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Title: Cambridge and Its Colleges

Author: A. Hamilton Thompson

Illustrator: E. H. New

Release date: June 3, 2018 [eBook #57266]

Language: English

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Map
of the
Colleges & Churches
of
CAMBRIDGE

References

1 Sᵗ. Botolph’s ch.

2 Sᵗ. Benedict’s ”
3 Sᵗ. Edward’s ”
4 Sᵗ. Mary the Gᵗ.
5 Sᵗ. Michael’s ch.
6 Senate House
7 Univʸ. Libʸ. & Mus. of Geology
8 Guildhall & Free Library

CAMBRIDGE AND ITS
COLLEGES

The Gate of Honour

Caius Coll:

CAMBRIDGE
AND
ITS COLLEGES

By
A · HAMILTON · THOMPSON · b.a.
St John’s College

Illustrated by
EDMVND · H · NEW

“Ground where the grass had yielded to the steps
Of generations of illustrious men.”

BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
LONDON
METHVEN & CO
MDCCCXCIX

TO MY MOTHER

PREFACE

S o much has been written about Cambridge that it is difficult to say
anything new; and this little book is therefore merely an attempt to put
together recorded facts in an orderly way. I have followed throughout
the arrangement adopted by Mr Wells in his book on “Oxford and its
Colleges,” and have also borrowed his method of marking the portraits of
college worthies with an asterisk. Every writer on Cambridge must be under
a great obligation to Willis and Clark’s Architectural History of the
University; and Mr Atkinson’s lately published book gives a singular
completeness to the authorities for the architectural side of the question.
Building at Cambridge, however, is a complex problem,—the history of
Clare and the University Church are cases in point—and to follow out
carefully every date and mark every alteration would be beyond these
limits. My endeavour has been, therefore, to indicate the general date of
every building rather than to assign a date to every particular part of its
construction. For the historical part of the book, the authorities, grave and
anecdotal, are too numerous to mention. Among modern works on the
subject, I owe a great deal to Mr J. W. Clark’s “Cambridge: Historical and
Picturesque Notes” (Seeley, 1890). I am sure, too, that whatever interest my
own part in this book may lack, Mr New’s drawings will more than supply.
Wisbech,
April 23, 1898.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Cambridge 1
II. The University Church 18
III. Peterhouse 29
IV. Clare College 42
V. Pembroke College 53
VI. Gonville and Caius College 65
VII. Trinity Hall 76
VIII. Corpus Christi College 85
IX. King’s College 93
X. Queens’ College 120
XI. St Catharine’s College 135
XII. Jesus College 144
XIII. Christ’s College 160
XIV. St John’s College 174
XV. Magdalene College 201
XVI. Trinity College 211
XVII. Emmanuel College 244
XVIII. Sidney Sussex College 254
XIX. Downing College 263
XX. Selwyn College, etc. 266
XXI. Girton and Newnham 272
XXII. The University Buildings 277
XXIII. The Churches of Cambridge 294

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The Gate of Honour, Caius College Frontispiece
St Mary the Great 19
St Peter’s College 31
Clare College 43
Clare Bridge 47
Pembroke College 55
King’s College 95
King’s College Chapel 99
Queens’ College 121
The Bridge, Queens’ College 125
St Catharine’s College 137
Jesus College 145
Christ’s College 161
St John’s College 175
St John’s College 179
Bridges of St John’s 183
Magdalene College 203
Trinity College 213
The Fountain, Trinity College 219
Sidney Sussex College 255
Newnham College 275
The Senate House 279
The Round Church 299
NOTE
The drawings have been made from photographs mostly taken by Messrs Stearn of Cambridge and
Messrs Valentine.

I
CAMBRIDGE

D r Caius’ ingenious contention that Cambridge was founded in 3538 b.c.
by Cantaber, a Spanish prince, has never received the support which its
audacity deserves. The town cannot pretend to so great an antiquity,
nor is its Roman origin even certain. It stood in the middle of a country
intersected by Roman lines of road; in no part of England are Roman and
British remains more plentiful and more interesting. The Via Devana, the
great highroad from Colchester to Chester, was the road which runs through
the modern town from the station to Magdalene Bridge, and continues in a
straight line to Godmanchester and Huntingdon. The Via Iceniana, or
Icknield Way, which ran straight across England from the Eastern Counties,
parts company with the Cambridge road on Newmarket Heath, and pursues
an undulating course south-westward to Royston and Hitchin. Ermine
Street, the Old North Road, ran through Caxton, ten miles west of
Cambridge, and met the Via Devana at Huntingdon. At Gogmagog Hills,
five miles out of the town, we can trace the remains of Vandlebury Camp,
which commanded the course of the Roman roads, and looked over the
southern Fens and the Essex border. The familiar name of Grantchester is
certainly of Roman origin. Instances might be multiplied to show how
important this country was to Roman strategy. But there is no direct
evidence to prove that Cambridge of to-day represents the ancient
Camboritum. The Castle Hill, that odd mound from which so good a view
of the town is obtained, is supposed to be in its origin Saxon; it formed an
important outpost against the Danes, who have left so many traces of their
occupation in Norfolk and Suffolk. And the municipal history of Cambridge
certainly begins with Saxon times, and it was the seat of one of the earliest
Gilds. Mr Atkinson, who has so admirably traced the municipal constitution
of the town, gives us some details of the purpose and form of the
Cambridge Gild of Thanes. It was what we should call to-day a friendly
society; its members afforded each other mutual help. Such Gilds became
common in Cambridge as in every town during the Middle Ages; they were

the great aids to municipal life, and we shall find that some of them grew
rich and powerful enough to found a College on their own account.
Our business is, however, with the University. One cannot fix a deliberate
date of foundation. Universities, like every other great design, have small
beginnings, and the origin of schools at Cambridge was probably
insignificant. Cambridge is on the border of the Fenland, and the Fenland
contained the richest abbeys in England. Besides the great house of Ely,
where the bishop was by virtue of his office abbot, there were, within easy
reach of Cambridge, the four Benedictine abbeys of Peterborough, Ramsey,
Thorney and Crowland, all of them in the very first rank of English houses.
Life in the Fens was hard and dismal, and even Peterborough, the
Medehampstead or Goldenburgh of Saxon times, must have been largely
under water for a great part of the year. The towns on the borders,
Cambridge or Stamford, formed an excellent asylum for those brethren who
were too weak to endure the unhealthy mists of the Nene and Welland
Wash. During the middle ages, Cambridge bristled with small religious
houses, cells depending on the greater abbeys; and in these the young
monks of Crowland and the other houses received their education. This was
the beginning of the University. The academic life was the life of the
cloister. The teaching consisted of the ordinary medieval sciences, Aristotle
and the scholastic logic. In after years, Erasmus deprecated the attachment
of Cambridge pedants to Aristotle and their unreadiness to accept the new
learning. Cambridge never was quite so famous a nursery of schoolmen as
Oxford; her history is somewhat more peaceful. Nor, when the medieval
theology fell into discredit, did she produce a teacher with the European
fame of Wyclif. Her history, however, has a chronology almost parallel with
that of Oxford. Out of the monastic system was evolved the freer life of
colleges. Oxford led the way with University and Merton; Cambridge
followed with Peterhouse. The college, as distinct from the monastery, was
a place of retreat whose aim was learning; the aim of the monastery was
self-discipline. It is needless to say that these colleges were established
upon a clerical basis: each was a society consisting of a master and a certain
number of fellows. Their constitution was that of a public School; the
modern undergraduate system was a much later development. The early
founders had no idea of a college in the modern sense; a society principally
composed of laymen, and a large body of undergraduates who to all intents
and purposes are the College. The one link which connects our colleges of

to-day with the original foundations is the existence of a college chapel,
uniting the various members of the institution for the prime object of the
learned society, the glory of God.
Medieval Cambridge lay, as our Cambridge still lies, east of the river,
which flowed in a course more or less corresponding to its present
direction. It was enclosed by the King’s Ditch, a stream at a tangent to the
main river. This started from the Mill Pool at the bottom of Silver Street,
and was crossed by Trumpington Street at the Trumpington Gate, close to
Pembroke. In fact, it followed the present Mill Lane and Downing Street
pretty closely, keeping to the left, until it reached Barnwell Gate at the
bottom of Petty Cury. From Barnwell Gate it followed the present Hobson
Street, ran across Sidney Gardens and down Park Street, skirted
Midsummer Common and rejoined the Cam about a hundred and fifty yards
below Magdalene Bridge. Within this elliptic space the old town was
contained. If you stood at the Round Church, you would see the two
familiar main thoroughfares separate as they do to-day. That to the left,
Bridge Street and Sidney Street, was called Conduit Street: it led to the
King’s Ditch at Barnwell Gate. That to the right, St John’s Street and Trinity
Street, led to the principal medieval foundations. On the right hand of it was
the Hospital of St John; on the left the Jewry and All Saints’ Church, with
its tower projecting over the roadway, like St John Maddermarket’s at
Norwich. Just beyond on the right was King’s Hall, with King’s Hall Lane
leading to the river. The next turning, St Michael’s Lane, the present Trinity
Lane, led in the same direction to Garret Hostel Bridge. In St Michael’s
Lane was Michael House, and St Michael’s and King’s Hall Lanes were
connected by the narrow and dirty street called Foul Lane. These two
colleges and the tortuous lanes connecting them occupied the site of Trinity.
The main street, after passing St Michael’s Church, came to Great St
Mary’s Church, and proceeded along King’s Parade as High Street. On
either side of this thoroughfare was an indiscriminate mass of houses—the
great court of King’s did not exist. Its site was then a labyrinth of narrow
alleys and beetling tenements. A winding lane led across the space now
occupied by the lawn east of King’s Chapel, to the Schools, and skirting
them, ran into the street leading from Michael House to the Mill Pool,
called Milne Street. Of this street, which passed Clare and crossed King’s
where Gibbs’ building stands, we still preserve the original course in
Queen’s Lane. It was connected with the parallel High Street by Piron Lane,

which occupied the north side of the court at King’s, and St Austin’s Lane,
which was the modern King’s Lane. Several lanes led from Milne Street
down to the river. Milne Street was terminated by Small Bridges Street,
now Silver Street, which crossed the river from Newnham and joined High
Street at St Botolph’s Church.
On the other side of High Street the confusion was even worse. Many
people can remember the days when the broad thoroughfares on either side
of Great St Mary’s were filled with tumble-down houses. This picturesque
and unsanitary state of things was almost the last remnant of medieval
Cambridge. In this rabbit-warren lived many of the tradespeople. The
names of the lanes between High Street and the Market Place are sufficient
testimony. The Sheerer’s Row, north of Great St Mary’s, was continued by
the Shoemaker’s Row, which is now Market Street. The Market Place was
so largely blocked up by this dense mass of houses that it occupied not
more than half of its present site. In its centre was the Conduit; west of the
Conduit was the Cross. The Tolbooth and Prison were on the south of the
space, where the Guildhall is. In front of the Tolbooth were the shambles,
and, east of this savoury neighbourhood Petty Cury, the Little Cookery, led
to Barnwell Gate. From the Market Place, Peas Hill led, as now, to Bene’t
Street, and Bene’t Street led back to High Street, just where King’s Parade
joins Trumpington Street. Free School Lane, at the back of Saint Bene’t’s
Church and Corpus, was called Luthburgh Lane, and the original buildings
of Corpus opened into this and not into Trumpington Street, as at present.
Just before reaching Pembroke, High Street was brought to a stop by
Trumpington Gate, just as Conduit Street was finished by Barnwell Gate.
On the other side of the King’s Ditch were the Church of St Peter and the
foundation of Peterhouse.
Another point which the visitor to medieval Cambridge would notice
would be the abundance of religious houses. Great towns, such as London
or Bristol, were well off in this way, but Cambridge could not compare in
size with these cities. There are few of these houses whose remains we
cannot trace in one or other of the colleges. It became, in the fifteenth
century, the fashion to appropriate the monasteries to purposes of learning.
All the great colleges absorbed some of these institutions. The chief were
outside the King’s Ditch. If accounts are true, the monastery of the
Augustinian Canons at Barnwell must have formed a splendid object in any

prospect of Cambridge. To reach it, one would pass through meadows, with
the nunnery of St Mary and St Rhadegund away to the left. In the southern
part of Barnwell, beyond Barnwell Gate, was the house of Black Friars, on
one side of Preachers’ Street, the faubourg which stretched outside the town
boundaries and formed the southern approach to Cambridge. This friary is
now Emmanuel College. Outside Trumpington Gate was a house of
Gilbertine Canons; and opposite it was the house of Friars of the Sack,
which became incorporated with Peterhouse. In Cambridge itself the Friars
were well represented. The Grey Friars occupied the site of Sidney Sussex
College; the White Friars, that picturesque order which reckoned Elijah as
its patriarch, had a house on part of the site of Queens’ College. The Austin
Friars lived on a piece of ground very nearly corresponding to the
University laboratories, which was entered from Bene’t Street, just where
that street meets Peas Hill. All these friaries were bounded on one side by
water: the Carmelite house met the river; the Franciscan and Augustinian
houses abutted on the ditch. Of these monastic buildings in the town we
have scarcely any trace; their position is merely distinguishable. The
Dominican house was swept away by the founders of Emmanuel, and no
one could detect any monastic remains in the prosaic aspect of that
eminently Puritan college. At Jesus, however, Alcock successfully
preserved the plan of the nunnery; and the college which we see is in
substance a monastic building. Barnwell Priory, with the exception of a
small chantry-chapel, has disappeared. The Augustinian hospital of St John
has been blotted out by St John’s College; its beautiful piscina, incorporated
in Sir Gilbert Scott’s chapel, is its only relic. And, actually, the only
building which has been allowed to stand without alteration is the remote
and melancholy Lepers’ Chapel at Stourbridge, a beautiful Norman
building, which was attached to the Hospital of St Mary Magdalene.
Stourbridge is a good mile beyond Jesus College. In the field close by the
Leper’s Chapel was held the famous Stourbridge Fair, the English
counterpart of Beaucaire and Nijni-Novgorod. There is no doubt that the
medieval Cambridge owed its fame in a very large measure to this annual
mart. It was the most important of a series of fairs in the Eastern Counties—
Tombland Fair at Norwich and the marts of Lynn and Wisbech have still a
certain celebrity—and its interest is largely enhanced by the fact that, after
the dissolution of the leper’s hospital, its original proprietor under a charter
of King John, the University had an official connection with it. It lasted for

a month, from August 24th to September 28th, and during that period
received visits from all the principal merchants in England. It was opened
by the Vice-Chancellor in person and was patronised, perhaps rather noisily,
by the University generally. Its commercial importance is to be gathered
from a passage in Defoe’s Tour of Great Britain, quoted by Mr Atkinson in
his interesting account of the fair. Hops and wool were the two great staples
of trade, and Stourbridge Fair determined the price of hops in England. It
was thus not a mere place of pleasure, but resembled the great nomadic
markets of the east. Anybody who has been to Lynn Mart or to Stourbridge
Fair itself in its sorry old age knows that to-day the great business of the
fairs consists in steam roundabouts and side-shows. The roundabout is a late
development, but the side-show has an honourable antiquity. Stourbridge
Fair boasted, within the last century, a theatre where legitimate Shaksperian
drama was admirably performed by a Norwich company. The performances
were largely attended by the University, and enterprising ladies like Mrs
Frere of Downing were to be seen there with fashionable parties. The story
is often told of “rare Richard Farmer,” Master of Emmanuel, how he and a
few friends, ardent lovers of Shakspere, attended the Stourbridge Theatre
night after night, occupying a bench especially reserved for them.
At Stourbridge Fair University and Town took joint management of the
proceedings. They did not, however, love one another very cordially, and
the Town resented the rights which the University enforced with some
arrogance. “Town and Gown rows” were, in the ordinary course of things,
not very common. When they broke out, they were serious; but usually the
University was much to blame. For example, in James I.’s time, George
Ruggle, fellow of Clare, wrote a play in derision of the town’s folk, to
which the college, with the worst taste, invited the Mayor and Corporation.
But that the town, at any rate in medieval times, watched the growth of the
University with favour, is sufficiently proved by the refoundation of Corpus
Christi College, the work of townspeople. The University repaid the debt in
subsequent years by foundations like Perse’s Grammar School and
Addenbrooke’s Hospital. We must remember that, ecclesiastically, the
connection of town and university was for some centuries very close. The
church of St Mary by the Market was not merely the chapel of King’s Hall;
it was also a parish church, and a large and important gild of merchants had
their chapel within its walls. At first, the colleges were entirely opposed to
the monastic spirit. They did not worship in their own chapels, but joined in

the devotions of the ordinary congregations, going to church just as the
grammar school of any town in England attends the parish church, as a
matter of course. The extreme youth of the scholars completes the
comparison. But, as the colleges grew in riches and numbers, they reverted
to the monastic ideal, and each built its own chapel. The Town and
University drew apart from each other, and the University became the more
important body. Moreover, while the learning of the University grew, the
trade of the town diminished. The gradual diversion of trade from the
Eastern Counties, the decay of ports like Lynn, with whose commerce
Cambridge was inseparably linked, all the changes in the physical
geography of the Fens, reduced the importance of the town. It would be
unfair to assert that Cambridge, as a whole, exists for the sake of the
University; but there is no doubt that the nucleus of the town, its whole
western quarter, is devoted to that purpose, and that, without the University,
it would be of little more importance than Huntingdon or St Ives—of less
importance, probably, than Ely or Wisbech, which are still at the head of an
excellent water-way.
Cambridge, no less than Oxford, took her part in the religious
commotions of the sixteenth century. She was deeply concerned in the
revival of learning. She shares with Oxford the honour of enrolling
Waynflete and Foxe among the members of the University. Bishop Fisher
belongs entirely to her, and, in consequence, Cambridge was the University
which the Lady Margaret favoured more conspicuously. Erasmus taught in
her schools. Even before the Dissolution, she showed, by her appropriation
of religious houses to scholastic purposes, the growth of that liberal spirit
which is thought to be her intellectual distinction. We shall see how pious
Churchmen like Bishop Alcock and a medieval devotee like Lady Margaret
did not scruple to sweep away monasteries for the sake of learning. Even
monasteries themselves, in these later days, followed up their own initiative
and endowed colleges. Several abbeys united to found Buckingham
College. Alcock, by virtue of his episcopal office, was abbot of the great
monastery of Ely. In the great struggle which followed the revival of
learning as its natural outcome, Cambridge contributed her martyrs to both
sides. Fisher died in the defence of a rigid principle. On the other hand,
Cambridge prepared those three reformers who suffered for their opinions
at Oxford. Cranmer was a fellow of Jesus, Ridley was Master of Pembroke,
Latimer belonged to the societies of Christ’s and Clare. It is not at all

surprising that their influence, combined with the constant importation of
Genevan teachers, rendered Cambridge very susceptible for a time to
reformed doctrine of a foreign type. But the final result of the Reformation
in the University is shown by the intellectual freedom of her greatest sons.
Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton are the obvious examples of this, but their
illustrious personalities should not allow us to forget the brilliant ingenuity
of the Cambridge Platonists; while, side by side with the greatest of all we
may place the name of John Milton.
Milton, whose life is very largely bound up with Cambridge, brings us to
another critical point in University history. It is difficult to estimate the
attitude of Cambridge as a whole to the Civil Wars. Oxford remained
faithful to the King, but, while Cambridge possessed no college so
unanimously loyal as St John’s at Oxford, there were one or two colleges,
such as Sidney and Emmanuel, whose sympathies were undeniably Puritan.
An University cannot help a certain amount of conservatism, and
Cambridge sacrificed a great deal in the Stewart cause. A few years ago, at
the exhibition of plate in the Fitzwilliam Museum, one realised the
substantial cost of that sacrifice. But the Fens and the whole neighbourhood
were devoted to the interest of the Parliament, and there were actually few
who surrendered themselves as martyrs to the royalist cause. On the
religious side of the question, however, Cambridge has a good deal to show.
Some of the most eminent Caroline divines are hers. Lancelot Andrewes,
John Cosin, Jeremy Taylor, Peter Gunning, to mention no other names,
were all Cambridge men. George Herbert and Nicholas Ferrar were men of
some academical distinction. But, if it is true that architecture is the best
witness to history, no town in England shows more trace of the Puritan
spirit than Cambridge. While the Oxford buildings of the seventeenth
century are gravely Gothic and semi-ecclesiastical, the only building of this
type in Cambridge is the picturesque chapel at Peterhouse. The library of St
John’s, beautiful though it is, is a hybrid example of the order. Other
seventeenth century work, the work of Ralph Symons, for example, the
court of Clare, and Wren’s masterpieces at Trinity and Emmanuel, are
frankly domestic. Men such as I have mentioned above, belong to a coterie,
but do not represent the general temper of their age.
During the eighteenth century the state of the University was more or less
torpid. It was the age of combination rooms and good port, of hard-and-fast

social distinctions and formal gatherings. The Universities, during this
period, lost their touch with English life, and were not even the forcing-
houses of wit. This is especially true of Cambridge. The first half of the
century is absorbed in the great quarrel between Bentley and his society.
Bentley is unquestionably the most commanding figure of his time at
Cambridge; for Newton by this time belonged chiefly to London. But
Bentley was hated by the great company of wits, who had, for the most part,
little to do with either University. Pope, Swift, Fielding and Richardson, the
four writers who had the greatest influence on their century, were connected
with neither Oxford nor Cambridge. And, from 1750 to 1790, there is very
little to relieve the general dulness which settled over Cambridge. Mr John
Willis Clark, in a delightful and only too short chapter, has revived for us
the social etiquette and pleasures of the period. But the pleasures
themselves are remarkable, for the most part, for their unconscious humour.
And even the epigrams, in spite of their uniform cleverness, are a trifle
heavy.
The French Revolution woke Cambridge from this long sleep. It was an
active stimulant to the imagination. The fall of the Bastille had its effect
upon Wordsworth at St John’s and Coleridge at Jesus; its immediate result,
the general cry for independence, moved Byron at Trinity. The romantic
enthusiasm set in, and with it that love for a liberal education apart from
mechanical scholarship which is so prominent a factor in both Oxford and
Cambridge to-day. In short, the modern life of the University began;
Cambridge began once more to play its part in English intellectual life.
Wordsworth and Tennyson, of all poets, have done most to stimulate the
minds of their countrymen, and both owe no small portion of their personal
influence to Cambridge. And, side by side with this intellectual revival, one
cannot fail to notice the spiritual revival inaugurated by the Wesleys at
Oxford, and naturalised by Charles Simeon at Cambridge. This simply
means the awakening of the University to the other side of her
responsibilities. In the Oxford movement, which was the logical result of
this revival, Cambridge had very little share. Her traditions were somewhat
different from those of Oxford, and her theological tendencies took what is
usually known as a “broader” direction. Her position is indicated by the
names of F. D. Maurice and Charles Kingsley. At the same time, her school
of theology, under Ellicott, Lightfoot, Hort and Westcott, has preserved its
scientific basis and cannot be surpassed in any University. And time would

fail to tell of what triumphs she has won in other fields. Darwin in biology,
Thomson in electricity, Adams in astronomy, are names which tell their own
tale. With these main activities, too, others have grown. The energies of the
University have been expanded in every direction. The multiplication of
open scholarships and prizes, the University Extension system, the
foundation of colleges for women, are only a few of the ways in which her
influence has been doubled throughout Great Britain. And in all this surely
her founders and benefactors have full recompense for their labours—in the
love which the University excites in her sons and in the contribution of each
member to the corporate action of the whole body.

II
THE UNIVERSITY CHURCH

Sᵗ. Mary the Great

T he Church of St Mary-by-the-Market, better known as Great St Mary’s,
is, as it stands at present, a fine example of the latest style of English

architecture. Two churches, when it was built, had already occupied the site.
The first, entirely parochial, was probably built in Norman times, but was
burned down in 1290. By that time, however, the University then emerging
from its embryonic state into actual life, had begun to use it for its
meetings. The church formed, as it were, the earliest Senate House. After
the fire, which, like so many medieval catastrophes, was put down to the
Jews, the structure was renewed in the style of the period. We find that
Thomas de L’Isle, Bishop of Ely, granted a license for the consecration of
the High Altar in 1346; and that, in 1351, the consecration took place under
his successor, Simon of Langham. The chancel still retains some features of
this remodelled church. In the year after the consecration, the Gild of the
Blessed Virgin Mary, parishioners of this church, joined with the Gild of
Corpus Christi in the foundation of Corpus College; and, in 1342, Edward
III. had granted the advowson of St Mary’s to the scholars of King’s Hall.
In this way it happened that, at the subsequent rebuilding of the church, the
town, the University, and the college were equally concerned in it. The
present building was begun in 1478, when John Morton was Bishop of Ely,
and the main structure, roughly speaking, belongs to the period between
that year and 1491. It is supposed that, during this reconstruction, the
services were held in the chancel, which, presumably, was merely
remodelled in the perpendicular manner. The character of the nave is, for its
period, strikingly excellent, and the work is not unlike that at St Nicholas,
Lynn, and other fine churches in the eastern counties. The surface-ornament
in the spandrils of the chancel-arch and nave arcade is exceptionally good,
and the depression of the arches is very slight. Characteristically, the piers
have no capitals, but a small shaft with a plain capital carries the innermost
moulding. But the best feature of the interior is the high, plain clerestory,
from which the church originally received its principal light. This forms, as

it were, a wall of glass running along the upper storey of the church. Its
lowest part is panelled, forming a kind of mock triforium. On the whole,
there are few more stately churches of the date in England.

Although this nave was completed in 1491, it was not ready for service
till 1519, when the nave was seated and the Great Rood suspended from the
chancel-arch. Meanwhile, the tower had been begun in 1491, and
progressed very slowly. In 1515 it was at a standstill and had a thatched
roof. The west window, however, which, considering that it belongs to
Henry VIII.’s reign, is surprisingly good Gothic, was glazed by 1536. After
this time a certain amount of work went on, and the tower was carried up to
the string-course. In 1576, Sir Walter Mildmay gave twenty tons of
freestone towards the building, which was employed in erecting a
somewhat heavy Italianised porch at the west end. This, with its great
pediment and the clock above it, filled up the space between the buttresses
and reached up to the sill of the west window. Sir Walter Mildmay promised
other materials for the completion of the tower by a stone spire. This never
took place, and, in 1593, the parish decided to add a final storey on their
own account, which was completed in 1596. This storey, with its octagonal
corner-turrets and debased windows, is nevertheless in no violent contrast
to the work below. In 1608, the turrets were completed and stone balls were
placed upon the pinnacles by Robert Grumbold, to whom we owe the balls
on Clare Bridge.

The last internal addition to the church was the magnificent rood-loft,
finished in 1523. It extended not only across the chancel-arch, but across
the northern arch, leading to the Chapel of St Andrew, and the southern,
leading to the Chapel of Our Lady. These chapels were further separated
from the chancel by parclose-screens. The contract states that the rood-lofts
at Thriplow, south of Cambridge, and at Gazeley, between Newmarket and

Bury St Edmunds, were the models used for this structure. It must have
been something like the great rood-lofts which still exist in Devonshire and
parts of Norfolk. In the middle, below the rood-beam and facing the choir,
was the University pulpit. But this screen, with its elaborate furniture, its
“yomages,” candles and gilding did not have a long existence. It was
destroyed by Archbishop Parker, that sworn enemy of rood-lofts, in 1562.
However, during the Laudian revival, in 1640, another chancel-screen was
erected, part of which remains across the chapel of St Andrew. Its fine
composition and carving are characteristic of the Stewart era. Another and
even better screen of a somewhat earlier date is to be seen in the church of
Tilney All Saints, near Lynn. However, this screen perished in its turn, not
at the hands of the zealot Dowsing, who destroyed as much as he could, but
under the gentle influence of Georgian restorers. It appears that, after the
Reformation, the University sermon became more of an institution than it
had been, and was no longer preached to the chancel. Great St Mary’s was,
however, put to other and more secular uses. Laud was informed that the
body of the church was seated like a theatre; that the pulpit was placed in
the middle and called the Cock-pit; that at sermon-time the chancel was
filled with boys and townsmen “and other whiles (thereafter as the Preacher
is) with Townswomen also, all in a rude heap between the Doctors and the
Altar”; that the “Service there (which is done by Trin. Coll.) is commonly
posted over and cut short at the pleasure of him that is sent thither to read
it.” Divers other informations were laid against the state of the church. It
certainly seems curious to our own day that the Commencements should
have been held in church, and that the feeble buffoonery of the
“Prevaricator” should have been, under these circumstances, their leading
feature. The feeling against these extraordinary ceremonies led to the
building of the Senate House, which was large enough for disputations as

well as meetings of the senate. But Sir James Burrough, to whom the Senate
House is partly due, did his best to spoil the University Church. The screen
of 1640, which, with its spirelets and canopies, must have been very like the
Laudian screens remaining in one or two northern churches,[1] was taken
down; and the church was devoted entirely to the cult of the sermon. Mr
William Worts had previously left a legacy to the University, which was
employed in erecting the present galleries (1735). The Cock-pit was
remodelled, and the centre of the church was filled with an immense
octagonal pulpit on the “three-decker” principle, the crowning glory and
apex of which was approached, like a church-tower, by an internal staircase.
About 1740, Burrough filled the chancel-arch and chancel with a permanent
gallery, which commanded a thorough view of this object. The gallery,
known as the “Throne” was an extraordinary and unique erection. The royal
family of Versailles never worshipped more comfortably than did the Vice-
Chancellor and heads of houses, in their beautiful arm-chairs, and the
doctors, sitting on the tiers of seats behind them. In this worship of the
pulpit, the altar was quite disregarded, and Cole the antiquary remarked
sorrowfully on this discreditable fact. Undergraduates, whose power of
expression was not equal to their sense of humour, irreverently called the
Throne Golgotha, because the heads of houses sat there. The church thus
became an oblong box, with the organ at one end, the Throne at the other,
and the pulpit between them. The portentous array of bevelled and panelled
oak plunged the church in darkness, and so, in 1766, the aisle windows
were altered and the present meagre insertions made.

This domestic comfort pervaded the church until 1863. The Camden
Society destroyed the picturesque top of the tower in 1842, but did not
touch the interior of the church. In 1851 Sir Gilbert Scott took away
Mildmay’s porch, and substituted for it the present west door. Much about

the same time, the ground round St Mary’s was cleared of houses. Dr
Luard, the late registrary, who was then Vicar, agitated for the removal of
the “throne” for a long time, and at last the work of reconstruction began.
The present nave-seats and chancel-stalls, in a somewhat florid style, were
put in, and the only remains of the old preaching-house were the galleries
and the organ at the west end. This organ, which dates from 1698, and is in
part the work of Father Smith, was rebuilt by Messrs Hill in 1870. In 1888
the south porch was rebuilt on the lines of a porch which had been
destroyed in 1783. Under the present vicar, Dr Cunningham, the work of
restoration has advanced. The tower has been thoroughly repaired, and a
new organ has been built for parochial services on the south side of the
choir. Further, the late Mr Sandars, who did so much for the University,
filled in the lower part of the aisle windows with the arms of those
noblemen and prelates who subscribed to the nave between 1478 and 1519.
These windows, which are by Messrs Powell, are full of interesting matter
for the student of monastic heraldry. Messrs Powell are similarly engaged in
filling the clerestory windows with admirable figure-glass. Altogether,
during the last half-century, the church has returned some way towards its
original design. There is now a side altar in St Andrew’s Chapel, which is
used as the chapel of the Clergy Training-School; the Lady Chapel is
occupied by the vestry. And, finally, one must not forget the “Cambridge
chimes” in the tower, which were composed in 1790 by Dr Jowett of garden
fame, and are the model of all such chimes throughout England.

III
PETERHOUSE

F rom the churchyard of Little St Mary’s Church a good idea of the
medieval buildings of Peterhouse may be obtained. Unfortunately,
James Essex was allowed to do as he liked with the old court somewhere
about 1770, and faced it in the hideous, commonplace style of the time. It is
astonishing that he allowed the back of the older building, so out of
harmony with the cherished classical unities of his day, to remain in so
conspicuous a position. But the obvious history of the buildings begins with
Dr Andrew Perne’s library, whose later extension with its gabled end and
oriel is such a picturesque object in the perspective of Trumpington Street,
and contrasts so oddly with the Corinthian portico of the Fitzwilliam
Museum, just beyond. Perne’s work is in that familiar, country-house style
which, rather later, we associate in Cambridge with the name of Ralph
Symons. The building of 1590 forms the eastern extension of the Hall and
Combination Room. It was prolonged in 1632 to stand flush with the
present street-pavement. Bishop Matthew Wren made a more notable and
more characteristic addition. He built the chapel, which was consecrated in
1632, on a site in the eastern half of the court, just midway between the two
wings. At the same time he united his building to the wings by an open
cloister supporting a covered gallery. The chapel and cloisters, which divide
the court into two unequal halves, have a good deal of picturesqueness, but
they are built in a very stilted Italian manner, full of shallow late Gothic
detail. The chapel has a considerable reputation founded on its stained glass
windows, which are by Professor Aimmüller of Munich. They are
astonishing specimens of their art, and reflect the taste of the middle of the

century very well. An excellent Flemish east window, contemporary with
the building, is usually considered to harmonise very ill with these
productions, whose qualities, nevertheless, it considerably enhances.

Sᵗ. Peter’s College

Under the Georgian régime Peterhouse suffered a great deal. Sir James
Burrough of Caius, then neither Master nor a Knight, had a grand plan for
taking down Perne’s library and Wren’s cloisters and putting up buildings of
his own. Happily, the funds for this undertaking allowed him to finish only
the imposing northern wing, next to Little St Mary’s Church. Like most of
his work, this wing, completed in 1742, is in very good taste, and the
influence of Gibbs’ building at King’s is to be traced throughout. Nearly
half a century later came Essex with a neat taste acquired, perhaps, in the
neighbourhood of St Marylebone, and made a beautiful structure
exceptionally ugly. Last of all, Mr Francis Gisborne’s trustees, after his
death in 1821, built a new western court in the then fashionable sort of

Gothic with a part of £20,000 bequeathed to the College in his will. This
court calls for little remark.
Too late to stay the hand of the spoiler, the Gothic revival has
nevertheless done much for Peterhouse. Mr Gilbert G. Scott in 1870 rebuilt
the Hall and Combination Room and incorporated in them the remains of
the medieval Master’s Lodge, which had been long ago superseded by the
comfortable brick house just across Trumpington Street. Good, unassuming
and appropriate work in themselves, these buildings are further decorated
with some very successful stained glass by the late Sir Edward Burne-Jones
and Mr William Morris. The bright oriel of the Hall is especially beautiful,
and the small figures of poets and of the good women of Chaucer’s dream
in the windows of the comfortable parlour, share, with the chapel glass, the
impartial admiration of the visitor. It is satisfactory to think that this
historical college has received some compensation for all the damage
inflicted on it.

