When　I　go　to　my　own　entrance　the　door　is　flung　wide　open；　and　I　am　met　by　my　colleague；　contemporary；　and　namesake；　the　porter　Nikolay。　As　he　lets　me　in　he　clears　his　throat　and　says：
  〃A　frost；　your　Excellency！〃
  Or；　if　my　great…coat　is　wet：
  〃Rain；　your　Excellency！〃
  Then　he　runs　on　ahead　of　me　and　opens　all　the　doors　on　my　way。　In　my　study　he　carefully　takes　off　my　fur　coat；　and　while　doing　so　manages　to　tell　me　some　bit　of　University　news。　Thanks　to　the　close　intimacy　existing　between　all　the　University　porters　and　beadles；　he　knows　everything　that　goes　on　in　the　four　faculties；　in　the　office；　in　the　rector's　private　room；　in　the　library。　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　that　he　was　a　learned　man　disguised　as　a　soldier。　And；　by　the　way；　the　rumours　of　the　erudition　of　the　University　porters　are　greatly　exaggerated。　It　is　true　that　Nikolay　knows　more　than　a　hundred　Latin　words；　knows　how　to　put　the　skeleton　together；　sometimes　prepares　the　apparatus　and　amuses　the　students　by　some　long；　learned　quotation；　but　the　by　no　means　complicated　theory　of　the　circulation　of　the　blood；　for　instance；　is　as　much　a　mystery　to　him　now　as　it　was　twenty　years　ago。
  At　the　table　in　my　study；　bending　low　over　some　book　or　preparation；　sits　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch；　my　demonstrator；　a　modest　and　industrious　but　by　no　means　clever　man　of　five…and…thirty；　already　bald　and　corpulent；　he　works　from　morning　to　night；　reads　a　lot；　remembers　well　everything　he　has　read　　and　in　that　way　he　is　not　a　man；　but　pure　gold；　in　all　else　he　is　a　carthorse　or；　in　other　words；　a　learned　dullard。　The　carthorse　characteristics　that　show　his　lack　of　talent　are　these：　his　outlook　is　narrow　and　sharply　limited　by　his　specialty；　outside　his　special　branch　he　is　simple　as　a　child。
  〃Fancy！　what　a　misfortune！　They　say　Skobelev　is　dead。〃
  Nikolay　crosses　himself；　but　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch　turns　to　me　and　asks：
  〃What　Skobelev　is　that？〃
  Another　time　　somewhat　earlier　　I　told　him　that　Professor　Perov　was　dead。　Good　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch　asked：
  〃What　did　he　lecture　on？〃
  I　believe　if　Patti　had　sung　in　his　very　ear；　if　a　horde　of　Chinese　had　invaded　Russia；　if　there　had　been　an　earthquake；　he　would　not　have　stirred　a　limb；　but　screwing　up　his　eye；　would　have　gone　on　calmly　looking　through　his　microscope。　What　is　he　to　Hecuba　or　Hecuba　to　him；　in　fact？　I　would　give　a　good　deal　to　see　how　this　dry　stick　sleeps　with　his　wife　at　night。
  Another　characteristic　is　his　fanatical　faith　in　the　infallibility　of　science；　and；　above　all；　of　everything　written　by　the　Germans。　He　believes　in　himself；　in　his　preparations；　knows　the　object　of　life；　and　knows　nothing　of　the　doubts　and　disappointments　that　turn　the　hair　o　f　talent　grey。　He　has　a　slavish　reverence　for　authorities　and　a　complete　lack　of　any　desire　for　independent　thought。　To　change　his　convictions　is　difficult；　to　argue　with　him　impossible。　How　is　one　to　argue　with　a　man　who　is　firmly　persuaded　that　medicine　is　the　finest　of　sciences；　that　doctors　are　the　best　of　men；　and　that　the　traditions　of　the　medical　profession　are　superior　to　those　of　any　other？　Of　the　evil　past　of　medicine　only　one　tradition　has　been　preserved　　the　white　tie　still　worn　by　doctors；　for　a　learned　　in　fact；　for　any　educated　man　the　only　traditions　that　can　exist　are　those　of　the　University　as　a　whole；　with　no　distinction　between　medicine；　law；　etc。　But　it　would　be　hard　for　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch　to　accept　these　facts；　and　he　is　ready　to　argue　with　you　till　the　day　of　judgment。
