The Oxford of the Monks.
BUT the Oxford that was enclosed by the strong walls and towers that protected it was not merely a labyrinth of narrow streets. Though the beautiful colleges of later days were not yet founded, there were large and fine old churches and priories within the walls; and in the meadows outside, the stately Augustinian Abbey of Osney, and the Cistercian Abbey of Rewley. And there were houses belonging to the great abbeys in other parts of England, to which their monks were sent up for study at Oxford; and there was the royal palace of Beaumont, the birthplace of Richard Cœur de Lion; and the great houses of the wealthy barons, and of the Knights Hospitaillers, and of the rich citizens.
So that Oxford was already becoming a city of palaces, and some of the peculiar beauty of later Oxford was but a reproduction of the beauty of olden days. When we walk under the elms of Christ Church meadow, and along the green aisles of Magdalene water walks, we can imagine the “pleasant meadow walks planted with elms “which surrounded the magnificent abbeys of older Oxford, “which were very pleasant, both in respect of the chinking rivulets running about them, as also for the shady groves and walks encompassing them.”
For these abbeys were amongst the most magnificent, not in England only, but in all Christendom, and the monks lived in state and splendor, exercising a charity which truly began at home, “for,” says the Chronicle, “thus we see whatsoever heart could wish, these monks did enjoy, and so far did they proceed, that considering the strictness of their rule which chiefly bound them to their cloister, they did, both to exercise their bodies and make the tediousness of their life seem more pleasant, expend much time and money in finishing of pleasant walks by the river’s side, as also orchards and arbours that were divided with cunning meanders, as also fish-ponds, dovecots, and what not.”
And in the quiet cloisters of New College and of Magdalene we see revived the ancient cloisters of the convents, where on wet days, or in the heat of summer, the monks took their daily walks, and made their processions at holy seasons.
But scarcely a trace now remains of these monastic palaces to remind modern Oxford that once they existed.
In the century at the end of which Richard Rolle went up to Oxford, the great buildings had grown up on all sides. It was when Richard was nine years old that the bones of S. Frideswide were removed from the old priory to the stately shrine where they still repose. And Osney, the great abbey of the Austin monks, had been rebuilt with marvelous splendor just before the birth of Richard, with an abbey church “excelling in a more than ordinary fashion, and not only the envy of other religious houses in England, but also beyond the seas; being the admiration of foreigners that came to the university, by reason of the exquisiteness and variety of every window, of the pillars and statues, and also by reason of two stately towers, inviting those outlanders that were ingenious in draft to copy it forth.”
There did Richard Rolle look with awe at the figures of saints and kings, not yet, as afterward described, of “antique and venerable aspect,” but even whilst new and unstained by time, standing in solemn grandeur in the dim light of the windows, “in every pane of which was depicted by the fancy of the limner the bishops and abbots” who ranked with the saints and kings.
And the Abbot of Osney, who lived in royal state, was a Baron in Parliament, who gave daily doles of bread and meat to multitudes of the poor and to pilgrims. So that when Henry III, had once commanded that 10,000 poor people should be brought to him to receive alms, and it was told him there were not so many to be found in the whole province, he answered, “That is wonderful! are not all ye sufficient to gather 10,000 when the Abbot of Osney can gather together 15,000 at his beck? “How came this stately abbey, with its rich revenues, to rise from the meadows of the Isis? There, in the church, on the north side of the high altar, was a stone image of the “pious foundress,” and in the wall of the arch over her tomb was a painting to tell the tale of her pious act. Thus is it recorded in the Chronicle: ―
“A noble lady, Editha Forne, sometime the mistress of King Henry I., and later the wife of Robert d’Oilly, was wont to recreate and solace herself in the pleasant meadows near the strong Castle of Oxford where she lived, and of which her husband’s uncle was the builder.
“And it came to pass, as upon an evening she with her attendants walked by the river’s side, she beheld a great company of pies gathered together on a tree, making a hideous noise with their chattering, which she, beholding, did with slight notice pass it by for that time; but the next evening, walking that way again with her maidens, as she did afterward the third time, found again the pies on the same tree, and making the like noise as before.”
