Chapter VIII

They tell us that Greek is going, here. Well, I hold no brief for compulsory Greek; and I shall say but one word on it. I put it, rather idly, to a vote in a Cambridge Combination Room, the other day, and was amazed to find how the votes were divided. The men of science were by no means unanimous. They owned that there was much to be said even for compulsory Greek, if only Greek had been intelligently taught. And with that, of course, I agree: for to learn Greek is, after all, a baptism into a noble cult. The Romans knew _that._ I believe that, even yet, if the schools would rebuild their instruction in Greek so as to make it interesting, as it ought to be, from the first, we should oust those birds who croak and chatter upon the walls of our old Universities. I find the following in FitzGerald's "Polonius":

An old ruinous tower which had harboured innumerable
jackdaws, sparrows, and bats, was at length repaired. When
the masons left it, the jackdaws, sparrows, and bats came back
in search of their old dwellings. But these were all filled up.
'Of what use now is this great building?' said they, 'come let
us forsake this useless stone-heap:

And the beauty of this little apologue is that you can read it either way.