LECTURE IV

Gunning’s “Reminiscences of Cambridge”

An English University so closely connected with New England must have special interest to you. Yet those who have been to our Cambridge would find it indeed hard to recognise it in the place I am now about to put before you. It changed beyond recognition within the long lifetime of the author, whose reminiscences, put down during his long last illness, will be the text of my lecture. He had remarkable opportunities of observing University life, and many faculties of making the best of them. His hard shrewd face looks down upon us when we take our wine after dinner as guests in the combination room of Christ’s College, and is an indication of his character. He was noBoswell; for he lacked appreciation of the men he described and though capable of devoted friendship, had little affection for many of them. But he is an admirable raconteur with a shrewd eye for the absurdity of a situation, and will, I think, prove excellent company for us during the time at my disposal.

Many of my audience have doubtless visited our English Cambridge before this war broke out, and will be able to check the remarks I am about to make. An easy run from London brings the traveller to a railway station so inconvenient that it could only have been imagined in a bad dream; and he finds himself in the outskirts of a fair sized and rapidly increasing town.

A dull drive through a street of shops brings you to the colleges; and, if you happened to arrive at midday, you would find a stream of undergraduates in cap and gown with women students from Girton and Newnham issuingfrom or flowing into the lecture rooms. Supposing your host to be in his college, you would find the courts populous with undergraduates, some in cap and gown, some in flannel blazers, and some,proh pudor!in evening pumps or even in carpet slippers. If you asked a question of one of them, you would be answered obligingly, if not with elaborate courtesy. Your host (a fellow of the college) would probably be working with a few pupils; and when they withdrew you would either be given lunch in his rooms or taken to his house. A few friends would be asked to meet you. The meal would be, I hope, a good one, and several would not even take the wine which was provided. Why I say this will appear later. If it were summer, you would have been taken for a walk in the “Backs,” and have found the narrow river crowded with boats full of gaily flannelled men and a good many ladies; and, I think, you wouldhave admired the brightness of the scene. You might witness a cricket match, and, later in the evening, have watched the eights practising, with their coaches running, cycling, or riding beside them. If you dined in the college hall, you would find a good if not elaborate dinner neatly served; and the company, if not brilliant, would be at least variegated. In the combination room, over a modest glass of port and perhaps a cigar, the conversation would turn on many topics. The presiding fellow, who has been everywhere, would be laying down the law to a somewhat inattentive audience about hotels in Buda-Pesth and the old college friends he had met on the Yukon River. A famous man of letters would be giving his views on finance and town planning. A chemist and a mathematician would be absorbed in discussing bird life. A great authority on art might be explaining his views on the religion of the future to a D.D., who ought to know,being by repute a heretic, but is somewhat inattentive as he is trying to listen, and at the same time endeavouring to explain to another man what are the prospects of the college boat. An anthropologist of European fame is being instructed by the junior fellow how the last fashionable dance ought to be performed; and the tutor, a silent man, suddenly breaks in with a question as to the progress of one of his pupils. Naturally the guest is not neglected; he would perhaps rather listen, especially as everyone is talking about something he does not make his specialty, as all sensible people do after dinner. It may be our supposed guest is taken to the Master’s Lodge and finds several undergraduates on terms of easy familiarity with the “dons” and even with the, in old days unapproachable and awful, Head of the college. I am of course speaking of happier days before the War had depleted our numbers and when we all felt friendly and sociable.

In every scene in this imaginary sketch the contrast with Cambridge in the eighteenth century would be apparent. Except for parts of the buildings all is changed. In one respect the traveller who visited Cambridge a century ago would have had the advantage. Had he approached by either of the hills, by Madingley or the Gog Magogs, the town would have appeared more beautiful than now. Here is a description of his first view of the place by John Henry Newman in 1832, who was too great an admirer of the beauties of Oxford to fail to see how lovely was her rival:

“Cambridge, July 16th, 1832.