The Chronicle having informed us that Editha was “a woman given to no less superstition than credulity,” further relates that she became aware that it was to her the pies were chattering so eagerly, “with which she was much perplexed, and wondered what the meaning might be.” She therefore, on returning home, sent for her confessor, one Radulphus, a canon of S. Frideswyde’s, and demanded of him what it was the pies desired to tell her.
“And Radulphus,” continues the Chronicle (“the wiliest pye of all,” adds the copyist) “told her he could not directly resolve her at that time, but if she would walk there again the next day, he would wait upon her, and view the matter himself, and then give her an exact account.
“That time being come, they all walked the same way, where they found the pies again as before, and making the like noise. Radulphus seemed at the present to be amazed, but after mature deliberation told her, ‘O madam, these are no pies, but so many poor souls in Purgatory, that do beg and make all this complaint for succor and relief, and they, knowing you to be pitiful, do direct their clamors to you, hoping that by your charity you would bestow something both worthy of their relief, as also for the welfare of yours and your posterity’s souls, as your husband’s uncle did in founding the college and church of S. George.’
“These words being finished, she replied, ‘And is it so indeed? now, depardieu, if old Robin my husband will concede to my request, I shall do my best endeavor to be a means to bring these wretched souls to rest.’
“And thereupon, relating the whole matter to her husband, did so much, by her continual and frequent importunities to him, bring the business about.”
And thus the great abbey arose, to be rebuilt and enlarged by means of another “wily pye” during the thirty years preceding the birth of Richard Rolle.
For in the year 1247 the Pope’s legate “did by his writing, dated at this place the 4th of May, in the fourth year of Pope Innocent IV., proclaim forty days’ indulgence and forgiveness of sins to all that would confer something toward the sumptuous building then going forward at Osney. Whereupon many charitable people, upon those propositions, did strive who should outgo each other in gifts.”
Nor was the sumptuous abbey the only possession of the Austin monks at Oxford. The Priory of S. Frideswide, which had been burnt in the days of Cœur de Lion, had been rebuilt with great magnificence in the reign of King John. The monks had also their colleges of S. George and of S. Mary. In the motley crowd that threaded the narrow streets of Oxford were these monks to be seen, in a dress which must have recalled the “chattering pies.” It was a long white coat, a linen surplice to the knees, with a short black cloak and little hood.
There were also the black monks of the Order of S. Benedict, who had their college, called Gloucester College, which Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, had built for his private house; but after it had been tenanted by Knights Hospitalers, and then by white friars, it was made into a college or “nursery” for the black monks of S. Peter’s Abbey at Gloucester. And Richard Rolle must have been a looker on at the treat inception feast held there in the year 1298.
And whilst he was at Oxford, he saw the great new buildings rising up, which the black monks were founding for “nurseries” tor the Benedictines of Westminster Abbey, Ramsey, Winchcombe, Glastonbury, and other great abbeys of their order, such as St. Alban’s, Reading, Canterbury, and Norwich. And their building of Durham College was also only just completed.
And again there were the white monks, or Cistercians, who, after having built the magnificent Abbey of Rieuvalx in Yorkshire, and Waverley Abbey in Surrey, and others beside, began to live in luxury and idleness, so that they were noted for their evil ways.
“For at the first,” says the Chronicle, “they had practiced great poverty and strictness of life, and refused all things that savoured of the world, living by the labor of their hands. But in time, when they had fished good possessions and fair habitations, they threw away their nets, and betook themselves to several sorts of vice, as covetousness, robbing the poor, profaning the Sabbath, and high feeding. And this their wicked course of life having come to the knowledge of Pope Honorius III., he caused a council to be made up of this order, and to assemble at Oxford, so as to reform their abuses.”
And shortly before the birth of Richard Rolle, about fifty years after this council, they became desirous to regain their repute, not only as to their behavior, but their learning. And to encourage them in this reformation did Edmund Plantagenet, Earl of Cornwall, build for them, in the year 1280, a stately abbey near the Abbey of Osney, and also by the riverside; and which, like Osney, “was encompassed with rivulets, pleasant walks, and fish-ponds.”
This great Abbey of Rewley was one of the most beautiful of the abbeys of Christendom, and no doubt in the details of its architecture resembled the monastic college of Ashridge, also founded by Edmund Earl of Cornwall, and completed in the year 1285, three or four years after the completion of Rewley.
