the first place1 to prove that the powers1 or faculties1 of all kinds of living matter1 diverse as they may be in degree1 are substantially similar in kind4 ,goethe has condensed a survey of all powers of mankind into the well-known epigram3-- ,warum treibt sich das ,volk so und schreit8 ,es will sich ernhren1 ,kinder zeugen1 und die nhren so gut es vermag4 99 99 99 99 99 ,weiter bringt es kein ,mensch1 stell' er sich wie er auch will4#ej ,in physiological language this means1 that all the multifarious and complicated activities of man are comprehensible under three categories4 ,either they are immediately directed towards the maintenance and development of the body1 or they effect transitory changes in the relative positions of parts of the body1 or they tend towards the continuance of the species4 ,even those manifestions of intellect1 of feeling1 and of will1 which we rightly name the higher faculties1 are not excluded from this classification1 inasmuch as to every one but the subject of them1 they are known only as transitory changes in the relative positions of parts of the body4 ,speech1 gesture1 and every other form of human action are1 in the long run1 resolvable into muscular contraction1 and muscular contraction is but a transitory change in the relative positions of the parts of a muscle4 ,but the scheme which is large enough to embrace the activities of the highest form of life1 covers all those of the lower creatures4 ,the lowest plant1 or animalcule1 feeds1 grows1 and reproduces its kind4 ,in addition1 all animals manifest those transitory changes of form which we class under irritability and contractility2 and it is more than probable that when the vegetable world is thoroughly explored1 we shall find all plants in possession of the same powers1 at one time or other of their existence4 ,i am not now alluding to such phenomena1 at once rare and conspicuous1 as those exhibited by the leaflets of the sensitive plants1 or the stamens of the barberry1 but to much more widely spread1 and at the same time1 more subtle and hidden1 manifestions of vegetable contractility4 ,you are doubtless aware that the common nettle owes its stinging property to the innumerable stiff and needle-like1 though exquisitely delicate1 hairs which cover its surface4 ,each stinging-needle tapers from a broad base to a slender summit1 which1 though rounded at the end1 is of such microscopic fineness that it readily penetrates1 and breaks off in1 the skin4 ,the whole hair consists of a very delicate outer case of wood1 closely applied to the inner surface of which is a layer of semi-fluid matter1 full of innumerable granules of extreme minuteness4 ,this semi-fluid lining is protoplasm1 which thus constitutes a kind of bag1 full of a limpid liquid1 and roughly corresponding in form with the interior of the hair which it fills4 ,when viewed with a sufficiently high magnifying power1 the protoplasmic layer of the nettle hair is seen to be in a condition of unceasing activity4 ,local contractions of the whole thickness of its substance pass slowly and gradually from point to point1 and give rise to the appearance of progressive waves1 just as the bending of successive stalks of corn by a breeze produces the apparent billows of a corn-field4 ,but1 in addition to these movements1 and independently of them1 the granules are driven1 in relatively rapid streams1 through channels in the protoplasm which seem to have a considerable amount of persistence4 ,most commonly1 the currents in adjacent parts of the protoplasm take similar directions2 and1 thus1 there is a general stream up one side of the hair and down the other4 ,but this does not prevent the existence of partial currents which take different routes2 and sometimes trains of granules may be seen coursing swiftly in opposite directions within a twenty-thousandth of an inch of one another2 while1 occasionally1 opposite streams come into direct collision1 and1 after a longer or shorter struggle1 one predominates4 ,the cause of these currents seems to lie in contractions of the protoplasm which bounds the channels in which they flow1 but which are so minute that the best microscopes show only their effects1 and not themselves4 ,the spectacle afforded by the wonderful energies prisoned within the compass of the microscopic hair of a plant1 which we commonly regard as a merely passive organism1 is not easily forgotten by one who has watched its display1 continued hour after hour1 without pause or sign of weakening4 ,the possible complexity of many other organic forms1 seemingly as simple as the protoplasm of the nettle1 dawns upon one2 and the comparison of such a protoplasm to a body with an internal circulation1 which has been put forward by an eminent physiologist1 loses much of its startling character4 ,currents similar to those of the hairs of the nettle have been observed in a great multitude of very different plants1 and weighty authorities have suggested that they probably occur1 in more or less perfection1 in all young vegetable cells4 ,if such be the case1 the wonderful noonday silence of a tropical forest is1 after all1 due only to the dullness of our hearing2 and could our ears catch the murmur of these tiny ,maelstroms1 as they whirl in the innumerable myriads of living cells which constitute each tree1 we should be stunned1 as with the roar of a great city4 ,among the lower plants1 it is the rule rather than the exception1 that contractility should be still more openly manifested at some periods of their existence4 ,the protoplasm of ,algae and ,fungi becomes1 under many circumstances1 partially1 or completely1 freed from its woody case1 and exhibits movements of its whole mass1 or is propelled by the contractility of one1 or more1 hair-like prolongations of its body1 which are called vibratile cilia4 ,and1 so far as the conditions of the manifestation of the phenomena of contractility have yet been studied1 they are the same for the plant as for the animal4 ,heat and electric shocks influence both1 and in the same way1 though it may be in different degrees4 ,it is by no means my intention to suggest that there is no difference in faculty between the lowest plant and the highest1 or between plants and animals4 ,but the difference between the powers of the lowest plant1 or animal1 and those of the highest1 is one of degree1 not of kind1 and depends1 as ,milne-,edwards long ago so well pointed out1 upon the extent to which the principle of the division of labour is carried out in the living economy4 ,in the lowest organism all parts are competent to perform all functions1 and one and the same portion of protoplasm may successfully take on the function of feeding1 moving1 or reproducing apparatus4 ,in the highest1 on the contrary1 a great number of parts combine to perform each function1 each part doing its allotted share of the work with great accuracy and efficiency1 but being useless for any other purpose4 ,on the other hand1 notwithstanding all the fundamental resemblances which exist between the powers of the protoplasm in plants and in animals1 they present a striking difference 7to which ,i shall advert more at length presently71 in the fact that plants can manufacture fresh protoplasm out of mineral compounds1 whereas animals are obliged to procure it ready made1 and hence1 in the long run1 depend upon plants4 ,upon what condition this difference in the powers of the two great divisions of the world of life depends1 nothing is at present known4 ,with such qualifications as arise out of the last-mentioned fact1 it may be truly said that the acts of all living things are fundamentally one4 ,is any such unity predicable of their forms8 ,let us seek in easily verified facts for a reply to this question4 ,if a drop of blood be drawn by pricking one's finger1 and viewed with proper precautions1 and under a sufficiently high microscopic power1 there will be seen1 among the innumerable multitude of little1 circular1 discoidal bodies1 or corpuscles1 which float in it and give it its colour1 a comparatively small number of colourless corpuscles1 of somewhat larger size and very irregular shape4 ,if the drop of blood be kept at the temperature of the body1 these colourless corpuscles will be seen to exhibit a marvellous activity1 changing their forms with great rapidity1 drawing in and thrusting out prolongations of their substance1 and creeping about as if they were independent organisms4 ,the substance which is thus active is a mass of protoplasm1 and its activity differs in detail1 rather than in principle1 from that of the protoplasm of the nettle4 ,under sundry circumstances the corpuscle dies and becomes distended into a round mass1 in the midst of which is seen a smaller spherical body1 which existed1 but was more or less hidden1 in the living corpuscle1 and is called its nucleus4 ,corpuscles of essentially similar structure are to be found in the skin1 in the lining of the mouth1 and scattered through the whole framework of the body4 ,nay1 more3 in the earliest condition of the human organism1 in that state in which it has but just become distinguishable from the egg in which it arises1 it is nothing but an aggregation of such corpuscles1 and every organ of the body was1 once1 no more than such an aggregation4 ,thus a nucleated mass of protoplasm turns out to be what may be termed the structural unit of the human body4 ,as a matter of fact1 the body1 in its earliest state1 is a mere multiple of such units2 and in its perfect condition1 it is a multiple of such units1 variously modified4 ,but does the formula which expresses the essential structural character of the highest animal cover all the rest1 as the statement of its powers and faculties covered that of all others8 ,very nearly4 ,beast and fowl1 reptile and fish1 mollusk1 worm1 and polype1 are all composed of structural units of the same character1 namely1 masses of protoplasm with a nucleus4 ,there are sundry very low animals1 each of which1 structurally1 is a mere colourless blood-corpuscle1 leading an independent life4 ,but1 at the very bottom of the animal scale1 even this simplicity becomes simplified1 and all the phenomena of life are manifested by a particle of protoplasm without a nucleus4 ,nor are such organisms insignificant by reason of their want of complexity4 ,it is a fair question whether the protoplasm of those simplest forms of life1 which people an immense extent of the bottom of the sea1 would not outweigh that of all the higher living beings which inhabit the land put together4 ,and in ancient times1 no less than at the present day1 such living beings as these have been the greatest of rock builders4 ,what has been said of the animal world is no less true of plants4 ,imbedded in the protoplasm at the broad1 or attached1 end of the nettle hair1 there lies a spheroidal nucleus4 ,careful examination further proves that the whole substance of the nettle is made up of a repetition of such masses of nucleated protoplasm1 each contained in a wooden case1 which is modified in form1 sometimes into a woody fibre1 sometimes into a duct or spiral vessel1 sometimes into a pollen grain1 or an ovule4 ,traced back to its earliest state1 the nettle arises as the man does1 in a particle of nucleated protoplasm4 ,and in the lowest plants1 as in the lowest animals1 a single mass of such protoplasm may constitute the whole plant1 or the protoplasm may exist without a nucleus4 ,under these circumstances it may well be asked1 how is one mass of non-nucleated protoplasm to be distinguished from another8 why call one plant and the other animal8 ,the only reply is that1 so far as form is concerned1 plants and animals are not separable1 and that1 in many cases1 it is a mere matter of convention whether we call a given organism an animal or a plant4 ,there is a living body called ,aethalium septicum1 which appears upon decaying vegetable substances1 and1 in one of its forms1 is common upon the surfaces of tan-pits4 ,in this condition it is1 to all intents and purposes1 a fungus1 and formerly was always regarded as such2 but the remarkable investigations of ,de ,bary have shown that1 in another condition1 the ,aethalium is an actively locomotive creature1 and takes in solid matters1 upon which1 apparently1 it feeds1 thus exhibiting the most characteristic feature of animality4 ,is this a plant2 or is it an animal8 ,is it both2 or is it neither8 ,some decide in favour of the last supposition1 and establish an intermediate kingdom1 a sort of biological ,no ,man's ,land for all these questionable forms4 ,but1 as it is admittedly impossible to draw any distinct boundary line between this no man's land and the vegetable world on the one hand1 or the animal on the other1 it appears to me that this proceeding merely doubles the difficulty which1 before1 was single4 ,protoplasm1 simple or nucleated1 is the formal basis of all life4 ,it is the clay of the potter3 which1 bake it and paint it as he will1 remains clay1 separated by artifice1 and not by nature1 from the commonest brick or sun-dried clod4 ,thus it becomes clear that all living powers are cognate1 and that all living forms are fundamentally of one character4 ,the researches of the chemist have revealed a no less striking uniformity of material composition in living matter4 ,in perfect strictness1 it is true that chemical investigation can tell us little or nothing1 directly1 of the composition of living matter1 inasmuch as such matter must needs die in the act of analysis1--and upon this very obvious ground1 objections1 which ,i confess seem to me to be somewhat frivolous1 have been raised to the drawing of any conclusions whatever respecting the composition of actually living matter1 from that of the dead matter of life1 which alone is accessible to us4 ,but objectors of this class do not seem to reflect that it is also1 in strictness1 true that we know nothing about the composition of any body whatever1 as it is4 ,the statement that a crystal of calc-spar consists of carbonate of lime1 is quite true1 if we only mean that1 by appropriate processes1 it may be resolved into carbonic acid and quicklime4 ,if you pass the same carbonic acid over the very quicklime thus obtained1 you will obtain carbonate of lime again2 but it will not be calc-spar1 nor anything like it4 ,can it1 therefore1 be said that chemical analysis teaches nothing about the chemical composition of calc-spar8 ,such a statement would be absurd2 but it is hardly more so than the talk one occasionally hears about the uselessness of applying the results of chemical analysis to the living bodies which have yielded them4 ,one fact1 at any rate1 is out of reach of such refinements1 and this is1 that all the forms of protoplasm which have yet been examined contain the four elements1 carbon1 hydrogen1 oxygen1 and nitrogen1 in very complex union1 and that they behave similarly towards several reagents4 ,to this complex combination1 the nature of which has never been determined with exactness1 the name of ,protein has been applied4 ,and if we use this term with such caution as may properly arise out of our comparative ignorance of the things for which it stands1 it may be truly said that all protoplasm is proteinaceous1 or1 as the white1 or albumen1 of an egg is one of the commonest examples of a nearly pure proteine matter1 we may say that all living matter is more or less albuminoid4 ,perhaps it would not yet be safe to say that all forms of protoplasm are affected by the direct action of electric shocks2 and yet the number of cases in which the contraction of protoplasm is shown to be affected by this agency increases every day4 ,nor can it be affirmed with perfect confidence1 that all forms of protoplasm are liable to undergo that peculiar coagulation at a temperature of #dj-ej ,centigrade1 which has been called heat-stiffening1 though ,khne's beautiful researches have proved this occurrence to take place in so many and such diverse living beings1 that it is hardly rash to expect that the law holds good for all4 ,enough has1 perhaps1 been said1 to prove the existence of a general uniformity in the character of the protoplasm1 or physical basis1 of life1 in whatever group of living beings it may be studied4 ,but it will be understood that this general uniformity by no means excludes any amount of special modifications of the fundamental substance4 ,the mineral1 carbonate of lime1 assumes an immense diversity of characters1 though no one doubts that1 under all these ,protean changes1 is one and the same thing4 ,and now1 what is the ultimate fate1 and what the origin1 of the matter of life8 ,is it1 as some of the older naturalists supposed1 diffused throughout the universe in molecules1 which are indestructible and unchangeable in themselves2 but1 in endless transmigration1 unite in innumerable permutations1 into the diversified forms of life we know8 ,or1 is the matter of life composed of ordinary matter1 differing from it only in the manner in which its atoms are aggregated8 ,is it built up of ordinary matter1 and again resolved into ordinary matter when its work is done8 ,modern science does not hesitate a moment between these alternatives4 ,physiology writes over the portals of life-- ,debemur morti nos nostraque1#ea with a profounder meaning than the ,roman poet attached to that melancholy line4 ,under whatever disguise it takes refuge1 whether fungus or oak1 worm or man1 the living protoplasm not only ultimately dies and is resolved into its mineral and lifeless constituents1 but is always dying1 and1 strange as the paradox may sound1 could not live unless it died4 ,in the wonderful story of the ,peau de ,chagrin1 the hero becomes possessed of a magical wild ass' skin1 which yields him the means of gratifying all his wishes4 ,but its surface represents the duration of the proprietor's life2 and for every satisfied desire the skin shrinks in proportion to the intensity of fruition1 until at length life and the last handbreath of the peau de chagrin1 disappear with the gratification of a last wish4 ,balzac's studies had led him over a wide range of thought and speculation1 and his shadowing forth of physiological truth in this strange story may have been intentional4 ,at any rate1 the matter of life is a veritable peau de chagrin1 and for every vital act it is somewhat the smaller4 ,all work implies waste1 and the work of life results1 directly or indirectly1 in the waste of protoplasm4 ,every word uttered by a speaker costs him some physical loss2 and1 in the strictest sense1 he burns that others may have light--so much eloquence1 so much of his body resolved into carbonic acid1 water1 and urea4 ,it is clear that this process of expenditure cannot go on forever4 ,but1 happily1 the protoplasmic peau de chagrin differs from ,balzac's in its capacity of being repaired1 and brought back to its full size1 after every exertion4 ,for example1 this present lecture1 whatever its intellectual worth to you1 has a certain physical value to me1 which is1 conceivably1 expressible by the number of grains of protoplasm and other bodily substance wasted in maintaining my vital processes during its delivery4 ,my peau de chagrin will be distinctly smaller at the end of the discourse than it was at the beginning4 ,by and by1 ,i shall probably have recourse to the substance commonly called mutton1 for the purpose of stretching it back to its original size4 ,now this mutton was once the living protoplasm1 more or less modified1 of another animal--a sheep4 ,as ,i shall eat it1 it is the same matter altered1 not only by death1 but by exposure to sundry artificial operations in the process of cooking4 ,but these changes1 whatever be their extent1 have not rendered it incompetent to resume its old functions as matter of life4 ,a singular inward laboratory1 which ,i possess1 will dissolve a certain portion of the modified protoplasm2 the solution so formed will pass into my veins2 and the subtle influences to which it will then be subjected will convert the dead protoplasm into living protoplasm1 and transubstantiate sheep into man4 ,nor is this all4 ,if digestion were a thing to be trifled with1 ,i might sup upon lobster1 and the matter of life of the crustacean would undergo the same wonderful metamorphosis into humanity4 ,and were ,i to return to my own place by sea1 and undergo shipwreck1 the crustacean might1 and probably would1 return the compliment1 and demonstrate our common nature by turning my protoplasm into living lobster4 ,or1 if nothing better were to be had1 ,i might supply my wants with mere bread1 and ,i should find the protoplasm of the wheat-plant to be convertible into man with no more trouble than that of the sheep1 and with far less1 ,i fancy1 than that of the lobster4 ,hence it appears to be a matter of no great moment what animal1 or what plant1 ,i lay under contribution for protoplasm1 and the fact speaks volumes for the general identity of that substance in all living beings4 ,i share this catholicity of assimilation with other animals1 all of which1 so far as we know1 could thrive equally well on the protoplasm of any of their fellows1 or of any plant2 but here the assimilative powers of the animal world cease4 ,a solution of smelling-salts in water1 with an infinitesimal proportion of some other saline matters1 contains all the elementary bodies which enter into the composition of protoplasm2 but1 as ,i need hardly say1 a hogshead of that fluid would not keep a hungry man from starving1 nor would it save any animal whatever from a like fate4 ,an animal cannot make protoplasm1 but must take it ready-made from some other animal1 or some plant--the animal's highest feat of constructive chemistry being to convert dead protoplasm into that living matter of life which is appropriate to itself4 ,therefore1 in seeking for the origin of protoplasm1 we must eventually turn to the vegetable world4 ,a fluid containing carbonic acid1 water1 and nitrogenous salts1 which offers such a ,barmecide feast#eb to the animal1 is a table richly spread to multitudes of plants2 and1 with a due supply of only such materials1 many a plant will not only maintain itself in vigour1 but grow and multiply until it has increased a million-fold1 or a million million-fold1 the quantity of protoplasm which it originally possessed2 in this way building up the matter of life1 to an indefinite extent1 from the common matter of the universe4 ,thus1 the animal can only raise the complex substance of dead protoplasm to the higher power1 as one may say1 of living protoplasm2 while the plant can raise the less complex substances--carbonic acid1 water1 and nitrogenous salts--to the same stage of living protoplasm1 if not to the same level4 ,but the plant also has its limitations4 ,some of the fungi1 for example1 appear to need higher compounds to start with2 and no known plant can live upon the uncompounded elements of protoplasm4 ,a plant supplied with pure carbon1 hydrogen1 oxygen1 and nitrogen1 phosphorus1 sulphur1 and the like1 would as infallibly die as the animal in his bath of smelling-salts1 though it would be surrounded by all the constituents of protoplasm4 ,nor1 indeed1 need the process of simplification of vegetable food be carried so far as this1 in order to arrive at the limit of the plant's thaumaturgy4 ,let water1 carbonic acid1 and all the other needful constituents be supplied except nitrogenous salts1 and an ordinary plant will still be unable to manufacture protoplasm4 ,thus the matter of life1 so far as we know it 7and we have no right to speculate on any other71 breaks up1 in consequence of that continual death which is the condition of its manifesting vitality1 into carbonic acid1 water1 and nitrogenous compounds1 which certainly possess no properties but those of ordinary matter4 ,and out of these same forms of ordinary matter1 and from none which are simpler1 the vegetable world builds up all the protoplasm which keeps the animal world a-going4 ,plants are the accumulators of the power which animals distribute and disperse4 ,but it will be observed1 that the existence of the matter of life depends on the pre-existence of certain compounds2 namely1 carbonic acid1 water1 and certain nitrogenous bodies4 ,withdraw any one of these three from the world1 and all vital phenomena come to an end4 ,they are as necessary to the protoplasm of the plant1 as the protoplasm of the plant is to that of the animal4 ,carbon1 hydrogen1 oxygen1 and nitrogen are all lifeless bodies4 ,of these1 carbon and oxygen unite in certain proportions and under certain conditions1 to give rise to carbonic acid2 hydrogen and oxygen produce water2 nitrogen and other elements give rise to nitrogenous salts4 ,these new compounds1 like the elementary bodies of which they are composed1 are lifeless4 ,but when they are brought together1 under certain conditions1 they give rise to the still more complex body1 protoplasm1 and this protoplasm exhibits the phenomena of life4 ,i see no break in this series of steps in molecular complication1 and ,i am unable to understand why the language which is applicable to any one term of the series may not be used to any of the others4 ,we think fit to call different kinds of matter carbon1 oxygen1 hydrogen1 and nitrogen1 and to speak of the various powers and activities of these substances as the properties of the matter of which they are composed4 ,when hydrogen and oxygen are mixed in a certain proportion1 and an electric spark is passed through them1 they disappear1 and a quantity of water1 equal in weight to the sum of their weights1 appears in their place4 ,there is not the slightest parity between the passive and active powers of the water and those of the oxygen and hydrogen which have given rise to it4 ,at #cb ,fahrenheit1 and far below that temperature1 oxygen and hydrogen are elastic gaseous bodies1 whose particles tend to rush away from one another with great force4 ,water1 at the same temperature1 is a strong though brittle solid1 whose particles tend to cohere into definite geometrical shapes1 and sometimes build up frosty imitations of the most complex forms of vegetable foliage4 ,nevertheless we call these1 and many other strange phenomena1 the properties of the water1 and we do not hesitate to believe that1 in some way or another1 they result from the properties of the component elements of the water4 ,we do not assume that a something called aquosity entered into and took possession of the oxidated hydrogen as soon as it was formed1 and then guided the aqueous particles to their places in the facets of the crystal1 or amongst the leaflets of the hoar-frost4 ,on the contrary1 we live in the hope and in the faith that1 by the advance of molecular physics1 we shall by and by be able to see our way as clearly from the constituents of water to the properties of water1 as we are now able to deduce the operations of a watch from the form of its parts and the manner in which they are put together4 ,is the case in any way changed when carbonic acid1 water1 and nitrogenous salts disappear1 and in their place1 under the influence of pre-existing living protoplasm1 an equivalent weight of the matter of life makes its appearance8 ,it is true that there is no sort of parity between the properties of the components and the properties of the resultant1 but neither was there in the case of the water4 ,it is also true that what ,i have spoken of as the influence of pre-existing living matter is something quite unintelligible2 but does anybody quite comprehend the modus operandi#ec of an electric spark1 which traverses a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen8 ,what justification is there1 then1 for the assumption of the existence in the living matter of a something which has no representative1 or correlative1 in the not living matter which gave rise to it8 ,what better philosophical status has vitality than aquosity8 ,and why should vitality hope for a better fate than the other itys which have disappeared since ,martinus ,scriblerus accounted for the operation of the meat-jack by its inherent meat-roasting quality1 and scorned the materialism of those who explained the turning of the spit by a certain mechanism worked by the draught of the chimney8 ,if scientific language is to possess a definite and constant signification whenever it is employed1 it seems to me that we are logically bound to apply to the protoplasm1 or physical basis of life1 the same conceptions as those which are held to be legitimate elsewhere4 ,if the phenomena exhibited by water are its properties1 so are those presented by protoplasm1 living or dead1 its properties4 ,if the properties of water may be properly said to result from the nature and disposition of its component molecules1 ,i can find no intelligible ground for refusing to say that the properties of protoplasm result from the nature and disposition of its molecules4 ,but ,i bid you beware that1 in accepting these conclusions1 you are placing your feet on the first rung of a ladder which1 in most people's estimation1 is the reverse of ,jacob's and leads to the antipodes of heaven4 ,it may seem a small thing to admit that the dull vital actions of a fungus1 or a foraminifer1 are the properties of their protoplasm1 and are the direct results of the nature of the matter of which they are composed4 ,but if1 as ,i have endeavoured to prove to you1 their protoplasm is essentially identical with1 and most readily converted into1 that of any animal1 ,i can discover no logical halting-place between the admission that such is the case1 and the further concession that all vital action may1 with equal propriety1 be said to be the result of the molecular forces of the protoplasm which displays it4 ,and if so1 it must be true1 in the same sense and to the same extent1 that the thoughts to which ,i am now giving utterance1 and your thoughts regarding them1 are the expression of molecular changes in that matter of life which is the source of our other vital phenomena4 ,past experience leads me to be tolerably certain that1 when the propositions ,i have just placed before you are accessible to public comment and criticism1 they will be condemned by many zealous persons1 and perhaps by some few of the wise and thoughtful4 ,i should not wonder if gross and brutal materialism were the mildest phrase applied to them in certain quarters4 ,and1 most undoubtedly1 the terms of the propositions are distinctly materialistic4 ,nevertheless two things are certain3 the one1 that ,i hold the statements to be substantially true2 the other1 that ,i1 individually1 am no materialist1 but1 on the contrary1 believe materialism to involve grave philosophical error4 ,this union of materialistic terminology with the repudiation of materialistic philosophy ,i share with some of the most thoughtful men with whom ,i am acquainted4 ,and1 when ,i first undertook to deliver the present discourse1 it appeared to me to be a fitting opportunity to explain how such a union is not only consistent with1 but necessitated by1 sound logic4 ,i purposed to lead you through the territory of vital phenomena to the materialistic slough in which you find yourselves now plunged1 and then to point out to you the sole path by which1 in my judgment1 extrication is possible4 99 99 99 99 99 ,let us suppose that knowledge is absolute1 and not relative1 and therefore1 that our conception of matter represents that which it really is4 ,let us suppose1 further1 that we do know more of cause and effect than a certain definite order of succession among facts1 and that we have a knowledge of the necessity of that succession--and hence1 of necessary laws--and ,i1 for my part1 do not see what escape there is from utter materialism and necessarianism4 ,for it is obvious that our knowledge of what we call the material world is1 to begin with1 at least as certain and definite as that of the spiritual world1 and that our acquaintance with law is of as old a date as our knowledge of spontaneity4 ,further1 ,i take it to be demonstrable that it is utterly impossible to prove that anything whatever may not be the effect of a material and necessary cause1 and that human logic is equally incompetent to prove that any act is really spontaneous4 ,a really spontaneous act is one which1 by the assumption1 has no cause2 and the attempt to prove such a negative as this is1 on the face of the matter1 absurd4 ,and while it is thus a philosophical impossibility to demonstrate that any given phenomenon is not the effect of a material cause1 any one who is acquainted with the history of science will admit1 that its progress has1 in all ages1 meant1 and now1 more than ever1 means1 the extension of the province of what we call matter and causation1 and the concomitant gradual banishment from all regions of human thought of what we call spirit and spontaneity4 ,i have endeavoured1 in the first part of this discourse1 to give you a conception of the direction towards which modern physiology is tending2 and ,i ask you1 what is the difference between the conception of life as the product of a certain disposition of material molecules1 and the old notion of an ,archaeus#ed governing and directing blind matter within each living body1 except this--that here1 as elsewhere1 matter and law have devoured spirit and spontaneity8 ,and as surely as every future grows out of past and present1 so will the physiology of the future gradually extend the realm of matter and law until it is co-extensive with knowledge1 with feeling1 and with action4 ,the consciousness of this great truth weighs like a nightmare1 ,i believe1 upon many of the best minds of these days4 ,they watch what they conceive to be the progress of materialism1 in such fear and powerless anger as a savage feels when1 during an eclipse1 the great shadow creeps over the face of the sun4 ,the advancing tide of matter threatens to drown their souls2 the tightening grasp of law impedes their freedom2 they are alarmed lest man's moral nature be debased by the increase of his wisdom4 ,if the ,new ,philosophy be worthy of the reprobation with which it is visited1 ,i confess their fears seem to me to be well founded4 ,while1 on the contrary1 could ,david ,hume be consulted1 ,i think he would smile at their perplexities1 and chide them for doing even as the heathen1 and falling down in terror before the hideous idols their own hands have raised4 ,for1 after all1 what do we know of this terrible matter1 except as a name for the unknown and hypothetical cause of states of our own consciousness8 ,and what do we know of that spirit over whose threatened extinction by matter a great lamentation is arising1 like that which was heard at the death of ,pan1 except that it is also a name for an unknown and hypothetical cause1 or condition1 of states of consciousness8 ,in other words1 matter and spirit are but names for the imaginary substrata of groups of natural phenomena4 ,and what is the dire necessity and iron law under which men groan8 ,truly1 most gratuitously invented bugbears4 ,i suppose if there be an iron law1 it is that of gravitation2 and if there be a physical necessity1 it is that a stone1 unsupported1 must fall to the ground4 ,but what is all we really know1 and can know1 about the latter phenomenon8 ,simply1 that1 in all human experience1 stones have fallen to the ground under these conditions2 that we have not the smallest reason for believing that any stone so circumstanced will not fall to the ground2 and that we have1 on the contrary1 every reason to believe that it will so fall4 ,it is very convenient to indicate that all the conditions of belief have been fulfilled in this case1 by calling the statement that unsupported stones will fall to the ground1 a law of ,nature4 ,but when1 as commonly happens1 we change will into must1 we introduce an idea of necessity which most assuredly does not lie in the observed facts1 and has no warranty that ,i can discover elsewhere4 ,for my part1 ,i utterly repudiate and anathematise the intruder4 ,fact ,i know2 and ,law ,i know2 but what is this ,necessity save an empty shadow of my own mind's throwing8 ,but1 if it is certain that we can have no knowledge of the nature of either matter or spirit1 and that the notion of necessity is something illegitimately thrust into the perfectly legitimate conception of law1 the materialistic position that there is nothing in the world but matter1 force1 and necessity1 is as utterly devoid of justification as the most baseless of theological dogmas4 ,the fundamental doctrines of materialism1 like those of spiritualism1 and most other isms1 lie outside the limits of philosophical inquiry1 and ,david ,hume's great service to humanity is his irrefragable demonstration of what these limits are4 ,hume called himself a sceptic1 and therefore others cannot be blamed if they apply the same title to him2 but that does not alter the fact that the name1 with its existing implications1 does him gross injustice4 ,if a man asks me what the politics of the inhabitants of the moon are1 and ,i reply that ,i do not know2 that neither ,i1 nor any one else1 has any means of knowing2 and that1 under these circumstances1 ,i decline to trouble myself about the subject at all2 ,i do not think he has any right to call me a sceptic4 ,on the contrary1 in replying thus1 ,i conceive that ,i am simply honest and truthful1 and show a proper regard for the economy of time4 ,so ,hume's strong and subtle intellect takes up a great many problems about which we are naturally curious1 and shows us that they are essentially questions of lunar politics1 in their essence incapable of being answered1 and therefore not worth the attention of men who have work to do in the world4 ,and he thus ends one of his essays3-- ,if we take in hand any volume of ,divinity1 or school metaphysics1 for instance1 let us ask1 ,does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quantity or number8 ,no4 ,does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence8 ,no4 ,commit it then to the flames2 for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion4#ee ,permit me to enforce this most wise advice4 ,why trouble ourselves about matters of which1 however important they may be1 we do know nothing1 and can know nothing8 ,we live in a world which is full of misery and ignorance1 and the plain duty of each and all of us is to try to make the little corner he can influence somewhat less miserable and somewhat less ignorant than it was before he entered it4 ,to do this effectually it is necessary to be fully possessed of only two beliefs3 the first1 that the order of ,nature is ascertainable by our faculties to an extent which is practically unlimited2 the second1 that our volition#ef counts for something as a condition of the course of events4 ,each of these beliefs can be verified experimentally1 as often as we like to try4 ,each1 therefore1 stands upon the strongest foundation upon which any belief can rest1 and forms one of our highest truths4 ,if we find that the ascertainment of the order of nature is facilitated by using one terminology1 or one set of symbols1 rather than another1 it is our clear duty to use the former2 and no harm can accrue1 so long as we bear in mind that we are dealing merely with terms and symbols4 ,in itself it is of little moment whether we express the phenomena of matter in terms of spirit2 or the phenomena of spirit in terms of matter3 matter may be regarded as a form of thought1 thought may be regarded as a property of matter--each statement has a certain relative truth4 ,but with a view to the progress of science1 the materialistic terminology is in every way to be preferred4 ,for it connects thought with the other phenomena of the universe1 and suggests inquiry into the nature of those physical conditions1 or concomitants of thought1 which are more or less accessible to us1 and a knowledge of which may1 in future1 help us to exercise the same kind of control over the world of thought as we already possess in respect of the material world2 whereas1 the alternative1 or spiritualistic1 terminology is utterly barren1 and leads to nothing but obscurity and confusion of ideas4 ,thus there can be little doubt1 that the further science advances1 the more extensively and consistently will all the phenomena of ,nature be represented by materialistic formulae and symbols4 ,but the man of science1 who1 forgetting the limits of philosophical inquiry1 slides from these formulae and symbols into what is commonly understood by materialism1 seems to me to place himself on a level with the mathematician who should mistake the x's and y's with which he works his problems1 for real entities--and with this further disadvantage1 as compared with the mathematician1 that the blunders of the latter are of no practical consequence1 while the errors of systematic materialism may paralyse the energies and destroy the beauty of a life4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #dh3 ,the substance of this paper was contained in an address which was delivered in ,edinburgh in #ahfh4 ,the paper was published in ,lay ,sermons1 #ahgj4 ,footnote #di3 fortiori3 with stronger reason4 ,footnote #ej3 ,why does the populace rush so and make clamor8 ,it wishes to eat1 bring forth children1 and feed these as well as it may4444 ,no man can do better1 strive how he will4 ,footnote #ea3 ,we and ours must die4 ,footnote #eb3 ,in one of the ,arabian ,nights stories1 a nobleman called ,barmecide set before a beggar a number of empty dishes supposed to contain a feast4 ,footnote #ec3 ,mode of working4 ,footnote #ed3 ,archaeus3 a spirit1 having essentially the same form as the body within which it resided4 ,footnote #ee3 ,hume's ,essay ,of the ,academical or ,sceptical ,philosophy1 in the ,inquiry concerning the ,human ,understanding4--,many critics of this passage seem to forget that the subject-matter of ,ethics and ,aesthetics consists of matters of fact and existence4--#ahib4--;,author's note4 ,footnote #ef3 ,or1 to speak more accurately1 the physical state of which volition is the expression4--#ahib4--;,author's note4 ,,comparison ,,of ,,the ,,mental ,,powers ,,of ,,man ,,and ,,the ,,lower ,,animals#eg ,,charles ,,darwin ,my object in this chapter is to show that there is no fundamental difference between man and the higher mammals in their mental faculties4 ,each division of the subject might have been extended into a separate essay1 but must here be treated briefly4 ,as no classification of the mental powers has been universally accepted1 ,i shall arrange my remarks in the order most convenient for my purpose2 and will select those facts which have struck me most1 with the hope that they may produce some effect on the reader4 ,as man possesses the same senses as the lower animals1 his fundamental intuitions must be the same4 ,man has also some few instincts in common1 as that of self-preservation1 sexual love1 the love of the mother for her new-born offspring1 the desire possessed by the latter to suck1 and so forth4 ,but man1 perhaps1 has somewhat fewer instincts3 than those possessed by the animals which come next to him in the series4 ,the orang in the ,eastern islands and the chimpanzee in ,africa build platforms on which they sleep2 and as both species follow the same habit1 it might be argued that this was due to instinct1 but we cannot feel sure that it is not the result of both animals having similar wants and possessing similar powers of reasoning4 ,these apes1 as we may assume1 avoid the many poisonous fruits of the tropics1 and man has no such knowledge2 but as our domestic animals1 when taken to foreign lands1 and when first turned out in the spring1 often eat poisonous herbs1 which they afterward avoid1 we cannot feel sure that the apes do not learn from their own experience or from that of their parents what fruits to select4 ,it is1 however1 certain1 as we shall presently see1 that apes have an instinctive dread of serpents1 and probably of other dangerous animals4 ,the fewness and the comparative simplicity of the instincts in the higher animals are remarkable in contrast with those of the lower animals4 ,cuvier maintained that instinct and intelligence stand in an inverse ratio to each other2 and some have thought that the intellectual faculties of the higher animals have been gradually developed from their instincts4 ,but ,pouchet1 in an interesting essay1 has shown that no such inverse ratio really exists4 ,those insects which possess the most wonderful instincts are certainly the most intelligent4 ,in the vertebrate series1 the least intelligent members1 namely fishes and amphibians1 do not possess complex instincts2 and among mammals the animal most remarkable for its instincts1 namely the beaver1 is highly intelligent1 as will be admitted by every one who has read ,mr4 ,morgan's excellent work4#eh ,but although1 as we learn from the above-mentioned insects and the beaver1 a high degree of intelligence is certainly compatible with complex instincts1 and although actions1 at first learned voluntarily1 can soon through habit be performed with the quickness and certainty of a reflex action1 yet it is not improbable that there is a certain amount of interference between the development of free intelligence and of instinct1 since the latter implies some inherited modification of the brain4 ,little is known about the functions of the brain1 but we can perceive that as the intellectual powers become highly developed the various parts of the brain must be connected by very intricate channels of the freest intercommunication2 and as a consequence each separate part would perhaps tend to be less well fitted to answer to particular sensations or associations in a definite and inherited--that is1 instinctive--manner4 ,there seems even to exist some relation between a low degree of intelligence and a strong tendency to the formation of fixed1 though not inherited1 habits2 for as a sagacious physician remarked to me1 persons who are slightly imbecile tend to act in everything by routine or habit2 and they are rendered much happier if this is encouraged4 ,i have thought this digression worth giving1 because we may easily underrate the mental powers of the higher animals1 and especially of man1 when we compare their actions founded on the memory of past events1 on foresight1 reason and imagination1 with exactly similar actions instinctively performed by the lower animals2 in this latter case the capacity of performing such actions has been gained1 step by step1 through the variability of the mental organs and natural selection1 without any conscious intelligence on the part of the animal during each successive generation4 ,no doubt1 as ,mr4 ,wallace has argued1 much of the intelligent work done by man is due to imitation and not to reason2 but there is this great difference between his actions and many of those performed by the lower animals1 namely1 that man cannot1 on his first trial1 make1 for instance1 a stone hatchet or a canoe1 through his power of imitation4 ,he has to learn his work by practice2 a beaver1 on the other hand1 can make its dam or canal1 and a bird its nest1 as well1 or nearly as well1 and a spider its wonderful web quite as well1 the first time it tries as when old and experienced4 ,to return to our immediate subject3 the lower animals1 like man1 manifestly feel pleasure and pain1 happiness and misery4 ,happiness is never better exhibited than by young animals1 such as puppies1 kittens1 lambs1 etc41 when playing together1 like our own children4 ,even insects play together1 as has been described by that excellent observer1 ,p4 ,huber1 who saw ants chasing and pretending to bite each other1 like so many puppies4 ,the fact that the lower animals are excited by the same emotions as ourselves is so well established that it will not be necessary to weary the reader by many details4 ,terror acts in the same manner on them as on us1 causing the muscles to tremble1 the heart to palpitate1 the sphincters to be relaxed1 and the hair to stand on end4 ,suspicion1 the offspring of fear1 is eminently characteristic of most wild animals4 ,it is1 ,i think1 impossible to read the account given by ,sir ,e4 ,tennent1 of the behaviour of the female elephants used as decoys1 without admitting that they intentionally practise deceit1 and well know what they are about4 ,courage and timidity are extremely variable qualities in the individuals of the same species1 as is plainly seen in our dogs4 ,some dogs and horses are ill-tempered and easily turn sulky2 others are good-tempered2 and these qualities are certainly inherited4 ,every one knows how liable animals are to furious rage and how plainly they show it4 ,many1 and probably true1 anecdotes have been published on the long-delayed and artful revenge of various animals4 ,the accurate ,rengger and ,brehm#ei state that the ,american and ,african monkeys which they kept tame certainly revenged themselves4 ,sir ,andrew ,smith1 a zoologist whose scrupulous accuracy was known to many persons1 told me the following story of which he was himself an eye-witness3 ,at the ,cape of ,good ,hope an officer had often plagued a certain baboon1 and the animal1 seeing him approaching one ,sunday for parade1 poured water into a hole and hastily made some thick mud1 which he skilfully dashed over the officer as he passed by1 to the amusement of many bystanders4 ,for long afterwards the baboon rejoiced and triumphed whenever he saw his victim4 ,the love of a dog for his master is notorious2 as an old writer quaintly says3 ,a dog is the only thing on this earth that luvs you more than he luvs himself4 ,in the agony of death a dog has been known to caress his master1 and every one has heard of the dog suffering under vivisection1 who licked the hand of the operator2 this man1 unless the operation was fully justified by an increase of our knowledge1 or unless he had a heart of stone1 must have felt remorse to the last hour of his life4 ,as ,whewell has well asked3 ,who that reads the touching instances of maternal affection1 related so often of the women of all nations and of the females of all animals1 can doubt that the principle of action is the same in the two cases8 ,we see maternal affection exhibited in the most trifling details2 thus1 ,rengger observed an ,american monkey 7a ,cebus7 carefully driving away the flies which plagued her infant2 and ,duvaucel saw a ,hylobates washing the face of her young ones in a stream4 ,so intense is the grief of female monkeys for the loss of their young that it invariably caused the death of certain kinds kept under confinement by ,brehm in ,n4 ,africa4 ,orphan monkeys were always adopted and carefully guarded by the other monkeys1 both males and females4 ,one female baboon had so capacious a heart that she not only adopted young monkeys of other species1 but stole young dogs and cats1 which she continually carried about4 ,her kindness1 however1 did not go so far as to share her food with her adopted offspring1 at which ,brehm was surprised1 as his monkeys always divided everything quite fairly with their own young ones4 ,an adopted kitten scratched this affectionate baboon1 who certainly had a fine intellect1 for she was much astonished at being scratched1 and immediately examined the kitten's feet1 and without more ado bit off the claws4#fj ,in the ,zoological ,gardens ,i heard from the keeper that an old baboon 7,c4 chacma7 had adopted a ,rhesus monkey2 but when a young drill and mandrill were placed in the cage she seemed to perceive that these monkeys1 though distinct species1 were her nearer relatives1 for she at once rejected the ,rhesus and adopted both of them4 ,the young ,rhesus1 as ,i saw1 was greatly discontented at being thus rejected1 and it would1 like a naughty child1 annoy and attack the young drill and mandrill whenever it could do so with safety2 this conduct exciting great indignation in the old baboon4 ,monkeys will also1 according to ,brehm1 defend their master when attacked by any one1 as well as dogs to whom they are attached1 from the attacks of other dogs4 ,but we here trench on the subjects of sympathy and fidelity to which ,i shall recur4 ,some of ,brehm's monkeys took much delight in teasing a certain old dog whom they disliked1 as well as other animals1 in various ingenious ways4 ,most of the more complex emotions are common to the higher animals and ourselves4 ,every one has seen how jealous a dog is of his master's affections if lavished on any other creature2 and ,i have observed the same fact with monkeys4 ,this shows that animals not only love1 but have a desire to be loved4 ,animals manifestly feel emulation4 ,they love approbation or praise2 and a dog carrying a basket for his master exhibits in a high degree self-complacency or pride4 ,there can1 ,i think1 be no doubt that a dog feels shame1 as distinct from fear1 and something very like modesty when begging too often for food4 ,a great dog scorns the snarling of a little dog1 and this may be called magnanimity4 ,several observers have stated that monkeys certainly dislike being laughed at2 and they sometimes invent imaginary offenses4 ,in the ,zoological ,gardens ,i saw a baboon who always got into a furious rage when his keeper took out a letter or book and read it aloud to him2 and his rage was so violent that1 as ,i witnessed on one occasion1 he bit his own leg till the blood flowed4 ,dogs show what may be fairly called a sense of humour as distinct from mere play2 if a bit of stick or other such object be thrown to one1 he will often carry it away for a short distance2 and then squatting down with it on the ground close before him1 will wait until his master comes quite close to take it away4 ,the dog will then seize it and rush away in triumph1 repeating the same maneuver1 and evidently enjoying the practical joke4 ,we will now turn to the more intellectual emotions and faculties1 which are very important1 as forming the basis for the development of the higher mental powers4 ,animals manifestly enjoy excitement1 and suffer from ennui1 as may be seen with dogs1 and1 according to ,rengger1 with monkeys4 ,all animals feel ,wonder and many exhibit ,curiosity4 ,they sometimes suffer from this latter quality1 as when the hunter plays antics and thus attracts them2 ,i have witnessed this with deer1 and so it is with the wary chamois1 and with some kinds of wild ducks4 ,brehm gives a curious account of the instinctive dread1 which his monkeys exhibited1 for snakes2 but their curiosity was so great that they could not desist from occasionally satiating their horror in a most human fashion by lifting up the lid of the box in which the snakes were kept4 ,i was so much surprised at his account that ,i took a stuffed and coiled-up snake into the monkey-house at the ,zoological ,gardens1 and the excitement thus caused was one of the most curious spectacles which ,i ever beheld4 ,three species of ,cercopithecus were the most alarmed2 they dashed about their cages and uttered sharp signal cries of danger1 which were understood by the other monkeys4 ,a few young monkeys and one old ,anubis baboon alone took no notice of the snake4 ,i then placed the stuffed specimen on the ground in one of the larger compartments4 ,after a time all the monkeys collected round it in a large circle1 and1 staring intently1 presented a most ludicrous appearance4 ,they became extremely nervous2 so that when a wooden ball1 with which they were familiar as a plaything1 was accidentally moved in the straw1 under which it was partly hidden1 they all instantly started away4 ,these monkeys behaved very differently when a dead fish1 a mouse1 a living turtle1 and other new objects were placed in their cages2 for though at first frightened1 they soon approached1 handled1 and examined them4 ,i then placed a live snake in a paper bag1 with the mouth loosely closed1 in one of the larger compartments4 ,one of the monkeys immediately approached1 cautiously opened the bag a little1 peeped in1 and instantly dashed away4 ,then ,i witnessed what ,brehm has described2 for monkey after monkey1 with head raised high and turned on one side1 could not resist taking a momentary peep into the upright bag1 at the dreadful object lying quietly at the bottom4 ,it would almost appear as if monkeys had some notion of zoological affinities1 for those kept by ,brehm exhibited a strange1 although mistaken1 instinctive dread of innocent lizards and frogs4 ,an orang1 also1 has been known to be much alarmed at the first sight of a turtle4 ,the principle of ,imitation is strong in man1 and especially1 as ,i have myself observed1 with savages4 ,in certain morbid states of the brain this tendency is exaggerated to an extraordinary degree2 some hemiplegic patients and others1 at the commencement of inflammatory softening of the brain1 unconsciously imitate every word which is uttered1 whether in their own or a foreign language1 and every gesture or action which is performed near them4 ,desor has remarked that no animal voluntarily imitates an action performed by man1 until1 in the ascending scale1 we come to monkeys1 which are well known to be ridiculous mockers4 ,animals1 however1 sometimes imitate each other's actions2 thus two species of wolves1 which had been reared by dogs1 learned to bark1 as does sometimes the jackal1 but whether this can be called voluntary imitation is another question4 ,birds imitate the songs of their parents1 and sometimes of other birds2 and parrots are notorious imitators of any sound which they often hear4 ,dureau de la ,malle gives an account of a dog reared by a cat1 who learned to imitate the well-known action of a cat licking her paws1 and thus washing her ears and face2 this was also witnessed by the celebrated naturalist ,audouin4 ,i have received several confirmatory accounts2 in one of these1 a dog had not been suckled by a cat1 but had been brought up with one1 together with kittens1 and had thus acquired the above habit1 which he ever afterward practised during his life of thirteen years4 ,dureau de la ,malle's dog likewise learned from the kittens to play with a ball by rolling it about with his fore-paws and springing on it4 ,a correspondent assures me that a cat in his house used to put her paws into jugs of milk having too narrow a mouth for her head4 ,a kitten of this cat soon learned the same trick1 and practised it ever afterward whenever there was an opportunity4 ,the parents of many animals1 trusting to the principle of imitation in their young1 and more especially to their instinctive or inherited tendencies1 may be said to educate them4 ,we see this when a cat brings a live mouse to her kittens2 and ,dureau de la ,malle has given a curious account 7in the paper above quoted7 of his observations on hawks which taught their young dexterity1 as well as judgment of distances1 by first dropping through the air dead mice and sparrows1 which the young generally failed to catch1 and then bringing them live birds and letting them loose4 ,hardly any faculty is more important for the intellectual progress of man than ,attention4 ,animals clearly manifest this power1 as when a cat watches by a hole and prepares to spring on its prey4 ,wild animals sometimes become so absorbed when thus engaged that they may be easily approached4 ,mr4 ,bartlett has given me a curious proof of how variable this faculty is in monkeys4 ,a man who trains monkeys to act in plays used to purchase common kinds from the ,zoological ,society at the price of five pounds for each2 but he offered to give double the price if he might keep three or four of them for a few days in order to select one4 ,when asked how he could possibly learn so soon whether a particular monkey would turn out a good actor1 he answered that it all depended on their power of attention4 ,if when he was talking and explaining anything to a monkey its attention was easily distracted1 as by a fly on the wall or other trifling object1 the case was hopeless4 ,if he tried by punishment to make an inattentive monkey act1 it turned sulky4 ,on the other hand1 a monkey which carefully attended to him could always be trained4 ,it is almost superfluous to state that animals have excellent memories for persons and places4 ,a baboon at the ,cape of ,good ,hope1 as ,i have been informed by ,sir ,andrew ,smith1 recognised him with joy after an absence of nine months4 ,i had a dog who was savage and averse to all strangers1 and ,i purposely tried his memory after an absence of five years and two days4 ,i went near the stable where he lived and shouted to him in my old manner2 he showed no joy1 but instantly followed me out walking1 and obeyed me exactly as if ,i had parted with him only half an hour before4 ,a train of old associations1 dormant during five years1 had thus been instantaneously awakened in his mind4 ,even ants1 as ,p4 ,huber has clearly shown1 recognised their fellow-ants belonging to the same community after a separation of four months4 ,animals can certainly by some means judge of the intervals of time between recurrent events4 ,the ,imagination is one of the highest prerogatives of man4 ,by this faculty he may unite former images and ideas1 independently