2. Books are to be lent, and what is more ought to be sent out of Oxford, because it is an immense convenience to students at a distance to have Bodleian treasures close at hand. Not a doubt about it; vastly convenient. Suppose I am studying Greek sculpture, it would be very convenient to get all the master-pieces sent from the various galleries of Europe to London or Oxford. It would not only be a convenience, but a joy and a delight, to have over the Venus of Melos. Instead of sitting for hours together, as I used to do, in the Louvre, it would be much more convenient to go down to the New Schools and gaze on that glorious and divine being. Does any one suddenly scent an absurdity in the supposition? Why so do I, but the absurdity is in the whole argument, not in the particular application of it. Some people who have not a gift for seeing the point of things will ride off by saying that the Venus is a majestic beauty, and that the expense of her carriage and insurance would be enormous. Such an objection is pointless, because it evades the question of convenience; but let us take a case where weight will not oppress us. Say you study Greek gems; would it not be very convenient to have some of the best from Naples, from Paris, from Rome, and from Vienna, sent here to the Bodleian, where you could study them at your leisure? They are more portable than books, far less liable to damage, and hardly more valuable. Do you think that any guardian of such treasures would be so foolish as to listen to your request? Would any nation, city, or even University, permit it? The cases, it will be said, are not parallel. Gems, coins, medals, statuettes, are too valuable to be lent; the books and manuscripts which the Bodleian Curators lend are comparatively valueless. I am by no means sure of that fact. I have before now tapped at a friend's door, and receiving no answer entered his room to leave a message or what not, and have more than once seen lying on his table an eleventh-century Bodleian manuscript of a certain classic author, a book of inestimable value, the _codex archetypus_ of every other copy now in existence. Any stranger could have entered that room, and any enterprising literary thief--a not uncommon and particularly detestable animal--might have slipped this priceless book into his pocket. I am by no means sure that very valuable manuscripts have not been, in spite of remonstrance, lent out within the last two years; but it is beyond all dispute that not so very long ago the thing was done, and any man or any body of men who will allow one such thing to be done are quite capable of allowing a dozen to be done.