Part 10

“I do not dislike the little conceits here,” I replied; “it shows that the ascetic monks had something fresh and green left in them. Perhaps that fine Chantrey monument is not so much out of place here as some suppose. Bishop North was a good Christian and a good cricketer. It is said that sometimes while he was in the field hitting away, his chaplain was in the tent bowling hard questions at the candidates for ordination.”

Our guide now took us into the next or northernmost chapel, dedicated to the “Guardian Angels.”

“There is nothing of much interest here?” I observed, looking around.

“No, sir,” he replied, “except the window.”

“There is nothing remarkable in that?”

“No; except that it was put up by a remarkable man,” he returned, warmly; “the best dean we could possibly have--generous to rich and poor; and yet,” he added, with a twinkle, “he left a good bit, £50,000.”

The dean of whom the verger spoke so enthusiastically lived to be ninety-six. His son became a dean, lived to be seventy, and died before his father. Expectant heirs, take note.

[Sidenote: Ethelmar.]

Passing westward to the north presbytery aisle we find an old-fashioned dumpy ship carved over the grave of Harthacnut.[85] Hard by lies the heart of Ethelmar, the half-brother of Henry III. When the bishop, after landing at Dover, came to Winchester, the King, who was much at this city, went out to meet him with a grand procession. Ethelmar seems to have been an avaricious young man;[86] he was scarcely elected when he had a conflict with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and also with the monks of St. Swithun. He deposed the prior here because he refused to give an account of some property, and the lawsuit between him and the monks was so serious that they mortgaged the church of Winchester for 7,000 marks--about £5,000. Afterwards Ethelmar paid off a part of this, and the monks gave him the Isle of Portland and other property as compensation. When the Barons held a parliament here in 1258, Ethelmar was obliged to fly from the country. He died in Paris when only thirty-four, and sent over his heart, which perhaps the monks did not much appreciate. But it proved a “golden heart” to them in producing miracles. When the steps of the altar were being lowered it was found beneath them in a golden cup by a workman, who kept the cup and placed the heart in this north aisle.

We now dive down into the crypt, and find it of grand dimensions, propped with pillars such as we have just seen a specimen of in Gardiner’s Chantry. There is still a controversy as to whether this is Saxon or Norman work. It seems strange that Walkelin should have made no use of the extensive excavations and foundations of the previous building, but history asserts that the old high altar remained after the new Cathedral was finished, and the best authority considers that this edifice was entirely new. The well in the crypt is thought to have existed previously, as it is not symmetrically placed with regard to the pillars. There is still water in it, I was told. Until lately the floor was much obstructed by earth--sixteen loads have been lately removed. When James Ellis paid his visit about the middle of the last century, he found “at the end of the crypt a chapel, but the extent of it I could not examine, as it was locked up and used as a wine vault.”[87]

[Sidenote: Frescoes.]

In the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre, just under the organ, there are some fine frescoes of the thirteenth century in fair preservation, and in the north transept, especially in the north-east corner, there are traces of colour and patterns, and a large but somewhat faint fresco apparently representing some monarch. On the ancient rood screen there were carved and painted figures, and the spires of the stalls were gilt until the last century.

As we passed down the Cathedral the sun was setting, and the effect of the rays falling through the vast west window was magnificent.

Near the entrance on the north side there is a remarkable door of grille work, thought to be of the eleventh or twelfth century, perhaps the oldest specimen in England. It was formerly near the choir, and the object was, it is said, to keep unsavoury and diseased pilgrims at a safe distance.

“Perhaps some of them were like the pilgrims in the East at the present day,” said Mr. Hertford; “it was not always easy to determine ‘where the dirt ended and the saint began.’”

FOOTNOTES:

[62] He says that the monastery at this time extended all round the church; but it is difficult to understand his description, except that the palace and chief offices were on the south.

[63] Rudborne is supposed to have put Dagon for Woden, but he had mentioned the latter just before.

[64] “Gloucester Fragment,” published by the Rev. S. Earle.

[65] Edred gave a great gold cross and figures to the monastery.

