Blog

8 May 2026

X is for…XII Club

The most exclusive student clubs are, by definition, those with a limited membership, and the use of Roman numerals in their names adds an extra touch of class. Emmanuel had several such societies, the longest-lived of which was the XII Club. The Lent Term 1890 college magazine informed readers that ‘A literary society [had] been started among the first year men…at present it consists of twelve members, though it is not limited strictly to this number’. The club’s activities were originally twofold: firstly, to read classical plays aloud and secondly, to discuss essays written by club members. After a few years, though, its members decided to leave essay-writing to the Mildmay Club. The two societies continued to enjoy a friendly rivalry, however, competing against each other in an annual fancy-dress boat race (the caption to the 1951 photo reproduced above declares that the XII Club’s victory represented ‘the greatest sporting sensation of the year’). Perhaps motivated by brief flares of egalitarianism, one or two of the XII Club’s early magazine reports render its name as ‘Twelve’, but the use of Roman numerals always prevailed. The club lapsed during the Second World War but was re-founded in 1946 at the prompting of two college Fellows. The new members continued the club’s tradition of ‘reading plays and drinking beer – and coffee’. Edward Welbourne, Senior Tutor and later Master, dismissed the new incarnation as a bunch of ‘college toughs’! The XII Club’s upbeat report in the 1967-68 college Magazine declared that it had ‘flourished’ that year, having ‘profit[ed] greatly from the conversation, inhibition, lack of inhibition, and insanity of its new members’ (and, one suspects, the regular presence of guests from the women’s colleges). It is surprising, then, that the club appears to have become defunct almost immediately afterwards.

X is for… X-ray Crystallography

This discipline, involving the study of the atomic and molecular structure of crystals, has advanced tremendously in the last century. A pioneer in the field was John Desmond (‘Des’) Bernal, admitted to Emmanuel in 1919. Bernal (standing 2nd from the right, middle row, in this 1922 Emmanuel Natural Science Club photo) graduated with a First and went on to achieve international recognition for his achievements in the development and application of X-ray crystallography. According to his obituary in the 1971 college magazine, he was ‘an intellectual Marxist, fierce in argument but always gentle in manner, not a militant revolutionary’. All the same, Bernal’s robust support of Stalinism undoubtedly prevented him from receiving some of the honours that were his due. Abandoning pacifism in 1939, he made valuable scientific contributions to the war effort. In 1965 Emmanuel made him an Honorary Fellow, and in his letter of thanks Professor Bernal replied that he remembered the college ‘with the greatest affection and realise now what I owe to my training there’. X-ray crystallography was also the specialism of another remarkable Emmanuel man, David Elias. Admitted in 1938, he is thought to have been the first severely deaf student to be awarded a PhD. Elias later recalled that Cambridge’s supervision system was ‘almost as good as individual coaching’. He attended lectures ‘in the hope of getting something from the demonstrations by the lecturer and from the blackboard’ and sat next to friends ‘who let me copy their notes’. His interest in crystallography was formed at this time. After graduating in 1941, Elias worked as a technician at the Royal Ordnance Factory. Once the war was over, he enrolled as a research student at Leeds University, his doctoral thesis being entitled ‘An X-ray crystallographic study of trinitroethane’. Dr Elias later worked in the field of industrial research.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

16 April 2026

Plate 1.  'Leander's Vision',  from 'Hero and Leander' (by Christopher Marlowe, completed by George Chapman; edition illustrated by Lettice Sandford; The Golden Hours Press, 1933).

Emmanuel is fortunate to have – on long loan from the late Mr Charles Nugent and his family – a comprehensive collection of the published works of Lettice Sandford (1902-1993), who worked as a gifted wood-engraver in the 1930s and 1940s.

Lettice Sandford (nee Rate) grew up in comfortable circumstances at Milton Court, a seventeenth-century house on the outskirts of Dorking that had been substantially reworked by the Victorian architect William Burges for Lettice’s father, a wealthy lawyer, banker and philanthropist – the house survives as the offices of a health insurance company. Lettice studied at the Byam Shaw and Vivat Cole School of Art and then studied book illustration at the Chelsea Polytechnic, where she was taught etching by Graham Sutherland. In 1929 she married Christopher Sandford, a book designer from an Anglo-Irish background who would become a founding director of the Folio Society.

Together they started the Boar’s Head Press in Devon, a private press that published some of Lettice’s early wood-engraving work, starting in 1932 with her illustrations for an edition and translation of the poems of the Ancient Greek poetess, Sappho of Lesbos.

Plate 2.   'Sappho,' illustrated by Lettice Sandford (Boar's Head Press, 1932):  'The moon has set, and the Pleiades; it is midnight, the time is going by, and I lie alone'.

Plate 3.   'Sappho':  'Evening, that bringest all that bright morning scattered, then bringest the sheep, the goat and, back to its mother, the child ...'

Plate 4.   'Sappho':  'But thou shalt ever lie dead, nor shall there be any remembrance of thee then or ever ... but thou shalt wander unnoticed ... flitting among the shadowy dead ... ' 

Here she established her trademark deployment of very fine white lines incised into black, or vice versa, in images of exceptional fineness of detail. This is on display in her illustrations for the Boar’s Head edition of Thalamos (1932), ‘or The Brydall Boure, being the Epithalamion and Prothalamion of Edmund Spenser’.

Plate 5.   Frontispiece to 'Thalamos' (Boar's Head Press, 1932).

Plate 6.   'Thalomos':  'Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see / So faire a creature in your towne before?'

Also in 1932 the Boar’s Head Press published The Virgin by Marius Lyle, a kind of fictive alternative history of the Virgin Mary, for which Lettice provided a bold frontispiece illustration.

Plate 7.   Frontispiece to Marius Lyle, 'The Virgin' (Boar's Head Press, 1932).

Her Sappho and Virgin Mary show the beginnings of an identification with exceptional women that seems to run through Sandford’s work, and which is again to be seen in her striking engraving for Salome before the Head of St John (1933), a poem by N. Morland and Peggy Barwell, published by the Boar’s Head as a pamphlet. The looming figure of Salome, fixating on the saint’s severed head, dominates the composition, with its juxtaposed subsidiary images including Salome’s frenzied dance and Christ as the Man of Sorrows.

Plate 8.   'Salome before the Head of St John' (Boar's Head Press, 1933).

In 1933 Lettice provided a striking two-page frontispiece for a Boar’s Head edition of Dreams and Life by Gerard de Nerval: ‘an attempt by a poet and a genius, suffering from intermittent periods of insanity, to describe his sensations during those periods’.

Plate 9.   Frontispiece to Gerard de Nerval, 'Death and Life' (Boar's Head Press, 1933).

In the same productive year Lettice designed the illustrations for a Boar’s Head edition of Christopher Marlowe’s poem Hero and Leander, with a compelling frontispiece and images of the drowning Leander.

Plate 10.  Frontispiece to 'Hero and Leander' (1933).

Plate 11.  'Hero and Leander':  Leander sinks down in the sea.

The volume also illustrates Marlowe’s poem The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.

Plate 12.  Christopher Marlowe, 'The Passionate Shepherd to his Love' (illustrated by Sandford along with 'Hero and Leander'):  'Come live with me and be my love'.

Some of these Boar’s Head editions were issued in bindings that are themselves works of art and things of beauty.

Plate 13.   Some bindings, The Boar's Head Press editions.

Meanwhile in 1933 Christopher Sandford became the proprietor of the distinguished private press, The Golden Cockerel Press, and so Lettice began to publish her work with that press, beginning with a translation of Cupid and Psyche (1934).