“Having come to this place with no anticipations, I am quite taken by surprise and overcome with delight. This, doubtless, you will think premature in me, inasmuch as I have seen yet scarcely anything, and have been writing letters of business to Mr. Rose and Rivingtons. But really, when I sawat the distance of four miles, on an extended plain, wider than Oxford, amid thicker and greener groves, the Alma Mater Cantabrigiensis lying before me, I thought I should not be able to contain myself, and in spite of my regret at her present defects and past history, and all that is wrong about her,[18]I seemed about to cryFloreat in eternum. Surely there is agenius locihere, as in my own dear home; and the nearer I came to it, the more I felt its power. I do really think the place finer than Oxford, though I suppose it isn’t, for everyone says so. I like the narrow streets; they have a character, and they make the University buildings look larger by contrast. I cannot believe that King’s College is not far grander than anything with us; the stone, too, is richer, and the foliage more thick and encompassing. I found my way from the town toTrinity College like old Œdipus, without guide, by instinct; how, I know not. I never studied the plan of Cambridge.”

Ill paved, ill drained as was the town, narrow as were the streets, it must have been picturesque to the eye, and the colleges, unspoiled by modern additions, are very attractive, to judge by the old prints. On the whole, however, I think our verdict would have been that old Cambridge was a pleasanter place for us to explore than for its inhabitants to live in.

Let us now exercise our imagination a little more and try to fancy what a day spent in Cambridge would have been like to a stranger towards the close of the eighteenth century. One thing, I think, may be assumed to be unaltered. Had he come to visit a friend, he would have been hospitably received. Let us suppose that he also arrived at midday in summer when it was full term and that, to quote Wordsworth, he—

“At the Hoop alighted ... famous inn.”

He certainly would not have met a troop of young men, let alone maidens, going in and out of lecture. The lectures were over: and the lecture rooms were never crowded. Perhaps some noisy fellow-commoners might have stared and jeered at him and quite possibly have insulted him. Most colleges were very empty of students, many rather dilapidated. He would have dined in the middle of the day, and the hall would have been hot, noisy, and probably ill ordered. Joints were passed from one diner to another and carved according to taste. At the high table, where he would dine, would be the resident fellows, a stray nobleman or so, and a few rich young men, called fellow-commoners. A good deal of beer would be drunk, and most of the company would be rather cross and sleepy after the meal. The fellows, who were nearly all clergymen, would show themselves obsequious to the noblemen,uneasily familiar with the fellow-commoners, and completely oblivious of the scholars and pensioners, who dined at the lower table, and of the sizars, or poor scholars, who, in some cases (certainly at an earlier date), waited on them, and after dinner ate what had been left on the high table. There were no games to watch: and in the afternoon probably our guest would be mounted and taken for a ride. In the evening supper would be served and perhaps a considerable amount of wine drunk in the combination room. As political feeling ran high at the time, the company would probably have quarrelled. Very few fellows had ever left their native country. A few had hardly known any places save their homes and their University.

Some must have been strangely uncouth in manner and appearance. Most of them were, as I have said, clergymen, and, of course, bachelors; but their practice of celibacywas not always such as to fulfil the ideals of the advocates of that holy state in the days of the saints. But we have not yet finished our day. Supper would have been followed by an adjournment to a small, dirty, ill-lighted public house, and the walk home to bed might not be inaptly compared to the convolutions of a corkscrew.

That such was the University in the days of our author I fancy some extracts from the book before me will convince you. He admits that in his youthful days Cambridge had sunk lower than it ever had before, and he trusted that such days as his might never recur.

We have kept him waiting too long. Let me present to you Henry Gunning, Esquire Bedel of the University of Cambridge. He tells us he was a son of a clergyman in the neighbourhood and the descendant of “that admirable prelate,” Dr. Peter Gunning, Bishop of Ely in the reign of Charles II. He enteredChrist’s College in 1784, and died in 1855, well over eighty years of age, after a life spent in the University. During his long last illness he dictated his reminiscences.[19]He had, at an earlier period written some memoirs; but, on reflection, after a serious illness he had decided to burn all the papers. In his own words:

“I kept an account of the decision of the Heads on any disputed point.... My notes became much swelled by rumours ofjobbingamong the higher powers, which, though sometimes defeated, were generally so skilfully conducted that they more frequently succeeded. I had collected sufficient materials for publishing a pretty large volume, but was about that time attacked by a sudden and dangerous illness, which afforded moreopportunity for serious reflection than I had before accustomed myself to.... I was apprehensive that I might have inserted some things (which I believed to be facts) upon questionable authority.... I feared that the papers might fall into the hands of some bookseller whose only object would be gain, to obtain which he would not scruple to whitewash men whose characters ought to have been drawn in the darkest colours, or to speak in extremely harsh terms of others on whose eccentricities I only wished to pass a slight censure. Too ill to admit of delay, I decided on committing all my papers to the flames, nor did I for fifty years regret the step.” Gunning died before his task was completed: his memoirs terminated abruptly; but the most interesting part of his work has happily survived, and the earlier reminiscences, as is customary with the aged, are more full and vivid than the later.

