* * * * * * *
As to the exact time when a band of scholars and teachers first made
their home in Cambridge or Oxford, and began to attract to themselves
from the four winds classes of eager youths hungry for intellectual
food and anxious to listen and learn, that we must be content to
leave undetermined. They who like the flavour of the old
antiquarianism may enjoy it in its spiciest form, if they choose to
hunt up among certain forgotten volumes now grown scarce. They may
read what John Caius (pronounced Keys) wrote as the champion of
Cambridge, and Thomas Caius wrote as champion of Oxford; they may
rejoice their hearts over the Battle of the Keys, and come to what
conclusion they prefer to arrive at. For most of us, however, this
sort of old-world lore has lost its charm. A man lives through his
taste for some questions. The student of history nowadays is inclined
to say with St. Paul, "So fight I not as one that beateth the air,"
and to reject with some impatience the frivolous questions which help
not a jot towards bringing us into closer relation with the life and
personality of our ancestors.
"I am halt sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott;
and we, too, have grown weary of weaving our webs with our backs to
the light.
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