of the will1 and thus create brilliant and novel results4 ,a poet1 as ,jean ,paul ,richter remarks1 who must reflect whether he shall make a character say yes or no--to the devil with him2 he is only a stupid corpse4 ,the value of the products of our imagination depends of course on the number1 accuracy1 and clearness of our impressions1 on our judgment and taste in selecting or rejecting the involuntary combinations1 and to a certain extent on our power of voluntarily combining them4 ,as dogs1 cats1 horses1 and probably all the higher animals1 even birds1 have vivid dreams1 and this is shown by their movements and the sounds uttered1 we must admit that they possess some power of imagination4 ,there must be something special which causes dogs to howl in the night1 and especially during moonlight1 in that remarkable and melancholy manner called baying4 ,all dogs do not do so2 and1 according to ,houzeau1 they do not then look at the moon1 but at some fixed point near the horizon4 ,houzeau thinks that their imaginations are disturbed by the vague outlines of the surrounding objects1 and conjure up before them fantastic images2 if this be so1 their feelings may almost be called superstitious4 ,of all the faculties of the human mind1 it will1 ,i presume1 be admitted that ,reason stands at the summit4 ,only a few persons now dispute that animals possess some power of reasoning4 ,animals may constantly be seen to pause1 deliberate1 and resolve4 ,it is a significant fact1 that the more the habits of any particular animal are studied by a naturalist1 the more he attributes to reason and the less to unlearned instincts4 ,in future chapters we shall see that some animals extremely low in the scale apparently display a certain amount of reason4 ,no doubt it is often difficult to distinguish between the power of reason and that of instinct4 ,for instance1 ,dr4 ,hayes1 in his work on ,the ,open ,polar ,sea1 repeatedly remarks that his dogs1 instead of continuing to draw the sledges in a compact body1 diverged and separated when they came to thin ice1 so that their weight might be more evenly distributed4 ,this was often the first warning which the travellers received that the ice was becoming thin and dangerous4 ,now1 did the dogs act thus from the experience of each individual1 or from the example of the older and wiser dogs1 or from an inherited habit1 that is from instinct8 ,this instinct may possibly have arisen since the time1 long ago1 when dogs were first employed by the natives in drawing their sledges2 or the ,arctic wolves1 the parent-stock of the ,esquimau dog1 may have acquired an instinct impelling them not to attack their prey in a close pack1 when on thin ice4 ,we can only judge by the circumstances under which actions are performed1 whether they are due to instinct1 or to reason1 or to the mere association of ideas2 this latter principle1 however1 is intimately connected with reason4 ,a curious case has been given by ,professor ,mbius1 of a pike1 separated by a plate of glass from an adjoining aquarium stocked with fish1 and who often dashed himself with such violence against the glass in trying to catch the other fishes1 that he was sometimes completely stunned4 ,the pike went on thus for three months1 but at last learned caution1 and ceased to do so4 ,the plate of glass was then removed1 but the pike would not attack these particular fishes1 though he would devour others which were afterward introduced2 so strongly was the idea of a violent shock associated in his feeble mind with the attempt on his former neighbours4 ,if a savage who had never seen a large plate-glass window1 were to dash himself even once against it1 he would for a long time afterward associate a shock with a window-frame2 but1 very differently from the pike1 he would probably reflect on the nature of the impediment1 and be cautious under analogous circumstances4 ,now with monkeys1 as we shall presently see1 a painful or merely a disagreeable impression1 from an action once performed1 is sometimes sufficient to prevent the animal from repeating it4 ,if we attribute this difference between the monkeys and the pike solely to the association of ideas being so much stronger and more persistent in the one than the other1 though the pike often received much the more severe injury1 can we maintain in the case of man that a similar difference implies the possession of a fundamentally different mind8 ,houzeau relates that1 while crossing a wide and arid plain in ,texas1 his two dogs suffered greatly from thirst1 and that between thirty and forty times they rushed down the hollows to search for water4 ,these hollows were not valleys1 and there were no trees in them1 or any other difference in the vegetation1 and as they were absolutely dry1 there could have been no smell of damp earth4 ,the dogs behaved as if they knew that a dip in the ground offered them the best chance of finding water1 and ,houzeau has often witnessed the same behaviour in other animals4 ,i have seen1 as ,i dare say have others1 that when a small object is thrown on the ground beyond the reach of one of the elephants in the ,zoological ,gardens1 he blows through his trunk on the ground beyond the object1 so that the current reflected on all sides may drive the object within his reach4 ,again1 a well-known ethnologist1 ,mr4 ,westropp1 informs me that he observed in ,vienna a bear deliberately making with his paw a current in some water1 which was close to the bars of his cage1 so as to draw a piece of floating bread within his reach4 ,these actions of the elephant and bear can hardly be attributed to instinct or inherited habit1 as they would be of little use to an animal in a state of nature4 ,now1 what is the difference between such actions1 when performed by an uncultivated man1 and by one of the higher animals8 ,the savage and the dog have often found water at a low level1 and the coincidence under such circumstances has become associated in their minds4 ,a cultivated man would perhaps make some general proposition on the subject2 but from all that we know of savages it is extremely doubtful whether they would do so1 and a dog would certainly not4 ,but a savage1 as well as a dog1 would search in the same way1 though frequently disappointed1 and in both it seems to be equally an act of reason1 whether or not any general proposition on the subject is consciously placed before the mind4 ,the same would apply to the elephant and the bear making currents in the air or water4 ,the savage would certainly neither know nor care by what law the desired movements were effected2 yet his act would be guided by a rude process of reasoning1 as surely as would a philosopher in his longest chain of deductions4 ,there would no doubt be this difference between him and one of the higher animals1 that he would take notice of much slighter circumstances and conditions1 and would observe any connection between them after much less experience1 and this would be of paramount importance4 ,i kept a daily record of the actions of one of my infants1 and when he was about eleven months old1 and before he could speak a single word1 ,i was continually struck with the greater quickness with which all sorts of objects and sounds were associated together in his mind1 compared with that of the most intelligent dogs ,i ever knew4 ,but the higher animals differ in exactly the same way in this power of association from those low in the scale1 such as the pike1 as well as in that of drawing inferences and of observation4 ,the promptings of reason1 after very short experience1 are well shown by the following actions of ,american monkeys1 which stand low in their order4 ,rengger1 a most careful observer1 states that when he first gave eggs to his monkeys in ,paraguay they smashed them and thus lost much of their contents2 afterward they gently hit one end against some hard body1 and picked off the bits of shell with their fingers4 ,after cutting themselves only once with any sharp tool1 they would not touch it again1 or would handle it with the greatest caution4 ,lumps of sugar were often given them wrapped up in paper2 and ,rengger sometimes put a live wasp in the paper1 so that in hastily unfolding it they got stung2 after this had once happened they always held the packet to their ears to detect any movement within4 ,the following cases relate to dogs4 ,mr4 ,colquhoun winged two wild ducks1 which fell on the farther side of a stream2 his retriever tried to bring over both at once1 but could not succeed2 she then1 though never before known to ruffle a feather1 deliberately killed one1 brought over the other1 and returned for the dead bird4 ,colonel ,hutchinson relates that two partridges were shot at once1 one being killed1 the other wounded2 the latter ran away and was caught by the retriever1 who on her return came across the dead bird3 ,she stopped1 evidently greatly puzzled1 and after one or two trials1 finding she could not take it up without permitting the escape of the winged bird1 she considered a moment1 then deliberately murdered it by giving it a severe crunch1 and afterward brought away both together4 ,this was the only known instance of her ever having wilfully injured any game4 ,here we have reason1 though not quite perfect1 for the retriever might have brought the wounded bird first and then returned for the dead one1 as in the case of the two wild-ducks4 ,i give the above cases as resting on the evidence of two independent witnesses and because in both instances the retrievers1 after deliberation1 broke through a habit which is inherited by them 7that of not killing the game retrieved71 and because they show how strong their reasoning faculty must have been to overcome a fixed habit4 ,i will conclude by quoting a remark by the illustrious ,humboldt4 ,the muleteers in ,south ,america say1 ',i will not give you the mule whose step is easiest1 but la mas racional--the one that reasons best2' and1 as he adds1 this popular expression1 dictated by long experience1 combats the system of animated machines better perhaps than all the arguments of speculative philosophy4 ,nevertheless some writers even yet deny that the higher animals possess a trace of reason2 and they endeavour to explain away1 by what appears to be mere verbiage1 all such facts as those above given4 ,it has1 ,i think1 now been shown that man and the higher animals1 especially the ,primates1 have some few instincts in common4 ,all have the same senses1 intuitions1 and sensations--similar passions1 affections1 and emotions1 even the more complex ones1 such as jealousy1 suspicion1 emulation1 gratitude and magnanimity2 they practise deceit and are revengeful2 they are sometimes susceptible to ridicule1 and even have a sense of humour2 they feel wonder and curiosity2 they possess the same faculties of imitation1 attention1 deliberation1 choice1 memory1 imagination1 the association of ideas1 and reason1 though in very different degrees4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #eg3 ,from ,chapter ,,iii of ,the ,descent of ,man1 #ahga4 ,all except three of the author's foot-notes have been omitted4 ,footnote #eh3 ,the ,american ,beaver and his ,works1 #ahfh4--;,author's note4 ,footnote #ei3 ,all the following statements1 given on the authority of these two naturalists1 are taken from ,rengger's ,naturgesch4 der ,sugethiere von ,paraguay1 #ahcj1 s4 #da-eg1 and from ,brehm's ,thierleben1 ,b4i4 s4 #aj-hg4--;,author's note4 ,footnote #fj3 ,a critic1 without any grounds 7,quarterly ,review1 ,july1 #ahga1 p4 #gb71 disputes the possibility of this act as described by ,brehm1 for the sake of discrediting my work4 ,therefore ,i tried1 and found that ,i could readily seize with my own teeth the sharp little claws of a kitten nearly five weeks old4--,author's note4 ,,the ,,importance ,,of ,,dust3 ,a ,,source ,,of ,,beauty ,,and ,,essential ,,to ,,life#fa ,,alfred ,,russel ,,wallace ,the majority of persons1 if asked what were the uses of dust1 would reply that they did not know it had any1 but they were sure it was a great nuisance4 ,it is true that dust1 in our towns and in our houses1 is often not only a nuisance but a serious source of disease3 while in many countries it produces ophthalmia1 often resulting in total blindness4 ,dust1 however1 as it is usually perceived by us1 is1 like dirt1 only matter in the wrong place1 and whatever injurious or disagreeable effects it produces are largely due to our own dealings with nature4 ,so soon as we dispense with horsepower and adopt purely mechanical means of traction and conveyance1 we can almost wholly abolish disease-bearing dust from our streets1 and ultimately from all our highways2 while another kind of dust1 that caused by the imperfect combustion of coal1 may be got rid of with equal facility so soon as we consider pure air1 sunlight1 and natural beauty to be of more importance to the population as a whole than are the prejudices or the vested interests of those who produce the smoke4 ,but though we can thus minimize the dangers and the inconveniences arising from the grosser forms of dust1 we cannot wholly abolish it2 and it is1 indeed1 fortunate we cannot do so1 since it has now been discovered that it is to the presence of dust we owe much of the beauty1 and perhaps even the very habitability of the earth we live upon4 ,few of the fairy tales of science are more marvelous than these recent discoveries as to the varied effects and important uses of dust in the economy of nature4 ,the question why the sky and the deep ocean are both blue did not much concern the earlier physicists4 ,it was thought to be the natural color of pure air and water1 so pale as not to be visible when small quantities were seen1 and only exhibiting its true tint when we looked through great depth of atmosphere or of organic water4 ,but this theory did not explain the familiar facts of the gorgeous tints seen at sunset and sunrise1 not only in the atmosphere and on the clouds near the horizon1 but also in equally resplendent hues when the invisible sun shines upon ,alpine peaks and snowfields4 ,a true theory should explain all these colors1 which comprise almost every tint of the rainbow4 ,the explanation was found through experiments on the visibility or non-visibility of air1 which were made by the late ,professor ,tyndall about the year #ahfh4 ,everyone3 has seen the floating dust in a sunbeam when sunshine enters a partially darkened room2 but it is not generally known that if there was absolutely no dust in the air the path of the sunbeam would be totally black and invisible1 while if only very little dust was present in very minute particles the air would be as blue as the summer sky4 ,this was proved by passing a ray of electric light lengthways through a long glass cylinder filled with air of varying degrees of purity as regards dust4 ,in the air of an ordinary room1 however clean and well ventilated1 the interior of the1 cylinder appears brilliantly illuminated4 ,but if the cylinder is exhausted and then filled with air which is passed slowly through a fine gauze of intensely heated platinum wire1 so as to burn up all the floating dust particles1 which are mainly organic1 the light will pass through the cylinder without illuminating the interior1 which1 viewed laterally1 will appear as if filled with a dense black cloud4 ,if1 now1 more air is passed into the cylinder through the heated gauze1 but so rapidly that the dust particles are not wholly consumed1 a slight blue haze will begin to appear1 which will gradually become a pure blue1 equal to that of a summer sky4 ,if more and more dust particles are allowed to enter1 the blue becomes paler1 and gradually changes to the colourless illumination of the ordinary air4 ,the explanation of these phenomena is that the number of dust particles in ordinary air is so great that they reflect abundance of light of all wave-lengths1 and thus cause the interior of the vessel containing them to appear illuminated with white light4 ,the air which is passed slowly over white-hot platinum has had the dust particles destroyed1 thus showing that they were almost wholly of organic origin1 which is also indicated by their extreme lightness1 causing them to float permanently in the atmosphere4 ,the dust being thus got rid of1 and pure air being entirely transparent1 there is nothing in the cylinder to reflect the light1 which is sent through its centre in a beam of parallel rays so that none of it strikes against the sides2 hence the inside of the cylinder appears absolutely dark4 ,but when the larger dust particles are wholly or partially burnt1 so that only the very smallest fragments remain1 a blue light appears1 because these are so minute as to reflect chiefly the more refrangible rays1 which are of shorter wave-length--those at the blue end of the spectrum--and which are thus scattered in all directions1 while the red and yellow rays pass straight on as before4 ,we have seen that the air near the earth's surface is full of rather coarse particles which reflect all the rays1 and which therefore produce no one colour4 ,but higher up the particles necessarily become smaller and smaller1 since the comparatively rare atmosphere will support only the very smallest and lightest4 ,these exist throughout a great thickness of air1 perhaps from one mile to ten miles high or1 even more1 and blue or violet rays being reflected from the innumerable particles in this great mass of air1 which is nearly uniform in all parts of the world as regards the presence of minute dust particles1 produces the constant and nearly uniform tint we call sky-blue4 ,a certain amount of white or yellow light is no doubt reflected from the coarser dust in the lower atmosphere1 and slightly dilutes the blue and renders it not quite so deep and pure as it otherwise would be4 ,this is shown by the increasing depth of the sky-colour when seen from the tops of lofty mountains1 while from the still greater heights attained in balloons the sky appears of a blue-black colour1 the blue reflected from the comparatively small amount of dust particles being seen against the intense black of stellar space4 ,it is for the same reason that the ,italian skies are of so rich a blue1 because the ,mediterranean ,sea on one side and the snowy ,alps on the other do not furnish so large a quantity of atmospheric dust in the lower strata of air as in less favorably situated countries1 thus leaving the blue reflected by the more uniformly distributed fine dust of the higher strata undiluted4 ,but these ,mediterranean skies are surpassed by those of the central ,pacific ocean1 where1 owing to the small area of land1 the lower atmosphere is more free from coarse dust than in any other part of the world4 ,if we look at the sky on a perfectly fine summer's day1 we shall find that the blue colour is the most pure and intense overhead1 and when looking high up in a direction opposite to the sun4 ,near the horizon it is always less bright1 while in the region immediately around the sun it is more or less yellow4 ,the reason of this is that near the horizon we look through a very great thickness of the lower atmosphere1 which is full of the larger dust particles reflecting white light1 and this dilutes the pure blue of the higher atmosphere seen beyond4 ,and in the vicinity of the sun a good deal of the blue light is reflected back into space by the finer dust1 thus giving a yellowish tinge to that which reaches us reflected chiefly from the coarse dust of the lower atmosphere4 ,at sunset and sunrise1 however1 this last effect is greatly intensified1 owing to the great thickness of the strata of air through which the light reaches us4 ,the enormous amount of this dust is well shown by the fact that1 then only1 we can look full at the sun1 even when the whole sky is free from clouds and there is no apparent mist4 ,but the sun's rays then reach us after having passed1 first1 through an enormous thickness of the higher strata of the air1 the minute dust of which reflects most of the blue rays away from us1 leaving the complementary yellow light to pass on4 ,then1 the somewhat coarser dust reflects the green rays1 leaving a more orange coloured light to pass on2 and finally some of the yellow is reflected1 leaving almost pure red4 ,but owing to the constant presence of air currents1 arranging both the dust and vapour in strata of varying extent and density1 and of high or low clouds1 which both absorb and reflect the light in varying degrees1 we see produced all those wondrous combinations of tints and those gorgeous ever-changing colours1 which are a constant source of admiration and delight to all who have the advantage of an uninterrupted view to the west1 and who are accustomed to watch for these not unfrequent exhibitions of nature's kaleidoscopic colour-painting4 ,with every change in the altitude of the sun the display changes its character2 and most of all when it has sunk below the horizon1 and1 owing to the more favourable angles1 a larger quantity of the coloured light is reflected toward us4 ,especially is this the case when there is a certain amount of cloud4 ,the clouds1 so long as the sun is above the horizon1 intercept much of the light and colour2 but1 when the great luminary has passed away from our direct vision1 his light shines more directly on the under sides of all the clouds and air strata of different densities2 a new and more brilliant light flushes the western sky1 and a display of gorgeous ever-changing tints occurs which are at once the delight of the beholder and the despair of the artist4 ,and all this unsurpassable glory we owe to--dust6 ,a remarkable confirmation of this theory was given during the two or three years after the great eruption of ,krakatoa1 near ,java4 ,the volcanic dbris was shot up from the crater many miles high1 and the heavier portion of it fell upon the sea for several hundred miles around1 and was found to be mainly composed of very thin flakes of volcanic glass4 ,much of this was of course ground to impalpable dust by the violence of the discharge1 and was carried up to a height of many miles4 ,here it was caught by the return currents of air continually flowing northward and southward above the equatorial zone2 and since1 when these currents reach the temperate zone1 where the surface rotation of the earth is less rapid1 they continually flow eastward1 the fine dust was thus carried at a great altitude completely around the earth4 ,its effects were traced some months after the eruption in the appearance of brilliant sunset glows of an exceptional character1 often flushing with crimson the whole western half of the visible sky4 ,these glows continued in diminishing splendour for about three years2 they were seen all over the temperate zone2 and it was calculated that1 before they finally disappeared1 some of this fine dust must have travelled three times round the globe4 ,the same principle is thought to explain the exquisite blue colour of the deep seas and oceans and of many lakes and springs4 ,absolutely pure water1 like pure air1 is colourless1 but all seas and lakes1 however clear and translucent1 contain abundance of very finely divided matter1 organic or inorganic1 which1 as in the atmosphere1 reflects the blue rays in such quantity as to overpower the white or coloured light-reflected from the fewer and more rapidly sinking particles of larger size4 ,the oceanic dust is derived from many sources4 ,minute organisms are constantly dying near the surface1 and their skeletons1 or fragments of them1 fall slowly to the bottom4 ,the mud brought down by rivers1 though it cannot be traced on the ocean floor more than about #aej miles from land1 yet no doubt furnishes many particles of organic matter which are carried by surface currents to enormous distances and are ultimately dissolved before they reach the bottom4 ,a more important source of finely divided matter is to be found in volcanic dust which1 as in the case of ,krakatoa1 may remain for years in the atmosphere1 but which must ultimately fall upon the surface of the earth and ocean4 ,this can be traced in all the deep-sea oozes4 ,finally there is meteoric dust1 which is continually falling to the surface of the earth1 but in such minute quantities and in such a finely-divided state that it can be detected only in the oozes of the deepest oceans1 where both inorganic and organic dbris is almost absent4 ,the blue of the ocean varies in different parts from a pure blue somewhat lighter than that of the sky1 as seen about the northern tropic in the ,atlantic1 to a deep indigo tint1 as seen in the north temperate portions of the same ocean3 owing1 probably1 to differences in the nature1 quantity1 and distribution of the solid matter which causes the colour4 ,the ,mediterranean1 and the deeper ,swiss lakes1 are also a blue of various tints1 due also to the presence of suspended matter1 which ,professor ,tyndall thought might be so fine that it would require ages of quiet subsidence to reach the bottom4 ,all the evidence goes to show1 therefore1 that the exquisite blue tints of sky and ocean1 as well as all the sunset hues of sky and cloud1 of mountain peak and ,alpine snows1 are due to the finer particles of that very dust which1 in its coarser forms1 we find so annoying and even dangerous4 ,but if this production of colour and beauty were the only useful function of dust1 some persons might be disposed to dispense with it in order to escape its less agreeable effects4 ,it has1 however1 been recently discovered that dust has another part to play in nature2 a part so important that it is doubtful whether we could even live without it4 ,to the presence of dust in the higher atmosphere we owe the formation of mists1 clouds1 and gentle beneficial rains1 instead of water spouts and destructive torrents4 ,it is barely twenty years ago since the discovery was made1 first in ,france by ,coulier and ,mascart1 but more thoroughly worked out by ,mr4 ,john ,aitken in #ahhj4 ,he found that if a jet of steam is admitted into two large glass receivers1--one filled with ordinary air1 the other with air which has been filtered through cotton wool so as to keep back all particles of solid matter1--the first will be instantly filled with condensed vapour in the usual cloudy form1 while the other vessel will remain quite transparent4 ,another experiment was made1 more nearly reproducing what occurs in nature4 ,some water was placed in the two vessels prepared as before4 ,when the water had evaporated sufficiently to saturate the air the vessels were slightly cooled2 a dense cloud was at once formed in the one while the other remained quite clear4 ,these experiments1 and many others1 show that the mere cooling of vapour in air will not condense it into mist clouds or rain1 unless particles of solid matter are present to form nuclei upon which condensation can begin4 ,the density of the cloud is proportionate to the number of the particles2 hence the fact that the steam issuing from the safety-valve or the chimney of a locomotive forms a dense white cloud1 shows that the air is really full of dust particles1 most of which are microscopic but none the less serving as centres of condensation for the vapour4 ,hence1 if there were no dust in the air1 escaping steam would remain invisible2 there would be no cloud in the sky2 and the vapour in the atmosphere1 constantly accumulating through evaporation from seas and oceans and from the earth's surface1 would have to find some other means of returning to its source4 ,one of these modes would be the deposition of dew1 which is itself an illustration of the principle that vapour requires solid or liquid surfaces to condense upon2 dew forms most readily and abundantly on grass1 on account of the numerous centres of condensation this affords4 ,dew1 however1 is now formed only on clear cold nights after warm or moist days4 ,the air near the surface is warm and contains much vapour1 though below the point of saturation4 ,but the innumerable points and extensive surfaces of grass radiate heat quickly1 and becoming cool1 lower the temperature of the adjacent air1 which then reaches saturation point and condenses the contained atmosphere on the grass4 ,hence1 if the atmosphere at the earth's surface became super-saturated with aqueous vapour1 dew would be continuously deposited1 especially on every form of vegetation1 the result being that everything1 including our clothing1 would be constantly dripping wet4 ,if there were absolutely no particles of solid matter in the upper atmosphere1 all the moisture would be returned to the earth in the form of dense mists1 and frequent and copious dews1 which in forests would form torrents of rain by the rapid condensation on the leaves4 ,but if we suppose that solid particles were occasionally carried higher up through violent winds or tornadoes1 then on those occasions the super-saturated atmosphere would condense rapidly upon them1 and while falling would gather almost all the moisture in the atmosphere in that locality1 resulting in masses or sheets of water1 which would be so ruinously destructive by the mere weight and impetus of their fall that it is doubtful whether they would not render the earth almost wholly uninhabitable4 ,the chief mode of discharging the atmospheric vapour in the absence of dust would1 however1 be by contact with the higher slopes of all mountain ranges4 ,atmospheric vapour1 being lighter than air1 would accumulate in enormous quantities in the upper strata of the atmosphere1 which would be always super-saturated and ready to condense upon any solid or liquid surfaces4 ,but the quantity of land comprised in the upper half of all the mountains of the world is a very small fraction of the total surface of the globe1 and this would lead to very disastrous results4 ,the air in contact with the higher mountain slopes would rapidly discharge its water1 which would run down the mountain sides in torrents4 ,this condensation on every side of the mountains would leave a partial vacuum which would set up currents from every direction to restore the equilibrium1 thus bringing in more super-saturated air to suffer condensation and add its supply of water1 again increasing the in-draught of more air4 ,the result would be that winds would be constantly blowing toward every mountain range from all directions1 keeping up the condensation and discharging1 day and night and from one year's end to another1 an amount of water equal to that which falls during the heaviest tropical rains4 ,all of the rain that now falls over the whole surface of the earth and ocean1 with the exception of a few desert areas1 would then fall only on rather high mountains or steep isolated hills1 tearing down their sides in huge torrents1 cutting deep ravines1 and rendering all growth of vegetation impossible4 ,the mountains would therefore be so devastated as to be uninhabitable1 and would be equally incapable of supporting either vegetable or animal life4 ,but this constant condensation on the mountains would probably check the deposit on the lowlands in the form of dew1 because the continual up-draught toward the higher slopes would withdraw almost the whole of the vapour as it arose from the oceans1 and other water-surfaces1 and thus leave the lower strata over the plains almost or quite dry4 ,and if this were the case there would be no vegetation1 and therefore no animal life1 on the plains and lowlands1 which would thus be all arid deserts cut through by the great rivers formed by the meeting together of the innumerable torrents from the mountains4 ,now1 although it may not be possible to determine with perfect accuracy what would happen under the supposed condition of the atmosphere1 it is certain that the total absence of dust would so fundamentally change the meteorology of our globe as1 not improbably1 to render it uninhabitable by man1 and equally unsuitable for the larger portion of its existing animal and vegetable life4 ,let us now briefly summarise what we owe to the universality of dust1 and especially to that most finely divided portion of it which is constantly present in the atmosphere up to the height of many miles4 ,first of all it gives us the pure blue of the sky1 one of the most exquisitely beautiful colours in nature4 ,it gives us also the glories of the sunset and the sunrise1 and all those brilliant hues seen in high mountain regions4 ,half the beauty of the world would vanish with the absence of dust4 ,but1 what is far more important than the colour of sky and beauty of sunset1 dust gives us also diffused daylight1 or skylight1 that most equable1 and soothing1 and useful1 of all illuminating agencies4 ,without dust the sky would appear absolutely black1 and the stars would be visible even at noonday4 ,the sky itself would therefore give us no light4 ,we should have bright glaring sunlight or intensely dark shadows1 with hardly any half-tones4 ,from this cause alone the world would be so totally different from what it is that all vegetable and animal life would probably have developed into very different forms1 and even our own organisation would have been modified in order that we might enjoy life in a world of such harsh and violent contrasts4 ,in our houses we should have little light except when the sun shone directly into them1 and even then every spot out of its direct rays would be completely dark1 except for light reflected from the walls4 ,it would be necessary to have windows all around and the walls all white2 and on the north side of every house a high white wall would have to be built to reflect the light and prevent that side from being in total darkness4 ,even then we should have to live in a perpetual glare1 or shut out the sun altogether and use artificial light as being a far superior article4 ,much more important would be the effects of a dust-free atmosphere in banishing clouds1 or mist1 or the gentle rain of heaven1 and in giving us in their place perpetual sunshine1 desert lowlands1 and mountains devastated by unceasing floods and raging torrents1 so as1 apparently1 to render all life on the earth impossible4 ,there are a few other phenomena1 apparently due to the same general causes1 which may here be referred to4 ,everyone must have noticed the difference in the atmospheric effects and general character of the light in spring and autumn1 at times when the days are of the same length1 and consequently when the sun has the same altitude at corresponding hours4 ,in spring we have a bluer sky and greater transparency of the atmosphere2 in autumn1 even on very fine days1 there is always a kind of yellowish haze1 resulting in a want of clearness in the air and purity of colour in the sky4 ,these phenomena are quite intelligible when we consider that during winter less dust is formed1 and more is brought down to the earth by rain and snow1 resulting in the transparent atmosphere of spring1 while exactly opposite conditions during summer bring about the mellow autumnal light4 ,again1 the well-known beneficial effects of rain on vegetation1 as compared with any amount of artificial watering1 though1 no doubt1 largely due to the minute quantity of ammonia which the rain brings down with it from the air1 must yet be partly derived from the organic or mineral particles which serve as the nuclei of every raindrop1 and which1 being so minute1 are the more readily dissolved in the soil and appropriated as nourishment by the roots of plants4 ,it will be observed that all these beneficial effects of dust are due to its presence in such quantities as are produced by natural causes1 since both gentle showers as well as ample rains and deep blue skies are present throughout the vast equatorial forest districts1 where dust-forming agencies seem to be at a minimum4 ,but in all densely-populated countries there is an enormous artificial production of dust--from our ploughed fields1 from our roads and streets1 where dust is continually formed by the iron-shod hoofs of innumerable horses1 but chiefly from our enormous combustion of fuel pouring into the air volumes of smoke charged with unconsumed particles of carbon4 ,this superabundance of dust1 probably many times greater than that which would be produced under the more natural conditions which prevailed when our country was more thinly populated1 must almost certainly produce some effect on our climate2 and the particular effect it seems calculated to produce is the increase of cloud and fog1 but not necessarily any increase of rain4 ,rain depends on the supply of aqueous vapour by evaporation2 on temperature1 which determines the dew point2 and on changes in barometric pressure1 which determine the winds4 ,there is probably always and everywhere enough atmospheric dust to serve as centres of condensation at considerable altitudes1 and thus to initiate rainfall when the other conditions are favourable2 but the presence of increased quantities of dust at the lower levels must lead to the formation of denser clouds1 although the minute water-vesicles cannot descend as rain1 because1 as they pass down into warmer and dryer strata of air1 they are again evaporated4 ,now1 there is much evidence to show that there has been a considerable increase in the amount of cloud1 and consequent decrease in the amount of sunshine1 in all parts of our country4 ,it is an undoubted fact that in the ,middle ,ages ,england was a wine-producing country1 and this implies more sunshine than we have now4 ,sunshine has a double effect1 in heating the surface soil and thus causing more rapid growth1 besides its direct effect in ripening the fruit4 ,this is well seen in ,canada1 where1 notwithstanding a six months' winter of extreme severity1 vines are grown as bushes in the open ground1 and produce fruit equal to that of our ordinary greenhouses4 ,some years back one of our gardening periodicals obtained from gardeners of forty or fifty years' experience a body of facts clearly indicating a comparatively recent change of climate4 ,it was stated that in many parts of the country1 especially in the north1 fruits were formerly grown successfully and of good quality in gardens where they cannot be grown now2 and this occurred in places sufficiently removed from manufacturing centres to be unaffected by any direct deleterious influence of smoke4 ,but an increase of cloud1 and consequent diminution of sunshine1 would produce just such a result2 and this increase is almost certain to have occurred owing to the enormously increased amount of dust thrown into the atmosphere as our country has become more densely populated1 and especially owing to the vast increase of our smoke-producing manufactories4 ,it seems highly probable1 therefore1 that to increase the wealth of our capitalist-manufacturers we are allowing the climate of our whole country to be greatly deteriorated in a way which diminishes both its productiveness and its beauty1 thus injuriously affecting the enjoyment and the health of the whole population1 since sunshine is itself an essential condition of healthy life4 ,when this fact is thoroughly realised we shall surely put a stop to such a reckless and wholly unnecessary production of injurious smoke and dust4 ,in conclusion1 we find that the much-abused and all-pervading dust1 which1 when too freely produced1 deteriorates our climate and brings us dirt1 discomfort1 and even disease1 is1 nevertheless1 under natural conditions1 an essential portion of the economy of nature4 ,it gives us much of the beauty of natural scenery1 as due to varying atmospheric effects of sky1 and cloud1 and sunset tints1 and thus renders life more enjoyable2 while1 as an essential condition of diffused daylight and of moderate rainfalls combined with a dry atmosphere1 it appears to be absolutely necessary for our existence upon the earth1 perhaps even for the very development of terrestrial1 as opposed to aquatic life4 ,the overwhelming importance of the small things1 and even of the despised things1 of our world has never1 perhaps1 been so strikingly brought home to us as in these recent investigations into the wide-spread and far-reaching beneficial influences of ,atmospheric ,dust4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #fa3 ,chapter ,,ix of ,the ,wonderful ,century1 copyright1 #ahih1 by ,dodd1 ,mead and ,company4 ,the chapter is here reprinted by permission of the author1 ,dr4 ,wallace1 and of the publishers4 ,,the ,,battle ,,of ,,the ,,ants#fb ,,henry ,,david ,,thoreau ,one day when ,i went out to my wood-pile1 or rather my pile of stumps1 ,i observed two large ants1 the one red1 the other much larger1 nearly half an inch long1 and black1 fiercely contending with one another4 ,having once got hold they never let go1 but struggled and wrestled and rolled on the chips incessantly4 ,looking farther1 ,i was surprised to find that the chips were covered with such combatants1 that it was not a duellum1 but a bellum1 a war between two races of ants1 the red always pitted against the black1 and frequently two red ones to one black4 ,the legions of these ,myrmidons covered all the hills and vales in my wood-yard1 and the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying1 both red and black4 ,it was the only battle which ,i have ever witnessed1 the only battlefield ,i ever trod while the battle was raging2 internecine war2 the red republicans on the one hand1 and the black imperialists on the other4 ,on every side they were engaged in deadly combat1 yet without any noise that ,i could hear1 and human soldiers never fought so resolutely4 ,i watched a couple that were fast locked in each other's embraces1 in a little sunny valley amid the chips1 now at noon-day prepared to fight till the sun went down1 or life went out4 ,the smaller red champion had fastened himself like a vice to his adversary's front1 and through all the tumblings on that field never for an instant ceased to gnaw at one of his feelers near the root1 having already caused the other to go by the board2 while the stronger black one dashed him from side to side1 and1 as ,i saw on looking nearer1 had already divested him of several of his members4 ,they fought with more pertinacity than bull-dogs4 ,neither manifested the least disposition to retreat4 ,it was evident that their battle-cry was ,conquer or ,die4 ,in the meanwhile there came along a single red ant on the hill-side of this valley1 evidently full of excitement1 who either had despatched his foe1 or had not yet taken part in the battle2 probably the latter1 for he had lost none of his limbs2 whose mother had charged him to return with his shield or upon it4 ,or perchance he was some ,achilles1 who had nourished his wrath apart1 and had now come to avenge or rescue his ,patroclus4#fc ,he saw this unequal combat from afar1--for the blacks were nearly twice the size of the reds2 he drew near with rapid pace till he stood on his guard within half an inch of the combatants2 then1 watching his opportunity1 he sprang upon the black warrior1 and commenced his operations near the root of his right foreleg1 leaving the foe to select among his own members2 and so there were three united for life1 as if a new kind of attraction had been invented which put all other locks and cements to shame4 ,i should not have wondered by this time to find that they had their respective musical bands stationed on some eminent chip1 and playing their national airs the while1 to excite the slow and cheer the dying combatants4 ,i was myself excited somewhat even as if they had been men4 ,the more you think of it1 the less the difference4 ,and certainly there is not the fight recorded in ,concord history1 at least1 if in the history of ,america1 that will bear a moment's comparison with this1 whether for the numbers engaged in it1 or for the patriotism and heroism displayed4 ,for numbers and for carnage it was an ,austerlitz or ,dresden4 ,concord ,fight6 ,two killed on the patriots' side1 and ,luther ,blanchard wounded6 ,why here every ant was a ,buttrick1--,fire6 for ,god's sake1 fire6--and thousands shared the fate of ,davis and ,hosmer4 ,there was not one hireling there4 ,i have no doubt that it was a principle they fought for1 as much as our ancestors1 and not to avoid a three-penny tax on their tea2 and the results of this battle will be as important and memorable to those whom it concerns as those of the battle of ,bunker ,hill1 at least4 ,i took up the chip on which the three ,i have particularly described were struggling1 carried it into my house1 and placed it under a tumbler on my window-sill1 in order to see the issue4 ,holding a microscope to the first-mentioned red ant1 ,i saw that1 though he was assiduously gnawing at the near fore-leg of his enemy1 having severed his remaining feeler1 his own breast was all torn away1 exposing what vitals he had there to the jaws of the black warrior1 whose breast-plate was apparently too thick for him to pierce2 and the dark carbuncles of the sufferer's eyes shone with ferocity such as war only could excite4 ,they struggled half an hour longer under the tumbler1 and when ,i looked again the black soldier had severed the heads of his foes from their bodies1 and the still living heads were hanging on either side of him like ghastly trophies at his saddlebow1 still apparently as firmly fastened as ever1 and he was endeavoring with feeble struggles1 being without feelers and with only the remnant of a leg1 and ,i know not how many other wounds1 to divest himself of them2 which at length1 after half an hour more1 he accomplished4 ,i raised the glass1 and he went off over the window-sill in that crippled state4 ,whether he finally survived that combat1 and spent the remainder of his days in some ,hotel des ,invalides1 ,i do not know2 but ,i thought that his industry would not be worth much thereafter4 ,i never learned which party was victorious1 nor the cause of the war2 but ,i felt for the rest of that day as if ,i had had my feelings excited and harrowed by witnessing the struggle1 the ferocity and carnage1 of a human battle before my door4 ,kirby and ,spence tell us that the battles of ants have long been celebrated and the date of them recorded1 though they say that ,huber is the only modern author who appears to have witnessed them4 ,aeneas ,sylvius1 say they1 after giving a very circumstantial account of one contested with great obstinacy by a great and small species on the trunk of a pear tree1 adds that ',this action was fought in the pontificate of ,eugenius the ,fourth1 in the presence of ,nicholas ,pistoriensis1 an eminent lawyer1 who related the whole history of the battle with the greatest fidelity4' ,a similar engagement between great and small ants is recorded by ,olaus ,magnus1 in which the small ones being victorious1 are said to have buried the bodies of their own soldiers1 but left those of their giant enemies a prey to the birds4 ,this event happened previous to the expulsion of the tyrant ,christiern the ,second from ,sweden4 ,the battle which ,i witnessed took place in the ,presidency of ,polk1 five years before the passage of ,webster's ,fugitive-,slave ,bill4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #fb3 ,from ,chapter ,,xii of ,walden1 #ahed4 ,footnote #fc3 ,patroclus1 in ,homer's ,iliad1 was the friend whose death at the hands of the ,trojans roused ,achilles to action4 ,a ,,wind-,,storm ,,in ,,the ,,forests#fd ,,john ,,muir ,the mountain winds1 like the dew and rain1 sunshine and snow1 are measured and bestowed with love on the forests1 to develop their strength and beauty4 ,however restricted the scope of other forest influences1 that of the winds is universal4 ,the snow bends and trims the upper forests every winter1 the lightning strikes a single tree here and there1 while avalanches mow down thousands at a swoop as a gardener trims out a bed of flowers4 ,but the winds go to every tree1 fingering every leaf and branch and furrowed hole2 not one is forgotten3 the ,mountain ,pine towering with outstretched arms on the rugged buttresses of the icy peaks1 the lowliest and most retiring tenant of the dells--they seek and find them all1 caressing them tenderly1 bending them in lusty exercise1 stimulating their growth1 plucking off a leaf or limb as required1 or removing an entire tree or grove1 now whispering and cooing through the branches like a sleepy child1 now roaring like the ocean2 the winds blessing the forests1 the forests the winds1 with ineffable beauty and harmony as the sure result4 ,after one has seen pines six feet in diameter bending like grasses before a mountain gale1 and ever and anon some giant falling with a crash that shakes the hills1 it seems astonishing that any1 save the lowest thick-set trees1 could ever have found a period sufficiently stormless to establish themselves2 or once established1 that they should not sooner or later have been blown down4 ,but when the storm is over1 and we behold the same forests tranquil again1 towering fresh and unscathed in erect majesty1 and consider what centuries of storms have fallen upon them since they were first planted3 hail1 to break the tender seedlings2 lightning1 to scorch and shatter2 snow1 winds1 and avalanches1 to crush and overwhelm1--while the manifest result of all this wild storm-culture is the glorious perfection we behold3 then faith in ,nature's forestry is established1 and we cease to deplore the violence of her most destructive gales1 or of any other storm implement whatsoever4 ,there are two trees in the ,sierra forests that are never blown down1 so long as they continue in sound health4 ,these are the ,juniper and the ,dwarf ,pine of the summit peaks4 ,their stiff1 crooked roots grip the storm-beaten ledges like eagles' claws2 while their lithe1 cord-like branches bend round compliantly1 offering but slight holds for winds1 however violent4 ,the other alpine conifers--the ,needle ,pine1 ,mountain ,pine1 ,two-leaved ,pine1 and ,hemlock ,spruce--are never thinned out by this agent to any destructive extent1 on account of their admirable toughness and the closeness of their growth4 ,in general the same is true of the giants of the lower zones4 ,the kingly ,sugar ,pine1 towering aloft to a height of more than two hundred feet1 offers a fine mark to storm-winds2 but it is not densely foliaged1 and its long horizontal arms swing round compliantly in the blast1 like tresses of green1 fluent algae in a brook3 while the ,silver ,firs in most places keep their ranks well together in united strength4 ,the ,yellow or ,silver ,pine is more frequently overturned than any other tree on the ,sierra1 because its leaves and branches form a larger mass in proportion to its height2 while in many places it is planted sparsely1 leaving open lanes through which storms may enter with full force4 ,furthermore1 because it is distributed along the lower portion of the range1 which was the first to be left bare on the breaking up of the ice-sheet at the close of the glacial winter1 the soil it is growing upon has been longer exposed to post-glacial weathering1 and consequently is in a more crumbling1 decayed condition than the fresher soils farther up the range1 and therefore offers a less secure anchorage for the roots4 ,while exploring the forest zones of ,mount ,shasta1 ,i discovered the path of a hurricane strewn with thousands of pines of this species4 ,great and small had been uprooted or wrenched off by sheer force1 making a clean gap1 like that made by a snow avalanche4 ,but hurricanes capable of doing this class of work are rare in the ,sierra2 and when we have explored the forests from one extremity of the range to the other1 we are compelled to believe that they are the most beautiful on the face of the earth1 however we may regard the agents that have made them so4 ,there is always something deeply exciting1 not only in the sounds of winds in the woods1 which exert more or less influence over every mind1 but in their varied water-like flow as manifested by the movements of the trees1 especially those of the conifers4 ,by no other trees are they rendered so extensively and impressively visible2 not even by the lordly tropic palms or tree-ferns responsive to the gentlest breeze4 ,the waving of a forest of the giant ,sequoias is indescribably impressive and sublime2 but the pines seem to me the best interpreters of winds4 ,they are mighty waving golden-rods1 ever in tune1 singing and writing wind-music all their long century lives4 ,little1 however1 of this noble tree-waving and tree-music will you see or hear in the strictly alpine portion of the forests4 ,the burly ,juniper whose girth sometimes more than equals its height1 is about as rigid as the rocks on which it grows4 ,the slender lash-like sprays of the ,dwarf ,pine stream out in wavering ripples1 but the tallest and slenderest are far too unyielding to wave even in the heaviest gales4 ,they only shake in quick1 short vibrations4 ,the ,hemlock ,spruce1 however1 and the ,mountain ,pine1 and some of the tallest thickets of the ,two-leaved species1 bow in storms with considerable scope and gracefulness4 ,but it is only in the lower and middle zones that the meeting of winds and woods is to be seen in all its grandeur4 ,one of the most beautiful and exhilarating storms ,i ever enjoyed in the ,sierra occurred in ,december1 #ahgd1 when ,i happened to be exploring one of the tributary valleys of the ,yuba ,river4 ,the sky and the ground and the trees had been thoroughly rain-washed and were dry again4 ,the day was intensely pure3 one of those incomparable bits of ,california winter1 warm and balmy and full of white sparkling sunshine1 redolent of all the purest influences of the spring1 and at the same time enlivened with one of the most bracing wind-storms conceivable4 ,instead of camping out1 as ,i usually do1 ,i then chanced to be stopping at the house of a friend4 ,but when the storm began to sound1 ,i lost no time in pushing out into the woods to enjoy it4 ,for on such occasions ,nature has always something rare to show us1 and the danger to life and limb is hardly greater than one would experience crouching deprecatingly beneath a roof4 ,it was still early morning when ,i found myself fairly adrift4 ,delicious sunshine came pouring over the hills1 lighting the tops of the pines1 and setting free a steam of summery fragrance that contrasted strangely with the wild tones of the storm4 ,the air was mottled with pine-tassels and bright green plumes1 that went flashing past in the sunlight like birds pursued4 ,but there was not the slightest dustiness2 nothing less pure than leaves1 and ripe pollen1 and flecks of withered bracken and moss4 ,i heard trees falling for hours at the rate of one every two or three minutes3 some uprooted1 partly on account of the loose1 water-soaked condition of the ground2 others broken straight across1 where some weakness caused by fire had determined the spot4 ,the gestures of the various trees made a delightful study4 ,young ,sugar ,pines1 light and feathery as squirrel-tails1 were bowing almost to the ground2 while the grand old patriarchs1 whose massive boles had been tried in a hundred storms1 waved solemnly above them1 their long1 arching branches streaming fluently on the gale1 and every needle thrilling and ringing and shedding off keen lances of light like a diamond4 ,the ,douglas ,spruces1 with long sprays drawn out in level tresses1 and needles massed in a gray1 shimmering glow1 presented a most striking appearance as they stood in bold relief along the hilltops4 ,the madroos in the dells1 with their red bark and large glossy leaves tilted every way1 reflected the sunshine in throbbing spangles like those one so often sees on the rippled surface of a glacier lake4 ,but the ,silver ,pines were now the most impressively beautiful of all4 ,colossal spires two hundred feet in height waved like supple golden-rods chanting and bowing low as if in worship2 while the whole mass of their long1 tremulous foliage was kindled into one continuous blaze of white sun-fire4 ,the force of the gale was such that the most steadfast monarch of them all rocked down to its roots1 with a motion plainly perceptible when one leaned against it4 ,nature was holding high festival1 and every fiber of the most rigid giants thrilled with glad excitement4 ,i drifted on through the midst of this passionate music and motion1 across many a glen1 from ridge to ridge2 often halting in the lee of a rock for shelter1 or to gaze and listen4 ,even when the grand anthem had swelled to its highest pitch1 ,i could distinctly hear the varying tones of individual trees--,spruce1 and ,fir1 and ,pine1 and leafless ,oak--and even the infinitely gentle rustle of the withered grasses at my feet4 ,each was expressing itself in its own way--singing its own song1 and making its own peculiar gestures--manifesting a richness of variety to be found in no other forest ,i have yet seen4 ,the coniferous woods of ,canada and the ,carolinas and ,florida1 are made up of trees that resemble one another about as nearly as blades of grass1 and grow close together in much the same way4 ,coniferous trees1 in general1 seldom possess individual character1 such as is manifest among ,oaks and ,elms4 ,but the ,california forests are made up of a greater number of distinct species than any other in the world4 ,and in them we find1 not only a marked differentiation into special groups1 but also a marked individuality in almost every tree1 giving rise to storm effects indescribably glorious4 ,toward midday1 after a long1 tingling scramble through copses of hazel and ceanothus1 ,i gained the summit of the highest ridge in the neighborhood2 and then it occurred to me that it would be a fine thing to climb one of the trees1 to obtain a wider outlook and get my ear close to the ,aeolian music of its topmost needles4 ,but under the circumstances the choice of a tree was a serious matter4 ,one whose instep was not very strong seemed in danger of being blown down1 or of being struck by others in case they should fall2 another was branchless to a considerable height above the ground1 and at the same time too large to be grasped with arms and legs in climbing2 while others were not favorably situated for clear views4 ,after cautiously casting about1 ,i made choice of the tallest of a group of ,douglas ,spruces that were growing close together like a tuft of grass1 no one of which seemed likely to fall unless all the rest fell with it4 ,though comparatively young1 they were about a hundred feet high1 and their lithe1 brushy tops were rocking and swirling in wild ecstasy4 ,being accustomed to climb trees in making botanical studies1 ,i experienced no difficulty in reaching the top of this one2 and never before did ,i enjoy so noble an exhilaration of motion4 ,the slender tops fairly flapped and swished in the passionate torrent1 bending and swirling backward and forward1 round and round1 tracing indescribable combinations of vertical and horizontal curves1 while ,i clung with muscles firm-braced1 like a bobolink on a reed4 ,in its widest sweeps my tree-top described an arc of from twenty to thirty degrees2 but ,i felt sure of its elastic temper1 having seen others of the same species still more severely tried--bent almost to the ground indeed1 in heavy snows--without breaking a fiber4 ,i was therefore safe1 and free to take the wind into my pulses and enjoy the excited forest from my superb outlook4 ,the view from here must be extremely beautiful in any weather4 ,now my eye roved over the piny hills and dales as over fields of waving grain1 and felt the light running in ripples and broad swelling undulations across the valleys from ridge to ridge1 as the shining foliage was stirred by corresponding waves of air4 ,oftentimes these waves of reflected light would break one another in regular order1 they would seem to bend forward in concentric curves1 and disappear on some hillside1 like sea waves on a shelving shore4 ,the quantity of light reflected from the bent needles was so great as to make whole groves appear as if covered with snow1 while the black shadows beneath the trees greatly enhanced the effect of the silvery splendor4 ,excepting only the shadows1 there was nothing somber in all this wild sea of pines4 ,on the contrary1 notwithstanding this was the winter season1 the colors were remarkably beautiful4 ,the shafts of the pine and libocedrus were brown and purple1 and most of the foliage was well tinged with yellow2 the laurel groves1 with the pale under sides of their leaves turned upward1 made masses of gray2 and then there was many a dash of chocolate color from clumps of manzanita1 and jet of vivid crimson from the bark of the madroos2 while the ground on the hillsides1 appearing here and there through openings between the groves1 displayed masses of pale purple and brown4 ,the sounds of the storm corresponded gloriously with this wild exuberance of light and motion4 ,the profound bass of the naked branches and boles booming like waterfalls2 the quick1 tense vibrations of the pine-needles1 now rising to a shrill1 whistling hiss1 now falling to a silky murmur2 the rustling of laurel groves in the dells1 