Friends reunited

On the day after the Royal Wedding, Trinity Hall hosted its own festivities – a celebration of benefaction. Members of the Nathanael Lloyd Society were joined by Supporters of the Old Library for a delightful afternoon.

Lunch and talk in the Graham Storey Room

Drinks in the Master’s Lodge and a convivial lunch were followed by Dr John Pollard’s fascinating talk on the history of benefaction at Trinity Hall – starting at the very beginning with our founder, Bishop Bateman, who financed the establishment of the College in 1350 and also donated a number of his own books to the College library. During the talk, Dr Pollard showed us  the Founder’s Cup (brought out of the silver vault especially for the occasion and handled carefully with white gloves). It was a real treat to see this great treasure!

Nathanael Lloyd

Nathanael Lloyd

Nathanael Lloyd was another great benefactor of Trinity Hall and his generosity left a permanent stamp on the College. Through his sponsorship, the medieval buildings of Front Court were brought up-to-date by re-facing them with ashlar blocks. Lloyd’s benefaction is responsible for the pleasing aspect of Front Court as we know it today.

Front Court – General Admission 2010

We also have a number of books in the Old Library given to us by this former Master (1710-1735) identified either by the librarian’s inscription or by Lloyd’s distinctive signature.

Not easy to read – but this really is Nathanael Lloyd’s signature!

The afternoon continued with a visit to the Old Library, an exhibition of recent gifts and conservation work in the Chetwode Room and was rounded off by a relaxing tea on the terrace outside the Old Library. Undoubtedly, the highlight of the afternoon was the chance to talk to the rare books conservators, Melvin Jefferson and Edward Cheese of the Cambridge Colleges’ Conservation Consortium. They answered many questions and also brought along a variety of conservation materials for people to touch and see: from vellum and Japanese paper to native dyed Nigerian goatskin and examples of medieval binding structures.


Exhibition in the Chetwode Room

On the day we were particularly fortunate to receive donations of rare books from two Supporters of the Old Library. Alumnus Dr Philipp Mohr (TH 1990) brought us three superb (and by no means light) volumes of Papal Bulls all the way from his home in Germany.

Papal Bulls

Heavy tomes

They complement the volumes on Papal Councils already in our collection and are a valuable addition to our collection of canon law (historically a speciality of the College). The earlier volumes of “Magnum bullarium Romanum” were published in Lyon in 1655 and are illustrated with engraved portraits of the Popes.

Pope Clement

Impressively powerful fellow

The later volumes, published in Luxembourg between 1725 and 1730, have a pleasing view of the Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome on the title page.


A breezy day in Rome

At one point in the past this set of volumes belonged to B. Vanden Boom – whom I have been unable to identify. If anyone can help do let me know!

Vanden Boom

Stencilled mark of ownership

Two years ago we were fortunate to be the recipients of a magnificent three-volume work on theology by the great lawyer Hugo Grotius, also given to us by Dr Mohr. These books joined the Old Library’s existing volumes on law by Grotius that have been in the collection for centuries. It is nice that this previous donation has been joined by a further donation of books from Dr Mohr’s library.  Some book collectors start young and Dr Mohr is no exception. He purchased his first rare book at the age of twelve!

The other donation on the day was of four books from alumnus, the Reverend Bill Cave (TH 1973). One of these was found at the bottom of a box in a Cumbrian junk shop and is now valued at over £2,000. Of these books, more anon!


Thanks are due to Glen Sharp, Joss Poulton and Trinity Hall for the photos of Front Court, the exhibition and Nathanael Lloyd respectively.

And to Wikipedia for additonal information.


The entirely bearable lightness of Butler

The best way I can think of to describe the books I’ve been cataloguing recently is…heavy. That’s in subject matter (we’ve had the concept of truth, civil society and duties, the lives of various esteemed gentlemen of years gone by, some moral philosophy, and a particularly unusual book on grammar which explicated certain grammatical rules through the medium of verse and, in doing so, was about as successful as it would be for me to espouse the same grammatical rules via the medium of interpretive dance).  But they’ve also been really heavy books.  They weigh an actual ton.  Well, probably not an actual ton. But you catch my drift.  And so, when a slim (ish), light (ish) volume presented itself as the next-on-the-list-to-be-catalogued, joy was unconfined.

