Nooks and Corners of English Life, Past and Present Part 17

These instances might, of course, be multiplied by records of each town in the district, but they will suffice to show the extent of the barbarity which distinguished the Wakes of our forefathers. The ludicrous was sometimes a.s.sociated with the cruelties in these scenes.

At Tipton on one occasion, the bull broke loose, and, das.h.i.+ng madly through the crowd, entered the open door of a house, at whose fire a huge piece of Wake beef was roasting. From the force of habit, the bull tossed the smoking joint to the ceiling, and disappeared, to the great joy of the affrighted inmate. On another occasion, at Bloxwich, some wag stole the bull at midnight, and when the excited crowd a.s.sembled on the morrow, from all parts of the district, they were doomed to disappointment. The circ.u.mstance gave rise to a local proverb still in use. When great expectations are baffled, the circ.u.mstance is instinctively likened to "the Bloxwich bull." The remembrance of this barbarous pastime is perpetuated in the topographical nomenclature of the district, where, following the example of Birmingham, almost every town and village has its Bull King.

The stronghold of c.o.c.k-fighting was at Wednesbury, where the "cookings"

were resorted to by persons from all parts of the kingdom. In a _Directory of Walsall_, 1813, we read:--"The c.o.c.kpit is situate on the left-hand side of the entrance into Park Street, from Digbeth, at the bottom of a yard belonging to Mr. Fox, known by the sign of the New Inn.

It is s.p.a.cious and much frequented at the Wakes, at which period only it is used."

The minor sports and pastimes were the interludes between the tragedies, and served to complete the day's programme of the Black Country Wake-time. Forty years ago it was dangerous to pa.s.s through a town during the Wakes. The inhabitants who took active part in these sports were so infuriated with drink and excitement, and their feelings were so hardened by scenes of torture, that they regarded neither the limb nor life of any who happened to offend them. There was no amus.e.m.e.nt provided either for young or old but the most vicious and degrading, and the Wakes seldom pa.s.sed by without some other blood than that of bulls being spilt--the blood of comrades, and too frequently of wives and children, who dared to remonstrate with a furious husband and father in his orgies.

Happily, modern Wakes have been divested of nearly all the characteristics of the olden festivals. The only vestiges which distinguish them are the booths, clowns, and drinking bouts; and these amus.e.m.e.nts are only indulged in by children and the lowest cla.s.s of the population. Among the features recently introduced in connexion with district Wakes may be enumerated out-door fetes, flower-shows, bazaars, and excursions. Temperance Societies and Working Men's Inst.i.tutes select Wake-time for their celebrations. Two of the most successful exhibitions ever held in the district were inaugurated at the Wakes of Willenhall, in 1857, and at those of Bilston a year or two later, both in connexion with the progress of popular education. The Right Hon. C. P. Villiers, M.P. who was present on both occasions, and who knew this district in its dark days, took occasion to compare the former Wake times with the present, as an evidence of the social advancement of the Black Country.

The cultivation of cottage window-flowers, now happily so general throughout the same district, is another refining agency, which has helped in no small degree to root out the love for grosser sports among the people. But, perhaps, the most powerful agent in improving the character of modern Wakes is the influence of popular excursions. The district is fortunate in its situation in this respect. Within easy distance are the lawns and flowers of Enville, Hagley, Shugborough, and Teddesley, which it is the delight of their n.o.ble owners to place at the service of our working men and women; and the more recent facilities for locomotion have also placed the Malvern slopes and Southport sands within their reach. Wake-times are therefore now become seasons of excursions, when hard-working men quit the factory bench and the dark mine, to delight and refine their inner manhood with views of Nature's fairest works. This, we think, is one great step towards the development of a love for art among the artisans of our utilitarian district; and Wake-times so spent will a.s.suredly exert an influence for good through the remainder of the year.[61]

Nevertheless, the Wakes are still disgraced by sad scenes of intoxication and other excesses: the agencies of education and religion are not working in vain in the district; let us hope that the progress, though slow, may be sure.

FOOTNOTES:

[61] We quote the above from a contribution to the _Birmingham Daily Post_. The details are of value, from their being furnished by an eye-witness.

KEEPING BIRDS IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

Alexander Neckam, from whose Treatise the following curious things are derived, was a learned man of the twelfth century: his work, which is written in Latin, has been translated by Mr. Thomas Wright, and published under the direction of the Master of the Polls. Of Neckam's birth we learn the date from a chronicle formerly existing among the MSS. of the Earl of Arundel, which inform us that "in the month of September, 1157, there was born to the King at Windsor a son named Richard; and the same night was born Alexander Neckam at St. Alban's, whose mother gave suck to Richard with her right breast, and to Alexander with her left breast." Thus was Alexander the foster-brother of the future Coeur de Lion, who was celebrated for his own love of literature and learning; and the position which the circ.u.mstance here related by the chronicler gave to Neckam in regard to such a Prince goes far to explain the honourable position he gained in after-life.

