Blog

2 April 2025

Bolton Priory, in W. Richardson, 'Monastic Ruins of Yorkshire'.  In his 'Modern Painters' (1856), John Ruskin writes of 'the sweet peace and tender decay of Bolton Priory'

The sight of ruins has the power to prompt both melancholy and also a curious kind of pensive pleasure in contemplating the transience in all human and material creation that ruins may represent. In 1953 the novelist and travel-writer Dame Rose Macaulay published her study The Pleasure of Ruins, now seen as pioneering and seminal in subsequent academic studies of how ruins are perceived in very different cultures across the world. In the Edinburgh Review in 1840 Dame Rose’s relative, Thomas Babbington Macaulay, had imagined a future traveller from New Zealand sketching the ruins of St Paul’s Cathedral from a broken arch of London Bridge amidst a totally ruined London (with the ruins of Rome and its once great empire in mind). 

William Richardson’s The Monastic Ruins of Yorkshire (1843) is in two enormous and heavy volumes, profusely illustrated with large lithographed plates (up to 50 x 32 cms), plans, and drawings of architectural details, in chapters devoted to each religious house. Like other books in Emmanuel’s Graham Watson Collection, Richardson’s work testifies to the special place of ruins in the contemporary taste for the picturesque. The Monastic Ruins is also patriotically Yorkshire, published in York and dedicated to the Archbishop of York. The venerable antiquity of Whitby Abbey’s foundation earns it first place at the start of the volumes.

Whitby Abbey: 'one of the most moving ruins in England, on its bare, wind-swept hill ... The weathering  helps enormously to enforce the peculiar ruin qualities' (Pevsner, 'Yorkshire: The North Riding') 

The witness of ruins as the remaining fragments of what was once complete and functioning prompts the imagination to try and reconstruct these buildings in the mind, making up for what has been lost. This can be so with the most minimal surviving ruins, but it is perhaps even more the case where much remains, as in the towering ruins of Kirkstall Abbey.

                                                                                             Kirkstall Abbey

When the Dissolution of the Monasteries was barely beyond living memory Shakespeare could refer to ‘Bare ruined choirs, where once the sweet birds sang’ (Sonnet 73), exemplified by such lofty but abandoned and roofless spaces as at Kirkstall and at Fountains Abbey (the best preserved of English monastic ruins).

                                                                                          Kirkstall Abbey

Fountains Abbey:  'Oh what a beauty and perfection of ruin!!'  (The Hon. John Byng, quoted in Pevsner, 'Yorkshire: The West Riding')

By the eighteenth century the appeal of ruins was such that the makers of landscape gardens sometimes actually created fake ruins as eye-catchers and prompts to reflection. There was no need for this at Fountains or at Rievaulx Abbey, where genuine ruins could be incorporated as features within created landscapes. Fountains Abbey served as the climactic coup de theatre at the end of the garden at Studley Royal, while Rievaulx could be contemplated from above, from a grassy terrace complete with Classical temples.

Rievaulx Abbey. 'When it was all complete ... It must have been a glorious sight, as imposing as any castle and so much more regular and orderly and civilized ... For the picturesque traveller it is an exquisite feast ...' (Pevsner, 'Yorkshire: The North Riding')

Before modern curatorship, that aims to arrest further deterioration and ‘freeze’ the ruin at its present state for the future, part of the melancholy pleasure in ruins was that their further decay, perhaps into complete oblivion, seemed inevitable. Sometimes – as in Richardson’s plate of the remaining ruin at Guisborough Priory – the picture includes pensive human figures. Sometimes the ruins are being inspected by well-dressed Victorian tourists, as in his plate of the chapter house at Howden, where the roof had collapsed as recently as 1750.

                                                                                        Guisborough Priory

Howden Church: chapter house. 'it is in ruins, as is the chancel, and in fact it makes a fine ruin' (Pevsner, 'Yorkshire: York and the East Riding')

Richardson’s plate of Sawley Abbey shows an early Victorian family enjoying a picnic on the grass during a visit to the ruins (note a very large pork pie), but in the background is a glorious landscape which was no doubt also part of their day out, a landscape into which the ruins might eventually be absorbed.

                                                                                             Sawley Abbey

Easby Abbey:  'one of the most picturesque monastic ruins in the county richest in monastic ruins' (Pevsner, 'Yorkshire: The North Riding')

The ‘bare ruined choir’ of Easby Abbey – with vegetation sprouting everywhere from the masonry and with tumbled stones – might suggest that these ruins are well on the way to becoming part of the natural landscape again. The number of Richardson’s plates that show cattle grazing near or amongst the ruins – even if these are cows very aesthetically grouped for picturesque effect – suggests how the ruins are being taken back into the countryside.  

Richardson’s plates of Byland Abbey, with its shattered rose window rising above the Yorkshire landscape, is a striking image of a ruin’s power to summon up something that is gone yet still imaginable in the mind’s eye.

                                                                                            Byland Abbey

The concentration of images of ruined splendour in Richardson’s Monastic Ruins confronts any reader with the sheer scale of destruction and prompts, even now, guilty regret at such cultural vandalism and nostalgia for what is lost. As Byron wrote in Don Juan:     

                                    A grey wall, a green ruin, rusty pike,

                                    Make my soul pass the equinoctial line

                                    Between the present and past worlds … (Canto X)

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

2 April 2025

We have had a recent nice spell of weather in the Emmanuel gardens. It certainly has lifted the spirit of the Garden Team after the many grey months that we have had to endure. With the clocks changing, we will see some prolonged periods of daylight. It’s certainly good for the soul.

March has seen us complete the winter pruning schedules that has taken us through the limbo since Christmas. The early bulbs are just fading only to be replaced by the many wonderful things that the spring plants and bulbs bring us. The splashes of colour, the promise of early flower buds swelling and the perfumes starting to arise.

The grass cutting is now in earnest as the temperatures rise and everywhere just looks and feels that little bit sharper. We continue with our lawn maintenance programme and are amid applying a spring fertilizer to our lawns. As I become more conscious of my environmental responsibilities, I have swapped to an organic seaweed-based fertiliser that is chemical free. This is not only morally the right thing to do but it also comes from a natural sustainable source. It will benefit our lawns’ health and help improve the microbial balance and sequentially release organo minerals.

As we enter the Easter break, I have been busy organising essential tree works to our offsite properties. This includes pollarding the willow tree at the boat house. This process is done approximately every five or six years and always looks very harsh when done. Pollarding is the process of reducing the length of branches back to the major trunks. This will rejuvenate the tree and prolong the life expectancy for us all to enjoy the tree for many years to come. The willow in Chapman’s Garden will be due this year too at some point.

I am very lucky to have an extremely talented Garden Team, each member playing a vital role, and individually and collectively extremely important to the cog that keeps turning. I am especially amazed by the talents of Martin Place. A hard landscaping professional for over 30 years, Martin has been extremely busy since Christmas, lovingly restoring all the memorial benches. The Garden Department do our best to look after these benches, as we are very aware of the memories that they provide for families of past members. I am keen for these to be looked after, and Martin has done a magnificent job in a full restoration this year.

Since completing the benches, Martin has gone on to complete the last piece of hard landscaping left from the new build at the front of Furness Lodge. Martin’s skill in cobble laying has been fantastic and probably the best example of workmanship that I have seen in years. We are very lucky to have him on our team. I thought it would be near impossible to replace our former landscaper, Phil Bland, who retired a year ago. Luckily, we found someone equally as fantastic. Well done, Martin.

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

2 April 2025

L is for … Library

The original college library was housed on the upper floor of a little wing extending towards St Andrew’s Street. It can be identified in an engraving of c.1690 (pictured) by the ‘S’ shaped iron wall brace inserted in 1657. The library is first mentioned in 1587, when its lighting was improved by the insertion of additional windows. An early inventory lists eleven ‘fayre desks of oake’, deal tables, stools, a globe, and wall panels showing celestial maps, Hebrew genealogical tables, and the names of all the college Fellows and benefactors since the foundation. Portraits of Sir Walter Mildmay and his son Anthony presided over the room. Thanks to generous donations, as well as purchases, there was soon an impressive stock of books, but keeping track of them was a challenge. A college order of 1600 prohibited any borrowing without the permission of the Master and Fellows, and ordered that a ‘note of remembrance’ be kept. This measure was clearly ineffective, as a draconian directive of 1609 forbade any borrowing whatsoever, and imposed a ‘mulch’ of 40 shillings on anyone who either removed books or took receipt of them. A stock-check made a year later revealed that 30 volumes were ‘Wanting’, but despite the losses Emmanuel never resorted to chaining its books, unlike some other colleges. As the numbers of both students and books increased, however (there were some 1000 volumes by 1630), it was clear that the library needed to be properly staffed. By 1628 the post of Keeper had been established, with an annual salary of £2.13.4. In the early days, the postholder was always a BA or MA graduate of the college, who was no doubt grateful for the modest stipend. The ban on borrowing was finally lifted in 1654.

L is for … Livestock

Emmanuel’s spacious Paddock was originally called ‘The Great Close’. In the days of the Dominicans it had undoubtedly been used for grazing livestock, and entries in the college accounts show that this continued for many years. In 1588 there is a payment of four shillings and sixpence ‘For tymber to make barrs to keep cattel out of the courts’, and in October 1590 a smith was paid for ‘mending the pump in the cowdytch’. There were stables within the precinct, for in those early days the Master and Fellows frequently hired horses when travelling on college business, and some members of the fellowship may even have kept their own mounts. An entry in the 1635 accounts records a payment of twopence ‘for penny cord to keep the horses off the quicksett’, probably a reference to the newly-planted hedge near Old Court. Perhaps the carving of what looks like a cow on the clunch archway of G staircase (pictured) was inspired by the local livestock. In 1735 the college ‘Horse block’ was repainted in ‘Lead Culler’ and it would certainly have been well-used, as horse-ownership had become common among the fellowship by this time (and would remain so until the railway came to town). The Parlour wager books, which begin in 1769, record many bets made between Fellows about their horses’ performances and other characteristics, and entries show that the purchase and sale of these steeds was generally celebrated with a bottle of wine. The coining of the term ‘Paddock’ in the late-nineteenth century could well be attributable to James Peace, Fellow and Bursar, who had devoted many hours to combing through the college’s early account books. The name was presumably chosen to evoke the days when horses were a delightful feature of the Emmanuel scene.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

5 March 2025

                                                       'Picturesque Gatherings', 'Gille Calum' (The Sword Dance)

Both the Scottish Highlands and their inhabitants as objects of fascination is a development of the Romantic age. In 1775 Samuel Johnson could say that to the inhabitants of southern Scotland ‘the state of the mountains and islands is equally unknown with that of Borneo or Sumatra’. But factors such Sir Walter Scott’s immensely popular novels, and Queen Victoria’s love affair with the Highlands, changed all that. Robert Ranald McIan (1803-1856), who became an artist after an early career as an actor, saw a gap in the market. His Picturesque Gatherings of the Scottish Highlanders (1848) complains that while there are guidebooks to Highland scenery ‘the social state of the Celtic population of Britain is still … but little known’. In his vivid lithographs, McIan, a staunch Jacobite, celebrates and romanticizes how ‘the Gael have preserved a peculiar language, a singular garb, and a mode of life alike to the nomadic, pastoral state of the most ancient people.’

Viewing the Highlanders as survivors of an archaic society includes an emphasis on the prominent role of women in sustaining the community, through domestic activities like washing clothes and spinning.

                                                                                     'Washing Clothes'

                                                                                'Spinning with the Distaff'

Bulky items like blankets would be washed by being trodden by women in streams and rivers, often accompanied by singing. The text laments that the women engaged in spinning with a distaff have adopted some modern fashions, such as a cap, but do keep the old Highland ways in going without shoes (only worn, reluctantly, to church).  

The women shown operating a hand mill within the home are engaged in a laborious process.

                                                                                       'The Hand-Mill'

But other illustrations show women carrying out such arduous tasks as carrying in peat and ferns.

                                                                                       'Carrying Peat'

                                                                                        'Carrying Fern'

Peat and turf were the only materials available for burning on the hearths of the poor. Peat was cut in thin bricks and dried during the summer months, and the woman is shown carrying it in a ‘creel’ or basket. Helping neighbours with peat gathering sometimes became a communal activity undertaken in ‘a spirit of cheerful co-operation, such as a Socialist might envy’. Fern and bracken had many uses, from litter for cattle to use as a durable thatching material for dwellings.

The traditional activities of male Highlanders can become instances of the picturesque in a different way. The spearing of salmon from small boats by night is a Highland custom that lends itself to a striking nocturnal image, while abseiling down a sheer cliff to steal eggs from an eagle’s nest, and be attacked by outraged eagles for one’s pains, provides an exciting action picture of derring-do.

                                                                                    'Spearing Salmon'

                                                                                'Robbing the Eagle's Nest'

Behind many images is a pervasive nostalgia: the text laments over-fishing by net along the coast and predicts the speedy extinction of the salmon, elsewhere complaining about the presence of foreign fishing boats – themes that we seem to have heard more recently too.

An illustration of men threshing (note the refreshments ready in the foreground) remarks that close to this scene are buried twenty men slain in a confrontation in 1645 between the Earl of Argyll and the Marquis of Montrose, for there is always a sense of a landscape storied with past misfortunes.

                                                                                       'Threshing Corn'

                                                                                          'Drovers'

The picture of some drovers refreshing themselves with brose (oatmeal and water) refers to their remarkable journeys, driving cattle from the Highlands to Smithfield, fattening the cattle in pastures in Lincolnshire and East Anglia on the way. These were Highlanders with wider horizons, who needed to speak English and to travel distances at their own expense until they could eventually settle up.

Distance was intrinsic to Highland life, and with it the difficulties in remaining connected, as suggested by the illustrations of fording a river and of a Highland postman.

