One Snowy Night
Emily Sarah Holt
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
One Snowy Night, by Emily Sarah Holt.
PREFACE.
The story of the following pages is one of the least known yet saddestepisodes in English history--the first persecution of Christians byChristians in this land. When Boniface went forth from England toevangelise Germany, he was received with welcome, and regarded as asaint: when Gerhardt came from Germany to restore the pure Gospel toEngland, he was cast out of the vineyard and slain.
The spirit of her who is drunk with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus isthe same now that it was then. She does not ask if a man agree with theWord of God, but whether he agree with _her_. "When the Church hasspoken"--this has been said by exalted ecclesiastical lips quiterecently--"we cannot appeal to Scripture against her!"
But we Protestants can--we must--we will. The Church is not God, butman. The Bible is not the word of man, but the Word of God (OneThessalonians, two, verse 13; Ephesians, six, verse 17): therefore itmust be paramount and unerring. Let us hold fast this our profession,not being moved away from the hope of the Gospel, nor entangled againwith the yoke of bondage, but stablished in the faith, grounded andsettled. "For we are made partakers of Christ, if we hold the beginningof our confidence stedfast unto the end."
CHAPTER ONE.
SAINT MAUDLIN'S WELL.
"For men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner 'tis over, the sooner to sleep."
Reverend Charles Kingsley.
"Flemild!"
"Yes, Mother."
It was not a cross voice that called, but it sounded like a very tiredone. The voice which answered was much more fresh and cheerful.
"Is Romund come in yet?"
"No, Mother."
"Nor Haimet either?"
"I have not seen him, Mother."
"Oh dear, those boys! They are never in the way when they are wanted."
The speaker came forward and showed herself. She was a woman of someforty years or more, looking older than she was, and evidently veryweary. She wore a plain untrimmed skirt of dark woollen stuff, short tothe ankles, a long linen apron, and a blue hood over her head andshoulders. Resting her worn hands on the half-door, she looked drearilyup and down the street, as if in languid hope of catching a glimpse ofthe boys who should have been there, and were not.
"Well, there's no help for it!" she said at last, "Flemild, child, youmust go for the water to-night."
"I? O Mother!" The girl's tone was one of manifest reluctance.
"It can't be helped, child. Take Derette with you, and be back as quickas you can, before the dusk comes on. The lads should have been here tospare you, but they only think of their own pleasure. I don't know whatthe world's coming to, for my part."
"Father Dolfin says it's going to be burnt up," said a third voice--thatof a child--from the interior of the house.
"Time it was!" replied the mother bluntly. "There's nought but troubleand sorrow in it--leastwise I've never seen much else. It's just work,work, work, from morning to night, and often no rest to speak of fromnight to morning. You get up tireder than you went to bed, and you mayjust hold your tongue for all that any body cares, as the saints know.Well, well!--Come, make haste, child, or there'll be a crowd round SaintMartin's Well." [Note 1.]
"O Mother! mayn't I go to Plato's Well?"
"What, and carry your budget four times as far? Nonsense, Flemild!"
"But, Mother, please hear me a minute! It's a quiet enough way, whenyou are once past the Bayly, and I can step into the lodge and see ifCousin Stephen be at home. If he be, he'll go with me, I know."
"You may go your own way," said the mother, not quite pleasantly."Young folks are that headstrong! I can't look for my children to bebetter than other folks'. If they are as good, it's as much as one needexpect in this world."
Flemild had been busily tying on a red hood while her mother spoke, andsigning to her little sister to do the same. Then the elder girl tookfrom a corner, where it hung on a hook, a budget or pail of boiledleather, a material then much used for many household vessels now madeof wood or metal: and the girls went out into the narrow street.
The street was called Kepeharme Lane, and the city was Oxford. Thislane ran, in old diction, from the Little Bayly to Fish Street--inmodern language, from New Inn Hall Street to Saint Aldate's, slightlysouth of what is now Queen Street, and was then known as the GreatBayly. The girls turned their backs on Saint Aldate's, and wentwestwards, taking the way towards the Castle, which in 1159 was not aruined fortress, but an aristocratic mansion, wherein the great De Veresheld almost royal state.
