always seized with [34] the greatest avidity by these
people, and taken by them as quite justifying their
life; and that thus they tend to harden them in their
sins. Now, culture admits the necessity of the
movement towards fortune-making and exaggerated industrialism,
readily allows that the future may derive benefit
from it; but insists, at the same time, that the passing
generations of industrialists,—forming,
for the most part, the stout main body of Philistinism,—are
sacrificed to it. In the same way, the result
of all the games and sports which occupy the passing
generation of boys and young men may be the establishment
of a better and sounder physical type for the future
to work with. Culture does not set itself against
the games and sports; it congratulates the future,
and hopes it will make a good use of its improved
physical basis; but it points out that our passing
generation of boys and young men is, meantime, sacrificed.
Puritanism was necessary to develop the moral fibre
of the English race, Nonconformity to break the yoke
of ecclesiastical domination over men’s minds
and to prepare the way for freedom of thought in the
distant future; still, culture points out that the
harmonious perfection of generations of [35] Puritans
and Nonconformists have been, in consequence, sacrificed.
Freedom of speech is necessary for the society of
the future, but the young lions of the Daily Telegraph
in the meanwhile are sacrificed. A voice for
every man in his country’s government is necessary
for the society of the future, but meanwhile Mr. Beales
and Mr. Bradlaugh are sacrificed.
Oxford, the Oxford of the past, has many faults; and
she has heavily paid for them in defeat, in isolation,
in want of hold upon the modern world. Yet we
in Oxford, brought up amidst the beauty and sweetness
of that beautiful place, have not failed to seize one
truth:—the truth that beauty and sweetness
are essential characters of a complete human perfection.
When I insist on this, I am all in the faith and
tradition of Oxford. I say boldly that this our
sentiment for beauty and sweetness, our sentiment against
hideousness and rawness, has been at the bottom of
our attachment to so many beaten causes, of our opposition
to so many triumphant movements. And the sentiment
is true, and has never been wholly defeated, and has
shown its power even in its defeat. We have not
won our political battles, we have not carried our
[36] main points, we have not stopped our adversaries’
advance, we have not marched victoriously with the
modern world; but we have told silently upon the mind
of the country, we have prepared currents of feeling
which sap our adversaries’ position when it
seems gained, we have kept up our own communications
with the future. Look at the course of the great
movement which shook Oxford to its centre some thirty
years ago! It was directed, as any one who reads
Dr. Newman’s Apology may see, against what in
one word maybe called “liberalism.”
Liberalism prevailed; it was the appointed force
to do the work of the hour; it was necessary, it was
inevitable that it should prevail. The Oxford
movement was broken, it failed; our wrecks are scattered
on every shore:—