The divorce between science and the general intellectual world is unfortunate, but inevitable. It is unfortunate both for the scientific man and for the general _intelligentsia_. The scientific man, mentally companionless except for the little circle of his immediate co-workers, becomes less complete as a human being; he fails as a humanist. He too often accepts his outlawed position and turns his special interests into his exclusive interests, as if, through some inverted generosity, he refused to take where he could not give. He may grow to ignore the other intellectual activities of his time, as Darwin, to his distress, found he had grown to ignore poetry, or he may actually become intolerant of such activities and so add contempt to the ignorance with which his preoccupations are regarded by the outside world. For the outside world, also, this divorce is unfortunate. For science, in its own way, satisfies just the same impulses as do other intellectual interests, and some of them it satisfies more completely and in a richer way. A great waste of mental energy and much inconclusive discussion would be avoided were certain scientific results more generally known, and, more particularly, were the advantages of the scientific method more widely recognised and the method itself more extensively practised. An air of superiority is often noticed in the references of scientific men to certain current discussions. It is a fault of manner, but one difficult to avoid. “Inside” information usually has this effect on the possessor, and when it is information that cannot be shared the attitude is apt to become chronic. Both sides, then, are the poorer for their lack of intercourse. But this state of affairs seems to be inevitable. The claims of the Latin and Greek literatures to attention, whether they are justified or not, have led to the study of these languages being imposed on perhaps the majority of the people in this country who are predominantly interested in intellectual affairs. It is a training which consumes several years: is a training in the sciences to be added? This is manifestly impossible. Even if our whole educational system were radically altered, only those sciences, such as biology and psychology, which may be understood with comparatively little training, could ever become objects of common knowledge. But sciences where, in addition to a severe and prolonged discipline, special aptitude is necessary, must always be the property of the few. As, every year, all the sciences grow more complex, so the difficulty of obtaining an adequate knowledge of them increases. A dead language may be learnt once for all, but the language of a science must be learnt afresh every few years. The popular article of Huxley’s day, the link between the man of science and the general public, is now the link between the more and less advanced students of the same science. A so-called “popular” account of Relativity Theory, for instance, is like an annotated