Mr. Vanderbyl, and passing on along grassy banks, spangled with rock
cistus, I came to a pool at the commencement of Crawley. The village
runs up a hill, at the top of which is the church adjacent to the
beautiful grounds of Crawley Court (Lord Kinnaird). The church is
reached through an avenue of limes: it contains some small Norman
pillars, a brass recording diffusely the virtues of a rector named
Reniger, who died in 1606, and a chest which once performed the double
service of strongbox and communion table.
From this point I returned to the pool, and taking the road to the
right came in about two miles to the woods of Lainston on the right,
and a double avenue of limes opposite the lodge of Mr. Vanderbyl. A
mile farther on a loftier avenue opens, at the end of which stood
Lainston House. I cannot say that I saw it clearly for the sun dazzled
me, setting directly behind it.
[Sidenote: A Maid of Honour.]
Close to the house stand the ruins of Lainston Church, picturesquely
situated in dense woods. Here one fine August morning, in 1744, the
gay Miss Chudleigh was privately married to Hervey, a naval officer,
who became third Earl of Bristol. Notwithstanding this, and her having
two children, she continued to be called “Miss Chudleigh,” and to be a
maid of honour. George II. affected to be in love with her, and even
went so far as to kiss her at a party. Twenty-five years afterwards she
contracted a bigamous marriage with Pierrepont, Duke of Kingston, which
was set aside. She was a prominent figure in Ranelagh Gardens, and her
dress seems to have harmonized with her performances. Walpole says that
on one occasion she appeared at a masquerade as Iphigenia, but “as
naked as Andromeda.”[32]
[Illustration: _Sparsholt Church._]
In this vicinity, but lying off the high road and consequently little
visited by strangers, is the scattered village of Sparsholt, with its
two inns, one shop, and post office. It was perhaps a more important
place in ancient days, for Roman relics have been found here. The
church is small; its architecture varies from transitional Norman to
Perpendicular. During the late restorations the tomb of a priest was
opened, and with him were found a chalice and paten of latten, now in
the vicar’s possession.
The village water supply is obtained from a well of unusual depth. Over
it is placed a large broad wheel, and the ropes by which the buckets
are lowered and raised are coiled round what may be called the axle.
The water drawer steps on the stairs of the wheel to raise the bucket,
and if unused to the treadmill--which no doubt these happy rustics
are--must be well tired before his efforts are crowned with success.
Down the road is a stile by which one may enter what is locally known
as the “Avenue,” a lovely piece of woodland scenery, abounding in
noble trees. Here we may pleasantly rest for a while, and listen to
the cooing of wood-pigeons or watch squirrels at their merry gambols.
Through this a path leads to the high road, along which, past Harestock
and Wyke, we reach Winchester again.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Add. MSS. 6036.
[2] Pat. Rolls, 8 Henry IV. The foundations of a church with two
monoliths in them have been discovered near St. George’s Street.
[3] Patent and Close Rolls.
[4] “Every man having a holding or garden bounding on the High Street
shall enclose the same with a sufficient pale or stone wall upon pain
of 20s.” (Edw. VI., Black Book). Thatch was forbidden in this street
in 1652.
[5] Add. MSS. 6036.
[6] He adds that there is outside the city a dry chalky down where
the air is worth sixpence a pint.
[7] It then belonged to the Mayor and Corporation, who had it
repaired.
[8] See “Historic Winchester,” by Misses Bramston and Leroy.
[9] “In castello Wincestre apud Wintoniam in thesauro.” Mr. Hubert
Hall thinks that the book was removed soon afterwards to London, but
Mr. Round is of opinion that it remained in Winchester until the last
quarter of the twelfth century. I cannot venture to decide a question
upon which such eminent authorities are at variance.
[10] In an engraving in my possession, dated 1787, part of this old
wall is seen adhering to the east end of the hall, and the entrance
is in the original place.
[11] We read of the “Hermits” and “Black” towers. Mr. Stopher informs
me that, judging by the base of the North Tower, uncovered in 1876,
“these towers were some of the finest in the kingdom, with handsome
double plinths.”
[12] Patent Rolls, 48 Henry III.
[13] Patent Rolls, 5 John.
