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nities here, and they fancied that a passage of uncertain meaning in one of his Latin poems, countenanced them in their slander. We need hardly say that, though still often repeated, the assertion is utterly without foundation. If the passage above refered to might at the first glance seem to warrant such a conclusion, other passages in both his Latin and English prose works must entirely remove the supposition. His memory appears to have been from the first and until now warmly cherished here. Whatever of general interest attaches to Christ's College is owing to Milton's connection with it, and the members duly estimate the honour that his name has confered upon them. Tradition has preserved little respecting his residence here. His rooms if they remain are not remembered. The fellows' garden is what is most deserving inspection on its own account, and it contains what is connected with the name of the great poet. A mulberry tree which stands in the middle of one of the lawns, is known as Milton's Mulberry-tree, and the fellows have received, in succession from a date that cannot be much posterior to Milton's day, the tradition that it was planted by him. They may of course be mistaken, but they without exception believe the tradition. | The tree is evidently a very old one, and is only kept from decay by extraordinary care. Several years ago about half of it was blown down in a storm, but the torn part was carefully covered with lead, and al though weakened by the loss of so large a portion, the remainder appears likely to survive for many years. The trunk is now a mere shell, but is carefully propped up, and still annually produces a goodly crop of fruit. Attempts have been made to raise seedlings from it, but they have not been very successful: a couple of young ones however are growing close by it. The gardens of the college are very beautiful-perhaps the most beautiful in the University. The stately horse-chesnut trees were doubtless here when Milton was a student, and we may easily fancy that he not unseldom passed an hour under their shade. About forty years ago one was blown down in a severe storm; it somewhat spoiled the mass of foliage, but that was atoned for by its opening through the gap a view of the turrets of King's College and some other of the collegiate edifices. (Cut, No. 4.) A favourite amusement of the fellows in most of the colleges is the good old after-dinner game of bowls, and there are bowling-greens in many of the fellows' gardens. That at St. John's is an excellent one, but this at Christ's is the best in the University-did John Milton ever play at bowls here? We should say yes. We may mention, that there is preserved in the Combination-room a bust of the blind bard, which is believed to be contemporary. Vertue supposed it to be the work of Pierce; and Brand Hollis, to whom it formerly belonged, of Abraham Simon, both of whom lived in Milton's day. Some artists accustomed to take casts from the life, say that it is moulded from an original cast, as there are impressions of the pores of the skin that are only to be found in such works. The cast is not shown to the public; we have been favoured with

a sight of it, but are too little skilled in such matters to venture an opinion upon its authenticity. The principal deviation in the features from the ordinary portraits of Milton, consists in a greater fulness of the lower part of the face. It appears to have been taken when he was between forty-five and fifty years of age. Another of the choice treasures of the college is a manuscript of Milton's.

The other colleges we must pass by. We cannot visit even Sidney Sussex, where Oliver Cromwell was a student; "entering himself there," as Carlyle expresses it, "curiously enough, of all days on the same day as Shakspere, as his monument still testifies, at Stratford-on-Avon, died." There is nothing of him. retained at this college worth going out of our way to look after, and no traditions worth listening to. Chaucer's college, Clare Hall, is a neat set of buildings, but none are of the old poet's time. The situation is a very pleasant one. Pembroke may be visited for the sake of Thomas Gray, who spent all the latter years of his life in it, in a sort of learned indolence, reading, and making preparations for writing, but always delaying to write. In his Letters he is constantly making querulous allusions to "the quiet ugliness of Cambridge," and complaining of being "ennuyé to the last degree" there-" yet doing nothing." Gray called this college "quite a nest of poets." A great many have been nourished in it-Spenser and Crashaw among others; and it boasts of a famous list of theologians. Emmanuel is known as the Puritan College. It was founded on Puritan principles by Elizabeth's minister, Sir William Mildmay; and the original leaven had so well worked, that from it most of the heads of other colleges were appointed in the Commonwealth period, when the old masters were displaced. There is nothing particularly puritanical about it now. It is situated in St. Andrew-street; and if the stranger thinks fit to visit it-though there is nothing remarkable about it-he may, after having done so, as well go on to Downing College, in order to look at the newest college in the University: he will not care to see it a second time. Downing College is wholly the production of our own day. It was designed by Wilkins; and, as it does not once in an age fall to the lot of an architect to design the whole of a large college, he doubtless put forth all his powers. It is his masterpiece. Probably there was never at any time, in any part of Europe, a college erected so perfectly devoid of everything that any one could possibly conceive to be either graceful or appropriate. That Wilkins could contrive a building ugly beyond expectation, every Londoner has painful experience in the National Gallery; but the marvellous depth of the poverty of his artistical conception can only be understood by one who has seen Downing College. The central portion of the edifice has not been erected; and it is devoutly to be desired that it never may be at least according to the original design. It was some time since proposed to purchase the property, and convert it into the terminus of the railway, when the thing must have

