Part 18

In the same spirit of discovery he applied himself to the study of Chaucer. Silently and secretly, as was his wont, he examined all the manuscripts within his reach, and then set to work to determine (1) what was Chaucer’s own work; (2) what is the real order of the _Canterbury Tales_. In the course of his researches it occurred to him that the rhymes used would prove a test of what was Chaucer’s and what was not. Without assistance from any one he wrote out a complete rhyme-list—an astonishing labour for an individual, when it is remembered that the _Tales_ contain some eight thousand lines, every one of which must have been registered twice, and many three or four times. The labour, however, was not thrown away. The rhymes employed turned out to be a true test, and Mr Bradshaw was enabled to publish in 1867 ‘The Skeleton of Chaucer’s _Canterbury Tales_: an attempt to distinguish the several Fragments of the Work as left by the Author.’ We regret to say that this pamphlet of fifty-four octavo pages is all that the world is ever likely to see of this splendid piece of work. With characteristic self-depreciation he says, in a note appended in 1871, ‘Mr Furnivall’s labours have put far out of date any work that I have ever done upon this subject’; but it is gratifying to turn to Mr Furnivall, and read, ‘There is only one man in the world, I believe, who thoroughly understands this subject, Mr Henry Bradshaw.’ He welcomed Mr Furnivall with habitual generosity, and placed in his hands, without reserve, all that he had got ready for the edition of Chaucer which he at one time intended to publish himself. Publication, however, was what he could rarely be persuaded to attempt. It was not criticism that he feared; but he had set up in his own mind such a lofty standard of excellence that he could not bear to abandon a piece of work while it was yet possible to add some trifling detail, or to correct some imperfection which his own fastidious taste would alone have been able to detect. It is sad to think how much has perished with him. His excellent memory enabled him to dispense with notes to a far greater extent than most persons, and those which he did put down were written on a system to which we fear it will be impossible now to find the key. What he actually published amounts to very little. When we have mentioned eight short octavo pamphlets, which he called ‘Memoranda’; a few papers printed by the Cambridge Antiquarian Society; some communications to _Notes and Queries_ and other periodicals; and an admirable edition of the new _Statutes for the University of Cambridge, and for the Colleges within it_, we fear that the list is complete. He had made important discoveries respecting the old Breton language in connexion with the early collection of canons known as the _Hibernensis_, and had collected materials for a Breton glossary which would have placed him in the first rank of philologers; he had worked at Irish literature with the special object of elucidating the history of early Irish printing; in knowledge of ancient service-books he was probably second to none, and at the time of his death he was writing a preface to the new edition of the Sarum Breviary; and, lastly, he had made considerable progress towards a catalogue of the fifteenth-century books in the University Library. On all these subjects considerable materials exist; but who is fit to take his place and make use of them?

_20 February, 1886._

WILLIAM HEPWORTH THOMPSON.

The death of the Master of Trinity College has severed almost the last of the links which connect the present life of Cambridge with the past. From 1828 until his death[114] in 1886 his connexion with his college was unbroken; for a brief absence soon after his election to a Fellowship, and the periods of canonical residence at Ely need hardly be taken into account. He was, therefore, up to a certain point, a typical Trinity man of the older school; a firm believer in the greatness of his college, and in the obligation laid upon him personally to increase that greatness by every means in his power. But he did not admire blindly. He could recognize, if he did not welcome, the necessity for changes in the old order from time to time; and he was known throughout the best period of his intellectual life as a Liberal and a reformer. He was a rare combination of a student without pedantry, and a man of the world without foppishness, or want of principle.

As an undergraduate he was fortunate in obtaining the friendship of men who afterwards became celebrated in the world of letters, most of them members of that famous coterie of which Tennyson and Hallam were the most notable figures. Indeed it is not impossible that the poet may have intended to include Thompson himself among those who

“held debate, a band Of youthful friends, on mind and art And labour, and the changing mart, And all the framework of the land.”

In their society he laid the foundation of that wide knowledge of literature, that keen interest in whatever was going forward, that habit of weighing all things in the nicely-adjusted balance of thoughtful criticism, which made what he wrote so valuable, and what he said so delightful. Nor, after he had obtained his Fellowship, and was free to do as he liked, was he content to become a student and nothing more. He was careful to add a knowledge of men and manners to what he was learning from books. He travelled abroad, and acquired a competent knowledge of more than one modern language; he was fond of art, and a good judge of pictures and sculpture. Nor did he forget the friends of his undergraduate days. He was a welcome, and we believe a frequent, guest at their houses both in town and country, where his fine presence, his courteous bearing, and his quiet, epigrammatic conversation were keenly appreciated. To the influence of these social surroundings he owed that absence of narrowness which is inseparable from a University career, if it be not tempered by influences from the outside.