                                                                                        'Fording a River'

                                                                                'Highland Foot-Post'

The text describes how the Duke of Gordon employed a man both to deliver his messages and to bring back news and gossip, and no doubt this was the role of many messengers in a traditional society.

Subject to oppressive laws after their role in the Jacobite Rising of 1745, the Highlands long had an uneasy relationship with the law. The preparation of malt for private distillation was illegal, hence the secret stills for making whiskey (from the Gaelic 'Uisge beathe’ or water of life), hidden in caves and on moors.

                                                                                     'The Whiskey Still'

                                                                                    'Herring Fishing'

Whole neighbourhoods colluded in concealing distilling and smuggling activity from the hated excise men. In the illustration for preserving salted or smoked herring in barrels, the implication is that the barrels are actually being used to smuggle whiskey.

One illustration celebrates a Highland outlaw from an earlier age.

                                                                             'Ewen MacPhee, the Outlaw'

Ewen MacPhee deserted from a Highland regiment and, after being on the run, took refuge on a tiny half-acre islet in the Caledonian canal. Here he lived meagrely, married a fourteen-year-old wife and had five children, while grazing some goats on nearby land that did not belong to him. Eventually the goats were moved on, but not before Mrs MacPhee pursued the culprits, firing a gun. The islet was purchased by a landowner but, before he could do anything, Mr MacPhee called on the new owner and coolly but very politely informed him that he would never think of molesting him.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

5 March 2025

As I write this latest review, reflecting on the Garden Department's last few months, the sun is shining, and all feels good in the world. It is wonderful to feel the apricity against my skin. Apricity is an archaic word that has been lost from the English language for centuries. Its definition refers to the warmth of sunlight in the winter, and it never caught on to mainstream use after its introduction in the 1600s. It is a term I like to use at this time of year as the first real warmth from the sun. Although we now approach springtime and winter is finishing, this really is the first spell.

The weather this winter has been far from bright, though. At times, it has seen the dullest spell of weather since the 1970s. I will certainly not take this recent spell of sunshine for granted.

We have seen some transitional colour spread through the Emmanuel gardens, though, in the form of early bulb colour. It starts with the Winter Aconites (Eranthis hyemalis), then the Snowdrops appear (Galanthus spp.) and now the Crocus look fabulous under the Oriental Plane tree. These early bulbs bring us joy as we look to leaving those grey days behind us.

The department has been extremely busy these last few months, working hard to complete the enormous winter pruning schedule. We have been busy pruning the hazel, the hydrangeas, the plumbagos, the figs, as well as working our way through the herbaceous borders and cutting away last season’s growth. We will soon see this season’s growth emerge, especially if the warm spell continues.

Another job that the department has been busy with is the restoration of the memorial benches. It is a huge task to clean, sand down and re-protect all the memorial benches on site. We want to maintain these benches for many years to come, so that the Benefactors can see them used for as long as possible. The Garden Department appreciate the donations, so we like to give some love back by taking the time to look after the benches that have been donated.

The Community Garden is building its community too. Although the weather has been poor, I have put on some sessions sowing seeds in the glasshouses. These plants can be used on the college raised beds in good time. It is great to see many students and Fellows working together, learning and trying out new skills. As the weather improves, we can turn our attention to the plots. It is a great place to unwind and provide some light relief from studying. The mental health benefits from community-led gardening are hard to measure but the smiles on people’s faces are a good indicator.

Shortly, the growing season will start in earnest. We have already had to make a start on some of the lawns. The buds on the trees and the flowers are starting to swell. The Magnolia in the Jester Garden is an excellent example that Spring is on its way. It won’t be too long before it flowers, so make sure you don't miss it. As beautiful as the flowers are, they unfortunately do not last very long and can start to drop after a sharp frost or a strong wind.

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

5 March 2025

K is for … King James Bible

The ‘King James Bible’ is one of the most celebrated works in the English language. A new translation of the bible was sanctioned by James I and VI at the Hampton Court Conference of January 1604, a gathering to which Laurence Chaderton, Master of Emmanuel College, had been invited. One-third of the translation work was assigned to eminent Cambridge theologians, four of whom were connected with Emmanuel: Chaderton, of course, and current or former Fellows William Branthwaite, Samuel Ward and John Richardson.  Chaderton and Branthwaite were part of the First Cambridge Company, responsible for translating I Chronicles to the Song of Solomon, while Ward and Richardson were in the Second Cambridge Company, working on the Apocrypha. A fifth Emmanuel man, William Eyres, assisted the First Company. The translators were unpaid, at least until the later stages of editing, but their dioceses or colleges were enjoined to give them financial support. The college accounts for the years following 1604 record the Emmanuel translators making frequent trips to London, where they no doubt divided their time between college business and Cambridge Company duties. The King James Bible was finally published in 1611, but the oft-quoted date of ‘2nd May’ is apocryphal. It was on sale by November, and the college records tend to support this later publication date, as an entry noting payment for ‘the new translated byble’ appears in the accounts for the half-year following 23 October 1611. The college paid 50s for the handsomely-bound volume, plus a carriage fee of 1/6. This bible is preserved in the library’s rare books collection. It is a superb first edition ‘He-bible’, so-called because of an ambiguity in the Book of Ruth that was quickly altered to ‘She’ in subsequent printings. A double page from the almanac section is pictured.

K is for … Kitchens

The kitchens may not be the spiritual heart of the college, but they have been fundamental to the contentment and good health of countless generations of residents. In the early period of Emmanuel’s history, the domestic affairs of the college were under the overall control of the Steward, who was always a member of the Fellowship. The day-to-day running of the kitchens, though, was in the hands of the manciple, who had charge of the keys of the pantry and buttery, kept the accounts, and dealt with ‘the baker, the brewers and the butchers’. The earliest kitchen inventory was made in 1589. This recital of archaic battery ware opens with the entry: ‘One great brass pott geven by our Founder’, and goes on to list such things as a ‘possnett’, a ‘Minsing Knyff’, beef and mutton spits, a ‘Cliver’, pot-hooks, a ‘little kettle with three feet’, a ‘grydiron’, mortars, pestles, chafers and trivets. Meals were prepared by the senior cook, with the assistance of an under-cook, whose duties included washing-up. They employed their own scullions (popularly known in Cambridge as ‘skulls’), who did the really menial work. In 1613, two undergraduates were disciplined for ‘pumping the skull twise’, an unpleasant piece of horseplay that involved drenching the scullion under the kitchen pump. This misdemeanor was aggravated by the fact that it involved trespass, for a college order of 1588 had forbidden students from entering the kitchens. The rambling complex (pictured) was, nevertheless, the setting for several brawls, presumably because it offered budding ruffians a sporting chance of evading the watchful eyes of the Fellows, who made regular patrols. A more serious affray was the college ‘Riot’ of 16th April 1742, when many windows, including some in the kitchens, were smashed. The participants were disciplined and the two ringleaders rusticated.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

5 February 2025

J is for … JCR

The phrase ‘Junior Common Room’ (JCR for short) once referred to the undergraduate student body, but this usage is now archaic. The term was also applied to the room that incorporated the students’ bar, a facility that opened in 1955. The college authorities had agreed to the setting up of a JCR bar with some trepidation. Strict rules of conduct forbade female guests, the serving of spirits, and the removal of alcoholic drinks from the room. Opening times were also restrictive. In the event, the fears proved groundless, not least because the JCR’s inconvenient location, tucked away in the attic above the Old Library, prevented it from being well-patronised. When South Court was being designed in the mid-1960s, the architect was asked to incorporate a new JCR on the ground floor, where it would be easily accessible. Predictably, perhaps, it proved to be all too accessible, and repelling ‘barbarian invaders from other Colleges’ was a recurring problem. Gatecrashing apart, incidents of anti-social behaviour were rare, but an exception was the revelry following a certain sporting club’s annual dinner in April 1987, that left the JCR in a sorry state. The bar underwent a dazzling revamp in 1996 (pictured), this being the last hurrah of the mastership of Lord St.John of Fawsley, formerly the politician Norman St.John-Stevas. With the Master’s active encouragement and guidance, the JCR was transformed from what he called a ‘Grottsville’ drinking den into an attractive and ‘uninebriated social centre for the benefit of all’. The room continues to fulfil this wholesome function, having recently metamorphosed into Fiona’s café and social hub. The new student bar is housed within Young’s Court, but it is no longer referred to as the JCR, as it welcomes not only undergraduates, but also grads, Fellows, old members and staff.

J is for … Jester

In 1979, through the good offices of the late Dr Ronald Gray, Fellow of Emmanuel, the college secured the loan of an important open-air artwork. The piece in question was Henry Moore’s moving, but unsettling, Warrior with Shield. Its recall by the Henry Moore Foundation in 1987, after the artist’s death, left such a gap (literally and metaphorically) that the college was keen to acquire another sculpture as soon as possible. These hopes did not come to fruition, however, until the advent of Lord St.John of Fawsley, whose term as Master began in 1991. With a longstanding interest in the arts, Lord St.John was at that time Chairman of the Royal Fine Art Commission. It was thanks to his fund-raising efforts that the college secured donations from two particularly generous benefactors, enabling it to acquire a stunning sculpture by the acclaimed artist Wendy Taylor. Jester was installed at Emmanuel in 1994, on the same spot that Warrior had occupied. Unfortunately, an exceptionally wet spring had left the Paddock waterlogged and the first attempt to set up the sculpture had to be abandoned. As Lord St John put it: ‘Poor Wendy had to remove her half-ton bauble as though it were a garden gnome…’. The second endeavour proved successful. The Master described Jester as a ‘green bronze with a gilded edge and being literate as well as naturalistic fits in well with its collegiate and pastoral setting’. He hoped, moreover, that it would demonstrate to ‘students and others the importance, beauty and relevance of modern art’.  This marvellous bronze is – or creates the illusion of being – miraculously balanced on a tiny point. With its witty evocation of Classical comedy masks, Jester is a beloved and much-photographed feature of the college grounds.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

8 January 2025

Last week, the Garden Department returned to work after a very well-deserved break. Prior to Christmas, the team had the annual big push to try and clear up all the leaves by the Christmas cut-off point. This brings to the end a gigantic task that starts in October.

What this does mean, though, is that we can start the new year fresh. It certainly is a myth that gardeners have a chance to put their feet up in January and February! This period is often one of the Garden Department’s busier times. We have a winter pruning schedule ahead of us now that will take around two to three months to complete.

The department turns its attention to the more formative pruning that is required at this time of year. We have many Wisteria plants on site that require their seasonal prune as well as tying back into the plant supports. The apple trees need pruning, the new Plane trees will need the seasonal trim, the climbing roses will need pruning and training, the lime trees will need pollarding, the hazels will need thinning out and the trees around the site will need attention.

At this time of year, we look to start cutting back our herbaceous borders where we can. We leave as much growth as we dare so the insects have somewhere for shelter. There are so many borders within the college that we simply cannot leave it all until springtime to do. We must start in the winter periods to ensure we complete it all. With some of the borders having been trimmed down, we can then apply some mulch to the borders. This is in the form of our homemade compost that the departments create throughout the year.

This not only smartens up the appearance of the borders but also suppresses the weeds, locks in moisture and adds some additional nutrition to the soil. The Garden Department tries to be as sustainable as possible by using its own compost and leaf mold. This means that there is less garden waste being taken away off site. We process more garden waste than ever now, meaning that we buy less compost and do not contribute to unnecessary transportation.

The first task of the year always starts with taking all the Christmas trees down around the college. This is a stark reminder that all the partying is done and time to roll up our sleeves and focus on the pruning!

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

8 January 2025

I is for … Inscriptions

Inscribed stones and plaques can be seen all around the college, celebrating such things as Emmanuel worthies and benefactors, the planting of notable trees, and the completion of new college buildings. An example of the latter is the Latin datestone set into the library façade (pictured). This records, a touch cryptically, the building’s completion in the 325th year of the college’s foundation (i.e.1909). Prior to the twentieth century, nearly all the college’s inscriptions consisted of memorial tablets or gravestones, and were confined to the chapel and its cloister. There was one exception, however: the Latin epigraph displayed on the imposing stone archway housing the main college entrance gates, in Emmanuel Street. Shortly before the college’s 1587 dedication feast, at which the Founder, Sir Walter Mildmay, was to be present, workmen were paid to take ‘downe the great gates and sett them up agayne’. There is no mention of the inscription, though, so it is not certain whether it was installed then, or subsequently. According to Francis Blomefield’s 1751 work, Collectanea Cantabrigiensa, the wording of the inscription was: Sacrae Theologiae Studiosis, posuit Gualterus Mildmaius Ao. Dne. 1584 (‘Founded by Walter Mildmay for the study of sacred theology in the year of our Lord 1584’). When the main college entrance was translocated to St Andrew’s Street in the 1770s, the original gateway presumably became largely redundant, but is thought to have survived until 1824, when New Court was constructed. The inscription appears to have then perished with the rest of the archway. One day, if the opportunity arises, it could perhaps be carved anew somewhere in college.

I is for … Inventories

Any large institution needs to know what it owns. Four years after Emmanuel’s foundation, the following payment appears in the college accounts: ‘For two paper… inventorie books for the College - vs iiid’. The earliest inventory was made in 1589, immediately after these books had been purchased. It comprised a list of moveable goods kept in the chapel, hall, parlour and kitchen complex. Similar room-by-room inventories continued to be made for some years, but as the college grew, so did its collection of valuables, and before long it became necessary to have separate listings of things like library books and silverware. These early college inventories are both fascinating and frustrating. They record many objects that have since been lost, sold, or melted down and re-fashioned. We read, for instance, of the ‘doble gylt’ cup used at high table by the first Master, the dozen ‘knopt spoones with Lions head att the end’, the stained-glass panels in the chapel windows showing ‘the Queenes armes’, the ‘movable hearth of Ironn’ in the dining hall, and the ‘Celestiall maps in frames’ hung in the library. Conversely, the inventories omit many things that were certainly here.  The celebrated Founder’s Cup, for instance, is not mentioned until 1622, but only because the treasury, where it was kept, was not included in the room listings before that date. Similarly, a good many college paintings are not recorded until the first comprehensive picture inventory was compiled in the late eighteenth century, even though some of them had certainly been in college ownership for many years. Emmanuel has a particularly fine series of early library book inventories (a detail from one is pictured), which record an impressive range and quantity of scholarly works. What the inventories don’t show, of course, is how many students actually read any of the books!

