up in 1593, there were those of middle age who could tell racy stories of Caius, the co-founder of the college, against whose iron rule they had rebelled. ‘Charged not only with a show of a perverse stomach to the professors of the Gospel, but with Atheism/ the last days of Caius’s noble life were embittered by strife and misunderstanding. Doubtless the generous souls among them had long since learned to realize the greatness of his character, and were content to leave 'the heat of his faith to God’s sole judgement, and the light of his good works to men’s imitation’, with which words, half a century later, the inimitable Fuller concludes a short sketch of his life. I like to think that, perhaps, one of these very rebels, noting the studious and inquisitive nature of Harvey, had put into the lad’s hand the little tractate, De libris propriis, from which to glean a knowledge of the life and works of their great benefactor.
The contemplation of such a career as that of Caius could not but inspire with enthusiasm any young man. No one in the profession in England had before that time reached a position which I may describe as European. An enthusiastic student and the friend of all the great scholars of the day; a learned commentator on the works of the Fathers; the first English student in clinical medicine; a successful teacher and practitioner; a keen naturalist; a liberal patron of learning and letters; a tender and sympathetic friend—Johannes Caius is one of the great figures in our history. Nor need I dwell, before this audience, on his devotion to our interests, other than to say that the memory of no Fellow on our roll should be more precious to us. Four years hence, on October 6, will occur the quater-centenary of his birth. As well in love as in gratitude, we could celebrate it in no more appropriate manner,