[66] Cnut patronized poets, and made verses himself, which at that time showed religious tendencies. Emma, “The Rose of Normandy,” was celebrated for her beauty; she was called by the English Ælfgifu. It is remarkable that at the time when she was married at Winchester to her first husband, Ethelred, the massacre of the Danes was plotted here.

[67] “Chronicle of a Monk of Winchester.”

[68] Athelstan had given the head of St. Just.

[69] After reading such accounts we can understand the Recorder of Winchester being suspended in 1657, because among other offences he did not reprove a man for saying that “if all writings and pens were at liberty it would make the Protector as black as the blackest devil in hell.”

[70] The cost of whipcord for these operations figures in the City Rolls. The sufferers were stripped to the waist, and the irons for the women were fixed lower than for the men, to avoid injury to the breasts; after 1790 the old theatre was used partly as a store, partly as a lock-up or watch-house. In the reign of Henry VIII. the pillory and cage were in the “Square.”

[71] There is now here a balcony whence the bishops bestowed their blessings on festivals.

[72] The cross and two figures of Mary and St. John in silver and gold, given by Stigand, then stood over the rood screen, which was just at the top of the stairs. The space between it and the present screen was occupied by chapels, and afterwards by vestries, removed in Charles I.’s time.

[73] This Cathedral, measuring 556 feet from the western entrance to the end of the Lady Chapel, is the longest in England or on this side of the Alps. It is inferior in area only to two English cathedrals, York and Lincoln.

[74] Two figures of the Perpendicular period remain in the west window. A little of the glass in Fox’s east gable window is of later date.

[75] Colonel Nathaniel Fiennes stood with a drawn sword to preserve Wykeham’s Chantry when Cromwell took Winchester.

[76] Rufus was extravagant in dress, and resented a present of boots which only cost 3s.

[77] He was a Fellow of the College and a Canon of Winchester. Ken was brother-in-law of Walton.

[78] That is, approximately, for when long before, De Blois moved many of these from the crypt, he found no inscriptions and went by hearsay.

[79] A physical representation of the exhortation, “Lift up your hearts!” He ordered five thousand Masses to be said for himself and his friends.

[80] At the end of the last century.

[81] Piers Gaveston, favourite of Edward II., is by some thought to have been a son of Sir Arnald. But it has been said that he was of low origin, and even an Italian. Courtenay’s coffin was found lately in the well of the crypt, and is now in the choir.

[82] A bishop in the fourteenth century who founded, to the south of Wolvesey Castle and east of the College, the College of St. Elizabeth of Hungary. Slight traces remain.

[83] Also “God’s House” at Portsmouth, the priory of Selborne, and Titchfield Abbey.

[84] He chose this which is carved in his Chantry and elsewhere on account of his great veneration for the holy Sacrament. Hence also he gave the name of Corpus Christi to his college at Oxford, which keeps up this chantry.

[85] Cnut’s remains are said to have been found in the Cathedral in 1766.

[86] He lived in princely style. We read of his parks and cargoes of wine. He fined the Southampton citizens 100s. for selling goods during St. Giles’ fair.

[87] Add. MSS. 6768. In this crypt are some askew arches, the art of forming which is said to be lost. Another peculiarity is that the east end descends as in Glasgow Cathedral.

SIXTH DAY.

The Grenadier--Cathedral Library and Museum--The Deanery--Pilgrim’s Hall--Precincts--Cheyney Court--Regulations of the Monastery--North side of the Cathedral--Early decay of the City--St. Peter’s Street--Middle Brooks--Old Houses.

This day was to be devoted to visiting the Cathedral library and precincts, and to taking a stroll about the streets of the city.

