A year later there occurred what must have been one of the most gratifying incidents in the actor’s career, and one of the most pleasant to recall. The Oxford commencements, held on June 26, 1886, were more than usually brilliant. At that time, the late learned and popular Dr. Jowett was Vice-Chancellor, a man, as is well known, of the largest sympathies. Though a divine, he took a deep interest in Irving and his profession. On its being proposed to confer honorary degrees on certain distinguished guests, including Mr. John Bright, the Vice-Chancellor, it is said, suggested the name of the well-known actor. There was something, as I say, dramatic or characteristic in this proposal, coming as it did from so expressive a personality. The University, however, was not prepared to go so far as this, though the proposal was only negatived, it is said, by a narrow majority of two votes. The vigorous purpose of the Vice-Chancellor was not to be thus baffled, and by a brilliant _coup_ he contrived that the very omission of the actor’s name—like the absence of one portrait from a series—should suggest that the chief performer had been “left” out, and thus supplied a fresh element in the brilliancy of his reception. He invited him to deliver a lecture on his art in the very precincts of the University, and under the patronage of its most distinguished professors and “Heads,” and it may be conceived that the figure of the popular player became the cynosure of attraction in the brilliant academic show. “For when the well-grac’d actor quits the scene, The eyes of men are idly bent on him that enters next.” When it became known that the actor was to give his address, everyone of note and culture and importance in the place rushed to secure seats. Some fourteen hundred persons were present, with most of “the Heads of Houses,” and distinguished professors. Dr. Jowett welcomed him in some warm and well-chosen phrases, telling him how much honoured they felt by his coming to them. A good English actor, he said happily enough, lived in the best company—that of Goethe and Shakespeare; and coming from such, he might seem to convey that he was good enough company for them.