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[E-text transcriber-note: Words or phrases surrounded with <g> and </g> appear in
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                            [Illustration:

                     Henry Room      John Rogers.

                         William Beattie MD.]

  London, Published for the Proprietors by Geo. Virtue. 36. Ivy Lane.

                                  THE

                          CASTLES AND ABBEYS

                                  OF

                               ENGLAND,

        FROM THE NATIONAL RECORDS, EARLY CHRONICLES, AND OTHER
                           STANDARD AUTHORS.

                       BY WILLIAM BEATTIE, M.D.,

      GRAD. OF EDIN.; MEMB. OF THE ROYAL COLL. OF PHYS., LONDON;
               OF THE HIST. INSTIT. OF FRANCE; AUTHOR OF
              “SWITZERLAND,” “SCOTLAND,” “THE WALDENSES,”
                   “RESIDENCE IN GERMANY,” ETC. ETC.

           ILLUSTRATED BY UPWARDS OF TWO HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS.

[Illustration]

                            GEORGE VIRTUE:
                         LONDON AND NEW YORK.

                               GLASGOW:
              WILLIAM MACKENZIE, PRINTER, LONDON STREET.

[Illustration]




LIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS.


<g>Arundel Castle.</g>

                                                                           ARTISTS.   ENGRAVERS.     PAGE.

GENERAL VIEW OF THE CASTLE OF ARUNDEL, including part of the Town, with
the Church, the College of the Holy Trinity, the River Arun, &c. from
the South                                                                  ALLOM.      ARCHER.           1

THE INTERIOR QUADRANGLE OF THE CASTLE FROM THE KEEP, showing its
present condition, as restored by the late Duke of Norfolk                 ARCHER.      EVANS.           7

ARMS OF ROGER MONTGOMERY, Earl of Arundel and Shrewsbury                   ARCHER.      JACKSON.         8

SEAL OF WILLIAM DE ALBINI, Earl of Arundel. From the Impression                   J. W. ARCHER.          9

ARMS OF JOHN FITZALAN, Ninth Earl of Arundel, Oswaldestre, and Clun                                     11

SHIELD OF MONTGOMERY. Gules, a Lion rampant, or, within a bordure. From
Horsfield’s History                                                                                     12

THE CASTLE OF ARUNDEL from the Swan Lake on the South-east, showing the
natural advantages of its position                                         ARCHER.      JACKSON.        13

NORMAN DOOR, richly ornamented, in the Keep. From a Drawing by Mr.
BEATTIE, sculptor                                                                       NICHOLLES.      14

JOHN MOT, having escaped from the Dungeon, taking Sanctuary at the College
Gate of the Holy Trinity                                                   ARCHER.                      15

SOUTH-EAST FRONT OF ARUNDEL CASTLE in its present state, taken from the
Meadows                                                                    ARCHER.      EVANS.          17

THE OUTER GATEWAY OF NORMAN ARCHITECTURE, rebuilt by Richard Fitzalan      ARCHER.      JACKSON.        18

MOONLIGHT VIEW from the Window of St. Martin’s Chapel in the Keep, over
the Vale of the Arun to the Sea                                            ARCHER.      JACKSON.        19

HORNED OWLS IN THE KEEP OF ARUNDEL CASTLE. Portraits taken on the spot     ARCHER.      EVANS.          20

THE INNER GATEWAY AND KEEP OF THE CASTLE, showing on the left the Entrance
to the Tower                                                               ARCHER.      JACKSON.        21

GOTHIC DOORWAY OF THE ANCIENT HALL OF THE BARONS, on the site of the
New Hall, by Mr. BEATTIE                                                                    EVANS.      23

INNER GATEWAY during the Parliamentary Siege, with Cavaliers on guard, by
torchlight                                                                 ALLOM & ARCHER. JACKSON.     24

VIEW FROM THE BATTLEMENTS, showing the Outer Gate with the Sallyport in
its present state                                                          ARCHER.         GRAY.        26

BAS-RELIEF OF KING ALFRED INSTITUTING THE TRIAL BY JURY, on the Southeast
of the interior Quadrangle. From a Drawing by Mr. BEATTIE                                  EVANS.       28

ANCIENT FAMILY ARMS, ACHIEVEMENTS, &c. as sculptured in front of the
Barons’ Hall                                                               ARCHER.         NICHOLLES.   29

          Do.          do.        do.        do.                           ARCHER.         NICHOLLES.   31

          Do.          do.        do.        do.                           ARCHER.         NICHOLLES.   33

VIEW OF THE COLLEGE OF THE HOLY TRINITY, looking into the Inner Court      ARCHER.         EVANS.      34

GLASS IN THE GOTHIC WINDOW OF THE CHAPEL, representing the Swallow
(Hirondelle), as the Arms of Arundel                                       ARCHER.         EVANS.       35

HAWK ON HAND--characteristic of the Ancient “Sporting Counts”              ARCHER.                      36

HIORNE’S TOWER, in the Park of Arundel--a modern Gothic erection                                        36

BEVIS’S GRAVE, in Pugh-Dean, in the Deer Park, showing the Traditionary
Tumuli of Bevis and his horse “Hirondelle”                                 ARCHER.         JACKSON.     37

THE EMPRESS MATILDA’S ROOM in the Inner Gateway Tower of the Castle,
with the ancient Bedstead, _supposed_ to be that on which she slept        ARCHER.         EVANS.       38

KING STEPHEN DISMOUNTED AT WALLINGFORD, in front of the Army               SARGENT.        EVANS.       41

CRUSADING--Beacon-guard on the Walls of Damietta                           ARCHER.         JACKSON.     43

THE GRAND CEREMONY OF KNIGHTHOOD in Westminster Hall                       SARGENT.        EVANS.       45

THE ADMIRAL’S SHIP AND FLEET, under the command of Arundel                 PRIOR.          WHIMPER.     47

SCENE OF THE CONSPIRACY IN ARUNDEL CASTLE                                  ARCHER.         JACKSON.     49

NIGHT VISIT TO EARL RICHARD OF ARUNDEL’S TOMB, Cheapside                   SARGENT.        WHIMPER.     53

JOHN, EARL OF ARUNDEL, mortally wounded at Gerberoi                        ALLOM.          WHIMPER.     55

HENRY FITZALAN, EARL OF ARUNDEL, mounting the Breach at the Siege of
Boulogne                                                                   ALLOM.          JACKSON.     57

FUNERAL OF THE LAST EARL OF THE FITZALANS                                  ARCHER.         JACKSON.     60

RENCONTRE AT BOSWORTH FIELD, and Death of John, Duke of Norfolk. From
a Drawing by Mr. BEATTIE                                                                   EVANS.       63

BOSWORTH FIELD--the Young Earl of Surrey and Sir John Talbot               ALLOM.          WHIMPER.     65

FLODDEN FIELD--Bivouac after the Battle                                    ARCHER.         GRAY.        67

HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY--Portrait. From a Drawing by Mr.
BEATTIE                                                                                    M. JACKSON.  69

HENRY HOWARD, Victor at the Grand Tournament in Florence, with a View
of the Old Ducal Palace from the Piazza                                    ARCHER.         JACKSON.     71

PRISON SCENE IN THE TOWER OF LONDON                                        ARCHER.         GRAY.        74

OFFICIAL SEAL OF THE EARL-MARSHAL OF ENGLAND                               HERMAN.         WAKEFIELD.   75

THE COAT OF ARMS OF THE ANCIENT EARLS OF SURREY                            ARCHER.         GRAY.        76

ARMS OF THE DUKE OF NORFOLK--Earl-Marshal of England                       ARCHER.         GRAY.        77

TOMB OF THE GREAT DUKE OF NORFOLK in Framlingham Church                    HERMAN.         WAKEFIELD.   78

<g>St. Alban’s Abbey.</g>

S. ALBANUS

PROTO-MARTYR ANGLICANUS.

[Illustration]

                                                                               ARTISTS.   ENGRAVERS.   PAGE
STEEL PLATE.--GENERAL VIEW OF ST. ALBAN’S
ABBEY, from the South                                                          T. ALLOM.   ADLARD.

PISCINA--with a Monk of the Order                                              PRIOR.      SMITH.        79

ENTRANCE TO OUR LADY’S CHAPEL, From the North.                                 PRIOR.      SMITH.        80

THE NAVE OF THE ABBEY CHURCH, Showing the Saxon (or Norman) and Gothic
Arches, the Great West Window, &c.                                             HERMAN.     EVANS.        83

THE CHOIR--with the Pulpit, Organ, Window of the North Transept, the
Norman Arches, &c.                                                             SARGENT.    EVANS.        86

THE SHRINE-TOMB OF HUMPHREY THE GOOD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. Drawn
By Mr. BEATTIE                                                                             GRAY.         89

THE DUKE’S VAULT, with His Coffin and Skeleton, in their present state, under
The Shrine                                                                     PRIOR.      WHIMPER.      91

THE ENTRANCE TO THE LADY CHAPEL, from the South                                PRIOR.      JACKSON.      93

THE ANCIENT ALTAR OF THE ABBEY, now in the South Aisle, with Pilgrims          ARCHER.     GRAY.         95

THE GATE-HOUSE, or Grand Entrance to the Abbey Court, from the Interior        SARGENT.    NICHOLLES.    96

ST. PETER’S STREET, including the Abbey Tower, the Market-place, and the
Town-hall                                                                      PRIOR.      SMITH.        99

THE ENTRANCE TO THE LADY CHAPEL, from the North Lane                           PRIOR.      JACKSON.     102

ST. MICHAEL’S CHURCH, from the Churchyard                                      PRIOR.      SMITH.       104

MONUMENT AND STATUE OF LORD CHANCELLOR BACON, in St. Michael’s Church          PRIOR.      WHIMPER.     105

SOPWELL NUNNERY in Ruins, with the Abbey Church in the background              SARGENT.    WHIMPER.     107

GRAND ENTRANCE TO THE ABBEY CHURCH from the West, with the Distribution
of Alms in the Cemetery                                                        PRIOR.      WHIMPER.     108

INTERIOR OF THE LADY CHAPEL--showing the public thoroughfare through the
Outer Chapel                                                                   PRIOR.      SMITH.       109

ARMS OF THE MONASTERY OF ST. ALBANS                                            HERMAN.     COOK.        110

[Illustration]

THE

<g>Palace of Eltham</g>.

    “That, passing by some monument that stoops
    With age, whose ruins plead for a repair,
    Pity the fall of such a goodly pile!”--SHIRLEY.

                                                                            ARTISTS.   ENGRAVERS.    PAGE

STEEL PLATE.--INTERIOR OF THE ROYAL HALL OF ELTHAM, with the Banquet
given to King John of France, by Edward the Third                           SARGENT.  GODFREY.

INTERIOR OF ELTHAM HALL in its present state                                PRIOR.    M. JACKSON.     111

NORTH ENTRANCE TO THE HALL, ditto                                           SARGENT.  NICHOLLES.      114

JOHN OF ELTHAM--his Tomb in Westminster Abbey                               HERMAN.   WAKEFIELD.      116

THE EXTERIOR OF ELTHAM, from the South-west, in its present state           HERMAN.   WALL.           118

ANCIENT GATEWAY in Ruins. Emblematic                                        HERMAN.   WALL.           122

ANCIENT BRIDGE ACROSS THE MOAT, the Approach to Eltham Hall                 HERMAN.   WALL.           123

ELTHAM HALL, from the North-east--showing the Entrance,  Double Windows,
&c.                                                                         SARGENT.    WALL.         125

SCREEN IN ELTHAM HALL--with the Entrance-door in the Centre, and Orchestra
above                                                                       SARGENT.    O. SMITH.     126

GREAT BAY-WINDOW IN THE HALL, at the North-east end of the Dais             SARGENT.    WAKEFIELD.    127

MEETING OF ANNE OF CLEVES AND HENRY VIII. ON BLACKHEATH. Eltham
Hall on the right, and Shooter’s Hill in the background                     HERMAN.     WALMESLEY.    130

<g>Rochester Castle.</g>

[Illustration]

“Hic matres, miseraque nurus, hic cara sororum
Pectora mærentum. puerique parentibus orbi
Dirum execrantur bellum.”

                                                                           ARTISTS.  ENGRAVERS.  PAGE.

STEEL PLATE.--ROCHESTER CASTLE, from the River Medway                      SARGENT.  ADLARD.

ARMS OF ROCHESTER CASTLE--Seal of the Town                                 HERMAN.   WALL.        133

ROCHESTER CASTLE, with the Outer Walls, taken from the South-east end of
the Bridge                                                                 SARGENT.  JACKSON.     134

GATEWAY. Portcullis and Sentinel on Guard                                            WHIMPER.     138

THE DONJON; or GUNDULPH’S TOWER--showing the Entrance from the South       SARGENT.  EVANS.       140

ODO, BISHOP OF BAYEUX and EARL OF KENT                                     HERMAN.   COOKE.       141

ROCHESTER CASTLE. The Siege by King John, A.D. 1215                        SARGENT.  WHIMPER.     143

THE BATTLEMENTS OF THE MAIN TOWER--showing Arcades on the right, where
the Castle Chapel is supposed to have been                                 SARGENT.  EVANS.       146

ARCHWAY, with View into the Tilting Yard                                             WHIMPER.     149

SMALL TOWER OF THE CASTLE--showing the thickness of the Outer Walls        PRIOR.    WALL.        153

PRINCIPAL ENTRANCE TO THE MAIN TOWER--showing the position of the ancient
Portcullis. View taken from the Entrance, looking Westward                 PRIOR.    RIMBAULT.    154

THE STATE PRISON in Rochester Castle; as it is, and as it was              PRIOR.    WHIMPER.     155

STATE APARTMENTS IN THE CASTLE--showing the Norman Architecture.           SARGENT.  O. SMITH.    157

ROCHESTER CASTLE BY MOONLIGHT--with the supposed Secret Entrance from
the River                                                                  HERMAN.   WAKEFIELD.   159

INNER ARCHED GALLERY, surrounding the Apartments                           PRIOR.    WALL.        160

WEST GALLERY OF ROCHESTER CASTLE--showing the Interior, with the Norman
workmanship                                                                PRIOR.    RIMBAULT.    161

THE CASTLE PRISON. Entrance to the Dungeon, with Staircase and Archway     PRIOR.    WHIMPER.     162

ROCHESTER BRIDGE AND CASTLE, from the Medway, looking South                HERMAN.   NICHOLLES.   164

GADSHILL TAVERN--the scene of Falstaff’s adventure, as it now appears      PRIOR.    WALL.        167

[Illustration]

<g>Tewkesbury Abbey.</g>


    “Extingue flammas litium;
     Aufer calorem noxium;
     Confer salutem corporum
     Veramque pacem cordium.”

                                                                             ARTISTS.  ENGRAVERS.

STEEL PLATE.--THE ABBEY OF TEWKESBURY, from the Toll-gate,
looking across the Battle-field, or “Bloody-Meadow”                          SARGENT.  HINCHCLIFFE.

                                                                                                     PAGE

THE SOUTH CHANCEL, with the Tombs, Shrines--scene after the Battle           SARGENT.  EVANS.         169

FUNERAL PROCESSION TO ST. FAITH’S CHAPEL. Burial of Hugh, a Mercian
Noble                                                                        PRIOR.    JACKSON.       171

WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, from an Ancient Statue. Fr. Monum.                    HERMAN.   DALZIEL.       172

A BLACK FRIAR, or BENEDICTINE MONK of Tewkesbury                             HERMAN.   WALMESLEY.     173

THE CHAPTER-HOUSE OF TEWKESBURY--now the Grammar School                      PRIOR.    WALL.          174

EAST END OF THE CHANCEL. Behind the Altar Screen. In Ecclesia nostra de
Theokesberye, &c. A.D. M.CC.XXX                                              SARGENT.  RIMBAULT.      177

GOTHIC SHRINE-TOMB of the Le Despenser Family                                HERMAN.   GRAY.          179

THE AXE AND BLOCK                                                            ARCHER.                  181

PORTRAIT OF GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE. From the Brit. Mus.                    HERMAN.   DALZIEL.       183

THE SEAL OF TEWKESBURY                                                       HERMAN.   DALZIEL.       184

THE ANCIENT GATE OF THE ABBEY, with Reliques of the Conventual Outbuildings  PRIOR.    WHIMPER.       186

NORTH AISLE, PISCINA IN THE COLUMN. Pilgrims, Antique Alms-boxes, &c.        SARGENT.  GRAY.          188

GREAT WEST ENTRANCE TO THE CHURCH. Norman Window, Towers,  &c.
from the Churchyard                                                          SARGENT.  JACKSON.       189

ANCIENT FONT AND COVER in the Abbey Church                                   SARGENT.  JACKSON.       190

CLOISTER BELL-CASE, in which was suspended the Vesper-bell, C                PRIOR.    O. SMITH.      191

ABBOT’S ENTRANCE TO THE CHURCH from the South, with the
Tomb of SOMERSET                                                             PRIOR.    O. SMITH.      194

NORTH TRANSEPT OF THE CHURCH, with carved Stalls, &c.
originally in the Choir                                                      PRIOR.    WALL.          197

PORTRAIT OF MARGARET OF ANJOU, Queen of Henry VI                             HERMAN.   DALZIEL.       201

BATTLE OF TEWKESBURY, and Death of Lord Wenlock                              HERMAN.   DALZIEL.       205

PORTRAIT OF PRINCE EDWARD, murdered after the Battle                         HERMAN.   DALZIEL.       206

CLOISTERS OF TEWKESBURY ABBEY, with the Rich Windows,
Arcades, and Shrine-work                                                     PRIOR.    WALMESLEY.     208

[Illustration]

<g>Kenilworth Castle.</g>

    “Follow where all is fled! Rome’s azure sky,
    Flowers, ruins, statues, music, speech, are weak,
The brightness they transfused with fitting words to speak.”

                                                                        ARTISTS.    ENGRAVERS.

STEEL PLATE.--THE CASTLE OF KENILWORTH. General View
from the Lake                                                           ALLOM.      ADLARD.

      PAGE

ARMORIAL SHIELD OF THE EARL OF LEICESTER                                ARCHER.     WAKEFIELD.      211

VIEW OF THE CASTLE from the East, with Lunn’s Tower, Gatehouse, &c.     ARCHER.     JACKSON.        212

GATE OF TUE ANCIENT PRIORY, with Sepulchral Remains                     ARCHER.     NICHOLLES.      215

SIMON DE MONTFORT, from a Sepulchral Effigy                             HERMAN.     NICHOLLES.      217

REMAINS OF THE GREAT HALL IN THE CASTLE, with the Undercroft            SARGENT.    WALL.           220

RICH WINDOW IN THE PRESENCE CHAMBER, or Hall                            PRIOR.      EVANS.          222

JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster--Lord of Kenilworth                    HERMAN.     NICHOLLES.      224

THE STRONG TOWER, with adjoining Ruins                                  SARGENT.    EVANS.          226

THE THREE BARONIAL KITCHENS, west side of the Castle                    SARGENT.    SMITH.          228

LEICESTER’S STABLES, with the Timber-work, &c.                          SARGENT.    EVANS.          231

PART OF LEICESTER’S BUILDINGS, erected by Robert Dudley                 PRIOR.      WALL.           232

THE GATEWAY, part of the Dudley Buildings                               ARCHER.     JACKSON.        233

THE FLOODGATE, or WATER TOWER (see the Plan)                            PRIOR.      NICHOLLES.      235

LEICESTER’S CHIMNEY PIECE, formerly in the Presence Chamber             ARCHER.     GRAY.           237

EFFIGY OF ROBERT DUDLEY, Earl of Leicester, from his Tomb               ARCHER.     GRAY.           239

ENTRANCE TO THE GREAT HALL, with Entrance to the Nether Hall, or Undercroft.
On the left a Window of “Queen Elizabeth’s Dressing-room”               HERMAN.     O. SMITH.       241

PLAN OF THE CASTLE, as it appeared in 1575, from the “Illust. Kenilworth;”
with references and explanations at p. 280                             HERMAN.     WAKEFIELD.       243

SIGNATURE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH, from the Original in the British Museum  HERMAN.     WAKEFIELD.       245

KENILWORTH CASTLE, from the East, showing on the left Mervyn’s Tower--Leicester-Buildings--The
Keep--The Gate-House--The Stables, &c.                                 PRIOR.      WALL.            247

PORTRAIT OF ROBERT DUDLEY, Earl of Leicester                           LAW.        EVANS.           249

VIEW FROM THE TILT-YARD, now a sheep-walk, showing part of the outworks.
Cæsar’s Tower on the left--part of Leicester-Buildings--and the Gate-House
                                                                       ARCHER.     DALZIEL.         251

LUNN’S TOWER AT SUNSET, showing the remains of the Moat, grass-grown   ARCHER.     EVANS.           253

PORTRAIT OF AMY ROBSART--Dudley’s first wife, murdered in Cumnor Hall  ARCHER.     WHIMPER.         255

THE SNAKE AND DOVE, allegorical of Dudley and Amy Robsart              ARCHER.     DALZIEL.         256

SEAL OF KENILWORTH PRIORY, impression with the parchment attached, from
the British Museum                                                     HERMAN.     JACKSON.         259

THE BRIDGE AT KENILWORTH, with the Church and Gate-House on the left    SARGENT.    EVANS.          260

[Illustration]

<g>Waltham Abbey.</g>

    “Within fifteen, holding my passage
     Mydde of a cloyster; depict upon a wall,
     I saw a CRUCIFIXE, whose woundes were not small,
     With this Worde wide written there besyde--
     ‘BEHOLDE MY MEEKNESS, CHILDE, AND LEAVE THY PRIDE!’”--LYDGATE.

                                                                          ARTISTS.     ENGRAVERS.  PAGE.

STEEL PLATE.--WALTHAM ABBEY CHURCH, from thy Meadows                      SARGENT.     GODFREY.

VIEW OF THE MAIN STREET, with the Tower of the Abbey Church               DELAMOTTE.   WALL.        261

ABBEY CHURCH, East End (with a funeral), showing the Ancient Arch Window  TIFFIN.  JACKSON.         264

HERALDIC SHIELD OF THE ABBEY                                              HERMAN.  WAKEFIELD.       265

SAXON BRIDGE, still used in “Harold’s Park,” Waltham                      HERMAN.      WALL.        268

INNER PORCH OF THE ABBEY CHURCH                                           DELAMOTTE.   WALL.        270

BAKER’S ENTRY, remains of the Houses occupied by the Abbots’ retainers    HERMAN.      WALMESLEY.   271

GATEWAY, BRIDGE, and ABBEY TOWER                                          HERMAN.      WALL.        274

PRINCIPAL ENTRANCE TO THE CHURCH, with a Monk                             HERMAN.      WAKEFIELD.   276

ANCIENT FONT IN THE CHURCH OF WALTHAM                                     HERMAN.      WAKEFIELD.   277

VIEW OF THE ABBEY CHURCH, across the Burial-ground                        HERMAN.      WALMESLEY.   278

ORNAMENTAL BUTTRESSES OF THE ABBEY CHURCH                                 HERMAN.      EVANS.       278

THE SEAL OF THE ABBOTS OF WALTHAM                                         HERMAN.      JACKSON.     279

[Illustration]

<g>Carisbrooke Castle.</g>

“O, uncertain path of life:  in our hopes how little security: in our joy what short duration! where can
weak man find shelter? Where in this short life peace?”--CAMOEMS.


                                                                              ARTISTS.   ENGRAVERS.   PAGE.

STEEL PLATE.--VIEW OF THE CASTLE FROM THE NORTH, showing the Keep,
and Gate, and Outworks                                                        SARGENT.   RADCLIFFE.

ENTRANCE TO THE KEEP by an ascent of seventy-two stone steps                  SARGENT.     EVANS.    281

CARISBROOKE CASTLE--The ancient Donjon--partly Saxon--from the “Roman
Mounds”                                                                       SARGENT.   EVANS.      283

THE BARRACKS AND GOVERNOR’S HOUSE, with the Keep, from Mountjoy Tower         SARGENT.   EVANS.      285

ANCIENT GATE IN THE CASTLE, viewed from the Interior, leading to the steps    SARGENT.   EVANS.      287

PART OF THE KEEP, known as the Flag-staff Tower, with the Battlement          SARGENT.   EVANS.      289

PORTRAIT OF HENRY BEAUCHAMP, crowned King of the Isle of Wight, in his
Coronation Robes, from the original by Rous, British Museum                   HERMAN.                291

NORMAN GATE, from the Interior, with the Original Oaken Door, said to be
500 years old                                                                 SARGENT.   EVANS.      293

THE GOVERNOR’S HOUSE, with part of the Barracks, erected by Queen Elizabeth   SARGENT.   EVANS.      294

THE GREAT GATE, with Round Prison Towers, Machicolations, and Queen
Elizabeth’s Gate in the foreground. View taken from the road                  SARGENT.   EVANS.      296

THE GARRISON WELL, showing the Great Windlass-Wheel, &c.; with the
Interior of the Building as it now appears                                    SARGENT.   EVANS.      297

SIGN-MANUAL OF KING CHARLES I., from the Original MS. British Museum          HERMAN.    WALMESLEY.  298

“QUEEN ELIZABETH’S TOWER,” with the Outer Gate and Landscape, from the
Keep                                                                          SARGENT.   EVANS.      299

VIEW OF THE APARTMENTS OCCUPIED BY KING CHARLES DURING HIS IMPRISONMENT
IN THE CASTLE, with the Window from which he attempted to
escape--Objects emblematical of his Reign                                     SARGENT.   EVANS.      301

EXACT FORM AND APPEARANCE OF THE SAME WINDOW, from which, with his
own hand, the King had sawed through one of the Iron Bars                     SARGENT.   EVANS.      302

GROUND-PLAN OF CARISBROOKE CASTLE, showing all the Buildings and Outworks     HERMAN.    WALMESLEY.  304

[Illustration]


<g>Netley Abbey.</g>

“Mundus abit, fortis sim, non ero: sim speciosus,
Non ero; sim dives non ero, mundus abit.
Mundus abit, non CHRISTUS abit: cote non abeuntem.”--MOR CATH MARTENE.

                                                                  ARTISTS.     ENGRAVERS.     PAGE.
VIEW OF THE SOUTH TRANSEPT OF NETLEY ABBEY,
showing the beauty and richness of its Architecture                SARGENT.    HINCHLIFFE.    305

IMPRESSION OF THE ABBEY SEAL, with the Wax and
Ribbon attached, from the Original                                 HERMAN.     WALMESLEY.     306

THE ABBOT’S SEAL, with its Impression and Inscription              HERMAN.     WALMESLEY.     307

THE GREAT WEST WINDOW OF THE ABBEY                                 SARGENT.    EVANS.         309

THE FOUNTAIN-COURT OF NETLEY ABBEY                                 SARGENT.    EVANS.         311

THE CONFESSIONAL, for the Cistercian Brotherhood of the Abbey      SARGENT.    EVANS.         313

THE SACRISTY OF THE ABBEY, Vaulted, and Lighted by two Windows     SARGENT.    EVANS.         314

THE CHAPTER-HOUSE OF THE ABBEY                                     SARGENT.    EVANS.         316

THE ABBOT’S KITCHEN, with the ancient Fireplace                    SARGENT.    EVANS.         318

THE SOUTH FRONT OF NETLEY ABBEY                                    SARGENT.    EVANS.         320

THE BUTTERY-DOOR OF NETLEY ABBEY. Peasants with their Offerings receiving
the Priest’s Benediction                                           SARGENT.    EVANS.         321

THE CONFESSIONAL OF NETLEY ABBEY, with Confessor and Penitent      SARGENT.    EVANS.         323

PALMER, Pilgrim                                                                               324

NETLEY BEACH--a Scene on the road to the Sun Inn                   SARGENT.    EVANS.         327

NETLEY CASTLE, lately used as a public House of Entertainment      SARGENT.    EVANS.         329

PLAN OF NETLEY ABBEY--arrangement of the Buildings                 HERMAN.                    330

[Illustration]

<g>Appendix.</g>

                                                              ARTISTS.  ENGRAVERS.     PAGE.

ALLEGORICAL SUBJECT--with Figures and Tomes                  SARGENT.    EVANS.         331

VIEW OF THE CASTLE OF ARUNDEL, from a new Point              ARCHER.     GILKS.         335

KNIGHT IN ARMOUR                                                                        336

SCROLL-HEAD, illustrative of Arundel Castle--West Gateway--“Owl and
Swallow”                                                      HERMAN.     DELAMOTTE.    337

THE BARON’S HALL--Minstrelsy in the Olden Time--SYR BEVIS    ARCHER.     DALZIEL.       338

VIGNETTE--TILTING HELMET, SWORD, AND SHIELD                                             341

PISCINA IN ABBEY CHURCH, St. Albans, referred to in the Text PRIOR.      JACKSON.       343

ANCIENT ARMOUR OF ELTHAM HALL--“THE DUKE’S STUDY”           ARCHER.    DALZIEL.         345

DISCOVERY OF HAROLD’S BODY, after the Battle of Hastings, by his Mistress,
“Edith with the Swan’s neck”                                ARCHER.    DALZIEL.         348

HEAD OF KING CHARLES I. as Prisoner in Carisbrooke Castle   LAW.       JACKSON.         350

THE ABBOT OF NETLEY’S MITRE AND CROSIER                     SARGENT.   EVANS.           352


<g>List of Illustrations.</g>

ALLEGORICAL VIGNETTE                                        SARGENT.    EVANS.            v

ARMS AND ABBATIAL TROPHIES OF ST. ALBANS                    HERMAN.     DELAMOTTE.      vii

ARCHITECTURAL SCROLL-HEAD AND TROPHIES OF ELTHAM HALL       HERMAN.     DELAMOTTE.     viii

MILITARY SCROLL AND ARMS OF ROCHESTER CASTLE                HERMAN.     DELAMOTTE.       ix

SCROLL-HEAD, WITH ARMS AND TROPHIES OF TEWKESBURY ABBEY     HERMAN.    DELAMOTTE.         x

MILITARY TROPHIES OF KENILWORTH, with the Arms of Robert Earl of Leicester
                                                            HERMAN.    DELAMOTTE.        xi

SCROLL, WITH THE SHRINE OF THE HOLY CROSS, WALTHAM ABBEY    HERMAN.    DELAMOTTE.       xii

SCROLL-HEAD AND GATEWAY, with the Royal Crown and Arms      HERMAN.    DELAMOTTE.      xiii

ALLEGORICAL HEADING OF NETLEY ABBEY                         HERMAN.    DELAMOTTE.       xiv

<g>Fínís.</g>  VIGNETTE--CHRONICLES OF ENGLAND              SARGENT.    EVANS.           xv


<g>Architectural Letters.</g>


    A, characteristic of ARUNDEL.
    S,        “          ST. ALBANS.
    E,        “          ELTHAM.
    R,        “          ROCHESTER.
    T,        “          TEWKESBURY.
    K,        “          KENILWORTH.
    W,        “          WALTHAM.
    C,        “          CARISBROOKE.
    N,        “          NETLEY.

       *       *       *       *       *

    De tout usage antique amateur idolâtre;
    De toute nouveauté frondeur opiniâtre;
    Homme d’un autre siècle, et ne suivant en tout
    Pour tou qu’un vieux honneur, pour loi que le vieux goût:
    Cerveau des plus bornés qui, tenant pour maxime
    Qu’un seigneur de paroisse est un être sublime!--
    On n’imagine pas combien il se respecte,
    Ivre de son château dont il est l’architecte.--GRESSET, _Le Châtelain_.

   ---- Enraptured have I loved to roam,
    A lingering votary, the vaulted dome,
    Where the tall shafts, that mount in massy pride,
    Their mingling branches shoot from side to side;
    Where elfin Sculptors, with fantastic clew,
    O’er the long roof their wild embroidery drew;
    Where Superstition, with capricious hand,
    In many a maze the wreathed window plann’d,
    With hues romantic tinged the gorgeous pane,
    To fill with holy light the wondrous fane!

[Illustration:

Designed by Lonsdale.      Painted by Backler.      Engraved by Allen.

_Signing of the Magna Charta by King John._

FROM THE GREAT WINDOW OF THE BARONS HALL ARUNDEL CASTLE.

_page 27._

LONDON, GEORGE VIRTUE.]




[Illustration: CASTLES & ABBEYS OF ENGLAND]


<g>The Castles and Abbeys of England</g> may be justly regarded as the great
fixed landmarks in her history. They stand like monumental pillars in
the stream of time, inscribed with the names of her native chivalry and
early hierarchy, whose patriotic deeds and works of piety they were
raised to witness and perpetuate.

Viewed in this connexion, they are subjects of enduring interest and
curiosity; especially to those whose minds have been strongly imbued
with a love of the arts, a veneration for the great minds and the wise
measures of which they are the splendid memorials. We linger in the
feudal court, and muse in the deserted sanctuary, with emotions which we
can hardly define: in the one our patriotism gathers strength and
decision; in the other, that piety of which it is the outward evidence,
sheds a warmer influence on the heart. We traverse the apartments that
once contained the noble founders of our national Freedom; the venerable
and intrepid champions of our Faith; the revered fathers of our
Literature; with a feeling which amounts to almost devotion. We turn
aside to the mouldering gates of our ancestors as a pilgrim turns to
some favourite shrine; to those ruins which were the cradles of liberty,
the residence of men illustrious for their deeds, the stronghold and
sanctuary of their domestic virtues and affections. The mutilated
altars of our religion, the crumbling sepulchres of our forefathers, are
pregnant with an interest which no other source can afford. In these
venerable remains, the visible stamp of sanctity still clings to the
threshold; we tread the ground with a soft silent step, overawed by the
solemnity of the scene; we feel that--although the sacred fire is
extinguished on the altar, the hallelujahs hushed in the quire, and
priest and penitent gone for ever--we feel that the presence of a
divinity still hallows the spot; that the wings of the presiding
cherubim are still extended over its altar.

But turning from the cloistered abbey, to the castellated fortress of
antiquity, a new train of associations springs up. The vaulted gateway,
the rudely sculptured shield, the heavy portcullis, and massive
towers--all contrast forcibly with the scene we have just left, but
present to the mind’s eye a no less faithful picture of feudal times. It
was from these towers that the flower of English chivalry went forth
under the banner of the Cross--carried the terror of their arms to the
gates of Jerusalem, and earned those glorious ‘badges’ which are now the
proud distinction of their respective houses.

In a survey of these primitive strongholds, these rude citadels of our
national faith and honour, every feature is invested with traditionary
interest. They are intimately associated with our native Literature,
civil and sacred; with History, Poetry, Painting, and the Drama; with
local tradition, legendary and antiquarian lore.

To the early founders of our castles and abbeys, we are mainly indebted
for the blessings we still enjoy as a free and independent nation. It
was the unflinching fortitude and uncompromising faith of our baronial
ancestors which extorted from the hands of Despotism the grand charters
of English freedom; and, if the men who achieved such things ought to
live in the grateful remembrance of their country, surely the local
habitations with which their names are identified, must ever be viewed
as classic scenes with which the grandeur and glory of England are
inseparably connected.

It is there that the very Genius of chivalry still presents himself with
that stern and majestic countenance which views with disdain the
‘luxurious and degenerate posterity’ which has robbed him of his
honours. It is there that the scenes of other days recur to the
imagination in all their native pomp and solemnity. These were the
ancient schools where the manly exercises of knighthood, the generous
virtues of patriotism, fortitude, honour, courtesy and wisdom, were
habitually taught and practised.

The love and reverence of antiquity are imbibed with our earliest
classic discipline; but when we turn to the history of our own country,
and contemplate in her castles, abbeys, and cathedrals, the monuments of
her former greatness, we become animated with a different emotion; we
feel the strong bond of relationship which unites us with their
founders. We dwell with romantic interest on their valour, munificence,
hospitality; a hospitality which was open to all; to knight, pilgrim,
and minstrel; to him whose honoured office “wedded to immortal verse”
the fortunes, achievements, and festivities of the noble owner; and by
exciting the first efforts of wit and fancy, secured an introduction to
every species of polite learning--to all the softer influences by which
the stern manners of the age were gradually softened and refined.

With respect to our ecclesiastical foundations, our abbeys, priories,
and cathedrals; how great is the proportion that was built and endowed
by our ancient nobility! Next to the glory of bearing arms in the Holy
Land, was the desire of founding churches at home; for to honour God
with their substance, to brave every danger in defence of their
religion, were maxims that regulated the chief actions of their lives,
and extended their view beyond the boundaries of time. To them and their
long line of descendants, we are indebted for feats of arms, for
examples of Christian fortitude, which have preserved our throne and
constitution inviolate, and raised the British character to its zenith
of national glory. By the practical lessons which they afford, they
inspire us with admiration of their lofty virtues. Their patriotism at
home, their perilous adventures abroad, their indomitable courage and
inflexible faith, their triumphs at the scaffold and the stake,--all
evinced a constancy in virtue, a confidence in God, which nothing could
shake or overthrow.

In the history of feudal times, when turbulence and faction were
constantly troubling the serene atmosphere of public and private life,
we observe the spiritual and temporal power mutually aiding and
restraining each other: both uniting to regulate the balance of the
state, to enforce obedience to the laws, to resist those
unconstitutional and oppressive measures which produced such frequent
and painful divisions between the sovereign and his vassals.

But, while thus adverting to the character and polity of feudal times,
we are far from maintaining that there was no flaw in the system, no
flagrant act of injustice in its administration. On the contrary, we
freely admit its imperfection; but we as freely applaud its excellences.
We grant that every castle had its dungeon; every dungeon, perhaps, its
prisoners and captives; but still, viewed as a scheme of civil freedom,
the feudal polity ‘bears a noble countenance. Deprived of its sustaining
power, the very names of right and privilege must have fallen prostrate
at the feet of unlimited despotism.’ If, says Hallam, ‘when the people
were poor and disunited, the nobility had not been brave and free, the
tyranny which on every favourable occasion was breaking through all
barriers would have rioted without control.’

In these prefatory remarks, however, we refrain from supporting our
views by the evidence of facts; but to the indulgent reader, who feels
an interest in the subject, and will accompany us in our tour[1] through
the feudal monuments in question, we hope to prove by many interesting
records, anecdotes, and illustrations, the beneficial influence of a
system, prolific beyond all others in the grandeur of its institutions,
and forming what may be justly styled the monumental ages of England.

But along with their graver history, these primitive strongholds of the
national faith and freedom unite a thousand pleasing and faithful
pictures of social life. It was in these palaces, castles, abbeys,
halls, and manor-houses, that, in the ‘merry days of England,’ the
festivals of our Church and the fêtes of Chivalry, were celebrated in
all their splendour. It was there the noble host collected around him
his friends and retainers, that the walls were hung with banners, that
steel-clad warders paced the battlements, that the sound of the horn
summoned the guests from the ‘joust’ or the chase,--that the ‘boar’s
head’ smoked on the ample board,--that mantling cups were drained to the
health of ‘beauty,’ and fresh honours decreed to the ‘brave.’

It was in these halls that the ‘Christmas log,’ flashing through the
painted casement, announced the reign of hospitality,--when the ‘roast
beef of Old England,’ her nut-brown October, and the national songs and
dance, conspired to produce one long scene of mirth and festivity; when
the ‘harper’ sang those romantic and heroic ballads at which the young
caught fire, and the old threw aside the weight of years. Who can
reflect on these scenes, now the subject of history, without a lively
interest in the Castles and Abbeys of England?

Hitherto, the grand objection to works of this description, has been
their expense, which has confined the circulation of picturesque
antiquarian works to the opulent classes of society. The great
recommendation of the present work is its unprecedented cheapness, being
illustrated by original views taken on the spot, and not amounting in
general to more than a twentieth of the price at which its predecessors
in the same field have been published.

6, PARK SQUARE, LONDON.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

                Derived down to us, and received
    In a succession, far the noblest way,
    Of breeding up our youths in letters, arms,
    Fair mien, discourses, civil exercise,
    And all the blazon of a gentleman.--
    Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence,
    To move his body gracefully; to speak
    His language purer; or to tune his mind
    Or manners more to the harmony of Nature
    Than in these Nurseries of Nobility?

BEN JONSON’S _New Inn_. Act I. Scene 3.

     N.B. A LIST OF THE NATIONAL RECORDS, ANCIENT CHRONICLES, AND OTHER
     STANDARD AUTHORITIES QUOTED, OR REFERRED TO, IN THE FOLLOWING WORK,
     WILL BE FOUND ANNEXED TO EACH SUBJECT RESPECTIVELY.

[Illustration:

_Drawn by T. Allom._        _Engraved by I. W. Archer._

ARUNDEL CASTLE.]




THE CASTLE OF ARUNDLE,

<g>Sussex</g>,

PRINCIPAL SEAT OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF NORFOLK, K.G.

[Illustration]

    Since William rose and Harold fell,
    There have been Counts of Arundel;
    And Earls old Arundel shall have,
    While rivers flow and forests wave.


<g>The Castle of Arundel</g> enjoys a twofold celebrity, in its great antiquity
and in its peculiar privilege of conferring the title of Earl on its
possessor. The former reverts to a period much anterior to the conquest;
the latter was hereditary in the eleventh century, and confirmed by Act
of Parliament in the sixth year of the reign of Henry the Sixth. But its
chief and enduring interest is derived from the long list of warriors
and statesmen whose names are identified with the place; and whose
deeds, during the lapse of eight centuries, have shed lustre on the
national history.

The earliest recorded notice of Arundel occurs in the will of the Great
<g>Alfred</g>[2], in which he bequeaths it, along with other lordships, to his
brother’s son Athelm. It is described in that document[3] as a manor,
but without any specific distinction in its privileges from those of
Aldingbourn, Compton, and Beeding, with which it is associated; and to
Godwin and his son <g>Harold</g>, who were successively earls of Sussex[4], it
passed, in all probability, in the same form. It was not till the
overthrow of the Saxon dynasty[5], however, that Arundel assumes a
prominent station in history as a native fortress of strength and
importance[6]. Among the train of warlike barons who attended the Norman
in his successful expedition to our coast, was Roger de Monte

[Sidenote:

1066  {
1070. {
]

Gomerico, or <g>Montgomery</g>, nearly related to the Conqueror by blood, and
possessing extensive territories in Normandy[7]. At the battle of
Hastings, which placed the British crown on the head of William,
Montgomery led the

[Illustration]

centre division of the army[8], and contributed to the victory. In
return for this important service, and to bind him more firmly to his
interests, the Conqueror four years afterwards bestowed upon him the two
comtés, or earldoms, of Shrewsbury and Arundel[9]. Of the six rapes[10]
into which Sussex is divided, two, comprising Chichester and <g>Arundel</g>,
and calculated to contain eighty-four knights’ fees[11] and a half, were
set apart to form the honour[12] of Arundel. Of this and his other
princely territories, Montgomery retained possession during a period of
twenty years; and the ample revenues which they produced enabled him to
support that dignity, splendour, and host of retainers which bespoke the
rank of one of the great vassals of the crown. He was a man, according
to Orderic[13], of exemplary prudence and moderation; a great lover of
equity, and of discreet and modest persons. When he perceived his end
approaching, the attachment which he had always felt for a religious
life induced him to solicit admission to the Abbey of Shrewsbury, which
he had founded; and there, three days after he had assumed the monastic
habit[14], he expired in the month of July, 1094. Of his family,
consisting of five sons and four daughters, an account will be found in
the Appendix.

