Let us turn now to another consideration.  For a man to be light of heart he must have confidence in humanity.  He cannot greet the morn with a smiling countenance if he believes that he and his fellows are slipping down the broad path which leads to destruction.  The archaeologist never despairs of mankind; for he has seen nations rise and fall till he is almost giddy, but he knows that there has never been a general deterioration.  He realises that though a great nation may suffer defeat and annihilation, it is possible for it to go down in such a thunder that the talk of it stimulates other nations for all time.  He sees, if any man can, that all things work together for happiness.  He has observed the cycle of events, the good years and the bad; and in an evil time he is comforted by the knowledge that the good will presently roll round again.  Thus the lesson which he can teach is a very real necessity to that contentment of mind which lies at the root of all gaiety.

Again, a man cannot be permanently happy unless he has a just sense of proportion.  He who is too big for his boots must needs limp; and he who has a swollen head is in perpetual discomfort.  The history of the lives of men, the history of the nations, gives one a fairer sense of proportion than does almost any other study.  In the great company of the men of old he cannot fail to assess his true value:  if he has any conceit there is a greater than he to snub him; if he has a poor opinion of his powers there is many a fool with whom to contrast himself favourably.  If he would risk his fortune on the spinning of a coin, being aware of the prevalence of his good-luck, archaeology will tell him that the best luck will change; or if, when in sore straits, he asks whether ever a man was so unlucky, archaeology will answer him that many millions of men have been more unfavoured than he.  Archaeology provides a precedent for almost every event or occurrence where modern inventions are not involved; and, in this manner, one may reckon their value and determine their trend.  Thus many of the small worries which cause so leaden a weight to lie upon the heart and mind are by the archaeologist ignored; and many of the larger calamities by him are met with serenity.

But not only does the archaeologist learn to estimate himself and his actions:  he learns also to see the relationship in which his life stands to the course of Time.  Without archaeology a man may be disturbed lest the world be about to come to an end:  after a study of history he knows that it has only just begun; and that gaiety which is said to have obtained “when the world was young” is to him, therefore, a present condition.  By studying the ages the archaeologist learns to reckon in units of a thousand years; and it is only then that that little unit of threescore-and-ten falls into its proper proportion.  “A thousand ages in Thy sight are like an evening gone,” says the hymn, but it is only the archaeologist who knows the meaning of the words; and it is only he who can explain that great discrepancy in the Christian faith between the statement “Behold, I come quickly” and the actual fact.  A man who knows where he is in regard to his fellows, and realises where he stands in regard to Time, has learnt a lesson of archaeology which is as necessary to his peace of mind as his peace of mind is necessary to his gaiety.