IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER AN ANTHOLOGY IN PROSE & VERSE ,/L THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER CONSTABLE'S ANTHOLOGIES UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME Demy &vo. Six Shillings net per Vol. IN PRAISE OF OXFORD. An Anthology of Oxford and Oxford Life in Prose and Verse. By THOMAS SECCOMBK (Balliol College) and H. SPENCER SCOTT (New College). VOL. I : OXFORD HISTORY AND OXFORD TOPOGRAPHY. VOL. II : OXFORD SOCIETY ; LIFK AND MANNERS. IN PRAISE OF EDINBURGH. By Miss ROSALINE MASSON. IN PRAISE OF CAMBRIDGE. By SYDNEY WATERLOW, M.A. 5*. net. IN PRAISE OF AUSTRALIA. By FLORENCE GAY. IN PRAISE OF SWITZERLAND. By HAROLD SPENDER. Other volumes to follow. IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER AN ANTHOLOGY IN PROSE AND VERSE COMPILED BY A. AUDREY LOCKE LONDON CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LTD. 10 ORANGE ST. LEICESTER SQUARE W.C. 1913 DA FOREWORD WINCHESTER, though she has undergone many vicissitudes, has never before been ' anthologised.' This is my justification for gathering together material 'in praise of Winchester.' This, and my love for her. No attempt has, of course, been made to give a complete suggestion of the history of Winchester by means of the chosen excerpts. That would involve, hi the early centuries, at least, a history of England. I have simply caught at a few echoes. It may be objected that some of them are not harmonious echoes j that is to say, are not ' literature.' To this I would answer that the connotation of the term ' anthology,' although its natural limits cover only ' a collection of the flowers of verse,' has been so widely extended that it might even be used to describe a collection of political speeches. In dealing with ' Winchester in fiction,' it will be seen that I have rejected the whole-hearted identification of Anthony Trollope's Barchester with Winchester. Here and there he has certainly introduced a memory of Winchester, as for instance in the description of what is obviously St. Swithun's Church, disguised as ' St. Cuthbert's,' in The Warden. However, a careful study of The Warden, Barchester Towers, and the Last Chronicle of Barset shows the topography to be rather that of Salisbury than Winchester. Moreover, we know from Trollope's Autobiography that The Warden was conceived when wandering round the close of Salisbury Cathedral ' I visited Salisbury, 629891 vi IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER and whilst wandering there one midsummer evening round the purlieus of the Cathedral I conceived the story of The Warden, from whence came that series of novels of which Barchester with its bishops, deans and archdeacon, was the central site.' John Hiram, of ' Hiram's Hospital,' is probably John Halle, wool merchant of Salisbury, who built a banqueting-hall therein about 1470. The Hospital itself is identifiable with Trinity Hospital, Salisbury, founded in 1420 for twelve poor men. Thus, though in some of its details the description of the Hospital may suggest that of St. Cross, Winchester, the suggestion is not clear enough to warrant any quotation of it in an anthology of Winchester. I am conscious that in quoting details and anecdotes which concern some famous Wykehamists, I have neglected many well-known names, and have given only scant details where much might be told. I must plead in justification the contrast between the limits of a normal book and the infinite number of famous men among ' Wykeham's sons.' Of Winchester herself little need be said here ; perhaps this gathering of extracts may serve not only to recall Winchester to those who already love and understand her, but also to awaken something of that love and understanding in those who have not yet learnt her secret. She, like Oxford, throws her spell over her children, enchanting them with her memories and her moods, as she stays, quietly brooding among her river valleys and her downlands, gazing, Demeter-like, across the centuries. A. A. L. HAMPSTEAD, July 1912. CONTENTS BOOK I PART I A ROYAL CITY ' Winchester, that grand scene of ancient learning, piety , and munificence.* WILLIAM COBBETT, Rural Rides. ECHOES OF HISTORY PAGE I. Memories. Venta A city of memories Serene old age Our royal town Past times The stream of ages A quiet city The old white city City tables The tomb of empires ' Redolent with the atmosphere of ancient times,' .... 3 2. Pre-Norman Times. The Hudibras myth Mythical builders The city walls The Emperor Claudius besieges Winchester Roman Winchester Fighting near the city Venta Belgarum The myth of King Arthur King Arthur's Round Table His court Itchen vaunteth herself King Arthur's Hall Egbert 'A Mecca' 'The Hethene' destroy Winchester ' The fell Dane' The Saxon metropolis Ancient glory A leader in learning King Alfred's book 'The breaker of the Dane' In Hyde Meadow Guy of Warwick The Danemark Wyn- chester, the ryche towne Ethelwulf Edward the Elder Edwy Edgar The ordeal of Queen Emma The reconciliation of Edward the Confessor and Queen Emma, ... 9 3. Mediaeval Ways. The Book of Winchester Earl Waltheof be- headed The death of Rufus His burial Henry I. made king Winton Domesday Allegiance to Empress Matilda She be- sieges Winchester The praises of the city Second coronation of Richard I. William Marshall the younger besieges Winchester The King of France repairs the city walls Fair Winchester The days of our forefathers, . .... 26 viii IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER PACE 4. Tudora and Stuarts. The Spanish marriage Good Queen Bess ' Favorers of thold supersticion ' Expenses of a sixteenth- century judge of assize Unwelcome visitors Fear of the plague James I. at Winchester The trial of Sir Walter Ralegh The scene The accused Winchester ' beares up her head ' During the Civil War Cromwell besieges Winchester The Restoration Charles ll.'s palace Charles li.'s visit The new creation Charles II. and Thomas Ken 'Like some calm ghost' 'In one hallowed pile* Izaak Walton James II. at Winchester, . 40 5. Later Days. 'A genteel congregation' French prisoners George III. at Winchester Winchester Assizes The city in 1829 A warlike city A Winchester surgeon A poetical pro- logue 'No nursery of fools' To the Muses The coming of the Prince of Wales George v. at Winchester, . , .54 II. TOPOGRAPHY i. 'Grey City of Eternal Towers.'' O mother of our golden hours ' 'Pillowed on meadow and hill' One of the first to be peopled Fourteenth-century Winchester 'That joly cite' 'A body without a soul ' ' In a pleasant bottom ' ' An air of antiquity ' Looking from 'Hills' The second Earl of Oxford at Win- chester Horace Walpole disappointed Dr. Johnson at Win- chester Jane Austen in College Street Keats at Winchester ' An exceeding pleasant town ' ' The pleasantest town I ever was in ' ' Sixpence a pint ' ' Not one loom ' The Eve of St. Mark A daily walk ' Maiden-lady-like ' ' As quiet as a lamb ' Winchester stubble-fields 'The taste of ancient kings' The city in 1850 This wonderful treasury High charges and low bows Coach v . Railway Famous for a bishop ! . 6l 2. Familiar Landmarks. A Winchester garden The Itchen By lichen's banks Father Itchen A Sonnet Samlet in the Itchen 'The King's House ' Fanny Burney visits it The County Hall Horace Walpole and the King's House Winchester Castle The Soke Bridge Wolvesey Palace in 1738 ' Wolvesey's ruined pile' The Butter Cross 'Its Gothic market-cross' 'Grey landmark of forgotten time' From St. Giles's Hill 'That white cliff' 'Seint Gyles doune' 'Winchestre Faire' The humbled Mayor St. Catherine's Winchester from ' Hills ' Mons Catharinae 'Thou grassy steep' 'On the brink of that huge foss ' St. Cross ' Amid sunny hills ' An ideal of charity ' Pious roofs' Henry de Blois Emerson at St. Cross St. Cross in the Fifties 'Restorations' in Winchester A kind retreat St. Swithun's church St. Cuthbert's, Barchester The Russian gun Winter around Winchester Taverns, ... 80 CONTENTS ix PAGE 3. Winchester in Fiction. ' Wintoncester ' Esmond meets his ' dear mistress ' in Winchester Cathedral Esmond spends New Year's Eve at Winchester Cock-fighting ' The Black Swan' 'Old Bob' 'Whipping us up Parnassus' Example is better than precept, ........ 107 PART II THE CATHEDRAL ' That most beautiful cathedral in Europe' WARD BEECHER. i. The Venerable Pile. 'A giant massy pile' 'The cathedrale chirch ' ' Grand and solemn' ' The vast and venerable pile' The Close 'The grey cathedral' 'The grey, fortress-like cathedral' Seen from the King's House The temple The sense of awe The venerable pile 'A fatherly and ancient sovereign' Win- chester and Salisbury Cathedrals compared, . . .115 2. St. Swithun. The city of the saints Seynt Swithun 'Twice twenty days' St. Swithun the rainy St. Swithun mends the eggs Wentane urbisque decorem The humble saint, . . 123 3. Founders' Tombs. ' That most beautiful Cathedral in Europe' ' Praesul praegratus ' ' Largiis erat dapifer ' At the tomb of Wykeham, . . . . . . .130 4. Cathedral Music. Winchester music in the eleventh century ' The magic soother,' . . . . . 133 5. Some Visitors, etc. John Evelyn A visit (1738) The ' smugness ' of the cathedral John Wesley Fanny Burney Emerson Greville A Dean A minor Canon The pepper-box A viru- lent preacher, . . . . . . 135 x IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER BOOK II THE COLLEGE ' Coneinamus, O Soda Its I ' SCHOOL DAYS AND SCHOOL WAYS PACK I . The Genius Loci. Quidsilemus ' Learning's best beloved home ' 'That loveliness of thine ' ' Poore scholers ' Five centuries at Winchester The Wykehamist's Mecca 'O stately mother' Reserve and reticence Fifty years ago A tribute from the poet Whitehead A dedication, . . . . . 145 2. College Constitution. Zte Collegia Numbers in College Mysteri- ous meaning in the numbers Firt peal School Unruly Fellows Three absolute rulers The old order changeth, . 154 3. Commoners. A founder of old Commoners The debt of Com- moners to Wykeham The supposed adventures of a gentleman Commoner in the eighteenth century The real adventures of a gentleman Commoner in the eighteenth century Lord Elcho at Winchester, . . . . . . .159 4. The Making of Men. ' The blubb'ring youth ' The coming of the Posers The arrival of a ' candlestick ' The ordeal The making of a man To a candidate for elections' Stuckling,' . . 170 5. Bnchanted Years. 'That was to live' The College Junior Schooldays Jane Austen's humour, .... 177 6. Chapel. Second peal Evening chapel 'Their brief and winged prayer" The Jesse Window Winchester College chapel On being late for chapel, . . . . . .182 7. Night in College. In Chamber Court The hour of prayer A brave example Night in 'chambers,' . . . .187 8. 'Hllli.' Juga viridantia' Morning Hills' 'Evening Hills,' . 190 9. Bathing in Itchen. Bathing and Poaching Drowned in ' Pot ' ' Milkhole ' and ' Pot ' The junior's christening, , . ., 195 10. Domum. A legend of Domum Cotuinamtts, sodaks! Ad meos 'The strain of joy and liberty' Domum night Honour- ing Saint Mary of Winton Reminiscences of a Domum Ball To hear Dulce Domum sung, ..... 199 CONTENTS xi PACK ii. Games. Winchester v. Eton A win for Winchester Sixes A Health to Houses Six Fifteens Walt Whitman watches Fifteens The sprite of Winton football' Pruff Ridding,' . 208 12. Fagging and Flogging. To the 'Fag' ' Fagging 'Fagging defended Ode to a Ground Ash Flogging at Winchester 'A mere form ' Vtneris lux sanguinoknta ' Birch in thine aveng- ing hand,' . . . . . . .215 13. 'Noctes Shaksperianae.' Prologue to Otway's Monimia To Venice Preserved A Shakspeare Society A tale of 'John Des.' Prologue to Macbeth F. R. Benson and his 'strolling players' College Tow- Row, . ., . . , 220 14. Town v. Gown. A great riot A formidable thing A foolish riot Town v. Gown, c. 1800, . . . . . 227 15. Royalties and Medals. George m.'s visit An epigram To the Prince of Wales (1797), .... . . 230 MANNERS AND MEN I. Tne Founder. Pater Collegii'Thy Colleges stand fast' The name of Wykeham Founder's Day ' A bishop great ' Manners makyth man The glories of Wykeham An invocation ' Winton's brooding wing ' A boisterous song, . . 232 2. The Second Founder. A triumphant progress ' Patient Con- tender for the True and Just ' ' The Peg ' ' The Peg ' in fiction ' Must thou go ? ' ..... 240 3. A Warden and some Headmasters. 'Tupto' William Ives Dr. Joseph Warton A defence of Dr. Warton On the death of Dr. Warton Gabell and ' Gaffer,' . . . .244 4. Some Famous Wykehamists. Wykeham's sons Public schools vindicated Collins Collins at Winchester ' Poor dear Collins' 'A man too soon' Sydney Smith Sydney Smith's mother Thomas Arnold 'Poet Arnold' A diligent student Goddard and Arnold Dean Hook at Winchester William Page Wood, Lord Hatherley Roundell Palmer, first Earl of Selborne Anthony Trollope Matthew Arnold Archbishop Whately and Wykehamists E. D. A. M., . . . 250 5. ' That Rascal Tom.' ' That rascal Tom ''A son of the Muses' On the death of Thomas Warton, .... 266 6. Varieties. The Trusty Servant 'This emblematic figure well survey' A dialogue The twin substitute A 'varying' Im- liiatura morte peremptus Tr^ttire Mother Gumbrell ' Damme Hopkins' 'Octo' Boiled beef ' Speedyman' The vagaries of time, ........ 267 arii IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER AVE ATQOE VALE PAGB ' Farewel ' On leaving Looking backward Passing out Matri WUcamicat Adream of Winchester days Nos duUia linquimus arva The wail of an old Wykehamist Ave atque vale A true good-bye Domum night Vale, Domum night, 1907 Ad Arnicas To every Wykehamist, ..... 276 INDEX, ......... 289 NOTE I HAVE much pleasure in acknowledging my indebtedness to several authors and publishers for their kindness in allowing me to use copyright matter in this volume. Among others, I have especially to thank the following: Mrs. William Allingham and Messrs. Longmans, Green, and Co. for passages from William Allingham's Varieties in Prose ; Mr. F. Bumpus and Mr. T. Werner Laurie for a passage from The Cathedrals of England and Wales ; the Hon. Evan Charteris for passages from Lord Elcho's Affairs in Scotland (David Douglas); Sir A. Conan Doyle for a passage from 'The Copper Beeches ' in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (George Newnes) ; Mr. R. C. K. Ensor for two verses from his poem ' At School ' ; Mr. Arundell Esdaile for his poem 'The Breaker of the Dane'; Mr. Griffyth Fairfax and Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. for Mr. Fair- fax's poem ' Winchester ' ; Mr. W. H. Jacob for a passage from his paper on ' The Westgate of Winchester ' ; Mr. E. H. Lacon Watson for passages from Christopher Deane (John Murray), and Verses (A. D. Innes and Co.) ; Mr. C. D. Locock and the St. Catherine's Press for a passage from Mr. Locock's ' Ballade of Red Tape ' ; the Rev. W. Moore for passages from his poem Venta (David Nutt); Mr. Montagu J. Rendall, Headmaster of Winchester College, for his poems ' College Tow Row, 1907,' ' E.D.A.M.,' and 'Ad Amicos '; Lady Laura Ridding and Mr. Edward Arnold for passages from George Ridding, Schoolmaster and Bishop ; Mr. R. W. Seton- Watson for three poems from Scotland for Ever (David Douglas); Mrs, Wood Stephens and Messrs. Macmillan and Co. for passages from Dean Wood Stephens's Life of Dean Hook, and Memoir of Lord Hatherley; Mrs. T. A. Trollope and Messrs. Macmillan and Co. for passages from T. A. Trollope's What I Remember. Also I have to thank Messrs. George Allen and Co. for passages from Memorials of Old Hampshire (Bemrose and Son); Mr. Edward Arnold for passages from a poem by Mr. E. D. A. Morsehead in Winchester College, 1399-1899; Messrs. A. and C. Black for xiv IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER passages from Wessex by Clive Holland, and Winchester by the Rev. Telford Varley; Messrs. William Blackwood and Son for passages from Anthony Trollope's Autobiography; Messrs. Chatto and Windus for a passage from Mr. A. C. Ewald's Life and Times of Prince Charles Stuart ; Messrs. Longmans, Green and Co. for passages from Dean Kitchin's Winchester (Historic Towns Series) ; Messrs. Macmillan and Co. for a passage from Mr. Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D' Urbervilles ; Mr. Elkin Mathews for verses from ' Winchester ' by Lionel Johnson in Ireland and Other Poems ; Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner and Co. for passages from ' Evening Hills ' in the Rev. W. Moore's New Poems ; Messrs. Isaac Pitman and Sons for passages from Canon Benham's 'Winchester Cathedral' in Our Old Minsters (Isbister and Co.); Messrs. P. and G. Wells for full permission to quote from The Wykehamist, and for passages from A. R. Bramston and A. C. Leroy's A City of Memories, and for poems from J. L. Crommelin- Brown's Poems and Parodies, and A. P. Herbert's Poor Poems and Rotten Rhymes. Further, I have to thank the Editors of the Daily Graphic, the Daily News, the Illustrated London News, and the Victoria County History for passages from articles in their publications. I sincerely trust that in this list I have not, inadvertently, left any kindness unrecognised. A. A. L. BOOK I PART I A ROYAL CITY ECHOES OF HISTORY i. MEMORIES O Venta ! Caer Gwent I great and glad Venta Wast thou, ere Saxon yeoman, Ere nobler Normandy's mailed bowman, Saw thee : Apollo had His temple bright Of song and light, Here, when the world was Roman. And wert thou Camelot ? Wert thou That shrine of all things knightly ? Through the dark shrouding mists, how brightly Those glories flash forth now ! High chivalry, Fair courtesy, Enriching Winton rightly. Surely the magic of the Celt, White City, doth not fail thee Whatever change and chance assail thee, Still is that spirit felt : That ancient grace Still haunts thy face ; And long may it avail thee. IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Where reigned Apollo, Wykeham trod, Child of a Saxon peasant : Surely, Apollo still was present, The old world's goodliest god : Light's king, and songs, His reign prolongs, Throned in a place so pleasant. On this trenched hill, new come from sea, The robber Danes have clustered ; On yonder hill, have Roundheads mustered, Oliver's Battery : Oh ! blade and ball, And crossbow, all Down lichen vale have blustered ! Lionel Johnson. 1 Winchester,' in Ireland and other Poems. Elkin Matthews, 1897. A City of Memories IT is no small thing to live in a city of memories where, not here and there, but at every turn, the past is brought before us. . . . Non nobis nati, not for ourselves are we born, and Win- chester, of all the cities in England, owes its greatest debt of gratitude to the past. A. R. Bramston and A. C. Leroy. A City of Memories. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1893. ' Serene old age' To have been the capital of Wessex, to have welcomed in her early days the arrival of every prince and prelate of great name, for a while to have been the chief city of England, the home of the great Alfred, the refuge of letters, the mother of English public-school life these are the titles on which the city rests her high renown, and these the memories amidst which she OUR ROYAL TOWN 5 lives. Her ancient buildings, her many customs and usages of the past, her tranquil beauty and pleasant neighbourhood, give to the venerable city a right to the undying affection of all whose lot has fallen to them in such pleasant places. It is not in death, but in the beautiful tranquillity of serene old age, that Winchester reposes in her sweet green valley low down amidst the swelling hills that compass her about. No English city has a nobler record in the past, or a life more peaceful in our rushing, hasteful age. Dean Kitchin's Winchester (Hist. Towns Series). Longmans, Green and Co. HERE as the white road winds from off the down, our Royal We greet thee first, erewhile our royal town ! Roman and Celt of old long dwelt in thee, Till Saxon Cerdic's warriors from the sea Swept like a tempest o'er the land, and drave The Britons to the distant western wave, And this clear stream ran red with Celtic gore, And yon hill shouted with the din of war. Now ruby roofs o'erstud the emerald lands, And grey with age the giant Minster stands, And the fair chapel by the city wall, And Waltheof's scarped hill, o'ertopping all. Down this same road the holy prelate passed, Ere Eastern morn had crowned the Lenten fast ; Journeying from Waltham, o'er the hills, to found His stately college, where the grassy ground Scarce held her own amid the wildering maze Of chalky Itchen's myriad water-ways. Once more, when six long years of toil had flown, And hammer spake no more to wood and stone, Nor vaulted roof stood o'er the new-built shrine, Then rode our Founder by this self-same way. 6 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER To bless his college on her natal day. Yet once again he passed. Ah 1 sad and slow, His scholars saw the dark procession go ! Winding their way beneath their new-built home, Passing St. Swithin's Arch, they chanting come To the great Minster's forest of wrought stone, Where for all time the grave must keep her own. There in the honoured shrine he ever lies, Where all around the ghostly pillars rise, And shines the painted clerestory aglow With moonlight streaming to the floor below, Then kindle all the glimmering stones, and shed A dim mysterious glory round his head. R. A. Johnson. ' The Birthday of Winchester College,' in the Wykehamist, July 1893. Part times ' NOWHERE in England do the stones speak more eloquently of past times than in Winchester, the city of kings and of priests ; the city where religion flourished, and ecclesiastics fought with greater warmth than in any other of England's fair cities. Philistines there have been in the shape of Puritan soldiers who destroyed carving and effigies ; way wardens who mended the roads with stones taken from the massive city gates ; modern builders who run up cheap red brick tenements on the site of seventeenth-century houses or of time-honoured city walls, and all these have between them left England's first capital with but a small proportion of its ancient glory. And yet though the bishop's castle and the king's castle no longer tower over the surrounding houses, though the many convents and churches remain only in traditional sites even with what is left we can, helped by history and imagination, build up the past again, still hear the discord between king and bishop, bishop and prior. . . . A. R. Bramston and A. C. Leroy. A City of Memories. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1893. A QUIET CITY ; WHO suffereth not low care still to enfold His thought in narrow circle of to-day, But liveth to all time, will love to stray, WINTON, among thy stately piles of old, And read the tale, in moving language told By Druid and by Roman stone, and grey Monument of the Saxon's nobler sway, How fraught with wondrous change for thee hath rolled The stream of ages. . . . Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. A HALO of antiquity and romance surrounds the quiet city of the A Quiet city Itchen. . . . Winchester has played a most important part in the history of England. Centuries ago Rome's imperial legion- aries drove the light-armed Britons before them through its streets, and planted here one of their impregnable ' castra ' which dominated the surrounding country. A monk of Venta's cathedral departed hence to assume the imperial purple, 1 and to sway the sceptre which once held the world in awe. At the union of the Heptarchy, Winchester became the capital of England, holding that proud position henceforward for five hundred years, and here the first ' King of all England ' was crowned. From Winchester issued the Royal Edict which abolished all distinc- tions of nationalities in the kingdom, and here the people of England were first called ' English.' The grey cathedral has looked down on a long line of Saxon kings ending with Edward the Confessor, who within its walls received their crowns from the hands of the archbishops of the realm, and here lie the ashes of many of these kings. And although during the reign of the Norman and Plantagenet monarchs Winchester still held her own as a place of the greatest importance the castle-palace being the habitual residence of the monarch of England her glory waned before the growing power of London, and eventually she was entirely superseded by the latter city. From Winchester College Five Hundredth Anniversary, 1893. 1 The monk Constans. 8 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER me oid SEE, where below the Old White City lies, Calm, not decrepit, for her thousand years : Lightly they lie, as this morn's radiance, On all her darkened brickwork and she wears Green tints of summer, where the waters glance, And round her oratories And long grey masses of her central fane. She is just dreaming, as on Apennine Long Alba dreamed, and saw her race divine, The kings and pontiffs, in her streets again. On such a morn the silver clarions blew Through all her ways, to her great Minster-gate, For crowning of some young Plantagenet 5 Then when beneath the canopies of state The trefoils on their golden cirque were set Upon him ; and men knew On what far lands that mighty crown had sway. Yet midst its jewels, on that day of grace, One little kingdom had not found a place, Which still should last, when greater passed away. W. M. (i.e. William Moore.) From Anothev. 1 James Parker, Oxford, 1893. City Tables A CITY which ' hath given place of birth, education, baptism, marriage, michol-gemots, gemots, synods national and provincial, and sepulchre to more Kings, Queens, Princes, Dukes, Earls, Barons, Bishops, and Mitred Prelates, before the year of Our Lord 1239, than all the cities in England together could do. J From the ' City Tables.' The tomb of PAUSE, traveller, upon this tree-crowned hill, empires ' fa^ see w h e re England's capital of old Lies in yon vale, a royal city still. Within its mouldering walls thou mayest behold The tomb of empires : there the Druids hold 1 ' Anothen ' is the name of a spring on Twyford Down near Winchester. THE TOMB OF EMPIRES 9 Their gloomy reign of mystery, and fill The land with terror ; Rome did there unfold Her eagle banner, and ruled and taught her skill In arts and arms ! and in that city long Uther, with many a brave Armoric knight, Held court and tourney, and waged ceaseless fight With Saxons who next raised their empire strong, Shaken but not o'erthrown, by Norman or Dane, Whose graves alone yon Saxon walls retain. C. W., c. 1869. BEAUTIFULLY placed amidst the chalk hills of Hampshire, full 'Redolent of historic memories, and still in a measure redolent with the w j lth th atmosphere atmosphere of ancient times, Winchester stands to-day one of the of ancient most interesting of Wessex cities, as in Saxon times it was one times of the most important in the whole of England. Much has been written concerning Winchester and its history, but words after all prove but imperfect media by which to translate into actuality the beauty, interest, and sentiment which permeate an ancient town like this. Clive Holland. Wessex. A. and C. Black, 1906. 2. PRE-NORMAN WINCHESTER AFTER hym [Eboras] Lud-Hudybras, B.C. 892 So Eboras sone ycleped was, The Hudibras Hade this londe everuch del, Ant hyt yemede suythe wel ; He made Caunterbury anon, Ant other tounes moni on, Wynchestre and Schaftesburge Ther spac an era a prophecie, io IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Thre dawes and thre nyht, The prophecie he tolde riht : Wet in Englond schulde byfalle, That ther weren hit herden alle. Ancient English Metrical Romances (ed. Ritson), iii. 23. Mythical IT (Winchester) is said to have been first fortified with walls by Guidorius, A.D. 179, which were demolished in the civil wars of the West Saxon princes. The present walls are reported to have been erected by Moleutius Dunwallo, A.D. 341. On the south and east sides, for some distance, they remain entire ; and many fragments of them are continued to a considerable extent on the north and west, particularly to the westward, where are the ruins of a bastion called the Hermit's Tower, the external appearance of which denotes it to have been of considerable strength. The circumference of the walls is near two miles, to which originally belonged six gates, only one of which now remains, except a postern, called King's Gate, which gives its name to the street adjoining ; though Leland says that some ancient writers call it St. Michael's Gate, from St. Michael's Church, which stands near it. On the west, and on part of the north and south sides, is a foss of prodigious breadth and depth, which added considerable strength to the fortification ; but to the meadows, which were easily floated by the river, such a defence was thought unnecessary. A Winchester Guide, 1780. The city THE town of Winchester is by estimacion a mile dim. in cumpace Walls withyn the walles. The length of it lyeth from est to west ; the bredth from north to south. Ther be in the waulles vi gates, by est one ; by west an other ; the third by south ; the 4. by north. The 5. is caullid the Kinges Gate and is betwixt the south gate and Wolvesey the Bisshopes palace. ROMAN WINCHESTER n The 6. is bytwixt north gate and estgate, no great thing but a postern gate namid Bourne Gate. John Leland's Itinerary. CLAUDIUS the emperor . nolde noght gut bileue . c. A.D. 50. Gef he com mid is ost . in to this lond weue The Emperor . , . Claudius Aruirag at vinchestre mid is men was echon besieges With is poer the emperour . biseged him anon Winchester l Aruirag greithed him & is folc aboute . & wende worth to giue him . bataile withoute. Robert of Gloucester (Rolls Series), ii. 106. WINCHESTER, like all Roman or Romano-British towns, had its Roman square form of mural defences, with an entrance at each of the winchester cardinal points marked by a gate named thereafter. The West Gate had, doubtless, its Roman precursor, but all traces of this structure above ground have vanished ; Saxon, Norman, and Plantagenet erections and changes having swept them away. A few years ago a beautiful Aureus of Honorius was found within a few yards of the old gate, and it is remarkable that during the long years that the modern fossor has been at work for all sorts of foundations and improvements, not a single legionary tablet, or inscription, nor even evidence of auxiliary cohorts, has ever been found in this locality. W. H. Jacob. The West Gate of Winchester, Hants Field Club, iv. 51-59. AN erl ther was in this lond . octaui 2 was is name c. A.D. 366. Romeins that were here bileued he dude ofte ssame Fighting near PI i i. c. j.i. o j.i_ - u Winchester & slou vaste her & ther & that me ssolde vewe ise The brutons hii hin crounede tho hor king vor to be 1 See Geoffrey of Monmouth, from whose imaginative and legendary history the details of this story are culled. Aviragus is probably identical with Caractacus. 1 Octavius is said to be a certain Magnentius, of British family, who assassinated Constans, one of the sons of Constantine, and possessed himself of Britain and Gaul. 12 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Venta Belgarnm Tho this word com to constantin . he thoghte wat was to done Traen is moder vncle hider he sende sone With gret poer ynou to winne this kinedom . At an hauene bi southe this folc alonde com . The king was of horn iwar . agen horn he sette Bi side winchestre in a feld . to gadere hii horn mette Bataile hii smite ther . & to grounde slowe vaste So that octaui king aboue was atte laste & traen & moche of is folc ywounded ney to dethe. Robert of Gloucester (Rolls Series), i. 139. IT was, we may say, a country town like Calleva Atrebatum, perhaps a little larger, if the mediaeval walls represent the ancient area, perhaps a little more important, a little more in touch with Roman administrative life. But the picture is dim, at the best, and those who prefer clearness to truth have tried to add one bright definite feature. Winchester, as we are sometimes told, was the capital of that King Lucius who introduced Christianity into Britain in the second century ; the present cathedral stands on the site of the first Christian church built in Britain, and Constantine added a priestly college of which the rains are still visible. So far the tale, as old as the fifteenth-century monk of Winchester, Thomas Rudborne, and repeated as lately as the last edition of Milner's History. It is, of course, false. Lucius is mythical, as scholars of all denominations now agree : the Romano-British cathedral is a mere imagination : the supposed ruins of Constantine's college date in reality from the Decorated period of mediaeval architecture. Vestiges of Romano-British Christianity might well occur at Winchester, as at Silchester, but none have hitherto been discovered. F. Haverfield. ' Romano-British Hampshire,' Victoria County History, Hants, i. 293.' Th Myth of THE ancient castle of this city is celebrated, and has been cele- Arthur for some centuries past, as having been founded by the THE ROUND TABLE 13 renowned British king, Arthur, in the year 523. This, however, is a palpable error that has arisen from confounding the history of Caer Gwent, or Winchester, of Monmouthshire (an ancient city which has long been destroyed, and which appears to have been actually the residence of Arthur) with our city of the same name. The latter, at the time we are speaking of, namely, the reign of Arthur, was firmly and finally settled as the capital of the West Saxon kingdom under the victorious Cerdic. Historical and Descriptive Guide to Winchester, 1829. WHERE Venta's Norman castle still uprears King Arthur's Its rafter'd hall, that o'er the grassy foss, Eound Table And scatter'd flinty fragments clad in moss, On yonder steep in naked state appears ; High-hung remains, the pride of warlike years, Old Arthur's board ; on the capacious round Some British pen has sketched the names renown 'd In marks obscure, of his immortal peers. Though joined by magic skill, with many a rhyme, The Druid frame, unhonour'd falls a prey To the slow vengeance of the wizard Time, And fade the British characters away ; Yet Spenser's page, that chants in verse sublime Those chiefs, shall live, unconscious of decay. Thomas Warton. On King Arthur's Round Table at Winchester. HERE may Tradition's fairy tale unfold King Arthur's The courtly pageants of each baron bold, The skilful labour of some minstrel hoar, Snatch'd from the wreck of legendary lore, When fam'd St. Tristram deck'd good Arthur's Court, And knights romantic shone in vary'd sport ; When the glad youth rush'd forth to break the lance, To chase the wolf, or join the antic dance, Itchen vaunteth herself 4 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER And the fair damsels' all-subduing eyes Of tilts and tournaments bestow'd the prize : Or the brave equals round th' encircled board With blood-red wine and British viands stor'd, In native melody their prowess sang, While the arch'd roof with pealing plaudits rang. John WoolL The King's House, etc., 1793. AND for great Arthur's seat, her Winchester prefers, Whose old round-table yet she vaunteth to be hers j And swore, th' inglorious time should not bereave her right ; But what it would obscure, she would reduce to light. For, from that wondrous pond, whence she derives her head, And places by the way, by which she 's honoured, (Old Winchester, that stands near in her middle way, And Hampton, at her fall into the Solent sea). She thinks in all the isle not any such as she, And for a demigod she would related be. From Drayton's Polyolbion, Song n. Hall TUESDAY, October 24, 1738. King Arthur's NEAR the King's House stands an ancient large building which is called King Arthur's Hall. It is a good room, the length is better than one hundred and eight feet, the height I take it to be about thirty feet, there are five arches, each arch distant from one another eighteen feet. There is nailed up against the wall at the end of the hall a top of what they call King Arthur's Round Table, and the places marked where his knights sat. This I do not very strictly believe, but that there was a King Arthur and that he had many knights is most certain. The use that this room is now put to is a Court of Justice, which is made use of when the judges come their circuits to Winchester. A Journey through Hampshire in 1738, in the handwriting of the second Earl of Oxford, apparently addressed to his wife (Hist. MSS. Com., Duke of Portland's MSS.). A MECCA i THO com kyng Egbryth, Ant, wyth batayle ant fyht, Made al Englond yhol Falle to ys oune dol ; Ant sethe he reignede her Ahte ant tuenti folle yer : At Wynchestre lyggeth ys bon, Buried in a marble-ston. 1 Chronicle of England ' (written tempus Edward n.) in Ancient English Metrical Romances (ed. Ritson), vol. iii. Egbert SURELY Winchester, which preserves the bones of him who first A Mecca strove for and successfully realised the conception of national unity, should be the Mecca for all true devotees of Great or Greater Britain. Rev. Telford Varley. Winchester. A. and C. Black, 1910. Ac at ssirebourne he [^)thelbald, 857-60] was ybured & is brother adelbright [^Ethelbert, 860-6] This kinedom adde after him as lawe was & right Bi is daye the worre com of the hethene men wel prout In hampte ssire & destraede wincestre al out & that folc of hamtessire hore red tho nome & of barcessire & foghte & the ssrewen ouercome. Robert of Gloucester (Rolls Series), i. 384. The Hethene ' destroy Winchester HERE the fell Dane, by eager havoc led, Swift desolation o'er the city spread : His Raven standard from the turret wav'd Of the sole edifice his plunder sav'd, And, mocking still the fame of British might, Defy'd the royal Ethelbert in fight. John Wooll. The King's House, a poem, 1793. 'The fell Dane' i6 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The Saxon Metropolis Ancient glory IN ijio place, perhaps, has this Genius Loci of monastic life more safely maintained its habitation than in the Saxon metropolis of England, the venerable and ancient Winchester ; it is impos- sible to visit it, in spite of the unsparing violences of the Reforma- tion, without feeling that you are still in the visionary presence of abbots and priors, with all their collegiate brotherhoods about you. It looks the undoubted abode of monastic communities ; the stillness of the cell is felt, and hangs about every quarter of it ; its High Street and place of frequence is solemnised by a holy cross of lofty and venerable architecture ; you tread upon the foundation and fragments of ancient buildings in every open field and garden of the city ; the few people you meet abroad ; the quietness throughout the town, disturbed by no movements of trade or pleasure, preserve to every street an atmosphere of devotion ; the stillness of a daily Sabbath is upon them ; the narrowness and obscurity of many of them give an impression not unlike the vague notion we have of the solitary dimness of cloistral residence. The low valley in which the city is placed, its rich meadows and its glassy streams of delicious water, speak of ecclesiastical abundance and enjoyment, and the very trout that are everywhere poised motionless in the river, or shooting their way, sportful or scared, through the green weed, seem to have a reference to Catholic days, and the obligations to peculiar food which the religious discipline of the place and the times required. Charles Townsend. Winchester and a Few Other Compositions, 1842. WHITE city of old time, whose turrets hoary, With moss o'ergrown, mourn sad and silently Over thy fallen grandeur ; doom'd to be, Like all that is earth-born, so transitory, Still the grey shadow of thy ancient glory, Hovering around thy ruins, throws o'er thee A time-wrought mantle of mild radiancy, Imaging forth thy sadly pleasing story. KING ALFRED 17 Oft 'neath thy walls, the lone hour to beguile, I 've wandered musing by the crystal stream, Perchance whose soft sweet murmurings erewhile Lull'd Alfred's listening soul in many a dream Of vision'd greatness, bidding his lov'd isle, Nursed by his care, with countless blessings teem. Quoted in Prouten's Hist, and Descrip. Guide to Winchester, c. 1850. WINCHESTER, again, was not only the strongest city, the royal A leader in residence, the seat of the principal bishopric, and the usual learnn & meeting-place of the Witan, but also the leader in learning. In Wolvesey Palace was a school of learning and art. It was here that King Alfred began, and for many years even wrote with his own hand the English Chronicle, the first great history-book of the English, the mother of a magnificent line of literature. Meanwhile the city was growing in splendour, as it was under- stood then. The group of the three great minsters the Old Minster, now the cathedral ; the New Minster, founded by Alfred, almost adjoining it on the north ; and the Nun's Minster, a little eastwards, near the Town Hall must have been one of the most striking groups then to be seen, not only in England, but in all Eur P e - G. E. Jeans. Memorials of Old Hampshire. Bemrose and Son, 1906. AND of the bishops also King Alfred's The clerks kept record. Chronicles, it is called, a big book. The English went about collecting it. Now it is thus authenticated ; So that at Winchester, in the cathedral, There is the true history of the kings, And their lives and their memorials. King Alfred had it in his possession, i8 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER And had it bound with a chain. Who wished to read, might well see it, But not remove it from its place. L'estoire des Engles solum la translation Maistrt Geffrei Gaimar (Rolls Series), ii. 76. 1 The breaker LIES he here, the breaker of the Dane ? of the Dane This was his New Minster once, where mere Ruined gate and little low-towered plain Grey church of the Servitors remain : King and Founder, lies he here ? Long is fallen that house of his desire, God's eternal House ; the columns' range Springs no more about the vaulted choir ; Waste and lost is all by axe and fire, Spoiled by Time and Fate and Change. Nothing royal here : rough turf alone Clothes the slope and, past the straggling hedge, Raw red streets of brick and slate are grown ; Only at our feet this doubtful stone, Nameless, at the town's mean edge, Marks his half-remembered dust. But he, Had we faith to follow, now as then, Still might lead us, and, from sea to sea, This our England that he brought to be Still be nurse of Englishmen. Yet, though terror of the Dane no more Vex us, passage of a thousand years Finds us standing as we stood before, Waiting still upon our island shore Vision of our formless fears THE BREAKER OF THE DANE 19 Gazing still across the sea for Fate. Is not his, the teacher's, help our need, While our enemies within the gate, Gathering thick behind us, causeless hate, Fear, and ignorance, and greed, Sick mistrust, the politician's art, Sloth, and ever unfulfilled delay, Jealousy, that draws our ranks apart, Wavering purpose, and unquiet heart, Plot to ruin and betray ? We can face them, scatter them like foam Blown to landward, mighty though they seemed, Then upon this rock-base of our home Build Man's holier eternal Rome, Truer than the Saxon dreamed. Arundell Esdaile. ' On the so-called Tomb of King Alfred, by the Church of St. Bartholomew, Hyde, Winchester,' 1912. Oct. 30, 1825. How . . . am I to describe what I felt, when I yesterday saw in Hyde in HYDE MEADOW, A COUNTY BRIDEWELL standing on the Meadow very spot, where stood the abbey which was founded and endowed by Alfred, which contained the bones of that maker of the English name, and also those of the learned monk, ST. GRIMBALD, whom ALFRED brought to England to begin the teaching at Ox f rd ! William Cobbett. Rural Rides. THE Danish Gyant Colebrand in Hyde-meads, Guy of By Guy the Earle of Warwick was struck dead. Warwick. John Taylor, the Water-poet. A Memoriall of Monarchs. 20 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER A.D. 927. SAXONS ! the Dane is at the gate ! The D*ne- LQ Athelstan, your monarch, calls. mark 1 They rush to impose impending fate, And drive the spoilers from the walls. Old Winton's battlements are strong, And stout hearts may defend them long. For many a day, in battle dread, The Northman poured his blood in vain, Till, sickening of the strife, he said : ' Let one brave Saxon with one Dane His prowess prove the victor's sword Shall to his king the palm award.' There was a warrior, Colbrand hight, Among the Danes, of lion limb, And of a more than human height : To be their champion chose they him ; Deeming no Saxon in the land Could such a mighty foe withstand. Fain was the king the strife to end With victory at a single blow, But he no warrior durst to send Against the giant Danish foe : And while no champion did appear, The Danes ceased not to scoff and jeer. 1 See Liber de Hyda (Rolls Series). The city had been besieged two years by the Danes ; finally a single combat was to decide the victory. Colbrand, the Danish giant, engaged with Guy, Earl of Warwick, the Saxon champion. Guy, assisted by a friendly crow, who fluttered about Colbrand, was victorious. The combat took place near Hyde Abbey, the site still being called Danemark ; Athelstan watched it from a turret in the city wall, known until the nineteenth century, when it was destroyed, as Athelstan 's chair. GUY OF WARWICK 21 Much grieved the king that brave Sir Guy Had journeyed to the Holy Land, For well might he that Dane defy j None could his vigorous arm withstand. Sad went the king that night to bed, But by a dream was comforted. He heard a voice of angel say : ' Rise, king, and seek the eastern gate ; l There shalt thou meet a palmer grey, To him entrust thy country's fate.' Up rose the king, and long ere dawn, Unto the eastern gate was gone. Who yonder in the glimmering light, In palmer's weeds, draws slowly nigh ? The king is mad with wild delight } He welcomes home his faithful Guy. Soon enter they the city gates, And the glad king the war relates. Then said the king : ' To front this Dane Take thou the sword of Constantine, And the good spear of Charlemagne, Shall in this holy fight be thine ; May heaven direct both spear and sword To rid us of this savage horde ! ' On Athelstan's best steed the knight Rode forth to meet his foeman grim, And anxious crowds to view the fight Of gallant Saxons followed him, And priest, and sire, and lady fair, . Breathed for him many an ardent prayer. 1 The metrical Romance of Guy of Warwick (Early English Text Society), from which most of the facts given in this indifferent poem are gathered, indicates the north gate ; ' And go vnto the northe gate.' 22 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Upon a steed that panted sore Came the huge Colbrand to the field ; A ponderous battle-axe he bore, That, save himself, no man could wield. Sneering, he cried, ' And art thou he That fears not to encounter me ? ' ' My sword shall answer,' Guy replied. The trumpets blew he struck amain His spurs into his courser's side. God speed thee, lance of Charlemagne ! Dire was the shock, but vain the stroke, The spear in thousand splinters broke On Colbrand's shield with treble might, The furious Dane his axe then raised, Deeming that blow would end the fight. Guy's helm the weapon lightly grazed, But laid the king's proud courser dead, A bleeding trunk, with severed head. The Danes loud shouted Colbrand threw Aside his axe, and seized a mace Of spiked iron, and Guy drew His sword, with that and shield to face His giant foe. -May power divine Assist the sword of Constantine ! Then not a breath was heard around As the mace fell with thunder stroke ; Though Guy escaped it with light bound, His shield it all to fragments broke. Loud yelled their joy the Danish host, And all the Saxon's hope was lost. THE DANEMARK 23 Yet Guy, eluding every blow, Still with his sword the giant stung, Till, foaming with fierce ire, the foe High in the air his weapon swung With might and main. With sudden dread The Saxons deemed their champion dead. Guy leaped aside, unscathed, the Dane With the rash force of his fell aim, Let fall his mace ; and to regain His ponderous arm, stooped low. Up came Sir Guy, with light step, and his brand Cut off the giant Dane's right hand. And now the Saxons raised a cry Of triumph, while in blank despair The Danes were mute. Then cried Sir Guy To Colbrand : ' I thy life will spare If thou wilt yield thee to my sword, And the Danes own our English lord.' No answer made the wrathful foe, But with his left hand seized the mace, And strove to deal another blow, But strove in vain : scarce could he pace With reeling step the soil, his strength Fast ebbing with his blood at length Guy, more in pity than in ire, Pierced to the heart the hapless Dane The baffled enemy retire, And Athelstan in peace may reign. Then to his royal lord's abode The brave Sir Guy in triumph rode. Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. 24 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The Ryche AND blythe ys Kyng Adelston And hys barons euerychone, There they toke Syr Gye And lad hym forthe, sekurlye, To Wynchestur, the ryche towne. The Romance of Guy of Warwick (Early Engl. Text Soc.) Etheiwuif Ax the hyde of Wynchestre Were his bones don in cheste. From 'Chronicle of England,' in Ancient Metrical Romances (ed. Ritson), vol. iii. Edward the EDWARD reignede her Vour ant tuenti yer ; At Wynchestre liggeth ys bon, Buried in a marbre ston. Ibid. Edwy HE reignede foure yer, To Wynchestre me him ber. Ibid. Edgar HERE the hot king, 1 whose unrequited lust O'er his once valu'd friend in vengeance burst, And paid his faith once stain'd with forfeit life, Who stabb'd the husband, and then won the wife, First claim'd the fair Elfrida as his own, And, propp'd by crafty monks, his vicious throne. John Wooll. The King's House, a poem, 1793. 1 The story here referred to is the romance concerning Elfrida, told by William of Malmesbury (Gesta Regum, Rolls Series, 165). See Freeman, Historical Essays, i. 15. Earl Ethelwald being sent to see the beautiful Elfrida on behalf of Edgar, fell in love with her himself and married her. Edgar afterwards discovering his treachery, slew him in a wood near Winchester, and married Elfrida himself. The author of the poem states that Edgar was crowned in Winchester Castle. The more general belief is that he was not crowned until late in his reign, and then at Bath (see various chroniclers). QUEEN EMMA'S ORDEAL 25 HIRE riche clothes were of ydo . bote that heo was bi weued The ordeal Hire bodi with a mantel a wimpel aboute hire heued . EmmsTat Hire legges bare binethe the kne that me mighte ech stape ise Winchester A wey vuele bicom it quene so bar uor to be Me broghte vorth this fury ssares . and leide is al arewe In the bar erthe isuope . godes grace to ssewe The bissopes blessede the ssares and the quene al so And ladde ire uorth in either alf . this judgement to do The quene thoghte al on god an to heuene caste ire eye And ne lokede nothing donward . & as hii alle yseie Heo stap upe this furi yre euerich stape al clene Nuste heo hire sulf hou it was ne bleincte noght ene . Ther was ioye & blisse ynou & moni a wepinde eye Verst uor fere & suthe vor Ioye tho hii this iseye The bissopes that hire ladde vor ioye wepe al so & herede god & sein swithin tho this miracle was ydo And ladde ire outward of the chirche The quene bigan to crie Vor the loue of ihesu crist . ne doth noght the vileinie To do my penaunce withoute . ac in alle manere . As it me it iloked was . In holi chirche here . Ma dame quath this bissopes thou it ast ido iwys So helpe me god quath the quene . I nuste noght er this . Robert of Gloucester (Rolls Series), ii. 501. THO hii broghte hire to the king . the king ligginge hii founde The recon- Wepinde & ope heued . to sprad al to the grounde . EdwatTthe Hit was longe ar he mighte speke . vor deol that he made confessor and Atte laste he rose vp . as the bissopes him bade Queen & vel to is moder vet . aduun anon akne Moder he sede ich abbe misdo agen god & the That i nam noght wurthi to be thi sone ac par seinte charite . Vor pite that of the Magdalein god adde uor gif it me Sone quath the moder tho . as al this men iseth God ath vaire issewed . that we gultelese beth . 26 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Atte biginninge theraore . agen the bissop ich rede . Amendement do that is . gultles of the dede . & suthe thou might agen me . vor ich mot nede be milde As kunde of moder wole & blod agen my childe Tho the bissop was icome wepinde wel sore . The king vel doun to is vet . & criede him milce & ore The bissop wepinde al so . uorgef it him anon . So that thoni the kinges bone the bissopes ech on . Ech after other asoilede the king of this trespas Mid gerden in is naken rug and that gret pite was . Thre strokes the moder ek . wepinde wel sore Gef him him to asoily & ne mighte uor reuthe more Tho custe the king is moder . & the bissop suthe al so & herede gerne seint swithin . that such miracle adde ido Robert of Gloucester (Rolls Series), ii. 503. 3. MEDIEVAL WAYS The Book of ... THE only name which Domesday Book gives itself in its Winchester . g ^^ Qf , the book Qf Winchester . ( fo ^2b}. It was at Winchester that Domesday Book was kept at Win- chester that it must have been compiled, and at Winchester that the last original returns were preserved, far into the next century, in the Treasury of the Norman kings. From Mr. Round's article on the Domesday Survey, Victoria County History, Hants, i. 399. IN the Hampshire [Domesday] Survey we have to lament the total omission of Winchester ; but this, perhaps, as in the case of London, is a tribute to the greatness of its position. Ibid. i. 432. Eariwaitheof ESTWARDE on the Toppe of an Hille in the way to London is a behear.ed, chapelle of S. Giles, that sumtyme, as apperith, hathe bene a far WILLIAM RUFUS 27 bigger thyng, wher Waldavus, Erie of Northumbreland, a Noble Saxon or Dane was behedid by the commaundement of King Wylliam Conquerour. John j^^ Itinerary , BUT as the King was hunting in Hampshire, Sir Walter Tirrill shooting at a deere, The Arrow glauncing 'gainst a Tree by chance, Th' vnhappy King kild, by the haplesse Glaunce. A Colliers Cart to Winchester did bring The Corps, where unbemoaned they laid the King. John Taylor, the Water-poet. A Memoriall of Monarchs. To Winchestre he was ilad . al mid is grene wounde That euere as me him ledde the blod orn to grounde Amorwe anon he was ibured In the munstre ywis . Right biuore the heye weued . as is bodi yut is At is buriinge was moni a mon . ac wepinde vewe He adde endinge as he wurthe was . & such it is to be ssrewe Robert of Gloucester (Rolls Series), ii. 619. YMAD was King of Engelond at Winchestre in the place . At is brother buriinge . thoru oure louerdes grace Ibid., p. 620. The Death of Rufua His Burial Henry I. made King HENRY the King, wishing to know what King Edward had in winton Winchester in his lordship, ordered it to be inquired of and r approved under oath of burghers. From the Winton Domesday (see Victoria County History, Hants). ONE fleeting ray of prosp'rous fortune shed Here its bright radiance o'er Matilda's head, When rescued from a curst usurper's pow'r Th' unsettled crown, for one short passing hour, Allegiance to Empress Matilda 28 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Empress Matilda besieges Winchester, 1141 Deck'd its fair mistress' legal brow in vain, 1 And strove its native honours to regain, Till the same spot, where each fond hope was fed, Saw her deserted, famish'd, vanquish'd, fled. 2 John Wooll. The King's House, a poem, 1793. L'EMPERERIZ asist Vincestre. Ove lui fu li Mareschas Qui tuz diz fu ver lui loi[a]ls, E des autres baruns ase"s Out enter la vile amasez Qui la cite" quidoent prendre Mais dedenz avoit por defendre Bons cheval[i]ers e gent hardie Qui por faire chevalerie S'en issoient chascun jor fors Por tornier a eels defers j Mais Phelippe de Columbiers I estoit toz diz as prem[i]ers ; Yembles d'ann6[e]s ert e proz, Ke de deus parz les venquit tuz. Li reis 3 inclement e tost Assembla grant gent e grant ost Pur venir Vincestre rescorre E por sa bone gent sucure. Quant la 'mpereriz I'oi dire Qu'a si grant ost e a tel ire Veneit li reis por lu[i] sosprendre Ou por lu[i] ocirre ou por prendre, 1 Empress Matilda held a conference with the Legate on a plain near Winchester Castle, when Stephen was a prisoner at Bristol in 1141, and resuming the crown on certain conditions, gained the promise of allegiance from her subjects (see Chronicle of Reigns of Stephen, etc. (Rolls Series), iii. 74-5). * Referring to her defeat and flight from the city in the same year. 1 As a matter of fact, King Stephen was still a prisoner at Bristol, and the army was gathered by his queen, Maud. THE EMPRESS MATILDA 29 E si li fu dit, c'est la sume, Qu'el n'aveit pas le dissime home En sun host k'il aveit el suen, Ne li sembla ne bel ne buen, N'ele n'ont si haut conseillier Qui lors la s[e]iist conseill[i]er Fors li Mareschas, tote voie, La fist tantost metre a la voie Tot dreit a Lotegaresale. Mut fu cele jurne[e] male, Quer li reis o trestot son ost Enchausa vistement & tost, Et cil souvent li trestornoent Qui o la dame s'en aloent ; E saciez k'en ces trestornees Vit Tom maintes seles turnees, Mainz cheval[i]ers abatre & prendre. Ne[l] purrent suffrir ne atendre Cil qui o 1'empereriz e"rent : Al meiz ku'il purent s'en alerent ; Poingnant si que regne n'i tindrent, [J]esque soz Varesvalle vindrent ; Mes forment les desavancha L'empereriz qui cheva[l]cha, Cumme femme fait, en scant : Ne sembla pas boen ne scant Al Marechal, anceis li dist : ' Dame, si m'ait Jesucrist, L'om ne puet pas en scant poindre : Les jambes vos covient desjo[i]ndre E metre par en son I'arQum.' Let le fist, volsist ele ou non, Quer lor enemis le[s] grevoient Qui de trop pres les herd[i]oient. L'Histoire de Guillaume le Marechal, lines 166-224 [ed. Paul Meyer, 1901]. 