[Sidenote:

1098 {
1102 {
]

On the death of Roger Montgomery, his English possessions descended by
will to <g>Hugh</g>, his younger son, whose life, like that of his brother
<g>Robert</g>, was spent in wars of retaliation and aggression; seconding the
enterprises of the turbulent nobles of his period; alternately opposing,
and punished by, the king. When an attempt was made upon the island of
Anglesea by the king of Norway[15], Hugh made all haste to give him a
warm reception; but although the enemy was put to flight, one of his
arrows taking effect upon the Earl of Arundel[16], entered at the eye,
and passing through the brain, struck him dead from his horse. He was
buried in Shrewsbury. From Hugh the earldom passed to his elder brother
Robert, Comte of Belesme, in La Perche, on payment of a fine to the king
of three thousand pounds--an immense sum at that period. But on the
revolt of the latter, when his possessions were forfeited to King Henry
the First, the honour and castle of Arundel were resumed as property of
the Crown.

By <g>Henry</g> they were settled in dower upon his second queen, Adeliza,
daughter of Godfrey, Duke of Lorraine, who on the death of the king
conveyed them by a second marriage to William de

[Illustration]

<g>Albini</g>, lord of Buckenham in Norfolk, of whose descendants we shall make
more deliberate mention hereafter. When the Empress <g>Matilda</g>, daughter of
Henry the First, and mother of Henry the Second, landed in England in
1139, to assert her claims against the usurper Stephen, she was
received, as will hereafter be noticed, at Arundel, and lodged with her
retinue in the castle--an event which served greatly to advance and
establish the fortunes of Albini. For the news of her landing having
alarmed the Usurper, he drew his forces immediately under the walls, and
laid close siege to the castle. Albini, however, not only preserved his
royal guest from violence, but, by good generalship or caution, secured
for her a safe-conduct to Bristol, from which she took shipping and
returned to the Continent.

On the accession of her son, Henry the Second, this and other faithful
services were not forgotten by the sovereign, who, to testify the sense
in which he viewed Albini’s devotion to his cause, confirmed to him and
to his heirs for ever the honour and castle of Arundel[17]. He died in
1176, and William, his son and successor, in 1196.

<g>William de Albini</g>, the third in regular descent who enjoyed the earldom
of Arundel, is well known in history as one of the barons who signed the
Magna Charta, and otherwise evinced himself one of the most talented and
enterprising men of his day. Having died on his way home through Italy
in 1221, he was succeeded by his son William, the fourth earl, who dying
early, without issue, was succeeded by his brother, <g>Hugh</g> de Albini, the
last of the race. Hugh died in 1243, leaving four sisters, or their
representatives, as his co-heirs, amongst whom, under a special
commission from the Crown, his manorial estates were divided. Of these
four sisters, the second, Isabel, had married Fitzalan of Oswaldestre;
and to her son John Fitzalan, as nephew to the late Earl Hugh, the
castle of Arundel and all its appurtenances descended by inheritance.
This was the beginning of a new line of Earls--the Fitzalans of Arundel,
six of whom in succession held that distinguished rank in the state.

[Illustration]

<g>The Fitzalan Family</g>, like those of Montgomery and Albini, was of Norman
origin, and descended from Alan, the son of Fleald, who attended the
Conqueror at the battle of Hastings, and received, amongst other spoils
of the vanquished, the castle of Madoc-ap-Meredith in Wales, with the
lordship of Oswaldestre in Salop. His wife was a daughter of
Warren-the-Bald, sheriff of Shropshire, and consequently grand-niece of
Roger Montgomery. By her he had two sons; William, who, adopting his
patronymic, was called Fitz-Alan; and Walter, who, pursuing his fortunes
in Scotland and being appointed by King David grand-steward of the
kingdom, became the progenitor of the royal family of <g>Stuart</g>[18].
William Fitzalan, the elder brother, married Ellen, daughter of William
Peverel, and niece of Robert, Earl of Gloucester, and with her obtained
a large accession of property in Bretagne. He defended Shrewsbury
against Stephen, fought with the Empress Matilda at Winchester, and at
the accession of Henry the Second was appointed sheriff of Shropshire.
At his death he left an only son, William, whose marriage with Isabel,
daughter and heiress of Ingelram-de-Say, added the extensive lordship of
Clun to the patrimonial possessions of the family; when the titles of
Clun and Oswaldestre were first united, and continue in the Howard
family to the present day. After the death of William, the first lord of
these honours, his son and successor survived him only five years, and
leaving no issue, the property devolved on his brother, John Fitzalan,
who, in concert with the Barons, opposed the tyrannical measures of the
king, and was appointed by Henry the Third one of the Lords Marchers in
Wales. At his death he was succeeded by his only son, the subject of
this notice, and first of his family who was Earl of Arundel.

On two occasions, however, the family honours and property were
alienated by attainder, and given in the first instance to Edmund, Earl
of Kent; and in the latter to Holland, Duke of Exeter. This took place
in the persons of Edmund the third, and Richard the fifth earl; but in
both cases their sons were restored to that station and inheritance
which their own political offences had forfeited.

[Sidenote:

1415 {
     {
]

<g>Thomas</g>, the sixth earl of the Fitzalan line, dying without issue, left
three sisters as his co-heirs. But his grandfather, Richard, in order to
prevent the further division of the honour, had entailed it first upon
his Countess for the term of her natural life; and then on the heirs
male of his own body, by the said Countess Alianor, with remainders
over. In pursuance of this arrangement, therefore, the castle and
estates of Arundel passed, on the demise of Earl Thomas, to his
second-cousin, John Fitzalan, Lord Maltravers, from whom it again
descended through a succession of seven earls of the united families of
Fitzalan and Maltravers--many of them highly distinguished, and
terminated in Henry, the twenty-second Earl of Arundel.

<g>Henry’s</g> only son, a youth of splendid accomplishments, had died at
Brussels; and of his two daughters, Joan, the elder, was married to Lord
Lumley; and Mary to Thomas Howard, fourth Duke of Norfolk. But the
latter, having died after giving birth to a son, Philip Howard; and the
other, Lady Lumley, having been married twenty years without issue; a
fine was levied in 1570, by which the earl, ten years previous to his
death, entailed the castle and honour of Arundel, with a numerous list
of parks, forests, lands, estates, &c., upon Lord Lumley and Joan, his
wife, for the term of their separate lives, remainder to the lawful
heirs of the said Joan, remainder to Philip, son of Mary, Duchess of
Norfolk, and his heirs.[19]

[Sidenote:

1581. {
      {
]

<g>Philip</g>, first of the Ducal House of Howard invested with the title of
Earl of Arundel, continued in the enjoyment of his honours only during
the short period of eight years, when, as will hereafter appear, he was
attainted in 1589, and his estates forfeited to the crown. Fifteen years
later, however, they were restored to his son Thomas, on the accession
of King <g>James</g>, who was anxious to redress the wrongs of the father, by
extending the hand of royal favour to the son. This event in the
fortunes of the Howard family took place in 1604; and from that period
down to the present time, the title has passed without interruption
through a line of descendants--

    Cui genus a proavis ingens, clarumque paternæ
    Nomen erat Virtutis.

<g>With</g> this brief and hasty sketch of the origin of the Castle of Arundel
and its powerful lords, whose deeds and destinies shed around its
history feelings of mingled sympathy and admiration; we turn aside to
view the fortress, whose apartments have been the hereditary asylum and
berçeau of patriotism, chivalry, piety, and British independence, during
a period of eight centuries.

    Combien de souvenirs ici sont retracés!
    J’aime à voir ces glacis, ces angles, ces fossés,
    Ces vestiges épars des siéges, des batailles,
    Ces boulets qu’arrêta l’épaisseur des murailles.

[Illustration]

To the great antiquity of Arundel Castle we have already adverted.
BEVIS[20]--a hero of romance--is currently believed to have been its
founder; but however easily this may be disputed, the fact of its having
been a royal fortress, long before the Conquest, seems fully
established. The earliest recorded evidence to this effect appears in
the Domesday Survey, where it is stated that, in the time of Edward the
Confessor, the castle of Arundel[21] rendered for a certain mill forty
shillings, for one pasture twenty shillings; and that between the town,
the port, and the customs of the shipping, it rendered twelve pounds,
and was worth thirteen.

But as the name and epoch of its founder remain in total obscurity[22],
conjecture, however plausible or ingenious, would here be fruitless; and
leaving the fanciful antiquary and etymologist to indulge their several
tastes in exploring the labyrinth of fable, we turn at once to the
broad noon of history, to draw from authentic sources such facts as may
appear in some respects more extraordinary than fiction.

[Illustration]

<g>The Castle of Arundel</g>, in point of situation, presents every advantage
which could be desired for the erection of a military fortress. At the
southern extremity of the elevated platform on which it stands, a strong
wall inclosed the inner court, containing upwards of five acres; on the
north-east and south-east a precipitous dip of the hill, to at least
ninety feet, rendered the castle inaccessible. On the remaining sides, a
deep fosse, protected on the north by a double vallation, and cutting
off all external communication in that direction, secured the garrison
against any sudden incursion or surprise. Or, if assailed,--

    From gate and battlemented tower
    Fell the warder’s iron shower--
    And swift and sharp, from twanging yew,
    The feathered shafts incessant flew.

In the centre of this spacious area, rose the <g>donjon</g> or Keep, circular
in form, of enormous strength, crowning a lofty artificial mound, and
commanding a wide and uninterrupted view of all the neighbouring
approaches. The height of the mount, from the bottom of the fosse on the
external side, was seventy feet; on the internal, sixty-nine; and with
that of the walls and battlements, by which it was crowned, presented a
commanding elevation on the east of ninety-six feet; and on the west, of
one hundred and three. The walls, measuring from eight to ten feet in
thickness, inclosed a nearly circular space, varying between fifty-nine
and sixty-seven feet in diameter, which afforded accommodation for the
garrison. The apartments, judging from the corbel stones still
remaining, appear to have been arranged round the walls, converging
towards the centre, from which they received their light, as from an
open cupola. Externally there were neither loop-holes nor openings in
the masonry, from which, as in other keeps, an army could be annoyed; so
that it was only from the ramparts and battlements that the garrison
could repel an assault.--See Dallaway’s Rape of Arundel and Horsted’s
History.

Such in all probability was the ‘Castrum de Harundel’ when the Conqueror
placed it in the hands of Roger Montgomery, and such as it had been
when erected by the wise policy of King Alfred. At this time the Keep
appears to have comprised the whole strength of the place, the barbican
or outer rampart excepted; so that to give it the strength and space of
a Norman castle, by contributing those improvements which the
circumstances of the time demanded, and of which its natural position
was highly susceptible, engaged the first care of its Norman possessor.
The external walls, accordingly, were faced with a new casing of Caen
stone; the whole structure was supported at intervals by broad flat
buttresses; and on the south-east side of the Keep an improved

[Illustration]

entrance was effected, where the Norman art is still visible. It is a
wide semicircular <g>archway</g> cut through the solid wall, ornamented on the
inner side with a plain torus moulding, and terminated on the outer by a
smaller arch, richly carved with the chevron and other ornaments in
common use during the latter part of the eleventh century.[23]

But of all the architectural improvements effected by Roger Montgomery
in the wide area beneath the Keep, the most conspicuous in the present
day is the great Gateway. It consists of a square tower standing over an
arched way, which forms the entrance to the court, and communicates with
the Keep by a raised passage carried across the moat, and terminated by
a flight of steps. The upper part of this tower is supposed to be the
work of the thirteenth century; but the lower portion, comprising the
whole of the covered-way, retains its original stamp, and presents a
striking specimen of Norman taste. The arch is circular, without a
keystone, and quite destitute of ornament. The arch, as well as all that
remains of the ancient front of the tower, is composed of square blocks
of Pulborough stone, the angles of which still preserve their original
sharpness. A portcullis was formerly placed at the outer extremity of
the passage, which was probably still further strengthened by a
drawbridge over the fosse immediately beneath it.[24]--See the
engravings.

The Barbican, or <g>Bebis’ Tower</g>, as it is generally called, is another of
those warlike adjuncts by which the Norman baron strengthened and
improved his new residence. It occupies the north-west side of the ditch
by which the Keep is surrounded, and, notwithstanding the ravages of
siege and storm, presents many of the characteristic features of Norman
architecture. It is an oblong tower, supported by a huge buttress at
each of its angles, and originally was of considerable elevation; but
during the Parliamentary siege, about to be noticed, the upper part was
destroyed, and the temporary roof which now covers it was supplied at a
later period. The whole is now invested with a luxuriant mantle of ivy,
and presents, like the adjoining Keep, a green pyramidal mass of
foliage, through which at intervals the grey stone and white mortar are
discernible. It is haunted ground--

    For there, ’tis said, ’mid scenes forlorn,
      When midnight spreads her dreary pall,
    The blast of Bebis’ bugle-horn
      Rings loudly from its ramparts tall.
    While, starting to the unearthly sound,
    Warrior spectres gather round;
    And dismal through the dusky air,
    Banners gleam and torches glare--
    Till all, at cock-crow, to their shrouds
    Shrink away like fleeting clouds.

Under the east end of the Castle is an immense <g>vault</g>, described by a
late historian of the Castle as sixty-six feet in length by nearly
twenty-one feet in width, and upwards of fourteen feet high. The arches
are circular, and formed of square blocks of chalk strengthened by four
transverse ribs of massive stone. The walls, varying in thickness,
present at different parts externally a compact mass of seven feet and
upwards. This is the dismal receptacle in which the unhappy captive whom
the fortune of war had placed at the mercy of his feudal lord, or the
culprit who had violated the laws, were shut up in miserable durance.
Few have ever traversed that dreary vault without an involuntary
shudder, as imagination conjured up the scenes of human agony that must
have transpired unheard, unpitied, under the veil of its sepulchral
darkness--

    Where oft, at the dark and midnight watch,
      As the sentry walks his round,
    The wail of pain, and the clanking chain,
      Send forth a dismal sound.

[Sidenote:

1404. {
      {
]

A curious instance of escape from this dungeon, in connexion with the
law of sanctuary, is recorded by Mr. Tierney, on the authority of Bishop
Rede’s Register:--A person named John Mot, having been committed on a
charge of robbery, contrived to elude the vigilance of his keepers,
passed the

[Illustration]

enclosure of the castle, and had nearly succeeded in effecting his
retreat, when his flight becoming known, the constable, assisted by a
part of the inhabitants, followed in close pursuit. Finding that he was
likely to be overtaken, the fugitive turned to the College of the Holy
Trinity, and seizing the ring attached to the gate, claimed the rights
of sanctuary. The constable, however, appears to have doubted the
validity of this appeal to ecclesiastical protection, and the captive
was forcibly disengaged, and hurried back to prison. But the
circumstance got wind; rumours of the occurrence soon spread through the
neighbourhood; the immunities of the church and the laws of sanctuary
were said to have been violated; two of the parties who had aided the
constable in securing the offender were summoned before the bishop, to
answer the charge in person. Being questioned, and found guilty, they
were ordered to make a pilgrimage on foot to the shrine of St. Richard,
at Chichester, to present an offering there according to their ability;
to be cudgelled (fustigati) five times through the church of Arundel,
and five times to recite the Pater-noster, the Ave, and the Creed, upon
their knees before the crucifix at the high-altar. Before, however, this
sentence could be carried into execution, it was ascertained that, on
discovery of the error which had been committed, the captive had been
“restored to the church.” The cudgelling was therefore ordered to be
remitted; and an offering of a burning taper by each of the offending
parties at the high-mass on the following Sunday, was substituted in its
place.[25]

Of the <g>Baronial Chapel</g>, believed to have been erected at the same time,
and now converted into the modern dining-room of the castle, little is
known, beyond the fact of its having existed in the latter part of the
thirteenth century[26]. During the minority of Richard Fitzalan, a royal
patent was issued, by which we learn that the king, in right of the
wardship which he possessed, presented to “the chapel of St. George,
within the castle of Arundel.”[27] From that early period, down to the
close of the last century, when the late Duke entered upon his plans for
restoring the castle to its original splendour, this hallowed apartment
had served as the family oratory of the <g>Montgomeries</g>, the <g>Albinis</g>, the
<g>Fitzalans</g>, the <g>Howards</g>. But the rich and beautiful Gothic temple which
the Duke has substituted has, in some degree, compensated for the
metamorphosis to which the primitive altar of the family has been
subjected. The spot, however, where an altar had stood for centuries--at
which so many generations had knelt in their joy or their sorrow; had
paid the tribute of gratitude in prosperity, and implored succour in
adversity; at which the marriage benediction, the baptismal rite, and
the solemn service for the dead, had been so long and often
celebrated--such a spot, however transformed by the hand of man, to
whatever secular purposes converted, possesses that inherent sanctity
which no disguise can obliterate--

    Unseen a hallowed incense fills the air,
    And mystic voices peal the notes of prayer.
    Still round that shrine where once the VIRGIN smiled,
    And kings and shepherds hailed the SAVIOUR-CHILD,
    A seraph watches with extended wing,
    And angel-quires their songs of triumph sing.

[Illustration]

<g>The South-east</g> front of Arundel Castle, which crowns an abrupt descent
overlooking the river Arun, appears, in common with the dungeon already
described, to have been the work of Montgomery, and contemporary with
the adjoining tower. This opinion is confirmed by the close resemblance
of its external masonry to that of the keep; as well as by the remains
of some double round-headed windows, still visible in the walls, and
which strictly correspond with double arches in Winchester Cathedral,
built about the same epoch by Walkelin, cousin of William the Conqueror.

[Sidenote: 1094. {]

Whatever appears to have been necessary for the strength and security of
a Norman baron and his retainers, seems to have been fully and
expeditiously effected by <g>Earl Roger</g>, whose experienced eye and warlike
spirit soon detected the weak points of Arundel Castle, and supplied a
remedy in those massive walls and outworks, which, with a
well-disciplined garrison, must have rendered it impregnable in all the
ordinary extremities of foreign or domestic warfare. The earl who next
employed his taste and munificence in the work, was Richard Fitzalan,
the third of his family, to whom we shall return in a subsequent
notice. Having obtained a patent, authorising him to strengthen the
defences of the town, by enclosing it on the exposed sides with walls,
he appears to have availed himself of the same opportunity to rebuild
the upper part of the old gatehouse, which had now stood upwards of a
century, and to enlarge it on the west by the erection of an external
gateway, a correct engraving of which is here introduced.

[Illustration]

It consists of a long covered passage, “approached originally by a
drawbridge over the fosse;” the entrance is under an “obtusely-pointed
arch without machicolations, defended by a portcullis, and flanked by
two square embattled towers, which are divided into four stories of
apartments.” The lowest of these comprises the dungeons, entirely dark,
and sunk to a depth of nearly fifteen feet below the bottom of the
fosse. The upper rooms are lighted externally by narrow label-headed
windows; and at the west corner a chamber, which extends along the whole
of the covered-way, communicates with one of these apartments. This
central chamber is still perfect, and accessible, by a spiral stone
staircase, from the passage below. In the north wall of the archway is
the ancient sally-port[28], which opens into the ditch. The foundation
of the well-tower, and the construction of the present entrance to the
Keep, are of similar origin with the gateway. Originally it was of
considerable elevation; but having suffered by the united efforts of
time and violence, the upper part was taken down by order of the late
Duke, and the rubbish thrown into the well, which, according to our
cicerone, was three hundred feet in depth[29]. In most of the ancient
fortresses, situated on lofty and commanding situations, the
garrison-well was always an object of paramount interest. The labour and
ingenuity with which it was constructed, and the almost incredible depth
to which it was often found necessary to perforate, before an adequate
supply of that indispensable requisite, pure water, could be secured,
are sufficient to excite our curiosity and admiration.

In the square tower immediately adjoining, on the east side, is “the
present entrance to the Keep. Its narrow pointed arch is concealed
beneath the dark projection of the tower; whilst the portcullis which
once closed its approach, and the steep winding ascent which conducts to
it, must have rendered the position of this garrison impregnable”--so
far as that could be accomplished by art; for it is only in the hands of
the truly brave that any place can be pronounced impregnable[30].

<g>The tower</g>, which is a continuation of that built over the well, is
curiously contrived: its eastern wall is built against the old Norman
door-way, in such a manner as to include within it about one-third of
the open space of the arch. Parallel with this wall, on the inner side,
is another erected about three feet distant, forming a long narrow slit
within the tower, which, by means of the enclosed portion of the ancient
arch, opens a direct communication with the interior of the Keep. Over
this covered space is a sort of stone funnel, resembling a chimney, with
an opening into a chamber above; and immediately below, at the base of
the outer wall, is a very small pointed arch, which is supposed to have
been intended either as a sally-port, or as a private entrance to the
fortress when other avenues were necessarily closed. Scarcely rising
above the surface, it escaped observation, and enabled a spy to
disappear almost as if he had sunk into the earth; whilst, in case of
discovery or of an enemy attempting to force a passage by this aperture,
the funnel above presented a prompt sluice, through which melted lead,
boiling water, and other destructive missiles could be discharged upon
the heads of the intruders, so as completely to cut of all access to the
interior[31].

[Illustration]

The ancient Chapel or <g>Oratory</g> of the garrison is another of those
architectural features which owe their foundation to Richard Fitzalan.
It was dedicated to St. Martin, and together with that of St.
George--the Baronial Chapel already noticed--is mentioned in Domesday
Survey, as enjoying an annual rent of twelve-pence, payable by one of
the burgesses of Arundel[32]. The view from this consecrated spot, as
observed through the opening of its mutilated arches, offers one of the
finest coups-d’œil in this romantic and commanding position. The chapel
is a relic of great interest--but only a relic, for

                Now loud, now fainter
    The gale sweeps thro’ its fretwork, and oft sings
    The owl his anthem, where the silenced quire
    Lie with their hallelujahs quenched like fire.

<g>The Keep</g> of Arundel Castle,--for so many ages the residence of a warlike
garrison,--is now abandoned to the ‘owls and bats.’ Of the former, the
breed is peculiar to the place, and the largest in the kingdom. To the
student of natural history, a visit to their domicile is a treat of no
common interest. Strangers often resort from a great distance to make
acquaintance with them; and many who attach little importance to
Minerva, are struck with the gravity of her representatives in
Arundel-Keep.

[Illustration]

The “portraits,” here introduced, were taken from life, with a peep into
their domestic economy, which is conducted in the old niche-like
fire-place of the garrison, where the steel-clad warrior of other days
has often prepared his hasty mess, or chafed his limbs after a cold
night-watch on the battlements. There is here, perhaps, no fox to look
out from the loophole and bay the moon; but these <g>Owls</g> are no unpoetical
substitutes to proclaim the changes that have come over this once
thickly peopled fortress.

When we visited them in October last, they consisted of three couples,
and in size and appearance fully justified the character we had heard of
them. They are not permitted, however, to remain at large; a strong
circular netting is thrown over the Keep, and under this awning they may
enjoy everything--except liberty. They have the advantage also of
separate niches for the enjoyment of connubial happiness: but it is easy
to observe that, not having freedom, they fancy they have nothing worth
having. The custodé, in order to show them off to advantage, dislodged a
couple; and certainly the expanse of wing which they showed in their
flight to the opposite side, was much more like that of an eagle than an
owl. At that moment the fact of their being prisoner seemed to have been
forgotten; for when removed from their perch by an unceremonious ‘poke’
of the keeper’s rod of office, they made an ambitious attempt to soar at
once into the sky; but the netting was too strong, and, compelled to
keep a horizontal flight, they dropped sulkily into a niche in the
opposite wall, with a peculiar barking sound, very expressive of
indignation and disappointment.

Several of these horned owls, as curious specimens of natural history,
have been stuffed, and advanced to posthumous honours in the Castle
gallery. With one of them, the patriarch of the family, an anecdote is
connected, which in justice to his memory we think it our duty to
record:--Some years ago an elderly gentleman on his way through Arundel,
took advantage of a short halt at the Norfolk Arms to visit the Castle.
He was much pleased, as all sensible visitors must be, with everything
he saw, but most with the grave moping owls of the Keep. But of all the
family, one in particular had a sagacity of expression which appeared to
engross the whole attention of his visitor. His horns long, and
horizontally projecting from either temple; his scarlet-coloured eyes,
that seemed as if they had become inflamed by long-continued study; his
wings that hung loosely about him like a professor’s gown; his face, his
feet--every feature in short, seemed to say--This is no common owl.

‘He’s a sagacious fellow, this!’ observed the stranger. ‘Very, sir,’
said the keeper, ‘very!--We always calls him the Chancellor.’ ‘The what?
the chancellor?’ ‘Yes, sir; sometimes the chancellor and sometimes Lord
Eldon--he’s so very wise!’--the stranger was highly amused at finding a
namesake under the ivy in Arundel Keep; and we need scarcely add that
the visitor was, in fact, the chancellor himself--the late venerable and
learned Lord Eldon.

[Illustration: A]s an ‘ivy-mantled tower,’ this <g>Keep</g> is without a rival
in all we can recollect of foreign and domestic castles. The artificial
mound on which it stands, is a dense mass of ornamental trees and
shrubs--half girdled by a solitary walk along the bottom of the ancient
fosse, over which the redundant verdure throws a delicious freshness. On
the side facing the open court, the masonry of the Keep is concealed
under a thick mantle of ivy, which climbs to the very summit, and in its
ascent, flings its luxuriant festoons over every projecting fragment.
The interior is clothed with the same perennial drapery; and once
deserted by man, nature has taken the ruin under her own immediate
protection--repairing the shattered walls, filling up every blank, and
mantling the whole in her own livery.

To those who are fond of romantic scenes and impressions, it would be
difficult to select a more congenial spot than the Keep in question;
particularly by moonlight, when all the rich and waving outline of the
ruin is brought forward in bright silver tracery. In certain conditions
of that luminary, the effect of light and shade is peculiarly striking;
and it requires but little assistance from imagination to embody, among
its isolated projections, the airy forms of sentinels planted at various
intervals; their arms coming every now and then into sudden relief, as
the moon touches the glittering leaves with her

[Illustration]

fitful light, and the night breeze communicates to the detached branches
a sort of temporary, life-like movement. It is then that airy visions
are said to haunt the place, and not unfrequently cross the path of the
intruder:--

    For oft on the mouldering Keep by night
     <g>Earl Roger</g> takes his stand,
    With the sword that shone at Hastings’ fight,
      Firm grasped in his red right hand!
    Then he calls his spectre-knights by name--
      To their spectre-Chief they fly
    When each gauntlet rears its bristling spears,
      To their Norman battle-cry!
    But beware--beware to wander there,
      At the mass of the blessed Yule
    When, with spectral forms in glittering arms,
      That haunted Keep is full!
    ’Tis then they shout, as they shouted once
      When our Saxon standard fell;
    And the Norman blade its carnage stayed
      At the sound of <g>Harold’s</g> knell! etc.--MS

Of the four original towers, planted at regular intervals around the
enclosed space beyond the Keep, all, with the exception of the barbican
already mentioned, appear to have been the work of the period in
question. They are of the same form as that of the outer gateway, and
have the facilities of free intercourse by means of a connecting walk
along the ramparts. They were all dismantled during the last siege; but
in the ruins which still remain, the characteristic style of Earl
Richard is apparent. Two sally-ports of the same date, and at opposite
sides of the enclosure, may still be seen in a state of
preservation.--See ‘History of the Castle.’--50.

The next embellishment bestowed upon the Castle of Arundel was the <g>great
Hall</g>. It was erected by Richard, grandson of the Richard Fitzalan whose
taste and munificence had contributed the addition already mentioned.

[Illustration]

It was in the style of Edward the Third; with an entrance from the
court, through a deep pointed doorway, under a plain projecting porch.
The hall itself was entirely demolished during the Parliamentary siege
referred to in these pages; but the remaining doorway continued to
indicate the splendour of the original design, till its place was
occupied by a still more striking and elaborate structure--<g>the Barons’
Hall</g> of the present century.

The last addition to this baronial seat of so many illustrious families,
was the wing on the north-east side; but when the restoration of the
Castle was commenced under the auspices of the late Duke, this was
removed to make room for the great library. The character of its
architecture was that of the time of Henry the Eighth. It consisted of
the family apartments, with a splendid gallery, a hundred and twenty
feet in length, lighted by eight windows looking into the court, and
erected by Earl Henry, the last of the Fitzalans.

In the preceding outline we have endeavoured to convey a general idea of
the Castle of Arundel, as it appeared at the commencement of the
seventeenth century--enriched by the labour of centuries, and the
accumulated fame of the Montgomeries, the Albinis, the Fitzalans, and
the Howards; all of whom had manifested a strong attachment to the
place, strengthened by associations which connected them with the most
brilliant events of English history, and identified their names and
fortunes with those of Arundel. But at the disastrous period of the
great civil war, the noble proprietor was an exile. The succession of
calamities, which had given the family history of his immediate
predecessors such mournful interest, was still felt in its consequences,
and contributed, with other causes, to invest the fortress of his
ancestors with many bitter as well as bright remembrances. Under these
circumstances, the possession of Arundel Castle became an object of
sanguinary contention between the Royal and Parliamentary leaders, and,
being alternately taken and retaken, was as often delivered up to the
reckless fury of its captors.

[Sidenote: 1642.{]

<g>Sir Ralph Hopton</g> having received orders to dislodge the Parliamentary
troops, marched from his head-quarters at Winchester, and laid siege to
Arundel. The garrison was not in a condition to offer any effectual
resistance, and on the third day the Royal standard was floating from
the Keep. Placing the fortress in as defensive a position as time and
circumstances would permit, and delegating the command to Sir Edward
Ford, Hopton returned to Winchester. This was too favourable an occasion
to be lost sight of by the Parliament, and <g>Sir William Waller</g> was
instructed to take instant measures for the recovery of the Castle. His
march was greatly facilitated by a severe frost, so that the
cross-roads, which would otherwise have been impassable, were
sufficiently hard to admit of his transporting the cavalry and heavy
ordnance to the scene of action; and on Tuesday, the nineteenth of
December, his guns were directed against the Castle.

On the Friday following, a despatch from Waller was read in the House of
Lords, in which he details the progress of the siege in terms so
characteristic of the times, that we cannot omit its insertion in this
place:--“My Lords, According to your commands, I advanced the last
Lord’s day from Farnham to this place. I could not reach that night past
Haslemere; the nexte day I marched to Cowdray, where we understanding
there were four troopes of horse and one hundred foote, I resolved to
give them the good night; and to

[Illustration]

that end I despatched away two regiments of horse to lay the passage
round; but they were too nimble for me, and escaped hither, where I
overtook them on Tuesday night. The next morning, after we had taken a
view, and found out a place where we might flank their line with our
ordnance, we fell in upon the north side of the workes; and we did so
scower a weedy hill in the park, on the west side of the pond, with our
pieces, that we made it too hot for them, which gave such courage to our
men, that with the same breath they assaulted an entrenchment newly cast
up, and which was very strong. It was drawn from the town gate down to
the aforesaid pond near the mill. At the same time we fell on a narrow
passage near the mill, where they had likewise a double work and very
strong; but in a short time, by the good hand of God, we forced both,
and entered the town with our horse and foote, notwithstanding a brave
sally made by their horse. We beat them into the castle, and entered the
first gate with them; the second they made good and barricaded; and
they are there welcome to stay. I am resolved to block them up, for I
know they are in a necessitous condition. God hath been pleased to
blesse me hitherto with a gracious successe, his great and holy name be
praysed! But truely, my Lord, I am very weake in foote, and my horse so
hackneyed out that they are ready to lie down under us. I expect Colonel
Behre and Colonel Morley here this day.”

The progress of the siege is too lengthy for detail in this place; but
we proceed with a few extracts characteristic of the spirit with which
it was conducted:--“To-day,” says the relation, “Major Bodley did a
notable exploit; he, perceiving divers in the castle looking forth in a
balcone, took unto himself and twelve others their muskets into a
private place of advantage, from whence they already discharged into the
said balcone, and slew and wounded divers of the enemy.” A very ‘notable
exploit’ indeed! the said Major appears to have been one of those heroes
who like ‘to shoot round a corner.’ “The same day,” continues the
narrative, “two sacres were planted in the steeple with divers
musquetiers, who, on Friday morning betimes, played hotly on the enemy,
which appeared on the top of the Castle. (The church steeple is within
easy musket-shot of the battlements.) The same day divers were taken in
their intended escape from the Castle: also, the contents of a pond
being drained, it emptied the wells of water within the Castle, so that
now the enemy began to be distressed with thirst; divers fled from the
Castle and were taken prisoners.” “On Sunday,” agreeably to the record,
“divers more fled; many horses were turned forth, of which our soldiers
made a good purchase; only one of them was shot by the enemy, whose
bloody crueltie and inhuman malice did mightily appear against us, in
that they took and hewed him all to pieces, which, doubtlesse, they
would have done to us, had we been likewise in their power. On Tuesday
the enemy made shew of a salley, but hereupon the drums did beat and the
trumpets sounded; all our men were presently gathered together in a fit
posture to charge the enemy, when they presently took to their heels,
and so manfully retreated. On Tuesday we planted ordnance in a new place
against the Castle, which made the enemy that they durst not peep over
the walls to shoot at us. On Wednesday divers came forth again into the
balcone, having forgot the former danger, whereupon we placed divers
musquetiers in the ruins of an old chappel, from whence we did good
execution upon them”--adopting, it is presumed, the aforesaid practice
of Major Bodley, of shooting round the corner. “On Thursday more of the
enemies were taken escaping out of the Castle, and that afternoon the
enemy hung out a white flag pretending a parley, and calling to some of
our men, delivered them letters directed to our Generall, in which they
desired sack, tobacco, cards and dice to be sent unto them, to make
merry this idle time, promising to return for them beef and mutton; but
the truth is,” says the narrator, “they wanted even bread and water, and
that night did put divers live oxen over the walls of the Castle, for
want of fodder.” In another place he mentions that “some of the enemies
fled out of the castle, and escaped by the river Arun, in a boat made of
a raw oxe hide.” There was also skirmishing between Hopton’s and
Waller’s horse, to the advantage of the latter. “On Friday the fifth of
January, on the eve of capitulation, the enemy,” says he, “began to feel
the fruits of their deserts, being extremely pinched with famine.”

The next letter, dated January 6, 1643, is addressed by Waller to
Lieut.-General the Earl of Essex:--“My Lord, on Thursday the enemy sent
a drummer to me, signifying their willingness to surrender the Castle,
if they might have honourable conditions. I returned answer, that, when
I first possessed myself of the town, I summoned them into the Castle to
yield upon fair quarter; I now took them at their word, and bid them
yield to mercy. That

[Illustration]

night I heard no more of them; but the next morning the drummer came to
me again, with another letter, wherein they disavowed that answer to my
trumpet, laying the blame upon one who, they say, had no more soldiery
than civility, that without their assent or knowledge had given that
language. I sent them answer, that I was very well satisfied, that, in
this disavowing that rashness, they had made room for courtesy; and that
I was contented to give them fair quarter, and that, according to their
desire formerly expressed, if they would send out to me two officers of
quality, I would employ two of equal condition to treat with them about
the particulars of the surrender. Within a short time after, there came
out unto me Colonel Bamfield and Major Bodvil, who pressed very much
that they might have liberty to march away like soldiers, otherwise they
would choose death rather than life; and so broke off. About two hours
after they sent out unto me Lieut.-Colonel Rawlins and Major Moulin,
who, after some debate, came to an agreement with me that this morning
they would deliver the castle into my hands by ten of the clock, with
colours and arms undefaced and unspoiled; and that the gentlemen and
officers should have fair quarter and civil usage, and the ordinary
soldiers quarter. For the performance of these covenants, Sir Edward
Ford and Sir Edward Bishop were immediately to be yielded to me, which
was accordingly done.

“This morning we entered, and are now, blessed be God, in possession of
that place. We have taken seventeen colours of foot, and two of horse,
and one thousand prisoners, one with another, besides one hundred and
sixty, which we took at the first entering of the town, and such as came
from the enemy to us during the siege. I humbly desire that the London
regiments may be sent hither to secure this important place, while I
advance with what strength I have towards the enemy, who lye at
Havant.--I humbly rest,” &c.

The result of this siege was ruinous to the Castle. Its successive
occupation by two hostile garrisons; the destructive means employed from
within for its defence, and from without for its reduction, left its
halls roofless, its noble apartments unlatticed; its Keep, gates, and
battlements rent and neglected; and from that day

    “Its huge old halls of knightly state,
     Dismantled lay and desolate.”

At length, after an interval of seventy years, <g>Thomas</g> Duke of Norfolk,
having determined to rescue the baronial seat of his ancestors from
utter destruction, repaired the old and added new apartments, till it
was once more in a habitable condition. But the restoration to which we
have more especially to refer in this place, was commenced in 1786 by
the late Duke, who continued it till his demise in 1815--an interval of
nearly thirty years, during which, although he is said to have expended
six hundred thousand pounds in the execution of his plan, it is still
incomplete. The noble proprietor, himself an amateur in the science of
architecture, superintended all the designs; and wherever any precious
relique of antiquity was to be found, it was carefully drawn or modelled
by skilful artists, and introduced into the plan of the Castle. Hence
the richness and variety observable in the doors, windows, niches, and
architectural ornaments so profusely employed on three sides of the
quadrangle.

<g>The grand entrance</g> to the court-yard of the Castle is formed by a lofty
arched gateway of immense bulk, and generally admired for the
architectural dignity and grandeur of the design. The effect is striking
at first sight, and conveys to the mind of the visitor a feature highly
characteristic of a feudal residence. The arch is pointed, surmounted by
a heavy machicolation, and flanked by two hexagonal towers, which,
according to the original design, were to have been ‘encircled with an
external gallery, terminating at each angle in a turret,’ but the design
remains unfinished. Compared, however, with the old gateway, which
speaks so audibly of other times, the modern structure possesses no
interest; and to enjoy the impression, the stranger must endeavour to
divest his mind of the fact that it is a building of yesterday,
otherwise he will be apt to exclaim with Delille, in his indignation of
modern imitations:--

    “Mais loin.....
     Ces restes d’un château qui n’exista jamais:
     Ces vieux ponts nés d’hier, et cette tour gothique,
     Ayant l’air délabré sans avoir l’air antique,
     Artifice à la fois impuissant et grossier.”

On entering the court through this <g>gateway</g>, the first object that
strikes the eye is a large bas-relief on the opposite side, representing
Alfred the Great instituting the trial by jury on Salisbury Plain. The
spot chosen was by the side of a dead wall. In his left hand is a roll
of parchment, half unfurled, with the Saxon sentence:--“That man fiœbbe
gemot on œlcum wœpentace.” “That man in every hundred shall find twelve
jury.” It occupies a large portion of the front of that part of the
Castle next to the great library, and bearing the appropriate title of
the ‘<g>Alfred Saloon</g>.’ But from the

[Illustration]

faithful and spirited etching here introduced, the reader will obtain a
much clearer idea of the subject than from any description. It is
strictly historical, and was designed by Rossi. It is probable, however,
that this admirable institution did not originate with Alfred, but that
it was only improved and perfected by him[33].

On the right of the gateway stands the Baronial Chapel, a modern
erection of florid Gothic, with pinnacles, niches, buttresses, all in
the best taste and of elaborate workmanship. The interior is not
finished, but the duke intended to have done so after the models of
ancient Saxon and Norman churches, copies of which had been already
procured at the time of his demise.

Adjoining the chapel is the <g>Barons’ Hall</g> or banquet-chamber, a building
much admired. Over four beautiful Saxon arches is a raised parapet,
along the base of which are seen, sculptured in stone, a variety of
hieroglyphic figures, taken from antique designs, illustrative of the
family history, and procured from the Herald’s College, of which his
Grace is hereditary Earl Marshal.

[Illustration]

The south side of the quadrangle is part of the ancient structure,
restored from the ruinous condition in which it had been allowed to
continue from the last siege, down to the accession of the late Duke to
his family honours. It consists of an entirely new front of massive
stone, which differs from the others in exhibiting the insignia of the
Howards in union with those of their predecessors. The grand entrance is
in the Norman style. It is twenty-eight feet wide from the abutments,
fronted with Portland stone, curiously carved, and worked with infinite
intersections of wreathed vine-leaves, roses, laurel, oak, acorns, and
other vegetable emblems. The top is finished with a line of artificial
stone in the shape of fence-work, a little elevated. On the right of the
doorway is a colossal statue of Hospitality; and on the left is another
of Liberty, as seen in the view of the Court already introduced.

The north-east wing, which contains <g>the Library</g>, was commenced in 1801.
Its basement is formed upon the Norman model; its upper part is in the
style of Henry the Sixth, with a projecting square tower in the centre,
and lighted from an oriel window. The sculpture and carving upon the
windows and doorways exhibit much delicacy and beauty of workmanship.
Those under the bas-relief, in front of the Alfred Saloon, are of
elegant design and finish. The Library here mentioned is an apartment of
great magnificence; it measures one hundred and seventeen feet in length
by thirty-five in width, and is, beyond doubt, one of the finest
specimens of modern Gothic in England. It displays the grandeur of
ancient designs under the delicate finish of modern art, and brings into
one view specimens of almost every ornament of which, during the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the graceful Gothic presented so
many exquisite combinations. The book-cases and reading-galleries are
supported by fifteen columns wrought out of the richest Spanish
mahogany; while the ‘spidered roof’ displays a beauty of workmanship and
delicacy of carving, enriched with fruit-foliage, which have seldom been
surpassed. It is divided into several compartments for reading recesses,
and communicates with the Alfred Saloon by two magnificent
folding-doors. At present, however, the shelves are sparingly furnished,
and the mahogany--rich and elaborate as it is--offers a striking
contradiction to those ideas of antiquity which the Gothic carving might
otherwise convey. The chimney-pieces are of fine Carrara marble, and in
their sculpture exhibit pure classical taste.

