became Bishop of Winchester, where he died in 1618. But, in spite of
this augury, the history of Sidney is the reverse of prelatical. Of
late years, the college has somewhat retrieved its past record, but,
on the whole, its distinction is Puritan. It is, however, a college
whose history finds its centre in one event, and that event is vague and
shadowy. In the college books, under the date April 23rd, 1616, is the
following inscription, “Oliverus Cromwell, Huntingdoniensis, admissus ad
commensum sociorum Aprilis vicesimo sexto; Tutore Magᵒ Ricardo Howlet.”
Few colleges boast such a fellow-commoner. The note which follows,
written in after years by a good Royalist, is worth transcribing: “Hic
fuit grandis ille impostor, carnifex perditissimus, qui, pientissimo
rege Carolo primo nefaria caede sublato, ipsum usurpavit thronum, et
tria regna per quinque ferme annorum spatium, sub protectoris nomine,
indomita tyrannide vexavit.” Vexavit, as Polonius would say, is good. No
language is more abusive than aptly handled Latin! This “big impostor
and most damn’d butcher” stayed at Cambridge till July, 1617, and then,
like many great men, left without taking his degree. His contribution to
the social life of his college has been stigmatised as discreditable,
but this is probably invidious rumour and nothing more. The window of
his room—which, by the way, dates from 1827 or thereabout—is still shown
to the credulous. There is an admirable portrait of him in the hall,
which was presented to the college, with a rather unnecessary parade of
anonymity, by Mr Holles of the Hyde in Essex.
The great name of Cromwell must not, however, suffer us to forget
the names of the good and pious men whom Sidney has nurtured. Dr
Edmund Calamy, the famous Nonconformist divine, was a member of the
college. So was Thomas Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man. So, too, were
Jones of Nayland, the revivalist and hymn-writer, and an even more
famous Evangelical preacher, Thomas Cecil. Sidney had, indeed, a very
conspicuous share in the revival of spiritual life at the end of the last
century. On the other hand, the college produced, by way of an anomaly,
Sir Roger l’Estrange, the Royalist pamphleteer, whose sympathies were
certainly apart from his education. The laborious antiquary, Thomas Rymer
of the _Fœdera_, was also a Sidney man. In our own century it has been
recorded that—
There was a young man of Sid. Sussex
Who stated that w + x
Was the same as xw!
So they said, “We will trouble you
To confine those ideas to Sid. Sussex.”
But any such misconception has been rectified by the present master, Mr
Charles Smith, whose mathematical text-books are classics in their own
branch of literature. And, among living members of the college, we may
notice the present Bishop of Bloemfontein, Dr John Wale Hicks, who is not
only celebrated for his equal skill in medicine and divinity, but, as
tutor of his college and vicar of Little St Mary’s, has had perhaps the
greatest spiritual influence on modern Cambridge life. Although Sidney is
a small college, there is none which is so remarkable for the patriotism
and good-fellowship existing among its undergraduates; and, within very
recent years, it has supplied the University with excellent athletes, and
one of its members has become president of the Union.
XIX
DOWNING COLLEGE
James Wilkins, the builder of Downing, must be distinguished from the
later William Wilkins, the gothic experimentalist. If the second Wilkins
had worked in the manner of the first, we should have missed some
valuable historical relics, but should have gained in other respects.
Downing, with its heavy angularities and immense porticoes, is not a
very great advance on the plans so cherished by Mr James Essex, but it
bears the marks of a good intention, and is an excellently proportioned
building. It was begun in 1807, but has never been finished, and now
simply consists of two parallel ranges running north and south, with a
wide space of lawn between them. Its situation is very remote, but to
this it owes its chief beauty, the lovely park with its fine avenues. The
view northwards from the park, embracing the fellows’ garden, and ending
in the towers of the new Roman Catholic Church, is worth seeing, although
the contrast of the classical college with one of the latest examples of
modern Gothic work is somewhat inharmonious.
