THE MOUND, THE CASTLE AND SOME CHURCHES
The property of S. Frideswide's Nunnery formed one of the chief elements
in the formation of the plan of Oxford. The houses of the population
which would spring up in connection with it were probably grouped on the
slope by the northern enclosure wall of the nunnery, and were themselves
bounded on the north by the road which afterwards became the High
Street, and on the west by that which was afterwards named Southgate
Street, then Fish Street, and is now known as S. Aldate's. This road,
giving access from Wessex to Mercia, was probably one of the direct
lines from the north-west to London in the tenth century. It led down to
the old fords over the shallows which once intersected the meadows of
South Hincksey, and gave, as some suppose, its name to the town.[3] The
fords were superseded by the old Grand Pont, and Grand Pont in turn by
Folly Bridge.
Folly Bridge, as it now stands, was built a little south of Grand Pont,
the old river-course to the north having been filled up by an
embankment. The river now marks the Shire boundary which was once marked
hereabouts by the Shire Ditch. Crossing the bridge to the Berkshire
shore, the road, wherein you may still trace the piers of the old Grand
Pont "linked with many a bridge," leads up to Hincksey. There the modern
golf-links are, and the "lone, sky-pointing tree" that Clough and Arnold
loved. And this road it was which, in the poetic imagination of Matthew
Arnold, was haunted by the scholar gipsy.
The main road leads over the hill, which is crowned by Bagley Wood, to
Abingdon. That charming village, where once the great monastery stood,
was separated in early days from the city by a great oak forest.
Wandering therein, book in hand, a certain student, so the story runs,
was met by a ferocious wild boar, which he overcame by thrusting his
Aristotle down the beast's throat. The boar, having no taste for such
logic, was choked by it, and his head, borne home in triumph, was served
up, no doubt, at table in the student's hall with a sprig of rosemary in
its mouth. The custom of serving a boar's head on Christmas Day at
Queen's College, whilst the tabarder sang:
"The Boar's Head in hand bear I
Bedecked with bays and rosemary,
And I pray you masters merry be--
Quotquot estis in convivio.
Chorus--_Caput apri defero_
_Reddens laudes Domino_," _etc._,
is said to have originated in that incident.
S. Aldate's Road, after leaving the river, skirted the enclosure of S.
Frideswide, and gradually ascended the sloping gravel bank in a
northerly direction. Here it was met by another road which, coming from
the east, connected Oxford with the Wallingford district. The crossing
of these roads came to be known as the Four Ways, Quadrifurcus,
corrupted into Carfax. And Carfax was the second of the chief elements
in the formation of Oxford. For at this point, as if to mark its
importance in the history of the town, was erected S. Martin's Church,
which has always been the city church, and in the churchyard of which
Town Councils (Portmannimotes) perhaps were held. It was founded under a
Charter of Cnut (1034) by the wealthy and vigorous Abbey of Abingdon,
which, together with the foundation at Eynsham, seems to have thrown the
Monastery of S. Frideswide very much into the shade both as to energy
and influence.
[Illustration: Abingdon Abbey]
The tower, restored by Mr T. G. Jackson, is the only remaining fragment
of the old church. A modern structure was wisely removed in 1896 to
broaden the thoroughfare. Two quaint figures, which in bygone days
struck the quarters on the old church, have been restored to a
conspicuous position on the tower. Shakespeare, who on his way to
Stratford used to stop at the Crown Inn, a house then situated near the
Cross in the Cornmarket, is said to have stood sponsor in the old church
to Sir William Davenant in 1606. John Davenant, father of the poet and
landlord of the Inn, was Mayor of Oxford. His wife was a very beautiful
woman. Scandal reported that Shakespeare was more than godfather to Sir
William. But if the tower be all that remains of the original structure,
"S. Martin's at Carfax" still commands the High Street, and, serene
amidst the din of trams, of skurrying marketers and jostling
undergraduates, recalls the days when the town was yet in the infancy of
its eventful life.
The third element in the formation of the place was the Mound. Mediæval
towns usually began by clustering thickly round a stronghold, and there
is reason to believe that at the beginning of the tenth century Oxford
was provided with a fortress. In the year 912 Oxford is mentioned for
the first time in authentic history. For there is an entry in the Saxon
Chronicle to the effect that
"This year died Æthelred, ealdorman of the Mercians, and King
Edward took possession of London and Oxford and of all the lands
which owed obedience thereto."
The Danes were ravaging the country. Mercia had been over-run by them
the year before. The Chronicle for several years presents a record of
the Danes attacking various places, and either Eadward or his sister
Æthelflæd defending them and building fortresses for their defence. They
fortified, for instance, Tamworth and Warwick and Runcorn, and at each
of these places the common feature of fortification is a conical mound
of earth. Take a tram from Carfax to the railway station, and stop at
the County Courts and Gaol on your way. The County Gaol you need not
visit, or admire its absurd battlements, but within the sham façade is
the tower that remains from the Castle of Robert D'Oigli, and beside the
tower is just such a conical mound of earth--the Castle Mound.
Against raids and incursions Oxford was naturally protected on three
sides. For the Thames on the west and south and the Cherwell on the east
cut her off from the attack of land forces, whilst even against Danes
coming up the Thames from Reading, marsh lands and minor streams within
the belt of these outer waters protected her. For in those early days,
when Nature had things almost entirely her own way, there were many more
branches of the river, many minor tributary streams flowing where now
you see nothing but houses and streets. The Trill Mill stream, for
instance, which left the main stream on the west of what is now Paradise
Square, is now covered over for the greater part of its course; whilst
the main stream, after passing beneath the road some seventy yards
outside South Gate, gave off another stream running due south, parallel
with the road to Folly Bridge, but itself evidently continued its own
course across Merton Fields by the side of what is now Broad Walk, and
finally found its way into the Cherwell. And besides this stream, which
ran under S. Frideswide's enclosure, there were, on the east, the minor
streams which now enclose the Magdalen Walks. But what Oxford needed to
strengthen her was some wall or fosse along the line occupied afterwards
by the northern wall of the city, along the line, that is, of George
Street, Broad Street and Holywell, and also some _place d'armes_, some
mound, according to the fashion of the times, with accompanying ditches.
With these defences it seems probable that she was now provided. Thus
fortified Oxford becomes the chief town of Oxfordshire, the district
attached to it. And during the last terrible struggle of England with
the Danes its position on the borders of the Mercian and West-Saxon
realms seems for the moment to have given it a political importance
under Æthelred and Cnut strikingly analogous to that which it acquired
in the Great Rebellion.
After Sweyn's death Oxford was chosen as the meeting-place of the great
gemot of the kingdom. The gemots, which were now and afterwards held at
Oxford, were probably held about the Mound, where houses were erected
for the royal residence. In one of these Æthelweard, the King's son,
breathed his last; one was the scene of another dastardly murder of
Danes, when Eadric (1015) ensnared Sigeferth and Morkere into his
chamber, and there slew them. And here it was, according to Henry of
Huntingdon, that King Edmund, who had been making so gallant a struggle
against the conquering Cnut, was murdered by Eadric's son. Eadric, we
know, was a traitor, and well-skilled in murders at Oxford. He, when his
son had stabbed Edmund by his directions, came to Cnut and
[Illustration: Cornmarket Street]
"saluted him, saying, 'Hail, thou art sole king.' When he had laid
bare the deed done, the King answered, 'I will make thee on account
of thy great deserts higher than all the tall men of England.'
