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The learned Stillé's style of criticism will remind many of our readers of a remarkably similar criticism made in Germany half a century ago, by another learned provost, president, director or superintendent; for we do not remember, at this moment, what was the exact title, at that time, of the functionary alluded to, and if we do not give the exact one in some way, we may be told "there was no such person." It is well known that the University of Göttingen was once at the head of all the great literary and scientific schools of Germany. But owing to the demoralization consequent on the French invasion, the old habit of requiring both provost and professors to possess literary or scientific qualifications as a sine qua non was discarded, and in its stead was adopted the new habit of making skill and smartness in politics the chief qualifications. If anybody could show that he had written a pamphlet in praise of Napoleon and his peculiar mode of rendering Germany "free, independent. and happy," he had only to apply for a professorship at Gottingen. If he could only show that he had written two or three pamphlets, then, if he or collusion; the party who breaks down in the effort to pay two hundred dollars in the current coin of the Republic, to be presented as a donation to the American Sunday School Union; and, also, to pay the full bill for a comfortable dinner, for the provosts, presidents, editors, reporters, bottleholders, etc.

It would be acknowledged by the party of the second part, alias the savage editor, that the party of the first part, alias the learned Provost, might claim the following rights and privileges, ex officio, to wit: since it is generally difficult, if not impossible, to see what is not to be seen, as in the memorable instance "renunciationem nuntiet," that high functionary may arm himself with Queen's Educational Microscope and Ramshorn's Latin Synonymes, both of which can be had in Chestnut street, not very far from the arena.

Finally, if by reason of his superior eloquence, as demonstrated so overwhelmingly in his famous window speech, he should prefer the oral mode of placing his classical learning beyond dispute, he shall have the right to address the savage editor in Latin, and if his Latin should prove more "incomprehensible" to the said savage than his English, let him be declared the victor! In either case the results are to be published in extras of the Inquirer and Bulletin. The successful "composition" to be headed in large capitals, with the legend, "Great is the University of Pennsylvania, and still greater is its learned Provost; " the unsuccessful composition to be headed with the more sober legend, "In the presence of men who are not blind or Billy, thou shalt not try to make an empty sack stand.” (!)

As to

had the ambition to be at the head of the institution, he had but to say the word, especially if he could make affidavit that he had some Gallic blood in his veins, though it were only the blood of a Gallic cobbler, or Gallic blanchisseuse. the German style in which the pamphlets were written, or whether the syntax or the orthography or both were defective, these were things with which Napoleon had nothing to do. It is hardly necessary to add that the results of the new system soon began to manifest themselves, so that in a short time the provost and faculty of the once noble and famous University of Gottingen became nearly as much objects of scorn and derision as those of the University of Pennsylvania are at this moment. Both the statesmen and scholars of England deeply regretted this, because the University of Gottingen had been founded and liberally endowed by George II. (of England). In order to test the truth of certain ugly rumors, George Canning once paid a visit to Gottingen incognito. He was refused admittance to the sacred precincts, but on his intimating that he merely came to purchase some degrees for himself and a few friends, he was hospitably entertained, and had no difficulty in striking a bargain for the pieces of parchment.

At this time Canning was one of the chief contributors to the famous Anti-Jacobin, edited by William Gifford, subsequently editor of the Edinburgh Review. Canning's first care on his return from Gottingen was to write The Rovers, a capital burlesque on the sentimental German drama. In this amusing piece he introduces Rogero, who sings a very mournful ditty, the two closing stanzas of which are:

"There first for thee my passion grew,

Sweet, sweet Matilda Pottingen !

Thou wast the daughter of my Tu

tor, Law Professor at the U

niversity of Gottingen,
niversity of Gottingen.

"Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu,
That kings and priests are plotting in,
Here, doomed to starve on water gru-
el, never shall I see the U-

niversity of Gottingen,

niversity of Gottingen.

Somebody was mischievous enough to send a copy of the Anti-Jacobin containing this lyric to the university of Gottingen, addressed to the Vorsteher of the Faculty. If Canning was not "exposed" for his ignorance and turpitude in this matter, nobody was ever exposed in the full sense of the term. One learned professor denounced him as an "impostor travelling under a false name," another as a "miserable spy," another as "an unprincipled fellow," etc. But his most formidable antagonist was the German professor of English, whose knowledge of that language was nearly as profound as Provost Stille's knowledge of Latin! "A pretty fellow, indeed," says this gentleman, "to criticise one university; one that doesn't know the first arrangements of his own language. The biggest dummy in English versteht that only the ignorantest cockneys give one syllable at the end of a line in poesy and then begin a new line with the rest. Mein Got! was für ein Critiker— ein Esel!"