The theme of unconventional women returns in Lettice’s engraved illustrations for the Golden Cockerel edition of The Golden Book of Kydno (1935). This is presented as the English translation from Modern Greek of a work of Lesbian literature from around 1900. Lettice’s illustrations no doubt seemed rather naughtier in 1935. By now, Matisse is an influence.

Plate 14.   'The Golden Book of Kydno', supposedly 'translated from the Modern Greek of Evadne Lascaris'; illustrated by Lettice Sandford (Golden Cockerel Press, 1935): 'Had dead and eternal Sappho seen you as I have seen, pale Palmyra, bathed in the green moonlight of the sea, no fire would have dared to burn the song born there like Venus'.

The following year the Golden Cockerel Press brought out an ambitious edition in a large format of the Old Testament book, The Song of Songs (1935). Lettice’s engravings illustrate a facing page of biblical text in splendid typography.

Plate 15.  'The Song of Songs', illustrated by Lettice Sandford (Golden Cockerel Press, 1936): illustration to the verses beginning 'I am black but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem' and ending 'A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts'. 

On one level, the Song of Songs is a Hebrew erotic poem, and it is perhaps not altogether surprising that Golden Cockerel subscribers could also purchase extra sets of the engravings to the Golden Book and the Song of Songs as loose copies each signed by the artist, and these came in a discreet sleeve.

Lettice Sandford continued to illustrate books for the Golden Cockerel and other presses until 1953. But for the next four decades of her long life she turned to other interests, becoming a pioneer in the revival of interest in corn dollies (traditional straw craft items) and moving on to an interest in working in watercolour. The College is lucky to be able to enjoy examples of her wood-engravings during a heyday of British book illustration.

Barry Windeatt (Keeper of Rare Books)

Plate 16.   An illustration by Sandford to Christopher Whitfield, 'Lady from Yesterday' (Golden Cockerel Press, 1939):  the narrator reflects by a tomb in a country churchyard.

14 April 2026

W is for…Walnut and Wolfenden

Before fixed names were given to Emmanuel’s buildings and courts at the end of the nineteenth century, a multiplicity of terms were used, many of them short-lived and/or colloquial. A letter written in 1695 by Thomas Dillingham, an Emmanuel graduate, recalled ‘the entry through which we got from the Quadrangle [Front Court] into Wolfenden’s Court’. James Wolfenden, a college Fellow during Dillingham’s undergraduate days, had evidently resided in the narrow courtyard that once occupied the site of the current southern Front Slips. The term ‘Wolfenden’s Court’ is not found in the college’s own records; indeed, the courtyard was known as ‘Long Court’ for most of the eighteenth century. Front Court, in particular, has been known by a variety of names over the centuries. In 1735, Thomas Wiseman, a handyman frequently employed by the college, presented a bill for painting the ‘posts & Rails [in] the Walnutt Tree Court’. An invoice handily submitted at the same time, by a different contractor, refers to mowing the grass in ‘the great court’ and ‘the Eagle court’. As it is known that Eagle Court was what is now called New Court, the logical deduction must be that ‘Walnutt Tree’ and ‘great court’ refer to the same place, i.e. Front Court. This would indicate that the tree that once grew in the centre of that quadrangle, as depicted in David Loggan’s well-known engraving of the late seventeenth century (pictured), was a walnut. If so, this would (alas) quash the romantic theory that the tree was an oak, planted to celebrate Sir Walter Mildmay’s famous metaphor about the college he had founded. While it is unlikely that another tree will ever be planted in the soil of Front Court, it might be worth noting that walnut trees can be successfully grown in pots…

W is for…Westmorland Building

The elegant Classical range on the south side of Front Court, now known as the Westmorland Building, has had an adventurous history. The original building on the site, erected in the mid-1580s, was known for several centuries as the ‘Founder’s Range’. It was said to have been built to a very high standard, and indeed it appears to be in excellent repair in Loggan’s engravings. Yet in 1718, the college sent out an appeal letter to raise funds for the reconstruction of this allegedly ‘ruinous’ structure. Perhaps ‘unfashionable’ might have been nearer the truth. The replacement building, the shell of which was completed by 1722, was furnished with a swish portico over the central staircase entry, surmounted by a carving of what the stonemason referred to as ‘the Founders Coarte of Armes’. The arms are, in fact, those of the Fane family. In 1599, Francis Fane, 1st Earl of Westmorland, had married the heiress Mary Mildmay, granddaughter of Emmanuel’s founder. Two of their descendants were major contributors to Emmanuel’s 1718 appeal: Thomas Fane, 6th Earl of Westmorland, who gave £500, and his brother John, later 7th Earl. Thomas also provided the architect of the new building, in the person of his own estate manager, John Lumley. The Founder’s Range was gutted by fire in 1811, and the under-insured college was obliged to launch another appeal. One of the chief donors to the repair fund was John Fane, 10th Earl of Westmorland. The range was formally renamed the ‘Westmorland Building’ in the late nineteenth century, as a tribute to the earls’ generosity. The image above shows the 1718 appeal letter (left), a contractor’s 1725 bill for work on the staircases of ‘the New Building’, and a photograph taken in about 1960, showing the building’s formerly soot-blackened façade.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

13 April 2026

April & May

Spring has a way of transforming the gardens almost overnight. After months of quiet preparation, April and May bring a rush of colour, movement, and growth that seems to gather pace by the day. These are the months when the College grounds feel most alive — and when the gardening team is at its busiest.

April: The Unfurling Month

April is always a month of promise. The borders wake up, the lawns green over, and the first blossoms appear as if on cue.

Borders waking up

Fresh shoots of hostas, phlox, asters, and astilbes have been pushing through the soil, and we’ve been mulching steadily to conserve moisture and suppress early weeds. The peonies are showing strong, healthy stems — a good sign for the display to come.

Blossom season

The College’s magnolias have been particularly elegant this year, especially the Magnolia soulangeana near the Jester sculpture. The cherries in the paddock and Chapman’s Garden followed with their usual exuberance, scattering petals across the lawns like a late spring snowfall.

Wildlife returning

The moorhens have resumed their patrols of the pond edges, and the first newts have been spotted in the water. Bumblebees are making excellent use of the pulmonaria, hellebores, and other early nectar sources.

Behind-the-scenes work

Much of April’s work happens quietly, but it’s essential to the health of the gardens:

· Dividing and replanting overgrown perennials

· Repairing edging and gravel paths

· Potting on summer bedding in the glasshouse

· Checking irrigation systems before the dry spells arrive

And this year, a particularly important task:

Dredging the conduit streams

To improve water flow and maintain the health of the College’s waterways, the team has been dredging the conduit streams. This is delicate work, and we take great care with the material we remove. The debris and silt are left to drain beside the water, giving the insects and aquatic invertebrates time to crawl back into the stream. Once the living passengers have safely returned, the remaining spoil becomes a valuable ingredient in our composting systems, adding structure and microbial richness. It’s a satisfying example of how small ecological decisions can support the wider garden environment.

May: Full Spring, Full Speed

May is when the gardens truly hit their stride — and when the pace of work becomes almost continuous.

Rhododendrons and azaleas

The Bluebells in the Fellows’ Garden have been spectacular, with deep purples, before the leaf emerging and shadowing the bulbs. The azaleas along the water’s edge by Emmanuel House are now in full colour, their scent drifting across the lawns on warm afternoons.

Lawns and lushness

With longer days and warmer temperatures, the lawns have entered their rapid-growth phase. Mowing becomes a near-daily rhythm, and we’ve begun selective feeding to keep the turf healthy without encouraging excessive growth.

Iris season

The bearded irises are beginning to open, their architectural foliage giving way to rich purples, blues, and yellows. They catch the light beautifully at this time of year.