And he ordered him to be beheaded and his head to be fixed on a
pole on the highest tower of London. Thus perished Edmund, a brave
king."
And Cnut, the Dane, reigned in his stead. Beneath the shadow of the
Mound, built to repel the Danish incursions, the Danish King now held an
assembly of the people. At this gemot "Danes and Angles were unanimous,
at Oxford, for Eadgar's law." The old laws of the country were, then, to
be retained, and his new subjects were reconciled to the Danish King.
But these subjects, the townsmen of those days, are but dim and shadowy
beings to us. It is only by later records that we see them going on
pilgrimage to the shrines of Winchester, or chaffering in their
market-place, or judging and law-making in their husting, their
merchant-guild regulating trade, their reeve gathering his King's dues
of tax or honey, or marshalling his troop of burghers for the King's
wars, their boats floating down the Thames towards London and paying the
toll of a hundred herrings in Lent-tide to the Abbot of Abingdon by the
way. For the river was the highway, and toll was levied on it. In Edward
the Confessor's time, in return for the right of making a passage
through the mead belonging to Abingdon, it was agreed that all barges
that passed through carrying herrings during Lent should give to the
cook of that monastery a hundred of them, and that when the servant of
each barge brought them into the kitchen the cook should give him for
his pains five of them, a loaf of bread and a measure of ale. In the
seventeenth century the river had become so choked that no traffic was
possible above Maidenhead till an Act was passed for the re-opening of
it.
It was at Oxford that a great assembly of all the Witan was held to
elect Cnut's successor Harold, and at Oxford, so pernicious a place for
kings, that Harold died. At Oxford again when the Northumbrian rebels,
slaying and burning, had reached it (1065), the gemot was held which, in
renouncing Tostig, came to the decision, the direct result of which was
to leave England open to the easy conquest of William of Normandy when
he landed in the following year.
Five years later we find Robert D'Oigli in peaceful possession of
Oxford, busy building one of those Norman castles, by which William made
good his hold upon England, strongholds for his Norman friends, prisons
for rebellious Englishmen. The river he held by such fortresses as this
at Oxford, and the Castles of Wallingford and Windsor.
Oxford had submitted without resistance to the Conqueror. There is no
evidence that she suffered siege like Exeter or York, but many
historians, Freeman among them, state that she was besieged. They have
been misled by the error of a transcriber. Savile printed _Urbem
Oxoniam_, for _Exoniam_, in his edition of "William of Malmesbury," and
the mischief was done. A siege at this time has been supposed to explain
a remarkable fact which is recorded in the Domesday Survey. "In the time
of King Edward," so runs the record of Domesday Book:
"Oxeneford paid for toll and gable and all other customs yearly--to
the king twenty pounds, and six measures of honey, and to Earl
Algar ten pounds, besides his mill within the [city]. When the king
went out to war, twenty burgesses went with him in lieu of the
rest, or they gave twenty pounds to the king that all might be
free. Now Oxeneford pays sixty pounds at twenty-pence to the ounce.
_In the town itself, as well within the wall as without, there are
243 houses that pay geld, and besides these there are 478 houses
unoccupied and ruined (tam vastæ et destructæ) so that they can pay
no geld._ The king has twenty wall mansions, which were Earl
Algar's in the time of King Edward, paying both then and now
fourteen shillings less twopence; and one mansion paying sixpence,
belonging to Shipton; another paying fourpence, belonging to
Bloxham; a third paying thirty pence, belonging to Risborough; and
two others paying fourpence, belonging to Twyford in
Buckinghamshire; one of these is unoccupied. They are called wall
mansions because, if there is need and the king command it, they
shall repair the wall.... All the burgesses of Oxeneford hold in
common a pasture outside the wall that brings in six shillings and
eightpence.... If any stranger who chooses to live in Oxeneford,
and has a house, dies there without relatives, the king has all
that he leaves."
The extraordinary proportion of ruined and uninhabited houses enumerated
in this record, however, was probably due not to any siege by the
Normans and not mainly to harsh treatment at their hands, but to the
ravaging and burning of that rebellious band of Northumbrians who had
come upon Oxford "like a whirlwind" in 1065. Robert D'Oigli himself is
recorded to have had
"forty-two inhabited houses as well within as without the wall. Of
these sixteen pay geld and gable, the rest pay neither, on account
of poverty; and he has eight mansions unoccupied and thirty acres
of meadow near the wall and a mill of ten shillings. The whole is
worth three pounds and for one manor held he holds with the
benefice of S. Peter...." (sentence incomplete).
These houses belonged wholly to Holywell Manor,[4] and the mill referred
to is no doubt that known as _Holywell Mill_, supplied with water from
the Cherwell.
Thus Domesday Book gives us a glimpse of a compact little town within a
vallum, half a mile from east to west, and a quarter of a mile south to
north. We may think of the gravel promontory as covered with houses and
their gardens, and inhabited by some thousand souls.
A market-place there would have been at or near Carfax, and fairs must
have been held there, though we have no mention of them till the reign
of Henry I.
The "wall" of the enceinte, which, according to Domesday Book, the
inhabitants of the mural mansions were compelled to repair, was probably
a vallum of earth faced with stone, protected by a deep ditch in front,
and surmounted by wood-work to save the soldiers from arrows.
D'Oigli, we may presume, put the existing fortifications of the town in
order.
The fortifications, which were constructed in the reign of Henry III.,
followed in the main the line of the vallum repaired by D'Oigli. They
consisted of a curtain wall and outer ditch, protected by a parapet and
by round towers placed at regular intervals and advanced so as to
command besiegers who might approach to attack the wall. There were
staircases to the top of the towers. A good idea of them and the general
scheme of the fortifications may be obtained by a visit to the fragment
of the city wall which yet remains within the precincts of New College.
The Slype, as it is called, forms a most picturesque approach to New
College Gardens, and the old-bastioned wall forms part of the boundary
between the New College property and Holywell Street. It is indeed owing
to this fact that the wall still remains there intact, for the licence
to found a College there was granted to William of Wykeham on condition
of keeping the city wall in repair and of allowing access to the mayor
and burgesses once in three years to see that this was done, and to
defend the wall in time of war. From New College the city wall ran down
to the High Street.[5]
The East Gate Hotel, facing the new schools, marks the site of the old
entrance to the city hereabouts. It is a recent construction in
excellent taste by Mr E. P. Warren. From this point the wall ran on to
Merton, and thence to Christ Church. The south wall of the Cathedral
chapter house is on the line of the old city wall. It is said that some
of the old wall was taken down for the erection
[Illustration: The Bastion and Ramparts in New College]
of the College Hall. Along the north side of Brewer Street (Lambard's
Lane, Slaying Lane or King's Street) are here and there stones of the
city wall, if not remnants of the walling. At the extreme end of Brewer
Street the arch of Slaying Lane Well is just visible, once described as
"under the wall."
[Illustration: City Walls]
The south gate spanned S. Aldate's, close to the south-west corner of
Christ Church; Little Gate was at the end of Brewer Street, and the west
gate was in Castle Street, beyond the old Church of S. Peter-le-Bailly.
From the south gate faint traces in "The Friars" indicate its course,
and the indications are clear enough by New Inn Hall Street, Ship Inn
Yard and Bullock's Alley. Cornmarket Street was crossed by S. Michael's
Church, where stood the north gate. The gate house of the north gate was
used as the town prison. It rejoiced in the name of Bocardo, jestingly
so called from a figure in logic; for a man once committed to that form
of syllogism could not expect to extricate himself save by special
processes.