…what the books are not as light as

The book is Joseph Butler’s The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, published by Knapton in 1736Time for some vital statistics: it’s 320 pages, it weighs in at less than a bag of sugar, and subsequently meets the key criteria that I’d already decided on for the subject of the next blog post.  And yes, I know these are shoddy criteria.  But leaving that to one side, and starting in the traditional way, here’s a picture of the man of the moment:

Handsome fellow

Joseph Butler was born in 1692 in Wantage (then Berkshire, now Oxfordshire), and studied at Oriel College, Oxford.  He was a religious philosopher who, among other things, locked horns with Thomas Hobbes (the philosopher, not the tiger) and John Locke (the philosopher, not the character from LOST), took a highly defensive stance against any contemporaries who argued against traditional systems of morality and religion, and allegedly had words with John Wesley (the founder of Methodism, not anyone else you might know with this name) over his license to preach and the behaviour of his followers.  Quite a CV.  Not much is known about his early life, and it seems that he didn’t really come to prominence until he published his Analogy, which I’ve got in front of me now, in 1736.  He was ordained, so it’s likely that he had parishes, and at one stage he gained the favour of Queen Caroline, the wife of King George II, so he must have been fairly well known, or at least well regarded.  What else?  Well, he became the Bishop of Bristol in about 1740.  The see of Bristol was pretty poor, so it wasn’t exactly the best gig–and the Internet has it that Butler kicked up a bit of a fuss about this appointment.  No less than a decade later he was transferred–promoted, I suppose–to Durham, which was as rich as Bristol was poor.  Butler was Bishop there for about two years before promptly dropping dead in 1752.  Which wasn’t great timing.

Good excuse to use a nice photo though

So he was a theologian, eh? Horace Walpole, the Earl of Orford and the owner of a quite superlative name, described Butler’s theology thus: it is “wafted in a cloud of metaphysics” (IEP), he said, which is really rather lovely.  I’ve got no idea what it means, but it sounds marvellous.  As a graduate of theology (though having never knowingly studied Butler), I decided to at least try to talk about Butler’s theology which will either a) go well or, more likely, b) go wrong, and therefore serve as a timely reminder as to why I gave up theology to become a librarian in the first place.

Well, wouldn’t you?

Here goes.  Butler’s basic understanding–and this underpins the Analogy as well as the rest of his work–naturalises morality and religion. For Butler, they’re just extensions of the common way of life, of nature, and of human nature, and of the world itself.  He uses human nature as an analogy: it’s hierarchically ordered, with conscience right at the very top.  Conscience adapts us to nature, and because conscience deals in issues of virtue and vice, it becomes impossible to divorce nature from morality.  So, if you dismiss morality (and by extension, religion–Christianity, I presume–which Butler perceives as the source of morality), you dismiss the world and your own nature.  Phew.  From this position, Butler draws up many refutations against the ideas of some sceptics, including a branch of Deism espoused by Matthew Tindal which denies, in a roundabout way, revelation through miracles, and he also develops some solutions to the doctrine of necessity and the problem of evil.  He was clearly quite the thinker.

Thinking about his dinner…?

Trinity Hall’s copy of the Analogy is pretty unremarkable, though it’s certainly an early copy.  Unfortunately there’s no discernable provenance, and few signs that it was ever actually read, no marginalia, nothing really that makes this copy stand out as unique.  Which is a pity, as it’d be good to end this blog post with something that’d draw everything together.  But in the words of Butler himself, though admittedly not from the Analogy (thank you Professor Internet), every thing is what it is and not another thing.  Oooh, heavy stuff.

References: IEP, mainly, and then a bit of Wikipedia as well.

Image credits: Feathers, from Joe Shlabotnik; Butler, from IEP and Royal Berkshire History; time, from Toni VC; gorgeous library, from Presurfer. Many thanks to all!