XIXDOWNING COLLEGE

Sidney Sussex College

Ralph Symons, the great Cambridge builder whose name deserves to be more widely known than it is, was the architect chosen to superintend the works at Sidney. He was employed on Nevile’s Court at Trinity, and was, a year or two later, to begin operations in the second court of St John’s. Sidney, which was ready at the beginning of 1599, was quite comparable with those famous works of art. As usual, the architect did not attempt to manage a street-front. Here, however, instead of turning the back of his buildings to the street, as at Emmanuel, he constructed an oblong three-sided court, whose eastern side directly fronted the street. In 1628 Sir Francis Clerke of Houghton Conquest completed a second court on similar lines. The south side of one court thus became the north side of the other. Thiscommon side, which exactly bisects the building, was terminated by a gateway opening on the street and into either court. In this original plan the entrance to the Hall was immediately in the centre of the eastern range of the north court; the entrance to the Chapel occupied a similar position in the south court. We are still able to admire this graceful and simple plan. But of the original buildings the only remaining traces are the oriels in the garden-front of the Master’s Lodge. In 1776 Essex, who had for the last ten years been “improving” Cambridge out of knowledge, built a new chapel; and in 1830, while Dr Chafy was master—the names of these masters deserve to be handed down—it was decided to thoroughly remodel the college in the new Gothic style. This step was prompted simply by the admiration which Wilkins’ doings at Corpus, Trinity, and King’s had excited. Each college glowed with pious emulation, and Sidney chose for its destroyer Sir Jeffrey Wyattville, who had Gothicised a great part of Windsor Castle. Wyattville overhauled the college in the Vandal manner; removed all traces, save those I have referredto, of Symons’ obsolete work, and replaced it by the present pretentious and insipid structure which adorns the eastern side of Sidney Street. It is a comfort to know that a later generation has made amends for this criminal error of taste. A court, or rather two sides of a court, with cloisters, have been added in recent years by the late Mr John Loughborough Pearson. This range of buildings, not very obvious owing to the high walls behind which it stands, is of red brick, and, like many other new buildings in Cambridge, is in the style of the French Renaissance with English modifications. It is certainly one of Mr Pearson’s great successes, and is, moreover, a success in a line which he seldom attempted. The court—which contains, by the way, a very fine Combination Room—is one of the most retired spots in Cambridge, and in its studious shades it is possible to forget Wyattville’s ravages.

In 1589 died an excellent lady, Frances Lady Sussex, widow of the second Earl. She was the daughter of Sir William Sidney, and would in any case have achieved a negative distinction as the wife of Thomas Radcliffe and the aunt of Sir Philip Sidney. But in her willshe left a legacy of five thousand pounds, to be employed by her executors in the foundation of a college at Cambridge, or, in case the bequest were insufficient, in enlarging Clare Hall. Six years later, the executors bought a site from Trinity College. When Henry VIII. founded Trinity, he made over to it the lands of the Franciscan Friary which, until the dissolution, had occupied the space between the modern Sidney Street and the King’s Ditch. The buildings were apparently taken down and used as a quarry for Henry’s new college. Thus the site was vacant, and the executors, after making a preliminary payment of a hundred marks, took over the ground on a perpetual lease, and engaged to pay a rent of £13. 6s. 8d. yearly. These executors, the actual founders of Sidney, were the Earl of Kent and Sir John Harrington, the translator of Ariosto. The college was called the College of the Lady Frances Sidney Sussex, and took her arms, Radcliffe impaling Sidney. The pheon, the heraldic symbol of the Sidneys, is the badge of the college, and, like the eagle of St John’s and the silver crescent of Trinity Hall, has given its title to the college magazine of our own days.

The first master was appointed in 1598. He was Dr James Montagu,* and became Bishop of Winchester, where he died in 1618. But, in spite of this augury, the history of Sidney is the reverse of prelatical. Of late years, the college has somewhat retrieved its past record, but, on the whole, its distinction isPuritan. It is, however, a college whose history finds its centre in one event, and that event is vague and shadowy. In the college books, under the date April 23rd, 1616, is the following inscription, “Oliverus Cromwell, Huntingdoniensis, admissus ad commensum sociorum Aprilis vicesimo sexto; Tutore Magᵒ Ricardo Howlet.” Few colleges boast such a fellow-commoner. The note which follows, written in after years by a good Royalist, is worth transcribing: “Hic fuit grandis ille impostor, carnifex perditissimus, qui, pientissimo rege Carolo primo nefaria caede sublato, ipsum usurpavit thronum, et tria regna per quinque ferme annorum spatium, sub protectoris nomine, indomita tyrannide vexavit.” Vexavit, as Polonius would say, is good. No language is more abusive than aptly handled Latin! This “big impostor and most damn’d butcher” stayed at Cambridge till July, 1617, and then, like many great men, left without taking his degree. His contribution to the social life of his college has been stigmatised as discreditable, but this is probably invidious rumour and nothing more. The window of his room—which, by the way, dates from 1827 or thereabout—is still shown to the credulous. There is an admirable portrait of him in the hall, which was presented to the college, with a rather unnecessary parade of anonymity, by Mr Holles of the Hyde in Essex.

The great name of Cromwell must not, however, suffer us to forget the names of the goodand pious men whom Sidney has nurtured. Dr Edmund Calamy, the famous Nonconformist divine, was a member of the college. So was Thomas Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man. So, too, were Jones of Nayland, the revivalist and hymn-writer, and an even more famous Evangelical preacher, Thomas Cecil. Sidney had, indeed, a very conspicuous share in the revival of spiritual life at the end of the last century. On the other hand, the college produced, by way of an anomaly, Sir Roger l’Estrange, the Royalist pamphleteer, whose sympathies were certainly apart from his education. The laborious antiquary, Thomas Rymer of theFœdera, was also a Sidney man. In our own century it has been recorded that—

There was a young man of Sid. SussexWho stated that w + xWas the same as xw!So they said, “We will trouble youTo confine those ideas to Sid. Sussex.”

There was a young man of Sid. Sussex

Who stated that w + x

Was the same as xw!

So they said, “We will trouble you

To confine those ideas to Sid. Sussex.”

But any such misconception has been rectified by the present master, Mr Charles Smith, whose mathematical text-books are classics in their own branch of literature. And, among living members of the college, we may notice the present Bishop of Bloemfontein, Dr John Wale Hicks, who is not only celebrated for his equal skill in medicine and divinity, but, as tutor of his college and vicar of Little St Mary’s, has had perhaps the greatest spiritual influence on modern Cambridge life. Although Sidney is a small college, there is none which is so remarkablefor the patriotism and good-fellowship existing among its undergraduates; and, within very recent years, it has supplied the University with excellent athletes, and one of its members has become president of the Union.

James Wilkins, the builder of Downing, must be distinguished from the later William Wilkins, the gothic experimentalist. If the second Wilkins had worked in the manner of the first, we should have missed some valuable historical relics, but should have gained in other respects. Downing, with its heavy angularities and immense porticoes, is not a very great advance on the plans so cherished by Mr James Essex, but it bears the marks of a good intention, and is an excellently proportioned building. It was begun in 1807, but has never been finished, and now simply consists of two parallel ranges running north and south, with a wide space of lawn between them. Its situation is very remote, but to this it owes its chief beauty, the lovely park with its fine avenues. The view northwards fromthe park, embracing the fellows’ garden, and ending in the towers of the new Roman Catholic Church, is worth seeing, although the contrast of the classical college with one of the latest examples of modern Gothic work is somewhat inharmonious.

Downing is almost the youngest of Cambridge colleges, and its history is chiefly concerned with its foundation. At Gamlingay, in the only part of Cambridgeshire that can be called picturesque, there lived from about 1680 to 1749, a baronet named Sir George Downing. He had been the victim of a compulsory marriage. At the early age of fifteen, he had been married to his cousin Mary Forester, who herself was only thirteen. They never lived together, and in 1717, Sir George made a will by which he bequeathed his estates to some collateral relatives. This document contained the provision that, if his heirs died out, the estates were to be applied to the use of a college which his trustees should found in Cambridge. He nevertheless outlived the trustees, and, dying in 1749, left his property to his collateral heir, Sir Jacob Downing. Sir Jacob was married, but died without issue in 1764. His wife retained the estates, but this gave rise to a long lawsuit, and, at her death, Chancery pronounced the original will to be valid. The Charter was granted in 1800, but the buildings were not begun till 1807,and the college was not in working order till 1821.

