Sheldon's building was designed for a double use. It was to be at once the University Theatre and the University Printing Press, and it was used for the latter purpose till 1714, when the Oxford Press was moved across the quadrangle to the Clarendon Building, designed by Sir John Vanbrugh. The actual printing was done in the roof, on the floor above the painted ceiling. The Theatre is for this reason the mark on all Oxford books printed during the first half-century of its existence. In one respect Archbishop Sheldon was so unlike most Oxford benefactors that his merit must be especially mentioned. Men are often willing enough to give a handsome sum of money down to be spent on buildings; they too often leave to others the charge of maintaining these; but Sheldon definitely informed the University that he did not wish his benefaction to be a burden to it, and invested £2,000 in lands, out of the rents of which his Theatre might be kept in repair. The Sheldonian, thanks to its original donor and to the ever liberal Dr. Wills of Wadham, who supplemented the endowment a century later, has never been a charge on the University revenues. [Sidenote: The Restoration of the Sheldonian.] Unfortunately these repairs have been carried out with more zeal than discretion. Even in Wren's lifetime the alarm was raised that the roof was dangerous (1720), but the Vice-Chancellor of the time was wise enough not to consult a rival architect but to take the practical opinion of working masons and carpenters, who reported it safe. Nearly 100 years later the same alarm was raised, whether with reason or not we do not know, for no records were left; all we do know is that the 'restorers' of the day took Wren's roof off, removed his beautiful windows, inserted a new and larger cupola, and generally did their best to spoil his work. It is only necessary to compare the old pictures of the Sheldonian with its present state to see how in this case, as in so many others, Oxford's architectural glories have suffered from our insane unwillingness to let well alone. [Sidenote: The History of the Sheldonian.] The Sheldonian was not in existence during the period when University history was most picturesque. Its associations therefore are nearly all academic, and academic functions, however interesting to those who take part in them, do not appeal to the great world. Perhaps the most romantic scene that the Sheldonian has witnessed was the Installation of the Duke of Wellington as Chancellor in 1833, when the whole theatre went mad with enthusiasm as the writer of the Newdigate, Joseph Arnould of Wadham, declaimed his lines on Napoleon,-- And the dark soul a world could scarce subdue Bent to thy genius, chief of Waterloo. The subject of the poem was 'The Monks of St. Bernard'. But the enthusiasm was almost as great, and the poetry far superior, when Heber recited the best lines of the best Newdigate on record:--