Part 3

No famous names occur in connection with the college before the Reformation. The early sixteenth century produced a good number of benefactors, and Hugh de Balsham’s original provisions were considerably amplified. In 1553 Andrew Perne became master. His fame is largely local, but he is a very significant figure in an age chiefly remarkable for the strength of its religious convictions. His mastership begins at the end of Edward VI.’s reign, and lasted for thirty-six years. He combined with it the Deanery of Ely, and showed great sagacity in the tenure of both offices. During Mary’s reign, he was Chancellor of the University, and under his auspices the burning of Bucer’s and Fagius’ remains took place. However, although this somewhat unnecessary act of vengeance might have stamped his opinions, he seems to have veered at the accession of Elizabeth with great suppleness, and to have trimmed his sails to the royal wind up to the day of his death. The wits of the University made his accommodating policy their butt, and, with the heavy wit of the day, coined the verb _pernare_, which signified “to turn one’s coat.” Perne, although he possibly merits some contempt, made nevertheless a very good use of his unscrupulous comfort. I have already mentioned his additions to the college. He also originated that water-supply which is now so ornamental a feature in certain parts of the town. The broad gutters along which streams run down Trumpington Street for most of the year were not constructed till after his death, but it was he who first suggested that healthy water might be brought from the neighbouring Gogmagog Hills.

To the society of Peterhouse, for some years of Perne’s time, belonged the celebrated John Whitgift. Whitgift was an example of a system which has now ceased to a great extent in Cambridge. He was an undergraduate of Queens’ to begin with; he then obtained a fellowship at Peterhouse, and was in succession Master of Pembroke and Trinity before his elevation to a bishoprick. His connection with Peterhouse is very passing, but, while a member of the college, he held the Lady Margaret Professorship of Divinity. In 1567, when he became Master of Pembroke, he vacated it for the Regius Professorship, which he held until his translation to the See of Worcester. At the same time Peterhouse held also another professor, Dr Thomas Lorkin, who occupied the Regius Chair of Physic. Professorships were then commonly held with other offices, and John Richardson, fellow of Emmanuel, who was Master of Peterhouse from 1609 to 1615 was also Regius Professor of Divinity.

Richardson became Master of Trinity in 1615. In the time of his successor, Thomas Turner, one of Peterhouse’s most celebrated sons was in residence, the poet Richard Crashaw. The beginning of the sixteenth century found many poets at Cambridge, of whom Crashaw is certainly not the least remarkable. Like George Herbert, who was some twenty years his senior, he was brought up in the traditions of the Church of England, but scarcely had time to prove his principles before the outbreak of the Civil War. He was by temperament a mystic, and his early love-poems show a certain religious tendency. It is probable that his study of St Theresa and the bigotry of the Puritan party drove him, between them, into the Church of Rome. He eventually took orders and died as a Canon of Loreto. His mystical poems have become very fashionable of late years, and he certainly deserves a very high place among our lyric poets. He was also a musician. Although we know little of his life at Cambridge, it is certain that he must have been a prominent figure in the intellectual life of a period when University life was entirely intellectual.

In 1632 the chapel was finished and was consecrated in the next year by Bishop Francis White of Ely. Next year the master, Dr Matthew Wren, was succeeded by Dr John Cosin. The new master was one of the most acute theologians of the century, and was deeply impressed, like most contemporary churchmen, with the possibilities of the Church of England. He was one of the first to vindicate its position and maintain its orders as valid. His proceedings at Peterhouse were hardly popular. Cambridge has never been guilty of over-rating external forms of worship, and, in the case of Cosin, she showed her indignation very plainly. The Puritans were furious at his ritual; they complained of his bowings and genuflexions, and of the crucifix he set up over the altar of his chapel. In 1643 the iconoclast Dowsing paid a visit to Cambridge, and used the most drastic remedies at Peterhouse. Fortunately, the beautiful east window, which would have provoked his zealous wrath, was hidden by the Society and escaped damage. Cosin was ejected by Parliament in 1644, and for sixteen years the college was ruled by Lazarus Seaman. Cosin returned at the Restoration, and the “idols” were restored to their proper place. But in the same year Cosin was rewarded for his long exile with the See of Durham. In the magnificent chapel which he built at Auckland Castle, we may trace in some measure his affection to Peterhouse; for its beautiful late Gothic was doubtless suggested by Dr Wren’s chapel.