* * * * *
Downing is almost the youngest of Cambridge colleges, and its history
is chiefly concerned with its foundation. At Gamlingay, in the only
part of Cambridgeshire that can be called picturesque, there lived from
about 1680 to 1749, a baronet named Sir George Downing. He had been the
victim of a compulsory marriage. At the early age of fifteen, he had
been married to his cousin Mary Forester, who herself was only thirteen.
They never lived together, and in 1717, Sir George made a will by which
he bequeathed his estates to some collateral relatives. This document
contained the provision that, if his heirs died out, the estates were
to be applied to the use of a college which his trustees should found
in Cambridge. He nevertheless outlived the trustees, and, dying in
1749, left his property to his collateral heir, Sir Jacob Downing. Sir
Jacob was married, but died without issue in 1764. His wife retained
the estates, but this gave rise to a long lawsuit, and, at her death,
Chancery pronounced the original will to be valid. The Charter was
granted in 1800, but the buildings were not begun till 1807, and the
college was not in working order till 1821.
Sir George Downing’s design had included a master and sixteen fellows.
In addition—presumably to confer some prestige upon a late foundation—he
had provided for two professorships in connection with the college, the
Downing Professorships of Medicine and of the Laws of England. Although
the influx of undergraduates was at first very small, the valuable law
scholarships attracted many students in course of time. The second
master, Mr Serjeant Frere,* was an eminent lawyer, and is still renowned
as the first of college masters who dispensed their hospitality without
too keen an eye to rigid selection. Dr Annesley, the first master, from
1805 to 1812, was the head of a college which had no corporate existence,
and Mr Frere, for nine years, was in a similar position. Downing has
the misfortune of being in a very remote, although charming situation,
and the number of her undergraduates has never been very large. But her
present society includes the Professor of Law, Dr Maitland; and her
master, Dr Alexander Hill, is a distinguished ornament of the medical
school. And, among the doctors who have been educated at Downing are the
late Sir George Humphrey, Professor Latham, and one of the best known of
living physicians, Professor Bradbury.
XX
SELWYN COLLEGE, ETC.
The memory of George Augustus Selwyn, the great Bishop, first of
Melanesia, afterwards of Lichfield, is honoured in Cambridge by the
latest of all the colleges. Selwyn, one of a famous Cambridge family,
died in 1877; and in 1882, Selwyn College was opened. The object of the
college is that which had, some time before, prompted the foundation
of Keble—the provision of University education at a more moderate rate
than had hitherto been the case. It is conducted on what is known as the
hostel system; that is to say, its members, while enjoying all University
privileges, have all their meals in common, and are supplied with most
necessaries at fixed rates from the college buttery. This is, we may
believe, the simple system out of which great foundations like Trinity
grew; and, since Selwyn began it, one or two other colleges have pursued
it with some success on a voluntary principle. At Selwyn, however, the
hostel life is compulsory; and the college is known officially as Selwyn
Hostel. It has not lived long enough to produce any great sons as yet,
but its record is honourable, and we may expect much from it in the
future.[8] Its buildings, forming two sides of a quadrangle, are of red
brick, and were designed by Sir Arthur Blomfield, who also built the
Master’s Lodge at the east corner of the enclosure. As the essence of
the college’s existence is to provide accommodation for students, the
buildings are devoted to rooms, and the Hall and Chapel were left to
the last. For the first thirteen years of the history of the college,
these necessities of college life were supplied by the low range of
temporary buildings just inside the entrance gate. There, too, for some
time to come the Hall will have to remain, a very simple room, whose only
ornament is the portrait of Mr Arthur Lyttelton, late master and now
vicar of Eccles. This, by Mr C. W. Furse, is a striking example of the
New English school. In 1895, however, one of the wishes of the college
was fulfilled, and the present noble Chapel was erected from Sir Arthur
Blomfield’s design. It stands north of the Master’s Lodge, and is a
very large and lofty building of red brick, with freestone dressings.