Sir George Downing’s design had included a master and sixteen fellows. In addition—presumably to confer some prestige upon a late foundation—he had provided for two professorships in connection with the college, the Downing Professorships of Medicine and of the Laws of England. Although the influx of undergraduates was at first very small, the valuable law scholarships attracted many students in course of time. The second master, Mr Serjeant Frere,* was an eminent lawyer, and is still renowned as the first of college masters who dispensed their hospitality without too keen an eye to rigid selection. Dr Annesley, the first master, from 1805 to 1812, was the head of a college which had no corporate existence, and Mr Frere, for nine years, was in a similar position. Downing has the misfortune of being in a very remote, although charming situation, and the number of her undergraduates has never been very large. But her present society includes the Professor of Law, Dr Maitland; and her master, Dr Alexander Hill, is a distinguished ornament of the medical school. And, among the doctors who have been educated at Downing are the late Sir George Humphrey, Professor Latham, and one of the best known of living physicians, Professor Bradbury.

The memory of George Augustus Selwyn, the great Bishop, first of Melanesia, afterwards of Lichfield, is honoured in Cambridge by the latest of all the colleges. Selwyn, one of a famous Cambridge family, died in 1877; and in 1882, Selwyn College was opened. The object of the college is that which had, some time before, prompted the foundation of Keble—the provision of University education at a more moderate rate than had hitherto been the case. It is conducted on what is known as the hostel system; that is to say, its members, while enjoying all University privileges, have all their meals in common, and are supplied with most necessaries at fixed rates from the college buttery. This is, we may believe, the simple system out of which great foundations like Trinity grew; and, since Selwyn began it, one or two other colleges have pursued it with some success on a voluntary principle. At Selwyn, however, the hostel life is compulsory; and the college is known officially as Selwyn Hostel. It has not lived long enough to produce any great sons as yet, but its record is honourable, and we mayexpect much from it in the future.[8]Its buildings, forming two sides of a quadrangle, are of red brick, and were designed by Sir Arthur Blomfield, who also built the Master’s Lodge at the east corner of the enclosure. As the essence of the college’s existence is to provide accommodation for students, the buildings are devoted to rooms, and the Hall and Chapel were left to the last. For the first thirteen years of the history of the college, these necessities of college life were supplied by the low range of temporary buildings just inside the entrance gate. There, too, for some time to come the Hall will have to remain, a very simple room, whose only ornament is the portrait of Mr Arthur Lyttelton, late master and now vicar of Eccles. This, by Mr C. W. Furse, is a striking example of the New English school. In 1895, however, one of the wishes of the college was fulfilled, and the present noble Chapel was erected from Sir Arthur Blomfield’s design. It stands north of the Master’s Lodge, and is a very large and lofty building of red brick, with freestone dressings. The style is a free adaptation of English Perpendicular, the admirable window tracery being a remarkable feature. The interior is very good, and the very complete set of stalls, with their grotesque carvings and modern misereres, would do honour to a medieval collegiate church. Its consecration by the Bishop of Ely in October, 1895, was one of the mostimposing ceremonies which have been seen of late years in Cambridge. The late Archbishop of Canterbury and several other prelates assisted at the function, and the sermon at mid-day was preached by the Archbishop. If the pious founders of the older colleges had been able to be present, and had seen the whole college walk in procession round the quadrangle in the early morning, singing the sixty-eighth psalm, and had assisted at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist which followed, they would assuredly have thanked God that the traditions of their Church and of the University which was its daughter were preserved and cherished by more modern foundations.

Ridley Hall represents a school of thought somewhat different from that to which Selwyn owes its being, and is altogether a modern development in University life. Like Selwyn, it has an Oxford counterpart in Wycliffe Hall. It was founded in 1879 as a training college for those who, having already graduated from some college, wish to proceed to Holy Orders. Under the headship of Doctor Moule, it has already sent out several distinguished members of the Evangelical party, and has also been of great service to missionary societies. It has certainly proved itself a power in modern Cambridge, chiefly through the influence of its eminent principal; and has encouraged other religious bodies to attempt what is an accomplished fact in Oxford. The Presbyterian body are now building themselves a large theological collegeat the corner of the Madingley Road. The buildings of Ridley are not unlike those of Selwyn, and the Renaissance chapel with its picturesque iron turret is a pleasing object from most points of view. The architect of the older portion was Mr Charles Luck; the chapel and southern range were designed by Mr W. Wallace.

After many vicissitudes, Ayerst Hall has at length disappeared. Some years ago the Rev. W. Ayerst of Caius College established a small college on the hostel principle, which occupied the buildings now known as Queen Anne’s Terrace, between Parker’s Piece and the University Cricket Ground. In 1894 his students vacated these buildings for a new range between the Huntingdon and Madingley Roads, and their original home is now the offices of the University Correspondence College. Rather less than three years later, the venture was abandoned, and the new buildings were purchased for a colony of Benedictines. Since the building of the great church of Our Lady of the Assumption and the English Martyrs, which is so conspicuous a feature from the railway, the influx of Roman Catholic students has been much greater. In 1896 a Roman Catholic chaplaincy was founded in both Universities. The direct result of this measure was the purchase of Ayerst Hall and the establishment of a theological school for Roman Catholic undergraduates. This scheme is in its infancy, and its future remains to be seen. The new hostel is known as Edmund House.

Another abortive attempt was Cavendish College, founded in 1882, which took its name and coat-of-arms from the late Duke of Devonshire. By an irony of fate, it is the only collegiate building which the passer-by sees from the train—that is, unless he keeps a sharp lookout for King’s Chapel. It was, however, a mile from the nearest college, on the furthest outskirts of the town, and, after a precarious existence, it failed and was closed in 1891. Between 1891 and 1895 the curious might roam through its halls unchecked, inspect the deserted library and the singularly comfortable buildings, and muse on the names of departed occupants inscribed on the staircases. Some of its students went down; others joined other colleges. In 1895 it was bought by Mr J. C. Horobin of Homerton, who transferred to it his training-college for schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. Its part in University life is not over yet, but its proud title has been exchanged for the more suburban name of Homerton, and now only old-fashioned people call it Cavendish.

Lastly, there is Fitzwilliam Hall. The same desire which led to the foundation of Selwyn and Keble led to the passing of a grace by the Senate of both Universities, by which students were allowed to become members of the University without joining any particular college. Unattached students now form a considerable element at both Oxford and Cambridge. The necessity for a certain amount of combination goes, nevertheless, without saying; and its resultis Fitzwilliam Hall. A house opposite the Fitzwilliam Museum has been purchased, and has been turned into a club for non-collegiate students. There are a reading-room, lecture rooms, and rooms for the tutors, who are, for the most part, distinguished members of the older foundations. The non-collegiates have their own gown, their boat on the river, and their own clubs and societies; and, although some of their most promising members in time join other colleges, they have a distinct corporate life and status of their own. Thus, although Cambridge has in none of these respects been in front of her traditionally conservative sister, she has at all events followed not very far behind her in any.

A few words must be devoted to these foundations, which, it cannot be doubted, are destined to play so important a part in the future life of the University. In the last chapter, I said that some of the founders would have rejoiced to see a ceremony so much in keeping with traditional usage as the consecration of Selwyn Chapel. It is at least doubtful whether Henry VI. would have looked with approval on the lady students who are so assiduous worshippers at his chapel; and even his imperious consort, the foundress of Queens’, and the Lady Margaret herself, with her rooms in Christ’s, would have probably hesitated to admit their own sex to the privileges of University life. But “the old order changeth,” and colleges for women are not only accomplished facts, but facts which are very lively indeed. Till within the last half century, the University’s estimate of the rights of women was very oriental: unmarried fellows were the rule, and masters’ wives formed a very distinct social clique. But the breaking-down of these barriers came in time, and, with the ensuing civilisation, came the project for giving women the privileges of University education. “Youknow what women’s minds are,” wrote Erasmus scornfully of his patroness to a friend. The Professors who to-day occupy Erasmus’ numerous chairs have plenty of opportunity of seeing that women’s minds are not to be dismissed in a phrase. At any rate, woman has stormed Cambridge, and made a considerable breach in the fortifications, and the most doctrinaire of conservatives cannot keep her from the closely guarded citadel of the degree.

