Highways and Byways in Cambridge and Ely

by John William Edward Conybeare

When each College brewed its own ale and baked its own bread, as was the case till some half-century ago, the Buttery was a really important place. Even now the daily ration of bread and butter to which each Collegian in residence has a right, is here booked to him. This ration is called his "Commons." If for any approved reason he does not desire to draw it in any given week he is said to be "out of Commons"; and if, as sometimes happens, he is deprived of the right for misconduct, he is said to be "discommonsed" for such or such a period. (The equivalent phrase at Oxford is "to be crossed at the Buttery.") The Buttery officials also have charge of the adjoining strong-room in which the magnificent store of the College plate is secured; mighty salvers and bowls and "grace-cups,"[37] besides dishes, and the hundreds of spoons and forks, all the gifts of benefactor after benefactor since the College was first founded. A visitor may sometimes be fortunate enough to get a sight of these resplendent piles.

A sight of the kitchen, which adjoins the Buttery, can almost always be had, and is worth having; though the glory of the place has largely departed with the substitution of gas stoves for the old open ranges, six feet high and twelve feet long, before which scores of joints and fowls might be seen simultaneously twisting on huge spits. If less picturesque, the cooking is now more scientific, and the kitchen is a splendid chamber, the finest of all College kitchens, with an open pitched roof, and an oriel window, having been traditionally the ancient Hall of Michaelhouse. The walls are adorned with the shells of turtles, emblazoned with the dates of the great occasions on which they were immolated for soup. It is not only the dinners in Hall which are here cooked. Members of the College may order dishes to be sent to their own rooms, in reason; though any very extra expenditure in this respect would need to be authorised by your Tutor. This extraneous fare may constantly be seen being carried about the Courts, in large flat blue boxes, on the heads of the kitchen servants.

The doors of the Hall may usually be found open, or a request at the Buttery may open them; though there is a certain amount of luck in the matter, as the Hall is not only used for meals but for College examinations also, which, of course, must not be disturbed by intruders. A common lunch is served during Full Term, from 12 till 2, at which such as list sit where they will, Dons and undergraduates, cheek by jowl. The three daily dinners which the size of the College makes necessary are more formal affairs, especially the latest at 7.45, which the authorities of the College attend, sitting at the two High Tables on the dais, and faring more sumptuously than the students in the body of the Hall. Of these only the "Senior Sophs"[38] may be present, the "Junior Sophs" and Freshmen being relegated to the earlier hours. The westernmost range of tables is sacred to Bachelors of Arts and to the Scholars of the College. The rest may sit where they please at the remaining tables, and diners may enter and leave at their pleasure during the meal, but any course missed by lateness is missed for good. Ordinary morning dress is worn, except on special Feasts. Conversation may be freely indulged in, though it hardly, nowadays, rises to the height of Tennyson's heroic phrase in "In Memoriam," "the thunder of the Halls." The Master of the College himself does not dine in Hall except at great Feasts, but in his own adjacent Lodge, to the north, which communicates directly with the Hall by a door in the panelling between, and also by a sliding panel above, whence he (and his ladies) can, unobserved, overlook, and more or less overhear, what passes.

The high-pitched roof with its elaborate beams is copied, as are the other features (and the dimensions) of the Hall, from the Hall of the Middle Temple in London. Its ridge is broken in the centre by a "Lantern," or small openwork spire of wood (the openings being now glazed). This once served as a ventilating shaft, through which might escape the fumes of the great brazier (a yard in depth and two yards across) standing beneath it, and, till this generation, the only means used to warm the Hall. Over the doors is a "Music Gallery," usually closed in by quaintly carved shutters, whence, on Feast days, the College Choristers still discourse melody. The armorial bearings in the windows are those of eminent members of the College; while pictures of its more prominent Worthies (or Unworthies) hang on the walls. Conspicuous amongst these is Holbein's great portrait of Henry the Eighth, who stands "straddled over the whole breadth of the way," above the centre of the High Table, in all his underbred self-assertion, looking indeed "all our fancy painted him." His unhappy daughter Mary (who built the College Chapel) hangs near him, her full dourness and wretchedness in her face. Thackeray (a singularly powerful presentation) is also here, so is Clerk-Maxwell, so is Bishop Lightfoot, and many another light of literature, science, and theology; for the great size of Trinity has given it as great a proportion in the rolls of Fame.

On the other side of the Screens, in the "Combination Room," whither the High Table adjourns for dessert, may be seen other famous Trinity men, the most conspicuous being the celebrated Marquis of Granby, standing by his war-horse, with the bare bald head which won him his renown. He was in the act of charging the enemy[39] at the head of his regiment when the wind of a cannon ball carried away his hat and wig; and he did not halt his soldiery that they might be picked up. This unexampled pitch of heroism awoke the wildest enthusiasm throughout the length and breadth of England and made "The Marquis of Granby," as readers of Pickwick will remember, a favourite sign for inns throughout many years. Entrance to the Combination Room is only obtained through favour. There is little else to notice in it except the beautiful polish of the mahogany tables.

In the Screens are posted up the current College Notices—the hours and subjects of the lectures, the dates and results of the College examinations,[40] and the various tutorial admonishments of the Term. There is usually only one Tutor in a College, but the great size of Trinity requires the services of four; each being responsible for his own "Side," as it is called, consisting of some 150 students, to whom he is supposed (and the supposition is no unfounded one) to be "guide, philosopher, and friend," keeping a wise eye to their progress, moral, social, and intellectual.

Trinity Bridge.

Passing through the eastern doorway of the Screens we meet what is perhaps the most ideal academic view in the world. From our feet descends a semicircular stairway with steps of worn stone leading down to a vast enclosure of greensward, surrounded and traversed by broad walks of flags and pebbles, and enclosed on all sides by venerable Collegiate buildings with battlemented parapets. These buildings are not very lofty; which makes the court look even larger than it is, and gives the greater effect to the three grand gate towers, one of which adorns each of the three sides before us. In the midst of the Court (which is not far from square but delightfully irregular in shape) rises the inspired gracefulness of the fountain—with its octagonal base of broad steps (surrounded by bright flowerbeds) and its crocketed canopy upborne upon slender pillars with beautifully proportioned arches.[41] The whole is a veritable miracle of design, and would hold its own with any fountain even in Italy. It is, indeed, the work of Italian craftsmen of the best period,[42] brought over specially by Dr. Nevile, to whose genius we owe this most splendid of all College quadrangles, the "Old Court" (sometimes called the "Great Court") of Trinity.