Oxford | Page 8

be of his building; perhaps he
only "restored" it, for it is in the true primitive style- -gaunt, unadorned,
with round-headed windows, good for shooting from with the bow. St.
Michael's was not only a church, but a watchtower of the city wall; and
here the old northgate, called Bocardo, spanned the street. The rooms
above the gate were used till within quite recent times, and the poor
inmates used to let down a greasy old hat from the window in front of
the passers-by, and cry, "Pity the Bocardo birds":
"Pigons qui sont en 1'essoine, Enserrez soubz trappe voliere,"
as a famous Paris student, Francois Villon, would have called them. Of
Bocardo no trace remains, but St. Michael's is likely to last as long as
any edifice in Oxford. Our illustrations represent it as it was in the last
century. The houses huddle up to the church, and hide the lines of the
tower. Now it stands out clear, less picturesque than it was in the time
of Bocardo prison. Within the last two years the windows have been
cleared, and the curious and most archaic pillars, shaped like
balustrades, may be examined. It is worth while to climb the tower and

remember the times when arrows were sent like hail from the narrow
windows on the foes who approached Oxford from the north, while
prayers for their confusion were read in the church below.
That old Oxford of war was also a trading town. Nothing more than the
fact that it was a favourite seat of the Jews is needed to prove its
commercial prosperity. The Jews, however, demand a longer notice in
connection with the still unborn University. Meanwhile, it may be
remarked that Oxford trade made good use of the river. The Abingdon
Chronicle (ii. 129) tells us that "from each barque of Oxford city, which
makes the passage by the river Thames past Abingdon, a hundred
herrings must yearly be paid to the cellarer. The citizens had much
litigation about land and houses with the abbey, and one Roger
Maledoctus (perhaps a very early sample of the pass-man) gave
Abingdon tenements within the city." Thus we leave the pre-Academic
Oxford a flourishing town, with merchants and moneylenders. As for
the religious, the brethren of St. Frideswyde had lived but loosely (pro
libito viverunt), says William of Malmesbury, and were to be
superseded by regular canons, under the headship of one Guimond, and
the patronage of the Bishop of Salisbury. Whoever goes into Christ
Church new buildings from the river-side, will see, in the old edifice
facing him, a certain bulging in the wall. That is the mark of the pulpit,
whence a brother used to read aloud to the brethren in the refectory of
St. Frideswyde. The new leaven of learning was soon to ferment in an
easy Oxford, where men lived pro libito, under good lords, the D'Oilys,
who loved the English, and built, not churches and bridges only, but the
great and famous Oseney Abbey, beyond the church of St. Thomas, and
not very far from the modern station of the Great Western Railway. Yet
even after public teaching in Oxford certainly began, after Master
Robert Puleyn lectured in divinity there (1133; cf. Oseney Chronicle),
the tower was burned down by Stephen's soldiery in 1141 (Oseney
Chronicle, p. 24).

CHAPTER II
--THE EARLY STUDENTS--A DAY WITH A MEDIEVAL
UNDERGRADUATE

Oxford, some one says, "is bitterly historical." It is difficult to escape
the fanaticism of Antony Wood, and of "our antiquary," Bryan Twyne,
when one deals with the obscure past of the University. Indeed, it is
impossible to understand the strange blending of new and old at
Oxford--the old names with the new meanings--if we avert our eyes
from what is "bitterly historical." For example, there is in most, perhaps
in all, colleges a custom called "collections." On the last days of term
undergraduates are called into the Hall, where the Master and the Dean
of the Chapel sit in solemn state. Examination papers are set, but no
one heeds them very much. The real ordeal is the awful interview with
the Master and the Dean. The former regards you with the eyes of a
judge, while the Dean says, "Master, I am pleased to say that Mr.
Brown's PAPERS are very fair, very fair. But in the matters of
CHAPELS and of CATECHETICS, Mr. Brown sets--for a
SCHOLAR--a very bad example to the other undergraduates. He has
only once attended divine service on Sunday morning, and on that
occasion, Master, his dress consisted exclusively of a long great-coat
and a pair of boots." After this accusation the Master will turn to the
culprit and observe, with emphasis ill represented by italics, "Mr.
Brown, the COLLEGE cannot hear with pleasure of such behaviour on
the