"Why don't you like Saint Martin's Well, Flemild?" demanded the child,with childish curiosity.
"Oh, for lots of reasons," answered her sister evasively.
"Tell me one or two."
"Well, there is always a crowd there towards evening. Then, very often,there are ragamuffins on Penniless Bench [Note 2] that one does not wantto come too near. Then--don't you see, we have to pass the Jewry?"
"What would they do to us?" asked the child.
"Don't talk about it!" returned her sister, with a shudder. "Don't youknow, Derette, the Jews are very, very wicked people? Hasn't Mothertold you so many a time? Never you go near them--now, mind!"
"Are they worse than we are?"
Flemild's conscience pricked her a little as she replied, "Of coursethey are. Don't you know they crucified our Lord?"
"What, these Jews?" asked Derette with open eyes. "Old Aaron, andBenefei at the corner, and Jurnet the fletcher, and--O Flemild, not,surely not Countess and Regina? They look so nice and kind, I'm surethey never could do any thing like that!"
"No, child, not these people, of course. Why, it was hundreds andhundreds of years ago. But these are just as bad--every one of them.They would do it again if they had the chance."
"Countess wouldn't, _I_ know," persisted the little one. "Why, Flemild,only last week, she caught pussy for me, and gave her to me, and shesmiled so prettily. I liked her. If Mother hadn't said I must neverspeak to any of them, I'd have had a chat with her; but of course Icouldn't, then, so I only smiled back again, and nodded for `thankyou.'"
"Derette!" There was genuine terror in the tone of the elder sister."Don't you know those people are all wicked witches? Regular blackwitches, in league with the Devil. There isn't one of them would notcast a spell on you as soon as look at you."
"What would it do to me?" inquired the startled child.
"What wouldn't it do? you had better ask. Make you into a horrid blacksnake, or a pig, or something you would not like to be, I can tell you."
"I shouldn't quite like to be a black snake," said Derette, after aminute's pause for reflection. "But I don't think I should much mindbeing a pig. Little, tiny pigs are rather pretty things; and when theylie and grunt, they look very comfortable."
"Silly child!--you'd have no soul to be saved!"
"Shouldn't I? But, Flemild, I don't quite see--if _I_ were the pig--would that be me or the pig?"
"Hi, there! Where are you going?"
Flemild was not very sorry to be saved the solution of Derette'sdifficult problem. She turned to the youth of some fifteen years, whohad hailed her from the corner of Castle Street.
"Where you should have gone instead, Haimet--with the budget for water.Do go with me now."
"Where on earth are you going--to Osney?"
"No, stupid boy: to Plato's Well."
"I'm not going there. I don't mind Saint Maudlin's, if you like."
"We are out of the way to Saint Maudlin's, or else I shouldn't haveminded--"
"No, my lady, I rather think you wouldn't have minded the chance of adance in Horsemonger Street. However,
I'm not going to Plato's Well.If you go with me, you go to Saint Maudlin's; and if you don't, you mayfind your way back by yourselves, that's all."
And laying his hands on the budget, Haimet transferred it from hissister's keeping to his own.
Plato's Well stood in Stockwell Street, on the further side of theCastle, and on the south of Gloucester Hall, now Worcester College.Fortified by her brother's presence, Flemild turned after him, and theywent up Castle Street, and along North Bayly Street into Bedford Lane,now the northern part of New Inn Hall Street. When they reached theNorth Gate, they had to wait to go out, for it was just then blocked bya drove of cattle, each of which had to pay the municipal tax of ahalfpenny, and they were followed by a cart of sea-fish, which paidfourpence. The gate being clear, they passed through it, Flemildcasting rather longing looks down Horsemonger Street (the modern BroadStreet), where a bevy of young girls were dancing, while their elderssat at their doors and looked on; but she did not attempt to join them.A little further, just past the Church of Saint Mary Magdalen, they cameto a small gothic building over a well. Here, for this was SaintMaudlin's Well, Haimet drew the water, and they set forth on the returnjourney.
"Want to go after those damsels?" inquired the youth, with a nod in thedirection of the dancers, as they passed the end of the street.