Old bastions and the line of the ditch are found behind the houses
opposite Balliol College. The site of Balliol College was then an open
space, and Broad Street was Canditch. This name was derived by Wood from
Candida Fossa, a ditch with a clear stream running along it. Wood's
etymology is not convincing. Mr Hurst has suggested a more likely
derivation in Camp Ditch. As a street name it reached from the angle of
Balliol to Smith Gate. An indication of the old fosse, filled up, is to
be found in the broad gravel walk north of the wall near New College.
From Bocardo the wall ran towards the Sheldonian Theatre. The outer line
of the passage between Exeter Chapel and the house to the north of it
was the line of the south face of the old city wall. A bastion was laid
bare in 1852 in the north quad of Exeter. The wall passed in a diagonal
line across the quadrangle south of the Clarendon Building, turned
northwards in Cat's Street, and ran up to the octagonal Chapel of Our
Lady by Smith Gate. The remains of this little chapel, with a beautiful
little "Annunciation" in a panel over the south entrance, have recently
been revealed to the passer-by by the new buildings of Hertford College,
between which and the feeble mass of the Indian Institute it seems
strangely out of place.
[Illustration: CHAPEL OF OUR LADY.]
From Smith Gate the wall returned to New College, and so completed the
circuit of the town. A reference to the map will elucidate this bare
narration of mine.
But to return to Robert D'Oigli, the Conqueror's Castellan. From what
little we know of him, he would appear to have been a typical Norman
baron, ruthless, yet superstitious, strong to conquer and strong to
hold. Very much the rough, marauding soldier, but gifted with an
instinct for government and order, he came over to the conquest of
England in the train of William the Bastard and in the company of Roger
D'Ivry, his sworn brother, to whom, as the chronicler tells us, he was
"iconfederyd and ibownde by faith and sacrament." Oxfordshire was
committed to his charge by the Conqueror, to reduce to final subjection
and order. He seems to have ruled it in rude soldierly fashion,
enforcing order, tripling the taxation of the town and pillaging without
scruple the religious houses of the neighbourhood. For it was only by
such ruthless exaction that the work which William had
[Illustration: BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF OXFORD BY RALPH AGAS (1578): FROM THE
ENGRAVING BY WHITTLESEY (1728).]
set him to do could be done. He had indeed been amply provided for, so
far as he himself was concerned, by the Conqueror, chiefly through a
marriage with a daughter of Wiggod of Wallingford, who had been
cupbearer to Edward the Confessor; but money was needed for the great
fortress which was now to be built to hold the town, after the fashion
of the Normans, and by holding the town to secure, as we have said, the
river.
"In the year 1071," it is recorded in the Chronicle of Osney Abbey, "was
built the Castle of Oxford by Robert D'Oigli." And by the Castle we must
understand not the mound which was already there, nor such a castle as
was afterwards built in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, but at
least the great tower of stone which still exists and was intended to
guard the western approach to the Castle. S. George's tower, for so it
was called because it was joined to the chapel of S. George's College
within the precincts, was upon the line of the enceinte. The walls are
eight feet four inches thick at the bottom, though not more than four
feet at the top. The doorway, which is some twelve feet from the ground,
was on the level of the vallum or wall of fortification, and gave access
to the first floor. There are traces of six doorways above the lead
roof, which gave access to the "hourdes." These were wooden hoardings or
galleries that could be put up outside. They had holes for the
crossbows, and holes for the pouring down of stones, boiling pitch or
oil on to the heads of threatening sappers. They were probably stored in
the top room of the tower, which is windowless.
The construction of the staircase of the tower is very peculiar. Ascend
it and you will obtain a magnificent view of Oxford, of Iffley and
Sandford Lock, Shotover and the Chiltern Hills, Hincksey, Portmeadow,
Godstow, Woodstock and Wytham Woods.
On the mound close at hand there was, after D'Oigli's day, a ten-sided
keep built in the style of Henry III. To reach the mound you go within
the gaol, and pass by a pathetic little row of murderers' graves,
sanded heaps, distinguished by initials. Under the mound is a very deep
well, covered over by a groined chamber of Transitional design.
Five towers were added later to the Castle, as Agas' map (1568) shows
us. After the Civil War, Colonel Draper, Governor of Oxford,
"sleighted," as Wood expresses it, the work about the city, but greatly
strengthened the Castle. But in the following year (1651), when the
Scots invaded England, he, for some reason, "sleighted" the Castle works
too. The five towers, shown in Agas' map, and other fortifications then
disappeared. S. George's tower alone survives.
Stern and grim that one remaining fragment of the old Castle stands up
against the sky, a landmark that recalls the good government of the
Norman kings. But the most romantic episode connected with it occurred
amidst the horrors of the time when the weakness and misrule of Stephen,
and the endeavours of Matilda to supplant him, had plunged the country
into that chaos of pillage and bloodshed from which the Norman rule had
hitherto preserved it. After the death of his son, Henry I. had forced
the barons to swear to elect his daughter Matilda as his successor. But
they elected Stephen of Blois, grandson of the Conqueror, whose chief
claim to the Crown, from their point of view, was his weak character. In
a Parliament at Oxford (1135) he granted a charter with large liberties
to the Church, but his weakness and prodigality soon gave the barons
opportunities of revolt. Released from the stern control of Henry they
began to fortify their castles; in self-defence the great ministers of
the late King followed their example. Stephen seized the Bishops of
Salisbury and Lincoln at Oxford, and forced them to surrender their
strongholds. The King's misplaced violence broke up the whole system of
government, turned the clergy against him and opened the way for the
revolt of the adherents of Matilda. The West was for her; London and the
East supported Stephen. Victory at Lincoln placed Stephen a captive in
the hands of Matilda, and the
[Illustration: Oxford Castle]
land received her as its "Lady." But her contemptuous refusal to allow
the claims of the Londoners to enjoy their old privileges, and her
determination to hold Stephen a prisoner, strengthened the hand of her
opponents. They were roused to renew their efforts. Matilda was forced
to flee to Oxford, and there she was besieged by Stephen, who had
obtained his release.
Stephen marched on Oxford, crossed the river at the head of his men,
routed the Queen's supporters, and set fire to the city. Matilda shut
herself up in the Castle and prepared to resist the attacks of the King.
But Stephen prosecuted the siege with great vigour; every approach to
the Castle was carefully guarded, and after three months the garrison
was reduced to the greatest straits. Provisions were exhausted; the
long-looked-for succour never came; without, Stephen pushed the siege
harder than ever. It seemed certain that Matilda must fall into his
hands. Her capture would be the signal for the collapse of the
rebellion. But just as the end seemed inevitable, Matilda managed to
escape in marvellous wise. There had been a heavy fall of snow; so far
as the eye could see from the Castle towers the earth was hidden beneath
a thick white pall. The river was frozen fast. The difficulty of
distinguishing a white object on this white background, and the
opportunity of crossing the frozen river by other means than that of the
guarded bridge, suggested a last faint chance of escape. Matilda's
courage rose to the occasion. She draped herself in white, and with but
one companion stole out of the beleaguered Castle at dead of night, and
made her way, unseen, unheard through the friendly snow. Dry-footed she
stole across the river, and gradually the noise of the camp faded away
into the distance behind her. For six weary miles she stumbled on
through the heavy drifts of snow, until at last she arrived in safety at
Wallingford.