30 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER ABRIDGED TRANSLATION [THE Empress was besieging Winchester. With her were the Marshall and numerous barons who thought they could take the town. However, there were several valiant knights defend- ing it, and they made sorties every day against the besiegers. To oppose them the young and brave Philip de Colombiers was always one of the first, and he drove them back. The King hastened to assemble a formidable army to succour Winchester. When the Empress heard that the King was marching against her with a force ten times more numerous than hers she was in great trouble. None could advise her except John the Marshall, who at once suggested she should go on to Ludgershall. It was a hard day : the King and his host pursued them closely, and those who accompanied the lady often faced them, and, in these encounters, there were many saddles twisted, many knights unhorsed and captured. The partisans of the Empress being weak in numbers retreated as well as they could. By dint of hard spurring they came near to Wherwell. However, the Empress kept them back, riding side-saddle as is the wont of women. The Marshall realising this must not be bade her put her leg over the pommel and ride astride. Unwilling though she was, she obeyed him, since the enemy were pressing them close.] The praises HAEC est in partibus illis Judaeorum Hierosolyma, in hac sola perpetua pace fruuntur, haec est schola bene vivere et valere volentium. Hie fiunt homines, hie satis est panis et vini pro nihilo. Sunt in ea tantae monachi misericordiae et mansuetu- dinis, clerus consilii et libertatis, cives civilitatis et fidei, feminae pulchritudinis et pudicitiae, quod parum me retinet quin ego vadam illuc cum talibus Christianis fieri Christianus. Ad istam te dirigo civitatem, urbem urbium, matrem omnium, et omnibus meliorem. Unum est vitium et illud solum, cui de consuetudine nimis indulget. Salva pace literatorum dixerim et Judaeorum, Wentani mentiuntur ut vigiles, sed in fabulis faciendis. Nus- THE JERUSALEM OF ENGLAND 31 quam enim sub coelo de tarn facili tot rumores falsi fabricantur, ut ibi ; alias, per omnia sunt veraces. [Winchester is for the Jews the Jerusalem of those parts ; here and here only they enjoy continual peace ; here is the school of all who desire to live well and to prosper. Here men are men ; here is bread and wine in plenty and for nothing. Here the monks are so full of pity and kindness, the clerks so wise and free, the citizens so civil and faithful, the women so beautiful and so pure, that I declare I am half tempted to become a Christian when I am with such Christians as these. I advise you to go thither, to the city of cities, the mother of all, the best of all. They have one failing, and one only, and that is after all but a matter of custom. Wintonians tell lies, like watchmen, but only in inventing tales. Nowhere under Heaven are false reports so easily concocted ; in other ways they are truthful enough.] Chronicle of Reigns of Stephen, etc. (Rolls Series), iii. 438. THEN King Richard, being clothed in his royal robes, with the second crown upon his head, holding in his right hand a royal sceptre, which terminated in a cross, and in his left hand a golden wand, 1194 with the figure of a dove at the top of it, came forth from his apartment in the priory, being conducted on the right hand by his chancellor, the Bishop of Ely, and on the left by the Bishop of London. . . . The silken canopy was held upon four lances over the king by four earls. . . . The king being thus conducted into the cathedral and up to the high altar, there fell upon his knees, and devoutly received the archbishop's solemn benediction. He was then led to the throne, which was prepared for him on the south side of the choir. . . . When Mass was finished, the king was led back again to his apartments, with the solemnities that have been described above. He then laid aside his ponder- ous robes and crown, and put on other robes and a crown that 32 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER were much lighter, and so proceeded to dinner which was served in the monks' refectory. Milner, History of Winchester. William Marshall the younger, besieges Winchester, March 1217 Isi fut fet com ge vos di, & 1'endemain se depart! Li gienvles Mar. del p&re. II & li quens de SalesbeYe Qui ren aceet bien se tindrent O lor genz a Wincestre vindrent : Le chastel de Wincestre assistrent. E li dui qui Wincestre assistrent A La Hide lor ostels pristrent ; E [si] vos di por verit6 Que il assistrent la cite", Le premier jor petit i firent, Mes 1'endemain il 1'essallirent. Tant me feit li escriz entendre Que 1'endemain, sanz plus atendre, Enveia li peres por 1'ost Que dessi qu'a lui venist tost. Tant tost cum [H] chastelein virent Que cil de 1'ost d'els se partirent, Sachiez que molt 90 lor fu bel. Lors eissirent de lor chastel. En la vile, si la roberent E ar[s]trent, car cor[o]ci4 e"rent, Por ce que recetez aveient Lor enemis & lor nuiseient. Ne porent pas tot lor afaire En poi d'ore fornir e faire, Kar 1'ost si sodement revint Q'onques as chastele[i]ns ne tint WINCHESTER BESIEGED 33 De fere ce que a lui quistrent. Arrie*re en lor chastels se mistrent, Mes itels fu li meseiirs Que la vile defers les murs As chasteleins plus consentirent, Dont trop leidement se sentirent. Li cuens de Salesbire assist Le menor chastel, si le prist, E li plus gienvles Mar. Herdiement, comm[e] vassals, Le greingnor des chastels asist. Tant manie'res de gent i mist E tant d'ommes e nuit e jor Que par puissance, par valor, Uit jors tot pleins si les destreinst Qu'onques ne s'i lacha ne feinst, C'onques lai[e]nz ne reposerent N'onques descovrir ne s'ose"rent. E itant vos [voil] je bien dire Que quant li cuens de Salesbire Ont pris Tun [des] chastels a force, Vers 1'autre se haste & esforce Por entrer al gienvle Mar. En aiie e en grant estal. E sachiez que tant se pen6rent Li dui buen ami qui la ale"rent, E tant trestrent & tant lancie"rent Qui si durement s'avancie"rent Que li encloz qui dedanz erent S'esmaie'rent molt & dote"rent. Endementiers issi avint Que li e[i]nznez Mar. vint O grant ost & o grant compaigne, Que la rivie're e la champaigne c 34 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER En fu pleine & la vile entor. Lors virent bien cil de la tor Quil n'i porent gueres durer Car fort lor ert a endurer C'est nuls nez, en 90 n'a que dire, Kar n'i a me[n]chonge ne gile, Tels fu li gaaignz en la vile Que li povr[e] qui voldrent prendre Ne al gaaign voldrent entendre Furent tuit en richece mis De 1'aveir a lor enemis. L'Histoire de Guillautne le Marichal. ABRIDGED TRANSLATION [The following day the young Marshall and the Earl of Salisbury went to Winchester and besieged the castle. . . . The young Marshall (William) and the Earl of Salisbury took up their quarters at Hyde Abbey, and besieged the city of Winchester. The first day they did little, but the second day they gave assault. That day the elder Marshall (William, Earl of Pembroke) sent them word to rejoin him without delay. . . . However, the garri- sons of the castles (of Winchester) seeing that the English host had gone, made a sortie, sacked the town and set it on fire because the inhabitants had given shelter to their enemies. They could not, however, do all they would, because the host returned so suddenly that they were obliged to re-enter their castles. Unluckily, however, the inhabitants of the suburbs agreed with the garrison of the castle, which cost them dear. The Earl of Salisbury besieged and took the smaller of the two castles. The young Marshall besieged the larger, and during eight days pressed it so closely that the defenders dared neither take rest nor lay down their arms. The Earl of Salisbury having taken the smaller castle hastened to the aid of the young Marshall, and both made such efforts that LOUIS OF FRANCE 35 the garrison soon began to be discouraged. Further, the elder Marshall came with so great a host that country and town were filled by it. The castle defenders saw very well they could not resist much longer. . . . Winchester in the meantime surrendered, and so great a haul was made that the poor who wished to do so became rich through the booty of their enemies.] AINZ s'en vint tot dreit a Wincestre The King of Dunt grant ennuis el cuer li germe repairs the En poi de jors e en brief terme city wans, Refist la tor & les murs hauz April 1217 Richement de p[i]ere e de chauz, E totes les trebucheiires Des murs & les desquasseiires Fist ratorner fortes e beles, Cum s'els fus[s]ent totes noveles. Quant il se parti del chastel, Qu'il out fait fort e boen e bel, Lessa le conte de Nevers Qui ert orguilos & porvers O molt tres riche garnison, Mes pu[i]s fist mainte mesprison Que Ten li torna a [grant] honte, Mes n'en vuil or ci tenir conte. L'Histoire de Guillaume le Marshal. ABRIDGED TRANSLATION [Louis of France went straight to Winchester, and in a little while he had repaired the tower and the high walls with stone and lime, and stopped up the breaches. He left the Comte de Nevers, a proud and cruel man, in the city, with a strong garrison. The Count afterwards committed many excesses, to his great shame, but I do not wish to speak of them here.] 36 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Fair UNDER the Saxon Heptarchy this city, though pillaged more than once, recovered itself, became the palace of the Saxon kings, embellished with magnificent churches, was the see of a bishop, and had from King Ethelstan the privilege of six mints. In the Norman times it increased considerably, and the archives or public records were kept here. It continued in this flourishing state, except that it suffered by one or two accidental fires, and by the licentious soldiery during the civil wars between Stephen and Matilda. Whence our Neckam, 1 who lived then, says of it : ' Guintoniam titulis claram gazisque repletam Noverunt veterum tempora prisca patrum, Sed jam sacra fames auri, jam caecus habendi Urbibus egregiis parcere nescit amor.' ' For wealth and state, for honour and renown, In antient times fair Winchester was known. In these degenerate days for gold our rage, The richest cities only can assuage.' Edward in. relieved its distress by fixing here a market for cloth and wool, commonly called the Staple. What was the appearance of the city in those early times is not easy to say, since as Neckam goes on : ' [Quam] flammis totiens gens aliena dedit. Hinc facies urbis totiens mutata, dolorem Praetendit, casus nuncia vera sui.' ' But hostile fire so oft has changed her face, Her ruins represent her piteous case.' At present (c. 1586) it is well peopled, and watered by several cuts from the river. Camden, Britannia (ed. Gough), i. 118. The daya of IN the days of our forefathers, the gallant days of old, When Cressy's wondrous tale in Europe's ears was told ; When the brave and gentle prince, with his heroic peers, Met France and ail her knighthood in the vineyards of Poictiers ; 1 See Alexander Neckam, De Laudibus Divinae Sapieniiae, ed. Wright (Rolls Series), p. 459. ANCIENT DAYS 37 When captive kings on Edward's state right humbly did attend, When England's chivalry began the gartered knee to bend ; Then in the foremost place, among the noblest of the land, Stood Wykeham, the great bishop, upon the king's right hand. But when gracious Edward slept, and Richard wore the crown, Forth came good William Wykeham, and meekly knelt him down. Then out spake young King Richard : ' What boon can Wykeham ask, Which can surpass his worth, or our bounty overtask ? For art thou not our Chancellor ? and where in all the realm Is a wiser man or better, to guide the labouring helm ? And thou know'st the holy lore, and the mason's cunning skill.' ' I ask not wealth or honour,' the bishop lowly said, ' Too much of both thy grandsire's hand heaped on a poor monk's head : This world is a weary load, it presses down my soul Fain would I pay my vows, and to Heaven restore the whole Grant me that two fair colleges, beneath thy charter sure, At Oxford and at Winchester, for ever may endure, Which Wykeham's hands shall raise upon the grassy sod, In the name of Blessed Mary, and for the love of God.' The King he sealed the charters, and Wykeham traced the plan, And God who gave him wisdom, prospered the lowly man, So two fair colleges arose, one in calm Oxford's glade, And one where Itchen sparkles beneath the palm-tree shade. There seventy true-born English boys he nourished year by year In the nurture of good learning, and in God's holy fear ; And gave them steadfast laws, and bade them never move, Without sweet sign of fellowship, and gentle links of love. 38 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER They grew beside his pastoral throne, and kept his counsels sage, And the good man rejoiced to bear such fruit in his old age : He heard the pealing notes of praise, which morn and evening rung Forth from their vaulted chapel, by their clear voices sung ; His eye beheld them two by two their comely order keep, Along the Minster's sacred aisles and up the beech-crowned steep ; And when he went to his reward, they shed the pious tear, And sang the hallowed requiem over his saintly bier. Then came the dark and evil times, when English blood was shed All over fertile England, for the White Rose or the Red ; But still hi Wykeham's Chapel the notes of praise were heard, And still in Wykeham's College they taught the sacred Word ; And in the grey of morning, on every saint's day still, That black-gowned troop of brothers was winding up the hill : There in the hollow trench, which the Danish pirate made, Or through the broad encampment, the peaceful scholars played. And after that when love grew cold and Christendom was rent, And sinful churches laid them down in sackcloth to repent ; When impious men bore sway, and wasted church and shrine, And cloister and old abbey the works of men divine ; Though upon all things sacred their robber-hands they laid, They did not tear from Wykeham's gates the Blessed Mother- Maid : But still in Wykeham's cloisters fair wisdom did increase, And then his sons began to learn the golden songs of Greece. And all through great Eliza's reign, those days of pomp and pride, They kept the law of Wykeham, and did not swerve aside : Still in their vaulted Chapel, and in the Minster fair, And in their lamplit chambers, they said the frequent prayer : TUMULT AND CHANGE 39 And when the Scottish plague-spot ran withering through the land, The sons of Wykeham knelt beneath meek Andrewes' fostering hand, And none of all the faithless, who swore the unhallowed vow, Drank of the crystal waters beneath the plane-tree bough. Dread was the hour, but short as dread, when from the guarded down Fierce Cromwell's rebel soldiery kept watch o'er Wykeham's town ; Beneath their pointed cannon all Itchen's valley lay, St. Catherine's breezy side, and the woodlands far away, The huge Cathedral sleeping in venerable gloom, The modest College tower, and the bedesman's Norman home. They spoiled the graves of valiant men, warrior and saint and sage, But at the grave of Wykeham, good angels quenched their rage. Good angels still were there, when the base-hearted son Of Charles, the royal martyr, his course of shame did run ; Then in those cloisters holy, Ken strengthened with deeper prayer His own and his dear scholars' souls to what pure souls should dare ; Bold to rebuke enthroned sin with calm undazzled faith, Whether amid the pomp of courts, or on the bed of death ; Firm against kingly terrors in his free country's cause, Faithful to God's anointed against a world's applause. Since then, what wars and tumults, what change has Europe seen ! But never since in Itchen's Vale has war or tumult been ; God's mercies have been with us, His favour still has blest The memories sweet and glorious deeds of the good men at rest ; 40 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The many prayers, the daily praise, the nurture in the Word, Have not in vain ascended up before the gracious Lord. Nations and thrones and reverend laws have melted like a dream ; Yet Wykeham's works are green and fresh beside the crystal stream. Four hundred years and fifty their rolling course have sped, Since the first serge-clad scholar to Wykeham's feet was led ; And still his seventy faithful boys, in these presumptuous days, Learn the old truths, speak the old words, tread in the ancient ways: Still for their daily orisons resounds the matin chime ; Still linked in bands of brotherhood St. Catherine's steep they climb : Still to their Sabbath worship they troop by Wykeham's tomb, Still in the summer twilight sing their sweet song of home. Verses by Roundell Palmer (first Earl Selbourne). 4. TUDORS AND STUARTS ' What shall we do for a gay young Spaniard ? What shall we do for a gay young Spaniard? Wooing a wife from England.' [Winchester Pageant.] me Spanish ON the 23rd (July) he (Philip of Spain) left Hampton for Win- Marriage Chester, accompanied by many marquises, dukes, earls, and other lords and gentlemen, besides those from Spain, having with him upwards of a thousand horse. He dismounted at the cathedral, where he was received by six bishops, and next day he went to visit the Queen, who came to meet him at the large hall. On the 25th the espousal was celebrated with great pomp and rejoicing in the said church, with marvellous signs of great joy and satis- faction on the part of all the spectators ; and during this cere- mony the marriage articles were confirmed and sworn to by the Prince, and the marriage was to be consummated that night. GJOOD QUEEN BESS 41 There were present at the espousal the ambassadors from the Emperor, from the Kings of the Romans and Bohemia, from your Serenity, from Savoy, Florence, and Ferrara, and many agents of sovereign princes. The proclamation was entitled thus : Philip and Mary, by the grace of God, King and Queen of England, France, Naples, Jerusalem, Ireland, Defender of the Faith, Prince of Spain, Archduke of Austria, etc. Cal. S. P. Venetian, vol. v. No. 923. A WHILOM Mayor of Winchester was fortunate enough to Good Queen have attained that position when Queen Elizabeth was visiting BesB the city. 1 The Mayor was more celebrated for his virtues than for his grammar. ' Mr. Mayor,' said the Queen, ' yours is a very ancient city.' ' It has a-been, your Majesty, it has a-been,' replied the local dignitary. Local Tradition. ' Of the favorers and mislikers of the present estate of religion.' AND because the citie of Winchestre is moste noted in hamp- ' Favorerg of shiere either for good example or evill (all that bear aucthoritie SU p erBt j C i on > there except one or two beinge addicte to thold supersticion and earnest fautores thereof), It should be well donne to associate for the commission in the sayde citye the Busshopp of Winton, Sir Henrye Seamour, William Uvedall, henrye Wallopp, John ffoster, and George Acworthy, the busshopps chauncelour, and for hedd officers there . . . non be appoynted unto nor continue to exercise anie of the . . . offices or callinges but they whose religion is approved, nor none likewise placed or displaced by one or two, but by common consent [of] the benche at some generall session, which will easelie drawe the common p[eople] to one good conformitye when they in aucthoritie goe all one waye, or do the not crosse or hinder the well doinges of another. The Bishop of Winchester to the Privy Council, 1 3th November 1564. Camden Miscellany (Camden Society), ix. 54-5. 1 Elizabeth visited Winchester in 1560, 1569, 1574, and 1586, and pos- sibly also in 1591. See The Wykehamist, July 1912, pp. 30-1. IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Typical expenses of nixteenth- century Judges of Assize at Winchester WESTERN CIRCUIT (AUTUMN), 1596 (i) Rewards for Presents at Winchester sent to the Judges on circuit. Inprimis of Mr. Maior of Winton & his brethren, one mutton, one veale . . . nil. Of Mr. Norton, one bucke, the rewarde . v 8 Of my Lo. Bishopp of Winton, one bucke . v 8 Of Mr. Tichborne, two capons, iiij rabetts, and iiij pewetts, the rewarde . . . xij d Of Mr. Fashion, one freshe samon . . xij d Of Mr. Kirby, one freshe samon and vj puetts, the rewarde . . . . . xij d Of Sir Thomas Weste, one freshe samon and one samon-peale .... xii d Of Mr. Gifforde, one buck and six coople of conyes, the rewarde . . v 8 Of Mr. Sheriff, 1 half a buck & one freshe samon nil. From the Colledge of Winton, one mutton, the rewarde . ... . . , vi d Of the Lord Marques of Winchester, one bucke, the rewarde . . . i v 8 Suma for p'sents at Winchester . . xxiiii 8 vj d (ii) Private Charges of Judges. Provision bought at Winchester : Inp'mis three quarters of lambe . . iij 8 ij d It. a rostinge-pigge .. . . . xviii d It. for capers and olives . . . vi d It. a strayner . . . . . vi d It. two capons . . . . xxii d It. a quarter of veale . . . . ij 8 iiij d It. for suett ..... iiij d It. a neates foote & tripes . . . vi d It. for two pulletts and viij chickings . . iij 8 x d 1 Robert Oxenbridge, Esq., of Hurstborne. JUDGES ON CIRCUIT 43 It. for bread & flower, viz. iiij bushels & three pecks ..... xxvj 8 vj d It. five barrells & one firkyn of beere, at v 8 the barrell ..... xxvij 8 vj d It. wood & coles . . . . xj 8 It. butter, tenne pounds . . . iij 8 iiij d It. for egges . . . . . xij d It. for iiij chickings .... xx d It. salt & candles . . . . xx d It. peases . . . . . ii 8 vj a It. a paire of calves feete . . . ij d It. for bacon . . . . . vj d It. yo r LL. chambers . . . . xx 8 It. to the butler . . . . ij 8 vi d It. to the helpes in the kitchen . . iij 8 vj d It. to the turnespit . . . . xij d It. to the porter . . . t . ii 8 It. to M r White's man that waited . . xij d It. the grocer's bill . . . . vj s It. for wyne . . . . vij 8 Suma totalis of joynt chardges at Wynchester . vij 1 xvij 8 x d Medietatis inde . , .- . . iij 1 xviij 8 xi d Accounts of Thomas Walmysley, one of the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas, on his riding the Western Circuit with Edward Fenner, one of the Judges of the Queen's Bench (Camden Miscellany, vol. iv.). September 17, 1603. WE are now removing shortlie to Winchester, where we shall Unwelcome staie till we have also infected that place, as we have donne all 8 others where we have come. It is intended to give audience there to the Spanishe Amb r , who is gonne before w th other Amb rs to lodge at Southampton. Sir Thomas Edmonds to the Earl of Shrewsbury from Woodstock. Nichols' Progresses of James I., i. 271. 44 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER September , 1603. of th ... OUR Treaty is not begonn, for y* Sp. Emb. hath yet not kad ki s au dj ence by reason y l y 6 Plague fell in his howse. On Sonday he comes to receave it at Wynchester, where the K. meanes to ly as long as y 6 Plague can escape us, 1 which drives us and down so rownd as I think we shall come to York. God bless the King ; for once a week one or other dyes in our Tentes. Sir Robert Cecil to the Earl of Shrewsbury from Woodstock. Nichols' Progresses of James I., i. 272. Junes L at THE King arrived at Winchester on the 20th of September [1603] ; and with the Queen (who went there two days before him) was received by the Mayor and Corporation with great solemnity ; and their Majesties were graciously pleased to accept two large silver cups, accompanied by the following speech from Sir John Moore, Recorder of that City : ' If my tongue, the natural messenger off the heart and mynde, could soe lively expresse, most high & mighty Prince, & our most deere & dread Soveraigne, the exceeding joy and gladness of this your Highness ancient Citty of Winchester as they are sensably conceived within us all ; then needed I not, though the meanest off your Majestie's subjects, fearr to undergo the office of my place, & be the mouth of this politique body, a body consisting of many bodies, & yet relying onely upon one body, your sacred person, by whose happy entrance into this famous island, decreed & ordeyned by the God of Heaven, we finde & acknowledge ourselves possessours off our present felicity. . . . And let me presume, my dread Sovereigne, heare before your Majestie's feete, in the name & behalf e off all these grave Majestrates and Citizens off your Highnesse's auncient & in times past most famous City of Winchester, being sometimes the seate of your Majestie's Progenitors, the place off their Parliaments & sepulchers, the place of the Minte and Staple, whose now 1 James remained at Winchester from September 20 to October 4, and was there again in November. SIR WALTER RALEGH 45 decayed walls and ruynous buildings presenting to your Majestie's view a desolation, are again re-edified with the joy & comfort of your Majestie's presence and access to this place ; lett me, I say, presume to yield & give up unto your Highness all that we enjoy & possess under your Majestie & by your gracious permission, hoping that your Highness, off your clemency & goodness, will again restore unto us all our ancient liberties heretofore granted by your Highness' progenitors ratifyed & confirmed. . . . We your Citizens off your Highness ancient City of Winchester, in all obedient & dutyfull manner, & in all humbleness presume to present this cupp, most humbly beseeching your Royall Majestie to accept the faythfull hearts and good wills off your Highness poore Citizens off this City. . . .' Nichols' Progresses of James I., i. 274-6, quoting Harl. MS. 852, p. 8. IN the month of November [1603] the City of Winchester became The trial of the scene of much public business of great notoriety ; and it was e probably owing to the attachment of the High Sheriff (Sir Benjamin Tichborne) to the King's person and government, and the great interest which he was found to possess in the County, that when the rifeness of the Plague in London rendered it im- possible to hold the Court of Justice there, his Majesty removed them to Winchester. He had previously sent orders to the Wardens, Fellows, and Students of the College to quit their respective apartments and offices, for a certain time, in order to make room for the judges and other Public officers who were appointed to lodge there and he had provided the Episcopal Palace of Wolvesey for holding certain Courts therein. By the middle of the month Winchester was crowded, not only with the Crown Officers, but also with the Peers of the Realm, and their several attendants ; for now matters of the utmost importance were to be discussed, which equally required the attendance of the latter as of the former. This was no other than the trial of the pretended Conspirators, for what was called 46 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Sir Walter Raleigh's Conspiracy ; in which certain Noblemen, who, of course, were to be tried by their Peers were implicated, no less than persons of almost every other quality and description. Nichols' Progresses of James I. The scene of WHILST these transactions were carrying on, the eyes of the whole kingdom were directed towards Winchester, where the conflux of great personages, and the expenditure that this must have occasioned, exhibited some faint image of its former consequence. Milner, History of Winchester. The accused IT is sayd that S r W. Raleighe's arraynme't held from eight in the morninge till seven at night. That he caryed hym self both so temperate in all his answeres, and answered so wisely & readily to all objections, as it wrought both admiration in y 6 hearers for his good p te , and pitye towardes his pson. Michael Hickes to the Earl of Shrewsbury. Nichols' Progresses of James I. Winchester WINCHESTER is a very famous & ancient citty, it was the Royall seat f ^ e West Saxon Kings ; it had 6 houses in it for coining & minting mony in the raigne of King Athelstane ; & long since that all the publike Records & Evidences of the whole kingdom of England were kept there. This Citie hath been twice fired by sudden mis-fortunes ; and in King Stephens raigne it was sack'd and spoil'd by rude soldiers that belong'd to the King, & Mawd the Empresse factions ; but after it was much enrich 'd by the royall favour of King Edward the 3, who caused a mart or staple of Wooll & Cloth to be kept there, but since (as times hath altred) this worthy city hath suffred many changes, yet still with Fame and Reputation she beares up her head. John Taylor, the Water-poet. A Catalogue of Taverncs in ten Shires, 1636. THE CIVIL WAR 47 THY reign, O Charles ! my Muse reluctant sings During the And treats of rights of people, and of Kings ; While by degrees the din extends afar Of civic slaughter, and intestine war, Thy walls, O Venta, feel th' internal rage, The savage fury of this blinded age ; Rous'd by the sparks of Freedom's sacred flame, To aid in arms a British senate's fame, Thy Castle's champion, Waller, calls to arms, And eager quits retirement's wonted charms, By zealous fury 'gainst his Monarch steel'd, Erects his patriot standard in the field, In vain the long-try'd Castle's sturdy rock Oppos'd the chance of war, and brav'd the shock Of foes, contending to direct the helm, And wield the sceptre of the shaken realm ; First round the walls the Royal leader mann'd Each stubborn fortress with his trusty band, High o'er the tow'r th' inviting standard wav'd, And each attack of rebel fury brav'd, But brav'd in vain ; the savage waste of war Levell'd its turrets, left its ramparts bare, And its first master gave the last destructive stroke. John Wooll. **~ The King's House at Winchester, 1793. WINCHESTER, 6th October 1645. I CAME to Winchester on the Lord's day the 28th of September. Cromwell . After some dispute with the Governor, we entered the besie & es WincLester Town. I summoned the Castle ,- was denied ; whereupon we fell to prepare batteries, which we could not perfect (some of our guns being out of order) until Friday following. Our battery was six guns ; which being finished, after firing one round, I sent 48 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER in a second summons for a treaty ; which they refused. Where- upon we went on with our work, and made a breach in the wall near the Black Tower ; which after about 200 shot, we thought stormable ; and purposed on Monday morning to attempt it. On Sunday night about ten of the clock, the Governor beat a parley, desiring to treat. I agreed unto it and sent Colonel Hammond and Major Harrison in to him, who agreed upon these enclosed Articles. Sir, this is the addition of another mercy. You see God is not weary in doing you good. . . . His goodness in this is much to be acknowledged : for the Castle was well manned with Six- hundred-and-eighty horse and foot, there being near Two- hundred gentlemen, officers, and their servants ; well victualled, with fifteen hundred-weight of cheese, very great store of wheat and beer ; near twenty barrels of powder, seven pieces of cannon ; the works were exceeding good and strong. It 's very likely it would have cost much blood to have gained it by storm. We have not lost twelve men. . . . Carlyle, Oliver Cromwell's Letters. The Restora- Ax Winchester, the mayor and aldermen, in their scarlet gowns, met at the market cross, and went down to the cathedral, where they heard a very loyal and eloquent sermon from Mr. Complin, minister of Avington, near Winchester. Marching thence into the High Street the mayor with the rest of the corporation ascended a scaffold, covered with a red cloth, and there solemnly proclaimed King Charles. The which ended, the musquetteers gave a gallant volley ; then, silence being commanded, the remaining part of the cathedral singing-men, whereof Mr. Burt, a gentleman of eighty years of age, was one, with the master of the choirister and other musical gentlemen, sung a solemn anthem, in a room built on purpose somewhat above the mayor's scaffold, the words, ' O Lord, make thy servant Charles our gracious King, to rejoice in thy strength,' etc. Quoted in The Winchester Guide, 1796. CHARLES THE SECOND 49 September 16, 1683. THIS [an accidental fire at Newmarket] made the king more Charles n.'s earnest to render Winchester the seat of his autumnal field- Palace diversions for the future, designing a palace there, where the ancient castle stood ; infinitely preferable to Newmarket for prospects, air, pleasure and provisions. The surveyor has already begun the foundation for a palace, estimated to cost 35,000, and his Majesty is purchasing ground about it to make a park, etc. Evelyn's Diary. FROM the troubles of the state, and the noise of the Town, Charles ii.'s From being as busy as great, visit From the tedious Pomp that attends on a Throne, To Quiet and Us you retreat. Here you spend those soft hours in Princely delight Which alone do the recompense bring For the business and cares which wait on the Great, For being so wise, so gracious a king. Thus while the World was innocent and new, Gods, kind and bountiful, like you, Tir'd with the long Fatigue of Majesty, Oft forsook their Thrones on high. And to some humble Cell vouchsaf 'd to go, And by their sweet Retreat below, Bless'd both themselves and Mortals too. Chorus Welcome, great Sir, with all the joy That 's to your sacred presence due ; With all the Mirth which we enjoy, That mirth which we derive from you. D 50 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Blest by your presence everything Does with new Vigour now appear. Another fresh and blooming spring Seems to recall the aged Year. The happy Hours, which hasten hither, Creep hence unwillingly and slow. Time doubting stands, and knows not whether Nature to obey or You, Yet might it your acceptance find, Each minute should for ever stay : But see ! the Crowds which press behind Force the foremost Hours away. Ceres for you would have reserv'd her store, But for such greatness thought the sight too poor : And not unjustly fear'd she might become, By being too officious, troublesome. And the God of our Art bids us come to salute you, And begs you would kindly accept of our Duty : But refus'd to assist us with his Divine Fires, How should they want a God whom Your Presence inspires. Chorus Therefore we freely come to praise You, the Author of our Joys To own our happiness, and grow Much more happy by doing so. For Angels themselves, who are perfect in joys, No more happiness know than this, To see and adore, to love and to praise The fountain of their bliss. Thomas Fletcher. 1 A Song to His Majesty at Winton, 1684. 1 See below, p. 53, note. PRESUMPTUOUS HOPES 51 ON that same site, where once the castle stood, The new With many a Gothic arch and turret proud, How chang'd the scene, that meets the exile's eye ! How proud the new creation seems to rise ! Thy hand, O Wren ! portrays the vast design, And its stupendous beauties all are thine. Yet, ah ! in vain th' ingenious Master plies His happiest skill, and each glad labour tries ; In vain the eager sculptor boasts his art, And proud mechanicks, ardent, take a part To swell the triumphs of the royal dome, Above the patterns of immortal Rome, Death, unrelenting, breaks th' illusive spell, And drags the Monarch to an humbler cell. John Wooll. The King's House, etc., 1793. THE monarch occupied with his splendid visions of fountains, Charles n. and Ken statues, and all the pomps of architectural decoration, seemed to &nd ThomaE forget the lesson is, alas ! too seldom remembered how soon the short-lived projectors of ' the gorgeous palaces ' may be gathered to the dust on which they stand. Two magnificent structures, crowning the valley of the Itchen, yet remain the Cathedral and the College ; and within a few years here stood the wreck of this royal work ; the first venerable pile, from age to age, call succeeding generations to the contemplation of far more enduring scenes the other is associated from age to age with ideas of early piety and learning the site and fragments of the last remain to mock at human vanity, and the presumptuous hopes of earth. Looking forward to length of days the thought- less monarch now more frequently visited Winchester for oblivion of public cares and often with different harlot-duchesses. It will be anticipated that I am about to relate the well-known anecdote of a beautiful courtesan, in humbler station, but no less a favoured 52 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER companion of his libertine hours. Of the truth of this story there can be no doubt, for it is related by Hawkins, and we know that Hawkins recorded nothing of the life of Ken except what he received from the mouth of Ken himself, in his last days. The kindness which the King had ever shown to this virtuous man forms one of the best traits in his character. His own lodgings were mostly at the Deanery during his stay at Winchester. A lodging at the adjoining prebendal residence of Ken was de- . manded for the King's favourite of the hour. ' Not for his kingdom ! ' was the virtuous reply. The ' bowing ' Dean (Dr. Meggot), horrified at the outrage on the principles of ' passive obedience,' was far more compliant. There is a small attached room, 1 built of brick at the end of the large drawing-room in the Deanery, from tradition called ' Nell Gwyn,' where it is supposed she lodged whilst the King was at the Deanery. When many applications [for bishopric of Bath and Wells] the services of the Dean, Canon of Windsor, etc., were put forth, the King remarked, ' Odds fish ! who shall have Bath and Wells but the little fellow who would not give " poor Nelly " a lodging ? ' Of this unexpected elevation, in the dedication of his hymns to Hooper, Ken wrote : ' Among the herdsmen, I, a common swain, Liv'd pleas'd with my low cottage on the plain ; Till up, like Amos, on a sudden caught, I to the pastoral chair was trembling brought' W. L. Bowles. Life of Ken, ii. 54, etc. ' Like some To show our joy were but to bid you go ; Such farewells are to parting Tyrants due, To base, dull men, and all who are unlike to you. Yet can we grieve, and wish you always here ? 1 This brick appendage was taken down by Dean Reynell. BISHOP KEN 53 Mere envy that, and no less madness were, Than to wish our Friends, who with th' Immortal reign Themselves Immortal, here on Earth again. Yet you vouchsafe to bless us with your stay, And slowly hence even to Glory fly : But smiling thro' these peaceful Shades you glide, Like some calm Ghost where all his Treasure 's hid. When future times shall Wickham's offspring count, Who did by steps the Seat of Honour mount, Then, then shall you, and only you, be found, Who reach'd a Mitre from so low a ground. When others often pitch'd and stop'd for ease, At one bold flight you gain'd the mighty Space ; Thus all e'en the Uninteress'd admire The glorious height you 've reached, and wish you high'r. From a poem by Thomas Fletcher, 1 written in 1685, 'To Thomas Ken, Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells, staying at Win ton after his promotion.' ... OH ! if that day arrive, 'in one And we, old friend, though bowed with age, survive, How happy, whilst our days on earth shall last, To pray and think of seasons that are past, 1 Fletcher wrote this and most of his other poems when a boy at Winchester College. In dedicating his Poems on Several Occasions, of which the above is one, to 'The Revd. William Harris, D.D., School- master of the College near Winton,' he writes : ' Many of these verses were written while I was under your care, and being the Product of Hours which I stole from the ordinary Business of your School, and employed otherwise than You directed ; I am obliged to seize this only Opportunity which is left me, of making You restitution.' Further in his preface he tells the reader : ' I am afraid the Reader need not be informed that these are youthful Poems. I have now spent very little more than a third part of my threescore years and ten, and I was much younger when many of these poems were written.' 54 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Till on our various ways the night shall close And in one hallowed pile, 1 at last, our bones repose. From W. L. Bowies' ' Morley's Farewell to the Cottage of Izaak Walton,' among his Poems. iiaak w&iton HE ended his days on the fifteenth day of December 1683, in the great frost, at Winchester, in the house of Dr. William Hawkins, a prebendary of the church there, where he lies buried. The Compleat Angler, ed. 1797. Preface. September 16, 1685. jamei ii. at SETTING out early we arrived at Winchester to wait on the Winchester Rmg who wag lodged &t ^ Dean ' s (Dr. Meggott). ... His Majesty was discoursing with the Bishop (of Bath and Wells) concerning miracles . . . the Bishop added a great miracle happening in Winchester to his certain knowledge, of a poor, miserably sick, and decrepit child (as I remember long kept unbaptized), who immediately on his baptism recovered. . . . I went out to see the new palace the late King had begun and brought almost to the covering. It is placed on the side of the hill where formerly stood the old castle. It is a stately fabric, of three sides and a corridor, all built of brick, and cornished, windows and columns at the west and entrance of freestone. It was intended for a hunting-house when his Majesty should come to these parts, and has an incomparable prospect. I believe there had already been 20,000 and more expended ; but his now Majesty did not seem to encourage the finishing it, at least for a while. Evelyn's Diary. 5. LATER DAYS Thursday, October n, 1770. A genteel ABOUT eleven I preached at Winchester to a genteel and yet congrega- t^n . senous congregation. John Wesley's Journal. 1 Both Bishop Morley and Izaak Walton are buried in Winchester Cathedral : Walton ob. 1683, aged ninety ; Morley ob. 1684, aged eighty- even. GEORGE III. AT WINCHESTER 55 Wednesday, October 6, 1780. AT eleven I preached in Winchester, where there are four thousand French five hundred French prisoners. I was glad to find they have P 1 * 8011618 plenty of wholesome food ; and are treated, in all respects, with great humanity. John Wesley's Journal. THE King and Queen set out from Windsor at one in the afternoon George in. and arrived at Winchester camp at half after five. The light * nd J 11861 * Caroline at infantry lined the avenue from the camp [on Morn Hill] to Mr. Winchester Penton's house [in Eastgate Street] where their Majesties were ** 28 ~ 30 lodged. Soon after their arrival, the mayor and corporation awaited upon his Majesty with the following elegant address : ' Most Gracious Sovereign, ' The mayor, bailiffs, and commonalty of the city of Winchester, at all times eager to testify their loyalty to your Majesty, and their attachment to your illustrious family, most humbly ap- proach your Majesty, to express their unfeigned joy at seeing, within the walls of this ancient city, a sovereign under whose government they experience so many and so extensive blessings/ etc. . . . They were afterwards introduced to the Queen and addressed her Majesty. 1 . . . The dean and prebends of Winchester also waited upon his Majesty, with the warden and fellows of the college and the two masters of the school. The next day, at nine in the morning, their Majesties went from Mr. Penton's house to review the troops. The concourse of people assembled on this occasion was very great, which together with the fineness of the weather, made the whole a most pleasing scene. . . . On the 3oth their Majesties were pleased to take a view of the cathedral, its antiquities, architecture, etc., and after- 1 In the course of this speech they ' testify ' to the ' excess of their joy in being admitted to the presence of a princess possessed of every accomplishment which can adorn her sex, and graced with every virtue that can give lustre to her exalted position.' 56 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER wards to visit the college, where their Majesties were addressed in a Latin speech by Mr. Chamberlayne, son of William Chamber- layne, Esq., Solicitor of the Treasury, the senior scholar on the foundation, and fellow elect of New College, Oxford ; and in English by the Earl of Shaftesbury. As soon as they returned they set off immediately for Salisbury. They ordered sums of money to be left for the poor, at the disposal of the mayor ; for the three senior boys on the foundation, for the debtors in the prisons, and for other charitable purposes. Gent. Mag., xlviii. 493-4. March 1784. Winchester AT Winchester one and twenty prisoners were capitally convicted. There were 103 felons, the greatest number ever known. Gent. Mag., liv. 224. [For ten towns there were eighty-eight capital convictions in the Spring Assizes of 1784. Probably this was the result of the publication of Madan's Thoughts on Executive Justice.] The city in OF the many inquiring visitors who annually bend their steps to this ancient and interesting city, not a few, it is fair to presume, are under the influence of that peculiar feeling, which derives its greatest enjoyment from the recollection of past occurrences and from the connexion of monuments of art with the history of former ages. ' Far from me and from my friends (said Dr. Johnson) be such frigid philosophy, as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground, which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue.' And although the majority of these hoary relics with which Winchester once abounded, are either unblushingly consigned to destruction, as a source of individual profit, or immediately lapsing to decay, through the apathy of modern proprietors ; yet monuments enough remain, with the ' smell of antiquity ' upon them amply to recompense the con- templative tourist for any portion of time he may choose to spend A WARLIKE CITY 57 in their examination. For not to mention those which must ever remain inviolate, so long as existing institutions in church and state are upheld by the people such as our immense and richly decorated cathedral, or our celebrated college, with its many beautiful appendages he will find, in the noble ruins of Wolvesey Castle in the Western and King's Gates in the Guildhall and City Cross as in the ancient chapel of St. Stephen in the kingly and episcopal Palaces in the hospitals of St. John and St. Cross in the old Roman defences upon Catherine Hill, and in the republican post immediately facing it, called ' Oliver's Battery,' many pleasing sources of retrospective instruction. Historical and Descriptive Guide to Winchester, 1829. I SUPPOSE that Winchester would be considered rather a war- A warlike like city now ; it is a garrison town, it is the centre of a splendid Oity militia, and stout yeomen (descendants of the ' hynen stalworthe ' of old) annually display their skilled horsemanship about its streets, it boasts an excellent rifle corps, and is proud to be represented by a member of military style. Well, the citizens may claim this warlike character as an acquisition of their own ; for unless it has, so to say, skipped over a generation, and they are now reproducing the citizens of the fifth or sixth centuries, whose highest pleasure was to ' quaff strong ale out of the skulls of their slaughtered enemies,' the citizen of Winchester in old days was not a very war-loving person. In a great invasion of Wessex in 1006 the Danes passed close by the gates of Winchester displaying in triumph to its inhabitants the spoils of the inland shires. The citizens made no attempt to cut them off, but submitted in silence to their insults. Backward, however, as they were to meet the enemy in the field, they were forward enough to cut him off by treachery ; and Winchester won an evil celebrity by having begun the general massacre of the Danes, and commenced the shocking Hocktide sports. And again, when William the Conqueror sent a demand for submission to the city, no resistance was attempted. Eadgyth, the ' old lady,' Harold's 58 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER mother, who held the city, took counsel with the chief men, who, remembering that discretion is the chief part of valour, prudently added large gifts to an immediate offer of surrender. During Stephen's reign the ' poor, prudent, faint-hearted citizens ' had a rough time of it ; and we can well understand the joy of the chronicler when he exclaims, ' Oh, how blessed was the day, when the illustrious youth Henry was received and conducted by the King himself in a solemn procession of mitred prelates and armed heroes through the streets of Winchester, amidst the joyous acclamations of an infinite multitude of people ! ' 'Winchester in Olden Times,' in The Wykehamist, June i, 1876. A Winchester . . . SOME of the town [Bedwin] treated your Lordship as the surgeon surgeon did Mr. Bridges at Winchester, who had bruised only his toe, and with fair practice it might have been soon cured, but the surgeon applied contrary salves on purpose to make it appear a great and difficult cure, and let it go so far that he could not retrieve it, and though he did not design it at first yet he destroyed the gentleman, who lost his life by it. 1714, December 3. C. Beecher to Lord Bruce, Hist. MSS. Com. (Marquess of Ailesbury's MSS.), p. 220. A poetical IT was during my last year at Winchester that I made my first prologue attempt at authorship. Old Robbins, the grey-headed book- seller of College Street, who had been the college bookseller for many years, had recently taken a younger partner of the name of Wheeler, and this gentleman established a monthly magazine called the Hampshire and West of England Magazine, to which I contributed. . . . The Rev. E. Poulter, one of the prebendaries of Winchester, who had a somewhat wider than local reputation as a wit in those days, was the anonymous contributor of a poetical prologue of such unconscionable proportions that poor Wheeler was sadly puzzled what to do with it. It was impossible to refuse or neglect a reverend prebendary's contribution, besides that the A POETICAL PROLOGUE 59 verses, often doggerel, had some good fun in them. So they were all printed by instalments in successive numbers, despite the title of prologue which their author gives them. T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 148. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. WE have no Grub Street in our learned city ; ' NO nursery Winchester is no nursery of fools, But seat of chapter, college, clergy, schools ; To which, if universities we add, Our firm, how small soe'er the help thence had, Will still remain some good, indiffrent some, some bad ; Western our circuit, Winchester our sessions, From whence we make diversions and digressions, Of which the last at least, this wand'ring 's one, With more, were better ended than begun. From ' Poetical Prologue ' to Wheeler's Hampshire Magazine, 1828. FROM your Castalia's to our Itchin's rill, To the Muses From your Parnassus to our Cath'rine Hill, On which you most may take delight to rove, Surmounted with its Academic grove, Thither to lead the scholars of the College, Inspire them with your genius, taste, and knowledge ; Or to St. Cross's Pegaseian fount, Or Oliver's, for your Pierian mount ; Or to the distant Horse-shoe hills, if true, The Hippocrene of Hampshire there we view. On which of these 'tis your delight to wander, On banks of Itchin, or your own Meander May you on us, the suitors of the town, Your vot'ries, if not fav'rites, look down ! 60 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER For should it your wise mightinesses suit, As your own Orpheus tam'd the Grecian brute, You may enlighten our dark civic cit, And bless Boetian plains with Attic wit. From ' Poetical Prologue ' to Wheeler's Hampshire Magazine. 1828. The coming THE venerable city of Winchester is working itself up into very r I? 6 . 