been pulled down; as it would have been impossible to tolerate such a structure for even such a purpose. But, unhappily, the negociation failed. There is one comforting circumstance—the college is placed in such an out-of-the-way situation, that no one is compelled to see it.

When he has examined the college buildings, the visitor must return to the College Walks. They will afford him a delightful stroll. In their way they are quite unique. Beautiful as are the Walks of Oxford, it may be questioned if these do not surpass them. They are straighter and more formal, but certainly have a more academic air. The backs of most of the larger colleges are turned towards the walks, and nowhere else do the buildings present so striking or so beautiful an appearance as from them; indeed, the magnitude and character of the colleges can hardly elsewhere be appreciated. The walks, as we have said, are laid out in avenues of limes, and elms, and horsechestnut; and the various Gothic buildings form a succession of delightful combinations with the masses of rich foliage. Between the walks and the colleges

"Camus, reverend sire, comes footing slow."

and adds not a little to the picturesqueness of the scenery. Along these walks-i.e., between King's and Queen's Colleges-the river is crossed by some halfdozen bridges, of various and some of them of very superior design. The river is indeed but narrow, and does, as Milton says, "come footing slow"-so slow that the motion is scarcely perceptible; but there are seldom wanting a number of pleasure-skiffs to enliven it. On a summer's afternoon the walks have a very characteristic appearance: they are crowded with students-of course in the collegiate habits-who saunter slowly about the groves; or lie along the gently-sloping banks of the river, stretched in every conceivable attitude-some that it would puzzle a Cruikshank to copy, and utterly exceed his imagination to invent: but all the students, whether alone and book-in-hand, or in companionable groups, seem bent on taking their ease. In the evening the walks present quite a different aspect; they are at their gayest then. They are the favourite evening lounge of both the town and the University. Not only sage fellows and promising students, but lovely maidens and grave matrons come hither in the evening-time to enjoy these shady avenues-and the society of each other. And then, too, the river is literally alive with boats and merriment. The expert boatsman then exerts his best skill-the idle looker-on cracks his best joke; altogether the scene is exquisitely characteristic. To one who can appreciate a scene of enjoyment it is very delightful to spend an hour or two here. Looking from the centre of King's College Bridge the scene is really a very interesting one. The river crowded with wherries of every colour, the walks with the collegians in their black and purple gowns, and ladies in dresses of rainbow hues, the trees and buildings glowing and darkening under the declining sun :-all make up a

scene such as no other place-not even Oxford-can show, and such as will dwell in the memory.

The visitant who wishes to see something more of the amusements of Cambridge, may stroll down to Jesus' Green to the Boat-houses; and he will be fortunate if he arrives there in time to see the start of a rowingmatch. He must have some courage if he ventures to follow it along the meadows among the crowd of rushing and shouting partisans-each, as he runs, roaring at the top of his voice the name of his college crew; but he will miss an odd sight if he does not so venture. He should by all means see the bumping.' If, however, his taste does not incline him to take interest in aquatic sports, he may spend an odd half-hour-somewhere between two and four is the best time-in the University cricket-ground, Parker's Piece. To one who has never been present at a college match, the enthusiasm of Cambridge students is a thing worth witnessing.