Neckam was born and pa.s.sed his boyhood at St. Alban's: he received his earlier education in the Abbey School there; and such a rapid advance did he make in learning, that whilst still very young, the direction of the school at Dunstable, a dependency of the Abbey of St. Alban's, was entrusted to him. But he soon, of his own accord, sought a larger field for his mental activities, and proceeded to the then celebrated University of Paris, where he was a distinguished professor as early as the year 1180, when he can have been no more than twenty-three years of age.

He did not long adhere to the scholastic learning of the University, but in 1186 returned to England, and resumed his old post at Dunstable. He subsequently became one of the Augustinian monks of Cirencester, and in 1213 was elected Abbot of Cirencester. He died at Kempsey, near Worcester, in 1217, and was buried in Worcester Cathedral.

Neckam, in these early times, displayed a taste for experimental science. The Treatise from which we quote is a sort of manual of natural science, as it was then taught; and it derives a still greater value for us from the love of its author for ill.u.s.trating his theme by the introduction of contemporary anecdotes and stories relating to the objects treated of; as well as the mention of popular facts and articles of belief which had come under his observation or knowledge, many of which offer singular ill.u.s.trations of the condition and manners of the age.

From Neckam we learn how great was the love for animals in the Middle Ages; how ready people, apparently of all cla.s.ses, were to observe and note the peculiarities of animated nature, and especially how fond they were of tamed and domestic animals. We see that the mediaeval castles and great mansions were like so many menageries of rare beasts of all kinds.

It is in the stories told by Neckam, also, that we become more than ever acquainted with the attachment of our mediaeval forefathers to the chase, and to all the animals connected with it. Beginning with the King of Birds, the Eagle, however, he offers no new facts; though he makes it the subject of numerous moralisings. With the lesser birds of prey he becomes communicative of his anecdotes. He recounts how a Hawk one day, by craft and accident and not by mere strength, killed an Eagle. "This occurred in Great Britain, the King of which country, with his courtiers, were witnesses of the occurrence. The courtiers applauded the ferocity of the smaller and weaker bird, which, too, had only killed its adversary in self-defence; but the King interfered, reproved his followers for expressing sentiments which justified the employment of force by va.s.sals against their Sovereigns, and ordered the Hawk to be hanged immediately as guilty of treason."

Another anecdote places the reputation of the Hawk in a less obnoxious light. It was one of the characteristics of that bird, as Neckam tells us, in the cold of winter, to seize in its claws a Partridge, wild Chick, or some other bird, and hold it under its belly all night, in order to profit by its warmth; and when the warmth of day returned, the Hawk, however hungry it might be, spared the bird, in consideration of the service thus derived from it, and displayed the n.o.ble nature of the bird of prey, the fit representative of the Feudal Baron, by setting it at liberty. Neckam tells another story of a Falcon which revenged itself on an Eagle; and another of a Weasel which caught a Sparrowhawk and dragged it under the water. We may pa.s.s over his account of the Phoenix, which is taken from the ancients; but that which he tells us of the Parrot shows how great a favourite it was as a cage-bird even in our islands during the Middle Ages. He speaks especially of its mischievous cunning and of its skill in imitating the human voice, adding that, for exciting people's mirth, it was preferable even to the jongleurs. It must, however, be acknowledged that Neckam's wonderful anecdotes become at times rather legendary.

Pa.s.sing by the Peac.o.c.k, the Vulture, the Pheasant, and Partridge, the often-described Barnacle, supposed to be generated from the gluey substances produced on fir-timber when immersed in the waves of the sea, finds its place here. The qualities of the Swan, which celebrated its own death in sweet song; the Ostrich, said to be devoid of affection for its own offspring; the Nightingale, which was so capricious in its choice of habitation that Neckam tells us there was a well-known river in Wales on one side of which the song of this nightingale was often heard, but n.o.body ever heard it on the other; the Swallow, singular for the form of its nest and for the locality which it selected for building it; the Nuthatch; the Ibis of Egypt; the Dove; and several birds less known, as described by Neckam, are chiefly worthy of notice on account of the singular moralisings and symbolical interpretations which are given to them. The Sparrow, according to Neckam (long antic.i.p.ating Sterne), is a libidinous bird, light, restless, "injurious to the fruits of man's labour," too 'cute for the birdcatcher, and subject to epilepsy. The Raven is, by its colour and by its habits, emblematical of the clergy; it is easily domesticated. A Crow foretells rain by its clamorousness.

