ual minds and temperaments of those who describe them:
a Carlyle, a Michelet, a Taine, are natural forces also, which may serve
or may damage us.

Moreover, I hold by the belief, expressed years ago, in my previous
volume of Renaissance studies, to wit, that historical reading (and in
historical I include the history of thoughts and feelings as much as of
events and persons) is a useful exercise for our sympathies, bringing us
wider and more wholesome notions of justice and charity. And I feel sure
that other uses for historical studies could be pointed out by other
persons, apart from the satisfaction they afford to those who pursue
them, which, considered merely as so much spiritual gymnastics, or
cricket, or football, or alpineering, is surely not to be despised.

But now, having dropped long since out of the ranks of those who study
in order to benefit others, or even to benefit only themselves, I would
say a few words about the advantage which mere readers, as distinguished
from writers, may get from familiarity with the Past.

This advantage is that they may find in the Past not merely a fine field
for solitary and useless delusions (though that also seems necessary),
but an additional world for real companionship and congenial activity.
Our individual activities and needs of this kind are innumerable, and of
infinite delicate variety; and there is reason to suppose that the place
in which our lot is cast does not necessarily fit them to perfection. For
things in this world are very roughly averaged; and although averaging
is a useful, rapid way of despatching business, it does undoubtedly
waste a great deal which is too good for wasting. Hence, it seems to me,
the need which many of us feel, which most of us would feel, if secured
of food and shelter, of spending a portion of their life of the spirit
in places and climates beyond that River Oceanus which bounds the land
of the living.

As I write these words, I am conscious that this will strike many
readers as the expression of a superfine and selfish dilettantism,
arising no doubt from morbid lack of sympathy with the world into which
Heaven has put us. What! become absentees from the poor, much troubled
Present; turn your backs to Realities, become idle strollers in the
Past? And why not, dear friends? why not recognise the need for a holiday?
why not admit, just because work has to be done and loads to be borne,
that we cannot grind and pant on without int