saint catherine’s chapel.
at the period of our history the finishing-point to the beauty of saint catherine’s hill was given by an exquisite gothic chapel placed upon its summit. erected in the 13th century, this little temple was much resorted to by the devout on account of the reliques it contained of saints birinus, swithun, and ethelwold. within in might also be seen a ploughshare which, while red hot, had been trodden upon without injury by the beautiful queen emma, mother of edward the confessor. constant pilgrimages were made to the shrine, and on the festival of saint catherine, to whom the chapel was dedicated, a long procession of religious personages of both sexes, headed by the bishop of winchester, and accompanied by an immense concourse, came forth from the city and ascended the hill, when the bishop and those with him entering the chapel, placed rich gifts upon the altar. at such times, the spectacle of the vast assemblage kneeling around the little fane, or raising the choral hymn to heaven, must have been highly impressive. formerly, saint catherine’s chapel had been well endowed, but its revenues were appropriated by wolsey to his “twins of learning,” ipswich and oxford. from this time, until the return to the old worship under mary, the place was completely neglected. restored by gardiner, an aged priest, father jerome, who had officiated within it in former days, was appointed to its care. at the 118same time its precious reliques were brought back. luckily, during the season of its desecration, it had sustained no material injury—its extraordinary reputation for sanctity having probably saved it—and it was now nearly as beautiful as ever. as least, its custodian, good father jerome, thought so.
in the olden time, it had been customary with devotees, after early immersion in the clear waters of the itchen, to repair to saint catherine’s chapel, hear matins, and perform other devotional exercises. this practice, healthful alike to body and soul, was now revived. welcome to father jerome were all who came there to pray.
at an early hour on the morning of the third day after the prince of spain’s public entry into southampton, a remarkably handsome young gallant—tall, graceful in figure and deportment, and very becomingly attired in a doublet of green velvet, slashed with white silk, and wearing a small velvet beret of the some colour, adorned with a white plume, on his head—issued from the south gate of winchester, and passing through the grove of stately elms, colonised by rooks, then environing this side of the ancient city, struck across the charming valley watered by the itchen.
the morning was lovely enough to have tempted the veriest sluggard to quit his couch, and our handsome young galliard seemed fully alive to its beauties. the sun had but just o’ertopped sweet saint catherine’s hill. the grass was heavy with dew, and a thin haze hung in some parts of the valley, but this quickly disappeared. all nature looked bright and smiling. the warblers of the grove carolled blithely, the larks soared aloft rejoicingly, and a cloud of clamorous rooks, quitting the tall trees near the city, winged their way towards the marsh lands further south. scared by the young man’s approach, the stately heron started from the river in which he was fishing, while other aquatic fowl dived beneath the green water-weeds and disappeared.
at no time are we so susceptible to nature’s beauties as at early morn. our senses of delight are quicker then than at any other season, and invigorated by the freshness of the atmosphere, we find something to charm in every object we behold. so it was with the young gallant in question. he was familiar with the scene around him, yet he discovered 119beauties in it of which he had been hitherto unconscious. his eye ranged along the valley through which strayed the winding itchen, pleased with all it encountered, until his gaze settled on the secluded hospital of saint croix.
never before, it seemed to him, had the ancient edifice looked so lovely, so sequestered, as it did now. though partially screened by trees, enough was visible to evidence its size and architectural beauty—the lofty gateway, the roofs of the quadrangular courts, and the square tower of the reverend church. a slight mist, enveloping but not hiding the outline of the pile, gave it a dreamlike character.
the hospital of saint croix was even then more than three hundred years old, having been erected in 1136 by bishop henry de blois, of whom previous mention has been made. it was subsequently enlarged by cardinal beaufort, and is still, we are happy to say, in an admirable state of preservation. here the hospitality of monkish times is still practised on a small scale. like many other similar institutions in winchester and elsewhere, saint croix was deprived of its rents and revenues by henry viii., but sufficient was fortunately saved from the spoiler’s grasp to preserve it from utter extinction. new life was communicated to the decaying old hospital by mary, and it was the thought of its unexpected revival that gave it special interest in the eyes of the young man who now gazed upon it. contrasting its present condition with the past, he rejoiced that a fabric so lovely, and designed for such benevolent purposes, should have escaped destruction.
after indulging in these reflections for a brief space, he walked on, bestowing a glance as he crossed the wooden bridge over the itchen at the trout shooting through the clear stream. he had now reached the foot of saint catherine’s hill, whither, apparently, he was bound, and disdaining to take the easy but circuitous path conducting to the little chapel, he speeded up the steepest part of the acclivity, across the danish entrenchment, and did not halt for a moment till he gained the summit of the hill. he then turned to enjoy the splendid prospect commanded from the spot of the ancient city and its environs, which we have already endeavoured to bring before the reader.
while he was thus occupied, the door of the little chapel 120was opened by a priest of venerable and benevolent aspect, who stepped towards him, bade him a kindly good morrow, and bestowed a benison upon him.
“what brings master osbert clinton to saint catherine’s hill so early?” inquired the old priest.
“nothing more than to hear matins in your chapel, good father jerome,” replied osbert. “i trust i am in time.”
