The very existence of the Sheldonian marks the development of University ideas.  The simple piety—­or was it the worldliness?—­of Pre-Reformation Oxford had seen nothing unsuitable in the ceremonies of graduate Oxford and the ribaldries of undergraduate Oxford taking place in the consecrated building of St. Mary’s; but the more sober genius of Anglicanism was shocked at these secular intrusions, and Sheldon provided his University with a worthy home, where its great functions have been performed ever since.

The building is a triumph of construction; it is doubtful if so large an unsupported roof can be found elsewhere; but Wren is not to be held responsible for the outside ugly flat roof, which was put on 100 years ago, because it was said, quite falsely, that Wren’s roof was unsafe.  That architect had set himself the problem of getting the greatest number of people into the space at his disposal, and he managed to fit in a building that will hold 1,500.  It was also intended for the Printing Press of the University, but was only used in that way for a short time, as in 1713 Sir John Vanbrugh put up the Clarendon Building, to house this department of University activity.  The “heaviness” of Vanbrugh’s buildings was a jest even in his own time; someone wrote as an epitaph for him

    “Lie heavy on him.  Earth, for he
     Laid many a heavy load on thee.”

Blenheim Palace, his greatest work, is indeed a “heavy load.”  But the same criticism can hardly be brought against the columned portico, which forms a fine ending for the Broad Street.  Vanbrugh’s building was superseded in its turn, when the increasing business of the Oxford Printing Press was moved to the present building in 1830.

 [Plate IV.  Sheldonian Theatre, etc., Broad Street]

Since then, all kinds of University business have been carried on in the old Printing Press.  The University Registrar and the University Treasurer (his style is “Secretary of the University Chest”) have their offices there; the Proctors exercise discipline from there; the various University delegacies and committees meet there.  And another side of Oxford life, not yet (in January 1920) fully recognized as belonging to the University, has found a home there; the top floor has been for twenty years past the centre of women’s education in Oxford, a position elevated indeed, for it is up more than fifty stairs, but commodious and dignified when reached at last.

Perhaps the Clarendon Building has gained in lightness of effect by being contrasted with the clumsy mass of the Indian Institute, which forms the background of our picture.  The nineteenth century proudly criticized the taste of the eighteenth; but it may well be doubted if any building in Oxford of the earlier and much-abused century is more inartistic and inappropriate than “Jumbo’s Joss House,” which used to rouse the scorn and anger of the late Professor of History, Edward A. Freeman.