As the monument stands now, it cannot, of course, impress one as it would have done in its perfect state, with the rich superstructure crowning it: especially as the restored shafts are merely square stone supports of the clumsiest description, so studiously careful has the restorer been not to confuse them with the original work. One cannot but applaud this conscientious spirit (would, indeed, that it had been adopted earlier!), but at the same time the modern supports have been made quite unnecessarily hideous. Still, though the base of St. Frideswide's shrine is only a collection of fragments, these fragments are of remarkable beauty and interest. It is of Forest marble, measuring seven feet by three and a half; and consists of an arcade of two richly cusped arches at the sides and one at each end. On the top of this was fixed the feretrum, containing the jewelled casket that held the relics themselves. The spandrels are filled with wonderfully carved foliage, unusually naturalistic, and preserving still the traces of colour and gilding to remind one of its former glories. The plants have been identified by Mr. Druce of High Street, the well-known Oxford botanist. On the south side there is maple in the central spandrel, with a wreath of what is probably crow's-foot in a boss below: the two side spandrels contain columbine and the greater celandine. On the north side the foliage is mostly oak, with acorns and numerous empty cups; sycamore and ivy filling the adjoining spandrels. At the east end one of the spandrels contains vine leaves and grapes, the other fig-leaves, but without the fruit; the cusp under the vine has a leaf which may be that of hog-leaf. At the west end there is hawthorn and bryony. The choice of all this foliage was doubtless made for symbolical reasons, referring first to St. Frideswide's life in the oak woods near Abingdon, and next to her care for the sick and suffering at Thornberrie (now Binsey). And in this connection it is pleasant to think that the sculptor, with tender fancy, chose plants which were famous for their healing virtue.
The foliage at the angles takes the form of pastoral staves; and the intermediate spandrels at the sides have women's heads carved in the centre. The plinth, which has been set on a chamfered base and step of white stone, is ornamented with a series of quatrefoils, containing the head of a bishop at the north-west corner, and the heads of queens on the south side. Foliage, instead of a head, occupies the centre and end panels on the sides; and very delicate foliage is worked on a little roll moulding extant at two of the angles.
Here is an account of the destruction of the shrine, and the treatment of its relics, in the words of Dean Liddell[ 3]:—
"It is a strange story. It is well known that, before the Reformation, the Church of St. Frideswide and her shrine enjoyed a high reputation as a place of sanctity. Privileges were conceded to it by royal authority. Miracles were believed to be wrought by a virtue attaching to it; pilgrims from all parts resorted to it,—among the number we find the name of Queen Catherine of Aragon, whose visit to the shrine shows the veneration in which it was held. Twice a year the Vice-Chancellor and principal members of the University visited the church in solemn procession, being considered (as we are told) the 'Mother Church of University and town,—there to pray, preach, and offer oblations at her shrine.'
"These practices and privileges not unnaturally seemed to the zealous Reformers of those times to call for summary interference. The old superstitions, which certainly gave rise to many abuses, must, they thought, be abated at once; nothing but strong measures would avail to withdraw the minds of the people, nurtured as they were in absolute belief in these superstitions, from belief in them. Accordingly, we cannot be surprised to find that this famous shrine was doomed to destruction, and was actually destroyed. When this happened it is not easy to determine,—probably in the time of Henry VIII. The fragments were used either at the time, or not long afterwards, to form part of the walls of a common well; and there we found them. The reliques of the Saint, however, were rescued by some zealous votaries, and carefully preserved in hope of better times. Meantime Catherine (the wife of Peter Martyr, a foreign Protestant theologian of high repute, who had been appointed Regius Professor of Theology here) died, and was buried near the place lately occupied by the shrine. Over her grave sermons were preached, contrasting the pious zeal of the German Protestant with the superstitious practices that had tarnished the simplicity of the Saxon Saint. Then came another change. The Roman Church under Mary Tudor recovered a brief supremacy. The body of Peter Martyr's wife was (one regrets to learn), by order of Cardinal Pole, contemptuously cast out of the church, and the remains of St. Frideswide, preserved, as I have said, by the piety of her devotees, were restored to their former resting-place. But it does not appear that any attempt was made to restore the shrine. Party zeal still prevailed. Angry contests continued between the adherents of the two parties even after the accession of Elizabeth.