"N-o," said Flemild. "Mother bade me haste back. Beside, they won't beout many minutes longer. It isn't worth while."
"Like a woman," retorted Haimet with a satirical grin; "the real reasonalways comes last."
"What do you know about it?" answered his sister, not ill-humouredly, asthey paused again at the North Gate. "O Haimet, what are those?"
A small company of about thirty--men, women, and a few children--werecoming slowly down Horsemonger Street. They were attired in rough shorttunics, warm sheepskin cloaks, heavy boots which had seen hard service,and felt hats or woollen hoods. Each man carried a long staff, and alllooked as though they were ending a wearisome journey. Their faces hada foreign aspect, and most of the men wore beards,--not a very commonsight in England at that date, especially with the upper classes. Andthese men were no serfs, as was shown by the respectability of theirappearance, and the absence of the brazen neck-collar which marked theslave.
The man who walked first of the little company, and had a look ofintelligence and power, addressed himself to the porter at the gate inexcellent French--almost too excellent for comprehension. For thoughFrench was at that date the Court tongue in England, as now in Belgium,it was Norman French, scarcely intelligible to a Parisian, and stillless so to a Provencal. The porter understood only the general scope ofthe query--that the speaker wished to know if he and his companionsmight find lodging in the city.
"Go in," said he bluntly. "As to lodgings, the saints know where youwill get them. There are dog-holes somewhere, I dare say."
The leader turned, and said a few words to his friends in an unknowntongue, when they at once followed him through the gate. As he passedclose by the girls, they noticed that a book hung down from his girdle--a very rare sight to their eyes. While they were watching theforeigners defile past them, the leader stopped and turned to Haimet,who was a little in advance of his sisters.
"My master," he said, "would you for the love of God tell us strangerswhere we can find lodging? We seek any honest shelter, and ask nodelicate fare. We would offend no man, and would gladly help with anyhousehold work."
Haimet hesitated, and gnawed his under lip in doubtful fashion. Flemildpressed forward.
"Master," she said, "if in truth you are content with plain fare andlodging, I think my mother would be willing to give room to one or twoof the women among you, if they would pay her by aid in household work:and methinks our next neighbour would maybe do as much. Thinkest thounot so, Haimet?--Will you follow us and see?"
"Most gladly, maiden," was the answer.
"My word, Flemild, you are in for it!" whispered Haimet. "Mother willbe right grateful to you for bringing a whole army of strangers uponher, who may be witches for all you know."
"Mother will be glad enough of a woman's arms to help her, and let herrest her own," replied Flemild decidedly; "and I am sure they look quiterespectable."
"Well, look out for storms!" said Haimet.
Flemild, who had acted on an impulse of compassionate interest, washerself a little doubtful how her action would be received at home,though she did not choose to confess it. They passed down North GateStreet (now the Corn-market), and crossing High Street, went a few yardsfurther before they readied their own street. On their right hand stoodthe cooks' shops, and afterwards the vintners', while all along on theirleft ran the dreaded Jewry, which reached from High Street to what is_now_ the chief entrance of Christ Church. The fletchers' and cutlers'stalls stood along this side of the street. Eastwards the Jewrystretched to Oriel Street, and on the south came very near the CathedralChurch of Saint Frideswide. The (now destroyed) Church of Saint Edwardstood in the midst of it.
As our friends turned into their own street, they passed a girl of someseventeen years of age--a very handsome girl, with raven hair and darkbrilliant eyes.
She smiled at Derette as she passed, and the child returned the silentsalutation, taking care to turn her head so that her sister should notsee her. A moment later they came to their own door, over which hung apanel painted with a doubtful object, which charity might accept as thewalnut tree for which it was intended. Just as this point was reached,their mother came to the door, carrying a tin basin, from which shethrew some dirty water where every body then threw it, into the gutter.
"Saint Benedict be merciful to us!" she cried, nearly dropping thebasin. "What on earth is all this ado? And the children here in themidst of it! Holy Virgin, help us! There is nothing but trouble for apoor woman in this world. And me as good as a widow, and worse, too.Haimet! Flemild! whatever are you about?"
