But from this time onward, the College, having conquered in the great struggle concerning Hutchinson’s successor, obtained the practical nomination, and accordingly “the Senior Major of the Regiment,” or the next senior, was regularly promoted. By a curious coincidence, the influence of Primate Boulter’s policy, and the exclusion of Irishmen from Bishoprics, had also passed away, and so we find our Provosts passed on to the Episcopal Bench, leaving no mark upon the College, and taking no interest in ought beyond the decent management of the routine studies of the place. The history from the appointment of Murray to that of Bartholomew Lloyd, in 1837, is probably the least creditable in all the three centuries. No fine buildings were erected during these years. Even the belfry which was taken down was not rebuilt, and the great bell relegated to a shed in a remote corner of the College, where it lay for fifty years, till the munificence of a Chancellor educated at Oxford retrieved the disgrace. When the old Chapel was removed, so careless were these men of 1798 of the memories of the dead, that the alabaster monument of the pious founder, Luke Challoner, was thrust aside, not even into a shed, but into a corner, where the recumbent figure was defaced by the weather beyond recognition within thirty years. During the rule of the great Provosts there had been frequent bequests from rich members of the Society, who justly held that some practical expression of gratitude was due to the College which had conferred upon them wealth and dignity. That spirit died out with the century. From that day onward, many men drew £50,000 in salaries from the College, and did not return to it one farthing beyond their (often second-rate) official work. Constant gifts of plate from rich students, as well as Fellows, _for the use of the College_, had replaced the tax for _argent_, at one time levied (as it still is in some Oxford Colleges) on all who entered the College. These honourable gifts were no longer made, though any but a criminally supine set of rulers could easily have kept them up by example and advice. In fact, the existing plate was concealed in the safes of the Board-room, and never issued except for the Provost’s private use. During these disgraceful forty years no public display brought the College into notice except the lavish feast to George IV. (1821). At the same time, the number of students was very great, the incomes of Seniors in renewal fines, and of Juniors in Tutors’ fees, larger than they ever were before or since; yet these were the years which justly earned for the University of Dublin the now obsolete title of “Silent Sister.” There was a day when Oxford, for like reasons, had obtained the kindred name of “the Widow of Sound Learning.”