And besides these great abbeys and colleges of the monks, there were other large and beautiful houses, which were rising up on the banks of the Isis since the great era in the history of the Roman Church in England, known as the Coming of the Friars.
The first to arrive in England had been the Dominican, or black friars, mendicants, and preachers. It was in the year 1224 that they first came in sight of the city of scholars. “And these said friars, on seeing the city before them, prayed to God with hands lifted up to Heaven, that through His mercy they might be received with courtesy by the Oxford students. And at their entrance they applied themselves to the grandies of the university, and to the canons of S. Frideswyde’s and of Osney.”
And it would seem that their “learned parts in philosophy and divinity” won them favor with the grandies, and their “simple and saint-like carriage” with the canons.
“At length diving into the favor of all persons in these parts, they obtained a seat in the Jewry, to the end that by their exemplary carriage and gifts of preaching the Jews of Oxford might be converted to the Christian faith.”
And later they removed to a “pleasant isle,” where they had larger schools, called “Theological and Philosophical,” and a library large and full of books, large and beauteous which was finished in the year 1262.
“For,” says the Chronicle, “they finding benefactors, and gaining worldly pelf, acquired these larger habitations by their craft and industry, and the subtle dealings whereby they procured riches from their admirers,” and thus they built this church, fair and stately, with cloisters and schools.
“And in their schools,” adds the Chronicle, “did they buzz in the ears of their admirers upstart notions in philosophy and divinity.”
In their first house in the Jewry was the “Mad Parliament” held, in the year 1238. In their church on the isle was buried in 1312 The headless body of Piers Gaveston.
And after the black friars there came the Gray friars, otherwise Franciscans or Minorites—mostly Italian, though three of their priests were English. In the year 1224, sent by Francis their founder, did they land in England, and in that same year they appeared at Oxford. Thus is their story related.
The two English friars, Richard Ingeworth and Richard Devon, “taking their journey from London to Oxford, did like innocent and harmless wretches wander out of their way, and at length being within six miles of Oxon as the night drew on, and the waters were high, they went to a certain grange of the Benedictine monks of Abingdon, seated in a most vast and solitary wood.
“And the said friars, humbly knocking at the door, desired them for God’s love to house them for that night, lest they should perish either by hunger, cold, or the fury of beasts in the wood. But the porter who came to the door, perceiving their dirty faces, ragged vestments, and uncouth speech, looked upon cal as a couple of jesters, or jongleurs. And therefore running in and telling the Prior who they were, he caused them to be brought in that they might show sport to them.
“But the friars, looking steadfastly and gravely upon them, said that they were mistaken in them, for they were not such kind of people, but the servants of God, and professors of an apostolic life.”
This was evidently a bitter disappointment to the Prior and the monks, for they thereupon “vilely spurned at them, and caused them to be thrust out of the gate.”
The poor friars then betook themselves to the wood, to find a sleeping-place under some tree or thicket. But a young monk, more tender-hearted than his brethren, went secretly to the porter, and desired him, when the Prior and monks were gone to bed, to find the friars, and take them to the hayloft, where the kind young monk “carried to them bread and drink, bade them good-night, and devoutly commended himself to their prayers.”
It would appear that the young monk having now gone to bed, was troubled with a “dreadful dream,” in which he saw that the Prior, the sacrist, and the cellarer were, by the command of Christ Himself, hanged upon the elm tree before the cloister—and that he, the young monk himself, was claimed by S. Francis to be henceforth of his order.
And in the morning when he went to, the hayloft, the friars were gone, and “were on their way to Oxon, discoursing of holy matters as they went, and praying to the ‘Mother of Mercy’ to prosper their designs.”
And on reaching Oxford they went first to the house of the Black Friars in the Jewry, and then did they present themselves to King Henry III. in his palace of Beaumont, who liked them well, and permitted them to settle in a house in Oxford. After this the Gray Friars found friends and benefactors, and they built houses and schools, and continued their building till the end of the century.
