of an ordeal that he had survived, but as of a refreshing shower. And such delights abound in his teaching career. * * * * * * * * It was the last lecture before his departure for Leyden (in May 1920), where the famous faculty of science, under the auspices of the great physicist Lorentz, had invited him to accept an honorary professorship. This was not the first invitation of this kind, and will not be the last, for distinctions are being showered on him from all parts of the world. It is true that the universities who confer a degree on him _honoris causa_ are conferring a distinction on themselves, but Einstein frankly acknowledges the value of these honours, which he regards as referring only to the question in hand, and not the person. It gives him pleasure on account of the principle involved being recognized, and he regards himself essentially only as one whom fate has ordained as the personal exponent of these principles. What this life of hustle and bustle about a scientist signifies is perhaps more apparent to me, who have a modest share in these conversations, than to Einstein himself, for I am an old man who--unfortunately--have to think back a long way to my student days, and can set up comparisons which are out of reach of Einstein. Formerly, many years ago, but in my own time, there was an _auditorium maximum_ which only one man could manage to fill with an audience, namely, Eugen Dühring, the noted scholar, who was doomed to remain a lecturer inasmuch as he went under in his quarrels with confrères of a higher rank. But before he made his onslaught against Helmholtz, he was regarded as a man of unrivalled magnetic power, for his philosophical and economical lectures gathered together over three hundred hearers, a record number in those times. Nowadays, in the case of Einstein, four times this number has been surpassed, a fact which has brought into circulation the playful saying: One can never miss his auditorium; whither all are hastening, that is the goal! To make just comparisons, we must take account of the faithfulness of the assembled crowd, as well as its number. Many an eminent scholar has in earlier times had reason to declare, like Faust: "I had the power to attract you, yet had no power to hold you." Helmholtz began regularly every term with a crowded lecture-hall, but in a short time he found himself deserted, and he himself was well aware that no magnetic teaching influence emanated from him. There is yet another case in university history of a brilliant personality who, from similar flights of ecstasy, was doomed to disappointment. I must mention his name, which, in this connexion, will probably cause great surprise, namely, Schiller! He had fixed his first lecture in history at Jena, to which he was appointed, and had prepared for an audience of about a hundred students. But crowd upon crowd hustled along, and Schiller, who saw the oncoming stream from his