Planting out

May is also the month when we begin planting out the summer displays:

· Tender salvias

· Dahlias (once frost risk has passed)

· Cosmos and tithonia for height and movement

· Pelargoniums for the more formal containers

The glasshouse empties quickly, and the borders fill just as fast.

Wild corners thriving

Our meadow areas are full of early growth — oxeye daisies, camassia bulbs, red campion, and a variety of grasses that bring softness and movement. These spaces are increasingly important for pollinators, and we’re seeing more species each year.

Looking Ahead

June will bring the next wave of colour: roses forming buds, wisteria preparing its second flush, and the herbaceous borders gathering momentum. For now, April and May have given us a beautiful start to the season.

If you’re passing through the College, take a moment to pause in one of the quieter corners. There’s always something new to notice — and often something quietly at work beneath the surface.

Best wishes

Brendon Sims (Head Gardener)

13 April 2026

W is for…Walnut and Wolfenden

Before fixed names were given to Emmanuel’s buildings and courts at the end of the nineteenth century, a multiplicity of terms were used, many of them short-lived and/or colloquial. A letter written in 1695 by Thomas Dillingham, an Emmanuel graduate, recalled ‘the entry through which we got from the Quadrangle [Front Court] into Wolfenden’s Court’. James Wolfenden, a college Fellow during Dillingham’s undergraduate days, had evidently resided in the narrow courtyard that once occupied the site of the current southern Front Slips. The term ‘Wolfenden’s Court’ is not found in the college’s own records; indeed, the courtyard was known as ‘Long Court’ for most of the eighteenth century. Front Court, in particular, has been known by a variety of names over the centuries. In 1735, Thomas Wiseman, a handyman frequently employed by the college, presented a bill for painting the ‘posts & Rails [in] the Walnutt Tree Court’. An invoice handily submitted at the same time, by a different contractor, refers to mowing the grass in ‘the great court’ and ‘the Eagle court’. As it is known that Eagle Court was what is now called New Court, the logical deduction must be that ‘Walnutt Tree’ and ‘great court’ refer to the same place, i.e. Front Court. This would indicate that the tree that once grew in the centre of that quadrangle, as depicted in David Loggan’s well-known engraving of the late seventeenth century (pictured), was a walnut. If so, this would (alas) quash the romantic theory that the tree was an oak, planted to celebrate Sir Walter Mildmay’s famous metaphor about the college he had founded. While it is unlikely that another tree will ever be planted in the soil of Front Court, it might be worth noting that walnut trees can be successfully grown in pots…

W is for…Westmorland Building

The elegant Classical range on the south side of Front Court, now known as the Westmorland Building, has had an adventurous history. The original building on the site, erected in the mid-1580s, was known for several centuries as the ‘Founder’s Range’. It was said to have been built to a very high standard, and indeed it appears to be in excellent repair in Loggan’s engravings. Yet in 1718, the college sent out an appeal letter to raise funds for the reconstruction of this allegedly ‘ruinous’ structure. Perhaps ‘unfashionable’ might have been nearer the truth. The replacement building, the shell of which was completed by 1722, was furnished with a swish portico over the central staircase entry, surmounted by a carving of what the stonemason referred to as ‘the Founders Coarte of Armes’. The arms are, in fact, those of the Fane family. In 1599, Francis Fane, 1st Earl of Westmorland, had married the heiress Mary Mildmay, granddaughter of Emmanuel’s founder. Two of their descendants were major contributors to Emmanuel’s 1718 appeal: Thomas Fane, 6th Earl of Westmorland, who gave £500, and his brother John, later 7th Earl. Thomas also provided the architect of the new building, in the person of his own estate manager, John Lumley. The Founder’s Range was gutted by fire in 1811, and the under-insured college was obliged to launch another appeal. One of the chief donors to the repair fund was John Fane, 10th Earl of Westmorland. The range was formally renamed the ‘Westmorland Building’ in the late nineteenth century, as a tribute to the earls’ generosity. The image above shows the 1718 appeal letter (left), a contractor’s 1725 bill for work on the staircases of ‘the New Building’, and a photograph taken in about 1960, showing the building’s formerly soot-blackened façade.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

13 April 2026

W is for…Walnut and Wolfenden

Before fixed names were given to Emmanuel’s buildings and courts at the end of the nineteenth century, a multiplicity of terms were used, many of them short-lived and/or colloquial. A letter written in 1695 by Thomas Dillingham, an Emmanuel graduate, recalled ‘the entry through which we got from the Quadrangle [Front Court] into Wolfenden’s Court’. James Wolfenden, a college Fellow during Dillingham’s undergraduate days, had evidently resided in the narrow courtyard that once occupied the site of the current southern Front Slips. The term ‘Wolfenden’s Court’ is not found in the college’s own records; indeed, the courtyard was known as ‘Long Court’ for most of the eighteenth century. Front Court, in particular, has been known by a variety of names over the centuries. In 1735, Thomas Wiseman, a handyman frequently employed by the college, presented a bill for painting the ‘posts & Rails [in] the Walnutt Tree Court’. An invoice handily submitted at the same time, by a different contractor, refers to mowing the grass in ‘the great court’ and ‘the Eagle court’. As it is known that Eagle Court was what is now called New Court, the logical deduction must be that ‘Walnutt Tree’ and ‘great court’ refer to the same place, i.e. Front Court. This would indicate that the tree that once grew in the centre of that quadrangle, as depicted in David Loggan’s well-known engraving of the late seventeenth century (pictured), was a walnut. If so, this would (alas) quash the romantic theory that the tree was an oak, planted to celebrate Sir Walter Mildmay’s famous metaphor about the college he had founded. While it is unlikely that another tree will ever be planted in the soil of Front Court, it might be worth noting that walnut trees can be successfully grown in pots…

W is for…Westmorland Building

The elegant Classical range on the south side of Front Court, now known as the Westmorland Building, has had an adventurous history. The original building on the site, erected in the mid-1580s, was known for several centuries as the ‘Founder’s Range’. It was said to have been built to a very high standard, and indeed it appears to be in excellent repair in Loggan’s engravings. Yet in 1718, the college sent out an appeal letter to raise funds for the reconstruction of this allegedly ‘ruinous’ structure. Perhaps ‘unfashionable’ might have been nearer the truth. The replacement building, the shell of which was completed by 1722, was furnished with a swish portico over the central staircase entry, surmounted by a carving of what the stonemason referred to as ‘the Founders Coarte of Armes’. The arms are, in fact, those of the Fane family. In 1599, Francis Fane, 1st Earl of Westmorland, had married the heiress Mary Mildmay, granddaughter of Emmanuel’s founder. Two of their descendants were major contributors to Emmanuel’s 1718 appeal: Thomas Fane, 6th Earl of Westmorland, who gave £500, and his brother John, later 7th Earl. Thomas also provided the architect of the new building, in the person of his own estate manager, John Lumley. The Founder’s Range was gutted by fire in 1811, and the under-insured college was obliged to launch another appeal. One of the chief donors to the repair fund was John Fane, 10th Earl of Westmorland. The range was formally renamed the ‘Westmorland Building’ in the late nineteenth century, as a tribute to the earls’ generosity. The image above shows the 1718 appeal letter (left), a contractor’s 1725 bill for work on the staircases of ‘the New Building’, and a photograph taken in about 1960, showing the building’s formerly soot-blackened façade.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

13 April 2026

Body Blog text

16 March 2026

March and April have brought a true taste of the British spring to the gardens here at Emmanuel College. The weeks have been a lively mix of bright sunshine and passing showers - those familiar April bursts of rain that seem to arrive just as the sun has warmed the paths and lawns. While the weather can keep us on our toes, it is exactly this combination of light and moisture that brings the gardens to life at this time of year.

