contemplative scholars and philosophers who, in his time, were the
ruling influence in the college, and now lie beneath the chapel floor.
The course of the reformed and Puritan doctrines was largely determined
by the study of Platonic philosophy, just as the Aristotelian system
had allied itself to Catholic theology. Platonism in Cambridge is the
result of two opposing forces: on the positive side, the teaching of
Erasmus; on the negative side, the publication of Hobbes’ _Leviathan_
in 1651. This book received many reputations from Cambridge men; two of
the best known are the work of Dr Bramhall of Sidney, Bishop of Derry
and afterwards Primate of Ireland, and of Dr Cumberland of Magdalene,
the painful Bishop of Peterborough. But the most effective opposition
to Hobbes’ materialistic and mathematical science came from Christ’s.
The first of the Cambridge Platonists was the meditative Mede, who died
in 1638. He was a fellow of the college in Milton’s time, and spent
his days in wandering about the college backs and fields, absorbed in
mystical speculation, of which the eventual outcome was his work on the
Apocalypse. In the evening, members of the college would resort to his
rooms, and he would ask them “_Quid dubitas?_ What doubts have you met in
your studies to-day?” and, having heard their answers, would set their
minds at rest and dismiss them with prayer. But Mede was scarcely so
remarkable as Henry More, the author of the _Mystery of Godliness_ and
other books, who devoted his life at Cambridge to Platonic speculations,
and even extended his enquiries to the Neo-Platonic writers and the
Hebrew Cabala. Ralph Cudworth* was three years his junior, and survived
him one year. This man, the greatest of the company, was Master of
Clare for some time, and, in 1654, became Master of Christ’s, where he
remained, unmoved by the Restoration, till his death in 1688. He was the
most powerful of Hobbes’ adversaries, and his _True Intellectual System
of the Universe_, published in 1678, is a fairly convincing counterblast
to the _Leviathan_. However, Cudworth was rather a talented pedant than
a genius: he lessened the value of his work by recondite allusions, and
his critical capacity was impaired by prejudice. But, in that age of
laborious theology, Cudworth’s book deserves a position next to, although
far below, Leighton’s commentary on St Peter.
It is a somewhat melancholy fact that the only other poet of whom
Christ’s can boast besides Milton is that master of tortured conceits,
Francis Quarles. Curiously enough, the portrait, probably of Quarles, in
the Combination Room, which bears the motto “Nec ingratus nec inutilis
videar vixisse” was at one time supposed to be that of Milton. But the
college has had eminent students in other departments. Dr Seth Ward,*
a little younger than Milton, is known as the Bishop of Salisbury
during the time of James II. and the Revolution. In 1766, at the age
of twenty-three, William Paley* was elected a fellow, and remained at
Cambridge for ten years. Paley’s early life is said to have been careless
and riotous. One morning, however, when lying late in bed, a friend and
boon-companion came into his room, and treated him to what is sometimes
known as a “straight talk.” This admonition awakened Paley’s conscience,
and led in time to the publication of the famous _Evidences of
Christianity_ and to the Archdeaconry of Carlisle. In all probability, no
historical name is so often on the undergraduate’s lips—not always with
blessings—as the name of this reclaimed ne’er-do-weel. The _Evidences_,
as is well known, form part of the subjects for the Previous Examination
or Little-Go, and have in this capacity given birth to an especial
department of literature in the shape of “Paley Sheets” and other
_précis_ of the heavy work. A less logical but more human theologian was
John Kaye,* master from 1814 to 1830, and Bishop successively of Bristol
and Lincoln.
If, among statesmen, Christ’s can put forward Lord Liverpool, famous for
his interminable ministry of more than twenty years, she has had in
science, a son who is as famous in his branch of study as Milton is in
poetry. This was Charles Robert Darwin (* Ouless) who came up to Christ’s
in the twenties with the intention of taking holy orders. At Cambridge,
however, he found such opportunities for research that he abandoned his
design, and, at the recommendation of Professor Henslow, who then held
the botanical chair, went out as naturalist to the _Beagle_. This was the
beginning of his scientific career and of the revolution in biological
science which he effected. A tablet with his profile in relief has been
placed in the room occupied by him, which is at present occupied by the
Norrisian Professor of Divinity, Dr Armitage Robinson. To-day Christ’s
not only claims as its master Dr John Peile, the eminent classical
philologist, but the greatest of living scholars who have devoted
themselves to the study of their own language—the editor of Langland
and Chaucer, Professor Skeat. And Cambridge men will always remember
with pleasure that Christ’s was the college of the most pleasant of all
English versifiers, Charles Stuart Calverley (then Blayds) who not only,
by his light verses, added to the gaiety of the nation, but, by his
translation of Theocritus, increased the range of English poetry.