Academic lives usually contain few details to arrest the biographer, and his was no exception to the rule. His father was a solicitor at York, and he was born in that city 27 March, 1810. He was educated at a private school, which he left when thirteen years old, and was then placed under the care of a tutor, with whom he remained until he came up to Trinity in the Michaelmas Term, 1828, as one of the pupils of Mr Peacock, afterwards Dean of Ely. To his watchful care and sound advice Thomson felt himself under deep obligation, and in after-life he used to describe him as “the best and wisest of tutors.” It had been at first intended that he should enter as a sizar; but this decision was reversed at the last moment, and he matriculated as a pensioner. He obtained a scholarship in 1830, and one of the Members’ prizes for a Latin Essay in 1831. At that time candidates for Classical Honours could not present themselves for the Classical Tripos until they had satisfied the examiners for the Mathematical. Thompson must have devoted a considerable portion of his time to that subject, for he appears in the Tripos of 1832 as tenth Senior Optime. In the Classical Tripos of the same year he obtained the fourth place, being beaten by Lushington, Shilleto, and Dobson, the first of whom beat him again in the examination for the Chancellor’s medals, of which he won only the second. He was elected Fellow of his College in 1834. His reputation as a scholar marked him out for immediate employment as one of the assistant-tutors; but for a time either no vacancy presented itself, or men senior to himself were appointed. Meanwhile he accepted a mastership in a school at Leicester, work which, we believe, he did not find congenial. In October 1837 he was recalled to Cambridge by the offer of an assistant-tutorship. In 1844, on the retirement of Mr Heath, he became tutor, an office which he held until he obtained the Regius Professorship of Greek in 1853. The other candidates on that occasion were Shilleto and Philip Freeman, but the electors were all but unanimous in their choice of Thompson. In the spring of 1866, on the death of Dr Whewell, he was appointed to the Mastership of Trinity College.

In attempting to estimate the value of his work as a classical teacher, it must be remembered that he was the direct heir of the system introduced into Trinity College by Hare and Thirlwall. We are not aware that he attended the lectures of the former, though he may well have done so, but we have heard from his own lips that he derived great benefit from those of the latter, which were as systematic as Hare’s had been desultory. Those distinguished scholars, while not neglecting an author’s language, were careful to direct the attention of their pupils to his matter. They did not waste time unduly on the theories of this or that commentator, though they had carefully digested them, but they showed how their author might be made to explain himself. In fine, the discovery of his thoughts, not the dry elucidation of his words, was the object of their teaching. Translation, again, received from them a larger share of attention than it had done from their predecessors. In this particular Thompson attained an unrivalled excellence. His translations never smelt of the lamp, though it may be easily imagined that this perfection had not been arrived at without much preliminary study. But, when presented to the class, toil was carefully kept out of sight. The lecturer stood at his desk and read his author into English, with neither manuscript nor even notes before him, as though the translation was wholly unpremeditated, in a style which reflected the original with exact fidelity, whatever the subject selected might be. He seemed equally at home in a dialogue of Plato, a tragedy of Euripides in which, like the _Bacchae_, the lyric element predominates, or a comedy of Aristophanes. He did not labour in vain. The lecture-room was crowded with eager listeners; and the happiest renderings were passed from mouth to mouth, and so made the round of the University. But we are glad to think that his fame as a scholar rests on a firmer foundation than traditions of the lecture-room, however brilliant. The author of his choice was Plato, and though ill-health and a too fastidious criticism of his own powers, which made him unwilling to let a piece of work go out of his hands so long as there was any chance of making it better, stood in the way of the complete edition, or, at any rate, translation, of the author, which he once meditated, yet he has left enough good work behind him to command the gratitude of future scholars. To this study he was doubtless directed, in the first instance, by natural predilection; but, if we mistake not, he was confirmed in it by the scholars above-mentioned, either directly or by their suggesting to him the study of Schleiermacher, whose writings were first introduced to English readers by their influence. That critic’s theory—that Plato had a comprehensive and precise doctrine to teach, which he deliberately concealed under the complicated machinery of a series of dialogues, leaving his readers to combine and interpret for themselves the dark hints and suggestions afforded to them—was followed by Thompson with great learning, unerring tact, and firm grasp. His editions of the _Phaedrus_ (1868) and the _Gorgias_ (1871) are models of what an edition, based on these principles, ought to be; and the paper on the _Sophistes_, long lost sight of in the _Transactions_ of the Cambridge Philosophical Society, but republished in the _Journal of Philology_ (1879), is a masterpiece. Nor must we omit an introductory lecture on the _Philebus_, written in 1855, and published in the same journal (1882), which is a piece of literature as well as a piece of criticism; or the learned and instructive notes to Archer Butler’s _Lectures on the History of Ancient Philosophy_, the first edition of which appeared in 1855.