Cosin has had no very conspicuous successors. He was the last Master of Peterhouse but one who became a bishop. His immediate predecessors, Leonard Maw and Matthew Wren, were both translated to bishopricks: Maw to Bath and Wells, and Wren, whose name is most famous, to Ely. During the time of Dr Law,* Bishop of Carlisle, who was master from 1754 to 1788, and filled for a short time the chair of Moral Philosophy, the poet Gray was obliged to change his residence to Pembroke. Gray is one of those persons, uncommon in the last century, who saw beauty in nature, and he became a kind of artistic apostle at Cambridge. This position, which usually connotes a superiority amounting to superciliousness, did not render him popular at Peterhouse. He had a horror of fire, and kept a fire-escape attached to his window. One night, some of the more normal members of the college raised an alarm of fire, and Gray descended his fire-escape into a bucket of water which had been prepared for him. Having all that lack of humour which is distinctive of æsthetic reformers, he migrated to Pembroke, where he seems to have been better appreciated than in his own college. He lived in Pembroke for the last twenty-five years of his life, and, for the last three (1768-71), was Regius Professor of Modern History.

Dr Law died in 1788, and was succeeded by Dr Francis Barnes,* who continued in his seat for fifty years, holding, like his predecessor, the Professorship of Moral Philosophy from 1813 to his death in 1838. Then Dr Hodgson was master for nine years, and his successor, Dr Cookson, was succeeded in 1876 by the present Master. Among the notable men of the present day Peterhouse claims the Archbishop of York and Lord Kelvin.* Through Lord Kelvin’s generosity, it was the first college in Cambridge to use electric light. None of the rest have adopted this modern improvement till quite recently, and even now it is by no means general. Peterhouse, however, has kept up its traditions and occupies a leading place in the history of scientific progress: for, beside Lord Kelvin, its books contain the names of the mathematician Dr Routh* and the well-known Professor Dewar (* Orchardson).

IV

CLARE COLLEGE

Loggan, in his invaluable _Cantabrigia Illustrata_, gives us two views of the court of Clare, the first a bird’s-eye view of the whole building, the second an elevation of the north side, as it was completed at the end of Queen Anne’s reign. The college had to pass through some trouble before its buildings were completed. After its foundation in 1342, a court was built which lasted till 1525. It was then injured by fire. The remains were taken down, and preparations were made for a new building, which was not begun till 1638, an unfortunate period. During the Civil Wars, the work was at a standstill, and the north side, built principally during the mastership of Dr Samuel Blythe (1678-1713), was not actually finished till 1715. Sir George Downing, then a fellow commoner, contributed to its completion. Later, in 1769, the present Chapel was built from the designs of the Master of Caius, Sir James Burrough. Clare thus presents examples of three distinct periods in Renaissance work. The earliest portion is the eastern side of the court with the gateway, the beauty of which cannot be too highly praised. The style is the fantastic Italian Gothic of the period, mixed largely with classical forms; but the work is free from what Mr Ruskin would call insincerity. It is useful to compare it with the chapel at Peterhouse, consecrated five years before this was begun. Its characteristics are those of all the cultured work of the early Stewart period, and have points in common with a building like Ingestre Hall near Stafford, which has unfortunately perished by fire. The south side is of the same date; the admirable proportions of this part of the court may be seen from the grounds of King’s. On the western side is a building of the time of Charles II. and James II. Its inner face harmonises fairly well with the rest, but debased forms, such as the meaningless broken arch, appear. The river front is pure Palladian, and the effect of the order of pilasters which runs through the two upper stories is very harsh. The northern face of the court is good, solid, ugly Queen Anne work, which has, of late years, been spoiled rather than improved. On this side is the Hall with great sash-windows, which the famous Clare creeper does not succeed in hiding. The Chapel is a plain building of excellent proportions. Internally, it has most of the virtues and faults of a Georgian college chapel: the domical antechapel is an original feature. On the whole, Clare, which covers less ground than most colleges, is, architecturally, among the best; but it is a pity that all was not carried out in the style of the western side, which is almost unrivalled in any country, considering its date. The celebrated bridge, not unlike the Kitchen Bridge at St John’s, belongs to the reign of Charles I. and is therefore contemporary with the older part of the court. It is well set off by its charming surroundings. The architect of this bridge, completed in 1640, was Robert Grumbold, who was master-mason to the college, and worked at Great St Mary’s as well as at Clare.

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The idea of Clare Hall originated with Richard de Badew, who, in 1326, while Chancellor of the University, founded a small college called University Hall. The first master of this new foundation was Walter of Thaxted. But, in the twelfth year of its existence, the college was burned down. Usually the present college dates its foundation from 1338, when the rebuilding began, but the actual date at which Elizabeth de Burgh took over the foundation was 1342. She was daughter and coheir of Gilbert, Count of Clare, Hertford and Gloucester. Clare lies on the border of Suffolk and Essex, and the college was essentially an Essex colony. Two of the early masters, Walter of Thaxted and William of Radwinter, came from villages in the same part of the county, and their names, occurring not far apart, argue a certain feeling in favour of natives of the district. There was for a long time a tradition that Clare Hall was the Soler Hall of Chaucer’s _Reve’s Tale_, but it is not necessary to suppose that Chaucer had any particular college in his mind. His use of the epithet “great” may point to Clare and distinguish it from the numerous hostels which were then springing up in Cambridge; but there can be no certainty on the point. Chaucer merely borrowed a tale from Boccaccio and put it into English dress, without any particular accuracy of detail.

