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chair of Moral Philosophy had been fifty-two years in existence, when the electors (four heads of colleges and the proctors) turned it into a sinecure, to be held by one of themselves, and this practice actually lasted till 1829. Four other chairs, depending on University payments, were extinguished altogether, at what precise date we know not, apparently because the faculty to which they belonged, that of arts, was thought to be sufficiently provided for by college teaching. A satirical work, published in 1721, speaks of the chairs which were allowed to exist as habitually filled by persons utterly incompetent; and though we cannot tell how far to believe its details, something of the kind must be supposed to have taken place in order to account for the discredit into which the Professoriate fell, and from which it can scarcely be said to have recovered. The liberty of the regents to lecture of course very soon became a dead letter, easy as it must have been for the heads of colleges to throw impediments in the way of the performance of that which they could not formally prohibit. Everything in short gave way to the collegiate interest, which, hampered in almost every instance by statutes restricting the choice of Fellows, could not in the nature of things provide good instruction. The colleges seem to have kept up their numbers, as the habits of English society were decidedly favourable to their existence as places of sojourn, if not of study, for noblemen, gentlemen, and professional men, especially the clergy. But learning could not be expected to flourish, nor is it to be wondered at that so few names appear to reflect real credit on their University. The University indeed existed only in name; it was supposed to confer degrees, but its convocations were almost monopolized by the Fellows of Colleges, who were almost the only members having any inducement to reside. No victory could be more complete, so far as material considerations went. All the resources of Oxford had been drawn off from their old channel, and thrown into the artificial reservoir. But the triumph was of a very different kind from the prospect which may possibly have stimulated the ambition of Wykeham, Waynflete, or Wolsey. The colleges still continued nominally bound by their inviolable statutes; but they had contrived to shift some of the fetters and let others drop into disuse. Had this relief been sought with reference to the spiritual interests which were their original care, or to the educational duties which they had since taken on themselves, the expedient might have been excused or even applauded; but we can scarcely do otherwise than condemn when we find bodies so lofty in their pretensions breaking rules merely for the sake of social convenience. If they were still the bulwark of the Church, it was because the spirit of the Church had been changed since

they were first framed to support it. If they were the seats of learning, it was because the enthusiasm and devoted industry which once thronged the University were no longer to be seen. The most fervid and far-seeing ascetic, and the coldest and most cultivated intellect, alike tried Oxford and found it uncongenial. The cloisters of Lincoln College witnessed, but did not cherish, the growth of Wesley's religion. Magdalen cannot boast of having stimulated the thoughts of Gibbon by its society, or of having increased the value of his researches by its literary stores.

The nineteenth century has, we trust, been one of steady and uniform improvement in almost all respects, at least within the limits of Great Britain; and the English Universities, though gradually becoming more and more isolated from the rest of English life, have not been exempt from the beneficial contagion. Previous to 1801 Oxford possessed very scanty means of testing or rewarding the proficiency of its students. The ordinary examination for the first degree, even if Lord Eldon's account of it has been overcharged, must have been sufficiently tame, neither formidable nor honourable; and the election to fellowships, independently of statutable restrictions, seems at best to have depended more on the general opinion of the College authorities than on any tangible evidence of intellectual fitness. During the last thirty years of the eighteenth century, there were regular prizes in English and Latin verse, and in English prose, open to University competition among the junior members, whose powers of composition had hitherto been elicited by more private inducements and on less stated occasions; but these optional trials of literary ability were but a poor compensation for the absence of a more universal ordeal, made binding on all, because pre-supposing qualifications which all ought to possess. In 1801 an honorary examination was introduced, and its scope has since been greatly enlarged by subsequent statutes, the ordinary examination being, at the same time, raised to a somewhat higher level. Cambridge had already set a good example, by the institution of a general mathematical examination, and of prizes for classical knowledge. These are further to be remarked as constitutional changes, tending to bring the University a little more into sight. The colleges, of course, were still all powerful; students were prepared by tutors and examined by tutors; but it was something to have stopped there, when a step further would have allowed each society to qualify its members for a University degree by a separate examination. That the University should be recognised by one of its ablest apologists, Dr. Copleston, in his "Reply to the Calumnies of the Edinburgh Review," as simply "a congeries of foundations," was no more than was to be expected, startling as it may be to find the essence

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of the original system so completely effaced not only from existence, but from historical recollection, by the intrusive collegiate element. It was something for the University to be recognised at all, as the real fountain of academical honour, not merely as the nominal dispenser of factitious privileges secured by Acts of Parliament. Even among the few who yearly arrive at the highest distinction, there may be none who equal the ancient graduates in positive attainments, still less in the proportion of their knowledge to that of their generation. But it is an infinite advance on a century when the chief test of youthful excellence was the applause of a common room, and when the most promising scholars won their spurs by writing Carmina Quadragesimalia and panegyrics on Oxford ale.

The last twenty years, so fruitful in the discussion of questions relating to the higher education, have not been without their effect on the two English Universities. When everything else was being reformed, University reform soon began to be talked about as a possible thing. The Edinburgh Review, which had previously attacked Oxford as out of keeping with the spirit of the time, now dealt a severer blow by a most elaborate and searching appeal to the past, to which many of our facts are due, and no Copleston was found this time to volunteer a defence. In 1834 the Reformed House of Commons passed a bill opening Oxford and Cambridge to Dissenters, with the concurrence, we may remark, of Lord Stanley: the Lords, however, were able to reject it, and it was never pressed again.