Across the College grounds, spring bulbs are now at their peak and nowhere is this more evident than in the spring meadows on the paddock. What was only a few months ago a quiet winter landscape has transformed into a tapestry of colour. The bulbs have begun to weave their way through the grass, creating natural drifts that shift gently in the breeze. On brighter mornings the sunlight catches the blooms beautifully, while after a passing shower the petals seem almost luminous against the fresh green growth.

Another highlight of the season can be found in the Fellows’ Garden, where the flowing drifts of daffodils are now in full display. Designed to move through the landscape in soft, sweeping lines, the planting creates a sense of movement across the lawn and beneath the trees. As the breeze passes through, the flowers sway together like a golden tide, bringing both colour and energy to this peaceful corner of the College.

In the Jester Garden, the Magnolia soulangeana has also come into its own. At this time of year, the tree is covered in its elegant, tulip-shaped blooms, their soft shades of pink and white standing out beautifully against the still-bare branches. On sunny days the flowers seem to glow in the spring light, while after a shower they take on a delicate, almost porcelain quality. It is one of the most striking moments of the season and a favourite stopping point for many who pass through the garden.

These spring displays are the result of careful planning and planting in the autumn months, when thousands of bulbs were set into the soil with the promise of the season ahead. Seeing them emerge now - despite the shifting weather - reminds us how rewarding the rhythms of the gardening year can be.

As we move further into April, the gardens will continue to evolve. The bulbs will gradually give way to fresh growth in the borders, trees will come into leaf and the lawns will begin their steady spring growth. For now, however, it is the bulbs that take centre stage, making the most of every patch of sunlight between the showers.

If you find yourself walking through the College over the coming weeks, take a moment to enjoy the paddock meadows, the daffodil drifts in the Fellows’ Garden and the beautiful magnolia in the Jester Garden. Spring, in all its changeable glory, has truly arrived.

Behind the scenes, the gardening team has also been busy preparing the borders for the season ahead. As part of our ongoing efforts to garden more sustainably, we have been making good use of the material generated during winter pruning. Rather than disposing of cut stems, many have been carefully saved and repurposed as natural plant supports for the herbaceous perennials that will soon be emerging.

Stems of hazel and dogwood have proved particularly useful for this task. Their natural strength and branching structure make them ideal for creating unobtrusive frameworks that will support plants as they grow through the spring and into summer. Placed early in the season, these twiggy supports allow the perennials to grow up and through them naturally, providing stability while remaining largely hidden within the foliage.

It is a simple but effective approach that reduces waste, avoids the need for manufactured supports and blends beautifully with the natural character of the gardens. These small, thoughtful practices are an important part of how we continue to care for the College grounds while working in harmony with the environment.

At Emmanuel College, the gardens demonstrate a thoughtful approach to integrating art within the landscape rather than imposing it upon it. One particularly striking example can be found at the bottom of the paddock, where a series of birds crafted from cut willow have been attached to the dense yew hedge. This simple yet imaginative intervention transforms a functional boundary planting into a living artwork.

The birds, made from pale, woven willow stems, stand out vividly against the deep, almost black-green backdrop of the yew. The strong contrast in colour and texture immediately draws the eye: the organic, linear quality of the willow appears light and airy against the solid, clipped mass of the hedge. Because the forms are mounted at varying heights and angles, they give the impression of movement, as though a flock has just lifted from the ground and is sweeping upward across the hedge.

This approach exemplifies how garden art can emerge directly from horticultural materials. Willow, already associated with traditional craft and rural landscape practices, feels entirely at home within the garden setting. Rather than introducing a separate sculptural object, the gardeners have used plant material itself as the artistic medium, reinforcing the sense that the installation belongs to the landscape.

The result is both playful and subtle. From a distance the shapes resolve into a dynamic pattern of flight, while closer inspection reveals the texture of the woven willow and the skill of their construction. In this way, the installation reflects a broader philosophy in the gardens at Emmanuel College: art and horticulture are not separate disciplines but can work together to animate the landscape, creating moments of surprise, movement and storytelling within the planting.

Best wishes

Brendon Sims (Head Gardener)

13 March 2026

V is for ....Venus

Although in the early part of its history Emmanuel College was notable for its theologians, rather than scientists, it did produce several distinguished mathematicians and physicists. They included John Wallis, a founder member of the Royal Society, and Jeremiah Horrocks, his friend and contemporary at Emmanuel, who achieved posthumous fame for his contributions to astronomy. Horrocks, a native of Toxteth, was admitted to Emmanuel in 1632, aged 14 or 15. He returned home without taking a degree, but continued his studies in his spare time, corresponding with other astronomers and conducting some remarkable experiments. He was the first person to deduce that the moon circled the Earth in an elliptical orbit, and he also correctly predicted, observed and recorded the transit of Venus between the earth and the sun on 24 November 1639. Having set up his telescope and other paraphernalia, Horrocks began fretting about the weather, but all was well: ‘The clouds, as if by divine interposition, were entirely dispersed…I then beheld a spot of unusual magnitude and of a perfectly circular shape, which had already fully entered upon the sun’s disk on the left’. In January 1641, Horrocks was ‘snatch’d away by an untimely death in the flower of his age’, before he could publish his findings. His written account (in Latin) of the transit of Venus was eventually published in 1662, under the title ‘Venus in Sole Visa’. It included several remarkably accomplished poems on astronomical themes. John Wallis, dismayed that a ‘treatise of such importance to astronomy’ had lain inaccessible for so long, set about collecting as many other surviving Horrocks manuscripts as possible, and these were eventually printed as ‘Opera Posthuma’ in 1672. Incidentally, Horrocks’ name is recorded in Emmanuel’s admission register as ‘Jeremy Horrox’ (pictured, middle entry)

V is for…Victoria

The baptism of the future Queen Victoria took place on 24 June 1819 in the Cupola Room at Buckingham Palace. It was an uncomfortable occasion for all concerned, as the king, George IV, grumpily objected to all the names proposed by the baby’s parents. Throughout the bickering and weeping, the Archbishop of Canterbury, officiating, was encumbered with the ‘plump as a partridge’ baby. Although Victoria’s christening story is well known, the identity of the luckless archbishop is often overlooked. He was Charles Manners-Sutton (pictured), an Emmanuel graduate, whose fame at his old college is somewhat overshadowed by its other Primate, William Sancroft. A grandson of the 3rd Duke of Rutland, Charles was admitted to Emmanuel as a fellow commoner, but he did not conform to the rich-loafer stereotype of that class of student. On the contrary, he graduated 15th Wrangler in 1777. His intellectual abilities, united with his congenial personality, marked him out early for a distinguished career. When Bishop of Norwich, Charles once dined with the celebrated diarist ‘Parson’ James Woodforde, who found the bishop ‘very agreeable and affable, as well as polite and sensible’. Appointed Dean of Windsor in 1794, Charles was a favourite of both George III, who robustly supported his elevation to Canterbury in 1805, and Queen Charlotte. As archbishop, Charles fostered many worthy causes, such as the establishment of the National Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor. He did not forget his old college, contributing £200 to the appeal launched after the Westmorland Building fire of 1811. Queen Victoria’s coronation in 1838 was celebrated in Cambridge by a civic banquet, free to all and attended by thousands, on Parker’s Piece. Two engravings of the occasion were made. Interestingly, one depicts the new row of houses in Park Terrace as complete, while the other shows gaps where nos.11 and 14 now stand.

