ABSTRACT
Human nature has many curious traits, but one of the most curious is pride in illness. No one thinks it a fine thing to have a motor car that is perpetually going out of order: people do not boast that after a long run their car is completely useless for several weeks, or that it is perpetually developing strange troubles which even the most skilful mechanics cannot put right. Yet that is just how people feel about their own bodies. To have a body that does its work satisfactorily is felt to be uninteresting and rather plebeian. A delicate digestion is almost indispensable in the equipment of a fine lady; in all ranks of life, it is thought a source of pride to have suffered grave danger to life in maternity. I am aware in myself of the impulse to boast of illness: I have only been ill once, but I like people to know how very ill I was that once, and I feel vexed when I come across other people who have been more nearly dead without dying.
