showed his boldness alike in the style he chose--he broke once for all
with the Gothic tradition in Oxford--and in the skill with which he
designed a roof which was (and is) one of the largest unsupported roofs
in England. The construction of it was a marvel of ingenious design.

[Sidenote: Its Dedication.]

The cost of the whole building was L25,000, as Wren told Evelyn, and
architects, even the greatest of them, do not usually over-estimate the
cost of their designs; but other authorities place it at L16,000, or
even at a little over L12,000. At any rate, it was felt to be, as Evelyn
writes, 'comparable to any of this kind of former ages, and doubtless
exceeding any of the present, as this University does for colleges,
libraries, schools, students and order, all the universities in the
world.' We may pardon the enthusiasm of one who was himself an Oxford
man, after a day on which 'a world of strangers and other company from
all parts of the nation' had been gathered for the Dedication. The
ceremonies lasted two days (July 9 and 10, 1669), and on the first day
extended 'from eleven in the morning till seven at night'; we are not
told how long they lasted on the second day. They consisted of speeches,
poems, disputations, and all the other forms of learned gaiety wherein
our academic predecessors took such unwearying delight; there was 'music
too, vocal and instrumental, in the balustrade corridor opposite to the
Vice-Chancellor's seat'. And those who took part had among them some who
bore famous names; the great preacher, South, was Public Orator; among
the D.D.s incepting were Tillotson, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury,
one of the first to introduce Modern English into the style of the
pulpit, and Compton, who, as Bishop of London, took so prominent a part
in the Revolution.

[Sidenote: The Roof Paintings.]

Not the least conspicuous feature in the new building was the paintings
by Robert Streater, which had been especially executed for it. In
accordance with the idea of Wren, who wished to imitate the uncovered
roofs of Greek and Roman theatres, the building, 'by the painting of the
flat roof within, is represented as open.' Pepys, who went to see
everything, records how he went to see these pictures in Streater's
studio, and how the 'virtuosos' who were looking at them, thought 'them
better than those of Rubens at Whitehall'; 'but,' Pepys has taste enough
to add, 'I do not fully think so.' This unmeasured ad