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.
* * * * *
John 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
[Illustration: Christ’s College]
Christ’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.
* * * * *
For 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!