In the somewhat unusual situation of a mathematician invited to address a Classical Society, there is one question which I am forced to put to myself. Can anything of interest to present-day students of the Classics survive from a modest Classical course taken over forty years ago, and followed by a lifetime of activity in a very different academical groove? Any slight merit which the following remarks may possess will arise from their character as a personal testimony.

I begin by putting a question to you. What influences led you to take up a course in Classics at college? I can imagine many possible contributory causes: the accident of the particular school you attended, high success in your School Certificate Examination, a real pleasure in getting up the rudiments of Latin or Greek grammar; or a teacher who bound you with a spell and gave you glimpses of romance. Whatever the cause, you have made the choice, and, like all choices, it imposes a limitation. To some extent, and at least for a time, you are debarred from specializing in some other subject: Philosophy or Modern Languages, Physics or Biology. You are approaching the vast unity of human knowledge and achievement from a specific angle, and along a very definite path.

Pascal, the great literary, scientific, and religious genius of seventeenth-century France, has a fine saying: ‘The whole succession of men through the ages should be considered as one man, ever living and always learning.’ The unity of human knowledge and achievement cannot be broken up without serious loss.