But let us postpone _What Is_ for a moment, and deal with _What
Does_ and _What Knows._ They too, of course, have had their
oppositions, and the very meaning of a University such as
Cambridge--its _fons,_ its _origo,_ its [Greek: to ti en einai]--
was to assert _What Knows_ against _What Does_ in a medieval
world pranced over by men-at-arms, Normans, English, Burgundians,
Scots. Ancillary to Theology, which then had a meaning vastly
different from its meaning to-day, the University tended as
portress of the gate of knowledge--of such knowledge as the
Church required, encouraged, or permitted--and kept the flag of
intellectual life, as I may put it, flying above that gate and
over the passing throngs of 'doers' and mailed-fisters. The
University was a Seat of Learning: the Colleges, as they sprang
up, were Houses of Learning.
But note this, which in their origin and still in the frame of
their constitution differentiates Oxford and Cambridge from all
their ancient sisters and rivals. These two (and no third, I
believe, in Europe) were corporations of Teachers, existing for
Teachers, governed by Teachers. In a Scottish University the
students by vote choose their Rector: but here or at Oxford no
undergraduate, no Bachelor, counts at all in the government, both
remaining alike _in statu pupillari_ until qualified as Masters--
_Magistri._ Mark the word, and mark also the title of one who
obtained what in those days would be the highest of degrees (but
yet gave him no voting strength above a Master). He was a
Professor-'Sanctae Theologiae Professor.' To this day every
country clergyman who comes up to Cambridge to record his
_non-placet,_ does so by virtue of his capacity to teach what he
learned here--in theory, that is. Scholars were included in
College foundations on a sort of pupil-teacher-supply system:
living in rooms with the lordly masters, and valeting them for
the privilege of 'reading with' them. We keep to this day the
pleasant old form of words. Now for various reasons--one of
which, because it is closely germane to my subject, I shall
particularly examine--Oxford and Cambridge, while conserving
almost intact their medieval frame of government, with a hundred
other survivals which Time but makes, through endurance, more
endearing, have, insensibly as it were, and across (it must be
confessed) intervals of sloth and gross dereliction of duty,
added a new function to the cultivation of learning--that of
furnishing out of youth a succession of men capable of fulfilling
high offices in Church and State.
Some may regret this. I think many of us must regret that a
deeper tincture of learning is not required of the average
pass-man, or injected into him perforce. But speaking roughly about
fact, I should say that while we elders up here are required--
nay, presumed to _know_ certain things, we aim that our young men
shall be of a certain kind; and I see no cause to disown a
sentence in the very first lecture I had the honour of reading
before you--'The man we are proud to send forth from our Schools
will be remarkable less for something he can take out of his
wallet and exhibit for knowledge, than for _being_ something,
and that something recognisable for a man of unmistakable
intellectual breeding, whose trained judgment we can trust to
choose the better and reject the worse.'
The reasons which have led our older Universities to deflect
their functions (whether for good or ill) so far from their first
purpose are complicated if not many. Once admit young men in
large numbers, and youth (I call any Dean or Tutor to witness)
must be compromised with; will construe the laws of its seniors
in its own way, now and then breaking them; and will inevitably
end, by getting something of its own way.. The growth of
gymnastic, the insensible gravitation of the elderly towards
Fenner's--there to snatch a fearful joy and explain that the walk
was good for them; the Union and other debating societies;
College rivalries; the festivities of May Week; the invasion of
women students: all these may have helped. But I must dwell
discreetly on one compelling and obvious cause--the increased and
increasing unwieldiness of Knowledge. And that is the main
trouble, as I guess.