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

8 January 2025

                                   Nikolaus von Heideloff, ‘The Gallery of Fashion’ (1794-1802): ‘Opera Dress’, June 1796

As those jumpers emblazoned with reindeer and Santas are mothballed again for another year, and as retailers report ever-declining sales of suits, ties and formal shirts (due partly but not entirely to ‘Working from Home’), Emmanuel’s Graham Watson Collection of illustrated books witnesses to almost unrecognizably different assumptions about clothes, the wearing of which were governed by conventions of formality and decorum.

Most formal of all was the court dress required when wives and daughters of peers and the landed gentry were presented at court. By the second decade of the nineteenth century this had become fossilized into the fashions current fifty years before, because Queen Charlotte resisted any change to the old ways. Dress for women was an outfit with a very wide-hooped petticoat, a train, and ostrich feathers in the hair.

                                                             ‘Gallery’, ‘Court Dress’, July 1796 and February 1796

Presentations were fraught occasions (fraught too for ostriches perhaps), entailing standing for hours and, after being presented, walking backwards out of the room while trying not to trip over one’s train (one could not turn one’s back on the Queen). British court dress of the period for men is the ancestor of some traditional attire of the judiciary.

Another formal observance manifested through clothing, which became progressively more widely observed, was that of mourning.

                                                                   ‘Gallery’, ‘Mourning Dress’, January 1797

In the earlier nineteenth century mourning practice was not yet as codified as it later became once the widowed Queen Victoria adopted mourning as a vocation and lifestyle. Periods of mourning were as yet more flexible and open to individual discretion, but already some of the expected durations of mourning were broadly in place. Widows and widowers were to mourn for a year and a day. For a parent or child, mourning was six months to a year. For a sibling, three to six months. For a grandparent, six months. For aunts and uncles, three months. For a first cousin, six weeks. For a second cousin, one week. Considering the fragility of life at the time, people could easily spend a good proportion of their time in mourning, and mourning was also worn for members of the Royal Family. However, there was the useful gradation of ‘half-mourning’ in attire, into which one might move for the latter part of the mourning period.

                                                                    'Gallery’, ‘Half-Mourning Dress’, May 1798

                                          ‘Gallery’, ‘Mourning Dress (left) and Half-Mourning Dress (right)’, August 1794

Although black with some allowable white characterized full mourning (with no jewellery except jet), the concept of half-mourning allowed a transitional period when clothes in lavender, grey, brown, and black and white mixtures were allowable (and pearls and amethysts might be worn).

Only the affluent, of course, could afford the outfits in the fashion plates, but such publications made images of such mourning fashions available to be imitated throughout the country in amateur dress-making. Jane Austen’s letters indicate how much improvisation and make do and mend went on regarding the observance of mourning through attire in genteel circles in Hampshire.

Many fashion plates illustrate what are termed ‘Morning Dresses’, though these do not define a specific design, only the time of day they might be worn, since mornings were for such different activities as walks, visits to shops, and church services.

                                                                      ‘Gallery’,  ‘Morning Dresses’: June 1800

                                                                                           October 1801

                                                                                          August 1799

                                                                                              July 1800

Mornings were also for down time at home, in accordingly simple attire, very often in white. (The wider fashion for white may go back to a white dress worn by Marie Antoinette in the 1780s which, in its very simplicity and lack of ornament, was considered risqué). Afternoons were for the paying and receiving of formal calls, with clothes to match.

                                                                       ‘Gallery’, ‘Morning Dress’, August 1799

                                                                      ‘Gallery’, ‘Afternoon Dress’, March 1798

There were also fashionable outfits for going riding, and for such evening occasions as operas and concerts.

                                                                             ‘Gallery’, ‘Riding Dress’, June 1799

                                                                       ‘Gallery’, ‘Evening Dress’, June 1795

To a modern eye all these Regency fashions exemplify extremes of the very high or ‘Empire’ waistline, associated with the Empress Josephine. Fashionable waistlines were actually at their highest between 1816 and 1819, but most fashion plates of the whole period exaggerate for effect the drop between waistline and floor.

All the aquatint plates in this blog are from the preeminent fashion plate book of the age, The Gallery of Fashion, issued in monthly instalments between 1794 and 1802.

It was the work of Nikolaus von Heideloff (1761-1839), born in Stuttgart and trained as an engraver. As a young man he worked in Paris painting portrait miniatures, but moved to London at the French Revolution. The hand colouring of his plates is exceptionally refined.

                   ‘Gallery’, ‘Morning Dress’, June 1798 (the display of cleavage is unusual in contemporary English fashion)

Heideloff claimed that the garments depicted ‘are not imaginary but really existing ones’ and as such form ‘a Repository of English National Dresses of Ladies’. In this present age of willed slovenliness it can seem like a lost world of elegance.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

11 December 2024

The Christmas story is told in tinted drawings in one of the older of the medieval manuscripts in Emmanuel’s collection, some leaves from a Psalter (MS 250.2).

These were made around 1220-1230 in a workshop of London illuminators for the Benedictine abbey of Chertsey in Surrey. They are thus a little older than the church of the Cambridge Dominican friars, the church that later would be repurposed into Emmanuel’s present Hall. The Cambridge Dominicans are recorded to have received royal oaks for their church in 1238.

The story begins when an angel appears to Mary, telling her that she shall conceive a son, to be named Jesus, ‘and of his kingdom there shall be no end’.  To Mary’s question ‘How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?’ the angel replies ‘The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee’ (Luke 1: 28-38).  

The Annunciation. The angel’s scroll represents part of his speech. Interrupted at her reading, no wonder Mary’s gesture and averted gaze seem to convey astonishment at her destiny

The angel further tells Mary that her cousin Elizabeth, previously called barren, is already six months pregnant in her old age, ‘for with God nothing shall be impossible’. Mary hastens to visit her cousin, and when Mary comes in, Elizabeth feels her baby leap in her womb at Mary’s salutation, and cries out to Mary ‘Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb’ (Luke 1: 39-56).

                                     The Visitation. Note the hand reaching forward towards the other woman’s womb

Joseph travels with his expectant wife Mary to Bethlehem in order to be taxed. But Mary is due to give birth, ‘and she brought forth her firstborn son and, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn’ (Luke 2: 1-7). 

The Nativity. In medieval depictions Mary is sometimes shown, as here, turned away from her newborn baby to pursue her own thoughts. Joseph, leaning on a stick, wears the pointed hat that in medieval illustration indicates a Jewish man

Meanwhile, the angel of the Lord appears to shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night, and tells of the birth of a Saviour, whom they will find lying in a manger (Luke 2: 8-20). 

The angel, bearing a palm, addresses three shepherds, who stand on a stylized landscape of three hills with sheep – their dogs are very interested in the angel

‘Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem … behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, “Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him”’ (Matthew 2: 1-2).

Although guided by a star according to scripture, the artist shows the Magi – here depicted as crowned kings – in some confusion about the right direction to go

Rattled by this news of a rival Jewish king, Herod summons the wise men and sends them to Bethlehem to seek out the child, adding duplicitously ‘and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also’ (Matthew 2: 3-8).

A crowned King Herod, seated in a swaggering posture, and with a tiny page holding his sword before him, seems to be almost squeezing the crowned Magi against the righthand edge. (They are depicted, according to tradition, as representing youth, middle age, and old age)

‘Lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was’. The wise men fall down and worship the child, presenting him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh (Matthew 2: 9-11).

Adoration of the Magi.  Mary is shown crowned and enthroned, holding up an orb from which a plant springs, while the three kings hold their gifts aloft

‘And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way’ (Matthew 2: 12). 

Slumbering on luxurious pillows, the three kings have gone to bed while still wearing their crowns (as one does). But, contrary to scripture, the artist represents the youngest king awake to receive the angel’s warning

Joseph is similarly warned by an angel in a dream to flee with Mary and Jesus to safety in Egypt, beyond the reach of King Herod (Matthew 2: 12-15).

The Flight into Egypt.  Joseph leads the donkey, with an assistant behind. Many apocryphal miracles became associated with this refugee journey

Then Herod – enraged ‘when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men’ – orders the massacre of all children under the age of two in the vicinity of Bethlehem (Matthew 2: 11). 

The Massacre of the Innocents.  Two knights wearing contemporary chainmail murder children in their mothers’ arms with sword and spear. To the right, Herod supervises, crowned and sceptred, and in a lordly cross-legged posture

The Christmas story closes at Candlemas on 2 February, when Mary and Joseph present the child to the Lord in the temple. A devout old man, Simeon, to whom it has been revealed that he shall not die until he has seen Christ, takes the child in his arms, blessing God and uttering the words ‘Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace’. 

                                                   Presentation in the Temple.  Joseph carries an offering of doves

Although these fragile leaves, eight centuries old, visualize the Christmas story in some different ways than later art has shaped later imaginings of the episodes, they possess their own energy, directness and power.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

11 December 2024

The Christmas cards sent out in 1911 by the Master of Emmanuel College and his wife (Dr Peter Giles, and Mary) featured a photograph of the rather dilapidated tenements fronting the eastern half of Emmanuel Street. This un-Christmassy image was presumably chosen because it offered a ‘Last Chance to See’. Indeed, by the time the cards were sent out, the entire row of buildings had been razed to make way for North Court.

The plot of land on which North Court now stands had been purchased by Emmanuel College from John Atkinson, yeoman, for £400 in July 1612. It comprised ‘Nyne messuages or tenements with gardens and two barnes adioyning…next the lane late called Preachers lane and nowe called Emanuell Colledg lane on the south’. The sitting tenants comprised a clerk, a widow, a yeoman, a brasier (brass worker), a tailor, two cooks, a baker, a bricklayer and an ‘aquaviteman’ (maker and/or seller of spirits). Perhaps Emmanuel’s Master and Fellows foresaw that the college would one day want the land for the purpose of expansion, but in any case, the college authorities were building up a rental and commercial property portfolio in Cambridge, and sites adjacent to the college precinct were particularly prized. Emmanuel already owned the cottages running along the western half of Emmanuel Street, for example, as well as the substantial dwelling-house, called St Nicholas’s Hostel, on the other side of the Atkinson property.

By the early 1900s, with student numbers rising steadily, Emmanuel badly needed additional accommodation, and commissioned designs for a new court from Leonard Stokes, one of the leading architects of the day. Stokes immediately got the bit between his teeth, and produced several grandiose building schemes that would have encroached on both the Fellows’ Garden and the Paddock – one of them even requiring the pond to be filled in! The college firmly rejected these high-flown proposals, deciding instead that the new court would be erected on the Atkinson site, once the existing buildings had been swept away. Stokes submitted a choice of new designs, the preferred option being formally sanctioned by Emmanuel’s governing body in October 1910. The building works were scheduled to be carried out in two phases, to allow the Emmanuel Street tenants as much time as possible to move out. Demolition work got under way in earnest in the summer of 1911.

At the time the Master’s Christmas card photo was taken, in late 1910 or early 1911, four of the nine tenements mentioned in the 1612 conveyance were still standing, numbered 13-16 Emmanuel Street. The remaining properties had been rebuilt at various times. While we might now regret the loss of the picturesque Elizabethan houses, the college authorities were unanimously enthusiastic at the prospect of replacing the tottering tenements with a prestigious new building. As it turned out, North Court even exceeded expectations and was much-praised, then and afterwards. The Architectural Review, for example, described it as ‘a remarkably effective piece of work, full of vigour’, while the architectural historian Sir Nikolaus Pevsner considered the court to be one of the finest Edwardian buildings in Cambridge. It is of some consolation then, that the historic properties in eastern Emmanuel Street were at least replaced with a structure of high architectural merit – something that cannot be said about a good many other ancient Cambridge properties that fell victim to the wrecking ball in the twentieth century.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

28 November 2024

As I write this blog, I have just returned to the office having spent many hours clearing leaves. Even before I could get into the office this morning, I had to fight with the oriental plane tree leaves that had fallen over a very blustery weekend. The leaves were at least six inches deep and as far as the eye could see in the garden yards. It certainly wakes you up at that time in the morning. I typically arrive at work at 6:30am to plan my day.

The next step of the day involves a site tree survey. After a blustery weekend (gusts up to 60mph), it is essential to check the trees for damage and make sure that there are no dangerous limbs hanging. As much as this is an essential task, it is always a great excuse to stop and really look at our amazing collection of trees. The Emmanuel grounds are blessed to have so many wonderful trees. The beautiful autumn colours looked fantastic in the bright sunshine.

I often use this period when we are looking at trees to educate my staff at this time of year. Those who have been working with me for a while already have been taught, but there are the newer members of the team, the students we have working here.

As a Head Gardener, a lifetime of experience has drawn me ever closer to the fantastic nature of trees. I am a full on dendrophile. A dendrophile is a person who loves trees. A passionate dendrophile talks about the characteristics of different trees as if describing people. That’s me. A dendrophile.

It is so easy to set a task to the team of clearing leaves, but how many really think about it? I like to stop and teach the team about identification, characteristics, form and structure, botany and plant science and open discussions about tree management and the role that it plays in securing the future of our planet. Never in the history of the world have trees been more important.