[14] Close Rolls, 7 John. The houses in Winchester, called La Parrok,
were given to Galfro de Hanville, for keeping girfalcons by Henry
III. (6th year, Close Rolls).
[15] There are traces of round windows near the roof, which have been
walled up, and there are some iron hooks remaining, on which shutters
were hung before glass was permanently inserted.
[16] Henry V. was here, and at his funeral Arthur’s traditional
bearings, three crowns, were carried.
[17] The table had twelve legs, and it is supposed that it was made
round to avoid any invidious precedence, and that it was intended for
the feasting of the knights at a tournament. There was generally a
desire to throw some legendary glory around these “solemnities.” The
paint, except on the lines between the segments, has not been touched
since Henry VIII.’s time.
[18] Some persons think that the legends of King Arthur have been
wrongly attached to this neighbourhood through Winchester, “Gwent,”
being mistaken for the “Gwent” in Monmouthshire.
[19] Pat. Rolls, 16 Henry III. m 5. There was a hall here previously.
[20] Pat. 45 Henry III.
[21] Close Rolls, 6 Henry III.
[22] Cotton. Titus, B. ii. 242.
[23] He took her from the Nunnery of St. Mary’s, at Romsey. Rufus
went to court her, but the abbess showed him the convent garden with
the “Romsey roses,” where he saw her attired like a nun. She was
buried in this Cathedral with the inscription “called by the English
Molde the good Queen.”
[24] Henry III. threw the Winchester jury into the lowest dungeon
of the Castle because they would not find guilty thirty highwaymen,
friends of theirs, whom he condemned to be hanged.
[25] The King’s spokesman on the occasion was the celebrated
Archbishop Chicheley--originally a poor boy whom Wykeham met on the
road and patronized.
[26] See notice in “Historic Winchester,” by Misses Bramston and
Leroy.
[27] There is a ball in the Museum which fell in the Castle Hall.
[28] An interesting account of “The Civil War in and around
Winchester” has been published by the Rev. G. N. Godwin.
[29] There is in the Bodleian a book of rules to be observed by these
priests. They were to avoid going out together in large numbers so as
not to attract attention.
[30] Mr. Baigent has written an interesting little book on Wyke.
[31] Wyke, Compton, and Chilcombe were given to the monastery to
support commemorative festivals, but Littleton for the entertainment
of guests.
[32] A picture of her “in Ranelagh costume” was long hanging in the
Chelsea bunhouse.
SECOND DAY.
“God Begot” House--The High Street--Old Guildhall--Butter Cross--King
Alfred--The Penthouse--St. Maurice’s Church--The Bell and Crown--New
Guildhall--Museum--Archives--St. Mary’s Nunnery--St. John’s
Hospital--Soke Prison--St. Giles’ Hill--The Fair.
[Illustration: THE BUTTER CROSS AND PENTHOUSE.]
Next morning we started in the opposite direction--eastward down the
High Street. On the left-hand side we soon came to a curiously narrow
street or alley, running beside a large bookseller’s shop, and entering
it saw above us an immense timber-crossed gable, leaning over so as
almost to touch the opposite houses. Further down the alley--in which
the “Royal Oak” public-house, once the “Cross Keys,” is situated--we
still see above us a line of overhanging stories. We can walk round
this block, and return into the High Street by St. Peter’s Street.
[Illustration: Royal Oak Passage]
This building, on which is inscribed in large letters “God-begot
House,” is at present occupied by the two establishments of Mr.
Perkins, a draper, and Miss Pamplin, a stationer. From the house of the
former the panelling has been removed, but behind the shop is a small
room with a richly stuccoed ceiling.
Miss Pamplin showed us over her house with great courtesy. The upper
part is wainscoted with oak. The drawing-room is handsome--low, of
course--and it has many beams in the ceiling, radiating from the
centre. The walls are covered with carved panelling, the most elaborate
part, over the fireplace, exhibiting small round-headed arches with
intricate mouldings, while the opposite wall is adorned with lines
of large rosettes. The bedroom in the roof at the back shows some
curious woodwork; from it there is a good view of the back of this
old-world edifice, with its long-tiled roofs sloping inwards to a
central court.
[Sidenote: God-begot House.]
