Chapter XXIII: The Churches of Cambridge 294 (4)

Side by side with Sibbes we may reckon the famous Dissenting preacher, Edmund Calamy, who was also a member of this college and was connected with Sidney as well. But, after the Restoration and Eachard’s improvements, St Catharine’s settled down again to its episcopal traditions. Sir William Dawes, Eachard’s successor from 1697 to 1714, was a worthy but in no way remarkable Archbishop of York. During his time, however, the society received a famous member in the militant Benjamin Hoadly,* Bishop first of Bangor, then of Hereford, then of Salisbury, and lastly of Winchester. It is curious that Hoadly, the typical Latitudinarian, as the ugly phrase goes, of his age, and his opponent, the no less typical High Churchman, William Law, were members of the two Cambridge colleges which had shown most activity on the Puritan side, St Catharine’s and Emmanuel. Hoadly’s book, _On the Nature of the Kingdom and Church of Christ_, is his chief claim to celebrity, as the doctrines which it advocated gave rise to the Bangorian Controversy and were the cause of many polemical treatises which have a distinct literary rank.

Other members of St Catharine’s about the end of the seventeenth century were Dr John Lightfoot,* master from 1650 to 1675, illustrious as an Orientalist; John Strype, the ecclesiastical antiquarian, who died in 1737 at the advanced age of ninety-four; and John Ray,* the naturalist, who died in 1705. In 1704, during Dawes’ mastership, the chapel was consecrated by Bishop Simon Patrick of Ely, who was a member of Queens’ College. In 1714, Dawes was succeeded by Thomas Sherlock,* whose oratorical powers gained him the Bishoprick of London. His sermons, which are specimens of a cold and stilted kind of eloquence, are read no longer, but his name survives as that of one of the great preachers of the last century. His successors down to the end of the century have not much interest outside the college. The long mastership of Dr Procter* covers almost the first half of the nineteenth century. During his time, the versatile Dr Turton* was fellow of the college and held various professorships. He became Dean of Westminster and eventually Bishop of Ely, where he continued till within comparatively recent years. He is perhaps best remembered as the composer of one of the most beautiful hymn-tunes which we possess—the tune called by him “Ely.” The college produced yet another bishop in Dr Procter’s successor, Henry Philpott, who was made Bishop of Worcester in 1861. He was succeeded by the present master, Dr Robinson. The mastership of St Catharine’s is one of those pleasant posts, which, like Pembroke College at Oxford, have a canonry attached to them. The canonry belonging to St Catharine’s is at Norwich, the pleasantest of all English cathedral cities, and, during the long vacation, the master fulfils his term of residence in the Norwich close. Among recent distinguished members of St Catharine’s we may mention Dr George Forrest Browne, late Disney Professor of Archæology, who succeeded Dean Gregory as Canon of St Paul’s, and was, in 1897, translated from the suffragan Bishoprick of Stepney to the revived Bishoprick of Bristol.

XII

JESUS COLLEGE

Bishop Alcock’s gate-tower, a few years earlier than those of Christ’s and St John’s, and almost contemporary with that of Queens’, forms a charming prelude to this beautiful college. Its stepped battlements are original, and its plan is more domestic than those of the other towers, which have a very monastic appearance. The founder’s coat-of-arms, the three cocks which the college has ever since borne as its cognisance, appear on various parts of the tower and in the roof of the gateway; but the statue of Bishop Alcock and a good deal of the decoration are new.[5] The tower is the entrance to the outer court of the college, whose ivy-grown buildings date from 1641. They are very fair late Gothic work and carefully follow Alcock’s tower in their general lines; they are due to Richard Sterne (master, 1633-1644 and again in 1660), but they were not actually finished until the beginning of George the First’s reign. They occupy three sides of the court; the western side is open, affording a good view of the towers in the centre of the town. From the opposite side a low postern gateway (part of the original work) leads into the inner court of the college, round which the public buildings are situated. The Hall is on the north side; opposite it is the Master’s Lodge and the nave of the chapel. The Library occupies the west side, and the northern transept of the chapel the east side. This was originally the cloister of the nunnery which was superseded by the college. The cloisters which exist are subsequent to the founding of the college, and for some time were shut in, like those at Wilton House. In the last century, however, they were opened to the court, and now they are simply of the ordinary covered type, without any wall of partition. A few years ago, while repairs were being carried on in the eastern wall of these cloisters, just north of the transept-end of the chapel, a beautiful triple arch of the Early English period was laid open, and may now be examined. This was probably the entrance to the nuns’ chapter-house. It is a very unique and delicate piece of work, dating probably from about 1240, and compares very well with the excellent work of that period to be found in Cambridgeshire.

Part of the chapel dates from the foundation of the nunnery, but a great 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

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!

But the presence of Milton must not allow us to forget the band of 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

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.

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.

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]