<g>The great Drawing-room</g> is a spacious noble apartment, and commands an
extensive view of the winding vale of the Arun. It is chiefly
remarkable, however, for the family portraits which adorn its walls and,
to the eye of the historian, throw open a vast and interesting field of
retrospection:

    “For, by dim lights, the portraits of the dead
     Have something ghastly, desolate, and dread.
..... Their buried locks still wave
     Along the canvas; their eyes glance like dreams
     On ours, as stars within some dusky cave;
     But death is imaged in their shadowy beams.”

Of these portraits we noticed about sixteen, one of which is a beautiful
historical piece, by Mather Brown, representing Thomas Howard, Earl of
Surrey, vindicating himself before Henry the Seventh for the part he
took at the Battle of Bosworth. Henry upbraided him with having served
in the cause of the late usurper and tyrant, Richard the Third. “Sir,”
replied Surrey, “he was my crowned king. If the authority of Parliament
had placed the crown on that stake, I would have fought for it. Let it
place it on your head, and you will find me as ready in your defence.”
In the back-ground of the painting, the Princess Elizabeth, sister of
the young princes who were smothered in the Tower, is seen displaying
the red rose as an emblem of the two houses.

Another interesting portrait is that of “Jocky of Norfolk,” father of
the preceding, who fell with Richard at the battle of Bosworth. A third
is the portrait of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, “the delight and
ornament of his age and nation,” whose bright life and tragical end are
familiarly known to every reader.--But to this we purpose to return in a
subsequent part of the work. A fourth is that of Thomas, Duke of
Norfolk, painted by Holbein, whose evil fortunes are so closely
associated with those of Mary Queen of Scots. Also the portraits of his
wife, Mary Fitzalan, the last of her family, who died in her eighteenth
year; and of her only brother, Henry Fitzalan, Lord Maltravers, painted
at Brussels.

There are also portraits of the celebrated Cardinal Howard, of “belted
Will Howard,” and of various other members of the same house, by the
eminent painters of the day.

In the furnishing of these state apartments there is little to excite
attention; it combines elegance with simplicity, but contains nothing
gorgeous in colour or texture. The woodwork is nearly mahogany
throughout. Nothing, however, could be more out of place--a wood that
has been known in this country little more than a century, is ill
associated with the Gothic ornaments of a baronial hall. Old English oak
is, beyond doubt, that which best harmonizes with our ideas in such
places. A piece of old oak carving is an object of never-failing
interest to the mind of an antiquary; but in Arundel Castle we observed
no specimens of native ‘gnarled oak,’ except in the “Windsor rooms.”

<g>The Dining-room</g>--formed, as we have already mentioned, out of the
ancient family chapel--is a lofty, spacious, well-proportioned room, and
chiefly remarkable for its great window of stained glass, which still
throws “a religious light” over the banquet. It is quite modern, and the
historical subject selected for its embellishment is the Meeting of
Solomon and the Queen of Sheba--portraits of the late Duke and
Duchess-dowager of Norfolk. “On each side is a beautiful transparency on
plate-glass--one representing the Mercy-seat in the Jewish tabernacle,
the pillars protected by cherubim, with Aaron’s pitcher and rod lying at
the foot of the altar; the other is a fine representation of the
Interior of the Tabernacle, as transmitted to us in the Biblical
account; and both serving to soften and modify the light as it falls on
the great painting in the centre[34].

[Illustration]

The interior of the <g>Barons’ Hall</g>, however, is by far the most
interesting apartment in the Castle, and claims a high station among the
banquet-rooms of modern times. It was designed, in connexion with the
chapel already noticed, to commemorate the triumph of the Barons over
King John, by the signing of the Great Charter at Runnymede. Its
architecture, like that of the appendant chapel, is in the style of the
fourteenth century. It is seventy-one feet in length by thirty-five in
breadth, lofty in proportion, and, as a whole, produces a striking
effect on the spectator. The roof consists of Spanish chestnut,
elaborately carved in imitation of the richest Gothic originals, with
numerous combinations, emblematical groups, and curious workmanship.
The windows are of the acutely-pointed form; the canopies over the
arches, which are ornamented with the lozenge, rest on corbel-heads of
kings; and the transoms form the lower compartment of each light into a
plain unadorned parallelogram. The windows, however, are the grand
attraction, for in these the story of English freedom is brilliantly
told. They are thirteen in number, nine of which are finished, and
filled with stained glass.

<g>The great window</g> illustrates the ratification of Magna Charta by King
John, who, with ‘an indignant but powerless frown, seems to pause in the
act of affixing his signature to the instrument, as if to upbraid the
uncompromising patriotism of the Barons.’ On his right stand Cardinal
Pandolfo, the Pope’s Legate, and the Archbishop of Dublin, who turns his
head in conversation with other prelates behind him. On his left are
seen Cardinal Langton, a mediator between the King and the Barons, but
who administered an oath to the latter, never to pause in the struggle
till they had obtained full concession of their liberty. Behind the
Archbishop stands Almeric, Master of the Knights Templars[35]. In the
foreground appears Baron Fitzwalter[36], with his page[37]; and behind
him are the Lord Mayor[38] of London, and the attendant guards. In the
background is a distant view of the Camp at Runnymede. For chasteness of
drawing, depth of colouring, and sparkling brilliancy, this window is
considered a masterpiece of modern art.

The other eight windows, executed by Edgington, the talented artist
already mentioned, contain full-length figures of eight Barons,
progenitors of the Norfolk family, who were instrumental in procuring
the Great Charter[39]. They are habited in chain-armour, the military
costume of the thirteenth century, each with his armorial bearings
emblazoned on his surcoat and shield. The heads are actual portraits of
various distinguished members of the house of Howard, some of whom are
still living. The effect is superb, and, at first sight, there is some
difficulty in drawing the distinction between the real and the ideal.
The scenes are so finely isolated, and the single portraits so

[Illustration]

prominent, that each appears as if he had the free and unimpeded use of
his limbs, and could step down into the banquet-hall at his pleasure,

    “To curb a despot and to save the state.”

The door of this magnificent <g>Hall</g> was first thrown open on the 15th of
June, 1815, being the six hundredth anniversary of the great foundation
of English liberty. For the joyful celebration of this glorious epoch in
the old baronial style, a brilliant assembly of rank and title had
arrived from various parts of the country, among whom were twenty-two
representatives of the ancient Howards. Complete suits of armour, in
which the ancient chivalry of England had gathered the spoils of
victory--some at Agincourt, others at Cressy--were arranged in military
order around the walls. Swords, that, by the evidence on their blades,
had “done the state some service;” helmets that had been worn by the
Howards at Flodden, or by “Belted Will” in some of his Border forays;
chain and scale armour; spears and lances that had often gleamed in
strife and tournament--all the implements of ancient warfare, from the
thick iron casque of the archer, to the elaborate and richly-gilded
harness of the baron, were all reburnished and brought into unexpected
light for this occasion. Nothing, in fact, was omitted that could
increase the interest, by giving an air of striking reality to the
scene. If the spirits of the ancient Barons could have looked down upon
the hall in this hour of gorgeous festivity, they would have rejoiced to
see what a bright inheritance their patriotic struggles had bequeathed,
and have felt that they had become, indeed, immortal in the hearts of
their descendants,

At this <g>banquet</g> nearly three hundred guests assisted. At the upper end
of the table was a noble “baron of beef,” surmounted by the ducal
coronet and the banners of the House of Norfolk. The evening was ushered
in by a splendid ball, at which ‘castled Arundel’

              “Had gather’d then
    Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
    The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men.”

<g>The ball</g> was opened by the Duke of Norfolk and the Marchioness of
Stafford--late Duchess-Countess of Sutherland--followed by about fifty
couples, who kept up the dance, enlivened by admirable music, till one
o’clock in the morning, when supper was announced, and the Sussex Band
struck up the patriotic air of “The Roast Beef of Old England,” as an
expressive welcome to the hospitable board. The festal scene was
continued till the mailed warriors, niched in the walls and casements,
caught the morning light on their armour; when King John and Baron
Fitzwalter appeared to signify, that as the <g>Grand Charter</g> was now fully
ratified, lord and dame were at “liberty” to retire--wishing

    “To each and all a fair good night,
     With rosy dreams and slumbers light.”

Among the original Ecclesiastical foundations in Arundel, was the Alien
Priory, or Cell of <g>St. Nicholas</g>, already mentioned. Roger Montgomery,
who had restored the Benedictine Abbey of Seez, in Normandy, granted to
the

[Sidenote:

1102  {
1380. {
]

monks of that establishment, liberty to erect a priory within the town
of Arundel, and the building having been completed, five monks from the
parent abbey arrived and took possession accordingly. In the early part
of the same century, the priory was vacated; and the rectorial residence
adjoining the church, of which William de Albini was patron, was
converted into a residence for the prior and four monks. Thus occupied,
it continued during two centuries to be known as the Convent or Priory
of St. Nicholas. But <g>Richard</g>, Earl of Arundel, having resolved to
connect it with the chapel of his college then about to be established,
obtained from King Richard the Second a grant for that purpose, and on
the site of the ancient priory arose the College of the <g>Holy Trinity</g>, a
quadrangular structure, inclosing a square yard, or court, partly
occupied by cloisters, and partly devoted to other purposes of

[Illustration]

a monastic establishment. On the north side was the Collegiate Chapel,
forming an apparent chancel to the parochial church; on the east were
the refectory and various domestic offices connected with it; and the
remaining sides on the south and west, were occupied by the members of
the fraternity. Within the court was the Master’s house, attached to the
south-east angle of the chapel, with which it communicated by a small
stone balcony on the first story, and a flight of steps, which still
remain, behind the high altar. As the collegiate church was intended to
be the family <g>sepulchre</g> of the founder, every preparation was made to
insure its monumental splendour; and the tomb of his son, Earl <g>Thomas</g>,
was the first of a magnificent series. No stranger can enter this chapel
without being strongly impressed with the classic beauty and elaborate
sculpture of its family monuments. But during the siege already noticed,
these sacred walls were given up as barracks for Waller’s soldiers; and
many of the sepulchral antiquities, with which the place was so richly
adorned, were wantonly mutilated.[40] Six monuments, however, still
remain to fix the attention, and excite the admiration, of all who are
lovers of the arts, or given to the study of Gothic remains. In the
centre is that of Earl Thomas, son of the founder, and his Countess
<g>Beatrix</g>, daughter of John, King of Portugal. It is a large sculptured
altar-tomb of alabaster, formerly painted and gilt, and adorned with
effigies of the earl and countess, in their robes of state. A rich
canopy rises behind the head; and at the feet of the earl is a horse,
the Fitzalan cognizance. At the feet of the countess, two lap-dogs hold
in their mouths the extremity of her mantle. Arranged in niches around
the tomb, are twenty-eight priests, each with an open book in his hand;
and guarding the rim is a series of forty family shields, originally
emblazoned. On the south side of the <g>high Altar</g> is a lofty sacellum,
consisting of an arcade and canopy, composed of elaborate
tabernacle-work, and, in its original state, richly painted and
gilt.--But it would far exceed the limits of this work to convey even a
general idea of these splendid memorials of departed greatness. We were
glad to observe, on our late visit, that the restoration of this chapel
is daily advancing, under the direction of the Duke of Norfolk; and in a
few years, it is to be hoped, may recover something of its original
splendour.

<g>The Church</g>, which forms a principal feature in the general view of the
castle, is a spacious and handsome structure, consisting of a nave, two
aisles, and a transept, surmounted by a low square tower, terminating in
a spire, and forming a conspicuous landmark for mariners. A row of
circular windows inclosing quatrefoils, in the clerestory; an ancient
octagon stone font; a pulpit richly tabernacled in the same material;
several monumental inscriptions, and a roof of Irish oak, proverbial for
its durability, are among the

[Illustration]

objects that deserve attention. In one of the chapel windows is the
figure of a swallow on the wing, which may claim attention from the
etymologist, as pointing to the oft-contested origin of the name
Arundel; for history and geography, says Mr. Tierney, “the realms of
fancy and romance have all been explored in order to discover its
etymon. One author has amused himself with a rebus founded on the
resemblance between the words Arundel and Hirondelle; and it is not
improbable that the migratory bird here introduced may have been
selected as an appropriate emblem for the chapel window. The conjecture
is, at least, as plausible as another that has been advanced; namely,
that Arundel is derived from Hirondelle[41], the name of Bevis’s
horse.”

<g>The Park</g> of Arundel, which contains much picturesque scenery and many
thriving plantations, was originally the hunting-forest of the ancient

[Illustration]

Counts, and covered a great extent of country, which is now either under
cultivation, or converted into pasture. Beyond the pleasure-grounds,
immediately under the Keep, is the Inner Park, entirely surrounded by an
artificial earth-work, still perfect, and adorned with magnificent elm
and beech trees. The new, or Outer Park, comprises an extent of nearly
twelve hundred acres, enclosed by a high wall with lodges, and stocked
with a thousand head of deer. The scenery is variegated by numerous
undulations of surface--alternate ridge and ravine, grove and glade, and
watered by rivulets that derive their source from the neighbouring
Downs.

At a short distance from the entrance to the Park, on the south side, is
<g>Hiorne’s Tower</g>, the subject of the accompanying view. It is a triangular
building, about fifty feet in height, with a turret at each angle, and
in design and execution presents an admirable specimen of Gothic
architecture. The merit of the design is due to the late distinguished
architect, Mr. Hiorne, who superintended its erection, and left it as a
monument to his name. The view from this tower, under a favourable
atmosphere, presents a magnificent

[Illustration]

prospect of the adjoining Park. The soft pastoral hills that trace their
bold outline on the sky; the umbrageous woods that cover the nearer
acclivities; the villages, hamlets, and isolated dwellings that infuse
life and activity into the picture; the herds of deer that are seen at
intervals through the trees; the distant channel with its shipping, and
the shining meanders of the river Arun--all present, in combination, one
of the most richly diversified landscapes on which the eye of poet or of
painter could love to expatiate.

To the readers of romance this scene is rendered doubly interesting by
its immediate vicinity to Pugh-dean, where the graves of <g>Bevis</g>, the
giant castellan of Arundel, and his horse Hirondelle, carry us back to
the days of King Arthur and his knights. To this personage we have
already adverted[42]; “but of his connexion with the Castle of Arundel,”
says Tierney, “it were difficult to trace the origin, although there can
be little doubt that it existed at a very early period. At the bottom of
the valley called Pugh-dean, the locality now under notice, is a low
oblong mound, resembling a raised grave in its form, and known in the
traditions of the neighbourhood as ‘Bevis’s burialplace.’ It is about
six feet wide, and not less than thirty feet long. It is accompanied by
several

[Illustration]

smaller but similar mounds; and although peculiar in its shape, as
compared with Roman and other tumuli which have been examined at
different times, has, nevertheless much of a sepulchral character in its
appearance. It was lately opened to a depth of several feet, but nothing
was discovered in it. In the middle, however, at the bottom to which the
ground was originally made to shelve from each end, a level space of
about six feet in length had been left, as if for the reception of a
deposit; and as the lightness of the soil above seemed to indicate that
it had been merely removed, it is not improbable that this deposit may
have rewarded some antiquary more fortunate than those who were engaged
in the late excavation.”

Not far from this retired valley a different interest is excited by its
having been the site of the chapel and hermitage of St. James--an
hospital for lepers, and built soon after the middle of the thirteenth
century, for the reception of the unhappy outcasts who were afflicted
with that loathsome malady. The clump of trees observed in the view
marks the locale of this ancient sanctuary, which must have enclosed a
very considerable area.

A pleasing incident in the history of Arundel, is the visit of the
<g>Empress Matilda</g> to her step-mother, Queen Adeliza, as already alluded to
in our notice of Albini. Accompanied by her natural-brother, Robert of
Gloucester, and a retinue of one hundred and forty knights, she was
received within the walls of the Castle, and treated with all the
distinction which her own dignity and the affection of her relative
could bestow. The news of her arrival, however, threw the army of <g>King
Stephen</g> into immediate motion, and brought the engines of war under the
walls of the Castle. Fearful of the consequences, Queen Adeliza
determined to try the effects of policy in lieu of force, and appealed
to the chivalrous feelings of the incensed Monarch, in behalf of her
illustrious but ill-timed visitor. She assured him that the only object
of her royal guest in making this visit, was to gratify those feelings
of love and relationship, which might be reasonably supposed to exist
between mother and daughter; that the gates of the Castle had been
thrown open to her, not as a rival to the throne, but as a peacefully
disposed visitor, who had a longing desire to see her native land, and
who was ready to depart whenever it should please the King to grant her
his safe-conduct to the nearest port. It was, moreover, delicately
insinuated, that to lay siege to a Castle, where the only commander of
the garrison was a lady, and where the only offence complained of was a
mere act of hospitality to a female relation, was surely an enterprise
neither worthy of a hero such as his Majesty, nor becoming in him who
was the crowned head of the English chivalry.

The result of this appeal, or of some more convincing argument[43], has
been already stated in the safe retirement of Matilda from the scene of
danger, and her return to Normandy. But a small <g>chamber</g> over the inner
gateway enjoys

[Illustration]

the traditionary fame of having been her sleeping room, during her
sojourn in the Castle. It is a low square apartment, such as the
castellan might have occupied during a siege. But, as an imperial
chamber, it never could have had more than one recommendation, namely
its security, in times when security was the chief object to be kept in
view; and six centuries ago it was no doubt a very eligible state
chamber. The <g>bedstead</g> on which the Empress is said to have reposed--for
we would not disturb any point of popular and poetical faith--is
certainly a relic of considerable antiquity. Its massive walnut posts
are elaborately carved, but so worm-eaten, that, unless tenderly
scrutinised, the wood would be apt to fall into powder in the hands of
the visitor. Looking upon this, as a relic of the twelfth century, it
may be imagined with what feelings the daughter of a King, the consort
of an Emperor, and mother of a King, laid her head upon that humble
couch, reflected on her checkered fate, and felt the shock of warlike
engines under the battlements.

    “’Mid crash of states, exposed to fortune’s frown,
     Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

The other events and incidents which give Arundel particular distinction
among the ancient baronial seats of England, are partly owing to the
regal dignity of its visitors. It was here that Alfred and Harold are
believed to have resided; and it was in the castle of Arundel that
William Rufus, on his return from Normandy, celebrated the feast of
Easter.[44] In 1302, King Edward the First spent some time within its
walls: and from the fact of its containing an apartment familiarly known
as the ‘<g>King’s Chamber</g>,’ it is probable that, in later times, it was
often graced by the royal presence.[45] The luxury and splendour of its
apartments are amply attested by the minute inventories of the costly
materials employed in their decoration; while the princely revenues of
many of its lords permitted them to indulge in a style of hospitality to
which few subjects could aspire. It was frequented by the élite of our
English chivalry; beauty and valour were its hereditary inmates; its
court resounded to the strains of music; while military fêtes and
religious solemnities gave alternate life and interest to its halls.
Many a plan, afterwards developed in the field or the senate, was first
conceived and matured in the baronial fastness of Arundel. One of the
dark yet dramatic scenes of which it has been the theatre, is the
conspiracy, in which the Earls of Arundel, Derby, Marshall, and Warwick;
the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Abbot of St. Alban’s and the Prior of
Westminster, met the Duke of Gloucester, for the final ratification of
the plot. After receiving the sacrament, says the Chronicle, they
solemnly engaged, each for himself, and for one another, to seize the
person of King Richard the Second; his brothers, the Dukes of Lancaster
and York; and, finally, to cause all the lords of the King’s Council to
be ignominiously put to death. This plot, however, was happily divulged
in time to defeat its execution; and Arundel was brought to the block on
the evidence of his son-in-law, Earl Marshall, then deputy-governor of
Calais.[46]

So great, says Caraccioli, “was the hereditary fame of Arundel Castle,
and so high its prerogative, that Queen Adeliza’s brother, Joceline of
Lorraine, though a lineal descendant of Charlemagne, felt himself
honoured in being nominated to the title of its Castellan.” From William
de Albini, Joceline received in gift Petworth, with its large demesne;
and on his marriage with Agness, heiress of the Percies, took the name
of Percy--and, hence, probably, the origin of “<g>Percy’s Hall</g>,” an
apartment which has existed from time immemorial in Arundel Castle.

Of <g>Isabel</g> de Albini, the widow of Earl Hugh, the following anecdote is
preserved:[47]--Having applied to the King for the wardship of a certain
person, which she claimed as her right, and failing in her suit, she
addressed him in these spirited words:--“Constituted and appointed by
God for the just government of your people, you neither govern yourself
nor your subjects as you ought to do. You have wronged the Church,
oppressed the nobles, and to myself, personally, have refused an act of
justice, by withholding the right to which I am entitled.” “And have the
Barons,” said the King, “formed a charter, and appointed you their
advocate, fair dame?” “No,” replied the Countess; “but the <g>King</g> has
violated the charter of liberties given them by his father, and which he
himself solemnly engaged to observe; he has infringed the sound
principles of faith and honour; and I, although a woman, yet with all
the freeborn spirit of this realm, do here appeal against you to the
tribunal of God. Heaven and earth bear witness how injuriously you have
dealt with us, and the avenger of perjury will assert the justice of our
cause.” Conscious that the charge, though boldly spoken, was the voice
of public opinion, and struck with admiration of her frank spirit, the
King, stifling resentment, merely rejoined, “Do you wish for my favour,
kinswoman?” “What have I to hope from your favour,” she replied, “when
you have refused me that which is my right? I appeal to Heaven against
these evil counsellors, who, for their own private ends, have seduced
their liege lord from the paths of justice and truth.”

We now take a short retrospect of the public services, patriotic
achievements, and traits of personal character, which have distinguished
the thirty-two lords of Arundel from the period of the Conquest down to
our own times. Of several of these, however, our notice must be
exceedingly brief.--Of Roger Montgomery and his family we have little to
add beyond what has appeared in Mr. Tierney’s elaborate History of
Arundel, to which we have so often referred in the preceding pages. Of
William de Albini, the fourth earl, the following historical incident is
recorded:--When at length, after

[Illustration]

much fruitless warfare, Henry Plantagenet appeared in England at the
head of the nobles who espoused his rights, Albini had the happiness to
achieve what may be justly considered greater than any victory; he
prevented the effusion of blood. Henry’s army was then at Wallingford,
where Stephen, at the head of his forces, was arranging the line of
battle. The armies were drawn out in sight of each other; Stephen,
attended by Albini, was reconnoitring the position of his opponent; when
his charger becoming unmanageable, threw his rider[48]. He was again
mounted; but a second and a third time a similar accident occurred,
which did not fail to act as a dispiriting omen upon the minds of those
who were witnesses of the occurrence. Taking advantage of the
superstitious dread thus excited among the troops, Albini represented in
emphatic terms to Stephen the weakness of his cause when opposed by
right and justice, and how little he could calculate upon men whose
resolution in his service had been already shaken by the incident which
had just occurred. His counsel was taken in good part; Stephen and
Henry, adds the historian, met in front of the two armies: an
explanation ensued, reconciliation was effected; and in the course of
the year a solemn treaty was ratified, by which Stephen adopted the
young Plantagenet as his successor to the throne. The most important
affair in which Albini’s service was called for, was the splendid
embassy to Rome, the object of which was to counteract the effect of
à-Becket’s personal representations at the papal court. That mission
failed in effecting the reconciliation intended, owing to the
intemperate language of the prelates who were associated with Albini in
the cause. His own speech, as recorded by Grafton, is characteristic of
good sense and moderation:--“Although to me it is unknown, saith the
Erle of Arundell, which am but unlettered and ignorant, what it is that
these bishoppes here have sayde, (their speeches being in latin,)
neyther am I in that tongue able to expresse my minde as they have done;
yet, beyng sent and charged thereunto of my prince, neyther can, nor
ought I but to declare, as well as I may, what the cause is of our
sendyng hether; not to contende or strive with any person, nor to offer
any iniury or harm unto any man, especially in this place, and in the
presence here of such a one unto whose becke and authoritye all the
worlde doth stoope and yelde. But for this intent in our Legacy hether
directed, to present here before You and in the presence of the whole
Church of Rome, the devocion and loue of our king and master, which ever
he hath had and yet hath still toward You. And that the same may the
better appere to yr. Excellencie, hee hath assigned and appointed to the
furniture of this Legacy, not the least, but the greatest; not the
worst, but the best and chiefest of all his subiects; both
archbishoppes, bishoppes, erles, barons, with other potentates mo, of
such worthinesse and parentage, that if he could have found greater in
all his realme he would have sent them both for the reverence of Your
Person and of the Holy Church of Rome,” &c.

But this oration, “although it was liked for the softnesse and
moderation thereof, yet it failed of its object; it could not perswade
the bishop of Rome to condescende to their sute and request, which was
to have two legates or arbiters to be sent from him into England, to
examine and to take up the controversie betwene the kinge and the
archbishoppe.”

Subsequently to this, Albini was sent on a more agreeable mission, that
of conducting the Princess Matilda into Germany, on the eve of her
marriage with Henry, Duke of Saxony; and five years later was selected
by the king as one of his “own trustees to the treaty of marriage
between his son Prince John, and the daughter of Hubert, Count of
Savoy.” Shortly afterwards he commanded the royal forces at Fornham in
Suffolk, and gained a complete victory over the rebellious sons of King
Henry--in whose unnatural cause the disaffected at home had been joined
by a numerous body of foreigners--and took prisoners the Earl of
Leicester, with his Countess and all his retinue of knights. Albini was
a great benefactor of the church; he built “the abbey of Buckenham;
endowed various prebends in Winchester; founded the priory of Pynham,
near Arundel; the chapel of St. Thomas at Wymundham,” and died at
Waverley in Surrey.

To Albini’s son and grandson we have already adverted, but conclude with
a brief incident in the life of William, the third earl of his family.

When the banner of the cross was waving under the walls of Damietta, and
the chivalry of Christendom flew to the rescue, the gallant Albini was
too keenly alive to the cause to resist the summons. In that severe

[Illustration]

struggle, he hoped to acquire those laurels which would leave all other
trophies in the shade; and with the flower of our English chivalry
embarked for the Holy Land, and served at the siege of that fortress.
Two years he remained a staunch supporter of the cross--a soldier whom
no dangers could dismay, no difficulties intimidate; and long after his
companions had returned to the white cliffs of Albion, the lion-standard
of Albini shone in the van of the Christian army. On his way home,
however, he had only strength to reach an obscure town in the
neighbourhood of Civita Vecchia, near Rome, where he was taken ill and
expired. His eldest son, the fourth earl, died without issue; and the
short life of his successor, Hugh de Albini, appears to have passed
without any remarkable event or incident, save latterly in active
warfare in France, where, at the battle of Taillebourg, in Guienne, he
displayed, though ineffectually, the hereditary valour of his family.

The first of the Fitzalans who held the title and estates of Arundel was
appointed one of the Lord Marchers, or Wardens of the Welsh Border; and
found to his cost that the Ancient Britons did not submit to the daily
encroachment made upon their rights and hereditary privileges, without
having frequent and formidable recourse to arms. He maintained a high
station at court, was admitted to the royal confidence, and had the
“command of the Castle of Rochester when the approach of the King’s
forces compelled the disaffected Barons to raise the siege.” At the
battle of Lewes he distinguished himself in the royal cause; but at the
close of that disastrous field--along with the two princes, Edward and
Henry--fell into the “hands of the victorious Barons.”

Of the battle of Lewes, we select the following graphic picture from
Grafton:--“Upon Wednesday the 23rd of May, early in the morning, both
the hostes met; where, after the Londoners had given the first assault,
they were beaten back, so that they began to drawe from the sharpe shot
and strokes, to the discomfort of the Barons’ hoste. But the Barons
encouraged and comforted their men in such wise, that not all onely, the
freshe and lustye knights fought eagerly, but also such as before were
discomfited, gathered a newe courage unto them, and fought without
feare, in so much that the King’s vaward lost their places. Then was the
field covered with dead bodyes, and gasping and groning was heard on
every syde; for eyther of them was desyrous to bring others out of lyfe.
And the father spared not the sonne, neyther yet the sonne spared the
father! Alliaunce at that time was bound to defiaunce, and Christian
bloud that day was shed without pittie. Lastly the victory fell to the
Barons; so that there was taken the King, and the King of Romaynes, Sir
Edward the King’s sonne, with many other noblemen,” among whom was
Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, “to the number of fifteen barons and
banerets; and of the common people, that were slain, about twenty
thousand, as saith Fabian.”

This was Fitzalan’s last appearance in the field; and, as a security for
his good behaviour, he was required “to surrender the Castle of Arundel
or deliver his son as a hostage,” into the hands of the Earl of
Leicester. “For their safe keeping, the prisoners were sente unto
dyverse castellis and prysons, except the King, his brother the King of
Almayne, and Sir Edwarde his sonne; the which the barons helde with them
vntill they came to London.”

RICHARD the third earl takes an eminent station in the family history.
He first travelled in France and Italy, in compliance with the rules of
his order[49]; then served in Wales, performed several exploits against
Madoc; became distinguished among the chivalry of his day; held a
command in the expedition organised for the subjugation of Scotland;
fought at Falkirk; and subsequently took part at the siege of
Caerlaverock Castle, where in the language of the minstrel, “who
witnessed the fray,” he is complimented as--

    “Richard le Conte de Aroundel,
     Beau chivalier, et bien aimé,
     I vi je richement armé;
     En rouge au lyon rampart de or--[50]”

and in various capacities appears to have done the state much acceptable
service.

[Sidenote: 1306. {]

During the life of EDMUND, the fourth Earl, the affairs of Scotland
assumed a threatening aspect; and the King, exasperated by the murder of
Comyn, resolved to march an army across the frontier. Great preparations
were made to render the expedition, in all respects, worthy of the grand
object in view. The royal armies were ordered from their cantonments,
and hastened into the field under the command of Aymer de Valence, Earl
of Pembroke.

In preparation for the expedition, “proclamation was made, that a grand
national fete would solemnise the movement; that the Prince of Wales

[Illustration]

would be knighted on the Feast of Pentecost; and all the young nobility
of the kingdom were summoned to appear at Westminster to receive that
honour along with him. On the eve of the appointed day (the 22nd of
May) 270 noble youths, with their pages and retinues, assembled in the
Gardens of the Temple, in which the trees were cut down that they might
pitch their tents; they watched their arms all night, according to the
usage of chivalry; the prince, and some of those of highest rank, in the
Abbey of Westminster; the others in the Temple Church. On the morrow,
Prince Edward was knighted by his father in the Hall of the Palace, and
then proceeding to the Abbey, conferred the like honour on his
companions. A magnificent feast followed, at which two swans covered
with nets of gold being set on the table by the minstrels, the King
rose, and made a solemn vow to God and to the swans, that he would
avenge the death of Comyn and punish the perfidy of the Scottish rebels.
Then, addressing his son and the rest of the company, he conjured them,
in the event of his death, to keep his body unburied until his successor
should have accomplished this vow. The next morning the prince, with his
companions, departed for the Borders; Edward himself followed by slow
journeys, being only able to travel in a litter.”

Such was the bright morning of Edmund Fitzalan’s life; and the annexed
gives us the dark contrast in his tragical end.

[Sidenote: 1326. {]

The citizens, says Froissart, seeing they had no other means of saving
the town, their lives, and their fortunes, acceded to the Queen’s terms,
and opened their gates to her. She entered the town attended by Sir John
de Hainault, with all her barons, knights, and esquires, who took their
lodging therein. The others, for want of accommodation, remained
without. Sir Hugh Spencer and the Earl of Arundel were then delivered to
the Queen to do with them according to her good pleasure. The Queen then
ordered the elder Spencer and Arundel to be brought before her eldest
son and the barons assembled, and said that she and her son would see
that Justice should be done unto them according to their deeds. “Ah,
madam,” said Spencer, “God grant us an upright judge and a just
sentence; and that if we cannot find it in this world, we may find it in
another.” The charges against them being read, an old knight was called
upon to pass sentence; and her son, with the other barons and knights,
pronounced the prisoners guilty. Their sentence was, that they, the said
Earl of Arundel and Spencer, should be drawn in a hurdle to the place of
execution, there to be beheaded, and afterwards to be hung on a gibbet.
“The which was duly carried into effect on the feast of St, Denis,” at
Bristol--or, according to others, at Hereford.

RICHARD, the son and successor of Edmund, became highly distinguished
among the great men of his time. His life and exploits make no
inconsiderable figure in the national annals.

When a fleet of cruisers, sent out by the French for the annoyance of
British commerce in the Channel, had made prizes of many of our best
merchant ships, pillaged several towns on the coast, and caused much
consternation to all who were interested in the prosperity of commerce,
Arundel

[Illustration]

hoisted his flag on board the “Admiral,” and put to sea. Another fleet
was ordered to co-operate with him in the eastern coast; the first
cruise checked the audacity of the enemy, and re-established public
confidence and good order.

[Sidenote: 1340. {]

His next public service was off the harbour of Sluys, where, in an
engagement with the French fleet, he was second in command under King
Edward the Third, and gained a complete victory.

“When the king’s fleet,” says the chronicler, “was almost got to Sluys,
they saw so many masts standing before it, that they looked like a wood.
The king asked the commander of his ship what they could be, who
answered that he imagined they must be that armament of Normans which
the King of France kept at sea, and which had so frequently done him
much damage, had burnt the good town of Southampton, and taken his large
ship the ‘Christopher.’ The king replied, I have for a long time wished
to meet with them, and now, please God and St. George, we will fight
with them; for in truth they have done me so much mischief, that I will
be revenged upon them if possible.”

The large ships under Lord Arundel, the bishop of Norwich, and others,
now advanced, adds Froissart, and ran in among those of Flanders: but
they had not any advantage; for the crossbow-men defended themselves
gallantly under their commander Sir John de Bucque. He and his company
were well armed in a ship equal in bulk to any they might meet, and had
their cannons on board, which were of such a weight, that great mischief
was done by them. This battle was very fierce and obstinate, for it
continued three or four hours; and many of the vessels were sunk by the
“large and sharply-pointed bolts of iron which were cast down from the
maintops, and made large holes in their decks.” When night came on, they
separated, and cast anchor to repair their damage and take care of the
wounded. But at the next flow of the tide, they again set sail and
renewed the combat; yet the English continually gained on the Flemings,
and, having got between them and Blanquenberg and Sluys, drove them on
Cadsand, where the defeat was completed.

So great was the disaster to the French monarch on this day, that none
of his ministers would venture to communicate to him the amount of life
and property which had been sacrificed. What the minister, however,
durst not reveal, the king’s jester found means to divulge. “What arrant
cowards are those English!” said the jester. “How so?” demanded Philip.
“Because,” answered zany, “they had not courage to jump overboard, as
the French and Normans did lately at Sluys[51].” This opened the king’s
eyes, and prepared him for the disastrous tidings that were now poured
in upon him.

Six years later, Arundel was appointed admiral of the king’s fleet, and
conveyed the great military expedition from Southampton to Normandy.
When the troops were disembarked at La Hogue, he was created constable
of the forces; and with Northampton and other noblemen commanded the
second division at the battle of Cressy[52].

During the heat of the combat, when Prince Edward was surrounded by the
enemy and in personal jeopardy, Arundel and Northampton hastened to his
support; ordered their division forward, and closed with the enemy. The
English rushed upon their assailants with renewed ardour; the French
line was charged, broken, and dispersed; “earls, knights, squires, and
men-at-arms, continuing the struggle in confused masses, were mingled in
one promiscuous slaughter.” When night closed, King Philip, with a
retinue of only five barons and sixty knights, fled in dismay before the
cry of “St. George for England!” Eleven princes, twelve hundred
knights, and thirty thousand soldiers, had fallen on the side of the
French.

On another occasion, but on a different element, Arundel was present
with the king, in his “chivalrous engagement with the French fleet, off
Winchelsea;” and four years later was deputed to the court of Pope
Innocent, then at Avignon, in the fruitless attempt to arrange the
articles of a permanent reconciliation between the Crowns of England and
France.

Arundel survived these brilliant events many years; and during the
leisure secured to him by his great public services, appears to have
found occupation for his active mind and munificent taste in repairing
and embellishing his ancestral[53] Castle, where he died at an advanced
age, and bequeathed immense possessions to his family.

The contrast presented in the life and destinies of his son forms a
melancholy page in the family history. He was a brave man, and had
performed several gallant exploits. But it was his misfortune to fall
upon evil times, of which intrigue, disaffection, private revenge, and
outward violence were leading characteristics. Associating with the
turbulent spirits who surrounded an imbecile and capricious monarch, his
character took the complexion of the age.

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: 1397. {]

He is said to have been at the head of a conspiracy already mentioned in
this work, page 39, and which is thus recorded by Holinshed, Grafton,
and others of the old chroniclers[54]. The Earls of Arundel, Derby,
Marshal, and Warwick; the Archbishop of Canterbury, Arundel’s brother;
the Abbot of St. Alban’s, and the Prior of Westminster, met the Duke of
Gloucester[55] in Arundel Castle, where, receiving first the sacrament
by the hands of the Archbishop, they resolved to seize the person of
King Richard the Second, and his brothers the Dukes of Lancaster and
York, to commit them to prison, and cause the lords of the King’s
Council to be drawn and hanged. This plot, however, was divulged, it is
said, by the Earl Marshal, and the apprehension of Arundel led to the
family catastrophe, which with some little abridgment of the original
authors is related as follows:--

Apprehended under assurances of personal security, he was hurried to the
Tower, and finally tried and condemned by the Parliament at Westminster.

On the feast of St. Matthew, Richard Fitz Alaine, Earl of Arundel, was
brought forth to swear before the King and whole Parliament to such
articles as he was charged with.[56] And as he stood at the bar, the
Lord Neville was commanded by the Duke of Lancaster, which sat that day
as High Steward of England, to take the hood from his neck, and the
girdle from his waist. Then the Duke of Lancaster declared unto him that
for his manifold rebellions and treasons against the king’s majesty, he
had been arrested, and hitherto kept in ward, and now at the petitions
of the lords and commons, he was called to answer such crimes as were
there to be objected against him, and so to purge himself, or else to
suffer for his offences, such punishment as the law appointed.

First he charged him that he had ridden in armour against the King in
company of the Duke of Gloucester, and of the Earl of Warwick, to the
breach of peace and disquieting of the realm.

His answer hereunto was, that he did not this upon any evil meaning
towards the King’s person, but rather for the benefit of the King and
realm, if it were interpreted aright and taken as it ought to be.

It was further demanded of him, why he procured letters of pardon from
the King, if he knew himself guiltless. He answered he did not purchase
them for any fear he had of faults committed by him, but to stay the
malicious speech of them that neither loved the King nor him.

He was again asked whether he would deny that he had made any such rade
with the persons before named, and that in company of them he entered
not armed unto the King’s presence against the King’s will and pleasure.
To this he answered he could not deny it, but that he so did.

Then the speaker, Sir John Bushie, with open mouth besought that
judgment might be had against such a traitor; and “your faithful
commons,” said he to the King, “ask and require that so it may be done.”
The Earl, turning his head aside, quietly said to him, “Not the King’s
faithful commons” require this, “but thou, and what thou art I know.”
Then the eight appellants standing on the other side, cast their gloves
at him, and in prosecuting their appeal--which already had been
read--offered to fight with him, man to man, to justify the same.
“Then,” said the Earl, “if I were at libertie, and that it might so
stande with the pleasure of my sovereign, I would not refuse to prove
you all liars in this behalfe.”

Then spake the Duke of Lancaster, saying to him, “What have you further
to say to the points laid before you?” He answered, that of the King’s
grace he had his letters of general pardon, which he required to have
allowed. Then the duke told him that the pardon was revoked by the
prelates and noblemen in Parliament; and therefore willed him to make
some other answer.

The Earl told him again that he had another pardon under the King’s
great seal, granted him long after the King’s own motion, which also he
required to have allowed. The Duke told him that the same was likewise
revoked. After this, when the Earl had nothing more to say for himself,
the Duke pronounced judgment against him as in cases of treason is used.

But after he had made an end, and paused a little, he said, “The King
our sovereign lord of his mercy and grace, because thou art of his
blood, and one of the Peers of the realm, hath remitted all other pains,
saving the last that is to say, the beheading, and so thou shalt only
lose thy head;”--and forthwith he was had away, and led through London,
unto the Tower-hill. There went with him to see the execution done, six
great lords, of whom there were three earls, Nottingham, that had
married his daughter; Kent, that was his daughter’s son; and Huntington,
being mounted on great horses, with a great company of armed men, and
the fierce bands of the Cheshiremen, furnished with axes, swords, bows
and arrows, marching before and behind him, who only in this parliament
had licence to bear weapon, as some have written. When he should depart
the palace, he desired that his hands might be loosed to dispose of such
money as he had in his purse, betwixt that place and Charing Cross. This
was permitted; and so he gave such money as he had in alms with his own
hands, but his arms were still bound behind him.

When he came to the Tower-hill, the noblemen that were about him moved
him right earnestly to acknowledge his treason against the king. But he
in no wise would do so; but maintained that he was never traitor in word
nor deed; and herewith perceiving the Earls of Nottingham and Kent, that
stood by with other noblemen, busy to further the execution, and being,
as ye have heard, of kin, and allied to him, he spake to them, and said,
“Truly it would have beseemed you rather to have been absent, than here
at this business. But the time will come ere it be long, when as many
shall marvel at your misfortune as do now at mine.” After this,
forgiving the executioner, he besought him not to torment him long, but
to strike off his head at one blow, and feeling the edge of the sword,
whether it was sharp enough or not, he said, “It is very well, do that
thou hast to do quickly,”--and so kneeling down, the executioner with
one stroke, strake off his head. “Then returned they that were at the
execution and shewed the kinge merily of the death of the erle; but
although the kinge was then merry and glad that the dede was done, yet
after exceedingly vexed was he in his dremes.” The Earl’s body was
buried, together with his head, in the church of the Augustine Friars in
Bread-street, within the city of London.

The death of this earl[57] was much lamented among the people,
considering his sudden fall and miserable end, whereas, not long before
among all the noblemen of this land, there was none more esteemed; so
noble and valiant he was that all men spake honour of him.

After his death, as the fame went, the king was sore vexed in his sleep
with horrible dreams, imagining that he saw this earl appear unto him,
threatening him, and putting him in horrible fear, as if he had said
with the poet to King Richard--

    “Nunc quoque factorum venio memor umbra tuorum,
     In sequor et vultus ossea forma tuos.”--

With which visions being sore troubled in sleep, he cursed the day that
ever he knew the earl. And he was the more unquiet, because he heard it
reported that the common people took the earl for a martyr, insomuch
that some came to visit the place of his sepulture, for the opinion they
had conceived of his holiness. And, when it was bruited abroad, as for a
miracle, that his head should be grown to his body again, the tenth day
after his burial; the king sent about ten of the clock in the night
certain of the nobility to see his body taken up, that he might be
certified of the truth. Which done, and perceiving it was a fable, he
commanded the friars to take down his arms, that were set up about the
place of his burial, and to cover the grave, so as it should not be
perceived where he was buried.