This house, which dates from 1667, is large, and let in apartments. It
stands on the site of the Church of St. Peter’s, in Macellis--that is,
in the shambles--and was surrounded by butchers’ stalls, St. Peter’s
Street having been called Fleshmonger Street. There seems to have been
a house of an ecclesiastical character, called “God-begot,” adjoining
the church, and the privileges of the spot are said to have been
originally granted by Queen Emma, the mother of Edward the Confessor,
to the Priory of St. Swithun. It was a sanctuary--a place of refuge for
the guilty--and many conflicts arose about it between the civil and
ecclesiastical authorities, sometimes men being forcibly dragged out of
it. Strange to say, it was also a manor. A record was kept here; courts
were held, and judgments delivered.
On the opposite side of the street is the old Guildhall, in front of
which a large clock is held out over the street by an arm of old carved
wood.
[Illustration: The Old Guildhall.]
“Why it looks as if it might fall on one’s head,” said Miss Hertford.
“If you have any fear of that,” I replied, “be assured there is
nothing in it; the case is empty, the works being in the curfew tower
above.”
“What is the meaning of the three swords over it?” inquired Miss
Hertford. “They remind me of a conjuring trick.”
“They represent the arms of Paulet, Marquess of Winchester,” I replied;
“to whom the small fee farm-rent of the city, once belonging to the
Crown, is still paid. The most remarkable thing about this clock is
that it is very troublesome, as like other old timepieces, it requires
to be wound up every day.”
The old Guildhall was behind the figure of Queen Anne on the first
floor, the ground floor belonging to St. John’s Hospital. This division
preserved the fine oak staircase to the hall, which necessarily led up
from a side street. We went up these stairs, and Miss Hertford observed
they were in a very dirty condition, but, as our guide said they were
used every day for winding and lighting the clock, and ringing the bell
in the curfew tower,[33] we were not much surprised. The panelling
in the old Guildhall has been removed to the new one. No mayor and
aldermen now sit here in state, but there are plenty of gowns, robes,
and collars, for the hall has been formed into the show-rooms of Mr.
King’s drapery establishment.
[Sidenote: The Butter Cross.]
The next object that claims our attention is the Butter Cross. It dates
from the reign of Henry VI., when a fraternity employed themselves in
erecting such structures. If we recall past times we shall picture
to ourselves here a motley crowd of market people intermixed with
brethren of the cord and gown, and shall hear much noisy bargaining
going forward. Later on, about 1650, we find a more stately gathering.
The guild of merchants were to meet the Mayor every Sunday here to
accompany him to church. This would seem to have been a compulsory,
rather than a voluntary, meeting, and about seventy years earlier we
find people imprisoned for not attending “sermonds.”
“It is to be regretted that this disinclination continues,” said Miss
Hertford, “but those who frequent the afternoon services at cathedrals,
cannot fail to observe the desire there is to hear the anthem and avoid
the discourse.”
In a sketch of this Cross, made in the year 1770,[34] we find the
upper niches vacant. The only ancient figure is that of St. Laurence,
who holds what appears to be a sword, but is in reality intended for
a palm branch. This Cross was sold by the City Corporation to Mr.
Dummer, in the middle of the last century, and was in danger of being
removed (as the Bristol Cross actually was); but the good people of
Winchester rose indignantly when they heard of the intended sacrilege,
forcibly drove away the men engaged to do the objectionable work.
Under the passage which leads from the Cross to the “Square” is the
door to St. Lawrence’s Church, a building curiously inserted among
houses. It reminds us of the way in which Winchester was in olden
times honey-combed with churches and chapels. This is considered to
be the mother church of Winchester, the bishop is inducted here, and
goes into the tower to ring the bell. Most of the present edifice is
modern, but the tower and east window are of the fifteenth century.
Opposite the entrance to this church is a piece of Norman stone-work
with some ornamental carving upon it--the only specimen of the domestic
architecture of that date in Winchester--perhaps a part of the palace
built here by William the Conqueror, which extended up this side of
the High Street,[35] and across to Minster Street and Lane. The
foundations of an ancient tower of “prodigious strength” were found at
the beginning of the present century by a workman digging in Market
Street.
We are now close to the “Square” where the Saxon palace probably stood.
[Sidenote: The Name of England.]
The Saxon period was in one respect the most remarkable in Winchester,
for the city was then the capital of Wessex, and Wessex became the
mother of England. We read in the old chroniclers that Egbert was
crowned in Winchester Cathedral the first King of England, and that at
a Witenagemot or parliament, held by him here in the year 800, it was
determined that the name of England should supersede that of Britain.