I shall not attempt to moralise or discant much upon his story; but I intend to give it in his own words with a few remarks in passing.

Henry Gunning entered Christ’s College as a sizar, a poor scholar who was at one time supposed to be fed by what was left of the meals provided for the fellows (a Christ’s College sizar being the equivalent of a “servitor” at Oxford), though Gunning says nothing of this.[20]As we shall see, he led anything but the life of a humble dependant whilst at the University. His college had been and now is among the most distinguished at Cambridge. It had produced John Milton and Ralph Cudworth, and had been a famous centre of the intellectual life of theseventeenth century. It was the college of William Paley, who was Senior Wrangler in 1763, and it was destined to be the school of many a famous man, among them Charles Darwin. But only three men entered with our hero in 1785.

The two tutors, Mr. Parkinson and Mr. Seale, were in a sense men of mark. The former had been disappointed in failing to be elected Master; and was engaged to a very beautiful young lady, whose numerous admirers made him at times uncomfortable. As Mr. Parkinson had an eighteen-mile ride to get to his lady-love, he lectured in cap and gown, but also booted and spurred, and snubbed young Gunning when he asked for explanations of difficult points in the lecture.

Accordingly his pupil gave up lectures and decided not to read at all; but at the end of the term the tutor spoke most kindly and encouragingly, as an old friend of his pupil’s father. The result was that Gunningbecame, for a time at least, a reading man, and was much encouraged by his friend Hartley, a Yorkshireman who shewed him the solution of the difficulties which Parkinson was too impatient to explain. When Parkinson examined Gunning he found that his progress was most satisfactory, encouraged him most kindly to persist; and when Gunning told him of a man who was reputed to read twelve hours a day in hopes of surpassing the expected Senior Wrangler, he remarked, “If he mean to beat him he had better devote six hours to reading and six hours to reflecting on what he has read.”

Seale, the other tutor, was a good teacher and a really humorous lecturer. “Nothing could be pleasanter than the hour passed at his lecture, such was his kindness to all.... When any ludicrous blunder occurred ... he joined in the laugh as heartily as any of us.” Seale seems to have been a very able scholar, but somewhat quarrelsome:he became chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury; but had to resign because he quarrelled with the butler about the wine supplied at the chaplains’ table. However, Gunning had nothing to complain of in regard to the education he got from his college.

He was not always a close student; and both his diversions and his friends are more interesting in illustrating his times, than are his tutors or his reading. May I for a moment digress and explain the constitution of the University? Except for a very few professors and the officials—Vice-Chancellor, Proctors, Taxors, and Moderators, etc.—the University was practically non-existent. The colleges did virtually all the teaching and were self-contained bodies.[21]

A man got little or no instruction outside his own college; the University examined him and gave him his degree—that was all.

The real rulers of the University were the Masters of the colleges. Most of them were highly placed ecclesiastics, and, consequently, had frequently to be absent from Cambridge; but as the “Heads” might marry, and fellows had to resign their position on taking a wife, they constituted a permanent element, and became all-powerful. I myself have often heard stories of the time when the Master of a college, and his family, belonged to an aristocracy to which no ordinary Master of Arts could hope to be admitted; and, you may be sure, the ladies who reigned in the lodges were very careful to keep the wives and daughters of such married graduates as happened to live in the town at their proper distance. Gunning will have plenty to say about them. The fellows of the colleges were for the most part non-resident; only the tutors and a few old men resided with any permanence in the colleges. With a few exceptions the fellows who stayed inCambridge were either very young men or very strange old bachelors who seldom left the town. What instruction was given was given by the college tutors, and most of the fellows who lived in Cambridge served as curates to the different village churches. Some were almost entirely idle men, and one, who shall be nameless, found them no little mischief to do.

