Correspondence
A Letter From Cambridge [To the Editor of THE SPECTATOR.1 SIR,—The stream of University life has two aspects. As an institution and a centre of civilization the current is deep and continuous, not easily or often changed : but on the surface of this stately flow are to be found little eddies and whirlpools of opinion, representing the change of sentiment of the vocal, if transient, minority. The first aspect of Cambridge is permanent and calls for, no comment—it was well illustrated recently when Dr. Filarl-ett at the Cavendish laboratory isolated the, positive electron and created a new world, while Mr. Sheppard at the New Theatre produced the Oresteia of Aeschylus and recreated the old one. It is the little pops and bubbles of the second aspect, the surface, ,hat I shall attempt to describe.
When Mr. Gladstone went to Oxford the talk was " all of politics and religion." A year ago Cambridge would have achieved the incredible, it would have silenced Mr. Gladstone. To-day he would again be in his element. For the stage has suddenly been reset : politics and religion, so recently mere supers in the drama of discussion have achieved a startling come-back : Doctor Buchman and Karl Marx bask in the warm limelight of interest from which so suddenly and so decisively they have elbowed Proust and Picasso, who now eke out a shadowy existence in the dim and cocoa- haunted recesses of Newnham and Girton. The crisis in fact has come to Cambridge, and much of the gay froth has gone. Faced with the prospect. of finding no place in it, undergraduates have discovered in the outside world a new and alarming importance : some, usually the more thoughtful, have turned to politics, and some to Dr. Buchman.
'In normal times political discussion had to be sought in the political clubs ; but even there, the protagonists seemed to be drawn from among those who, whether filled with a vague altruism or attracted by personal ambition, in any case regarded politics as an agreeable game. The pressure of external events have now made what was a pastime into a necessity, has taken politics out of the clubs and intro- duced them to the rooms of the University. Nor are recent sensations at Oxford peculiar in nature to that University, for the conditions of academic life, divorced as it is from practical considerations, have had their inevitable result. Opinion in a University is reached rather by argument than experience, and accordingly tends towards the extreme. Communism, intellectually so attractive, has not surprisingly been the chief gaiiter. Two years ago it was necessary for even the milkiest and most watery of Socialist doctrine to be explained, to-day the name of Karl Marx, if not on every lip, has at least stormed the august fortress of the Cambridge Review. The more dangerous fact is that so far Communist recruits have been drawn from among those who in older and happier days comprised the intellectual side of under- graduate opinion. Ephemeral magazines with stimulating and obscure titles have almost vanished : one brave blossom has indeed appeared (and not shyly) but though much of it was in " the best W. H. Day-Spender " tradition, it is significant that one contribution was headed " From Five States of Political Consciousness," the fifth and final stage being, apparently, Communism. No standard of opposition capable of rallying opinion has yet been raised. Repression has been relaxed—the days when a question could be asked in Parliament because a Trinity lecturer advised his class to read the Communist manifesto are sadly passed. The Socialist society continues to be accused of moving to the left, while Liberal arguments, however nice, do not appear likely to appeal at the passionate moment. New develop- ments, however , seem imminent. Over' five hundred people crowded to the Union to hear Sir Oswald Mosley, and though he lost the motion, he received unexpectedly numerous support. The need for able- high. Conservative -propaganda is acute : so efficient among the provincial classes, it has as yet been inadequate to the needs of a University : con- fronted by the choice between Professor Hearnshaw and John Strachey it is easy to see why so many have swung to the left.
The other topic of almost universal interest has been the development of the religious group which has arrogated to itself the title of Oxford. As a sign of religious revival this organization has been justly welcomed, and in so far as it has provoked religious diseussi writ has performed an obviously valuable work. What the groups offer is rather an easy way of life than a religion, and in it many of the more emotional have found a satisfying home. As far as one can gather, even in the short life it has already had, the spiritual side has somewhat lost at the expense of the social. Though it provides for the uncertain a basis on which close personal relationships can quickly be constructed, there are at the moment no signs that the group will emerge as a counter attraction to politics for the more thoughtful, and its effects have occasionally 'been slightly fantastic. The success of the movement is probably the obverse side of the new attitude imposed by external. events, and the fact that there is, after all, an Anglican Church having been made more familiar by Dean Inge in his " Mission," it is possible that the Group Movement may initiate a valuable revival in and within an Established Church, having for its ultimates something more satisfying than misty rationalizations ; if this turns out to be so, the slight irritation caused by the complacency of some of the group's members will be justified.
One piece of news symbolizes the tendencies already noted. It is announced that at the end of the term the Festival Theatre will cease to exist. For the past seven years Mr. Terence Gray has pursued an aggressive policy of new or novel present- ations, and though some of his productions may have irritated rather than amused, there is no doubt whatever that his work was often interesting and occasionally almost uniquely valuable. The defects of the theatre were defects of detail rather than policy, for it was afraid of nothing. That the Festival should cease to exist just now can perhaps be attri- buted to what I have already described, the invasion of academic values by those outside. In ordinary times the Universities regard the outside world as purely phenomenal ; they are now, as Oxford has shown, not only -prepared to discuss it, but even to treat it as if it were real.—I am, Sir, Sze
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