I
n 1281 Hugh de Balsham, Bishop of Ely, founded St Peter’s College. The
reign of Edward I. is the date from which our universities derive their
organisation, and in many other ways it marks an epoch in English
history. Walter de Merton, Bishop of Rochester, had, seventeen years
before, founded Merton College at Oxford.[2] It was therefore emulation
which, to a certain extent, inspired Hugh de Balsham in his new departure.
He was a native of Cambridgeshire: his native place is about ten miles
distant from Cambridge, on the confines of Essex; and he had probably
received his education in one of the numerous religious houses which filled
the Cambridge of that period. As Bishop of Ely, and therefore as titular
abbot of the monastery, he had much to do with the monastic institutions of
the town, and it was only natural that, with Walter de Merton’s example
before his eyes, he should wish to make his name famous in the same way.
He lived just long enough to see the college established and in a fair way to
success, with a master and fourteen scholars in residence. His successors at
Ely continued his favours to the college, and during the next century we

find the names of Bishops Simon Montague, Thomas de L’Isle, Simon
Langham and John de Fordham among the benefactors. It is interesting to
note how purely local University education must have been at first.
Although the first two masters of Peterhouse appear to have been natives of
distant parts of England, the names of most of the masters during the
fourteenth century recall the neighbouring fenland. Roger of Mildenhall,
Ralph of Holbeach, William of Whittlesea, Richard of Wisbech, John of
Bottisham, all are natives of Cambridgeshire or the counties immediately
adjoining. Thomas of Barnard’s Castle, who became master in 1400, takes
us further north, and he is the last of the list who derives his surname from
his native place.
The early history of Peterhouse is concerned chiefly with its buildings.
Under the rule of John Holbrook (1418-1431) and during the long
mastership of Dr Thomas Lane (1431-73) the college assumed a definite
shape. The old buildings north of it belong to Holbrook’s mastership. It took
in the house of the Friars of the Sack, which existed on part of its site, and
thus set a precedent which was followed almost universally—the
substitution of learned foundations for monasteries and convents. The
Peterhouse of that day, substantially the building of our own time, was
scarcely in Cambridge. St Peter’s Church lay north of it, and was itself just
outside the Trumpington or South Gate of the town. It had given its name to
the college, and was used as its chapel from the earliest period. About the
beginning of Edward III.’s reign, the church was pulled down, and the
present beautiful church of St Mary’s the Less was built on its site, the
college still continuing to use it as their place of worship. We may assume
that the scholars were required to assist at mass every morning and at the
parochial mass on Sundays, and that they formed, as it were, the choir,
using the chancel stalls. They entered the church by the passage and
staircase which still exist south of the chancel.
No famous names occur in connection with the college before the
Reformation. The early sixteenth century produced a good number of
benefactors, and Hugh de Balsham’s original provisions were considerably
amplified. In 1553 Andrew Perne became master. His fame is largely local,
but he is a very significant figure in an age chiefly remarkable for the
strength of its religious convictions. His mastership begins at the end of
Edward VI.’s reign, and lasted for thirty-six years. He combined with it the

Deanery of Ely, and showed great sagacity in the tenure of both offices.
During Mary’s reign, he was Chancellor of the University, and under his
auspices the burning of Bucer’s and Fagius’ remains took place. However,
although this somewhat unnecessary act of vengeance might have stamped
his opinions, he seems to have veered at the accession of Elizabeth with
great suppleness, and to have trimmed his sails to the royal wind up to the
day of his death. The wits of the University made his accommodating
policy their butt, and, with the heavy wit of the day, coined the verb
pernare, which signified “to turn one’s coat.” Perne, although he possibly
merits some contempt, made nevertheless a very good use of his
unscrupulous comfort. I have already mentioned his additions to the
college. He also originated that water-supply which is now so ornamental a
feature in certain parts of the town. The broad gutters along which streams
run down Trumpington Street for most of the year were not constructed till
after his death, but it was he who first suggested that healthy water might be
brought from the neighbouring Gogmagog Hills.
To the society of Peterhouse, for some years of Perne’s time, belonged
the celebrated John Whitgift. Whitgift was an example of a system which
has now ceased to a great extent in Cambridge. He was an undergraduate of
Queens’ to begin with; he then obtained a fellowship at Peterhouse, and was
in succession Master of Pembroke and Trinity before his elevation to a
bishoprick. His connection with Peterhouse is very passing, but, while a
member of the college, he held the Lady Margaret Professorship of
Divinity. In 1567, when he became Master of Pembroke, he vacated it for
the Regius Professorship, which he held until his translation to the See of
Worcester. At the same time Peterhouse held also another professor, Dr
Thomas Lorkin, who occupied the Regius Chair of Physic. Professorships
were then commonly held with other offices, and John Richardson, fellow
of Emmanuel, who was Master of Peterhouse from 1609 to 1615 was also
Regius Professor of Divinity.
Richardson became Master of Trinity in 1615. In the time of his
successor, Thomas Turner, one of Peterhouse’s most celebrated sons was in
residence, the poet Richard Crashaw. The beginning of the sixteenth century
found many poets at Cambridge, of whom Crashaw is certainly not the least
remarkable. Like George Herbert, who was some twenty years his senior,
he was brought up in the traditions of the Church of England, but scarcely

had time to prove his principles before the outbreak of the Civil War. He
was by temperament a mystic, and his early love-poems show a certain
religious tendency. It is probable that his study of St Theresa and the bigotry
of the Puritan party drove him, between them, into the Church of Rome. He
eventually took orders and died as a Canon of Loreto. His mystical poems
have become very fashionable of late years, and he certainly deserves a
very high place among our lyric poets. He was also a musician. Although
we know little of his life at Cambridge, it is certain that he must have been a
prominent figure in the intellectual life of a period when University life was
entirely intellectual.
In 1632 the chapel was finished and was consecrated in the next year by
Bishop Francis White of Ely. Next year the master, Dr Matthew Wren, was
succeeded by Dr John Cosin. The new master was one of the most acute
theologians of the century, and was deeply impressed, like most
contemporary churchmen, with the possibilities of the Church of England.
He was one of the first to vindicate its position and maintain its orders as
valid. His proceedings at Peterhouse were hardly popular. Cambridge has
never been guilty of over-rating external forms of worship, and, in the case
of Cosin, she showed her indignation very plainly. The Puritans were
furious at his ritual; they complained of his bowings and genuflexions, and
of the crucifix he set up over the altar of his chapel. In 1643 the iconoclast
Dowsing paid a visit to Cambridge, and used the most drastic remedies at
Peterhouse. Fortunately, the beautiful east window, which would have
provoked his zealous wrath, was hidden by the Society and escaped
damage. Cosin was ejected by Parliament in 1644, and for sixteen years the
college was ruled by Lazarus Seaman. Cosin returned at the Restoration,
and the “idols” were restored to their proper place. But in the same year
Cosin was rewarded for his long exile with the See of Durham. In the
magnificent chapel which he built at Auckland Castle, we may trace in
some measure his affection to Peterhouse; for its beautiful late Gothic was
doubtless suggested by Dr Wren’s chapel.
Cosin has had no very conspicuous successors. He was the last Master of
Peterhouse but one who became a bishop. His immediate predecessors,
Leonard Maw and Matthew Wren, were both translated to bishopricks:
Maw to Bath and Wells, and Wren, whose name is most famous, to Ely.
During the time of Dr Law,* Bishop of Carlisle, who was master from 1754

to 1788, and filled for a short time the chair of Moral Philosophy, the poet
Gray was obliged to change his residence to Pembroke. Gray is one of those
persons, uncommon in the last century, who saw beauty in nature, and he
became a kind of artistic apostle at Cambridge. This position, which usually
connotes a superiority amounting to superciliousness, did not render him
popular at Peterhouse. He had a horror of fire, and kept a fire-escape
attached to his window. One night, some of the more normal members of
the college raised an alarm of fire, and Gray descended his fire-escape into
a bucket of water which had been prepared for him. Having all that lack of
humour which is distinctive of æsthetic reformers, he migrated to
Pembroke, where he seems to have been better appreciated than in his own
college. He lived in Pembroke for the last twenty-five years of his life, and,
for the last three (1768-71), was Regius Professor of Modern History.
Dr Law died in 1788, and was succeeded by Dr Francis Barnes,* who
continued in his seat for fifty years, holding, like his predecessor, the
Professorship of Moral Philosophy from 1813 to his death in 1838. Then Dr
Hodgson was master for nine years, and his successor, Dr Cookson, was
succeeded in 1876 by the present Master. Among the notable men of the
present day Peterhouse claims the Archbishop of York and Lord Kelvin.*
Through Lord Kelvin’s generosity, it was the first college in Cambridge to
use electric light. None of the rest have adopted this modern improvement
till quite recently, and even now it is by no means general. Peterhouse,
however, has kept up its traditions and occupies a leading place in the
history of scientific progress: for, beside Lord Kelvin, its books contain the
names of the mathematician Dr Routh* and the well-known Professor
Dewar (* Orchardson).

IV
CLARE COLLEGE

Clare College

L oggan, in his invaluable Cantabrigia Illustrata, gives us two views of
the court of Clare, the first a bird’s-eye view of the whole building, the
second an elevation of the north side, as it was completed at the end of
Queen Anne’s reign. The college had to pass through some trouble before
its buildings were completed. After its foundation in 1342, a court was built
which lasted till 1525. It was then injured by fire. The remains were taken
down, and preparations were made for a new building, which was not
begun till 1638, an unfortunate period. During the Civil Wars, the work was
at a standstill, and the north side, built principally during the mastership of
Dr Samuel Blythe (1678-1713), was not actually finished till 1715. Sir

George Downing, then a fellow commoner, contributed to its completion.
Later, in 1769, the present Chapel was built from the designs of the Master
of Caius, Sir James Burrough. Clare thus presents examples of three distinct
periods in Renaissance work. The earliest portion is the eastern side of the
court with the gateway, the beauty of which cannot be too highly praised.
The style is the fantastic Italian Gothic of the period, mixed largely with
classical forms; but the work is free from what Mr Ruskin would call
insincerity. It is useful to compare it with the chapel at Peterhouse,
consecrated five years before this was begun. Its characteristics are those of
all the cultured work of the early Stewart period, and have points in
common with a building like Ingestre Hall near Stafford, which has
unfortunately perished by fire. The south side is of the same date; the
admirable proportions of this part of the court may be seen from the
grounds of King’s. On the western side is a building of the time of Charles
II. and James II. Its inner face harmonises fairly well with the rest, but
debased forms, such as the meaningless broken arch, appear. The river front
is pure Palladian, and the effect of the order of pilasters which runs through
the two upper stories is very harsh. The northern face of the court is good,
solid, ugly Queen Anne work, which has, of late years, been spoiled rather
than improved. On this side is the Hall with great sash-windows, which the
famous Clare creeper does not succeed in hiding. The Chapel is a plain
building of excellent proportions. Internally, it has most of the virtues and
faults of a Georgian college chapel: the domical antechapel is an original
feature. On the whole, Clare, which covers less ground than most colleges,
is, architecturally, among the best; but it is a pity that all was not carried out
in the style of the western side, which is almost unrivalled in any country,
considering its date. The celebrated bridge, not unlike the Kitchen Bridge at
St John’s, belongs to the reign of Charles I. and is therefore contemporary

with the older part of the court. It is well set off by its charming
surroundings. The architect of this bridge, completed in 1640, was Robert
Grumbold, who was master-mason to the college, and worked at Great St
Mary’s as well as at Clare.

Clare Bridge

T
he idea of Clare Hall originated with Richard de Badew, who, in 1326,
while Chancellor of the University, founded a small college called
University Hall. The first master of this new foundation was Walter of
Thaxted. But, in the twelfth year of its existence, the college was burned
down. Usually the present college dates its foundation from 1338, when the
rebuilding began, but the actual date at which Elizabeth de Burgh took over
the foundation was 1342. She was daughter and coheir of Gilbert, Count of
Clare, Hertford and Gloucester. Clare lies on the border of Suffolk and
Essex, and the college was essentially an Essex colony. Two of the early
masters, Walter of Thaxted and William of Radwinter, came from villages
in the same part of the county, and their names, occurring not far apart,
argue a certain feeling in favour of natives of the district. There was for a
long time a tradition that Clare Hall was the Soler Hall of Chaucer’s Reve’s

Tale, but it is not necessary to suppose that Chaucer had any particular
college in his mind. His use of the epithet “great” may point to Clare and
distinguish it from the numerous hostels which were then springing up in
Cambridge; but there can be no certainty on the point. Chaucer merely
borrowed a tale from Boccaccio and put it into English dress, without any
particular accuracy of detail.
Clare has, on the whole, no very momentous annals. Hugh Latimer,* the
famous Bishop of Worcester, was a member of this foundation, and, as
Fellow of Clare, preached in St Edward’s Church. Until the foundation of
King’s, the chapel of Clare was the parish church of St John the Baptist,
which stood on the south side of the college. After St John’s had been
removed to make way for King’s, Clare shared the possession of St
Edward’s Church with Trinity Hall. Latimer, however, is by no means the
typical theologian of Clare. The worthies of the college are chiefly
religious, and, a century after, it contributed to the Laudian revival. When
James I. paid his visit to Cambridge, he was entertained with a comedy at
Clare. The name of the piece was “Ignoramus” and its author was Mr
George Ruggle, one of the society. It satirised the civil law, which was then
doing its best to oust the canon law, and James, who always had a keen
sympathy for the obsolete, was hugely delighted. Some years before,
Ruggle had satirised the townsfolk in a play called Club-Law, to which the
Corporation were invited. The absence of good feeling which marked such
an invitation explains the “town and gown rows” common at this period.
A less festive spirit than George Ruggle was Nicholas Ferrar,* who
appears at Clare about the same time. Ferrar ranks with Herbert and
Crashaw as the third of the mystics and pietists whom Cambridge sent out
during the seventeenth century. He became famous as the head of what he
called the “Protestant Nunnery.” It was established at Little Gidding, an out-
of-the-way village in Huntingdonshire, and consisted of Ferrar, some
members of his family, and some near relations, who devoted themselves to
contemplation and works of piety. The neighbourhood of Little Gidding to
Cambridge was probably felt in the University, and there is the strongest
probability that men like Cosin and Andrewes came over from Cambridge
very often, and went into retreat, as we say, with Ferrar. A man of this type
was the great Peter Gunning,* Fellow of Clare and Lady Margaret Professor

of Divinity. In 1661 he exchanged his offices for those of Regius Professor
and Master of Corpus, which he soon left for St John’s.
While the new court of Clare was building, the Commonwealth came,
and with it the mastership of Ralph Cudworth. This profound thinker held
the chair of Hebrew with his mastership, and continued to hold it till his
death in 1688. He is certainly one of the most extraordinary figures of his
age at Cambridge, but his history and that of the band whose leader he was,
belong more properly to the annals of Christ’s. Almost a contemporary of
Cudworth’s was Archbishop Tillotson,* who, at this date in his career, was
a Puritan, like many of the youth at Cambridge. He later found his true
vocation in the Church of England, and his sermons have achieved a greater
fame than Cudworth’s abstract treatises, although their merits are perhaps
less.
Theophilus Dillingham succeeded Cudworth, and was Archdeacon of
Bedford as well as master. He continued the buildings, and a successful
completion was reached under the subsequent mastership of Samuel Blythe.
From this time forward the history of Clare was peaceful and monotonous.
It produced a very eccentric son in William Whiston, known as the
admirable translator of Josephus. Whiston was an astronomer and a
proficient mathematician. He preceded Sir Isaac Newton as Lucasian
Professor, resigning his chair in 1711. He was always open to the influence
of new and uncommon theories, and died a Baptist with a strong tendency
to Fifth-Monarchy principles.
Clare was the college of that famous statesman, Thomas Holles Pelham,*
Duke of Newcastle, whose personal peculiarities are ridiculed in Smollett’s
Humphrey Clinker. Pelham was Chancellor of the University from 1748 to
1768, having previously filled the office of High Steward. His
Chancellorship is the last important event in the history of the College. It
has, since then, under the fortunate and prolonged rule of four masters,
extending over a century and a half, maintained its ancient prestige, and
now, although one of the smallest of the colleges in point of buildings, the
number of its undergraduates is exceptionally large and shows no signs of
decreasing. Among its present members it numbers several men of great
eminence, of whom, to Cambridge men, the most familiar is the present
Woodwardian Professor, Dr McKenny Hughes.

V
PEMBROKE COLLEGE

M odern architects have taken such delight in seeing what can be done
with Pembroke that we have scarcely any vestiges of the old building.
The long, low street front of the first court, a reminiscence of Oxford, with
its double oriel, was refaced in 1726. It was the era of Gibbs and Burrough,
and the treatment is therefore thoroughly conservative. But since then,
Archbishop Rotherham’s fine, monastic plan has been ruthlessly spoiled.
The oldest existing part is the Ivy Court, a pretty double range of rooms at
the back of the Hall. The north side dates from 1633; the south, or Hitcham
Building, from 1659, at which period Rotherham’s Library still formed the
upper storey of the Hall, and the Chapel stood in the north-west corner of
the first court. Bishop Wren’s chapel superseded the latter building after the
Restoration. It was consecrated in 1667, and is in curious contrast with the
same prelate’s chapel of 1632 at Peterhouse. His nephew, the great Sir
Christopher Wren, was the architect of this building and the adjoining
cloister, which is so pleasant a feature of the western side of the court.
Wren’s genius is clearly visible in the stately unpretentious exterior; but
inside, the chapel is cold and ineffective. Stained glass of the type which
has been employed at the east end of St Paul’s Cathedral, is wanted to
complete the design.

Pembroke College

Pembroke escaped Essex and Wilkins, but it can hardly be congratulated
on what it has acquired instead. The south side of the old court has
perished; the quaint two-storied building which contained the Hall and
Library, has disappeared, and, instead, we have the modern Hall, a very
insignificant Gothic apartment quite out of keeping with the traditions of
Pembroke. Mr Waterhouse’s street front, south of the chapel, is quite the
worst modern building in Cambridge so far as appearance goes; his library
and clock-tower are, fortunately, in a not very obtrusive position. Of late
years, Mr G. G. Scott has built a very pretty court in a French Renaissance
style at the back of the college, where Downing Street meets Tennis Court
Lane, but, in building the Laboratory opposite in precisely the same style,
he has committed an error which he would have done well to avoid. This
court belongs to 1883; the Master’s Lodge, between it and the rest of the
college, is by Waterhouse, and was finished ten years earlier.

“O Domus antiqua et religiosa!” said Queen Elizabeth, as she passed by
the gates of Pembroke Hall. Very few colleges deserve the epithet
better, for Pembroke has been one of the most religious of all
Cambridge foundations, and its history is closely connected with the
Church. Like Clare, Pembroke owes its origin to a woman. Marie de St
Paul, daughter of Guy, Count of St Paul and Châtillon, married Aymer de
Valence, Earl of Pembroke. There is a legend that the Earl was killed at a
tournament on his wedding day, and Gray embodied the tradition in his
noble Installation Ode—

“Sad Châtillon, on her bridal morn,
That wept her princely love.”

History, however, has made short work with this story. At all events, after
her husband’s death, the Countess retired from the world, and, among other
charitable works, founded Pembroke Hall or, as she called it, the Hall of
Valence-Mary. This name did not continue long in use; the college was very
soon known, on the analogy of Clare, as Pembroke Hall, and the title of
College was given to it in the last century. The foundation dates from 1347,
when a Master, fifteen scholars and four Bible-clerks were established on
the present site. Robert de Thorpe was first master.
Pembroke is intimately connected with the revival of learning in
England. Henry VI. contributed generously to the foundation, and
practically set it upon a new footing. Laurence Booth, who became master
in 1450 and held the office until his death, was a man of great learning. His
ecclesiastical promotion was rapid; he became Bishop of Durham in 1457,
and Archbishop of York in 1476. Thomas Rotherham* succeeded him as
Archbishop of York and Master of Pembroke. Rotherham, whose actual
surname was Scott, was one of the most active promoters of learning in
England. He had previously filled the sees of Rochester and Lincoln, and
was Archbishop of York for twenty-one years. While Bishop of Lincoln, he
had built the east side of the University Library, and he became the second
founder of Lincoln College at Oxford. As Lord Chancellor of England, his
political career was stormy. Fuller, in speaking of his library at Pembroke,
says “Many have mistaken this for the performance of Richard the Third,
merely because his Crest the Boar is set up therein. Whereas the truth is that
Rotheram having felt the sharp Tuskes of that Boar (when imprisoned by

the aforesaid King for resigning the Great Seal of England to Queen
Elizabeth, the relict of King Edward the Fourth) advanced his arms thereon
that he might ingratiate himself.” Rotherham fell on more peaceful days
when Henry VII. came to the throne. He resigned the mastership in 1488,
and died of the plague at Cawood in 1501.
Curiously enough, the next master but two, Richard Foxe (* copy of
Oxford pictures) founded Corpus Christi College at Oxford, just as
Rotherham had re-founded Lincoln. He was at that time Master of
Pembroke and Bishop of Winchester. Foxe was one of the greatest prelates
of that great age. His benefactions to learning were innumerable and
priceless; three colleges at Oxford and three at Cambridge count him among
their benefactors; his splendid chantry at Winchester, one of the finest
pieces of Renaissance sculpture which we possess, is entirely characteristic
of this princely ecclesiastic. His enlightened religious views made him the
friend and patron of the great scholars who flourished during the reign of
Henry VII. He was also remarkable for his political activity; he was the
chief agent in the establishment of the Tudor dynasty, and was one of the
supporters of the throne against Perkin Warbeck’s rebellion. Ford, in his
historical drama of Perkin Warbeck, drew Foxe’s character with admirable
force. He died in 1528, old and almost blind, but still retaining all his vigour
and adhering to his bishoprick with great tenacity. Foxe may be regarded as
one of our earliest and wisest Reformers: he died too early for the final
quarrel with Rome, but there can hardly be any doubt that he would have
exerted his influence to prevent a formal breach.
A reformer of a different kind was Nicholas Ridley,* master from 1540 to
1553, and Bishop of London during the last three of these thirteen years. It
is easy to see the tendencies which the enthusiasm of Rotherham and Foxe
for the New Learning had directed, in the fact that Bradford* and Rogers,
also martyrs for Protestantism, were members of this college. After
Elizabeth’s accession, Edmund Grindal,* a Protestant of a somewhat
extreme type, became master for three years, during which, like Ridley, he
held the see of London. He resigned the mastership in 1562. In 1570 he was
translated from London to York, and in 1575 became Archbishop of
Canterbury. His successor at Pembroke was the equally famous Matthew
Hutton, a learned theologian. His life was closely connected with
Cambridge; he took his bachelor’s degree in 1551, and ten years later,

became Margaret Professor. Becoming head of Pembroke in the following
year, he obtained the Regius Professorship of Divinity. He also was married
twice to ladies of the neighbourhood. His first wife, Katherine Fulmetby,
was niece to Bishop Goodrich of Ely; his second, Beatrice Fincham, also
came from Ely. In 1567 he was made Dean of York and left Pembroke. His
preferment was almost entirely due to his scholastic disputations before
Elizabeth on her visit to Cambridge. While at York, he married a third time,
with the true zeal of a post-Reformation prelate for the married state. He
was made Bishop of Durham in 1589 and was translated to York in 1594.
His effigy, brilliantly painted and attired in the costume of an Elizabethan
prelate, stands upright against the south wall of the choir at York Minster.
Whitgift’s mastership, lasting for a few months in 1567, gives another
Archbishop to Pembroke. But he soon left the college for Trinity. Twenty-
two years later, Lancelot Andrewes* became master. As Bishop
successively of Chichester, Ely and Winchester, his name is familiar to
students of the Laudian movement. He was one of those great men who, by
their spirituality rather than their energy, vindicated the Church of England
from Papal claims on one side and from Genevan doctrine on the other. He
is buried, as is well known, in the Collegiate Church of St Saviour at
Southwark. His influence is noticeable in the characters of his immediate
successors. Samuel Harsnet, master from 1605 to 1616, was also Bishop of
Chichester from 1609 to 1619 and of Norwich from 1619 to 1629; and
distinguished himself in all these offices by his peaceful and devout spirit.
Nicholas Felton,* Bishop of Bristol, was master from 1616 to 1618, and
Bishop of Ely from 1619 to 1628. His next successor but one, Benjamin
Laney,* was a stout Royalist, and was conspicuous for his fidelity to the
exiled King during the Commonwealth. At the Restoration, he received
much recompense. He was made Bishop of Peterborough in 1660, Bishop
of Lincoln in 1663, and Bishop of Ely in 1667. This unique example of
promotion in the Eastern sees closes the list of Pembroke bishops for some
time. Since then, the most famous prelate connected with the college has
been Edward Maltby,* Bishop of Chichester in 1831 and of Durham from
1836 to 1856. He was the first of the Bishops of Durham under the
regulations by which at the death of Bishop Van Mildert, the Prince-
Bishoprick was finally disestablished.

While these “men of much motion and promotion” were occupying the
mastership of the college, the foundation was not without its famous sons.
They are not, however, very many, and the chief lustre of the college seems
to have found its centre in the master. Richard Crashaw was in residence
here for some time, doubtless attracted by the saintly fame of the masters of
the Stewart epoch. But undoubtedly the greatest son of the college is
Edmund Spenser,* who entered the house probably during Hutton’s
mastership. Of this splendid name Pembroke may well be proud, although it
has no very intimate relation with the life of the University. Bishop
Matthew Wren,* Master of Peterhouse, was a fellow here. His benefactions
are remarkable; they include the fine chapel. He also bequeathed his silver
mitre to the College; and this, although somewhat ugly in itself, is one of
the most valuable pieces of plate in Cambridge.
Passing over the age of Anne and George I. we come to the long
mastership of Dr Roger Long (* Benj. Wilson) who ruled the college from
1733 to 1770. Long became Lowndean Professor of Astronomy in 1750.
His astronomical studies were commemorated at Pembroke by a hollow
sphere of metal, which had a diameter of eighteen feet and was a complete
guide to the solar system. It was contained in a building which terminated
the north side of the second court, but it was destroyed in 1871. Dr Long
was also much interested in the liberal arts; he was a musician and
mechanic; he was also a wit of a not very refined order. His “Musick
Speech” delivered in Great St Mary’s at the Commencement of 1714, is
quoted in Mr J. W. Clark’s book on Cambridge. He was then fellow of his
college. As master, he was a friend of Thomas Gray. When that sensitive
poet left Peterhouse, he met with a royal reception at Pembroke, which
proves that the college was progressive in the direction of culture. Gray
joined the society, and resided in the second court for fifteen years. His
rooms were famous for their comfort in a day when no one thought of
furnishing a room with more than a table and a few chairs, and the blue pots
in his window were the wonder of Cambridge. He was devoted to his
adopted college, and the influence of its structure may be traced in several
passages of his poems. From 1768 to 1771, he held the chair of Modern
History. There are one or two portraits of him in the college. That by
Benjamin Wilson, now in the Combination Room, was painted after his
death. Another poet, his close friend and personal admirer, William Mason
(* Reynolds) belonged to the society for many years, and died in 1797.

If among poets Pembroke claims Spenser, she can also claim William Pitt
among statesmen. There are two portraits of the illustrious Prime Minister,
one, by Harlow, in the Hall; the other, by Gainsborough, in the Combination
Room. Pitt is, however, the property not so much of a single college as of
the University, whose politics have been largely directed by his memory.
His name is preserved in the Pitt Club, which was established soon after his
death and took his coat of arms. It is to-day the best social club in the
University, and has rooms in Jesus Lane. In later years, Pembroke elected
John Couch Adams (* Herkomer), the discoverer of Neptune, to a
fellowship, thus adding to a list which, if not long, is at least highly
distinguished. Under the mastership of Dr Searle (* Ouless), who was
elected in 1880, it has become an exceedingly popular college, and its
numbers are very largely augmented. Dr Edward Bickersteth, the late
Bishop of the Church of England in Japan, was among the most celebrated
of its recent members, and held an Honorary Fellowship. The present
Bishop of Wakefield is the latest addition to its roll of prelates.

VI
GONVILLE AND CAIUS COLLEGE

T he arrangement of buildings at Caius is rather curious, and no
Cambridge college has been so transformed since its foundation. The
chapel is between the two lesser courts; the hall is at the back of everything,
and its position is far from obvious. Caius may be said to consist of two
halves: the first half, to the east, borders Trinity Street, and is the New
Court; the second and westerly half is an oblong bounded on three sides by
narrow lanes and on the other by the rest of the college. This second half is
again split into two halves, the northern of which, nearest Trinity Lane, is
Gonville Court, and represents the ancient college removed here in 1353
from the other end of King’s Parade. Beneath its somewhat modern front an
immense quantity of the original work still exists, and fourteenth-century
windows have been discovered. The old hall and chapel have disappeared,
although part of the present chapel may belong to the original buildings.
Caius, however, in refounding the college, altered everything. He built an
additional court, south of the ancient college. This, too, has been refaced,
and is, for the most part, a comfortable quadrangle of Queen Anne date. But
the gates which Caius, giving play to a strange fancy, built for his college,
are still entire. His Gate of Humility, a mere postern in the outer buildings,
exists no longer; but Mr Waterhouse preserved the idea in his new building,
and recently his gate has, in accordance with the founder’s design, been
made once again the principal entrance. The Gate of Virtue, leading from
the new court into Caius Court, is a tall Italian building, in which Gothic
and Renaissance forms are most curiously blended. The Italian appearance

of the design is due, no doubt, to the corner turret, which introduces a very
picturesque element into a simple plan.

While the Gate of Virtue subordinates its ornament to general effect, the
last gate, the Gate of Honour, leading appropriately to the Senate House and
schools, attracts by beauty of detail. It was finished in 1574, the year after
Caius’ death, and its design, the heavy architrave with an Ionic order, and
the hexagonal, domed structure at the top, is purely classical. It is the most
charming building of its date in England, and is a good instance of that love
of mere fancy which marks the builders of the late Italian Renaissance.
Caius’ architect was a certain Theodore Have of Cleves in the Rhenish
provinces, who also remodelled the chapel between this and Gonville’s
court, and probably designed the sarcophagus in which Caius is buried. The
bell-tower of the chapel, which agrees very well with the two gateways, is
comparatively new. It is worth while to enter the chapel, which, although,
after numerous alterations, it is of no particular date or style, has a very
pleasant interior, and, in addition to Caius’ monument, contains that of Dr
Perse, the founder of the Perse Free School in Cambridge. This excellent
gentleman, who died in 1617, built most of the original entrance court of
the college, in which Caius’ Gate of Humility was incorporated. In
Loggan’s beautiful view of Caius, these buildings seem to have been of the
same style as those in the second court of St John’s College, the style of
which Ralph Symons built so many delightful examples in Cambridge.
They belong to 1617. The portion of this court south of the Gate of
Humility was built in 1619, in accordance with the will of a late master, Dr
Legge.

In 1719, the older courts were faced and the chapel was newly decorated.
This work was continued at intervals through the century. Mr (afterwards
Sir James) Burrough was a fellow in these days, and was the leading spirit

in the work. The college remained untouched until the mastership of the late
Dr Guest. Then, in 1854, Salvin built the Hall, whose exterior is as hideous
as the interior, with its fine open timber roof, is imposing and beautiful. In
1867 Mr Waterhouse entirely rebuilt Perse’s court, and, in the following
year, added an apse to the chapel. His court has given a new feature to
Cambridge, certainly. But, where colleges are concerned, Mr Waterhouse is
not happy, and this huge pile, with its square windows, its pyramidal tower,
medallions, and rows of waterspouts, would make a praiseworthy bank or
hotel, but, in its present position, is painfully incongruous.

V
ery shortly after Marie de Valence had founded Pembroke, Edmund
Gonville, rector of Terrington St Clement’s in Norfolk, founded
Gonville Hall for the instruction of twenty scholars in dialect and other
sciences. He found a site for his hall in what is now Free School Lane, just
behind St Botolph’s Church. The foundation took place in 1348, and, during
Gonville’s lifetime, the name given to the hall was “The Hall of the
Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin.” But Gonville died in 1351, when his
executor, the famous William Bateman, Bishop of Norwich, removed the
buildings and placed them opposite his own college of Trinity Hall.
Henceforward, the college was known as Gonville Hall, and the old name
was retained when Caius re-founded it. The small society—for the college
was at first very poor—took possession of its new tenements in 1353, when
William de Rougham became master. The previous master of the house in
Free School Lane was John Colton, who became Primate of Ireland; and
among the masters of Gonville Hall we find the names of John Rickingale,
Bishop of Chichester in 1426, and John Skippe, Bishop of Hereford in
1539.
It was during the mastership of Skippe’s predecessor, William
Bokenham, that John Caius entered the college as an undergraduate. After
he had taken his degree he was for a few years Principal of Physwick
Hostel, a small house affiliated to Gonville Hall. He left Cambridge,
however, about 1540, and travelled to foreign universities, studying
medicine at Padua and other academies. He was a man of culture, and his
taste was doubtless stimulated by the splendid productions of the Italian

Renaissance. We may, in fact, regard him as one of the greatest English
humanists, and, like so many of them, as one of the greatest benefactors to
his university. On his return to England he practised as a physician, and
received the appointment of court physician to Edward VI. and, afterwards,
to Queen Mary. In 1555, he was elected President of the College of
Physicians. Having thus risen to considerable eminence, he determined to
do something for Gonville Hall. Philip and Mary granted him letters patent
in 1557, with which he refounded the college. In this way he gave that
impetus to medical study which has since made Caius pre-eminently a
doctor’s college. His beautiful buildings are sufficient testimony to the
elegant taste which he had matured in Italy. Thomas Bacon, master of
Gonville Hall and first master of the new foundation, died in 1559, and the
society elected Caius to the mastership. At first he was reluctant to accept
the dignity, and prevailed so far as to refuse his income as master. His
mastership lasted until his death in 1573. He was one of the most
disinterested of all Cambridge benefactors, and his learning and talents are
beyond praise. One odd feature of his career, which is very characteristic of
the uncritical spirit of the time, is his dispute with Dr Key of Oxford as to
the relative antiquity of the two universities. To some astonishing legend of
Key’s, he replied that Cambridge was founded in the year 3538 b.c. by one
Cantaber, a Spanish prince, alleging many weighty statements on behalf of
his accurate chronology. His History of Cambridge contains more
trustworthy information than this, but he was singularly prone to the
acceptation of spurious etymologies and vain traditions. His contemporaries
held him to be something of an atheist, and complained that he showed “a
perverse stomach to professors of the gospel.” This probably means little
more than that he was content with the old religion. He died away from
Cambridge, but his body was brought from London to be buried. It was met
at Trumpington Ford by the Vice-Chancellor and a procession, who
escorted it into Cambridge with almost royal honours.
Among other gifts to the college, Caius left the silver mace encircled
with serpents, which is called Caduceus prudentis gubernatoris. It was
directed to be carried in procession before the master with the Liber
Cognitionis and the Pulvinar reverentiae. There are three portraits of Caius
in various parts of the college. That in the Hall, which represents him
holding a pink, is the best.

A notable son of Gonville Hall was Sir Thomas Gresham, well known as
the founder of the Royal Exchange. He died in 1579, so that he had
probably taken his degree before Caius’ time. Caius was succeeded in the
mastership by Dr Legge, a lawyer and Master in Chancery, who was also
Regius Professor of Civil Law. In his day came into residence William
Harvey of Folkestone, one of the great glories of the college. His discovery
of the circulation of the blood created a revolution in medical science.
There are three portraits of Harvey in Caius: one of them, in the Master’s
Lodge, is attributed to Rembrandt; another in the Combination Room, is a
replica of the picture at the Royal College of Physicians. Another great
doctor, John Gostlin,* Regius Professor of Physic, became master in 1618.
He is said to have objected to the wearing of boots as “more fit for gallants
than for civil students.” He also gave the Bull Inn, which was his property,
to Catharine Hall.
If Caius has its doctors, it has also its prelates. William Linwood, Lord
Keeper under Henry VI., and Bishop of St David’s in 1442, is
commemorated by one of the medallions on the west front. A famous name
among others is that of Nicholas Shaxton, Bishop of Salisbury in 1535. The
long mastership of Thomas Batchcroft,* who was ejected by the
Parliamentary Commissioners and restored in 1660, was distinguished by
the residence of Jeremy Taylor. This great divine’s father was a barber in
Cambridge, and sent his son to Dr Perse’s new Free School. Naturally, as a
scholar brought up at a school which had been founded from Caius, Taylor
became an undergraduate at Caius. He was a precocious theologian, and
early attracted the notice of Laud, who transferred him to Oxford and
procured him a fellowship at All Souls’. He became Bishop of Down and
Connor, and died at Lisburn in 1667. Among theologians his name stands
very high, and, as a writer of English, he is in his own style unsurpassed.
Cosin also, a no less illustrious example of piety and devout
Churchmanship, was bred at Caius, before he became Master of Peterhouse.
Both Taylor and Cosin figure in the medallions of the façade. The portrait
of Taylor in the Hall is a copy of his picture at All Souls’. There is also a
portrait of Cosin painted in 1666. Other prelates of this period are Francis
Marsh, Bishop of Limerick and Archbishop of Dublin, Hartstrong, Bishop
of Ossory, and Francis White, Bishop, first of Norwich, and then of Ely. To
much the same date belongs Judge Jeffreys. A very disreputable
undergraduate was Titus Oates, of whom a vehement writer says that he

was “a liar from the beginning, cheated his tailor of a gown, which he
denied with horrid imprecations.” His career at Cambridge had a sudden
end, but he managed to obtain a doctor’s degree at Salamanca. Thomas
Shadwell, who is famous as one of Dryden’s bêtes noires, was also a
member of Caius.
Robert Brady,* Keeper of the Records and Regius Professor of Physic,
was master for forty years after Batchcroft’s death. He was a supporter of
the royal prerogative in its most extreme form, and wrote a History of
England to prove his views. Two clergymen were educated at Caius in his
time; Prince, who wrote the Worthies of Devon, and Jeremy Collier, the
stout antagonist of Restoration drama. Another long mastership was that of
Sir Thomas Gooch,* from 1716 to 1754, who, during the same period, was
Bishop successively of Bristol, Norwich and Ely. He was succeeded in 1754
by Sir James Burrough, who, for many years before, had interested himself
in the architectural condition of Cambridge, and had had a hand in altering
almost every college. He was not an unsuccessful architect, although an
amateur, but his work is very unequal and it degenerated with the taste of
the epoch. Although one of the best known masters, as far as Cambridge is
concerned, there is no portrait of him in the college. Another Cambridge
architect, William Wilkins, was also a Caius man.
Burrough’s successor was Dr John Smith, afterwards Lowndean
Professor of Astronomy, who lived till 1795. There is a portrait of him by
Reynolds in the Master’s Lodge. Later masters have not been so famous.
Mr Clark tells us that Dr Benedict Chapman (* Philips) was the last head of
a house who rode out in top-boots. Perhaps the name on which Cambridge
men will dwell with most affection in connexion with Caius is that of John
Hookham Frere, whose translations of Aristophanes have a place in English
literature. The mastership of Dr Ferrers,* which began in 1880, has been
marked by great progress. The college is no longer exclusively medical, but
is winning yearly honours in all the schools, and it has created a good
precedent by granting fellowships as a reward of proficiency rather than of
mere academic distinction. It has, however, produced, all through its
history, great members of every profession. Among its lawyers have been
Lord Chancellor Thurlow* and Baron Alderson.* And of its divines, while
it reckons the late Dr Harvey Goodwin, Bishop of Carlisle, among the
number, the last, but not the least, is the heroic Charles Frederick

Mackenzie,* first Bishop of the Universities Mission to Central Africa. Its
latest living bishop is Dr Wallis, who was consecrated Bishop of Wellington
in New Zealand a year or two ago.

VII
TRINITY HALL

L ong the lawyers’ college, Trinity Hall maintains a staid legal
appearance. Its present arrangement is essentially modern, and the
earliest remaining portion is the ivy-covered range of chambers forming the
northern side of the Garden Court. This is not earlier than 1560, but, as at
Caius, much of the interior work of the main court is original. In the upper
storey of this range is the primitive Library, fitted in the sixteenth century
with low bookshelves, the tops of which form a double reading desk. This
very comfortable arrangement has been followed in the small bookshelves
of many of the other libraries. The bulk of the College, including the
entrance courts and the small quadrangle, was entirely remodelled in the
last century, during the mastership of Sir Nathaniel Lloyd (1710-35) and Sir
Edward Simpson (1735-64). The Chapel, south of the large court (an
unusual position) belongs to 1729, and the Hall on the west side to 1743. Its
interior is very creditable to Georgian taste, although not positively
faultless. In 1852, the façade of the college was burned down. The present
front is due to Salvin, who built the neighbouring hall of Caius much about
the same time. The old gate of the college, which opened into the smaller
court, is still commemorated by an opening in the wall, affording a
picturesque view of the ivy-covered interior. To a later period belong the
new buildings in the Garden Court. The Tutor’s House, of white stone, by
Mr W. M. Fawcett, is not exactly in harmony with Messrs Grayson &
Ould’s brick building on the north side, but the latter has been arranged so
as to slope obliquely northward, and front the garden; and a too obvious
discord has thus been avoided. In itself, this red-brick work, of a

Renaissance order, is one of the best things in modern Cambridge, and
fulfils, at least from an outside point of view, all the ideal requirements of a
collegiate building.