[Illustration]

In less than two years, however, King Richard himself was a captive in
the hands of his subjects. Young Arundel and the son of the late Duke of
Gloucester were appointed his keepers. “Here,” said Lancaster, as he
delivered[58] Richard into their custody[59], “here is the king; he was
the murderer of your fathers; I expect you to be answerable for his
safety.”

During the first five years of Henry the Fourth, young Arundel, among
other services, shared with his sovereign the reverses which attended
his invasion of the Welsh frontier, and his campaign against Owen
Glendower.--But at length the scenes of the camp gave place to domestic
festivities; and his approaching marriage with Donna Béatrice, daughter
of John the First, king of Portugal, was publicly announced. Great
preparations were made to receive the bride with all the honours due to
her beauty and station; the royal palace and the earl’s ancestral castle
were sumptuously fitted up for her reception. She left Portugal with a
splendid retinue, made a prosperous voyage, and arrived in London in the
middle of November. On the twenty-sixth of the same month the solemnity
took place in the Royal Chapel, where, in the presence of the King and
Queen, Donna Béatrice gave her hand to the young Earl of Arundel.

Their subsequent arrival at Arundel, and the rejoicings which there met
the royal bride, may be better imagined than described. All that could
add to the splendour of the gala was ingeniously arranged and displayed;
and on her triumphant entry under the old Norman gateway of her
husband’s castle, Donna Béatrice might well confess that “the castled
heights of Algarva were not so beautiful as the verdant hills, and
embattled towers, of Arundel.”

Among the personal exploits by which his brief career was subsequently
distinguished, is the following.--During the excitement which prevailed
in France in consequence of the murder of the Duke of Orleans, “the
author of that assassination, Charles Duke of Burgundy, now taking the
alarm, applied to the English monarch for assistance.” His request was
instantly complied with; for Henry had “private motives which prompted
him in this instance.”

[Sidenote: 1411. {]

Arundel, at the head of a strong body of archers and men-at-arms, was
despatched to join the Burgundian leader, whom he met at Arras; and
thence directing their march upon the capital, arrived on the
twenty-third of October. The first point of attack was St. Cloud, where
Arundel took charge of the assault, and marching his men to the bridge
which here crosses the Seine, carried it by storm; took possession of
the town with severe loss to the enemy, and returned with numerous
prisoners, immense booty, and the thanks of the Burgundian chief.

The same Earl was also present at the siege of Harfleur, in the
subsequent reign; and under both sovereigns held many distinguished
posts of high trust and honour. But returning from the last campaign in
ill health, he died at his paternal seat of Arundel, where a magnificent
monument, quartered with the royal arms of Portugal, attests his virtues
and patriotic services.

Of John Fitzalan, the eighth Earl, the public services and achievements,
“during the French wars,” are not sufficiently prominent to demand any
special notice in these pages; but John Fitzalan, the ninth Earl, is
justly celebrated for his abilities both as a soldier and a senator.

In the grand tournament[60] which took place in the French capital in
honour of the coronation of Henry the Fifth, the English monarch, there
was a brilliant display of all that was most dazzling to the eye, and
daring to the imagination. But at the close of the scenes in which the
pride and prowess of chivalry were never more strikingly exemplified,
Arundel[61] and the Comte de St. Pol, grand master of the household,
were acknowledged to have carried away the prize from every
competitor[62].

Four years later, an event occurred which was destined to close his
military career and carry him off in “the blaze of his fame.” This
happened in an attack upon the old castle of Gerberoi, near Beauvais,
during the operations of the English army in Picardy.

[Illustration]

Leaving Gournay at midnight, the Earl arrived in eight hours with the
advanced guard in sight of the towers of Gerberoi. But in his impatience
to reduce the fortress, he had miscalculated the strength of its walls
and garrison, with the experience of its veteran commandant La Hire, and
his own diminutive force. “The enemy,” says Holinshed, “perceiving that
his horses were weary and his archers not yet come up, determined to set
upon him before the arrival of his footmen, which they knew to be a mile
behind.” As soon as he came in sight the gates were suddenly thrown
open, and three thousand troops rushing upon the handful of men under
his command, threw them into confusion. An unequal conflict
ensued--struck with panic, and pressed by an overwhelming majority, the
rout of the English became general. Arundel, with a few undaunted
followers, who had sworn to share his glory or his grave, took up his
position in “a little close” or corner of a field, where his rear was
under cover of a strong hedge, threw up a hasty fortification of pointed
stakes, and thus protected, kept the enemy at bay. But other and more
powerful means of annoyance were at hand. La Hire ordered three
culverins to be brought from the castle, and planted in front of the
“forlorn hope.” The first shot told sadly upon the members of this
intrepid band; but in the presence of their chief, nothing could damp
their fortitude, nothing could paralyse their exertions. The first
discharge was received with a shout of triumph and defiance. But the
third striking Arundel in the knee, shattered the bone and threw him to
the ground. This shot was the loss of the day. The French commander,
seizing the favourable moment, rushed upon the entrenchment--and while
Arundel, though faint with loss of blood and racked with pain, still
continued to cheer on his men--effected a breach and took captive the
gallant earl and his companions.

Arundel survived the disaster for some time, but died at last of his
wound, and was buried in the church of the Grey Friars--the Frères
Mineurs--of Beauvais.

In the collegiate church of Arundel, where he had previously selected
his own place of interment, a cenotaph of beautiful design and elaborate
workmanship still marks the spot; but, owing to some unknown cause, as
Mr. Tierney informs us, “his executor neglected this last injunction;”
and the soldier was not permitted to find rest in the sepulchre of his
fathers.

[Sidenote: 1304. {]

Humphrey, his son, became heir to his titles and estates; but, not
surviving his father more than three years, they again passed to his
uncle, William Fitzalan, then in his twenty-first year. The events of
his life, however, are not of a character to interest the reader by any
bright displays of moral excellence, which could be handed down as
examples to posterity.

    “Obsequious--veering round with every change,
      Now to the liege professing homage fervent;
     Then as the sceptre dropp’d, could it seem strange
      That faction found him its most humble servant!”

Yet with all his political faults, there was much in his private life
and conversation--much in his munificence to the church--and still more
in his encouragement of learning, to rescue his name from oblivion. He
died at Arundel, and was buried with his ancestors in the Chapel, where
a splendid altar-tomb attests his love and patronage of the fine arts.

In the preface to Caxton’s Golden Legende, honourable mention is made of
the puissant, “noble and vertuous lorde, Willyam, Erle of Arundelle.”
Dallaway quoting Vincent says--“William Earle of Arundell, a very father
of nurture and courtesy, died at a great age at Arundell, and there
triumphantly lieth buried.”

His successor, Thomas Fitzalan, was a man whose address and
accomplishments found ready acceptance at court, and secured the
good-will and approbation of more than one sovereign.

[Sidenote: 1543. {]

Henry Fitzalan, on succeeding his father this year, returned from Calais
to England, and at Arundel kept the Christmas festivities in such style
with his neighbours, that it is known, says the MS. Life quoted by Mr.
Dallaway, as “the great Xmas of Arundel.”

[Sidenote: 1544. {]

At the siege of Boulogne, in the following year, he was nominated by
King Henry as marshal of the field. The siege on this occasion proved
tedious; the town and garrison were resolute in their defence, and day
after day the besiegers were baffled in their efforts to force them to a
capitulation. At last, however, a mine, which had been successfully
worked beneath the castle, was sprung at midnight; the explosion shook
the whole citadel, and

[Illustration]

general confusion ensued. Seizing the favourable moment, Arundel ordered
the battering ordnance to play with redoubled fury upon the walls; and
heading at the same time a resolute detachment, took his station in the
entrenchments. There, while the shot and shell struck and exploded in
the ramparts over his head, he waited till a breach in the masonry was
effected; and then throwing himself into the gap, cheered on his men to
the assault. Inspired by their leader’s example, every soldier did his
duty; the besieged were driven from the works; their guns were turned
against themselves, the ramparts were cleared; capitulation was
effected, and before morning the flag of England floated in triumph from
the Castle of Boulogne.[63]

But neither prowess in the field nor wisdom in the cabinet could exempt
Arundel from the trials, calumnies, and persecutions of those who only
saw, in the royal favour extended to him, a grand obstacle to their own
advancement. After the demise of Henry, charges were accordingly brought
against him, which--although never proved--formed the ground of his
exclusion from the council, were attended with a heavy fine, and
aggravated by imprisonment. The false evidence, however, on which these
penalties were inflicted, being speedily detected, his confinement was
very brief. A large portion of the fine was remitted, but the
remembrance of such unmerited treatment was never to be effaced.
Subsequently, on the exhibition of further charges against him, he was
again sent to the Tower, where he was detained a close prisoner during
thirteen months, and was then enlarged on payment of a heavy fine, and
admonished to “behave himself according to the duty of a nobleman, and
to prove in deeds what he professed in words.”

But events were now fast hastening to a crisis. The demise of the royal
minor, the elevation of Lady Jane Grey, the ebullitions of party
violence--all spread universal excitement and alarm throughout the
country.

Arundel, who had long fostered a spirit of secret enmity and revenge
against Northumberland, as the author of his misfortunes, now perceived
that the moment of retaliation was at hand. He invited and promised the
full weight of his support to the Princess Mary in private; but in
public he zealously espoused the cause of her rival, the Lady Jane; and
was among the first who offered her homage, and swelled the magnificence
of her entry into London.

[Sidenote: 1544. {]

Northumberland was blinded by so much apparent devotion to the cause;
and when he reluctantly quitted London to stem the torrent that was now
rapidly setting in from the east, Arundel, says Stow, took leave of him
in these specious and hollow terms: “Farewell, my lord; and I pray God
be with your grace. Sorry indeed am I, that it is not my chance to go
with you, and bear you company, in whose presence I could find in my
heart to shed my blood, even at your feet.” But as soon as
Northumberland was gone, Arundel changed his tone; denounced him as a
traitor; declared his sentiments; and boldly asserted the sovereign
right of the eldest daughter of Henry the Eighth. His fervid eloquence
and appeal to the nobles present made a deep and visible impression.
Pembroke[64], infected by the enthusiasm of the speaker, starting up,
and grasping the hilt of his sword, exclaimed, “Either this sword shall
make Mary queen, or I will die in her quarrel!” The result needs not be
told. In an instant the whole aspect of affairs was changed. That very
night Mary was proclaimed in every street of the city--banquets,
bonfires, riots, and illuminations, were called to attest the fact.

The news of the revolution were scattered in all points of the compass,
and at Cambridge reached the Duke of Northumberland, who was astounded
at what had happened, and felt all the paralysing influence of his
critical position.

When Arundel, whose revenge was now secure, arrived with the warrant for
his apprehension, the duke threw himself upon his mercy, and implored
him, says the Chronicler, “to be good to him for the love of God!” But
Arundel coldly replied that his grace should have sought for mercy
sooner, and then committing him to safe custody, ordered him off to the
Tower.

During the reign of Mary, Arundel had many honours heaped upon him, and
filled several important offices of state; nor did court favour desert
him on the accession of Elizabeth, who even made him her familiar
companion, and became his frequent guest. She visited him at her
splendid palace of Nonsuch, of which he was keeper; joined in all the
revels in celebration of her visit; accepted at her departure a
“cupboard of plate” and repaid him with assurances of cordial regard and
unlimited confidence.

Flattered by such manifestations of royal favour, Arundel went so far in
his loyal attachment as to become one of her Majesty’s impassioned
suitors. He was a Catholic indeed, but love and loyalty were divinities
to which religion had been often known to bend; and having given his
vote and influence to all her state measures--and not weighing the
“queen’s sincerity by his own”--he looked forward with bright
anticipations of the future. But Elizabeth was as much an adept in
manœuvring as the earl; her chief object had now been accomplished; she
no longer required his services--she remembered his support of her
sister Mary; and when Arundel ventured to address her as the royal Chloë
of his admiration, the queen threw off the mask, and instead of
receiving the homage thus tendered, in the sense it was meant, ordered
the noble earl to be placed under arrest. Well might he exclaim--

    “Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ?”

The arrest however was soon removed; and with his enlargement a more
rational course presented itself for his choice. His health requiring
change of climate, he went abroad; and after spending fourteen months in
travel beyond seas, he returned to London in a style that resembled the
triumphant progress of a sovereign, and to present, as a peace-offering
to her Majesty, “a pair of the first silk stockings[65] ever seen in
England.”

Once more restored to favour, he did not long maintain his position; but
again lapsing into unlawful practices, by tampering in the question
respecting Mary, Queen of Scotland, and the Duke of Norfolk, his
son-in-law; he finally lost the queen’s countenance, and was recommitted
as a prisoner to the palace of Nonsuch. The dreams of ambition were now
past. On his liberation, he retired from the political world to spend
the remainder of his days in study and domestic seclusion, where he
could moralise on the mad projects of ambition, the vexations and
vanities of court life.

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: 1589. {]

He died at Arundel House in the Strand, and was buried “with solemn pomp
and costly funerall” in the collegiate Chapel of Arundel, where his
monument is still an object of no common interest to the stranger.

We shall next, in accordance with our plan, proceed to notice such
passages in the history of the HOWARDS, Earls of Arundel, as may best
exhibit some of the public services, the extraordinary events, or
striking incidents in which they have severally been engaged. In these
sketches, however, we purpose to exemplify the character of each by
authentic traits of conduct in the field and the cabinet; in the noon of
fame, and in the night of misfortune.

In a review of their history and achievements, however, our notice,
strictly speaking, ought to commence at that period when the titles of
Arundel and Norfolk became first united in the same Peer. But the task
will not be tedious, and cannot be uninteresting, to present our readers
with a genealogical epitome of the Howards of Norfolk.

[Sidenote:

1298. {
1307. {
]

[Sidenote: 1483. {]

The origin of this family is involved in obscurity, which the diligence
of research appears to have rendered more obscure, making darkness
visible. For antiquity’s sake, however, it is sufficient to state that
the name was of some distinction in the 13th century; and that the
ancestor of the present family, John Howard of Wigen Hall, in Norfolk,
was a Judge of Common Pleas, summoned to Parliament by Edward the First,
and distinguished for his talents and public services. Sir Robert
Howard, the fifth in regular descent, had the good fortune to contract a
marriage alliance with the second daughter of Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
and his Duchess Elizabeth, sister and co-heir of Thomas Fitzalan, Earl
of Arundel. By her father’s side, the noble bride was a grand-daughter
of Margaret Plantagenet, whose father--Thomas de Brotherton--was the
fifth son of Edward the First. This alliance, by connecting Sir Robert
and his descendants with the blood royal of England, opened a path to
those splendid honours by which they were subsequently distinguished.
Sir John Howard, his immediate descendant, was promoted during the reign
of three successive sovereigns to many high posts of trust and dignity;
and at last summoned to Parliament by the title of Baron Howard.
Thirteen years later he was elevated to the highest title in the
peerage; his son was created Earl of Surrey, by Richard the Third; he
was invested with the hereditary office of Earl Marshal of England;
dignities which his ancestors Mowbray, Thomas de Brotherton, and Roger
Bigod, had severally enjoyed as Dukes of Norfolk. But the high honours
thus showered upon him, were doomed very shortly after to be blasted.
The battle of Bosworth was at hand; he had “touched the highest point of
all his greatness,” and whilst--

    He bore his blushing honours thick upon him,
    The third day came a frost, a killing frost.

The following letter, written only a very few days previous to the
battle, and addressed to the Sheriff of Norfolk, is a document of no
inconsiderable interest:--“To my well-beloved Friend John Paston, be
this bill delivered in haste.--Well beloved Friend, I commend me to you,
letting you to understand that the King’s enemies be a-land, and that
the King would have set forth as upon Monday, but only for our Lady-day;
but for certain he goeth forth as upon Tuesday, for a servant of mine
hath brought to me the certainty. Whereupon I pray you that ye meet
with me at Bury, as upon Tuesday night, and that ye bring with you such
company of _tall men_, as ye may goodly make at my cost and charge;
beside that which ye have promised the King; and I pray you, ordain them
_jackets of my livery_, and I shall content you at your meeting with
me--Your lover, J. NORFOLK.”--Green.

One of the most important days in the annals of Great Britain was now at
hand. The royal family was nearly extinct; the nobility was sadly
diminished and cut off; the nation itself was thinned of its best and
bravest inhabitants--the sad results of twelve sanguinary engagements;
and again two formidable armies had taken the field under two of the
ablest politicians that ever hoisted the standard of ambition or
revenge.

On this memorable day King Richard’s front was commanded by the subjects
of this notice, John Duke of Norfolk, and his son, the Earl of Surrey;
the second by Richard in person; and the right wing by Henry, Earl of
Northumberland. Richmond’s front, being very inferior in numbers to that
of his rival, was thinly extended over a wide surface, so as to present
a more formidable appearance, and was commanded by John de Vere, Earl of
Oxford, whose father and brother had both perished on the scaffold in
support of the house of Lancaster. De Vere was also first-cousin to
Norfolk, whose blood he was destined to shed on this disastrous field.
The other divisions of Richmond’s army were led by Sir John Savage, and
Sir Gilbert Talbot; while Richmond himself took up a conspicuous station
in the field under his uncle the Earl of Pembroke.

After a night of fearful preparation, Norfolk, in issuing forth early in
the morning, discovered the following rhyme rudely pencilled on the door
of his tent--sadly ominous of the event at hand--

    “Jack of Norfolk, be not too bold,
     For Dickon, thy master, is bought and sold[66].”

The battle, now set in array, commenced with a discharge of arrows;
after which, the Earl of Oxford, in order to concentrate his forces,
issued a command, that every man should fight close to his standard. In
this movement, Norfolk and Oxford, leading their respective vans,
approached each other. With a rancour sharpened at this moment by their
very relationship, each singled out the other as an object worthy of his
lance. With cool determined intrepidity they dashed forward to the
rencontre; and shivering their spears at the first thrust, drew their
swords and resumed the trial of strength and skill. Rushing in upon his
antagonist’s guard, Norfolk’s powerful arm made a sweeping blow at the
head of De Vere; but the blade glancing down from his polished helmet
failed in its effect, and only wounded him in the left arm.

[Illustration]

Quickly recovering his balance, and exasperated by the dread of
discomfiture more than the pain of his wound, Oxford returned the blow
with tremendous effect; hewed the visor from Norfolk’s helmet, and
thereby exposed his face to the missiles that were falling in showers
around them. Oxford, like a generous knight, disdaining to take
advantage of his gallant adversary, instantly dropped the point of his
weapon. But his forbearance did not save his noble kinsman; for, at the
same instant, struck in the forehead by a shaft which penetrated the
brain, Norfolk made a convulsive spring in the saddle, and fell
prostrate on the field. Oxford, deeply affected by his death, sadly
exclaimed--“A better knight cannot die, though he might in a better
cause!”

The result of this day needs not to be told; but the anecdote of the
young Surrey, embarked in the same cause, and in fulfilment of the same
oath of fidelity which bound his father to the standard of King Richard,
is worth repeating in this place.

During the heat of the battle, conscious of his father’s fall, and
exhausted by extraordinary exertions of mind and body, he was surrounded
by a powerful body of his antagonists, each of whom was ambitious to
distinguish himself by disabling or making him prisoner. Observing at
this moment the brave Sir John Stanley in the last charge, Surrey
presented to him the hilt of his sword, and said, “The day is your own,
there is my sword; let me die by yours--but not by an ignoble hand!”
“God forbid,” replied the generous Stanley--“live for new honours.
Stanley will never shed the blood of so brave a youth. No fault attaches
to you! the error was your father’s!” “What!” rejoined Surrey, again
recovering his sword; “does the noble Talbot insult the vanquished?
Loyalty, Sir Knight, is the watchword of our house. My father revered
the sacred authority of the king, though he lamented the errors of the
man. Never shall I repent the choice I have made, seeing that it can
leave no stain upon my honour. Whoever wears the crown, him will I fight
for; nay, were it placed on nothing better than a stake in that hedge, I
would draw my sword in its defence.”

The same frank and gallant bearing in the presence of Richmond after the
battle, secured for young Surrey the royal confidence.

The scene is thus described by Sir John Beaumont, in his “Bosworth
Field.”

    Courageous TALBOT had with SURREY met;
    And after many blows, began to fret,
    That one so young in arms should thus unmoved
    Resist his strength, so oft in war approved.
    And now the Earl beholds his father’s fall,
    Whose death like horrid darkness frighted all;
    Some give themselves as captives, others fly;
    But this young lion casts his generous eye
    On MOWBRAY’S lion, painted on his shield,
    And with that king of beasts repines to yield.
    “The field,” saith he, “in which the lion stands,
    Is blood, and blood I offer to the hands
    Of daring foes; but never shall my flight
    Dye black my lion, which, as yet, is white.”
    His enemies, like cunning huntsmen, strive
    In binding snares to take their prey alive,
    While he desires to expose his naked breast,
    And thinks the sword that deepest strikes is best.
    Young HOWARD single with an army fights;
    When, moved with pity, two renowned knights,
    Strong Clarendon, and valiant Conyers, try
    To rescue him--in which attempt they die.
    Now SURREY, fainting, scarce his sword can hold;
    Which made a common soldier grow so bold,
    To lay rude hands upon that noble flower,
    Which he disdaining--anger gives him power--
    Erects his weapon with a nimble round,
    And sends the peasant’s arm to kiss the ground.
    This done, to TALBOT he presents his blade,
    And saith, “It is not hope of life hath made
    This my submission; but my strength is spent,
    And some perhaps of villain blood will vent

[Illustration]

    My weary soul; this favour I demand,
    That I may die by your victorious hand.”
    “Nay, God forbid that any of my name,”
    Quoth TALBOT, “should put out so bright a flame
    As burns in thee, brave youth! where thou hast err’d
    It was thy father’s fault, since he preferr’d
    A tyrant’s crown before the juster side.”
    The Earl, still mindful of his birth, replied,
    “I wonder, TALBOT, that thy noble heart
    Insults on ruins of the vanquish’d part:
    We had the right; if now to _you_ it flow,
    The fortune of your swords hath made it so.
    I never will my luckless choice repent,
    Nor can it stain mine honour or descent;
    Set England’s royal wreath upon a stake,
    There will I fight, and not the place forsake.
    And if the will of God hath so disposed
    That RICHMOND’S brow be with the crown inclosed,
    I shall to him, or his, give doubtless signs,
    That duty in my thoughts--not faction--shines.”

And the sincerity of his professions is fully attested by his subsequent
conduct, both in the camp and the cabinet. He became Lord Treasurer of
the Household, attended the Princess Margaret to Scotland on her
marriage with James the Fourth--the most chivalrous prince of his
age,--and, with his wife and daughter, was present at all the
magnificent scenes, fêtes, banquets, and tournaments, which attended
that ill-starred alliance.

On the accession of Henry the Eighth, he continued in the same high
office--was elected a privy councillor, appointed earl marshal of the
kingdom, and his majesty’s lieutenant for the north of England. His next
appearance in the field was at the battle of Flodden, where, with his
two sons, he had the chief command. The fortunes of that day are too
well known to every reader to require any lengthened description in this
place; but to connect the achievements with the subject of this brief
memoir, it becomes necessary to take a cursory view

    “Of the stern strife and carnage drear
     Of Flodden’s fatal field;
     Where shiver’d was fair Scotland’s spear,
     And broken was her shield.”

[Sidenote:

Sept. 9, {
1513.    {
]

On the morning of the battle the English army advanced in four
divisions. On the right, which first engaged, were the two sons of Earl
Surrey: Thomas Howard, Admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, Knight
Marshal of the Army. Their divisions were separated from each other; but
at the request of Sir Edmund, his brother’s battalion was drawn up very
near to his own. The centre was commanded by Surrey in person; the left
wing by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire and Cheshire.
Lord Dacres, with a large body of horse, formed a reserve. When the
smoke which the wind had driven between the armies was somewhat
dispersed, they perceived that the Scots, after having set fire to their
tents, had moved down the hill in a similar order of battle, and in
profound silence.

    “Scarce could they see or hear their foes
     Until at weapon-point they close--
     They close in clouds of smoke and dust,
     With sword-sway and with lances’ thrust;
                     And such a yell was there
     Of sudden and portentous birth,
     As if men fought upon the earth,
                     And fiends in upper air.
     Oh, life and death was in the shout;
     Revel and rally, charge and rout,
                     And triumph and despair!”

The Earls of Huntly and Home commanded the left wing of the Scots, and
charged Sir Edmund Howard with such impetuosity and success as entirely
discomfited his part of the right wing. Sir Edmund’s banner was beaten
down--

    Then fell the spotless banner white,
                  The Howard’s ‘Lion’ fell--

and he himself escaped with difficulty to his brother’s division. The
admiral, however, stood firm; and quickly advancing to his support with
the reserve of cavalry, appears to have kept the victors in effectual
check.

Then seizing the favourable moment and pushing forward, the admiral
charged and routed a large division of the Scottish army in his front,
commanded by the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, both of whom were slain
on the spot.

The King and Surrey, who led the centres of their respective armies,
were now engaged in close and doubtful conflict. James, surrounded by
the flower of his kingdom, supported by the reserve under the Earl of
Borthwick, but impatient and exasperated by the galling discharge of
arrows from the English bowmen, made his attack with such impetuosity
that the standard of Surrey was in imminent danger. But at that critical
moment Stanley, who had routed the Scottish wing on the left, and was
now pursuing his career of victory, arrived on the right flank in the
rear of the king’s division, which,

[Illustration]

by throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till night closed
in upon them.

Surrey then drew back his forces; for the Scottish centre remaining
unbroken, and their left wing being victorious, he yet doubted the event
of the field, for in the words of the poet--

    “The stubborn spearmen still made good
     Their dark impenetrable wood
     Each stepping where his comrade stood
                   The instant that he fell;
     No thought was there of dastard flight;
     Link’d in the serried phalanx tight
     Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
                   As fearlessly and well.”

The Scottish army, however, dispirited by the loss of their king and his
principal chiefs, abandoned the field before day-break, with a loss of
between eight and ten thousand men--among whom were the very prime of
their nobility, gentry, and even clergy.--Here the reader is referred to
Pinkerton.

Surrey’s loss was also very great; perhaps within one-third of the
vanquished; but those who fell were only men of inferior note. According
to the old ballad, there perished--

    “Never a nobleman of fame
     But Bryan Tunstall bold, alas!
     Whose corse home to his burial came,
     With worship great, as worthy was.”

The trophies of this victory were received by King Henry under the
walls

[Sidenote: 1524. {]

of Tournay, to which he had laid siege; and every honour which could
testify the royal satisfaction, or gratify a victorious commander, was
subsequently conferred on the hero of the day. He was restored to the
dukedom of Norfolk, acquired immense possessions, filled the highest
offices of state, lived in princely splendour at the royal castle of
Framlingham, and died at the age of eighty; leaving a numerous family to
support his dignities, and share his vast possessions. He was the last
of the Dukes of Norfolk buried in the Abbey of Thetford.

Her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was the mother of Anne Boleyn, who fell
a victim to the very hand which heaped so many honours upon her uncle
and his sons. The Duke himself presided as High Steward at her trial;
and even her father, “reluctantly it is to be hoped, sat among the
judges.”

Thomas Howard, Admiral of England, his eldest son and successor,
inherited the talents of his father; but with the accumulated honours of
his house, and the satisfaction which accompanied him in the discharge
of his duties to the sovereign and the state, misfortune was intimately
blended. His achievements in the field, his wisdom in the cabinet, his
devotion to the throne, appeared merely to hasten a catastrophe, from
which he was only saved by the death of his persecutor; but which
struck, in the person of his Son, one of the noblest victims that ever
sank under the axe of despotism:--

    “Who has not heard of Surrey’s fame?
     His was the hero’s soul of fire;
     And his the bard’s immortal name,
     And his was love exalted high
     By all the glow of chivalry.”

The crime for which this young nobleman was arraigned has never been
properly investigated. His biographers and historians of the time,
satisfied with the manifest absurdity of the treason alleged against
him, have omitted to point out the grounds upon which the inference of
Surrey’s guilt was founded, namely, the crime of quartering, with his
own, the royal arms of England. A few words on this subject, on the
authority of a recent biographer, may serve to elucidate some portion of
its obscurity.

The arms of Edward the Confessor are said to have been a blue field,
charged with a gold cross at the end, flory, between five gold martlets.
Royal arms appear to have been used in the time of Richard the First,
who bore a red shield, charged with three gold lions, which have ever
since been the royal standard of England[67]. In the reign of Edward the
First, and perhaps even in the previous century, the arms of three
saints--Saint George, Saint Edmund, and Saint Edward the
Confessor--were always borne on the national banner; but none of which
were supposed to have any connexion

[Illustration]

with the sovereignty of England. Richard the Second, however, choosing
the Confessor for his patron or saint, impaled his arms with those of
England and France; “and granted, at the same time, the Confessor’s arms
to be borne, per pale, by two or three of the most eminent men of his
court, who were descended from the blood royal.” One of the noblemen so
distinguished was Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; the right to whose
arms and quarterings was indisputably inherited by the Earl of Surrey;
but whether the coat or shield of the Confessor was granted to Mowbray
for life only, or to him and “his heirs for ever,” is a question which
remains still unsolved. Surrey, however, conceiving himself entitled to
it, obtained the sanction of the heralds, and assumed the distinction
among his other armorial quarterings. But the injustice of construing
this act into a treasonable design is too glaring to require either
comment or exposure. “The King himself, in granting armorial bearings to
Anne Boleyn, took especial care to show her royal and illustrious
descent through the Howards, by introducing the arms of Thomas de
Brotherton, son of Edward the First; and of the Warrens, Earls of
Surrey, out of the Howard shield![68]” But in that despotic reign,
virtue, talent, and integrity were no protection against the highest
penalty--the severest sentence which an obsequious legislation could
pronounce or inflict. Surrey was too bright an ornament to be endured
near the throne. His very accomplishments--his prowess--his high
spirit--his sword and pen--his triumphs in the lists--and his success on
the lyre, all raised up enemies whose private resentments could only be
appeased with blood.

[Sidenote: 1547. {]

SURREY was brought to trial at the Guildhall on the 13th of January,
where he defended himself with singular courage and ability; repelled
the charges so insidiously preferred against him; impeached the flimsy
evidence set up in support of the trial; appealed to the authority of
the heralds for the obnoxious quarterings on his shield; and disclaimed,
with all the indignation of conscious innocence, the treasonable
imputations so rancorously heaped upon him.

In the course of examination, when a witness stated that, in a former
conversation with the accused Earl, he repeated some strong expression
used by Surrey, with his own insolent reply--which left it to be
inferred that Surrey had tamely brooked his defiance--the young noble
fixed his penetrating glance for an instant on the speaker, then turning
round to the jury--“I leave it to you,” he said, “to judge whether it be
possible that the man before you should so address the Earl of Surrey,
and he not strike him on the spot.”

But the die was cast; the sentence of forfeiture was pronounced; the
King was deaf to the supplications of his friends--to the last appeal
for mercy. The thirst of blood had increased with the last agonies of
dissolving nature; and, on the twenty-first morning of the same month,
Surrey was hurried to Tower-hill, and there, under the blow of the
executioner, bequeathed that name to posterity, around which, poet,
painter, historian, and every lover of his country and her literature,
have twined the wreaths of immortality.

    “Thou jealous ruthless tyrant, Heaven repay
     On thee, and on thy children’s latest line,
     The wild caprice of thy despotic sway;
     The gory bridal bed; the plundered shrine;
     The murdered Surrey’s blood; the tears of Geraldine!”

Of the lives of Surrey and fair Geraldine, and the tournament in which
his knights carried away the prize in the Tuscan capital, we adopt the
following short sketch from the “Loves of the Poets:”--

“In the reign of Cosmo the First, the second Grand Duke of Tuscany of
Lorenzo’s family, Florence, it is said, beheld a novel and extraordinary
spectacle. A young traveller, from a court and a country which the
Italians of that day seemed to regard much as we now do the Esquimaux,
combining the learning of the scholar, and the amiable bearing of the
courtier, with all the rash bravery of youthful romance, astonished the
inhabitants of that queenly city, first by rivalling her polished nobles
in the splendour of his retinue--the gallantry of his manners; and next,
by boldly proclaiming that his ‘Ladye-love’ was superior to all that
Italy could vaunt of beauty. That she was ‘Oltre le belle, bella,’--fair
beyond the fairest; and maintaining his boast is a solemn tourney, held
in her honour, to the overthrow of all his opponents. This was our
English Surrey, one of the earliest and most elegant

[Illustration]

of our amatory poets, and the lover of the fair Geraldine. According to
the old tradition repeated by all Surrey’s biographers, he visited on
his travels the famous necromancer Cornelius Agrippa, who, in a magic
mirror, revealed to him the fair figure of his Geraldine, lying
dishevelled on a couch, and, by the light of a taper, reading one of his
tenderest Sonnets.”

    “Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye,[69]
        To which the wizard led the gallant knight,
      Save that before a mirror, huge and high,
        A hallow’d taper shed a glimmering light
      On mystic implements of magic might;
        On cross, and character, and talisman,
      And almagest, and altar, nothing bright:
        For fitful was the lustre, pale and wan,
     As watchlight by the bed of some departing man.

    “But soon, within that mirror huge and high,
        Was seen a self-emitted light to gleam;
      And forms upon its breast the Earl ’gan spy,
        Cloudy and indistinct, as feverish dream;
      Till, slow arranging, and defined, they seem
        To form a lordly and a lofty room,
      Part lighted by a lamp with silver beam.
        Placed by a couch of Agra’s silken loom,
     And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom.

    “Fair all the pageant--but how passing fair
       The slender form, which lay on couch of Ind!
     O’er her white bosom stray’d her hazel hair,
       Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined;
     All in her night-robe loose she lay reclined,
       And, pensive, read from tablet eburine,
     Some strain that seem’d her inmost soul to find:--
       That favour’d strain was SURREY’S raptured line,
     That fair and lovely form, the LADY GERALDINE.”

Within the narrow limits to which this work is necessarily restricted,
it is impossible to do justice to this melancholy subject, which of
itself has afforded, and would again afford, matter sufficient to form a
volume of the deepest interest. It has, however, long since engaged the
genius of Campbell and some of the best spirits of our literature, in
whose works the name and fame of Henry Howard are embalmed.

Thomas, the eldest son of the “murdered Surrey,” was restored to the
dukedom of Norfolk by Queen Elizabeth. Loaded with many honours and
dignities which evinced the entire confidence she reposed in him, all
appeared to augur that so brilliant a career would have closed in a
tranquil night. But the evil genius, which presided over his worldly
destinies, was yet to be appeased. The orders of knighthood; the captain
generalship of the forces the embassies and commissions, with which he
was successively honoured by his sovereign, were only preludes to the
last sad history of his life:--

    He did but dream on sovereignty,
    Like one that stands upon a promontory,
    And spies a far-off shore, where he would tread,
    Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
    And chides the sea that sunders him from thence.
                        KING HENRY VI.

Having received his early education under Fox, the martyrologist, then
tutor in the family of his aunt, the Duchess of Richmond, he took the
degree of master of arts at Cambridge, on the grand reception and
entertainment of Queen Elizabeth at that University.

After discharging with fidelity and éclat the high posts of trust
already mentioned; he was at last entangled by the snares of flattery
and overweening ambition, and charged with treasonable designs entered
into by him to forward the schemes of Mary Queen of Scots, with the view
of allying himself with that ill-fated Princess by marriage,--views in
which his ambition or his sympathy had got the better of his deliberate
judgment, and in which he appears to have been encouraged by those
hollow friends, who sought not his honour but his disgrace. He was
accordingly arraigned, tried; and confessing his wilful participation in
the plot, expiated his offence on the scaffold with characteristic
firmness and composure.

[Sidenote: 1572. {]

By his alliance with Mary Fitzalan of Arundel, whom he lost within a
year of their marriage, he had one son--Philip, Earl of Arundel.

To detail the circumstances of his life would far exceed our limits; but
one or two incidents, taken from his later history, will be neither
uninteresting nor uninstructive.--The charges brought against him
were--conspiring, with Cardinal Allen, to restore the Roman Catholic
faith in England; and concerting measures for quitting the realm without
the queen’s knowledge and permission. With regard to the conspiracy, the
evidence was too much based on party jealousy, vague hearsay, and
surmise, to establish anything like conviction in the minds of
unprejudiced judges. But of his attempted evasion from the kingdom, the
fact is abundantly clear, and is thus related.

After his liberation from the Tower, his fears of new prosecutions and
imprisonment became so excited, that he hastened from London to his
castle of Arundel, and there prepared to join a vessel previously
engaged for his service, and then waiting for him at Little Hampton.

Walsingham, however, who had his eyes and his spies everywhere, and is
proudly recorded to have “out-shot the Jesuits with their own bow, and
over-reached them in their equivocation,” was already in the secret.
Before the Earl could reach the coast, the captain had received private
notice from the Council, and was prepared to act in accordance with his
instructions. Day after day was consumed in waiting, as the skipper
pretended, for “a fair wind.” At length, the propitious moment having
arrived, Arundel, attended by two domestics, went on board, and the wind
being in their favour, the vessel made rapid way, and soon cleared that
beautiful coast where the castle and forest of Arundel were among the
last objects that faded from his eye, and led him, reflecting on the
past, to ejaculate--

    Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris!

Continuing their course across the channel, his mind now recovered some
portion of that serenity, to which he had long been a stranger. The
danger of discovery was seemingly past; the treachery of friends and the
machinations of enemies were alike forgotten or forgiven; and full of
pleasing anticipations of the future, he resigned himself to repose,
with this hope--

    Hæc olim meminisse juvabit.

His soothing reverie, however, was soon to be dissipated. At midnight, a
rocket, or other private signal, previously agreed upon, was let off
from the mast-head, whilst the vessel continued her course. But at
length they were suddenly hailed by a ship of war--ordered to
lay-to--and instantly boarded.

[Illustration]

The result is briefly told; the noble fugitive was hurried back to the
shore, delivered into safe custody, carried to London, and lodged in the
Tower, where, after trial and conviction, he was suffered to drag out an
existence of several years under all the harshness of office, the pangs
of disappointment, the hourly sorrows of paternal solicitude, and an
exhausted constitution. Four years afterwards this nobleman was
arraigned of high-treason, brought to his trial in Westminster Hall
before twenty-five of his peers, the Earl of Derby being high steward on
the occasion.

The “Earl appeared in a wrought velvet gown furred with martins, laid
about with gold lace, and buttoned with gold buttons, a black satin
doublet, a pair of velvet hose, and a high black hat on his head.” He
was a very tall man, somewhat swarthy, and coming to the bar made two
obeisances to the state, and to the nobles, and others present. Being
required to hold up his hand, he raised it very high, saying, “Here are
as true a man’s heart and hand as ever came into this hall.” It was
urged against him that “he was a traitor, being a Papist; that the Queen
of Scots had considered him one of her best friends; that Cardinal Allen
had spoken of him as the chief hope of the Roman Catholics in England;”
and that his letter to Queen Elizabeth, written on the eve of his
intended escape by sea, had plainly accused the national justice, with
regard to his father’s trial. He was then remanded to the Tower, and
there languished till his death, which was evidently accelerated by the
cruel suspense in which he was kept as to the final remission or
execution of his sentence.

[Sidenote: 1592. {]

Thomas Howard, the celebrated Earl, was brought up under the care of his
mother, a lady of great and eminent virtues; who “was not negligent,”
says Sir Edward Walker, “in his education; so that Robert Devereux, Earl
of Essex, was wont to call him the ‘Winter Pear,’ and to say, that, if
he lived, he would become a great and a wise man.” On the accession of
James the First, he was not only restored in blood by act of parliament,
but also reinstated in all such titles of honour and precedence as
Philip Earl of Arundel had forfeited; and in the honour, state, and
dignity of Earl of Surrey, and to such dignity of baronies as Thomas
Duke of Norfolk, his grandfather, had lost by his attainder.

In Italy, where he delighted to reside, he greatly improved his natural
taste and disposition, and became an excellent judge and patron of the
fine arts In the parliament of this year, says Collins, Robert Lord
Spencer, during the debates on the prerogative, speaking with great
freedom against the government, and citing examples from history to
illustrate his arguments, the Earl of Arundel interrupted him, by
saying, “When those things happened, my lord, your ancestors were
keeping sheep;” to which Spencer replied, “And yours, my Lord Arundel,
were hatching treason.” They were both ordered to retire; and Arundel,
as the aggressor, was, notwithstanding the court interest, sent to the
Tower, from which he was soon released upon making his submission.

He attended King Charles at his coronation in Scotland; where all
persons strove to outvie each other in the splendour of their apparel,
retinue, and entertainment; but, still keeping up his own simplicity of
dress and living, lost not on that account the honour and esteem due to
his person and quality.--He possessed the richest gallery in Europe.

[Sidenote: 1646. {]

His personal appearance and character are thus drawn: “He was tall of
stature, and of shape and proportion rather goodly than neat; his

[Illustration]

countenance was majestical and grave; his visage long; his eyes large,
black, and piercing; a hooked nose, and some warts or moles on his
cheeks; his complexion was brown, his hair thin both on his head and
beard: he was of stately presence and gait, so that any man who saw him,
though in never so ordinary a habit, could not but conclude him to be a
great person: his garb and fashion drawing more observation than did the
rich apparel of others; it being a common saying of James Hay, Earl of
Carlisle, ‘Here comes the Earl of Arundel in his plain stuff and trunk
hose, with his beard in his teeth, that looks more like a nobleman than
any of us.’”

He was more learned in men and manners than in books, yet understood the
Latin very well, was master of the Italian; and a great favourer of
learned men, such as Sir Robert Cotton, Sir Henry Spelman, Mr. Camden,
Mr. Selden, and other antiquaries. He was a great master of order and
ceremony, and knew, and kept greater distance towards his sovereign than
any person of that time, and expected no less from his inferiors; often
complaining, that the too great affability of the king, and the French
garb of the court, would bring majesty into contempt. In council he was
grave and succinct, rather discharging his conscience and honour, than
complying with particular interests; and so was never at the head of
business, or principal in favour; contenting himself to be as it were
the supporter of ancient nobility and gentry, and to interpose in their
behalf.--He was a Protestant in religion, but no bigot or puritan; and
professed more to affect moral virtues, than nice questions and
controversies. He was most faithful and affectionate to his lady,
indulgent to his children. His recreations were,--the education of his
grandchildren; conversation with them; overlooking his rare collections;
and when not diverted by business, pleasing himself in retirement to the
country.”