The fellows dined at the high table, to which the nobility were also admitted. Noblemen,i.e.peers, the eldest sons of peers, and men who could prove royal descent, had till comparatively recently had the right of proceeding to the degree of M.A. after two years of residence without taking any examination or the degree of B.A. In Gunning’s early days peers wore on state occasions a magnificent academical dress varying in colour according to taste. Then came the fellow-commoners, men of wealth, who paid far higher fees than the ordinary studentsand dined with the fellows. These were also distinguished by the magnificence of their academic attire. It is difficult to imagine a much worse system of education. The nobility and fellow-commoners were kept apart from the ordinary men, often grossly flattered by the fellows and even by the Masters of the colleges. Work was not expected of them, and their example was often pernicious alike to the students and to the younger fellows. The majority of the young men were classed as scholars, who with the fellows formed what is called the “society” of the colleges, pensioners, and sizars or servitors. Almost all were intending to take Holy Orders: a few, however, became barristers or medical practitioners. The University was very small. In 1748 there were only 1500 on the books of the colleges; this includes non-residents, who were almost certainly in the majority. In 1801 the total of residents in the University, including,I suppose, the servants who slept in college, was 803.

Gunning certainly kept good company, and this is how he enjoyed himself. He was a keen sportsman, and Cambridge afforded excellent opportunity for him to indulge his taste. The fenlands were not preserved and abounded with waterfowl. Young lads and boys were always ready to carry the game and to provide poles to leap the fen ditches. The fishing was excellent, and so both summer and winter could be fully occupied by the sportsman. We hear nothing of any games or athletics from Gunning. Everybody rode, but there was apparently no hunting. Here is a riding story told by Mr. Gunning. Dr. Watson, Bishop of Llandaff, was remarkable for holding many posts simultaneously and of impartially neglecting the duties of all. Yet he possessed undoubted gifts, and his was the only criticism of Gibbon’s famous chapters about the rise ofChristianity which the historian deemed worthy of his attention. He took a high degree in 1759 and five years later became Professor of Chemistry. For two years he held the chairs of Chemistry and Divinity together; and for thirty-two years he was Bishop of Llandaff, and Regius Professor of Divinity in Cambridge, discharging the duties of both offices from his house in the Lake district in the North of England. Apropos of this house in Westmorland, Gunning tells a good story. The proprietor of the Cock Inn out of compliment to Dr. Watson changed the name of his hostelry to the “Bishop’s Head” and painted his Lordship on the signboard. The ostler, who had saved money, built a rival hotel which he called “The Cock.” Thereupon the landlord of the “Bishop’s Head,” finding custom leaving him, put an inscription under the portrait, “This is the Old Cock.”

Dr. Watson’s deputy professor was Dr.Kipling, who was very unpopular from the way in which he held aloof from the undergraduates, so the young men resolved to have their revenge. Dr. Kipling’s principal recreation, to quote our author, “was a daily ride to the hills, which at that time was the most frequented road among members of the University. Returning one day, he picked up an ostrich feather which he saw drop from the hat of a lady, who was proceeding very slowly about fifty yards in advance.

“On overtaking her he presented the feather, accompanied by an expression relative to the good fortune in being able to restore it. The lady thanked him for his kindness, and, expressing her annoyance that her servant was not in attendance, said she had just left General Adeane’s.... The Doctor begged her not to be uneasy, as he should have much pleasure in attending her until her servant appeared. They had not proceededfar before they began to meet parties of young men who were going out for their morning’s ride. From the significant glances that were exchanged between the parties Dr. Kipling could not fail to discover he had got into bad company. That he might rid himself of his new acquaintance, ... he clapped spurs to his horse, which had been selected with his well-known Yorkshire discernment. The lady was well mounted, and applying her whip briskly kept up with the Doctor.” Thus they rode together through the town, and the story was long related in the University. The lady’s name was Jemima Watson. No relation to the Bishop and Professor of that name! You will, I think, see that Mr. Gunning had a keen eye for character and no little malice; and I propose to deal with some of the strange personalities of the time depicted by him.

