Cambridge and Its Colleges

by A. Hamilton Thompson

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.

Matthew Prior,* although a man of a different type from Baker, felt something of the same attachment for St John’s. He was sent to Cambridge by his patron, the Earl of Dorset, and in course of time obtained a fellowship. With considerable forethought, he refused to give up his fellowship when promoted to high offices of state, and consequently, after his imprisonment by the Whigs in 1715 and the loss of all his fortune, he managed to keep body and soul together at Cambridge. The enormous portrait of him by Rigaud, which is now in the Master’s Lodge, displays him in his robes as an ambassador, and is one of the most striking pictures in the college. He left a very beautiful collection of books to the library, among which may be mentioned a splendid folio edition of Ronsard’s poems. His poetry is essentially of the outer world and not of Cambridge, but its culture and the academic flavour which is apparent in the most frivolous pieces bear clear testimony to the influence of the University on this light-hearted scholar. A very opposite type of scholarship—the laborious and critical—is represented by Richard Bentley,* who was a member of the society at the same time with Matthew Prior, and rose to further fame as Master of Trinity. In this period, too, Divinity was well represented. To say nothing of Bishops Gunning and Turner, great names in the history of theology, three masters of the college held, with their mastership, the Lady Margaret Professorship of Divinity within a very short time of each other. These were Dr Humphrey Gower,* master in 1679, Dr Robert Jenkin,* in 1711, and Dr Newcome in 1735.