Egbert was the first who united the kingdoms of the heptarchy, and the
probability that he changed the name is increased by the fact that
“Anglia,” which is nowhere found in any document anterior to this time,
begins to appear immediately afterwards.[36]
[Sidenote: Alfred the Great.]
But the principal figure that the Saxon palace at Winchester brings
before us, is that of Alfred. He deserved the title of Great better
than many who obtained it, for he was not only victorious in battle,
but was essentially a scholar--indeed his successes were mainly the
result of his study and industry. A shade of melancholy seems always
to have hung over his mind, perhaps due to his constant physical
suffering, though he writes:--
“To those who eat
Honeycomb it seems more sweet,
If a man before the tear
Of honey, taste of bitter cheer.”
In the following lines there is a touch of sadness worthy of the author
of Ecclesiastes:--
“Why did your songs to me,
World-loving men,
Say joy belongs to me
Ever as then?
Why did ye lyingly
Think such a thing,
Seeing how flyingly
Wealth may take wing?”
Many are accustomed to speak despondingly of the degeneracy of the
nineteenth century, but it sounds strange to hear Alfred condemning the
luxury of his time, which we generally regard as semi-civilized. He
looks back regretfully to the good old days:--
“When through all the world there were
No great halls of costly care,
No rich feasts of meat and drink
Neither did they heed or think
Of such jewels then unknown
As our lordlings long to own.
Nor did seamen e’er behold
Nor had heard of gems or gold.”
We may picture Alfred living in his palace here, surrounded by this
rude magnificence, but with a mind far above its allurements. His life
corroborated the saying that religion is best for both worlds. Perhaps
his devotional tendencies came from his father, who had been a monk.
He ever consorted with learned men, and made great improvements, among
others rendering his fleet more efficient. There was great joy in
Winchester in 899 when, after a sea fight between the Saxons and Danes,
two of the marauders’ ships were captured, and the crews brought here
to the King, and hanged on the gallows.
A copy of an ancient charter giving property to the church of Evesham
is interesting, as it shows Rufus here in 1100, surrounded by the
bishops of London, Lincoln, and Durham, the abbots of Westminster and
St. Albans, the Chancellor, and many other barons of the whole of
England, at the solemn feast of Easter.[37] It was from this that
Rufus started on his unfortunate expedition into the New Forest.
It is supposed that somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Conqueror’s
palace were the mint and treasury. It is said that the six mints
established by Athelstan were under the site of the Penthouse.[38] As I
had heard of some vaults remaining which I could not find, I went into
one of the shops there to inquire.
“Well, sir,” replied the owner, “I have some doubts whether there ever
was any mint here; but,” he added, with a comical expression, “I am
quite certain there is none now.”
The site of the “Penthouse” was originally occupied by the “Draperie.”
Trade guilds existed here from Henry I.’s time, and this became the
Guildhall. Henry III. ordered that this Draperie Street should be the
“Great Street,” as in the time of his father. In Henry VIII.’s reign we
find the Penthouse mentioned as the “Pentisse.”
“Such shelters were very welcome a hundred years ago,” said Mr.
Hertford, “before umbrellas were used. You know that some have thought
that in ‘under the rose,’ the word should be ‘rows.’”
[Sidenote: Murder by a Priest.]
“Close to this,” I continued, “beside the wall of St. Lawrence’s
Church, a murder took place, in the twenty-first year of Richard II.,
which brings before us the lawless state of the times. One James
Dyngeley, a priest, struck a man named Walter Pynchon, through the back
to the heart with a baslard. This weapon was a large dagger suspended
to the girdle, and worn by laymen and by some priests, notwithstanding
an ecclesiastical prohibition. Roger, the parson of St. Lawrence,
claimed the prisoner (as an ecclesiastic) for the Bishop of Winchester,
and he was incarcerated in Wolvesey Castle. From this he broke out with
others on the 5th of December, in the fifth year of Henry IV., but
was pardoned by the King for this and other felonies--a proof of the
influence of the Church in those days.”[39]
The next church we come to is St. Maurice’s, which is modern, the
fifteenth-century tower has a good Norman doorway looking towards the
Cathedral. There are some old registers belonging to this church which
record the burials of men killed in the Soke (across the bridge),
fighting with the Roundheads in the days of Cromwell. There is a
monument here in which the admirers of William Widmore have made him
ridiculous for ever, by calling him “a friend without guile, and an
apothecary without ostentation;” the less excusable, as they say he was
“an honest Englishman.”