"Mother," said Flemild in politic wise, "I have brought you some help.These good women here seek lodging for the night--any decent kind willserve them--and they offer to pay for it in work. It will be such arest for you, Mother, if you will take in one or two; and don't youthink Franna would do the same, and old Turguia be glad of the chance?"
Isel stood with the basin in her hand, and a look half vexed, halfamused, upon her face.
"Well! what is to be will be," she said at last. "I suppose you'vearranged it all. It'll be grand rest to have every thing smashed in thehouse. Come in, friends, as many of you as like. Those that can't findstraw to lie on can sit on a budget. Blessed saints, the shiftlessnessof girls!"
And with a tone of voice which seemed to be the deeper depth belowdespair itself, Isel led the way into the house.
Derette had fallen a little back, entranced by a sight which alwaysattracted her. She loved any thing that she could pet, whether a babyor a kitten; and had once, to the horror of her mother's housekeepingsoul, been discovered offering friendly advances to a whole family ofmice. In the arms of the woman who immediately followed the leader, laywhat seemed to Derette's eyes a particularly fascinating baby. She nowedged her way to her mother's side, with an imploring whisper of"There's a baby, Mother!"
"There's three, child. I counted them," was the grim reply.
"But, Mother, there's one particular baby--"
"Then you'd better go and fetch it, before you lose it," said Isel inthe same tone.
Derette, who took the suggestion literally, ran out, and with manysmiles and encouraging nods, led in the baby and its mother, with ayoung girl of about eighteen years, who came after them, and seemed tobelong to them.
"I suppose I shall have to go with you, at any rate through thisstreet," said Haimet, returning after he had set down the bucket. "Ourfolks here won't understand much of that lingo of yours. Come along."
The tone was less rough than the words--it usually was with Haimet,--andthe little company followed him down the street, very ready to acceptthe least attempt at kindness.
"Well, this is a queer fix as ever I saw!" muttered Isel, as she cleanedher fish ready for boiling. "It's true enough what my grandmother usedto say--you never know, when you first open your eyes of a morning, whatthey'll light on afore you shut them at night. If one could talk tothese outlandish folks, there'd be more sense in it. Flemild, I wonderif they've come across your father."
"O Mother, couldn't we ask them?"
"How, child? If I say, `Have you seen aught of an Englishman calledManning Brown?' as like as not they'll think I'm saying, `Come and eatthis pie.'"
Flemild laughed. "That first man talks," she said.
"Ay, and he's gone with the lot. Just my luck!--always was. My fatherwas sure to be killed in the wars, and my husband was safe to take itinto his head to go and fight the Saracens, instead of stopping at homelike a decent fellow to help his wife and bring up his children the waythey should go. Well!--it can't be helped, I suppose."
"Why did Father go to fight the Saracens?" demanded Derette, looking upfrom the baby.
"Don't you know, Derette? It is to rescue our Lord's sepulchre," saidFlemild.
"Does He want it?" replied Derette.
Flemild did not know how to answer. "It is a holy place, and ought notto be left in the hands of wicked people."
"Are Saracens wicked people?"
"Yes, of course--as bad as Jews. They are a sort of Jews, I believe; atany rate, they worship idols, and weave wicked spells." [Note 3.]
"Is all the world full of wicked people?"
"Pretty nigh, child!" said her mother, with a sigh. "The saints knowthat well enough."
"I wonder if the saints do know," answered Derette meditatively, rockingthe baby in her arms. "I should have thought they'd come and mendthings, if they did. Why don't they, Mother?"
"Bless you, child! The saints know their own business best. Come hereand watch this pan whilst I make the sauce."
The supper was ready, and was just about to be dished up, when Haimetentered, accompanied by the leader of the foreigners, to the evidentdelight of the guests.
"Only just in time," murmured Isel. "However, it is as well you'vebrought somebody to speak to. Where's all the rest of them folks?"
"Got them all housed at last," said Haimet, flinging his hat into acorner. "Most in the town granary, but several down this street. OldTurguia took two women, and Franna a man and wife: and what think you?--if old Benefei did not come forth and offer to take in some."
"Did they go with him?"