The style is a free adaptation of English Perpendicular, the admirable
window tracery being a remarkable feature. The interior is very good,
and the very complete set of stalls, with their grotesque carvings and
modern misereres, would do honour to a medieval collegiate church. Its
consecration by the Bishop of Ely in October, 1895, was one of the most
imposing ceremonies which have been seen of late years in Cambridge. The
late Archbishop of Canterbury and several other prelates assisted at the
function, and the sermon at mid-day was preached by the Archbishop. If
the pious founders of the older colleges had been able to be present,
and had seen the whole college walk in procession round the quadrangle
in the early morning, singing the sixty-eighth psalm, and had assisted
at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist which followed, they would
assuredly have thanked God that the traditions of their Church and of the
University which was its daughter were preserved and cherished by more
modern foundations.
Ridley Hall represents a school of thought somewhat different from that
to which Selwyn owes its being, and is altogether a modern development in
University life. Like Selwyn, it has an Oxford counterpart in Wycliffe
Hall. It was founded in 1879 as a training college for those who, having
already graduated from some college, wish to proceed to Holy Orders.
Under the headship of Doctor Moule, it has already sent out several
distinguished members of the Evangelical party, and has also been of
great service to missionary societies. It has certainly proved itself a
power in modern Cambridge, chiefly through the influence of its eminent
principal; and has encouraged other religious bodies to attempt what is
an accomplished fact in Oxford. The Presbyterian body are now building
themselves a large theological college at the corner of the Madingley
Road. The buildings of Ridley are not unlike those of Selwyn, and the
Renaissance chapel with its picturesque iron turret is a pleasing
object from most points of view. The architect of the older portion was
Mr Charles Luck; the chapel and southern range were designed by Mr W.
Wallace.
After many vicissitudes, Ayerst Hall has at length disappeared. Some
years ago the Rev. W. Ayerst of Caius College established a small college
on the hostel principle, which occupied the buildings now known as Queen
Anne’s Terrace, between Parker’s Piece and the University Cricket Ground.
In 1894 his students vacated these buildings for a new range between
the Huntingdon and Madingley Roads, and their original home is now the
offices of the University Correspondence College. Rather less than three
years later, the venture was abandoned, and the new buildings were
purchased for a colony of Benedictines. Since the building of the great
church of Our Lady of the Assumption and the English Martyrs, which is
so conspicuous a feature from the railway, the influx of Roman Catholic
students has been much greater. In 1896 a Roman Catholic chaplaincy was
founded in both Universities. The direct result of this measure was the
purchase of Ayerst Hall and the establishment of a theological school for
Roman Catholic undergraduates. This scheme is in its infancy, and its
future remains to be seen. The new hostel is known as Edmund House.
Another abortive attempt was Cavendish College, founded in 1882, which
took its name and coat-of-arms from the late Duke of Devonshire. By an
irony of fate, it is the only collegiate building which the passer-by
sees from the train—that is, unless he keeps a sharp lookout for King’s
Chapel. It was, however, a mile from the nearest college, on the furthest
outskirts of the town, and, after a precarious existence, it failed and
was closed in 1891. Between 1891 and 1895 the curious might roam through
its halls unchecked, inspect the deserted library and the singularly
comfortable buildings, and muse on the names of departed occupants
inscribed on the staircases. Some of its students went down; others
joined other colleges. In 1895 it was bought by Mr J. C. Horobin of
Homerton, who transferred to it his training-college for schoolmasters
and schoolmistresses. Its part in University life is not over yet,
but its proud title has been exchanged for the more suburban name of
Homerton, and now only old-fashioned people call it Cavendish.
Lastly, there is Fitzwilliam Hall. The same desire which led to the
foundation of Selwyn and Keble led to the passing of a grace by the
Senate of both Universities, by which students were allowed to become
members of the University without joining any particular college.
Unattached students now form a considerable element at both Oxford and
Cambridge. The necessity for a certain amount of combination goes,
nevertheless, without saying; and its result is Fitzwilliam Hall. A
house opposite the Fitzwilliam Museum has been purchased, and has been
turned into a club for non-collegiate students. There are a reading-room,
lecture rooms, and rooms for the tutors, who are, for the most part,
distinguished members of the older foundations. The non-collegiates
have their own gown, their boat on the river, and their own clubs and
societies; and, although some of their most promising members in time
join other colleges, they have a distinct corporate life and status of
their own. Thus, although Cambridge has in none of these respects been
in front of her traditionally conservative sister, she has at all events
followed not very far behind her in any.
