Highways and Byways in Cambridge and Ely Part 8

[Footnote 34: The entrance was from the New Court, which communicates with Nevile's Court by an arcade in the southern cloister of the latter.]

[Footnote 35: All the Colleges have thus suffered severely; King's being hit hardest of all. Trinity was less seriously affected, owing to the fact that much of its land lies in the North of England.]

The beautiful rooms of Nevile's Court are mostly held by Fellows of the College whose names may be known in the doorway lists by the "Mr."

prefixed to them. Over one doorway we see a small bronze bust, set up as a memorial to Mr. Goodhart who once "kept" there and was an object of special admiration to all who knew him. He was, in fact, a kind of Admirable Crichton; not only a man of great intellectual power (as Fellows of Trinity must needs be, for these fellowships are the "blue riband" of the University), but excellent at all athletic pursuits, and able to do successfully whatever thing he set his hand to. It is recorded that on one occasion a bet was laid that he could not make himself an entire suit of clothes, and wear them for a month without their amateur origin being detected. Goodhart won the bet.

Beautiful as Nevile's Court is, it was originally yet more beautiful, with transomed windows, and gabled dormers instead of the present eighteenth century parapet. These are shown in a view "after Logan,"

given by Atkinson,[36] from the terrace before the Hall, by which we leave the court, pa.s.sing through a low and ma.s.sive wicket gate of black oak. This admits us into the "screens," a short and narrow pa.s.sage having the Hall on one side, and, on the other, the kitchen and the b.u.t.tery. This last word has no connection with b.u.t.ter (though b.u.t.ter is here issued), but is derived from _butler_, as being the place where the ale for the hall dinners is served out. Its door, as is universal in such places, is a "hatch," the upper and lower halves of the door opening independently, and a broad sill on the top of the latter forming a sort of counter across which the business of the place is transacted. Of old the b.u.t.tery served as an office, where much of the clerical work of the College was done; but this branch of its usefulness is now transferred to a special department.

[Footnote 36: _Cambridge Described_, p. 444.]

When each College brewed its own ale and baked its own bread, as was the case till some half-century ago, the b.u.t.tery was a really important place. Even now the daily ration of bread and b.u.t.ter 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 b.u.t.tery.") The b.u.t.tery 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.

[Footnote 37: A "Grace-cup" is a large silver tankard which at College feasts is solemnly pa.s.sed down the High Table, each guest in turn standing up to drink it. Three, indeed, must always be so standing, the drinker, the last man, and the next man; whence the cup has sometimes three handles. At each potation the three concerned formally bow to each other.]

A sight of the kitchen, which adjoins the b.u.t.tery, can almost always be had, and is worth having; though the glory of the place has largely departed with the subst.i.tution 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 sh.e.l.ls 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 b.u.t.tery 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, un.o.bserved, overlook, and more or less overhear, what pa.s.ses.

[Footnote 38: For the first year of his residence the student is called a Freshman, in the next he is a "Junior Soph," and in the third a "Senior Soph." The origin of the word "Soph" is doubtful. It is presumably short for Sophist; but all Americans will recognise it as the origin of their "Soph.o.m.ore." And American University nomenclature is largely derived from Cambridge. The word, however, has of late gone out of general use, and practically survives scarcely anywhere but in Trinity.]

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-a.s.sertion, 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.

[Footnote 39: At the battle of Minden, 1759.]

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.

[Footnote 40: Besides the University Examinations needed to obtain a Degree, every College keeps its students up to the mark by extra examinations of its own, held usually twice a year. There are also compet.i.tive examinations for the College Scholarships, and (at Trinity) for the Fellowships. About seventy per cent. of Trinity students are "Honour men"; reading, not for the ordinary (or "Poll") Degree, but for one or other of the various Triposes. And of these "Honour" candidates of Trinity, over thirty per cent. attain a First Cla.s.s; which is thus gained by nearly twenty-five per cent. of Trinity students, the highest College average in the University.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Trinity Bridge._]

Pa.s.sing 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.

[Footnote 41: The water is from an ancient conduit made originally to supply the Franciscan Convent, and comes from a spring some two miles to the west. Till recently this was the only supply for Trinity, and (by a charitable tap outside the Great Gate) for many neighbours also.

Now it is supplemented by an artesian well behind the chapel, bored to a depth of 120 feet into the Greensand.]

[Footnote 42: These same craftsmen probably made the beautiful ceilings in the Combination Room at St. John's College (which is copied from that in one of the rooms in this Court), and in the University Library.]

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").

[Footnote 43: See _Cambridge Described_, p. 443.]

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 aethera 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]

[Footnote 44: Both clock and bells are due to Dr. Bentley, the famous Master who bullied the College into so many happy and undesired expenses during his tenure of office (1700-1742). The repeating is solely for convenience; one often fails to note the first stroke or two of an hour.]

To complete the round of the Court outside the gra.s.s-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 p.r.o.nounced 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 cla.s.sical facade 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.

[Footnote 45: This was given to the College in 1755 by the then Master, Dr. Robert Smith.]

[Footnote 46: Wordsworth in "The Prelude" tells us how he loved

"The antechapel, where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind for ever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone."]

Other heroic figures are grouped around, Francis Bacon, (Tennyson's

"Large-browed Verulam The first of those that know,")

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Fountain, Trinity College._]

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

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

[Footnote 47: Barrow's great wish was that the University should build a theatre (like the Sheldonian at Oxford), instead of having its dramas performed, as they then were, in the University Church. When the Senate boggled at the expense, he declared that Trinity should shame them by erecting unaided a yet finer building than he proposed, and "that very afternoon" himself staked out the foundations of the Library. (_Clark's Guide_, p. 123.)]

[Footnote 48: Of the astonishingly wide sweep of Whewell's knowledge many tales are yet told. There was no subject on which he could not talk with authority. It is related how an impertinent Fellow once hoped to puzzle him by getting up an article on Chinese music in a back number of the _Edinburgh Review_, and introducing the subject in Hall. "Ah," replied Whewell, "it is a long time since I thought of that. But you will find an article of mine about it in the _Edinburgh_, some ten or fifteen years ago."]

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 a.s.surance 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.

[Footnote 49: On Sundays and Festivals all wear surplices, and the throng then presents a very striking appearance. It suggested Tennyson's vision of "Six hundred maidens clad in purest white," in "The Princess."]

[Footnote 50: This is now the College Council, consisting of the Master, the Tutors, and other Members elected for a certain period.]

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 pa.s.sed 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.

[Footnote 51: It was made early in the eighteenth century by the celebrated Father Smith, an organ-builder of world-wide fame.]

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 "a.s.ses," "dogs,"