Many of the old houses had been shorn away in the process of widening the streets; but some people were not satisfied. The old Gothic buildings had begun to command a certain zeal without knowledge; but people disliked the Gothic pattern of the streets, and the irregular patches of domestic buildings. They wanted to have things cleaned up, and made regular; to have "views;" to see the great buildings in solitary distance with no interference from house-roofs or trees, a thing that very few buildings in the world can stand. An interesting evidence of this state of mind is a little book by a certain rector of Lincoln, Dr. Tatham. It was he who defaced the old quad of his college with stupid battlements and other changes. He is remembered by Mr. Cox as an old gentleman, who lived out of Oxford, but might be seen landing his pigs in the market-place on Saturdays, and who, in defence of the faith and the Three Witnesses, in the University pulpit, wished all the "Jarmans" at the bottom of the "Jarman" Ocean. The book is called "Oxonia Explicata et Ornata: Proposals for Disengaging and Beautifying the University and City of Oxford." The buildings of Oxford, he thought, were "too crowded and engaged. Our forefathers seem to have consulted petty convenience and monastic reclusiveness, while they neglected that uniformity of Design which is indispensable to elegance, and that grandeur of Approach which adds half the delight. If the Colleges and Public Edifices of this place were drawn apart from each other, and dispersed through the extent of a thousand acres, so that each might enjoy the situation a man of genius would approve, we might boast," &c. He prefixes to the book a little design of his own for a martyr's memorial, "a triumphant monument to be placed across Broad Street, the whole so airy as very little to obstruct the view of the buildings." Of this design one may say that it would have been much more interesting than the Eleanor Cross of Sir Gilbert Scott.