C
anon Law, the typical study of the Middle Ages, is the raison d’être of
Trinity Hall. William Bateman, Bishop of Norwich, founded the
College of the Scholars of the Holy Trinity of Norwich in 1350, in
order to furnish his diocese with secular priests. His college occupied
substantially the same ground as it does to-day. The founder, who also has a
claim to be one of the founders of Caius, did not live long to enjoy his
work. He was sent by Edward III. on an embassy to Innocent VI., in one of
the numerous attempts at arbitration which varied the Hundred Years’ War.
While engaged in these negotiations the Bishop died. His death was due to
the climate of Avignon, which, in that season of plague, was more than
ordinarily pestilent. “Avenio ventosa,” says the doggrel rhyme, “cum vento
fastidiosa, sine vento venenosa.” Englishmen, with their usual mistrust of
Papal honesty, said that Bateman had been poisoned. He left his foundations
of Trinity Hall and the new Gonville Hall in a very incomplete state, and his
executor, Archbishop Simon of Sudbury, although he did what he could in
the way of building, was too much occupied with his fatal position in the
state to attend closely to the condition of the colleges. In fact, Trinity Hall,
composed of a master, twenty fellows and three scholars, was very badly
off. Early in the fifteenth century they complained to Archbishop Arundel of
the insufficiency of their commons, and obtained a dispensation by which
they were empowered to add twopence for each weekday and a groat on the
Lord’s day.
Meanwhile, two of the masters of Trinity Hall are found among the list of
bishops. These were the canonists Robert de Stretton, Bishop of Lichfield
from 1360 to 1386, and Marmaduke Lumley, Bishop of Lincoln from 1450
to 1452. In the year 1525, Stephen Gardiner* became master. He was a
native of Bury St Edmund’s and was a fellow of the college. In 1531, he
was made Bishop of Winchester, but retained the mastership till his death,
esteeming it a refuge to which, in those troublous times, he could always
retire. He was, nevertheless, a little out of his reckoning. Although a
reformer, he was of the conservative type and was not a persona grata to

Edward VI., who deprived him of both his mastership and bishoprick. His
supplanter at Winchester was John Poynet; at Trinity Hall he was
superseded by Walter Haddon, reputed to be the best Latinist of his time.
Haddon was Professor of Law and Rhetoric and Public Orator, and, in
addition to this, with the assistance of Sir John Cheke, compiled a new code
of ecclesiastical law. His reforming activities gained him the Presidency of
Magdalen College, Oxford, in 1552, from which he retired at Queen Mary’s
accession. He died some years later and is buried in Christ Church,
Newgate Street.
Mary’s reign brought back Gardiner to his college and diocese. Walter
Mowse, the second Protestant master, was ousted to make way for the
bishop. As Chancellor of England, Gardiner distinguished himself for his
reactionary policy, a natural course in one who, having done all he could in
the way of reform, knew what gratitude he had to expect from the other
side. He died in 1555. There is no doubt that he was an energetic, pushing
man who allowed little to stand in his way, and stories were told of how he
canvassed for the see of Winchester, doing his best to embitter the last days
of Bishop Foxe. He was the bishop who married Philip of Spain to Mary in
Winchester Cathedral; and this, with his acts of persecution, have endeared
him to the orthodox English historian. But we must make allowance for
Protestant hatred, and remember that if such men as Gardiner, Pole, and
Gaspar Contarini had lived a century before, we should have been spared
the irregularities of the Reformation, while we reaped its advantages.
Gardiner’s chantry-chapel is well known to all visitors of Winchester
Cathedral. There are two portraits of him in Trinity Hall: one in the
Combination Room, another in the Master’s Lodge. A somewhat less
single-minded ecclesiastic was Thomas Thirlby,* fellow of the college, and
first and only Bishop of Westminster. He was promoted in 1550 to Norwich,
and to Ely in 1554, when he, too, gained some reputation as a persecutor of
the new religion. Richard Sampson, Bishop of Lichfield, belongs also to
this period.
Henry Hervey, who followed Gardiner, was a great builder, and we owe
the Library to him. From his time onward the college was the legal centre of
Cambridge, and helped to raise English law to a position which fully
realised Bateman’s desire that England should not be “out-lawed” by other
countries. As Canon Law became superseded by Civil Law, the original

purpose of the college and its connexion with Norwich were quite forgotten.
John Cowell, master from 1598 to 1611, was a great foe, however, to Sir
Edward Coke and the common lawyers. His book on the King’s Prerogative
was burned by order of the House of Commons. Another legal worthy of
the time was Sir Robert Naunton, Public Orator, and author of Fragmenta
Regalia, who had also some connexion with Trinity College. He is
memorable for an insulting remark which he made to the Spanish
Ambassador, Gondomar, on account of which he was kept a close prisoner
in his own house, stoutly refusing to apologise.
The Regius Professorship of Civil Law became the practical monopoly of
Trinity Hall in 1666, when Dr John Clark was elected to the office. It was
only on the election of the present Professor Clark that the succession was
broken. Of these professors, one, Dr George Oxenden, held the mastership
and professorship together. Meanwhile, we find one or two bishops, notably
William Barlow, Bishop of Lincoln from 1608 to 1614, whose name is
familiar to controversialists on the subject of Anglican Orders. The
beginning of the eighteenth century produced two more, Adam Otley,
Bishop of St David’s and Richard Reynolds, Bishop of Lincoln. About the
same time, Trinity Hall had the honour of educating Philip Dormer
Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield (* W. Hoare). It would be interesting
to know more about the life of this celebrated gentleman at Cambridge, but
he doubtless employed his time in picking up miscellaneous knowledge and
laying the foundations of his delightful style. I forgot to mention that
another famous nobleman was a Trinity Hall man—Lord Howard of
Effingham, who commanded the English fleet against the Spanish Armada.
In Nathaniel, Lord Crewe,* Bishop of Durham, the college produced a
devout prelate and Jacobite. He died in his ninetieth year (1633).
Lawyers of the eighteenth century are absolutely innumerable. Sir
Nathaniel Lloyd,* master from 1710 to 1735, was King’s Advocate; his
successor, Sir Edward Simpson,* was Dean of Arches. Sir John Eardley
Wilmot,* Lord Chief Justice of England, was another noted member of the
college. His life nearly spans the last century. Dr John Andrews,* Master of
Faculties, dying in 1747, left the College £20,000, which was to be paid
after the death of his two sisters and expended in building new wings to the
river. Dr Samuel Halifax,* Professor of Law from 1770 to 1782, was
clergyman as well as lawyer. Previously, he had held for two years the two

University Professorships of Arabic. His elevation to the see of Gloucester
in 1781 was a suitable reward of such versatility. He was followed in his
Professorship by Dr Joseph Jowett, who made a garden out of the strip of
ground at the angle formed by the outer walls of the old court and of the
principal quadrangle. It faced the lane east of the cottage, and excited some
ridicule. Archdeacon Wrangham’s epigram has been often quoted:

A little garden little Jowett made
And fenced it with a little palisade;
But when this little garden made a little talk,
He changed it to a little gravel walk.
If you would know the mind of little Jowett,
This little garden don’t a little show it.

The list of legal celebrities in the last century is also adorned by the name of
Lord Mansfield, whose bust, by Nollekens, is in the Hall.
We now come to the present century. Sir Alexander Cockburn (* Watts),
Lord Chief Justice, was a member of the college during the earlier half, and
the name of Sir Herbert Jenner Fust, master from 1843 to 1852, is also well
known. Sir Henry Maine’s reputation is European. This great historian,
lawyer and philosopher, occupied the chair of Civil Law from 1847 to 1854.
When, in 1877, Dr Geldart died, he was elected Master, and died in 1888.
During the last year of his life, he was Whewell Professor of International
Law. There is a portrait of him in the Hall, by Lowes Dickinson. Needless
to say, Trinity Hall is represented on the Bench of to-day, and the Lodge
contains two portraits (by Dickinson) of Mr Justice Romer.
Literature pure and simple has never been well represented at “the Hall.”
Thomas Tusser was educated here, but a great gap exists between the old-
fashioned bucolic poet and the next writer. The name of Sir Edward
Bulwer-Lytton (* copy from Maclise) is, however, not inconsiderable. His
part in nineteenth-century literature may be very largely ascribed to his
Cambridge associations and friendships. And the growth of an essentially
modern science has been stimulated by another Trinity Hall man, Henry
Fawcett (* Rathbone), Postmaster General and Professor of Political
Economy from 1863 to 1884. There is another portrait of him, by Professor
Herkomer, in the Fitzwilliam Museum. And, speaking of the Fitzwilliam

Museum, it must not be forgotten that the peer to whom that institution
owes its foundation came from Trinity Hall also.
To the modern undergraduate Trinity Hall is known chiefly as the head of
the river, a position which, until the present year, has been for some time its
monopoly. However, it is also well known in the schools, and not only in
the school of law. Under Dr Latham (* Holl and Dickinson) the college has
increased in popularity, and, both in size and importance, has attained a
place in the first rank of colleges.

VIII
CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE

O ne of the prettiest spots in the whole University is the tiny medieval
court on the north side of Corpus. You have only to turn your back on
the ugly Hall, and look at three sides of a venerable, low quadrangle clothed
with ivy and stained with age, and you can imagine yourself back in the
days of the Edwards, when the pious members of the Cambridge benefit
societies founded the college. Times have changed, and the court has been
repaired fairly often; but the place retains its medieval flavour. There is still
the gallery which communicated between the college and St Bene’t’s
Church, while St Bene’t’s was the college chapel; with the aid of a key, you
may go straight from under the roof of Corpus into church, without leaving
cover. And, in one corner of the court, the kitchen, with its great spit
revolving in the draught, is a continual source of interest to all visitors.
However, medieval Corpus was never very conspicuous, and, like most
things medieval, it grew incommodious. Mr William Wilkins, an architect
of some knowledge, who had taken his degree at Caius, was selected in
1823 to renew Corpus in the Gothic taste, then becoming fashionable. His
design, which he executed between 1823 and 1827, was highly praised, and
during the next ten years he left some notable marks of his hand in
Cambridge. The great court of Corpus is a singular instance of the
fluctuation of taste. What was then considered handsome—it was certainly
audacious—is to-day an eye-sore. The proportions of the great court are
noble, and everything is conceived on a grand scale. The Hall and Library
are both fine apartments, and the Chapel is commanding; but the whole
building is shallow, and its detail is flimsy and jejune. All Wilkins’ work,

here, at King’s and at Trinity, deserves careful study; for it shows how the
architects of the first half of the century, with the experience of past ages at
their command, failed even in the elementary matter of imitation.

C orpus has the singular distinction of having been founded by a Gild.
The Gild or Benefit Society was an important institution in medieval
Cambridge, and each church had one attached to it. Somewhere
towards the end of the thirteenth century, when the festival of Corpus
Christi was become a recognised feast of the Church, a society of this kind
was founded in the parish of St Bene’t, and took the title of Corpus Christi
in honour of the Blessed Sacrament. What induced the corporation to found
a college is unknown; its action is at all events a testimony to the love of
learning which was spreading at this time among the middle classes. In
1352, it obtained a charter from Edward III. for the foundation of a college.
The alderman of the Gild at this date was Henry, Duke of Lancaster, cousin
to the King. One gild, however, was not sufficient to carry out the work of
itself, and the Gild of Corpus Christi achieved its desire by uniting itself
with the Gild of Our Lady, which was connected with St Mary’s by the
Market, the present University Church. To this union the College owes its
coat of arms. In two out of the four quarters we see the “pelican in her
piety,” the emblem of the Blessed Sacrament; in the other two are the lilies
emblematic of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Another interesting person
connected with the foundation is John Goldcorne, an ex-alderman of the
Gild of Corpus Christi. He had generously given some of his property to
Bishop Bateman when the bishop removed Caius College to its present site.
He gave Corpus the fine drinking-horn which still is the chief piece of plate
in the rich collection belonging to the house. It was probably the horn used
at feasts of the Gild; it is one of the best specimens of the kind in existence.
Thomas of Eltisley, a village between Cambridge and St Neots, was the
first master. Like most other colleges, its medieval history is not very
extraordinary. Like most other colleges, too, its scholars “kept” their
chapels in a parish church, the adjacent church of St Bene’t. College and
church have always been closely connected, and even to-day, when the
college has ceased to bear its familiar name of Bene’t College, the
advowson of St Bene’t’s is in its gift. In process of time, it built the south

chancel aisle, which it reserved for itself. This was divided into two stories,
an upper and an under, and was entered from the gallery which still exists
between the church and the old court. Finally, in the sixteenth century, Sir
Nicholas Bacon,* the famous Lord Keeper, who had been educated at
Corpus, gave the structure of a chapel. This was built almost on the site of
the present one. It is characteristic of the age that, to build this chapel, stone
was taken from the dissolved abbey of Thorney and from Barnwell Priory.
Matthew Parker, master from 1544 to 1553, was the great ornament of
the college at this period. He is more famous as Archbishop of Canterbury
than as a don, but Corpus holds his name in great honour. His great
collection of manuscripts is preserved in the Library. The bequest was
accompanied by one of those odd provisions by which benefactors ensured
the jealous care of their possessions after their death. If twenty-five
manuscripts are lost, the collection is to go to Caius; if Caius is guilty of
neglect, it passes to Trinity Hall. The provision is rigidly attended to, and
the inspection of the manuscripts is an affair of great circumstance, for
which the presence of the librarian, a fellow and a scholar is necessary.
Perhaps the most historical document in the Library is the original draft of
the Thirty-Nine Articles. Parker also left some very valuable plate to the
college, cups and apostle-spoons. There is a portrait of him in the Hall, and
another in the Master’s Lodge.
Corpus has a distinguished roll of Elizabethan worthies. Besides Sir
Nicholas Bacon and Parker, we find the names of two dramatists,
Christopher Marlowe, one of the greatest of all, and Giles Fletcher, the
collaborator of Beaumont. The father of the latter was also a member of the
college, and became Bishop, first of Bristol, then of London. George
Wishart, the Scottish martyr, was here at some time early in the sixteenth
century. In 1590 John Jegon* became master. Afterwards, as Bishop of
Norwich, Jegon was not a great success: as Master of Corpus his strictness
made him unpopular. There is a story that he fined some of the scholars for
a breach of rules, and applied the proceeds to the repair of the college. One
of the delinquents afterwards wrote on a wall of the college this couplet,

Dr Jegon, Bene’t College Master,
Broke the scholars’ heads and gave the wall a plaster.

Beneath this elegant conceit Jegon wrote a distich of his own.

Knew I but the wag that wrote this verse in bravery,
I’d commend him for his wit, but whip him for his knavery.

Jegon was Vice-Chancellor from 1596 to 1601, and his arms appear on the
plaster ceiling of the old Senate House, now incorporated in the University
Library. His brother Thomas succeeded him at Corpus and was also Vice-
Chancellor in 1609. Both brothers died in 1618.
During the Commonwealth Richard Love* was Master, and was also
Dean of Ely as long as deaneries were suffered to exist. At the Restoration,
Peter Gunning became master for a year, and then passed to St John’s.
Gunning’s part in Church History is well known, and his short residence
may be esteemed an honourable item in the history of the college. Seven
years after his time, another scholar of repute became master, John Spencer
(* Van der Myn), Dean of Ely, and author of a book De Legibus
Hebraeorum. Corpus has always been rich in ecclesiastics. It produced a
second Archbishop of Canterbury in Thomas Tenison* who is famous for
his interest in education and his benefactions to schools. In the next
generation another Primate, Thomas Herring,* came from Corpus. An
Archbishop of York belonging to the foundation was Richard Sterne,
afterwards Master of Jesus and grandfather of the great sentimentalist.
Matthias Mawson,* master from 1724 to 1744, was elevated in 1740 to the
Bishoprick of Chichester and translated in 1754 to Ely. On the other hand,
Samuel Wesley was also at Corpus, so that modern Methodism, the creation
of his famous sons, may look with reverence upon the college.
The Master’s Lodge contains a very complete series of portraits, but the
later masters are none of them very noticeable. It cannot be said that the
heads of houses during the early part of the present century were interesting
beings, although they themselves were not without positive convictions on
the point. Dr John Lamb (* Sir W. Beechey), was master from 1822 to
1850, and supplemented his office with the Deanery of Bristol. His
mastership was signalised by the entire rebuilding of the college under
William Wilkins. Whether the copy of Raffaelle’s School of Athens
(attributed to Poussin) which this radical builder presented to the college is
sufficient compensation for the damage inflicted in a matter of doubt. The

present buildings have nourished some excellent scholars. Of living
celebrities the three brothers Perowne may be mentioned—Bishop, Master,
and Archdeacon. The portrait of Dr E. H. Perowne in the Hall is by Rudolph
Lehmann; that of his brother, the Bishop of Worcester, is by the Hon. John
Collier. The late librarian, Samuel S. Lewis (* Brock) was a world-wide
authority on gems. His collection, containing many of the finest engraved
gems existing, now belongs to the college, forming a treasure little inferior
to Archbishop Parker’s manuscripts. And, turning to the religious memories
of Corpus, no one who appreciates a life of entire self-sacrifice and
devotion will fail to pay a tribute to the portrait of Thomas Ragland, Fellow
of the College, and missionary to Tinnevelly. It will be seen that the history
of Corpus is throughout almost entirely ecclesiastical, and it is still a
favourite college for undergraduates who wish to proceed to Holy Orders.
Among its latest honours has been the elevation of its librarian, Dr Harmer,
to the Bishoprick of Adelaide. Although one of the smaller foundations, its
priceless collections give Corpus an importance second to that of very few
colleges, while the unique history of its foundation singles it out from the
rest.

IX
KING’S COLLEGE

H enry VI. is the most famous of the founders of colleges in Cambridge,
but his plan has been adhered to least of all. King’s has gone through
several vicissitudes. The magnificent chapel stood south, not north, of the
original college. That college was to have consisted of four courts; the
fourth was to be on the other side of the river, and a covered bridge was to
lead to it, as to the present fourth court of St John’s. As at Wykeham’s
Oxford College, with which King’s has so many points of resemblance, the
west end of the chapel was to be supplemented with cloisters and an ample
tower. Only one court was built, which now is part of the University
Library. The college has been transferred to the other side of the chapel, and
consists of a scattered series of more or less modern buildings. From some
points of view, the change is to be regretted, but, had it not been made, we
should have lost the unique view of King’s and Clare from the Backs,
which disputes the honours of Cambridge with the Trinity lime walk.

King’s College

King’s Chapel was very nearly a century in building. Henry VI. laid its
foundation stone on July 25th, 1446, and the workmen continued at it till
1479 or thereabout. Edward IV. gave £1000 towards it, but the works lay
idle till 1508, when Henry VII. came forward with £5000. Another £5000
was paid over by his executors in 1513, and in 1515 the chapel stood for the
first time as it stands now. The stained glass was added under two contracts,
one bearing date 1516, the second 1526. In 1536 the screen and most of the

stalls were added, and in 1774 Essex spoiled the east end with some inferior
Gothic wood carving, which, fortunately, has lately been removed.

This is the history of the main fabric. As a building, its faults are shared
in common by all its contemporaries. It is possible to accuse King’s Chapel
of monotony, and it must be confessed that its constant repetition of the
same ornaments all over its surface shows a lack of invention. But it may be
said without any doubt that no building raised in Europe after 1500 is so
pure a specimen of Gothic as this; and, with all its faults, and especially its
strong tendency to mere bigness, it stands first in beauty among those of our
churches which are not cathedrals—that is, after Westminster Abbey. The
exterior, with its corner turrets, its row of tall windows, its flanking
chantries and its immense buttresses, is simple in design and gorgeous in
execution. The north and south porches, which are exceptionally good for
their date, afford a certain relief from the general sameness. Internally, the
charm of the general effect is extraordinary, and every Cambridge man must
have felt it at some time or other. Its length is 316 feet, its breadth 45½ feet,
its height 78 feet; and this vast area is flooded with the exquisite colours of
the stained windows. Even the roof, an unbroken expanse of that
development of vaulting known as fan tracery, must give the palm to the
windows. Without its stained glass, King’s Chapel would be, like the Lady
Chapel at Ely, merely an interesting relic. As it is, it is the rival of Fairford
as the possessor of the most complete set of windows of the Renaissance
period in England. Indeed, it would be difficult to find their parallel
anywhere. Troyes is full of glass of the period, and, intrinsically, the
windows of one of its churches, St Martin-ès-Vignes, are of equal interest,
although much later. For depth of colour and systematic treatment these
cannot be matched. They form a connected exposition of the Gospel
History, proceeding by type and antitype from the conception of the Blessed

Virgin, through the life of Our Lord and the apostolic history to the Virgin’s
death. In each window there is an isolated figure or “messenger” between
the compartments, who bears a scroll with an appropriate Latin text. Thus
the windows embodied the whole plan of salvation, showing the type, the
prophecy and the fulfilment. They culminate, in the east window, in the
central fact of the Crucifixion. The west window, representing, in
accordance with general custom, the Last Judgment, is modern (Clayton
and Bell) and is in very fair, although far from complete harmony with the
older glass. The merit of the latter is not sustained all through, and the
windows on the south side, nearest the altar, are coarsely treated in
comparison with the rest.[3] Mr C. E. Kempe is at present restoring the
windows dealing with the lives of Joachim, Anna, and the Blessed Virgin,
which suffered from the enemies of so-called popery.

King’s College Chapel

There are a thousand things to notice other than the windows. I have
mentioned the roof. To understand its construction it is necessary to pay a
visit to the space between the roofs, where the whole skeleton of the
vaulting is to be seen and its wonderful engineering appreciated. The
woodwork of the chapel is good, especially the screen, a very fine and
graceful example of that Italian style which filtered into England through
the court of Francis I. It bears the love-knot and twisted initials of Henry

VIII. and Anne Boleyn. The organ-case upon it belongs to 1606; the organ
itself was built eighty years later by Renatus Harris, but has been almost
entirely renewed since. The canopies of the choir-stalls are only a little
older than the organ, and look best at a distance. Then there is the stone-
carving in the antechapel, where the great coats-of-arms and supporters, the
rose and portcullis of Henry VII. are repeated over and over again. Lastly,
in the series of chantries there are one or two interesting brasses. Provost
Hacombleyn’s chantry, on the south side, commemorates the provost who
gave the beautiful lectern. He died in 1528, and is buried here. The window
contains some good old glass; a portrait of Henry VI. and two pictures of
Our Lady and St Nicholas of Myra, who are the patrons of the chapel. In the
centre of the chantry is the altar tomb of Lord Blandford, only son of the
great Duke of Marlborough. He died here in 1703.
For two hundred years after the completion of the chapel, the old
northern court sufficed. To the south of the chapel was the Provost’s Lodge,
which stood against the last bay, and, with other college buildings, bordered
the western side of King’s Parade. In 1724 James Gibbs began the present
buildings with his beautiful classical pile, which runs at right angles to the
chapel from near its south-west corner. Fellows’ Building is in Gibbs’ best
manner. It is an extremely plain building, with a rusticated basement and a
great central opening, which runs through the first two stories and cuts into
the third. This may be thought an unnecessary intrusion, but Gibbs had
dispensed with an order throughout the building, and some relief was
imperative. At any rate, the chief defect of this part of King’s is its hideous
chimney-stacks, which are only too visible from the street.
Just a century later William Wilkins, who was rearing marvellous edifices
in the Gothic mode, was let loose on King’s. He began with the space
opposite the chapel, and built the long row which includes the Hall,

Combination Room, Library, Provost’s Lodge, and several sets of rooms.
This row begins at King’s Parade and continues past the southern end of
Gibbs’ Building to within a short distance of the river—nearly 200 yards of
supremely bad imitation Gothic. In this range of buildings the Hall is the
only one which attracts much attention. It is large and gloomy, with a
gallery at each end, and an elaborate plaster roof copied from Crosby Hall.
Sir Robert Walpole has the place of honour above the high table, but there
are very few portraits, and the best is that of the late Henry Bradshaw,
University Librarian. Wilkins was not satisfied with his undertaking. In
1828 he proceeded to lay King’s open to the road. The old Lodge was taken
down, and a Gothic screen thrown across from the New Building to the
south-east corner of the chapel. In the middle of this is the gateway, famous
under many nicknames. To say that this fanciful structure is ugly is not
strictly true: it has a very distinguished air about it, but it belongs decidedly
to the era of the Brighton Pavilion. It would be appropriate in any country
but England, and under any other name but Gothic.

Sir Gilbert Scott added the small court known as Chetwynd Court some
forty years later. Its eastern side follows King’s Parade in a line with the end
of Wilkins’ Building, and the face opposite Free School Lane is adorned
with a statue of Henry VIII. Scott was too conservative and kept to Wilkins’
style too much; the result is not very successful. It was reserved for Mr G.
F. Bodley to build the beautiful river court, which was completed on two
sides in 1893. Bodley’s Building is the architectural success of Cambridge
in the present century, and compares very well with the same artist’s court
at Magdalen College, Oxford. Its style is late fifteenth century: it consists of
a ground-floor, two stories, and a gabled attic. The corner-staircase and the
oriel of the south side are the chief features, for the use of ornament is very
sparing. The rose and portcullis are introduced in places, and on the western

end, which drops into the river, are carved the arms of Eton, King’s, and the
tutelary see of Lincoln.
The only other buildings which remain to be mentioned are the last-
century bridge, crossing the river by a single span, and the choir-school, a
very handsome red-brick building in the meadows west of the college. It
deserves notice as one of the very few really pretty dwelling-houses round
Cambridge, and as an integral part of this noble and unique foundation.

I
n examining the motives which led to the foundation of the various
colleges, it is interesting to observe how many of them were suggested
by similar and almost contemporary foundations at Oxford. One may
safely say that the boundary-line between the middle ages and the new
learning of the Renaissance was crossed when William of Wykeham
founded his colleges of St Mary at Winchester and Oxford. The political
importance of William of Wykeham and of his successors in the see of
Winchester made their work very conspicuous: two of them, William of
Waynflete and Richard Foxe, during their tenure of the see, proved no less
munificent benefactors to Oxford than Wykeham had been. The connection
of the see of Winchester with the Renaissance forced itself upon
everybody’s attention. Henry VI. was especially impressed with it. Two
bishops, Cardinal Beaufort and Waynflete, played a prominent part at his
court; and it is to the latter that we doubtless owe many hints for the
foundation of King’s College. However, at first, Henry VI. undertook the
work without any idea of uniting it with his school at Eton. The college
which he incorporated in 1440 was a very humble affair. It was restricted to
a master and twelve scholars, and the space chosen for it was small and
inconvenient. One of the main arteries of Cambridge ran west of it; the
whole site of the present buildings was blocked up with houses; the form of
the court had to be adapted to its narrow and cramped position. But, two
years later, the king’s plans matured. His foundation of 1443 took a much
larger form. It converted King’s into a finishing-school, as it were, for his
Highness’ poor scholars of Eton. The dedication of the college was
changed. Hitherto, in reference to the saint who presided over Henry’s
birthday, it had been called the King’s College of St Nicholas. It now added

St Mary, the patroness of Eton, to its title. Thus it became an exact
counterpart of New College at Oxford. Although Henry projected his
buildings on a far more magnificent scale than anything of which Wykeham
had dreamed, they had nevertheless a certain resemblance to the Oxford
buildings. The plan includes a great tower and a cloister west of it, such as
were built at Oxford. On the whole, the Founder must have been thinking
very closely of the colleges at Winchester and Oxford, when he set his hand
to this splendid work. He made Waynflete, then Warden of Winchester,
Provost of Eton; and Waynflete was the guiding spirit of the charter by
which the two communities were regulated.[4]
The first provost of King’s came from the opposite side of the street. His
name was William Millington, a fellow of Clare. We are told that he was
“set back for factious favouring of Yorkshiremen.” At any rate, Waynflete
probably held the reins of both foundations until his translation to
Winchester, which took place in 1447. Among the earliest members of the
college are one or two famous names. Nicholas Close or Cloose, Bishop,
first of Carlisle and afterwards of Lichfield, was certainly the overseer of
the new chapel and perhaps its architect. Thomas Rotherham, whose name
is so closely connected with the history of both universities, was fellow of
King’s, and gave £140 to the chapel. His portrait is in the Hall. Rather
younger than these was Oliver King, Bishop of Exeter, who afterwards
distinguished himself as Bishop of Bath and Wells. The immense
Perpendicular building of Bath Abbey, which is due to his energy, is clearly
suggested by King’s Chapel, and reproduces many of its details. John
Chedworth, who is actually the first provost of the new foundation, became
Bishop of Lincoln. His successor, Robert Woodlark, was the founder of St
Catharine’s College. Another remarkable man of the end of the fifteenth
century was Nicholas West, whose conduct as fellow was extremely
indecorous. His temper was naturally hasty, and, when he was defeated in
his candidature for a proctorship, he made an attempt to set the Provost’s
Lodge on fire. Being baulked in this endeavour, he ran off with the college
spoons. What action the college took is not recorded, but we are informed
that, after this ebullition of temper, the quarrelsome fellow “became a new
man, D.D., and Bishop of Ely.” Not only did he combine these three
attributes, but, in penitence for his wild design on the Provost’s Lodge, built
part of it. This was, of course, the old Provost’s Lodge, south-east of the
chapel.

Penitence, too, moved Henry VII. to finish the chapel. As a member of
the House of Lancaster, his hereditary duty compelled him to complete a
work which even Edward IV. had found pleasure in favouring; while, as one
of the most extortionate and unjust kings who were establishing their
thrones about that time, his conscience invited him to do something as an
amende honorable for his misdeeds. King’s College was already looked
upon as a royal legacy, and all the kings in their turn were well disposed to
it, but none promoted its welfare so much as Henry VII., although his
benefits were chiefly posthumous. The provost to whom the task fell of
seeing that Henry’s bequests were rightly fulfilled was Robert Hacombleyn,
who also had a reputation in his time as a commentator on Aristotle. He lies
buried in one of the chantries south of the antechapel. He was succeeded by
Edward Fox, a native of Gloucestershire, who was provost from 1528 to
1538. Fox was a reformer, but it is said of him that he had “prudence to
avoid persecution.” He was essentially a diplomatist, and held the
Bishoprick of Hereford during the last three years of his provostship. He
was busily engaged by Henry VIII. in the matter of the divorce, and was
sent to Clement VII., Stephen Gardiner being his companion. Afterwards he
was ambassador to France and Germany, and finally to the Schmalkaldic
League, when Henry, in his new-fangled zeal for the Reformation, felt
disposed to join that body. At King’s he was followed by George Day, who
filled the office till 1548, and held the see of Chichester with it.
Henry VIII. was a benefactor to King’s as well as his father. He had other
foundations of his own to look after, however, and seems to have regarded
King’s as a good recruiting-ground for Christ Church at Oxford—the
college whose glory really belongs to Wolsey. Among those students of
Eton and King’s whom we find thus transferred is Robert Aldrich. Aldrich
has not much to do with King’s, but was Master, Fellow, and finally Provost
of Eton, and, after several promotions, became Bishop of Carlisle, where he
remained until 1556, having successfully weathered all the religious storms
of his age. Another very prominent member of the college was Richard
Cox, fellow in 1519. His strong Lutheran opinions brought him into favour
after the divorce. He had been a Canon of Wolsey’s original Cardinal
College; in 1546 he was made Dean of Christ Church. He was also tutor to
Edward VI. As a commissioner at Oxford, he displayed great fury against
the papists, and, at Mary’s accession, not unnaturally fled to Strasburg,
where he had the congenial society of Peter Martyr Vermigli. As Bishop of

Ely from 1559 to 1582, he had time to modify his opinions, and it is
recorded of him that he hated puritans as much as papists. Queen Elizabeth
is said to have disliked him; he must certainly have been very far from her
mind.
To the names of these ecclesiastics we may add that of Edward Hall,
fellow of King’s, who claimed direct descent from Albert II. of Austria, and
retired to Oxford. Richard Croke was a learned Grecian of King’s, who
went to Oxford in order to be near Grocyn. He found patrons in the
munificent Warham and Sir Thomas More, and was one of that coterie
which included Colet and Erasmus. After he had travelled abroad and
lectured in Greek at Leipsic and Louvain, he returned to England and
became Professor of Greek at Cambridge. This was in 1522. Later on, he
was engaged in the divorce, acting as Counsel to the Italian Universities,
and was made a Canon of Christ Church in 1532. He died in 1588 as Rector
of Long Buckby. Yet another of his class was Dr Richard Mulcaster, who, at
a somewhat later period, transferred his talent and vast learning to Oxford,
and finally became famous as Master of Merchant Taylors’ School.
Very seldom has royalty appeared at Cambridge with such magnificence
as on the occasion of Elizabeth’s visit in 1564. Although her actual abode
was at Queens’ College, she spent most of her time in King’s Chapel. The
provost at this time was Dr Philip Baker, who had succeeded Dr Brassie in
1558. Elizabeth was in her element: she was in a seat of learning, and
wanted to show herself as profound as any of them. She rode to hear Te
Deum and evensong at King’s, dressed in the most gorgeous apparel which
even she could assume. At the door the public orator praised her in long-
winded Latin. When his compliments tended to the fulsome, she said “Non
est veritas,” when they passed probability, she said “Utinam!” Next day was
Sunday, and the politic Chancellor, Andrew Perne of Peterhouse, who had
burned corpses to please her sister, made a Latin sermon before her on the
text “Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers”—a command which
he himself had obeyed to the letter. The Queen was highly pleased. Indeed,
most of her visit was occupied in hearing Latin disputations, and nothing
delighted her so much as the Latin of Matthew Hutton, who laid the
foundation of his fortune by this means. On the Sunday, after Dr Perne’s
sermon, she again attended King’s Chapel for evensong; and, in the
evening, having performed her religious duties so well, the Virgin Queen

once more returned to the antechapel and witnessed the Aulularia of
Plautus. This must have vexed the good puritans of the day! It is necessary
to remark that the use of college chapels for dramatic purposes was very
common, and nothing was thought of it. The Commencements in Great St
Mary’s were infinitely more impious ceremonies. Even now, when a
mastership falls vacant, many college chapels are used for the conclave of
fellows, as the chapel ensures more privacy than any other part of the
buildings.
Dr Philip Baker, who took part in these solemn revels, was succeeded in
1569 by Dr Roger Goade, a very serious divine. His son was present at the
Synod of Dort, a fact indicative of the family’s opinions. King’s produced,
indeed, during the Tudor period, a large number of grave and weighty
persons. Sir John Cheke had been provost during the reign of Edward VI.,
and, together with the violently Protestant Walter Haddon, then fellow, and
afterwards Master of Trinity Hall, had done important work as an
ecclesiastical lawyer. Then there was Giles Fletcher, brother of the Bishop
of London and uncle of the dramatist. This remarkable man was
Ambassador to the Court of Muscovy in 1588, and concluded a treaty of
commerce with Ivan the Terrible. His book “Of the Russe
Commonwealthe” has been an indispensable authority for all subsequent
historians of Russia. He was made Treasurer of St Paul’s in 1597. A more
famous name still is that of Sir Francis Walsingham, the great minister of
Elizabeth. He was a fellow commoner and left many valuable books to the
library. Dr Thomas Wylson, fellow of the college, was also a well-known
politician of the same reign. He was tutor to Elizabeth’s cousins, the young
Brandons, Dukes of Suffolk, and was ambassador to Holland in 1576. In
1577, he became Secretary of State, and, in 1579 Dean of Durham. It is said
of him that he was “master of every subject.” His correspondence forms
part of the Harleian MSS.
At Dr Goade’s death, in 1610, we approach dangerous times. Dr
Benjamin Whichcot, a liberal puritan, became master in 1644. It is
generally supposed that his friendship with the Earl of Manchester, who
occupied Cambridge for the Parliament, was the salvation of the stained
glass in the chapel. He was far too learned a man to be bigoted, and was
more of the type of Milton than of the ordinary puritan divine. Dr Whichcot
was a classic, and advised young preachers to imitate Demosthenes and

Cicero. The gentle and metaphysical Cudworth was his friend, and he died
at Cudworth’s house in 1683, having been dispossessed of the provostship
since 1660. His memory was held long afterwards in great esteem, and a
selection from his discourses was edited by the third Lord Shaftesbury, the
pupil of John Locke and author of the Characteristics.
Of a very opposite type to Dr Whichcot was the mathematician William
Oughtred, author of a book called Clavis Mathematica, and an adept in
archery. One writer says of him that “Mathematics were not only recreation
to him, but Epicurism.” In spite of this devotion to abstract sciences, he was
an ardent royalist, and, on hearing of the Restoration, died of joy. Edmund
Waller, the poet, was also at King’s about the same time. We may imagine
that his ecstasy at the Restoration took a more substantial form. Another
type of don altogether is shown us in Dr William Gage, who attended
chapel without a break for nine years, and read fifteen chapters of Holy
Scripture every day of his life. This exemplary gentleman received the
living of St Anne, Blackfriars, where he died in 1653.
After the Restoration, the list of provosts becomes uninteresting, and the
college history becomes a very ordinary record. The privileges of the
foundation were strengthened with age. It was very conservative and
adhered very closely to the Founder’s plan, while other colleges were
opening their doors more widely and competition was becoming a
recognised part of university life. It was autonomous: its members did not
proceed to public examinations in the schools, but gained their degree by an
examination of their own. An Eton Foundation Scholarship was the almost
inevitable prelude to a scholarship and finally a fellowship at King’s. Under
such circumstances the history of a college, however sound its scholarship,
is likely to be rather quiet. In other respects, too, the existence of King’s has
been isolated. Its visitor is the Bishop of Lincoln, and the college is a
peculiar in the diocese of Lincoln. It also enjoyed the unique privilege of
being exempt from proctorial jurisdiction, and many a refugee from the
proctor’s mild justice has sought sanctuary in King’s without fear of
extradition treaties.
It is not, however, to be supposed that this noble college was at any time
without its worthies. Sir William Temple was educated here. Although his
name is doubtless an ornament to the college, he must have been an
insufferable thorn in the side of his pastors and masters, for he was the last

man in the world to have an ill conceit of himself. Two more genial names
appear later. In the absence of a portrait of the Founder, a painting of Sir
Robert Walpole hangs at the end of the hall. He was always a loving son of
the college, and his son, the even more famous Horace,* was here as well.
Charles Pratt, Earl Camden* and Lord Chancellor of England, is another
name connected with the college; and Townshend, a third statesman of the
Georgian era, was likewise brought up at Eton and King’s. To turn aside
from politics to the path of pure learning, we find a very prodigy in the
person of Thomas Hyde, afterwards Archdeacon of Gloucester. At the age
of eighteen he performed the almost incredible task, which till then had
been deemed impossible, of transcribing the Persian Pentateuch out of its
Hebrew characters. It is scarcely surprising to find that this precocious
divine did not shine in ordinary conversation. But his learning met its
recompense in a Canonry at Christ Church, and Hebraists of his own age
did not scruple to reckon him equal as an Orientalist to Bochert and
Pococke.
The name of Sumner occurs twice in the list of provosts, once in 1756
and again in 1797, and, among others of the name, John Bird Sumner,* the
famous Archbishop of Canterbury, was a King’s man. Earlier in the century
lived the painfully erudite William Coxe,* who, as Archdeacon of Wiltshire,
devoted his attention to the Duke of Marlborough and the Hapsburg family.
His researches, although their method is antiquated and their style is
hopelessly dull, are yet invaluable to the student, and his name is not by any
means the least among those of the historians whom Cambridge has
produced. But to the majority of persons, the ecclesiastical celebrities of
King’s are overshadowed by the fame of Charles Simeon, who was a fellow
of the college for considerably more than half a century and, during that
time, was a parish priest of the town. He was the chief of those men who
roused the Church of England from her last-century apathy and revived her
ancient fervour. Although his position was, owing to circumstances,
somewhat more restricted, he was to Cambridge of his day what Cosin and
Andrewes had been to the Cambridge of theirs, and the influence which he
exercised from Cambridge over the length and breadth of England was
almost unbounded. He is buried in the antechapel of King’s beneath a stone
on which his initials are engraved, and there is a bust of him in the
University Library. The traditions which he left to King’s have never been
entirely lost. The Church of England has had few more devoted sons than

the late George Williams, who, as fellow of King’s, advocated warmly the
establishment of friendly relations with the churches of the East. Older
members of the university still remember him as “Jerusalem” Williams.
And, although his life was very retired and he was seldom absent for any
length of time from Cambridge, the late William Ralph Churton, Canon of
St Alban’s, was for the last forty years of his life probably the most active
of all the English clergy in promoting missionary work and extending the
Church in the colonies.
In mentioning these names, there are others which have been necessarily
omitted. The episcopal list of the college is a long one, and includes, among
many more prelates, the famous names of Edmund Gheast, Bishop of
Rochester and Jewel’s successor at Salisbury; William Wickham, Bishop of
Lincoln and afterwards the second Bishop of that name at Winchester; and
John Pearson, Bishop of Chester, who, first a fellow here, was subsequently
Master of Trinity. Among noblemen, the great ambassador, Stratford
Canning, afterwards Lord Stratford de Redcliffe (* Herkomer), occupies a
conspicuous place. Among ordinary laymen, we find Roger Lupton, a
Jacobean worthy, founder of Sedbergh School; and, much later, the poet,
Thomas Lisle Bowles. In the antechapel, a plain stone covers the remains of
Dr Richard Okes, provost from 1850 to 1889. And close by, under a similar
stone, is buried Henry Bradshaw (* Herkomer), University Librarian, one of
the finest scholars of the century, who opened a new epoch in the history of
liturgical study. By the side of the south door will be found a tablet in
memory of the late James Kenneth Stephen, an incomparable orator, whose
little volumes of verse proved him the successor of Calverley among
Cambridge poets.
Within the last twenty years the college has undergone a complete
change. It is no longer the exclusively Etonian college which it was. Its
scholarships, with the exception of a very few, have been thrown open to all
competitors, and the large majority of undergraduates now at King’s have
never been at Eton. Although, from the standpoint of the lover of antiquity,
this departure from the Founder’s scheme is to be seriously regretted, yet it
cannot but be admitted that, in the present century, the exclusive scheme is
impracticable, and newer methods have to be followed. At all events, the
plan works very well, and in no generation is King’s likely to lose its

prestige, nor is that esprit de corps which “Henry’s holy shade” seems to
inspire, at all likely to diminish.