[Illustration]

The anecdote of the earl’s presenting old Parr to King Charles may
possibly be new to some of our readers. Parr at that time had lived and
enjoyed twice ‘three score years and ten,’ without manifesting either
infirmity of mind or body. He was one day the subject of conversation at
Court; and Arundel was authorised to present this living chronicle of
the kings of England to his majesty. Introduced to the royal presence,
King Charles addressed him with much affability, and said--“Well, Parr,
you have lived much longer than other men; pray, what have you _done_
more than other men?” “Done, your highness?” said Parr; “I think I may
say without vanity that I have done more than other men--I did penance
after I had passed my hundredth year.”--The following is told of his son
Lord Mowbray:

“At a committee of the House of Lords,” says Clarendon, “in the
afternoon, in some debate, passion arose between the Earl of Pembroke,
then lord chamberlain of the household, and the Lord Mowbray, eldest son
of the Earl of Arundel; and from angry and disdainful words, an offer or
attempt of blows was made; for which misdemeanour they were the next day
both sent to the Tower by the House of Lords. The king, taking advantage
of this miscarriage, and having been incensed by the carriage of the
Earl of Pembroke, sent to him for his staff, and bestowed it upon the
Earl of Essex.”

It is certain that Arundel faithfully adhered to the king, serving as a
volunteer in his army, till he was sent for by his father to join him at
Padua, where, after some stay in that city, and when on the point of
returning home, his father, who resolved to follow him, became suddenly
indisposed and died. Whereupon his lordship immediately gave orders for
embalming his remains; brought them over with him to England, where he
found the king’s affairs in a deplorable condition.

Thomas, (son and heir to Henry, Earl of Arundel,) who was Earl of
Arundel, Surrey, and Norfolk, after travelling into Italy, died at
Padua, unmarried. The family honours and estate descended to Henry his
brother, sixth Duke of Norfolk, who, being desirous of improving his
natural abilities by travel, set out from London in February 1664, with
his brother Edward to visit Constantinople, in compliance with an
invitation from Count Lesley, whom the Emperor Ferdinand had nominated
his ambassador extraordinary to the Sublime Porte. His Lordship was
received, in every city and town in his way through Germany, with the
honours due to his birth and fortune. At Vienna, he was immediately
presented to his Imperial Majesty, and had the honour of being a
frequent guest with the Emperor and Empress; as contained in his
“relation of a journey from London to Vienna, and thence to
Constantinople.”

After his Lordship’s return to England, in 1665, he was created Doctor
of the Civil Law at Oxford, having been a munificent benefactor to that
University, by his gift of the famous Marmora Arundeliana[70].

[Illustration]

HENRY, seventh Duke of Norfolk, was of Magdalen-College, Oxford, where
he took the degree of master of arts. In his father’s life-time, he was
summoned to Parliament, by the title of Lord Mowbray, and next day,
being introduced into the House of Peers, took his place at the upper
end of the Barons’ bench. On the accession of James II., he signed the
order, dated at Whitehall, for proclaiming him King of England. And by
his Majesty’s being Sovereign of the Order of the Garter, his stall, as
Duke of York, became vacant; when, at a chapter held at Whitehall,
Norfolk was elected of that most noble Order, and installed at Windsor,
the same year. He was then appointed Colonel of the twelfth regiment of
foot: but, in the course of next year, resigned his command. Bishop
Burnet relates, That the King giving the Duke of Norfolk the sword of
state to carry before him to the Chapel Royal, where service was to be
performed, the Duke went with it as far as the door of the Chapel, and
there with a profound obeisance, made a dead halt. Observing this, the
King said to him, My lord, your father would have gone _further_: to
which the Duke very significantly answered, Your majesty’s father was
the better man, and He would not have gone _so far_.

Additional and more recent anecdotes of the House of Howard will be
found in subsequent portions of this work.

[Illustration: TOMB OF THE HOWARD FAMILY IN FRAMLINGHAM CHURCH.]

     AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to:--Orderic, Vitalis, Histor.
     Ecclesiast. lib. xiii.--Simeon Dunelmensis,--Simeon of Durham,
     Hist. Kings of England, A.D. 616-1113, ed. 1732. Camden, Annales,
     ed. 1717.--Doomsday Book, ed. 1783.--Bishop Rede’s Register, on the
     authority of Mr. Tierney, p. 16.--Royal Patents--Clarendon’s
     History.--Broughton, (Hugh and Thomas,) Collins, Peerage, 1760, 7
     vols.--Caraccioli, History of Arundel.--Dallaway, Rape of
     Arundel--Do. West Sussex.--History of the Castle and Town of
     Arundel, by the Rev. M. A. Tierney.--Criticisms on the above.
     Horsfield, History, Antiquities, and Topography of Sussex. Speed,
     fol. ed. Harding’s Chronicles. Grafton’s Chronicle. Froissart.
     Monstrelet, 4to. Montfaucon--France Monumentale. MS. Description of
     Arundel and Environs. Notes on Mr. Tierney’s History, MS. English,
     French, and Latin Poets. Pictorial History. Civil and Military
     Transactions. Histories of Hume, Smollett, Lingard, Hallam,
     Chalmers’ Caledonia. Pinkerton Histories of Framlingham--Loder, and
     Green.--Lodge, &c. &c.

[Illustration: Sᵀ. ALBAN’S ABBEY.]




THE ABBEY OF ST. ALBANS.

    “--------------------------------------- Claustrum
      MARTYRIS ALBANI, sit tibi tuta quies!
     Hic locus ætatis nostræ primordia novit,
      Annos felices lætitiæque dies!
     Hic locus ingenuis pueriles imbuit annos
      Artibus, et nostræ laudis origo fuit.
     Hic locus insignes magnosque creavit alumnos.
      Felix eximio martyre, gente, situ,
     Militat hic Christo, noctuque dieque labori
      Indulget sancto religiosa cohors.”


The profound interest connected with the Abbey of St. Albans, has been
much increased of late years by the prospect still held out of seeing
its magnificent church converted into a cathedral. That this may be
speedily and permanently effected, is a hope which every admirer of
ecclesiastical architecture, every lover of that soil which has been
hallowed by the blood of martyrs, will rejoice to see realised.

[Illustration]

In the short historical introduction to this subject, we shall adopt the
testimony of the old chroniclers, whose names, with other authorities,
will be found, chronologically arranged at the end of the chapter, so
that the reader may know where to apply for such copious details as
cannot be comprised within the limits of the present work. This plan
will be carefully adhered to in the successive portions of the work, so
that the inconvenience arising from a multiplicity of notes, and the
frequent repetition of names and authorities, in the same chapter, may
be effectually obviated.

That the first bishops in England were of Roman origin is obvious from
their very names: and that wherever St. Augustin appointed a bishop he
founded a monastery, is a fact established by the history of every
cathedral. But in cases where the metropolitan did not found a monastery
and appoint a bishop at the same time, it appears that a monastic
establishment was formed shortly after by the newly appointed bishop. By
the time of Offa, king of the Mercians, about twenty great monasteries
had been established in England, with nearly the same number of
episcopal sees. Of the latter, several were not conjoined with the
former; the general design of both being to civilise and instruct
mankind by inculcating the doctrines of divine truth and revelation; but
in ways that differed much in after ages, not only between the several
bodies, but also between the superiors to whom they respectively
adhered. Offa’s zeal prompted him to do, what many of his crowned
predecessors had done before him; and feeling perhaps the acute pangs of
a guilty conscience, in reference to the death of Ethelbert, he sought
peace of mind and reconciliation with Heaven, by erecting some splendid
monument of his penitence and remorse. It were needless to remind the
reader how many of the great ecclesiastical establishments of
Christendom have originated from similar causes: how many propitiatory
Altars have been raised, only to attest those “compunctious visitings”
by which their noble or royal founders were driven from the glittering
pageants of state, to seek hope and refuge in the sanctuaries of
religion--in the lowly cell

[Illustration]

of the anchorite. What made monastic endowments part of a dying man’s
charity, was the special provision it secured for his safety and welfare
in another world. Here was an institution in which the “rich profligate”
was deeply interested; in which, after he himself had long passed away,
he might still benefit by the prayers and devotion of those who
ministered within its walls, and blessed the munificence of the founder.
Such were the hopes, such was the resolution, of King Offa, when
intending to finish a life of great earthly glory, sullied with many
crimes, he bethought him of building “a house where God might dwell.”

With regard to the precise site of the Abbey in contemplation, and the
name of the saint under whose tutelar guardianship it was to be placed,
Offa seems to have been undecided; till a miraculous intelligence, says
the legend, removed his perplexities and settled the question, to the
entire satisfaction of himself and his prelates. “Being then at Winslow,
the king prayed earnestly to God that, as he had often delivered him
from the dangers and assaults of his enemies, and from the snares and
subtilty of his wife, so he would vouchsafe him further light and
information to enable him to complete his vow of founding a Holy
Monastery, in token of his devotion. He entreated his friends, at the
same time, that they would unanimously and devoutly beseech God to
enable him to carry his intentions into effect. Hereupon all retired
into the adjoining chapel to pray; and having prayed longer than
ordinary, and offered up the same petition as the king had dictated, a
sudden light from heaven filled the place with more than meridian
splendour. This was viewed as the acceptable token of God’s favour, and
the king determined to grant the royal manor of Winslow for the new
foundation. But by another vision this pious intention was defeated. At
the dead of night, while the king lay at Bath, shortly after, he was
graciously accosted by an angel, as he thought, who admonished him to
raise out of the earth the first British martyr, Albanus, and place his
remains in a shrine with more becoming ornament. Hereupon, attended by
the prelates of his court and a multitude of followers, King Offa set
out in quest of those sacred relics, which had now been entombed upwards
of five hundred years. Journeying onward, divine assistance was once
more interposed in favour of the king: a light, resembling a mighty
torch, was seen blazing over the very city of the saint--yet the
difficulty was where to find his grave. But they were not kept in long
or painful suspense: a ray of fire stood over the place, like the star
that conducted the Magi to the Holy Child Jesus at Bethlehem. The ground
was opened; and, in the presence of Offa, the body of the English martyr
was found, together with some relics, in a wooden coffin, at the very
spot where he had suffered five hundred and seven years before. Great
was the joy of the king and his faithful subjects at this auspicious
event. A circlet of gold was placed round the martyr’s skull, with an
inscription to signify his name and title: a shrine was prepared for its
reception, richly adorned with gold and silver, till a more noble and
befitting repository could be designed and finished.” This is said to
have happened in the year seven hundred and ninety-one.

Assembling the prelates and officers of state in full council, Offa laid
before them his plan for the foundation and endowment of a new temple
for the service of God. His zeal and devotion were highly applauded by
the court; and, with their consent and approbation, Offa prepared to set
out on a pilgrimage to Rome, there to obtain advice and sanction from
the great head of the church. This pilgrimage to the holy city forms no
unimportant event in English history, for, in return for the immunities
and privileges granted by the sacred conclave to the new abbey, Offa
engaged to levy an annual tax upon his subjects, amounting to one penny
in every thirty, as a tribute to the see of Rome--a tribute which was
long rigorously exacted and faithfully paid by Offa and his successors
under the name of Peter’s-pence. On his return from Rome, Offa took
measures for carrying the grand object of his life into execution. He
made ample provision for its maintenance; special revenues were set
apart for the exercise of hospitality; so that the devout pilgrim, the
wayfaring stranger, the poor and the sick, might be indiscriminately
entertained at its gate, and the new abbey become the foster-mother of
active charity and Christian benevolence.

It is not our intention to enter into the question which has been
started by very learned antiquarians, as to the verity of the above; nor
would we remove one stone from the temple which tradition and history
have alike ascribed to Offa--

    “Offa, who deem’d that abbey which he built
     Might well atone the Mercian monarch’s guilt,
     To saintly odour deadly sins convert,
     And lay the accusing ghost of Ethelbert.”

The building, now finished under his immediate inspection, was opened
for the reception of a hundred monks of the Benedictine order--men who
had been selected with great care from the celebrated monasteries of the
day. The royal founder, however, was not destined to find a tomb where
he had found so much pious and soothing occupation. He was buried in a
chapel near the river Ouse, of which not a vestige is left--the water,
it is said, having overflowed its banks, and completely destroyed the
chapel and its saintly deposit. The abbot, we are informed, was anxious
to have secured the dust of the founder as a precious treasure for the
monastery; but Offa’s son and successor having refused compliance, the
worthy abbot took it so much to heart that he did not long survive the
royal benefactor.

Viewed externally, this Abbey is a grand and imposing feature in the
landscape, and never fails to inspire the stranger with feelings of awe
and admiration. Its lofty square tower meets the eye of the traveller in
every approach to the ancient Verulam, and conjures up a host of names
and events that have made a figure in history during the long lapse of
centuries--

    “Since first along the Ver’s embattled banks
    The Roman leader stretch’d his martial ranks,
    Till Henry’s mandate struck the fated shrine
    And sadly closed St. Alban’s mitred line.”

But without occupying further space in the dry routine of description,
we enter at once into the sanctuary, and notice such of the noble and
majestic features as may best convey to the reader some adequate idea
of its internal magnificence. Although familiarly acquainted with the
finest specimens of monastic buildings on the Continent, yet so much
were we struck on our last visit to this noble pile in January, that it
seemed to take precedence of all that we could remember; and, as we
passed before its shrines, through its

[Illustration]

pillared avenues, paused in its choir, and stood in awe in front of its
great altar, compelled us to ejaculate--“We have seen nothing finer than
this.”

    “Bold is the <g>Abbey’s</g> front, and plain;
     The walls no shrined saint sustain,
     Nor tower nor airy pinnet crown;
       But broadly sweeps the Norman arch
     Where once in brighten’d shadow shone
       King Offa, on his pilgrim-march,
     And proudly points the moulder’d stone
     Of the high vaulted porch beneath,
     Where Norman beauty hangs a wreath
     Of simple elegance and grace;
     Where slender columns guard the space
     On every side, in cluster’d row,
       The triple arch through arch disclose,
     And lightly o’er the vaulting throw
       The thwart-rib and the fretted rose.”

The fresh florid painting of the chestnut roof, upon which not a brush
has been employed for three centuries or more, is very remarkable, and
shows that the secret of mixing colours for the eye of posterity has not
descended to the present day. In the several compartments of this roof,
as faintly seen

[Sidenote: <g>i h s</g>

JESU HOMINUM SALVATOR.]

in the foregoing view, the three initial letters are the only ornament;
and being in the Saxon form, the effect is rather pleasing than
otherwise.--But in order to give the reader a more correct notion of the
interior, we proceed to the particular features selected for
illustration. Among these is

<g>The Nave</g>, to which we have slightly alluded, and on the spectator few
things can be imagined more likely to make a strong and lasting
impression. From whatever point it is contemplated, laterally or
longitudinally, grandeur of design and elaborate execution are the
leading characteristics. To enter into minute detail of its
architectural beauties were impossible in our narrow compass. The
general effect is all that we can presume to describe; and of this,
assisted by the very correct view prefixed, the reader will have little
difficulty in forming a just estimate of the magnificence that reigns in
this venerable temple of our ancestors. There is one feature
particularly deserving of notice, as a boundary line between two grand
epochs in ecclesiastical architecture: this is, the point where the
Saxon and Gothic meet in the same column. From the great western
entrance, right and left, the massive clustered pillars have been
evidently chiselled, at vast labour and expense, out of the original
Saxon--thus engrafting the new style upon the primitive stock. The point
where the Gothic ceases and the Saxon remains, and marking where the
progressive work of transformation had been arrested by some public
event, forms an admirable contrast, and shows the Gothic to infinite
advantage. But the Saxon arches, still untouched by the reformer’s
chisel, will be viewed by every lover of native art as precious relics
of antiquity.

    “In Saxon strength that abbey frown’d,
     With massive arches, broad and round,
     That rose alternate, row and row,
     On ponderous columns, short and low.”

Near the centre of the pavement is a remarkable echo, limited to one
particular position, and quite inaudible as we diverge from the spot.
The voice, or clapping of the hands, is reverberated with a noise like
the discharge of cannon, or the roll of distant thunder; at first, loud
and multiplied, and then dying gradually away in languid undulations.

<g>St. Cuthbert’s Screen</g>,[71] which divides the nave from the choir, forms
an imposing boundary to the _coup-d’œil_; but over its top the
spectator’s eye penetrates the lofty transept, takes in the whole space
between the high altar and the western portal, and wanders over the
richly emblazoned ceiling with feelings of mingled awe and admiration.
To the right and left are objects that rivet his attention to the spot:
the names and monuments of the dead; the tablets that encrust the walls,
or mix with the pavement, are eloquent of the past, and address him in
terms of solemn admonition. The dust of many abbots, the remains of
unnumbered monks, rest within its walls; ‘these all died in the faith,’
and, from the steps of the altar, descended into the regions of silence.
They, too, who had circled the monarch’s throne, swayed the senate,
fought his battles, fostered science, and enriched their country with
the spoils of nations, have all in their turn craved, like Wolsey at
last, the favour of a little hallowed earth to rest their weary heads
on. To enumerate the illustrious dead who have here taken up their last
abode, is not within our limits; but we must not omit, even in the most
cursory notice, to mention the famous traveller who saw, or feigned,
more wondrous things than ever fell to the lot of any other “pilgrim of
the nations.” We mean Sir John Mandeville, a native of the place, whose
tomb, covered with a massive slab of grey marble, and verified by an
inscription on the adjacent column, bears record to his eventful
history. But as he died at Liege in 1372, after thirty-four years spent
in travelling, doubts must necessarily arise as to the fact of his being
buried here. The evidence by which it is supported, however, is equal to
that of his travels.

<g>The Choir</g>, comprising the whole space between the western arch of the
tower and the great altar, is indisputably grand. Flanked by two
magnificent tombs right and left; closed on the east by the celebrated
altar screen, canopied, niched, and carved--_magna componere
parvis_--with all the fanciful, yet classic elegance of an ivory fan,
the stranger is almost bewildered by the profusion of objects that here
claim his notice and admiration. To dwell upon these in anything like
minute description, would preoccupy the space which we must reserve for
other particulars; but a few words are indispensable for

[Illustration]

the sake of the engraved view. The light, which is finely modified by
the means usually adopted, falls from the centre of the tower upon the
various objects in the choir, with a subdued religious effect which
greatly adds to the general impression. In this position, surrounded by
the varied labours of many centuries, we can fancy in part the scenes
and events which have transpired within these arches, before that altar,
at which so many kings and peers have bent the suppliant knee in
penitence and confession. In those early times it was a blessing, that
when outrage, violence, and injustice were irrepressible by any other
means, the strong arm of the church was sufficient to restrain--and when
it could not effectually restrain, to punish with its stigma--the
licentious baron, the crowned despot, and make the culprits quail at the
very head of their armies and retainers. Where the law was weak,
religion was strong, and, like the voice of God, heard upon earth,
encouraged the prostrate, and brought the rebellious under subjection.
Without its power and influence--its holy exercises and humanizing
studies--without the spiritual arm to check aggression, to redress
grievances, the baser passions must have revelled without control, and
life have become a scene of continued warfare. These considerations are
nowhere felt with more obvious truth than on the spot where we now
stand, where so many deadly feuds have given way to religious
exhortation; where they who had met as foes quitted the altar as
friends--friends at least in act, if not in heart--and returned the
guilty sword to its scabbard. But we need not detain our readers with
what is manifest to every reflecting mind--that if justice and redress
were anywhere to be found in those times, it was rather in the abbeys,
than either in the Star Chamber or Westminster Hall.

<g>The Screen</g> of the great altar, or “Wallingford’s screen,” was begun and
finished in the reign of Edward the Fourth, and is one of the best--if
not the very best--specimens of the style and architecture of that
epoch. It was the munificent taste of Abbot Wallingford, and his liberal
encouragement of the arts, which have bequeathed this precious morceau
to the admiration of posterity. It has suffered little from the lapse of
time and the momentous changes which have passed over the abbey; and for
beauty of design and elegance of workmanship is worth a pilgrimage. Its
front consists of three divisions--a centre and two wings, the latter
being perfectly symmetrical; the lower part of the centre displays a
double series of small niches with rich canopies. On great festivals of
the Church this splendid tabernacle was covered with cloth of gold or
crimson, and, drooping from its lofty pinnacles in ample folds, must
have produced an effect worthy of the gorgeous taste of Wolsey himself,
who carried the “state ecclesiastical” to a higher pitch than any of his
predecessors.

<g>The Pulpit</g>, which is a fine specimen of oak carving, though not
apparently of a remote date, is well deserving of attention; and in
recalling the splendid ceremonial of former times, with the impressive
but simple and decorous service of the present day, the mind is prepared
to weigh and contrast the spiritual energies which, exercised under that
canopy, have expounded the doctrines and enforced the duties of a
religious life. The pulpit of St. Albans would be no bad subject in the
hands of another Boileau.

On the right of the altar, and closely adjoining the screen, is the tomb
of Abbot Ramryge--an elaborately carved Gothic chapel or shrine, greatly
admired for the beauty and delicacy of its workmanship, which is in high
preservation.

Opposite to this, and occupying the corresponding arch, is another but
less ornamental shrine to the memory of Abbot Whethamstead. Both are of
native stone--of a remarkably fine close texture, procured from the
quarry of Tottenhoe, light Portland colour, and capable of being wrought
into the most delicate tracery. Of this material all the finest
chisel-work of the abbey is composed.

Erected against the south wall of the church, where a door formerly
existed, is a beautiful Piscina, represented in many engravings. It has
all the marks of antiquity, and is said to occupy the spot where, in the
earliest times of Christianity in this country, two devout Eremites had
chosen their cell, and there, by a life of austere penance and
mortification, left a holy example for their brethren in after times. As
a fragment of the colossal Abbey, this traditionary relic is of itself a
gem, and never fails to secure a full share of the stranger’s
attention.[72] On one of the windows of the south aisle, was “a
representation of the martyrdom of St. Alban” in painted glass, only a
few fragments of which remain. On the wall below was an inscription, now
almost obliterated, beginning thus:--

    “This image of our frailty, painted glass,
     Shews where the life and death of Alban was.
     A knight beheads the martyr, but so soon
     His eyes dropt out to see what he had done;
     And leaving their own head, seemed with a tear
     To wail the other head laid mangled there,” &c.

Between the east façade of the great screen and the end of the church
wall, is the space occupied by the modern Vestry, containing several
objects well deserving of notice, and long hallowed in the eyes of
priest and pilgrim as the spot on which the <g>Shrine</g> of the protomartyr
had stood for centuries, and drawn much tribute from the devout of all
nations. Deeply cut in the pavement near this spot, is the following
inscription:

    ST. ALBANUS VERULAMENSIS ANGLORUM PROTOMARTYR. XVII. JUNII. CCXCVII.

In the pavement six small artificial grooves mark the spot where rested
the pillars of the shrine, weighed down by the accumulated riches with
which it was loaded in the shape of votive offerings.

On the north side is the Rood-loft--a carved Gothic shrine of oak, in
the upper part of which, behind a lattice-work, the monks kept constant
watch over the sacred treasures, while the pilgrims knelt at the shrine.
In the floor several hollows are observable around the spot--worn, it is
said, by the successive crowds whose “penitential knees” subjected the
stone during centuries to perpetual friction and pressure. Such an
effect is by no means improbable. Whoever has witnessed the fervour with
which that ancient bronze, the statue of St. Peter at Rome, is saluted
by a continual stream of pilgrims, will not be surprised to find that
the same spirit of devotion has left a deep impression on the hard
pavement of St. Albans. We do not “speak irreverently;” where so many
tears have undoubtedly been shed, so many sins confessed, it is pleasing
to indulge the belief that the sincerity, if not the form, was accepted;
that many a heavy heart, many an oppressed conscience, has here found
relief, and formed lasting resolutions of amendment.

    “Prostrate on this cold stone, what tears and sighs
     Have pour’d from breaking hearts the sacrifice!”

The clerk, who is well informed, and a professed collector of
curiosities, showed us several skulls and bones which had been found in
the adjoining fields[73]--some of which, from their gigantic
proportions, are worth inspection.

[Illustration]

One or more sepulchral brasses are also deserving of notice, one in
particular--that of an Abbot, richly carved, of large dimensions, and
affording a fine specimen of the state of the art in his day. How it
escaped the soldiers of Cromwell--the greatest “collectors” of their
age--is a mystery The guide has taken some very good impressions of this
and other objects by a very simple process, for the accommodation of
intending purchasers. But the grand object of attraction is the
<g>Shrine-Tomb</g> of the good Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, whose unhappy
destiny is familiar to every reader of English history. This tomb was
erected during the abbacy of Whethamstead, who, for his taste and
knowledge of architecture, has been justly styled the “Wykeham” of his
time. The description, which may be seen in the printed history, and
equally applicable at all times, is here omitted; for, where the
engraving of the subject is presented to the reader, the necessity of
description is much obviated, and the writer is thus permitted to dwell
at greater length on the interesting portion of history with which the
subject is connected.--A detailed account of this shrine is given in
Blore’s “Sepulchral Antiquities,” Part the third.

The character of this unfortunate Prince has been represented under
different aspects by the writers of his day; but by far the majority
bear willing testimony to his virtues, to his personal accomplishments,
to his liberal encouragement of science and literature, in which he
himself had acquired some merited distinction. At that epoch, however,
the sword was too indispensable, peace and tranquillity were too little
felt and enjoyed, to allow much scope for the more humanizing studies
and pursuits. The dawn of science was still but an indistinct speck in
the horizon; and the few who had already tasted the sweets of literature
were continually roused from their intellectual feast by the clang of
arms, and the shouts of fresh combatants.

It was under such unpropitious circumstances that Humphrey the Good gave
his heart to letters; but with armed hand sought those means for its
prosecution which were never to be realized. The history of his life and
death may be comprised in a few sentences, and in doing so we give a
ready preference to the authority of old Grafton, with only slight
alterations in the orthography:--“Divers articles,” says he, “both
heynous and odious, were laid to hys, the Duke’s, charge in open
counsayle, and in especial one, that he had caused men, adjudged to die,
to be put to other execution than the law of the land had ordered or
assigned: for surely the Duke, being very well learned in the law civil,
detesting malefactors, and punishing their offences, gat great malice
and hatred of such as feared to have condign reward for their ungracious
actes and mischievous doings. Although the Duke, not without great laud
and praise, sufficiently answered to all things to him objected; yet,
because his death was determined, his wisdom little helped nor his truth
smally availed; but of this unquietness of mind he delivered himself,
because he thought neither of death, nor of condemnation to die, such
affiance had he in his strong truth, and such confidence had he in
indifferent justice. But his capital enemies and mortal foes, fearing
that some tumult or commotion might arise, if a prince so well beloved
of the people should be openly executed and put to death, determined to
trap and undo him ere he thereof should have knowledge or warning. So,
for the furtherance of their purpose, a parliament was summoned to be
kept at Bury, whither resorted all the Peers of the realm, and amongst
them the Duke of Gloucester, which, on the second day of the session,
was by the Lord Beaumont, then High Constable of England, accompanied by
the Duke of Buckingham and others, arrested, apprehended, and put in
ward, and all his servants sequestered from him, and thirty-two of the
chief of his retinue sent to divers prisons, to the great admiration and
surprise of the common people. The night after his imprisonment the Duke
was found dead in his bed, being the twenty-fourth day of February, and
his body showed to the Lords and Commons, as though he had died of a
palsey or impostume. But all indifferent persons well knew,” continues
the Chronicle, “that he died of no natural death, but of some violent
force; some judged him to be strangled, others write that he was stifled
or smoldered between two feather-beds.”

“The dead corpse of this Duke was caryed to Saint Albans, and there
honourably buryed. Thus this noble prince, son, brother, and uncle to
kings, which had valiantly and politiquely, by the space of twenty-five
years, governed this realm, and for his merits was called ‘The good Duke
of Gloucester,’

[Illustration]

was, by a bone cast by his enemies, choked and brought to his fatal fine
and last ende.” This Duke Humphrey was “not only valyant and noble in
all his acts and doings, but sage, politique, and notably well learned
in the civil law.”[74] In proof of this, the reader may refer to an
amusing anecdote of him in Sir Thomas More’s “Dialogue concerning
Heresies,” &c., chap. xiv.; also, to Shakspeare’s Henry VI., Act II.,
Scene I. The good Duke is also said to have “builded the Divinitie
Schole at Oxford, which is a rare pece of worke.”

<g>The Vault</g> in which the “good Duke’s” remains had been deposited, was
only discovered by accident early in the last century. When “first
opened, the body was found in a leaden coffin, in perfect preservation,
and floating in a strong pickle, which, however, on being exposed, soon
evaporated and left the body to decay. At the foot of the coffin was
painted on the wall a picture of the crucifixion, with a chalice at each
hand, a second at the side, and a third at the feet, to receive the
blood trickling from the Saviour’s wounds, with a hand extending from
the dust with this scroll--“Blessed Lorde haue mercye on mee.” This
painting is still visible on the stone of the vault, which was
remarkably dry in January last, and of a temperature considerably higher
than that of the chancel above. The skull, which shows the intellectual
characteristics of the phrenologists, and a great portion of the
skeleton, are still left; but no care having been taken of it for many
years after its discovery, various portions were appropriated by
relic-hunters, and other conveyancers of anatomy.

In the summer of 1765--as related in the Topographical Library, article
Hertfordshire--David Garrick and Quin, who was remarkably fond of good
living, made a trip to St. Albans; where, on visiting the Abbey church,
and being shown the bones of Duke Humphrey, Quin jocosely lamented that
so many aromatics and such a quantity of spirits should have been wasted
in preserving a dead body. After their return to dinner, and whilst the
wine was circulating, Garrick took out his pencil and composed the
following verses, which he termed


QUIN’S SOLILOQUY.

    A plague on Egypt’s arts, I say!
    Embalm the dead! On senseless clay
      Rich wines and spices waste!
    Like sturgeon, or like brawn, shall I
    Bound in a precious pickle lie,
      Which I can never taste?

    Let me embalm this flesh of mine
    With turtle fat, and Bourdeaux wine,
      And spoil th’ Egyptian trade!
    Than good Duke Humphrey, happier I,
    Embalmed alive, old Quin shall die
      A Mummy ready made!

<g>The Chapel</g> of Our Lady, which is now converted into a public school,
presents in its architecture the same style and embellishments which
distinguish the most highly-finished ecclesiastical structures of its
time. The entrance from the south in the “olden time,” as here
represented in the engraving, is one of the most effective points of
view. To describe minutely, would be only to load our pages with
unnecessary repetition; for nothing in the form of words can adequately
convey the great elegance and beauty which predominate throughout the
whole edifice. To be rightly understood and appreciated, it must be
seen; and of this the admirers of antiquity seem fully aware, for the
numbers who continually resort to the Abbey church for the study and
improvement of architectural science, bear ample testimony to the
exquisite materials which it offers for that purpose. The erection of
new churches, and the restoration of others in a dilapidated state, are
greatly facilitated by the numerous models, in every department, which
are here thrown open for imitation. Artists are seen taking casts;
others measuring the proportions, comparing the drawings, selecting the
beauties, and copying the example of whatever is chaste in design or
exquisite in workmanship. In short, the Abbey of St. Albans may be
considered as a vast museum, or school of arts, where the student may
improve and perfect his designs upon the best models; and which, were
every other lost, might still supply the elements for constructing a
masterpiece of ecclesiastical Architecture.

[Illustration]

All the subjects in this superb Abbey, to which we have thus briefly
adverted, are more or less striking in their kind; yet the effect is
peculiarly enhanced or diminished according to the season and hour
selected for the visit. The glare of noon, and the sober light of
evening, produce effects which are scarcely credible to those who are
not familiarized to such contrasts; but in no instance have we ever seen
this venerable and majestic pile to such advantage as during our recent
visit, when we resolved to take a view after the twilight had passed
away, and the still deep shadows of night had thrown their mantle over
the scene. One of our party, who is an excellent judge and an
enthusiastic admirer of “Gothic grandeur,” strongly advised us to make a
survey by torch-light; but to this certain objections were started,
which it became necessary to respect. Reluctantly abandoning the torch,
we sallied forth into the sacred precincts under the dim light of a
westering moon, and, sauntering along in a silent contemplative mood,
enjoyed a treat of which the noon-day visitor can form no adequate
conception. It afforded what may be truly called a “night at St.
Alban’s,” and seemed to address us in the words of the poet--

    “Ye, whose high spirit dares to dwell
     Beyond the reach of earthly spell,
     And tread upon the dizzy verge
     Of unknown worlds, or downward urge,
     Thro’ ages dim, your steadfast sight,
     And trace their shapes of shadow’d light;
     Oh! come with meek, submitted thought,
     With lifted eye by rapture taught,
     And o’er your head the gloom shall rise
     Of monkish chambers, still and wide,
     As once they stood: and to your eyes
     Group after group shall slowly glide,
     And here again their duties ply--
     As they were wont, long ages by.”

The entrance to Lady-chapel from the north, of which a view has been
already given at page 80, is particularly characteristic and
picturesque. The massive square tower, showing at intervals its Roman
materials and ancient masonry, throws a solemn and stately grandeur over
the scene. It seems, while we look upon its scars, as if covered with
hieroglyphics which embody the sacred and political history of a
thousand years, during which it has been a cherished landmark to the
pilgrim, a home to the weary, and an object of sanguinary contention
between rival armies.

    “Here to its hospitable gate,
       In want or woe, the pilgrim came;
     For at its portal Pity sate,
       To dry the tears of sin and shame.
     And here have armies on their march,
       And monarchs with their chiefs of fame,
     Paused, as beneath that lofty arch
       Their lips invoked St. Alban’s name.”

The great western entrance has a very imposing aspect, and conveys to
the spectator’s mind those ideas of ecclesiastical magnificence which
can only be inspired by the noblest constructions of art--such as are
here presented to his contemplation. It consists of a projecting porch,
elaborately ornamented, niched and pillared, and subdivided into
numerous compartments, upon which the artist’s chisel has been most
skilfully employed.

    “Beside this porch, on either hand,
     Giant buttresses darkly stand,
     And still their silent vanguard hold
     For bleeding knights, laid here of old;
     And Mercian Offa and his queen,
     The portal’s guard and grace, are seen.
     This western front shows various style,
     Less ancient than the central pile.
     It seems some shade of parted years
     Left watching o’er the mouldering dead,
     Who here for pious Henry bled;
       And here, beneath the wide-stretch’d ground
       Of nave, of choir, of chapels round,
     For ever--ever rest the head.”

Over the entrance is the magnificent window, shown in the steel plate:
it occupies nearly the whole breadth of the nave, and through its
numerous mullioned and transomed squares, pours a flood of light upon
the long Gothic aisles as far as the high Altar. To see the interior of
the church to the greatest advantage, the spectator should take his
station at this entrance, and at that hour after mid-day when the light
and shade are brought into strongest contrast.

[Illustration]

In the south Aisle, nearly opposite the steps leading into the Chapel of
St. Alban, is the subject of the annexed cut. It is an oblong table of
stone, covered with a massive slab of dark marble, which is considered
to be of a rare and precious quality. It is marked with several small
crosses, rudely traced, and, as we were told by our cicerone, is the
original Altar-table of the Monastery, which, after the suppression of
the latter in 1539, was removed from the choir.

This Aisle, including the exterior of Abbot Whethamstead’s monument on
the left--that of Duke Humphrey in the distance--the entrance to the
shrine of the patron saint between, and with the outer doorway arches,
windows, and altar on the right, is one of the most interesting scenes
in the church. Standing by this altar of a thousand years, the lines of
the French poet possess a force which in any other situation would be
scarcely felt:

    Les arcs de ce long clôitre, impénétrable au jour,
    Les degrés de l’autel usés par la prière,
    Ces noirs vitraux, ce sombre et profond sanctuaire,
    Où peut-être des cœurs, en secret malheureux,
    A l’inflexible autel se plaignoient de leurs nœuds,
    Et, pour des souvenirs encore trop pleins de charmes,
    A la religion dérobaient quelques larmes--
    Tout parle, tout émeut dans ce séjour sacré!

<g>The Gate-House</g>, with its ponderous oaken doors still closing the lofty
pointed archway, is a massive and cumbrous pile of building, and has all
the rude

[Illustration]

strength of a fortress crowned with embattled walls. It stands parallel
with the west end of the church, at the distance of about one hundred
and fifty feet, and formed the original grand entrance to the
Abbey-court, which was bounded, at the distance of about three hundred
feet, by a lower gate leading to the Abbey Mills. Both these gateways
were originally crowned with turrets. The smaller gate has long since
disappeared; and the larger fabric, which still survives the shock of
centuries, has undergone many alterations in recent times, as is
sufficiently apparent in the view annexed. The massive oak doors, still
firm on their hinges, are good specimens of ancient carpentry. This gate
is said to have been built in the reign of Richard the Second, and is
every way characteristic of that age of treason and feudal splendour.
The lower apartments were appropriated to malefactors under the
jurisdiction of the Lord Abbot; and, with the exception of the order
having been reversed--by converting the upper rooms to a similar
purpose--it is still the prison for the borough and liberty of St.
Albans.

The high and distinguishing privileges enjoyed by the spiritual lords of
this Abbey gave them precedence of every other in the kingdom. “The
king,” says Weever, “could make no secular officer over them but by
their own consent; they were alone quit from paying that apostolical
custome and rent which was called Rom-scot, or Peter-pence; whereas
neyther kinge, archbishop, bishop, abbot, prior, nor any one in the
kingdom, was freed from the payment thereof. The Abbot also, or monk
appointed archdeacon under him, had pontifical jurisdiction over all the
priests and laymen, of all the possessions belonging to this church, so
as he yielded subjection to no archbishop, bishop, or legate, save onely
to the Pope of Rome. This Abbot had the fourth place among the Abbots
which sate as Barons in the Parliament House.” “Howsoever, Pope Adrian
the Fourth, whose surname was Breakspeare, born hereby at
Abbots-Langley, granted this indulgence to the Abbots of this
monasterie, namely--that as Saint Alban was distinctly known to be the
first martyr of the English nation, so the Abbot of this monasterie
should at all times, among other Abbots of England, in degree of
dignity, be reported first and principal. The Abbot and convent of this
house were acquitted of all toll throughout England. They made Justices
‘ad audiendum et terminandum,’ within themselves, and no other Justice
could call them for any matter out of their libertie. They made
Bayliffes and Coroners; they had the execution and returne of all writs,
the goodes of all outlaws, with gaole and gaole deliverie within
themselves.”--These particulars have been carefully embodied in a poem
on the subject, from which we have already quoted. In the prosperous
days of the Abbey, several apartments were built exclusively for the use
of strangers.[75] These adjoined the cloisters; and beyond them, in a
separate range of buildings, were the king’s and the queen’s
apartments.[76] But notwithstanding this preparation for visitors, and
these indirect invitations, it would seem, on the authority of Matthew
Paris, that some of the earlier “monarchs came too often, or at least
with too cumbrous suites.”

The princely state which the Abbots maintained in their style of living,
in their table and retinue, partook much more of regal splendour than of
religious restriction. The scene, as exhibited on a festal day in the
Abbey, is thus effectively sketched by Mrs. Ann Radcliffe:--

... The stately walls, with tapestry richly dight,
    Of the <g>Abbot’s</g> banquet-hall, where, as on throne,
    He sat at the high dais, like prince alone,
    Save when a Royal guest came here,
    Or papal Legate claimed a chair.
    Here marble platforms, flight o’er flight,
        Slow rising through the long-lined view,
    Showed tables spread at different height,
        Where each for different rank he knew.
    And, with pleased glance adown the hall,
    Saw Bishops in their far-sought palle,
    The Abbey’s noble Seneschal;
    Barons and Earls in gold array,
    And warrior knights in harness gray.
    There was the Prior’s delegated sway;
    The grave Archdeacon sat below,
    And the hundred Monks in row and row,
    Not robed in dismal sable they
    Upon a high and festal day,
    But all in capes most costly and most gay.
    There too the Abbey Marshal shone;
    And there, beside the Abbot’s throne,
    Chaplain of honour from the Pope alone.”

The battles, of which the immediate vicinity of St. Albans has been the
theatre, are familiar to every reader of history.[77] In connection with
our immediate subject, however, we may briefly advert to them as
melancholy contrasts to that peace and religious tranquillity which were
supposed to be the cherished inmates of this magnificent sanctuary.

[Sidenote:

The first {
battle.   {
1455.     {
]

It was now, says Newcome, when the first battle of St. Albans happened;
the causes of which it is unnecessary to relate. Suffice it to say, that
the king attended with his nobles, or such as were of his council, and a
number of armed troops came down from London; and probably with the view
that a treaty with the Duke of York might be carried on with less
interruption or danger from the military. The duke was coming from the
north; and brought with him 3000 men of that body which he had raised
there, and took part in the great field on the east side of the town,
called Key-field. The king’s men had barricadoed all the avenues on that
side. The cry among the Yorkists was, “Give up the Duke of Somerset;”
but no concession of this sort being made, the duke’s men broke into St.
Peter’s Street; and being there met by the royalists, a dreadful
conflict ensued; where, after many were slain, the king’s party lost
courage and fled, leaving their sovereign alone, and standing under his
standard. He, perceiving himself thus deserted, walked away into a small
house, that of a baker; and here the duke finding him, led him out, and
conducted him to the Abbey, where he first placed him close to the
shrine, whether for safety and sanctuary, or to induce him to return
thanks for his safety. He then conducted him to the royal apartments,
and the next day to London. The effeminacy of the king’s men, and to
which is ascribed the loss of the battle, is thus described by our
author, who saw both parties, and writes of them thus:--

    Quicquid ad Eoos tractusque regni tepores
    Vergitur, emollit animos Clementia Cœli: et
    Omnis in arctois sanguis quicunque pruinis
    Nascitur, indomitus bellis, et mortis amator.

