SPIRIT OF THE UNIVERSITIES.

MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD,

June 22.

WE are already in full fête, and balls, concerts, and other gaieties of Commemoration succeed each other with almost clock-like regularity.. One can predict to a nicety twelvemonths beforehand what will take place between Thursday and Thursday under any but very exceptional circumstances, such for example as the tragic occurrence which caused the abandonment of the Pembroke concert, and the low standard of pure scholarship which deprives the Enconia of two important recitations. As regards the former of these untoward accidents, it is unfortunately by no means a solecism. Ever since the introduction of that most silly as well as dangerous craft, the canoe, upon the Isis, deaths by drowning preserve a fixed average; and it is noteworthy that they mostly happen about Commemoration time. The University, of course, is powerless to prevent its alumni from endangering their lives with almost suicidal recklessness; but public opinion ought to pronounce against canoeing as an exercise, since, independent of its peril, it contracts the chest, and, as a form of exercise, is positively mischievous. I have not Mr.. McLaren's valuable work at hand to refer to; but I believe I am not incorrect in affirming that the greatest living authority on athletics condemns the paddle unequivocally. The other eventuality which has cast a gloom, though of a different quality of course, on the Commemoration, is the announcement of the judges that two of the Chancellor's prizes have not been awarded. This, it is felt, amounts to a serious reflection on the present of a University, which in the past boasted such giants in scholarship as Gaisford and Cardwell, Conington and Roundell Palmer, with a host of others whose names are written in the Anthologia.. It is to be feared that all modern educational tendencies run in the direction of diffuseness, and that in learning more our youth learn less. The fault, however, must be laid at the door, not of Oxford, but of the public schools, which, simultaneously with the establishment of a pedantic system of pronouncing the dead languages, seem to have dispensed with a virtue much regarded in the days of our boyhood, viz., exactitude. The University, I admit, has it in its power to compel the great schools to drill their sixth forms in verse and prose; and I should be glad to hear that Balliol had sent back an entire batch of competitors for her scholarships with a flea in their ear, since the depreciation of Oxford scholarship is tantamount to the degradation of Oxford. Such a drastic remedy, however, is not likely to be applied-comitatis causâ; and the only method of elevating the standard of scholarship which suggests itself is by rendering the classes in moderations a trifle less cheap than they have been of late years. I must not forget, in writing.

for a magazine, to mention that the winner of the Newdigate, Mr. Wilde of this college, has already shown some promise in magazine literature.

A word concerning the Hertford Fellowship litigation. It seems almost a pity that Mr. Baring's liberality did not assume another form. Parliament has, in the exercise of its discretion, abolished tests, and the principles thus insisted on ought to be respected even by those who regret most deeply the loss to the Church of the great prizes of the University. Parliament, however, has not, so far as I am aware, made an enactment against the establishment of denominational colleges; and it is open for any body of religionists to copy the example of the founders of Keble, and endow a college for their church or sect. Had Mr. Baring constituted himself a Wykeham or a Wadham on a small scale, his munificence would have been an heirloom for the Anglican Church. As it is, Hertford by the Liberal party is felt to be an injurious anomaly, and in all probability when next a Liberal majority is returned to St. Stephen's the test wherewith Mr. Baring has loaded his princely benefaction will be abolished. The intention of the Legislature is plain; so also is that of Mr. Baring. When, however, two wills clash, the weaker is certain to go to the wall.

As I write, the list of degrees to be conferred in the theatre on Wednesday next is stated to include the names of Lords Huntington and Napier of Magdala, Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, Mr. Pierrepont the ex-American Minister, Sir Fitzjames Stephen, Mr. Talbot the new M.P., Mr. W. Spottiswoode, and Mr. John Hill Burton. It is quite possible that not all of these eminent individuals will be present; but they have accepted the Vice-Chancellor's invitation, and have doubtless fortified their nerves to endure the blatant badinage of the gallery, which, however, is much softer-toned than of yore. For my own part, I relish a little of the Terræ-Filius element among the gods, and such happy hits as "Non nobis, domine" in reply to the regulation "Placetne vobis, domini doctores, placetne vobis, magistri?" which is put by the Vice-Chancellor before each degree is voted, have their small merit. Neither do I deprecate hearty applause, such as brought the tears into the eyes of Colin Campbell, and quite overwhelmed the Princess of Wales when she appeared as a bride. Sit modus, however, should be the rule, especially in the matter of yelling; and, whilst I should regret an emasculated and Pecksniffian Commemoration, I confess to a hearty dislike of the Zoological style of performance, so suggestive of a cage and feeding

time.

The Philharmonic Society have wisely selected Mr. Randegger's "Fridolin" as the pièce de résistance of their Commemoration Concert. It is not generally known that Mendelssohn's "Edipus" and "Antigone" were first produced in this country by Dr. Corfe at Oxford; and, with the splendid material for a chorus which the University possesses, and the ease wherewith an orchestra can be imported from London, it would appear a sound policy to select entirely new music for such performances as those of the Philharmonic Society. Since Sir Frederick Ouseley's "St. Polycarp" and Dr. Monk's "Bard" no cantata or oratorio of the highest merit has been evolved from Oxford genius; but there is no necessity to confine the area of selection to native talent, and I am certain that Oxford will welcome the tone-poetry of Mr. Randegger as heartily as that of the Professor, or of the organist of York.