Opposite this church is a passage leading to the “Bell and Crown.” A
hostel of that name has stood here ever since Henry V.’s reign. The
building now on the spot is old, and has been evidently much altered.
The wall of the staircase is spotted over with a small blue pattern.
“I thought there was a paper on the wall,” said the landlord, “and was
going to have another put over it; but a gentleman said to me, ‘Do no
such thing. Why, that is stencilled! there is not another house in
Winchester can show such decoration.’”
Stencilling was much used in the last century.
“I have heard,” said Mr. Hertford, “that the celebrated Miss Mellon
(Duchess of St. Albans) went about when young with her father and a
company of actors who, as occasion offered, acted plays and stencilled
rooms.”
The work is performed by placing against the wall a thin piece of metal
on which a pattern has been cut, and then brushing paint over it. This
ornamentation is interesting, as showing the transition from frescoes
and panelling to paper-hangings.
The passage in front of the “Bell and Crown” was formerly a
large archway, on the eastern side of which there was a hall for
entertainments.
[Illustration: The Guildhall.]
The new Guildhall is a handsome and conspicuous modern building, and
stands on the site of the old Globe Hotel. Adjoining it is the Free
Library--one of the first established in England. There are some old
pictures in the Council Chamber, especially one of Charles II., by Sir
P. Lely, given by that monarch to the Corporation. There is also one
of the first Marquess of Winchester--a piece of painted board which
may teach some worldly wisdom. William Paulet was made a peer by Henry
VIII., a marquess by Edward VI., and was High Treasurer under Mary and
Elizabeth. How did he accomplish all this? “By being a willow, not an
oak.”[40]
[Sidenote: Museum.]
I mounted the staircase to visit the Museum, which is at the top
of the building. The greater part of the treasures it contains are
“prehistoric,” and lent by Lord Northesk during his life. There is here
one of the finest collections in existence of stone axes and arrow
heads, and specimens from barbarous countries of our own day, showing
how they were hafted and fastened with sinews or matting.
But I felt more interested in the local antiquities. Here is a Roman
pavement, found at the corner of Minster Lane, about a hundred yards
in front of the west gate of the Cathedral. It is only a segment,
and the preservation of it cost £300, which may account for other
remains of this kind being allowed to perish. The depth at which it
was found was ten feet, so that we may conclude it was laid down soon
after the Romans arrived, unless some accidental circumstances led
to accumulations over it. The specimens of Roman pottery show us the
extent of their town here, for some pieces were found in Water Lane,
just over the eastern bridge, while others were dug up in Hyde Street,
on the extreme north-west of the city.
Opposite these remains we find a brave row of weights and
measures--standard measures for England were first introduced by Edgar
at Winchester. Some good citizens maintain with pardonable vanity
that one of Edgar’s measuring vessels is still here, but that is not
the case. I hoped to be able to hang a story on one of the pegs that
good king had put in the Saxon cups; but no material proof of his
precautions to prevent tippling or cheating remains. The existing
measures date from Henry VII. There is his bushel--a great bronze
basin, bearing his name, with an emblematic Lancastrian rose. At the
one extremity of a yard measure I found the letter H, at the other E,
which I attributed to Henry and Elizabeth of York, who were certainly
at opposite ends of the stick, but I was informed that E stood for the
Tudor Elizabeth.
[Sidenote: Archives.]
In glass frames are displayed some of the archives of the city. Here
is a photo of Henry II.’s charter “civibus meis Wint.,” 1160; it has
been said that there was an earlier one. The terms are general, and the
contractions numerous and puzzling to the uninitiated--the whole being
comprised in a piece of vellum not six inches square. The writing,
which was clear in those days, contrasts here with some spidery
cacography of later age.
This charter raised the Mayor of Winchester above all other civic
officials in England. But at Richard I.’s coronation a dispute arose
between the mayors of London and Winchester as to which should be
Butler, and which Clerk of the Kitchen--the former being the higher
office. The decision was in favour of London, but in compensation the
King gave Winchester a very liberal charter.
In a list of ancient usages of Winchester, which existed earlier
than the thirteenth century, when this document recording them was
written, we find ordinances about various trades--the “bakere” and the
“brewstere of myste” are specially mentioned.