Neckam has also something to say about the Lark and the Magpie, and something more about the Parrot, "the jongleur of the birds;" but he says of the Cuckoo that it does nothing but repeat the words "_affer, affer_," _i.e._ "give, give,"--and on that account it was the type of avarice, and "sang the old song of those who have not yet divested themselves of the old man." Surely, however, Neckam's ear was at fault in this description, or the Cuckoos of Cirencester sang a very different song, with a different moral too, from the cuckoos on the banks of Avon in the dayspring of Shakspeare. But it is a novel fact to learn that the saliva of the Cuckoo produced Gra.s.shoppers; yet this was, no doubt, a popular explanation of the well-known cuckoo-spit of our fields. The Pelican of those days killed her own young, after which, in self-remorse, she tore her own body to shed her blood upon them, by means of which they revived. The c.o.c.k was symbolical of the Christian preacher or doctor of the Church; and Neckam gives a rather curious physical explanation of the question why it announces the hour of the day by its crowing, and why it has a comb. The Wren was remarkable for its fertility, and for another rather singular quality. When killed and put on the spit before the fire to roast, it wanted no turning, but turned itself with the utmost regularity. Though the smallest of birds, it claimed to be their king, and hence the Latin name of _Regulus_. Did it not, when the birds a.s.sembled to choose a king, conceal itself beneath the Eagle's wing, when it was agreed that the throne should be given to the bird which mounted highest towards heaven; and when the Eagle, having soared the highest, made its claim to the prize, did it not start from its hiding-place, jump on the Eagle's back, and claim to be highest of all, and therefore the winner?[62]

FOOTNOTES:

[62] Selected and abridged from review of Neckam's Work, in _The Times_ journal.

VI. Historic Sketches.

THE STORY OF FAIR ROSAMUND.

In the n.o.ble Park of Blenheim they show you two sycamore-trees on the spot where the ancient Palace of Woodstock was built; and near the Bridge is a spring called Rosamund's Well. Hard by was the celebrated Bower, erected by Henry II., and the scene of Addison's poetical opera of _Rosamund_, in excellent verse, which, wedded to the music of Dr.

Arne, proved very successful. Several pa.s.sages long retained their popularity, and were daily sung, during the latter part of George the Second's reign, at all the harpsichords in England.

Drayton, in the reign of Elizabeth, described "Rosamund's Labyrinth, whose ruins, together with her _Well_, being paved with square stones in the bottom, and also her Tower, from which the Labyrinth did run, are yet remaining, being vaults arched and walled with stone and brick, almost inextricably wound within one another, by which, if at any time her lodging were laid about by the Queen, she might easily avoid peril imminent, and, if need be, by secret issues, take the air abroad, many furlongs about Woodstock, in Oxfords.h.i.+re."

Nor are these the only memorials of the frail Rosamund, whose history is one of the most interesting in our stock of legendary lore. About two miles north of Oxford, near the river Isis, there are some remains of the famous Nunnery of G.o.dstow, from which, we are told, "there is a subterranean pa.s.sage to Woodstock." It was about the end of the reign of Henry I., that this Nunnery was founded, at the instigation of Editha, a pious lady of Winchester. a.s.sisted by benefactions, Editha finished a convent for Benedictine Nuns, in 1138; and King Stephen and his Queen were present at the consecration. Editha was Abbess here; and the lands given were confirmed by grants of Stephen and Richard I. When Prince Henry arrived in England, in 1149, to dispute his t.i.tle to the crown with Stephen, he happened to visit the Nunnery of G.o.dstow, where he saw Rosamund, the daughter of Lord Clifford; she was not a nun, but boarded in the convent.

Fair Rosamund--_Rosa Mundi_, the Rose of the World--was the second daughter of Walter de Clifford, the son of Richard and grandson of Ponz.

Richard is mentioned in the Domesday Survey as holding lands in the counties of Oxford, Gloucester, Wilts, Worcester, and Hereford. Walter de Clifford, by his wife Margaret, had four children:--Lucy, first married to Hugh de Say, and subsequently to Bartholomew de Mortimer; Rosamund, Walter, and Richard. Of Rosamund's early life we have no particulars. Local tradition affirms that Canyngton, about three miles from Bridgewater, was the place of her birth, and that within the walls of its priory she received such education as the age afforded. That, as the daughter of a powerful lord, she was entrusted to the care of some religious sisterhood for nurture, both of mind and body, we have no doubt, though the old chroniclers are silent on the subject. The art of embroidery would appear to have been one of her accomplishments, for the venerable Abbey of Buildwas long possessed among its treasures a magnificent cope, which bore witness to the taste and skill of its fair embellisher. Of her first acquaintance with Henry II., and the mode and place of her introduction to him, no details have been preserved.