The bird had flown, and the Castle shortly afterwards surrendered to the
baffled King (_Gesta Stephani_).
During this siege the people were deprived of the use of the Church of
S. George, and to supply their spiritual needs a new church sprang into
existence. It was dedicated to S. Nicholas, and afterwards to S. Thomas
a Becket. Of the original church, just opposite the L. & N.W. Railway
Station, part of the chancel remains. The tower is fifteenth century.
The Castle mill is mentioned in the Domesday Survey. The present mill no
doubt occupies the same site; its foundations may preserve some of the
same masonry as that which is thus recorded to have existed hereabouts
before the Conquest.
You will notice that the Castle occupies almost the lowest position in
the town, and remembering all the other Norman castles you have seen,
Windsor or Durham, Lincoln or William the Bastard's own birth-place at
Falaise, the Oxford site may well give you pause, till you remember that
the position of the old tenth-century fort had been chosen as the one
which best commanded the streams against the Danes, whose incursions
were mainly made by means of the rivers. If Carfax had been clear,
D'Oigli would have built his castle at Carfax; but it was covered with
houses and S. Martin's; and, shrinking from the expense that would have
been involved, and the outcry that would have been raised, if he had
cleared the high central point of the town, he was content to modify and
strengthen the old fort. But as the descent of Queen Street from Carfax
threatened the Castle, if the town were taken, there was no regular
communication made between the Castle and the town. A wooden drawbridge
across the deep ditches that defended the Castle led to the town,
somewhere near Castle Street. This would be destroyed in time of danger.
No other entrance to the town was allowed on this side. "All persons
coming across the meadows from the West and all the goods disembarked at
the Hythe from the barges and boats would have to be taken in at the
North Gate of the town, the road passing along the North bank of the
City ditch and following, probably, exactly the same course as that
followed by George Street to-day" (Parker). And round about the Castle
itself an open space was preserved by the policy of the Castellan, and
known as the Bailly (ballium, outer court). The Church of S. Peter le
Bailly recalls the fact.
Study the history of most cathedrals and you will discover that, like
Chartres or Durham, "half house of God, half castle 'gainst the Scot,"
they have served and were intended to serve at some period of their
career as fortresses as well as churches.
When Bishop Remigius removed the see from Dorchester to Lincoln, as he
did at this time (1070), Henry of Huntingdon writes: "He built a church
to the Virgin of Virgins, strong in a strong position, fair in a fair
spot, which was agreeable to those who serve God and also, as was
needful at the time, impregnable to an enemy." The tower of S. Michael's
at North Gate is a good example of this mingling of the sacred with the
profane, and the architectural feature of it is that it combines the
qualities of a campanile with those of the tower of the Castle. It was a
detached tower, and not part and parcel of the church which stood at the
North Gate, as it is now. In the fifteenth century the city wall was
extended northwards so as to include the church.
The tower is placed just where we should expect to find that the need of
fortification was felt. South and East, Oxford was now protected by the
Thames and the Cherwell as well as by her "vallum," and on the west was
the Castle. But the North Gate needed protection, and D'Oigli built the
tower of S. Michael's to give it, spiritual and temporal both. At a
later date there was erected a chapel, also dedicated to S. Michael,
near the South Gate, and with reference to this church and chapel and
the Churches of S. Peter in the East and in the West, there is a
mediæval couplet which runs as follows:
"Invigilat portæ australi boreæque Michael,
Exortum solem Petrus regit atque cadentem."
"At North Gate and at South Gate too S. Michael guards the way,
While o'er the East and o'er the West S. Peter holds his sway."
The military character of S. Michael's tower is marked by that
round-headed doorway, which you may perceive some thirty feet from the
ground on the north side. Just as the blocked-up archways at the top of
the Castle tower once gave access to the wooden galleries which
projected from the wall, so this doorway opened on to a lower gallery
which guarded the approach to the adjoining gateway. On the south side
of the tower you will find traces of another doorway, the base of which
was about twelve feet from the level of the ground. It is reasonable to
suppose that the tower projected from the north side of the rampart, and
that this doorway was the means of communication between them. The other
doorway, on the west side, level with the street, gave access from the
road to the basement story of the tower.
Architecturally the tower may be said to be a connecting link between
the romanesque and Norman styles. The system of rubble, with
long-and-short work at the angles, has not yet given place to that of
surface ashlar masonry throughout, and the eight pilaster windows, it
should be observed, of rude stone-work carved with the axe, present the
plain, pierced arches, with mid-wall shafts, which preceded the splayed
Norman window and arches with orders duly recessed. The church itself
adjoining the tower is of various periods, chiefly fourteenth century.
It was, together with S. Mildred's, united (in 1429) to All Saint's
Church, which then was made a collegiate parish church by the foundation
of Lincoln College adjoining.
Not only was Robert D'Oigli a builder of walls and towers, but, in the
end, of churches also. The Chronicle of Abingdon Abbey records the story
of his conversion.
"In his greed for gain, says the Chronicler, he did everywhere
harass the churches, and especially the Abbey of Abingdon. Amongst
other evil deeds he appropriated for the use of the Castle garrison
a meadow that lay outside the walls of Oxford and belonged to the
Abbey. Touched to the quick the brethren assembled before their
Altar and cried to Heaven for vengeance. Meantime, whilst day and
night they were thus calling upon the Blessed Mary, Robert fell
into a grievous sickness in which he continued many days
impenitent, until one night he dreamed that he stood within the
palace of a certain great King. And before a glorious lady who was
seated upon a throne there knelt two of the monks whose names he
knew and they said 'Lady, this is he who seizes the lands of your
church.' After which words were uttered she turned herself with
great indignation towards Robert and commanded him to be thrust out
of doors and to be led to the meadow. And two youths made him sit
down there, and a number of ruffianly lads piled burning hay round
him and made sport of him. Some tossed haybands in his face and
others singed his beard and the like. His wife, seeing that he was
sleeping heavily, woke him up and on his narrating to her his dream
she urged him to go to Abingdon and restore the meadow. To Abingdon
therefore he caused his men to row him and there before the altar
he made satisfaction."
There are two points to be noted in this story. First, that the meadow
in question was doubtless that which bears the name of _King's Mead_ to
this day; second, that the river was a much used highway in those and in
much later times, ere money and Macadam, and afterwards George
Stephenson, had substituted roads and rails and made the water-way slow
and no safer. To return to our Chronicler.
"And after the aforesaid vision which he had seen, how that he was
tortured by evil demons at the command of the Mother of God, not
only did he devote himself to the building of the Church of S. Mary
of Abingdon but he also repaired at his own expense other parish
churches that were in a ruined state both within and without the
walls. A great bridge, also, was built by him on the North side of
Oxford (High or Hythe (= Haven) Bridge). And he dying in the month
of September was honourably buried within the Presbytery at
Abingdon on the north side, and his wife lies in peace buried on
his left."
Together with his sworn friend, Roger D'Ivry, he founded the "Church of
S. George in the Castle of Oxenford." This church stood adjacent to the
Castle tower, but it was removed in 1805 to make room for the prison
buildings.[6]
Probably, also, D'Oigli founded a church, dedicated to S. Mary Magdalen,
situated just without the North Gate, and intended to supply the
spiritual wants of travellers and dwellers without the walls. The church
was on the site of the present Church of S. Mary Magdalen; but no trace
of the original work has been left by the early Victorian restorers. It
passed with the Church of S. George to Osney Abbey, and then with its
patron to the successors of the canons of S. Frideswide's, the prebends
or canons of Christ Church.