On taking a very good degree, our author might reasonably have looked for a fellowship,but this was not possible because “his county” was already in possession of one. I may explain that it was the law that at a small college like Christ’s the fellows should be so selected that no two persons born in the same county should be on the list together. This was intended to protect a college from being monopolised by a single county, by the fellows choosing their friends. But at this time the office of Esquire Bedel was vacant, and Gunning was elected to it. The Vice-Chancellor at this time was attended on all ceremonial occasions by three Esquire Bedels and also by Yeoman Bedels. The former officers still exist, but their number has been reduced to two. Gunning’s colleagues were Mr. William Mathew, Senior Fellow and Bursar of Jesus College, and the famous Mr. Beverley, of Gunning’s own college. Mathew, an excellent man, gave his friend the following description of the duties of his office. They were firstcarvingat theVice-Chancellor’s table, and in this Beverley was unrivalled and always kept the best slices for himself.

Second only to the art of carving was the practice ofpunctuality, which was thus defined: “The statutes of the University enjoin the Respondent to dispute from thefirstto thethirdhour. The authorities consider the statutes to be complied with provided the Disputant is in the boxbeforethe clock strikestwoand does not leave it until after it has struck three.... There are other points of practice which are soon learned.” As says Gunning, “most of them were founded ona violation of the statutes. I inserted them in a memorandum book.”

The senior Esquire Bedel was Mr. Beverley, a most remarkable man. Gunning hated him with all his heart and introduces him in these words:

“If his own account of himself is to be believed (and perhapsin this instancehisword may be taken), he was the most profligate man in the University. He obtained his office by the influence of the famous Lord Sandwich, the friend and betrayer of Wilkes, immortalised as Jenny Twitcher. Beverley had a large family, borrowed from everybody, and cheated all he could. Lord Sandwich entertained magnificently at Hinchinbrooke Castle, about fourteen miles from Cambridge, and Beverley was not above procuring invitations for members of the University who paid him.”

He must have had many attractive qualities and was a good musician. People were always trying to get him out of debt, especially Mr. Basil Montagu, a son of Lord Sandwich.

Montagu collected money to free him from his pressing liabilities and then invited Beverley to tea and read him a long lecture on his extravagance. Poor Beverley departed in tears, not having been told what hisbenefactor intended to do. Montagu felt he had been too severe and feared that Beverley might give way to despair and even kill himself. But, instead of finding the prodigal a corpse, he heard sounds of music if not of dancing, and found his volatile friend seated at his table with a bowl of punch and several boon companions. “After this exhibition Montagu troubled himself no further about Beverley’s debts.”

A notable character of the time was a certain Jimmy Gordon, who had fallen from a position of affluence to one of extreme degradation.[22]Seeing the Master of Trinity, who was also Bishop of Bristol, Gordon begged of him. His Lordship replied, “If you can find a greater scoundrel than yourself, I will give you a half a crown.” Off went Gordon and told Beverley that the Master wished to speak to him. The Master, whenBeverley came, remarked, “You have been misinformed, Mr. Beverley.” Up came Jimmy at this moment and said, “I think, my lord, I am entitled to my half crown.”

I feel I must relate one more example of Beverley’s behaviour. On Midlent Sunday it was customary for the Vice-Chancellor to drive in state and preach in the church at Burwell and be accompanied by one or more of the Esquire Bedels. After the sermon they all dined at a farmer’s house and so enjoyed the ale and port wine that they did not go and hear the vicar at afternoon service. “What sort of preacher is Mr. Turner?” asked the Vice-Chancellor. “For my own part,” replied the tenant, “I would not go over the threshold to hear him preach.” “If that be your opinion, who have had frequent opportunities of hearing him, I am of that opinion too; and we will remain and have a few more glasses of your fine old port.” Needless to remark, the clergymanwas furious at the having been thus neglected. On the way back to Cambridge a Mr. Hole, who was acting as a deputy Bedel, attacked Mr. Beverley, who had a good deal of wit, and gave him more than he got. Then the Vice-Chancellor tried to defend Mr. Hole, and he too got more than he bargained for. So he stopped the carriage and told Beverley to go and sit on the box. The Bedel refused, and told the other two that they had better get out and walk home. “They declined to follow this advice,” and “it was not long before perfect quiet reigned among them, and the university Marshal who acted as Vice-Chancellor’s servant imagined (and it was not avery improbableconclusion) that they had been overtaken by the drowsy god.”

A more reputable but still very striking character was Dr. Milner, the President of Queen’s College. His portrait is one I often study when I dine there. A portly man in his red gown and doctor’s wig, he sitsgrasping the arms of his chair, looking very strong and masterful. In politics a strong Tory, attached by religious sympathy to the evangelical party, editor of the “Church History” of his brother, from his force of character and his mathematical ability Milner was long the ruler of the University. Caring nothing for public opinion, he would have his own way; and he is reported to have once exclaimed, when settling a man’s place in an examination and the man’s tutor exclaimed, “Surely you do not say that A is better than B?” “I never said he was the better man; I said he should stand above him.” It was the custom for the moderators who conducted the Tripos and made out the lists to submit any doubtful cases to some great mathematician, who held aviva voceexamination; and, as Milner’s undoubted ability made his judgment of great value, he was often called to do this. Except where men of his own college or Magdalene, a great centreof evangelicalism, were concerned, his judgment was excellent; but Gunning considers that he was quite unscrupulous when his partiality or interest led him to decide a point. Milner, though an ardent pietist and a valetudinarian, was somewhat notorious for the joviality of his supper parties, at which the bowl circulated freely and the fun was fast and furious. His powerful personality dominated the University, as may be seen from the fact that he did his best to stop the reform of Trinity College. In his account of this Mr. Gunning draws a striking picture of the Seniority of the college in the closing years of the eighteenth century. By its statutes Trinity was practically governed by the Master and the ten Senior Fellows, the latter men who had lived for years in the college without generally doing any work, being content with holding their fellowship and living in celibate idleness. Their power was great; and, as it may well be supposed,they were not as a rule qualified to exercise it, especially when they claimed a right to select the fellows themselves without regard to the reports of the examiners. The tutors fought a hard battle to remove this abuse and were taunted by Milner and the Tory party with being Jacobites and supporters of the French Revolution. The matter was decided in the courts, and the tutors won, with the result that a fellowship at Trinity became, in Macaulay’s words, a veritable “patent of nobility.”

I abbreviate Gunning’s description of the Seniority partly from a sense of propriety.

The Rev. Stephen Whiston, B.D., was, says our author, “I believe a very respectable man.”

The Rev. Samuel Backhouse, B.D., kept a girls’ school at a village called Balsham.

“Was it profit that he sought?No; he paid them to be taught.Had he honour for his aim?No; heblushed to find it fame.”

“Was it profit that he sought?

No; he paid them to be taught.

Had he honour for his aim?

No; heblushed to find it fame.”

The Rev. Samuel Peck, B.D., must have been rather a nice old man. He was a great authority on village law and helped the country people gratis, saying, “Sam Peck never takes a fee, but he loves gratitude,” and the farmers paid him in presents of the produce of their land. He played a very clever trick upon Gunning’s old tutor Seale by persuading him to share the expenses of treating two ladies on a journey from London to Cambridge, who turned out to be his own cook and waitress![23]

The Rev. Thomas Wilson, B.D., had to have his garden key taken away because he was rude to the Master’s wife one dark evening when she was returning from a party.

The Rev. John Higgs, B.D., and the Rev. Thomas Spencer, B.D., were unknown to Gunning. Mr. Spencer was mad, and only came to Cambridge when his vote waswanted. The Rev. William Collier, B.D., was a well-known gourmand. He is recorded to have eaten three-quarters of a sucking pig and to have left the rest because he was engaged to dine immediately after. He was a Hebrew scholar, a good classic, and a modern linguist. The Rev. James Lambert was an excellent sportsman and was supposed to be unorthodox. “Lambert was never addicted to those vices for which at that time the Seniors of Trinity were so notorious, but when in college attended closely to literary pursuits.” He was Professor of Greek.

Observe, except Lambert all were B.D.’s. Here is an epitaph:

“Here lies a Fellow of Trinity.He was a Doctor of Divinity.He knew as much about DivinityAs other Fellows do of Trinity.”

“Here lies a Fellow of Trinity.

He was a Doctor of Divinity.

He knew as much about Divinity

As other Fellows do of Trinity.”

My last character shall be Dr. Farmer, Master of Emmanuel, a most amiable and delightful man. We make his acquaintanceas curate of the parish of Swavesey, a village with a most beautiful church, then a place much larger and more prosperous than it is at present. Almost all the parishes around Cambridge were served by fellows of the colleges, who went over on Sunday to take the prayers, and they were rarely visited on any other day by a clergyman. Sunday was a great day in the colleges, as these clergymen met after its labours, and ate most jovial suppers. Farmer was regarded as a model of punctiliousness in the performance of his duties, as he made a point of never missing a Sunday at Swavesey and of dining after service at the inn, to which meal he usually invited one or more of the farmers. He then rode back to Cambridge, slept an hour or so, and appeared in the Emmanuel “parlour,” where he was the delight of the whole party. People used to come for the week end from London for the pleasure of hearing Farmer’s conversation; and Mr. Pitt was much attachedto him. He was fond of rushing up to London to dine; and one Ash Wednesday morning he announced to his Vice-Chancellor that he had to make haste to get to the University church in time, for at “three o’clock this morning I was blowing my pipe with the worshipful company of pewterers.” Dr. Farmer became Master of Emmanuel; and Gunning suggests that he might have become Head of Trinity for the asking; but when Mr. Pitt sought his advice as to whom he should choose, he simply replied, “If you want to oblige the society, appoint Postelthwaite.” He was a great admirer of Shakespeare, and never missed a performance when a play of his was acted.

But we must leave these quaint personages for a more general view of the life of the University. It had its splendid as well as its sordid side. Dress, as I have already hinted, played a great part in the pageant of the old place. Here is Gunning’s descriptionof the fêtes at Commencement at the end of the summer term:

“On Commencement Sunday, the college walks were crowded. Every doctor of the University wore his scarlet robes during the whole day. Every nobleman wore his splendid robes, not only in St. Mary’s and in the college halls, but also in the public walks. Their robes (which are now uniformly purple) were at that time of various colours according to the taste of the wearers; purple, white, green, and rose colour were to be seen at the same time.”

There was also a good deal of ceremonial at other times; and the barbaric was occasionally mingled with the magnificent, as, for example, at the opening of Stourbridge Fair. This Fair, now a poor and insignificant gathering, was once the most famous in England and had ranked among the great fairs of Europe. In Gunning’s early days much of its splendour remained. At its opening the Vice-Chancellorwith his Bedels and Commissary, the Registrary, the Proctors, and the Taxors, met in the Senate House at eleven, where everybody drank sherry and ate cakes. After this all drove to the Common, and the Vice-Chancellor proclaimed the Fair to be open, the Yeomen Bedels on horseback repeating his words at different parts of the assembly. Then followed a devouring of oysters in what was known as the Tiled Booth, after which the University magnates strolled about the Fair till dinner was ready. It was no easy task to get into the dining-room, because the people outside would not budge to allow the procession to pass, the University being very unpopular because they supplied the mugs in which the beer was sold and these held notoriously short measure. This was the only effort in the direction of temperance we meet with at this period, and that was dishonest. The dinner consisted of boiled pork, herrings, goose, apple-pie, and beef.The wine was bad, but everyone enjoyed himself, despite the heat and discomfort of the Tiled Booth. At half-past six they all went to the theatre. How they got home is not recorded!

Of intellectual pursuits Gunning has little to record. The disputations for degrees continued from the Middle Ages, in which he took part frequently as disputant and, knowing the rules of logic, he was often able to overthrow men of admittedly more learning than himself. There were good scholars and learned men at Cambridge; but we hear more of their schemes, their quarrels, and their amours than of their achievements in the schools.

Porson, the most famous Grecian since Bentley, is hardly if ever mentioned!

It is a strange record of the days of old, and the Cambridge therein described seems to have been in another world than this. Yet some of us were alive when Henry Gunningdied, and I can myself remember characters almost as strange as he depicts. But in all the book there is no one so strange as the writer himself. In it we have the record, not of a diarist, but of an old, old man in his last illness, a man by his own account not devoid of piety or good feeling, yet recollecting every slight, every injury, he had sustained nearly sixty years before, the dislikes of his youth for men long gone to their account being as green and vigorous as they were when he first formed them. One cannot even like him, but nevertheless it is impossible to deny that he can not only amuse but instruct, and that much would have been forgotten but for his dictated notes about the Cambridge of his youth.