The duke’s men fell to plundering the town, but, by the commands of the
duke, they abstained from doing any injury to the Abbey; but the Abbot

[Illustration]

thought it necessary to send out to them great quantities of victuals
and wine, and this, together with the protecting hand of the martyr, as
my author asserts, preserved the Abbey and church from any injury by
spoil and depredation. The slain lay thick in the upper street, and at
the division of the ways about the market; and among them were seen the
dead bodies of Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset; of Henry Percy, Earl
of Northumberland; and of Thomas Clifford, Lord Clifford. But because
they were persons well known to be hateful to the Duke of York when
alive, none ventured to prepare for their funerals, or showed any decent
regard to their dead bodies. Whereupon Abbot John addressed the duke,
and begged him to spare the vanquished, and suffer some honours to be
paid to the deceased--“Not enemies will I call them,” says he, “but your
relations by blood,--your fellow patriots.” And saying more to recommend
moderation in his victory, the duke commanded him to take the bodies and
provide for their funerals. The Abbot then caused some of the brethren
to go forth and take up the deceased. This being done, and the dead
bodies received into the church and laid out in decent order, in a few
days the funeral obsequies were performed, and the bodies had interment
in the chapel of the Blessed Virgin. They were laid in the ground
“lineali ordine, juxta statum, gradum, et honorem, dignitatis. Unde de
his dominis et de eorum sepulturâ scribitur in ista formâ:”[78]--

    Quos Mars, quos Martis sors sæva suæque sororis,
    Bello prostrarunt, villæ medioque necarunt.
    Mors sic occisos tumulaverat his simul ipsos,
    Postque necem requiem causavit habere perhennem,
    Est medium sine quo vult sic requiescere nemo:
    Hic lis, hic pugna, mors est quæ terminat arma;
    Mors, sors, et mavors, qui straverunt dominos hos.

During a period of more than seven centuries, “this Abbey continued to
flourish with various improvements, under the government of no less than
forty-one Abbots, many of whom enriched it with additional buildings and
treasures; so that its extent was in proportion to its immense estates,
and more resembled a town than a religious establishment. To its
apartments we have already adverted. Here, in 1215, King John, during
his opposition to the Barons, ‘held a grand consultation’ in the
Chapter-house; here also Louis the Dauphin, who arrived shortly after,
exacted a heavy contribution for carrying on the war, in which he had
been invited to take part. Henry the Second and Henry the Third were
often entertained by the Abbots of St. Albans, and were liberal
benefactors to the monastery;” but the eighth Henry, as every reader is
aware, pursued the opposite course. Its funds were appropriated to state
purposes, its privileges abolished, its inmates dismissed; but the
fabric itself, comparatively, suffered little from the violence of the
transition.

In a careful perusal of the history of this monastery, the reader will
find abundant materials for reflection. The lives of the Abbots, as
recorded by a member of their own body, present many instructive
anecdotes and examples of the civil and religious government, the state
of society, the progress of science, and that encouragement of the arts
over which they exercised so direct and beneficial an influence.
“Although originally subject to the Diocesan, the Lord Abbot gradually
advanced in external splendour till the Abbey-church became a rival to
the Cathedral; and this,” as Newcome has observed, “went on till, at
the Dissolution, the mitred Abbots, who had laboured for pre-eminence,
outnumbered the Bishops in the House of Lords, amounting in 1514 to
twenty-eight, whilst the Bishops were only eighteen or nineteen.”

There were many other considerations that tended to give the Monks power
and consequence; and Abbeys were found to be such beneficial
institutions, that they would have stood their ground to the present
day, had not their great possessions and revenues tempted indigent
courtiers “to combine and plot against them.” “Their utility,” continues
the same author, “appeared in these respects, that they exercised great
hospitality towards the poor; and this was done at one-tenth of the
expense which the poor now (1790) create, by being maintained by a legal
provision. The monastery was the house of reception for all the sick,
who were here nursed, spiritually consoled, and cured. The monastery
generally employed masters to teach the poor children of the
neighbourhood; entertained all persons who were ingenious in any art or
science, and transcribed books when few understood the art, or could
undertake it. There is now extant a chronicle composed and printed at
St. Albans, in 1484, under the countenance then given to this particular
Abbey by Richard the Third.”

“These old religious houses kept public registers of all great public
transactions; and to them we are indebted for all our English historians
down to the period of the Dissolution. They were possessed of all the
learning that was in any repute at the time prior to the coming of the
friars. The monasteries, in general, furnished the men who were fit for
embassies abroad, or for offices of trust and distinction at home: and
to their honour it is recorded, that all the inferior officers, both in
the courts of law and in the civil departments of the Government, who
are called clerks, owe this appellation to the religious houses, Abbeys
or Cathedrals, from which the first officers were taken. The landed
property belonging to these houses at the time of the Dissolution was so
great, that it was computed at one-third of the kingdom. Yet, whatever
were their temporal possessions, they were always found to be good
landlords, ever ready to forward improvements, and accomplishing many
great works in draining, enclosing, and planting, which could never have
been undertaken by individuals.” “In truth,” adds the historian quoted,
“they did more to civilize mankind, and to bring them within the
comforts of society, than any set of men of any denomination have ever
done. And yet the ungrateful world, that was enjoying the fruits of
their labours and their riches, now that it beheld the edifice
completed, cast down the builders and the scaffoldings as if no longer
useful! In spite of all the calumny thrown out against these monastic
institutions, nothing so well proclaims their utility as this--that they
maintained themselves in credit and repute, some of them a thousand
years; and many of them during the space of three hundred, four hundred,
and five hundred years; and that, when they were dissolved, Edward the
Sixth and his counsellors found it necessary to endow new hospitals, to
build new schools, and to provide new relief for the poor and helpless.”

Such is the testimony of a liberal-minded clergyman of the Church of
England, who spent a great portion of his leisure in investigating the
history of monastic institutions, particularly that of St. Albans.
“These religious foundations,” he adds, “fell with such undeserved
calumny and slander, that it is but common justice to restore their
character, and give them their due praise, wherever that can be done;
and if all others were as free from corruption and ill government as the
Abbey of St. Albans, it would be seen how unjustly they were accused,
and that their overthrow was effected for other reasons than pretended
misrule and corruption. But as they had been ever the main pillar and
support of the Papal dominion, it was natural and consistent to abolish
the members after the Head was rejected. They were bodies so nearly
allied to the Papal power, that they must of necessity fall with it; and
although a gradual reformation might have been effected in them, yet, in
the new plan of church government, they were deemed unnecessary; for the
new Head of the

[Illustration]

Church and his counsellors wished to have as few subjects in the Church
to be governed as might be. Accordingly, by dissolving the regular
clergy, and limiting the Church, to the episcopal order of seculars,
they rejected above one hundred thousand of the former, and retained
about eight thousand of the latter. Whatever was the pretext, the real
truth appears to have been this--that their temporal power and wealth
tempted their downfall; and in spite of all the good and real merit that
was to be found in them, they fell a prey and spoil to an extravagant
monarch, and his ‘needy and profligate’ courtiers. In the legislature of
those times, there were many great and able men; but whatever cause
there may be to charge them with want of _piety_, there is no room to
accuse them of any want of worldly wisdom, or of their embracing that
self-denial and contempt of the world, which they were so ready to
condemn in the monks. They made laws and ordinances to support a new
religion, when they could enrich themselves by suppressing the _old_.”
“But,” continues this able writer, “the bright examples of the bishops
and clergy who submitted to the flames at that time, will appear more
illustrious when it is seen how just and rational was their opposition
to the worship then in use, as well as to the doctrine; the first having
in it as little of true piety and devotion, as the latter had of reason
and revealed truth. It was the blood of those men who could die for the
truth, that gave the new Establishment a firm and solid foundation, when
neither the will of the Prince nor the laws of his Parliaments could
have been able, without that cement, to effect a new construction and
edifice.”[79]

The Abbey of St. Albans has the credit of having introduced a printing
press soon after the invention of types; and may thus truly be said to
have fostered within itself the elements of its own dissolution. One of
the first works issued was by the lady prioress of the adjacent nunnery
of Sopwell, Dame Juliana Berners, who composed several treatises on
hawking, hunting, and heraldry, which were so well received that two
editions were printed at St. Albans, between 1481 and 1486.

<g>The local scenery</g> around St. Albans is pleasing, occasionally
picturesque, and, owing to its including the ancient Verulam, is never
without deep interest to all who have a knowledge of ancient history,
and a taste for antiquarian research.

The finest point of view is that which was chosen by the artist for the
steel engraving, namely--from the south near the walls of the ancient
city; the streets of which are still discernible in the green field, by
the thin short grass that covers them, and under which the Roman brick
yet retains its original bed. A great portion of the ancient
substructure, matted with weeds and shaded with trees and brushwood,
still invites the curious stranger, and offers him every facility for
investigation. But, except the horizontal layers of brick, mortar, and
shingle--the brick generally carbonized in the centre--there is nothing
left to repay investigation. The soil has been ransacked too effectually
by the antiquaries of monastic times to encourage further research; but
the situation will please every one who delights in classic
associations, while the Abbey, which crowns the adjoining eminence,
gives a rich hallowing interest to the whole scene:--

    “Whose Norman tower lifts its pinnacled spire:
     Where the long Abbey-aisle extends,
     And battled roof o’er roof ascends;
     Cornered with buttresses shapely and tall,
     That sheltered the Saint in canopied stall.”

[Illustration]

There is no single object, however, after the Abbey, half so attractive
as the old church of St. Michael’s, the sacred repository of the great
Lord Bacon. It is built within the precincts of the ancient city, and,
crowning a gentle undulation of the surface, forms a beautiful feature
in the landscape. The interior still preserves its simple antique
appearance, and is rich in sepulchral objects. It was founded about the
middle of the tenth century, by Abbot Ulsinus; and its massive piers and
plain semicircular arches still show unquestionable evidence of the
original Saxon architecture. It is kept remarkably neat, and has, what
we have rarely observed in other churches, small fire-places in several
of the family pews.

But the tomb and statue of Bacon soon arrest the eye, and claim, for a
time, the stranger’s undivided attention. The statue we need not
describe; it speaks for itself in the beauty of the sculpture, and in
the classic elegance of the inscription. But how appropriate are these
lines:--

    “Unfit to stand the civil storm of state,
     And through the rude barbarity of courts,
     With firm but pliant virtue, forward still
     To urge his course; him for the studious shade
     Kind nature form’d, deep, comprehensive, clear,
     Exact and elegant; in one rich soul,
     Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully joined.
     The great deliverer he! who, from the gloom
     Of cloister’d monks, and jargon-teaching schools,
     Led forth the true Philosophy, there long
     Held in the magic chain of words and forms.”--THOMSON.

Lord Bacon, “the illustrious subject of the following inscription, was
the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord-keeper of the great seal under
Elizabeth, who was married to Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony Cooke, a
lady of the most profound erudition and brilliant talents. Francis, the
illustrious son of such distinguished parents, was born in the year
1560, and even in his infancy gave indications of the most uncommon
abilities, united with the greatest and most unwearied assiduity in the
pursuit of knowledge and investigation of truth; his cleverness gained
him, even in his earliest youth, the admiration of Elizabeth. At
Cambridge, where

[Illustration:

     FRANCIS. BACON. BARO DE VERULAM. S. ALBANS VICᵐᵉˢ. SEU NOTIORIBUS
     TITULIS. SCIENTIARUM LUMEN. FACUNDIÆ LEX. SIC SEDEBAT. QUI.
     POSTQUAM OMNIA NATURALIS SAPIENTIÆ ET CIVILIS ARCANA EVOLVISSET
     NATURÆ DECRETUM EXPLEVIT--‘COMPOSITA SOLVANTUR’ Aⁿᵒ. Dⁿⁱ. MDCXXVI.
     ÆTAT. LXVI. TANTI VIRI MEM. THOMAS MEAUTYS SUPERSTITIS CULTOR
     DEFUNCTI ADMIRATOR. H. P.[80]
]

he completed his education, his talents obtained universal applause.
While prosecuting his studies at the university, he detected the
fallacies of the then customary mode of philosophizing, which at a more
mature age he published to the world, and laid down those laws which
opened the way to all the brilliant and surprising discoveries of modern
days. His university education being completed, he commenced his
travels, from which the unexpected death of his father suddenly recalled
him; upon which he applied himself to the study of the common law, at
Gray’s Inn, and soon elevated himself to the highest dignities of his
profession. But his character was not without a blemish--‘humanum est
errare;’ and even the illustrious Bacon fell from the giddying height he
had so proudly attained. After his disgrace, he applied himself wholly
to literary and philosophical pursuits, enriching the world with his
discoveries, and enlightening it by his reasonings. His love for
philosophy was the immediate cause of his death, of which the following
narrative is given by Aubrey, in his MSS., which are now deposited in
the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford:--

“The cause of his lordship’s death was trying an experiment as he was
taking the aire in the coach with Dr. Witherborne, a Scotchman,
physitian to the king, towards Highgate: snow lay upon the ground, and
it came into my lord’s thoughts, why flesh might not be preserved in
snow, as in salt. They were resolved they would try the experiment
presently. They alighted out of the coach, and went into a poor woman’s
house at the bottome of Highgate-hill, and bought a hen, and made the
woman exenterate it, and then stuffed the body with snow; and my lord
did help to do it himself. The snow so chilled him he immediately fell
so ill, that he could not return to his lodgings (I suppose then at
Gray’s Inn), but went to the Earl of Arundell’s house at Highgate, where
they put him into a good bed, warmed with a panne; but it was a damp
bed, that had not been lain in for about a yeare before, which gave him
such a cold, that in two or three days, as I remember he told me, he
died of suffocation.”--Topographical Library, page 113-5.

<g>Sopwell Nunnery</g> is thus described in the History of the Abbey. It was
founded by “Abbot Geoffry about 1140, on his observing two poor women
dwelling there in a wretched hut of their own constructing, and living a
most austere life on bread and water, and in regular devotion to God.
Their piety induced him to build a house for their comfortable living;
and to bestow on them some possessions. He appointed also a chapel and a
church-yard; ordaining that none should be buried there except the nuns;
none to be admitted into that house but maidens; and the number not to
exceed thirteen.

“Henry de Albini or Albeney, of the house of Todenei, gave to this house
two hides of land, with his wife’s consent, in their manor of Cotes, in
Beaulieu. His son Robert, and his mother Cicely, gave a rood more, in
the same manor. Richard de Tany, or Todenei, gave them the land called
Black hides in Ridge parish.

“Abbot Michael, about 1338, ordained certain rules for the regulation of
this house, and enjoined a better order and observance than they had
before practised. They are as follows: 1. That the commemoration of St.
Alban should be kept as usual. 2. That no more than three nuns should
sit in the chapter. 3. That silence be observed, as by the rule of St.
Benedict, in the church or chapel, in the cloister, in the refectory,
and the dormitory. 4. That a little bell do ring in the morning, as
notice to rise and appear; and that none leave the dormitory before the
bell rings. 5. That the garden door be not opened (for walking) before
the hour of prime, or first hour of devotion; and in summer, that the
garden and the parlour doors be not opened until the hour of none (nine)
in the morning; and to be always shut when the corfue rings. 6. That no
sister hold conversation in the parlour without her cowl on, and her
face covered with her veil. 7. That tailors, or other artists, be
persons of good character, but to work in some place assigned them
without the monastery; and never to be admitted into chambers or other
private places. 8. That if any sister be under a sentence of penance,
this shall not exclude her from the duties of the church. 9. The sick to
be kept in the infirmary. 10. No nun to lodge out of the house; and no
guest within it. 11. All the sisters to be present at the mass of our
Lady.”--History of St. Albans, page 468.

[Illustration]

Returning from the ruins of Sopwell, we take a parting view of the great
west entrance to the Abbey Church, the principal features of which we
have already noticed, page 94. The ground in front of the porch is
entirely occupied as a public cemetery; but none of its sepulchral
antiquities are of a character to demand particular notice as works of
art.

The ceremony represented in the woodcut is the “distribution of alms,”
which usually took place at the church door, on particular festivals,
when “give-ale” and the “dole” drew together the neighbouring poor. The
“give-ale,” so called, was distributed on anniversaries, often with
bread and other dole, to the poor, for which purpose land had been left
to the church by the person whose birth-day, saint’s-day, or burial-day,
was to be commemorated. Anniversaries were sometimes kept on the
birth-day of a donor, during his life-time, or on the saint’s-day of the
church where it was appointed. The doles of money and bread were
distributed at some altar in the church, or at the tomb of a deceased
benefactor. The “give-ale,” being chiefly allotted to great festivals,
was usually distributed in the church-porch, where the people assembled,
and where they sometimes remained wassailing in the church-yard till it
became a scene of merriment and tumult. Some of these anniversaries, as
it is well known, gave rise to Fairs, which were once most improperly
held in churchyards.--Gaston de Blondeville, vol. iv. p. 68.

[Illustration]

In the preceding notice of St. Albans, the narrow limits assigned to
this work has made it necessary to confine our sketches and observations
to the more striking features of the Abbey and its vicinity. Where the
materials are so abundant and inviting, and where only a few
characteristic portions can be admitted, their selection must be always
attended with more or less difficulty; but in the present instance, it
is hoped, the order of subjects has been so arranged as to present the
reader with a faithful picture of the Abbey as it now is, and such as,
with the vast improvements in contemplation, it may continue to be for
ages to come. For the lives and acts of its “forty abbots and one,” we
must refer our readers to the chronicles of the Abbey, and the other
sources of information hereunto annexed.

“Now closes the scene; and here,” in the words of the historian, “may we
behold fallen and set for ever the glory and splendour of this and all
other of those religious corporations, which, with most pious intentions
in the founders, with general good conduct in the rulers, with most
grateful acceptance in the sober and virtuous of all ranks, had provided
for the wants and necessities of men; and the revenues, which had
cheered the hearts of the naked and hungry, now turned out of the
channel of hospitality and beneficence, to be dissipated and wasted in
the voluptuous pleasures and base gratifications of the court and its
followers.”

    “Here forty <g>abbots</g> have ruled and one,
     Twenty with palle and mitre on,
     And bowed them to the Pope alone.
     Their hundred monks, in black arrayed,
     The Benedictine rules obeyed;
     O’er distant lands they held their sway;
     Freed from Peter’s-pence were they;
     The gift of palle from Pope they claimed,
     And cardinal-abbots were they named;
     And even old Canterbury’s lord
     Was long refused the premier board;
     For this was the first British martyr’s bier,
     And the Pope said ‘His priest shall have no peer.’
     Now know ye <g>St. Alban’s</g> bones rest here!
     Kings and heroes here were guests
     In stately halls, at solemn feasts.
     But now, nor dais nor halls remain;
     Nor fretted window’s gorgeous pane
     Twilight illuminated throws,
     Where once the high-served banquet rose.”--ANNE RADCLIFFE.

[Illustration]

APPENDIX.[81]--1. The present roof of the Abbey was erected at the
expense of Abbot Whethamstead, after the original, which is said to have
been of stone, had been blown down in a tempest. The “Wallingford
Screen” was built, in 1480, by the Abbot of that name, at an expense of
eleven hundred marks. It reaches from the ground to the eastern window,
and for beauty and magnitude is said to surpass everything else of the
kind in Europe. It was adorned, in the palmy days of the Abbey, with “a
profusion of gold and silver ornaments;” but in its present condition,
stripped of all such glittering ornaments, and its elegant simplicity so
much more apparent, it is thus “unadorned, adorned the most.”

2. The Abbey Church of St. Albans was “chiefly erected by Paul, the
first Norman Abbot, early in the reign of William Rufus, at which period
the edifice erected by Offa had become extremely ruinous. The Norman
architecture is consequently preserved in the greater part of the
building, particularly in the choir, nave, transepts, and great tower;
but a very considerable portion has been rebuilt in the various styles
of the times when repairs became necessary, the particulars of which may
be seen in the lives of the different Abbots. For the purposes of
repair, the materials were chiefly furnished by the ruins of Verulam;
among which was a profusion of Roman brick.”--Archt. of St. Albans.

3. We are aware of the difference of opinion which once subsisted among
writers as to the true era and character of the round and pointed arches
which distinguish the Abbey Church. But the round arches which were
formerly considered Norman, have been lately, we understand, pronounced
Saxon by a distinguished architect, who has bestowed great pains in the
investigation; and has at last, it is to be hoped, settled the question

    “And proved, when Mercian Offa was anointed,
     Arches were broad and round--not lancet-pointed.”

4. P. 87.--The epitaph on the two hermits, Roger and Sigarius, states,
that thinking themselves unworthy to rest within the church, they chose
a resting-place in the wall below. Legendary inscriptions on the
clustered pillars are still dimly visible through the modern whitewash.

[Illustration: ARMS OF ST. ALBANS.]

5. This Abbey Church, venerable alike for its antiquity, and admirable
for its design and workmanship, “possesses all the magnitude and dignity
of the largest Cathedral. It is cruciform, measures from east to west,
including the Lady Chapel, six hundred and six feet in length; the
extreme breadth, at the intersection of the transepts, is two hundred
and seventeen feet. The height of the body is sixty-five feet, and that
of the tower is one hundred and forty-four feet.”

     AUTHORITIES:--M.
     Paris.--Grafton.--Harding.--Holinshed.--Speed.--Camden.--Archæologia.--Newcome.--Clutterbuck.--Topography
     of Great Britain.--Guide to St. Albans Abbey.--St.
     Augustine.--Radcliffe’s St. Albans Abbey.--Holcroft’s Margaret of
     Anjou.--Memoir of Lord Bacon.--Blome’s
     Britannia.--Weever.--Willis.--Tyrrell.--Burnet.--Dugdale.--Visit to
     St. Albans, January 1842, MS. Notes by an Artist, MS.

     The Society of Antiquaries has published very splendid illustrative
     plans, elevations, and sections of the Abbey Church of St. Albans.

[Illustration: HALL OF ELTHAM PALACE.

A.D. 1365.

LONDON. GEORGE VIRTUE.]




[Illustration: INTERIOR OF ELTHAM HALL.

MDCCCXLII.]




ELTHAM PALACE,

<g>Kent</g>.

    Qui, dans ces temps affreux de discorde et d’alarmes
    Vit les grands coups de lance et les nobles faits d’armes
    De nos preux chevaliers, des “Bayards,” des Henris;
    Aujourd’hui la moisson flotte sur ses débris!
    Ces débris, cette triste et mâle architecture
    Qu’environné une fraiche et riante verdure.


The royal palace of Eltham is a subject which has often engaged the
historian’s pen and the pencil of the artist; and, as intimately
associated with many national events, it possesses an interest to which
neither the lapse of time nor its own decay can ever render us
indifferent. A visit to the “old Hall of Eltham,” forms one of those
incidents in life to which we look back with as much pleasure as the
pilgrim was wont to do after he had paid his devotions at the “shrine of
our Lady of Walsingham.” Every feature in this primitive abode of kings,
this favourite resort of our native princes, arrests attention, and
carries us back into the days of chivalry and romance. While sauntering
through its deserted, and, as we may truly say, its desecrated court,
imagination delights to expatiate among those recorded scenes of court
festivity, military fêtes, and national solemnities, of which it has so
often been the scene. The very echoes which, if at all disturbed, now
only reply to the thresher’s song or the lowing of cattle, were once
roused into loud and long-continued reverberations by the plaudits of
knights within, and popular acclamations from without. In the twilight,
the dim figures of its long line of possessors seem to flit before our
eyes; while the mind is busily occupied in filling up the picture, from
the days of Edward the Confessor down to those of James the First:

    “Again, again, along the wizard’s glass,
     In waving plumes they reappear and pass.”

It is gratifying to think that, whilst the plough may be said to have
passed over many of our classic and historical sites, the Hall of Eltham
is still spared. The ground on which it stands is sacred in the eyes of
every patriot: it is an interesting field of study for the artist and
antiquary; and in beauty of situation challenges the admiration of the
most ordinary observer. Its position on a gently elevated surface,
commanding a fine view in nearly every direction, surrounded by an
extensive chase, and in the immediate vicinity of the capital, made
Eltham highly eligible as an occasional residence for the sovereign. But
the surrounding country has undergone so many alterations, Eltham itself
is so shrunk, dilapidated, and “curtailed of its fair proportions,” that
it is impossible to form a just estimate of what it must have been
during the feudal period; adorned, as it undoubtedly was, with all the
embellishments of art, inhabited by kings, with “kings for their
guests,” and frequented by the élite of English beauty and chivalry.

Enough remains, however, to fill a long summer day with agreeable
amusement and profitable entertainment; and to those who take pleasure
in contemplating such monuments of the regal sway in England, the old
palace of Eltham has attractions peculiarly its own.

Nearly all the writers who have given their attention to the topography
of Eltham and its vicinity, complain of the great want of authentic
records, for the satisfactory elucidation of its early history. This is
a subject of much regret; obscurity is intimately connected with the
origin of the place; the documents which we possess consist chiefly of
those casual notices embodied in the old Chronicles, where the subject
is of only secondary consideration, and often merely alluded to by way
of illustration. During the last twenty years, particularly since the
discoveries of some subterranean passages within the walls, Eltham has
been a subject of frequent description in the periodicals[82] of the
day; and that frequency is a proof how much it has attracted, and still
continues to attract, the public attention.

In the well-known county histories of Kent, as well as in all the
topographical works which we have seen, the description of Eltham is
given in nearly the same words, each successive writer contenting
himself with what he has read, rather than what he had personally
observed in the venerable ruin itself. We are far from presuming to do
much more than our predecessors in the same walk; but, as the objects of
our study and research are chiefly to ascertain and retail what has been
_done_, rather than what is to be seen at Eltham, we shall, as usual,
willingly avail ourselves of the old chronicles as our principal
authorities, and, avoiding mere technical description, endeavour to
bring the subject home to the mind and eye of the reader. But whilst to
a certain class of readers we can only address the following well-known
lines--

    “Oisifs de nos cités, dont la mollesse extrême
     Ne veut que ces plaisirs où l’on fuit soi-même,
     Qui craignez de sentir, d’éveiller vos langueurs,
     Ces tableaux éloquents sont muets pour vous”--

to another, a more congenial fraternity, we can speak with confidence,
and calculate on their sympathy and support:

    “Mais toi, qui des beaux-arts sens les flammes divines,
     Ton âme entend la voix des cercueils, des ruines;
     De la destruction recherchant les travaux,
     Des états écroulés tu fouilles les tombeaux.
     Tu lis, le cœur saisi d’un agréable effroi,
     La marche de ce temps qui roule aussi sur toi;
     Quel livre à ton génie offrent de tels décombres!”

Eltham, anciently written Ealdham and Aletham, carries a proof of its
antiquity in the very name, which is a compound of two Saxon words
signifying the old home, town, or dwelling; “heim,” being still the
modern German word used to express the same meaning, and, with some
characteristic prefix, is frequent in Saxon topography. But this is so
well known as scarcely to require a passing remark. Bounded by
Greenwich, Woolwich, Plumsted, and Kidbrook on the north; by Bexley on
the east; Chiselhurst and Mottingham on the south, and the picturesque
village of Lee on the west, Eltham enjoys most of the advantages that
result from a position in the centre of a rich cultivated neighbourhood.

[Illustration]

The manor of Eltham is said to have existed as a royal demesne in the
time of Edward the Confessor; to have been given by William the
Conqueror to one of his family, Odo Earl of Kent, and Bishop of
Bayeux,[83] after whose disgrace and banishment, it reverted partly to
the crown and partly to the Norman family of Mandeville, from whom it
took the name of Eltham-Mandeville. That portion which fell to the crown
was, according to Dugdale, given by Edward the First to John de Vesci,
who was related to queen Eleanor by his marriage with Isabel de
Beaumont, and afterwards, by an exchange of other lands with Walter de
Mandeville, became sole proprietor of the manor. We shall not, however,
detain our readers by tracing the descent with genealogical minuteness.
From the Vesci family it passed into that of de Ayton--thence to Scroop
of Masham; who afterwards presented it to queen Isabel in 1318, or
probably a year later. About the middle of the following century, it was
granted to Robert Dauson for seven years; and in the beginning of his
reign, Henry the Eighth bestowed it successively upon Sir Henry
Guildford, Comptroller of the Household, and Sir Thomas Speke. By Edward
the Sixth it was granted to Sir John Gates, lieutenant of the Tower,
who was afterwards executed for high-treason; and down to the close of
Queen Elizabeth’s reign, it was successively held of the crown by
William Cromer and Lord Cobham. On the accession of King Charles the
First, it was held in lease by the Earl of Dorset; but in the time of
the Commonwealth, Eltham manor was seized by the Parliament, and, along
with the manor-house then called Eltham Place, and great part of the
demesne lands, was valued and sold to Nathaniel Rich of Fulham. At the
restoration a renewal of the lease was obtained on purchase, by Sir John
Shaw.--For these brief particulars we are indebted to an “Account of
Eltham,” printed about fifty years ago, and drawn up from standard
authorities on the subject.

We shall next advert to the historical incidents which connect Eltham
Palace with the record of public transactions, while it was the
residence of successive monarchs, and the resort of all who were most
distinguished in the court history of their day; and then conclude with
a brief account of it as it now appears, with all its “venerable scars
and chronicled events” clustered together under the roof of its ancient
Hall.

During the reign of the early monarchs, and more particularly during
that of Henry the Third, Edward the First, and Richard the Second,
Eltham appears to have been the _locale_ chosen for the celebration of
those court pageantries, and gorgeous festivals of the church, which
softened the sterner features of the age, smoothed asperities, and
brought the serf into friendly communion with his suzerain. In 1270,
Henry the Third and his queen, attended by all the chief men of the
state, kept open court at Eltham during the Christmas holidays, making
merry with their attendant lords and ladies, and dispensing much
generous hospitality to strangers.

Anthony Beck, Bishop of Durham and Patriarch of Jerusalem, who died at
Eltham in 1311, is said to have expended great treasure on the fresh
“edification and adornment” of the palace. He “builded,” says Stow, “the
manor house, and gave it to the queen;” but this, as appears from “the
statement given in the descent of the manor,” it was not in his power to
have done. “Beck,” says the author of a paper on this subject, already
quoted,[84] was a trustee under the will of William de Vesci; and the
only way in which the fact can be reconciled is, by supposing him to
have betrayed his trust, and to have obtained fraudulent possession of
the estate.” “This prelate,” says Mr. Hutchinson, in his History of
Durham, “merits notice for the singularity of his character; he led the
van of Edward the First’s army gallantly against the Scots, at the
battle of Falkirk, and dared even to make a harsh retort to a reproof
from that stern monarch. At Rome, he opposed single-handed a body of
ruffians who had entered his house. So active was his mind, that he
always rose when his first sleep was over, saying ‘It was beneath a man
to turn in his bed.’ He was so modest, that although he smiled at the
frown of a king, he never could lift his eyes to the face of a woman;
and when the remains of Saint William were to be removed to York, he was
the only prelate whose ‘conscious chastity’ permitted him to touch the
sacred bones. And yet this mirror of purity could defraud the natural
son of his friend, the Lord Vesci, of a large estate which had been
trusted to the Bishop’s honour.[85] Beck loved military parade and had
always knights and soldiers about him, and through vanity was prompted
to spend immense sums. For forty fresh herrings he once gave a sum equal
to forty pounds sterling; and a piece of cloth, which had proverbially
been said to be ‘too dear for the Bishop of Durham,’ he bought and cut
out into horse-cloths. To conclude--this haughty prelate once seized a
palfrey of King Edward as a deodand; and at last broke his heart at
being excommunicated by the Archbishop of York.”

[Illustration]

Eltham was also the favourite residence of Edward the Second, whose son
being born here, received the name of John of Eltham: a circumstance in
which originated the common error of its having been the palace of King
John. At twelve years of age, this prince was created Earl of Cornwall;
was appointed “custos of the citie of London:” died in Scotland in the
flower of his age, and was buried in Westminster, where his monument is
one of the chief sepulchral ornaments.

It was here, in his palace of Eltham, that Edward the Third held several
parliaments; in one of which his faithful commons petitioned him to make
his grandson, Richard of Bordeaux, Prince of Wales. In 1364, the same
monarch gave a splendid banquet at Eltham, in honour of King John of
France, whom the fate of war had made his prisoner, but whose captivity
was soothed by every demonstration of respect and hospitality on the
part of his royal brother and his consort. “The court of this
sovereign,” says Warner, “was the very theatre of sumptuous carousal and
romantic elegance. The martial amusements of tilts and tournaments,
which were always accompanied by splendid feasts, were so much
encouraged, that we have instances of their being solemnly celebrated by
royal command, in different cities, no less than seven times in the
course of one year.” “This gentle king of England,” says Froissart, “the
better to feste these strange lordes and all their company, held a great
court on Trinity Monday in the Friers, whereat he and the queene his
mother were lodged, keeping their house eche of them apart. At this
feaste, the king had well five hundred knights, and fifteen were new
made. And the queene had well in her courte sixty ladies and damozelles.
There might be seen great nobles, plenty of all manner of straunge
vitaile. There were ladies and damozelles freshely apparelled, ready to
have daunced if they might have leave.” The above, though applied by
Froissart to the reception of John of Hainault, was a general feature in
the court life of this period; and it is no wonder that King John of
France, whom Prince Edward had pronounced “the bravest of knights,”
found the weight of captivity much lightened in the congenial atmosphere
of Eltham palace.

The evening of Edward’s reign, however, exhibited a very different
picture. Feast and tournament were gone, or rather the pleasures which
they had once furnished to that chivalrous monarch during a long
protracted reign, had now lost their zest. He spent the last months of
his life between Eltham palace and his manor at Shene. “Decay,” says the
historian, “had fallen heavy on body and spirit; he was incapable of
doing much, and he did nothing. The ministers and courtiers crowded
round the Duke of Lancaster, Prince Richard, and his mother. The old man
was left to his mistress; and even she, it is said, after drawing his
valuable ring from his finger, abandoned him in his dying moments,”

The splendour of Eltham, however, was speedily revived in the person of
his grandson, Richard the Second, whose reign, dazzling at its
commencement, inglorious in its course, and disastrous at its close, the
poet Gray has thus strikingly depicted:--

    “Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
        While proudly riding o’er the azure realm,
      In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
        Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
      Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind’s sway,
     That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

    “Fill high the sparkling bowl!
        The rich repast prepare;
      Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast.
        Close by the regal chair,
      Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
     A baneful smile upon their baffled guest.”

Of the numerous historical scenes and incidents connected with King
Richard’s sumptuous court at Eltham, a very few may be here introduced
as characteristic of an age when “the example of the monarch sanctioned
the extravagance of the subject.” He celebrated in particular three
Christmases at Eltham, at which every imaginable entertainment was
provided for a court overflowing with all the beauty and chivalry that
could flatter a monarch, and scatter flowers over the dangerous
precipice to which he was hastening. “The king,” says Hollinshed, “kept
the greatest part, and maintained the most plentiful house that ever any
king in England did, either before his time or since; for there resorted
daily to his court above ten thousand persons, that had meat and drinke
there allowed them. In his kitchen there were three hundred servitors,
and every other officer was furnished after the like rate. Of ladies,
chamberers, and landerers, there were above three hundred at the least;
and in precious and costlie apparell they exceeded all measure.

[Illustration]

Yeomen and groomes were clothed in silks, with cloth of graine and
skarlet, over sumptuous, ye may be sure, for their estates. And this
vanitie was not onelie used in the court in those dayes, but also other
people abroad, in the townes and countries, had their garments cut far
otherwise than had been accustomed before his daies, with embroderies,
rich furs, and goldsmith’s worke, and everie daie there was devising of
new fashions, to the great hinderance and decaie of the
commonwealth.”--Page 508, sect. 10.

From this description, the reader may easily picture what must have been
the splendid profusion which marked King Richard’s doings at Eltham,
when arriving with his gorgeous retinue from the capital, he “courted
repose” in a new and most extravagant series of festivities. The
extensive park, which spread its wooded avenues in all directions,
afforded ample scope for the indulgence in silvan sports; while
minstrels, jesters, and jongleurs drove ennui from the gate, and kept
the monarch and his guests in a continued enjoyment of mirthful
excitement. On one of these occasions, the arrival in England of a guest
of no ordinary station was announced, and on the following day was
received by the king and queen at Eltham. “This,” says Speed, “was Leo,
King of Armenia, a Christian prince, whom the Tartars had expelled out
of his kingdom. The pretence of his negotiation was to accord the realms
of England and France, that the princes thereof might, with joint
forces, remove the common enemy from Christendome. Therein he could
effect nothing; but his journey was not otherwise unfruitful to himself;
for King Richard, a prince, to speak truly, full of honour and bountie,
gave him, besides a thousand pounds in a ship of gold, letters patent,
also, for a thousand pounds yearly pension during life.”

Eltham Palace was also the scene of the following incident in the court
life of King Richard. “The king having proclaimed that he would hold a
solemn feast at his palace here on Palm Sunday, invitations were sent to
the Dukes of Lancaster and York, and the Lords of the Council, to be in
attendance for the occasion. When the day of the feast was arrived, and
all the lords had retired after dinner with the king to his
council-chamber, Earl Marshal, having settled in his own mind how to act
and what to say, threw himself upon his knees before the king and thus
addressed him:--‘Very dear and renowned Lord, I am of your kindred,
yʳliege man and marshal of England; and I have besides sworn on my
loyalty, my hand within yours, that I never would conceal from you
anything I might hear or see to your prejudice, on pain of being
accounted a disloyal traitor. This I am resolved never to be, but to
acquit myself before you and all the world.’ The king fixing his eyes
upon him, said, ‘Earl Marshal, what is your meaning in speaking thus? We
will know it.’ ‘Very dear Lord,’ replied the Earl, ‘as I have declared,
I will not keep any secret from you: order the Earl of Derby to come to
yʳpresence, and I will speak out.’ The Earl of Derby was called for,
and the king made the Earl Marshal rise, for he addressed him on his
knees. On the Earl Derby’s arrival, who thought no harm, the Earl
Marshal spoke as follows:--‘Earl of Derby, I charge you with having
thought and spoken disrespectfully of your natural lord the king of
England, when you said he was unworthy to hold the crown; that without
law or justice, or consulting his council, he disturbed the realm; and
that without any shadow of reason, he banished those valiant men from
his kingdom who ought to be its defenders; for all of which I present my
glove, and will prove, my body against yours, that you are a false and
wicked traitor.’

“The Earl of Derby was confounded at this address, and retired a few
paces without demanding from the Duke his father, or any of his friends,
how he should act. Having mused awhile, he advanced with his hood in his
hand towards the king, and said, ‘Earl Marshal, I say that thou art a
false and wicked traitor, which I will boldly prove on thee, and here is
my glove!’ The Earl Marshal seeing his challenge was accepted, showed a
good desire for the combat by taking up the glove and saying, ‘I refer
your answer to the good pleasure of the king and the lords now present.
I will prove that your words are false, and that my words are true.’
Each of those lords then withdrew in company of his friends, and the
time for serving wine and spices was passed by; for the king showed he
was sore displeased, and retiring to his chamber, shut himself in....
When the day for the combat was at hand, and the two lords waited only
for the king’s commands, King Richard’s secret advisers asked, ‘Sire,
what is your pleasure respecting this combat? will you permit your two
cousins the Earl of Derby and Earl Marshal to proceed?’ ‘Why not?’
replied the king; ‘I intend to be present myself and see their prowess.’
The king’s advisers showed great firmness in resisting his
determination, and showed him some very cogent and unexpected reasons
for his adopting another course, at which,” as the chronicler relates,
“the king changed colour. Shortly after, a great council of the chief
nobles and prelates was summoned at Eltham. The Earl of Derby and the
Earl Marshal were sent for and put into separate chambers, for they were
not permitted to meet, when after certain preliminaries the king’s
pleasure was thus delivered in presence of the assembly: ‘I order that
the Earl Marshal, for having caused trouble in this kingdom, by uttering
words which he could not prove otherwise than by common report, be
banished the realm for life. I also order that the Earl of Derby our
cousin, for having angered us, and because he has been in some measure
the cause of the Earl Marshal’s crime and punishment, prepare to leave
the kingdom in fifteen days, and be banished hence for the term of ten
years.’” Our readers will find other particulars in Froissart; but our
chief inducement in selecting these passages is, their being scenes
which actually transpired at Eltham, and at the same time are highly
characteristic of the manners of that age. We ought not to omit
mentioning, however, that “on the day the Earl of Derby mounted his
horse to leave London, upwards of fifty thousand men were in the
streets, bitterly lamenting his departure.”

In 1405, King Henry the Fourth “celebrated his Christmas” here, after
the manner of his predecessors; and on this occasion, says the
chronicle, the Duke of York was “accused of an intention of breaking
into the palace, by scaling the walls, and murdering the king.” The same
monarch kept open court at Eltham on two subsequent occasions, and was
residing in the palace when seized with the malady of which he died. But
these festivals were celebrated with even more than former splendour by
King Henry the Sixth. By Edward the Fourth the palace was repaired and
embellished at great expense; and here his daughter Bridget
Plantagenet--who became a nun of Dartford--was born, and next day
baptized in the palace chapel by the Bishop of Winchester. Three years
later, Eltham palace was again the scene of magnificent banquets and
shows, during which two thousand persons were daily entertained at the
king’s expense. King Henry the Seventh built the front of the palace
towards the moat, and frequently resided in it; but he was the last of a
long race of sovereigns who honoured it with any lengthened visit; for
although Henry the Eighth[86] celebrated two Christmases here, the royal
visits had now become “few and far between;” and one of the last
occasions on which the palace was made the scene of a great court
festival, was that appointed for his conferring the honours of the
peerage upon Sir Edward Stanley, of Hornby Castle, in Lancashire, whose
services at the battle of Flodden have already been noticed in these
pages.

His claims to that honour were founded on his being “one of the most
discreet persons, and justices of the peace, for assessing and
collecting a subsidy of one hundred and sixty-three thousand pounds by a
poll-tax;” of his having commanded the rear of the English army at
Flodden-field, and forced the Scots, by the power of his archers, to
descend the hill, which, by causing them to open their ranks, gave the
first hopes of that day’s victory.[87] The ceremonial on this occasion
was stamped with all the gorgeous display so usual in that reign; but as
a contagious disorder was then raging in London, none were permitted to
dine at the “king’s hall at Eltham,” except the officers of arms, who,
“at the serving in of the king’s second course of meat, entered,
according to custom, and proclaimed the king’s style and title, and also
that of the new lord.”

During the civil war, Robert Earl of Essex occupied the palace of
Eltham, and dying here, was buried in Westminster Abbey. On the
establishment of the Commonwealth, it was seized by the Parliament, and
sold; the parks were broken into, the deer dispersed or killed by the
soldiers and the mob; and the work of devastation once begun, continued
till the greater part of the palace was reduced to a state of ruin.[88]

[Illustration]

At last, however, the beauty of Greenwich and the great convenience of
the river as a channel of communication with the capital, gradually
deprived Eltham of court patronage. Its palace was only enlivened at
long intervals by the presence of royalty; while its rival, the new
Placentia, grew more and more in favour, till it became the habitual
residence of the sovereign, and the scene of those splendid exhibitions
which subsequently characterized the reigns of Henry the Eighth[89] and
his magnanimous daughter, Queen Elizabeth. The latter, during her
infancy, was often taken to the “Old House of Eltham” for change of air;
and on coming to the throne, paid it an occasional visit of recognition.
But it was no longer considered fit for a royal establishment; and,
although visited by King James and his successor, it never regained any
share of its former importance; but, being every year more and more
neglected, it became at last a splendid ruin, yet a monument on which
were inscribed the early chronicles of the English monarchy. But,
although the property reverted to the crown at the Restoration, no
pains were taken by government to protect the ruin from violence and
spoliation. On the contrary, the old palace was turned into a quarry,
and all the materials that could be converted to use were gradually
removed and sold. Fortunately for the Hall, it was considered by some
influential observer on the spot that it would make a good barn;[90] and
to this accidental circumstance we are chiefly indebted for its
preservation.