X
QUEENS’ COLLEGE

Queens’

Q ueens’ disputes with Jesus the honour of being the most picturesque
college in Cambridge, and both are none the less picturesque because
they hide themselves away in a corner. Dates are here a little difficult to
determine, for the gate-tower and the two brick courts from King’s Lane to
the river are strongly marked with the stamp of medieval religion, and part
of the side towards Silver Street has an air of undiluted antiquity which, in
Cambridge, it is refreshing to recognise. Still, supposing the present
buildings to have been begun about 1475, the gate-tower cannot have been
finished long before 1500. This is clear if we compare it with the towers at
Jesus, Christ’s and St John’s, all of which were built between 1497 and
1520, Jesus being the earliest of all. This is not the most conspicuous of
them, but it is the boldest, and the arrangement of its corner turrets is
especially admirable. The court on which it opens is small and simple, and
its features are very much the same as those which appear in the oldest parts
of St John’s. The Hall on the west side is a restoration of the old Hall, which

was brought into agreement with last century taste. It has a pleasant interior,
and the woodwork of the doors is good. On the north side of the court is the
curious sun-dial constructed by Sir Isaac Newton; the turret on which it is
displayed is modern, but is an excellent ornament to the court. Beneath it is
a passage to the more modern part of the college, east of which is the old
chapel, a Perpendicular building much modernised by Essex in 1773.

Through the hall screens is the second court, surrounded by low, tunnel-
like cloisters with plain, wide openings in each bay. This charming court
owes a great deal of its beauty to the President’s Lodge, which occupies the
whole of the northern side. This quaint Elizabethan building, with its high
gables and bulging sides, appears to advantage from every point, and the
oriels of its picture-gallery, so arranged that, none being opposite another,
the light is equally distributed throughout, go to make an exquisite picture
which can hardly be excelled. On the opposite side of the court, however, is
the small enclosure which, although known as Erasmus Court, has very
little to remind us of Erasmus. Essex, who did so much harm in Cambridge,
rebuilt this corner of the college in his formal manner about 1773. From the
wooden bridge at the end of the court, the damage done by this addition to
the river façade can be properly estimated. The bridge itself dates from
1746, and is said to have been designed by Newton on a geometrical
principle. It leads to the small garden known as Erasmus’ Walk.

The Bridge

Queens’ College

Returning to the eastern side of the college, we find, north of the first
court, a wing in line with the gateway-tower, continuing the front of the
college along King’s Lane. This, which was built about 1617, is not very
remarkable, and appears to have been intended for use rather than
ornament. Everything north of this is modern. The northernmost range of

chambers was built by Mr W. M. Fawcett in 1886. Although it is very good
in its way, its juxtaposition to the new court of King’s is fatal to its beauty.
Here, too, Mr Bodley has been at work. His new chapel, the most recent
addition to the buildings, is a pretty but not a very successful piece of work.
The interior is elaborately fitted with a very complete set of stalls, and the
organ-case and reredos are very fair reproductions of medieval painting. Mr
Kempe’s windows and the Flemish altar-piece deserve admiration, but the
south side of the building has been spoiled by some very poor glass by
Hardman, taken from the old chapel. Queens’, on the whole, if we except
the President’s Lodge, depends on its delightful general effect rather than on
any very special architectural merit.

I n 1446 Andrew Doket, rector of St Botolph’s Church, founded the
College of St Bernard for a president and four fellows. The site which he
chose for his foundation was east of the present college, and
comprehended an oblong strip of ground running from what was then Milne
Street eastwards to Trumpington Street—in fact, part of the site occupied by
St Catharine’s. Doket, who may be regarded as a second Edmund Gonville,
was first president of his college. However, his original idea was small and
its success was scarcely inevitable. Henry VI. had just founded his splendid
college at the other end of Milne Street, and Doket conceived the happy
idea of inducing his queen to perpetuate her name in the same way.
Margaret of Anjou, who was then, as Mr Atkinson points out, only fifteen
years old, showed great readiness in emulating her husband. She consented
in 1448 to refound the college under the name of the Queen’s College of St
Margaret and St Bernard, and petitioned Henry for a charter, which was
readily granted. The buildings were begun about this time on the present
site. The history of Queens’ College thus offers an interesting parallel to
that of the similarly named college at Oxford. In both cases the first idea is
due to a clerk in holy orders, who invites the reigning queen to occupy his
foundation. Margaret of Anjou has been since looked upon as the chief
foundress and benefactress of the college. In gratitude, the society adopted
her coat-of-arms, and, although this was superseded no less than three times

by other devices, it was adopted again in 1575, and is now, with the
addition of a bordure, the escutcheon of the college. This magnificent piece
of heraldry, which attracts all eyes by its prominent situation in the first
court, recalls the claims of the House of Anjou to European sovereignty.
The unfortunate history of Margaret’s father, René of Provence, and her
brother, the Duke of Calabria, is the key to the shield. Its quarterings
include the arms of the kingdoms of Hungary, the two Sicilies and
Jerusalem in the upper half, and, in the lower, those of the county of Anjou
and the Duchies of Bar and Lorraine.
The thirty-six years of Doket’s presidency were interrupted by the Wars
of the Roses, which prevented the building from going on. Doket, however,
like so many heads of houses in subsequent years, had an affection for his
college which hindered him from displaying any political prejudice. In
1465, when Edward IV. was firmly established on the English throne, he
applied for help to Queen Elizabeth Wydvil. This lady owed her position at
court to a situation in Queen Margaret’s retinue, and she readily accepted
his offer. Just as her husband helped on the building of the chapel of King’s,
she extended her aid to this other Lancastrian foundation, and, under her
protection, the work of building proceeded. The only alterations due to
Yorkist patronage were a new coat-of-arms for the college, and the change
of the title from Queen’s College in the singular to Queens’ College in the
plural. The invocation of St Margaret and St Bernard was retained without
alteration. The floriated cross of St Margaret and St Bernard’s crosier are to
be seen upon the groined roof of the gateway, and, later on, when Richard
III. gave a new coat-of-arms to the college in place of that granted by
Edward IV., these emblems appear surmounted by the well-known boar’s
head.
Doket died in 1484, and was succeeded by Thomas Wilkinson, whose
rule lasted till 1505. Then followed the three years during which John
Fisher, the celebrated Bishop of Rochester, was president. This great man
was one of that band of scholars and divines who reformed the state of
learning in England. Queens’ College probably owes to him the chief
episode in its history, the residence of Erasmus* within its walls. It is
improbable that Erasmus was at Queens’ during Fisher’s presidency, as has
been so generally supposed. He was invited to England by Henry VIII. soon
after 1509, and Fisher had given up the presidency in 1508. No doubt,

Fisher advised Erasmus, who, as Fuller says, “might have pickt and chose
what house he pleased,” to the cloistral seclusion of Queens’; and this is
more likely than the somewhat far-fetched alternative that he was “allured
with the situation of this Colledge so near the River, as Rotterdam his native
place to the Sea.” In fact, Erasmus was simply allured to Cambridge by the
prospect of work, and does not seem to have enjoyed life there at all. Three
of his letters are dated from Queens’ by name, and they, as well as the rest
written from no particular address in Cambridge, prove that he regarded his
work there as a pis aller. He complained of his situation, his food and drink.
Cambridge beer encouraged the most painful ailments. He wrote to a friend
for a cask of Greek wine. This rare beverage was finished all too soon;
when it was done, he kept the empty cask by him, that he might at least
refresh himself with the smell. He was ill most of his time; he was also
continually in want of money. His professorships were merely lectureships,
and his pay was probably small. Had it not been for the patronage of
Archbishop Warham and other lovers of learning, he might have fallen into
serious straits. At no time did he realise the value of money. Doubtless, he
represented himself as more unpleasantly situated than he actually was.
Like most delicate men, he was very self-conscious, and expected an
inordinate amount of praise and flattery, which it is hardly probable that he
obtained at Cambridge. On a previous visit to Oxford, he had been the
centre of a group of scholars; at Cambridge, he was isolated from his old
friends. We can therefore hardly trust to his vivacious narrative for an
accurate account of his Cambridge life. But, everything taken into
consideration, he was seriously discontented, and was glad to leave in 1514.
His memory has been more than ordinarily cherished in an University
which perhaps caressed him very little in his lifetime, and his prestige has
had a salutary influence on Cambridge scholarship. When he came to
Cambridge, he found the old scholastic learning, which he detested, still in
vogue; when he left, it was with the consciousness that he had inaugurated a
new era.
The next point in the history of Queens’ is its acquisition under Dr
William Mey of the Carmelite house which lay between the college and the
present site of King’s. This house was surrendered to the society in 1538,
just before the dissolution; but the interference of the Crown delayed the
completion of this transaction till 1544. The ground which thus came into
the possession of the president and fellows was the foundation of all their

future building. Dr Mey was deprived at the accession of Queen Mary, but
was restored in 1559. He lived for only a year afterwards. His next
successor but one was Dr William Chaderton, of whom Fuller has preserved
some curious anecdotes. He is reported to have said one day in a wedding
sermon “That the choice of a wife is full of hazard, not unlike as if one in a
barrel full of serpents should grope for one fish; if (saith he) he ’scape harm
of the snakes, and light on a fish, he may be thought fortunate, for perhaps
it may be but an eel.” The ingenuity of the comparison is very characteristic
of our Elizabethan universities, and is not a little in the manner of Fuller
himself. Fuller, indeed, received most of what he would have called his
“breeding” at Queens’, and, here and at Sidney, he picked up that curiously
miscellaneous knowledge which has made him one of our most entertaining
prose writers. He was essentially a Cambridge man, and in all his books,
however distant they are from the purpose, we trace a certain appeal to his
university. He was not less positive as to its antiquity than Dr Caius,
although he went less far back for its origin. His Church History records the
foundation of Cambridge as an University by Sigebert, King of the East
Anglians, and in the sequel punctiliously refers to the foundation of every
college as an important event in the history of the Church. He did for
Cambridge, in a more limited area, what Anthony Wood did for Oxford. His
politics were of an undecided kind, and he fell into disfavour with both
Parliamentarians and Royalists, but he was, in fact, a moderate partisan of
the King. There is a story that he was to have been made a bishop at the
Restoration, but he died before the offer was made.
John Davenant,* president from 1614 to 1622, was, as Bishop of
Salisbury, one of that galaxy of prelates which relieves the darkness of the
Civil Wars. He was the friend of George Herbert, whose parsonage of
Bemerton was within three miles of Salisbury. He died in 1641, before
affairs had come to their final climax. It is probable that he was guilty of
some of those numerous idolatries which Dowsing the iconoclast destroyed
on his visit to Cambridge. Dowsing visited the college on St Stephen’s Day,
1643, when he “beat down 110 superstitious pictures besides Cherubim and
Ingravings,” and “digged up the steps for three hours.” What Dowsing
would say to the internal fittings of the new chapel we have no idea! After
the storm had passed over and the Restoration had given back quiet to the
college, its history languished: and, although it has done well in the schools,
it cannot be said to have produced many men of great distinction. In Isaac

Milner (* Harlow), Dean of Carlisle and President from 1788 to 1820, it
had a Church historian of some reputation. Simon Patrick,* Bishop of Ely
during the reigns of William III. and Queen Anne, was a fellow here, and
was one of the latest survivors of the Laudian school. His account of the
opening of Edward the Confessor’s tomb is preserved in the University
Library in its original manuscript. He was a great theologian and something
of a controversialist. Quite recently the familiar figure of Dr Campion,*
Vicar of St Botolph’s and Honorary Canon of Ely, and President of Queens’
for the last five years of his life, has been removed from Cambridge. His
successor is Dr Herbert Ryle of King’s, who holds with the office the
Hulsean Professorship of Divinity.

XI
ST CATHARINE’S COLLEGE

I t has been said that the decorous quadrangle of St Catharine’s gives the
stranger the impression of an old manor house rather than of a college;
and the trees which guard it on the side of Trumpington Street are certainly
a party to the illusion. The western front of the college, which occupies one
side of King’s Lane, has a more definitely scholastic air. For the most part
the buildings are uninteresting. The tiny court at the north-west angle dates
from 1626; the rest of the college is the fruit of a rebuilding which went on
slowly from 1680 to 1755. Loggan, who published his illustrations soon
after the work was begun, figures, with some optimism, an eastern façade
with a central cupola. This, however, was never attempted. The chapel is an
interesting piece of Queen Anne architecture, dating from 1704; and lately a
fine organ by Norman & Beard of Norwich has been placed in it. In the
present century, the Hall has been restored in the Gothic style, but otherwise
no radical alteration has been made.

Sᵗ. Catharine’s College

S
t Catharine’s is, in a certain sense, the daughter of King’s, for its
founder was Robert Woodlark,* provost of the latter college. The
reason for its foundation is not very obvious: it was probably merely a
pious act on the part of Woodlark, of whom we know very little beyond
this. The site on which it stood occupied the greater part of that oblong
space which still is bounded on the north by King’s Lane and on the south
by Silver (then Small Bridges) Street. Even now the space is somewhat
cramped by houses; then the college was thoroughly “town-bound,” as
Fuller puts it. However, although one of the smallest colleges in Cambridge,
it has given, in comparison with its size, more famous men to England than
any college in either University. These men are all clergy, and their names
are among the most reverend in Church history. Seventy-four years after the
foundation of the college, Edwin Sandys* became master. He is chiefly
known as Archbishop of York and as a translator of the Bible, and, while in
exile abroad during Mary’s reign, he cultivated friendly relations with
foreign Protestant churches. As Master of St Catharine’s and Vice-
Chancellor, he went through a critical experience, which is narrated by
Fuller. The Duke of Northumberland, who was at Cambridge in the hope of
intercepting Mary’s progress from the Eastern Counties to London, ordered
Sandys to preach before him at the University Church. Sandys was a timid

man and had very little faith in Lady Jane Grey’s cause, so that the order
caused him some perplexity. He rose at a very early hour next morning, and
took the sortes Biblicae after the approved manner of the sixteenth century.
The text at which his Bible opened was the sixteenth and seventeenth verses
of the first chapter of Joshua, “All that thou commandest us we will do, and
whithersoever thou sendest us we will go. According as we hearkened unto
Moses in all things, so will we hearken unto thee: only the Lord thy God be
with thee, as he was with Moses.” He preached from this text in so politic a
manner that no one could find a handle of accusation against him. The
exacting Northumberland came back to Cambridge after a short tour in
Suffolk, well aware that his enterprise was over, and with the forlorn hope
that, if he proclaimed Mary queen, he might win his pardon. He invited
Sandys to join in the proclamation with him, but the Vice-Chancellor
refused with an answer that must have been a very cold comfort to
Northumberland. The Duke, however, went through the business
mechanically at the old Market Cross, and was arrested very soon
afterwards at his lodgings in King’s. Sandys escaped to the Netherlands,
and returned when Elizabeth came to the throne. He is buried at Southwell,
where the archbishops of York had one of their palaces.
John Overall, Bishop of Lichfield, and afterwards of Norwich, another of
the translators of the Bible, was master from 1598 to 1607. The college
leaned throughout its history to the Puritanic side of the religious question,
and Richard Sibbes, master from 1626 to 1635, is one of those strongly
Puritan divines who had the advantage of an University education. His
evangelical theology, rich in quaint phrase and full of ingenious learning, is
still popular with serious readers, although his fame has been somewhat
overshadowed by the greater names of Bunyan, Baxter, and John Owen. In
spite of this spiritual activity, it appears that the college was about this time
in a very bad and ruinous state, and, on the side of Trumpington Street, was
excessively cramped for room. During the mastership of John Hills, Sibbes’
predecessor, John Gostlin, the eccentric master of Caius, gave the Bull Inn,
which was his personal property, to the college, and thus the society was
enabled to enlarge its frontiers. Nevertheless, the commotions of the Civil
Wars delayed operations until long after the Restoration, when Dr John
Eachard, master in 1675, carried out the longed-for improvements. There is
no college whose external appearance belies a medieval foundation more
than St Catharine’s.

Side by side with Sibbes we may reckon the famous Dissenting preacher,
Edmund Calamy, who was also a member of this college and was connected
with Sidney as well. But, after the Restoration and Eachard’s
improvements, St Catharine’s settled down again to its episcopal traditions.
Sir William Dawes, Eachard’s successor from 1697 to 1714, was a worthy
but in no way remarkable Archbishop of York. During his time, however,
the society received a famous member in the militant Benjamin Hoadly,*
Bishop first of Bangor, then of Hereford, then of Salisbury, and lastly of
Winchester. It is curious that Hoadly, the typical Latitudinarian, as the ugly
phrase goes, of his age, and his opponent, the no less typical High
Churchman, William Law, were members of the two Cambridge colleges
which had shown most activity on the Puritan side, St Catharine’s and
Emmanuel. Hoadly’s book, On the Nature of the Kingdom and Church of
Christ, is his chief claim to celebrity, as the doctrines which it advocated
gave rise to the Bangorian Controversy and were the cause of many
polemical treatises which have a distinct literary rank.
Other members of St Catharine’s about the end of the seventeenth
century were Dr John Lightfoot,* master from 1650 to 1675, illustrious as
an Orientalist; John Strype, the ecclesiastical antiquarian, who died in 1737
at the advanced age of ninety-four; and John Ray,* the naturalist, who died
in 1705. In 1704, during Dawes’ mastership, the chapel was consecrated by
Bishop Simon Patrick of Ely, who was a member of Queens’ College. In
1714, Dawes was succeeded by Thomas Sherlock,* whose oratorical
powers gained him the Bishoprick of London. His sermons, which are
specimens of a cold and stilted kind of eloquence, are read no longer, but
his name survives as that of one of the great preachers of the last century.
His successors down to the end of the century have not much interest
outside the college. The long mastership of Dr Procter* covers almost the
first half of the nineteenth century. During his time, the versatile Dr Turton*
was fellow of the college and held various professorships. He became Dean
of Westminster and eventually Bishop of Ely, where he continued till within
comparatively recent years. He is perhaps best remembered as the composer
of one of the most beautiful hymn-tunes which we possess—the tune called
by him “Ely.” The college produced yet another bishop in Dr Procter’s
successor, Henry Philpott, who was made Bishop of Worcester in 1861. He
was succeeded by the present master, Dr Robinson. The mastership of St
Catharine’s is one of those pleasant posts, which, like Pembroke College at

Oxford, have a canonry attached to them. The canonry belonging to St
Catharine’s is at Norwich, the pleasantest of all English cathedral cities,
and, during the long vacation, the master fulfils his term of residence in the
Norwich close. Among recent distinguished members of St Catharine’s we
may mention Dr George Forrest Browne, late Disney Professor of
Archæology, who succeeded Dean Gregory as Canon of St Paul’s, and was,
in 1897, translated from the suffragan Bishoprick of Stepney to the revived
Bishoprick of Bristol.

XII
JESUS COLLEGE

Jesus College

B ishop Alcock’s gate-tower, a few years earlier than those of Christ’s
and St John’s, and almost contemporary with that of Queens’, forms a

charming prelude to this beautiful college. Its stepped battlements are
original, and its plan is more domestic than those of the other towers, which
have a very monastic appearance. The founder’s coat-of-arms, the three
cocks which the college has ever since borne as its cognisance, appear on
various parts of the tower and in the roof of the gateway; but the statue of
Bishop Alcock and a good deal of the decoration are new.[5] The tower is
the entrance to the outer court of the college, whose ivy-grown buildings
date from 1641. They are very fair late Gothic work and carefully follow
Alcock’s tower in their general lines; they are due to Richard Sterne
(master, 1633-1644 and again in 1660), but they were not actually finished
until the beginning of George the First’s reign. They occupy three sides of
the court; the western side is open, affording a good view of the towers in
the centre of the town. From the opposite side a low postern gateway (part
of the original work) leads into the inner court of the college, round which
the public buildings are situated. The Hall is on the north side; opposite it is
the Master’s Lodge and the nave of the chapel. The Library occupies the
west side, and the northern transept of the chapel the east side. This was
originally the cloister of the nunnery which was superseded by the college.
The cloisters which exist are subsequent to the founding of the college, and
for some time were shut in, like those at Wilton House. In the last century,
however, they were opened to the court, and now they are simply of the
ordinary covered type, without any wall of partition. A few years ago, while
repairs were being carried on in the eastern wall of these cloisters, just north
of the transept-end of the chapel, a beautiful triple arch of the Early English
period was laid open, and may now be examined. This was probably the
entrance to the nuns’ chapter-house. It is a very unique and delicate piece of
work, dating probably from about 1240, and compares very well with the
excellent work of that period to be found in Cambridgeshire.

Part of the chapel dates from the foundation of the nunnery, but a great
deal of it is Early English, and the whole building was remodelled by
Alcock on the collegiate principle. He seems to have cut away the aisles of
the convent church, leaving only the north choir aisle; he left the transepts
unchanged, save for a set of Perpendicular windows with scanty tracery,
which are repeated in the nave and choir. His east window has been taken
away and the Early English triplet restored. He thus made an ordinary
monastic building into an aisleless cruciform church, differing from a
college chapel only in that it retains a nave, in which respect it is unique. He
also added the Perpendicular upper storey to the central tower, the lower
half of which is Early English, and corresponds in its interior arcading with
the arches in the cloister. The upper storey of this earlier tower had fallen in
1297. On the whole, one can hardly give unqualified praise to Alcock for
his treatment of the building, but he made it answer his purposes very well.
Moreover, he gave it some beautiful stalls and a screen. Unfortunately,
these ornaments offended Georgian taste. The restoration of the chapel in
the last century was a wonderful proceeding. The walls were daubed with
yellow relieved by a low black dado, the ceiling was plastered, the best part
of the woodwork was removed to Landbeach Church, five miles on the way
to Ely, and the central lantern was closed up, so that the fine arcade was
completely hidden. To-day, however, we are able to see the chapel without
these encumbrances, for the restoration, begun in 1845 and continued to our
own day, has made it the most historical interior in Cambridge. The south
transept with its eastern gallery is for the most part Norman of a very
simple order, coeval with the foundation of the monastery. The central
tower, the choir and chancel are Early English, save for Alcock’s additions
on the south side, and the remaining aisle, which contains Decorated work.
The arcaded lancets on the north side of the chancel should be noticed: this

singularly graceful arrangement is almost unique. There is, however, an
example, completer and perhaps finer, at Cherry Hinton, within an hour’s
walk of Cambridge. Another specimen of local work is the double piscina,
whose splendid mouldings, crossing each other in the head of the arch, and
reminding one of well-folded linen, are only to be found in three or four
churches in, or immediately round the town. I have spoken of Alcock’s
Perpendicular work, which is of a kind more domestic than ecclesiastical.
The stalls and screen are rather more than forty years old, but they show a
taste of a kind unusual at that time, and are much improved by the dim light
of the whole building. This dimness is due to the stained glass, which is all
modern. The glass in the lancets is by Hardman; it is not very good, but it is
unobtrusive. That in Alcock’s two choir windows was put in rather earlier
by the restorers of 1845-9; it is the great defect in their work. But the eleven
perpendicular windows of the antechapel, including the enormous south
window, have been filled with glass by Sir Edward Burne-Jones and Mr
William Morris; and their magnificent, if somewhat secular, work, serves to
hide the shallowness and unoriginality of the stonework. It is a pity that, in
one or two places, the colours already show signs of decaying; but, on the
whole, the two great artists seldom collaborated to such purpose or found
such excellent material for their work. The organ at the west end is new, and
there is perhaps too little space for it. The older organ, a small instrument
with a triptych front, is in the choir aisle, and has an appearance strongly
suggestive of the bygone monasticism of the place.
The rest of the Court, Hall, Library and Master’s Lodge are much as the
founder left them, although their outer shell has been from time to time
considerably altered. The Hall, with its dark lobby on the ground floor and
its staircase, is a fine room, occupying the position of the convent refectory.
There are some good portraits here and in the Combination Room,

including one of Cranmer in the manner of Holbein. The Hall was
wainscoted early in the last century. Since then and since the completion of
the outer court, the college has received no structural additions to its main
body.[6] Within the last thirty years, however, the need for accommodation
has increased; and we owe to it, first, Messrs Carpenter and Ingelow’s brick
range of buildings north of the college and their houses for married tutors;
and, secondly, the great building, also of brick, which Waterhouse built
about 1869 at the end of the garden east of the chapel. His work here is
better than usual, and forms a picturesque outpost to the colleges as one
crosses the end of Midsummer Common by the Newmarket Road. The
Jesus close, with its great palisade of trees and its view of the boathouses on
one side and the venerable chapel tower on the other, almost rivals the
Backs in beauty.

J ohn Alcock, Bishop of Ely, whose chantry chapel by Torregiano is one of
the chief glories of his diocesan cathedral, left a more important
monument to posterity in the shape of Jesus College. In 1497 he
obtained a charter for his foundation, which succeeded a house of
Benedictine nuns, existing under the invocation of the Blessed Virgin and St
Rhadegund. This religious establishment had been founded in 1133 by
favour of Malcolm IV. of Scotland, Earl of Huntingdon, and its chief
benefactress was Constance of France, daughter of Louis VI. and widow of
King Stephen’s son Eustace. Started under these auspices, it became one of
the most important conventual houses in Cambridge, and received in its
various vicissitudes help from divers quarters. In 1297, the chapel tower
fell; there were fires in 1343 and 1376; in 1390, the buildings were
seriously injured by a storm. It is possible that the morality of the house,
which enjoyed great popularity, grew lax, and that the change was
necessary. This was at all events the excuse for the disestablishment of the
convent. However, Mr Clark, in his chapter on the college, proves with
great likelihood that these complaints were merely superficial. The fact is
that the demand for education was increasing, and the supply was furnished
at the expense of the old monastic houses. At its dissolution the revenue of

the nunnery was considerable. Alcock kept up the traditions of the site by
dedicating his college to the Blessed Virgin, St John the evangelist and St
Rhadegund, but the title was soon exchanged for the name of Jesus. By its
foundation a precedent was set for other colleges to follow. After Jesus,
other foundations were erected on the site of some monastery or hospital;
even some of those existing, such as Queens’, bought up monastic property
and enriched themselves with it.
Jesus College took for its first shield the curious device of the five
wounds of Christ. But in 1575, it received its present coat-of-arms in
memory of its founder. The three cocks’ heads erased have always been a
feature of the college very much in evidence; they appear constantly in the
buildings, and, in the cloister court, may still be seen the two cocks, one of
whom says to the other from the library wall “ἐγὼ εὶμὶ ἀλεκτὼρ” (I am a
cock), while the other, from the hall, bears in his mouth a similar scroll
inscribed “οὓτως καί ἐγὼ” (And so am I). Soon after Alcock’s time, the
college brought forth a fruit of the new learning in the shape of Thomas
Cranmer,* who was a fellow here for some time. He lost his fellowship by
his marriage. He contracted an alliance with the niece of the landlady of the
Dolphin, an inn close to what is now All Saints’ Passage, and, having
resigned his fellowship in consequence, lived at the inn for some time.
Cambridge was a great university for reformers, and at this time a number
of men who afterwards became distinguished for the novelty of their
opinions were in residence. The college has honoured Cranmer’s memory,
and one of its most popular social clubs is named after him. Readers of
history know that Cranmer was no less eminent as statesman and man of
letters than as reformer, and his college may be justly proud of him. His
portraits are interesting. The picture in the Hall is supposed to be a copy by
Reynolds from an older picture. In the Combination Room is the portrait
dated 1548, similar to the portrait of 1546 by Fliccius, now in the National
Portrait Gallery. And in the Master’s Lodge is another portrait which is
probably a copy of the last. Both these latter portraits have been attributed
to Holbein.
The name of William Bancroft,* Archbishop of Canterbury, brings us to
the reign of James I. That wise monarch, on his visit to the University,
professed a wish the justice of which most of us have acknowledged, that,
were he at Cambridge, he would “pray at King’s, dine at Trinity and sleep at

Jesus.” The master at this date was Dr John Duport. Jesus was, of all
colleges, most loyal to the Stewarts. Dr William Beale, master in 1632, and
removed to St John’s in the next year, was a constant royalist. His
successor, Dr Richard Sterne,* was entirely of the same opinion. He, with
Dr Beale and Dr Martin of Queens’, formed a sort of syndicate for melting
college plate and sending it to the King; and was accordingly arrested by
Cromwell and imprisoned in the Tower. His friends shared the same fate;
but Sterne was probably especially marked out for this favour, as he had
been Laud’s chaplain and had attended him on the scaffold. After the
Restoration, he resumed his mastership, but he was removed in the same
year to higher honours. In 1664 he was made Archbishop of York, and died
in 1683. His portrait in the Hall was presented by his nephew Laurence
Sterne (* Alan Ramsay) who was later on a pensioner of Jesus. Laurence
Sterne, who also took holy orders, was a different type of man from his
uncle. The great sentimentalist is one of the most distinguished alumni of
Jesus, although he did very little at college. As author of Tristram Shandy
and The Sentimental Journey, as fashionable preacher and as wit, the
eccentric Vicar of Coxwold has achieved a reputation only a little below
that of Fielding, on the one hand, and of Swift, on the other.
In the meantime, Dr Sterne was succeeded by Dr John Pearson, who,
after shedding his lustre on several colleges, became Master of Trinity and
finally Bishop of Chester. It is fortunate for his various colleges that the
honours of this great theologian have been so divided. About this time we
come to the revered name of Tobias Rustat (* Lely) Gentleman of the
Robes, who was a great benefactor to the college and founded the Rustat
scholarships. Even to-day the Rustat scholars of Jesus wear a peculiar gown
of their own, differing slightly from the gowns of the rest of the college.
Rustat is buried in the chapel, like Dr Ashton at St John’s, and the college
has reason to remember his name with the gratitude which Ashton’s
liberality excited in Thomas Baker. He may, indeed, be regarded almost as a
second founder of the college.
The masters of the eighteenth century were, for the most part, stately and
important men who received a great deal of promotion. Dr Charles Ashton,
of whom the college possesses two portraits, was master for fifty-one years,
from 1701 to 1752. In his time there was at Jesus a whilom famous scholar,
Dr John Jortin,* to whom we owe the very careful but extremely dull life of

Erasmus. He was a popular divine, and combined the lucrative posts of
Archdeacon of London, Rector of St Dunstan’s in the East, and Vicar of
Kensington. Dr Ashton was succeeded by Dr Philip Yonge, who was master
for six years, and was then made Bishop of Bristol, being eventually
translated to Norwich in 1761. His portrait in the Master’s Lodge is said to
be by Reynolds. His successor, Dr Lynford Caryl (* from a portrait by
Wright of Derby), is remarkable for little save his picturesque name. He, in
his turn, give place to Richard Beadon,* who was removed to Gloucester in
1789 and died as Bishop of Bath and Wells in 1824.
When Dr William Pearce (* Beechey) was Master—he was also Master
of the Temple and Dean of Ely—Samuel Taylor Coleridge (* from
Washington Allston) came into residence. Coleridge was two years younger
than Wordsworth, and came up after the elder poet had gone abroad to
watch the French Revolution. Less fortunate than Wordsworth, he left
Cambridge in 1794 without his degree, in this anticipating Tennyson. Like
most poets, he formed few friendships while at Cambridge, and took no
considerable part in the academic life of his day. Milton, whose genius was
eminently academic, is the exception to this rule. We find it difficult, on the
other hand, to look upon Coleridge as an University man, and the same
difficulty would occur with regard to Wordsworth, were it not for his
minute account of his life at St John’s. Shelley, also, who was twenty years
younger than Coleridge, took no degree at Oxford. Nevertheless, the
colleges of these unsatisfactory students have, since their death, conspired
to honour them, and doubtless to many Jesus men Coleridge is their genius
loci very much as Shelley is to men at University College.
Dr Clarke, Professor of Mineralogy (* Opie) was a contemporary of
Coleridge who preferred to close his University life in the orthodox way. He
died in 1822, when Dr French* had succeeded Dr Pearce in the mastership.
The days of ecclesiastical preferment ceased with Dr Pearce, and his
successors were content to hold quiet country livings with their mastership.
This was the case with the late master, Dr Corrie,* who divided his time
between the college and his pleasant rectory of Newton-in-the-Isle. The last
ten years of his rule were remarkable for the supremacy of Jesus as head of
the river, when the college was full of oarsmen like Mr Shafto and the late
Mr Edward Prest. It is matter of history how, when the boat “went down”
for the first time in ten years, the Jesus men appeared on the river and the

towing-path in mourning. In 1885 Dr Morgan (* Collier), the brother of a
celebrated Oxford man, the late Sir George Osborne Morgan, became
master, and under him the college, if less successful on the river, has
preserved its old reputation. Among the modern sons of the college we
should remember Dr Wilkinson,* the present Anglican Bishop in North and
Central Europe, originally Missionary Bishop in Zululand, and the Rev.
Osmond Fisher,* Honorary Fellow, to whose antiquarian zeal the college is
indebted for the excavation of its monastic remains.

XIII
CHRIST’S COLLEGE

Christ’s College

C hrist’s may be cited as a fair specimen of the normal Cambridge
college. Its court and gate-tower have suffered considerably since they

were first built, having been recased with stone in 1724. This pious work
was undertaken with funds supplied by Dr Thomas Lynford, fellow of the
college and Archdeacon of Barnstaple, and is as well done as one can
expect of anything so radical. Two years later, the west front of Pembroke
was treated in the same way, and the two may be cited together as in some
measure a vindication of the early Georgian restorer. All that was done was
to make the face of the college flat and remove all superficial irregularities,
while the general lines of the building were scrupulously maintained. Dr
Lynford is not responsible for the interior of the court, which belongs to a
later part of the century, and is due to Essex or one of his kind. Originally,
we may imagine a quadrangle of dark red brick, very like the courts at St
John’s and Queens’. The gate-towers of all three colleges are very similar;
in that of Christ’s the foundress’ statue is a modern addition. The present
chapel, north of the court, is substantially the chapel of Lady Margaret
Beaufort’s foundation, and the small vestries are partly of that date. As for
the rest, it is very good work of the middle of the last century imposed on
Italian Gothic, and the antechapel, with its wooden columns, is admirable.
Above the altar is a good window by some German or Flemish artist, not
unlike the east window at Peterhouse, and of much the same period. The
organ, in a gallery north of the sanctuary, is by Father Smith, and the case is
an excellent piece of woodwork. At the west end is a curious portrait of the
foundress, and the chapel has a strong historical interest as the burying-
place of the Cambridge Platonists, Cudworth, More, and Mede.
Between the Chapel and Hall stands the Master’s Lodge, placed so as to
communicate with both. The Hall has been very well restored, and is now a
good Gothic hall, with an oriel full of excellent portrait glass, representing
all the worthies of the college, from the Lady Margaret down to Paley in his
archdeacon’s apron and Darwin in his doctor’s gown. Beyond the hall, and

facing westwards, is the lovely building of 1642, which is usually attributed
to Inigo Jones. A range of older buildings, constituting the south side of the
court, used to impede the full view of this beautiful structure; but these
were moved back early in the century, and rebuilt in the hideous taste of the
time. However, we are the gainers by it. Although the work at Clare is, as a
whole, a better specimen of the period, the Christ’s building has the
advantage of perfect uniformity, and is an excellent example of the
transition from Renaissance Gothic to the style of which Wren is the chief
exponent. Its base is pierced by a gateway leading into the famous garden, a
classic resort which is a very competent rival of any garden at Oxford. Of
the new buildings at the north-eastern extremity of the college, it is
unnecessary to say anything; they are moderate, but are hardly worth a
detailed inspection. Their architect was Mr J. J. Stevenson. Within the last
three years Messrs Bodley and Garner have been employed upon the street
front, and, needless to say, have restored it with their usual conservative
skill.

