front to the street, and is really an excellent example of street architecture. It is “the college of the Souls of all faithful people deceased of Oxford,” seeming, as has been said, to convey the idea of a spiritual cemetery. Jeremy Taylor, Bishop Heber, and Sir Christopher Wren were educated here. It appears that the idea so quaintly expressed was chiefly intended to praying for the good estate of Henry VI., Archbishop Chicheley, who was the founder, and also for the souls of Henry V., the Duke of Clarence, and of all those dukes, earls, barons, knights, and esquires that had fallen in the war with France.” One of the finest libraries in England is to be found at All Souls; “it measures,” the authority quoted from says, “190 feet in length by 32½ in breadth, swelling out in the centre to above 50 feet, whilst the height, 40 feet, is sufficient to allow of a gallery that extends round three sides of the room.” The collection of books is among the finest even in Oxford.
Magdalen College is a noble piece of architecture from whatever side it is viewed. By the Oxford University Calendar it appears that it was founded in 1458 by William de Waynflete, who was successively head-master of Winchester and Eton Colleges, Provost of Eton, Bishop of Winchester, and at the same time Lord High Chancellor of England. He had once been master of Magdalen Hospital, near Winchester, and that, doubtless, suggested the name of his college at Oxford. The part of the quadrangle here shown certainly seems to be of a later date than the foundation of the college. As far as the style of design goes, it is a very impressive majestic piece of architecture, and as there are several singular anachronisms in the known date of some of the buildings here, it is, of course, possible that it may be the original building. Waynflete was greatly attached to Henry VI., who, if the character that Shakespeare would seem to sketch of him is reliable, was himself a scholarlike painstaking man, as far as simple literary ability is concerned. The high character of Waynflete protected him in the days of Edward IV., notwithstanding his attachment to the cause of Henry VI.; he was buried in great pomp at Winchester in 1486, in a fine chantry chapel, that is kept in preservation by Magdalen College.
The entrance gateway, here shown, is a more characteristic scene of the period of Waynflete. The architecture is older in character, and the effect perhaps even better; indeed this is as fine a piece of architecture for a street corner as any now existing in England. The interest in Magdalen College is from its sturdy resistance to James II. when he decided, as Bishop Burnet quaintly tells us, to send a mandamus requiring the college authorities to choose one Farmer for their president, who had no other qualification except that he had changed his religion. “Mandamus letters,” the bishop with simple candour tells us, “had no legal authority in them, but all the great preferments in
the church being at the King’s disposal, those who did pretend to favour were not apt to refuse his recommendation, lest that should be afterwards remembered to their prejudice. But now, since it was visible in what channel favour was likely to run, less regard was had to such a letter.” This candid thinker-aloud tells us that one Dr. Hough was in every way a suitable man, and one of their body, so he was elected; but the breach between the King and Oxford led to the most important results.
Norfolk and Suffolk were the last counties visited for the purposes of this present work, and it is a matter of regret that they cannot occupy so much space as their extremely interesting remains demand. Norwich is certainly one of the most interesting cities in England. Formerly the Duke of Norfolk used to reside here for a part of the year, in almost regal state, and many houses were built by the gentry who attended his court. This in a great measure accounts for the number of fine old mansions that remain in the city. The ecclesiastics of Norwich do not seem to have been so amiable as their brethren of Ely, and many were the disputes that occurred between them and the citizens. Sometimes a boundary and sometimes an outrage was the bone of contention, till on one occasion the monks killed several citizens who endeavoured to take possession of a piece of land which the monastery claimed. An inquest was held, and a verdict of wilful murder returned against the monks who had killed them. This seems to have been met promptly by a sentence of excommunication against every citizen in Norwich, but as it did not reduce them to a proper tone of submission, the ecclesiastical party betook to more carnal weapons, and secure in their walls they beguiled many an hour with archery practice at the expense of the citizens. The chroniclers tell us that the clerical party tired at last of this desultory warfare, and on the Sunday before St. Lawrence day (which would be in the beginning of August) “sallied out, and went in a raging manner about the city,” killing and plundering. They concluded their Sunday’s labours by breaking open a tavern kept by one Hugh de Bromholm, drinking all the wine they could, and turning on the taps before leaving. Of course this led to further civil war, till the king interfered.
Every visitor to Norwich will remember the fine Erpingham gateway; it does not figure here because in a future work I propose to illustrate the gateways of England, with their history; but briefly speaking, it may be said to consist of a two-centred arch, curiously and profusely adorned with figures, niches, trees, birds, shields, and armorial bearings. Sir Thomas Erpingham appears to have favoured the cause of Wycliffe, and been condemned to prison by the clerical party, though they afterwards were induced to commute his sentence to a fine such as would enable them to build this gateway, and do some other ecclesiastical architecture in the neighbourhood. He was an old man in Henry V.’s time, but commanded the archers at the battle of Agincourt, and gave the signal for the first forward movement of the English, by throwing his truncheon high up in the air, and calling out, “Now strike!” But for his favour with Henry IV. he would probably have suffered worse than he did at the hands of the Church party, for Spencer, the bishop of the diocese at that time, declared that he would make every Lollard hop headless, or else, in his energetic language, “fry a faggot.” Erpingham’s loyalty to Bolingbroke’s son is beautifully suggested in Shakespeare when he enters the tent where Henry is putting the best face on their apparently hopeless position to Bedford and Gloucester—“There is some soul of goodness in things evil,” etc.; and the king cheerily addresses the then aged knight,
“Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham;
A good soft pillow for that good white head,
Were better than a churlish turf of France.”