,transcribed from the #ahgd ,w4         
,isbister  ,co4 edition by ,david       
,price1 email  ccx#jgd;coventry4ac4uk   
,,health ,,and ,,education      ,,by    
,,the  ,,rev4 ,,charles ,,kingsley1     
,f4,l4,s41 ,f4,g4,s4  ,,canon ,,of      
,,westminster    ,w4 ,,isbister  ,,co4  
#ef1 ,,ludgate ,,hill1 ,,london  #ahgd  
,all rights reserved          ,,the     
,,science ,,of ,,health      ,whether   
the ,british race is improving or       
degenerating8  ,what1 if it seem        
probably degenerating1 are the causes of
 so great an evil8  ,how they can  be1  
if not destroyed1 at least              
arrested8--,these are questions worthy  
the  attention1 not of statesmen only   
and medical men1 but of every father and
  mother in these isles4  ,i shall say  
somewhat about them in this ,essay2  and
 say it in a form which ought to be     
intelligible to fathers and  mothers of 
every class1 from the highest to the    
lowest1 in hopes of  convincing some of 
them at least that the science of       

health1 now so  utterly neglected in our
 curriculum of so-called education1     
ought to be  taught--the rudiments of it
 at least--in every school1 college1 and
  university4    ,we talk of our hardy  
forefathers2 and rightly4  ,but they    
were hardy1 just  as the savage is      
usually hardy1 because none but the     
hardy lived4  ,they  may have been able 
to say of themselves--as they do in a   
state paper of  #aeae1 now well known   
through the pages of ,mr4 ,froude--,what
 comyn folk of  all the world may       
compare with the comyns of ,england1 in 
riches1 freedom1  liberty1 welfare1 and 
all prosperity8  ,what comyn folk is so 
mighty1 and  so strong in the felde1 as 
the comyns of ,england8  ,they may have 
been  fed on great shins of beef1 till  
they became1 as ,benvenuto ,cellini     
calls them1 the ,english wild beasts4   
,but they increased in numbers  slowly1 
if at all1 for centuries4  ,those       
terrible laws of natural  selection1    
which issue in the survival of the      

fittest1 cleared off the  less fit1 in  
every generation1 principally by        
infantile disease1 often by  wholesale  
famine and pestilence2 and left1 on the 
whole1 only those of  the strongest     
constitutions to perpetuate a hardy1    
valiant1 and  enterprising race4    ,at 
last came a sudden and unprecedented    
change4  ,in the first years of  the    
century1 steam and commerce produced an 
enormous increase in the  population4   
,millions of fresh human beings found   
employment1 married1  brought up        
children who found employment in their  
turn1 and learnt to  live more or less  
civilised lives4  ,an event1 doubtless1 
for which ,god is  to be thanked4  ,a   
quite new phase of humanity1 bringing   
with it new vices  and new dangers3 but 
bringing1 also1 not merely new comforts1
 but new  noblenesses1 new generosities1
 new conceptions of duty1 and of how    
that  duty should be done4  ,it is      
childish to regret the old times1 when  
our  soot-grimed manufacturing districts

 were green with lonely farms4  ,to     
murmur at the transformation would be1  
,i believe1 to murmur at the will  of   
,him without whom not a sparrow falls to
 the ground4       ,the old order       
changeth1 yielding place to the new1    
,and ,god fulfils himself in many ways1 
,lest one good custom should corrupt the
 world4    ,our duty is1 instead of     
longing for the good old custom1 to take
 care of  the good new custom1 lest it  
should corrupt the world in like wise4  
,and  it may do so thus3--    ,the rapid
 increase of population during the first
 half of this century  began at a moment
 when the ,british stock was specially  
exhausted2 namely1  about the end of the
 long ,french war4  ,there may have been
 periods of  exhaustion1 at least in    
,england1 before that4  ,there may have 
been one  here1 as there seems to have  
been on the ,continent1 after the       
,crusades2  and another after the ,wars 
of the ,roses4  ,there was certainly a  
period of  severe exhaustion at the end 

of ,elizabeth's reign1 due both to the  
long  ,spanish and ,irish wars and to   
the terrible endemics introduced from   
abroad2 an exhaustion which may have    
caused1 in part1 the national  weakness 
which hung upon us during the reign of  
the ,stuarts4  ,but after  none of these
 did the survival of the less fit       
suddenly become more easy2  or the      
discovery of steam power1 and the       
acquisition of a colonial  empire1      
create at once a fresh demand for human 
beings and a fresh supply  of food for  
them4  ,britain1 at the beginning of the
 nineteenth century1  was in an         
altogether new social situation4    ,at 
the beginning of the great ,french war2 
and1 indeed1 ever since the  beginning  
of the war with ,spain in #agci--often  
snubbed as the war about  ,jenkins's    
ear--but which was1 as ,i hold1 one of  
the most just1 as it was  one of the    
most popular1 of all our wars2 after1   
too1 the once famous  forty fine        
harvests of the eighteenth century1 the 

,british people1 from  the gentleman who
 led to the soldier or sailor who       
followed1 were one of  the mightiest and
 most capable races which the world has 
ever seen1  comparable best to the old  
,roman1 at his mightiest and most       
capable  period4  ,that1 at least1 their
 works testify4  ,they created--as far  
as  man can be said to create           
anything--the ,british ,empire4  ,they  
won for us  our colonies1 our commerce1 
the mastery of the seas of all the      
world4  ,but  at what a cost--          
,their bones are scattered far and wide1
     ,by mount1 and stream1 and sea4    
,year after year1 till the final triumph
 of ,waterloo1 not battle only1 but     
worse destroyers than shot and          
shell--fatigue and disease--had been    
carrying off our stoutest1 ablest1      
healthiest young men1 each of whom      
represented1 alas6 a maiden left        
unmarried at home1 or married1 in       
default1 to a less able man4  ,the      
strongest went to the war2 each who     

fell left a weaklier man to continue the
 race2 while of those who did not  fall1
 too many returned with tainted and     
weakened constitutions1 to  injure1 it  
may be1 generations yet unborn4  ,the   
middle classes1 being  mostly engaged in
 peaceful pursuits1 suffered less of    
this decimation of  their finest young  
men2 and to that fact ,i attribute much 
of their  increasing preponderance1     
social1 political1 and intellectual1 to 
this  very day4  ,one cannot walk the   
streets of any of our great commercial  
cities without seeing plenty of men1    
young and middle-aged1 whose whole      
bearing and stature shows that the manly
 vigour of our middle class is  anything
 but exhausted4  ,in ,liverpool1        
especially1 ,i have been much  struck   
not only with the vigorous countenance1 
but with the bodily size  of the        
mercantile men on ',change4  ,but it    
must be remembered always1  first1 that 
these men are the very elite of their   
class2 the cleverest  men2 the men      

capable of doing most work2 and next1   
that they are1 almost  all of them1 from
 the great merchant who has his villa   
out of town1 and  perhaps his moor in   
the ,highlands1 down to the sturdy young
 volunteer who  serves in the           
haberdasher's shop1 country-bred men2   
and that the question  is1 not what they
 are like now1 but what their children  
and  grand-children1 especially the fine
 young volunteer's1 will be like8  ,and 
a very serious question ,i hold that to 
be2 and for this reason3    ,war is1    
without doubt1 the most hideous physical
 curse which fallen man  inflicts upon  
himself2 and for this simple reason1    
that it reverses the  very laws of      
nature1 and is more cruel even than     
pestilence4  ,for instead  of issuing in
 the survival of the fittest1 it issues 
in the survival of  the less fit3 and   
therefore1 if protracted1 must          
deteriorate generations  yet unborn4    
,and yet a peace such as we now enjoy1  
prosperous1 civilised1  humane1 is      

fraught1 though to a less degree1 with  
the very same ill  effect4    ,in the   
first place1 tens of thousands--,who    
knows it not8--lead sedentary  and      
unwholesome lives1 stooping1            
asphyxiated1 employing as small a       
fraction of their bodies as of their    
minds4  ,and all this in dwellings1     
workshops1 what not8--the influences1   
the very atmosphere of which tend  not  
to health1 but to unhealth1 and to      
drunkenness as a solace under the       
feeling of unhealth and depression4     
,and that such a life must tell upon    
their offspring1 and if their offspring 
grow up under similar  circumstances1   
upon their offspring's offspring1 till a
 whole population  may become           
permanently degraded1 who does not know8
  ,for who that walks  through the      
by-streets of any great city does not   
see8  ,moreover1 and  this is one of the
 most fearful problems with which modern
 civilisation  has to deal--we interfere
 with natural selection by our          

conscientious  care of life1 as surely  
as does war itself4  ,if war kills the  
most fit to  live1 we save alive those  
who--looking at them from a merely      
physical  point of view--are most fit to
 die4  ,everything which makes it more  
easy  to live2 every sanatory reform1   
prevention of pestilence1 medical       
discovery1 amelioration of climate1     
drainage of soil1 improvement in        
dwelling-houses1 workhouses1 gaols2     
every reformatory school1 every         
hospital1 every cure of drunkenness1    
every influence1 in short1 which        
has--so ,i am told--increased the       
average length of life in these islands1
  by nearly one-third1 since the first  
establishment of life insurances1  one  
hundred and fifty years ago2 every      
influence of this kind1 ,i say1  saves  
persons alive who would otherwise have  
died2 and the great majority  of these  
will be1 even in surgical and zymotic   
cases1 those of least  resisting power2 
who are thus preserved to produce in    

time a still less  powerful progeny4    
,do ,i say that we ought not to save    
these people1 if we can8  ,god forbid4  
,the weakly1 the diseased1 whether      
infant or adult1 is here on earth2 a    
,british citizen2 no more responsible   
for his own weakness than for his  own  
existence4  ,society1 that is1 in plain 
,english1 we and our ancestors1  are    
responsible for both2 and we must fulfil
 the duty1 and keep him in  life2 and1  
if we can1 heal1 strengthen1 develop him
 to the utmost2 and  make the best of   
that which fate and our own deservings  
have given us  to deal with4  ,i do not 
speak of higher motives still2 motives  
which to  every minister of religion    
must be paramount and awful4  ,i speak  
merely  of physical and social motives1 
such as appeal to the conscience of     
every  man--the instinct which bids     
every human-hearted man or woman to save
  life1 alleviate pain1 like ,him who   
causes ,his sun to shine on the evil    
and on the good1 and ,his rain to fall  

on the just and on the unjust4    ,but  
it is palpable1 that in so doing we     
must1 year by year1 preserve a  large   
percentage of weakly persons1 who1      
marrying freely in their own  class1    
must produce weaklier children1 and they
 weaklier children still4  ,must1 did ,i
 say8  ,there are those who are of      
opinion--and ,i1 after  watching and    
comparing the histories of many         
families1 indeed1 of every  one with    
whom ,i have come in contact for now    
five-and-thirty years1 in  town and     
country1 can only fear that their       
opinion is but too well  founded on     
fact--that in the great majority of     
cases1 in all classes  whatsoever1 the  
children are not equal to their parents1
 nor they1 again1  to their grandparents
 of the beginning of the century2 and   
that this  degrading process goes on    
most surely1 and most rapidly1 in our   
large  towns1 and in proportion to the  
antiquity of those towns1 and therefore 
in proportion to the number of          

generations during which the degrading  
influences have been at work4    ,this  
and cognate dangers have been felt more 
and more deeply1 as the  years have     
rolled on1 by students of human society4
  ,to ward them off1  theory after      
theory has been put on paper1 especially
 in ,france1 which  deserve high praise 
for their ingenuity1 less for their     
morality1 and1 ,i  fear1 still less for 
their common-sense4  ,for the theorist  
in his closet  is certain to ignore1 as 
inconvenient to the construction of his 
,utopia1  certain of those broad facts  
of human nature which every active      
parish  priest1 medical man1 or poor-law
 guardian has to face every day of his  
life4    ,society and ,british human    
nature are what they have become by the 
indirect influences of long ages1 and we
 can no more reconstruct the one  than  
we can change the other4  ,we can no    
more mend men by theories than  we can  
by coercion--to which1 by the by1 almost
 all these theorists look  longingly as 

their final hope and mainstay4  ,we must
 teach men to mend  their own matters1  
of their own reason1 and their own      
free-will4  ,we must  teach them that   
they are the arbiters of their own      
destinies2 and1 to a  fearfully great   
degree1 of their children's destinies   
after them4  ,we  must teach them not   
merely that they ought to be free1 but  
that they are  free1 whether they know  
it or not1 for good and for evil4  ,and 
we must do  that in this case1 by       
teaching them sound practical science2  
the science  of physiology1 as applied  
to health4  ,so1 and so only1 can we    
check--,i do  not say stop              
entirely--though ,i believe even that to
 be ideally possible2  but at least     
check the process of degradation which  
,i believe to be  surely going on1 not  
merely in these islands1 but in every   
civilised  country in the world1 in     
proportion to its civilisation4    ,it  
is still a question whether science has 
fully discovered those laws of          

hereditary health1 the disregard of     
which causes so many marriages          
disastrous to generations yet unborn4   
,but much valuable light has been       
thrown on this most mysterious and most 
important subject during the last  few  
years4  ,that light--and ,i thank ,god  
for it--is widening and deepening       
rapidly4  ,and ,i doubt not that1 in a  
generation or two more1 enough will  be 
known to be thrown into the shape of    
practical and proveable rules2  and     
that1 if not a public opinion1 yet at   
least1 what is more useful far1  a      
wide-spread private opinion1 will grow  
up1 especially among educated  women1   
which will prevent many a tragedy and   
save many a life4    ,but1 as to the    
laws of personal health3 enough1 and    
more than enough1 is  known already1 to 
be applied safely and easily by any     
adults1 however  unlearned1 to the      
preservation not only of their own      
health1 but of that  of their children4 
,the value of healthy habitations1 of   

personal cleanliness1 of pure air  and  
pure water1 of various kinds of food1   
according as each tends to make  bone1  
fat1 or muscle1 provided only--provided 
only--that the food be  unadulterated2  
the value of various kinds of clothing1 
and physical  exercise1 of a free and   
equal development of the brain-power1   
without  undue overstrain in any one    
direction2 in one word1 the method of   
producing1 as far as possible1 the      
mentem sanam in corpore sano1 and the   
wonderful and blessed effects of such   
obedience to those laws of nature1      
which are nothing but the good will of  
,god expressed in facts--their          
wonderful and blessed tendency1 ,i say1 
to eliminate the germs of  hereditary   
disease1 and to actually regenerate the 
human system--all this  is known2 known 
as fully and clearly as any human       
knowledge need be  known2 it is written 
in dozens of popular books and          
pamphlets4  ,and why  should this divine
 voice1 which cries to man1 tending to  

sink into  effeminate barbarism through 
his own hasty and partial               
civilisation1--,it  is not too late4    
,for your bodies1 as for your spirits1  
there is an  upward1 as well as a       
downward path4  ,you1 or if not you1 at 
least the  children whom you have       
brought into the world1 for whom you    
toil1 for  whom you hoard1 for whom you 
pray1 for whom you would give your      
lives1--they still may be healthy1      
strong1 it may be beautiful1 and have   
all the intellectual and social1 as well
 as the physical advantages1  which     
health1 strength1 and beauty give4--,ah1
 why is this divine voice  now1 as of   
old1 ,wisdom crying in the streets1 and 
no man regarding her8  ,i  appeal to    
women1 who are initiated1 as we men can 
never be1 into the  stern mysteries of  
pain1 and sorrow1 and                   
self-sacrifice2--they who bring  forth  
children1 weep over children1 slave for 
children1 and1 if they have  none of    
their own1 then slave1 with the holy    

instinct of the sexless bee1  for the   
children of others--,let them say1 shall
 this thing be8    ,let my readers      
pardon me if ,i seem to write too       
earnestly4  ,that ,i speak  neither more
 nor less than the truth1 every medical 
man knows full well4  ,not only as a    
very humble student of physiology1 but  
as a parish priest  of thirty years'    
standing1 ,i have seen so much          
unnecessary misery2 and ,i  have in     
other cases seen similar misery so      
simply avoided2 that the sense  of the  
vastness of the evil is intensified by  
my sense of the easiness of  the cure4  
,why1 then--to come to practical        
suggestions--should there not be opened 
in every great town in these realms a   
public school of health8  ,it might     
connect itself with--,i hold that it    
should form an integral part of--some   
existing educational institute4  ,but it
 should at least give practical         
lectures1 for fees small enough to put  
them within the reach of any            

respectable man or woman1 however poor4 
,i cannot but hope that such  schools of
 health1 if opened in the great         
manufacturing towns of ,england  and    
,scotland1 and1 indeed1 in such an      
,irish town as ,belfast1 would obtain   
pupils in plenty1 and pupils who would  
thoroughly profit by what they  hear4   
,the people of these towns are1 most of 
them1 specially accustomed  by their own
 trades to the application of scientific
 laws4  ,to them1  therefore1 the       
application of any fresh physical laws  
to a fresh set of  facts1 would have    
nothing strange in it4  ,they have      
already something of  that inductive    
habit of mind which is the groundwork of
 all rational  understanding or action4 
,they would not turn the deaf and       
contemptuous  ear with which the savage 
and the superstitious receive the       
revelation of  nature's mysteries4  ,why
 should not1 with so hopeful an         
audience1 the  experiment be tried far  
and wide1 of giving lectures on health1 

as  supplementary to those lectures on  
animal physiology which are1 ,i am      
happy to say1 becoming more and more    
common8  ,why should not people be      
taught--they are already being taught at
 ,birmingham--something about the       
tissues of the body1 their structure and
 uses1 the circulation of the  blood1   
respiration1 chemical changes in the air
 respired1 amount  breathed1 digestion1 
nature of food1 absorption1 secretion1  
structure of  the nervous system1--in   
fact1 be taught something of how their  
own bodies  are made and how they work8 
,teaching of this kind ought to1 and    
will1 in  some more civilised age and   
country1 be held a necessary element in 
the  school-course of every child1 just 
as necessary as reading1 writing1 and   
arithmetic2 for it is after all the most
 necessary branch of that  technical    
education of which we hear so much just 
now1 namely1 the  technic1 or art1 of   
keeping oneself alive and well4    ,but 
we can hardly stop there4  ,after we    

have taught the condition of  health1 we
 must teach also the condition of       
disease2 of those diseases  specially   
which tend to lessen wholesale the      
health of townsfolk1 exposed  to an     
artificial mode of life4  ,surely young 
men and women should be  taught         
something of the causes of zymotic      
disease1 and of scrofula1  consumption1 
rickets1 dipsomania1 cerebral           
derangement1 and such like4  ,they      
should be shown the practical value of  
pure air1 pure water1  unadulterated    
food1 sweet and dry dwellings4  ,is     
there one of them1 man  or woman1 who   
would not be the safer and happier1 and 
the more useful to  his or her          
neighbours1 if they had acquired some   
sound notions about  those questions of 
drainage on which their own lives and   
the lives of  their children may every  
day depend8  ,i say--women as well as   
men4  ,i  should have said women rather 
than men4  ,for it is the women who have
 the  ordering of the household1 the    

bringing up of the children2 the women  
who  bide at home1 while the men are    
away1 it may be at the other end of the 
earth4    ,and if any say1 as they have 
a right to say--,but these are subjects 
which can hardly be taught to young     
women in public lectures2 ,i            
rejoin1--,of course not1 unless they are
 taught by women1--by women1 of  course1
 duly educated and legally qualified4   
,let such teach to women1  what every   
woman ought to know1 and what her       
parents will very properly  object to   
her hearing from almost any man4  ,this 
is one of the main  reasons why ,i have1
 for twenty years past1 advocated the   
training of  women for the medical      
profession2 and one which countervails1 
in my mind1  all possible objections to 
such a movement4  ,and now1 thank ,god1 
,i am  seeing the common sense of ,great
 ,britain1 and indeed of every civilised
  nation1 gradually coming round to that
 which seemed to me1 when ,i first      
conceived of it1 a dream too chimerical 

to be cherished save in  secret--the    
restoring woman to her natural share in 
that sacred office of  healer1 which she
 held in the ,middle ,ages1 and from    
which she was thrust  out during the    
sixteenth century4    ,i am most happy  
to see1 for instance1 that the ,national
 ,health ,society1  #ae which ,i        
earnestly recommend to the attention of 
my readers1  announces a ,course of     
,lectures for ,ladies on ,elementary    
,physiology and  ,hygiene1 by ,miss     
,chessar1 to which ,i am also most happy
 to see1  governesses are admitted at   
half-fees4  ,alas6 how much misery1     
disease1  and even death1 might have    
been prevented1 had governesses been    
taught  such matters thirty years ago1  
,i1 for one1 know too well4  ,may the   
day  soon come when there will be       
educated women enough to give such      
lectures  throughout these realms1 to   
rich as well as poor1--for the rich1    
strange  to say1 need them often as much
 as the poor do1--and that we may live  

to  see1 in every great town1 health    
classes for women as well as for men1   
sending forth year by year more young   
women and young men taught1 not  only to
 take care of themselves and of their   
families1 but to exercise  moral        
influence over their fellow-citizens1 as
 champions in the battle  against dirt  
and drunkenness1 disease and death4     
,there may be those who would answer--or
 rather1 there would certainly  have    
been those who would have so answered   
thirty years ago1 before the  so-called 
materialism of advanced science had     
taught us some practical  wisdom about  
education1 and reminded people that they
 have bodies as well  as minds and      
souls--,you say1 we are likely to grow  
weaklier1  unhealthier4  ,and if it were
 so1 what matter8  ,mind makes the man1 
not  body4  ,we do not want our children
 to be stupid giants and bravos2 but    
clever1 able1 highly educated1 however  
weakly ,providence or the laws of       
nature may have chosen to make them4    

,let them overstrain their brains a     
little2 let them contract their chests1 
and injure their digestion and  their   
eyesight1 by sitting at desks1 poring   
over books4  ,intellect is  what we     
want4  ,intellect makes money4          
,intellect makes the world4  ,we  would 
rather see our son a genius than an     
athlete4  ,well3 and so would  ,i4  ,but
 what if intellect alone does not even  
make money1 save as ,messrs4  ,dodson   
,fogg1 ,sampson ,brass1 and ,montagu    
,tigg were wont to make it1  unless     
backed by an able1 enduring1 healthy    
physique1 such as ,i have  seen1 almost 
without exception1 in those successful  
men of business whom  ,i have had the   
honour and the pleasure of knowing8     
,what if intellect1 or  what is now     
called intellect1 did not make the      
world1 or the smallest  wheel or cog of 
it8  ,what if1 for want of obeying the  
laws of nature1  parents bred up neither
 a genius nor an athlete1 but only an   
incapable  unhappy personage1 with a    

huge upright forehead1 like that of a   
,byzantine  ,greek1 filled with some    
sort of pap instead of brains1 and      
tempted  alternately to fanaticism and  
strong drink8  ,we must1 in the great   
majority of cases have the corpus sanem 
if we want the mentem sanem2 and        
healthy bodies are the only trustworthy 
organs for healthy minds4  ,which  is   
cause and which is effect1 ,i shall not 
stay to debate here4  ,but  wherever we 
find a population generally weakly1     
stunted1 scrofulous1 we  find in them a 
corresponding type of brain1 which      
cannot be trusted to do  good work2     
which is capable more or less of        
madness1 whether solitary or  epidemic4 
,it may be very active2 it may be very  
quick at catching at new  and grand     
ideas--all the more quick1 perhaps1 on  
account of its own  secret malaise and  
self-discontent3 but it will be         
irritable1  spasmodic1 hysterical4  ,it 
will be apt to mistake capacity of talk 
for  capacity of action1 excitement for 

earnestness1 virulence for force1 and1  
too often1 cruelty for justice4  ,it    
will lose manful independence1          
individuality1 originality2 and when men
 act1 they will act1 from the           
consciousness of personal weakness1 like
 sheep rushing over a hedge1  leaning   
against each other1 exhorting each other
 to be brave1 and swaying  about in mobs
 and masses4  ,these were the           
intellectual weaknesses which1  as ,i   
read history1 followed on physical      
degradation in ,imperial ,rome1 in      
,alexandria1 in ,byzantium4  ,have we   
not seen them reappear1 under fearful   
forms1 in ,paris but the other day8     
,i do not blame2 ,i do not judge4  ,my  
theory1 which ,i hold1 and shall hold1  
to be fairly founded on a wide          
induction1 forbids me to blame and to   
judge3 because it tells me that these   
defects are mainly physical2 that  those
 who exhibit them are mainly to be      
pitied1 as victims of the sins or       
ignorance of their forefathers4  ,but it

 tells me too1 that those who1          
professing to be educated men1 and      
therefore bound to know better1 treat   
these physical phenomena as spiritual1  
healthy1 and praiseworthy2 who  even    
exasperate them1 that they may make     
capital out of the weaknesses of  fallen
 man1 are the most contemptible and yet 
the most dangerous of  public enemies1  
let them cloak their quackery under     
whatsoever patriotic1  or scientific1 or
 even sacred words4    ,there are those 
again honest1 kindly1 sensible1         
practical men1 many of  them2 men whom  
,i have no wish to offend2 whom ,i had  
rather ask to teach  me some of their   
own experience and common sense1 which  
has learned to  discern1 like good      
statesmen1 not only what ought to be    
done1 but what  can be done--there are  
those1 ,i say1 who would sooner see this
 whole  question let alone4  ,their     
feeling1 as far as ,i can analyse it1   
seems to  be1 that the evils of which ,i
 have been complaining1 are on the whole

  inevitable3 or1 if not1 that we can   
mend so very little of them1 that it  is
 wisest to leave them alone altogether1 
lest1 like certain sewers1 the  more you
 stir them1 the more they smell4  ,they 
fear lest we should  unsettle the minds 
of the many for whom these evils will   
never be mended2  lest we make them     
discontented2 discontented with their   
houses1 their  occupations1 their food1 
their whole social arrangements2 and all
 in  vain4    ,i should answer1 in all  
courtesy and humility--for ,i sympathise
 deeply  with such men and women1 and   
respect them deeply likewise--,but are  
not  people discontented already1 from  
the lowest to the highest8  ,and ought a
  man1 in such a piecemeal1 foolish1    
greedy1 sinful world as this is1 and    
always has been1 to be anything but     
discontented8  ,if he thinks that       
things are going all right1 must he not 
have a most beggarly conception  of what
 going right means8  ,and if things are 
not going right1 can it be  anything but

 good for him to see that they are not  
going right8  ,can  truth and fact harm 
any human being8  ,i shall not believe  
so1 as long as  ,i have a ,bible wherein
 to believe4  ,for my part1 ,i should   
like to make  every man1 woman1 and     
child whom ,i meet discontented with    
themselves1  even as ,i am discontented 
with myself4  ,i should like to awaken  
in them1  about their physical1 their   
intellectual1 their moral condition1    
that  divine discontent which is the    
parent1 first of upward aspiration and  
then of self-control1 thought1 effort to
 fulfil that aspiration even in  part4  
,for to be discontented with the divine 
discontent1 and to be  ashamed with the 
noble shame1 is the very germ and first 
upgrowth of all  virtue4  ,men begin at 
first1 as boys begin when they grumble  
at their  school and their              
schoolmasters1 to lay the blame on      
others2 to be  discontented with their  
circumstances--the things which stand   
around  them2 and to cry1 ,oh that ,i   

had this6  ,oh that ,i had that6  ,but  
that  way no deliverance lies4  ,that   
discontent only ends in revolt and      
rebellion1 social or political2 and     
that1 again1 still in the same  worship 
of circumstances--but this time         
desperate--which ends1 let it  disguise 
itself under what fine names it will1 in
 what the old ,greeks  called a tyranny2
 in which--as in the ,spanish republics 
of ,america1 and  in ,france more than  
once--all have become the voluntary     
slaves of one  man1 because each man    
fancies that the one man can improve his
  circumstances for him4    ,but the    
wise man will learn1 like ,epictetus the
 heroic slave1 the slave  of            
,epaphroditus1 ,nero's minion--and in   
what baser and uglier  circumstances    
could human being find himself8--to find
 out the secret of  being truly free2   
namely1 to be discontented with no man  
and no thing  save himself4  ,to say    
not--,oh that ,i had this and that6 but 
,oh that ,i  were this and that6  ,then1

 by ,god's help--and that heroic slave1 
heathen  though he was1 believed and    
trusted in ,god's help--,i will make    
myself  that which ,god has shown me    
that ,i ought to be and can be4    ,ten 
thousand a-year1 or ten million a-year1 
as ,epictetus saw full well1  cannot    
mend that vulgar discontent with        
circumstances1 which he had  felt--and  
who with more right8--and conquered1 and
 despised4  ,for that is  the discontent
 of children1 wanting always more       
holidays and more sweets4  ,but ,i wish 
my readers to have1 and to cherish1 the 
discontent of men and  women4           
,therefore ,i would make men and women  
discontented1 with the divine and       
wholesome discontent1 at their own      
physical frame1 and at that of their    
children4  ,i would accustom their eyes 
to those precious heirlooms of the      
human race1 the statues of the old      
,greeks2 to their tender grandeur1      
their chaste healthfulness1 their       
unconscious1 because perfect1 might3    

and say--,there2 these are tokens to    
you1 and to all generations yet  unborn1
 of what man could be once2 of what he  
can be again if he will  obey those laws
 of nature which are the voice of ,god4 
,i would make them  discontented with   
the ugliness and closeness of their     
dwellings2 ,i would  make the men       
discontented with the fashion of their  
garments1 and still  more just now the  
women1 of all ranks1 with the fashion of
 theirs2 and  with everything around    
them which they have the power of       
improving1 if it  be at all ungraceful1 
superfluous1 tawdry1 ridiculous1        
unwholesome4  ,i  would make them       
discontented with what they call their  
education1 and say  to them--,you call  
the three ,royal ,r's education8  ,they 
are not education3  no more is the      
knowledge which would enable you to take
 the highest  prizes given by the       
,society of ,arts1 or any other body4   
,they are not  education3 they are only 
instruction2 a necessary groundwork1 in 

an age  like this1 for making practical 
use of your education3 but not the      
education itself4    ,and if they asked 
me1 ,what then education meant8 ,i      
should point them1  first1 ,i think1 to 
noble old ,lilly's noble old ',euphues1'
 of three  hundred years ago1 and ask   
them to consider what it says about     
education1  and especially this passage 
concerning that mere knowledge which is 
now-a-  days strangely miscalled        
education4  ,there are two principal and
  peculiar gifts in the nature of man1  
knowledge and reason4  ,the one--that   
is reason--commandeth1 and the          
other--that is knowledge--obeyeth4      
,these things neither the whirling wheel
 of fortune can change1 nor the         
deceitful cavillings of worldlings      
separate1 neither sickness abate1 nor   
age abolish4  ,and next ,i should point 
them to those pages in ,mr4             
,gladstone's ',juventus ,mundi1' where  
he describes the ideal training of a    
,greek youth in ,homer's days2 and      

say1--,there3 that is an education fit  
for a really civilised man1 even though 
he never saw a book in his life2  the   
full1 proportionate1 harmonious         
educing--that is1 bringing out and      
developing--of all the faculties of his 
body1 mind1 and heart1 till he  becomes 
at once a reverent yet a self-assured1 a
 graceful and yet a  valiant1 an able   
and yet an eloquent personage4    ,and  
if any should say to me--,but what has  
this to do with science8  ,homer's      
,greeks knew no science2 ,i should      
rejoin--,but they had1  pre-eminently   
above all ancient races which we know1  
the scientific  instinct2 the           
teachableness and modesty2 the clear eye
 and quick ear2 the  hearty reverence   
for fact and nature1 and for the human  
body1 and mind1  and spirit2 for human  
nature1 in a word1 in its completeness1 
as the  highest fact upon this earth4   
,therefore they became in after years1  
not  only the great colonisers and the  
great civilisers of the old world--the  

most practical people1 ,i hold1 which   
the world ever saw2 but the parents  of 
all sound physics as well as of all     
sound metaphysics4  ,their very         
religion1 in spite of its imperfections1
 helped forward their education1  not in
 spite of1 but by means of1 that        
anthropomorphism which we  sometimes too
 hastily decry4  ,as ,mr4 ,gladstone    
says in a passage which ,i  must quote  
at length--,as regarded all other       
functions of our nature1  outside the   
domain of the life to ,godward--all     
those functions which are  summed up in 
what ,st4 ,paul calls the flesh and the 
mind1 the psychic and  bodily life1 the 
tendency of the system was to exalt the 
human element1  by proposing a model of 
beauty1 strength1 and wisdom1 in all    
their  combinations1 so elevated that   
the effort to attain them required a    
continual upward strain4  ,it made      
divinity attainable2 and thus it        
effectually directed the thought and aim
 of man       ',along the line of       

limitless desires4'    ,such a scheme of
 religion1 though failing grossly in the
 government of  the passions1 and in    
upholding the standard of moral duties1 
tended  powerfully to produce a lofty   
self-respect1 and a large1 free1 and    
varied  conception of humanity4  ,it    
incorporated itself in schemes of       
notable  discipline for mind and body1  
indeed of a lifelong education2 and     
these  habits of mind and action had    
their marked results 7to omit many other
  greatnesses7 in a philosophy1         
literature1 and art1 which remain to    
this  day unrivalled or unsurpassed4    
,so much those old ,greeks did for their
 own education1 without science and     
without ,christianity4  ,we who have    
both3 what might we not do1 if we  would
 be true to our advantages1 and to      
ourselves8          ,,the ,,two         
,,breaths4  ,a ,,lecture ,,delivered    
,,at ,,winchester1 ,,may #ca1 #ahfi4    
,ladies1--,i have been honoured by a    
second invitation to address you here1  

from the lady to whose public spirit the
 establishment of these lectures  is    
due4  ,i dare not refuse it3 because it 
gives me an opportunity of  speaking on 
a matter1 knowledge and ignorance about 
which may seriously  affect your health 
and happiness1 and that of the children 
with whom you  may have to do4  ,i must 
apologize if ,i say many things which   
are well  known to many persons in this 
room3 they ought to be well known to    
all2  and it is generally best to assume
 total ignorance in one's hearers1 and  
to begin from the beginning4    ,i shall
 try to be as simple as possible2 to    
trouble you as little as  possible with 
scientific terms2 to be practical2 and  
at the same time1 if  possible1         
interesting4    ,i should wish to call  
this lecture ,the ,two ,breaths3 not    
merely ,the  ,breath2 and for this      
reason3 every time you breathe1 you     
breathe two  different breaths2 you take
 in one1 you give out another4  ,the    
composition of those two breaths is     

different4  ,their effects are          
different4  ,the breath which has been  
breathed out must not be breathed  in   
again4  ,to tell you why it must not    
would lead me into anatomical  details1 
not quite in place here as yet3 though  
the day will come1 ,i  trust1 when every
 woman entrusted with the care of       
children will be  expected to know      
something about them4  ,but this ,i may 
say--,those who  habitually take in     
fresh breath will probably grow up      
large1 strong1  ruddy1 cheerful1 active1
 clear-headed1 fit for their work4      
,those who  habitually take in the      
breath which has been breathed out by   
themselves1  or any other living        
creature1 will certainly grow up1 if    
they grow up at  all1 small1 weak1 pale1
 nervous1 depressed1 unfit for work1 and
 tempted  continually to resort to      
stimulants1 and become drunkards4    ,if
 you want to see how different the      
breath breathed out is from the  breath 
taken in1 you have only to try a        

somewhat cruel experiment1 but  one     
which people too often try upon         
themselves1 their children1 and their   
work-people4  ,if you take any small    
animal with lungs like your own--a      
mouse1 for instance--and force it to    
breathe no air but what you have        
breathed already2 if you put it in a    
close box1 and while you take in  breath
 from the outer air1 send out your      
breath through a tube1 into that  box1  
the animal will soon faint2 if you go on
 long with this process1 it  will die4  
,take a second instance1 which ,i beg to
 press most seriously on the notice  of 
mothers1 governesses1 and nurses3 ,if   
you allow a child to get into the  habit
 of sleeping with its head under the    
bed-clothes1 and thereby  breathing its 
own breath over and over again1 that    
child will assuredly  grow pale1 weak1  
and ill4  ,medical men have cases on    
record of scrofula  appearing in        
children previously healthy1 which could
 only be accounted  for from this habit1

 and which ceased when the habit        
stopped4  ,let me  again entreat your   
attention to this undoubted fact4       
,take another instance1 which is only   
too common3 ,if you are in a crowded    
room1 with plenty of fire and lights and
 company1 doors and windows all  shut   
tight1 how often you feel faint--so     
faint1 that you may require             
smelling-salts or some other stimulant4 
,the cause of your faintness is  just   
the same as that of the mouse's fainting
 in the box3 you and your  friends1 and1
 as ,i shall show you presently1 the    
fire and the candles  likewise1 having  
been all breathing each other's breaths1
 over and over  again1 till the air has 
become unfit to support life4  ,you are 
doing your  best to enact over again the
 ,highland tragedy1 of which ,sir ,james
 ,simpson  tells in his lectures to the 
working-classes of ,edinburgh1 when at a
  ,christmas meeting thirty-six persons 
danced all night in a small room  with a
 low ceiling1 keeping the doors and     

windows shut4  ,the atmosphere  of the  
room was noxious beyond description2 and
 the effect was1 that  seven of the     
party were soon after seized with typhus
 fever1 of which two  died4  ,you are   
inflicting on yourselves the torments of
 the poor dog1 who  is kept at the      
,grotto del ,cane1 near ,naples1 to be  
stupified1 for the  amusement of        
visitors1 by the carbonic acid gas of   
the ,grotto1 and  brought to life again 
by being dragged into the fresh air2    
nay1 you are  inflicting upon yourselves
 the torments of the famous ,black ,hole
 of  ,calcutta2 and1 if there was no    
chimney in the room1 by which some fresh
  air could enter1 the candles would    
soon burn blue--as they do1 you know1   
when ghosts appear2 your brains become  
disturbed2 and you yourselves run  the  
risk of becoming ghosts1 and the candles
 of actually going out4    ,of this last
 fact there is no doubt2 for if1 instead
 of putting a mouse  into the box1 you  
will put a lighted candle1 and breathe  

into the tube1  as before1 however      
gently1 you will in a short time put the
 candle out4    ,now1 how is this8      
,first1 what is the difference between  
the breath you  take in and the breath  
you give out8  ,and next1 why has it a  
similar  effect on animal life and a    
lighted candle8    ,the difference is   
this4  ,the breath which you take in is1
 or ought to be1  pure air1 composed1 on
 the whole1 of oxygen and nitrogen1 with
 a minute  portion of carbonic acid4    
,the breath which you give out is an    
impure air1 to which has been added1    
among other matters which will not      
support life1 an excess of carbonic     
acid4    ,that this is the fact you can 
prove for yourselves by a simple        
experiment4  ,get a little lime water at
 the chemist's1 and breathe into  it    
through a glass tube2 your breath will  
at once make the lime-water  milky4     
,the carbonic acid of your breath has   
laid hold of the lime1 and  made it     
visible as white carbonate of lime--in  

plain ,english1 as common  chalk4       
,now1 ,i do not wish1 as ,i said1 to    
load your memories with scientific      
terms3 but ,i beseech you to remember at
 least these two--oxygen gas and        
carbonic acid gas2 and to remember that1
 as surely as oxygen feeds the  fire of 
life1 so surely does carbonic acid put  
it out4    ,i say1 the fire of life4    
,in that expression lies the answer to  
our  second question3 ,why does our     
breath produce a similar effect upon the
  mouse and the lighted candle8  ,every 
one of us is1 as it were1 a living      
fire4  ,were we not1 how could we be    
always warmer than the air outside  us8 
,there is a process going on perpetually
 in each of us1 similar to  that by     
which coals are burnt in the fire1 oil  
in a lamp1 wax in a  candle1 and the    
earth itself in a volcano4  ,to keep    
each of those fires  alight1 oxygen is  
needed2 and the products of combustion1 
as they are  called1 are more or less   
the same in each case--carbonic acid and

 steam4    ,these facts justify the     
expression ,i just made use of--which   
may have  seemed to some of you         
fantastical--that the fire and the      
candles in the  crowded room were       
breathing the same breath as you were4  
,it is but too  true4  ,an average fire 
in the grate requires1 to keep it       
burning1 as much  oxygen as several     
human beings do2 each candle or lamp    
must have its  share of oxygen likewise1
 and that a very considerable one2 and  
an  average gas-burner--pray attend to  
this1 you who live in rooms lighted     
with gas--consumes as much oxygen as    
several candles4  ,all alike are  making
 carbonic acid4  ,the carbonic acid of  
the fire happily escapes up  the chimney
 in the smoke3 but the carbonic acid    
from the human beings and  the candles  
remains to poison the room1 unless it be
 ventilated4    ,now1 ,i think you may  
understand one of the simplest1 and yet 
most  terrible1 cases of want of        
ventilation--death by the fumes of      

charcoal4  ,a  human being shut up in a 
room1 of which every crack is closed1   
with a pan  of burning charcoal1 falls  
asleep1 never to wake again4  ,his      
inward fire  is competing with the fire 
of the charcoal for the oxygen of the   
room2  both are making carbonic acid out
 of it3 but the charcoal1 being the     
stronger of the two1 gets all the oxygen
 to itself1 and leaves the human  being 
nothing to inhale but the carbonic acid 
which it has made4  ,the  human being1  
being the weaker1 dies first3 but the   
charcoal dies also4  ,when it has       
exhausted all the oxygen of the room1 it
 cools1 goes out1 and  is found in the  
morning half-consumed beside its victim4
  ,if you put a  giant or an elephant1  
,i should conceive1 into that room1     
instead of a  human being1 the case     
would be reversed for a time3 the       
elephant would  put out the burning     
charcoal by the carbonic acid from his  
mighty lungs2  and then1 when he had    
exhausted all the air in the room1 die  

likewise of  his own carbonic acid4     
99 99 99 99 99    ,now1 ,i think1 we may
 see what ventilation means1 and why it 
is needed4    ,ventilation means simply 
letting out the foul air1 and letting in
 the  fresh air2 letting out the air    
which has been breathed by men or by    
candles1 and letting in the air which   
has not4  ,to understand how to do      
that1 we must remember a most simple    
chemical law1 that a gas as it is       
warmed expands1 and therefore becomes   
lighter2 as it cools1 it contracts1  and
 becomes heavier4    ,now the carbonic  
acid in the breath which comes out of   
our mouth is warm1  lighter than the    
air1 and rises to the ceiling2 and      
therefore in any  unventilated room full
 of people1 there is a layer of foul air
 along the  ceiling4  ,you might soon   
test that for yourselves1 if you could  
mount a  ladder and put your heads there
 aloft4  ,you do test it for yourselves 
when you sit in the galleries of        
churches and theatres1 where the air is 

palpably more foul1 and therefore more  
injurious1 than down below4    ,where1  
again1 work-people are employed in a    
crowded house of many  storeys1 the     
health of those who work on the upper   
floors always suffers  most4    ,in the 
old monkey-house of the ,zoological     
,gardens1 when the cages were on  the   
old plan1 tier upon tier1 the poor      
little fellows in the uppermost         
tier--so ,i have been told--always died 
first of the monkey's  constitutional   
complaint1 consumption1 simply from     
breathing the warm  breath of their     
friends below4  ,but since the cages    
have been altered1  and made to range   
side by side from top to bottom1        
consumption--,i  understand--has vastly 
diminished among them4    ,the first    
question in ventilation1 therefore1 is  
to get this carbonic  acid safe out of  
the room1 while it is warm and light and
 close to the  ceiling2 for if you do   
not1 this happens--,the carbonic acid   
gas cools and  becomes heavier2 for     

carbonic acid1 at the same temperature  
as common  air1 is so much heavier than 
common air1 that you may actually--if   
you  are handy enough--turn it from one 
vessel to another1 and pour out for     
your enemy a glass of invisible poison4 
,so down to the floor this heavy        
carbonic acid comes1 and lies along it1 
just as it lies often in the  bottom of 
old wells1 or old brewers' vats1 as a   
stratum of poison1  killing occasionally
 the men who descend into it4  ,hence1  
as foolish a  practice as ,i know is    
that of sleeping on the floor2 for      
towards the  small hours1 when the room 
gets cold1 the sleeper on the floor is  
breathing carbonic acid4    ,and here   
one word to those ladies who interest   
themselves with the poor4  ,the poor are
 too apt in times of distress to pawn   
their bedsteads and  keep their beds4   
,never1 if you have influence1 let that 
happen4  ,keep  the bedstead1 whatever  
else may go1 to save the sleeper from   
the carbonic  acid on the floor4        

,how1 then1 shall we get rid of the foul
 air at the top of the room8  ,after    
all that has been written and tried on  
ventilation1 ,i know no simpler  method 
than putting into the chimney one of    
,arnott's ventilators1 which  may be    
bought and fixed for a few shillings2   
always remembering that it  must be     
fixed into the chimney as near the      
ceiling as possible4  ,i can  speak of  
these ventilators from twenty-five      
years' experience4  ,living in  a house 
with low ceilings1 liable to become     
overcharged with carbonic  acid1 which  
produces sleepiness in the evening1 ,i  
have found that these  ventilators keep 
the air fresh and pure2 and ,i consider 
the presence of  one of these           
ventilators in a room more valuable than
 three or four feet  additional height  
of ceiling4  ,i have found1 too1 that   
their working  proves how necessary they
 are1 from this simple fact3--,you would
 suppose  that1 as the ventilator opens 
freely into the chimney1 the smoke would

 be  blown down through it in high      
winds1 and blacken the ceiling3 but this
 is  just what does not happen4  ,if the
 ventilator be at all properly poised1  
so as to shut with a violent gust of    
wind1 it will at all other moments  keep
 itself permanently open2 proving       
thereby that there is an up-draught  of 
heated air continually escaping from the
 ceiling up the chimney4  ,another very 
simple method of ventilation is employed
 in those excellent  cottages which ,her
 ,majesty has built for her labourers   
round ,windsor4  ,over each door a sheet
 of perforated zinc1 some #ah inches    
square1 is  fixed2 allowing the foul air
 to escape into the passage2 and in the 
ceiling of the passage a similar sheet  
of zinc1 allowing it to escape  into the
 roof4  ,fresh air1 meanwhile1 should be
 obtained from outside1 by  piercing the
 windows1 or otherwise4  ,and here let  
me give one hint to all  builders of    
houses4  ,if possible1 let bedroom      
windows open at the top as  well as at  

the bottom4    ,let me impress the      
necessity of using some such            
contrivances1 not only on  parents and  
educators1 but on those who employ      
work-people1 and above all  on those who
 employ young women in shops or in      
work-rooms4  ,what their  condition may 
be in this city ,i know not2 but most   
painful it has been to  me in other     
places1 when passing through warehouses 
or work-rooms1 to see  the pale1 sodden1
 and1 as the ,french would say etiolated
 countenances  of the girls who were    
passing the greater part of the day in  
them2 and  painful1 also1 to breathe an 
atmosphere of which habit had1 alas6    
made  them unconscious1 but which to one
 coming out of the open air was         
altogether noxious1 and shocking also2  
for it was fostering the seeds of       
death1 not only in the present but in   
future generations4    ,why should this 
be8  ,every one will agree that good    
ventilation is  necessary in a hospital1
 because people cannot get well without 

fresh  air4  ,do they not see that by   
the same reasoning good ventilation is  
necessary everywhere1 because people    
cannot remain well without fresh  air8  
,let me entreat those who employ women  
in work-rooms1 if they have  no time to 
read through such books as ,dr4 ,andrew 
,combe's ',physiology  applied to       
,health and ,education1' and ,madame de 
,wahl's ',practical ,hints  on the      
,moral1 ,mental1 and ,physical ,training
 of ,girls1' to procure certain  tracts 
published by ,messrs4 ,jarrold1         
,paternoster ,row1 for the ,ladies'     
,sanitary ,association2 especially one  
which bears on this subject1 ',the      
,black-,hole in our own ,bedrooms2' ,dr4
 ,lankester's ',school ,manual of       
,health2' or a manual on ventilation1   
published by the ,metropolitan  ,working
 ,classes ,association for the          
,improvement of ,public ,health4    ,i  
look forward--,i say it openly--to some 
period of higher civilisation1  when the
 ,acts of ,parliament for the           

ventilation of factories and  workshops 
shall be largely extended1 and made far 
more stringent2 when  officers of public
 health shall be empowered to enforce   
the ventilation  of every room in which 
persons are employed for hire2 and      
empowered also  to demand a proper      
system of ventilation for every new     
house1 whether in  country or in town4  
,to that1 ,i believe1 we must come3 but 
,i had sooner  far see these            
improvements carried out1 as befits the 
citizens of a free  country1 in the     
spirit of the ,gospel rather than in    
that of the ,law2  carried out1 not     
compulsorily and from fear of fines1 but
 voluntarily1  from a sense of duty1    
honour1 and humanity4  ,i appeal1       
therefore1 to the  good feeling of all  
whom it may concern1 whether the health 
of those whom  they employ1 and         
therefore the supply of fresh air which 
they absolutely  need1 are not matters  
for which they are not1 more or less1   
responsible  to their country and their 

,god4    ,and if any excellent person of
 the old school should answer me--,why  
make  all this fuss about ventilation8  
,our forefathers got on very well       
without it--,i must answer that1 begging
 their pardons1 our ancestors did       
nothing of the kind4  ,our ancestors got
 on usually very ill in these  matters3 
and when they got on well1 it was       
because they had good  ventilation in   
spite of themselves4    ,first4  ,they  
got on very ill4  ,to quote a few       
remarkable instances of  longevity1 or  
to tell me that men were larger and     
stronger on the average  in old times1  
is to yield to the old fallacy of       
fancying that savages  were peculiarly  
healthy1 because those who were seen    
were active and  strong4  ,the simple   
answer is1 that the strong alone        
survived1 while the  majority died from 
the severity of the training4  ,savages 
do not increase  in number2 and our     
ancestors increased but very slowly for 
many  centuries4  ,i am not going to    

disgust my audience with statistics of  
disease3 but knowing something1 as ,i   
happen to do1 of the social state  and  
of the health of the ,middle and        
,elizabethan ,ages1 ,i have no          
hesitation in saying that the average of
 disease and death was far  greater then
 than it is now4  ,epidemics of many    
kinds1 typhus1 ague1  plague--all       
diseases which were caused more or less 
by bad air--devastated  this land and   
,europe in those days with a horrible   
intensity1 to which  even the choleras  
of our times are mild4  ,the back       
streets1 the  hospitals1 the gaols1 the 
barracks1 the camps--every place in     
which any  large number of persons      
congregated1 were so many nests of      
pestilence1  engendered by              
uncleanliness1 which denied alike the   
water which was drunk  and the air which
 was breathed2 and as a single fact1 of 
which the tables  of insurance companies
 assure us1 the average of human life in
 ,england  has increased twenty-five per

 cent4 since the reign of ,george ,i41  
owing  simply to our more rational and  
cleanly habits of life4    ,but         
secondly1 ,i said that when our         
ancestors got on well1 they did so      
because they got ventilation in spite of
 themselves4  ,luckily for them1  their 
houses were ill-built2 their doors and  
windows would not shut4  ,they  had     
lattice-windowed houses1 too2 to live in
 one of which1 as ,i can  testify from  
long experience1 is as thoroughly       
ventilating as living in a  lantern with
 the horn broken out4  ,it was because  
their houses were full  of draughts1 and
 still more1 in the early middle age1   
because they had no  glass1 and stopped 
out the air only by a shutter at night1 
that they  sought for shelter rather    
than for fresh air1 of which they       
sometimes had  too much2 and1 to escape 
the wind1 built their houses in holes1  
such as  that in which the old city of  
,winchester stands4  ,shelter1 ,i       
believe1 as  much as the desire to be   

near fish in ,lent1 and to occupy the   
rich  alluvium of the valleys1 made the 
monks of ,old ,england choose the river-
  banks for the sites of their abbeys4  
,they made a mistake therein1 which1    
like most mistakes1 did not go          
unpunished4  ,these low situations1     
especially while the forests were yet   
thick on the hills around1 were the     
perennial haunts of fever and ague1     
produced by subtle vegetable poisons1   
carried in the carbonic acid given off  
by rotting vegetation4  ,so there1      
again1 they fell in with man's old      
enemy--bad air4    ,still1 as long as   
the doors and windows did not shut1 some
 free  circulation of air remained4     
,but now1 our doors and windows shut    
only  too tight4  ,we have plate-glass  
instead of lattices2 and we have        
replaced  the draughty and smoky1 but   
really wholesome open chimney1 with its 
wide  corners and settles1 by narrow    
registers1 and even by stoves4  ,we have
  done all we can1 in fact1 to seal     

ourselves up hermetically from the      
outer air1 and to breathe our own       
breaths over and over again2 and we pay 
the penalty of it in a thousand ways    
unknown to our ancestors1 through  whose
 rooms all the winds of heaven whistled1
 and who were glad enough to  shelter   
themselves from draughts in the         
sitting-room by the high screen  round  
the fire1 and in the sleeping-room by   
the thick curtains of the  four-post    
bedstead1 which is now rapidly          
disappearing before a higher            
civilisation4  ,we therefore absolutely 
require to make for ourselves the  very 
ventilation from which our ancestors    
tried to escape4    ,but1 ladies1 there 
is an old and true proverb1 that you may
 bring a horse  to the water1 but you   
cannot make him drink4  ,and in like    
wise it is too  true1 that you may bring
 people to the fresh air1 but you cannot
 make  them breathe it4  ,their own     
folly1 or the folly of their parents and
  educators1 prevents their lungs being 

duly filled and duly emptied4           
,therefore1 the blood is not duly       
oxygenated1 and the whole system goes   
wrong4    ,paleness1 weakness1          
consumption1 scrofula1 and too many     
other ailments1  are the consequences of
 ill-filled lungs4  ,for without        
well-filled lungs1  robust health is    
impossible4    ,and if any one shall    
answer--,we do not want robust health so
 much as  intellectual attainment4  ,the
 mortal body1 being the lower organ1    
must  take its chance1 and be even      
sacrificed1 if need be1 to the higher   
organ--the immortal mind3--,to such ,i  
reply1 ,you cannot do it4  ,the laws  of
 nature1 which are the express will of  
,god1 laugh such attempts to  scorn4    
,every organ of the body is formed out  
of the blood2 and if the  blood be      
vitiated1 every organ suffers in        
proportion to its delicacy2 and  the    
brain1 being the most delicate and      
highly specialised of all organs1       
suffers most of all and soonest of all1 

as every one knows who has tried  to    
work his brain when his digestion was   
the least out of order4  ,nay1  the very
 morals will suffer4  ,from ill-filled  
lungs1 which signify ill-  repaired     
blood1 arise year by year an amount not 
merely of disease1 but  of folly1       
temper1 laziness1 intemperance1 madness1
 and1 let me tell you  fairly1          
crime--the sum of which will never be   
known till that great day  when men     
shall be called to account for all deeds
 done in the body1  whether they be good
 or evil4    ,i must refer you on this  
subject again to ,andrew ,combe's       
',physiology1'  especially chapters iv4 
and vii42 and also to chapter x4 of     
,madame de  ,wahl's excellent book4  ,i 
will only say this shortly1 that the    
three most  common causes of ill-filled 
lungs1 in children and in young ladies1 
are  stillness1 silence1 and stays4     
,first1 stillness2 a sedentary life1 and
 want of exercise4  ,a girl is kept  for
 hours sitting on a form writing or     

reading1 to do which she must lean      
forward2 and if her schoolmistress      
cruelly attempts to make her sit        
upright1 and thereby keep the spine in  
an attitude for which ,nature did  not  
intend it1 she is thereby doing her best
 to bring on that disease1 so  fearfully
 common in girls' schools1 lateral      
curvature of the spine4  ,but           
practically the girl will stoop forward4
  ,and what happens8  ,the lower  ribs  
are pressed into the body1 thereby      
displacing more or less something       
inside4  ,the diaphragm in the meantime1
 which is the very bellows of the       
lungs1 remains loose2 the lungs are     
never properly filled or emptied2 and   
an excess of carbonic acid accumulates  
at the bottom of them4  ,what  follows8 
,frequent sighing to get rid of it2     
heaviness of head2  depression of the   
whole nervous system under the influence
 of the poison  of the lungs2 and when  
the poor child gets up from her weary   
work1 what  is the first thing she      

probably does8  ,she lifts up her chest1
 stretches1  yawns1 and breathes        
deeply--,nature's voice1 ,nature's      
instinctive cure1  which is probably    
regarded as ungraceful1 as what is      
called lolling is4  ,as if sitting      
upright was not an attitude in itself   
essentially  ungraceful1 and such as no 
artist would care to draw4  ,as if      
lolling1  which means putting the body  
in the attitude of the most perfect ease
  compatible with a fully expanded      
chest1 was not in itself essentially    
graceful1 and to be seen in every       
reposing figure in ,greek bas-reliefs   
and vases2 graceful1 and like all       
graceful actions1 healthful at the same 
time4  ,the only tolerably wholesome    
attitude of repose1 which ,i see        
allowed in average school-rooms1 is     
lying on the back on the floor1 or on  a
 sloping board1 in which case the lungs 
must be fully expanded4  ,but  even so1 
a pillow1 or some equivalent1 ought to  
be placed under the small  of the back3 

or the spine will be strained at its    
very weakest point4    ,i now go on to  
the second mistake--enforced silence4   
,moderate reading  aloud is good3 but   
where there is any tendency to          
irritability of throat  or lungs1 too   
much moderation cannot be used4  ,you   
may as well try to  cure a diseased lung
 by working it1 as to cure a lame horse 
by galloping  him4  ,but where the      
breathing organs are of average health1 
let it be  said once and for all1 that  
children and young people cannot make   
too  much noise4  ,the parents who      
cannot bear the noise of their children 
have  no right to have brought them into
 the world4  ,the schoolmistress who    
enforces silence on her pupils is       
committing--unintentionally no doubt1   
but still committing--an offence against
 reason1 worthy only of a  convent4     
,every shout1 every burst of laughter1  
every song--nay1 in the  case of        
infants1 as physiologists well know1    
every moderate fit of  crying--conduces 

to health1 by rapidly filling and       
emptying the lung1 and  changing the    
blood more rapidly from black to red1   
that is1 from death to  life4  ,andrew  
,combe tells a story of a large charity 
school1 in which the  young girls were1 
for the sake of their health1 shut up in
 the hall and  school-room during play  
hours1 from ,november till ,march1 and  
no romping  or noise allowed4  ,the     
natural consequences were1 the great    
majority of  them fell ill2 and ,i am   
afraid that a great deal of illness has 
been from  time to time contracted in   
certain school-rooms1 simply through    
this one  cause of enforced silence4    
,some cause or other there must be for  
the  amount of ill-health and weakliness
 which prevails especially among girls  
of the middle classes in towns1 who have
 not1 poor things1 the  opportunities   
which richer girls have1 of keeping     
themselves in strong  health by riding1 
skating1 archery--that last quite an    
admirable exercise  for the chest and   

lungs1 and far preferable to croquet1   
which involves  too much unwholesome    
stooping4--,even playing at ball1 if    
milliners and  shop-girls had room to   
indulge in one after their sedentary    
work1 might  bring fresh spirits to many
 a heart1 and fresh colour to many a    
cheek4  ,i  spoke just now of the       
,greeks4  ,i suppose you will all allow 
that the  ,greeks were1 as far as we    
know1 the most beautiful race which the 
world  ever saw4  ,every educated man   
knows that they were also the cleverest 
of  all races2 and1 next to his ,bible1 
thanks ,god for ,greek literature4      
,now1 these people had made physical as 
well as intellectual education a        
science as well as a study4  ,their     
women practised graceful1 and in some   
cases even athletic1 exercises4  ,they  
developed1 by a free and healthy  life1 
those figures which remain everlasting  
and unapproachable models of  human     
beauty3 but--to come to my third        
point--they wore no stays4  ,the  first 

mention of stays that ,i have ever found
 is in the letters of dear  old         
,synesius1 ,bishop of ,cyrene1 on the   
,greek coast of ,africa1 about four     
hundred years after the ,christian era4 
,he tells us how1 when he was           
shipwrecked on a remote part of the     
coast1 and he and the rest of the       
passengers were starving on cockles and 
limpets1 there was among them a  slave  
girl out of the far ,east1 who had a    
pinched wasp-waist1 such as you  may see
 on the old ,hindoo sculptures1 and such
 as you may see in any  street in a     
,british town4  ,and when the ,greek    
ladies of the neighbourhood  found her  
out1 they sent for her from house to    
house1 to behold1 with  astonishment and
 laughter1 this new and prodigious      
waist1 with which it  seemed to them it 
was impossible for a human being to     
breathe or live2  and they petted the   
poor girl1 and fed her1 as they might a 
dwarf or a  giantess1 till she got quite
 fat and comfortable1 while her owners  

had  not enough to eat4  ,so strange and
 ridiculous seemed our present fashion  
to the descendants of those who1        
centuries before1 had imagined1 because 
they had seen living and moving1 those  
glorious statues which we pretend  to   
admire1 but refuse to imitate4    ,it   
seems to me that a few centuries hence1 
when mankind has learnt to  fear ,god   
more1 and therefore to obey more        
strictly those laws of nature  and of   
science which are the will of ,god--it  
seems to me1 ,i say1 that in  those days
 the present fashion of tight lacing    
will be looked back upon  as a          
contemptible and barbarous superstition1
 denoting a very low level  of          
civilisation in the peoples which have  
practised it4  ,that for  generations   
past women should have been in the      
habit--not to please men1  who do not   
care about the matter as a point of     
beauty--but simply to vie  with each    
other in obedience to something called  
fashion--that they  should1 ,i say1 have

 been in the habit of deliberately      
crushing that part  of the body which   
should be specially left free1          
contracting and  displacing their lungs1
 their heart1 and all the most vital and
 important  organs1 and entailing       
thereby disease1 not only on themselves 
but on  their children after them2 that 
for forty years past physicians should  
have been telling them of the folly of  
what they have been doing3 and  that    
they should as yet1 in the great        
majority of cases1 not only turn a  deaf
 ear to all warnings1 but actually deny 
the offence1 of which one  glance of the
 physician or the sculptor1 who know    
what shape the human  body ought to be1 
brings them in guilty3 this1 ,i say1 is 
an instance  of--what shall ,i call     
it8--which deserves at once the lash1   
not merely of  the satirist1 but of any 
theologian who really believes that ,god
 made the  physical universe4  ,let me1 
,i pray you1 appeal to your common sense
 for a  moment4  ,when any one chooses a

 horse or a dog1 whether for strength1  
for  speed1 or for any other useful     
purpose1 the first thing almost to be   
looked at is the girth round the ribs2  
the room for heart and lungs4  ,exactly 
in proportion to that will be the       
animal's general healthiness1  power of 
endurance1 and value in many other ways4
  ,if you will look at  eminent lawyers 
and famous orators1 who have attained a 
healthy old age1  you will see that in  
every case they are men1 like the late  
,lord  ,palmerston1 and others whom ,i  
could mention1 of remarkable size1 not  
merely in the upper1 but in the lower   
part of the chest2 men who had1         
therefore1 a peculiar power of using the
 diaphragm to fill and to clear  the    
lungs1 and therefore to oxygenate the   
blood of the whole body4  ,now1  it is  
just these lower ribs1 across which the 
diaphragm is stretched like  the head of
 a drum1 which stays contract to a      
minimum4  ,if you advised  owners of    
horses and hounds to put their horses or

 their hounds into  stays1 and lace them
 up tight1 in order to increase their   
beauty1 you  would receive1 ,i doubt    
not1 a very courteous1 but certainly a  
very  decided1 refusal to do that which 
would spoil not merely the animals      
themselves1 but the whole stud or the   
whole kennel for years to come4  ,and   
if you advised an orator to put himself 
into tight stays1 he1 no doubt1  again  
would give a courteous answer2 but he   
would reply--if he was a  really        
educated man--that to comply with your  
request would involve his  giving up    
public work1 under the probable penalty 
of being dead within  the twelvemonth4  
,and how much work of every kind1       
intellectual as well as physical1 is    
spoiled or hindered2 how many deaths    
occur from consumption and other        
complaints which are the result of this 
habit of tight lacing1 is known  partly 
to the medical men1 who lift up their   
voices in vain1 and known  fully to ,him
 who will not interfere with the least  

of ,his own physical  laws to save human
 beings from the consequences of their  
own wilful  folly4    ,and now--to end  
this lecture with more pleasing         
thoughts--,what becomes of  this breath 
which passes from your lips8  ,is it    
merely harmful2 merely  waste8  ,god    
forbid6  ,god has forbidden that        
anything should be merely  harmful or   
merely waste in this so wise and        
well-made world4  ,the  carbonic acid   
which passes from your lips at every    
breath--ay1 even that  which oozes from 
the volcano crater when the eruption is 
past--is a  precious boon to thousands  
of things of which you have daily need4 
,indeed  there is a sort of hint at     
physical truth in the old fairy tale of 
the  girl1 from whose lips1 as she      
spoke1 fell pearls and diamonds2 for the
  carbonic acid of your breath may help 
hereafter to make the pure  carbonate of
 lime of a pearl1 or the still purer    
carbon of a diamond4  ,nay1 it may      
go--in such a world of transformations  

do we live--to make  atoms of coal      
strata1 which shall lie buried for ages 
beneath deep seas1  shall be upheaved in
 continents which are yet unborn1 and   
there be burnt  for the use of a future 
race of men1 and resolved into their    
original  elements4  ,coal1 wise men    
tell us1 is on the whole breath and     
sunlight2  the breath of living         
creatures who have lived in the vast    
swamps and  forests of some primaeval   
world1 and the sunlight which transmuted
 that  breath into the leaves and stems 
of trees1 magically locked up for ages  
in that black stone1 to become1 when it 
is burnt at last1 light and  carbonic   
acid1 as it was at first4  ,for though  
you must not breathe your  breath again1
 you may at least eat your breath1 if   
you will allow the sun  to transmute it 
for you into vegetables2 or you may     
enjoy its fragrance  and its colour in  
the shape of a lily or a rose4  ,when   
you walk in a  sunlit garden1 every word
 you speak1 every breath you breathe1 is

 feeding  the plants and flowers around4
  ,the delicate surface of the green    
leaves  absorbs the carbonic acid1 and  
parts it into its elements1 retaining   
the  carbon to make woody fibre1 and    
courteously returning you the oxygen to 
mingle with the fresh air1 and be       
inhaled by your lungs once more4  ,thus 
do you feed the plants2 just as the     
plants feed you2 while the great life-  
giving sun feeds both2 and the geranium 
standing in the sick child's  window    
does not merely rejoice his eye and mind
 by its beauty and  freshness1 but      
repays honestly the trouble spent on it2
 absorbing the  breath which the child  
needs not1 and giving to him the breath 
which he  needs4    ,so are the services
 of all things constituted according to 
a ,divine and  wonderful order1 and knit
 together in mutual dependence and      
mutual  helpfulness4--,a fact to be     
remembered with hope and comfort2 but   
also  with awe and fear4  ,for as in    
that which is above nature1 so in nature

  itself2 he that breaks one physical   
law is guilty of all4  ,the whole       
universe1 as it were1 takes up arms     
against him2 and all nature1 with her   
numberless and unseen powers1 is ready  
to avenge herself on him1 and on  his   
children after him1 he knows not when   
nor where4  ,he1 on the other  hand1 who
 obeys the laws of nature with his whole
 heart and mind1 will  find all things  
working together to him for good4  ,he  
is at peace with  the physical universe4
  ,he is helped and befriended alike by 
the sun  above his head and the dust    
beneath his feet3 because he is obeying 
the  will and mind of ,him who made sun1
 and dust1 and all things2 and who has  
given them a law which cannot be broken4
          ,,the ,,tree ,,of ,,knowledge4
      ,the more ,i have contemplated    
that ancient story of the ,fall1 the    
more it  has seemed to me within the    
range of probability1 and even of       
experience4  ,it must have happened     
somewhere for the first time2 for it has

 happened  only too many times since4   
,it has happened1 as far as ,i can      
ascertain1  in every race1 and every    
age1 and every grade of civilisation4   
,it is  happening round us now in every 
region of the globe4  ,always and       
everywhere1 it seems to me1 have poor   
human beings been tempted to eat of     
some tree of knowledge1 that they may   
be1 even for an hour1 as gods2  wise1   
but with a false wisdom2 careless1 but  
with a frantic carelessness2  and happy1
 but with a happiness which1 when the   
excitement is past1  leaves too         
often--as with that hapless pair in     
,eden--depression1 shame1  and fear4    
,everywhere1 and in all ages1 as far as 
,i can ascertain1 has  man been         
inventing stimulants and narcotics to   
supply that want of  vitality of which  
he is so painfully aware2 and has asked 
nature1 and not  ,god1 to clear the dull
 brain1 and comfort the weary spirit4   
,this has been1 and will be perhaps for 
many a century to come1 almost the  most

 fearful failing of this poor1          
exceptional1 over-organised1 diseased1  
and truly fallen being called man1 who  
is in doubt daily whether he be a  god  
or an ape2 and in trying wildly to      
become the former1 ends but too  often  
in becoming the latter4    ,for man1    
whether savage or civilised1 feels1 and 
has felt in every age1  that there is   
something wrong with him4  ,he usually  
confesses this  fact--as is to be       
expected--of his fellow-men1 rather than
 of himself2  and shows his sense that  
there is something wrong with them by   
complaining of1 hating1 and killing     
them4  ,but he cannot always conceal    
from himself the fact that he1 too1 is  
wrong1 as well as they2 and as he  will 
not usually kill himself1 he tries wild 
ways to make himself at  least feel--if 
not to be--somewhat better4             
,philosophers may bid him be  content2  
and tell him that he is what he ought to
 be1 and what nature has  made him4     
,but he cares nothing for the           