XIV
ST JOHN’S COLLEGE
[Illustration: Sᵗ. John’s]
The first court of St John’s is almost as composite as the Great Court of
Trinity, and the want of harmony between its parts is rather painfully
evident. The chapel, however, is the only important extension of the
original plan as carried out by the Lady Margaret’s executors, and
the rest of the court survives with certain changes. The gateway of
the college is one of the gate-towers so characteristic of Cambridge,
and is perhaps the most beautiful of all. One of the great advantages
of St John’s is that it is built of red brick, which, with time, has
assumed a mellow appearance; and thus it is, in certain respects, one
of the most picturesque colleges in the University. The court and tower
belong to 1520. Above the doorway, on the street side, are the arms of
Lady Margaret, supported by the Beaufort antelopes, on a ground in
which the daisy, the foundress’ punning emblem, occurs very lavishly.
Although much obliterated by time, this is still a very good piece of
heraldic sculpture. Other familiar signs, which the least archæological
undergraduate learns to recognise, are the Tudor rose and Beaufort
portcullis. Above this elaborate armorial display is a figure of St
John the Evangelist, added in 1662. Lady Margaret’s statue is to be
found in an ugly niche over the entrance to the Hall screens; it is in a
pseudo-classical taste, and exaggerates her pious emaciation of feature.
The Hall has been altered a good deal, but it is an interesting
apartment, long, dark and narrow, like a conventual refectory. Its
darkness is due partly to the fine wainscoting, which is of the
linen-pattern, partly to the deep colours of the heraldic windows, whose
interest is historical rather than artistic. The fresco of the upper part
is not very successful. At the end of the hall is a curious portrait of
the foundress, in the manner of Lucas van Heere, which bears comparison
with her picture in Christ’s. She is supported by full-length portraits
of Archbishop Williams and Ralph Hare, benefactors to the college. One of
the most interesting pictures is the well-known portrait of Wordsworth
by Pickersgill; and the modern portrait of Professor Palmer in full Arab
attire (John Collier) usually attracts comment. St John’s Hall is not
rich in portraits, a deficiency which is remedied by the collection at
the Lodge.
[Illustration: Sᵗ. John’s]
No other college unfolds its architectural history in so leisurely a
way as St John’s. We pass from the first to the second court, from 1520
to 1598. In the latter year, Ralph Symons, who was supplying Dr Nevile
at Trinity with designs, began to build this beautiful quadrangle.
Mary Cavendish, Countess of Shrewsbury, is the benefactress to whom
the college is indebted, and her statue occupies the niche over the
gate-tower between this and the third court. Some will have it that this
is the best piece of contemporary building in Cambridge, and it certainly
has a peculiar charm, due to its studious, sober air. The sole ornaments
of this gabled enclosure are the two charming oriels in the centre of
the north and south side, and the gate-tower, which is not unlike the
similar tower at Hampton Court. Along the first floor of the north side
of the court runs the long gallery, once a part of the Master’s Lodge,
but now the Combination Room. It is the best Combination Room in Oxford
or Cambridge. At present it is divided into two parts by a wainscoting,
but this hinders the general effect very little. The plastered ceiling
is very richly ornamented with pendants and formal arabesques, and has
much in common with other splendid ceilings of the same date. When the
doors of the inner room and of the library beyond are both open, an
incomparable vista is obtained, and the two apartments are transformed
into a single gallery.