"As easy in their minds, so far as looks went, as if it had been my Lordhimself. Didn't seem to care half a straw."
"Sweet Saint Frideswide! I do hope they aren't witches themselves,"whispered Isel in some perturbation.
To open one's house for the reception of passing strangers was not anunusual thing in that day; but the danger of befriending--and yet moreof offending--those who were in league with the Evil One, was anever-present fear to the minds of men and women in the twelfth century.
The leader overheard the whisper.
"Good friends," he said, addressing Isel, "suffer me to set your mindsat rest with a word of explanation. We are strangers, mostly ofTeutonic race, that have come over to this land on a mission of good andmercy. Indeed we are not witches, Jews, Saracens, nor any evil thing:only poor harmless peasants that will work for our bread and molest noman, if we may be suffered to abide in your good country for thispurpose. This is my wife--" he laid his hand on the shoulder of thebaby's mother--"her name is Agnes, and she will soon learn your tongue.This is my young sister, whose name is Ermine; and my infant son iscalled Rudolph. Mine own name is Gerhardt, at your service. I am aweaver by trade, and shall be pleased to exercise my craft in yourbehalf, thus to return the kindness you have shown us."
"Well, I want some new clothes ill enough, the saints know," said Iselin answer; "and if you behave decent, and work well, and that, I don'tsay as I might be altogether sorry for having taken you in. It's right,I suppose, to help folks in trouble--though it's little enough help Iever get that way, saints knows!--and I hope them that's above 'll bearit in mind when things come to be reckoned up like."
That was Isel's religion. It is the practical religion of a sadly largenumber of people in this professedly Christian land.
Agnes turned and spoke a few words in a low voice to her husband, whosmiled in answer.
"My wife wishes me to thank you," he said, "in her name and that of mysister, for your goodness in taking us strangers so generously into yourhome. She says that she can work hard, and will gladly do so, if, untilshe can speak your tongue, you will call her attention, and do for amoment what you wish her to do. Ermine says the same."
"Well, that's fair-spoken enough, I can't deny," responded Isel; "andI'm not like to say I shan't be glad of a rest. There's nought but hardwork in this world, without it's hard words: and which is the uglier ofthem I can't say. It'll be done one of these days, I reckon."
"And then, friend?" asked Gerhardt quietly.
"Well, if you know the answer to that, you know more than I do," saidIsel, dishing up her salt fish. "Dear saints, where ever is that boyRomund? Draw up the form, Haimet, and let us have our supper. Saygrace, boy."
Haimet obeyed, by the short and easy process of making a large crossover the table, and muttering a few unintelligible words, which shouldhave been a Latin formula. The first surprise received from the foreignguests came now. Instead of sitting down to supper, the trio knelt andprayed in silence for some minutes, ere they rose and joined their hostsat the table. Then Gerhardt spoke aloud.
"God, who blessed the five barley loaves and the two fishes before Hisdisciples in the wilderness, bless this table and that which is set onit, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."
"Oh, you do say your prayers!" remarked Isel in a tone of satisfaction,as the guests began their supper. "But I confess I'd sooner say minewhile the fish isn't getting cold."
"We do, indeed," answered Gerhardt gravely.
"Oh, by the way, tell me if you've ever come across an English travellercalled Manning Brown? My husband took the cross, getting on for threeyears now, and I've never heard another word about him since. Thoughtyou might have chanced on him somewhere or other."
"Whither went he, and which way did he take?"
"Bless you, I don't know! He went to foreign parts: and foreign partsare all one to me."
Gerhardt looked rather amused.
"We come from Almayne," he said; "some of us in past years dwelt inProvence, Toulouse, and Gascony."
"Don't tell me!" said Isel, holding up her hands. "It's all so muchgibberish. Have you met with my man?--that's all I want to know."
"I have not," replied Gerhardt. "I will ask my friends, and see if anyof them have done so."
Supper over, a second surprise followed. Again Gerhardt offered hisspecial blessing--"God, who has given us bodily food, grant us Hisspiritual life; and may God be with us, and we always with Him!" Thenthey once more knelt and silently prayed. Gerhardt drew his wife andsister into a corner of the house, and opening his book, read a shortportion, after which they engaged in low-toned conversa
tion.