and the keen metallic click of leaf on leaf--all this was heard in easy analysis when the attention was calmly bent4 ,the varied gestures of the multitude were seen to find advantage1 so that one could recognize the different species at a distance of several miles by this means alone1 as well as by their forms and colors and the way they reflected the light4 ,all seemed strong and comfortable1 as if really enjoying the storm1 while responding to its most enthusiastic greetings4 ,we hear much nowadays concerning the universal struggle for existence1 but no struggle in the common meaning of the word was manifest here2 no recognition of danger by any tree2 no deprecation2 but rather an invincible gladness1 as remote from exultation as from fear4 ,i kept my lofty perch for hours1 frequently closing my eyes to enjoy the music by itself1 or to feast quietly on the delicious fragrance that was streaming past4 ,the fragrance of the woods was less marked than that produced during warm rain1 when so many balsamic buds and leaves are steeped like tea2 but from the chafing of resiny branches against each other1 and the incessant attrition of myriads of needles1 the gale was spiced to a very tonic degree4 ,and besides the fragrance from these local sources1 there were traces of scents brought from afar4 ,for this wind came first from the sea1 rubbing against its fresh1 briny waves1 then distilled through the redwoods1 threading rich ferny gulches1 and spreading itself in broad undulating currents over many a flower-enameled ridge of the coast mountains1 then across the golden plains1 up the purple foot-hills1 and into these piny woods with the varied incense gathered by the way4 ,winds are advertisements of all they touch1 however much or little we may be able to read them2 telling their wanderings even by their scents alone4 ,mariners detect the flowery perfume of land-winds far at sea1 and sea-winds carry the fragrance of dulce and tangle far inland1 where it is quickly recognized1 though mingled with the scents of a thousand land-flowers4 ,as an illustration of this1 ,i may tell here that ,i breathed sea-air on the ,firth of ,forth1 in ,scotland1 while a boy2 then was taken to ,wisconsin1 where ,i remained nineteen years2 then1 without in all this time having breathed one breath of the sea1 ,i walked quietly1 alone1 from the middle of the ,mississippi ,valley to the ,gulf of ,mexico1 on a botanical excursion2 and while in ,florida1 far from the coast1 my attention wholly bent on the splendid tropical vegetation about me1 ,i suddenly recognized a sea-breeze1 as it came sifting through the palmettos and blooming vine-tangles1 which at once awakened and set free a thousand dormant associations1 and made me a boy again in ,scotland1 as if all the intervening years had been annihilated4 ,most people like to look at mountain rivers1 and bear them in mind2 but few care to look at the winds1 though far more beautiful and sublime1 and though they become at times about as visible as flowing water4 ,when the north winds in winter are making upward sweeps over the curving summits of the ,high ,sierra1 the fact is sometimes published with flying snow-banners a mile long4 ,those portions of the winds thus embodied can scarce be wholly invisible1 even to the darkest imagination4 ,and when we look around over an agitated forest1 we may see something of the wind that stirs it1 by its effects upon the trees4 ,yonder it descends in a rush of water-like ripples1 and sweeps over the bending pines from hill to hill4 ,nearer1 we see detached plumes and leaves1 now speeding by on level currents1 now whirling in eddies1 or escaping over the edges of the whirls1 soaring aloft on grand1 upswelling domes of air1 or tossing on flame-like crests4 ,smooth1 deep currents1 cascades1 falls1 and swirling eddies1 sing around every tree and leaf1 and over all the varied topography of the region with telling changes of form1 like mountain rivers conforming to the features of their channels4 ,after tracing the ,sierra streams from their fountains to the plains1 marking where they bloom white in falls1 glide in crystal plumes1 surge gray and foam-filled in bowlder-choked gorges1 and slip through the woods in long1 tranquil reaches--after thus learning their language and forms in detail1 we may at length hear them chanting all together in one grand anthem1 and comprehend them all in clear inner vision1 covering the range like lace4 ,but even this spectacle is far less sublime and not a whit more substantial than what we may behold of these storm-streams of air in the mountain woods4 ,we all travel the ,milky ,way together1 trees and men2 but it never occurred to me until this storm day1 while swinging in the wind1 that trees are travelers1 in the ordinary sense4 ,they make many journeys2 not extensive ones1 it is true2 but our own little journeys1 away and back again1 are only little more than tree-wavings--many of them not so much4 ,when the storm began to abate1 ,i dismounted and sauntered down through the calming woods4 ,the storm-tones died away1 and turning toward the east1 ,i beheld the countless hosts of the forests hushed and tranquil1 towering above one another on the slopes of the hills like a devout audience4 ,the setting sun filled them with amber light1 and seemed to say1 while they listened1 ,my peace ,i give unto you4 ,as ,i gazed on the impressive scene1 all the so-called ruin of the storm was forgotten2 and never before did these noble woods appear so fresh1 so joyous1 so immortal4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #fd3 ,from ,the ,mountains of ,california1 copyright #ahid4 ,printed here by permission of the ,century ,company4 ,,walden ,,pond#fe ,,henry ,,david ,,thoreau ,occasionally1 after my hoeing was done for the day1 ,i joined some impatient companion who had been fishing on the pond since morning1 as silent and motionless as a duck or a floating leaf1 and1 after practising various kinds of philosophy1 had concluded commonly1 by the time ,i arrived1 that he belonged to the ancient sect of ,coenobites4 ,there was one older man1 an excellent fisher and skilled in all kinds of woodcraft1 who was pleased to look upon my house as a building erected for the convenience of fishermen2 and ,i was equally pleased when he sat in my doorway to arrange his lines4 ,once in a while we sat together on the pond1 he at one end of the boat1 and ,i at the other2 but not many words passed between us1 for he had grown deaf in his later years1 but he occasionally hummed a psalm1 which harmonized well enough with my philosophy4 ,our intercourse was thus altogether one of unbroken harmony1 far more pleasing to remember than if it had been carried on by speech4 ,when1 as was commonly the case1 ,i had none to commune with1 ,i used to raise the echoes by striking with a paddle on the side of my boat1 filling the surrounding woods with circling and dilating sound1 stirring them up as the keeper of a menagerie his wild beasts1 until ,i elicited a growl from every wooded vale and hillside4 ,in warm evenings ,i frequently sat in the boat playing the flute1 and saw the perch1 which ,i seemed to have charmed1 hovering around me1 and the moon travelling over the ribbed bottom1 which was strewed with the wrecks of the forest4 ,formerly ,i had come to this pond adventurously1 from time to time1 in dark summer nights1 with a companion1 and making a fire close to the water's edge1 which we thought attracted the fishes1 we caught pouts with a bunch of worms strung on a thread2 and when we had done1 far in the night1 threw the burning brands high into the air like sky-rockets1 which1 coming down into the pond1 were quenched with a loud hissing1 and we were suddenly groping in total darkness4 ,through this1 whistling a tune1 we took our way to the haunts of men again4 ,but now ,i had made my home by the shore4 ,sometimes1 after staying in a village parlor till the family had all retired1 ,i have returned to the woods1 and1 partly with a view to the next day's dinner1 spent the hours of midnight fishing from a boat by moonlight1 serenaded by owls and foxes1 and hearing1 from time to time1 the creaking note of some unknown bird close at hand4 ,these experiences were very memorable and valuable to me1--anchored in forty feet of water1 and twenty or thirty rods from the shore1 surrounded sometimes by thousands of small perch and shiners1 dimpling the surface with their tails in the moonlight1 and communicating by a long flaxen line with mysterious nocturnal fishes which had their dwelling forty feet below1 or sometimes dragging sixty feet of line about the pond as ,i drifted in the gentle night breeze1 now and then feeling a slight vibration along it1 indicative of some life prowling about its extremity1 of dull uncertain blundering purpose there1 and slow to make up its mind4 ,at length you slowly raise1 pulling hand over hand1 some homed pout squeaking and squirming to the upper air4 ,it was very queer1 especially in dark nights1 when your thoughts had wandered to vast and cosmogonal themes in other spheres1 to feel this faint jerk1 which came to interrupt your dreams and link you to ,nature again4 ,it seemed as if ,i might next cast my line upward into the air1 as well as downward into this element which was scarcely more dense4 ,thus ,i caught two fishes as it were with one hook4 ,the scenery of ,walden is on a humble scale1 and1 though very beautiful1 does not approach to grandeur1 nor can it much concern one who has not long frequented it1 or lived by its shore2 yet this pond is so remarkable for its depth and purity as to merit a particular description4 ,it is a clear and deep green well1 half a mile long and a mile and three quarters in circumference1 and contains about sixty-one and a half acres2 a perennial spring in the midst of pine and oak woods1 without any visible inlet or outlet except by the clouds and evaporation4 ,the surrounding hills rise abruptly from the water to the height of forty to eighty feet1 though on the southeast and east they attain to about one hundred and one hundred and fifty feet respectively1 within a quarter and a third of a mile4 ,they are exclusively woodland4 ,all our ,concord waters have two colors at least1 one when viewed at a distance1 and another1 more proper1 close at hand4 ,the first depends more on the light1 and follows the sky4 ,in clear weather1 in summer1 they appear blue at a little distance1 especially if agitated1 and at a great distance all appear alike4 ,in stormy weather they are sometimes of a dark slate color4 ,the sea1 however1 is said to be blue one day and green another without any perceptible change in the atmosphere4 ,i have seen our river1 when1 the landscape being covered with snow1 both water and ice were almost as green as grass4 ,some consider blue to be the color of pure water1 whether liquid or solid4 ,but looking directly down into our waters from a boat1 they are seen to be of very different colors4 ,walden is blue at one time and green at another1 even from the same point of view4 ,lying between the earth and the heavens1 it partakes of the color of both4 ,viewed from a hilltop it reflects the color of the sky1 but near at hand it is of a yellowish tint next the shore where you can see the sand1 then a light green1 which gradually deepens to a uniform dark green in the body of the pond4 ,in some lights1 viewed even from a hilltop1 it is of a vivid green next the shore4 ,some have referred this to the reflection of the verdure2 but it is equally green there against the railroad sand-bank1 and in the spring1 before the leaves are expanded1 and it may be simply the result of the prevailing blue mixed with the yellow of the sand4 ,such is the color of its iris4 ,this is that portion1 also1 where in the spring1 the ice being warmed by the heat of the sun reflected from the bottom1 and also transmitted through the earth1 melts first and forms a narrow canal about the still frozen middle4 ,like the rest of our waters1 when much agitated1 in clear weather1 so that the surface of the waves may reflect the sky at the right angle1 or because there is more light mixed with it1 it appears at a little distance of a darker blue than the sky itself2 and at such a time1 being on its surface1 and looking with divided vision1 so as to see the reflection1 ,i have discerned a matchless and indescribable light blue1 such as watered or changeable silks and sword blades suggest1 more cerulean than the sky itself1 alternating with the original dark green on the opposite sides of the waves1 which last appeared but muddy in comparison4 ,it is a vitreous greenish blue1 as ,i remember it1 like those patches of the winter sky seen through cloud vistas in the west before sundown4 ,yet a single glass of its water held up to the light is as colorless as an equal quantity of air4 ,it is well-known that a large plate of glass will have a green tint1 owing1 as the makers say1 to its body1 but a small piece of the same will be colorless4 ,how large a body of ,walden water would be required to reflect a green tint ,i have never proved4 ,the water of our river is black or a very dark brown to one looking directly down on it1 and like that of most ponds1 imparts to the body of one bathing in it a yellowish tinge2 but this water is of such crystalline purity that the body of the bather appears of an alabaster whiteness1 still more unnatural1 which1 as the limbs are magnified and distorted withal1 produces a monstrous effect1 making fit studies for a ,michael ,angelo4 ,the water is so transparent that the bottom can easily be discerned at the depth of twenty-five or thirty feet4 ,paddling over it1 you may see many feet beneath the surface the schools of perch and shiners1 perhaps only an inch long1 yet the former easily distinguished by their transverse bars1 and you think that they must be ascetic fish that find a subsistence there4 ,once1 in the winter1 many years ago1 when ,i had been cutting holes through the ice in order to catch pickerel1 as ,i stepped ashore ,i tossed my axe back on to the ice1 but1 as if some evil genius had directed it1 it slid four or five rods directly into one of the holes1 where the water was twenty-five feet deep4 ,out of curiosity1 ,i lay down on the ice and looked through the hole1 until ,i saw the axe a little on one side1 standing on its head1 with its helve erect and gently swaying to and fro with the pulse of the pond2 and there it might have stood erect and swaying till in the course of time the handle rotted off1 if ,i had not disturbed it4 ,making another hole directly over it with an ice chisel which ,i had1 and cutting down the longest birch which ,i could find in the neighborhood with my knife1 ,i made a slip-noose1 which ,i attached to its end1 and1 letting it down carefully1 passed it over the knob of the handle1 and drew it by a line along the birch1 and so pulled the axe out again4 ,the shore is composed of a belt of smooth rounded white stones like paving stones1 excepting one or two short sand beaches1 and is so steep that in many places a single leap will carry you into water over your head2 and were it not for its remarkable transparency1 that would be the last to be seen of its bottom till it rose on the opposite side4 ,some think it is bottomless4 ,it is nowhere muddy1 and a casual observer would say that there were no weeds at all in it2 and of noticeable plants1 except in the little meadows recently overflowed1 which do not properly belong to it1 a closer scrutiny does not detect a flag nor a bulrush1 nor even a lily1 yellow or white1 but only a few small heart-leaves and potamogetons1 and perhaps a water-target or two2 all which however a bather might not perceive2 and these plants are clean and bright like the element they grow in4 ,the stones extend a rod or two into the water1 and then the bottom is pure sand1 except in the deepest parts1 where there is usually a little sediment1 probably from the decay of the leaves1 which have been wafted on to it so many successive falls1 and a bright green weed is brought up on anchors even in midwinter4 ,we have one other pond just like this1 ,white ,pond in ,nine ,acre ,corner1 about two and a half miles westerly2 but1 though ,i am acquainted with most of the ponds within a dozen miles of this center1 ,i do not know a third of this pure and well-like character4 ,successive nations perchance have drunk at1 admired1 and fathomed it1 and passed away1 and still its water is green and pellucid as ever4 ,not an intermitting spring6 ,perhaps on that spring morning when ,adam and ,eve were driven out of ,eden1 ,walden ,pond was already in existence1 and even then breaking up in a gentle spring rain accompanied with mist and a southerly wind1 and covered with myriads of ducks and geese1 which had not heard of the fall1 when still such pure lakes sufficed them4 ,even then it had commenced to rise and fall1 and had clarified its waters and colored them of the hue they now wear1 and obtained a patent of heaven to be the only ,walden ,pond in the world and distiller of celestial dews4 ,who knows in how may unremembered nations' literatures this has been the ,castalian ,fountain8#ff or what nymphs presided over it in the ,golden ,age8 ,it is a gem of the first water which ,concord wears in her coronet4 ,yet perchance the first who came to this well have left some trace of their footsteps4 ,i have been surprised to detect encircling the pond1 even where a thickwood has just been cut down on the shore1 a narrow shelf-like path in the steep hillside1 alternately rising and falling1 approaching and receding from the water's edge1 as old probably as the race of man here1 worn by the feet of aboriginal hunters1 and still from time to time unwittingly trodden by the present occupants of the land4 ,this is particularly distinct to one standing on the middle of the pond in winter1 just after a light snow has fallen1 appearing as a clear undulating white line1 unobscured by weeds and twigs1 and very obvious a quarter of a mile off in many places where in summer it is hardly distinguishable close at hand4 ,the snow reprints it1 as it were1 in clear white type alto-relievo4 ,the ornamented grounds of villas which will one day be built here may still preserve some trace of this4 ,the pond rises and falls1 but whether regularly or not1 and within what period1 nobody knows1 though1 as usual1 many pretend to know4 ,it is commonly higher in the winter and lower in the summer1 though not corresponding to the general wet and dryness4 ,i can remember when it was a foot or two lower1 and also when it was at least five feet higher1 than when ,i lived by it4 ,there is a narrow sand-bar running into it1 very deep water on one side1 on which ,i helped boil a kettle of chowder1 some six rods from the main shore1 about the year #ahbd1 which it has not been possible to do for twenty-five years2 and on the other hand1 my friends used to listen with incredulity when ,i told them that a few years later ,i was accustomed to fish from a boat in a secluded cove in the woods1 fifteen rods from the only shore they knew1 which place was long since converted into a meadow4 ,but the pond has risen steadily for two years1 and now1 in the summer of '#eb1 is just five feet higher than when ,i lived there1 or as high as it was thirty years ago1 and fishing goes on again in the meadow4 ,this makes a difference of level1 at the outside1 of six or seven feet2 and yet the water shed by the surrounding hills is insignificant in amount1 and this overflow must be referred to causes which affect the deep springs4 ,this same summer the pond has begun to fall again4 ,it is remarkable that this fluctuation1 whether periodical or not1 appears thus to require many years for its accomplishment4 ,i have observed one rise and a part of two falls1 and ,i expect that a dozen or fifteen years hence the water will again be as low as ,i have ever known it4 ,flint's ,pond1 a mile eastward1 allowing for the disturbance occasioned by its inlets and outlets1 and the smaller intermediate ponds also1 sympathize with ,walden1 and recently attained their greatest height at the same time with the latter4 ,the same is true1 as far as my observation goes1 of ,white ,pond4 ,this rise and fall of ,walden at long intervals serves this use at least3 the water standing at this great height for a year or more1 though it makes it difficult to walk round it1 kills the shrubs and trees which have sprung up about its edge since the last rise1 pitch-pines1 birches1 alders1 aspens1 and others1 and1 falling again1 leaves an unobstructed shore2 for1 unlike many ponds1 and all waters which are subject to a daily tide1 its shore is cleanest when the water is lowest4 ,on the side of the pond next my house1 a row of pitch-pines fifteen feet high has been killed and tipped over as if by a lever1 and thus a stop put to their encroachments2 and their size indicates how many years have elapsed since the last rise to this height4 ,by this fluctuation the pond asserts its title to a shore1 and thus the shore is shorn1 and the trees cannot hold it by right of possession4 ,these are the lips of the lake on which no beard grows4 ,it licks its chaps from time to time4 ,when the water is at its height1 the alders1 willows1 and maples send forth a mass of fibrous red roots several feet long from all sides of their stems in the water1 and to the height of three or four feet from the ground1 in the effort to maintain themselves2 and ,i have known the high blueberry bushes about the shore1 which commonly produce no fruit1 bear an abundant crop under these circumstances4 ,some have been puzzled to tell how the shore became so regularly paved4 ,my townsmen have all heard the tradition--the oldest people tell me that they heard it in their youth--that anciently the ,indians were holding a pow-wow upon a hill here1 which rose as high into the heavens as the pond now sinks deep into the earth1 and they used much profanity1 as the story goes1 though this vice is one of which the ,indians were never guilty1 and while they were thus engaged the hill shook and suddenly sank1 and only one old squaw1 named ,walden1 escaped1 and from her the pond was named4 ,it has been conjectured that when the hill shook1 these stones rolled down its side and became the present shore4 ,it is very certain1 at any rate1 that once there was no pond here1 and now there is one2 and this ,indian fable does not in any respect conflict with the account of that ancient settler whom ,i have mentioned1 who remembers so well when he first came here with his divining-rod1 saw a thin vapor rising from the sward1 and the hazel pointed steadily downward1 and he concluded to dig a well here4 ,as for the stones1 many still think that they are hardly to be accounted for by the action of the waves on these hills2 but ,i observe that the surrounding hills are remarkably full of the same kind of stones1 so that they have been obliged to pile them up in walls on both sides of the railroad cut nearest the pond2 and1 moreover1 there are most stones where the shore is most abrupt2 so that1 unfortunately1 it is no longer a mystery to me4 ,i detect the paver4 ,if the name was not derived from that of some ,english locality--,saffron ,walden1 for instance--one might suppose that is was called1 originally1 ,walled-in ,pond4 ,the pond was my well ready dug4 ,for four months in the year its water is as cold as it is pure at all times2 and ,i think that it is then as good as any1 if not the best1 in the town4 ,in the winter1 all water which is exposed to the air is colder than springs and wells which are protected from it4 ,the temperature of the pond water which had stood in the room where ,i sat from five o'clock in the afternoon till noon the next day1 the sixth of ,march1 #ahdf1 the thermometer having been up to #fe or #gj some of the time1 owing partly to the sun on the roof1 was #db1 or one degree colder than the water of one of the coldest wells in the village just drawn4 ,the temperature of the ,boiling ,spring the same day was #de1 or the warmest of any water tried1 though it is the coldest that ,i know of in summer1 when1 besides1 shallow and stagnant surface water is not mingled with it4 ,moreover1 in summer1 ,walden never becomes so warm as most water which is exposed to the sun1 on account of its depth4 ,in the warmest weather ,i usually placed a pailful in my cellar1 where it became cool in the night1 and remained so during the day2 though ,i also resorted to a spring in the neighborhood4 ,it was as good when a a week old as the day it was dipped1 and had no taste of the pump4 ,whoever camps for a week in summer by the shore of a pond1 needs only bury a pail of water a few feet deep in the shade of his camp to be independent of the luxury of ice4 ,there have been caught in ,walden1 pickerel1 one weighing seven pounds1 to say nothing of another which carried off a reel with great velocity1 which the fisherman safely set down at eight pounds because he did not see him1 perch and pouts1 some of each weighing over two pounds1 shiners1 chivins or roach 7,leucisus pulchellus71 a very few breams1 and a couple of eels1 one weighing four pounds--,i am thus particular because the weight of a fish is commonly its only title to fame1 and these are the only eels ,i have heard of here2 also1 ,i have a faint recollection of a little fish some five inches long1 with silvery sides and a greenish back1 somewhat dace-like in its character1 which ,i mention here chiefly to link my facts to fable4 ,nevertheless1 this pond is not very fertile in fish4 ,its pickerel1 though not abundant1 are its chief boast4 ,i have seen at one time lying on the ice pickerel of at least three different kinds3 a long and shallow one1 steel-colored1 most like those caught in the river2 a bright golden kind1 with greenish reflections and remarkably deep1 which is the most common here2 and another1 golden-colored1 and shaped like the last1 but peppered on the sides with small dark brown or black spots1 intermixed with a few faint blood-red ones very much like a trout4 ,the specific name reticulatus#fg would not apply to this2 it should be guttatus#fh rather4 ,these are all very firm fish1 and weigh more than their size promises4 ,the shiners1 pouts1 and perch1 also1 and indeed all the fishes which inhabit this pond1 are much cleaner1 handsomer1 and firmer fleshed than those in the river and most other ponds1 as the water is purer1 and they can easily be distinguished from them4 ,probably many ichthyologists would make new varieties of some of them4 ,there are also a clean race of frogs and tortoises1 and a few mussels in it2 muskrats and minks leave their traces about it1 and occasionally a travelling mud-turtle visits it4 ,sometimes1 when ,i pushed off my boat in the morning1 ,i disturbed a great mud-turtle which had secreted himself under the boat in the night4 ,ducks and geese frequent it in the spring and fall1 the white-bellied swallows 7,hirundo bicolor7 skim over it1 and the peetweets 7,totanus macularius7 teter along its stony shores all summer4 ,i have sometimes disturbed a fishhawk sitting on a white-pine over the water2 but ,i doubt if it is ever profaned by the wing of a gull1 like ,fair-,haven4 ,at most1 it tolerates one annual loon4 ,these are all the animals of consequence which frequent it now4 ,you may see from a boat1 in calm weather1 near the sandy eastern shore1 where the water is eight or ten feet deep1 and also in some other parts of the pond1 some circular heaps half a dozen feet in diameter by a foot in height1 consisting of small stones less than a hen's egg in size1 where all around is bare sand4 ,at first you wonder if the ,indians could have formed them on the ice for any purpose1 and so1 when the ice melted1 they sank to the bottom2 but they are too regular and some of them plainly too fresh for that4 ,they are similar to those found in rivers2 but as there are no suckers or lampreys here1 ,i know not by what fish they could be made4 ,perhaps they are the nests of the chivin4 ,these lend a pleasing mystery to the bottom4 ,the shore is irregular enough not to be monotonous4 ,i have in my mind's eye the western indented with deep bays1 the bolder northern1 and the beautifully scalloped southern shore1 where successive capes overlap each other and suggest unexplored coves between4 ,the forest has never so good a setting1 nor is so distinctly beautiful1 as when seen from the middle of a small lake amid hills which rise from the water's edge2 for the water in which it is reflected not only makes the best foreground in such a case1 but1 with its winding shore1 the most natural and agreeable boundary to it4 ,there is no rawness nor imperfection in its edge there1 as where the axe has cleared a part1 or a cultivated field abuts on it4 ,the trees have ample room to expand on the water side1 and each sends forth its most vigorous branch in that direction4 ,there ,nature has woven a natural selvage1 and the eye rises by just gradations from the low shrubs of the shore to the highest trees4 ,there are few traces of man's hand to be seen4 ,the water laves the shore as it did a thousand years ago4 ,a lake is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature4 ,it is earth's eye2 looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature4 ,the fluviatile trees next the shore are the slender eyelashes which fringe it1 and the wooded hills and cliffs around are its overhanging brows4 ,standing on the smooth sandy beach at the east end of the pond1 in a calm ,september afternoon1 when a slight haze makes the opposite shore line indistinct1 ,i have seen whence came the expression1 the glassy surface of a lake4 ,when you invert your head1 it looks like a thread of finest gossamer stretched across the valley1 and gleaming against the distant pine woods1 separating one stratum of the atmosphere from another4 ,you would think that you could walk dry under it to the opposite hills1 and that the swallows which skim over might perch on it4 ,indeed1 they sometimes dive below the line1 as it were by mistake1 and are undeceived4 ,as you look over the pond westward you are obliged to employ both your hands to defend your eyes against the reflected as well as the true sun1 for they are equally bright2 and if1 between the two1 you survey its surface critically1 it is literally as smooth as glass1 except where the skater insects1 at equal intervals scattered over its whole extent1 by their motions in the sun produce the finest imaginable sparkle on it1 or1 perchance1 a duck plumes itself1 or1 as ,i have said1 a swallow skims so low as to touch it4 ,it may be that in the distance a fish describes an arc of three or four feet in the air1 and there is one bright flash where it emerges1 and another where it strikes the water2 sometimes the whole silvery arc is revealed2 or here and there1 perhaps1 is a thistle-down floating on its surface1 which the fishes dart at and so dimple it again4 ,it is like molten glass cooled but not congealed1 and the few motes in it are pure and beautiful like the imperfections in glass4 ,you may often detect a yet smoother and darker water1 separated from the rest as if by an invisible cobweb1 boom of the water nymphs1 resting on it4 ,from a hilltop you can see a fish leap in almost any part2 for not a pickerel or shiner picks an insect from this smooth surface but it manifestly disturbs the equilibrium of the whole lake4 ,it is wonderful with what elaborateness this simple fact is advertised--this piscine murder will out--and from my distant perch ,i distinguish the circling undulations when they are half a dozen rods in diameter4 ,you can even detect a water-bug 7,gyrinus7 ceaselessly progressing over the smooth surface a quarter of a mile off2 for they furrow the water slightly1 making a conspicuous ripple bounded by two diverging lines1 but the skaters glide over it without rippling it perceptibly4 ,when the surface is considerably agitated there are no skaters nor water-bugs on it1 but apparently1 in calm days1 they leave their havens and adventurously glide forth from the shore by short impulses till they completely cover it4 ,it is a soothing employment1 on one of those fine days in the fall when all the warmth of the sun is fully appreciated1 to sit on a stump on such a height as this1 overlooking the pond1 and study the dimpling circles which are incessantly inscribed on its otherwise invisible surface amid the reflected skies and trees4 ,over this great expanse there is no disturbance but it is thus at once gently smoothed away and assuaged1 as1 when a vase of water is jarred1 the trembling circles seek the shore and all is smooth again4 ,not a fish can leap or an insect fall on the pond but it is thus reported in circling dimples1 in lines of beauty1 as it were the constant welling up of its fountain1 the gentle pulsing of its life1 the heaving of its breast4 ,the thrills of joy and thrills of pain are undistinguishable4 ,how peaceful the phenomena of the lake6 ,again the works of man shine as in the spring4 ,ay1 every leaf and twig and stone and cobweb sparkles now at mid-afternoon as when covered with dew in a spring morning4 ,every motion of an oar or an insect produces a flash of light2 and if an oar falls1 how sweet the echo6 ,in such a day in ,september or ,october1 ,walden is a perfect forest mirror1 set round with stones as precious to my eye as if fewer or rarer4 ,nothing so fair1 so pure1 and at the same time so large1 as a lake1 perchance1 lies on the surface of the earth4 ,sky water4 ,it needs no fence4 ,nations come and go without defiling it4 ,it is a mirror which no stone can crack1 whose quicksilver will never wear off1 whose gilding ,nature continually repairs2 no storms1 no dust1 can dim its surface ever fresh--a mirror in which all impurity presented to it sinks1 swept and dusted by the sun's hazy brush--this the light dust-cloth--which retains no breath that is breathed on it1 but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface1 and be reflected in its bosom still4 ,a field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air4 ,it is continually receiving new life and motion from above4 ,it is intermediate in its nature between land and sky4 ,on land only the grass and trees wave1 but the water itself is rippled by the wind4 ,i see where the breeze dashes across it by the streaks or flakes of light4 ,it is remarkable that we can look down on its surface4 ,we shall1 perhaps1 look down thus on the surface of air at length1 and mark where a still subtler spirit sweeps over it4 ,the skaters and water-bugs finally disappear in the latter part of ,october1 when the severe frosts have come2 and then and in ,november1 usually1 on a calm day1 there is absolutely nothing to ripple the surface4 ,one ,november afternoon1 in the calm at the end of a rain storm of several days' duration1 when the sky was still completely overcast and the air was full of mist1 ,i observed that the pond was remarkably smooth1 so that it was difficult to distinguish its surface2 though it no longer reflected the bright tints of ,october1 but the somber ,november colors of the surrounding hills4 ,though ,i passed over it as gently as possible1 the slight undulations produced by my boat extended almost as far as ,i could see1 and gave a ribbed appearance to the reflections4 ,but1 as ,i was looking over the surface1 ,i saw here and there at a distance a faint glimmer1 as if some skater insects which had escaped the frosts might be collected there1 or1 perchance1 the surface1 being so smooth1 betrayed where a spring welled up from the bottom4 ,paddling gently to one of these places1 ,i was surprised to find myself surrounded by myriads of small perch1 about five inches long1 of a rich bronze color in the green water1 sporting there and constantly rising to the surface and dimpling it1 sometimes leaving bubbles on it4 ,in such transparent and seemingly bottomless water1 reflecting the clouds1 ,i seemed to be floating through the air as in a balloon1 and their swimming impressed me as a kind of flight or hovering1 as if they were a compact flock of birds passing just beneath my level on the right or left1 their fins1 like sails1 set all around them4 ,there were many such schools in the pond1 apparently improving the short season before winter would draw an icy shutter over their broad skylight1 sometimes giving to the surface an appearance as if a slight breeze struck it1 or a few rain-drops fell there4 ,when ,i approached carelessly and alarmed them1 they made a sudden plash and rippling with their tails1 as if one had struck the water with a brushy bough1 and instantly took refuge in the depths4 ,at length the wind rose1 the mist increased1 and the waves began to run1 and the perch leaped much higher than before1 half out of water1 a hundred black points1 three inches long1 at once above the surface4 ,even as late as the fifth of ,december1 one year1 ,i saw some dimples on the surface1 and thinking it was going to rain hard immediately1 the air being full of mist1 ,i made haste to take my place at the oars and row homeward2 already the rain seemed rapidly increasing1 though ,i felt none on my cheek1 and ,i anticipated a thorough soaking4 ,but suddenly the dimples ceased1 for they were produced by the perch1 which the noise of my oars had scared into the depths1 and ,i saw their schools dimly disappearing2 so ,i spent a dry afternoon after all4 ,an old man who used to frequent this pond nearly sixty years ago1 when it was dark with surrounding forests1 tells me that in those days he sometimes saw it all alive with ducks and other water fowl1 and that there were many eagles about it4 ,he came here a-fishing1 and used an old log canoe which he found on the shore4 ,it was made of two white-pine logs dug out and pinned together1 and was cut off square at the ends4 ,it was very clumsy1 but lasted a great many years before it became water-logged and perhaps sank to the bottom4 ,he did not know whose it was2 it belonged to the pond4 ,he used to make a cable for his anchor of strips of hickory bark tied together4 ,an old man1 a potter1 who lived by the pond before the ,revolution1 told him once that there was an iron chest at the bottom1 and that he had seen it4 ,sometimes it would come floating up to the shore2 but when you went toward it1 it would go back into deep water and disappear4 ,i was pleased to hear of the old log canoe1 which took the place of an ,indian one of the same material but more graceful construction1 which perchance had first been a tree on the bank1 and then1 as it were1 fell into the water1 to float there for a generation1 the most proper vessel for the lake4 ,i remember that when ,i first looked into these depths there were many large trunks to be seen indistinctly lying on the bottom1 which had either been blown over formerly1 or left on the ice at the last cutting1 when wood was cheaper2 but now they have mostly disappeared4 ,when ,i first paddled a boat on ,walden1 it was completely surrounded by thick and lofty pine and oak woods1 and in some of its coves grape vines had run over the trees next the water and formed bowers under which a boat could pass4 ,the hills which form its shores are so steep1 and the woods on them were then so high1 that1 as you looked down from the west end1 it had the appearance of an amphitheatre for some kind of sylvan spectacle4 ,i have spent many an hour1 when ,i was younger1 floating over its surface as the zephyr willed1 having paddled my boat to the middle1 and lying on my back across the seats1 in a summer forenoon1 dreaming awake1 until ,i was aroused by the boat touching the sand1 and ,i arose to see what shore my fates had impelled me to2 days when idleness was the most attractive and productive industry4 ,many a forenoon have ,i stolen away1 preferring to spend thus the most valued part of the day2 for ,i was rich1 if not in money1 in sunny hours and summer days1 and spent them lavishly2 nor do ,i regret that ,i did not waste more of them in the workshop or at the teacher's desk4 ,but since ,i left those shores the wood-choppers have still further laid them waste1 and now for many a year there will be no more rambling through the aisles of the wood1 with occasional vistas through which you see the water4 ,my ,muse may be excused if she is silent henceforth4 ,how can you expect the birds to sing when their groves are cut down8 ,now the trunks of trees on the bottom1 and the old log canoe1 and the dark surrounding woods1 are gone1 and the villagers1 who scarcely know where it lies1 instead of going to the pond to bathe or drink1 are thinking to bring its water1 which should be as sacred as the ,ganges at least1 to the village in a pipe1 to wash their dishes with6--to earn their ,walden by the turning of a cock or drawing of a plug6 ,that devilish ,iron ,horse1 whose ear-rending neigh is heard throughout the town1 has muddied the ,boiling ,spring with his foot1 and he it is that has browsed off all the woods on ,walden shore2 that ,trojan horse1 with a thousand men in his belly1 introduced by mercenary ,greeks6 ,where is the country's champion1 the ,moore of ,moore ,hall1#fi to meet him at the ,deep ,cut and thrust an avenging lance between the ribs of the bloated pest8 ,nevertheless1 of all the characters ,i have known1 perhaps ,walden wears best1 and best preserves its purity4 ,many men have been likened to it1 but few deserve that honor4 ,though the wood-choppers have laid bare first this shore and then that1 and the ,irish have built their sties by it1 and the railroad has infringed on its border1 and the ice-men have skimmed it once1 it is itself unchanged1 the same water which my youthful eyes fell on2 all the change is in me4 ,it has not acquired one permanent wrinkle after all its ripples4 ,it is perennially young1 and ,i may stand and see a swallow dip apparently to pick an insect from its surface as of yore4 ,it struck me again to-night1 as if ,i had not seen it almost daily for more than twenty years--,why1 here is ,walden1 the same woodland lake that ,i discovered so many years ago2 where a forest was cut down last winter another is springing up by its shore as lustily as ever2 the same thought is welling up to its surface that was then2 it is the same liquid joy and happiness to itself and its ,maker1 ay1 and it may be to me4 ,it is the work of a brave man1 surely1 in whom there was no guile6 ,he rounded this water with his hand1 deepened and clarified it in his thought1 and in his will bequeathed it to ,concord4 ,i see by its face that it is visited by the same reflection2 and ,i can almost say1 ,walden1 is it you8 ,it is no dream of mine1 ,to ornament a line2 ,i cannot come nearer to ,god and ,heaven ,than ,i live to ,walden even4 ,i am its stony shore1 ,and the breeze that passes o'er2 ,in the hollow of my hand ,are its water and its sand1 ,and its deepest resort ,lies high in my thought4 ,the cars never pause to look at it2 yet ,i fancy that the engineers and firemen and brakemen1 and those passengers who have a season ticket and see it often1 are better men for the sight4 ,the engineer does not forget at night1 or his nature does not1 that he has beheld this vision of serenity and purity once at least during the day4 ,though seen but once1 it helps to wash out ,state-street and the engine's soot4 ,one proposes that it be called ,god's ,drop4 ,i have said that ,walden has no visible inlet or outlet1 but it is on the one hand distantly and indirectly related to ,flint's ,pond1 which is more elevated1 by a chain of small ponds coming from that quarter1 and on the other directly and manifestly to ,concord ,river1 which is lower1 by a similar chain of ponds through which in some other geological period it may have flowed2 and by a little digging1 which ,god forbid1 it can be made to flow thither again4 ,if by living thus reserved and austere1 like a hermit in the woods1 so long1 it has acquired such wonderful purity1 who would not regret that the comparatively impure waters of ,flint's ,pond should be mingled with it1 or itself should ever go to waste its sweetness in the ocean wave8 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #fe3 ,from ,chapter ,,ix of ,walden1 #ahed4 ,footnote #ff3 ,the ,castalian ,fountain on ,mount ,parnassus was sacred to ,apollo and the ,muses4 ,footnote #fg3 ,with net-like markings4 ,footnote #fh3 ,speckled4 ,footnote #fi3 ,the hero of an old ballad4 ,,selections ,,from ,,ruskin ,a4 ,,leafage ,,of ,,trees#gj ,one of the most remarkable characters of natural leafage is the constancy with which1 while the leaves are arranged on the spray with exquisite regularity1 that regularity is modified in their actual effect4 ,for as in every group of leaves some are seen sideways1 forming merely long lines1 some foreshortened1 some crossing each other1 every one differently turned and placed from all the others1 the forms of the leaves1 though in themselves similar1 give rise to a thousand strange and differing forms in the group2 and the shadows of some1 passing over the others1 still farther disguise and confuse the mass until the eye can distinguish nothing but a graceful and flexible disorder of innumerable forms1 with here and there a perfect leaf on the extremity1 or a symmetrical association of one or two1 just enough to mark the specific character and to give unity and grace1 but never enough to repeat in one group what was done in another1 never enough to prevent the eye from feeling that1 however regular and mathematical may be the structure of parts1 what is composed out of them is as various and infinite as any other part of nature4 ,nor does this take place in general effect only4 ,break off an elm bough three feet long1 in full leaf1 and lay it on the table before you1 and try to draw it1 leaf for leaf4 ,it is ten to one if in the whole bough 7provided you do not twist it about as you work7 you find one form of leaf exactly like another2 perhaps you will not even have one complete4 ,every leaf will be oblique1 or foreshortened1 or curled1 or crossed by another1 or shaded by another1 or have something or other the matter with it2 and though the whole bough will look graceful1 and symmetrical1 you will scarcely be able to tell how or why it does so1 since there is not one line of it like another4444 ,but if ,nature is so various when you have a bough on the table before you1 what must she be when she retires from you1 and gives you her whole mass and multitude8 ,the leaves then at the extremities become as fine as dust1 a mere confusion of points and lines between you and the sky1 a confusion which you might as well hope to draw sea-sand particle by particle1 as to imitate leaf for leaf4 ,this1 as it comes down into the body of the tree1 gets closer1 but never opaque2 it is always transparent1 with crumbling lights in it letting you through to the sky2 then1 out of this1 come1 heavier and heavier1 the masses of illumined foliage1 all dazzling and inextricable1 save here and there a single leaf on the extremities2 then1 under these1 you get deep passages of broken irregular gloom1 passing into transparent1 green-lighted1 misty hollows2 the twisted stems glancing through them in their pale and entangled infinity1 and the shafted sunbeams1 rained from above1 running along the lustrous leaves for an instant2 then lost1 then caught again on some emerald bank or knotted root1 to be sent up again with a faint reflex on the white under-sides of dim groups of drooping foliage1 the shadows of the upper boughs running in grey network down the glossy stems1 and resting in quiet chequers upon the glittering earth2 but all penetrable and transparent1 and1 in proportion1 inextricable and incomprehensible1 except where across the labyrinth and the mystery of the dazzling light and dream-like shadow1 falls1 close to us1 some solitary spray1 some wreath of two or three motionless1 large leaves1 the type and embodying of all that in the rest we feel and imagine1 but can never see4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #gj3 ,from ,modern ,painters1 ,vol4 ,i1 #ahdc1 ,pt4 ,,ii1 ,sec4 ,,vi ,chapter ,i4 ,b4 ,,water#ga ,of all inorganic substances1 acting in their own proper nature1 and without assistance or combination1 water is the most wonderful4 ,if we think of it as the source of all the changefulness and beauty which we have seen in clouds2 then as the instrument by which the earth we have contemplated was modelled into symmetry1 and its crags chiselled into grace2 then as1 in the form of snow1 it robes the mountains it has made1 with that transcendent light which we could not have conceived if we had not seen2 then as it exists in the foam of the torrent1 in the iris which spans it1 in the morning mist which rises from it1 in the deep crystalline pools which mirror its hanging shore1 in the broad lake and glancing river2 finally1 in that which is to all human minds the best emblem of unwearied1 unconquerable power1 the wild1 various1 fantastic1 tameless unity of the sea2 what shall we compare to this mighty1 this universal element1 for glory and for beauty8 or how shall we follow its eternal changefulness of feeling8 ,it is like trying to paint a soul4 ,to suggest the ordinary appearance of calm water1 to lay on canvas as much evidence of surface and reflection as may make us understand that water is meant1 is1 perhaps1 the easiest task of art2 and even ordinary running or falling water may be sufficiently rendered1 by observing careful curves of projection with a dark ground1 and breaking a little white over it1 as we see done with judgment and truth by ,ruysdael4 ,but to paint the actual play of hue on the reflective surface1 or to give the forms and fury of water when it begins to show itself2 to give the flashing and rocket-like velocity of a noble cataract1 or the precision and grace of the sea wave1 so exquisitely modelled1 though so mockingly transient1 so mountainous in its form1 yet so cloudlike in its motion1 with its variety and delicacy of colour1 when every ripple and wreath has some peculiar passage of reflection upon itself alone1 and the radiating and scintillating sunbeams are mixed with the dim hues of transparent depth and dark rock below--to do this perfectly is beyond the power of man2 to do it even partially has been granted to but one or two1 even of those few who have dared to attempt it4444 ,the fact is that there is hardly a road-side pond or pool which has not as much landscape in it as above it4 ,it is not the brown1 muddy1 dull thing we suppose it to be2 it has a heart like ourselves1 and in the bottom of that there are the boughs of the tall trees1 and the blades of the shaking grass1 and all manner of hues of variable pleasant light out of the sky4 ,nay1 the ugly gutter1 that stagnates over the drain-bars in the heart of the foul city1 is not altogether base2 down in that1 if you will look deep enough1 you may see the dark serious blue of far-off sky1 and the passing of pure clouds4 ,it is at your own will that you see in that despised stream either the refuse of the street1 or the image of the sky4 ,so it is with almost all other things that we unkindly despise4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #ga3 ,from ,modern ,painters1 ,vol4 ,i1 ,pt4 ,,ii1 ,sec4 ,v1 ,chapter ,i4 ,c4 ,,the ,,mountain ,,glory#gb ,the best image which the world can give of ,paradise is in the slope of the meadows1 orchards1 and corn-fields on the sides of a great ,alp1 with its purple rocks and eternal snows above2 this excellence not being in any wise a matter referable to feeling1 or individual preferences1 but demonstrable by calm enumeration of the number of lovely colours on the rocks1 the varied grouping of the trees1 and quantity of noble incidents in stream1 crag1 or cloud1 presented to the eye at any given moment4 ,for consider1 first1 the difference produced in the whole tone of landscape colour by the introductions of purple1 violet1 and deep ultramarine blue1 which we owe to mountains4 ,in an ordinary lowland landscape we have the blue of the sky2 the green of grass1 which ,i will suppose 7and this is an unnecessary concession to the lowlands7 entirely fresh and bright2 the green of trees2 and certain elements of purple1 far more rich and beautiful than we generally should think1 in their bark and shadows 7bare hedges and thickets1 or tops of trees1 in subdued afternoon sunshine1 are nearly perfect purple1 and of an exquisite tone71 as well as in ploughed fields1 and dark ground in general4 ,but among mountains1 in addition to all this1 large unbroken spaces of pure violet and purple are introduced in their distances2 and even near1 by films of cloud passing over the darkness of ravines or forests1 blues are produced of the most subtle tenderness2 these azures and purples passing into rose-colour of otherwise wholly unattainable delicacy among the upper summits1 the blue of the sky being at the same time purer and deeper than in the plains4 ,nay1 in some sense1 a person who has never seen the rose-colour of the rays of dawn crossing a blue mountain twelve or fifteen miles away1 can hardly be said to know what tenderness in colour means at all2 bright tenderness he may1 indeed1 see in the sky or in a flower1 but this grave tenderness of the faraway hill-purples he cannot conceive4 ,together with this great source of pre-eminence in mass of colour1 we have to estimate the influence of the finished inlaying and enamel-work of the colour-jewellery on every stone2 and that of the continual variety in species of flower2 most of the mountain flowers being1 besides1 separately lovelier than the lowland ones4 ,the wood hyacinth and the wild rose are1 indeed1 the only supreme flowers that the lowlands can generally show2 and the wild rose is also a mountaineer1 and more fragrant in the hills1 while the wood hyacinth1 at its best1 cannot match even the dark bell-gentian1 leaving the light-blue star-gentian in its uncontested queenliness1 and the ,alpine rose and ,highland heather wholly without similitude4 ,the violet1 lily of the valley1 crocus1 and wood anemone are1 ,i suppose1 claimable partly by the plains as well as the hills2 but the large orange lily and narcissus ,i have never seen but on hill pastures1 and the exquisite oxalis is pre-eminently a mountaineer4 ,to this supremacy in mosses and flowers we have next to add an inestimable gain in the continual presence and power of water4 ,neither in its clearness1 its colour1 its fantasy of motion1 its calmness of space1 depth1 and reflection1 or its wrath1 can water be conceived by a lowlander1 out of sight of sea4 ,a sea wave is far grander than any torrent--but of the sea and its influences we are not now speaking2 and the sea itself1 though it can be clear1 is never calm1 among our shores1 in the sense that a mountain lake can be calm4 ,the sea seems only to pause2 the mountain lake to sleep1 and to dream4 ,out of sight of the ocean a lowlander cannot be considered ever to have seen water at all4 ,the mantling of the pools in the rock shadows1 with the golden flakes of light sinking down through them like falling leaves1 the ringing of the thin currents among the shallows1 the flash and the cloud of the cascade1 the earthquake and foam-fire of the cataract1 the long lines of alternate mirror and mist that lull the imagery of the hills reversed in the blue of morning1--all these things belong to those hills as their undivided inheritance4 ,to this supremacy in wave and stream is joined a no less manifest pre-eminence in the character of trees4 ,it is possible among plains1 in the species of trees which properly belong to them1 the poplars of ,amiens1 for instance1 to obtain a serene simplicity of grace1 which1 as ,i said1 is a better help to the study of gracefulness1 as such1 than any of the wilder groupings of the hills2 so1 also1 there are certain conditions of symmetrical luxuriance developed in the park and avenue1 rarely rivalled in their way among mountains2 and yet the mountain superiority in foliage is1 on the whole1 nearly as complete as it is in water3 for exactly as there are some expressions in the broad reaches of a navigable lowland river1 such as the ,loire or ,thames1 not1 in their way1 to be matched among the rock rivers1 and yet for all that a lowlander cannot be said to have truly seen the element of water at all2 so even in the richest parks and avenues he cannot be said to have truly seen trees4 ,for the resources of trees are not developed until they have difficulty to contend with2 neither their tenderness of brotherly love and harmony1 till they are forced to choose their ways of various life where there is contracted room for them1 talking to each other with their restrained branches4 ,the various action of trees rooting themselves in inhospitable rocks1 stooping to look into ravines1 hiding from the search of glacier winds1 reaching forth to the rays of rare sunshine1 crowding down together to drink at sweetest streams1 climbing hand in hand among the difficult slopes1 opening in sudden dances round the mossy knolls1 gathering into companies at rest among the fragrant fields1 gliding in grave procession over the heavenward ridges--nothing of this can be conceived among the unvexed and unvaried felicities of the lowland forest3 while to all these direct sources of greater beauty are added1 first the power of redundance1--the mere quantity of foliage visible in the folds and on the promontories of a single ,alp being greater than that of an entire lowland landscape 7unless a view from some cathedral tower72 and to this charm of redundance1 that of clearer visibility1--tree after tree being constantly shown in successive height1 one behind another1 instead of the mere tops and flanks of masses1 as in the plains2 and the forms of multitudes of them continually defined against the clear sky1 near and above1 or against white clouds entangled among their branches1 instead of being confused in dimness of distance4 ,finally1 to this supremacy in foliage we have to add the still less questionable supremacy in clouds4 ,there is no effect of sky possible in the lowlands which may not in equal perfection be seen among the hills2 but there are effects by tens of thousands1 for ever invisible and inconceivable to the inhabitant of the plains1 manifested among the hills in the course of one day4 ,the mere power of familiarity with the clouds1 of walking with them and above them1 alters and renders clear our whole conception of the baseless architecture of the sky2 and for the beauty of it1 there is more in a single wreath of early cloud1 pacing its way up an avenue of pines1 or pausing among the points of their fringes1 than in all the white heaps that fill the arched sky of the plains from one horizon to the other4 ,and of the nobler cloud manifestations1--the breaking of their troublous seas against the crags1 their black spray sparkling with lightning2 or the going forth of the morning along their pavements of moving marble1 level-laid between dome and dome of snow2--of these things there can be as little imagination or understanding in an inhabitant of the plains as of the scenery of another planet than his own4 ,and1 observe1 all these superiorities are matters plainly measurable and calculable1 not in any wise to be referred to estimate of sensation4 ,of the grandeur or expression of the hills ,i have not spoken2 how far they are great1 or strong1 or terrible1 ,i do not for the moment consider1 because vastness1 and strength1 and terror1 are not to all minds subjects of desired contemplation4 ,it may make no difference to some men whether a natural object be large or small1 whether it be strong or feeble4 ,but loveliness of colour1 perfectness of form1 endlessness of change1 wonderfulness of structure1 are precious to all undiseased human minds2 and the superiority of the mountains in all these things to the lowland is1 ,i repeat1 as measurable as the richness of a painted window matched with a white one1 or the wealth of a museum compared with that of a simply furnished chamber4 ,they seem to have been built for the human race1 as at once their schools and cathedrals2 full of treasures of illuminated manuscript for the scholar1 kindly in simple lessons to the worker1 quiet in pale cloisters for the thinker1 glorious in holiness for the worshipper4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #gb3 ,from ,modern ,painters1 ,vol4 ,,iv1 #ahef1 ,chapter ,,xx4 ,d4 ,,splendours ,,of ,,sunset#gc ,we have been speaking hitherto of what is constant and necessary in nature1 of the ordinary effects of daylight on ordinary colours1 and we repeat again that no gorgeousness of the pallet can reach even these4 ,but it is a widely different thing when ,nature herself takes a colouring fit1 and does something extraordinary1 something really to exhibit her power4 ,she has a thousand ways and means of rising above herself1 but incomparably the noblest manifestations of her capability of colour are in these sunsets among the high clouds4 ,i speak especially of the moment before the sun sinks1 when his light turns pure rose-colour1 and when this