We again entered the lime-tree avenue and looked across the burial ground. A great improvement had been carried out within the last three years. When I was last here it was crowded with tombstones bending over to each other in various stages of decay, now it presents a pleasant sward as smooth as a bowling-green. There is a headstone close to the path recording the gallantry of twenty-three persons who died in an attempt to save the property of their master from destruction by fire. Near the south-west angle of the ground there is a better-known memorial to a less heroic man, who owes his immortality to the drollery of his epitaph. It runs as follows:--

“IN MEMORY OF THOMAS THETCHER, A GRENADIER IN THE NORTH REGT. OF THE HANTS MILITIA, WHO DIED OF A VIOLENT FEVER CONTRACTED BY DRINKING SMALL BEER WHEN HOT, THE 12TH OF MAY, 1764. AGED 26 YEARS.

“In grateful remembrance of whose universal goodwill towards his Comrades, this Stone is placed here at their expense, as a Small testimony of their regard and concern.

“‘Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier Who caught his death by drinking cold small Beer; Soldiers be wise from his untimely fall And when ye’re hot drink Strong, or none at all.’

“This Memorial being Decay’d was restored by the Officers of the Garrison, A.D. 1781--

“‘An honest Soldier never is forgot Whether he die by Musket or by Pot.’”

There seems to have been a great desire among soldiers to commemorate this hero, or the moral of his death, for the stone was replaced again in 1802.

As we left this spot I recalled the memory of the Saxon, St. Brinstan, who was fond of walking here. He was an excellent man, but of a somewhat melancholy turn of mind. Every day he washed the feet of the poor, and every night he would pace up and down among the tombs saying the _Placebo_ and _Dirige_; and we are told that on one occasion when he finished by saying with emphasis “Requiescat in pace,” a chorus as from a multitude of voices came from the sepulchres pronouncing a loud “Amen.”

“A pious invention,” said Mr. Hertford, “unless, indeed, some of the monks were playing him a trick.”

[Sidenote: Roman Pavements.]

“Close to this,” I observed, “was found the Roman pavement in the Museum, about ten feet underground. Another pavement, part of which can be seen in front of the Deanery, was discovered (1880) in one of the western gardens of Dome Alley. The distance between them was small, but the difference of depth (four feet) would seem to indicate two periods of construction. We seldom realize that the Romans were here three or four hundred years.”

In the wall bounding the graveyard on the south we noticed an archway. This led down some steps still remaining into a vaulted crypt (dating from 1400), where dozens of skeletons have been found. The Dean discovered last autumn some Perpendicular groining, and massive buttresses which have probably supported a chapel where masses were “sayable.”

We now made for the “Slype” Gate, at the south-west corner of the Cathedral, beside which there is a fanciful inscription:--

ILL PREC AC ATOR H VI AMBULA.

It appears that the public were accustomed to make the Cathedral a thoroughfare, and therefore it was thought desirable (about 1630) to open this slype passage and to put up this notice. But as those who tramped through the sacred edifice on business were unlettered porters and labourers, this enigmatical Latin caution could have been of little use. We, however, obeyed the direction, and as we passed, found some more dislocated verses on the opposite wall giving a similar injunction in a rhyme between the words _choro_ and _foro_.

“Look at the valerian and harebells on the Cathedral wall,” said Miss Hertford. “How prettily they mark out the architectural lines in blue and red.”

After reaching the south entrance we made for the adjacent transept, and found at the end of it an old fourteenth-century door and a flight of oaken stairs leading to the Library. As I was mounting up I remembered how on my last visit I was conducted by a tall, handsome man, the principal verger and, I think, also librarian. He was remarkably courteous and well informed. On inquiring for him now I heard that he was no more! He had light curly hair, and I should have thought him a young man had he not told me that he had been sworn in as a special constable with Louis Napoleon at the time of the Chartist alarms. Lately I saw an extract from _The Echo_, in which the writer remarked that the vergers he had met performed their duties in a perfunctory way, “mere gabblers,” except one at Winchester Cathedral. My thoughts immediately turned to this man, but I must say that the other vergers here seem fully to appreciate the beauties and antiquities of the place.

[Sidenote: Cathedral Library.]

