The Angel on the High Street
(Incorporating The Diggers’ Song by Gerard Winstanley, 1649)
“The first coffee house in all of England”
read the freshly-painted sandwich board outside
and as I walked through The Angel’s doors
that bright mid-morning in early June
a dizzying, earthy, bitter-sweet cloud of vapour
engulfed
and possessed
and bewitched me
Stopped me in my steps
and made me close my eyes
and through my quivvering, inquisitive nostrils
fill my lungs with such richly-scented air to overflowing
When I opened my eyes
there behind the counter
stood three complete strangers
who, over those summer months, were to become my cherished friends
Jacob the Jew, proud proprietor of that pioneering venture
and a brave man to weather England’s ancient spite
Murad the Turk, proud importer, down from London to oversee the opening
and Hannah – well,
Hannah was called many things
They were strange and pregnant times in Oxford that summer
strange and pregnant times throughout the land
the king’s head recently severed
the Commonwealth declared
and despite the recent executions at Burford
I still wore my Leveller’s green ribbon with pride
Our hopes for a far better world
had not yet been extinguished
Murad was teaching Hannah the trade
pouring freshly-brewed coffee from a large tin kettle
into a handsome, three-legged, freshly-polished copper pot
as reverently as any Roman Catholic priest
filling the chalice with consecrated wine
“Welcome, brave Leveller,” said Jacob
which made me smile
Murad looked up and bowed his head as respectfully as only Turks know how
and then placed a minaret-shaped lid upon the pot
And Hannah
Hannah just glanced her eyelids briefly upwards
but instantly I was smitten
as many of us were
A Jew and a Mohammedan and a Christian
– albeit of a very unorthodox kind –
The New Jerusalem indeed!
It was by far the best penny I’ve ever spent
I carried my steaming cup to the sunny corner of the shop
sat down
lifted the porcelain rim to my lips
and welcomed into my mouth and belly and blood and mind
a liquid black hell that tasted of liquid black heaven
For the second time in a day, I was smitten
A locksmith I recognised from Saint Ebbes
asked if he could join me
“I noticed your ribbon,” he said
and we struck up friendship straight away
William he was
a refugee from the Diggers’ failed Utopia at Wellingborough
but eyes still burning with revolutionary fire
Spurred by this dark and wondrous new-fangled brew
we talked and argued and laughed for hours
our tongues and minds galloping with such a swift and playful
coffee-bourne delight
Our corner of the shop soon became known as Dreamers’ Corner
Given that Jacob observed both the Hebrew and the Christian Sabbaths
Thursday nights became our main debating nights
and as long as there were at least still six of us still purchasing at a regular pace
we often made it through til Friday dawn
and given that I was then a groundsman at Magdalen
conveniently – and still buzzing like a bee – straight to work
The basic rules were soon established:
No drunks
No topic denied
All stations equal
Attack the argument but not the man
And don’t forget to look each man in the eye before you leave
Oh, such a precious pocket of freedom we enjoyed and sustained all summer long
despite all the news that crossed the Angel’s threshold
almost daily chronicling the brand new Commonwealth’s decline
And that July evening!
That July evening!
When one of our number made the mistake
– we must have been debating property and suffrage yet again –
of asking Hannah for her opinion from behind the counter
“It’s simple,” she declared
“One man, one vote...”
But through all the jeers and the cheers
she hushed us all
held the room in the palm of her hand
and continued
“...and one woman, one vote as well”
Well, I have never seen nor heard Agitators and Puritans and closet Royalists
so united
But once the uproar had died down
William asked her to expound
“Gentlemen,” she repied
“My argument is a simple one:
either everyone dances
or nobody dances.
And, pray
what is a dance
without a woman?”