light falls upon a zenith covered with countless cloud-forms of inconceivable delicacy1 threads and flakes of vapour1 which would in common daylight be pure snow-white1 and which give1 therefore1 fair field to the tone of light4 ,there is1 then1 no limit to the multitude1 and no check to the intensity1 of the hues assumed4 ,the whole sky from the zenith to the horizon becomes one molten mantling sea of colour and fire2 every black bar turns into massy gold1 every ripple and wave into unsullied shadowless crimson1 and purple1 and scarlet1 and colours for which there are no words in language1 and no ideas in the mind--things which can only be conceived while they are visible2 the intense hollow blue of the upper sky melting through it all1 showing here deep1 and pure1 and lightless2 there1 modulated by the filmy formless body of the transparent vapour1 till it is lost imperceptibly in its crimson and gold4 ,the concurrence of circumstances necessary to produce the sunsets of which ,i speak does not take place above five or six times in a summer1 and then only for a space of from five to ten minutes1 just as the sun reaches the horizon4 ,considering how seldom people think of looking for a sunset at all1 and how seldom1 if they do1 they are in a position from which it can be fully seen1 the chances that their attention should be awake1 and their position favourable1 during these few flying instants of the year1 are almost as nothing4 ,what can the citizen1 who can see only the red light on the canvas of the wagon at the end of the street1 and the crimson colour of the bricks of his neighbour's chimney1 know of the flood of fire which deluges the sky from the horizon to the zenith8 ,what can even the quiet inhabitant of the ,english lowlands1 whose scene for the manifestation of the fire of heaven is limited to the tops of hayricks1 and the rooks' nests in the old elm trees1 know of the mighty passages of splendour which are tossed from ,alp to ,alp over the azure of a thousand miles of champaign8 ,even granting the constant vigour of observation1 and supposing the possession of such impossible knowledge1 it needs but a moment's reflection to prove how incapable the memory is of retaining for any time the distinct image of the sources even of its most vivid impressions4 ,what recollection have we of the sunsets which delighted us last year8 ,we may know that they were magnificent1 or glowing1 but no distinct image of colour or form is retained--nothing of whose degree 7for the great difficulty with the memory is to retain1 not facts1 but degrees of fact7 we could be so certain as to say of anything now presented to us1 that it is like it4 ,if we did say so1 we should be wrong2 for we may be quite certain that the energy of an impression fades from the memory1 and becomes more and more indistinct every day2 and thus we compare a faded and indistinct image with the decision and certainty of one present to the senses4 ,how constantly do we affirm that the thunderstorm of last week was the most terrible one we ever saw in our lives1 because we compare it1 not with the thunderstorm of last year1 but with the faded and feeble recollection of it4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #gc3 ,from ,modern ,painters1 ,vol4 ,i1 ,pt4 ,,ii1 ,sec4 ,,ii1 ,chapter ,,ii4 ,,the ,,stoics#gd ,,william ,,edward ,,hartpole ,,lecky ,the ,stoics asserted two cardinal principles--that virtue was the sole legitimate object to be aspired to1 and that it involved so complete an ascendancy of the reason as altogether to extinguish the affections4 ,the ,peripatetics and many other philosophers1 who derived their opinions chiefly from ,plato1 endeavoured to soften down the exaggeration of these principles4 ,they admitted that virtue was an object wholly distinct from interest1 and that it should be the leading motive of life2 but they maintained that happiness was also a good1 and a certain regard for it legitimate4 ,they admitted that virtue consisted in the supremacy of the reason over the affections1 but they allowed the exercise of the latter within restricted limits4 ,the main distinguishing features1 however1 of stoicism1 the unselfish ideal and the controlling reason1 were acquiesced in1 and each represents an important side of the ancient conception of excellence which we must now proceed to examine4 ,in the first we may easily trace the intellectual expression of the high spirit of self-sacrifice which the patriotic enthusiasm had elicited4 ,the spirit of patriotism has this peculiar characteristic1 that while it has evoked acts of heroism which are both very numerous and very sublime1 it has done so without presenting any prospect of personal immortality as a reward4 ,of all the forms of human heroism1 it is probably the most unselfish4 ,the ,spartan and the ,roman died for his country because he loved it4 ,the martyr's ecstasy of hope had no place in his dying hour4 ,he gave up all he had1 he closed his eyes1 as he believed1 for ever1 and he asked for no reward in this world or in the next4 ,even the hope of posthumous fame--the most refined and supersensual of all that can be called reward--could exist only for the most conspicuous leaders4 ,it was examples of this nature that formed the culminations or ideals of ancient systems of virtue1 and they naturally led men to draw a very clear and deep distinction between the notions of interest and of duty4 ,it may indeed be truly said1 that while the conception of what constituted duty was often very imperfect in antiquity1 the conviction that duty1 as distinguished from every modification of selfishness1 should be the supreme motive of life1 was more clearly enforced among the ,stoics than in any later society4 ,the reader will probably have gathered from the last chapter that there are four distinct motives which moral teachers may propose for the purpose of leading men to virtue4 ,they may argue that the disposition of events is such that prosperity will attend a virtuous life1 and adversity a vicious one--a proposition they may prove by pointing to the normal course of affairs1 and by asserting the existence of a special ,providence in behalf of the good in the present world1 and of rewards and punishments in the future4 ,as far as these latter arguments are concerned1 the efficacy of such teaching rests upon the firmness with which certain theological tenets are held1 while the force of the first considerations will depend upon the degree and manner in which society is organised1 for there are undoubtedly some conditions of society in which a perfectly upright life has not even a general tendency to prosperity4 ,the peculiar circumstances and dispositions of individuals will also influence largely the way in which they receive such teaching1 and1 as ,cicero observed1 what one utility has created1 another will often destroy4 ,they may argue1 again1 that vice is to the mind what disease is to the body1 and that a state of virtue is in consequence a state of health4 ,just as bodily health is desired for its own sake1 as being the absence of a painful or at least displeasing state1 so a well-ordered and virtuous mind may be valued for its own sake1 and independently of all the external good to which it may lead1 as being a condition of happiness2 and a mind distracted by passion and vice may be avoided1 not so much because it is an obstacle in the pursuit of prosperity1 as because it is in itself essentially painful and disturbing4 ,this conception of virtue and vice as states of health or sickness1 the one being in itself a good1 and the other in itself an evil1 was a fundamental proposition in the ethics of ,plato4 ,it was admitted1 but only to a subsidiary place1 by the ,stoics1 and has passed more or less into all the succeeding systems4 ,it is especially favourable to large and elevating conceptions of self-culture1 for it leads men to dwell much less upon isolated acts of virtue or vice than upon the habitual condition of mind from which they spring4 ,it is possible1 in the third place1 to argue in favour of virtue by offering as a motive that sense of pleasure which follows the deliberate performance of a virtuous act4 ,this emotion is a distinct and isolated gratification following a distinct action1 and may therefore be easily separated from that habitual placidity of temper which results from the extinction of vicious and perturbing impulses4 ,it is this theory which is implied in the common exhortations to enjoy the luxury of doing good1 and though especially strong in acts of benevolence1 in which case sympathy with the happiness created intensifies the feeling1 this pleasure attends every kind of virtue4 ,these three motives of action have all this common characteristic1 that they point as their ultimate end to the happiness of the agent4 ,the first seeks that happiness in external circumstances2 the second and third in psychological conditions4 ,there is1 however1 a fourth kind of motive which may be urged1 and which is the peculiar characteristic of the intuitive school of moralists and the stumbling-block of its opponents4 ,it is asserted that we are so constituted that the notion of duty furnishes in itself a natural motive of action of the highest order1 and wholly distinct from all the refinements and modifications of self-interest4 ,the coactive force of this motive is altogether independent of surrounding circumstances1 and of all forms of belief4 ,it is equally true for the man who believes and for the man who rejects the ,christian faith1 for the believer in a future world and for the believer in the mortality of the soul4 ,it is not a question of happiness or unhappiness1 of reward or punishment1 but of a generically different nature4 ,men feel that a certain course of life is the natural end of their being1 and they feel bound1 even at the expense of happiness1 to pursue it4 ,they feel that certain acts are essentially good and noble1 and others essentially base and vile1 and this perception leads them to pursue the one and to avoid the other1 irrespective of all considerations of enjoyment4 ,the school of philosophy we are reviewing furnishes the most perfect of all historical examples of the power which the higher of these motives can exercise over the mind4 ,the coarser forms of self-interest were in stoicism absolutely condemned4 ,it was one of the first principles of these philosophers that all things that are not in our power should be esteemed indifferent2 that the object of all mental discipline should be to withdraw the mind from all the gifts of fortune1 and that prudence must in consequence be altogether excluded from the motives of virtue4 ,to enforce these principles they continually dilated upon the vanity of human things1 and upon the majesty of the independent mind1 and they indulged1 though scarcely more than other sects1 in many exaggerations about the impassive tranquillity of the sage4 ,in the ,roman empire stoicism flourished at a period which1 beyond almost any other1 seemed most unfavourable to such teaching4 ,there were reigns when1 in the emphatic words of ,tacitus1 virtue was a sentence of death4 ,in no period had brute force more completely triumphed1 in none was the thirst for material advantages more intense1 in very few was vice more ostentatiously glorified4 ,yet in the midst of all these circumstances the ,stoics taught a philosophy which was not a compromise1 not an attempt to moderate the popular excesses1 but which in its austere sanctity was the extreme antithesis of all that the prevailing examples and their own interests could dictate4 ,and these men were no impassioned fanatics1 fired with the prospect of coming glory4 ,they were men from whose motives of action the belief in the immortality of the soul was resolutely excluded4 ,in the scepticism that accompanied the first introduction of philosophy into ,rome1 in the dissolution of the old fables about ,tartarus and the ,styx1 and the dissemination of ,epicureanism among the people1 this doctrine1 notwithstanding the beautiful reasonings of ,cicero and the religious faith of a few who clung like ,plutarch to the mysteries in which it was perpetuated1 had sunk very low4 ,an interlocutor in ,cicero expressed what was probably a common feeling1 when he acknowledged that1 with the writings of ,plato before him1 he could believe and realise it2 but when he closed the book1 the reasonings seemed to lose their power1 and the world of spirits grew pale and unreal4 ,if ,ennius could elicit the plaudits of a theatre when he proclaimed that the gods took no part in human affairs1 ,caesar could assert in the senate1 without scandal and almost without dissent1 that death was the end of all things4 ,pliny1 perhaps the greatest of all the ,roman scholars1 adopting the sentiment of all the school of ,epicurus1 describes the belief in a future life as a form of madness1 a puerile and a pernicious illusion4 ,the opinions of the ,stoics were wavering and uncertain4 ,their first doctrine was that the soul of man has a future and independent1 but not an eternal existence1 that it survives until the conflagration that was to destroy the world when all finite things would be absorbed in the all-pervading soul of nature4 ,chrysippus1 however1 restricted to the best and noblest souls this future existence1 which ,cleanthes had awarded to all1 and among the ,roman ,stoics even this was greatly doubted4 ,the belief that the human soul is a detached fragment of the ,deity1 naturally led to the belief that after death it would be reabsorbed in the parent ,spirit4 ,the doctrine that there is no real good but virtue deprived the ,stoics of the argument for a future world derived from unrequited merit and unpunished crimes1 and the earnestness with which they contended that a good man should act irrespectively of reward1 inclined them1 as it is said to have inclined some ,jewish thinkers1 to the denial of the existence of the reward4 ,panaetius1 the founder of ,roman stoicism1 maintained that the soul perished with the body1 and his opinion was followed by ,epictetus and ,cornutus4 ,seneca contradicted himself on the subject4 ,marcus ,aurelius never rose beyond a vague and mournful aspiration4 ,those who believed in a future world believed it faintly and uncertainly1 and even when they accepted it as a fact1 they shrank from proposing it as a motive4 ,the whole system of stoical ethics1 which carried self-sacrifice to a point that has scarcely been equalled1 and exercised an influence which has rarely been surpassed1 was evolved without any assistance from the doctrine of a future life4 ,pagan antiquity has bequeathed us few nobler treatises of morals than the ,de ,officiis of ,cicero1 which was avowedly an expansion of a work of ,panaetius4 ,it has left us no grander example than that of ,epictetus1 the sickly1 deformed slave of a master who was notorious for his barbarity1 enfrancished late in life1 but soon driven into exile by ,domitian1 who1 while sounding the very abyss of human misery1 and looking forward to death as to simple decomposition1 was yet so filled with the sense of the ,divine presence1 that his life was one continued hymn to ,providence1 and his writings and his example1 which appeared to his contemporaries almost the ideal of human goodness1 have not lost their consoling power through all the ages and the vicissitudes they have survived4 ,there was1 however1 another form of immortality which exercised a much greater influence among the ,roman moralists4 ,the desire for reputation1 and especially for posthumous reputation--that last infirmity of noble minds--assumed an extraordinary prominence among the springs of ,roman heroism1 and was also the origin of that theatrical and overstrained phraseology which the greatest of ancient moralists rarely escaped4 ,but we should be altogether in error if we inferred1 as some have done1 that paganism never rose to the conception of virtue concealing itself from the world1 and consenting voluntarily to degradation4 ,no characters were more highly appreciated in antiquity than those of men who1 through a sense of duty1 opposed the strong current of popular favour2 of men like ,fabius1 who consented for the sake of their country to incur the reputation that is most fatal to a soldier2 of men like ,cato1 who remained unmoved among the scoffs1 the insults1 and the ridicule of an angry crowd4 ,cicero1 expounding the principles of stoicism1 declared that no one has attained to true philosophy who has not learnt that all vice should be avoided1 though it were concealed from the eyes of gods and men1 and that no deeds are more laudable than those which are done without ostentation1 and far from the sight of men4 ,the writings of the ,stoics are crowded with sentences to the same effect4 ,nothing for opinion1 all for conscience4 ,he who wishes his virtue to be blazed abroad is not labouring for virtue but for fame4 ,no one is more virtuous than the man who sacrifices the reputation of a good man rather than sacrifice his conscience4 ,i do not shrink from praise1 but ,i refuse to make it the end and term of right4 ,if you do anything to please men1 you have fallen from your estate4 ,even a bad reputation nobly earned is pleasing4 ,a great man is not the less great when he lies vanquished and prostrate in the dust4 ,never forget that it is possible to be at once a divine man1 yet a man unknown to all the world4 ,that which is beautiful is beautiful in itself2 the praise of man adds nothing to its quality4 ,marcus ,aurelius1 following an example that is ascribed to ,pythagoras1 made it a special object of mental discipline1 by continually meditating on death1 and evoking1 by an effort of the imagination1 whole societies that had passed away1 to acquire a realised sense of the vanity of posthumous fame4 ,the younger ,pliny painted faithfully the ideal of stoicism when he described one of his friends as a man who did nothing for ostentation but all for conscience2 who sought the reward of virtue in itself1 and not in the praise of man4 ,nor were the ,stoics less emphatic in distinguishing the obligation from the attraction of virtue4 ,it was on this point that they separated from the more refined ,epicureans1 who were often willing to sublimate to the highest degree the kind of pleasure they proposed as an object1 provided only it were admitted that pleasure is necessarily the ultimate end of our actions4 ,but this the ,stoics firmly denied4 ,pleasure1 they argued1 is the companion1 not the guide1 of our course4 ,we do not love virtue because it gives us pleasure1 but it gives us pleasure because we love it4 ,the wise man will not sin1 though both gods and men should overlook the deed1 for it is not through the fear of punishment or of shame that he abstains from sin4 ,it is from the desire and obligation of what is just and good4 ,to ask to be paid for virtue is as if the eye demanded a recompense for seeing1 or the feet for walking4 ,in doing good1 man should be like the vine which has produced grapes1 and asks for nothing more after it has produced its proper fruit4 ,his end1 according to these teachers1 is not to find peace either in life or in death4 ,it is to do his duty1 and to tell the truth4 ,the second distinguishing feature of stoicism ,i have noticed was the complete suppression of the affections to make way for the absolute ascendency of reason4 ,there are two great divisions of character corresponding very nearly to the stoical and epicurean temperaments ,i have described--that in which the will predominates1 and that in which the desires are supreme4 ,a good man of the first class is one whose will1 directed by a sense of duty1 pursues the course he believes to be right1 in spite of strong temptations to pursue an opposite course1 arising either from his own passions and tendencies1 or from the circumstances that surround him4 ,a good man of the second class is one who is so happily constituted that his sympathies and desires instinctively tend to virtuous ends4 ,the first character is the only one to which we can1 strictly speaking1 attach the idea of merit1 and is also the only one which is capable of rising to high efforts of continuous and heroic self-sacrifice2 but on the other hand1 there is a charm in the spontaneous action of the unforced desires which disciplined virtue can perhaps never attain4 ,the man who is consistently generous through a sense of duty1 when his natural temperament impels him to avarice1 and when every exercise of benevolence causes him a pang1 deserves in the very highest degree our admiration2 but he whose generosity costs him no effort1 but is the natural gratification of his affections1 attracts a far larger measure of our love4 ,corresponding to these two casts of character1 we find two distinct theories of education1 the aim of the one being chiefly to strengthen the will1 and that of the other to guide the desires4 ,the principal examples of the first are the ,spartan and stoical systems of antiquity1 and1 with some modifications1 the asceticism of the ,middle ,ages4 ,the object of these systems was to enable men to endure pain1 to repress manifest and acknowledged desires1 to relinquish enjoyments1 to establish an absolute empire over their emotions4 ,on the other hand1 there is a method of education which was never more prevalent than in the present day1 which exhausts its efforts in making virtue attractive1 in associating it with all the charms of imagination and of prosperity1 and in thus insensibly drawing the desires in the wished for direction4 ,as the first system is especially suited to a disturbed and military society1 which requires and elicits strong efforts of the will1 and is therefore the special sphere of heroic virtues1 so the latter belongs naturally to a tranquil and highly organised civilisation1 which is therefore very favourable to the amiable qualities1 and it is probable that as civilisation advances1 the heroic type will1 in consequence1 become more and more rare1 and a kind of self-indulgent goodness more common4 ,the circumstances of the ancient societies led them to the former type1 of which the ,stoics furnished the extreme expression in their doctrine that the affections are of the nature of a disease--a doctrine which they justified by the same kind of arguments as those which are now often employed by metaphysicians to prove that love1 anger and the like1 can only be ascribed by a figure of speech to the ,deity4 ,perturbation1 they contended1 is necessarily imperfection1 and none of its forms can in consequence be ascribed to a perfect being4 ,we have a clear intuitive perception that reason is the highest1 and should be the directing power of an intelligent being2 but every act which is performed at the instigation of the emotions is withdrawn from the empire of reason4 ,hence it was inferred that while the will should be educated to act habitually in the direction of virtue1 even the emotions that seem most fitted to second it should be absolutely proscribed4 ,thus ,seneca has elaborated at length the distinction between clemency and pity1 the first being one of the highest virtues1 and the latter a positive vice4 ,clemency1 he says1 is an habitual disposition to gentleness in the application of punishments4 ,it is that moderation which remits something of an incurred penalty2 it is the opposite of cruelty1 which is an habitual disposition to rigour4 ,pity1 on the other hand1 bears to clemency the same kind of relation as superstition to religion4 ,it is the weakness of a feeble mind that flinches at the sight of suffering4 ,clemency is an act of judgment1 but pity disturbs the judgment4 ,clemency adjudicates upon the proportion between suffering and guilt4 ,pity contemplates only suffering1 and gives no thoughts to its cause4 ,clemency1 in the midst of its noblest efforts1 is perfectly passionless2 pity is unreasoning emotion4 ,clemency is an essential characteristic of the sage2 pity is only suited for weak women and for diseased minds4 ,the sage will console those who weep1 but without weeping with them2 he will succour the shipwrecked1 give hospitality to the proscribed1 and alms to the poor1 444 restore the son to the mother's tears1 save the captive from the arena1 and even bury the criminal2 but in all1 his mind and his countenance will be alike untroubled4 ,he will feel no pity4 ,he will succour1 he will do good1 for he is born to assist his fellows1 to labour for the welfare of mankind1 and to offer each one his part4 ,his countenance and his soul will betray no emotion as he looks upon the withered legs1 the tattered rags1 the bent and emaciated frame of the beggar4 ,but he will help those who are worthy1 and1 like the gods1 his leaning will be towards the wretched4444 ,it is only diseased eyes that grow moist in beholding tears in other eyes1 as it is no true sympathy1 but only weakness of nerves1 that leads some to laugh always when others laugh1 or to yawn when others yawn4 ,cicero1 in a sentence which might be adopted as the motto of stoicism1 said that ,homer attributed human qualities to the gods2 it would have been better to have imparted divine qualities to men4 ,the remarkable passage ,i have just cited serves to show the extremes to which the ,stoics pushed this imitation4 ,and indeed1 if we compare the different virtues that have flourished among ,pagans and ,christians1 we invariably find that the prevailing type of excellence among the former is that in which the will and judgment1 and among the latter1 that in which the emotions are most prominent4 ,friendship rather than love1 hospitality rather than charity1 magnanimity rather than tenderness1 clemency rather than sympathy1 are the characteristics of ancient goodness4 ,the ,stoics1 who carried the suppression of the emotions farther than any other school1 laboured with great zeal to compensate the injury thus done to the benevolent side of our nature1 by greatly enlarging the sphere of reasoned and passionless philanthropy4 ,they taught1 in the most emphatic language1 the fraternity of all men1 and the consequent duty of each man consecrating his life to the welfare of others4 ,they developed this general doctrine in a series of detailed precepts1 which1 for the range1 depth1 and beauty of their charity1 have never been surpassed4 ,they even extended their compassion to crime1 and adopting the paradox of ,plato1 that all guilt is ignorance1 treated it as an involuntary disease1 and declared that the only legitimate ground of punishment is prevention4 ,but however fully they might recognise in theory their principles with the widest and most active benevolence1 they could not wholly counteract the practical evil of a system which declared war against the whole emotional side of our being1 and reduced human virtue to a kind of majestic egotism2 proposing as examples such men as ,anaxagoras1 who when told that his son had died1 simply observed1 ,i never supposed that ,i had begotten an immortal1 or as ,stilpo1 who when his country had been ruined1 his native city captured1 and his daughters carried away as slaves or as concubines1 boasted that he had lost nothing1 for the sage is independent of circumstances4 ,the framework or theory of benevolence might be there1 but the animating spirit was absent4 ,men who taught that the husband or the father should look with perfect indifference on the death of his wife or his child1 and that the philosopher1 though he may shed tears of pretended sympathy in order to console his suffering friend1 must suffer no real emotion to penetrate his breast1 could never found a true or lasting religion of benevolence4 ,men who refused to recognise pain and sickness as evils were scarcely likely to be very eager to relieve them in others4 ,in truth1 the ,stoics1 who taught that all virtue was conformity to nature1 were1 in this respect1 eminently false to their own principle4 ,human nature1 as revealed to us by reason1 is a composite thing1 a constitution of many parts differing in kind and dignity1 a hierarchy in which many powers are intended to co-exist1 but in different positions of ascendency or subordination4 ,to make the higher part of our nature our whole nature is not to restore but to mutilate humanity1 and this mutilation has never been attempted without producing grave evils4 ,as philanthropists1 the ,stoics1 through their passion for unity1 were led to the extirpation of those emotions which nature intended as the chief springs of benevolence4 ,as speculative philosophers1 they were entangled by the same desire in a long train of pitiable paradoxes4 ,their famous doctrines that all virtues are equal1 or1 more correctly1 are the same1 that all vices are equal1 that nothing is an evil which does not affect our will1 and that pain and bereavement are1 in consequence1 no ills1 though partially explained away and frequently disregarded by the ,roman ,stoics1 were yet sufficiently prominent to give their teaching something of an unnatural and affected appearance4 ,prizing only a single object1 and developing only a single side of their nature1 their minds became narrow and their views contracted4 ,thus1 while the ,epicureans1 urging men to study nature in order to banish superstition1 endeavoured to correct the ignorance of physical science which was one of the chief impediments to the progress of the ancient mind1 the ,stoics for the most part disdained a study which was other than the pursuit of virtue4 ,while the ,epicurean poet painted in magnificent language the perpetual progress of mankind1 the ,stoic was essentially retrospective1 and exhausted his strength in vain efforts to restore the simplicity of a by-gone age4 ,while1 too1 the school of ,zeno produced many of the best and greatest men who have ever lived1 it must be acknowledged that its records exhibit a rather unusual number of examples of high professions falsified in action1 and of men who1 displaying in some forms the most undoubted and transcendent virtue1 fell in others far below the average of mankind4 ,the elder ,cato1 who1 though not a philosopher1 was a model of philosophers1 was conspicuous for his inhumanity to his slaves4 ,brutus was one of the most extortionate usurers of his time1 and several citizens of ,salamis died of starvation1 imprisoned because they could not pay the sum he demanded4 ,no one eulogised more eloquently the austere simplicity of life which stoicism advocated than ,sallust1 who in a corrupt age was notorious for his rapacity4 ,seneca himself was constitutionally a nervous and timid man1 endeavouring1 not always with success1 to support himself by a sublime philosophy4 ,he guided1 under circumstances of extreme difficulty1 the cause of virtue1 and his death is one of the noblest antiquity records2 but his life was deeply marked by the taint of flattery1 and not free from the taint of avarice1 and it is unhappily certain that1 after its accomplishment1 he lent his pen to conceal or varnish one of the worst crimes of ,nero4 ,the courage of ,lucan failed signally under torture1 and the flattery which he bestowed upon ,nero1 in his ,pharsalia1 ranks with the ,epigrams of ,martial as probably the extreme limit of sycophancy to which ,roman literature descended4 ,while1 too1 the main object of the ,stoics was to popularise philosophy1 the high standard of self-control they exacted rendered their system exceedingly unfit for the great majority of mankind1 and for the ordinary condition of affairs4 ,life is history1 not poetry4 ,it consists mainly of little things1 rarely illumined by flashes of great heroism1 rarely broken by great dangers1 or demanding great exertions4 ,a moral system1 to govern society1 must accommodate itself to common characters and mingled motives4 ,it must be capable of influencing natures that can never rise to an heroic level4 ,it must tincture1 modify1 and mitigate where it cannot eradicate or transform4 ,in ,christianity there are always a few persons seeking by continual and painful efforts to reverse or extinguish the ordinary feelings of humanity1 but in the great majority of cases the influence of the religious principle upon the mind1 though very real1 is not of a nature to cause any serious strain or struggle4 ,it is displayed in a certain acquired spontaneity of impulse4 ,it softens the character1 purifies and directs the imagination1 blends insensibly with the habitual modes of thought1 and1 without revolutionising1 gives a tone and bias to all the forms of action4 ,but stoicism was simply a school of heroes4 ,it recognised no gradations of virtue or vice4 ,it condemned all emotions1 all spontaneity1 all mingled motives1 all the principles1 feelings1 and impulses upon which the virtue of common men mainly depends4 ,it was capable of acting only on moral natures that were strung to the highest tension1 and it was therefore naturally rejected by the multitude4 ,the central conception of this philosophy of self-control was the dignity of man4 ,pride1 which looks within1 making man seek his own approbation1 as distinguished from vanity1 which looks without1 and shapes its conduct according to the opinions of others1 was not only permitted in stoicism1 it was its leading moral agent4 ,the sense of virtue1 as ,i have elsewhere observed1 occupies in this system much the same place as the sense of sin in ,christianity4 ,sin1 in the conception of the ancients1 was simply disease1 and they deemed it the part of a wise man to correct it1 but not to dwell upon its circumstances4 ,in the many disquisitions which ,epictetus and others have left us concerning the proper frame of mind in which man should approach death1 repentance for past sin has absolutely no place1 nor do the ancients appear to have ever realised the purifying and spiritualising influence it exercises upon the character4 ,and while the reality of moral disease was fully recognised1 while an ideal of lofty and indeed unattainable excellence was continually proposed1 no one doubted the essential excellence of human nature1 and very few doubted the possibility of man acquiring by his own will a high degree of virtue4 ,the doctrine of suicide was the culminating point of ,roman stoicism4 ,the proud1 self-reliant1 unbending character of the philosopher1 could only be sustained when he felt that he had a sure refuge against the extreme forms of suffering or of despair4 ,although virtue is not a mere creature of interest1 no great system has ever yet flourished which did not present an ideal of happiness as well as an ideal of duty4 ,stoicism taught men to hope little1 but to fear nothing4 ,it did not array death in brilliant colours1 as the path to positive felicity1 but it endeavoured to divest it1 as the end of suffering1 of every terror4 ,life lost much of its bitterness when men had found a refuge from the storms of fate1 a speedy deliverance from dotage and pain4 ,death ceased to be terrible when it was regarded rather as a remedy than as a sentence4 ,life and death in the stoical system were attuned to the same key4 ,the deification of human virtue1 the total absence of all sense of sin1 the proud stubborn will that deemed humiliation the worst of stains1 appeared alike in each4 ,the type of its own kind was perfect4 ,all the virtues and all the majesty that accompany human pride1 when developed to the highest point1 and directed to the noblest ends1 were here displayed4 ,all those which accompany humility and self-abasement were absent4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #gd3 ,from ,chapter ,,ii1 ,vol4 ,i1 of ,history of ,european ,morals1 #ahfi4 ,the author's foot-notes have been omitted4 ,,the ,,enthusiasm ,,of ,,humanity#ge ,,john ,,robert ,,seeley ,the first method of training this passion which ,christ employed was the direct one of making it a point of duty to feel it4 ,to love one's neighbour as oneself was1 he said1 the first and greatest law4 ,and in the ,sermon on the ,mount he requires the passion to be felt in such strength as to include those whom we have most reason to hate--our enemies and those who maliciously injure us--and delivers an imperative precept1 ,love your enemies4 ,it has been shown that to do this is not1 as might at first appear1 in the nature of things impossible1 but the further question suggests itself1 ,can it be done to order8 ,has the verb to love really an imperative mood8 ,certainly1 to say that we can love at pleasure1 and by a mere effort of will summon up a passion which does not arise of itself1 is to take up a paradoxical and novel position4 ,yet if this position be really untenable1 how is it possible to obey ,christ's commands8 ,the difficulty seems to admit of only one solution4 ,we are not commanded to create by an effort of will a feeling of love in ourselves which otherwise would have had no existence2 the feeling must arise naturally or it cannot arise at all4 ,but a number of causes which are removable may interfere to prevent the feeling from arising or to stifle it as it arises1 and we are commanded to remove these hindrances4 ,it is natural to man to love his kind1 and ,christ commands us only to give nature play4 ,he does not expect us to procure for ourselves hearts of some new supernatural texture1 but merely the heart of flesh for the heart of stone4 ,what1 then1 are the causes of this paralysis of the heart8 ,the experience of human life furnishes us readily with the answer4 ,it constantly happens that one whose affections were originally not less lively than those of most men is thrown into the society of persons destitute of sympathy or tenderness4 ,in this society each person is either totally indifferent to his neighbour or secretly endeavouring to injure or overreach him4 ,the new-comer is at first open-hearted and cordial2 he presumes every one he meets to be a friend1 and is disposed to serve and expects to be served by all alike4 ,but his advances are met by some with cautious reserve1 by others with icy coldness1 by others with hypocritical warmth followed by treacherous injury1 by others with open hostility4 ,the heart which naturally grew warm at the mere sight of a human being1 under the operation of this new experience slowly becomes paralysed4 ,there seats itself gradually in the man's mind a presumption concerning every new face that it is the face of an enemy1 and a habit of gathering himself into an attitude of self-defence whenever he deals with a fellow-creature4 ,if when this new disposition has grown confirmed and habitual1 he be introduced into a society of an opposite kind and meet with people as friendly and kind as he himself was originally1 he will not at first be able to believe in their sincerity1 and the old kindly affections from long disuse will be slow to rouse themselves within him4 ,now to such a person the imperative mood of the verb to love may fairly be used4 ,he may properly be told to make an effort1 to shake off the distrust that oppresses him1--not to suffer unproved suspicions1 causeless jealousies1 to stifle by the mere force of prejudice and mistaken opinion the warmth of feeling natural to him4 ,but we shall have a closer illustration if we suppose the cold-hearted society itself to be addressed by a preacher who wishes to bring them to a better mind4 ,he too may fairly use the imperative mood of the verb to love4 ,for he may say1 ,your mutual coldness does not spring from an original want of the power of sympathy4 ,if it did1 admonitions would indeed be useless4 ,but it springs from a habit of thought which you have formed1 a maxim which has been received among you1 that all men are devoted to self-interest1 that kindness is but feebleness and invites injury4 ,if you will at once and by a common act throw off this false opinion of human nature1 and adopt a new plan of life for yourselves and new expectations of each other1 you will find the old affections natural to all of you1 weakened indeed and chilled1 but existing and capable of being revived by an effort4 ,such a preacher might go further and say1 ,if but a small minority are convinced by my words1 yet let that minority for itself abandon the selfish theory1 let it renounce the safety which that theory affords in dealing with selfish men1 let it treat the enemy as if he were indeed the friend he ought to be1 let it dare to forego retaliation and even self-defence4 ,by this means it will shame many into kindness2 by despising self-interest for itself it will sometimes make it seem despicable to others2 by sincerity and persistency it will gradually convert the majority to a higher law of intercourse4 ,the world has been always more or less like this cold-hearted society2 the natural kindness and fellow-feeling of men have always been more or less repressed by low-minded maxims and cynicism4 ,but in the time of ,christ1 and in the last decrepitude of ethnic morality1 the selfishness of human intercourse was much greater than the present age can easily understand4 ,that system of morality1 even in the times when it was powerful and in many respects beneficial1 had made it almost as much a duty to hate foreigners as to love fellow-citizens4 ,plato congratulates the1 ,athenians on having shown in their relations to ,persia1 beyond all the other ,greeks1 a pure and heartfelt hatred of the foreign nature4#gf ,instead of opposing1 it had sanctioned and consecrated the savage instinct which leads us to hate whatever is strange or unintelligible1 to distrust those who live on the further side of a river1 to suppose that those whom we hear talking together in a foreign tongue must be plotting some mischief against ourselves4 ,the lapse of time and the fusion of races doubtless diminished this antipathy considerably1 but at the utmost it could but be transformed into an icy indifference1 for no cause was in operation to convert it into kindness4 ,on the other hand1 the closeness of the bond which united fellow-citizens was considerably relaxed4 ,common interests and common dangers had drawn it close2 these in the wide security of the ,roman ,empire had no longer a place4 ,it had depended upon an imagined blood-relationship2 fellow-citizens could now no longer feel themselves to be united by the tie of blood4 ,every town was full of resident aliens and emancipated slaves1 persons between whom and the citizens nature had established no connection1 and whose presence in the city had originally been barely tolerated from motives of expediency4 ,the selfishness of modern times exists in defiance of morality1 in ancient times it was approved1 sheltered1 and even in part enjoined by morality4 ,we are therefore to consider the ancient world as a society of men in whom natural humanity existed but had been1 as it were1 crusted or frosted over4 ,inveterate feuds and narrow-minded local jealousies1 arising out of an isolated position or differences of language and institutions1 had created endless divisions between man and man4 ,and as the special virtues of antiquity1 patriotism and all that it implies1 had been in a manner caused and fostered by these very divisions1 they were not regarded as evils but rather cherished as essential to morality4 ,selfishness1 therefore1 was not a mere abuse or corruption arising out of the infirmity of human nature1 but a theory and almost a part of moral philosophy4 ,humanity was cramped by a mistaken prejudice1 by a perverse presumption of the intellect4 ,in a case like this it was necessary and proper to prescribe humanity by direct authoritative precept4 ,such a precept would have been powerless to create the feeling1 nor would it have done much to protect it from being overpowered by the opposite passion1 but the opposite passion of selfishness was at this period justified by authority and claimed to be on the side of reason and law4 ,precept is fairly matched against precept1 and what the law of love and the golden rule did for mankind was to place for the first time the love of man as man distinctly in the list of virtues1 to dissipate the exclusive prejudices of ethnic morality1 and to give selfishness the character of sin4 ,when a theory of selfishness is rife in a whole community1 it is a bold and hazardous step for a part of the community to abandon it4 ,for in the society of selfish people selfishness is simply self-defence2 to renounce it is to evacuate one's entrenched position1 to surrender at discretion to the enemy4 ,if society is to disarm1 it should do so by common consent4 ,christ1 however1 though he confidently expected ultimately to gather all mankind into his society1 did not expect to do so soon4 ,accordingly he commands his followers not to wait for this consummation but1 in spite of the hazardous nature of the step1 to disarm at once4 ,they are sent forth as sheep in the midst of wolves4 ,injuries they are to expect1 but they are neither to shun nor to retaliate them4 ,harmless they are to be as doves4 ,the discipline of suffering will wean them more and more from self1 and make the channels of humanity freer within them2 and sometimes their patience may shame the spoiler2 he may grow weary of rapacity which meets with no resistance1 and be induced to envy those who can forego without reluctance that which he devotes every thought to acquire4 ,but we shall soon be convinced that ,christ could not design by a mere edict1 however authoritative1 to give this passion of humanity strength enough to make it a living and infallible principle of morality in every man1 when we consider1 first1 what an ardent enthusiasm he demanded from his followers1 and secondly1 how frail and tender a germ this passion naturally is in human nature4 ,widely diffused indeed it is1 and seldom entirely eradicated2 but for the most part1 at least in the ancient world1 it was crushed under a weight of predominant passions and interests2 it had seldom power enough to dictate any action1 but made itself felt in faint misgivings and relentings1 which sometimes restrained men from extremes of cruelty4 ,like ,enceladus under ,aetna1 it lay fettered at the bottom of human nature1 now and then making the mass above it quake by an uneasy change of posture4 ,to make this outraged and enslaved passion predominant1 to give it1 instead of a veto rarely used1 the whole power of government1 to train it from a dim misgiving into a clear and strong passion1 required much more than a precept4 ,the precept had its use2 it could make men feel it right to be humane and desire to be so1 but it could never inspire them with an enthusiasm of humanity4 ,from what source was this inspiration to be derived8 ,humanity1 we have already observed1 is neither a love for the whole human race1 nor a love for each individual of it1 but a love for the race1 or for the ideal of man1 in each individual4 ,in other and less pedantic words1 he who is truly humane considers every human being as such interesting and important1 and without waiting to criticise each individual specimen1 pays in advance to all alike the tribute of good wishes and sympathy4 ,now this favourable presumption with regard to human beings is not a causeless prepossession1 it is no idle superstition of the mind1 nor is it a natural instinct4 ,it is a feeling founded on the actual observation and discovery of interesting and noble qualities in particular human beings1 and it is strong or weak in proportion as the person who has the feeling has known many or few noble and amiable human beings4 ,there are men who have1 been so unfortunate as to live in the perpetual society of the mean and the base2 they have never1 except in a few faint glimpses1 seen anything glorious or good in human nature4 ,with these the feeling of humanity has a perpetual struggle for existence1 their minds tend by a fatal gravitation to the belief that the happiness or misery of such a paltry race is wholly unimportant2 they may arrive finally at a fixed condition1 in which it may be said of them without qualification1 that man delights not them1 nor woman neither4 ,in this final stage they are men who1 beyond the routine of life1 should not be trusted1 being fit for treasons1 stratagems1 and spoils4 ,on the other hand1 there are those whose lot it has been from earliest childhood to see the fair side of humanity1 who have been surrounded with clear and candid countenances1 in the changes of which might be traced the working of passions strong and simple1 the impress of a firm and tender nature1 wearing when it looked abroad the glow of sympathy1 and when it looked within the bloom of modesty4 ,they have seen1 and not once or twice1 a man forget himself2 they have witnessed devotion1 unselfish sorrow1 unaffected delicacy1 spontaneous charity1 ingenuous self-reproach2 and it may be that on seeing a human being surrender for another's good not something but his uttermost all1 they have dimly suspected in human nature a glory connecting it with the divine4 ,in these the passion of humanity is warm and ready to become on occasion a burning flame2 their whole minds are elevated1 because they are possessed with the dignity of that nature they share1 and of the society in the midst of which they move4 ,but it is not absolutely necessary to humanity that a man shall have seen many men whom he can respect4 ,the most lost cynic will get a new heart by learning thoroughly to believe in the virtue of one man4 ,our estimate of human nature is in proportion to the best specimen of it we have witnessed4 ,this then it is which is wanted to raise the feeling of humanity into an enthusiasm2 when the precept of love has been given1 an image must be set before the eyes of those who are called upon to obey it1 an ideal or type of man which may be noble and amiable enough to raise the whole race and make the meanest member of it sacred with reflected glory4 ,did not ,christ do this8 ,did the command to love go forth to those who had never seen a human being they could revere8 ,could his followers turn upon him and say1 ,how can we love a creature so degraded1 full of vile wants and contemptible passions1 whose little life is most harmlessly spent when it is an empty round of eating and sleeping2 a creature destined for the grave and for oblivion when his allotted term of fretfulness and folly has expired8 ,of this race ,christ himself was a member1 and to this day is it not the best answer to all blasphemers of the species1 the best consolation when our sense of its degradation is keenest1 that a human brain was behind his forehead and a human heart beating in his breast1 and that within the whole creation of ,god nothing more elevated or more attractive has yet been found than he8 ,and if it be answered that there was in his nature something exceptional and peculiar1 that humanity must not be measured by the stature of ,christ1 let us remember that it was precisely thus that he wished it to be measured1 delighting to call himself the ,son of ,man1 delighting to call the meanest of mankind his brothers4 ,if some human beings are abject and contemptible1 if it be incredible to us that they can have any high dignity or destiny1 do we regard them from so great a height as ,christ8 ,are we likely to be more pained by their faults and deficiencies than he was8 ,is our standard higher than his8 ,and yet he associated by preference with these meanest of the race2 no contempt for them did he ever express1 no suspicion that they might be less dear than the best and wisest to the common ,father1 no doubt that they were naturally capable of rising to a moral elevation like his own4 ,there is nothing of which a man may be prouder than of this2 it is the most hopeful and redeeming fact in history2 it is precisely what was wanting to raise the love of man as man to enthusiasm4 ,an eternal glory has been shed upon the human race by the love ,christ bore to it4 ,and it was because the ,edict of ,universal ,love went forth to men whose hearts were in no cynical mood but possessed with a spirit of devotion to a man1 that words which at any other time1 however grandly they might sound1 would have been but words1 penetrated so deeply1 and along with the law of love the power of ,jove was given4 ,therefore also the first ,christians were enabled to dispense with philosophical phrases1 and instead of saying that they loved the ideal of man in man could simply say and feel that they loved ,christ in every man4 ,we have here the very kernel of the ,christian moral scheme4 ,we have distinctly before us the end ,christ proposed to himself1 and the means he considered adequate to the attainment of it4 ,his object was1 instead of drawing up1 after the example of previous legislators1 a list of actions prescribed1 allowed1 and prohibited1 to give his disciples a universal test by which they might discover what it was right and what it was wrong to do4 ,now as the difficulty of discovering what is right arises commonly from the prevalence of self-interest in our minds1 and as we commonly behave rightly to anyone for whom we feel affection or sympathy1 ,christ considered that he who could feel sympathy for all would behave rightly to all4 ,but how to give to the meagre and narrow hearts of men such enlargement8 ,how to make them capable of a universal sympathy8 ,christ believed it possible to bind men to their kind1 but on one condition--that they were first bound fast to himself4 ,he stood forth as the representative of men1 he identified himself with the cause and with the interests of all human beings1 he was destined1 as he began before long obscurely to intimate1 to lay down his life for them4 ,few of us sympathise originally and directly with this devotion2 few of us can perceive in human nature itself any merit sufficient to evoke it4 ,but it is not so hard to love and venerate him who felt it4 ,so vast a passion of love1 a devotion so comprehensive1 elevated1 deliberate and profound1 has not elsewhere been in any degree approached save by some of his imitators4 ,and as love provokes love1 many have found it possible to conceive for ,christ an attachment the closeness of which no words can describe1 a veneration so possessing and absorbing the man within them1 that they have said1 ,i live no more1 but ,christ lives in me4 ,now such a feeling carries with it of necessity the feeling of love for all human beings4 ,it matters no longer what quality men may exhibit2 amiable or unamiable1 as the brothers of ,christ1 as belonging to his sacred and consecrated kind1 as the objects of his love in life and death1 they must be dear to all to whom he is dear4 ,and those who would for a moment know his heart and understand his life must begin by thinking of the whole race of man1 and of each member of the race1 with awful reverence and hope4 ,love1 wheresoever it appears1 is in its measure a law-making power4 ,love is dutiful in thought and deed4 ,and as the lover of his country is free from the temptation to treason1 so is he who loves ,christ secure from the temptation to injure any human being1 whether it be himself or another4 ,he is indeed much more than this4 ,he is bound and he is eager to benefit and bless to the utmost of his power all that bear his ,master's nature1 and that not merely with the good gifts of the earth1 but with whatever cherishes and trains best the ,christ within them4 ,but for the present we are concerned merely with the power of this passion to lift the man out of sin4 ,the injuries he committed lightly when he regarded his fellow-creatures simply as animals who added to the fierceness of the brute an ingenuity and forethought that made them doubly noxious1 become horrible sacrilege when he sees in them no longer the animal but the ,christ4 ,and that other class of crimes which belongs more especially to ages of civilisation1 and arises out of a cynical contempt for the species1 is rendered equally impossible to the man who hears with reverence the announcement1 ,the good deeds you did to the least of these my brethren you did to me4 ,there are two objections which may suggest themselves at this point1 the one to intellectual1 the other to practical men4 ,the intellectual man may say1 ,to discover what it is right to do in any given case is not the province of any feeling or passion however sublime1 but requires the application of the same intellectual power which solves mathematical problems4 ,the common acts of life may no doubt be performed correctly by unintellectual people1 but this is because these constantly recurring problems have been solved long ago by clever people1 and the vulgar are now in possession of the results4 ,whenever a new combination occurs it is a matter for casuists2 the best intentions will avail little2 there is doubtless a great difference between a good man and a bad one2 the one will do what is right when he knows it1 and the other will not2 but in respect for the power of ascertaining what it is right to do1 supposing their knowledge of casuistry to be equal1 they are on a par4 ,goodness or the passion of humanity1 or ,christian love1 may be a motive inducing men to keep the law1 but it has no right to be called the law-making power4 ,and what has ,christianity added to our theoretic knowledge of morality8 ,it may have made men practically more moral1 but has it added anything to ,aristotle's ,ethics8 ,certainly ,christianity has no ambition to invade the provinces of the moralist or the casuist4 ,but the difficulties which beset the discovery of the right moral course are of two kinds4 ,there are the difficulties which arise1 from the blinding and confusing effect of selfish passions1 and which obscure from the view the end which should be aimed at in action2 when these have been overcome there arises a new set of difficulties concerning the means by which the end should be attained4 ,in dealing with your neighbour the first thing to be understood is that his interest is to be considered as well as your own2 but when this has been settled1 it remains to be considered what his interest is4 ,the latter class of difficulties requires to be dealt with by the intellectual or calculating faculty4 ,the former class can only be dealt with by the moral force of sympathy4 ,now it is true that the right action will not be performed without the operation of both these agencies4 ,but the moral agency is the dominant one throughout2 it is that without which the very conception of law is impossible2 it overcomes those difficulties which in the vast majority of practical cases are the most serious4 ,the calculating casuistical faculty is1 as it were1 in its employ1 and it is no more improper to call it the law-making power1 although it does not ultimately decide what action is to be performed1 than to say that a house was built by one who did not with his own hands lay the bricks and spread the mortar4 ,the objection which practical men take is a very important one1 as the criticisms of such men always are1 being founded commonly upon large observation and not perverted by theory4 ,they say that the love of ,christ does not in practice produce the nobleness and largeness of character which has been represented as its proper and natural result2 that instead of inspiring those who feel it with reverence and hope for their kind1 it makes them exceedingly narrow in their sympathies1 disposed to deny and explain away even the most manifest virtues displayed by men1 and to despair of the future destiny of the great majority of their fellow-creatures2 that instead of binding them to their kind1 it divides them from it by a gulf which they themselves proclaim to be impassable and eternal1 and unites them only in a gloomy conspiracy of misanthropy with each other2 that it is indeed a law-making power1 but that the laws it makes are little-minded and vexatious prohibitions of things innocent1 demoralising restraints upon the freedom of joy and the healthy instincts of nature2 that it favours hypocrisy1 moroseness1 and sometimes lunacy2 that the only vice it has power to check is thoughtlessness1 and its only beneficial effect is that of forcing into activity1 though not always into healthy activity1 the faculty of serious reflection4 ,this may be a just picture of a large class of religious men1 but it is impossible in the nature of things that such effects should be produced by a pure personal devotion to ,christ4 ,we are to remember that nothing has been subjected to such multiform and grotesque perversion as ,christianity4 ,certainly the direct love of ,christ1 as it was felt by its first followers1 is a rare thing among modern ,christians4 ,his character has been so much obscured by scholasticism1 as to have lost in a great measure its attractive power4 ,the prevalent feeling towards him now among religious men is an awful fear of his supernatural greatness1 and a disposition to obey his commands arising partly from dread of future punishment and hope of reward1 and partly from a nobler feeling of loyalty1 which1 however1 is inspired rather by his office than his person4 ,beyond this we may discern in them an uneasy conviction that he requires a more personal devotion1 which leads to spasmodic efforts to kindle the feeling by means of violent raptures of panegyric and by repeating over and getting by rote the ardent