This “library” was built after Bishop Morley’s death as a receptacle for his bequeathed books. It might be called a treasury or museum. Here are two Anglo-Saxon Charters (854, 957). They begin in Latin, but the writer seems to have become tired, and to have lapsed into his native Anglo-Saxon towards the end. One is attested by Alfred when a boy. How interesting they would have been if they contained autographs, but it was the custom then for the scribe to insert the names with crosses against them, as we should now for illiterate persons. There is a poetical complexion about these documents much in keeping with Anglo-Saxon taste. The first one, after stating that “Christ reigns for ever,” says that “It is plain to all mortals that all things that are seen have an end, and those not seen are eternal. Therefore I Adulf through the clemency of the High Throned King of....”[88] The other commences: “Now by vicissitudes doth the fragility of human life wither, and the circling roll of ages come to nought.” The Saxons had imagination, they mingled poetry with piety; thus we read here, “In the name of Him who in the book of everlasting life in heaven has written down those with whom in life He is well pleased. I Athulf,” &c.

[Sidenote: Rare Manuscripts.]

As we look at these old parchments we think we can see again the hands of the long-buried monks, can enter again their spacious monastery, of which we have read such glowing descriptions. There was a scriptorium, or writing establishment, founded in it by St. Swithun, and rare work was executed here--witness that splendid specimen of illumination in gold and colours, called the “Benedictional of St. Athelwold,” made for that bishop.[89] Coming to a later time we have here preserved the Book of Zacharias of the twelfth century. But the greatest treat for the eyes of the bibliophilist is the large folio Vulgate of that date. It took the monks of St. Swithun’s eighty years to complete it; the work progressed as slowly as the building of a cathedral. The writing is beautiful, the illuminating as brilliant as if freshly done--the gold and deep blue we especially admired. Quaint were the designs and ideas of that age. Here is Elijah as he goes up to heaven, drawn by two red horses, throwing off not only his mantle, but the rest of his clothes, perhaps the monk thought they would be superfluous, whilst Elisha below is catching a blue tunic he has cast down.[90] This work has been bound by Dean Garnier in three volumes. It fell at some period into the hands of the Philistines, who cut out several of the beautiful illustrations.

There is an amusing story in connection with this fine manuscript. Henry II. showed with regard to it a spirit in advance of his age. He solicited and terrified the monks of St. Swithun’s into giving it up to him, and then made it a handsome present to his favourite monastery at Witham.

“Like the man who was so much moved with a charity sermon that he put his neighbour’s purse on the plate,” suggested Mr. Hertford.

“But one of the Winchester brethren,” I added, “hearing of the splendours of Witham, went to pay the abbey a visit, and there saw their own Vulgate. Explanations followed, and the monks of Witham returned the book.”

[Sidenote: Relics.]

The curiosities are not limited to books.[91] Here are four rings--one with a large square sapphire, found in the disputed tomb of Rufus or De Blois. Another with an oval sapphire belonged to Fox; and a third was Gardiner’s, engraved with a helmeted head, not unsuitable to such a belligerent bishop. Here is the rusty ring, about three inches wide, which the Dean lately found when excavating on the site of St. Swithun’s tomb--it may be that of the smith’s dream. In a case at the other end of the room are other treasures. Here are coins and a silver penny of Cnut, found on the north-west of the Cathedral. Would it could speak and tell us the strange language it has heard, and the scenes it has witnessed as it passed about among churls, thanes, and monks! Here is a case of relics found in “Rufus’s” tomb, containing some of the seven braids of Norman pattern which were found in it. One is well preserved. How exquisitely delicate! It is not a quarter of an inch in width. They embroidered finely then, and we hear that the young swells of the period were almost effeminate in their attire. Silken robes with gold borders descending to the feet must have looked quite “Celestial.”

We emerged from the Cathedral by the south door. The green sward before us did not exist before Henry VIII.’s time, as the space was filled by a “garth” surrounded with cloisters. The inferiority of the ornamentation of the Cathedral on this side when compared with the other is due to the junction with these buildings. Bishop Horne destroyed them, because he wished to be in keeping with the times. Cromwell demolished nine prebendal houses and the deanery.