philosophers4  ,he knows1 usually1  that
 he is not what he ought to be2 that he 
carries about with him1 in  most cases1 
a body more or less diseased and        
decrepit1 incapable of doing  all the   
work which he feels that he himself     
could do1 or expressing all  the        
emotions which he himself longs to      
express2 a dull brain and dull  senses1 
which cramp the eager infinity within   
him2 as--so ,goethe once  said with     
pity--the horse's single hoof cramps the
 fine intelligence and  generosity of   
his nature1 and forbids him even to     
grasp an object1 like  the more stupid  
cat1 and baser monkey4  ,and man has a  
self1 too1 within1  from which he longs 
too often to escape1 as from a household
 ghost2 who  pulls out1 at unfortunately
 rude and unwelcome hours1 the ledger of
  memory4  ,and so when the tempter--be 
he who he may--says to him ,take  this1 
and you will 'feel better'--,take this1 
and you shall be as gods1  knowing good 
and evil3 then1 if the temptation was1  

as the old story  says1 too much for man
 while healthy and unfallen1 what must  
it be for  his unhealthy and fallen     
children8  ,in vain we say to man--     
',tis life1 not death1 for which you    
pant2     ',tis life1 whereof your      
nerves are scant2     ,more life1 and   
fuller1 that you want4    ,and your tree
 of knowledge is not the tree of life3  
it is1 in every case1  the tree of      
death2 of decrepitude1 madness1 misery4 
,he prefers the voice  of the           
tempter--,thou shalt not surely die4    
,nay1 he will say at  last1--,better be 
as gods awhile1 and die3 than be the    
crawling1  insufficient thing ,i am2 and
 live4    ,he--did ,i say8  ,alas6  ,i  
must say she likewise4  ,the sacred     
story is only  too true to fact1 when it
 represents the woman as falling1 not   
merely at  the same time as the man1 but
 before the man4  ,only let us remember 
that  it represents the woman as        
tempted2 tempted1 seemingly1 by a       
rational  being1 of lower race1 and yet 

of superior cunning2 who must1          
therefore1  have fallen before the      
woman4  ,who or what the being was1 who 
is called  the ,serpent in our          
translation of ,genesis1 it is not for  
me to say4  ,we  have absolutely1 ,i    
think1 no facts from which to judge2 and
 ,rabbinical  traditions need trouble no
 man much4  ,but ,i fancy that a        
missionary1  preaching on this story to 
,negroes2 telling them plainly that the 
,serpent meant the first ,obeah man2 and
 then comparing the experiences  of that
 hapless pair in ,eden1 with their own  
after certain orgies not yet  extinct in
 ,africa and elsewhere1 would be only   
too well understood3 so  well1 indeed1  
that he might run some risk of eating   
himself1 not of the  tree of life1 but  
of that of death4  ,the sorcerer or     
sorceress tempting  the woman2 and then 
the woman tempting the man2 this seems  
to be1  certainly among savage peoples1 
and1 alas6 too often among civilised    
peoples also1 the usual course of the   

world-wide tragedy4    ,but--paradoxical
 as it may seem--the woman's yielding   
before the man is  not altogether to her
 dishonour1 as those old monks used to  
allege who  hated1 and too often        
tortured1 the sex whom they could not   
enjoy4  ,it is  not to the woman's      
dishonour1 if she felt1 before her      
husband1 higher  aspirations than those 
after mere animal pleasure4  ,to be as  
gods1  knowing good and evil1 is a vain 
and foolish1 but not a base and brutal1 
wish4  ,she proved herself              
thereby--though at an awful cost--a     
woman1 and  not an animal4  ,and indeed 
the woman's more delicate organisation1 
her  more vivid emotions1 her more      
voluble fancy1 as well as her mere      
physical  weakness and weariness1 have  
been to her1 in all ages1 a special     
source  of temptation which it is to her
 honour that she has resisted so much   
better than the physically stronger1 and
 therefore more culpable1 man4    ,as   
for what the tree of knowledge was1     

there really is no need for us to  waste
 our time in guessing4  ,if it was not  
one plant1 then it was  another4  ,it   
may have been something which has long  
since perished off  the earth4  ,it may 
have been--as some learned men have     
guessed--the  sacred ,soma1 or ,homa1 of
 the early ,brahmin race2 and that may  
have been a  still existing narcotic    
species of ,asclepias4  ,it certainly   
was not the  vine4  ,the language of the
 ,hebrew ,scripture concerning it1 and  
the sacred  use to which it is          
consecrated in the ,gospels1 forbid that
 notion  utterly2 at least to those who 
know enough of antiquity to pass by1    
with  a smile1 the theory that the wines
 mentioned in ,scripture were not       
intoxicating4  ,and yet--as a fresh     
corroboration of what ,i am trying to   
say--how fearfully has that noble gift  
to man been abused for the same  end as 
a hundred other vegetable products1 ever
 since those mythic days  when ,dionusos
 brought the vine from the far ,east1   

amid troops of human  ,maenads and      
half-human ,satyrs2 and the ,bacchae    
tore ,pentheus in pieces on  ,cithaeron1
 for daring to intrude upon their sacred
 rites2 and since those  historic days1 
too1 when1 less than two hundred years  
before the  ,christian era1 the ,bacchic
 rites spread from ,southern ,italy into
 ,etruria1  and thence to the matrons of
 ,rome2 and under the guidance of       
,poenia  ,annia1 a ,campanian lady1 took
 at last shapes of which no man must    
speak1  but which had to be put down    
with terrible but just severity1 by the 
,consuls and the ,senate4    ,but it    
matters little1 ,i say1 what this same  
tree of knowledge was4  ,was  every vine
 on earth destroyed to-morrow1 and every
 vegetable also from  which alcohol is  
now distilled1 man would soon discover  
something else  wherewith to satisfy the
 insatiate craving4  ,has he not done so
 already8  ,has not almost every people 
had its tree of knowledge1 often more   
deadly  than any distilled liquor1 from 

the absinthe of the cultivated          
,frenchman1  and the opium of the       
cultivated ,chinese1 down to the        
bush-poisons  wherewith the tropic      
sorcerer initiates his dupes into the   
knowledge of  good and evil1 and the    
fungus from which the ,samoiede extracts
 in autumn  a few days of brutal        
happiness1 before the setting in of the 
long six  months' night8  ,god grant    
that modern science may not bring to    
light  fresh substitutes for alcohol1   
opium1 and the rest2 and give the white 
races1 in that state of effeminate and  
godless quasi-civilisation which ,i     
sometimes fear is creeping upon them1   
fresh means of destroying  themselves   
delicately and pleasantly off the face  
of the earth4    ,it is said by some    
that drunkenness is on the increase in  
this island4  ,i  have no trusty proof  
of it3 but ,i can believe it possible2  
for every  cause of drunkenness seems on
 the increase4  ,overwork of body and   
mind2  circumstances which depress      

health2 temptation to drink1 and drink  
again1  at every corner of the streets2 
and finally1 money1 and ever more money1
  in the hands of uneducated people1 who
 have not the desire1 and too often  not
 the means1 of spending it in any save  
the lowest pleasures4  ,these1  it seems
 to me1 are the true causes of          
drunkenness1 increasing or not4  ,and if
 we wish to become a more temperate     
nation1 we must lessen them1 if  we     
cannot eradicate them4    ,first1       
overwork4  ,we all live too fast1 and   
work too hard4  ,all things  are full of
 labour1 man cannot utter it4  ,in the  
heavy struggle for  existence which goes
 on all around us1 each man is tasked   
more and  more--if he be really worth   
buying and using--to the utmost of his  
powers  all day long4  ,the weak have to
 compete on equal terms with the strong2
  and crave1 in consequence1 for        
artificial strength4  ,how we shall stop
  that ,i know not1 while every man is  
making haste to be rich1 and  piercing  

himself through with many sorrows1 and  
falling into foolish and  hurtful lusts1
 which drown men in destruction and     
perdition4  ,how we  shall stop that1 ,i
 say1 ,i know not4  ,the old prophet may
 have been right  when he said1 ,surely 
it is not of the ,lord that the people  
shall labour  in the very fire1 and     
weary themselves for very vanity2 and in
 some  juster1 wiser1 more sober system 
of society--somewhat more like the      
,kingdom of ,the ,father come on        
earth--it may be that poor human beings 
will not need to toil so hard1 and to   
keep themselves up to their work by     
stimulants1 but will have time to sit   
down1 and look around them1 and  think  
of ,god1 and of ,god's quiet universe1  
with something of quiet in  themselves2 
something of rational leisure1 and      
manful sobriety of mind1  as well as of 
body4    ,but it seems to me also1 that 
in such a state of society1 when--as it 
was  once well put--every one has       
stopped running about like rats3--that  

those who work hard1 whether with muscle
 or with brain1 would not be            
surrounded1 as now1 with every          
circumstance which tempts toward drink2 
by  every circumstance which depresses  
the vital energies1 and leaves them an  
easy prey to pestilence itself2 by bad  
light1 bad air1 bad food1 bad  water1   
bad smells1 bad occupations1 which      
weaken the muscles1 cramp the  chest1   
disorder the digestion4  ,let any       
rational man1 fresh from the            
country--in which ,i presume ,god1      
having made it1 meant all men1 more or  
less1 to live--go through the back      
streets of any city1 or through whole   
districts of the black countries of     
,england3 and then ask himself--,is  it 
the will of ,god that ,his human        
children should live and toil in such   
dens1 such deserts1 such dark places of 
the earth8  ,let him ask  himself--,can 
they live and toil there without        
contracting a probably  diseased habit  
of body2 without contracting a certainly

 dull1 weary1  sordid habit of mind1    
which craves for any pleasure1 however  
brutal1 to  escape from its own         
stupidity and emptiness8  ,when ,i run  
through1 by  rail1 certain parts of the 
iron-producing country--streets of      
furnaces1  collieries1 slag heaps1 mud1 
slop1 brick house-rows1 smoke1 dirt--and
  that is all2 and when ,i am told1     
whether truly or falsely1 that the main 
thing which the well-paid and well-fed  
men of those abominable wastes  care for
 is--good fighting-dogs3 ,i can only    
answer1 that ,i am not  surprised4    ,i
 say--as ,i have said elsewhere1 and    
shall do my best to say again--that  the
 craving for drink and narcotics1       
especially that engendered in our  great
 cities1 is not a disease1 but a symptom
 of disease2 of a far deeper  disease   
than any which drunkenness can produce2 
namely1 of the growing  degeneracy of a 
population striving in vain by          
stimulants and narcotics  to fight      
against those slow poisons with which   

our greedy barbarism1  miscalled        
civilisation1 has surrounded them from  
the cradle to the grave4  ,i may be     
answered that the old ,german1 ,angle1  
,dane1 drank heavily4  ,i  know it3 but 
why did they drink1 save for the same   
reason that the fenman  drank1 and his  
wife took opium1 at least till the fens 
were drained8 why  but to keep off the  
depressing effects of the malaria of    
swamps and new  clearings1 which told on
 them--who always settled in the lowest 
grounds--in the shape of fever and ague8
  ,here it may be answered again1  that 
stimulants have been1 during the memory 
of man1 the destruction of  the ,red    
,indian race in ,america4  ,i reply     
boldly1 that ,i do not believe  it4     
,there is evidence enough in ,jaques    
,cartier's ',voyages to the ,rivers  of 
,canada2' and evidence more than enough 
in ,strachey's ',travaile in            
,virginia'--to quote only two           
authorities out of many--to prove that  
the  ,red ,indians1 when the white man  

first met with them1 were1 in ,north and
  ,south alike1 a diseased1 decaying1   
and1 as all their traditions confess1   
decreasing race4  ,such a race would    
naturally crave for the water of  life1 
the usque-bagh1 or whisky1 as we have   
contracted the old name  now4  ,but ,i  
should have thought that the white man1 
by introducing among  these poor        
creatures iron1 fire-arms1 blankets1 and
 above all horses  wherewith to follow  
the buffalo-herds which they could never
 follow on  foot1 must have done ten    
times more towards keeping them alive1  
than he  has done towards destroying    
them by giving them the chance of a     
week's  drunkenness twice a year1 when  
they came in to his forts to sell the   
skins which1 without his gifts1 they    
would never have got4    ,such a race   
would1 of course1 if wanting vitality1  
crave for stimulants4  ,but if the      
stimulants1 and not the original want of
 vitality1 combined  with morals utterly
 detestable1 and worthy only of the     

gallows--and here  ,i know what ,i say1 
and dare not tell what ,i know1 from    
eye-witnesses--have  been the cause of  
the ,red ,indians' extinction3 then how 
is it1 let me  ask1 that the ,irishman  
and the ,scotsman have1 often to their  
great harm1  been drinking as much      
whisky--and usually very bad whisky--not
 merely  twice a year1 but as often as  
they could get it1 during the whole iron
  age2 and1 for aught any one can tell1 
during the bronze age1 and the  stone   
age before that3 and yet are still the  
most healthy1 able1  valiant1 and       
prolific races in ,europe8  ,had they   
drunk less whisky they  would1          
doubtless1 have been more healthy1 able1
 valiant1 and perhaps even  more        
prolific1 than they are now4  ,they show
 no sign1 however1 as yet1 of  going the
 way of the ,red ,indian4    ,but if the
 craving for stimulants and narcotics is
 a token of deficient  vitality3 then   
the deadliest foe of that craving1 and  
all its miserable  results1 is surely   

the ,sanatory ,reformer2 the man who    
preaches1 and--as  far as ignorance and 
vested interests will allow him1        
procures--for the  masses1 pure air1    
pure sunlight1 pure water1 pure         
dwelling-houses1 pure  food4  ,not      
merely every fresh drinking-fountain3   
but every fresh public  bath and        
wash-house1 every fresh open space1     
every fresh growing tree1  every fresh  
open window1 every fresh flower in that 
window--each of these  is so much1 as   
the old ,persians would have said1      
conquered for ,ormuzd1  the god of light
 and life1 out of the dominion of       
,ahriman1 the king of  darkness and of  
death2 so much taken from the causes of 
drunkenness and  disease1 and added to  
the causes of sobriety and health4      
,meanwhile one thing is clear3 that if  
this present barbarism and anarchy  of  
covetousness1 miscalled modern          
civilisation1 were tamed and drilled    
into something more like a ,kingdom of  
,god on earth3 then we should not  see  

the reckless and needless multiplication
 of liquor shops1 which  disgraces this 
country now4    ,as a single instance3  
in one country parish of nine hundred   
inhabitants1  in which the population   
has increased only one-ninth in the last
 fifty  years1 there are now practically
 eight public-houses1 where fifty years 
ago there were but two4  ,one1 that is1 
for every hundred and ten--or  rather1  
omitting children1 farmers1 shopkeepers1
 gentlemen1 and their  households1 one  
for every fifty of the inhabitants4  ,in
 the face of the  allurements1 often of 
the basest kind1 which these dens offer1
 the  clergyman and the schoolmaster    
struggle in vain to keep up             
night-schools  and young men's clubs1   
and to inculcate habits of providence4  
,the young labourers over a great part  
of the south and east1 at least1 of     
,england1--though never so well off1 for
 several generations1 as they are       
now--are growing up thriftless1         
shiftless2 inferior1 it seems to me1 to 

their grandfathers in everything1 save  
that they can usually read and  write1  
and their grandfathers could not2 and   
that they wear smart cheap  cloth       
clothes1 instead of their grandfathers' 
smock-frocks4    ,and if it be so in the
 country3 how must it be in towns8      
,there must come  a thorough change in  
the present licensing system1 in spite  
of all the  pressure which certain      
powerful vested interests may bring to  
bear on  governments4  ,and it is the   
duty of every good citizen1 who cares   
for his  countrymen1 and for their      
children after them1 to help in bringing
 about  that change as speedily as      
possible4    ,again3 ,i said just now   
that a probable cause of increasing     
drunkenness  was the increasing material
 prosperity of thousands who knew no    
recreation beyond low animal pleasure4  
,if ,i am right--and ,i believe that  ,i
 am right--,i must urge on those who    
wish drunkenness to decrease1 the       
necessity of providing more1 and more   

refined recreation for the people4      
,men drink1 and women too1 remember1 not
 merely to supply exhaustion2 not       
merely to drive away care3 but often    
simply to drive away dulness4  ,they    
have nothing to do save to think over   
what they have done in the day1 or  what
 they expect to do to-morrow2 and they  
escape from that dreary round  of       
business thought1 in liquor or          
narcotics4  ,there are still those1 by  
no means of the hand-working class1 but 
absorbed all day by business1 who  drink
 heavily at night in their own          
comfortable homes1 simply to recreate   
their overburdened minds4  ,such cases1 
doubtless1 are far less common  than    
they were fifty years ago3 but why8  ,is
 not the decrease of drinking  among the
 richer classes certainly due to the    
increased refinement and  variety of    
their tastes and occupations8  ,in      
cultivating the aesthetic  side of man's
 nature2 in engaging him with the       
beautiful1 the pure1 the  wonderful1 the

 truly natural2 with painting1 poetry1  
music1 horticulture1  physical          
science--in all this lies recreation1 in
 the true and literal  sense of that    
word1 namely1 the recreating and mending
 of the exhausted  mind and feelings1   
such as no rational man will now        
neglect1 either for  himself1 his       
children1 or his work-people4    ,but   
how little of all this is open to the   
masses1 all should know but too  well4  
,how little opportunity the average     
hand-worker1 or his wife1 has  of eating
 of any tree of knowledge1 save of the  
very basest kind1 is but  too palpable4 
,we are mending1 thank ,god1 in this    
respect4  ,free  libraries and museums  
have sprung up of late in other cities  
beside  ,london4  ,god's blessing rest  
upon them all4  ,and the ,crystal       
,palace1 and  still later1 the ,bethnal 
,green ,museum1 have been1 ,i believe1  
of far more  use than many average      
sermons and lectures from many average  
orators4    ,but are we not still far   

behind the old ,greeks1 and the ,romans 
of the  ,empire likewise1 in the amount 
of amusement and instruction1 and even  
of  shelter1 which we provide for the   
people8  ,recollect the--to             
me--disgraceful fact2 that there is not1
 as far as ,i am aware1 throughout  the 
whole of ,london1 a single portico or   
other covered place1 in which  the      
people can take refuge during a shower3 
and this in the climate of  ,england6   
,where they do take refuge on a wet day 
the publican knows but  too well2 as he 
knows also where thousands of the lower 
classes1 simply  for want of any other  
place to be in1 save their own sordid   
dwellings1  spend as much as they are   
permitted of the ,sabbath day4  ,let us 
put down  ,sunday drinking by all means1
 if we can4  ,but let us remember that  
by  closing the public-house on ,sunday1
 we prevent no man or woman from        
carrying home as much poison as they    
choose on ,saturday night1 to  brutalise
 themselves therewith1 perhaps for      

eight-and-forty hours4  ,and  let us    
see--in the name of ,him who said that  
,he had made the ,sabbath for  man1 and 
not man for the ,sabbath--let us see1 ,i
 say1 if we cannot do  something to     
prevent the townsman's ,sabbath being1  
not a day of rest1 but  a day of mere   
idleness2 the day of most temptation1   
because of most  dulness1 of the whole  
seven4    ,and here1 perhaps1 some sweet
 soul may look up reprovingly and       
say--,he  talks of rest4  ,does he      
forget1 and would he have the working   
man forget1  that all these outward     
palliatives will never touch the seat of
 the  disease1 the unrest of the soul   
within8  ,does he forget1 and would he  
have the working man forget1 who it was 
who said--who only has the right  to    
say--,come unto ,me1 all ye who are     
weary and heavy laden1 and ,i will  give
 you rest8  ,ah no1 sweet soul4  ,i know
 your words are true4  ,i know  that    
what we all want is inward rest2 rest of
 heart and brain2 the calm1  strong1    

self-contained1 self-denying character2 
which needs no  stimulants1 for it has  
no fits of depression2 which needs no   
narcotics1  for it has no fits of       
excitement2 which needs no ascetic      
restraints1 for  it is strong enough to 
use ,god's gifts without abusing them2  
the  character1 in a word1 which is     
truly temperate1 not in drink or food   
merely1 but in all desires1 thoughts1   
and actions2 freed from the wild  lusts 
and ambitions to which that old ,adam   
yielded1 and1 seeking for  light and    
life by means forbidden1 found thereby  
disease and death4  ,yes2  ,i know that2
 and know1 too1 that that rest is found1
 only where you have  already found it4 
,and yet3 in such a world as this2      
governed by a ,being who has made       
sunshine1 and flowers1 and green grass1 
and the song of birds1 and happy  human 
smiles2 and who would educate by        
them--if we would let ,him--,his  human 
children from the cradle to the grave2  
in such a world as this1  will you      

grudge any particle of that education1  
even any harmless  substitute for it1 to
 those spirits in prison1 whose         
surroundings too  often tempt them1 from
 the cradle to the grave1 to fancy that 
the world  is composed of bricks and    
iron1 and governed by inspectors and    
policemen8  ,preach to those spirits in 
prison1 as you know far better than we  
parsons  how to preach3 but let them    
have besides some glimpses of the       
splendid  fact1 that outside their      
prison-house is a world which ,god1 not 
man1 has  made2 wherein grows everywhere
 that tree of knowledge which is        
likewise  the tree of life2 and that    
they have a right to some small share of
 its  beauty1 and its wonder1 and its   
rest1 for their own health of soul and  
body1 and for the health of their       
children after them4          ,,nausicaa
 ,,in ,,london3 ,,or1 ,,the ,,lower     
,,education ,,of ,,woman4      ,fresh   
from the ,marbles of the ,british       
,museum1 ,i went my way through  ,london

 streets4  ,my brain was still full of  
fair and grand forms2 the  forms of men 
and women whose every limb and attitude 
betokened perfect  health1 and grace1   
and power1 and a self-possession and    
self-restraint so  habitual and complete
 that it had become unconscious1 and    
undistinguishable from the native       
freedom of the savage4  ,for ,i had been
  up and down the corridors of those    
,greek sculptures1 which remain as a    
perpetual sermon to rich and poor1 amid 
our artificial1 unwholesome1 and  it may
 be decaying pseudo-civilisation2 saying
 with looks more expressive  than all   
words--,such men and women can be2 for  
such they have been2 and  such you may  
be yet1 if you will use that science of 
which you too often  only boast4  ,above
 all1 ,i had been pondering over the    
awful and yet  tender beauty of the     
maiden figures from the ,parthenon and  
its kindred  temples4  ,and these1 or   
such as these1 ,i thought to myself1    
were the  sisters of the men who fought 

at ,marathon and ,salamis2 the mothers  
of  many a man among the ten thousand   
whom ,xenophon led back from ,babylon to
  the ,black ,sea shore2 the            
ancestresses of many a man who conquered
 the  ,east in ,alexander's host1 and   
fought with ,porus in the far ,punjab4  
,and  were these women mere dolls8      
,these men mere gladiators8  ,were they 
not  the parents of philosophy1 science1
 poetry1 the plastic arts8  ,we talk of 
education now4  ,are we more educated   
than were the ancient ,greeks8  ,do we  
know anything about education1 physical1
 intellectual1 or aesthetic1 and  ,i may
 say moral likewise--religious          
education1 of course1 in our sense of   
the word1 they had none--but do we know 
anything about education of which  they 
have not taught us at least the         
rudiments8  ,are there not some         
branches of education which they        
perfected1 once and for ever2 leaving us
  northern barbarians to follow1 or else
 not to follow1 their example8  ,to     

produce health1 that is1 harmony and    
sympathy1 proportion and grace1 in      
every faculty of mind and body--that was
 their notion of education4  ,to        
produce that1 the text-book of their    
childhood was the poetry of ,homer1  and
 not of--,but ,i am treading on         
dangerous ground4  ,it was for this that
  the seafaring ,greek lad was taught to
 find his ideal in ,ulysses2 while  his 
sister at home found hers1 it may be1 in
 ,nausicaa4  ,it was for this1  that    
when perhaps the most complete and      
exquisite of all the ,greeks1           
,sophocles the good1 beloved by gods and
 men1 represented on the ,athenian      
stage his drama of ,nausicaa1 and1 as   
usual1 could not--for he had no         
voice--himself take a speaking part1 he 
was content to do one thing in  which he
 specially excelled2 and dressed and    
masked as a girl1 to play at  ball amid 
the chorus of ,nausicaa's maidens4      
,that drama of ,nausicaa is lost2 and if
 ,i dare say so of any play of          

,sophocles'1 ,i scarce regret it4  ,it  
is well1 perhaps1 that we have no       
second conception of the scene1 to      
interfere with the simplicity1 so       
grand1 and yet so tender1 of ,homer's   
idyllic episode4    ,nausicaa1 it must  
be remembered1 is the daughter of a     
king4  ,but not of a  king in the       
exclusive modern ,european or old       
,eastern sense4  ,her father1           
,alcinous1 is simply primus inter pares 
among a community of merchants1  who are
 called kings likewise2 and ,mayor for  
life--so to speak--of a  new trading    
city1 a nascent ,genoa or ,venice1 on   
the shore of the  ,mediterranean4  ,but 
the girl ,nausicaa1 as she sleeps in her
 carved  chamber1 is like the immortals 
in form and face2 and two handmaidens   
who sleep on each side of the polished  
door have beauty from the  ,graces4     
,to her there enters1 in the shape of   
some maiden friend1 none less than      
,pallas ,athene herself1 intent on      
saving worthily her favourite1 the      

shipwrecked ,ulysses2 and bids her in a 
dream go forth--and wash the  clothes4  
#gb       ,nausicaa1 wherefore doth thy 
mother bear     ,child so forgetful8    
,this long time doth rest1     ,like    
lumber in the house1 much raiment fair4 
,soon must thou wed1 and be thyself     
well-drest1     ,and find thy bridegroom
 raiment of the best4     ,these are the
 things whence good repute is born1     
,and praises that make glad a parent's  
breast4     ,come1 let us both go       
washing with the morn2     ,so shalt    
thou have clothes becoming to be worn4  
,know that thy maidenhood is not for    
long1     ,whom the ,phoeacian chiefs   
already woo1     ,lords of the land     
whence thou thyself art sprung4         
,soon as the shining dawn comes forth   
anew1     ,for wain and mules thy noble 
father sue1     ,which to the place of  
washing shall convey     ,girdles and   
shawls and rugs of splendid hue4        
,this for thyself were better than essay
     ,thither to walk3 the place is     

distant a long way4    ,startled by her 
dream1 ,nausicaa awakes1 and goes to    
find her parents--       ,one by the    
hearth sat1 with the maids around1      
,and on the skeins of yarn1 sea-purpled1
 spent     ,her morning toil4  ,him to  
the council bound1     ,called by the   
honoured kings1 just going forth she    
found4    ,and calling him1 as she might
 now1 ,pappa phile1 ,dear ,papa1 asks   
for the  mule waggon3 but it is her     
father's and her five brothers' clothes 
she  fain would wash1--       ,ashamed  
to name her marriage to her father dear4
    ,but he understood all--and she goes
 forth in the mule waggon1 with the     
clothes1 after her mother has put in a  
chest of all kinds of delicate  food1   
and meat1 and wine in a goatskin2 and   
last but not least1 the  indispensable  
cruse of oil for anointing after the    
bath1 to which both  ,jews1 ,greeks1 and
 ,romans owed so much health and beauty4
  ,and then we  read in the simple verse
 of a poet too refined1 like the rest of

 his  race1 to see anything mean or     
ridiculous in that which was not ugly   
and  unnatural1 how she and her maids   
got into the polished waggon1 with  good
 wheels1 and she took the whip and the  
studded reins1 and beat  them till they 
started2 and how the mules rattled away1
 and pulled  against each other1 till   
,when they came to the fair flowing     
river     ,which feeds good lavatories  
all the year1     ,fitted to cleanse all
 sullied robes soever1     ,they from   
the wain the mules unharnessed there1   
,and chased them free1 to crop their    
juicy fare     ,by the swift river1 on  
the margin green2     ,then to the      
waters dashed the clothes they bare     
,and in the stream-filled trenches      
stamped them clean4       ,which1 having
 washed and cleansed1 they spread before
     ,the sunbeams1 on the beach1 where 
most did lie     ,thick pebbles1 by the 
sea-wave washed ashore4     ,so1 having 
left them in the heat to dry1     ,they 
to the bath went down1 and by-and-by1   

,rubbed with rich oil1 their midday meal
 essay1     ,couched in green turf1 the 
river rolling nigh4     ,then1 throwing 
off their veils1 at ball they play1     
,while the white-armed ,nausicaa leads  
the choral lay4    ,the mere beauty of  
this scene all will feel1 who have the  
sense of beauty  in them4  ,yet it is   
not on that aspect which ,i wish to     
dwell1 but on its  healthfulness4       
,exercise is taken1 in measured time1 to
 the sound of  song1 as a duty almost1  
as well as an amusement4  ,for this game
 of ball1  which is here mentioned for  
the first time in human literature1     
nearly  three thousand years ago1 was   
held by the ,greeks and by the ,romans  
after  them1 to be an almost necessary  
part of a liberal education2            
principally1  doubtless1 from the       
development which it produced in the    
upper half of  the body1 not merely to  
the arms1 but to the chest1 by raising  
and  expanding the ribs1 and to all the 
muscles of the torso1 whether           

perpendicular or oblique4  ,the         
elasticity and grace which it was       
believed  to give were so much prized1  
that a room for ball-play1 and a teacher
 of  the art1 were integral parts of    
every gymnasium2 and the ,athenians went
  so far as to bestow on one famous     
ballplayer1 ,aristonicus of ,carystia1 a
  statue and the rights of citizenship4 
,the rough and hardy young  ,spartans1  
when passing from boyhood into manhood1 
received the title of  ball-players1    
seemingly from the game which it was    
then their special  duty to learn4  ,in 
the case of ,nausicaa and her maidens1  
the game would  just bring into their   
right places all that is liable to be   
contracted  and weakened in women1 so   
many of whose occupations must needs be 
sedentary and stooping2 while the song  
which accompanied the game at once      
filled the lungs regularly and          
rhythmically1 and prevented violent     
motion1 or unseemly attitude4  ,we1 the 
civilised1 need physiologists to  remind

 us of these simple facts1 and even then
 do not act on them4  ,those  old       
half-barbarous ,greeks had found them   
out for themselves1 and1  moreover1     
acted on them4    ,but fair ,nausicaa   
must have been--some will say--surely a 
mere child of  nature1 and an           
uncultivated person8    ,so far from it1
 that her whole demeanour and speech    
show culture of the  very highest sort1 
full of sweetness and                   
light4--,intelligent and  fearless1     
quick to perceive the bearings of her   
strange and sudden  adventure1 quick to 
perceive the character of ,ulysses1     
quick to answer  his lofty and refined  
pleading by words as lofty and refined1 
and pious  withal2--for it is she who   
speaks to her handmaids the once so     
famous  words3       ,strangers and poor
 men all are sent from ,zeus2           
,and alms1 though small1 are sweet      
,clear of intellect1 prompt of action1  
modest of demeanour1 shrinking from  the
 slightest breath of scandal2 while she 

is not ashamed1 when ,ulysses1  bathed  
and dressed1 looks himself again1 to    
whisper to her maidens her  wish that   
the ,gods might send her such a         
spouse4--,this is ,nausicaa as  ,homer  
draws her2 and as many a scholar and    
poet since ,homer has accepted  her for 
the ideal of noble maidenhood4  ,i ask  
my readers to study for  themselves her 
interview with ,ulysses1 in ,mr4        
,worsley's translation1 or  rather in   
the grand simplicity of the original    
,greek1 #gf and judge  whether ,nausicaa
 is not as perfect a lady as the poet   
who imagined  her--or1 it may be1 drew  
her from life--must have been a perfect 
gentleman2 both complete in those       
manners which1 says the old proverb1    
make the man3 but which are the woman   
herself2 because with her--who  acts    
more by emotion than by                 
calculation--manners are the outward and
  visible tokens of her inward and      
spiritual grace1 or disgrace2 and flow  
instinctively1 whether good or bad1 from

 the instincts of her inner  nature4    
,true1 ,nausicaa could neither read nor 
write4  ,no more1 most probably1  could 
the author of the ,odyssey4  ,no more1  
for that matter1 could  ,abraham1       
,isaac1 and ,jacob1 though they were    
plainly1 both in mind and  manners1 most
 highly-cultivated men4  ,reading and   
writing1 of course1  have now become    
necessaries of humanity2 and are to be  
given to every  human being1 that he may
 start fair in the race of life4  ,but  
,i am not  aware that ,greek women      
improved much1 either in manners1       
morals1 or  happiness1 by acquiring them
 in after centuries4  ,a wise man would 
sooner  see his daughter a ,nausicaa    
than a ,sappho1 an ,aspasia1 a          
,cleopatra1 or  even an ,hypatia4       
,full of such thoughts1 ,i went through 
,london streets1 among the ,nausicaas   
of the present day2 the girls of the    
period2 the daughters and hereafter     
mothers of our future rulers1 the great 
,demos or commercial middle class  of   

the greatest mercantile city in the     
world3 and noted what ,i had noted  with
 fear and sorrow1 many a day1 for many a
 year2 a type1 and an  increasing type1 
of young women who certainly had not had
 the  advantages1 educational and other1
 of that ,greek ,nausicaa of old4    ,of
 course1 in such a city as ,london1 to  
which the best of everything1  physical 
and other1 gravitates1 ,i could not but 
pass1 now and then1  beautiful persons1 
who made me proud of those grandes      
,anglaises aux  joues rouges1 whom the  
,parisiennes ridicule--and envy4  ,but  
,i could not  help suspecting that their
 looks showed them to be either         
country-bred1  or born of country       
parents2 and this suspicion was         
strengthened by the  fact1 that when    
compared with their mothers1 the        
mother's physique was1  in the majority 
of cases1 superior to the daughters'4   
,painful it was1 to  one accustomed to  
the ruddy well-grown peasant girl1      
stalwart1 even when1  as often1 squat   

and plain1 to remark the exceedingly    
small size of the  average young woman2 
by which ,i do not mean mere want of    
height--that is  a little matter--but   
want of breadth likewise2 a general want
 of those  large frames1 which indicate 
usually a power of keeping strong and   
healthy not merely the muscles1 but the 
brain itself4    ,poor little things4   
,i passed hundreds--,i pass hundreds    
every day--trying  to hide their        
littleness by the nasty mass of false   
hair--or what does  duty for it2 and by 
the ugly and useless hat which is stuck 
upon it1  making the head thereby look  
ridiculously large and heavy2 and by the
  high heels on which they totter       
onward1 having forgotten1 or never      
learnt1 the simple art of walking2 their
 bodies tilted forward in that          
ungraceful attitude which is called--why
 that name of all others8--a  ,grecian  
bend2 seemingly kept on their feet1 and 
kept together at all1  in that strange  
attitude1 by tight stays which prevented

 all graceful and  healthy motion of the
 hips or sides2 their raiment1          
meanwhile1 being  purposely misshapen in
 this direction and in that1 to hide--it
 must be  presumed--deficiencies of     
form4  ,if that chignon and those heels 
had been  taken off1 the figure which   
would have remained would have been that
 too  often of a puny girl of sixteen4  
,and yet there was no doubt that these  
women were not only full grown1 but some
 of them1 alas6 wives and  mothers4     
,poor little things4--,and this they    
have gained by so-called civilisation3  
the power of aping the fashions by which
 the worn-out ,parisienne hides  her own
 personal defects2 and of making        
themselves1 by innate want of  that     
taste which the ,parisienne possesses1  
only the cause of something  like a     
sneer from many a cultivated man2 and of
 something like a sneer1  too1 from     
yonder gipsy woman who passes by1 with  
bold bright face1 and  swinging hip1 and
 footstep stately and elastic2 far      

better dressed1  according to all true  
canons of taste1 than most town-girls2  
and thanking  her fate that she and her 
,rom are no house-dwellers and          
gaslight-sightseers1 but fatten on free 
air upon the open moor4    ,but the face
 which is beneath that chignon and that 
hat8  ,well--it is  sometimes pretty3   
but how seldom handsome1 which is a     
higher quality by  far4  ,it is not1    
strange to say1 a well-fed face4        
,plenty of money1 and  perhaps too much1
 is spent on those fine clothes4  ,it   
had been better1 to  judge from the     
complexion1 if some of that money had   
been spent in solid  wholesome food4    
,she looks as if she lived--as she too  
often does1 ,i  hear--on tea and        
bread-and-butter1 or rather on bread    
with the minimum of  butter4  ,for as   
the want of bone indicates a deficiency 
of phosphatic  food1 so does the want of
 flesh about the cheeks indicate a      
deficiency of  hydrocarbon4  ,poor      
little ,nausicaa3--that is not her      

fault4  ,our boasted  civilisation has  
not even taught her what to eat1 as it  
certainly has not  increased her        
appetite2 and she knows not--what every 
country fellow  knows--that without     
plenty of butter and other fatty        
matters1 she is not  likely to keep even
 warm4  ,better to eat nasty fat bacon  
now1 than to  supply the want of it some
 few years hence by nastier cod-liver   
oil4  ,but  there is no one yet to tell 
her that1 and a dozen other equally     
simple  facts1 for her own sake1 and for
 the sake of that coming ,demos which   
she  is to bring into the world2 a      
,demos which1 if we can only keep it    
healthy  in body and brain1 has before  
it so splendid a future3 but which1 if  
body  and brain degrade beneath the     
influence of modern barbarism1 is but   
too  likely to follow the ,demos of     
ancient ,byzantium1 or of modern ,paris4
    ,ay1 but her intellect4  ,she is so 
clever1 and she reads so much1 and she  
is going to be taught to read so much   

more4    ,ah1 well--there was once a    
science called physiognomy4  ,the       
,greeks1 from  what ,i can learn1 knew  
more of it than any people since3 though
 the  ,italian painters and sculptors   
must have known much2 far more than we4 
,in  a more scientific civilisation     
there will be such a science once more3 
but its laws1 though still in the       
empiric stage1 are not altogether       
forgotten by some4  ,little children    
have often a fine and clear instinct  of
 them4  ,many cultivated and experienced
 women have a fine and clear  instinct  
of them likewise4  ,and some such would 
tell us that there is  intellect in     
plenty in the modern ,nausicaa3 but not 
of the quality which  they desire for   
their country's future good4            
,self-consciousness1  eagerness1        
volubility1 petulance1 in countenance1  
in gesture1 and in  voice--which last is
 too often most harsh and artificial1   
the breath  being sent forth through the
 closed teeth1 and almost entirely at   

the  corners of the mouth--and1 with all
 this1 a weariness often about the      
wrinkling forehead and the drooping     
lids2--all these1 which are growing  too
 common1 not among the ,demos only1 nor 
only in the towns1 are signs1  they     
think1 of the unrest of unhealth1       
physical1 intellectual1 spiritual4  ,at 
least they are as different as two types
 of physiognomy in the same  race can   
be1 from the expression both of face and
 gesture1 in those old  ,greek          
sculptures1 and in the old ,italian     
painters2 and1 it must be said1  in the 
portraits of ,reynolds1 and             
,gainsborough1 ,copley1 and ,romney4    
,not  such1 one thinks1 must have been  
the mothers of ,britain during the      
latter  half of the last century and the
 beginning of the present2 when their   
sons1 at times1 were holding half the   
world at bay4    ,and if ,nausicaa has  
become such in town3 what is she when   
she goes to the  seaside1 not to wash   
the clothes in fresh-water1 but herself 

in salt--the  very salt-water1 laden    
with decaying organisms1 from which1    
though not  polluted further by a dozen 
sewers1 ,ulysses had to cleanse himself1
  anointing1 too1 with oil1 ere he was  
fit to appear in the company of         
,nausicaa of ,greece8  ,she dirties     
herself with the dirty salt-water2 and  
probably chills and tires herself by    
walking thither and back1 and  staying  
in too long2 and then flaunts on the    
pier1 bedizened in garments  which1 for 
monstrosity of form and disharmony of   
colours1 would have set  that ,greek    
,nausicaa's teeth on edge1 or those of  
any average ,hindoo woman  now4  ,or1   
even sadder still1 she sits on chairs   
and benches all the weary  afternoon1   
her head drooped on her chest1 over some
 novel from the  ,library2 and then     
returns to tea and shrimps1 and lodgings
 of which the  fragrance is not         
unsuggestive1 sometimes not             
unproductive1 of typhoid  fever4  ,ah1  
poor ,nausicaa of ,england6  ,that is a 

sad sight to some who  think about the  
present1 and have read about the past4  
,it is not a sad  sight to see your old 
father--tradesman1 or clerk1 or what    
not--who has  done good work in his day1
 and hopes to do some more1 sitting by  
your old  mother1 who has done good work
 in her day--among the rest1 that       
heaviest  work of all1 the bringing you 
into the world and keeping you in it    
till  now--honest1 kindly1 cheerful folk
 enough1 and not inefficient in their   
own calling2 though an average          
,northumbrian1 or ,highlander1 or ,irish
  ,easterling1 beside carrying a brain  
of five times the intellectual force1   
could drive five such men over the cliff
 with his bare hands4  ,it is not  a sad
 sight1 ,i say1 to see them sitting     
about upon those seaside benches1       
looking out listlessly at the water1 and
 the ships1 and the sunlight1 and       
enjoying1 like so many flies upon a     
wall1 the novel act of doing nothing4   
,it is not the old for whom wise men are

 sad3 but for you4  ,where is your      
vitality8  ,where is your               
,lebensgluckseligkeit1 your enjoyment of
  superfluous life and power8  ,why can 
you not even dance and sing1 till  now  
and then1 at night1 perhaps1 when you   
ought to be safe in bed1 but  when the  
weak brain1 after receiving the day's   
nourishment1 has roused  itself a second
 time into a false excitement of        
gaslight pleasure8  ,what  there is left
 of it is all going into that foolish   
book1 which the  womanly element in you1
 still healthy and alive1 delights in2  
because it  places you in fancy in      
situations in which you will never      
stand1 and  inspires you with emotions1 
some of which1 it may be1 you had better
  never feel4  ,poor ,nausicaa--old1    
some men think1 before you have been    
ever young4    ,and now they are going  
to develop you2 and let you have your   
share in  the higher education of women1
 by making you read more books1 and do  
more sums1 and pass examinations1 and   

stoop over desks at night after         
stooping over some other employment all 
day2 and to teach you ,latin1 and  even 
,greek4    ,well1 we will gladly teach  
you ,greek1 if you learn thereby to read
 the  history of ,nausicaa of old1 and  
what manner of maiden she was1 and what 
was her education4  ,you will admire    
her1 doubtless4  ,but do not let your   
admiration limit itself to drawing a    
meagre half-mediaevalized design of     
her--as she never looked4  ,copy in your
 own person2 and even if you do  not    
descend as low--or rise as high--as     
washing the household clothes1 at  least
 learn to play at ball2 and sing1 in the
 open air and sunshine1 not  in theatres
 and concert-rooms by gaslight2 and take
 decent care of your  own health2 and   
dress not like a ,parisienne--nor1 of   
course1 like  ,nausicaa of old1 for that
 is to ask too much3--but somewhat more 
like an  average ,highland lassie2 and  
try to look like her1 and be like her1  
of  whom ,wordsworth sang--          ,a 

mien and face     ,in which full plainly
 ,i can trace     ,benignity and        
home-bred sense1     ,ripening in       
perfect innocence4     ,here scattered1 
like a random seed1     ,remote from    
men1 thou dost not need     ,the        
embarrassed look of shy distress        
,and maidenly shamefacedness4     ,thou 
wear'st upon thy forehead clear     ,the
 freedom of a mountaineer4     ,a face  
with gladness overspread1     ,soft     
smiles1 by human kindness bred1     ,and
 seemliness complete1 that sways        
,thy courtesies1 about thee plays4      
,with no restraint1 save such as springs
     ,from quick and eager visitings    
,of thoughts that lie beyond the reach  
,of thy few words of ,english speech4   
,a bondage sweetly brooked1 a strife    
,that gives thy gestures grace and life4
    ,ah1 yet unspoilt ,nausicaa of the  
,north2 descendant of the dark tender-  
hearted ,celtic girl1 and the fair      
deep-hearted ,scandinavian ,viking1     
thank  ,god for thy heather and fresh   

air1 and the kine thou tendest1 and the 
wool thou spinnest2 and come not to seek
 thy fortune1 child1 in wicked  ,london 
town2 nor import1 as they tell me thou  
art doing fast1 the ugly  fashions of   
that ,london town1 clumsy copies of     
,parisian cockneydom1 into  thy         
,highland home2 nor give up the         
healthful and graceful1 free and  modest
 dress of thy mother and thy mother's   
mother1 to disfigure the  little kirk on
 ,sabbath days with crinoline and       
corset1 high-heeled boots1  and other   
women's hair4    ,it is proposed1 just  
now1 to assimilate the education of     
girls more and  more to that of boys4   
,if that means that girls are merely to 
learn more  lessons1 and to study what  
their brothers are taught1 in addition  
to what  their mothers were taught2 then
 it is to be hoped1 at least by         
physiologists and patriots1 that the    
scheme will sink into that limbo        
whither1 in a free and tolerably        
rational country1 all imperfect and ill-

  considered schemes are sure to        
gravitate4  ,but if the proposal be a   
bona  fide one3 then it must be borne in
 mind that in the public schools of     
,england1 and in all private schools1 ,i
 presume1 which take their tone  from   
them1 cricket and football are more or  
less compulsory1 being  considered      
integral parts of an ,englishman's      
education2 and that they are  likely to 
remain so1 in spite of all reclamations3
 because masters and  boys alike know   
that games do not1 in the long run1     
interfere with a  boy's work2 that the  
same boy will very often excel in both2 
that the  games keep him in health for  
his work2 that the spirit with which he 
takes to his games when in the lower    
school1 is a fair test of the spirit    
with which he will take to his work when
 he rises into the higher school2  and  
that nothing is worse for a boy than to 
fall into that loafing1 tuck-           
shop-haunting set1 who neither play hard
 nor work hard1 and are usually         

extravagant1 and often vicious4         
,moreover1 they know well that games    
conduce1 not merely to physical1 but to 
moral health2 that in the playing-      
field boys acquire virtues which no     
books can give them2 not merely  daring 
and endurance1 but1 better still1       
temper1 self-restraint1  fairness1      
honour1 unenvious approbation of        
another's success1 and all  that give   
and take of life which stand a man in   
such good stead when he  goes forth into
 the world1 and without which1 indeed1  
his success is  always maimed and       
partial4    ,now3 if the promoters of   
higher education for women will compel  
girls to  any training analogous to our 
public school games2 if1 for instance1  
they  will insist on that most natural  
and wholesome of all exercises1 dancing1
  in order to develop the lower half of 
the body2 on singing1 to expand the     
lungs and regulate the breath2 and on   
some games--ball or what not--which     
will ensure that raised chest1 and      

upright carriage1 and general strength  
of the upper torso1 without which full  
oxygenation of the blood1 and  therefore
 general health1 is impossible2 if they 
will sternly forbid  tight stays1 high  
heels1 and all which interferes with    
free growth and  free motion2 if they   
will consider carefully all which has   
been written  on the half-time system by
 ,mr4 ,chadwick and others2 and accept  
the  certain physical law that1 in order
 to renovate the brain day by day1 the  
growing creature must have plenty of    
fresh air and play1 and that the  child 
who learns for four hours and plays for 
four hours1 will learn  more1 and learn 
it more easily1 than the child who      
learns for the whole  eight hours2 if1  
in short1 they will teach girls not     
merely to understand  the ,greek tongue1
 but to copy somewhat of the ,greek     
physical training1 of  that music and   
gymnastic which helped to make the      
cleverest race of the  old world the    
ablest race likewise3 then they will    

earn the gratitude of  the patriot and  
the physiologist1 by doing their best to
 stay the  downward tendencies of the   
physique1 and therefore ultimately of   
the  morale1 in the coming generation of
 ,english women4    ,i am sorry to say  
that1 as yet1 ,i hear of but one        
movement in this  direction among the   
promoters of the higher education of    
women4 #hh  ,i  trust that the subject  
will be taken up methodically by those  
gifted  ladies2 who have acquainted     
themselves1 and are labouring to        
acquaint  other women1 with the first   
principles of health2 and that they may 
avail  to prevent the coming            
generations1 under the unwholesome      
stimulant of  competitive examinations1 
and so forth1 from developing into so   
many  ,chinese-dwarfs--or idiots4       
,,the ,,air-,,mothers4         ,die     
,natur ist die ,bewegung4    ,who are   
these who follow us softly over the moor
 in the autumn eve8  ,their  wings brush
 and rustle in the fir-boughs1 and they 

whisper before us and  behind1 as if    
they called gently to each other1 like  
birds flocking  homeward to their nests4
    ,the woodpecker on the pine-stems   
knows them1 and laughs aloud for joy as 
they pass4  ,the rooks above the pasture
 know them1 and wheel round and  tumble 
in their play4  ,the brown leaves on the
 oak trees know them1 and  flutter      
faintly1 and beckon as they pass4  ,and 
in the chattering of the  dry leaves    
there is a meaning1 and a cry of weary  
things which long for  rest4    ,take us
 home1 take us home1 you soft           
air-mothers1 now our fathers the        
sunbeams are grown dull4  ,our green    
summer beauty is all draggled1 and  our 
faces are grown wan and wan2 and the    
buds1 the children whom we  nourished1  
thrust us off1 ungrateful1 from our     
seats4  ,waft us down1 you  soft        
air-mothers1 upon your wings to the     
quiet earth1 that we may go to  our     
home1 as all things go1 and become air  
and sunlight once again4    ,and the    

bold young fir-seeds know them1 and     
rattle impatient in their  cones4  ,blow
 stronger1 blow fiercer1 slow           
air-mothers1 and shake us from  our     
prisons of dead wood1 that we may fly   
and spin away north-eastward1  each on  
his horny wing4  ,help us but to touch  
the moorland yonder1 and we  will take  
good care of ourselves henceforth2 we   
will dive like arrows  through the      
heather1 and drive our sharp beaks into 
the soil1 and rise  again as green trees
 toward the sunlight1 and spread out    
lusty boughs4    ,they never think1 bold
 fools1 of what is coming1 to bring them
 low in the  midst of their pride2 of   
the reckless axe which will fell them1  
and the  saw which will shape them into 
logs2 and the trains which will roar and
  rattle over them1 as they lie buried  
in the gravel of the way1 till they  are
 ground and rotted into powder1 and dug 
up and flung upon the fire1  that they  
too may return home1 like all things1   
and become air and  sunlight once again4

    ,and the air-mothers hear their     
prayers1 and do their bidding3 but      
faintly2 for they themselves are tired  
and sad4    ,tired and sad are the      
air-mothers1 and their garments rent and
 wan4  ,look  at them as they stream    
over the black forest1 before the dim   
south-western sun2 long lines and       
wreaths of melancholy grey1 stained     
with dull yellow or dead dun4  ,they    
have come far across the seas1 and  done
 many a wild deed upon their way2 and   
now that they have reached the  land1   
like shipwrecked sailors1 they will lie 
down and weep till they can  weep no    
more4    ,ah1 how different were those  
soft air-mothers when1 invisible to     
mortal  eyes1 they started on their long
 sky-journey1 five thousand miles across
  the sea6  ,out of the blazing caldron 
which lies between the two ,new         
,worlds1 they leapt up when the great   
sun called them1 in whirls and  spouts  
of clear hot steam2 and rushed of their 
own passion to the  northward1 while the

 whirling earth-ball whirled them east4 
,so north-  eastward they rushed aloft1 
across the gay ,west ,indian isles1     
leaving  below the glitter of the       
flying-fish1 and the sidelong eyes of   
cruel  sharks2 above the cane-fields and
 the plaintain-gardens1 and the cocoa-  
groves which fringe the shores2 above   
the rocks which throbbed with           
earthquakes1 and the peaks of old       
volcanoes1 cinder-strewn2 while1 far    
beneath1 the ghosts of their dead       
sisters hurried home upon the north-    
east breeze4    ,wild deeds they did as 
they rushed onward1 and struggled and   
fought among  themselves1 up and down1  
and round and backward1 in the fury of  
their  blind hot youth4  ,they heeded   
not the tree as they snapped it1 nor the
  ship as they whelmed it in the waves2 
nor the cry of the sinking sailor1  nor 
the need of his little ones on shore2   
hasty and selfish even as  children1    
and1 like children1 tamed by their own  
rage4  ,for they tired  themselves by   

struggling with each other1 and by      
tearing the heavy water  into waves2 and
 their wings grew clogged with          
sea-spray1 and soaked more  and more    
with steam4  ,but at last the sea grew  
cold beneath them1 and  their clear     
steam shrank to mist2 and they saw      
themselves and each other  wrapped in   
dull rain-laden clouds4  ,they then drew
 their white  cloud-garments round them1
 and veiled themselves for very shame2  
and  said1 ,we have been wild and       
wayward3 and1 alas6 our pure bright     
youth is  gone4  ,but we will do one    
good deed yet ere we die1 and so we     
shall not  have lived in vain4  ,we will
 glide onward to the land1 and weep     
there2  and refresh all things with soft
 warm rain2 and make the grass grow1 the
  buds burst2 quench the thirst of man  
and beast1 and wash the soiled world    
clean4    ,so they are wandering past   
us1 the air-mothers1 to weep the leaves 
into  their graves2 to weep the seeds   
into their seed-beds1 and weep the soil 

into the plains2 to get the rich earth  
ready for the winter1 and then  creep   
northward to the ice-world1 and there   
die4    ,weary1 and still more weary1   
slowly1 and more slowly still1 they will
  journey on far northward1 across      
fast-chilling seas4  ,for a doom is laid
  upon them1 never to be still again1   
till they rest at the ,north ,pole      
itself1 the still axle of the spinning  
world2 and sink in death around  it1 and
 become white snow-clad ghosts4    ,but 
will they live again1 those chilled     
air-mothers8  ,yes1 they must live      
again4  ,for all things move for ever2  
and not even ghosts can rest4  ,so  the 
corpses of their sisters1 piling on them
 from above1 press them  outward1 press 
them southward toward the sun once more2
 across the floes  and round the        
icebergs1 weeping tears of snow and     
sleet1 while men hate  their wild harsh 
voices1 and shrink before their bitter  
breath4  ,they  know not that the cold  
bleak snow-storms1 as they hurtle from  

the black  north-east1 bear back the    
ghosts of the soft air-mothers1 as      
penitents1  to their father1 the great  
sun4    ,but as they fly southwards1    
warm life thrills them1 and they drop   
their  loads of sleet and snow2 and meet
 their young live sisters from the      
south1 and greet them with flash and    
thunder-peal4  ,and1 please ,god1       
before many weeks are over1 as we run   
,westward ,ho1 we shall overtake the    
ghosts of these air-mothers1 hurrying   
back toward their father1 the great     
sun4  ,fresh and bright under the fresh 
bright heaven1 they will race with  us  
toward our home1 to gain new heat1 new  
life1 new power1 and set forth  about   
their work once more4  ,men call them   
the south-west wind1 those air-         
mothers2 and their ghosts the north-east
 trade2 and value them1 and  rightly1   
because they bear the traders out and   
home across the sea4  ,but  wise men1   
and little children1 should look on them
 with more seeing eyes2  and say1 ,may  

not these winds be living creatures8    
,they1 too1 are  thoughts of ,god1 to   
whom all live4    ,for is not our life  
like their life8  ,do we not come and go
 as they8  ,out  of ,god's boundless    
bosom1 the fount of life1 we came2      
through selfish1  stormy youth1 and     
contrite tears--just not too late2      
through manhood not  altogether useless2
 through slow and chill old age1 we     
return from ,whence  we came2 to the    
,bosom of ,god once more--to go forth   
again1 it may be1  with fresh knowledge1
 and fresh powers1 to nobler work4      
,amen4    99 99 99 99 99    ,such was   
the prophecy which ,i learnt1 or seemed 
to learn1 from the south-  western wind 
off the ,atlantic1 on a certain         
delectable evening4  ,and it  was       
fulfilled at night1 as far as the gentle
 air-mothers could fulfil it1  for      
foolish man4       ,there was a roaring 
in the woods all night2     ,the rain   
came heavily and fell in floods2        
,but now the sun is rising calm and     

bright1     ,the birds are singing in   
the distant woods2     ,over his own    
sweet voice the stock-dove broods1      
,the jay makes answer as the magpie     
chatters1     ,and all the air is filled
 with pleasant noise of waters    ,but  
was ,i a gloomy and distempered man1 if1
 upon such a morn as that1 ,i  stood on 
the little bridge across a certain      
brook1 and watched the water  run1 with 
something of a sigh8  ,or if1 when the  
schoolboy beside me  lamented that the  
floods would surely be out1 and his     
day's fishing  spoiled1 ,i said to      
him--,ah1 my boy1 that is a little      
matter4  ,look at  what you are seeing  
now1 and understand what barbarism and  
waste mean4  ,look at all that beautiful
 water which ,god has sent us hither off
 the  ,atlantic1 without trouble or     
expense to us4  ,thousands1 and tens of 
thousands1 of gallons will run under    
this bridge to-day2 and what shall  we  
do with it8  ,nothing4  ,and yet3 think 
only of the mills which that  water     

would have turned4  ,think how it might 
have kept up health and  cleanliness in 
poor creatures packed away in the back  
streets of the  nearest town1 or even in
 ,london itself4  ,think even how       
country folk1 in  many parts of         
,england1 in three months' time1 may be 
crying out for rain1  and afraid of     
short crops1 and fever1 and scarlatina1 
and cattle-plague1  for want of the very
 water which we are now letting run     
back1 wasted1  into the sea from whence 
it came4  ,and yet we call ourselves a  
civilised  people4    ,it is not wise1  
,i know1 to preach to boys4  ,and yet1  
sometimes1 a man  must speak his heart2 
even1 like ,midas' slave1 to the reeds  
by the river  side4  ,and ,i had so     
often1 fishing up and down full many a  
stream1  whispered my story to those    
same river-reeds2 and told them that my 
,lord  the ,sovereign ,demos had1 like  
old ,midas1 asses' ears in spite of all 
his  gold1 that ,i thought ,i might for 
once tell it the boy likewise1 in hope  

that he might help his generation to    
mend that which my own generation  does 
not seem like to mend4    ,i might have 
said more to him3 but did not4  ,for it 
is not well to  destroy too early the   
child's illusion1 that people must be   
wise because  they are grown up1 and    
have votes1 and rule--or think they     
rule--the  world4  ,the child will find 
out how true that is soon enough for    
himself4  ,if the truth be forced on him
 by the hot words of those with whom he 
lives1 it is apt to breed in him that   
contempt1 stormful and therefore        
barren1 which makes revolutions2 and not
 that pity1 calm and therefore  helpful1
 which makes reforms4    ,so ,i might   
have said to him1 but did not--    ,and 
then men pray for rain3    ,my boy1 did 
you ever hear the old ,eastern legend   
about the ,gipsies8  ,how  they were    
such good musicians1 that some great    
,indian ,sultan sent for the  whole     
tribe1 and planted them near his palace1
 and gave them land1 and  ploughs to    

break it up1 and seed to sow it1 that   
they might dwell there1  and play and   
sing to him4    ,but when the winter    
arrived1 the ,gipsies all came to the   
,sultan1 and  cried that they were      
starving4  ,but what have you done with 
the seed-  corn which ,i gave you8  ,o  
,light of the ,age1 we ate it in the    
summer4  ,and what have you done with   
the ploughs which ,i gave you8  ,o      
,glory of  the ,universe1 we burnt them 
to bake the corn withal4    ,then said  
that great ,sultan--,like the           
butterflies you have lived2 and  like   
the butterflies you shall wander4  ,so  
he drove them out4  ,and that  is how   
the ,gipsies came hither from the ,east4
    ,now suppose that the ,sultan of all
 ,sultans1 who sends the rain1 should   
make a like answer to us foolish human  
beings1 when we prayed for rain3  ,but  
what have you done with the rain which  
,i gave you six months since8  ,we have 
let it run into the sea4  ,then1 ere you
 ask for more rain1  make places wherein

 you can keep it when you have it4  ,but
 that would  be1 in most cases1 too     
expensive4  ,we can employ our capital  
more  profitably in other directions4   
,it is not for me to say what answer    
might be made to such an excuse4  ,i    
think a child's still unsophisticated   
sense of right and wrong would soon     
supply one2 and probably                
one--considering the complexity1 and    
difficulty1  and novelty1 of the whole  
question--somewhat too harsh2 as        
children's  judgments are wont to be4   
,but would it not be well if our        
children1 without being taught to blame 
anyone for what is past1 were taught    
something about what ought to be  done  
now1 what must be done soon1 with the   
rainfall of these islands2 and  about   
other and kindred health-questions1 on  
the solution of which  depends1 and will
 depend more and more1 the life of      
millions8  ,one would  have thought that
 those public schools and colleges which
 desire to  monopolise the education of 

the owners of the soil2 of the great    
employers of labour2 of the clergy2 and 
of all1 indeed1 who ought to be         
acquainted with the duties of property1 
the conditions of public health1  and1  
in a word1 with the general laws of what
 is now called ,social  ,science--one   
would have thought1 ,i say1 that these  
public schools and  colleges would have 
taught their scholars somewhat at least 
about such  matters1 that they might go 
forth into life with at least some rough
  notions of the causes which make      
people healthy or unhealthy1 rich or    
poor1 comfortable or wretched1 useful or
 dangerous to the ,state4  ,but as  long
 as our great educational institutions1 
safe1 or fancying themselves  safe1 in  
some enchanted castle1 shut out by      
ancient magic from the living  world1   
put a premium on ,latin and ,greek      
verses3 a wise father will1  during the 
holidays1 talk now and then1 ,i hope1   
somewhat after this  fashion3--    ,you 
must understand1 my boy1 that all the   

water in the country comes out  of the  
sky1 and from nowhere else2 and that1   
therefore1 to save and store  the water 
when it falls is a question of life and 
death to crops1 and  man1 and beast2 for
 with or without water is life or death4
  ,if ,i took1  for instance1 the water 
from the moors above and turned it over 
yonder  field1 ,i could double1 and more
 than double1 the crops in that field   
henceforth4    ,then why do ,i not do   
it8    ,only because the field lies     
higher than the house2 and if--now here 
is  one thing which you and every       
civilised man should know--if you have  
water-meadows1 or any irrigated land1 as
 it is called1 above a house1  or even  
on a level with it1 it is certain to    
breed not merely cold and  damp1 but    
fever or ague4  ,our forefathers did not
 understand this2 and  they built their 
houses1 as this is built1 in the lowest 
places they  could find3 sometimes      
because they wished to be near ponds1   
from whence  they could get fish in     

,lent2 but more often1 ,i think1 because
 they wanted  to be sheltered from the  
wind4  ,they had no glass1 as we have1  
in their  windows2 or1 at least1 only   
latticed casements1 which let in the    
wind and  cold2 and they shrank from    
high and exposed1 and therefore really  
healthy1 spots4  ,but now that we have  
good glass1 and sash windows1 and  doors
 that will shut tight1 we can build warm
 houses where we like4  ,and  if you    
ever have to do with the building of    
cottages1 remember that it is  your duty
 to the people who will live in them1   
and therefore to the  ,state1 to see    
that they stand high and dry1 where no  
water can drain down  into their        
foundations1 and where fog1 and the     
poisonous gases which are  given out by 
rotting vegetables1 cannot drain down   
either4  ,you will  learn more about all
 that when you learn1 as every civilised
 lad should  in these days1 something   
about chemistry1 and the laws of fluids 
and  gases4  ,but you know already that 

flowers are cut off by frost in the low 
grounds sooner than in the high2 and    
that the fog at night always lies  along
 the brooks2 and that the sour          
moor-smell which warns us to shut our   
windows at sunset1 comes down from the  
hill1 and not up from the valley4  ,now 
all these things are caused by one and  
the same law2 that cold air is  heavier 
than warm2 and1 therefore1 like so much 
water1 must run down  hill4    ,but what
 about the rainfall8    ,well1 ,i have  
wandered a little from the rainfall3    
though not as far as  you fancy2 for    
fever and ague and rheumatism usually   
mean--rain in the  wrong place4  ,but if
 you knew how much illness1 and         
torturing pain1 and  death1 and sorrow  
arise1 even to this very day1 from      
ignorance of these  simple laws1 then   
you would bear them carefully in mind1  
and wish to know  more about them4  ,but
 now for water being life to the beasts4
  ,do you  remember--though you are     
hardly old enough--the cattle-plague8   

,how the  beasts died1 or had to be     
killed and buried1 by tens of thousands2
 and  how misery and ruin fell on       
hundreds of honest men and women over   
many of  the richest counties of        
,england3 but how we in this vale had no
 cattle-  plague2 and how there was     
none--as far as ,i recollect--in the    
uplands of  ,devon and ,cornwall1 nor of
 ,wales1 nor of the ,scotch ,highlands8 
,now1 do  you know why that was8        
,simply because we here1 like those     
other  uplanders1 are in such a country 
as ,palestine was before the foolish    
,jews  cut down all their timber1 and so
 destroyed their own rainfall--a land   
of brooks of water1 of fountains and    
depths that spring out of valleys  and  
hills4  ,there is hardly a field here   
that has not1 thank ,god1 its  running  
brook1 or its sweet spring1 from which  
our cattle were drinking  their health  
and life1 while in the clay-lands of    
,cheshire1 and in the  ,cambridgeshire  
fens--which were drained utterly        

dry--the poor things  drank no water1   
too often1 save that of the very same   
putrid ponds in  which they had been    
standing all day long1 to cool          
themselves1 and to  keep off the flies4 
,i do not say1 of course1 that bad water
 caused the  cattle-plague4  ,it came by
 infection from the ,east of ,europe4   
,but ,i say  that bad water made the    
cattle ready to take it1 and made it    
spread over  the country2 and when you  
are old enough ,i will give you plenty  
of  proof--some from the herds of your  
own kinsmen--that what ,i say is true4  
,and as for pure water being life to    
human beings3 why have we never fever   
here1 and scarcely ever diseases like   
fever--zymotics1 as the doctors  call   
them8  ,or1 if a case comes into our    
parish from outside1 why does  the fever
 never spread8  ,for the very same      
reason that we had no cattle-  plague4  
,because we have more pure water close  
to every cottage than we  need4  ,and   
this ,i tell you3 that the only two     

outbreaks of deadly disease  which we   
have had here for thirty years1 were    
both of them1 as far as ,i  could see1  
to be traced to filthy water having got 
into the poor folk's  wells4  ,water1   
you must remember1 just as it is life   
when pure1 is death  when foul4  ,for it
 can carry1 unseen to the eye1 and even 
when it looks  clear and sparkling1 and 
tastes soft and sweet1 poisons which    
have  perhaps killed more human beings  
than ever were killed in battle4  ,you  
have read1 perhaps1 how the ,athenians1 
when they were dying of the  plague1    
accused the ,lacedaemonians outside the 
walls of poisoning their  wells2 or how1
 in some of the pestilences of the      
middle ages1 the common  people used to 
accuse the poor harmless ,jews of       
poisoning the wells1 and  set upon them 
and murdered them horribly4  ,they were 
right1 ,i do not  doubt1 in their notion
 that the well-water was giving them the
  pestilence3 but they had not sense to 
see that they were poisoning the  wells 

themselves by their dirt and            
carelessness2 or1 in the case of poor   
besieged ,athens1 probably by mere      
overcrowding1 which has cost many a     
life ere now1 and will cost more4  ,and 
,i am sorry to tell you1 my little  man1
 that even now too many people have no  
more sense than they had1 and  die in   
consequence4  ,if you could see a       
battle-field1 and men shot down1        
writhing and dying in hundreds by shell 
and bullet1 would not that seem  to you 
a horrid sight8  ,then--,i do not wish  
to make you sad too early1  but this is 
a fact which everyone should know--that 
more people1 and not  strong men only1  
but women and little children too1 are  
killed and  wounded in ,great ,britain  
every year by bad water and want of     
water  together1 than were killed and   
wounded in any battle which has been    
fought since you were born4  ,medical   
men know this well4  ,and when you  are 
older1 you may see it for yourself in   
the ,registrar-,general's  reports1     

blue-books1 pamphlets1 and so on1       
without end4    ,but why do not people  
stop such a horrible loss of life8      
,well1 my dear boy1 the true causes of  
it have only been known for the  last   
thirty or forty years2 and we ,english  
are1 as good ,king ,alfred found  us to 
his sorrow a thousand years ago1 very   
slow to move1 even when we  see a thing 
ought to be done4  ,let us hope that in 
this matter--we have  been so in most   
matters as yet--we shall be like the    
tortoise in the  fable1 and not the     
hare2 and by moving slowly1 but surely1 
win the race  at last4  ,but now think  
for yourself3 and see what you would do 
to save  these people from being        
poisoned by bad water4  ,remember that  
the plain  question is this--,the       
rainwater comes down from heaven as     
water1 and  nothing but water4          
,rainwater is the only pure water1 after
 all4  ,how  would you save that for the
 poor people who have none8  ,there2 run
 away  and hunt rabbits on the moor3 but

 look1 meanwhile1 how you would save    
some of this beautiful and precious     
water which is roaring away into the    
sea4    99 99 99 99 99    ,well8  ,what 
would you do8  ,make ponds1 you say1    
like the old monks'  ponds1 now all     
broken down4  ,dam all the glens across 
their mouths1 and  turn them into       
reservoirs4    ,out of the mouths of    
babes and sucklings--,well1 that will   
have to be  done4  ,that is being done  
more and more1 more or less well4  ,the 
good  people of ,glasgow did it first1  
,i think2 and now the good people of    
,manchester1 and of other northern      
towns1 have done it1 and have saved     
many a human life thereby already4  ,but
 it must be done1 some day1 all  over   
,england and ,wales1 and great part of  
,scotland4  ,for the mountain  tops and 
moors1 my boy1 by a beautiful law of    
nature1 compensate for  their own       
poverty by yielding a wealth which the  
rich lowlands cannot  yield4  ,you do   
not understand8  ,then see4  ,yon moor  

above can grow  neither corn nor grass4 
,but one thing it can grow1 and does    
grow1  without which we should have no  
corn nor grass1 and that is--water4     
,not  only does far more rain fall up   
there than falls here down below1 but   
even in drought the high moors condense 
the moisture into dew1 and so  yield    
some water1 even when the lowlands are  
burnt up with drought4  ,the  reason of 
that you must learn hereafter4  ,that it
 is so1 you should know  yourself4  ,for
 on the high chalk downs1 you know1     
where farmers make a  sheep-pond1 they  
never1 if they are wise1 make it in a   
valley or on a  hill-side1 but on the   
bleakest top of the very highest down2  
and there1  if they can once get it     
filled with snow and rain in winter1 the
 blessed  dews of night will keep some  
water in it all the summer through1     
while  the ponds below are utterly dried
 up4  ,and even so it is1 as ,i know1   
with  this very moor4  ,corn and grass  
it will not grow1 because there is too  

little staple1 that is1 soluble         
minerals1 in the sandy soil4  ,but how  
much water it might grow1 you may judge 
roughly for yourself1 by  remembering   
how many brooks like this are running   
off it now to carry  mere dirt into the 
river1 and then into the sea4    ,but   
why should we not make dams at once2 and
 save the water8    ,because we cannot  
afford it4  ,no one would buy the water 
when we had  stored it4  ,the rich in   
town and country will always take       
care--and quite  right they are--to have
 water enough for themselves1 and for   
their  servants too1 whatever it may    
cost them4  ,but the poorer people      
are--and  therefore usually1 alas6 the  
more ignorant--the less water they get2 
and  the less they care to have water2  
and the less they are inclined to pay   
for it2 and the more1 ,i am sorry to    
say1 they waste what little they do     
get2 and ,i am still more sorry to say1 
spoil1 and even steal and sell--in      
,london at least--the stop-cocks and    

lead-pipes which bring the water into   
their houses4  ,so that keeping a       
water-shop is a very troublesome and    
uncertain business2 and one which is not
 likely to pay us or any one  round     
here4    ,but why not let some company  
manage it1 as they manage railways1 and 
gas1  and other things8    ,ah--you have
 been overhearing a good deal about     
companies of late1 ,i see4  ,but this ,i
 will tell you2 that when you grow up1  
and have a vote and  influence1 it will 
be your duty1 if you intend to be a good
 citizen1 not  only not to put the      
water-supply of ,england into the hands 
of fresh  companies1 but to help to take
 out of their hands what water-supply   
they  manage already1 especially in     
,london2 and likewise the gas-supply2   
and  the railroads2 and everything else1
 in a word1 which everybody uses1 and   
must use4  ,for you must understand--at 
least as soon as you can--that  though  
the men who make up companies are no    
worse than other men1 and  some of them1

 as you ought to know1 very good men2   
yet what they have to  look to is their 
profits2 and the less water they supply1
 and the worse  it is1 the more profit  
they make4  ,for most water1 ,i am sorry
 to say1 is  fouled before the water    
companies can get to it1 as this water  
which runs  past us will be1 and as the 
,thames water above ,london is4         
,therefore it  has to be cleansed1 or   
partly cleansed1 at a very great        
expense4  ,so  water companies have to  
be inspected--in plain ,english1        
watched--at a  very heavy expense to the
 nation1 by government officers2 and    
compelled  to do their best1 and take   
their utmost care4  ,and so it has come 
to pass  that the ,london water is not  
now nearly as bad as some of it was     
thirty  years ago1 when it was no more  
fit to drink than that in the cattle    
yard  tank4  ,but still we must have    
more water1 and better1 in ,london2 for 
it  is growing year by year4  ,there are
 more than three millions of people     

already in what we call ,london2 and ere
 you are an old man there may be        
between four and five millions4  ,now to
 supply all these people with  water is 
a duty which we must not leave to any   
private companies4  ,it  must be done by
 a public authority1 as is fit and      
proper in a free self-  governing       
country4  ,in this matter1 as in all    
others1 we will try to do  what the     
,royal ,commission told us four years   
ago we ought to do4  ,i hope  that you  
will see1 though ,i may not1 the day    
when what we call ,london1  but which is
 really1 nine-tenths of it1 only a great
 nest of separate  villages huddled     
together1 will be divided into three    
great  self-governing cities1 ,london1  
,westminster1 and ,southwark2 each with 
its  own corporation1 like that of the  
venerable and well-governed ,city of    
,london2 each managing its own          
water-supply1 gas-supply1 and sewage1   
and  other matters besides2 and managing
 them1 like ,dublin1 ,glasgow1          

