the only one which moved him, and he said, referring to it, that Coke
was a base slave. “Humble, but not prostrate,” he answered for himself;
“showing love of life rather than fear of death.” The charges against
him were on the authority of only one man, his former friend, Lord
Cobham. Raleigh quoted Scripture, that “in the mouth of two or three
witnesses shall every word be established,” and demanded that Cobham
should be brought face to face with him. This was refused. He said that
in the Tower he got a poor fellow to throw up an apple with a letter
tied to it to Cobham, who said, in reply, that he had wronged him. But
all was of no avail, and Popham condemned Raleigh to be hanged till
half dead, and then cut down, quartered, and disembowelled. He left
the court without showing any signs of dismay. This account is the
more interesting and valuable, as it comes from the pen of Sir Thomas
Overbury, an estimable man, poisoned by Carr, who afterwards married
his wife.
Raleigh, though he remained afterwards thirteen years in the Tower,
until his unfortunate and dishonest expedition, was finally executed
under this sentence passed at Winchester.
[Sidenote: Wolvesey.]
All is now peaceful enough at Wolvesey. Time has gnawed the walls, the
Roundheads destroyed the defences, and Bishop Morley peeled the whole
to erect the new palace which now stands beside these sad remains.
The string courses in the walls seem to be a continuation of Roman
architecture, and we observe two good Norman windows and a couple of
imperfect arches; the outside of the keep can still be recognized and
the refectory. But nearly all the interior is in a confused state of
disintegration, and the man who can call the ruins picturesque must
have a happy imagination. Morley’s palace, now used for school classes,
is uninteresting; so is the chapel, though, as a builder who had to
repair the roof assured me, the wood there, the east window and south
wall existed in the days of the castle.
[Illustration: The Tower of the College Chapel from the Itchen.]
Leaving Wolvesey, we continued by the line of the city wall, and marked
in places the insertion of Roman tiles. There is little here to recall
the conflicts of men, but much, in the dark fruit-laden boughs, to
make us reflect on the generosity of nature and on piping times, when
every man can sit happily beneath his own vine and fig-tree. And now
we continue our walk by the smooth river and by cottage gardens bright
with everlastings and “gipsy roses” (scabious), till we find ourselves
again on the site of the Eastgate from which we started.
FOOTNOTES:
[46] Called of Winchester from having been born there.
[47] These town ditches were let to different parties, the grass
being of some value. In the Black Book we find, in Henry IV.’s reign,
a grant by the Mayor of Winchester, giving to the Abbot and Convent
of the Church of St. Barnabas, of Hyde, a certain part of a ditch
called Walldych, extending from the Northern Bridge to a certain
place called the Bowe, where flows Kyngesbroke. The convent to resign
all claim to the fishing in the ditch, and give free ingress to a
certain part at the end of the bridge called Northbrigge, for nets
and all instruments for cleaning.
[48] In the Pat. Rolls, 43 Ed. III., there is an order for towers and
walls to be repaired.
[49] Near this, at the commencement of the Andover Road, a Roman coin
of the year 340 was found at a depth of sixteen feet. The staple
grounds were within the walls here.
[50] The monks of St. Swithun had “Viridaria” or pleasure grounds
outside the precincts.
[51] Founded by the brethren of St. Swithun’s for fifteen nursing
sisters.
[52] Wykeham seems to have had a peculiar reverence for St. Thomas
à Becket. The election of scholars into New College and Winchester
School was to take place every year between the festival of the
Translation of St. Thomas à Becket (July 7), and the 1st of October.
[53] There are here also three Anglo-Saxon charters, and in the
Audit-room some fifteenth-century tapestries and the coats of mail
worn by the warden’s escort.
[54] His father’s name was John Longe, perhaps from his stature.
[55] Does this similarity account for the proverbial good luck of the
horse shoe?
[56] That is, Richmond, where Wykeham improved the palace.
[57] When Henry VI. founded Eton on the plan of Winchester,
Wayneflete (the headmaster here and afterwards bishop) migrated with
five fellows to the new foundation.
[58] Wykehamists are proud of this gallant soldier who fell recently,
fighting in the Soudan, and have erected a memorial gateway in his
honour.
FOURTH DAY.
Jewry Street and the Jews--Hyde Abbey--St. Grimbald--Destruction of
Tombs--Headbourne Worthy--King’s Worthy--The Nun’s Walk.