Thompson discharged the difficult duties of a college tutor with admirable patience and discretion. Those who knew him imperfectly called him cold, hard, and sarcastic; and his bearing towards his brother Fellows gave occasionally, we must admit, some colour to the accusation. But in reality he was an exceedingly modest man, diffident of himself, reserved, and at first somewhat shy in the society of those whom he did not know well. Again, it must be recollected that nature had dealt out to him a measure of ‘irony, that master-spell,’ of a quality that a Talleyrand might have envied. Hence, especially when slightly nervous, he got into a habit of letting his words fall into well-turned sarcastic sentences almost unconsciously. The most ordinary remark, when uttered by him, became an epigram. We maintain, however, that he never said an unkind word intentionally, or crushed anybody who did not richly deserve it. For the noisy advocate of crude opinions, or the pretender to knowledge which he did not possess, were reserved those withering sentences which froze the victim into silence, and, being carefully treasured up by his friends, and repeated at intervals, clung to him like a brand. To his own pupils Thompson’s demeanour was the reverse of this. At a time when the older men of the University—with the exception, perhaps, of Professor Sedgwick—were not in sympathy with the rising generation, he made them feel that they had in him a friend who would really stand _in loco parentis_ to them. Somewhat indolent by nature, on their behalf he would spare no trouble; but, on the other hand, he would allow of no interference. ‘He is a pupil of mine, you had better leave him to me,’ he would say to the Seniors, when an undergraduate on his ‘side’ got into trouble; but it may be questioned whether many a delinquent would not have preferred public exposure to the awful half-hour in his tutor’s study by which his rescue was succeeded. Nor did his interest in his pupils cease when they left college. He was always glad to see them or to write to them, and few, we imagine, took any important step in life without consulting him.

When Thompson became Greek Professor, a canonry at Ely was still united to the office—an expedient for augmenting the salary which, we are glad to say, will not trouble future Professors. To most men, trained as he had been, the new duties thus imposed upon him would have been thoroughly distasteful; and we are not sure that he ever took a real pleasure in his residences at Ely. In fact, more than one bitter remark might be quoted to prove that he did not. Notwithstanding, he made himself extremely popular there, both with the Chapter and the citizens, and he soon became a good preacher. It is to be regretted that only one of his sermons—that on the death of Dean Peacock—has been printed; that one is in its way a masterpiece.

He became Master rather late in life, when the habits of a bachelor student had grown upon him; and he lacked the superabundant energy of his great predecessor. But notwithstanding, the twenty years of his Mastership were years of activity and progress; and he took his due share of University and College business. He was alive to the necessity for reform, and the statutes framed in 1872, as well as those which received the royal assent in 1882, owed much to his criticism and support. It should also be recorded that he was an excellent examiner, appreciating good work of very different sorts. Gradually, however, as his health grew worse, he was compelled to give up much that he had been able to do when first elected, and to withdraw from society almost entirely. Yet he did not become a mere lay figure. Even strangers who caught a glimpse in chapel of that commanding presence, the dignity of which was enhanced by singularly handsome features, and silvery hair[115], were compelled to recognize his power. There was an innate royalty in his nature which made his Mastership at all times a reality, and he contrived, from the seclusion of his study, to exert a stronger influence and to maintain a truer sympathy with the Society than Whewell, with all his activity, had ever succeeded in

establishing. His very isolation from the worry and bustle of the world gave authority to his advice; those who came to seek it felt, as they sat by his armchair, that they were listening to one who was not influenced by considerations of the moment, but who was giving them some of the garnered treasures of mature experience.

_9 October, 1886._

COUTTS TROTTER.

The Society of Trinity College had long been aware of the critical condition of their Vice-Master’s health, and his numerous friends in the wider circle of the University had shared their alarm. And yet, though everybody had been expecting the worst for several weeks, the news that the end had really come[116] fell upon the University with the stunning force of a wholly unexpected event. The full extent of the loss can only be measured by time; for the moment we can but feel that the University of Cambridge misses an influence which pervaded and animated every department of her affairs. For the last fifteen years no one has been so completely identified with what may be termed modern Cambridge; no one has been admitted to so large a share in her councils, or has devoted himself with such unremitting diligence to the administration of her complex organization.