Clare has, on the whole, no very momentous annals. Hugh Latimer,* the famous Bishop of Worcester, was a member of this foundation, and, as Fellow of Clare, preached in St Edward’s Church. Until the foundation of King’s, the chapel of Clare was the parish church of St John the Baptist, which stood on the south side of the college. After St John’s had been removed to make way for King’s, Clare shared the possession of St Edward’s Church with Trinity Hall. Latimer, however, is by no means the typical theologian of Clare. The worthies of the college are chiefly religious, and, a century after, it contributed to the Laudian revival. When James I. paid his visit to Cambridge, he was entertained with a comedy at Clare. The name of the piece was “Ignoramus” and its author was Mr George Ruggle, one of the society. It satirised the civil law, which was then doing its best to oust the canon law, and James, who always had a keen sympathy for the obsolete, was hugely delighted. Some years before, Ruggle had satirised the townsfolk in a play called _Club-Law_, to which the Corporation were invited. The absence of good feeling which marked such an invitation explains the “town and gown rows” common at this period.

A less festive spirit than George Ruggle was Nicholas Ferrar,* who appears at Clare about the same time. Ferrar ranks with Herbert and Crashaw as the third of the mystics and pietists whom Cambridge sent out during the seventeenth century. He became famous as the head of what he called the “Protestant Nunnery.” It was established at Little Gidding, an out-of-the-way village in Huntingdonshire, and consisted of Ferrar, some members of his family, and some near relations, who devoted themselves to contemplation and works of piety. The neighbourhood of Little Gidding to Cambridge was probably felt in the University, and there is the strongest probability that men like Cosin and Andrewes came over from Cambridge very often, and went into retreat, as we say, with Ferrar. A man of this type was the great Peter Gunning,* Fellow of Clare and Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity. In 1661 he exchanged his offices for those of Regius Professor and Master of Corpus, which he soon left for St John’s.

While the new court of Clare was building, the Commonwealth came, and with it the mastership of Ralph Cudworth. This profound thinker held the chair of Hebrew with his mastership, and continued to hold it till his death in 1688. He is certainly one of the most extraordinary figures of his age at Cambridge, but his history and that of the band whose leader he was, belong more properly to the annals of Christ’s. Almost a contemporary of Cudworth’s was Archbishop Tillotson,* who, at this date in his career, was a Puritan, like many of the youth at Cambridge. He later found his true vocation in the Church of England, and his sermons have achieved a greater fame than Cudworth’s abstract treatises, although their merits are perhaps less.

Theophilus Dillingham succeeded Cudworth, and was Archdeacon of Bedford as well as master. He continued the buildings, and a successful completion was reached under the subsequent mastership of Samuel Blythe. From this time forward the history of Clare was peaceful and monotonous. It produced a very eccentric son in William Whiston, known as the admirable translator of Josephus. Whiston was an astronomer and a proficient mathematician. He preceded Sir Isaac Newton as Lucasian Professor, resigning his chair in 1711. He was always open to the influence of new and uncommon theories, and died a Baptist with a strong tendency to Fifth-Monarchy principles.

Clare was the college of that famous statesman, Thomas Holles Pelham,* Duke of Newcastle, whose personal peculiarities are ridiculed in Smollett’s _Humphrey Clinker_. Pelham was Chancellor of the University from 1748 to 1768, having previously filled the office of High Steward. His Chancellorship is the last important event in the history of the College. It has, since then, under the fortunate and prolonged rule of four masters, extending over a century and a half, maintained its ancient prestige, and now, although one of the smallest of the colleges in point of buildings, the number of its undergraduates is exceptionally large and shows no signs of decreasing. Among its present members it numbers several men of great eminence, of whom, to Cambridge men, the most familiar is the present Woodwardian Professor, Dr McKenny Hughes.

V

PEMBROKE COLLEGE

Modern architects have taken such delight in seeing what can be done with Pembroke that we have scarcely any vestiges of the old building. The long, low street front of the first court, a reminiscence of Oxford, with its double oriel, was refaced in 1726. It was the era of Gibbs and Burrough, and the treatment is therefore thoroughly conservative. But since then, Archbishop Rotherham’s fine, monastic plan has been ruthlessly spoiled. The oldest existing part is the Ivy Court, a pretty double range of rooms at the back of the Hall. The north side dates from 1633; the south, or Hitcham Building, from 1659, at which period Rotherham’s Library still formed the upper storey of the Hall, and the Chapel stood in the north-west corner of the first court. Bishop Wren’s chapel superseded the latter building after the Restoration. It was consecrated in 1667, and is in curious contrast with the same prelate’s chapel of 1632 at Peterhouse. His nephew, the great Sir Christopher Wren, was the architect of this building and the adjoining cloister, which is so pleasant a feature of the western side of the court. Wren’s genius is clearly visible in the stately unpretentious exterior; but inside, the chapel is cold and ineffective. Stained glass of the type which has been employed at the east end of St Paul’s Cathedral, is wanted to complete the design.