1 * 11110 * unwonted excitement. Coming into it to-day straight out of the [Edward vii.] hurly-burly of London, and strolling down its quaint old streets through the Cathedral Close, and out into the College grounds, I thought it looked exceedingly pleasant, and for all its babbling excitement wonderfully restful and placid. . . . The mayor has posted the town with bills referring to the arrival of the Prince of Wales, specifying the route he will take from the station to the College, and intimating that the mayor will deem it a great favour if householders along the route will decorate their fronts, and thus give a loyal welcome to the illustrious guest. The citizens seem to be responding heartily. The shops are trying to look busy, and the hotels are full. But for all its strenuous activity there is an air of slumbering peace about the old place with its ' meads ' and its gardens and its grand old cathedral and venerable trees, that it looks as though hardly anything could very greatly disturb. Daily News, July 25, 1893. George v. and ' It is a great pleasure to us to visit your famous city and at Winchester anc i en t capital of this country, and I am glad to remember its close associations with so many of my ancestors. Few cities can claim to have played so notable a part in the early history of this realm, and your citizens may feel just pride in the memories of the past brought constantly before them by the many old buildings which are still happily preserved to adorn your beautiful city.' The King's reply to the Mayoral Address. July 15, 1912. TOPOGRAPHY i. GREY CITY OF ETERNAL TOWERS WINCHESTER To R. D. B. O MOTHER of our golden hours, mother of Grey city of eternal towers, hours' Begirt with legendary walls, Lit with a fitful light that falls Aslant through mist and veiling rain ; As first we saw you, once again The memory of you rises clear, Distant indeed, but not less dear, And through the waste of space and time, in visions always near. Mother of longings and desires, Dim city of immortal spires, And leafless, silver trees, and woods Where the long winter silence broods, Upon whose stillness breaks alone The languorous, slow monotone Of some deep-voiced, regretful bell, Swinging reluctantly to tell His ancient message, and to breathe his old melodious spell. ^ Mother of memories and dreams, Pale city of slow-flowing streams That down a narrow channel wind, More white than pearl, and emerald-lined, 61 62 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Where vivid mosses turn and sway Their restless arms to meet the day. City of dreams that drowsily Glide southward in a reverie, And float their idle secrets down in whispers to the sea. Mother of marvel and delight, Rich city of enchanted night, Prisoned behind whose darkened bars Quiver a phantom host of stars, While spectral shadows dimly sweep Your sombre cloisters, dear to sleep, And through the slender tracery A winter moon looks lovingly, As though she longed to stoop and leave her palace of the sky. Mother of melodies and songs, To whom the meed of verse belongs, Whose beauty woke the heart and smote From Collins' lyre a tender note, And won a dearer spirit yet Whose star will never fade or set, Lionel, who left not all his days Songs for the singing of your praise, But ever at your altar laid his proud immortal bays. Poems by Griffith Fairfax. Smith, Elder and Co., 1908. Pillowed on PALE with ten centuries burden, mead hill' maadow and Pillowed on meadow and hill, Stands, England's past as her guerdon, England's prime Citadel still. Hard by where clear streamlets embower Chapel and Chamber and Court, Graced with youth's magical dower, Heirs of futurity sport. 'THAT JOLY CITE' 63 The soft moon smiles on the city And kisses its minster grey : The spirits troop from the churchyard, Shunning the glamour of day. Saxon and Dane and Norman, King, lord, and prelate proud ; Chaste dame, and fair pale damsel, Through the crumbling gateways crowd. And the mist with the dawn uprising, The ghostly pageant enshroud ! Song by C. H. H. in The Wykehamist, July, 1893. WITH respect ... to the site of Winchester ... it is one of one of the the best adapted spots in the kingdom for the residence of the fi * d be human species as, in fact, it is one of the first that was inhabited upon the peopling of our island. Milner, History of Winchester, 1798. EAST and west the hills (though then unspoilt by buildings) rose Fourteenth- above the town ; then, as now, the Itchen divided the low flat Winchester water meadows with many a silver thread ; and then, as now, St. Catherine's Hill a spur from the long down looked like an isolated sentry keeping guard outside the ancient capital lest any foe should come up the valley from Southampton Water ; only, instead of being crowned with a clump of trees, it was then consecrated by a small chapel (the foundations of which can still be discerned on the uneven grass), but which, disendowed by Cardinal Wolsey, was in the seventeenth century allowed to fall into decay. A. R. Bramston and A. C. Leroy. A City of Memories. P. and G. Wells, 1893. ME lyketh ever, the lengere the bet, That joly By Wyngester, that joly cite. cite ' The ton is god and wel y-set, The folk is comely on to see ; 64 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The aier is god both inne and oute, The citS stent under an hille ; The rivers renneth all aboute, The ton is rueted upon skille. Benedicamus Domino, Alleluia, Alleluia. De Walden MSS. Fifteenth-century verses. 'A body with- ON Thursday the 2ist of August [1623] I took Winchester in my way homewards, where I saw an ancient city, like a body without a soul and I know not the reason of it, but for ought which I per- ceived, there were almost as many parishes as people. I lodged at the sign of the Cock, being recommended to the host of the house by a token from Salisbury ; but mine host died the night before I came, and I, being weary, had more mind to go to bed than to follow him so long a journey, to do my message or deliver any commendations. But the whole city seemed almost as dead as mine host, and it may be they were all at harvest work. But I am sure I walked from one end of it to the other, and saw not thirty people of all sorts. So that I think if a man should go to Winchester for a goose, he might lose his labour, for a trader cannot live there by vending such commodities. John Taylor, the Water-poet. A New Discovery by Sea with a Wherry from London to Salisbury, 1623. in a WINCHESTER, about thirty miles from Abingdon, the chief and only city in Hampshire, is the next eminent place in the road (r. 1662) to Southampton, whose situation is in a pleasant bottom by a sweet river running among the hills. It is strongly immured with deep trenches, the wall that ingirts it containing two English miles or more. It has a castle, but now almost de- molished. It has also seven gates and seven churches, besides that stately ancient fabrick, the Cathedral, under whose vault do rest the bones of divers kings, some of whose bodies lie in AN AIR OF ANTIQUITY 65 chests of stone upon the high altar. Those sepulchres since the King's restoration have been beautified and adorned with colour, the oversight of these and other reparations in the church being left to the care of my worthy friend, Dr. Dayrell, one of the prebends, who has here built for himself and his succeeding prebends a very fair house ; he has also belonging to it a very fine garden, on one side of which there is such a wall of flint as for height the like is not to be seen. At the west end of the choir to which there is a fair ascent did stand in brass the effigies of King James and Charles the First, but before our return we then going a voyage to Newfoundland a few weeks after the beheading of the King they were pulled down, but since have been set up again. Here is erected by the present Bishop Morley near the church a good alms-house for such clergymen widows as stood in need of his charity. This city has been formerly adorned with nine churches whose ruins are now scarce discernible ; but at the west end of the Cathedral there still remains some part of a heathen temple ; 'tis a great thick piece of wall built of lime and flint, now more like a natural work than any artificial workman- ship, 'tis so strong cemented. And as touching the walls of the city, being built with the same materials, when any part has fallen, it lies like rocks several yards in length without separating, so skilful were they in former times in this sort of building. . . . Here is now kept one of the most famous schools in England, from whence do yearly go some hopeful scholars to New College in Oxon. Half a mile without Winchester in the way towards Hampton whither we are now going, doth stand St. Cross's church and hospital being endowed with good revenues. Hist. MSS. Com. (Duke of Portland MSS.), ii. 286. As to the town itself, the Buildings are not magnificent, but ' An Air of there appears such an Air of Antiquity in them, as makes them venerable. The Streets are broad and clean enough, and the Situation healthy and pleasant, being in a Valley between two E 66 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Looking from ' Hills ' The Second Earl of Oxford at Winchester very steep Hills, which defend it from cold Airs and boisterous Winds. The River Itching runs on the Borders of it. Magna Britannia (ed. 1720), ii. 857. AT Juvenis, cui sunt meliores pectore sensus, Cui cordi rerum species, et daedalus ordo, Et tumultum capit, et sublimi vertice solus, Quae late patuere, oculos fert singula circum. Colle ex opposite, flaventi campus arista Aureus, adversoque refulgent jugera sole : At procul obscuri fluctus, et rura remotis Indiciis, et disjunctae juga caerula Vectae : Sub pedibus, perfusa uligine pascua dulci, Et tenues rivi, et sparsis frondentia Tempe Arboribus, saxoque nidi venerabile templum Apparet, media riguae convallis in umbra. Turritum, a dextra, patulis caput extulit uhnis Wiccamici domus alma chori, notissima Musis : Nee procul ampla aedes, et eodem laeta patrono, Ingens delubrum, centum sublime fenestris, Erigitur, magnaque micant fastigia mole. Hinc atque hinc extat vetus Urbs, olim inclyta bello, Et muri disjecti, et propugnacula lapsa ; Infectique Lares, laevisque palatia ducta Auspiciis. Nequeunt expleri corda tuendo, Et tacitam permulcet imago plurima mentem. Mons Catharinae, by Thomas Warton. AFTER these views [of the city and its sights] we returned to our inn, very hungry, very wet, and very cold, for it was a drizzling rain all day. We had a very good dinner and a fish which is much prized and valued called a surmullet, but I did not like it ; we had most excellent whitings. I wish this poor narration may give you the thousandth part of the pleasure my dinner did me, and then it will be very well. Thus ended Tuesday, October 24, 1738. IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 67 Wednesday, October 24, 1738. We set out in the morning which was fine, and the remainder of the day proved so, and went to pay a visit and dine with my Lady Peterborough at her house at Mount Bevis according to her most kind invitation. We were extremely well entertained in all respects, but the most agreeable part was her conversation and cheerful behaviour, and genteel civility. We walked over the garden which was still new to me and most delightful, but the cross tide would not come up. I was very sorry that we could stay no longer, but the days were short and the ways not very good towards Winchester, but we were very thankful for the time and pleasure we had. I thank God we got safe to Winchester just as it grew dark. If you remember there was about two miles from Mount Bevis towards Winchester a sort of a pavilion upon the brow of a hill which you took for Mr. Holman's, but it is Colonel Fleming's that married a Crowley. . . . While I was at Winchester I did not hear one word of my old acquaintances, nor set eyes on them the day I walked over Winchester, and was in the school too, but the morning before I went to Mount Bevis, came some strange young gentlemen quite strangers to me, with their humble service and desired I would beg them a play. I sent them my service and that I begged their excuse for I could not possibly do it. Now just as I was going into my chariot on Thursday to go for Salis- bury I sent Rawlings with my service to Master Brudnells Master Tryons, desired to know how they did, and also to Master Bathurst that I wondered I had not seen him, being two days in Winchester. He said he was very sorry for it, but he heard I was gone out of town. Now my design was that as he had sent the young gentlemen to me, they should understand that if he had come himself I would have granted their request. Rawlings went to the school, they all flocked about him, were in hopes he came for a play, but blank was the word. A Journey through Hampshire, in the handwriting of the second Earl of Oxford, apparently addressed to his wife. Hist. MSS. Com. (Duke of Portland's MSS.). 68 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER STRAWBERRY HILL, September 18, 1755. Horace ... I WAS disappointed in Winchester : it is a paltry town waipoie dii- j^ sma n : King Charles the Second's house is the worst thing I ever saw of Sir Christopher Wren, a mixture of a town-hall and an hospital j not to mention the bad choice of the situation in such a country j it is all ups that should be downs. I talk to you as supposing that you never have been at Winchester, though I suspect you have, for the entrance of the cathedral is the very idea of that of Mabland. Horace Walpole to Richard Bentley. Letters (Clarendon Press ed.), iii. 341. Dr. Johnion THE same year [1778 according to Boswell, 1777 according to at Winchester charlotte Burney] Dr. Johnson not only wrote to Dr. Joseph Warton in favour of Dr. Burney's youngest son [Richard], who was to be placed in the college of Winchester, but accompanied him when he went thither. Boswell 's Life of Johnson. [Dr. Johnson had before visited Winchester in 1765 on his way to Devonshire with Reynolds (Leslie and Taylor, Life of Reynolds, i. 214), and writing to Dr. Warton in 1765 he says : ' Mrs. Warton uses me hardly in supposing that I could forget so much kindness as she showed me at Winchester. I remember, likewise, our conversation about St. Cross ' (WoolTs Warton, p. 309). In September 1770 he wrote to Dr. Warton : ' Make my compliments to Mrs. Warton. I sometimes think of wandering for a few days to Winchester, but am apt to delay ' (Boswell's Life of Johnson). Concerning the letter which Johnson wrote on behalf of Dick Burney, Mrs. Piozzi tells us how she had ' teized him many weeks to write a recommendatory letter of a little boy to his school- master ; and after he had faithfully promised to do this prodigi- ous feat before we met again " Do not forget dear Dick, sir," said I, as he went out of the coach ; he turned back, stood two minutes on the carriage step" When I have written my letter JANE AUSTEN 69 for Dick, I may hang myself, mayn't I ? " and turned away in a very ill humour indeed' (Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, ed. 1786). Further, Charlotte Burney tells us that Mrs. Thrale had ' in- teristed herself so much in regard to getting little Dick to Win- chester school (where he went on Tuesday last) that she has seemed to think of nothing else, and has not only made him a present of a piece of fine holland to set him up in shirts with but has likewise furnished him with an intire set of school books ' (F. Burney, Early Diary, ed. Ellis).] IN May 1817 she was persuaded to remove to Winchester for the jane Austen sake of medical advice from Mr. Lydford. . . . Jane and her sister Cassandra took lodgings in College Street. ... It was shortly after settling in these lodgings that she wrote to a nephew the following characteristic letter : 'MR. DAVID'S, COLLEGE ST., WINTON. Tuesday, May ' . . . Mr. Lydford says he will cure me, and if he fails, I shall draw up a memorial and lay it before the Dean and Chapter, and have no doubt of redress from that pious, learned, and dis- interested body. Our lodgings are very comfortable. We have a neat little drawing-room with a bow window overlooking Dr. Gabell's garden.' 1 A Memoir of Jane Austen, by J. E. Austen-Leigh. Richard Bentley, 1870. EVENING ON HILLS HERE where the legendary height Keats at Is plumed with beech and pine And the dim shadows lengthen, and the streams .Wane to the southward in the waning light And the skies grow from dreamy to divine, 1 The little low house with its characteristic bow window is a well- known feature of College Street. After Jane Austen's day it was long sacred to La Croix (' Octo ') and his ices and pastries. 70 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Here for five hundred years Have lived their little life Youth's hopes and fears, Here, in the land of Dreams. And one, who was not of us, here had past, Diana's kiss yet newly on his brow, And the great song, he knew not for the last, Still on his lips ; he saw the autumn glow On the low sallows, on the ' hilly bourn,' And sang full-voiced alas ! he could not know What shade, more dark than Autumn's shortening day, Was closing round him, not to pass away : It crept between him and his love forlorn, And hung a viewless veil 'twixt him and home, And tracked him o'er the foam, Till, under southern skies, mid vernal breath, It gathered and was Death, And gave him peace, and one more memory to Rome I Surely his nightingale it was that sang Last May, when all the thicket rang With the old echoes of the Daulian height, Till, at the noon of night, Sleep taught sweet silence to the singing-bird And scarce the reed-grass stirred. E. D. A. Morsehead. Winchester College, 1393-1893. Edward Arnold, 1893. WINCHESTER, August 15, 1819. An exceed- WE removed to Winchester for the convenience of a library, town'* 4 an ^ ^^ ** an exceeding pleasant town, enriched with a beautiful cathedral, and surrounded by a fresh-looking country. We are in tolerably good and cheap lodgings. John Keats to Benjamin Bailey. Letters of John Keats. Macmillan and Co., 1891. SIXPENCE A PINT 71 WINCHESTER, August 28, 1819. IT is more than a fortnight since I left Shanklin chiefly for me the purpose of being near a tolerable library, which, after all, is not to be found in this place. However, we like it very much : ever in it is the pleasantest town I ever was in, and has the most recom- mendations of any. There is a fine Cathedral which to me is always a source of amusement, part of it built fourteen hundred years ago and the more modern by a magnificent Man, you may have read of in our history, called William of Wickham. The whole town is beautifully wooded. From the hill at the eastern extremity you see a prospect of Streets, and old Buildings mixed up with Trees. Then there are the most beautiful streams about I ever saw full of Trout. There is the Founda- tion of St. Croix about half a mile in the fields a charity greatly abused. We have a Collegiate School, a Roman Catholic School ; a chapel ditto and a Nunnery ! And what improves it all is, the fashionable inhabitants are all gone to Southampton. We are quiet except a fiddle that now and then goes like a gimlet through my Ears our Landlady's son not being quite a Proficient. I have still been hard at work, having completed a Tragedy I think I spoke of to you. . . . For all I can guess I shall remain here till the middle of October. . . . My greatest regret is that I have not been well enough to bathe though I ... live now close to delicious bathing. . . . John Keats to Fanny Keats. Letters of John Keats. Macmillan and Go., 1891. WINCHESTER, September 5, 1819. . . . SINCE I have been here at Winchester I have been improving ' Sixpence in health it is not so confined and there is on one side of the a p City a dry chalky down, where the air is worth Sixpence a pint. . . . Brown likes the tragedy very much. ... I hope you will then not think my labour misspent. Since I finished it, I have IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER ' Not one loom' The Ere of St. Mark finished Lamia, and am now occupied in revising St. Agnes's Eve, and studying Italian. . . . John Keats to John Taylor. Letters of John Keats. Macmillan and Co., 1891. Saturday, September 18, 1819. THIS Winchester is a place tolerably well suited to me. There is a fine cathedral, a college, a Roman Catholic chapel, a Methodist do., and Independent do. ; and there is not one loom, or anything like manufacturing beyond bread and butter, in the whole city. There are a number of rich Catholics in the place. It is a respect- able, ancient, aristocratic place, and moreover it contains a nunnery. John Keats to George and Georgiana Keats. Letters of John Keats. Macmillan and Co., 1891. Monday, September 20, 1819. THIS day is a grand day for Winchester. They elect the mayor. It was indeed high time the place should have some sort of excitement. There was nothing going on all asleep. Not an old maid's sedan returning from a card-party ; and if any old women have got tipsy at christenings, they have not exposed themselves in the street. The first night, though, of our arrival here there was a slight uproar took place at about ten of the clock. We heard distinctly a noise patting down the street, as of a walking-cane of the good old dowager breed ; and a little minute after we heard a less voice observe, ' What a noise the ferril made it must be loose.' Brown wanted to call the constables, but I observed it was only a little breeze, and would soon pass over. . . . He ! He ! There is none of your Lady Bellaston ringing and rapping here ; no thundering Jupiter- footmen, no opera-treble tattoos, but a modest lifting up of the knocker by a set of little wee old fingers that peep through the grey mittens and a dying fall thereof. The great beauty of poetry is that it makes everything in every place interesting. THE EVE OF ST. MARK 73 The palatine Venice and the abbotine Winchester are equally interesting. Some time since I began a poem called ' The Eve of St. Mark,' quite in the spirit of quietude. I think I will give you the sensation of walking about an old country town in a coolish evening. I know not whether I shall ever finish it 3 I will give it as far as I have gone. Ut tibi placeat : THE EVE OF ST. MARK Upon a Sabbath-day it fell ; Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell, That call'd the folk to evening prayer ; The city streets were clean and fair From wholesome drench of April rains ; And, when on western window panes, The chilly sunset faintly told Of unmatured green vallies cold, Of the green thorny bloomless hedge, Of rivers new with spring-tide sedge, Of primroses by shelter'd rills, And daisies on the aguish hills, Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell : The silent streets were crowded well With staid and pious companies, Warm from their fireside orat'ries ; And moving, with demurest air, To even-song, and vesper prayer. Each arched porch, and entry low, Was fill'd with patient folk and slow, With whispers hush, and shuffling feet, While play'd the organ loud and sweet. Bertha was a maiden fair, Dwelling in the old Minster-square ; From her fireside she could see, Sidelong, its rich antiquity, 74 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Far as the Bishop's garden-wall, Where sycamores and elm-trees tall, Full-leav'd the forest had outstript, By no sharp north-wind ever nipt, So shelter'd by the mighty pile. Bertha arose, and read awhile, With forehead 'gainst the window-pane. Again she try'd, and then again, Until the dusk eve left her dark Upon the legend of St. Mark. From plaited lawn-frill, fine and thin, She lifted up her soft warm chin, With aching neck and swimming eyes, And dazed with saintly imageries. All was gloom, and silent all, Save now and then the still footfall Of one returning homewards late, Past the echoing minster-gate. The clamorous daws, that all the day Above tree-tops and towers play, Pair by pair had gone to rest, Each in ancient belfry-nest, Where asleep they fall betimes, To music and the drowsy chimes. John Keats to George and Georgiana Keats. Letters of John Keats. Macmillan and Co., 1891. A daily I TAKE a walk every day for an hour before dinner, and this is walk generally my walk : I go out the back gate, across one street into the cathedral yard, which is always interesting ; there I pass under the trees along a paved path, pass the beautiful front of the cathedral, turn to the left under a stone doorway then I am on the other side of the building which, leaving behind me, I pass on through two college-like squares, seemingly built for the MAIDEN-LADY-LIKE 75 dwelling-place of deans and prebendaries, garnished with grass and shaded with trees ; then I pass through one of the old city gates, and then you are in one college street, through which I pass, and at the end thereof crossing some meadows, and at last a country alley of gardens, I arrive, that is my worship arrives, at the foundation of St. Cross, which is a very interesting old place, both for its Gothic tower and alms square and for the appropriation of its rich rents to a relation of the Bishop of Winchester. Then I pass across St. Cross meadows till you come to the most beautifully clear river now this is only one mile of my walk. I will spare you the other two till after supper, when they would do you more good. You must avoid going the first mile best after dinner. John Keats to George and Georgiana Keats. Letters of John Keats. Macmillan and Co., 1891. WINCHESTER, September 22, 1819. THE side streets here are excessively maiden-lady-like : the door- ' Maiden- Icidv like ' steps always fresh from the flannel. The knockers have a staid, serious, nay almost awful quietness about them. I never saw so quiet a collection of Lions' and Rams' heads. The doors are for the most part black, with a little brass handle just above the keyhole, so that in Winchester a man may very quietly shut himself out of his own house. How beautiful the season is now. How fine the air. A temperate sharpness about it. Really, without joking, chaste weather Dian skies I never liked stubble-fields so much as now Aye, better than the chilly green of the Spring. Somehow, a stubble-field looks warm in the same way that some pictures look warm. This struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon it (e.g. The Ode to Autumn). John Keats to Reynolds. Letters of John Keats. Macmillan and Co., 1891. I CAME to this place in hopes of meeting with a Library, but was ' Aa quiet as disappointed. The High Street is as quiet as a Lamb. The a Lamb 76 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER knockers are dieted to three raps per diem. The walks about are interesting from the many old buildings and archways. The view of the High Street through the Gate of the City in the beautiful September evening light has amused me frequently. The bad singing of the Cathedral I do not care to smoke being by myself I am not very coy in my taste. At St. Cross there is an interesting picture of Albert Diirer's who living in such war- like times perhaps was forced to paint in his Gauntlets so we must make all allowances. John Keats to Hay don, October 3, 1819. Letters of John Keats. Published by Macmillan and Co., 1891. ' Winchester LOOKING down from this old West Gate a-top of the High Street, fields >C 't* 5 Peasant to see at the street's end a green hill rising bold and steep. Many a cheerful country walk stretches out from this ancient city ; through the meadows, with clear streams full of gliding fish and waving weeds, across little bridges, by willows and mills ; over breezy chalk-downs, wide-viewing, with farms and hamlets in their vales ; by shady roads and field-paths through the corn and clover. Here wandered once on a time, solitary and somewhat sad, a certain young poet now for ever young. In these fields, one Sunday, among the corn-stacks and orchards, he felt and sung the rich sadness of autumn. ' How beautiful the season is now,' he wrote to his friend Rey- nolds, 22nd September 1819, ' how fine the air a temperate sharpness about it. Really, without joking, chaste weather Dian skies. I never liked stubble-fields so much as now ay, better than the chilly green of Spring. Somehow a stubble- field looks warm in the same way that some pictures look warm. This struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon it.' ' Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! . . . Where are the songs of spring ? Ay, where are they ? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft -dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue. WINCHESTER STUBBLE-FIELDS 77 Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn, Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies ; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourne ; Hedge-crickets sing ; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.' Young Keats's gaze that Sunday evening was upon the Winchester stubble-fields like a spiritual setting sun, and left them lying enchanted in its fadeless light. William Allingham. Varieties in Prose, ed. by his widow, 1893. Longmans, Green and Co. October 31, 1825. WE went to King's Worthy, that is about two miles on the road The taste of from Winchester to London, and then, turning short on our left, ? cient Kings came up upon the downs to the north of Winchester Race-course. Here, looking back at the city and at the fine valley above and below it, and at the many smaller valleys that run down from the high ridges into that great and fertile valley, I could not help admiring the taste of the ancient kings who made this city a chief place of their residence. There are not many finer spots in England. Here are hill, dell, water, meadows, woods, cornfields, downs, and all of them very fine and very beautifully disposed. William Cobbett, Rural Rides, 1830. THE city of Winchester is situated principally on the eastern The city bank of the river Itchen. The High Street, which is about half ^ 185 a mile in length, extends from the bridge to West Gate, and from it diverge on both sides a number of less important streets. The portion of the town eastward of the river, and the southern suburb of the city, as confined within its ancient ramparts, have long been known as the Soke, and is a liberty belonging to the Bishop of Winchester, who appoints constables and other manorial officers. The houses have in general an unpretending appearance, and are mostly of modern erection, nearly the whole 78 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER of the antique buildings having gradually disappeared during the present century. Eighty years ago the town was neither paved nor lighted, whilst a gutter ran down the middle of the High Street, then extremely narrow in some parts and inconvenient and dangerous from the overhanging of many of the houses. In the wide part, now the fair ground, stood a number of dilapidated houses, amongst which were the County and City Bridewells. Prouten's Winchester Guide, c. 1850. Thii wonder- I HAVE been to Winchester again in order to show certain young friends this wonderful treasury of things ancient and lovely. They were rewarded for their trouble. As for myself, I am always rewarded for any amount of trouble in going to Winchester. Sir Walter Besant. High charges TRAVELLERS from London to the ancient and once royal city of bowB* Winchester get a very fine view, as they draw near it, of a wide stretch of downs on both sides of the railway, but that on the left much the widest. The great sweeping undulations of smooth green turf, with here and there a wood dotted over them, have been the scene of many a conflict in olden days, and many legends and traditions belong to particular sites. One conspicuous object has disappeared which I well remember on the most isolated of these downs : the semaphore [Greek= ' signal-carrier ']. The roof of the house, which stood on the apex of the hill, was furnished with signals, and there was a continuous line of them all the way to London. They were established in 1795, in the period of the great French war, to con- vey intelligence from Southampton and Portsmouth to London. The electric telegraph has superseded them, and most, if not all, of these ' houses set on a hill ' have been pulled down. As the train slackens speed we catch one glimpse, and only one, of the low central tower of the Cathedral. Very little of A PICTURESQUE STREET 79 the city is visible from the station, for it lies in a hollow, and the shoulder of the hill which flanks the Station Road on the city side hides it. On alighting, we may go down the broad but short Station Road to the site of the old city wall, turn to the right along Jewry Street, and so come into the middle of the ' High.' But instead of this we will keep along a footpath beside the line over the rising ground I have before mentioned. This brings us to the top of the ' High,' and we turn down it to the left. It is a con- tinuous but not steep descent for the whole length of the city. And Winchester High Street is the most picturesque that I know, at home or abroad. As soon as the West Gate is passed the picturesque character of the street becomes manifest. The buildings are not stately ; but the gables and varied heights, the low arcades, the great projecting clock, the graceful ' Butter- Cross,' all present an enchanting appearance ; the more so because some of the best shopkeepers have preserved the quaint fronts which were good enough for their forefathers, and have not been bitten by the desire for plate-glass. One of the old-fashioned shops formerly belonged to one who is said to have been the most prosperous tradesman in Winchester. ' However have you been able to make so much money ? ' said a friend to him. ' By always charging very high and bowing very low,' was the unhesitating answer. 'Winchester Cathedral,' by Canon Benham, in Our English Minsters. Isbister and Co., 1897. UPPER WINCHESTER, near the station, is becoming thoroughly coach villafied, as cockney-suburban in appearance as Haverstock Hill. But the entrance to a town from the railway station is almost always ugly. How pleasantly Winchester must have greeted the coach-traveller, whirling up the green valley, seeing the great Cathedral grow larger through its elms, 1 then turning a corner of 1 i.e. limes. 8o IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Famous for a bishop ! the Close, a comer of the High Street, into the courtyard of the ' George.' William Allingham. Varieties in Prose, ed. by his widow, 1893. Longmans, Green and Co. THE city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a bishop but he was unfortunately killed some years ago while riding a public school, a considerable assortment of the military, and the deliberate passage of the trains on the London and South- western line. R. L. S. and L. O., The Wrong Box, iv. 2. FAMILIAR LANDMARKS APUD HORTUM JUCUNDISSIMUM WlNTONIAE A Winchester Garden Ac nec deliciae, licet suaves, Tales te poterit diu tenere, Quin mirabere, quae micant utrinque Tecta ingentia, maximumque templum, 1 Antiquumque larem decus camenis 2 Hac dum prospicias, jugi sacrati 8 Sub cli vo ancipiti, domus superbae 4 Olim, fragmina vasta, diratasque Arces ; ah memor, hospes, esto, ut ipsae, Quas nunc egregio vides decoras Cultu, et magnificas, utrinque moles Mox traxisse queant parem ruinam Et musco jaceant situque plenae ; Quamvis utraque Wiccamus beatus Diti fecerit auxeritque sumtu, Te, Phoebi domus alma ; teque templum, Centum surgere jusserit columnis. Thomas Warton. The Cathedral. St. Giles' Hill. St. Mary's College. 4 Ruins of Wolvesey Palace. SHADOW-BLOTTED WATER 8l FROM the spring, whose ceaseless bubble The Itchen Freshly sings in summer heat Through the leas in mazy double, Washing every shy retreat ; Where gold-lidded king-cup flowers On my bosom loose their tears, Gathered from cool evening showers, Slip my waters through a thousand years. When my shadow-blotted water, Heaving, caught the dying sun, And the sail would droop and falter, And the silent boat slipt on ; On between the brimming rushes, Black against the lucent stream ; With the silence-smitten thrushes In black elm-boughs, it was sweet to dream. Sweet to watch the bursten hatches, Sunny foam and silver spray : More than sweet to him that watches, Loving, ere he turns away, But a sweeter band of union, Sons of Wykeham us enthralls ; With your sleep I held communion, Lapping low beneath your ancient walls. Now confused, now fresh and single, Came the voices of my stream, When my wave would mingle, mingle With the murmuring of your dream, "Syllables of pleasant burden, Never loud, though ever heard, ' Lovely calm, and all her guerdon,' That was ever my abiding word. F 82 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Rose this tower, crowned with graces, To a noble kingdom grew, Sending streams through sapless places, As I drench the meadows through, All around, the downs the scornful, Tawny, shrubless, parched with heat : All around, the fierce or mournful World of troubles hems thy cool retreat. In The Wykehamist, July i, 1893. By itchen'i I TELL you, scholar, when I sat last on this primrose-bank, and Bank * looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Charles the Emperor did of the city of Florence : ' That they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on holy days ' ; as I then sat on this very grass, I turned my present thoughts into verse : 'twas a wish which I '11 repeat to you. THE ANGLER'S WISH I in these flowery meads would be : These crystal streams should solace me ; To whose harmonious bubbling noise, I with my angle would rejoice, Sit here and see the turtle-dove, Court his chaste mate to acts of love ; Or on that bank, feel the west wind Breathe health and plenty, please my mind, To see sweet dew-drops kiss these flowers : Here hear my Kenna sing a song, There see a blackbird feed her young, Or a leverock build her nest j Here give my weary spirits rest, And raise my low-pitch'd thoughts above Earth, or what poor mortals love : THE COMPLEAT ANGLER 83 Thus free from law-suits and the noise Of princes' courts, I would rejoice, Or with my Bryan, and a book, Loiter long days near Shawford brook ; There sit by him and eat my meat, There see the sun both rise and set : There bid good morning to next day, There meditate my time away : And angle on, and beg to have A quiet passage to a welcome grave. Izaak Walton. The Compleat Angler, Part i. chap. v. SAY, father lichen, genial river, say, Fattier Itchen What stripling bards on Catherine's summit stray ; Where the deep Danish foss, and shatter'd heap Of turf-rais'd ramparts, crown'd th' encircled steep ; For many an infant muse in years unripe, Of thy rude reeds first fram'd his artless pipe. Thou in the vale hast spied thine Otway roam To yon old mansion's hospitable dome ; * Where kind Religion lavish'd heretofore On the poor pilgrim all her social store ; Where still Religion's charity bestows Help to the wayworn traveller as he goes. And he, sweet master of the pastoral oat, 2 Old Vaga's bard ! first fram'd his woodland note ; Here oft invoking Milton's laurel'd shade Qn thy lov'd banks his infant offring paid 5 Or sung in numbers wild, and simple strains, The blushing fruit of Ariconian 3 plains. 1 St. Cross. Phillips. 3 Herefordshire. 84 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER And he, whose Latian lines, by Maro's muse l Attun'd, more widely Milton's name diffuse. 'Twas thine, bless'd stream ! when first thy Pope had stray 'd With infant steps 'mid Twyford's glimmering glade, To catch the fancied theme, or moral tale Sung on thy banks, and echoed through thy vale ; There Young first found the various-sounding lyre That breathed on different themes an equal fire ; Whether with poignant wit he lash'd the age Or painted the dire fiends Revenge and Rage ; Or at deep midnight silent walk'd and slow, Indulg'd in grief, and pour'd forth strains of woe. ' The Prospect from the King's House, Winchester,' under 'Poetry,' The Hampshire Repository, 1798. SONNET TO THE RIVER ITCHEN, NEAR WINTON A sonnst ITCHEN, when I behold thy banks again, Thy crumbling margin, and thy silver breast, On which the self-same tints still seem'd to rest, Why feels my heart the shiv'ring sense of pain ? Is it that many a summer's day has past Since, in life's morn, I caroll'd on thy side ? Is it that oft, since then, my heart has sigh'd As Youth and Hope's delusive gleams flew past ? Is it that those, who circled on thy shore, Companions of my youth, now meet no more ? Whate'er the cause, upon thy banks I bend, Sorrowing, yet feel such solace at my heart, As at the meeting of some long lost friend, From whom, in happier hours, we wept to part. The Rev. W. L. Bowles. [The author notes as follows : ' The lines were composed on an evening journey from Oxford to Southampton, the first time I had seen the Itchen since I left school.*] 1 Dobson. THE KING'S HOUSE 85 . . . THERE are also, in divers rivers, especially that relate to, samlet in or be near to the sea, as Winchester, or the Thames about Windsor, the Itohen a little Trout called a Samlet or Skegger Trout ; in both which places I have caught twenty or forty at a standing, that will bite as fast and freely as Minnows j these be by some taken to be young Salmons, but in those waters they never grow to be bigger than a Herring. Izaak Walton. The Compleat Angler, Part i. chap. iv. Tuesday, October 24, 1738. FROM the church [Winchester Cathedral] we walked up the The King town and went to take a view of the King's House upon Hou8e the hill. It stands very high in a very fine country, and overlooks all Winchester and St. Cross. Here did anciently stand a castle, upon part of the site of the old castle now stands this building. This house was proposed for a hunting seat for the King, being in a fine sporting country and not far from the famous New Forest. The plan or design was made by Sir Christopher Wren, and I believe is better than ever he executed, because in this he was left to himself by the King. It was just covered in before the King died. There were five marble pillars with their capitals all wrought and put up in cases, which lay there till the late King's time, when the late Duke of Bolton begged them of the King, and they were granted to him, and he carried them away above three hundred waggon loads of marble to his house at Hackwood, and there they remain still boxed up, never put up, or even seen by mortal eye. The front of the house is to the east, and the middle part of the house fronts directly upon the west end of the Cathedral : the project was to have a street of two hundred feet in breadth, and to have been noblemen's and gentlemen's houses of each side ; this would have been fine. The front in the middle was com- posed of four Corinthian pillars and two pilasters. The middle part without the two wings was two hundred feet, the whole front with the wings was three hundred and thirty ; the wings 86 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER were joined to the body of the house by a fine colonnade. There was designed three cupolas, one upon each wing, and that in the middle, the third, to be so high that from thence you might see the men of war riding at Spithead. This was to please the King who loved the fleet of England, and also his successor the Duke of York, who was Lord High Admiral, and loved and understood the fleet of England. But his taste was not for building houses, for I do not know any- thing he built but a popish chapel which he had better have let alone. Pardon this digression. There was to be two chapels, one for the King and one for the Queen ; these were to go up two stories. The middle story rooms were to be twenty feet high ; the lower story and the upper story were to be fourteen feet in height. Queen Anne and Prince George went to see the house, and there was a staircase made for them to go up to the second floor, but the Queen liked Windsor much better, so in this sad condition lies the shell of this fine house. A Journey through Hampshire in 1738, in the handwriting of the second Earl of Oxford, apparently addressed to his wife (Hist. MSS. Com., Duke of Portland's MSS.). Miss Burney AUG. 2, 1791. We arrived early at Winchester but the town mug's House' was so * U N' as * ne Judges were expected the next morning, that we could only get one bedchamber, in which Mrs. Ord, her maid, and myself reposed. . . . We strolled about the upper part of the city leaving the Cathedral for the next morning. We saw a large, uniform, handsome palace, which is called ' The King's House,' and which was begun by Charles n. We did not, there- fore, expect the elegant architecture of his father's days. One part, they told us, was particularly designed for Nell Gwynn. It was never finished, and neglect has taken place of time in rendering it a most ruined structure, though as it bears no marks of antiquity it has rather the appearance of owing its destruction to a fire than to the natural decay of age. It is so spacious, how- ever, and stands so magnificently to overlook the city, that I wish HORACE WALPOLE 87 it to be completed for an hospital or infirmary. I have written Mrs. Schwellenberg an account of its appearance and state, which I am sure will be read by Her Majesty. Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay, London, 1842-46. THE upper street is not attractive till we come to the fine West The county Gate, which marks the line of the ancient wall on this side. Before passing through it we glance at the County Hall on our right. The history connected with it is not altogether pleasing. Charles n. had it in his mind to build a great palace here which should rival that of his brother (and master), Louis xiv., at Versailles. There were to be fine roads and broad terraces, reaching down from the palace to the west front of the Cathedral, in such wise as to make the latter a mere appendage to the royal residence. What a grievous burden the French palace was, and what a frightful tragedy to the King's family it played no small part in producing, history knows too well. England was perhaps spared a like tragedy by the profligate King's death. The part which he built is now turned into the barracks. But in the ancient hall adjacent hangs the celebrated Round Table at which, so legend tells, the knights of King Arthur sat. On the site of this hall William Rufus held godless festival, and in it Judge Jeffreys sentenced Alice Lisle to death. ' Winchester Cathedral,' by Canon Benham, in Our English Minsters. Isbister and Co., 1897. You impute to King William, Sir, the want of taste in Hampton Horace Court you therefore allow there was want of taste. Was I to blame when observing that want of taste ? I imputed it to House the architect. You will perhaps urge the same plea for the palace at Winchester. Forgive me if I say that to prove Sir Christopher had a taste for erecting palaces equal to what he had for churches, some building ought to be specified in which he has executed it. A prince may name some general style of building to his architect, but does not draw the design ; and 88 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER even if his choice is vicious, if the architect has taste he will exert it, even in an injudicious style. The truth is the fault was in the age, and to that I have already imputed it, not to your grandfather. Horace Walpole to Christopher Wren, August 9, 1764. Winchester VENTA ! thy castled steep's romantic fanes On yon lone brow scarce rear their rude remains ; Where erst 'mid high-arch'd halls, in princely state, Girt with his peers immortal Alfred sate ; To join in Chivalry's fantastic rites Each hardy tourney call'd the steel-clad knights, And many a minstrel sang the fabled lore To chear the war-worn chiefs with martial tales of yore. No more the moated castle's frame sublime Braves the wild waste of all-devouring time ; Fall'n are the massy spires of Norman state, Around is spread the scatter'd wreck of fate. 'Mid these rude scenes, and desolated tow'rs, High ruined piles, and dim sequestered bow'rs, At Charles's call another palace rears Her gorgeous dome, the pride of after years ; By Wren's fam'd hand, whose plan sublime but chaste, Attemper'd matchless skill with faultless taste, The stately mansion rose ; where mimic art Might lavish grace to naked scenes impart, With magic charms of livelier beauties please, And deck the court of indolence and ease. Now to our wond'ring, disappointed eyes, Rude and unwrought th' unfinished turrets rise, Reft is each Tuscan column's crested crown ; And time lias spurn'd the well-wrought arches down ; The trophied portals rang'd hi radiant row, No more with sculptur'd pannels proudly glow ; WOLVESEY PALACE 89 But o'er the naked steep, and shatter'd dome, Wide wasting ruin throws a gradual gloom. In these lone walls, this vacant sad retreat, Once a gay Monarch's happy, chosen seat, Where vaulted roofs, and long-drawn chambers shed A death-like silence, and an awful dread ] With voice unknown, the pensive captive train Wept o'er their wounds, and bore the galling chain ; Oft as they look'd tow'rds Gallia's distant shore, Much did the anxious thought of home, but more Of helpless wives, fond parents, children dear, Rush on their minds, and rouse the tender tear ; Yet sometimes pleasing hopes of future peace Would soothe each sigh, and bid each sorrow cease ; Would to their wishes tell the flatt'ring tale When they should cease their fate, as now, to wail ; No more in cells should waste the tedious day, But to their native climes resume their welcome way. On ' The King's House, Winchester,' under ' Poetry,' The Hampshire Repository, 1798. HERE is the bridge that spans it [the Itchen]. It is the site of The soke one of the many picturesque legends of St. Swithun, that of the Brldgie old woman's broken eggs, which he restored to her. But it also marks the former limit of the navigability of the Itchen. This river used to be popularly called, and may be so still for aught I know, ' the barge river.' . . . ' Winchester Cathedral,' by Canon Benham, in Our English Minsters. Isbister and Co., 1897. Tuesday, October 24. WINCHESTER. I think I left you at the College, if I mistake wolvesey not, at the end of my last. We went then a little lower down j^g 06 in to see the Bishop's palace. It was rebuilt by Bishop Morley soon after the Restoration. It is a good house, very good rooms 90 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER below, a very good large dining-room above, and a very handsome gallery. Bishop Trelawney much repaired it, and lived there a great part of his time. Trimnel liked it, but his time was short. There is an old chapel, there are very great ruins of the palace Cardinal Wolsey built, and even the new palace is called Wolsey House to this day. Bishop Trelawney had put upon the pillars that were of each side the gate two wolves, being his own crest. This Bishop [Hoadly] took them down, said it was too bare- faced to have wolves before an episcopal palace. He, good man, being Dr. Smooth, chooses rather to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. A little below the Bishop's house is the quay. The river is navigable to Winchester, boats of thirty and forty tons come up to the quay from Southampton. There is a very fine useful library here, the benefaction of Bishop Morley. We could not get to see it because that the person that had the key was gone out, and not to return in some days ; so being for public use and benefit designed by the good Bishop, this worthy person locks it up for his own private use, but more I suspect to hinder anybody else the use of it. I mention this with more concern because one of the noblest books that we have in the English Language was compiled by the sole help of this library: the book I mean is Mr. Bingham's Ecclesiastical History. A Journey through Hampshire in 1738, in handwriting of the second Earl of Oxford, apparently addressed to his wife (Hist. MSS. Com., Duke of Portland's MSS.). woiresey's COME roam with me 'neath Wolvesey's ruined pile, Ruined Pile -M i j i 1-1 Mid ivied stone and grass-grown courts awhile, And think of all that was in days gone by, When great De Blois reared up those turrets high, That bid defiance to proud Scotland's King And Glo'ster's earl. What sacred memories cling Around the walls that sheltered fugitives, And sheltering paid the cost ! Thy glory lives, O Wolvesey, shrined in words of the land ! Defaced and scarred by Cromwell's ruthless hand, THE BUTTER CROSS 91 Yet reared again from ruined majesty, Once more thou sawest the pomp and pageantry Of princely state troop through thy corridors, And feltest sainted footsteps tread thy floors. But now thy holy denizens have fled j Lo ! desecrating carpenters instead Defile thy hallowed haunts with hammerings. Shall it be ever thus ? No ! Once again Shall rise the Palace worthy of the Fane, Which now derisive, peeping through the trees, Soars high above such base indignities. Once more return ye Bishops in your might, Live in your palace, pity its sad plight. Ghosts of the Great, arise ! De Blois appear, With Langton, Fox, and Morley, hover near ; Chase from your home, the impious revel rout With Bell, Book, Candle, Crosier, poke them out, Rats, bandsmen, reptiles, carpenters and owls, Indifferent artists, cameras and fowls, Hutches and hammers, poultry, paint-pots, too, Away, away, with all the motley crew ! Hence, shows of flowers ! Hence flaunting fancy fairs, Find more congenial precincts for your wares ! Hence, past the walls that scorned 'fore foe to bend, Now fall'n to trait'rous and insidious friend ! Sweep out the scuttling pack and slam the gate ! If not restore, at least respect, poor Wolvesey's piteous state ! In The Wykehamist, March 1887. WE descend the High Street as far as the Butter Cross and The Butter examine it at leisure. Its surroundings are almost as picturesque CrOBS as itself. Look at that ' Piazza,' formerly better called ' the Penthouse,' the houses overhanging the street, the odd gables and barge-boards and rough ridge-tiles, and say what Continental 92 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER city has a more perfect setting for a piece of beautiful architecture. . . . ' Winchester Cathedral,' by Canon Benham, in Our English Minsters. Isbister and Co., 1897. 1 The aothic BY an archway, where the little church of St. Lawrence lurks market-cross' behind the houses< we pass into the High Street of the yfofa City (taking the old British name to have been Caer Gwent), and see its Gothic market-cross in a corner, beside the shop of a serious bookseller who is always to be found in ecclesiastical precincts. William Allingham. Varieties in Prose. Longmans, Green and Co., 1893. A grey land- WAS it blind bigot zeal that half enclosed mark of for- .,,, . , , ~ .. ... gotten time' This n ty Cross, grey witness of the past, Beneath those envious houses, whose bent brows With puritanic grimness frown on it, Hiding its beauty from the mid-day sun ? When the stern mansions totter to their base Rebuild them not, Wintonians ! let a spark Possess you of that noble fire that once Foiled antiquarian Dummer l of his prize And kept inviolate your royal city. Widen the public way, that so the Cross May boldly rear its light and graceful form Full in the general gaze . . . . . . When in the deep night The city lies in slumber, 'tis the hour To hold communion with the past, to live, Grey landmark of forgotten time, with thee 1 The Cross was secretly sold under an order of the Commissioners of Pavements in 1770 to Mr. Dummer of Cranbury Park, and scaffolds were raised to take it down and remove it to Cranbury, when the townspeople rose in defence, and, driving away the workmen employed to take it down, preserved it for Winchester. A GREY LANDMARK 93 As thou wert in thy youth then in the mart Of work-day traffic, 'mid the busy crowd Thou stood'st, a sacred monitor to man ; . . . Weary wayfarers And pilgrims on thy steps would rest, and breathe A passing prayer ; then wend, with courage new, Their toilsome way. A holy spot wert thou In the mid-city, where at every hour World-busy men communion held with Heaven. Ages have rolled, and thou, time-honoured Cross, No longer aw'st the multitude blind zeal Hath overthrown three statues of thy saints Yet one, St. Lawrence, holding the noble palm Of martyrdom, in Gothic niche enshrined Thou bearest, emblem of faith and constancy : But pilgrims call upon his name no more. Now on thy steps, old Cross, blithe children play Their merry gambols ; aged sires there rest Their weary limbs, and in the joyous scene Find antidotes for grief ; there pauses oft The antiquary full of curious lore, Musing on every stone the tourist there Will stop, guide-book in hand, admiring much Each airy arch and taper pinnacle. There the rich townsman, in the mellow fall Of age, from the world's harsher duties free, And vexed with none but magisterial cares, Pacing his much-loved city, will indulge Short converse with the aged grateful poor, And a gay laugh with prattling infancy : Then view with pride his City's antique Cross, And meditate upon the flow of time. Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. 94 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER From St. Giles's Hill ' That white cliff' ' Seint Gyles doune' ' Wlncheatre Faire' FROM St. Giles's Hill one looks down on the famous old city. Its Cathedral among lofty trees, Wykeham's College with the lads at cricket, the water-meadows leading to St. Cross, the swelling green downs with one grove, a ' peculiar coronet,' on St. Catherine's Hill, show fair in the May sunlight. Methinks a flagstaff would stand well at one angle of the low Cathedral tower. Brisk and clear runs the shallow river below, by small grey and red houses and their gardens, mill-sluices, the quaint little flint-built church of St. Peter's Chesil, and a vine-clad remnant of the city wall. William Allingham. Varieties in Prose. Longmans, Green and Co., 1893. THE curious stranger will not fail, whilst sojourning in Winchester, to ascend the top of that white cliff which overhangs the city, and once formed part of it, called St. Giles's Hill, where he will have the whole city under his feet, and command a bird's eye view of its streets, churches, palaces, and ruins, intermingled with gardens, fields, groves, and streams. Historical and Descriptive Guide to Winchester, 1829 ' PEACE ' ATTACKS ' WRONG ' (i.e. the King's purveyors) ' BOTHE my gees and my grys and my gras he taketh, Ich dar nouht for his felaweshepe in faith,' Pees seide, ' Bere sikerlich eny selver . to seint Gyles doune ; He waiteth ful wel whanne ich seluer take, What wey ich wende wel 3erne he aspieth, To robbe me and to ryfle me yt ich ryde softe.' Piers the Plowman, C. Passus v., 49-53. THENNE can Couetyse ich can not hym discryue, So hongerliche and so holwe. . . . ' Ich haue be coueitous,' quath thys caitiyf , ' ich by know hit here. For som tyme ich served . Symme at the style, And was his prentys yplyght . hus profyt to waite. WYNCHESTRE FAYRE 95 Furst ich lerned to lye a lesyng other tweye ; Wickedliche to weye was my furst lesson. To Wy and to Winchestre ich wente to the faire With many maner marchandises as my maister heghte ; Ne hadde the grace of gyle . gon among my ware, Hit hadde ben vnsold thys seuen 3er . so me god helpe ! Ich drow me among drapers . my donet to lerne, To drawe the lisure a-longe . the lenger it semed Among the riche rayes . ich rendered a lesson, To brochen hen with a batte-nelde and bond hem togederes j Ich putte hem in pressours . and pynned hem therynne, Tyl ten 3erdes other twelue tilled out threttyne. Piers the Plowman, C. Passus vii., 196-97, 206-220. 3UT thauh thei wenden on way as to Wynchestre fayre, The marchaunt with hus marchaundise may nat go so swithe As the messager may ne with so mochel ese For that on bereth bote a boxe a breuet ther-ynne, Ther the marchaunt ledeth a male . with meny kynne thynges, And dredeth to be ded there-fore and he in derke mete With robbours and reuers . that riche men dispoilen ; Ther the messager is ay murye hus mouthe ful of songes, And leyueth for hus letteres that no wight wol hym greue. Piers the Plowman, C. Passus xiv., 52-60. Wynchestre Fayre THE mayor is scorned ; no suppliant that day Humbly implores his worship to look gay : His keys are wrested from him, and his gown Stripped from his back, no longer awes the town. Quoted in A Guide to Winchester, W. Savage, 1869. [N.B. During the sixteen days of the St. Giles's fair in the time of Henry n., the mayor of the city gave up the keys of the four gates, and with them his authority, to a temporary magistrate appointed by the bishop.] The Humbled Mayor 9 6 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER St. Catherine's Winchester from ' Hills ' MANY of the Winchester recollections most indelibly fixed in my memory are connected with ' hills.' It seems impossible that sixty years can have passed since I stood on the bank of the circumvallation facing towards Winchester, and gazed down at the white morning mist that entirely concealed the city and valley. How many mornings in the late autumn have I stood and watched the moving, but scarcely moving, masses of billowy white cloud ! And what strange similitudes and contrasts suggested themselves to my mind as I recently looked down from the heights of Monte Gennaro on the Roman Campagna similarly cloud hidden ! The phenomenon exhibited itself on an infinitely larger scale in the latter case, but it did not suggest to me such thick-coming fancies and fantastic imaginings as the water-mead-born mists of the Itchen ! T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 106-8. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. WHEN in the morning air A Sabbath stillness reigns, And all below is bright and fair With sunlight over hills and plains, Come from the walled town, And climb the slope of some soft down That looks on Itchen's valley green, Where the thousand rills are seen That wind, a many-sparkling train, With their bright queen to the main, By many a bower, and many a grove, Which Venusia's bard might love Mount ye till on every side The thin-clad hills spread far and wide To where the green melts into blue, And earth and heaven recede from view : There pause awhile, and look ye down On the old grey Saxon town. MONS CATHARINAE 97 How nobly from the churchyard grove Rise the Cathedral walls above The regal city ! Many an age Hath stamped on them a deathless page. Listen to the deep-toned bell That from the massive tower doth swell And with a solemn grandeur fills The amphitheatre of hills, Where Winton lies embosomed deep, And Itchen loves its shade to keep In her clear mirror, till the grey Horizon steals it slow away. Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. AERII Catharina jugi qua vertice summo Mons Danorum veteres fossas, immania castra, Catbarinae Et circumducti servat vestigia valli, Wiccamicae mos est pubi celebrare palaestras Multiplices, passimque levi contendere lusu, Festa dies quoties rediit, concessaque rite Otia purpureoque rubentes lumine soles Invitant tetricae curas lenire Minervae, Librommque moras et iniqua remittere pensa. Thomas Warton. THOU grassy steep, that rear'st thy fir-crown'd head, 'THOU grassy The tow'ring monarch of the peaceful mead, While yet I view thy summit known so well, Receive a son of Wickham's last farewell ! Yes ! I have loved upon thy dizzy brow To gaze upon thy fair domain below, G IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Thy meadows water'd by a thousand rills, Yon barren amphitheatre of hills, Till my glad eye exulting wide to roam, Sought far beyond them all my island home ; And I have lov'd on thee reclin'd, to stray O'er the rude legends of thy early day, Then to my view gigantic forms would rise, The painted Briton with his azure eyes ; Again Caswallon, from his scythed car, Would hurl destruction through the ranks of war, Whirl his huge mace, nor fear again to feel The dint of Roman arm, the edge of Roman steel. But hark ! along the heights where now no more The humble chapel rears its sacred door, To fancy's ear, in measured cadence dim, Steals on the whispering breeze the vesper hymn ; Ave Maria ! thus the vestal throng Their Virgin Mother's evening chaunt prolong, While, as the mellow'd numbers float around, The hills responsive echo back the sound. ' To Catherine Hill, on leaving Winchester College,' The Hampshire Repository, 1828. on tbe BUT if perchance youth's gayer mood, brink of that The spirit bounding in the blood, huge foss ' Spurred them to exercise, they found Green stretches for their revel ground On the near Down ; their eager feet Spurned the crisp moss with bound as fleet As any now ; the rarer joy Lent vigour to the student boy. His brow was fanned by such a breeze As ruffles now St. Catherine's trees, THAT HUGE FOSS 99 Where mazes of the Labyrinth twine Beneath the murmur-haunted pine, Echoing the music that has been ; For then the martyr-maid was Queen Of that high hill. Full often there Would pilgrims climb the chalky stair, And voices at the chantry door Would lead them to the hallowed floor. Near to that crest, yet unprofane, Around the wide camp of the Dane, Gay sons of Wykeham scoured the sod, Sporting where once the warrior trod. And one might linger on the brink Of that huge foss awhile, to drink The freshness of the southern gale. Hark ! how the tolling vesper bells Break on the stillness of the fells From Winton's towers. He turns again ; The carpet of the emerald plain Sweeps up to red monastic walls, Grey fanes, and steeples, convent halls, Majestic, bravest, best array Of Piety's meridian day In England's stateliest city ; there The homes of Charity and Prayer Are crowded in sweet union, save Where Itchen's cool dividing wave Feeds garden greeneries. And now, As from the sounding towers below Thick calls of evening come, his eye Rests on the gleaming symmetry Of those long lines which Wykeham gave To bear the heaven-aspiring nave j zoo IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER On storied chapel windows yet Fresh from his chisel, jewels set In branching stone j on that fair tower High pinnacled in elmy bower, Youngest among the clashing spires, Whose vesper bells shall sound when theirs For ever cease. W. Moore. Venta and other Poems. D. Nutt, 1882. at Crow IT is beautifully situated on the river bank, and embowered on the south among shady stately trees, so calm and peaceful, that a good man might choose to die in it. M. E. C. Walcott. Memorials of Winchester, 1866. ' Amid tunny IN the well-watered valley of the Itchen, amid sunny hills and flowery meads, the position of St. Cross offers no exception to the proverbial sagacity with which our forefathers chose the sites of their religious houses and charitable foundations. Distant only a mile from the Cathedral City, and within a few yards of the high road to Southampton, the lofty church of De Blois rises majestically from the midst of the domestic buildings which are picturesquely grouped about it ; and, fringed by luxuriant elms and magnificent walnut-trees, presents an aspect as charming as it is imposing. Thus situated it is a conspicuous object to the traveller approaching Winchester from various directions, and from a considerable distance. And on a nearer approach, the lower buildings, which cluster round the church, add their full share to the general effect. This is more especially the case from the Southampton direction, whence the noble gateway of Beaufort, the refectory with its striking porch, and the long range of tall, quaint chimneys combine, with the church and the foliage, and the occasional peeps of the river between the trees, and St. Katharine's Hill in the background, to form a complete picture. ST. CROSS 101 Let us enter the well-kept quadrangle, or, as it is more usually termed, the court, from the direction just indicated. Leaving the high road by the little wicket gate, crossing the green close, leaving the old walnut-trees on the right hand, across the corner of the park, we pass through the iron gate into the Hospital premises. We are at once impressed by the calm repose of the antiquated place, which certainly possesses an indescribable air of its own ; and, with its tall box edgings, and old-fashioned flowers, and luxuriant fig-trees, vines, and creepers, is very unlike an ordinary college quadrangle. . . . A Guide to the Hospital of St. Cross, by the Rev. L. M. Humbert (thirteen years Master of St. Cross). W. Savage, 1869. LOOK at yon archway, which the hand of time Has touched but to adorn the well-head there Which from King Stephen's brother, good De Blois, Took rise, flows yet. The houseless wanderer, Footsore and famished, no sleek menial finds To spurn him from that gate : the brother there Welcomes each outcast of the churlish world, And for his hunger carves the wheaten loaf, And fills the goblet to his thirsting lip ; Then speeds him on his way with friendly speech, Kind words, whose every tone is charity ; And with a lighter heart and nimbler step The poor man journeys on. The swallow knows And cherishes the dome ; for he fears not Each spring to build his clayey tenement Even in the hospitable porch. Heaven wraps These quiet walls in a sweet atmosphere Of peace and love. Pass we beneath the Lodge. See where, with silver cross upon his breast, The porter stands. . . . Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. St. Cross : an ideal of Charity 102 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Ploni roofs ' Henry de Blois HAIL ! pious roofs, by grateful Henry raised, Where toil-worn age may rest, and Christ be praised ! The tidal sweep of time on kindred halls Has scarcely left a remnant of their walls, Save where that faithful friend to ruined things, The mantling ivy, timely succour brings, And by her strong, tough arms and hands sustains The crumbling vestiges of what remains. But thine, St. Cross, a kinder fate have found ; No rums here deform thy hallowed ground ; Nor e'er has echo from thy towers been driven Since first they rose and heard the song of heaven. Quoted in Canon Humbert's Hospital of St. Cross, 1868. ONE charitable deed is father still To many more : . . . and thus through time The streams of wisdom and of charity Are ever fed, still widening as they flow ; E'en as yon Itchen, whose translucent wave In narrow bed these venerable walls Now sweetly laves ; then, widening through the vale, Far down a broad and ample water rolls Into the friendly Solent. May De Blois Be cherished here till Itchen cease to flow ! Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. Emerson at JUST before entering Winchester, we stopped at the Church of Saint Cross, and, after looking through the quaint antiquity, we demanded a piece of bread and a draught of beer, which the founder, Henry de Blois, in 1136, commanded should be given to every one who should ask it at the gate. We had both from the old couple who take care of the church. Some twenty people every day, they said, make the same demand. This hospitality of seven hundred years' standing did not hinder C. from pronouncing a malediction on the priest who receives WHITEWASHED WALLS 103 2000 a year, that were meant for the poor, and spends a pittance on this small beer and crumbs. Emerson, English Traits, 1856. Concerning a Journey to England in 1833 and 1847. APART from the picturesque beauty and architectural importance st. cross in of the buildings, the ancient character of the Institution, one of the Flfties the few now left to us of its kind, with its common brotherhood, its religious garb, and its old form of hospitality, affords a link with ages gone by, which the Conservative character of our nation. makes us cherish gratefully. Unfortunately, how- ever, Conservatism has not always been discriminating as to what is worth preserving, and the Masters of St. Cross have, with the dole and the silver cross, tenaciously kept up other institutions of far more objectionable character. Thus, the Hospital archives record of one in the last century, that ' he died three weeks after he had whitewashed the church.' Mark, this is by no means to be regarded as a judgment on him ; on the contrary, as memorial records are always framed upon the principle of de mortuis nil nisi bonum, it is rather to be construed as if he had added one more jewel to his crown and so was ripe for departure. And when I last saw St. Cross in the Exhibition year of 1851, that new era of light in art, the walls of the church had just received their periodical coating, at the especial com- mand, as I was told, of the Master. Under the whitewash regime, then, the condition of Holy Cross Church had become rather discouraging, when the present enlightened Master first assumed the silver cross. The nave was a desert, the choir and sanctuary were blocked up with pews, dirt (save the white- wash) damp and decay reigned everywhere, and things probably would have been even worse, but for the archaeological and historical interest attaching to the place, which brought it much under the notice of outsiders. Moreover, the most beautiful feature of the building, the east end, was disfigured by the zeal of a good Warden (he was no Conservative), who had 104 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER ' Restora- tions ' in Winchester A kind Retreat blocked up the wonderful Norman windows with a Perpendicular reredos. Quoted in The Hospital of St. Cross, by the Rev. L. M. Humbert, 1868, App. i. THE western porches of the Cathedral have been done-up, and look as pretty as a wedding-cake ; the college chapel has been done-up | old St. Cross is partly done-up well or ill I say not, but done-up they are ; and whoever likes clean white stone- work, like a door-step on Sunday morning, and fresh paint, and the brightest coloured glass that an eminent London firm can manufacture, and no trace left that can be obliterated of Time's finger, in tint or line, must be pleased with what he finds going on in nearly every old place in England. Yet what boots grieving ? The use and significance of a structure gone, how should the thing escape ruin of one kind or another ? The piety and humanity that founded St. Cross church, almshouses, dole of food to the wayfarer sad ghosts of these haunt their ancient cloister. The realities have fled away, to find (we will hope so) new and fitter mansions. Here is no visible ruin as yet, for this endowment remains a legal and arithmetical fact, with some significance to the thirteen old men, much to the wealthy nobleman, their ' master.' William Allingham. Varieties in Prose. Longmans, Green and Co., 1893. BELOVED St. Cross ! where all thy charms combine That warm the canvas or that grace the line ; Thou kind retreat from sorrow and from care, With sparkling waters and a balmy air ; Amid thy meadows green and peaceful shades, Thy crowning hills and long deep bow'ry glades, What troubled heart can fail in thee to find Health for the body, solace to the mind. Quoted in A Guide to the Hospital of St. Cross, by the Rev. L. M. Humbert. William Savage, 1869. SAINT SWITHUN'S CHURCH 105 ST. SWITHIN, the weather-famous, besides his share of patronage st. swithun's in the Cathedral, has a little parish-church of his own, built by . C . hu 5 c j and J its Patron King John over the postern of St. Michael. Swithin, Bishop of saint Winchester, dying circa 865, his body (as the story goes) was buried at his own request, out of humility perhaps, not in the Cathedral, as usual with bishops, but in the churchyard, where the drops of rain might wet his grave ; afterwards, when he was canonised, the monks resolved to move his bones into the Cathedral, and the i5th of July was fixed upon for the ceremony ; but on that day, and for forty days in succession, it rained so violently that the plan was given up as displeasing to the saint, and they built, instead, a chapel at his grave, where many miracles were wrought. Such the tradition, with its postscript that, ever since, the weather on St. Swithin's Day, be it wet or dry, will hold for thirty-nine days following. William Allingham. Varieties in Prose, ed. by his widow, 1893. Longmans, Green and Co. MR. HARDING did not go out to Crabtree Parva. An arrangement st. swithun's, was made which . . . put Mr. Harding into possession of a ^g^J***^ small living within the walls of the city. It is the smallest st. cuthbert's, possible parish, containing a part of the Cathedral Close and Barcheste a few old houses adjoining. The church is a singular little Gothic building, perched over a gateway, through which the Close is entered, and is approached by a flight of stone steps which leads down under the archway of the gate. It is no bigger than an ordinary room perhaps twenty-seven feet long by eighteen wide but still it is a perfect church. It contains an old carved pulpit and reading-desk, a tiny altar under a window rilled with dark old-coloured glass, a font, some half-dozen pews, and perhaps a dozen seats for the poor, and also a vestry. The roof is high pitched, and of black old oak, and the three large beams which support it run down to the side walls and terminate in grotesquely carved faces two devils and an angel on one side, two angels and a devil on the other. Such is io6 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The Russian Winter around Winchester the church of St. Cuthbert at Barchester, of which Mr. Harding became rector, with a clear income of seventy-five pounds a year. Anthony Trollope, The Warden. Rus IN URBE WHILE railings run round Russia's gun, The city's quiet Attempts to kerb do but disturb And rouse a riot. Since some have sinned, some must rescind Their former fiat. O. W. The Wykehamist, June 1908. FAREWELL those gentler seasons of the year, Young Spring, who fill'd with flow'rs the willing soil ; Summer, whose sunbeams nurs'd the foodful ear ; With Autumn, grateful to the reaper's toil ; For lo, sad change ! from yonder gathering cloud Stern Winter wildly drives his dark array : From the keen North the winds are piping loud, As through the yielding woods they sweep their way. Where are those rural charms that fed my eyes, The cowslip'd meadow, and the hedge-row green ? In one wide waste the snow-clad Landscape lies ; And Frost with withering hand deforms the scene. I sought the copse, the joyous thrush's haunt ; For much I wish'd her melody to hear ; In vain I woo'd her to begin her chaunt, Nor joyous thrush, nor melody was there. In social troops the silent larks are found, Picking with busy bill their scanty food ; Ah me, I hear the gun's destructive sound, And the snow blushes with their harmless blood ! TESS OF THE D 'U RBER VI LLES 107 At ev'ry bush, at ev'ry sudden breeze, Starts the lone Trav'ler on his wilder'd way ; In his own shade a thousand deaths he sees, And stops, and pants, and listens in dismay. Winter, a poem begun at Winchester School, 1757, by William Lipscomb. [N.B. Though not directly dealing with Winchester, this youth- ful verse is so evidently inspired by scenery around Win- chester, that its insertion here may perhaps be forgiven.] WINCHESTER hath 4 tavernes, Joan Prat, Anne Bud, Thomas Taverns Buxton and Cornelius Brexton. At Soake, neere Winchester, three, William Pope, John Noake, and Walter Travers. John Taylor, the Water-poet. A Catalogue of Tavernes in ten Shires, 1636. 3. WINCHESTER IN FICTION THE city of Wintoncester, that fine old city, aforetime capital of ' winton- Wessex, lay amidst its convex and concave downland in all the ce8 er brightness and warmth of a July morning. The gabled brick, tile, and freestone houses had almost dried off for the season their integument of lichen, the streams in the meadows were low, and in the sloping High Street, from the West Gateway to the mediaeval cross, and from the mediaeval cross to the bridge, that leisurely dusting and sweeping was in progress which usually ushers in an old-fashioned market-day. From the Western gate aforesaid the highway, as every Wintoncestrian knows, ascends a long and regular incline of the exact length of a measured mile, leaving the houses gradually behind. Up this road from the precincts of the city two persons were walking rapidly, as if unconscious of the trying ascent unconscious through preoccupation and not through buoyancy. io8 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER They had emerged upon this road through a narrow barred wicket in a high wall a little lower down. They seemed anxious to get out of sight of the houses and of their kind, and this road appeared to offer the quickest means of doing so. Though they were young they walked with bowed heads, which gait of grief the sun's rays smiled on pitilessly. When they had nearly reached the top of the great West Hill the clocks in the town struck eight. Each gave a start at the notes, and, walking onward yet a few steps, they reached the first milestone, standing whitely on the green margin of the grass, and backed by the down, which here was open to the road. They entered upon the turf, and impelled by a force which seemed to overrule their will, suddenly stood still, turned, and waited in paralysed suspense beside the stone. The prospect from this summit was almost unlimited. In the valley beneath lay the city they had just left, its more prominent buildings showing as in an isometric drawing among them the broad cathedral tower, with its Norman windows and immense length of aisle and nave, the spires of St. Thomas's, the pinnacled tower of the College, and more to the right the tower and gables of the ancient hospice, where to this day the pilgrim may receive his dole of bread and ale. Behind the city swept the rotund upland of St. Catherine's Hill; further off, landscape beyond landscape, till the horizon was lost in the radiance of the sun hanging above it. Against these far stretches of country rose, in front of the other city edifices, a large red-brick building, with level grey roofs, and rows of short barred windows bespeaking captivity, the whole contrasting greatly by its formalism with the quaint irregularities of the Gothic erections. It was somewhat dis- guised from the road in passing it by yews and evergreen oaks, but it was visible enough up here. The wicket from which the pair had lately emerged was in the wall of this structure. From the middle of the building an ugly flat-topped octagonal tower HENRY ESMOND 109 ascended against the east horizon, and viewed from this spot, on its shady side and against the light, it seemed the one blot on the city's beauty. Yet it was with this blot and not with the beauty, that the two gazers were concerned. Upon the cornice of the tower a tall staff was fixed. Their eyes were riveted on it. A few minutes after the hour had struck something moved slowly up the staff, and extended itself upon the breeze. It was a black flag. . . . Tess of the D'Urbervilles, by Thomas Hardy. Macmillan and Co., Ltd. MY lord's little house of Walcote, 1 which he inhabited before he Esmond's took his title and occupied the house of Castlewood, lies about ^f^ a mile from Winchester, and his widow had returned to Walcote ' dear after my lord's death as a place always dear to her, and where mist her earliest and happiest days had been spent, cheerfuler than Castlewood, which was too large for her straitened means, and giving her, too, the protection of the ex-Dean, her father. The young Viscount had had a year's schooling at the famous College there with Mr. Tusher as his governor. So much news of them Mr. Esmond had had during the past year from the old Viscountess, his own father's widow ; from the young one there had never been a word. Twice or thrice hi his benefactor's lifetime, Esmond had been to Walcote ; and, now, taking but a couple of hours' rest only at the inn on the road, he was up again long before daybreak, and made such good speed, that he was at Walcote by two o'clock of the day. He rid to the inn of the village, where he alighted, and sent a man thence to Mr. Tusher with a message that a gentleman from London would speak with him on urgent business. The messenger came back to say the Doctor was in town, most likely at prayers in the Cathedral. My Lady Viscountess was there too ; she always went to Cathedral prayers every day. The horses belonged to the post-house at 1 Probably Prior's Barton House. no IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Winchester. Esmond mounted again, and rode on to the George ; whence he walked, leaving his grumbling domestick at last happy with a dinner, straight to the Cathedral. The organ was playing : the winter's day was already growing grey : as he passed under the street-arch into the Cathedral-yard and made his way into the ancient solemn edifice. There was a score of persons in the Cathedral besides the Dean and some of his clergy, and the choristers, young and old, that performed the beautiful evening prayer. But Dr. Tusher was one of the officiants, and read from the eagle, in an authoritative voice and a great black periwig ; and in the stalls, still in her black widow's hood, sat Esmond's dear mistress, her son by her side, very much grown, and indeed a noble- looking youth, with his mother's eyes and his father's curling brown hair, that fell over his point de Venise a pretty picture such as Vandyke might have painted. Mons. Rigaud's portrait of my Lord Viscount, done at Paris afterwards, gives but a French version of his manly, frank English face. When he looked up there were two sapphire beams out of his eyes, such as no painter's palette has the colour to match, I think. On this day there was not much chance of seeing that particular beauty of my young lord's countenance ; for the truth is, he kept his eyes shut for the most part, and, the anthem being rather long, was asleep. But the musick ceasing, my lord woke up, looking about him, and his eyes lighting on Mr. Esmond, who was sitting opposite huii, gazing with no small tenderness and melancholy upon two persons who had had so much of his heart for so many years ; Lord Castlewood, with a start, pulled at his mother's sleeve (her face had scarce been lifted from her book), and said, ' Look, mother ! ' so loud, that Esmond could hear on the other side of the church and the old Dean on his throned stall. Lady Castlewood looked for an instant as her son bade her, and held up a warning finger to Frank ; Esmond felt his whole face flush, A WELCOME BACK in and his heart throbbing, as that dear lady beheld him once more. The rest of the prayers were speedily over. Mr. Esmond did not hear them ; nor did his mistress, very likely, whose hood went more closely over her face, and who never lifted her head again until the service was over, the blessing given, and Mr. Dean and his procession of ecclesiasticks out of the inner chapel. Young Castlewood came clambering over the stalls before the clergy were fairly gone, and running up to Esmond, eagerly embraced him. ' My dear, dearest old Harry,' he said, ' are you come back ? Have you been to the wars ? You '11 take me with you when you go again ? Why didn't you write to us ? Come to mother.' Mr. Esmond could hardly say more than a God bless you, my boy, for his heart was very full and grateful at all this tender- ness on the lad's part ; and he was as much moved at seeing Frank, as he was fearful about that other interview which was now to take place ; for he knew not if the widow would reject him as she had done so cruelly a year ago. ' It was kind of you to come back to us, Henry,' Lady Esmond said. ' I thought you might come.' . . . She gave him her hand, her little fair hand : there was only her marriage ring on it. The quarrel was all over. ... It was a rapture of recon- ciliation. ' Here comes Squaretoes,' says Frank. ' Here 's Tusher.' Tusher, indeed, now appeared, creaking on his great heels. Mr. Tom had divested himself of his alb or surplice, and came forward habited in his cassock and great black periwig. How had Harry Esmond ever been for a moment jealous of this fellow ? ' Give us thy hand, Tom Tusher,' he said. The chaplain made him a very low and stately bow. ' I am charmed to see Captain Esmond,' says he. ' My lord and I have read the Reddas incolumen precor, and applied it, I am sure, to you. You come back with Gaditanian laurels : when I heard you were bound thither, I wished, I am sure, I was another Septimius. H2 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER My Lord Viscount, your lordship remembers Septimi, Codes aditure mecum ? ' ' There 's an angle of earth that I love better than Gades, Tusher,' says Mr. Esmond. ' 'Tis that one where your Reverence hath a parsonage, and where our youth was brought up.' ' A house that has so many sacred recollections to me,' says Mr. Tusher, . . . ' a house near to that of my respected patron, my most honoured patroness, must ever be a dear abode to me. But, madam, the verger waits to close the gates on your ladyship.' Thackeray, Henry Esmond. Henry . . . THE family parted long before midnight, Lady Castle- spends New wood remembering, no doubt, former New Year's Eves, when Year a Eve at healths were drunk, and laughter went round in the company 1703 of him to whom years, past and present and future, were to be as one ; and so cared not to sit with her children and hear the Cathedral bells ringing the birth of the year 1703. Esmond heard the chimes as he sate in his own chamber, ruminating by the blazing fire there, and listened to the last notes of them, looking out from his window towards the city, and the great grey towers of the Cathedral lying under the frosty sky, with the keen stars shining above. Thackeray, Henry Esmond. Cock-aght at ' COME along and let 's go see the cocking-match at Winchester.' Winchester My young Lord Viscount was exceedingly sorry when he heard that Harry could not come to the cock-match with him, and must go to London ; but no doubt my lord consoled himself when the Hampshire cocks won the match ; and he saw every one of the battles, and crowed properly over the conquered Sussex gentlemen. Thackeray, Henry Esmond. Tiie Black ' Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to- morrow,' it said. ' Do come I I am at my wit's end. HUNTER.' OLD BOB 113 ' Will you come with me ? ' asked Holmes, glancing up. ' I should wish to.' ' Just look it up, then.' ' There is a train at half-past nine,' said I, glancing over my Bradshaw. ' It is due at Winchester at 11.30.' ' That will do very nicely. . . .' By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English capital. . . . All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farmsteads peeped out from amidst the light green of the new foliage. . . . ' Well, there is the tower of the Cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell.' The ' Black Swan ' is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. 'The Copper Beeches,' among the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, by A. Conan Doyle. George Newnes, 1892. i OLD BOB, in the face, was rather like Socrates ; in form, save as old Bob ' J to shoulders, he strongly resembled Punch. . . . He dressed the character of the old schoolmaster, from the shovel-hat and powdered bald head to the gaiters, as correctly as if he proposed to act it in a farce. ... In general Old Bob was good-tempered, patient and forbearing, not punishing without fair warning, and then with deliberate dignity. But on peculiar provocation, as by anything like the exhibition of a mutinous spirit, especially on the part of a big boy, he lost all control of himself. His face grew pale, his eyes twinkled ominously, he would puff his cheeks out, 1 The Hyde Abbey Boys' School, Winchester, was founded about 1760; it ended in 1833 on death of Rev. Chas. Richards (' Old Bob '), who was schoolmaster for fifty years, thirty-one of which he was also vicar of the parish. He retired in 1828, and on his death the whole of the premises were put up to auction. H IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER ' Whipping VLB up Parnasius ' ' Example is better than Precept' and his whole form appeared actually to swell. Then, pulling up his nether garments a habit with him when in a rage and his voice shaking with passion, he would exclaim, ' Take care, Sir. Let me not hear thee say that again. If thou dost, I '11 whip thee. I 'd whip thee if thou wast as high as the house ! I 'd whip thee if thou wast as big as Goliath ! ! ' and it was generally understood among us that he would have done so in either case. . . . A Sample of the Old School/ in Household Words, May 18, 1850. . . . SUCH implicit confidence had Old Bob in birch that he imagined he could absolutely whip us up Parnassus, and he very often flogged a boy for not being able to do his verses. ' I '11 make thee a poet, my boy,' he used to say, ' or the rod shall.' Ibid. OLD BOB had a very high idea of the force of example. Incred- ible as it may appear, it is a fact that he would send a trouble- some pupil to see an execution (at Winchester Gaol). I once witnessed him doing this. The boy in question was incorrigibly mischievous, and given to roguish pranks. Addressing him by name, Old Bob said, ' There is a man to be hanged this morning. Go and see him, my boy. Thou art a bad boy, and it will do thee good. You ' turning to an elder boy ' you go with him and take charge of him.' Truly this was carrying out the principle of ' the good old school.' Ibid. PART II THE CATHEDRAL i. THE VENERABLE PILE THERE is a giant massy pile uprears A giant His head at Winchester ; the very stones massy pile' Are History ; the ancient coffined bones Of Saxon kings, brings back the bygone years Of Egbert's sovereignty ; the solid tiers Of pillars, where the organ's solemn tones Float wondrously, recall the tyrant thrones Of Norman dynasty ; most fitting chroniclers. The Western Window, all its tinted glass Destroyed by Cromwell's soldiery ; the screen Of richest Gothic carving, once a mass Of ornament, now shorn of silver sheen By fierce Iconoclast j the rich deep glow Of Eastern Window ; each their story show. 'Winchester Cathedral,' by 'Old Wykehamist.' In The Wykehamist, October 1886. THE cathedrale chirch and the close lyith on the south side of 'The the towne, and is in cumpace with the cemitery nere half a j!^ e jf? ale mile ; and one side of it hemmith in the toune as the waul of it, even almost from the Kinges Gate to the very palace waulle of Wolvesey. John Leland's Itinerary. AND now we are in the Cathedral yard, a spot crowded with Grand and historical memories. At the corner we entered, reaching from 80lenm Great Minster Street to Market Street, and from the High 115 Ii6 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Street to the Square, was the palace of William the Conqueror ; east of that as far as the end of the Cathedral yard, was ' the New Minster ' ; and beyond that again St. Mary's Abbey of Nuns, the Nunnamestre. The New Minster, so called to distinguish it from the Old that is, the Cathedral, with its monastery was founded by King Alfred, under the learned St. Grimbald, for the purpose of the education of priests and young nobles of his court. Within this New Minster Alfred himself was buried. But now look at the Cathedral west front through the stately vista of limes and the huge nave. No one will deny that it looks heavy in its massiveness, with nothing to break the lines, only a very low tower at the intersection of the transepts in their great Norman simplicity, almost as Bishop Walkelin left them 800 years ago. It is all very grand and solemn in the still churchyard, but the visitor at first sight would hardly put this in the first rank of cathedrals. There is not the grace of Salisbury, nor the rich ornament of Lichfield, nor the stately towers of Canterbury and York, nor the splendid situation of Durham and Lincoln. Massive grandeur, but not beauty, will be his first judgment, but let him suspend that judgment till he gets inside ; meanwhile, we will walk round the exterior. We pass the west front, which has a large Perpendicular window, and doorways of curious sharp-pointed arches. These are the work of Bishop Edyngdon (middle of fourteenth century). Then we come at the south-west corner to a narrow passage, which conducts us round into the Cathedral Close. This passage, called the Slype, was constructed by Bishop Curie (1636), in order to save the Cathedral from the desecration of a footway which went through it. It has these curious inscriptions upon it: ILL\ PRECv ^ V.C \\TOR AMBULA H/ VI/ ^T Iliac precator, hac viator ambula (' Worshipper, go that way ; traveller, this'). THE SLYPE 117 CESSIT COMMUNI PROPRIUM JAM PERGITE QUA FAS. ' Private right has yielded to public, now go by the way which is open to thee.' A >IT >A >ORO ERV/ F/ IST/ F/ 'Let the way be sacred to the choir, and this is made handmaid to the market-place.' ' Winchester Cathedral,' by Canon Benham, in Our English Minsters. Isbister and Co. . . . THE hour ' The vast r\t j. ! t-j. .LI -j J.-L and vener- Of twilight mostly aids the power able plle > Of fancy o'er the dreaming mind. Then, if your thoughts the leisure find, Seek ye the venerable pile, And in the broad nave stand, the while Creep slowly in the shades of night, And faint and fainter streams the light Through the west window's coloured pane, Which seems in richest hues to stain The pillars high and ample floor. Then let your musing eye run o'er The beauty and the power that lives Around, to which the dim light gives A grander, loftier aspect then The buried past may breathe again, And in the deepening gloom of night, A ruder pile meets fancy's sight, And war-cries of the conquering Dane Strike terror through the holy fane ; And rushing feet, and shrieks of woe, And prayers to the unsparing foe Ii8 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Are heard, and prayers to heaven. In vain : The demon-rout rush in amain, And groans of dying men resound, And monk and priest lie slaughtered round. Then shouts of fiendish triumph tear The sacred roof. But soon a fair And noble structure o'er the scene Of carnage rises Walkelin Hath built his massy Norman tower ; The priesthood reign in pomp and power, And in a gay procession bear The image of their patron, dear Saint Swithun, to his ancient shrine. And now in proud succession shine The holy prelates calmer years Succeed : the noble Wykeham rears His nave, expanding to the view Like to a broad-arched avenue. . . . Hark ! strange words of ire Startle the echoes of the choir, With Bible texts uncouthly blended, And holy rites are to be mended By mailed priests, the gun-and-sword Expounders of the Gospel-word. Yet scarce can their brief rage deface The beauties of the hallowed place, Or trouble Wykeham's calm repose Near tombs which royal dust enclose : There Christian hearts revere him still ; Nor will his glory cease to fill That vast and venerable pile, The noblest of our Saxon isle. Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. IMMEMORIAL LIMES 119 THE surroundings of the Cathedral are the embodiment of The close calmness and cloistral seclusion ; indeed this religio loci, this hallowed re/iez/o? is, perhaps, nowhere so powerfully experienced as at Winchester, whose Close bursts upon the visitor as he turns into it from the busy, cheerful High Street for the first time, in a manner which deeply affects, but does not overwhelm. There is perhaps nothing more strikingly beautiful than the spectacle presented by that noble avenue of limes leading up to the west front of the Cathedral, amid whose long-drawn, silver-grey Perpendicular nave, low Norman tower, deeply projecting transepts, choir and eastern chapels, there resides an indescribable air of English sturdiness and solidity a contrast to the huge, well-nigh immeasurable piles of Amiens, Bourges, Chartres, or Rheims. To some, this great church may at first sight appear rather as a work of nature than of man. Yet what great name does it not recall ? Swithun, Walkelin, Godfrey de Lucy, Edingdon, Wykeham, Beaufort, Waynflete, Fox. Turning from the church itself we have the velvety turf surrounding it, prebendal houses Tudor, Jacobean, Caroline, Georgian, modern, all mixed up together in the most delightfully heterogeneous manner possible, their gardens aglow with midsummer's most brilliant floral tributes ; while the modest mignonette perfumes the air, already heavily laden with the scent of the lime avenue. . . . T. Francis Bumpus. Cathedrals of England and Wales. T. Werner Laurie, 1906. MAJESTIC 'midst its immemorial limes The grey The grey Cathedral rears its massive head , : No sound, except the cadence of the chimes, Breaks through the silence of the sleeping dead, Save where, beneath the shadows of the trees, Drones the low melody of countless bees. 120 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The houses cluster round its mighty pile, Lying among the creases of the down, And over all the great tower seems to smile A calm assurance to the watching town. Like to some wise old man, whose eye can see All that has been, and all that is to be. The chequered centuries beneath it rolled, Each with its mingled tale of peace and war, And, still unchanged, it waits the time foretold When strife shall cease and battle be no more, Calm o'er the heat of life where round its base Man frets and chatters out his noisy space. The grass grows lank o'er many a lichened grave Crumbling to ruin in the churchyard there ; And in the cloistered coolness of the nave, With meek hands clasped in an eternal prayer, Lie those whose purity has won renown, The bishop's mitre with the prince's crown. . 1 St. Swithun,' in Poems and Parodies, by J. L. Crommelin-Brown. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1908. ' The grey, FULL-CLOTHED in freshest verdure tremble the lofty lindens cathedral' 8 ^ ^ e Close ' fa as a roc k stands the grey, fortress-like Cathedral, its oldest stonework undecayed as though built yesterday. A side-wicket admits to the vast interior, with massy pillars, and roof high-embowed over the coffins of old kings: solemn and monumental the weighty transept arches and plain thick pillars of Norman work. Noble, too, are these clustered columns of the nave ; yet I wish, on the whole, that Bishop William and others had withheld their hands from perpendicularity. The nave windows are to me of ugly form, YON TEMPLE'S PILE 121 the tracery of the great west window stands an offence, which its fine glass hardly condones. And this glass is but a patchwork. Upon Cheriton Down, one March day of 1644, the Roundheads smote the Cavaliers, and, leaving many brave men dead and dying on the hill, came grimly down into Winchester and smashed the Cathedral windows and monuments. The gathered bits of glass, disjecta membra of saints, kings, queens, bishops, warriors, a fragment of a motto, a corner of a device, broken as they are, make splendid this tall, greenish-bluish west window. . . . William Allingham. Varieties in Prose. Longmans, Green and Co. Low in the vale appears, in Gothic state seen from Yon Temple's pile, magnificently great ; House lnS '* As though the fretted iles, at dead of night, Blind Superstition taught the taper'd rite, Each white-robed priest his chaunting vespers sung, And the dire dirge thro' echoing arches rung ; With such, perhaps, amid the awful gloom, The stoled fathers raised their Rums' tomb ; Or ranged in long array and order dread, Their Alfred's honoured bier slow-pacing led, And shrin'd each Saxon King in mansions of the dead. ' The Prospect from the King's House, Winchester,' under ' Poetry ' in The Hampshire Repository, 1798. THE Cathedral has stood ' twice as long as the great Jewish The Temple Temple of old ... it is a very moving thing to be able to look back eight hundred years and think of those who have trodden these self-same floors and looked on these massive walls. This church has been visited by almost every prince and many a man of note in English history. It was built to be to Norman England what the Temple had been to the Jews the central expression of a nation's faith, the place dedicated to the con- centrated worship of the conquering race. It was the seat of 122 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The Sense of Awe The venerable Cathedral great Bishops, who advanced their country's welfare in matters of art and learning and religion. The whole early history of England and much of its later history seems bound up with it.' From a Sermon by Dean Kitchin on the Eight-hundredth Anniversary. I REMEMBER well the day when, a mere child, just fresh from home, I was first allowed as a Wykehamist to claim my place Sunday after Sunday in this Cathedral. The sense of awe, of uplifting glory, is as fresh and overpowering now, as it was more than fifty-eight years ago. Archdeacon Fearon, preaching in Winchester Cathedral, July 10, 1910. ONCE the capital of England, this historical city is strikingly situated on the slopes and at the bottom of the chalk valley through which the river Itchen flows nearly due north and south. Surrounded as it is by chalk downs, there are many beautiful views from them of the venerable Cathedral standing on the more level ground in the centre of the old town, which contains so much of architectural and antiquarian interest. Wessex, painted by Walter Tyndale, described by Clive Holland. A. and C. Black, 1906. IF Salisbury, with its striking and beautiful tenuity of forms, its slim windows and its graceful columns, its attractive spire, compelling immediate notice and admiration from every quarter, is (as she deserves to be) crowned the refined and delicate queen of our southern cathedrals, Winchester may be considered their fatherly and ancient Sovereign, and its grave and noble aspect excites the respectful feeling due to patriarchal years and thoughtful wisdom. Charles Townsend. Winchester, etc., 1842. Winchester THE exterior of the Cathedral is remarkable for the plainness of cathedrals 117 * ts masonr y> ^ e length of its nave, and the solidity of its tower, compared which rises only about twenty feet above the roof. In these 1 A fatherly and ancient Sovereign ' A CITY OF SAINTS 123 respects it is so essentially different from the neighbouring Cathedral of Salisbury, that a comparison may be entered into of the respective beauties and peculiarities of them. At the first glance at the exterior of the Cathedral of Salisbury, we are delighted with its elegant lightness, the appropriateness of its ornaments, and its perfect uniformity of design, whilst we gaze with mixed feelings of awe and admiration on its ' heaven-directed spire ' ; but when we view steadily view the exterior of that of Winchester, though it command not all those pleasurable emotions, we are struck by its solemn grandeur, its vastness of extent, and its immovable solidity. When we enter the nave of the former, we are still pleased with its elegant grace, and wonder how the slender shafts of its columns uphold its massive roof ; but the flood of light poured in destroys those sensations of sublimity which the darker nave of the latter, with its ponderous pillars, so admirably sustain. Salisbury Cathedral must be taken as a whole Winchester Cathedral must be examined in all its parts. If the exterior of the one delights and charms us, the interior of the other commands our admiration and reverence. Salisbury appears as if it had sprung into existence at the touch of the wand of some mighty magician, as perfect and as beautiful as it now appears to an enraptured eye : Winchester, on the contrary, bears on its brow the marks of ages, and presents to the antiquarian the most perfect specimens of the growth of the pointed style from the period of unadorned simplicity, till at last it became encumbered, nay buried, beneath heaps of ornament. Prouten's Winchester Guide, c. 1850. 2. ST. SWITHUN WINCHESTER may be justly called the City of the Saints, for The city of biographers enumerate ten canonised bishops of this see. . . . the Saints It has derived a popular celebrity as the resting-place of St. Swithin, the removal of whose remains during a heavy rain 124 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER has given rise to the belief, that, if it should rain on his feast, it will continue to fall in a deluge for forty days after. M. E. c. Walcott. Memorials of Winchester, 1866. Seynt Swithun Seynt Swithun his bishopricke to al goodnesse drough, The towne also of Winchester he amended enough, For he lette the strong bruge without the towne arere, And fond thereto lym and ston and the workmen that were there. Fourteenth-century Poem. Twice twenty days How, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours, And every penthouse streams with hasty showers, Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain, And wash the pavements with incessant rain. John Gay. Trivia, Book 1. 1. 183, et seq. St. Swithun the rainy ST. SWITHUN 's day, if thou dost rain, For forty days it will remain ; St. Swithun's day, if thou be faire, For forty days 'twill raine nae maire. Proverbial Rhyme. St. Swithun mends the UNUM BEATI SWITHUNI MIRACULUM INTER SIGNA GLORIOSI SWITHUNI ANTISTITIS Que per eum rex caelestis hac in vita edidit Hoc ex multis unum refert prisca fama populi Conditoris quod in Laude paucis libet promere. lidem namque pastor almus & provisor strenuus Forte pontem extruebat geminasque januas Per quas urbis Winthoniae adeuntur moenia Artifices congregati huic instabant open. FELIX URBS 125 Forum petens casu venit illuc muliercula Ova ferens unde vitae mercetur subsidia Quae ludendo operantum confregit stultitia Atque victum miserandae ademit pauperculae. Ilia pium atque mitem requirit pontificem Et plorando illi suum exponit dispendium Cui cultor pietatis benignus ac dapsilis Per cunctatus mox ovorum duplum reddit precium. Post haec ille domino plenus caritate profluus Puras coelo manus librat effundens oramina Et creantis motu cuncta mox ova redintegrat Gaudens ilia sic discessit domino laudes reddidit. Gratuletur et exultet felix urbs Winthonia Que virtute tanti patris meritisque rutilat Cujus sacra fovet ossa sentit & miracula Incessanter illi plaudat odas cum letitia. A Tenth-century MS. in the British Museum. MS. Reg. 15. c. vii. fol. penult. Prologue: Song of the lichen COOL from the veins of the rolling hills st. swithun Flow for ever my laughing rills, Ripple on ripple eternally, Rippling away to the infinite sea. Sons of men ye build on my side, Field to field ye lay in your pride, Think for a moment how many of old, Made little names with their heaps of gold, Piling their houses beside my waters ; Like leaves and sticks on a stormy day That I sweep in thousands away and away, 126 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Never again shall men give them a word, Gone from the mind with their sons and daughters ; Still for ever my ripple is heard, Ripple and ripple, and ripple for aye, Stealing along, when never a sound Pierced the measureless forest around, Only the anthem of birds in spring, Only the wild winds' whispering, Only the wolf with his lonely cry Seeking his meat of his Master on high, And still (as in earlier aeons, like dreams Dimly remembered) the voice of my streams. Stealing along, when by fairy hands The city was laid in my meadow lands (Carried away from the thymy hill, Where the fairies dance in the moonlight still). Stealing along, when Cerdic's host Won for ever our English coast, When my shallows were troubled and dark with blood, And the heap of the slaughter choked my flood, When the sons of Woden in steady array, Strong as my stream when it sweeps to the tide, Drove the chieftains that turned to bay Down the sward of the steep hill-side. Rightly ye judge that your land is great, I saw the foundation of all your state, Not in the glitter of blades alone, But in trowel and hammer on wood and stone, In gentle deeds of the strong and the wise, In them that quietly lifted their eyes Through all the tumult of tongue and of sword To the glory of peace that should come from the Lord. Such was he that we honour to-day, Who spanned with arches my watery way, SAINT SWITHUN 127 Wise in the counsels of warrior kings, Teacher of rulers mighty and good, Faithful in great and in little things, Feeding the poor with the Master's food, Building his churches beside my wave, To the furthest hereafter he speaks from the grave. [St. Swithun builds a wall round the Cathedral and a bridge across the Itchen.] Except the Lord with guarding hand Shall stay beside our rising wall, Except the watchman at his stand Can on our God for succour call ; Then all our work is thrown away, And strength, and skill, and foresight fail. Look Thou on what we build to-day, That by Thy grace it may prevail. And when with stone a wall we raise To keep our dwelling-place within, Set Thou about our heart always A fence against the storm of sin. And when with pier and arch we throw A road across the foaming stream, Keep Thou the feet of them that go, From sin's delirious wandering dream. For good it is that man by man Should dwell in safety side by side ; And good it is the bridge should span The river that would keep them wide. But on the builder still the pain Of fear and inward doubting falls, Lest sense, oppression, lust of gain, Should taint his houses, foul his walls. 