These demonstrations, grounded as much on the actual inefficiency of the Universities as on any objection to their constitution, have undoubtedly produced a salutary alarm among the academical public, and some reform in their government and course of instruction. The examinations have been improved once and again; the last alterations, by which physics and modern history were added to the curriculum, having only just received their completion at Oxford, while in Cambridge they are not yet two years old. The Professorships have also shown some signs of revival. The Oxford chair of Moral Philosophy, as we observed a page or two back, was rescued in 1829 from the disgraceful abuse of more than 150 years, and since that time it has, with one or two exceptions, been very effectively filled. A prelectorship of logic-a restoration, we presume, of one of the suppressed chairs-was founded in 1839 with similar success. The various divinity professorships are made useful, if not interesting, by the patronage of the bishops, who make attendance on some one or other of the courses of lectures compulsory on candidates for orders. But the greatest triumphs of the professorial system have been gained in a field which has hitherto been free from

college competition, not having been included till the other day in the academical course, and where, consequently, the attendance of students can proceed from nothing but interest in the subject and admiration of the lecturer. In 1841, by the death of Dr. Nares, the historian whose ponderable quartos have amused the public, not in themselves, but through the medium of Mr. Macaulay's notice, the chair of Modern History was released, and Lord Melbourne's Government were enabled to make a present of Dr. Arnold's abilities to the Oxford world. The effect was instantaneous residents of all grades crowded to the lectures to hear a review of the progress of modern Europe with its various problems, moral, political, and social, from one who enjoyed all the prestige of being a formidable opponent to the prevailing spirit of the place. The creator of this enthusiasm was, we need not say, withdrawn before his influence had lost the charm of novelty and his mantle did not fall on his successor, whose popularity was neither temporary nor permanent. Two years ago, however, the chair again became vacant, and the Whigs had another opportunity of showing themselves the truest friends of the University. The new Professor delivered two inaugural lectures in the autumn of last year: their reception, we are told, was only second to that given to Dr. Arnold's; and a perusal of them inspires us with the highest respect not only for the author, (whose scientific grasp of his subject is at least equal to Mr. Mill's theory, or Mr. Grote's practice,) but in some degree for the audience which could be supposed capable of appreciating them. As to the colleges, they have neither sought nor obtained any relief from their foundation statutes; but in some cases they have shown a disposition to interpret them liberally, so as to infringe on county monopolies. The imperfections of the tutorial staff have been further supplied by another expedient, which ought to have been mentioned in the preceding paragraph, as it must clearly have come in with the introduction of the public examinations. students are left free to choose private tutors in any subject for which they may think extra preparation required; and as this is a matter of their own personal expenditure, their choice is not necessarily confined to their own college, any resident may act as private tutor; but, practically, the office is performed by the younger graduates, who are not preoccupied by any more regular employment. As Mr. Malden remarks, it is a curious approximation to the old principle of voluntary regency. The phenomenon is already felt as an important one for good or for evil, as the character of the examinations is at this moment determined by private even more than by public tuition, owing to the greater speciality of the former, which studies the require ments of the schools, and establishes a rule for them in its turn,

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Some attention also has lately been directed to the possibility of reforming the habits of the students, especially with reference to expense. The insolvency courts have lately had too many instances of undergraduate extravagance under their cognizance to escape the notice of the public, or of those who, in spite of their professed independence, cannot afford wholly to disregard public opinion. Cambridge, which, in respect of resuscitated professorships and the spread of private tuition has had much the same experience as Oxford, some time since anticipated this complaint by separating the office of College lecturer from that of tutor, who is the superintendent of his pupils in general rather than in intellectual matters, and to a certain extent communicates between them and their tradesmen. Altogether we may say that the two Universities are showing some anxiety, if not to recover the position which they once held, at least to use their present opportunities properly, and to preserve the influence which may happen to be yet within their reach.

Such, as far as it can be represented in a cursory and imperfect sketch, is the past and present history of those institutions which Lord John Russell has at last thought worthy of Government inquiry. With whatever weariness our readers may have followed us, they will, we think, acknowledge that we have been right in introducing the question of University reform by a historical survey. Considerations of justice and expediency, which appear doubtful on a simple view of the case as it stands in 1850, become much clearer to those who look at it as it has stood at different points of its progress since 1201. Meantime, before we draw our own inferences, we will glance at the spirit in which the announcement of a Commission has been received by the Universities themselves.

In a body of cultivated men the proverb, Quot homines tot sententiæ, is always sure to hold good more or less. Even the political world is occasionally, as at this time, impatient of classification, in spite of the premium on combination offered by the system of party government. The circumstances of the Universities, where the constitution has long been fixed, and all organic change tabooed as utopian, have hitherto been peculiarly unfavourable to the growth of any definite opinion among their members. The prospect of a new era finds them as completely at sea as the Germans were when the late revolution broke out, or as the Church of England would be if, on waking some fine morning, it were to hear that the State had dissolved their connexion. The theological ferment of the last few years being more than speculative in its results, and indeed only too fruitful in partizanship, has done something to determine men's views on kindred subjects; and the declaration of Lord John