[23] Fuller’s History of Cambridge, reprint 1840, p. 265. Fuller mistakenly assigned the disturbance to 1566–67 instead of 1565–66.
[24] Since published in the Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society, 22 May 1916, vol. XX, pp. 114–116.
[25] When I first came into residence a survival of this interpolated symphony existed in a long organ solo which preceded the anthem.
[104]
]CHAPTER VI.
SOME COLLEGE TREASURES.
Those who live among beautiful surroundings and in constant touch with works of art are often apt to take their privileges for granted. Members of Trinity are proud of the buildings of the College and the grounds in which they are placed, and most of us know something of their history and characteristic features. But with our art treasures there is less general acquaintance, and so perhaps it may not be out of place to jot down a few notes on some of them—chiefly pictures and plate—in which I take pleasure.
Of the contents of the library I say nothing, for a volume would be needed to describe them even briefly. The illuminated manuscripts and the early printed books attract most attention, but there are numerous other subjects in which the library must be ranked among the most important in Great Britain. I have often been told by undergraduates that they have never been in the building except once when they signed the Admission Book. That is true enough of some men, but those who are interested in rare and famous books and yet never visit the Library neglect exceptional opportunities.
[105]
]Of oil portraits—in all nearly two hundred—of former members of the College, we own a valuable collection, and they illustrate in a remarkable way how many distinguished men have been educated here. Identification is easy as labels are placed on most of the pictures. Unfortunately we have no gallery in which they can be shown. Some are put in the hall, some in the master’s lodge, some in the combination room, and some in the library, lecture-rooms, etc. Those in the lodge are set off well, but the others are not hung to advantage.
About twenty-five years ago a proposal was made to raise subscriptions for an art gallery to be built along the edge of the river starting from the present north end of the library and extending over the land now occupied by the master’s stables and the end of his garden. At that time the proposal did not receive much favour, but now I sometimes wonder if we were wise in putting the plan on one side. Certainly we have more canvasses than we can exhibit satisfactorily. The hall, too, would look a more dignified apartment if the pictures, except for one or two on the dais, were taken away: recently their temporary removal was necessitated by repairs to the woodwork, and the improvement in the appearance of the room was noticeable. The general effect of such a clearance may be judged by a visit to the hall of the Middle [106] ]Temple in London. The dimensions of the body of that hall are the same as ours, but instead of pictures on the side walls, each small oak panel bears an armorial shield: these harmonise well with the architectural lines of the building. Where, as is the case with our neighbours at St John’s, the panelling is low and there is above it a big stretch of stone or painted wall, pictures add to the effect, but this is not the case where the panelling is high.
Of all our pictures I suppose the one which attracts most attention is that of Henry VIII which hangs over the dais at the north end of the hall: it was given us by Robert Beaumont, who held the mastership from 1561 to 1567. The artist was Hans Eworth, a Dutchman who lived in London circ. 1543–75, and worked with or under the influence of Antonio Moro: the portrait was taken from or founded on that of the king in the fresco painted by Holbein in 1537 on a wall of the privy chamber in Whitehall palace. This fresco, which was destroyed in the fire of 1698 and till then deservedly treated as one of the art treasures of London, contained portraits of Henry VII and Henry VIII with their queens, Elizabeth of York and Jane Seymour. Holbein’s studies for the heads of the two kings have been preserved, and are at Chatsworth and Munich. Most of the extant portraits of Henry VIII are copied from or founded on this fresco. Signs [107] ]of deterioration in the fresco were noticeable in the reign of Charles II, and by his orders it was copied by Remée, a French painter then resident in London. The original fresco was on each side of and above a fireplace or window. Instead of depicting this, the artist represented this space as occupied by a pedestal containing an inscription: his delineation of the faces of the sovereigns is poor, but he has preserved Holbein’s general design. Two copies of the reproduction are extant, one of which is in the royal collection and the other at Petworth.
Hardly less notable than the presentation of our founder, and far more valuable, is the charming portrait by Joshua Reynolds of the duke of Gloucester (1776–1834) as a boy: the duke was a cousin of George III and afterwards chancellor of the University. Reynolds wrote in his diary that the boy sat for his portrait in March 1780 when he was four years old, and that the finished picture was delivered in January 1788—the charge for it being a hundred guineas. Horace Walpole praised it, but thought it “washy,” an opinion not shared by modern critics who esteem it one of Reynolds’s masterpieces. The picture was left to the College in 1843 by the will of the duke’s sister, the Princess Sophia, with a request that it should be hung in the hall. The legacy was due to the good offices of a freshman of the time—the Hon. Douglas Gordon, [108] ]son of George, fourth earl of Aberdeen. He described the circumstances attending the gift as follows: