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1825.]
Mr. URBAN,

A

St. Michael's Church, Oxford.

Dec. 3.

LL the parish Churches of Oxford are, or till lately were, remarkable for their antiquity and interest. Several of these buildings have already been described in your Magazine. We shall now present your readers with some remarks on St. Michael's Church, situated on the East side of the Cornmarket. The annexed Engraving represents a S. W. view of the Edifice, (Plate I.) no part of which is distinctly seen by reason of a high, and not very ancient wall towards the South, and an accumulation of old and shabby tenements on the East and North sides, excepting the tower, which is at the West end, and though the plainest, is by many years, perhaps a century, the most ancient part of the whole edifice. In a word, it is Norman, having small windows of that character in the upper part, and having had one of longer dimensions in the West front towards the basement. The walls are built of rubble, but they are of great substance, and very strong; and though cracked in several places, and lately threatened with destruction, have been repaired, and are likely to stand securely for ages yet to come. On the North side of the body and chancel is an aile, to which is attached a small chapel, occupying the place, and having the appearance of a transept; and on the South side is a spacious chapel, which constitutes the chief ornament both of the exterior and interior of the Church. The space between this chapel and the tower is occupied by a very handsome window of the fifteenth century, and the porch, which, though, plain, is not inelegant.

The lancet style of architecture appears on the South side of the chancel; but the altar window, and that of the lateral aile, appearing over the roof of the low and ancient vestry, are in the style of the fifteenth century, and very elegant; and the heads carved on the corbels possess considerable merit.

489

one of considerable antiquity and beauty, A modern font occupies the place of which was some years back disgracefully turned into the Church-yard, from which indignity it was rescued by the venerable Alderman Fletcher, who had it conveyed to Yarnton, erected on a pedestal, and placed in the Church of that village in the room of a plain, but still more ancient font, which, however, is carefully preserved in another part of the interior.

The pillars and walls are ornamentpanels and canopied niches, the reed in many places with richly-carved mains of altars long since displaced. The following curious particulars are taken from a manuscript in the Museum at Oxford.

residing in this parish, did about the Dionysia Burewald, an opulent lady year 1260 build one of the chapels on the South-side of the Church, and dedicated it to the Virgin Mary, and had therein a chantry instituted by her, as also a priest to pray for her soul, and the souls of her relations; and also for the soul of one Burold who lived here in the reigns of Henry the First and Stephen; for the soul of Gilbert and Radulph Burewald her sons, together with Hugh Burewald; for Robert the son of Gilbert, and for several others of that name, and possessions within Oxford, and benefactors to religious houses, as ap"men of great wealth pears from St. Frideswide's, Osney, and Godstow Books." Another chanVirgin Mary's Chapel by one of the try seems to have been founded in the same name and family, if not by Dionysia herself. John Odyham, a rich Burgess of Oxford, who died anno for the souls of himself, and all his re1342, maintained one or two priests lations.

of Oxford, who died on the last of NoJohn Archer, another rich Burgess vember, anno 1524, and who with his The chancel arch has been modern-maintained two priests to pray for wife Agnes was buried in the Church, ized, but its ancient wooden screen re- their souls. tains its situation, and most of its ornaments. All the other arches of the interior have a handsome character; there are two on the South side of the body, three on the North side, and one on the same side of the chancel: the pillars are octagonal, and the capitals plain.

[graphic]

GENT. MAG. December, 1825.

2

ed glass in the windows, particularly
There are numerous relics of paint-
in those on the North side of the body;
but there are no perfect figures, or con-
siderable patterns,

monumental tablets, and the floor is
On the walls and pillars are several
thickly strewed with records of mor-

tality.

490

On the Personification of Death.

tality. Of these, none are of ancient
date, and not one sufficiently inter-
esting to be particularly noticed. The
extreme length of St. Michael's Church
is about 116 feet, and its greatest breadth
about 55 feet.
I. C. B.

Mr. URBAN,

IT is

Leicester, Dec. 5. Tis really astonishing that nearly all the attempts which have been hitherto made to personify Death, should have proceeded on the assumption, that the "potent Conqueror" is a skeleton-one of his own victims! An old acquaintance of mine, (Mr. Bisset of Leamington) once told me, that when a boy, and residing in his native country (Scotland), he was asked by a relation what he thought of Death?-and that his answer was, that if Death were what he was represented to be in his book of pictures, young as he then was, if he had his "Golf club," and was attacked by a score of such fellows, he would batter their sculls to atoms, and break every bone of their ribs! This anecdote most forcibly struck me, and has led me to my present communication.

66

The finest ideas on record as to Death, are those contained in the admirable Burial Service of our National Church-a service principally extracted from that fountain of light and truth, the Holy Bible. Now what are these ideas? Why, that Death, so far from being a Skeleton," is the "last enemy to be destroyed,"-one who shall put all things under his feet," one who at the last day, through the Divine Atonement, shall, to the righteous, lose his "sting," and claim no "victory." Can any representation therefore be correct which depicts this Hero as a chop-fallen and fleshless spectre-which depicts him as a shadow, who, the Bible tell us, is reign until flesh' shall be no

to " more?"

