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.
* * * * *
In 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
[Illustration: Queens’]
Queens’ 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.
[Illustration: The Bridge
Queens’ College]