A Bit Flaky

daytailgates and frat parties. Even as far back as the thirteen hundreds, college students at Oxford University were known to get unruly when they blew off steam, and much like now, back then, the citizens of Oxford Town didn't love putting up with the scholar antics. By thirteen fifty five, Oxford University had been an education center for over two hundred and fifty years, and for nearly all of that time, the citizens and the scholars town and gown had been

at odds. A few times already the tension had broken out into violence. Students and the townspeople had been accused of killing each other, and tavern brawls were common events. Perhaps the worst instance was back in twelve oh nine, when a woman was murdered and two scholars were accused. A group of townspeople captured the two and they hanged them. A group of students then fled Oxford in response, ended up in Cambridge and founded a whole new university there

to avoid the violence. So it's fair to say that town and gown skirmishes had become a yearly occurrence by thirteen fifty five, but all of them would pale in comparison to what happened that year. On February tenth, otherwise known as Saint Scholastica's Holy Day. That evening, a group of university students arrived at the Swindlestock Tavern in the center of town looking for a drink. The bartender, John Croydon, quickly poured them wine and then moved on to his

next patrons. A few minutes later, one of the students waved down Croydon. He complained that the bartender had given them bad wine and that he should serve them something else free of charge. Tensions between the townspeople and the scholars were already high, so it wasn't long before Croydon and the scholars were arguing with each other, and finally Croydon hurled an insult and the scholar hurled his drink. The fight was on, and students and townspeople alike began brawling.

The mass of people quickly spilled out into the street, and the fight became a riot that spread throughout the town and the university. For the next three whole days, violence raged in Oxford. Although both university officials and town leaders tried to stop the fighting, they couldn't get their sides to listen to them. When the university chancellor tried to calm the fighters down, he was forced to flee

when someone fired arrows at him. On February eleventh, a day after the riot broke out, a crowd of townspeople swept through Oxford looking for scholars. The lucky ones fled to the university and barricaded themselves in libraries and lecture halls. The unlucky ones were killed by the mob. Even King Edward the Third, who was staying in the nearby village of Woodstock, couldn't quell the fighting, although he issued a royal proclamation. The mob raged on until finally on the

evening of February twelfth, it died out. When the dust cleared, Oxford town had lost about thirty people, the university closer to sixty. King Edward immediately put the town under his direct control. The Oxford mayor and town bailiffs were sent to prison, The university was given power to tax goods on the town, and judges were appointed to oversee a trial of the rioters. Finally, the local bishop assigned the

town of Oxford and annual pennants. Every year, on Saint Scholastica's Day, the mayor and at least sixty townspeople had to attend a mass for those slain in the riot, and every year the town had to pay the university

one penny for each scholar killed. The pennance continued to be paid for nearly five hundred years until the punishment was dropped in eighteen twenty five, and in nineteen fifty five, six hundred years after the riot, the mayor of Oxford and the vice chancellor of the university exchanged honors to finally put the conflict to bed. Normally, in college, a bad bottle of wine might just cause a six hour hangover. In this case, it seems to have caused a six

hundred year feud, and I'd call that curious. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, or Santa Anna for short, is a rather villainous figure in most American history books. He is best known for leading the Mexican assault on the Alamo in Texas and killing several American folk heroes, such as Davy Cross. It's a story that has spawned eight just Okay movies and at least two pretty great songs, But there's a real life sequel that not many people actually

know about. The story doesn't follow any of the Americans. It follows Santa Anna, who returned to Mexico after he was defeated just a month after the Alamo at the Battle of San Jacinto. His further exploits are just as violent, but a bit more curious. You see, in eighteen twenty one, Mexico gained independence from Spain, although that doesn't mean everything went smoothly for the country after that. What followed were a few decades of civil strife with no effective central government.

What government there was ruled Mexico City and the surrounding provinces fell under the jurisdiction of various territorial factions. Within the first twenty years of Mexican independence, ten different presidents were either killed or driven from power. Amidst all this strife, a renowned French pastry chef who history now only knows as Monsieur Remontel, was just doing his best to prepare the finest he could for whatever president was in power. You can imagine how hard it would be if your

primary client kept dying or fleeing the country. But Rementel did keep his shop open to other customers as well. There just weren't many, and one day in eighteen thirty eight, he served his last declare to a group of drunken Mexican military officers who trashed his business. Furious, Rementel sent word to the French government demanding that they hold the

Mexicans accountable for their destruction of a French business. Remontel was one of potentially hundreds of French citizens in Mexico with similar complaints, and so the French responded, sending ships to blockade and bombard the Mexico port of Vera Cruz, and with that an episode in Mexican history known as the Pastry War had begun. The Mexicans now had a common enemy to unite against, and so they rallied their army. But they needed a leader. As it so happened, Santa

Ana was extremely available for the job. He had lost the respect of the military after the Battle of San Jacinto and had since retired to his ranch, But his ranch was just outside of Vera Cruz, and so he was the nearest available military leader. He got on his horse and rode as fast as he could to lead the army. By the time he rallied his men, the French had already occupied a fort in the region. He led an assault on that fort, eventually overcoming the European invaders. Unfortunately,

things were never that easy for Santa Anna. During the course of the battle, his horse was hit by a cannon and Santa Anna's leg was mangled. He had to have it amputated. To make matters worse, the French immediately retook the fort and forced Mexico to pay six hundred thousand pesos, putting an end to the Pastry war in March of eighteen thirty nine, just a few months after it started. However, all of Mexico now saw Santa Anna as a hero. He had stood up for their nation

and even given a limb in the process. Heck, that leg was paraded through Mexico City and given an honorable burial, and Santa Anna was eventually made president in eighteen forty two. Talk about failing up, but he should have known better than to take the job. By eighteen forty four, the people had grown sick of him and they exhumed the leg. They paraded it through the streets again, but this time, instead of chanting Santa Anna's name, they screamed death to

the cripple. It was just impossible to keep his people happy. Nevertheless, Santa Anna's story was destined to become a trilogy. He was called into action to defend his country one more time. In eighteen forty seven, when the Mexican American War was in full swing. Santa Anna prepared to defend Vera Cruz for the second time, but victory was just not in the cards. The Americans trounced his army and he famously fled the battle, leaving his prosthetic leg behind for the

Americans to take as a trophy. That leg, by the way, is on display in Indiana right now. Santa Anna was forced to give up a huge amount of Mexican territory, eventually the entire American Southwest, and once again went into exile. That wasn't the end of his story, but will leave the rest for another day. If nothing else, Santana's career and the Pastry War shows us that even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant moments in history can be filled with

curious detail. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the Worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.