 Amanda Goode, College Archivist

19 February 2026

'An Englishman’s Home is his Castle’ makes both a serious and a humorous point. If castles are massively fortified, and designedly impregnable, residential strongholds, then this serves to emphasize how an ordinary home, in the eyes of its proud owner, may be seen with satisfaction as its own kind of protected space, a sanctum, private and secured against the world’s unwelcome intrusions. Yet most people’s modest homes and their comforts are ironically unlike most perceptions of a castle. What are the associations around castles, which have been a continuing presence in the British landscape for nearly a thousand years? In Britain, stone-built castles are essentially a creation of the Middle Ages, and in England a consequence of the Norman Conquest. Although there were fortified English towns before 1066 (some re-using Roman walls), it was the Normans who introduced castles to dominate strategic locations and serve as the strongholds of an imposed new nobility of Norman origins. Perhaps at some deep level castles remained symbols of a subjugation that – it might be fondly supposed – had not always been present.

By the time that medieval castles came to be depicted in Emmanuel’s collection of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century illustrated books, most had long been in a ruinous state of variously picturesque decay. In T. H. Fielding’s British Castles: A Compendious History of the Ancient Military Structures of Great Britain (1825) rampant vegetation scrambles over various castle ruins, half-absorbing them back into the natural landscape – so different to the current presentation of ruins, stripped of ivy in manicured lawns.

Such decaying castle ruins offered a focus for romantic constructions of the past. But castle ruins prompt reflections interestingly different from those prompted by the other great category of ruined medieval building in the British landscape: the ecclesiastical ruins laid waste at the Dissolution of the Monasteries. To the latter usually attaches a lingering nostalgia for otherworldly beauty and order that were irretrievably lost during one short, brutal oppression.  Castles have more mixed, this-worldly associations: both defensive and offensive, both bases and objects of assault; places of sanctuary and refuge, but also of constraint and imprisonment. Increasingly obsolete in their original military purpose, but they long remained evocative of local power and control, often serving as prisons.

For the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung (1875-1961) the castle symbolized the human psyche as an inner stronghold, with its stout walls representing boundaries between the individual and the outer world. It is tempting to recall this conception in depictions of castles as full-square masses like Goodrich Castle, or the dominant masses of Thirlwall Castle and Lindisfarne seen against the skyline. Such castles, as intended, project power in both their situation and their containment.

In the Welsh landscape the formidable castles built by Edward I (like that at Flint, shown here beside tumultuous seas) continued to symbolize English dominion long after their own strategic contribution had passed, but Welsh rulers also built stone castles, as did Llywelin the Great at the strategic point of  Dolwyddelan in Snowdonia, depicted by Fielding in all its lonely splendour.

From the Isle of Man to the Hebrides, artists were depicting the strong vertical lines of surviving castle towers and turrets set in lonely expanses of coastline or perched on vertiginous cliffs.

But in his archetype of the castle as a symbol of the self, Jung saw the castle structure as representing levels of awareness, where the castle’s dark, deep spaces – cellars, dungeons, steeply descending staircases and deeply excavated foundations – might represent the collective unconscious and very ancient shared human history. Fielding shows the ruined inner courtyard of Edward I’s Beaumaris Castle on Anglesey as dark and gloomy, while a contemporary account of Windsor Castle focusses on a seemingly endless ‘Ancient Staircase’ within the Round Tower.

If twentieth-century psychologizing seems a long way from the ruined British castle, it is perhaps no coincidence that in the heyday of medieval construction of imposing stone castles, medieval authors were composing works in which imaginary castles in romances and spiritual works were interpreted as buildings with allegorical meanings.

British Castles includes both a Roman remain and one castle that has never gone out of date. Burgh Castle, near Great Yarmouth, is a special survival as the best preserved example of a Roman coastal fort. The artist has responded to the looming proportions of the structure’s squat corner tower and walls, isolated in their marshland setting.

Among the most important coastal castles, Dover Castle has been successively updated and here, ten years after Waterloo, is depicted in neat good order. As late as World War II it was a strategic site. Alas, who would bet that Dover Castle will never have a strategic purpose again?  

Barry Windeatt (Keeper of Rare Books)

16 February 2026

February can feel like a held breath in the garden — a quiet pause between the deep stillness of winter and the exuberance of spring. Here at Emmanuel College, that pause is filled with promise. If you look closely — and I encourage you to do so — you’ll find the first signs that the garden is already stirring.

It has been fun having the students from Emma join us in the greenhouse recently. We held our first gardening workshop of the year and invited the students back to the college glasshouses as the weather was poor. This was an opportunity to learn about seed sowing and preparation for the Community garden beds. We plan our next workshop on Thursday 5th March at 2pm. All welcome.

Hellebores: Quiet Aristocrats of Winter

The Hellebores are at their luminous best just now. These stalwart perennials carry an understated elegance that rewards the patient observer. Their nodding blooms — in shades of ivory, soft lime, plum, and inky purple — hover above marbled foliage like finely crafted porcelain.

They thrive in the dappled shade and, at this time of year, they provide a vital source of nectar for early pollinators venturing out on milder days. There is something deeply reassuring about their composure. While frost may silver their petals at dawn, by midday they lift again, untroubled and resolute. They remind us that beauty need not shout to be heard.

Winter Aconites: Pools of Sunlight

Scattered like drops of captured sunshine across the lawns and beneath the trees, the Winter Aconites (Eranthis hyemalis) are now weaving their golden tapestry. Their bright yellow cups, framed by neat green ruffs, appear almost impossibly cheerful against the dark soil.

They are often the very first to brave the season, pushing through cold ground with quiet determination. On a grey February morning, they transform the garden. One can almost feel the collective lift of spirit they bring — a reminder that warmth and colour are on their way.

The First Stirring of the Bulbs

Already, the tips of spring bulbs are piercing the soil — green spears signalling the next movement in this seasonal symphony. Snowdrops have largely had their moment, but crocuses are gathering confidence, and the daffodils are not far behind.

There is a particular pleasure in watching this slow emergence. Each day brings subtle change — a little more height, a little more colour, a little more light. Gardening teaches patience, and February is its gentle tutor.

Beneath the Oriental Plane

One of the most anticipated displays at this time of year lies beneath our magnificent Oriental Plane. Though its great limbs still stand bare against the pale sky, at its feet a carefully orchestrated succession of bulbs is unfolding.

First come the aconites, creating a soft understorey of gold. Soon they will give way to drifts of crocus, followed by early Chionodoxa forbesii ‘Glory of the snow’, and then Ornithogalum umbellatum or Star of Bethlehem. This “carpet” effect is no accident; it is the result of thoughtful layering — bulbs planted at varying depths and chosen for their differing flowering times.

The result is a continuous sweep of colour that evolves week by week, ensuring that the ground beneath the Plane is never without interest from late winter into full spring. It is one of the garden’s quiet triumphs — a reminder that planning done months (even years) before yields its reward in moments like these.

Hope Rooted in the Soil

As we move toward March, the quality of light changes perceptibly. Days lengthen, birdsong strengthens, and the garden shifts from whisper to murmur. There is work to be done — beds to prepare, pruning to complete, edges to define — but there is also space to pause and appreciate.

Gardens are, at heart, an act of faith. Each bulb planted in autumn carries within it the promise of renewal. Each hellebore bloom is a declaration that winter does not have the final word.

If you find yourself walking through the grounds in the coming weeks, I encourage you to look down as much as up. Beneath the grandeur of old trees and historic walls, the smallest flowers are quietly heralding the season ahead.

Spring is not yet here — but it is unmistakably on its way.

Hoping for better weather and brighter skies.