The

But we must turn to the town. The town has no buildings of its own to show-or at least none making the smallest pretension to architectural display. town is a corporate body, governed by a mayor, and had, at the last census, 23,455 inhabitants; but its public spirit, if it have any, finds vent some other way than in adorning the streets. The churches are, some of them, interesting. St. Mary's is the University church; and the University sermon is preached in it every Sunday during Term-time. The stranger who is in Cambridge on a Sunday, generally attends the afternoon sermon, in order to see something of the University magnates. Two other services are also attended by the stranger with especial interest. The choral service at King's College Chapel in the morning, and at Trinity in the evening. To both of these the admission is, necessarily, by tickets, which must be procured at the porters' lodges on the preceding day, or early on the Sunday morning. We mention this, because we have known of several who have stayed the Sunday at Cambridge especially to attend these services, and have been unable to obtain admission, through ignorance of the arrangement. We cannot help saying, that we think a little more pliability in the rules would be as well-at any rate in the case of strangers.

The other churches must be left unnoticed; but the round church of St. Sepulchre's, whose restoration caused such an angry and unhappy controversy a year or two back, should be inspected. It is one of the most remarkable objects in Cambridge. All the restorations have been most scrupulously conducted; and it is now a beautiful little place, particularly in the inside, and conveys a clearer notion of a church of the olden time than can often be obtained. One or two other churches also deserve a visit. All Saints', opposite the gate of St. John's College, contains the well-known bas-relief, by Chantrey, to the memory of Kirke White. St. Benet's, the church of which Thomas Fuller was some time incumbent, also contains some interesting monuments, as, indeed, do most of the churches.

The Castle, spoken of in a former page, is wholly

gone. We have already said enough of its history; but we may here vary our dry matter-of-fact pages with a wild legend that is related concerning it by some of our older writers, and has been employed by Sir Walter Scott in his Marmion'. Thus it runs :-One evening a stranger knight was entertained in Cambridge Castle. The dinner was over, and the wine and the story flowed freely in the castle-hall. One tale especially attracted the attention of the guest. On the summit of what is now called Gogmagog-hill, is one of the circular earthworks, called encampments by antiquaries, but which in those days were universally ascribed to supernatural power. Within this enclosure it was said unearthly beings were wont nightly to assemble. More than once casual wanderers had been unwittingly observers of their proceedings; one part of which, as all agreed, was the appearance of a knight, clad in complete armour, and mounted on a war-horse of unusual size and jetblack in colour, who formally challenged to deadly combat any mortal who should approach the mystic enclosure. Osburn, for that was the stranger's name, at once resolved to undertake the perilous adventure. Without disclosing his intention he withdrew from the company, and, summoning his faithful squire, set out on his way. The sun had already gone down, but his good steed quickly carried him over the intervening half-dozen miles; and ere the night had fairly closed in he found himself within the dread boundary. He fought, and, by the help of his patron saint, conquered the demon knight, though not without receiving some wounds in the contest. He returned to the castle, bringing the black horse with him as a proof of his victory. This brave knight met a triumphant welcome. While he was feasted in the hall, the horse was fastened in the court-yard with strong cords, and watched by a large part of the company. From the midnight hour the magic steed raged with increasing violence, till as cock-crew it burst its bonds and vanished. Ever after, on the anniversary of that night, the victor's wounds broke forth afresh at the very hour on which he received them from the spear of the demon knight. The site of the Castle is occupied by the County Courts a very neat building of recent erection. A mound, called Castle Hill, on which the keep formerly stood, remains, and should be ascended, for the excellent view of the town obtained from its summit. At the back of St. John's College Garden is a curious old barn-like building, now used as a lumber-store, about which some rather choice bits would attract the eye of the architectural antiquary. But it is also otherwise interesting. Traditionally it is said to be the place in which the companions of Gislebert (see page 115) taught. It is also said that Erasmus gave his Greek lectures in it. We are unable to vouch for the truth of either story. It is a singular old building: some think it formed part of one of the old hostels: it is sometimes called Merton Hall, but is generally known as the School of Pythagoras.