D'Oigli probably built also the Church of S. Michael at the North Gate
and S. Peter's within the East Gate; and as for his restorations, they
may have included the parish church, S. Martin's, and also S. Mary's and
S. Ebbe's, which latter may possibly have been built in the time of
Edward the Confessor.
How very literally S. Peter's guarded the east may be gathered by
inspecting the two turrets at the east end of the church. There were
small openings in these whence a watch could be kept over the streams
and the approach to East Gate.
Whether the crypt of this church, as we now have it, dates entirely from
D'Oigli's time is a moot point. It may be that it does, but the actual
masonry, it will be noticed, the ashlar work, capitals and arches, are
superior to that of the Castle and S. Michael's. The plan of the
original crypt of S. George's in the Castle shows that it had, in
accordance with the general rule of eleventh-century work in this
country, an apsidal termination. The crypt of S. Peter's, as built in
D'Oigli's day, was, it is suggested, no exception. It had an apsidal
termination which did not extend so far towards the east as the present
construction. But, as happened again and again in the history of
innumerable churches and cathedrals at
[Illustration: S. Peter's in the East]
home and abroad, of Chartres, Rochester, Canterbury, for instance, the
crypt was presently extended eastwards. The extension in the present
case would enable the small apse to be changed into a larger choir with
a rectangular east end. The result is, that looking eastwards, and
noticing that there is no apparent break between the wall of the crypt
and the wall of the chancel above, which evidently belongs to the middle
of the twelfth century, you would be inclined to attribute the whole
crypt to that date, if you did not notice the small doorways on either
side and at the western end. Looking westward, you see work which
carries you back to the days when S. Michael's and the Castle tower were
being built. For the three western arches, two of them doorways now
blocked up and the central one open, indicate a type of crypt which is
generally held not to have been used later than the beginning of the
twelfth century. The essential features of this type were that the vault
of the crypt was raised some feet above the level of the floor of the
nave, and that both from the north and south side of the nave steps led
down into the crypt. And in some cases there were central steps as well,
or at least some opening from the nave. Here then, as at Repton, you
have indications of this type, for behind each of the blocked-up
doorways is a passage leading to some steps or clear traces of steps,
and the central archway may have provided originally an opening to the
nave, through which a shrine may have been visible, or else a
communication by central steps.
The entrance to this remarkable crypt, with its vaulting of
semi-circular arches of hewn stone, is from the outside. The crypt has
capitals of a peculiar design to several of the shafts, and four of the
bases ornamented with spurs formed by the heads of lizard-shaped
animals. The chancel and the south doorway afford remarkably rich
examples of the late Norman style. The fifteenth-century porch, with a
room over it, somewhat hides, but has doubtless protected the latter.
The early decorated tower, the exterior arcading of the chancel, the
unique groining of the sanctuary ("S. Peter's Chain,") and the two
beautiful decorated windows on the north, and the early English arcade
of the nave, are all worthy of remark in this interesting church.
Of the old Church of S. Ebbe (S. Æbba was the sister of S. Oswald),
which was rebuilt in 1814 and again partially in 1869, nothing now
remains save the stone-work of a very rich late Norman doorway, which
was taken down and built into the south wall of the modern building.
The other church which is mentioned at this period is S. Aldate's. Now,
nothing is known of the Saint to whom this church is supposed to have
been dedicated, and from whom, as we have seen, the street which runs
from Carfax to Folly Bridge borrows its name. In no ancient martyrology
or calendar does S. Aldate appear. It is quite possible that there was
such a Saint, and if there was, he would not be the only one who
survives in our memory solely by virtue of the churches dedicated to
him. But the corruption--S. Told's--S. Old's is found in
thirteenth-century chartularies and in popular parlance to-day. This
corruption is curious, and may be significant. S. Aldate's Church at
Oxford lies just within the old South Gate of the town; the only other
church of the same name lies just within the old North Gate of
Gloucester. In an old map of Gloucester this latter church is called S.
Aldgate's; in an old map of Oxford the same spelling occurs. At Oxford
the street now known as S. Aldate's was once called South Gate Street.
It seems likely, therefore, that Aldate represents a corruption from Old
Gate = Aldgate = Aldate, and that the name, when it had become so far
corrupted, was supposed to be that of a Saint. But the true meaning, as
so often happens, lived on, when men spoke with unconscious correctness
of S. Old's.
The church itself, as it now stands, is chiefly the product of a
restoration in 1863,[7] but the south aisle was built in 1335 by Sir
John Docklington, a fishmonger who was several times mayor. Over it
there used to be an upper story which served as a library for the use of
students in Civil Law who frequented the neighbouring hall, Broadgates
Hall, which became Pembroke College in 1624, when Thomas Tesdale endowed
it and named it after Lord Pembroke the Chancellor, and King James
assumed the honours of founder. In the library the refectory of the old
hall survives. The rest of the front quadrangle was added in the
seventeenth century and Gothicised in the eighteenth. It was in a room
over the gateway that Dr Johnson lived, when Pembroke was "a nest of
singing birds." The eighteenth-century chapel, decorated (1884) by Mr
Kempe, and the new hall should tempt the visitor into the back
quadrangle.
In the days of Robert D'Oigli, then, Oxford was provided with no less
than eight churches, dedicated to S. Frideswide, S. Martin, S. George,
S. Mary Magdalen, S. Mary the Virgin, S. Peter, S. Michael and S. Ebbe.
By the end of the reign of Henry I. this number had been more than
doubled. And seeing that much church building is and always was a sign
of prosperity and security, the fact that eight new churches sprang up
within so short a time after the Norman Conquest may be taken to prove
that under her sheriffs and portreeves Oxford enjoyed good government
and made rapid progress in population and wealth. Of these eight or ten
new churches no trace remains of S. Mildred's, save the pathway across
the old churchyard which survives in the modern Brasenose Lane; and the
church dedicated to S. Eadward the martyr, which lay between S.
Frideswide's and the High, has likewise disappeared; the exact sites of
the church of S. Budoc, the Chapel of the Holy Trinity and of S. Michael
at the South Gate, cannot be identified; the Chapel of S. Clement, on
the other side of Magdalen Bridge, gave way to a fourteenth-century
church, and was wholly cleared away at the beginning of the nineteenth
century; All Saint's and S. Peter's, in the bailey of the Castle, were
entirely rebuilt in the eighteenth century, and the latter re-erected on
another site in the nineteenth. The old chancel arch in the Church of
S. Cross (Holywell) dates from the end of the eleventh century, and this
church was probably founded about this time by Robert D'Oigli or his
successors for the benefit of the growing population on Holywell Manor.
The present Church of S. Clement, on the Marston Road, near the new
Magdalen and Trinity Cricket Grounds, is an early Victorian imitation of
Norman style, and well described as the "Boiled Rabbit."
The Castle tower, the tower of S. Michael's, the crypt of S. Peter's in
the East, Holywell and the Castle mill, the chancel of S. Cross, these
are all landmarks that recall the days when D'Oigli governed Oxford, and
the servants of William surveyed England and registered for him his new
estate. But there is one other item in the Domesday record which
deserves to be noticed:
"All burgesses of Oxford hold in common a pasture without the wall
which brings in 6s. 8d."
