The speaker, in Mr. Lowes Dickenson’s dialogue, condemns this generation when he says, “their idea of being better off is to eat and drink to excess, to dress absurdly, and to play stupidly and cruelly”.
The majority of the people, it must be admitted, cannot have the best sort of happiness, that which comes from within themselves, from the exercise of their own thoughts, and from the use of their own faculties. For want of knowledge the sum of happiness is decreased, and for want of the same knowledge the dangers of war and social troubles are increased. The working people have now become the governing class in the nation. Up to now, the acting governors—the majority which controls the Government—have cajoled them by party cries, by appeals to passion, and by the familiar blandishments of expert canvassers, to fall in with their policy. But every year working people are forming their own opinions, and making their opinions felt, both in home and foreign policy. They will break in upon the international equilibrium, so delicately poised amid passions and prejudices; they will decide the use of the Dreadnoughts and the armies of the world; they will settle questions of property and of tariff; they will form the authority which will have to control individual action for the good of the whole. How can they possibly carry this responsibility if they have no wider outlook on life, no greater knowledge of men, no more power of foresight, no more respect for tradition than that which they already possess?
How shortsighted is the policy which spends millions on armaments, and leaves them to become destructive in ignorant hands. How important for national security is a knowledge “in widest commonalty spread”. Oxford, to a large extent, possesses this knowledge and the means of its distribution.
“The national Universities, which are the national fountainheads of national culture,” as one workman has said, have been regarded as the legitimate preserves of the leisured class. They have helped the rich to enjoy and defend their possessions, they have given them out of their resources the power to see and to reason; they have made them wise in their own interests; they have given to one class, and to the recruits who have been drawn to that class from the ranks of the workman, the knowledge in which is happiness and power. The question arises, should Oxford, can Oxford, give the same gifts to working people while they remain working people? The answer of the report is an unequivocal “Yes”.
In the first place the University has inherited the duty of educating the poor. Its colleges have in many cases been founded for poor scholars, and its tradition is that poverty shall be no bar to learning.
In the next place its long-established custom, of bringing men into association in pursuit of knowledge, is one which peculiarly fits it to help workmen, whose strength lies in that power of association which has covered some districts of England with a network of institutions—industrial, social, political, and religious. Men who have joined in the discussions of the workshop, been members of the committee of a co-operative store, and acted as officials of a friendly society, have had in some ways a better preparation for absorbing the teaching of the University on life, than is given in the forms and playing field of a public school. The tutor of a class of thirty-nine working people at N—— who read with him, the regular session through, a course of Economic History, reports that the work was excellent, and a visitor from Oxford was impressed “by the high level of the discussion and the remarkable acumen displayed in asking questions”.
In the last place, the University has the money. The total net receipts of the Universities and colleges—apart from a sum of £178,000 collected from the members of the Universities and colleges—is £265,000. Of this sum, £50,000 is given in scholarships and exhibitions to boys who for the most part have been trained in the schools of the richer classes, and of this sum £34,000 is given yearly without reference to the financial means of the recipient. The report does not analyse the expenditure of this large income, except in so far as to suggest that some of the scholarship and fellowship money might be diverted to the more direct service of working people’s education. Common sense, however, suggests that there must be many possible economies in the management of estates, in the overlapping of lecturers, and in the expense on buildings. The experience of the Ecclesiastical Commission has shown how much may be gained if estates are removed from the care of many amateur corporations, and placed under a centralized and efficient management. The knowledge, too, that some colleges have ten times the income of others, without corresponding difference in the educational output, suggests that money may be saved.
Oxford seems to be compelled, both by its traditions, its customs, and its money to do something for the education of the working people. The question whether it can do so, is answered by the scheme which the report recommends; that a committee be formed in Oxford, consisting of working-class representatives, in equal numbers with members of the University; that this Committee should draw up a two years’ curriculum, select the tutors, who must also have work in Oxford, and settle the localities in which classes shall be held; that students at these classes be admitted to the diploma course; that half of the teachers’ salary be paid by the University, and the other half by the Committee of the locality in which the classes are held. The report, with a view to bringing working people under the influence of Oxford itself, further recommends that colleges be asked to set aside a number of scholarships or exhibitions, to enable selected students from the tutorial classes to reside in Oxford, either in Colleges, in University Halls, as non-collegiate students, or at Ruskin Hall.
These recommendations have certain advantages and certain shortcomings, the consideration of which must be deferred to another article.
Samuel A. Barnett.