Part 15

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. The whole 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, the Pitt 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 Trumpington Street, 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 are copies. 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 Engineering Laboratory. 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.

XXIII

THE CHURCHES OF CAMBRIDGE

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 of the 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 are small 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 very various 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 shape is 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.

[Illustration: 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 round church 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 Cambridge Camden 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 a _cause 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, and above 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 and Whewell’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 Mr Boott, an American, who wished to erect some memorial to Kirke White in Cambridge.