,manchester1 ,liverpool1 and other great
 northern towns1 far more cheaply  and  
far better than any companies can do it 
for them4    ,but where shall we get    
water enough for all these millions of  
people8  ,there are no mountains near   
,london4  ,but we might give them the   
water off  our moors4    ,no1 no1 my    
boy4       ,he that will not when he    
may1     ,when he will1 he shall have   
nay4    ,some fifteen years ago the     
,londoners might have had water from us2
 and ,i  was one of those who did my    
best to get it for them3 but the water  
companies did not choose to take it2 and
 now this part of ,england is  growing  
so populous and so valuable that it     
wants all its little rainfall  for      
itself4  ,so there is another leaf torn 
out of the ,sibylline books for  the    
poor old water companies4  ,you do not  
understand3 you will some day4  ,but you
 may comfort yourself about ,london4    
,for it happens to be1 ,i  think1 the   
luckiest city in the world2 and if it   

had not been1 we should  have had       
pestilence on pestilence in it1 as      
terrible as the great plague  of        
,charles ,,ii4's time4  ,the old        
,britons1 without knowing in the least  
what they were doing1 settled old       
,london city in the very centre of the  
most wonderful natural reservoir in this
 island1 or perhaps in all  ,europe2    
which reaches from ,kent into           
,wiltshire1 and round again into        
,suffolk2 and that is1 the dear old     
chalk downs4    ,why1 they are always   
dry4    ,yes4  ,but the turf on them    
never burns up1 and the streams which   
flow  through them never run dry1 and   
seldom or never flood either4  ,do you  
not  know1 from ,winchester1 that that  
is true8  ,then where is all the rain   
and  snow gone1 which falls on them year
 by year1 but into the chalk itself1    
and into the greensands1 too1 below the 
chalk8  ,there it is1 soaked up as  by a
 sponge1 in quantity incalculable2      
enough1 some think1 to supply  ,london1 

let it grow as huge as it may4  ,i wish 
,i too were sure of that4  ,but the     
,commission has shown itself so wise and
 fair1 and brave  likewise--too brave1  
,i am sorry to say1 for some who might  
have supported  them--that it is not for
 me to gainsay their opinion4    ,but if
 there was not water enough in the      
chalk1 are not the ,londoners  rich     
enough to bring it from any distance8   
,my boy1 in this also we will agree with
 the ,commission--that we ought not  to 
rob ,peter to pay ,paul1 and take water 
to a distance which other people  close 
at hand may want4  ,look at the map of  
,england and southern  ,scotland2 and   
see for yourself what is just1 according
 to geography and  nature4  ,there are  
four mountain-ranges2 four great        
water-fields4  ,first1  the hills of the
 ,border4  ,their rainfall ought to be  
stored for the  ,lothians and the       
extreme north of ,england4  ,then the   
,yorkshire and  ,derbyshire hills--the  
central chine of ,england4  ,their      

rainfall is being  stored already1 to   
the honour of the shrewd northern men1  
for the  manufacturing counties east and
 west of the hills4  ,then come the lake
  mountains--the finest water-field of  
all1 because more rain by far falls     
there than in any place in ,england4    
,but they will be wanted to supply      
,lancashire1 and some day ,liverpool    
itself2 for ,liverpool is now using     
rain which belongs more justly to other 
towns2 and besides1 there are  plenty of
 counties and towns1 down into          
,cheshire1 which would be glad of  what 
water ,lancashire does not want4  ,and  
last come the ,snowdon  mountains1 a    
noble water-field1 which ,i know well2  
for an old dream of  mine has been1 that
 ere ,i died ,i should see all the rain 
of the ,carnedds1  and the ,glyders1 and
 ,siabod1 and ,snowdon itself1 carried  
across the  ,conway river to feed the   
mining districts of ,north ,wales1 where
 the  streams are now all foul with oil 
and lead2 and then on into the western  

coal and iron fields1 to ,wolverhampton 
and ,birmingham itself3 and if ,i  were 
the engineer who got that done1 ,i      
should be happier--prouder ,i dare  not 
say--than if ,i had painted nobler      
pictures than ,raffaelle1 or written    
nobler plays than ,shakespeare4  ,i say 
that1 boy1 in most deliberate  earnest4 
,but meanwhile1 do you not see that in  
districts where coal and  iron may be   
found1 and fresh manufactures may spring
 up any day in any  place1 each district
 has a right to claim the nearest       
rainfall for  itself8  ,and now1 when we
 have got the water into its proper     
place1 let  us see what we shall do with
 it4    ,but why do you say we8  ,can   
you and ,i do all this8    ,my boy1 are 
not you and ,i free citizens2 part of   
the people1 the  ,commons--as the good  
old word runs--of this country8  ,and   
are we not--or  ought we not to be in   
time--beside that1 educated men8  ,by   
the people1  remember1 ,i mean1 not only
 the hand-working man who has just got a

 vote2  ,i mean the clergy of all       
denominations2 and the gentlemen of the 
press2  and last1 but not least1 the    
scientific men4  ,if those four classes 
together were to tell every             
government--,free water we will have1   
and as  much as we reasonably choose2   
and tell every candidate for the ,house 
of  ,commons1--,unless you promise to   
get us as much free water as we         
reasonably choose1 we will not return   
you to ,parliament3 then1 ,i think1  we 
four should put such a pressure on      
government as no water companies1  or   
other vested interests1 could long      
resist4  ,and if any of those four      
classes should hang back1 and waste     
their time and influence over matters   
far less important and less pressing1   
the other three must laugh at them1  and
 more than laugh at them2 and ask       
them--,why have you education1 why  have
 you influence1 why have you votes1 why 
are you freemen and not  slaves1 if not 
to preserve the comfort1 the decency1   

the health1 the  lives of men1 women1   
and children--most of those latter your 
own wives  and your own children8       
,but what shall we do with the water8   
,well1 after all1 that is a more        
practical matter than speculations      
grounded on the supposition that all    
classes will do their duty4  ,but the   
first thing we will do will be to give  
to the very poorest houses a  constant  
supply1 at high pressure2 so that       
everybody may take as much  water as he 
likes1 instead of having to keep the    
water in little  cisterns1 where it gets
 foul and putrid only too often4    ,but
 will they not waste it then8    ,so far
 from it1 wherever the water has been   
laid on at high pressure1 the  waste1   
which is terrible now--some say that in 
,london one-third of the  water is      
wasted--begins to lessen2 and both water
 and expense are saved4  ,if you will   
only think1 you will see one reason why4
  ,if a woman leaves a  high-pressure   
tap running1 she will flood her place   

and her neighbour's  too4  ,she will be 
like the magician's servant1 who called 
up the demon to  draw water for him2 and
 so he did3 but when he had begun he    
would not  stop1 and if the magician had
 not come home1 man and house would have
  been washed away4    ,but if it saves 
money1 why do not the water companies do
 it8    ,because--and really here there 
are many excuses for the poor old water 
companies1 when so many of them swerve  
and gib at the very mention of  constant
 water-supply1 like a poor horse set to 
draw a load which he  feels is too heavy
 for him--because1 to keep everything in
 order among  dirty1 careless1 and often
 drunken people1 there must be officers 
with  lawful authority--water-policemen 
we will call them--who can enter        
people's houses when they will1 and if  
they find anything wrong with the       
water1 set it to rights with a high     
hand1 and even summon the people who    
have set it wrong4  ,and that is a power
 which1 in a free country1 must  never  

be given to the servants of any private 
company1 but only to the  officers of a 
corporation or of the government4       
,and what shall we do with the rest of  
the water8    ,well1 we shall have1 ,i  
believe1 so much to spare that we may at
 least do  this--,in each district of   
each city1 and the centre of each town1 
we may  build public baths and          
lavatories1 where poor men and women may
 get their  warm baths when they will2  
for now they usually never bathe at all1
  because they will not--and ought not1 
if they be hard-worked folk--bathe  in  
cold water during nine months of the    
year4  ,and there they shall wash  their
 clothes1 and dry them by steam2 instead
 of washing them as now1 at  home1      
either under back sheds1 where they     
catch cold and rheumatism1 or  too      
often1 alas6 in their own living rooms1 
in an atmosphere of foul  vapour1 which 
drives the father to the public-house   
and the children into  the streets2 and 
which not only prevents the clothes from

 being  thoroughly dried again1 but is1 
my dear boy1 as you will know when you  
are older1 a very hot-bed of disease4   
,and they shall have other  comforts1   
and even luxuries1 these public         
lavatories2 and be made1 in  time1      
graceful and refining1 as well as merely
 useful4  ,nay1 we will  even1 ,i think1
 have in front of each of them a real   
fountain2 not like  the                 
drinking-fountains--though they are     
great and needful boons--which  you see 
here and there about the streets1 with a
 tiny dribble of water to  a great deal 
of expensive stone3 but real fountains1 
which shall leap1  and sparkle1 and     
plash1 and gurgle2 and fill the place   
with life1 and  light1 and coolness2 and
 sing in the people's ears the sweetest 
of all  earthly songs--save the song of 
a mother over her child--the song of    
,the  ,laughing ,water4    ,but will not
 that be a waste8    ,yes1 my boy4  ,and
 for that very reason1 ,i think we1 the 
people1 will have  our fountains2 if it 

be but to make our governments1 and     
corporations1  and all public bodies and
 officers1 remember that they all--save 
,her  ,majesty the ,queen--are our      
servants2 and not we theirs2 and that we
  choose to have water1 not only to wash
 with1 but to play with1 if we  like4   
,and ,i believe--for the world1 as you  
will find1 is full not only  of just but
 of generous souls--that if the         
water-supply were set really  right1    
there would be found1 in many a city1   
many a generous man who1  over and above
 his compulsory water-rate1 would give  
his poor  fellow-townsmen such a real   
fountain as those which ennoble the     
great  square at ,carcasonne and the    
great square at ,nismes2 to be a thing  
of  beauty and a joy for ever4    ,and  
now1 if you want to go back to your     
,latin and ,greek1 you shall  translate 
for me into ,latin--,i do not expect you
 to do it into ,greek1  though it would 
turn very well into ,greek1 for the     
,greeks knew all about  the matter long 

before the ,romans--what follows here2  
and you shall  verify the facts and the 
names1 c41 in it from your dictionaries 
of  antiquity and biography1 that you   
may remember all the better what it     
says4  ,and by that time1 ,i think1 you 
will have learnt something more  useful 
to yourself1 and1 ,i hope1 to your      
country hereafter1 than if you  had     
learnt to patch together the neatest    
,greek and ,latin verses which  have    
appeared since the days of ,mr4         
,canning4    99 99 99 99 99    ,i have  
often amused myself1 by fancying one    
question which an old ,roman  emperor   
would ask1 were he to rise from his     
grave and visit the sights of  ,london  
under the guidance of some minister of  
state4  ,the august shade  would1       
doubtless1 admire1 our railroads and    
bridges1 our cathedrals and  our public 
parks1 and much more of which we need   
not be ashamed4  ,but  after a while1 ,i
 think1 he would look round1 whether in 
,london or in most  of our great cities1

 inquiringly and in vain1 for one class 
of buildings1  which in his empire were 
wont to be almost as conspicuous and as 
splendid1 because1 in public opinion1   
almost as necessary1 as the  basilicas  
and temples--,and where1 he would ask1  
are your public  baths8  ,and if the    
minister of state who was his guide     
should answer--,o  great ,caesar1 ,i    
really do not know4  ,i believe there   
are some somewhere  at the back of that 
ugly building which we call the         
,national ,gallery2 and  ,i think there 
have been some meetings lately in the   
,east ,end1 and an  amateur concert at  
the ,albert ,hall1 for restoring1 by    
private  subscriptions1 some baths and  
wash-houses in ,bethnal ,green1 which   
had  fallen to decay4  ,and there may be
 two or three more about the            
metropolis2 for parish vestries have    
powers by ,act of ,parliament to        
establish such places1 if they think    
fit1 and choose to pay for them out  of 
the rates3--,then1 ,i think1 the august 

shade might well make  answer--,we used 
to call you1 in old ,rome1 northern     
barbarians4  ,it seems  that you have   
not lost all your barbarian habits4     
,are you aware that1 in  every city in  
the ,roman empire1 there were1 as a     
matter of course1 public  baths open1   
not only to the poorest freeman1 but to 
the slave1 usually  for the payment of  
the smallest current coin1 and often    
gratuitously8  ,are  you aware that in  
,rome itself1 millionaire after         
millionaire1 emperor  after emperor1    
from ,menenius ,agrippa and ,nero down  
to ,diocletian and  ,constantine1 built 
baths1 and yet more baths2 and connected
 with them  gymnasia for exercise1      
lecture-rooms1 libraries1 and porticos1 
wherein  the people might have shade and
 shelter1 and rest8--,i remark1         
by-the-by1  that ,i have not seen in all
 your ,london a single covered place in 
which  the people may take shelter      
during a shower--,are you aware that    
these  baths were of the most           

magnificent architecture1 decorated with
 marbles1  paintings1 sculptures1       
fountains1 what not8  ,and yet ,i had   
heard1 in  ,hades down below1 that you  
prided yourselves here on the study of  
the  learned languages2 and1 indeed1    
taught little but ,greek and ,latin at  
your  public schools8    ,then1 if the  
minister should make reply--,oh yes1 we 
know all this4  ,even  since the revival
 of letters in the end of the fifteenth 
century a whole  literature has been    
written--a great deal of it1 ,i fear1 by
 pedants who  seldom washed even their  
hands and faces--about your ,greek and  
,roman  baths4  ,we visit their colossal
 ruins in ,italy and elsewhere with awe 
and  admiration2 and the discovery of a 
new ,roman bath in any old city of our  
isles sets all our antiquaries buzzing  
with interest4    ,then why1 the shade  
might ask1 do you not copy an example   
which you so  much admire8  ,surely     
,england must be much in want1 either of
 water1 or of  fuel to heat it with8    

,on the contrary1 our rainfall is almost
 too great2 our soil so damp that  we   
have had to invent a whole art of       
subsoil drainage unknown to you2  while1
 as for fuel1 our coal-mines make us the
 great fuel-exporting  people of the    
world4    ,what a quiet sneer might curl
 the lip of a ,constantine as he        
replied--,not  in vain1 as ,i said1 did 
we call you1 some fifteen hundred years 
ago1 the  barbarians of the north4  ,but
 tell me1 good barbarian1 whom ,i know  
to be  both brave and wise--for the fame
 of your young ,british empire has      
reached us even in the realms below1 and
 we recognise in you1 with all  respect1
 a people more like us ,romans than any 
which has appeared on  earth for many   
centuries--how is it you have forgotten 
that sacred duty  of keeping the people 
clean1 which you surely at one time     
learnt from us8  ,when your ancestors   
entered our armies1 and rose1 some of   
them1 to be  great generals1 and even   
emperors1 like those two ,teuton        

peasants1 ,justin  and ,justinian1 who1 
long after my days1 reigned in my own   
,constantinople3  then1 at least1 you   
saw baths1 and used them2 and felt1     
after the bath1  that you were civilised
 men1 and not 'sordidi ac foetentes1' as
 we used  to call you when fresh out of 
your bullock-waggons and cattle-pens4   
,how  is it that you have forgotten that
 lesson8    ,the minister1 ,i fear1     
would have to answer that our ancestors 
were  barbarous enough1 not only to     
destroy the ,roman cities1 and temples1 
and  basilicas1 and statues1 but the    
,roman baths likewise2 and then retired1
  each man to his own freehold in the   
country1 to live a life not much more   
cleanly or more graceful than that of   
the swine which were his favourite      
food4  ,but he would have a right to    
plead1 as an excuse1 that not only in   
,england1 but throughout the whole of   
the conquered ,latin empire1 the  ,latin
 priesthood1 who1 in some respects1     
were--to their honour--the              

representatives of ,roman civilisation  
and the protectors of its remnants1     
were the determined enemies of its      
cleanliness2 that they looked on        
personal dirt--like the old hermits of  
the ,thebaid--as a sign of  sanctity2   
and discouraged--as they are said to do 
still in some of the  ,romance countries
 of ,europe--the use of the bath1 as not
 only luxurious1  but also indecent4    
,at which answer1 it seems to me1       
another sneer might curl the lip of the 
august shade1 as he said to             
himself--,this1 at least1 ,i did not    
expect1  when ,i made ,christianity the 
state religion of my empire4  ,but you1 
good  barbarian1 look clean enough4     
,you do not look on dirt as a sign of   
sanctity8    ,on the contrary1 sire1 the
 upper classes of our empire boast of   
being  the cleanliest--perhaps the only 
perfectly cleanly--people in the world3 
except1 of course1 the savages of the   
,south ,seas4  ,and dirt is so far  from
 being a thing which we admire1 that our

 scientific men--than whom  the world   
has never seen wiser--have proved to us1
 for a whole generation  past1 that dirt
 is the fertile cause of disease and    
drunkenness1 misery  and recklessness4  
,and1 therefore1 replies the shade1 ere 
he disappears1 of discontent  and       
revolution2 followed by a tyranny       
endured1 as in ,rome and many  another  
place1 by men once free2 because tyranny
 will at least do for  them what they   
are too lazy1 and cowardly1 and greedy  
to do for  themselves4  ,farewell1 and  
prosper2 as you seem likely to prosper1 
on the  whole4  ,but if you wish me to  
consider you a civilised nation3 let me 
hear that you have brought a great river
 from the depths of the earth1 be  they 
a thousand fathoms deep1 or from your   
nearest mountains1 be they  five hundred
 miles away2 and have washed out        
,london's dirt--and your own  shame4    
,till then1 abstain from judging too    
harshly a ,constantine1 or  even a      
,caracalla2 for they1 whatever were     

their sins1 built baths1 and  kept their
 people clean4  ,but do your            
gymnasia--your schools and              
universities1 teach your youth nought   
about all this8          ,,thrift4  ,a  
,,lecture ,,delivered ,,at ,,winchester1
 ,,march #ag1 #ahfi4      ,ladies1--,i  
have chosen for the title of this       
lecture a practical and  prosaic word1  
because ,i intend the lecture itself to 
be as practical and  prosaic as ,i can  
make it1 without becoming altogether    
dull4    ,the question of the better or 
worse education of women is one far too 
important for vague sentiment1 wild     
aspirations1 or ,utopian dreams4    ,it 
is a practical question1 on which       
depends not merely money or comfort1    
but too often health and life1 as the   
consequences of a good education1  or   
disease and death--,i know too well of  
what ,i speak--as the  consequences of a
 bad one4    ,i beg you1 therefore1 to  
put out of your minds at the outset any 
fancy  that ,i wish for a social        

revolution in the position of women2 or 
that ,i  wish to see them educated by   
exactly the same methods1 and in exactly
 the  same subjects1 as men4  ,british  
lads1 on an average1 are far too        
ill-taught still1 in spite of all recent
 improvements1 for me to wish  that     
,british girls should be taught in the  
same way4    ,moreover1 whatever defects
 there may have been--and defects there 
must be  in all things human--in the    
past education of ,british women1 it has
 been  most certainly a splendid moral  
success4  ,it has made1 by the grace of 
,god1 ,british women the best wives1    
mothers1 daughters1 aunts1 sisters1     
that the world1 as far as ,i can        
discover1 has yet seen4    ,let those   
who will sneer at the women of ,england4
  ,we who have to do the  work and to   
fight the battle of life know the       
inspiration which we derive  from their 
virtue1 their counsel1 their tenderness1
 and--but too  often--from their        
compassion and their forgiveness4       

,there is1 ,i doubt  not1 still left in 
,england many a man with chivalry and   
patriotism enough  to challenge the     
world to show so perfect a specimen of  
humanity as a  cultivated ,british      
woman4    ,but just because a cultivated
 ,british woman is so perfect a         
personage2  therefore ,i wish to see all
 ,british women cultivated4  ,because   
the  womanhood of ,england is so        
precious a treasure2 ,i wish to see none
 of it  wasted4  ,it is an invaluable   
capital1 or material1 out of which the  
greatest possible profit to the nation  
must be made4  ,and that can only  be   
done by thrift2 and that1 again1 can    
only be attained by knowledge4          
,consider that word thrift4  ,if you    
will look at ,dr4 ,johnson's            
,dictionary1  or if you know your       
,shakespeare1 you will see that thrift  
signified  originally profits1 gain1    
riches gotten--in a word1 the marks of a
 man's  thriving4    ,how1 then1 did the
 word thrift get to mean parsimony1     

frugality1 the  opposite of waste8      
,just in the same way as economy--which 
first1 of  course1 meant the management 
of a household--got to mean also the    
opposite of waste4    ,it was found that
 in commerce1 in husbandry1 in any      
process1 in fact1 men  throve in        
proportion as they saved their capital1 
their material1 their  force4    ,now   
this is a great law which runs through  
life2 one of those laws of  nature--call
 them1 rather1 laws of ,god--which apply
 not merely to  political economy1 to   
commerce1 and to mechanics2 but to      
physiology1 to  society2 to the         
intellect1 to the heart1 of every person
 in this room4    ,the secret of        
thriving is thrift2 saving of force2 to 
get as much work as  possible done with 
the least expenditure of power1 the     
least jar and  obstruction1 the least   
wear and tear4    ,and the secret of    
thrift is knowledge4  ,in proportion as 
you know the  laws and nature of a      
subject1 you will be able to work at it 

easily1  surely1 rapidly1 successfully2 
instead of wasting your money or your   
energies in mistaken schemes1 irregular 
efforts1 which end in  disappointment   
and exhaustion4    ,the secret of       
thrift1 ,i say1 is knowledge4  ,the more
 you know1 the more  you can save       
yourself and that which belongs to you2 
and can do more work  with less effort4 
,a knowledge of the laws of commercial  
credit1 we all know1 saves capital1     
enabling a less capital to do the work  
of a greater4  ,knowledge of the        
electric telegraph saves time2 knowledge
 of writing saves human speech  and     
locomotion2 knowledge of domestic       
economy saves income2 knowledge of      
sanitary laws saves health and life2    
knowledge of the laws of the  intellect 
saves wear and tear of brain2 and       
knowledge of the laws of the            
spirit--what does it not save8    ,a    
well-educated moral sense1 a            
well-regulated character1 saves from    
idleness and ennui1 alternating with    

sentimentality and excitement1 those    
tenderer emotions1 those deeper         
passions1 those nobler aspirations of   
humanity1 which are the heritage of the 
woman far more than of the man2  and    
which are potent in her1 for evil or for
 good1 in proportion as they  are left  
to run wild and undisciplined1 or are   
trained and developed into  graceful1   
harmonious1 self-restraining strength1  
beautiful in themselves1  and a blessing
 to all who come under their influence4 
,what1 therefore1 ,i recommend to ladies
 in this lecture is thrift2 thrift  of  
themselves and of their own powers3 and 
knowledge as the parent of  thrift4     
,and because it is well to begin with   
the lower applications of thrift1  and  
to work up to the higher1 ,i am much    
pleased to hear that the first  course  
of the proposed lectures to women in    
this place will be one on  domestic     
economy4    ,i presume that the learned 
gentleman who will deliver these        
lectures will  be the last to mean by   

that term the mere saving of money2 that
 he will  tell you1 as--being a         
,german--he will have good reason to    
know1 that the  young lady who learns   
thrift in domestic economy is also      
learning thrift  of the very highest    
faculties of her immortal spirit4  ,he  
will tell you1  ,i doubt not--for he    
must know--how you may see in ,germany  
young ladies  living in what we more    
luxurious ,british would consider       
something like  poverty2 cooking1       
waiting at table1 and performing many a 
household  office which would be here   
considered menial2 and yet finding time 
for a  cultivation of the intellect1    
which is1 unfortunately1 too rare in    
,great  ,britain4    ,the truth is1 that
 we ,british are too wealthy4  ,we make 
money1 if not too  rapidly for the good 
of the nation at large1 yet too rapidly1
 ,i fear1 for  the good of the daughters
 of those who make it4  ,their          
temptation--,i do  not1 of course1 say  
they all yield to it--but their         

temptation is1 to  waste of the very    
simplest--,i had almost said1 if ,i may 
be pardoned the  expression1 of the most
 barbaric--kind2 to an oriental waste of
 money1  and waste of time2 to a        
fondness for mere finery1 pardonable    
enough1 but  still a waste2 and to the  
mistaken fancy that it is the mark of a 
lady to  sit idle and let servants do   
everything for her4    ,such women may  
well take a lesson by contrast from the 
pure and noble1  useful and cultivated  
thrift of an average ,german young      
lady--for ladies  these ,german women   
are1 in every possible sense of the     
word4    ,but it is not of this sort of 
waste of which ,i wish to speak to-day4 
,i  only mention the matter in passing1 
to show that high intellectual  culture 
is not incompatible with the performance
 of homely household  duties1 and that  
the moral success of which ,i spoke just
 now need not be  injured1 any more than
 it is in ,germany1 by intellectual     
success  likewise4  ,i trust that these 

words may reassure those parents1 if any
  such there be here1 who may fear that 
these lectures will withdraw women  from
 their existing sphere of interest and  
activity4  ,that they should  entertain 
such a fear is not surprising1 after the
 extravagant opinions  and schemes which
 have been lately broached in various   
quarters4    ,the programme to these    
lectures expressly disclaims any such   
intentions2  and ,i1 as a husband and a 
father1 expressly disclaim any such     
intention  likewise4    ,to fit women   
for the more enlightened performance of 
their special  duties2 to help them     
towards learning how to do better what  
we doubt not  they are already doing    
well2 is1 ,i honestly believe1 the only 
object of  the promoters of this scheme4
    ,let us see now how some of these   
special duties can be better performed  
by help of a little enlightenment as to 
the laws which regulate them4    ,now1  
no man will deny--certainly no man who  
is past forty-five1 and whose  digestion

 is beginning to quail before the lumps 
of beef and mutton which  are the boast 
of a ,british kitchen1 and to prefer1   
with ,justice ,shallow1  and1 ,i        
presume1 ,sir ,john ,falstaff also1 any 
pretty little tiny  kickshaws--no man1  
,i say1 who has reached that age1 but   
will feel it a  practical comfort to him
 to know that the young ladies of his   
family are  at all events good cooks2   
and understand1 as the ,french do1      
thrift in the  matter of food4          
,neither will any parent who wishes1    
naturally enough1 that his daughters    
should cost him as little as possible2  
and wishes1 naturally enough also1  that
 they should be as well dressed as      
possible1 deny that it would be a  good 
thing for them to be practical milliners
 and mantua-makers2 and1 by  making     
their own clothes gracefully and well1  
exercise thrift in  clothing4    ,but1  
beside this thrift in clothing1 ,i am   
not alone1 ,i believe1 in  wishing for  
some thrift in the energy which produces

 it4  ,labour  misapplied1 you will     
agree1 is labour wasted2 and as dress1  
,i presume1 is  intended to adorn the   
person of the wearer1 the making a dress
 which only  disfigures her may be      
considered as a plain case of waste4    
,it would be  impertinent in me to go   
into any details3 but it is impossible  
to walk  about the streets now without  
passing young people who must be under a
  deep delusion as to the success of    
their own toilette4  ,instead of        
graceful and noble simplicity of form1  
instead of combinations of colour  at   
once rich and delicate1 because in      
accordance with the chromatic laws  of  
nature1 one meets with phenomena more   
and more painful to the eye1 and        
startling to common sense1 till one     
would be hardly more astonished1 and    
certainly hardly more shocked1 if in a  
year or two one should pass some  one   
going about like a ,chinese lady1 with  
pinched feet1 or like a savage  of the  
,amazons1 with a wooden bung through her

 lower lip4  ,it is easy to  complain of
 these monstrosities3 but impossible to 
cure them1 it seems to  me1 without an  
education of the taste1 an education in 
those laws of  nature which produce     
beauty in form and beauty in colour4    
,for that the  cause of these failures  
lies in want of education is patent4    
,they are  most common in--,i had almost
 said they are confined to--those       
classes of  well-to-do persons who are  
the least educated2 who have no standard
 of  taste of their own2 and who do not 
acquire any from cultivated friends  and
 relations3 who1 in consequence1 dress  
themselves blindly according to  what   
they conceive to be the ,paris fashions1
 conveyed at third-hand  through an     
equally uneducated dressmaker2 in       
innocent ignorance of the  fact--for    
fact ,i believe it to be--that ,paris   
fashions are invented now  not in the   
least for the sake of beauty1 but for   
the sake of producing1  through variety1
 increased expenditure1 and thereby     

increased employment2  according to the 
strange system which now prevails in    
,france of  compelling1 if not          
prosperity1 at least the signs of it2   
and like  schoolboys before a holiday1  
nailing up the head of the weather glass
 to  insure fine weather4    ,let       
,british ladies educate themselves in   
those laws of beauty which are  as      
eternal as any other of nature's laws2  
which may be seen fulfilled1 as  ,mr4   
,ruskin tells us1 so eloquently in every
 flower and every leaf1 in  every       
sweeping down and rippling wave3 and    
they will be able to invent  graceful   
and economical dresses for themselves1  
without importing tawdry  and expensive 
ugliness from ,france4    ,let me now go
 a step further1 and ask you to consider
 this4--,there are in  ,england now a   
vast number1 and an increasing number1  
of young women who1  from various       
circumstances which we all know1 must in
 after life be  either the mistresses of
 their own fortunes1 or the earners of  

their own  bread4  ,and1 to do that     
wisely and well1 they must be more or   
less women  of business2 and to be women
 of business1 they must know something  
of the  meaning of the words capital1   
profit1 price1 value1 labour1 wages1 and
 of  the relation between those two     
last4  ,in a word1 they must know a     
little  political economy4  ,nay1 ,i    
sometimes think that the mistress of    
every  household might find1 not only   
thrift of money1 but thrift of brain2   
freedom from mistakes1 anxieties1       
worries of many kinds1 all of which eat 
out the health as well as the heart1 by 
a little sound knowledge of the         
principles of political economy4        
,when we consider that every mistress of
 a household is continually  buying1 if 
not selling2 that she is continually    
hiring and employing  labour in the form
 of servants2 and very often1 into the  
bargain1 keeping  her husband's         
accounts3 ,i cannot but think that her  
hard-worked brain  might be clearer1 and

 her hard-tried desire to do her duty by
 every  subject in her little kingdom1  
might be more easily satisfied1 had she 
read something of what ,mr4 ,john       
,stuart ,mill has written1 especially on
  the duties of employer and employed4  
,a capitalist1 a commercialist1 an      
employer of labour1 and an              
accountant--every mistress of a         
household is  all these1 whether she    
likes it or not2 and it would be surely 
well for  her1 in so very complicated a 
state of society as this1 not to trust  
merely to that mother-wit1 that         
intuitive sagacity and innate power of  
ruling her fellow-creatures1 which      
carries women so nobly through their    
work in simpler and less civilised      
societies4    ,and here ,i stop to      
answer those who may say--as ,i have    
heard it said--,that  a woman's         
intellect is not fit for business2 that 
when a woman takes to  business1 she is 
apt to do it ill1 and unpleasantly      
likewise2 to be more  suspicious1 more  

irritable1 more grasping1 more          
unreasonable1 than  regular men of      
business would be2 that--as ,i have     
heard it put--a woman  does not fight   
fair4  ,the answer is simple4  ,that a  
woman's intellect is  eminently fitted  
for business is proved by the enormous  
amount of  business she gets through    
without any special training for it3 but
 those  faults in a woman of which some 
men complain are simply the results of  
her not having had a special training4  
,she does not know the laws of          
business4  ,she does not know the rules 
of the game she is playing2 and         
therefore she is playing it in the dark1
 in fear and suspicion1 apt to  judge of
 questions on personal grounds1 often   
offending those with whom  she has to   
do1 and oftener still making herself    
miserable over matters of  law or of    
business1 on which a little sound       
knowledge would set her head  and her   
heart at rest4    ,when ,i have seen    
widows1 having the care of children1 of 

a great  household1 of a great estate1  
of a great business1 struggling         
heroically1  and yet often mistakenly2  
blamed severely for selfishness and     
ambition1  while they were really       
sacrificing themselves with the divine  
instinct of  a mother for their         
children's interest3 ,i have stood by   
with mingled  admiration and pity1 and  
said to myself--,how nobly she is doing 
the work  without teaching6  ,how much  
more nobly would she have done it had   
she  been taught6  ,she is now doing the
 work at the most enormous waste of     
energy and of virtue3 had she had       
knowledge1 thrift would have followed   
it2 she would have done more work with  
far less trouble4  ,she will  probably  
kill herself if she goes on3 sound      
knowledge would have saved  her health1 
saved her heart1 saved her friends1 and 
helped the very loved  ones for whom she
 labours1 not always with success4    ,a
 little political economy1 therefore1   
will at least do no harm to a  woman2   

especially if she have to take care of  
herself in after life2  neither1 ,i     
think1 will she be much harmed by some  
sound knowledge of  another subject1    
which ,i see promised in these          
lectures1--,natural  philosophy1 in its 
various branches1 such as the chemistry 
of common  life1 light1 heat1           
electricity1 c41 c4    ,a little        
knowledge of the laws of light1 for     
instance1 would teach many  women that  
by shutting themselves up day after day1
 week after week1 in  darkened rooms1   
they are as certainly committing a waste
 of health1  destroying their vital     
energy1 and diseasing their brains1 as  
if they  were taking so much poison the 
whole time4    ,a little knowledge of   
the laws of heat would teach women not  
to clothe  themselves and their children
 after foolish and insufficient         
fashions1  which in this climate sow the
 seeds of a dozen different diseases1   
and  have to be atoned for by perpetual 
anxieties1 and by perpetual doctors'    

bills2 and as for a little knowledge of 
the laws of electricity1 one  thrift ,i 
am sure it would produce--thrift to us  
men1 of having to answer  continual     
inquiries as to what the weather is     
going to be1 when a slight  knowledge of
 the barometer1 or of the form of the   
clouds and the  direction of the wind1  
would enable many a lady to judge for   
herself1 and  not1 after inquiry on     
inquiry1 disregard all warnings1 go out 
on the  first appearance of a strip of  
blue sky1 and come home wet through1    
with  what she calls only a chill1 but  
which really means a nail driven into   
her coffin--a probable shortening1      
though it may be a very small one1 of   
her mortal life2 because the food of the
 next twenty-four hours1 which  should  
have gone to keep the vital heat at its 
normal standard1 will have  to be wasted
 in raising it up to that standard1 from
 which it has fallen  by a chill4       
,ladies2 these are subjects on which ,i 
must beg to speak a little more at      

length1 premising them by one statement1
 which may seem jest1 but is  solemn    
earnest--that1 if the medical men of    
this or any other city were  what the   
world now calls alive to their own      
interests--that is1 to the  mere making 
of money2 instead of being1 what medical
 men are1 the most  generous1           
disinterested1 and high-minded class in 
these realms1 then they  would oppose by
 all means in their power the delivery  
of lectures on  natural philosophy to   
women4  ,for if women act upon what they
 learn in  those lectures--and having   
women's hearts1 they will act upon      
it--there  ought to follow a decrease of
 sickness and an increase of health1    
especially among children2 a thrift of  
life1 and a thrift of expense  besides1 
which would very seriously affect the   
income of medical men4    ,for let me   
ask you1 ladies1 with all courtesy1 but 
with all  earnestness--,are you aware of
 certain facts1 of which every one of   
those  excellent medical men is too well

 aware8  ,are you aware that more human 
beings are killed in ,england every year
 by unnecessary and preventable         
diseases than were killed at ,waterloo  
or at ,sadowa8  ,are you aware that  the
 great majority of those victims are    
children8  ,are you aware that the      
diseases which carry them off are for   
the most part such as ought to be       
specially under the control of the women
 who love them1 pet them1 educate  them1
 and would in many cases1 if need be1   
lay down their lives for them8  ,are you
 aware1 again1 of the vast amount of    
disease which1 so both wise  mothers and
 wise doctors assure me1 is engendered  
in the sleeping-room  from simple       
ignorance of the laws of ventilation1   
and in the school-room  likewise1 from  
simple ignorance of the laws of         
physiology8 from an  ignorance of which 
,i shall mention no other case here save
 one--that too  often from ignorance of 
signs of approaching disease1 a child is
 punished  for what is called idleness1 

listlessness1 wilfulness1 sulkiness2 and
  punished1 too1 in the unwisest way--by
 an increase of tasks and  confinement  
to the house1 thus overtasking still    
more a brain already  overtasked1 and   
depressing still more1 by robbing it of 
oxygen and of  exercise1 a system       
already depressed8  ,are you aware1 ,i  
ask again1 of all  this8  ,i speak      
earnestly upon this point1 because ,i   
speak with  experience4  ,as a single   
instance3 a medical man1 a friend of    
mine1  passing by his own school-room1  
heard one of his own little girls       
screaming and crying1 and went in4  ,the
 governess1 an excellent woman1  but    
wholly ignorant of the laws of          
physiology1 complained that the child   
had of late become obstinate and would  
not learn2 and that therefore she  must 
punish her by keeping her indoors over  
the unlearnt lessons4  ,the  father1 who
 knew that the child was usually a very 
good one1 looked at  her carefully for a
 little while2 sent her out of the      

school-room2 and  then said1 ,that child
 must not open a book for a month4  ,if 
,i had not  acted so1 he said to me1 ,i 
should have had that child dead of      
brain-  disease within the year4        
,now1 in the face of such facts as      
these1 is it too much to ask of         
mothers1 sisters1 aunts1 nurses1        
governesses--all who may be occupied in 
the care of children1 especially of     
girls--that they should study thrift  of
 human health and human life1 by        
studying somewhat the laws of life and  
health8  ,there are books--,i may say a 
whole literature of books--written  by  
scientific doctors on these matters1    
which are in my mind far more  important
 to the school-room than half the trashy
 accomplishments1 so-  called1 which are
 expected to be known by governesses4   
,but are they  bought8  ,are they even  
to be bought1 from most country         
booksellers8  ,ah1  for a little        
knowledge of the laws to the neglect of 
which is owing so  much fearful disease1

 which1 if it does not produce immediate
 death1 too  often leaves the           
constitution impaired for years to come4
  ,ah the waste  of health and strength 
in the young2 the waste1 too1 of anxiety
 and  misery in those who love and tend 
them4  ,how much of it might be saved by
  a little rational education in those  
laws of nature which are the will of    
,god about the welfare of our bodies1   
and which1 therefore1 we are as much    
bound to know and to obey1 as we are    
bound to know and obey the spiritual    
laws whereon depends the welfare of our 
souls4    ,pardon me1 ladies1 if ,i have
 given a moment's pain to any one here3 
but ,i  appeal to every medical man in  
the room whether ,i have not spoken the 
truth2 and having such an opportunity as
 this1 ,i felt that ,i must speak  for  
the sake of children1 and of women      
likewise1 or else for ever  hereafter   
hold my peace4    ,let me pass on from  
this painful subject--for painful it has
 been to me  for many years--to a       

question of intellectual thrift--by     
which ,i mean  just now thrift of words2
 thrift of truth2 restraint of the      
tongue2  accuracy and modesty in        
statement4    ,mothers complain to me   
that girls are apt to be--not           
intentionally  untruthful--but          
exaggerative1 prejudiced1 incorrect1 in 
repeating a  conversation or describing 
an event2 and that from this fault      
arise1 as  is to be expected1           
misunderstandings1 quarrels1 rumours1   
slanders1  scandals1 and what not4      
,now1 for this waste of words there is  
but one cure3 and if ,i be told that  it
 is a natural fault of women2 that they 
cannot take the calm judicial  view of  
matters which men boast1 and often boast
 most wrongly1 that they  can take2 that
 under the influence of hope1 fear1     
delicate antipathy1  honest moral       
indignation1 they will let their eyes   
and ears be governed  by their feelings2
 and see and hear only what they wish to
 see and hear3  ,i answer1 that it is   

not for me as a man to start such a     
theory2 but that  if it be true1 it is  
an additional argument for some         
education which will  correct this      
supposed natural defect4  ,and ,i say   
deliberately that there  is but one sort
 of education which will correct it2 one
 which will teach  young women to       
observe facts accurately1 judge them    
calmly1 and describe  them carefully1   
without adding or distorting3 and that  
is1 some training  in natural science4  
,i beg you not to be startled3 but if   
you are1 then test the truth of my      
theory by playing to-night at the game  
called ,russian ,scandal2 in which  a   
story1 repeated in secret by one player 
to the other1 comes out at the  end of  
the game1 owing to the inaccurate       
and--forgive me if ,i say               
it--uneducated brains through which it  
has passed1 utterly unlike its          
original2 not only ludicrously maimed   
and distorted1 but often with the  most 
fantastic additions of events1 details1 

names1 dates1 places1 which  each player
 will aver that he received from the    
player before him4  ,i am  afraid that  
too much of the average gossip of every 
city1 town1 and  village is little more 
than a game of ,russian ,scandal2 with  
this  difference1 that while one is but 
a game1 the other is but too            
mischievous earnest4    ,but now1 if    
among your party there shall be an      
average lawyer1 medical  man1 or man of 
science1 you will find that he1 and     
perhaps he alone1 will  be able to      
retail accurately the story which has   
been told him4  ,and why8  ,simply      
because his mind has been trained to    
deal with facts2 to ascertain  exactly  
what he does see or hear1 and to imprint
 its leading features  strongly and     
clearly on his memory4    ,now1 you     
certainly cannot make young ladies      
barristers or attorneys2 nor  employ    
their brains in getting up cases1 civil 
or criminal2 and as for  chemistry1 they
 and their parents may have a reasonable

 antipathy to  smells1 blackened        
fingers1 and occasional explosions and  
poisonings4  ,but  you may make them    
something of botanists1 zoologists1     
geologists4    ,i could say much on this
 point3 allow me at least to say this3  
,i verily  believe that any young lady  
who would employ some of her leisure    
time in  collecting wild flowers1       
carefully examining them1 verifying     
them1 and  arranging them2 or who would 
in her summer trip to the sea-coast do  
the  same by the common objects of the  
shore1 instead of wasting her holiday1  
as one sees hundreds doing1 in lounging 
on benches on the esplanade1  reading   
worthless novels1 and criticizing       
dresses--that such a young  lady1 ,i    
say1 would not only open her own mind to
 a world of wonder1  beauty1 and wisdom1
 which1 if it did not make her a more   
reverent and  pious soul1 she cannot be 
the woman which ,i take for granted she 
is2 but  would save herself from the    
habit--,i had almost said the           

necessity--of  gossip2 because she would
 have things to think of and not merely 
persons2  facts instead of fancies2     
while she would acquire something of    
accuracy1  of patience1 of methodical   
observation and judgment1 which would   
stand  her in good stead in the events  
of daily life1 and increase her power of
  bridling her tongue and her           
imagination4  ,god is in heaven1 and    
thou  upon earth2 therefore let thy     
words be few2 is the lesson which those 
are learning all day long who study the 
works of ,god with reverent  accuracy1  
lest by misrepresenting them they should
 be tempted to say that  ,god has done  
that which ,he has not2 and in that     
wholesome discipline ,i  long that women
 as well as men should share4    ,and   
now ,i come to a thrift of the highest  
kind1 as contrasted with a  waste the   
most deplorable and ruinous of all2     
thrift of those faculties  which connect
 us with the unseen and spiritual world2
 with humanity1 with  ,christ1 with     

,god2 thrift of the immortal spirit4  ,i
 am not going now to  give you a sermon 
on duty4  ,you hear such1 ,i doubt not1 
in church every  ,sunday1 far better    
than ,i can preach to you4  ,i am going 
to speak rather  of thrift of the heart1
 thrift of the emotions4  ,how they are 
wasted in  these days in reading what   
are called sensation novels1 all know   
but too  well2 how ,british             
literature--all that the best hearts and
 intellects  among our forefathers have 
bequeathed to us--is neglected for light
  fiction1 the reading of which is1 as a
 lady well said1 the worst form of      
intemperance--dram-drinking and         
opium-eating1 intellectual and moral4   
,i know that the young will             
delight--they have delighted in all     
ages1 and  will to the end of time--in  
fictions which deal with that oldest    
tale  which is for ever new4  ,novels   
will be read3 but that is all the more  
reason why women should be trained1 by  
the perusal of a higher1 broader1       

deeper literature1 to distinguish the   
good novel from the bad1 the moral  from
 the immoral1 the noble from the base1  
the true work of art from the  sham     
which hides its shallowness and         
vulgarity under a tangled plot and      
melodramatic situations4  ,she should   
learn--and that she can only learn  by  
cultivation--to discern with joy1 and   
drink in with reverence1 the  good1 the 
beautiful1 and the true2 and to turn    
with the fine scorn of a  pure and      
strong womanhood from the bad1 the ugly1
 and the false4    ,and if any parent   
should be inclined to reply--,why lay so
 much stress  upon educating a girl in  
,british literature8  ,is it not far    
more  important to make our daughters   
read religious books8  ,i answer--,of   
course it is4  ,i take for granted that 
that is done in a ,christian land4  ,but
 ,i beg you to recollect that there are 
books and books2 and that in  these days
 of a free press it is impossible1 in   
the long run1 to prevent  girls reading 

books of very different shades of       
opinion1 and very  different religious  
worth4  ,it may be1 therefore1 of the   
very highest  importance to a girl to   
have her intellect1 her taste1 her      
emotions1 her  moral sense1 in a word1  
her whole womanhood1 so cultivated and  
regulated  that she shall herself be    
able to discern the true from the false1
 the  orthodox from the unorthodox1 the 
truly devout from the merely            
sentimental1 the ,gospel from its       
counterfeits4    ,i should have thought 
that there never had been in ,britain1  
since the  ,reformation1 a crisis at    
which young ,englishwomen required more 
careful  cultivation on these matters2  
if at least they are to be saved from   
making themselves and their families    
miserable2 and from ending--as ,i  have 
known too many end--with broken hearts1 
broken brains1 broken  health1 and an   
early grave4    ,take warning by what   
you see abroad4  ,in every country where
 the women  are uneducated1 unoccupied2 

where their only literature is ,french  
novels  or translations of them--in     
every one of those countries the women1 
even  to the highest1 are the slaves of 
superstition1 and the puppets of        
priests4  ,in proportion as1 in certain 
other countries--notably1 ,i will  say1 
in ,scotland--the women are highly      
educated1 family life and family        
secrets are sacred1 and the woman owns  
allegiance and devotion to no  confessor
 or director1 but to her own husband or 
to her own family4    ,i say plainly1   
that if any parents wish their daughters
 to succumb at  last to some quackery or
 superstition1 whether calling itself   
scientific1  or calling itself          
religious--and there are too many of    
both just now--they  cannot more        
certainly effect their purpose than by  
allowing her to grow  up ignorant1      
frivolous1 luxurious1 vain2 with her    
emotions excited1 but  not satisfied1 by
 the reading of foolish and even immoral
 novels4    ,in such a case the more    

delicate and graceful the organization1 
the more  noble and earnest the nature1 
which has been neglected1 the more      
certain  it is--,i know too well what ,i
 am saying--to go astray4    ,the time  
of depression1 disappointment1 vacuity1 
all but despair1 must  come4  ,the      
immortal spirit1 finding no healthy     
satisfaction for its  highest           
aspirations1 is but too likely to betake
 itself to an unhealthy  and exciting   
superstition4  ,ashamed of its own long 
self-indulgence1 it  is but too likely  
to flee from itself into a morbid       
asceticism4  ,not  having been taught   
its ,god-given and natural duties in the
 world1 it is  but too likely to betake 
itself1 from the mere craving for       
action1 to  self-invented and unnatural 
duties out of the world4  ,ignorant of  
true  science1 yet craving to understand
 the wonders of nature and of spirit1   
it is but too likely to betake itself to
 nonscience--nonsense as it is  usually 
called--whether of spirit-rapping and   

mesmerism1 or of miraculous  relics and 
winking pictures4  ,longing for guidance
 and teaching1 and  never having been   
taught to guide and teach itself1 it is 
but too likely  to deliver itself up in 
self-despair to the guidance and        
teaching of  those who1 whether they be 
quacks or fanatics1 look on uneducated  
women  as their natural prey4    ,you   
will see1 ,i am sure1 from what ,i have 
said1 that it is not my wish  that you  
should become mere learned women2 mere  
female pedants1 as  useless and         
unpleasing as male pedants are wont to  
be4  ,the education  which ,i set before
 you is not to be got by mere hearing   
lectures or  reading books3 for it is an
 education of your whole character2 a   
self-  education2 which really means a  
committing of yourself to ,god1 that ,he
  may educate you4  ,hearing lectures is
 good1 for it will teach you how  much  
there is to be known1 and how little you
 know4  ,reading books is  good1 for it 
will give you habits of regular and     

diligent study4  ,and  therefore ,i urge
 on you strongly private study1         
especially in case a  library should be 
formed here of books on those most      
practical subjects  of which ,i have    
been speaking4  ,but1 after all1 both   
lectures and books  are good1 mainly in 
as far as they furnish matter for       
reflection3 while  the desire to reflect
 and the ability to reflect must come1  
as ,i believe1  from above4  ,the honest
 craving after light and power1 after   
knowledge1  wisdom1 active usefulness1  
must come--and may it come to you--by   
the  inspiration of the ,spirit of ,god4
    ,one word more1 and ,i have done4   
,let me ask women to educate themselves1
  not for their own sakes merely1 but   
for the sake of others4  ,for1 whether  
they will or not1 they must educate     
others4  ,i do not speak merely of      
those who may be engaged in the work of 
direct teaching2 that they ought  to be 
well taught themselves1 who can doubt8  
,i speak of those--and in so  doing ,i  

speak of every woman1 young and old--who
 exercises as wife1 as  mother1 as aunt1
 as sister1 or as friend1 an influence1 
indirect it may  be1 and unconscious1   
but still potent and practical1 on the  
minds and  characters of those about    
them1 especially of men4  ,how potent   
and  practical that influence is1 those 
know best who know most of the world    
and most of human nature4  ,there are   
those who consider--and ,i agree with   
them--that the education of boys under  
the age of twelve years ought to  be    
entrusted as much as possible to women4 
,let me ask--of what period of  youth   
and of manhood does not the same hold   
true8  ,i pity the ignorance  and       
conceit of the man who fancies that he  
has nothing left to learn from          
cultivated women4  ,i should have       
thought that the very mission of woman  
was to be1 in the highest sense1 the    
educator of man from infancy to old     
age2 that that was the work towards     
which all the ,god-given capacities of  

women pointed2 for which they were to be
 educated to the highest pitch4  ,i     
should have thought that it was the     
glory of woman that she was sent into   
the world to live for others1 rather    
than for herself2 and therefore ,i      
should say--,let her smallest rights be 
respected1 her smallest wrongs          
redressed3 but let her never be         
persuaded to forget that she is sent    
into  the world to teach man--what1 ,i  
believe1 she has been teaching him all  
along1 even in the savage state--namely1
 that there is something more  necessary
 than the claiming of rights1 and that  
is1 the performing of  duties2 to teach 
him specially1 in these so-called       
intellectual days1  that there is       
something more than intellect1 and that 
is--purity and  virtue4  ,let her never 
be persuaded to forget that her calling 
is not the  lower and more earthly one  
of self-assertion1 but the higher and   
the  diviner calling of self-sacrifice2 
and let her never desert that higher    

life1 which lives in others and for     
others1 like her ,redeemer and her      
,lord4    ,and if any should answer that
 this doctrine would keep woman a       
dependant  and a slave1 ,i rejoin--,not 
so3 it would keep her what she should   
be--the  mistress of all around her1    
because mistress of herself4  ,and more1
 ,i  should express a fear that those   
who made that answer had not yet seen   
into the mystery of true greatness and  
true strength2 that they did not  yet   
understand the true magnanimity1 the    
true royalty of that spirit1 by  which  
the ,son of man came not to be          
ministered unto1 but to minister1 and   
to give ,his life a ransom for many4    
,surely that is woman's calling--to     
teach man3 and to teach him what8  ,to  
teach him1 after all1 that his calling  
is the same as hers1 if he will  but see
 the things which belong to his peace4  
,to temper his fiercer1  coarser1 more  
self-assertive nature1 by the contact of
 her gentleness1  purity1               

self-sacrifice4  ,to make him see that  
not by blare of trumpets1  not by noise1
 wrath1 greed1 ambition1 intrigue1      
puffery1 is good and  lasting work to be
 done on earth3 but by wise             
self-distrust1 by silent  labour1 by    
lofty self-control1 by that charity     
which hopeth all things1  believeth all 
things1 endureth all things2 by such an 
example1 in short1  as women now in tens
 of thousands set to those around them2 
such as they  will show more and more1  
the more their whole womanhood is       
educated to  employ its powers without  
waste and without haste in harmonious   
unity4  ,let the woman begin in         
girlhood1 if such be her happy lot--to  
quote the  words of a great poet1 a     
great philosopher1 and a great          
,churchman1  ,william ,wordsworth--let  
her begin1 ,i say--       ,with all     
things round about her drawn     ,from  
,may-time and the cheerful dawn2     ,a 
dancing shape1 an image gay1     ,to    
haunt1 to startle1 and waylay4    ,let  

her develop onwards--       ,a spirit1  
yet a woman too1     ,with household    
motions light and free1     ,and steps  
of virgin liberty4     ,a countenance in
 which shall meet     ,sweet records1   
promises as sweet2     ,a creature not  
too bright and good     ,for human      
nature's daily food2     ,for transient 
sorrows1 simple wiles1     ,praise1     
blame1 love1 kisses1 tears1 and smiles4 
,but let her highest and her final      
development be that which not nature1   
but self-education alone can bring--that
 which makes her once and for  ever--   
,a being breathing thoughtful breath2   
,a traveller betwixt life and death4    
,with reason firm1 with temperate will1 
,endurance1 foresight1 strength and     
skill4     ,a perfect woman1 nobly      
planned1     ,to warn1 to comfort and   
command4     ,and yet a spirit still and
 bright     ,with something of an angel 
light4          ,,the ,,study ,,of      
,,natural ,,history4  ,a ,,lecture      
,,delivered ,,to ,,the ,,officers ,,of  

,,the ,,royal ,,artillery1 ,,woolwich4  
,gentlemen3--,when ,i accepted the      
honour of lecturing here1 ,i took for   
granted that so select an audience would
 expect from me not mere  amusement1 but
 somewhat of instruction2 or1 if that be
 too ambitious a  word for me to use1 at
 least some fresh hint--if ,i were able 
to give  one--as to how they should     
fulfil the ideal of military men in such
 an  age as this4    ,to touch on       
military matters1 even had ,i been      
conversant with them1  seemed to me an  
impertinence4  ,i am bound to take for  
granted that every  man knows his own   
business best2 and ,i incline more and  
more to the  opinion that military men  
should be left to work out the problems 
of  their art for themselves1 without   
the advice or criticism of civilians4   
,but ,i hold--and ,i am sure that you   
will agree with me--that if the  soldier
 is to be thus trusted by the nation1   
and left to himself to do  his own work 
his own way1 he must be educated in all 

practical matters as  highly as the     
average of educated civilians4  ,he must
 know all that they  know1 and his own  
art beside4  ,just as a clergyman1 being
 a man plus a  priest1 is bound to be a 
man1 and a good man1 over and above his 
priesthood1 so is the soldier bound to  
be a civilian1 and a  highly-educated   
civilian1 plus his soldierly qualities  
and acquirements4    ,it seemed to me1  
therefore1 that ,i might1 without       
impertinence1 ask you  to consider a    
branch of knowledge which is becoming   
yearly more and more  important in the  
eyes of well-educated civilians2 of     
which1 therefore1  the soldier ought at 
least to know something1 in order to put
 him on a  par with the general         
intelligence of the nation4  ,i do not  
say that he is  to devote much time to  
it1 or to follow it up into             
specialities3 but that  he ought to be  
well grounded in its principles and     
methods2 that he ought  to be aware of  
its importance and its usefulness2 that 

so1 if he comes  into contact--as he    
will more and more--with scientific men1
 he may  understand them1 respect them1 
befriend them1 and be befriended by them
  in turn2 and how desirable this last  
result is1 ,i shall tell you  hereafter4
    ,there are those1 ,i doubt not1     
among my audience who do not need the   
advice which ,i shall presume to give   
to-night2 who belong to that fast       
increasing class among officers of whom 
,i have often said--and ,i have  found  
scientific men cordially agree with     
me--that they are the most  modest and  
the most teachable of men4  ,but even in
 their case there can  be no harm in    
going over deliberately a question of   
such importance2 in  putting it1 as it  
were1 into shape2 and insisting on      
arguments which may  perhaps not have   
occurred to some of them4    ,let me1 in
 the first place1 reassure those--if any
 such there be--who may  suppose1 from  
the title of my lecture1 that ,i am only
 going to recommend  them to collect    

weeds and butterflies1 rats and mice1   
and such small  deer4  ,far from it4    
,the honourable title of ,natural       
,history has1 and  unwisely1 been       
restricted too much of late years to the
 mere study of  plants and animals4  ,i 
desire to restore the words to their    
original and  proper meaning--the       
,history of ,nature2 that is1 of all    
that is born1 and  grows in time2 in    
short1 of all natural objects4    ,if   
anyone shall say--,by that definition   
you make not only geology and  chemistry
 branches of natural history1 but       
meteorology and astronomy  likewise--,i 
cannot deny it4  ,they deal1 each of    
them1 with realms of  ,nature4  ,geology
 is1 literally1 the natural history of  
soils and lands2  chemistry the natural 
history of compounds1 organic and       
inorganic2  meteorology the natural     
history of climates2 astronomy the      
natural  history of planetary and solar 
bodies4  ,and more1 you cannot now study
  deeply any branch of what is popularly

 called ,natural ,history--that is1     
plants and animals--without finding it  
necessary to learn something1 and  more 
and more as you go deeper1 of those very
 sciences4  ,as the  marvellous         
interdependence of all natural objects  
and forces unfolds  itself more and     
more1 so the once separate sciences1    
which treated of  different classes of  
natural objects1 are forced to          
interpenetrate1 as it  were2 and to     
supplement themselves by knowledge      
borrowed from each other4  ,thus--to    
give a single instance--no man can now  
be a first-rate botanist  unless he be  
also no mean meteorologist1 no mean     
geologist1 and--as ,mr4  ,darwin has    
shown in his extraordinary discoveries  
about the fertilisation  of plants by   
insects--no mean entomologist likewise4 
,it is difficult1 therefore1 and indeed 
somewhat unwise and unfair1 to put  any 
limit to the term ,natural ,history1    
save that it shall deal only with       
nature and with matter2 and shall not   

pretend--as some would have it to  do   
just now--to go out of its own sphere to
 meddle with moral and  spiritual       
matters4  ,but1 for practical purposes1 
we may define the  natural history of   
any given spot as the history of the    
causes which have  made it what it is1  
and filled it with the natural objects  
which it  holds4  ,and if anyone would  
know how to study the natural history of
 a  place1 and how to write it1 let him 
read--and if he has read its  delightful
 pages in youth1 read once again--that  
hitherto unrivalled  little monograph1  
,white's ',natural ,history of          
,selborne2' and let him then  try1 by   
the light of improved science1 to do for
 any district where he  may be          
stationed1 what ,white did for ,selborne
 nearly one hundred years  ago4  ,let   
him study its plants1 its animals1 its  
soils and rocks2 and  last1 but not     
least1 its scenery1 as the total outcome
 of what the soils1  and plants1 and    
animals have made it4  ,i say1 have made

 it4  ,how far the  nature of the soils 
and the rocks will affect the scenery of
 a district  may be well learnt from a  
very clever and interesting little book 
of  ,professor ,geikie's1 on ',the      
,scenery of ,scotland1 as affected by   
its  ,geological ,structure4'  ,how far 
the plants and trees affect not merely  
the general beauty1 the richness or     
barrenness of a country1 but also its   
very shape2 the rate at which the hills 
are destroyed and washed into the       
lowland2 the rate at which the seaboard 
is being removed by the action of       
waves--all these are branches of study  
which is becoming more and more         
important4    ,and even in the study of 
animals and their effects on the        
vegetation1  questions of really deep   
interest will arise4  ,you will find    
that certain  plants and trees cannot   
thrive in a district1 while others can1 
because  the former are browsed down by 
cattle1 or their seeds eaten by birds1  
and  the latter are not2 that certain   

seeds are carried in the coats of       
animals1 or wafted abroad by            
winds--others are not2 certain trees    
destroyed wholesale by insects1 while   
others are not2 that in a hundred  ways 
the animal and vegetable life of a      
district act and react upon each  other1
 and that the climate1 the average      
temperature1 the maximum and  minimum   
temperatures1 the rainfall1 act on them1
 and in the case of the  vegetation1 are
 reacted on again by them4  ,the        
diminution of rainfall by  the          
destruction of forests1 its increase by 
replanting them1 and the  effect of both
 on the healthiness or unhealthiness of 
a place--as in the  case of the         
,mauritius1 where a once healthy island 
has become  pestilential1 seemingly from
 the clearing away of the vegetation on 
the  banks of streams--all this1 though 
to study it deeply requires a fair      
knowledge of meteorology1 and even of a 
science or two more1 is surely  well    
worth the attention of any educated man 

who is put in charge of the  health and 
lives of human beings4    ,you will     
surely agree with me that the habit of  
mind required for such a  study as this1
 is the very same as is required for    
successful military  study4  ,in fact1  
,i should say that the same intellect   
which would develop  into a great       
military man1 would develop also into a 
great naturalist4  ,i  say1 intellect4  
,the military man would require--what   
the naturalist  would not--over and     
above his intellect1 a special force of 
will1 in  order to translate his        
theories into fact1 and make his        
campaigns in the  field and not merely  
on paper4  ,but ,i am speaking only of  
the habit of  mind required for study2  
of that inductive habit of mind which   
works1  steadily and by rule1 from the  
known to the unknown2 that habit of mind
  of which it has been said3--,the habit
 of seeing2 the habit of knowing  what  
we see2 the habit of discerning         
differences and likenesses2 the  habit  

of classifying accordingly2 the habit of
 searching for hypotheses  which shall  
connect and explain those classified    
facts2 the habit of  verifying these    
hypotheses by applying them to fresh    
facts2 the habit of  throwing them away 
bravely if they will not fit2 the habit 
of general  patience1 diligence1        
accuracy1 reverence for facts for their 
own sake1  and love of truth for its own
 sake2 in one word1 the habit of        
reverent  and implicit obedience to the 
laws of ,nature1 whatever they may      
be--these  are not merely intellectual1 
but also moral habits1 which will stand 
men  in practical good stead in every   
affair of life1 and in every question1  
even the most awful1 which may come     
before them as rational and social      
beings4  ,and specially valuable are    
they1 surely1 to the military man1  the 
very essence of whose study1 to be      
successful1 lies first in  continuous   
and accurate observation1 and then in   
calm and judicious  arrangement4        

,therefore it is that ,i hold1 and hold 
strongly1 that the study of  physical   
science1 far from interfering with an   
officer's studies1 much  less unfitting 
for them1 must assist him in them1 by   
keeping his mind  always in the very    
attitude and the very temper which they 
require4  ,if  any smile at this theory 
of mine1 let them recollect one curious 
fact3  that perhaps the greatest captain
 of the old world was trained by perhaps
  the greatest philosopher of the old   
world--the father of ,natural ,history2 
that ,aristotle was the tutor of        
,alexander of ,macedon4  ,i do not      
fancy1 of  course1 that ,aristotle      
taught ,alexander any ,natural ,history4
  ,but this we  know1 that he taught him
 to use those very faculties by which   
,aristotle  became a natural historian1 
and many things beside2 that he called  
out in  his pupil somewhat of his own   
extraordinary powers of observation1    
extraordinary powers of arrangement4    
,he helped to make him a great  general3

 but he helped to make him more--a great
 politician1 coloniser1  discoverer4    
,he instilled into him such a sense of  
the importance of  ,natural ,history1   
that ,alexander helped him nobly in his 
researches2 and1  if ,athenaeus is to be
 believed1 gave him #hjj talents towards
 perfecting  his history of animals4    
,surely it is not too much to say that  
this close  friendship between the      
natural philosopher and the soldier has 
changed  the whole course of            
civilisation to this very day4  ,do not 
consider me  ,utopian when ,i tell you1 
that ,i should like to see the study of 
physical  science an integral part of   
the curriculum of every military school4
  ,i  would train the mind of the lad   
who was to become hereafter an officer  
in  the army--and in the navy like      
wise--by accustoming him to careful     
observation of1 and sound thought about1
 the face of nature2 of the  commonest  
objects under his feet1 just as much as 
of the stars above his  head2 provided  

always that he learnt1 not at           
second-hand from books1 but  where alone
 he can really learn either war or      
nature--in the field2 by  actual        
observation1 actual experiment4  ,a     
laboratory for chemical  experiment is a
 good thing1 it is true1 as far as it   
goes2 but ,i should  prefer to the      
laboratory a naturalists' field club1   
such as are  prospering now at several  
of the best public schools1 certain that
 the  boys would get more of sound      
inductive habits of mind1 as well as    
more  health1 manliness1 and            
cheerfulness1 amid scenes to remember   
which will  be a joy for ever1 than they
 ever can by bending over retorts and   
crucibles1 amid smells even to remember 
which is a pain for ever4    ,but ,i    
would1 whether a field club existed or  
not1 require of every young  man        
entering the army or navy--indeed of    
every young man entering any  liberal   
profession whatsoever--a fair knowledge1
 such as would enable him  to pass an   

examination1 in what the ,germans call  
,erd-kunde--earth-lore--in that         
knowledge of the face of the earth and  
of its products1 for which we ,english  
have as yet cared so little that we     
have actually no ,english name for it1  
save the clumsy and questionable  one of
 physical geography2 and1 ,i am sorry to
 say1 hardly any readable  school books 
about it1 save ,keith ,johnston's       
',physical ,atlas'--an  acquaintance    
with which last ,i should certainly     
require of young men4    ,it does seem  
most strange--or rather will seem most  
strange #ajj years  hence--that we1 the 
nation of colonists1 the nation of      
sailors1 the  nation of foreign         
commerce1 the nation of foreign military
 stations1 the  nation of travellers for
 travelling's sake1 the nation of which 
one man  here and another there--as     
,schleiden sets forth in his book1 ',the
 ,plant1'  in a charming ideal          
conversation at the ,travellers'        
,club--has seen and  enjoyed more of the

 wonders and beauties of this planet    
than the men of  any nation1 not even   
excepting the ,germans--that this       
nation1 ,i say1  should as yet have done
 nothing1 or all but nothing1 to teach  
in her  schools a knowledge of that     
planet1 of which she needs to know more1
 and  can if she will know more1 than   
any other nation upon it4    ,as for the
 practical utility of such studies to a 
soldier1 ,i only need1 ,i  trust1 to    
hint at it to such an assembly as this4 
,all must see of what  advantage a rough
 knowledge of the botany of a district  
would be to an  officer leading an      
exploring party1 or engaged in bush     
warfare4  ,to know  what plants are     
poisonous2 what plants1 too1 are        
eatable--and many more  are eatable than
 is usually supposed2 what plants yield 
oleaginous  substances1 whether for food
 or for other uses2 what plants yield   
vegetable acids1 as preventives of      
scurvy2 what timbers are available for  
each of many different purposes2 what   

will resist wet1 salt-water1 and  the   
attacks of insects2 what1 again1 can be 
used1 at a pinch1 for  medicine or for  
styptics--and be sure1 as a wise ,west  
,indian doctor once  said to me1 that   
there is more good medicine wild in the 
bush than there  is in all the          
druggists' shops--surely all this is a  
knowledge not  beneath the notice of any
 enterprising officer1 above all of an  
officer  of engineers4  ,i only ask     
anyone who thinks that ,i may be in the 
right1  to glance through the lists of  
useful vegetable products given in      
,lindley's ',vegetable ,kingdom'--a     
miracle of learning--and see the vast   
field open still to a thoughtful and    
observant man1 even while on  service2  
and not to forget that such knowledge1  
if he should hereafter  leave the       
service and settle1 as many do1 in a    
distant land1 may be a  solid help to   
his future prosperity4  ,so strongly do 
,i feel on this  matter1 that ,i should 
like to see some knowledge at least of  