128 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Then let the town for Thee increase, For Thee the tide of commerce flow, Lest secret rapine pass for peace, And wealth of one be others' woe. [Saint Swithun old, and troubled at the inroads of the Danes.] Vain to have watched for weary, weary years, To see the breaking of the dawn of peace ; Within, without, are darkness, horror, fears ; Father, release. For all about Thy little fold The heathen wolves are howling for the prey ; Fruitless our victories on our spirits, cold Creeping dismay. Vain to have toiled afoot through night and storm, To preach, to hallow houses to Thy name ; Thy Church is wasted by the godless swarm, And put to shame. Only within the walls that I have reared Our little brotherhood may breathe awhile, And I, howe'er our wider hopes are seared, May work and smile. [St. Swithun dies, desiring to be buried among the poor.] Brothers, a long and a last good-night ! Sleep to the weary is sweet. Leave me to rest till in infinite light Of an endless morning we meet. Lay me to sleep in the cool soft sod By my own Cathedral door, With the brothers on earth of my Saviour and God, The friends that I loved the poor. English Verse, St. Swithun, by G. R. Benson. The Wykehamist, July 1883. THE HUMBLE SAINT 129 HANC portam presens cernis quicumque viator wentane Devocat effunde preces ad celsitonantem. decorem Pro Christ! famulo Swithun antistite quondam j Per cujus summam cum sollicitudine curam. Est hujus ponas constructa operatic pulchra, Ad Christi laudem, Wentane urbisque decorem ; Sol octingentos cum rite revolveret annos. Quinquaginta novem replicaret et insuper annos Incaraata fuit postquam miseratio Christi. Tune erat et vertent indictio septima cursum. A Tenth-century MS. in the British Museum. MS. Reg. 15. c. vii. fol. penult. No orator was he to sway the State, The Humble Yet statesmen envied him his simple speech ; No King upon whose bidding courtiers wait, Yet Kings were wont his blessing to beseech. Unnoticed by the roaring world outside, Quiet he lived and worked, and quiet died. Such was his sanctity that when he prayed, Old shiners hearing, so the stories say, Trembled as Felix did, and were afraid At the more perfect knowledge of the Way. And yet his people ever found him kind, Helping the laggards, leading on the blind. Ah ! humble Saint ! who made a last request Before his spirit turned again to God, That after death his buried bones should rest Beneath the eaves, where every passer trod. And so, within his ancient Abbey's shade, He who had lived in peace, hi peace was laid. i 130 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER And when long after, as the legend goes, The monks removed him from this lowly tomb To fitter burial, great clouds arose, Blotted the heaven's face with angry gloom, The cow'ring world with whips of tempest lashed, While round the thunder buffeted and crashed. Sleep on, Saint Swithun not in that poor space Which thou didst ask of thy humility Thy holy relics found a worthier place And one more fitted to such piety, Where the great organ, shouting through the pile, Shakes the dim vista of a listening aisle. ' St. Swithun ' in Poems and Parodies, by J. L. Crommelin-Brown. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1908. 3. FOUNDERS' TOMBS That most WITHIN the shrine of Winchester Cathedral are buried the beautiful architects who erected that most beautiful Cathedral in Europe ; Cathedral In Europe* but not every architect is so happy as to sleep in the structure his hands have builded. Ward Beecher. Praesui EDYNDON natus Wilhelmus hie est tumulatus Praesul praegratus, in Wintonia cathedratus. Qui pertransitis, ejus memorare velitis. Providus et mitis, ausit cum mille peritis. Pervigil Anglorum fuit adjutor populorum Dulcis egenorum pater et protector eorum. M. C. tribus junctum, post L. X. V. sit I. punctum Octava sanctum notat hunc Octobris injunctum. Inscription on Edington's tomb. TWO BUILDERS 131 [William, born at Edington, is here interred. He was a well-beloved prelate, and Winchester was his see. You, who pass by his tomb, remember him in your prayers. He was discreet and mild, yet a match for thousands in know- ledge and sagacity. He was a watchful guardian of the English nation, A tender father of the poor and the defender of their rights. To one thousand add three hundred with fifty, ten, five, and one, Then the eighth of October will mark the time when he became a saint.] Translation given in Milner's History of Winchester. WILHELMINUS dictus Wykeham jacet hie nece victus : 'Largus erat Istius ecclesiae presul, reparavit eamque. dapifer Largus erat dapifer ; probat hoc cum divite pauper ; Consiliis pariter regni fuerat bene dexter. Hunc docet esse pium fundatio collegiorum : Oxoniae primum fiat Wintoniaeque secundum. Jugiter oretis, tumulum quicunque videtis, Pro tantis meritis ut sit sibi vita perennis. Inscription on Wykeham 's tomb. [William surnamed Wykeham lies overthrown by death : He was bishop of this church and repairer of it. He was unbounded in his hospitality, as the poor and the rich can equally prove. He was likewise a sage politician and counsellor of the state. His piety is manifest by the colleges which he founded : The first of which is at Oxford, the second at Winchester. You who look on this monument, cease not to pray That for such great deserts he may enjoy eternal life.] Translation given in Milner's History of Winchester. At the tomb of Wykeham 132 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER WYKEHAM, around thy venerable tomb With fond affection still thy children come ; And tho' no more the loud-voiced hymn they sing, Still silent prayers and heartfelt wishes bring, That thy departed Spirit, secure and blest, May with the destined heirs of glory rest ; And, for thy pious bounty here bestow'd, Treasure in Heaven may have, and joy in God ! Lines written at the tomb of William of Wykeham, in Winchester Cathedral, by William Crowe, 1788. The Holy Spot . . . THERE Otway often bowed In pensive awe, before he went his way To fame and misery. He who endowed His country's lyre with notes that call away The soul from Earth to Heaven, sad, thoughtful Young, Hath pondered o'er that tomb. There too the gay Somerville, for a musing hour, hath hung Admiring j and the gentle bard who mourned O'er Thomson's grave, 1 there dreamed. But he who sung Saint Catherine's Mount in classic numbers, turned Oftenest to that grave, Winton's own bard, The learned Warton. Many more who earned Renown in the wide world, with meek regard To the wise prelate, have their tribute paid. And long will gratitude and reverence guard The holy spot in which his bones are laid ; And where his gentle spirit soars above The cold dull marble, and hath worthier made 1 Collins. WYKEHAM'S TOMB 133 Souls worthy inspiring them with earnest love Of humankind. His ardent charity Lives in old Winton's heart. Still may it prove Her virtue through the bright days yet to be ! Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. THIS being Sunday, I heard, about 7 o'clock in the morning, in his Catho: Robes a sort of jangling, made by a bell or two in the Cathedral . catholic hearing the bells of the Cathedral, I took Richard to show him that ancient and most magnificent pile, and particularly to show him the tomb of that famous bishop of Winchester, WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM ; who was the Chancellor and the Minister of the great and glorious King, Edward in., who sprang from poor parents in the little village of Wykham, three miles from Botley ; and who, amongst other great and most munificent deeds, founded the famous College, or School, of Winchester, and also one of the Colleges at Oxford. I told Richard about this as we went from the inn down to the Cathedral and when I showed him the tomb, where the bishop lies on his back, in his Catholic robes, with his mitre on his head, his shepherd's crook by his side, with little children at his feet, their hands put together in a praying attitude, he looked with a degree of inquisitive earnestness that pleased me very much. I took him as far as I could about the Cathedral. William Cobbett, Rural Rides, 1825. 4. CATHEDRAL MUSIC SOME idea of part-singing as practised in Winchester in the Winchester eleventh century can be formed from these data [the Winchester " U81C *? th Eleventh Organa, undoubtedly used in the Old Minster]. The art was in century a state of transition : the earlier writers, such as Isidore, Aurelian, Hucbald, etc., had confined themselves to a bare definition and 134 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER classification of concords, but in the writings of the later tenth century we see that a great step forward had been made. . . . The Winchester Organa exhibit all the three kinds of harmonic motion. In the Sequence-melodies, for example, two clear instances of contrary motion occur in the Allelulia of the first melody, but it is the exception, and the vox organalis proceeds mainly by oblique motion or by similar motion, probably a fourth below the vox principalis. . . . Contrary motion is rare, though it does occur, and it is interesting to note on the syllable ethwlce that the quilisma of the principalis is accompanied by a sort of descending quilisma in the organalis. W. H. Frere. The Winchester Troper, Henry Bradshaw Soc., 1894. The Magic THOU magic soother of the soul's unrest, Of nature's gifts the holiest and the best ! What power first called thee, music, from thy cell, And bade thee in thy living numbers tell Of mortal joys or griefs, of smiles or tears, Of heaven-born hopes, and trembling earthly fears, And bade thee rouse with soul-inspiring art The fire of passion in the human heart ? But oh ! thrice blest was he who made thee rise To God, as man's accepted sacrifice, Where in the sombre majesty of years Some huge cathedral-pile its form uprears, Within whose walls a mellow light is shed O'er monuments of unforgotten dead, Now, peals thy voice as, when the clouds are riven By flying flame, the thunder voice of Heaven, Now in unutterable harmonies Murmuring it rises, trembles, sinks and dies, CATHEDRAL MUSIC 135 And now in slower and more solemn tone Rings o'er that massive majesty of stone Till grand old arch and monumental mound Seem the embodiment of stately sound \ Then fades and swoons, so as almost to seem The music of a half-forgotten dream, And falls as lightly on the willing air As Seraph's footfalls on the golden stair, Then swells in undertone, as flowering trees Sound with unceasing murmuring of bees, Whispering far down the vista of the aisle, And giant pillars of the time-worn pile, Where fretted arch and vaulted roof look down On tombs of those who planned for their renown The noblest shrine that mortal hand can raise, A home of God, a sanctuary of praise. Until, beneath the lofty eastern dome, Where sculptured marble marks great Beaufort's tomb, With eyes and cold stone hands upraised to heaven, As even in death he prayed to be forgiven, The sound might seem, as there we muse alone, To call a smile on features wrought of stone. ' Cathedral Music,' Prize English Poem, Winchester College, 1866, by E. D. A. Morsehead. Published in The Wykehamist, October 1866. 5. SOME VISITORS, ETC. October 3, 1642-3. I WENT to Winchester where I visited the castle, school, church, John Evelyn and King Arthur's Round Table, but especially the church and its Saxon kings' monuments, which I esteemed a worthy antiquity. Evelyn's Diary. 136 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER September 16, 1685. HENCE (from the King's House) to see the Cathedral, a reverend pile, and in good repair. There are still coffins of the six Saxon kings, whose bones had been scattered by the sacrilegious rebels of 1641, in expectation, I suppose, of finding some valuable relics, and afterwards gathered up again and put into new chests, which stand above the stalls of the choir. Evelyn's Diary. Tuesday, October 24, 1738. A visit to the As soon as it was light we got away (from Alresford), and before 1738 C mne ' c l c k we arrived at Winchester, and in the house of Master Gauntlet. The first thing I did was to write to my Lady Peterborough to let her know I would dine with her the next day if it was convenient. . . . We then took our walk to the Cathedral, which I looked over with more curious eyes than I had done before. I took notice in the choir of a fine old pulpit carved and given by one Silkstead who had been prior of Winchester. I also took notice of the nave of the church, that is where the crosses meet ; this was beautiful and repaired by King Charles the First, and there is his picture with his son, King Charles the Second, in his arms. King Charles the First gave the fine canopy over the altar, as also the fine prayer books for the service of the altar. I do not doubt, but you remember the fine steps to the altar, the fine rail, and the extreme curious pavement composed of several sorts of marble. This was done by the will of Dr. William Harris, who died in 1700, and bequeathed to the church 800 for that design, and it is executed with great exactness and beauty. I think this gentleman's name should not be forgot. I do not know if you took notice in one of the side aisles of a monument (it is only a flat stone upon the floor) of the Countess of Essex. She was married to Sir Thomas Higgins, and he made an oration in the church at the funeral, and, if you please to remember, showed it you in manuscript. We then proceeded WALPOLE AND WESLEY 137 to the college, the church, school and library. These places afforded us no manner of new discovery. And here I will end my first letter. A Journey through Hampshire in 1738, in the handwriting of the second Earl of Oxford, apparently addressed to his wife (Hist. MSS. Com., Duke of Portland's MSS.). STRAWBERRY HILL, September 18, 1755. ... I LIKE the smugness of the cathedral and the profusion of The the most beautiful Gothic tombs. That of Cardinal Beaufort UX llJUO is in a style more free and of more taste than anything I have cathedral seen of the kind. . . . Besides the monuments of the Saxon kings, of Lucius, William Rufus, his brother, etc., there are those of six such great or considerable men as Beaufort, William of Wickham, him of Wainfleet, the Bishops Fox and Gardiner, and my Lord Treasurer Portland. How much power and ambition under half a dozen stones ! I own, I grow to look on tombs as lasting mansions, instead of observing them for curious pieces of architecture. Horace Walpole to Richard Bentley. Letters (Clarendon Press edition), iii. 341-2. Thursday, October 3, 1771. THURSDAY, 3rd, at Winchester. I now found tune to take a johnwesiey view of the Cathedral. Here the sight of that bad Cardinal's m *"*<** Cathedral tomb, whom the sculptor has placed in a posture of prayer, brought to my mind those fine lines of Shakespeare, which he put into the mouth of King Henry the Sixth : ' Lord Cardinal, If thou hast any hope of Heaven's grace, Give us a sign. He dies, and makes no sign.' John Wesley's Journal. [The only words that remain of the inscription round Beaufort's tomb are ; Tribularer, si nescirem misericordias tuas.] 138 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Fanny Burney WEDNESDAY, August 3. We walked to the Cathedral and saw at Winchester ., . , . ... , cathedral, xt completely. Part of it remains from the original Saxon 1791 building, though neglected, except by travellers, as the rest of the church is ample for all uses, and alone kept in repair. The bones of eleven Saxon Kings are lodged in seven curious old chests, in which they were deposited after being dug up and disturbed in civil wars and ensuing confusions. The small number of chests is owing to the small proportion remaining of some of the skeletons, which occasioned their being united with others. The Saxon characters are in many inscriptions preserved, though in none entire. They were washing a plaster from the walls, to discern some curious old painting, very miserable, but very entertaining, of old legends, which some antiquaries are now endeavouring to discover. William of Wykeham, by whom the Cathedral was built in its present form, lies buried, with his effigy and whole monument in very fine alabaster, and probably very like, as it was done, they aver, before he died. Its companion, equally superb, is Cardinal Beaufort, uncle of Harry vi. William Rufus, slain in the neighbouring forest, is buried in the old choir : his monument is of plain stone, without any inscription or ornament and only shaped like a coffin. Hardyknute had a much more splendid monument preserved for him ; J but Harry had other business to attend, I presume, than to decorate the tomb of one brother while despoiling of his kingdom another. An extremely curious old chapel and monument remain of Archbishop Langton, of venerable Gothic workmanship. The altar, which is highly adorned with gold, was protected in Cromwell's time by the address and skill of the Winton inhabi- tants who ran up a slight wall before it, and deceived the Reformists, soi-disants. I could hardly quit this poor dear old 1 It is inscribed : Qui jacet hie regni sceptrum tuiit, Hardicanutus Emmae Cnutonis gnatus et ipse fuit. Ob. A.D. IXLI. FANNY BURNEY AND EMERSON 139 building, so much was I interested with its Saxon chiefs, its queer little niches, quaint images, damp cells, mouldering walls, and mildewed pillars. One chest contains the bones entire of Egbert, our first King. Edred also, I distinguished. The screen was given to this church by King Charles, and is the work of Inigo Jones. It is very simple in point of ornament, very complete in taste and elegance ; nevertheless, a screen of Grecian architecture in a Cathedral of Gothic workmanship was ill, I think, imagined. Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay, London, 1842-6. IN the Cathedral, I was gratified at least by the ample dimensions. Emerson The length of line exceeds that of any other English church ; cathedral being 556 feet by 250 in breadth of transept. I think I prefer this church to all I have seen, except Westminster and York. Here was Canute buried, and here Alfred the Great was crowned and buried, and here the Saxon Kings ; and later, in his own church, William of Wykeham. It is very old ; part of the crypt into which we went down and saw the Saxon and Norman arches of the old church on which the present stands, was built fourteen or fifteen hundred years ago. Sharon Turner says, ' Alfred was buried at Winchester, in the Abbey he had founded there, but his remains were removed by Henry I. to the new Abbey in the meadows at Hyde, on the northern quarter of the city, and laid under the high altar. The building was destroyed at the Reformation, and what is left of Alfred's body now lies covered by modern buildings or buried in the ruins of the old.' William of Wykeham's shrine tomb was unlocked for us, and C. took hold of the recumbent statue's marble hands, and patted them affectionately, for he rightly values the brave man who built Windsor, and this Cathedral and the School here, and New College at Oxford. But it was growing late hi the after- noon. Slowly we left the old house, and parting with our host, we took the train for London. R. W. Emerson, English Traits, 1856. Concerning a Journey to England made in 1833 and 1847. 140 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER oreviiie AUGUST 4th (1835). Came to town on Sunday, having slept Winchester at Winchester on Saturday night to see the town and the cathedral, and hear the service in the latter, which was very moderate ; the cathedral, however, is worth seeing. The Greville Memoirs. Dean Rennell DEAN RENNELL was a man of very superior abilities, but of Winchester g 16 ^ eccentricity, mainly due to extreme absence of mind. isoc-40) It used to be told of him that unless Mrs. Rennell took good care, he was tolerably certain, when he went up to his room to dress for a dinner-party, to go to bed. Among the stories that were current of Rennell I remember one to the effect that when upon one occasion he was posting from Winchester to London he stopped at Egham for luncheon. A huge round of boiled beef, nearly uncut, was placed upon the table. But the dean found it was, as he thought, far too much boiled ; so without more ado he cut the huge mass into four quarters and helped himself to a morsel from the centre ! The landlady, when the mutilated joint was carried out, was exceed- ingly indignant, and insisted that a guinea should be paid for the entirety of it. The dean, much against the grain, as the chronicle goes, paid his guinea, but packed up the four quarters of the round and carried them off with him. Further indication of his eccentricity might be seen, as I remember, in his habit of wearing in the cathedral pulpit in cold weather, not a skull cap, but a flat square of velvet on his head, with which occasionally he would in the heat of his discourse wipe his face, then clap it on his head again. T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 142-3. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. ON THE REV. J. DENNIS, LATE MINOR CANON OF WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL A Minor Canon On Sunday John Dennis will surly grimace A maze of dry words and, God knows, little grace, VARIETIES 141 With unmeaning words and circumrotations, And odd words of Scripture and patched-up quotations Attempted to prove, but attempted in vain, That he must run fast who wish'd to obtain. ' Egad,' cried a wag, ' how the times are depraved ! A shepherd must fall whilst his flocks may be sav'd, For I am sure that, unless by a violent strain, If John runs as he reads he will never obtain.' T. Warton. Add. MS. 29,539, * 20. On the erection of a shabby clock-house on the roof of the spacious and venerable Cathedral of Winchester BENEATH old Venta's antient hall, The Pepper- Where that famed Table decks the wall box At which sat Arthur and his Knights To celebrate promiscuous rites, To hold stern council for the state, Or, like our modern knights, to eat ; Lo ! there th 1 unconscious labourer's spade Did good King Arthur's hoard invade, And, by a thousand ruthless knocks, Produced to light a Pepper-box ; Not such as serves our pigmy age, 'Twas big as any parrot's cage, Or might have been enlarg'd with ease To hold an infant swarm of bees ; Soon as this treasure-trove was known The Chapter claim'd it as their own, Proving, by old records new found, The Hall was built on hallow'd ground ; And, since that ' Tempus null' occurrit Ecclesiae/ it should make a Turret. 142 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER And now behold, oh grievous grief ! The Box that season'd Arthur's Beef Restor'd from dark Oblivion's bed, Bedawb'd with white, and capp'd with lead, Expos'd to laughter, stands on high That children for the Toy might cry ; And, least it should escape the sneer, A tell-tale Clock cries, ' Look ! tis here.' A Wiccamical Chaplet, by George Huddesford, 1804. May 12, 1722. A virulent HAVE you seen a book called the Miseries and Hardships of the Inferior Clergy chiefly about London ? It is a notable book, but the author, we are told, is very profligate. But one of the same tribe was so spirited up by it, that lately in the Cathedral of Winchester he preached very virulently against all other clergymen that had better preferment than he had. The Dean and prebendaries present sent the verger to him to tell him to come down ; but his assurance failed him not, and he went on. And he could not be silenced till the organs opened against him. Dr. William Stratford of Christ Church, Oxford, to Edward Harley (Hist. MSS. Com., Duke of Portland's MSS. vii. 323) BOOK II THE COLLEGE SCHOOL DAYS AND SCHOOL WAYS i. THE GENIUS LOCI BUT dearest far to all of us, Quid Our College ! we confess thee : Scarce can our simple love address thee ; Silent, we greet thee thus. While far above, With perfect love, Thy vanished children bless thee. Winchester ! Home to whom our hearts, Full of glad memories, take us : Let all else fail, thou wilt forsake us Never : and though time parts Us from thy side, We still abide The lovers, thou didst make us. Now once more let the old words come, The old Eia ! quid silemus ? Now, Duke Domutn resonemus ! For love of thee, Sweet Home ! Vivas et stes Te indies Amantius amemus. ' Winchester/ in Ireland and Other Poems, by Lionel Johnson, 1889. Elkin Mathews, 1897. K 146 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Learning's best beloTed Home HAIL Learning's best beloved home ! Thy praise is past, and yet to come. Night's clouds are sailing o'er thy tower, No leaf, no riplet, mars the hour Hushed moments when thy Genius falls On carven roofs and shadowy walls. No rising sun unwatched by him Has touched thy pinnacles ; nor ray, Bright usher of a festal day, Melting the dense enfolding cloud Of Catherine's steep, when from the crowd Of Winton silver clarions fling Their welcome for a youthful king, Fair Richard * or that holier head, Thy lover, from the broader spread Of Tamise waters. . . . The Rev. William Moore. Venta and Other Poems. D. Nutt, 1882. Tnat loveliness of thine' DEDICATION OF A BOOK IN MANUSCRIPT To the fairest ! Then to thee Consecrate and bounden be Winchester ! this verse of mine. Ah, that loveliness of thine ! To have lived enchanted years, Like to life in dreamworld spheres, Where thy Tower's noon shadow falls Over those proud buttressed walls, Where a purpling glory pours From high heaven's inheritors Blazoned 'neath the arching stone ! To have wandered, hushed, alone, Gently round thy fair, fern-grown TO THE FAIREST 147 Chantry of the Lilies lying, Where the soft night winds go sighing Round thy cloisters in moonlight Branching dark or dashed with white : Round old, chill aisles, where moon-smitten Blanches the Orate written Under each worn, old-world face Graven on Death's holy place ! To the noblest ! None but thee. Blest our living eyes, that see Half-a-thousand years fulfilled Of that age, which Wykeham willed Thee to live, yet all unworn As upon that first March morn j When thine honoured city saw Thy young beauty without flaw Born within her water-flowing Ancient hollows, by wind-blowing Hills enfolded evermore. Thee that lord of royal lore, Orient from old Hellas' shore, Grocyn, had to mother : thee Monumental majesty Of most old philosophy Honours, in thy wizard Browne. Tender Otway's dear renown, Mover of a perfect pity, Victim of the iron city, Thine to cherish is : and thee, Champion of old Liberty ; Harper of the Highland faith, Elf and faery, and wan wraith Chaunting softly, chaunting slowly, Minstrel of all melancholy j 148 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Passion's poet, Evening's voice j Collins glorifies. Rejoice, Mother ! in thy song : for all Love thine immemorial Name, august and musical. To the dearest ! Ah to thee ! Hast thou not in all to me Mother, more than mother, been ! Well toward thee may Mary Queen Bow her with a mother's mien. Who so rarely dost express An inspiring tenderness, Woven into thy sterner strain, Prelude of the world's full pain. But two years, and still my feet Found thy very stones more sweet Than the richest fields elsewhere : Two years, and thy sacred air Still poured balm upon me, when Nearer drew the world of men : Two years have I lived, still thine, Lost, thy presence ! Gone, that shrine, Where six years, what years ! were mine ! Ah, long twilights, linden-scented, Sunsets lingeringly lamented, In the purple West, prevented, Ere they fell, by evening star ! Ah, long nights of winter ! far Leaps and roars the faggot-fire ; Circling faces glow, all eyes Take the light : deep radiance flies. Merrily flushing overhead Names of brothers long since fled, LOVED WINCHESTER 149 And fresh clusters in their stead Jubilant round fierce forest flame. Love alone of gifts no shame Marreth, and I love thee ; yet Sound it but of echoes, let Thine my maiden music be, Of the love I bear to thee, Witness and interpreter, Mother mine, loved Winchester ! L. P. J. (Lionel P. Johnson). In The Wykehamist, December 18, 1888. THERE are in like maner diuerse collegiat churches as Windsor, 'Poore Wincester . . . and in those a great number of poore scholers, 8cholei dailie mainteened by the liberalise of the founders, with meat, bookes, and apparell, from whence after they haue beene well entered in the knowledge of the Latine and Greeke toongs and rules of versifieing (the triall whereof is made by certeine apposers yearelie appointed to examine them), they are sent to certeine especiall houses in each universitie, where they are receiued [and] trained up, in the points of higher knowledge in their priuat hals, till they be adjudged meet to shew their faces in the schooles, as I haue said alreadie. Harrison's Description of England, apud Holinshed's Chronicle, c. 1577, sub. ' Universities.' THERE is, indeed, a peculiar genius loci which seems to a con- Five siderable extent to account for the powerful grip which the ^f* 11 / 16 ! at Winchester old school takes on the affection of her children. She and her daughter Eton stand alone among our public schools in this respect that they are essentially mediaeval, not modern institutions. The touch of the vanished hand of the Middle Ages is upon Winchester. As one passes into the old quad- rangle, mingles with the boys in college, and listens to their 150 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER talk stuffed full with old-world words, ' notions,' as they call them which passed out of general use centuries ago, but which would bring a smile of recognition to the face of Chaucer, Spenser, or of Shakespeare if they could hear them, one realises with unaccustomed force the continuity and unity of English history. This community of persons, living in the same buildings, under the same rules, and speaking the same language as their predecessors did in the fourteenth century, should remind the Englishman of the Victorian age of the deep-down connection, in the very roots of the race, between the England of to-day and that faint and far-away England of the Middle Ages of which Winchester is an almost unique survival. It is, indeed, the peculiar glory of Winchester that she has practically never changed her system. She has contrived to preserve almost all the old, and yet to assimilate all that is best in the new civilisation from age to age, so as to be at the present time as powerful an educational force as she was in the first flush of her youth. . . . Well may she look back with pride upon her five long centuries of life, and well may her sons respond with gratitude to the call, ' Let us now praise famous men and our fathers who begat us.' The Daily Graphic, July 25, 1893. me Wyke- THAT which is the Wykehamist's Mecca, the centre of his 8 remembrances which is as beautiful in the glow of a summer Mecca evening as it is on a moonlight night is Chamber Court. The walls of Chapel and hall on its southern side have gained so rich a colour from the weather, the material and the size of the other three sides have been adjusted with so nice a perception of proportion, that it has a strange fascination for those who love it. The grey flint is stern and strong, but time has done much to soften the severity of the outline, and Wykeham's plan has gained much by age, though it has lost something by alteration. Illustrated London News, January 31, 1891. CHAINS OF REMEMBRANCE 151 O STATELY Mother, long by circumstance ' o stately Firm wedded to the pleasant meadow leas, Whose calm to unravel from thy chasten'd spell Our hearts in vain essay ! With what a chain Of sweet remembrance dost thou bind thy sons. We took the gifts thou gavest unawares, But ne'er forgot them, when at eventime, With universal hush thy darkening fields Felt holy twilight whose o'erbrooding calm Drave far all alien spirits. Through black tops Of wintry elms glittered pale sky, and where Day sank beneath the jetty ridge of down, Calm pulsed the evening star in mellow air. Or when beneath the moon's great open eye Slept all the lands untroubled, and the woods, Rapt deep in lapping slumbers, quite forgot The lidless glare of noon : when shrouded mists Spread all enamoured round each dripping stem, And took the long black shadow, that was cast From one lone pinnacle, whose carven height Fretted that holy presence was not this The Spirit in thee that can never die ? Or when, together met in yon dim fane, We heard the pealing organ strain to fill The cold vast aisles that melted into gloom, Mocking their yellow tapers : when there came A silent lull, and in some distant aisle An echo lingered strangely ; was not this That even-pulsed joy, which liveth still When veil'd and dim are pleasure's heated eyes ? To what an heritage thou growest heir, Thy children know not : only this we know, For five long centuries. . . . The Wykehamist, July 1893. 152 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Reticence Reserve and To the visitor who has made his way from the bright spacious- ness of the Cathedral Close, the first impression, as he stands fronting the ancient gateway in College Street, is one of austerity. The sunless street, the high fronting wall of flint and stone, pierced only here and there by a chance window, the massive oaken door, the grime of ages that has settled everywhere, all combine to strike a note of unrelieved gloom : it is the same suggestion of reserve and reticence which meets us in the high- walled approach to the sister college at Oxford, as if to make the beauty of the interior all the more striking from its contrast with the plain outside. The Rev. W. P. Smith on Winchester College, in Memorials of Old Hampshire, ed. G. E. Jeans. Bemrose and Sons, 1906. Fifty yeara ago IN lulling music will I rest awhile, And watch the streamers of the water weed Dark-waving, and anon the dusky trout Steering beneath them in the shadow cool, Or down amid the cresses ; while the stream Makes and withdraws in haste a myriad pouts, Then flows in silence darkling to the mill. Beneath these level poised leaves I see Quick sparkling gnats above the water brooks Sunlit : and kine yon luscious herbage crop, Through rich wet pasture, striped with sun and shade And set with willow coppices ; beyond There smokes the road, by dusty poplars lined, And here the river, whirling cropped grass, And tangled weeds, with sweet and juicy stalks, Fresh, sickle-severed in the misty morn, Comes winding silently along the leas. Hark, from the distant towers in mellow tone Chime answers dreamy chime, while I hear And thus regard thine all untroubled sleep, Steeped in noon's yellow sunlight, like a dream, LOOKING BACKWARD 153 Deep in my heart the Angel memory Unravels all this weary circumstance Which age has wov'n about me. Yet a thought Chains me again to sorrow. I am grey, And old, and long forgotten. It was said That some of lovely soul or golden tongue Chance upon fame and live for ever. These Are for all time, and many such there be. But some, though haply with small wit endowed, Yet to their powers breathe out their little souls In salving somewhat in an o'erfretted world That else had cried in vain : their work is done, Down in the dust they lie, and their poor names Are quite immersed in this lapsing time. Oh, give me back my years that I may laugh With cheeks unwrinkled, and a heart as yet By age unfrozen. Swift the years have fled, And men awake, and all the hills are white. The Wykehamist, July 1893. To THE REV. DR. LOWTH, ON HIS LIFE OF WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM O LOWTH, while Wykeham's various worth you trace A tribute And bid to distant times his annals shine, fr T the poet Indulge another bard of Wykeham's race w&ite&ead In the fond wish to add his name to thine. From the same fount, with reverence, let me boast The classic streams with early thirst I caught ; What time, they say, the Muses revel'd most, When Bigg presided and when Burton taught. 154 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Yes, ye sweet fields, beside your osier'd stream Full many an Attic hour my youth enjoy'd ; Full many a friendship form'd, life's happiest dream, And treasured many a bliss which never cloy'd. William Whitehead, 1715-1784. A Dedication To St. Mary's College, Winton, in whose classic halls I matured that love of literature which has been the joy and consolation of my life, and on the hills in whose vicinity I learned to fight my ' decisive battles,' this volume is inscribed with reverence and affection. Dedication of Colonel Malleson's The Decisive Battles of India. Allen and Co., London, 1883. 2. COLLEGE CONSTITUTION DE COLLEGIO SEU POTIUS COLLEGIATA SCHOLA WlCCAMICA WlNTONIENSI De Collegio Numbers in College INTER turrigeras, quas Anglia continet, urbes Urbs antiqua suo minitatur culmine nubes ; Venta prius dicta est ; Wintonia deinde vocata : Regalis platea est, si vulgi more loquamur. Wiccamus, insignis mitraque pedoque Suithini, Condidit his sacris Sacraria digna Camcenis ; Hie, hie pauperibus Kovporpofyov ille locavit ; Et ne dirueret saevus fundamina Daemon, Tutelae domus haec Divae est sacrata Mariae. Collegiata Schola Wiccamica Wintoniensi, 1 in The College of St. Mary, Winton, ed. by C. W. (C. Wordsworth) 1848. ET ne civili domus haec arderet ab igne, Est positus Gustos, qui praesidet omnibus unus. Sunt duo, cura vagae quibus est commissa Juventae, Atque decem Socii, qui dicti a plebe Magistri. 1 The author of this poem has been proved not to be the headmaster, Christopher Johnson (1560-71), as Wordsworth believed. It was evidently written at a much later date under the headmastership of John Potenger (1642-1653). See The Wykehamist, July 1899. COLLEGE CONSTITUTION 155 Inde Capellani, qui constant ordine trino 5 Vindicat et trinum numerum sibi Clericus ; unus Organa qui facili percurrit dissona dextra : Sed pueros numerus bene septuagesimus arctat. Praefecti octodecim seniores rite vocantur ; Exemplo monituque Scholae moderamina servant : Si tamen obstiterint rabidi, nimiumque protervi, Nomina sunt chartae, charta est data deinde Magistro, Qui quadripartita. bene corrigit omnia virga. Sex-decimus numerus jubet ut sit meta Choristis ; Hi resonant sacros argutis vocibus hymnos In Templo ] ex Templo Sociis, Puerisque ministrant : His quoque discipulis patet almi janua Ludi. Nomine seu Pueri vociteris, sivi Choristae, Non caput obtegitur pilio, crassove galero, Cimmeriisque togis vestiti inceditis omnes. Sex Camerae Pueris signantur, et una Choristis. Ut magis hie mores serventur et ordo decorus, Praefecti camera tres praepomintur in una. Collegiata Schola Wiccamica Wintoniensi, in The College of St. Mary, Winton, ed. by C. W. (C. Wordsworth) 1848. LOWTH, and most other writers who speak of this College, Mysterious mention the number and respective degrees of its members; ' numbers of but none of them, since Harpsfield, seem to be aware of the college mysterious meaning of these determinate numbers and qualities. commumt y We may venture, then, to say, after the hint of this author, who was himself a distinguished Wykehamist at the beginning of the sixteenth century, that the warden and ten priests, who were perpetual fellows, represented the College of the apostles, Judas Iscariot, of course, not being represented ; that the head- master and second-master, with seventy scholars, denoted the seventy-two disciples ; that the three chaplains and three inferior clerks marked the six faithful deacons ; Nicholas, one of that number, having apostatised, has therefore no representative ; 156 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER First peal School Unruly FellowB finally, that the sixteen choristers represented the four greater and the twelve minor prophets. Historical and Descriptive Guide to Winchester, 1829. PURPUREAS Aurora fores ubi pandit ab ortu Eoo, et quinta cum linea tangitur umbra, Stridula spirantes campana reverberat auras. Inde sonus subito somnosus perferat aures : ' Surgite,' Praefectus clamat ; ' Num stertitis,' ohe ! Jam campana sonat ; vos surgite, surgite, pigri. Collegiata Schola Wiccamica Wintoniensi, in The College of St. Mary, Winton, ed. by C. W., 1848. MUSA, Scholam memora, quae vera est mamma Minervae, Quae pleno pueros lactentes ubere nutrit. Quatuor iliceis fulcris schola nostra quiescit ; Lux tribus hanc lustrat bipatentibus alma fenestris, In quibus octodecim Praefectis structa superne, Ut bene praesideant aliis, subsellia dantur. Haec Australis habet paries ; Borealis apertam Totius mundi tabulam ; qui tendit ad ortum Ostendit, fieri quae, Quintiliane, requiris ; Muras ad occasum capit hoc insigne decorum, AUT DISCE, AUT DISCEDE, MANET SORS TERTIA CAEDI. Ibid. TRELAWNY, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, TO DR. JOHN RADCLIFFE, THE FAMOUS PHYSICIAN DEAR SIR, This is no visiting day, and to-morrow I am obliged to go fifteen or sixteen miles to confirm, and yet what I have to say to you is of such importance to me that I must not delay it, for feare lest you should happen unwarily to do me a mischief, which I am sure you would not willingly do. I have reason to believe that some of the Fellows of Winchester College may, some how or other, have made friends to you to UNRULY FELLOWS 157 engage my Lord Treasurer to countenance them so far as to get an order of council to put a stop to my proceedings in my inquiry into the reasons of their disobeying the injunctions of the Warden and powers of New College. From the steps which I have already made in this matter, they distrusting the merits of theyr cause, appealed to the Archbishop, insinuating that I only visited them as diocesan ; but his Grace, by the Dean of Arches, being satisfied that I acted not as Bishop but as Visitor of the College, dismissed theyr appeal as being sensible he had nothing to do with it. From him they apply'd to the Lord Keeper for a Commission of Delegacy ; but his lordship went out of town without doing anything in it, as convinced, I believe, that this matter was only fit for Westminster Hall, there being no one instance, as the lawyers tell me, of its being referred to a Court of Delegates to determine whether a person be Visitor or not, which surely a certain gentleman was not aware of, who broke in upon my Lord Keeper last Wednesday with rudeness and impudence, to hope to have awd his Lordship into a grant of such a Commission, for some men of late days give themselves strange opinions of theyr having made the late change in the Ministry, and upon that account think they may use them at present with familiarity, perhaps command ; and I wish they may not think my Lord Treasurer himself to be one of theyr creatures ; but be theyr interest and success what it will, having justice and the laws of the land on my side, I am resolved to go on, and, if I go beyond my powers, no doubt but Westminster Hall will make me sensible of it. I have been now neare four years, and made three journies on purpose, persuading the Warden and Fellows of Winchester College to make up theyr differences among themselves, and if that could not be done to take in the assistance of the Dean and Prebendaries of Winchester, telling them they did not know what mischief they might do themselves by forcing me on a 158 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Visitation. Sometimes they gave me hopes that things should be amicably made up ; but now, by an encouragement which perhaps they will not be thankfull for, they make it necessary for me. I should not have given you this trouble, but that I foresee that your interest will be apply'd for by one of the fellows who is your patient, which I am sorry for, becaus if you knew him as well as I do, you could not think him fit to live. . . . July 29, 1711. Trelawny Papers, Camden Miscellany, vol. ii. Three IT was said by them of old time that there were three absolute Rviierf 8 rulers in the world : the Great Mogul, the captain of a man of war, and the prefect of hall at Winchester. W. Tuckwell. Winchester Fifty Years Ago. Macmillan and Co., 1893. The old order THE Winchester College of to-day differs far more from the same college of ten years ago than that of ten years ago can have differed from that of a couple of centuries since. Till recently the sacrifices made to the requirements of public opinion consisted in such improvements as the substitution of plates for trenchers, of meat for a gristly imitation of the same, of large airy and hideously ugly reading and dining halls for those glorious old edifices of the good old days in which our fathers hardened themselves for the trials of life by ' jockeying ' for milk, or impaling on their toasting forks the incautious rat who shared the nursery of learning in copartnery with themselves. All this is utterly changed, and in every one's opinion, save the rats, changed for the better. Old Commoners have been absolutely abolished, and the Commoners or non-foundation boys of Winchester now reside in the nine Masters' houses, where they are brought up in a style and comfort which our fathers would have condemned, while they quoted the case of Jeshurun. The number of Commoners is little short of three hundred, A FOUNDER OF OLD COMMONERS 159 while we believe that within the last twelve years it stood as low as sixty. The College has undergone no less marvellous changes. The number of College boys has been increased from seventy to seventy-five. Sixth and Seventh Chambers the objects of time-honoured and uncomfortable associations to many a Wykehamist, since the time when first the ' serge-clad scholars drank of the crystal water beneath the plane-tree's bough/ to the present enlightened age of improved swipes Sixth and Seventh Chambers have been transformed from sleeping apartments into sitting-rooms for College boys. The wall which separated Commoners from College has been taken away, and Commoner and College-boy now no longer look on one another as natural enemies. The Globe, November 12, 1870. 3. COMMONERS VERSES ON THE DEATH OF DR. BURTON BATHE not for me, dear youths ! your mournful lays A Founder of Old Commoners In bitter tears. O'er blooming Beauty's grave Let Pity wring her hands : I full of years, Of honours full, satiate of life, retire Like an o'er- wearied pilgrim to his home, Nor at my lot repine. Yet the last prayer, That from my struggling bosom parts, shall rise Fervent for you ! May Wickham's much-loved walls Be still with Science, Fame and Virtue blest, And distant times and regions hail his name. Dr. Joseph Warton. How many noble associations do we owe to Wykeham's bounty ? The debt of Commoners to Wykeham The glorious old city, still royal in its decay ; the breezy heights Common6rs of St. Catherine's with its solitary tuft of firs ; the old school- room with its ' books,' and ' scobs,' and quaint mural painting ; the noble chapel, where the sun would stream gloriously through i6o IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER the Jesse window ; where we listened to more than one beloved voice, which ' though dead, still speaketh ' ; the yet grander cathedral, whither, Sunday after Sunday, we were wont in our simple procession to repair ; the sweet strain of Duke domum, sung in the summer twilight, these are ours, as truly as though our names had been duly enrolled in the Warden's books, and we had faced in awe and trembling the magnates of election chamber. H. C. Adams. Wykchamica, 1878. Gentleman Commoner in the eighteenth century The supposed PEREGRINE, who was now turned of twelve, had made such Adventun advances under the instruction of Jennings, that he often disputed upon grammar, and was sometimes thought to have the better in his contests with the parish-priest, who, notwith- standing this acknowledged superiority of his antagonist, did great justice to his genius, which he assured Mr. Trunnion [Peregrine's uncle] would be lost for want of cultivation, if the boy was not immediately sent to prosecute his studies at some proper seminary of learning. This maxim had been more than once inculcated upon the Commodore by Mrs. Trunnion, who, over and above the deference she paid to the parson's opinion, had a reason of her own for wishing to see the house clear of Peregrine, at whose prying disposition she began to be very uneasy. Induced by these motives, which were joined by the solicitation of the youth himself, who ardently longed to see a little more of the world, his uncle determined to send him forthwith to Winchester, under the immediate care and inspection of a governor, to whom he allowed a very handsome appointment for that purpose. This gentleman, whose name was Mr. Jacob Jolter, had been school-fellow with the parson of the parish, who recommended him to Mrs. Trunnion as a person of great worth and learning, in every respect qualified for the office of tutor. He likewise added, by way of eulogium, that he was a man of exemplary PEREGRINE PICKLE 161 piety, and particularly zealous for the honour of the Church of which he was a member, having been many years in holy orders, though he did not then exercise any function of the priesthood. Indeed, Mr. Jolter's zeal was so exceedingly fervent as, on some occasions, to get the better of his discretion : for, being a high churchman, and of consequence a malcontent, his resentment was habituated into an insurmountable prejudice against the present disposition of affairs, which, by confounding the nation with the ministry, sometimes led him into erroneous, not to say absurd, calculations otherwise, a man of good morals, well versed in mathematics and school divinity, studies which had not at all contributed to sweeten and unbend the natural sourness and severity of his complexion. This gentleman being destined to the charge of superintending Perry's education, everything was prepared for their departure ; and Tom Pipes, in consequence of his own petition, put into livery, and appointed footman to the young squire. . . . As for the lieutenant [Jack Hatchway] he accompanied them in the coach ; and such was the friendship he had contracted for Perry, that when the Commodore proposed to return, after having accomplished the intent of his journey, Jack absolutely refused to attend him, and signified his resolution to stay where he was. . . . ' I have some thoughts of going to school myself to learn your Latin lingo ; for as the saying is " Better late mend than never." And I am informed as how one can get more for the money here than anywhere else.' In vain did Trunnion endeavour to convince him of the folly of going to school at his years, by representing that the boys would make game of him, and that he would become a laughing- stock to all the world ; he persisted in his resolution to stay, and the Commodore was fain to have recourse to the mediation of Pipes and Perry, who employed their influence with Jack, and at last prevailed upon him to return to the garrison. . . . Thus left to the prosecution of his studies, Peregrine was in a little time a distinguished character, not only for his acuteness L 162 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER of apprehension, but also for that mischievous fertility of fancy, of which we have already given such pregnant examples. But as there was a great number of such luminaries in this new sphere to which he belonged, his talents were not so conspicuous while they shone hi his single capacity, as they afterwards appeared, when they concentrated and reflected the rays of the whole constellation. At first he confined himself to piddling game, exercising his genius upon his own tutor, who attracted his attention by endeavouring to season his mind with certain political maxims, the fallacy of which he had discernment enough to perceive. Scarce a day passed in which he did not find means to render Mr. Jolter the object of ridicule ; his violent prejudices, ludicrous vanity, awkward solemnity and ignorance of mankind, afforded continual food for the raillery, petulance, and satire of his pupil, who never neglected an opportunity of laughing and making others laugh at his expense. Sometimes in their parties, by mixing brandy in his wine, he decoyed this pedagogue into a debauch, during which his caution forsook him and he exposed himself to the censure of the company. ... All the remains of authority which he had hitherto preserved over Peregrine soon vanished ; so that, for the future, no sort of ceremony subsisted between them, and all Mr. Jolter's precepts were conveyed in hints of friendly advice, which the other might either follow or neglect at his own pleasure. No wonder then that Peregrine gave a loose to his inclinations, and by dint of genius and an enterprising temper, made a figure among the younger class of heroes hi the school. Before he had been a full year at Winchester, he had signalised himself in so many achievements, in defiance to the laws and regulations of the place, that he was looked upon with admiration, and actually chosen Dux, or leader, by a large body of his contemporaries. It was not long before his fame reached the ears of the master, who sent for Mr. Jolter, communicated to him the informations he had received, and ordered him to .. FURTHER ADVENTURES 163 redouble his vigilance in time to come, else he should be obliged to make a public example of his pupil for the benefit of the school. . . . [The governor, after expostulating with Peregrine, suggested the study of mathematics] ' as yielding more rational and sensible pleasures to a youthful fancy than any other subject of contemplation ' ; and actually began to read Euclid with him the same afternoon. Peregrine entered upon this branch of learning with all that warmth of application which boys commonly yield on the first change of study; but he had scarce advanced beyond the Pons Asinorum, when his ardour abated, the test of truth by demonstration did not elevate him to those transports of joy with which his preceptor had regaled his expectation ; and before he arrived at the forty-seventh proposition he began to yawn drearily, make abundance of wry faces, and thought himself but indifferently paid for his attention . . . and he returned with double relish to his former avocations. . . . His behaviour was now no other than a series of licence and effrontery prank succeeded prank and outrage followed outrage, with surprising velocity. Complaints were every day preferred against him ; in vain were admonitions bestowed by the governor in private, and menaces discharged by the masters in public ; he disregarded the first, despised the latter, divested himself of all manner of restraint, and proceeded in his career to such a pitch of audacity, that a consultation was held upon the subject, in which it was determined that this untoward spirit should be humbled by a severe and ignominious flogging for the very next offence he should commit. In the meantime Mr. Jolter was desired to write in the master's name to the Commodore, requesting him to remove Tom Pipes from the person of his nephew, the said Pipes being a principal actor and abettor in all his malversations ; and to put a stop to the monthly visitations of the mutilated lieutenant [Jack Hatchway], who had never once failed to use his permission, but came punctual to a day, always fraught with some new invention. 