hat it will be in the future,
only the future can show. If Mr. Rhodes gave his millions to the
University, he gave his tens of thousands to his old College. The
result on the High Street is--to put it gently--not altogether happy;
but perhaps time may soften the lines of Mr. Champney's somewhat
uninspired front, though it is not likely to quicken interest in the
statues of the obscure provosts which adorn it.

QUEEN'S COLLEGE

"The building, parent of my young essays,
Asks in return a tributary praise;
Pillars sublime bear up the learned weight,
And antique sages tread the pompous height."
TICKELL.

Queens's is one of the six oldest colleges in Oxford, and is far on
to celebrating its sexcentenary, but it has purged itself of the
Gothic leaven in its buildings more completely than any other Oxford
foundation. It does not even occupy its own old site, for the
building originally lay well back from the High Street. It was only
the "civilities and kindnesses" of Provost Lancaster which induced
the Mayor and Corporation of Oxford, in 1709, to grant to Queen's
College "for 1,000 years," "so much ground on the High Street as
shall be requisite for making their intended new building straight
and uniform." And so the most important of "the streamlike windings
of the glorious street" was in part determined by a corrupt bargain
between "a vile Whig" (as Hearne calls this hated Provost) and a
complaisant mayor. But much of the credit for the beauty of this part
of the High must also be given to the architect of University College
(seen in Plate IX on the left), who, whether by skill or by accident,
combined at a most graceful angle the two quads, erected with an
interval of some eighty years between them (1634 and 1719).

A man must, indeed, be a Gothic purist who would wish away the
stately front quadrangle of Queen's, designed by Wren's favourite
pupil, Hawkmoor, while the master himself is said to be responsible
for the chapel of the College, the most perfect basilican church in
Oxford.

If Queen's has been revolutionary in its buildings, it has been
singularly tenacious of old customs. Its members still assemble at
dinner to the sound of the trumpet (blown by a curious arrangement
/after/ grace has been said); it still keeps up the ancient and
honoured custom of bringing in the boar's head--"the chief service of
this land"--for dinner on Christmas Day