Well! The second uproar was even louder
but now woven through with astonished laughter
“That lass speaks as if she is an equal!” spluttered one of the Puritans into his cup
and he didn’t mean it as a compliment
“She speaks like that Ranter, Coppe!” declared another
which carried more than a touch of menace
for Oxford’s very own Abeizer Coppe was then languishing in Newgate Prison
and his books had been burned on Broad Street
Hannah just stood there, like a firmly-rooted oak at the centre of a passing storm
I suspect that’s when William and Hannah finally fell in love
– or, rather, when Hannah finally deigned to return his love
He was a handsome rogue, William, I’ll give him that
But, as Solomon so wisely declared
there is a time to weep and a time to laugh
a time to mourn and a time to dance
and all seasons must surrender
to the next
It was early September
the week of the Saint Giles Fair
and we’d been up all night and
– no man for property or rules –
William broke us into Saint Mary’s
and he and myself and Hannah ascended the tower’s narrowly spiralling steps
carrying a freshly-brewed pot
and three chipped cups
laughing and giggling and shushing like naughty children
Well, it was the first and only time I’ve ever ascended that tower
and the view that we stepped out into
it made me feel like a king
the king of everything I see
the whole of Oxford spread before and all around us
its multitude of spires and towers and pampered cloisters
Christ Church meadow shrouded with the night-time’s gently-stirring mist
the forests of Wytham to the north-west and Shotover to the east
both straining with a deep and dark, dawn-lit green
And as Hannah poured the coffee
and I packed my pipe with tobacco
William raised his chin
opened his throat
and struck up with one of Winstanley’s songs:
You noble Diggers all, stand up now, stand up now,
You noble Diggers all, stand up now,
The waste land to maintain, seeing Cavaliers by name
Your digging do disdain and your persons all defame
Stand up now, Diggers all.
Your houses they pull down, stand up now, stand up now,
Your houses they pull down, stand up now.
Your houses they pull down to fright poor men in town,
But the gentry must come down and the poor shall wear the crown.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
With spades and hoes and ploughs, stand up now, stand up now,
With spades and hoes and ploughs, stand up now.
Your freedom to uphold, seeing Cavaliers are bold
To kill you if they could and rights from you withhold.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
Their self-will is their law, stand up now, stand up now,
Their self-will is their law, stand up now.
Since tyranny came in they count it now no sin
To make a gaol a gin and to serve poor men therein.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The gentry are all round, stand up now, stand up now,
The gentry are all round, stand up now.
The gentry are all round, on each side they are found,
Their wisdom’s so profound to cheat us of the ground.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The lawyers they conjoin, stand up now, stand up now,
The lawyers they conjoin, stand up now,
To arrest you they advise, such fury they devise,
But the devil in them lies, and hath blinded both their eyes.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The clergy they come in, stand up now, stand up now,
The clergy they come in, stand up now.
The clergy they come in and say it is a sin
That we should now begin our freedom for to win.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
’Gainst lawyers and ’gainst priests, stand up now, stand up now,
’Gainst lawyers and ’gainst Priests, stand up now.
For tyrants are they both even flat against their oath,
To grant us they are loath free meat and drink and cloth.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The club is all their law, stand up now, stand up now,
The club is all their law, stand up now.
The club is all their law to keep poor folk in awe,
That they no vision saw to maintain such a law.
Glory now, Diggers all.
