he Greek. It is true as Macaulay wrote, the historical plays
of Shakespeare have superseded history. When we think of Henry V, it is
of Prince Hal, the boon companion of Falstaff, who spent his youth in
brawl and riot, and then became a sober and duty-loving king; and our
idea of Richard III. is a deceitful, dissembling, cruel wretch who knew
no touch of pity, a bloody tyrant who knew no law of God or man.

The Achilles of Homer was a very living personage to Alexander. How
happy he was, said the great general, when he visited Troy, "in having
while he lived so faithful a friend, and when he was dead so famous a
poet to proclaim his actions"! In our century, as more in consonance
with society under the regime of contract, when force has largely given,
pay to craft, we feel in greater sympathy with Ulysses; "The one person
I would like to have met and talked with," Froude used to say, "was
Ulysses. How interesting it would be to have his opinion on universal
suffrage, and on a House of Parliament where Thersites is listened to as
patiently as the king of men!"

We may also concede that, in the realm of intellectual endeavor, the
natural and physical sciences should have the precedence of history. The
present is more important than the past, and those sciences which
contribute to our comfort, place within the reach of the laborer and
mechanic as common necessaries what would have been the highest luxury
to the Roman emperor or to the king of the Middle Ages, contribute to
health and the preservation of life, and by the development of railroads
make possible such a gathering as this,--these sciences, we cheerfully
admit, outrank our modest enterprise, which, in the words of Herodotus,
is "to preserve from decay the remembrance of what men have done." It
may be true, as a geologist once said, in extolling his study at the
expense of the humanities, "Rocks do not lie, although men do;" yet, on
the other hand, the historic sense, which during our century has
diffused itself widely, has invaded the domain of physical science. If
you are unfortunate enough to be ill, and consult a doctor, he
expatiates on the history of your disease. It was once my duty to attend
the Commencement exercises of a technical school, when one of the
graduates had a thesis on bridges. As he began by telling how they were
built in Julius Caesar's time, and tracing at some length the development
of the art during the period of the material prosperity o