Latin fever takes hold as alumni elect Oxford's new chancellor

Some wore gowns, some sported scarves against the chill wind, and others were still wearing their bicycle clips in a show of scholastic absentmindedness. All, however, wore a sense of occasion.

And so yesterday they arrived beneath the baroque magnificence of Oxford's School of Divinity in the shadow of Sir Christopher Wren's Sheldonian Theatre to cast their vote for a successor to the university's late chancellor, Lord Jenkins of Hillhead.

Together they form part of an elite electorate, boasting a large swath of the British establishment from the Prime Minister down, and at least one former president of the United States. The post, described by Lord Jenkins as "impotence assuaged by grandeur'', has been held by Oliver Cromwell and the Duke of Wellington. When the votes from yesterday and today are counted, one of four people will occupy it.

The favourite is Chris Patten, former chairman of the Conservative Party, the last governor of Hong Kong and now a European commissioner. His chief rival is seen as Lord Bingham of Cornhill, a former master of the rolls and lord chief justice. The two outsiders are Lord Neill of Bladen, former chairman of the Committee on Standards in Public Life and a past vice-chancellor of the university, and Sandi Toksvig, the broadcaster and comedian, who happens to hold a degree from Cambridge University.

One of Ms Toksvig's main backers is one Will Straw, president of the Oxford Students Union and son of Jack, the Foreign Secretary. Mr Straw Jnr was out in the sunshine yesterday distributing leaflets on behalf of his chosen candidate.

"Toksvig is the only candidate supported by Oxford students because she is against top-up fees,'' said Mr Straw, who as a graduate in politics, philosophy and economics is entitled to vote – an honour denied to undergraduates.

All graduates – an unknown number – together with all current dons and university administration staff – about 3,000 – are eligible to vote.

Mr Straw was interrupted in his campaigning by the spindly figure of Lord – "just call me Tom'' – Bingham, who had arrived to rally his most vocal of supporters.

Amid the general scrum, Lord Bingham strode over to shake the hand of Mr Straw: "Hullo, I'm the enemy,'' he said. There's a pause. And then with impeccable timing he added the master touch of an establishment figure: "I know your father, of course.''

While they were involved in an animated conversation along came Ludovic Kennedy, grey hair askew, leaning heavily on a stick and wearing a particularly natty pair of carpet slippers. Agreeing to sport a Binghamite badge, the veteran campaigner warmly greeted the former lord chief justice, assured him of his vote and shuffled off to join the queue.

And as the morning continued, so they came. Predominantly male, white, middle aged or elderly, protected against the chill by tweeds and wax jackets, leaning on their walking frames or, in some cases, their bicycles. Some brought their wives and a few brought their children. Lord Hoffmann, the former Mr Justice Hoffmann, Queens 1954, was voting for Lord Bingham, "one of his colleagues". Sir Edward Heath and Rowan Atkinson, the comedian, both refused to disclose their intentions, as almost 5,000 cast their votes on the first day. Tony Dodd, Balliol, a computer programmer, also refused to say: "I voted for Jenkins last time [in 1987]," he said, "but there was a Balliol whip then, there isn't today.''

Almost certainly the oldest voter was Margaret Allen, 92, who read modern history at Somerville in 1928 and was helped on her long slow walk to vote by a walking stick and a security guard.

If Ms Toksvig had the student vote and Lord Bingham had the legal lobby sewn up, then Mr Patten certainly had the female vote. "He's got the international profile,'' said Dr Anne Buchanan, of St Hilda's, who swept past in the day's longest cardigan.

Outside, a Patten supporter wore a "Vote Patten" T-shirt and a bemused expression. But since he was a blow-up Spiderman, it was difficult to ask which college he had been to.

A group of Japanese tourists gazed on in wonder. Next to Spiderman, a group of Binghamites handed out badges in English and Latin. It was that kind of election.

A tough job but someone has to do it

Oxford University conceded yesterday that while its Chancellor receives nothing as vulgar as money in exchange for doing its bidding, remuneration came in the rather more convivial form of "unlimited hospitality". The former incumbent Lord Jenkins of Hillhead, above, clearly revelled in the post, claiming it took up a quarter of his time yet provided half of his enjoyment. Opportunities for good living are ample. Dining in the company of some of the world's finest minds is routine. The former chancellor made it a point of principle to work his way through the dining rooms of all 39 colleges, enjoying at Christ Church the finest claret – wrapped in a white table cloth to avoid the envy of fellow diners – and roast swan at Worcester College. The full pomp and ceremony peaks during a single day at the end of the academic year in June for the award of the University's honorary degrees.

Dressed in a black Wippell gown with gold braiding, the Chancellor is accompanied by a mace-bearer and followed by a train-bearer.

College principals say a key asset is to be at ease in the company of the many monarchs and heads of state associated with the University. Lord Jenkins was praised for his aplomb on such occasions.

Matthew Beard