F or the beginnings of Christ’s College we must go back to the year 1436.
William Bingham, Rector of St John Zachary in the city of London,
founded a small hostel or Grammar College in connection with Clare,
and placed it on a site which is now occupied by the western part of King’s
College Chapel and a portion of the great court of King’s. Four years later,
Henry VI.’s great experiment forced Bingham to seek other quarters, which
he eventually found in Preachers’ Street, the thoroughfare leading from the
Barnwell Gate to the Dominican Friary. Here he re-founded his college
under the picturesque name of God’s House, which it had already borne in
its former position. But, like so many similar institutions, its revenues
languished. Bingham’s society was to consist of a master with the title of
Proctor, and of twenty-four scholars. By the beginning of the sixteenth
century, the house maintained only four scholars besides the Proctor. There
is a story that the great John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, was bred at this
hostel; and that his affection for it was the cause which moved him to bring

its destitution to the notice of his friend, Lady Margaret Beaufort. It is, at all
events, more than certain that Fisher, who guided his patroness in her pious
resolves, called her attention to the case, and so laid the foundation, as it
were, of Christ’s and St John’s. There is no satisfactory evidence as to the
time at which she conceived the idea of founding St John’s. Probably, the
notion of a college had taken her fancy long before, and it is not unlikely
that the opportunity of founding two colleges presented itself at one time.
At any rate, her first work was to re-establish God’s House in 1505. The
task of converting St John’s Hospital into St John’s College required several
years of preliminaries and formalities. But in God’s House she had a college
already to her hand. Henry VI. had apparently promised Bingham some
compensation for the removal of the house, but the greater work of
founding King’s and the civil troubles which soon engrossed the crown had
prevented him from fulfilling his promise. The Lady Margaret, devoted to
the memory of the “royal saint,” endowed the society on the scale approved
by him, and provided funds for the maintenance of a master, twelve fellows
and forty-seven scholars. And “from her singular devotion to the name of
Jesus Christ”—the same motive which had prompted Alcock to call his
foundation Jesus College—she founded the college under the invocation of
Christ. We have thus two colleges at Cambridge which recall the popular
devotion of the Name of Jesus, then lately established and approved.
It may or may not be true that the foundress had rooms reserved for her
use in the Master’s Lodge. The story seems contrary to the spirit of that age
or of any other, but a point may have been stretched in her favour. The
testimony for this legend rests upon an anecdote told by Fuller. “The Lady
Margaret,” he says, “once … came to Christ’s College to behold it when
partly built, and looking out of a window, saw the dean call a faulty scholar
to correction, to whom she said ‘lente, lente,’ gently, gently, as accounting it
better to mitigate his punishment than to procure his pardon; mercy and
justice making the best medley to offenders.” This is scarcely sufficient
authority for the tradition. There are no less than four portraits of the Lady
Margaret in the college, the best of which is perhaps that at the west end of
the chapel, closely resembling the picture in the hall at St John’s. The
Combination Room also contains a portrait of Bishop Fisher, and both these
pious friends of learning are commemorated in the oriel of the Hall. From
the foundation of the college onwards, its history has been peaceful and
comparatively uneventful. In its early years, it seems to have anticipated the

lodging-house system, for we are told that some of the scholars were lodged
in the Brazen George, an inn opposite the college, and that the doors of this
hostelry were closed and opened at the same time as the doors of the
college.
Leland the antiquary and Hugh Latimer were among the earlier members
of the college. But the history of Christ’s is centred in one event, the seven
years’ residence of John Milton, who entered as a pensioner in 1625, and
went down with his Master’s degree in 1632. “John Milton of London,” the
entry runs in English “son of John Milton, was initialed in the elements of
letters under Mr Gill, Master of St Paul’s School; was admitted a lesser
pensioner Feb. 12th, 1624 [O.S.] under Mr Chappell, and paid entrance fee
10s.” Mr Chappell, on the authority of Dr Johnson, is said to have flogged
the poet. “There is reason to believe that Milton was regarded in his college
with no great fondness. That he obtained no fellowship is certain, but the
unkindness with which he was treated was not merely negative.” Milton
himself says enough to make the truth of this statement at least doubtful; for
his language, ten years after his departure from Cambridge, is not merely
the language of a man who had forgotten old grudges, but breathes a lively
affection for his college. The flogging possibly took place; the University
was then nothing but a large public school, and each college was a separate
boarding-house. Milton, when he went up, was just sixteen, and boys of
sixteen are not past flogging. If he went down without a fellowship, he was
surely, in spite of that, a most promising student. His Latin verses, which
we still read as we read Ovid and Propertius, are the finest poetry, and not
mere academical exercises; his skill in Italian marks a degree of culture
unknown even in that Italianised age. In addition to his scholarship, he
possessed extraordinary personal beauty, which gives him among poets
something of that eminence possessed by Raffaelle among painters. We are
told that he was called the “Lady of the College.” And, while at Christ’s, he
wrote some of his most lasting works, including the famous Hymn on the
Nativity, which was written in 1629. His verses on Hobson, the University
carrier, are well known, and Lycidas, the elegy on his college friend,
Edward King, appeared at Cambridge in 1637. His noble Verses at a
Solemn Musick, containing some of the finest and most imaginative lines in
English, belong to this early period. The master under whom his residence
took place was Dr Thomas Bainbrigge, master from 1620 to 1645.
Cromwell had gone down from Sidney before Milton came up to Christ’s,

but he was still in the neighbourhood of Cambridge. Milton’s mulberry-tree,
the Palladium of the college, may or may not be Milton’s; but to believe the
tradition does no violence to our faith. The memory of Milton had a more
than usually potent influence on another poet, Wordsworth.

Among the band of my compeers was one
Whom chance had stationed in the very room
Honoured by Milton’s name. O temperate Bard!
Be it confest that, for the first time, seated
Within thy innocent lodge and oratory,
One of a festive circle, I poured out
Libations, to thy memory drank, till pride
And gratitude grew dizzy in a brain
Never excited by the fumes of wine
Before that hour, or since.

And this, from internal evidence, must have been on a winter Sunday
afternoon before chapel! For the inebriated poet, always a sad idler at
Cambridge, had to run back “ostrich-like” to chapel, where he arrived late
and, full of wine and Milton, swaggered up to his place through “the
inferior throng of plain Burghers.” Here was a young gentleman who
deserved flogging!
But the presence of Milton must not allow us to forget the band of
contemplative scholars and philosophers who, in his time, were the ruling
influence in the college, and now lie beneath the chapel floor. The course of
the reformed and Puritan doctrines was largely determined by the study of
Platonic philosophy, just as the Aristotelian system had allied itself to
Catholic theology. Platonism in Cambridge is the result of two opposing
forces: on the positive side, the teaching of Erasmus; on the negative side,
the publication of Hobbes’ Leviathan in 1651. This book received many
reputations from Cambridge men; two of the best known are the work of Dr
Bramhall of Sidney, Bishop of Derry and afterwards Primate of Ireland, and
of Dr Cumberland of Magdalene, the painful Bishop of Peterborough. But
the most effective opposition to Hobbes’ materialistic and mathematical
science came from Christ’s. The first of the Cambridge Platonists was the
meditative Mede, who died in 1638. He was a fellow of the college in
Milton’s time, and spent his days in wandering about the college backs and

fields, absorbed in mystical speculation, of which the eventual outcome was
his work on the Apocalypse. In the evening, members of the college would
resort to his rooms, and he would ask them “Quid dubitas? What doubts
have you met in your studies to-day?” and, having heard their answers,
would set their minds at rest and dismiss them with prayer. But Mede was
scarcely so remarkable as Henry More, the author of the Mystery of
Godliness and other books, who devoted his life at Cambridge to Platonic
speculations, and even extended his enquiries to the Neo-Platonic writers
and the Hebrew Cabala. Ralph Cudworth* was three years his junior, and
survived him one year. This man, the greatest of the company, was Master
of Clare for some time, and, in 1654, became Master of Christ’s, where he
remained, unmoved by the Restoration, till his death in 1688. He was the
most powerful of Hobbes’ adversaries, and his True Intellectual System of
the Universe, published in 1678, is a fairly convincing counterblast to the
Leviathan. However, Cudworth was rather a talented pedant than a genius:
he lessened the value of his work by recondite allusions, and his critical
capacity was impaired by prejudice. But, in that age of laborious theology,
Cudworth’s book deserves a position next to, although far below,
Leighton’s commentary on St Peter.
It is a somewhat melancholy fact that the only other poet of whom
Christ’s can boast besides Milton is that master of tortured conceits, Francis
Quarles. Curiously enough, the portrait, probably of Quarles, in the
Combination Room, which bears the motto “Nec ingratus nec inutilis videar
vixisse” was at one time supposed to be that of Milton. But the college has
had eminent students in other departments. Dr Seth Ward,* a little younger
than Milton, is known as the Bishop of Salisbury during the time of James
II. and the Revolution. In 1766, at the age of twenty-three, William Paley*
was elected a fellow, and remained at Cambridge for ten years. Paley’s early
life is said to have been careless and riotous. One morning, however, when
lying late in bed, a friend and boon-companion came into his room, and
treated him to what is sometimes known as a “straight talk.” This
admonition awakened Paley’s conscience, and led in time to the publication
of the famous Evidences of Christianity and to the Archdeaconry of
Carlisle. In all probability, no historical name is so often on the
undergraduate’s lips—not always with blessings—as the name of this
reclaimed ne’er-do-weel. The Evidences, as is well known, form part of the
subjects for the Previous Examination or Little-Go, and have in this

capacity given birth to an especial department of literature in the shape of
“Paley Sheets” and other précis of the heavy work. A less logical but more
human theologian was John Kaye,* master from 1814 to 1830, and Bishop
successively of Bristol and Lincoln.
If, among statesmen, Christ’s can put forward Lord Liverpool, famous for
his interminable ministry of more than twenty years, she has had in science,
a son who is as famous in his branch of study as Milton is in poetry. This
was Charles Robert Darwin (* Ouless) who came up to Christ’s in the
twenties with the intention of taking holy orders. At Cambridge, however,
he found such opportunities for research that he abandoned his design, and,
at the recommendation of Professor Henslow, who then held the botanical
chair, went out as naturalist to the Beagle. This was the beginning of his
scientific career and of the revolution in biological science which he
effected. A tablet with his profile in relief has been placed in the room
occupied by him, which is at present occupied by the Norrisian Professor of
Divinity, Dr Armitage Robinson. To-day Christ’s not only claims as its
master Dr John Peile, the eminent classical philologist, but the greatest of
living scholars who have devoted themselves to the study of their own
language—the editor of Langland and Chaucer, Professor Skeat. And
Cambridge men will always remember with pleasure that Christ’s was the
college of the most pleasant of all English versifiers, Charles Stuart
Calverley (then Blayds) who not only, by his light verses, added to the
gaiety of the nation, but, by his translation of Theocritus, increased the
range of English poetry.

XIV
ST JOHN’S COLLEGE

Sᵗ. John’s

T he first court of St John’s is almost as composite as the Great Court of
Trinity, and the want of harmony between its parts is rather painfully

evident. The chapel, however, is the only important extension of the
original plan as carried out by the Lady Margaret’s executors, and the rest
of the court survives with certain changes. The gateway of the college is
one of the gate-towers so characteristic of Cambridge, and is perhaps the
most beautiful of all. One of the great advantages of St John’s is that it is
built of red brick, which, with time, has assumed a mellow appearance; and
thus it is, in certain respects, one of the most picturesque colleges in the
University. The court and tower belong to 1520. Above the doorway, on the
street side, are the arms of Lady Margaret, supported by the Beaufort
antelopes, on a ground in which the daisy, the foundress’ punning emblem,
occurs very lavishly. Although much obliterated by time, this is still a very
good piece of heraldic sculpture. Other familiar signs, which the least
archæological undergraduate learns to recognise, are the Tudor rose and
Beaufort portcullis. Above this elaborate armorial display is a figure of St
John the Evangelist, added in 1662. Lady Margaret’s statue is to be found in
an ugly niche over the entrance to the Hall screens; it is in a pseudo-
classical taste, and exaggerates her pious emaciation of feature.

The Hall has been altered a good deal, but it is an interesting apartment,
long, dark and narrow, like a conventual refectory. Its darkness is due partly
to the fine wainscoting, which is of the linen-pattern, partly to the deep
colours of the heraldic windows, whose interest is historical rather than
artistic. The fresco of the upper part is not very successful. At the end of the
hall is a curious portrait of the foundress, in the manner of Lucas van Heere,
which bears comparison with her picture in Christ’s. She is supported by
full-length portraits of Archbishop Williams and Ralph Hare, benefactors to
the college. One of the most interesting pictures is the well-known portrait
of Wordsworth by Pickersgill; and the modern portrait of Professor Palmer
in full Arab attire (John Collier) usually attracts comment. St John’s Hall is

not rich in portraits, a deficiency which is remedied by the collection at the
Lodge.

Sᵗ. John’s

No other college unfolds its architectural history in so leisurely a way as
St John’s. We pass from the first to the second court, from 1520 to 1598. In
the latter year, Ralph Symons, who was supplying Dr Nevile at Trinity with
designs, began to build this beautiful quadrangle. Mary Cavendish,

Countess of Shrewsbury, is the benefactress to whom the college is
indebted, and her statue occupies the niche over the gate-tower between this
and the third court. Some will have it that this is the best piece of
contemporary building in Cambridge, and it certainly has a peculiar charm,
due to its studious, sober air. The sole ornaments of this gabled enclosure
are the two charming oriels in the centre of the north and south side, and the
gate-tower, which is not unlike the similar tower at Hampton Court. Along
the first floor of the north side of the court runs the long gallery, once a part
of the Master’s Lodge, but now the Combination Room. It is the best
Combination Room in Oxford or Cambridge. At present it is divided into
two parts by a wainscoting, but this hinders the general effect very little.
The plastered ceiling is very richly ornamented with pendants and formal
arabesques, and has much in common with other splendid ceilings of the
same date. When the doors of the inner room and of the library beyond are
both open, an incomparable vista is obtained, and the two apartments are
transformed into a single gallery.

As a matter of fact, a landing, approached from the second court by a
picturesque oak staircase, separates the Combination Room from the
Library, which occupies the whole north side of the somewhat gloomy third
court. Over the door are the arms of Lord Keeper Williams, impaled on the
coat of his see of Lincoln. This famous prelate contributed entirely to its
erection, and his initials and the date 1624 are lettered in white stone
outside the western oriel. It was completed in 1628, and remains unaltered,
a very charming specimen of Italian Gothic. Its interior, with its high timber
roof and fine bookcases, is the beau idéal of a library interior. There are two
stories: the upper contains the valuable collection of ancient books and the
bequests of various benefactors such as Matthew Prior, the lower is devoted
to more modern books. The rest of the court was not built till 1669, and is

therefore a little later than the buildings at Clare, with which it has some
affinity. Its western gateway and cloister form an excellent termination to
the long perspective of St John’s from the outer street. And the view of the
court and library from the river is too well known to need remark.

Bridges of Sᵗ. John’s

Beyond the third court we are on modern ground. Mr Rickman’s Bridge
of Sighs is the beginning of the long cloister which forms one side of the

New Court. The view from the bridge, including Ralph Symons’ lovely
Kitchen Bridge and the sweep of the Cam as it rounds the corner opposite
Trinity Library, is more beautiful than the bridge itself; but the bridge, in its
turn, is the most meritorious part of this immense court, in itself a college. It
was built from Mr Rickman’s designs between 1827 and 1831, and is a
proof of the common criticism that its architect’s theory was vastly superior
to his practice. The extremely ornate cloister, with its traceried openings
and vast central gateway, has no raison d’être, and the rest of the court is
merely a huge barrack with a pretentious central staircase. From certain
parts of the “Backs,” when the shallow detail is sufficiently screened by
trees, it forms an effective background to the prospect; but, near at hand, its
effect is bare and ponderous.
All modern changes in the original buildings are to be found in the first
court. In the original plan the Master’s Lodge adjoined the Hall on the
south, and the Chapel on the north, and filled up an angle between them.
The court existed thus till 1774, when Essex came here, as to other colleges,
and faced the south side with the present front, which might be creditable in
Harley Street or Cavendish Square, but is merely ugly in a college. Further,
in the early sixties, the College resolved to build a new chapel. The old one,
whose site is marked by the slabs in the grass south of the existing chapel,
was never a very remarkable building and was quite inadequate. So, in
1863, Sir Gilbert Scott came, built the chapel, and remodelled the court.
The Master’s Lodge was taken down, the Hall was lengthened by two bays,
one of which is a new oriel, the staircase and lobby leading to the
Combination Room were made, and the new Lodge was built on the ground
north of the Library. Scott’s immense chapel is, no doubt, too large for its
purpose, and the heavy tower is painfully out of proportion to the rest,
especially when seen from the west end. The style is typical of the

architect’s genius for imitation. He knew two buildings by heart, the Sainte
Chapelle and the Angel Choir at Lincoln, and he put them into all his
designs with a fatal formality. The exterior of St John’s Chapel is somewhat
tedious, and every detail is just a little too prominent—the statues in the
buttresses, for example. On the whole, Scott’s chapel at Exeter College,
Oxford, is much better. But inside the building is very striking, especially
the transeptal antechapel, which, in spite of the bad glass at the north end,
recalls the antechapel of New College at Oxford. The tower inside is open
to the first storey, and in the higher window there are good fragments of old
glass. The glass in the inner chapel and in the great west window is by
Clayton and Bell. Lord Powis, High Steward of the University at the time,
gave the windows in the apse, and the rest are in memory of friends and
benefactors of the college. The chapel was consecrated in 1869 by Dr
Harold Browne, then Bishop of Ely. Some of the old stalls from the original
chapel, with their miserere seats, have been kept; and the fine Early English
piscina which belonged to the chapel of St John’s Hospital has been
incorporated in the arcading of the chancel. It belongs to a local class which
includes the piscina at Jesus Chapel and the piscinae in the transepts at
Histon, three miles away. Another relic is the altar tomb of Hugh Ashton,
Archdeacon of York, who was one of the foundress’ executors and died in
1522. The upper portion of the monument is canopied and richly coloured;
the lower part is open and contains the “cadaver,” which was fashionable
with ecclesiastics of the day. Ashton’s rebus, an ash growing out of a tun,
appears in various parts of the base and canopy. In the antechapel also are
Baily’s statue of Dr Wood, Master of St John’s and Dean of Ely, and the old
altar-piece by Raphael Mengs. Other objects of interest are the paintings on
the roof, a procession of illustrious Churchmen and Churchwomen of every
age leading up to the figure of Our Lord in glory, which occupies the centre

panel of the roof in the apse; the fine organ by Messrs Hill; and the marbles
in the chancel. The chapel is 172 feet long and 63 feet high to the inner
roof. The pitch of the outer roof is 80 feet, and the tower rises to 140 feet.

The Master’s Lodge is a comfortable building, and contains a number of
pictures, including two portraits of Charles I. and Henrietta Maria by
Vandyck, and a large portrait of Matthew Prior (Rigaud) in his official
robes. Since then, the only addition of structural importance to this
interesting college has been the wing known as the Chapel Court, which
runs at right angles to the main building opposite the west door of the
chapel. This was added in 1884, by Mr F. C. Penrose, and is of red brick
with white stone dressings and with a louvre in the centre. The college
grounds have been laid out from time to time, and, with their winding walks
and beautiful Fellow’s Garden, are the most interesting and romantic of all
the gardens near the river.

I
n founding St John’s College, Lady Margaret Beaufort followed the
precedent of Bishop Alcock. It is curious to observe how the most
fervent Catholics of the Renaissance era subordinated monasticism to the
revived learning and disestablished religious houses on merely nominal
pretexts. The close likeness between the document which explains the
dissolution of St Rhadegund’s Nunnery and that which excused the
abolition of St John’s Hospital detracts from the value of the charges they
contain and leads us to believe that they are merely repetitions of a
recognised form. St John’s Hospital was a small religious alms-house which
had been founded in 1135 by one Henry Frost, and was under the
management of Black Canons. It had a certain importance as being the first
site of Hugh de Balsham’s collegiate scheme. He grafted his scholars upon
the monastic stock, but his plan was anything but a success, and he removed
his protégés to Peterhouse. The hospital was not a very flourishing affair,
and, whether the charges of immorality were true or not, there was
sufficient excuse for its dissolution in the fact that in 1509 it contained only
two brethren. The Lady Margaret, in that same year, the year of her own

and her son’s death, obtained leave to suppress it and found a college on its
site. She had been prompted to this work by her confessor and faithful
adviser, John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, himself a man of great
distinction in the University, a friend of learned men and a patron of study.
And, although the college is very justly proud of its royal foundress and
shares her coat-of-arms with Christ’s College, the active part of the work
was carried out by Fisher as her executor. The Charter of foundation was
granted by Henry VIII. in 1511, and Fisher himself consecrated the Chapel
in 1516. It follows that, although Fisher was a member of Queens’ College,
his name is connected almost entirely with St John’s. This close relation of
one man to two colleges is clearly manifested by the likeness which those
parts of St John’s built by Fisher’s instrumentality bear to parts of Queens’
College.
St John’s College was the last and greatest of the Lady Margaret’s works.
When we think of the benefits which she conferred on Oxford and
Cambridge, her noble provisions for the theological schools of both
Universities, and her two foundations in Cambridge, we can only echo the
words of the funeral sermon preached by Fisher in her honour, that the
“students of both Universities, to whom she was as a mother … for her
death had cause of weeping.” Very few colleges have so tender an
attachment to a founder’s memory as that which St John’s has for Lady
Margaret’s; there are very few colleges which are so haunted, as it were, by
their founder’s spirit. And the history of St John’s is a record worthy of the
Lady Margaret. Although, in after years, it was a little overshadowed by the
greater glory of Trinity, it kept the second place against all competitors, and
its roll of illustrious names is almost as crowded as that of Trinity itself.
The first master was Robert Shorton, who continued in the college for
five years, after which time he became Master of Pembroke. His portrait is
to be found among the great collection in the Master’s Lodge. The early
masters of the college followed one another very rapidly; in fact, between
1511 and 1612 we find no less than seventeen names, an almost unique
instance of quick succession. Under the Tudors, too, the college history is
not profoundly interesting. It is evident that, during the reign of Edward VI.,
the fashionable Genevan doctrines became popular in the college. Thomas
Leaver, master in 1551, was a supporter of the new religion, and was, of
course, ejected by Mary. However, with Elizabeth’s reign the Puritan spirit

returned in double force. The two Pilkingtons, who occupied the mastership
in succession, introduced their Genevan and German friends to the
Universities, and sought to model University life upon the system followed
by the foreign Calvinists. It is worthy of remark that while, during this
period, Trinity was producing Bacon, St John’s had already produced the
great Burghley, the first of her illustrious sons, and perhaps the most
illustrious of them all. St John’s became for many years the hereditary
college of the Cecil family. The connection between the college and both
branches of that great house is still kept up in the prize exercise known as
the “Burghley Verses,” one copy of which is sent annually to Hatfield and
another to Burghley.[7]
The accession of noble families to the college and the consequent growth
of court influence probably weaned the foundation from its Puritanism. Dr
Whitaker* was the last of the Genevan School. He was a married man, and
kept up an establishment for his wife in the town. The college prospered
exceedingly in his time. These were the days of Dr Nevile of Trinity, when
Cambridge received her most beautiful buildings. Whitaker’s successor, Dr
Richard Clayton, who ruled from 1595 to 1612, had the felicity of seeing
the second court built under his auspices. Among the fellows at this time
were Richard Neile,* and Thomas Morton,* who, as Archbishop of York
and Bishop of Durham, were great benefactors to the college. And, with the
reign of James I., the college began to distinguish itself, like St John the
Baptist’s College at Oxford, as a Royalist institution. Thomas Wentworth,
Earl of Strafford,* the great Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Lucius Cary,
Viscount Falkland,* the blameless hero of the Cavalier party, are the
celebrities of the first half of the seventeenth century. In William Beale,*
master from 1633 to 1644, the King had an enthusiastic supporter. In his
time the college plate was melted down, and many valuable pieces were
sacrificed. The plate was sent across country to Charles, who was then at
York or Nottingham, and the passage was so well contrived that the convoy
escaped the ambush set by Oliver Cromwell. Dr Beale was less happy, for
Cromwell, in a fury, marched upon Cambridge, and took him prisoner while
he was at his prayers in chapel. In company with Dr Martin of Queens’ and
Dr Sterne of Jesus, he was taken off to London and imprisoned in the
Tower. He died in 1646. During the Commonwealth, the college was ruled
by Dr Arrowsmith and Dr Tuckney, but at the Restoration the famous
divine, Dr Peter Gunning,* became master, having been previously Master

of Corpus. He was made Bishop of Ely in 1670, when he was succeeded by
Francis Turner.* In course of time, Turner succeeded Gunning at Ely. With
these prelates we may couple the name of Edward Stillingfleet,* the well-
known Bishop of Worcester.
Thomas Baker,* the historian of St John’s College, deserves honourable
mention. The treasure which Oxford possesses in Anthony Wood, St John’s
finds in Baker, whose accurate history, quaintly and piously written, is a
mine of information on the subject of Cambridge life during the seventeenth
century. Baker was a Royalist of considerable bias and a non-juror, in
consequence of which he lost his fellowship. He was careful to describe
himself on his title-page as Socius Ejectus, and gloried in the distinction. He
died in 1740 at the age of eighty-four. His devotion to his college, not only
to the foundation itself, but to its remotest benefactors, is a quality unique
even in those days of fidelity to a principle. He set the college an example
by which it has profited. To-day no college in Cambridge is in possession of
such an amount of printed historical matter. Professor Mayor’s monumental
edition of Baker and of the life of Ambrose Bonwicke stand at the head of
the list. Mr Torry’s extremely full and interesting notes on the roll of
Founders and Benefactors are invaluable, while Mr Scott’s “Notes from the
College Records,” which are published from time to time in the college
magazine, form a supplement and commentary to Baker’s history. Ambrose
Bonwicke, whose life is at once an exhortation to the painful student and a
faithful picture of social life at Cambridge, entered St John’s in 1710, the
last year of the mastership of Turner’s successor, Humphrey Gower.
Bonwicke died early, so that the story of his labours and exertions,
phenomenal in a mere boy and impossible in our own age, has a vivid
pathos. From the light which he throws upon college life of his time, we are
led to imagine that, however luxurious it may have been then, it would now
be insupportable, if conducted in the same way. But then the prime object of
university life was study, and athletics and dinner-parties were considered
foreign to the main purpose.
Matthew Prior,* although a man of a different type from Baker, felt
something of the same attachment for St John’s. He was sent to Cambridge
by his patron, the Earl of Dorset, and in course of time obtained a
fellowship. With considerable forethought, he refused to give up his
fellowship when promoted to high offices of state, and consequently, after

his imprisonment by the Whigs in 1715 and the loss of all his fortune, he
managed to keep body and soul together at Cambridge. The enormous
portrait of him by Rigaud, which is now in the Master’s Lodge, displays
him in his robes as an ambassador, and is one of the most striking pictures
in the college. He left a very beautiful collection of books to the library,
among which may be mentioned a splendid folio edition of Ronsard’s
poems. His poetry is essentially of the outer world and not of Cambridge,
but its culture and the academic flavour which is apparent in the most
frivolous pieces bear clear testimony to the influence of the University on
this light-hearted scholar. A very opposite type of scholarship—the
laborious and critical—is represented by Richard Bentley,* who was a
member of the society at the same time with Matthew Prior, and rose to
further fame as Master of Trinity. In this period, too, Divinity was well
represented. To say nothing of Bishops Gunning and Turner, great names in
the history of theology, three masters of the college held, with their
mastership, the Lady Margaret Professorship of Divinity within a very short
time of each other. These were Dr Humphrey Gower,* master in 1679, Dr
Robert Jenkin,* in 1711, and Dr Newcome in 1735.
Since the arrest of Dr Beale, St John’s has enjoyed a very quiet history. In
the eighteenth century, it produced the regulation number of noblemen and
paid its full contribution to the cabinets of the period. Towards the end of
the century, we remark the name of the eccentric Samuel Parr, whose
portrait hangs in the Combination Room, and of Herbert Marsh
(* Ponsford), the controversialist and Bishop of Peterborough, to whom
Professor Mayor has devoted a large space in his edition of Baker’s History.
At the same time, we notice with interest that William Wilberforce (* G.
Richmond) and Thomas Clarkson (* Room) were at St John’s together, and,
while there, doubtless cultivated the humanitarianism which is their
common title to fame. Clarkson was a native of Cambridgeshire, having
been born at Wisbech, where his father was master of the Grammar School,
in 1760. But, in 1787, St John’s received her most distinguished poet,
William Wordsworth (* Pickersgill). He himself, in lines which are at once
oddly prosaic and incomparably sublime, has described his impressions
during his residence at Cambridge. These, however, are the sole tie which
binds him to the place; for his retiring nature led him very little into society,
and his emotions and impressions were all highly subjective. He has told us
where his rooms were, but, owing to constant alterations, their exact

position has been somewhat disputed. They are at present turned into one of
the kitchen store-rooms. Some people, by a curious misreading of the text,
have imagined that he could look into Trinity antechapel from his rooms
and see Newton’s statue. As a matter of fact, he merely says that he could
see the antechapel, and this feat is easily performed from any back-window
on the south side of the first court. Like most highly imaginative poets, and
unlike the materialistic Matthew Prior, Wordsworth was a dilatory student,
and he deserted Cambridge in 1791 for the wilder excitement of the French
Revolution.
It is probable that no one has derived so much earthly benefit from an
early death as Henry Kirke White, who entered the college in 1804, died in
1806, and has ever since been reckoned as one of its chief ornaments. He is
also the only member of the University who has a public monument in
Cambridge. At the age of nineteen he was a very promising mathematician,
and was patronised by Southey as a rising poet. The small collection of
poems and letters which constitute his “remains” show great religious
fervour and some metrical skill, but their imagination is defective and
morbid. His death excited great compassion, and his name still lives, in
England and America, as that of a precocious genius. It is not unlikely that
the greater name of Henry Martyn* is less widely known. This
distinguished scholar and Orientalist became a fellow in 1802, but left
Cambridge three years later to become a missionary. His life, short although
it is, is a splendid record of devoted piety and self-denial. He went through
dangers and privations in parts of the East which were then totally unknown
to Europeans, and died in the prosecution of his labours. He may be
regarded as the forerunner of a great band of Cambridge missionaries, the
earliest name in a kalendar which includes Ragland, Mackenzie, Patteson
and Smythies.
During the Napoleonic wars, Cambridge was possessed with a great
martial ardour, and among the most active promoters of the volunteer
movement of those days was Lord Temple,* who occupied rooms in the
first court, looking out on the street. Later on, this nobleman was better
known as Lord Palmerston. One of those who enrolled themselves under his
guidance was that eccentric gentleman, Patrick Brontë, subsequently Vicar
of Haworth in Yorkshire and father of a family whose tragic history is well
known to every student of English literature. With the name of Palmerston,

we touch modern times and come to the days of the scientific and
mathematical pre-eminence of the college. An extraordinary number of
great men have come from St John’s during the present reign. Among
scholars, Benjamin Hall Kennedy (* Ouless) has the first place. He was,
before his election to the Greek professorship, Head Master of Shrewsbury,
a school which has always been closely connected with St John’s. The most
distinguished historian was the late Charles Merivale, Dean of Ely, whose
History of the Romans under the Empire is a monument of Cambridge
scholarship. The names of scientists are legion, but one must not fail to
mention John Couch Adams,* who was a Johnian and a fellow of the
college. The late James Joseph Sylvester (* Emslie), although his genius
was devoted to Oxford, is another man of world-wide fame whom St John’s
owns. The college supplied another distinguished professor to Oxford in the
person of Charles Pritchard, the well-known Savilian professor. It is also
necessary to mention the name of Edward Henry Palmer, Lord Almoner’s
Reader in Arabic, who, with one possible exception, was the best Oriental
scholar of the century. More intimately related to the college were the two
Babingtons, Churchill and Charles Cardale,* who spent their lives at
Cambridge and filled University professorships. It would be invidious to
select names of living members of the college, but Professor Mayor,
(* Herkomer) the editor of Juvenal, and the present Bishop of Gloucester,
Dr Ellicott, have their position securely assured. Recently, too, the death of
the Hon. Charles Pelham Villiers, the “father of the House of Commons,”
robbed the college of an old member and constant friend. The modern
history of St John’s is essentially progressive, and, under Dr Bateson and
the present master, Dr Taylor, the college has been worked on broad and
liberal lines. Its yearly position in the schools testifies that it has in no way
declined from its original purpose, and is still that nursery of learning which
its foundress intended it to be. And, in connection with the modern
development of the college, it is impossible not to say something of the
College Mission. St John’s was the first Cambridge college which thought
of extending its energies for the benefit of the poor in large towns, and its
mission in a crowded part of Walworth was the example which moved other
colleges and schools to do something of the same kind. The result is shown
in the beautiful church and group of buildings which form the nucleus of
the parish. No more effectual realisation than this could be found of the
ideal of the foundress and Bishop Fisher, that their work should not merely

be accomplished for its own benefit, but that in time to come, what they had
done for their scholars, their scholars should do for others.

XV
MAGDALENE COLLEGE

M agdalene is changed very little since the days of Samuel Pepys. Its
first court has been refaced with new-looking red brick, but the
interior, with its luxuriant covering of ivy, is time-worn and venerable.
There is, however, not much of any importance. The Hall is, perhaps, the
best which is to be found among the smaller colleges, and the spacious
double staircase which leads from it to the Combination Room, is a feature
of which any college might justly be proud. “Although the staircase, as it
exists, is the work of restorers, the detail of the woodwork is excellent, and
was doubtless suggested by the fine Renaissance carving at Audley End.”
The Chapel, north of the court, was restored in 1847, and retains some of
the ancient features, including the roof. There is some modern stained glass,
not very good. Beyond the Hall, in the same position as the building at
Christ’s (with which it may be compared), is the famous Pepysian Library, a
charming building in the very latest style of Renaissance Gothic. Its general
effect is quite equal to the earlier work at Christ’s, and is very superior to
that of the river front at Clare, with which it is almost contemporary. The
spandrils of the arches in the basement are very profusely decorated with
fantastic patterns, and similar ornaments appear in the space between the
library windows and the heavy cornice below them. The Ionic pilasters of
the central compartment show traces of the Palladian influence which just
then found its way everywhere; and it is a fortunate circumstance that the
architect had enough feeling for his style not to multiply them. As it is, they
add to the charm of the building, and bring its central division into a
prominence which is demanded by the two very plain wings with their

chimneyed gables and rusticated angles. The Master’s Lodge (1835) is
north of the college, and is supposed to stand on one of the escarpments of
the ancient Camboritum—that is, if the Castle-Hill is Camboritum.
Otherwise, it is a simple Gothic building, rather better than most houses of
the time, but with no obtrusive features.

Magdalene College

W
e have seen that Jesus and St John’s Colleges were founded by means
of the dissolution of monastic houses. Magdalene, founded thirty-one
years after St John’s, was merely the final step in the secularisation of
a religious house. In 1428 Henry VI. granted the site of the present college
to the monks of Crowland, who wished to found a hostel at Cambridge for
the use of their scholars at that University. The Abbeys of Ely, Ramsey and
Walden joined with Crowland in the work, and contributed to the building.
In the latter half of the century this theological college, as we should call it,
received substantial aid from Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, whose
favours were continued in 1519 by his son Edward. In recognition of the
benefactions of Duke Henry, the hostel took its title of Buckingham
College. The foundation seems to have departed gradually from its original

purpose, for laymen were admitted to it before the dissolution. However, it
was only natural that, when Crowland surrendered to the King, its
dependent house should surrender also. The crown resumed the property in
December, 1539. Henry VIII. granted the messuages of Buckingham
College to Thomas, Lord Audley of Walden, who also became possessed of
Walden Abbey. In all probability, the original connection between the abbey
and the college induced him to refound the institution on a new plan. He
reconstituted it in 1542 under the name of the College of St Mary
Magdalene. Since his day, through all the vicissitudes of his family,
Magdalene College has remained under the protection and patronage of the
owner of Audley End, a stately and beautiful appendage to the noblest
country house in England. His work was carried on by his successors. At his
death he left a daughter, the lady whose magnificent portrait by Lucas van
Heere hangs in the great hall at Audley End. She married the Duke of
Norfolk, who, in 1564, being at Cambridge with Queen Elizabeth,
generously promised the college an annuity of £40 until they had finished
the “quadrant of their college,” and further endowed the society, which was
become much impoverished, with landed property. Norfolk’s liberality was
supplemented by the contributions of the Lord Chief Justice Sir Christopher
Wray,* who had been one of the lay students of Buckingham College.
The college was never large, and its history is scanty. Its first master of
any importance was Dr Thomas Nevile, who reigned from 1582 to 1593,
and then removed to Trinity. His fame belongs to the history of the latter
college. In the great concussion of the seventeenth century, Magdalene
adhered, as was natural, to the royalist side, and its master, Dr Rainbow,*
was rewarded after the Restoration with the Bishoprick of Carlisle.
Nicholas Ferrar,* the famous superior of the community at Little Gidding,
and the friend of Crashaw and Herbert, was a member of this college as
well as of Clare, and his portrait, with that of his mother, is preserved in the
Master’s Lodge. This saintly man, like Herbert, was happy in dying before
the troubles of his party began. But one naturally connects Magdalene less
with Ferrar than with an individual of a very different order. Mr Samuel
Pepys was entered at Trinity in 1650, but, for some reason, preferred
Magdalene. By no means a scholar, he enjoyed the social advantages of the
University, and in after years remembered the grateful flavour of Goody
Mulliner’s stewed prunes, which he used to buy “over against the college.”
His eventual generosity to Magdalene was something of an accident.

