Hobson's Brook, Cambridge

 Hobson’s Brook, Cambridge

 

 

Snobbish rivalry between the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge has, over the centuries, produced a collection of mutual put-downs, some nasty, a few witty. The general gist is: Oxford is a Midlands industrial town with some colleges attached; Cambridge is a dank bit of flat fenland with some colleges attached.

 

I do not choose to add to this venerable depository of pith. But I will say that, after many years of acquaintance with both cities, I have found Oxford more varied in its streets and alleys, its waterways (two rivers and a confusing canal) and its hilly surrounding countryside. Cambridge is second to none in its collegiate grandeur along the banks of the River Cam, and the mysteries of the Fens are intriguing. But there is no getting away from the truth that it is all a bit flat (good for the cyclist).

 

Apart from the pleasant walk through meadows along the Cam to Grantchester (Byron, Rupert Brooke and, God help us, Jeffrey Archer), Cambridge does not at first sight offer much to the rambling visitor outside the district of its impressive Colleges and the wonderful Fitzwilliam museum. So I have complacently thought for many years. Then serendipity pounced, or happened along.

 

We had spent a happy hour or more in a largely empty Fitzwilliam, gazing without any waiting or jostling at pictures by Titian, Canaletto, Sargent

and Sickert (alas, no French Impressionists: a leaking roof has closed their gallery). The Sickert nude, in common with others from the late C19 and early C20 (eg Manet’s) is surely among other things a riposte to the male gaze-indulging eroticism of Titian and other renaissance artists. 

We began the walk back to the house where we were staying, on the south side of Cambridge.Traffic was already building, and jamming, in one of the two main radial southerly roads along which we walked – thankfully with one of the city’s ample cycle lanes between us and the shuffling cars. 

We passed the boundary of the University’s Botanic Gardens. Between the boundary and our pavement there was a fairly wide channel of water, complete with rushes and ducks. When we arrived at the busy junction, where the plan was to turn East and walk up to the other radial road, we noticed a sign indicating that the watercourse continued further, with a path alongside.

 

So began our discovery of an enchanting bit of Cambridge, hitherto unknown to me and probably to many others, whether inhabitants, students, or recurring visitors.

 

What we had found was the Rus in Urbe course of Hobson’s Brook, or Conduit. This is a channel created in the early C17 to bring to the City and University fresh water from a small tributary of the Cam, flowing south of the City. The channel is not much more than a mile (1.6K) in length. It’s a miniature version of the New River flowing into north London, which dates from the same time. These days, Hobson’s Conduit supplies decorative water to some College ponds, whereas the New River still feeds active reservoirs.

 

The stretch we were so taken with is the path and the watercourse comprising the natural stream, which at a certain point curves away towards the Cam, and the “new” channel dug off it at that point, which flows straight towards the City centre. The path is unbroken, crossing the junction on a little wooden bridge. The path and watercourse are protected by trees and bushes, miraculously separated from Cambridge’s dense office and housing developments.

On the side away from the stream, the path is flanked by quiet allotments, and then an intriguing wood, which appears to have public access (why has it not been felled for a housing estate or tech park?). Best of all, there are stretches where the path is bordered by an avenue of trees, and, with the brook, wends its way in very slight but pleasing undulating curves.

 

Feb 2022