Each generation is firmly convinced that never before has life made such excessive demands upon human energy, and is therefore inclined to make light of the labours of preceding ages. Yet it would be a mistake to think of the University during the first half of the nineteenth century as a place of infinite leisure. It is true that there were far fewer permanent syndicates and no Boards of Studies, and that most members of the Senate were very seldom called upon to engage in University business; but the duties of some of the University officers were at least sufficiently exacting to be felt as a burden. Shortly after Dr Guest of Caius had retired from the Vice-Chancellorship, he declared that he was “in a state of Elysium”, being at last delivered “from his horrid enemy, indigestion”; and certainly a Vice-Chancellor needed to have a fairly robust physique to fulfil his duties without detriment to his health. As he was almost the sole administrative officer of the University, there was hardly any of its business with which he was not directly concerned; and to demand of a hard-worked man that he should examine for many of the University prizes and scholarships, and manage, without expert assistance, the finances of the University was to increase quite unnecessarily an already very heavy load.