How many Oxford men realise, when they make their way to Port Meadow to
sail their centre-boards on the upper river, that this ancient "Port"
(or "Town") Meadow is still set apart for its ancient purpose, that the
rights of the freemen of Oxford to have free pasture therein have been
safeguarded for eight hundred years by the portreeve or shire-reeve
(sheriff), annually appointed to fulfil this duty by the Portmannimot
(or Town Council)?
Robert D'Oigli died childless. He was succeeded by his nephew, the
second Robert, who had wedded Edith, a concubine of Henry I. She,
dwelling in the Castle, was wont to walk in the direction of what is now
the Great Western Railway Station and the cemetery, being attracted
thither by the "chinking rivulets and shady groves."
[Illustration: Entrance Front
Pembroke College]
And it is said that there one evening, "she saw a great company of
pyes gathered together on a tree, making a hideous noise with their
chattering, and seeming, as 'twere, to direct their chatterings to
her." The experience was repeated, and the Lady sent for her
confessor, one Radulphus, a canon of S. Frideswide's, and asked him
what the reason of their chattering might be. Radulphus, "the
wiliest pye of all," Wood calls him, explained that "these were no
pyes, but so many poor souls in purgatory that do beg and make all
this complaint for succour and relief; and they do direct their
clamours to you, hoping that by your charity you would bestow
something both worthy of their relief, as also for the welfare of
yours and your posterity's souls, as your husband's uncle did in
founding the College and Church of S. George." These words being
finisht, she replied, "And is it so indeed? now de pardieux, if old
Robin my husband will concede to my request, I shall do my best
endeavour to be a means to bring these wretched souls to rest." And
her husband, as the result of her importunities, "founded the
monastery of Osney, near or upon the place where these pyes
chattered (1129), dedicating it to S. Mary, allotting it to be a
receptacle of Canon Regulars of S. Augustine, and made Radulphus
the first Prior thereof."
Osney was rebuilt in 1247. The Legate proclaimed forty days' indulgence
to anyone who should contribute towards the building of it. The result
was one of the most magnificent abbeys in the country. "The fabric of
the church," says Wood, "was more than ordinary excelling." Its two
stately towers and exquisite windows moved the envy and admiration of
Englishmen and foreigners alike. When, in 1542, Oxford ceased to belong
to the diocese of Lincoln, and the new see was created, Robert King, the
last Abbot of Osney, was made first Bishop of Osney. But it was only for
a few years that the bishop's stool was set up in the Church of S. Mary.
In 1546 Henry the VIII. moved the see to S. Frideswide's, and converted
the priory, which Wolsey had made a college, into both college and
cathedral. And the Abbey of Osney was devoted to destruction. "Sir,"
said Dr Johnson when he saw the ruins of that great foundation, stirred
by the memory of its splendid cloister and spacious quadrangle as large
as Tom Quad, its magnificent church, its schools and libraries, the
oriel windows and high-pitched roofs of its water-side buildings, and
the abbot's lodgings, spacious and fair, "Sir! to look upon them fills
me with indignation!" Agas' map (1568) represents the abbey as still
standing, but roofless; the fortifications in 1644 accounted for the
greater part of what then remained. The mean surroundings of the railway
station mark the site of the first Cathedral of Oxford. The Cemetery
Chapel is on the site of the old nave. A few tiles and fragments of
masonry, the foundations of the gateway and a piece of a building
attached to the mill, are the only remains that will reward you for an
unpleasant afternoon's exploration in this direction. Better, instead of
trying so to make these dead stones live, to go to the Cathedral and
there look at the window in the south choir aisle, which was buried
during the Civil War and, thus preserved from the destructive Puritans,
put up again at the Restoration. This painted window, which is perhaps
from the hand of the Dutchman Van Ling (1634), represents Bishop King in
cope and mitre, and among the trees in the background is a picture of
Osney Abbey already in ruins. The bishop's tomb, it should be added, of
which a missing fragment has this year been discovered, lies in the bay
between the south choir aisle and S. Lucy's Chapel. But there is one
other survival of Osney Abbey of which you cannot long remain unaware.
You will not have been many hours in the "sweet city of the dreaming
spires" before you hear the "merry Christ Church bells" of Dean
Aldrich's[8] well-known catch ring out, or the cracked B flat of Great
Tom, booming his hundred and one strokes, tolling the hundred students
of the scholastic establishment and the one "outcomer" of the Thurston
foundation, and signalling at the same time to all "scholars to repair
to their respective colleges and halls" and to all the Colleges to close
their gates (9.5 P.M.).
And these bells, Hautclerc, Douce, Clement, Austin, Marie, Gabriel et
John, as they are named in the hexameter, are the famous Osney bells,
which were held to be the finest in England in the days when
bell-founding was a serious art and a solemn rite, when bells were
baptized and anointed, exorcised and blessed by the bishop, so that they
might have power to drive the devil out of the air, to calm tempests, to
extinguish fire, and to recreate even the dead. They are hung within the
Bell-Tower (above the hall-staircase of Christ Church), which Mr Bodley
has built about the wooden structure which contains them, and which he
intended to surmount with a lofty and intricate wooden superstructure.
But Tom is placed in his own tower, over the entrance from S. Aldate's
into the great Quad to which he has given his name.
The lower story of Tom Tower was built by Wolsey (the Faire Gate it was
called, and the cardinal's statue is over the gateway), but the
octagonal cupola which gives to it its characteristic appearance was
added by Sir Christopher Wren. Tom weighed 17,000 pounds, and bore the
inscription:--
_In Thomæ laude resono Bim Bom sine fraude_,
but he was re-cast in 1680 (7 ft. 1 in. in diameter, and weighing over 7
tons). The inscription records:--
_Magnus Thomas Clusius Oxoniensis renatus, Ap. 8, 1680._
Translated here, he has rung out, since the anniversary of the
Restoration on the 29th of May 1684, nightly without intermission, save
on that night some years ago when the undergraduates of Christ Church
cut the rope as a protest when they were not allowed to attend the ball
given at Blenheim in honour of the coming of age of the Duke of
Marlborough, and curfew did not ring that night.
There is one other monument in Oxford which is connected by popular
tradition with the last Abbot of Osney, and that is the exceedingly
picturesque old house[9] in S. Aldate's. Richly and quaintly carved,
this old timber mansion is known as the Bishop's Palace, and is said to
have been the residence of Bishop King, after the See was transferred
from Osney to Christ Church.
[Illustration: Gables in St Aldate's]
The town, we have seen, had been ruined, and very many of the houses
were "waste," when the Normans conquered England. But in the new era of
prosperity and security which their coming gave to the land, in the
sudden development of industry and wealth which the rule of the
conquerors fostered, Oxford had her full share. The buildings of which
remnants or records remain bear witness to the new order of things.
Such works as those which we have described could not then or now be
done without money. The transformation of Oxford at this period, from a
town of wooden houses, in great part uninhabited, to a town of stone
houses, with a castle and many churches of stone, is an indication of
wealth. And that wealth was a product not only of the new régime of
order and security, but also of the new policy of the foreign kings.