And then, as if on the instructions of an attending angel
the red diamond light of the rising sun
suddenly broke through Shotover’s horizon
and I swear
the unspeakable mysteries of earth and heaven and hell
flashed through all our eyes
and into our hearts
but were just as quickly
forgotten
We all stood in a silence
as deep as the deepest ocean
But as I swirled my cup to settle the dregs
Hannah turned to me and quietly said
“We’ll both miss you when we’re gone”
I opened my mouth to question her
but William put his finger to his lips
Levity had now turned to severity in his eyes
“Tell not a soul,” he said
And I felt a new and real fear
spread like ice within my blood
– for we all could feel Cromwell’s
hungry grip tightening –
and my dreamer’s heart
it plummeted like a cannon ball made of lead
For in that instant
I knew that our summer of coffee-fuelled freedom was truly over
and I knew also
that I’d never taste
such a summer as this again
(Incorporating The Diggers’ Song by Gerard Winstanley, 1649)
“The first coffee house in all of England”
read the freshly-painted sandwich board outside
and as I walked through The Angel’s doors
that bright mid-morning in early June
a dizzying, earthy, bitter-sweet cloud of vapour
engulfed
and possessed
and bewitched me
Stopped me in my steps
and made me close my eyes
and through my quivvering, inquisitive nostrils
fill my lungs with such richly-scented air to overflowing
When I opened my eyes
there behind the counter
stood three complete strangers
who, over those summer months, were to become my cherished friends
Jacob the Jew, proud proprietor of that pioneering venture
and a brave man to weather England’s ancient spite
Murad the Turk, proud importer, down from London to oversee the opening
and Hannah – well,
Hannah was called many things
They were strange and pregnant times in Oxford that summer
strange and pregnant times throughout the land
the king’s head recently severed
the Commonwealth declared
and despite the recent executions at Burford
I still wore my Leveller’s green ribbon with pride
Our hopes for a far better world
had not yet been extinguished
Murad was teaching Hannah the trade
pouring freshly-brewed coffee from a large tin kettle
into a handsome, three-legged, freshly-polished copper pot
as reverently as any Roman Catholic priest
filling the chalice with consecrated wine
“Welcome, brave Leveller,” said Jacob
which made me smile
Murad looked up and bowed his head as respectfully as only Turks know how
and then placed a minaret-shaped lid upon the pot
And Hannah
Hannah just glanced her eyelids briefly upwards
but instantly I was smitten
as many of us were
A Jew and a Mohammedan and a Christian
– albeit of a very unorthodox kind –
The New Jerusalem indeed!
It was by far the best penny I’ve ever spent
I carried my steaming cup to the sunny corner of the shop
sat down
lifted the porcelain rim to my lips
and welcomed into my mouth and belly and blood and mind
a liquid black hell that tasted of liquid black heaven
For the second time in a day, I was smitten
A locksmith I recognised from Saint Ebbes
asked if he could join me
“I noticed your ribbon,” he said
and we struck up friendship straight away
William he was
a refugee from the Diggers’ failed Utopia at Wellingborough
but eyes still burning with revolutionary fire
Spurred by this dark and wondrous new-fangled brew
we talked and argued and laughed for hours
our tongues and minds galloping with such a swift and playful
coffee-bourne delight
Our corner of the shop soon became known as Dreamers’ Corner
Given that Jacob observed both the Hebrew and the Christian Sabbaths
Thursday nights became our main debating nights
and as long as there were at least still six of us still purchasing at a regular pace
we often made it through til Friday dawn
and given that I was then a groundsman at Magdalen
conveniently – and still buzzing like a bee – straight to work
The basic rules were soon established:
No drunks
No topic denied
All stations equal
Attack the argument but not the man
And don’t forget to look each man in the eye before you leave
Oh, such a precious pocket of freedom we enjoyed and sustained all summer long
despite all the news that crossed the Angel’s threshold
almost daily chronicling the brand new Commonwealth’s decline
And that July evening!
That July evening!
When one of our number made the mistake
– we must have been debating property and suffrage yet again –
of asking Hannah for her opinion from behind the counter
“It’s simple,” she declared
“One man, one vote...”
But through all the jeers and the cheers
she hushed us all
held the room in the palm of her hand
and continued
“...and one woman, one vote as well”
Well, I have never seen nor heard Agitators and Puritans and closet Royalists
so united
But once the uproar had died down
William asked her to expound
“Gentlemen,” she repied
“My argument is a simple one:
either everyone dances
or nobody dances.
And, pray
what is a dance
without a woman?”