Probably she was known to him from her earliest years. Nor have we any reason to suppose that, according to some modern versions of the sad story, a broken vow added its shadow to a life whose record is sufficiently gloomy without this additional darkening of woe. Not a hint of her having been a nun do the chroniclers give us; and, had such been the fact, full use would have been made of such an aggravation of her offence. Her royal lover was one of the most unscrupulous of mankind, and for his many enormities he was notorious. His affection for Rosamund, however, such as it was, was constant. In order to protect her from the vengeance of the Queen, he removed her successively to various places of greater or less security. But the most famous of all, and with which her name is more than with all others a.s.sociated, was her retreat at Woodstock. It was here that Henry built a chamber, which Brompton describes as of wondrous architecture--resembling the work of Daedalus; in other words, a labyrinth or maze. A ma.n.u.script of Robert of Gloucester, in the Heralds' Office, says that--

"Att Wodestoke for hure he made a toure, That is called Rosemounde's boure,"

the special intent of which was to conceal her from her royal rival. The internal decorations of this abode were as much attended to as its means of escaping external notice. The Abbot of Jorevall describes a cabinet of marvellous workmans.h.i.+p, which was one of its ornaments. It was nearly two feet in length, and on it the a.s.sault of champions, the action of cattle, the flight of birds, and the leaping of fishes were so naturally represented, that the figures appeared to move.

Rosamund did not long occupy the retreat that royal though guilty love had created for her. She died in 1177, while yet without a rival in the King's affections, and, as it would appear, of some natural disease. In after times the injured Queen Eleanor had the credit of discovering her place of concealment, by means of a clue of silk which the King had incautiously left behind him; and which enabled her to thread the intricacies of the path, and of gratifying her revenge by obliging her rival to drink from her hand a cup of poison. That the Queen discovered the abode of Rosamund is possible; and it may have been that the shock of the meeting, and the unmeasured language which her Majesty is said to have employed, were too much for the poor victim of her womanly and natural displeasure. It is only fair, however, to say that the Queen's part in the entire transaction is not alluded to in the older writers, and is probably the fiction of more modern times.

Rosamund was buried in the first instance before the high altar in the Church of G.o.dstow Nunnery, which was probably selected from its neighbourhood to Woodstock, and which henceforward enjoyed a goodly number of benefactions in memory of her and for the health of her soul.

The body was wrapped in leather, and then placed in a coffin of lead.

Over the whole Henry built a magnificent tomb, which was covered with a pall of silk, and surrounded by tapers constantly burning. This occurred in the lifetime of her father, for he gave to the nuns of G.o.dstow, in pure and perpetual alms, for the health of the souls of Margaret his wife and of Rosamund his daughter, his mill at Franton, with all appurtenances, a meadow adjacent to the same called Lechtun, and a saltpit in Wiche. Walter, his son, confirmed the gift. Osbert Fitzhugh added to this the grant of a saltpit in Wiche, called the Cow, pertaining to his manor of Wichebalt.

Indeed, Walsingham goes so far as to say, though incorrectly, that the Nunnery of G.o.dstow was actually founded by King John for the soul of Rosamund. It is not unlikely that a chantry was founded by that king for the object stated, but the foundation of the house was beyond question the work of a much earlier period.

Rosamund's remains, however, were not allowed to occupy their sepulchre in peace. Fourteen years after their solemn commission to this sacred place of interment, Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, in a visitation of his diocese, came to G.o.dstow. After he had entered the church, and performed his devotions, he observed the tomb occupying its conspicuous position before the high altar, adorned as already described, and forthwith asked whose it was. On being informed that it was the grave of Rosamund, whom Henry, the late king, had so dearly loved, and for whose sake he had greatly enriched this. .h.i.therto small and indigent house, and had given lands for the sustentation of the tomb and the maintenance of the lights, he imperatively commanded the nuns to take her out of the church, and to bury her with other common people, as the connexion between her and the King had been base; and to the end that the Christian religion might not be vilified, but that other women might thus be deterred from similar evil ways.

