Part 5
Canon Law, the typical study of the Middle Ages, is the _raison d’être_ of Trinity Hall. William Bateman, Bishop of Norwich, founded the College of the Scholars of the Holy Trinity of Norwich in 1350, in order to furnish his diocese with secular priests. His college occupied substantially the same ground as it does to-day. The founder, who also has a claim to be one of the founders of Caius, did not live long to enjoy his work. He was sent by Edward III. on an embassy to Innocent VI., in one of the numerous attempts at arbitration which varied the Hundred Years’ War. While engaged in these negotiations the Bishop died. His death was due to the climate of Avignon, which, in that season of plague, was more than ordinarily pestilent. “Avenio ventosa,” says the doggrel rhyme, “cum vento fastidiosa, sine vento venenosa.” Englishmen, with their usual mistrust of Papal honesty, said that Bateman had been poisoned. He left his foundations of Trinity Hall and the new Gonville Hall in a very incomplete state, and his executor, Archbishop Simon of Sudbury, although he did what he could in the way of building, was too much occupied with his fatal position in the state to attend closely to the condition of the colleges. In fact, Trinity Hall, composed of a master, twenty fellows and three scholars, was very badly off. Early in the fifteenth century they complained to Archbishop Arundel of the insufficiency of their commons, and obtained a dispensation by which they were empowered to add twopence for each weekday and a groat on the Lord’s day.
Meanwhile, two of the masters of Trinity Hall are found among the list of bishops. These were the canonists Robert de Stretton, Bishop of Lichfield from 1360 to 1386, and Marmaduke Lumley, Bishop of Lincoln from 1450 to 1452. In the year 1525, Stephen Gardiner* became master. He was a native of Bury St Edmund’s and was a fellow of the college. In 1531, he was made Bishop of Winchester, but retained the mastership till his death, esteeming it a refuge to which, in those troublous times, he could always retire. He was, nevertheless, a little out of his reckoning. Although a reformer, he was of the conservative type and was not a _persona grata_ to Edward VI., who deprived him of both his mastership and bishoprick. His supplanter at Winchester was John Poynet; at Trinity Hall he was superseded by Walter Haddon, reputed to be the best Latinist of his time. Haddon was Professor of Law and Rhetoric and Public Orator, and, in addition to this, with the assistance of Sir John Cheke, compiled a new code of ecclesiastical law. His reforming activities gained him the Presidency of Magdalen College, Oxford, in 1552, from which he retired at Queen Mary’s accession. He died some years later and is buried in Christ Church, Newgate Street.
Mary’s reign brought back Gardiner to his college and diocese. Walter Mowse, the second Protestant master, was ousted to make way for the bishop. As Chancellor of England, Gardiner distinguished himself for his reactionary policy, a natural course in one who, having done all he could in the way of reform, knew what gratitude he had to expect from the other side. He died in 1555. There is no doubt that he was an energetic, pushing man who allowed little to stand in his way, and stories were told of how he canvassed for the see of Winchester, doing his best to embitter the last days of Bishop Foxe. He was the bishop who married Philip of Spain to Mary in Winchester Cathedral; and this, with his acts of persecution, have endeared him to the orthodox English historian. But we must make allowance for Protestant hatred, and remember that if such men as Gardiner, Pole, and Gaspar Contarini had lived a century before, we should have been spared the irregularities of the Reformation, while we reaped its advantages. Gardiner’s chantry-chapel is well known to all visitors of Winchester Cathedral. There are two portraits of him in Trinity Hall: one in the Combination Room, another in the Master’s Lodge. A somewhat less single-minded ecclesiastic was Thomas Thirlby,* fellow of the college, and first and only Bishop of Westminster. He was promoted in 1550 to Norwich, and to Ely in 1554, when he, too, gained some reputation as a persecutor of the new religion. Richard Sampson, Bishop of Lichfield, belongs also to this period.
Henry Hervey, who followed Gardiner, was a great builder, and we owe the Library to him. From his time onward the college was the legal centre of Cambridge, and helped to raise English law to a position which fully realised Bateman’s desire that England should not be “out-lawed” by other countries. As Canon Law became superseded by Civil Law, the original purpose of the college and its connexion with Norwich were quite forgotten. John Cowell, master from 1598 to 1611, was a great foe, however, to Sir Edward Coke and the common lawyers. His book on the King’s Prerogative was burned by order of the House of Commons. Another legal worthy of the time was Sir Robert Naunton, Public Orator, and author of _Fragmenta Regalia_, who had also some connexion with Trinity College. He is memorable for an insulting remark which he made to the Spanish Ambassador, Gondomar, on account of which he was kept a close prisoner in his own house, stoutly refusing to apologise.