And though at first their founder, S. Francis, had taught them to despise the learning of the schools, they became renowned for their scholarship and their skill in philosophy; and the great Bishop of Lincoln, Robert Grosstete, taught in their schools, and learned persons from amongst them were sent from Oxford to teach philosophy and theology at Lyons and other places; and students came to be taught in their schools at Oxford, from France and Italy, from Spain and Portugal, from Germany, from Scotland, and from Ireland. And of their order was the “admirable Doctor,” the marvelous Roger Bacon, who died just before the time when Richard Rolle must have set off on his journey from the Yorkshire dales to the great city of Oxford.
But the Friar Agnell, the first provincial master of their order in England, who had come to Oxford straight from his master S. Francis, was dismayed to find what were the consequences of his invitation of Robert Grosstete and of other learned men to teach in his schools. For he himself was but a deacon, and “of no literature,” and he knew not what it was which his Master Francis had forbidden, and which he himself had encouraged. “For,” says the Chronicle, “he never himself smelt of an academy, or scarce tasted of human learning.”
But he was soon to learn what was the fruit of the Forbidden tree. “For on a certain day, he being willing to understand what progress his scholars made, in literature, entered this school, and heard their disputing eagerly, and making queries whether there was a God!’ And with angry words he flung himself on a sudden out of the school, repenting withal that he had erected, this school, wherein were discussed such vain and frivolous arguments. And he gent ten marks sterling to the Court of Rome to have the decretals corrected that so his said scholars should lay aside their sophisms and apply themselves to the study of the decretals only.”
But Friar Agnell had made his discovery too late—and his scholars continued their disputatious, and they studied Aristotle, and they fought fiercely over the question whether general ideas have any existence outside of the minds of men, and they dived into mathematics and optics, and geography and grammar, and astronomy and astrology, and chronology and history, and logic and metaphysics.
And it was rumoured that Roger Bacon could make a powder that would kill and destroy by exploding with a great noise, and that he, could see things double their size by looking at them through mystical glasses—and that he could make the moon and the planets look as if they were come down to be near the earth—and he could make heavy things move about only by heating water till it turned to steam, so that he said ships and cars might move without any force of man or beast.
To such uncanny lengths had the simple disciples of Friar Agnell rushed forward, from the moment when he departed from the injunctions of Francis, his master.
Nor had they remembered the lessons of poverty and hardship which they had brought with them from Assisi, for in time their “pleasant seat without the wall, and remote from the hubbub of the city,” differed very widely from the thatched huts of Porticella. Beside it “ran a pleasant rivulet, called Trill Mill Stream, where they had a water-mill to grind their corn, and a large plot of ground partly enclosed with the said rivulet, whereon was so pleasant a grove of trees, divided into several walks, ambits, and recesses, as also a garden and orchard adjoining, that by the inhabitants of Oxon it was called Paradise. And as for their building, it was stately and magnificent, their church large, and their refectory, cloister, and libraries all proportionable thereunto, not to be equaled with others in Oxon, either college or convent, except S. Frideswyde’s and Osney.”
But we have not yet done with the Friars. For after the Franciscans, there arrived at Oxford the White Friars or Carmelites, to whom a house was granted by the keeper of Oxford Castle in the year 1254. And they also began to build, having procured a site for a “fair and large convent, and also for walks and places of pleasure. And there they erected buildings, and planted gardens and walks,” in which they were walking and fishing when Richard-Rolle was an Oxford scholar.
But a few years later even their fair house and pleasant walks sufficed them not. For it came to pass that in the year 1304 King Edward I. took with him to Scotland one of these friars, “by reason that he was accounted in his time the most famous poet of this nation, purposely that he should write poetically of his victories that he should obtain there.” And the friar, Robert Baston, wrote with “such ingenuity” on these matters, that he obtained favor from his prince.
And afterward Edward II, also took the poet with him to Scotland, and when he was defeated and put to flight by Robert Bruce, Baston told Edward that if he would call on the mother of God for mercy, he should find favor. And thereupon Edward made a promise to her that, if he should escape from the hands of his enemies, he would erect some house in England for the poor Carmelites.