  I　have　a　clear　picture　in　my　mind　of　his　future。　In　the　course　of　his　life　he　will　prepare　many　hundreds　of　chemicals　of　exceptional　purity；　he　will　write　a　number　of　dry　and　very　accurate　memoranda；　will　make　some　dozen　conscientious　translations；　but　he　won't　do　anything　striking。　To　do　that　one　must　have　imagination；　inventiveness；　the　gift　of　insight；　and　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch　has　nothing　of　the　kind。　In　short；　he　is　not　a　master　in　science；　but　a　journeyman。
  Pyotr　Ignatyevitch；　Nikolay；　and　I；　talk　in　subdued　tones。　We　are　not　quite　ourselves。　There　is　always　a　peculiar　feeling　when　one　hears　through　the　doors　a　murmur　as　of　the　sea　from　the　lecture…theatre。　In　the　course　of　thirty　years　I　have　not　grown　accustomed　to　this　feeling；　and　I　experience　it　every　morning。　I　nervously　button　up　my　coat；　ask　Nikolay　unnecessary　questions；　lose　my　temper。　。　。　。　It　is　just　as　though　I　were　frightened；　it　is　not　timidity；　though；　but　something　different　which　I　can　neither　describe　nor　find　a　name　for。
  Quite　unnecessarily；　I　look　at　my　watch　and　say：　〃Well；　it's　time　to　go　in。〃
  And　we　march　into　the　room　in　the　following　order：　foremost　goes　Nikolay；　with　the　chemicals　and　apparatus　or　with　a　chart；　after　him　I　come；　and　then　the　carthorse　follows　humbly；　with　hanging　head；　or；　when　necessary；　a　dead　body　is　carried　in　first　on　a　stretcher；　followed　by　Nikolay；　and　so　on。　On　my　entrance　the　students　all　stand　up；　then　they　sit　down；　and　the　sound　as　of　the　sea　is　suddenly　hushed。　Stillness　reigns。
  I　know　what　I　am　going　to　lecture　about；　but　I　don't　know　how　I　am　going　to　lecture；　where　I　am　going　to　begin　or　with　what　I　am　going　to　end。　I　haven't　a　single　sentence　ready　in　my　head。　But　I　have　only　to　look　round　the　lecture…hall　（it　is　built　in　the　form　of　an　amphitheatre）　and　utter　the　stereotyped　phrase；　〃Last　lecture　we　stopped　at　。　。　。〃　when　sentences　spring　up　from　my　soul　in　a　long　string；　and　I　am　carried　away　by　my　own　eloquence。　I　speak　with　irresistible　rapidity　and　passion；　and　it　seems　as　though　there　were　no　force　which　could　check　the　flow　of　my　words。　To　lecture　well　　that　is；　with　profit　to　the　listeners　and　without　boring　them　　one　must　have；　besides　talent；　experience　and　a　special　knack；　one　must　possess　a　clear　conception　of　one's　own　powers；　of　the　audience　to　which　one　is　lecturing；　and　of　the　subject　of　one's　lecture。　Moreover；　one　must　be　a　man　who　knows　what　he　is　doing；　one　must　keep　a　sharp　lookout；　and　not　for　one　second　lose　sight　of　what　lies　before　one。
  A　good　conductor；　interpreting　the　thought　of　the　composer；　does　twenty　things　at　once：　reads　the　score；　waves　his　baton；　watches　the　singer；　makes　a　motion　sideways；　first　to　the　drum　then　to　the　wind…instruments；　and　so　on。　I　do　just　the　same　when　I　lecture。　Before　me　a　hundred　and　fifty　faces；　all　unlike　one　another；　three　hundred　eyes　all　looking　straight　into　my　face。　My　object　is　to　dominate　this　many…headed　monster。　If　every　moment　as　I　lecture　I　have　a　clear　vision　of　the　degree　of　its　attention　and　its　power　of　comprehension；　it　is　in　my　power。　The　other　foe　I　have　to　overcome　is　in　myself。　It　is　the　infinite　variety　of　forms；　phenomena；　laws；　and　the　multitude　of　ideas　of　my　own　and　other　people's　conditioned　by　them。　Every　moment　I　must　have　the　skill　to　snatch　out　of　that　vast　mass　of　material　what　is　mos