edify the populace with so much of them as we think safe, while we
keep our position thereby, and in many cases make much money by your
science. Do that, and we will patronise you, applaud you, ask you
to our houses; and you shall be clothed in purple and fine linen,
and fare sumptuously with us every day. I know not whether these
latter are not the worst enemies which science has. They are often
such excellent, respectable, orderly, well-meaning persons. They
desire so sincerely that everyone should be wise: only not too
wise. They are so utterly unaware of the mischief they are doing.
They would recoil with horror if they were told they were so many
Iscariots, betraying Truth with a kiss.

But science, as yet, has withstood both terrors and blandishments.
In old times she endured being imprisoned and slain. She came to
life again. Perhaps it was the will of Him in whom all things live,
that she should live. Perhaps it was His spirit which gave her
life.

She can endure, too, being starved. Her votaries have not as yet
cared much for purple and fine linen, and sumptuous fare. There are
a very few among them who, joining brilliant talents to solid
learning, have risen to deserved popularity, to titles, and to
wealth. But even their labours, it seems to me, are never rewarded
in any proportion to the time and the intellect spent on them, nor
to the benefits which they bring to mankind; while the great
majority, unpaid and unknown, toil on, and have to find in science
her own reward. Better, perhaps, that it should be so. Better for
science that she should be free, in holy poverty, to go where she
will and say what she knows, than that she should be hired out at so
much a year to say things pleasing to the many, and to those who