The west side of the George Hotel is in Jewry Street, the _ghetto_, a
name recalling the wealth, rapacity, and persecutions of this peculiar
people. They managed to obtain property and to increase in this city,
apparently in the thirteenth century, previous to which this street was
called Scowertene Street. In 1232 a story was circulated that a boy had
been tortured and murdered by them.
“Invented, perhaps, by their debtors,” suggested Mr. Hertford.
In Henry III.’s reign there was an order that the Jews in Winchester
should be taxed according to their ability, as in London; but when the
barons sacked the town they are said to have extirpated them. In 1268,
however, one of them was made a member of the Merchants’ Guild here,
the only fact, as far as I know, that corroborates the statement of
Richard of Devizes, that “Winchester alone, the people being prudent,
spared its vermin.” We have seen what became of “Aaron’s land,” and
that of the “son of Abraham” did not escape confiscation, for we find
that in Edward I.’s reign--“Thomas de Palmere was granted a messuage in
the great street of Winchester, valued at four shillings a year. It had
belonged to Benedict, son of Abraham the Jew, and had been forfeited
to the King.”[59] At a Parliament, held here in 1290, the Jews were
expelled from the country.
Proceeding up the street, we pass on the right-hand side the old stable
in which “Master Say” was tortured in the time of the Civil War. A
little farther on, if we look up over the shops on the other side, we
shall plainly trace the outlines of a large building. This was once the
city gaol, built by James I., rebuilt in 1771, and the central portion
of it, where there is now an ironmonger’s shop, was the governor’s
house about twenty years since, and boasted a haunted chamber, in
which one of the debtors committed suicide. It was afterwards used for
the Museum until the Guildhall was built in 1873, and the gaol and
bridewell were removed to the Romsey Road. Farther on stands the Corn
Exchange and Cattle Market.
[Sidenote: Hyde Street.]
Crossing the City Road we went straight on into Hyde Street, which
seems like a continuation of Jewry Street. On the right Fossedyke House
commemorates the city walls and ditch. Farther on I noticed a relic
of the past--a small shop with a gable, very low rooms, and windows
scarcely more than a foot high. Two steps descended into it, a proof of
age--as either the soil outside has risen, or the owner has been, like
the Irishman, “raising his roof.” On the other side, we came to the
large malthouse of Mr. Dear, with walls of cut stone, formerly a barn
belonging to Hyde Abbey.
Opposite, we see through a side street the “Soldiers’ Home.” This
was about fifty years ago the celebrated school of Mr. Richards, at
which were Deans Garnier and Gaisford, Lord Liverpool, George Canning,
Wolfe the poet, and perhaps Disraeli who was at a boarding school in
Winchester. It was afterwards the Museum, and is now used for Salvation
meetings. The Army has been “bombarding” Winchester for some time, and
now marches through the streets with Salvation guernseys, hallelujah
bonnets, and scarves white, red, and blue, to the music of drums,
trumpets, and cymbals. All this noise and dramatic show is attractive:
whether it makes people religious I cannot say, but it promotes the
cause of teetotalism. I went one day from curiosity to a “free and
easy” at the Corn Exchange, and observed that the congregation were
mostly men. Their attention was kept by the variations in the service,
by “knee-drill,” singing on the knees, clapping the hands, and singing
with the eyes shut. The preacher, an eloquent man, said they wanted
money to build a barrack in Parchment Street, which was to be somewhat
larger than the Cathedral! (a titter.) He added that some considered
that the Salvationists could do nothing right, nothing properly.
They even thought they could not make a collection properly, and he
was almost inclined to agree with them, when he saw the miserable
contributions there were last Sunday.
[Sidenote: Hyde Abbey.]
A Roman urn was found in this street; and in turning to the right,
down Alfred Place I noticed a corner-stone of a “Druidical” character.
In a few yards, we came to the little church of St. Bartholomew, with
a Norman entrance arch, rich in zig-zag--one-third restored. Here is
a stoup, and the lancet windows in the nave are in their original
positions. Close beside the churchyard is a building with an arch,
apparently the entrance to the monastery. On either side of the arch
is a head, much decayed, but the drawn-back hair can be traced, and the
crowns of Alfred and his son Edward, it is supposed. These carvings
seem older than the arch, which is only Tudor. In the massive wall
of an adjoining garden a low window was pointed out to me, now half
hidden in the soil; and until lately there was an arch visible beside
it, which is now walled up. Passing through the gate into the farmyard
I came to the stream which rises at Headbourne Worthy, and here runs
under a very primitive arch, which has some of the old monastery wall
still remaining on it. The rivulet flows round the black fence of the
Steam Laundry into a street, called from it, Upper Brooks.
