his delivery. If it were not impertinent and ungrateful to requite such hospitality by advice, the Irish spectator were disposed to impart the time-honoured and masterly advice of the elder Cato — Rem tene, verba sequentur.
Conversation is almost always more agreeable than set speeches, because it must necessarily conform to this rule, and the conversation at Leyden was no exception. After all the feasts and the state receptions, and the audiences with the king, and the gracious queen, and the affable princes, audiences necessarily short, and yet full of interest — after the exuberant evenings with the students, where the eager young faces warm the heart with as deep a delight as all the gold and the jewels of royal state — after all these varied distractions have been calmly reviewed, the conviction ripens that of all the many pleasures provided, that which was the least consciously provided by the hosts was the best — it was the daily contact with the great men who are now maintaining the old honour and renown of their famous university. It were obviously impossible for any single observer to appreciate all these men, for to appreciate each great specialist, some knowledge of each science is necessary, and who can attempt this nowadays? So then each visitor felt drawn to his congenial spirits, nor were those the least fortunate who knew classics enough to approach the great hellenist of Holland, and hear him speak of his own life and training, and of his principles in criticising the Greek classics.[1] The English scholar might well feel proud to hear him discard all German influences, and rank himself as strictly the follower of the great English school — the school of the three Richards, of Porson, and Bentley, and Dawes. This school has now, alas! migrated to Leyden. But it is the genius of Cobet which has transplanted it. Under his magic influence, under the strange fascination of his strong, bold, vehement nature, every earnest classical student is turned into the strict path of criticism, is trained in palæography, and through this necessary preparation set upon the duty of purifying our Greek texts; and so it happens that the lesser lights in Leyden have done and are doing more to amend our classics than all the stars of the British universities together. This great hellenist professes to know no Latin, and yet to hear him speak in Latin is a perfectly new sensation. No one could borrow a speech from him without instant detection. There is a Ciceronian flavour about it, which even at Leyden, the home of Latin speeches, is quite unapproachable. And yet he is evidently thinking in Latin, and forming his sentences as he proceeds. Even Madvig shrank from replying to his eloquence, and confessed that he had here met his master.
Were it not a violation of the obligations of guests, many pleasant pages could be tilled with anecdotes of such men as these by any fair observer. But the men of Leyden would doubtless look upon such a vivisector among them with greater fear than Cicero did upon Catiline, who, sitting in the senate, notat et designat oculis ad cædem unumquemque nostrum. Such a crime were worse than parricide. It would furthermore close the doors of the hospitable mansions, now open to English visitors with a hearty welcome. It is therefore safer and more profitable to advise young English scholars, who fancy themselves masters of their subject, to pay a visit to this seat of learning, and compare what they find there with what they have learned in England. Steamboats have not yet abolished insular prejudice, or railways conquered national pride. We still want contact with foreign learning, intimacy with foreign research, sympathy with foreign thought — if the republic of letters is to become a great state, instead of remaining a mere conglomerate of "village communities." For this reason periodical festivals and celebrations are more than mere recreation, better than mere dissipation; and this was so strongly felt by all the visitors at Leyden, that we may expect its great example to be followed by other universities. Though few can hope to equal the splendour of the late ceremony, the good seed which it has sown will doubtless not be suffered to lie dormant or to decay. J. P. Mahaffy.
- ↑ Those who take an interest in such things can appreciate the main by reading his Variæ Lectiones, in which there is more good Latin prose, and more sound Greek scholarship, than in an ordinairy library of classical commentaries.
