as one might seek to-day among the heroes of Central and South America. The history of Grecian public affairs is a continuous tale of treachery and dishonor. Treaties between the states were made only to be broken; truth was unknown and other nations, however much they might disagree in reference to most subjects, were one in believing that the Greek was always a liar. The petty affairs of Marathon and Thermopylae have been matched a thousand times in every land. A New York policeman attacking a band of armed ruffians, single handed, without the moral support of 300 or 10,000 companions, is a nobler spectacle than that at either of the Greek battlefields—and it occurs every week. The hand-to-hand combat on Cemetery Hill at Gettysburg, where men fought until barely three scores remained in each regiment and the combat ended only because the survivors fell exhausted, was truer martial heroism than anything in Grecian history.
The modern world unquestionably owes much to Greece and Rome, but much less than many would have us believe. The shackles forged by the Greek and Roman intellect crippled development after the revival of learning and centuries passed before men succeeded in casting them off. One must concede unhesitatingly the brilliancy of many ancient writers, but that is not to say that they excelled or even equalled those of modern times. Modern thinkers excel those of the classic world, because the horizon is farther away; just as civilized man with many concepts excels the Greenlander or Hottentot with his few concepts. And it may be said in passing that Greek civilization was not self-originated. It was but the full blossoming of Egypt and Babylonia, a blossoming which ignored the trunk and roots whence it was derived.
But granting that the ancients did excel the moderns in intellectual power and in loftiness of thought, one is compelled to ask the classicist why college students are not permitted to come into contact with the authors themselves. One may assert, without any fear of successful contradiction, that the teaching of Latin and Greek as given in the vast majority of our colleges during the last half century, has not done this; for few men have acquired in college such familiar knowledge of the language as would enable them to think much of what the author said. Their labor was expended on lexicon work and construction. If these extollers of classic intellect are honest in their plea, why do they neglect genuine study of the authors in the college course? Plato, Seneca, Lucretius and the rest have been done into English in such fashion that the study might be made attractive to the last degree, while the English versions themselves could be used as models of style. But this has not been suggested. The clamor respecting the glory of ancient days is but a plea for restoration of classical courses to the preeminent place in college. But it is wholly irrelevant. As well might one urge the grandeur of St. Peter's at Rome to support a demand that