I found that the road past the monastery ended immediately, and learned
that the reason of this was that for a short time the Bridewell, for
which the ruins of Hyde Abbey were despoiled, stood till late years at
the termination.
This information I obtained from a mechanic whom we met with. I was
desirous of obtaining local information, and asked him if there were
more ruins here.
“Well, sir, I think there’s some of the old tackle up there,” he
replied, pointing in the direction of the barn.
“Do you belong to this place?” I said.
“Yes, sir,” he replied; “and for forty years I belonged to the devil.”
I stared at him, for he was a most respectable-looking man.
“Yes, sir, I did,” he continued. “But what a difference it makes to
a man when he has his eyes opened! I never used to pray. I used to
eat and drink and work, and go once a week to the organ-loft of St.
Bartholomew’s there, and have a sing, and thought that was all that was
necessary. How differently I feel now!”
“Much better, no doubt,” I returned. “Have any ancient remains been
discovered here?”
“Something less than twenty years ago a man was digging about the site
of this bridewell wherever they would let him. He was a long time at
it, but he had read books, and knew exactly where to go. He was a
strange sort of man, fond of bones and coffins, which he found and put
into the church.”
[Sidenote: King Alfred.]
Hyde Abbey, called the New Minster, previous to Norman times went on
its travels like the other Winchester institutions. It was founded by
Alfred close to the northern side of the Cathedral. He bought ground
for the chapel and dormitory, and perhaps built them, but left the
main work to be completed by his son. It was called the Monastery of
St. Grimbald. When Alfred went to Rome with St. Swithun, he stopped
for some days on his way at the convent of St. Bertin, in France, and
there sat, a lovely and studious child, at the feet of Grimbald. He
not only profited by the religious teaching, but conceived a great
affection for this gracious president, and sent for him to superintend
his new foundation. Grimbald came in 885, and the King and Archbishop
Ethred received him “as an angel.” A meeting was called, and Grimbald
made an effective speech, strongly condemning the sins of unchastity,
covetousness, lying, murder, and theft. He also spoke of pride and
gluttony, “through which our first parent was driven from his flowery
abode.” Alfred followed with a speech commending study to his nobility,
who were very illiterate at the time.
Learning was then at a low ebb in England owing to the ravages of the
Danes, and in Winchester the churches had been despoiled, the priests
murdered, the nuns outraged, and Christianity nearly abolished. Alfred
resolved to reinstate it, and Grimbald was to teach the children of the
thanes as well as to give advice about the proposed monastery.
Alfred died fifteen years after Grimbald’s arrival in England, and the
Annals tell us he was buried “becomingly, and with kingly honour in
the royal city of Winchester, in the church of St. Peter’s. His tomb
is still extant, made of the most precious porphyry marble.” Although
unwilling to say a word against the good monks of Hyde, I fear that it
must be admitted they were now guilty of a little trickery. The canons
of St. Swithun “foolishly thought they saw the disembodied spirit of
King Alfred moving about their habitation,” and I am afraid we must
conclude that some of the monks of Hyde, to obtain the valuable body of
the King, dressed themselves up as the ghost and frightened the poor
canons. Thus the corpse was transferred to the New Minster.[60]
The monastery soon obtained another melancholy acquisition. The
building was finished in 903, and, Ponthieu in Picardy having been
ravaged, the inhabitants fled, and nobles and religious people came
swarming like bees to St. Grimbald, and brought with them the bones of
the sacred confessor St. Josse--a British prince. Grimbald received
this consignment with great honour, with a brilliant retinue of clergy,
and an immense concourse of the faithful. Miracles soon appeared, and
the dry bones brought life and livelihood into the monastery. At the
dedication of the basilica to the Sacred Trinity, St. Mary, St. Peter,
and St. Paul, there was a brilliant assembly, and farms were bestowed
by the King and nobles. Queen Emma afterwards gave the head of St.
Valentine.
Grimbald, “a good singer and most learned in holy Scripture,” had a
conflict with the old scholars at Oxford, and was not well pleased at
the impartial manner in which Alfred decided it. As he became old he
withdrew himself, and lived privately in this Abbey at Winchester,
intent only upon psalms and hymns, and unwilling to speak of anything
secular.