Girton is the earlier of the two colleges. It was started at Hitchin in 1869, and was removed to Cambridge in 1873. Even then it planted itself outside the hallowed precinct, on the brow of a hill, beside the straightest of all straight roads. Every Girton student knows, to her cost, the long avenue of telegraph posts which separates her from Cambridge; and although this approach, in fine weather, provides excellent landscapes in Hobbéma’s best manner, in wet weather it is exceptionally dismal. She has her compensation, however, in the beautiful view which her college commands; and the buildings, although externally of rather various merit, are inside as comfortable as any in modern Cambridge. The style of the building is a mixed Gothic, and the older parts have a very mellow, aged look, but the entrance tower and its wings are built of a singularly disagreeable brick, which, one may hope, will in time be concealed by ivy or some other creeper. The college takes its name from the village of Girton, about half a mile to the north. The church of Girton is worth seeing.

Newnham, which is in Cambridge itself, is a later foundation, but its progress has been astonishing. It also takes its name from a suburban village which has gradually become part of the town. The buildings of Newnham form a very imposing array, and are a remarkable contrast, with their Renaissance gables, to the Gothic buildings of Selwyn, just across the road. Mr Basil Champneys has produced in them one of the best modern imitations of French Renaissance; and their outline, seen at a favourable distance, would not be unworthy of Chambord or Chenonceaux. The oldest part is the Old Hall, forming the south-eastern angle of the college; this belongs to 1875. Then came Clough Hall on the north side. Sidgwick Hall followed it, and completed this side, and, in 1894, two sides of a quadrangle were finished and the Old Hall joined to the rest by the erection of the Pfeiffer Building. In this latest part of the college is the principal gateway, now closed by a double gate of beautiful ironwork, in memory of the first principal, Miss Clough. In the hall are portraits of Miss Clough, Professor and Mrs Sidgwick, and Miss M. G. Kennedy, by Mr J. J. Shannon, and one (by Richmond) of Miss Helen Gladstone, who till lately was one of the leading Newnham dons. Young as they are, both Girton and Newnham have their history, and are able to inspire their students with a patriotism which is the natural result of extraordinary perseverance and hardly-won victories.