Though the buildings belonging to the town are too mean to attract attention, the conduit in the Marketplace will not escape notice. It is not very ornamental,

certainly, and it reflects little credit on the authorities that it is not made as it easily and at no great cost might be; but it is useful, and has some claim to our regard. It is the benefaction of a very famous Cambridge man-Hobson, the most celebrated of carriers— the Baxendale or Chaplin of his day; whose memory has been embalmed in almost the only jocose verses of our great epic poet; and whose name has come down to our own time, as a household word, in one of the most familiar of proverbs. Milton's 'Lines on the University Carrier, who sickened in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London by reason of the Plague,' are of course well known :

"Here lies Old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,
And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt;
Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here stuck in a slough and overthrown.
"Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had many a time this ten years full
Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.

And so on. The Bull here spoken of was the inn of that name in Bishopsgate-street, London, where in the days of the Spectator, Hobson stood "drawn in fresco, with an hundred-pound bag under his arm, with this inscription upon the said bag :

'The fruitful mother of an hundred more.'"

The proverb arose thus :-To his trade of carrier Hobson added that of letting out horses on hire-a practice “Mr. Hobson kept a he is said to have originated. stable of forty good cattle, always ready and fit for travelling; but when a man came for a horse, he was led into the stable where there was great choice, but he obliged him to take the horse which stood next to the stable-door, so that every customer was supplied according to his chance, and every horse ridden with the same justice: from whence it became a proverb, when what ought to be your election was forced upon you, to say, 'Hobson's choice'-this or none" (Steele, Spectator, No. 509.) While in the market-place the stranger will perhaps look around the market, and if he does he will be sure to notice the only remarkable commodity in it-the butter, which instead of being in the short thick pieces in which he is accustomed to see it, is here rolled out into lengths of a yard to the pound, and about the thickness of a walking-stick; a peculiarity adopted, or continued, on account of the convenience with which it allows the butter to be divided into the 'sizes' used in the colleges. One of the most striking peculiarities in Cambridge For a town of 20,000 is the silence of its streets. inhabitants its quietness is very noticeable. Nor is the surprise excited by the circumstance lessened by recollecting that above 2,000 young men are assembled here, beyond the observation of their friends, with, in most cases, a plentiful supply of money, and just at the most unrestrainable period of life. It at any rate speaks well for the decorous habits of the students, and the discipline of the University. From what is often said. in popular works, we might be tempted to believe the two Universities to be little better than nurseries of

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pered people who look on even the manly sports of the place as mischievous; but in truth they are most valuable. There are, indeed, many students who triumph on the Cam, and in Parker's Piece, -whose knowledge in the arts is chiefly confined to those of 'bumping' and bowling, and whose philological acquisitions are mainly in the language of the stable, and who require skilful coaching' to pass anyhow through the University examination; but then there are more whose rowing and cricketing, so far from interfering with their serious studies, by giving bodily vigour, enables them to go more easily through them and often the crack bat or stroke is well up, if not first in the tripos. There is, of course, a good deal of extravagance in language and conduct observable among the students; but it belongs to their time of life; and the least hopeful of all students is ever the prim, correct, precise, and 'nervous' one. Our Cambridge students are, by the admission of all who know them best, a fine, manly, promising body-earnest in study, respectable in conduct, gentlemen in manners.

We have said nothing of the event which gives Cambridge a temporary interest. The Installation of Prince Albert, as Chancellor of the University. The particulars of it will be best learned from the newspapers. It may however amuse the reader to compare the reception of Queen Victoria with that of Queen Elizabeth nearly three centuries before, and we therefore give a slight sketch of the proceedings on that occasion, from the contemporary materials supplied in Nichols' Progresses of Queen Elizabeth.'

Elizabeth visited Cambridge for the first time in 1564. The anticipation of it excited a great commotion in the minds of the learned body, and many were the preliminary inquiries instituted and the arrangements made, not only as Cecil, who was Chancellor of the University, expresses it "what manner of pleasures in learning might be presented to her majesty," but also "how the town might be preserved from contagion of plague." These we shall not record but proceed to the reception.

