A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War. Everett-Green Evelyn
come along, let us to dinner, and ye shall tell your news."
CHAPTER V
THE NEW LIFE
Before a week had passed away, Leofric and Jack felt as though they had been months at Oxford, so many new experiences had been crowded into that short space.
The more they saw of the strange life of the place, the more glad were they of the chance which had given to them this little private shelter of their own, instead of casting them amongst a number of strange clerks in one of the poorer Halls or lodgings of the city.
For in the days of its infancy the University had enough to do in protecting its own liberties from outside attack. It was therefore unable to exercise individual authority over its heterogeneous members. It provided instruction for them, it guarded their persons jealously from assaults from without, and fought their battle right lustily when jealous townsmen or papal emissaries sought to interfere with liberty or life. But for the rest, the clerks and scholars lived in a state of glorious and almost barbaric liberty, and all that Chancellor or Proctors could hope to attempt was to restrain any serious outbreaks of violence, either between clerks and citizens, or between the various sections of the clerks themselves.
Open rioting in the streets was checked as far as possible; but an immense amount of roistering and disorder could and did prevail without let or hindrance, and there was no certainty from day to day that some bloody collision might not occur in the city which might have a serious termination.
Stories were told of clerks who had been set upon and killed by angry citizens, of citizens who had been slain by clerks, of Masters even who had met with injuries too often fatal in their effects, sometimes from the hands of citizens, sometimes from those of scholars inflamed by passion or drink.
There had been times when the King had had to interfere in order to calm the strife between the contending parties. There had also been times when the Masters and scholars had deserted Oxford by hundreds, if not thousands, and had threatened to establish themselves in other localities. This had been done when the citizens had put upon them some marked indignity and affront, and had generally resulted in the submission and humiliation of the town. For, as was pointed out to the burgesses, the importance and prosperity of Oxford mainly depended upon the presence there of this school of learning, and if they drove away the scholars by their ill-judged enmity, they were signing the death-warrant of their own city.
It was often to these quarrels and their adjudication that the endowments (if such a word can be employed) of the University were owed. The citizens would submit, and agree to pay so many marks a year in token of their penitence, and these moneys were called "chests," and formed a fund from which poor scholars might borrow without interest, leaving a pledge behind; and private individuals would sometimes start a similar chest, from which system gradually developed the scholarships and exhibitions of our own days.
But the life of the infant University was a very strange one as compared with the collegiate system which gradually grew out of it. Thirteen or fourteen was a common age for a youth to commence life as a clerk, and even at that tender age very little supervision was given him.
Originally the University copied to a certain extent the guilds of a city corporation, and as a seven years' apprenticeship was imposed upon lads entering trade guilds, so a seven years' course was expected of a student between the date of his entry as a clerk and the time at which he might take his M.A. degree. In the previous century there were regular University guilds, and as the University was international, and men from all countries came thither, these guilds naturally partook of a national character, men of the same language consorting together, so that different Halls became associated with the names of different nationalities.
Even amongst the inhabitants of the British Isles there were distinctions and race divisions. The Welsh formed a colony of their own, whilst North and South were the two main factions in the place in the thirteenth century, and these brawled terribly at times between themselves.
Even when no actual brawling was going on, the streets of Oxford after dusk were places where it was needful to walk warily. By day studies and games occupied the clerks the best part of their time; but with the setting of the sun a stop was put to these occupations. Candles were dear, firing was often scanty, and the close, ill-smelling Halls, where the rush-strewn floors were often not cleaned for weeks together, became almost intolerable when shut up. Naturally enough, the clerks preferred to sally forth into the streets, some to drink or sing songs at the taverns, others to parade the streets, shouting and joking, and playing any pranks that entered their heads. When it is remembered that almost every person in those days carried arms of some sort, and that the most trifling quarrel provoked blows, it may well be understood that the evening hours in the city were anything but peaceful, and some sympathy can be felt with the citizens in their enmity towards the gownsmen, even though these were a source of profit to them.
Evening by evening Leofric and Jack heard hideous sounds of drunken revelry proceeding from the various streets in the vicinity, and if ever they had the curiosity to parade the town after dark, they were amazed at the disorder and violence which seemed to prevail.
"I had thought," said Leofric, "that Oxford would be full of grave and reverend doctors, whose presence would impose order and gravity upon all. But methinks it is full of wantonness and revelling and fighting. Right glad am I, good Jack, that we have our own little nest on the walls. I should be loth indeed to belong to yonder herd."
Jack was not quite so particular, and a frolic in the streets, so long as things did not go too far, was rather agreeable to him than otherwise. Sometimes he would steal out, whilst Leofric was poring over his illuminating work, and enjoy a stroll with some of the clerks of the better sort with whom he had made acquaintance, and as he grew used to the strange ways of the city, he found much to amuse and interest him.
Leofric had purchased, with the money given him by the Abbot of Osney, some materials to enable him to work at the illumination of his vellum leaves, and was doing some fine and beautiful illumination which was certain to fetch him a good sum at some wealthy man's house. Jack looked on in amaze at his skill, but sometimes felt the time hang a little heavy. On such occasions he would sally forth to do the necessary marketings, or to collect fuel, and so forth; and often Hugh le Barbier would drop in to watch Leofric at his toil and exchange ideas with him on many subjects.
Hugh was of a studious turn, and he had the same sort of refined instinct as Leofric, and shrank from the tumult and rowdiness of the streets. He had not yet succeeded in finding a Hall quite to his mind, and was lodging at present at "Dagville's Inn" (now the Mitre), which belonged in those days to one Philip Pady, a burgess, who had rented it to an Italian of the name of Pedro Balzani, who had lived long in the city, and made an excellent innkeeper, having great skill in culinary matters, and a good English wife who understood the likings of her countrymen.
"Thou must come and sup with me one of these days," said Hugh one day, as he sat with Leofric after Jack had sauntered forth. "I have a comfortable chamber enow, though somewhat chilly when the wind is riotous; but I have found favour in the eyes of mine host, and I take my meals with him and his family. This is not a grace he accords to all who come, nor even to all who stay long in his house, as I am doing. And, in truth, he does right to be cautious; for he has a pair of wonderfully beauteous daughters, twin sisters, and so much alike that it was long before I knew one from the other."
Leofric looked up with a gleam of interest in his eyes.
"Beautiful, thou sayest? I was wondering if perchance I could find in this place a beautiful face; for see thou here, I would fain on this square of vellum portray an angel with a roll in his hands, upon which I shall inscribe, in fine penmanship, certain prayers. I have some small skill in drawing faces. I used to amuse the monks of St. Michael by taking likenesses of them, and they said I did it well. But it is not easy to find a face for an angel, though there are some pretty lads here and there walking the streets. I wonder if I could find an inspiration in the face of your twin sisters."
"Thou shalt come and see," quoth Hugh eagerly; "methinks it would please them well to be thus portrayed. For my part, I think that Linda's face would be the better; it is ofttimes full of a sweet seriousness and repose, whereas Lotta is all sparkle and fire; and it is by these two expressions