Derette, with the baby in her arms, had drawn near the group. She wasnot at all bashful.
"I wish I could understand you," she said. "What are you talkingabout?"
Gerhardt lifted his cap before answering.
"About our blessed Lord Christ, my maiden," he said.
Derette nodded, with an air of satisfaction at the wide extent of herknowledge. "I know. He's holy Mary's Son."
"Ay, and He is our Saviour," added Flemild.
"Is He thy Saviour, little one?" asked Gerhardt.
"I don't know what you mean," was the answer.
"O Derette! you know well enough that our Lord is called the Saviour!"corrected her sister in rather a shocked tone.
"I know that, but I don't know what it means," persisted the childsturdily.
"Come, be quiet!" said her mother. "I never did see such a child forwanting to get to the bottom of things.--Well, Romund! Folks that wantsupper should come in time for it. All's done and put by now."
"I have had my supper at the Lodge," responded a tall young man oftwenty-two, who had just entered. "Who are those people?"
His mother gave the required explanation. Romund looked ratherdoubtfully at the guests. Gerhardt, seeing that this was the master ofthe house, at least under present circumstances, rose, and respectfullyraising his cap, apologised for their presence.
"What can you do?" inquired Romund shortly.
"My trade is weaving," replied Gerhardt, "but I can stack wood or cutit, put up shelves, milk cows, or attend to a garden. I shall be gladto do any thing in my power."
"You may nail up the vine over the back door," said Romund, "and I daresay my mother can find you some shelves and hooks to put up. The womencan cook and sew. You may stay for a few days, at any rate."
Gerhardt expressed his thanks, and Romund, disappearing outside the backdoor, returned with some pieces of wood and tools, which he laid down onthe form. He was trying to carve a wooden box with a pattern of oakleaves, but he had not progressed far, and his attempts were not of thefirst order. Haimet noticed Gerhardt's interested glance cast on hisbrother's work.
"Is that any thing in your line?" he asked with a smile.
"I have done a little in that way," replied Gerhardt modestly. "May Iexamine it?" he asked of Romund.
The young carver nodded, and Gerhardt took up the box.
"This is an easy pattern," he said.
"Easy, do you call it?" replied Romund. "It is the hardest I have doneyet. Those little round inside bits are so difficult to manage."
"May I try?" asked Gerhardt.
It was not very willingly that Romund gave permission, for he almostexpected the spoiling of his work: but the carving-tool had not mademore than a few cuts in the German's fingers, before Romund saw that hisguest was a master in the art. The work so laborious and difficult tohim seemed to do itself when Gerhardt took hold of it.
"Why, you are a first-class hand at it!" he cried.
Gerhardt smiled. "I have done the like before, in my own country," hesaid.
"Will you teach me your way of working?" asked Romund eagerly. "I neverhad any body to teach me. I should be as glad as could be to learn ofone that really knew."
"Gladly," said Gerhardt. "It will give me pleasure to do any thing forthe friends who have been so kind to me."
"Derette, it is your bedtime," came from the other corner--not by anymeans to Derette's gratification. "Give the baby to its mother, and beoff."
Very unwillingly Derette obeyed: but Gerhardt, looking up, requestedIsel's permission for his wife and sister to retire with the child.They had had a long journey that day, and were quite worn out. Iselreadily assented, and Derette with great satisfaction saw them accompanyher up the ladder.
The houses of the common people at that time were extremely poor. Thisfamily were small gentlefolks after a fashion, and looked down upon thetradesmen by whom they were surrounded as greatly their inferiors: yetthey dwelt in two rooms, one above the other, with a ladder as the onlymeans of communication. Their best bed, on which Isel and Flemildslept, was a rough wooden box filled with straw, on the top of whichwere a bed and a mattress, covered by coarse quilts and a rug ofrabbit-skin. Derette and the boys lay on sacks filled with chaff, withwoollen rugs over them.