During the closing years of his life, the college was raising the exquisite
eastern building. Pepys was then casting about for a suitable destination for
his library, and there is no doubt that the singularly admirable qualities of
the new building, as well as his own prepossession for Magdalene, aided his
decision. By his will, he bequeathed his library to his nephew, Mr Jackson
(another Magdalene man), as his trustee, and provided that, at the death of
this gentleman, it should pass to Magdalene, and, by an express stipulation,
be housed in the New Building “and any part thereof, at my nephew’s
selection.” The document contained certain reservations in favour of
Trinity. Its whole wording shows an amusing caution. After a preamble, in
which he expresses his apprehension of the danger which might befall the
books at the hands of an incompetent heir, he proceeds to leave them, at his
nephew’s death, to one of the two Universities, but to Cambridge rather
than to Oxford. Then he states his preference for a private to a public
library, and confines the private libraries to Trinity and Magdalene. Finally,
he prefers Magdalene to Trinity, but provides that, in case of specified
losses, the books are forfeit to the latter college. In this respect, he imitates
Parker’s bequest to Corpus. “And that for a yet further security herein, the
sᵈ two colleges of Trinity and Magdalen have a reciprocall check upon one
another; and that college, wᶜʰ shall be in present possession of the sᵈ
Library, be subject to an annual visitation from the other, and to the
forfeiture thereof, to the like possession and use of the other, upon
conviction of any breach of their sᵈ covenants.”
John Jackson died in 1724, and the precious legacy passed to Magdalene.
Its value is incontestable, and no treasure is to this day more jealously
guarded. The inscription “Bibliotheca Pepysiana,” and Pepys’ motto, “Mens
cujusque is est quisque,” were put up on the building after the arrival of the
books. The value of the bequest was more fully illustrated when, in the
present century, Lord Braybrooke, a Magdalene man himself and visitor of
the college, translated Pepys’ cypher diary and gave that unvarnished
picture of contemporary manners to the world, opening thereby a most
fruitful mine of research, as well as discovering a hidden classic. Dr Peter
Peckard,* master from 1781 to 1797, enriched the library with his own
collection. He was Dean of Peterborough. The see of Peterborough, at the
beginning of the same century, was held by a Magdalene man, Dr Richard
Cumberland, whose very exhaustive treatise on Jewish Weights and
Measures, as well as his polemical essay in answer to Hobbes, are still

remembered, although seldom read. The name of Daniel Waterland,*
master from 1713 to 1746, is of greater fame in the history of controversial
theology.
The present century, from 1813 to the present day, is covered by the long
masterships of an uncle and a nephew. The first of these was the Hon.
George Neville Grenville, Dean of Windsor (* Pickersgill); the second is
the present master, the Hon. Latimer Neville, who has ruled his college for
forty-five years. The Nevilles of Audley End are descendants of the founder
in the female line. The first Lord Braybrooke, the editor of Pepys’ Diary,
was a Neville of Billingsbear in Essex, and succeeded the last Lord Howard
de Walden, of the family of Griffin, on the death of that nobleman without
male issue. During the century, Magdalene has had some reputation as a
fashionable college; but the amusing American critic, Mr Everett, spoke of
it somewhat unjustly when he said that “it is a favourite home for young
men who are of the opinion, either from conjecture or experience, that other
colleges are too strict for them.” It has, like other small colleges, produced
an excellent percentage of scholars and learned men. Our opinions as to the
literary merits of Charles Kingsley (* Lowes Dickinson) may be divided,
but there can be no question as to his abiding influence on English letters.
He is equally well known as parish priest, cathedral dignitary, novelist and
poet, and Professor of Modern History. The roll of living members includes
the name of Professor Alfred Newton (* Lowes Dickinson), and the genial
and kindly influence of the late Mr Frank Pattrick (* Dickinson), Tutor and
President of the college, is gratefully remembered by the latest and
youngest of those who have pursued their studies at Magdalene.

XVI
TRINITY COLLEGE

T he Great Court of Trinity represents the earlier foundations of King’s
Hall and Michael House. Of these, the latter was the older, and its
buildings occupied a position nearly corresponding to the south-western
angle of the present court. It may safely be supposed that, up to the last half
of the eighteenth century, some remains of the original building were
allowed to exist, although Dr Nevile had probably faced them in accordance
with his general design. In 1771, however, James Essex made a radical
alteration in this corner, and the only part which was thought worthy of
preservation was the kitchen. This quaint room, entered by a passage from
the hall-screens, still survives, and may be regarded as the nucleus of the
modern Trinity. The next relic of importance is the King’s Tower, which
now blocks up the west end of the Chapel, and occupies the centre of the
north side of the court. It stood originally a little south-east of its present
site, and opened at the junction of two lanes, one of which ran diagonally
from the old church of All Saints’ to the Cam, while the other, coming from
the present Trinity Lane, was bounded on the west by the small court of
Michael House. Now, of course, the tower, removed and rebuilt, shows very
little trace of antiquity, and the oldest part of it is the statue of Edward III.,
which stands above the gateway, and bears the inscription “Tertius
Edwardus fama super aethera notus.” This may be ascribed to the reign of
Edward IV. Later on, in the reign of Henry VII., the foundation of the great
gateway was laid, and a chapel for the scholars of King’s Hall was built.

Trinity College

Not long after King’s Hall had received its new eastern gateway, which
implies a considerable extension of the college, Henry VIII. dissolved the
lesser foundations and founded Trinity as we know it. Henry’s chief wish
was to provide a sufficient chapel. It was not, however, until Mary’s reign
that any activity was shown in this work. Mary furthered her father’s
project, and allowed the builders to use the ruins of Cambridge Castle as
their quarry. The work was finished by Elizabeth. Trinity Chapel is an
excellent example of late Perpendicular work. As Gothic work, it is stiff and
debased, and forms a striking contrast to the elegance of the Renaissance
Hall. Its exterior has been very little altered. Internally, however, it belongs
to a much later period. The west window was filled up by Nevile; the east
window is obscured by a huge baldachino of the last century. During
Bentley’s mastership, Father Smith built the present organ, one of the
largest in England; and the whole chapel was refitted to suit the capacities
of this instrument. Opinions may differ about the beauty of the heavy

wooden screen in an uncompromisingly classical taste which supports the
organ and divides the chapel from the antechapel; but it is unquestionably a
very appropriate addition to a stately, if ugly, interior. The carving of the
stalls is by Grinling Gibbons. Alterations did not stop here. The present
century has made the building what it is. Within the last thirty years the roof
and walls have been highly decorated in accordance with the rest of the
chapel, and the result is very imposing. Mr Henry Holiday’s stained glass,
which represents the saints and worthies of the Church from the earliest
period, is good, although its merits are a little various. The western
windows near the organ, devoted to members of Trinity, are the best. In the
antechapel the glass is very bad indeed. Otherwise, this part of the building
is not much altered, and its panelling of dark oak makes it one of the most
impressive sights in either university. This is much increased by the fine
statues. Of these, that of Newton, by Roubiliac, was given in 1755 by the
master, Dr Smith. The rest are more modern. Bacon’s statue, by Weekes,
was given by Dr Whewell; Barrow’s by the late Lord Lansdowne. The
statues of Macaulay and Whewell are both by Woolner.
These various buildings and others which had grown about them were
gathered together in the reign of James I., and the result is the Great Court,
one of the largest and certainly without exception the most beautiful of
quadrangles in the world. Trinity owes a great debt to Thomas Nevile, who
was master from 1593 to 1615. To bring his buildings into a systematic
form, he took down King Edward III.’s tower and rebuilt it west of the
chapel. He added the upper storey to the great gateway, and placed the
statue of Henry VIII. in a niche outside, while on the side towards the court
he set up in corresponding niches statues of James I., Prince Charles, and
the Princess Elizabeth. On the south side he built the Queen’s tower, which
contains the figure of Queen Mary, and is exactly opposite King Edward’s

tower. Finally, to the west he built the Hall, north of the old hall of Michael
House, and, further north still, the Master’s Lodge. His architect was that
admirable genius, Ralph Symons. Although the Great Court has been partly
faced with stucco and, in certain places, refronted, its beauty is
indestructible. The sets of rooms which join the towers and other buildings
together, have their height in very just proportion to the size of the
quadrangle. What the effect would be, were they higher than they are, may
be seen by comparing the Jacobean buildings with Essex’s classical
addition near the kitchen, and the modern Gothic buildings between the
Chapel and Lodge. The beauty of the court finds its central point, perhaps,
in Nevile’s exquisite fountain, built in 1602, which has all the best attributes
of English Renaissance work. It may be compared with the gateway just
outside the south-western corner of the court.

The Hall, with its light oriels and graceful louvre, was finished in 1604.
Its interior is, perhaps, a little over-decorated, but possesses a certain
splendour which finds no parallel in England. The western gallery, covered
with rich carving and highly gilded, may be compared with the similar
galleries at Audley End and other contemporary houses. The portraits are
interesting, although of no great excellence as a whole. Newton, Bacon, and
Barrow occupy the north end, and other celebrities, such as Dryden,
Cowley and Pearson, are to be found on the side walls above the panelling.
Sir Joshua Reynolds’ charming portrait of the little Duke of Gloucester
hangs close to the western oriel, and near it is Mr Watts’ portrait of
Tennyson. Other modern portraits are those of Thackeray (Lockhart Bogle),
Dr Thompson (Herkomer), Dr Lightfoot (Richmond), and, of living
celebrities, Professor Michael Foster (Herkomer) and Dr Henry Jackson (C.
W. Furse).

The Fountain

Trinity College

E·H·N

Beyond the Hall, Nevile built the court, which bears his name, and, for a
certain beauty of its own, is not far behind the Great Court. Ralph Symons
was again his architect. This building consisted of two wings, shorter than
at present, at right angles to the Hall, and built above a cloister. These

splendid arcades are the very crown of Renaissance work in Cambridge;
their cloistered ground-floor recalls Bologna or Padua rather than the court
of an English university; but their upper stories are thoroughly English
work. Nevile’s Court did not assume its present secluded, aristocratic
appearance until considerably more than a hundred years later. Isaac
Barrow, one of the many great Masters of Trinity, began the library in 1675,
with Sir Christopher Wren as his architect. The court was completed by the
generous addition of two compartments to the original arcades, which was
paid for by some of the fellows. Wren’s Library is so prominent that its
incongruity with the rest of the court is not at once obvious, but there can be
no doubt that it is seen at its best on the river side. Its front towards the
court is adorned with a bas-relief which represents the dedication of the
Septuagint to Ptolemy Philadelphus. On the roof are four statues of learned
nymphs by Gabriel Cibber, which are chiefly remarkable for the part they
played in one of Byron’s most senseless freaks. The interior of the Library
is matchless for its magnificent simplicity. It is a pity that the arbiters of
taste in the last century should have allowed Cipriani to design the window
at the south end, but this is the sole fault. The numerous busts (some by
Roubiliac), the carvings on the bookcases (Grinling Gibbons) and
Thorwaldsen’s statue of Byron are remarkable.
Wren is also supposed to have harmonised the side of the Hall which
stands opposite, with his Library. The present meaningless alcoves and the
balustrade which have superseded Nevile’s work on this side, are probably
by Essex, who was brought in to prop up the Hall and build the
Combination Room and Kitchen Offices in 1771. A little while before Wren
began working at Trinity, John Hacket, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry,
founded Bishop’s Hostel, the small building south of the Great Court, and
close to the Trinity Lane entrance. These buildings (1670) are now

somewhat overlapped by the modern buildings of Garret Hostel, which are
also of red brick. Garret Hostel is, however, a much older component of
Trinity, and the modern buildings are simply a revival.

During the eighteenth century Bentley effected his famous alterations in
the Lodge and Chapel, and Essex made the additional changes to which I
have referred. No actual addition was made to the college until, in 1823,
William Wilkins began his court in the revived Gothic taste, adjoining
Nevile’s Court on the south. George IV. proved a benefactor to the extent of
£1000, and the official name of the new building is for this reason King’s
Court. It was finished about six years later. Cambridge, as we have seen,
has a long tale to tell of Georgian Gothic, and the New Court of Trinity is a
very typical example of that period. It nevertheless is a far more pleasant
building than Wilkins’ court at Corpus or Rickman’s at St John’s, although
there is not much to praise in it. To a much better period of modern Gothic
belong Mr Beresford Hope’s improvements in the Lodge and the Master’s
Courts, usually known as Whewell’s Court (and by more familiar names),
which are opposite the great gate of Trinity, and are one of the
thoroughfares between Trinity Street and Sidney Street. Dr Whewell built
this court at his own expense, with Salvin as his architect. Outside, it is
gloomy but imposing. The darkness of its interior was till quite recently
almost to be felt; but now (1898) they are being refaced, and the depressing
rooms are being made into comfortable and picturesque habitations.

The grounds of Trinity are spacious and pleasant, and the famous lime-
walk is one of the wonders of Cambridge. When Dr Nevile built his court,
he filled up a branch of the Cam which ran northwards from Garret Hostel
Bridge and rejoined the main stream at the north-west corner of the present
Library. The bridge which connects the lime-walk with the new court was
built by Essex, and is his best work in Cambridge, if that is any praise.

T
he royal foundation of Trinity College is, as a matter of fact, one of the
youngest colleges in Cambridge. At the same time, it is to Cambridge
what Christ Church is to Oxford, and, more than that, its name, to a
great number of people, is almost synonymous with Cambridge. Henry
VIII., the most learned of our English sovereigns, was naturally a great
patron of learning. In 1546, the year in which, with his characteristic want
of scruple, he took upon himself the credit of founding Wolsey’s great
college at Oxford, he also founded Trinity at Cambridge. His material was
ready to hand, for the small colleges and hostels which filled up the space
between the present Trinity Street and the river provided scanty room for
their members, and needed amalgamation. Trinity, in fact, as it now exists,
is composed of a number of separate foundations, the principal of which
were Michael House, founded in 1324, and King’s Hall, founded by
Edward III. in 1337. These two colleges had gradually absorbed many of
the smaller hostels. The founder of Michael House was Hervé de Staunton,
treasurer to King Edward II. In spite of its limited situation, it had a certain
amount of prestige, and one of its last masters was John Fisher, afterwards
President of Queens’ and Bishop of Rochester. It used the church of St
Michael as its chapel. King’s Hall, on the other hand, had, by the time of
Henry VIII., extended its boundaries and built its own chapel. It had grown
out of a corporation of scholars, which had found a patron in Edward II.,
and had been presented by Edward III., in 1336, with a piece of ground
belonging to one Robert of Crowland—which may point to a connection
between the foundation and Crowland Abbey, the great centre of English
learning. A regular charter was granted in 1337. The accounts of the
institution remain, and point to a style of living which would not be very
highly accounted of now, but was positively luxurious for medieval
Cambridge. The scholars attended chapel at St Mary’s by the Market and
All Saints’ in the Jewry, until, in Edward IV.’s reign, they obtained leave to
found a chapel for themselves. King’s Hall naturally became the nucleus of
Henry’s college, and the lesser buildings found their centre in its court,
enlarged and beautified. John Redman, the last master of King’s Hall,
became the first master of Trinity College.
Under the charter of 1546, Henry VIII. founded Trinity College for a
master and sixty fellows and scholars. The full title was “Trinity College
within the Town and University of Cambridge of King Henry the Eighth’s
foundation.” Michael House, dedicated primarily to St Michael the

Archangel, had been founded under the secondary invocations of the Holy
and Undivided Trinity, St Mary, and All Saints; and it is probable that the
first of these suggested the name under which the college has become so
famous. Trinity College is the most distinguished fruit of that revived
learning which paved the way for and accompanied the Reformation: from
the very beginning its tendencies were liberal and progressive; every genius
which it nourished was eminently constructive. The names of its three
greatest alumni, Newton, Bacon, and Barrow, form, so to speak, the three
fountain-heads of organized philosophical thought in England; and there are
a hundred less monumental names which are sufficient guarantee of the
intellectual supremacy of Trinity over her sisters. The history of the college
divides itself naturally into periods. The first is a period of consolidation,
extending from 1546 to 1593. During this time, the college suffered the
ordinary vicissitudes of the Reformation. Its chapel, which had been
projected by Henry VIII., was begun by Mary and finished, probably out of
a sense of duty, by Elizabeth. In 1553, William Bill, the second master, who
had been appointed under Edward VI., had to retire in favour of a Catholic
master, John Christopherson, but was of course restored at the accession of
Elizabeth. He was succeeded in 1561 by Robert Beaumont, who presented
to the Master’s Lodge a portrait of the founder by Lucas van Heere, one of
the most excellent portrait-painters of the sixteenth century. Beaumont, in
his turn, was succeeded by John Whitgift, who was already well known in
Cambridge as Master of Peterhouse and Pembroke, and Fellow of Queens’.
Whitgift, with Matthew Parker and Matthew Hutton, is one of the three
divines who may be taken as typical of Elizabethan Cambridge—strongly
anti-papal in their sentiments, but keeping nevertheless a cautious eye on
the political balance. It is hardly necessary to add that Whitgift’s long list of
Cambridge preferments eventually led to the Archbishoprick of Canterbury.
And it was during his mastership that the greatest intellect of the age was
trained at his college. Under the yoke of the Aristotelian system of
philosophy, Francis Bacon, while still at Cambridge, perceived the fallacies
of the stereotyped methods of thought, and laid the foundation of inductive
science. Bacon’s life is connected more intimately with affairs of state than
with his University; but Trinity regards him as one of the principal saints in
her kalendar, and his memory greets the visitor at every turn. His portrait is
one of the three at the end of the Hall; there is another in the Master’s

Lodge; his bust, by Roubiliac, is in the Library; and, in 1845, his statue was
placed, side by side with that of Newton, in the antechapel.
Bacon is the great figure of this early period. Nine years older than he,
the Lord Chief Justice Coke (* Whood: bust by Roubiliac) is the first of the
great lawyers connected with Trinity. Another celebrated name is that of Dr
Donne, Dean of St Paul’s, divine and poet. Sir Henry Spelman (* Whood),
the antiquary and translator of Xenophon, was a contemporary of Bacon,
and, some years after, Sir Robert Cotton (* bust by Roubiliac) furnished
Trinity with another archæologist. Whitgift, after his translation to
Canterbury, was succeeded by John Still, who became Bishop of Bath and
Wells. With Still’s successor, Dr Thomas Nevile,* master from 1593 to
1615, the second period opens. Nevile held the Deanery of Canterbury with
his mastership, but his life was spent in Cambridge, and his architectural
work in Trinity, while it is the most important in the University, stamps him
as the chief benefactor of the college. In that great age of building, Nevile’s
work has an honourable pre-eminence: it is the sign of a monumental
perseverance and an artistic taste which, even in that fine era of
Renaissance culture, was never surpassed. We may with justice echo the
words of Fuller, who says that Dr Nevile performed this work “answering
his anagram most heavenly, and practising his own allusive motto ne vile
velis.” Higher praise could not be given. Nevile’s buildings, if architecture
may be considered to reflect contemporary history, may be regarded as a
turning-point in Cambridge thought. When we look at the reactionary
tendency to the Gothic taste in Jacobean Oxford, and compare it with the
distinct preference shown in Cambridge for classical and Renaissance
models, the radical divergence of the two Universities is clear. Nevile’s
courts at Trinity were the beginning of a long series of collegiate buildings
which, often very defective, took the place of Gothic work and held it for
the next two centuries. The sole exception to this rule is Matthew Wren’s
chapel at Peterhouse. Besides his building energy, Nevile acquired land for
the college, so that, when the Society enlarged its buildings in after years, it
found itself in possession of the requisite site. The King’s Court occupies
part of this property. One can only say that Nevile’s memory might be
honoured with a better building.
One of the first scholars of Trinity who saw Nevile’s work in its complete
state was George Herbert. He was born in 1593, the first year of Nevile’s

mastership, and entered Trinity at a very early age. Although it is more
natural to think of him as a parish priest and the writer of the most beautiful
devotional poetry in English, his career at Cambridge was not without
distinction. His early Latinity was as perfect as Milton’s, and he filled the
office of Public Orator of the University. He is unique among Trinity men
as the only important member of the college who belonged to the most
illustrious school of English churchmen—the school which, under
Andrewes, Laud and Cosin, placed the Church of England on a logical and
independent footing. The honours of this school are shared rather unequally
between the two Universities, but Cambridge contributed a substantial
quota to the whole sum. There is no portrait of Herbert in the college, but he
is commemorated in one of the chapel windows. He died at the early age of
forty, before the troubles of the Great Rebellion. John Hacket,* the Royalist
Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, was probably at Trinity with Herbert. He
is remembered, not so much for his divinity as for his gallant defence of his
cathedral against the Puritan destroyers. He was born in 1592 and did not
die till 1670, ten years after the Restoration. In his seventieth year, having
been mercifully preserved throughout the troubles, he desired to bestow
some mark of his affection upon Trinity, “that Society,” as he said with a
noble pathos characteristic of the party to which he had attached himself,
“which is more precious to me, next to the Church of Jesus Christ, than any
place upon earth.” The result of his bequest was the present Bishop’s
Hostel, which occupied part of the site of the old Garret’s or Gerrard’s
Hostel.
The seventeenth century is fertile in great men. During the century,
however, none of the masters of the college were very conspicuous men,
and the mastership, between 1615 and 1683, changed hands no less than
twelve times. It is also worthy of remark that three successive masters
ended their lives as Bishops of Chester, thus uniting Henry VIII.’s collegiate
foundation with one of his bishopricks. These were John Wilkins
(* Whood), master in 1659, Henry Ferne, master in 1660, and John Pearson
(* Whood), master from 1662 to 1673. This last is the only exception to the
general insignificance of the masters at this time. He was a distinguished
scholar who had been connected with several colleges, and had held the
mastership of Jesus. His work on the Apostles’ Creed is still one of the
classics of English theology. About the middle of the century, Dryden
(* Hudson) came to Trinity from Westminster School. Both he and

Abraham Cowley (* Slaughton) were strongly attached to the Royalist side
during the Commonwealth disturbances, and Cowley, who entered the
college in 1637 and proceeded to his master’s degree, was expelled in 1643
on account of his too strongly expressed loyalty. He found more congenial
soil at St John’s College, Oxford, the college of Laud, Juxon, and others of
the same party. If to these poets we add the names of the naturalists Ray
(* Hudson: bust by Roubiliac) and Willoughby (bust by Roubiliac) we shall
have enumerated the most illustrious Trinity men of their time. Ray and
Willoughby, who studied natural history with special reference to its
religious character, were, in fact, the founders of the modern science, just as
Dryden may be said to have struck the first note of modern poetry.
Pearson became Bishop of Chester in 1672, and removed there in 1673.
Under his successor, Isaac Barrow, began the golden age of Trinity. Barrow
is, in many ways, the most extraordinary genius of whom Cambridge can
boast. He was one of that rare class whose knowledge is practically
universal. He was born in 1630, a year before his great contemporary, John
Locke, who went up to Oxford from Westminster about the time when
Barrow went up from Charterhouse to Cambridge. Barrow was a man of
surprising energy and, at Cambridge, he appears to have read deeply in
every subject which was then studied. He was classic, mathematician,
scientist, theologian, and orator; and in each of these branches he excelled.
He was appointed Regius Professor of Greek in 1655, and, subsequently,
Lucasian Professor of Mathematics—a feat which, to the scholars of to-day,
would seem next to impossible. Undoubtedly, however, his promotion to the
mastership of his college and his subsequent celebrity were due to his fame
as a divine. His sermons bear the same relation to his age that those of
Jeremy Taylor bear to the Stewart period. He was in high favour as a
preacher at court, and, on Pearson’s retirement, his appointment was
obvious. He did not hold the mastership for more than four years, as in
1677 he died at the age of forty-seven. His portrait by Hudson hangs in the
college Hall; his bust, by Roubiliac, is in the Library; and his statue, by
Noble, was placed in the antechapel during the mastership of his worthy
successor, Whewell.
At this time, the mathematical attainments of the Society must have been
overpowering. Barrow’s fame in this department has perhaps been obscured
by that of Sir Isaac Newton; but, if we are to believe Newton’s generous

compliment, the early death of Roger Cotes robbed Trinity of an even
greater prodigy. The college may nevertheless be well content with Newton,
who was emphatically a Trinity man, spending very little of his life away
from Cambridge. He was twelve years younger than Barrow, and entered
Trinity in the year of the Restoration, when he was eighteen. Nine years
later, his studies proved so fruitful that Barrow gave up the Lucasian
professorship in his favour. For more than half a century, he was the chief
ornament of the University. His discoveries revolutionised the whole theory
of mathematics, and it was owing to his personality that the subsequent
energies of Cambridge were so largely mathematical. He occupied rooms
between the Great Gateway and the Chapel. Although he made Cambridge
his home, he had a large share in public business, sitting as Member for the
University and receiving the mastership of the Mint. This office he probably
owed to another member of the college, Charles Montague, Earl of Halifax
(* Kneller), whose recall of the specie is among the most famous of English
financial operations. In 1703, Newton was elected President of the Royal
Society, which, it is interesting to note, had been founded, forty years
before, mainly through the energy of Dr Wilkins, Master of Trinity and one
of the three Bishops of Chester mentioned above. Newton was knighted by
Queen Anne in 1705, and died in 1727. His scientific studies were not his
exclusive pursuits, for he was, to a certain extent, one of the group of
literary men who are the glory of Anne’s reign, and was also much occupied
with the elucidation of prophecy, which probably attracted him from its
mathematical side. Trinity has very justly regarded him as her greatest son.
His portrait, by Ritz, occupies the place of honour in the Hall, and every
visitor to Cambridge knows—

The antechapel where the statue stood
Of Newton with his prism and silent face,
The marble index of a mind for ever
Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.

The statue, which is by Roubiliac, and is that master’s most famous work,
bears the inscription from Lucretius “Qui genus humanum ingenio
superavit.” There is a bust of him in the Library, also by Roubiliac, and
several portraits are to be found throughout the college.

After Barrow’s death, the mastership was filled successively by the Hon.
John North* and the Hon. John Montague,* whose rule was calculated to
foster a comfortable laziness rather than industry. On the death of the
second of these, Dr Richard Bentley, fellow of St John’s, was elected
master. There was, in those days, a strong feeling of rivalry between the two
foundations—not only academical, but also in political and social matters.
Bentley was a rare genius, whose scholarship was just then acknowledged
as the finest in England, but he was utterly devoid of good feeling and tact,
and had a peculiar faculty for exciting hatred. His fame, for the most of us,
is due to his high place in the Dunciad. He arrived in Trinity with the
intention of managing the college on his own lines. There was a party in the
Society which thoroughly enjoyed the comfort of a position it did not adorn,
and in this body Bentley found his most devoted enemies. Instead of
conciliating them, he treated them with undisguised contempt and
arrogance; and his conduct was so injudicious that he alienated all the better
members of the college from himself. Matters came to a head when Bentley
made radical alterations in the Master’s Lodge, and presented the fellows
with a bill considerably larger than the original estimate. Open war broke
out; the fellows refused to pay; and Bentley in consequence applied
methods of coercion, withholding privileges which were in his gift. The
fellows found themselves obliged to give in after some time, and Bentley
followed up this victory by altering the interior of the chapel to suit the new
organ. At this point, however, the Society revolted for good. Bentley
required a large subscription of each fellow. The fellowship dividends had
been much reduced during the previous years, and, with this additional
burden, poverty stared many of the dons in the face. In this crisis, the
fellows, who undoubtedly had justice on their side, called in Serjeant Milne,
a London lawyer and one of their number, and, under his guidance,
addressed a gravamen against the Master to the Bishop of Ely. Things
would have gone hardly for Bentley, had not the Bishop died opportunely.
This Bishop, by the way, was John Moore, whose books George I. gave to
the University Library. However, Bentley’s tyranny was not suffered to
continue, for, in 1718, the Senate passed a grace degrading him from his
high positions in the University. After this, the quarrel was less prominent.
Bentley occupied the Lodge till 1742, but the bad feeling which he had
excited continued till the end of his life. His judgment and taste may be
estimated from the reply which he is said to have given to some

congratulatory address after his election. Referring to his original college of
St John’s, he said, “By the help of my God, I have leaped over a wall.” His
arrogance might have been excusable in a young man whose promotion was
early, but Bentley, in 1700, was past middle life. His scholarship was sound,
and there is no doubt that his arguments against the Epistles of Phalaris
crushed the position of his adversary Boyle; but his lack of proper feeling
always put him in the wrong, and his memory lives in the satire of Pope and
Swift rather than in his own work. Hudson’s portrait of him is in the Hall,
and his bust, by Roubiliac, is in the Library.
The quarrels of Bentley’s mastership form a period by themselves in the
college history. At the same time, it must be remembered that the quarrel
was confined to a section of the Society, and that the better members kept
aloof from it. It had nevertheless a marked effect on the college throughout
the eighteenth century, with the consequence that famous names are
comparatively scanty. Of Bentley’s opponents, the most distinguished was
Dr Conyers Middleton, whose life of Cicero was good enough to merit a
century of abuse. Lesser scholars of the same time were Roger Gale,* the
antiquary, who is often confounded with the learned Theophilus Gale of
Magdalen, Oxford, author of the once famous Court of the Gentiles; and
Beaupré Bell* of Outwell, Norfolk, who was an enthusiastic lover of church
architecture, and left his valuable manuscripts to the college library.
Bentley’s immediate successor, Dr Robert Smith,* master from 1742 to
1768, bequeathed his name to the Smith’s Prizes. He was succeeded by
John Hinchliffe, Bishop of Peterborough, a typical prelate of the last
century and a born pluralist. Lord Orford, in his Tour of the Fens, describes
his entertainment at the Palace of Peterborough; from which we may divine
that Hinchliffe was fond of a good dinner and liked the vicinity of a
nobleman. On one occasion, he put a man with no voice into the Trinity
choir, because he happened to have a vote for Peterborough. A fellow of the
college, named Mansel, who was more remarkable for his ponderous wit
than his piety, wrote the following epigram:—

A singing man, and yet not sing?
How justify your patron’s bounty?
Forgive me; you mistake the thing;
My voice is in another county.

This same Mansel* came, some years later, to great dignity as Bishop of
Bristol and Master of Trinity. His mastership, from 1798 to 1820, closes the
eighteenth century. The most distinguished member of the college at this
time was the great Professor of Greek, Richard Porson,* who died in 1808
at the age of forty-nine. His beautiful Greek handwriting may be seen in
one of the cases in the college library. Otherwise, the scholars of the last
century are few and far between. Trinity was, however, the great nursing-
place for noblemen; and among the number of her sons may be mentioned
the famous Marquess of Granby (* Reynolds) whose head serves as the sign
for so many inns; John Jefferies Pratt, Marquess Camden and Chancellor of
the University (* Lawrence), George Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Grafton
(* Lawrence), and, of royal blood, William Frederick, Duke of Gloucester
(* Gainsborough, Romney, Opie), Chancellor of the University, and
Frederick Augustus, Duke of Sussex (* Lonsdale). A great statesman of the
day was Spencer Perceval,* who was assassinated in the lobby of the
Houses of Parliament. But, if we turn to men of letters and poets, we merely
find such men as the parodist, Isaac Hawkins Browne.*
Lord Byron received his education under Mansel. His career at
Cambridge would be scarcely worth recording, were he not Byron; for it is
the record of a foolish series of silly exploits and eccentricities bordering on
madness. The place of honour which is given to his statue in the library
always seems a little better than his merits. He occupied rooms in Nevile’s
Court, and contrived, during his residence, to irritate the college authorities.
Mansel, as master, had a very exalted idea of the virtues of his position,
and, from the anecdotes which are told of him, must have made himself
peculiarly unpleasant. He was the last master of Trinity who combined that
office with episcopal dignity. His successor, Christopher Wordsworth,*
master from 1820 to 1841, was brother to the poet, and father of the late
saintly Bishop of Lincoln.
During Wordsworth’s time, the college was full of great men. Adam
Sedgwick* was Professor of Geology. Another member of the college was
Thomas Babington Macaulay, who was born with the century. As Fellow of
Trinity, the great historian was thoroughly identified with the college, and,
nine years after his death, his statue, by Woolner, was placed among the
distinguished society of the antechapel. Younger by nine years than
Macaulay was Alfred Tennyson (* Watts), who, in a few exquisite verses,

made himself peculiarly the poet of Trinity. The chief event of his
Cambridge life was, of course, his friendship for Arthur Henry Hallam, who
lived, as is well known, in the New Court. Tennyson himself was otherwise
not greatly attached to Cambridge. He lived at some distance from Trinity,
in Corpus Buildings, and went down without taking his degree. In this
respect, Thackeray (* Bogle), two years his junior, was very different from
him. Through all his life, Thackeray, although he was so closely identified
with London, kept his love for Cambridge, and was at heart a don. While
still in residence, he would walk reading along one of the paths in the Great
Court, and, in after life, he constantly returned. His rooms were close to
Newton’s, north of the Great Gate. Probably no one has handled University
life with more success—the subject is proverbially difficult—than
Thackeray in the early chapters of Pendennis; and, in most of his novels, he
sent his heroes to colleges which, whether he placed them in Oxford or
Cambridge, have all the features of his beloved Trinity.
With Thackeray we are hard on the heels of our own age. The modern
period of Trinity’s history begins with the mastership of William Whewell,
whose name is inseparable from his college. The twenty-five years of his
mastership, from 1841 to 1866, form a very distinguished epoch. As
scholar, organiser, and benefactor to the foundation, he was pre-eminent.
The famous epigram which said of him that “Science was his forte and
omniscience his foible” was in the main true, but he carried to everything
he attempted an immense interest and a sound judgment. His statue very
worthily completes the group in the antechapel. It was erected during the
mastership of his successor, William Hepworth Thompson (* Herkomer)
the Platonist, famous for his erudition and his bons mots. Before his
elevation to the mastership, Dr Thompson had been Regius Professor of
Greek. The men of his generation who belonged to the Society were men of
the highest eminence; the best known are, perhaps, Joseph Barber Lightfoot
(* Richmond, Dickinson), the commentator on St Paul’s Epistles and
Bishop of Durham; James Clerk Maxwell,* Professor of Experimental
Physics in the University; the late Arthur Cayley (* Dickinson), the greatest
mathematician whom Trinity boasts since the days of Newton; and the
Public Orator, W. G. Clark (bust by Woolner), Thompson’s life-long friend.
When Thompson died in 1886, he was succeeded by the present master, Dr
Butler, who had been Head Master of Harrow and Dean of Gloucester.
Beneath these rulers, and with the highest prestige in the world as her

tradition, Trinity fully justifies her distinction as a royal foundation and a
nursing-mother of sound and religious learning. To select from the present
society is invidious; but the names of Professor Henry Sidgwick, Professor
Michael Foster (* Herkomer), Dr Henry Jackson (* Furse), and Professor
Jebb, are of European repute, to say nothing of the present vice-master, Mr
Aldis Wright, editor of Shakspeare, and Mr John Willis Clark, the present
Registrary, whose investigations in Cambridge history and antiquities are
well known everywhere. In the Church one may point to the theologian Dr
Westcott, Bishop of Durham, to Dr Farrar, Dean of Canterbury, and to the
late Charles Alan Smythies, Bishop of Zanzibar; among politicians, to Mr
Arthur and Mr Gerald Balfour, and Sir William Harcourt; while of doctors,
lawyers and men of letters the crowd cannot be numbered.

XVII
EMMANUEL COLLEGE

W hen one hears of the destruction of the beautiful courts at Emmanuel
and Sidney, one is tempted to wonder what good genius of building
spared the second court of St John’s and Nevile’s Court at Trinity. Had
Ralph Symons’ work been allowed to remain here, we should have had a
building almost exactly parallel with the latter. Symons built courts, but he
did not attempt imposing street-fronts, and the ranges he erected between
1584 and 1586 turned their backs ungraciously to the road. The entrance to
the college was on the north side, where there is now a smaller court in the
Gothic style of 1840. What is now known as the Brick Building, east of the
entrance court and at right angles to the south side, belongs to 1633, but is
substantially in harmony with Symons’ earlier work. It forms a very
charming fragment. The classical transformation of Emmanuel was begun
during Dr Breton’s mastership. Sir Christopher Wren, who was just
completing his chapel at Pembroke, was invited to design the east side of
the court. It is interesting to observe how he followed his uncle’s design for
the chapel of Peterhouse, copying the lateral galleries which connect the
chapel with the main buildings. Wren built these between 1665 and 1677,
and it is probable that, when he began working at Trinity in 1675, he left the
completion of this beautiful composition to his pupil, Nicholas Hawksmoor.
The characteristic of the whole is a very striking dignity. Internally, the
chapel is less interesting, but the stained glass, representing noteworthy
members of the college, such as Sancroft, William Law, and some of the
Cambridge Platonists, is thoroughly suited to the fine, plain windows. The
northern gallery is the picture-gallery of the Master’s Lodge as well as an
approach to the chapel, and contains a number of fine portraits, including a
Lely, two Gainsboroughs and two Romneys.

In the last century the revival which Wren had innocently inaugurated
swept away Symons’ building. In 1719 the south side of the court was

rebuilt; the gigantic pilasters in the centre are a proof of how bad the
Palladian work of that over-abused period could be. Sir James Burrough of
Caius, who for half a century was the architectural dictator of Cambridge,
designed new north and west buildings, obeying the unconquerable desire
of the day for an eloquent façade. Because the design is Burrough’s, this
addition is tolerable and more or less appropriate to the chapel; but
Burrough died before it was begun, and this, like the Clare chapel, is a
posthumous and probably slanderous addition to his fame. At all events the
work was entrusted to Essex, who carried it out before 1770. It is perhaps
significant that Essex was chosen, a year or two later, to compare his work
once more to Wren’s, this time at Trinity. The western cloister, which recalls
the similar but earlier building at Pembroke, is heavy but not unsuccessful.
Essex had his own way with the Hall, which is probably the least agreeable
hall in Cambridge. It is cold and stiff, and the plaster roof brings bad taste
to a climax. In the Gothic court north of this is the Library, which
corresponds to the refectory of the old Dominican house—the Hall is on the
site of the chapel. It was, till the Restoration, the college chapel. Sancroft,
to whose initiative Wren’s work is due, gave it a valuable collection of old
books, chiefly Bibles, and its Oriental manuscripts were carefully described
by Sir William Jones. The chief modern addition to Emmanuel is the large
brick building at the east end of the college garden. This, although not
remarkable in itself, is interesting as the pioneer of an attempt to revive the
economical principle of the medieval hostel. It also forms a not unfitting
termination to the pretty lawn, with its pond and tennis-courts.