Well! The second uproar was even louder
but now woven through with astonished laughter
“That lass speaks as if she is an equal!” spluttered one of the Puritans into his cup
and he didn’t mean it as a compliment
“She speaks like that Ranter, Coppe!” declared another
which carried more than a touch of menace
for Oxford’s very own Abeizer Coppe was then languishing in Newgate Prison
and his books had been burned on Broad Street
Hannah just stood there, like a firmly-rooted oak at the centre of a passing storm
I suspect that’s when William and Hannah finally fell in love
– or, rather, when Hannah finally deigned to return his love
He was a handsome rogue, William, I’ll give him that
But, as Solomon so wisely declared
there is a time to weep and a time to laugh
a time to mourn and a time to dance
and all seasons must surrender
to the next
It was early September
the week of the Saint Giles Fair
and we’d been up all night and
– no man for property or rules –
William broke us into Saint Mary’s
and he and myself and Hannah ascended the tower’s narrowly spiralling steps
carrying a freshly-brewed pot
and three chipped cups
laughing and giggling and shushing like naughty children
Well, it was the first and only time I’ve ever ascended that tower
and the view that we stepped out into
it made me feel like a king
the king of everything I see
the whole of Oxford spread before and all around us
its multitude of spires and towers and pampered cloisters
Christ Church meadow shrouded with the night-time’s gently-stirring mist
the forests of Wytham to the north-west and Shotover to the east
both straining with a deep and dark, dawn-lit green
And as Hannah poured the coffee
and I packed my pipe with tobacco
William raised his chin
opened his throat
and struck up with one of Winstanley’s songs:
You noble Diggers all, stand up now, stand up now,
You noble Diggers all, stand up now,
The waste land to maintain, seeing Cavaliers by name
Your digging do disdain and your persons all defame
Stand up now, Diggers all.
Your houses they pull down, stand up now, stand up now,
Your houses they pull down, stand up now.
Your houses they pull down to fright poor men in town,
But the gentry must come down and the poor shall wear the crown.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
With spades and hoes and ploughs, stand up now, stand up now,
With spades and hoes and ploughs, stand up now.
Your freedom to uphold, seeing Cavaliers are bold
To kill you if they could and rights from you withhold.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
Their self-will is their law, stand up now, stand up now,
Their self-will is their law, stand up now.
Since tyranny came in they count it now no sin
To make a gaol a gin and to serve poor men therein.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The gentry are all round, stand up now, stand up now,
The gentry are all round, stand up now.
The gentry are all round, on each side they are found,
Their wisdom’s so profound to cheat us of the ground.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The lawyers they conjoin, stand up now, stand up now,
The lawyers they conjoin, stand up now,
To arrest you they advise, such fury they devise,
But the devil in them lies, and hath blinded both their eyes.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The clergy they come in, stand up now, stand up now,
The clergy they come in, stand up now.
The clergy they come in and say it is a sin
That we should now begin our freedom for to win.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
’Gainst lawyers and ’gainst priests, stand up now, stand up now,
’Gainst lawyers and ’gainst Priests, stand up now.
For tyrants are they both even flat against their oath,
To grant us they are loath free meat and drink and cloth.
Stand up now, Diggers all.
The club is all their law, stand up now, stand up now,
The club is all their law, stand up now.
The club is all their law to keep poor folk in awe,
That they no vision saw to maintain such a law.
Glory now, Diggers all.
And then, as if on the instructions of an attending angel
the red diamond light of the rising sun
suddenly broke through Shotover’s horizon
and I swear
the unspeakable mysteries of earth and heaven and hell
flashed through all our eyes
and into our hearts
but were just as quickly
forgotten
We all stood in a silence
as deep as the deepest ocean
But as I swirled my cup to settle the dregs
Hannah turned to me and quietly said
“We’ll both miss you when we’re gone”
I opened my mouth to question her
but William put his finger to his lips
Levity had now turned to severity in his eyes
“Tell not a soul,” he said
And I felt a new and real fear
spread like ice within my blood
– for we all could feel Cromwell’s
hungry grip tightening –
and my dreamer’s heart
it plummeted like a cannon ball made of lead
For in that instant
I knew that our summer of coffee-fuelled freedom was truly over
and I knew also
that I’d never taste
such a summer as this again
