The Oxford Education

F.W. Bateson famously wrote, "If the Mona Lisa is in the Louvre, where is Hamlet?" That is, despite the utter ubiquity of works of art like the Mona Lisa, there is never any question of what or who the "Mona Lisa" is; it is a painting, housed in the depths of the Palais du Louvre, sheltered from tourists' spit by protective glass, and oft cited as one of the most unimpressive masterpieces to see in real life. If--heaven forbid!--a fire were to destroy it along with all of the other chefs d'oeuvres in the museum, there would be no question of La Joconde's second life, perhaps a high-quality copy done by a leading contemporary painter. Mona Lisa would be dead.

Hamlet, though, is another matter. As we thoroughly debated today in my bibliography class today in response to the professor posing the above question, a literary text is somehow different from a piece of art like the Mona Lisa. If all the copies of Shakespeare's First Folio were to somehow disappear, would "Hamlet" as well? Is "Hamlet" the book itself?  What about if the quartos--a bibliographic rat's nest of elephantine proportions--also disappeared? Would one of the infinite number of theatrical representations still being produced suffice as a substitute; does "Hamlet" denote a performance? Or perhaps, given the inevitable changes that occur throughout the production, editing, and transmission processes, "Hamlet" only existed in the mind of Shakespeare himself?

Now, I admit, these are questions that most people will dismiss as completely irrelevant to, well, life. I could go on and try to explain how actually such epistemological questions are central to our understanding of history, culture, society, etc., but I only bring this up as a segue into what is for me a more personal question: "If the Mona Lisa is in the Louvre, where is an Oxford education?"

As with the Hamlet question, one could reply, "Well, Oxford England, spread out among 38 different colleges, or, in the case of graduate students, limitless numbers of faculties [that's departments, for you American-speakers] and degree programs." But the longer I stay here, the more I am learning that the Oxford education is much, much more than this. It is similar to the Princeton one, in this way; following a strictly defined academic path is not the way to take best advantage of their opportunities.

While I am pursuing a master's in Early Modern literature here at Oxford, the sheer number of ways to increase one's knowledge and understanding are, quite literally, limitless. In two days, I have attended two seminar series: one on Early Modern manuscripts (looking at an early manuscript of Sir Philip Sidney's Old Arcadia) and one on "the Far East and the Limits of Representation in the Theatre"--and these are just in my immediate research field! There are scores of other seminars I could attend if I wanted, relating to French theatre, Shakespeare studies, seventeenth-century intellectual history, student-run Early Modern paper presentations....The list goes on and on. At each one, we have the opportunity to hear cutting-edge research and ideas, followed by a question and answer session that never fails to impress me with the all-encompassing knowledge of the people in the room. They're wonderful forums for back-and-forth in a leisurely (wine and orange juice served), yet awe-inspiring (e.g. Merton College) setting. And these are just optional seminars, which are in addition to conferences (one is happening this weekend), which are completely outside of classes. 

If this weren't enough, though, there is also the hands-on-tutorial-type opportunity, example: hand-press printing. Underneath the vast, impossible-to-exploit troves of the Bodleian Library (scarily enough, closed to the public while they are making renovations to bring it up to an insurance-approved safety level) lie antique, Gutenberg-type printing presses, heavy as behemoths and hundreds of years old. You see, up until the 19th century, books were printed (note: different from bound) by hand by the members of a (usually) small printing shop. It's a fascinating case in social history to learn how it actually worked, and people have devoted whole books to a single step in the printing process. Don't worry: I won't go there. But suffice it to know that there is a true art to laying out type (composition), estimating the finished length (casting off), fitting the paper in the press, rolling ink onto the balls, actually printing the ink on the page (imposition), inserting any images, hanging it up to dry, etc. It was an extensive, laborious process, but one that's absolutely fascinating in its precision and beauty. And we're going to get to do it! On genuine, hundred-year-old presses! How cool is that? These are the types of opportunities one gets in attending a university nearly one thousand years old with a library containing (at least in theory) EVERY book printed in Britain since 1610. 


Of course, I haven't even gotten into the opportunities created just by sitting and talking to engaged, brilliant academics over meals, drinks, or college outings. The spirit of academic inquiry pervades Oxford to such an extent that it is hard to pin down what exactly is at the heart of this discourse. And it isn't just in Oxford; I have received emails about Oxbridge gatherings occurring throughout the world. 

Certainly, the Oxford education is rooted in this city, but it is not limited to one building, one course, even one department. It is built into the very bricks of St. Mary's church, it sounds in the belated bells of Christ College, it echoes off the ivy-covered city wall running through fourteenth-century New College. It is, one gets the sense, in the very air one breathes.