The erection of stately castles and yet statelier Abbeys which followed
the Conquest, says Mr Green, the rebuilding of almost every cathedral
and conventual church, mark the advent of the Jewish capitalist. From
this time forward till 1289 the Jew was protected in England and his
commercial enterprise fostered. He was introduced and protected as a
chattel of the King, and as such exempt from the common law and common
taxation of Englishmen. In Oxford, as elsewhere, the Jews lived apart,
using their own language, their own religion and laws, their own
peculiar commerce and peculiar dress. Here the Great and Little Jewries
extended along Fish Street (S. Old's) to the present Great Gate of
Christ Church, and embraced a square of little streets, behind this
line, which was isolated and exempt from the common responsibilities and
obligations of the town. The church itself was powerless against the
Synagogue, which rose in haughty rivalry beside the cloister of S.
Frideswide. Little wonder if the Priory and Jewry were soon at deadly
feud. In 1185 we find Prior Phillip complaining of a certain
Deus-cum-crescat (Gedaliah) son of Mossey, who, presuming upon his
exemption from the jurisdiction of any but the King, had dared to mock
at the Procession of S. Frideswide. Standing at his door as the
procession of the saint passed by, the mocking Jew halted and then
walked firmly on his feet, showed his hands clenched as if with palsy
and then flung open his fingers. Then he claimed gifts and oblations
from the crowd who flocked to S. Frideswide's, on the ground that such
recoveries of limb and strength were quite as real as any Frideswide had
wrought. But no earthly power, ecclesiastic or civil, ventured to meddle
with Deus-cum-crescat.
The feud between Jewry and Priory lasted long. It culminated in 1268 in
a daring act of fanaticism, which incidentally provides a curious proof
of the strong protection which the Jews enjoyed, and of the boldness
with which they showed their contempt for the superstitions around them.
As the customary procession of scholars and citizens was returning on
Ascension Day from S. Frideswide's, a Jew suddenly burst from the group
of his friends in front of the synagogue, and snatching the crucifix
from its bearer, trod it underfoot. But even in presence of such an
outrage, the terror of the Crown shielded the Jewry from any burst of
popular indignation. The King condemned the Jews of Oxford to make a
heavy silver crucifix for the University to carry in the processions,
and to erect a cross of marble where the crime was committed; but even
this punishment was in part remitted, and a less offensive place was
allotted for the cross in an open plot by Merton College.
But the time of the Jews had almost come. Their wealth and growing
insolence had fanned the flames of popular prejudice against them.
Protected by the kings whose policy it was to allow none to plunder them
but their royal selves, they reaped a harvest greater than even the
royal greed could reap.[10]
Their position as chattels of the King, outside the power of clergy or
barons, and as citizens of little towns within towns in whose life they
took no part except to profit by it, stirred the jealousy of the
various classes. Wild stories were circulated then, as on the Continent
still, of children carried off to be circumcised or crucified. The sack
of Jewry after Jewry was the sign of popular hatred and envy during the
Barons' war. Soon the persecution of the law fell upon these unhappy
people. Statute after statute hemmed them in. They were forbidden to
hold real property, to employ Christian servants, and to move through
the streets without two tell-tale white tablets of wool on their
breasts. Their trade, already crippled by the competition of bankers,
was annihilated by the royal order which bade them renounce usury, under
the pain of death. At last Edward, eager to obtain funds for his
struggle with Scotland, yielded to the fanaticism of his subjects and
bought the grant of a fifteenth from the clergy and laity at the price
of driving the Jews from his realm. From the time of Edward to that of
Cromwell no Jew touched English soil.
There is no reason to suppose with many historians that the Jews of
Oxford contributed through their books, seized at this time, to the
cultivation of physical and medical science, or that it was through the
books of the Rabbis that Roger Bacon was enabled to penetrate to the
older world of research. The traces which they have left in Oxford, save
in the indirect manner I have suggested, are not many. The rising
ground, now almost levelled, between the Castle and Broken Hayes, on the
outer edge of the Castle ditch on the north side, was long known as the
Mont de Juis, but being the place of execution, the name may more likely
be derived from justice than from Jews. A more interesting reminiscence
is provided by the Physic Garden opposite Magdalen College.
Henry II. had granted the Jews the right of burial outside of every city
in which they dwelt. At Oxford their burial place was on the site where
S. John's hospital was afterwards built, and was then transferred to the
place where the Physic Garden now stands.
This garden, the first land publicly set apart for the scientific study
of plants, was founded by Henry, Earl of Danby (1632), who gave the land
for this purpose. Mr John Evelyn visiting it a few years later was shown
the Sensitive Plant there for a great wonder. There also grew, he tells
us, canes, olive trees, rhubarb, but no extraordinary curiosities,
besides very good fruit. Curious, however, the shapes of the clipped
trees were, if we may believe Tickell, who writes enthusiastically:
"How sweet the landskip! where in living trees,
Here frowns a vegetable Hercules;
There famed Achilles learns to live again
And looks yet angry in the mimic scene;
Here artful birds, which blooming arbours shew,
Seem to fly higher whilst they upwards grow."
The gateway was designed by Inigo Jones, and the figures of Charles I.
and II. were added later, the expense being defrayed out of the fine
levied upon Anthony Wood for his libel upon Clarendon.
About the same time that Osney Abbey was finished the palace which Henry
Beauclerk had been building at Beaumont, outside the north gate of the
city, was finished also. To satisfy his love of hunting he had already
(1114) constructed a palace and park at Woodstock. Within the stone
walls of the enclosure there he nourished and maintained, says John
Rous, lions, leopards, strange spotted beasts, porcupines, camels, and
such like animals, sent to him by divers outlandish lords.
The old palace at Beaumont lay to the north-east of Worcester College.
Its site, chosen by the King "for the great pleasure of the seat and the
sweetness and delectableness of the air," is indicated by Beaumont
Street, a modern street which has revived the name of the palace on the
hill,--Bellus mons.
When not occupied with his books or his menagerie, the Scholar-King
found time to grant charters to the town, and he let to the city the
collective dues or fee-farm rent of the place.
Henry II. held important councils at Beaumont. The one romance of his
life is connected with Woodstock and Godstow.
One of the most charming of the many beautiful excursions by road or
river from Oxford takes you to the little village of Godstow,
"Through those wide fields of breezy grass
Where black-winged swallows haunt the glittering Thames."
To sail here from Folly Bridge or the Upper River, to fish here, to play
bowls or skittles here, to eat strawberries and cream here, has for
centuries been the delight of Oxford students.
"So on thy banks, too, Isis, have I strayed
A tasselled student, witness you who shared
My morning walk, my ramble at high noon,
My evening voyage, an unskilful sail,
To Godstow bound, or some inferior port,
For strawberries and cream. What have we found
In life's austerer hours delectable
As the long day so loitered?"
Just opposite the picturesque old Trout Inn and the bridge which spans
the river here you may see an old boundary wall, enclosing a paradise of
ducks and geese, at one corner of which is a ruined chapel with a
three-light perpendicular window. These are the only remaining fragments
of the once flourishing Nunnery, which was the last home of Rosamund,
Rosa Mundi, the Rose of the World.
During his residence at Oxford, Henry granted the growing city an
important charter, confirming the liberties they had enjoyed under Henry
I.,
"and specially their guild merchant, with all liberties and
customs, in lands and in goods, pastures and other accessories, so
that any one who is not of the guildhall shall not traffic in city
or suburbs, except as he was wont at the time of King Henry, my
grandfather. Besides I have granted them to be quit of toll and
passenger tax, and every custom through all England and Normandy,
by land, by water, by sea-coast, _by land and by strand_. And they
are to have all other customs and liberties and laws of their own,
which they have in common with my citizens of London. And that they
serve me at my feast with those of my Butlery, and do their traffic
with them, within London and without, and everywhere."
