themselves into Magdalen Tower--into harmony with his thoughts, and the
setting sun makes a mandorla behind him. He is thinking of Oxford, and
round his head _Oriel_ clings as in 'The Blessed Damozel.'

He could terrorise the Colonial Secretary, he could foment a war and add
a new empire to England; he could not overcome his love of Oxford, the
antithesis of all sordid financial intrigue and political marauding.
Athens was after all a dearer name than Groot-Schuurr. He set fire to
both.

I speculate sometimes whether the University was aware of his
testamentary dispositions before it conferred on him an honorary degree.
I hope not. He deserved it as the greatest son of Oxford, the greatest
Englishman of his time. Imre Kiralfy, who has done for a whole district
of London what Mr. Rhodes tried to do for the empire, is but an
_impresario_ beside him. A French critic says we cannot admire greatness
in England; and this was shown by the timid way a large number of
Imperialists, while professing to believe the war a righteous one,
thought they would seem independent if they disclaimed approval of Mr.
Rhodes, by not having the pluck to admit the same motives though ready
enough to share the plunder. You may compare the ungrateful
half-unfriendly obituaries in the press with the leaders a few days
later, after the will was opened.

But what immediately concerns us here is the intention of Mr. Rhodes. Was
it entirely benevolence, or some wish to test the strength of Oxford--to
bring undergraduates into contact with something coarser, some terrific
impermeable force that would be manner-proof against Oxford? Would he
conquer from the grave? Several Americans have been known to go through
the University retaining the Massachusetts _patina_. What if a number of