At Emmanuel, there are many leaves to pick up. Day, after day, after day. For months on end. Weirdly, my team genuinely does not mind it. Yes, it is relentless, monotonous, and very much like ground hog day, but as gardeners we understand. We understand that you do not get the good bits without the collection. The by-product of beauty. We understand that teamwork will get us through. We share the passion for the trees, and we do this on behalf of all of you all, but also for ourselves.

The Ginko biloba (Maiden Hair Tree) has looked amazing this year. The sunlight hits perfectly to show off its radiant glow of gold. The fruits, however, are not so pleasant. They really do smell when they fall to the ground. The Ginko biloba seeds are protected by the fleshy sarcotesta. The sarcotesta is full of foul-smelling butyric acid, which also forms when butter goes rancid. Spare a thought for all our garden team as they clear the Ginko seeds along with the golden carpet that is the under canopy of the Ginko. 

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

27 November 2024

                                 ‘Kyles of Bute’, in J. C. Schetky and Lord John Manners, ‘A Cruise in Scotch Waters’ (1850)

Just before St Andrew’s Day seems an apt moment to explore depictions of Scotland’s scenery in Emmanuel’s collection of illustrated books. The transformation in taste has often been described, in which those upland parts of Britain that had previously been viewed as ugly and terrifying in their barrenness and isolation became venerated as sites of the picturesque and the sublime. That only a very selective glimpse can be provided here of all the images of Scotland’s mountains and coasts in the College’s Graham Watson Collection makes its own point about a developing admiration, in which its scenic beauty is a key part of modern perceptions of Scotland.

Even a volume presenting fine panoramas of Scottish cities and towns will necessarily include picturesque prospects, as in this view of Melrose in the Borders.

                                 J. Clark, ‘Views in Scotland’ (1824-25).  Now a very rare book, with 32 splendid plates

When it comes to depictions of Highland landscape, these tend to allow vastness its fullest measure by placing the viewpoint of the picture on the valley floor, surrounded and towered over by mountains.

           ‘In Glen Nevis’, in Schetky and Manners, ‘Scotch Waters’. This book is illustrated with fine hand-coloured lithographs

                                          ‘Inverlochy Castle, by Fort William’, in Schetky and Manners, ‘Scotch Waters’

Some of these towering mountains rise with jagged dark peaks seen against the sky. Expanses of water are frequently emphasized, on which boats look like toys in the shadow of the mountains. 

    ‘The Coolin from Loch Slapin, Skye’, in William Daniell, ‘A Voyage round the North and North West Coast of Scotland’ (1820)

                                                                         ‘Loch Scavig’, in Daniell, ‘Voyage’

Both uses of colour and absence of colour underline the stark strangeness of some of the formations depicted. 

‘Loch Avon, in G. F. Robson, ‘Scenery of the Grampian Mountains’ (1819). Robson’s original sketches survive for the plates in this book. Engraved by Henry Morton, the plates were ‘coloured from original drawings made on the spot by the author’.

                                 'Entrance to Fingal’s Cave’, in William Daniell, ‘Illustrations of the Island of Staffa’ (1818)

Nor does the colouring in a volume devoted to views in the Grampian Mountains shy away from depicting landscapes in light that suggests that rain is never far away.

                                              ‘Ben Vorlich from the north side of Loch Earn’, in Robson, ‘Scenery’

                                              ‘Ben More from the north side of Glen Dochart’, in Robson, ‘Scenery’

The special place of water, mobile and potent, is represented in numerous images of the Scottish coastline, whether this is sheer cliffs in Shetland or the distinctive geology of the island of Staffa with its Fingal’s Cave. 

                                                           ‘Knoop of Noss, Zetland’, in Schetky, ‘Scotch Waters’

                                                                   ‘Near Fingal’s Cave’, in Daniell, ‘Staffa’

Also part of seascapes are striking natural features like Clett Rock, with flocks of wheeling seabirds, or a picturesquely ruined castle, perched precariously on a beetling crag on the Hebridean island of Raasay. 

                                                                          ‘Clett Rock’, in Daniell, ‘Voyage’

                                                                 ‘Castle Broichin, Raasay’, in Daniell, ‘Voyage’

In these landscapes and seascapes, human figures, where they appear, are dwarfed. But there are other volumes – devoted to customs and costumes, pastimes and employments – where this is reversed, and landscape forms the background to a human focus. Here are Highlanders collecting dulce, a kind of edible seaweed that was a staple of their diet. The accompanying text recalls the hunger and privations of past times of famine, celebrating the mutual support between one member and another that is part of the clan system. 

R. R. McIan, ‘Picturesque Gatherings of the Scottish Highlands’ (1848). The title-page promises ‘Picturesque Groups engaged in their social employment, their sports, and pastimes’.

                                                                              McIan, ‘Picturesque Gatherings’

Here too are young Highland men competing in the sport of throwing the stone, watched by demure young women who are less colourfully dressed and all with identical hairstyles.  In the distance people make their way to the gathering, strung out across a Highland path.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

27 November 2024

H is for … Henry VIII

Given that Emmanuel College was not founded until 1584, any connection with Henry VIII might be thought somewhat tenuous. Yet Emmanuel owes both its existence and its location to the events of Henry’s reign. The momentous break with Rome ultimately allowed Protestant reformers to flourish, including Emmanuel’s founder, Sir Walter Mildmay, who would later possess the zeal (and money) to foster the dissemination of the new faith. Furthermore, had Henry VIII not authorised the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 1530s, the premises occupied by the Dominican order in Cambridge would not have come onto the open market, and later been acquired as the site of Mildmay’s new college. The college archives contain two royal charters sanctioning the sale of confiscated monastic property. These deeds, known as licences to alienate, bear the ‘Great Seal’ of Henry VIII. The earlier one, dated 1540 (above left) relates to an estate in Eltisley, Cambridgeshire, formerly owned by the nunnery of Hinchingbrooke.  This property was later acquired by Emmanuel, but the grantee in 1540 was ‘Richard Williams alias Crumwell’, nephew of Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII’s chief minister. The grant was sealed a few days before Cromwell was created Earl of Essex, a title he did not enjoy for long. The other licence to alienate (above right), dated 2 March 1545, authorises the sale of the Dominican premises in Cambridge, later home to Emmanuel College. A comparison of the two seals shows that a new matrix had been created during the intervening period. Designed in 1542 by Morgan Phillips alias Wolfe, the king’s goldsmith, the new seal reflected - somewhat belatedly - the changes that had taken place in the king’s appearance, including the style of his robes, his hair (shorter) and his weight (much heavier).

H is for … Hobson

The phrase Hobson’s choice, meaning ‘take it or leave it’, is still in popular use, centuries after it was coined. It alludes to Thomas Hobson, a wealthy Cambridge carrier and livery-stable owner, who hired out his horses in strict rotation, regardless of a client’s preference. Hobson is mentioned several times in our college accounts. In 1588 he was retrospectively paid for transporting pewter and other chattels from London, doubtless in connection with Emmanuel’s December 1587 dedication feast. The cartage included a payment of 16s 6d ‘for carrying the parlor table waying 500 & a half’. Later in the same year Hobson supplied the college with three horses, ‘one to goe upp, th’other to come down’ (but what about the third?), at a cost of 5s per horse. Soon afterwards he delivered ‘D[r] Fulks book’ to the college, doubtless one of several volumes by William Fulke listed in an early library inventory. In 1590 Hobson was entrusted with ‘bringing downe O[u]r founders picture hampiers 4 with books & other things unpaid for waying ten hundredth. xxiii s 4d’. This was shortly after the death in London of Sir Walter Mildmay, and the hampers may well have included the founder’s bequests to Emmanuel of plate and money. Thomas Hobson was active in, and a financial supporter of, various Cambridge civic enterprises. In 1606 our accounts record a payment of £3 10s ‘To the vicechanslar for bringing the river through the towne’. This was the college’s contribution to the costs of the proposed scheme to bring clean water from Nine Wells to Cambridge, via a new aqueduct known to posterity as Hobson’s Conduit. In 1631, the year of Hobson’s death, a branch channel from the conduit was cut across what is now Chapman’s Garden. This watercourse was originally a straight, narrow channel (pictured), but was later widened and given a curved shape.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

30 October 2024

G is for … Gillick

The name of Royal Academician Ernest Gillick may not be well-known beyond the art world, but resident members of Emmanuel pass one of his sculptures nearly every day, and even the most library-averse student will occasionally encounter his two other college commissions. His most familiar work is the First World War memorial in the chapel cloister. This wall-mounted slab of Purbeck marble records the names of Emmanuel’s Fallen with minimal ornamentation, but the quality of the incised lettering, with its clever use of ligatures, is of the highest. Gillick’s first artwork for the college had been a bronze plaque, now installed above the main library staircase, depicting Evelyn Shuckburgh. A Fellow, librarian and historian of Emmanuel, Shuckburgh died in 1906. When Emmanuel’s Classics don, James Adam, died (at a relatively young age) the following year, the college initially contemplated asking Gillick to produce a companion plaque, but soon decided that a ‘symbolic design’, alluding to Classical antiquity, would be a more fitting memorial. Gillick consequently proposed a figure of Philosophy, standing before a bas-relief gilded panel depicting the nine Muses. The original design was not fully adopted, as neither the college nor Dr Adam’s widow, Adela, was entirely happy with it (she thought the principal figure looked ‘pinched and suffering’). Consequently, the sculpture was not completed until 1912, but it was worth waiting for, as it forms a striking and beautiful focal point in the main library reading room. ‘Sophy’ was originally to have held a circular marble plaque, but Gillick’s revised design substituted a laurel wreath. This gilded garland is detachable, resulting on occasion in its mysterious relocation to the figure’s head.

G is for … Graffiti

Stone-carving is best left to professionals like Gillick, although context or antiquity can certainly endow graffiti with a degree of interest. Several examples of this form of self-expression can be seen about the college. The inscription ‘R F 1670’, still faintly visible on the external east wall of Christopher Wren’s chapel, was made well before the building was completed. It was presumably carved by one of the masons, as no student with those initials was resident that year. A graffito in the chapel bell turret reads: ‘Thomas Holbech 1680’. We can safely assume that this was not the handiwork of the septuagenarian Master of Emmanuel, who died in autumn that year, but that of his great-nephew, who had matriculated in 1678. The smooth creamy-pink oolitic limestone of the chapel cloister has inevitably proved irresistible to graffiti ‘artists’ over the centuries, but fortunately their scrawls have usually proved easy to efface. A more erudite inscription can be attributed to Frederick Attenborough (father of Sir Richard, Sir David, and John). Frederick was at Emmanuel between 1915 and 1925, firstly as a student and then as Fellow. He was an Anglo-Saxon specialist, and for many years the name ‘Attenboro’, lightly carved in Old English runes, could be seen on the stonework near his rooms on B staircase. No trace of this inscription now remains, but fortunately a photograph of it survives. The arches above F and G staircase entries in Old Court have attracted several amateur chisellers over the centuries. As well as random incised letters, G’s arch displays a quadruped of some sort and a human face. Woodwork and glass also offer opportunities for graffitists. The back of a panel in the Welbourne Room bears the epigraph ‘Barkley 1647’, courtesy of William Barkley, admitted to Emmanuel in June of that year. A window pane in G5 displays the etching made in 1922 by the set’s occupants, John Vorley and Frederic Maxwell Harris. The mysterious lady presumably represented by the initials ‘D.E.H.’ has not been identified.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

30 October 2024

It all began when, while I was Vice-Master, I had the interesting experience of being a member of the Working Party that oversaw the design and implementation of the new and refurbished buildings on the College's southern edge. These include the social hub created out of the former bar and now named Fiona’s. On one side this new College café looks out over Chapman’s Garden, and I decided that a sundial on the sober brick elevation of the Westmorland Building, visible from Fiona’s, would be my contribution to the new building project.

The first step was to discuss a design appropriate to the location with the distinguished letter-cutter Dr Lida Lopes Cardozo at the Cardozo Kindersley Workshop in Cambridge (www.kindersleyworkshop.co.uk).  Lida soon sketched her suggested design, with a break-arch slate dial plate.

There would be a golden sunburst, within a sky-blue disc that references the blue clock face on the Chapel front. The silhouette of the brass gnomon would echo the wavy beams of the sunburst. The hour lines on the dial would be golden rays descending from the sunburst to the Roman numerals marking the hours, with an inscription below. It would be essential for the accuracy of the time-telling that calculations were made for the exact location of the sundial. For the many sundials that the Workshop has made at home and abroad, Lida works with the diallist Dr Frank King, of Churchill College.

Meanwhile a protracted process was underway to gain Listed Building Consent from the City Council. Once this was received, the piece of slate was ordered from a quarry in North Wales. When the slate had arrived, Lida drew her design on the slate in chalk.

All work at the Cardozo Kindersley Workshop is carried out by hand, so Emily Bunton then began the time-consuming task, with mallet and chisel, to remove the slate between the sun’s rays, so leaving the sunburst in relief.

After this had been completed, the hour lines and the numerals marking the hours were also cut into the slate with mallet and chisel, along with an inscription cut in italic lettering at the foot of the dial.

After the cutting was completed, the sunburst and hour lines were gilded by application of gold leaf, and the background to the sunburst was painted sky-blue.

The lettering and numerals were painted off-white, before the excess was cleaned away to reveal the completed sundial.

Finally, there was the little matter of lifting this heavy piece of slate into position and fixing it to the Westmorland Building. Scaffolding was erected, and the sundial was hauled up and fixed using three pins into the mortar, so that its installation is at any time ‘reversible’ – a condition of Listed Building Consent.  The lines from the revelations of the medieval English mystic Julian of Norwich (c.1342-c.1416) were chosen as an expression of hope and confidence whenever in time they are read.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

30 October 2024

As I write this blog about the gardens, the sun has gone in, and the clouds have come out. We have been experiencing some very warm days for this time of year, mixed with, at times, some glorious spells of sunshine. It was officially the wettest 18 months on record and, if there is a positive to come out of that, it would go somewhat to redressing some of the damage done from the droughts of a couple of years ago.

