f triumph were meant, not for people more cultured and
self-conscious than modern tourists, but for people much rougher and
more casual. Those leaps of live stone like frozen fountains, were so
placed and poised as to catch the eye of ordinary inconsiderate men
going about their daily business; and when they are so seen they
are never forgotten. The true way of reviving the magic of our great
minsters and historic sepulchres is not the one which Ruskin was always
recommending. It is not to be more careful of historic buildings. Nay,
it is rather to be more careless of them. Buy a bicycle in Maidstone to
visit an aunt in Dover, and you will see Canterbury Cathedral as it was
built to be seen. Go through London only as the shortest way between
Croydon and Hampstead, and the Nelson Column will (for the first time in
your life) remind you of Nelson. You will appreciate Hereford Cathedral
if you have come for cider, not if you have come for architecture. You
will really see the Place Vendome if you have come on business, not
if you have come for art. For it was for the simple and laborious
generations of men, practical, troubled about many things, that our
fathers reared those portents. There is, indeed, another element, not
unimportant: the fact that people have gone to cathedrals to pray. But
in discussing modern artistic cathedral-lovers, we need not consider
this.

A Criminal Head

When men of science (or, more often, men who talk about science) speak
of studying history or human society scientifically they always forget
that there are two quite distinct questions involved. It may be that
certain facts of the body go with certain facts of the soul, but it
by no means follows that a grasp of such facts of the body goes with
a grasp of the things of the soul. A man may show very learnedly that
certain mixtures of race make a happy community, but he may be quite
wrong (he generally is) about what communities are happy. A man may
explain scientifically how a certain physical type involves a really bad
man, but he may be quite wrong (he generally is) about which sort of man
is really bad. Thus his whole argument is useless, for he understands
only one half of the equation.

The drearier kind of don may come to me and say, "Celts are
unsuccessful; look at Irishmen, for instance." To which I should reply,
"You may know all about Celts; but it is obvious that you know nothing
about Irishmen. The Irish are not in the lea