[Sidenote: Sword and Gown.]
The New Monastery fared badly after the battle of Hastings. The Abbot
at this time was unfortunately an uncle of Harold. When he heard of
the Norman invasion he persuaded twelve stalwart brethren to take
the Saxon helmet, and, raising twenty additional men, marched to
Hastings with his little company. They took the sword in place of the
crucifix, and used it with such effect that they became conspicuous in
the conflict. The Abbot fell close to Harold. Perhaps their costume
attracted attention, they may have had gown and sword, but at any rate
William’s attention was attracted to them, and he determined to take
vengeance on an establishment whose members gave him so much trouble.
He confiscated some fifteen manors belonging to them--about 17,000
acres of land, and he built his palace in such a position as greatly
to inconvenience them, shutting up the communication by St. Lawrence’s
into the High Street.
It now became clearly recognized that the New Monastery was too much
confined, it was so close to St. Swithun’s that the ringing and singing
were “like sweet bells jangled.” The monks resolved to move outside the
city to Hyde Mead, though the ground in that locality was so springy
that they had to bring a quantity of clay, and to cover it, in some
places, four feet deep. The old site was given to St. Swithun’s, which
in return gave some land and some additional days at St. Giles’ fair.
In 1110 the fraternity moved in solemn procession, with all their
worldly goods, consisting mainly of the cross of Cnut, body of Alfred,
and some other old bones, into what promised to be a peaceful abode.
[Sidenote: Treasures of Hyde.]
But thirty years afterwards, on the occasion of the conflict between
Stephen and Matilda, the establishment was destroyed, as I have already
said, by Bishop de Blois sending fire balls at it out of Wolvesey. From
the representations now made to the Pope we learn how magnificently
adorned the church was, and how successful had been the miracles
there wrought. The flames melted the gold and silver, and the bishop
compelled the monks to give him the precious ashes, especially those of
the great cross, given by Cnut, which contained sixty pounds of silver,
and fifteen of gold, that king’s revenue for a year.
[Illustration: CNUT AND EMMA (ÆLFGYFU) PLACING THE CROSS AT HYDE.
(_From an Anglo-Saxon MS._)]
There were three diadems of gold and precious stones worth £118, two
images adorned with gold and gems, worth £49. Of silver there were many
other valuables, the seal of the house, two patens, a vase for holy
water, and two lavers, nobly adorned with gold and gems, said to be of
Solomonic work, perhaps in imitation of those in the Jewish temple,
and worth £35. De Blois had endowed his hospital of St. Cross out of
the spoil, and the whole amount of damages claimed was not less than
£4,862, which might be multiplied by twenty to form a right estimate of
it at present.
In consequence of the complaints sent to the Pope, the warlike bishop
had to make some restitution. But it was not till twenty-six years
afterwards (1167) that a goldsmith’s copy of the cross[61] was executed
and presented to the Convent. The restoration of the buildings was
gradual, and in 1312 part was still in ruins.
Hyde Abbey, though planned by St. Grimbald with such excellent
intentions, was not free from the weakness inherent in all human
institutions. There was from 1182 such a flow of miracles from the
altar of St. Barnabas there that the monastery was sometimes spoken of
as if dedicated to that saint. Crowds of poor, sick, and infirm people
congregated there, and as the place declined in morality it grew in
celebrity, so that in 1390 William of Wykeham authorized the abbot to
use a mitre, ring and pastoral staff.
In 1507 the vices attendant on wealth and luxury became so conspicuous
as to require rebuke. The good monks were making free use of the
taverns, and were bringing into the monastery women who were not of a
saintly character. The last abbot of Hyde, John Salcot, was “a great
cleark, and singularly learned in divinity.” He became Bishop of
Bangor, and then of Salisbury, and his principles were of the willow
pattern. At Windsor he tried three reformers, and condemned them to
be burnt, and burnt they were; but under Edward VI. he himself became
a reformer, and gave the Duke of Somerset several church manors. In
Mary’s reign he averred that his compliance with Edward’s wishes had
been caused by threats and from fear of his life, and sentenced Hooper
and Rogers and three others to the stake, where they were burned.
[Sidenote: Spoliation.]
Wriothesley writes in 1538, being the chief acting commissioner here:
“About three o’clock a.m., we made an end of the shrine of Winchester.