I have just come back from a conference at Kew Gardens. The subject of the conference was ‘Horticultural Solutions for the Planet’. The key topics were about climate change in the industry, and how the industry intends to adapt towards sustainability and climate change. One of the topics covered was how Kew Gardens uses modelling to predict which species to plant in the gardens.

In 2022, there were over 550 tree deaths in Kew Gardens alone; this is an enormous tree mortality figure. Tree species that would usually cope with the climate in the United Kingdom have been really struggling. Our native trees are under threat like never before.

Oak trees, beech trees and rowan trees are at greatest risk. It is predicted that the climate by 2050 will be nearer the climate of Barcelona than the usual cooler days of what was traditionally our climate. It is inevitable that the college will suffer further tree mortality, but we will have to consider which species to plant in the future.

It would also certainly explain the wonderful colours of the leaves this year – they are falling rapidly now, though. Please spare a thought for the Garden Team at this time of year. We are working our socks off to try and clear as many leaves as possible! This can be a thankless task, and you can clear a huge pile of leaves one moment, only to turn around and see that the leaves have dropped another thousand more!

The department works so hard to try and get most of the leaves cleared by Christmas. This is a gargantuan task. There are multiple thousands of cubic meters of these that are collected. The majority of those are stored and composted to be reused on the beds. This is a wonderful thing to do and makes the garden much more sustainable. Next spring, most of the compost will be spread on the flower beds as mulch. This, in turn, will help with other things, such as suppressing the weeds, holding in moisture (less watering for us to do, thereby saving a valuable water source) and adding valuable nutrients back to the soil. The whole process is very labour-intensive but essential.

Elsewhere in the gardens, I am delighted to see the Emmanuel College Community Gardens being used by the students for the first time. I attended the Freshers' Fair at the start of term and was encouraged to engage in some great conversations with some fabulous students.

As a result of the publicity, we held our first ‘come along and try’ meetings, and these were very well attended, one of them on a beautiful sunny autumn afternoon. It was fantastic to see the students who participated engaging in the practical and healthy benefits of gardening. It really has created a buzz of excitement!

If anybody else is interested in becoming involved, then please contact me via email. Please leave a message on the gardeners' contact email or use the QR code on the shed in Park Terrace for more details. Please also speak to our student representative, Sasha Carter.

I look forward to seeing more of you all soon.

Kind regards.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

1 October 2024

The last few weeks have been a bit tricky in the college gardens. The late summer sunshine did not get the memo, and the team have been hampered by some unseasonal wet spells and high winds. This weather couldn’t have made itself more apparent than a couple of weeks ago, when we noticed something strange about our beloved pterocarya tree (Caucasian Wingnut) in the Jester Garden by the pond.

We had noticed that, the last time we mowed the grass under the tree, the branches seemed a little lower to the ground than what we had noticed before. At that stage, the difference was very subtle, and we put that down to the exceptional year of growth that we have experienced in all areas of the gardens.

On the Monday morning, we noticed that the branches were lower still. On closer inspection, we noticed a crack in the bottom of the trunk. We decided to call out the tree surgeons for a closer inspection. As a precaution, we barriered this area off just in case. The tree was diagnosed with something called bark inclusion and that was the reason the branches were slightly lower than before. We agreed a plan to take some weight from the lower branches.

As it happened, it was wise to barrier that area off. At around 8pm, the tree literally fell in half and into the Jester Garden. On closer inspection on Tuesday morning as I returned to work, the damage was clearer to see. The area that was split at the base of the tree had completely fallen apart and caused a basal failure.

Bark inclusion occurs mainly on a multi-stem tree. It happens when two lower branches grow together and almost grow into each other. As the branches forge together the bark continues to grow and the bark becomes included. Over time, this produces enormous force upon the tree, literally pulling itself apart as it grows. Trees with included bark are, on average, 25% weaker than those with one solid union. The pterocarya tree in the Jester Garden had included bark at the base, but this was not obvious and looked just like a gnarly tree trunk. The tree survey that was carried out less that two years ago showed that the tree was still in good health. The survey did note a small area of mycelium growing around the base of the trunk, but this did not seem to be in danger.

The tree fell because of two things. The first was that it was under a large amount of force due to the bark inclusion and, secondly, that the tree's brace had failed and snapped. At some point, the tree had been pulled back in line with the aid of a tree brace placed high up into the tree. This problem had obviously been an issue in the past. However, there were no tree records nor survey records when I took over as Head Gardener. The tree braces are supposed to be checked every five years. The braces were placed so high in the tree that they were not visible on a ground inspection. Even the tree surveyors did not pick up the tree braces in the tree. There was so much force on the tree braces with the force of the tree growing apart that they eventually failed. The weight of the branches in the tree and the force growing apart pulled the tree apart, almost like somebody pulling on a wishbone of a chicken. The tree could not take the force.

I took professional advice from several tree consultants and tree surgeons about the best way to tackle the problem. The initial thought was that we could reduce some of the weight and tree and winch the tree back together and strap it. The break was in a position that theoretically meant this may have been possible. However, it soon became evident that this approach would not be possible. There was simply too much weight in the tree and, as the tree surgeons started work, the tree shifted once more, revealing even more damage. Collectively, we had to make hard decisions and, although this is a prominent and important tree within the Emmanuel gardens, safety had to be our primary concern. It was agreed that, in the first instance, we would try and save the tree at all costs.

There was significant basal failure and multiple breaks in the lower trunk. We had to remove approximately 80% of the tree at a time of year when it was not ideal. Time will tell how the tree will recover, if at all. The tree will likely send up multiple shoots from the ground as a response. This tree does that naturally anyway, but we expect the tree will send up many more shoots as a survival response. This shooting is called epicormic growth (water shoots). Usually, our management techniques would see us remove these shoots. However, we will leave the shoots for now as they will capture essential sugars in the leaves that will aid the tree’s recovery.

This tree will not look as before for many years, but we will try and keep it. The tree will hold many memories for all that have stood under it in the shade. I think I have a responsibility to try and fight for the tree. The immediate look of the landscape will change and there is nobody more upset about this than myself. I do have to remind myself that I work alongside nature every day, that these are living, breathing specimens. Veteran trees become part of our lives forever, but now and again they fail. Climate change will have played a huge part in the life of the tree. Everywhere is seeing premature tree deaths and problems with branch necrosis. At Emmanuel College, we are not alone in these factors. Tree stress will usually not manifest until several years after extreme weather events. The hottest summers, the driest spells, the wettest springs, the record wind strengths and the multiple number of storms will inevitably take their toll. The average life span of veteran trees has been shortened. Tree failure will become more commonplace. I have not given up on our pterocarya tree yet, though - although failure may be its inevitable fate.

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

1 October 2024

F is for … Founder’s Cup

The silver-gilt tazza given to the college by the Founder, Sir Walter Mildmay, is one of Emmanuel’s greatest treasures. The hallmarks show it to have been made in Antwerp in 1541/42, and its repoussé decorative work, depicting fabled sea monsters and other creatures, is of exceptional quality. Recent research indicates that the famous cup of Veere (Zeeland), thought to have been commissioned by Emperor Charles V, and closely associated with the Dutch royal family, is almost certainly by the same (unidentified) maker. Emmanuel’s cup is, if anything, of even finer workmanship, and certainty fit for a king’s table. It is therefore tempting to speculate that it may once have been owned by a Tudor monarch, which begs the question of how Sir Walter got his hands on it. He had worked as a crown financial officer since leaving Cambridge University in the 1540s, and his abilities were such that he was appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer by Queen Elizabeth I in January 1559, just a few weeks after her accession. From 1566 he was also a Privy Counsellor. These were important offices, and Sir Walter became a very wealthy man. He also had important contacts at the royal court, as his brother-in-law was Francis Walsingham, Elizabeth I’s famous spymaster, and his good friend and Northamptonshire neighbour, William Cecil, was the Queen’s chief minister. All that can be said for certain, though, is that at some point in his career Sir Walter either created, or took advantage of, an opportunity to acquire this exquisite tazza, which he personalised by adding his coat of arms to the finial of the cover. The Founder’s Cup is still used during important college ceremonials.

F is for … Fives

Fives is a handball game involving four participants (two to a team), played in a small, contained court – a sort of squash without rackets. Variants of the sport originated at Eton and Rugby schools, and when Emmanuel’s squash court complex was constructed in 1933, it incorporated an Eton fives court at one end and a Rugby fives court at the other. The building was erected on the site of an even earlier Eton court. This little structure features in no known photographs, but in December 2016 the original designs were discovered in a roll of architects’ plans of the Victorian Master’s Lodge. They comprise workmanlike drawings by John Gray & Son, builders, and are dated 1875 (one is pictured). We know from later correspondence that the court had been built of high-quality Clipsham stone, which might seem surprising, given the unpretentious nature of the building. The most likely explanation is that this was a re-use of redundant stone from the original Master’s lodgings, part of which had been demolished to make room for the Victorian Lodge (this could also account for the plans of the buildings being stored together). The demolition of the Eton court to make way for the swish 1933 suite, occasioned ‘keen regret on the part of some, to whom it had been a great boon’, but the new facility was a resounding success, and its humble predecessor was soon forgotten. The popularity of fives began to decline at Emmanuel during the 1950s, however, and by the end of the following decade the games were defunct at club level. The college authorities therefore agreed that the Rugby court would become a storeroom, and the Eton court should be extended to form a second squash court. This decision was unquestionably pragmatic, but from an aesthetic point of view the alterations are rather regrettable, as the original 1933 building was a fine example of inter-war sports architecture.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

4 September 2024

For all their importance, cooking and kitchens are illustrated rarely and almost incidentally in the College’s collection of illustrated books. The few pictures to be found represent a very different world from the idea of the modern kitchen, whether that is the sleekly gleaming idyll in the interior design magazines or the worn and messy reality in the home. 

How most people cooked happens to be depicted incidentally in a seriocomic book about naval life entitled Greenwich Hospital (1826), which has the lengthy sub-title ‘A Series of Sketches, Descriptive of the Life of a Man-of-War’s Man, by an Old Sailor’. One of the ‘sketches’ is the tale of a sailor who is reluctant to board his ship when she sails because he is busy roasting a plump goose.

                                    Greenwich Hospital: A Series of Naval Sketches, Illustrated by George Cruikshank (1826)

The goose is shown suspended by a wire from a rotating wheel in front of the fire in a cluttered living room. The coal is banked up in a kind of range, fronted by a grille. A large saucepan is perched steeply on top of the coals. A large kettle is on the side. The sailor is basting the fowl over a bowl below to catch the fat. A black cat is gazing intently at the roasting meat. With variations, cooking over a domestic hearth like this would be the norm in many households. 

Other illustrations of kitchens and cooking tend to occur in books illustrating grand and historic buildings. Such pictures are found rather occasionally and are perhaps included for a kind of negatively picturesque value. These kitchens of large households are spaces of a smoky grandeur that complements depictions of the interiors and exteriors of castles and colleges that figure on the other pages of illustrated books. In the deluxe illustrated volumes for both Oxford and Cambridge that the publishing entrepreneur, Rudolph Ackermann, produced in the early nineteenth century, there is only room for pictures of the kitchens of the largest college in each university, probably because these cavernous spaces had a picturesque dimension absent from smaller college kitchens. The picture of the kitchen at Christ Church, Oxford, certainly suggests how the fires, heat and smoke of kitchens had traditionally been associated with hell.

                                     Kitchen, Christ Church, in R. Ackermann, History of the University of Oxford (1814)

Clouds of smoke are issuing from an enormous open fire, before which numerous fowls are being roasted on a grille, with a pan below for the fat. There appears to be nowhere for the smoke and condensation to escape, apart from through the large open shutters, which presumably needed to be open in all weathers. In the foreground a man prepares yet more fowl for roasting at one table and a woman prepares a small mountain of green vegetables at another. The walls appear to be predictably grimed with smoke and soot from generations of cooking in the space.

The illustration of the kitchen at Trinity College, Cambridge, shows a similarly gloomy and cavernous space, although the inclusion in the picture of the kitchen roof with its lantern might suggest that there was some provision for the escape of smoke and smell through that.

                                Kitchen, Trinity College, in R. Ackermann, History of the University of Cambridge (1815)

To the left, before a raging fire, some staff are working in what would be scorching heat. There appears to be a system of pulleys over the hearth in order to rotate the roasting meat on spits. A woman takes a break with a dog; a maid sweeps up. A man seems to be preparing a large fish. At an ‘island’ others may be preparing pastry; three headless fowl droop over the edge. Vegetables lie unceremoniously on the floor.

The ‘Ancient Kitchen’ at Windsor Castle shows another distinctly grimy and cavernous space, although it is generously top-lit with windows.

                               ‘Ancient Kitchen’, Windsor Castle, in W. H. Pyne, The History of the Royal Residences (1819)

To the left, meat is being roasted before a huge fire on spits worked by pulleys above, while more is being roasted at another hearth in the far wall. There is a weighing machine and a table groaning with meat in the centre. People prepare food at a further table. Game is being hung on the wall, and vegetables lie in a heap on the floor.

By contrast, the kitchen at St James’s Palace presents a more wholesome regime.

                                   Kitchen, St James’s Palace, in W. H. Pyne, The History of the Royal Residences (1819)

There is much more light, even if the walls do bear the stains of smoke and steam.