“T he pure house of Emmanuel” occupies the site of the house of
Dominican Friars outside Barnwell Gate. At the dissolution the
buildings were left untouched, and, when Sir Walter Mildmay,
Chancellor of the Exchequer and Treasurer of the Household, came into

possession of the land, he had his materials for a college all ready. Sir
Walter was a strong Puritan, and was on that account no great favourite with
Queen Elizabeth. She met him one day and said, “Sir Walter, I hear that you
have erected a Puritan foundation.” Sir Walter, however, disclaimed the
insinuation, “No, Madam; far be it from me to countenance anything
contrary to your established laws; but I have set an acorn, which, when it
becomes an oak, God alone knows what will be the fruit thereof.” The
acorn, nevertheless, grew into a very Puritan oak. The buildings seem to
have been erected in a curious spirit; for, if not Sir Walter, at all events his
executors, revelled in the fact that the secular buildings of the foundation
stood upon the Friary church, and did all they could to obliterate the
monastic plan of the buildings. But, beyond this unnecessary manifestation
of spite, the college was admirably governed and its students were—and all
through its history have been—serious and law-abiding. Sir Walter founded
it as “a College of Theology, Science, Philosophy, and Literature, for the
extension of the pure Gospel of Christ our only Mediator, to the honour and
glory of Almighty God,” and appointed, as its first master, Dr Laurence
Chaderton, who ruled the college for thirty-eight years, and had a great part
in the Authorised Version of the Bible. Under Dr Chaderton, the foundation
increased in learning and godliness, and Fuller said of it, “Sure I am, at this
day it hath overshadowed all the Universities, more than a moiety of the
present masters of colleges being bred therein.” Dr Branthwaite* of Caius,
Dr Whichcot* of King’s, Dr Samuel Ward* of Sidney, and the famous
Ralph Cudworth* of Clare and Christ’s, all held fellowships at Emmanuel.
As time went on, the Puritanism of Emmanuel became more and more
pronounced. The services in the chapel savoured of Congregationalism and
were altogether opposed to the Laudian revival of church life and doctrine.
Under the first Dr Sancroft, the college ritual was thus reported to the
Archbishop, “They receive that Holy Sacrament, sitting upon forms about
the Communion Table, and do pull the Loaf one from the other, after the
minister hath begun. And so the Cup, one drinking as it were to another,
like good fellows, without any particular application of the said words,
more than once for all.” This expression of shocked piety has nothing in its
wording which allows us to expect exaggeration. The servers at the altar
were also “Fellows’ subsizars,” and not in holy orders. However, one fails
to see any extravagant Protestantism in this arrangement. Emmanuel chapel
must have presented a strange contrast to Wren’s and Cosin’s chapel at

Peterhouse, or to the chapel at Queens’ which Dowsing ransacked so
unceremoniously. The college, meanwhile, was the nursery of American
colonisers, and has therefore always been a goal of American pilgrimage.
Mr Everett’s bombastic passage on the subject has been often quoted; its
eloquence is scarcely of the finest type. But, in company with a row of
Pilgrim Fathers, Emmanuel produced John Harvard, the founder of the
greatest American University, and may therefore be called the mother of
American education.
But, in common with St John’s and other colleges, Emmanuel lost its
Puritanism with years. The Restoration brought in a better state of feeling,
and, under the second Dr Sancroft and his successors, Doctors Breton* and
Holbech,* the college devoted its energies to building. William Sancroft
became Archbishop of Canterbury, and kept up the traditions of his college
in refusing to acknowledge James II.’s Declaration. He was the chief of the
seven bishops who signed the famous petition against that document.
Afterwards, as a non-juror, he resigned his archbishoprick. But the best of
all the sons of Emmanuel was another non-juror, William Law, who was for
many years a fellow, and held the living of King’s Cliffe in
Northamptonshire. This great man has become better known to the world
since the publication of his biography by Canon Overton, and the reprinting
of his letters to Bishop Hoadly. He was a staunch and able supporter of the
Church’s principles, but his most abiding monument is the half mystical but
intensely practical treatise called A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life.
The book has had an influence second only to that of the Pilgrim’s
Progress, and its wide application may be judged from the fact that it
affected people so widely different as Dr Johnson and Richard Hurrell
Froude. Its simple but vivid style and its picturesque quaintness, account
very largely for its popularity. In later years, Law, a solitary and meditative
man, took up the half-understood ideas of German mysticism, and became a
blind disciple of Jacob Behmen. These later aberrations have somewhat
eclipsed his legitimate fame. The college has commemorated him by a
window in the chapel. In connection with Law, it is interesting to remember
that another mystical writer, Joseph Hall, Bishop, first of Exeter and
afterwards of Norwich, was a fellow of Emmanuel. There is a portrait of
Hall in the splendid collection at the Lodge, in which he is represented as
wearing a gold medal. This medal was given him by the States General as a

recognition of his services at the Synod of Dort, and the original is still in
the possession of the college.
There is also, in the same collection, an admirable portrait of Sancroft,
who, beyond his contributions to the new chapel, was a great benefactor to
the library. This library is one of the most valuable in Cambridge. Bishop
Bedell of Kilmore, who pursued his studies at Emmanuel with great
success, and was a fellow of the college, left it a Hebrew Bible which he
had bought for its weight in silver. Among other treasures it contains a MS.
of Chrysostom and a copy of Wyclif’s Bible, with the inscription “Ihū help
us, for we ben feble.” To return to the portraits in the Master’s Lodge. We
find there an excellent portrait of that accomplished diplomat and typical
prig, Sir William Temple, by Lely. And, among other seventeenth-century
worthies, we are glad to see the portrait of the greatest of Cambridge
builders, Ralph Symons, “Effigies Radulphi Simons,” the inscription goes,
“Architecti sua aetate peritissimi qui praeter plurima aedificia ab eo
praeclare facta, duo collegia Emanuelis hoc Sydneii illud exstruxit integre.
Magnam etiam partem Trinitatis reconcinnavit amplissime.”
After the time of Law and the non-jurors, the history of Emmanuel is
very quiet, and the stately ease for which its buildings are conspicuous
possessed the college. During the mastership of Dr William Richardson,* in
1765, a member of the college published a book which had a tremendous
effect on English literature. This was the Reliques of Ancient English
Poetry, collected by Bishop Percy of Dromore. The labours of this
antiquarian are a lasting glory to his college. A similar taste was apparent in
Richardson’s successor, “rare” Richard Farmer (* Romney) who was master
from 1775 to 1797. The love of himself and his coterie for Shakspeare took
him, night after night, to the theatre at Stourbridge Fair, and his affection
for the drama combined with his good-fellowship made him something of a
curiosity at the time when most college masters were dry and pedantic. To
the same period belongs Samuel Parr, whose pipe, tobacco-box, and stopper
are preserved by the College. He was undoubtedly a wit and a good talker,
but his jokes were lengthy and pompous, and he scarcely deserves the
praise of those admirers who have likened him to Dr Johnson and Sydney
Smith. For most of us, possibly, he lives entirely by virtue of de Quincey’s
essay upon him.

The two most famous scholars whom Emmanuel produced in the
eighteenth century were Joshua Barnes,* Professor of Greek at its
beginning, and Richard Hurd,* Bishop in succession of Lichfield and
Worcester, who died in 1808. Hurd was a theologian with a somewhat dull
pen, and is now chiefly remembered as the disciple, friend and biographer
of Bishop Warburton. At the beginning of this century Sir Busick Harwood,
a scientific man greatly in advance of his age, was Professor of Anatomy.
Gell, the antiquary and explorer of Pompeii, who died in 1836, was also an
Emmanuel man. But the present century, although the standard of work and
scholarship has been high, is not prolific in eminent names. Our greatest
living historian, Dr Creighton, held a fellowship at Emmanuel according to
the terms of the Dixie Professorship, but Cambridge cannot count him as
her own. At present, the college is rapidly increasing in numbers and
emulates the modern popularity of Pembroke; and it has the distinction, rare
at Cambridge, of success on the river and in the schools alike.

XVIII
SIDNEY SUSSEX COLLEGE

Sidney Sussex College

R alph Symons, the great Cambridge builder whose name deserves to be
more widely known than it is, was the architect chosen to superintend

the works at Sidney. He was employed on Nevile’s Court at Trinity, and
was, a year or two later, to begin operations in the second court of St John’s.
Sidney, which was ready at the beginning of 1599, was quite comparable
with those famous works of art. As usual, the architect did not attempt to
manage a street-front. Here, however, instead of turning the back of his
buildings to the street, as at Emmanuel, he constructed an oblong three-
sided court, whose eastern side directly fronted the street. In 1628 Sir
Francis Clerke of Houghton Conquest completed a second court on similar
lines. The south side of one court thus became the north side of the other.
This common side, which exactly bisects the building, was terminated by a
gateway opening on the street and into either court. In this original plan the
entrance to the Hall was immediately in the centre of the eastern range of
the north court; the entrance to the Chapel occupied a similar position in the
south court. We are still able to admire this graceful and simple plan. But of
the original buildings the only remaining traces are the oriels in the garden-
front of the Master’s Lodge. In 1776 Essex, who had for the last ten years
been “improving” Cambridge out of knowledge, built a new chapel; and in
1830, while Dr Chafy was master—the names of these masters deserve to
be handed down—it was decided to thoroughly remodel the college in the
new Gothic style. This step was prompted simply by the admiration which
Wilkins’ doings at Corpus, Trinity, and King’s had excited. Each college
glowed with pious emulation, and Sidney chose for its destroyer Sir Jeffrey
Wyattville, who had Gothicised a great part of Windsor Castle. Wyattville
overhauled the college in the Vandal manner; removed all traces, save those
I have referred to, of Symons’ obsolete work, and replaced it by the present
pretentious and insipid structure which adorns the eastern side of Sidney
Street. It is a comfort to know that a later generation has made amends for
this criminal error of taste. A court, or rather two sides of a court, with

cloisters, have been added in recent years by the late Mr John
Loughborough Pearson. This range of buildings, not very obvious owing to
the high walls behind which it stands, is of red brick, and, like many other
new buildings in Cambridge, is in the style of the French Renaissance with
English modifications. It is certainly one of Mr Pearson’s great successes,
and is, moreover, a success in a line which he seldom attempted. The court
—which contains, by the way, a very fine Combination Room—is one of
the most retired spots in Cambridge, and in its studious shades it is possible
to forget Wyattville’s ravages.

I
n 1589 died an excellent lady, Frances Lady Sussex, widow of the second
Earl. She was the daughter of Sir William Sidney, and would in any case
have achieved a negative distinction as the wife of Thomas Radcliffe and
the aunt of Sir Philip Sidney. But in her will she left a legacy of five
thousand pounds, to be employed by her executors in the foundation of a
college at Cambridge, or, in case the bequest were insufficient, in enlarging
Clare Hall. Six years later, the executors bought a site from Trinity College.
When Henry VIII. founded Trinity, he made over to it the lands of the
Franciscan Friary which, until the dissolution, had occupied the space
between the modern Sidney Street and the King’s Ditch. The buildings were
apparently taken down and used as a quarry for Henry’s new college. Thus
the site was vacant, and the executors, after making a preliminary payment
of a hundred marks, took over the ground on a perpetual lease, and engaged
to pay a rent of £13. 6s. 8d. yearly. These executors, the actual founders of
Sidney, were the Earl of Kent and Sir John Harrington, the translator of
Ariosto. The college was called the College of the Lady Frances Sidney
Sussex, and took her arms, Radcliffe impaling Sidney. The pheon, the
heraldic symbol of the Sidneys, is the badge of the college, and, like the
eagle of St John’s and the silver crescent of Trinity Hall, has given its title
to the college magazine of our own days.
The first master was appointed in 1598. He was Dr James Montagu,* and
became Bishop of Winchester, where he died in 1618. But, in spite of this
augury, the history of Sidney is the reverse of prelatical. Of late years, the
college has somewhat retrieved its past record, but, on the whole, its

distinction is Puritan. It is, however, a college whose history finds its centre
in one event, and that event is vague and shadowy. In the college books,
under the date April 23rd, 1616, is the following inscription, “Oliverus
Cromwell, Huntingdoniensis, admissus ad commensum sociorum Aprilis
vicesimo sexto; Tutore Magᵒ Ricardo Howlet.” Few colleges boast such a
fellow-commoner. The note which follows, written in after years by a good
Royalist, is worth transcribing: “Hic fuit grandis ille impostor, carnifex
perditissimus, qui, pientissimo rege Carolo primo nefaria caede sublato,
ipsum usurpavit thronum, et tria regna per quinque ferme annorum spatium,
sub protectoris nomine, indomita tyrannide vexavit.” Vexavit, as Polonius
would say, is good. No language is more abusive than aptly handled Latin!
This “big impostor and most damn’d butcher” stayed at Cambridge till July,
1617, and then, like many great men, left without taking his degree. His
contribution to the social life of his college has been stigmatised as
discreditable, but this is probably invidious rumour and nothing more. The
window of his room—which, by the way, dates from 1827 or thereabout—
is still shown to the credulous. There is an admirable portrait of him in the
hall, which was presented to the college, with a rather unnecessary parade
of anonymity, by Mr Holles of the Hyde in Essex.
The great name of Cromwell must not, however, suffer us to forget the
names of the good and pious men whom Sidney has nurtured. Dr Edmund
Calamy, the famous Nonconformist divine, was a member of the college.
So was Thomas Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man. So, too, were Jones of
Nayland, the revivalist and hymn-writer, and an even more famous
Evangelical preacher, Thomas Cecil. Sidney had, indeed, a very
conspicuous share in the revival of spiritual life at the end of the last
century. On the other hand, the college produced, by way of an anomaly, Sir
Roger l’Estrange, the Royalist pamphleteer, whose sympathies were
certainly apart from his education. The laborious antiquary, Thomas Rymer
of the Fœdera, was also a Sidney man. In our own century it has been
recorded that—

There was a young man of Sid. Sussex
Who stated that w + x
Was the same as xw!
So they said, “We will trouble you
To confine those ideas to Sid. Sussex.”

But any such misconception has been rectified by the present master, Mr
Charles Smith, whose mathematical text-books are classics in their own
branch of literature. And, among living members of the college, we may
notice the present Bishop of Bloemfontein, Dr John Wale Hicks, who is not
only celebrated for his equal skill in medicine and divinity, but, as tutor of
his college and vicar of Little St Mary’s, has had perhaps the greatest
spiritual influence on modern Cambridge life. Although Sidney is a small
college, there is none which is so remarkable for the patriotism and good-
fellowship existing among its undergraduates; and, within very recent years,
it has supplied the University with excellent athletes, and one of its
members has become president of the Union.

XIX
DOWNING COLLEGE

J ames Wilkins, the builder of Downing, must be distinguished from the
later William Wilkins, the gothic experimentalist. If the second Wilkins
had worked in the manner of the first, we should have missed some
valuable historical relics, but should have gained in other respects.
Downing, with its heavy angularities and immense porticoes, is not a very
great advance on the plans so cherished by Mr James Essex, but it bears the
marks of a good intention, and is an excellently proportioned building. It
was begun in 1807, but has never been finished, and now simply consists of
two parallel ranges running north and south, with a wide space of lawn
between them. Its situation is very remote, but to this it owes its chief
beauty, the lovely park with its fine avenues. The view northwards from the
park, embracing the fellows’ garden, and ending in the towers of the new
Roman Catholic Church, is worth seeing, although the contrast of the
classical college with one of the latest examples of modern Gothic work is
somewhat inharmonious.

D
owning is almost the youngest of Cambridge colleges, and its history
is chiefly concerned with its foundation. At Gamlingay, in the only
part of Cambridgeshire that can be called picturesque, there lived from
about 1680 to 1749, a baronet named Sir George Downing. He had been the
victim of a compulsory marriage. At the early age of fifteen, he had been
married to his cousin Mary Forester, who herself was only thirteen. They
never lived together, and in 1717, Sir George made a will by which he
bequeathed his estates to some collateral relatives. This document contained
the provision that, if his heirs died out, the estates were to be applied to the
use of a college which his trustees should found in Cambridge. He

nevertheless outlived the trustees, and, dying in 1749, left his property to
his collateral heir, Sir Jacob Downing. Sir Jacob was married, but died
without issue in 1764. His wife retained the estates, but this gave rise to a
long lawsuit, and, at her death, Chancery pronounced the original will to be
valid. The Charter was granted in 1800, but the buildings were not begun
till 1807, and the college was not in working order till 1821.
Sir George Downing’s design had included a master and sixteen fellows.
In addition—presumably to confer some prestige upon a late foundation—
he had provided for two professorships in connection with the college, the
Downing Professorships of Medicine and of the Laws of England. Although
the influx of undergraduates was at first very small, the valuable law
scholarships attracted many students in course of time. The second master,
Mr Serjeant Frere,* was an eminent lawyer, and is still renowned as the first
of college masters who dispensed their hospitality without too keen an eye
to rigid selection. Dr Annesley, the first master, from 1805 to 1812, was the
head of a college which had no corporate existence, and Mr Frere, for nine
years, was in a similar position. Downing has the misfortune of being in a
very remote, although charming situation, and the number of her
undergraduates has never been very large. But her present society includes
the Professor of Law, Dr Maitland; and her master, Dr Alexander Hill, is a
distinguished ornament of the medical school. And, among the doctors who
have been educated at Downing are the late Sir George Humphrey,
Professor Latham, and one of the best known of living physicians, Professor
Bradbury.

XX
SELWYN COLLEGE, ETC.

T he memory of George Augustus Selwyn, the great Bishop, first of
Melanesia, afterwards of Lichfield, is honoured in Cambridge by the
latest of all the colleges. Selwyn, one of a famous Cambridge family,
died in 1877; and in 1882, Selwyn College was opened. The object of the
college is that which had, some time before, prompted the foundation of
Keble—the provision of University education at a more moderate rate than
had hitherto been the case. It is conducted on what is known as the hostel
system; that is to say, its members, while enjoying all University privileges,
have all their meals in common, and are supplied with most necessaries at
fixed rates from the college buttery. This is, we may believe, the simple
system out of which great foundations like Trinity grew; and, since Selwyn
began it, one or two other colleges have pursued it with some success on a
voluntary principle. At Selwyn, however, the hostel life is compulsory; and
the college is known officially as Selwyn Hostel. It has not lived long
enough to produce any great sons as yet, but its record is honourable, and
we may expect much from it in the future.[8] Its buildings, forming two
sides of a quadrangle, are of red brick, and were designed by Sir Arthur
Blomfield, who also built the Master’s Lodge at the east corner of the
enclosure. As the essence of the college’s existence is to provide
accommodation for students, the buildings are devoted to rooms, and the
Hall and Chapel were left to the last. For the first thirteen years of the
history of the college, these necessities of college life were supplied by the
low range of temporary buildings just inside the entrance gate. There, too,
for some time to come the Hall will have to remain, a very simple room,
whose only ornament is the portrait of Mr Arthur Lyttelton, late master and
now vicar of Eccles. This, by Mr C. W. Furse, is a striking example of the
New English school. In 1895, however, one of the wishes of the college was
fulfilled, and the present noble Chapel was erected from Sir Arthur
Blomfield’s design. It stands north of the Master’s Lodge, and is a very
large and lofty building of red brick, with freestone dressings. The style is a
free adaptation of English Perpendicular, the admirable window tracery

being a remarkable feature. The interior is very good, and the very complete
set of stalls, with their grotesque carvings and modern misereres, would do
honour to a medieval collegiate church. Its consecration by the Bishop of
Ely in October, 1895, was one of the most imposing ceremonies which have
been seen of late years in Cambridge. The late Archbishop of Canterbury
and several other prelates assisted at the function, and the sermon at mid-
day was preached by the Archbishop. If the pious founders of the older
colleges had been able to be present, and had seen the whole college walk
in procession round the quadrangle in the early morning, singing the sixty-
eighth psalm, and had assisted at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist
which followed, they would assuredly have thanked God that the traditions
of their Church and of the University which was its daughter were
preserved and cherished by more modern foundations.
Ridley Hall represents a school of thought somewhat different from that
to which Selwyn owes its being, and is altogether a modern development in
University life. Like Selwyn, it has an Oxford counterpart in Wycliffe Hall.
It was founded in 1879 as a training college for those who, having already
graduated from some college, wish to proceed to Holy Orders. Under the
headship of Doctor Moule, it has already sent out several distinguished
members of the Evangelical party, and has also been of great service to
missionary societies. It has certainly proved itself a power in modern
Cambridge, chiefly through the influence of its eminent principal; and has
encouraged other religious bodies to attempt what is an accomplished fact
in Oxford. The Presbyterian body are now building themselves a large
theological college at the corner of the Madingley Road. The buildings of
Ridley are not unlike those of Selwyn, and the Renaissance chapel with its
picturesque iron turret is a pleasing object from most points of view. The
architect of the older portion was Mr Charles Luck; the chapel and southern
range were designed by Mr W. Wallace.
After many vicissitudes, Ayerst Hall has at length disappeared. Some
years ago the Rev. W. Ayerst of Caius College established a small college
on the hostel principle, which occupied the buildings now known as Queen
Anne’s Terrace, between Parker’s Piece and the University Cricket Ground.
In 1894 his students vacated these buildings for a new range between the
Huntingdon and Madingley Roads, and their original home is now the
offices of the University Correspondence College. Rather less than three

years later, the venture was abandoned, and the new buildings were
purchased for a colony of Benedictines. Since the building of the great
church of Our Lady of the Assumption and the English Martyrs, which is so
conspicuous a feature from the railway, the influx of Roman Catholic
students has been much greater. In 1896 a Roman Catholic chaplaincy was
founded in both Universities. The direct result of this measure was the
purchase of Ayerst Hall and the establishment of a theological school for
Roman Catholic undergraduates. This scheme is in its infancy, and its future
remains to be seen. The new hostel is known as Edmund House.
Another abortive attempt was Cavendish College, founded in 1882,
which took its name and coat-of-arms from the late Duke of Devonshire. By
an irony of fate, it is the only collegiate building which the passer-by sees
from the train—that is, unless he keeps a sharp lookout for King’s Chapel.
It was, however, a mile from the nearest college, on the furthest outskirts of
the town, and, after a precarious existence, it failed and was closed in 1891.
Between 1891 and 1895 the curious might roam through its halls
unchecked, inspect the deserted library and the singularly comfortable
buildings, and muse on the names of departed occupants inscribed on the
staircases. Some of its students went down; others joined other colleges. In
1895 it was bought by Mr J. C. Horobin of Homerton, who transferred to it
his training-college for schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. Its part in
University life is not over yet, but its proud title has been exchanged for the
more suburban name of Homerton, and now only old-fashioned people call
it Cavendish.
Lastly, there is Fitzwilliam Hall. The same desire which led to the
foundation of Selwyn and Keble led to the passing of a grace by the Senate
of both Universities, by which students were allowed to become members
of the University without joining any particular college. Unattached
students now form a considerable element at both Oxford and Cambridge.
The necessity for a certain amount of combination goes, nevertheless,
without saying; and its result is Fitzwilliam Hall. A house opposite the
Fitzwilliam Museum has been purchased, and has been turned into a club
for non-collegiate students. There are a reading-room, lecture rooms, and
rooms for the tutors, who are, for the most part, distinguished members of
the older foundations. The non-collegiates have their own gown, their boat
on the river, and their own clubs and societies; and, although some of their

most promising members in time join other colleges, they have a distinct
corporate life and status of their own. Thus, although Cambridge has in
none of these respects been in front of her traditionally conservative sister,
she has at all events followed not very far behind her in any.

XXI
GIRTON AND NEWNHAM

A few words must be devoted to these foundations, which, it cannot be
doubted, are destined to play so important a part in the future life of
the University. In the last chapter, I said that some of the founders
would have rejoiced to see a ceremony so much in keeping with traditional
usage as the consecration of Selwyn Chapel. It is at least doubtful whether
Henry VI. would have looked with approval on the lady students who are so
assiduous worshippers at his chapel; and even his imperious consort, the
foundress of Queens’, and the Lady Margaret herself, with her rooms in
Christ’s, would have probably hesitated to admit their own sex to the
privileges of University life. But “the old order changeth,” and colleges for
women are not only accomplished facts, but facts which are very lively
indeed. Till within the last half century, the University’s estimate of the
rights of women was very oriental: unmarried fellows were the rule, and
masters’ wives formed a very distinct social clique. But the breaking-down
of these barriers came in time, and, with the ensuing civilisation, came the
project for giving women the privileges of University education. “You
know what women’s minds are,” wrote Erasmus scornfully of his patroness
to a friend. The Professors who to-day occupy Erasmus’ numerous chairs
have plenty of opportunity of seeing that women’s minds are not to be
dismissed in a phrase. At any rate, woman has stormed Cambridge, and
made a considerable breach in the fortifications, and the most doctrinaire of
conservatives cannot keep her from the closely guarded citadel of the
degree.
Girton is the earlier of the two colleges. It was started at Hitchin in 1869,
and was removed to Cambridge in 1873. Even then it planted itself outside
the hallowed precinct, on the brow of a hill, beside the straightest of all
straight roads. Every Girton student knows, to her cost, the long avenue of
telegraph posts which separates her from Cambridge; and although this
approach, in fine weather, provides excellent landscapes in Hobbéma’s best
manner, in wet weather it is exceptionally dismal. She has her

compensation, however, in the beautiful view which her college commands;
and the buildings, although externally of rather various merit, are inside as
comfortable as any in modern Cambridge. The style of the building is a
mixed Gothic, and the older parts have a very mellow, aged look, but the
entrance tower and its wings are built of a singularly disagreeable brick,
which, one may hope, will in time be concealed by ivy or some other
creeper. The college takes its name from the village of Girton, about half a
mile to the north. The church of Girton is worth seeing.
Newnham, which is in Cambridge itself, is a later foundation, but its
progress has been astonishing. It also takes its name from a suburban
village which has gradually become part of the town. The buildings of
Newnham form a very imposing array, and are a remarkable contrast, with
their Renaissance gables, to the Gothic buildings of Selwyn, just across the
road. Mr Basil Champneys has produced in them one of the best modern
imitations of French Renaissance; and their outline, seen at a favourable
distance, would not be unworthy of Chambord or Chenonceaux. The oldest
part is the Old Hall, forming the south-eastern angle of the college; this
belongs to 1875. Then came Clough Hall on the north side. Sidgwick Hall
followed it, and completed this side, and, in 1894, two sides of a quadrangle
were finished and the Old Hall joined to the rest by the erection of the
Pfeiffer Building. In this latest part of the college is the principal gateway,
now closed by a double gate of beautiful ironwork, in memory of the first
principal, Miss Clough. In the hall are portraits of Miss Clough, Professor
and Mrs Sidgwick, and Miss M. G. Kennedy, by Mr J. J. Shannon, and one
(by Richmond) of Miss Helen Gladstone, who till lately was one of the
leading Newnham dons. Young as they are, both Girton and Newnham have
their history, and are able to inspire their students with a patriotism which is
the natural result of extraordinary perseverance and hardly-won victories.

Newnham College

XXII
THE UNIVERSITY BUILDINGS

F ond tradition would compel us to accept the so-called School of
Pythagoras as the fons et origo of the medieval University. However,
the legend does not go for very much, and we may suppose that, until the
foundation of several colleges brought about the necessity of a common
centre, education was carried on in the numerous monastic houses or by
private teachers at their own lodgings. The present schools, within the limits
of the University Library, are probably in part of the fourteenth century, but,
for the most part, belong to the latter half of the next century. They are not
very conspicuous, and probably ninety-nine out of a hundred Cambridge
men have never been inside them, as the majority of public examinations
are held in the Senate House and the various large halls of which the town
is full. They are, moreover, so incorporated in the Library as to form part of
the building, and have no very distinctive mark.

The Senate House

The architectural history of the Library is singularly complex. It occupies
two quadrangles north of and running parallel with King’s Chapel. The first
of these is the quadrangle of the schools, and is entered from the open space
between the Senate House and King’s; the second occupies the site of the
original quadrangle of King’s, and is entered from the opposite side. Mr G.
G. Scott has restored the old gateway with some success, and it forms a
good contrast to the opposite gateway at Clare. Round these courts are
grouped the very various Library buildings. The Library itself is entered
from the eastern side, to which it presents a very stiff classical front.
Somewhere between 1470 and 1480, the great prelate, Thomas Rotherham,
then fellow of King’s and Bishop of Lincoln, built a Perpendicular façade
on this side; and this was the beginning of the buildings. Hitherto the few
books which the Library contained, mostly bequeathed by Dr Richard
Holme in 1424, had been placed in the present south gallery on the first
floor of the quadrangle. The opposite gallery was then the Senate House.

The western gallery, above the school of Canon Law, overlooked the Court
of King’s. Rotherham thus completed the first quadrangle, and, until the
eighteenth century, the Library was contained in the eastern, southern and
western rooms. Mr Clark, in his picturesque notes on Cambridge, assures us
that it must have been hopelessly neglected. The days of building prelates
were long past when, in 1715, George I., for some unknown reason,
purchased the library of Dr John Moore, Bishop in succession of Norwich
and Ely, and presented it to the University. Just about the same time, he had
sent a regiment to enforce loyalty on Oxford. The epigrams which passed
between the Tory and Whig Universities on this occasion have been so
often quoted as to need no repetition. The Oxford epigram takes the palm
for neatness, but the Cambridge retort was the last word on the subject.
However, although King George’s gift cannot be valued too highly as a
benefaction to Cambridge, and was also an incentive to wit of a very
felicitous order, it was in one way rather unfortunate. The books were
many; accommodation was small. It was proposed to place the addition in
what was then the Senate House, and to build a new meeting-place for the
University. Mr Burrough of Caius submitted a plan for the new Senate
House, of which we can see the result to-day. The quadrangle was thus
entirely given over to the Library. It must have formed one of the most
beautiful in Cambridge; to-day the western room, running between the two
courts, has one of the best interiors in any library. But the age was hostile to
medieval buildings. With architects like Burrough and Gibbs—excellent
architects, both of them—carrying out their classical designs on either side,
the Library was not suffered to remain unmolested. The University decided
to harmonise it with these structures. In 1754 Rotherham’s front was
destroyed, and the present Georgian façade was put up, which, after all,
harmonises very badly with the Senate House. Rotherham’s gateway was

bought by the owner of Madingley Hall, and is now the entrance to the
stables there. It is much to be regretted, for the present aspect of the Library
is singularly ignoble. The interior, however, offers a better contrast. From
the classical east room, which, with all its plastered ugliness, is certainly
stately and not inappropriate, we pass into the Catalogue Room, once the
Senate House. Somebody adorned this room with a plaster ceiling in the last
century, but the old timber roof is being restored. In the west room, which
contains some valuable woodwork, we go back further into antiquity, and,
when we have completed the circuit of the Library, we shall have seen a
series of buildings which, in their diversity, are thoroughly characteristic of
Cambridge.
The present century has added enormously to the Library. King’s
transferred itself finally to the other side of the chapel when Wilkins
finished his range of buildings—that is, approximately in 1830. Soon after
this the important annexe which now constitutes the whole north side of the
Library was added. Its architect was Mr C. R. Cockerell. It is a colossal
building, and its external ugliness may be fully appreciated from the old
King’s quadrangle, where all the buildings in front of it have been cleared
away. Its interior, almost entirely devoted to theology, is as fine and
imposing as its exterior is hideous, and is, moreover, a very agreeable room
for students. Here the more remarkable manuscripts are exhibited, among
which the famous Codex Bezae has the place of honour. Theodore Béza,
whose name is in the first rank of Biblical critics, saved it from the sack of
the monastery of St Irénée at Lyons in 1562, and presented it to the
University—a gift worthy of the academy in which Erasmus had laid the
foundations of Scriptural study. At the west end of the same building are the
statues of George I. (by Rysbrack) and George II. (by Wilton) which used to
stand in the Senate House. Cockerell’s work finds its antithesis in the

opposite side of the court, which was rebuilt by Sir Gilbert Scott on a
thoroughly medieval plan. Scott also added a second storey to this side,
which, like Cockerell’s building, was continued into the eastern court. He
also entirely refaced the front opposite King’s Chapel. The effect is
uniform, but gloomy. His son completed the existing Library by restoring
the western façade. The rooms on the ground floor are also appropriated to
books, principally modern and lighter literature, but contain nothing worth
seeing. Cockerell’s building is an exception, for its ground floor is occupied
by the Woodwardian Museum of Geology.
In spite of the misfortunes which it brought about, the Senate House is
one of those buildings which gave Cambridge its greatest dignity. One may
hesitate to compare it with the Radcliffe Library at Oxford, which was
finished about twenty-five years later, but it is largely due to the same
architect and is certainly an addition to his credit. Gibbs had, however, only
a small share in the work, for Burrough is its real designer. It is an oblong
building, with entrances on the east and on the middle of the south sides. It
has a double range of windows throughout, save on the west side, where
they are blank. Those in the upper storey are round-headed, those in the
lower are square-headed and are surmounted by plain architraves,
alternately round and pointed. The whole building is surrounded by an order
of composite pilasters, cut square save near the doors, where they are round
and fluted. Above the cornice is a balustrade, broken judiciously by the
pediments of the entrances, which give the building its distinctive feature.
The whole is one of the best specimens of early Georgian architecture in
England, and the interior is perfectly consonant with the simple grandeur of
the outside. The oak galleries suit the building admirably. At the east end,
near the door, are the statues of the Duke of Somerset, Chancellor at the

Revolution, and of William Pitt: the first by Rysbrack, the second by
Nollekens.
After the Senate House, geographically and in point of time, comes the
Pitt Press in Trumpington Street, a very glorious achievement of the early
Gothic revivalists. Mr Bowes’ list, published a year or two ago, is the
monumental record of Cambridge printing, but, when the Pitt Press was
founded, the traditions of John Siborch, who had set up a press in the
University about 1521, had been almost forgotten. Even since then, the Pitt
Press, although the parent of Professor Jebb’s edition of Sophocles and
other masterpieces of erudition, has scarcely proved itself the rival of the
Clarendon. Its origin is curious. After the Great Commoner’s death, a
subscription fund was started to commemorate him, the immediate results
of which were the statues in Westminster Abbey and Hanover Square. The
rest of the money was employed in building the Pitt Press. In the
chronological order of works of the date, it stands just after Wilkins’ screen
at King’s, and just before Rickman’s court at St John’s. Its architect was
Edward Blore, and it was finished in 1833. It is not uglier than most
buildings of the period, and the gateway tower looks well at a sufficient
distance. This tower, by the way, has often given rise to the impression that
it is an ecclesiastical building of some kind, and it is known generally as the
“freshman’s church.” The hoax used at one time to be practised on
unsuspecting young gentlemen during their early days of residence, but the
epithet is now too well known to be misleading.

Further on, and on the same side of Trumpington Street, is the
Fitzwilliam Museum. In 1816 died Richard, Viscount Fitzwilliam, who
bequeathed his library and pictures to the University. He left also £100,000
for the building of a museum to receive them. His princely benefaction was,
of course, accepted; and, pending the erection of a building, the collections

were deposited in the old Perse School, now the Engineering Laboratory.
Building was not begun till late in the thirties, when Basevi was employed
to execute the present design. Basevi, however, fell from the great tower of
Ely before the work was finished, and what he had begun was continued by
Mr Cockerell. This architect had earned a dubiously just reputation for his
proceedings at the University Library; here he had an excellent plan to work
on, and did justice to it. The Fitzwilliam Museum, with the exception of
certain decorations, was completed in 1847; the collections, augmented
meanwhile by private bequests, were brought from the Perse School in
1848. Differences of opinion exist as to the merit of the building and the
collections, but there can be no doubt that the façade is, after that of St
Paul’s, one of the best of its kind anywhere. It is astonishingly good for its
period. The decoration of the entrance hall is splendid but meretricious, and
the lavish profusion of coloured marbles is almost suspicious. A statue of
the Prince Consort is the cynosure of this brilliancy, and there is a portrait
of him in the basement, dressed in his Chancellor’s robes, with a red curtain
and the great gate of Trinity in the background. For the most part the
basement is devoted to the University Museum of Antiquities, the nucleus
of which was bequeathed by Samuel Disney of the Hyde, Essex. In memory
of this gentleman has been founded the Disney Professorship of
Archæology. On the ground-floor also is the valuable Fitzwilliam Library,
and a very perfect library of musical works. In one of the rooms part of the
valuable collection of engravings is exhibited. This comprises specimens of
early Flemish and German artists, Albert Dürer, the Little Masters of
Germany, and most of the best workers in wood-cut, steel-engraving, and
mezzotint. Others may be found upstairs among the pictures. The pictures
are of various merit, and many are copies. The fine Paul Veronese,
“Mercury turning Aglauros into stone,” which faces the principal door of

the west gallery, is undoubtedly genuine, and there are some good examples
of the Venetian school, especially two small pictures attributed to Palma the
younger. Lovers of early Italian art will find a small Madonna and Child by
Pinturicchio, while the disciples of the now unpopular Bolognese school
will admire the picture of St Roch and the Angel, by Annibale Caracci. The
room also contains a doubtful Rembrandt, two exquisitely finished little
pictures by Gerard Douw, some good Ruysdaels, a Teniers or two, and a
picture which, legend says, is the earliest Murillo in existence. There are
also portraits by Gainsborough and Hogarth.

The south room is even more miscellaneous. It is presided over by a vast
copy of a Veronese, probably by the artist’s brother, opposite which, on
either side of the entrance from the main gallery, are two portraits of the
school of Holbein, one of a bygone Fitzwilliam. The other was given by the
executors of the late Dean of Lincoln, and represents a person unknown.
Besides these, there are numerous small pictures of the late Italian type, and
views of Venice by Canaletto and Zuccarelli. A very admirable Raeburn will
appeal to all lovers of portrait art, and deserves wider fame. But the gem of
the whole collection, a series of water-colours by Turner, is in this room. Mr
Ruskin generously presented the University with these, and they may be
reckoned among its most priceless treasures. In the eastern continuation of
the room is the collection of small pictures given by Mr Daniel Mesman in
1834. Some of these, including a small landscape attributed to Ruysdael and
some delicate pictures by Adam Elzheimer, are of considerable value; but
the rest are somewhat devoid of interest. On the south wall is a set of small
pictures of the French school, mostly by Boucher, but two are attributed to
Watteau, and two to Greuze. They are, however, of no great worth. And the
rooms on the opposite side of the building are very uninteresting. Sir John
Millais’ famous “Bridesmaid” is in the western room of the two, in

company with some English landscapes, Mr Watts’ portrait of the late Duke
of Devonshire, and Mr Richmond’s portrait of the present Bishop of
Durham. The eastern room is occupied by an immense model of the Taj
Mehál, and by some very early Italian pictures, the most prominent of
which is by Cosimo Rosselli, the painter whose startling use of colour was
so acceptable to Pope Sixtus IV. Under the curatorship of Professor Colvin
and the late Professor Middleton, the interest of the Museum was much
increased; and the present curator, Dr James, the well-known theologian
and antiquarian, has followed in their footsteps.
Since the days of Lord Fitzwilliam’s bequest, the University’s ardour has
been turned in the direction of science. Most of the public buildings since
then, such as the huge laboratories and Anatomical Museum (a work of
Salvin’s) are devoted to that interest, and the visitor will find them more
utilitarian than anything else. In speaking of Pembroke, I have already
referred to Mr Scott’s façade to the Chemical Laboratory. The archæologist,
however, will be greatly relieved to find the beautiful timber roof of the
Perse school still existing where he least expects it—namely, in the
Engineering Laboratory. These buildings, however, and others, such as the
Observatory in the Madingley Road, and Sir Digby Wyatt’s extraordinary
façade at Addenbrooke’s Hospital, which, the famous “Cambridge
Freshman” was gravely informed, was the Vice-Chancellor’s official
residence, speak for themselves. Not the least important feature of modern
Cambridge is the unobtrusive red-brick building in Mill Lane, occupied by
the University Extension Syndicate. Not remarkable in itself, it is the visible
sign of the aim of the modern University not to keep its cherished learning
to itself, but to distribute its advantages to others. Whether or no the idea
expressed by a far-sighted don in the last century, when he said that each
town ought to have its university, will be realised, is a possibility that rests

on the knees of the gods; but the means are certainly in use, and the wish is
in a fair way of fulfilment.