,dr4 ,oliver's  excellent little ',first
 ,book of ,indian ,botany' required of  
all officers  going to our ,indian      
,empire3 but as that will not be1 at    
least for many a  year to come1 ,i      
recommend any gentlemen going to ,india 
to get that book1  and wile away the    
hours of the outward voyage by acquiring
 knowledge  which will be a continual   
source of interest1 and it may be now   
and then  of profit1 to them during     
their stay abroad4    ,and for geology1 
again4  ,as ,i do not expect you all1 or
 perhaps any of  you1 to become such    
botanists as ,general ,monro1 whose     
recent ',monograph  of the ,bamboos' is 
an honour to ,british botanists1 and a  
proof of the  scientific power which is 
to be found here and there among        
,british  officers3 so ,i do not expect 
you to become such geologists as ,sir   
,roderick ,murchison1 or even to add    
such a grand chapter to the history of  
extinct animals as ,major ,cautley did  
by his discoveries in the ,sewalik      

,hills4  ,nevertheless1 you can         
learn--and ,i should earnestly advise   
you to  learn--geology and mineralogy   
enough to be of great use to you in your
  profession1 and of use1 too1 should   
you relinquish your profession          
hereafter4  ,it must be profitable for  
any man1 and specially for you1 to  know
 how and where to find good limestone1  
building stone1 road metal2 it  must be 
good to be able to distinguish ores and 
mineral products2 it must  be good to   
know--as a geologist will usually know1 
even in a country  which he sees for the
 first time--where water is likely to be
 found1 and  at what probable depth2 it 
must be good to know whether the water  
is fit  for drinking or not1 whether it 
is unwholesome or merely muddy2 it must 
be good to know what spots are likely to
 be healthy1 and what unhealthy1  for   
encamping4  ,the two last questions     
depend1 doubtless1 on  meteorological as
 well as geological accidents3 but the  
answers to them  will be most surely    

found out by the scientific man1 because
 the facts  connected with them are1    
like all other facts1 determined by     
natural  laws4  ,after what one has     
heard1 in past years1 of barracks built 
in  spots plainly pestilential2 of      
soldiers encamped in ruined cities1     
reeking with the dirt and poison of     
centuries2 of--but it is not my place   
to find fault2 all ,i will say is1 that 
the wise and humane officer1 when  once 
his eyes are opened to the practical    
value of physical science1 will  surely 
try to acquaint himself somewhat with   
those laws of drainage and  of climate1 
geological1 meteorological1 chemical1   
which influence1 often  with terrible   
suddenness and fury1 the health of whole
 armies4  ,he will  not find it beyond  
his province to ascertain the amount and
 period of  rainfalls1 the maxima of    
heat and of cold which his troops may   
have to  endure1 and many another point 
on which their health and               
efficiency--nay1  their very life may   

depend1 but which are now too           
exclusively delegated  to the doctor1 to
 whose province they do not really      
belong4  ,for cure1 ,i  take the liberty
 of believing1 is the duty of the       
medical officer2  prevention1 that of   
the military4    ,thus much ,i can say  
just now--and there is much more to be  
said--on the  practical uses of the     
study of ,natural ,history4  ,but let me
 remind you1  on the other side1 if     
,natural ,history will help you1 you in 
return can  help her2 and would1 ,i     
doubt not1 help her1 and help scientific
 men at  home1 if once you looked fairly
 and steadily at the immense importance 
of  ,natural ,history--of the knowledge 
of the face of the earth4  ,i believe   
that all will one day feel1 more or     
less1 that to know the earth on  which  
we live1 and the laws of it by which we 
live1 is a sacred duty to  ourselves1 to
 our children after us1 and to all whom 
we may have to  command and to          
influence2 aye1 and a duty to ,god      

likewise4  ,for is it not  a duty of    
common reverence and faith towards ,him1
 if ,he has put us into a  beautiful and
 wonderful place1 and given us faculties
 by which we can  see1 and enjoy1 and   
use that place--is it not a duty of     
reverence and  faith towards ,him to use
 these faculties1 and to learn the      
lessons which  ,he has laid open for us8
  ,if you feel that1 as ,i think you all
 will some  day feel1 then you will     
surely feel likewise that it will be a  
good  deed--,i do not say a necessary   
duty1 but still a good deed and         
praiseworthy--to help physical science  
forward2 and to add your  contributions1
 however small1 to our general knowledge
 of the earth4  ,and  how much may be   
done for science by ,british officers1  
especially on  foreign stations1 ,i need
 not point out4  ,i know that much has  
been done1  chivalrously and well1 by   
officers2 and that men of science owe   
them1 and  give them1 hearty thanks for 
their labours4  ,but ,i should like1 ,i 

confess1 to see more done still4  ,i    
should like to see every foreign        
station1 what one or two highly-educated
 officers might easily make it1  an     
advanced post of physical science1 in   
regular communication with our          
scientific societies at home1 sending to
 them accurate and methodic  details of 
the natural history of each             
district--details #ii_/ajjths of  which 
might seem worthless in the eyes of the 
public1 but which would all  be precious
 in the eyes of scientific men1 who know
 that no fact is  really unimportant2   
and more1 that while plodding patiently 
through  seemingly unimportant facts1   
you may stumble on one of infinite      
importance1 both scientific and         
practical4  ,for the student of nature1 
gentlemen1 if he will be but patient1   
diligent1 methodical1 is liable at  any 
moment to the same good fortune as befel
 ,saul of old1 when he went  out to seek
 his father's asses1 and found a        
kingdom4    ,there are those1 lastly1   

who have neither time nor taste for the 
technicalities1 and nice distinctions1  
of formal ,natural ,history2 who  enjoy 
,nature1 but as artists or as sportsmen1
 and not as men of science4  ,let them  
follow their bent freely3 but let them  
not suppose that in  following it they  
can do nothing towards enlarging our    
knowledge of  ,nature1 especially when  
on foreign stations4  ,so far from it1  
drawings  ought always to be valuable1  
whether of plants1 animals1 or scenery1 
provided only they are accurate2 and the
 more spirited and full of genius  they 
are1 the more accurate they are certain 
to be2 for ,nature being  alive1 a      
lifeless copy of her is necessarily an  
untrue copy4  ,most  thankful to any    
officer for a mere sight of sketches    
will be the closet  botanist1 who1 to   
his own sorrow1 knows three-fourths of  
his plants only  from dried specimens2  
or the closet zoologist1 who knows his  
animals from  skins and bones4  ,and if 
anyone answers--,but ,i cannot draw4  ,i

 rejoin1  ,you can at least photograph4 
,if a young officer1 going out to       
foreign  parts1 and knowing nothing at  
all about physical science1 did me the  
honour to ask me what he could do for   
science1 ,i should tell him--,learn  to 
photograph2 take photographs of every   
strange bit of rock-formation  which    
strikes your fancy1 and of every widely 
extended view which may  give a notion  
of the general lie of the country4      
,append1 if you can1 a  note or two1    
saying whether a plain is rich or       
barren2 whether the rock  is sandstone1 
limestone1 granitic1 metamorphic1 or    
volcanic lava2 and if  there be more    
rocks than one1 which of them lies on   
the other2 and send  them to be         
exhibited at a meeting of the           
,geological ,society4  ,i doubt not     
that the learned gentlemen there will   
find in your photographs a valuable     
hint or two1 for which they will be much
 obliged4  ,i learnt1 for  instance1    
what seemed to me most valuable         

geological lessons1 from mere  glances  
at drawings--,i believe from            
photographs--of the ,abyssinian ranges  
about ,magdala4    ,or again1 let a man1
 if he knows nothing of botany1 not     
trouble himself  with collecting and    
drying specimens2 let him simply        
photograph every  strange and new tree  
or plant he sees1 to give a general     
notion of its  species1 its look2 let   
him append1 where he can1 a photograph  
of its  leafage1 flower1 fruit2 and send
 them to ,dr4 ,hooker1 or any           
distinguished  botanist3 and he will    
find that1 though he may know nothing of
 botany1 he  will have pretty certainly 
increased the knowledge of those who do 
know4    ,the sportsman1 again--,i mean 
the sportsman of that type which seems  
peculiar to these islands1 who loves    
toil and danger for their own sakes2  he
 surely is a naturalist1 ipso facto1    
though he knows it not4  ,he has  those 
very habits of keen observation on which
 all sound knowledge of  nature is      

based2 and he1 if he will--as he may do 
without interfering  with his sport--can
 study the habits of the animals among  
whom he spends  wholesome and exciting  
days4  ,you have only to look over such 
good old  books as ,williams's ',wild   
,sports of the ,east1' ,campbell's ',old
 ,forest  ,ranger1' ,lloyd's            
',scandinavian ,adventures1' and last1  
but not least1  ,waterton's             
',wanderings1' to see what valuable     
additions to true  zoology--the         
knowledge of live creatures1 not merely 
dead ones--,british  sportsmen have     
made1 and still can make4  ,and as for  
the employment of  time1 which often    
hangs so heavily on a soldier's hands1  
really ,i am  ready to say1 if you are  
neither men of science1 nor draughtsmen1
 nor  sportsmen1 why go and collect     
beetles4  ,it is not very dignified1 ,i 
know1  nor exciting3 but it will be     
something to do4  ,it cannot harm you1  
if you  take1 as beetle-hunters do1 an  
india-rubber sheet to lie on2 and it    

will  certainly benefit science4        
,moreover1 there will be a noble        
humility in  the act4  ,you will confess
 to the public that you consider        
yourself only  fit to catch beetles2 by 
which very confession you will prove    
yourself  fit for much finer things than
 catching beetles3 and meanwhile1 as ,i 
said  before1 you will be at least out  
of harm's way4  ,at a foreign barrack   
once1 the happiest officer ,i met1      
because the most regularly employed1    
was one who spent his time in collecting
 butterflies4  ,he knew nothing  about  
them scientifically--not even their     
names4  ,he took them simply for  their 
wonderful beauty and variety2 and in the
 hope1 too--in which he was  really     
scientific--that if he carefully kept   
every form which he saw1 his  collection
 might be of use some day to            
entomologists at home4  ,a most         
pleasant gentleman he was2 and1 ,i doubt
 not1 none the worse soldier for  his   
butterfly catching4  ,commendable1 also1

 in my eyes1 was another  officer--whom 
,i have not the pleasure of             
knowing--who1 on a remote  foreign      
station1 used wisely to escape from the 
temptations of the world  into an       
entirely original and most pleasant     
hermitage4  ,for finding--so  the story 
went--that many of the finest insects   
kept to the tree-tops1  and never came  
to ground at all1 he used to settle     
himself among the  boughs of some tree  
in the tropic forests1 with a           
long-handled net and  plenty of cigars1 
and pass his hours in that airy flower  
garden1 making  dashes every now and    
then at some splendid monster as it     
fluttered round  his head4  ,his example
 need not be followed by everyone2 but  
it must be  allowed that--at least as   
long as he was in his tree--he was      
neither  dawdling1 grumbling1 spending  
money1 nor otherwise harming himself1   
and  perhaps his fellow creatures1 from 
sheer want of employment4    ,one word  
more1 and ,i have done4  ,if ,i was     

allowed to give one special  piece of   
advice to a young officer1 whether of   
the army or navy1 ,i would              
say--,respect scientific men2 associate 
with them2 learn from them2 find  them  
to be1 as you will usually1 the most    
pleasant and instructive of  companions3
 but always respect them4  ,allow them  
chivalrously1 you who  have an          
acknowledged rank1 their yet            
unacknowledged rank2 and treat them  as 
all the world will treat them1 in a     
higher and truer state of  civilisation4
  ,they do not yet wear the ,queen's    
uniform2 they are not yet  accepted     
servants of the ,state2 as they will be 
in some more perfectly  organised and   
civilised land3 but they are soldiers   
nevertheless1 and  good soldiers and    
chivalrous1 fighting their nation's     
battle1 often on  even less pay than    
you1--and with still less chance of     
promotion and of  fame1 against most    
real and fatal enemies--against         
ignorance of the laws  of this planet1  

and all the miseries which that         
ignorance begets4  ,honour  them for    
their work2 sympathise in it2 give them 
a helping hand in it  whenever you have 
an opportunity--and what opportunities  
you have1 ,i have  been trying to sketch
 for you to-night2 and more1 work at it 
yourselves  whenever and wherever you   
can4  ,show them that the spirit which  
animates  them--the hatred of ignorance 
and disorder1 and of their bestial      
consequences--animates you likewise2    
show them that the habit of mind  which 
they value in themselves--the habit of  
accurate observation and  careful       
judgment--is your habit likewise2 show  
them that you value  science1 not merely
 because it gives better weapons of     
destruction and of  defence1 but because
 it helps you to become clear-headed1   
large-minded1  able to take a just and  
accurate view of any subject which comes
 before  you1 and to cast away every old
 prejudice and every hasty judgment in  
the  face of truth and of duty3 and it  

will be better for you and for them4    
,but why8  ,what need for the soldier   
and the man of science to fraternise    
just now8  ,this need3--,the two classes
 which will have an increasing1 it  may 
be a preponderating1 influence on the   
fate of the human race for some  time1  
will be the pupils of ,aristotle and    
those of ,alexander--the men of  science
 and the soldiers4  ,in spite of all    
appearances1 and all  declamations to   
the contrary1 that is my firm           
conviction4  ,they1 and they  alone1    
will be left to rule2 because they      
alone1 each in his own sphere1  have    
learnt to obey4  ,it is therefore most  
needful for the welfare of  society that
 they should pull with1 and not against 
each other2 that they  should understand
 each other1 respect each other1 take   
counsel with each  other1 supplement    
each other's defects1 bring out each    
other's higher  tendencies1 counteract  
each other's lower ones4  ,the          
scientific man has  something to learn  

of you1 gentlemen1 which ,i doubt not   
that he will  learn in good time4  ,you1
 again1 have--as ,i have been hinting to
 you to-  night--something to learn of  
him1 which you1 ,i doubt not1 will learn
 in  good time likewise4  ,repeat1 each 
of you according to his powers1 the old 
friendship between ,aristotle and       
,alexander2 and so1 from the sympathy   
and  co-operation of you two1 a class of
 thinkers and actors may yet arise      
which can save this nation1 and the     
other civilised nations of the world1   
from that of which ,i had rather not    
speak2 and wish that ,i did not think1  
too often and too earnestly4    ,i may  
be a dreamer3 and ,i may consider1 in my
 turn1 as wilder dreamers  than myself1 
certain persons who fancy that their    
only business in life  is to make money1
 the scientific man's only business is  
to show them how  to make money1 and the
 soldier's only business to guard their 
money for  them4  ,be that as it may1   
the finest type of civilised man which  

we are  likely to see for some          
generations to come1 will be produced by
 a  combination of the truly military   
with the truly scientific man4  ,i      
say--,i  may be a dreamer3 but you at   
least1 as well as my scientific friends1
  will bear with me2 for my dream is to 
your honour4          ,,on              
,,bio-,,geology4  ,,an ,,address ,,given
 ,,to ,,the ,,scientific ,,society ,,of 
,,winchester4      ,i am not sure that  
the subject of my address is rightly    
chosen4  ,i am not  sure that ,i ought  
not to have postponed a question of mere
 natural  history1 to speak to you1 as  
scientific men1 on the questions of life
 and  death1 which have been forced upon
 us by the awful warning of an          
illustrious personage's illness2 of     
preventible disease1 its frightful      
prevalency2 of the #bjj1jjj persons who 
are said to have died of fever  alone   
since the ,prince ,consort's death1 ten 
years ago2 of the remedies2  of         
drainage2 of sewage disinfection and    

utilisation2 and of the  assistance     
which you1 as a body of scientific men1 
can give to any effort  towards saving  
the lives and health of our             
fellow-citizens from those  unseen      
poisons which lurk like wild beasts     
couched in the jungle1 ready  to spring 
at any moment on the unsuspecting1 the  
innocent1 the helpless4  ,of all this ,i
 longed to speak3 but ,i thought it best
 only to hint at it1  and leave the     
question to your common sense and your  
humanity2 taking for  granted that your 
minds1 like the minds of all            
right-minded ,englishmen1  have been of 
late painfully awakened to its          
importance4  ,it seemed to me  almost an
 impertinence to say more in a city of  
whose local circumstances  ,i know      
little or nothing4  ,as an old sanitary 
reformer1 practical1 as  well as        
theoretical1 ,i am but too well aware of
 the difficulties which  beset any      
complete scheme of drainage1 especially 
in an ancient city like  this2 where men

 are paying the penalty of their        
predecessors' ignorance2  and dwelling1 
whether they choose or not1 over fifteen
 centuries of  accumulated dirt4        
,and1 therefore1 taking for granted that
 there is energy and intellect  enough  
in ,winchester to conquer these         
difficulties in due time1 ,i go on  to  
ask you to consider1 for a time1 a      
subject which is growing more and  more 
important and interesting1 a subject the
 study of which will do much  towards   
raising the field naturalist from a mere
 collector of  specimens--as he was     
twenty years ago--to a philosopher      
elucidating some  of the grandest       
problems4  ,i mean the infant science of
 ,bio-geology--the  science which treats
 of the distribution of plants and      
animals over the  globe1 and the causes 
of that distribution4    ,i doubt not   
that there are many here who know far   
more about the subject  than ,i2 who are
 far better read than ,i am in the works
 of ,forbes1 ,darwin1  ,wallace1        

,hooker1 ,moritz ,wagner1 and the other 
illustrious men who have  written on it4
  ,but ,i may1 perhaps1 give a few hints
 which will be of use  to the younger   
members of this ,society1 and will point
 out to them how to  get a new relish   
for the pursuit of field science4       
,bio-geology1 then1 begins with asking  
every plant or animal you meet1  large  
or small1 not merely--,what is your     
name8  ,that is the collector and       
classifier's duty2 and a most necessary 
duty it is1 and one to be  performed    
with the most conscientious patience and
 accuracy1 so that a  sound foundation  
may be built for future speculations4   
,but young  naturalists should act not  
merely as ,nature's registrars and      
census-takers1 but as her policemen and 
gamekeepers2 and ask everything  they   
meet--,how did you get here8  ,by what  
road did you come8  ,what was  your last
 place of abode8  ,and now you are here1
 how do you get your  living8  ,are you 
and your children thriving1 like decent 

people who can  take care of themselves1
 or growing pauperised and degraded1 and
 dying  out8  ,not that we have a fear  
of your becoming a dangerous class4     
,madam  ,nature allows no dangerous     
classes1 in the modern sense4  ,she has1
  doubtless for some wise reason1 no    
mercy for the weak4  ,she rewards each  
organism according to its works2 and if 
anything grows too weak or stupid  to   
take care of itself1 she gives it its   
due deserts by letting it die  and      
disappear4  ,so1 you plant or you       
animal1 are you among the strong1  the  
successful1 the multiplying1 the        
colonising8  ,or are you among the      
weak1 the failing1 the dwindling1 the   
doomed8    ,these questions may seem    
somewhat rude3 but you may comfort      
yourself by  the thought that plants and
 animals1 though they deserve all       
kindness1  all admiration1 deserve no   
courtesy--at least in this respect4     
,for they  are1 one and all1 wherever   
you find them1 vagrants and landloupers1

  intruders and conquerors1 who have got
 where they happen to be simply by  the 
law of the strongest--generally not     
without a little robbery and  murder4   
,they have no right save that of        
possession2 the same by which  the      
puffin turns out the old rabbits1 eats  
the young ones1 and then lays  her eggs 
in the rabbit burrow--simply because she
 can4    ,now1 you will see at once that
 such a course of questioning will call 
out  a great many curious and           
interesting answers1 if you can only get
 the  things to tell you their story2 as
 you always may1 if you will            
cross-examine them long enough2 and will
 lead you into many subjects  beside    
mere botany or entomology4  ,so various1
 indeed1 are the subjects  which you    
will thus start1 that ,i can only hint  
at them now in the most  cursory        
fashion4    ,at the outset you will soon
 find yourself involved in chemical and 
meteorological questions3 as1 for       
instance1 when you ask--,how is it that 

,i find one flora on the sea-shore1     
another on the sandstone1 another on    
the chalk1 and another on the           
peat-making gravelly strata8  ,the usual
  answer would be1 ,i presume--if we    
could work it out by twenty years'      
experiment1 such as ,mr4 ,lawes1 of     
,rothampsted1 has been making on the    
growth of grasses and leguminous plants 
in different soils and under  different 
manures--the usual answer1 ,i say1 would
 be--,because we plants  want such and  
such mineral constituents in our woody  
fibre2 again1  because we want a certain
 amount of moisture at a certain period 
of the  year3 or1 perhaps1 simply       
because the mechanical arrangement of   
the  particles of a certain soil happens
 to suit the shape of our roots and of  
their stomata4  ,sometimes you will get 
an answer quickly enough2  sometimes    
not4  ,if you ask1 for instance1        
,asplenium viride how it  contrives to  
grow plentifully in the ,craven of      
,yorkshire down to #fjj or  #hjj feet   

above the sea1 while in ,snowdon it     
dislikes growing lower than  #bjjj feet1
 and is not plentiful even there8--it   
will reply--,because in  the ,craven ,i 
can get as much carbonic acid as ,i want
 from the decomposing  limestone3 while 
on the ,snowdon ,silurian ,i get very   
little2 and ,i have to  make it up by   
clinging to the mountain tops1 for the  
sake of the greater  rainfall4  ,but if 
you ask ,polopodium calcareum--,how is  
it you choose  only to grow on          
limestone1 while ,polypodium            
,dryopteris1 of which1 ,i  suspect1 you 
are only a variety1 is ready to grow    
anywhere8--,polypodium  calcareum will  
refuse1 as yet1 to answer a word4       
,again--,i can only give you the merest 
string of hints--you will find in  your 
questionings that many plants and       
animals have no reason at all to  show  
why they should be in one place and not 
in another1 save the very  sound reason 
for the latter which was suggested to me
 once by a great  naturalist4  ,i was   

asking--,why don't ,i find such and such
 a species in my  parish1 while it is   
plentiful a few miles off in exactly the
 same  soil8--and he answered--,for the 
same reason that you are not in         
,america4  ,because you have not got    
there4  ,which answer threw to me a     
flood of  light on this whole science4  
,things are often where they are1 simply
  because they happen to have got there1
 and not elsewhere4  ,but they must     
have got there by some means3 and those 
means ,i want young naturalists to      
discover2 at least to guess at4    ,a   
species1 for instance--and ,i suspect it
 is a common case with  insects--may    
abound in a single spot1 simply because1
 long years ago1 a  single brood of eggs
 happened to hatch at a time when eggs  
of other  species1 who would have       
competed against them for food1 did not 
hatch2  and they may remain confined to 
that spot1 though there is plenty of    
good  food for them outside it1 simply  
because they do not increase fast enough

  to require to spread out in search of 
more food4  ,thus ,i should explain a   
case which ,i heard of lately of        
,anthocera trifolii1 abundant for years 
in one corner of a certain field1 and   
only there2 while there was just as     
much trefoil all round for its larvae as
 there was in the selected spot4  ,i    
can1 ,i say1 only give hints3 but they  
will suffice1 ,i hope1 to show the  path
 of thought into which ,i want young    
naturalists to turn their minds4    ,or1
 again1 you will have to inquire whether
 the species has not been  prevented    
from spreading by some natural barrier4 
,mr4 ,wallace1 whom you  all of course  
know1 has shown in his ',malay          
,archipelago' that a strait of  deep sea
 can act as such a barrier between      
species4  ,moritz ,wagner has  shown    
that1 in the case of insects1 a         
moderately broad river may divide  two  
closely allied species of beetles1 or a 
very narrow snow-range two  closely     
allied species of moths4    ,again1     

another cause1 and a most common one is3
 that the plants cannot  spread because 
they find the ground beyond them already
 occupied by other  plants1 who will not
 tolerate a fresh mouth1 having only    
just enough to  feed themselves4  ,take 
the case of ,saxifraga hypnoides and ,s4
  umbrosa1 ,london pride4  ,they are two
 especially strong species4  ,they  show
 that1 ,s4 hypnoides especially1 by     
their power of sporting1 of  diverging  
into varieties2 they show it equally by 
their power of thriving  anywhere1 if   
they can only get there4  ,they will    
both grow in my sandy  garden1 under a  
rainfall of only #bc inches1 more       
luxuriantly than in  their native       
mountains under a rainfall of #ej or #fj
 inches4  ,then how is  it that ,s4     
hypnoides cannot get down off the       
mountains2 and that ,s4  umbrosa1 though
 in ,kerry it has got off the mountains 
and down to the  sea level1             
exterminating1 ,i suspect1 many species 
in its progress1 yet  cannot get across 

county ,cork8  ,the only answer is1 ,i  
believe3 that both  species are         
continually trying to go ahead2 but that
 the other plants  already in front of  
them are too strong for them1 and       
massacre their  infants as soon as born4
    ,and this brings us to another      
curious question3 the sudden and        
abundant  appearance of plants1 like the
 foxglove and ,epilobium angustifolium1 
in  spots where they have never been    
seen before4  ,are their seeds1 as some 
think1 dormant in the ground2 or are the
 seeds which have germinated  fresh ones
 wafted thither by wind or otherwise1   
and only able to  germinate in that one 
spot1 because there the soil is clear8  
,general  ,monro1 now famous for his    
unequalled memoir on the bamboos1 holds 
to the  latter theory4  ,he pointed out 
to me that the ,epilobium seeds1 being  
feathered1 could travel with the wind2  
that the plant always made its          
appearance first on new banks1          
landslips1 clearings1 where it had      

nothing  to compete against2 and that   
the foxglove did the same4  ,true1 and  
most  painfully true1 in the case of    
thistles and groundsels3 but foxglove   
seeds1 though minute1 would hardly be   
carried by the wind any more than  those
 of the white clover1 which comes up so 
abundantly in drained fens4  ,adhuc sub 
judice lis est1 and ,i wish some young  
naturalists would work  carefully at the
 solution2 by experiment1 which is the  
most sure way to  find out anything4    
,but in researches in this direction    
they will find puzzles enough4  ,i  will
 give them one which ,i shall be most   
thankful to hear they have  solved      
within the next seven years--,how is it 
that we find certain  plants1 namely1   
the thrift and the scurvy grass1        
abundant on the  sea-shore and common on
 certain mountain-tops1 but nowhere     
between the  two8  ,answer me that4     
,for ,i have looked at the fact for     
years--before1  behind1 sideways1 upside
 down1 and inside out--and ,i cannot    

understand  it4    ,but all these       
questions1 and specially1 ,i suspect1   
that last one1 ought  to lead the young 
student up to the great and complex     
question--,how were  these islands      
re-peopled with plants and animals1     
after the long and  wholesale           
catastrophe of the glacial epoch8    ,i 
presume you all know1 and will agree1   
that the whole of these islands1  north 
of the ,thames1 save certain ice-clad   
mountain-tops1 were buried for  long    
ages under an icy sea4  ,from whence did
 vegetable and animal life  crawl back  
to the land1 as it rose again2 and cover
 its mantle of glacial  drift with fresh
 life and verdure8    ,now let me give  
you a few prolegomena on this matter4   
,you must study the  plants of course1  
species by species4  ,take ,watson's    
',cybele ,britannica1'  and ,moore's    
',cybele ,hibernica2' and let--as ,mr4  
,matthew ,arnold would  say--your       
thought play freely about them4  ,look  
carefully1 too1 in the  case of each    

species1 at the note on its             
distribution1 which you will  find      
appended in ,bentham's ',handbook1' and 
in ,hooker's ',student's ,flora4'  ,get 
all the help you can1 if you wish to    
work the subject out1 from  foreign     
botanists1 both ,european and ,american2
 and ,i think that1 on the  whole1 you  
will come to some such theory as this   
for a general starting  platform4  ,we  
do not owe our flora--,i must keep to   
the flora just now--to  so many         
different regions1 or types1 as ,mr4    
,watson conceives1 but to  three1       
namely3 an ,european or ,germanic flora1
 from the south-east2 an  ,atlantic     
flora1 from the south-west2 a ,northern 
flora from the north4  ,these three     
invaded us after the glacial epoch2 and 
our general flora is  their result4     
,but this will cause you much trouble4  
,before you go a step further you  will 
have to eliminate from all your         
calculations most of the plants  which  
,watson calls glareal1 i4e4 found in    

cultivated ground about  habitations4   
,and what their limit may be ,i think we
 never shall know4  ,but of this we may 
be sure2 that just as invading armies   
always bring  with them1 in forage or   
otherwise1 some plants from their own   
country--just as the ,cossacks1 in      
#ahae1 brought more than one ,russian   
plant through ,germany into             
,france--just as you have already a crop
 of  ,north ,german plants upon the     
battle-fields of ,france--thus do       
conquering  races bring new plants4     
,the ,romans1 during their #cjj or #djj 
years of  occupation and civilisation1  
must have brought more species1 ,i      
believe1  than ,i dare mention4  ,i     
suspect them of having brought1 not     
merely the  common hedge elm of the     
south1 not merely the three species of  
nettle1  but all our red poppies1 and a 
great number of the weeds which are     
common  in our cornfields2 and when we  
add to them the plants which may have   
been  brought by returning crusaders and

 pilgrims2 by monks from every part of  
,europe1 by ,flemings or other dealers  
in foreign wool2 we have to cut a  huge 
cantle out of our indigenous flora3     
only1 having no records1 we  hardly know
 where and what to cut out2 and can     
only1 we elder ones1  recommend the     
subject to the notice of the younger    
botanists1 that they  may work it out   
after our work is done4    ,of course   
these plants introduced by man1 if they 
are cut out1 must be  cut out of only   
one of the floras1 namely1 the          
,european2 for they1  probably1 came    
from the south-east1 by whatever means  
they came4    ,that ,european flora     
invaded us1 ,i presume1 immediately     
after the glacial  epoch1 at a time when
 ,france and ,england were united1 and  
the ,german  ,ocean a mere network of   
rivers1 which emptied into the deep sea 
between  ,scotland and ,scandinavia4    
,and here ,i must add1 that endless     
questions of  interest will arise to    
those who will study1 not merely the    

invasion of  that truly ,european flora1
 but the invasion of reptiles1 insects1 
and  birds1 especially birds of passage1
 which must have followed it as soon  as
 the land was sufficiently covered with 
vegetation to support life4  ,whole     
volumes remain to be written on this    
subject4  ,i trust that some of  your   
younger members may live to write one of
 them4  ,the way to begin  will be3 to  
compare the flora and fauna of this part
 of ,england very  carefully with that  
of the southern and eastern counties2   
and then to  compare them again with the
 fauna and flora of ,france1 ,belgium1  
and  ,holland4    ,as for the ,atlantic 
flora1 you will have to decide for      
yourselves whether  you accept or not   
the theory of a sunken ,atlantic        
continent4  ,i confess  that all        
objections to that theory1 however      
astounding it may seem1 are  outweighed 
in my mind by a host of facts which ,i  
can explain by no other  theory4  ,but  
you must judge for yourselves2 and to do

 so you must study  carefully the       
distribution of heaths1 both in ,europe 
and at the ,cape2 and  their            
non-appearance beyond the ,ural         
,mountains1 and in ,america1 save in    
,labrador1 where the common ling1 an    
older and less specialised form1        
exists4  ,you must consider1 too1 the   
plants common to the ,azores1           
,portugal1 the ,west of ,england1       
,ireland1 and the ,western ,hebrides4   
,in so  doing young naturalists will at 
least find proofs of a change in the    
distribution of land and water1 which   
will utterly astound them when they     
face it for the first time4    ,as for  
the ,northern flora1 the question whence
 it came is puzzling  enough4  ,it seems
 difficult to conceive how any plants   
could have  survived when ,scotland was 
an archipelago in the same ice-covered  
condition as ,greenland is now2 and we  
have no proof that there existed  after 
the glacial epoch any northern continent
 from which the plants and  animals     

could have come back to us4  ,the       
species of plants and animals  common to
 ,britain1 ,scandinavia1 and ,north     
,america1 must have spread in           
pre-glacial times1 when a continent     
joining them did exist4    ,but some    
light has been thrown on this question  
by an article1 as  charming as it is    
able1 on ,the ,physics of the ,arctic   
,ice1 by ,dr4 ,brown1  of ,campster4    
,you will find it in the ',quarterly    
,journal of the  ,geological ,society'  
for ,february #ahgj4  ,he shows there   
that even in  ,greenland peaks and crags
 are left free enough from ice to       
support a  vegetation of between #cjj or
 #djj species of flowering plants2 and1 
therefore1 he well says1 we must be     
careful to avoid concluding that the    
plant and animal life on the dreary     
shores or mountain-tops of the old      
glacial ,scotland was poor4  ,the same  
would hold good of our mountains2  and1 
if so1 we may look with respect1 even   
with awe1 on the ,alpine plants  of     

,wales1 ,scotland1 and the ,lake        
mountains1 as organisms stunted1 it may 
be1 and even degraded1 by their long    
battle with the elements2 but  venerable
 from their age1 historic from their    
endurance4  ,relics of an  older        
temperate world1 they have lived through
 thousands of centuries of  frost and   
fog1 to sun themselves in a temperate   
climate once more4  ,i can  never pick  
one of them without a tinge of shame2   
and to exterminate one  of them is to   
destroy for the mere pleasure of        
collecting the last of a  family which  
,god has taken the trouble to preserve  
for thousands of  centuries4    ,i trust
 that these hints--for ,i can call them 
nothing more--will at least  awaken any 
young naturalist who has hitherto only  
collected natural  objects1 to study the
 really important and interesting       
question--,how did  these things get    
here8    ,now hence arise questions     
which may puzzle the mind of a          
,hampshire  naturalist4  ,you have in   

this neighbourhood1 as you well know1   
two1 or  rather three1 soils1 each      
carrying its peculiar vegetation4       
,first1 you  have the clay lying on the 
chalk1 and carrying vast woodlands1     
seemingly  primeval4  ,next1 you have   
the chalk1 with its peculiar1 delicate1 
and  often fragrant crop of lime-loving 
plants2 and next you have the poor      
sands and clays of the ,new ,forest     
basin1 saturated with iron1 and         
therefore carrying a moorland or        
peat-loving vegetation1 in many respects
  quite different from the others4  ,and
 this moorland soil1 and this           
vegetation1 with a few singular         
exceptions1 repeats itself1 as ,i       
daresay  you know1 in the north of the  
county1 in the ,bagshot basin1 as it is 
called--the moors of ,aldershot1        
,hartford ,bridge1 and ,windsor ,forest4
    ,now what a variety of interesting  
questions are opened up by these simple 
facts4  ,how did these three floras get 
each to its present place8  ,where  did 

each come from8  ,how did it get past or
 through the other1 till each  set of   
plants1 after long internecine          
competition1 settled itself down in  the
 sheet of land most congenial to it8    
,and when did each come hither8  ,which 
is the oldest8  ,will any one tell me   
whether the heathy flora of  the moors1 
or the thymy flora of the chalk downs1  
were the earlier  inhabitants of these  
isles8  ,to these questions ,i cannot   
get any answer2  and they cannot be     
answered without first--a very careful  
study of the  range of each species of  
plant on the continent of ,europe2 and  
next1  without careful study of those   
stupendous changes in the shape of this 
island which have taken place at a very 
late geological epoch4  ,the            
composition of the flora of our         
moorlands is as yet to me an utter      
puzzle4  ,we have ,lycopodiums--three   
species--enormously ancient forms  which
 have survived the age of ice3 but did  
they crawl downward hither  from the    

northern mountains1 or upward hither    
from the ,pyrenees8  ,we have  the      
beautiful bog asphodel again--an        
enormously ancient form2 for it is1     
strange to say1 common to ,north        
,america and to ,northern ,europe1 but  
does  not enter ,asia--almost an unique 
instance4  ,it must1 surely1 have come  
from the north2 and points--as do many  
species of plants and animals--to  the  
time when ,north ,europe and ,north     
,america were joined4  ,we have1        
sparingly1 in ,north ,hampshire1 though1
 strangely1 not on the ,bagshot  moors1 
the ,common or ,northern ,butterwort    
7,pinguicula vulgaris72 and  also1 in   
the south1 the ,new ,forest part of the 
county1 the delicate  little ,pinguicula
 lusitanica1 the only species now found 
in ,devon and  ,cornwall1 marking the   
,new ,forest as the extreme eastern     
limit of the  ,atlantic flora4  ,we have
 again the heaths1 which1 as ,i have    
just said1  are found neither in        
,america nor in ,asia1 and must1 ,i     

believe1 have come  from some           
south-western land long since submerged 
beneath the sea4  ,but  more1 we have in
 the ,new ,forest two plants which are  
members of the ,south  ,europe1 or      
properly1 the ,atlantic flora2 which    
must have come from the  south and      
south-east2 and which are found in no   
other spots in these  islands4  ,i mean 
the lovely ,gladiolus1 which grows      
abundantly under the  ferns near        
,lyndhurst1 certainly wild but it does  
not approach ,england  elsewhere nearer 
than the ,loire and the ,rhine2 and     
next1 that delicate  orchid1 the        
,spiranthes aestivalis1 which is known  
only in a bog near  ,lyndhurst and in   
the ,channel ,islands1 while on the     
,continent it extends  from southern    
,europe all through ,france4  ,now1 what
 do these two plants  mark8  ,they give 
us a point in botany1 though not in     
time1 to determine  when the south of   
,england was parted from the opposite   
shores of ,france2  and whenever that   

was1 it was just after the ,gladiolus   
and ,spiranthes got  hither4  ,two      
little colonies of these lovely flowers 
arrived just before  their retreat was  
cut off4  ,they found the country       
already occupied with  other plants2    
and1 not being reinforced by fresh      
colonists from the  south1 have not been
 able to spread farther north than      
,lyndhurst4  ,thus1  in the ,new        
,forest1 and1 ,i may say1 in the        
,bagshot moors1 you find plants  which  
you do not expect1 and do not find      
plants which you do expect2 and  you    
are1 or ought to be1 puzzled1 and ,i    
hope also interested1 and stirred  up to
 find out more4    ,i spoke just now of 
the time when ,england was joined to    
,france1 as  bearing on ,hampshire      
botany4  ,it bears no less on ,hampshire
 zoology4  ,in  insects1 for instance1  
the presence of the purple emperor and  
the white  admiral in our ,hampshire    
woods1 as well as the abundance of the  
great  stag-beetle1 point to a time when

 the two countries were joined1 at      
least1 as far west as ,hampshire2 while 
the absence of these insects  farther to
 the westward shows that the countries1 
if ever joined1 were  already parted2   
and that those insects have not yet had 
time to spread  westward4  ,the presence
 of these two butterflies1 and partly of
 the stag-  beetle1 along the south-east
 coast of ,england as far as the        
primeval  forests of ,south             
,lincolnshire1 points--as do a hundred  
other facts--to a  time when the        
,straits of ,dover either did not exist1
 or were the bed of a  river running    
from the west2 and when1 as ,i told you 
just now1 all the  rivers which now run 
into the ,german ,ocean1 from the       
,humber on the west  to the ,elbe on the
 east1 discharged themselves into the   
sea between  ,scotland and ,norway1     
after wandering through a vast lowland1 
covered with  countless herds of        
mammoth1 rhinoceros1 gigantic ox1 and   
other mammals  now extinct2 while the   

birds1 as far as we know2 the insects2  
the fresh-  water fish2 and even1 as my 
friend ,mr4 ,brady has proved1 the      
,entomostraca of the rivers1 were the   
same in what is now ,holland as in  what
 is now our ,eastern counties4  ,i could
 dwell long on this matter4  ,i  could  
talk long about how certain species of  
,lepidoptera--moths and                 
butterflies--like ,papilio ,machaon and 
,p4 ,podalirius1 swarm through  ,france1
 reach up to the ,british ,channel1 and 
have not crossed it2 with  the exception
 of one colony of ,machaon in the       
,cambridgeshire fens4  ,i  could talk   
long about a similar phenomenon in the  
case of our migratory  and singing      
birds3 how many exquisite               
species--notably those two glorious     
songsters1 the ,orphean ,warbler and    
,hippolais1 which delight our ears      
everywhere on the other side of the     
,channel--follow our nightingales1      
blackcaps1 and warblers northward every 
spring almost to the ,straits of        

,dover3 but dare not cross1 simply      
because they have been1 as it were1     
created since the gulf was opened1 and  
have never learnt from their  parents   
how to fly over it4    ,in the case of  
fishes1 again1 ,i might say much on the 
curious fact that  the ,cyprinidae1 or  
white fish--carp1 c4--and their natural 
enemy1 the  pike1 are indigenous1 ,i    
believe1 only to the rivers1 ,english or
  continental1 on the eastern side of   
the ,straits of ,dover2 while the       
rivers on the western side were         
originally tenanted1 like our ,hampshire
  streams1 as now1 almost entirely by   
trout1 their only ,cyprinoid being the  
minnow--if it1 too1 be not an           
interloper2 and ,i might ask you to     
consider  the bearing of this curious   
fact on the former junction of ,england 
and  ,france4    ,but ,i have only time 
to point out to you a few curious facts 
with regard  to reptiles1 which should  
be specially interesting to a ,hampshire
 bio-  geologist4  ,you know1 of course1

 that in ,ireland there are no reptiles1
  save the little common lizard1        
,lacerta agilis1 and a few frogs on the 
mountain-tops--how they got there ,i    
cannot conceive4  ,and you will1 of     
course1 guess1 and rightly1 that the    
reason of the absence of reptiles  is3  
that ,ireland was parted off from       
,england before the creatures1 which    
certainly spread from southern and      
warmer climates1 had time to get  there4
  ,you know1 of course1 that we have a  
few reptiles in ,england4  ,but  you may
 not be aware that1 as soon as you cross
 the ,channel1 you find  many more      
species of reptiles than here1 as well  
as those which you find  here4  ,the    
magnificent green lizard which rattles  
about like a rabbit in  a ,french       
forest1 is never found here2 simply     
because it had not worked  northward    
till after the ,channel was formed4     
,but there are three  reptiles peculiar 
to this part of ,england which should be
 most  interesting to a ,hampshire      

zoologist4  ,the one is the sand lizard 
7,l4  stirpium71 found on ,bourne-heath1
 and1 ,i suspect1 in the ,south         
,hampshire  moors likewise--a ,north    
,european and ,french species4          
,another1 the  ,coronella laevis1 a     
harmless ,french and ,austrian snake1   
which has been  found about me1 in      
,north ,hants and ,south ,berks1 now    
about fifteen or  twenty times4  ,i have
 had three specimens from my own parish4
  ,i believe  it not to be uncommon2 and
 most probably to be found1 by those who
 will  look1 both in the ,new ,forest   
and ,woolmer4  ,the third is the        
,natterjack1  or running toad 7,bufo    
,rubeta71 a most beautifully spotted    
animal1 with  a yellow stripe down his  
back1 which is common with me at        
,eversley1 and  common also in many     
moorlands of ,hants and ,surrey2 and1   
according to  ,fleming1 on heaths near  
,london1 and as far north-east as       
,lincolnshire2 in  which case it will   
belong to the ,germanic fauna4  ,now1   

here again we have  cases of animals    
which have just been able to get hither 
before the  severance of ,england and   
,france2 and which1 not being reinforced
 from the  rear1 have been forced to    
stop1 in small and probably decreasing  
colonies1 on the spots nearest the coast
 which were fit for them4    ,i trust   
that ,i have not kept you too long over 
these details4  ,what ,i  wish to       
impress upon you is that ,hampshire is a
 county specially fitted  for the study 
of important bio-geological questions4  
,to work them out1 you must trace the   
geology of ,hampshire1 and1 indeed1  of 
,east ,dorset4  ,you must try to form a 
conception of how the land was  shaped  
in miocene times1 before that tremendous
 upheaval which reared the  chalk cliffs
 at ,freshwater upright1 lifting the    
tertiary beds upon their  northern      
slopes4  ,you must ask--,was there not  
land to the south of the  ,isle of      
,wight in those ages1 and for ages      
after2 and what was its extent  and     

shape8  ,you must ask--,when was the gap
 between the ,isle of ,wight and  the   
,isle of ,purbeck sawn through1 leaving 
the ,needles as remnants on one  side1  
and ,old ,harry on the opposite8  ,and  
was it sawn asunder merely by  the      
age-long gnawing of the waves8  ,you    
must ask--,where did the great  river   
which ran from the west1 where ,poole   
,harbour is now1 and probably  through  
what is now the ,solent1 depositing     
brackish water-beds right and           
left--where1 ,i say1 did it run into the
 sea8  ,where the ,straits of ,dover    
are now8  ,or1 if not there1 where8     
,what1 too1 is become of the land to    
the ,westward1 composed of ancient      
metamorphic rocks1 out of which it ran1 
and deposited on what are now the       
,haggerstone ,moors of ,poole1 vast beds
  of grit8  ,what was the climate on its
 banks when it washed down the  delicate
 leaves of broad-leaved trees1 akin to  
our modern ,english ones1  which are    
found in the fine mud-sand strata of    

,bournemouth8  ,when1  finally1 did it  
dwindle down to the brook which now runs
 through ,wareham  town8  ,was its bed  
sea1 or dry land1 or under an ice sheet1
 during the  long ages of the glacial   
epoch8  ,and if you say--,who is        
sufficient for  these things8--,who can 
answer these questions8  ,i answer--,who
 but you1 or  your pupils after you1 if 
you will but try8    ,and if any shall  
reply--,and what use if ,i do try8      
,what use1 if ,i do try8  ,what use if  
,i succeed in answering every question  
which you have  propounded to-night8    
,shall ,i be the happier for it8  ,shall
 ,i be the  wiser8    ,my friends1      
whether you will be the happier for it1 
or for any knowledge  of physical       
science1 or for any other knowledge     
whatsoever1 ,i cannot  tell3 that lies  
in the decision of a ,higher ,power than
 ,i2 and1 indeed1 to  speak honestly1 ,i
 do not think that bio-geology or any   
other branch of  physical science is    
likely1 at first at least1 to make you  

happy4  ,neither  is the study of your  
fellow-men4  ,neither is religion       
itself4  ,we were  not sent into the    
world to be happy1 but to be right2 at  
least1 poor  creatures that we are1 as  
right as we can be2 and we must be      
content with  being right1 and not      
happy4  ,for ,i fear1 or rather ,i hope1
 that most of  us are not capable of    
carrying out ,talleyrand's recipe for   
perfect  happiness on earth--namely1 a  
hard heart and a good digestion4        
,therefore1  as our hearts are1 happily1
 not always hard1 and our digestions1   
unhappily1 not always good1 we will be  
content to be made wise by  physical    
science1 even though we be not made     
happy4    ,and we shall be made truly   
wise if we be made content2 content1    
too1 not  only with what we can         
understand1 but1 content with what we do
 not  understand--the habit of mind     
which theologians call--and             
rightly--faith  in ,god2 the true and   
solid faith1 which comes often out of   

sadness1 and  out of doubt1 such as     
bio-geology may well stir in us at first
 sight4  ,for  our first feeling will   
be--,i know mine was when ,i began to   
look into  these matters--one somewhat  
of dread and of horror4    ,here were   
all these creatures1 animal and         
vegetable1 competing against  each      
other4  ,and their competition was so   
earnest and complete1 that it  did not  
mean--as it does among honest           
shopkeepers in a civilised  country--,i 
will make a little more money than you2 
but--,i will crush you1  enslave you1   
exterminate you1 eat you up4  ,woe to   
the weak1 seems to be  ,nature's        
watchword4  ,the ,psalmist says1 ,the   
righteous shall inherit the  land4  ,if 
you go to a tropical forest1 or1 indeed1
 if you observe  carefully a square acre
 of any ,english land1 cultivated or    
uncultivated1  you will find that       
,nature's text at first sight looks a   
very different  one4  ,she seems to     
say--,not the righteous1 but the strong1

 shall inherit  the land4  ,plant1      
insect1 bird1 what not--,find a weaker  
plant1 insect1  bird1 than yourself1 and
 kill it1 and take possession of its    
little  vineyard1 and no ,naboth's curse
 shall follow you3 but you shall        
inherit1  and thrive therein1 you1 and  
your children after you1 if they will be
  only as strong and as cruel as you    
are4  ,that is ,nature's law3 and is it 
not at first sight a fearful law8       
,internecine competition1 ruthless      
selfishness1 so internecine and so      
ruthless that1 as ,i have wandered in   
tropic forests1 where this temper is    
shown more quickly and fiercely1  though
 not in the least more evilly1 than in  
our slow and cold temperate  one1 ,i    
have said--,really these trees and      
plants are as wicked as so many  human  
beings4    ,throughout the great        
republic of the organic world1 the motto
 of the  majority is1 and always has    
been as far back as we can see1 what it 
is1  and always has been1 with the      

majority of human beings1 ,every one for
  himself1 and the devil take the       
hindmost4  ,over-reaching tyranny2 the  
temper which fawns1 and clings1 and     
plays the parasite as long as it is     
down1 and when it has risen1 fattens on 
its patron's blood and  life--these1 and
 the other works of the flesh1 are the  
works of average  plants and animals1 as
 far as they can practise them4  ,at    
least1 so says  at first sight the      
science of bio-geology2 till the        
naturalist1 if he be  also human and    
humane1 is glad to escape from the      
confusion and darkness  of the universal
 battle-field of selfishness into the   
order and light of  ,christmas-tide4    
,for then there comes to him the        
thought--,and are these all the facts8  
,and  is this all which the facts mean8 
,that mutual competition is one law of  
,nature1 we see too plainly4  ,but is   
there not1 besides that law1 a law of   
mutual help8  ,true it is1 as the wise  
man has said1 that the very hyssop  on  

the wall grows there because all the    
forces of the universe could not        
prevent its growing4  ,all honour to the
 hyssop4  ,a brave plant1 it has  fought
 a brave fight1 and has its just        
deserts--as everything in ,nature       
has--and so has won4  ,but did all the  
powers of the universe combine to       
prevent it growing8  ,is not that a     
one-sided statement of facts8  ,did not 
all the powers of the universe also     
combine to make it grow1 if only it  had
 valour and worth wherewith to grow8    
,did not the rains feed it1 the  very   
mortar in the wall give lime to its     
roots8  ,were not electricity1          
gravitation1 and ,i know not what of    
chemical and mechanical forces1 busy    
about the little plant1 and every cell  
of it1 kindly and patiently ready  to   
help it1 if it would only help itself8  
,surely this is true2 true of  every    
organic thing1 animal and vegetable1 and
 mineral1 too1 for aught ,i  know3 and  
so we must soften our sadness at the    

sight of the universal  mutual war by   
the sight of an equally universal mutual
 help4    ,but more4  ,it is true--too  
true if you will--that all things live  
on each  other4  ,but is it not1        
therefore1 equally true that all things 
live for  each other8--that             
self-sacrifice1 and not selfishness1 is 
at the bottom  the law of ,nature1 as it
 is the law of ,grace2 and the law of   
bio-geology1  as it is the law of all   
religion and virtue worthy of the name8 
,is it  not true that everything has to 
help something else to live1 whether it 
knows it or not8--that not a plant or an
 animal can turn again to its  dust     
without giving food and existence to    
other plants1 other  animals8--that the 
very tiger1 seemingly the most useless  
tyrant of all  tyrants1 is still of use1
 when1 after sending out of the world   
suddenly1  and all but painlessly1 many 
an animal which would without him have  
starved in misery through a diseased old
 age1 he himself dies1 and1 in  dying1  

gives1 by his own carcase1 the means of 
life and of enjoyment to a  thousandfold
 more living creatures than ever his    
paws destroyed8    ,and so1 the longer  
one watches the great struggle for      
existence1 the more  charitable1 the    
more hopeful1 one becomes2 as one sees  
that1 consciously  or unconsciously1 the
 law of ,nature is1 after all1          
self-sacrifice2  unconscious in plants  
and animals1 as far as we know2 save    
always those  magnificent instances of  
true self-sacrifice shown by the social 
insects1  by ants1 bees1 and others1    
which put to shame by a civilization    
truly  noble--why should ,i not say     
divine1 for ,god ordained it8--the      
selfishness  and barbarism of man4  ,but
 be that as it may1 in man the law of   
self-sacrifice--whether unconscious or  
not in the animals--rises into          
consciousness just as far as he is a    
man2 and the crowning lesson of bio-    
geology may be1 when we have worked it  
out1 after all1 the lesson of           

,christmas-tide--of the infinite        
self-sacrifice of ,god for man2 and     
,nature  as well as religion may say to 
us--       ,ah1 could you crush that    
ever craving lust     ,for bliss1 which 
kills all bliss1 and lose your life1    
,your barren unit life1 to find again   
,a thousand times in those for whom you 
die--     ,so were you men and women1   
and should hold     ,your rightful rank 
in ,god's great universe1     ,wherein1 
in heaven or earth1 by will or nature1  
,naught lives for self4  ,all1 all1 from
 crown to base--     ,the ,lamb1 before 
the world's foundation slain--     ,the 
angels1 ministers to ,god's elect--     
,the sun1 who only shines to light the  
worlds--     ,the clouds1 whose glory is
 to die in showers--     ,the fleeting  
streams1 who in their ocean graves      
,flee the decay of stagnant             
self-content--     ,the oak1 ennobled by
 the shipwright's axe--     ,the soil1  
which yields its marrow to the flower-- 
,the flower1 which feeds a thousand     

velvet worms     ,born only to be prey  
to every bird--     ,all spend          
themselves on others3 and shall man1    
,whose two-fold being is the mystic knot
     ,which couples earth with heaven1  
doubly bound1     ,as being both worm   
and angel1 to that service     ,by which
 both worms and angels hold their life1 
,shall he1 whose every breath is debt on
 debt1     ,refuse1 forsooth1 to be what
 ,god has made him8     ,no2 let him    
show himself the creatures' ,lord       
,by free-will gift of that              
self-sacrifice     ,which they1         
perforce1 by ,nature's laws endure4     
,my friends1 scientific and others1 if  
the study of bio-geology shall help  to 
teach you this1 or anything like this2  
,i think that though it may not  make   
you more happy1 it may yet make you more
 wise2 and1 therefore1 what  is better  
than being more happy1 namely1 more     
blessed4          ,,heroism      ,it is 
an open question whether the policeman  
is not demoralizing us2 and  that in    

proportion as he does his duty well2    
whether the perfection of  justice and  
safety1 the complete preservation of    
body and goods1 may  not reduce the     
educated and comfortable classes into   
that lap-dog  condition in which not    
conscience1 but comfort1 doth make      
cowards of us  all4  ,our forefathers   
had1 on the whole1 to take care of      
themselves2 we  find it more convenient 
to hire people to take care of us4  ,so 
much the  better for us1 in some        
respects3 but1 it may be1 so much the   
worse in  others4  ,so much the better2 
because1 as usually results from the    
division of labour1 these people1 having
 little or nothing to do save to  take  
care of us1 do so far better than we    
could2 and so prevent a vast  amount of 
violence and wrong1 and therefore of    
misery1 especially to the  weak3 for    
which last reason we will acquiesce in  
the existence of  policemen and lawyers1
 as we do in the results of arbitration1
 as the  lesser of two evils4  ,the odds

 in war are in favour of the bigger     
bully2  in arbitration1 in favour of the
 bigger rogue2 and it is a question     
whether the lion or the fox be the safer
 guardian of human interests4  ,but     
arbitration prevents war3 and that1 in  
three cases out of four1 is full  reason
 for employing it4    ,on the other     
hand1 the lap-dog condition1 whether in 
dogs or in men1 is  certainly           
unfavourable to the growth of the higher
 virtues4  ,safety and  comfort are     
good1 indeed1 for the good2 for the     
brave1 the  self-originating1 the       
earnest4  ,they give to such a clear    
stage and no  favour wherein to work    
unhindered for their fellow-men4  ,but  
for the  majority1 who are neither      
brave1 self-originating1 nor earnest1   
but the  mere puppets of circumstance1  
safety and comfort may1 and actually do1
  merely make their lives mean and      
petty1 effeminate and dull4  ,therefore 
their hearts must be awakened1 as often 
as possible1 to take exercise  enough   

for health2 and they must be reminded1  
perpetually and  importunately1 of what 
a certain great philosopher called      
whatsoever  things are true1 honourable1
 just1 pure1 lovely1 and of good report2
 if  there be any manhood1 and any just 
praise1 to think of such things4        
,this pettiness and dulness of our      
modern life is just what keeps alive    
our stage1 to which people go to see    
something a little less petty1 a  little
 less dull1 than what they see at home4 
,it is1 too1 the cause of--,i  had      
almost said the excuse for--the modern  
rage for sensational novels4  ,those who
 read them so greedily are conscious1   
poor souls1 of capacities  in themselves
 of passion and action1 for good and    
evil1 for which their  frivolous humdrum
 daily life gives no room1 no vent4     
,they know too well  that human nature  
can be more fertile1 whether in weeds   
and poisons1 or  in flowers and fruits1 
than it is usually in the streets and   
houses of a  well-ordered and tolerably 

sober city4  ,and because the study of  
human  nature is1 after all1 that which 
is nearest to every one and most        
interesting to every one1 therefore they
 go to fiction1 since they cannot  go to
 fact1 to see what they themselves might
 be had they the chance2 to  see what   
fantastic tricks before high heaven men 
and women like  themselves can play2 and
 how they play them4    ,well3 it is not
 for me to judge1 for me to blame4  ,i  
will only say that  there are those who 
cannot read sensational novels1 or1     
indeed1 any  novels at all1 just because
 they see so many sensational novels    
being  enacted round them in painful    
facts of sinful flesh and blood4  ,there
 are  those1 too1 who have looked in the
 mirror too often to wish to see their  
own disfigured visage in it any more2   
who are too tired of themselves and     
ashamed of themselves to want to hear of
 people like themselves2 who want  to   
hear of people utterly unlike           
themselves1 more noble1 and able1 and   

just1 and sweet1 and pure2 who long to  
hear of heroism and to converse  with   
heroes2 and who1 if by chance they meet 
with an heroic act1 bathe  their spirits
 in that1 as in ,may-dew1 and feel      
themselves thereby1 if but  for an hour1
 more fair4    ,if any such shall chance
 to see these words1 let me ask them to 
consider  with me that one word ,hero1  
and what it means4    ,hero2 ,heroic2   
,heroism4  ,these words point to a phase
 of human nature1 the  capacity for     
which we all have in ourselves1 which is
 as startling and as  interesting in its
 manifestations as any1 and which is    
always beautiful1  always ennobling1 and
 therefore always attractive to those   
whose hearts  are not yet seared by the 
world or brutalized by self-indulgence4 
,but let us first be sure what the words
 mean4  ,there is no use talking  about 
a word till we have got at its meaning4 
,we may use it as a cant  phrase1 as a  
party cry on platforms2 we may even hate
 and persecute our  fellow-men for the  

sake of it3 but till we have clearly    
settled in our  own minds what a word   
means1 it will do for fighting with1 but
 not for  working with4  ,socrates of   
old used to tell the young ,athenians   
that the  ground of all sound knowledge 
was--to understand the true meaning of  
the  words which were in their mouths   
all day long2 and ,socrates was a wiser 
man than we shall ever see4  ,so1       
instead of beginning an oration in      
praise of heroism1 ,i shall ask my      
readers to think with me what heroism   
is4    ,now1 we shall always get most   
surely at the meaning of a word by      
getting  at its etymology--that is1 at  
what it meant at first4  ,and if heroism
  means behaving like a hero1 we must   
find out1 it seems to me1 not merely    
what a hero may happen to mean just now1
 but what it meant in the  earliest     
human speech in which we find it4    ,a 
hero or a heroine1 then1 among the old  
,homeric ,greeks1 meant a man or  woman 
who was like the gods2 and who1 from    

that likeness1 stood superior  to his or
 her fellow-creatures4  ,gods1 heroes1  
and men1 is a threefold  division of    
rational beings1 with which we meet more
 than once or twice4  ,those grand old  
,greeks felt deeply the truth of the    
poet's saying--          ,unless above  
himself he can     ,exalt himself1 how  
poor a thing is man4    ,but more3 the  
,greeks supposed these heroes to be1 in 
some way or other1  partakers of a      
divine nature2 akin to the gods2        
usually1 either they1 or  some ancestor 
of theirs1 descended from a god or      
goddess4  ,those who have  read ,mr4    
,gladstone's ',juventus ,mundi' will    
remember the section 7cap4 ix4  section 
#f7 on the modes of the approximation   
between the divine and the  human       
natures2 and whether or not they agree  
with the author altogether1  all will   
agree1 ,i think1 that the first idea of 
a hero or a heroine was a  godlike man  
or godlike woman4    ,a godlike man4    
,what varied1 what infinite forms of    

nobleness that word  might include1 ever
 increasing1 as men's notions of the    
gods became purer  and loftier1 or1     
alas6 decreasing1 as their notions      
became degraded4  ,the  old ,greeks1    
with that intense admiration of beauty  
which made them1 in  after ages1 the    
master sculptors and draughtsmen of     
their own1 and1  indeed1 of any age1    
would1 of course1 require in their hero1
 their  godlike man1 beauty and         
strength1 manners1 too1 and eloquence1  
and all  outward perfections of         
humanity1 and neglect his moral         
qualities4  ,neglect1 ,i say1 but not   
ignore4  ,the hero1 by virtue of his    
kindred with  the gods1 was always      
expected to be a better man than common 
men1 as  virtue was then understood4    
,and how better8  ,let us see4    ,the  
hero was at least expected to be more   
reverent than other men to  those divine
 beings of whose nature he partook1     
whose society he might  enjoy even here 
on earth4  ,he might be unfaithful to   

his own high  lineage2 he might misuse  
his gifts by selfishness and self-will2 
he  might1 like ,ajax1 rage with mere   
jealousy and wounded pride till his rage
  ended in shameful madness and suicide4
  ,he might rebel against the very      
gods1 and all laws of right and wrong1  
till he perished in his ,greek  text1   
,smitten down1 blind in his pride1 for a
 sign and a terror to     mortals4      
,but he ought to have1 he must have1 to 
be true to his name of ,hero1  justice1 
self-restraint1 and ,greek text--that   
highest form of modesty1  for which we  
have1 alas6 no name in the ,english     
tongue2 that perfect  respect for the   
feelings of others which springs out of 
perfect  self-respect4  ,and he must    
have1 too--if he were to be a hero of   
the  highest type--the instinct of      
helpfulness2 the instinct that1 if he   
were  a kinsman of the gods1 he must    
fight on their side1 through toil and   
danger1 against all that was unlike     
them1 and therefore hateful to them4    

,who loves not the old legends1         
unsurpassed for beauty in the literature
  of any race1 in which the hero stands 
out as the deliverer1 the destroyer  of 
evil8  ,theseus ridding the land of     
robbers1 and delivering it from the     
yearly tribute of boys and maidens to be
 devoured by the ,minotaur2  ,perseus   
slaying the ,gorgon1 and rescuing       
,andromeda from the sea-beast2          
,heracles with his twelve famous labours
 against giants and monsters2 and  all  
the rest--       ,who dared1 in the     
god-given might of their manhood        
,greatly to do and to suffer1 and far in
 the fens and the forests     ,smite the
 devourers of men1 heaven-hated1 brood  
of the giants2     ,transformed1        
strange1 without like1 who obey not the 
golden-haired     rulers--    ,these are
 figures whose divine moral beauty has  
sunk into the hearts1 not  merely of    
poets or of artists1 but of men and     
women who suffered and who  feared2 the 
memory of them1 fables though they may  

have been1 ennobled  the old ,greek     
heart2 they ennobled the heart of       
,europe in the fifteenth  century1 at   
the rediscovery of ,greek literature4   
,so far from  contradicting the         
,christian ideal1 they harmonised       
with--,i had almost  said they          
supplemented--that more tender and      
saintly ideal of heroism  which had     
sprung up during the earlier ,middle    
,ages4  ,they justified1 and  actually  
gave a new life to1 the old noblenesses 
of chivalry1 which had  grown up in the 
later ,middle ,ages as a necessary      
supplement of active and  manly virtue  
to the passive and feminine virtue of   
the cloister4  ,they  inspired1 mingling
 with these two other elements1 a       
literature1 both in  ,england1 ,france1 
and ,italy1 in which the three elements1
 the saintly1 the  chivalrous1 and the  
,greek heroic1 have become one and      
undistinguishable1  because all three   
are human1 and all three divine2 a      
literature which  developed itself in   

,ariosto1 in ,tasso1 in the             
,hypnerotomachia1 the  ,arcadia1 the    
,euphues1 and other forms1 sometimes    
fantastic1 sometimes  questionable1 but 
which reached its perfection in our own 
,spenser's  ',fairy ,queen'--perhaps the
 most admirable poem which has ever been
 penned  by mortal man4    ,and why8    
,what has made these old ,greek myths   
live1 myths though they be1  and fables1
 and fair dreams8  ,what1 though they   
have no body1 and1  perhaps1 never had1 
has given them an immortal soul1 which  
can speak to  the immortal souls of all 
generations to come8    ,what but this1 
that in them--dim it may be and         
undeveloped1 but still  there--lies the 
divine idea of self-sacrifice as the    
perfection of  heroism2 of              
self-sacrifice1 as the highest duty and 
the highest joy of  him who claims a    
kindred with the gods8    ,let us say1  
then1 that true heroism must involve    
self-sacrifice4  ,those  stories        
certainly involve it1 whether ancient or

 modern1 which the  hearts1 not of      
philosophers merely1 or poets1 but of   
the poorest and the  most ignorant1 have
 accepted instinctively as the highest  
form of moral  beauty--the highest form1
 and yet one possible to all4    ,grace 
,darling rowing out into the storm      
toward the wreck4--,the drunken  private
 of the ,buffs1 who1 prisoner among the 
,chinese1 and commanded to  prostrate   
himself and kotoo1 refused in the name  
of his country's  honour--,he would not 
bow to any ,chinaman on earth3 and so   
was knocked  on the head1 and died      
surely a hero's death4--,those soldiers 
of the  ',birkenhead1' keeping their    
ranks to let the women and children     
escape1  while they watched the sharks  
who in a few minutes would be tearing   
them  limb from limb4--,or1 to go across
 the ,atlantic--for there are heroes in 
the ,far ,west--,mr4 ,bret ,harte's     
,flynn of ,virginia1 on the ,central    
,pacific ,railway--the place is shown to
 travellers--who sacrificed his  life   

for his married comrade1--       ,there1
 in the drift1     ,back to the wall1   
,he held the timbers     ,ready to fall4
     ,then in the darkness     ,i heard 
him call1--     ',run for your life1    
,jake6     ,run for your wife's sake6   
,don't wait for me4'       ,and that was
 all     ,heard in the din--     ,heard 
of ,tom ,flynn1     ,flynn of ,virginia4
    ,or the engineer1 again1 on the     
,mississippi1 who1 when the steamer     
caught  fire1 held1 as he had sworn he  
would1 her bow against the bank till    
every  soul save he got safe on shore1--
       ,through the hot black breath of 
the burning boat        ,jim ,bludso's  
voice was heard2     ,and they all had  
trust in his cussedness1        ,and    
knew he would keep his word4     ,and   
sure's you're born1 they all got off    
,afore the smokestacks fell1--     ,and 
,bludso's ghost went up alone        ,in
 the smoke of the ',prairie ,belle4'    
,he weren't no saint--but at judgment   
,i'd run my chance with ,jim            