Things seem a lot cleaner, including the staff, who are crisply attired for their work. The surfaces and fittings are uncluttered and orderly, designed for the space with drawers. Serried rows of copper pans gleam on shelves and utensils hang neatly in their places. Meat is still being roasted in front of a roaring fire in the hearth, and it looks like a spit is being loaded in front of the window.  But this kitchen does look rather more like the later nineteenth-century kitchens that readers will have seen in tours of country houses. Still to happen are all the innovations in ovens and other cooking appliances, not to mention societal changes, that have helped put the kitchen at the core of modern homes, even if that kitchen may not always look quite like the interior design magazines.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

4 September 2024

As we approach the start of term, we do not have too much to report in terms of gardening. We have been quietly ticking over and trying to complete our very busy workload, whilst trying to balance the period of the staff summer holidays. It is such a busy year in general and, as Head Gardener, I do not take much time off over the summer. I tend to cover the absences in the department as some of the team have families and must juggle the school holidays. In any other workplace, the summer holidays can just be managed accordingly but, unfortunately, in gardening, this isn’t so easy.

We have all been there when you returned from holiday and your garden has grown far beyond your expectations! In the summer, we can have as many as three gardeners off at any one time, so you can imagine that the workload just keeps piling up. We would like to thank everyone for their patience in this busy period.

In the last few weeks, we have seen the end of the contracts for some of our learning staff. Last week, we had to say goodbye to our apprentice, Izzie Hare. She successfully completed her apprenticeship, and we are pleased to announce that she passed with distinction. I am extremely proud of her and would also like to thank the rest of the Gardening Team for taking the time to pass on their knowledge as well. Izzie is now exploring the option of becoming a self-employed gardener. We all wish her well and thank her for her time tending our gardens. We have had an extraordinarily large number of applicants to replace Izzie as this year’s apprentice gardener. We shall be recruiting shortly.

This week we also say goodbye to our WFGA student, Emily McMullen. Emily has successfully completed her one-year programme with us here at Emmanuel College. Emily has been studying for her RHS exams alongside the placement she had with us. Emily starts her new permanent job at Girton College in a few weeks. This really does prove that the positive environment within the College Garden Department really gets the candidate industry ready. This is important: as an employer, we need to be responsible for addressing a skills shortage in the industry. Education and experience are an enormous part of this. Although we are not retaining the trainees, we can have a full heart knowing that we have been a huge stepping stone in somebody’s life. Hopefully they will remember Emma with fondness and, you never know, they may return in the future as vacancies arise. We have successfully recruited Emily’s replacement, and she starts on 11th September. More news to follow.

In other news in the gardens, we have had quite a lot of tree work done recently. The wet spring and windy weather have challenged some of our trees this year and we have had quite a bit of emergency tree work done. We are not alone, though: at a recent Head Gardener’s forum meeting that I attended, the other Head Gardeners from the colleges shared similar stories. I feel we are paying for the drought season we had a couple of years ago. Trees tend to only show signs of stress a couple of years after severe weather events. The next few years could be quite interesting!

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

4 September 2024

E is for … Emmanuel

When Sir Walter Mildmay founded a new Cambridge college in 1584, it was a safe bet that its name would allude to the Christian faith, as his intention was to found a school of ‘prophets’, i.e. moderately Puritan clerics. The name Emmanuel is a transliteration of the Greek rendering of a Hebrew phrase meaning ‘the Lord [is] with us’, but should it have one ‘m’, or two? The most important early college documents, including the foundation charter, the grant of arms (pictured) and the statutes, all employ the spelling ‘Emmanuel’. The first Master, Laurence Chaderton, tended to save time and ink by writing only one ‘m’, but adding an abbreviation mark above it to denote the omitted letter. He was not alone in this habit. Conversely, the early nominations to college scholarships and fellowships, signed by Sir Walter although written by his clerk, invariably employ the longer variant ‘Emmanuell’, and this spelling is also commonly found in early college correspondence. Another popular rendering of the name was ‘Emanuel’ (without any abbreviation mark). This minimalist version was widely used for several centuries, and even as late as the mid-nineteenth century it can be found in Cambridge guidebooks and in the captions to printed engravings of the college. The closest transliteration of the original Hebrew is, in fact, ‘Immanuel’. Cotton Mather, an early alumnus of Harvard College (BA 1678), when reflecting on the large number of Emmanuel graduates who had emigrated to North America, wrote: ‘If New-England hath been in some respects Immanuel’s Land it is well; but this I am sure of, Immanuel College contributed more than a little to make it so..’. It is a striking thought that if Sir Walter Mildmay had favoured this spelling, we would now be using the pet-name ‘Imma’, not ‘Emma’!

E is for … Eltisley

The small village of Eltisley lies eleven miles west of Cambridge. An estate there, known as the manor of Papley alias Papworth Everard, was purchased by Emmanuel College in 1593, for the substantial sum of £900. The manor comprised three messuages, two cottages, one dovecot, three gardens, three orchards, 200 acres of arable land, 40 acres of meadow, 30 acres of pasture, 30 acres of wood, and 200 acres of furze and heath. Although there is nothing especially remarkable about the property itself, it is of unique historical interest in one respect: the title deeds recording its changes of ownership date back more than eight and a half centuries. Indeed, they include the oldest documents held in the college archives. The first four deeds in the series are undated, as was quite usual at that time, but they contain references to well-known individuals such as Roger de Mowbray and ‘Nigel’ (Neil), Bishop of Ely, that date them to the third quarter of the twelfth century. Written at a time when parchment, ink and scribes were all expensive, the documents are admirably concise, with none of the verbosity that is such a baneful feature of later title deeds. The Christian names of the parties who feature in the deeds are predominantly Norman, rather than Anglo-Saxon, reflecting the wholesale replacement of the landowning class after 1066. Some of these names are still in use today, but others fell out of favour by the end of the Middle Ages: Folco, Ivo, Lisiard, Pagan, Gerbert. Complete oddities are Stor, Wimer and Helyd. The most unusual woman’s name found in the deeds is ‘Argencelina’. This rather heathen-sounding name (‘silver moon’?) was very rare even then, but it survived as ‘Argent’ in Cornwall. Although some of the earliest Eltisley deeds have lost their wax seals, they are otherwise in almost perfect condition, despite their great antiquity.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

31 July 2024

                  J. C. Nattes, Versailles, Paris, and St Denis (1810), ‘Bridge of the Hôtel Dieu, with the Church of Notre Dame’

This year’s Olympic Games have put the spotlight of world attention on the iconic cityscapes of Paris. British fascination with the French capital is already attested by the early nineteenth-century illustrated books in Emmanuel’s collection. One of the interests in these books now is that the Paris they record – and the perceptions of it – are not the city as it would be re-fashioned later in the century and is broadly still. There is, of course, no Eiffel Tower (1889) and no Sacré-Coeur (1876-91). Even the Arc de Triomphe, though begun in 1806, took 30 years to build. Construction of the great boulevards of the Second Empire (1852-70), which flattened large areas of the old Paris, were still in the future. So too were the new green spaces – Bois de Boulogne, Bois de Vincennes etc – which Napoleon III ordered to be made at the four compass points, because he wanted Parisians to have the green spaces that he remembered from his exile in London, especially Hyde Park. The Emperor gave orders that Paris be beautified, and it was.

Illustrations of Paris produced rather earlier in this country therefore have a different focus. Some dwell on customs and characteristics, on street life. Some are interested in recording the jumbled and quaint in ancient buildings and streetscapes. As so often, the focus is on the picturesque, and books that are concerned with ‘views’ of the significant buildings of the old Paris will present them with some picturesquely decayed and shabby aspects.

The frontispiece to David Carey’s Life in Paris (1828), with illustrations by George Cruickshank, is a revealing cartoon of British perceptions of the French and hence of their capital.

                                                                 D. Carey, Life in Paris (1822). Frontispiece

At the top is a balloon because ‘their light ascending spirits are appropriately figured by a Balloon'. There are song, music and dancing, to which the French are ‘very partial’, and then a duel, under the heading of ‘Honour’, about which the French are reported to be very touchy. Glory is inscribed on a flag because the French think no one possesses it except them. Politeness is signalled by two obsequious figures. Below is Love, with a blindfolded Cupid behind an amply endowed barmaid in a café. Beneath are some gamblers because ‘the vice of gambling pervades all classes in France’. Two French women bear up industry, which the male figures neglect.

The sub-title to Carey’s book summons up a kind of British engagement with ‘abroad’ that is perhaps still alive in mass tourism: it comprises ‘the Rambles, Sprees, and Amours of Dick Wildfire … and his Bang-Up Companions … with the Whimsical Adventures of the Halibut Family, including Sketches of … Eccentric Characters in the French Metropolis’. The sub-title of William Combe’s Dr Syntax in Paris, ‘or A Tour in Search of the Grotesque’ (1820) indicates that this is a spin-off from the hugely popular satires that spoofed the contemporary fad for the picturesque, but here the gullible doctor is a tourist in Paris, where Mrs Syntax has a fit of the vapours while visiting the tourist attraction of the catacombs. 

                                           W. Combe, Dr Syntax in Paris (1820), ‘Dr Syntax visits the Catacombs’

For armchair travellers, or those who wanted a reminder of their time in Paris, there were books with plates of exceptional accomplishment and beauty. The Versailles, Paris and St Denis (1810) of John Claude Nattes, a French topographical draughtsman and water colour artist based in London until 1822, gives many insights into the topography and social history of Paris at the start of the nineteenth century.

Nattes is especially fond of views from under the bridges of Paris, allowing close-ups on ordinary activities from out of the ordinary perspectives.

                                                Nattes, Versailles, Paris, ‘From under the arch of St Michel’s bridge’

                                  Nattes, Versailles, Paris, ‘The washing place belonging to the Hospital of L’Hôtel Dieu’

This is a very much less spruce, polished and finished Paris than that of modern expectation and all the more interesting for that.

                                                  Nattes, Versailles, Paris, ‘From one of the arches of Notre Dame’

                                              Nattes, Versailles, Paris, ‘View drawn from under the Arch of Givry’

Other publications present the customs and costumes to be seen on Paris streets.

A Tour through Paris (1828) does this in aquatints with particularly skilful and vibrant colouring.

                                         Sams, A Tour through Paris (1828), ‘Dancers on Stilts in the Champs-Elysées’

                                                                Sams, A Tour through Paris, ‘The Office of Nurses’

One plate features the historic institution of the Office of Nurses (i.e. wet nurses). The English commentary tuts that ‘this is a market for human milk … where so many women are seen flocking with full breasts, in order to supply children to whom they are strangers’. What was founded by Louis XIV as a philanthropic project has been turned into a profitable business controlled by men. Nurses sleep in one large dormitory between the cradles of the two babies that each nurse sustains at any one time. A plate of itinerants on the boulevards includes, on the left, a dealer in tisane with his stove on his back, and a blind man with his dog. Another plate shows the ceremony in which disgraced soldiers are cashiered in the Place Vendôme. 

                                                     Sams, A Tour through Paris, ‘Itinerants on the Boulevards’

                                           Sams, A Tour through Paris, ‘Military Degradation in the Place Vendôme’

By 1839, in his Picturesque Architecture in Paris, Thomas Shotter Boys (1803-74) accomplishes an early triumph of lithography technique, achieving cool, transparent, graduated tints, subtle in colouring. King Louis Philippe sent Boys a ring in token of his admiration for this book.

                                                        Shotter Boys, Picturesque Architecture (1839), ‘Notre Dame’

                                                       Shotter Boys, Picturesque Architecture, ‘Hôtel de Cluny’

The image of Notre Dame is especially interesting in setting the cathedral in the same picture with buildings festooned with drying washing and with the banks of the Seine cluttered with everyday trade and activity. The image of the Hôtel de Cluny notes that it has ‘been recently bought by the French Government to preserve its remains as a national monument’.

Similarly subtle in colouring, the image of the Rue Notre Dame is a record of streets in the old Paris, long replaced (note the boots for sale outside a shop).

                                                      Shotter Boys, Picturesque Architecture, ‘Rue Notre Dame’

                                       Shotter Boys, Picturesque Architecture, ‘St Etienne du Mont, with the Pantheon’

The plate of the Church of St Etienne du Mont and the Pantheon by moonlight is a rare attempt at a nocturnal cityscape, which inevitably seems to anticipate the later characterization of Paris as the ‘City of Light’.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

31 July 2024

As I sit to write this blog entry, we are in the hottest spell so far this year. There is not a cloud in the sky and the weather is perfect for being outside or taking a dip in our refurbished swimming pool. Instead, I am in a hot office writing a garden blog.

We seem to have got through the height of the garden party season and navigated through the wedding season. Pressure is off a little now but that just means catching up on so many of the jobs we have been putting off. It really is hedging season now. It is usually best to wait until August to cut the hedging as many of the birds have flown the nests by this point. August is a great month for beech hedging. We have recently finished trimming the box hedging in New Court. It remains to be seen how many more times we can keep cutting this hedge as the box moth caterpillar damage seems to get a little worse each year. The next 12 months will be critical to how long we keep these hedges. It will be a massive shame to lose them, but we are one of the few college gardens who have not ripped theirs out yet. I fear it is only a matter of time.

We are entering the stage when our Garden Department apprentices have almost completed their time with us. Izzie Hare has just passed her final Level 2 Horticulture exam. This is a considerable achievement having only been with us for almost two years. Izzie will leave us at the end of August, and we are now looking to replace her with the next intern apprentice. Horticultural education is very important, and it was so pleasing to deliver what was promised and get Izzie at the point at which she can evolve in the industry as a professional gardener. We all wish her the very best of luck in the future and will miss her enormously.

Our other trainee, Emily McCullen has also nearly finished her one-year placement with us. Emily leaves in early September, having completed her ‘Work and Retrain as a Gardener’ (WRAG) Scheme placement with us in the Emmanuel College gardens. Again, we are looking to recruit for the next WRAG Scheme placement. One year really does go fast. It only seems a matter of weeks ago that Emily started with us. At the time of writing, Emily has completed her RHS Level 2 qualification but has not had the results through. We have every confidence in her that she has passed. Again, we wish Emily all the best in the future.

