Education: Oxford's Ancient Quality Act

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It was the Bible that made Oxford's fortune. Kings and canons alike were upset by such slipshod jobs as the so-called Wicked Bible of 1631, which contained one of history's worst typos: the word not was omitted from the seventh commandment, making it read, "Thou shall commit adultery." In 1636 the Crown appointed Oxford an official Bible publisher of the realm. (Another was the rival Cambridge University Press, an upstart established in 1521.) While the Bible has been the press's alltime bestseller (countless millions of copies), the delegates view their massive, 13-volume dictionary as their greatest achievement and call it the "repository of the language." Sir James Murray, a Scottish schoolmaster turned philologist, began the project in 1879, amassing the entries of 1,000 word sleuths on index cards. Murray died in 1915, at the letter R, but his staff carried on and in 1928 published the last volume, signing off with zymurgy (the process of fermentation). The final total: 414,825 words.

From that mighty trunk many branches grew—18 versions in all, including concise, condensed and pocket-size models produced under the watchful eyes of 30 lexicographers. Last year Oxford won a lucrative, 32,500-volume order for its concise version when the buyer for a large British chain, wondering if the dictionary was really up to date, demanded to know whether the word streaker (a naked runner) was included. It was.

With inflation doubling printing costs and modern scholars more likely to run off copies of some obscure texts on the Xerox machine than to invest in costly slipcovered volumes, Oxford has been forced to pay attention to balance sheets. "Our overriding concern is to publish learned books," Christ Church Dean Henry Chadwick, a delegate for 19 years, told TIME London Correspondent Erik Amfitheatrof.

"But it's clear you can't do that unless you stay in the black." The press has been moving toward works of wider appeal, four-color paperback covers and a broad range of authors whose books may support the scholarly works. Editors no longer consider it beneath their dignity to offer advances and outbid other publishers. The press at Oxford eventually may even break a 500-year taboo and publish the novel of a living author.

But there is one tradition that the press's guardians vow not to break: that of their commitment to quality. "Our greatest asset is our reputation," says Sales Manager George Depotex. Without that, the whole enterprise might well be vulnerable to floccinaucinihilipilification.