XXIII
THE CHURCHES OF CAMBRIDGE

A lthough the architectural interest of Cambridge, so far as churches are
concerned, is centred in the college chapels, there are nevertheless
several churches which are not devoid of interest, and one or two which are
quite unique. The visitor who takes the trouble to examine them will be
amply repaid, although his reminiscences of them will, after a cursory
inspection, be rather confused. Starting, then, from the western door of the
University Church, and proceeding along King’s Parade, he will find, just
opposite King’s gateway, the narrow passage which leads to St Edward’s
Church. St Edward’s occupies the centre of a flagged court, and its east end
faces Peas Hill, one of those Cambridge hills whose slope is invisible. It is a
fairly large church with broad aisles and a short tower at the west end, and
is mostly of the Decorated period, from 1340 to 1350; but it has been from
time to time restored, and the tower suffers from a hideous coating of
stucco. The nave arcade is lofty but rather meagre. The font is interesting,
and was restored by the Cambridge Camden Society in the first half of the
century. There are also good Decorated sedilia in the chancel. It was one of
the centres of reforming influence in Cambridge, and many of the Marian
martyrs, including Latimer, preached in it.

The next turning on the same side of King’s Parade is Bene’t Street, in
which, at the corner of Free School Lane, is the very interesting church of
St Benedict, long the chapel of Corpus Christi College. Although the nave
and chancel of this church were thoroughly restored in 1869 and are very
normal examples of later Gothic work, the tower and western arch belong to

a very early period, certainly anterior to the Norman Conquest. The tower is
rather thicker than most towers of its date, and rises to a very respectable
height, but it has the characteristic trait of growing thinner as it reaches the
top. The window-openings of the upper storey are small and primitive; that
in the centre of each face is double, its two lights being separated by a small
baluster-shaped column, as is the case at Earl’s Barton in Northamptonshire
and at other places. The tower-arch, inside the church, is very curious. It is
tall and narrow, and is also thinner as it reaches the top; the pilasters which
support it on either side have roughly carved capitals. One may safely refer
the whole structure to the reign of Edward the Confessor, and possibly
earlier. There are two somewhat similar towers at Lincoln, and a ruder, but
later, tower at Oxford. A staircase still connects the south-west corner of the
chancel with the old court of Corpus.

On the other side of Corpus is the church of St Botolph, a picturesque
building, chiefly of Perpendicular date, which belonged for three centuries
to the priory at Barnwell. Like most churches in Cambridge, it counted the
undergraduates of one or two of the medieval colleges among its
congregation, and the advowson now belongs to Queens’ College. It is a
fine, spacious church, and its plain tower, with the strange crawling beasts
which serve as waterspouts, is one of the very various objects which
contribute to the academical perspective of Trumpington Street. There is a
good modern window by Mr C. E. Kempe at the east end of the north aisle.
Not very far on, just opposite Pembroke, is the extremely beautiful
church of St Mary—known as Little St Mary’s to distinguish it from the
University Church. It is the most venerable object in a very heterogeneous
group of buildings. Dwarfing it on one side is Burrough’s classical wing at
Peterhouse, and, on the other, is the tower of the new Congregational
Chapel, a creditable imitation of the Belfry at Tournai. These, however,

show it to advantage, and add to its venerable aspect. It is a very lovely
example of the later Decorated style, and was built in 1352 on the site of the
old church of St Peter. There is a tradition that Alan de Walsingham, who
designed the Octagon at Ely, had something to do with it, and the very
elaborate tracery of the east window is certainly worthy of a master’s hand.
It was for two hundred and eighty years the chapel of Peterhouse, and, as at
St Bene’t’s, the passage from college to church is still preserved. Its shape
is that of a college chapel; there are no side-aisles; and, save in the two bays
south of the sanctuary, the church is lighted by a series of very large
windows. There are two good brasses, one of a doctor of medicine in his
robes, the other of a lady. It was restored by Sir Gilbert Scott, and, since
then, a western choir-vestry has been added. In 1891, the east window was
thoroughly restored and glass thoroughly worthy of it was added by the
munificence of Mr Hamblin Smith. This window, a conventional treatment
of the Annunciation, may be regarded as the best of Mr Kempe’s many
excellent windows. The small west window was also filled by Mr Kempe in
1894, but in this he has been less successful. It is to be hoped that the rest of
the windows will be similarly treated.
Little St Mary’s is almost at the extremity of Cambridge, and is the last
church on the Trumpington Road. On the Hills Road, which may be reached
by turning to the left just opposite the Leys School, are the not very
beautiful St Paul’s Church, which is a district church in the large parish of
St Andrew the Less, and the great Roman Catholic church. This fine
modern building, by Messrs Hansom of Newcastle, was built at the expense
of Mrs Lyne Stevens, and was consecrated in 1890. The glass, by Powell of
Whitefriars, is interesting but might be better. There is no church between
this and Christ’s College, opposite which is St Andrew’s the Great, rebuilt
in 1843, and remarkable for nothing save a memorial tablet in the chancel

to Captain Cook the navigator. Holy Trinity, at the next street-corner, is in
the main a Perpendicular church, but has been much added to in the present
century. Charles Simeon was for sixty years vicar of this parish, and its
traditions have been constantly kept up by a succession of noted
Evangelical priests.

The Round Church

From Holy Trinity we pass down Sidney Street and into Bridge Street.
Just opposite St John’s Chapel is the church of the Holy Sepulchre,
generally known as the Round Church. This is one of the four churches of
the Templars which remain in England, and is the earliest. The Temple
Church in London was built several years later; St Sepulchre’s at
Northampton is later again; and the round church at Little Maplestead in
Essex belongs to quite the last years of the Order. The round portion of the
Cambridge church belongs to the earliest Norman period, and was begun in
the reign of William Rufus—that is, before 1100. It consists of eight
divisions. The round-headed arches of the ground-floor rest upon massive
round piers; dwarf piers on the same principle support the arches of the
triforium, which include a double arch separated by a slender central pillar
and springing from pilasters attached to the main piers. The clerestory
above is lighted by eight round-headed openings, splayed inwardly. The ribs
of the conical roof continue into the clerestory and triforium and finish in
the spandrils of the triforium arches with grotesque corbels. Although all
this is on a miniature scale, the effect is very grand and solemn. The good
taste of the last century blocked up the triforium and filled the ground-floor
with pews. The exterior had been adorned much earlier with an upper
storey. This, to be in harmony with the late Perpendicular chancel, was
crowned by an ugly battlement. In 1841, the Cambridge Camden Society
took the church in hand. Their architect was Salvin, who restored it very
well, taking down the upper storey, adding a conical slate roof in agreement
with tradition, and opening out the Norman doorway. Unfortunately, the
Society’s taste in stained glass was not very advanced, and the gaudy east
window by Willement is not at all appropriate. Wailes’ glass in the round
part is much better, but is not all that could be desired. The Society’s stone
altar was the subject of a cause celèbre, and was pronounced illegal by Sir

Herbert Jenner Fust in 1845. This unhappy incident was the result of the
dissolution of a society which had done literally everything for the cause of
Cambridge archæology, and was no small factor in the great Church revival
of the forties. St Sepulchre’s is one of those rare livings which are in the gift
of the parishioners; and the burgesses of the parish are very tenacious of
their privilege.
Lower down, on the same side of Bridge Street, a very ignominious spire
invites us to St Clement’s, a church in the gift of Jesus College. This spire
was built from a bequest of Cole, the well-known antiquary, early in the
century, and above the west door is inscribed the punning motto, “Deum
Cole.” The body of the church is Early English. St Clement’s is the last
church on the east side of the river. St Giles’, just beyond Magdalene, is a
large modern church with an unfinished west end, but its history is not
uninteresting. There is no doubt that the priory church of St Giles stood on
this site, under the shadow of the castle. A Norman arch from the old church
has been incorporated in the south aisle of the present building; and, across
the street, the interesting little church of St Peter, whose detail is partially
Norman, doubtless served as an extra chapel. However, as the importance
of the house increased, it removed to the suburb of Barnwell. We know that
the monastery was founded by Hugolina Picot and her husband, somewhere
about 1090. The Barnwell removal took place in 1122, under the auspices
of Pain Peverel, standard-bearer to Robert of Normandy. In Barnwell, the
squalid suburb of Cambridge which lies between the Newmarket Road and
Parker’s Piece, no remains of the actual priory exist. It stood somewhere
near the ugly modern church, which, although it is the parish church of St
Andrew the Less, is called Christ Church. The little Early English building
further down the Newmarket Road was, we may presume, a parochial
chapel served by the Benedictines of the priory. It now bears the proud but

doubly erroneous title of the Abbey Church. And the beautiful Norman
chapel at Stourbridge, close to the modern Barnwell Junction, stood in a
similar relation to what must have been one of the principal of the lesser
Benedictine houses in England.

However, no one, unless he is a philanthropist or an impressionist painter,
will go out of his way to visit Barnwell; and very few casual visitors get as
far as St Giles’, unless they lose their way. The church of St Luke at New
Chesterton, not far beyond, is a good modern building, and its spire forms a
prominent feature in the view of Cambridge from the Ely Road. Returning
to the Round Church, where the two main arteries of Cambridge meet, we
turn to the right past St John’s Chapel and the Divinity Schools.[9] Between
the latter building and Whewell’s Court of Trinity is a triangular space
which is the site of All Saints’ Church. All Saints’ formed, rather more than
thirty years ago, a somewhat interesting feature in the streets of Cambridge,
for its tower projected into the street, and the pavement ran through an
archway beneath it. It was removed when Whewell’s Court was built, and
Mr G. F. Bodley erected a handsome new church just opposite Jesus
College. All Saints’ is, like St Clement’s, a Jesus living. This later building
is the best of modern Cambridge churches. Its spire is very good, and the
east window is a curious experiment by the late Sir Edward Burne-Jones
and Mr William Morris. The present Dean of Lichfield, who is a Jesus man,
has also enriched the church with a charming little window by Mr Kempe.
However, old All Saints’ has gone the way of one or two other Cambridge
churches—as, for instance, the older St Peter’s, which was taken down to
make way for Little St Mary’s, and St John the Baptist’s, which was near
Clare. This open space and disused churchyard are its only memorial. The
column in the centre was the gift of one Mr Boott, an American, who
wished to erect some memorial to Kirke White in Cambridge.

Before we return to Great St Mary’s, we pass the Decorated church of St
Michael, which was built by Hervé de Staunton in 1337, and served as a
chapel to his foundation of Michael House. It is a fine church, a good deal
modernised, but containing sedilia in the chancel, which are not unlike
those at St Edward’s. The stalls in the choir are very complete, and are very
excellent examples of fifteenth-century woodwork. At the end of the south
aisle is a picture of Charles I. which bears a very close resemblance to the
famous frontispiece of the Eikon Basilike. When Henry VIII. amalgamated
the numerous foundations in this quarter of the town, and founded Trinity
College, this church, like Great St Mary’s, became college property, and the
living is still in the gift of Trinity. In St Michael’s was buried Paul Fagius,
the Lutheran Hebraist, who lectured in Cambridge and died there during the
reign of Edward VI. His bones, however, were exhumed to gratify Queen
Mary’s Commissioners in 1557, and were burned with those of Bucer in the
Market Place. This is one of the few historical facts which we can connect
with Cambridge churches. They are, architecturally speaking, much more
interesting than the churches of many old towns, and people who are weary
of the sameness of the churches crowded together in places like Norwich or
Colchester will turn to these with relief. But their records are barren, and,
although we know a certain amount about Barnwell Priory, we should like
to know more. While of the Templars’ church absolutely no record remains,
and the building merely informs us with a baffling reticence that Cambridge
must at one time, among its religious houses, have numbered a rich and
important Commandery of that glorious but unfortunate Order.

FOOTNOTES
[1] E.g. Brancepeth and Sedgefield, Co. Durham.
[2] Merton College was founded in 1264, but its corporate existence does not
actually begin till 1274. Similarly, Peterhouse, founded in 1281, did not possess
buildings or enjoy a common life till 1284, the year of Hugh de Balsham’s death.
[3] Much of the glass was re-touched in the last century, and some was added
about 1845.
[4] Waynflete had, no doubt, something to say about the building of the
College. He was a great architect, as his work at Tattershall Castle shows.
[5] The tower may be compared with the palace which Alcock built at Ely.
Both are admirable examples of their style.
[6] With the exception of the range of buildings (1822) forming an extension
of the east side of Cloister Court.
[7] There is a somewhat untrustworthy tradition that Ben Jonson was a
member of the college for a very short time. His means, although aided by the
generosity of a friend, did not allow him to stay at Cambridge. Barry Cornwall
supposed him to have been here or at Trinity.
[8] Professor W. E. Collins, of King’s College, London, the historian, should,
however, be mentioned as an undergraduate and late tutor of Selwyn.
[9] These Schools were designed by the late Mr J. L. Pearson, R.A.

INDEX

A
Adams, J. C., 16, 64, 199.
Addenbrooke’s Hospital, 11, 293.
Alcock, John, 12, 144, 148, 152, 189.
Aldrich, Robert, 110.
Andrewes, Lancelot, 61.
Andrews, John, 82.
Annesley, Francis, 265.
Arrowsmith, John, 193.
Ashton, Charles, 157.
⸺, Hugh, 187.
Atkinson, Mr T. D., referred to, 2, 9.
Audley End, 201, 206, 218.
⸺, Thomas, Lord, 205.
Ayerst Hostel, 269.

B
Babington, Churchill, and Cardale, 199.
Bacon, Francis, Lord Verulam, 227, 228.
⸺, Sir Nicholas, 88.
⸺, Thomas, 70.
Badew, Richard de, 49.

Bainbrigge, Thomas, 169.
Baker, Philip, 111.
⸺, Thomas, 194.
Balfour, Mr A. J. and Mr G. W., 243.
Balsham, Hugh de, 34, 190.
Bancroft, William, 155.
Barlow, William, 81.
Barnard’s Castle, Thomas of, 35.
Barnes, Francis, 41.
⸺, Joshua, 253.
Barnwell Priory, 7, 88, 296, 304.
Barrow, Isaac, 221, 227, 232.
Basevi, work by, 288.
Batchcroft, Thomas, 72.
Bateman, William, 69, 78, 87.
Bateson, W. H., 200.
Beadon, Richard, 157.
Beale, William, 155, 193.
Beaumont, Robert, 227.
Bedell, William, 251.
Beechey, portraits by, 91, 157.
Bell, Beaupré, 238.
Benedictine Nunnery, 153.
Bentley, Richard, 15, 196, 215, 223, 235.
Béza, Theodore, 284.
Bickersteth, Edward, 64.

Bill, William, 227.
Bingham, William, 165.
Blandford, Marquess of, 102.
Blomfield, work by Sir Arthur, 267.
Blore, work by, 287.
Blythe, Samuel, 42, 52.
Bodley, work by Mr G. F., 104, 127, 165, 306.
Bokenham, William, 69.
Bonwicke, Ambrose, 195.
Booth, Laurence, 58.
Bottisham, John of, 35.
Bowes, Mr, on Cambridge Books, 286.
Bowles, Thomas Lisle, 118.
Bradbury, Professor J. B., 265.
Bradford, John, 60.
Bradshaw, Henry, 104, 118.
Brady, Robert, 73.
Bramhall, John, 170.
Branthwaite, William, 248.
Brassie, Robert, 111.
Braybrooke, Lord, 208.
Brazen George Inn, 167.
Breton, John, 245, 250.
Brontë, Patrick, 199.
Browne, E. H., 187.
⸺, Dr G. F., 142.

⸺, Isaac H., 239.
Bucer, Martin, 307.
Buckingham, Henry and Edward Stafford, Dukes of, 205.
Burghley, Lord, 192.
Burne-Jones, Sir E., see Morris, W.
Burrough, Sir James, 74;
work by, 25, 26, 33, 45, 68, 246, 282, 285.
Butler, Dr H. M., 242.
Byron, Lord, 15, 239.

C
Caius, John, 1, 66, 69.
Calamy, Edmund, 141, 261.
Calverley, C. S., 173.
Camboritum, 2.
Camden Society, 27, 295, 303.
⸺, Charles, Earl, 115.
⸺, John, Marquess, 239.
Campion, W. M., 134.
Carmelites in Cambridge, 8, 131.
Carpenter and Ingelow, work by Messrs, 152.
Caryl, Lynford, 157.
Castle Hill, 2.
Cavendish College, 269.
Cayley, Arthur, 242.
Cecil, Thomas, 261.

Chaderton, William, 132.
⸺, Laurence, 248.
Chafy, William, 257.
Champneys, work by Mr Basil, 274.
Chapman, Benedict, 74.
Chappell (Milton’s tutor), 168.
Chaucer and Clare, 49.
Chedworth, John, 108.
Cheke, Sir John, 112.
Cherry Hinton Church, 150.
Chesterfield, Philip, Earl of, 82.
Christopherson, John, 227.
Churton, W. R., 117.
Cibber, Gabriel, 222.
Cipriani, designs by, 222.
Clare, Elizabeth, Countess of, 49.
Clark, Professor E. C., 81.
Clark, Mr J. W., 242;
referred to, 15, 63, 74, 153, 281.
Clark, John, 81.
Clark, W. G., 242.
Clarke, E. D., 158.
Clarkson, Thomas, 196.
Clayton, Richard, 193.
Clayton and Bell, windows by Messrs, 98, 187.
Clerke, Sir Francis, 254.

Close, Nicholas, 107.
Clough, Miss A. J., 274.
Cockburn, Sir Alexander, 83.
Cockerell, work by C. R., 283, 288.
“Cock-Pit” at Great St Mary’s, 25.
Coke, Lord Chief Justice, 228.
Cole, the antiquary, 26, 303.
Coleridge, S. T., 15, 157.
Collier, Jeremy, 74.
⸺, portraits by Hon. John, 92, 158, 178.
Colton, John, 69.
Colvin, Professor Sidney, 293.
Constance of France, 153.
Cookson, H. W., 41.
Corrie, G. E., 158.
Cosin, John, 39, 73.
Cotes, Roger, 234.
Cotton, Sir Robert, 229.
Cowell, John, 82.
Cowley, Abraham, 232.
Cox, Richard, 110.
Coxe, William, 116.
Cranmer, Thomas, 13, 154.
Crashaw, Richard, 38, 62.
Creighton, Dr Mandell, 253.
Crewe, Nathaniel, Lord, 82.

Croke, Richard, 110.
Cromwell, Oliver, 155, 193, 209, 260.
Crowland Abbey, 3, 205, 226.
Cudworth, Ralph, 51, 114, 171, 249.
Cumberland, Richard, 170.
Cunningham, Dr W., 28.

D
Darwin, C. R., 173.
Davenant, John, 133.
Dawes, Sir William, 141.
Day, George, 109.
Defoe at Stourbridge Fair, 9.
Dewar, Professor James, 41.
Dickinson, portraits by Mr Lowes, 83, 84, 210, 242.
Dillingham, Theophilus, 51.
Disney, Samuel, 289.
Doket, Andrew, 127.
Dominicans in Cambridge, 8, 165, 247.
Donne, John, 228.
Downing, Sir George, 42, 264.
Dowsing the “iconoclast,” 24, 39, 133.
Drinking-horn at Corpus, 88.
Dryden, John, 232.

E

Eachard, John, 140.
Eden, Dr G. R., 64.
Edmund House, 269.
Edward II., 225, 226;
III., 225, 226;
IV., 94, 129, 226;
VI., 79.
Effingham, Lord Howard of, 82.
Elizabeth, Queen, 57, 111, 215, 227, 248.
Ellicott, Dr C. J., 200.
Eltisley, Thomas of, 88.
Ely, Monastery of, 3, 205.
Erasmus, 3, 124, 130, 170, 273.
Essex, James, work of, 29, 33, 94, 123, 124, 163, 185, 211, 222, 223,
225, 246, 257.
Eton College, 106.
Everett’s “On the Cam” referred to, 209, 249.
Extension Movement, 293.

F
Fagius, Paul, 307.
Fairford, windows at, 98.
Falkland, Lucius, Viscount, 193.
Farmer, Richard, 10, 212.
Farrar, Dr F. W., 243.
Fawcett, Mr W. M., work by, 77, 124, 152.

Felton, Nicholas, 61.
Ferrar, Nicholas, 50, 51, 206.
Ferrers, Dr N. M., 75.
Fisher, John, Cardinal, 13, 129, 130, 165, 167, 190, 225.
⸺, Rev. Osmond, 159.
Fitzwilliam Hall, 270.
Fletcher, Giles, sen., 113.
⸺, ⸺, jun., 89.
⸺, Richard, 89.
Foster, Professor Michael, 242.
Fox, Edward, 109.
Foxe, Richard, 12, 59, 60, 80, 106.
Franciscans in Cambridge, 8, 259.
French, William, 158.
Frere, J. H., 74.
⸺, Serjeant, 265.
⸺, Mrs Serjeant, 10.
Frost, Henry, 189.
Fuller, Thomas, 132;
quoted, 58, 130, 132, 136, 167, 229, 248.
Furse, portraits by Mr C. W., 221, 267.
Fust, Sir H. J., 83, 303.

G
Gage, William, 114.

Gainsborough, portraits by, 64, 239, 245.
Gale, Roger, 238.
Gardiner, Stephen, 79, 80, 109.
Garret Hostel, 223.
Geldart, T. C., 83.
Gell, the antiquary, 253.
George I., 281, 284;
II., 284;
IV., 223.
Gheast, Edmund, 118.
Gibbons, Grinling, carving by 215, 222.
Gibbs, work by James, 102, 282, 285.
Gilds in Cambridge, 2, 21, 87.
Girton Church, 273.
Gisborne, Francis, 33.
Gladstone, Miss Helen, 274.
Gloucester, Prince W. F., Duke of, 239.
Goade, Roger, 112.
Goldcorne, John, 87.
“Golgotha,” 26.
Gonville, Edmund, 69.
Gooch, Sir Thomas, 74.
Goodwin, Harvey, 75.
Gostlin, John, 72, 140.
Gower, Humphrey, 195.
Grafton, G. H., Duke of, 239.

Granby, Charles, Marquess of, 239.
Grantchester, 2.
Gray, Thomas, 40, 63.
Grayson and Ould, work by Messrs, 77.
Grenville, Hon. G. N., 209.
Gresham, Sir Thomas, 72.
Grindal, Edmund, 60.
Grumbold, Robert, 23, 46.
Gunning, Peter, 51, 90, 193.

H
Hacket, John, 223, 231.
Haddon, Walter, 79, 113.
Halifax, Charles, Earl of, 234.
⸺, Samuel, 82.
Hall, Edward, 110.
⸺, Joseph, 251.
Hallam, A. H., 241.
Hansom, work by Messrs, 301.
Harcourt, Sir William, 243.
Hardman, glass by Messrs, 127, 150.
Hare, Ralph, 178.
Harlow, portraits by, 64, 133.
Harmer, Dr J. R., 92.
Harrington, Sir John, 259.
Harris, organ by Renatus, 101.

Harsnet, Samuel, 61.
Hartstrong, John, 73.
Harvard, John, 249.
Harvey, William, 72.
Harwood, Sir Busick, 253.
Have, work by Theodore, 67.
Hawksmoor, work by Nicholas, 245.
Heere, Lucas van, portraits attributed to, 177, 206, 227.
Henry VI., 58, 93, 166, 205;
VII., 94, 108;
VIII., 109, 130, 190, 205, 212, 225, 259, 307.
Henslow, Professor, 173.
Herbert, George, 133, 230.
Herkomer, portraits by Professor, 64, 84, 118, 199, 218, 221, 242.
Herring, Thomas, 91.
Hervey, Henry, 80.
Hicks, Dr J. W., 261.
Hill, organ by, 188.
⸺, Dr Alexander, 265.
Hills, John, 140.
Hinchliffe, John, 238.
Histon Church, 187.
Hoadly, Benjamin, 141, 250.
Hobson the carrier, 169.
Hodgson, William, 41.
Holbech, Ralph of, 35.

⸺, Thomas, 250.
Holbrook, John, 36.
Holiday, windows by Mr Henry, 216.
Holles of the Hyde, 260.
Holme, Richard, 279.
Hope, A. J. B., 224.
Horobin, Mr J. C., 270.
Hospital of St John, 5, 189.
Hudson, portraits by, 232, 237.
Hughes, Professor M’Kenny, 52.
Humphry, Sir George, 265.
Hurd, Richard, 253.
Hutton, Matthew, 60, 61, 112, 228.
Hyde, Thomas, 116.

J
Jackson, Dr Henry, 242.
⸺, John, 207.
James I., 50, 155.
⸺, Dr M. R., 292.
Jebb, Prof. R. C., 242, 287.
Jeffreys, Judge, 73.
Jegon, John, 89.
⸺, Thomas, 90.
Jenkin, Robert, 196.
Jones, Inigo, 164.

⸺, William, 261.
Jortin, John, 156.
Jowett, John, 28, 83.

K
Kaye, John, 172.
Kelvin, Lord, 16, 41.
Kempe, windows by Mr C. E., 101, 127, 297, 298, 306.
Kennedy, B. H., 199.
⸺, Miss M. G., 274.
Kent, Henry, Earl of, 259.
Key, Dr, of Oxford, 71.
King, Edward, 169.
⸺, Oliver, 108.
Kingsley, Charles, 16, 210.
Kneller, portrait by, 234.

L
Lamb, John, 91.
Lancaster, Henry, Duke of, 87.
Landbeach Church, 149.
Laney, Benjamin, 62.
Latham, Dr H., 84.
⸺, P. W., 265.
Latimer, Hugh, 49, 167.
Law, Edmund, 40.

⸺, William, 141, 245, 250.
Lawrence, portraits by, 239.
Leaver, Thomas, 191.
Legge, Thomas, 68, 72.
Leland, John, 167.
Lely, portraits by, 156, 245, 252.
L’Estrange, Sir Roger, 261.
Lightfoot, John, 141.
⸺, Joseph B., 242.
Linwood, William, 72.
Liverpool, Robert, Earl of, 172.
Lloyd, Sir Nathaniel, 76, 82.
Locke, John, 233.
Loggan’s Cantabrigia Illustrata, 42, 67, 68, 135.
Long, Roger, 63.
Lonsdale, portrait by, 239.
Love, Richard, 90.
Luard, Dr H. R., 27.
Luck, work by Mr C. S., 269.
Luckock, Dr H. M., 306.
Lumley, Marmaduke, 79.
Lupton, Roger, 118.
Lynford, Thomas, 160.
Lyttelton, Hon. Arthur, 267.
Lytton, Edward, Lord, 84.

M
Mackenzie, C. F., 75.
Maclagan, Dr W. D., 41.
Madingley Hall, 282.
Maine, Sir Henry, 83.
Maitland, Professor F. W., 265.
Malcolm IV. of Scotland, 153.
Maltby, Edward, 62.
Mansel, W. L., 238.
Mansfield, William, Earl, 83.
Margaret, the Lady, 12, 166, 177, 189.
Margaret of Anjou, 128.
Marlowe, Christopher, 89.
Marsh, Francis, 73.
⸺, Herbert, 196.
Martyn, Henry, 198.
Mary, Queen, 70, 80, 212, 215, 227, 307.
Mason, William, 64.
Maurice, F. D., 16.
Maw, Leonard, 40.
Mawson, Matthias, 91.
Maxwell, J. C., 242.
Mayor, J. E. B., 194, 196, 200.
Mede, Henry, 170.
Mengs, picture by Raphael, 188.
Merivale, Charles, 199.

Merton, Walter de, 34, 35.
Mesman, Daniel, 291.
Mey, William, 131.
Middleton, Conyers, 238.
⸺, J. H., 292.
Mildenhall, Roger of, 35.
Mildmay, Sir Walter, 22, 247.
Millington, William, 107.
Milne, Serjeant, 236.
Milner, Isaac, 133.
Milton, 13, 157, 168.
Montagu, James, 259.
Montague, Hon. John, 235.
Moore, John, 237, 281.
More, Henry, 171.
Morgan, Dr H. A., 158.
Morris, windows by William, 34, 150, 306.
Morton, Thomas, 193.
Moule, Dr H. C. G., 268.
Mowse, Walter, 79.
Mulcaster, Richard, 111.
Museums, Fitzwilliam, 287;
Woodwardian, 285.

N
Name of Jesus, devotion of, 166.

Naunton, Sir Robert, 81.
Neile, Richard, 193.
Nevile, Thomas, 178, 192, 206, 211, 215, etc.
Neville, Hon. Latimer, 209.
Newcastle, Thomas Holles, Duke of, 52.
Newcome, John, 196.
Newton, Sir Isaac, 15, 123, 226, 233.
⸺, Professor A., 210.
Nollekens, sculpture by, 83, 286.
Norfolk, Thomas, Duke of, 206.
Norman and Beard, organ by Messrs, 136.
North, Hon. John, 235.
Northumberland, John, Duke of, 139.

O
Oates, Titus, 73.
Okes, Richard, 118.
Opie, portraits by, 158, 239.
Orchardson, portrait by Mr W. Q., 41.
Otley, Adam, 81.
Oughtred, William, 114.
Ouless, portraits by Mr W. W., 64, 173, 199.
Overall, John, 140.
Oxenden, George, 81.

P

Paley, William, 172.
Palmer, E. H., 178, 199.
Palmerston, Henry John, Viscount, 198.
Parker, Matthew, 24, 88, 228.
Parr, Samuel, 196, 252.
Patrick, Simon, 133, 142.
Pattrick, Francis, 210.
Pearce, William, 157.
Pearson, John, 118, 156, 231;
work by J. L., 258, 305.
Peckard, Peter, 209.
Peile, Dr John, 173.
Pembroke, Marie, Countess of, 57.
Penrose, work by Mr F. C., 189.
Pepys, Samuel, 207.
Perceval, Spencer, 239.
Percy, Thomas, 252.
Perne, Andrew, 29, 36, 111.
Perowne family, 91.
Perse, Stephen, 67.
⸺ School, 11, 72, 288, 292.
Peterborough, monastery of, 3.
Petty Cury, 7.
Philpott, Henry, 142.
Pickersgill, portraits by, 178, 197, 209.
Pilkington, James and Leonard, 172.

Pitt, William, 64, 286.
⸺ Press, 286.
Platonists, Cambridge, 13, 163, 170, 245.
Porson, Richard, 239.
Powell, windows by, 28, 301.
Powis, Lord, 188.
Prest, Edward, 158.
“Prevaricator,” 25.
Prince, John, 74.
⸺ Consort, 289.
Prior, Matthew, 182, 189, 195.
Pritchard, Charles, 199.
Procter, Joseph, 142.
Pythagoras, school of, 277.

Q
Quarles, Francis, 171.

R
Radwinter, William of, 49.
Ragland, Thomas, 92.
Rainbow, Edward, 206.
Ramsey Abbey, 3, 205.
Ray, John, 141, 238.
Redman, John, 227.
Reynolds, portraits by Sir Joshua, 64, 74, 157, 239.

Reynolds, Richard, 81.
Richard III., 129.
Richardson, John, 38.
⸺, William, 252.
Richmond, portraits by Sir W. B., 242, 272, 291.
Rickingale, John, 69.
Rickman, work by, 182, 185.
Ridley Hall, 268.
⸺, Nicholas, 60.
Ritz, portraits by Valentine, 235.
Robinson, Dr C. K., 142.
⸺, Prof. J. A., 173.
Rogers, the martyr, 60.
Roman roads, 1.
Romer, Mr Justice, 83.
Romney, portraits by, 239, 245, 262.
Rotherham, Thomas, 53, 58, 107, 278.
Roubiliac, sculpture by, see Chapter XVI., passim.
Rougham, William de, 69.
Routh, Dr E. J., 41.
Ruggle, George, 10, 50.
Rustat, Tobias, 156.
Ryle, Dr H. E., 134.
Rymer, Thomas, 26.
Rysbrack, work by, 286.

S
Salvin, work by, 68, 77, 224, 292, 303.
Sampson, Richard, 80.
Sancroft, William, 245, 247, 249, 251.
Sandars, Samuel, 28.
Sandys, Edwin, 136.
Scott, work by Sir Gilbert, 27, 104, 186, 284, 298;
by Mr G. G., 33, 57, 278, 285, 292.
⸺, Mr R. F., 194.
Seaman, Lazarus, 40.
Searle, Dr C. E., 64.
Sedgwick, Adam, 240.
Selwyn College, 266.
Senate House, 285.
Shadwell, Thomas, 73.
Shafto, Mr J. D., 158.
Shannon, portraits by Mr J. J., 274.
Shaxton, Nicholas, 72.
Sherlock, Thomas, 142.
Shorton, Robert, 191.
Shrewsbury, Mary, Countess of, 178.
Sibbes, Richard, 140.
Siborch, John, 286.
Sidgwick, Professor H., 242, 272.
⸺, Mrs, 274.
Simeon, Charles, 16, 117, 301.

Simpson, Sir E., 77, 82.
Skeat, Professor W. W., 173.
Skippe, John, 69.
Smith, Mr Charles, 261.
⸺, John, 74.
⸺, Mr J. Hamblin, 298.
⸺, Robert, 238.
⸺, organs by Father, 27, 163, 215.
Smythies, C. A., 243.
Somerset, Charles, Duke of, 286.
Spelman, Sir Henry, 229.
Spencer, John, 90.
Spenser, Edmund, 62.
Staunton, Hervé de, 225, 307.
Stephen, J. K., 118.
Sterne, Laurence, 155.
⸺, Richard, 91, 144, 155.
Stevenson, work by Mr J. J., 165.
Still, John, 229.
Stillingfleet, Edward, 194.
Stourbridge, 9, 10.
Strafford, Thomas, Earl of, 193.
Stratford de Redcliffe, Lord, 118.
Stretton, Robert de, 79.
Strype, John, 141.

Sumner, J. B., 116.
Sussex, Frances, Lady, 258.
⸺, Prince Frederick, Duke of, 239.
Sylvester, J. J., 199.
Symons, work by Ralph, 178, 185, 217, 221, 244, 252, 254.

T
Taylor, Dr Charles, 200.
⸺, Jeremy, 72.
Templars in Cambridge, 301, 308.
Temple, Sir William, 115, 252.
Tenison, Thomas, 90.
Tennyson, Alfred, Lord, 16, 240.
Thackeray, W. M., 241.
Thaxted, Walter of, 49.
Thirlby, Thomas, 80.
Thompson, W. H., 242.
Thorney Abbey, 88.
Thorwaldsen, statue by, 222.
Thurlow, Lord Chancellor, 75.
Tillotson, John, 51.
Torry, Rev. A. F., 194.
Townshend, Charles, Viscount, 116.
Troyes, windows at, 98.
Tuckney, Anthony, 193.
Turner, Francis, 194.

⸺, Thomas, 38.
Turton, Thomas, 142.
Tusser, Thomas, 84.

V
Vandlebury Camp, 1.
Vandyck, portraits by, 188.
Villiers, Hon. C. P., 200.

W
Wailes, glass by, 303.
Walden Abbey, 205.
Wallace, work by Mr W., 269.
Waller, Edmund, 114.
Wallis, Dr F., 75.
Walpole, Sir Robert, 103.
⸺, Horace, 115.
Walsingham, Alan de, 297.
⸺, Sir Francis, 113.
Ward, Samuel, 249.
⸺, Seth, 172.
Warham, William, 130.
Water-supply of Cambridge, 37.
Waterhouse, work by Mr, 54, 59, 66, 68, 152.
Waterland, Daniel, 209.
Watts, portraits by Mr G. F., 83, 218, 240, 291.

Waynflete, William of, 12, 106.
Wesley, Samuel, 91.
West, Nicholas, 108.
Westcott, Dr B. F., 242.
Whewell, William, 224, 241.
Whichcot, Benjamin, 113, 248.
Whiston, William, 52.
Whitaker, William, 192.
White, Francis, 39, 73.
⸺, H. Kirke, 197, 306.
Whitgift, John, 38, 61, 228.
Whittlesea, William of, 35.
Whood, portraits by Isaac, 228, 229, 231.
Wickham, William, 118.
Wilberforce, William, 196.
Wilkins, James, 263.
⸺, John, 231, 234.
⸺, work of William, 74, 86, 91, 103, 104, 223.
Wilkinson, Thomas, 129.
⸺, Dr T. E., 158.
Willement, glass by, 303.
Williams, George, 117.
⸺, John, 178, 181.
Willoughby the naturalist, 232.
Wilmot, Sir J. Eardley, 82.

Wilson, portraits by Benjamin, 63, 64.
⸺, Thomas, 261.
Wisbech, Richard of, 35.
Wishart, George, 89.
Wood, James, 188.
Woodlark, Robert, 108, 136.
Woolner, statues by Thomas, 216, 240, 242.
Wordsworth, Christopher, 240.
⸺, William, 15, 157, 169, 178, 197.
Wrangham, Archdeacon, 83.
Wray, Sir Christopher, 206.
Wren, Sir Christopher, 54, 221, 245.
⸺, Matthew, 30, 39, 53, 62.
Wright, Mr W. A., 242.
Wyatt, Sir M. Digby, 293.
Wyattville, work by Sir Jeffrey, 257.
Wydvil, Queen Elizabeth, 129.
Wylson, Thomas, 113.

Y
Yonge, Philip, 157.

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