',longside of some pious gentlemen      
,that wouldn't shake hands with him4    
,he'd seen his duty--a dead sure thing--
        ,and went for it there and then2
     ,and ,christ is not going to be too
 hard        ,on a man that died for    
men4    ,to which gallant poem of       
,colonel ,john ,hay's--and he has       
written many  gallant and beautiful     
poems--,i have but one demurrer3 ,jim   
,bludso did not  merely do his duty1 but
 more than his duty4  ,he did a         
voluntary deed1 to  which he was bound  
by no code or contract1 civil or moral2 
just as he who  introduced me to that   
poem won his ,victoria ,cross--as many a
 cross1  ,victoria and other1 has been  
won--by volunteering for a deed to which
 he1  too1 was bound by no code or      
contract1 military or moral4  ,and it is
 of  the essence of self-sacrifice1 and1
 therefore1 of heroism1 that it should  
be voluntary2 a work of supererogation1 
at least towards society and man3  an   
act to which the hero or heroine is not 

bound by duty1 but which is  above      
though not against duty4    ,nay1 on the
 strength of that same element of       
self-sacrifice1 ,i will not  grudge the 
epithet heroic1 which my revered friend 
,mr4 ,darwin justly  applies to the poor
 little monkey1 who once in his life did
 that which  was above his duty2 who    
lived in continual terror of the great  
baboon1  and yet1 when the brute had    
sprung upon his friend the keeper1 and  
was  tearing out his throat1 conquered  
his fear by love1 and1 at the risk of   
instant death1 sprang in turn upon his  
dreaded enemy1 and bit and  shrieked    
till help arrived4    ,some would       
now-a-days use that story merely to     
prove that the monkey's  nature and the 
man's nature are1 after all1 one and the
 same4  ,well3 ,i1  at least1 have never
 denied that there is a monkey-nature in
 man as there  is a peacock-nature1 and 
a swine-nature1 and a wolf-nature--of   
all which  four ,i see every day too    
much4  ,the sharp and stern distinction 

between  men and animals1 as far as     
their natures are concerned1 is of a    
more  modern origin than people fancy4  
,of old the ,assyrian took the eagle1   
the  ox1 and the lion--and not          
unwisely--as the three highest types of 
human  capacity4  ,the horses of ,homer 
might be immortal1 and weep for their   
master's death4  ,the animals and       
monsters of ,greek myth--like the       
,ananzi  spider of ,negro fable--glide  
insensibly into speech and reason4      
,birds--the  most wonderful of all      
animals in the eyes of a man of science 
or a  poet--are sometimes looked on as  
wiser1 and nearer to the gods1 than man4
  ,the ,norseman--the noblest and ablest
 human being1 save the ,greek1 of whom  
history can tell us--was not ashamed to 
say of the bear of his native  forests  
that he had ten men's strength and      
eleven men's wisdom4  ,how  could       
,reinecke ,fuchs have gained            
immortality1 in the ,middle ,ages and   
since1 save by the truth of its too     

solid and humiliating theorem--that  the
 actions of the world of men were1 on   
the whole1 guided by passions  but too  
exactly like those of the lower animals8
  ,i have said1 and say  again1 with    
good old ,vaughan--          ,unless    
above himself he can     ,exalt himself1
 how mean a thing is man4    ,but ,i    
cannot forget that many an old ,greek   
poet or sage1 and many a  sixteenth and 
seventeenth century one1 would have     
interpreted the  monkey's heroism from  
quite a different point of view2 and    
would have  said that the poor little   
creature had been visited suddenly by   
some  divine afflatus--an expression    
quite as philosophical and quite as     
intelligible as most philosophic        
formulas which ,i read now-a-days--and  
had been thus raised for the moment     
above his abject selfish  monkey-nature1
 just as man requires to be raised above
 his4  ,but that  theory belongs to a   
philosophy which is out of date and out 
of fashion1  and which will have to wait

 a century or two before it comes into  
fashion  again4    ,and now3 if         
self-sacrifice and heroism be1 as ,i    
believe1 identical1 ,i  must protest    
against a use of the word sacrifice     
which is growing too  common in         
newspaper-columns1 in which we are told 
of an enormous  sacrifice of life2 an   
expression which means merely that a    
great many  poor wretches have been     
killed1 quite against their own will1   
and for no  purpose whatsoever3 no      
sacrifice at all1 unless it be one to   
the demons  of ignorance1 cupidity or   
mismanagement4    ,the stout ,whig      
undergraduate understood better the     
meaning of such words1  who1 when asked1
 ,in what sense might ,charles the      
,first be said to be a  martyr8         
answered1 ,in the same sense that a man 
might be said to be a  martyr to the    
gout4    ,and ,i must protest1 in like  
wise1 against a misuse of the words     
hero1  heroism1 heroic1 which is        
becoming too common1 namely1 applying   

them to  mere courage4  ,we have        
borrowed the misuse1 ,i believe1 as we  
have more  than one beside1 from the    
,french press4  ,i trust that we shall  
neither  accept it1 nor the temper which
 inspires it4  ,it may be convenient for
  those who flatter their nation1 and   
especially the military part of it1     
into a ruinous self-conceit1 to frame   
some such syllogism as  this--,courage  
is heroism3 every ,frenchman is         
naturally courageous3  therefore every  
,frenchman is a hero4  ,but we1 who have
 been trained at  once in a sounder     
school of morals1 and in a greater      
respect for facts1  and for language as 
the expression of facts1 shall be       
careful1 ,i hope1  not to trifle thus   
with that potent and awful engine--human
 speech4  ,we  shall eschew likewise1 ,i
 hope1 a like abuse of the word moral1  
which has  crept from the ,french press 
now and then1 not only into our own     
press1  but into the writings of some of
 our military men1 who1 as ,englishmen1 

should have known better4  ,we were told
 again and again1 during the late  war1 
that the moral effect of such a success 
had been great2 that the  morale of the 
troops was excellent2 or again1 that the
 morale of the  troops had suffered1 or 
even that they were somewhat            
demoralised4  ,but  when one came to    
test what was really meant by these fine
 words1 one  discovered that morals had 
nothing to do with the facts which they 
expressed2 that the troops were in the  
one case actuated simply by the  animal 
passion of hope1 in the other simply by 
the animal passion of  fear4  ,this     
abuse of the word moral has crossed1 ,i 
am sorry to say1 the  ,atlantic2 and a  
witty ,american1 whom we must excuse1   
though we must not  imitate1 when some  
one had been blazing away at him with a 
revolver1 he  being unarmed1 is said to 
have described his very natural emotions
 on the  occasion1 by saying that he    
felt dreadfully demoralised4  ,we1 ,i   
hope1  shall confine the word           

demoralisation1 as our generals of the  
last  century would have done1 when     
applied to soldiers1 to crime1          
including1  of course1 the neglect of   
duty or of discipline2 and we shall mean
 by the  word heroism in like manner1   
whether applied to a soldier or to any  
human  being1 not mere courage2 not the 
mere doing of duty3 but the doing of    
something beyond duty2 something which  
is not in the bond2 some  spontaneous   
and unexpected act of self-devotion4    
,i am glad1 but not surprised1 to see   
that ,miss ,yonge has held to this      
sound distinction in her golden little  
book of ',golden ,deeds2' and said1     
,obedience1 at all costs and risks1 is  
the very essence of a soldier's  life4  
,it has the solid material1 but it has  
hardly the exceptional  brightness1 of a
 golden deed4    ,i know that it is very
 difficult to draw the line between mere
 obedience  to duty and express heroism4
  ,i know also that it would be both    
invidious  and impertinent in an utterly

 unheroic personage like me1 to try to  
draw  that line2 and to sit at home at  
ease1 analysing and criticising deeds   
which ,i could not do myself3 but--to   
give an instance or two of what ,i      
mean--    ,to defend a post as long as  
it is tenable is not heroic4  ,it is    
simple  duty4  ,to defend it after it   
has become untenable1 and even to die in
 so  doing1 is not heroic1 but a noble  
madness1 unless an advantage is to be   
gained thereby for one's own side4      
,then1 indeed1 it rises towards1 if  not
 into1 the heroism of self-sacrifice4   
,who1 for example1 will not endorse the 
verdict of all ages on the conduct  of  
those ,spartans at ,thermopylae1 when   
they sat combing their yellow  hair for 
death on the sea-shore8  ,they devoted  
themselves to hopeless  destruction3 but
 why8  ,they felt--,i must believe that1
 for they behaved  as if they felt--that
 on them the destinies of the ,western  
,world might  hang2 that they were in   
the forefront of the battle between     

civilisation  and barbarism1 between    
freedom and despotism2 and that they    
must teach  that vast mob of ,persian   
slaves1 whom the officers of the ,great 
,king were  driving with whips up to    
their lance-points1 that the spirit of  
the old  heroes was not dead2 and that  
the ,greek1 even in defeat and death1   
was a  mightier and a nobler man than   
they4  ,and they did their work4  ,they 
produced1 if you will1 a moral effect1  
which has lasted even to this  very day4
  ,they struck terror into the heart1   
not only of the ,persian  host1 but of  
the whole ,persian empire4  ,they made  
the event of that war  certain1 and the 
victories of ,salamis and ,plataea      
comparatively easy4  ,they made         
,alexander's conquest of the ,east1 #aej
 years afterwards1 not  only possible at
 all1 but permanent when it came2 and   
thus helped to  determine the future    
civilisation of the whole world4        
,they did not1 of course1 foresee all   
this4  ,no great or inspired man can    

foresee all the consequences of his     
deeds3 but these men were1 as ,i hold1  
inspired to see somewhat at least of the
 mighty stake for which they  played2   
and to count their lives worthless1 if  
,sparta had sent them  thither to help  
in that great game4    ,or shall we     
refuse the name of heroic to those three
 ,german cavalry  regiments who1 in the 
battle of ,mars ,la ,tour1 were bidden  
to hurl  themselves upon the chassepots 
and mitrailleuses of the unbroken       
,french  infantry1 and went to almost   
certain death1 over the corpses of their
  comrades1 on and in and through1      
reeling man over horse1 horse over man1 
and clung like bull-dogs to their work1 
and would hardly leave1 even at  the    
bugle-call1 till in one regiment        
thirteen officers out of nineteen  were 
killed or wounded8  ,and why8           
,because the ,french army must be       
stopped1 if it were but for a quarter of
  an hour4  ,a respite must be gained   
for the exhausted ,third ,corps4  ,and  

how much might be done1 even in a       
quarter of an hour1 by men who knew     
when1 and where1 and why to die4  ,who  
will refuse the name of heroes to  these
 men8  ,and yet they1 probably1 would   
have utterly declined the  honour4      
,they had but done that which was in the
 bond4  ,they were but  obeying orders  
after all4  ,as ,miss ,yonge well says  
of all heroic  persons--',i have but    
done that which it was my duty to do1'  
is the  natural answer of those capable 
of such actions4  ,they have been       
constrained to them by duty or pity2    
have never deemed it possible to act    
otherwise2 and did not once think of    
themselves in the matter at all4        
,these last true words bring us to      
another element in heroism3 its         
simplicity4  ,whatsoever is not simple2 
whatsoever is affected1 boastful1       
wilful1 covetous1 tarnishes1 even       
destroys1 the heroic character of a     
deed2 because all these faults spring   
out of self4  ,on the other hand1       

wherever you find a perfectly simple1   
frank1 unconscious character1 there  you
 have the possibility1 at least1 of     
heroic action4  ,for it is nobler  far  
to do the most commonplace duty in the  
household1 or behind the  counter1 with 
a single eye to duty1 simply because it 
must be done--nobler  far1 ,i say1 than 
to go out of your way to attempt a      
brilliant deed1 with  a double mind1 and
 saying to yourself not only--,this will
 be a brilliant  deed1 but also--and it 
will pay me1 or raise me1 or set me off1
 into  the bargain4  ,heroism knows no  
into the bargain4  ,and therefore1      
again1 ,i must protest against applying 
the word heroic to any deeds1  however  
charitable1 however toilsome1 however   
dangerous1 performed for  the sake of   
what certain ,french ladies1 ,i am told1
 call faire son  salut--saving one's    
soul in the world to come4  ,i do not   
mean to judge4  ,other and quite        
unselfish motives may be1 and doubtless 
often are1 mixed  up with that selfish  

one3 womanly pity and tenderness2 love  
for1 and  desire to imitate1 a certain  
incarnate ideal of self-sacrifice1 who  
is at  once human and divine4  ,but that
 motive of saving the soul1 which is too
  often openly proposed and proffered1  
is utterly unheroic4  ,the desire to    
escape pains and penalties hereafter by 
pains and penalties here2 the  balance  
of present loss against future          
gain--what is this but selfishness      
extended out of this world into         
eternity8  ,not worldliness1 indeed1 as 
a satirist once said with bitter truth1 
but other-worldliness4    ,moreover--and
 the young and the enthusiastic should  
also bear this in  mind--though heroism 
means the going beyond the limits of    
strict duty1 it  never means the going  
out of the path of strict duty4  ,if it 
is your duty  to go to ,london1 go      
thither3 you may go as much further as  
you choose  after that4  ,but you must  
go to ,london first4  ,do your duty     
first2 it  will be time after that to   

talk of being heroic4    ,and therefore 
one must seriously warn the young1 lest 
they mistake for  heroism and           
self-sacrifice what is merely pride and 
self-will1 discontent  with the         
relations by which ,god has bound them1 
and the circumstances  which ,god has   
appointed for them4  ,i have known girls
 think they were  doing a fine thing by 
leaving uncongenial parents or          
disagreeable  sisters1 and cutting out  
for themselves1 as they fancied1 a more 
useful  and elevated line of life than  
that of mere home duties2 while1 after  
all1 poor things1 they were only saying1
 with the ,pharisees of old1  ,corban1  
it is a gift1 by whatsoever thou        
mightest be profited by me2  and in the 
name of ,god1 neglecting the command of 
,god to honour their  father and mother4
    ,there are men1 too1 who will       
neglect their households and leave their
  children unprovided for1 and even     
uneducated1 while they are spending     
their money on philanthropic or         

religious hobbies of their own4  ,it is 
ill to take the children's bread and    
cast it to the dogs2 or even to the     
angels4  ,it is ill1 ,i say1 trying to  
make ,god presents1 before we have      
tried to pay ,god our debts4  ,the first
 duty of every man is to the wife  whom 
he has married1 and to the children whom
 she has brought into the  world2 and to
 neglect them is not heroism1 but       
self-conceit2 the conceit  that a man is
 so necessary to ,almighty ,god1 that   
,god will actually allow  him to do     
wrong1 if ,he can only thereby secure   
the man's invaluable  services4  ,be    
sure that every motive which comes not  
from the single eye2  every motive which
 springs from self2 is by its very      
essence unheroic1  let it look as gaudy 
or as beneficent as it may4    ,but ,i  
cannot go so far as to say the same of  
the love of approbation--the  desire for
 the love and respect of our fellow-men4
    ,that must not be excluded from the 
list of heroic motives4  ,i know that   

it is1 or may be proved to be1 by       
victorious analysis1 an emotion common  
to us and the lower animals4  ,and yet  
no man excludes it less than that  true 
hero1 ,st4 ,paul4  ,if those brave      
,spartans1 if those brave ,germans1 of  
whom ,i spoke just now1 knew that their 
memories would be wept over and         
worshipped by brave men and fair women1 
and that their names would become       
watchwords to children in their         
fatherland3 what is that to us1 save    
that  it should make us rejoice1 if we  
be truly human1 that they had that      
thought with them in their last moments 
to make self-devotion more easy1  and   
death more sweet8    ,and yet--and      
yet--is not the highest heroism that    
which is free even from  the approbation
 of our fellow-men1 even from the       
approbation of the best  and wisest8    
,the heroism which is known only to our 
,father who seeth in  secret8  ,the     
,godlike deeds alone in the lonely      
chamber8  ,the ,godlike  lives lived in 

obscurity8--a heroism rare among us men1
 who live perforce  in the glare and    
noise of the outer world3 more common   
among women2 women  of whom the world   
never hears2 who1 if the world          
discovered them1 would  only draw the   
veil more closely over their faces and  
their hearts1 and  entreat to be left   
alone with ,god4  ,true1 they cannot    
always hide4  ,they  must not always    
hide2 or their fellow-creatures would   
lose the golden  lesson4  ,but1         
nevertheless1 it is of the essence of   
the perfect and  womanly heroism1 in    
which1 as in all spiritual forces1 woman
 transcends  the man1 that it would hide
 if it could4    ,and it was a pleasant 
thought to me1 when ,i glanced lately at
 the golden  deeds of woman in ,miss    
,yonge's book--it was a pleasant thought
 to me1  that ,i could say to           
myself--,ah6 yes4  ,these heroines are  
known1 and their  fame flies through the
 mouths of men4  ,but if so1 how many   
thousands of  heroines there must have  

been1 how many thousands there may be   
now1 of  whom we shall never know4  ,but
 still they are there4  ,they sow in    
secret  the seed of which we pluck the  
flower and eat the fruit1 and know not  
that we pass the sower daily in the     
street2 perhaps some humble ill-drest   
woman1 earning painfully her own small  
sustenance4  ,she who nurses a          
bedridden mother1 instead of sending her
 to the workhouse4  ,she who  spends her
 heart and her money on a drunken       
father1 a reckless brother1  on the     
orphans of a kinsman or a friend4  ,she 
who--,but why go on with the  long list 
of great little heroisms1 with which a  
clergyman at least comes  in contact    
daily--and it is one of the most        
ennobling privileges of a  clergyman's  
high calling that he does come in       
contact with them--why go  on1 ,i say1  
save to commemorate one more form of    
great little heroism--the  commonest1   
and yet the least remembered of         
all--namely1 the heroism of an  average 

mother8  ,ah1 when ,i think of that last
 broad fact1 ,i gather hope  again for  
poor humanity2 and this dark world looks
 bright1 this diseased  world looks     
wholesome to me once more--because1     
whatever else it is or is  not full of1 
it is at least full of mothers4         
,while the satirist only sneers1 as at a
 stock butt for his ridicule1 at  the   
managing mother trying to get her       
daughters married off her hands by      
chicaneries and meannesses1 which every 
novelist knows too well how to          
draw--would to heaven he1 or rather1    
alas6 she1 would find some more         
chivalrous employment for his or her    
pen--for were they not1 too1 born of    
woman8--,i only say to myself--having   
had always a secret fondness for  poor  
,rebecca1 though ,i love ,esau more than
 ,jacob--,let the poor thing  alone4    
,with pain she brought these girls into 
the world4  ,with pain she  educated    
them according to her light4  ,with pain
 she is trying to obtain  for them the  

highest earthly blessing of which she   
can conceive1 namely1  to be well       
married2 and if in doing that last1 she 
manoeuvres a little1  commits a few     
basenesses1 even tells a few untruths1  
what does all that  come to1 save       
this--that in the confused intensity of 
her motherly self-  sacrifice1 she will 
sacrifice for her daughters even her own
 conscience  and her own credit8  ,we   
may sneer1 if we will1 at such a poor   
hard-driven  soul when we meet her in   
society3 our duty1 both as ,christians  
and ladies  and gentlemen1 seems to me  
to be--to do for her something very     
different  indeed4    ,but to return4   
,looking at the amount of great little  
heroisms1 which are  being1 as ,i       
assert1 enacted around us every day1 no 
one has a right to  say1 what we are all
 tempted to say at times--,how can ,i be
 heroic8  ,this  is no heroic age1      
setting me heroic examples4  ,we are    
growing more and  more comfortable1     
frivolous1 pleasure-seeking1            

money-making2 more and  more            
utilitarian2 more and more mercenary in 
our politics1 in our morals1  in our    
religion2 thinking less and less of     
honour and duty1 and more and  more of  
loss and gain4  ,i am born into an      
unheroic time4  ,you must not  ask me to
 become heroic in it4    ,i do not deny 
that it is more difficult to be heroic1 
while circumstances  are unheroic round 
us4  ,we are all too apt to be the      
puppets of  circumstance2 all too apt to
 follow the fashion2 all too apt1 like  
so  many minnows1 to take our colour    
from the ground on which we lie1 in     
hopes1 like them1 of comfortable        
concealment1 lest the new tyrant deity1 
called public opinion1 should spy us    
out1 and1 like ,nebuchadnezzar of  old1 
cast us into a burning fiery            
furnace--which public opinion can make  
very hot--for daring to worship any god 
or man save the will of the  temporary  
majority4    ,yes1 it is difficult to be
 anything but poor1 mean1 insufficient1 

imperfect people1 as like each other as 
so many sheep2 and1 like so many  sheep1
 having no will or character of our own1
 but rushing altogether  blindly over   
the same gap1 in foolish fear of the    
same dog1 who1 after  all1 dare not bite
 us2 and so it always was and always    
will be4    ,for the third time ,i      
say1--          ,unless above himself he
 can     ,exalt himself1 how poor a     
thing is man4    ,but1 nevertheless1 any
 man or woman who will1 in any age and  
under any  circumstances1 can live the  
heroic life and exercise heroic         
influences4    ,if any ask proof of     
this1 ,i shall ask them1 in return1 to  
read two  novels2 novels1 indeed1 but1  
in their method and their moral1        
partaking  of that heroic and ideal     
element1 which will make them live1 ,i  
trust1  long after thousands of mere    
novels have returned to their native    
dust4  ,i  mean ,miss ,muloch's ',john  
,halifax1 ,gentleman1' and ,mr4         
,thackeray's  ',esmond1' two books which

 no man or woman ought to read without  
being the  nobler for them4    ',john   
,halifax1 ,gentleman1' is simply the    
history of a poor young clerk1  who     
rises to be a wealthy mill-owner in the 
manufacturing districts1 in  the early  
part of this century4  ,but he contrives
 to be an heroic and  ideal clerk1 and  
an heroic and ideal mill-owner2 and that
 without doing  anything which the world
 would call heroic or ideal1 or in      
anywise  stepping out of his sphere1    
minding simply his own business1 and    
doing  the duty which lies nearest him4 
,and how8  ,by getting into his head    
from  youth the strangest notion1 that  
in whatever station or business he may  
be1 he can always be what he considers a
 gentleman2 and that if he only  behaves
 like a gentleman1 all must go right at 
last4  ,a beautiful book4  ,as ,i said  
before1 somewhat of an heroic and ideal 
book4  ,a book which did  me good when  
first ,i read it2 which ought to do any 
young man good who  will read it1 and   

then try to be1 like ,john ,halifax1 a  
gentleman1 whether  in the shop1 the    
counting-house1 the bank1 or the        
manufactory4    ,the other--an even more
 striking instance of the possibility1  
at least1  of heroism anywhere and      
everywhere--is ,mr4 ,thackeray's        
',esmond4'  ,on the  meaning of that    
book ,i can speak with authority4  ,for 
my dear and  regretted friend told me   
himself that my interpretation of it was
 the  true one2 that this was the lesson
 which he meant men to learn therefrom4 
,esmond is a man of the first half of   
the eighteenth century2 living in a     
coarse1 drunken1 ignorant1 profligate1  
and altogether unheroic age4  ,he       
is--and here the high art and the high  
morality of ,mr4 ,thackeray's genius  is
 shown--altogether a man of his own age4
  ,he is not a sixteenth-century  or a  
nineteenth-century man born out of time4
  ,his information1 his  politics1 his  
religion1 are no higher than of those   
round him4  ,his  manners1 his views of 

human life1 his very prejudices and     
faults1 are  those of his age4  ,the    
temptations which he conquers are just  
those under  which the men around him   
fall4  ,but how does he conquer them8   
,by holding  fast throughout to honour1 
duty1 virtue4  ,thus1 and thus alone1 he
  becomes an ideal eighteenth-century   
gentleman1 an eighteenth-century  hero4 
,this was what ,mr4 ,thackeray          
meant--for he told me so himself1 ,i    
say--that it was possible1 even in      
,england's lowest and foulest times1 to 
be a gentleman and a hero1 if a man     
would but be true to the light within   
him4    ,but ,i will go further4  ,i    
will go from ideal fiction to actual1   
and yet  ideal1 fact2 and say that1 as  
,i read history1 the most unheroic age  
which  the civilized world ever saw was 
also the most heroic2 that the spirit of
  man triumphed most utterly over his   
circumstances1 at the very moment  when 
those circumstances were most against   
him4    ,how and why he did so is a     

question for philosophy in the highest  
sense  of that word4  ,the fact of his  
having done so is matter of history4    
,shall  ,i solve my own riddle8         
,then1 have we not heard of the early   
,christian martyrs8  ,is there a doubt  
that they1 unlettered men1 slaves1 weak 
women1 even children1 did  exhibit1     
under an infinite sense of duty1 issuing
 in infinite  self-sacrifice1 a heroism 
such as the world had never seen before2
 did  raise the ideal of human nobleness
 a whole stage--rather say1 a whole     
heaven--higher than before2 and that    
wherever the tale of their great  deeds 
spread1 men accepted1 even if they did  
not copy1 those martyrs as  ideal       
specimens of the human race1 till they  
were actually worshipped by  succeeding 
generations1 wrongly1 it may be1 but    
pardonably1 as a choir of  lesser       
deities8    ,but is there1 on the other 
hand1 a doubt that the age in which they
 were  heroic was the most unheroic of  
all ages2 that they were bred1 lived1   

and  died1 under the most debasing of   
materialist tyrannies1 with art1        
literature1 philosophy1 family and      
national life dying or dead around      
them1 and in cities the corruption of   
which cannot be told for very           
shame--cities1 compared with which      
,paris is the abode of ,arcadian        
simplicity and innocence8  ,when ,i read
 ,petronius and ,juvenal1 and  recollect
 that they were the contemporaries of   
the ,apostles2 when--to  give an        
instance which scholars1 and perhaps1   
happily1 only scholars1 can             
appreciate--,i glance once more at      
,trimalchio's feast1 and remember that  
within a mile of that feast ,st4 ,paul  
may have been preaching to a  ,christian
 congregation1 some of whom--for ,st4   
,paul makes no secret of  that strange  
fact--may have been1 ere their          
conversion1 partakers in just  such     
vulgar and bestial orgies as those which
 were going on in the rich  freedman's  
halls3 after that1 ,i say1 ,i can put no

 limit to the  possibility of man's     
becoming heroic1 even though he be      
surrounded by a  hell on earth2 no limit
 to the capacities of any human being to
 form for  himself or herself a high and
 pure ideal of human character2 and1    
without  playing fantastic tricks before
 high heaven1 to carry out that ideal in
  every-day life2 and in the most       
commonplace circumstances1 and the most 
menial occupations1 to live worthy      
of--as ,i conceive--our heavenly        
birthright1 and to imitate the heroes1  
who were the kinsmen of the gods4       
,,superstition4  ,a ,,lecture           
,,delivered ,,at ,,the ,,royal          
,,institution1 ,,london4      ,having   
accepted the very great honour of being 
allowed to deliver here  two lectures1  
,i have chosen as my subject            
,superstition and ,science4  ,it  is    
with ,superstition that this first      
lecture will deal4    ,the subject seems
 to me especially fit for a clergyman2  
for he should1  more than other men1 be 

able to avoid trenching on two subjects 
rightly  excluded from this             
,institution2 namely1 ,theology--that   
is1 the knowledge  of ,god2 and         
,religion--that is1 the knowledge of    
,duty4  ,if he knows1 as he  should1    
what is ,theology1 and what is          
,religion1 then he should best know     
what is not ,theology1 and what is not  
,religion4    ,for my own part1 ,i      
entreat you at the outset to keep in    
mind that these  lectures treat of      
matters entirely physical2 which have in
 reality1 and  ought to have in our     
minds1 no more to do with ,theology and 
,religion than  the proposition that    
theft is wrong1 has to do with the      
proposition that  the three angles of a 
triangle are equal to two right angles4 
,it is necessary to premise this1       
because many are of opinion that        
superstition is a corruption of         
religion2 and though they would agree   
that as such1 corruptio optimi pessima1 
yet they would look on religion  as the 

state of spiritual health1 and          
superstition as one of spiritual        
disease4    ,others1 again1 holding the 
same notion1 but not considering that   
corruptio optimi pessima1 have been in  
all ages somewhat inclined to be        
merciful to superstition1 as a child of 
reverence2 as a mere accidental         
misdirection of one of the noblest and  
most wholesome faculties of man4        
,this is not the place wherein to argue 
with either of these parties2 and  ,i   
shall simply say that superstition seems
 to me altogether a physical  affection1
 as thoroughly material and corporeal as
 those of eating or  sleeping1          
remembering or dreaming4    ,after this1
 it will be necessary to define         
superstition1 in order to have  some    
tolerably clear understanding of what we
 are talking about4  ,i beg  leave to   
define it as--,fear of the unknown4     
,johnson1 who was no dialectician1 and1 
moreover1 superstitious enough  himself1
 gives eight different definitions of   

the word2 which is  equivalent to       
confessing his inability to define it at
 all3--    #a4  ,unnecessary fear or    
scruples in religion2 observance of     
unnecessary  and uncommanded rites or   
practices2 religion without morality4   
#b4  ,false religion2 reverence of      
beings not proper objects of reverence2 
false worship4    #c4  ,over nicety2    
exactness too scrupulous4    ,eight     
meanings2 which1 on the principle that  
eight eighths1 or indeed  #hjj1 do not  
make one whole1 may be considered as no 
definition4  ,his  first thought1 as    
often happens1 is the best--,unnecessary
 fear4  ,but  after that he wanders4    
,the root-meaning of the word is still  
to seek4  ,but1 indeed1 the popular     
meaning1 thanks to popular common sense1
 will  generally be found to contain in 
itself the root-meaning4    ,let us go  
back to the ,latin word ,superstitio4   
,cicero says that the  superstitious    
element consists in a certain empty     
dread of the gods--a  purely physical   

affection1 if you will remember three   
things3--    #a4  ,that dread is in     
itself a physical affection4    #b4     
,that the gods who were dreaded were1   
with the vulgar1 who alone  dreaded     
them1 merely impersonations of the      
powers of nature4    #c4  ,that it was  
physical injury which these gods were   
expected to  inflict4    ,but he himself
 agrees with this theory of mine2 for he
 says shortly  after1 that not only     
philosophers1 but even the ancient      
,romans1 had  separated superstition    
from religion2 and that the word was    
first applied  to those who prayed all  
day ut liberi sui sibi superstites      
essent--might  survive them4  ,on the   
etymology no one will depend who knows  
the  remarkable absence of any          
etymological instinct in the ancients1  
in  consequence of their weak grasp of  
that sound inductive method which has   
created modern criticism4  ,but if it be
 correct1 it is a natural and  pathetic 
form for superstition to take in the    

minds of men who saw their  children    
fade and die2 probably the greater      
number of them beneath  diseases which  
mankind could neither comprehend nor    
cure4    ,the best exemplification of   
what the ancients meant by superstition 
is to  be found in the lively and       
dramatic words of ,aristotle's great    
pupil1  ,theophrastus4    ,the          
superstitious man1 according to him1    
after having washed his hands  with     
lustral water--that is1 water in which a
 torch from the altar had  been         
quenched1 goes about with a laurel-leaf 
in his mouth1 to keep off  evil         
influences1 as the pigs in ,devonshire  
used1 in my youth1 to go about  with a  
withe of mountain ash round their necks 
to keep off the evil eye4  ,if a weasel 
crosses his path1 he stops1 and either  
throws three pebbles  into the road1 or1
 with the innate selfishness of fear1   
lets some one  else go before him1 and  
attract to himself the harm which may   
ensue4  ,he  has a similar dread of a   

screech-owl1 whom he compliments in the 
name of  its mistress1 ,pallas ,athene4 
,if he finds a serpent in his house1 he 
sets  up an altar to it4  ,if he pass at
 a four-cross-way an anointed stone1 he 
pours oil on it1 kneels down1 and adores
 it4  ,if a rat has nibbled one of  his 
sacks he takes it for a fearful         
portent--a superstition which ,cicero   
also mentions4  ,he dare not sit on a   
tomb1 because it would be assisting  at 
his own funeral4  ,he purifies endlessly
 his house1 saying that  ,hecate--that  
is1 the moon--has exercised some malign 
influence on it2 and  many other        
purifications he observes1 of which ,i  
shall only say that they  are by their  
nature plainly1 like the last1 meant as 
preservatives  against unseen malarias  
or contagions1 possible or impossible4  
,he  assists every month with his       
children at the mysteries of the ,orphic
  priests2 and finally1 whenever he sees
 an epileptic patient1 he spits in  his 
own bosom to avert the evil omen4    ,i 

have quoted1 ,i believe1 every fact     
given by ,theophrastus2 and you will    
agree1 ,i am sure1 that the moving and  
inspiring element of such a  character  
is mere bodily fear of unknown evil4    
,the only superstition  attributed to   
him which does not at first sight seem  
to have its root in  dread is that of   
the ,orphic mysteries4  ,but of them    
,muller says that the  ,dionusos whom   
they worshipped was an infernal deity1  
connected with  ,hades1 and was the     
personification1 not merely of rapturous
 pleasure1 but  of a deep sorrow for the
 miseries of human life4  ,the ,orphic  
societies  of ,greece seem to have been 
peculiarly ascetic1 taking no animal    
food  save raw flesh from the sacrificed
 ox of ,dionusos4  ,and ,plato speaks of
 a  lower grade of ,orphic priests1     
,orpheotelestai1 who used to come before
  the doors of the rich1 and promise1 by
 sacrifices and expiatory songs1 to     
release them from their own sins1 and   
those of their forefathers2 and  such   

would be but too likely to get a hearing
 from the man who was afraid  of a      
weasel or an owl4    ,now1 this same    
bodily fear1 ,i verily believe1 will be 
found at the root  of all superstition  
whatsoever4    ,but be it so4  ,fear is 
a natural passion1 and a wholesome one4 
,without  the instinct of               
self-preservation1 which causes the     
sea-anemone to  contract its tentacles1 
or the fish to dash into its hover1     
species would  be extermined wholesale  
by involuntary suicide4    ,yes2 fear is
 wholesome enough1 like all other       
faculties1 as long as it is  controlled 
by reason4  ,but what if the fear be not
 rational1 but  irrational8  ,what if it
 be1 in plain homely ,english1 blind    
fear2 fear of  the unknown1 simply      
because it is unknown8  ,is it not      
likely1 then1 to be  afraid of the wrong
 object8 to be hurtful1 ruinous to      
animals as well as  to man8  ,any one   
will confess that1 who has ever seen a  
horse inflict on  himself mortal        

injuries1 in his frantic attempts to    
escape from a quite  imaginary danger4  
,i have good reasons for believing that 
not only  animals here and there1 but   
whole flocks and swarms of them1 are    
often  destroyed1 even in the wild      
state1 by mistaken fear2 by such panics1
 for  instance1 as cause a whole herd of
 buffalos to rush over a bluff1 and be  
dashed to pieces4  ,and remark that this
 capacity of panic1 fear--of            
superstition1 as ,i should call it--is  
greatest in those animals1 the dog  and 
the horse for instance1 which have the  
most rapid and vivid fancy4  ,does not  
the unlettered ,highlander say all that 
,i want to say1 when he  attributes to  
his dog and his horse1 on the strength  
of these very  manifestations of fear1  
the capacity of seeing ghosts and       
fairies before  he can see them himself8
    ,but blind fear not only causes evil
 to the coward himself3 it makes him a  
source of evil to others2 for it is the 
cruellest of all human states4  ,it     

transforms the man into the likeness of 
the cat1 who1 when she is caught  in a  
trap1 or shut up in a room1 has too low 
an intellect to understand  that you    
wish to release her2 and1 in the madness
 of terror1 bites and  tears at the hand
 which tries to do her good4  ,yes2 very
 cruel is blind  fear4  ,when a man     
dreads he knows not what1 he will do he 
cares not what4  ,when he dreads        
desperately1 he will act desperately4   
,when he dreads  beyond all reason1 he  
will behave beyond all reason4  ,he has 
no law of  guidance left1 save the      
lowest selfishness4  ,no law of         
guidance3 and yet  his intellect1 left  
unguided1 may be rapid and acute enough 
to lead him  into terrible follies4     
,infinitely more imaginative than the   
lowest  animals1 he is for that very    
reason capable of being infinitely more 
foolish1 more cowardly1 more            
superstitious4  ,he can--what the lower 
animals1 happily for them1              
cannot--organise his folly2 erect his   

superstitions into a science2 and create
 a whole mythology out of his  blind    
fear of the unknown4  ,and when he has  
done that--,woe to the weak6  ,for when 
he has reduced his superstition to a    
science1 then he will  reduce his       
cruelty to a science likewise1 and write
 books like the  ,malleus ,maleficarum1 
and the rest of the witch-literature of 
the  fifteenth1 sixteenth1 and          
seventeenth centuries2 of which ,mr4    
,lecky has  of late told the world so   
much1 and told it most faithfully and   
most  fairly4    ,but1 fear of the      
unknown8  ,is not that fear of the      
unseen world8  ,and is  not that fear of
 the spiritual world8  ,pardon me3 a    
great deal of that  fear--all of it1    
indeed1 which is superstition--is simply
 not fear of the  spiritual1 but of the 
material2 and of nothing else4    ,the  
spiritual world--,i beg you to fix this 
in your minds--is not merely  an        
invisible world which may become        
visible1 but an invisible world which   

is by its essence invisible2 a moral    
world1 a world of right and wrong4  ,and
 spiritual fear--which is one of the    
noblest of all affections1 as  bodily   
fear is one of the basest--is1 if       
properly defined1 nothing less  or more 
than the fear of doing wrong2 of        
becoming a worse man4    ,but what has  
that to do with mere fear of the unseen8
  ,the fancy which  conceives the fear  
is physical1 not spiritual4  ,think for 
yourselves4  ,what difference is there  
between a savage's fear of a demon1 and 
a  hunter's fear of a fall8  ,the hunter
 sees a fence4  ,he does not know what  
is on the other side3 but he has seen   
fences like it with a great ditch  on   
the other side1 and suspects one here   
likewise4  ,he has seen horses  fall at 
such1 and men hurt thereby4  ,he        
pictures to himself his horse  falling  
at that fence1 himself rolling in the   
ditch1 with possibly a  broken limb2 and
 he recoils from the picture he himself 
has made2 and  perhaps with very good   

reason4  ,his picture may have its      
counterpart in  fact2 and he may break  
his leg4  ,but his picture1 like the    
previous  pictures from which it was    
compounded1 is simply a physical        
impression on  the brain1 just as much  
as those in dreams4    ,now1 does the   
fact of the ditch1 the fall1 and the    
broken leg1 being  unseen and unknown1  
make them a spiritual ditch1 a spiritual
 fall1 a  spiritual broken leg8  ,and   
does the fact of the demon and his      
doings1  being as yet unseen and        
unknown1 make them spiritual1 or the    
harm that he  may do1 a spiritual harm8 
,what does the savage fear8  ,lest the  
demon  should appear2 that is1 become   
obvious to his physical senses1 and     
produce an unpleasant physical effect on
 them4  ,he fears lest the fiend  should
 entice him into the bog1 break the     
hand-bridge over the brook1  turn into a
 horse and ride away with him1 or jump  
out from behind a tree  and wring his   
neck--tolerably hard physical facts1 all

 of them2 the  children of physical     
fancy1 regarded with physical dread4    
,even if the  superstition proved true2 
even if the demon did appear2 even if he
 wrung  the traveller's neck in sound   
earnest1 there would be no more         
spiritual  agency or phenomenon in the  
whole tragedy than there is in the      
parlour  table1 when spiritual          
somethings make spiritual raps upon     
spiritual wood2  and human beings1 who  
are really spirits--and would to heaven 
they would  remember that fact1 and what
 it means--believe that anything has    
happened  beyond a clumsy juggler's     
trick4    ,you demur8  ,do you not see  
that the demon1 by the mere fact of     
having  produced physical consequences1 
would have become himself a physical    
agent1 a member of physical ,nature1 and
 therefore to be explained1 he and  his 
doings1 by physical laws8  ,if you do   
not see that conclusion at first  sight1
 think over it till you do4    ,it may  
seem to some that ,i have founded my    

theory on a very narrow basis2  that ,i 
am building up an inverted pyramid2 or  
that1 considering the  numberless1      
complex1 fantastic shapes which         
superstition has assumed1  bodily fear  
is too simple to explain them all4      
,but if those persons will think a      
second time1 they must agree that my    
base is as broad as the phenomena which 
it explains2 for every man is  capable  
of fear4  ,and they will see1 too1 that 
the cause of superstition  must be      
something like fear1 which is common to 
all men3 for all1 at  least as children1
 are capable of superstition2 and that  
it must be  something which1 like fear1 
is of a most simple1 rudimentary1       
barbaric  kind2 for the lowest savage1  
of whatever he is not capable1 is still 
superstitious1 often to a very ugly     
degree4  ,superstition seems1 indeed1   
to be1 next to the making of            
stone-weapons1 the earliest method of   
asserting his superiority to the brutes 
which has occurred to that  utterly     

abnormal and fantastic lusus naturae    
called man4    ,now let us put ourselves
 awhile1 as far as we can1 in the place 
of that  same savage2 and try whether my
 theory will not justify itself2 whether
  or not superstition1 with all its     
vagaries1 may have been1 indeed must    
have been1 the result of that ignorance 
and fear which he carried about  with   
him1 every time he prowled for food     
through the primeval forest4    ,a      
savage's first division of nature would 
be1 ,i should say1 into things  which he
 can eat1 and things which can eat him2 
including1 of course1 his  most         
formidable enemy1 and most savoury      
food--his fellow-man4  ,in finding  out 
what he can eat1 we must remember1 he   
will have gone through much  experience 
which will have inspired him with a     
serious respect for the  hidden wrath of
 nature2 like those ,himalayan folk1 of 
whom ,hooker says1  that as they know   
every poisonous plant1 they must have   
tried them  all--not always with        

impunity4    ,so he gets at a third     
class of objects--things which he cannot
 eat1 and  which will not eat him2 but  
will only do him harm1 as it seems to   
him1  out of pure malice1 like poisonous
 plants and serpents4  ,there are       
natural accidents1 too1 which fall into 
the same category1 stones1  floods1     
fires1 avalanches4  ,they hurt him or   
kill him1 surely for ends of  their own4
  ,if a rock falls from the cliff above 
him1 what more natural  than to suppose 
that there is some giant up there who   
threw it at him8  ,if  he had been up   
there1 and strong enough1 and had seen a
 man walking  underneath1 he would      
certainly have thrown the stone at him  
and killed  him4  ,for first1 he might  
have eaten the man after2 and even if he
 were  not hungry1 the man might have   
done him a mischief2 and it was prudent 
to  prevent that1 by doing him a        
mischief first4  ,besides1 the man might
 have  a wife2 and if he killed the man1
 then the wife would1 by a very ancient 

law common to man and animals1 become   
the prize of the victor4  ,such is  the 
natural man1 the carnal man1 the soulish
 man1 the ,greek text of ,st4  ,paul1   
with five tolerably acute senses1 which 
are ruled by five very  acute animal    
passions--hunger1 sex1 rage1 vanity1    
fear4  ,it is with the  working of the  
last passion1 fear1 that this lecture   
has to do4    ,so the savage concludes  
that there must be a giant living in the
 cliff1  who threw stones at him1 with  
evil intent2 and he concludes in like   
wise  concerning most other natural     
phenomena4  ,there is something in them 
which will hurt him1 and therefore likes
 to hurt him3 and if he cannot  destroy 
them1 and so deliver himself1 his fear  
of them grows quite  boundless4  ,there 
are hundreds of natural objects on which
 he learns to  look with the same eyes  
as the little boys of ,teneriffe look on
 the  useless and poisonous ,euphorbia  
canariensis4  ,it is to them--according 
to ,mr4 ,piazzi ,smyth--a demon who     

would kill them1 if it could only run   
after them2 but as it cannot1 they shout
 ,spanish curses at it1 and pelt  it    
with volleys of stones1 screeching with 
elfin joy1 and using worse  names than  
ever1 when the poisonous milk spurts out
 from its bruised  stalks4    ,and if   
such be the attitude of the uneducated  
man towards the permanent  terrors of   
nature1 what will it be towards those   
which are sudden and  seemingly         
capricious8--towards storms1            
earthquakes1 floods1 blights1           
pestilences8  ,we know too well what it 
has been--one of blind1 and  therefore  
often cruel1 fear4  ,how could it be    
otherwise8  ,was  ,theophrastus's       
superstitious man so very foolish for   
pouring oil on every  round stone8  ,i  
think there was a great deal to be said 
for him4  ,this  worship of ,baetyli was
 rational enough4  ,they were aerolites1
 fallen from  heaven4  ,was it not as   
well to be civil to such messengers from
 above8--to  testify by homage to them  

due awe of the being who had thrown them
 at  men1 and who though he had missed  
his shot that time1 might not miss it   
the next8  ,i think if we1 knowing      
nothing of either gunpowder1 astronomy1 
or ,christianity1 saw an ,armstrong bolt
 fall within five miles of ,london1  we 
should be inclined to be very respectful
 to it indeed4  ,so the  aerolites1 or  
glacial boulders1 or polished stone     
weapons of an extinct  race1 which      
looked like aerolites1 were the children
 of ,ouranos the  heaven1 and had souls 
in them4  ,one1 by one of those strange 
transformations in which the logic of   
unreason indulges1 the image of  ,diana 
of the ,ephesians1 which fell down from 
,jupiter2 another was the  ,ancile1 the 
holy shield which fell from the same    
place in the days of  ,numa ,pompilius1 
and was the guardian genius of ,rome2   
and several more  became notable for    
ages4    ,why not8  ,the uneducated man 
of genius1 unacquainted alike with      
metaphysics and with biology1 sees1 like

 a child1 a personality in every        
strange and sharply-defined object4  ,a 
cloud like an angel may be an  angel2 a 
bit of crooked root like a man may be a 
man turned into  wood--perhaps to be    
turned back again at its own will4  ,an 
erratic block  has arrived where it is  
by strange unknown means4  ,is not that 
an  evidence of its personality8        
,either it has flown hither itself1 or  
some  one has thrown it4  ,in the former
 case1 it has life1 and is              
proportionally formidable2 in the       
latter1 he who had thrown it is         
formidable4    ,i know two erratic      
blocks of porphyry--,i believe there are
 three--in  ,cornwall1 lying one on     
serpentine1 one1 ,i think1 on slate1    
which--so ,i  was always informed as a  
boy--were the stones which ,st4 ,kevern 
threw  after ,st4 ,just when the latter 
stole his host's chalice and paten1 and 
ran away with them to the ,land's ,end4 
,why not8  ,before we knew anything     
about the action of icebergs and        

glaciers1 that is1 until the last eighty
  years1 that was as good a story as any
 other2 while how lifelike these        
boulders are1 let a great poet testify2 
for the fact has not escaped the        
delicate eye of ,wordsworth3       ,as a
 huge stone is sometimes seen to lie    
,couched on the bald top of an eminence2
     ,wonder to all who do the same     
espy1     ,by what means it could       
thither come1 and whence1     ,so that  
it seems a thing endued with sense2     
,like a sea-beast crawled forth1 that on
 a shelf     ,of rock or sand reposeth1 
there to sun itself4    ,to the         
civilised poet1 the fancy becomes a     
beautiful simile2 to a savage  poet1 it 
would have become a material and a very 
formidable fact4  ,he  stands in the    
valley1 and looks up at the boulder on  
the far-off fells4  ,he is puzzled by   
it4  ,he fears it4  ,at last he makes up
 his mind4  ,it is  alive4  ,as the     
shadows move over it1 he sees it move4  
,may it not sleep  there all day1 and   

prowl for prey all night8  ,he had been 
always afraid  of going up those fells2 
now he will never go4  ,there is a      
monster there4    ,childish enough1 no  
doubt4  ,but remember that the savage is
 always a  child4  ,so1 indeed1 are     
millions1 as well clothed1 housed1 and  
policed as  ourselves--children from the
 cradle to the grave4  ,but of them ,i  
do not  talk2 because1 happily for the  
world1 their childishness is so overlaid
  by the result of other men's manhood2 
by an atmosphere of civilisation  and   
,christianity which they have accepted  
at second-hand as the  conclusions of   
minds wiser than their own1 that they do
 all manner of  reasonable things for   
bad reasons1 or for no reason at all1   
save the  passion of imitation4  ,not in
 them1 but in the savage1 can we see man
 as  he is by nature1 the puppet of his 
senses and his passions1 the natural    
slave of his own fears4    ,but has the 
savage no other faculties1 save his five
 senses and five  passions8  ,i do not  

say that4  ,i should be most            
unphilosophical if ,i said  it2 for the 
history of mankind proves that he has   
infinitely more in him  than that4      
,yes3 but in him that infinite more1    
which is not only the  noblest part of  
humanity2 but1 it may be1 humanity      
itself1 is not to be  counted as one of 
the roots of superstition4  ,for in the 
savage man1 in  whom superstition       
certainly originates1 that infinite more
 is still  merely in him2 inside him2 a 
faculty3 but not yet a fact4  ,it has   
not  come out of him into consciousness1
 purpose1 and act2 and is to be  treated
 as non-existent3 while what has come   
out1 his passions and  senses1 is enough
 to explain all the vagaries of         
superstition2 a vera  causa for all its 
phenomena4  ,and if we seem to have     
found a sufficient  explanation already1
 it is unphilosophical to look further1 
at least till  we have tried whether our
 explanation fits the facts4            
,nevertheless1 there is another faculty 

in the savage1 to which ,i have  already
 alluded1 common to him and to at least 
the higher  vertebrates--fancy2 the     
power of reproducing internal images of 
external  objects1 whether in its waking
 form of physical memory--if1 indeed1   
all  memory be not physical--or in its  
sleeping form of dreaming4  ,upon this  
last1 which has played so very important
 a part in superstition in all  ages1 ,i
 beg you to think a moment4  ,recollect 
your own dreams during  childhood2 and  
recollect again that the savage is      
always a child4  ,recollect how         
difficult it was for you in childhood1  
how difficult it  must be always for the
 savage1 to decide whether dreams are   
phantasms or  realities4  ,to the       
savage1 ,i doubt not1 the food he eats1 
the foes he  grapples with1 in dreams1  
are as real as any waking impressions4  
,but1  moreover1 these dreams will be   
very often1 as children's dreams are    
wont  to be1 of a painful and terrible  
kind4  ,perhaps they will be always     

painful2 perhaps his dull brain will    
never dream1 save under the  influence  
of indigestion1 or hunger1 or an        
uncomfortable attitude4  ,and  so1 in   
addition to his waking experience of the
 terrors of nature1 he  will have a     
whole dream-experience besides1 of a    
still more terrific  kind4  ,he walks by
 day past a black cavern mouth1 and     
thinks1 with a  shudder--,something ugly
 may live in that ugly hole3 what if it 
jumped out  upon me8  ,he broods over   
the thought with the intensity of a     
narrow and  unoccupied mind2 and a few  
nights after1 he has eaten--but let us  
draw a  veil before the larder of a     
savage--his chin is pinned down on his  
chest1  a slight congestion of the brain
 comes on2 and behold he finds himself  
again at that cavern's mouth1 and       
something ugly does jump out upon him3  
and the cavern is a haunted spot        
henceforth to him and to all his tribe4 
,it is in vain that his family tell him 
that he has been lying asleep at  home  

all the while4  ,he has the evidence of 
his senses to prove the  contrary4  ,he 
must have got out of himself1 and gone  
into the woods4  ,when  we remember that
 certain wise ,greek philosophers could 
find no better  explanation of dreaming 
than that the soul left the body1 and   
wandered  free1 we cannot condemn the   
savage for his theory4  ,now1 ,i submit 
that in  these simple facts we have a   
group of true causes which are the roots
  of all the superstitions of the world4
    ,and if any one shall complain that 
,i am talking materialism3 ,i shall     
answer1 that ,i am doing exactly the    
opposite4  ,i am trying to eliminate    
and get rid of that which is material1  
animal1 and base2 in order that  that   
which is truly spiritual may stand out1 
distinct and clear1 in its  divine and  
eternal beauty4    ,to explain1 and at  
the same time1 as ,i think1 to verify my
 hypothesis1  let me give you an        
example--fictitious1 it is true1 but    
probable fact  nevertheless2 because it 

is patched up of many fragments of      
actual fact3  and let us see how1 in    
following it out1 we shall pass through 
almost  every possible form of          
superstition4    ,suppose a great hollow
 tree1 in which the formidable wasps of 
the tropics  have built for ages4  ,the 
average savage hurries past the spot in 
mere  bodily fear2 for if they come out 
against him1 they will sting him to     
death2 till at last there comes by a    
savage wiser than the rest1 with  more  
observation1 reflection1 imagination1   
independence of will--the  genius of his
 tribe4    ,the awful shade of the great
 tree1 added to his terror of the wasps1
  weighs on him1 and excites his brain4 
,perhaps1 too1 he has had a wife or  a  
child stung to death by these same      
wasps4  ,these wasps1 so small1 yet  so 
wise1 far wiser than he3 they fly1 and  
they sting4  ,ah1 if he could  fly and  
sting2 how he would kill and eat1 and   
live right merrily4  ,they  build great 
towns2 they rob far and wide2 they never

 quarrel with each  other3 they must    
have some one to teach them1 to lead    
them--they must  have a king4  ,and so  
he gets the fancy of a ,wasp-,king2 as  
the western  ,irish still believe in the
 ,master ,otter2 as the ,red ,men       
believe in the  ,king of the ,buffalos1 
and find the bones of his ancestors in  
the ,mammoth  remains of ,big-bone      
,lick2 as the ,philistines of ,ekron--to
 quote a  notorious instance--actually  
worshipped ,baal-zebub1 lord of the     
flies4    ,if they have a king1 he must 
be inside that tree1 of course4  ,if he1
 the  savage1 were a king1 he would not 
work for his bread1 but sit at home and 
make others feed him2 and so1 no doubt1 
does the wasp-king4    ,and when he goes
 home he will brood over this wonderful 
discovery of the  wasp-king2 till1 like 
a child1 he can think of nothing else4  
,he will go  to the tree1 and watch for 
him to come out4  ,the wasps will get   
accustomed to his motionless figure1 and
 leave him unhurt2 till the new  fancy  

will rise in his mind that he is a      
favourite of this wasp-king3 and  at    
last he will find himself grovelling    
before the tree1 saying--,oh  great     
wasp-king1 pity me1 and tell your       
children not to sting me1 and ,i  will  
bring you honey1 and fruit1 and flowers 
to eat1 and ,i will flatter  you1 and   
worship you1 and you shall be my king4  
,and then he would gradually boast of   
his discovery2 of the new mysterious    
bond between him and the wasp-king2 and 
his tribe would believe him1 and  fear  
him2 and fear him still more when he    
began to say1 as he surely  would1 not  
merely--,i can ask the wasp-king1 and he
 will tell his  children not to sting   
you3 but--,i can ask the wasp-king1 and 
he will  send his children1 and sting   
you all to death4  ,vanity and ambition 
will  have prompted the threat3 but it  
will not be altogether a lie4  ,the man 
will more than half believe his own     
words2 he will quite believe them  when 
he has repeated them a dozen times4     

,and so he will become a great man1 and 
a king1 under the protection of  the    
king of the wasps2 and he will become1  
and it may be his children  after him1  
priest of the wasp-king1 who will be    
their fetish1 and the  fetish of their  
tribe4    ,and they will prosper1 under 
the protection of the wasp-king4  ,the  
wasp  will become their moral ideal1    
whose virtues they must copy4  ,the new 
chief will preach to them wild eloquent 
words4  ,they must sting like  wasps1   
revenge like wasps1 hold all together   
like wasps1 build like  wasps1 work hard
 like wasps1 rob like wasps2 then1 like 
the wasps1 they  will be the terror of  
all around1 and kill and eat all their  
enemies4  ,soon they will call          
themselves ,the ,wasps4  ,they will     
boast that their  king's father or      
grandfather1 and soon that the ancestor 
of the whole  tribe1 was an actual wasp2
 and the wasp will become at once their 
eponym  hero1 their deity1 their ideal1 
their civiliser2 who has taught them to 

build a kraal of huts1 as he taught his 
children to build a hive4    ,now1 if   
there should come to any thinking man of
 this tribe1 at this  epoch1 the new    
thought--,who made the world8 he will be
 sorely puzzled4  ,the conception of a  
world has never crossed his mind before4
  ,he never  pictured to himself        
anything beyond the nearest ridge of    
mountains2 and  as for a ,maker1 that   
will be a greater puzzle still4  ,what  
makers or  builders more cunning than   
those wasps of whom his foolish head is 
full8  ,of course1 he sees it now4  ,a  
,wasp made the world2 which to him      
entirely  new guess might become an     
integral part of his tribe's creed4     
,that would  be their cosmogony4  ,and  
if1 a generation or two after1 another  
savage  genius should guess that the    
world was a globe hanging in the        
heavens1 he  would1 if he had           
imagination enough to take the thought  
in at all1 put it  to himself in a form 
suited to his previous knowledge and    

conceptions4  ,it  would seem to him    
that ,the ,wasp flew about the skies    
with the world in  his mouth1 as he     
carries a bluebottle fly2 and that would
 be the  astronomy of his tribe         
henceforth4  ,absurd enough2 but--as    
every man who  is acquainted with old   
mythical cosmogonies must know--no more 
absurd  than twenty similar guesses on  
record4  ,try to imagine the gradual    
genesis of such myths as the ,egyptian  
scarabaeus and egg1 or the ,hindoo      
theory that the world stood on an       
elephant1 the elephant on a tortoise1   
the tortoise on that infinite note of   
interrogation which1 as some one        
expresses it1 underlies all physical    
speculations1 and judge3 must they  not 
have arisen in some such fashion as that
 which ,i have pointed out8    ,this1 ,i
 say1 would be the culminating point of 
the wasp-worship1 which  had sprung up  
out of bodily fear of being stung4      
,but times might come for it in which it
 would go through various changes1      

through which every superstition in the 
world1 ,i suppose1 has passed or  is    
doomed to pass4    ,the wasp-men might  
be conquered1 and possibly eaten1 by a  
stronger tribe  than themselves4  ,what 
would be the result8  ,they would fight 
valiantly  at first1 like wasps4  ,but  
what if they began to fail8  ,was not   
the wasp-  king angry with them8  ,had  
not he deserted them8  ,he must be      
appeased2 he  must have his revenge4    
,they would take a captive1 and offer   
him to the  wasps4  ,so did a ,north    
,american tribe1 in their need1 some    
forty years  ago2 when1 because their   
maize-crops failed1 they roasted alive a
 captive  girl1 cut her to pieces1 and  
sowed her with their corn4  ,i would not
 tell  the story1 for the horror of it1 
did it not bear with such fearful force 
on my argument4  ,what were those ,red  
,men thinking of8  ,what chain of       
misreasoning had they in their heads    
when they hit on that as a device  for  
making the crops grow8  ,who can tell8  

,who can make the crooked  straight1 or 
number that which is wanting8  ,as said 
,solomon of old1 so  must we--,the      
foolishness of fools is folly4  ,one    
thing only we can say  of them1 that    
they were horribly afraid of famine1 and
 took that means of  ridding themselves 
of their fear4    ,but what if the      
wasp-tribe had no captives8  ,they would
 offer slaves4  ,what if the agony and  
death of slaves did not appease the     
wasps8  ,they  would offer their        
fairest1 their dearest1 their sons and  
their daughters1  to the wasps2 as the  
,carthaginians1 in like strait1 offered 
in one day  #bjj noble boys to ,moloch1 
the volcano-god1 whose worship they had 
brought  out of ,syria2 whose original  
meaning they had probably forgotten2 of 
whom  they only knew that he was a dark 
and devouring being1 who must be        
appeased with the burning bodies of     
their sons and daughters4  ,and so the  
veil of fancy would be lifted again1 and
 the whole superstition stand  forth    

revealed as the mere offspring of bodily
 fear4    ,but more2 the survivors of   
the conquest might1 perhaps1 escape1 and
 carry  their wasp-fetish into a new    
land4  ,but if they became poor and     
weakly1  their brains and imagination1  
degenerating with their bodies1 would   
degrade their wasp-worship till they    
knew not what it meant4  ,away from  the
 sacred tree1 in a country the wasps of 
which were not so large or  formidable1 
they would require a remembrancer of the
 wasp-king2 and they  would make one--a 
wasp of wood1 or what not4  ,after a    
while1 according to  that strange law of
 fancy1 the root of all idolatry1 which 
you may see at  work in every child who 
plays with a doll1 the symbol would     
become  identified with the thing       
symbolised2 they would invest the wooden
 wasp  with all the terrible attributes 
which had belonged to the live wasps of 
the tree2 and after a few centuries1    
when all remembrance of the tree1  the  
wasp-prophet and chieftain1 and his     

descent from the divine wasp--aye1  even
 of their defeat and flight--had        
vanished from their songs and  legends1 
they would be found bowing down in fear 
and trembling to a  little ancient      
wooden wasp1 which came from they knew  
not whence1 and  meant they knew not    
what1 save that it was a very old       
fetish1 a great  medicine1 or some such 
other formula for expressing their own  
ignorance  and dread4  ,just so do the  
half-savage natives of ,thibet1 and the 
,irishwomen of ,kerry1 by a strange     
coincidence--unless the ancient ,irish  
were ,buddhists1 like the               
,himalayans--tie just the same scraps of
 rag on  arise1 and show men that they  
are not the puppets of ,nature1 but her 
lords2 and that they are to fear ,god1  
and fear naught else4    ,and so ends my
 true myth of the wasp-tree4  ,no1 it   
need not end there2 it  may develop into
 a yet darker and more hideous form of  
superstition1  which ,europe has often  
seen2 which is common now among the     

,negros2 #bef  which1 we may hope1 will 
soon be exterminated4    ,this might    
happen4  ,for it1 or something like it1 
has happened too many  times already4   
,that to the ancient women who still    
kept up the irrational remnant of the   
wasp-worship1 beneath the sacred tree1  
other women might resort2 not  merely   
from curiosity1 or an excited           
imagination1 but from jealousy and      
revenge4  ,oppressed1 as woman has      
always been under the reign of brute    
force2 beaten1 outraged1 deserted1 at   
best married against her will1 she  has 
too often gone for comfort and help--and
 those of the very darkest  kind--to the
 works of darkness2 and there never were
 wanting--there are  not wanting1 even  
now1 in remote parts of these           
isles--wicked old women  who would1 by  
help of the old superstitions1 do for   
her what she wished4  ,soon would follow
 mysterious deaths of rivals1 of        
husbands1 of babes2  then rumours of    
dark rites connected with the sacred    

tree1 with poison1  with the wasp and   
his sting1 with human sacrifices2 lies  
mingled with  truth1 more and more      
confused and frantic1 the more they were
  misinvestigated by men mad with fear3 
till there would arise one of those     
witch-manias1 which are too common still
 among the ,african ,negros1 which  were
 too common of old among the men of our 
race4    ,i say1 among the men4  ,to    
comprehend a witch-mania1 you must look 
at it  as--what the witch-literature    
confesses it unblushingly to be--man's  
dread of ,nature excited to its highest 
form1 as dread of woman4    ,she is to  
the barbarous man--she should be more   
and more to the civilised  man--not only
 the most beautiful and precious1 but   
the most wonderful and  mysterious of   
all natural objects1 if it be only as   
the author of his  physical being4  ,she
 is to the savage a miracle to be       
alternately adored  and dreaded4  ,he   
dreads her more delicate nervous        
organisation1 which  often takes shapes 

to him demoniacal and miraculous2 her   
quicker  instincts1 her readier wit1    
which seem to him to have in them       
somewhat  prophetic and superhuman1     
which entangle him as in an invisible   
net1 and  rule him against his will4    
,he dreads her very tongue1 more        
crushing than  his heaviest club1 more  
keen than his poisoned arrows4  ,he     
dreads those  habits of secresy and     
falsehood1 the weapons of the weak1 to  
which savage  and degraded woman always 
has recourse4  ,he dreads the very      
medicinal  skill which she has learnt to
 exercise1 as nurse1 comforter1 and     
slave4  ,he dreads those secret         
ceremonies1 those mysterious initiations
 which no  man may witness1 which he has
 permitted to her in all ages1 in so    
many--if  not all--barbarous and        
semi-barbarous races1 whether ,negro1   
,american1  ,syrian1 ,greek1 or ,roman1 
as a homage to the mysterious importance
 of her  who brings him into the world4 
,if she turn against him--she1 with all 

her unknown powers1 she who is the      
sharer of his deepest secrets1 who      
prepares his very food day by day--what 
harm can she not1 may she not do8  ,and 
that she has good reason to turn against
 him1 he knows too well4  ,what         
deliverance is there from this          
mysterious house-fiend1 save brute      
force8  ,terror1 torture1 murder1 must  
be the order of the day4  ,woman must be
  crushed1 at all price1 by the blind   
fear of the man4    ,i shall say no     
more4  ,i shall draw a veil1 for very   
pity and shame1 over  the most important
 and most significant facts of this1 the
 most hideous  of all human follies4  ,i
 have1 ,i think1 given you hints enough 
to show  that it1 like all other        
superstitions1 is the child--the last   
born and  the ugliest child--of blind   
dread of the unknown4                   
,,science3 ,a lecture delivered at the  
,royal ,institution4      ,i said1 that 
,superstition was the child of ,fear1   
and ,fear the child of  ,ignorance2 and 

you might expect me to say              
antithetically1 that ,science  was the  
child of ,courage1 and ,courage the     
child of ,knowledge4    ,but these      
genealogies--like most metaphors--do not
 fit exactly1 as you  may see for       
yourselves4    ,if fear be the child of 
ignorance1 ignorance is also the child  
of fear2  the two react on1 and produce 
each other4  ,the more men dread        
,nature1 the  less they wish to know    
about her4  ,why pry into her awful     
secrets8  ,it is  dangerous2 perhaps    
impious4  ,she says to them1 as in the  
,egyptian temple  of old--,i am ,isis1  
and my veil no mortal yet hath lifted4  
,and why  should they try or wish to    
lift it8  ,if she will leave them in    
peace1  they will leave her in peace4   
,it is enough that she does not destroy 
them4  ,so as ignorance bred fear1 fear 
breeds fresh and willing  ignorance4    
,and courage8  ,we may say1 and truly1  
that courage is the child of  knowledge4
  ,but we may say as truly1 that        

knowledge is the child of  courage4     
,those ,egyptian priests in the temple  
of ,isis would have told  you that      
knowledge was the child of mystery1 of  
special illumination1 of  reverence1 and
 what not2 hiding under grand words     
their purpose of  keeping the masses    
ignorant1 that they might be their      
slaves4  ,reverence8  ,i will yield to  
none in reverence for reverence4  ,i    
will all but agree  with the wise man   
who said that reverence is the root of  
all virtues4  ,but  which child         
reverences his father most8  ,he who    
comes joyfully and  trustfully to meet  
him1 that he may learn his father's     
mind1 and do his  will3 or he who at his
 father's coming runs away and hides1   
lest he  should be beaten for he knows  
not what8  ,there is a scientific       
reverence1  a reverence of courage1     
which is surely one of the highest forms
 of  reverence4  ,that1 namely1 which so
 reveres every fact1 that it dare not   
overlook or falsify it1 seem it never so

 minute2 which feels that because  it is
 a fact1 it cannot be minute1 cannot be 
unimportant2 that it must be  a fact of 
,god2 a message from ,god2 a voice of   
,god1 as ,bacon has it1  revealed in    
things2 and which therefore1 just       
because it stands in solemn  awe of such
 paltry facts as the ,scolopax feather  
in a snipe's pinion1 or  the jagged     
leaves which appear capriciously in     
certain honeysuckles1  believes that    
there is likely to be some deep and wide
 secret underlying  them1 which is worth
 years of thought to solve4  ,that is   
reverence2 a  reverence which is        
growing1 thank ,god1 more and more      
common2 which will  produce1 as it grows
 more common still1 fruit which         
generations yet  unborn shall bless4    
,but as for that other reverence1 which 
shuts its eyes and ears in pious        
awe--what is it but cowardice decked out
 in state robes1 putting on the  sacred 
,urim and ,thummim1 not that men may ask
 counsel of the ,deity1 but  that they  

may not8  ,what is it but cowardice1    
very pitiable when  unmasked2 and what  
is its child but ignorance as pitiable1 
which would be  ludicrous were it not so
 injurious8  ,if a man comes up to      
,nature as to a  parrot or a monkey1    
with this prevailing thought in his     
head--,will it  bite me8--will he not be
 pretty certain to make up his mind that
 it may  bite him1 and had therefore    
best be left alone8  ,it is only the man
 of  courage--few and far between--who  
will stand the chance of a first bite1  
in the hope of teaching the parrot to   
talk1 or the monkey to fire off a  gun4 
,and it is only the man of courage--few 
and far between--who will  stand the    
chance of a first bite from ,nature1    
which may kill him for  aught he        
knows--for her teeth1 though clumsy1 are
 very strong--in order  that he may tame
 her and break her in to his use by the 
very same method  by which that         
admirable inductive philosopher1 ,mr4   
,rarey1 used to break  in his horses2   

first1 by not being afraid of them2 and 
next1 by trying to  find out what they  
were thinking of4  ,but after all1 as   
with animals1 so  with ,nature2         
cowardice is dangerous4  ,the surest    
method of getting bitten  by an animal  
is to be afraid of it2 and the surest   
method of being  injured by ,nature is  
to be afraid of it4  ,only as far as we 
understand  ,nature are we safe from it2
 and those who in any age counsel       
mankind not  to pry into the secrets of 
the universe1 counsel them not to       
provide for  their own life and         
well-being1 or for their children after 
them4  ,but how  few there have been in 
any age who have not been afraid of     
,nature4  ,how  few have set themselves1
 like ,rarey1 to tame her by finding out
 what she  is thinking of4  ,the mass   
are glad to have the results of science1
 as  they are to buy ,mr4 ,rarey's      
horses after they are tamed3 but for    
want of  courage or of wit1 they had    
rather leave the taming process to some 

one  else4  ,and therefore we may say   
that what knowledge of ,nature we       
have--and  we have very little--we owe  
to the courage of those men--and they   
have  been very few--who have been      
inspired to face ,nature boldly2 and    
say--or1  what is better1 act as if they
 were saying--,i find something in me   
which  ,i do not find in you2 which     
gives me the hope that ,i can grow to   
understand you1 though you may not      
understand me2 that ,i may become your  
master1 and not as now1 you mine4  ,and 
if not1 ,i will know3 or die in the     
search4    ,it is to those men1 the few 
and far between1 in a very few ages and 
very  few countries1 who have thus risen
 in rebellion against ,nature1 and      
looked it in the face with an unquailing
 glance1 that we owe what we call       
,physical ,science4    ,there have been 
four races--or rather a very few men of 
each four  races--who have faced ,nature
 after this gallant wise4    ,first1 the
 old ,jews4  ,i speak of them1 be it    

remembered1 exclusively from  an        
historical1 and not a religious point of
 view4    ,these people1 at a very      
remote epoch1 emerged from a country    
highly  civilised1 but sunk in the      
superstitions of nature-worship4  ,they 
invaded  and mingled with tribes whose  
superstitions were even more debased1   
silly1 and foul than those of the       
,egyptians from whom they escaped4      
,their  own masses were for centuries   
given up to nature-worship4  ,now among 
those ,jews arose men--a very           
few--sages--prophets--call them what you
  will1 the men were inspired heroes and
 philosophers--who assumed towards      
nature an attitude utterly different    
from the rest of their countrymen  and  
the rest of the then world2 who         
denounced superstition and the dread  of
 nature as the parent of all manner of  
vice and misery2 who for  themselves    
said boldly that they discerned in the  
universe an order1 a  unity1 a          
permanence of law1 which gave them      

courage instead of fear4  ,they  found  
delight and not dread in the thought    
that the universe obeyed a law  which   
could not be broken2 that all things    
continued to that day  according to a   
certain ordinance4  ,they took a view of
 ,nature totally new  in that age2      
healthy1 human1 cheerful1 loving1       
trustful1 and yet  reverent--identical  
with that which happily is beginning to 
prevail in  our own day4  ,they defied  
those very volcanic and meteoric        
phenomena of  their land1 to which their
 countrymen were slaying their own      
children in  the clefts of the rocks1   
and1 like ,theophrastus' superstitious  
man1  pouring their drink-offerings on  
the smooth stones of the valley2 and    
declared that1 for their part1 they     
would not fear1 though the earth was    
moved1 and though the hills were carried
 into the midst of the sea2  though the 
waters raged and swelled1 and the       
mountains shook at the  tempest4    ,the
 fact is indisputable4  ,and you must   

pardon me if ,i express my belief  that 
these men1 if they had felt it their    
business to found a school of  inductive
 physical science1 would1 owing to that 
temper of mind1 have  achieved a very   
signal success4  ,i ground that opinion 
on the remarkable1  but equally         
indisputable fact1 that no nation has   
ever succeeded in  perpetuating a school
 of inductive physical science1 save    
those whose  minds have been saturated  
with this same view of ,nature1 which   
they  have--as an historic fact--slowly 
but thoroughly learnt from the writings 
of these ,jewish sages4    ,such is the 
fact4  ,the founders of inductive       
physical science were not  the ,jews3   
but first the ,chaldaeans1 next the     
,greeks1 next their pupils  the         
,romans--or rather a few sages among    
each race4  ,but what success had  they8
  ,the ,chaldaean astronomers made a few
 discoveries concerning the  motions of 
the heavenly bodies1 which1 rudimentary 
as they were1 still  prove them to have 

been men of rare intellect4  ,for a     
great and a patient  genius must he have
 been1 who first distinguished the      
planets from the  fixed stars1 or worked
 out the earliest astronomical          
calculation4  ,but  they seem to have   
been crushed1 as it were1 by their own  
discoveries4  ,they stopped short4      
,they gave way again to the primeval    
fear of ,nature4  ,they sank into       
planet-worship4  ,they invented1 it     
would seem1 that  fantastic             
pseudo-science of astrology1 which lay  
for ages after as an  incubus on the    
human intellect and conscience4  ,they  
became the magicians  and quacks of the 
old world2 and mankind owed them        
thenceforth nothing  but evil4  ,among  
the ,greeks and ,romans1 again1 those   
sages who dared face  ,nature like      
reasonable men1 were accused by the     
superstitious mob as  irreverent1       
impious1 atheists4  ,the wisest of them 
all1 ,socrates1 was  actually put to    
death on that charge2 and finally1 they 

failed4  ,school  after school1 in      
,greece and ,rome1 struggled to         
discover1 and to get a  hearing for1    
some theory of the universe which was   
founded on something  like experience1  
reason1 common sense4  ,they were not   
allowed to  prosecute their attempt4    
,the mud-ocean of ignorance and fear in 
which  they struggled so manfully was   
too strong for them2 the mud-waves      
closed  over their heads finally1 as the
 age of the ,antonines expired2 and the 
last effort of ,graeco-,roman thought to
 explain the universe was               
,neoplatonism--the muddiest of the      
muddy--an attempt to apologise for1 and 
organise into a system1 all the         
nature-dreading superstitions of the    
,roman world4  ,porphyry1 ,plotinus1    
,proclus1 poor ,hypatia herself1 and all
  her school--they may have had         
themselves no bodily fear of ,nature2   
for  they were noble souls4  ,yet they  
spent their time in justifying those who
  had2 in apologising for the           

superstitions of the very mob which they
  despised3 just as--it sometimes seems 
to me--some folk in these days are  like
 to end in doing2 begging that the      
masses might be allowed to believe  in  
anything1 however false1 lest they      
should believe in nothing at all3  as if
 believing in lies could do anything but
 harm to any human being4  ,and so died 
the science of the old world1 in a true 
second childhood1  just where it began4 
,the ,jewish sages1 ,i hold1 taught that
 science was probable2 the ,greeks  and 
,romans proved that it was possible4    
,it remained for our race1 under  the   
teaching of both1 to bring science into 
act and fact4    ,many causes           
contributed to give them this power4    
,they were a personally  courageous     
race4  ,this earth has yet seen no      
braver men than the  forefathers of     
,christian ,europe1 whether             
,scandinavian or ,teuton1 ,angle or     
,frank4  ,they were a practical         
hard-headed race1 with a strong         

appreciation of facts1 and a strong     
determination to act on them4  ,their   
laws1 their society1 their commerce1    
their colonisation1 their migrations  by
 land and sea1 proved that they were    
such4  ,they were favoured1  moreover1  
by circumstances1 or--as ,i should      
rather put it--by that divine           
,providence which determined their      
times1 and the bounds of their          
habitation4  ,they came in as the       
heritors of the decaying civilisation of
  ,greece and ,rome2 they colonised     
territories which gave to man special   
fair play1 but no more1 in the struggle 
for existence1 the battle with  the     
powers of ,nature2 tolerably fertile1   
tolerably temperate2 with  boundless    
means of water communication2 freer than
 most parts of the  world from those    
terrible natural phenomena1 like the    
earthquake and the  hurricane1 before   
which man lies helpless and astounded1 a
 child beneath  the foot of a giant4    
,nature was to them not so inhospitable 

as to starve  their brains and limbs1 as
 it has done for the ,esquimaux or      
,fuegian2 and  not so bountiful as to   
crush them by its very luxuriance1 as it
 has  crushed the savages of the        
tropics4  ,they saw enough of its       
strength to  respect it2 not enough to  
cower before it3 and they and it have   
fought it  out2 and it seems to me1     
standing either on ,london ,bridge or on
 a ,holland  fen-dyke1 that they are    
winning at last4  ,but they had a sore  
battle3 a  battle against their own fear
 of the unseen4  ,they brought with     
them1 out  of the heart of ,asia1 dark  
and sad nature-superstitions1 some of   
which  linger among our peasantry till  
this day1 of elves1 trolls1 nixes1 and  
what not4  ,their ,thor and ,odin were  
at first1 probably1 only the thunder    
and the wind3 but they had to be        
appeased in the dark marches of the     
forest1 where hung rotting on the sacred
 oaks1 amid carcases of goat and  horse1
 the carcases of human victims4  ,no one

 acquainted with the early  legends and 
ballads of our race1 but must perceive  
throughout them all  the prevailing tone
 of fear and sadness4  ,and to their own
 superstitions1  they added those of the
 ,rome which they conquered4  ,they     
dreaded the  ,roman she-poisoners and   
witches1 who1 like ,horace's ,canidia1  
still  performed horrid rites in        
grave-yards and dark places of the      
earth4  ,they  dreaded as magical the   
delicate images engraved on old ,greek  
gems4  ,they  dreaded the very ,roman   
cities they had destroyed4  ,they were  
the work of  enchanters4  ,like the     
ruins of ,st4 ,albans here in ,england1 
they were all  full of devils1 guarding 
the treasures which the ,romans had     
hidden4  ,the  ,caesars became to them  
magical man-gods4  ,the poet ,virgil    
became the  prince of necromancers4  ,if
 the secrets of ,nature were to be      
known1 they  were to be known by        
unlawful means1 by prying into the      
mysteries of the  old heathen magicians1

 or of the ,mohammedan doctors of       
,cordova and  ,seville2 and those who   
dared to do so were respected and       
feared1 and  often came to evil ends4   
,it needed moral courage1 then1 to face 
and  interpret fact4  ,such brave men as
 ,pope ,gerbert1 ,roger ,bacon1         
,galileo1  even ,kepler1 did not lead   
happy lives2 some of them found         
themselves in  prison4  ,all the        
medieval sages--even ,albertus          
,magnus--were stigmatised  as magicians4
  ,one wonders that more of them did not
 imitate poor  ,paracelsus1 who1 unable 
to get a hearing for his coarse common  
sense1  took--vain and sensual--to      
drinking the laudanum which he himself  
had  discovered1 and vaunted as a       
priceless boon to men2 and died as the  
fool  dieth1 in spite of all his wisdom4
  ,for the ,romani nominis umbra1 the   
shadow of the mighty race whom they had 
conquered1 lay heavy on our  forefathers
 for centuries4  ,and their dread of the
 great heathens was  really a dread of  