Of course Canning could never show his face after this. But those who made themselves most ridiculous in criticising and abusing Canning did not in their floundering engulf themselves in so low a depth of "outer darkness" as to make a verb in one sentence and paragraph govern a noun in another sentence and paragraph after the fashion of the learned Stille's "renunciationem nuntiet."

But, hurriedly as our Latin epistle was penned, we used a construction or two in it which we suspected were not very well known at the University of Pennsylvania. Thus we make the partitive complures the subject of a singular verb: we also make it the feminine gender, although one of the nouns to which it refers is neuter. But we need not go beyond American scholars to show that for one form as well as the other we have the best classical authority. Let those who doubt this take up Andrews' and Stoddard's Latin Grammar, turn to Section 209, and see for themselves. There it will be found stated under Remark 12, that "a verb in the singular is often used after several nominatives singular, especially if they denote things without life." This is illustra

ted by two quotations from Cicero. "So also," we read, Note 9, "the compound subject Senatus populusque Romanus (the Senate and Roman people) has always a predicate in the singular." In the same section Livy is quoted to show that plural and singular nouns may be combined, and yet have their verb in the singular. Then we have in Terence such expressions as "Amantium ira amoris integratio est;" in Sallust, such as "Loca quæ proxima Carthageniem Numidia appellatur."

Then as to the gender we have the following: "When substantives denoting living beings are of different genders, the adjective is masculine rather than feminine, and feminine rather than neuter." Again: "When there is a mixture of animate and inanimate objects, the adjective either assumes the gender of the animate object, or is put in the neuter.” This is particularly true of partitives; for we read in the same American authority: "An adjective or adjective-pronoun used partitively (that is, like our complures) stands alone, and commonly takes the gender of the genitive plural which depends upon it, but when it is preceded by a noun of a different gender, to which it refers, it usually takes that gender, but sometimes that of the genitive, as: 'Elephanto belluarum nulla est prudentior,' etc."

In a word, we did not use a single construction in that scrawl which may not be found in the Latin classics of the Golden Age; nay, we can assert without fear of contradiction. that trimestris, which we used as the equivalent of Quarterly, is the only word which is not used in a similar sense by Livy, Cicero, or Sallust; yet it took the learned Provost of the University of Pennsylvania more than two years, from the kalends of November, 1871, to the kalends of January, 1873, to answer it; and even then what a sad mess he makes of it! But he tells us he had excellent reason for the delay-he knew his Latin would be incomprehensible to us. Doubtless we should have mistaken it for Sanscrit or Parsi. Still it could hardly have puzzled us more than his English. But since it has taken the Provost of a University more than two years to answer our Latin letter, one would think that it

would take the President of a similar institution three or four years to do so. It will hardly be believed, then, that there are American presidents who have answered our Latin letters just as promptly as they have our English letters. But in order to prove the fact we need only mention two names-Dr. Elliot of Harvard College, and Dr. White of Cornell University. Doubtless it will seem "incomprehensible" to Provost Stillé that each of these gentlemen replied not only promptly, but courteously and kindly. True, we wrote to each in Latin only because we knew they would have no trouble in replying, and would be rather pleased than otherwise at our doing so; whereas when we wrote to the Provost of the University of Pennsylvania, we confess we had grave doubts whether it was in the power of that learned functionary to reply at all. Now the world can judge with tolerable accuracy how far we were right or wrong in each case.

But another word before we proceed to compare Provost Stille's English epistles with our Latin epistle. The reader has seen how handsomely the Inquirer has introduced the learned Provost armed with our mutilated two-year-old missive. While disclaiming all intention of "calling names," we beg leave to quote in favor of that respectable journal the ancient, though homely adage, "Help the lame dog over the stile." How well it carries out that humane precept will be sufficiently seen from the first paragraph of its commentary following its copy of our "so-called Latin letter." This we quote, only premising that the editor certainly smiled and scratched his head more than once before he printed it:

"It is unfortunate for Dr. Sears, that when he concluded to print his letter to Dr. Stillé, in the Quarterly, he did not print it all, because, though it would have disclosed, to his great disadvantage, his singular motive for attacking Dr Stillé under the too transparent cloak of reforming our venerable University, it would have prevented another from giving it a wider publicity, and thereby demonstrating the dishonesty of the Quarterly's editor." *

*It is a curious fact that about the time we wrote our first letter to the

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