The baby was already asleep, and Agnes laid it gently on one of thewoollen rugs, while she and Ermine, to Derette's amazement, knelt andprayed for some time. Derette herself took scarcely five minutes to herprayers. Why should she require more, when her notion of prayer was notto make request for what she wanted to One who could give it to her, butto gabble over one Creed, six Paternosters, and the doxology, with asmuch rapidity as she could persuade her lips to utter the words? Then,in another five minutes, after a few rapid motions, Derette drew thewoollen rug over her, and very quickly knew nothing more, for that nightat least.
The city of Oxford, as then inhabited, was considerably smaller than itis now. The walls ran, roughly speaking, on the north, from the Castleto Holywell Street, on the east a little lower than the end of MertonStreet, thence on the south to the other side of the Castle. Beyond thewalls the houses extended northwards somewhat further than to BeaumontStreet, and southwards about half-way to Friar Bacon's Tower. Theoldest church in the city is Saint Peter's in the East, which wasoriginally built in the reign of Alfred; the University sermons used tobe delivered in the stone pulpit of this church.
There was a royal palace in Oxford, built by Henry First, who styled itle Beau Mont; it stood in Stockwell Street, nearly on the site of thepresent workhouse. It had not been visited by royalty since 1157, whena baby was born in it, destined to become a mighty man of valour, and tobe known to all ages as King Richard Coeur-de-Lion. In 1317 King EdwardSecond bestowed it on the White Friars, and all that now remains of itis a small portion of the wall built into the workhouse.
The really great man of the city was the Earl of Oxford, at that timeAubrey de Vere, the first holder of the title. He had been married to alady who was a near relative of King Stephen, but his second and presentCountess, though of good family, came from a lower grade.
Modern ideas of a castle are often inaccurate. It was not always asingle fortified mansion, but consisted quite as frequently of anembattled wall surrounding several houses, and usually including achurch. The Castle of Oxford was of the latter type, the Church ofSaint George being on its western side. The keep of a castle wasoccupied by the garrison, though it generally contained two or threespecial chambers for the use of the owner, should necessity oblige himand his family to take refuge there in a last extremity. The entrancewas dexterously contrived, particularly when the fortress consisted of asingle house, to present as much difficulty as possible to a besieger.It was always at some height in the wall, and was reached by a winding,or rather rambling, stairway leading from the drawbridge, and oftenrunning round a considerable part of the wall. One or more gates in thecourse of this stair could be closed at pleasure. A large and imposingportal admitted the visitor to a small tower occupied by the guards,through which the real entrance was approached. This stood in thethickness of the outer wall, and was protected by another pair of gatesand a portcullis, just inside which was the porter's lodge. On theground-floor the soldiers were lodged; on the midmost were the state andfamily apartments, while the uppermost accommodated the householdservants and attendants. A special tower was usually reserved for theladies of the family, and was often accompanied by a tiny garden. Inthe partition wall a well was dug, which could be reached on everyfloor; and below the vestibule was a dungeon. The great banqueting-hallwas the general sitting-room to which every one in the castle hadaccess; and here it was common for family, servants, and guard to taketogether their two principal meals--dinner at nine a.m., supper at fouror five o'clock. The only distinction observed was that the board andtrestles for the family and guests were set up on the dais, for thehousehold and garrison below. The tables were arranged in the form of ahorse-s
hoe, the diners sitting on the outer or larger side, while theservants waited on the inner. The ladies had, beside this, their ownprivate sitting-room, always attached to the bedchamber, and known asthe "bower," to which strangers were rarely admitted. Here they sat andsang, gossiped, and worked their endless embroidery. The days werescarcely yet over when English needlework bore the palm in Europe andeven in the East, while the first illuminators were the monks ofIreland. Ladies were the spinners, weavers, surgeons, and readers ofthe day; they were great at interpreting dreams, and dearly lovedflowers. The gentlemen looked upon reading as an occupation quite aseffeminate as sewing, war and hunting being the two main employments ofthe lords of creation, and gambling the chief amusement. Priests andmonks were the exceptions to this rule, until Henry First introduced ataste for somewhat more liberal education. Even more respectful toletters was his grandson Henry Second, who had a fancy for resemblinghis grandfather in every thing; yet he allowed the education of his sonsto be thoroughly neglected.