In other news, we have almost completed the Community Garden. The social gardens have been transformed and will give students, staff and Fellows a wonderful space to work and grow in. It really is very exciting indeed. Watch this space for more news.

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

31 July 2024

                                     L’Estrange family tombstones in the church of St Mary the Virgin, Old Hunstanton

John Venn’s Alumni Cantabrigienses, the comprehensive listing of all known Cambridge University men, contains the following entry: Roger Lestrange. Matric pens. from Emman. Mich 1601. Son of Sir Nicholas (1580) and Mary Bell. Drowned ‘at Emmanuel’ while at Cambridge. Brother of Hamon (1601). (Blomefield, x. 115). The sensational statement that a student drowned here – presumably in the Paddock pond! – naturally begs investigation, but in fact the entire entry is open to question.

The L’Estrange family, anciently settled at Hunstanton Hall, Norfolk, sent many of its sons to Cambridge. Emmanuel’s admission register contains no record of Roger, though, because for some reason the names of the 1601 entrants were not entered. Coincidentally, the university matriculation books were not maintained during this period, either, due to the laxness of the Registrary, Thomas Smith. The lists of matriculands sent to Smith every year by the praelectors of each college have survived, though, and these record a ‘Roger Straunge’ matriculating from Emmanuel at Michaelmas 1601. His parentage is not stated.

Venn’s identification of this Roger as the son of Sir Nicholas L’Estrange is presumably based on: (1) the fact that the family name was often spelled Straunge or Strange; (2) the perennial popularity of the name ‘Roger’ within the L’Estrange family; (3) information contained in Francis Blomefield’s History of the County of Norfolk, judging by the footnote. On inspection, however, it turns out that the L’Estrange section in that multi-volume tome does not mention Roger; indeed, it represents Sir Nicholas as having only one son: his heir, Hamon, who was admitted to Queens’ College in 1601.

Other nineteenth-century printed histories and pedigrees, however, state that Sir Nicholas had three sons: Roger, Henry, and Hamon, the elder two dying without issue. One source adds that they died during their father’s lifetime, and that Hamon, in consequence, inherited the lordship of Hunstanton from his father upon the latter’s death. This version of events is supported by the usually reliable History of Parliament Online. A problem arises, then, because Sir Nicholas died in December 1591, a decade before Roger was admitted to Emmanuel. Unless the sources are wrong, and Roger and/or Henry were in fact younger brothers of Hamon, the ‘Roger Straunge’ admitted to Emmanuel in 1601 cannot have been the son of Sir Nicholas L’Estrange.

Roger could, of course, have belonged to a cadet branch of the family, but whatever his standing, it is the case that none of the numerous L’Estrange memorials in Old Hunstanton church commemorates him. His dramatic demise is not recorded in Emmanuel’s archives, either. It was not until December 1913, when John Venn sent Emmanuel’s Bursar details of the intriguing entry he was preparing for Roger, that the college became aware of the young man’s existence. The Bursar forwarded the missive to the Master, with a jocular covering note: ‘Venn, supplementing our broken record for 1601, gives one Roger Straunge as admitted to Emmanuel in this year. Shall we drag the pond?’. 

Venn’s statement about Roger’s drowning ‘at Emmanuel’ is presented as a quotation, but of what, or whom, has proved impossible to trace. The source’s reliability cannot, therefore, be evaluated. Swimming had been strictly forbidden to Cambridge students by a Heads of House order of 1571, on pain of public whipping and (for a second offence) expulsion. If Roger Straunge voluntarily entered Emmanuel’s pond, then, it was in defiance of this decree. His true fate, like his identity, seems likely to remain a mystery.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

26 June 2024

                                Compton, North Cambrian Mountains (1820 edn),  ‘Rhaiadyr Y Wennol, Caernarvonshire’

Emmanuel’s collection of nineteenth-century illustrated books – containing numerous Romantic depictions of what was perceived as picturesque landscape from around the world – includes so many representations of waterfalls as to prompt questions about what our forebears saw in these remarkable natural features. In cultures across the world, waterfalls hold cultural and spiritual significance. To take one example among many: in Shinto tradition in Japan waterfalls are held to be sacred and cleansing.

For searchers for the picturesque in Britain, waterfalls were part of those wild uplands that excited their admiration for rugged scenery and sublime perspectives of great height and distance.  Waterfalls gave rise to feelings of awe and apprehension of something greater than ourselves. Accounts of travels to wild Wales featured many depictions of famous waterfalls, which had often long been held to be sites of mystery and magic in local folklore.  Thomas Compton’s The North Cambrian Mountains (1817, 1820) includes some striking depictions that attempt to convey the sheer volume and force of waterfalls plunging through landscapes.

                                  Compton, North Cambrian Mountains (1817 edn), ‘Pistyll Rhaiadyr’, Montgomeryshire’

                                                                              ‘Rhaiadyr Du, Merionethshire’

Alongside such Romantic images, it is interesting to compare Classical Chinese painting, where waterfalls are a symbol of impermanence: the waterfall continues yet is never the same, implicitly contrasted with the changelessness of the rocks that surround and interrupt the water’s fall.

                                                                             ‘Pystyll Y Cain, Merionethshire’

                                                                         ‘Rhaiadyr Y Mawddach, Merionethshire’

In this way, the waterfall represents a persistence of form, notwithstanding a constant change of content. The cool and misty colours in Brian Broughton’s Six Picturesque Views in North Wales (1801) well convey this defining presence and energy in the waterfalls and cascades that he depicts.

                                                                      Broughton, Six Picturesque Views (1801)

                                                            T. H. Fielding, The English Lakes (1821), ‘Skelwith Force’

The many published accounts of tours to the Lake District that poured forth in this period also included frequent illustrations of waterfalls, as in T. H. Fielding’s

A Picturesque Tour of the English Lakes (1821), of which Emmanuel holds three different editions. The essence of such images is the impression of an unstoppable torrent, dashing against rocks, defining its location yet always in flux.

To depict water falling dramatically from a great height is a recurrent challenge to artists, particularly well met in the dramatic uncoloured lithographs in Harry Longueville Jones’s Scenery of the Snowdonian Mountains (1829), where each lithograph bears the imprint of C Hullmandel, the inventor of lithography.

                                                                             English Lakes, ‘Lowdore Fall’

                                                                            Jones, Snowdonian Mountains

A fascination with depicting waterfalls in Britain is carried with them by artists recording the picturesque in landscapes much further afield, as in James Hakewill’s now-rare A Picturesque Tour of the Island of Jamaica (1825).

                                                                             English Lakes, ‘Stockgill Force’

                                 Hakewill, Jamaica (1825), ‘Cascade on the Windward Road’ (seven miles from Kingston)

It is striking that a late example of a hand-coloured book, William Cullen Byant’s Picturesque America, or The Land We Live In (New York, 1874) features a waterfall as the design of its frontispiece (the small figure of the artist is seated on the right side, depicting the cataract ‘en plein air’).

                                                Bryant, Picturesque America (1877), title page, ‘Cascade in Virginia’

                                                           Picturesque America, ‘The Upper Yellowstone Falls’

Bryant’s book includes many accounts of waterfalls, which are mentioned on the title page among the defining features of ‘Picturesque America’.

The staggering immensity of falling waters in the hand-coloured images of Thomas Baines’s The Victoria Falls (1865) are a match for the awesome proportions of the Niagara Falls in the opening image that precedes all others in Bryant’s Picturesque America.

                                                                                     Baines, Victoria Falls

                                                                     Picturesque America, frontispiece, ‘Niagara’

Artists of images fixed on the page must convey the constant motion of unstoppable forces. They must assume that vision will summon up sound: that viewers will also hear in their inward ear the characteristic music of waterfalls, from tinkle and splash to awe-inspiring roar.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

26 June 2024

At last, the good weather has arrived. The endless weeks of rain and wind, together with the grey skies, are hopefully behind us, as we cling on to what now feels like summer. The Garden Department’s busiest times are hopefully just over the horizon too.

It can be a relentless few weeks, preparing for garden parties, May Ball preparations (and repairs) and graduations. Yes, the work is hard and the hours long. It is a time, however, to showcase the gardens to as many eyes as possible. I have received many fine comments about the beauty of the gardens this year. Of course, I am very grateful, but this is a team effort made up of many pairs of hands, both past and present. It has been a challenging growing season because of the weather but, I must admit, the gardens look splendid.

I was working on this last Sunday, watering our plants (the sides that most people don’t see behind the scenes), and the peaceful nature of the site was at its best. Many students had gone home, and the gardens were still vibrant. The birds were my company and my morning’s soundtrack was enough to keep me enthused as I worked the weekend. This is the time I enjoy most in the gardens at Emmanuel. It almost feels like it’s my own garden at times like this. Just me, nature and the gardens. For those that are left here on site for the summer, please do enjoy the gardens in these quieter times. It is so good for one’s own mental health.

Mental health and gardening are always at the forefront of my thinking. Last week we had a soft launch of the new Emmanuel College Community Gardens. Although the project is not quite complete, it was nice to get together to celebrate our achievements so far. This will be a good stress reliever when the project reaches its final stages. It will give students, staff and Fellows a space within the college grounds that they can take ownership of. A place that they can nurture. A place that they can decide what to grow (and keep). A place that is non-hierarchical and a place to come together. A place to learn (through successes or failures). A place to contemplate. A place to share.

The community gardens will continue to be built over the remainder of the summer and will be fully functional from next academic year. There will be more correspondence over the next few weeks and months but please do get in contact with me with any questions you may have.

The rest of the summer will be made up of garden tours, continued maintenance and, later in the summer, we will turn our attention to recruiting the next cohort of training vacancies in the Garden Department. Emily will finish her one-year placement in September, and we are busy prepping Izzie for her end point assessments of the Cambridge University Apprenticeship in July. Izzie will remain with the Garden Department until December, drawing and ending her two-year placement. We also continue to support Danny Dudd with his work experience whilst studying his T Levels in Horticulture at Shuttleworth College.

Investing in the future of the next generation of gardeners is essential, giving career builders the next step in a fruitful (no pun intended!) career.

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

26 June 2024

D is for … Doves

Our archives contain a series of title deeds recording the changes in ownership of the college site between 1545 (a few years after it had ceased to house the Dominican monastic order) and 1584, when Emmanuel College was founded. All these documents, in their recital of the premises’ appurtenances, include a reference to a dove-house. This building, of uncertain location, continued in use after 1584 as it served an important function: the provision of fresh meat throughout the year. The first reference to it in the college accounts is dated 1594, when 28s 7d was spent on ‘New tiling, lathing, and mending the duffhouse’. These renovations lasted a couple of decades, but thereafter the building required regular maintenance. In 1614 the college laid out 16s 10d on ‘Tyling, claying & mending the duvhouse’, and minor repairs were needed in 1621, 1628 and 1633. We know the building had fenestration, for in 1630 a shilling was spent on ‘2 new latices for the pigeon-house’ and in 1635 the ‘glasse’ had to be mended. Substantial improvements were required in 1636, when a builder named Rively and his labourer were paid 19s 6d for ‘9 dayes worke about the dovehouse’, and yet more repairs were carried out by the same builder two years later. There are no more references to the dovehouse until 1659, when unspecified ‘work’ was carried out. The building presumably fell out of use soon afterwards, as it is not mentioned again. In 1890 a dovecote was set up in Chapman’s Garden, which at that date was only accessible via the set of Arthur Chapman, Fellow of Emmanuel from 1862 until his death in 1913. Populated with white fantails, Chapman’s picturesque dovecote features in several late-Victorian and Edwardian photographs.

D is for … Dr Who

On Wednesday 17th October 1979, Emmanuel was briefly transmogrified into St Cedd’s College, Cambridge, an institution harbouring an incognito Time Lord named Professor Chronotis. This scenario sprang from the fertile imagination of the well-known sci-fi writer and Cambridge graduate Douglas Adams, who was at that time script editor for the Dr Who show. The 1979-80 college Magazine records, under Gifts and Bequests: ‘B.B.C. TV kindly donated £100 to the College following their successful filming of a Dr Who episode on College premises’. Unfortunately, no paperwork survives in the archives to indicate why, or how, Emmanuel was selected as a suitable location. The filming took place in Front and New Courts (exteriors only). The photograph reproduced above has been provided by Dr Alan Baker, Senior Tutor in 1979, who can be seen standing on the steps to C staircase. The Emmanuel students’ newsletter, under the headline ‘Dr Why?’, noted the ‘production of another epic Dr Who episode in the College grounds’, but queried why P3 had been selected as the Professor’s room, concluding: ‘Perhaps it was the rumour about frequent sightings of “alien” life forms and the strange knocking noises in the night’. Alas, many years were to pass before Emmanuel’s moment of glory was seen by the paying public, as a technicians’ strike prevented this particular Dr Who serial (‘Shada’), from being finished. Such footage as existed was eventually released on VHS, followed by, in 2017, a DVD version in which the missing sections had been completed using animation, dialogue being dubbed by the original cast. When the DVD was played to an audience in the Queen’s Building a few years ago, the advent of the ‘baddie’, clad in silver lamé and billowing white satin, provoked howls of laughter from undergraduates and nostalgic smiles from anyone ancient enough to remember the 1970s.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

29 May 2024

The weather has continued to play havoc with the gardens in the last month. The wet weather continues, and the growing season is rapid. It seems like a period when we are chasing our own tails a bit. No sooner have we completed maintaining an area within college, it grows as your back is turned.