We now passed through the tunnel at the extremity of the south transept, and proceeding beyond the eastern end of the Cathedral saw a wall in front of us bounding the precincts, and in it a small arch now filled up. Through this we fancy we can see the piquant figure of Nell Gwynne passing, for it is said to have been made to enable her to have access to the Deanery, where Charles was wont to stay. When Ken was a prebendary here he stoutly refused to give up his house to her, and it is one of many instances of Charles’ good humour that when the bishopric of Bath and Wells fell vacant, he appointed “the good little man who refused his lodging to poor Nell.” There was a small building (long removed) put up for her to the south of the Deanery, called Nell Gwynne’s Tower, but she had a house through the arch above mentioned. Until lately its broad staircases were the admiration of the people in Colebrook Street, but it has disappeared within the last few years, and its site is occupied by an establishment of chimney sweeps! Thus:--

“Golden lads and lasses must Like chimney-sweepers come to dust.”

Returning to the cloisters’ site we observe on the east some ruinous remains of the chapter-house. It was twenty-five or thirty feet wide by twice that in length, an ancient form which existed before the more beautiful circular chapter-houses were adopted.

On the south of this stands the Deanery, entered by three remarkably acute arches of Henry III.’s time. Under these the Dean has placed, for the benefit of the public, some of the Roman tesselated pavement found in 1880 in Dome Alley. The wayfarer can also see in the red-brick wing on the east the handsome Perpendicular window which once stood at the end of the prior’s hall. The Deanery has been almost entirely built inside this hall. It may surprise some to hear that this magnificent building, dating from 1460, still exists in a perfect state. Of the rooms constructed in it the largest is the drawing-room, thirty feet long and fourteen high, with old mullioned and trefoil-headed windows. The height of the hall was about forty feet, and the length nearly seventy. In the bedrooms the carved roof timbers and corbels, with heads cut on them, are in wonderful preservation. The wing of red brick, of which I have spoken, was built for Charles II.’s accommodation; and in his time the Deanery staircase seems to have been constructed, where there was formerly a courtyard in the house. The prior’s hall could be easily restored, and if the work were effected in the time of the present dean, it would form a suitable memorial of the taste and learning of that eminent antiquary.

Evelyn records an edifying conversation which took place in this house when he was here shortly after the death of Charles II. James was then here:--

“His Majesty was talking with the bishop concerning miracles and the Saludadors in Spain, who would creep into heated ovens without hurt. His Majesty said he doubted about miracles. The bishop added a miracle wrought in Winchester to his certain knowledge--a poor miserably sick and decrepit child (long kept unbaptized) recovered immediately after baptism--as also the salutary effect of King Charles’ blood in healing one that was blind. They then spoke of second sight. The King spoke of relics which had effected cures, especially a piece of our Saviour’s Cross, which had healed a gentleman’s rotten nose by only touching. The bishop blessed the King for insisting on having the negroes in the plantations christened.”

The Deanery faces the Close, which formerly had the pleasant name of “Mirabel,” and we crossed it to the Pilgrims’ Hall.

[Sidenote: Ornaments.]

The northern part of this building is now the dean’s stable--the form of it can therefore be well seen. The commencement of the massive beams supporting the roof is visible in the lower part of the stable, while in the loft the arches themselves remain adorned with heads. These carvings are much injured by time--one of the faces seems to represent a nun or priest, and another with a curly beard, perhaps a king. This woodwork dates from 1280, and we hope its fine effect was appreciated by the travellers who occupied and had fires lit in it. The other half of the building is in the adjoining house (Canon Durst’s) where the beams are still visible, but without carving. The latter residence was built by Warden Nicholas about two hundred years ago, and has over the staircase some fine festoons of large flowers in stucco.

Crossing over to the western side of the precincts we find No. 10 to be an old thirteenth-century building, said to have been part of the convent refectory.[92] Beneath it there is still a kitchen, a grand hall with three round pillars and a groined roof. The massive oak dresser-board remains resting on two carved stone supports. Though worked almost into holes, its hardness has preserved it to be a curious relic. When Richard Cœur de Lion returned from his foreign imprisonment, the grand coronation dinner was here prepared for him.[93]