All arrangements being completed, Sir William Cecil arrived at Cambridge on Friday afternoon the 4th of August, and was received with much ceremony: an oration was addressed to him; and he in his turn "discoursed at large" of the things necessary to be regarded in the entertainment of the Queen, particularly directing -it is noteworthy as a sign of the times" that uniformity should be showed in apparel and religion, and especially in sitting at the communion table." Then the authorities gave him thanks for his care of the

University, and "presented him with two pair of gloves, a marchpane, and two sugar loaves, and so departed to their lodging." The next morning the Lord High Steward, and Lord Robert Dudley (created a month later Earl of Liecester,) with a considerable retinue arrived on horseback (Cecil, "having a sore leg had come with his lady in a coach") preceded by the Heads of Houses and other officers, who had gone out to meet him, and was conducted with great state to his lodgings in the master's chambers at Trinity College, "the doors and walls thereof were hanged with verses of his praise and welcoming. And the University gave unto his Honour two pair of gloves, a marchpane, and two sugar loaves." Similar gifts were afterwards offered to the other noblemen,

The Queen was to arrive this afternoon. About two o'clock the whole University was assembled at King's to receive instructions. Every man was strictly charged to "keep his place, and all other not to mingle themselves with them :" the scholars were ordered at the queen's passing "to cry out Vivat regina!' lowly kneeling, and after that, quietly and orderly to depart home to their colleges; and in no wise to come to the court, or the disputations, or the plays." Meanwhile the mayor and corporation had gone out to meet her Majesty. When they met her, "at a little above Newnham on horseback, they alighted and did their duties:" the Recorder made her "an oration in English" and the mayor delivered his mace, and "a fair standing-cup which cost £19, and twenty old angels were in it." The mace she restored with a neat compliment; the cup and its contents she handed to one of her attendants. She was then brought into the town, all the streets of which had been carefully covered with sand, except the lane from Queen's College to King's College, which "was strewed with rushes, and flags hanging in divers places, with coverlets and boughs, and many verses fixed upon the wall." When they came into the town by Queen's College, Mr. Secretary informed her Majesty of the several orders of the University, and the scholars, "of what sort they were." Then when she had come about into the middle of where the scholars were collected, two of them came forth, and knelt down, and delivered two congratulatory orations one in prose and one in verse. The like was done by two Bachelors of Arts, and by two Masters of Arts. "And so she was brought among the Doctors, where all the lords and ladies did forsake their horses; and her majesty only remained on horseback." Her Majesty's dress on the occasion was a sufficiently handsome one. It is thus described by the University reporter: "She was dressed in a gown of black velvet pinked; a caul upon her head set with pearls and precious stones; a hat that was spangled with gold, and a bush of feathers."

Then the Queen was conducted by the Mayor to King's College at the gate of which he stayed. King's College was the chief point in the visit of Elizabeth. It was there she lodged during her stay: Trinity College is now considered to be the official residence of the Sovereign when at Cambridge. When she arrived

every man in his hand a torch-staff, for the lights of the play, for no other lights were occupied." The play was ended about twelve o'clock. We should now a little wonder at our Queen going direct from divine service on a Sunday evening to see a play; but how much more if that play were performed in the body of the church, in the choir of which the religious service had just been gone through! The noble chapel must have presented a magnificent spectacle that evening: the queen and court in the gorgeous costume of that time the doctors in their scarlet robes-the stage with its occupants-the chapel hung with the rich arras-the marvellous architecture-all lit up by the red-glare of the multitude of torches,-imagination can hardly paint a more extraordinary picture.

