KNOWING AND ACTING
It is usually thought to be the first duty of the new holder of a University Chair to recall the memory of his predecessors, and perhaps to attempt some appreciation of their work. But in the present case this is unnecessary. The memory of my predecessors is yet fresh and green in the recollection of the University. I know of some still with us who were present at Dean Mansel's inaugural lecture; I might myself—though to my loss I did not—have attended the lectures of Chandler, and their successor is, most happily, still present and active among us. To an Oxford audience of 1910 no words of mine are required to recall the wit of Mansel or the erudition of Chandler, still less the personality of my immediate predecessor. I am deeply sensible of the honour and the responsibility of succession to such distinguished thinkers and scholars. I ask leave to pass from this topic, and to auspicate my tenure of office by commemorating two among the illustrious and beloved dead who have adorned and enlightened this University, and to whom as teachers, colleagues, and friends, I, like so many others, owe an unrepayable debt. Not that their memory either stands the least in need of revival or reminder, but I would fain seize this opportunity to recall their names in gratitude and piety. Of each I will speak briefly and in words not my own, of my College Tutor, Richard Lewis Nettleship, in the words which his friend wrote for his epitaph in the College Chapel, 'He loved great things and thought