The Regius Professorship of Civil Law became the practical monopoly of Trinity Hall in 1666, when Dr John Clark was elected to the office. It was only on the election of the present Professor Clark that the succession was broken. Of these professors, one, Dr George Oxenden, held the mastership and professorship together. Meanwhile, we find one or two bishops, notably William Barlow, Bishop of Lincoln from 1608 to 1614, whose name is familiar to controversialists on the subject of Anglican Orders. The beginning of the eighteenth century produced two more, Adam Otley, Bishop of St David’s and Richard Reynolds, Bishop of Lincoln. About the same time, Trinity Hall had the honour of educating Philip Dormer Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield (* W. Hoare). It would be interesting to know more about the life of this celebrated gentleman at Cambridge, but he doubtless employed his time in picking up miscellaneous knowledge and laying the foundations of his delightful style. I forgot to mention that another famous nobleman was a Trinity Hall man—Lord Howard of Effingham, who commanded the English fleet against the Spanish Armada. In Nathaniel, Lord Crewe,* Bishop of Durham, the college produced a devout prelate and Jacobite. He died in his ninetieth year (1633).
Lawyers of the eighteenth century are absolutely innumerable. Sir Nathaniel Lloyd,* master from 1710 to 1735, was King’s Advocate; his successor, Sir Edward Simpson,* was Dean of Arches. Sir John Eardley Wilmot,* Lord Chief Justice of England, was another noted member of the college. His life nearly spans the last century. Dr John Andrews,* Master of Faculties, dying in 1747, left the College £20,000, which was to be paid after the death of his two sisters and expended in building new wings to the river. Dr Samuel Halifax,* Professor of Law from 1770 to 1782, was clergyman as well as lawyer. Previously, he had held for two years the two University Professorships of Arabic. His elevation to the see of Gloucester in 1781 was a suitable reward of such versatility. He was followed in his Professorship by Dr Joseph Jowett, who made a garden out of the strip of ground at the angle formed by the outer walls of the old court and of the principal quadrangle. It faced the lane east of the cottage, and excited some ridicule. Archdeacon Wrangham’s epigram has been often quoted:
A little garden little Jowett made And fenced it with a little palisade; But when this little garden made a little talk, He changed it to a little gravel walk. If you would know the mind of little Jowett, This little garden don’t a little show it.
The list of legal celebrities in the last century is also adorned by the name of Lord Mansfield, whose bust, by Nollekens, is in the Hall.
We now come to the present century. Sir Alexander Cockburn (* Watts), Lord Chief Justice, was a member of the college during the earlier half, and the name of Sir Herbert Jenner Fust, master from 1843 to 1852, is also well known. Sir Henry Maine’s reputation is European. This great historian, lawyer and philosopher, occupied the chair of Civil Law from 1847 to 1854. When, in 1877, Dr Geldart died, he was elected Master, and died in 1888. During the last year of his life, he was Whewell Professor of International Law. There is a portrait of him in the Hall, by Lowes Dickinson. Needless to say, Trinity Hall is represented on the Bench of to-day, and the Lodge contains two portraits (by Dickinson) of Mr Justice Romer.
Literature pure and simple has never been well represented at “the Hall.” Thomas Tusser was educated here, but a great gap exists between the old-fashioned bucolic poet and the next writer. The name of Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton (* copy from Maclise) is, however, not inconsiderable. His part in nineteenth-century literature may be very largely ascribed to his Cambridge associations and friendships. And the growth of an essentially modern science has been stimulated by another Trinity Hall man, Henry Fawcett (* Rathbone), Postmaster General and Professor of Political Economy from 1863 to 1884. There is another portrait of him, by Professor Herkomer, in the Fitzwilliam Museum. And, speaking of the Fitzwilliam Museum, it must not be forgotten that the peer to whom that institution owes its foundation came from Trinity Hall also.
To the modern undergraduate Trinity Hall is known chiefly as the head of the river, a position which, until the present year, has been for some time its monopoly. However, it is also well known in the schools, and not only in the school of law. Under Dr Latham (* Holl and Dickinson) the college has increased in popularity, and, both in size and importance, has attained a place in the first rank of colleges.