As a matter of fact, a landing, approached from the second court by
a picturesque oak staircase, separates the Combination Room from the
Library, which occupies the whole north side of the somewhat gloomy third
court. Over the door are the arms of Lord Keeper Williams, impaled on the
coat of his see of Lincoln. This famous prelate contributed entirely to
its erection, and his initials and the date 1624 are lettered in white
stone outside the western oriel. It was completed in 1628, and remains
unaltered, a very charming specimen of Italian Gothic. Its interior,
with its high timber roof and fine bookcases, is the _beau idéal_ of a
library interior. There are two stories: the upper contains the valuable
collection of ancient books and the bequests of various benefactors
such as Matthew Prior, the lower is devoted to more modern books. The
rest of the court was not built till 1669, and is therefore a little
later than the buildings at Clare, with which it has some affinity. Its
western gateway and cloister form an excellent termination to the long
perspective of St John’s from the outer street. And the view of the court
and library from the river is too well known to need remark.
[Illustration: Bridges of Sᵗ. John’s]
Beyond the third court we are on modern ground. Mr Rickman’s Bridge of
Sighs is the beginning of the long cloister which forms one side of the
New Court. The view from the bridge, including Ralph Symons’ lovely
Kitchen Bridge and the sweep of the Cam as it rounds the corner opposite
Trinity Library, is more beautiful than the bridge itself; but the
bridge, in its turn, is the most meritorious part of this immense court,
in itself a college. It was built from Mr Rickman’s designs between 1827
and 1831, and is a proof of the common criticism that its architect’s
theory was vastly superior to his practice. The extremely ornate
cloister, with its traceried openings and vast central gateway, has no
_raison d’être_, and the rest of the court is merely a huge barrack with
a pretentious central staircase. From certain parts of the “Backs,”
when the shallow detail is sufficiently screened by trees, it forms an
effective background to the prospect; but, near at hand, its effect is
bare and ponderous.
All modern changes in the original buildings are to be found in the first
court. In the original plan the Master’s Lodge adjoined the Hall on the
south, and the Chapel on the north, and filled up an angle between them.
The court existed thus till 1774, when Essex came here, as to other
colleges, and faced the south side with the present front, which might
be creditable in Harley Street or Cavendish Square, but is merely ugly
in a college. Further, in the early sixties, the College resolved to
build a new chapel. The old one, whose site is marked by the slabs in the
grass south of the existing chapel, was never a very remarkable building
and was quite inadequate. So, in 1863, Sir Gilbert Scott came, built the
chapel, and remodelled the court. The Master’s Lodge was taken down,
the Hall was lengthened by two bays, one of which is a new oriel, the
staircase and lobby leading to the Combination Room were made, and the
new Lodge was built on the ground north of the Library. Scott’s immense
chapel is, no doubt, too large for its purpose, and the heavy tower is
painfully out of proportion to the rest, especially when seen from the
west end. The style is typical of the architect’s genius for imitation.
He knew two buildings by heart, the Sainte Chapelle and the Angel Choir
at Lincoln, and he put them into all his designs with a fatal formality.
The exterior of St John’s Chapel is somewhat tedious, and every detail is
just a little too prominent—the statues in the buttresses, for example.
On the whole, Scott’s chapel at Exeter College, Oxford, is much better.
But inside the building is very striking, especially the transeptal
antechapel, which, in spite of the bad glass at the north end, recalls
the antechapel of New College at Oxford. The tower inside is open to the
first storey, and in the higher window there are good fragments of old
glass. The glass in the inner chapel and in the great west window is
by Clayton and Bell. Lord Powis, High Steward of the University at the
time, gave the windows in the apse, and the rest are in memory of friends
and benefactors of the college. The chapel was consecrated in 1869 by
Dr Harold Browne, then Bishop of Ely. Some of the old stalls from the
original chapel, with their miserere seats, have been kept; and the fine
Early English piscina which belonged to the chapel of St John’s Hospital
has been incorporated in the arcading of the chancel. It belongs to a
local class which includes the piscina at Jesus Chapel and the piscinae
in the transepts at Histon, three miles away. Another relic is the altar
tomb of Hugh Ashton, Archdeacon of York, who was one of the foundress’
executors and died in 1522. The upper portion of the monument is canopied
and richly coloured; the lower part is open and contains the “cadaver,”
which was fashionable with ecclesiastics of the day. Ashton’s rebus,
an ash growing out of a tun, appears in various parts of the base and
canopy. In the antechapel also are Baily’s statue of Dr Wood, Master of
St John’s and Dean of Ely, and the old altar-piece by Raphael Mengs.