expressions of those who really had it4 ,that is wanting for the most part which ,christ held to be all in all1 spontaneous warmth1 free and generous devotion4 ,that the fruits of a ,christianity so hollow should be poor and sickly is not surprising4 ,but that ,christ's method1 when rightly applied1 is really of mighty force may be shown by an argument which the severest censor of ,christians will hardly refuse to admit4 ,compare the ancient with the modern world3 ,look on this picture and on that4 ,one broad distinction in the characters of men forces itself into prominence4 ,among all the men of the ancient heathen world there were scarcely one or two to whom we might venture to apply the epithet holy4 ,in other words1 there were not more than one or two1 if any1 who besides being virtuous in their actions were possessed with an unaffected enthusiasm of goodness1 and besides abstaining from vice regarded even a vicious thought with horror4 ,probably no one will deny that in ,christian countries this higher-toned goodness1 which we call holiness1 has existed4 ,few will maintain that it has been exceedingly rare4 ,perhaps the truth is1 that there has scarcely been a town in any ,christian country since the time of ,christ where a century has passed without exhibiting a character of such elevation that his mere presence has shamed the bad and made the good better1 and has been felt at times like the presence of ,god ,himself4 ,and if this be so1 has ,christ failed8 or can ,christianity die8 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #ge3 ,chapter ,,xiv of ,ecce ,homo1 a ,survey of the ,life and work of ,jesus ,christ1 #ahfe4 ,footnote #gf3 ,plato1 ,menexenus4--,author's note4 ,,loyalty ,,and ,,insight#gg ,,josiah ,,royce ,upon an occasion like this1 when the children1 the servants1 and the friends of this institution meet for their annual festival1 there is one word that best expresses the spirit of the occasion4 ,it is the word loyalty1--loyalty to your ,college1 to its ideals1 to its life1 and to the unity and effectiveness of this life4 ,and amongst the ideals that inspire the life of your ,college1 and make that life effective and united1 there is one which is prominent in all your minds1 whatever your special studies1 your practical aims1 or your hopes4 ,it is the ideal of furthering1 in all your minds1 what we may call insight1--the ideal of learning to see life as it is1 to know the world as we men need to know it1 and to guide our purposes as we ought to guide them4 ,it is also the ideal of teaching to others the art of just such insight4 ,these two words1 then1 loyalty and insight1 name1 one of them1 the spirit in which1 upon such occasions as this1 we all meet2 the other1 the ideal that determines the studies and the researches of any modern institution of learning4 ,upon each day of its year of work your ,college says to its children and to its servants and to its community3 ,let us know1 let us see1 let us comprehend1 let us guide life by wisdom1 and in turn let us discover new wisdom for the sake of winning new life4 ,but upon a day like the present one1 the work of the year being laid aside1 your ,college asks and receives your united expression of loyalty to its cause4 ,perhaps some of you may feel that for just this moment you have left behind1 at least temporarily1 the task of winning insight4 ,you enjoy1 for the hour1 the fruits of toil4 ,study and research cease1 you may say1 for to-day1 while the spirit of loyalty finds its own free expression and takes content in its holiday4 ,i agree that the holidays and the working days have a different place in our lives4 ,but it is my purpose in this address to say something about the connections between the spirit which rules this occasion--the spirit of loyalty--and the ideal by which the year's work has to be guided1--the ideal of furthering true insight4 ,the loyalty that now fills your minds is merely one expression of a certain spirit which ought to pervade all our lives--not only in our studies1 but in our homes1 in our offices1 in our political and civic life--not merely upon holidays1 or upon other great occasions1 but upon our working days2 and most of all when our tasks seem commonplace and heavy4 ,and1 on the other hand1 the insight which you seek to get whenever1 in the academic world1 you work in the laboratory or in the field1 in the library or in the classroom or alone in your study1 the insight that you try both to embody in your practical life and to enrich through your researches1--just this insight1 ,i say1 is best to be furthered by a right cultivation of the spirit of loyalty4 ,i suppose that when ,i utter these words1 you will easily give to them a certain general assent4 ,but ,i want to devote this address to making just such words mean more to you than at first they may appear to mean4 ,first1 then1 let me tell you what ,i myself mean by the term loyalty4 ,then let me deal with my principal thesis1 which is that the true spirit of loyalty is not merely a proper accompaniment of all serious work1 but is an especially important source of a very deep insight into the meaning of life1 and1 as ,i personally believe1 into the nature of the whole universe4 ,three sorts of persons1 ,i have noticed1 are fond of using the term loyalty4 ,these are quite different types of persons2 or1 in any case1 they use the word upon very different occasions4 ,but these very differences are to my mind important4 ,the first type of those who love to use the term loyalty consists of those who employ it to express a certain glow of enthusiastic devotion1 the type of the lovers1 of the students when the athletic contests are near1 of the partisans in the heat of a political contest1 or of the friends of an institution upon a day like this4 ,to such persons1 or at least at such moments1 loyalty is conceived as something brilliantly emotional1 as a passion of devotion4 ,the second class of those who are fond of the word loyalty are the warriors and their admirers4 ,to such persons loyalty means a willingness to do dangerous service1 to sacrifice life1 to toil long and hard for the flag that one follows4 ,but for a third type of those who employ the word1 loyalty especially means steady1 often unobtrusive1 fidelity to more or less formal obligations1 such as the business world and the workshop impose upon us4 ,such persons think of loyalty as1 first of all1 faithfulness in obeying the law of the land1 or in executing the plans of one's official superiors1 or in serving one's employer or one's client or one's chief1 or one's fraternity or other social union4 ,in this sense the loyal servant may be obscure and unemotional4 ,but he is trustworthy4 ,now1 a word which thus so forcibly appeals to the lovers who want to express their passionate devotion1 and also to the soldiers who want to name that obstinate following of the flag which makes victory possible2 a word which business men also sometimes use to characterize the quietly and industriously faithful employee who obeys orders1 who betrays no secrets1 and who regards the firm's interest as his own2--well1 such a word1 ,i think1 is not as much ambiguous as deep in its meaning4 ,for1 after all1 loyal emotions1 loyal sacrifice of life1 loyal steadiness in obscure service1 are but various symptoms of a certain spirit which lies beneath all its various expressions4 ,this spirit is a well-known one4 ,all the higher life of society depends upon it4 ,it may manifest itself as enthusiasm upon an occasion like this1 or as contempt for death upon the battle field1 or as quiet service when the toil of life is grim1 or as the cool fidelity that pursues the daily routine of office or of workshop or of kitchen with a steady persistence and with a simple acceptance of traditional duties or of the day's toil4 ,but the spirit thus manifested is not exhausted by any of its symptoms4 ,the appearances of loyalty are manifold4 ,its meaning is one4 ,and ,i myself venture to state what the true spirit of loyalty is by defining the term thus3 ,by loyalty ,i mean the thorough-going1 the voluntary1 and the practical devotion of a self to a cause4 ,and by a cause ,i mean something of the nature that the true lover has in mind when he is wisely devoted to his love2 that the faithful member of a family serves when the family itself is the cause dear to him2 that the member of a fraternity1 or the child of a college1 or the devoted professional man1 or the patriot1 or the martyr1 or the faithful workman conceives when he thinks of that to which he gives his life4 ,as all these illustrations suggest1 the cause to which one can be loyal is never a mere collection of individuals2 nor is it ever a mere abstract principle4 ,this cause1 whether in the church or the army or the workshop1 in the home or in the friendship1 is some sort of unity whereby many persons are joined in one common life4 ,the cause to which a loyal man is devoted is of the nature of an institution1 or of a home life1 or of a fraternity1 wherein two or more persons aim to become one2 or of a religion1 wherein the unity of the spirit is sought through the communion of the faithful4 ,loyalty respects individuals1 but aims to bring them together into one common life4 ,its command to the loyal is3 ,be 'one undivided soul of many a soul'4 ,it recognizes that1 when apart1 individuals fail2 but that when they try to unite their lives into one common higher selfhood1 to live as if they were the expressions1 the instruments1 the organs of one ideally beautiful social group1 they win the only possible fulfillment of the meaning of human existence4 ,through loyalty to such a cause1 through devotion to an ideally united social group1 and only through such loyalty1 can the problems of human personality be solved4 ,by nature1 and apart from some cause to which we are loyal1 each of us is but a mass of caprices1 a chaos of distracting passions1 a longing for happiness that is never fulfilled1 a seeking for success which never attains its goal4 ,meanwhile1 no merely customary morality ever adequately guides our lives4 ,mere social authority never meets our needs4 ,but a cause1 some unity of many lives in one1 some call upon the individual to give himself over to the service of an idealized community--this gives sense to life4 ,this1 when we feel its presence1 as we do upon this occasion1 we love1 as the lovers love the common life of friendship that is to make them one1 or as the mothers delight in the life that is to unite themselves and their children in the family1 or as the devout feel that through their communion in the life of their church they become one with the ,divine ,spirit4 ,for such a cause we can make sacrifices1 such as the soldier makes in following the flag4 ,for what is the fortune of any detached self as compared with the one cause of the whole country8 ,and just such a voluntary devotion to a cause can ennoble the routine of the humblest daily business1 in the office1 in the household1 in the school1 at the desk1 or in the market place1 if one only finds the cause that can hold his devotion--be this cause his business firm or his profession or his household or his country or his church1 or all these at once4 ,for all these causes have their value in this3 that through the business firm1 or the household1 or the profession1 or the spiritual community1 the lives of many human selves are woven into one1 so that our fortunes and interests are no longer conceived as detached and private1 but as a giving of ourselves in order that the social group to which we are devoted should live its own united life4 ,with this bare indication of what ,i mean by loyalty1 ,i may now say that of late years ,i have attempted to show in detail1 in various discussions of our topic1 that the spirit of loyalty1 rightly understood1 and practically applied1 furnishes an adequate solution for all the problems of the moral life4 ,the whole moral law can be summed up in the two commandments3 first1 ,be loyal2 and secondly1 ,so choose1 so serve1 and so unify the life causes to which you yourself are loyal that1 through your choice1 through your service1 through your example1 and through your dealings with all men1 you may1 as far as in you lies1 help other people to be loyal to their own causes2 may avoid cheating them of their opportunities for loyalty2 may inspire them with their own best type of loyalty1 and may so best serve the one great cause of the spread of loyalty among mankind4 ,or1 if ,i may borrow and adapt for a worthy end ,lincoln's immortal words1 the moral law is this3 ,let us so live1 so love1 and so serve1 that loyalty of the people1 by the people1 for the people1 shall not perish from the earth1 but shall prosper and abound4 ,the scheme of life thus suggested is1 ,i believe1 adequate4 ,i next want to tell what bearing the spirit of loyalty has upon insight4 ,the insight that all of us most need and desire is an insight1 first1 into the business of life itself1 and next into the nature and meaning of the real world in which we live4 ,our forefathers used to center all their views of life and of the world about their religion4 ,many of the leading minds of to-day center their modern insight about the results of science4 ,in consequence1 what ,i may call the general problems of insight1 and the views of life and of the world which most of us get from our studies1 have come of late to appear very different from the views and the problems which our own leading countrymen a century ago regarded as most important4 ,the result is that the great problem of the philosophy of life to-day may be defined as the effort to see whether1 and how1 you can cling to a genuinely ideal and spiritual interpretation of your own nature and of your duty1 while abandoning superstition1 and while keeping in close touch with the results of modern knowledge about man and nature4 ,let me briefly indicate what ,i mean by this problem of a modern philosophy of life4 ,from the modern point of view great stress has been laid upon the fact that man1 as we know man1 appears to be subject to the laws of the natural world4 ,modern knowledge makes these laws appear very far-reaching1 very rigid1 and very much of the type that we call mechanical4 ,we have1 therefore1 most of us1 learned not to expect miraculous interferences with the course of nature as aids in our human conflict with destiny4 ,we have been taught to regard ourselves as the products of a long process of natural evolution4 ,we have come to think that man's control over nature has to take the general form which our industrial arts illustrate1 and which our recent contests with disease1 such as the wars with tuberculosis and with yellow fever1 exemplify4 ,man1 we have been led to say1 wins his way only by studying nature and by applying his carefully won empirical knowledge to the guidance of his arts4 ,the business of life--so we have been moved to assert--must therefore be guided simply by an union of plain common sense with the scientific study of nature4 ,the real world1 we have been disposed to say1 is1 on the whole1 so far as we can know it1 a mechanism4 ,therefore the best ideal of life involves simply the more or less complete control of this mechanism for useful and humane ends4 ,such1 ,i say1 is one very commonly accepted result to which modern knowledge seems to have led men4 ,the practical view of life and of its business which expresses this result has been1 for many of us1 twofold4 ,first1 we have been led to this well-known precept3 ,if you want to live wisely1 you must1 at all events1 avoid superstition4 ,that is1 you must not try to guide human life by dealing with such supernatural powers1 good and evil1 as the mythologies of the past used to view as the controlling forces of human destiny4 ,you must take natural laws as you find them4 ,you must believe about the real world simply what you can confirm by the verdict of human experience4 ,you must put no false hopes either in magic arts or in useless appeals to the gods4 ,you must1 for instance1 fight tuberculosis not by prayer1 but by knowing the conditions that produce it and the natural processes that tend to destroy its germs4 ,and so1 in general1 in order to live well and wisely you must be a naturalist and not a supernaturalist4 ,or in any case you must conform your common sense not to the imagination that in the past peopled the dream world of humanity with good and evil spirits1 but to the carefully won insight that has shown us that our world is one where natural law reigns unyielding1 defying equally our magic arts and our prayerful desires for divine aid4 ,but secondly1 side by side with this decidedly positive advice1 many of us have been brought to accept a practical attitude towards the world which has seemed to us negative and discouraging4 ,this second attitude may be expressed in the sad precept3 ,hope not to find this world in any universal sense a world of ideal values4 ,nature is indifferent to values4 ,values are human1 and merely human4 ,man can indeed give to his own life much of what he calls value1 if he uses his natural knowledge for human ends4 ,but when he sets out upon this task1 he ought to know that1 however sweet and ideal human companionship may be as it exists among men1 humanity as a whole must fight its battle with nature and with the universe substantially alone1 comfortless except for the comforts that it wins precisely as it builds its houses2 namely1 by using the mechanisms of nature for its own purposes4 ,the world happens1 indeed1 to give man some power to control natural conditions4 ,but even this power is due to the very fact that man also is one of nature's products1--a product possessing a certain stability1 a certain natural plasticity and docility1 a limited range of natural initiative4 ,as a rock may deflect a stream1 so man1 himself a natural mechanism1 may turn the stream of nature's energies into paths that are temporarily useful for human purposes4 ,but from the modern point of view the ancient plaint of the ,book of ,job remains true1 both for the rock and for the man3 ,the waters wear away stones1 ,and the hope of frail man thou destroyest4 ,in the end1 our relations to the universe thus seem to remain relations to an essentially foreign power1 which cares for our ideals as the stormy sea cares for the boat1 and as the bacteria care for the human organism upon which they prey4 ,if we ourselves1 as products of nature1 are sufficiently strong mechanisms1 we may be able to win1 while life lasts1 many ideal goods4 ,but just so1 if the boat is well enough built1 it may weather one or another passing storm4 ,if the body is well knit1 it may long remain immune to disease4 ,yet in the end the boat and the human body fail4 ,and in no case1 so this view asserts1 does the real world essentially care for or help or encourage our ideals4 ,our ideals are as foreign to the real natural world as the interests of the ship's company are to the ocean that may tolerate1 but also may drown them4 ,be free from superstition1 then2 and next3 avoid false hopes4 ,such are the two theses that seem to embody for many minds the essentially modern view of things and the essential result for the philosophy of life of what we have now learned4 ,but hereupon the question arises whether this is indeed the last word of insight2 whether this outcome of modern knowledge does indeed tell the whole story of our relations to the real world4 ,that this modern view has its own share of deeper truth we all recognize4 ,but is this the whole truth8 ,have we no access whatever to any other aspect of reality than the one which this naturalistic view emphasizes8 ,and again1 the question still arises3 ,is there any place left for a religion that can be free from superstition1 that can accept just so much of the foregoing modern results as are indeed established1 and that can yet supplement them by an insight which may show the universe to be1 after all1 something more than a mechanism8 ,in sum1 are we merely stones that deflect the stream for a while1 until the waters wear them away8 ,or are there spiritual hopes of humanity which the mechanism of nature cannot destroy8 ,is the philosophy of life capable of giving us something more than a naturalism--humanized merely by the thought that man1 being1 after all1 a well-knit and plastic mechanism1 can for a time mold nature to his ends8 ,so much for the great problem of modern insight4 ,let us turn to consider the relation of the spirit of loyalty to this problem4 ,what light can a study of the spirit of loyalty1 as ,i just defined loyalty--what light1 ,i say1 can such a study throw upon this problem8 ,very little--so some of you may say2 for any discussion of the spirit of loyalty can tell us nothing to make nature's mechanism more comprehensible4 ,one who favors loyalty as a way of solving life's problems tells us about a certain ideal of human life1--an ideal which1 as ,i have asserted1 does tend to solve our personal moral problems precisely in so far as we are able to express this ideal in our practical lives4 ,in order to be loyal you indeed have no need to believe in any of the well-known miracles of popular tradition4 ,and equally1 in order to be loyal1 you have no need1 first1 to decide whether nature is or is not a mechanism2 or whether the modern view of reality1 as just summarized1 is or is not adequate2 or whether the gods exist2 or whether man is or is not one of nature's products and temporarily well-knit and plastic machines4 ,our doctrine of loyalty is founded not upon a decision about nature's supposed mechanism1 but upon a study of man's own inner and deeper needs4 ,it is a doctrine about the plan and the business of human life4 ,it seems1 therefore1 to be neutral as to every so-called conflict between science and religion4 ,but now1 in answer to these remarks1 ,i have to show that the doctrine of loyalty1 once rightly understood1 has yet a further application4 ,it is a doctrine that1 when more fully interpreted1 helps us toward a genuine insight1 not only into the plan of life1 but into the nature of things4 ,the philosophy of loyalty has nothing to say against precisely so much of naturalism as is indeed an established result of common sense and of the scientific study of nature4 ,the theory of the loyal life involves nothing superstitious--no trust in magic1 no leaning upon the intervention of such spiritual agencies as the old mythologies conceived4 ,and yet1 as ,i shall insist1 nobody can understand and practise the loyal spirit without tending thereby to get a true view of the nature of things1 a genuine touch with reality1 which cannot be gained without seeing that1 however much of a mechanism nature may appear to be1 the real world is something much more than a mechanism1 and much more significant than are the waters which wear away stones4 ,let me indicate what ,i mean by repeating in brief my doctrine of loyalty--with reference to the spirit which it involves1 and with reference to the view of the realities of human life which it inevitably includes4 ,whoever is loyal has found some cause1 ,i have said1--a cause to which1 by his inner interests1 he is indeed attracted so that the cause is fascinating to his sentiments4 ,but the cause is also one to which the loyal man is meanwhile practically and voluntarily devoted1 so that his loyalty is no mere glow of enthusiasm1 but is an affair of his deeds as well as of his emotions4 ,loyalty ,i therefore defined as the thorough-going and practical devotion of a self to a cause4 ,why loyalty is a duty2 how loyalty is possible for every normal human being2 how it can appear early in youth1 and then grow though life2 how it can be at once faithful to its own1 and yet can constantly enlarge its scope2 how it can become universally human in its interests without losing its concreteness1 and without failing to keep in touch with the personal affections and the private concerns of the loyal person2 how loyalty is a virtue for all men1 however humble and however exalted they may be2 how the loyal service of the tasks of a single possibly narrow life can be viewed as a service of the cause of universal loyalty1 and so of the interests of all humanity2 how all special duties of life can be stated in terms of a duly generalized spirit of loyalty2 and how moral conflicts can be solved1 and moral divisions made1 in the light of the principle of loyalty2 all this ,i have asserted1 although here is indeed no time for adequate discussion4 ,but hereupon ,i want to concentrate our whole attention1 not upon the consequences and applications of the doctrine of loyalty1 but upon the most central characteristic of the loyal spirit4 ,this central characteristic of the loyal spirit consists in the fact that it conceives and values its cause as a reality1 as an object that has a being of its own2 while the type of reality which belongs to a cause is different from the type of reality which we ascribe either to a thing in the physical world or to a law of nature4 ,a cause is never a mere mechanism4 ,it is an essentially spiritual reality4 ,if the loyal human being is right in the account which he gives of his cause1 then the real world contains beings which are not mere natural objects1 and is subject to laws which1 without in the least running counter to the laws of outer nature1 are the laws of an essentially spiritual realm1 whose type of being is superior to that possessed by the order of nature which our industrial arts use4 ,either1 then1 loyalty is altogether a service of myths1 or else the causes which the loyal serve belong to a realm of real being which is above the level of mere natural fact and natural law4 ,in the latter case the real world is not indifferent to our human search for values4 ,the modern naturalistic and mechanical views of reality are not1 indeed1 false within their own proper range1 but they are inadequate to tell us the whole truth4 ,and reality contains1 further1 and is characterized by1 an essentially spiritual order of being4 ,i have been speaking to persons who1 as ,i have trusted1 well know1 so far as they have yet had time to learn the lessons of life1 something of what loyalty means4 ,come1 then1 let us consider what is the sort of object that you have present to your mind when you are loyal to a cause4 ,if your cause is a reality1 what kind of a being is it8 ,if causes are realities1 then in what sort of a real world do you live8 ,i have already indicated that1 while loyalty always includes personal affections1 while you can never be loyal to what you take to be a merely abstract principle1 nevertheless1 it is equally true that you can never be genuinely loyal merely to an individual human being1 taken just as this detached creature4 ,you can1 indeed1 love your friend1 viewed just as this individual4 ,but love for an individual is so far just a fondness for a fascinating human presence1 and is essentially capricious1 whether it lasts or is transient4 ,you can be1 and should be1 loyal to your friendship1 to the union of yourself and your friend1 to that ideal comradeship which is neither of you alone1 and which is not the mere doubleness that consists of you and your friend taken as two detached beings who happen to find one another's presence agreeable4 ,loyalty to a friendship involves your willingness actively and practically to create and maintain a life which is to be the united life of yourself and your friend--not the life of your friend alone1 nor the life of yourself and your friend as you exist apart1 but the common life1 the life above and inclusive of your distinctions1 the one life that you are to live as friends4 ,to the tie1 to the unity1 to the common life1 to the union of friends1 you can be loyal4 ,without such loyalty friendship consists only of its routine of more or less attractive private sentiments and mere meetings1 each one of which is one more chance experience1 heaped together with other chance experiences4 ,but with such true loyalty your friendship becomes1 at least in ideal1 a new life--a life that neither of you could have alone2 a life that is not a mere round of separate private amusements1 but that belongs to a new type of dual yet unified personality4 ,nor are you loyal to your friendship merely as to an abstraction4 ,you are loyal to it as to the common better self of both of you1 a self that lives its own real life4 ,either such a loyalty to your friendship is a belief in myths1 or else such a type of higher and unified dual personality actually possesses a reality of its own1--a reality that you cannot adequately describe by reporting1 as to the taker of a census1 that you and your friend are two creatures1 with two distinct cases of a certain sort of fondness to be noted down1 and with each a separate life into which1 as an incident1 some such fondness enters4 ,no2 were a census of true friendship possible1 the census taker should be required to report3 ,here are indeed two friends2 but here is also the ideal and yet1 in some higher sense1 real life of their united personality present1--a life which belongs to neither of them alone1 and which also does not exist merely as a parcel of fragments1 partly in one1 partly in the other of them4 ,it is the life of their common personality4 ,it is a new spiritual person on a higher level4 ,or again1 you are loyal to some such union as a family or a fraternity represents4 ,or you are loyal to your class1 your college1 your community1 your country1 your church4 ,in all these cases1 with endless variety in the details1 your loyalty has for its object each time1 not merely a group of detached personalities1 but some ideally significant common life2 an union of many in one2 a community which also has the value of a person1 and which1 nevertheless1 cannot be found distributed about in a collection of fragments found inside the detached lives of the individual members of the family1 the club1 the class1 the college1 the country1 the church4 ,if this common life to which you are loyal is a reality1 then the real human world does not consist of separate creatures alone1 of the mere persons who flock in the streets and who live in the different houses4 ,the human world1 if the loyal are right1 contains personality that is not merely shut up within the skin1 now of this1 now of that1 human creature4 ,it contains personalities that no organism confines within its bounds2 that no single life1 that no crowd of detached lives1 comprises4 ,yet this higher sort of common personality1 if the loyal are right1 is as real as we separate creatures are real4 ,it is no abstraction4 ,it lives4 ,it loves1 and we love it4 ,we enter into it4 ,it is ours1 and we belong to it4 ,it works through us1 the fellow servants of the common cause4 ,yet we get our worth through it1--the goal of our whole moral endeavor4 ,for those who are not merely loyal1 but also enlightened1 loyalty1 never losing the definiteness and the concreteness of its devotion to some near and directly fascinating cause1 sees itself to be in actual spiritual unity with the common cause of all the loyal1 whoever they are4 ,the great cause for all the loyal is in reality the cause of the spread and the furtherance of the cause of the universal loyalty of all mankind3 a cause which nobody can serve except by choosing his own nearer and more appreciated cause--the private cause which is directly his own--his family1 his community1 his friendship1 his calling1 and the calling of those who serve with him4 ,yet such personal service--your special life cause1 your task1 your vocation--is your way of furthering the ends of universal humanity4 ,and if you are enlightened1 you know this fact4 ,through your loyalty you1 then1 know yourself to be kin to all the loyal4 ,you hereupon conceive the loyal as one brotherhood1 one invisible church for which and in which you live4 ,the spirit dwells in this invisible church1--the holy spirit that wills the unity of all in fidelity and in service4 ,hidden from you by all the natural estrangements of the present life1 this common life of all the loyal1 this cause which is the one cause of all the loyal1 is that for which you live4 ,in spirit you are really sundered from none of those who themselves live in the spirit4 ,all this1 ,i say1 is what it is the faith of all the loyal to regard as the real life in which we live and move and have our being1 precisely in so far as men come to understand what loyalty is4 ,thus1 then1 in general1 to be loyal is to believe that there are real causes4 ,and to be universally loyal is to believe that the one cause of loyalty itself1 the invisible church of all the loyal1 is a reality2 something as real as we are4 ,but causes are never detached human beings2 nor are causes ever mere crowds1 heaps1 collections1 aggregations of human beings4 ,causes are at once personal 7if by person you mean the ordinary human individual in his natural character7 and super-personal4 ,persons they are1 because only where persons are found can causes be defined4 ,super-personal they are1 because no mere individual human creature1 and no mere pairs or groups or throngs of human beings1 can ever constitute unified causes4 ,you cannot be loyal to a crowd as a crowd4 ,a crowd can shout1 as at a game or a political convention4 ,but only some sort of organized unity of social life can either do the work of an unit or hold the effective loyalty of the enlightened worker who does not merely shout with the throng4 ,and so when you are really loyal to your country1 your country does not mean to you merely the crowd1 the mass of your separate fellow citizens4 ,still less does it mean the mere organs1 or the separate servants of the country1--the custom house1 the ,war ,department1 the ,speaker of the ,house1 or any other office or official4 ,when you sing ,my country1 'tis of thee1 you do not mean1 ,my post-office1 'tis of thee1 nor yet1 ,my fellow citizens1 'tis of you1 just as the creatures who crowd the street and who overfill the railway cars1 that ,i sing4 ,if the poet continues in his own song to celebrate the land1 the rocks and rills1 the woods and templed hills1 he is still speaking only of symbols4 ,what he means is the country as an invisible but1 in his opinion1 perfectly real spiritual unity4 ,general ,nogi1 in a recent ,japanese publication about ,bushido1 expressed his own national ideal beautifully in the words3 ,here the sovereign and the people are of one family and have together endured the joys and sorrows of thousands of years4 ,it is that sort of being whereof one speaks when one expresses true loyalty to the country4 ,the country is the spiritual entity that is none of us and all of us--none of us because it is our unity2 all of us because in it we all find our patriotic unity4 ,such1 then1 is the idea that the loyal have of the real nature of the causes which they serve4 ,i repeat1 ,if the loyal are right1 then the real world contains other beings than mechanisms and individual human and animal minds4 ,it contains spiritual unities which are as real as we are1 but which certainly do not belong to the realm of a mere nature mechanism4 ,does not all this put the problems of our philosophy of life in a new light8 ,but ,i have no doubt that you may at once reply3 ,all this speech about causes is after all merely more or less pleasing metaphor4 ,as a fact1 human beings are just individual natural creatures4 ,they throng and struggle for existence1 and love and hate and enjoy and sorrow and die4 ,these causes are1 after all1 mere dreams1 or at best entities as we have just described4 ,the friends like to talk of being one2 but there are always two or more of them1 and the unity is a pretty phrase4 ,the country is1 in the concrete1 the collection of the countrymen1 with names1 formulas1 songs1 and so on1 attached1 by way of poetical license or of convenient abbreviation or of pretty fable4 ,the poet really meant simply that he was fond of the landscape1 and was not wholly averse to a good many of his countrymen1 and was in any case fond of a good song4 ,loyalty1 like the rest of human life1 is an illusion4 ,nature is real4 ,the unity of the spirit is a fancy4 ,this1 ,i say1 may be your objection4 ,but herewith we indeed stand in the presence of a certain very deep philosophical problem concerning the true definition of what we mean by reality4 ,into this problem ,i have neither time nor wish to enter just now4 ,but upon one matter ,i must1 nevertheless1 stoutly insist4 ,it is a matter so simple1 so significant1 so neglected1 that ,i at once need and fear to mention it to you1--need to mention it1 because it puts our philosophy into a position that quite transforms the significance of that whole modern view of nature upon which ,i have been dwelling since the outset of this lecture2 fear to mention it1 because the fact that it is so commonly neglected shows how hard to be understood it has proved4 ,that disheartening view of the foreign and mechanical nature of the real world which our sciences and our industrial arts have impressed upon the minds of so many of us2 that contempt for superstition2 that denial of the supernatural1 which seems to the typical modern man the beginning of wisdom2--to what is all this view of reality due8 ,to the results1 and1 as ,i believe1 to the really important results1 of the modern study of natural science4 ,but what is the study of natural science8 ,practically considered1 viewed as one of the great moral activities of mankind1 the study of science is a very beautiful and humane expression of a certain exalted form of loyalty4 ,science is1 practically considered1 the outcome of the absolutely devoted labors of countless seekers for natural truth4 ,but how do we human beings get at what we call natural truth8 ,by observation--so men say--and by experience4 ,but by whose experience8 ,by the united1 by the synthesized1 by the revised1 corrected1 rationally criticized1 above all by the common1 experience of many individuals4 ,the possibility of science rests upon the fact that human experience may be progressively treated so as to become more and more an unity4 ,the detached individual records the transit of a star1 observes a precipitate in a test tube1 stains a preparation and examines it under a microscope1 collects in the field1 takes notes in a hospital--and loyally contributes his little fragment of a report to the ideally unified and constantly growing totality called scientific human experience4 ,in doing this he employs his memory1 and so conceives his own personal life as an unity4 ,but equally he aims--and herein consists his scientific loyalty--to bring his personal experience into unity with the whole course of human experience in so far as it bears upon his own science4 ,the collection of mere data is never enough4 ,it is in the unity of their interpretation that the achievements of science lie4 ,this unity is conceived in the form of scientific theories2 is verified by the comparative and critical conduct of experiments4 ,but in all such work how manifold are the presuppositions which we make when we attempt such unification6 ,here is no place to enumerate these presuppositions4 ,some of them you find discussed in the textbooks of the logic of science4 ,some of them are instinctive1 and almost never get discussed at all4 ,but it is here enough to say that we all presuppose that human experience has1 or can by the loyal efforts of truth seekers be made to possess1 a real unity1 superior in its nature and significance to any detached observer's experience1 more genuinely real than is the mere collection of the experiences of any set of detached observers1 however large4 ,the student of natural science is loyal to the cause of the enlargement of this organized and criticized realm of the common human experience4 ,unless this unity of human experience is a genuine reality1 unless all the workers are living a really common life1 unless each man is1 potentially at least1 in a live spiritual unity with his fellows1 science itself is a mere metaphor1 its truth is an illusion1 its results are myths4 ,for science is conceived as true only by conceiving the experiences of countless observers as the sharing of a common realm of experience4 ,if1 as we all believe1 the natural sciences do throw a real1 if indeed an inadequate1 light upon the nature of things1 then they do so because no one man's experience is disconnected from the real whole of human experience4 ,they do so because the cause to which the loyal study of science is devoted1 the cause of the enlargement of human experience1 is a cause that has a supernatural1 or1 as ,professor ,mnsterberg loves to say1 an over-individual1 type of reality4 ,mankind is not a mere collection of detached individuals1 or man could possess no knowledge of any unity of scientific truth4 ,if men are really only many1 and if they have no such unity of conscious experience as loyalty everywhere presupposes1 then the cause of science also is a vain illusion1 and we have no unified knowledge of nature1 only various private fancies about nature4 ,if we know1 however ill1 nature's mechanism1 we do so because human experience is not merely a collection of detached observations1 but forms an actual spiritual unity1 whose type is not that of a mechanism1 whose connections are ideally significant1 whose constitution is essentially that which the ideal of unified truth requires4 ,so1 then1 ,i insist1 the dilemma is upon our hands4 ,either the sciences constitute a progressive1 if imperfect1 insight into real truth--and then the cause of the unity of human experience is a real cause that really can be served exactly as the lover means to be loyal to his friendship and the patriot to his country2 and then also human life really possesses such unity as the loyal presuppose--or else none of this is so4 ,but then loyalty and science alike deal with metaphors and with myths4 ,in the first case the spiritual unity of the life that we lead is essentially vindicated4 ,causes such as the loyal serve are real4 ,the cause of science also is real4 ,but in that case an essentially spiritual realm1 that of the rational unity of human experience1 is real2 and possesses a grade both of reality and of worth which is superior to the grade of reality that the phenomena of nature's mechanism exhibit to us4 ,in the other case the sciences whose results are supposed to be discouraging and unspiritual vanish1 with all their facts1 into the realm of fable1 together with the world that all the loyal1 including the faithful followers of the sciences1 believe to be real4 ,i have here no time to discuss the paradoxes of a totally skeptical philosophy4 ,it is enough to say that such a total skepticism is1 indeed1 self-refuting4 ,the only rational view of life depends upon maintaining that what the loyal always regard as a reality1 namely1 their cause1 is1 indeed1 despite all special illusions of this or of that form of imperfect loyalty1 essentially a type of reality which rationally survives all criticisms and underlies all doubts4 ,they reckon ill who leave me out2 ,when me thy fly1 ,i am the wings4 ,this is what the genuine object of loyalty1 the unity of the spiritual life1 always says to us when we examine it in the right spirit4 ,but the one source of our deepest insight into this unity of the spirit which underlies all the varieties1 and which leads us upward to itself past all the sunderings and doubts of existence1 is the loyal spirit itself4 ,loyalty asserts3 ,my cause is real4 ,i know that my cause liveth4 ,but the cause1 however imperfectly interpreted1 is always some sort of unity of the spiritual life in which we learn to share whenever we begin to be loyal4 ,the more we grow in loyalty and in insight into the meaning of our loyalty1 the more we learn to think of some vast range of the unity of spiritual life as the reality to which all the other realities accessible to us are in one way or another subordinate1 so that they express this unity1 and show more or less what it means4 ,i believe that a sound critical philosophy justifies the view that the loyal1 precisely in so far as they view their cause as real1 as a personal1 but also as an over-individual1 realm of genuine spiritual life1 are comprehending1 as far as they go1 the deepest nature of things4 ,religion1 in its higher sense1 always involves a practical relation to a spiritual world which1 in its significance1 in its inclusiveness1 in its unity1 and in its close and comforting touch with our most intense personal concerns1 fulfils in a supreme degree the requirements which loyalty makes when it seeks for a worthy cause4 ,one may have a true religion without knowing the reason why it is true4 ,one may also have false religious beliefs4 ,but in any case the affiliation of the spirit of the higher religion with the spirit of loyalty has been manifest1 ,i hope1 from the outset of this discussion of loyalty4 ,by religious insight one may very properly mean any significant and true view of an object of religious devotion which can be obtained by any reasonable means4 ,in speaking of loyalty and insight ,i have also given an indication of that source of religious insight which ,i believe to be1 after all1 the surest1 the most accessible1 the most universal1 and1 in its deepest essence1 the most rational4 ,the problem of the modern philosophy of life is1 we have said1 the problem of keeping the spirit of religion1 without falling a prey to superstition4 ,at the outset of this lecture ,i told briefly why1 in the modern world1 we aim to avoid superstition4 ,the true reason for this aim you now see better than at first ,i could state that reason4 ,we have learned1 and wisely learned1 that the great cause of the study of nature by scientific methods is one of the principal special causes to which man can be devoted2 for nothing serves more than the pursuit of the sciences serves to bind into unity the actual work of human civilization4 ,to this cause of scientific study we have all learned to be1 according to our lights1 loyal4 ,but the study of science makes us averse to the belief in magic arts1 in supernatural interferences1 in special providences4 ,the scientific spirit turns from the legends and the superstitions that in the past have sundered men1 have inflamed the religious wars1 have filled the realm of imagination with good and evil spirits4 ,turns from these--to what8 ,to a belief in a merely mechanical reality8 ,to a doctrine that the real world is foreign to our ideals8 ,to an assurance that life is vain8 ,no2 so to view the mission of the study of science is to view that mission falsely4 ,the one great lesson of the triumph of science is the lesson of the vast significance of loyalty to the cause of science4 ,and this loyalty depends upon acknowledging the reality of a common1 a rational1 a significant unity of human experience1 a genuine cause which men can serve4 ,when the sciences teach us to get rid of superstition1 they do this by virtue of a loyalty to the pursuit of truth which is1 as a fact1 loyalty to the cause of the spiritual unity of mankind3 an unity which the students of science conceive in terms of an unity of our human experience of nature1 but which1 after all1 they more or less unconsciously interpret just as all the other loyal souls interpret their causes2 namely1 as a genuine living reality1 a life superior in type to the individual lives which we lead--worthy of devoted service1 significant1 and not merely an incidental play of a natural mechanism4 ,this unity of human experience reveals to us nature's mechanisms1 but is itself no part of the mechanism which it observes4 ,if1 now1 we do as our general philosophy of loyalty would require3 if we take all our loyalties1 in whatever forms they may appear1 as more or less enlightened but always practical revelations that there is an unity of spiritual life which is above our present natural level1 which is worthy of our devotion1 which can give sense to life1 and which consists of facts that are just as genuinely real as are the facts and the laws of outer nature--well1 can we not thus see our way towards a religious insight which is free from superstition1 which is indifferent to magic and to miracle1 which accepts all the laws of nature just in so far as they are indeed known1 but which nevertheless stoutly insists3 ,this world is no mere mechanism2 it is full of a spiritual unity that transcends mere nature8 ,i believe that we can do this4 ,i believe that what ,i have merely hinted to you is capable of a much richer development than ,i have here given to these thoughts4 ,i believe1 in brief1 that in our loyalties we find our best sources of a genuinely religious insight4 ,men have often said1 ,the true source of religious insight is revelation2 for these matters are above the powers of human reason4 ,now1 ,i am not here to discuss or to criticize anybody's type of revelation4 ,but this ,i know1 and this the believers in various supposed revelations have often admitted--that unless the aid of some interior spiritual insight comes to be added to the merely external revelation1 one can be left in doubt by all possible signs and wonders whereby the revelation undertakes to give us convincing external evidence4 ,religious faith1 indeed1 relates to that which is above us1 but it must arise from that which is within us4 ,and any faith which has indeed a worthy religious object is either merely a mystic ecstasy1 which must then be judged1 if at all1 only by its fruits1 or else it is a loyalty1 which never exists without seeking to bear fruit in works4 ,now my thesis is that loyalty is essentially adoration with service1 and that there is no true adoration without practical loyalty4 ,if ,i am right1 all of the loyal are grasping in their own ways1 and according to their lights1 some form and degree of religious truth4 ,they have won religious insight2 for they view something1 at least1 of the genuine spiritual world in its real unity1 and they devote themselves to that unity1 to its enlargement and enrichment4 ,and therefore they approach more and more to the comprehension of that true spiritual life whereof1 as ,i suppose1 the real world essentially consists4 ,therefore ,i find in the growth of the spirit of loyalty which normally belongs to any loyal life the deepset source of a genuinely significant religious insight which belongs to just that individual in just his stage of development4 ,in brief3 ,be loyal2 grow in loyalty4 ,therein lies the source of a religious insight free from superstition4 ,therein also lies the solution of the problems of the philosophy of life4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #gg3 ,commencement address delivered at ,simmons ,college1 ,boston4 ,published in ,william ,james and ,other ,essays1 copyright1 #aiaa4 ,printed here by permission of ,the ,macmillan ,company4 ,,poetry ,,for ,,poetry',s ,,sake#gh ,a4,c4 ,,bradley ,the words ,poetry for poetry's sake recall the famous phrase ,art for ,art4 ,it is far from my purpose to examine the possible meanings of that phrase1 or all the questions it involves4 ,i propose to state briefly what ,i understand by ,poetry for poetry's sake1 and then1 after guarding against one or two misapprehensions of the formula1 to consider more fully a single problem connected with it4 ,and ,i must premise1 without attempting to justify them1 certain explanations4 ,we are to consider poetry in its essence1 and apart from the flaws which in most poems accompany their poetry4 ,we are to include in the idea of poetry the metrical form1 and not to regard this as a mere accident or a mere vehicle4 ,and1 finally1 poetry being poems1 we are to think of a poem as it actually exists2 and1 without aiming here at accuracy1 we may say that an actual poem is the succession of experiences--sounds1 images1 thoughts1 emotions--through which we pass when we are reading as poetically as we can4 ,of course this imaginative experience--if ,i may use the phrase for brevity--differs with every reader and every time of reading3 a poem exists in innumerable degrees4 ,but that insurmountable fact lies in the nature of things and does not concern us now4 ,what then does the formula ,poetry for poetry's sake tell us about this experience8 ,it says1 as ,i understand it1 these things4 ,first1 this experience is an end in itself1 is worth having on its own account1 has an intrinsic value4 ,next1 its poetic value is this intrinsic worth alone4 ,poetry may have also an ulterior value as a means to culture or religion2 because it conveys instruction1 or softens the passions1 or furthers a good cause2 because it brings the poet fame or money or a quiet conscience4 ,so much the better3 let it be valued for these reasons too4 ,but its ulterior worth neither is nor can directly determine its poetic worth as a satisfying imaginative experience2 and this is to be judged entirely from within4 ,and to these two positions the formula would add1 though not of necessity1 a third4 ,the consideration of ulterior ends1 whether by the poet in the act of composing or by the reader in the act of experiencing1 tends to lower poetic value4 ,it does so because it tends to change the nature of poetry by taking it out of its own atmosphere4 ,for its nature is to be not a part1 nor yet a copy1 of the real world 7as we commonly understand that phrase71 but to be a world by itself1 independent1 complete1 autonomous2 and to possess it fully you must enter that world1 conform to its laws1 and ignore for the time the beliefs1 aims1 and particular conditions which belong to you in the other world of reality4 ,of the more serious misapprehensions to which these statements may give rise ,i will glance only at one or two4 ,the offensive consequences often drawn from the formula ,art for ,art will be found to attach not to the doctrine that ,art is an end in itself1 but to the doctrine that ,art is the whole or supreme end of human life4 ,and as this latter doctrine1 which seems to me absurd1 is in any case quite different from the former1 its consequences fall outside my subject4 ,the formula ,poetry is an end in itself has nothing to say on the various questions of moral judgment which arise from the fact that poetry has its place in a many-sided life4 ,for anything it says1 the intrinsic value of poetry might be so small1 and its ulterior effects so mischievous1 that it had better not exist4 ,the formula only tells us that we must not place in antithesis poetry and human good1 for poetry is one kind of human good2 and that we must not determine the intrinsic value of this kind of good by direct reference to another4 ,if we do1 we shall find ourselves maintaining what we did not expect4 ,if poetic value lies in the stimulation of religious feelings1 ,lead kindly ,light is no better poem than many a tasteless version of a ,psalm3 if in the excitement of patriotism1 why is ,scots1 wha hae superior to ,we don't want to fight8 if in the mitigation of the passions1 the ,odes of ,sappho will win but little praise3 if in instruction1 ,armstrong's ,art of preserving ,health should win much4 ,again1 our formula may be accused of cutting poetry away from its connection with life4 ,and this accusation raises so huge a problem that ,i must ask leave to be dogmatic as well as brief4 ,there is plenty of connection between life and poetry1 but it is1 so to say1 a connection underground4 ,the two may be called different forms of the same thing3 one of them having 7in the usual sense7 reality1 but seldom fully satisfying imagination2 while the other offers something which satisfies imagination but has not full reality4 ,they are parallel developments which nowhere meet1 or1 if ,i may use loosely a word which will be serviceable later1 they are analogues4 ,hence we understand one by help of the other1 and even1 in a sense1 care for one because of the other2 but hence also1 poetry neither is life1 nor1 strictly speaking1 a copy of it4 ,they differ not only because one has more mass and the other a more perfect shape1 but because they have different kinds of existence4 ,the one touches us as beings occupying a given position in space and time1 and having feelings1 desires1 and purposes due to that position3 it appeals to imagination1 but appeals to much besides4 ,what meets us in poetry has not a position in the same series of time and space1 or1 if it has or had such a position1 it is taken apart from much that belonged to it there2 and therefore it makes no direct appeal to those feelings1 desires1 and purposes1 but speaks only to contemplative imagination--imagination the reverse of empty or emotionless1 imagination saturated with the results of real experience1 but still contemplative4 ,thus1 no doubt1 one main reason why poetry has poetic value for us is that it presents to us in its own way something which we meet in another form in nature or life2 and yet the test of its poetic value for us lies simply in the question whether it satisfies our imagination2 the rest of us1 our knowledge or conscience1 for example1 judging it only so far as they appear transmuted in our imagination4 ,so also ,shakespeare's knowledge or his moral insight1 ,milton's greatness of soul1 ,shelley's hate of hate and love of love1 and that desire to help men or make them happier which may have influenced a poet in hours of meditation--all these have1 as such1 no poetical worth3 they have that worth only when1 passing through the unity of the poet's being1 they reappear as qualities of imagination1 and then are indeed mighty powers in the world of poetry4 ,i come to a third misapprehension1 and so to my main subject4 ,this formula1 it is said1 empties poetry of its meaning3 it is really a doctrine of form for form's sake4 ,it is of no consequence what a poet says1 so long as he says the thing well4 ,the what is poetically indifferent3 it is the how that counts4 ,matter1 subject1 content1 substance1 determines nothing2 there is no subject with which poetry may not deal3 the form1 the treatment1 is everything4 ,nay1 more3 not only is the matter indifferent1 but it is the secret of ,art to 'eradicate the matter by means of the form1'--phrases and statements like these meet us everywhere in current criticism of literature and the other arts4 ,they are the stock-in-trade of writers who understand of them little more than the fact that somehow or other they are not bourgeois4 ,but we find them also seriously used by writers whom we must respect1 whether they are anonymous or not2 something like one or another of them might be quoted1 for example1 from ,professor ,saintsbury1 the late ,r4,a4,m4 ,stevenson1 ,schiller1 ,goethe himself2 and they are the watchwords of a school in the one country where ,aesthetics has flourished4 ,they come1 as a rule1 from men who either practise one of the arts1 or1 from study of it1 are interested in its methods4 ,the general reader--a being so general that ,i may say what ,i will of him--is outraged by them4 ,he feels that he is being robbed of almost all that he cares for in a work of art4 ,you are asking me1 he says1 to look at the ,dresden ,madonna as if it were a ,persian rug4 ,you are telling me that the poetic value of ,hamlet lies solely in its style and versification1 and that my interest in the man and his fate is only an intellectual or moral interest4 ,you allege that1 if ,i want to enjoy the poetry of ,crossing the ,bar1 ,i must not mind what ,tennyson says there1 but must consider solely his way of saying it4 ,but in that case ,i can care no more for a poem than ,i do for a set of nonsense verses2 and ,i do not believe that the authors of ,hamlet and ,crossing the ,bar regarded their poems thus4 ,these antitheses of subject1 matter1 substance on the one side1 form1 treatment1 handling on the other1 are the field through which ,i especially want1 in this lecture1 to indicate a way4 ,it is a field of battle2 and the battle is waged for no trivial cause2 but the cries of the combatants are terribly ambiguous4 ,those phrases of the so-called formalist may each mean five or six different things4 ,taken in one sense they seem to me chiefly true2 taken as the general reader not unnaturally takes them1 they seem to me false1 and mischievous4 ,it would be absurd to pretend that ,i can end in a few minutes a controversy which concerns the ultimate nature of ,art1 and leads perhaps to problems not yet soluble2 but we can at least draw some plain distinctions which1 in this controversy1 are too often confused4 ,in the first place1 then1 let us take subject in one particular sense2 let us understand by it that which we have in view when1 looking at the title of an unread poem1 we say that the poet has chosen this or that for his subject4 ,the subject in this sense1 so far as ,i can discover1 is generally something real or imaginary1 as it exists in the minds of fairly cultivated people4 ,the subject of ,paradise ,lost would be the story of the ,fall as that story exists in the general imagination of a ,bible-reading people4 ,the subject of ,shelley's stanzas ,to a ,skylark would be the ideas which arise in the mind of an educated person when1 