The night climbers of Trinity College

This article was published in Trinity News on 28 October, 2008, the third 'Old Trinity' column.

The night climbers of Trinity College

THIS TIME last year The Night Climbers of Cambridge was reprinted, bringing to a large audience the original guide to scaling the walls of Cambridge’s colleges, which was first published in 1937. It is a fascinating and entertaining description of the many forbidden routes which courageous nocturnal climbers have tackled in the University of Cambridge. While the hobby was never so popular in this university, we did have our own “night climbers” in the past.

Here in Dublin, as in Cambridge, the career of the night climber often began with an attempt to scale the walls to gain entry to college after the curfew. Students living in rooms were once required to be back in college by a certain time, and night roll, where the Junior Dean presided, was obligatory for those living in. These days, climbers are likely to be undergraduates intending to get back to a friend’s rooms after a night on the tear, or hoping to save on a taxi fare by sleeping in a society room.

When I was a student, not very long ago, one spot for late-night entry was opposite the train station on Westland Row – there were some excellent footholds in the wall. Cameras were installed on this area, unfortunately, and I know several graduates who earned their Junior Dean colours after being caught hopping over at this spot.

Not as easy, but away from the porters’ cameras, were the railings across from the Garda station on Pearse Street. The bus shelter gets a climber half of the way up, and it just requires a bit of effort to get over the spikes.

Only once did I go in over the railings behind the Luce Hall, with two others. The railings are precipitously high, and I was lucky not to be impaled, but the three of us were determined to get into Trinity Ball that night after being caught without tickets at a party in Botany Bay.

But these small climbs, undertaken in a slightly sozzled state, are insignificant compared to the ascents of The Night Climbers of Cambridge, which depicts fearless students scaling frighteningly high old buildings. The book cover shows a daredevil climbing the facade of our sister college, St John’s – and some amazing shots show figures perched on the pinnacles of King’s College Chapel.

Back in Dublin, our own holy grail is the Campanile. An issue of TCD: A College Miscellany in 1953 claimed that some students, along with a locksmith, had climbed to the top of the Campanile, entered through the small arches, and descended via ladders to the door, where the locksmith made a key.

The article seems hardly credible. It does carry a picture of Parliament Square taken through the grille of the Campanile, but I have taken a similar picture myself: if the door in one of the pillars is left open then entry is straightforward, and one can even engage in some campanology by pulling on the ropes.

The archive of the DU Climbing Club says that the craze of “buildering” – as they called it – became popular here in 1961, and the club even kept a guidebook for the college. Routes on the walls of the Graduates’ Memorial Building, New Square and the 1937 Reading Room are given, along with detailed instructions for climbing to the top of the Campanile.

According to an older issue of Trinity News, the first ascent was in Trinity week of 1962, when a red top hat was left to decorate the cross. It remained there until the following week when steeple jacks were called in and removed the hat at a cost to the college of £12. Offers by several climbers to remove the hat were rejected.

A TCD reporter of the time could not find any information on the climb. He mused in that paper on the possible origin of the red hat. He suggested, sarcastically, that it was a publicity stunt carried out by the socialist DU Fabian Society. Or perhaps, he wrote, the Climbing Club was expressing its exasperation at the poor quality of climbing routes in Ireland. Or maybe an American tourist had thrown his hat away and it had been blown onto the cross of the Campanile?

1965 saw another conquest, when the Climbing Club members – no other suspects this time – left a stuffed crocodile on top of the cross. It was “affixed to the summit with a spike through its belly” said the Climbing Club’s newsletter, which gave a romantic description of the climb. It mentions some close calls: the narrator says his friend helped him up at one stage by grabbing his ears!

The fire brigade were called in that year to remove the crocodile, says an old Trinity News. The same issue says that, since then, “there have been a few ascents, numerous attempts, and several unfortunate misunderstandings with porters as to the desirability of working off excess energy and intoxication in such a fashion.”

The lack of photographs and small contradictions in the accounts make one wonder how much of these stories are fantasy. CCTV, lighting and the diligence of the porters may have made Campanile-climbing extremely difficult, but if anyone does take on the challenge again, please take a camera with you!

IT IS WELL-KNOWN that the four figures on the Campanile represent divinity, science, medicine and law. The heads of Homer, Socrates, Plato and Demosthenes can also be seen on the structure. But what of the four coats of arms? One is that of the college. Another is the arms of either the Archdiocese of Dublin or the Archdiocese of Armagh (a count of the number of crosses formée fitchée on the pallium would distinguish) impaled with another’s arms. These are likely the arms of then Archbishop of Armagh, Lord John George Beresford, whose gift the Campanile was back in 1852. Can anyone confirm this and identify the other two?

I MENTIONED our so-called “sister college” above. People are fond of pointing out our association with St John’s College, Cambridge, and Oriel College, Oxford, with that fiendishly unreliable website as their source. It is true that an association was made with these colleges and KC Bailey records it in his History of Trinity College. In 1933, he says, “a ‘friendly association’ was established by mutual consent with Oriel College, Oxford, and, a few months later, an ‘alliance’ made with St. John’s College, Cambridge.” TCD: A College Miscellany says at the time that our scholars were involved in the arrangement. Honorary fellowships continue to be exchanged between our provost and the heads of Oriel and St John’s, but that seems to be the current extent of the relationship.