We think the silver will amount to near two thousand marks. Going to
bedsward we viewed the altar. Such a piece of work it is that we think
we shall not rid of it before Monday or Tuesday morning. Which done
we intend both at Hyde and St. Mary’s to sweep away all the rotten
bones, called relics, which we may not omit lest it should be thought
we came more for the treasure than for avoiding the abominations of
idolatry.” Wriothesley was granted several of the richest manors of
Hyde, and having a lease of the site, pulled down the abbey and sold
the materials. He made over the site to the Bethell family. The lands
he left to his children, but a failure of male descent, which no doubt
the Roman Catholics regarded as a judgment, caused the abbey manors
to be distributed to many families. Some of them went to Lady Rachel
Russell, a daughter of Thomas, Earl of Southampton. She lived much at
Stratton, where her letters were written.
In 1788 the magistrates of Hampshire bought the site of the abbey to
erect a bridewell. Dr. Milner writes: “At almost every stroke of the
mattock or spade some ancient sepulchre or other was violated, the
venerable contents of which were treated with marked indignity.” A
crozier, patens, chalices, and rings, and “fantastic capitals” were now
found, stone coffins were broken and bones scattered. Three superior
coffins were found in front of the altar, and a slab, probably the base
of a statue of Alfred, which is now at Corby Castle, in Cumberland. It
is impossible to determine what relics were then destroyed.
The bones found in 1867 lie under a stone marked simply with a cross,
beneath the east window of St. Bartholomew’s Church. They belonged
to five persons, supposed to be Alfred, his queen and two sons, and
St. Grimbald. The four first mentioned were found in a chalk vault,
at the east end of the church of Hyde Monastery. The bones of St.
Grimbald were in another chalk vault, under the chancel, near the north
transept, which extended where there is now a timber yard, on the east
side of the present church. In Milner’s time, the ruins of the church
nearly covered a meadow. St. Bartholomew’s was probably like the
church at Battle, built for the tenants and servants of the abbey.
The cut stones, with which its walls are studded, give it a chequered
or chessboard appearance, and suggest the spoliation of some earlier
building. But a portion at least, of the church existed long before
the destruction of the abbey. The alternation of squares of stone and
flintwork is an example of what was in times past a favourite device,
now known by architects as “diaper work.”
[Sidenote: Walk to Headbourne.]
Returning into Hyde Street, my friends went home; and I, walking on
towards the country, came to some pretty outskirts of Winchester. Here
are bright villas, covered with flowering rose-trees, and a thatched
cottage swathed in ivy. The road gradually becomes overshadowed on
both sides by beeches and elms, which soon give place on the left to
corn-fields, dotted over with children “gleazing,” while on the right
appears the long wall and fine plantations of Abbots Barton--an old
monastic farm.
Just before coming to Headbourne Worthy, I passed two semi-detached
cottages of red brick, with ornamental windows. These cheerful
dwellings stand on a site of dark memory. Two years ago, a hayrick
was here, under which a couple of young sailors, tramping along the
road, took refuge at night from a storm. Though in this uncomfortable
position, they managed to quarrel about money--with which neither
was well provided--and at last the discussion grew so hot that the
elder--twenty-seven years of age--pursued the younger, a boy of
eighteen round the rick, with an open knife in his hand. The latter
cried aloud, but the wind and rain prevented his being heard, except by
a dog at a neighbouring cottage, who raised his voice in vain. At last
the deed was done, and the murderer took three shillings from the body,
which he covered up with hay. He then made off, but was captured and
executed.
[Sidenote: A Winchester Scholar.]
I now descend a hill between high grassy banks, and reach Headbourne
Worthy--the stately designation only signifying a village. The church
has a somewhat modern appearance outside, but, according to some, has
Saxon portions. At the west end, we find a small Norman arch leading
into the vestry, where there is a bas-relief, almost obliterated, of
the Crucifixion and two Marys, larger than life. It is supposed that
these figures were originally on the outer wall of the church, and that
the room in which they now are, in which an upper floor and piscina
are traceable, was a chapel built round them. There is in the church
a handsome piscina and some sedilia. But the chief pride of the little
sanctuary is a brass, said to be in a certain sense unique. It dates
from 1434, and is in memory of a boy who died when one of the scholars
at “New College” in Winchester. He stands here, with closely-cut
hair and a gown fastened down the front, giving a good idea of the
appearance of the scholars of that day. A scroll proceeds out of his
mouth, with the words, “Misericordiam Dm̄ inetm̄ cantabo,” which is
supposed to mean that he will sing the school chants eternally.