without knowing the poem1 he hears the word skylark4 ,if the title of a poem conveys little or nothing to us1 the subject appears to be either what we should gather by investigating the title in a dictionary or other book of the kind1 or else such a brief suggestion as might be offered by a person who had read the poem1 and who said1 for example1 that the subject of ,the ,ancient ,mariner was a sailor who killed an albatross and suffered for his deed4 ,now the subject1 in this sense 7and ,i intend to use the word in no other71 is not1 as such1 inside the poem1 but outside it4 ,the contents of the stanzas ,to a ,skylark are not the ideas suggested by the word skylark to the average man2 they belong to ,shelley just as much as the language does4 ,the subject1 therefore1 is not the matter of the poem at all2 and its opposite is not the form of the poem1 but the whole poem4 ,the subject is one thing2 the poem1 matter and form alike1 another thing4 ,this being so1 it is surely obvious that the poetic value cannot lie in that subject1 but lies entirely in its opposite1 the poem4 ,how can the subject determine the value when on one and the same subject poems may be written of all degrees of merit and demerit2 or when a perfect poem may be composed on a subject so slight as a pet sparrow1 and1 if ,macaulay may be trusted1 a nearly worthless poem on a subject so stupendous as the omnipresence of the ,deity8 ,the formalist is here perfectly right4 ,nor is he insisting on something unimportant4 ,he is fighting against our tendency to take the work of art as a mere copy or reminder of something already in our heads1 or at the best as a suggestion of some idea as little removed as possible from the familiar4 ,the sightseer who promenades a picture-gallery1 remarking that this portrait is so like his cousin1 or that landscape the very image of his birthplace1 or who1 after satisfying himself that one picture is about ,elijah1 passes on rejoicing to discover the subject1 and nothing but the subject1 of the next--what is he but an extreme example of this tendency8 ,well1 but the very same tendency vitiates much of our criticism1 much criticism of ,shakespeare1 for example1 which1 with all its cleverness and partial truth1 still shows that the critic never passed from his own mind into ,shakespeare's2 and it may be traced even in so fine a critic as ,coleridge1 as when he dwarfs the sublime struggle of ,hamlet into the image of his own unhappy weakness4 ,hazlitt by no means escaped its influence4 ,only the third of that great trio1 ,lamb1 appears almost always to have rendered the conception of the composer4 ,again1 it is surely true that we cannot determine beforehand what subjects are fit for ,art1 or name any subject on which a good poem might not possibly be written4 ,to divide subjects into two groups1 the beautiful or elevating1 and the ugly or vicious1 and to judge poems according as their subjects belong to one of these groups or the other1 is to fall into the same pit1 to confuse with our pre-conceptions the meaning of the poet4 ,what the thing is in the poem he is to be judged by1 not by the thing as it was before he touched it2 and how can we venture to say beforehand that he cannot make a true poem out of something which to us was merely alluring or dull or revolting8 ,the question whether1 having done so1 he ought to publish his poem2 whether the thing in the poet's work will not be still confused by the incompetent ,puritan or the incompetent sensualist with the thing in his mind1 does not touch this point2 it is a further question1 one of ethics1 not of art4 ,no doubt the upholders of ,art for art's sake will generally be in favour of the courageous course1 of refusing to sacrifice the better or stronger part of the public to the weaker or worse2 but their maxim in no way binds them to this view4 ,rossetti suppressed one of the best of his sonnets1 a sonnet chosen for admiration by ,tennyson1 himself extremely sensitive about the moral effect of poetry2 suppressed it1 ,i believe1 because it was called fleshly4 ,one may regret ,rossetti's judgment and at the same time respect his scrupulousness2 but in any case he judged in his capacity of citizen1 not in his capacity of artist4 ,so far then the formalist appears to be right4 ,but he goes too far1 ,i think1 if he maintains that the subject is indifferent and that all subjects are the same to poetry4 ,and he does not prove his point by observing that a good poem might be written on a pin's head1 and a bad one on the ,fall of ,man4 ,that truth shows that the subject settles nothing1 but not that it counts for nothing4 ,the ,fall of ,man is really a more favourable subject than a pin's head4 ,the ,fall of ,man1 that is to say1 offers opportunities of poetic effects wider in range and more penetrating in appeal4 ,and the fact is that such a subject1 as it exists in the general imagination1 has some aesthetic value before the poet touches it4 ,it is1 as you may choose to call it1 an inchoate poem or the dbris of a poem4 ,it is not an abstract idea or a bare isolated fact1 but an assemblage of figures1 scenes1 actions1 and events1 which already appeal to emotional imagination2 and it is already in some degree organized and formed4 ,in spite of this a bad poet would make a bad poem on it2 but then we should say he was unworthy of the subject4 ,and we should not say this if he wrote a bad poem on a pin's head4 ,conversely1 a good poem on a pin's head would almost certainly transform its subject far more than a good poem on the ,fall of ,man4 ,it might revolutionize its subject so completely that we should say1 ,the subject may be a pin's head1 but the substance of the poem has very little to do with it4 ,this brings us to another and a different antithesis4 ,those figures1 scenes1 events1 that form part of the subject called the ,fall of ,man1 are not the substance of ,paradise ,lost2 but in ,paradise ,lost there are figures1 scenes1 and events resembling them in some degree4 ,these1 with much more of the same kind1 may be described as its substance1 and may then be contrasted with the measured language of the poem1 which will be called its form4 ,subject is the opposite not of form but of the whole poem4 ,substance is within the poem1 and its opposite1 form1 is also within the poem4 ,i am not criticizing this antithesis at present1 but evidently it is quite different from the other4 ,it is practically the distinction used in the old-fashioned criticism of epic and drama1 and it flows down1 not unsullied1 from ,aristotle4 ,addison1 for example1 in examining ,paradise ,lost considers in order the fable1 the characters1 and the sentiments2 these will be the substance3 then he considers the language1 that is1 the style and numbers2 this will be the form4 ,in like manner1 the substance or meaning of a lyric may be distinguished from the form4 ,now ,i believe it will be found that a large part of the controversy we are dealing with arises from a confusion between these two distinctions of substance and form1 and of subject and poem4 ,the extreme formalist lays his whole weight on the form because he thinks its opposite is the mere subject4 ,the general reader is angry1 but makes the same mistake1 and gives to the subject praises that rightly belong to the substance4 ,i will read an example of what ,i mean4 ,i can only explain the following words of a good critic by supposing that for the moment he has fallen into this confusion3 ,the mere matter of all poetry--to wit1 the appearances of nature and the thoughts and feelings of men--being unalterable1 it follows that the difference between poet and poet will depend upon the manner of each in applying language1 metre1 rhyme1 cadence1 and what not1 to this invariable material4 ,what has become here of the substance of ,paradise ,lost--the story1 scenery1 characters1 sentiments as they are in the poem8 ,they have vanished clean away4 ,nothing is left but the form on one side1 and on the other not even the subject1 but a supposed invariable material1 the appearances of nature and the thoughts and feelings of men4 ,is it surprising that the whole value should then be found in the form8 ,so far we have assumed that this antithesis of substance and form is valid1 and that it always has one meaning4 ,in reality it has several1 but we will leave it in its present shape1 and pass to the question of its validity4 ,and this question we are compelled to raise1 because we have to deal with the two contentions that the poetic value lies wholly or mainly in the substance1 and that it lies wholly or mainly in the form4 ,now these contentions1 whether false or true1 may seem at least to be clear2 but we shall find1 ,i think1 that they are both of them false1 or both of them nonsense3 false if they concern anything outside the poem1 nonsense if they apply to something in it4 ,for what do they evidently imply8 ,they imply that there are in a poem two parts1 factors1 or components1 a substance and a form2 and that you can conceive them distinctly and separately1 so that when you are speaking of the one you are not speaking of the other4 ,otherwise how can you ask the question1 ,in which of them does the value lie8 ,but really in a poem1 apart from defects1 there are no such factors or components2 and therefore it is strictly nonsense to ask in which of them the value lies4 ,and on the other hand1 if the substance and the form referred to are not in the poem1 then both the contentions are false1 for its poetic value lies in itself4 ,what ,i mean is neither new nor mysterious2 and it will be clear1 ,i believe1 to any one who reads poetry poetically and who closely examines his experience4 ,when you are reading a poem1 ,i would ask--not analysing it1 and much less criticizing it1 but allowing it1 as it proceeds1 to make its full impression on you through the exertion of your recreating imagination--do you then apprehend and enjoy as one thing a certain meaning or substance1 and as another thing certain articulate sounds1 and do you somehow compound these two8 ,surely you do not1 any more than you apprehend apart1 when you see some one smile1 those lines in the face which express a feeling1 and the feeling that the lines express4 ,just as there the lines and their meaning are to you one thing1 not two1 so in poetry the meaning and the sounds are one3 there is1 if ,i may put it so1 a resonant meaning1 or a meaning resonance4 ,if you read the line1 ,the sun is warm1 the sky is clear1 you do not experience separately the image of a warm sun and clear sky1 on the one side1 and certain unintelligible rhythmical sounds on the other2 nor yet do you experience them together1 side by side2 but you experience the one in the other4 ,and in like manner when you are really reading ,hamlet1 the action and the characters are not something which you conceive apart from the words2 you apprehend them from point to point in the words1 and the words as expressions of them4 ,afterwards1 no doubt1 when you are out of the poetic experience but remember it1 you may by analysis decompose this unity1 and attend to a substance more or less isolated1 and a form more or less isolated4 ,but these are things in your analytic head1 not in the poem1 which is poetic experience4 ,and if you want to have the poem again1 you cannot find it by adding together these two products of decomposition2 you can only find it by passing back into poetic experience4 ,and then what you recover is no aggregate of factors1 it is a unity in which you can no more separate a substance and a form than you can separate living blood and the life in the blood4 ,this unity has1 if you like1 various aspects or sides1 but they are not factors or parts2 if you try to examine one1 you find it is also the other4 ,call them substance and form if you please1 but these are not the reciprocally exclusive substance and form to which the two contentions must refer4 ,they do not agree1 for they are not apart3 they are one thing from different points of view1 and in that sense identical4 ,and this identity of content and form1 you will say1 is no accident2 it is of the essence of poetry in so far as it is poetry1 and of all art in so far as it is art4 ,just as there is in music not sound on one side and a meaning on the other1 but expressive sound1 and if you ask what is the meaning you can only answer by pointing to the sounds2 just as in painting there is not a meaning plus paint1 but a meaning in paint1 or significant paint1 and no man can really express the meaning in any other way than in paint and in this paint2 so in a poem the true content and the true form neither exist nor can be imagined apart4 ,when then you are asked whether the value of a poem lies in a substance got by decomposing the poem1 and present1 as such1 only in reflective analysis1 or whether the value lies in a form arrived at and existing in the same way1 you will answer1 ,it lies neither in one1 nor in the other1 nor in any addition of them1 but in the poem1 where they are not4 ,we have then1 first1 an antithesis of subject and poem4 ,this is clear and valid2 and the question in which of them does the value lie is intelligible2 and its answer is1 ,in the poem4 ,we have next a distinction of substance and form4 ,if the substance means ideas1 images1 and the like taken alone1 and the form means the measured language taken by itself1 this is a possible distinction1 but it is a distinction of things not in the poem1 and the value lies in neither of them4 ,if substance and form mean anything in the poem1 then each is involved in the other1 and the question in which of them the value lies has no sense4 ,no doubt you may say1 speaking loosely1 that in this poet or poem the aspect of substance is the more noticeable1 and in that the aspect of form2 and you may pursue interesting discussions on this basis1 though no principle or ultimate question of value is touched by them4 ,and apart from that question1 of course1 ,i am not denying the usefulness and necessity of the distinction4 ,we cannot dispense with it4 ,to consider separately the action or the characters of a play1 and separately its style or versification1 is both legitimate and valuable1 so long as we remember what we are doing4 ,but the true critic in speaking of these apart does not really think of them apart2 the whole1 the poetic experience1 of which they are but aspects1 is always in his mind2 and he is always aiming at a richer1 truer1 more intense repetition of that experience4 ,on the other hand1 when the question of principle1 of poetic value1 is raised1 these aspects must fall apart into components1 separately conceivable2 and then there arise two heresies1 equally false1 that the value lies in one of two things1 both of which are outside the poem1 and therefore where its value cannot lie4 ,on the heresy of the separable substance a few additional words will suffice4 ,this heresy is seldom formulated1 but perhaps some unconscious holder of it may object3 ,surely the action and the characters of ,hamlet are in the play2 and surely ,i can retain these1 though ,i have forgotten all the words4 ,i admit that ,i do not possess the whole poem1 but ,i possess a part1 and the most important part4 ,and ,i would answer3 ,if we are not concerned with any question of principle1 ,i accept all that you say except the last words1 which do raise such a question4 ,speaking loosely1 ,i agree that the action and characters1 as you perhaps conceive them1 together with a great deal more1 are in the poem4 ,even then1 however1 you must not claim to possess all of this kind that is in the poem2 for in forgetting the words you must have lost innumerable details of the action and the characters4 ,and1 when the question of value is raised1 ,i must insist that the action and characters1 as you conceive them1 are not in ,hamlet at all4 ,if they are1 point them out4 ,you cannot do it4 ,what you find at any moment of that succession of experiences called ,hamlet is words4 ,in these words1 to speak loosely again1 the action and characters 7more of them than you can conceive apart7 are focussed2 but your experience is not a combination of them1 as ideas1 on the one side1 with certain sounds on the other2 it is an experience of something in which the two are indissolubly fused4 ,if you deny this1 to be sure ,i can make no answer1 or can only answer that ,i have reason to believe that you cannot read poetically1 or else are misinterpreting your experience4 ,but if you do not deny this1 then you will admit that the action and characters of the poem1 as you separately imagine them1 are no part of it1 but a product of it in your reflective imagination1 a faint analogue of one aspect of it taken in detachment from the whole4 ,well1 ,i do not dispute1 ,i would even insist1 that1 in the case of so long a poem as ,hamlet1 it may be necessary from time to time to interrupt the poetic experience1 in order to enrich it by forming such a product and dwelling on it4 ,nor1 in a wide sense of 'poetic1' do ,i question the poetic value of this product1 as you think of it apart from the poem4 ,it resembles our recollections of the heroes of history or legend1 who move about in our imaginations1 'forms more real than living man1' and are worth much to us though we do not remember anything they said4 ,our ideas and images of the 'substance' of a poem have this poetic value1 and more1 if they are at all adequate4 ,but they cannot determine the poetic value of the poem1 for 7not to speak of the competing claims of the 'form'7 nothing that is outside the poem can do that1 and they1 as such1 are outside it4 ,let us turn to the so-called form--style and versification4 ,there is no such thing as mere form in poetry4 ,all form is expression4 ,style may have indeed a certain aesthetic worth in partial abstraction from the particular matter it conveys1 as in a well-built sentence you may take pleasure in the build almost apart from the meaning4 ,even so style is expressive--presents to sense1 for example1 the order1 ease1 and rapidity with which ideas move in the writer's mind--but it is not expressive of the meaning of that particular sentence4 ,and it is possible1 interrupting poetic experience1 to decompose it and abstract for comparatively separate consideration this nearly formal element of style4 ,but the aesthetic value of style so taken is not considerable2 you could not read with pleasure for an hour a composition which had no other merit4 ,and in poetic experience you never apprehend this value by itself2 the style is here expressive also of a particular meaning1 or rather is one aspect of that unity whose other aspect is meaning4 ,so that what you apprehend may be called indifferently an expressed meaning or a significant form4 ,perhaps on this point ,i may in ,oxford appeal to authority1 that of ,matthew ,arnold and ,walter ,pater1 the latter at any rate an authority whom the formalist will not despise4 ,what is the gist of ,pater's teaching about style1 if it is not that in the end the one virtue of style is truth or adequacy2 that the word1 phrase1 sentence1 should express perfectly the writer's perception1 feeling1 image1 or thought2 so that1 as we read a descriptive phrase of ,keats's1 we exclaim1 ,that is the thing itself2 so that1 to quote ,arnold1 the words are symbols equivalent with the thing symbolized1 or1 in our technical language1 a form identical with its content8 ,hence in true poetry it is1 in strictness1 impossible to express the meaning in any but its own words1 or to change the words without changing the meaning4 ,a translation of such poetry is not really the old meaning in a fresh dress2 it is a new product1 something like the poem1 though1 if one chooses to say so1 more like it in the aspect of meaning than in the aspect of form4 ,no one who understands poetry1 it seems to me1 would dispute this1 were it not that1 falling away from his experience1 or misled by theory1 he takes the word meaning in a sense almost ludicrously inapplicable to poetry4 ,people say1 for instance1 steed and horse have the same meaning2 and in bad poetry they have1 but not in poetry that is poetry4 ,bring forth the horse6 ,the horse was brought3 ,in truth he was a noble steed6 says ,byron in ,mazeppa4 ,if the two words mean the same here1 transpose them3 ,bring forth the steed6 ,the steed was brought3 ,in truth he was a noble horse6 and ask again if they mean the same4 ,or let me take a line certainly very free from poetic diction3 ,to be or not to be1 that is the question4 ,you may say that this means the same as ,what is just now occupying my attention is the comparative disadvantages of continuing to live or putting an end to myself4 ,and for practical purposes--the purpose1 for example1 of a coroner--it does4 ,but as the second version altogether misrepresents the speaker at that moment of his existence1 while the first does represent him1 how can they for any but a practical or logical purpose be said to have the same sense8 ,hamlet was well able to unpack his heart with words1 but he will not unpack it with our paraphrases4 ,these considerations apply equally to versification4 ,if ,i take the famous line which describes how the souls of the dead stood waiting by the river1 imploring a passage from ,charon3 ,tendebantque manus ripae ulterioris amore1 and if ,i translate it1 and were stretching forth their hands in longing for the further bank1 the charm of the original has fled4 ,why has it fled8 ,partly 7but we have dealt with that7 because ,i have substituted for five words1 and those the words of ,virgil1 twelve words1 and those my own4 ,in some measure because ,i have turned into rhythmless prose a line of verse which1 as mere sound1 has unusual beauty4 ,but much more because in doing so ,i have also changed the meaning of ,virgil's line4 ,what that meaning is ,i cannot say3 ,virgil has said it4 ,but ,i can see this much1 that the translation conveys a far less vivid picture of the outstretched hands and of their remaining outstretched1 and a far less poignant sense of the distance of the shore and the longing of the souls4 ,and it does so partly because this picture and this sense are conveyed not only by the obvious meaning of the words1 but through the long-drawn sound of tendebantque1 through the time occupied by the five syllables and therefore by the idea of ulterioris1 and through the identity of the long sound or in the penultimate syllables of ulterioris amore--all this1 and much more1 apprehended not in this analytical fashion1 nor as added to the beauty of mere sound and to the obvious meaning1 but in unity with them and so as expressive of the poetic meaning of the whole4 ,it is always so in fine poetry4 ,the value of versification1 when it is indissolubly fused with meaning1 can hardly be exaggerated4 ,the gift for feeling it1 even more perhaps than the gift for feeling the value of style1 is the specific gift for poetry1 as distinguished from other arts4 ,but versification1 taken1 as far as possible1 all by itself1 has a very different worth4 ,some aesthetic worth it has2 how much you may experience by reading poetry in a language of which you do not understand a syllable4 ,the pleasure is quite appreciable1 but it is not great2 nor in actual poetic experience do you meet with it1 as such1 at all4 ,for1 ,i repeat1 it is not added to the pleasure of the meaning when you read poetry that you do understand3 by some mystery the music is then the music of the meaning1 and the two are one4 ,however fond of versification you might be1 you would tire very soon of reading verses in ,chinese2 and before long of reading ,virgil and ,dante if you were ignorant of their languages4 ,but take the music as it is in the poem1 and there is a marvellous change4 ,now ,it gives a very echo to the seat ,where ,love is throned2 or carries far into your heart1 almost like music itself1 the sound ,of old1 unhappy1 far-off things ,and battles long ago4 ,what then is to be said of the following sentence of the critic quoted before3 ,but when any one who knows what poetry is reads-- ,our noisy years seem moments in the being ,of the eternal silence1 he sees that1 quite independently of the meaning1 444 there is one note added to the articulate music of the world--a note that never will leave off resounding till the eternal silence itself gulfs it8 ,i must think that the writer is deceiving himself4 ,for ,i could quite understand his enthusiasm1 if it were an enthusiasm for the music of the meaning2 but as for the music1 quite independently of the meaning1 so far as ,i can hear it thus 7and ,i doubt if any one who knows ,english can quite do so71 ,i find it gives some pleasure1 but only a trifling pleasure4 ,and indeed ,i venture to doubt whether1 considered as mere sound1 the words are at all exceptionally beautiful1 as ,virgil's line certainly is4 ,when poetry answers to its idea and is purely or almost purely poetic1 we find the identity of form and content2 and the degree of purity attained may be tested by the degree in which we feel it hopeless to convey the effect of a poem or passage in any form but its own4 ,where the notion of doing so is simply ludicrous1 you have quintessential poetry4 ,but a great part even of good poetry1 especially in long works1 is of a mixed nature2 and so we find in it no more than a partial agreement of a form and substance which remain to some extent distinct4 ,this is so in many passages of ,shakespeare 7the greatest of poets when he chose1 but not always a conscientious poet72 passages where something was wanted for the sake of the plot1 but he did not care about it or was hurried4 ,the conception of the passage is then distinct from the execution1 and neither is inspired4 ,this is so also1 ,i think1 wherever we can truly speak of merely decorative effect4 ,we seem to perceive that the poet had a truth or fact--philosophical1 agricultural1 social--distinctly before him1 and then1 as we say1 clothed it in metrical and coloured language4 ,most argumentative1 didactic1 or satiric poems are partly of this kind2 and in imaginative poems anything which is really a mere conceit is mere decoration4 ,we often deceive ourselves in this matter1 for what we call decoration has often a new and genuinely poetic content of its own2 but wherever there is mere decoration1 we judge the poetry to be not wholly poetic4 ,and so when ,wordsworth inveighed against poetic diction1 though he hurled his darts rather wildly1 what he was rightly aiming at was a phraseology1 not the living body of a new content1 but the mere worn-out body of an old one4 ,in pure poetry it is otherwise4 ,pure poetry is not the decoration of a preconceived and clearly defined matter3 it springs from the creative impulse of a vague imaginative mass pressing for development and definition4 ,if the poet already knew exactly what he meant to say1 why should he write the poem8 ,the poem would in fact already be written4 ,for only its completion can reveal1 even to him1 exactly what he wanted4 ,when he began and while he was at work1 he did not possess his meaning2 it possessed him4 ,it was not a fully formed soul asking for a body3 it was an inchoate soul in the inchoate body of perhaps two or three vague ideas and a few scattered phrases4 ,the growing of this body into its full stature and perfect shape was the same thing as the gradual self-definition of the meaning4 ,and this is the reason why such poems strike us as creations1 not manufactures1 and have the magical effect which mere decoration cannot produce4 ,this is also the reason why1 if we insist on asking for the meaning of such a poem1 we can only be answered ,it means itself4 ,and so at last ,i may explain why ,i have troubled myself3 and you with what may seem an arid controversy about mere words4 ,it is not so4 ,these heresies which would make poetry a compound of two factors--a matter common to it with the merest prose1 plus a poetic form1 as the one heresy says3 a poetical substance plus a negligible form1 as the other says--are not only untrue1 they are injurious to the dignity of poetry4 ,in an age already inclined to shrink from those higher realms where poetry touches religion and philosophy1 the formalist heresy encourages men to taste poetry as they would a fine wine1 which has indeed an aesthetic value1 but a small one4 ,and then the natural man1 finding an empty form1 hurls into it the matter of cheap pathos1 rancid sentiment1 vulgar humour1 bare lust1 ravenous vanity--everything which1 in ,schiller's phrase1 the form should extirpate1 but which no mere form can extirpate4 ,and the other heresy--which is indeed rather a practice than a creed--encourages us in the habit so dear to us of putting our own thoughts or fancies into the place of the poet's creation4 ,what he meant by ,hamlet1 or the ,ode to a ,nightingale1 or ,abt ,vogler1 we say1 is this or that which we knew already2 and so we lose what he had to tell us4 ,but he meant what he said1 and said what he meant4 ,poetry in this matter is not1 as good critics of painting and music often affirm1 different from the other arts2 in all of them the content is one thing with the form4 ,what ,beethoven meant by his symphony1 or ,turner by his picture1 was not something which you can name1 but the picture and the symphony4 ,meaning they have1 but what meaning can be said in no language but their own3 and we know this1 though some strange delusion makes us think the meaning has less worth because we cannot put it into words4 ,well1 it is just the same with poetry4 ,but because poetry is words1 we vainly fancy that some other words than its own will express its meaning4 ,and they will do so no more--or1 if you like to speak loosely1 only a little more--than words will express the meaning of the ,dresden ,madonna4 ,something a little like it they may indeed express4 ,and we may find analogues of the meaning of poetry outside it1 which may help us to appropriate it4 ,the other arts1 the best ideas of philosophy or religion1 much that nature and life offer us or force upon us1 are akin to it4 ,but they are only akin4 ,nor is it the expression of them4 ,poetry does not present to imagination our highest knowledge or belief1 and much less our dreams and opinions2 but it1 content and form in unity1 embodies in its own irreplaceable way something which embodies itself also in other irreplaceable ways1 such as philosophy or religion4 ,and just as each of these gives a satisfaction which the other cannot possibly give1 so we find in poetry1 which cannot satisfy the needs they meet1 that which by their natures they cannot afford us4 ,but we shall not find it fully if we look for something else4 ,and now1 when all is said1 the question will still recur1 though now in quite another sense1 ,what does poetry mean8 ,this unique expression1 which cannot be replaced by any other1 still seems to be trying to express something beyond itself4 ,and this1 we feel1 is also what the other arts1 and religion1 and philosophy are trying to express3 and that is what impels us to seek in vain to translate the one into the other4 ,about the best poetry1 and not only the best1 there floats an atmosphere of infinite suggestion4 ,the poet speaks to us of one thing1 but in this one thing there seems to lurk the secret of all4 ,he said what he meant1 but his meaning seems to beckon away beyond itself1 or rather to expand into something boundless1 which is only focussed in it2 something also which1 we feel1 would satisfy not only the imagination1 but the whole of us2 that something within us1 and without1 which everywhere makes us seem ,to patch up fragments of a dream1 ,part of which comes true1 and part ,beats and trembles in the heart4 ,those who are susceptible to this effect of poetry find it not only1 perhaps not most1 in the ideals which she has sometimes described1 but in a child's song by ,christina ,rossetti about a mere crown of wind-flowers1 and in tragedies like ,lear1 where the sun seems to have set for ever4 ,they hear this spirit murmuring its undertone through the ,aeneid1 and catch its voice in the song of ,keats's nightingale1 and its light upon the figures on the ,urn1 and it pierces them no less in ,shelley's hopeless lament1 ,o world1 ,o life1 ,o time1 than in the rapturous ecstasy of his ,life of ,life4 ,this all-embracing perfection cannot be expressed in poetic words or words of any kind1 nor yet in music or in colour1 but the suggestion of it is in much poetry1 if not all1 and poetry has in this suggestion1 this meaning1 a great part of its value4 ,we do it wrong1 and we defeat our own purposes when we try to bend it to them3 ,we do it wrong1 being so majestical1 ,to offer it the show of violence2 ,for it is as the air invulnerable1 ,and our vain blows malicious mockery4 ,it is a spirit4 ,it comes we know not whence4 ,it will not speak at our bidding1 nor answer in our language4 ,it is not our servant2 it is our master4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #gh3 ,from ,oxford ,lectures on ,poetry1 #aiji4 ,printed by courtesy of ,the ,macmillan ,company4 ,,greek ,,tragedy#gi ,g4 ,,lowes ,,dickinson ,the character of ,greek tragedy was determined from the very beginning by the fact of its connection with religion4 ,the season at which it was performed was the festival of ,dionysus2 about his altar the chorus danced2 and the object of the performance was the representation of scenes out of the lives of ancient heroes4 ,the subject of the drama was thus strictly prescribed2 it must be selected out of a cycle of legends familiar to the audience2 and whatever freedom might be allowed to the poet in his treatment of the theme1 whatever the reflections he might embroider upon it1 the speculative or ethical views1 the criticism of contemporary life1 all must be subservient to the main object originally proposed1 the setting forth1 for edification as well as for delight1 of some episodes in the lives of those heroes of the past who were considered not only to be greater than their descendants1 but to be the sons of gods and worthy themselves of worship as divine4 ,by this fundamental condition the tragedy of the ,greeks is distinguished sharply1 on the one hand from the ,shakespearian drama1 on the other from the classical drama of the ,french4 ,the tragedies of ,shakespeare are devoid1 one might say1 or at least comparatively devoid1 of all preconceptions4 ,he was free to choose what subject he liked and to treat it as he would2 and no sense of obligation to religious or other points of view1 no feeling for traditions descended from a sacred past and not lightly to be handled by those who were their trustees for the future1 sobered or restrained for evil or for good his half-barbaric genius4 ,he flung himself upon life with the irresponsible ardour of the discoverer of a new continent2 shaped and re-shaped it as he chose2 carved from it now the cynicism of ,measure for ,measure1 now the despair of ,hamlet and of ,lear1 now the radiant magnanimity of ,the ,tempest1 and departed leaving behind him not a map or chart1 but a series of mutually incompatible landscapes4 ,what ,shakespeare gave1 in short1 was a many-sided representation of life2 what the ,greek dramatist gave was an interpretation4 ,but an interpretation not simply personal to himself1 but representative of the national tradition and belief4 ,the men whose deeds and passions he narrated were the patterns and examples on the one hand1 on the other the warnings of his race2 the gods who determined the fortunes they sang1 were working still among men2 the moral laws that ruled the past ruled the present too2 and the history of the ,hellenic race moved1 under a visible providence1 from its divine origin onward to an end that would be prosperous or the reverse according as later generations should continue to observe the worship and traditions of their fathers descended from heroes and gods4 ,and it is the fact that in this sense it was representative of the national consciousness1 that distinguishes the ,greek tragedy from the classical drama of the ,french4 ,for the latter1 though it imitated the ancients in outward form1 was inspired with a totally different spirit4 ,the kings and heroes whose fortunes it narrated were not the ancestors of the ,french race2 they had no root in its affections1 no connection with its religious beliefs1 no relation to its ethical conceptions4 ,the whole ideal set forth was not that which really inspired the nation1 but at best that which was supposed to inspire the court2 and the whole drama1 like a tree transplanted to an alien soil1 withers and dies for lack of the nourishment which the tragedy of the ,greeks unconsciously imbibed from its encompassing air of national tradition4 ,such then was the general character of the ,greek tragedy--an interpretation of the national ideal4 ,let us now proceed to follow out some of the consequences involved in this conception4 ,in the first place1 the theme represented is the life and fate of ancient heroes--of personages1 that is to say1 greater than ordinary men1 both for good and for evil1 in their qualities and in their achievements1 pregnant with fateful issues1 makers or marrers of the fortunes of the world4 ,tragic and terrible their destiny may be1 but never contemptible or squalid4 ,behind all suffering1 behind sin and crime1 must lie redeeming magnanimity4 ,a complete villain1 says ,aristotle1 is not a tragic character1 for he has no hold upon the sympathies2 if he prosper1 it is an outrage on common human feeling2 if he fall into disaster1 it is merely what he deserves4 ,neither is it admissible to represent the misfortunes of a thoroughly good man1 for that is merely painful and distressing2 and least of all is it tolerable gratuitously to introduce mere baseness1 or madness1 or other aberrations from human nature4 ,the true tragic hero is a man of high place and birth who having a nature not ignoble has fallen into sin and pays in suffering the penalty of his act4 ,nothing could throw more light on the distinguishing characteristics of the ,greek drama than these few remarks of ,aristotle1 and nothing could better indicate how close1 in the ,greek mind1 was the connection between aesthetic and ethical judgments4 ,the canon of ,aristotle would exclude as proper themes for tragedy the character and fate1 say1 of ,richard ,,iii--the absolutely bad man suffering his appropriate desert2 or of ,kent and ,cordelia--the absolutely good1 brought into unmerited affliction2 and that not merely because such themes offend the moral sense1 but because by so offending they destroy the proper pleasure of the tragic art4 ,the whole aesthetic effect is limited by ethical presuppositions2 and to outrage these is to defeat the very purpose of tragedy4 ,specially interesting in this connection are the strictures passed on ,euripides in the passage of the ,frogs of ,aristophanes to which allusion has already been made4 ,euripides is there accused of lowering the tragic art by introducing--what8 ,women in love6 ,the central theme of modern tragedy6 ,it is the boast of ,aeschylus that there is not one of his plays which touches on this subject3 ,i never allow'd of your lewd ,sthenoboeas ,or filthy detestable ,phaedras--not ,i6 ,indeed ,i should doubt if my drama throughout ,exhibit an instance of woman in love6#hj ,and there can be little doubt that with a ,greek audience this would count to him as a merit1 and that the shifting of the centre of interest by ,euripides from the sterner passions of heroes and of kings to this tenderer phase of human feeling would be felt even by those whom it charmed to be a declension from the height of the older tragedy4 ,and to this limitation of subject corresponds a limitation of treatment4 ,the ,greek tragedy is composed from a definite point of view1 with the aim not merely to represent but also to interpret the theme4 ,underlying the whole construction of the plot1 the dialogue1 the reflections1 the lyric interludes1 is the intention to illustrate some general moral law1 some common and typical problem1 some fundamental truth4 ,of the elder dramatists at any rate1 ,aeschylus and ,sophocles1 one may even say that it was their purpose--however imperfectly achieved--to justify the ways of ,god to man4 ,to represent suffering as the punishment of sin is the constant bent of ,aeschylus2 to justify the law of ,god against the presumption of man is the central idea of ,sophocles4 ,in either case the whole tone is essentially religious4 ,to choose such a theme as ,lear1 to treat it as ,shakespeare has treated it1 to leave it1 as it were1 bleeding from a thousand wounds1 in mute and helpless entreaty for the healing that is never to be vouchsafed--this would have been repulsive1 if not impossible1 to a ,greek tragedian4 ,without ever descending from concrete art to the abstractions of mere moralising1 without ever attempting to substitute a verbal formula for the full and complex perception that grows out of a representation of life1 the ancient dramatists were nevertheless1 in the whole apprehension of their theme1 determined by a more or less conscious speculative bias2 the world to them was not merely a splendid chaos1 it was a divine plan2 and even in its darkest hollows1 its passes most perilous and bleak1 they have their hand1 though doubtful perhaps and faltering1 upon the clue that is to lead them up to the open sky4 ,it is consonant with this account of the nature of ,greek tragedy that it should have laid more stress upon action than upon character4 ,the interest was centred on the universal bearing of certain acts and situations1 on the light which the experience represented threw on the whole tendency and course of human life1 not on the sentiments and motives of the particular personages introduced4 ,the characters are broad and simple1 not developing for the most part1 but fixed1 and fitted therefore to be the mediums of direct action1 of simple issues1 and typical situations4 ,in the ,greek tragedy the general point of view predominates over the idiosyncrasies of particular persons4 ,it is human nature that is represented in the broad1 not this or that highly specialised variation2 and what we have indicated as the general aim1 the interpretation of life1 is never obscured by the predominance of exceptional and so to speak1 accidental characteristics4 ,man is the subject of the ,greek drama2 the subject of the modern novel is ,tom and ,dick4 ,finally1 to the realisation of this general aim1 the whole form of the ,greek drama was admirably adapted4 ,it consisted very largely of conversations between two persons1 representing two opposed points of view1 and giving occasion for an almost scientific discussion of every problem of action raised in the play2 and between these conversations were inserted lyric odes in which the chorus commented on the situation1 bestowed advice or warning1 praise or blame1 and finally summed up the moral of the whole4 ,through the chorus1 in fact1 the poet could speak in his own person1 and impose upon the whole tragedy any tone which he desired4 ,periodically he could drop the dramatist and assume the preacher2 and thus ensure that his play should be1 what we have seen was its recognised ideal1 not merely a representation but an interpretation of life4 ,but this without ceasing to be a work of art4 ,in attempting to analyse in abstract terms the general character of the ,greek tragedy we have necessarily thrown into the shade what after all was its primary and most essential aspect2 an aspect1 however1 of which a full appreciation could only be attained not by a mere perusal of the test1 but by what is unfortunately for ever beyond our power1 the witnessing of an actual representation as it was given on the ,greek stage4 ,for from a purely aesthetic point of view the ,greek drama must be reckoned among the most perfect of art forms4 ,taking place in the open air1 on the sunny slope of a hill1 valley and plain or islanded sea stretching away below to meet the blazing blue of a cloudless sky1 the moving pageant1 thus from the first set in tune with nature1 brought to a focus of splendour the rays of every separate art4 ,more akin to an opera than to a play it had1 as its basis1 music4 ,for the drama had developed out of the lyric ode1 and retained throughout what was at first its only element1 the dance and song of a mimetic chorus4 ,by this centre of rhythmic motion and pregnant melody the burden of the tale was caught up and echoed and echoed again1 as the living globe divided into spheres of answering song1 the clear and precise significance of the plot1 never obscure to the head1 being thus brought home in music to the passion of the heart1 the idea embodied in lyric verse1 the verse transfigured by song1 and song and verse reflected as in a mirror to the eye by the swing and beat of the limbs they stirred to consonance of motion4 ,and while such was the character of the odes that broke the action of the play1 the action itself was an appeal not less to the ear and to the eye than to the passion and the intellect4 ,the circumstances of the representation1 the huge auditorium in the open air1 lent themselves less to acting in our sense of the term1 than to attitude and declamation4 ,the actors raised on high boots above their natural height1 their faces hidden in masks and their tones mechanically magnified1 must have relied for their effects not upon facial play1 or rapid and subtle variations of voice and gesture1 but upon a certain statuesque beauty of pose1 and a chanting intonation of that majestic iambic verse whose measure would have been obscured by a rapid and conversational delivery4 ,the representation would thus become moving sculpture to the eye1 and to the ear1 as it were1 a sleep of music between the intenser interludes of the chorus2 and the spectator without being drawn away by an imitative realism from the calm of impassioned contemplation into the fever and fret of a veritable actor on the scene1 received an impression based throughout on that clear intellectual foundation1 that almost prosaic lucidity of sentiment and plot1 which is preserved to us in the written text1 but raised by the accompanying appeal to the sense1 made as it must have been made by such artists as the ,greeks1 by the grouping of forms and colours1 the recitative1 the dance and the song1 to such a greatness and height of aesthetic significance as can hardly have been realised by any other form of art production4 ,the nearest modern analogy to what the ancient drama must have been is to be found probably in the operas of ,wagner1 who indeed was strongly influenced by the tragedy of the ,greeks4 ,it was his ideal like theirs1 to combine the various branches of art1 employing not only music but poetry1 sculpture1 painting and the dance1 for the representation of his dramatic theme2 and his conception also to make art the interpreter of life1 reflecting in a national drama the national consciousness1 the highest action and the deepest passion and thought of the ,german race4 ,to consider how far in this attempt he falls short of or goes beyond the achievement of the ,greeks1 and to examine the wide dissimilarities that underlie the general identity of aim1 would be to wander too far afield from our present theme4 ,but the comparison may be recommended to those who are anxious to form a concrete idea of what the effect of a ,greek tragedy may have been1 and to clothe in imagination the dead bones of the literary text with the flesh and blood of a representation to the sense4 ,meantime1 to assist the reader to realise with somewhat greater precision the bearing of the foregoing remarks1 it may be worth while to give an outline sketch of one of the most celebrated of the ,greek tragedies1 the ,agamemnon of ,aeschylus4 ,the hero of the drama belongs to that heroic house whose tragic history was among the most terrible and the most familiar to a ,greek audience4 ,tantalus1 the founder of the family1 for some offence against the gods1 was suffering in ,hades the punishment which is christened by his name4 ,his son ,pelops was stained with the blood of ,myrtilus4 ,of the two sons of the next generation1 ,thyestes seduced the wife of his brother ,atreus2 and ,atreus in return killed the sons of ,thyestes1 and made the father unwittingly eat the flesh of the murdered boys4 ,agamemnon1 son of ,atreus1 to propitiate ,artemis1 sacrificed his daughter ,iphigenia1 and in revenge was murdered by ,clytemnestra his wife4 ,and ,clytemnestra was killed by ,orestes1 her son1 in atonement for the death of ,agamemnon4 ,for generations the race had been dogged by crime and punishment2 and in choosing for his theme the murder of ,agamemnon the dramatist could assume in his audience so close a familiarity with the past history of the ,house that he could call into existence by an allusive word that sombre background of woe to enhance the terrors of his actual presentation4 ,the figures he brought into vivid relief joined hands with menacing forms that faded away into the night of the future and the past2 while above them hung1 intoning doom1 the phantom host of ,furies4 ,yet at the outset of the drama all promises well4 ,the watchman on the roof of the palace1 in the tenth year of his watch1 catches sight at last of the signal fire that announces the capture of ,troy and the speedy return of ,agamemnon4 ,with joy he proclaims to the ,house the long-delayed and welcome news2 yet even in the moment of exultation lets slip a doubtful phrase hinting at something behind1 which he dares not name1 something which may turn to despair the triumph of victory4 ,hereupon enter the chorus of ,argive elders1 chanting as they move to the measure of a stately march4 ,they sing how ten years before ,agamemnon and ,menelaus had led forth the host of ,greece1 at the bidding of the ,zeus who protects hospitality1 to recover for ,menelaus ,helen his wife1 treacherously stolen by ,paris4 ,then1 as they take their places and begin their rhythmic dance1 in a strain of impassioned verse that is at once a narrative and a lyric hymn1 they tell1 or rather present in a series of vivid images1 flashing as by illumination of lightning out of a night of veiled and sombre boding1 the tale of the deed that darkened the starting of the host--the sacrifice of ,iphigenia to the goddess whose wrath was delaying the fleet at ,aulis4 ,in verse1 in music1 in pantomime1 the scene lives again--the struggle in the father's heart1 the insistence of his brother chiefs1 the piteous glance of the girl1 and at last the unutterable end2 while above and through it all rings like a knell of fate the refrain that is the motive of the whole drama3 ,sing woe1 sing woe1 but may the ,good prevail4 ,at the conclusion of the ode enters ,clytemnestra4 ,she makes a formal announcement to the chorus of the fall of ,troy2 describes the course of the signal-fire from beacon to beacon as it sped1 and pictures in imagination the scenes even then taking place in the doomed city4 ,on her withdrawal the chorus break once more into song and dance4 ,to the music of a solemn hymn they point the moral of the fall of ,troy1 the certain doom of violence and fraud descended upon ,paris and his ,house4 ,once more the vivid pictures flash from the night of woe--,helen in her fatal beauty stepping lightly to her doom1 the widower's nights of mourning haunted by the ghost of love1 the horrors of the war that followed1 the slain abroad and the mourners at home1 the change of living flesh and blood for the dust and ashes of the tomb4 ,at last with a return to their original theme1 the doom of insolence1 the chorus close their ode and announce the arrival of a messenger from ,troy4 ,talthybius1 the herald1 enters as spokesman of the army and king1 describing the hardships they have suffered and the joy of the triumphant issue4 ,to him ,clytemnestra announces1 in words of which the irony is patent to the audience1 her sufferings in the absence of her husband and her delight at the prospect of his return4 ,he will find her1 she says1 as he left her1 a faithful watcher of the home1 her loyalty sure1 her honour undefiled4 ,then follows another choral ode1 similar in theme to the last1 dwelling on the woe brought by the act of ,paris upon ,troy1 the change of the bridal song to the trump of war and the dirge of death2 contrasting1 in a profusion of splendid tropes1 the beauty of ,helen with the curse to which it is bound2 and insisting once more on the doom that attends insolence and pride4 ,at the conclusion of this song the measure changes to a march1 and the chorus turn to welcome the triumphant king4 ,agamemnon enters1 and behind him the veiled and silent figure of a woman4 ,after greeting the gods of his ,house1 the ,king1 in brief and stilted phrase1 acknowledges the loyalty of the chorus1 but hints at much that is amiss which it must be his first charge to set right4 ,hereupon enters ,clytemnestra1 and in a speech of rhetorical exaggeration tells of her anxious waiting for her lord and her inexpressible joy at his return4 ,in conclusion she directs that purple cloth be spread upon his path that he may enter the house as befits a conqueror4 ,after a show of resistance1 ,agamemnon yields the point1 and the contrast at which the dramatist aims is achieved4 ,with the pomp of an eastern monarch1 always repellent to the ,greek mind1 the ,king steps across the threshold1 steps1 as the audience knows1 to his death4 ,the higher the reach of his power and pride the more terrible and swift is the nemesis2 and ,clytemnestra follows in triumph with the enigmatic cry upon her lips3 ,zeus who art god of fulfilment1 fulfil my prayers4 ,as she withdraws the chorus begin a song of boding fear1 the more terrible that it is still indefinite4 ,something is going to happen--the presentiment is sure4 ,but what1 but what8 ,they search the night in vain4 ,meantime1 motionless and silent waits the figure of the veiled woman4 ,it is ,cassandra1 the prophetess1 daughter of ,priam of ,troy1 whom ,agamemnon has carried home as his prize4 ,clytemnestra returns to urge her to enter the house2 she makes no sign and utters no word4 ,the queen changes her tone from courtesy to anger and rebuke2 the figure neither stirs nor speaks2 and ,clytemnestra at last with an angry threat leaves her and returns to the palace4 ,then1 and not till then1 a cry breaks from the stranger's lips1 a passionate cry to ,apollo who gave her her fatal gift4 ,all the sombre history of the ,house to which she has been brought1 the woe that has been and the woe that is to come1 passes in pictures across her inner sense4 ,in a series of broken ejaculations1 not sentences but lyric cries1 she evokes the scenes of the past and of the future4 ,blood drips from the palace2 in its chambers the ,furies crouch2 the murdered sons of ,thyestes wail in its haunted courts2 and ever among the visions of the past that one of the future floats and fades1 clearly discerned1 impossible to avert1 the murder of a husband by a wife2 and in the rear of that1 most pitiful of all1 the violent death of the seer who sees in vain and may not help4 ,between ,cassandra and the ,chorus it is a duet of anguish and fear2 in the broken lyric phrases a phantom music wails2 till at last1 at what seems the breaking-point1 the tension is relaxed1 and dropping into the calmer iambic recitative1 ,cassandra tells her message in plainer speech and clearly proclaims the murder of the ,king4 ,then1 with a last appeal to the avenger that is to come1 she enters the palace alone to meet her death4--,the stage is empty4 ,suddenly a cry is heard from within2 again1 and then again2 while the chorus hesitate the deed is done2 the doors are thrown open1 and ,clytemnestra is seen standing over the corpses of her victims4 ,all disguise is now thrown off2 the murderess avows and triumphs in her deed2 she justifies it as vengeance for the sacrifice of ,iphigenia1 and sees in herself not a free human agent but the incarnate curse of the ,house of ,tantalus4 ,and now for the first time appears the adulterer ,aegisthus1 who has planned the whole behind the scenes4 ,he too is an avenger1 for he is the son of that ,thyestes who was made to feed on his own children's flesh4 ,the murder of ,agamemnon is but one more link in the long chain of hereditary guilt2 and with that exposition of the pitiless law of punishment and crime this chapter of the great drama comes to a close4 ,but the ,agamemnon is only the first of a series of three plays closely connected and meant to be performed in succession2 and the problem raised in the first of them1 the crime that cries for punishment and the punishment that is itself a new crime1 is solved in the last by a reconciliation of the powers of heaven and hell1 and the pardon of the last offender in the person of ,orestes4 ,to sketch1 however1 the plan of the other dramas of the trilogy would be to trespass too far upon our space and time4 ,it is enough to have illustrated1 by the example of the ,agamemnon1 the general character of a ,greek tragedy2 and those who care to pursue the subject further must be referred to the text of the plays themselves4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #gi3 ,from ,the ,greek ,view of ,life1 #aiji 7sixth edition74 ,by permission of ,messrs4 ,doubleday1 ,page ,co4 ,footnote #hj3 ,from ,aristophanes' ,frogs1 l4 #ajdc4 ,translated by ,frere4 ,,shakespeare#ha ,,thomas ,,carlyle ,as ,dante1 the ,italian man1 was sent into our world to embody musically the ,religion of the ,middle ,ages1 the ,religion of our ,modern ,europe1 its ,inner ,life2 so ,shakespeare1 we may say1 embodies for us the ,outer ,life of our ,europe as developed then1 its chivalries1 courtesies1 humours1 ambitions1 what practical way of thinking1 acting1 looking at the world1 men then had4 ,as in ,homer we may still construe ,old ,greece2 so in ,shakespeare and ,dante1 after thousands of years1 what our modern ,europe was1 in ,faith and in ,practice1 will still be legible4 ,dante has given us the ,faith or soul2 ,shakespeare1 in a not less noble way1 has given us the ,practice or body4 ,this latter also we were to have2 a man was sent for it1 the man ,shakespeare4 ,just when that chivalry way of life had reached its last finish1 and was on the point of breaking down into slow or swift dissolution1 as we now see it everywhere1 this other sovereign ,poet1 with his seeing eye1 with his perennial singing voice1 was sent to take note of it1 to give long-enduring record of it4 ,two fit men3 ,dante1 deep1 fierce as the central fire of the world2 ,shakespeare1 wide1 placid1 far-seeing1 as the ,sun1 the upper light of the world4 ,italy produced the one world-voice2 we ,english had the honour of producing the other4 ,curious enough how1 as it were by mere accident1 this man came to us4 ,i think always1 so great1 quiet1 complete and self-sufficing is this ,shakespeare1 had the ,warwickshire ,squire not prosecuted him for deer-stealing1 we had perhaps never heard of him as a ,poet6 ,the woods and skies1 the rustic ,life of ,man in ,stratford there1 had been enough for this man6 ,but indeed that strange outbudding of our whole ,english ,existence1 which we call the ,elizabethan ,era1 did not it too come as of its own accord8 ,the ,tree ,igdrasil buds and withers by its own laws1--too deep for our scanning4 ,yet it does bud and wither1 and every bough and leaf of it is there1 by fixed eternal laws2 not a ,sir ,thomas ,lucy but comes at the hour fit for him4 ,curious1 ,i say1 and not sufficiently considered3 how everything does co-operate with all2 not a leaf rotting on the highway but is indissoluble portion of solar and stellar systems2 no thought1 word or act of man but has sprung withal out of all men1 and works sooner or later1 recognisably or irrecognisably1 on all men6 ,it is all a ,tree3 circulation of sap and influences1 mutual communication of every minutest leaf with the lowest talon of a root1 with every other greatest and minutest portion of the whole4 ,the ,tree ,igdrasil1 that has its roots down in the ,kingdoms of ,hela and ,death1 and whose boughs overspread the highest ,heaven6 ,in some sense it may be said that this glorious ,elizabethan ,era with its ,shakespeare1 as the outcome and flowerage of all which had preceded it1 is itself attributable to the ,catholicism of the ,middle ,ages4 ,the ,christian ,faith1 which was the theme of ,dante's ,song1 had produced this ,practical ,life which ,shakespeare was to sing4 ,for ,religion then1 as it now and always is1 was the soul of ,practice2 the primary vital fact in men's life4 ,and remark here1 as rather curious1 that ,middle-,age ,catholicism was abolished1 so far as ,acts of ,parliament could abolish it1 before ,shakespeare1 the noblest product of it1 made his appearance4 ,he did make his appearance nevertheless4 ,nature at her own time1 with ,catholicism or what else might be necessary1 sent him forth2 taking small thought of ,acts of ,parliament4 ,king-,henrys1 ,queen-,elizabeths go their way2 and ,nature too goes hers4 ,acts of ,parliament1 on the whole1 are small1 notwithstanding the noise they make4 ,what ,act