Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln: A Short Story of One of the Makers of Mediaeval EnglandMarson, Charles L. (Charles Latimer)
History
Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln: A Short Story of One of the Makers of Mediaeval England
Marson, Charles L. (Charles Latimer)
Hugh, of Lincoln, Saint, 1140-1200
Witham is a sort of glorified soup-plate, still bearing traces of its
old Selwood Forest origin, for the woodlands ring round it. The infant
river Avon creeps through its clayey bottom, and there are remains of
the old dams which pent it into fish-ponds. Of the convent nothing
remains except a few stumps in a field called "Buildings," unless the
stout foundations of a room, S.E. of the church, called the
reading-room, mark the guest house, as tradition asserts. Much of the
superstructure of this cannot go back beyond the early sixteenth
century, but the solid walls, the small size (two cottage area), allow
of the fancy that here was the site of many colloquies between our Hugh
and Henry Fitz-Empress.{1}
The church itself is one of the two erected by St. Hugh, partly with his
own hands. It is the lay brothers' church (called since pre-Franciscan
days, the Friary). The conventual church has left no wrack behind. The
style is entirely Burgundian, a single nave, with Romanesque windows,
ending in an apse. The "tortoise" roof, of vaulted stone, is as lovely
as it is severe. In 1760 the Tudor oaken bell-turret survived. The
horrid story of how a jerry-built tower was added and the old
post-Hugonian font built into it, how a new font was after long
interval added, does not concern us. The tower was happily removed, the
old font found and remounted (as if the text ran, "One faith, two
baptisms"), and a stone nozzle built to uphold three bells. The
buttresses are copied from St. Hugh's Lincoln work.
FOOTNOTES:
{1} The present Vicar is anxious to turn this place, which has been
alternately cottages, a lock-up, and a reading-room, into a lecture hall
and parish room; but the inhabitants, unworthy of their historical
glories, seem rather disposed to let the old building tumble into road
metal, to their great shame and reproach.
CHAPTER III
PRIOR HUGH
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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