allowed him to learn.
But at Gottingen
he was made to understand the difference between reciting to a man and being taught by him. Here he took lessons in Greek
, for instance, of a scholar who had not only learned Greek
thoroughly, but had also learned the art of teaching it. The delight he took in his new charters and privileges was in proportion to his ardent love of knowledge and his previous imperfect opportunities for gratifying it.
Another source of happiness, as well as of intellectual growth, was opened to him at Gottingen
in its magnificent library of over two hundred thousand volumes, especially rich in modern literature, and adminstered so liberally that any number of books might be taken from it and kept as long as the student had any need of them.
This immense treasury of knowledge was all the more impressive and the more welcome from its contrast with the meagre collections he had left at home.1
Every student knows what a pleasure it is to be able to lay his hands on every book he wants when he is studying a subject, as well as the exaggerated value he will put upon the particular book he cannot find.
Here our ardent young scholar could be sure of lighting upon every book of which he had even ever heard; and the delight with which his eye ran along the endless shelves of the University
library was only tempered by the sigh called forth by the thought of the disproportion between these boundless stores of knowledge and the length of any human life, or the measure of any human powers.
's enjoyment of the new and copious sources of knowledge which were now opened to him, and his sense of the intellectual growth derived from them, were alloyed both by the painful comparison he was forced to make between what he found in Gottingen
and what he had left at home, and the sad thought of how much more he might have done and known if,