It was a nobler University before that age, and it has risen perhaps even to greater heights since. Gunning saw the University of Beverley and the Seniors of Trinity shine once more as the University of Whewelland Macaulay, of Darwin, Tennyson, and scores of great and good men.[24]

That the improvement in days to come may equal if not surpass that which Gunning witnessed is the prayer of him who has made the “Reminiscences” the subject of this lecture.

FOOTNOTES:[18]He means that Cambridge was, and always had been, Liberal and Protestant.[19]A series of letters by Gunning’s devoted nurse, Miss Mary Beart, was published in theCambridge Reviewby Mr. A. T. Bartholomew, of the University Library, and has been reprinted. His “Reminiscences” were not received with favor by the authorities: only one Head of a house, Dr. Benedict Chapman, Master of Caius, appears among the subscribers.[20]The practice of sizars waiting in Hall on the fellows seems to have been discontinued at an early date. Dr. Bass Mullinger alludes to complaints made in the seventeenth century that servants were taking the place of poor scholars. To Dr. T. G. Bonney of St. John’s I owe many valuable hints on this and other subjects of a kindred nature. His “A Septuagenarian’s Recollections of St. John’s,” printed in theEagle, the College Magazine, June, 1909, was most useful to me.[21]The colleges were everything, the University a mere degree-giving Corporation, says the late Mr. J. W. Clark in his “Memories and Customs” (1820-1860), reprinted from theCambridge Review, 1909.[22]Gordon is introduced by Lord Lytton in one of his novels—I think “Pelham.”[23]A caricature of Mr. Peck is preserved in the combination room, Trinity College. He is riding a pony laden with farm produce.[24]In justice to Gunning it ought to be said that men like Adam Sedgewick, the great geologist, regarded him with affection, and during his long illness the lady who attended him as nurse was devoted to him; and her record of the patience with which the old man bore his sufferings referred to above, deserves to be read by those who would form a fair estimate of his character. But whilst not denying my author all good qualities, I maintain that he not only depicts but represents an age singular for its coarseness of feeling and absence of ideals; though, to do him justice, he shewed himself a consistent opponent of the evils of his time in Cambridge.

[18]He means that Cambridge was, and always had been, Liberal and Protestant.

[19]A series of letters by Gunning’s devoted nurse, Miss Mary Beart, was published in theCambridge Reviewby Mr. A. T. Bartholomew, of the University Library, and has been reprinted. His “Reminiscences” were not received with favor by the authorities: only one Head of a house, Dr. Benedict Chapman, Master of Caius, appears among the subscribers.

[20]The practice of sizars waiting in Hall on the fellows seems to have been discontinued at an early date. Dr. Bass Mullinger alludes to complaints made in the seventeenth century that servants were taking the place of poor scholars. To Dr. T. G. Bonney of St. John’s I owe many valuable hints on this and other subjects of a kindred nature. His “A Septuagenarian’s Recollections of St. John’s,” printed in theEagle, the College Magazine, June, 1909, was most useful to me.

[21]The colleges were everything, the University a mere degree-giving Corporation, says the late Mr. J. W. Clark in his “Memories and Customs” (1820-1860), reprinted from theCambridge Review, 1909.

[22]Gordon is introduced by Lord Lytton in one of his novels—I think “Pelham.”

[23]A caricature of Mr. Peck is preserved in the combination room, Trinity College. He is riding a pony laden with farm produce.

[24]In justice to Gunning it ought to be said that men like Adam Sedgewick, the great geologist, regarded him with affection, and during his long illness the lady who attended him as nurse was devoted to him; and her record of the patience with which the old man bore his sufferings referred to above, deserves to be read by those who would form a fair estimate of his character. But whilst not denying my author all good qualities, I maintain that he not only depicts but represents an age singular for its coarseness of feeling and absence of ideals; though, to do him justice, he shewed himself a consistent opponent of the evils of his time in Cambridge.

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