Other objects of interest are the paintings on the roof, a procession
of illustrious Churchmen and Churchwomen of every age leading up to the
figure of Our Lord in glory, which occupies the centre panel of the
roof in the apse; the fine organ by Messrs Hill; and the marbles in the
chancel. The chapel is 172 feet long and 63 feet high to the inner roof.
The pitch of the outer roof is 80 feet, and the tower rises to 140 feet.
The Master’s Lodge is a comfortable building, and contains a number of
pictures, including two portraits of Charles I. and Henrietta Maria by
Vandyck, and a large portrait of Matthew Prior (Rigaud) in his official
robes. Since then, the only addition of structural importance to this
interesting college has been the wing known as the Chapel Court, which
runs at right angles to the main building opposite the west door of
the chapel. This was added in 1884, by Mr F. C. Penrose, and is of red
brick with white stone dressings and with a louvre in the centre. The
college grounds have been laid out from time to time, and, with their
winding walks and beautiful Fellow’s Garden, are the most interesting and
romantic of all the gardens near the river.
* * * * *
In founding St John’s College, Lady Margaret Beaufort followed the
precedent of Bishop Alcock. It is curious to observe how the most fervent
Catholics of the Renaissance era subordinated monasticism to the revived
learning and disestablished religious houses on merely nominal pretexts.
The close likeness between the document which explains the dissolution
of St Rhadegund’s Nunnery and that which excused the abolition of St
John’s Hospital detracts from the value of the charges they contain and
leads us to believe that they are merely repetitions of a recognised
form. St John’s Hospital was a small religious alms-house which had
been founded in 1135 by one Henry Frost, and was under the management
of Black Canons. It had a certain importance as being the first site of
Hugh de Balsham’s collegiate scheme. He grafted his scholars upon the
monastic stock, but his plan was anything but a success, and he removed
his _protégés_ to Peterhouse. The hospital was not a very flourishing
affair, and, whether the charges of immorality were true or not, there
was sufficient excuse for its dissolution in the fact that in 1509 it
contained only two brethren. The Lady Margaret, in that same year, the
year of her own and her son’s death, obtained leave to suppress it and
found a college on its site. She had been prompted to this work by her
confessor and faithful adviser, John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, himself
a man of great distinction in the University, a friend of learned men
and a patron of study. And, although the college is very justly proud of
its royal foundress and shares her coat-of-arms with Christ’s College,
the active part of the work was carried out by Fisher as her executor.
The Charter of foundation was granted by Henry VIII. in 1511, and Fisher
himself consecrated the Chapel in 1516. It follows that, although Fisher
was a member of Queens’ College, his name is connected almost entirely
with St John’s. This close relation of one man to two colleges is clearly
manifested by the likeness which those parts of St John’s built by
Fisher’s instrumentality bear to parts of Queens’ College.
St John’s College was the last and greatest of the Lady Margaret’s
works. When we think of the benefits which she conferred on Oxford and
Cambridge, her noble provisions for the theological schools of both
Universities, and her two foundations in Cambridge, we can only echo
the words of the funeral sermon preached by Fisher in her honour, that
the “students of both Universities, to whom she was as a mother … for
her death had cause of weeping.” Very few colleges have so tender an
attachment to a founder’s memory as that which St John’s has for Lady
Margaret’s; there are very few colleges which are so haunted, as it were,
by their founder’s spirit. And the history of St John’s is a record
worthy of the Lady Margaret. Although, in after years, it was a little
overshadowed by the greater glory of Trinity, it kept the second place
against all competitors, and its roll of illustrious names is almost as
crowded as that of Trinity itself.