164 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Indeed, by this time Mr. Hatchway was as well known, and much better beloved, by every boy in the school than the master who instructed him, and always received by a number of scholars, who used to attend Peregrine when he went forth to meet his friend, and conduct him to his lodging with public testimonies of joy and applause. As for Tom Pipes, he was not so properly the attendant of Peregrine, as master of the revels to the whole school. He mingled in all their parties, and superintended the diversions, deciding between boy and boy, as if he acted by commission under the great seal. He regulated their motions by his whistle, instructed the young boys in the games of hustle-cap, leap- frog, and chuck-farthing ; imparted to those of a more advanced age the sciences of cribbage and all-fours, together with the method of storming the castle, acting the comedy of Prince Arthur, and other pantomines, as they are commonly exhibited at sea ; and instructed the seniors, who were distinguished by the appellation of bloods, in cudgel-playing, dancing the St. Giles's hornpipe, drinking flip, and smoking tobacco. These qualifications had rendered him so necessary and acceptable to the scholars that, exclusive of Perry's concern in the affair, his dismissal, in all probability, would have produced some dangerous convulsion in the community. Jolter, therefore, knowing his importance, informed his pupil of the directions he had received, and very candidly asked how he should demean himself in the execution ; for he durst not write to the Commodore without this previous notice, fearing that the young gentleman, as soon as he should get an inkling of the affair, would follow the example, and make his uncle acquainted with certain anecdotes which it was the governor's interest to keep concealed. Peregrine was of opinion that he should spare himself the trouble of conveying any complaints to the Commodore, and if questioned by the master, assure him he had complied with his desire ; at the same time he promised faithfully to conduct himself with such circumspection for the THE FLOGGING OF PEREGRINE 165 future, that the masters should have no temptation to revive the inquiry. But the resolution attending this extorted promise was too frail to last, and in less than a fortnight our young hero found himself entangled in an adventure from which he was not extricated with his usual good fortune. He and some of his companions one day entered a garden in the suburbs, and having indulged their appetites desired to know what satisfaction they must make for the fruit they had pulled. The gardener demanded what (in their opinion) was an exorbitant price, and they, with many opprobrious terms, refused to pay it. The peasant being surly and untractable, insisted upon his right ; neither was he deficient or sparing in the eloquence of vulgar abuse. ... [A scuffle followed, in which the fortune of the day was decided by the superior strength of Tom Pipes ; the gardener was left ' in the embraces of his Mother Earth,' and was afterwards ' conveyed to his bed, from which he was not able to stir during a whole month.'] His family coming upon the parish, a formal complaint was made to the master of the school, and Peregrine represented as the ringleader of those who com- mitted this barbarous assault. An inquiry was immediately set on foot, and the articles of impeachment being fully proved, our hero was sentenced to be severely chastised in the face of the whole school. This was a disgrace the thoughts of which his proud heart could not brook. He resolved to make his elopement rather than undergo the punishment to which he was doomed ; and having signified his sentiments to his confederates, they promised, one and all, to stand by him, and either screen him from chastisement, or share his fate. Confiding in this friendly protestation, he appeared uncon- cerned on the day that was appointed for his punishment ; and when he was called to his destiny, advanced towards the scene, attended by the greatest part of the scholars, who intimated their determination to the master, and proposed that Peregrine should be forgiven. The superior behaved with that dignity of demeanour which became his place, represented the folly 166 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER and presumption of their demand, reprehended them for their audacious proceeding, and ordered every boy to his respective station. They obeyed his command, and our unfortunate hero was publicly horsed, in terrorem of all whom it might concern. This disgrace had a very sensible effect upon the mind of Peregrine, who having by this time passed the fourteenth year of his age, began to adopt the pride and sentiments of a man. Thus dishonourably stigmatised, he was ashamed to appear in public as usual : he was incensed against his companions for their infidelity and irresolution, and plunged into a profound reverie that lasted several weeks, during which he shook off his boyish connections and fixed his view upon objects which he thought more worthy of his attention. . . . Being one evening at a ball which is always given to the ladies at the time of the races, the person who acted as master of the ceremonies, knowing how fond Mr. Pickle was of every opportunity to display himself, came up and told him that there was a fine young creature at the other end of the room, who seemed to have a great inclination to dance a minuet, but wanted a partner, the gentleman who attended her being in boots. Peregine's vanity being aroused at this intimation, he went up to reconnoitre the young lady, and was struck with admira- tion at her beauty . . . her whole appearance [was] so captivating, that our young Adonis looked and was overcome. . . . [The next day he found out from the young lady] that her habitation was about sixteen miles from Winchester, in a village which she named, and where (as he could easily gather from her discourse) he would be no unwelcome guest. . . . Having received a supply of money from the Commodore who acted towards him with great generosity, he ordered Pipes to put up some linen and other necessaries in a sort of knapsack which he could conveniently carry, and thus attended set out early one morning on foot for the village where his charmer lived, at which he arrived before two o'clock in the afternoon ; having chosen this method of travelling, that his route might not be so A YOUNG ADONIS 167 easily discovered, as it must have been had he hired horses, or taken a place in a stage coach. . . . While he remained under the influence of this sweet intoxication, his absence produced great disturbance at Winchester. Mr. Jolter was grievously afflicted at his abrupt departure, which alarmed him the more as it happened after a long fit of melancholy which he had perceived in his pupil. He communicated his apprehensions to the master of the school, who advised him to apprise the Commodore of his nephew's disappearance, and in the meantime inquire at all the inns in town whether he had hired horses, or any sort of carriage. . . . Mr. Trunnion was wellnigh dis- tracted at the news of his flight : ... he immediately dispatched expresses to all the seaport towns on that coast, that he might be prevented from leaving the kingdom ; and the lieutenant, at his own desire, was sent across the country, in quest of the young fugitive. Four days had he unsuccessfully carried on his inquiries with great accuracy, when, resolving to return by Winchester, where he hoped to meet with some hints of intelligence, by which he might profit in his future search, he struck off the common road to take the benefit of a nearer cut ; and finding himself benighted near a village, took up his lodgings at the first inn to which his horse directed him. . . . [Here he chances to meet Tom Pipes and the hero, whom he persuaded of the] danger of incensing the Commodore . . . and, in short, conveyed his arguments ... in such expressions of friendship and respect, that Peregrine yielded to his remonstrances, and promised to accompany him next day to Winchester. . . . [Accordingly the next day they set out from the inn and] arrived about two o'clock in Winchester, where Mr. Jolter was overwhelmed with joy at their appearance. The nature of this adventure being unknown to all except those who could be depended upon, everybody who inquired about the cause of Peregrine's absence was told that he had been with a relation in the country, and the master condescended 168 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER to overlook his indiscretion. . . . [However] the Commodore fearing that Perry was hi danger of involving himself in some pernicious engagement, resolved, by advice of Mr. Jolter and his friend, the parish priest, to recall him from the place where he had contracted such imprudent connections, and send him to the University where his education might be completed, and his fancy weaned from all puerile amusements. . . . Meanwhile, preparations were made for Peregrine's departure to the University, and in a few weeks he set out, in the seventeenth year of his age, accompanied by the same attendants who lived with him at Winchester. Tobias Smollett. The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle, 1751. DAVID, LORD ELCHO, AT WINCHESTER The real IT was . . . towards something tangible [i.e. Jacobitism], of a en and not the pursuit of a forlorn hope, that Elcho's education was Gentleman directed. Before the age of nine he had been taught by a non- commoner . at Winchester J urm g minister of the English Church that allegiance was due college in the no t to the usurper at St. James's, but to the King over the water, eighteenth century and that the Episcopalian ritual in no way suffered by the omission of the prayers for the House of Hanover. Thus initiated and prepared he set out [from Wemyss Castle] in 1734 for Winchester, in the company of his father. In those days, if all went well, such a journey occupied from twelve to sixteen days, and was performed by persons of wealth and position in a coach drawn either by six or four horses. . . . At Winchester, where he was placed under the care of a Jacobite tutor, Elcho found that the school, like the rest of the world, was divided into Hanoverians (or ' Georgites,' as he calls them) and supporters of the Stuarts. Thus the headmaster, Burton, was a Jacobite, the second master a Georgite, and on one occasion, when Elcho himself was in difficulty over a set of verses and sought assistance from a fellow-pupil, he was met by the question : ' Are you Georgite or Jacobite ? ' The GAMBLING AND COCK-FIGHTING 169 answer proving satisfactory, the help was rendered, accompanied by the threat that if ever he was seen making friends with any of the Hanoverians, he would have to go elsewhere for his verses. Partisanship indeed seems to have played a larger part than education in the school world of that day. Learning was mainly restricted to the seventy scholars resident at the College ; the wealthier boys boarded in the town with their tutors, and by gambling, cock-fighting, and tavern life acquired a ' polite taste for pleasurable vice.' No wonder that Elcho became one of that mob of gentlemen who spelt with difficulty in the eighteenth century. But if books were neglected, no pains were spared to bring home to the boys a due sense of their earthly prerogatives and temporal distinctions. At church on Sundays peers and the sons of peers were conspicuous in robes of blue, red, or green, baronets and knights in black, while the ' untitled gentle- men ' sat apart in the ordinary dress of the time. The everyday life of the school was marked less by titular than by racial differences, and young Elcho, with nationality aflame in his blood, was driven to a course of boxing as the best means of combating the charge that his origin was Scottish. Here again the school was a reflection of the greater world without a reflection multiplied by youth and the ardours of personal conflict. ... At Winchester the common taunt was that in Scotland they grew no wheat. . . . He [Lord Elcho] had indeed a precocious relish for combats of all kinds, and at Winchester, when not vindicating his accent with his fists, was a constant spectator at cock-fights or encounters between rustics ' for a hat presented by the Lord of the village.' Lord Elcho. Affairs of Scotland, 1744-1746 (ed. 1907), Memoir by the Hon. Evan Charteris, pp. 8-n. David Douglas, Edinburgh. 4 SHORTLY after [John] Murray's introduction to James, the same Lord Elcho honour was also asked by a young man then wintering at Rome, atWmclie8tr whose family had always been most loyal to the Jacobite cause. 170 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Lord Elcho, the eldest son of the Earl of Wemyss, had just completed his studies at Winchester School, and, as with Murray, was giving his education a finishing touch by foreign travel. The old Earl had been repeatedly offered posts under the Hanoverian Government, but invariably refused to take the oath of allegiance, preferring the society of Paris to that of his own country. As soon as his son reached boyhood he sent him to Winchester, where, if we can credit the Diary of Lord Elcho, the discipline enforced was not of the strictest character. The boys played cards, haunted taverns, and their morals were any- thing but carefully looked after. ' We did not learn,' frankly writes Lord Elcho, ' Latin and Greek as well as we should have done had we been placed with a private tutor, but we were taught how to live as men of the world, and made acquaintances, which, if cultivated, could be very useful to us in after life.' Among these useful acquaintances were the sons of the Dukes of Hamilton, Devonshire, and Queensborough, 1 and the Earls of Exeter and Coventry. As in the outer world, the school was divided into Jacobites and Hanoverians, and frequent conflicts ensued between those who supported ' King Jamie ' and those who gave in their adherence to the ' Wee, wee German lairdie.' Alex. Chas. Ewald. The Life and Times of Prince Charles Stuart. Chatto and Windus, 1904. 4. THE MAKING OF ' MEN ' PROGRESS OF LEARNING THE fatal morn arrives, and oh j sc hool the blubb'ring youth must go, youth Before the Muse's hallow'd shrine Each joy domestic to resign | No more, as erst at break of day, To brush the early dew away, 1 Evidently Queensberry 1 . THE MAKING OF MEN 171 But in ideal range to fly O'er fancied fields of Poetry, Again to cull the mystic stores Of Phrases, Tropes, and Metaphores, Now gives Mama her last caressing, And fond Papa bestows his blessing. These sweet endearments scarcely o'er, The chaise drives rattling to the door. But to be brief we '11 be content With only saying ' Off he went.' Our youth, the joys of home forgot, Now grows contented with his lot ; On Virgil's sweets can dwell with Pleasure, With Sully pass the hours of Leisure, In verses act with skill his part Nay, say the Iliad all by heart. He 's not (if authors rightly tell us) One of those harum-scarum fellows Who seek to know no other pleasure Than those of eating and of leisure ; Who thinks the beauties of the Classic Enough to make a very ass sick, And own no joys beyond the chase, No recreations but a race. By him far nobler joys are found In Sully's arguments profound, No dainties please him like the sweets Of Homer's compound epithets. At length on Isis banks he views The walls belov'd by ev'ry Muse. 172 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER But fast the rolling years glide on, And life's far better half is gone. He now to other things aspires, Accepts a living and retires. Long time his flock beheld him shine A zealous and a wise divine, Until as ebbing life retires A Dean'ry crowns his last desires. Behold him now, devoid of care, Snug seated in his elbow chair He cracks his jokes and eats his fill, On Sunday preaches if he will, Solves doubts as soon as others start 'em By argument secundum artem Now puzzles o'er in warm debate Each weighty point of Church and State, Or tells o'er now in merry strain The pranks of early life again, Recalls to mem'ry school disasters, Unfinished tasks and angry masters. As erst to him, O heavenly Maid, Learning, to me impart thy aid ; teach my feet like his to stray Along preferment's flow'ry way ! And if thy hallow'd shrine before 1 e'er thy ready aid implore, O make me, Sphere-descended Queen, A Bishop or at least a Dean ! D. N. Shuttleworth (when a College Commoner, 1800). Add. MS. 29,539, ft. 29A, 31^. [N.B. Shuttleworth became Warden of New College and Bishop of Chichester. There is a note at the beginning of the volume of task-poems, in which this is contained, in THE POSERS 173 the hand of Mr. Mackenzie Walcott, who presented the volume to the British Museum : 'At Winchester Commoners used to keep MS. task-books, containing verse tasks and prize poems gained in the school. Probably this is the only one which survived the dispersion consequent on Old Commoners being destroyed. I never saw one after that time. Probably all the toys were cleared out. December 15, 1873.'] COMITIA WlCCAMICA 1 EN sperata Dies ! annus redit actus in orbem. Cognatus Gustos, binis cum Fratribus, aedes Wykami visit ; comitum longissimus ordo Addunt se socios, et recto tramite tendunt. Proxima mirantur venientem compita pompam. Ut notas portas tetigere hinc inde patentes, Magni descendunt equites ; in limine primo Quisque suo vario sermone salutat amicum. Stans dudum Orator, turba comitante togati, Insolitum tremit, et dubia formidine pallens Custodem exspectat venientem ; passibus aequis Pone legunt fratres vestigia tarda minores ; Invitos signat majestas seria vultus. Cuique suas simul attribuit facundia laudes, Scinditur in varias partes diffusa corona ; Hos juvat antiquas sedes exquirere Matris, Atria nota tenant, adeunt penetrale Minervae Nee scriptae Leges, nee Virgae terret Imago ; Illos dulcis amor, Pietas materna moratur, Turba frequens lata hue illuc spatiantur Arena. The Wykehamist, November 1906. The coming of the Posers WE reached Winchester late in the evening of the day before The arrival of a stick the election [July 1820], putting up, not at ' The George/ or at of a ' Can is poe ti ca l for if quite ' a la Milton ') Elections 'Twixt eloquence a swerve an alto voice, All the sweet fancies that my hopes have built on, It will surprise thee, may be, That I would be this gaping little baby. Yes, I was once like this deluded child, I wandered rather vaguely to ' Elections,' Mild as a cherub, yes, and sweetly mild, When I was told that they had strong objections To my poor mathematics, And other things in my cerebral attics. I would too stand and reverently cap The masters (yes, and all the college ' chappies '). I too was nursed in Fortune's ample lap, If you 're aware what Fortune's ample lap is. I failed in French, and eke In Latin, and in English, and in Greek. You have, like many another candidate, Sought vainly, when you Ve heard our erring clock, it 's Elusive face 5 you 've tried to imitate Our walk, and our affection for our pockets. You have no doubt decided That it 's a ' spiffing place.' Yes, that 's what I did. You have, no doubt, been shown the ' pliant ash,' And braved delightfully that first sweet ' gutter ' ; ENCHANTED YEARS 177 You Ve spoiled your Verses with a ' Fourpenny Mash/ And (in a deep bass voice) have striv'n to utter, With most sublime emotions, Small fragmentary particles of Notions. These joys are mine no more : and I opine That I must go (how sad it is to think we Must part for ever) : but they will be thine For five long years (in Latin annos quinque), And thou wilt take, alas ! My place (that is, supposing that you pass). A. P. Herbert. Poor Poems and Rotten Rhymes. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1910. ELECTION week was the grand festival of the Wykehamical year. < studding ' For three days high feast was held in the noble old hall. The ' high table ' was spread on the dais, and all old Wykehamists were welcome at it. The boys in the lower part of the hall were regaled with mutton pies and ' studding.' ... I do not think anybody ate much ' stuckling ' beyond a mouthful pro forma. It was a sort of flat pastry made of chopped apples and currants. And the speciality of it was that the apples must be that year's apples. They used to be sent up from Devonshire or Cornwall, and sometimes were with difficulty obtained. T. A. Trollope. What I Remember. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. 5. ENCHANTED YEARS O Cloister Time, beyond compare, That was to On Hills, down Meads, down River \ Uve ' When summer magic could deliver Thy soul from every care ! That was to live : And thanks we give To Winchester, the giver. M 178 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Days of May blossom and June heat, When all the ways were fragrant, How good it was to play the vagrant Over the country sweet ! When Term dies down to Domum Day, And last farewells draw nearer : Fairer grows Winchester, and dearer, To those who must away. Gather then round ! Send the old sound To the heart of every hearer. Calm glide the streams through Water Meads ; Calmly stand Hills above them. Hark to the song of those who love them ! How the old music pleads ! Come, what may come : No sweeter Home To deeper love shall move them. But limes are rich in flower, and bees Make hum, and August follows : Away we go, like Daulian swallows, Far from our towers and trees. Past the way flies, Where College lies, Alone in her ancient hollows. Back too, like birds from overseas, Birds of a common feather, Gladly we flock again together, Back to our towers and trees. College in sight ! Hills ! gently bright In the golden autumn weather THE COLLEGE JUNIOR 179 And then, each heartening winter day : When patriot zeal arouses, In College, Commoners and Houses, The spirit of the fray ! Time to begin, Ah, what glad din Beneath the wintry boughs is ! Only nine years, but nine ago ; Could dearer rank befall me ? With joy I won the right to call me A College Junior : so All those good things, Tom Warton sings, Were waiting to enthrall me. How fair the ancient city shone That best of red Septembers ! How well my haunted heart remembers That evening, nine years gone ! O faces bright With ruddy light ! O dreams beside the embers ! Lionel Johnson. ' Winchester,' in Ireland and Other Poems. Elkin Mathews, 1897. THE JUNIOR OF 6 CHAMBER HITHER ye jocund Muses haste, The college And if ye love a theme of taste Junior Begin with me in tuneful strife To sing a Junior's happy life. \ A thousand cares at times molest The sage Prepostor's thoughtful breast : i8o IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Cares of election chamber vex, And pupils every hour perplex, Tho' many a blow imprint my pate For salt or trenchers brought too late j But when we get to dear New College, Profoundly skilled in Classic Knowledge, Whether in coat of Jenimy cut Or one so spruce we boys shall strut, Yet still with pleasure shall we think on The Junior's happy life at Winton Pies, hotcakes, lozenges and snacks, Saws, hogsheads, dispars, goiners, Jacks. What tho' our Seniors rule the roast, Pray then what else have they to boast ? Like us our Seniors are but Boys, Nor aim at more exalted joys ; Like us they deal with Peggy Brunning, Like us exposed to constant dunning, Like us on home their thoughts are running, Like us impatient for a ride, Eager they wait for Whitsuntide. Think not I mean this idle strain The fiction of a thoughtless brain, In me behold the very thing, The self-same character I sing, Of no poetic club a member, But humble Junior of 6 Chamber. T. Warton. Add. MS. 29,539, fol. 196. school days HERE is the old grey tower, here the meads Through which we strolled, Unmindful of the world, its cares and creeds, In days of old. SCHOOL DAYS 181 Dost thou remember, how, on summer eves, The dying sun Peeped at us, blinking through the chequered leaves, Our freedom won ? And how we sate and talked beneath the trees As evening fell, Until there sounded, lingering on the breeze, The chapel bell j Or, arm in arm, we wandered by the brink Of that clear stream, That binds the meadows with its silver link, Lost in a dream, And spoke of subjects ranging far and wide, As boyhood may, Of love and life, and that last cricket-side, And work and play. Ah ! that was Friendship. Not this world again Can e'er renew The freshness of that bygone love \ in vain We search life through. E. H. Lacon Watson. ' School Days,' from Verses, Original and Suggested. London, Innes and Co., 1896. December 16, 1816. ... I GIVE you joy of having left Winchester. Now you may jane Austen's own how miserable you were there ; now it will gradually all humour come out, your crimes and your miseries how often you went up by the Mail to London and threw away fifty guineas at a tavern, and how often you were on the point of hanging 182 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER yourself, restrained only, as some ill-natured aspersion upon poor old Winton has it, by the want of a tree within some miles of the city. Jane Austen to her nephew on his leaving Winchester College. J. E. Austen-Leigh's Memoir of Jane Austen. Richard Bentley, 1870. At school THE wind that swept across the open down, And kissed the waving hare-bells and the grass ; The silver streams, that did in music pass Along the winding vale below the town ; The sun that lit the landscape into gold ; The singing of the wild birds, the flower perfume j The greenness, and the freshness, and the bloom, These were the friends that held my heart of old. R. C. K. Ensor. ' At School,' in Modern Poems. Brimley Johnson, 1903. Second peal Evening Chapel $6. CHAPEL CONVOCAT ad Templum tandem campana secunda, In medio recte quae quintam dividit horam. Jam Templum petitur ; reseret vigil ostia functor \ Et curae sibi sit ne clavem perdat aduncam. Nunc duo Praefecti, quibus est haec cura, sagaci Prospiciant pueros oculo, ne forte loquantur, Ne propriis careant libris, recitentve profanum, Ne sine concessa venia sit quilibet absens. Collegiata Schola Wiccamica Winioniensi, in The College of St. Mary, Winton, ed. by C. W. Wordsworth, 1848. . . . THERE sounds upon the summer night That vesper chime which legions never heard EVENING CHAPEL 183 In all their clarions ; and the scene is changed. Two candles burning in the vestibule Cast a brief halo on the storied walls : Tho' all within, the perpendicular shafts That case the viewless colours of the glass And tree of Jesse in the eastern light, Soar up in solemn darkness ; there they kneel, One family, the prefect and the fag, And pray their Heavenly Father's will be done As angels do it. Ere they pass without In single file, the muster-roll is called : But lowly now, not clamorous, as at morn. Yes ; all are there, save one, perchance a child Weary or overtasked. The Rev. W. Moore. ' Evening Hills,' in New Poems. Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner and Co., 1904. AH ! Piety, thou art not dead ! Their brief Here is the f ootf all of thy tread ; prayer Here, where yon kindling Eastern beam, In many a purple-tinted stream, Lights the long line of Wykeham's sons ; Christ flames upon their orisons j And eyes, that will, can find Him there, In trembling gleams of morning, where Breeze-shaken leaves lift quiveringly The flooding glory ! Jesse's tree Mounts up in branching royalty On those old panes, till Bethlehem flings True Day Spring on the Jewish Kings. And now the topmost spray, that grows From roots where Wykeham's life-blood flows, 184 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Is drinking from a newer sun Undying hope, fresh strength to run Life's first fleet-footed stadia. Hear, Saviour ! their brief and winged prayer ! The Rev. W. Moore. Venta and Other Poems. D. Nutt, 1882. The Jesse AT once to raise our Rev'rence and Delight, To elevate the Mind and please the Sight ; To pour in Virtue at th' attentive Eye, And waft the Soul on Wings of Ecstasie : For this the Painter's Art with Nature vies, And bids the visionary Saint arise. Who views the sacred Forms, in Thought aspires, Catches pure zeal, and as he gazes, fires, Feels the same ardour to his Breast convey'd, Is what he sees, and emulates the shade. Thy strokes, great Artist, so sublime appear, They check our Pleasure with an awful Fear, While, thro' the Mortal Line, the God you trace, Author Himself, and Heir of Jesse's Race, In Raptures we admire thy bold Design, And, as the subject, own the Hand divine. While through thy work the rising Day shall stream So long shall last thine Honour, Praise, and Name. And may thy Labours to the Muse impart Some Emanation from her Sister Art. To animate the Verse, and bid it shine In Colours easy, bright, and strong, as Thine. Supine on Earth an awful Figure lies, While softest slumbers seem to seal his Eyes, The hoary Sire Heav'n's Guardian Care demands, And at his Feet the watchful Angel stands. THE JESSE WINDOW 185 The Form august and large, the Mien Divine, Betray the Founder of Messiah's Line. Lo ! from his Loins the promis'd Stem ascends, And high to Heav'n its sacred Boughs extends : Each Limb productive of some Hero springs, And blooms Luxuriant with a Race of Kings. Th' eternal Plant wide spreads its arms around, And with the mighty BRANCH the mystick Top is crowned. And oh ! 'till Earth and Seas and Heav'n decay, Ne'er may that fair Creation fade away ; May Winds and Storms those beauteous Colours spare, Still may they bloom as permanent as fair, All the vain Rage of wasting Time repell, And his Tribunal see whose cross they paint so well. The Genealogy of Christ, as it is represented in the East Window in the College Chapel at Winchester, by a young gentleman of Winchester School, Robert Lowth, 1729. GREY tower of Wykeham ! thou whose eyes have seen Winchester A hundred generations throng thy gate, Each busy with the moulding of his fate, Have watched them come and go, and pass between The clustering Chambers and the stretch of green, And sent them out as units in the State, Each character distinct and separate, Yet all combining parts of one Machine, And priding in the School has borne its part, But thou wouldst seem to be its very soul ; Than all thou clingest closer to the heart. The Chambers see our work, the Meads our play, Yet most we love thee, who hast heard us pray. J. L. Crommelin-Brown. Poems and Parodies. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1908. 186 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER On being late ON the tower of chapel lingers for Cnapel M ^ gl()w Qf eyening And the twilight's drowsy fingers Warn us of approaching night. While outside the bats are wheeling, As in verse they always will, And the pale-rimmed moon is stealing Gradually above the Hill. Pealing anthems down the fretted Vault resound the note of praise. (For this last I am indebted To an Elegy of Gray's.) Now do Betsy, Jane, and Sally Don their latest Sunday hat, Now, along the lonely alley Prowls the melancholy cat. Now the twinkling stars incite to Wonder Dr. Watts's mind. Every crow has winged its flight to Bed and I am left behind. I suppose that as I listen To the organ's ' pealing ' note, In my eye a tear should glisten And a lump come in my throat. Then I should ' restrain the rising Sob,' and sadly turn away, As in novels, moralising On the evil of the day. NIGHT IN COLLEGE 187 Yet, 'tis strange, the organ's thunder Wakes no kindred chord in me ; And the only thing I wonder Is what length my lines will be. J. L. Crommelin-Brown. Poems and Parodies. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1908. 7. NIGHT IN COLLEGE HER towers are bright beneath the moon, Night in High fleecy clouds seem stretched upon Chamber J Court The pinnacles, or, torn and rent, Creep through the arched battlement, Lacing the grey with silver thread. The golden stars are overhead, Their eyes on murmuring Itchen, save Where bending laurels quaff the wave. Many a night serene as this, Hath poured the balm of midnight bliss On Wykeham's towers ; e'en such a night Bathed walls new-chiselled in her light, When first within yon windows dim Was heard the chant, the vesper hymn Of long-haired children, and they lay Dreaming the wonders of the day, That first bright day, when Wykeham's halls From idlesse of proud castle walls, Gathered young flowers of Albion, In Learning's newer race to run. The Rev. W. Moore. (Author of Pericula Urbis) Venta and Other Poems. D. Nutt, 1882. i88 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The Hour of AND now the hour Sounds nine since burning noon ; and as it sounds, One cherished custom more I ... These chambers now are changed to oratories As if an angel's wand had touched each floor And traced a circle round each kneeling boy, Whispering ' Here unmolested let him be j Here let him hide, a pardoned prodigal, Beneath the almighty wings.' And yet this calm, So sudden in the reckless throng, was wrought Not by an angel but a man j a man, By angel's dispensation, and now passed From earth ; yet wheresoever his converse now, Surely the record of that hour is writ When he with zeal consumed for youthful souls Called the precursors of these prefects proud Adjuring them by memorable things, By the sweet lessons of their homes ; by this Their grander home ; by this entrusted power, Lest it should ever turn into a curse \ By all they ever hoped to be ; to swear These minutes on the stroke of nine should be For ever sacred. The Rev. W. Moore. ' Evening Hills,' in New Poems. Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner and Co., 1904. A brave GEORGE RIDDING was twelve years old when he entered College [1840]. . . . His first night in College, of which he never spoke, was a sharp test of that goodness. When bedtime came, he saw that none of the other nine boys in his chamber knelt to say their prayers. He quietly knelt down, was laughed at, roughly interrupted and pelted with abuse and solid weapons, but he took no notice, and knelt on. The second night he did the IN CHAMBERS 189 same under the same difficulties ; but on the third night, when he again knelt down, the contemporary, who told this story of him, knelt down also ; and very soon his brave example was followed by most of the boys in his chamber. Five years later, when he was head of the school, the practice of kneeling by their bedsides to pray was universal among the scholars. Lady Laura Ridding. George Ridding, Schoolmaster and Bishop. Edward Arnold, 1908. So to their deep sleep Night in The weary sink j e'en students' lights are out 3 Only the tallow tapers, duly trimmed, Watch dimly o'er each hearthstone ; or a spark, A tiny spark, in some grey ember burns ; Only a moonbeam steals on letters cut In a black marble o'er an oaken bed, The blazon of its tenant long ago. Only the brook in the garden, gushing by, Lends its low music to the voices heard In many a youthful dream. O, Lady, dear To many children, e'en in garish day The stones of all thy pinnacles announce The greatness of thy lineage ; but the night, The midmost night in all thy chambers hushed, Speaks best of thee ; there is no speech nor cry, Yet voices of the past are in them all. The conscious marble tells its tale ; what eyes Beneath those oaken canopies have watched That flickering flame ; or seen the embers fade ; What ears have heard the babble of that brook. So let them sleep ; then mould them as thou wilt ; Sleep on, when from the gateways of the east IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Along the everlasting downs the breeze Blows its far trumpets o'er the wood ; sleep on, Till many a crimson sunbeam on the Tower Falling has roused it, Memnon-like, to song, Pealing the hour of five. Then let them rise, Strong for each minute of a live-long day. The Rev. W. Moore. ' Evening Hills,' in New Poems. Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner and Co., 1904. 'Juga Viridantia' 'Morning Hills' 8. ' HILLS ' AD juga sublimis viridantia mentis eundum est : Incedat sociata cohors, sociata recedat ; Atque ita donee apex mentis tangatur, eamus. Hunc humilis montem vallis quasi cingulus arctat ; Haec meta est pedibus non transilienda ; nee aude, Ne tibi sunt tremulae febres, discumbere terrae. Hie tamen ejecto discas bene ludere disco, Seu pila delectat palmaria, sive per auras Saepe repercusso pila te juvat icto bacillo, Seu pedibus calcata tuis, his lusibus uti Innocuis fas est ; ... Collegiata Schola Wiccamica Winioniensi. ST. CATHERINE'S HILL is a notably isolated down in the immediate neighbourhood of Winchester, and just above the charming little village of St. Cross. There is a clump of firs on the top, and the unusually well-marked circumvallation of a Roman (or British ?) camp around the circle of the hill. The ditch of this circumvallation formed our ' bounds.' The straying beyond them, however, in the direction of the open downs away from the city, and from St. Cross, was deemed a very venial offence by either the prefect of hall or the masters. But not so in the 'HILLS' 191 direction of the town. It was the duty of the three ' juniors ' in college one of whom I was during my first half-year to ' call domum.' . . . All year round we went to ' morning hills ' before breakfast, and to afternoon hills about three. In the summer we went, . . . every evening after ' hall/ but not to the top of the hill, only to the water-meads at the foot of it, the object being to bathe in the Itchen. T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 107. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. WINCHESTER COLLEGE HALL, 6.30 P.M. O THE strange eve of June, so long ago : 'Evening Its ardour, cause of toil and transient joy, Burns in the heart for ever ; As it burnt In bars of brilliance then, through casement oped High as the raftered roof, and smote below The table's snowy cloth or wooden ware ; Or lit a battered pewter or a head Flaxen or auburn in the gown-boy's throng Or e'en some brazen button on the coat Of one who stood and served them. Then a voice Above all cries of the refectory Has shouted ' Hills ' ; strange word, not void of fear To those who wot not all that it might be. The grace is said ; and pell-mell down the stairs The seventy children of great Wykeham rush To don the beaver and be prompt to take Their places on the destined pilgrimage ; Lest laggard feel the throng-compelling wand. And now with shout and jeer i n chamber And jest the column of the Commoners comes ; Court IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The Warden's Garden Water- meadows St. Catherine's And giants lead those lines { or so they seemed To those three artless infants of the gown As now, the order of the onset given, All move through the quadrangle. Verily Pilgrims a moment that procession seems Then, when all cries are hushed, and bared all heads, Where Mary, from her sculptured canopy Above the inner gate, for ever smiles, As if to win them to some gentleness. But that is passed, and the utmost gateway passed : And then, the holy precincts left behind, The inextinguishable merriment Of boyhood with felt manhood in the blood Lets itself loose and runs its racy course. . . . Fitfully The ashen wand leaps out to dress the line j Yet all the paven way with laughter rings, The bully's sally and the victim's cry Unnoticed. But, hard by, the flanking wall Of that long causeway harbours wondrous peace, In glooms of clustered verdure, close-shorn lawns Where sunlight sleeps ; and through the garden sealed Itchen, low murmuring on his silver bed, Enhances more the cloistral calm. But now Those walls are passed ; and from the broad green dale Sparkling with summer on its limpid streams, Breezes of evening greet them airily Fanning the sultriness ; and far away, High o'er a quarry gleaming on a hill, A clump of pine-trees crowns a trenched slope Once sable sentinels of Catherine's shrine. What thousand eyes in far-off centuries TEMPE 193 Have looked uplifted to that hill 5 what feet Have scaled that holy height : and e'en to us Its base is goal this eve ; no pilgrims, we ; And yet we tread where such have trod. . . . Higher and narrower wended now the path j Sheer on the right the vale hight Tempe yawned ; 'Tempe' Leafy and cool and sweet-perfumed we knew That vale in Thessaly ; and leafy this ; But not so sweet, we found, as falling there We lay midst shreds and carrions of the ditch. For one of those said giants, patience lost At the slow progress of the hated van, Quick to the Moloch of his wrath had hurled Two infants down the precipice : who thence Clomb and emerged on upper air to find The path now clear of all save him who wields That ashen indiscriminating wand. But Wykeham's serge is kindly strong to meet His castigating rods and childhood's tears Are April showers. So when at last, beyond Expanse of corn green-waving and two stiles, The lines disband, those rough derisive words And e'en that sudden shock are half forgot ; And lo, like Lethe at their feet, the stream itchen Seems lending all its lucid deeps to heal All sorrow ; though its tasselled banners wave O'er shallower reaches of the gleaming bed Than here might aid the swimmer's art. . . . . . . 'Twere sweet After the fourteen hours of toil and stress To sink one moment on the holy sod Where the slight milkwort droops at close of day ; N 194 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER To look afar on those grey pinnacles So peaceful now above their silent courts, Backed by the solemn spireless minster mass. But hark ! the tumult of the bath begins : The keys are creaking in the lock to ope The sluice : and cataracts thunder in the void See ! a lithe form already stripped has flashed O'er the huge beam that guards the water-gate ; And straight as arrow to the targe has plunged Into the depth unseen. . . . Doamm 'Tis come, the hour, The clamorous hour, when all return to ranks. Down glassy vistas of the lower stream, Into the ravine of the eternal down, Far up the mystic slope, it reaches, where, In cool and chalky cavern, Arethuse, From Dorian founts sweet emissary, sits, And listening smiles to the ageless evening star Reflected on her ageless pool, to think Her Dorian boys in Enna long ago Ne'er shouted so ; nor e'er did Sparta build A home like that now summoned to. Again ' Home ' rings down some close pathway of the vale, Where, maybe, two are walking and are sad, Conscious this home is little longer theirs, Yon walls, these sparkling greeneries. And now The wand brings order from the jostling crowd, There, on that tell-tale oyster-paven spot : Again the hated gown-boys in the van, Again in flowing serge decorous each ; Again the laic column on the rear, The self-same giants leading ; and again That vale of Tempe : but no mishap now ; BATHING IN ITCHEN 195 Again those garden walls where peaceably Men dwell, and lowlier the shrouded brook Murmurs, and ghostlier the twilit forms Of verdure haunt the alleys ; and again That still quadrangle and the form benign ; And those seven chambers where the weary sleep ; Or soon shall sleep, when hunger unappeased No more shall need their ministries. . . . The Rev. W. Moore. ' Evening Hills,' in New Poems. Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner and Co., Limited, 1904. 9. BATHING IN ITCHEN . . . WE panted, until evening released us to wander forth Bathing and along the water-meadows by Itchen and bathe, and, having Poachin bathed, to lie naked amid the mints and grasses for a while before returning in the twilight. This bathing went on, not in one or two great crowds, but in groups, and often in pairs only, scattered along the river-bank almost all the way to Hills ; it being our custom again at Winchester (and I believe it still continues) to socius or walk with one companion ; and only at one or two favoured pools would several of these couples meet together for the sport. On the evening of which I am about to tell, my companion was a boy named Fiennes, of about my own age, and we bathed alone, though not far away to right and left the bank teemed with outcries and laughter and naked boys running all silvery as their voices in the dusk. With all this uproar the trout of Itchen, as you may suppose, had gone into hiding ; but doubtless some fine fellows lay snug under the stones, and the stream running shallow after the heats as we stretched ourselves on the grass Fiennes challenged me to tickle for one ; it may be because he had heard me boast 196 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER of my angling feats at home. There seemed a likely pool under the farther bank ; convenient, except that to take up the best position beside it I must get the level sun full in my face. I crept across, however, Fiennes keeping silence, laid myself flat on my belly, and peered down into the pool, shading my eyes with one hand. For a long while I saw no fish, until the sun rays, striking aslant, touched the edge of a golden fin very prettily bestowed in a hole of the bank, and well within an overlap of green weed. Now and again the fin quivered, but for the most part my gentleman lay quiet as a stone, head to stream, and waited for relief from these noisy Wykehamists. Experience, perhaps, had taught him to despise them j at any rate, when gently very gently I lowered my hand and began to tickle, he showed neither alarm nor resentment. ' Is it a trout ? ' demanded Fiennes in an excited whisper from the farther shore. But of course I made no answer, and presently I supposed that he must have crept off to his clothes, for some way up the stream I heard the Second Master's voice warning the bathers to dress and return, and with his usual formula, Ite domum saturce, venit Hesperus, ite capettcs! Being short-sighted, he missed to spy me, and I felt, rather than saw or heard, him pass on ; for with one hand I yet shaded my eyes while with the other I tickled. Yet another two minutes went by, and then with a jerk I had my trout, my thumb and forefinger deep under his gills ; brought down my other clutch upon him and, lifting, flung him back over me among the meadow grass, my posture being such that I could neither hold him struggling nor recover my own balance save by rolling sideways over on my shoulder-pin ; which I did, and, running to him where he gleamed and doubled, flipping the grasses, caught him in both hands and held him aloft. A. T. Quiller Couch ('Q.'). Sir John Constantino. Smith, Elder and Co., 1906. 'MILKHOLE' AND 'POT' 197 LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF BlNGHAM, DROWNED AT WINCHESTER [IN POT OR FIRST LOCK] HAPLESS flow'r ! by fate prevented, Drowned in Tho' to blossom scarce begun, ' Pot> Early is thy urn lamented, For full soon thy course is run. Water nymphs with flow'rets strew him, And your coral wreaths present, Itchen, for 'twas thou that slew him, Itchen, o'er his tomb lament. Lately we beheld him leading Wykeham's sons o'er yonder plain, Now another youth succeeding Leads the gay unthinking train. Each of us perhaps to-morrow Like our friend may meet our doom, Freely then indulge your sorrow O'er his much-lamented tomb. By ' Huddesford ' or ' Hill.' Add. MS. 29,539, fol. 2. [Huddesford was Fellow of New College, editor of Salmagundi.] WALKING along the canal from Twyford not long ago I came 'Miikhoie' to what in former days was known as a ' milkhole ' and ' pot,' and and I was irresistibly reminded of a scene I witnessed there when I was a College Junior ever so many years ago. ' Pot ' is very different now from what it was in those days. The canal and the locks were then in working order, and ' pot ' was our chief and favourite bathing-place, and when the lower gates were shut and the lock was Ming fast with clear green water, twisting and twirling and bubbling, you might go a long way before you would beat that glorious header into the middle of it. 198 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER I think it must have been at evening Hills that the episode I refer to occurred. A number of us were collected there, those who were good enough swimmers taking headers into ' pot ' itself, others bathing in the shallow at the tail of ' milkhole,' and some on the bank looking on. . . . All of a sudden there was a commotion and a cry from the group of boys in the water below ' milkhole,' and it appeared that one of them had somehow got into deep water and was being carried under by the back rush. A dangerous place it was for those who could not swim, as there was a strong undertow setting towards the gates and nothing there to stand upon or hold on by. ... Fortunately, however, the catastrophe had been made known to the aristocrats who were bathing in ' pot ' just above, and one of them ran down, and without a moment's hesitation plunged into ' milkhole ' and swam across, just as the undertow had carried the drowning boy up to the gate. Even when he grasped the boy it was no easy matter to get him up to the surface and back to the bank, for there was no purchase on those slippery gates. But he managed it at last our hero as we knew he would. . . . Look up at the Crimean Memorial as you enter chapel, and there . . . you will see the name of Lieut. Fred G. Barker, who was killed at the battle of Inkerman, Nov. 5th, 1854, aged 21 years. He was the hero of my tale. Qttalis ab incepto. The Wykehamist, February 1894. The Junior's ... ON to the brink ! Scan the vast cistern, measure all its side Boiling and frothing with the weedy wave. There thou must plunge, and with a bound like that, E'en ere it brims the pathway. So : 'tis done : And on the wave which swarms with swimmers now D O M U M 199 Thou risest corklike from the gurgling gulf : But ere thou take thy pastime with the rest Some strong unpriestly hand is on thy head, And trine immersion by the unaltering rite Is, as for all before thee, thine. Ah ! well : 'Twas purgatorial, yet 'twas saving too, This baptism : the body's generous glow Is somehow mantling o'er the mind ; and fresh As in the slumbering chambers rang at morn The slave-boy's cry, the same shall be this eve To call the loiterers home. The Rev. W. Moore. ' Evening Hills,' in New Poems. Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner and Co., 1904. 10. DOMUM IT chanced some twelve-score years ago A ' Domum J In Wykeham's ancient School, Le * end The genial summer brought relief From the stem Master's rule. The scholars doffed their bands and gowns, Closed every classic tome, And donned their gomers, as they termed The garments of their home. And all were joyful, all save one, That morn condemned to wait The life-long holidays alone Within the College Gate. A ring with precious diamonds set Was missing, woe betide ! Stol'n from a chamber free to him But closed to all beside. 200 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER He marked his comrades' look askance, He heard their parting glee ; Would none believe his innocence Or hear his heartfelt plea ? Then on him closed the prison door, Where 'twas his doom to stay j He might not see his sweet, sweet home, But he could think and say Domum, domum, etc. There on the cold grey stone he lay Beneath the Cloister's shade, And on the mouldering walls around That plaintive music played. And from a nest perched high o'erhead There fell the long-lost ring, And soft birds' voices piped these notes His requiem to sing Domum, domum, etc. The Wykehamist, February 1893. ' OoncinamuB, CONCINAMUS, O sodales ! Onodales!' _,. , ., .. , Eja ! quid silemus ? Nobile canticum Dulce melos, Domum Dulce Domum, resonemus. Domum, Domum, Dulce Domum, Domum, Domum, Dulce Domum, Dulce, Dulce, Dulce Domum, Dulce Domum resonemus. Appropinquat ecce felix ! Hora gaudionun ; CONCINAMUS 201 Post grave tedium Advenit omnium Meta petita laborum. Musa, libros mitte, fessa ; Mitte pensa dura, Mitte negotium, Jam datur otium, Me mea mittito cura. Ridet annus, prata rident ; Nosque rideamus : Jam repetit domum Daulias advena ; Nosque domum repetamus. Heus ! Rogere, fer caballos * Eja, mine eamusj Limen amabile, Matris et oscula Suaviter et repetamus. Concinamus ad Penates, Vox et audiatur Phosphore ! quid jubar, Segnius emicans, Gaudia nostra moratur ? [COMRADES, join our tuneful measure ; Wherefore should we silent be ? Noblest theme ! and dearest treasure, Home sweet home, we '11 sing of thee. Home sweet home, we '11 sing of thee ; Home sweet home, our theme shall be Home sweet home, rare melody ; Home sweet home, rare melody. 202 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Wing&d hours onward stealing, Waft us fleetly towards the goal ; Toil is o'er, and rapturous feeling Wakens in the weary soul. Muse of learning, gently smiling, Lay aside thy musty tomes ; Listen to our lay's beguiling, Banish care from happy homes. Nature radiant is all laughing ; Homewards Philomel doth speed ; We our fill of joy are quaffing, Home our guerdon, home our meed. Roger, quick 1 for time is pressing, Lead the horses to the door j Home, a mother's fond caressing Waits us, we can stay no more. All the live-long night till morning Carol forth our roundelay ; Phoebus ! why so slow in dawning ? Joy like ours brooks no delay.] An English version of Domum, by ' Orpheus.' The Wykehamist, April 1869. Ad Moot O PARS magna mei, quot intus olim Et curae et mihi gaudio fuistis, Ut patri suboles amans amanti, (Prosit vos subolem vocasse amantem !) Si quondam tolerastis imperantem, Nunc concurrite nomina invocanti. AD MEOS 203 Si Domus procul urget exsulantes Vos desiderium, mei quod instar ? Quot olim mihi congregatus ordo Illic discipulos tulit magistro ! Ignotus repeto domum, nee ullus Interesse sua putat scholaris Qualis umbra vager prioris aevi. Prolem Wiccamicam tamen saluto Donatus rade jam senex, sodales Nunc, qui discipuli fuistis olim. Quingentesimus annus ecce ! felix Est natalium et hora gaudiorum : Hue adeste, Domum, quot estis, omnes, Domum, nobile canticum, sonemus. Jam negotia Musa mittat omnis : Et Musis datur otium : remittant Cum Musis pueri senusque curas. Cum ridentibus annus ecce ! pratis Ridet : advena Daulias profugit Domum : nos quoque jam domum petamus. Nos amabile limen osculisque Mater excipiet Domum ; Rogerus Quanquam nullus adest ferens caballos, At nos ocius eia ! nunc eamus. Una voce canamus ad Penates Dulcem Wiccamicamque cantilenam. Sic, cum finis erit nee emicabit Segnis Phosphorus et domum reducet, Turn, nee post grave taedium moranti, Cuique meta petita sit laborum : Domum, dulce melos, canant sodales. George Southwell. The Wykehamist, July 1893. 