Newnham College

Fond tradition would compel us to accept the so-called School of Pythagoras as thefons et origoof the medieval University. However, the legend does not go for very much, and we may suppose that, until the foundation of several colleges brought about the necessity of a common centre, education was carried on in the numerous monastic houses or by private teachers at their own lodgings. The present schools, within the limits of the University Library, are probably in part of the fourteenth century, but, for the most part, belong to the latter half of the next century. They are not very conspicuous, and probably ninety-nine out of a hundred Cambridge men have never been inside them, as the majority of public examinations are held in the Senate House and the various large halls of which thetown is full. They are, moreover, so incorporated in the Library as to form part of the building, and have no very distinctive mark.The Senate HouseThe architectural history of the Library is singularly complex. It occupies two quadrangles north of and running parallel with King’s Chapel. The first of these is the quadrangle of the schools, and is entered from the open space between the Senate House and King’s; the second occupies the site of the original quadrangle of King’s, and is entered from the opposite side. Mr G. G. Scott has restored the old gateway with some success, and it forms a good contrast to the opposite gateway at Clare. Round these courts are grouped the very various Library buildings. The Library itself is entered from the eastern side, to which it presents a very stiff classical front. Somewhere between 1470 and 1480, the great prelate, Thomas Rotherham, then fellow of King’s and Bishop of Lincoln, built a Perpendicular façade on this side; and this was the beginning of the buildings. Hitherto the few books which the Library contained, mostly bequeathed by Dr Richard Holme in 1424,had been placed in the present south gallery on the first floor of the quadrangle. The opposite gallery was then the Senate House. The western gallery, above the school of Canon Law, overlooked the Court of King’s. Rotherham thus completed the first quadrangle, and, until the eighteenth century, the Library was contained in the eastern, southern and western rooms. Mr Clark, in his picturesque notes on Cambridge, assures us that it must have been hopelessly neglected. The days of building prelates were long past when, in 1715, George I., for some unknown reason, purchased the library of Dr John Moore, Bishop in succession of Norwich and Ely, and presented it to the University. Just about the same time, he had sent a regiment to enforce loyalty on Oxford. The epigrams which passed between the Tory and Whig Universities on this occasion have been so often quoted as to need no repetition. The Oxford epigram takes the palm for neatness, but the Cambridge retort was the last word on the subject.However, although King George’s gift cannot be valued too highly as a benefaction toCambridge, and was also an incentive to wit of a very felicitous order, it was in one way rather unfortunate. The books were many; accommodation was small. It was proposed to place the addition in what was then the Senate House, and to build a new meeting-place for the University. Mr Burrough of Caius submitted a plan for the new Senate House, of which we can see the result to-day. The quadrangle was thus entirely given over to the Library. It must have formed one of the most beautiful in Cambridge; to-day the western room, running between the two courts, has one of the best interiors in any library. But the age was hostile to medieval buildings. With architects like Burrough and Gibbs—excellent architects, both of them—carrying out their classical designs on either side, the Library was not suffered to remain unmolested. The University decided to harmonise it with these structures. In 1754 Rotherham’s front was destroyed, and the present Georgian façade was put up, which, after all, harmonises very badly with the Senate House. Rotherham’s gateway was bought by the owner of Madingley Hall, and is now theentrance to the stables there. It is much to be regretted, for the present aspect of the Library is singularly ignoble. The interior, however, offers a better contrast. From the classical east room, which, with all its plastered ugliness, is certainly stately and not inappropriate, we pass into the Catalogue Room, once the Senate House. Somebody adorned this room with a plaster ceiling in the last century, but the old timber roof is being restored. In the west room, which contains some valuable woodwork, we go back further into antiquity, and, when we have completed the circuit of the Library, we shall have seen a series of buildings which, in their diversity, are thoroughly characteristic of Cambridge.The present century has added enormously to the Library. King’s transferred itself finally to the other side of the chapel when Wilkins finished his range of buildings—that is, approximately in 1830. Soon after this the importantannexewhich now constitutes the whole north side of the Library was added. Its architect was Mr C. R. Cockerell. It is a colossal building, and its external ugliness may be fullyappreciated from the old King’s quadrangle, where all the buildings in front of it have been cleared away. Its interior, almost entirely devoted to theology, is as fine and imposing as its exterior is hideous, and is, moreover, a very agreeable room for students. Here the more remarkable manuscripts are exhibited, among which the famous Codex Bezae has the place of honour. Theodore Béza, whose name is in the first rank of Biblical critics, saved it from the sack of the monastery of St Irénée at Lyons in 1562, and presented it to the University—a gift worthy of the academy in which Erasmus had laid the foundations of Scriptural study. At the west end of the same building are the statues of George I. (by Rysbrack) and George II. (by Wilton) which used to stand in the Senate House. Cockerell’s work finds its antithesis in the opposite side of the court, which was rebuilt by Sir Gilbert Scott on a thoroughly medieval plan. Scott also added a second storey to this side, which, like Cockerell’s building, was continued into the eastern court. He also entirely refaced the front opposite King’s Chapel. The effect is uniform,but gloomy. His son completed the existing Library by restoring the western façade. The rooms on the ground floor are also appropriated to books, principally modern and lighter literature, but contain nothing worth seeing. Cockerell’s building is an exception, for its ground floor is occupied by the Woodwardian Museum of Geology.In spite of the misfortunes which it brought about, the Senate House is one of those buildings which gave Cambridge its greatest dignity. One may hesitate to compare it with the Radcliffe Library at Oxford, which was finished about twenty-five years later, but it is largely due to the same architect and is certainly an addition to his credit. Gibbs had, however, only a small share in the work, for Burrough is its real designer. It is an oblong building, with entrances on the east and on the middle of the south sides. It has a double range of windows throughout, save on the west side, where they are blank. Those in the upper storey are round-headed, those in the lower are square-headed and are surmounted by plain architraves, alternately round and pointed. Thewhole building is surrounded by an order of composite pilasters, cut square save near the doors, where they are round and fluted. Above the cornice is a balustrade, broken judiciously by the pediments of the entrances, which give the building its distinctive feature. The whole is one of the best specimens of early Georgian architecture in England, and the interior is perfectly consonant with the simple grandeur of the outside. The oak galleries suit the building admirably. At the east end, near the door, are the statues of the Duke of Somerset, Chancellor at the Revolution, and of William Pitt: the first by Rysbrack, the second by Nollekens.After the Senate House, geographically and in point of time, comes the Pitt Press in Trumpington Street, a very glorious achievement of the early Gothic revivalists. Mr Bowes’ list, published a year or two ago, is the monumental record of Cambridge printing, but, when the Pitt Press was founded, the traditions of John Siborch, who had set up a press in the University about 1521, had been almost forgotten. Even since then, thePitt Press, although the parent of Professor Jebb’s edition of Sophocles and other masterpieces of erudition, has scarcely proved itself the rival of the Clarendon. Its origin is curious. After the Great Commoner’s death, a subscription fund was started to commemorate him, the immediate results of which were the statues in Westminster Abbey and Hanover Square. The rest of the money was employed in building the Pitt Press. In the chronological order of works of the date, it stands just after Wilkins’ screen at King’s, and just before Rickman’s court at St John’s. Its architect was Edward Blore, and it was finished in 1833. It is not uglier than most buildings of the period, and the gateway tower looks well at a sufficient distance. This tower, by the way, has often given rise to the impression that it is an ecclesiastical building of some kind, and it is known generally as the “freshman’s church.” The hoax used at one time to be practised on unsuspecting young gentlemen during their early days of residence, but the epithet is now too well known to be misleading.Further on, and on the same side of TrumpingtonStreet, is the Fitzwilliam Museum. In 1816 died Richard, Viscount Fitzwilliam, who bequeathed his library and pictures to the University. He left also £100,000 for the building of a museum to receive them. His princely benefaction was, of course, accepted; and, pending the erection of a building, the collections were deposited in the old Perse School, now the Engineering Laboratory. Building was not begun till late in the thirties, when Basevi was employed to execute the present design. Basevi, however, fell from the great tower of Ely before the work was finished, and what he had begun was continued by Mr Cockerell. This architect had earned a dubiously just reputation for his proceedings at the University Library; here he had an excellent plan to work on, and did justice to it. The Fitzwilliam Museum, with the exception of certain decorations, was completed in 1847; the collections, augmented meanwhile by private bequests, were brought from the Perse School in 1848. Differences of opinion exist as to the merit of the building and the collections, but there can be no doubt that the façade is,after that of St Paul’s, one of the best of its kind anywhere. It is astonishingly good for its period. The decoration of the entrance hall is splendid but meretricious, and the lavish profusion of coloured marbles is almost suspicious. A statue of the Prince Consort is the cynosure of this brilliancy, and there is a portrait of him in the basement, dressed in his Chancellor’s robes, with a red curtain and the great gate of Trinity in the background. For the most part the basement is devoted to the University Museum of Antiquities, the nucleus of which was bequeathed by Samuel Disney of the Hyde, Essex. In memory of this gentleman has been founded the Disney Professorship of Archæology. On the ground-floor also is the valuable Fitzwilliam Library, and a very perfect library of musical works. In one of the rooms part of the valuable collection of engravings is exhibited. This comprises specimens of early Flemish and German artists, Albert Dürer, the Little Masters of Germany, and most of the best workers in wood-cut, steel-engraving, and mezzotint. Others may be found upstairs among the pictures. The pictures are of various merit, and many arecopies. The fine Paul Veronese, “Mercury turning Aglauros into stone,” which faces the principal door of the west gallery, is undoubtedly genuine, and there are some good examples of the Venetian school, especially two small pictures attributed to Palma the younger. Lovers of early Italian art will find a small Madonna and Child by Pinturicchio, while the disciples of the now unpopular Bolognese school will admire the picture of St Roch and the Angel, by Annibale Caracci. The room also contains a doubtful Rembrandt, two exquisitely finished little pictures by Gerard Douw, some good Ruysdaels, a Teniers or two, and a picture which, legend says, is the earliest Murillo in existence. There are also portraits by Gainsborough and Hogarth.The south room is even more miscellaneous. It is presided over by a vast copy of a Veronese, probably by the artist’s brother, opposite which, on either side of the entrance from the main gallery, are two portraits of the school of Holbein, one of a bygone Fitzwilliam. The other was given by the executors of the late Dean of Lincoln, and represents a person unknown.Besides these, there are numerous small pictures of the late Italian type, and views of Venice by Canaletto and Zuccarelli. A very admirable Raeburn will appeal to all lovers of portrait art, and deserves wider fame. But the gem of the whole collection, a series of water-colours by Turner, is in this room. Mr Ruskin generously presented the University with these, and they may be reckoned among its most priceless treasures. In the eastern continuation of the room is the collection of small pictures given by Mr Daniel Mesman in 1834. Some of these, including a small landscape attributed to Ruysdael and some delicate pictures by Adam Elzheimer, are of considerable value; but the rest are somewhat devoid of interest. On the south wall is a set of small pictures of the French school, mostly by Boucher, but two are attributed to Watteau, and two to Greuze. They are, however, of no great worth. And the rooms on the opposite side of the building are very uninteresting. Sir John Millais’ famous “Bridesmaid” is in the western room of the two, in company with some English landscapes, Mr Watts’ portrait of the late Duke of Devonshire,and Mr Richmond’s portrait of the present Bishop of Durham. The eastern room is occupied by an immense model of the Taj Mehál, and by some very early Italian pictures, the most prominent of which is by Cosimo Rosselli, the painter whose startling use of colour was so acceptable to Pope Sixtus IV. Under the curatorship of Professor Colvin and the late Professor Middleton, the interest of the Museum was much increased; and the present curator, Dr James, the well-known theologian and antiquarian, has followed in their footsteps.Since the days of Lord Fitzwilliam’s bequest, the University’s ardour has been turned in the direction of science. Most of the public buildings since then, such as the huge laboratories and Anatomical Museum (a work of Salvin’s) are devoted to that interest, and the visitor will find them more utilitarian than anything else. In speaking of Pembroke, I have already referred to Mr Scott’s façade to the Chemical Laboratory. The archæologist, however, will be greatly relieved to find the beautiful timber roof of the Perse school still existing where he least expects it—namely, in the EngineeringLaboratory. These buildings, however, and others, such as the Observatory in the Madingley Road, and Sir Digby Wyatt’s extraordinary façade at Addenbrooke’s Hospital, which, the famous “Cambridge Freshman” was gravely informed, was the Vice-Chancellor’s official residence, speak for themselves. Not the least important feature of modern Cambridge is the unobtrusive red-brick building in Mill Lane, occupied by the University Extension Syndicate. Not remarkable in itself, it is the visible sign of the aim of the modern University not to keep its cherished learning to itself, but to distribute its advantages to others. Whether or no the idea expressed by a far-sighted don in the last century, when he said that each town ought to have its university, will be realised, is a possibility that rests on the knees of the gods; but the means are certainly in use, and the wish is in a fair way of fulfilment.

The Senate House

The architectural history of the Library is singularly complex. It occupies two quadrangles north of and running parallel with King’s Chapel. The first of these is the quadrangle of the schools, and is entered from the open space between the Senate House and King’s; the second occupies the site of the original quadrangle of King’s, and is entered from the opposite side. Mr G. G. Scott has restored the old gateway with some success, and it forms a good contrast to the opposite gateway at Clare. Round these courts are grouped the very various Library buildings. The Library itself is entered from the eastern side, to which it presents a very stiff classical front. Somewhere between 1470 and 1480, the great prelate, Thomas Rotherham, then fellow of King’s and Bishop of Lincoln, built a Perpendicular façade on this side; and this was the beginning of the buildings. Hitherto the few books which the Library contained, mostly bequeathed by Dr Richard Holme in 1424,had been placed in the present south gallery on the first floor of the quadrangle. The opposite gallery was then the Senate House. The western gallery, above the school of Canon Law, overlooked the Court of King’s. Rotherham thus completed the first quadrangle, and, until the eighteenth century, the Library was contained in the eastern, southern and western rooms. Mr Clark, in his picturesque notes on Cambridge, assures us that it must have been hopelessly neglected. The days of building prelates were long past when, in 1715, George I., for some unknown reason, purchased the library of Dr John Moore, Bishop in succession of Norwich and Ely, and presented it to the University. Just about the same time, he had sent a regiment to enforce loyalty on Oxford. The epigrams which passed between the Tory and Whig Universities on this occasion have been so often quoted as to need no repetition. The Oxford epigram takes the palm for neatness, but the Cambridge retort was the last word on the subject.