at King's, her Majesty proceeded at once to the chapel, | accompanied by a multitude of guards... having which had been fitted up with great care and splendour for the occasion, being "hanged with fine tapestry or arras of the Queen's, from the north vestry-door round the communion-table unto the south vestry-door; and all that place strewed with rushes." The communiontable and the pulpit were "hanged richly," and on the "south side about the middle, was hanged a rich travas of crimson velvet for the Queen's majesty, with all other things pertaining." At the chapel door she was received by all the University, and the magnates delivered to her their staffs of office, which she "gently and merrily re-delivered unto them." Then, notwithstanding all the speeches she had already listened to, the University Orator came forward and "kneeled down and made his oration in Latin, of length almost half an hour." First he praised the "many and singular virtues set and planted in her Majesty," at which she “shaked her head and bit her lips and her fingers," and gave some good round Latin pishes and pshaws! But when, changing his note, he spoke in praise of the unmarried state, she cried out, "God's blessing of thine heart, there continue." Of his declaration of the antiquity of the University we have already spoken. When he had ended, "she commended him and much marvelled that his memory did so well serve him," protesting "that she would answer him again in Latin, but for fear she should speak false Latin, and then they would laugh at her." She then heard the choral service in the chapel; and frequently reviewing, and marvellously wondering at the beauty of the chapel, "praised it above all other within her realms." As she left the chapel she "thanked God that had sent her to this University, where she, altogether against her expectation, was so received that she thought she could not be better." Having reached the outside of the chapel, the Chancellor "presented unto her Majesty, in the name of the University, four pair of Cambridge double gloves, edged and trimmed with two laces of fine gold; and six boxes of fine comfits and other conceits. . . . which she thankfully took; and went to her chamber:"—we may imagine tolerably well fatigued with her day's entertainment.

The next morning, being Sunday, she again attended service at King's, proceeding to the chapel door under a canopy, borne by four of the oldest doctors; which canopy was afterwards claimed by the Queen's footmen "as their fee" and had to be redeemed for the college by the payment of £3 6s 8d. During service she sat so as to be seen of all the people: the preacher had put off his cap out of respect to her Majesty, but when he had advanced some way in his sermon," she sent the Lord Hunsdon to will him to put on his cap, which he did to the end;" and when he had ended, before Le could get out of the pulpit, she sent word by the Lord Chamberlain to him that "it was the first sermon she had ever heard in Latin, and she thought she should never hear a better." In the evening she again attended the service; and when it was over, she went "to the play, 'Aulularia Plauti,' which was performed on a great stage in the body of the chapel. She was

On Monday morning, Elizabeth attended the disputations at the schools, to all of which she listened right well pleased, as she professed. Nay, when the moderators cut off some of the more prolix of the disputants," she seemed to be offended, saying if she had the moderation, they should not be so abridged."" To these propositions and responses the queen appears to have patiently hearkened from one o'clock till seven ; and at nine she attended at a play called Dido. On the Tuesday there were disputations again, but she was not present at them; but "at night, about the accustomed hour, and in the same manner, her Highness came to the play called Ezechias, in English."

Elizabeth had fairly won the hearts of the University men by her affability. They had done their best to please her, and she had taken all their intentions in good part: and now when it was announced that she would remain here till Thursday, a day longer than was appointed, they seem to have been exceedingly delighted, and the saying sprung up among them that "if provisions of beer and ale could have been made, her Grace would have remained till Friday, so well pleased was she with all things."

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Wednesday morning was spent in visiting the various colleges; in most of which she good-naturedly listened to the interminable orations, and received gifts of gloves, and certain boxes of comfits." This day, two books, "bound in parchment covering, gilt with flowers of gold at the four corners, and knit with a green ribbond string," were presented to her; one containing notices of the colleges, with the names of the founders and benefactors, and lists of the officers and fellows, and of all who had been educated in them, and come to eminence; the other being filled with "all the verses, both of Greek and Latin, Hebrew, Chaldee, and English, which were made of her coming, and otherwise set up in divers places of the town." In returning towards her lodgings, as she rode through the streets, she "talked very much with divers scholars in Latin, and with Latin dismissed them." In the afternoon she heard more disputations in St. Mary's Church. At the end of "her entertainment," the Chancellor, "kneeling down, desired her Majesty to speak something to the University, and in Latin," She, with

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