The last few weeks have been tricky. The quiet period for exams stops us doing exactly what we want to do in a time when the growing season keeps us on our toes the most. The good thing about the wet weather is at least we have not had to rush around watering the plants, trying to keep them alive.

The team has been stretched this year trying to complete some small projects, such as the landscaping for the swimming pool and the Community Garden. This has meant that it is all hands on deck at this time.

As gardeners, we must remind ourselves to enjoy the gardens too. We have been delighted with the planting beds around the new buildings this year. They have really started to establish themselves nicely and look as if the plants have been there for a while. It is exciting to see the plants fill out and give us such a good show. It is always a relief when this works, rather than just being an imagined idea.

The tennis courts on the Paddock have remained popular and it is nice to see so many people enjoying the gardens when the sun occasionally comes out.

The Community Garden building will continue after the quite period ends, and we will work at this across the remainder of the summer, so that the students can take full advantage from next academic year. It is an exciting prospect and I hope that the areas get some good use soon enough. There will be a trial for some hot composting bins in this area. This will give the students the opportunity to dispose of food waste such as vegetable peelings to be turned into compost. We have also installed water butts for rainwater harvesting, so we are looking at a greener approach to sustainable gardening.

It is also the time of year for starting to fill the borders from our own nurseries from the Garden Department. We do spend a lot of time and effort across the year taking cuttings and growing items from seed. It is great to be able to use our own plants to produce more. This cuts down on extra plastic use for pots, air miles for distances the plants must travel, and time taken to collect the plants off site. We use our own compost produced here in college to pot on the plants, so sustainably we feel we are heading in the right direction.

The meadows also look fantastic. The wildflowers are starting to really grow well, and we should get an excellent display this year. Some of the wildflowers in North Court have grown as a result from us harvesting the wildflower seeds from the bales of hay, donated to us from King’s College. Each bale of hay contains around 1.5kg of wildflower seed. This is another example of how working collegiately can benefit us all.

All we need now is some sunshine.

Best wishes.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener

29 May 2024

C is for … Chaderton

Laurence Chaderton, the first Master of Emmanuel, was a most remarkable man. His father Thomas, a minor landowner from Oldham, was a Roman Catholic, who cut off his son with the proverbial shilling when the young man embraced the Protestant faith. By the time Laurence became Master here, in 1584, he was one of the most renowned preachers of his day, possessing a ‘wonderful zeal for winning souls’. On one occasion, after a two-hour sermon, his enthralled congregation were said to have begged: ‘for God’s sake sir, go on!’. Sir Walter Mildmay thought so highly of him that his founding of Emmanuel College was contingent on Chaderton’s accepting the mastership. This he did, despite having received an offer of a more lucrative ecclesiastical appointment, and for 38 years he administered the college with ‘fidelity, prudence, and industry’. Even after relinquishing the mastership in 1622, when he was in his eighties, he continued to play an active role in college affairs. Widely respected and loved for his ‘active and fearless, and yet kindly and liberal’ spirit, Chaderton was sought out by many distinguished visitors to Cambridge, including King James I & VI and his son, Prince Charles. The King went further, by appointing him one of the authors of the 1611 Authorised Version of the Bible; he helped translate the section from 1 Chronicles to the Song of Solomon. Chaderton died in November 1640, at the great age of either 101 or 104 (he gave differing accounts of his year of birth, but either way his tombstone inscription is incorrect). According to his daughter, Elizabeth, he remained astonishingly robust until suffering the fall that brought on his death. He was buried in the original college chapel, and re-interred in the new one after its consecration in 1677.

C is for … Chalice

Above the shop frontage of 21 St Andrew’s Street, Cambridge, directly opposite the junction with Emmanuel Street, a fine sculpted stone panel can be seen.  It shows our college coat of arms, with the name ‘Emmanuel’ above and a carving of a goblet below, along with the words ‘The Chalice’. This tenement came to Emmanuel in 1585, one of several similar gifts and bequests bestowed upon the new college by generous benefactors. Most of these donors were what we would now call Puritans, who approved of the college’s founding ethos, but this was not the case with the owner of the Chalice. It was bequeathed to the college by Henry Harvey, Doctor of Laws, Master of Trinity Hall, Canon of Ely, and a prominent University man. In negotiating the political upheavals of the mid-sixteenth century, Harvey’s religious views embraced a degree of flexibility that the Vicar of Bray might have admired. As it seems unlikely, however, that he was ever a genuinely enthusiastic Puritan, his bequest of the Chalice to Emmanuel College would seem to be a mark of his personal regard for either Sir Walter Mildmay or Laurence Chaderton. All that can be said for certain, though, is that Doctor Harvey had helped with the complex legal procedures attaching to Mildmay’s acquisition of the college site in 1584. The title deeds to 21 St Andrew’s Street are held in our archives. They date back to 1295, but the earliest document in which the tenement is named ‘Chalice’ is a conveyance of 1578, which calls it a ‘messuage or ynne called the Challyce’. Later converted to a mixture of residential and retail occupancy, the property was completely rebuilt in 1895.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

1 May 2024

B is for … Boathouse

The Emmanuel Boat Club, formed in 1827, did not acquire its own premises until the 1890s. Until then it had ‘cheerfully suffered the inconvenience’ of sharing Foster’s boat house with other colleges, but in 1894 a riverside site was acquired, upon which stood a dilapidated boathouse and several ramshackle cottages. In the 1895 college Magazine, readers were informed that: ‘The plot secured by the College and granted for the use of the Boat Club is situated just below the Cutter Ferry’. An appeal was launched to raise £1200, the estimated cost of constructing a new boathouse. The architects were Marshall and Vickers of Bedford Square, London, who produced ‘an effective design’. A year later the Boat Club was able to report that ‘it was with great pleasure that we got into our new boat house at the beginning of this term [Michaelmas 1896]; we need not describe it, as by this time there are very few who have not seen it’. Thanks were expressed to the ‘many old members of the boat club who have responded so heartily to the appeal’. The boathouse underwent a ‘splendid’ extension and refurbishment’ in 1994 under the aegis of the Master, Lord St John of Fawsley. The 1896 half-timbered frontage was retained, however, and the new sections were designed ‘to complement in form and materials the original boathouse…’. According to Lord St John, the building’s ‘blue and white exterior has become one of the dominating sights of the river’.

B is for … Bowls

The first Master of the college, Laurence Chaderton, was said by his biographer William Dillingham, writing in Latin, to have enjoyed pila utraque, but it is impossible to know whether this last phrase refers to bowls, or some other ball game(s). Bowls was certainly played at Emmanuel from its earliest days, if the antiquary John Aubrey can be relied upon. In his most well-known work, Brief Lives, he relates that the famous Elizabethan theologian Lancelot Andrews caught Emmanuel’s ‘zealous Preachers’ playing bowls in the Fellows’ garden on the Sabbath. Bowling was a notorious betting game, which explains Aubrey’s dismissal of the Emmanuel Fellows as ‘hippocrites’. Playing bowls on Sundays would, in fact, be banned by a Royal Declaration of 1618. The game never went out of fashion at Emmanuel, however, and is still played in the Fellows’ Garden. The college has a fine collection of woods, dating back to the late eighteenth century. A few of these quaint old bowls (‘mince-pie’ being a formerly popular shape) bear the initials or name of their original owners, e.g. ‘Blackall’ (Samuel, Fellow 1794-1812) and ‘RTC’ (Robert Towerson Cory, Master 1797-1835). The Parlour wager books record many bets made among the Fellows about bowling. On 20 May 1800, Richard Brassey, a fellow commoner student, lost the following bet: Todd v. Brassey - Blackall with three bowls will beat Brassey & Rogers two games out of three. N.B. By. & Rs. have the jack every lead. (Todd’s evidence - Blackall played one game & won it, Brassey refused to play any more.)

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

1 May 2024

                                                  New and Rare Beautiful-Leaved Plants (1870), ‘Rhapis flabelliformis’

In this country we like to think of ourselves as a nation of gardeners – by which we mean all those who busily and lovingly tend their town and suburban gardens, which are mostly modest in extent. But one, now largely forgotten, Victorian journalist and writer on horticulture had a key role in laying the foundations for this cult of small-scale ‘do-it-yourself’ gardening, and some of his many works are in Emmanuel’s collection of illustrated books.

James Shirley Hibberd (1825-1890) was born in Stepney, son of a sea-captain who had served under Nelson; he was apprenticed to a bookseller but moved into horticultural journalism, publishing as ‘Shirley Hibberd’. As he struggled to grow flowers, fruit and vegetables in his garden in Stoke Newington, despite the polluted, soot-laden London air, Shirley Hibberd noticed that the horticultural press of the day was directed at country house owners, their head gardeners, and the nursery men who supplied them. These professional garden writers ignored the possibility of gardening in towns and suburbs. By contrast, Shirley Hibberd saw gardening as open to all, and lambasted the Royal Horticultural Society for taking no account of the working-class amateur gardener. Shirley Hibberd saw a gap in the market for advice and self-help publications for amateur gardeners wanting to make something of their small urban gardens.

For this market Shirley Hibberd produced a stream of books and started three gardening magazines, including Amateur Gardening in 1884, which is still being published today. Titles included Rustic Adornments for Homes of Taste, The Rose Book, The Amateur’s Flower Garden. His The Fern Garden (1869) was particularly successful, promoting the Victorian predilection for these graceful plants. Other popular works included The Amateur’s Green House and Conservatory and Field Flowers, a month by month guide to the blooming of wild flowers.

                                                                    The Fern Garden (1869), ‘Asplenium viride’

                                                        The Amateur Greenhouse (1880), ‘Begonia diversifolia’

Being self-taught himself, and unimpressed by experts, Shirley Hibberd was a natural at writing for amateur gardeners, soon becoming a household name and a leader of fashionable taste in the modest garden. Anticipating today’s TV gardeners, Shirley Hibberd drew on trial and error in the renovation of his own Stoke Newington garden to demonstrate for readers the creation of a rockery or a fern garden, or how to secure a succession of colour, or a succession of fresh fruit and vegetables in times before refrigeration. His advice was practical: for his amateur readership he did not recommend the Victorian craze for ‘carpet’ bedding of massed annuals – it was too expensive and labour-intensive – instead preferring herbaceous perennials and shrubs.

In several of his most striking publications Shirley Hibberd emphasized the beauty of foliage in its own right, although he saw gardens as essentially artificial creations and (unlike the inane modern fad) he had no wish to recreate a meadow inside a garden. His The Ivy: Its History, Uses and Characteristics (1872) was among the first to make a study of ivy and promote its beauty for garden use. Like other of his books, the binding and illustration aimed to match the beauty perceived in the subject.

                          The exquisite binding of ‘The Ivy’ (1872), and the title-page, showing an ivy-covered Conway Castle

Shirley Hibberd had himself collected 200 varieties of ivy.

                                  The Ivy: Frontispiece showing five varieties of ivy, and a plate showing six further varieties

In his study of New and Rare Beautiful-Leaved Plants (1870) the 54 striking coloured plates do justice to their subject.

                                               Beautiful-Leaved Plants (1870), ‘Musa vittata’ and ‘Maranta illustris’

Their purpose is to inform and encourage the amateur gardener to experiment with new foliage effects in the urban garden.

                                              Beautiful-Leaved Plants, ‘Draecena terminalis’ and ‘Alocasia lowii’

In some of his enthusiasms Shirley Hibberd anticipates the present: he advocated a green belt around London; he fretted over the survival of wild flowers; he kept bees; he advocated systems whereby each household collected rainwater for domestic water supply; for a while he espoused vegetarianism (but lapsed). Apart from one surviving small park that he designed at Islington Green, all of Shirley Hibberd’s London gardens have been built over, but his legacy is the continuing and absorbing cult of amateur gardening in the modest plots gardened by most people.

Barry Windeatt, Keeper of Rare Books

30 April 2024

As I write this latest edition of my blog, the sun is shining and there is not a cloud in the sky. This feels like a welcome relief from the months and months of grey, wet weather that the Garden Department has had to endure. Reports say that there has not been a full dry week since September 2023. I can quite believe this. It has been the wettest period in my 35 years plus career. Let’s hope for a better late spring and summer.

The Garden Department has been extremely busy this year, more than ever. We have been trying to juggle several projects and still maintain the beautiful grounds that we are blessed to work in.

One of the largest projects that we are undertaking is the building of the new College Community Garden. These are being built at the rear gardens of Park Terrace, the idea being that this will become a non-hierarchical space to build a community of gardeners. The long-standing health benefits are widely reported and should help those that are wishing to undertake a gentle pastime to include growing vegetables and cut flowers.

The gardens will be available, within time, to the Emmanuel community, whether students, staff or Research Fellows staying with us. There will be a selection of raised beds along with composting solutions to help with food waste.

It is unfortunate that we must delay the building of this garden while the quiet period is on, along with the exams. We hope to have a soft launch towards the end of May, when some of the work will be complete. We will continue to build over the summer and should be up and running fully at the start of the new academic year.

We have also marked out two tennis courts on the Paddock. This sees the return of tennis to the Paddock after a break of at least four years due to building works. I have put only two courts up, specifically with the intention of an area to play a little light social tennis. They are to be used as a facility to relieve such pressures of exam stress and encourage students to get out of their rooms and take a short break. If serious tennis is required, then we have some fantastic facilities at the college sports ground on Wilberforce Road. Tennis bookings will soon be available to book via the college CASC booking system.

The rest of the gardens are really starting to come alive. The vegetation around the pond is growing fast, the mini meadows at the front gardens of Park Terrace are thriving, the spring meadows on the Paddock have been magnificent and the lawns are looking lush and green. Warmer weather is forecast this week so please get out and enjoy the gardens whenever you can.

We have been busy in the greenhouse growing plenty of seeds to be planted out later into the borders. The window boxes in Front Court will return in May too.

Kind regards.

Brendon Sims, Head Gardener