of ,parliament1 debate at ,st4 ,stephen's1#hb on the hustings or elsewhere1 was it that brought this ,shakespeare into being8 ,no dining at ,freemasons' ,tavern1 opening subscription-lists1 selling of shares1 and infinite other jangling and true or false endeavouring6 ,this ,elizabethan ,era1 and all its nobleness and blessedness1 came without proclamation1 preparation of ours4 ,priceless ,shakespeare was the free gift of ,nature2 given altogether silently2 received altogether silently1 as if it had been a thing of little account4 ,and yet1 very literally1 it is a priceless thing4 ,one should look at that side of matters too4 ,of this ,shakespeare of ours1 perhaps the opinion one sometimes hears a little idolatrously expressed is1 in fact1 the right one2 ,i think the best judgment not of this country only3 but of ,europe at large1 is slowly pointing to the conclusion1 ,that ,shakespeare is the chief of all ,poets hitherto2 the greatest intellect who1 in our recorded world1 has left record of himself in the way of ,literature4 ,on the whole1 ,i know not such a power of vision1 such a faculty of thought1 if we take all the characters of it1 in any other man4 ,such a calmness of depth2 placid joyous strength2 all things imaged in that great soul of his so true and clear1 as in a tranquil unfathomable sea6 ,it has been said1 that in the constructing of ,shakespeare's ,dramas there is1 apart from all other faculties as they are called1 an understanding manifested1 equal to that in ,bacon's ,novum ,organum4 ,that is true2 and it is not a truth that strikes every one4 ,it would become more apparent if we tried1 any of us for himself1 how1 out of ,shakespeare's dramatic materials1 we could fashion such a result6 ,the built house seems all so fit1--everyway as it should be1 as if it came there by its own law and the nature of things1--we forget the rude disorderly quarry it was shaped from4 ,the very perfection of the house1 as if ,nature herself had made it1 hides the builder's merit4 ,perfect1 more perfect than any other man1 we may call ,shakespeare in this3 he discerns1 knows as by instinct1 what condition he works under1 what his materials are1 what his own force and its relation to them is4 ,it is not a transitory glance of insight that will suffice2 it is deliberate illumination of the whole matter2 it is a calmly seeing eye2 a great intellect1 in short4 ,how a man1 of some wide thing that he has witnessed1 will construct a narrative1 what kind of picture and delineation he will give of it--is the best measure you could get of what intellect is in the man4 ,which circumstance is vital and shall stand prominent2 which unessential1 fit to be suppressed2 where is the true beginning1 the true sequence and ending8 ,to find out this1 you task the whole force of insight that is in the man4 ,he must understand the thing2 according to the depth of his understanding1 will the fitness of his answer be4 ,you will try him so4 ,does like join itself to like2 does the spirit of method stir in that confusion1 so that its embroilment becomes order8 ,can the man say1 ,fiat lux1 ,let there be light2 and out of chaos make a world8 ,precisely as there is light in himself1 will he accomplish this4 ,or indeed we may say again1 it is in what ,i called ,portrait-painting1 delineating of men and things1 especially of men1 that ,shakespeare is great4 ,all the greatness of the man comes out decisively here4 ,it is unexampled1 ,i think1 that calm creative perspicacity of ,shakespeare4 ,the thing he looks at reveals not this or that face of it1 but its inmost heart1 and generic secret3 it dissolves itself as in light before him1 so that he discerns the perfect structure of it4 ,creative1 we said3 poetic creation1 what is this too but seeing the thing sufficiently8 ,the word that will describe the thing1 follows of itself from such clear intense sight of the thing4 ,and is not ,shakespeare's morality1 his valour1 candour1 tolerance1 truthfulness2 his whole victorious strength and greatness1 which can triumph over such obstructions1 visible there too8 ,great as the world6 ,no twisted1 poor convex-concave mirror1 reflecting all objects with its own convexities and concavities2 a perfectly level mirror--that is to say withal1 if we will understand it1 a man justly related to all things and men1 a good man4 ,it is truly a lordly spectacle how this great soul takes-in all kinds of men and objects1 a ,falstaff1 an ,othello1 a ,juliet1 a ,coriolanus2 sets them all forth to us in their round completeness2 loving1 just1 the equal brother of all4 ,novum ,organum1 and all the intellect you will find in ,bacon1 is of a quite secondary order2 earthy1 material1 poor in comparison with this4 ,among modern men1 one finds1 in strictness1 almost nothing of the same rank4 ,goethe alone1 since the days of ,shakespeare1 reminds me of it4 ,of him too you say that he saw the object2 you may say what he himself says of ,shakespeare3 ,his characters are like watches with dial-plates of transparent crystal2 they show you the hour like others1 and the inward mechanism also is all visible4 ,the seeing eye6 ,it is this that discloses the inner harmony of things2 what ,nature meant1 what musical idea ,nature has wrapped-up in these often rough embodiments4 ,something she did mean4 ,to the seeing eye that something were discernible4 ,are they base1 miserable things8 ,you can laugh over them1 you can weep over them2 you can in some way or other genially relate yourself to them--you can1 at lowest1 hold your peace about them1 turn away your own and others' face from them1 till the hour come for practically exterminating and extinguishing them6 ,at bottom1 it is the ,poet's first gift1 as it is all men's1 that he have intellect enough4 ,he will be a ,poet if he have3 a ,poet in word2 or failing that1 perhaps still better1 a ,poet in act4 ,whether he write at all1 and if so1 whether in prose or in verse1 will depend on accidents3 who knows on what extremely trivial accidents1--perhaps on his having had a singing-master1 on his being taught to sing in his boyhood6 ,but the faculty which enables him to discern the inner heart of things1 and the harmony that dwells there 7for whatsoever exists has a harmony in the heart of it1 or it would not hold together and exist71 is not the result of habits or accidents1 but the gift of ,nature herself2 the primary outfit for a ,heroic ,man in what sort soever4 ,to the ,poet1 as to every other1 we say first of all ,see4 ,if you cannot do that1 it is of no use to keep stringing rhymes together1 jingling sensibilities against each other1 and name yourself a ,poet2 there is no hope for you4 ,if you can1 there is1 in prose or verse1 in action or speculation1 all manner of hope4 ,the crabbed old ,schoolmaster used to ask1 when they brought him a new pupil1 ,but are ye sure he's not a dunce8 ,why1 really one might ask the same thing1 in regard to every man proposed for whatsoever function2 and consider it as the one inquiry needful3 ,are ye sure he's not a dunce8 ,there is1 in this world1 no other entirely fatal person4 ,for1 in fact1 ,i say the degree of vision that dwells in a man is a correct measure of the man4 ,if called to define ,shakespeare's faculty1 ,i should say superiority of ,intellect1 and think ,i had included all under that4 ,what indeed are faculties8 ,we talk of faculties as if they were distinct1 things separable2 as if a man had intellect1 imagination1 fancy1 etc41 as he has hands1 feet and arms4 ,that is a capital error4 ,then again1 we hear of a man's intellectual nature1 and of his moral nature1 as if these again were divisible1 and existed apart4 ,necessities of language do perhaps prescribe such forms of utterance2 we must speak1 ,i am aware1 in that way1 if we are to speak at all4 ,but words ought not to harden into things for us4 ,it seems to me1 our apprehension of this matter is1 for most part1 radically falsified thereby4 ,we ought to know withal1 and to keep forever in mind1 that these divisions are at bottom but names2 that man's spiritual nature1 the vital ,force which dwells in him1 is essentially one and indivisible2 that what we call imagination1 fancy1 understanding1 and so forth1 are but different figures of the same ,power of ,insight1 all indissolubly connected with each other1 physiognomically related2 that if we knew one of them1 we might know all of them4 ,morality itself1 what we call the moral quality of a man1 what is this but another side of the one vital ,force whereby he is and works8 ,all that a man does is physiognomical of him4 ,you may see how a man would fight1 by the way in which he sings2 his courage1 or want of courage1 is visible in the word he utters1 in the opinion he has formed1 no less than in the stroke he strikes4 ,he is one2 and preaches the same ,self abroad in all these ways4 ,without hands a man might have feet1 and could still walk3 but1 consider it--without morality1 intellect were impossible for him2 a thoroughly immoral man could not know anything at all6 ,to know a thing1 what we can call knowing1 a man must first love the thing1 sympathise with it3 that is1 be virtuously related to it4 ,if he have not the justice to put down his own selfishness at every turn1 the courage to stand by the dangerous true at every turn1 how shall he know8 ,his virtues1 all of them1 will lie recorded in his knowledge4 ,nature1 with her truth1 remains to the bad1 to the selfish and the pusillanimous forever a sealed book3 what such can know of ,nature is mean1 superficial1 small2 for the uses of the day merely4 ,but does not the very ,fox know something of ,nature8 ,exactly so3 it knows where the geese lodge6 ,the human ,reynard1 very frequent everywhere in the world1 what more does he know but this and the like of this8 ,nay1 it should be considered too1 that if the ,fox had not a certain vulpine morality1 he could not even know where the geese were1 or get at the geese6 ,if he spent his time in splenetic atrabiliar reflections on his own misery1 his ill usage by ,nature1 ,fortune and other ,foxes1 and so forth2 and had not courage1 promptitude1 practicality1 and other suitable vulpine gifts and graces1 he would catch no geese4 ,we may say of the ,fox too1 that his morality and insight are of the same dimensions2 different faces of the same internal unity of vulpine life6 ,these things are worth stating2 for the contrary of them acts with manifold very baleful perversion1 in this time3 what limitations1 modifications they require1 your own candour will supply4 ,if ,i say1 therefore1 that ,shakespeare is the greatest of ,intellects1 ,i have said all concerning him4 ,but there is more in ,shakespeare's intellect than we have yet seen4 ,it is what ,i call an unconscious intellect2 there is more virtue in it than he himself is aware of4 ,novalis beautifully remarks of him1 that those ,dramas of his are ,products of ,nature too1 deep as ,nature herself4 ,i find a great truth in this saying4 ,shakespeare's ,art is not ,artifice2 the noblest worth of it is not there by plan or precontrivance4 ,it grows-up from the deeps of ,nature1 through this noble sincere soul1 who is a voice of ,nature4 ,the latest generations of men will find new meanings in ,shakespeare1 new elucidations of their own human being2 new harmonies with the infinite structure of the ,universe2 concurrences with later ideas1 affinities with the higher powers and senses of man4 ,this well deserves meditating4 ,it is ,nature's highest reward to a true simple great soul1 that he get thus to be a part of herself4 ,such a man's works1 whatsoever he with utmost conscious exertion and forethought shall accomplish1 grow up withal unconsciously1 from the unknown deeps in him2--as the oak-tree grows from the ,earth's bosom1 as the mountains and waters shape themselves2 with a symmetry grounded on ,nature's own laws1 conformable to all ,truth whatsoever4 ,how much in ,shakespeare lies hid2 his sorrows1 his silent struggles known to himself2 much that was not known at all1 not speakable at all3 like roots1 like sap and forces working underground6 ,speech is great2 but ,silence is greater4 ,withal the joyful tranquillity of this man is notable4 ,i will not blame ,dante for his misery3 it is as battle without victory2 but true battle1--the first1 indispensable thing4 ,yet ,i call ,shakespeare greater than ,dante1 in that he fought truly1 and did conquer4 ,doubt it not1 he had his own sorrows3 those ,sonnets of his will even testify expressly in what deep waters he had waded1 and swum struggling for his life--as what man like him ever failed to have to do8 ,it seems to me a heedless notion1 our common one1 that he sat like a bird on the bough2 and sang forth1 free and offhand1 never knowing the troubles of other men4 ,not so2 with no man is it so4 ,how could a man travel forward from rustic deer-poaching to such tragedy-writing1 and not fall-in with sorrows by the way8 ,or1 still better1 how could a man delineate a ,hamlet1 a ,coriolanus1 a ,macbeth1 so many suffering heroic hearts1 if his own heroic heart had never suffered8--,and now1 in contrast with all this1 observe his mirthfulness1 his genuine overflowing love of laughter6 ,you would say1 in no point does he exaggerate but only in laughter4 ,fiery objurgations1 words that pierce and burn1 are to be found in ,shakespeare2 yet he is always in measure here2 never what ,johnson would remark as a specially good hater4 ,but his laughter seems to pour from him in floods2 he heaps all manner of ridiculous nicknames on the butt he is bantering1 tumbles and tosses him in all sorts of horse-play2 you would say1 with his whole heart laughs4 ,and then1 if not always the finest1 it is always a genial laughter4 ,not at mere weakness1 at misery or poverty2 never4 ,no man who can laugh1 what we call laughing1 will laugh at these things4 ,it is some poor character only desiring to laugh1 and have the credit of wit1 that does so4 ,laughter means sympathy2 good laughter is not the crackling of thorns under the pot4 ,even at stupidity and pretension this ,shakespeare does not laugh otherwise than genially4 ,dogberry and ,verges tickle our very hearts2 and we dismiss them covered with explosions of laughter3 but we like the poor fellows only the better for our laughing2 and hope they will get on well there1 and continue ,presidents of the ,city-watch4 ,such laughter1 like sunshine on the deep sea1 is very beautiful to me4 ,we have no room to speak of ,shakespeare's individual works2 though perhaps there is much still waiting to be said on that head4 ,had we1 for instance1 all his plays reviewed as ,hamlet1 in ,wilhelm ,meister1 is6 ,a thing which might1 one day1 be done4 ,august ,wilhelm ,schlegel has a remark on his ,historical ,plays1 ,henry ,fifth and the others1 which is worth remembering4 ,he calls them a kind of ,national ,epic4 ,marlborough1 you recollect1 said1 he knew no ,english ,history but what he had learned from ,shakespeare4 ,there are really1 if we look to it1 few as memorable ,histories4 ,the great salient points are admirably seized2 all rounds itself off1 into a kind of rhythmic coherence2 it is1 as ,schlegel says1 epic2--as indeed all delineation by a great thinker will be4 ,there are right beautiful things in those ,pieces1 which indeed together form one beautiful thing4 ,that battle of ,agincourt strikes me as one of the most perfect things1 in its sort1 we anywhere have of ,shakespeare's4 ,the description of the two hosts3 the wornout1 jaded ,english2 the dread hour1 big with destiny1 when the battle shall begin2 and then that deathless valour3 ,ye good yeomen1 whose limbs were made in ,england6 ,there is a noble ,patriotism in it--far other than the indifference you sometimes hear ascribed to ,shakespeare4 ,a true ,english heart breathes1 calm and strong1 through the whole business2 not boisterous1 protrusive2 all the better for that4 ,there is a sound in it like the ring of steel4 ,this man too had a right stroke in him1 had it come to that6 ,but ,i will say1 of ,shakespeare's works generally1 that we have no full impress of him there2 even as full as we have of many men4 ,his works are so many windows1 through which we see a glimpse of the world that was in him4 ,all his works seem1 comparatively speaking1 cursory1 imperfect1 written under cramping circumstances2 giving only here and there a note of the full utterance of the man4 ,passages there are that come upon you like splendour out of ,heaven2 bursts of radiance1 illuminating the very heart of the thing3 you say1 ,that is true1 spoken once and forever2 wheresoever and whensoever there is an open human soul1 that will be recognised as true6 ,such bursts1 however1 make us feel that the surrounding matter is not radiant2 that it is in part1 temporary1 conventional4 ,alas1 ,shakespeare had to write for the ,globe ,playhouse3 his great soul had to crush itself1 as it could1 into that and no other mould4 ,it was with him1 then1 as it is with us all4 ,no man works save under conditions4 ,the sculptor1 cannot set his own free ,thought before us2 but his ,thought as he could translate it into the stone that was given1 with the tools that were given4 ,disjecta membra#hc are all that we find of any ,poet1 or of any man4 ,whoever looks intelligently at this ,shakespeare may recognise that he too was a ,prophet1 in his way2 of an insight analogous to the ,prophetic1 though he took it up in another strain4 ,nature seemed to this man also divine2 unspeakable1 deep as ,tophet1 high as ,heaven3 ,we are such stuff as ,dreams are made of6 ,that scroll in ,westminster ,abbey1#hd which few read with understanding1 is of the depth of any seer4 ,but the man sang2 did not preach1 except musically4 ,we called ,dante the melodious ,priest of ,middle-,age ,catholicism4 ,may we not call ,shakespeare the still more melodious ,priest of a true ,catholicism1 the ,universal ,church of the ,future and of all times8 ,no narrow superstition1 harsh asceticism1 intolerance1 fanatical fierceness or perversion3 a ,revelation1 so far as it goes1 that such a thousandfold hidden beauty and divineness dwells in all ,nature2 which let all men worship as they can6 ,we may say without offence1 that there rises a kind of universal ,psalm out of this ,shakespeare too2 not unfit to make itself heard among the still more sacred ,psalms4 ,not in disharmony with these1 if we understood them1 but in harmony6--,i cannot call this ,shakespeare a ,sceptic1 as some do2 his indifference to the creeds and theological quarrels of his time misleading them4 ,no3 neither unpatriotic1 though he says little about his ,patriotism2 nor sceptic1 though he says little about his ,faith4 ,such indifference was the fruit of his greatness withal3 his whole heart was in his own grand sphere of worship 7we may call it such72 these other controversies1 vitally important to other men1 were not vital to him4 ,but call it worship1 call it what you will1 is it not a right glorious thing1 and set of things1 this that ,shakespeare has brought us8 ,for myself1 ,i feel that there is actually a kind of sacredness in the fact of such a man being sent into this ,earth4 ,is he not an eye to us all2 a blessed heaven-sent ,bringer of ,light8--and1 at bottom1 was it not perhaps far better that this ,shakespeare1 everyway an unconscious man1 was conscious of no ,heavenly message8 ,he did not feel1 like ,mahomet1 because he saw into those internal ,splendours1 that he specially was the ,prophet of ,god3 and was he not greater than ,mahomet in that8 ,greater2 and also1 if we compute strictly1 as we did in ,dante's case1 more successful4 ,it was intrinsically an error that notion of ,mahomet's1 of his supreme ,prophethood2 and has come down to us inextricably involved in error to this day2 dragging along with it such a coil of fables1 impurities1 intolerances1 as makes it a questionable step for me here and now to say1 as ,i have done1 that ,mahomet was a true ,speaker at all1 and not rather an ambitious charlatan1 perversity and simulacrum2 no ,speaker1 but a ,babbler6 ,even in ,arabia1 as ,i compute1 ,mahomet will have exhausted himself and become obsolete1 while this ,shakespeare1 this ,dante may still be young2--while this ,shakespeare may still pretend to be a ,priest of ,mankind1 of ,arabia as of other places1 for unlimited periods to come6 ,compared with any speaker or singer one knows1 even with ,aeschylus or ,homer1 why should he not1 for veracity and universality1 last like them8 ,he is sincere as they2 reaches deep down like them1 to the universal and perennial4 ,but as for ,mahomet1 ,i think it had been better for him not to be so conscious6 ,alas1 poor ,mahomet2 all that he was conscious of was a mere error2 a futility and triviality--as indeed such ever is4 ,the truly great in him too was the unconscious3 that he was a wild ,arab lion of the desert1 and did speak-out with that great thunder-voice of his1 not by words which he thought to be great1 but by actions1 by feelings1 by a history which were great6 ,his ,koran has become a stupid piece of prolix absurdity2 we do not believe1 like him that ,god wrote that6 ,the ,great ,man here too1 as always' is a ,force of ,nature3 whatsoever is truly great in him springs-up from the inarticulate deeps4 ,well3 this is our poor ,warwickshire ,peasant1 who rose to be ,manager of a ,playhouse1 so that he could live without begging2 whom the ,earl of ,southampton cast some kind glances on2 whom ,sir ,thomas ,lucy1 many thanks to him1 was for sending to the ,treadmill6 ,we did not account him a god1 like ,odin1 while he dwelt with us2--on which point there were much to be said4 ,but ,i will say rather1 or repeat3 ,in spite of the sad state ,hero-worship now lies in1 consider what this ,shakespeare has actually become among us4 ,which ,englishman we ever made1 in this land of ours1 which million of ,englishmen1 would we not give-up rather than the ,stratford ,peasant8 ,there is no regiment of highest ,dignitaries that we would sell him for4 ,he is the grandest thing we have yet done4 ,for our honour among foreign nations1 as an ornament to our ,english ,household1 what item is there that we would not surrender rather than him8 ,consider now1 if they asked us1 ,will you give-up your ,indian ,empire or your ,shakespeare1 you ,english2 never have had any ,indian ,empire1 or never have had any ,shakespeare8 ,really it were a grave question4 ,official persons would answer doubtless in official language2 but we1 for our part too1 should not we be forced to answer3 ,indian ,empire1 or no ,indian ,empire2 we cannot do without ,shakespeare6 ,indian ,empire will go1 at any rate1 some day2 but this ,shakespeare does not go1 he lasts forever with us2 we cannot give-up our ,shakespeare6 ,nay1 apart from spiritualities2 and considering him merely as a real1 marketable1 tangibly-useful possession4 ,england1 before long1 this ,island of ours1 will hold but a small fraction of the ,english3 in ,america1 in ,new ,holland1#he east and west to the very ,antipodes1 there will be a ,saxondom covering great spaces of the ,globe4 ,and now1 what is it that can keep all these together into virtually one ,nation1 so that they do not fall-out and fight1 but live at peace1 in brotherlike intercourse1 helping one another8 ,this is justly regarded as the greatest practical problem1 the thing all manner of sovereignties and governments are here to accomplish3 what is it that will accomplish this8 ,acts of ,parliament1 administrative prime-ministers cannot4 ,america is parted from us1 so far as ,parliament could part it4 ,call it not fantastic1 for there is much reality in it3 ,here1 ,i say1 is an ,english ,king1 whom no time or chance1 ,parliament or combination of ,parliaments1 can dethrone6 ,this ,king ,shakespeare1 does not he shine1 in crowned sovereignty1 over us all1 as the noblest1 gentlest1 yet strongest of rallying-signs2 indestructible2 really more valuable in that point of view than any other means or appliance whatsoever8 ,we can fancy him as radiant aloft over all the ,nations of ,englishmen1 a thousand years hence4 ,from ,paramatta1 from ,new ,york1 wheresoever1 under what sort of ,parish-,constable soever1 ,english men and women are1 they will say to one another3 ,yes1 this ,shakespeare is ours2 we produced him1 we speak and think by him2 we are of one blood and kind with him4 ,the most common-sense politician1 too1 if he pleases1 may think of that4 ,yes1 truly1 it is a great thing for a ,nation that it get an articulate voice2 that it produce a man who will speak-forth melodiously what the heart of it means6 ,italy1 for example1 poor ,italy lies dismembered1 scattered asunder1 not appearing in any protocol or treaty as a unity at all2 yet the noble ,italy is actually one3 ,italy produced its ,dante2 ,italy can speak6 ,the ,czar of all the ,russias1 he is strong1 with so many bayonets1 ,cossacks and cannons2 and does a great feat in keeping such a tract of ,earth politically together2 but he cannot yet speak4 ,something great in him1 but it is a dumb greatness4 ,he has had no voice of genius1 to be heard of all men and times4 ,he must learn to speak4 ,he is a great dumb monster hitherto4 ,his cannons and ,cossacks will all have rusted into nonentity1 while that ,dante's voice is still audible4 ,the ,nation that has a ,dante is bound together as no dumb ,russia can be4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #ha3 ,from ,lecture ,,iii1 ,the ,hero as ,poet1 in ,heroes and ,hero-,worship1 #ahda4 ,footnote #hb3 ,st4 ,stephen's3 ,house of ,commons4 ,footnote #hc3 ,scattered pieces4 ,footnote #hd3 ,the passage in ,shakespeare's ,tempest from which the words quoted in the preceding sentence are taken1 is inscribed on the scroll in the hand of ,shakespeare's statue in ,westminster ,abbey4 ,footnote #he3 ,new ,holland3 ,australia4 ,,charles ,,lamb#hf ,,walter ,,pater ,those ,english critics who at the beginning of the present century introduced from ,germany1 together with some other subtleties of thought transplanted hither not without advantage1 the distinction between the ,fancy and the ,imagination1 made much also of the cognate distinction between ,wit and ,humour1 between that unreal and transitory mirth1 which is as the crackling of thorns under the pot1 and the laughter which blends with tears and even with the sublimities of the imagination1 and which1 in its most exquisite motives1 is one with pity--the laughter of the comedies of ,shakespeare1 hardly less expressive than his moods of seriousness or solemnity1 of that deeply stirred soul of sympathy in him1 as flowing from which both tears and laughter are alike genuine and contagious4 ,this distinction between wit and humour1 ,coleridge and other kindred critics applied1 with much effect1 in their studies of some of our older ,english writers4 ,and as the distinction between imagination and fancy1 made popular by ,wordsworth1 found its best justification in certain essential differences of stuff in ,wordsworth's own writings1 so this other critical distinction1 between wit and humour1 finds a sort of visible interpretation and instance in the character and writings of ,charles ,lamb2--one who lived more consistently than most writers among subtle literary theories1 and whose remains are still full of curious interest for the student of literature as a fine art4 ,the author of the ,english ,humourists of the ,eighteenth ,century1 coming to the humourists of the nineteenth1 would have found1 as is true pre-eminently of ,thackeray himself1 the springs of pity in them deepened by the deeper subjectivity1 the intenser and closer living with itself1 which is characteristic of the temper of the later generation2 and therewith1 the mirth also1 from the amalgam of which with pity humour proceeds1 has become1 in ,charles ,dickens1 for example1 freer and more boisterous4 ,to this more high-pitched feeling1 since predominant in our literature1 the writings of ,charles ,lamb1 whose life occupies the last quarter of the eighteenth century and the first quarter of the nineteenth1 are a transition2 and such union of grave1 of terrible even1 with gay1 we may note in the circumstances of his life1 as reflected thence into his work4 ,we catch the aroma of a singular1 homely sweetness about his first years1 spent on ,thames' side1 amid the red bricks and terraced gardens1 with their rich historical memories of old-fashioned legal ,london4 ,just above the poorer class1 deprived1 as he says1 of the sweet food of academic institution1 he is fortunate enough to be reared in the classical languages at an ancient school1 where he becomes the companion of ,coleridge1 as at a later period he was his enthusiastic disciple4 ,so far1 the years go by with less than the usual share of boyish difficulties2 protected1 one fancies1 seeing what he was afterwards1 by some attraction of temper in the quaint child1 small and delicate1 with a certain ,jewish expression in his clear1 brown complexion1 eyes not precisely of the same colour1 and a slow walk adding to the staidness of his figure2 and whose infirmity of speech1 increased by agitation1 is partly engaging4 ,and the cheerfulness of all this1 of the mere aspect of ,lamb's quiet subsequent life also1 might make the more superficial reader think of him as in himself something slight1 and of his mirth as cheaply bought4 ,yet we know that beneath this blithe surface there was something of the fateful domestic horror1 of the beautiful heroism and devotedness too1 of old ,greek tragedy4 ,his sister ,mary1 ten years his senior1 in a sudden paroxysm of madness1 caused the death of her mother1 and was brought to trial for what an overstrained justice might have construed as the greatest of crimes4 ,she was released on the brother's pledging himself to watch over her2 and to this sister1 from the age of twenty-one1 ,charles ,lamb sacrificed himself1 seeking thenceforth1 says his earliest biographer1 no connection which could interfere with her supremacy in his affections1 or impair his ability to sustain and comfort her4 ,the feverish1 romantic tie of love he cast away in exchange for the charities of home4 ,only1 from time to time1 the madness returned1 affecting him too1 once2 and we see the brother and sister voluntarily yielding to restraint4 ,in estimating the humour of ,elia1 we must no more forget the strong undercurrent of this great misfortune and pity1 than one could forget it in his actual story4 ,so he becomes the best critic1 almost the discoverer1 of ,webster1 a dramatist of genius so sombre1 so heavily coloured1 so macabre4#hg ,rosamund ,grey written in his twenty-third year1 a story with something bitter and exaggerated1 an almost insane fixedness of gloom perceptible in it1 strikes clearly this note in his work4 ,for himself1 and from his own point of view1 the exercise of his gift1 of his literary art1 came to gild or sweeten a life of monotonous labour1 and seemed1 as far as regarded others1 no very important thing2 availing to give them a little pleasure1 and inform them a little1 chiefly in a retrospective manner1 but in no way concerned with the turning of the tides of the great world4 ,and yet this very modesty1 this unambitious way of conceiving his work1 has impressed upon it a certain exceptional enduringness4 ,for of the remarkable ,english writers contemporary with ,lamb1 many were greatly preoccupied with ideas of practice--religious1 moral1 political--ideas which have since1 in some sense or other1 entered permanently into the general consciousness2 and1 these having no longer any stimulus for a generation provided with a different stock of ideas1 the writings of those who spent so much of themselves in their propagation have lost1 with posterity1 something of what they gained by them in immediate influence4 ,coleridge1 ,wordsworth1 ,shelley even--sharing so largely in the unrest of their own age1 and made personally more interesting thereby1 yet1 of their actual work1 surrender more to the mere course of time than some of those who may have seemed to exercise themselves hardly at all in great matters1 to have been little serious1 or a little indifferent1 regarding them4 ,of this number of the disinterested servants of literature1 smaller in ,england than in ,france1 ,charles ,lamb is one4 ,in the making of prose he realises the principle of art for its own sake1 as completely as ,keats in the making of verse4 ,and1 working ever close to the concrete1 to the details1 great or small1 of actual things1 books1 persons1 and with no part of them blurred to his vision by the intervention of mere abstract theories1 he has reached an enduring moral effect also1 in a sort of boundless sympathy4 ,unoccupied1 as he might seem1 with great matters1 he is in immediate contact with what is real1 especially in its caressing littleness1 that littleness in which there is much of the whole woeful heart of things1 and meets it more than half-way with a perfect understanding of it4 ,what sudden1 unexpected touches of pathos in him6--bearing witness how the sorrow of humanity1 the ,weltschmerz1 the constant aching of its wounds1 is ever present with him3 but what a gift also for the enjoyment of life in its subtleties1 of enjoyment actually refined by the need of some thoughtful economies and making the most of things6 ,little arts of happiness he is ready to teach to others4 ,the quaint remarks of children which another would scarcely have heard1 he preserves--little flies in the priceless amber of his ,attic wit--and has his ,praise of chimney-sweepers 7as ,william ,blake has written1 with so much natural pathos1 the ,chimney-sweeper's ,song71 valuing carefully their white teeth1 and fine enjoyment of white sheets in stolen sleep at ,arundel ,castle1 as he tells the story1 anticipating something of the mood of our deep humourists of the last generation4 ,his simple mother-pity for those who suffer by accident1 or unkindness of nature1 blindness for instance1 or fateful disease of mind like his sister's1 has something primitive in its largeness2 and on behalf of ill-used animals he is early in composing a ,pity's ,gift4 ,and if1 in deeper or more superficial sense1 the dead do care at all for their name and fame1 then how must the souls of ,shakespeare and ,webster have been stirred1 after so long converse with things that stopped their ears1 whether above or below the soil1 at his exquisite appreciations of them2 the souls of ,titian and of ,hogarth too2 for1 what has not been observed so generally as the excellence of his literary criticism1 ,charles ,lamb is a fine critic of painting also4 ,it was as loyal1 self-forgetful work for others1 for ,shakespeare's self first1 for instance1 and then for ,shakespeare's readers1 that that too was done3 he has the true scholar's way of forgetting himself in his subject4 ,for though defrauded1 as we saw1 in his young years1 of the sweet food of academic institution1 he is yet essentially a scholar1 and all his work mainly retrospective1 as ,i said2 his own sorrows1 affections1 perceptions1 being alone real to him of the present4 ,i cannot make these present times1 he says once1 present to me4 ,above all1 he becomes not merely an expositor1 permanently valuable1 but for ,englishmen almost the discoverer of the old ,english drama4 ,the book is such as ,i am glad there should be1 he modestly says of the ,specimens of ,english ,dramatic ,poets who lived about the time of ,shakespeare2 to which1 however1 he adds in a series of notes the very quintessence of criticism1 the choicest savour and perfume of ,elizabethan poetry being sorted1 and stored here1 with a sort of delicate intellectual epicureanism1 which has had the effect of winning for these1 then almost forgotten1 poets1 one generation after another of enthusiastic students4 ,could he but have known how fresh a source of culture he was evoking there for other generations1 through all those years in which1 a little wistfully1 he would harp on the limitation of his time by business1 and sigh for a better fortune in regard to literary opportunities6 ,to feel strongly the charm of an old poet or moralist1 the literary charm of ,burton1 for instance1 or ,quarles1 or ,the ,duchess of ,newcastle2 and then to interpret that charm1 to convey it to others--he seeming to himself but to hand on to others1 in mere humble ministration1 that of which for them he is really the creator--this is the way of his criticism2 cast off in a stray letter often1 or passing note1 or lightest essay or conversation4 ,it is in such a letter1 for instance1 that we come upon a singularly penetrative estimate of the genius and writings of ,defoe4 ,tracking1 with an attention always alert1 the whole process of their production to its starting-point in the deep places of the mind1 he seems to realise the but half-conscious intuitions of ,hogarth or ,shakespeare1 and develops the great ruling unities which have swayed their actual work2 or puts up1 and takes1 the one morsel of good stuff in an old1 forgotten writer4 ,even in what he says casually there comes an aroma of old ,english2 noticeable echoes1 in chance turn and phrase1 of the great masters of style1 the old masters4 ,godwin1 seeing in quotation a passage from ,john ,woodvil1 takes it for a choice fragment of an old dramatist1 and goes to ,lamb to assist him in finding the author4 ,his power of delicate imitation in prose and verse reaches the length of a fine mimicry even1 as in those last essays of ,elia on ,popular ,fallacies1 with their gentle reproduction or caricature of ,sir ,thomas ,browne1 showing1 the more completely1 his mastery1 by disinterested study1 of those elements of the man which were the real source of style in that great1 solemn master of old ,english1 who1 ready to say what he has to say with fearless homeliness1 yet continually overawes one with touches of a strange utterance from worlds afar4 ,for it is with the delicacies of fine literature especially1 its gradations of expression1 its fine judgment1 its pure sense of words1 of vocabulary--things1 alas6 dying out in the ,english literature of the present1 together with the appreciation of them in our literature of the past--that his literary mission is chiefly concerned4 ,and yet1 delicate1 refining1 daintily epicurean1 as he may seem1 when he writes of giants such as ,hogarth or ,shakespeare1 though often but in a stray note1 you catch the sense of veneration with which those great names in past literature and art brooded over his intelligence1 his undiminished impressibility by the great effects in them4 ,reading1 commenting on ,shakespeare1 he is like a man who walks alone under a grand stormy sky1 and among unwonted tricks of light1 when powerful spirits might seem to be abroad upon the air2 and the grim humour of ,hogarth1 as he analyses it1 rises into a kind of spectral grotesque2 while he too knows the secret of fine1 significant touches like theirs4 ,there are traits1 customs1 characteristics of houses and dress1 surviving morsels of old life1 such as ,hogarth has transferred so vividly into ,the ,rake's ,progress1 or ,marriage a la ,mode1 concerning which we well understand how1 common1 uninteresting1 or even worthless in themselves1 they have come to please us at last as things picturesque1 being set in relief against the modes of our different age4 ,customs1 stiff to us1 stiff dresses1 stiff furniture--types of cast-off fashions1 left by accident1 and which no one ever meant to preserve--we contemplate with more than good-nature1 as having in them the veritable accent of a time1 not altogether to be replaced by its more solemn and self-conscious deposits2 like those tricks of individuality which we find quite tolerable in persons1 because they convey to us the secret of lifelike expression1 and with regard to which we are all to some extent humourists4 ,but it is part of the privilege of the genuine humourists to anticipate this pensive mood with regard to the ways and things of his own day2 to look upon the tricks in manner of the life about him with that same refined1 purged sort of vision1 which will come naturally to those of a later generation1 in observing whatever may have survived by chance of its mere external habit4 ,seeing things always by the light of an understanding more entire than is possible for ordinary minds1 of the whole mechanism of humanity1 and seeing also the manner1 the outward mode or fashion1 always in strict connection with the spiritual condition which determined it1 a humourist such as ,charles ,lamb anticipates the enchantment of distance2 and the characteristics of places1 ranks1 habits of life1 are transfigured for him1 even now and in advance of time1 by poetic light2 justifying what some might condemn as mere sentimentality1 in the effort to hand on unbroken the tradition of such fashion or accent4 ,the praise of beggars1 the cries of ,london1 the traits of actors just grown old1 the spots in town where the country1 its fresh green and fresh water1 still lingered on1 one after another1 amidst the bustle2 the quaint1 dimmed1 just played-out farces1 he had relished so much1 coming partly through them to understand the earlier ,english theatre as a thing once really alive2 those fountains and sundials of old gardens1 of which he entertains such dainty discourse3--he feels the poetry of these things1 as the poetry of things old indeed1 but surviving as an actual part of the life of the present1 and as something quite different from the poetry of things flatly gone from us and antique1 which come back to us1 if at all1 as entire strangers1 like ,scott's old ,scotch-border personages1 their oaths and armour4 ,such gift of appreciation depends1 as ,i said1 on the habitual apprehension of men's life as a whole--its organic wholeness1 as extending even to the least things in it--of its outward manner in connection with its inward temper2 and it involves a fine perception of the congruities1 the musical accordance between humanity and its environment of custom1 society1 personal intercourse2 as if all this1 with its meetings1 partings1 ceremonies1 gesture1 tones of speech1 were some delicate instrument on which an expert performer is playing4 ,these are some of the characteristics of ,elia1 one essentially an essayist1 and of the true family of ,montaigne1 never judging1 as he says1 system-wise of things1 but fastening on particulars2 saying all things as it were on chance occasion only1 and by way of pastime1 yet succeeding thus1 glimpse-wise1 in catching and recording more frequently than others the gayest1 happiest attitude of things2 a casual writer for dreamy readers1 yet always giving the reader so much more than he seemed to propose4 ,there is something of the follower of ,george ,fox about him1 and the ,quaker's belief in the inward light coming to one passive1 to the mere wayfarer1 who will be sure at all events to lose no light which falls by the way--glimpses1 suggestions1 delightful half-apprehensions1 profound thoughts of old philosophers1 hints of the innermost reason in things1 the full knowledge of which is held in reserve2 all the varied stuff1 that is1 of which genuine essays are made4 ,and with him1 as with ,montaigne1 the desire of self-portraiture is1 below all more superficial tendencies1 the real motive in writing at all--a desire closely connected with that intimacy1 that modern subjectivity1 which may be called the ,montaignesque element in literature4 ,what he designs is to give you himself1 to acquaint you with his likeness2 but must do this1 if at all1 indirectly1 being indeed always more or less reserved1 for himself and his friends2 friendship counting for so much in his life1 that he is jealous of anything that might jar or disturb it1 even to the length of a sort of insincerity1 to which he assigns its quaint praise2 this lover of stage plays significantly welcoming a little touch of the artificiality of play to sweeten the intercourse of actual life4 ,and1 in effect1 a very delicate and expressive portrait of him does put itself together for the duly meditative reader4 ,in indirect touches of his own work1 scraps of faded old letters1 what others remembered of his talk1 the man's likeness emerges2 what he laughed and wept at1 his sudden elevations1 and longings after absent friends1 his fine casuistries of affection and devices to jog sometimes1 as he says1 the lazy happiness of perfect love1 his solemn moments of higher discourse with the young1 as they came across him on occasion1 and went along a little way with him1 the sudden surprised apprehension of beauties in old literature1 revealing anew the deep soul of poetry in things1 and withal the pure spirit of fun1 having its way again2 laughter1 that most short-lived of all things 7some of ,shakespeare's even being grown hollow7 wearing well with him4 ,much of all this comes out through his letters1 which may be regarded as a department of his essays4 ,he is an old-fashioned letter-writer1 the essence of the old fashion of letter-writing lying1 as with true essay-writing1 in the dexterous availing oneself of accident and circumstance1 in the prosecution of deeper lines of observation2 although1 just as with the record of his conversation1 one loses something1 in losing the actual tones of the stammerer1 still graceful in his halting1 as he halted also in composition1 composing slowly and by fits1 like a ,flemish painter1 as he tells us1 so it is to be regretted1 says the editor of his letters1 that in the printed letters the reader will lose the curious varieties of writing with which the originals abound1 and which are scrupulously adapted to the subject4 ,also1 he was a true collector1 delighting in the personal finding of a thing1 in the colour an old book or print gets for him by the little accidents which attest previous ownership4 ,wither's ,emblems1 that old book and quaint1 long-desired1 when he finds it at last1 he values none the less because a child had coloured the plates with his paints4 ,a lover of household warmth everywhere1 of that tempered atmosphere which our various habitations get by men's living within them1 he sticks to his favourite books as he did to his friends1 and loved the town1 with a jealous eye for all its characteristics1 old houses coming to have souls for him4 ,the yearning for mere warmth against him in another1 makes him content1 all through life1 with pure brotherliness1 the most kindly and natural species of love1 as he says1 in place of the passion of love4 ,brother and sister1 sitting thus side by side1 have1 of course1 their anticipations how one of them must sit at last in the faint sun alone1 and set us speculating1 as we read1 as to precisely what amount of melancholy really accompanied for him the approach of old age1 so steadily foreseen2 make us note also with pleasure1 his successive wakings up to cheerful realities1 out of a too curious musing over what is gone and what remains1 of life4 ,in his subtle capacity for enjoying the more refined points of earth1 of human relationship1 he could throw the gleam of poetry or humour on what seemed common or threadbare2 has a care for the sighs1 and the weary1 humdrum preoccupations of very weak people1 down to their little pathetic gentilities1 even2 while1 in the purely human temper1 he can write of death1 almost like ,shakespeare4 ,and that care1 through all his enthusiasm of discovery1 for what is accustomed1 in literature1 connected thus with his close clinging to home and the earth1 was congruous also with that love for the accustomed in religion1 which we may notice in him4 ,he is one of the last votaries of that old-world sentiment1 based on the feelings of hope and awe1 which may be described as the religion of men of letters 7as ,sir ,thomas ,browne has his ,religion of the ,physician71 religion as understood by the soberer men of letters in the last century1 ,addison1 ,gray1 and ,johnson2 by ,jane ,austen and ,thackeray1 later4 ,a high way of feeling developed largely by constant intercourse with the great things of literature1 and extended in its turn to those matters greater still1 this religion lives1 in the main retrospectively1 in a system of received sentiments and beliefs2 received1 like those great things of literature and art1 in the first instance1 on the authority of a long tradition1 in the course of which they have linked themselves in a thousand complex ways to the conditions of human life1 and no more questioned now than the feeling one keeps by one of the greatness--say6 of ,shakespeare4 ,for ,charles ,lamb1 such form of religion becomes the solemn background on which the nearer and more exciting objects of his immediate experience relieve themselves1 borrowing from it an expression of calm2 its necessary atmosphere being indeed a profound quiet1 that quiet which has in it a kind of sacramental efficacy1 working1 we might say1 on the principle of the opus operatum1#hh almost without any co-operation of one's own1 towards the assertion of the higher self4 ,and1 in truth1 to men of ,lamb's delicately attuned temperament mere physical stillness has its full value2 such natures seeming to long for it sometimes1 as for no merely negative thing1 with a sort of mystical sensuality4 ,the writings of ,charles ,lamb are an excellent illustration of the value of reserve in literature4 ,below his quiet1 his quaintness1 his humour1 and what may seem the slightness1 the occasional or accidental character of his work1 there lies1 as ,i said at starting1 as in his life1 a genuinely tragic element4 ,the gloom1 reflected at its darkest in those hard shadows of ,rosamund ,grey1 is always there1 though not always realised either for himself or his readers1 and restrained always in utterance4 ,it gives to those lighter matters on the surface of life and literature among which he for the most part moved1 a wonderful force of expression1 as if at any moment these slight words and fancies might pierce very far into the deeper soul of things4 ,in his writing1 as in his life1 that quiet is not the low-flying of one from the first drowsy by choice1 and needing the prick of some strong passion or worldly ambition1 to stimulate him into all the energy of which he is capable2 but rather the reaction of nature1 after an escape from fate1 dark and insane as in old ,greek tragedy1 following upon which the sense of mere relief becomes a kind of passion1 as with one who1 having narrowly escaped earthquake or shipwreck1 finds a thing for grateful tears in just sitting quiet at home1 under the wall1 till the end of days4 ,he felt the genius of places2 and ,i sometimes think he resembles the places he knew and liked best1 and where his lot fell--,london1 sixty-five years ago1 with ,covent ,garden and the old theatres1 and the ,temple gardens still unspoiled1 ,thames gliding down1 and beyond to north and south the fields at ,enfield or ,hampton1 to which1 with their living trees1 the thoughts wander from the hard wood of the desk--fields fresher1 and coming nearer to town then1 but in one of which the present writer remembers1 on a brooding early summer's day1 to have heard the cuckoo for the first time4 ,here1 the surface of things is certainly humdrum1 the streets dingy1 the green places1 where the child goes a-maying1 tame enough4 ,but nowhere are things more apt to respond to the brighter weather1 nowhere is there so much difference between rain and sunshine1 nowhere do the clouds roll together more grandly2 those quaint suburban pastorals gather a certain quality of grandeur from the background of the great city1 with its weighty atmosphere1 and portent of storm in the rapid light on dome and bleached stone steeples4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #hf3 ,from ,appreciations1 #ahhi4 ,footnote #hg3 ,macabre3 very grim4 ,footnote #hh3 ,opus operatum 7a phrase from ,catholic theology73 the work performed through the sacraments--baptism1 confirmation1 etc4--the efficacy of which is not dependent on the participants4 ,,dr4 ,,heidegger',s ,,experiment#hi ,,nathaniel ,,hawthorne ,that very singular man1 old ,dr4 ,heidegger1 once invited four venerable friends to meet him in his study4 ,there were three white-bearded gentlemen1 ,mr4 ,medbourne1 ,colonel ,killigrew1 and ,mr4 ,gascoigne1 and a withered gentlewoman1 whose name was the ,widow ,wycherly4 ,they were all melancholy old creatures1 who had been unfortunate in life1 and whose greatest misfortune it was1 that they were not long ago in their graves4 ,mr4 ,medbourne1 in the vigor of his age1 had been a prosperous merchant1 but had lost his all by a frantic speculation1 and was now little better than a mendicant4 ,colonel ,killigrew had wasted his best years1 and his health and substance1 in the pursuit of sinful pleasures1 which had given birth to a brood of pains1 such as the gout1 and divers other torments of soul and body4 ,mr4 ,gascoigne was a ruined politician1 a man of evil fame1 or at least had been so1 till time had buried him from the knowledge of the present generation1 and made him obscure instead of infamous4 ,as for the ,widow ,wycherly1 tradition tells us that she was a great beauty in her day2 but1 for a long while past1 she had lived in deep seclusion1 on account of certain scandalous stories1 which had prejudiced the gentry of the town against her4 ,it is a circumstance worth mentioning1 that each of these three old gentlemen1 ,mr4 ,medbourne1 ,colonel ,killigrew1 and ,mr4 ,gascoigne1 were early lovers of the ,widow ,wycherly1 and had once been on the point of cutting each others' throats for her sake4 ,and1 before proceeding further1 ,i will merely hint1 that ,dr4 ,heidegger and all his four guests were sometimes thought to be a little beside themselves2 as is not unfrequently the case with old people1 when worried either by present troubles or woeful recollections4 ,my dear old friends1 said ,dr4 ,heidegger1 motioning them to be seated1 ,i am desirous of your assistance in one of those little experiments with which ,i amuse myself here in my study4 ,if all stories were true1 ,dr4 ,heidegger's study must have been a very curious place4 ,it was a dim1 old-fashioned chamber festooned with cobwebs1 and besprinkled with antique dust4 ,around the walls stood several oaken bookcases1 the lower shelves of which were filled with rows of gigantic folios1 and black-letter quartos1 and the upper with little parchment-covered duodecimos4 ,over the central bookcase was a bronze bust of ,hippocrates1 with which1 according to some authorities1 ,dr4 ,heidegger was accustomed to hold consultations1 in all difficult cases of his practice4 ,in the obscurest corner of the room stood a tall and narrow oaken closet1 with its door ajar1 within which doubtfully appeared a skeleton4 ,between two of the bookcases hung a looking-glass1 presenting its high and dusty plate within a tarnished gilt frame4 ,among many wonderful stories related of this mirror1 it was fabled that the spirits of all the doctor's deceased patients dwelt within its verge1 and would stare him in the face whenever he looked thitherward4 ,the opposite side of the chamber was ornamented with the full-length portrait of a young lady1 arrayed in the faded magnificence of silk1 satin1 and brocade1 and with a visage as faded as her dress4 ,above half a century ago ,dr4 ,heidegger had been on the point of marriage with this young lady2 but1 being affected with some slight disorder1 she had swallowed one of her lover's prescriptions1 and died on the bridal evening4 ,the greatest curiosity of the study remains to be mentioned2 it was a ponderous folio volume1 bound in black leather1 with massive silver clasps4 ,there were no letters on the back1 and nobody could tell the title of the book4 ,but it was well known to be a book of magic2 and once1 when a chambermaid had lifted it1 merely to brush away the dust1 the skeleton had rattled in its closet1 the picture of the young lady had stepped one foot upon the floor1 and several ghastly faces had peeped forth from the mirror2 while the brazen head of ,hippocrates frowned1 and said--,forbear6 ,such was ,dr4 ,heidegger's study4 ,on the summer afternoon of our tale1 a small round table1 as black as ebony1 stood in the center of the room sustaining a cut-glass vase of beautiful form and elaborate workmanship4 ,the sunshine came through the window1 between the heavy festoons of two faded damask curtains1 and fell directly across this vase1 so that a mild splendor was reflected from it on the ashen visages of the five old people who sat around4 ,four champagne glasses were also on the table4 ,my dear old friends1 repeated ,dr4 ,heidegger1 may ,i reckon on your aid in performing an exceedingly curious experiment8 ,now ,dr4 ,heidegger was a very strange old gentleman1 whose eccentricity had become the nucleus for a thousand fantastic stories4 ,some of these fables1 to my shame be it spoken1 might possibly be traced back to mine own veracious self2 and if any passage of the present tale should startle the reader's faith1 ,i must be content to bear the stigma of a fiction monger4 ,when the doctor's four guests heard him talk of his proposed experiment1 they anticipated nothing more wonderful than the murder of a mouse in an air pump1 or the examination of a cobweb by the microscope1 or some similar nonsense1 with which he was constantly in the habit of pestering his intimates4 ,but without waiting for a reply1 ,dr4 ,heidegger hobbled across the chamber1 and returned with the same ponderous folio1 bound in black leather1 which common report affirmed to be a book of magic4 ,undoing the silver clasps1 he opened the volume1 and took from among its black-letter pages a rose1 or what was once a rose1 though now the green leaves and crimson petals had assumed one brownish hue1 and the ancient flower seemed ready to crumble to dust in the doctor's hands4 ,this rose1 said ,dr4 ,heidegger1 with a sigh1 this same withered and crumbling flower1 blossomed five and fifty years ago4 ,it was given me by ,sylvia ,ward1 whose portrait hangs yonder2 and ,i meant to wear it in my bosom at our wedding4 ,five and fifty years it has been treasured between the leaves of this old volume4 ,now1 would you deem it possible that this rose of half a century could ever bloom again8 ,nonsense6 said the ,widow ,wycherly1 with a peevish toss of her head4 ,you might as well ask whether an old woman's wrinkled face could ever bloom again4 ,see6 answered ,dr4 ,heidegger4 ,he uncovered the vase1 and threw the faded rose into the water which it contained4 ,at first1 it lay lightly on the surface of the fluid1 appearing to imbibe none of its moisture4 ,soon1 however1 a singular change began to be visible4 ,the crushed and dried petals stirred1 and assumed a deepening tinge of crimson1 as if the flower were reviving from a death-like slumber2 the slender stalk and twigs of foliage became green2 and there was the rose of half a century1 looking as fresh as when ,sylvia ,ward had first given it to her lover4 ,it was scarcely full blown2 for some of its delicate red leaves curled modestly around its moist bosom1 within which two or three dewdrops were sparkling4 ,that is certainly a very pretty deception1 said the doctor's friends2 carelessly1 however1 for they had witnessed greater miracles at a conjurer's show2 pray how was it effected8 ,did you never hear of the ',fountain of ,youth'8 asked ,dr4 ,heidegger1 which ,ponce ,de ,leon1 the ,spanish adventurer1 went in search of two or three centuries ago8 ,but did ,ponce ,de ,leon ever find it8 said the ,widow ,wycherly4 ,no1 answered ,dr4 ,heidegger1 for he never sought it in the right place4 ,the famous ,fountain of ,youth1 if ,i am rightly informed1 is situated in the southern part of the ,floridian peninsula1 not far from ,lake ,macaco4 ,its source is overshadowed by several gigantic magnolias1 which1 though numberless centuries old1 have been kept as fresh as violets1 by the virtues of this wonderful water4 ,an acquaintance of mine1 knowing my curiosity in such matters1 has sent me what you see in the vase4 ,ahem6 said ,colonel ,killigrew1 who believed not a word of the doctor's story2 and what may be the effect of this fluid on the human frame8 ,you shall judge for yourself1 my dear ,colonel1 replied ,dr4 ,heidegger2 and all of you1 my respected friends1 are welcome to so much of this admirable fluid1 as may restore to you the bloom of youth4 ,for my own part1 having had much trouble in growing old1 ,i am in no hurry to grow young again4 ,with your permission1 therefore1 ,i will merely watch the progress of the experiment44 ,while he spoke1 ,dr4 ,heidegger had been filling the four champagne glasses with the water of the ,fountain of ,youth4 ,it was apparently impregnated with an effervescent gas1 for little bubbles were continually ascending from the depths of the glasses1 and bursting in silvery spray at the surface4 ,as the liquor diffused a pleasant perfume1 the old people doubted not that it possessed cordial and comfortable properties2 and1 though utter sceptics as to its rejuvenescent power1 they were inclined to swallow it at once4 ,but ,dr4 ,heidegger besought them to stay a moment4 ,before you drink1 my respectable old friends1 said he1 it would be well that1 with