Best Wishes

Brendon Sims (Head Gardener)

13 February 2026

U is for…Unicorn

A priority for any newly-founded Cambridge college was the accrual of a property portfolio that would yield a decent rental income, as the money received from student fees and study rents was nowhere near enough to cover its running costs. Emmanuel therefore used many of its early bequests and donations to purchase residential and commercial properties in Cambridge. In December 1621 the college bought a building on the south side of Petty Cury, partly with money recently bequeathed by a former Fellow, William Branthwaite. The property comprised seven tenements, including ‘a messuage or ynne called the Unicorne’. Together, the tenancies yielded an annual rental income of £41 7s. As the purchase price was £480, the college could not expect to receive a return on its outlay for more than a decade, but the Master, Laurence Chaderton, had the foresight to invest his old friend’s legacy wisely. The college archives contain a fine series of title deeds to the Unicorn, dating from 1573. One of them bears a particularly well-preserved example of the college’s official seal (pictured above, left). An even more remarkable survival is an early archival catalogue of the title deeds. Compiled in 1675, it was probably drawn up by the Master, John Breton, as the writing closely resembles his hand and the initials at the foot of the document can plausibly be interpreted as ‘J B’ (above, right). Some of the deeds he catalogued no longer survive, but the principal conveyances are still extant. The college sold the Unicorn in 1962. It had little choice, as the entire south side of Petty Cury, including several ancient and picturesque inns and shops, had been earmarked for demolition and redevelopment.

U is for…Utilities

Utility services such as running hot water, sewerage, electricity, gas and telephones are now taken for granted, but before their introduction in the second half of the nineteenth century, little had changed since the college’s foundation. Heating and cooking relied principally on coal, an enormous heap of which was stored in the kitchen yard. Lighting was supplied by lanterns and candles, with an ever-present risk of fire; a student’s neglected candle resulted in a conflagration that gutted the Westmorland Building in 1811. ‘Fresh’ water was delivered via a pump in the kitchen yard, while the Paddock pond supplied water to the college brewhouse. The tenants who ran the brewery were contracted to provide the college with beer that was ‘well boiled, fit for mans body’, a prudent stipulation. The college’s sewerage arrangements involved latrines that required regular ‘cleansing’. They are referred to in the early accounts by phrases such as ‘the house of office’ or ‘the necessary house’, but tradesmen were less dainty, being wont to use phrases like ‘the boys boghouse’ when submitting their invoices. The Master, Fellows and students had separate latrines, all of which were sited in the gardens, away from the buildings. An inevitable consequence was the ubiquitous use of night-time jerries. A bill run up by freshman Charles Chadwick upon his admission in 1657 (pictured), records an expenditure of 7s 2d on ‘A chamber:pott, candlestick [and] bason’. This entry neatly summarises the basic nature of the sewerage, lighting and personal washing facilities then on offer. Students and Fellows alike had their coal, ashes, hot water jugs and chamber pots carried up and down staircases by bedmakers and porters. While it is true that Cambridge college servants had a reputation for rapaciousness, one feels that they earned their tips and perquisites.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

20 January 2026

T is for…Tankards

Emmanuel’s plate collection contains several seventeenth-century tankards, a term then applied exclusively to mugs with a hinged lid. The earliest reference in the archives to one of these heavy pots occurs in 1620, when ‘Dr Branthwaites guilded Tankard’ is listed in a plate inventory. William Branthwaite, sometime Fellow of Emmanuel, was Master of Caius College at the time of his death, in 1619. Under the terms of his will, he bequeathed to Caius and Emmanuel identical drinking mugs, described as a ‘silver tankard pott, gylte, with my armes on it’. Emmnanuel’s early seventeenth-century ‘Benefactor’s Book’ assigns Branthwaite’s ‘chalice’ a value of £8, so it is not surprising that the tankard was stored in the Treasury, with other precious silver-gilt ware. Pewter tankards became widely used by students and Fellows alike during the 1620s, and many are listed in college plate inventories under the name of their owner (every member had his own personal drinking vessel). By the late-seventeenth century, though, unlidded ‘quart cans’ were becoming the fashion. This change in taste, as much as wear-and-tear, eventually led to nearly all the college tankards being melted down and re-fashioned. Branthwaite’s precious silver-gilt pot managed to survive until at least 1818, but it had gone by 1843. Half a dozen or so tankards did, however, escape the crucible. Ranging in date from 1675-1765, they are all inscribed with the names of their student owners, or rather donors, as the individuals involved were fellow commoners, who were obliged to present a piece of silverware to the college soon after their admission. Tankards enjoyed a renaissance in the nineteenth century, when they became popular as student sporting prizes. Several such trophies are held in the college Museum collection, including the Trial Eights tankard of 1875 pictured above.

T is for…Tunnel

Emmanuel is thought to be the only Cambridge college to have an under-road tunnel. Lined with Edwardian green and white glazed ceramic tiling, it is a much-loved feature of the college. The tunnel was constructed in conjunction with North Court, in the years immediately preceding the First World War. The City Council had previously agreed to sell Emmanuel Street to the college, so that the planned new court could be seamlessly integrated into the college precinct, but a change of policy resulted in the council providing a tunnel instead. Incidentally, the architect of North Court, Leonard Stokes, invariably referred to the underpass as a ‘subway’, presumably because it was intended solely for pedestrian, and not vehicular, use. In the mid-1950s, however, the college started calling it a ‘tunnel’, and this is now the preferred term. When Emmanuel Street was widened in 1968, the underpass had to be extended at its northern end, and although the new tiles matched the originals as closely as possible, the join is not difficult to spot. The dramatic possibilities offered by the tunnel’s echoing acoustics and diagonal orientation have not been overlooked. A theatrical production, Roseleaf, was staged there in 1993, and the tunnel also served as part of the ‘Northern Line’ for the 2013 May Ball, the theme of which was ‘Last Call to London’.  The tunnel’s resemblance to a London Underground station had been exploited as early as 1926, resulting in ‘one of the best rags ever perpetrated’. During the Long Vac, a group of Emma medics decorated the underpass with genuine railway posters, procured from Cambridge station by Julius Summerhays (1925). A mock station sign, ‘Emmalebone’, was painted directly onto a wall (see image above). This proved difficult to remove, earning Summerhayes an ‘avuncular’ rebuke from the Senior Tutor, P.W. Wood.

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

15 January 2026

The turn of the year always brings a quiet magic to the gardens at Emmanuel College. January may appear subdued at first glance, but beneath the bare branches and winter light there is already a sense of anticipation. For the gardening team, this is not a dormant time so much as a reflective and preparatory one - a moment to take stock of the year just passed and to set intentions for the season ahead.

Winter reveals the underlying structure of the gardens more clearly than any other time of year. The bones of the landscape - avenues of trees, clipped hedges, borders and lawns - stand out without the distraction of summer abundance. It is a valuable opportunity for us as gardeners to assess balance and proportion, to consider where planting has succeeded and where it might be refined. Pruning fruit trees, roses and shrubs is a major focus now, carried out carefully to encourage healthy growth and good form later in the year.

Despite the cold, there is plenty of life to be found. Snowdrops are beginning to push through the soil, offering those first hopeful flashes of white and hellebores are quietly coming into their own, unfazed by frost. These early-flowering plants are always a morale boost - not just for visitors, but for the team as well. They remind us that the cycle is already turning.

Winter is also a time for groundwork, both literally and figuratively. Soil care is central to everything we do and where conditions allow, we are improving beds with organic matter to support the coming year’s growth. Elsewhere, we are repairing edges, maintaining paths and ensuring that the gardens remain welcoming and safe throughout the wetter months.