However, although King George’s gift cannot be valued too highly as a benefaction toCambridge, and was also an incentive to wit of a very felicitous order, it was in one way rather unfortunate. The books were many; accommodation was small. It was proposed to place the addition in what was then the Senate House, and to build a new meeting-place for the University. Mr Burrough of Caius submitted a plan for the new Senate House, of which we can see the result to-day. The quadrangle was thus entirely given over to the Library. It must have formed one of the most beautiful in Cambridge; to-day the western room, running between the two courts, has one of the best interiors in any library. But the age was hostile to medieval buildings. With architects like Burrough and Gibbs—excellent architects, both of them—carrying out their classical designs on either side, the Library was not suffered to remain unmolested. The University decided to harmonise it with these structures. In 1754 Rotherham’s front was destroyed, and the present Georgian façade was put up, which, after all, harmonises very badly with the Senate House. Rotherham’s gateway was bought by the owner of Madingley Hall, and is now theentrance to the stables there. It is much to be regretted, for the present aspect of the Library is singularly ignoble. The interior, however, offers a better contrast. From the classical east room, which, with all its plastered ugliness, is certainly stately and not inappropriate, we pass into the Catalogue Room, once the Senate House. Somebody adorned this room with a plaster ceiling in the last century, but the old timber roof is being restored. In the west room, which contains some valuable woodwork, we go back further into antiquity, and, when we have completed the circuit of the Library, we shall have seen a series of buildings which, in their diversity, are thoroughly characteristic of Cambridge.

The present century has added enormously to the Library. King’s transferred itself finally to the other side of the chapel when Wilkins finished his range of buildings—that is, approximately in 1830. Soon after this the importantannexewhich now constitutes the whole north side of the Library was added. Its architect was Mr C. R. Cockerell. It is a colossal building, and its external ugliness may be fullyappreciated from the old King’s quadrangle, where all the buildings in front of it have been cleared away. Its interior, almost entirely devoted to theology, is as fine and imposing as its exterior is hideous, and is, moreover, a very agreeable room for students. Here the more remarkable manuscripts are exhibited, among which the famous Codex Bezae has the place of honour. Theodore Béza, whose name is in the first rank of Biblical critics, saved it from the sack of the monastery of St Irénée at Lyons in 1562, and presented it to the University—a gift worthy of the academy in which Erasmus had laid the foundations of Scriptural study. At the west end of the same building are the statues of George I. (by Rysbrack) and George II. (by Wilton) which used to stand in the Senate House. Cockerell’s work finds its antithesis in the opposite side of the court, which was rebuilt by Sir Gilbert Scott on a thoroughly medieval plan. Scott also added a second storey to this side, which, like Cockerell’s building, was continued into the eastern court. He also entirely refaced the front opposite King’s Chapel. The effect is uniform,but gloomy. His son completed the existing Library by restoring the western façade. The rooms on the ground floor are also appropriated to books, principally modern and lighter literature, but contain nothing worth seeing. Cockerell’s building is an exception, for its ground floor is occupied by the Woodwardian Museum of Geology.

In spite of the misfortunes which it brought about, the Senate House is one of those buildings which gave Cambridge its greatest dignity. One may hesitate to compare it with the Radcliffe Library at Oxford, which was finished about twenty-five years later, but it is largely due to the same architect and is certainly an addition to his credit. Gibbs had, however, only a small share in the work, for Burrough is its real designer. It is an oblong building, with entrances on the east and on the middle of the south sides. It has a double range of windows throughout, save on the west side, where they are blank. Those in the upper storey are round-headed, those in the lower are square-headed and are surmounted by plain architraves, alternately round and pointed. Thewhole building is surrounded by an order of composite pilasters, cut square save near the doors, where they are round and fluted. Above the cornice is a balustrade, broken judiciously by the pediments of the entrances, which give the building its distinctive feature. The whole is one of the best specimens of early Georgian architecture in England, and the interior is perfectly consonant with the simple grandeur of the outside. The oak galleries suit the building admirably. At the east end, near the door, are the statues of the Duke of Somerset, Chancellor at the Revolution, and of William Pitt: the first by Rysbrack, the second by Nollekens.

After the Senate House, geographically and in point of time, comes the Pitt Press in Trumpington Street, a very glorious achievement of the early Gothic revivalists. Mr Bowes’ list, published a year or two ago, is the monumental record of Cambridge printing, but, when the Pitt Press was founded, the traditions of John Siborch, who had set up a press in the University about 1521, had been almost forgotten. Even since then, thePitt Press, although the parent of Professor Jebb’s edition of Sophocles and other masterpieces of erudition, has scarcely proved itself the rival of the Clarendon. Its origin is curious. After the Great Commoner’s death, a subscription fund was started to commemorate him, the immediate results of which were the statues in Westminster Abbey and Hanover Square. The rest of the money was employed in building the Pitt Press. In the chronological order of works of the date, it stands just after Wilkins’ screen at King’s, and just before Rickman’s court at St John’s. Its architect was Edward Blore, and it was finished in 1833. It is not uglier than most buildings of the period, and the gateway tower looks well at a sufficient distance. This tower, by the way, has often given rise to the impression that it is an ecclesiastical building of some kind, and it is known generally as the “freshman’s church.” The hoax used at one time to be practised on unsuspecting young gentlemen during their early days of residence, but the epithet is now too well known to be misleading.

Further on, and on the same side of TrumpingtonStreet, is the Fitzwilliam Museum. In 1816 died Richard, Viscount Fitzwilliam, who bequeathed his library and pictures to the University. He left also £100,000 for the building of a museum to receive them. His princely benefaction was, of course, accepted; and, pending the erection of a building, the collections were deposited in the old Perse School, now the Engineering Laboratory. Building was not begun till late in the thirties, when Basevi was employed to execute the present design. Basevi, however, fell from the great tower of Ely before the work was finished, and what he had begun was continued by Mr Cockerell. This architect had earned a dubiously just reputation for his proceedings at the University Library; here he had an excellent plan to work on, and did justice to it. The Fitzwilliam Museum, with the exception of certain decorations, was completed in 1847; the collections, augmented meanwhile by private bequests, were brought from the Perse School in 1848. Differences of opinion exist as to the merit of the building and the collections, but there can be no doubt that the façade is,after that of St Paul’s, one of the best of its kind anywhere. It is astonishingly good for its period. The decoration of the entrance hall is splendid but meretricious, and the lavish profusion of coloured marbles is almost suspicious. A statue of the Prince Consort is the cynosure of this brilliancy, and there is a portrait of him in the basement, dressed in his Chancellor’s robes, with a red curtain and the great gate of Trinity in the background. For the most part the basement is devoted to the University Museum of Antiquities, the nucleus of which was bequeathed by Samuel Disney of the Hyde, Essex. In memory of this gentleman has been founded the Disney Professorship of Archæology. On the ground-floor also is the valuable Fitzwilliam Library, and a very perfect library of musical works. In one of the rooms part of the valuable collection of engravings is exhibited. This comprises specimens of early Flemish and German artists, Albert Dürer, the Little Masters of Germany, and most of the best workers in wood-cut, steel-engraving, and mezzotint. Others may be found upstairs among the pictures. The pictures are of various merit, and many arecopies. The fine Paul Veronese, “Mercury turning Aglauros into stone,” which faces the principal door of the west gallery, is undoubtedly genuine, and there are some good examples of the Venetian school, especially two small pictures attributed to Palma the younger. Lovers of early Italian art will find a small Madonna and Child by Pinturicchio, while the disciples of the now unpopular Bolognese school will admire the picture of St Roch and the Angel, by Annibale Caracci. The room also contains a doubtful Rembrandt, two exquisitely finished little pictures by Gerard Douw, some good Ruysdaels, a Teniers or two, and a picture which, legend says, is the earliest Murillo in existence. There are also portraits by Gainsborough and Hogarth.

