one's room" is the only system of washing. Perhaps this instance may be thought frivolous, but it is typical of Oxford, which has been described, with some exaggeration in both words, as a home of "barbaric luxury."

But after all, comfort in the material sense is the least important element in completeness of life. Oxford has everything else, except, it is true, a bracing climate. She has society of every kind, in which a man ranks on his merits, not on his possessions; he is valued for what he is, not for what he has; she gives freedom to her sons to live their own life, with just sufficient restraint to add piquancy to freedom, and to restrain those excesses which are fatal to it; she has intellectual interests and traditions, which often really affect men who seem indifferent to them; life in her, as a rule, is not troubled by financial cares—for her young men, most of them, either through old endowments or from family circumstances, have for the moment enough of this world's goods. In view of all this, and much more, is it not natural that Oxford has a charm for her sons? And this is enhanced with many by all the force of hereditary tradition; the young man is at his college because his father was there before him; the pleasure of each generation is increased by the reflection of the other's pleasure. What traditional feeling in Oxford means may, perhaps, be illustrated by the story of an old English worthy, though one only of the second rank. Jonathan Trelawney, one of the Seven Bishops who defied James II, was a stout Whig, but when it was proposed to punish Oxford for her devotion to the Pretender, the Government found they could not reckon on his vote, though he was usually a safe party man. "I must be excused from giving my vote for altering the methods of election into Christ Church, where I had my bread for twenty years. I would rather see my son a link boy than a student of Christ Church in such a manner as tears up by the roots that constitution."

But the days of hereditary tradition are over, and Trelawney belongs to an age long past; Oxford now is exposed to an influence compared to which the arbitrary proceedings of a king are feeble. A democratic Parliament with a growing Labour party has far more power to change Oxford than the Stuarts ever had, and even at this moment (1919) a third Royal Commission is beginning to sit. Will it modify, will it—transform Oxford?

The first answer seems to be that the very stones of Oxford are charged with her traditions. During the War the colleges have been full of officer-cadets; they were men of all ranks of life and of every kind of education; they came from all parts of the world; they were of all ages, from eighteen to forty, at least. Their training was a strenuous one by strict rule, a complete contrast to the free and easy life of academic Oxford. Yet in their few months of residence, most of them became imbued with the college spirit; they considered themselves members of the place they lived in; they tried to do most of the things undergraduates do. If Oxford thus, to some extent, moulded to her pattern men who, welcome as they were, were only accidental, surely the college spirit may be trusted to assimilate whatever material the changed conditions of social or of political life furnish to it. The hope of many at Oxford is that there will be a great development and a great change. On one side it will be good if Oxford becomes to a much greater extent not only an all-British, but also a world university; on another side it is to be hoped that far more than ever before men of all classes in England will come to Oxford. It would surprise many of the University's critics to find how much had already been done in these directions. It is certainly not true now that, as one of Oxford's critics wrote,

On the contrary, the Oxford of the last generation has already become markedly more cosmopolitan, and she has been drawing to her an ever-increasing number of able men of every class.

But these developments, thus begun, will certainly be carried much further in the near future. Oxford will be altered. Some of her customs will be changed. This may well issue in great and lasting good, though there will be loss as well as gain. But an Oxford man may be pardoned if he believes and hopes that his university will remain the university he has loved. There is a saying current in Oxford about Oxford men, which may not be out of place here—"If you meet a stranger, and if after a time you say to him, 'I think you were at Oxford,' he accepts it, as a matter of course, and is pleased. If you do the same to a Cambridge man, he indignantly replies, 'How do you know that?'" No doubt the saying is turned the other way round at Cambridge, and no doubt it is equally true and equally false of both universities, i.e. it is positively true and negatively false, like so many other statements. But it is positively true; the Oxford man is proud of having been at Oxford; the past and the present alike, his political and his religious beliefs, his traditions and his social surroundings, all endear Oxford to him. May it ever be so.

RADCLIFFE SQUARE

Plate III. View of Radcliffe Square

The visitor to Oxford often asks—"Where is the University?" The proper answer is: "The University is everywhere," for the colleges are all parts of it. But if a distinction must be made, and some buildings must be shown which are especially "University Buildings," then it is undoubtedly in the Square, of which this picture shows one side, that they must be found. Immediately on the right is the Bodleian Library, the domed building in the centre is the Radcliffe Library, and in the background rises the spire of St. Mary's. Of this last building the tower and spire go back nearly to the beginnings of Oxford; they date from the time of Edward I; but for a century, at least, before they were erected, the students of Oxford had met for worship and for business in the earlier church, which stood on the site of the present St. Mary's.

The Bodleian Library occupies the old Examination Schools, which were built, in the reign of James I, for the reformed University of Archbishop Laud; within the memory of men who do not count themselves old, the university examinations were still held in this building. Finally, the shapely dome between the Bodleian and St. Mary's is the work of James Gibbs, the greatest English architect of the eighteenth century, to whom Cambridge owes its Senate House) and London the noble church of St. Martin's in the Fields. The dome was built for a separate library, the foundation of Dr. John Radcliffe, Queen Anne's physician, the most munificent of Oxford benefactors; it is still managed by his trustees, a body independent of the University, but since 1861 they have lent it to the Bodleian Library for a reading-room. It is fitting that the oldest public library in the modern world, a title the Bodleian can proudly claim, should have the finest reading-room, where 400 students can have each his separate desk, and where, if so minded and so physically enduring, they can put in twelve hours' work in a day. No other great library in Europe allows such privileges.

Round these three University buildings are grouped three colleges: Hertford, the youngest of Oxford foundations, the re-creation of an old hall by