Scholars’ congresses enjoy outside the circles of those who participate in them a quite unjustified reputation for dulness. They have never attracted the attention of novelists. The printed volumes of their proceedings don't look inviting. Participation, even on the fringe as an observer, completely reverses this impression. There is a natural happiness and cordiality amongst men and women who are enjoying a rare opportunity of discussing their special subjects of study with those who are equally interested and competent. There is often more than a glint of passion in argument. There is reversal of roles when great scholars return to the students’ benches to listen to one another—or instead play the truant in order to talk together in cafés. There is intellectual excitement when new views and discoveries are announced. There is the preoccupation with the common cause of enlarging and organising knowledge when pressing practical problems of the particular branch of scholarship are discussed. There is the perpetual conflict between the systematic approach devised by the organisers of the congress and the individual wishes of participants and would-be contributors of papers which fit into no general programme.