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
One 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.
* * * * *
Corpus 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
Henry 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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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.