is not dead. Only a few decades have passed — a mere fraction of her lifetime — since she was free from the oppression of grammar-school studies, and sent forth Robert Boyle and Christopher Wren to establish the new philosophy of the invisible college in London. She seems, to some of us, to have been used not quite wisely, perhaps not quite fairly, in the brief period which has elapsed since that time. Why should she not shake herself free again, and give, hereafter, most, if not the whole, of her wealth and strength to the urgent work which is actually pursued in every other university of the world as a chief aim and duty?
The fact that Oxford attracts the youth of the country to her, and so determines the education offered in the great schools, is a sufficient answer to those who wish to perpetuate the present employment of her resources in the subvention and encouragement of comparatively unimportant, though fascinating (even too fascinating), studies, to the neglect of the pressing necessary knowledge of nature. Those who enjoy great influence in the affairs of the university tell us with pride that Oxford not only determines what our best schools shall teach, but has, as a main preoccupation, the education of statesmen, pro-consuls, leaders of the learned professions, and members of parliament! Undoubtedly this claim is well-founded, and its truth is the reason why we can not be content with the maintenance by the university of the compulsory study of Greek and Latin, and the neglect to make the study of nature an integral and predominant part of every man's education.
To return to my original contention — the knowledge and control of nature is man's destiny and his greatest need. To enable future leaders of the community to comprehend this, to perceive what the knowledge and control of nature are, and what are the steps by which they are gained and increased, is the duty of a great university. To neglect this is to retard the approach of well-being and happiness, and to injure humanity.
I beg, finally, for toleration from those who do not share my opinions. I am well aware that they are open to the objection that they partake more of the nature of dreams of the future than of practical proposals. That, perhaps, may be accepted as my excuse for indulging in them on such an occasion as the present. There are, and always have been, dreamers in Oxford, and beautiful dreams they have dreamed — some of the past, and some of the future. The most fascinating dreams are not, unfortunately, always realized; but it is sometimes worth while to tell one's dream, for that may bring it a step nearer to 'coming true.'