The south room is even more miscellaneous. It is presided over by a vast copy of a Veronese, probably by the artist’s brother, opposite which, on either side of the entrance from the main gallery, are two portraits of the school of Holbein, one of a bygone Fitzwilliam. The other was given by the executors of the late Dean of Lincoln, and represents a person unknown.Besides these, there are numerous small pictures of the late Italian type, and views of Venice by Canaletto and Zuccarelli. A very admirable Raeburn will appeal to all lovers of portrait art, and deserves wider fame. But the gem of the whole collection, a series of water-colours by Turner, is in this room. Mr Ruskin generously presented the University with these, and they may be reckoned among its most priceless treasures. In the eastern continuation of the room is the collection of small pictures given by Mr Daniel Mesman in 1834. Some of these, including a small landscape attributed to Ruysdael and some delicate pictures by Adam Elzheimer, are of considerable value; but the rest are somewhat devoid of interest. On the south wall is a set of small pictures of the French school, mostly by Boucher, but two are attributed to Watteau, and two to Greuze. They are, however, of no great worth. And the rooms on the opposite side of the building are very uninteresting. Sir John Millais’ famous “Bridesmaid” is in the western room of the two, in company with some English landscapes, Mr Watts’ portrait of the late Duke of Devonshire,and Mr Richmond’s portrait of the present Bishop of Durham. The eastern room is occupied by an immense model of the Taj Mehál, and by some very early Italian pictures, the most prominent of which is by Cosimo Rosselli, the painter whose startling use of colour was so acceptable to Pope Sixtus IV. Under the curatorship of Professor Colvin and the late Professor Middleton, the interest of the Museum was much increased; and the present curator, Dr James, the well-known theologian and antiquarian, has followed in their footsteps.

Since the days of Lord Fitzwilliam’s bequest, the University’s ardour has been turned in the direction of science. Most of the public buildings since then, such as the huge laboratories and Anatomical Museum (a work of Salvin’s) are devoted to that interest, and the visitor will find them more utilitarian than anything else. In speaking of Pembroke, I have already referred to Mr Scott’s façade to the Chemical Laboratory. The archæologist, however, will be greatly relieved to find the beautiful timber roof of the Perse school still existing where he least expects it—namely, in the EngineeringLaboratory. These buildings, however, and others, such as the Observatory in the Madingley Road, and Sir Digby Wyatt’s extraordinary façade at Addenbrooke’s Hospital, which, the famous “Cambridge Freshman” was gravely informed, was the Vice-Chancellor’s official residence, speak for themselves. Not the least important feature of modern Cambridge is the unobtrusive red-brick building in Mill Lane, occupied by the University Extension Syndicate. Not remarkable in itself, it is the visible sign of the aim of the modern University not to keep its cherished learning to itself, but to distribute its advantages to others. Whether or no the idea expressed by a far-sighted don in the last century, when he said that each town ought to have its university, will be realised, is a possibility that rests on the knees of the gods; but the means are certainly in use, and the wish is in a fair way of fulfilment.

