PROFESSOR FLINT'S APPRECIATION 45 



present was a Glasgow Professor of Theology who had even less esteem for physical 

 science than our dear departed friend had for metaphysics. Tait was very naturally 

 drawn out to talk about the subjects which he had been lecturing on, and he did 

 so largely and to the delight and edification of every one except the worthy and 

 venerable Glasgow Professor, who, when he could stand it no longer, gravely put 

 the question "But, Mr Tait, do you really mean to say that there is much value 

 in such inquiries as you have been speaking about?" After that the subject was 

 changed, and during the rest of the evening the great physicist and great 

 metaphysicist did little else than, as Tulloch expressed it, "glour at each other." 



Tait was a genius, but a genius whose life was ruled by a sense of duty, and 

 which was shown to be so by the vast amount of work he accomplished, and which 

 is acknowledged by those who are ablest to judge of its worth, to be of the highest 

 value. He was a genius with an immense capability of doing most difficult 

 work, and he faithfully did it. His life was one of almost continuous labour. He 

 faithfully obeyed the injunction, " Work while it is called to-day." And the work which 

 he chose to do was always hard work, work which few could do, work which demands 

 no scattering of one's energies, but the utmost concentration of them. He wasted 

 no portion of his time in trying to keep himself en evidence before the world. He 

 willingly left to others whatever he thought others could do as well or better than 

 himself. But whatever he thought it his duty to undertake he did thoroughly. 

 Thus for the last twenty years at least he was the leading spirit in an institution 

 more closely connected, perhaps, than any other with the University of Edinburgh. 

 I mean the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 



It is natural for those of us who painfully feel that we shall not see his like 

 again, natural for those who are most deeply deploring his loss, to wish that 

 a longer life had been granted to him. Yet they may well doubt if he himself 

 would have desired a mere prolongation of life. I cannot but think that he would 

 not have cared for a life in which he could not labour. 



While his friends must sorrow for his loss, they are bound also to acknowledge 

 that God had been very good and gracious to him. He was favoured with many 

 years of health and strength in which to work. His abilities were so conspicuous even 

 in youth that they could not be hid. He could hardly have been earlier placed than 

 he was in the very positions most favourable to the exercise of the gifts which had 

 been bestowed on him. He was a Professor for forty-seven years, a Professor in 

 Edinburgh for forty-one years. He was beloved by his students. His colleagues 

 were proud of him. His country knew his worth. His many contributions are to 

 be published in a suitable form at the cost of his English Alma Mater. He is 

 among the rare few in a generation of whom the memories live through the 

 centuries. Add thereto that his own worth and the value of his work were by none 

 more fully appreciated than by those who were nearest and dearest to him, and 

 that all distracting cares were spared him, and he was wisely left to follow the bent 

 of his own genius. He had, so far as I know, only few great afflictions. The 

 greatest which fell alike on him and his family was the loss of the generous, gallant, 

 brilliant youth, who met a soldier's death near the Modder River, and in that loss 

 a nation sympathised with him. 



