were
inaugurated; before politicians had become a race apart, admired or
execrated according to the temperament of the beholder; before writers
were solemnly divided into men-of-letters, novelists, _litterateurs_,
journalists, hacks, and professors; before physicians had become a
close corporation of certificated benefactors; not, indeed, before
lawyers had learnt to trade on human litigiousness, but before they
had won the respect of the public for the disinterested exercise of
their talents. The days of specialism have added to the sum-total of
human knowledge; but they have diminished intercourse, they have made
men more inaccessible to one another, they have promoted new
groupings, new atmospheres, new officialdoms, new barriers and
water-tight compartments.

The professional spirit has affected and infected the whole of modern
society; we see its results in what we call the "disappearance of
wit," or the "loss of the conversational faculty," or the "didactic
habit," or anything else implying regret for the individualism of the
past. It means that our several callings have separated us, have made
us into creatures of our profession, have established us on our own
particular pedestals on which, as good statues, we must remain, and
that our common humanity is an insufficient link between us. Our
special knowledge, our special habit, our special highly-esteemed
reputation, sets up a barrier which cuts us off from our fellows and
destroys community of feeling.

The politician of mediocre capacity may know enough to cut a figure
among his political associates only by judicious silence, or by
talkativeness on those subjects of which others are ignorant. But put
him among his non-political friends, and he is an oracle of wisdom
upon the law and the Constitution. The doctor, who has forgotten his
scientific principles but has picked up some empirical knowledge, has
the advantage of experience and authority as against the layman for
whom he prescribes. The lawyer, the civil servant, the professional
theologian, and the diplomat are in the same position. They all know
enough of their subject to be superior to those who know next to
nothing of it. They know enough to have pedestals of their own; to be
on their guard; to have a reputation to maintain; to conceal the "dram
of folly;" to be, to that extent, artificial in their relations with
men. They dare not betray the "laughable blunder," which, said Charles
Lamb, is the te