And having safely arrived in England, though with great loss, he was reminded of his promise, and Baston and others persuaded him to give to the said Carmelites his palace in Oxford― “the fair palace” in which Cœur de Lion was born. “And the king, by divers solicitations and fair promises of his soul’s health, did give them the said mansion.” The king had perhaps not yet discovered that his poet, whilst captive for a while in the hands of Robert Bruce, had turned his talents to good account by writing poems in honor of the victories of his conqueror.
“Thus,” says the Chronicle, “we see these Carmelites, who originally lived in deserts and solitary places, did by insinuating themselves into the affections of people, and hearing confessions (though forbidden to do so by the Archbishop of Canterbury), procure riches, and obtain a seat in the most noted place (except one) in the learned world. Those that some years before did profess poverty and great austerity of life, did now obtain land and houses, such that were not only low and poor, most fit for mendicants but the stately hall or palace of a king.
“And indeed, to say the truth, the benefaction was noted by understanding men to be very unreasonable, or rather a weakness in the king to be so fooled, and much was written and preached against the friars for this cause. But notwithstanding all this ado, they, as they had obtained it, so they kept it, having procured from Pope John a bull, whereby this their seat was confirmed to them.
“And where stood the chamber in which Cœur de Lion was born, they built their Campanile, which, with no little pride, they would show to strangers at their coming to this place.” And there they had a library, a large chamber fitted up “with divers pews or desks,” where their books were carefully preserved, and kept far more free from dust or worms than in the convents of the Black and Gray Friars. They had also a cloister, and walks, and a stately hall or refectory, where divers kings had kept their Christmastide with great solemnity; and likewise they had a large and beautiful church, with a fair steeple and bells.
“And so continually enriching themselves, and replenishing their bags by insinuating into the favor of ignorant people, did they live in their royal mansion, situated beyond compare for a wholesome air and delightful prospect.”
And lastly came the Austin Friars, for whom a wealthy knight, Sir John de Handlow, built “a large and fair mansion and church with stone out of Shot-over quarry, about the time of Richard Rolle’s birth. And these friars had many quarrels with the Black and Gray Friars, and also they hated those of the new sect called Lollards, who began to spread and to teach in Oxford.”
And besides these, there were lesser orders of friars, for whom “fair houses” were built just before Richard came from Yorkshire, or were being built whilst he was there. Of these latter was a house built for the Trinitarian Friars by Edmund, Earl of Cornwall. These Trinitarian Friars wore white habits, “with red and sky-blue crosses thereon, the three colors to represent the Trinity, and the third part of all gifts received by them was to be used to redeem Christians from Turks and infidels.” And the Crutched or Crossed Friars had their house also, and wore blue habits, with a red cloth cross sewed upon it.
There were also, besides the monks and friars, hermits and anchorites, who dwelt in solitary little cells standing in the fields adjoining to abbey or parish churches. “The hermits,” says the Chronicler; “spent their lives in fervent prayer against the vanities of the world, and for poor pilgrims and passengers that steered their course that way.” They were also employed in the useful occupation of “digging their own graves, and filling them up again,” which might, one would think, be rightly classed amongst the “vanities of the world,” though a sad and sombre vanity. And happily they were also employed by the city in “delving and mending highways and bridges,” receiving “some reward for their pains.”
We can now imagine something of the motley crowd which surrounded Richard Rolle-students in the dresses of many countries—friars and monks Gray, black, white and blue, and brown, and Jews in their yellow gaberdines, and knights and men-at-arms who guarded the castle, and wealthy citizens in their gay apparel, and the half-naked, ragged, starving poor.
And we can imagine how in this mixed multitude there were endless fights and uproars, and as boys were boys in those days, as in these, there was roystering and rioting, and perpetual noise of shouting and singing in all the tongues of Babel, which roused the citizens from their beds, and made them turn out sword in hand from time to time, and fight fiercely with the mad students and the outlandish men in strange apparel, who made their lives a burden to them.
So that in those olden times as in later ones, the Town and Gown riots were a dear delight to the scholars, though at times they came off beaten and wounded. Indeed, at the time when Richard was at Oxford, it was recorded that Fulk Niermit and other scholars were killed in a Town and Gown fray, and many others grievously wounded.
Such was Oxford life; but there was a side of it known to Richard Rolle which many knew not. Let Its try if we can gain a glimpse of it from these distant years.