Baroque is not an adjective that comes to mind when one thinks of Oxford. It is most commonly thought that dreaming spires and cloistered college precincts, so familiar as a touchstone for evocations of University, are medieval, although they are so more through association than fact. Yet there are a surprising number of buildings that play a dominating role in creating prospect of central Oxford that were not to arrive until late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. I want to discuss works of this period designed by Christopher Wren and Nicholas Hawksmoor, two of principal protagonists of English Baroque architecture. Rather than struggling to define stylistic labels, it will be more apposite to look at how some of these buildings fit into Oxford townscape. The view down Broad Street is closed at East end by profile of Old Clarendon Building, and row of Ancients cordoning off back of Sheldonian Theatre. The latter is first work in architectural career of then Dr Christopher Wren. He had been educated at Wadham College, and was a Fellow of All Souls, until appointed Professor of Astronomy at Gresham College, London, from where he later returned to Oxford in 1661, as Savilian Professor of Astronomy. As leading scientist of day, Wren was an active member of newly formed Royal Society, and it was at one of its meetings in 1663 that he first showed a model of his proposed design for Sheldonian Theatre. Gilbert Sheldon, Bishop of London, was behind idea for a new setting for University ceremonies, which function it serves to this day. The back of building, as visible from Broad Street, contains most of seating from which spectators face flat 'frons'. The richly decorated interior perhaps disguises derivation of lay-out from plan of a Roman theatre. In Robert Streeter's illusionistic ceiling painting, an allegory is revealed, described by a near contemporary as being of the Descent of Arts and Sciences, that are congregated in a circle of clouds, to whose assembly Truth descends, as being solicited, and implored by them all. This painting concealed an example of Wren's practical ingenuity and an application of his skill in geometry, in form of a roof-truss made up of horizontally interlocking beams, which device was needed in order to span ceiling and avoid supporting piers. It seems possible that original intention was to execute fabric along lines of a Roman model's columniated and airy structure, available via sixteenth-century pattern book of Serlio. Nevertheless, economy, if not propriety, dictated a simpler scheme. As it is, facade itself is also borrowed unaltered from one of Serlio's less inspired plates, result of which is not greatly missed as it stands close up to side of Divinity School. Quite different is elevation that runs around rest of building. The variety of wallsurface created by limited inclusion of swags and trophies over rear entrance, cartouches over upper windows, and delicate rustication, is in its effect hardly three-dimensional. This characteristic speaks of a knowledge of French architecture, almost certainly derived from engravings, as construction was well under way when Wren had returned from his visit to France in 1665. The present cupola replaced original in 1838, and provides a welcome panorama after enclosed impression of so many quadrangles and gates. Wren's first 'experiment' in architecture produced a result that would seem to hold little promise. However, it is in its own way an adroit performance: whole is more considerable than sum of its parts. One need not feel that Ancients grimace at what stands behind them: sight of New Bodleian is another matter.