Chapter III: At the University of Cambridge

The University of Cambridge having under comparatively recent regulations given archæology a definitely-recognized position among the subjects for the Classical Tripos examination, has now advanced another important step by establishing a suitable home for classical studies, and under the same roof has provided a home for the antiquarian and ethnological collections of the University. For the past eleven years classical archæology has been systematically taught, but what was previously carried on under difficulties has been since 1884 pursued under advantageous circumstances. New buildings were formally opened May 6, 1884, by the Vice-Chancellor. Brief addresses were made by the Vice-Chancellor and Prof. Colvin. Mr. LOWELL then said:

He also regretted with the Vice-Chancellor, both on his
own account and on theirs, the absence of the French
Ambassador, who could have spoken on archæological subjects
from the position of a master. He had been asked to say a
few words, and with sincerity he could say that it always
gave him great pleasure to be the herald that brought to
the old home a message from the new. That scarlet gown,
which had suddenly converted him into a flaming minister
(_laughter_), reminded him that Cambridge had adopted him
as one of her children. (_Cheers._) He therefore felt
charged to bring a message from the new Cambridge in
the New World--a message of filial respect--to the old
Cambridge in the Old World. There was also a propriety in
his being there, from the fact that a great deal of the
interest which had been felt in this undertaking had been
stimulated by the lectures and the labors of a countryman
of his own. Having said this, he might naturally be
expected to take his seat, but he knew he was not expected
to do so. He was compelled, like the Ancient Mariner, to
go on with his story, whether he would or not. He often
thought of the African and the monkey. The African had a
notion that the monkey could speak if he would, but that
he would not let anybody know he could, for fear he should
be made to work. Now, he had to acknowledge a sort of
prophylactic taciturnity. He had only one word which had
some bearing on the subject. He was exceedingly interested
in going through the museum, under the able guidance of
Professor Colvin. The whole arrangement of it interested
him. Each cast, almost from the rude fetish to the highest
conception of the human brain and the human hand, was very
striking. It was more than striking; it was most hopeful
and encouraging. As he walked through the museum he could
not help remembering that 60 years ago he saw in the museum
at Boston some casts from the antique, and the ignorant
delight which they first gave to his eye; he remembered
also the education they gave to his eye as he grew older,
and he should never forget that debt. These impressions
were of greater value and much more operative when made
early. He was struck, in going through the museum with
Professor Colvin, with the vital relation between æsthetic
archæology (if they would allow him to call it so), as
represented in the museum, and Greek literature. It seemed
to him that what one felt always when brought into contact
with the work of Grecian hands or the production of the
Grecian brain was its powerful vitality. By powerful
vitality he did not mean merely the life in itself, but the
vitality which it communicated. Here, it seemed to him,
was the great value of being brought into more intimate
relation with the Greeks. When he was looking that morning
on the statue of Nikê, the original of which stands at
the head of the great staircase in the Louvre, it seemed
to him that it ought to be the figure of one who stood on
the prow of the ship which brought the news of the victory
of Salamis. It was not by any means certain, mixed race
that we were, that the existence of a museum like that at
Cambridge would not stir in some one an ancestral vigor,
some hereditary quality or faculty that should make him
into an artist.

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