,nature1 and of the powers thereof4     
,for when the  authority of great names 
has reigned unquestioned for many       
centuries1  those names become1 to the  
human mind1 integral and necessary parts
 of  ,nature itself4  ,they are1 as it  
were1 absorbed into it2 they become its 
laws1 its canons1 its demiurges1 and    
guardian spirits2 their words become    
regarded as actual facts2 in one word1  
they become a superstition1 and  are    
feared as parts of the vast unknown2 and
 to deny what they have said  is1 in the
 minds of the many1 not merely to fly in
 the face of reverent  wisdom1 but to   
fly in the face of facts4  ,during a    
great part of the  middle ages1 for     
instance1 it was impossible for an      
educated man to think  of ,nature       
itself1 without thinking first of what  
,aristotle had said of  her4            
,aristotle's dicta were ,nature2 and    
when ,benedetti1 at ,venice1  opposed in
 #aehe ,aristotle's opinions on violent 
and natural motion1 there  were         

hundreds1 perhaps1 in the universities  
of ,europe--as there certainly  were in 
the days of the immortal ',epistolae    
,obscurorum ,virorum'--who were  ready1 
in spite of all ,benedetti's professed  
reverence for ,aristotle1 to  accuse him
 of outraging not only the father of    
philosophy1 but ,nature  itself and its 
palpable and notorious facts4  ,for the 
restoration of  letters in the fifteenth
 century had not at first mended        
matters1 so  strong was the dread of    
,nature in the minds of the masses4     
,the minds of  men had sported forth1   
not toward any sound investigation of   
facts1 but  toward an eclectic          
resuscitation of ,neoplatonism2 which   
endured1 not  without a certain beauty  
and use--as let ,spenser's ',faery      
,queen' bear  witness--till the latter  
half of the seventeenth century4        
,after that time a rapid change began4  
,it is marked by--it has been  notably  
assisted by--the foundation of our own  
,royal ,society4  ,its causes  ,i will  

not enter into2 they are so inextricably
 mixed1 ,i hold1 with  theological      
questions1 that they cannot be discussed
 here4  ,i will only  point out to you  
these facts3 that1 from the latter part 
of the  seventeenth century1 the noblest
 heads and the noblest hearts of ,europe
  concentrated themselves more and more 
on the brave and patient  investigation 
of physical facts1 as the source of     
priceless future  blessings to mankind2 
that the eighteenth century1 which it   
has been the  fashion of late to        
depreciate1 did more for the welfare of 
mankind1 in  every conceivable          
direction1 than the whole fifteen       
centuries before it2  that it did this  
good work by boldly observing and       
analysing facts2 that  this boldness    
toward facts increased in proportion as 
,europe became  indoctrinated with the  
,jewish literature2 and that1 notably1  
such men as  ,kepler1 ,newton1          
,berkeley1 ,spinoza1 ,leibnitz1         
,descartes1 in whatsoever  else they    

differed1 agreed in this1 that their    
attitude towards ,nature  was derived   
from the teaching of the ,jewish sages4 
,i believe that we are  not yet fully   
aware how much we owe to the ,jewish    
mind1 in the gradual  emancipation of   
the human intellect4  ,the connection   
may not1 of course1  be one of cause and
 effect2 it may be a mere coincidence4  
,i believe it  to be a cause2 one of    
course of very many causes3 but still an
 integral  cause4  ,at least the        
coincidence is too remarkable a fact not
 to be  worthy of investigation4    ,i  
said1 just now--,the emancipation of the
 human intellect4  ,i did not  say--,of 
science1 or of the scientific intellect2
 and for this reason3    ,that the      
emancipation of science is the          
emancipation of the common mind  of all 
men4  ,all men can partake of the gains 
of free scientific thought1  not merely 
by enjoying its physical results1 but by
 becoming more  scientific men          
themselves4    ,therefore it was1 that  

though ,i began my first lecture by     
defining  superstition1 ,i did not begin
 my second by defining its antagonist1  
science4  ,for the word science defines 
itself4  ,it means simply  knowledge2   
that is1 of course1 right knowledge1 or 
such an approximation  as can be        
obtained2 knowledge of any natural      
object1 its classification1  its causes1
 its effects2 or in plain ,english1 what
 it is1 how it came  where it is1 and   
what can be done with it4    ,and       
scientific method1 likewise1 needs no   
definition2 for it is simply  the       
exercise of common sense4  ,it is not a 
peculiar1 unique1  professional1 or     
mysterious process of the understanding3
 but the same  which all men employ1    
from the cradle to the grave1 in forming
 correct  conclusions4    ,every one who
 knows the philosophic writings of ,mr4 
,john ,stuart ,mill1  will be familiar  
with this opinion4  ,but to those who   
have no leisure to  study him1 ,i should
 recommend the reading of ,professor    

,huxley's third  lecture on the origin  
of species4    ,in that he shows1 with  
great logical skill1 as well as with    
some humour1  how the man who1 on rising
 in the morning1 finds the parlour      
window open1  the spoons and teapot     
gone1 the mark of a dirty hand on the   
window-sill1  and that of a hob-nailed  
boot outside1 and comes to the          
conclusion that  some one has broken    
open the window and stolen the plate1   
arrives at that  hypothesis--for it is  
nothing more--by a long and complex     
train of  inductions and deductions1 of 
just the same kind as those which1      
according to the ,baconian philosophy1  
are to be used for investigating  the   
deepest secrets of ,nature4    ,this is 
true1 even of those sciences which      
involve long mathematical  calculations4
  ,in fact1 the stating of the problem  
to be solved is the  most important     
element in the calculation2 and that is 
so thoroughly a  labour of common sense 
that an utterly uneducated man may1 and 

often  does1 state an abstruse problem  
clearly and correctly2 seeing what ought
  to be proved1 and perhaps how to prove
 it1 though he may be unable to  work   
the problem out1 for want of            
mathematical knowledge4    ,but that    
mathematical knowledge is not--as all   
,cambridge men are surely  aware--the   
result of any special gift4  ,it is     
merely the development of  those        
conceptions of form and number which    
every human being possesses2  and any   
person of average intellect can make    
himself a fair mathematician  if he will
 only pay continuous attention2 in plain
 ,english1 think enough  about the      
subject4    ,there are sciences1 again1 
which do not involve mathematical       
calculation2  for instance1 botany1     
zoology1 geology1 which are just now    
passing from  their old stage of        
classificatory sciences into the rank of
 organic ones4  ,these are1 without     
doubt1 altogether within the scope of   
the merest  common sense4  ,any man or  

woman of average intellect1 if they will
 but  observe and think for themselves1 
freely1 boldly1 patiently1 accurately1  
may judge for themselves of the         
conclusions of these sciences1 may add  
to  these conclusions fresh and         
important discoveries2 and if ,i am     
asked for  a proof of what ,i assert1 ,i
 point to ',rain and ,rivers1' written  
by no  professed scientific man1 but by 
a colonel in the ,guards1 known to fame 
only as one of the most perfect horsemen
 in the world4    ,let me illustrate my 
meaning by an example4  ,a man--,i do   
not say a  geologist1 but simply a man1 
squire or ploughman--sees a small       
valley1  say one of the side-glens which
 open into the larger valleys in the    
,windsor forest district4  ,he wishes to
 ascertain its age4    ,he has1 at first
 sight1 a very simple measure--that of  
denudation4  ,he  sees that the glen is 
now being eaten out by a little stream1 
the product  of innumerable springs     
which arise along its sides1 and which  

are fed  entirely by the rain on the    
moors above4  ,he finds1 on observation1
 that  this stream brings down some ten 
cubic yards of sand and gravel1 on an   
average1 every year4  ,the actual       
quantity of earth which has been removed
  to make the glen may be several       
million cubic yards4  ,here is an easy  
sum  in arithmetic4  ,at the rate of ten
 cubic yards a year1 the stream has     
taken several hundred thousand years to 
make the glen4    ,you will observe that
 this result is obtained by mere common 
sense4  ,he  has a right to assume that 
the stream originally began the glen1   
because  he finds it in the act of      
enlarging it2 just as much right as he  
has to  assume1 if he finds a hole in   
his pocket1 and his last coin in the act
 of  falling through it1 that the rest  
of his money has fallen through the     
same hole4  ,it is a sufficient cause1  
and the simplest4  ,a number of         
observations as to the present rate of  
denudation1 and a sum which any         

railroad contractor can do in his head1 
to determine the solid contents  of the 
valley1 are all that are needed4  ,the  
method is that of science3  but it is   
also that of simple common sense4  ,you 
will remember1  therefore1 that this is 
no mere theory or hypothesis1 but a     
pretty fair  and simple conclusion from 
palpable facts2 that the probability    
lies with  the belief that the glen is  
some hundreds of thousands of years old2
 that  it is not the observer's business
 to prove it further1 but other persons'
  to disprove it1 if they can4    ,but  
does the matter end here8  ,no4  ,and1  
for certain reasons1 it is good  that it
 should not end here4    ,the observer1 
if he be a cautious man1 begins to see  
if he can disprove  his own conclusion2 
moreover1 being human1 he is probably   
somewhat awed1  if not appalled1 by his 
own conclusion4  ,hundreds of thousands 
of years  spent in making that little   
glen6  ,common sense would say that the 
longer  it took to make1 the less wonder

 there was in its being made at last3   
but  the instinctive human feeling is   
the opposite4  ,there is in men1 and    
there remains in them1 even after they  
are civilised1 and all other forms  of  
the dread of ,nature have died out in   
them1 a dread of size1 of vast  space1  
of vast time2 that latter1 mind1 being  
always imagined as space1  as we confess
 when we speak instinctively of a space 
of time4  ,they will  not understand    
that size is merely a relative1 not an  
absolute term2 that  if we were a       
thousand times larger than we are1 the  
universe would be a  thousand times     
smaller than it is2 that if we could    
think a thousand  times faster than we  
do1 time would be a thousand times      
longer than it  is2 that there is ,one  
in whom we live1 and move1 and have our 
being1 to  whom one day is as a thousand
 years1 and a thousand years as one day4
  ,i  believe this dread of size to be  
merely1 like all other superstitions1 a 
result of bodily fear2 a development of 

the instinct which makes a little  dog  
run away from a big dog4  ,be that as it
 may1 every observer has it2  and so the
 man's conclusion seems to him strange1 
doubtful3 he will  reconsider it4       
,moreover1 if he be an experienced man1 
he is well aware that first  guesses1   
first hypotheses1 are not always the    
right ones2 and if he be a  modest man1 
he will consider the fact that many     
thousands of thoughtful  men in all     
ages1 and many thousands still1 would   
say1 that the glen can  only be a few   
thousand1 or possibly a few hundred1    
years old4  ,and he  will feel bound to 
consider their opinion2 as far as it is1
 like his own1  drawn from facts1 but no
 further4    ,so he casts about for all 
other methods by which the glen may have
 been  produced1 to see if any one of   
them will account for it in a shorter   
time4    #a4  ,was it made by an        
earthquake8  ,no2 for the strata on both
 sides are  identical1 at the same      
level1 and in the same plane4    #b4    

,or by a mighty current8  ,if so1 the   
flood must have run in at the  upper    
end1 before it ran out at the lower4    
,but nothing has run in at the  upper   
end4  ,all round above are the          
undisturbed gravel beds of the          
horizontal moor1 without channel or     
depression4    #c4  ,or by water        
draining off a vast flat as it was      
upheaved out of the  sea8  ,that is a   
likely guess4  ,the valley at its upper 
end spreads out  like the fingers of a  
hand1 as the gullies in tide-muds do4   
,but that hypothesis will not stand4    
,there is no vast unbroken flat  behind 
the glen4  ,right and left of it are    
other similar glens1 parted  from it by 
long narrow ridges3 these also must be  
explained on the same  hypothesis2 but  
they cannot4  ,for there could not have 
been  surface-drainage to make them all1
 or a tenth of them4  ,there are no     
other possible hypotheses2 and so he    
must fall back on the original          
theory--the rain1 the springs1 the      

brook2 they have done it all1 even as   
they are doing it this day4    ,but is  
not that still a hasty assumption8  ,may
 not their denuding power  have been far
 greater in old times than now8    ,why 
should it8  ,because there was more rain
 then than now8  ,that he must  put out 
of court2 there is no evidence of it    
whatsoever4    ,because the land was    
more friable originally8  ,well1 there  
is a great  deal to be said for that4   
,the experience of every countryman     
tells him  that bare or fallow land is  
more easily washed away than land under 
vegetation4  ,and no doubt1 when these  
gravels and sands rose from the  sea1   
they were barren for hundreds of years4 
,he has some measure of the  time       
required1 because he can tell roughly   
how long it takes for sands  and        
shingles left by the sea to become      
covered with vegetation4  ,but he  must 
allow that the friability of the land   
must have been originally much  greater 
than now1 for hundreds of years4    ,but

 again1 does that fact really cut off   
any great space of time from his        
hundreds of thousands of years8  ,for   
when the land first rose from the  sea1 
that glen was not there4  ,some slight  
bay or bend in the shore  determined its
 site4  ,that stream was not there4  ,it
 was split up into a  million little    
springs1 oozing side by side from the   
shore1 and having  each a very minute   
denuding power1 which kept continually  
increasing by  combination as the glen  
ate its way inwards1 and the rainfall   
drained by  all these little springs was
 collected into the one central stream4 
,so  that when the ground being bare was
 most liable to be denuded1 the water   
was least able to do it2 and as the     
denuding power of the water  increased1 
the land1 being covered with vegetation1
 became more and more  able to resist   
it4  ,all this he has seen1 going on at 
the present day1 in  the similar gullies
 worn in the soft strata of the ,south  
,hampshire coast2  especially round     

,bournemouth4    ,so the two disturbing 
elements in the calculation may be      
fairly set off  against each other1 as  
making a difference of only a few       
thousands or  tens of thousands of years
 either way2 and the age of the glen may
 fairly  be1 if not a million years1 yet
 such a length of years as mankind still
  speak of with bated breath1 as if     
forsooth it would do them some harm4    
,i trust that every scientific man in   
this room will agree with me1 that  the 
imaginary squire or ploughman would have
 been conducting his  investigation     
strictly according to the laws of the   
,baconian philosophy4  ,you will remark1
 meanwhile1 that he has not used a      
single scientific  term1 or referred to 
a single scientific investigation2 and  
has observed  nothing and thought       
nothing which might not have been       
observed and  thought by any one who    
chose to use his common sense1 and not  
to be  afraid4    ,but because he has   
come round1 after all this further      

investigation1 to  something very like  
his first conclusion1 was all that      
further  investigation useless8  ,no--a 
thousand times1 no4  ,it is this very   
verification of hypotheses which makes  
the sound ones safe1 and destroys  the  
unsound4  ,it is this struggle with all 
sorts of superstitions which  makes     
science strong and sure1 and her march  
irresistible1 winning ground  slowly1   
but never receding from it4  ,it is this
 buffeting of adversity  which compels  
her not to rest dangerously upon the    
shallow sand of first  guesses1 and     
single observations2 but to strike her  
roots down1 deep1  wide1 and interlaced 
into the solid ground of actual facts4  
,it is very necessary to insist on this 
point4  ,for there have been men in  all
 past ages--,i do not say whether there 
are any such now1 but ,i am  inclined to
 think that there will be hereafter--men
 who have tried to  represent scientific
 method as something difficult1         
mysterious1 peculiar1  unique1 not to be

 attained by the unscientific mass2 and 
this not for the  purpose of exalting   
science1 but rather of discrediting her4
  ,for as long  as the masses1 educated 
or uneducated1 are ignorant of what     
scientific  method is1 they will look on
 scientific men1 as the middle age      
looked on  necromancers1 as a           
privileged1 but awful and uncanny caste1
 possessed of  mighty secrets2 who may  
do them great good1 but may also do them
 great  harm4    ,which belief on the   
part of the masses will enable these    
persons to  instal themselves as the    
critics of science1 though not          
scientific men  themselves3 and--as     
,shakespeare has it--to talk of ,robin  
,hood1 though  they never shot in his   
bow4  ,thus they become mediators to the
 masses  between the scientific and the 
unscientific worlds4  ,they tell        
them--,you  are not to trust the        
conclusions of men of science at first  
hand4  ,you  are not fit judges of their
 facts or of their methods4  ,it is we  

who  will1 by a cautious eclecticism1   
choose out for you such of their        
conclusions as are safe for you2 and    
them we will advise you to believe4  ,to
 the scientific man1 on the other hand1 
as often as anything is  discovered     
unpleasing to them1 they will say1      
imperiously and e  cathedra--,your new  
theory contradicts the established facts
 of science4  ,for they will know well  
that whatever the men of science think  
of their  assertion1 the masses will    
believe it2 totally unaware that the    
speakers  are by their very terms       
showing their ignorance of science2 and 
that what  they call established facts  
scientific men call merely provisional  
conclusions1 which they would throw away
 to-morrow without a pang were  the     
known facts explained better by a fresh 
theory1 or did fresh facts  require one4
    ,this has happened too often4  ,it  
is in the interest of superstition that 
it should happen again2 and the best way
 to prevent it surely is to tell  the   

masses--,scientific method is no        
peculiar mystery1 requiring a  peculiar 
initiation4  ,it is simply common sense1
 combined with uncommon  courage1 which 
includes uncommon honesty and uncommon  
patience2 and if  you will be brave1    
honest1 patient1 and rational1 you will 
need no  mystagogues to tell you what in
 science to believe and what not to     
believe2 for you will be just as good   
judges of scientific facts and  theories
 as those who assume the right of       
guiding your convictions4  ,you  are men
 and women3 and more than that you need 
not be4    ,and let me say that the man 
of our days whose writings exemplify    
most  thoroughly what ,i am going to say
 is the justly revered ,mr4 ,thomas     
,carlyle4    ,as far as ,i know he has  
never written on any scientific subject4
  ,for  aught ,i am aware of1 he may    
know nothing of mathematics or          
chemistry1 of  comparative anatomy or   
geology4  ,for aught ,i am aware of1 he 
may know a  great deal about them all1  

and1 like a wise man1 hold his tongue1  
and  give the world merely the results  
in the form of general thought4  ,but   
this ,i know2 that his writings are     
instinct with the very spirit of        
science2 that he has taught men1 more   
than any living man1 the meaning  and   
end of science2 that he has taught men  
moral and intellectual  courage2 to face
 facts boldly1 while they confess the   
divineness of  facts2 not to be afraid  
of ,nature1 and not to worship nature2  
to believe  that man can know truth2 and
 that only in as far as he knows truth  
can he  live worthily on this earth4    
,and thus he has vindicated1 as no other
 man  in our days has done1 at once the 
dignity of ,nature and the dignity of   
spirit4  ,that he would have made a     
distinguished scientific man1 we may  be
 as certain from his writings as we may 
be certain1 when we see a fine  old     
horse of a certain stamp1 that he would 
have made a first-class  hunter1 though 
he has been unfortunately all his life  

in harness4  ,therefore1 did ,i try to  
train a young man of science to be true1
 devout1  and earnest1 accurate and     
daring1 ,i should say--,read what you   
will3 but  at least read ,carlyle4  ,it 
is a small matter to me--and ,i doubt   
not to  him--whether you will agree with
 his special conclusions3 but his       
premises and his method are             
irrefragable2 for they stand on the     
voluntatem ,dei in rebus revelatam--on  
fact and common sense4    ,and ,mr4     
,carlyle's writings1 if ,i am correct in
 my estimate of them1 will  afford a    
very sufficient answer to those who     
think that the scientific  habit of mind
 tends to irreverence4    ,doubtless    
this accusation will always be brought  
against science by those  who confound  
reverence with fear4  ,for from blind   
fear of the unknown1  science does      
certainly deliver man4  ,she does by man
 as he does by an  unbroken colt4  ,the 
colt sees by the road side some quite   
new object--a  cast-away boot1 an old   

kettle1 or what not4  ,what a fearful   
monster6  ,what  unknown terrific powers
 may it not possess6  ,and the colt     
shies across  the road1 runs up the     
bank1 rears on end2 putting itself      
thereby1 as many  a man does1 in real   
danger4  ,what cure is there8  ,but one2
 experience4  ,so  science takes us1 as 
we should take the colt1 gently by the  
halter2 and  makes us simply smell at   
the new monster2 till after a few       
trembling  sniffs1 we discover1 like the
 colt1 that it is not a monster1 but a  
kettle4  ,yet ,i think1 if we sum up the
 loss and gain1 we shall find the       
colt's character has gained1 rather than
 lost1 by being thus disabused4  ,he    
learns to substitute a very rational    
reverence for the man who is  breaking  
him in1 for a totally irrational        
reverence for the kettle2 and  becomes  
thereby a much wiser and more useful    
member of society1 as does  the man when
 disabused of his superstitions4        
,from which follows one result4  ,that  

if science proposes--as she does--to    
make men brave1 wise1 and independent1  
she must needs excite unpleasant        
feelings in all who desire to keep men  
cowardly1 ignorant1 and slavish4  ,and  
that too many such persons have existed 
in all ages is but too  notorious4      
,there have been from all time1 goetai1 
quacks1 powwow men1  rain-makers1 and   
necromancers of various sorts1 who      
having for their own  purposes set forth
 partial1 ill-grounded1 fantastic1 and  
frightful  interpretations of nature1   
have no love for those who search after 
a  true1 exact1 brave1 and hopeful one4 
,and therefore it is to be feared1  or  
hoped1 science and superstition will to 
the world's end remain  irreconcilable  
and internecine foes4    ,conceive the  
feelings of an old ,lapland witch1 who  
has had for the last  fifty years all   
the winds in a sealskin bag1 and has    
been selling fair  breezes to northern  
skippers at so much a puff1 asserting   
her powers so  often1 poor old soul1    

that she has got to half believe them   
herself1--conceive1 ,i say1 her feelings
 at seeing her customers watch the      
,admiralty storm-signals1 and con the   
weather reports in the ',times4'        
,conceive the feelings of ,sir ,samuel  
,baker's ,african friend1 ,katchiba1 the
  rain-making chief1 who possessed a    
whole housefull of thunder and          
lightning--though he did not1 he        
confessed1 keep it in a bottle as they  
do in ,england--if ,sir ,samuel had had 
the means1 and the will1 of giving  to  
,katchiba's ,negros a course of lectures
 on electricity1 with  appropriate      
experiments1 and a real bottle full of  
real lightning among  the foremost4     
,it is clear that only two methods of   
self-defence would have been open to    
the rain-maker3 namely1 either to kill  
,sir ,samuel1 or to buy his real  secret
 of bottling the lightning1 that he     
might use it for his own ends4  ,the    
former method--that of killing the man  
of science--was found more  easy in     

ancient times2 the latter in these      
modern ones4  ,and there have  been     
always those who1 too good-natured to   
kill the scientific man1 have           
patronised knowledge1 not for its own   
sake1 but for the use which may be  made
 of it2 who would like to keep a tame   
man of science1 as they would a  tame   
poet1 or a tame parrot2 who say--,let us
 have science by all means1  but not too
 much of it4  ,it is a dangerous thing2 
to be doled out to the  world1 like     
medicine1 in small and cautious doses4  
,you1 the scientific  man1 will of      
course freely discover what you choose4 
,only do not talk  too loudly about it3 
leave that to us4  ,we understand the   
world1 and are  meant to guide and      
govern it4  ,so discover freely3 and    
meanwhile hand  over your discoveries to
 us1 that we may instruct and edify the 
populace  with so much of them as we    
think safe1 while we keep our position  
thereby1 and in many cases make much    
money by your science4  ,do that1 and   

we will patronise you1 applaud you1 ask 
you to our houses2 and you shall  be    
clothed in purple and fine linen1 and   
fare sumptuously with us every  day4  ,i
 know not whether these latter are not  
the worst enemies which  science has4   
,they are often such excellent1         
respectable1 orderly1 well-  meaning    
persons4  ,they desire so sincerely that
 everyone should be wise3  only not too 
wise4  ,they are so utterly unaware of  
the mischief they are  doing4  ,they    
would recoil with horror if they were   
told they were so many  ,iscariots1     
betraying ,truth with a kiss4    ,but   
science1 as yet1 has withstood both     
terrors and blandishments4  ,in  old    
times1 she endured being imprisoned and 
slain4  ,she came to life  again4       
,perhaps it was the will of ,him in whom
 all things live1 that she  should live4
  ,perhaps it was ,his spirit which gave
 her life4    ,she can endure1 too1     
being starved4  ,her votaries have not  
as yet cared  much for purple and fine  

linen1 and sumptuous fare4  ,there are a
 very few  among them who1 joining      
brilliant talents to solid learning1    
have risen  to deserved popularity1 to  
titles1 and to wealth4  ,but even their 
labours1 it seems to me1 are never      
rewarded in any proportion to the time  
and the intellect spent on them1 nor to 
the benefits which they bring to        
mankind2 while the great majority1      
unpaid and unknown1 toil on1 and have   
to find in science her own reward4      
,better1 perhaps1 that it should be  so4
  ,better for science that she should be
 free1 in holy poverty1 to go  where she
 will and say what she knows1 than that 
she should be hired out  at so much a   
year to say things pleasing to the many1
 and to those who  guide the many4  ,and
 so1 ,i verily believe1 the majority of 
scientific men  think4  ,there are those
 among them who have obeyed very        
faithfully ,st4  ,paul's precept1 ,no   
man that warreth entangleth himself with
 the affairs  of this life4  ,for they  

have discovered that they are engaged in
 a war--a  veritable war--against the   
rulers of darkness1 against ignorance   
and its  twin children1 fear and        
cruelty4  ,of that war they see neither 
the end  nor even the plan4  ,but they  
are ready to go on2 ready1 with         
,socrates1  to follow reason            
withersoever it leads2 and content1     
meanwhile1 like  good soldiers in a     
campaign1 if they can keep tolerably in 
line1 and use  their weapons1 and see a 
few yards ahead of them through the     
smoke and  the woods4  ,they will come  
out somewhere at last2 they know not    
where nor  when3 but they will come out 
at last1 into the daylight and the open 
field2 and be told then--perhaps to     
their own astonishment--as many a       
gallant soldier has been told1 that by  
simply walking straight on1 and  doing  
the duty which lay nearest them1 they   
have helped to win a great  battle1 and 
slay great giants1 earning the thanks of
 their country and of  mankind4    ,and1

 meanwhile1 if they get their shilling a
 day of fighting-pay1 they  are content4
  ,i had almost said1 they ought to be  
content4  ,for science  is1 ,i verily   
believe1 like virtue1 its own exceeding 
great reward4  ,i can  conceive few     
human states more enviable than that of 
the man to whom1  panting in the foul   
laboratory1 or watching for his life    
under the tropic  forest1 ,isis shall   
for a moment lift her sacred veil1 and  
show him1 once  and for ever1 the thing 
he dreamed not of2 some law1 or even    
mere hint of  a law1 explaining one     
fact2 but explaining with it a thousand 
more1  connecting them all with each    
other and with the mighty whole1 till   
order  and meaning shoots through some  
old ,chaos of scattered observations4   
,is not that a joy1 a prize1 which      
wealth cannot give1 nor poverty take    
away8  ,what it may lead to1 he knows   
not4  ,of what use it may become1 he    
knows not4  ,but this he knows1 that    
somewhere it must lead2 of some use  it 

will be4  ,for it is a truth2 and having
 found a truth1 he has  exorcised one   
more of the ghosts which haunt humanity4
  ,he has left one  object less for man 
to fear2 one object more for man to use4
  ,yes1 the  scientific man may have    
this comfort1 that whatever he has done1
 he has  done good2 that he is following
 a mistress who has never yet conferred 
aught but benefits on the human race4   
,what physical science may do hereafter 
,i know not2 but as yet she has  done   
this3    ,she has enormously increased  
the wealth of the human race2 and has   
therefore given employment1 food1       
existence1 to millions who1 without     
science1 would either have starved or   
have never been born4  ,she has  shown  
that the dictum of the early political  
economists1 that population  has a      
tendency to increase faster than the    
means of subsistence1 is no  law of     
humanity1 but merely a tendency of the  
barbaric and ignorant man1  which can be
 counteracted by increasing manifold by 

scientific means his  powers of         
producing food4  ,she has taught men1   
during the last few years1  to foresee  
and elude the most destructive storms2  
and there is no reason  for doubting1   
and many reasons for hoping1 that she   
will gradually teach  men to elude other
 terrific forces of nature1 too powerful
 and too  seemingly capricious for them 
to conquer4  ,she has discovered        
innumerable  remedies and alleviations  
for pains and disease4  ,she has thrown 
such  light on the causes of epidemics1 
that we are able to say now that the    
presence of cholera--and probably of all
 zymotic diseases--in any place1  is    
usually a sin and a shame1 for which the
 owners and authorities of  that place  
ought to be punishable by law1 as       
destroyers of their fellow-  men2 while 
for the weak1 for those who1 in the     
barbarous and  semi-barbarous state--and
 out of that last we are only just      
emerging--how  much has she done2 an    
earnest of much more which she will do8 

,she has  delivered the insane--,i may  
say by the scientific insight of one    
man1  more worthy of titles and pensions
 than nine-tenths of those who earn     
them--,i mean the great and good        
,pinel--from hopeless misery and torture
  into comparative peace and comfort1   
and at least the possibility of cure4   
,for children1 she has done much1 or    
rather might do1 would parents read  and
 perpend such books as ,andrew ,combe's 
and those of other writers on  physical 
education4  ,we should not then see the 
children1 even of the  rich1 done to    
death piecemeal by improper food1       
improper clothes1 neglect  of           
ventilation and the commonest measures  
for preserving health4  ,we  should not 
see their intellects stunted by         
,procrustean attempts to teach  them all
 the same accomplishments1 to the       
neglect1 most often1 of any  sound      
practical training of their faculties4  
,we should not see slight  indigestion1 
or temporary rushes of blood to the     

head1 condemned and  punished as sins   
against ,him who took up little children
 in ,his arms and  blessed them4    ,but
 we may have hope4  ,when we compare    
education now with what it was  even    
forty years ago1 much more with the     
stupid brutality of the monastic        
system1 we may hail for children1 as    
well as for grown people1 the advent  of
 the reign of common sense4    ,and for 
woman--,what might ,i not say on that   
point8  ,but most of it would  be fitly 
discussed only among physicians and     
biologists3 here ,i will say  only      
this--,science has exterminated1 at     
least among civilised nations1          
witch-manias4  ,women--at least white   
women--are no longer tortured or  burnt 
alive from man's blind fear of the      
unknown4  ,if science had done no  more 
than that1 she would deserve the        
perpetual thanks and the perpetual      
trust1 not only of the women whom she   
has preserved from agony1 but the  men  
whom she has preserved from crime4      

,these benefits have already accrued to 
civilised men1 because they have  lately
 allowed a very few of their number     
peaceably to imitate ,mr4 ,rarey1  and  
find out what nature--or rather1 to     
speak at once reverently and            
accurately1 ,he who made nature--is     
thinking of2 and obey the voluntatem    
,dei in rebus revelatam4  ,this science 
has done1 while yet in her  infancy4    
,what she will do in her maturity1 who  
dare predict8  ,at least1  in the face  
of such facts as these1 those who bid us
 fear1 or restrain1  or mutilate        
science1 bid us commit an act of folly1 
as well as of  ingratitude1 which can   
only harm ourselves4  ,for science has  
as yet done  nothing but good4  ,will   
any one tell me what harm it has ever   
done8  ,when  any one will show me a    
single result of science1 of the        
knowledge of and  use of physical facts1
 which has not tended directly to the   
benefit of  mankind1 moral and          
spiritual1 as well as physical and      

economic--then ,i  shall be tempted to  
believe that ,solomon was wrong when he 
said that the  one thing to be sought   
after on earth1 more precious than all  
treasure1  she who has length of days in
 her right hand1 and in her left hand   
riches  and honour1 whose ways are ways 
of pleasantness and all her paths are   
peace1 who is a tree of life to all who 
lay hold on her1 and makes happy  every 
one who retains her1 is--as you will see
 if you will yourselves  consult the    
passage--that very ,wisdom--by which    
,god has founded the  earth2 and that   
very ,understanding--by which ,he has   
established the  heavens4               
,,grots ,,and ,,groves      ,i wish this
 lecture to be suggestive1 rather that  
didactic2 to set you  thinking and      
inquiring for yourselves1 rather than   
learning at second-  hand from me4      
,some among my audience1 ,i doubt not1  
will neither need to  be taught by me1  
nor to be stirred up to inquiry for     
themselves4  ,they  are already1        

probably1 antiquarians2 already better  
acquainted with the  subject than ,i am4
  ,they come hither1 therefore1 as      
critics2 ,i trust not  as unkindly      
critics4  ,they will1 ,i hope1 remember 
that ,i am trying to  excite a general  
interest in that very architecture in   
which they  delight1 and so to make the 
public do justice to their labours4     
,they  will therefore1 ,i trust1        
,be to my faults a little blind1     ,be
 to my virtues very kind2    and if my  
architectural theories do not seem to   
them correct in all                     
details--well-founded ,i believe them   
myself to be--remember that it is a     
slight matter to me1 or to the audience1
 whether any special and pet  fancy of  
mine should be exactly true or not3 but 
it is not a light matter  that my       
hearers should be awakened--and too many
 just now need an actual  awakening--to 
a right1 pure1 and wholesome judgment on
 questions of art1  especially when the 
soundness of that judgment depends1 as  

in this case1  on sound judgments about 
human history1 as well as about natural 
objects4    ,now1 it befel me that1     
fresh from the ,tropic forests1 and with
 their  forms hanging always1 as it     
were1 in the background of my eye1 ,i   
was  impressed more and more vividly the
 longer ,i looked1 with the likeness of 
those forest forms to the forms of our  
own ,cathedral of ,chester4  ,the  grand
 and graceful ,chapter-house transformed
 itself into one of those  green bowers1
 which1 once seen1 and never to be seen 
again1 make one at  once richer and     
poorer for the rest of life4  ,the fans 
of groining sprang  from the short      
columns1 just as do the feathered boughs
 of the far more  beautiful ,maximiliana
 palm1 and just of the same size and    
shape3 and met  overhead1 as ,i have    
seen them meet1 in aisles longer by far 
than our  cathedral nave4  ,the free    
upright shafts1 which give such         
strength1 and  yet such lightness1 to   
the mullions of each window1 pierced    

upward  through those curving lines1 as 
do the stems of young trees through the 
fronds of palm2 and1 like them1 carried 
the eye and the fancy up into the       
infinite1 and took off a sense of       
oppression and captivity which the      
weight of the roof might have produced4 
,in the nave1 in the choir the  same    
vision of the ,tropic forest haunted me4
  ,the fluted columns not only          
resembled1 but seemed copied from the   
fluted stems beneath which ,i had       
ridden in the primeval woods2 their     
bases1 their capitals1 seemed copied    
from the bulgings at the collar of the  
root1 and at the spring of the  boughs1 
produced by a check of the redundant    
sap2 and were garlanded  often enough   
like the capitals of the columns1 with  
delicate tracery of  parasite leaves and
 flowers2 the mouldings of the arches   
seemed copied  from the parallel bundles
 of the curving bamboo shoots2 and even 
the  flatter roof of the nave and       
transepts had its antitype in that      

highest  level of the forest aisles1    
where the trees1 having climbed at last 
to  the light-food which they seek1 care
 no longer to grow upward1 but spread   
out in huge limbs1 almost horizontal1   
reminding the eye of the  four-centred  
arch which marks the period of          
,perpendicular ,gothic4    ,nay1 to this
 day there is one point in our cathedral
 which1 to me1 keeps  up the illusion   
still4  ,as ,i enter the choir1 and look
 upward toward the  left1 ,i cannot help
 seeing1 in the tabernacle work of the  
stalls1 the  slender and aspiring forms 
of the rastrajo2 the delicate second    
growth  which1 as it were1 rushes upward
 from the earth wherever the forest is  
cleared2 and above it1 in the tall lines
 of the north-west pier of the          
tower--even though defaced1 along the   
inner face of the western arch1 by  ugly
 and needless perpendicular             
panelling--,i seem to see the stems of  
huge ,cedars1 or ,balatas1 or ,ceibas1  
curving over1 as they would do1 into    

the great beams of the transept roof1   
some seventy feet above the ground4     
,nay1 so far will the fancy lead1 that  
,i have seemed to see1 in the  stained  
glass between the tracery of the        
windows1 such gorgeous sheets of  colour
 as sometimes flash on the eye1 when1   
far aloft1 between high stems  and      
boughs1 you catch sight of some great   
tree ablaze with flowers1  either its   
own or those of a parasite2 yellow or   
crimson1 white or  purple2 and over them
 again the cloudless blue4    ,now1 ,i  
know well that all these dreams are     
dreams2 that the men who built  our     
northern cathedrals never saw these     
forest forms2 and that the  likeness of 
their work to those of ,tropic nature is
 at most only a  corroboration of ,mr4  
,ruskin's dictum1 that the ,gothic did  
not arise out  of1 but developed itself 
into1 a resemblance to vegetation4 4 4 4
  ,it was  no chance suggestion of the  
form of an arch from the bending of a   
bough1  but the gradual and continual   

discovery of a beauty in natural forms  
which could be more and more transferred
 into those of stone1 which  influenced 
at once the hearts of the people and the
 form of the edifice4  ,so true is this1
 that by a pure and noble copying of the
 vegetable beauty  which they had seen  
in their own clime1 the medieval        
craftsmen went so  far--as ,i have shown
 you--as to anticipate forms of         
vegetable beauty  peculiar to ,tropic   
climes1 which they had not seen3 a fresh
 proof1 if  proof were needed1 that     
beauty is something absolute and        
independent of  man2 and not1 as some   
think1 only relative1 and what happens  
to be  pleasant to the eye of this man  
or that4    ,but thinking over this     
matter1 and reading over1 too1 that     
which ,mr4  ,ruskin has written thereon 
in his ',stones of ,venice1' vol4 ii4   
cap4 vi41  on the nature of ,gothic1 ,i 
came to certain further conclusions--or 
at  least surmises--which ,i put before 
you to-night1 in hopes that if they     

have no other effect on you1 they will  
at least stir some of you up to  read   
,mr4 ,ruskin's works4    ,now ,mr4      
,ruskin says1 ,that the original        
conception of ,gothic architecture  has 
been derived from vegetation1 from the  
symmetry of avenues and the  interlacing
 of branches1 is a strange and vain     
supposition4  ,it is a  theory which    
never could have existed for a moment in
 the mind of any  person acquainted with
 early ,gothic3 but1 however idle as a  
theory1 it is  most valuable as a       
testimony to the character of the       
perfected style4    ,doubtless so4  ,but
 you must remember always that the      
subject of my  lecture is ,grots and    
,groves2 that ,i am speaking not of     
,gothic  architecture in general1 but of
 ,gothic ecclesiastical architecture2   
and  more1 almost exclusively of the    
ecclesiastical architecture of the      
,teutonic or northern nations2 because  
in them1 as ,i think1 the  resemblance  
between the temple and the forest       

reached the fullest  exactness4    ,now 
the original idea of a ,christian church
 was that of a grot2 a cave4  ,that is a
 historic fact4  ,the ,christianity     
which was passed on to us  began to     
worship1 hidden and persecuted1 in the  
catacombs of ,rome1 it may  be often    
around the martyrs' tombs1 by the dim   
light of candle or of  torch4  ,the     
candles on the ,roman altars1 whatever  
they have been made to  symbolise since 
then1 are the hereditary memorials of   
that fact4  ,throughout the ,north1 in  
these isles as much as in any land1 the 
idea of  the grot was1 in like wise1 the
 idea of a church4  ,the saint or hermit
  built himself a cell2 dark1 massive1  
intended to exclude light as well as    
weather2 or took refuge in a cave4      
,there he prayed and worshipped1 and    
gathered others to pray and worship     
round him1 during his life4  ,there  he1
 often enough1 became an object of      
worship1 in his turn1 after his  death4 
,in after ages his cave was ornamented1 

like that of the hermit of  ,montmajour 
by ,arles2 or his cell-chapel enlarged1 
as those of the ,scotch  and ,irish     
saints have been1 again and again2 till 
at last a stately  minster rose above   
it4  ,still1 the idea that the church   
was to be a grot  haunted the minds of  
builders4    ,but side by side with the 
,christian grot there was throughout the
 ,north  another form of temple1        
dedicated to very different gods2       
namely1 the  trees from whose mighty    
stems hung the heads of the victims of  
,odin or of  ,thor1 the horse1 the goat1
 and in time of calamity or pestilence1 
of men4  ,trees and not grots were the  
temples of our forefathers4    ,scholars
 know well--but they must excuse my     
quoting it for the sake of  those who   
are not scholars--the famous passage of 
,tacitus which tells how  our           
forefathers held it beneath the dignity 
of the gods to coop them  within walls1 
or liken them to any human countenance3 
but consecrated  groves and woods1 and  

called by the name of gods that mystery 
which they  held by faith alone2 and the
 equally famous passage of ,claudian1   
about  the vast silence of the ,black   
,forest1 and groves awful with ancient  
superstition2 and oaks1 barbarian       
deities2 and ,lucan's groves inviolate  
from all antiquity1 and altars stained  
with human blood4    ,to worship in such
 spots was an abomination to the early  
,christian4  ,it  was as much a test of 
heathendom as the eating of horse-flesh1
 sacred to  ,odin1 and therefore unclean
 to ,christian men4  ,the ,lombard laws 
and  others forbid expressly the        
lingering remnants of grove worship4    
,st4  ,boniface and other early         
missionaries hewed down in defiance the 
sacred  oaks1 and paid sometimes for    
their valour with their lives4    ,it is
 no wonder1 then1 if long centuries     
elapsed ere the likeness of  vegetable  
forms began to reappear in the          
,christian churches of the ,north4  ,and
 yet both grot and grove were equally   

the natural temples which the  religious
 instinct of all deep-hearted peoples1  
conscious of sin1 and  conscious1 too1  
of yearnings after a perfection not to  
be found on earth1  chooses from the    
earliest stage of awakening             
civilisation4  ,in them1  alone1 before 
he had strength and skill to build nobly
 for himself1 could  man find darkness1 
the mother of mystery and awe1 in which 
he is reminded  perforce of his own     
ignorance and weakness2 in which he     
learns first to  remember unseen powers1
 sometimes to his comfort and elevation1
 sometimes  only to his terror and      
debasement2 darkness2 and with it       
silence and  solitude1 in which he can  
collect himself1 and shut out the noise 
and  glare1 the meanness and the        
coarseness1 of the world2 and be alone a
  while with his own thoughts1 his own  
fancy1 his own conscience1 his own      
soul4    ,but for a while1 as ,i have   
said1 that darkness1 solitude1 and      
silence  were to be sought in the grot1 

not in the grove4    ,then ,christianity
 conquered the ,empire4  ,it adapted1   
not merely its  architecture1 but its   
very buildings1 to its worship4  ,the   
,roman ,basilica  became the ,christian 
church2 a noble form of building enough1
 though one  in which was neither       
darkness1 solitude1 nor silence1 but    
crowded  congregations1 clapping--or    
otherwise--the popular preacher2 or     
fighting  about the election of a bishop
 or a pope1 till the holy place ran with
  ,christian blood4  ,the deep-hearted  
,northern turned away1 in weariness and 
disgust1 from those vast halls1 fitted  
only for the feverish superstition  of a
 profligate and worn-out civilisation2  
and took himself1 amid his own  rocks   
and forests1 moors and shores1 to a     
simpler and sterner  architecture1 which
 should express a creed1 sterner2 and at
 heart far  simpler2 though dogmatically
 the same4    ,and this is1 to my mind1 
the difference1 and the noble           
difference1  between the so-called      

,norman architecture1 which came hither 
about the  time of the ,conquest2 and   
that of ,romanized ,italy4    ,but the  
,normans were a conquering race2 and one
 which conquered1 be it  always         
remembered1 in ,england at least1 in the
 name and by the authority  of ,rome4   
,their ecclesiastics1 like the          
ecclesiastics on the ,continent1  were  
the representatives of ,roman           
civilisation1 of ,rome's right1         
intellectual and spiritual1 to rule the 
world4    ,therefore their architecture1
 like their creed1 was ,roman4  ,they   
took the  massive towering ,roman forms1
 which expressed domination2 and piled  
them  one on the other1 to express the  
domination of ,christian ,rome over the 
souls1 as they had represented the      
domination of heathen ,rome over the    
bodies1 of men4  ,and so side by side   
with the towers of the ,norman keep     
rose the towers of the ,norman          
cathedral--the two signs of a double    
servitude4    ,but1 with the thirteenth 

century1 there dawned an age in         
,northern ,europe1  which ,i may boldly 
call an heroic age2 heroic in its       
virtues and in its  crimes2 an age of   
rich passionate youth1 or rather of     
early manhood2 full  of aspirations1 of 
chivalry1 of self-sacrifice as strange  
and terrible as  it was beautiful and   
noble1 even when most misguided4  ,the  
,teutonic  nations of ,europe--our own  
forefathers most of all--having absorbed
 all  that heathen ,rome could teach    
them1 at least for the time being1 began
 to  think for themselves2 to have      
poets1 philosophers1 historians1        
architects1 of their own4  ,the         
thirteenth century was especially an age
  of aspiration2 and its architects     
expressed1 in buildings quite unlike    
those of the preceding centuries1 the   
aspirations of the time4    ,the        
,pointed ,arch had been introduced half 
a century before4  ,it may be  that the 
,crusaders saw it in the ,east and      
brought it home4  ,it may be  that it   

originated from the quadripartite       
vaulting of the ,normans1 the  segmental
 groins of which1 crossing diagonally1  
produced to appearance  the pointed     
arch4  ,it may be that it was derived   
from that mystical  figure of a pointed 
oval form1 the vesica piscis4  ,it may  
be1 lastly1  that it was suggested      
simply by the intersection of           
semicircular arches1  so frequently     
found in ornamental arcades4  ,the last 
cause may perhaps be  the true one3 but 
it matters little whence the pointed    
arch came4  ,it  matters much what it   
meant to those who introduced it4  ,and 
at the  beginning of the ,transition or 
semi-,norman period1 it seems to have   
meant  nothing4  ,it was not till the   
thirteenth century that it had gradually
  received1 as it were1 a soul1 and had 
become the exponent of a great  idea4   
,as the ,norman architecture and its    
forms had signified domination1  so the 
,early ,english1 as we call it1         
signified aspiration2 an idea which  was

 perfected1 as far as it could be1 in   
what we call the ,decorated  style4     
,there is an evident gap1 ,i had almost 
said a gulf1 between the  architectural 
mind of the eleventh and that of the    
thirteenth century4  ,a  vertical       
tendency1 a longing after lightness and 
freedom1 appears2 and  with them a      
longing to reproduce the graces of      
nature and art4  ,and here  ,i ask you  
to look for yourselves at the buildings 
of this new era--there  is a beautiful  
specimen in yonder arcade #cjd--;and    
judge for yourselves  whether they1 and 
even more than they the ,decorated style
 into which they  developed1 do not     
remind you of the forest shapes8    ,and
 if they remind you3 must they not have 
reminded those who shaped  them8  ,can  
it have been otherwise8  ,we know that  
the men who built were  earnest4  ,the  
carefulness1 the reverence1 of their    
work have given a  subject for some of  
,mr4 ,ruskin's noblest chapters1 a text 
for some of his  noblest sermons4  ,we  

know that they were students of         
vegetable form4  ,that  is proved by the
 flowers1 the leaves1 even the birds1   
with which they  enwreathed their       
capitals and enriched their mouldings4  
,look up there1  and see4    ,you cannot
 look at any good church-work from the  
thirteenth to the middle  of the        
fifteenth century1 without seeing that  
leaves and flowers were  perpetually in 
the workman's mind4  ,do you fancy that 
stems and boughs  were never in his     
mind8  ,he kept1 doubtless1 in          
remembrance the  fundamental idea1 that 
the ,christian church should symbolise a
 grot or  cave4  ,he could do no less2  
while he again and again saw hermits    
around  him dwelling and worshipping in 
caves1 as they had done ages before in  
,egypt and ,syria2 while he fixed1 again
 and again1 the site of his convent  and
 his minster in some secluded valley    
guarded by cliffs and rocks1 like  ,vale
 ,crucis in ,north ,wales4  ,but his    
minster stood often not among rocks     

only1 but amid trees2 in some clearing  
in the primeval forest1 as ,vale        
,crucis was then4  ,at least he could   
not pass from minster to minster1  from 
town to town1 without journeying through
 long miles of forest4  ,do  you think  
that the awful shapes and shadows of    
that forest never haunted  his          
imagination as he built8  ,he would have
 cut down ruthlessly1 as his            
predecessors the early missionaries did1
 the sacred trees amid which ,thor  and 
,odin had been worshipped by the heathen
 ,saxons2 amid which still  darker      
deities were still worshipped by the    
heathen tribes of ,eastern  ,europe4    
,but he was the descendant of men who   
had worshipped in those  groves2 and the
 glamour of them was upon him still4    
,he peopled the wild  forest with demons
 and fairies3 but that did not surely   
prevent his  feeling its ennobling      
grandeur1 its chastening loneliness4    
,his ancestors  had held the oaks for   
trees of ,god1 even as the ,jews held   

the ,cedar1 and  the ,hindoos likewise2 
for the ,deodara pine is not only1      
botanists tell  us1 the same as the     
,cedar of ,lebanon3 but its very        
name--the  ,deodara--signifies nought   
else but ,the tree of ,god4    ,his     
ancestors1 ,i say1 had held the oaks for
 trees of ,god4  ,it may be that  as the
 monk sat beneath their shade with his  
,bible on his knee1 like good  ,st4     
,boniface in the ,fulda forest1 he found
 that his ancestors were right4    ,to  
understand what sort of trees they were 
from which he got his  inspiration3 you 
must look1 not at an average ,english   
wood1 perpetually  thinned out as the   
trees arrive at middle age4  ,still less
 must you look  at the pines1 oaks1     
beeches1 of an ,english park1 where each
 tree has had  space to develop itself  
freely into a more or less rounded form4
  ,you  must not even look at the tropic
 forests4  ,for there1 from the immense 
diversity of forms1 twenty varieties of 
tree will grow beneath each  other1     

forming a close-packed heap of boughs   
and leaves1 from the ground  to a       
hundred feet and more aloft4    ,you    
should look at the ,north ,american     
forests of social trees--especially  of 
pines and firs1 where trees of one      
species1 crowded together1 and          
competing with equal advantages for the 
air and light1 form themselves  into one
 wilderness of straight smooth shafts1  
surmounted by a flat sheet  of foliage1 
held up by boughs like the ribs of a    
groined roof2 while  underneath the     
ground is bare as a cathedral floor4    
,you all know1 surely1 the ,hemlock     
spruce of ,america2 which1 while growing
  by itself in open ground1 is the most 
wilful and fantastic1 as well as  the   
most graceful1 of all the firs2         
imitating the shape1 not of its         
kindred1 but of an enormous tuft of     
fern4    ,yet if you look at the same   
tree1 when it has struggled long for    
life  from its youth amid other trees of
 its own kind and its own age2 you find 

that the lower boughs have died off from
 want of light1 leaving not a  scar     
behind4  ,the upper boughs have reached 
at once the light1 and their  natural   
term of years4  ,they are content to    
live1 and little more4  ,the  central   
trunk no longer sends up each year a    
fresh perpendicular shoot to  aspire    
above the rest3 but as weary of         
struggling ambition as they are1  is    
content to become more and more their   
equal as the years pass by4  ,and  this 
is a law of social forest trees1 which  
you must bear in mind1  whenever ,i     
speak of the influence of tree-forms on 
,gothic architecture4    ,such forms as 
these are rare enough in ,europe now4   
,i never understood  how possible1 how  
common1 they must have been in medieval 
,europe1 till ,i  saw in the forest of  
,fontainebleau a few oaks like the oak  
of  ,charlemagne1 and the ,bouquet du   
,roi1 at whose age ,i dare not guess1   
but  whose size and shape showed them to
 have once formed part of a continuous  

wood1 the like whereof remains not in   
these isles--perhaps not east of  the   
,carpathian ,mountains4  ,in them a     
clear shaft of at least sixty1 it  may  
be eighty feet1 carries a flat head of  
boughs1 each in itself a tree4  ,in such
 a grove1 ,i thought1 the heathen ,gaul1
 even the heathen ,frank1  worshipped1  
beneath trees of ,god4  ,such trees1 ,i 
thought1 centuries  after1 inspired the 
genius of every builder of ,gothic      
aisles and roofs4    ,thus1 at least1 we
 can explain that rigidity1 which ,mr4  
,ruskin tells us1  is a special element 
of ,gothic architecture4  ,greek and    
,egyptian  buildings1 he says--and ,i   
should have added1 ,roman buildings     
also1 in  proportion to their age1 i4e41
 to the amount of the ,roman elements in
  them--stand for the most part1 by     
their own weight and mass1 one stone    
passively incumbent on another3 but in  
the ,gothic vaults and traceries  there 
is a stiffness analogous to that of the 
bones of a limb1 or fibres  of a tree2  

an elastic tension and communication of 
force from part to  part2 and also a    
studious expression of this throughout  
every part of the  building4  ,in a     
word1 ,gothic vaulting and tracery have 
been studiously  made like to boughs of 
trees4  ,were those boughs present to   
the mind of  the architect8  ,or is the 
coincidence merely fortuitous8  ,you    
know  already how ,i should answer4     
,the cusped arch1 too1 was it actually  
not  intended to imitate vegetation8    
,mr4 ,ruskin seems to think so4  ,he    
says  that it is merely the special     
application to the arch of the great    
ornamental system of foliation1 which1  
whether simple as in the cusped  arch1  
or complicated as in tracery1 arose out 
of the love of leafage4  ,not  that the 
form of the arch is intended to imitate 
a leaf1 but to be  invested with the    
same characters of beauty which the     
designer had  discovered in the leaf4   
,now ,i differ from ,mr4 ,ruskin with   
extreme  hesitation4  ,i agree that the 

cusped arch is not meant to imitate a   
leaf4  ,i think with ,mr4 ,ruskin1 that 
it was probably first adopted on account
 of  its superior strength2 and that it 
afterwards took the form of a bough4    
,but ,i cannot as yet believe that it   
was not at last intended to imitate a   
bough2 a bough of a very common form1   
and one in which active rigidity  is    
peculiarly shown4  ,i mean a bough which
 has forked4  ,if the lower fork  has   
died off1 for want of light1 we obtain  
something like the simply  cusped arch4 
,if it be still living--but short and   
stunted in comparison  with the higher  
fork--we obtain1 it seems to me1        
something like the  foliated cusp2 both 
likenesses being near enough to those of
 common  objects to make it possible    
that those objects may have suggested   
them4  ,and thus1 more and more boldly1 
the mediaeval architect learnt to copy  
boughs1 stems1 and1 at last1 the whole  
effect1 as far always as stone  would   
allow1 of a combination of rock and     

tree1 of grot and grove4    ,so he      
formed his minsters1 as ,i believe1 upon
 the model of those leafy  minsters in  
which he walked to meditate1 amid the   
aisles which ,god1 not  man1 has built4 
,he sent their columns aloft like the   
boles of ancient  trees4  ,he wreathed  
their capitals1 sometimes their very    
shafts1 with  flowers and creeping      
shoots4  ,he threw their arches out1 and
 interwove  the groinings of their      
vaults1 like the bough-roofage overhead4
  ,he  decked with foliage and fruit the
 bosses above and the corbels below4    
,he  sent up out of those corbels       
upright shafts along the walls1 in the  
likeness of the trees which sprang out  
of the rocks above his head4  ,he       
raised those walls into great cliffs4   
,he pierced them with the arches of  the
 triforium1 as with hermits' cells4  ,he
 represented in the horizontal  sills of
 his windows1 and in his horizontal     
string-courses1 the  horizontal strata  
of the rocks4  ,he opened the windows   

into high and  lofty glades1 broken1 as 
in the forest1 by the tracery of stems  
and  boughs1 through which was seen1 not
 merely the outer1 but the upper  world4
  ,for he craved1 as all true artists   
crave1 for light and colour2  and had   
the sky above been one perpetual blue1  
he might have been content  with it1 and
 left his glass transparent4  ,but in   
that dark dank northern  clime1 rain and
 snowstorm1 black cloud and grey mist1  
were all that he  was like to see       
outside for nine months in the year4    
,so he took such  light and colour as   
nature gave in her few gayer moods2 and 
set aloft his  stained glass windows the
 hues of the noonday and the rainbow1   
and the  sunrise and the sunset1 and the
 purple of the heather1 and the gold of 
the gorse1 and the azure of the bugloss1
 and the crimson of the poppy2  and     
among them1 in gorgeous robes1 the      
angels and the saints of heaven1  and   
the memories of heroic virtues and      
heroic sufferings1 that he might  lift  

up his own eyes and heart for ever out  
of the dark1 dank1 sad world  of the    
cold north1 with all its coarsenesses   
and its crimes1 toward a  realm of      
perpetual holiness1 amid a perpetual    
summer of beauty and of  light2 as one  
who--for he was true to nature1 even in 
that--from between  the black jaws of a 
narrow glen1 or from beneath the black  
shade of  gnarled trees1 catches a      
glimpse of far lands gay with gardens   
and  cottages1 and purple mountain      
ranges1 and the far off sea1 and the    
hazy  horizon melting into the hazy sky2
 and finds his heart carried out into   
an infinite at once of freedom and of   
repose4    ,and so out of the cliffs and
 the forests he shaped the inside of his
  church4  ,and how did he shape the    
outside8  ,look for yourselves1 and     
judge4  ,but look3 not at ,chester1 but 
at ,salisbury4  ,look at those  churches
 which carry not mere towers1 but       
spires1 or at least pinnacled  towers   
approaching the pyrmidal form4  ,the    

outside form of every ,gothic  cathedral
 must be considered imperfect if it does
 not culminate in  something pyramidal4 
,the especial want of all ,greek and    
,roman buildings with which we are      
acquainted is the absence--save in a few
 and unimportant cases--of the          
pyramidal form4  ,the ,egyptians knew at
 least the worth of the obelisk3  but   
the ,greeks and ,romans hardly knew even
 that3 their buildings are flat-        
topped4  ,their builders were contented 
with the earth as it was4  ,there  was a
 great truth involved in that2 which ,i 
am the last to deny4  ,but  religions   
which1 like the ,buddhist or the        
,christian1 nurse a noble self-         
discontent1 are sure to adopt sooner or 
later an upward and aspiring form  of   
building4  ,it is not merely that1      
fancying heaven to be above earth1  they
 point towards heaven4  ,there is a     
deeper natural language in the          
pyramidal form of a growing tree4  ,it  
symbolises growth1 or the desire of     

growth4  ,the ,norman tower does nothing
 of the kind4  ,it does not aspire  to  
grow4  ,look--,i mention an instance    
with which ,i am most familiar--at  the 
,norman tower of ,bury ,st4 ,edmund's4  
,it is graceful--awful1 if you          
will--but there is no aspiration in it4 
,it is stately3 but self-content4  ,its 
horizontal courses2 circular arches2    
above all1 its flat sky-line1  seem to  
have risen enough3 and wish to rise no  
higher4  ,for it has no  touch of that  
unrest of soul1 which is expressed by   
the spire1 and still  more by the       
compound spire1 with its pinnacles1     
crockets1 finials1 which  are finials   
only in name2 for they do not finish1   
and are really terminal  buds1 as it    
were1 longing to open and grow upward1  
even as the crockets  are bracts and    
leaves thrown off as the shoot has      
grown4    ,you feel1 surely1 the truth  
of these last words4  ,you cannot look  
at the  canopy work or the pinnacle work
 of this cathedral without seeing that  

they do not merely suggest buds and     
leaves1 but that the buds and leaves    
are there carven before your eyes4  ,i  
myself cannot look at the  tabernacle   
work of our stalls without being        
reminded of the young pine  forests     
which clothe the ,hampshire moors4  ,but
 if the details are copied  from        
vegetable forms1 why not the whole8  ,is
 not a spire like a growing  tree1 a    
tabernacle like a fir-tree1 a compound  
spire like a group of  firs8  ,and if we
 can see that3 do you fancy that the man
 who planned the  spire did not see it  
as clearly as we do2 and perhaps more   
clearly still8    ,i am aware1 of       
course1 that ,norman architecture had   
sometimes its  pinnacle1 a mere conical 
or polygonal capping4  ,i am aware that 
this  form1 only more and more slender1 
lasted on in ,england during the        
thirteenth and the early part of the    
fourteenth century2 and on the          
,continent1 under many modifications1   
one ,english kind whereof is usually    

called a broach1 of which you have a    
beautiful specimen in the new  church at
 ,hoole4    ,now1 no one will deny that 
that broach is beautiful4  ,but it would
 be  difficult to prove that its form   
was taken from a ,north ,european tree4 
,the cypress was unknown1 probably1 to  
our northern architects4  ,the          
,lombardy poplar--which has wandered    
hither1 ,i know not when1 all the way   
from ,cashmere--had not wandered then1  
,i believe1 further than ,north  ,italy4
  ,the form is rather that of mere      
stone2 of the obelisk1 or of the        
mountain peak2 and they1 in fact1 may   
have at first suggested the spire4  ,the
 grandeur of an isolated mountain1 even 
of a dolmen or single upright  stone1 is
 evident to all4    ,but it is the      
grandeur1 not of aspiration1 but of     
defiance2 not of the  ,christian2 not   
even of the ,stoic3 but rather of the   
,epicurean4  ,it says--,i  cannot rise4 
,i do not care to rise4  ,i will be     
contentedly and valiantly  that which ,i