XXI
GIRTON AND NEWNHAM
A few words must be devoted to these foundations, which, it cannot be
doubted, are destined to play so important a part in the future life of
the University. In the last chapter, I said that some of the founders
would have rejoiced to see a ceremony so much in keeping with traditional
usage as the consecration of Selwyn Chapel. It is at least doubtful
whether Henry VI. would have looked with approval on the lady students
who are so assiduous worshippers at his chapel; and even his imperious
consort, the foundress of Queens’, and the Lady Margaret herself, with
her rooms in Christ’s, would have probably hesitated to admit their own
sex to the privileges of University life. But “the old order changeth,”
and colleges for women are not only accomplished facts, but facts
which are very lively indeed. Till within the last half century, the
University’s estimate of the rights of women was very oriental: unmarried
fellows were the rule, and masters’ wives formed a very distinct social
clique. But the breaking-down of these barriers came in time, and,
with the ensuing civilisation, came the project for giving women the
privileges of University education. “You know what women’s minds are,”
wrote Erasmus scornfully of his patroness to a friend. The Professors
who to-day occupy Erasmus’ numerous chairs have plenty of opportunity of
seeing that women’s minds are not to be dismissed in a phrase. At any
rate, woman has stormed Cambridge, and made a considerable breach in the
fortifications, and the most doctrinaire of conservatives cannot keep her
from the closely guarded citadel of the degree.
Girton is the earlier of the two colleges. It was started at Hitchin
in 1869, and was removed to Cambridge in 1873. Even then it planted
itself outside the hallowed precinct, on the brow of a hill, beside
the straightest of all straight roads. Every Girton student knows,
to her cost, the long avenue of telegraph posts which separates her
from Cambridge; and although this approach, in fine weather, provides
excellent landscapes in Hobbéma’s best manner, in wet weather it is
exceptionally dismal. She has her compensation, however, in the beautiful
view which her college commands; and the buildings, although externally
of rather various merit, are inside as comfortable as any in modern
Cambridge. The style of the building is a mixed Gothic, and the older
parts have a very mellow, aged look, but the entrance tower and its wings
are built of a singularly disagreeable brick, which, one may hope, will
in time be concealed by ivy or some other creeper. The college takes its
name from the village of Girton, about half a mile to the north. The
church of Girton is worth seeing.
Newnham, which is in Cambridge itself, is a later foundation, but its
progress has been astonishing. It also takes its name from a suburban
village which has gradually become part of the town. The buildings of
Newnham form a very imposing array, and are a remarkable contrast, with
their Renaissance gables, to the Gothic buildings of Selwyn, just across
the road. Mr Basil Champneys has produced in them one of the best modern
imitations of French Renaissance; and their outline, seen at a favourable
distance, would not be unworthy of Chambord or Chenonceaux. The oldest
part is the Old Hall, forming the south-eastern angle of the college;
this belongs to 1875. Then came Clough Hall on the north side. Sidgwick
Hall followed it, and completed this side, and, in 1894, two sides of
a quadrangle were finished and the Old Hall joined to the rest by the
erection of the Pfeiffer Building. In this latest part of the college is
the principal gateway, now closed by a double gate of beautiful ironwork,
in memory of the first principal, Miss Clough. In the hall are portraits
of Miss Clough, Professor and Mrs Sidgwick, and Miss M. G. Kennedy, by
Mr J. J. Shannon, and one (by Richmond) of Miss Helen Gladstone, who
till lately was one of the leading Newnham dons. Young as they are, both
Girton and Newnham have their history, and are able to inspire their
students with a patriotism which is the natural result of extraordinary
perseverance and hardly-won victories.
