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Updated: June 29, 2025
We have seen that at the time of Oxford's attempt she "laughed at the thing"; but now there had been so many shootings that "the thing" was getting tiresome and monotonous, and she did not interfere with the carrying out of the sentence of seven years' transportation. This was not the last.
She hid her age behind a veil. "How do you do, Mr. Farll?" she addressed him firmly, in a voice which nevertheless throbbed. It was Lady Sophia Entwistle. "How do you do?" he said, taking her offered hand. There was nothing else to do, and nothing else to say. Then Mr. Oxford put out his hand. "How do you do, Mr. Farll?" And, taking Mr. Oxford's hated hand, Priam said again, "How do you do?"
At last parted, and my wife and I by coach to the Opera, and there saw the 2nd part of "The Siege of Rhodes," but it is not so well done as when Roxalana was there, who, it is said, is now owned by my Lord of Oxford. Davenport, who was deceived by a pretended marriage with the Earl of Oxford, see ante. Lord Oxford's first wife died in 1659.
When I think of it as it then was, I am, aware of a medley of beautiful things pale sunlight on book-lined walls, or streaming through old armorial bearings on Tudor windows; spaces and distances, all books, beneath a painted roof from which gleamed the motto of the University Dominus illuminatio mea; gowned figures moving silently about the spaces; the faint scents of old leather and polished wood; and fusing it all, a stately dignity and benignant charm, through which the voices of the bells outside, as they struck each successive quarter from Oxford's many towers, seemed to breathe a certain eternal reminder of the past and the dead.
'Moses was not the first discoverer of the faith. Probably not, but Mr. Huxley seems to think that he was. A.W. Oxford, M.A., Vicar of St. Luke's, Soho. Here follows Mr. Oxford's undeniably 'short way with Jehovah. 'Moses was the founder of the Israelite religion. The first text says that, according to Moses, 'the Lord came from Sinai, rose up from Seir, and shone from Mount Paran.
True, Ernest was not thrown in with him much yet, but he was always there; there was no knowing at what moment he might not put in an appearance, and whenever he did show, it was to storm about something. He was like the lion in the Bishop of Oxford's Sunday story always liable to rush out from behind some bush and devour some one when he was least expected.
Of this exploit a poet sings: Here Oxford's hero, famous for his boar, While clashing swords upon his target sound, And showers of arrows from his breast rebound, Prepared for worst of fates, undaunted stood, And urged his heart into the rapid flood. The waves in triumph bore him, and were proud To sink beneath their honourable load.
It is tempting on this summer day to linger where grass is green and trees throw grateful shade; and indeed it would seem that few of all the many pens that have set down Oxford's charms have given their due to these her natural delights. But there is much that crowds into the mind and urgently complains lest there be not space enough to do them honour. What of her streets?
Priam growled. After a pause Mr. Oxford said, "I don't mind giving you the figure. I paid fifty pounds for it." "Did you!" exclaimed Priam, perceiving that some person or persons had made four hundred per cent. on his work by the time it had arrived at a big dealer. "Who was the fellow?" "Oh, a little dealer. Nobody. Jew, of course." Mr. Oxford's way of saying 'Jew' was ineffably ironic.
But there is far more than meets the eye, and the letters contain almost beyond doubt the disguised and detailed account of how the elector was robbed of his manuscripts, and how Zamboni defrauded the fraudulent librarian Buchels. Indeed the whole history of the Graevius manuscripts seems to be one of peculation, until they came into Lord Oxford's possession.
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