Planning plays a major role at this time of year. Seed catalogues are well-thumbed, planting plans reviewed and ideas discussed. At Emmanuel, the gardens serve many purposes: they are places of beauty and calm, working spaces and settings for study, reflection and community life. Balancing tradition with thoughtful evolution is always part of the conversation. We aim to respect the character of the College gardens while responding to changing conditions, including the realities of climate and sustainability.

Sustainability continues to guide our decisions. We are increasingly mindful of plant choices that are resilient and supportive of biodiversity and of gardening practices that work with nature rather than against it. Winter is a good moment to review what has worked well in this regard and to look for opportunities to do better in the year ahead - whether through habitat creation, water management, or planting for pollinators across the seasons.

The quieter months also give us time to reflect on how the gardens are used and experienced. Emmanuel’s gardens are an integral part of College life, offering space for solitude as well as shared moments. Seeing students, staff and visitors enjoying the grounds throughout the year is one of the most rewarding aspects of our work and it shapes how we think about the future.

As Head Gardener, I am always grateful at this time of year for the dedication and skill of the gardening team. Winter work is often unseen, but it lays the foundation for everything that follows. The care taken now - in pruning, planning and preparation - will be evident when spring arrives in earnest.

As we move into the new year, we look forward to sharing the gardens with you as they unfold through the seasons. There is much to come and it all begins here, in the stillness and promise of winter.

Best wishes

Brendon Sims (Head Gardener)

10 December 2025

The panto season, along with other seasonal observances, is almost upon us. The spotlight this month on items in Emmanuel’s illustrated book collection is upon a curious and self-styled ‘peepshow book’ about Sleeping Beauty, produced in 1951 for the young at heart of all ages. Dating to the year of the Festival of Britain, this work by the illustrator Roland Pym (1910-2006) shows something of the same mid-century aesthetic. It involves an intricate folding structure in order to tell the familiar fairy tale in six scenes.

Each scene is comprised of four layers. Every picture has a frame bearing the text. Inside this are two folding sheets with cut-outs one behind the other, and then a background, so as to create an impression of a three-dimensional scene in a dramatically retreating perspective.

So in this first scene a King and Queen invite seven godmothers to their daughter’s christening, and six bestow attributes and accomplishments. On the left of the second folding layer are three fairies with the baby Princess, and on the right the seventh fairy looks on, while on the second folding layer are the other three fairies. But suddenly a chariot appears in the sky (painted on the fourth, background layer), with a wicked old fairy, angry at not being invited.

The wicked fairy issues a curse that at sixteen the princess shall prick her hand on a spindle and DIE. Cue horror! The King and Queen (on their thrones in a Gothic great hall) order all spindles to be destroyed in their kingdom, but the seventh fairy steps forward and modifies the curse: the Princess will not die but sleep for one hundred years and only be awakened by a King’s son.

On her sixteenth birthday the Princess opens a secret door to a room where an old woman sits spinning. When the Princess tries her hand at spinning she pricks her finger and falls at once into a deep sleep, as does everyone else in the castle, but the fairies appear and carry the sleeping Princess to a great bed.

Impenetrable thickets of brambles and trees spring up around the castle. One hundred years pass by, until a Prince, out hunting, hears the tale from an old peasant woman. At once the Prince resolves to waken the Princess and the thicket parts as if by magic to let him pass.

Inside the castle the Prince finds everyone, including the dogs, slumbering where they were when the Princess fell asleep. There are giant spider’s webs around.

The Prince duly finds the Princess, and when he kisses her she awakens with a smile. The spell is broken and everyone wakes up. All the good fairies come to the wedding of the Prince and Princess, who live happily ever after …

During his long life Roland Pym was a painter of murals, often compared with the more celebrated Rex Whistler, and designed the decoration of the Queen’s Retiring Room in the temporary accommodation at Westminster Abbey for the Coronation of Elizabeth II in 1953. He worked as a theatrical designer of sets for plays and operas, but saw his romantic style go out of fashion, although he continued to receive commissions, and also worked as a book illustrator for the Folio Society.

Barry Windeatt (Keeper of Rare Books)

8 December 2025

As another year draws to a close and winter settles gently over Emmanuel, it feels like the right moment to pause, look back and appreciate all that has unfolded in the gardens over the past twelve months. The cycle of the seasons always brings its share of surprises, challenges and small triumphs and 2025 was no exception.

A Year of Weather in Extremes

If one theme defined the year, it was the long hot dry spells. Our borders, however, rose to the challenge. The herbaceous displays along the Paddock and Fellows’ Garden filled out beautifully once temperatures settled, rewarding patience with generous colour.

Notable Highlights

• Herbaceous borders: This year’s borders were packed with colour and variety. It started with a strong show in the Spring with Peony’s and other spring bulbs and continued into Summer with the Roses and Salvia’s, Delphiniums and Sysyrinchiums. The Autum held on to its colour with the Eupatorium’s and the Hylotelephium.

• Community Garden successes: The good sunny weather meant that we had plentiful crops this year, starting with the onions and garlic planting, right through to harvesting the many pumpkins and squashes deep into late Autumn.

• Lawns and new students: The lawns bore up admirably under a busy conference season and another enthusiastic influx of freshers. The team’s efforts in autumn scarifying and over-seeding should pay off handsomely when Spring returns.

It was fantastic to provide yet another garden tour at the end of November. It was well attended with a good blend of new students and a return of members. It was a pleasure to show you all around.

Projects and Improvements

The team undertook several behind-the-scenes improvements that will continue to benefit the gardens long beyond this season:

· Continued soil-health work in the Herbaceous Borders, particularly mulching with our own leaf-mould.

· Expansion of wildlife-friendly zones, including additional log piles and nectar-rich planting.

· Ongoing renovation of older shrub areas, bringing in fresh structure while preserving character.

These quieter, less visible projects are often the ones that shape the future of the garden most meaningfully.

The Team

No review would be complete without mentioning the wonderful gardening team whose skill, humour and persistence keep the college grounds looking their best. From early-morning mowing to wet-weather pruning, from glasshouse seed-sowing to the endless battle with weeds, their work forms the rhythm of the college year as surely as the academic calendar.

Looking Ahead

Winter offers us the gift of planning - time to sketch next year’s borders, consider new plantings and prepare for the first signs of snowdrops. There are exciting developments planned for the coming year, including further enhancements to the Fellows’ Garden borders and the arrival of the newly planted Camassia bulbs in North Court.

A Final Word

To all students, staff, Fellows and visitors who have paused to admire a border, ask a question, or simply enjoy a quiet moment in the gardens: thank you. These spaces are at their best when they are lived in and loved.

Wishing everyone a peaceful Winter and a flourishing year ahead.

Brendon Sims (The Head Gardener) Emmanuel College, Cambridge

5 December 2025

Image caption: A gloomy corner of the college kitchens, c.1950

It is, of course, customary for Emmanuel’s kitchens to close over Christmas and New Year, a policy accelerated in the early twentieth century by the steadily dwindling number of resident Fellows. Kitchen menu books of the 1920s and 30s show that no meals were served later than lunch on Christmas Eve, and that the kitchen staff did not return to work until early January.

This civilised arrangement came to an abrupt end upon the outbreak of the Second World War. North Court was taken over by the military for the duration, and as the servicemen’s meals were prepared by Emmanuel staff, the kitchens were obliged to stay open all year round. The Christmas newsletters sent to old members in 1942 and 1943 lament the consequences: ‘short rations, staff changes, no vacations…we stagger from domestic crisis to domestic crisis’. The principal strain fell on the catering manager, Mary Bolt, whose kitchen workforce consisted mainly of untrained young women who decamped to better-paid jobs at the first opportunity.

