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
[Illustration: Clare College]
Loggan, 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.
[Illustration: Clare Bridge]
* * * * *
The 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
Modern 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.
[Illustration: 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.