VIII
CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE
One of the prettiest spots in the whole University is the tiny medieval court on the north side of Corpus. You have only to turn your back on the ugly Hall, and look at three sides of a venerable, low quadrangle clothed with ivy and stained with age, and you can imagine yourself back in the days of the Edwards, when the pious members of the Cambridge benefit societies founded the college. Times have changed, and the court has been repaired fairly often; but the place retains its medieval flavour. There is still the gallery which communicated between the college and St Bene’t’s Church, while St Bene’t’s was the college chapel; with the aid of a key, you may go straight from under the roof of Corpus into church, without leaving cover. And, in one corner of the court, the kitchen, with its great spit revolving in the draught, is a continual source of interest to all visitors. However, medieval Corpus was never very conspicuous, and, like most things medieval, it grew incommodious. Mr William Wilkins, an architect of some knowledge, who had taken his degree at Caius, was selected in 1823 to renew Corpus in the Gothic taste, then becoming fashionable. His design, which he executed between 1823 and 1827, was highly praised, and during the next ten years he left some notable marks of his hand in Cambridge. The great court of Corpus is a singular instance of the fluctuation of taste. What was then considered handsome—it was certainly audacious—is to-day an eye-sore. The proportions of the great court are noble, and everything is conceived on a grand scale. The Hall and Library are both fine apartments, and the Chapel is commanding; but the whole building is shallow, and its detail is flimsy and jejune. All Wilkins’ work, here, at King’s and at Trinity, deserves careful study; for it shows how the architects of the first half of the century, with the experience of past ages at their command, failed even in the elementary matter of imitation.
* * * * *
Corpus has the singular distinction of having been founded by a Gild. The Gild or Benefit Society was an important institution in medieval Cambridge, and each church had one attached to it. Somewhere towards the end of the thirteenth century, when the festival of Corpus Christi was become a recognised feast of the Church, a society of this kind was founded in the parish of St Bene’t, and took the title of Corpus Christi in honour of the Blessed Sacrament. What induced the corporation to found a college is unknown; its action is at all events a testimony to the love of learning which was spreading at this time among the middle classes. In 1352, it obtained a charter from Edward III. for the foundation of a college. The alderman of the Gild at this date was Henry, Duke of Lancaster, cousin to the King. One gild, however, was not sufficient to carry out the work of itself, and the Gild of Corpus Christi achieved its desire by uniting itself with the Gild of Our Lady, which was connected with St Mary’s by the Market, the present University Church. To this union the College owes its coat of arms. In two out of the four quarters we see the “pelican in her piety,” the emblem of the Blessed Sacrament; in the other two are the lilies emblematic of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Another interesting person connected with the foundation is John Goldcorne, an ex-alderman of the Gild of Corpus Christi. He had generously given some of his property to Bishop Bateman when the bishop removed Caius College to its present site. He gave Corpus the fine drinking-horn which still is the chief piece of plate in the rich collection belonging to the house. It was probably the horn used at feasts of the Gild; it is one of the best specimens of the kind in existence.
Thomas of Eltisley, a village between Cambridge and St Neots, was the first master. Like most other colleges, its medieval history is not very extraordinary. Like most other colleges, too, its scholars “kept” their chapels in a parish church, the adjacent church of St Bene’t. College and church have always been closely connected, and even to-day, when the college has ceased to bear its familiar name of Bene’t College, the advowson of St Bene’t’s is in its gift. In process of time, it built the south chancel aisle, which it reserved for itself. This was divided into two stories, an upper and an under, and was entered from the gallery which still exists between the church and the old court. Finally, in the sixteenth century, Sir Nicholas Bacon,* the famous Lord Keeper, who had been educated at Corpus, gave the structure of a chapel. This was built almost on the site of the present one. It is characteristic of the age that, to build this chapel, stone was taken from the dissolved abbey of Thorney and from Barnwell Priory.
Matthew Parker, master from 1544 to 1553, was the great ornament of the college at this period. He is more famous as Archbishop of Canterbury than as a don, but Corpus holds his name in great honour. His great collection of manuscripts is preserved in the Library. The bequest was accompanied by one of those odd provisions by which benefactors ensured the jealous care of their possessions after their death. If twenty-five manuscripts are lost, the collection is to go to Caius; if Caius is guilty of neglect, it passes to Trinity Hall. The provision is rigidly attended to, and the inspection of the manuscripts is an affair of great circumstance, for which the presence of the librarian, a fellow and a scholar is necessary. Perhaps the most historical document in the Library is the original draft of the Thirty-Nine Articles. Parker also left some very valuable plate to the college, cups and apostle-spoons. There is a portrait of him in the Hall, and another in the Master’s Lodge.
Corpus has a distinguished roll of Elizabethan worthies. Besides Sir Nicholas Bacon and Parker, we find the names of two dramatists, Christopher Marlowe, one of the greatest of all, and Giles Fletcher, the collaborator of Beaumont. The father of the latter was also a member of the college, and became Bishop, first of Bristol, then of London. George Wishart, the Scottish martyr, was here at some time early in the sixteenth century. In 1590 John Jegon* became master. Afterwards, as Bishop of Norwich, Jegon was not a great success: as Master of Corpus his strictness made him unpopular. There is a story that he fined some of the scholars for a breach of rules, and applied the proceeds to the repair of the college. One of the delinquents afterwards wrote on a wall of the college this couplet,
Dr Jegon, Bene’t College Master, Broke the scholars’ heads and gave the wall a plaster.