204 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER WHITSUNTIDE Written at Winchester College on the immediate approach of the Holidays ' The strain HENCE, thou fur-clad Winter, fly ! liberty* 1 " 1 - Sire of shivering Poverty ! Who, as thou creep'st with chilblains lame To the crowded charcoal flame, With chattering teeth and ague cold, Scarce thy shaking sides canst hold While thou draw'st the deep cough out : God of Football's noisy rout, Tumult loud and boist'rous play, The dangerous slide, the snow-ball fray. But come, thou genial Son of Spring, Whitsuntide ! and with thee bring Cricket, nimble boy and light, In slippers red and drawers white, Who o'er the nicely-measur'd land Ranges around his comely band, Alert to intercept each blow, Each motion of the wary foe. Or patient take thy quiet stand, The angle trembling in thy hand, And mark, with penetrative eye, Kissing the wave the frequent fly, Where the trout, with eager spring, Forms the many-circled ring, And, leaping from the silver tide, Turns to the sun his speckled side. DOMUM NIGHT 205 Or lead where Health, a naiad fair, With rosy cheek and dripping hair, From the sultry noon-tide beam, Laves in Itchin's crystal-stream. Thy votaries, rang'd in order due, To-morrow's wish'd-for dawn shall view, Greeting the radiant star of light With Matin Hymn and early rite : E'en now, these hallow'd haunts among, To thee we raise the Choral Song ; And swell with echoing minstrelsy The strain of joy and liberty. If pleasures such as these await Thy genial reign, with heart elate For thee I throw my gown aside And hail thy coming, Whitsuntide. [A poem by ' the late Thomas Warton, junior/ among those in Salmagundi, edited by George Huddesford, 1801.] WE have laughed in the sun, we have struggled and won, Domum Night We have lived through a glorious year ; We have known at the last of the worth of the past When the days of our passing were near ; We have learned to be leaders and losers, And tried as they taught us to try, And we gather to-night in despair and delight For the song that must be a good-bye. We have treasured each day as it flitted away, We have lingered our last on the hill, But we '11 roll our refrain through the valley again, For to-night we are treasuring still ; 206 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Though we part with a sigh and a sadness From the friends of our happiest years, We may surely forget to look back with regret With the happiest song in our ears. We have homes that are dear, but the home which is here Is the mother of all we are worth, And the honour we know from the world we shall owe To the place which has given us birth ; In the suns of an Indian summer, When we work for an emperor's needs, We shall think of the school which has taught us to rule, And the midsummer magic of Meads. Oh, the minutes are short in the echoing Court, But this night shall remain with you long. You shall feel us about in the hour of your doubt, Joining hands in the shadowy throng ; And far off in the misty hereafter, More sweet than the music of Fame, Shall ring in your ears the wonderful cheers Of the friends who would honour your name. Though a tenderer race will be chiefs in our place And grow great in the popular eye, Though the names we have made will so easily fade By the names of another July, Yet the hearts of the men who have made us Will bear us a record of truth, And remember us still for the good or the ill That we worked with the riches of youth. A. The Wykehamist, August 1911. DOMUM REPETAMUS 207 AT Winchester, which we boys (though we fared hardly) never Honouring doubted to be the first school in the world, as it was the most 8 f *** B ? ary of winton ancient in England, we had a song we called Domum : and because our common pride in her as the best pride will belittled itself in speech, I trust that our song honoured Saint Mary of Winton the more in that it celebrated only the joys of leaving her. The tale went, it had been composed (in Latin too) by a boy detained at school for punishment during the summer holidays. Another fable improved on this by chaining him to a tree. A third imprisoned him in cloisters whence, through the arcades and from the ossuaries of dead fellows and scholars, he poured out his soul to the swallows haunting the green garth : 'Jam repetit domum Daulias advena, Nosque domum repetamus.' Whatever its origin, our custom was to sing it as the holidays especially the summer holidays drew near, and to repeat it as they drew nearer, until every voice was hoarse. As I remember, we kept up this custom with no decrease of fervour through the heats of June 1756, though they were such that our hostiarius Dr. Warton, then a new broom, swept us out of school, and for a fortnight heard our books (as the old practice had been) in cloisters, where we sat upon cool stone and in the cool airs, and between our tasks watched the swallows at play. A. T. Quiller Couch ('Q.'). Sit John Constantine. Smith, Elder and Co., 1906. ON RETURNING HOME FROM WINCHESTER, 1761 IN vain, O native fields, ye strive to please, Reminis- In vain to joy your various scenes invite : or can ye give my soul its wonted ease ; Nor can ye give my Fair-one to my sight ! In vain to joy your various scenes invite : cences of & Domum Ball Nor can ye give my soul its wonted ease j 208 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Joy is not here : fly, sweet Remembrance, fly, Fly where I revell'd late in Pleasure's train ; Recall the fleeting form to Fancy's eye ; And live o'er all the blissful hours again. Mine was the lot, from ev'ry youth to bear The prize how envy'd, how desir'd by all ! Mine was the lot, where hundred nymphs were fair, To lead the fairest through the mazy Ball. William Lipscomb. TO hear THE visitor should come in July and hear the Dulce Domum sun &' and witness that most characteristic gathering of Wykehamists, old and young, proud of their royal school, the most ancient of any in these dominions, and one which has contributed at the very least its proportion of worthies in Church and State. M. E. C. Walcott. Memorials of Winchester, 1866. ii. GAMES Winchester u. IT was a competition between the schools of Eton and Winchester ; and the earnestness and life that beamed from every countenance were most beautiful to witness : about the wide field you saw not, as usually, the straggling idle visitor, or the money-seeking gamester, but fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, were there, in numerous and cheerful parties, bringing with them all the hopes and fears of family and personal affection. . . . Charles Townsend. Winchester, etc., 1842. A win for THE match was over, and we had won ! Winchester had won ! Winchester United Winchester made a combined rush for the hero of the \ ETON MATCH 209 day, and bore him struggling to the pavilion ; thence, still unsatisfied, to College. There were thoughts of carrying him round the town. Grey-bearded men waved their hats and cheered with the rest. It was a mad spectacle. There were feasts in College that night, and for many suc- ceeding nights. For, among the crowd of old Wykehamists who pressed forward to shake hands with the pioneer of victory [Christopher Deane], more than one had left behind a five pound note. A stream of liberality flowed that day. Some even fell upon myself. For days afterwards College Street reaped a golden harvest. Those were great times. E. H. Lacon Watson. Christopher Deane. John Murray. WHITE on the ground the hoar frost lies, sizes And white are the bare-branched trees \ The sun shines clear from the blue hazed skies Through fleeting mists that freeze. Above, the grey old chapel tower, Below, the red and brown ; A breathless hush, then strikes the hour, And the heads of the ' hot ' go down. The long low kick that cheers the soul, The ' own side ' followed through, The clearing ' bust ' which saves a goal, The ' flyer ' clean and true. The man who checks a headlong rush, The cheers that shout his name ; A plant, a dash, a moment's hush, Then the goal that wins the game, o 210 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Go where the sward lies green below, And the well-oiled willow clicks ; Go where the eight-oared racers row, But leave me to watch a six. Between the branches' fretworked grace, The chapel's grey background, Clear-cut against the blue of space, The ' canvas ' face-ringed round. When through the mist of forty years, We sadly look behind, This is the scene which first appears, Deep-printed in our mind. B c L The Wykehamist, November 29, 1905. A Health to HERE 's a health to Our Game, the best game upon earth, Houses six ! ^^ a k ea jth to the men who acknowledge its worth ; Here 's a health, too, to Houses, the pick of the three The best home of the brave, the best nurse of the free. Chorus The Romans have said, ' Stet Fortuna Domus ' ; ' Stet Fortuna Domorum 's ' the motto for us ; ' Stet Fortuna Domorum ' for ever and aye, For we '11 conquer again, as we conquered to-day. Here 's a health to Our Captain, who hots them all down ; To that King of Footballers, the King of the Brown ; To the jolly brown leather he steers through the hot ; To each sally and rally and difficult shot. Chorus Hoist him up on your shoulders, and bear him along, And shout out, till you 're hoarse, this victorious song, HOUSES SIX 211 ' Stet Fortuna Domorum/ for ever and aye, For we '11 conquer again, as we conquered to-day. Here 's a health to Our Ups, who are trusty and true, Who can bear down the Red and can bear down the Blue, Who can speed like the hare, and kick like well the rest, For each one is so good you could ne'er tell the best. Chorus Hoist them up on, etc. Here 's a health to Our Hotwatch, who kicks it so clean, And a health to the Commoners he gets it between, To the sprint that he makes to the end of the ground, To the goal that he gets, the wide cheers that resound. Chorus Hoist him up, etc. Here 's a health to Our Kicks who are stalwart and strong, To each ' flier ' and ' bust ' they send spinning along, To the rush that they face, to the charge that they stop, To their lusty ' six-posters,' that quiver and drop. Chorus Hoist them up, etc. Here 's a health to all Wykehamists Blue, Red or Brown. May they ne'er meet in life one who can hot them down ! For they '11 rally round Canvas as oft as they may, And still love the old school, with its work and its play. Chorus Hoist them up, etc. R. W. Seton Watson. Scotland for Ever, etc. Edinburgh, David Douglas, 1898. 212 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER SONGS WITHOUT SINGERS Fifteens ONLY a day in dreary November, Sixty quick minutes of feverish play ; This is the day for a man to remember, Treasured within him for ever and aye. Out with it, on with it, you are the chosen ones ; Shove it along, then, and pity the frozen ones ; Doing and daring for what you are wearing, Are you not happy, my brothers, to-day ? You that have lost your reward at the latest, Though you have striven as stoutly as they, You shall be numbered next year with the greatest, Nobly triumphant or bravely at bay ; Only to see how they bustle and worry 'em, Only to shout as they hustle and hurry 'em ! Out and away with it, look how they stay with it Are you not happy, my brothers, to-day ? They that must gaze on your rocketing fliers, Tasting the past in the feel of the fray, Love you for losers and cheer you for triers, Smile in your triumphs, and share your dismay. What would they give to be out in the thick of it, Just for a moment, to show you the trick of it, Just to be boys again, hear the old noise again What would they give to be with you to-day ! So may we run in the field of to-morrow, Steady and straight in the Winchester way, Losing but laughing, and sad without sorrow. Eager at learning and quick to obey 1 FIFTEENS 213 Here 's to the game which our fathers have made for us, Here 's to the men who have panted and played for us, Hardy as Britons, and gentle as kittens Yes, we are all of us happy to-day ! A. The Wykehamist, November 1911. WHAT do you see, Walt Whitman ? Wait I see a mass of arms clad in brown and white and blue and white jerseys, Fifteens Of legs clad in cut-shorts that once were white, Arms that straggle, and legs that kick convulsively, that is what I see ; And I see hands that grasp the empty air, Or if not the air then their next-door neighbour, Or if not their neighbour then the netting which pens the players in; And there are two watchers with note-books and pencils, Note-books to write in, and pencils to rap the grasping hands, (There is mud on the hands, and their knuckles are white with the tension of grasping), The play of the muscles, the curve of the back stooping to push, Faces glistening with sweat, sinews in the neck taut with the effort of extrication, that is what I see. I see a ring of eager faces ; Mouths that open, and anxious eyes. And ever the grey tower above showing through the trees, (The trees stripped of their foliage, and the tower shows through their tracery), Slender, silent tower. J. L. Crommelin-Brown. Poems and Parodies. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1908. The sprite of Winton football 214 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER 'TWAS New Year's Eve : on Chapel Tower The sprite of Winton football sat, And filled with tears, a copious shower, His hat. He gazed across deserted Meads : ' They ne'er will take me back again : Ne'er will they see such mighty deeds, Such pain. Good-bye, dear Canvas, never dry : Your ancient game rejected squirms : Good-bye, dear ropes, dear posts, good-bye, Dear worms. It is the first stage to my death : I will begone : I am no more, Soccer in Short ! ' beneath his breath He swore. A. P. Herbert. Poor Poems and Rotten Rhymes. P. and G. Wells, 1910. Pruff Ridding ' His pluck and extraordinary disregard of pain made him a formidable football player ' a marvellous up in canvass, with a splendid alertness, courage, and skill in the game.' Once as a ' Hotter ' he received a kick upon his head, audible to all around. He heard it, and went on playing with a chuckle : ' Junket over that fellow.' Lady Laura Ridding. George Ridding, Schoolmaster and Bishop. Edward Arnold, 1908. THE BATTLE OF LIFE 215 12. FAGGING AND FLOGGING . . . QUICK, ye slaves, To the 'Fag' On with the pots ; and let them all be hot Amidst the red tongues flickering in the gloom ; Out with the tables, let your master sup. For crumbs and bones and home-brew of the Hall 111 stay the stomach of a hero who Into that bubbling caldron 'neath the hills Seven headers took ; whose volleys in the mead Ye have been hunting half the day. O speed Your perilous task for him whose lightest wish Is iron law. Kings, truly, must respect Their pages' hour of rest ; 'tis written too, The passing sadness of a cupbearer Once moved the Persian despot but these ten, These kings uncrowned who sup beneath the moon In restful glory, conscious of the state, And deeds that served it, have no villeins' wrongs To deal with nor relentings of their own. All that they do is right * the subject learns To obey, and other lessons when he may. Still from those lordly tables there are crumbs j And dogs may eat them. The Rev. W. Moore. ' Evening Hills ' in New Poems. Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner and Co., Limited, 1904. I PASS under the college archway and courts grey with time, green with new foliage, and see, with a natural sigh, the fine lads strolling careless in cap and gown. But, surely, regrets for the past, if natural, are vain if vain, not to be dwelt on ; if dwelt on, foolish. Are these boys all happy, too ? Many a ' fag ' (the fagging is severe, and often cruel) is longing for manhood and freedom. Even in play hours he must submit to the will and caprice of an oldster. ' Good for him on the whole prepares him for the battle of life.' Perhaps so ; but 216 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER perhaps (along with ' cram,' chapel, and other things) it prepares him to make life a battle a scene of fierce, unscrupulous rivalry, instead of peaceful effort and mutual help. Life brings its combats, its battles, to be well fought out when each crisis comes ' but it ought not to be a battle. The laws of war are not the laws of life. The book-shop outside the gate is full of college boys ; at the next-door pastry cook's the younger ones swarm like bees. Up those steps, the dining-hall still sets its tables with the old- world square wooden trencher, but also nowadays with knife and fork ; and tea flows morn and even, where beer in their fathers' time was the only lawful liquor. A famous novelist of our day (who deals much in cathedrals x ) said to me, ' We had no tea or coffee ' he was a Wykehamist, ' but beer, as much as you liked beer at breakfast, beer at dinner, beer at supper, beer under your bed.' Beer sounds barbarous for boys ; but clean home-brewed is a different thing from the tavern-keeper's mixtures. Our novelist is a burly man, and so was Cobbett, who detested ' slops.' Some of the big lads are at cricket, and with a will. Terribly swift the athletic bowler swings in his heavy ball overhand ; his well-greaved opponent sends it whizzing off the bat. The sport is now made a serious business. ... To many, perhaps to most of our boys, cricket and boat-racing are the serious parts of school life. William Allingham. Varieties in Prose. Longmans, Green and Co., 1893. Fagging' ON looking back to my career at Winchester I have always defended acknowledged the immense advantage of a public-school education. The school discipline of fagging was to a young and rather sensitive boy very severe, but it was just that which was wanting to brace one up to face the realities of life ; and in spite of some cruelty amongst the head boys, and of the dis- 1 Probably Anthony Trollope. GROUND ASH 217 advantage of their not being all treated by the headmaster on the principle of honour, the tone of the school as a whole was that of highly honourable young lads. There might have been something better if there had been more confidence, and some- thing higher in the best sense. The religious element, indeed, which happily is now more highly developed in almost all schools, was perhaps more than commonly kept back by the want of confidence between the master and the boys. Still it will always be to the credit of Winchester that Arnold was brought up there, and that (at a later period than that which I am now discussing) he sent his sons thither. W. R. W. Stephens. Memoir of Lord Hatherley. R. Bentley and Son, 1883. ' Dorsum, qui meruit, ferat I ' OLD friend, I greet thee with a hearty shake,. Ode to a And lay once more in mine thy knotty palm, around Ash Whose silent pressure e'en to tears could wake The stricken soul, or raise a bruised arm. Thou tyrant-guardian of my early days I give thee greeting now and well-earned praise ! Time was I feared thy gaunt and supple form, The anger of thy ashen countenance, Thy presence fled, as from impending storm, And quailed before thy stern unpleasing glance, That, like some hawk when some poor victim stoops, Poises then on with shrieking fury swoops. They say thou still dost sing the same old song, And sleep upon the same old oaken bed ; But thou, who ofttimes for some fancied wrong, Didst cut me li ving, now hast cut me dead Though strangers now, these hands shall raise a mound, And plant thine ashes in their native ground. A. J. in The Wykehamist, February 1894. 218 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Flogging at Winchester I FEEL convinced in my mind that I have been flogged oftener than any human being alive. It was just possible to obtain five scourgings in one day at Winchester, and I have often boasted that I obtained them all. Looking back over half a century, I am not quite sure whether the boast is true j but if I did not, nobody ever did. Anthony Trollope. An Autobiography, 1815-82. William Blackwood and Son, Edinburgh and London, 1883. ' A mere form' THE real and unanswerable objection to the infliction of ' corporal punishment,' as it was used in my day at Winchester, was that it was a mere form and farce. It caused neither pain nor disgrace, and assuredly morally degraded nobody. I have been scourged five times in the day j not because, as might be supposed, I was so incorrigible that the master found it necessary to go on scourging me, but simply because it so chanced. . . . But this was a rare tour de force, scarcely likely to occur again. I was rather proud of it, and wholly unconscious of any ' moral degradation.' T. A. Trollope. What I Remember t i. 117. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. ' Vener is lux sanguino- lenta' PROH ! dolor, heu ! Veneris lux sanguinolenta propinquat ; Sanguineamque voco, nam si peccaveris hujus Hebdomadae spatio, poenas patiere cruentas : Flecte genu, puerique duo, qui rite vocantur, Dimittent ligulas, manibusque ligamina solvent. Collegiata Schola Wiccamica Wintoniensi, from The College of St. Mary, Winton, ed. by C. W. (C. Wordsworth). ' Birch in thine aveng- ing hand ' THREE times running shirked he sheerly Morning lines and Chapel too, Though he 'd been instructed clearly That such conduct wouldn't do. MORNING LINES 219 Then outspake his ' patient pastor,' ' Order thy proud name, Sir Childe ; Thou shalt go to the Head Master ' ; Naturally getting ' riled.' Shent with shame, in speechless sorrow, Sad he sought the door of school, Pausing there in hope to borrow Courage, and his brow to cool. Green with fright as six ' green bakers,' At the door the victim stands, All his courage, like Bob Acres', Oozing from his clammy hands. O Magister Informator ! Flesh of man may not withstand Either envious stroke of Fate, or Birch in thine avenging hand. Oh ! unmentionable beginning, Oh ! the kneeling on the floor, Oh ! sarcastic Prefect grinning, Oh ! but I can tell no more. But, young reader, whosoever Drop'st salt water on these whines, By thy head, and tail, oh ! never, Never, shirk thy morning lines ! E. G. B. The Wykehamist, February 1874. 220 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER 13. NOCTES SHAKSPERIANAE PROLOGUE ON THE OLD WINCHESTER PLAYHOUSE OVER THE BUTCHERS' SHAMBLES Prologue to WHOE'ER our stage examines, must excuse ' Monimia' ^ e wondrous shifts of the dramatic Muse ; Then kindly listen, while the prologue rambles From wit to beef, from Shakespeare to the shambles ! Divided only by one flight of stairs The monarch swaggers, and the butcher swears ! Quick the transition when the curtain drops, From meek Monimia's moans to mutton chops ! While for Lothario's loss Lavinia cries, Old women scold, and dealers d n your eyes ! Here Juliet listens to the gentle lark, There in harsh chorus hungry bull-dogs bark. Cleavers and scymitars give blow for blow, And heroes bleed above, and sheep below ! While tragic thunders shake the pit and box, Rebellows to the roar the staggering ox. Cow-horns and trumpets mix their martial tones, Kidneys and Kings, mouthing and marrow bones. Suet and sighs, blank verse and blood abound, And form a tragi-comedy around. With weeping lovers, dying calves complain, Confusion reigns chaos is come again ! Hither your steelyards, butchers, bring to weigh The pound of flesh, Antonio's bond must pay ! Hither your knives, ye Christians, clad in blue, Bring to be whetted by the ruthless Jew ! Hard is our lot, who, seldom doom'd to eat, Cast a sheep's-eye on this forbidden meat Gaze on sirloins, which, ah ! we cannot carve, And in the midst of legs of mutton starve ! PLAYS AND PROLOGUES 221 But would you to our house in crowds repair, Ye gen'rous captains and ye blooming fair, The fate of Tantalus we should not fear, Nor pine for a repast that is so near. Thomas Warton. PROLOGUE TO ' VENICE PRESERVED ' As some clean housewife's hospitable care Serves to her guest good wholesome country fare, Such as her own domestic stores afford, With willing hand she spreads the homely board, Where neatness and simplicity impart A taste unknown to luxury and art : Such is our aim to-night ; by means like these, 'Tis our ambition's humble care to please. To pomp and shew we make no vain pretence, We feast you here, with nature, and with sense : With Otway's scenes, with early genius blest, Here first the muse the tender bard possess'd ; And here, where first the pow'rful impulse came, He learnt to guide the heav'n-descended flame : Yet easy still, nor o'er-refined by art, He speaks the native language of the heart. Attend ! these scenes your just regard demand : See treason's sons, a dire infernal band, Loose to the sacred ties of human kind, In dark society of guilt combined ! Whom lawless lust of pow'r and brutal rage, And black revenge, in horrid league engage, T' invade their peaceful country's sacred rest ; To plunge their ruthless daggers in her breast j To whelm in ruin the Venetian state : Attend ; and tremble for Britannia's fate. ' By Bishop Lowth, communicated by Dr. Warton,' The Hampshire Repository, 1799. ' Venice Preserved ' acted by young gentle- men at Winchester School, 1765 222 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER A Shak- BUT the highest advantage of a public school remains yet to be speare society noticed. It is there that the friendships of life are formed, and in this respect I was singularly blessed. In the very year of my arrival at Winchester (1812) I formed a friendship with Walter Farquhar Hook which has lasted through life. From 1812 till the present time scarcely a month has intervened without correspondence between us. Hook was three years older than myself, but he had devoted himself so much to English literature that he fell below me in the school. In this respect we became mutually useful to each other. Hook was passionately fond of reading Shakspeare and Milton when I first knew him, and a small order of knighthood, called after them the Order of Saints Shakspeare and Milton, was founded by him, of which he and I were styled the Knights Grand Masters. The other Elizabethan classics, however, were gradually drawn within the circle of the studies, or rather the recreation, of our leisure hours. Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger and the Fairy Queen were made to contribute to our amusement ; and though, of course, much more was read than we digested, still the benefit derived from these studies has been lasting. We even read through Hoole's Tasso and Ariosto, a work of some labour owing to the extreme dulness of the translation. Dr. Gabell himself encouraged English reading. He would frequently repeat Pope's Imitations of Horace to the boys at their lessons, and expected them to read the Spectator, Johnson's Lives of the Poets, and some of the English historians. The time, however, was short for this ; but being rather quick over my work, I was able to help my older friend forward in Greek and Latin in return for the improvement I derived from his maturer judgment and larger powers of thought in English and classical reading. W. R. W. Stephens. Memoir of Lord Hatherley, i. 15-17. R. Bentley and Son, 1883. SAINT SHAKSPEARE 223 ON one memorable occasion, when the early meetings of the A Tale of Winchester College Shakspeare Society were held in the head- master's house, John Desborough Walford was taking the rdle of the Ghost in Hamlet. The line ' Rest, rest, perturbed spirit ' became ironically applicable to him, for his only answer to his exerciser was ' an airy but audible snore.' College tradition, mentioned in Nodes Shaksperianae (ed. C. H. Hawkins). PATRONS and friends that join to view to-day prologue to What ancient worth may crown our modern play, List ! while I speak our protean change of scene : Look what it is, and learn what it has been. Time was (and yet may be) when each and all Deemed stern Minerva mistress of this hall ; Not spoken parts, but parts of speech were rife, And sense with syntax vainly fought for life. But now, ' no verbs and nouns ' shall try your patience, No concords three conjoined with conjugations, Declensions we decline without pretence Our schoolboy-hate for tenses is intense A new ' optative mood ' I can engage, A scenic ardour, and a Roscian rage. Since you last viewed our play, and spoke us well, Without debate we to debating fell Fell short by one of giving Beales a soothing, Proved the Jamaica case an airy nothing, And ruled in spite of all the maudlin phil- Anthropists, that some game needs hanging still 1 : And then to give our youthful follies name, We printed ' older children do the same ' Virtue 's the truest fame : and next, I think, Comes immortality in printer's ink ! 1 These allusions are to some subjects then lately discussed at the New Winchester Debating Society: e.g. 'The Reform Demonstrations,' 'The Jamaica Question,' and 'Capital Punishment.' 224 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER F. R. Benson and his ' strolling players ' This of ourselves we speak ; one word I claim In humble memory of a well-loved name ; This name beneath whose care and kindly rule All learnt to love the Master and the School, Him we have lost to him we give to-day For love that no such tribute can repay All we can give, the meed of grateful minds Linked by a bond that not e'en time unbinds. 1 Such are our projects, friends ! on you we call ; Make play and paper periodical ! Macbeth, while yet he 'scaped the toils of fate, While loyal still, yet could not check his mate. To check-mate us needs but one breath from you, Grant therefore novices th' allowance due ; We have divided Houses ere to-day ; Let then this House unite to praise our Play. E. D. A. Morsehead. Prologue spoken before the Winchester Play, September 5, 1867. Printed in The Wykehamist, November 1867. THE even tenor of our life at Winchester has, during the past fortnight, been disturbed by a company of strolling players. It may seem strange that the arrival of such persons could have had any effect upon such a body as our School ; we believe that never before has such a thing happened, that in spite of travelling companies and alluring advertisements, the School has tacitly bound itself by a ' self-denying ordinance,' has guarded itself closely within the strict pale of routine and custom, and has ' itself found in itself ' all that it required for amusement or entertainment. Mr. Benson has changed all this : he has started (let the Irishism be excused) a new precedent. On the 3Oth October he performed before the School the comedy called Money. The Wykehamist , November 1883. 1 Reference to retirement of Dr. Moberly from Headmastership after thirty-one years. COLLEGE TOW-ROW, 1907 225 FIRST we bid you hearty welcome, ladies, lords, and gentles all, Linei Welcome to this stately building, welcome to the Founder's Hall ; JJJlJjJ ^ Kings and Queens of old came hither ; princes quaffed the row, 1907 l College Huff, Till the Manciple grew weary or the Warden cried ' enough.' Silk and velvet, furs and sable, ranged and ranked in due degree, Graced the board, where wit and wisdom clashed in decent revelry. ' Stoupes ' and Beakers, Salts and Flagons, Standing-cups and Goblets old, Gleamed amid a hundred candles : silver shone on plate of gold. Then, methinks, rich mellow voices linked in lovely madrigals Rose to heaven in swelling chorus, sank to earth in softer falls : All the world was full of music ; merry England's master-notes Rang and echoed round the rafters from Elizabethan throats. Such the feast-days of old England, put to bed with good Queen Bess: Days of mirth gigantic wedded to gigantic storm and stress Is this dreamland ? Still the burden of that music far away Seems to mock our puny efforts, children of a later day, Yet we venture : soft recorders blend with viol and with lute, To perform a willing service for their gentle lady flute ; Flute that erst, akin to madness, bade the frantic passions rise : Now a softer touch can summon tears from frailer human eyes. We have ventured Valse and Trio, sailor-songs and roundelays Raise the heart and fire the fancy with a dream of olden days, We have ventured home-born dances, while some panting notes from far Throbbed and quivered, roared and thundered one terrific Kaaba. 2 But here where Wykeham's solemn frown Upon our mirth looks stately down ; Here, where the saintly soul of Ken Breathes mild reproof on modern men ; 1 Selections from A Midsummer Night's Dream were given at this tow-row. * A chorus of Dervishes. P 226 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Where Curie and Morley, Bilson, Foxe, Serenely shake their mitred J locks ; Where twenty Wardens bend a brow Of question on our poor tow-row, Where massy walls and timbers stout Have seen five centuries flicker out, And beechen trenchers, seats of stone, Are set to make us think and moan : Dare we present a gross dull play, A rude mechanics' holiday ? Yes we dare ; for Wykeham's laws 2 After supper bid us pause, Spend an idle hour in song Or disputes which mean no wrong, We may talk of sober things, Stars and earthquakes, queens and kings. Once, in Bess's golden days, College gave a leash of plays ; Links and joists and stage and scene All was rich and well beseen Once the lantern on the stairs Needed radical repairs : Once an oaken table splits Into half a thousand bits Such the temper, such the fist, Of a Tudor Wykehamist. We are weaker men and can't Bursar, break your precious plant. So, good guests, look kindly on us from your chairs and from your frames, If we dare to tax your patience, gentle dons and gentle dames : 1 All bishops, whose portraits hang in Hall. 1 See Kirby, Annals of Winchester College. TOWN v. GOWN 227 Thou, I ween, good Mistress Taylor, 1 wilt not gird at rustic mirth ; For thy Sunday veal proclaims thee half of heaven but half of earth. And methinks, one lately taken 2 reaches out with kindly hand, Deeply loved and deeply loving, blessings from the Shadowland Thou dear friend, so late our Falstaff, 8 will not envy Bottom's skill: Still thy presence dwells among us, generous and unselfish still. Now, if lion roar too loudly, please forgive the royal calf ; Edward iv. once sent a lion 4 just to make the scholars laugh. If his gait be proud and prancing, if his spleen your temper vex, Think him sent for your diversion by our own Edwardus rex. And if Philostrate 5 be pompous, with a bland superior smile ; He can race you any distance from a ' hundred ' to a mile. And if Thisbe 6 flit and flutter, skirts a-sail and flounces high, Please remember she can caper sixty inches to the sky. And if Bottom 1 press his humour, racing down the stage and up, Please forgive him, College-lovers ; for he won you Taylor Cup. M. J. R. [M. J. Kendall, then Second, and now Headmaster of Winchester College.] 14. TOWN v. GOWN SATURDAY, February 23, 1770. THIS post brought Mr. Bowles a letter from his son at Winchester, A great riot giving an account of a great riot in that school ; it began on 1 Mrs. Taylor, the supposed benefactress of veal once a week in Lent to the College. 1 'Mrs. Dick.' 8 Rev. George Richardson, who often read Falstaff in Henry IV. 4 In 1474 ; Kirby, op. cit. 6 C. M. Pope, second in Quarter, Half-Mile and Mile. 6 J. A. Stainton, winner of High Jump with 5 ft. in. 7 C. Howard Smith, winner of Hundred Yards, the Quarter, and the Half-Mile. College West had just won Taylor Cup for athletic sports. 228 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER some affront given, I think Monday, by the townsmen to some of the commoners. Tuesday evening a detachment of commoners set out, armed with bludgeons and some with pistols. Dr. Warton, on hearing this, locked up what boys remained in the Commoners' Hall, but they forced the door open, and would join their friends ; the College was also locked, but they also grew outrageous, and they were let out to join in the fray. About eight they were got home all of them, and put to bed. One townsman was wounded by a shot in his leg. Wednesday night they sallied forth again, armed with weapons of all kinds, and fought in the churchyard ; the riot was so great that the magistrates were obliged to interfere, and the Riot Act was read. At length they dispersed, and I do not hear of any further mischief than bruises. Master Bowles was not in it, but by his manner of writing he seems greatly terrified. I am sorry for all this, as the school had got into great repute, and it must give Dr. Warton infinite concern, but the spirit of riot is gone forth into all degrees. Mrs. Harris to her son at Madrid. Harris, Letters of the First Earl of M almesbury, ed. 1870. SALISBURY, March 3, 1770. A formidable THE riot I mentioned in my last, at Winchester, is all over and tMng no one expelled. It was a formidable thing, for they had several brace of pistols. It began, as I hear, by the landlord of the White Hart desiring some of the commoners who were drinking at his house, not to drink any more, but to go home j this gave such offence, that the next day some went and broke his windows, the man was obliged to call his neighbours to his assistance, so that brought on the battle between the townsmen and the scholars. The great hero's name is Hare, he had been expelled from Eton. Mrs. Harris to her son at Madrid. Harris, Letters of the First Earl of Malmesbury, ed. 1870. FOOLISH RIOTS 229 November 13, 1774. THERE has been a foolish riot at Winchester, and forty of the A foolish riot middle class of the commoners have set off. Our neighbour Seaman, Dr. Warton locked up. Lord Shaftesbury stayed at school, Knatchbull went to your uncle Harris's and is still there. Seaman desired to be sent for home, and so he was. He tells me it all arose from some boy dressing up like the housekeeper who has a humpback, and she desired the assistant Huntingford to order them all to bed before their usual time. That they would not comply with, then Dr. Warton came into the hall ; the boys hissed him, and said either Huntingford or they must quit the house ; so all this trouble is owing to a silly old woman, who now, too late, repents her complaining. Mrs. Harris to her son in Berlin. Harris, Letters of the First Earl of Malmesbury, ed. 1870. THERE had been mutterings of a coming storm for some time, Town versus typified by occasional sets-to between some individual boys and Qown| " 180< snobs, and forays by the latter on the clothes or towels of solitary small bathers. The town party chose their time for a demon- stration with peculiar prudence. They waited till Commoners had gone, which they did on the Saturday before Election week. On the Monday following, the boys (now reduced in number to seventy, of whom at least twenty remained in College preparing for the coming examination) went on to Hills. They had not been there long before it became known that there was a gathering of the enemy at Twyford ; and expresses being sent back to College that ' Snobs were on,' and for the reserve to come up, we took the initiative, and went to Twyford to anticipate the attack. We hadn't long to wait, and there was some very pretty fighting both in the way of general skirmishes and individual mills. We got the best of it : and some of the bigger boys, elated with success, determined to push up to the stronghold of the enemy in the town. I was much too small for this part of the campaign, and with the other little boys, 230 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER retired behind the breastworks of College, where, by the by, we arrived very considerably later than the regulation hour. I have heard heart-stirring accounts of the heroic deeds of the heavy brigade, but not having been present I cannot particularly describe them. I believe that they carried on the attack bravely in the town for some time till overcome by numbers. The boys retreated to a path which leads out of High Street down by the river-side to College, at the head of which (where there were two posts to prevent carts passing) they took their stand, and for a considerable time held their own gallantly. But at last they were obliged to break and fly, making good their retreat into College, however, without anything like serious damage. On numbering their forces, one boy was found missing, and grave apprehension was entertained for his safety, which, however, was soon dissipated by his unexpected appearance from the Warden's house. In the flight he had tripped and fallen into Bungy's ditch, where he wisely lay quiet till the throng of pursuers had rushed past, when he gently strolled towards College, and opportunely meeting with a well-known barrister who was taking his evening's walk, he got him to give him a lift over the wall of Warden's garden, and was safe. School Life at Winchester College, by the author of The Log of the Water Lily, 1866. On the occasion of George Ill.'s visit to Winchester College, 1778 15. ROYALTIES AND MEDALS FORGIVE th' officious Muse, that with weak voice And trembling accents rude, attempts to hail Her Royal Guest ! who from yon tented field, Britain's defence and boast, has deigned to smile On Wykeham's sons : the gentler arts of Peace And Science, ever prompt to praise, and Mars To join with Pallas ! 'Tis the Muse's task And office but to consecrate to Fame Heroes and virtuous kings : the generous youths ROYALTIES AND MEDALS 231 My loved compeers, hence with redoubled toils Shall strive to merit such auspicious smiles : And through life's various walks, in arts or arms, Or tuneful numbers, with their country's love, And with true loyalty enflamed, t' adorn This happy realm ; while thy paternal care To time remote, and distant lands, shall spread Peace, justice, riches, science, freedom, fame. Spoken by Lord Shaf tesbury on account of the Commoners, and composed by Dr. Warton (see Wooll's Life of Warton). EPIGRAM ON LORD AILESBURY'S WITHDRAWAL OF HIS PRIZES FROM WINCHESTER SCHOOL UPON THE RETIREMENT OF DR. WARTON WHEN Warton from his Mastership retired With him the patronage of Bruce expired : The noble patron's prizes thus we find, Not for the boys, but master, were designed. But the more noble Prince [of Wales] the want supplied, And gave to genius all that Bruce denied. The Hampshire Repository, i. 53, March 1799. Thou too, GREAT PRINCE, in whom serenely shine TO the Prince The genuine splendours of the Brunswick Line, Thou with fresh glory (were it ours to give) Shouldst still with them thro' distant ages live, By thee be shar'd imperial Edward's praise, 'Twas His, the FOUNDER OF THESE WALLS to raise ; His worth to recompense with liberal hand, And aid the work, his patriot bounty plann'd. Then was this stately fabrick rear'd ! 'Tis THINE To add new lustre to the grand design : To kindle virtuous emulation's flame, And bid the youthful bosom pant for fame ; 232 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Whilst WYKEHAM (as he sits enthron'd above, And views his offspring with a parent's love), With conscious pride elated, smiles to see Their FRIEND, their PATRON, and their PRINCE, in THEE. Deign then, ILLUSTRIOUS PATRON, to receive Such thanks, as WYKEHAM'S grateful sons can give : And (though the great, the glorious theme require A Dryden's force, a Milton's matchless fire) Accept these humble lays, nor O ! refuse The rude effusions of an artless muse, Whose feeble voice, in numbers weak, essays To join the full-ton'd choir, and swell the note of praise. To ' His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, having been graciously pleased, in 1797, to give annual Prizes oj Gold and Silver Medals for Composition and Elocution, to the Scholars and Commoners of Winchester College. . . .' The Hampshire Repository, 1798. Pater Collegii ' Thy Colleges stand fait ' MANNERS AND MEN i. THE FOUNDER COLLEGIUM WINTONIENSE PRIMA scholas Europae inter Wintonia : cujus Pars ego, quae mea laus maxima, parva fui. Hunc tibi primatum non Zoilus ipse negabit Si tibi Wickamum noverit esse patrem. Epigram by John Owen, ' The British Martial,' printed in The Wykehamist, April 1886. Qui condis dcxtra, condis collegia laeva ; Nemo tuarum unam vicit utraque manu. Hunccine tarn cultas tibi qui sacraverit aed.es, Extincto pateris nomine, musa, rnori ? Musa, perire veta ; vetuit te, musa, Derive Wykehamus, et quamvis ipse sepultus alii. Lines above and beneath Wykeham's Portrait. THE FOUNDER 233 Right hand and left thy colleges stand fast : None hath with both hands' labour one surpassed. Him shall the Muse, who gave her gifts like these, Leave unremembered in a dumb repose ? Nay, but she gives fresh life to him, who gave Fresh life to her, and feeds her from the grave. Translation made by H. W. B. Joseph, Tutor and Junior Bursar of New College, Oxford. PERHAPS few travellers who alight at Winchester fully realise The Name of the long historical story possessed by this old town , : still in the w y keliam minds of most people the name of William of Wykeham at once rises, with more or less distinctness, when they make their way to the Cathedral bearing on the whole of its long nave the impress of his mind and to the College, which owes its existence to him. A. R. Bramston and A. C. Leroy. A City of Memories. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1893. Tis Winton's day of solemn state, Founder's To Wykeham's memory consecrate : Day Her scattered sons from far she calls Once more to tread her ancient halls ; To cast, upon their Founder's day, The weary load of years away ; And breathe again, for that brief time, The freshness of their boyhood's prime. The morning bells have chimed to prayer In the old order, two and two, The youthful throng that worships there Has passed the reverend portal through ; And through the gorgeous Eastern pane, The Summer sun looks down again 234 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Upon the well-remembered show, That decks the crowded aisle below On Boyhood's glowing cheek and eye, Open and clear as morning sky : On Youth, in all its flush of prime, Life's fairest, freshest, goodliest time On forms by years and labours bowed, Strange contrast to that boyish crowd ! Men, it may be, whose steps have gained The loftiest heights by worth attained ; Whose names to England justly dear, Ring like a trump in every ear ; 'Mid joyous urchins, in whose eyes No palm transcends the schoolboy's prize ! Yet the same thoughts and feelings sway Boyhood and Youth, and Age to-day : For cares of State and dreams of Pride Within these walls are cast aside ; And all are Wykeham's sons once more, As true and guileless as of yore. The heirship of his mighty name Makes old and young in heart the same. And almost could their fancy feign, That, as they kneel where then they knelt, Relenting Time had given again The lightsome step, the bounding vein, Which in those vanished years they felt. Cold were the heart for whom that hour Had no sweet spell, no quickening power ; And on that evening, as I strayed, Beneath the Cloister's hoary shade, When ' summer's twilight ' 'gan to gloam, To hear the old ' sweet song of home/ MANNERS MAKYTH MAN 235 Back on my thoughts those words returned, At sight of that exulting throng ; Like fire within my soul they burned, And shaped its fancies into song. William of Wykeham, by H. C. Adams, 1858. IN a grey old town, that our hearts know well, A bishop Rises a grey stone tower ; Ever and ever its swinging bell Speaks with the voice of power : For it tells the vvorld of a bishop great, In a minster lying low, Who moulded at will both Church and State, Five hundred years ago. A poem by N. in The Wykehamist, July 1893. WHO loves not thee, Wykeham ? Thy cherished name Manners Is like a symbol of mild charity, makyth *** ' And holiness, and wisdom in thy fame Glories old Winton, who once sheltered thee, A lorn and nameless child of poverty, And was the foster-parent of thy mind. High-placed and powerful 'twas thy lot to be ; Yet filial fondness did thee ever bind To those grey walls which to thy earliest years were kind. Thy Saxon city far outgrows her walls, And busier crowds her lengthening streets do throng, And the hoarse voice of steam loud roaring calls Her citizens' life's widening streams along. Still to thy gentle spirit do belong 236 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The spots where thou didst live thy early span ; And he who, musing, roams these haunts among Will still meet thee, and read, if read he can, The lesson thy life taught, that Manners tnakyth man. Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. The oioriesof ' THERE are among the sons of men,' the wise old Hebrew said, ' Whose memory, like the forms they wore, is numbered with the dead. Whose names, though foremost in the throng that trod with them the scene, In after ages have become as they had never been.' But Thou thy memory doth not die, the magic of thy name Lives on, where all things else decay, the same and still the same, While thrones are crumbled into dust, and earth's profoundest schemes Pass with their founders into nought, as pass the morning dreams ; While laws that were a nation's life, grow obsolete and strange, While ancient things are hurried down the ceaseless tide of change ; The fire that in thy children's hearts, thou hi thy day didst light, Brightly and pure as first it burned, still burns as pure and bright. The noblest names of England's rolls, on which she loves to dwell; Which are, to each true English heart, a watchword and a spell Who bore her flag through storms of fight, who swayed her helm of state, Drank at thy fountain of the draught, that made their manhood great ! AN INVOCATION 237 Through noontide years of noble toil, in Age's calm decline, With moistened eye, and kindling voice, they told that they were thine. They loved across the track of years, the backward glance to cast ; Through memory's softening haze, to catch sweet glimpses of the Past. O surely in that solemn hour, to thee so long delayed, When to the ripened corn at length the Reaper's hand was laid ; Thy wish would sure have been that thus thy cherished work might stand, Outspreading like some stately tree, its branches through the land! That where in life thy knee was bent, thy children still might bend, Their hope, their creed, their heart the same, unchanging to the end ! That still thy memory might have power, like some proud battle- cry, To bring the flush to Boyhood's cheek, the fire to Age's eye. That on their lips, and in their hearts, the magic of thy name Should live when all things else decay the same and still the samel William of Wykeham, by H. C. Adams. SHADE of Wykeham ! where the dim grey arches An invocation Echo round thee to the voice of praise, Doth the step of Time that loudly marches Reach thee through the changeless change of days ? Lo ! of things that perish, little reckoning Lives there, they are past hours of the night ; Men are drawn to where a hand is beckoning Down far vistas to an orient light, 238 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Onward is the motto of the ages Shrieked by clamorous voices in the crowd, Branded in the breast by burning pages, Thunder-pealing from the riven cloud. Sleepest Thou ? and is it that for ever ? Rests thy soul as silent as the grave ? Or that, for the calmness of the river Runs a fiercer current in the wave ? One the will that guides it to the ocean, One the even channel of its way, Countless are the sparks of bright devotion Flashing on the waters every day. Sons of thine, towards the future turning, Minded with the ages to advance, Still have found some lessons worth the learning Which ' from out the storied past ' might chance. Still to thee, the fount of Inspiration, Proudly all their noble deeds they trace, Nothing have they called their own creation, God, through thee, has given them the grace. By ' Semper Idem ' in The Wykehamist, April 1867. ' MANNERS MAKYTH MAN ' ' winton'g BROTHERS ! from Winton's brooding wing brood g j n some short years we pass How shall we prove our metal's ring When current in the mass ? On Alma Mater's trial stage, Or wider theatre still, How shall the Wykehamist engage His careful part to fill ? A BOISTEROUS SONG 239 I hold most worthy Wykeham's name, The man whose thoughts and deeds Are first for others, and their claim, The whilst dear self recedes ! By 'Ora e Sempre' in The Wykehamist, July 1872. WILLIAM OF WICKHAM: A SONG FOR THE WICCAMICAL ANNIVERSARY, HELD AT THE CROWN AND ANCHOR TAVERN I SING not your heroes of ancient romance : A Boisterous Capadocian George, or Saint Dennis of France ; Son8r No chronicler I am Of Troy and King Priam, And those crafty old Greeks who to fritters did fry 'em : But your voices, brave boys, one and all I bespeak 'em, In due celebration of William of Wickham. Chorus Let Wickham's brave boys at the Crown and the Anchor The flask never quit 'till clean out they have drank her ; And united maintain, whether sober or mellow, That old Billy Wickham was a very fine fellow. Hear the Lover, you '11 learn, from his tragical stories, Of hard-hearted Phcebe, Corinna and Chloris, For some sempstress or starcher That rascally archer Call'd Cupid, has made him as mad as a March hare : But at Wickham's brave boys should he brandish his dart We '11 drown the blind rogue in a Winchester quart. Chorus For Wickham's brave boys, etc. 240 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Let Whig Rhetoricians our rulers defame, And hungry Sedition's republican flame Foment, and throw chips on, Independence their lips on, While they incense a mob, and exist by subscription : Here of Liberty's Tree if for scyons they search, They '11 instead catch a tartar, Wiccamical Birch. Chorus For Wickham's brave boys, etc. Ye Poetical tribe, on Parnassus who forage, Who prate of Jove's nectar and Helicon-porridge, Yet, for beef-stakes and brandy, Set each Jack-a-dandy On a level with Frederick, or Prince Ferdinandy : What 's the sword of King Arthur, or Admiral Hosier, To William of Wickham and his jolly old Crosier ? Chorus Let Wickham's brave boys, etc. Poem in Salmagundi, edited by George Huddesford, 1801. 2. THE SECOND FOUNDER ATriumpiiant THE supreme change which the reign of Dr. Ridding accomplished cannot be described in truer words than those hi which Dr. Abbott denned Winchester when speaking at the Second Head- masters' Conference held there in 1888, when the changes which Dr. Ridding's Headmastership had made had stood the test of some years. ' Winchester College was,' he said, ' a place where everything was antique and nothing was antiquated.' What Dr. Ridding accomplished was most remarkable. The difficulties, obstacles, and prejudices that had to be overcome THE SECOND FOUNDER 241 would have daunted many strong spirits, but they crumbled away under the resistless attack of his ' constructive genius, strength of will, and munificence.' It was this result which made his seventeen years of rule at Winchester a great triumphant progress. . The venerable Dr. Sewell [in 1887] . . . spoke of the past suspicions of all the changes changes which he now felt were gain and not loss : ' I said Ridding was going to ruin the School ; now I say he is our Second Founder.' Lady Laura Ridding's George Ridding, Schoolmaster and Bishop. Edward Arnold, 1908. PATIENT Contender for the True and Just, 'patient With grief acquainted but still unsubdued, contender for the True Winner of many a young heart's love and trust and Juat ' Ere Winchester from thee her parting rued. The wrestling winds of thought thy mind had felt, Gnarled was the slow-grown fibre of thy speech, Yet in thy sterling voice Truth's spirit dwelt, And the deep places of our soul could reach. With face uplifted as a swimmer's thou Wast ever striking for the further shore ; Ah ! since thy feet have touched it, leave us now One message ere we see thy face no more. To take the joy God sends you think not scorn, Watchful but free Youth's revelling moment spend, Then girt with strength upon the coming morn, Your battle fight and fight it to the end. 1 George Ridding,' a poem by W. H. Draper, from Lady Laura Ridding's George Ridding, Schoolmaster and Bishop. Edward Arnold, 1908. 