“you are in ample time, my son,” replied the old priest, smiling. “matins have not yet been said, and will not commence for half an hour. except myself, you are the first on saint catherine’s hill this blessed morning. indeed, i marvel to see you here so soon. that a young gallant like master osbert clinton, engaged in all the gaieties of court, should have come to this little chapel to pray at so early an hour, argues a strength of devotion for which, i own, i scarcely give him credit.”
“i will not attempt to deceive you, good father,” returned osbert. “it is not merely the desire to pray within your chapel that has brought me here, but the hope of meeting a fair maiden——”
“dare you make such an avowal to me, young sir?” interrupted father jerome, in a tone of stern rebuke.
“nay father, be not angry with me,” said osbert. “you will pardon me, i am sure, when you know my motive. my object is to caution the damsel, and this is the only opportunity i may have of doing so.”
“methinks i know the damsel you allude to, my son,” returned father jerome. “mistress constance tyrrell, is it not? she was here yesterday, and after performing her devotions, poured forth the secrets of her heart to me, and besought my counsel.”
“you are aware, then, of the perilous position in which she is placed, and of the necessity of extricating her from it without delay?”
“i know she is beloved by some exalted personage, and that she is full of apprehension——”
“well may she be so, holy father,” said osbert. “i dare not tell you by whom she is beloved. suffice it, that her position at court is fraught with peril. but it shall be my business to guard her.”
121“you love her, then, my son?” observed father jerome.
“passionately,” replied osbert. “but i have not yet ventured to tell her of my love.”
“you are encouraging a hopeless passion, my son, and i beseech you to check it while you can. but what tidings do you bring of the prince of spain? when comes he from southampton?”
“this very day,” returned osbert. “i am to form part of the train which will escort his highness hither. we shall set forth at noon, at which hour the prince, with a large cavalcade, will leave southampton, so we shall meet him midway.”
“i am told he is a well-favoured prince, but haughty and reserved of manner,” remarked father jerome.
“i have not found him so,” replied osbert. “to me he has been singularly condescending, and, indeed, he is gracious to all.”
“i am right glad to hear it. that speaks well for him. long and earnestly have i prayed that our good queen’s union may be happy. much does our holy church owe her. look down upon that city, my son. regard those monasteries, convents, and hospitals. they have all been restored by her. once more within yon noble cathedral mass is celebrated, and all the rites of the romish church performed. to queen mary we owe this blessed change. by her saint croix has likewise been restored, and it is to her benign influence that this little chapel has been again opened for worship—that the reliques of the saints have been brought back to it—and that i, myself, am enabled to officiate within it. by queen mary heresy and schism have been overthrown, and our holy church delivered from bondage. may heaven long preserve her! she is our hope and strength—our pillar and defence.”
“i cry ‘amen’ to that prayer with all my heart,” said osbert. “heaven grant the prince may prove a good husband to her!”
“you speak as if you doubted it, my son,” rejoined father jerome. “but i cannot tarry for further converse. i must leave you now. the hour for matins is at hand. after prayers, if you have aught further to say to me, i shall be at your service.”
122with this, he re-entered the chapel, and presently a bell began to ring. many persons, chiefly country-folk, obeyed the summons, coming from different parts of the valley, and entered the chapel, the door of which now stood open.
osbert, however, did not enter with them, as he had caught sight of two female devotees slowly ascending the hill, in whom he recognised constance tyrrell and her old attendant, dorcas. he waited till they gained the brow of the eminence, and then advancing towards the damsel, respectfully saluted her. her appearance surprised and distressed him. she looked sad and pale, and traces of recent tears were on her cheeks. scarcely returning his salutation, she entered the chapel, followed by old dorcas, who appeared to be as full of affliction as her young mistress. osbert went in after them, and knelt down by the side of constance at the altar. but she did not once look towards him, and, indeed, seemed wholly unconscious of his presence.
at the close of the service, osbert quitted the chapel with the country-folk, and waited outside, thinking constance would soon come forth. but he was doomed to disappointment. more than an hour elapsed, and she did not appear. at the expiration of that time the chapel door was opened by father jerome, who looked very grave. addressing osbert, the old priest said, “do not tarry here longer, my son. mistress constance tyrrell has much to say to me, and seeks my ghostly counsel.”
“but i will wait for her, good father,” cried osbert. “i care not how long i stay. i must speak with her.”
“impossible! my son,” replied father jerome. “i enjoin you to depart. constance does not desire to see you. stifle the unfortunate passion you have conceived for her. it can never be requited.”
“in heaven’s name what has happened, good father? tell me, i adjure you?” cried osbert.
“question me not, but go!” said father jerome, authoritatively. “constance will not come forth while you remain here. i myself will accompany her to winchester.”
“but will you tell me nothing more? will you not give me a hope?” ejaculated osbert, despairingly.
123the old priest shook his head, and, with a compassionate glance at him, closed the door, and bolted it inside.
osbert was half inclined to force an entrance into the chapel, but feeling the impropriety of such a proceeding, he tore himself away, and rushed wildly down the hill, scarcely knowing whither he went.
