Highways and Byways in Cambridge and Ely

by John William Edward Conybeare

The Fountain, Trinity College.

Tennyson himself, Macaulay, Dr. Barrow, the Master to whom the College owes its Library,[47] and the massive virility of his omniscient successor, Dr. Whewell.[48] Brasses affixed to the walls commemorate many another great inmate of the College, who, "having served his own generation according to the will of God," is here laid to rest:

"Trinity's full tide of life flooding o'er him
Morning and evening as he lies dead."

These lines were written to commemorate Dr. Thompson, the late Master (renowned for his sarcastic humour), and refer to the fact that undergraduates are expected to put in every week a certain number of attendances at the morning and evening Services held daily in the Chapel.[49] This obligation is now very leniently construed by the Senior and Junior "Deans," under whose cognisance offences against it come; but not so very long ago it was exceedingly strict, and the Chapel Lists, on which the attendances were recorded, were objects of real dread to the slothful. In 1838 the Senior Fellows (then the Governing Body of the College),[50] decreed that every student must be present twice on Sunday and once on every other day of the week. This ukase brought about something like a rebellion. A secret "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Undergraduates" was formed, and avenged their wrongs by publishing every week regular lists exposing the far from adequate attendance of the Senior Fellows themselves (Thompson being one), to the intense annoyance of these dignitaries. Finally, they actually had the assurance to give a prize to the Fellow who had been most regular, Mr. Perry, who afterwards became the first Bishop of Melbourne, and who cherished the Bible thus won to the end of his life. The Society kept their secret for a whole Term, and, when finally discovered, were able to escape punishment by promising that the publication of their Lists, which made the Seniors the weekly laughing-stock of the University, should be brought to an end.

All these statues and memorials are in the Ante-Chapel, which is separated from the Chapel proper, as at King's, by the screen on which stands the great organ. This organ is the largest and best-toned in Cambridge,[51] but it is far from being as effective as the King's organ, to which the magnificent acoustic properties of its Chapel lend so wondrous a power. In Trinity there is always the sensation that the harmonies are boxed in; indeed the shape of the Chapel does very much suggest a box. In justice, however, to its designers, it must be remembered that the box-like effect would be very much lessened by the east and west windows with which it was originally provided. The latter was closed by Nevile's putting back the clock tower to abut upon it; the former still exists, as may be seen from the outside, but is utterly shut off from the interior by a huge and far from beautiful baldachino erected (not at his own cost but at that of the impoverished Fellows) by Dr. Bentley. This famous scholar was one of the few unpleasant Masters with whom the Crown (in which is here vested the right, usually belonging to the Fellows, of appointing the Head of the College) ever saddled Trinity. He passed his whole time as Head in one long unceasing quarrel with his College. To begin with, he was unpopular as being a member of the adjoining Foundation of St. John's, between which and Trinity there existed an age-long rivalry. Not many years before something like open war had been levied between the Colleges on the occasion of a Trinity merry-making, the Johnian onlookers being attacked with burning torches and using swords in their defence; while an attempt which they made to rush the great gates was beaten off by showers of stones and brickbats which had been stored to that end on the roof of the Gate Tower.

St. John's was at this time the largest College, and despised Trinity; a sentiment which Bentley, who was a born bully,[52] expressed with the utmost frankness, publicly calling the Fellows "asses," "dogs," "fools," "sots," and other scurrilous names, as they piteously set forth in their complaints to their Visitor,[53] the Bishop of Ely. Finally he was degraded by the Senate,[54] and reduced to the status of "a bare Harry-Soph," as a contemporary diarist (quoted by Mr. Clark)[55] puts it. But no Master, except Nevile and Barrow, has left so enduring a mark upon the College; for the ruinous expenditure into which he dragooned the unhappy Fellows has given the Chapel not only the baldachino, but the stalls, the panelling, and the organ; to say nothing of the clock, and the splendid oak staircase in the Lodge.

The profuse gilding and painting which enriches walls and roof in the Chapel is due to a restoration some forty years ago, when the outside was also faced with stone, and the windows filled with stained glass, commemorating ecclesiastical and other celebrities throughout all the Christian centuries. The Apostles appear in the most easterly windows on either side; whence the series progresses in chronological order westwards. The figures are for the most part powerfully drawn, and should be examined through an opera glass to appreciate their wealth of detail. We can thus see that Hildebrand has driven his crosier through the eagles of the Imperial Crown, that Dante, Matthew Paris, and Roger Bacon, hold in their hands copies of their own greatest works, that Giotto is studying an elevation of his Campanile; while noted church-builders, like St. Hugh of Lincoln and William of Wykeham, carry models of their edifices. The hapless Mary Tudor holds one of this very Chapel, of which she was the Foundress. It is appropriate that the beautiful silver cross over the Altar should be Spanish work of her date, though only placed there a few years ago by the generosity of some members of the College who met with it while travelling in Spain. It was originally a processional cross, and has been adapted for its new purpose with artistic skill of the first order.

When we leave the Chapel, and proceed towards the Great Gate, we are treading on classic ground. For it was along this flagged path that Macaulay, while at Trinity, used to take his daily exercise, pacing assiduously up and down, always the while devouring some author, whose pages he turned over with incredible rapidity, and at the same pace whether they were filled with the weightiest thought or the lightest fancy. Yet whether the book were profound philosophy or exquisite poetry or the trashiest of rhyme and fiction, he was ever afterwards able to recall its whole scheme and even to quote lengthy portions of it verbatim. His rooms were in the staircase facing us—the set on the ground-floor to the left of the entrance. This particular staircase has been the home of more great men than any other in the University. The ground-floor rooms opposite Macaulay's were those of Thackeray,[56] and the set above Thackeray's are hallowed as the habitation of Sir Isaac Newton: for whom the College built an observatory on the roof of the Gate Tower, and who also had the use of a small bit of ground which we see outside the gate, now a railed-in lawn, but then a pretty little garden, as Logan's view shows, with trees and flower-beds, surrounded by a high wall.