The first master was Robert Shorton, who continued in the college for
five years, after which time he became Master of Pembroke. His portrait
is to be found among the great collection in the Master’s Lodge. The
early masters of the college followed one another very rapidly; in fact,
between 1511 and 1612 we find no less than seventeen names, an almost
unique instance of quick succession. Under the Tudors, too, the college
history is not profoundly interesting. It is evident that, during the
reign of Edward VI., the fashionable Genevan doctrines became popular in
the college. Thomas Leaver, master in 1551, was a supporter of the new
religion, and was, of course, ejected by Mary. However, with Elizabeth’s
reign the Puritan spirit returned in double force. The two Pilkingtons,
who occupied the mastership in succession, introduced their Genevan
and German friends to the Universities, and sought to model University
life upon the system followed by the foreign Calvinists. It is worthy
of remark that while, during this period, Trinity was producing Bacon,
St John’s had already produced the great Burghley, the first of her
illustrious sons, and perhaps the most illustrious of them all. St John’s
became for many years the hereditary college of the Cecil family. The
connection between the college and both branches of that great house is
still kept up in the prize exercise known as the “Burghley Verses,” one
copy of which is sent annually to Hatfield and another to Burghley.[7]
The accession of noble families to the college and the consequent growth
of court influence probably weaned the foundation from its Puritanism.
Dr Whitaker* was the last of the Genevan School. He was a married man,
and kept up an establishment for his wife in the town. The college
prospered exceedingly in his time. These were the days of Dr Nevile
of Trinity, when Cambridge received her most beautiful buildings.
Whitaker’s successor, Dr Richard Clayton, who ruled from 1595 to 1612,
had the felicity of seeing the second court built under his auspices.
Among the fellows at this time were Richard Neile,* and Thomas Morton,*
who, as Archbishop of York and Bishop of Durham, were great benefactors
to the college. And, with the reign of James I., the college began
to distinguish itself, like St John the Baptist’s College at Oxford,
as a Royalist institution. Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford,* the
great Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Lucius Cary, Viscount Falkland,*
the blameless hero of the Cavalier party, are the celebrities of the
first half of the seventeenth century. In William Beale,* master from
1633 to 1644, the King had an enthusiastic supporter. In his time the
college plate was melted down, and many valuable pieces were sacrificed.
The plate was sent across country to Charles, who was then at York or
Nottingham, and the passage was so well contrived that the convoy escaped
the ambush set by Oliver Cromwell. Dr Beale was less happy, for Cromwell,
in a fury, marched upon Cambridge, and took him prisoner while he was at
his prayers in chapel. In company with Dr Martin of Queens’ and Dr Sterne
of Jesus, he was taken off to London and imprisoned in the Tower. He died
in 1646. During the Commonwealth, the college was ruled by Dr Arrowsmith
and Dr Tuckney, but at the Restoration the famous divine, Dr Peter
Gunning,* became master, having been previously Master of Corpus. He was
made Bishop of Ely in 1670, when he was succeeded by Francis Turner.* In
course of time, Turner succeeded Gunning at Ely. With these prelates we
may couple the name of Edward Stillingfleet,* the well-known Bishop of
Worcester.
Thomas Baker,* the historian of St John’s College, deserves honourable
mention. The treasure which Oxford possesses in Anthony Wood, St John’s
finds in Baker, whose accurate history, quaintly and piously written,
is a mine of information on the subject of Cambridge life during the
seventeenth century. Baker was a Royalist of considerable bias and
a non-juror, in consequence of which he lost his fellowship. He was
careful to describe himself on his title-page as _Socius Ejectus_, and
gloried in the distinction. He died in 1740 at the age of eighty-four.
His devotion to his college, not only to the foundation itself, but
to its remotest benefactors, is a quality unique even in those days
of fidelity to a principle. He set the college an example by which it
has profited. To-day no college in Cambridge is in possession of such
an amount of printed historical matter. Professor Mayor’s monumental
edition of Baker and of the life of Ambrose Bonwicke stand at the head
of the list. Mr Torry’s extremely full and interesting notes on the roll
of Founders and Benefactors are invaluable, while Mr Scott’s “Notes
from the College Records,” which are published from time to time in the
college magazine, form a supplement and commentary to Baker’s history.
Ambrose Bonwicke, whose life is at once an exhortation to the painful
student and a faithful picture of social life at Cambridge, entered St
John’s in 1710, the last year of the mastership of Turner’s successor,
Humphrey Gower. Bonwicke died early, so that the story of his labours
and exertions, phenomenal in a mere boy and impossible in our own age,
has a vivid pathos. From the light which he throws upon college life of
his time, we are led to imagine that, however luxurious it may have been
then, it would now be insupportable, if conducted in the same way. But
then the prime object of university life was study, and athletics and
dinner-parties were considered foreign to the main purpose.