The contest for the presidency of the Union was most exciting, and the number of votes recorded for the losing candidate so large that his defeat may be aptly termed a victory. I am ancient enough to remember the society when its habitat was in the rooms over Vincent the bibliopole's shop, and when the debates were held in the auction room of a respectable auctioneer, who, if I mistake not, was the sire of a certain historian of pronounced Liberal views. Since those days the germ has fructified enormously, and the institution bids fair in the long run to equal in importance the richest among our colleges. Assuredly the luxury of its library, as contrasted with the supreme discomfort of the British Museum reading room, affords ample ground for an "odorous" contrast between Oxford and London, slightly to the disadvantage of the latter.

The master of Balliol has been acting the part of host and cicerone to the Empress of the French. "Mild-eyed Arius," as I heard him styled the other day, has a passion for celebrities. He has imported Mr. Robert Browning bodily into Balliol, and has extended the ægis of his civility not only as far as George Eliot, but to Miss Braddon. I have not yet heard of his patronising Miss Rhoda Broughton, whose brother is an old Balliol man; but his friendship for Algernon Swinburne is quite an open secret. Whether his nature assimilates quite as easily with the fourteen bishops who at present are sojourning in Oxford, this deponent sayeth not. Possibly he may be of opinion that even in the matter of lawn sleeves it is possible to have too much of a good thing.

TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,

June 15th.

OUR Regius Professor of Modern History, in an introduction which he wrote some years ago for "The Student's Guide to the University of Cambridge," began by saying that "the object of a student at Cambridge is to obtain one of the degrees which are conferred by that University." The words have a strange ring about them, especially as proceeding from a man who might have been credited with the loftiest ideas possible as to University life and aims. And although, perhaps, comparatively few are induced to become students here by the motives which to those who cherish ideals may seem the highest, it may be said that the mere degree is the inducement of yet fewer. At the present moment, when the academical year is just ending, and the forsaken Colleges suggest the thought of (may the Editors of the Undergraduate's Journal hold me guiltless of plagiarism) "the abomination of desolation," one's mood is naturally meditative. It has, indeed, been a privilege to spend so many happy months in the midst of scenes which cannot but be cheerful and exhilarating. Who that has had the least experience of either of the elder Universities can have failed to observe that they together present in full Term a phenomenon singular in the world? To share for a time the advantages of the unique life here to be lived would be tempting enough to most, quite apart from any hope of being called hereafter a Bachelor or a Master of Arts. It is probable that the greater part of the very large number of men who are quite content with a second class in one of the "Special" examinations for

the ordinary degree, care for that degree mainly because the world outside, which has superstitious notions of the disgrace of being "plucked" as it calls it (we call it "ploughed "), is apt to say queer things about a man who leaves Cambridge without a degree. No doubt it is a misfortune, a very grave misfortune, if any one makes of this University a mere lounge, loves it only as a pleasant club. There are some of whom this is true, but it is their own loss; and the present writer cannot but believe, founding his belief upon personal observation, that the majority of "pollmen" keep before them, with more or less distinctness, throughout their career at Cambridge the honest purpose of using it as a ladder to a higher kind of being than they feel they could have attained to without it. Amongst our second class "pollmen" there are many ornaments of the alma mater-men, who after "going down" do her the greatest credit.

Once upon a time the renown of an eminent teacher could gather students from all parts of Europe to hear him. The presence of such a master was sufficient in itself to create a great school. A John of Salisbury or an Erasmus had such an enthusiasm for learning, that he compassed sea and land to get it at the best fountains. Of course it is trite to say that the development of printing has changed all this. But this is one of those trite remarks that may tend to perpetuate a state of facts which it is not altogether desirable to have perpetuated. No educational machinery has yet been invented which can equal the living voice of a competent and painstaking teacher; and there are not wanting indications that the truth of this is being brought home to our own generation as forcibly as ever in the past. The scheme of University Extension, which has already had such great results in the north of England, is an endeavour to rally learners round working teachers, and thus to do what books could never do. And what is the raison d'être of the University Commissions but to remodel the arrangements here and at Oxford, so that we may get rid of the consequences of a long refusal to recognise a very simple truth? We are crying out for a body of persons who shall throw their energies into the personal training of scholars. It is a miserable thing to attend a lecture, one of a Term's course of half-a-dozen perhaps, read for mere form's sake to almost empty benches.

As a matter of fact, indeed, things are far from being in so bad a state in this respect as they are often represented. If the whole truth be told, there is at Cambridge a very great deal of the highest kind of instruction, and (pace Professor Seeley) ardour for learning in itself, apart from its academical rewards, is with not a few the "object" of their study at Cambridge. But I must not lay myself open to the charge of wilfully or otherwise misunderstanding the Professor's words. We may be sure that he who is one of the most eminent examples of the true teacher, who labours earnestly to excite in his pupils disinterested love of scholarship, and who has been known to express regret that he sought honours in classics, albeit he was bracketed senior, and owes to that lofty place so many of his after successes; we may be quite sure that he could not have meant to hold up the degree as the one end of University life. And it should be recorded that, in order to come into closer relations with the undergraduates than would be possible in his public lectures alone, he has for some years taken a "conversation class " at his own rooms.

At the concluding lecture of his last public course I was fortunately