Fragment: Lonely? Not a bit of it!

Fragment from: Fairclough, Henry Rushton. Warming Both Hands: The Autobiography of Henry Rushton Fairclough Including His Experiences under the American Red Cross in Switzerland and Montenegro. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1941.

 It was a good many years after our first meeting that I had the honor of appearing on the same platform with Dr. Breasted.  This was in St. Louis in 1916, on the occasion of the annual  banquet of the Archaeological Institute of America. Chicago's great Hellenist, Paul Shorey, had returned from California, and on his way East had prepared for this event an address on "The Loneliness of the Scholar." The tone was distinctly morbid, but we auditors were hardly prepared for the heat shown by Dr. Breasted, who as next speaker denounced his colleague's views with all the fire of a Hebrew prophet. "I suppose," he said, "that there are not half a dozen men in this country working along the same lines as I do. But am I lonely? Not a bit of it. If I can dig out a scrap of fresh knowledge to give to the school-children of America, I am as happy as a king."

p. 198-199

Fragment: I was in despair

Fragment from: Wilson, John A. Thousands of Years: An Archaeologist’s Search for Ancient Egypt. New York: Scribner, 1972.

Sprengling knew that he would be out of the country at the time of my oral examination in later May 1926. He told me not to worry about any testing of my ability in Classical Arabic as he had been satisfied with my performance in class. So I dropped that field out of my consideration and I boned up assiduously on other subjects. The examination itself dragged on for three hours. For well over two hours Breasted  took me over the hurdles in hieroglyphic, hieratic, and history. The rest of the department sat back in boredom. Since Breasted's current interests were pretty well known, that long grind went off satisfactorily. Then he turned me over to the other examiners. There were a few desultory questions, and my answers were less precise because I was rather weary by that time.  Then Breasted announced that, since the examiner in Arabic was not present, he himself would set some questions. The shock of that unexpected attack emptied my brain. Not only could I not translate the Arabic, I could not even pronounce it. It was a sorry performance.

At long last I was excused and went outside into the museum to wait for the examining committee to make its decision. I was in despair. How could they pass me after such a collapse? The wait seemed interminable. Finally the secretary of the Department, George Allen, came out to summon me. In his characteristically cautious way he told me first that they had been disappointed. Then he went on to elaborate: instead of passing me summa cum laude, they have been forced to pass me only magna cum laude.

page 46.