 am2 and face circumstances1 though ,i  
cannot conquer them4  ,but it is        
defiance under defeat4  ,the            
mountain-peak does not grow1 but  only  
decays4  ,fretted by rains1 peeled by   
frost1 splintered by lightning1  it must
 down at last2 and crumble into earth1  
were it as old1 as hard1 as  lofty as   
the ,matterhorn itself4  ,and while it  
stands1 it wants not only  aspiration1  
it wants tenderness2 it wants humility2 
it wants the unrest  which tenderness   
and humility must breed1 and which ,mr4 
,ruskin so clearly  recognises in the   
best ,gothic art4  ,and1 meanwhile1 it  
wants naturalness4  ,the mere smooth    
spire or broach--,i had almost said1    
even the spire of  ,salisbury--is like  
no tall or commanding object in ,nature4
  ,it is merely  the caricature of one2 
it may be of the mountain-peak4  ,the   
outline must  be broken1 must be        
softened1 before it can express the soul
 of a creed  which1 in the thirteenth   
and fourteenth centuries far more than  

now1 was  one of penitence as well as of
 aspiration1 of passionate emotion as   
well  as of lofty faith4  ,but a shape  
which will express that soul must be    
sought1 not among mineral1 but among    
vegetable1 forms4  ,and remember        
always1 if we feel thus even now1 how   
much more must those medieval men  of   
genius have felt thus1 whose work we now
 dare only copy line by line8    ,so--as
 it seems to me--they sought among      
vegetable forms for what they  needed3  
and they found it at once in the pine1  
or rather the fir1--the  spruce and     
silver firs of their own forests4  ,they
 are not1 of course1  indigenous to     
,england4  ,but they are so common      
through all the rest of  ,europe1 that  
not only would the form suggest itself  
to a ,continental  architect1 but to any
 ,english clerk who travelled1 as all   
did who could1  across the ,alps to     
,rome4  ,the fir-tree1 not growing on   
level ground1 like  the oaks of         
,fontainebleau1 into one flat roof of   

foliage1 but clinging to  the hill-side 
and the crag1 old above young1 spire    
above spire1 whorl  above whorl--for the
 young shoots of each whorl of boughs   
point upward in  the spring2 and now and
 then a whole bough1 breaking away1 as  
it were1  into free space1 turns upward 
altogether1 and forms a secondary spire 
on  the same tree--this surely was the  
form which the mediaeval architect      
seized1 to clothe with it the sides and 
roof of the stone mountain which  he had
 built2 piling up pinnacles and spires1 
each crocketed at the  angles2 that1    
like a group of firs upon an isolated   
rock1 every point of  the building might
 seem in act to grow toward heaven1 till
 his idea  culminated in that glorious  
,minster of ,cologne1 which1 if it ever 
be  completed1 will be the likeness of  
one forest-clothed group of cliffs1     
surmounted by three enormous pines4     
,one feature of the ,norman temple he   
could keep2 for it was copied from  the 
same nature which he was trying to      

copy--namely1 the high-pitched  roof and
 gables4  ,mr4 ,ruskin lays it down as a
 law1 that the acute angle  in roofs1   
gables1 spires1 is the distinguishing   
mark of northern ,gothic4  ,it was      
adopted1 most probably1 at first from   
domestic buildings4  ,a  northern house 
or barn must have a high-pitched roof3  
or the snow will  not slip off it4  ,but
 that fact was not discovered by man2 it
 was copied  by him from the rocks      
around4  ,he saw the mountain peak jut  
black and  bare above the snows of      
winter2 he saw those snows slip down in 
sheets1  rush down in torrents under the
 sun1 from the steep slabs of rock which
  coped the hill-side2 and he copied1 in
 his roofs1 the rocks above his  town4  
,but as the love for decoration arose1  
he would deck his roofs as  nature had  
decked hers1 till the grey sheets of the
 cathedral slates  should stand out amid
 pinnacles and turrets rich with        
foliage1 as the  grey mountain sides    
stood out amid knolls of feathery birch 

and towering  pine4    ,he failed1      
though he failed nobly4  ,he never      
succeeded in attaining a  perfectly     
natural style4    ,the medieval         
architects were crippled to the last by 
the tradition of  artificial ,roman     
forms4  ,they began improving them into 
naturalness1  without any clear notion  
of what they wanted2 and when that      
notion became  clear1 it was too late4  
,take1 as an instance1 the tracery of   
their  windows4  ,it is true1 as ,mr4   
,ruskin says1 that they began by        
piercing  holes in a wall of the form of
 a leaf1 which developed1 in the rose   
window1 into the form of a star inside1 
and of a flower outside4  ,look at  such
 aloft there4  ,then1 by introducing    
mullions and traceries into the  lower  
part of the window1 they added stem and 
bough forms to those flower  forms4     
,but the two did not fit4  ,look at the 
west window of our choir1  and you will 
see what ,i mean4  ,the upright mullions
 break off into bough  curves graceful  

enough3 but these are cut short--as ,i  
hold1 spoiled--by  circular and         
triangular forms of rose and trefoil    
resting on them as such  forms never    
rest in ,nature2 and the whole1 though  
beautiful1 is only half  beautiful4  ,it
 is fragmentary1 unmeaning1 barbaric1   
because unnatural4    ,they failed1 too1
 it may be1 from the very paucity of the
 vegetable forms  they could find to    
copy among the flora of this colder     
clime2 and so1  stopped short in drawing
 from nature1 ran off into mere         
purposeless  luxuriance4  ,had they been
 able to add to their stock of memories 
a  hundred forms which they would have  
seen in the ,tropics1 they might have   
gone on for centuries copying ,nature   
without exhausting her4    ,and yet1 did
 they exhaust even the few forms of     
beauty which they saw  around them8  ,it
 must be confessed that they did not4   
,i believe that  they could not1 because
 they dared not4  ,the unnaturalness of 
the creed  which they expressed always  

hampered them4  ,it forbade them to look
  ,nature freely and lovingly in the    
face4  ,it forbade them--as one glaring 
example--to know anything truly of the  
most beautiful of all natural           
objects--the human form4  ,they were    
tempted perpetually to take ,nature as  
ornament1 not as basis2 and they yielded
 at last to the temptation2 till1  in   
the age of ,perpendicular architecture1 
their very ornament became  unnatural   
again2 because conventional1 untrue1    
meaningless4    ,but the creed for which
 they worked was dying by that time1 and
 therefore  the art which expressed it  
must needs die too4  ,and even that     
death1 or  rather the approach of it1   
was symbolised truly in the flatter     
roof1 the  four-centred arch1 the       
flat-topped tower of the                
fifteenth-century church4  ,the creed   
had ceased to aspire3 so did the        
architecture4  ,it had ceased  to grow3 
so did the temple4  ,and the arch sank  
lower2 and the rafters  grew more       

horizontal2 and the likeness to the old 
tree1 content to grow  no more1 took the
 place of the likeness to the young tree
 struggling  toward the sky4    ,and    
now--unless you are tired of listening  
to me--a few practical words4    ,we are
 restoring our old cathedral stone by   
stone after its ancient  model4  ,we are
 also trying to build a new church4  ,we
 are building it--as  most new churches 
in ,england are now built--in a pure    
,gothic style4    ,are we doing right8  
,i do not mean morally right4  ,it is   
always morally  right to build a new    
church1 if needed1 whatever be its      
architecture4  ,it  is always morally   
right to restore an old church1 if it be
 beautiful and  noble1 as an heirloom   
handed down to us by our ancestors1     
which we have  no right--,i say1 no     
right--for the sake of our children1 and
 of our  children's children1 to leave  
to ruin4    ,but are we artistically1   
aesthetically right8  ,is the best      
,gothic fit for  our worship8  ,does it 

express our belief8  ,or shall we choose
 some other  style8    ,i say that it   
is2 and that it is so because it is a   
style which1 if not  founded on ,nature1
 has taken into itself more of ,nature1 
of ,nature  beautiful and healthy1 than 
any other style4    ,with greater       
knowledge of ,nature1 both geographical 
and scientific1 fresh  styles of        
architecture may and will arise1 as much
 more beautiful1 and as  much more      
natural1 than the ,gothic1 as ,gothic is
 more beautiful and  natural than the   
,norman4  ,till then we must take the   
best models which we  have2 use them2   
and1 as it were1 use them up and exhaust
 them4  ,by that  time we may have      
learnt to improve on them2 and to build 
churches more  ,gothic than ,gothic     
itself1 more like grot and grove than   
even a northern  cathedral4    ,that is 
the direction in which we must work4    
,and if any shall say to us1  as it has 
been said ere now--,after all1 your new 
,gothic churches are but  imitations1   

shams1 borrowed symbols1 which to you   
symbolise nothing4  ,they  are ,romish  
churches1 meant to express ,romish      
doctrine1 built for a  ,protestant creed
 which they do not express1 and for a   
,protestant worship  which they will not
 fit4  ,then we shall answer--,not so4  
,the objection  might be true if we     
built ,norman or ,romanesque churches2  
for we should  then be returning to that
 very foreign and unnatural style which 
,rome  taught our forefathers1 and from 
which they escaped gradually into the   
comparative freedom1 the comparative    
naturalness of that true ,gothic of     
which ,mr4 ,ruskin says so well3--      
,it is gladdening to remember that1 in  
its utmost nobleness1 the very          
temper which has been thought most      
averse to it1 the ,protestant temper    
of self-dependence and inquiry1 were    
expressed in every case4  ,faith     and
 aspiration there were in every         
,christian ecclesiastical building      
from the first century to the fifteenth3

 but the moral habits to which          
,england in this age owes the kind of   
greatness which she has--the     habits 
of philosophical investigation1 of      
accurate thought1 of     domestic       
seclusion and independence1 of stern    
self-reliance1 and     sincere upright  
searching into religious truth1--were   
only traceable     in the features which
 were the distinctive creations of the  
,gothic     schools1 in the varied      
foliage and thorny fretwork1 and shadowy
 niche1     and buttressed pier1 and    
fearless height of subtle pinnacle and  
crested tower1 sent 'like an unperplexed
 question up to heaven4'    ,so says    
,mr4 ,ruskin4  ,i1 for one1 endorse his 
gallant words4  ,and ,i think  that a   
strong proof of their truth is to be    
found in two facts1 which  seem at first
 paradoxical4  ,first1 that the new     
,roman ,catholic churches  on the       
,continent--,i speak especially of      
,france1 which is the most highly       
cultivated ,romanist country--are1 like 

those which the ,jesuits built in  the  
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries1   
less and less ,gothic4  ,the  former    
were sham-classic2 the latter are rather
 of a new fantastic  ,romanesque1 or    
rather ,byzantinesque style1 which is a 
real retrogression  from ,gothic towards
 earlier and less natural schools4      
,next1 that the  ,puritan communions1   
the ,kirk of ,scotland and the ,english 
,nonconformists1  as they are becoming  
more cultivated--and there are now many 
highly  cultivated men among them--are  
introducing ,gothic architecture more   
and  more into their churches4  ,there  
are elements in it1 it seems1 which do  
not contradict their ,puritanism2       
elements which they can adapt to their  
own worship2 namely1 the very elements  
which ,mr4 ,ruskin has discerned4       
,but if they can do so1 how much more   
can we of the ,church of ,england8  ,as 
long as we go on where our medieval     
forefathers left off2 as long as we     
keep to the most perfect types of their 

work1 in waiting for the day when  we   
shall be able to surpass them1 by making
 our work even more  naturalistic than  
theirs1 more truly expressive of the    
highest  aspirations of humanity3 so    
long we are reverencing them1 and that  
latent  ,protestantism in them1 which   
produced at last the ,reformation4      
,and if any should say--,nevertheless1  
your ,protestant ,gothic church1  though
 you made it ten times more beautiful1  
and more symbolic1 than  ,cologne       
,minster itself1 would still be a sham4 
,for where would be your  images8  ,and 
still more1 where would be your ,host8  
,do you not know that  in the medieval  
church the vistas of its arcades1 the   
alternations of its  lights and shadows1
 the gradations of its colouring1 and   
all its  carefully subordinated wealth  
of art1 pointed to1 were concentrated   
round1 one sacred spot1 as a curve1     
however vast its sweep though space1    
tends at every moment toward a single   
focus8  ,and that spot1 that focus1     

was1 and is still1 in every ,romish     
church1 the body of ,god1 present upon  
the altar in the form of bread8         
,without ,him1 what is all your         
building8  ,your church is empty3 your  
altar bare2 a throne without a king2 an 
eye-  socket without an eye4    ,my     
friends1 if we be true children of those
 old worthies1 whom ,tacitus  saw       
worshipping beneath the ,german oaks2 we
 shall have but one answer to  that     
scoff3--    ,we know it2 and we glory in
 the fact4  ,we glory in it1 as the old 
,jews  gloried in it1 when the ,roman   
soldiers1 bursting through the ,temple1 
and  into the ,holy of ,holies itself1  
paused in wonder and in awe when they   
beheld neither ,god1 nor image of ,god1 
but blank yet all-suggestive--the  empty
 mercy-seat4    ,like theirs1 our altar 
is an empty throne4  ,for it symbolises 
our worship  of ,him who dwelleth not in
 temples made with hands2 whom the      
heaven and  the heaven of heavens cannot
 contain4  ,our eye-socket holds no eye4

  ,for  it symbolises our worship of    
that ,eye which is over all the earth2  
which  is about our path1 and about our 
bed1 and spies out all our ways4  ,we   
need no artificial and material presence
 of ,deity4  ,for we believe in  ,that  
,one ,eternal and ,universal ,real      
,presence--of which it is written ,he   
is not far from any one of us2 for in   
,god we live1 and move1 and have our    
being2 and again1 ,lo1 ,i am with you1  
even to the ,end of the ,world2 and     
again--,wheresoever two or three are    
gathered together in ,my ,name1 there   
am ,i in the midst of them4    ,he is   
the ,god of nature1 as well as the ,god 
of grace4  ,for ever ,he looks  down on 
all things which ,he has made3 and      
behold1 they are very good4  ,and1      
therefore1 we dare offer to ,him1 in our
 churches1 the most perfect  works of   
naturalistic art1 and shape them into   
copies of whatever beauty  ,he has shown
 us1 in man or woman1 in cave or        
mountain peak1 in tree or  flower1 even 

in bird or butterfly4    ,but           
,himself8--,who can see ,him8  ,except  
the humble and the contrite heart1  to  
whom ,he reveals ,himself as a ,spirit  
to be worshipped in spirit and in       
truth1 and not in bread1 nor wood1 nor  
stone1 nor gold1 nor  quintessential    
diamond4    ,so we shall obey the sound 
instinct of our ,christian forefathers1 
when  they shaped their churches into   
forest aisles1 and decked them with the 
boughs of the woodland1 and the flowers 
of the field3 but we shall obey  too1   
that sounder instinct of theirs1 which  
made them at last cast out of  their own
 temples1 as misplaced and unnatural    
things1 the idols which  they had       
inherited from ,rome4    ,so we shall   
obey the sound instinct of our heathen  
forefathers1 when they  worshipped the  
unknown ,god beneath the oaks of the    
primeval forest3 but  we shall obey1    
too1 that sounder instinct of theirs1   
which taught them  this1 at least1      
concerning ,god--,that it was beneath   

,his dignity to coop  ,him within walls2
 and that the grandest forms of nature1 
as well as the  deepest consciousnesses 
of their own souls1 revealed to them a  
mysterious  ,being1 who was to be beheld
 by faith alone4          ,,george      
,,buchanan1 ,,scholar      ,the scholar1
 in the sixteenth century1 was a far    
more important personage  than now4     
,the supply of learned men was very     
small1 the demand for them  very great4 
,during the whole of the fifteenth1 and 
a great part of the  sixteenth century1 
the human mind turned more and more from
 the  scholastic philosophy of the      
,middle ,ages to that of the ,romans and
 the  ,greeks2 and found more and more  
in old ,pagan ,art an element which     
,monastic ,art had not1 and which was   
yet necessary for the full  satisfaction
 of their craving after the ,beautiful4 
,at such a crisis of  thought and taste1
 it was natural that the classical      
scholar1 the man who  knew old ,rome1   
and still more old ,greece1 should usurp

 the place of the  monk1 as teacher of  
mankind2 and that scholars should form1 
for a while1  a new and powerful        
aristocracy1 limited and privileged1 and
 all the more  redoubtable1 because its 
power lay in intellect1 and had been won
 by  intellect alone4    ,those who1    
whether poor or rich1 did not fear the  
monk and priest1 at  least feared the   
scholar1 who held1 so the vulgar        
believed1 the keys of  that magic lore  
by which the old necromancers had built 
cities like ,rome1  and worked marvels  
of mechanical and chemical skill1 which 
the degenerate  modern could never      
equal4    ,if the scholar stopped in a  
town1 his hostess probably begged of him
 a  charm against toothache or          
rheumatism4  ,the penniless knight      
discoursed  with him on alchemy1 and the
 chances of retrieving his fortune by   
the art  of transmuting metals into     
gold4  ,the queen or bishop worried him 
in  private about casting their         
nativities1 and finding their fates     

among the  stars4  ,but the statesman1  
who dealt with more practical matters1  
hired  him as an advocate and           
rhetorician1 who could fight his        
master's enemies  with the weapons of   
,demosthenes and ,cicero4  ,wherever the
 scholar's steps  were turned1 he might 
be master of others1 as long as he was  
master of  himself4  ,the complaints    
which he so often uttered concerning the
 cruelty  of fortune1 the fickleness of 
princes1 and so forth1 were probably no 
more just then than such complaints are 
now4  ,then1 as now1 he got his         
deserts2 and the world bought him at his
 own price4  ,if he chose to sell       
himself to this patron and to that1 he  
was used and thrown away3 if he  chose  
to remain in honourable independence1 he
 was courted and feared4    ,among the  
successful scholars of the sixteenth    
century1 none surely is  more notable   
than ,george ,buchanan4  ,the poor      
,scotch widow's son1 by force  of native
 wit1 and1 as ,i think1 by force of     

native worth1 fights his way  upward1   
through poverty and severest            
persecution1 to become the              
correspondent and friend of the greatest
 literary celebrities of the            
,continent1 comparable1 in their        
opinion1 to the best ,latin poets of    
antiquity2 the preceptor of princes2 the
 counsellor and spokesman of  ,scotch   
statesmen in the most dangerous of      
times2 and leaves behind him  political 
treatises1 which have influenced not    
only the history of his  own country1   
but that of the civilised world4        
,such a success could not be attained   
without making enemies1 perhaps  without
 making mistakes4  ,but the more we     
study ,george ,buchanan's  history1 the 
less we shall be inclined to hunt out   
his failings1 the more  inclined to     
admire his worth4  ,a shrewd1           
sound-hearted1 affectionate man1  with a
 strong love of right and scorn of      
wrong1 and a humour withal which  saved 
him--except on really great             

occasions--from bitterness1 and helped  
him to laugh where narrower natures     
would have only snarled1--he is1 in     
many respects1 a type of those ,lowland 
,scots1 who long preserved his  jokes1  
genuine or reputed1 as a common         
household book4 #cbh  ,a  schoolmaster  
by profession1 and struggling for long  
years amid the  temptations which1 in   
those days1 degraded his class into     
cruel and  sordid pedants1 he rose from 
the mere pedagogue to be1 in the best   
sense  of the word1 a courtier2 ,one1   
says ,daniel ,heinsius1 who seemed not  
only born for a court1 but born to amend
 it4  ,he brought to his queen  that at 
which she could not wonder enough4      
,for1 by affecting a certain  liberty in
 censuring morals1 he avoided all       
offence1 under the cloak of  simplicity4
  ,of him and his compeers1 ,turnebus1  
and ,muretus1 and their  friend ,andrea 
,govea1 ,ronsard1 the ,french court     
poet1 said that they had  nothing of the
 pedagogue about them but the gown and  

cap4  ,austere in  face1 and rustic in  
his looks1 says ,david ,buchanan1 but   
most polished  in style and speech2 and 
continually1 even in serious            
conversation1  jesting most wittily4    
,roughhewn1 slovenly1 and rude1 says    
,peacham1 in  his ',compleat            
,gentleman1' speaking of him1 probably1 
as he appeared in  old age1 in his      
person1 behaviour1 and fashion2 seldom  
caring for a  better outside than a     
rugge-gown girt close about him3 yet his
 inside and  conceipt in poesie was most
 rich1 and his sweetness and facilitie  
in  verse most excellent4  ,a typical   
,lowland ,scot1 as ,i said just now1 he 
seems to have absorbed all the best     
culture which ,france could afford  him1
 without losing the strength1 honesty1  
and humour which he inherited  from his 
,stirlingshire kindred4    ,the story of
 his life is easily traced4  ,when an   
old man1 he himself  wrote down the main
 events of it1 at the request of his    
friends2 and his  sketch has been filled

 out by commentators1 if not always     
favourable1 at  least erudite4  ,born in
 #aejf1 at the ,moss1 in                
,killearn--where an obelisk  to his     
memory1 so one reads1 has been erected  
in this century--of a  family rather    
ancient than rich1 his father dead in   
the prime of  manhood1 his grandfather a
 spendthrift1 he and his seven brothers 
and  sisters were brought up by a       
widowed mother1 ,agnes ,heriot--of whom 
one  wishes to know more2 for the rule  
that great sons have great mothers      
probably holds good in her case4        
,george gave signs1 while at the village
  school1 of future scholarship2 and    
when he was only fourteen1 his uncle    
,james sent him to the ,university of   
,paris4  ,those were hard times2 and    
the youths1 or rather boys1 who meant to
 become scholars1 had a cruel  life of  
it1 cast desperately out on the wide    
world to beg and starve1  either into   
self-restraint and success1 or into ruin
 of body and soul4  ,and a cruel life   

,george had4  ,within two years he was  
down in a severe  illness1 his uncle    
dead1 his supplies stopped2 and the boy 
of sixteen got  home1 he does not tell  
how4  ,then he tried soldiering2 and was
 with  ,albany's ,french ,auxiliaries at
 the ineffectual attack on ,wark        
,castle4  ,marching back through deep   
snow1 he got a fresh illness1 which kept
 him  in bed all winter4  ,then he and  
his brother were sent to ,st4 ,andrew's1
  where he got his ,b4,a4 at nineteen4  
,the next summer he went to ,france     
once more2 and fell1 he says1 into the  
flames of the ,lutheran sect1  which was
 then spreading far and wide4  ,two     
years of penury followed2  and then     
three years of schoolmastering in the   
,college of ,st4 ,barbe1  which he has  
immortalised--at least for the few who  
care to read modern  ,latin poetry--in  
his elegy on ',the ,miseries of a       
,parisian ,teacher of the  ,humanities4'
  ,the wretched regent master1 pale and 
suffering1 sits up all  night preparing 

his lecture1 biting his nails1 and      
thumping his desk2 and  falls asleep for
 a few minutes1 to start up at the sound
 of the four  o'clock bell1 and be in   
school by five1 his ,virgil in one hand1
 and his  rod in the other1 trying to do
 work on his own account at old         
manuscripts1 and bawling all the while  
at his wretched boys1 who cheat  him1   
and pay each other to answer to truants'
 names4  ,the class is all  wrong4  ,one
 is barefoot1 another's shoe is burst1  
another cries1 another  writes home4    
,then comes the rod1 the sound of blows 
and howls2 and the  day passes in tears4
  ,then mass1 then another lesson1 then 
more blows2  there is hardly time to    
eat4--,i have no space to finish the    
picture of  the stupid misery which1    
,buchanan says1 was ruining his         
intellect1 while  it starved his body4  
,however1 happier days came4  ,gilbert  
,kennedy1 ,earl  of ,cassilis1 who seems
 to have been a noble young gentleman1  
took him as  his tutor for the next five

 years2 and with him he went back to    
,scotland4    ,but there his plain      
speaking got him1 as it did more than   
once afterward1  into trouble4  ,he took
 it into his head to write1 in imitation
 of ,dunbar1  a ,latin poem1 in which   
,st4 ,francis asks him in a dream to    
become a ,grey  ,friar1 and ,buchanan   
answered in language which had the      
unpleasant fault  of being too clever1  
and--to judge from contemporary         
evidence--only too  true4  ,the friars  
said nothing at first3 but when ,king   
,james made  ,buchanan tutor to one of  
his natural sons1 they1 men professing  
meekness1 took the matter somewhat more 
angrily than befitted men so  pious in  
the opinion of the people4  ,so         
,buchanan himself puts it3 but1  to do  
the poor friars justice1 they must have 
been angels1 not men1 if  they did not  
writhe somewhat under the scourge which 
he had laid on them4  ,to be told that  
there was hardly a place in heaven for  
monks1 was hard to  hear and bear4      

,they accused him to the king of heresy3
 but not being  then in favour with     
,james1 they got no answer1 and         
,buchanan was commanded  to repeat the  
castigation4  ,having found out that the
 friars were not to  be touched with    
impunity1 he wrote1 he says1 a short and
 ambiguous poem4  ,but the king1 who    
loved a joke1 demanded something sharp  
and stinging1  and ,buchanan obeyed by  
writing1 but not publishing1 the        
',franciscans1' a  long satire1 compared
 to which the ',somnium' was bland and  
merciful4  ,the  storm rose4  ,cardinal 
,beaton1 ,buchanan says1 wanted to buy  
him of the  king1 and then1 of course1  
burn him1 as he had just burnt five poor
  souls3 so1 knowing ,james's avarice1  
he fled to ,england1 through            
freebooters and pestilence4    ,there he
 found1 he says1 men of both factions   
being burned on the same  day and in the
 same fire--a pardonable                
exaggeration--by ,henry ,,viii41 in  his
 old age more intent on his own safety  

than on the purity of  religion4  ,so to
 his beloved ,france he went again1 to  
find his enemy  ,beaton ambassador at   
,paris4  ,the capital was too hot to    
hold him2 and he  fled south to         
,bourdeaux1 to ,andrea ,govea1 the      
,portuguese principal of the  ,college  
of ,gruienne4  ,as ,professor of ,latin 
at ,bourdeaux1 we find him  presenting a
 ,latin poem to ,charles ,v42 and       
indulging that fancy of his  for ,latin 
poetry which seems to us now-a-days a   
childish pedantry2 which  was then--when
 ,latin was the vernacular tongue of all
 scholars--a  serious1 if not altogether
 a useful1 pursuit4  ,of his tragedies1 
so  famous in their day--the ',baptist1'
 the ',medea1' the ',jephtha1' and the  
',alcestis'--there is neither space nor 
need to speak here1 save to notice  the 
bold declamations in the ',baptist'     
against tyranny and priestcraft2  and to
 notice also that these tragedies gained
 for the poor ,scotsman1 in  the eyes of
 the best scholars of ,europe1 a credit 

amounting almost to  veneration4  ,when 
he returned to ,paris1 he found         
occupation at once2  and--as his ,scots 
biographers love to record--three of the
 most learned  men in the world taught  
humanity in the same college1 viz41     
,turnebus1  ,muretus1 and ,buchanan4    
,then followed a strange episode in his 
life4  ,a university had been  founded  
at ,coimbra1 in ,portugal1 and ,andrea  
,govea had been invited to  bring       
thither what ,french savans he could    
collect4  ,buchanan went to  ,portugal  
with his brother ,patrick2 two more     
,scotsmen1 ,dempster and  ,ramsay3 and a
 goodly company of ,french scholars1    
whose names and  histories may be read  
in the erudite pages of ,dr4 ,irving1   
went likewise4  ,all prospered in the   
new ,temple of the ,muses for a year or 
so4  ,then its  high-priest1 ,govea1    
died2 and1 by a peripeteia too common in
 those days  and countries1 ,buchanan   
and two of his friends migrated1        
unwillingly1  from the ,temple of the   

,muses for that of ,moloch1 and found   
themselves in  the ,inquisition4        
,buchanan1 it seems1 had said that ,st4 
,augustine was more of a ,lutheran  than
 a ,catholic on the question of the     
mass4  ,he and his friends had  eaten   
flesh in ,lent2 which1 he says1 almost  
everyone in ,spain did4  ,but  he was   
suspected1 and with reason1 as a        
heretic2 the ,grey ,friars formed  but  
one brotherhood throughout ,europe2 and 
news among them travelled  surely if not
 fast3 so that the story of the satire  
written in ,scotland  had reached       
,portugal4  ,the culprits were          
imprisoned1 examined1  bullied--but not 
tortured--for a year and a half4  ,at   
the end of that  time1 the proofs of    
heresy1 it seems1 were insufficient2 but
 lest--says  ,buchanan with honest      
pride--they should get the reputation of
 having  vainly tormented a man not     
altogether unknown1 they sent him for   
some  months to a monastery1 to be      
instructed by the monks4  ,the men1 he  

says1 were neither inhuman nor bad1 but 
utterly ignorant of religion2  and      
,buchanan solaced himself during the    
intervals of their instructions1  by    
beginning his ,latin translation of the 
,psalms4    ,at last he got free1 and   
begged leave to return to ,france2 but  
in vain4  ,wearied out at last1 he got  
on board a ,candian ship at ,lisbon1 and
  escaped to ,england4  ,but ,england1  
he says1 during the anarchy of ,edward  
,,vi4's reign1 was not a land which     
suited him2 and he returned to his      
beloved ,france1 to fulfil the hopes    
which he had expressed in his  charming 
',desiderium ,lutitiae1' and the still  
more charming1 because more  simple1    
',adventus in ,galliam1' in which he    
bids farewell1 in most  melodious verse1
 to the hungry moors of wretched        
,portugal1 and her clods  fertile in    
naught but penury4    ,some seven years 
succeeded of schoolmastering and        
verse-writing3--,the  ,latin paraphrase 
of the ,psalms2 another of the          

',alcestis' of ,euripides2  an          
,epithalamium on the marriage of poor   
,mary ,stuart1 noble and sincere1       
however fantastic and pedantic1 after   
the manner of the times2 ,pomps1  too1  
for her wedding1 and for other public   
ceremonies1 in which all the  heathen   
gods and goddesses figure2 epigrams1    
panegyrics1 satires1 much of  which     
latter productions he would have        
consigned to the dust-heap in his  old  
age1 had not his too fond friends       
persuaded him to republish the  follies 
and coarsenesses of his youth4  ,he was 
now one of the most famous  scholars in 
,europe1 and the intimate friend of all 
the great literary  men4  ,was he to go 
on to the end1 die1 and no more8  ,was  
he to sink into  the mere pedant2 or1 if
 he could not do that1 into the mere    
court  versifier8    ,the wars of       
religion saved him1 as they saved many  
another noble soul1  from that          
degradation4  ,the events of #aefj-a-b  
forced ,buchanan1 as they  forced many a

 learned man besides1 to choose whether 
he would be a child  of light or a child
 of darkness2 whether he would be a     
dilettante  classicist1 or a            
preacher--it might be a martyr--of the  
,gospel4  ,buchanan  may have left      
,france in the troubles merely to enjoy 
in his own country  elegant and learned 
repose4  ,he may have fancied that he   
had found it1  when he saw himself1 in  
spite of his public profession of       
adherence to  the ,reformed ,kirk1      
reading ,livy every afternoon with his  
exquisite young  sovereign2 master1 by  
her favour1 of the temporalities of     
,crossraguel  ,abbey1 and by the favour 
of ,murray1 ,principal of ,st4          
,leonard's ,college in  ,st4 ,andrew's4 
,perhaps he fancied at times that       
to-morrow was to be as  to-day1 and much
 more abundant2 that thenceforth he     
might read his  folio1 and write his    
epigram1 and joke his joke1 as a lazy   
comfortable  pluralist1 taking his      
morning stroll out to the corner where  

poor ,wishart  had been burned1 above   
the blue sea and the yellow sands1 and  
looking up  to the castle tower from    
whence his enemy ,beaton's corpse had   
been hung  out2 with the comfortable    
reflection that quietier times had come1
 and  that whatever evil deeds          
,archbishop ,hamilton might dare1 he    
would not  dare to put the ,principal of
 ,st4 ,leonard's into the bottle        
dungeon4    ,if such hopes ever crossed 
,geordie's keen fancy1 they were        
disappointed  suddenly and fearfully4   
,the fire which had been kindled in     
,france was to  reach to ,scotland      
likewise4  ,revolutions are not made    
with rose-water2  and the time was at   
hand when all good spirits in ,scotland1
 and ,george  ,buchanan among them1 had 
to choose1 once and for all1 amid       
danger1  confusion1 terror1 whether they
 would serve ,god or ,mammon2 for to    
serve  both would be soon impossible4   
,which side1 in that war of light and   
darkness1 ,george ,buchanan took1 is    

notorious4  ,he saw then1 as others have
 seen since1 that the two men in        
,scotland who were capable of being her 
captains in the strife were ,knox  and  
,murray2 and to them he gave in his     
allegiance heart and soul4    ,this is  
the critical epoch in ,buchanan's life4 
,by his conduct to ,queen  ,mary he must
 stand or fall4  ,it is my belief that  
he will stand4  ,it is  not my intention
 to enter into the details of a matter  
so painful1 so  shocking1 so prodigious2
 and now that that question is finally  
set at  rest1 by the writings both of   
,mr4 ,froude and ,mr4 ,burton1 there is 
no need  to allude to it further1 save  
where ,buchanan's name is concerned4    
,one  may now have every sympathy with  
,mary ,stuart2 one may regard with awe a
  figure so stately1 so tragic1 in one  
sense so heroic1--for she reminds  one  
rather of the heroine of an old ,greek  
tragedy1 swept to her doom by  some     
irresistible fate1 than of a being of   
our own flesh and blood1 and  of our    

modern and ,christian times4  ,one may  
sympathise with the great  womanhood    
which charmed so many while she was     
alive2 which has charmed1  in later     
years1 so many noble spirits who have   
believed in her innocence1  and have    
doubtless been elevated and purified by 
their devotion to one  who seemed to    
them an ideal being4  ,so far from      
regarding her as a  hateful personage1  
one may feel oneself forbidden to hate a
 woman whom  ,god may have loved1 and   
may have pardoned1 to judge from the    
punishment  so swift1 and yet so        
enduring1 which ,he inflicted4  ,at     
least1 he must so  believe who holds    
that punishment is a sign of mercy2 that
 the most  dreadful of all dooms is     
impunity4  ,nay1 more1 those casket     
letters and  sonnets may be a relief to 
the mind of one who believes in her     
guilt on  other grounds2 a relief when  
one finds in them a tenderness1 a       
sweetness1  a delicacy1 a magnificent   
self-sacrifice1 however hideously       

misplaced1  which shows what a womanly  
heart was there2 a heart which1 joined  
to that  queenly brain1 might have made 
her a blessing and a glory to ,scotland1
  had not the whole character been      
warped and ruinate from childhood1 by an
  education so abominable1 that any one 
who knows what words she must have      
heard1 what scenes she must have beheld 
in ,france1 from her youth up1  will    
wonder that she sinned so little3 not   
that she sinned so much4  ,one  may     
feel1 in a word1 that there is every    
excuse for those who have  asserted     
,mary's innocence1 because their own    
high-mindedness shrank from  believing  
her guilty3 but yet ,buchanan1 in his   
own place and time1 may  have felt as   
deeply that he could do no otherwise    
than he did4    ,the charges against    
him1 as all readers of ,scotch          
literature know well1  may be reduced to
 two heads4  #ast4 ,the letters and     
sonnets were  forgeries4  ,maitland of  
,lethington may have forged the letters2

 ,buchanan1  according to some1 the     
sonnets4  ,whoever forged them1         
,buchanan made use  of them in his      
,detection1 knowing them to be forged4  
#bnd4 ,whether ,mary  was innocent or   
not1 ,buchanan acted a base and         
ungrateful part in putting  himself in  
the forefront amongst her accusers4  ,he
 had been her tutor1  her pensioner4    
,she had heaped him with favours2 and1  
after all1 she was  his queen1 and a    
defenceless woman3 and yet he returned  
her kindness1 in  the hour of her fall1 
by invectives fit only for a rancorous  
and reckless  advocate1 determined to   
force a verdict by the basest arts of   
oratory4    ,now as to the casket       
letters4  ,i should have thought they   
bore in  themselves the best evidence of
 being genuine4  ,i can add nothing to  
the  arguments of ,mr4 ,froude and ,mr4 
,burton1 save this3 that no one clever  
enough to be a forger1 would have put   
together documents so incoherent1  and  
so incomplete4  ,for the evidence of    

guilt which they contain is1  after all1
 slight and indirect1 and1 moreover1    
superfluous altogether2  seeing that    
,mary's guilt was open and palpable1    
before the supposed  discovery of the   
letters1 to every person at home and    
abroad who had any  knowledge of the    
facts4  ,as for the alleged             
inconsistency of the letters  with      
proven facts3 the answer is1 that       
whosoever wrote the letters would  be   
more likely to know facts which were    
taking place around them than any       
critic could be one hundred or three    
hundred years afterwards4  ,but if      
these mistakes as to facts actually     
exist in them1 they are only a fresh    
argument for their authenticity4  ,mary1
 writing in agony and confusion1  might 
easily make a mistake3 forgers would    
only take too good care to  make none4  
,but the strongest evidence in favour of
 the letters and sonnets1 in spite  of  
the arguments of good ,dr4 ,whittaker   
and other apologists for ,mary1 is  to  

be found in their tone4  ,a forger in   
those coarse days would have made  ,mary
 write in some ,semiramis or ,roxana    
vein1 utterly alien to the  tenderness1 
the delicacy1 the pitiful confusion of  
mind1 the conscious  weakness1 the      
imploring and most feminine trust which 
makes the letters1  to those who--as ,i 
do--believe in them1 more pathetic than 
any fictitious  sorrows which poets     
could invent4  ,more than one touch1    
indeed1 of utter  self-abasement1 in the
 second letter1 is so unexpected1 so    
subtle1 and  yet so true to the heart of
 woman1 that--as has been well said--if 
it was  invented there must have existed
 in ,scotland an earlier ,shakespeare2  
who  yet has died without leaving any   
other sign1 for good or evil1 of his    
dramatic genius4    ,as for the theory  
7totally unsupported7 that ,buchanan    
forged the poem  usually called the     
,sonnets2 it is paying old ,geordie's   
genius1 however  versatile it may have  
been1 too high a compliment to believe  

that he  could have written both them   
and the ,detection2 while it is paying  
his  shrewdness too low a compliment to 
believe that he could have put into     
them1 out of mere carelessness or       
stupidity1 the well-known line1 which   
seems incompatible with the theory both 
of the letters and of his own           
,detection2 and which has ere now been  
brought forward as a fresh proof of     
,mary's innocence4    ,and1 as with the 
letters1 so with the sonnets3 their     
delicacy1 their  grace1 their reticence1
 are so many arguments against their    
having been  forged by any ,scot of the 
sixteenth century1 and least of all by  
one in  whose character--whatever his   
other virtues may have been--delicacy   
was  by no means the strongest point4   
,as for the complaint that ,buchanan was
 ungrateful to ,mary1 it must be  said3 
,that even if she1 and not ,murray1 had 
bestowed on him the  temporalities of   
,crossraguel ,abbey four years before1  
it was merely fair  pay for services    

fairly rendered2 and ,i am not aware    
that payment1 or  even favours1 however 
gracious1 bind any man's soul and       
conscience in  questions of highest     
morality and highest public importance4 
,and the  importance of that question   
cannot be exaggerated4  ,at a moment    
when  ,scotland seemed struggling in    
death-throes of anarchy1 civil and      
religious1 and was in danger of becoming
 a prey either to ,england or to        
,france1 if there could not be formed   
out of the heart of her a people1       
steadfast1 trusty1 united1 strong       
politically because strong in the fear  
of ,god and the desire of               
righteousness--at such a moment as this1
 a crime  had been committed1 the like  
of which had not been heard in ,europe  
since  the tragedy of ,joan of ,naples4 
,all ,europe stood aghast4  ,the honour 
of  the ,scottish nation was at stake4  
,more than ,mary or ,bothwell were known
  to be implicated in the deed2 and--as 
,buchanan puts it in the opening of  his

 ',de ,jure ,regni'--,the fault of some 
few was charged upon all2 and the       
common hatred of a particular person did
 redound to the whole nation2 so  that  
even such as were remote from any       
suspicion were inflamed by the  infamy  
of men's crimes4 #cdc    ,to vindicate  
the national honour1 and to punish the  
guilty1 as well as to  save themselves  
from utter anarchy1 the great majority  
of the ,scotch  nation had taken        
measures against ,mary which required   
explicit  justification in the sight of 
,europe1 as ,buchanan frankly confesses 
in  the opening of his ,de ,jure ,regni4
  ,the chief authors of those measures  
had been summoned1 perhaps unwisely and 
unjustly1 to answer for their  conduct  
to the ,queen of ,england4  ,queen      
,elizabeth--a fact which was  notorious 
enough then1 though it has been         
forgotten till the last few  years--was 
doing her utmost to shield ,mary4       
,buchanan was deputed1 it  seems1 to    
speak out for the people of ,scotland2  

and certainly never  people had an abler
 apologist4  ,if he spoke fiercely1     
savagely1 it must  be remembered that he
 spoke of a fierce and savage matter2 if
 he used--and  it may be abused--all the
 arts of oratory1 it must be remembered 
that he  was fighting for the honour1   
and it may be for the national life1 of 
his  country1 and striking--as men in   
such cases have a right to strike--as   
hard as he could4  ,if he makes no      
secret of his indignation1 and even     
contempt1 it must be remembered that    
indignation and contempt may well  have 
been real with him1 while they were real
 with the soundest part of  his         
countrymen2 with that reforming middle  
class1 comparatively untainted  by      
,french profligacy1 comparatively       
undebauched by feudal subservience1     
which has been the leaven which has     
leavened the whole ,scottish people in  
the last three centuries with the       
elements of their greatness4  ,if1      
finally1 he heaps up against the unhappy

 ,queen charges which ,mr4 ,burton      
thinks incredible1 it must be remembered
 that1 as he well says1 these  charges  
give the popular feeling about ,queen   
,mary2 and it must be  remembered also1 
that that popular feeling need not have 
been altogether  unfounded4  ,stories   
which are incredible1 thank ,god1 in    
these milder  days1 were credible enough
 then1 because1 alas6 they were so often
 true4  ,things more ugly than any      
related of poor ,mary1 were possible    
enough--as  no one knew better than     
,buchanan--in that very ,french court in
 which ,mary  had been brought up2      
things as ugly were possible in         
,scotland then1 and  for at least a     
century later2 and while we may hope    
that ,buchanan has  overstated his case1
 we must not blame him too severely for 
yielding to a  temptation common to all 
men of genius when their creative power 
is  roused to its highest energy by a   
great cause and a great indignation4    
,and that the genius was there1 no man  

can doubt2 one cannot read that         
hideously eloquent description of ,kirk 
o' ,field1 which ,mr4 ,burton has  well 
chosen as a specimen of ,buchanan's     
style1 without seeing that we are  face 
to face with a genius of a very lofty   
order3 not1 indeed1 of the              
loftiest--for there is always in        
,buchanan's work1 it seems to me1 a want
  of unconsciousness1 and a want of     
tenderness--but still a genius worthy   
to be placed beside those ancient       
writers from whom he took his manner4   
,whether or not we agree with his       
contemporaries1 who say that he equalled
  ,virgil in ,latin poetry1 we may place
 him fairly as a prose writer by the    
side of ,demosthenes1 ,cicero1 or       
,tacitus4  ,and so ,i pass from this    
painful  subject2 only quoting--if ,i   
may be permitted to quote--,mr4         
,burton's wise  and gentle verdict on   
the whole4  ,buchanan1 he says1 though a
 zealous  ,protestant1 had a good deal  
of the ,catholic and sceptical spirit of

  ,erasmus1 and an admiring eye for     
everything that was great and beautiful4
  ,like the rest of his countrymen1 he  
bowed himself in presence of the  lustre
 that surrounded the early career of his
 mistress4  ,more than once  he         
expressed his pride and reverence in the
 inspiration of a genius  deemed by his 
contemporaries to be worthy of the      
theme4  ,there is not1  perhaps1 to be  
found elsewhere in literature so solemn 
a memorial of  shipwrecked hopes1 of a  
sunny opening and a stormy end1 as one  
finds in  turning the leaves of the     
volume which contains the beautiful     
epigram  ',nympha ,caledoniae' in one   
part1 the ',detectio ,mariae ,reginae'  
in  another2 and this contrast is1 no   
doubt1 a faithful parallel of the       
reaction in the popular mind4  ,this    
reaction seems to have been general1    
and not limited to the ,protestant      
party2 for the conditions under which   
it became almost a part of the creed of 
the ,church of ,rome to believe in  her 

innocence had not arisen4    ,if        
,buchanan1 as some of his detractors    
have thought1 raised himself by         
subserviency to the intrigues of the    
,regent ,murray1 the best heads in      
,scotland seem to have been of a        
different opinion4  ,the murder of      
,murray  did not involve ,buchanan's    
fall4  ,he had avenged it1 as far as pen
 could  do it1 by that ',admonition     
,direct to the ,trew ,lordis1' in which 
he showed  himself as great a master of 
,scottish1 as he was of ,latin1 prose4  
,his  satire of the ',chameleon1' though
 its publication was stopped by         
,maitland1 must have been read in       
manuscript by many of those same ,true  
,lords2 and though there were nobler    
instincts in ,maitland than any         
,buchanan gave him credit for1 the      
satire breathed an honest indignation   
against that wily turncoat's misdoings1 
which could not but recommend the       
author to all honest men4  ,therefore it
 was1 ,i presume1 and not because  he   

was a rogue1 and a hired literary       
spadassin1 that to the best heads in    
,scotland he seemed so useful1 it may be
 so worthy1 a man1 that he be  provided 
with continually increasing employment4 
,as tutor to ,james ,i42  as director1  
for a short time1 of the chancery2 as   
keeper of the privy  seal1 and privy    
councillor2 as one of the commissioners 
for codifying the  laws1 and again--for 
in the semi-anarchic state of ,scotland1
 government  had to do everything in the
 way of organisation--in the committee  
for  promulgating a standard ,latin     
grammar2 in the committee for reforming 
the  ,university of ,st4 ,andrew's3 in  
all these ,buchanan's talents were again
  and again called for2 and always      
ready4  ,the value of his work1         
especially that for the reform of ,st4  
,andrew's1 must be judged by            
,scotchmen1 rather than by an           
,englishman3 but all that one knows of  
it  justifies ,melville's sentence in   
the well-known passage in his memoirs1  

wherein he describes the tutors and     
household of the young ,king4  ,mr4     
,george was a ,stoic philosopher1 who   
looked not far before him2 in plain     
words1 a high-minded and right-minded   
man1 bent on doing the duty which  lay  
nearest him4  ,the worst that can be    
said against him during these  times is1
 that his name appears with the sum of  
#ajj pounds against it1 as  one of those
 who were to be entertained in ,scotland
 by pensions out of  ,england2 and      
,ruddiman1 of course1 comments on the   
fact by saying that  ,buchanan was at   
length to act under the threefold       
character of  malcontent1 reformer1 and 
pensioner3 but it gives no proof        
whatsoever  that ,buchanan ever received
 any such bribe2 and in the very month1 
seemingly1 in which that list was       
written--#ajth ,march1 #aegi--;,buchanan
 had  given a proof to the world that he
 was not likely to be bribed or bought1 
by publishing a book1 as offensive      
probably to ,queen ,elizabeth as it was 

to his own royal pupil2 namely1 his     
famous ',de ,jure ,regni apud ,scotos1' 
the very primer1 according to many great
 thinkers1 of constitutional  liberty4  
,he dedicates that book to ,king ,james1
 not only as his monitor1  but also an  
importunate and bold exactor1 which in  
these his tender and  flexible years may
 conduct him in safety past the rocks of
 flattery4  ,he  has complimented ,james
 already on his abhorrence of flattery1 
his  inclination far above his years for
 undertaking all heroical and noble     
attempts1 his promptitude in obeying his
 instructors and governors1 and  all who
 give him sound admonition1 and his     
judgment and diligence in  examining    
affairs1 so that no man's authority can 
have much weight with  him unless it be 
confirmed by probable reasons4          
,buchanan may have  thought that nine   
years of his stern rule had eradicated  
some of ,james's  ill conditions2 the   
petulance which made him kill the       
,master of ,mar's  sparrow1 in trying to

 wrest it out of his hand2 the          
carelessness with  which--if the story  
told by ,chytraeus1 on the authority of 
,buchanan's  nephew1 be true--,james    
signed away his crown to ,buchanan for  
fifteen  days1 and only discovered his  
mistake by seeing ,buchanan act in open 
court the character of ,king of ,scots4 
,buchanan had at last made him a        
scholar2 he may have fancied that he had
 made him likewise a manful man3  yet he
 may have dreaded that1 as ,james grew  
up1 the old inclinations  would return  
in stronger and uglier shapes1 and that 
flattery might be1  as it was after all1
 the cause of ,james's moral ruin4  ,he 
at least will  be no flatterer4  ,he    
opens the dialogue which he sends to the
 king1 with  a calm but distinct        
assertion of his mother's guilt1 and a  
justification  of the conduct of men who
 were now most of them past helping     
,buchanan1  for they were laid in their 
graves2 and then goes on to argue       
fairly1 but  to lay down firmly1 in a   

sort of ,socratic dialogue1 those very  
principles  by loyalty to which the     
,house of ,hanover has reigned1 and will
 reign1  over these realms4  ,so with   
his ,history of ,scotland2 later        
antiquarian  researches have destroyed  
the value of the earlier portions of it3
 but  they have surely increased the    
value of those later portions1 in which 
,buchanan inserted so much which he had 
already spoken out in his  ,detection of
 ,mary4  ,in that book also1 liberavit  
animam suam2 he spoke  his mind1        
fearless of consequences1 in the face of
 a king who he must  have known--for    
,buchanan was no dullard--regarded him  
with deep dislike1  who might in a few  
years be able to work his ruin4    ,but 
those few years were not given to       
,buchanan4  ,he had all but done his    
work1 and he hastened to get it over    
before the night should come wherein  no
 man can work4  ,one must be excused for
 telling--one would not tell it  in a   
book intended to be read only by        

,scotchmen1 who know or ought to  know  
the tale already--how the two ,melvilles
 and ,buchanan's nephew ,thomas  went to
 see him in ,edinburgh1 in ,september1  
#aeha1 hearing that he was  ill1 and his
 ,history still in the press2 and how   
they found the old sage1  true to his   
schoolmaster's instincts1 teaching the  
,hornbook to his  servant-lad2 and how  
he told them that doing that was better 
than  stealing sheep1 or sitting idle1  
which was as bad1 and showed them that  
dedication to ,james ,i41 in which he   
holds up to his imitation as a hero     
whose equal was hardly to be found in   
history1 that very ,king ,david whose   
liberality to the ,romish ,church       
provoked ,james's witticism that ,david 
was a sair saint for the crown4  ,andrew
 ,melville1 so ,james ,melville  says1  
found fault with the style4  ,buchanan  
replied that he could do no  more for   
thinking of another thing1 which was to 
die4  ,they then went to  ,arbuthnot's  
printing-house1 and inspected the       

history1 as far as that  terrible       
passage concerning ,rizzio's burial1    
where ,mary is represented as  laying   
the miscreant almost in the arms of     
,maud de ,valois1 the late  queen4      
,alarmed1 and not without reason1 at    
such plain speaking1 they  stopped the  
press1 and went back to ,buchanan's     
house4  ,buchanan was in  bed4  ,he was 
going1 he said1 the way of welfare4     
,they asked him to  soften the passage2 
the king might prohibit the whole work4 
,tell me1  man1 said ,buchanan1 if ,i   
have told the truth4  ,they could not1  
or  would not1 deny it4  ,then ,i will  
abide his feud1 and all his kin's2      
pray1 pray to ,god for me1 and let ,him 
direct all4  ,so1 says ,melville1  by   
the printing of his chronicle was ended1
 this most learned1 wise1 and  godly man
 ended his mortal life4    ,camden has a
 hearsay story--written1 it must be     
remembered1 in ,james ,i4's  time--that 
,buchanan1 on his death-bed repented of 
his harsh words against  ,queen ,mary2  

and an old ,lady ,rosyth is said to have
 said that when she was  young a certain
 ,david ,buchanan recollected hearing   
some such words from  ,george           
,buchanan's own mouth4  ,those who will1
 may read what ,ruddiman and  ,love have
 said1 and oversaid1 on both sides of   
the question3 whatever  conclusion they 
come to1 it will probably not be that to
 which ,george  ,chalmers comes in his  
life of ,ruddiman3 that ,buchanan1 like 
other liars1  who by the repetition of  
falsehoods are induced to consider the  
fiction  as truth1 had so often dwelt   
with complacency on the forgeries of his
  ,detections1 and the figments of his  
,history1 that he at length regarded    
his fictions and his forgeries as most  
authentic facts4    ,at all events his  
fictions and his forgeries had not paid 
him in that  coin which base men        
generally consider the only coin worth  
having1  namely1 the good things of this
 life4  ,he left nothing behind him--if 
at  least ,dr4 ,irving has rightly      

construed the ,testament ,dative which  
he  gives in his appendix--save arrears 
to the sum of #ajjl4 of his             
,crossraguel pension4  ,we may believe  
as we choose the story in  ,mackenzie's 
',scotch ,writers1' that when he felt   
himself dying1 he asked  his servant    
,young about the state of his funds1 and
 finding he had not  enough to bury     
himself withal1 ordered what he had to  
be given to the  poor1 and said that if 
they did not choose to bury him they    
might let him  lie where he was1 or cast
 him in a ditch1 the matter was very    
little to  him4  ,he was buried1 it     
seems1 at the expense of the city of    
,edinburgh1  in the ,greyfriars'        
,churchyard--one says in a plain turf   
grave--among the  marble monuments which
 covered the bones of worse or meaner   
men2 and  whether or not the            
,throughstone which1 sunk under the     
ground in the  ,greyfriars1 was raised  
and cleaned by the ,council of          
,edinburgh in #agja1  was really ,george

 ,buchanan's1 the reigning powers       
troubled themselves  little for several 
generations where he lay4    ,for       
,buchanan's politics were too advanced  
for his age4  ,not only ,catholic       
,scotsmen1 like ,blackwood1 ,winzet1 and
 ,ninian1 but ,protestants1 like ,sir   
,thomas ,craig and ,sir ,john ,wemyss1  
could not stomach the ',de ,jure        
,regni4'  ,they may have had some reason
 on their side4  ,in the then anarchic  
state  of ,scotland1 organisation and   
unity under a common head may have been 
more important than the assertion of    
popular rights4  ,be that as it may1  in
 #aehd1 only two years after his death1 
the ,scots ,parliament condemned  his   
,dialogue and ,history as untrue1 and   
commanded all possessors of  copies to  
deliver them up1 that they might be     
purged of the offensive  and            
extraordinary matters which they        
contained4  ,the ',de ,jure ,regni' was 
again prohibited in ,scotland1 in #affd1
 even in manuscript2 and in #afhc1  the 

whole of ,buchanan's political works had
 the honour of being burned by  the     
,university of ,oxford1 in company with 
those of ,milton1 ,languet1 and  others1
 as pernicious books1 and damnable      
doctrines1 destructive to the  sacred   
persons of ,princes1 their state and    
government1 and of all human  society4  
,and thus the seed which ,buchanan had  
sown1 and ,milton had  watered--for the 
allegation that ,milton borrowed from   
,buchanan is  probably true1 and equally
 honourable to both--lay trampled into  
the  earth1 and seemingly lifeless1 till
 it tillered out1 and blossomed1 and    
bore fruit to a good purpose1 in the    
,revolution of #afhh4    ,to ,buchanan's
 clear head and stout heart1 ,scotland  
owes1 as ,england owes  likewise1 much  
of her modern liberty4  ,but ,scotland's
 debt to him1 it  seems to me1 is even  
greater on the count of morality1 public
 and  private4  ,what the morality of   
the ,scotch upper classes was like1 in  
,buchanan's early days1 is too          

notorious2 and there remains proof      
enough--in the writings1 for instance1  
of ,sir ,david ,lindsay--that the       
morality of the populace which looked up
 to the nobles as its example and  its  
guide1 was not a whit better4  ,as      
anarchy increased1 immorality was       
likely to increase likewise2 and        
,scotland was in serious danger of      
falling into such a state as that into  
which ,poland fell1 to its ruin1  within
 a hundred and fifty years after2 in    
which the savagery of  feudalism1       
without its order or its chivalry1 would
 be varnished over by  a thin coating of
 ,french civilisation1 and1 as in the   
case of ,bothwell1  the vices of the    
court of ,paris should be added to those
 of the ,northern  freebooter4  ,to     
deliver ,scotland from that ruin1 it was
 needed that she  should be united into 
one people1 strong1 not in mere         
political1 but in  moral ideas2 strong  
by the clear sense of right and wrong1  
by the belief  in the government and the

 judgments of a living ,god4  ,and the  
tone which  ,buchanan1 like ,knox1      
adopted concerning the great crimes of  
their day1  helped notably that national
 salvation4  ,it gathered together1     
organised1  strengthened1 the scattered 
and wavering elements of public         
morality4  ,it  assured the hearts of   
all men who loved the right and hated   
the wrong2  and taught a whole nation to
 call acts by their just names1 whoever 
might  be the doers of them4  ,it       
appealed to the common conscience of    
men4  ,it  proclaimed a universal and   
,god-given morality1 a bar at which all1
 from  the lowest to the highest1 must  
alike be judged4    ,the tone was stern3
 but there was need of sternness4       
,moral life and  death were in the      
balance4  ,if the ,scots people were to 
be told that the  crimes which roused   
their indignation were excusable1 or    
beyond  punishment1 or to be hushed up  
and slipped over in any way1 there was  
an  end of morality among them4  ,every 

man1 from the greatest to the least1    
would go and do likewise1 according to  
his powers of evil4  ,that method  was  
being tried in ,france1 and in ,spain   
likewise1 during those very  years4     
,notorious crimes were hushed up under  
pretence of loyalty2  excused as        
political necessities2 smiled away as   
natural and pardonable  weaknesses4     
,the result was the utter               
demoralisation1 both of ,france and     
,spain4  ,knox and ,buchanan1 the one   
from the stand-point of an old ,hebrew  
prophet1 the other rather from that of a
 ,juvenal or a ,tacitus1 tried the      
other method1 and called acts by their  
just names1 appealing alike to          
conscience and to ,god4  ,the result was
 virtue and piety1 and that manly       
independence of soul which is thought   
compatible with hearty loyalty1 in  a   
country labouring under heavy           
disadvantages1 long divided almost into 
two hostile camps1 two rival races4     
,and the good influence was soon        

manifest1 not only in those who sided   
with ,buchanan and his friends1 but in  
those who most opposed them4  ,the      
,roman ,catholic preachers1 who at first
 asserted ,mary's right to impunity1    
while they allowed her guilt1 grew      
silent for shame1 and set themselves  to
 assert her entire innocence2 while the 
,scots who have followed their  example 
have1 to their honour1 taken up the same
 ground4  ,they have  fought ,buchanan  
on the ground of fact1 not on the ground
 of morality3  they have alleged--as    
they had a fair right to do--the        
probability of  intrigue and forgery in 
an age so profligate3 the improbability 
that a  ,queen so gifted by nature and  
by fortune1 and confessedly for a long  
while so strong and so spotless1 should 
as it were by a sudden insanity  have   
proved so untrue to herself4  ,their    
noblest and purest sympathies  have been
 enlisted--and who can blame them8--in  
loyalty to a ,queen1  chivalry to a     
woman1 pity for the unfortunate and--as 

they conceived--the  innocent2 but      
whether they have been right or wrong in
 their view of  facts1 the ,scotch      
partisans of ,mary have always--as far  
as ,i know--been  right in their view of
 morals2 they have never deigned to     
admit ,mary's  guilt1 and then to       
palliate it by those sentimental1 or    
rather sensual1  theories of human      
nature1 too common in a certain school  
of ,french  literature1--too common1    
alas6 in a certain school of modern     
,english  novels4  ,they have not said1 
,she did it2 but after all1 was the deed
 so  very inexcusable8  ,they have said1
 ,the deed was inexcusable3 but she  did
 not do it4  ,and so the ,scotch        
admirers of ,mary1 who have numbered    
among them many a pure and noble1 as    
well as many a gifted spirit1 have  kept
 at least themselves unstained2 and have
 shown1 whether consciously  or not1    
that they too share in that sturdy      
,scotch moral sense which has  been so  
much strengthened--as ,i believe--by the

 plain speech of good old  ,george      
,buchanan4          ,,rondelet1 ,,the   
,,huguenot ,,naturalist #ceh            
,apollo1 god of medicine1 exiled from   
the rest of the earth1 was straying     
once across the ,narbonnaise in ,gaul1  
seeking to fix his abode there4  ,driven
 from ,asia1 from ,africa1 and from the 
rest of ,europe1 he wandered  through   
all the towns of the province in search 
of a place propitious for  him and for  
his disciples4  ,at last he perceived a 
new city1 constructed  from the ruins of
 ,maguelonne1 of ,lattes1 and of        
,substantion4  ,he  contemplated long   
its site1 its aspect1 its neighbourhood1
 and resolved  to establish on this hill
 of ,montpellier a temple for himself   
and his  priests4  ,all smiled on his   
desires4  ,by the genius of the soil1 by
 the  character of the inhabitants1 no  
town is more fit for the culture of     
letters1 and above all of medicine4     
,what site is more delicious and more   
lovely8  ,a heaven pure and smiling2 a  

city built with magnificence2 men  born 
for all the labours of the intellect4   
,all around vast horizons and           
enchanting sites--meadows1 vines1       
olives1 green champaigns2 mountains and 
hills1 rivers1 brooks1 lagoons1 and the 
sea4  ,everywhere a luxuriant           
vegetation--everywhere the richest      
production of the land and the water4   
,hail to thee1 sweet and dear city6     
,hail1 happy abode of ,apollo1 who      
spreadest afar the light of the glory of
 thy name6    ,this fine tirade1 says   
,dr4 ,maurice ,raynaud--from whose      
charming book on  the ',doctors of the  
,time of ,moliere' ,i quote--is not1 as 
one might  think1 the translation of a  
piece of poetry4  ,it is simply part of 
a  public oration by ,francois ,fanchon1
 one of the most illustrious            
chancellors of the faculty of medicine  
of ,montpellier in the seventeenth      
century4  ,from time immemorial1 he     
says1 'the faculty' of ,montpellier  had
 made itself remarkable by a singular   

mixture of the sacred and the  profane4 
,the theses which were sustained there  
began by an invocation to  ,god1 the    
,blessed ,virgin1 and ,st4 ,luke1 and   
ended by these words3--',this  thesis   
will be sustained in the sacred ,temple 
of ,apollo4'    ,but however extravagant
 ,chancellor ,fanchon's praises of his  
native city  may seem1 they are really  
not exaggerated4  ,the ,narbonnaise1 or 
,languedoc1 is perhaps the most charming
 district of charming ,france4  ,in  the
 far north-east gleam the white ,alps2  
in the far south-west the white         
,pyrenees2 and from the purple glens and
 yellow downs of the ,cevennes on  the  
northwest1 the ,herault slopes gently   
down towards the ,etangs1 or  great     
salt-water lagoons1 and the vast        
alluvial flats of the ,camargue1  the   
field of ,caius ,marius1 where still run
 herds of half-wild horses1  descended  
from some ancient ,roman stock2 while   
beyond all glitters the  blue           
,mediterranean4  ,the great almond      

orchards1 each one sheet of rose-       
colour in spring2 the mulberry orchards1
 the oliveyards1 the vineyards1  cover  
every foot of available upland soil3    
save where the rugged and arid  downs   
are sweet with a thousand odoriferous   
plants1 from which the bees  extract the
 famous white honey of ,narbonne4  ,the 
native flowers and  shrubs1 of a beauty 
and richness rather ,eastern than       
,european1 have made  the ',flora       
,monspeliensis1' and with it the names  
of ,rondelet and his  disciples1 famous 
among botanists2 and the strange fish   
and shells upon  its shores afforded    
,rondelet materials for his immortal    
work upon the  ',animals of the ,sea4'  
,the innumerable wild fowl of the       
,bouches du  ,rhone2 the innumerable    
songsters and other birds of passage1   
many of  them unknown in these islands1 
and even in the north of ,france itself1
  which haunt every copse of willow and 
aspen along the brook sides2 the  gaudy 
and curious insects which thrive beneath

 that clear1 fierce1 and  yet bracing   
sunlight2 all these have made the       
district of ,montpellier a  home        
prepared by ,nature for those who study 
and revere her4    ,neither was         
,chancellor ,fanchon misled by          
patriotism1 when he said the  pleasant  
people who inhabit that district are fit
 for all the labours of  the intellect4 
,they are a very mixed race1 and like   
most mixed races1  quick-witted1 and    
handsome also4  ,there is probably much 
,roman blood  among them1 especially in 
the towns2 for ,languedoc1 or ,gallia   
,narbonnensis1 as it was called of old1 
was said to be more ,roman than  ,rome  
itself4  ,the ,roman remains are more   
perfect and more interesting--so  the   
late ,dr4 ,whewell used to say--than any
 to be seen now in ,italy2 and  the old 
capital1 ,narbonne itself1 was a        
complete museum of ,roman  antiquities  
ere ,francis ,i4 destroyed it1 in order 
to fortify the city  upon a modern      
system against the invading armies of   