The three parks attached to the palace, with the demesne lands, extended
over sixteen hundred and fifty-two acres, on which grew seven thousand
seven hundred trees; of which four thousand were declared in the Survey
to be “old and decayed,” and the remainder were marked out for the use
of the navy.[91] A book, called the Mysteries of the Good Old Cause,
published in 1660, says, “Sir Thomas Walsingham had the Honour of Eltham
given him, which was the Earl of Dorset’s, and the middle Park, which
was Mr. White’s. He has cut down five thousand pounds’ worth of timber,
and has scarcely left a tree to make a gibbet.”

[Illustration]

<g>The Approach.</g>--The royal Hall is visible at a considerable distance;
and, from various points of Blackheath and its vicinity, forms an
interesting landmark to the stranger. This, however, is chiefly during
the winter and spring months; for as soon as the trees resume their
foliage, it is lost among the wooded landscape, or only seen by glimpses
through the straggling trees of the park--remnants of that primeval
forest by which it was once surrounded. In the immediate approach, the
first objects that catch the eye are masses of ancient wall, thickly
mantled with ivy, at the base of which the water of the original moat
still keeps its bed. Over this, an ancient bridge of three arches leads
to the inclosure, once covered with the habitations of royalty, but now
reduced to this solitary hall, and flanked on the left by several
dwelling-houses, that harmonize much better with our modern ideas of
comfort than the moated walls of antiquity. Halting on the bridge for a
few minutes, the effect of the scene from that point is at once
pleasing and impressive. On the left, overhanging the moat, which here
forms a very small but picturesque sheet of water,[92] is a modern
farm-house in a pleasing rustic style, with a balcony supported on
slender pillars that rest on the edge of the fosse below. On the margin
of the water opposite, is a small fresh lawn, bordered with shrubbery,
and covered with that _beau gazon_ on which the eye delights to repose.
This spot, including the house, a projecting gallery, and several other
compartments, presents an excellent subject for a cabinet picture. The
bank of the moat was an extensive work, and of much greater magnitude on
the west and south sides than towards the north, composing a terrace to
the south of at least one hundred feet broad.

The design of the palace[93] was quadrangular. The hall, surmounted by
its louvre, rose above the other edifices, standing in a direction
nearly due east and west; and the common rule was observed of limiting
the general elevation to two stories. Like other castellated mansions,
the outline was irregular, towers and projecting masses breaking the
line at intervals with picturesque effect. The area of the palace was an
imperfect square, surrounded by buildings on the north and west, and
partly inclosed on the other two sides, the centre being occupied by
four quadrangles, of which two towards the west were of large
dimensions, and formed wide and spacious courts. Standing on an eminence
of greater elevation than any in the immediate district except
Shooter’s-hill, the ground sloped gently away towards the west, over a
rich and interesting landscape, including Blackheath, Greenwich Park,
and the Surrey hills, between which stood London with the lofty spire of
the old cathedral of St. Paul in view, and the insulated pile of
Westminster Abbey, then without towers; the distant heights of Highgate
terminating the background. It was surrounded by a moat inclosing above
an acre of ground within its limits.[94] The moat was about sixty feet
broad, except the portion towards the north entrance, where it was
increased to one hundred and fifteen feet. On the west side of the
bridge, the water of the moat still washed the old ivyed walls of the
palace--now reduced to little more than the foundations. In front,
through a few straggling elm-trees, the venerable old Hall presents
itself. The avenue to the door is flanked by two cottages, evidently
built out of the old materials of the palace, and now posted like
sentinels for the protection of its remains. In one of these resides the
female custode of the hall, who reaps no inconsiderable harvest from
the visitors who resort hither for a view of “King John’s Palace,” as it
is called.

[Illustration]

<g>Visit.</g>--Conducted by our guide, we once more entered the royal Hall of
Eltham, with such feelings as naturally accompany those who are treading
on that time-hallowed ground where history, tradition, and fiction, have
impressed their respective seals. Entering the door, a screen, once
elaborately carved, and running across the building, opens a
thoroughfare to a corresponding entrance on the opposite side. In the
centre of the screen is an inner door to the hall. Of the latter, the
noble proportions strike the visitor at the first glance, and challenge
his admiration. In its present state, however, the general effect is
much injured by the very means employed for its security,--namely, the
heavy wooden frame-work raised to support the roof, but which conceals
the beauty of its proportions. With this, however, we must not find
fault; some of the noblest statues of antiquity have been obliged to
support their dignity by “accepting modern pedestals;” and without the
means here ingeniously employed, the Hall of Eltham must long ere this
have been laid open to the weather. In the sixth volume of the
Archæologia, Mr. King has given minute descriptions of the Hall, to
which we refer our readers.

<g>The Screen</g>, already mentioned as running before the offices, was richly
carved, with a gallery over it for the musicians. Through this door
entered the guests who were not in immediate attendance upon the king.
Here the brave and the beautiful of other days were received by the
great officers of state, and conducted to the dais, where, on his
throne, the monarch received their homage and congratulations. The two
great bow-windows at either side of

[Illustration]

the upper end, in which were placed the royal sideboards, are adorned
with beautiful flowing tracery, and in style and proportions are
magnificent. All the windows were obviously placed in such a manner as
to afford an opportunity of hanging arras under them,[95] as in the
banquet scene represented in the steel engraving. The length of the Hall
is rather more than a hundred feet, the breadth thirty-six, and the
height forty-five feet. It has five double windows on each side,
exclusive of the great bays, at the end of which was the chief entrance
into the state apartments.

The purposes of a common barn, to which this magnificent hall has been
so long applied, have materially altered and defaced some of its noblest
features. One of the gorgeous oriels, for example, that opened to the
east and west, has been partly broken and cut away in order to admit
loaded waggons into the interior; and various other mutilations, the
effects of violence, not time, are observable in other parts of the
building. But our regrets on this head give way to something like a
feeling of congratulation, when we reflect that, had not this change in
its destination occurred, the Hall of Eltham would have long since
disappeared, like the original palace to which it belonged. At the upper
or north end of the building was the high dais, slightly elevated, and
running across the hall. This is now the threshing-floor; and at both
ends of this platform, east and west, are the magnificent bay windows
above mentioned, each forming a deep recess, and exhibiting, in design
and workmanship, all the characteristic beauty of its class and epoch.
The most cursory view will enable the reader to judge of their shape and
proportions; but to form any adequate conception of what they must have
been when filled with richly-stained glass, and pouring a flood of
gorgeous colours upon the royal banquet, requires no little effort of
the imagination.

    “There the raised platform, near the bay,
     Served well for stage: that oriel gay
     Rose with light leaves and columns tall
     Mid ‘roial glass’ and fretwork small;
     While tripod lamps from the coved roof
     Showed well each painted mask aloof:
     Lanfranc and Saxon Edward there
     Watching the scene they once could share.”

[Illustration]

<g>The Roof.</g>--The following observations on the construction of the roof
were given by Mr. Chessel Buckler while the last repairs were going on.
The preservation of this noble monument of ancient English architecture
is an honour to the country. When stripped of its external covering, the
roof distinctly exhibited the beauty of its carpentry, and the extent of
its injuries. It is wholly constructed of chestnut, the strength and
solidity of which, though unimpaired by time alone, were in many places
destroyed by the operations of the weather.[96] The main beams of the
roof are full seventeen inches square and twenty-eight feet long,
perfectly straight, and sound throughout, and are the produce of trees
of the most stately growth. A forest must have yielded its choicest
timber for the supply of this building; and it is evident that the
material has been wrought with incredible labour and admirable skill.
The repairs are limited to the roof, the parapet by which it is
protected, and the buttresses by which it is upheld. As it has been
stated that the joints and mouldings of the roof are secured by wooden
pins only, it may not be superfluous to remark that the structure is
held together by the assistance of nails.[97]

<g>The Souterrains.</g>--Of the subterranean passages lately discovered at
Eltham Palace, the following facts are contained in a small pamphlet on
the subject, published at Greenwich. Tradition has always kept up the
belief of an underground passage from Eltham Palace to Blackheath,
Greenwich, or the River; and it was affirmed in the neighbourhood that
at Middle Park, connected with the passages, there was stable-room under
ground for sixty horses. Under the floor of one of the apartments of the
palace, a trap-door[98] opens into a room under-ground, ten feet by
five, and proceeding from it, a narrow passage about ten feet in length,
conducts the stranger to the series of passages with decoys, stairs, and
shafts, some of which are vertical, and others on an inclined plane,
which were once used for admitting air, and for hurling down missiles
upon enemies, according to the modes of defence then in use. And it is
worthy of notice that, at points where weapons from above could assail
the enemy with the greatest effect, there the shafts are made to verge
and concentrate. About five hundred feet of these passages have been
entered and passed through in a western direction towards Middle Park,
and under the moat to the extent of two hundred feet. The arch is broken
down in the field leading from Eltham to Mottingham, but still the
brickwork can be traced further, and proceeding in the same direction.
The remains of two iron gates, completely carbonized, were found in that
part of the passage under the moat; and large stalactites formed of
super-carbonate of lime hung down from the roof of the arch, which
sufficiently indicated the time that must have elapsed since these
passages were last entered.

<g>Environs.</g>--Shooter’s-hill, the well-known landmark in this part of Kent,
is within a very short walk of Eltham Hall. The tower commands a
beautiful prospect of the metropolis, Greenwich, Woolwich, the Thames,
and the adjacent counties, and thus forms the centre of of a most
extensive panorama.[99] It was erected by Lady James, in honour of her
husband Sir William James, Baronet, who commanded the Company’s marine
forces in the East Indies, and in 1755, distinguished himself, by the
taking of Severndroog Castle, on the coast of Malabar. It is triangular
in shape, and about forty-five feet high. In the vestibule were formerly
arranged numerous specimens of the armour and trophies taken at
Severndroog, and in front is an inscription commemorative of that
victory.

Blackheath, of which the above is the most conspicuous feature, is often
mentioned in the old chronicles as the scene of “notable events.”[100]
The view which it commands is celebrated in all languages, and still
continues to be a theme of universal admiration. Previously to this,
Shooter’s-hill was a beacon station; and in the Churchwardens’ Account
at Eltham, in 1556, there are frequent charges made for “watchinge the
becon on Shutters-hill.”

The old military road from London to Dover is supposed to have followed
nearly the same track as the present. Various Roman antiquities have
been dug up on the Heath, an account of which may be seen in the
Archæologia. With the popular names of Jack Straw, Wat Tyler, Jack Cade,
the counterfeit Mortimer, and with the military operations of Henry the
Sixth, Henry the Seventh, the “bastard Falconbridge,” Lord Audley, the
Cornish rebels, Edward the Fourth, and other personages and events,
Blackheath is intimately associated. It has also been the scene of many
great public exhibitions of military pomp and court ceremony. It was on
this heath, in the immediate vicinity of his “faire house of Eltham,”
that Henry the Fourth, with great parade and magnificence, met the
Emperor of Constantinople, when he arrived in England to solicit
assistance against Bajazet. And here, on the 23rd of November, the mayor
and aldermen of London, with four hundred citizens “clothed in scarlet,
with red and white hoods,” met their victorious monarch on his return
from Agincourt. Here also the citizens met the Emperor Sigismund, when
he came to mediate a peace between France and England; and here Edward
the Fourth was also welcomed to England by a multitude of loyal
citizens, who conducted him in triumph to his palace. Here, in 1519, a
solemn embassy, consisting of the Admiral of France, the Bishop of
Paris, and other grandees of church and state, with twelve hundred
persons in their train, were met by the Lord Admiral of England and a
numerous retinue; and the same year, Cardinal Campeius, the Pope’s
legate, was received, with great splendour, on Blackheath, by the Duke
of Norfolk, and “conducted to a rich tent of cloth of gold, where he
arrayed himself in his cardinal’s robes, and then rode in princely state
to London.”

But the most magnificent “Blackheath procession” on record, was that
which took place at the interview between Henry the Eighth and the Lady
Ann of Cleves, with an abridgement of which we shall conclude our
present notice of Eltham and its vicinity.

“On the morrow, the thirde day of Januarie, being Saturdaie, in a fair
plaine of Blackheath, was pitched a pavilion of rich cloth of gold, and
divers other tents and pavilions, in which were made fires and perfumes
for her, the <g>Ladie Anne</g>, and such ladies as were appointed to receive
her; and from the tents to the parke-gate of Greenwich, all the bushes
and firs were cut downe, and a large open waie made for the shewe of all
persons. And first, next to the parke pale on the east, stood the
masters of the Stilliard, and on the west side the merchants of Genoa,
Florence, and Venice, and the Spaniards, in cotes of velvet; then, on
both sides of the waye, stood the merchants of the citie of London, the
aldermen and councillors, to the number of a hundred and three score,
which were mingled with the esquires; then the fifty gentlemen
pensioners; and all these were apparelled in velvet and chaines of gold,
truely accounted to the number of twelve hundred and above, beside them
that came with the king and her, which were six hundred, in velvet cotes
and chaines of gold. Behind the gentlemen stood the serving men in good
order, well horssed and apparelled; so that whosoever had well viewed
them might have said, that they, for tall and comelie personages, and
clean of lim and bodie, were able to give the greatest prince in
Christendome a mortall breakefast, if he had been the king’s enemie.

“About twelve of the clocke, <g>Her Grace</g>, with all the companye which were
of her owne nation, to the number of an hundred horse, accompanied with

[Illustration]

the Dukes of Norffolke, Suffolke, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and
other bishops, lords, and knights, came doune Shooters-hill, towards the
tents, and a good space from the tents met her, the Earl of Rutland, and
all her councellors and officers, amongst whome Doctor Daie, appointed
her almoner, made to her an eloquent oration in Latine, which oration
was answered unto by the Duke her brother’s secretarie; which done, the
ladie Margaret Dowglas, daughter to the Queene of Scots, the ladie
Marquesse Dorsset, daughter to the French queen, being neeces to the
king, and the Dutches of Ritchmond, the Countesses of Rutland and
Hereford, with divers other ladies and gentlewomen, to the number of
three score and five, saluted and welcomed her grace, who alighted out
of her chariot, and with courteous demeanour and lovinge countenance,
gave to them hartie thanks and kissed them all, and after all her
councellors and officers kissed her hand; which done, she, with all the
ladies, entered the tents, and there warmed them a space; and (it being
the depth of winter) when the king knewe that she was arrived in her
tent, he with all diligence set out through the parke. And first issued
the King’s trumpets, the officers of his council, the officers of his
privie chamber, the barons, the lord mayor, the bishops, earles, the
Duke of Baviere, and countie palatine of the Rhine; then the
ambassadours of the French king and emperor, Cromwell, the lord privie
seale, the lord chancellour, the garter king-at-arms, and the other
officers and sergeants of arms, gave their attendance on each side the
lord. The lord Marquesse Dorsset bare the sword of state, and after him,
a good distance, followed the <g>King’s Highnesse</g>, mounted on a goodlie
courser.

“To speake of the rich and gorgeous apparel that was there to be seen
that daie, I have thought it not greatlie necessarie, sith each man may
well think it was right sumptuous and very faire and costlie. After the
king followed the lord chamberlayne, then the master of his horsses
richly mounted and leading the king’s horsse of estate by a long reine
of gold. Then followed the pages of honour, riding on great coursers,
then the captaine of the gard, then the gard well horssed, and in their
rich cotes, etc.

“When <g>Her Grace</g> understood that the king was come, she came forth of her
tent, and at the doore thereof, being set on a faire and beautiful
horsse, richly trapped, she rode forth towards the <g>King</g>, who perceiving
her to approach, came forward somewhat beyond the Crosse, then staid
till she came nearer, and then putting off his cap, he made forward to
her, and, with most loving countenance and princelie behaviour, saluted,
welcomed, and imbraced her, to the great rejoising of the beholders: And
she likewise, not forgetting her dutie, with most amiable aspect and
romantic behaviour, received him with many apt words and thanks, as was
most to purpose.

“After the king had talked a small while, he put her on his right hand,
and so with their footmen they rode together; and returned in this
manner through the ranks of the knights and esquires, which stood still
all this while, and removed not.” (The procession through the park is
glowingly described, but her reception in the palace is all we can
introduce in this place.) “Now were the citizens of London rowing up and
doune on the Thames before them, every craft with his barge garnished
with banners, flags, streamers, pencels, and targets, painted and beaten
with the king’s armes, some with her armes, and some with the armes of
their craft and mysterie. There was a barge called the Bachellors Barke,
richlie decked, on the which waited a foist that shot great pieces of
artillerie; and in every barge was great store of instruments of divers
sorts, and men and children singing and plaieng altogether, as the <g>King</g>
and the <g>Ladie Anne</g> passed bye the wharfe. When the king and she were
within the utter court, they alighted from their horses, and the king
lovinglie imbraced her, kissed her, and bade her welcome to her owne,
leading her by the left arme through the hall, and so brought her up to
her privie chamber, where he left her for that time, while a great peal
of artillerie was shot off from the tower of Greenwich and thereabout.”

Such are a few of the particulars given by Holinshed of this matrimonial
fete: but the account by Hall is still more circumstantial, and both
afford vivid pictures of the regal splendour which characterized all the
court pageants of that gorgeous reign. Little did Anne of Cleves
imagine, as the magnificent view opened upon her, with Eltham Hall on
her left, Greenwich on her right, Westminster and St. Paul’s in the
distance, a sovereign at her feet, and an assembled nation eager to do
her homage--little did she imagine how dark would be the sunset of this
bright day; and yet, compared with that which overtook her unhappy
sisters--partners of the same throne--her destiny was rather to be
envied than lamented.

The town of Eltham, of which our limits prevent a more deliberate
notice, is still one of the most favourite retreats in the vicinity of
town, and formerly could number among its residents many celebrated
names. The church and churchyard are interesting, and contain several
classic tombs and inscriptions. The environs are rich and picturesque,
the society is select and intellectual, the air is salubrious; and
within seven miles of the capital it would be difficult to find any
point that offers so many inviting qualities for a quiet and cheerful
residence as Eltham.

     AUTHORITIES:--Camden.--Stow.--Blome.--Leland.--Grafton.--Hall.--Life
     of the Black Prince.--do. Richard the
     Second.--Archæologia.--Gentleman’s Mag.--Hasted.--Parliamentary
     Surveys.--Lambard.--Lysons.--Kilburne.--Graphic
     Illustrator.--Collins’s Peerage.--Buckler.--Notices of Eltham.--MS.
     Visit to Eltham, March, 1842.--Royal Halls.

     For an admirable description of Greenwich Park and its vicinity,
     the reader is referred to Mr. Miller’s “Lady Jane Grey,”--“Banks of
     the Thames,” etc. etc.

[Illustration: ROCHESTER CASTLE.]




[Illustration]




THE CASTLE OF ROCHESTER.

    Long have I loved to catch the simple chime
    Of minstrel-harps, and spell the fabling rhyme;
    To view the festive rites, the knightly play,
    That deck’d heroic Albion’s elder day;
    To mark the mouldering Halls of Barons bold,
    And the rough Castles, cast in giant mould;
    With Gothic manners Gothic arts explore,
    And muse on the magnificence of yore.--WARTON.


“<g>As we</g> descended the hill towards Rochester, how solemn the appearance
of the <g>Castle</g>, with its square ghastly walls, and their hollow eyes
rising over the right bank of the Medway, grey and massive and
floorless--nothing remaining but the shell!” Such was the memorandum of
her visit to this scene, left by the author of the Mysteries of Udolpho,
as she descended Strood Hill, and gazed upon the magnificent ruin to
which this portion of our work is to be directed. Viewed from this
point--the hill above named--the Castle appears to great advantage.
Soaring in lofty pre-eminence over the surrounding buildings, and even
the Cathedral, it conveys to the spectator’s mind a deep impression of
what it must have been in the palmy days of chivalry, when mailed
warriors lined its ramparts, when joust and tourney animated its courts,
and banners floated from its towers. In its present condition it bears
that resemblance to its former self which a skeleton bears to the
living body. The framework is there, but the life is fled,--the light is
extinguished; and in the full glare of day, like the wreck of mortality,
it assumes only a more melancholy aspect. But still, the interest
connected with this landmark of antiquity is increased, rather than
diminished, by contemplation. Fancy repeoples its courts, rebuilds its
towers, restores its original order and dimensions, till we enjoy the
picture which imagination thus embodies, and seem for the time, as if we
were transported into romantic ages and took a part in those historic
scenes of which its walls were once the theatre. At every one of those
loop-holes and unlatticed casements, we seem to discern the warlike
forms that once animated the building, and hurled defiance on the
assailants. We hear the sound of revelry in the hall, the clang of arms
in the ‘bayle,’ and the rattle of the portcullis as it drops from the
lofty archway, and fastens its iron teeth in the pavement.--But we need
not proceed with a picture which so vividly presents itself to every
imaginative pilgrim who halts on the bridge of Rochester, and surveys
the vast and venerable pile which here crowns the adjoining bank, and
takes undivided possession of the scene.

[Illustration]

<g>Rochester Castle</g> is beyond doubt one of the most complete Norman
strongholds that the slow waste of centuries and the ravages of war have
left in our island; and, in its noble style and elegant proportions,
offers one of the best examples extant of that class of domestic
fortresses by which the early barons rendered themselves so formidable
to the crown. The castles or stone-built fortresses of England,
previously to the Conquest, were few and inconsiderable. Those of Roman
foundation had fallen into ruin; and although the great Alfred had
strengthened the frontier and more assailable points of the country with
fifty or more of these towers of defence, they had not been kept up with
the same vigilance by his successors; and to this deficiency of national
bulwarks may be attributed the speedy reduction of England to the Norman
yoke.

At the period in question, the castles and places of strength in
general[101] appear to have been constructed principally of wood: in
proof of which, the only mechanical implement which the vassal was
required to bring with him in aid of the work, was a hatchet. Aware of
their great importance in securing the fruits of conquest, the Norman
ruler immediately adopted the policy of the Roman, and began to measure
the duration of his power by the number and strength of his castles. In
process of time the great martial tenants of the crown followed his
example, and, by erecting places of strength in the various provinces
assigned to them as the spoils of conquest, secured to themselves and
their families the newly-acquired domain. At the close of Stephen’s
reign, the number of these domestic strongholds appears to have amounted
to eleven hundred; a fact which led to the most deplorable consequences.
Contempt of allegiance, family feuds, mutual acts of violence and
outrage--a state of society which admitted no superior, respected no law
but that of force, and accepted no arbitrator but the sword--were daily
opposed to the right administration of affairs.[102] Such, however, was
the prelude to happier times, when the castles--after having been for a
season the strongholds of lawless domination--were transformed at last
into temples and sanctuaries for the regeneration of native freedom. It
was in the recesses of those embattled walls that the rights of the
people were at length asserted, that their wrongs were redressed, and
that the sword of despotism was transformed into a sceptre of peace. It
was by the masters of those castles that the bloodless victory of
Runnymede was achieved, and freedom established on a permanent basis.

The continual struggle, however, in which these generous efforts
involved the early barons, had for a time its full portion of evil as
well as good. It distracted society, fostered suspicion and distrust in
the people, awakened personal animosities among the nobles, and
occasioned disunion among those who had but one great object in view,
that of securing and consolidating under one legitimate head the
interests of all. But the unwearied vigilance, prudence, and personal
intrepidity which were necessary to carry forward those labours to a
successful crisis, had the happy effect of bringing into full play the
noblest qualities of the human mind, and were the certain forerunners of
that political wisdom and military prowess which in every subsequent
reign have distinctly marked all our great national events.

But to return to the subject before us--we may observe that at the
period of the Conquest the security of the new dynasty depended as much
upon the faithful attachment of its great vassals in time of peace, as
the late victory had depended on their exertions in the field. Making
it therefore their interest to be faithful to him, William extended to
his followers immediate rewards with the prospect of future
aggrandizement. The number of those who had held rank in his army at the
battle of Hastings[103] amounted to seven hundred. To these extensive
domains were assigned (as already mentioned in the case of Roger
Montgomery) in all parts of England where, with true Norman policy, they
erected those majestic structures which overawed the conquered, and
secured to their lords the quiet enjoyment of their newly-acquired
power. But it is a fact not to be questioned, that these strongholds
were too often subservient to the worst purposes.[104] Where the will,
authority, or caprice of the chiefs was the only law; where his interest
and family aggrandizement were the great ends to be kept in view,
justice and humanity were not likely to hold the scales with an
impartial hand. The virtues of that age were not of the stamp which at a
later period characterized Fitzwalter and his brother barons. To extend
their possessions by the sword--as in their inroads across the Welsh and
Scottish frontier--to defend them by the like means--to exact implicit
obedience from their vassals and retainers--to marshal them under their
own banners in time of war, and to lead a life of feudal splendour in
the short intervals of peace, filled up the life and labours of the
great military leaders of that day. It was like the cloud which
intervened between the darker and brighter pages of our history; but
through which were seen occasional glimpses of those events which the
maturer age of chivalry, the growth of moral principle, and the progress
of refinement, improved to the national glory.

The Castle of Rochester, though stripped of nearly all its outworks, and
mutilated in its internal features, is as perfect an example as we
possess of a Baronial castle. It exhibits in detail nearly all the
characteristic features of the eleventh and twelfth centuries; and where
the hand of violence has not been applied, it displays all the beauty of
outline, richness of workmanship, and solidity of structure, which mark
the great buildings of its class and period. The situation is exactly
such as the Norman barons usually selected for their strongholds. These
were in many instances built on the remains of Roman forts, or on those
which had been constructed or repaired in the time of Alfred, evidence
of which, may be generally obtained by a careful examination of the
substructure. The space it occupies is believed to have been the site of
a Roman fortress; for the point was too eligible, and the district
itself was too accessible, to have been left without a military defence
during their possession of the country. Besides, it was a station on the
great military road between Dover and London; and being in a central
point between the capital and the coast, and having the double advantage
of road and river communication, was peculiarly suited to all the
purposes of a provincial fortress.

But in order that we may have a correct notion of the castellated
structures of those days, we shall here, in as few words as possible,
give a general idea of a <g>Norman Castle</g> or fortress[105]. It consisted,
with very few exceptions, of an enclosure of from five to ten acres of
land; and, as in the present instance, was encircled by a river, or
artificial canal called a moat, on the scarp or edge of which was a
strong wall, succeeded by another; and between these was the first
ballium, or outer court of the castle. Within the second wall, or that
which immediately surrounded the keep, or great tower, were storehouses
for the garrison, and other offices suitable to the extent and
distinction of the fortress. In the centre of this interior space or
enclosure, was the citadel, or master-tower, as it is more properly
called, in which resided the suzerain, or feudal chief; but occasionally
it was occupied by the deputy or castellan, who for the time being was
the representative of the baron, and had the full exercise of his
delegated authority. This master tower was generally built upon an
artificial mound, as already described in our notice of Arundel. It
contained the state-apartments, which were in proportion to the style
and retinue of the founder, with all the other domestic offices
belonging to the strongholds of that period. In the centre of the tower,
and descending to the lowest part of the foundation, were the dungeons,
in which were confined the prisoners of war, the felons or malefactors
of his jurisdiction. In several instances, access to the various
compartments of the castle was provided by secret inlets through the
centre of the walls, and by subterraneous passages made under the fosse,
as mentioned in the notice of Eltham.

In advance of the ditch or moat, was the barbican, or outer defence,
with a watch-tower that communicated with the interior by means of a
drawbridge across the moat, which opened inwards, so as to be under the
control

[Illustration]

of the sentinel or guard. The entrance to the ballium, or outer court,
was secured by gates, with a ponderous grating or portcullis, which was
raised or lowered by means of those iron chains and pulleys which are
still used in some of our military fortresses, and are always met with
in the fortified cities of the Netherlands. The walls were further
protected by towers and battlements, from which, as well as through the
numerous loopholes by which they were perforated, arrows and other
missiles could be discharged with deadly effect; while through the
apertures of the machicolation above,

    “Sudden, on the assailants’ head,
     Blocks of stone and molten lead,
     O’er the foe descending--gushing,
     Scorching as they fell, or crushing
     Helmèd warriors in their fall,
     Guarded each embattled wall.”

The outer walls were generally from six to ten feet thick; those of
Rochester Castle are seven[106]; while the walls of the keep, to which
all looked for retreat under desperate circumstances, were often fifteen
feet in thickness, and contained in their centre many secret closets,
passages, and recesses, to which none but the castellan and his family
had access. In the castle of Glamis[107] there is a secret chamber, the
key of which is transmitted from father to son, and never known to more
than the “seigneur actuel,” and some trustworthy official. Before the
invention of artillery, one of these strongholds, such as we have
described, might have been considered impregnable; and when taken, the
surrender was generally in consequence of famine, revolt or cowardice on
the part of the garrison, or of stratagem on that of the besiegers.

Nearly all the fortresses of this class were erected during the period
that elapsed between the reign of the Conqueror and that of Edward the
Third. The Castle of Rochester appears to have been erected soon after
the decisive battle of Hastings; and in tracing its history and that of
its founder, we shall adhere to the general opinion, so far as that may
be found to harmonise with historical documents. Castles built on the
Norman model varied according to the natural shape of the ground
selected for their erection. The military baron, following the example
of the Roman general, selected that position to which nature had given
the best means of security, which provided against sudden approach or
surprise, and in cases of extremity, offered some facilities for escape,
of which various instances are recorded in history. The sites chosen
were generally on capes or promontories overlooking the sea; on high
banks protected by a river, or on isolated hills, where connecting
valleys, by forming a natural fosse, would interpose a chasm between the
besiegers and the besieged. These natural positions were readily taken
advantage of by the warlike baron; while the difficulty of access could
be increased by artificial means, such as damming up the stream which
flowed through the ravine, and thus transforming it into a temporary
lake. The situation of Rochester Castle is partly an example of this
kind: the high ground on which it stands, and its immediate access to
the river, were natural recommendations not to be lost sight of; and
which the founder took every opportunity of turning to the best account.
In castle-building the general maxim was--

    “Where the land o’erlooks the flood,
     Steep with rocks and fringed with wood;
     Where, throughout the circling year,
     Wells the fountain fresh and clear;
     Scoop the dungeon, rear the wall,
     Pile on high the feudal hall.”

We shall now quote one or more authorities respecting the Castle of
Rochester. “Neere unto the church,” says Camden, “there standeth, over
the river, an olde Castle fortified both by art and situation, which, as
the report goeth, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux and Earle of Kent, built; but it
was no doubt King William the First that built it; for, in Domesday Book
we reade thus: ‘The Bishop of Roucester holdeth in Elesford for exchange
of the land on which the castle is seated.’ Yet certain it is that
Bishop Odo, when his hope descended of a doubtful change of the state,
held this against King William Rufus; all which time there passed a
proclamation through England, that whosoever would not be reputed a
‘niding,’ should repair to the recovery of Rochester Castle. Whereupon,
the youth, fearing that name as most reproachful and opprobrious in that
age, swarmed thither in such numbers, that Odo was enforced to yield the
place, lose his dignity, and abjure the realme.”

But concerning the reconstruction of the “Kentishmen’s Castle,” Camden
quotes the text of Roffensis, an ancient manuscript of the Church of
Rochester, which narrates the following particulars:--“When King William
the Second would not confirm the gift of Lanfranck, unless Gundulph,
Bishop of Rochester, would give unto the king an hundred pounds of
deniers; at last, by the intercession of Sir Robert Fitzsimon, and
Henry, Earl of Warwick, the king granted it thus far forth in lieu for
the money which he demanded for grant of the manor, that Bishop
Gundulph, because he was skilful and well experienced in architecture
and masonrie, should build for the king, at his own

[Illustration]

proper charges, a castle of stone. In the end, when as the bishops were
hardlie brought to give their consent unto it before the king, Bishop
Gundulph built up the castle full and whole at his owne cost.--Hence the
name of <g>Gundulph’s Tower</g>.--And a little after, King Henrie the First
granted unto the church of Canterbury and to the archbishops the keeping
thereof, and the constableship, to hold ever after, as Florentius of
Worcester saith, yea and a licence withal to build in the same a towre
for themselves. Since which time it was besieged by one or two great
sieges, but then especially when the barons with their alarmes made all
England to shake; and Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, assaulted it
most fiercely, though in vaine, and cut down the wooden bridge, which
was afterwards repaired.”

To the historical names and events thus connected with the castle we
shall briefly advert. <g>Odo</g>, whose name is so closely associated with the
castle and the county of Kent, was one of the military prelates who
followed the victorious standard of King William, pronounced a
benediction on his army at the battle of Hastings, and shared largely in
the plunder of the vanquished. He was half-brother, by the mother’s
side, to the Conqueror, and could handle the sword as well as the
crosier. William, to save the bishop and secure a steady adherent to the
crown, made him Earl of Kent, and along with the title conferred many
other substantial favours. “But,” says an old authority, “he was by
nature of a bad disposition and busie head, bent alwaies to sow sedition
and to trouble the state; whereupon, he was committed to prison[108] by
a subtile distinction as Earle of Kent, and not as Bishop of Bayeux, in
regard of his holie orders; and afterwards, by a most dangerous
rebellion which he raised, he was, by his nephew King William Rufus,
deprived of his places of dignity, lost all his goods in England, and
abjured the realme.”

[Illustration]

The rebellion in which he was concerned, and which proved fatal to this
ambitious and intriguing prelate, is matter of local history. He was a
formidable partisan, a man formed to be the leader of a conspiracy; he
had many friends among the most powerful of the barons; and when Duke
Robert promised to come over with an army to wrest the sceptre from his
brother Rufus, Odo engaged to do the rest. At the Easter festival, Rufus
kept his court at Winchester, and there he invited all the great lords
to attend him[109]. Odo and his friends were also there, and took that
opportunity of arranging his plans. From the festival he departed to
raise the standard of Robert in his old earldom of Kent; while Hugh de
Grantmesnil, Roger Bigod, Robert de Mowbray, Roger de Montgomery,
William Bishop of Durham, and Geoffrey of Coutance, repaired to do the
same in their respective fiefs and governments. Thus a sudden and
dangerous rising took place in many parts of England. But the insurgents
lost time; while the army from Normandy, which Odo was instructed to
provide for, was slow in making its appearance[110]. Rufus, in the mean
time, on hearing that warlike preparations were going forward in the
very heart of his kingdom, permitted his subjects to fit out cruisers,
which rendered him very important services; for the Normans calculated
that there was no royal navy to oppose them, and that they would be
received on landing by their confederates. The followers of Odo and his
party began to cross the Channel in small companies, and so many were
intercepted and destroyed by the English cruisers, that the attempted
invasion was abandoned. The bishop, however, had fortified the castles
of Rochester and Pevensey, and, fearful that no assistance might reach
him from Normandy, prepared to stand a siege. Rufus now issued the
proclamation already quoted--namely, “Let every man who is not a
nithing[111] (cipher) in the martial catalogue of his country, quit
home and hearth, and hasten to join the standard of his sovereign!” To
this appeal thirty thousand men responded,--men of the old Saxon blood,
whom the conciliatory measures recently adopted by Rufus had brought
over to his cause. With this powerful army he marched against the
bishop, who having delegated the command of Rochester Castle to Eustace,
Earl of Boulogne, lay in the strong fortress of Pevensey, in expectation
that Duke Robert and his Normans might still make good their landing on
that part of the coast. After a siege of seven weeks, Odo was obliged to
surrender; and on taking an oath that he would place Rochester Castle in
the king’s hands, Rufus pardoned this act of rebellion, and dismissed
him, with an escort of Norman horse, to Rochester, there to fulfil his
engagement[112]. By a preconcerted plan, however, between Eustace and
himself, means were taken to evade the performance of his oath; for
while reciting the set form of words by which he demanded the surrender
of the castle, Eustace, pretending great indignation at the proposal,
arrested the bishop and his guards on the spot, as traitors to Robert,
and carried them into the castle. The scene was well acted; and Odo,
trusting to be screened from the accusation of perjury by the compulsory
means employed against him, remained in the fortress as a witness, and,
no doubt, an active partisan in the cause[113].

Exasperated by such treachery, Rufus soon environed the castle with a
powerful army of infantry and horsemen. The castle, however, was strong
and well garrisoned: five hundred Norman knights, without counting the
meaner sort, fought on its battlements; and after a long siege the place
was not taken by assault, but forced to surrender either by pestilential
disease, by famine, or probably by both. The English, who had shown
great ardour during the siege, would have granted no terms of
capitulation; but the Norman portion of the king’s army, who had friends
and relations in the castle, entertained very different sentiments, and
at their earnest entreaty, though not without difficulty, Rufus allowed
the besieged to march out with their arms and horses, and freely depart
the land[114]. The unconscionable bishop, however, would have included
in the capitulation a proviso that the king’s army should not cause
their bands to play in sign of triumph as the garrison marched out; but
to this the king replied, in great anger, that he would not make such a
concession for a thousand marks of gold. The partisans of Robert then
came forward with colours lowered, and the king’s music playing the
while. When Odo appeared, there was a louder crash; the trumpets
screamed; and the English, scarcely able to keep their hands from his
person, shouted as he passed--“Oh for a halter to hang this perjured
murderous bishop[115]!” Such was Odo’s last appearance in the earldom of
Kent.

[Illustration]

The next important epoch in the history of this fortress is the <g>Siege</g>,
which carries us forward to the reign of King John--a reign of tumult
and civil distraction, but relieved in its darker features by events
which laid the foundation of British freedom. But the barons, as Hume
has justly observed, having once obtained the Great Charter, seem to
have been lulled into a fatal security. They took no rational measures,
in case of the introduction of a foreign force, for reassembling their
armies. The king was from the first master of the field, and immediately
laid siege to the Castle of Rochester, of which, at the head of a
hundred and forty knights with their retainers, William de Albini held
the command. A few of the particulars are thus recorded by
Holinshed:--“King John having recovered strength about him, and being
advertised that William de Albiney was entered into the castle of
Rochester with a great number of knights, men at arms, and other
souldiers, hasted thither with his whole armie and besieged them within,
enforcing himselfe by all waies possible to win the castell, as well by
battering the walles with engines as by giving thereunto many assaults.
But the garrison within, consisting of ninety-and-foure knights, beside
demilances and other souldiers, defended the place verie manfullie in
hope of rescue from the Barons, which laie then at London; but they
coming forward one daies journie unto Dartford, when they heard that the
king was comming forward in good arraie for battel to meet them, upon
consideration had of their own forces--for they were not able to match
him with footemen--they returned backe again to the citie, breaking that
assured promise which they had made and also confirmed by their solemn
oaths; which was, that if the castell of Rochester should chance to be
besieged, they would not faile but raise the siege[116].”

“At length they within for want of vittels were constrained to yield it
up unto the king after it had been besieged the space of three-score
daies; during which time they had beaten back their enemies at sundrie
assaults with great slaughter and losse. But the king having now got the
possession of that hold, upon grief conceived for the losse of so manie
men, and also because he had lien so long about it yer he could winne it
to his inestimable cost of charges, was determined to have put them all
to death that had kept it. But Sauveric de Mauleon advised him
otherwise[117], lest, by such crueltie, the barons in any like case
should be occasioned to use the same extremitie towards such of his
people as by chance might fall into their hands. Thus the king spared
William de Albiney and the other nobles and gentlemen, and sent them to
Corfe Castle, and other places, to be kept as prisoners[118].

“Neverthelesse--as the booke that belonged to Bernewell Abbie
saith--there was not any of them hanged, saving one arcubalister onelie,
whome the king had brought up of a child. But, howsoever the king dealt
with them after they were yielded, true it is (as by the same booke it
appeareth) there had been no siege in those daies more earnestlie
inforced, nor more obstinatlie defended: for after that all the limmes
of the castelle had beene reuersed and throune downe, they kept the
maister tower, till halfe thereof was also overthrowne, and after kept
the other halfe, till through famine they were constreined to yeeld,
having nothing but horsse-flesh and water to susteine their liues
withall[119].”

Of William de Albini, who had command of the castle garrison, and was
the best officer among the confederated barons, the following anecdote
is recorded[120]:--Early one morning, after the fortunes of the besieged
had become nearly desperate, and when Albini was making his usual round
of the battlements, to see that all was in good order and every man at
his post, he was thus accosted by one of his retainers, a favourite
cross-bowman: “Seigneur, behold the tyrant!” pointing at the same
instant to the well-known person of King John, who was cautiously
reconnoitring the weakened points of the castle.

[Illustration]

“Well,” said Albini, “it is the king; what wouldest thou?”

“Shall I take him off, by your leave?” said the bowman, suiting the
action to the word and adjusting a steel bolt to the bow-string; “shall
I despatch this swift messenger to his highness? only say the word!”

“Nay, God forbid!” said Albini, raising his hand to check the rash
attempt--“forbear! it is the king!”

“Very well, seigneur,” said the arcubalister, with a mortified air; “be
it according to your pleasure. Only, methinks, that were the tyrant in
your place, and you on the outwork yonder, there would be no ‘God
forbid!’ ’Tis a fine target, seigneur!”

“Nay, nay, no more of this; keep thy shafts for better use; we must not
do as the king would do, nor as the king has done. He is the anointed of
the realm; and if his deeds have ill corresponded with his duties, we
shall not mend things by an act of treachery.”

“True, seigneur,” said the bowman, submissively, but still keeping his
eye on the mark, and raising the weapon instinctively to his eye; “and
yet, ’tis the last chance, and when the horse-flesh and fresh water fail
us, God have mercy upon the garrison!”

“Let us abide the worst,” said Albini; “brave hearts and the favour of
Heaven are a match for the king and all his army. Besides, I expect
Fitzwalter and his barons to raise the siege.”

“They are right tardy in their march, seigneur; almost two months have
they loitered thus.”

“Nay, methinks I see them even now, descending yonder height. Seest thou
aught?”

“I can see nothing but the king and this cross-bow,” said the archer;
“and now,” added he, despondingly, “’tis beyond reach--‘tis lost!”

“No matter,” said Albini, “thou hast more honourable work before thee:
for see, they prepare for a new assault--the ladders are out--to thy
post, and I to mine. The event is with God, not with King John!”

