Corner of a College Study.
Passing on down College Street, and admiring some Virginian creepers, more bright than Henry VII.’s stained glass, we soon came to the large gates of Wolvesey Castle. There was a fortress here in Saxon times, built, it is said, by Cynegils, and made over by his son to the bishops of Winchester. There is a mystery about the name. Some think it means Wolf’s Island. Milner says the name came from Edgar having required a Welsh prince to find 300 wolves’ heads and deposit them here every year. These animals were then great pests, and when Alfred wrote requesting the Archbishop of Rheims to permit St. Grimbald to come over, he sent him a present of wolf hounds. The prelate acceding, says that the saint is “not a dumb dog, but able to bark and drive away evil spirits.”
The earlier castle which stood on this site had a literary celebrity. Here Alfred’s scribes compiled the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, assisted by the King himself. He ordered the precious volume to be kept at Wolvesey—it is now in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. This was the first English prose book.
The structure of which we now see the ruins was built by Bishop de Blois, brother of King Stephen, out of the materials of the former castle, and of the Saxon palace in the square. It was not long constructed before it was used in a manner which showed that the bishop’s weapons were not entirely spiritual.
Burning of Winchester.
In 1141, during the civil wars, the southern part of the city, including the Bishop’s palace and the Cathedral, supported King Stephen, while the northern, containing the best houses and Royal Castle, held out for the Empress Matilda. A storm of fire-balls poured forth from Wolvesey Castle, destroying the Abbey of St. Mary, twenty churches, large private buildings, the suburb of Hyde, and the splendid monastery there situated. Fighting and firing raged in the heart of the city for seven weeks! The Northern party were at last driven into the Royal Castle, and the water cut off. The Empress now adopted a clever expedient; she kept out of sight, caused a report to be circulated that she was dead, and had preparations made for her funeral. Her body was enclosed in lead like a corpse, and was thus allowed to be carried out in a horse-litter through the besiegers’ camp. Once safely in the open country she soon was out of her coffin and into her saddle, and, bestriding her good steed, galloped off towards Devizes. Stephen, upon his obtaining the castle, prepared it for vigorous defence, but before he was ready heard an army was collecting against him and took to flight. The monks of Hyde Abbey maintained that during this conflict Bishop de Blois intentionally fired from Wolvesey upon their monastery.
The war which devastated the country at this time greatly interfered with agriculture, and a synod was convened at Winchester, at which it was resolved, “that plough and husbandman should have the same privileges of sanctuary with churches,” and the whole assembly, with torches in their hands, pronounced a blazing excommunication against any one who injured an agriculturist.
Wolvesey saw Henry II.—who had been crowned at Winchester—in one of his worst moments. After the murder of À Becket he found a great storm of public feeling raised against him, and felt no longer safe. On the 6th of August he passed through Winchester, and visited this grim old Norman castle, where Henry de Blois was dying, and here he heard the bishop’s last words of bitter reproach, as he foretold the great calamities which Divine vengeance would pour upon the murderer of the Archbishop. From this Henry hurried to Wales and to the subjugation of Ireland. As late as Leland’s time this was “a castelle, or palace well tow’red,” and it was a residence till the Civil War.
Raleigh.