Beneath this elegant conceit Jegon wrote a distich of his own.
Knew I but the wag that wrote this verse in bravery, I’d commend him for his wit, but whip him for his knavery.
Jegon was Vice-Chancellor from 1596 to 1601, and his arms appear on the plaster ceiling of the old Senate House, now incorporated in the University Library. His brother Thomas succeeded him at Corpus and was also Vice-Chancellor in 1609. Both brothers died in 1618.
During the Commonwealth Richard Love* was Master, and was also Dean of Ely as long as deaneries were suffered to exist. At the Restoration, Peter Gunning became master for a year, and then passed to St John’s. Gunning’s part in Church History is well known, and his short residence may be esteemed an honourable item in the history of the college. Seven years after his time, another scholar of repute became master, John Spencer (* Van der Myn), Dean of Ely, and author of a book _De Legibus Hebraeorum_. Corpus has always been rich in ecclesiastics. It produced a second Archbishop of Canterbury in Thomas Tenison* who is famous for his interest in education and his benefactions to schools. In the next generation another Primate, Thomas Herring,* came from Corpus. An Archbishop of York belonging to the foundation was Richard Sterne, afterwards Master of Jesus and grandfather of the great sentimentalist. Matthias Mawson,* master from 1724 to 1744, was elevated in 1740 to the Bishoprick of Chichester and translated in 1754 to Ely. On the other hand, Samuel Wesley was also at Corpus, so that modern Methodism, the creation of his famous sons, may look with reverence upon the college.
The Master’s Lodge contains a very complete series of portraits, but the later masters are none of them very noticeable. It cannot be said that the heads of houses during the early part of the present century were interesting beings, although they themselves were not without positive convictions on the point. Dr John Lamb (* Sir W. Beechey), was master from 1822 to 1850, and supplemented his office with the Deanery of Bristol. His mastership was signalised by the entire rebuilding of the college under William Wilkins. Whether the copy of Raffaelle’s School of Athens (attributed to Poussin) which this radical builder presented to the college is sufficient compensation for the damage inflicted in a matter of doubt. The present buildings have nourished some excellent scholars. Of living celebrities the three brothers Perowne may be mentioned—Bishop, Master, and Archdeacon. The portrait of Dr E. H. Perowne in the Hall is by Rudolph Lehmann; that of his brother, the Bishop of Worcester, is by the Hon. John Collier. The late librarian, Samuel S. Lewis (* Brock) was a world-wide authority on gems. His collection, containing many of the finest engraved gems existing, now belongs to the college, forming a treasure little inferior to Archbishop Parker’s manuscripts. And, turning to the religious memories of Corpus, no one who appreciates a life of entire self-sacrifice and devotion will fail to pay a tribute to the portrait of Thomas Ragland, Fellow of the College, and missionary to Tinnevelly. It will be seen that the history of Corpus is throughout almost entirely ecclesiastical, and it is still a favourite college for undergraduates who wish to proceed to Holy Orders. Among its latest honours has been the elevation of its librarian, Dr Harmer, to the Bishoprick of Adelaide. Although one of the smaller foundations, its priceless collections give Corpus an importance second to that of very few colleges, while the unique history of its foundation singles it out from the rest.
IX
KING’S COLLEGE
Henry VI. is the most famous of the founders of colleges in Cambridge, but his plan has been adhered to least of all. King’s has gone through several vicissitudes. The magnificent chapel stood south, not north, of the original college. That college was to have consisted of four courts; the fourth was to be on the other side of the river, and a covered bridge was to lead to it, as to the present fourth court of St John’s. As at Wykeham’s Oxford College, with which King’s has so many points of resemblance, the west end of the chapel was to be supplemented with cloisters and an ample tower. Only one court was built, which now is part of the University Library. The college has been transferred to the other side of the chapel, and consists of a scattered series of more or less modern buildings. From some points of view, the change is to be regretted, but, had it not been made, we should have lost the unique view of King’s and Clare from the Backs, which disputes the honours of Cambridge with the Trinity lime walk.
King’s Chapel was very nearly a century in building. Henry VI. laid its foundation stone on July 25th, 1446, and the workmen continued at it till 1479 or thereabout. Edward IV. gave £1000 towards it, but the works lay idle till 1508, when Henry VII. came forward with £5000. Another £5000 was paid over by his executors in 1513, and in 1515 the chapel stood for the first time as it stands now. The stained glass was added under two contracts, one bearing date 1516, the second 1526. In 1536 the screen and most of the stalls were added, and in 1774 Essex spoiled the east end with some inferior Gothic wood carving, which, fortunately, has lately been removed.