brary. What does he not know? When in
an evil day a rector or dean, for instance, retires, I hear him in
conversation with the young porters mention the candidates for the post,
explain that such a one would not be confirmed by the minister, that
another would himself refuse to accept it, then drop into fantastic
details concerning mysterious papers received in the office, secret
conversations alleged to have taken place between the minister and
the trustee, and so on. With the exception of these details, he almost
always turns out to be right. His estimates of the candidates, though
original, are very correct, too. If one wants to know in what year some
one read his thesis, entered the service, retired, or died, then summon
to your assistance the vast memory of that soldier, and he will not only
tell you the year, the month and the day, but will furnish you also with
the details that accompanied this or that event. Only one who loves can
remember like that.
He is the guardian of the University traditions. From the porters who
were his predecessors he has inherited many legends of University life,
has added to that wealth much of his own gained during his time of
service, and if you care to hear he will tell you many long and
intimate stories. He can tell one about extraordinary sages who knew
_everything_, about remarkable students who did not sleep for weeks,
about numerous martyrs and victims of science; with him good triumphs
over evil, the weak always vanquishes the strong, the wise man the fool,
the humble the proud, the young the old. There is no need to take all
these fables and legends for sterling coin; but filter them, and you
will have left what is wanted: our fine traditions and the names of real
heroes, recognized as such by all.
In our society the knowledge of the learned world consists of anecdotes
of the extraordinary absentmindedness of certain old professors, and two
or three witticisms variously ascribed to Gruber, to me, and to Babukin.
For the educated public that is not much. If it loved science, learned
men, and students, as Nikolay does, its literature would long ago
have contained whole epics, records of sayings and doings such as,
unfortunately, it cannot boast of now.
After telling me a piece of news, Nikolay assumes a severe expression,
and conversation about business begins. If any outsider could at such
times overhear Nikolay's free use of our terminology, he might perhaps
imagine th
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