242 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The Peg: ' THE sparkling eyes and grin of pleasure with which the Head- master [Dr. Ridding] met the victorious [rifle] team [which had won the Ashburton Shield] in Flint Court on their return late at night on the first occasion of their victory [1871] are still remem- bered. ' Moberly Library is shut up ! Will you allow me to be Peg for to-night ? ' was his hospitable greeting. ' Three cheers for the Peg ! ' was shouted in reply. And henceforth he added the name of The Peg to Ja Ra. Lady Laura Ridding's George Ridding, etc. Edward Arnold, 1908. ' Tbe p egr ' in DR. SPEDDING, at that time headmaster of Winchester, was not physically a big man, but he was the fortunate possessor of a singularly powerful face. He may have been short-sighted it is a fact that he habitually used a single eye-glass but the expression of his black eyes was so piercingly acute that few would care to presume upon any supposed deficiency in their power. Nose, mouth, and chin were all indicative of strength and resolution. It added to the terror inspired by him in the youthful breast that he spoke habitually in a succession of short, sharp sentences, and that it was impossible to gather (at all events without long experience of his manner) whether he were satisfied with any answer or grievously displeased. Unhappy boys, ignorant of his peculiar method, would sail on merrily amid a gathering cloud of errors, fancying that they were acquitting themselves to the admiration of all. ' Yes, yes, my boy and what do you say, next ? ' would be his only comment at the close, and the passage would go through a whole division with no further indication on his part of what was wrong. It was necessary for the keenest wits to keep on the alert before such a sphinx as this. Christopher Deane, by E. H. Lacon Watson. John Murray. MY GLORIOUS CHIEF 243 MUST thou go, my glorious chief ? On Dr. Partings are severe, but brief ; Future years forget the grief We are grieving. Thine indeed a glorious sequel ; But, O where to find thine equal ! We must mourn, while others speak well Of thy leaving. How I loved thee ! How I feared thee ! How I awfully revered thee ! How I trembled when I neared the Study portal ! Which was then the foremost feeling O'er my aching senses stealing ? Hair on end and blood congealing Pangs immortal ! But these days of fateful meeting Now are visions dimly fleeting ; Now I fear no birch's greeting When I enter ; Wish not to shrink up inside me, In my buttoned gown to hide me, When thy piercing glance has eyed me To the centre. ' Monthly fevers ' ne'er affect me, As they used ; I recollect me, When that dread ' brow ague ' wrecked me At convenience. Now I fear no ' detuli Jussa cuius domini,' Nor the pangs those words imply Without lenience. 244 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Yet I 'd gladly creep once more Bible-clerk, stride on before To thy Study's doomful door, At thy bidding, If my martyrdom could gain thee, If by that I could detain thee, If by that thou couldst remain the Doctor Ridding. Vain alas ! Another station Claims thy present occupation ; In lamenting resignation With one mouth we '11 Cry : ' Oh ! blest the world to choose thee ! Wretched Winchester to lose thee ! Farewell ! We may not refuse thee ! Bishop Southwell ! ' The Mnshri-English Pronouncing Dictionary, Appendix to College Lyrics, 1882. 3. A WARDEN AND SOME HEADMASTERS 'Tupto' HUNTINGFORD, Bishop of Hereford, was Warden during the whole of my college career. He was an aged man, and some- what of a valetudinarian. And to the imagination of us boys, who rarely saw him, he assumed something of the mystic, awe- inspiring character of a ' veiled prophet of Khorassan.' . . . The Warden's nickname, borne among sundry generations of Wykehamists, was Tupto (TUTTTCD), as we always supposed from that Greek verb used as the example in the Greek grammar. But I have heard from those of an earlier generation that it was quasi dicas ' tiptoe,' from the fact of his father having been a dancing-master. The former derivation seems to me the more plausible. . . . His rule of Winchester College was a long and AN OUTSPOKEN HEADMASTER 245 prosperous one ; and as long as it lasted he was able to carry out his favourite maxim, ' No innovation ! ' T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 127-31. Bentley and Son, 1887. BUT a becheler of holy devynyte come to that cytte [Coventry] wiuiam IYCB, and whenn he come to preche by-fore the Kyng, as Maystyr f^ d ^ aat * r> Wylliam Saye Dene of Poulys and Dene of the Kyngys chapylle, hadde desyred and asygnyd, A. B. C. axyd hys name, and his name was Mayster Wylliam Ive, at that tyme beyng at Wynchester in Wycham ys college [a Winchester scholar, 1425]. And A. B. C. sayde that they moste nedys se hys sarmon and hys purposes, that he was avysyd to say by-fore the Kynge the Sonday nexte comynge. And he fulle goodly toke them hys papyr ; and they seyng and redynge hys papyr, commaundyd to leve owte and put away many troughtys. But that same Mayster Wylliam Ive sayde but lytylle, but whenn he come to pulpyt he spared not to say the troughthe, and reportyd by-fore the Kyng that A. B. C. made the sarmonys that were sayde fore, and not thoo that prechyd, and that causyd that the men that prechyd hadde but symplle sarmons, for hyr purposse was alle turnyde upsodowne, and that they hadde made love days as Judas made whythe a cosse, with Cryste for they cyste ovyr the mane. The grete rewarde that he hadde for hys labyr was the rydynge of viii xx myle yn and owte for hys travayle, and alle hys frendys full sory for hym.' * Chron. of William Gregory, Skinner (Camden Society), 1425. ' MONODY ON THE DEATH OF DR. WARTON ' . . . THY cheering voice, Dr. Joseph OWarton! bid my silent heart rejoice, SeStaaster And wak'd to love of Nature : every breeze, of Winchester On Itchin's brink, was melody : the trees *** 1 Unfortunately this episode is placed in 1458, while College records show that Ive ceased to be Headmaster of Winchester in 1454. 246 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Wav'd in fresh beauty : and the wind and rain That shook the battlements of Wykeham's fane, Not less delighted, when with random pace I trod the cloister'd aisles : and, witness thou, Catharine, upon whose foss-encircled brow We met the morning, how I lov'd to trace The prospect spread around the rills below, That shone irriguous in the fuming plain ; The river's bend, where the dark barge went slow, And the pale light on yonder time-worn fane. 1 The Rev. W. L. Bowles. A Defence of SPLEEN gave the word ; th' envenomed arrow sped, Dr. warton Nor spared the classic Warton's hoary Head. Where were ye, Muses, who were wont to roam Near Itchin's stream, or Beaufort's sacred Dome ? Or ye, who lapp'd in Wykeham school of yore, Now bloom transplanted on fair Isis' shore, Why loiter'd ye ? or why still mute the tongue Of Bards, whose lyre their Warton whilom strung ? Thus far, incens'd at Calumny, the Muse, A nameless satirist, and his foul abuse, Had dared to censure ; eager to reclaim, And vindicate her Warton's injured name Witness ye guardians of this lettered Place, Whose mind he stored with every Attic grace, No prouder sera Wykeham's Annals vaunt, Than when the Muses, to this favourite haunt By Warton led, forsook th' Aonian springs, And Itchin flow'd responsive to their strings. St. Cross Hospital. DR. JOSEPH WARTON 247 O I could my Muse thus tune her plaintive lays, And sing in equal strains her Warton's praise, Then, when thy well-loved Reynolds' colours fade, (As fade they must) thy fame should bloom, Blest Shade ! Beyond the Pencil's reach for thee the Nine A wreath with Collins, Lowth and Young should twine, Immortalise thy name to Wykeham dear, In lines thyself might not disdain to hear. On the death of Dr. Warton in 1800. Quoted in The Wykehamist, December 1905. THE noontide hour is past and toil is o er, on the death . , , of Dr. Warton No studious cares the vacant mind employ j Yet hark, methinks no longer as before Yon mead re-echoes with a shout of joy. What sudden grief has seiz'd the youthful band ? Say, Wykeham's sons, why reigns this silence round ? Why do ye thus in mute attention stand And listen to that death-bell's awful sound ? Ask ye the cause ? 'tis Warton's knell, and lo ! The fun'ral train appears in black array j Down yonder Hill with solemn steps and slow The Hearse winds on its melancholy way. Led by Affliction the sad sight to view, The thronging youth suspend their wanton Play, All crowd around to bid the last adieu, Or lost hi thoughtful musings steals (sic) away. Yes, holy shade, for thee these tears are shed, The sullen death-bell's ling'ring pause between, For thee o'er all a pious calm is spread And hush'd the murmurs of the playful scene. 248 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Oh name to Wykeham's sons for ever dear, Whilst thus for thee these floods of tears we pour, Thy partial spirit seems to linger here Blessing awhile the scenes it lov'd before. Within these walls to every duty true 'Twas thine to form the duteous mind of youth, To ope the fame of Glory to their view And point the way to science and to truth. And lo ! the Plants that grew beneath thy care Now in maturer age majestic stand, And spread their clust'ring branches to the air ^ And stretch their shadow o'er a smiling land. Youth may forget his transitory pow'r But manhood feels a deeper sense of woe ; And sure to them thy name is doubly dear Who to thy care their ripen'd Honours owe. They heard th' inciting dictates of thy tongue, For thou couldst smooth the way thro' learning's maze. Oft on thy words in deep attention hung Till emulation kindl'd into praise. O mark their grief e'en now in tender Hues By memory trac'd thro' their days of youth return, But, ah, fond mem'ry ev'ry pang renews And points in speechless agony to thine urn. So strain their tears but thron'd on high, Haply the Seraphs hallow'd Choir among, Lull'd by soft sounds of sweetest minstrelsy While Wykeham listens and approves thy song. GABELL AND GAFFER 249 Oh for a spark of that celestial fire With which bright Fancy warm'd thy kindling soul, When erst the full chores of thy living lyre Held all the listn'ing passions in control. Alas though vain the wish tho' weakest lay Which feebly chants a Warton's name, Yet happy shade there still remains a way To raise the lasting monument of fame. Be our's the virtues thy example taught To feel, preserve and practise while we live, Thus only can we praise thee as we ought, The noblest tribute this thy sons can give. So when Affliction at the close of Eve In yonder dim-seen Cloisters shall appear, No more in fruitless anguish shall we grieve, But learn the lessons of true Wisdom there. There while she sees the sculptur'd bust arise, Rais'd by the hands of gratitude and Love, Virtue shall consecrate her tend'rest sighs, And thoughts exalted thy rapt spirit move. Then Wykeham's sons with ardour more imprest Shall breathe one prayer that such their lot may be, Prais'd by the wise and good to sink to rest, And mourn'd by tears such as they shed for thee. C. Lipscombe, afterwards Fellow of New College and Bishop of Jamaica. Add. MS. 29,539, ff. 283, 29 and 293. I DO not know that Gabell was altogether an unpopular man, aabeii and but he never inspired that strong affection that his successor they sang from his lips : Yet he would welcome each timid new comer, Epic or lyric, new sermons, new quips. E. D. A. M. 265 Ay ! and he lifted us ! often we grumbled, Stung by a barb that flew straight to its goal : ' Better and better ' he cried, and we stumbled Upward and onward, to conquer our soul. Edmund, we thank you for words deem'd unkindly, Standards too high and impossible creeds ; Youth is lighthearted and reckons so blindly : You took our measure, and sowed the right seeds. Thirty long years did he pose as tormentor, True to himself, and to us, till the end, Wrought, fought and conquered j our kindliest mentor, Poet and critic and angler and friend. Eyes felt the stress, and head whispered a warning, ' Tune for a change.' So, to gladden the slums, Edmund just gave us the slip, took the morning Quietly, guiltless of trumpets and drums. Do you recall the last verse of his chapter ? ' Domum ' and Christmas afire in our veins : Chamber Court rang with his name (none were apter) Night caught the glow and re-echoed our strains. What was the farewell he left to his College, Standing bareheaded and under the stars ? Was it a plea for fresh fire or new knowledge, Nobler Athene or lordlier Mars ? Nothing of self then no jest and no moral, Nothing pedantic or brilliant or new ; Straight from his heart came this one thought before all, ' Please give a cheer for the Commoners too 1 ' 266 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER This was his testament : long may it stay with us ! This is your Founder, and this is your Hall : Work with us, play with us, sing with us, pray with us ; Scholars and Commoners, Wykehamists all. Lines by M. J. Kendall (then Second, now Headmaster of Winchester College) read in College Hall, March 19, 1904. 5. ' THAT RASCAL TOM ' ' That rascal ... I REMEMBER to have heard my father, who was in College under Dr. Warton, say that Tom Warton, the headmaster's brother (and the well-known author of the History of Poetry] used frequently to be with the boys ' in chambers ' of an evening ; that he would often knock off a companion's ' verse task ' for him, and that the Doctor the next morning would recognise ' that rascal Tom's work.' T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 135. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. 1 A son of the IN these Wintonian fields roved another son of the Muses, whose ' shade ' (as he himself might have expressed it) , would no doubt disdain association with that of the author of Endymion j I mean the Rev. Thomas Warton, Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, Professor of Poetry, and Poet Laureate, which famous and prosperous man of letters came often on a visit to his brother, the Rev. Dr. Joseph, master of Winchester School, himself a bard of note. ' Where shall the Muse, that on the sacred shell, Of men in arms and arts renown'd, The solemn strain delights to swell ; Oh, where shall Clio choose a race Whom Fame with every laurel, every grace, Like those of Albion's envied isle has crown'd ? ' Hush, Reverend Shade I yet for thy diligent annotation, Tom, of Spenser and of Milton, pass not unkindly remembered. THAT RASCAL TOM 267 Strange, that along with intense study of these masters thou couldst pursue thine own scrannel pipings undismayed. William Allingham. Varieties in Prose, ed. by his widow. Longmans, Green and Co., 1893. SAY, shall the Muse o'er the fall'n hero's bier T, , i t i Th eternal monument of glory raise, Swell the loud paean of harmonious praise, And high Ambition's banner'd trophies rear, While silent flows the tributary tear Which to her favourite Son the sorrowing pays. Unstrung her useless lyre and mute her lays ? But hark ! a strain divine now strikes mine ear : The sacred Bard his independent fame Shall from his own immortal verse receive. Soon dies the Warrior's and the Statesman's name, His aid if no recording Poet give : But wreaths of endless bloom shall Warton claim While Wit, while Learning, and while Fancy live. Sonnet in The Wiccamical Chaplet, ed. George Huddesford, 1804. on the death of Thomas warton 6. VARIETIES Emgiem servi si vis spectare probati, Quisquis es, haec oculos pascat imago tuos ; Porcinum os quocunque cibo jejunia sedat ; Haec sera, consilium ne fluat, arcta premit ; Dat patientem asinus dominis jurgantibus aurem ; Cervus habet celeres ire, redire, pedes ; Laeva docet multum tot rebus onusta laborem ; Vestis munditiem ; dextera aperta fidem ; Accinctus gladio ; clypeo munitus ; et inde Vel se, vel dominum, quo tueatur habet. 'This surrey' 268 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER TRANSLATION A TRUSTY servant's portrait would you see, This emblematic figure well survey ; His porker's snout not nice in diet shows ; The padlock 's shut no secret he '11 disclose ; Patient the ass, his master's voice will hear ; Swiftness in errand, the stag's feet declare ; Loaded his left hand apt to labour saith ; His vest his neatness open hand his faith ; Girt with his sword ; his shield upon his arm ; Himself and master he '11 protect from harm. VISITOR CICERONE The Trusty VISITOR. What is this figure painted on the wall ? maTog-ue A ^ subject this for learning's sacred hall ! Is it a learned ass ? CICERONE. Oh no, Sir, pray Observe the snout. VISITOR. A pig's. CICERONE. That is to say He hath no longing after dainty food, But likes enough, even of the coarsest. VISITOR. Good. But wherefore hath a pig's head ass's ears ? CICERONE. It means that, like an ass, the creature bears All patiently. VISITOR. Indeed ! then cuffs and blows He takes as favours ? CICERONE. Aye. VISITOR. Beneath his nose The padlock shut, chaining his under jaw, Keeps him from glutting his voracious maw. Is that its office ? THE TRUSTY SERVANT 269 CICERONE. No. It means that he May be depended on for secrecy. VISITOR. Ah, truly ! What a trim garb ! CICERONE. Which doth mean That he is orderly, and neat, and clean. VISITOR. Good. And his right hand open ? CICERONE. His good faith Betokens : you may credit all he saith. VISITOR. Good, good. And by the stag's feet what is meant ? CICERONE. That he runs swiftly when on errands sent. VISITOR. Aye, very good. Why doth his left arm wield These implements of toil, and bear a shield ? CICERONE. He is inured to labour, and, with sword And shield, upon occasion can afford Protection to his master. VISITOR. True he has A sword. Then this odd compound of an ass, And pig, and stag, and man, is meant to show What a good servant ought to be ? CICERONE. Right so. VISITOR. In my mind a strange ornament to grace A seat of learning ! Yet not strange the place Is not unaptly chosen. Are not we All servants ? All have duties none are free. He who by study hath the knowledge gained How best to serve, true wisdom hath obtained. Christopher Wood. Reminiscences of Winchester, c. 1860. WHEN I was at Winchester there were twin brothers who were The twin so exactly alike that if they themselves knew which was which it was more than any one else did. On one occasion they turned this likeness to account in a very ingenious manner. They were both in the same Part, and both took up [in one lesson at any rate] the same standing-up. One of them, who knew his tolerably 270 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER well, went to the master and got through successfully ; on going out he met his brother, who was just going to say his, in great trepidation, as he was not prepared ; however, a bright idea struck the more fortunate brother : he changed his neck- cloth, tousled his hair, put a bit of sticking-plaster on his nose, went back, and said his lesson a second time on his brother's account with great eclat. School Life at Winchester College, by the Author of The Log of the Water-Lily, 1866. A 'Varying' I AM tempted to give one instance of such a ' varying.' l It belonged to an earlier time than mine the time when Decus et tutamen was adopted as the motto cut on the rim of the five- shilling pieces. The author of the ' varying ' in question had been ill with fever, and his head had been shaved, causing him to wear a wig. Decuscttutamen was the theme given. In a minute or two he was ready, stood up, and taking off his wig, said, ' Aspicite hos crines ! duplicem servantur in usum ! Hi mihi tutamen node ' putting the wig on wrong side outwards ; ' Dieque decus,' reversing it as he spoke the words. The memory of this ' varying ' lives or lived ! at Winchester. T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 119. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. IN OBITUM ' Immaturi, morte perernptus ' SCHOLAE WlNTON ALUMNI Undique dum Britones gaudent, Paeana canentes Quod maeret laceras Gallia victa rates, Nos numeros mutare et flebile condere carmen Nos subitb in lacrymas ire coegit amor. 1 Just before going out from morning or evening school at the end of the day's lesson, the ' informator ' would give a theme, and each boy prefect was expected there and then to compose a couple or two couple of epigrammatic lines on the spot and give them v ivd voce. These compositions were called ' varyings.' THE irefj,ire QUEST 271 Occidit heu puer immatura morte peremptus Quern Musae ornanmt ingenuusque pudor : Moenibus at procul a nostris Morbi ite nefandi ! Luridaque Autumni filia Febris, abi. Quin hue pulchra veni, Catherinae l in vertice nata Et semper nostros rit beato Salus ! A Wiccamical Chaplet, by George Huddesford, 1804. THE Wykehamist whose soul retains '/** Dim memories of his boyhood's days, Keeps, somewhere backward of his brains, The ' Pempe-book ' that ancient ' haze ' ; That surest of all lawful ways To gull the simple safe to score on Firm-built upon the classic phrase Of 7re/Lt7re Trporepov TOV fiwpov. C. D. Locock. ' Ballade of Red Tape ' in Olympian Echots. London, St. Catherine's Press, 1908. WHEN at the end of the summer holidays in that year, 1820, Mother I returned to College, again brought down to Winchester by my Onml)re11 father in his gig, I confess to having felt for some time a very desolate little waif. As I, at the time a child barely out of the nursery, look back upon it, it seems to my recollection that the strongest sense of being shoved off from the shore without guidance, help, or protection, arose from never seeing or speaking to a female human being. To be sure there was at the sick- house the presiding ' mother ' Gumbrell her name was, usually pronounced ' Grumble ' but she was not a fascinating repre- sentative of the sex. An aged woman once nearly six feet high, then much bent by rheumatism, rather grim and somewhat stern, she very conscientiously administered the prescribed 1 Mons Collegio vicinus, ubi ad Dies Festos Pubes Wiccamica se lusu indulgent. 272 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER ' black-dose and calomel pill ' to those under her care at the sick-house. . . . Tea was provided there for those ' continent,' instead of the usual breakfast of bread and butter and beer ; and I remember overhearing Mother Gumbrell, oppressed by an unusual number of inmates, say, ' Talk of Job, indeed ! Job never had to cut crusty loaves into bread and butter 1 ' I saw the old woman die ! I was by chance in the sick-house kitchen in after years, when a prefect and ' Dicky Gumbrell,' the old woman's husband, who had been butler to Dean Ogle, and who by special and exceptional favour was allowed to live with his wife in the sick-house, was reading to her the story of Joseph and his Brethren, while she was knitting a stocking, and sipping occasionally from a jug of college beer which stood between them, when quite suddenly her hands fell on to her lap and her head on to her bosom, and she was dead ! while poor old Dicky quite unconsciously went on with his reading. T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 119-20. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. 4 Damme THE brother of this chaplain l was the manciple of the college, Hopkins' an( j was 1^0^^ among us as ' Damme Hopkins ' from the following circumstance. His manner was a quaint mixture of pomposity and bonhomie, which made a conversation with him a rather favourite amusement with some of us. Now the manciple was a very well-to-do man, and was rather fond of letting it be known that his independent circumstances made the emoluments of the place he held a matter of no importance to him. ' Indeed,' he would say, ' I spoke to the Bishop [the Warden] a few months ago of resigning, but the Bishop says to me, " No, no, Damme, Hopkins, you must keep your place." ' T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 140. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. 1 A ' sporting chaplain,' one of the three College chaplains who were also minor canons of the Cathedral. WHIFFS 273 Tis the place and all around it as of old each hungry boy 'Goto' Octo, sugared bun, confound it, put me down a bob La Croix. Many a morn at your familiar cage I 've gazed with longing eyes, Whilst my olfactory organs caught the whiff of kidney pies. His ices, though the smallest, are the best In all the realm produced ; what recreant boy Shall dare prefer e'en Gunter to La Croix ? The Wykehamist, June 24, 1910. DURING the war Winchester had been one of the dep6ts of Boiled Bef French prisoners, and the beef in question [boiled beef J was then given to them. When there were no more Frenchmen it was given to twenty-four old women who were appointed to do the weeding of the college quadrangles. It must be understood that this arrangement was entirely spontaneous on the part of the boys, though it would have been quite out of the question for any individual to say that he for his part would eat his own beef. T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 102. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. THE interesting event of a vacancy having occurred at New 'Speedyman College, whether by death, marriage, or the acceptance of a living, was announced by the arrival of ' Speedyman ' at Winchester College. ' Speedyman,' in conformity with immemorial usage, used to bring the news on foot from Oxford to Winchester. How well I remember the look of the man, as he used to arrive with all the appearance of having made a breathless journey, a spare, active-looking fellow, in brown cloth breeches and gaiters covered with dust. Of course, letters telling the facts had long outstripped ' Speedyman.' But with the charming and reverent spirit of conservatism, which in those days ruled all things at Winchester, ' Speedyman ' made his journey on foot all the same ! T. A. Trollope. What I Remember, i. 99. R. Bentley and Son, 1887. S 274 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER THE TIME is OUT OF JOINT' The vagaries LAST night, while in the silvery west Jove's planet leaned on Venus' breast, While from New Field I heard complain Sad ghosts of trees untimely slain A voice familiar, yet estranged, Came floating thro' the belfry-bars, Then over Meads and Flint Court ranged, Then shivered to the stars. Sadly it stammered, ' I I I 'm The oldest living Wykehamist ! First but not last upon the list Of those who don't know time ! On the old lines I stand, and yet, Though nought I learn, and nought forget,- All that I murmur, day or night, Tells of a chaos infinite, An oracle of meaning strange, An echo of eternal change. Long since, I thrilled thro' all my wheels, When College bells rang courtly peals, When Charles and Nelly, worthy pair, Came down to taste the Hampshire air And show the sad land, sick with strife, The real gaiety of life. And I have seen Rebellion red In College Chambers rear her head ! I saw the young conspiracy Tear up the flints and bear them high To be their plot's artillery I saw the puzzled redcoats stand Bewildered at the youthful band, COLLEGE CLOCK 275 And more than half inclined to slay The senseless Don who stirred the fray. Strange life, strange tricks of young and old I have beheld, and yet behold Strangest, perhaps of all, Is the new Punch-and-Judy sight, The queer lie daubed in black and white Upon the Chapel wall ! Alas, with long experience There comes as well a weakened sense Of time and tune ; I mix And muddle up my chimes and quarters, And sorely I mislead the porters ! Think not too hardly of me, when At Ten-Fifteen I stammer Ten, At the Half-Past proclaim the Hour, Lisp out a casual Three, at Four, Or hiccup Five, at Six ! I stand at least (give me my due !) As to your fathers, so to you, A type of the Wiccamic mind, Until some old time dimly true, Somewhat bewildered at the new, And always just behind ! Therefore forbear to chide my ways Bethink you how my many days My works corrode and canker (This joke is Hood's a modern bard !) Tho' my offence is rank, 'tis hard If your offence be rancour ! I do beseech you, young and old, Bear with me till my tale is tolled 1 276 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Bear with me spare to mock, O College Prefect, wise and good ! O College Junior, gay of mood ! Your friend, THE COLLEGE CLOCK.' The Wykehamist, February 1892. AVE ATQUE VALE VERSES WRITTEN IN A GROVE AT WINCHESTER COLLEGE ; Farewei ' O DRYAD, whose protection gives to tow'r These aged elms (with leafy heads around, Which spread glad refuge from the furious rays Of Phoebus, darting more malignant fire In fell conjunction with the raging star Of Sirius :) farewel, thy grove ! where oft Th' unwilling muse I woo'd, or gave my soul To contemplation, nurse of thought, or fed With greedy pleasure on the muse's charms : That muse, who studious of her much lov'd sons, Wharton or Lowth, from Hippocrene brings The stream prolific, and has taught to flow In British numbers, who by nature lent. ... I go (Where conscious Isis rolls her ling'ring waves With admiration slow) to that fam'd dome Where he, who gall'd proud Gallia's stubborn neck Beneath the British yoke, drank deep the spring Of classic-knowledge, and matur'd his soul To seeds of high renown : his shady grove O may some pitying brother Dryad lend ! With secret pleasure there shall mem'ry oft Retrace thy silvan scenes ; shall paint, hi thought, AVE ATQUE VALE 277 Fair Cath'rine's verdant summit j or shall plunge, Eager, amid th' imaginary flood Of ItcMn's silver urn j or pensively Recall those happier softer hours, which flow With sorrow'd speed on friendship's balmy wings : Friendship, glad offspring of the virtuous heart : Friendship, whose dear remembrance e'er shall glow Deep in my faithful breast : to fancy's eye In green-clad beauty may each summit rise, Grateful as Cath'rine's gentle Isis flow Grateful as Itchin ; other groves supply The loss of thine divided friendship's wounds No skill can probe, no soothing med'cine cure. From a magazine entitled Miscellaneous Correspondence, etc. (ed. Benjamin Martin), vol. i., 1755 and 1756, p. 182. THE Spring shall visit thee again on leaving Itchen ! and yonder aged fane That casts its shadows on thy breast, (As if, by many winters beat, The blooming season it would greet) With many a straggling wild-flower shall be drest ! But I, amidst the youthful train That stray at ev'ning by thy side, No longer shall a guest remain To mark the Spring's reviving pride. I go not unrejoicing ; but who knows, When I have shar'd, O world, thy common woes, Returning I may drop some natural fears ; When these same fields I look around, And hear from yonder dome the slow bell sound, And think upon the joys that crown'd my stripling years ! The Rev. W. L. Bowles. On Leaving Winchester School, 1782. 278 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER 4 Looking WOULD I still wore the long black gown, In cloistral habit vested : Would that all thoughts and cares I rested, Dreaming on Twyford Down : Glad but to mark, How the clear lark, Singing, the sunlight breasted ! On Hills to lie, some endless hour, Watching the stream wind slowly Through verdant Water Meads, past holy Saint Cross, the greyheads' bower : While low Downs brood In quietude, And gentle melancholy. Here walked, by each fair river path, Good Brothers of the Angle : Whose sweet thoughts knew to disentangle Peace from the days of wrath : Here Walton went, Here Chalkhill spent Calm hours, untaught to wrangle. Here, beneath Winton trees, first breathed A faery lyre enchaunted : Ah, Collins ! at what cost was granted To thee the laurel, wreathed With faery flowers, At moonlit hours Plucked in wild woodlands haunted 1 LONG-LOST SINGERS 279 Still round the Cloisters, airs of Death Wander, and touch the dreamer : Music of Death, tired man's redeemer ! Rest thee, lie down I it saith. Who rested here, Death's lover were : Death's friend, not Death's blasphemer. Thy Browne, who saw the ages pass In funeral procession ; Whose eyes explored Death's vast possession j Was it thy holy grass, And Chauntry dim, First called on him To make his soul's Confession ? Whose face flashed there ? What voice was that, Voice, that comes back and lingers ? Whose hand touched mine with flying fingers ? Whose laugh is this, whereat Down the dim track Old joys come back And songs of long-lost singers ? Up Hills our years would find the climb, That grassy climb, grown steeper : We 'd rest in Trench ; and Trench was deeper, We 'd fancy, in our time : Then, passing Maze, To turn and gaze, Tranced, like a dreaming sleeper ! 28o IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The mountainous Cathedral grey ; College, so fairly towered ; And Wolvesey ruins ivy-bowered } And West Gate, far away : Silent and still, To gaze our fill, By memory overpowered ! Lionel Johnson. ' Winchester,' in Ireland and other Poems, Elkin Matthews, 1897. Passing out FROM old Wykeham's gates generation after generation pass out as the gladiatorial line filing before the ivory chair with the same pathetic legend on their lips : ' Morituri te salutant I ' Alma mater ! we who are passing from thy halls, thy home, thy shrine ; we, nourished with thy life, and taught by thy examples, and ripened to thy traditions ; we, just dying to boy- hood, salute thee ; to thee we owe a debt, a tear, a noble life. The Wykehamist, July 1879. Matri I WILL return to thee, dear grey mother, Set my life throbbing with thine once again, Burn with delight that regret cannot smother, Dally and joy with thee, yearn to remain. Fetters unite us which years will not sunder ; Woven with laughter and tears is each ring, Mirroring each myself, wide-eyed with wonder, Meeting the birth and the glow of my spring. Thou 'twas who taught me the rapture of living, Gave me to know and to worship the day, Mingled the gloom of young griefs in the giving, Glory of battle with scars of the fray. THE VALLEY OF TIME 281 Thine was the cup whence I drank to my measure, Nectar that cheers and sustains to the end, Man's highest privilege, perfectest pleasure, To give and to welcome the love of a friend. The Wykehamist. CREEPING backward through the valley of Time, Tracing the tangled skein of lost ways, Comes my sad soul, seeking with a rhyme, To build again a palace of dead days. Very faint at last comes the echo of voices Friendly voices, once loud in my ears ; So faint that scarcely my sad soul rejoices, But rather sighs, half gladly, half with tears. Out of the curious by-ways of memory, Come many ghosts. Hither come the pale doubt That quenched a flame of friendship, once so fiery, I had thought only Death could put it out. A crowd of faces are looking at me ; Most of these have I loved, all I have known. Whose face is that looking at me wistfully ? Can that be the boy's-face that was mine own ? Alfred Douglas. The Wykehamist, June 1893. A Dream of Winchester Daya Nos patriae fines, nos dulcia linquimm arva THESE hoary haunts, in which youth's rosy flower Budded and bloomed and faded, sanctified By countless human lives, vested with power That may not be denied ; ' NOB dulcia llnquimu! 282 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER The soul's calm harbour, where the curling wave Stills to the gentle swell, where the loud roar Murmurs and sings, which the same waters lave That dash upon the shore ; Downs, meads, and rivers, grown a part of me ; Faces, beloved, unloving, which have drawn My heart to them for an eternity, As twilight melts in dawn ; All these must fade from me. Forth I must fare Into the unknown world ; must leave the coast And strike to the mid sea, grey, cheerless, bare, Where many a bark is lost. * The past is gone j the past can be no more f The past hath done its work ; the past is fled. Time may flow on, but time cannot restore The life-breath to its dead. O sunset evenings, O thou peaceful hill, O mist on still St. Cross, O glorious fane ! Thou hen among her chickens, ye shall fill These eyes, this heart again ; But peace will not reign with you. Tho' I gaze O'er grassy sea specked with its human foam, Greeting the grey walls thro' the summer haze, They will not be my home. The Wykehamist, October 1890. THAT I WAS THERE 283 WINTER is fast receding ; T* 1 * w&u of an Old The Spring is in the air ; wykebamut Herbert is gently leading Hock Stapler from his lair. Whittier's lad is weeding, And oh ! that I was there. The old familiar faces Fill each familiar spot, Gracing with all their graces (Or such as they have got) The same delightful places, But I, alas ! do not ! Soon, with the ' flannelled ' season, Cometh the month of May 3 You will have ample reason Then to be blithe and gay : I shall be o'er the seas on Voyages far away. Summer will bring the ' willow ' (Oh ! may it bring me rhymes !) Mate and his Mate will pillow Their heads beneath the limes. I shall be o'er the billow Away in foreign climes ! Then when the year is dying, Winton will still be fair, E'en though the leaves be flying, E'en though the trees be bare ; The bard will still be sighing ' Oh 1 that I might be there ! ' 284 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Smoketh the year's last ember, Canvas is brown and bare ; You will enjoy December, Sixes will fill the air 1 I shall, alack ! remember, But I shall not be there. A. P. Herbert. ' The Wail of an Old Wykehamist,' in Poor Poems and Rotten Rhymes. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1910. AT atque FARE thee well, Winchester, we wander far, Thou standest ever the same ', We rush, swift as a heavenward voyaging star, Pass ; and become but a name. Our bones lie scattered in every place ; Where'er, midst our working we fall, Our lives are merged in the life of the race, Our days pass as shades cross a wall. But thou, mother, passest never away ; In starlight, sunshine, storm, O'er troubles and trials, day after day, Towers unshaken thy form. The Wykehamist, July 1893. A true DEAR WINTON I thou hast shown the love, * ood - bye That circles all thy sons, to me ; How can I ever hope to prove The deepening love I feel for thee ? O grant it still may flower and li ve Thy vision fades before my eyes Take it is all I have to give The truest of all true good-byes ! 29/7/98. R. W. Seton Watson. Scotland For Ever, etc. Edinburgh: David 4 Douglas,Ji898. DOMUM NIGHTS 285 OUR latest sunset gilds the dreaming vale, Domum Hlght To smile farewell the very shadows glow The far hills vanish : dewy slumber steals On silent meadows and the Itchen's flow. K. J. F. ' Domum Night,' in Poems. Wells, 1906. FRAUGHT with the sadness of a dying day, vale The sun's last gleam is loitering on the Hill, Wanning to gold the Chapel's lichened grey j And here in Meads some few are lingering still, To part reluctantly and pass away. Aye pass away, as others passed before, Familiar for a season to our eyes ; Then presently their place knows them no more. Now, when our time has come to snap the ties, 'Tis little wonder that our hearts are sore. Throughout the cloud and sun of six long years, The School has been a parcel of our life, Seen our perplexities and soothed our fears, Watched silently above our mimic strife, Joyed with our joy, and sorrowed with our tears. At every turn the place grows dearer yet, Associations crowding to the mind, Trifles which none of us will e'er forget In after life, with boyhood far behind, Seen in a golden haze with blind regret. Darkly as visions seen within a glass, Soft as the lilt of some forgotten rhyme, Those vanished scenes before our memory pass, The long cool after-light of Cloister Time, With shadows lying barred across the grass. 286 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Once more we listen to a sweet refrain, The music where the ball and willow clicks Once more we crowd round ' Canvases ' and strain Our lungs in cheering some victorious Six, Living the life we shall not li ve again. The great School eddies o'er its yearly blanks, Filling and wiping out their every trace ; And though we grieve to step from out the ranks, Our lines have fallen in a pleasant place j Let us remember this, and render thanks. Old heroes stretch their hands from out the past, Across the centuries their tones we hear, Saying, ' Our great traditions hold you fast,' Saying, ' Ye children of a later year, See that ye be not wanting at the last.' So let us part and step from out the ken Of School, and Youth, with all it has to give ; We shall remember and remembering then Endeavour thus to work and thus to live, That Wykeham's Manners make us also Men. J. L. Crommelin-Brown. Poems and Parodies. P. and G. Wells, Winchester, 1908. Ad AmicoB WHEN veils of mist are laid on Itchen's streams And phantom sea-gulls flicker in and out ; When Scholars pass in ghostly rows about Those solemn courts, our citadel of dreams : If old bones ache and winter's poniard seems More penetrating than it wont to be, Your golden platter's brave charactery Shall be my sun and warm me with its beams. AD AMICOS 287 Twelve years in College ! All the glory lives, The poor and weak things vanish. You and I Joint Scholars drank of Hippocrene and fed On hero-visions for our daily bread. Hail bright remembrancer ! But tell me why Age still accepts the gold and boyhood gives. M. J. Kendall. Lines written in acknowledgment of a gift of a silver dish after twelve years as ' Second Master ' in ' College,' 1899-1912. A FAREWELL GOOD luck attend you as you go, TO every And light whatever path you tread May your life ever onward flow, To high success and honour led ! Where'er you go, whate'er you do, We know you never will forget Winton's old kinship, strong and true What Wykehamist forgot it yet ? All we, your fellows, have the right Your new career to watch and bless j And, when you 've conquered in the fight, Fling wide the floodgates of success. July '97. R. W. Seton Watson. Scotland For Ever and Other Poems. Edinburgh : David Douglas, 1898. INDEX A. (A. P. Herbert), 213. Abbott, Dr., 240. Abingilon, 64. Acworthy, John, 41. Adams, H. C., 160, 235, 237. Alfred, King, 4, 17-19, 88, 116, 121, 139. Allingham, William, 77, 80, 92, 94, 104-5, 121, 216, 267. Alresford, 136. Andrewes, Lancelot (Bishop of Win- chester), 39. Anne of Denmark (Queen-Consort of James l.)> 44- Anne, Queen, 86. Anothen (spring on Twyford Down), 8. Apollo, 3-4. Arnold, Matthew, 263. Thomas, 255-6. Arthur, King, 12-14, 87, 135, 141 ; his Round Table, 13-14. 87, 135, 141 ; his Hall, 14, 87, 141, 240. Athelstan, King, 20, 20 ., 21, 23-4, 36, 46. Austen, Jane, 69, 181-2. Austen- Leigh, J. E., 69, 182. Avington, 48. Aviragus, II, II . BARCHESTER, v, vi, 106. Barchester Towers, v. Barker, Lieutenant Fred G., 198. Barset, The Last Chronicle of, v. Bath, 24., 52-3. Beaufort, Henry, Cardinal (Bishop of Winchester), 119, 135, 137-8, 246. Beaumont and Fletcher, 222. Beecher, Ward, 130. Benham, Canon, 79, 87, 89, 92, 117. genson, F. R., 224. Berkshire, 1 5. Besant, Sir Walter, 78. Bevis, Mount, 67. Bigg, Warden, 153. Bilson, Thomas (Bishop of Winchester), 226. Bingham, 197. 'Bob, Old' (see Richards, the Rev. Charles). Bolton, Duke of, 85. Boswell, 68. Bourne Gate, n. Bowles, Rev. W. L., 52, 54, 84, 246. Mr., 227. Bramston, A. R., 4, 6, 63, 233. Bridewell, the County, 19, 78. the City, 78. Browne, Thomas, 147, 251, 279. Bruce, Thomas, Lord (fourth Earl of Ailes- bury), 231. Bumpus, T. Francis, 119. Burney, Charlotte, 69. Dick, 68-9. Fanny (Madame D'Arblay), 138-9. Burton, Dr., 153, 159, 168. Busby, Dr., 250. CAER GWENT, 3, 92. (of Monmouthshire), 13. Calleva Atrebatum, 12. Camden, John, 37. Camelot, 3. Canterbury, 9. Cathedral, 116. Canute, King, 139. Capital of Wessex, 4. of England, 8, 62. Caractacus (see Aviragus), 1 1 n, Carlyle, Thomas, 48, 290 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Caroline, Queen, 55. 'Castlewood,' 109. 'Castle wood, My Lady,' 109-112. Caswallon, 98. Cecil, Sir Robert, 44. Cerdic, 5, 13, 126. Chalkhill, John (Poet), 278. Chamberlayne, William, 56. Charles I., 39, 47, 65, 136. Charles II., 48-52, 85-9, 136, 139, 274. Charteris, Hon. Evan, 169. Chaucer, Geoffrey, 150. Cheriton Down, 1 21. Chitty, Herbert, 173. Claudius, Emperor, u. Cobbett, William, 19, 133, 216. Colebrand, 19-23. Collins, William (Poet), 62, 132 ., 148, 247, 251, 252-3, 278. Colombiers, Philip de, 28, 30. Complin, Mr., 48. Conan Doyle, Sir A., 113. Constans, the monk, II n. Constantine, Emperor, II n., 12. Cotton, John Daniel, 173 . County Hall, the, 87. Coventry, George William, eighth Earl of, 170. Cowper, William, 250. Cox, George, 251. 1 Crabtree Parva,' 105. Cressy, Battle of, 36. Crommelin-Brown, J. L., I2O, 185-6, 213, 286. Cromwell, Oliver, 4, 39, 47-8, 115, 138. Cross, the City or Butter, 57, 79, 91-3. Crowe, William, 132, 252. Curie, Walter (Bishop of Winchester), 1 1 6, 226. DANEMARK, the, 20. Dayrell, Dr., 65. Deane, Christopher, 175-6, 209, 242. 'Deane, Colonel,' 175. De Blois, Henry (Bishop of Winchester), 90-1, 101-2. Dennis, Rev. John, 140-1. Devonshire, Duke of, 170. 1 Dick, Mrs.,' 227 n. Domesday Book, 26. Dumuni, 194, 199-208. Day, 178. Night, 285-6. Douglas, Lord Alfred, 281. Draper, W. H., 241. Drayton, Michael, 14. Dummer, Mr. (of Cranbury Park), 92 ;/. Diirer, Albrecht, 76. Durham Cathedral, 116. EADGYTH (mother of Harold), 57. Eboras, 9. Edgar, King, 24. Edington, William (Bishop of Winchester), 116, 119, 130-1. Edmonds, Sir Thomas, 43. Edred, King, 139. Edward the Confessor, 7, 25, 27. Edward the Elder, 24. Edward ill., 36-7, 46, 133. Edward vn., 60. Edwy, King, 24. Egbert, King, 15, 115, 139. Elfrida, 24. Elcho, David Wemyss, styled Lord, 168- 70. Elizabeth, Queen, 38, 41, 225-6. Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 102-3, I 39- Emma, Queen, 25-6, 138 n. Ensor, R. C. K., 182. Esdaile, Arundell, 19. Esmond, Henry, 109-12. Essex, Countess of, 136. Ethelbald, King, 15. Ethelbert, King, 15 (bis). Ethelwald, Earl, 24 n. Ethelwulf, King, 24. Eton, 228. Match, 208-9. Evelyn, John, 49, 54, 135-6. Ewald, Alex. Chas., 170. Exeter, Brownlow, ninth Earl of, 170. FAIRFAX, GRIFFITH, 62. ' Falstaff, John,' 227. Fashion, Mr., 42. Fearon, W. A. (Archdeacon of Winches- ter), 122. INDEX 291 Fenner, Edward (Judge of the King's Bench), 43. Fletcher, Thomas, 50, 53. Foster, John, 41. Fox, Richard (Bishop of Winchester), 91, 119, 137,226. French prisoners, 89, 273. Frere, W. H., 134. GABELL, DR., 69, 174, 222, 249, 255, 257-8. Gaimar, Geffrei Maistre, 18. Gardiner, Stephen (Bishop of Winchester), 137. Gay, John (Poet), 124. George, Prince (Consort of Queen Anne), 86. George in., 55, 230. George v., 60. Gifford, Mr., 42. Gloucester, Robert of, 11-12, 15, 25-7. Goddard, Dr., 255-6. Greville, Hon. C. F., 140. Guidorius, 10. Gumbrell, Mother, 271. Gwynn, Nell, 52, 86, 274. HACKWOOD, 85. Halle, John, vi. Hamilton, James, sixth Duke of, 170. Hammond, Colonel, 48. Hampshire, 9, 15, 59. Hampton Court, 87. Hardicanute, King, 138. Hardy, Thomas, 109. Harpsfield, Nicholas, 155. Harley, Edward, 142. Harris, James (first Earl of Malmesbury), 253- Mrs., 228-9. Rev. William, 53 ., 136. Harrison, Major, 48. 'Hatchway, Lieut. Jack,' 161, 163, 167. Haverfield, F.; 12. Haverstock Hill, 79. Hawkins, C. H., 223. Dr. William, 54. Henry I., 27, 138. Henry vn., 138, 146. Herbert, A. P., 177, 284. Herefordshire, 83. Hermit's Tower, 10. Hickes, Michael, 46. Higgins, Sir Thomas, 136. 'Hills,' 96- 100, 175, 177, 190-5, 278-9. ' Hiram, John,' vi. ' Hiram's Hospital,' vi. Hoadly, Benjamin (Bishop of Winchester), 90. Holland, Clive, 9, 122. Hook, Robert, 256-7. Walter Farquhar (Dean of Wor- cester), 222, 256-7. Hoole, John, 222. Hopkins, ' Damme,' 272. Home, Robert (Bishop of Winchester), 41. Houses, 179, 210, 224. Howard Smith, C., 227 . Huddesford, George, 142, 197, 205, 240, 267, 271. Humbert, Rev. L. M., 101-2, 104. Huntingford, Warden (Bishop of Here ford), 174, 244, 257, 272. Second Master, 229. Hyda, Liber de, 20 n. Hyde, St. Bartholomew, 19. Meadow, 19, 139. Abbey, 20 ., 32, 34, 113 ., 139. INNS 'Black Swan,' the, 112-13. 'George,' the, 80, no, 173, 175. 'White Hart,' the, 174, 228. ' Fleur de Lys,' the, 174. ' Crown and Anchor,' the, 239-40. Isis, river, 276-7. Itchen, river, 4, 5, 7, 37, 39, 51, 59, 63, 66, 81-4, 89, 96-7, 99-100, 102, 125, 127, 177, 191, 193, 195-9, 246, 277, 286. Ives, William, 245. JACOB, W. H., 11. James I., 43-5, 65. James n., 54 ; as Duke of York, 86. Jeans, G. E., 17. John, King, 105. -'9- IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Johnson, Christopher, 154 ;/. Lionel, 4, 145, 149, 179, 252. Dr. Samuel, 56, 68-9, 253. 'Jolter, Mr. Jacob,' 160-4, 167-8. Jones, Inigo, 139. Joseph, H. W. B., 233. KEATS, JOHN, 69-77, 266. Ken, Thomas, 39, 51-3, 251. King's Gate, 10, 57, 115. King's House, the, 85-8, 136. Kirby, Mr. , 42. T. F. 226 n., 227 . Kitchin, Dean, 5, 122. LACON WATSON, E. H., 176, 181, 209, 242. La Croix ('Octo'), 69, 273. Langton, Stephen (Archbishop of Canter- bury), 138. Thomas (Bishop of Winchester), 91. Leland, John, 10-11, 27. Leroy, A. C, 4, 6, 63, 233. Lichfield Cathedral, 116. Lincoln Cathedral, 1 16. Lipscombe, C., 249. Lipscomb, William, 107, 208. Lisle, Alice, 87. Locock, C. D., 271. London, 7. Louis, King of France, 35. Louis xiv., 87. Lowth, Dr. William, 153, 155, 185, 221, 247. 276. Lucius, King, 12, 137. Lucy, Godfrey de (Bishop of Winchester), 119. Ludgershall, 29-30. Lud-Hudybras, 9. Lydford, Mr., 69. MAGNENTIUS, u . Malleson, Colonel, 154. Marshall, John the, 28-30. William the, 29, 34-5. the Younger, 32, 34. Mary, Queen (Tudor), 40. Mary, Queen (consort of George v.), 60. Massinger, Philip, 222. Matilda, Empress, 27-30, 36. Maud, Queen (consort of Stephen), 28 n. Mayor of Winchester, the, 41-2, 48, 72, 95- ' Mare,' 279. Meggott, Dean, 52, 54. Metropolis, the Saxon, 16. Milner, Dean, 12, 32, 46, 131. 1 Milkhole,' 197-8. Milton, John, 83-4, 222, 233, 266. Moberly, Dr., 224 n. Moleutius, Dunwallo, IO. Monmouth, Geoffrey de, n . Moore, Sir John ( Recorder of Winchester), 44. Rev. William, 8, IOO, 146, 183-4, 187-8, 190, 195, 199, 215. Morley, George (Bishop of Winchester), 54 ., 65, 89-91, 226. Morsehead, E. D. A., 70, 135, 224, 263-6. Murray, John, 169-70. NECKHAM, ALEXANDER, 36. Nevers, Comte de, 35. New Forest, the, 85. New Minster, the, 17, 116. Nichols, John, 43. Normandy, 3. Nunna Minster, 17, 116. OCTAVIUS, CESAR, n . Ogle, Sir William, 48. Oliver's Battery, 4, 59. Organa, Winchester, 133-4. Osborne, Lloyd (L. O.), 80. Otway, Thomas, 83, 132, 147, 22O-I, , 251. Owen, John ('The British Martial'), 232. Oxenbridge, Robert (Sheriff of Hamp- shire), 42. Oxford, vi, 37, 131, 133, 139, 152, 260-1, 273- Earl of, 66-7, 90, 137. PALMER, ROUNDELL (first Earl of Sel- borne), 40, 259-60. INDEX 293 Paulet, William (Marquis of Winchester), 42. Pembroke, Earl of. See Marshall, Wil- liam the. Penthouse, the, 91. Penton, Mr., 55. Philip of Spain, 39. Phillips, 83. Piazza, the, 91. Pickle, Peregrine,, 160-8. Piers the Ploughman, 94-5. ' Pipes, Tom,' 161, 163-7. Poictiers, Battle of, 36. Pope, Alexander, 84. C. M., 227 n. Portland, Lord Treasurer, 137. Portsmouth, 78. ' Pot,' 197-8. Potenger, John, 154 . Poulter, Rev. E., 58. Prince of Wales, the, 231. QUEENSBOROUGH (for Queensberry), Duke of, 170. Quiller Couch, Sir A. T., 196, 207. RACE-COURSE (Winchester), 77. Radcliffe, Dr. John, 156. Raleigh, Sir Walter, 45-6. Rendall, M.J. (Headmaster of Winchester College), 227, 266, 287. Rennell, Dean, 52 ., 140. Richard I., 31. Richard II., 37, 146. Richards, Rev. Charles, 113-14. Richardson, Rev. George, 227 . Ridding, George (Bishop of Southwell), 1 88, 203, 214, 240-4. Lady Laura, 189, 214, 241-2. Robbins, Old, 58. Round, J. H., 26. Round Table, the, 13, 87, 135. Rudborne, Thomas, 12. ST. BARTHOLOMEW, Church of, 19. St. Catherine, 99, 192. St. Catherine's Chapel, 99. Hill, 39-40, 57, 59, 63, 66, 83, 94, 96-100, 108, 132, 146, 159, 190,277. St. Cross, vi, 39, 57, 59, 65, 68, 71, 75, 76, 83, 85, 94, 100-104, 190, 278, 282. ' St. Cuthbert, Church of,' v, 105-6. St. Giles, Chapel of, 26. Fair of, 94-5. St. Giles's Hill, 26, 80, 94-5, 175. St. Grimbald, 19. St. John's Hospital, 57. St. Lawrence, 93. Church of, 92. St. Michael, 105. Church of, 10. Gate of, 10. St. Swithun, 89, 105, 118-19, 123, 130. Arch of, 6. Church of, v, 105. St. Thomas, Church of, 108. St. Tristram, 13. Salisbury, 56, 64. Cathedral, v, 116, 122-3. Earl of, 33-4. Trinity College, vi. Samlet, 85. Seamour (Seymour), Sir Henry, 41. Seton Watson, R. W., 211, 284, 287. Shaftesbury, 9. Earl of, 56. Lord, 229-30. Shakespeare, William, 137, 150, 220, 222-3. Shawford (near Winchester), 83. Shirbourne, 15. Shrewsbury, Earl of, 43-4, 46. Shuttleworth, 263. Shuttleworth, D. N., 172. Silchester, 12. Silkstead, Thomas (Prior of Winchester), 136. Sixes, 209-10. Smith, Sydney, 253-5. William (Treasurer of the Ordnance), 252. Rev. W. P., 152. Smollett, Tobias, 168. Soke, the, 77, 89. Somerville, William, 132, 250. Southampton (Hampton), 14, 64, 65, 71, 78, 90, 100. 294 IN PRAISE OF WINCHESTER Southampton Water, 63. ' Speedyman,' 273. Spenser, 13, 150, 266. Spithead, 86. Stainton, J. A., 227 . Stanley, A. P. (Dean of Westminster), 255-6- Stephen, King, 28 ., 36, 46, 101. Stephens, W. R. W. (Dean of Winchester), 217, 222, 259. Stevenson, R. L. (R. L. S.)i 80. Stratford, Dr. William, 142. Streets College Street, 58, 69, 152, 175. Great Minster Street, 115. High Street, 16, 75-7, 79'8o, 91, 107, 11$, 119, 230. Jewry Street, 79. Station Road, 79. 4 Stuckling,' 177. TAYLOR, JOHN (the Water-Poet, 27, 46, 64, 107. Taylor, Mrs., 227. ' Tempe,' 193. Tessofthe D' Urbervitles, 109. Thessaly, 193. Thackeray, W. M., 112. Thomson, James, 132. Tichborne, Mr., 42. Sir Benjamin, 45. Town Hall, the, 17. Townsend, Charles, 16, 122, 208. Tow Row, College, 225-7. Trelawney, Jonathan (Bishop of Win- chester), 90, 156-7. 'Trench, '279. Trollope, Anthony, v, 1 06, 216 ., 260-2. his Autobiography. T. A., 59, 96, 140, 174-5. 177, 191, 218, 245, 250, 261, 266, 270, 272-3. 'Trunnion, Commodore,' 160-1, 164, 167-8. Mrs., 1 60. ' Trusty Servant, the,' 267-9. Tuckwell, W., 158. Turner, Sharon, 139. Tusher, Mr. Thomas, 109-12. Twyford, 84, 229. Down, 8 ., 278. UVEDAI.L, WILLIAM, 41. VARLEY, REV. TELFORD, 15. Venta, 3, 7, 13, 47, 88, 141. WALCOTE, 109. Walcott, M. E. C., loo, 124, 173, 208. Walford, John Desborough (first Mathe- matical Master of Winchester College), 223. Walkelin (Bishop of Winchester), Il6, 118-19. Waller, Sir William, 47. Walmysley, Thomas (Judge of Court of Common Pleas), 43. Walpole, Horace, 68, 87-8, 137. Waltheof, 5, 26-7. Waltham (Bishop's), 5. Walton, Izaak, 54, 83, 85, 278. Warden, The, v, vi. Warton, Dr. Joseph, 68, 159, 207, 221, 228-9, 231, 245-9, 250, 253-4, 266, 276. Thomas, 13, 66, 80, 97, 132, 141, 179-80, 205, 221, 266-7. Warwick, Guy, Earl of, 19-24. Waynflete, William (Bishop of Win- chester), 119, 137. ' Weeders, The,' 273. Wells' Shop, 175. Wemyss Castle, 168. Wesley, John, 54-5, 137. Wessex, 4, 9, 57, 107. Weste, Sir Thomas, 42. Westgate, 11, 57, 76-7, 79, 87, 107, 280. Whately, Archbishop, 263. White City, 3, 8, 16. Whitehead, William (Poet), 153-4. Whitman, Walt, 213. Wight, Isle of, 66. William the Conqueror, 57. William Rufus, King, 27, 87, 137-8. William III., 87. Williams, Rev. David (' Gaffer '), 250, 257. Winchester: History, 3-60; Topography, 61-107; In Fiction, 107-14. INDEX 295 Winchester Castle, 24 . , 28 w. , 47-8, 88-9. Cathedral, 115-42, 5-8, 12, 17, 38-9, 51, 54, 60, 64, 71, 79-80, 85, 97, 105, 108,110- 1 2, 280; The Close, 116, 119-20, 152 ; Dean and Prebendaries, 157. College, 145-287, 5. 7, 38-9, 42, 5 1 , S3 > S9-6o, 80, 108, 178-9, 280; Chambers, 159, 274; Chamber Court, 150, 187, 274; Chantry, 145, 279; Chapel, 150, 155, 182-7, 275, 285 ; Clock, 274-6 ; Cloisters, 145, 279 ; Com- moners, 179, 191 ; Fellows, 156-7 ; Hall, 191 ; Meads, 177, 206, 274 ; Old Com- moners, 158; School, 155-6; Warden and Fellows, 157. Wintoncester, 107. Wintonians, 30-1, 138. Wolsey, Cardinal, 63, 90. Wolvesey Palace, 10, 17, 57, 80, 89-91, 115, 280. Wood, Christopher, 7, 23, 93, 101, 118, 133, 236, 269. Western, 259 n. William Page (Lord Hatherley), 257. Woodstock, 44. Wooll, John, 14-15, 24, 28, 47, 51. Wordsworth, Christopher, 154-6, 182, 218. Worthy (King's), 77. Wren, Sir Christopher, 68, 85, 87, 88. Wykeham, William of, 5, 37-40, 53, 71, 81, 97, 99, "8-20, 131-3, 137, 138-9, 147, 153, 174, 193, 199, 225-6, 232-3, 235-7, 239-40, 247, 251, 280. YOUNG, EDWARD, 84, 132, 247, 251. York Cathedral, 116, 139. Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. ?EB17ld7/ Form L9-50m-ll,'50 (2554)444 THTC T.TOPAPV