the experience of a lifetime to direct you1 you should draw up a few general rules for your guidance1 in passing a second time through the perils of youth4 ,think what a sin and shame it would be1 if1 with your peculiar advantages1 you should not become patterns of virtue and wisdom to all the young people of the age6 ,the doctor's four venerable friends made him no answer1 except by a feeble and tremulous laugh2 so very ridiculous was the idea1 that1 knowing how closely repentance treads behind the steps of error1 they should ever go astray again4 ,drink1 then1 said the doctor1 bowing2 ,i rejoice that ,i have so well selected the subjects of my experiment4 ,with palsied hands1 they raised the glasses to their lips4 ,the liquor1 if it really possessed such virtues as ,dr4 ,heidegger imputed to it1 could not have been bestowed on four human beings who needed it more wofully4 ,they looked as if they had never known what youth or pleasure was1 but had been the offspring of ,nature's dotage1 and always the gray1 decrepit1 sapless1 miserable creatures1 who now sat stooping round the doctor's table1 without life enough in their souls or bodies to be animated even by the prospect of growing young again4 ,they drank off the water1 and replaced their glasses on the table4 ,assuredly there was an almost immediate improvement in the aspect of the party1 not unlike what might have been produced by a glass of generous wine1 together with a sudden glow of cheerful sunshine1 brightening over all their visages at once4 ,there was a healthful suffusion on their cheeks1 instead of the ashen hue that had made them look so corpse-like4 ,they gazed at one another1 and fancied that some magic power had really begun to smooth away the deep and sad inscriptions which ,father ,time had been so long engraving on their brows4 ,the ,widow ,wycherly adjusted her cap1 for she felt almost like a woman again4 ,give us more of this wondrous water6 cried they1 eagerly4 ,we are younger--but we are still too old6 ,quick--give us more6 ,patience1 patience6 quoth ,dr4 ,heidegger1 who sat watching the experiment1 with philosophic coolness4 ,you have been a long time growing old4 ,surely1 you might be content to grow young in half an hour6 ,but the water is at your service4 ,again he filled their glasses with the liquor of youth1 enough of which still remained in the vase to turn half the old people in the city to the age of their own grandchildren4 ,while the bubbles were yet sparkling on the brim1 the doctor's four guests snatched their glasses from the table1 and swallowed the contents at a single gulp4 ,was it delusion8 ,even while the draught was passing down their throats1 it seemed to have wrought a change on their whole systems4 ,their eyes grew clear and bright2 a dark shade deepened among their silvery locks2 they sat around the table1 three gentlemen1 of middle age1 and a woman1 hardly beyond her buxom prime4 ,my dear widow1 you are charming6 cried ,colonel ,killigrew1 whose eyes had been fixed upon her face1 while the shadows of age were flitting from it like darkness from the crimson daybreak4 ,the fair widow knew1 of old1 that ,colonel ,killigrew's compliments were not always measured by sober truth2 so she started up and ran to the mirror1 still dreading that the ugly visage of an old woman would meet her gaze4 ,meanwhile1 the three gentlemen behaved in such a manner as proved that the water of the ,fountain of ,youth possessed some intoxicating qualities2 unless1 indeed1 their exhilaration of spirits were merely a lightsome dizziness1 caused by the sudden removal of the weight of years4 ,mr4 ,gascoigne's mind seemed to run on political topics1 but whether relating to the past1 present1 or future1 could not easily be determined1 since the same ideas and phrases have been in vogue these fifty years4 ,now he rattled forth full-throated sentences about patriotism1 national glory1 and the people's right2 now he muttered some perilous stuff or other1 in a sly and doubtful whisper1 so cautiously that even his own conscience could scarcely catch the secret2 and now1 again1 he spoke in measured accents1 and a deeply deferential tone1 as if a royal ear were listening to his well-turned periods4 ,colonel ,killigrew all this time had been trolling forth a jolly bottle song1 and ringing his glass in symphony with the chorus1 while his eyes wandered toward the buxom figure of the ,widow ,wycherly4 ,on the other side of the table1 ,mr4 ,medbourne was involved in a calculation of dollars and cents1 with which was strangely intermingled a project for supplying the ,east ,indies with ice1 by harnessing a team of whales to the polar icebergs4 ,as for the ,widow ,wycherly1 she stood before the mirror courtesying and simpering to her own image1 and greeting it as the friend whom she loved better than all the world beside4 ,she thrust her face close to the glass1 to see whether some long-remembered wrinkle or crow's-foot had indeed vanished4 ,she examined whether the snow had so entirely melted from her hair1 that the venerable cap could be safely thrown aside4 ,at last1 turning briskly away1 she came with a sort of dancing step to the table4 ,my dear old doctor1 cried she1 pray favor me with another glass6 ,certainly1 my dear madam1 certainly6 replied the complaisant doctor2 see6 ,i have already filled the glasses4 ,there1 in fact1 stood the four glasses1 brimful of this wonderful water1 the delicate spray of which1 as it effervesced from the surface1 resembled the tremulous glitter of diamonds4 ,it was now so nearly sunset1 that the chamber had grown duskier than ever2 but a mild and moonlight splendor gleamed from within the vase1 and rested alike on the four guests and on the doctor's venerable figure4 ,he sat in a high-backed1 elaborately-carved1 oaken arm-chair1 with a gray dignity of aspect that might have well befitted that very ,father ,time1 whose power had never been disputed1 save by this fortunate company4 ,even while quaffing the third draught of the ,fountain of ,youth1 they were almost awed by the expression of his mysterious visage4 ,but1 the next moment1 the exhilarating gush of young life shot through their veins4 ,they were now in the happy prime of youth4 ,age1 with its miserable train of cares1 and sorrows1 and diseases1 was remembered only as the trouble of a dream1 from which they had joyously awoke4 ,the fresh gloss of the soul1 so early lost1 and without which the world's successive scenes had been but a gallery of faded pictures1 again threw its enchantment over all their prospects4 ,they felt like new-created beings1 in a new-created universe4 ,we are young6 ,we are young6 they cried exultingly4 ,youth1 like the extremity of age1 had effaced the strongly-marked characteristics of middle life1 and mutually assimilated them all4 ,they were a group of merry youngsters1 almost maddened with the exuberant frolicsomeness of their years4 ,the most singular effect of their gayety was an impulse to mock the infirmity and decrepitude of which they had so lately been the victims4 ,they laughed loudly at their old-fashioned attire1 the wide-skirted coats and flapped waistcoats of the young men1 and the ancient cap and gown of the blooming girl4 ,one limped across the floor1 like a gouty grandfather2 one set a pair of spectacles astride of his nose1 and pretended to pore over the black-letter pages of the book of magic2 a third seated himself in an arm-chair1 and strove to imitate the venerable dignity of ,dr4 ,heidegger4 ,then all shouted mirthfully1 and leaped about the room4 ,the ,widow ,wycherly--if so fresh a damsel could be called a widow--tripped up to the doctor's chair1 with a mischievous merriment in her rosy face4 ,doctor1 you dear old soul1 cried she1 get up and dance with me6 ,and then the four young people laughed louder than ever to think what a queer figure the poor old doctor would cut4 ,pray excuse me1 answered the doctor1 quietly4 ,i am old and rheumatic1 and my dancing days were over long ago4 ,but either of these gay young gentlemen will be glad of so pretty a partner4 ,dance with me1 ,clara6 cried ,colonel ,killigrew4 ,no1 no1 ,i will be her partner6 shouted ,mr4 ,gascoigne4 ,she promised me her hand fifty years ago6 exclaimed ,mr4 ,medbourne4 ,they all gathered round her4 ,one caught both her hands in his passionate grasp--another threw his arm about her waist--the third buried his hand among the glossy curls that clustered beneath the widow's cap4 ,blushing1 panting1 struggling1 chiding1 laughing1 her warm breath fanning each of their faces by turns1 she strove to disengage herself1 yet still remained in their triple embrace4 ,never was there a livelier picture of youthful rivalship1 with bewitching beauty for the prize4 ,yet1 by a strange deception1 owing to the duskiness of the chamber1 and the antique dresses which they still wore1 the tall mirror is said to have reflected the figures of the three old1 gray1 withered grand-sires1 ridiculously contending for the skinny ugliness of a shrivelled grandam4 ,but they were young3 their burning passions proved them so4 ,inflamed to madness by the coquetry of the girl-widow1 who neither granted nor quite withheld her favors1 the three rivals began to interchange threatening glances4 ,still keeping hold of the fair prize1 they grappled fiercely at one another's throats4 ,as they struggled to and fro1 the table was overturned1 and the vase dashed into a thousand fragments4 ,the precious ,water of ,youth flowed in a bright stream across the floor1 moistening the wings of a butterfly1 which1 grown old in the decline of summer1 had alighted there to die4 ,the insect fluttered lightly through the chamber1 and settled on the snowy head of ,dr4 ,heidegger4 ,come1 come gentlemen6--come1 ,madame ,wycherly1 exclaimed the doctor1 ,i really must protest against this riot4 ,they stood still1 and shivered2 for it seemed as if gray ,time were calling them back from their sunny youth1 far down into the chill and darksome vale of years4 ,they looked at old ,dr4 ,heidegger1 who sat in his carved arm-chair1 holding the rose of half a century1 which he had rescued from among the fragments of the shattered vase4 ,at the motion of his hand1 the four rioters resumed their seats2 the more readily because their violent exertions had wearied them1 youthful though they were4 ,my poor ,sylvia's rose6 ejaculated ,dr4 ,heidegger1 holding it in the light of the sunset clouds2 it appears to be fading again4 ,and so it was4 ,even while the party were looking at it1 the flower continued to shrivel up1 till it became as dry and fragile as when the doctor had first thrown it into the vase4 ,he shook off the few drops of moisture which clung to its petals4 ,i love it as well thus1 as in its dewy freshness1 observed he1 pressing the withered rose to his withered lips4 ,while he spoke1 the butterfly fluttered down from the doctor's snowy head1 and fell upon the floor4 ,his guests shivered again4 ,a strange dullness1 whether of the body or spirit they could not tell1 was creeping gradually over them all4 ,they gazed at one another1 and fancied that each fleeting moment snatched away a charm1 and left a deepening furrow where none had been before4 ,was it an illusion8 ,had the changes of a lifetime been crowded into so brief a space1 and were they now four aged people1 sitting with their old friend1 ,dr4 ,heidegger8 ,are we grown old again1 so soon8 cried they1 dolefully4 ,in truth they had4 ,the ,water of ,youth possessed merely a virtue more transient than that of wine4 ,the delirium which it created had effervesced away4 ,yes6 they were old again4 ,with a shuddering impulse1 that showed her a woman still1 the widow clasped her skinny hands before her face1 and wished that the coffin lid were over it1 since it could no longer be beautiful4 ,yes1 friends1 we are old again1 said ,dr4 ,heidegger2 and lo6 the ,water of ,youth is all lavished on the ground4 ,well--,i bemoan it not2 for if the fountain gushed at my very doorstep1 ,i would not stoop to bathe my lips in it--no1 though its delirium were for years instead of moments4 ,such is the lesson ye have taught me6 ,but the doctor's four friends had taught no such lesson to themselves4 ,they resolved forthwith to make a pilgrimage to ,florida1 and quaff at morning1 noon1 and night1 from the ,fountain of ,youth4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #hi3 ,from ,twice ,told ,tales #ahcg4 ,,markheim#ij ,,robert ,,louis ,,stevenson ,yes1 said the dealer1 our windfalls are of various kinds4 ,some customers are ignorant1 and then ,i touch a dividend on my superior knowledge4 ,some are dishonest1 and here he held up the candle1 so that the light fell strongly on his visitor1 and in that case1 he continued1 ,i profit by my virtue4 ,markheim had but just entered from the daylight streets1 and his eyes had not yet grown familiar with the mingled shine and darkness in the shop4 ,at these pointed words1 and before the near presence of the flame1 he blinked painfully and looked aside4 ,the dealer chuckled4 ,you come to me on ,christmas ,day1 he resumed1 when you know that ,i am alone in my house1 put up my shutters1 and make a point of refusing business4 ,well1 you will have to pay for that2 you will have to pay for my loss of time1 when ,i should be balancing my books2 you will have to pay1 besides1 for a kind of manner that ,i remark in you to-day very strongly4 ,i am the essence of discretion1 and ask no awkward questions2 but when a customer cannot look me in the eye1 he has to pay for it4 ,the dealer once more chuckled2 and then1 changing to his usual business voice1 though still with a note of irony1 ,you can give1 as usual1 a clear account of how you came into the possession of the object8 he continued4 ,still your uncle's cabinet8 ,a remarkable collector1 sir6 ,and the little pale1 round-shouldered dealer stood almost on tip-toe1 looking over the top of his gold spectacles1 and nodding his head with every mark of disbelief4 ,markheim returned his gaze with one of infinite pity1 and a touch of horror4 ,this time1 said he1 you are in error4 ,i have not come to sell1 but to buy4 ,i have no curios to dispose of2 my uncle's cabinet is bare to the wainscot2 even were it still intact1 ,i have done well on the ,stock ,exchange1 and should more likely add to it than otherwise1 and my errand to-day is simplicity itself4 ,i seek a ,christmas present for a lady1 he continued1 waxing more fluent as he struck into the speech he had prepared2 and certainly ,i owe you every excuse for thus disturbing you upon so small a matter4 ,but the thing was neglected yesterday2 ,i must produce my little compliment at dinner2 and1 as you very well know1 a rich marriage is not a thing to be neglected4 ,there followed a pause1 during which the dealer seemed to weigh this statement incredulously4 ,the ticking of many clocks among the curious lumber of the shop1 and the faint rushing of the cabs in a near thoroughfare1 filled up the interval of silence4 ,well1 sir1 said the dealer1 be it so4 ,you are an old customer after all2 and if1 as you say1 you have the chance of a good marriage1 far be it from me to be an obstacle4 ,here is a nice thing for a lady now1 he went on1 this hand glass--fifteenth century1 warranted2 comes from a good collection1 too1 but ,i reserve the name1 in the interests of my customer1 who was just like yourself1 my dear sir1 the nephew and sole heir of a remarkable collector4 ,the dealer1 while he thus ran on in his dry and biting voice1 had stooped to take the object from its place2 and1 as he had done so1 a shock had passed through ,markheim1 a start both of hand and foot1 a sudden leap of many tumultuous passions to the face4 ,it passed as swiftly as it came1 and left no trace beyond a certain trembling of the hand that now received the glass4 ,a glass1 he said hoarsely1 and then paused1 and repeated it more clearly4 ,a glass8 ,for ,christmas8 ,surely not8 ,and why not8 cried the dealer4 ,why not a glass8 ,markheim was looking upon him with an indefinable expression4 ,you ask me why not8 he said4 ,why1 look here--look in it--look at yourself6 ,do you like to see it8 ,no6 nor ,i--nor any man4 ,the little man had jumped back when ,markheim had so suddenly confronted him with the mirror2 but now1 perceiving there was nothing worse on hand1 he chuckled4 ,your future lady1 sir1 must be pretty hard favored1 said he4 ,i ask you1 said ,markheim1 for a ,christmas present1 and you give me this--this damned reminder of years1 and sins and follies--this hand-conscience6 ,did you mean it8 ,had you a thought in your mind8 ,tell me4 ,it will be better for you if you do4 ,come1 tell me about yourself4 ,i hazard a guess now1 that you are in secret a very charitable man8 ,the dealer looked closely at his companion4 ,it was very odd1 ,markheim did not appear to be laughing2 there was something in his face like an eager sparkle of hope1 but nothing of mirth4 ,what are you driving at8 the dealer asked4 ,not charitable8 returned the other1 gloomily4 ,not charitable2 not pious2 not scrupulous2 unloving1 unbeloved2 a hand to get money1 a safe to keep it4 ,is that all8 ,dear ,god1 man1 is that all8 ,i will tell you what it is1 began the dealer1 with some sharpness1 and then broke off again into a chuckle4 ,but ,i see this is a love match of yours1 and you have been drinking the lady's health4 ,ah6 cried ,markheim1 with a strange curiosity4 ,ah1 have you been in love8 ,tell me about that4 ,i1 cried the dealer4 ,i in love6 ,i never had the time1 nor have ,i the time to-day for all this nonsense4 ,will you take the glass8 ,where is the hurry8 returned ,markheim4 ,it is very pleasant to stand here talking2 and life is so short and insecure that ,i would not hurry away from any pleasure--no1 not even from so mild a one as this4 ,we should rather cling1 cling to what little we can get1 like a man at a cliff's edge4 ,every second is a cliff1 if you think upon it--a cliff a mile high--high enough1 if we fall1 to dash us out of every feature of humanity4 ,hence it is best to talk pleasantly4 ,let us talk of each other2 why should we wear this mask8 ,let us be confidential4 ,who knows1 we might become friends8 ,i have just one word to say to you1 said the dealer4 ,either make your purchase1 or walk out of my shop4 ,true1 true1 said ,markheim4 ,enough fooling4 ,to business4 ,show me something else4 ,the dealer stooped once more1 this time to replace the glass upon the shelf1 his thin blond hair falling over his eyes as he did so4 ,markheim moved a little nearer1 with one hand in the pocket of his greatcoat2 he drew himself up and filled his lungs2 at the same time many different emotions were depicted together on his face--terror1 horror1 and resolve1 fascination and a physical repulsion2 and through a haggard lift of his upper lip1 his teeth looked out4 ,this1 perhaps1 may suit1 observed the dealer2 and then1 as he began to rearise1 ,markheim bounded from behind upon his victim4 ,the long1 skewerlike dagger flashed and fell4 ,the dealer struggled like a hen1 striking his temple on the shelf1 and then tumbled on the floor in a heap4 ,time had some score of small voices in that shop1 some stately and slow as was becoming to their great age2 others garrulous and hurried4 ,all these told out the seconds in an intricate chorus of tickings4 ,then the passage of a lad's feet1 heavily running on the pavement1 broke in upon these smaller voices and startled ,markheim into the consciousness of his surroundings4 ,he looked about him awfully4 ,the candle stood on the counter1 its flame solemnly wagging in a draught2 and by that inconsiderable movement1 the whole room was filled with noiseless bustle and kept heaving like a sea3 the tall shadows nodding1 the gross blots of darkness swelling and dwindling as with respiration1 the faces of the portraits and the china gods changing and wavering like images in water4 ,the inner door stood ajar1 and peered into that leaguer of shadows with a long slit of daylight like a pointing finger4 ,from these fear-stricken rovings1 ,markheim's eyes returned to the body of his victim1 where it lay both humped and sprawling1 incredibly small and strangely meaner than in life4 ,in these poor1 miserly clothes1 in that ungainly attitude1 the dealer lay like so much sawdust4 ,markheim had feared to see it1 and1 lo6 it was nothing4 ,and yet1 as he gazed1 this bundle of old clothes and pool of blood began to find eloquent voices4 ,there it must lie2 there was none to work the cunning hinges or direct the miracle of locomotion--there it must lie till it was found4 ,found6 ay1 and then8 ,then would this dead flesh lift up a cry that would ring over ,england1 and fill the world with the echoes of pursuit4 ,ay1 dead or not1 this was still the enemy4 ,time was that when the brains were out1 he thought2 and the first word struck into his mind4 ,time1 now that the deed was accomplished--time1 which had closed for the victim1 had become instant and momentous for the slayer4 ,the thought was yet in his mind1 when1 first one and then another1 with every variety of pace and voice--one deep as the bell from a cathedral turret1 another ringing on its treble notes the prelude of a waltz--the clocks began to strike the hour of three in the afternoon4 ,the sudden outbreak of so many tongues in that dumb chamber staggered him4 ,he began to bestir himself1 going to and fro with the candle1 beleaguered by moving shadows1 and startled to the soul by chance reflections4 ,in many rich mirrors1 some of home designs1 some from ,venice or ,amsterdam1 he saw his face repeated and repeated1 as it were an army of spies2 his own eyes met and detected him2 and the sound of his own steps1 lightly as they fell1 vexed the surrounding quiet4 ,and still as he continued to fill his pockets1 his mind accused him1 with a sickening iteration1 of the thousand faults of his design4 ,he should have chosen a more quiet hour2 he should have prepared an alibi2 he should not have used a knife2 he should have been more cautious1 and only bound and gagged the dealer1 and not killed him2 he should have been more bold1 and killed the servant also2 he should have done all things otherwise2 poignant regrets1 weary1 incessant toiling of the mind to change what was unchangeable1 to plan what was now useless1 to be the architect of the irrevocable past4 ,meanwhile1 and behind all this activity1 brute terrors1 like the scurrying of rats in a deserted attic1 filled the more remote chambers of his brain with riot2 the hand of the constable would fall heavy on his shoulder1 and his nerves would jerk like a hooked fish2 or he beheld1 in galloping defile1 the dock1 the prison1 the gallows1 and the black coffin4 ,terror of the people in the street sat down before his mind like a besieging army4 ,it was impossible1 he thought1 but that some rumour of the struggle must have reached their ears and set on edge their curiosity2 and now1 in all the neighbouring houses1 he divined them sitting motionless and with uplifted ear--solitary people1 condemned to spend ,christmas dwelling alone on memories of the past1 and now startlingly recalled from that tender exercise2 happy family parties1 struck into silence round the table1 the mother still with raised finger3 every degree and age and humour1 but all1 by their own hearths1 prying and hearkening and weaving the rope that was to hang him4 ,sometimes it seemed to him he could not move too softly2 the clink of the tall ,bohemian goblets rang out loudly like a bell2 and alarmed by the bigness of the ticking1 he was tempted to stop the clocks4 ,and then1 again1 with a swift transition of his terrors1 the very silence of the place appeared a source of peril1 and a thing to strike and freeze the passer-by2 and he would step more boldly1 and bustle aloud among the contents of the shop1 and imitate1 with elaborate bravado1 the movements of a busy man at ease in his own house4 ,but he was now so pulled about by different alarms that1 while one portion of his mind was still alert and cunning1 another trembled on the brink of lunacy4 ,one hallucination in particular took a strong hold on his credulity4 ,the neighbour hearkening with white face beside his window1 the passer-by arrested by a horrible surmise on the pavement--these could at worst suspect1 they could not know2 through the brick walls and shuttered windows only sounds could penetrate4 ,but here1 within the house1 was he alone8 ,he knew he was2 he had watched the servant set forth sweethearting1 in her poor best1 out for the day written in every ribbon and smile4 ,yes1 he was alone1 of course2 and yet1 in the bulk of empty house above him1 he could surely hear a stir of delicate footing--he was surely conscious1 inexplicably conscious of some presence4 ,ay1 surely2 to every room and corner of the house his imagination followed it2 and now it was a faceless thing1 and yet had eyes to see with2 and again it was a shadow of himself2 and yet again behold the image of the dead dealer1 reinspired with cunning and hatred4 ,at times1 with a strong effort1 he would glance at the open door which still seemed to repel his eyes4 ,the house was tall1 the skylight small and dirty1 the day blind with fog2 and the light that filtered down to the ground story was exceedingly faint1 and showed dimly on the threshold of the shop4 ,and yet1 in that strip of doubtful brightness1 did there not hang wavering a shadow8 ,suddenly1 from the street outside1 a very jovial gentleman began to beat with a staff on the shop-door1 accompanying his blows with shouts and railleries in which the dealer was continually called upon by name4 ,markheim1 smitten into ice1 glanced at the dead man4 ,but no6 he lay quite still2 he was fled away far beyond earshot of these blows and shoutings2 he was sunk beneath seas of silence2 and his name1 which would once have caught his notice above the howling of a storm1 had become an empty sound4 ,and presently the jovial gentleman desisted from his knocking and departed4 ,here was a broad hint to hurry what remained to be done1 to get forth from this accusing neighbourhood1 to plunge into a bath of ,london multitudes1 and to reach1 on the other side of day1 that haven of safety and apparent innocence--his bed4 ,one visitor had come3 at any moment another might follow and be more obstinate4 ,to have done the deed1 and yet not to reap the profit1 would be too abhorrent a failure4 ,the money1 that was now ,markheim's concern2 and as a means to that1 the keys4 ,he glanced over his shoulder at the open door1 where the shadow was still lingering and shivering2 and with no conscious repugnance of the mind1 yet with a tremor of the belly1 he drew near the body of his victim4 ,the human character had quite departed4 ,like a suit half-stuffed with bran1 the limbs lay scattered1 the trunk doubled1 on the floor2 and yet the thing repelled him4 ,although so dingy and inconsiderable to the eye1 he feared it might have more significance to the touch4 ,he took the body by the shoulders2 and turned it on its back4 ,it was strangely light and supple1 and the limbs1 as if they had been broken1 fell into the oddest postures4 ,the face was robbed of all expression2 but it was as pale as wax1 and shockingly smeared with blood about one temple4 ,that was1 for ,markheim1 the one displeasing circumstance4 ,it carried him back1 upon the instant1 to a certain fair day in a fishers' village3 a gray day1 a piping wind1 a crowd upon the street1 the blare of brasses1 the booming of drums1 the nasal voice of a ballad singer2 and a boy going to and fro1 buried over head in the crowd and divided between interest and fear1 until1 coming out upon the chief place of concourse1 he beheld a booth and a great screen with pictures1 dismally designed1 garishly coloured3 ,brownrigg with her apprentice2 the ,mannings with their murdered guest2 ,weare in the death-grip of ,thurtell2 and a score besides of famous crimes4 ,the thing was as clear as an illusion3 he was once again that little boy2 he was looking once again1 and with the same sense of physical revolt1 at these vile pictures2 he was still stunned by the thumping of the drums4 ,a bar of that day's music returned upon his memory2 and at that1 for the first time1 a qualm came over him1 a breath of nausea1 a sudden weakness of the joints1 which he must instantly resist and conquer4 ,he judged it more prudent to confront than to flee from these considerations2 looking the more hardily in the dead face1 bending his mind to realise the nature and greatness of his crime4 ,so little a while ago that face had moved with every change of sentiment1 that pale mouth had spoken1 that body had been all on fire with governable energies2 and now1 and by his act1 that piece of life had been arrested1 as the horologist1 with interjected finger1 arrests the beating of the clock4 ,so he reasoned in vain2 he could rise to no more remorseful consciousness2 the same heart which had shuddered before the painted effigies of crime1 looked on its reality unmoved4 ,at best1 he felt a gleam of pity for one who had been endowed in vain with all those faculties that can make the world a garden of enchantment1 one who had never lived and who was now dead4 ,but of penitence1 no1 not a tremor4 ,with that1 shaking himself clear of these considerations1 he found the keys and advanced towards the open door of the shop4 ,outside1 it had begun to rain smartly2 and the sound of the shower upon the roof had banished silence4 ,like some dripping cavern1 the chambers of the house were haunted by an incessant echoing1 which filled the ear and mingled with the ticking of the clocks4 ,and1 as ,markheim approached the door1 he seemed to hear1 in answer to his own cautious tread1 the steps of another foot withdrawing up the stair4 ,the shadow still palpitated loosely on the threshold4 ,he threw a ton's weight of resolve upon his muscles1 and drew back the door4 ,the faint1 foggy daylight glimmered dimly on the bare floor and stairs2 on the bright suit of armour posted1 halbert in hand1 upon the landing2 and on the dark wood-carvings1 and framed pictures that hung against the yellow panels of the wainscot4 ,so loud was the beating of the rain through all the house that1 in ,markheim's ears1 it began to be distinguished into many different sounds4 ,footsteps and sighs1 the tread of regiments marching in the distance1 the chink of money in the counting1 and the creaking of doors held stealthily ajar1 appeared to mingle with the patter of the drops upon the cupola and the gushing of the water in the pipes4 ,the sense that he was not alone grew upon him to the verge of madness4 ,on every side he was haunted and begirt by presences4 ,he heard them moving in the upper chambers2 from the shop1 he heard the dead man getting to his legs2 and as he began with a great effort to mount the stairs1 feet fled quietly before him and followed stealthily behind4 ,if he were but deaf1 he thought1 how tranquilly he would possess his soul6 ,and then again1 and hearkening with ever fresh attention1 he blessed himself for that unresting sense which held the outposts and stood a trusty sentinel upon his life4 ,his head turned continually on his neck2 his eyes1 which seemed starting from their orbits1 scouted on every side1 and on every side were half-rewarded as with the tail of something nameless vanishing4 ,the four-and-twenty steps to the first floor were four-and-twenty agonies4 ,on that first storey1 the doors stood ajar1 three of them like three ambushes1 shaking his nerves like the throats of cannon4 ,he could never again1 he felt1 be sufficiently immured and fortified from men's observing eyes2 he longed to be home1 girt in by walls1 buried among bedclothes1 and invisible to all but ,god4 ,and at that thought he wondered a little1 recollecting tales of other murderers and the fear they were said to entertain of heavenly avengers4 ,it was not so1 at least1 with him4 ,he feared the laws of nature1 lest1 in their callous and immutable procedure1 they should preserve some damning evidence of his crime4 ,he feared tenfold more1 with a slavish1 superstitious terror1 some scission in the continuity of man's experience1 some wilful illegality of nature4 ,he played a game of skill1 depending on the rules1 calculating consequence from cause2 and what if nature1 as the defeated tyrant overthrew the chess-board1 should break the mould of their succession8 ,the like had befallen ,napoleon 7so writers said7 when the winter changed the time of its appearance4 ,the like might befall ,markheim3 the solid walls might become transparent and reveal his doings like those of bees in a glass hive2 the stout planks might yield under his feet like quicksands and detain him in their clutch2 ay1 and there were soberer accidents that might destroy him3 if1 for instance1 the house should fall and imprison him beside the body of his victim2 or the house next door should fly on fire1 and the firemen invade him from all sides4 ,these things he feared2 and1 in a sense1 these things might be called the hands of ,god reached forth against sin4 ,but about ,god himself he was at ease2 his act was doubtless exceptional1 but so were his excuses1 which ,god knew2 it was there1 and not among men1 that he felt sure of justice4 ,when he had got safe into the drawing-room1 and shut the door behind him1 he was aware of a respite from alarms4 ,the room was quite dismantled1 uncarpeted besides1 and strewn with packing cases and incongruous furniture2 several great pier-glasses1 in which he beheld himself at various angles1 like an actor on a stage2 many pictures1 framed and unframed1 standing1 with their faces to the wall2 a fine ,sheraton sideboard1 a cabinet of marquetry1 and a great old bed1 with tapestry hangings4 ,the windows opened to the floor2 but by great good fortune the lower part of the shutters had been closed1 and this concealed him from the neighbours4 ,here1 then1 ,markheim drew in a packing case before the cabinet1 and began to search among the keys4 ,it was a long business1 for there were many2 and it was irksome1 besides2 for1 after all1 there might be nothing in the cabinet1 and time was on the wing4 ,but the closeness of the occupation sobered him4 ,with the tail of his eye he saw the door--even glanced at it from time to time directly like a besieged commander pleased to verify the good estate of his defences4 ,but in truth he was at peace4 ,the rain falling in the street sounded natural and pleasant4 ,presently1 on the other side1 the notes of a piano were wakened to the music of a hymn1 and the voices of many children took up the air and words4 ,how stately1 how comfortable was the melody6 ,how fresh the youthful voices6 ,markheim gave ear to it smilingly1 as he sorted out the keys2 and his mind was thronged with answerable ideas and images2 church-going children and the pealing of the high organ2 children afield1 bathers by the brookside1 ramblers on the brambly common1 kite-flyers in the windy and cloud-navigated sky2 and then1 at another cadence of the hymn1 back again to church1 and the somnolence of summer ,sundays1 and the high genteel voice of the parson 7which he smiled a little to recall7 and the painted ,jacobean tombs1 and the dim lettering of the ,ten ,commandments in the chancel4 ,and as he sat thus1 at once busy and absent1 he was startled to his feet4 ,a flash of ice1 a flash of fire1 a bursting gush of blood1 went over him1 and then he stood transfixed and thrilling4 ,a step mounted the stair slowly and steadily1 and presently a hand was laid upon the knob1 and the lock clicked1 and the door opened4 ,fear held ,markheim in a vice4 ,what to expect he knew not1 whether the dead man walking1 or the official ministers of human justice1 or some chance witness blindly stumbling in to consign him to the gallows4 ,but when a face was thrust into the aperture1 glanced round the room1 looked at him1 nodded and smiled as if in friendly recognition1 and then withdrew again1 and the door closed behind it1 his fear broke loose from his control in a hoarse cry4 ,at the sound of this the visitant returned4 ,did you call me8 he asked pleasantly1 and with that he entered the room and closed the door behind him4 ,markheim stood and gazed at him with all his eyes4 ,perhaps there was a film upon his sight1 but the outlines of the newcomer seemed to change and waver like those of the idols in the wavering candle-light of the shop2 and at times he thought he knew him2 and at times he thought he bore a likeness to himself2 and always like a lump of living terror1 there lay in his bosom the conviction that this thing was not of the earth and not of ,god4 ,and yet the creature had a strange air of the commonplace1 as he stood looking on ,markheim with a smile2 and when he added1 ,you are looking for the money1 ,i believe8 it was in the tones of everyday politeness4 ,markheim made no answer4 ,i should warn you1 resumed the other1 that the maid has left her sweetheart earlier than usual and will soon be here4 ,if ,mr4 ,markheim be found in this house1 ,i need not describe to him the consequences4 ,you know me8 cried the murderer4 ,the visitor smiled4 ,you have long been a favourite of mine1 he said2 and ,i have long observed and often sought to help you4 ,what are you8 cried ,markheim2 the devil8 ,what ,i may be1 returned the other1 cannot affect the service ,i propose to render you4 ,it can1 cried ,markheim2 it does6 ,be helped by you8 ,no1 never2 not by you6 ,you do not know me yet2 thank ,god1 you do not know me6 ,i know you1 replied the visitant1 with a sort of kind severity or rather firmness4 ,i know you to the soul4 ,know me6 cried ,markheim4 ,who can do so8 ,my life is but a travesty and slander on myself4 ,i have lived to belie my nature4 ,all men do2 all men are better than this disguise that grows about and stifles them4 ,you see each dragged away by life1 like one whom bravos have seized and muffled in a cloak4 ,if they had their own control--if you could see their faces1 they would be altogether different1 they would shine out for heroes and saints6 ,i am worse than most2 myself is more overlaid2 my excuse is known to me and ,god4 ,but1 had ,i the time1 ,i could disclose myself4 ,to me8 inquired the visitant4 ,to you before all1 returned the murderer4 ,i supposed you were intelligent4 ,i thought--since you exist--you would prove a reader of the heart4 ,and yet you would propose to judge me by my acts6 ,think of it2 my acts6 ,i was born and ,i have lived in a land of giants2 giants have dragged me by the wrists since ,i was born out of my mother--the giants of circumstance4 ,and you would judge me by my acts6 ,but can you not look within8 ,can you not understand that evil is hateful to me8 ,can you not see within me the clear writing of conscience1 never blurred by any wilful sophistry1 although too often disregarded8 ,can you not read me for a thing that surely must be common as humanity--the unwilling sinner8 ,all this is very feelingly expressed1 was the reply1 but it regards me not4 ,these points of consistency are beyond my province1 and ,i care not in the least by what compulsion you may have been dragged away1 so as you are but carried in the right direction4 ,but time flies2 the servant delays1 looking in the faces of the crowd and at the pictures on the hoardings1 but still she keeps moving nearer2 and remember1 it is as if the gallows itself was striding towards you through the ,christmas streets6 ,shall ,i help you2 ,i1 who know all8 ,shall ,i tell you where to find the money8 ,for what price8 asked ,markheim4 ,i offer you the service for a ,christmas gift1 returned the other4 ,markheim could not refrain from smiling with a kind of bitter triumph4 ,no1 said he1 ,i will take nothing at your hands2 if ,i were dying of thirst1 and it was your hand that put the pitcher to my lips1 ,i should find the courage to refuse4 ,it may be credulous1 but ,i will do nothing to commit myself to evil4 ,i have no objection to a death-bed repentance1 observed the visitant4 ,because you disbelieve their efficacy6 ,markheim cried4 ,i do not say so1 returned the other2 but ,i look on these things from a different side1 and when the life is done my interest falls4 ,the man has lived to serve me1 to spread black looks under colour of religion1 or to sow tares in the wheat-field1 as you do1 in a course of weak compliance with desire4 ,now that he draws so near to his deliverance1 he can add but one act of service--to repent1 to die smiling1 and thus to build up in confidence and hope the more timorous of my surviving followers4 ,i am not so hard a master4 ,try me4 ,accept my help4 ,please yourself in life as you have done hitherto2 please yourself more amply1 spread your elbows at the board2 and when the night begins to fall and the curtains to be drawn1 ,i tell you1 for your greater comfort1 that you will find it even easy to compound your quarrel with your conscience1 and to make a truckling peace with ,god4 ,i came but now from such a death-bed1 and the room was full of sincere mourners1 listening to the man's last words3 and when ,i looked into that face1 which had been set as a flint against mercy1 ,i found it smiling with hope4 ,and do you1 then1 suppose me such a creature8 asked ,markheim4 ,do you think ,i have no more generous aspirations than to sin1 and sin1 and sin1 and1 at last1 sneak into heaven8 ,my heart rises at the thought4 ,is this1 then1 your experience of mankind8 or is it because you find me with red hands that you presume such baseness8 and is this crime of murder indeed so impious as to dry up the very springs of good8 ,murder is to me no special category1 replied the other4 ,all sins are murder1 even as all life is war4 ,i behold your race1 like starving mariners on a raft1 plucking crusts out of the hands of famine and feeding on each other's lives4 ,i follow sins beyond the moment of their acting2 ,i find in all that the last consequence is death2 and to my eyes1 the pretty maid who thwarts her mother with such taking graces on a question of a ball1 drips no less visibly with human gore than such a murderer as yourself4 ,do ,i say that ,i follow sins8 ,i follow virtues also2 they differ not by the thickness of a nail1 they are both scythes for the reaping angel of ,death4 ,evil1 for which ,i live1 consists not in action1 but in character4 ,the bad man is dear to me2 not the bad act1 whose fruits1 if we could follow them far enough down the hurtling cataract of the ages1 might yet be found more blessed than those of the rarest virtues4 ,and it is not because you have killed a dealer1 but because you are ,markheim1 that ,i offered to forward your escape4 ,i will lay my heart open to you1 answered ,markheim4 ,this crime on which you find me is my last4 ,on my way to it ,i have learned many lessons2 itself is a lesson1 a momentous lesson4 ,hitherto ,i have been driven with revolt to what ,i would not2 ,i was a bond-slave to poverty1 driven and scourged4 ,there are robust virtues that can stand in these temptations2 mine was not so3 ,i had a thirst of pleasure4 ,but to-day1 and out of this deed1 ,i pluck both warning and riches--both the power and a fresh resolve to be myself4 ,i become in all things a free actor in the world2 ,i begin to see myself all changed1 these hands the agents of good1 this heart at peace4 ,something comes over me out of the past2 something of what ,i have dreamed on ,sabbath evenings to the sound of the church organ1 of what ,i forecast when ,i shed tears over noble books1 or talked1 an innocent child1 with my mother4 ,there lies my life2 ,i have wandered a few years1 but now ,i see once more my city of destination4 ,you are to use this money on the ,stock ,exchange1 ,i think8 remarked the visitor2 and there1 if ,i mistake not1 you have already lost some thousands8 ,ah1 said ,markheim1 but this time ,i have a sure thing4 ,this time1 again1 you will lose1 replied the visitor1 quietly4 ,ah1 but ,i keep back the half6 cried ,markheim4 ,that also you will lose1 said the other4 ,the sweat started upon ,markheim's brow4 ,well1 then1 what matter8 he exclaimed4 ,say it be lost1 say ,i am plunged again in poverty1 shall one part of me1 and that the worse1 continue until the end to override the better8 ,evil and good run strong in me1 haling me both ways4 ,i do not love the one thing1 ,i love all4 ,i can conceive great deeds1 renunciations1 martyrdoms2 and though ,i be fallen to such a crime as murder1 pity is no stranger to my thoughts4 ,i pity the poor2 who knows their trials better than myself8 ,i pity and help them2 ,i prize love1 ,i love honest laughter2 there is no good thing nor true thing on earth but ,i love it from my heart4 ,and are my vices only to direct my life1 and my virtues to lie without effect1 like some passive lumber of the mind8 ,not so2 good1 also1 is a spring of acts4 ,but the visitant raised his finger4 ,for six-and-thirty years that you have been in this world1 said he1 through many changes of fortune and varieties of humour1 ,i have watched you steadily fall4 ,fifteen years ago you would have started at a theft4 ,three years back you would have blenched at the name of murder4 ,is there any crime1 is there any cruelty or meanness1 from which you still recoil8--five years from now ,i shall detect you in the fact6 ,downward1 downward1 lies your way2 nor can anything but death avail to stop you4 ,it is true1 ,markheim said huskily1 ,i have in some degree complied with evil4 ,but it is so with all3 the very saints1 in the mere exercise of living1 grow less dainty1 and take on the tone of their surroundings4 ,i will propound to you one simple question1 said the other2 and as you answer1 ,i shall read to you your moral horoscope4 ,you have grown in many things more lax2 possibly you do right to be so2 and at any account1 it is the same with all men4 ,but granting that1 are you in any one particular1 however trifling1 more difficult to please with your own conduct1 or do you go in all things with a looser rein8 ,in any one8 repeated ,markheim1 with an anguish of consideration4 ,no1 he added1 with despair1 in none6 ,i have gone down in all4 ,then1 said1 the visitor1 content yourself with what you are1 for you will never change2 and the words of your part on this stage are irrevocably written down4 ,markheim stood for a long while silent1 and indeed it was the visitor who first broke the silence4 ,that being so1 he said1 shall ,i show you the money8 ,and grace8 cried ,markheim4 ,have you not tried it8 returned the other4 ,two or three years ago1 did ,i not see you on the platform of revival meetings1 and was not your voice the loudest in the hymn8 ,it is true1 said ,markheim2 and ,i see clearly what remains for me by way of duty4 ,i thank you for these lessons from my soul2 my eyes are opened1 and ,i behold myself at last for what ,i am4 ,at this moment1 the sharp note of the door-bell rang through the house2 and the visitant1 as though this were some concerted signal for which he had been waiting1 changed at once in his demeanour4 ,the maid6 he cried4 ,she has returned1 as ,i forewarned you1 and there is now before you one more difficult passage4 ,her master1 you must say1 is ill2 you must let her in1 with an assured but rather serious countenance--no smiles1 no overacting1 and ,i promise you success6 ,once the girl within1 and the door closed1 the same dexterity that has already rid you of the dealer will relieve you of this last danger in your path4 ,thenceforward you have the whole evening--the whole night1 if needful--to ransack the treasures of the house and to make good your safety4 ,this is help that comes to you with the mask of danger4 ,up6 he cried2 up1 friend2 your life hangs trembling in the scales2 up1 and act6 ,markheim steadily regarded his counsellor4 ,if ,i be condemned to evil acts1 he said1 there is still one door of freedom open--,i can cease from action4 ,if my life be an ill thing1 ,i can lay it down4 ,though ,i be1 as you say truly1 at the beck of every small temptation1 ,i can yet1 by one decisive gesture1 place myself beyond the reach of all4 ,my love of good is damned to barrenness2 it may1 and let it be6 ,but ,i have still my hatred of evil2 and from that1 to your galling disappointment1 you shall see that ,i can draw both energy and courage4 ,the features of the visitor began to undergo a wonderful and lovely change3 they brightened and softened with a tender triumph2 and1 even as they brightened1 faded and dislimned4 ,but ,markheim did not pause to watch or understand the transformation4 ,he opened the door and went downstairs very slowly1 thinking to himself4 ,his past went soberly before him2 he beheld it as it was1 ugly and strenuous like a dream1 random as chance-medley--a scene of defeat4 ,life1 as he thus reviewed it1 tempted him no longer2 but on the further side he perceived a quiet haven for his bark4 ,he paused in the passage1 and looked into the shop1 where the candle still burned by the dead body4 ,it was strangely silent4 ,thoughts of the dealer swarmed into his mind1 as he stood gazing4 ,and then the bell once more broke out into impatient clamour4 ,he confronted the maid upon the threshold with something like a smile4 ,you had better go for the police1 said he2 ,i have killed your master4 ,,footnotes3 ,footnote #ij3 ,first published in #ahhe4 ,,supplementary ,,readings ,,with ,,some ,,topics ,,for ,,discussion ,,and ,,for ,,composition 7,note4--,the selections named below are as a rule short2 and1 since they are contained in standard works of modern prose1 they are accessible in the average library4 ,page numbers in parentheses refer to the present volume47 ,i4 ,,the ,,personal ,,life 7a7 ,william ,hazlitt1 ,on ,personal ,character1 in ,the ,plain ,speaker3 ,how the main thesis differs from that in ,emerson's ,self-,reliance 7page #a74 7b7 ,walter ,pater1 ,diaphaneit1 in ,miscellaneous ,studies3 ,the substance of the ideal personality here delineated1 and how it differs from the type suggested by ,emerson4 7c7 ,matthew ,arnold1 ,doing as ,one ,likes1 or ,hebraism and ,hellenism1 in ,culture and ,anarchy3 ,the main principles of personal endeavor suggested in either of these essays4 7d7 ,plutarch1 ,marcus ,cato1 in ,lives1 ,vol4 ,,ii of ,clough's translation3 #a4 ,cato's ,self-,reliance4 #b4 ,cato's type of character in ,american public life4 7e7 ,walter ,scott1 fragment of ,autobiography1 in ,lockhart's ,life of ,scott3 ,a comparison of ,scott's early training with ,ruskin's4 ,see also the early chapters of 7f7 ,trevelyan's ,life of ,macaulay and 7g7 ,froude's ,life of ,carlyle4 7h7 ,charles ,darwin1 ,autobiography1 in ,life and ,letters3 #a4 ,the change which came over ,darwin's attitude toward literature4 #b4 ,the contrast between ,darwin's type of mind and ,lamb's as revealed in ,old ,china 7page #dj7 and ,pater's essay 7page #dcg74 ,,ii4 ,,education 7a7 ,r4,w4 ,emerson1 ,the ,american ,scholar1 in ,nature1 ,addresses1 ,lectures3 ,the main points in the view here given of education4 #b4 ,certain considerations1 somewhat neglected by ,emerson1 but developed by ,newman 7page #eb74 7b7 ,woodrow ,wilson1 ,the ,training of ,intellect 7an address to the ,phi ,beta ,kappa ,society of ,yale ,university73 ,how far your own course of study is fulfilling the requirements here set forth1 7c7 ,william ,hazlitt1 ,on ,application to ,study1 in ,the ,plain ,speaker3 #a4 ,hazlitt's view of the study of composition4 #b4 ,how the principles of application which he advocates may be applied to some other study in which you are interested4 7d7 ,t4,h4 ,huxley1 ,science and ,culture1 in ,science and ,education3 #a4 ,how far the principles here set forth bear out ,huxley's definition of education 7page #dg74 #b4 ,the main point at issue between ,huxley and ,arnold 7,arnold's essay1 page #ge1 is a reply to ,huxley71 and your own view of the matter drawn from your own experience4 7e7 ,j4,s4 ,mill1 ,inaugural ,address at ,st4 ,andrew's1 in ,dissertations1 ,vol4 ,,iv3 ,mill's main contentions as to the exact purpose and value of the study of language and literature in universities4 7f7 ,h4,d4 ,thoreau1 ,reading1 in ,walden3 ,the author's views in regard to reading not done in connection with school work4 7g7 ,a4,g4 ,balfour1 ,pleasures of ,reading1 in ,essays and ,addresses 7written as a reply to ,harrison's claims1 page #ig73 ,the main points at issue between ,harrison and ,balfour1 and your own view of the matter4 7h7 ,john ,lubbock1 ,the ,choice of ,books1 in ,the ,pleasures of ,life3 ,whether this essay goes to support ,harrison's or ,balfour's view1 and how4 7i7 ,woodrow ,wilson1 essays in ,mere ,literature4 7j7 ,john ,ruskin1 ,sesame and ,lilies4 7k7 ,consult several biographies of great men--for example1 ,morley's ,gladstone1 ,froude's ,carlyle1 ,darwin's ,life1 ,huxley's ,life--and make a comparative study of their early reading4 ,,iii4 ,,recreation ,,and ,,travels 7a7 ,george ,santayana1 on ,work and ,play1 sections #c and following1 in ,the ,sense of ,beauty1 ,part ,i3 #a4 ,the distinction between working and playing4 #b4 ,the relation between the sense of beauty and the sense of pleasure4 7b7 ,william ,hazlitt1 ,on ,living to ,one's ,self1 in ,table ,talk3 #a4 ,the general method of enjoying life1 which is developed here and illustrated further in ,on ,going a ,journey 7page #aaf74 7c7 ,r4,l4 ,stevenson1 ,walking ,tours1 in ,virginibus ,puerisque2 and ,roads1 in ,essays of ,travel3 #a4 ,the several ways in which these essays reflect ,hazlitt's views2 the points which are peculiar to ,stevenson4 #b4 ,how far your own methods of securing outdoor enjoyment are in accord with ,hazlitt's and ,stevenson's4 7d7 ,w4,h4 ,hudson1 ,idle ,days1 in ,idle ,days in ,patagonia3 ,what the author's so-called idleness consisted in4 7e7 ,francis ,parkman1 ,hunting ,indians1 in ,the ,oregon ,trail3 ,the mental experiences of the writer himself in the course of the exploit he describes4 ,,iv4 ,,social ,,life ,,and ,,manners 7a7 ,r4,w4 ,emerson1 ,culture1 in ,the ,conduct of ,life3 ,the relation which the central thought bears to that of ,behavior 7page #aed74 7b7 ,matthew ,arnold1 ,sweetness and ,light1 in ,culture and ,anarchy3 #a4 ,the chief motives and characteristics of culture4 #b4 ,the relation between culture and bodily vigor4 #c4 ,the ,social ,idea4 #d4 ,a comparison of ,emerson's and ,arnold's attitude toward culture4 7c7 ,r4,w4 ,emerson1 ,manners1 in ,essays1 ,second ,series4 ,how ,emerson's view of the relation between manners and fashion supplements ,spencer's contention 7page #agb74 7d7 ,henri ,bergson1 the first part of ,chapter ,i in ,laughter3 ,the function of laughter in social life4 7g7 ,william ,hazlitt1 ,on the ,spirit of ,obligations1 in ,the ,plain ,dealer3 ,the relation between good sense and good nature4 7f7 ,r4,l4 ,stevenson1 ,the ,truth of ,intercourse1 in ,virginibus ,puerisque3 ,the complex meaning of truthfulness in social life4 7g7 ,w4,m4 ,thackeray1 ,george ,,ii1 in ,the ,four ,georges3 ,the chief characteristics of ,georgian society4 ,v4 ,,public ,,affairs 7a7 ,plato1 ,the ,apology1 in the ,dialogues1 translated by ,jowett1 and by others3 #a4 ,the part played by ,socrates in the public life of ,athens4 #b4 ,what function ,socrates could fulfil in ,american public life4 7b7 ,j4,s4 ,mill1 ,civilization1 in ,dissertations and ,discussions1 ,vol4 ,i3 ,the ill effects of civilization1 and how they may be overcome4 7c7 ,henry ,george1 ,the ,persistence of ,poverty amid ,advancing ,wealth1 in ,book ,v of ,progress and ,poverty3 ,george's exposition of the problem tested by your own experience4 7d7 ,j4,s4 ,mill1 ,of the ,dangers to which ,representative ,government is ,liable1 in ,considerations on ,representative ,government3 ,the extent to which ,mill's contentions apply to the ,united ,states4 7e7 ,josiah ,royce1 ,some ,american ,problems1 in ,the ,philosophy of ,loyalty3 #a4 ,the general solution proposed4 #b4 ,how this solution might be applied to some public or college problem you know of4 ,,vi4 ,,science 7a7 ,herbert ,spencer1 ,the ,genesis of ,science1 in ,illustrations of ,universal ,progress3 ,the essential nature of science4 7b7 ,t4,h4 ,huxley1 ,the ,method of ,scientific ,investigation1 in ,man's ,place in ,nature3 ,the relation between scientific and everyday modes of thinking4 7c7 ,john ,tyndall1 ,on the nature and function of the sun1 in ,chapter ,,xiv of ,heat as a ,mode of ,motion3 ,the general relation between the facts presented by ,tyndall and those presented in ,the ,physical ,basis of ,life 7page #bdj74 7d7 ,a4,r4 ,wallace1 ,darwinism as ,applied to ,man1 in ,darwinism3 ,a comparison of this piece1 in respect to aim and method1 with ,darwin's ,mental ,powers of ,men and ,animals 7page #bfc74 7e7 ,charles ,darwin1 ,on the flower of the ladies' slipper1 in ,chapter ,,viii of ,fertilization of ,orchids by ,insects4 7f7 ,t4,h4 ,huxley1 ,on the ,formation of ,coal1 in ,discourses ,biological4 ,,vii4 ,,nature 7a7 ,r4,w4 ,emerson1 ,nature1 in ,essays1 ,second ,series3 ,the effect of nature on the human mind4 7b7 ,h4,d4 ,thoreau1 ,spring1 in ,walden3 #a4 ,the formative principle in nature4 #b4 ,a comparison of ,thoreau's attitude toward nature1 as revealed here and in ,walden ,pond 7page #cjf71 with that of ,emerson4 7c7 ,john ,burroughs1 ,the ,pastoral ,bees in ,locusts and ,wild ,honey3 ,the communal life of the bees4 7d7 ,w4,h4 ,hudson1 ,the ,perfume of an ,evening ,primrose1 in ,idle ,days in ,patagonia3 ,the association of phenomena of nature with events in one's life4 7e7 ,leslie ,stephen1 ,sunset on ,mont ,blanc1 in ,the ,playground of ,europe3 ,an analysis of the circumstances which combined to give this sunset its peculiar interest4 7f7 ,john ,ruskin1 descriptions of water1 sky1 clouds1 and foliage in ,modern ,painters1 ,vol4 ,i 7look up passages other than those selected for the present volume1 page #cbe73 in each case1 distinguish the chief beautiful effect which the author wishes to bring out4 ,,viii4 ,,conduct ,,and ,,inner ,,life 7a7 ,william ,james1 ,the ,will to ,believe1 in ,the ,will to ,believe1 and other ,essays3 ,the bearing of religious conviction on volition and conduct4 7b7 ,josiah ,royce1 ,loyalty to ,loyalty1 in ,the ,philosophy of ,loyalty3 #a4 ,the exact meaning of the title4 #b4 ,how the main thesis is fundamental for ,loyalty and ,insight 7page #cfe74 7c7 ,r4,w4 ,emerson1 ,the ,over-,soul1 in ,essays1 ,first ,series3 #a4 ,how the conception here developed appears again in other essays of ,emerson which you have read4 #b4 ,how ,emerson's attitude toward spiritual truth differs from that of ,james2 see 7a71 above4 7d7 ,josiah ,royce1 ,what is ,vital in ,christianity8 in ,william ,james and ,other ,essays3 ,the central thought as compared with ,seeley's 7page #cea74 7e7 ,george ,santayana1 ,the ,poetry of ,christian ,dogma1 in ,poetry and ,religion3 ,the full significance of the title4 7f7 ,j4,r4 ,seeley1 ,christ's ,royalty1 in ,ecce ,homo3 ,the significance of the term ,king as applied to ,christ4 7g7 ,g4,l4 ,dickinson1 ,the ,greek ,view of ,religion1 in ,the ,greek ,view of ,life3 #a4 ,how the ,greek differs from the ,christian view4 #b4 ,the most admirable features of the ,greek view4 7h7 ,walter ,pater1 ,a ,study of ,dionysus1 in ,greek ,studies3 ,what ,dionysus was symbolic of4 7i7 ,william ,james1 ,habit1 in ,psychology1 ,vol4 ,i3 ,the significance of habits1 tested by your own experience4 7j7 ,w4,e4,h4 ,lecky1 ,the ,management of ,character1 in ,the ,map of ,life3 ,specific methods by which one may mold one's own character4 ,,ix4 ,,literature ,,and ,,art 7a7 ,george ,santayana1 ,art and ,happiness1 in ,the ,life of ,reason1 ,vol4 ,,iv3 #a4 ,what is ,art8 #b4 ,the position of literature among the arts4 #c4 ,what art needs at the present day4 7b7 ,walter ,bagehot1 ,on ,wordsworth1 in ,essay on ,wordsworth1 ,tennyson1 and ,browning3 ,the nature of pure art4 7c7 ,matthew ,arnold1 ,wordsworth1 in ,essays in ,criticism3 ,a comparison of ,arnold's main thesis in regard to ,wordsworth with ,bagehot's2 see 7b7 above4 7d7 ,g4,h4 ,lewes1 ,the ,principle of ,sincerity1 in ,the ,principles of ,success in ,literature3 ,the relation between sincerity and success in literature4 7e7 ,thomas ,carlyle1 ,dante1 in ,on ,heroes and ,hero-,worship3 #a4 ,the chief differences between ,dante and ,shakespeare 7see page #dbc74 #b4 ,how the principle of sincerity 7see 7d7 above7 is illustrated in the case of ,dante4 7f7 ,p4,b4 ,shelley1 ,defence of ,poetry3 ,a comparison of ,shelley's attitude toward poetry with ,bradley's 7page #chi74 7g7 ,g4,l4 ,dickinson1 ,chapter ,,iv in the ,greek ,view of ,life 7the part preceding the section reprinted in the present volume73 ,how the principles determining the nature of ,greek tragedy appear also in the other ,greek arts4 7h7 ,s4,h4 ,butcher1 ,what we ,owe to ,greece1 in ,some ,aspects of ,greek ,genius3 ,ideals we have inherited from the ,greeks4 7i7 ,a4,c4 ,bradley1 ,the ,substance of ,shakespearean ,tragedy1 in ,shakespearean ,tragedy3 ,the conception of the relations between good and evil which appears in ,shakespeare's tragedies4 7j7 ,sophocles1 ,oedipus ,rex 7translated by ,gilbert ,murray73 ,a comparison of the theme of this tragedy with the theme of ,shakespeare's ,richard ,,iii1 ,macbeth1 or ,lear4