"In consequence, the Queen, soon after her accession, ordered Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Grindal, Bishop of London, to look into this and other matters in dispute between the adherents of the Roman Church and those of the Reformed Faith; and these eminent ecclesiastics commissioned the authorities of this House to remove the scandal that had been caused by the inhuman treatment of Catherine Martyr's body. The matter was conducted by James Calfhill, lately appointed to a stall in this church, and then acting as sub-dean. In a letter to Bishop Grindal he gives an account of the ceremony that took place. He was resolved, if we may judge from his action, not to give a triumph to either party. On Jan. 11th, 1561, O.S., the bones of the Protestant Catherine and the Catholic St. Frideswide were put together, so intermingled that they could not be distinguished, and then placed together in the same tomb. This solution of the difficulty could not have been displeasing to the great Queen, who had been consistently endeavouring rather to win over her opponents by conciliation than to crush them by persecution. We may well suppose that she approved of the act of our Dean and Chapter. Death is the great reconciler; enmities should, at all events, be buried with the dead."
Calfhill, the sub-dean, wrote two epigrams on the burial of Catherine Martyr with St. Frideswide. The first ends thus: Ergo facessant hinc rabida impietas, inde superstitio; the other thus: Nunc coeant pietas atque superstitio. Perhaps these apparently contradictory sentiments led Isaac Disraeli (in his account of this curious transaction, which he selects in his "Amenities of Literature" as an illustration of the mutability of time) to remark that Calfhill "seems to have been at once a Catholic and a Reformer." Sanders the Jesuit was indignant at the "impious epithet," which he says was added, hic jacet religio cum superstitione; "although," says old Fuller, "the words being capable of a favourable sense on his side, he need not have been so angry."
The exact spot where the bones of The Lady now rest is supposed to be marked by a brass on the floor of the Lady Chapel, lately placed there by Canon Bright. But we can only be certain that, somewhere in this part of the church, "the married nun and the virgin saint," to use Froude's words, "were buried together, and the dust of the two still remains under the pavement inextricably blended."
The Lady Chapel, which is the aisle next to the north choir aisle, is sometimes called "the Dormitory," because many of the canons are buried here: the word being a literal translation of the Greek coemeterium (sleeping-place), applied to the catacombs of Rome. It was enlarged, with the Early English pillars and vaulting of the period, in the thirteenth century. The shafts are filleted, and the capitals carved in the characteristic curling foliage. It owes its position possibly to the original dedication of the eighth century church; though the Elder Lady Chapel of Bristol Cathedral, another Augustinian house, is similarly situated. Its eastern wall proves that it must have already existed long before the thirteenth century. The most casual observer will also be struck by the ingenuous clumsiness with which it has been patched together. There is a fine Decorated four-centred window at the East End, restored to its present condition from the mean two-light window that the seventeenth century had made of it: underneath, at the side of the blocked-up Saxon doorway, is a once richly coloured piscina, the outer moulding much damaged. The roof and arches of the second bay from the east bears many traces of colouring, which show among other things that the capitals were all painted green alike, the abaci red, and the ribs of the vault and arches red, green, and perhaps other colours. The figures of angels can be made out on the roof, a swinging censer being particularly clear. A glance from here at the high altar makes one realise how much more bright and strong the old colour was, and is indeed even now, than the modern. This decoration proves that in the second bay stood something of particular importance. It is generally agreed now that this was not the shrine of St. Frideswide but the altar of Our Lady, for shrines were placed behind and not before the altars. Such an arrangement would leave the eastern bay of the chapel free for the two shrines, the large one (commonly called the "Watching Chamber") and the small one recently discovered and placed opposite to it under the south-east arch. The fact that this arch is also coloured, and is the only other part which is thus treated, goes to prove that the small shrine did originally stand where it now is. Another sign is that the pillar nearest to the east end of it has been cut away, evidently to allow of a free passage round the shrine.