,charles ,v4  ,there  must be much      
,visigothic blood likewise in           
,languedoc2 for the ,visigothic  ,kings 
held their courts there from the fifth  
century1 until the time that  they were 
crushed by the invading ,moors4         
,spanish blood1 likewise1 there  may be2
 for much of ,languedoc was held in the 
early ,middle ,age by those  descendants
 of ,eudes of ,acquitaine who           
established themselves as kings of      
,majorca and ,arragon2 and ,languedoc   
did not become entirely ,french till    
#acdi1 when ,philip le ,bel bought      
,montpellier of those potentates4  ,the 
,moors1 too1 may have left some traces  
of their race behind4  ,they held  the  
country from about ,a4,d4 #gac to #geh1 
when they were finally expelled  by     
,charles ,martel and ,eudes4  ,one sees 
to this day their towers of meagre      
stone-work1 perched on the grand ,roman 
masonry of those old  amphitheatres1    
which they turned into fortresses4  ,one
 may see1 too--so  tradition holds--upon

 those very amphitheatres the stains of 
the fires  with which ,charles ,martel  
smoked them out2 and one may see1 too1  
or fancy  that one sees1 in the aquiline
 features1 the bright black eyes1 the   
lithe  and graceful gestures1 which are 
so common in ,languedoc1 some touch of  
the old ,mahommedan race1 which passed  
like a flood over that ,christian  land4
    ,whether or not the ,moors left     
behind any traces of their blood1 they  
left  behind1 at least1 traces of their 
learning2 for the university of         
,montpellier claimed to have been       
founded by ,moors at a date of          
altogether  abysmal antiquity4  ,they   
looked upon the ,arabian physicians of  
the ,middle  ,age1 on ,avicenna and     
,averrhoes1 as modern innovators1 and   
derived their  parentage from certain   
mythic doctors of ,cordova1 who1 when   
the ,moors  were expelled from ,spain in
 the eighth century1 fled to            
,montpellier1  bringing with them       
traditions of that primeval science     

which had been  revealed to ,adam while 
still in ,paradise2 and founded         
,montpellier1 the  mother of all the    
universities in ,europe4  ,nay1 some    
went further still1  and told of        
,bengessaus and ,ferragius1 the         
physicians of ,charlemagne1 and  of     
,marilephus1 chief physician of ,king   
,chilperic1 and even--if a letter  of   
,st4 ,bernard's was to be believed--of a
 certain bishop who went as  early as   
the second century to consult the       
doctors of ,montpellier2 and it  would  
have been in vain to reply to them that 
in those days1 and long  after them1    
,montpellier was not yet built4  ,the   
facts are said to be3  that as early as 
the beginning of the thirteenth century 
,montpellier had  its schools of law1   
medicine1 and arts1 which were erected  
into a  university by ,pope ,nicholas   
,,iv4 in #abhi4    ,the university of   
,montpellier1 like--,i believe--most    
foreign ones1  resembled more a ,scotch 
than an ,english university4  ,the      

students lived1  for the most part1 not 
in colleges1 but in private lodgings1   
and  constituted a republic of their    
own1 ruled by an abbe of the scholars1  
one of themselves1 chosen by universal  
suffrage4  ,a terror they were  often to
 the respectable burghers1 for they had 
all the right to carry  arms2 and a     
plague likewise1 for1 if they ran in    
debt1 their creditors  were forbidden to
 seize their books1 which1 with their   
swords1 were  generally all the property
 they possessed4  ,if1 moreover1 any one
 set up  a noisy or unpleasant trade    
near their lodgings1 the scholars could 
compel the town authorities to turn him 
out4  ,they were most of them1          
probably1 mere boys of from twelve to   
twenty1 living poorly1 working  hard1   
and--those at least of them who were in 
the colleges--cruelly  beaten daily1    
after the fashion of those times2 but   
they seem to have  comforted themselves 
under their troubles by a good deal of  
wild life out  of school1 by rambling   

into the country on the festivals of the
 saints1  and now and then by acting    
plays2 notably1 that famous one which   
,rabelais  wrote for them in #aeca3 ,the
 moral comedy of the man who had a dumb 
wife2 which joyous patelinage remains   
unto this day in the shape of a         
well-known comic song4  ,that comedy    
young ,rondelet must have seen acted4   
,the son of a druggist1 spicer1 and     
grocer--the three trades were then      
combined--in ,montpellier1 and born in  
#aejg1 he had been destined for the     
cloister1 being a sickly lad4  ,his     
uncle1 one of the canons of             
,maguelonne1 near by1 had even given him
 the revenues of a small chapel--a  job 
of nepotism which was common enough in  
those days4  ,but his heart was  in     
science and medicine4  ,he set off1     
still a mere boy1 to ,paris to study    
there2 and returned to ,montpellier1 at 
the age of eighteen1 to study  again4   
,the next year1 #aecj1 while still a    
scholar himself1 he was appointed       

procurator of the scholars--a post which
 brought him in a small fee on  each    
matriculation--and that year he took a  
fee1 among others1 from one  of the most
 remarkable men of that or of any age1  
,francois ,rabelais  himself4    ,and   
what shall ,i say of him8--who stands   
alone1 like ,shakespeare1 in his        
generation2 possessed of colossal       
learning--of all science which could be 
gathered in his days--of practical and  
statesmanlike wisdom--of knowledge  of  
languages1 ancient and modern1 beyond   
all his compeers--of eloquence1  which  
when he speaks of pure and noble things 
becomes heroic1 and1 as it  were1       
inspired--of scorn for meanness1        
hypocrisy1 ignorance--of esteem1        
genuine and earnest1 for the ,holy      
,scriptures1 and for the more moderate  
of the ,reformers who were spreading the
 ,scriptures in ,europe1--and all  this 
great light wilfully hidden1 not under a
 bushel1 but under a  dunghill4  ,he is 
somewhat like ,socrates in face1 and in 

character  likewise2 in him1 as in      
,socrates1 the demigod and the satyr1   
the man and  the ape1 are struggling for
 the mastery4  ,in ,socrates1 the true  
man  conquers1 and comes forth high and 
pure2 in ,rabelais1 alas6 the victor is 
the ape1 while the man himself sinks    
down in cynicism1 sensuality1  practical
 jokes1 foul talk4  ,he returns to      
,paris1 to live an idle1  luxurious     
life2 to die--says the legend--saying1  
,i go to seek a great  perhaps1 and to  
leave behind him little save a school of
  ,pantagruelists--careless young       
gentlemen1 whose ideal was to laugh at  
everything1 to believe in nothing1 and  
to gratify their five senses like  the  
brutes which perish4  ,there are those  
who read his books to make them  laugh2 
the wise man1 when he reads them1 will  
be far more inclined to  weep4  ,let any
 young man who may see these words      
remember1 that in him1  as in ,rabelais1
 the ape and the man are struggling for 
the mastery4  ,let  him take warning by 

the fate of one who was to him as a     
giant to a pigmy2  and think of         
,tennyson's words3--          ,arise1   
and fly     ,the reeling faun1 the      
sensual feast2     ,strive upwards1     
working out the beast1     ,and let the 
ape and tiger die4    ,but to return4   
,down among them there at ,montpellier1 
like a brilliant  meteor1 flashed this  
wonderful ,rabelais1 in the year #aecj4 
,he had fled1  some say1 for his life4  
,like ,erasmus1 he had no mind to be a  
martyr1 and  he had been terrified at   
the execution of poor ,louis de         
,berquin1 his  friend1 and the friend of
 ,erasmus likewise4  ,this ,louis de    
,berquin1 a man  well known in those    
days1 was a gallant young gentleman and 
scholar1  holding a place in the court  
of ,francis ,i41 who had translated into
  ,french the works of ,erasmus1        
,luther1 and ,melancthon1 and had       
asserted  that it was heretical to      
invoke the ,virgin ,mary instead of the 
,holy  ,spirit1 or to call her our ,hope

 and our ,life1 which titles--,berquin  
averred--belonged alone to ,god4  ,twice
 had the doctors of the ,sorbonne1  with
 that terrible persecutor1 ,noel ,beda1 
at their head1 seized poor  ,berquin1   
and tried to burn his books and him2    
twice had that angel in  human form1    
,marguerite d',angouleme1 sister of     
,francis ,i41 saved him from  their     
clutches2 but when ,francis--taken      
prisoner at the battle of  ,pavia--at   
last returned from his captivity in     
,spain1 the suppression of  heresy and  
the burning of heretics seemed to him   
and to his mother1  ,louise of ,savoy1 a
 thank-offering so acceptable to ,god1  
that ,louis  ,berquin--who would not1 in
 spite of the entreaties of ,erasmus1   
purchase  his life by silence--was burnt
 at last on the ,place de ,greve1 being 
first  strangled1 because he was of     
gentle blood4    ,montpellier received  
its famous guest joyfully4  ,rabelais   
was now forty-  two years old1 and a    
distinguished savant2 so they excused   

him his three  years' undergraduate's   
career1 and invested him at once with   
the red gown  of the bachelors4  ,that  
red gown--or1 rather1 the ragged phantom
 of it--is  still shown at ,montpellier1
 and must be worn by each bachelor when 
he  takes his degree4  ,unfortunately1  
antiquarians assure us that the         
precious garment has been renewed again 
and again--the students having  clipped 
bits of it away for relics1 and clipped 
as earnestly from the new  gowns as     
their predecessors had done from the    
authentic original4    ,doubtless the   
coming of such a man among them to      
lecture on the ,aphorisms  of           
,hippocrates1 and the ,ars ,parva of    
,galen1 not from the ,latin             
translations then in use1 but from      
original ,greek texts1 with comments    
and corrections of his own1 must have   
had a great influence on the minds  of  
the ,montpellier students2 and still    
more influence--and that not  altogether
 a good one--must ,rabelais' lighter    

talk have had1 as he  lounged--so the   
story goes--in his dressing-gown upon   
the public place1  picking up quaint    
stories from the cattle-drivers off the 
,cevennes1 and  the villagers who came  
in to sell their olives and their       
grapes1 their  vinegar and their        
vine-twig faggots1 as they do unto this 
day4  ,to him  may be owing much of the 
sound respect for natural science1 and  
much1  too1 of the contempt for the     
superstition around them1 which is      
notable  in that group of great         
naturalists who were boys in            
,montpellier at that  day4  ,rabelais   
seems to have liked ,rondelet1 and no   
wonder3 he was a  cheery1 lovable1      
honest little fellow1 very fond of      
jokes1 a great  musician and player on  
the violin1 and who1 when he grew rich1 
liked  nothing so well as to bring into 
his house any buffoon or strolling      
player to make fun for him4  ,vivacious 
he was1 hot-tempered1 forgiving1  and   
with a power of learning and a power of 

work which were prodigious1  even in    
those hard-working days4  ,rabelais     
chaffs ,rondelet1 under the  name of    
,rondibilis2 for1 indeed1 ,rondelet grew
 up into a very round1 fat1  little man2
 but ,rabelais puts excellent sense into
 his mouth1 cynical  enough1 and too    
cynical1 but both learned and humorous2 
and1 if he laughs  at him for being     
shocked at the offer of a fee1 and      
taking it1  nevertheless1 kindly enough1
 ,rondelet is not the first doctor who  
has  done that1 neither will he be the  
last4    ,rondelet1 in his turn1 put on 
the red robe of the bachelor1 and       
received1  on taking his degree1 his due
 share of fisticuffs from his dearest   
friends1 according to the ancient custom
 of the ,university of  ,montpellier4   
,he then went off to practise medicine  
in a village at the  foot of the ,alps1 
and1 half-starved1 to teach little      
children4  ,then he  found he must learn
 ,greek2 went off to ,paris a second    
time1 and  alleviated his poverty there 

somewhat by becoming tutor to a son of  
the  ,viscomte de ,turenne4  ,there he  
met ,gonthier of ,andernach1 who had    
taught  anatomy at ,louvain to the great
 ,vesalius1 and learned from him to     
dissect4  ,we next find him setting up  
as a medical man amid the wild  volcanic
 hills of the ,auvergne1 struggling     
still with poverty1 like  ,erasmus1 like
 ,george ,buchanan1 like almost every   
great scholar in those  days2 for       
students then had to wander from place  
to place1 generally on  foot1 in search 
of new teachers1 in search of books1 in 
search of the  necessaries of life2     
undergoing such an amount of bodily and 
mental toil  as makes it wonderful that 
all of them did not--as some of them    
doubtless  did--die under the hard      
training1 or1 at best1 desert the       
penurious ,muses  for the paternal shop 
or plough4    ,rondelet got his         
doctorate in #aecg1 and next year fell  
in love with and  married a beautiful   
young girl called ,jeanne ,sandre1 who  

seems to have  been as poor as he4      
,but he had gained1 meanwhile1 a        
powerful patron and the patronage of the
  great was then as necessary to men of 
letters as the patronage of the  public 
is now4  ,guillaume ,pellicier1 ,bishop 
of ,maguelonne--or rather then  of      
,montpellier itself1 whither he had     
persuaded ,paul ,,ii4 to transfer the   
ancient see--was a model of the literary
 gentleman of the sixteenth  century2 a 
savant1 a diplomat1 a collector of books
 and manuscripts1  ,greek1 ,hebrew1 and 
,syriac1 which formed the original      
nucleus of the  present library of the  
,louvre2 a botanist1 too1 who loved to  
wander with  ,rondelet collecting plants
 and flowers4  ,he retired from public  
life to  peace and science at           
,montpellier1 when to the evil days of  
his master1  ,francis ,i41 succeeded the
 still worse days of ,henry ,,ii41 and  
,diana of  ,poitiers4  ,that ,jezebel of
 ,france could conceive no more natural 
or easy  way of atoning for her own sins

 than that of hunting down heretics1 and
  feasting her wicked eyes--so it is    
said--upon their dying torments4        
,bishop ,pellicier fell under suspicion 
of heresy3 very probably with some      
justice4  ,he fell1 too1 under suspicion
 of leading a life unworthy of a        
celibate churchman1 a fault which--if it
 really existed--was1 in those  days1   
pardonable enough in an orthodox        
prelate1 but not so in one whose        
orthodoxy was suspected4  ,and for a    
while ,pellicier was in prison4  ,after 
his release he gave himself up to       
science1 with ,rondelet1 and the school 
of disciples who were growing up around 
him4  ,they rediscovered together  the  
,garum1 that classic sauce1 whose       
praises had been sung of old by         
,horace1 ,martial1 and ,ausonius2 and so
 childlike1 superstitious if you  will1 
was the reverence in the sixteenth      
century for classic antiquity1  that    
when ,pellicier and ,rondelet discovered
 that the ,garum was made from  the fish

 called ,picarel--called ,garon by the  
fishers of ,antibes1 and  ,giroli at    
,venice1 both these last names          
corruptions of the ,latin  ,gerres--then
 did the two fashionable poets of       
,france1 ,etienne ,dolet and  ,clement  
,marot1 think it not unworthy of their  
muse to sing the praises of  the sauce  
which ,horace had sung of old4  ,a proud
 day1 too1 was it for  ,pellicier and   
,rondelet1 when wandering somewhere in  
the marshes of the  ,camargue1 a scent  
of garlic caught the nostrils of the    
gentle bishop1 and  in the lovely pink  
flowers of the water-germander he       
recognised the  ,scordium of the        
ancients4  ,the discovery1 says         
,professor ,planchon1  made almost as   
much noise as that of the famous ,garum2
 for at that  moment of naive fervour on
 behalf of antiquity1 to rediscover a   
plant of  ,dioscorides or of ,pliny was 
a good fortune and almost an event4     
,i know not whether1 after his death1   
the good bishop's bones reposed  beneath

 some gorgeous tomb1 bedizened with the 
incongruous half-,pagan  statues of the 
,renaissance3 but this1 at least1 is    
certain1 that  ,rondelet's disciples    
imagined for him a monument more        
enduring than of  marble or of brass1   
more graceful and more curiously wrought
 than all the  sculptures of ,torrigiano
 or ,cellini1 ,baccio ,bandinelli or    
,michael ,angelo  himself4  ,for they   
named a lovely little lilac snapdragon1 
,linaria  ,domini ,pellicerii1--,lord   
,pellicier's toad-flax2 and that name it
 will  keep1 we may believe1 as long as 
winter and summer shall endure4    ,but 
to return4  ,to this good patron--who   
was the ,ambassador at ,venice--the     
newly-married ,rondelet determined to   
apply for employment2 and to ,venice  he
 would have gone1 leaving his bride     
behind1 had he not been stayed by  one  
of those angels who sometimes walk the  
earth in women's shape4  ,jeanne        
,sandre had an elder sister1 ,catherine1
 who had brought her up4  ,she was      

married to a wealthy man1 but she had no
 children of her own4  ,for four  years 
she and her good husband had let the    
,rondelets lodge with them1 and  now she
 was a widow1 and to part with them was 
more than she could bear4  ,she carried 
,rondelet off from the students who were
 seeing him safe out  of the city1      
brought him back1 settled on him the    
same day half her  fortune1 and soon    
after settled on him the whole1 on the  
sole condition  that she should live    
with him and her sister4  ,for years    
afterwards she  watched over the pretty 
young wife and her two girls and three  
boys--the  three boys1 alas6 all died   
young--and over ,rondelet himself1 who1 
immersed in books and experiments1 was  
utterly careless about money2 and  was  
to them all a mother1 advising1 guiding1
 managing1 and regarded by  ,rondelet   
with genuine gratitude as his guardian  
angel4    ,honour and good fortune1 in  
the worldly sense1 now poured in upon   
the  druggist's son4  ,pellicier1 his   

own bishop1 stood godfather to his      
first-  born daughter4  ,montluc1       
,bishop of ,valence1 and that wise and  
learned  statesman1 the ,cardinal of    
,tournon1 stood godfathers a few years  
later to  his twin boys2 and what was of
 still more solid worth to him1         
,cardinal  ,tournon took him to         
,antwerp1 ,bordeaux1 ,bayonne1 and more 
than once to  ,rome2 and in these       
,italian journeys of his he collected   
many facts for  the great work of his   
life1 that ',history of ,fishes' which  
he dedicated1  naturally enough1 to the 
cardinal4  ,this book with its plates   
is1 for the  time1 a masterpiece of     
accuracy4  ,those who are best          
acquainted with the  subject say1 that  
it is up to the present day a key to the
 whole  ichthyology of the              
,mediterranean4  ,two other men1 ,belon 
and ,salviani1  were then at work on the
 same subject1 and published their books
 almost  at the same time2 a            
circumstance which caused1 as was       

natural1 a three-  cornered duel between
 the supporters of the three            
naturalists1 each party  accusing the   
other of plagiarism4  ,the simple fact  
seems to be that the  almost            
simultaneous appearance of the three    
books in #aeed-e is one of  those       
coincidences inevitable at moments when 
many minds are stirred in  the same     
direction by the same great             
thoughts--coincidences which have       
happened in our own day on questions of 
geology1 biology1 and astronomy2  and   
which1 when the facts have been         
carefully examined1 and the first  flush
 of natural jealousy has cooled down1   
have proved only that there  were more  
wise men than one in the world at the   
same time4    ,and this sixteenth       
century was an age in which the minds of
 men were  suddenly and strangely turned
 to examine the wonders of nature with  
an  earnestness1 with a reverence1 and  
therefore with an accuracy1 with which  
they had never been investigated before4

  ,nature1 says ,professor  ,planchon1  
long veiled in mysticism and            
scholasticism1 was opening up  infinite 
vistas4  ,a new superstition1 the       
exaggerated worship of the  ancients1   
was nearly hindering this movement of   
thought towards facts4  ,nevertheless   
learning did her work4  ,she            
rediscovered1 reconstructed1  purified1 
commented on the texts of ancient       
authors4  ,then came in  observation1   
which showed that more was to be seen in
 one blade of grass  than in any page of
 ,pliny4  ,rondelet was in the middle of
 this crisis a  man of transition1 while
 he was one of progress4  ,he reflected 
the past2  he opened and prepared the   
future4  ,if he commented on            
,dioscorides1 if he  remained faithful  
to the theories of ,galen1 he founded in
 his ',history of  ,fishes' a monument  
which our century respects4  ,he is     
above all an  inspirer1 an initiator2   
and if he wants one mark of the leader  
of a  school1 the foundation of certain 

scientific doctrines1 there is in his   
speech what is better than all systems1 
the communicative power which  urges a  
generation of disciples along the path  
of independent research1  with ,reason  
for guide1 and ,faith for aim4          
,around ,rondelet1 in those years1      
sometimes indeed in his house--for      
professors in those days took private   
pupils as lodgers--worked the group  of 
botanists whom ,linnaeus calls the      
,fathers1 the authors of the            
descriptive botany of the sixteenth     
century4  ,their names1 and those of    
their disciples and their disciples     
again1 are household words in the  mouth
 of every gardener1 immortalised1 like  
good ,bishop ,pellicier1 in the  plants 
which have been named after them4  ,the 
,lobelia commemorates ,lobel1  one of   
,rondelet's most famous pupils1 who     
wrote those ',adversaria' which  contain
 so many curious sketches of ,rondelet's
 botanical expeditions1 and  who        
inherited his botanical 7as ,joubert his

 biographer inherited his  anatomical7  
manuscripts4  ,the ,magnolia            
commemorates the ,magnols2 the          
,sarracenia1 ,sarrasin of ,lyons2 the   
,bauhinia1 ,jean ,bauhin2 the ,fuchsia1 
,bauhin's earlier ,german master1       
,leonard ,fuchs2 and the ,clusia--the   
received name of that terrible          
,matapalo1 or ,scotch attorney1 of the  
,west ,indies1 which kills the hugest   
tree1 to become as huge a tree          
itself--immortalizes the great ,clusius1
 ,charles de l',escluse1 citizen of     
,arras1 who after studying civil law at 
,louvain1 philosophy at ,marburg1  and  
theology at ,wittemberg under           
,melancthon1 came to ,montpellier in    
#aeea1  to live in ,rondelet's own      
house1 and become the greatest botanist 
of his  age4    ,these were ,rondelet's 
palmy days4  ,he had got a theatre of   
anatomy built  at ,montpellier1 where he
 himself dissected publicly4  ,he had1  
says  tradition1 a little botanic       
garden1 such as were springing up then  

in  several universities1 specially in  
,italy4  ,he had a villa outside the    
city1 whose tower1 near the modern      
railway station1 still bears the name   
of the ,mas de ,rondelet4  ,there1 too1 
may be seen the remnants of the  great  
tanks1 fed with water brought through   
earthen pipes from the  ,fountain of    
,albe1 wherein he kept the fish whose   
habits he observed4  ,professor         
,planchon thinks that he had salt-water 
tanks likewise2 and thus  he may have   
been the father of all ,aquariums4  ,he 
had a large and  handsome house in the  
city itself1 a large practice as        
physician in the  country round2 money  
flowed in fast to him1 and flowed out   
fast likewise4  ,he spent much upon     
building1 pulling down1 rebuilding1 and 
sent the bills  in seemingly to his wife
 and to his guardian angel ,catherine4  
,he himself  had never a penny in his   
purse3 but earned the money1 and let his
 ladies  spend it2 an equitable and     
pleasant division of labour which most  

married  men would do well to imitate4  
,a generous1 affectionate1 careless     
little  man1 he gave away1 says his     
pupil and biographer1 ,joubert1 his     
valuable  specimens to any savant who   
begged for them1 or left them about to  
be  stolen by visitors1 who1 like too   
many collectors in all ages1 possessed  
light fingers and lighter consciences4  
,so pacific was he meanwhile1 and  so   
brave withal1 that even in the fearful  
years of the troubles1 he would  never  
carry sword1 nor even tuck or dagger2   
but went about on the most  lonesome    
journeys as one who wore a charmed life1
 secure in ,god and in  his calling1    
which was to heal1 and not to kill4     
,these were the golden years of         
,rondelet's life2 but trouble was coming
 on  him1 and a stormy sunset after a   
brilliant day4  ,he lost his sister-in- 
law1 to whom he owed all his fortunes1  
and who had watched ever since  over him
 and his wife like a mother2 then he    
lost his wife herself under  most       

painful circumstances2 then his         
best-beloved daughter4  ,then he        
married again1 and lost the son who was 
born to him2 and then came1 as to  many 
of the best in those days1 even sorer   
trials1 trials of the  conscience1      
trials of faith4    ,for in the mean    
time ,rondelet had become a ,protestant1
 like many of the  wisest men round him2
 like1 so it would seem from the event1 
the majority  of the university and the 
burghers of ,montpellier4  ,it is not to
 be  wondered at4  ,montpellier was a   
sort of half-way resting-place for      
,protestant preachers1 whether fugitive 
or not1 who were passing from  ,basle1  
,geneva1 or ,lyons1 to ,marguerite of   
,navarre's little ,protestant  court at 
,pau or at ,nerac1 where all wise and   
good men1 and now and then  some foolish
 and fanatical ones1 found shelter and  
hospitality4  ,thither  ,calvin himself 
had been1 passing probably through      
,montpellier1 and  leaving--as such a   
man was sure to leave--the mark of his  

foot behind  him4  ,at ,lyons1 no great 
distance up the ,rhone1 ,marguerite had 
helped to  establish an organised       
,protestant community2 and when in #aecf
 she herself  had passed through        
,montpellier1 to visit her brother at   
,valence1 and  ,montmorency's camp at   
,avignon1 she took with her doubtless   
,protestant  chaplains of her own1 who  
spoke wise words--it may be that she    
spoke wise  words herself--to the ardent
 and inquiring students of ,montpellier4
  ,moreover1 ,rondelet and his disciples
 had been for years past in constant    
communication with the ,protestant      
savants of ,switzerland and ,germany1   
among whom the knowledge of nature was  
progressing as it never had  progressed 
before4  ,for--it is a fact always to be
 remembered--it was  only in the free   
air of ,protestant countries the natural
 sciences could  grow and thrive4  ,they
 sprung up1 indeed1 in ,italy after the 
restoration  of ,greek literature in the
 fifteenth century2 but they withered   

there  again only too soon under the    
blighting upas shade of superstition4   
,transplanted to the free air of        
,switzerland1 of ,germany1 of ,britain1 
and  of ,montpellier1 then half         
,protestant1 they developed rapidly and 
surely1  simply because the air was     
free2 to be checked again in ,france by 
the  return of superstition with        
despotism super-added1 until the eve of 
the  great ,french ,revolution4    ,so  
,rondelet had been for some years       
,protestant4  ,he had hidden in his     
house for a long while a monk who had   
left his monastery4  ,he had himself    
written theological treatises3 but when 
his ,bishop ,pellicier was  imprisoned  
on a charge of heresy1 ,rondelet burnt  
his manuscripts1 and  kept his opinions 
to himself4  ,still he was a suspected  
heretic1 at last  seemingly a notorious 
one2 for only the year before his death1
 going to  visit patients at ,perpignan1
 he was waylaid by the ,spaniards1 and  
had to  get home through bypasses of the

 ,pyrenees1 to avoid being thrown into  
the  ,inquisition4    ,and those were   
times in which it was necessary for a   
man to be careful1  unless he had made  
up his mind to be burned4  ,for more    
than thirty years  of ,rondelet's life  
the burning had gone on in his          
neighbourhood2  intermittently it is    
true3 the spasms of superstitious fury  
being  succeeded1 one may charitably    
hope1 by pity and remorse3 but still the
  burnings had gone on4  ,the           
,benedictine monk of ,st4 ,maur1 who    
writes the  history of ,languedoc1 says1
 quite en passant1 how some one was     
burnt at  ,toulouse in #aeec1 luckily   
only in effigy1 for he had escaped to   
,geneva3  but he adds1 next year they   
burned several heretics1 it being not   
worth  while to mention their names4    
,in #aeef they burned alive at ,toulouse
 ,jean  ,escalle1 a poor ,franciscan    
monk1 who had found his order           
intolerable2  while one ,pierre de      
,lavaur1 who dared preach ,calvinism in 

the streets of  ,nismes1 was hanged and 
burnt4  ,so had the score of judicial   
murders been  increasing year by year1  
till it had to be1 as all evil scores   
have to be  in this world1 paid off with
 interest1 and paid off especially      
against  the ignorant and fanatic monks 
who for a whole generation1 in every    
university and school in ,france1 had   
been howling down sound science1 as     
well as sound religion2 and at          
,montpellier in #aefj-a1 their debt was 
paid  them in a very ugly way4  ,news   
came down to the hot southerners of     
,languedoc of the so-called conspiracy  
of ,amboise4--,how the ,duc de ,guise   
and the ,cardinal de ,lorraine had      
butchered the best blood in ,france     
under  the pretence of a treasonable    
plot2 how the ,king of ,navarre and the 
,prince de ,conde had been arrested2    
then how ,conde and ,coligny were ready 
to take up arms at the head of all the  
,huguenots of ,france1 and try to  stop 
this lifelong torturing1 by sharp shot  

and cold steel2 then how in  six months'
 time the king would assemble a general 
council to settle the  question between 
,catholics and ,huguenots4  ,the        
,huguenots1 guessing how  that would    
end1 resolved to settle the question for
 themselves4  ,they  rose in one city   
after another1 sacked the churches1     
destroyed the  images1 put down by main 
force superstitious processions and     
dances2 and  did many things only to be 
excused by the exasperation caused by   
thirty  years of cruelty4  ,at          
,montpellier there was hard fighting1   
murders--so  say the ,catholic          
historians--of priests and monks1 sack  
of the new  cathedral1 destruction of   
the noble convents which lay in a ring  
round  ,montpellier4  ,the city and the 
university were in the hands of the     
,huguenots1 and ,montpellier became     
,protestant on the spot4    ,next year  
came the counter blow4  ,there were     
heavy battles with the  ,catholics all  
round the neighbourhood1 destruction of 

the suburbs1  threatened siege and sack1
 and years of misery and poverty for    
,montpellier and all who were therein4  
,horrible was the state of ,france in   
those times of the wars of religion     
which began in #aefb2 the times which   
are spoken of usually as ,the           
,troubles1 as if men did not wish to    
allude to them too openly4  ,then1  and 
afterwards in the wars of the ,league1  
deeds were done for which  language has 
no name4  ,the population decreased4    
,the land lay untilled4  ,the fair face 
of ,france was blackened with burnt     
homesteads and ruined  towns4  ,ghastly 
corpses dangled in rows upon the trees1 
or floated down  the blood-stained      
streams4  ,law and order were at an end4
  ,bands of  robbers prowled in open    
day1 and bands of wolves likewise4  ,but
 all  through the horrors of the        
troubles we catch sight of the little   
fat  doctor riding all unarmed to see   
his patients throughout ,languedoc2     
going  vast distances1 his biographers  

say1 by means of regular relays of      
horses1 till he too broke down4  ,well  
for him1 perhaps1 that he broke  down   
when he did2 for capture and recapture1 
massacre and pestilence1  were the fate 
of ,montpellier and the surrounding     
country1 till the better  times of      
,henry ,,iv4 and the ,edict of ,nantes  
in #aeih1 when liberty of  worship was  
given to the ,protestants for a while4  
,in the burning summer of #aeff         
,rondeletius went a long journey to     
,toulouse1 seemingly upon an errand of  
charity1 to settle some law affairs  for
 his relations4  ,the sanitary state of 
the southern cities is bad  enough      
still4  ,it must have been horrible in  
those days of barbarism and  misrule4   
,dysentery was epidemic at ,toulouse    
then1 and ,rondelet took it4  ,he knew  
from the first that he should die4  ,he 
was worn out1 it is said1  by           
over-exertion2 by sorrow for the        
miseries of the land2 by fruitless      
struggles to keep the peace1 and to     

strive for moderation in days when  men 
were all immoderate4  ,but he rode away 
a day's journey--he took two  days over 
it1 so weak he was--in the blazing ,july
 sun1 to a friend's sick  wife at       
,realmont1 and there took to his bed1   
and died a good man's death4  ,the      
details of his death and last illness   
were written and published by  his      
cousin ,claude ,formy2 and well worth   
reading they are to any man who  wishes 
to know how to die4  ,rondelet would    
have no tidings of his illness  sent to 
,montpellier4  ,he was happy1 he said1  
in dying away from the tears  of his    
household1 and safe from insult4  ,he   
dreaded1 one may suppose1  lest priests 
and friars should force their way to his
 bedside1 and try to  extort some       
recantation from the great savant1 the  
honour and glory of  their city4  ,so   
they sent for no priest to ,realmont3   
but round his bed a  knot of ,calvinist 
gentlemen and ministers read the        
,scriptures1 and sang  ,david's psalms1 

and prayed2 and ,rondelet prayed with   
them through long  agonies1 and so went 
home to ,god4    ,the ,benedictine      
monk-historian of ,languedoc1 in all his
 voluminous  folios1 never mentions1 as 
far as ,i can find1 ,rondelet's         
existence4  ,why  should he8  ,the man  
was only a druggist's son and a heretic1
 who healed  diseases1 and collected    
plants1 and wrote a book on fish4  ,but 
the  learned men of ,montpellier1 and of
 all ,europe1 had a very different      
opinion of him4  ,his body was buried at
 ,realmont3 but before the schools  of  
,toulouse they set up a white marble    
slab1 and an inscription thereon        
setting forth his learning and his      
virtues2 and epitaphs on him were       
composed by the learned throughout      
,europe1 not only in ,french and ,latin1
  but in ,greek1 ,hebrew1 and even      
,chaldee4    ,so lived and so died a    
noble man2 more noble--to my mind--than 
many a  victorious warrior1 or          
successful statesman1 or canonised      

saint4  ,to know  facts1 and to heal    
diseases1 were the two objects of his   
life4  ,for them  he toiled1 as few men 
have toiled2 and he died in harness1 at 
his  work--the best death any man can   
die4          ,,vesalius ,,the          
,,anatomist      ,i cannot begin a      
sketch of the life of this great man    
better than by  trying to describe a    
scene so picturesque1 so tragic in the  
eyes of those  who are wont to mourn    
over human follies1 so comic in the eyes
 of those  who prefer to laugh over     
them1 that the reader will not be likely
 to  forget either it or the actors in  
it4    ,it is a darkened chamber in the 
,college of ,alcala1 in the year #aefb1 
where lies1 probably in a huge four-post
 bed1 shrouded in stifling  hangings1   
the heir-apparent of the greatest empire
 in the then world1 ,don  ,carlos1 only 
son of ,philip ,,ii41 and heir-apparent 
of ,spain1 the  ,netherlands1 and all   
the ,indies4  ,a short sickly boy of    
sixteen1 with a  bull head1 a crooked   

shoulder1 a short leg1 and a brutal     
temper1 he will  not be missed by the   
world if he should die4  ,his profligate
 career seems  to have brought its own  
punishment4  ,to the scandal of his     
father1 who  tolerated no one's vices   
save his own1 as well as to the scandal 
of the  university authorities of       
,alcala1 he has been scouring the       
streets at the  head of the most        
profligate students1 insulting women1   
even ladies of  rank1 and amenable only 
to his lovely young stepmother1         
,elizabeth of  ,valois1 ,isabel de la   
,paz1 as the ,spaniards call her1 the   
daughter of  ,catherine de ,medicis1 and
 sister of the ,king of ,france4  ,don  
,carlos  should have married her1 had   
not his worthy father found it more     
advantageous for the crown of ,spain1 as
 well as more pleasant for him  ,philip1
 to marry her himself4  ,whence came    
heart-burnings1 rage1  jealousies1      
romances1 calumnies1 of which two       
last--in as far at least as  they       

concern poor ,elizabeth--no wise man now
 believes a word4    ,going on some     
errand on which he had no               
business--there are two stories1        
neither of them creditable nor necessary
 to repeat--,don ,carlos has fallen     
down stairs and broken his head4  ,he   
comes1 by his ,portuguese mother's      
side1 of a house deeply tainted with    
insanity2 and such an injury may  have  
serious consequences4  ,however1 for    
nine days the wound goes on  well1 and  
,don ,carlos1 having had a wholesome    
fright1 is1 according to  ,doctor       
,olivarez1 the medico de camara1 a very 
good lad1 and lives on  chicken broth   
and dried plums4  ,but on the tenth day 
comes on numbness of  the left side1    
acute pains in the head1 and then       
gradually shivering1  high fever1       
erysipelas4  ,his head and neck swell to
 an enormous size2  then comes raging   
delirium1 then stupefaction1 and ,don   
,carlos lies as one  dead4    ,a modern 
surgeon would1 probably1 thanks to that 

training of which  ,vesalius may be     
almost called the father1 have had      
little difficulty in  finding out what  
was the matter with the luckless lad1   
and little  difficulty in removing the  
evil1 if it had not gone too far4  ,but 
the  ,spanish physicians were then1 as  
many of them are said to be still1 as   
far behind the world in surgery as in   
other things2 and indeed surgery  itself
 was then in its infancy1 because men1  
ever since the early ,greek  schools of 
,alexandria had died out1 had been for  
centuries feeding their  minds with     
anything rather than with facts4        
,therefore the learned  morosophs who   
were gathered round ,don ,carlos's sick 
bed had become1  according to their own 
confession1 utterly confused1 terrified1
 and at  their wits' end4    ,it is the 
#gth of ,may1 the eighteenth day after  
the accident1 according to  ,olivarez'  
story3 he and ,dr4 ,vega have been      
bleeding the unhappy prince1  enlarging 
the wound twice1 and torturing him      

seemingly on mere guesses4  ,i believe1 
says ,olivarez1 that all was done well3 
but as ,i have said1  in wounds in the  
head there are strange labyrinths4  ,so 
on the #gth they  stand round the bed in
 despair4  ,don ,garcia de ,toledo1 the 
prince's  faithful governor1 is sitting 
by him1 worn out with sleepless nights1 
and  trying to supply to the poor boy   
that mother's tenderness which he has   
never known4  ,alva too is there1 stern1
 self-compressed1 most terrible1  and   
yet most beautiful4  ,he has a ,god on  
earth1 and that is ,philip his  master2 
and though he has borne much from ,don  
,carlos already1 and will  have to bear 
more1 yet the wretched lad is to him as 
a son of ,god1 a  second deity1 who will
 by right divine succeed to the         
inheritance of the  first2 and he       
watches this lesser deity struggling    
between life and death  with an         
intensity of which we1 in these less    
loyal days1 can form no  notion4  ,one  
would be glad to have a glimpse of what 

passed through that  mind1 so subtle and
 so ruthless1 so disciplined and so     
loyal withal3 but  ,alva was a man who  
was not given to speak his mind1 but to 
act it4    ,one would wish1 too1 for a  
glimpse of what was passing through the 
mind  of another man1 who has been daily
 in that sick chamber1 according to     
,olivarez' statement1 since the first of
 the month3 but he is one who has  had1 
for some years past1 even more reason   
than ,alva for not speaking his  mind4  
,what he looked like we know well1 for  
,titian has painted him from  the       
life--a tall1 bold1 well-dressed man1   
with a noble brain1 square and  yet     
lofty1 short curling locks and beard1 an
 eye which looks as though it  feared   
neither man nor fiend--and it has had   
good reason to fear both--and  features 
which would be exceeding handsome1 but  
for the defiant  snub-nose4  ,that is   
,andreas ,vesalius1 of ,brussels1       
dreaded and hated by  the doctors of the
 old school--suspect1 moreover1 it would

 seem1 to  inquisitors and theologians1 
possibly to ,alva himself2 for he has   
dared  to dissect human bodies2 he has  
insulted the medievalists at ,paris1    
,padua1 ,bologna1 ,pisa1 ,venice1 in    
open theatre2 he has turned the heads of
  all the young surgeons in ,italy and  
,france2 he has written a great book1   
with prints in it1 designed1 some say1  
by ,titian--they were actually done  by 
another ,netherlander1 ,john of ,calcar1
 near ,cleves--in which he has  dared to
 prove that ,galen's anatomy was at     
fault throughout1 and that he  had been 
describing a monkey's inside when he had
 pretended to be  describing a man's2   
and thus1 by impudence and quackery1 he 
has wormed  himself--this ,netherlander1
 a heretic at heart1 as all             
,netherlanders are1  to ,god as well as 
to ,galen--into the confidence of the   
late ,emperor  ,charles ,v41 and gone   
campaigning with him as one of his      
physicians1  anatomising human bodies   
even on the battle-field1 and defacing  

the  likeness of ,deity2 and worse than 
that1 the most religious ,king ,philip  
is  deceived by him likewise1 and keeps 
him in ,madrid in wealth and honour2    
and now1 in the prince's extreme danger1
 the king has actually sent for  him1   
and bidden him try his skill--a man who 
knows nothing save about  bones and     
muscles and the outside of the body1 and
 is unworthy the name  of a true        
physician4    ,one can conceive the rage
 of the old ,spanish pedants at the     
,netherlander's appearance1 and still   
more at what followed1 if we are to     
believe ,hugo ,bloet of ,delft1 his     
countryman and contemporary4 #cij       
,vesalius1 he says1 saw that the        
surgeons had bound up the wound so tight
  that an abscess had formed outside the
 skull1 which could not break3 he       
asserted that the only hope lay in      
opening it2 and did so1 ,philip having  
given leave1 by two cross-cuts4  ,then  
the lad returned to himself1 as if      
awakened from a profound sleep1         

affirming that he owed his restoration  
to  life to the ,german doctor4         
,dionysius ,daza1 who was there with the
 other physicians and surgeons1  tells a
 different story3 ,the most learned1    
famous1 and rare ,baron  ,vesalius1 he  
says1 advised that the skull should be  
trepanned2 but his  advice was not      
followed4    ,olivarez' account agrees  
with that of ,daza4  ,they had opened   
the wounds1  he says1 down to the skull 
before ,vesalius came4  ,vesalius       
insisted that  the injury lay inside the
 skull1 and wished to pierce it4        
,olivarez  spends much labour in proving
 that ,vesalius had no great foundation 
for  his opinion3 but confesses that he 
never changed that opinion to the  last1
 though all the ,spanish doctors were   
against him4  ,then on the #fth1  he    
says1 the ,bachelor ,torres came from   
,madrid1 and advised that the skull     
should be laid bare once more2 and on   
the #gth1 there being still doubt       
whether the skull was not injured1 the  

operation was performed--by whom  it is 
not said--but without any good result1  
or1 according to ,olivarez1  any        
discovery1 save that ,vesalius was      
wrong1 and the skull uninjured4         
,whether this second operation of the   
#gth of ,may was performed by           
,vesalius1 and whether it was that of   
which ,bloet speaks1 is an open         
question4  ,olivarez' whole relation is 
apologetic1 written to justify  himself 
and his seven ,spanish colleagues1 and  
to prove ,vesalius in the  wrong4       
,public opinion1 he confesses1 had been 
very fierce against him4  ,the credit of
 ,spanish medicine was at stake3 and we 
are not bound to  believe implicitly a  
paper drawn up under such circumstances 
for ,philip's  eye4  ,this1 at least1 we
 gather3 that ,don ,carlos was never    
trepanned1 as  is commonly said2 and    
this1 also1 that whichever of the two   
stories is  true1 equally puts ,vesalius
 into direct1 and most unpleasant1      
antagonism  to the ,spanish doctors4    

#cib    ,but ,don ,carlos still lay     
senseless2 and yielding to popular      
clamour1 the  doctors called in the aid 
of a certain ,moorish doctor1 from      
,valencia1  named ,priotarete1 whose    
unguents1 it was reported1 had achieved 
many  miraculous cures4  ,the unguent1  
however1 to the horror of the doctors1  
burned the skull till the bone was as   
black as the colour of ink2 and         
,olivarez declares he believes it to    
have been a preparation of pure         
caustic4  ,on the morning of the #ith of
 ,may1 the ,moor and his unguents  were 
sent away1 and went to ,madrid1 to send 
to heaven ,hernando de ,vega1  while the
 prince went back to our method of cure4
    ,considering what happened on the   
morning of the #ajth of ,may1 we should 
now presume that the second opening of  
the abscess1 whether by ,vesalius  or   
someone else1 relieved the pressure on  
the brain2 that a critical  period of   
exhaustion followed1 probably prolonged 
by the ,moor's premature  caustic1 which

 stopped the suppuration3 but that      
,god's good handiwork1  called nature1  
triumphed at last2 and that therefore it
 came to pass that  the prince was out  
of danger within three days of the      
operation4  ,but he  was taught1 it     
seems1 to attribute his recovery to a   
very different  source from that of a   
,german knife4  ,for on the morning of  
the #ith1 when  the ,moor was gone1 and 
,don ,carlos lay seemingly lifeless1    
there descended  into his chamber a     
,deus e machina1 or rather a whole      
pantheon of greater  or lesser deities1 
who were to effect that which medical   
skill seemed not  to have effected4     
,philip sent into the prince's chamber  
several of the  precious relics which he
 usually carried about with him4  ,the  
miraculous  image of the ,virgin of     
,atocha1 in embroidering garments for   
whom1 ,spanish  royalty1 male and       
female1 has spent so many an hour ere   
now1 was brought  in solemn procession  
and placed on an altar at the foot of   

the prince's  bed2 and in the afternoon 
there entered1 with a procession        
likewise1 a  shrine containing the bones
 of a holy anchorite1 one ,fray ,diego1 
whose  life and miracles1 says          
,olivarez1 are so notorious2 and the    
bones of  ,st4 ,justus and ,st4 ,pastor1
 the tutelar saints of the university of
  ,alcala4  ,amid solemn litanies the   
relics of ,fray ,diego were laid upon   
the  prince's pillow1 and the sudarium1 
or mortuary cloth1 which had covered    
his face1 was placed upon the prince's  
forehead4    ,modern science might      
object that the presence of so many     
personages1  however pious or well      
intentioned1 in a sick chamber on a hot 
,spanish ,may  day1 especially as the   
bath had been1 for some generations     
past1 held in  religious horror         
throughout ,spain1 as a sign of ,moorish
 and ,mussulman  tendencies1 might have 
somewhat interfered with the chances of 
the poor  boy's recovery4  ,nevertheless
 the event seems to have satisfied      

,philip's  highest hopes2 for that same 
night 7so ,don ,carlos afterwards       
related7 the  holy monk ,diego appeared 
to him in a vision1 wearing the habit of
 ,st4  ,francis1 and bearing in his hand
 a cross of reeds tied with a green     
band4  ,the prince stated that he first 
took the apparition to be that of the   
blessed ,st4 ,francis2 but not seeing   
the stigmata1 he exclaimed1 ,how8  ,dost
 thou not bear the marks of the wounds8 
,what he replied ,don ,carlos  did not  
recollect2 save that he consoled him1   
and told him that he should  not die of 
that malady4    ,philip had returned to 
,madrid1 and shut himself up in grief in
 the great  ,jeronymite monastery4      
,elizabeth was praying for her step-son 
before the  miraculous images of the    
same city4  ,during the night of the    
#ith of ,may  prayers went up for ,don  
,carlos in all the churches of ,toledo1 
,alcala1 and  ,madrid4  ,alva stood all 
that night at the bed's foot4  ,don     
,garcia de  ,toledo sat in the          

arm-chair1 where he had now sat night   
and day for more  than a fortnight4     
,the good preceptor1 ,honorato ,juan1   
afterwards ,bishop  of ,osma1 wrestled  
in prayer for the lad the whole night   
through4  ,his  prayer was answered3    
probably it had been answered already1  
without his  being aware of it4  ,be    
that as it may1 about dawn ,don ,carlos'
 heavy  breathing ceased2 he fell into a
 quiet sleep2 and when he awoke all     
perceived at once that he was saved4    
,he did not recover his sight1 seemingly
 on account of the erysipelas1 for  a   
week more4  ,he then opened his eyes    
upon the miraculous image of  ,atocha1  
and vowed that1 if he recovered1 he     
would give to the ,virgin1 at  four     
different shrines in ,spain1 gold plate 
of four times his weight2 and  silver   
plate of seven times his weight1 when he
 should rise from his  couch4  ,so on   
the #fth of ,june he rose1 and was      
weighed in a fur coat and  a robe of    
damask1 and his weight was three arrobas

 and one pound--seventy-  six pounds in 
all4  ,on the #adth of ,june he went to 
visit his father at  the episcopal      
palace2 then to all the churches and    
shrines in ,alcala1 and  of course to   
that of ,fray ,diego1 whose body it is  
said he contemplated  for some time with
 edifying devotion4  ,the next year saw 
,fray ,diego  canonised as a saint1 at  
the intercession of ,philip and his son2
 and thus  ,don ,carlos re-entered the  
world1 to be a terror and a torment to  
all  around him1 and to die--not by     
,philip's cruelty1 as his enemies       
reported  too hastily indeed1 yet       
excusably1 for they knew him to be      
capable of any  wickedness--but simply  
of constitutional insanity4    ,and now 
let us go back to the history of that   
most learned1 famous1 and  rare ,baron  
,vesalius1 who had stood by and seen all
 these things done2  and try if we      
cannot1 after we have learned the       
history of his early  life1 guess at    
some of his probable meditations on this

 celebrated  clinical case2 and guess   
also how those meditations may have     
affected  seriously the events of his   
after life4    ,vesalius 7as ,i said7   
was a ,netherlander1 born at ,brussels  
in #aeac or  #aead4  ,his father and    
grandfather had been medical men of the 
highest  standing in a profession which 
then1 as now1 was commonly hereditary4  
,his  real name was ,wittag1 an ancient 
family of ,wesel1 on the ,rhine1 from   
which town either he or his father      
adopted the name of ,vesalius1          
according to the classicising fashion of
 those days4  ,young ,vesalius was  sent
 to college at ,louvain1 where he       
learned rapidly4  ,at sixteen or        
seventeen he knew not only ,latin1 but  
,greek enough to correct the proofs  of 
,galen1 and ,arabic enough to become    
acquainted with the works of the        
,mussulman physicians4  ,he was a       
physicist1 too1 and a mathematician1    
according to the knowledge of those     
times2 but his passion--the study to    

which he was destined to devote his     
life--was anatomy4    ,little or nothing
 7it must be understood7 had been done  
in anatomy since  the days of ,galen of 
,pergamos1 in the second century after  
,christ1 and  very little even by him4  
,dissection was all but forbidden among 
the  ancients4  ,the ,egyptians1        
,herodotus tells us1 used to pursue with
 stones  and curses the embalmers as    
soon as they had performed their        
unpleasant  office2 and though          
,herophilus and ,erasistratus are said  
to have dissected  many subjects under  
the protection of ,ptolemy ,soter in    
,alexandria itself3  yet the public     
feeling of the ,greeks as well as of the
 ,romans continued  the same as that of 
the ancient ,egyptians2 and ,galen was  
fain--as  ,vesalius proved--to          
supplement his ignorance of the human   
frame by  describing that of an ape4    
,dissection was equally forbidden among 
the  ,mussulmans2 and the great ,arabic 
physicians could do no more than comment

  on ,galen4  ,the same prejudice       
extended through the middle age4        
,medical  men were all clerks1 clerici1 
and as such forbidden to shed blood4    
,the  only dissection1 as far as ,i am  
aware1 made during the middle age was   
one  by ,mundinus in #acjf2 and his     
subsequent commentaries on ,galen--for  
he  dare allow his own eyes to see no   
more than ,galen had seen before        
him--constituted the best anatomical    
manual in ,europe till the middle of    
the fifteenth century4    ,then1 in     
,italy at least1 the classic            
,renaissance gave fresh life to  anatomy
 as to all other sciences4  ,especially 
did the improvements in  painting and   
sculpture stir men up to a closer study 
of the human frame4  ,leonardo da ,vinci
 wrote a treatise on muscular anatomy3  
the artist and  the sculptor often      
worked together1 and realised that      
sketch of ,michael  ,angelo's in which  
he himself is assisting ,fallopius1     
,vesalius' famous  pupil1 to dissect4   

,vesalius soon found that his thirst for
 facts could  not be slaked by the      
theories of the middle age2 so in #aecj 
he went off  to ,montpellier1 where     
,francis ,i4 had just founded a medical 
school1 and  where the ancient laws of  
the city allowed the faculty each year  
the body  of a criminal4  ,from thence1 
after becoming the fellow-pupil and the 
friend of ,rondelet1 and probably also  
of ,rabelais and those other  luminaries
 of ,montpellier1 of whom ,i spoke in my
 essay on ,rondelet1 he  returned to    
,paris to study under old ,sylvius1     
whose real name was ,jacques  ,dubois1  
alias ,jock o' the ,wood2 and to learn  
less--as he complains  himself--in an   
anatomical theatre than a butcher might 
learn in his shop4    ,were it not that 
the whole question of dissection is one 
over which it is  right to draw a       
reverent veil1 as a thing painful1      
however necessary and  however innocent1
 it would be easy to raise ghastly      
laughter in many a  reader by the       

stories which ,vesalius himself tells of
 his struggles to  learn anatomy4--,how 
old ,sylvius tried to demonstrate the   
human frame from  a bit of a dog1       
fumbling in vain for muscles which he   
could not find1 or  which ought to have 
been there1 according to ,galen1 and    
were not2 while  young ,vesalius1 as    
soon as the old pedant's back was       
turned1 took his  place1 and1 to the    
delight of the students1 found for      
him--provided it  were there--what he   
could not find himself2--how he went    
body-snatching  and gibbet-robbing1     
often at the danger of his life1 as when
 he and his  friend were nearly torn to 
pieces by the cannibal dogs who haunted 
the  ,butte de ,montfaucon1 or place of 
public execution2--how he acquired1 by a
  long and dangerous process1 the only  
perfect skeleton then in the world1  and
 the hideous story of the robber to whom
 it had belonged--all these  horrors    
those who list may read for themselves  
elsewhere4  ,i hasten past  them with   

this remark--that to have gone through  
the toils1 dangers1 and  disgusts which 
,vesalius faced1 argued in a            
superstitious and cruel age  like his1  
no common physical and moral courage1   
and a deep conscience  that he was doing
 right1 and must do it at all risks in  
the face of a  generation which1        
peculiarly reckless of human life and   
human agony1  allowed that frame which  
it called the image of ,god to be       
tortured1  maimed1 desecrated in every  
way while alive2 and yet--straining at  
the  gnat after having swallowed the    
camel--forbade it to be examined when   
dead1 though for the purpose of         
alleviating the miseries of mankind4    
,the breaking out of war between        
,francis ,i4 and ,charles ,v4 drove     
,vesalius  back to his native country   
and ,louvain2 and in #aece we hear of   
him as a  surgeon in ,charles ,v4's     
army4  ,he saw1 most probably1 the      
,emperor's  invasion of ,provence1 and  
the disastrous retreat from before      

,montmorency's fortified camp at        
,avignon1 through a country in which    
that  crafty general had destroyed every
 article of human food1 except the half-
  ripe grapes4  ,he saw1 perhaps1 the   
,spanish soldiers1 poisoned alike by    
the sour fruit and by the blazing sun1  
falling in hundreds along the  white    
roads which led back into ,savoy1       
murdered by the peasantry whose         
homesteads had been destroyed1 stifled  
by the weight of their own armour1  or  
desperately putting themselves1 with    
their own hands1 out of a world  which  
had become intolerable4  ,half the army 
perished4  ,two thousand  corpses lay   
festering between ,aix and ,frejus      
alone4  ,if young ,vesalius  needed     
subjects1 the ambition and the crime of 
man found enough for him  in those      
blazing ,september days4    ,he went to 
,italy1 probably with the remnants of   
the army4  ,where could he  have rather 
wished to find himself8  ,he was at last
 in the country where  the human mind   

seemed to be growing young once more2   
the country of  revived arts1 revived   
sciences1 learning1 languages2          
and--though1 alas1  only for a while--of
 revived free thought1 such as ,europe  
had not seen  since the palmy days of   
,greece4  ,here at least he would be    
appreciated2  here at least he would be 
allowed to think and speak3 and he was  
appreciated4  ,the ,italian cities1 who 
were then1 like the ,athenians of  old1 
spending their time in nothing else save
 to hear or to tell  something new1     
welcomed the brave young ,fleming and   
his novelties4  ,within two years he was
 professor of anatomy at ,padua1 then   
the first  school in the world2 then at 
,bologna and at ,pisa at the same time2 
last  of all at ,venice1 where ,titian  
painted that portrait of him which      
remains  unto this day4    ,these years 
were for him a continual triumph2       
everywhere1 as he  demonstrated on the  
human body1 students crowded his        
theatre1 or hung  round him as he walked

 the streets2 professors left their own 
chairs--their scholars having deserted  
them already--to go and listen  humbly  
or enviously to the man who could give  
them what all brave souls  throughout   
half ,europe were craving for1 and      
craving in vain3 facts4  ,and  so1 year 
after year1 was realised that scene     
which stands engraved in the            
frontispiece of his great book--where1  
in the little quaint ,cinquecento       
theatre1 saucy scholars1 reverend       
doctors1 gay gentlemen1 and even cowled 
monks1 are crowding the floor1 peeping  
over each other's shoulders1  hanging on
 the balustrades2 while in the centre1  
over his subject--which  one of those   
same cowled monks knew but too          
well--stands young ,vesalius1  upright1 
proud1 almost defiant1 as one who knows 
himself safe in the  impregnable citadel
 of fact2 and in his hand the little    
blade of steel1  destined--because      
wielded in obedience to the laws of     
nature1 which are  the laws of ,god--to 

work more benefit for the human race    
than all the  swords which were drawn in
 those days1 or perhaps in any other1 at
 the  bidding of most ,catholic         
,emperors and most ,christian ,kings4   
,those were indeed days of triumph for  
,vesalius2 of triumph deserved1  because
 earned by patient and accurate toil in 
a good cause3 but  ,vesalius1 being but 
a mortal man1 may have contracted in    
those same days  a temper of            
imperiousness and self-conceit1 such as 
he showed afterwards  when his pupil    
,fallopius dared to add fresh           
discoveries to those of his  master4    
,and yet1 in spite of all ,vesalius     
knew1 how little he knew6  ,how         
humbling to his pride it would have been
 had he known then--perhaps he  does    
know now--that he had actually again and
 again walked1 as it were1  round and   
round the true theory of the circulation
 of the blood1 and yet  never seen it2  
that that discovery which1 once made1 is
 intelligible1 as  far as any phenomenon

 is intelligible1 to the merest peasant1
 was  reserved for another century1 and 
for one of those ,englishmen on whom    
,vesalius would have looked as          
semi-barbarians4    ,to make a long     
story short3 three years after the      
publication of his  famous book1 ',de   
,corporis ,humani ,fabrica1' he left    
,venice to cure ,charles  ,v41 at       
,regensburg1 and became one of the great
 ,emperor's physicians4    ,this was the
 crisis of ,vesalius' life4  ,the       
medicine with which he had  worked the  
cure was ,china--,sarsaparilla1 as we   
call it now--brought home  from the then
 newly-discovered banks of the ,paraguay
 and ,uruguay1 where  its beds of       
tangled vine1 they say1 tinge the clear 
waters a dark brown  like that of peat1 
and convert whole streams into a        
healthful and  pleasant tonic4  ,on the 
virtues of this ,china 7then supposed to
 be a  root7 ,vesalius wrote a famous   
little book1 into which he contrived to 
interweave his opinions on things in    

general1 as good ,bishop ,berkeley did  
afterwards into his essay on the virtues
 of tar-water4  ,into this book1        
however1 ,vesalius introduced--as       
,bishop ,berkeley did not--much1 and    
perhaps too much1 about himself2 and    
much1 though perhaps not too much1      
about poor old ,galen1 and his          
substitution of an ape's inside for that
 of  a human being4  ,the storm which   
had been long gathering burst upon him4 
,the old school1 trembling for their    
time-honoured reign1 bespattered1  with 
all that pedantry1 ignorance1 and envy  
could suggest1 the man who  dared not   
only to revolutionise surgery1 but to   
interfere with the  privileged mysteries
 of medicine2 and1 over and above1 to   
become a  favourite at the court of the 
greatest of monarchs4  ,while such as   
,eustachius1 himself an able discoverer1
 could join in the cry1 it is no  wonder
 if a lower soul1 like that of ,sylvius1
 led it open-mouthed4  ,he  was a mean1 
covetous1 bad man1 as ,george ,buchanan 

well knew2 and1  according to his       
nature1 he wrote a furious book1 ',ad   
,vesani calumnias  depulsandas4'  ,the  
punning change of ,vesalius into        
,vesanus 7madman7 was  but a fair and   
gentle stroke for a polemic1 in days in 
which those who  could not kill their   
enemies with steel or powder1 held      
themselves  justified in doing so1 if   
possible1 by vituperation1 culumny1 and 
every  engine of moral torture4  ,but a 
far more terrible weapon1 and one which 
made ,vesalius rage1 and it may be for  
once in his life tremble1 was the       
charge of impiety and heresy4  ,the     
,inquisition was a very ugly place4  ,it
  was very easy to get into it1         
especially for a ,netherlander3 but not 
so  easy to get out4  ,indeed ,vesalius 
must have trembled1 when he saw his     
master1 ,charles ,v41 himself take      
fright1 and actually call on the        
theologians of ,salamanca to decide     
whether it was lawful to dissect a      
human body4  ,the monks1 to their       

honour1 used their common sense1 and    
answered ,yes4  ,the deed was so plainly
 useful1 that it must be lawful         
likewise4  ,but ,vesalius did not feel  
that he had triumphed4  ,he dreaded1    
possibly1 lest the storm should only    
have blown over for a time4  ,he  fell1 
possibly1 into hasty disgust at the     
folly of mankind1 and despair  of       
arousing them to use their common sense1
 and acknowledge their true  interest   
and their true benefactors4  ,at all    
events1 he threw into the  fire--so it  
is said--all his unpublished            
manuscripts1 the records of long  years 
of observation1 and renounced science   
thenceforth4    ,we hear of him after   
this at ,brussels1 and at ,basle        
likewise--in which  latter city1 in the 
company of physicians1 naturalists1 and 
,grecians1 he  must have breathed awhile
 a freer air4  ,but he seems to have    
returned  thence to his old master      
,charles ,v41 and to have finally       
settled at  ,madrid as a court surgeon  

to ,philip ,,ii41 who sent him1 but too 
late1 to  extract the lance splinters   
from the eye of the dying ,henry ,,ii4  
,he was now married to a lady of rank   
from ,brussels1 ,anne van ,hamme by     
name2 and their daughter married in time
 ,philip ,,ii4's grand falconer1 who    
was doubtless a personage of no small   
social rank4  ,he was well off in       
worldly things2 somewhat fond1 it is    
said1 of good living and of luxury2     
inclined1 it may be1 to say1 ,let us eat
 and drink1 for to-morrow we  die1 and  
to sink more and more into the mere     
worldling1 unless some  shock awoke him 
from his lethargy4    ,and the awakening
 shock did come4  ,after eight years of 
court life1 he  resolved early in the   
year #aefd to go on pilgrimage to       
,jerusalem4    ,the reasons for so      
strange a determination are wrapped in  
mystery and  contradiction4  ,the common
 story was that he had opened a corpse  
to  ascertain the cause of death1 and   
that1 to the horror of the bystanders1  

the heart was still seen to beat2 that  
his enemies accused him to the          
,inquisition1 and that he was condemned 
to death1 a sentence which was  commuted
 to that of going on pilgrimage4  ,but  
here1 at the very outset1  accounts     
differ4  ,one says that the victim was a
 nobleman1 name not  given2 another that
 it was a lady's maid1 name not given4  
,it is most  improbable1 if not         
impossible1 that ,vesalius1 of all men1 
should have  mistaken a living body for 
a dead one2 while it is most probable1  
on the  other hand1 that his medical    
enemies would gladly raise such a       
calumny  against him1 when he was no    
longer in ,spain to contradict it4      
,meanwhile  ,llorente1 the historian of 
the ,inquisition1 makes no mention of   
,vesalius  having been brought before   
its tribunal1 while he does mention     
,vesalius'  residence at ,madrid4       
,another story is1 that he went abroad  
to escape the  bad temper of his wife2  
another that he wanted to enrich        

himself4  ,another  story--and that not 
an unlikely one--is1 that he was jealous
 of the  rising reputation of his pupil 
,fallopius1 then professor of anatomy at
  ,venice4  ,this distinguished surgeon1
 as ,i said before1 had written a  book1
 in which he had added to ,vesalius'    
discoveries1 and corrected  certain     
errors of his4  ,vesalius had answered  
him hastily and angrily1  quoting his   
anatomy from memory2 for1 as he himself 
complained1 he could  not in ,spain     
obtain a subject for dissection2 not    
even1 he said1 a single  skull4  ,he had
 sent his book to ,venice to be         
published1 and had heard1  seemingly1   
nothing of it4    ,he may have felt that
 he was falling behind in the race of   
science1 and  that it was impossible for
 him to carry on his studies in ,madrid2
 and so1  angry with his own laziness   
and luxury1 he may have felt the old    
sacred  fire flash up in him1 and have  
determined to go to ,italy and become a 
student and a worker once more4    ,the 

very day that he set out1 ,clusius of   
,arras1 then probably the best  botanist
 in the world1 arrived at ,madrid2 and1 
asking the reason of  ,vesalius'        
departure1 was told by their            
fellow-countryman1 ,charles de          
,tisnacq1 procurator for the affairs of 
the ,netherlands1 that ,vesalius had    
gone of his own free will1 and with all 
facilities which ,philip could  grant   
him1 in performance of a vow which he   
had made during a dangerous  illness4   
,here1 at least1 we have a drop of      
information1 which seems  taken from the
 stream sufficiently near to the        
fountain-head3 but it must  be          
recollected that ,de ,tisnacq lived in  
dangerous times1 and may have  found it 
necessary to walk warily in them2 that  
through him had been  sent1 only the    
year before1 that famous letter from    
,william of ,orange1  ,horn1 and        
,egmont1 the fate whereof may be read in
 ,mr4 ,motley's fourth  chapter2 that   
the crisis of the ,netherlands which    

sprung out of that  letter was coming   
fast2 and that1 as ,de ,tisnacq was on  
friendly terms  with ,egmont1 he may    
have felt his head at times somewhat    
loose on his  shoulders2 especially if  
he had heard ,alva say1 as he wrote1    
that every  time he saw the despatches  
of those three senors1 they moved his   
choler  so1 that if he did not take much
 care to temper it1 he would seem a     
frenzied man4  ,in such times1 ,de      
,tisnacq may have thought good to return
  a diplomatic answer to a              
fellow-countryman concerning a third    
fellow-countryman1 especially when that 
countryman1 as a former pupil of        
,melancthon at ,wittemberg1 might       
himself be under suspicion of heresy1   
and  therefore of possible treason4     
,be this as it may1 one cannot but      
suspect some strain of truth in the     
story about the ,inquisition2 perhaps in
 that1 also1 of his wife's  unkindness2 
for1 whether or not ,vesalius operated  
on ,don ,carlos1 he had  seen with his  

own eyes that miraculous ,virgin of     
,atocha at the bed's foot  of the       
prince4  ,he had heard his recovery     
attributed1 not to the  operation1 but  
to the intercession of ,fray1 now       
,saint1 ,diego2 #djh and  he must have  
had his thoughts thereon1 and may1 in an
 unguarded moment1  have spoken them4   
,for he was1 be it always remembered1 a 
,netherlander4  ,the crisis of his      
country was just at hand4  ,rebellion   
was inevitable1 and1 with rebellion1    
horrors unutterable2 and1 meanwhile1    
,don ,carlos had set his mad brain on   
having the command of the ,netherlands4 
,in his rage at not having it1 as  all  
the world knows1 he nearly killed ,alva 
with his own hands1 some two  years     
after4  ,if it be true that ,don ,carlos
 felt a debt of gratitude to  ,vesalius1
 he may 7after his wont7 have poured out
 to him some wild  confidence about the 
,netherlands1 to have even heard which  
would be a  crime in ,philip's eyes4    
,and if this be but a fancy1 still      

,vesalius was1  as ,i just said1 a      
,netherlander1 and one of a brain and a 
spirit to which  ,philip's doings1 and  
the air of the ,spanish court1 must have
 been growing  even more and more       
intolerable4  ,hundreds of his country  
folk1 perhaps  men and women whom he had
 known1 were being racked1 burnt alive1 
buried  alive1 at the bidding of a      
jocular ruffian1 ,peter ,titelmann1 the 
chief  inquisitor4  ,the day of the     
mau-brulez1 and the wholesale massacre  
which followed it1 had happened but two 
years before2 and1 by all the  signs of 
the times1 these murders and miseries   
were certain to increase4  ,and why were
 all these poor wretches suffering the  
extremity of horror1  but because they  
would not believe in miraculous images1 
and bones of  dead friars1 and the rest 
of that science of unreason and unfact1 
against  which ,vesalius had been       
fighting all his life1 consciously or   
not1 by  using reason and observing     
fact8  ,what wonder if1 in some burst of

 noble  indignation and just contempt1  
he forgot a moment that he had sold his 
soul1 and his love of science likewise1 
to be a luxurious1 yet uneasy1          
hanger-on at the tyrant's court2 and    
spoke unadvisedly some word worthy  of a
 ,german man8    ,as to the story of his
 unhappy quarrels with his wife1 there  
may be a  grain of truth in it likewise4
  ,vesalius' religion must have sat very
  lightly on him4  ,the man who had     
robbed churchyards and gibbets from his 
youth was not likely to be much afraid  
of apparitions and demons4  ,he had     
handled too many human bones to care    
much for those of saints4  ,he was      
probably1 like his friends of ,basle1   
,montpellier1 and ,paris1 somewhat of  a
 heretic at heart1 probably somewhat of 
a pagan4  ,his lady1 ,anne van  ,hamme1 
was probably a strict ,catholic1 as her 
father1 being a councillor  and master  
of the exchequer at ,brussels1 was bound
 to be2 and  freethinking in the        
husband1 crossed by superstition in the 

wife1 may  have caused in them that     
wretched vie a part1 that want of any   
true  communion of soul1 too common to  
this day in ,catholic countries4    ,be 
these things as they may--and the exact 
truth of them will now be  never        
known--,vesalius set out to ,jerusalem  
in the spring of #aefd4  ,on his  way he
 visited his old friends at ,venice to  
see about his book against  ,fallopius4 
,the ,venetian republic received the    
great philosopher with  open arms4      
,fallopius was just dead2 and the senate
 offered their guest  the vacant chair  
of anatomy4  ,he accepted it3 but went  
on to the ,east4    ,he never occupied  
that chair2 wrecked upon the ,isle of   
,zante1 as he was  sailing back from    
,palestine1 he died miserably of fever  
and want1 as  thousands of pilgrims     
returning from the ,holy ,land had died 
before him4  ,a  goldsmith recognised   
him2 buried him in a chapel of the      
,virgin2 and put  up over him a simple  
stone1 which remained till late years2  

and may  remain1 for aught ,i know1 even
 now4    ,so perished1 in the prime of  
life1 a martyr to his love of science1  
to  quote the words of ,m4 ,burggraeve  
of ,ghent1 his able biographer and      
commentator1 the prodigious man1 who    
created a science at an epoch when      
everything was still an obstacle to his 
progress2 a man whose whole life  was a 
long struggle of knowledge against      
ignorance1 of truth against  lies4      
,plaudite3 ,exeat3 with ,rondelet and   
,buchanan4  ,and whensoever this poor   
foolish world needs three such men1 may 
,god of his great mercy send them4      
,footnotes      #ae  #i1 ,adam ,street1 
,adelphi1 ,london4    #gb  ,i quote from
 the translation of the late lamented   
,philip ,stanhope  ,worsley1 of ,corpus 
,christi ,college1 ,oxford4    #gf      
,odyssey1 book vi4 #abg-cae2 vol4 i4 pp4
 #adc-aej of ,mr4 ,worsley's            
translation4    #hh  ,since this essay  
was written1 ,i have been sincerely     
delighted to  find that my wishes had   

been anticipated at ,girton ,college1   
near  ,cambridge1 and previously at     
,hitchin1 whence the college was        
removed3 and  that the wise ladies who  
superintend that establishment propose  
also that  most excellent institution--a
 swimming bath4  ,a paper1 moreover1    
read  before the ,london ,association of
 ,schoolmistresses in #ahff1 on         
,physical  ,exercises and ,recreation   
for ,girls1 deserves all attention4     
,may those  who promote such things     
prosper as they deserve4    #bef  ,for  
an account of ,sorcery and ,fetishism   
among the ,african ,negros1  see        
,burton's ',lake ,regions of ,central   
,africa1' vol4 ii4 pp4 #cda-cfj4    #cjd
  ,an arcade in the ,king's ,school1    
,chester4    #cbh  ,so says ,dr4        
,irving1 writing in #ahag4  ,i have1    
however1 tried in  vain to get a sight  
of this book4  ,i need not tell ,scotch 
scholars how  much ,i am indebted       
throughout this article to ,dr4 ,david  
living's erudite  second edition of     

,buchanan's ,life4    #cdc  ,from the   
quaint old translation of #agba1 by ,a  
,person of ,honour of  the ,kingdom of  
,scotland4    #ceh  ,a ,life of         
,rondelet1 by his pupil ,laurent        
,joubert1 is to be found  appended to   
his works2 and with it an account of his
 illness and death1  by his cousin1     
,claude ,formy1 which is well worth the 
perusal of any man1  wise or foolish4   
,many interesting details beside1 ,i owe
 to the courtesy  of ,professor         
,planchon1 of ,montpellier1 author of a 
discourse on ',rondelet  et ses         
,disciples1' which appeared1 with a     
learned and curious ,appendice1  in the 
',montpellier ,medical' for #ahff4      
#cij  ,i owe this account of            
,bloet's--which appears to me the only  
one  trustworthy--to the courtesy and   
erudition of ,professor ,henry ,morley1 
who  finds it quoted from ,bloet's      
',acroama1' in the ',observationum      
,medicarum  ,rariorum1 lib4 vii41' of   
,john ,theodore ,schenk4  ,those who    

wish to know  several curious passages  
of ,vesalius' life1 which ,i have not   
inserted in  this article1 would do well
 to consult one by ,professor ,morley1  
',anatomy  in ,long ,clothes1' in       
',fraser's ,magazine' for ,november1    
#ahec4  ,may ,i  express a hope1 which  
,i am sure will be shared by all who    
have read  ,professor ,morley's         
biographies of ,jerome ,cardan and of   
,cornelius ,agrippa1  that he will find 
leisure to return to the study of       
,vesalius' life2 and  will do for him   
what he has done for the two            
just-mentioned writers8    #cib         
,olivarez' ',relacion' is to be found in
 the ,granvelle ,state ,papers4  ,for   
the general account of ,don ,carlos'    
illness1 and of the miraculous  agencies
 by which his cure was said to have been
 effected1 the general  reader should   
consult ,miss ,frere's ',biography of   
,elizabeth of ,valois1'  vol4 i4 pp4    
#cjg-ai4    #djh  ,in justice to poor   
,doctor ,olivarez1 it must be said1 that

 while he  allows all force to the      
intercession of the ,virgin and of ,fray
 ,diego1 and  of many just persons1 he  
cannot allow that there was any miracle 
properly so called1 because the prince  
was cured according to natural  order1  
and by experimented remedies of the     
physicians4