Cambridge University is celebrating its 800th anniversary this year, which means that the city of Cambridge is having to celebrate it too. This is not unreasonable, given that the city owes its state of touristic luxury to the academic institution which settled there not long before the signing of Magna Carta, in 1209. It was founded by scholarly clerics in search of the “peace, independence and freedom" that insularity is often thought to bring.
The city is outwardly indivisible from the university, and always has been. This has long given rise to internal friction. The town/ gown division is a strange, invisible thing, exacerbated at both social and economic levels by the fact that the University owns the vast majority of Cambridge real estate and is therefore in a position to influence who lives and works where, on what terms and in what conditions.
This inequity is further complicated by the fact that the University isn‘t a single organism but a collection of smaller ones operating in their own interests, harnessed by some vague notion of the general good. The upshot is that the colleges divide and the colleges rule. The “town" simply has to get on with it and exploit the benefits. They are considerable, even for those souls constrained to live out of sight of the centre in estates cached on the fringes of the city.
Pleasures of the city There‘s the Fitzwilliam Museum, Kettle‘s Yard gallery, the Scott Polar Research Institute, the Whipple Museum (of the History of Science), the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, the Corpus Clock, the Round Church, King‘s Chapel, the Folk Museum, the Botanic Gardens, The Eagle pub and, of course, punting on the Backs. The subtler pleasures of the city are harder to extract. For much of the spring, access to colleges is restricted to some extent, depending on a handful of variables to do with exam timetables and proximity to the Backs. King‘s, Queen‘s, Trinity, St John‘s and Clare Colleges are burdened with the most beautiful rear aspects of any buildings in England and so have found it prudent to charge visitors for the privilege of breathing their in-season air.
And why not? Cambridge colleges are not museums; they live and breathe as well as look pretty, and it is their duty to insulate the labours of their undergraduates. But it remains an awkward fact that ordinary folk can come and go relatively freely among most of the colleges most of the year round. Private areas are always clearly marked, once you‘re in. But it‘s getting in that often proves daunting: those of self-effacing nature may not find it easy to insinuate themselves through posterns and porters‘ lodges into what feels like someone else‘s private domain.
Accessible Well, it is and it isn‘t a private domain, and that‘s where the difficulty lies. Colleges are obliged to make themselves accessible but on the whole would prefer it if they were allowed to get on with their activities undisturbed - which is why they don‘t make themselves inviting. But be brave and be quiet, polite and observant of the regulations and all will be well. And make sure you go to the Visit Cambridge information office in Wheeler Street first. Cambridge is such a complex structure, it really is worth orientating yourself with a map.
There is, of course, a multitude of events planned for the 800th anniversary celebrations and, this being Cambridge, they will be idiosyncratic in both their content and their execution. But actually, Cambridge doesn‘t need events to make it sing. It is above all a place of atmosphere.
O autorovi| The Independent