Although the architectural interest of Cambridge, so far as churches are concerned, is centred in the college chapels, there are nevertheless several churches which are not devoid of interest, and one or two which are quite unique. The visitor who takes the trouble to examine them will be amply repaid, although his reminiscences of them will, after a cursory inspection, be rather confused. Starting, then, from the western door of the University Church, and proceeding along King’s Parade, he will find, just opposite King’s gateway, the narrow passage which leads to St Edward’s Church. St Edward’s occupies the centre of a flagged court, and its east end faces Peas Hill, one of those Cambridge hills whose slope is invisible. It is a fairly large church with broad aisles and a short tower at the west end, and is mostly ofthe Decorated period, from 1340 to 1350; but it has been from time to time restored, and the tower suffers from a hideous coating of stucco. The nave arcade is lofty but rather meagre. The font is interesting, and was restored by the Cambridge Camden Society in the first half of the century. There are also good Decorated sedilia in the chancel. It was one of the centres of reforming influence in Cambridge, and many of the Marian martyrs, including Latimer, preached in it.The next turning on the same side of King’s Parade is Bene’t Street, in which, at the corner of Free School Lane, is the very interesting church of St Benedict, long the chapel of Corpus Christi College. Although the nave and chancel of this church were thoroughly restored in 1869 and are very normal examples of later Gothic work, the tower and western arch belong to a very early period, certainly anterior to the Norman Conquest. The tower is rather thicker than most towers of its date, and rises to a very respectable height, but it has the characteristic trait of growing thinner as it reaches the top. The window-openings of the upper storey aresmall and primitive; that in the centre of each face is double, its two lights being separated by a small baluster-shaped column, as is the case at Earl’s Barton in Northamptonshire and at other places. The tower-arch, inside the church, is very curious. It is tall and narrow, and is also thinner as it reaches the top; the pilasters which support it on either side have roughly carved capitals. One may safely refer the whole structure to the reign of Edward the Confessor, and possibly earlier. There are two somewhat similar towers at Lincoln, and a ruder, but later, tower at Oxford. A staircase still connects the south-west corner of the chancel with the old court of Corpus.On the other side of Corpus is the church of St Botolph, a picturesque building, chiefly of Perpendicular date, which belonged for three centuries to the priory at Barnwell. Like most churches in Cambridge, it counted the undergraduates of one or two of the medieval colleges among its congregation, and the advowson now belongs to Queens’ College. It is a fine, spacious church, and its plain tower, with the strange crawling beasts which serve as waterspouts, is one of the veryvarious objects which contribute to the academical perspective of Trumpington Street. There is a good modern window by Mr C. E. Kempe at the east end of the north aisle.Not very far on, just opposite Pembroke, is the extremely beautiful church of St Mary—known as Little St Mary’s to distinguish it from the University Church. It is the most venerable object in a very heterogeneous group of buildings. Dwarfing it on one side is Burrough’s classical wing at Peterhouse, and, on the other, is the tower of the new Congregational Chapel, a creditable imitation of the Belfry at Tournai. These, however, show it to advantage, and add to its venerable aspect. It is a very lovely example of the later Decorated style, and was built in 1352 on the site of the old church of St Peter. There is a tradition that Alan de Walsingham, who designed the Octagon at Ely, had something to do with it, and the very elaborate tracery of the east window is certainly worthy of a master’s hand. It was for two hundred and eighty years the chapel of Peterhouse, and, as at St Bene’t’s, the passage from college to church is still preserved. Its shapeis that of a college chapel; there are no side-aisles; and, save in the two bays south of the sanctuary, the church is lighted by a series of very large windows. There are two good brasses, one of a doctor of medicine in his robes, the other of a lady. It was restored by Sir Gilbert Scott, and, since then, a western choir-vestry has been added. In 1891, the east window was thoroughly restored and glass thoroughly worthy of it was added by the munificence of Mr Hamblin Smith. This window, a conventional treatment of the Annunciation, may be regarded as the best of Mr Kempe’s many excellent windows. The small west window was also filled by Mr Kempe in 1894, but in this he has been less successful. It is to be hoped that the rest of the windows will be similarly treated.Little St Mary’s is almost at the extremity of Cambridge, and is the last church on the Trumpington Road. On the Hills Road, which may be reached by turning to the left just opposite the Leys School, are the not very beautiful St Paul’s Church, which is a district church in the large parish of St Andrew the Less, and the great Roman Catholic church.This fine modern building, by Messrs Hansom of Newcastle, was built at the expense of Mrs Lyne Stevens, and was consecrated in 1890. The glass, by Powell of Whitefriars, is interesting but might be better. There is no church between this and Christ’s College, opposite which is St Andrew’s the Great, rebuilt in 1843, and remarkable for nothing save a memorial tablet in the chancel to Captain Cook the navigator. Holy Trinity, at the next street-corner, is in the main a Perpendicular church, but has been much added to in the present century. Charles Simeon was for sixty years vicar of this parish, and its traditions have been constantly kept up by a succession of noted Evangelical priests.The Round ChurchFrom Holy Trinity we pass down Sidney Street and into Bridge Street. Just opposite St John’s Chapel is the church of the Holy Sepulchre, generally known as the Round Church. This is one of the four churches of the Templars which remain in England, and is the earliest. The Temple Church in London was built several years later; St Sepulchre’s at Northampton is later again; and the roundchurch at Little Maplestead in Essex belongs to quite the last years of the Order. The round portion of the Cambridge church belongs to the earliest Norman period, and was begun in the reign of William Rufus—that is, before 1100. It consists of eight divisions. The round-headed arches of the ground-floor rest upon massive round piers; dwarf piers on the same principle support the arches of the triforium, which include a double arch separated by a slender central pillar and springing from pilasters attached to the main piers. The clerestory above is lighted by eight round-headed openings, splayed inwardly. The ribs of the conical roof continue into the clerestory and triforium and finish in the spandrils of the triforium arches with grotesque corbels. Although all this is on a miniature scale, the effect is very grand and solemn. The good taste of the last century blocked up the triforium and filled the ground-floor with pews. The exterior had been adorned much earlier with an upper storey. This, to be in harmony with the late Perpendicular chancel, was crowned by an ugly battlement. In 1841, the CambridgeCamden Society took the church in hand. Their architect was Salvin, who restored it very well, taking down the upper storey, adding a conical slate roof in agreement with tradition, and opening out the Norman doorway. Unfortunately, the Society’s taste in stained glass was not very advanced, and the gaudy east window by Willement is not at all appropriate. Wailes’ glass in the round part is much better, but is not all that could be desired. The Society’s stone altar was the subject of acause celèbre, and was pronounced illegal by Sir Herbert Jenner Fust in 1845. This unhappy incident was the result of the dissolution of a society which had done literally everything for the cause of Cambridge archæology, and was no small factor in the great Church revival of the forties. St Sepulchre’s is one of those rare livings which are in the gift of the parishioners; and the burgesses of the parish are very tenacious of their privilege.Lower down, on the same side of Bridge Street, a very ignominious spire invites us to St Clement’s, a church in the gift of Jesus College. This spire was built from a bequest of Cole, the well-known antiquary, early in the century, andabove the west door is inscribed the punning motto, “Deum Cole.” The body of the church is Early English. St Clement’s is the last church on the east side of the river. St Giles’, just beyond Magdalene, is a large modern church with an unfinished west end, but its history is not uninteresting. There is no doubt that the priory church of St Giles stood on this site, under the shadow of the castle. A Norman arch from the old church has been incorporated in the south aisle of the present building; and, across the street, the interesting little church of St Peter, whose detail is partially Norman, doubtless served as an extra chapel. However, as the importance of the house increased, it removed to the suburb of Barnwell. We know that the monastery was founded by Hugolina Picot and her husband, somewhere about 1090. The Barnwell removal took place in 1122, under the auspices of Pain Peverel, standard-bearer to Robert of Normandy. In Barnwell, the squalid suburb of Cambridge which lies between the Newmarket Road and Parker’s Piece, no remains of the actual priory exist. It stood somewhere near the ugly modern church, which,although it is the parish church of St Andrew the Less, is called Christ Church. The little Early English building further down the Newmarket Road was, we may presume, a parochial chapel served by the Benedictines of the priory. It now bears the proud but doubly erroneous title of the Abbey Church. And the beautiful Norman chapel at Stourbridge, close to the modern Barnwell Junction, stood in a similar relation to what must have been one of the principal of the lesser Benedictine houses in England.However, no one, unless he is a philanthropist or an impressionist painter, will go out of his way to visit Barnwell; and very few casual visitors get as far as St Giles’, unless they lose their way. The church of St Luke at New Chesterton, not far beyond, is a good modern building, and its spire forms a prominent feature in the view of Cambridge from the Ely Road. Returning to the Round Church, where the two main arteries of Cambridge meet, we turn to the right past St John’s Chapel and the Divinity Schools.[9]Between the latter building andWhewell’s Court of Trinity is a triangular space which is the site of All Saints’ Church. All Saints’ formed, rather more than thirty years ago, a somewhat interesting feature in the streets of Cambridge, for its tower projected into the street, and the pavement ran through an archway beneath it. It was removed when Whewell’s Court was built, and Mr G. F. Bodley erected a handsome new church just opposite Jesus College. All Saints’ is, like St Clement’s, a Jesus living. This later building is the best of modern Cambridge churches. Its spire is very good, and the east window is a curious experiment by the late Sir Edward Burne-Jones and Mr William Morris. The present Dean of Lichfield, who is a Jesus man, has also enriched the church with a charming little window by Mr Kempe. However, old All Saints’ has gone the way of one or two other Cambridge churches—as, for instance, the older St Peter’s, which was taken down to make way for Little St Mary’s, and St John the Baptist’s, which was near Clare. This open space and disused churchyard are its only memorial. The column in the centre was the gift of one MrBoott, an American, who wished to erect some memorial to Kirke White in Cambridge.Before we return to Great St Mary’s, we pass the Decorated church of St Michael, which was built by Hervé de Staunton in 1337, and served as a chapel to his foundation of Michael House. It is a fine church, a good deal modernised, but containing sedilia in the chancel, which are not unlike those at St Edward’s. The stalls in the choir are very complete, and are very excellent examples of fifteenth-century woodwork. At the end of the south aisle is a picture of Charles I. which bears a very close resemblance to the famous frontispiece of theEikon Basilike. When Henry VIII. amalgamated the numerous foundations in this quarter of the town, and founded Trinity College, this church, like Great St Mary’s, became college property, and the living is still in the gift of Trinity. In St Michael’s was buried Paul Fagius, the Lutheran Hebraist, who lectured in Cambridge and died there during the reign of Edward VI. His bones, however, were exhumed to gratify Queen Mary’s Commissioners in 1557, and were burned with those of Bucer in the Market Place. This is one ofthe few historical facts which we can connect with Cambridge churches. They are, architecturally speaking, much more interesting than the churches of many old towns, and people who are weary of the sameness of the churches crowded together in places like Norwich or Colchester will turn to these with relief. But their records are barren, and, although we know a certain amount about Barnwell Priory, we should like to know more. While of the Templars’ church absolutely no record remains, and the building merely informs us with a baffling reticence that Cambridge must at one time, among its religious houses, have numbered a rich and important Commandery of that glorious but unfortunate Order.

The next turning on the same side of King’s Parade is Bene’t Street, in which, at the corner of Free School Lane, is the very interesting church of St Benedict, long the chapel of Corpus Christi College. Although the nave and chancel of this church were thoroughly restored in 1869 and are very normal examples of later Gothic work, the tower and western arch belong to a very early period, certainly anterior to the Norman Conquest. The tower is rather thicker than most towers of its date, and rises to a very respectable height, but it has the characteristic trait of growing thinner as it reaches the top. The window-openings of the upper storey aresmall and primitive; that in the centre of each face is double, its two lights being separated by a small baluster-shaped column, as is the case at Earl’s Barton in Northamptonshire and at other places. The tower-arch, inside the church, is very curious. It is tall and narrow, and is also thinner as it reaches the top; the pilasters which support it on either side have roughly carved capitals. One may safely refer the whole structure to the reign of Edward the Confessor, and possibly earlier. There are two somewhat similar towers at Lincoln, and a ruder, but later, tower at Oxford. A staircase still connects the south-west corner of the chancel with the old court of Corpus.

On the other side of Corpus is the church of St Botolph, a picturesque building, chiefly of Perpendicular date, which belonged for three centuries to the priory at Barnwell. Like most churches in Cambridge, it counted the undergraduates of one or two of the medieval colleges among its congregation, and the advowson now belongs to Queens’ College. It is a fine, spacious church, and its plain tower, with the strange crawling beasts which serve as waterspouts, is one of the veryvarious objects which contribute to the academical perspective of Trumpington Street. There is a good modern window by Mr C. E. Kempe at the east end of the north aisle.