Mr Trotter proceeded to his degree in 1859. He was thirty-seventh wrangler, and third in the second class of the Classical Tripos. It is evident, however, that his acquirements must not be measured by his place in these two Triposes, for he was soon after elected to a Fellowship in his college, where, as is well known, the proficiency of candidates is tested by a fresh examination. After his election he took Holy Orders, and devoted himself for a time to active clerical work. For this, however, after a fair trial, he found himself unsuited, and, resigning his curacy, he returned to college. Between the years 1865 and 1869 he spent a considerable portion of his time in German universities. In 1869 he became Lecturer in Natural Science in Trinity College, and in due course succeeded to the Tutorship. In 1874 he was elected a member of the Council of the Senate—a position which he occupied, without interruption, until his death. In early life he had been a staunch Conservative; but, as time went on, his views changed, and he became not only a Liberal in politics, but an ardent University reformer. In the latter capacity he threw himself energetically into the movement for reform which led to the present University and College statutes—to which, in their actual shape, he largely contributed. We have said that he was a Liberal and a reformer. This position placed him, it is almost needless to remark, in direct antagonism to many of those with whom he was called upon to act; but his conciliatory manners, his excellent temper, and his perfect straightforwardness, not only disarmed opposition, but enabled him to make friends even among those who differed from him most widely. In fact, what was sometimes called in jest ‘the Trotterization of the University’ was so complete that he had come to be regarded as indispensable; and his name will be found at one time or another on all the more important Boards and Syndicates. But it was not merely his knowledge of University business and detail that placed him there. He was gifted with an intelligence of extraordinary quickness. He could grasp the bearings of a complicated question swiftly and readily—disentangle it, so to speak, from all that was not strictly essential to it—and while others were still talking about it, doubtful how to act, he would commit to paper a draft of a report which was commonly accepted by those present as exactly resuming the general sense of the meeting. He was in favour of a wide enlargement of University studies, especially in the scientific direction—a course which was impossible without funds; but at the same time no man ever loved his college more dearly than he did—no man held more closely to the old idea of duty to the college as a corporation; and it may be added that no Vice-Master ever dispensed the hospitality incidental to the office with greater geniality.

We have dwelt on Mr Trotter’s University career at some length; but let it not be supposed that he was immersed in the details of University business to the exclusion of other subjects. Though modest and retiring almost to a fault, his interests were wide, and his knowledge extensive and accurate. He had no mean acquaintance with physical science, on which he gave collegiate lectures; he spoke and read several modern languages, and was familiar with their literature; he took great interest in music; he travelled extensively, and had a singularly minute knowledge of out-of-the-way parts of the Alps, and of the little visited country towns of Italy, to which he was attracted partly by their history, partly by their art-treasures. He wrote easily and clearly, though he never cared to cultivate a particularly elegant style; and as a speaker he was always forcible, and sometimes exceedingly happy in the utterance of tersely-worded, epigrammatic sentences, which resumed much thought in few words.

We have dwelt of necessity in these brief remarks almost exclusively on Mr Trotter’s public career. But there was another side to his character. He was a generous and warm-hearted friend, whose friendship was all the more sincere because it was so quiet and undemonstrative. Few had the rare privilege of his intimacy; but those few will never forget that kindly face, that bright smile of welcome, that charity which found excuses for everybody—that liberality which, while it eschewed publicity, was always ready to help the deserving, whether it was a cause or an individual.

_10 December, 1887._

RICHARD OKES.

The death of Dr Okes, though he had reached the mature age of ninety-one, has taken the University by surprise[117]. He had become an institution of the place. While everything around him changed, and old things became new, his venerable figure remained unaltered, like a monument of an older faith which has survived the attacks of successive iconoclasts, to tell the younger generation what manner of men the Dons of the past had been. He was fond of saying that the first public event he could distinctly remember was the battle of Trafalgar. He had been a Master at Eton when Goodall was Provost and Keate Head-master, and he had begun to rule over King’s College when the University of Cambridge differed as widely from what it is now as the Europe of Napoleon from its present condition. Still, his load of years sat so lightly upon him, his interest in what was going forward was still so keen, that there seemed to be no reason why he should not complete his century of life. The slight infirmities from which he suffered did not prevent him, until quite lately, from attending service in chapel, at least on Sundays; his hearing was but little affected; his sight was good; and he could still enjoy the society of his friends. Only a few days before his death he was reading Miss Burney’s _Evelina_ to his daughters. When it became known on Sunday last that he had really passed away, it was hard to believe that the sad news could possibly be true.