Elizabeth
Walrod
E603B
World Lit.
25
February 2004
Project
1: Draft 1
Background: The correspondence takes place circa
1239 between Master Adam Rufus of Oxford University and myself. Through letters Rufus is know to have
been a student at Oxford during this time and a pupil of Robert Grosseteste,
Oxfords most esteemed professor of the day. Little is known about the actual Rufus other that in the
early 1230’s he joined the Franciscans and died in route to the Holy Land
(Southern).
Dear
Elizabeth,
In the mornings until noon break I attend lectures
on theology given by Robert Grosseteste.
He is unlike any instructor I have yet had. My other teachers who drone
on and on about texts and treatises passed down for centuries. His words are intense and gripping, and
there is an “intense earnestness and power in” his tone (Southern 13). Before Oxford they say he was a man of
science, that he wrote a great commentary on Aristotle’s’ Physics that is still in use today (Southern). But here he is a man of God. Yesterday his lecture stemmed from the
question “‘Is God first Form and Form of all things?’” (Southern 32). His answer, a strong yes, made the more
cautious of his students wary, for such an answer was treated as heresy barely
twenty years ago in Paris (Southern).
In the few years I have been his pupil I have witnessed a transformation
in the man. Last November he
emerged from a sermon given by Fr. Jordan of Saxony on the pitfalls of academic
pride with a new humility in his countenance. He told his students “I can only hope that others may be
stimulated to enquire more deeply, and to do better, and to discover more than
I have been able to find out,” (Southern vii). These words inspire but also
trouble me. There is a rumor we
shall loose him to the Franciscans soon.
Generic Goodbye,
Adam
Rufus
Dear
Adam,
Do
you ever feel compelled to seek solitude?
As though your whole world would shatter around you if you heard
another’s voice. There is a
courtyard inside of Goldsmith Hall where I go to be alone. It’s cool limestone
walls rise up around me in calming geometric purity. My frantic thoughts are dispelled by its tranquil
symmetry. The benches so orderly,
three to a side; the grass tended carefully, never overgrown. In the center a rectangular fountain
has fallen into rusty disuse, a sign of decay amidst perfection. Going there is a soothing relief after
a day of pushing through the masses of students, mouths that rarely smile at
strangers and eyes that slide away before they must endure the awkwardness of
contact. You will have to excuse
the melancholy of this letter. It
was raining today and rain always seems to draw me into its sadness.
Generic
Goodbye,
Elizabeth
Dear
Elizabeth,
It rains far too much
in England for me to let a little damp send me into the doldrums. Though I do understand your need for
space. I was born in the
countryside to parents of comfortable if not impressive means. One quickly learns in this time that
“the highest aims of literate men not favored by family connections or patrons
[may only be] a modest employment in local courts or in the household of a
local magnate,” (Southern 54). So
while I live in this city and aspire to a future that will keep me forever tied
to one, I at times find myself missing the quiet of the country. Here such a need is easily filled,
Oxford is yet a rude and humble place, where the countryside butts up against
our doorsteps. Some afternoons I
find myself wandering along the outer wall of the Augustinian Priory. It is in fact not an old structure,
built in the last century over the site of St. Frideswide’s Abbey, but the
eternal wet and the ever spreading moss of this land soon makes even the newest
domiciles seem ancient (Hollister).
I come here whenever the days are clear, though with my back against the
stones and the sun upon my face I find that sleep comes more often than
studious contemplations.
Yours,
Adam Rufus
Dear
Elizabeth,
There
are times when one must think our university to be in rebellion. Master Grosseteste claims the Latin of
Aristotle is unintelligible, and encourages Greeks to come to Oxford so that
they may be translated better (Bridges).
Master Bacon goes a step farther and proposes that the study of language
should become part of our curriculum.
Needless to say, the other masters are not pleased with this attack on
their precious Latin (Bridges). He
wants us to not only study Greek, but Hebrew, Arabic, and Chaldæan as
well. Perhaps our esteemed master
does not feel that we have a heavy enough load as it is. As it is the man may lecture for hours
on theological minutiae. How much
better they have it in Bologna, where I am told dons are required to actually
finish on time.
Yours,
Adam
Rufus
Dear
Adam,
Ash
Wednesday was yesterday; I did not go to church. Though I never though I would, I miss going to mass. After twelve years of parochial
schooling I though I would enjoy going to such a secular university, but I have
found that is not always the case.
I do not miss the one-way thinking or the forced rituals, but there was
a comfort in tradition that is lacing here. They try to put up a good façade here. Seals of the worlds most prestigious
universities, your Oxford included, adorn the main building. Our own is placed prominently in their
midst as though to imply our assured position among them. The Madonna holds Jesus and John the
Baptist as she looks down benevolently from Sutton Hall, but the effect is more
pretensions of antiquity than an expression of faith. There is something lacking here, a sense of time and
permanence. Though I suspect that
failing is more an uncertainty within myself than a failing in my
university. You said with some
certainty that you would one day leave the university to become a clerk of sorts,
but I have no similar conviction about my occupation in four years. There is fear in being able to freely
choose one’s future. True it is
negligible in the face of the alternative, but it is something that makes
itself known nonetheless.
Generic closing,
Elizabeth
Dear
Elizabeth,
Here
they seem more interested in the new than preserving a façade of the past. Already surveyors have come to
determine where the new cathedral will stand. It seems that no university is worthy of the title unless it
may claim alliance with a great place of worship. Paris has Notre Dame, Salamanca was born within it’s
cathedral’s walls and soon Oxford will have Christ Church (Hollister). It is over the site of the
priory where Christ Church will be built.
Even though I know the outcome will be magnificent, I cannot help but
regret that. It seems I will loose
a favored haunt in this drive to attain the distinction of “stadium general,”
(Hollister 293). I am beginging to
understand why Grosseteste was so moved by Jordan of Saxony’s words. In light of recent events I begin to
feel more and more the need for humility in scholarship.
Hugs and kisses,
Adam Rufus