Pembroke escaped Essex and Wilkins, but it can hardly be congratulated on what it has acquired instead. The south side of the old court has perished; the quaint two-storied building which contained the Hall and Library, has disappeared, and, instead, we have the modern Hall, a very insignificant Gothic apartment quite out of keeping with the traditions of Pembroke. Mr Waterhouse’s street front, south of the chapel, is quite the worst modern building in Cambridge so far as appearance goes; his library and clock-tower are, fortunately, in a not very obtrusive position. Of late years, Mr G. G. Scott has built a very pretty court in a French Renaissance style at the back of the college, where Downing Street meets Tennis Court Lane, but, in building the Laboratory opposite in precisely the same style, he has committed an error which he would have done well to avoid. This court belongs to 1883; the Master’s Lodge, between it and the rest of the college, is by Waterhouse, and was finished ten years earlier.

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“O Domus antiqua et religiosa!” said Queen Elizabeth, as she passed by the gates of Pembroke Hall. Very few colleges deserve the epithet better, for Pembroke has been one of the most religious of all Cambridge foundations, and its history is closely connected with the Church. Like Clare, Pembroke owes its origin to a woman. Marie de St Paul, daughter of Guy, Count of St Paul and Châtillon, married Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke. There is a legend that the Earl was killed at a tournament on his wedding day, and Gray embodied the tradition in his noble Installation Ode—

“Sad Châtillon, on her bridal morn, That wept her princely love.”

History, however, has made short work with this story. At all events, after her husband’s death, the Countess retired from the world, and, among other charitable works, founded Pembroke Hall or, as she called it, the Hall of Valence-Mary. This name did not continue long in use; the college was very soon known, on the analogy of Clare, as Pembroke Hall, and the title of College was given to it in the last century. The foundation dates from 1347, when a Master, fifteen scholars and four Bible-clerks were established on the present site. Robert de Thorpe was first master.

Pembroke is intimately connected with the revival of learning in England. Henry VI. contributed generously to the foundation, and practically set it upon a new footing. Laurence Booth, who became master in 1450 and held the office until his death, was a man of great learning. His ecclesiastical promotion was rapid; he became Bishop of Durham in 1457, and Archbishop of York in 1476. Thomas Rotherham* succeeded him as Archbishop of York and Master of Pembroke. Rotherham, whose actual surname was Scott, was one of the most active promoters of learning in England. He had previously filled the sees of Rochester and Lincoln, and was Archbishop of York for twenty-one years. While Bishop of Lincoln, he had built the east side of the University Library, and he became the second founder of Lincoln College at Oxford. As Lord Chancellor of England, his political career was stormy. Fuller, in speaking of his library at Pembroke, says “Many have mistaken this for the performance of Richard the Third, merely because his Crest the _Boar_ is set up therein. Whereas the truth is that _Rotheram_ having felt the sharp Tuskes of that _Boar_ (when imprisoned by the aforesaid King for resigning the Great Seal of England to Queen Elizabeth, the relict of King Edward the Fourth) advanced his arms thereon that he might ingratiate himself.” Rotherham fell on more peaceful days when Henry VII. came to the throne. He resigned the mastership in 1488, and died of the plague at Cawood in 1501.

Curiously enough, the next master but two, Richard Foxe (* copy of Oxford pictures) founded Corpus Christi College at Oxford, just as Rotherham had re-founded Lincoln. He was at that time Master of Pembroke and Bishop of Winchester. Foxe was one of the greatest prelates of that great age. His benefactions to learning were innumerable and priceless; three colleges at Oxford and three at Cambridge count him among their benefactors; his splendid chantry at Winchester, one of the finest pieces of Renaissance sculpture which we possess, is entirely characteristic of this princely ecclesiastic. His enlightened religious views made him the friend and patron of the great scholars who flourished during the reign of Henry VII. He was also remarkable for his political activity; he was the chief agent in the establishment of the Tudor dynasty, and was one of the supporters of the throne against Perkin Warbeck’s rebellion. Ford, in his historical drama of _Perkin Warbeck_, drew Foxe’s character with admirable force. He died in 1528, old and almost blind, but still retaining all his vigour and adhering to his bishoprick with great tenacity. Foxe may be regarded as one of our earliest and wisest Reformers: he died too early for the final quarrel with Rome, but there can hardly be any doubt that he would have exerted his influence to prevent a formal breach.