[Dee.

and of truth, which is too often disregarded, but which conscience and reflection will sometimes enforce:

"Mors ultima linea rerum est," was the sentiment of the ancient Bard, and the idea was perfectly correct, and who could be more capable of forming it than one who indulged every sensual appetite in this world, and who would therefore be the more cautious and reserved in his allusions to a state, the anticipation of which to him could afford no pleasure?

I am quite aware that my ideas on the subject are liable to criticism; that however I invite, for although a lover of antiquity, I never can allow that predilection to induce the advocacy of a practice, which, (as I view it) outrages common sense, and (what is of far more consequence) insults the Deity.

J. STOCKDALE HARDY.

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AS I have too much regard for you to suffer you to figure before the present generation and posterity as one of the long-eared tribe, without a serious effort on my part to prevent it, I impose on myself the very disagreeable penance of writing a long letter, in the hope it may prove a means of deterring you from the unphilosophical and Quixotic attempt to change the name of the parish over which you have had the honour to be appointed spiritual pastor. Why, the hot summer, which, Death rides throughout the world partly through your instrumentality, dispensing happiness and misery, but has caused me so much bodily inconhe rides not as a skeleton, but as venience, must surely have totally evaan illustrious conqueror;-his steed, porated your modicum of common though "pale," is fiery, and recog- sense; and the heat which has cracked nizes no distinctions-with one foot the pannels of your doors and cupon Royalty, another on Shakspeare, a boards, must certainly have cracked third on Pitt, and a fourth on Byron, your poor brain also. To hear a man, he "wings his way," while his rider flourishes a sword above his head entrusted to him by Omnipotence, and reads to all who now tarry in this carthly passage, a lesson of humility

a full-grown man,-a man who can read and write a man who has mixed with cultivated society-a man who can talk very rationally about many matters, a Scotchman, -a clergy

man

1825.]

History of the Church and Priory of Swine.

man-in the nineteenth century,speak seriously of changing the name of a parish! Ridiculous! I will venture to say, that the majority of persons who ever occupied their heads with thinking five minutes in their lives, would consider me as maliciously libelling you, if I were to tell them you had any such intention. Have you considered what it is you propose to effect? Did you ever hear of a private individual changing a name recognized in legal documents, and which had prevailed for near a thousand years? The most incorrigible visionary never indulged a dream more wild. You may just as rationally expect to tame the raging ocean, or silence the howling storm. There are but few instances on record of even monarchs having accomplished such a metamorphosis, and that by the aid of some new incident of local interest, a population willing and anxious to co-operate, and Acts of Parliament and other expensive formalities.

And this name, towards which you have conceived so foolish an antipathy, and which you would so wantonly annihilate, is not only venerable from its antiquity, but exceedingly honourable in its import, as I shall bye and bye take the trouble to convince you. How shameful would success be, were it even possible for you to insure it! I look upon the appellations given to districts and objects by our remote forefathers (and what educated Englishman does not?) as something sacred. They uniformly excite my reverence. They at once inform the head and affect the heart. They are so many monuments of the illustrious personages and transactions of the olden time. as we would some venerated tomb in a sacred edifice. We may be permitted occasionally to wipe away the dust, to bring our optics as near as possible, and to decipher the inscription as well as our portion of skill and learning will permit. But every thing beyond this is sacrilege, and I should scarcely regret if the penalty were excommunication. A man of good taste (and good taste is much more nearly allied to good feeling than most people imagine,) would no more consent to the extirpation of an ancient name, than he would lend his hand to demolish an ancient

We should treat them

491

structure. Nay, he would no more presume to alter such a name, than he would presume to modernize or repair a Gothic abbey or castellated mansion, which had fallen into picturesque decay. As the very ruin forms the grand charm in the one case, so does that tinge of obscurity, that affinity to the obsolete, which the changes in our changing language during so long a period must naturally impart, in the other. In the former we discern the characteristic touch, in the latter we distinguish the peculiar accent, of that exquisite artist, that eloquent moralist, Time; and the Goth who is dissatisfied with either, should be sent forthwith to vegetate in the United States of America, or the settlements of New South Wales, or some country equally destitute of ancient recollections, and of names of longer standing than a generation or two. Away with such a contemptible breed from glorious Old England, mine and my family's Father-land-they are literally Swine, and should go, not to Swine in Holderness, but to some congenial stye, where they can munch their tasteless husks, without vexing our more patriotic spirits by defiling and gnawing the pearls which our progenitors have here so plentifully scattered for our intellectual benefit wherever they may happen to turn. Away with them: they can well be spared: they belong to that class which Shakspeare has particularized as having no music in their souls. But surely my friend Milne has no ambition to be in this sense a SwineHerd. Now that the hot weather has departed, I confidently expect his wonted good sense will return, and chase from his mind the absurd scheme which has so unaccountably obtained a transient lodgment there.

And pray, what inducement can you possibly have for performing this unheard of freak? Why truly, the Vicar of Swine is a title which holds out a most tempting lure to any graceless wag, who, like myself, may occasionally indulge in cracking a joke at a friend's

expense.

This may be very terrific to

a weak mind, but what mind of ordinary powers would condescend to be scared by such a bugbear? Did you ever hear of Cicero quarreling with his name, because it happened not only to sound like, but absolutely to mean

Pimple

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