Not very far on, just opposite Pembroke, is the extremely beautiful church of St Mary—known as Little St Mary’s to distinguish it from the University Church. It is the most venerable object in a very heterogeneous group of buildings. Dwarfing it on one side is Burrough’s classical wing at Peterhouse, and, on the other, is the tower of the new Congregational Chapel, a creditable imitation of the Belfry at Tournai. These, however, show it to advantage, and add to its venerable aspect. It is a very lovely example of the later Decorated style, and was built in 1352 on the site of the old church of St Peter. There is a tradition that Alan de Walsingham, who designed the Octagon at Ely, had something to do with it, and the very elaborate tracery of the east window is certainly worthy of a master’s hand. It was for two hundred and eighty years the chapel of Peterhouse, and, as at St Bene’t’s, the passage from college to church is still preserved. Its shapeis that of a college chapel; there are no side-aisles; and, save in the two bays south of the sanctuary, the church is lighted by a series of very large windows. There are two good brasses, one of a doctor of medicine in his robes, the other of a lady. It was restored by Sir Gilbert Scott, and, since then, a western choir-vestry has been added. In 1891, the east window was thoroughly restored and glass thoroughly worthy of it was added by the munificence of Mr Hamblin Smith. This window, a conventional treatment of the Annunciation, may be regarded as the best of Mr Kempe’s many excellent windows. The small west window was also filled by Mr Kempe in 1894, but in this he has been less successful. It is to be hoped that the rest of the windows will be similarly treated.

Little St Mary’s is almost at the extremity of Cambridge, and is the last church on the Trumpington Road. On the Hills Road, which may be reached by turning to the left just opposite the Leys School, are the not very beautiful St Paul’s Church, which is a district church in the large parish of St Andrew the Less, and the great Roman Catholic church.This fine modern building, by Messrs Hansom of Newcastle, was built at the expense of Mrs Lyne Stevens, and was consecrated in 1890. The glass, by Powell of Whitefriars, is interesting but might be better. There is no church between this and Christ’s College, opposite which is St Andrew’s the Great, rebuilt in 1843, and remarkable for nothing save a memorial tablet in the chancel to Captain Cook the navigator. Holy Trinity, at the next street-corner, is in the main a Perpendicular church, but has been much added to in the present century. Charles Simeon was for sixty years vicar of this parish, and its traditions have been constantly kept up by a succession of noted Evangelical priests.

The Round Church

From Holy Trinity we pass down Sidney Street and into Bridge Street. Just opposite St John’s Chapel is the church of the Holy Sepulchre, generally known as the Round Church. This is one of the four churches of the Templars which remain in England, and is the earliest. The Temple Church in London was built several years later; St Sepulchre’s at Northampton is later again; and the roundchurch at Little Maplestead in Essex belongs to quite the last years of the Order. The round portion of the Cambridge church belongs to the earliest Norman period, and was begun in the reign of William Rufus—that is, before 1100. It consists of eight divisions. The round-headed arches of the ground-floor rest upon massive round piers; dwarf piers on the same principle support the arches of the triforium, which include a double arch separated by a slender central pillar and springing from pilasters attached to the main piers. The clerestory above is lighted by eight round-headed openings, splayed inwardly. The ribs of the conical roof continue into the clerestory and triforium and finish in the spandrils of the triforium arches with grotesque corbels. Although all this is on a miniature scale, the effect is very grand and solemn. The good taste of the last century blocked up the triforium and filled the ground-floor with pews. The exterior had been adorned much earlier with an upper storey. This, to be in harmony with the late Perpendicular chancel, was crowned by an ugly battlement. In 1841, the CambridgeCamden Society took the church in hand. Their architect was Salvin, who restored it very well, taking down the upper storey, adding a conical slate roof in agreement with tradition, and opening out the Norman doorway. Unfortunately, the Society’s taste in stained glass was not very advanced, and the gaudy east window by Willement is not at all appropriate. Wailes’ glass in the round part is much better, but is not all that could be desired. The Society’s stone altar was the subject of acause celèbre, and was pronounced illegal by Sir Herbert Jenner Fust in 1845. This unhappy incident was the result of the dissolution of a society which had done literally everything for the cause of Cambridge archæology, and was no small factor in the great Church revival of the forties. St Sepulchre’s is one of those rare livings which are in the gift of the parishioners; and the burgesses of the parish are very tenacious of their privilege.

Lower down, on the same side of Bridge Street, a very ignominious spire invites us to St Clement’s, a church in the gift of Jesus College. This spire was built from a bequest of Cole, the well-known antiquary, early in the century, andabove the west door is inscribed the punning motto, “Deum Cole.” The body of the church is Early English. St Clement’s is the last church on the east side of the river. St Giles’, just beyond Magdalene, is a large modern church with an unfinished west end, but its history is not uninteresting. There is no doubt that the priory church of St Giles stood on this site, under the shadow of the castle. A Norman arch from the old church has been incorporated in the south aisle of the present building; and, across the street, the interesting little church of St Peter, whose detail is partially Norman, doubtless served as an extra chapel. However, as the importance of the house increased, it removed to the suburb of Barnwell. We know that the monastery was founded by Hugolina Picot and her husband, somewhere about 1090. The Barnwell removal took place in 1122, under the auspices of Pain Peverel, standard-bearer to Robert of Normandy. In Barnwell, the squalid suburb of Cambridge which lies between the Newmarket Road and Parker’s Piece, no remains of the actual priory exist. It stood somewhere near the ugly modern church, which,although it is the parish church of St Andrew the Less, is called Christ Church. The little Early English building further down the Newmarket Road was, we may presume, a parochial chapel served by the Benedictines of the priory. It now bears the proud but doubly erroneous title of the Abbey Church. And the beautiful Norman chapel at Stourbridge, close to the modern Barnwell Junction, stood in a similar relation to what must have been one of the principal of the lesser Benedictine houses in England.

However, no one, unless he is a philanthropist or an impressionist painter, will go out of his way to visit Barnwell; and very few casual visitors get as far as St Giles’, unless they lose their way. The church of St Luke at New Chesterton, not far beyond, is a good modern building, and its spire forms a prominent feature in the view of Cambridge from the Ely Road. Returning to the Round Church, where the two main arteries of Cambridge meet, we turn to the right past St John’s Chapel and the Divinity Schools.[9]Between the latter building andWhewell’s Court of Trinity is a triangular space which is the site of All Saints’ Church. All Saints’ formed, rather more than thirty years ago, a somewhat interesting feature in the streets of Cambridge, for its tower projected into the street, and the pavement ran through an archway beneath it. It was removed when Whewell’s Court was built, and Mr G. F. Bodley erected a handsome new church just opposite Jesus College. All Saints’ is, like St Clement’s, a Jesus living. This later building is the best of modern Cambridge churches. Its spire is very good, and the east window is a curious experiment by the late Sir Edward Burne-Jones and Mr William Morris. The present Dean of Lichfield, who is a Jesus man, has also enriched the church with a charming little window by Mr Kempe. However, old All Saints’ has gone the way of one or two other Cambridge churches—as, for instance, the older St Peter’s, which was taken down to make way for Little St Mary’s, and St John the Baptist’s, which was near Clare. This open space and disused churchyard are its only memorial. The column in the centre was the gift of one MrBoott, an American, who wished to erect some memorial to Kirke White in Cambridge.

Before we return to Great St Mary’s, we pass the Decorated church of St Michael, which was built by Hervé de Staunton in 1337, and served as a chapel to his foundation of Michael House. It is a fine church, a good deal modernised, but containing sedilia in the chancel, which are not unlike those at St Edward’s. The stalls in the choir are very complete, and are very excellent examples of fifteenth-century woodwork. At the end of the south aisle is a picture of Charles I. which bears a very close resemblance to the famous frontispiece of theEikon Basilike. When Henry VIII. amalgamated the numerous foundations in this quarter of the town, and founded Trinity College, this church, like Great St Mary’s, became college property, and the living is still in the gift of Trinity. In St Michael’s was buried Paul Fagius, the Lutheran Hebraist, who lectured in Cambridge and died there during the reign of Edward VI. His bones, however, were exhumed to gratify Queen Mary’s Commissioners in 1557, and were burned with those of Bucer in the Market Place. This is one ofthe few historical facts which we can connect with Cambridge churches. They are, architecturally speaking, much more interesting than the churches of many old towns, and people who are weary of the sameness of the churches crowded together in places like Norwich or Colchester will turn to these with relief. But their records are barren, and, although we know a certain amount about Barnwell Priory, we should like to know more. While of the Templars’ church absolutely no record remains, and the building merely informs us with a baffling reticence that Cambridge must at one time, among its religious houses, have numbered a rich and important Commandery of that glorious but unfortunate Order.

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