Oxford then (1161) enjoyed customs and liberties in common with London;
her charter was copied from that of the Londoners, and on any doubtful
matter she was bound to consult the parent town. She was soon provided
with aldermen, bailiffs, and chamberlains, whose titles were borrowed
from the merchant guild, and with councilmen who were elected from the
citizens at large. The Mayor was formally admitted to his office by the
Barons of the Exchequer at Westminster, and on his return thence, he was
met always by the citizens in their liveries at Trinity Chapel, without
Eastgate, where he stayed to return thanks to God for his safe return,
and left an alms upon the altar.
The merchant guild was originally distinct from the municipal
government, though finally the Guildhall became the common hall of the
city. In practice the chief members of the merchant guild would usually
be also the chief members of the Court-leet. The business of the
merchant guild was to regulate trade. Its relation to the craft guilds
is analogous to that which exists between the University and the
Colleges.
The Crafts, to which, as to the freedom of the city, men obtained
admission by birth, apprenticeship, or purchase, were numerous,
flourishing and highly organised. Every trade from cordwainers to cooks,
from tailors, weavers, and glovers to butchers and bakers, was a
brotherhood, with arms and a warden, beadle, and steward of its own, and
an annually elected headmaster.
The various Guilds had special chapels in the different churches where
they burnt candles and celebrated mass, on particular days. The glovers
held mass on Trinity Monday in All Saints' Church; the tailors in the
same church, and they also founded a chantrey in S. Martin's. "A token
of this foundation is a pair of tailor's shears painted in the upper
south window of the south aisle" (Wood). The cooks celebrated their
chief holiday in Whitsun week, when they showed themselves in their
bravery on horseback.
The tailors had their shops in Wincheles Row, and they had a custom of
revelling on the vigil of S. John the Baptist.
"Caressing themselves with all joviality in meats and drinks they
would in the midst of the night dance and take a circuit throughout
all the streets, accompanied by divers musical instruments, and
using some certain sonnets in praise of their profession and
patron."
But such customs led to disturbances and were finally prohibited. The
barbers, a company which existed till fifty years ago, maintained a
light in Our Lady's Chapel at S. Frideswide's. Some of the regulations
by which they bound themselves when they were incorporated by order of
the Chancellor in 1348 are typical. The barbers, it should be added,
were the mediæval physicians too.
Their ordinances provided that no person of that craft should work on a
Sunday or shave any but such as were to preach or do a religious act on
Sundays. No servant or man of the craft should reveal any infirmity or
secret disease he had to his customers or patients. A master of the
craft was to be chosen every year, to whom every one of his craft should
be obedient during his year of office. Every apprentice that was to set
up shop after his time was expired should first give the master and
wardens with the rest of the society a dinner and pay for one pound of
wax, and that being done, the said master and wardens with three other
seniors of the craft should bring him to the chancellor upon their
shoulders, before whom he was to take his oath to keep all the
ordinations and statutes of the craft, and pay to Our Lady's box
eightpence and the like sum to the chancellor. The same procedure must
be observed by any foreigner that had not been prenticed in Oxford but
desired to set up a shop to occupy as barber, surgeon, or waferer or
maker of singing bread. All such as were of the craft were to receive at
least sixpence a quarter of each customer that desired to be shaved
every week in his chamber or house. If any member of the craft should
take upon him to teach any person not an apprentice, he should pay 6s.
8d., whereof 3s. 4d. should go to the craft, 1s. 8d. to the chancellor,
and 1s. 8d. to the proctors. Rules are also given for the observance of
the barbers' annual holiday and the election of their master.
Stimulated by the presence of the kings without its walls and the growth
of the university within, trade flourished so greatly that it was soon
necessary to regulate it by minute provisions. In the reign of Edward
II. (1319) the mayor and bailiffs were commanded to "prevent confusion
in the merchandising of strangers, and those who were not free of any
guild from thrusting out those who were." All traders and sellers who
came to Oxford on market days--Wednesdays and Saturdays--were to know
each one their places.
"The sellers of straw, with their horses and cattle that bring it,"
so ran the regulation, "shall stand between East Gate and All
Saints' Church, in the middle of the King's Highway. The sellers of
wood in carts shall stand between Shidyard (Oriel) Street and the
tenement of John Maidstone and the tenement on the east side of the
Swan Inn (now King Edward's Street, the ugly row of smug,
commonplace houses which has been erected on the site of Swan
Yard). The sellers of bark shall stand between S. Thomas' Hall
(Swan Inn) and S. Edward's Lane (Alfred Street). The sellers of
hogs and pigs shall stand between the churches of S. Mary and All
Saints; the ale sellers between S. Edward's Lane and the Chequer
Inn; the sellers of earthen-pots and coals by the said lane of S.
Edward on the north side of the High Street. The sellers of gloves
and whitawyers (dresses of white leather) shall stand between All
Saints' Church and the house on the west side of the Mitre Inn; the
furriers, linen and woollen drapers by the two-faced pump (which
perhaps stood on the site of the later conduit at Carfax. This
conduit was erected in 1616 and water brought to it from the hill
springs above North Hincksey. It was removed in 1787 and presented
to Earl Harcourt, who re-erected it at Nuneham Park some five miles
from Oxford, where it may still be seen, on a slope commanding an
extensive view of the Thames Valley between Abingdon and Oxford.)
"The bakers," the regulation continued, "shall stand between Carfax
and North Gate, and behind them the foreign sellers of fish and
those that are not free or of the guild. The tanners shall stand
between Somner's Inn and Carfax; the sellers of cheese, milk, eggs,
beans, new peas and butter from the corner of Carfax towards the
Bailly; the sellers of hay and grass at the Pillory; the
cornsellers between North Gate and Mauger Hall (the Cross Inn)."
Besides these market-stands the permanent trades and resident guilds had
distinct spheres allotted to them. The cutlers, drapers, cooks and
cordwainers had their special districts; the goldsmiths had their shops
in All Saints' parish, the Spicery and Vintnery[11] lay to the south of
S. Martin's; Fish Street extended to Folly Bridge, the Corn Market
stretched away to North Gate, the stalls of the butchers ranged in their
Butchers' Row along the road to the Castle (Queen's Street). As for the
great guild of weavers, there was a wool market in Holywell Green. Part
of the ground since included in Magdalen College Grove was known as
Parry's Mead, and here twenty-three looms were working at once, and
barges came up to it on the Cherwell.
Thus then Oxford had attained to complete municipal self-government. She
stood now in the first rank of municipalities. Her political importance
is indicated by the many great assemblies that were held there. The
great assembly under Cnut had closed the struggle between Englishman and
Dane; that under Stephen ended the conquest of the Norman, whilst that
under Henry III. begins the regular progress of constitutional liberty.
In 1265, Simon de Montfort issued writs from Woodstock summoning the
famous parliament to which towns sent members for the first time. Oxford
no doubt was among the number, but the sheriff's returns are lost and it
is not till 1295 that the names of two burgesses elected to represent
her in the national council are recorded. The University did not obtain
members until the first Parliament of James I. (1609), although her
advice had often been consulted by kings and parliaments before.[12] So
far, then, we have followed the growth of a town of increasing political
and commercial importance. We have now to trace the growth within its
borders of a new and rival body, which was destined, after a century or
more of faction and disorder, to humble her municipal freedom to the
dust.