To appreciate the greatness of this debt, we must bear in mind that, when he became Master of the College, Nevile found the ground occupied by heterogeneous ranges of old buildings, the remains of the suppressed Colleges and Hostels, running chaotically in all sorts of directions. These are shown in the earliest map of Cambridge,[43] made in 1592, just before he began his great work of pulling down, setting back, building and rebuilding. He thus remodelled almost the whole; the Chapel alone (built fifty years earlier) and the great eastern gate-tower remaining as they were before his reconstructions. In reality this Court, far more than the Cloister Court, deserves to be called by his name, and to remind us of his motto Ne vile velis ("Nothing cheap and nasty").
Since his day, indeed, surprisingly little alteration has been made. Plaster has been put on (and stripped off) here and there, stonework has been touched up, the Master's Lodge has been altered and re-altered, but the only radical change has been in the south-west corner beyond the Hall, which was rebuilt in 1775, with results as artistically deplorable as may well be, especially in comparison with the older work. Nevile had left in this corner a beautiful oriel window, still to be seen in Logan's view of the College (1680).
Of the three gate towers only one is of Nevile's own building, that on the southern side of the Court, known as the Queen's Gate from the statue of Anne of Denmark, the Queen Consort of James the First, which stands above its inner archway. The gate of this tower is used only on occasions. The other two both belonged to King's Hall; the eastern being still in its original place, the northern, which formerly aligned with it, having been moved back by Nevile to align with the Chapel. Both set forth the glories of Edward the Third; the former displaying over its entrance gate the armorial bearings of his seven sons, while over the archway of the latter he stands himself, with his three crowns (of England, France and Scotland) spitted on the long naked sword which he holds erect in front of him, and the proud motto "Fama super æthera notus" ("Known by Fame beyond the skies"). From his like niche in the eastern tower he has been displaced by Henry the Eighth. The statues on the inside of this tower are James the First, with his wife and son (afterwards Charles the First).
The northern tower is commonly known as the Clock Tower; being the dwelling place of the famous timepiece referred to by Wordsworth in the "Prelude" as breaking the silence of his rooms at St. John's College, which were not many yards away:
"Near me hung Trinity's loquacious clock,
Who never let the quarters, night or day,
Slip by him unproclaimed, and told the hours
Twice over, with a male and female voice."
The clock actually does repeat the hour, striking it first on the biggest of the three bells in the tower, whose note is A flat, and then on the second, E flat, a fifth above. The quarters are notified by two, four, six and eight strokes respectively on the first and second bells, F and E flat, a tone apart.[44]
To complete the round of the Court outside the grass-plots while midnight strikes is a favourite test of running powers amongst the Undergraduates. It is a fairly severe one; for the distance is 383 yards, with four sharp corners to negotiate, on somewhat pronounced pebbling, and the time occupied by the 32 strokes (8 for the 4 quarters and a double 12 for the hour) is only 43 seconds. An easier performance is to make a standing jump from top to bottom of the steps before the Hall; this is chiefly a trial of nerve. There are 8 steps, each 6 inches high and 15 wide, so that the drop is only 4 feet and the distance under 10; but it is a fearsome thought, looking down, to contemplate the result should one's heel catch on a step. To jump clear up the flight is a real feat, which only two men are known to have accomplished: even with the preliminary run which is possible below though not above the stairway.
On our way through the Court towards the Chapel, we have on our left hand the Master's Lodge, the front of which is an exceptionally happy piece of early Victorian restoration. A poor classical façade had (under Bentley) replaced Nevile's original front. But this front was still to be seen in Logan's print, and was thus (in 1842) reconstructed with little alteration. The Lodge contains splendid reception rooms, worthy of a palace. The Chapel, though by no means of the first rank as regards artistic beauty, is well worth seeing, for it contains what high authorities consider the very finest statue ever made since the palmy days of Greek art, Roubillac's wonderful presentation of Sir Isaac Newton.[45] There he stands at the west end of the Chapel, prism in hand, the king of all scientists, gazing with rapt eyes into Infinity, and a smile full of hope and illumination upon his lips.[46] The story goes that the expression on these lips did not wholly satisfy the sculptor at his first sight of his creation on its pedestal, and that he climbed up, then and there, chisel in hand, to give the effect he desired with a few exquisitely directed blows.
Other heroic figures are grouped around, Francis Bacon, (Tennyson's
"Large-browed Verulam
The first of those that know,")