[Illustration: Newnham College]
XXII
THE UNIVERSITY BUILDINGS
Fond tradition would compel us to accept the so-called School of
Pythagoras as the _fons et origo_ of the medieval University. However,
the legend does not go for very much, and we may suppose that, until the
foundation of several colleges brought about the necessity of a common
centre, education was carried on in the numerous monastic houses or by
private teachers at their own lodgings. The present schools, within the
limits of the University Library, are probably in part of the fourteenth
century, but, for the most part, belong to the latter half of the next
century. They are not very conspicuous, and probably ninety-nine out of
a hundred Cambridge men have never been inside them, as the majority of
public examinations are held in the Senate House and the various large
halls of which the town is full. They are, moreover, so incorporated in
the Library as to form part of the building, and have no very distinctive
mark.
[Illustration: The Senate House]
The architectural history of the Library is singularly complex. It
occupies two quadrangles north of and running parallel with King’s
Chapel. The first of these is the quadrangle of the schools, and is
entered from the open space between the Senate House and King’s; the
second occupies the site of the original quadrangle of King’s, and is
entered from the opposite side. Mr G. G. Scott has restored the old
gateway with some success, and it forms a good contrast to the opposite
gateway at Clare. Round these courts are grouped the very various Library
buildings. The Library itself is entered from the eastern side, to
which it presents a very stiff classical front. Somewhere between 1470
and 1480, the great prelate, Thomas Rotherham, then fellow of King’s
and Bishop of Lincoln, built a Perpendicular façade on this side; and
this was the beginning of the buildings. Hitherto the few books which
the Library contained, mostly bequeathed by Dr Richard Holme in 1424,
had been placed in the present south gallery on the first floor of the
quadrangle. The opposite gallery was then the Senate House. The western
gallery, above the school of Canon Law, overlooked the Court of King’s.
Rotherham thus completed the first quadrangle, and, until the eighteenth
century, the Library was contained in the eastern, southern and western
rooms. Mr Clark, in his picturesque notes on Cambridge, assures us that
it must have been hopelessly neglected. The days of building prelates
were long past when, in 1715, George I., for some unknown reason,
purchased the library of Dr John Moore, Bishop in succession of Norwich
and Ely, and presented it to the University. Just about the same time,
he had sent a regiment to enforce loyalty on Oxford. The epigrams which
passed between the Tory and Whig Universities on this occasion have been
so often quoted as to need no repetition. The Oxford epigram takes the
palm for neatness, but the Cambridge retort was the last word on the
subject.
However, although King George’s gift cannot be valued too highly as a
benefaction to Cambridge, and was also an incentive to wit of a very
felicitous order, it was in one way rather unfortunate. The books were
many; accommodation was small. It was proposed to place the addition
in what was then the Senate House, and to build a new meeting-place
for the University. Mr Burrough of Caius submitted a plan for the new
Senate House, of which we can see the result to-day. The quadrangle
was thus entirely given over to the Library. It must have formed one
of the most beautiful in Cambridge; to-day the western room, running
between the two courts, has one of the best interiors in any library.
But the age was hostile to medieval buildings. With architects like
Burrough and Gibbs—excellent architects, both of them—carrying out their
classical designs on either side, the Library was not suffered to remain
unmolested. The University decided to harmonise it with these structures.
In 1754 Rotherham’s front was destroyed, and the present Georgian
façade was put up, which, after all, harmonises very badly with the
Senate House. Rotherham’s gateway was bought by the owner of Madingley
Hall, and is now the entrance to the stables there. It is much to be
regretted, for the present aspect of the Library is singularly ignoble.
The interior, however, offers a better contrast. From the classical
east room, which, with all its plastered ugliness, is certainly stately
and not inappropriate, we pass into the Catalogue Room, once the Senate
House. Somebody adorned this room with a plaster ceiling in the last
century, but the old timber roof is being restored. In the west room,
which contains some valuable woodwork, we go back further into antiquity,
and, when we have completed the circuit of the Library, we shall have
seen a series of buildings which, in their diversity, are thoroughly
characteristic of Cambridge.