In obedience to the bishop's mandate the tomb was removed from the church, and erected in the chapter-house. It bore the following epitaph, containing the obvious play upon the lady's name, and declaratory of the unhappy contrast which death had effected:--

"Hic jacet in tumba Rosa mundi, non Rosa munda; Non redolet, sed olet, quae redolere solet."

This tomb remained, an object of interest and respect, until the dissolution of the house. It was then destroyed, and a stone was discovered within it, bearing the simple inscription, "TUMBA ROSAMUNDae."

The bones were found undecayed, and on the opening of the leaden coffin which contained them, "there was a very swete smell came out of it."

Another eye-witness described it as having "enterchangeable weavings drawn out and decked with roses red and green, and the picture of the cup out of which she drank the poyson given her by the Queen, carved in stone." A stone coffin, said to be that of Rosamund, was still to be seen at G.o.dstow when Hearne wrote his "Account of some Antiquities in and about Oxford," but this was regarded by him as a "fiction of the vulgar."[63]

In the "French Chronicle of London," 1259-1343, one of our earliest records compiled in ill.u.s.tration of the History of the City of London, under 1262, we read another version of this legend: "In this year the Queen was shamefully hooted and reviled at London Bridge, as she was desiring to go from the Tower to Westminster; and this, because she had caused a gentle damsel to be put to death, the most beauteous that was known, and imputed to her that she was the King's concubine. For which reason the Queen had her stripped, and caused a bath to be prepared, and then made the beauteous damsel enter therein; and made a wicked old hag beat her upon both arms, with a staff; and when the blood gushed forth, there came another execrable sorceress, who applied two 'frightful toads' to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which they sucked until all the blood that was in her body had run out, two other old hags holding her arms stretched out.

The Queen, laughing the while, mocked her, and had great joy in her heart, in being thus revenged upon Rosamonde. And when she was dead, the Queen had the body taken and buried in a filthy ditch, and with the body the toads.

"But when the King had heard the news, how the Queen had acted towards the most beauteous damsel whom he so greatly loved, and whom he held so dear in his heart, he felt great sorrow, and made great lamentation thereat:--'Alas! for my grief; what shall I do for the most beauteous Rosamonde? For never was her peer found for beauty, disposition, and courtliness.' He then desired to know what became of her body. He caused one of the wicked sorceresses to be seized, and had her put into great streights, that she might tell all the truth as to what they had done with the gentle damsel.

"Then the old hag related to the King how the Queen had wrought upon the most beauteous body of the gentle damsel, and where they would find it.

In the meantime, the Queen had the body taken up, and carried to a house of religion which had 'G.o.dstowe' for name, near Oxenforde; and had the body of Rosamond there buried, to colour her evil deeds And then King Henry began to ride towards Wodestoke, where Rosamond, whom he loved so much at heart, was so treacherously murdered by the Queen. And as the King was riding towards Wodestoke, he met the body of Rosamond, strongly enclosed within a chest, that was well and stoutly bound with iron. And the King forthwith demanded whose corpse it was, and what was the name of the person whose dead body they bore. They made answer to him, that it was the corpse of the most beauteous Rosamond. And when King Henry heard this, he instantly ordered them to open the chest, that he might behold the body that had been so vilely martyred. Immediately thereon, they did the King's command, and showed him the corpse of Rosamond, who was so hideously put to death. And when King Henry saw the whole truth thereof, through great grief, he fell fainting to the ground, and lay there in a swoon for a long time before any one could have converse with him.

"And when the King awoke from his swoon he spoke, and swore a great oath, that he would take full vengeance for the most horrid felony which, for great spite, had upon the gentle damsel been committed. Then began the King to lament and to give way to great sorrow for the most beauteous Rosamond, whom he loved so much at heart. 'Alas! for my grief,' said he, 'sweet Rosamonde, never was thy peer, never so sweet nor beauteous a creature to be found: may then the sweet G.o.d who abides in Trinity, on the soul of sweet Rosamond have mercy, and may He pardon her all her misdeeds: very G.o.d Almighty, Thou who art the end and the beginning, suffer not now that this soul shall in horrible torment come to perish, and grant unto her true remission for all her sins, for Thy great mercy's sake.'

"And when he had thus prayed he commanded them forthwith to ride straight to G.o.dstowe with the body of the lady, and there had her burial celebrated in that religious house of nuns, and there did he appoint thirteen chaplains to sing for the soul of the said Rosamond, so long as the world shall last. In this religious house of G.o.dstowe," says the Chronicler, "I tell you for truth, lieth fair Rosamond buried. May very G.o.d Almighty of her soul have mercy. Amen."[64]