The popular idea that the University of Oxford is older than King Alfredis scarcely borne out by modern research. That there was some kind ofschool there in Alfred's day is certain: but nothing like a universityarose before the time of Henry First, and the impetus which founded itcame from outside. A Frenchman with a Scotch education, and a JewishRabbi, are the two men to whom more than any others must be traced theexistence of the University of Oxford.
Theodore d'Etampes, a secular priest, and apparently a chaplain of QueenMargaret of Scotland, arrived at Oxford about the year 1116, where hetaught classes of scholars from sixty to a hundred in number. But everything which we call science came there with the Jews, who settled underthe shadow of Saint Frideswide shortly after the Conquest. Hebrew,astronomy, astrology, geometry, and mathematics, were taught by them, attheir hostels of Lombard Hall, Moses Hall, and Jacob Hall; while law,theology, and the "humanities," engaged the attention of the Christianlecturers. Cardinal Pullus, Robert de Cricklade, and the Lombard juristVacario, each in his turn made Oxford famous, until King Stephen closedthe mouth of "the Master" of civil law, and burned at once the law-booksand the Jews. Henry Second revived and protected the schools, in thechurchyard outside the west door of Saint Mary's Church; the scriveners,binders, illuminators, and parchmenters, occupying Schools Street, whichran thence towards the city wall.
The special glory of Oxford, at that time, was not the University, butthe shrine of Saint Frideswide. This had existed from the eighthcentury, when the royal maiden whom it celebrated, after declining tofulfil a contract of matrimony which her father had made for her (as shewas much too holy to be married), had added insult to injury bymiraculously inflicting blindness on her disappointed lover when heattempted to pursue her. She had, however, the grace to restore hissight on due apologies being made. Becoming Prioress of the conventwhich she founded, she died therein on October 14th, 740, which day wasafterwards held as a gaudy day. Possibly because her indignant loverwas a king, it was held ominous for any monarch to enter the Chapel ofSaint Frideswide in her convent church. King John, who was assuperstitious on some points as he was profane on others, never dared topass the threshold.
His father, being gifted with more common sense, was present at thetranslation of the saint in 1180. The bones of Saint Frideswide stillsleep in Christ Church; but at the Reformation they were purposelymingled with those of Katherine Vermilia, wife of Peter Martyr, and onthe grave where the two were interred was carved the inscription, "Herelieth Religion with Superstition." Of course the object of this was toprevent any further worship of the relics, as it would be impossible todiscern the bones of the saint from those of the heretic. It is notimprobable that both were good women according to their light; but thesaint was assuredly far the less enlightened. To common sense, apartfrom tradition and sentiment, it is difficult to understand why acertain group of persons, who lived in an age when education was verylimited, superstition and prejudice very rife, spirituality almostdormant, and a taste for childish follies and useless hair-splitting thecommonest things in literature, should be singled out for specialreverence as "saints," or under the honourable name of "the Fathers," bedeemed higher authorities in respect to the interpretation of Holy Writthan the far more intelligent and often far more spiritual writers oflater date. If this curious hero-worship were confined to thegeneration immediately following the Apostles, it would be a little moreintelligible; as such men might possibly have derived some of theirideas from apostolic oral teaching. But to those who know the historyof the early ages of Christianity, and are not blinded by prejudice, itis simply amazing that the authority of such men as Basil, Cyprian, andJerome, should be held to override that of the spiritual giants of thePuritan era, and of those who have deeply and reverently studiedScripture in our own times. To appeal to the views held by such men asdecisive of the burning questions of the day, is like referring mattersof grave import to the judgment of little children, instead ofconsulting men of ripe experience. We know what followed a similarblunder on the part of King Rehoboam. Yet how often is it repeated! Itwould seem that not only is "no prophet accepted in his own country,"but also in his own day.
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Note 1. Saint Martin's Well stood in the junction of the "four-ways"from which Carfax takes its name.
Note 2. Penniless Bench, which ran along the east end of Carfax Church,was the original of all "penniless benches." It was not always occupiedby idle vagrants, for sometimes the scholars of the University used tocongregate there, as well as the Corporation of the city.
Note 3. All Christians believed this at that date.