As far as members’ meals were concerned, the only concession made to the kitchen staff on Christmas Day was that they did not have to cook a hot dinner. The handful of resident students and Fellows living in college were certainly provided with an evening repast, but it consisted of a simple buffet of cold cuts, potato salad and dessert, laid out in the afternoon. There had been a decent mid-day meal, though; the 1940 Christmas Day luncheon, for instance, comprised roast chicken, sprouts and baked potatoes, followed by mince pies. The menu in the succeeding three years was identical, except that Christmas pudding replaced mince pies.

In 1944, when the war was nearing its final stages, the kitchens were able to close for four days over Christmas, and the following year the staff had eight days off. A note of festivity returned to the menu books, too, as the evening meal served on 21st December 1945 was described as ‘Xmas dinner’, a title not applied to anything served during the war. This did not, sadly, indicate a more sumptuous meal, as the bill of fare was virtually indistinguishable from the wartime Christmas Day lunches. The only touch of luxury was that the potatoes were roasted, not baked.

Image caption: Letter and menu for the college Christmas tea-party, 1948

The war might have been over (we have of course celebrated the 80th anniversary of its ending this year), but rationing continued, and it was several years before normal college hospitality was resumed. One of the earliest festive occasions was the dinner party hosted by Professor Ronald Norrish (one of Emmanuel’s three Nobel Prize winners) on Saturday 18th December 1948. Norrish was famed for his hospitality, and the guests stayed late into the night. Kitchen staff could leave, though, once they had cleared the dining table of all the food, plates and silverware. The porter on duty was instructed to check the gallery after everyone had gone, ‘and satisfy himself that no cigarette ends etc are left which could possibly cause a fire’. Different times! Three days later the college put on a Christmas tea party, presumably for the Fellows, but this did not involve extra work for kitchen staff, as the catering was provided by G P Hawkins of Sidney Street. The menu (shown above) sounds tasty enough, and although the chocolate eclairs may not have contained real cream, or indeed much chocolate, things were beginning to look up.

[The title of this piece derives from George Robert Sims’ famous Victorian poem, Christmas Day in the Workhouse, so beloved of the late Joe Grundy Esq of Ambridge. Sims’s melodramatic monologue has been much parodied, and at least two versions of Cookhouse are known, one of them featuring in the film Oh! What a Lovely War]

Amanda Goode, College Archivist

25 November 2025

S is for…Shuckburgh

Evelyn Shirley Shuckburgh, author of the first official history of Emmanuel College, is commemorated on a bronze plaque in the library. A fine piece by Ernest Gillick R.A., the sculpture does not, of course, convey the fact that its subject was tall, fair-haired and ruddy-cheeked. Shuckburgh was appointed to an Emmanuel fellowship after graduating 13th Classic in 1866. It was later recalled that he brought a ‘delightful freshness’ to the Fellows’ Parlour, although his blithe infringements of its more ‘absurd’ rules resulted in an ‘unprecedented total’ of fines. Upon his marriage to Frances Pullen, in 1874, Shuckburgh was obliged to resign his fellowship. He taught Classics for a decade at Eton, where his ‘tranquil kindliness’ endeared him to many pupils, but in 1884 he returned to Emmanuel, upon being appointed college Librarian. Shuckburgh was also a prolific translator and essayist, and was thus ideally fitted to write the Emmanuel volume in the University of Cambridge College Histories series. This book, published in 1904, is a highly readable, as well as useful, work of reference. Shuckburgh also wrote brief biographies of several Emmanuel worthies, and earned the enduring gratitude of researchers by translating, from the original Latin, William Dillingham’s invaluable memoir of Laurence Chaderton, the college’s first Master. In a letter written from Eton in April 1875 to a former colleague, Shuckburgh expressed a wish that it was the school holidays so that he ‘might lounge about for ever in this delicious weather’. In fact, he was an indefatigable worker, who when asked why he devoted so much leisure time to academic study, answered simply: ‘I enjoy it’. Overwork perhaps contributed to his sudden death in 1906, aged only 62. His friends remembered him as an ‘amiable, affectionate, charitable, large-hearted man’, with an immense enjoyment of life.

S is for…Sudbury Prize

A good many annual awards are now available to Emmanuel students, but for a long time only one was on offer: the Sudbury prize. The college’s early governors expected students to regard outstanding intellectual achievement as its own reward (with the contingent possibility of a fellowship, admittedly). After the disruptions of the Civil War and Commonwealth, however, it was felt by many, not least the new Master, William Sancroft, that the calibre of Emmanuel’s students needed raising. John Sudbury, admitted to Emmanuel in 1620, shared this opinion. A churchman and Royalist, Sudbury was deprived of his clerical living in 1642, but after the Restoration was appointed Dean of Durham. In 1667, he informed Sancroft that following their recent discussion, he would be giving the college £500 to fund, amongst other things, an annual student prize. Sudbury hoped this would be ‘an incentive to young schollers to study to deserve, partly for the advantage, which is but small, and partly for the honour of being reputed the most worthy of their year, and therefore I intend it shall be bestowed upon no other consideration but that of merit for learning and piety’. The prize was to be a piece of silverware worth £6, awarded to the BA commencer judged by the Master and senior Fellows to be the most deserving. The prizes could take any form (many recipients chose drinking vessels), but all were to bear the same Latin inscription, commemorating Sudbury, that Sancroft himself had composed. The award was later augmented by other benefactors and is now called the Sudbury-Hardyman Prize. It is currently reserved for students excelling in academic subjects for which no other named prize exists. Historic ‘Sudbury’ silverware occasionally comes up for sale, and several pieces have been acquired for the college, thanks to the generosity of an old member.

24 November 2025

As the final leaves fall and the days draw in, the gardens at Emmanuel College move into their quietest - but by no means least important - season. Winter preparation work is well underway and these late-autumn tasks help shape the displays and habitats that will flourish when spring returns.

Camassia Bulb Planting in North Court Meadows

This year’s major highlight has been the planting of Camassia bulbs in the North Court meadows. These elegant, starry-flowered perennials are perfectly suited to naturalising in grass and we’re introducing them to mingle with the existing wildflower mix. Over time, the Camassias will create soft drifts of blue and cream in late spring, rising above the meadow foliage and adding both height and colour to the early-season tapestry. Planting now ensures they receive the necessary winter chill to break dormancy and settle in for a long life among the meadow’s native species.

Tending the Meadow for Winter

The meadows themselves have been cut back and raked to reduce fertility - an important step in supporting the more delicate wildflowers that thrive in leaner soils. With the new bulbs tucked safely into the turf, the meadow enters a resting phase, ready to surge back with fresh energy in April and May.

Annual Cutting Back Around the Pond

Another key winter job has been the annual cutting back of the vegetation around the pond. This maintenance helps keep the waterbody healthy and prevents excess organic matter from accumulating and reducing oxygen levels. By clearing reeds, spent marginal plants and overhanging growth, we preserve open water, improve light levels and maintain a variety of habitats for amphibians, aquatic insects and overwintering birds. It’s a careful balance - enough clearing to protect the pond’s ecology, but always leaving sections untouched to provide shelter and continuity for wildlife.

Looking Ahead

Though the gardens may appear still in these colder months, the groundwork laid now prepares the landscape for a vibrant spring. We look forward to seeing the new Camassia begin their first tentative emergence next year and to welcoming the wildlife that relies on Emmanuel’s carefully tended habitats throughout the seasons.

Stay warm and we’ll share more updates as the turn of the year brings fresh signs of life back into the gardens.

Best wishes

Brendon Sims (Head Gardener)