“Maybe so,” said the staunch bowman, “maybe so, but with King John I wot
is neither sickness nor starvation, His host, I warrant me, have all
breakfasted this morning, while some that I could name have been three
days under arms with little better cheer than the castle well.”

“Too true,” said Albini, “too true. We must all fast as well as fight;
but to-night, please God, even to-night, the barons may arrive, the
siege may be raised, and thou and thy brave companions shall sup in the
king’s larder. What say’st thou to that, Hugo?”

“My appetite is right keen, seigneur, and my thirst not a whit behind my
appetite.”

“Well then, courage! and see what God will send us.”

“Amen!” said the bowman, “and never fear me for courage when Albini
commands. And yet, seigneur, had this little bolt been sent home, much
blood, methinks, would have been spared. But no matter now, the die is
cast; and if once caught by the tyrant, yonder stands the gibbet! So
once more, here goes.”

“Ay, by my troth, and a right good aim,” said Albini; “thou hast hit the
first man between the joints of his harness--he tumbles dead from the
ladder. This is the right game, so once more, God and freedom be the
word!”

“God and freedom!” responded the bowman; and herewith the closing
horrors of the siege began.

The aid sent to the barons by the French court in this struggle is
stated at nearly seven thousand men. “Heere is to be noted,” says
Holinshed, “that during the siege of Rochester, as some write, there
came out of France to the number neere hand of seaven thousand men, sent
from the French king vnto the aid of the barons, at the suit of Saer de
Quincie Earle of Winchester, and other ambassadours that were sent from
the barons, during the time of this siege; although it should seeme, by
Matthew Paris, that the said earle was not sent till after the Pope had
excommunicated the barons. The Frenchmen that came over at this first
time landed at Orwell, and other hauens there neere adioining[121].”

Elated with the success which had crowned his operations against the
Castle of Rochester, King John, says the historian[122], marched through
the kingdom like an implacable despot, inflicting every act of barbarity
and spoliation on the relations and estates of those who had opposed his
tyrannical measures. In the mean time, the barons, hopeless of ever
retrieving their wretched state of affairs by their own unaided
strength, had recourse to the last painful expedient of calling in
foreign aid, and applied to Philip of France, who, as it favoured his
own interest, and flattered his ambition, was easily persuaded to enter
into their views. Intent upon this grand object, extensive preparations
were set on foot; an armament was fitted out, and the following year,
his son Louis the Dauphin was placed at its head, and with a fleet of
seven hundred vessels set sail for the English coast. Landing at the
port of Sandwich, the French auxiliaries were joined by those of the
confederate barons, and presented so menacing a front that King John,
becoming alarmed, left the capital and set out for Winchester. On his
march through Sussex he was met by Gualo, the Pope’s nuncio, who had
just arrived in England, and in whom the despotic monarch found a warm
partisan. For the sacrilegious Dauphin having thus dared to invade the
patrimony of St. Peter--as his Holiness was pleased to style the
kingdom--it became his duty to wield the spiritual weapons of the Church
against him. With this view he repaired to the French camp, and there
excommunicated with all due solemnity the rash intruder and his whole
army. Louis was at first intimidated by this awful denunciation, and
made some concessions in order to ward off the coming vengeance; but
when he found that the sun was not darkened--that the elements did not
fight against him--that his camp was not depopulated, nor his march
impeded, he resumed courage, set the legate at defiance, and proceeded
in his expedition. As the first operation of the war, he invested the
Castle of Rochester, which, having lost much of its defensive outworks
in the previous siege, could offer no effectual resistance, and speedily
fell into the hands of the Dauphin. He then proceeded to London, where
he was received with triumph[123]. But the King dying the same year, his
son Henry succeeded to the throne, and this event, for a time, restored
public tranquillity, and rendered the cause of freedom independent of
foreign influence.

Rochester Castle, however, was destined to figure once more in the same
great question which had agitated the country during the preceding
reign. Henry the Third, by that open predilection for foreigners which
he exhibited on various public occasions, had excited both disgust and
indignation among the nobles of his own court, who in their turn lost no
favourable occasion of manifesting the sentiments by which they were
guided. This spirit was fully evinced at the grand tournaments which
from time to time drew together the chivalry of the land, and where they
always found, to their mortification, a preference given to foreign
adventurers by the English monarch. Meditating designs against the
freedom of his own people, he naturally foresaw the consequences, and
appears to have been anxious to conciliate the favour of those foreign
knights whom, after the manner of his father, he could make the willing
instruments of his despotism whenever the question should be ripe for
discussion in the field. This unnational prejudice was particularly
observed at the great solemn tournament which was held on the 8th of
December, 1251, in the fields to the south-east of Rochester Castle. It
was one of the most imposing military spectacles that had ever taken
place in the King’s presence, and numbered among the combatants the
noblest and the bravest of the land; while the lists were graced with
all that native beauty and virtue which so fascinated the chivalry of
other nations, and inspired the noblest deeds among their own. Attracted
to this spectacle, where they were sure of a cordial welcome, a crowd of
foreign knights arrived at Rochester on the eve of the fete, and were
received with marked distinction by the king. The morning of the
spectacle brought a still greater portion into the lists; but the events
of the day were not marked by anything in speech or bearing that could
reflect disgrace on the knightly courtesy which passed between the
combatants. The English knights, determined to maintain their national
character, entered the lists against all foreigners without exception.
Their challenge was freely accepted by the strangers, and in the course
of the day many a spear was shivered, many a knight unhorsed; but still
the palm was borne away by Englishmen. Mortified with defeat, the
foreigners were compelled to retire into the city without any of the
usual tokens of victory for which they had travelled so far; while some
of them, conscious that their conduct in the lists had violated certain
laws of chivalry, took refuge in the Castle, there to avoid popular
indignation and await some favourable moment for escape[124].

[Illustration]

It was on this occasion that Henry was made fully aware of the spirit
which now actuated his young nobles; and the result was another civil
war, and another siege of the Castle of Rochester by Simon de Montfort.
The Castle at that time was held by Earl Warren for the King; and on
Montfort’s arrival on the west bank of the Medway, opposite the
fortress, he found an army strongly posted, and ready to dispute with
him the passage of the bridge. He determined, nevertheless, to try the
fortune of war. He condensed his strength, and, having sent Gilbert de
Clare to attack the town on the south, so as to draw off part of the
enemy’s force and divert his attention from the design in progress, he
then ordered vessels to be filled with combustibles, and setting fire to
them, sent them adrift on the stream, which, running strong at this
point, bore them immediately down against the wooden bridge which then
crossed the river. The bridge having caught fire, the smoke and flames
which issued from the timber arches drove the enemy from their position
in the centre of the bridge, where they had charge of a tower, with a
drawbridge which cut off all communication with the opposite side.
During the obscurity and confusion which this stratagem occasioned,
Montfort, seizing the favourable instant, passed the river in boats, and
commenced his attack upon the outposts with such resolution and success
that he entered the city in the evening of Good Friday--spoiled the
Church, and vigorously attacked the Castle. Warren and his gallant
supporters, however, defended the citadel with such courage and
determination that, after a siege of seven days and nights, Leicester
had only captured some of the outworks. Yet owing to the state of the
Castle at that time, it is very probable that had the siege been
continued only a short time longer, it must have fallen into his hands.
But the great cause in which he had embarked demanding his presence in
London, which was threatened with a hostile visitation from the king, he
drew off the main body of his army to defend the capital, and thus the
Castle of Rochester was spared the disgrace of another surrender.
Shortly after this, Montfort, as Earl of Leicester, fought the battle of
Lewes, where, as already described in a former part of this work, he
gained a victory which richly compensated for the sudden retreat from
the Castle of Rochester.

Subsequently to this period, the Castle of Count Odo--as this fortress
is sometimes called--continued to be held by successive constables, men
of high military standing in the country. But from the above period
downwards it has not been the scene of any remarkable event, and
consequently its history is little more than an enumeration of its
castellans and the local incidents and irritations with which their
caprice or authority diversified the not always “even tenor” of their
sway[125].

The chief duty in which they appear to have latterly engaged[126] was
that of keeping a vigilant eye upon the monastery, which was gradually
rising in strength, and improving in territory as the Castle ramparts
fell into disuse; and, considering the talents possessed by the bishops
and superior clergy who successively presided in the Cathedral and
adjoining cloisters of Rochester, the office of castellan was no
sinecure. Stephen de Dene, however, attempted to set a bold example to
his successors in that office by taxing the monks for certain premises
about their convent; but the latter carried the day, and the question
being tried by law, the castellan was not merely nonsuited, but
dismissed from his office under the Crown. From that time, therefore, no
man appears to have been hardy enough to contest a civil question with
the spiritual authorities; and we may conclude that more than one or two
of these castellans would have enacted the tyrants of the place, had
they not been deterred by the sturdy bedesmen, and the terrors of
excommunication. Thus mutual vigilance between the castle and the
convent did the public tranquillity some service. But it was the
invention of gunpowder, the use of cannon, which gave the finishing blow
to all these magnificent ruins upon which we still gaze with feelings of
mixed wonder and veneration. Ceasing to be places of security--unless in
particular instances--they ceased to be appreciated for any other
quality of site or structure. Commanded, as that of Rochester is by all
the neighbouring heights, it could offer no resistance to those engines
which supplanted the balista, the battering-ram, and the cross-bows; and
continued thenceforward to be a mere monument of other days, reminding
us of those patriotic men and measures by which the national liberties
had been achieved, and who led the way to these happier times, when the
safeguard of society is the law of the country, and when the humblest
cottage is a domestic fortress.

    “Unconquer’d patriots! form’d by ancient lore,
     The love of ancient freedom to restore;
     Who nobly acted what they boldly thought,
     And seal’d, by death, the lessons which they taught.”

At the accession of James the First--whose personal recollections of
Falkland and Gowrie House had given him a noted abhorrence of all such
strongholds--Rochester Castle was one of the Crown manors, but was then
given, with all its services annexed, to Sir Anthony Weldon[127], of
Swanscombe. Much land in Kent and other counties is held of the Castle
of Rochester by the service of “perfect castle guard.” Every St.
Andrew’s Day, old style, a banner is hung out at the house of the
steward; and if there be any unlucky tenant who cannot bring in his rent
at the hour specified, he is liable to have the sum doubled at “every
return of the tide” in the Medway, till the whole amount is paid up.
Nothing, therefore, can be more unwelcome to the ear of the insolvent
tenant, than that peculiarly harsh sound with which the full tide rushes
through the centre arch of Rochester Bridge on the thirtieth of
November. In vain his friend ejaculates, addressing the steward--

    “Gladly would thy servant pay,
     Spare him but another day!
     He’d not absent him from your audit--
     Poor man! he’d pay it an’ he had it!”

but the immovable steward answers--

    “Spare him? No!--Let the law decide--
     Think ye that I can ‘_stop the tide_?’”

So true it is, that time and tide wait for no man.

When at last, like so many of its contemporaries, this castle was
finally deserted as a habitable dwelling, it was stripped of all its
carpentry, the hewn stone composing the stairs was removed, and all the
materials that could be turned to money were announced for public sale.
The old timber, consisting of the oak joists, on which rested the roof
and floors of the principal apartments, was bought up and employed in
the construction of a brewhouse[128]. But in attempting to remove the
solid materials of the walls, the operations were suddenly arrested by
this conviction, that it was much easier to quarry from nature than from
such a reservoir of art; for the pickaxes made so little progress in the
demolition of these massive walls--the very mortar of which is harder
than the stones it cemented together--that the enterprise was soon given
up in despair, as the chasm now left in the outer wall fully
demonstrates[129]. The stone employed in by far the greater portion of
the Castle is the same as that used in the Tower of London[130], built
under the same ecclesiastical architect, Bishop Gundulph; and is what
passes under the name of Caen-stone, a vast quantity of which must have
been imported from the royal quarries in Normandy. In several of the
repairs, however, native stone appears to have been used; but it was
introduced, comparatively, at a late period. The facing of the walls is
all of Normandy free-stone, and the centre is filled up with grout-work;
that is, a mass of pebbles, flint shells, and sand, cemented by mortar
poured into the interstices in a liquid state, and forming the whole
into a solid, compact, and almost inseparable mass, more durable than
the stone itself, and capable of resisting the action of the weather
with scarcely any perceptible loss of substance.

[Illustration]

<g>Visit to the Ruins.</g>--Having thus far adverted only very briefly to the
several compartments of which this majestic fortress consists, we shall
now take them more in detail, and introduce such particulars as may
serve to conduct the stranger in his research, and point out those
objects in the Castle which chiefly arrest attention, and fix themselves
in the memory[131].

<g>The Entrance</g> into the Castle area was by a bridge formed on two arches,
over a deep dry fosse. On each side of the portal, part of which is
remaining, is an angular recess, with arches on the outside that
commanded the avenues; and over the gateway and the recesses was a large
tower. The Keep stands at the south-east angle of the area, and in the
opinion of some writers, with a tower in Dover Castle, and the White
Tower within the Tower of London, was erected by Julius Cæsar. But we
have already shown that the architect was undoubtedly Bishop Gundulph.
The area of the castle district is about three hundred feet square; but
all the inner buildings, storehouses, magazines, stables, armouries,
have long since mouldered away.

<g>The Tower</g>, or Keep, and, as it is generally called, in honour of the
builder, Gundulph’s Tower, is quadrangular, its angles nearly
corresponding with the four cardinal points of the compass. It is about
seventy feet square at the base; the outside of the walls is built with
a slight inclination towards the centre, and, in general, are about
twelve feet thick. Adjoining to the east angle of this, is a small
tower, about two-thirds of the former in height, and twenty-eight feet
square. In this tower was

<g>The Grand Entrance</g>, with a noble flight of steps, eight feet wide,
through a lofty arched gateway, richly ornamented

[Illustration]

with curious fretwork, the zig-zag or chevron characteristics of the
time. For the greater security of this entrance, there was a drawbridge,
under which was the common entrance to the lower apartments of the Great
Tower, which consisted of only two divisions, and, receiving no light
from without, must have been as dark and gloomy as a cave underground.
They are divided by a partition-wall, five feet thick, which is
continued to the top, so that the rooms were twenty-one by forty-six
feet on each floor. In the lower part of the walls are several narrow
openings, or slits, for the partial admission of air and light; and in
the partition-wall are also arches, by which the two rooms communicated
with each other. These were probably the store-rooms of the Castle. In
the partition-wall in the centre of the Great Tower, is that upon which
the tenure of the whole fortress depended, and without which neither
strength nor stratagem could avail the besieged--namely, that
indispensable necessary,

<g>The Well.</g>--This was admirably contrived; its diameter is thirty-three
inches, and the workmanship is finely executed. This hollow tunnel, or
shaft, passes through the centre of the wall, from the turrets to the
foundation, and communicates with every floor; so that an ample supply
of water could be had with the greatest convenience. It was literally
such as the poet describes; not liable to have its clear lymph disturbed
by those accidental circumstances to which other fountains are subject.
Fons erat “Castelli”--

        Quem neque pastores, neque pastæ monte capellæ
    Contigerant, aliudve pecus; quem nulla volucris,
    Nec fera turbârat, nec lapsus ab arbore ramus.

<g>The Prison.</g>--On the north-east side, within the Great Tower, is a small
arched doorway, through which is a descent by steps leading into a
vaulted apartment under the Small Tower. This is supposed to have been
the state prison; and in shape, substance, and dimensions, it well
corresponds with such a destination. One may still fancy the words which
it once addressed to the shackled captives as they entered this dreary
receptacle--“Voi qui entrate quì, lasciate ogni speranza!”--and, no
doubt, it has witnessed many a scene of crime and desperation concerning
which history and tradition are alike silent.

[Illustration]

<g>The Battlements.</g>--From the ground-floor there is a winding staircase,
between five and six feet wide, in the east angle, which leads to the
top of the Tower, and, in its ascent, communicates with every floor. The
steps were nearly demolished during the frequent attempts made to remove
the hewn stone, during the time already mentioned, when this baronial
monument was condemned by sordid interest, and that spirit of native
Vandalism from which it was only rescued by the invincible nature of
its own masonry, which resisted all efforts employed for its
destruction. The staircase, however, is still accessible, in spite of
the efforts made to destroy it, and retains the impressions of the
winding centres on which the arches were turned. The floor of the

<g>First Story</g> was about thirteen feet from the ground. The holes in the
walls opposite, where the timbers were laid, distinctly mark the
different stages or floors. But the massive oaken joists were long since
disposed of in the way we have mentioned, when the walls were finally
dismantled, the interior laid open to the weather, and the timber of the
Barons’ Hall sold to construct Gimmet’s brewhouse. These oaken joists
were nearly a foot square, and about thirteen inches apart, but less in
the upper floors, and extended from the outer wall to the centre
partition, where their sockets still appear in the stone. In the west
angle is another staircase, which ascends from the floor to the top of
the tower, and, like the former, communicates with every room. In this
story

<g>The Rooms</g> are about twenty feet high, and were probably intended for the
accommodation of the Barons’ household servants. The apartment in the
north-east side, in the Small Tower over the prison, and into which the
outward door of the grand entrance opened, was on this floor, and was
about thirteen feet square, and richly ornamented with Norman
chisel-work, in which the chevron moulding on the arches of the doors
and windows is the characteristic feature. This room communicated with
the state apartments in the Great Tower, by means of an archway, six
feet by ten and secured by means of a portcullis; the groove for which
is well worked in the main wall through to the next story. The rooms
also communicate with each other, by means of arches in the partition;
and in the external walls are many holes, or œillets, for the admission
of light, and the discharge of weapons in time of a siege. In the north
angle of this floor, appears to have been a small room, with a fireplace
in it, which antiquaries have described as the guardroom of certain
officers of the garrison[132]. In the south-east is a small door
intended, it is supposed, for those who were not admitted at the grand
entrance; the inside of which is constructed in a manner peculiarly
adapted for its security. From this floor we ascend by the principal
staircase to

<g>The State Apartments</g>, or Barons’ Hall, which, in point of size,
proportion, decoration, and harmonious combination of parts, presents a
noble specimen of Norman design and workmanship. The arches, doors, and
window are elaborately chiselled, and exhibit most of the beautiful
mouldings of which the architecture of that day was so prolific. This
apartment was about thirty-two feet high, separated by three massive
columns, each eighteen feet in height, forming four grand arches richly
ornamented, and included the

[Illustration]

whole space within the walls. The stair leading to this was much more
commodious than the others; and in cases of danger and necessity, the
great warlike engines then in use could be set up in the hall[133], for
the immediate protection of its inmates.

The chimneys were semicircular, very capacious, and projected
considerably into the rooms, and rested upon small pillars. The smoke
was carried off from each fireplace by means of a perforation in the
wall behind. The sinks were so contrived in an oblique direction that
no weapon could be sent up them.[134] All the interior arches, doorways,
and windows, are ornamented with the same carved mouldings as those
already mentioned.

With respect to the Chapel in Rochester Castle, no precise account has
been given; and even its place in the fortress is still a subject of
conjecture. But that an oratory once existed here, as in all other
strongholds of the same class, there can be no doubt; and in the upper
story, next the battlements, are the remains of semicircular arches[135]
in the wall, which, perhaps, mark the spot under which stood the altar
of the garrison Chapel[136]. Other appearances in the same floor seem to
strengthen the conjecture. At Arundel Castle, the Oratory, as described
in a first portion of this work, occupied the highest story of the Keep;
and it seems by no means improbable that in Rochester Castle[137] the
Chapel may have occupied a similar position. But if not here, there is
no other part of the Castle with which any oratory or chapel can be so
properly identified.

About midway in the ascent to the next or highest floor, there is a
narrow arched passage or gallery in the main wall, quite round the
Tower. In the Upper Floor, the apartments appear to have been sixteen
feet high. The roof, as above mentioned, was long since removed, and
from top to bottom nothing is left but the naked walls. The stone
gutters which carried off the rain are still entire. From this upper
portion, the stair rises about ten feet higher to the top of the Great
Tower, which is about one hundred and four feet from the ground, and
surrounded with battlements and embrasures seven feet high. At each of
the four angles is a turret, about twelve feet square, with floor and
battlement above it. From this elevation the panoramic view of the
country is highly interesting. The neighbouring heights, bristling with
military forts and covered with standards; the Medway studded with
ships, and seen as far as its confluence with the Thames;
Brompton--Chatham Lines--the Dockyard--Upnor Castle--the wooded heights
opposite; the bridge, once the most elegant in England--Strood,
Rochester, Chatham, and numerous other scenes and objects with which the
historical deeds of the past are closely associated--all awaken so deep
and lasting an interest in the spectator’s mind, that it would be
difficult to select any point in the kingdom which embraces a landscape
so various and so striking in its character.

A very accurate investigator of the antiquities of Rochester, and who
resided in the neighbourhood and made repeated researches on the
subject, was of opinion, that a wall must have extended originally from
the tower in the east wall to that in the west. The ground to the north
of this partition-wall would answer to what in other Norman castles is
often called the inner ballium, bayle, or court-yard. Several towers
were stationed in the angles and sides of the Castle-walls, to give more
scope to the besieged in the distribution of their forces; and, in
particular, there was a large tower at the north angle, for the security
of the

[Illustration]

bridge. Near this tower is a long opening in the wall from top to
bottom, which is supposed to have been used for the secret conveyance of
stores and necessaries, from boats in the river, into the Castle. In the
south angle of the walls, there was another tower; and from the number
of loop-holes, it must have been designed to annoy an enemy who had
succeeded in any attack on the south gate of the city. At a small
distance from this tower are steps descending to Bully or Boley
Hill[138]; and while the Castle was in force, there might be here a
postern gate to this part of the outworks.

In a survey of this gigantic fortress and its now deserted walls the
imagination is powerfully awakened. It speaks audibly of generations
long since swept away; when the life of a chieftain, as Mr. Dallaway
observes, appears to have been passed in building castles, and in
defending them when not actively employed in destroying those of others.
Although constructed as if to last for ages, the long reign of Henry the
Third, spent in a ceaseless contest between the King and his revolting
Barons, affords numerous instances of fortresses which were scarcely
finished before the outworks, at least, were levelled with the ground.
They more frequently escaped utter ruin after a long and obstinate
siege. This demolition was effected by means of vast military engines,
such as the catapulta and battering-ram, the use of which had been
retained, and applied according to the Roman system of war[139]. These
observations belong likewise to the Barons’ wars in the reign of the
second Edward. We cannot, indeed, in the words of the same authority,
fairly account for the total subversion of so many castles as the
Chronicles have asserted, but by concluding that after a castle was
taken, the whole soldiery engaged as victors did not leave until the
entire demolition was effected, agreeably to the sentence--“funditus
demoliendum[140]!” The Castle of Rochester is one of the few that have
survived the effects of time and revolutions; and in the almost entire
state of its Keep and other subordinate compartments, distinctly points
out the living manners of the people, and their warlike operations
during the turbulent periods of the national history.

In process of time, several improvements, both in respect to military
strength and commodious habitation, were adopted in these Norman
fortresses. The second ballium was protected by smaller towers; and
those of the barbican and gate of entrance admitted of spacious rooms.
In these the feudal Baron resided with his family, who only made use of
the Keep during a siege, or when driven to it as a place of
security[141] under any sudden danger or alarm.

[Illustration]

In Rochester Castle there was this peculiarity among others, the passage
or narrow gallery which was lighted from the interior and by a small
loophole. This passage did not run horizontally, but rose unequally, and
without were steep steps leading to a false portal. This served as a
military stratagem, by means of which in the most desperare
circumstances the conflict might be kept up by the besieged even after
the Keep itself had been forcibly entered. Each successive rise in the
gallery was a point which could be defended by the inmates, who, when
driven back, could take up a second position in the same passage, which,
by its elevation, would give them a similar command over their
assailants, while only a few of their own body were exposed at once.
These and similar contrivances and decoys evince great ingenuity on the
part of the architects.

Another peculiarity in Rochester Castle is the absence of the lofty
artificial mound on which so many of the ancient castles are built, and
of which that of Arundel, already described, is an instance. But
Gundulph, the architect who enjoyed “the greatest celebrity in the
reigns immediately succeeding the Conquest, appears to have considered
the artificial mound, originally of Danish usage, as unnecessary.” His
castles are distinguished from all others of that period by their
stately dimensions, and the genius displayed in their design--by the
military contrivances already mentioned, and by the solidity and skilful
execution of the workmanship. His central towers are so lofty as to
contain four distinct floors: in the basement was the dungeon, without
light; while the portal, or grand entrance, was many feet above the
ground, so that the necessity for an artificial mound was greatly
obviated. But his greatest merit consisted in various architectural
contrivances, by means of which as much security was afforded to his
Keeps, as by their elevation and real strength.[142] Bishop Gundulph
died at the commencement of the twelfth century, but having completed
the Tower of London and the Castle of Rochester, he may be considered as
having invented and left models of that description of castle
architecture, which, in the opinion of all competent judges, bear ample
testimony to his abilities as an architect. He was consecrated bishop of
Rochester by his illustrious patron the archbishop Lanfranc, in March,
1077, and lived thirty years in possession of the see. He is said to
have been “the first who introduced the architectural ornaments of the
Norman style both within side and without.” Of this, the interior of the
state apartments affords abundant evidence; and whoever takes a view of
these from the <g>West Gallery</g> leading round the inside of the court,
cannot fail to be struck with the beauty of the chevron mouldings by
which the principal arches of the doors and windows are all elaborately
adorned. In many instances these mouldings appear quite sharp, as if
fresh from the sculptor’s chisel.

[Illustration]

In the Castle of Rochester there is another portion in the basement
story which is well deserving of attention. Over the present entrance is
a temporary scaffolding of wood, supported by props of the same material
inserted into the masonry beneath. On the left is a small arch with an
inner doorway; and immediately under the platform is one of larger
span, showing the thickness of the wall. Within the latter, which is of
strong compact workmanship faced with small blocks of stone, is a
staircase, consisting of a flight of Caen stone steps which lead to the
inner gallery, and thence to all the apartments. From this the light
penetrates the enclosure underneath, streaming down the steps, but in
such a manner as to increase rather than diminish the effect produced by
a survey of this melancholy receptacle. It was through this passage
that, in feudal times, the prisoners and military captives were
introduced to that destination which awaited them at the hands of the
feudal lord. Standing in this dreary vestibule, with the door of the
prison on the left, and the archway and main staircase that communicated
with the Baron’s Hall on the right, it requires but little force of
imagination to conjure up one of the many scenes of mingled triumph and
despair which must have often met and exchanged glances under that very
arch. The same victory which awoke the sounds of festive mirth in the
Hall, and summoned the Baron and his warlike knights to the feast,
consigned his prisoners to the dungeon, where the bitterness of their
fate was increased by their conscious vicinity to the Banquet Hall. Odo,
it may be presumed, made much use of this gloomy appendix to his Castle;
for the vast treasures which he collected during his occupation of the
fortress were not secured without the frequent imprisonment and
oppression of his vassals, and of those wealthier individuals in the

[Illustration]

county over whom his judicial authority extended. During the time he
exercised an almost unlimited power as Earl of Kent, and kept his court
in this Castle, most of the old writers agree in representing him as an
avaricious tyrant, whom the desire of riches impelled to the commission
of every crime, and from whose prison nothing could ransom the captive
but his gold. His grand object in accumulating so much wealth was to
facilitate his advancement to the Papal crown, to which he ardently
aspired. But his ambition was happily defeated by the measures already
mentioned. The haughty prelate was himself thrown into prison; while the
unhappy victims who filled the cells of Rochester Castle saw the prison
doors burst suddenly open, and under that very arch, perhaps, met the
welcome of those who had long regarded it as the living tomb of all
their earthly hopes.

<g>Environs.</g>--The principal object in the immediate vicinity of the Castle
is the Cathedral; but as that will be made the subject of a future
article, the next prominent feature in the landscape is the Bridge. The
first historical mention of a bridge at Rochester occurs in the various
accounts of the siege, to which we have already adverted. “Now am I come
to the bridge over the Medway,” says Lambard, “not that alone which we
presentlie behold, but another, also more ancient in time though less
beautiful in work, which neither stoode in the self same place where
this is, neither yet verie farre off; for that crossed the water over
against Stroud Hospital, and this latter is pitched some distance from
thence towards the south.”[143] “That old worke being of timber
building, was fyred by Symon, the Earl of Leycester, in the time of
Henry the Third; and not full twentie yeares after, it was borne away
with the ice in the reign of King Edward, his sonne.” Kilburne, in
addition to the above, says, that “Fitzwalter put out the fyre and saved
it.” This, however, appears contrary to the fact; for in his attempt to
co-operate with Albini, Fitzwalter marched no “further than Dartford,
and then marched back again.” It was not till two years after that
Leicester set fire to it in the manner described, when the wooden tower
and arches were burnt down.

Dr. Thorpe, in his Antiquities, was of opinion that the first bridge
over the Medway at this point, namely between Rochester and Stroud, was
built in the reign of Edgar the Peaceable.[144] It is certain, however,
that there was a bridge here before the Conquest, and that on divers
tracts of land an annual tax was imposed for keeping it in repair. This
is proved by several very ancient MSS., one of which, in the Saxon
language, marks with exactness such portions of the work as were to be
executed by the respective landlords. The bridge was then of wood, and
placed in the line of the principal streets of Rochester and Stroud; it
was four hundred and thirty feet in length, nearly the present breadth
of the river at this place, and consisted of nine piers with eight
spaces or arches. But the depth of water, its constant rapidity, the
occasional roughness of the tides, and the shocks of large bodies of ice
at the breaking up of winter, occasioned such frequent and severe
damage, that the repairs became a heavy burden to the owners of the
contributory lands.[145]

In a petition presented to Parliament at the end of the fourteenth
century, the landholders who were taxed for the repairs of the bridge
were represented as having been nearly reduced to ruin in consequence,
and that the bridge at the same time was very unsafe for passengers.
Under these circumstances, Sir Robert Knowles and Sir John de Cobham
built at their joint expense the present bridge, thereby relieving
private individuals from an oppressive tax, and conferring a lasting
benefit on the public. In the reign of Richard II. a patent was obtained
from the crown, which was afterwards confirmed by the Parliament, for
constituting the proprietors a body corporate, under the title of
Wardens and Commonalty, and a license granted enabling them to receive,
and hold in mortmain, lands and tenements to the amount of two hundred
pounds per annum. Sir John Cobham was the first and greatest benefactor,
and his example was followed by such liberal donations from others that
the estates usually termed proper, became in process of time justly
adequate to the repairs of the bridge, without levying any assessment on
the contributory lands.[146]

[Illustration]

Until the erection of that at Westminster, Rochester Bridge was justly
considered the second in the kingdom; and even now, after the splendid
structures which have sprung up in recent times, it is still an object
of great elegance and beauty. Its original length was four hundred and
sixty feet by fifteen in breadth. It consisted of eleven arches, the
largest of which had a space of forty feet, and the others above thirty.
At one of these spaces between the piers was formerly a drawbridge, by
means of which the castellan who held command of the fortress could
break off all communication with the opposite banks of the river. The
greatest water-way is three hundred and forty feet. Joneval,[147] in his
Travels, makes a mistake in supposing that this bridge “is founded on a
rock;” the piers rest on wooden piles, and to have laid the foundation
of so massive a fabric in a river where the flux and reflux of the tide
are so strong, must have been an arduous undertaking. Unfortunately the
name of the architect has not descended to posterity, but the bridge is
a lasting monument to his genius.[148]

At the east end of the bridge was formerly a chapel, founded by Sir John
Cobham, with an endowment of eighteen pounds a year, payable out of the
bridge lands, for the support of three priests. According to the rules
established by the founder, three masses were to be said daily; the
first between five and six in the morning, the second between eight and
nine, and the third between eleven and twelve o’clock, so that
travellers might have an opportunity of being present at the sacred
offices. But at each mass there was to be a special collect for all the
benefactors to the bridge, living or dead, and for the souls of Sir John
Cobham and others, whose names were to be recited. There was another
chapel at the west end of this bridge, but its exact site is not known.

<g>Memorabilia.</g>--When the Emperor Charles the Fifth made his second visit
to England, in the summer of 1522, he arrived at Rochester on the second
of June, where he was received by Henry the Eighth, and set out on the
following day for London, or rather the royal palace of Greenwich. It
was at Rochester, also, that King Henry had his first interview with
Anne of Cleves, whose reception at Blackheath has been already
described. Her picture, it is said, had been drawn in so flattering a
manner by Holbein, that the amorous monarch, impatient to see the
original, set out incognito for Rochester on the morning of her expected
arrival in that city, and in the evening was among the first to bid her
welcome. The painter, however, was detected in having practised a great
deception: Anne was not the divinity represented on the canvas; Henry
was disappointed, and is recorded to have vented his chagrin in terms
far from complimentary to the Lady Anne, or the minister who had
negotiated the alliance. This, however, he disguised; and before taking
leave presented her with a “suit of sables, as a new year’s gift.”

In April, 1556, Rochester was the theatre of one of those horrid scenes
which disgraced the reign of Queen Mary. John Harpole, of St. Nicholas
parish, and Joan Beach, of Tunbridge, were burnt alive as heretics,
according to the sentence of Maurice Gryffith, bishop of the see, for
denying the authority of the Church, and the transubstantiation of the
sacramental elements.--See History of Rochester, with biographical
notices of the bishops.

Queen Elizabeth, who took great pride in superintending the naval
department, in which she foresaw the only sure bulwark of her empire,
made it her custom to visit, among many other places in Kent, Chatham
Dock-yard. On one occasion she spent four days at the Crown Inn of
Rochester; but on the fifth accepted the hospitality of one of her loyal
subjects, Mr. Watts, at his house at Boley Hill, near the Castle; to
which, according to tradition, she gave the title of _Satis_ as
expressive of her satisfaction with her entertainment.

On the return of King Charles the Second to England, he was received at
Rochester with demonstrations of loyalty, and conferred the honour of
knighthood on two gentlemen of the place, named Clarke and Swan. The
Mayor and Corporation at the same time presented his Majesty with a
silver basin and ewer, which were “graciously accepted.” Here, also,
James the Second arrived after his abdication, and continued for a week
under the protection of a Dutch garrison; but, apprehensive of his
personal safety, he went privately on board a tender, set sail, and,
with the Duke of Berwick and others of his suite, landed at Ambleteuse
in Picardy.

Another object of no little interest, on the opposite side of the river,
is Upnor Castle, famous in history for the attack made upon it by
Admiral Van Ruyter.[149] Having burnt the storehouses, and blown up the
fortifications at Sheerness, Van Ruyter despatched the second Admiral,
Van Ghent, up the Medway, which Monk, Duke of Albemarle, had secured as
well as the circumstances of the case would allow. But a strong east
wind and springtide bringing up the enemy with resistless force, a chain
was immediately broken; three Dutch ships, taken in the war and
stationed to guard the chain, were set fire to by Van Ghent to retrieve
his country’s honour; and, pressing forward between the sinking ships,
he brought six of his men-of-war and fire-ships in front of Upnor
Castle. Major Scott, who had command of the fort, gave them as warm a
reception as the condition of the place would permit, and was well
seconded by Sir Edward Spragge, who had escaped from Sheerness, and now
opened his guns upon the enemy from a battery at Cockham Wood.[150] The
Dutch, however, seized the hull of the Royal Charles, and on their
return burnt the Royal Oak, and much damaged two other ships of the
line. Captain Douglas, who commanded the Royal Oak, was burnt in his
ship, although he might easily have escaped. But “No!” said this
intrepid commander, when he perceived the danger and was urged to
strike, “No--it was never known that a Douglas left his post without
orders;” and thus resolved, he perished in the flames.

Among the numerous tourists who have made Rochester and its Castle the
subjects of remark, is the celebrated Hogarth, who, in company of four
of his intimate friends, Tothall, Scott, Thornhill, and Forrest, made an
excursion of four days to this part of the county in May, 1732, which is
amusingly detailed in a short folio brochure, accompanied with ten
illustrations and caricatures of their adventures, and published in
1781.

[Illustration]

<g>Classical Scenes.</g>--To every reader of Shakspeare the names of Gadshill,
Falstaff, and Prince Hal, will conjure up many ludicrous associations;
and few travellers will enter Rochester from the west, without a short
halt on this poetical ground,--the spot where Prince Henry and his
dissolute associates robbed the Sandwich carriers, and the auditors who
were carrying money to the royal exchequer. Theobold mentions that he
had read an old play, in which the scene opens with Prince Henry’s
robberies, and Gadshill is there named as one of the gang.[151] A
comfortable inn, with a characteristic sign of Falstaff on one side, and
Prince Hal on the other, invites him to alight for half an hour, and
over a “cup of sack” peruse that mirth-moving scene in the first Part of
“Henry the Fourth,” which has conferred immortality on the spot:--


     ACT II. SCENE II.--_The Road by Gadshill._

     _Enter_ PRINCE HENRY _and_ POINS; BARDOLPH _and_ PETO _at some
     distance_.

     _Poins._ Come, shelter, shelter; I have removed Falstaff’s horse,
     and he frets like a gummed velvet.

     _Pr. Henry._ Stand close. [_Enter_ FALSTAFF.]

     _Falst._ Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!

     _Pr. Henry._ Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal: what a brawling dost
     thou keep!

     _Falst._ Where’s Poins, Hal?

     _Pr. Henry._ He is walked up to the top of the hill; I’ll go seek
     him. [_Pretends to seek_ POINS.]

     _Falst._ I am accursed to rob in that thief’s company; the rascal
     hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel
     but four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind.
     Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I ’scape
     hanging for killing that rogue. I have foresworn his company hourly
     any time this two-and-twenty years; and yet I am bewitched with the
     rogue’s company. If the rascal hath not given me medicines to make
     me love him, I’ll be hang’d; it could not be else; I have drunk
     medicines.--Poins! Hal! a plague upon you both. Bardolph! Peto!
     I’ll starve ere I rob a foot further. An ’twere not as good a deed
     as drink, to turn true man, and leave these rogues, I am the
     veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven
     ground is three score and ten miles afoot with me; and the
     stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon’t, when
     thieves cannot be true to one another! [_His companions whistle._]
     Whew! a plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues: give me
     my horse, and be hanged!

     _Pr. Henry._ Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear close to
     the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.

     _Falst._ Have ye any levers to lift me up again, being down?
     ’Sblood, I’ll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all
     the coin in thy father’s exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt
     me thus?

     _Pr. Henry._ Thou liest; thou art not colted--thou art uncolted.

     _Falst._ I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good
     king’s son!

     _Pr. Henry._ Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler?

     _Falst._ Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters. If I
     be ta’en, I’ll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you
     all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison. When
     a jest is so forward, and afoot to,--I hate it. [_Enter_ GADSHILL.]

     _Gads._ Stand!

     _Falst._ So I do, against my will.

But we must here close the quotation. The reader will readily imagine
himself a spectator of the scene, where the thieves rob the true men,
and where retaliation is made upon the thieves by “two of their own
gang, in forcibly taking from them their rich booty;” and he will again
enjoy the conceit of Falstaff with his cups of limed sack, telling
“incomprehensible falsehoods,” in order to cover his own cowardice; his
long rencounter with the two “rogues in buckram suits, growing up into
eleven,” all of whom he peppered and payed till three misbegotten knaves
in “Kendal green (“for it was so dark, Hal, thou couldst not see thy
hand!”) came at his back and let drive at him!” Thus, on the stage, in
the closet, on the road--as a local writer has well observed--Falstaff’s
adventure at Gadshill is likely to be “not only an argument for a week,
laughter for a month, but a good jest forever.”

     AUTHORITIES:--Radcliffe.--Caumont.--Culmien.--Hasted.--France
     Monumentale.--Matth. Paris.--Hist. Angl.--Hist. of Eng. Civil and
     Milit.--Pictorial Hist. of Engl.--Holinshed.--Fabyan.--Hist. and
     Antiq. of Rochest.--Hist. of the Castle and Cathed.--Lambard,
     1576.--Kentish Tourist.--King.--Grose.--Denne.--Kilburne.--Local
     Pamphlets.--Dallaway.--Milit. Archit.--Discourses, Antiquities of
     Kent.--Hardynge.--Registrum Roffense, by Thorpe.--Eadmer.--Polyd.
     Virg.--Selecta Monumenta.--Camden.--Somner.--Battely.--Antiq.
     Itiner., etc. etc.

[Illustration: TEWKESBURY ABBEY.]




[Illustration: May iiii. MCCCCLXXI.]




THE ABBEY OF TEWKESBURY,

<g>Gloucestershire.</g>

    Ampla foro, et partis spoliis præclara, THEOCI
    Curia, Sabrinæ quà se committit Avona,
    Fulget; nobilium sacrisque recondit in antris
    Multorum Cineres, quondam inclyta corpora bello.--LELAND.


<g>FOUNDATION.</g>--In his desire to do more especial honour to Tewkesbury,
William of Malmesbury has fancifully traced its etymon to the Greek word
_Theotocos_[152]--the Mother of God--because the monastery which was
built here was dedicated to the Virgin Mother. It is certain, however,
that the town occupied the ground long before the monastery was erected.
The popular tradition is, that a religious recluse, named Theocus, had
a Christian cell or chapel in this place about the end of the seventh
century--“ubi quidam heremita manebat nomine Theokus, unde
Theokusburia”--and that from him the “Curia Theoci” was in process of
time modified into Tewkesbury. In Weever’s Funeral Monuments, however,
there is an ancient Saxon inscription, discovered in the church of
Leominster at the close of the sixteenth century, which states that, in
the Saxon era, Tewkesbury was called [Illustration], that is,
Theotisbyrg, from which it would appear that Tewkesbury was the town,
castle, or borough of Theot. Others, by conjectures equally vague or
plausible, have laboured to prove that the name is derived from Dodo or
Thodo, one of the first lords of the manor, and founder of the
monastery, adducing as corroborative evidence that the Ð and _Th_ are
frequently substituted for each other in the Saxon language; wherefore,
say they, from Thodo comes the Latin derivative Theodocus, and from
that, Teodechesberie, as in Domesday Book. But further, it has been
conjectured that Theocus and Dodo, or Thodo, were one and the same
person; and those who are curious in the investigation of such questions
will find the subject elaborately discussed in all the principal
histories of the county[153] and abbey.

The foundation of this Abbey takes precedence of most others in the
kingdom, and dates from the first fifteen years of the eighth century.
In the reigns of Ethelred, Kenred, and Ethelbald, kings of Mercia, two
brothers, with the euphonious names of Odo and Dodo, flourished in this
beautiful district, and adorned their high station by the practice of
many Christian virtues and pious examples. Of their zeal for the honour
of God they were resolved to leave some permanent evidence to posterity,
and with this view selected a suitable spot on their manor of
Tewkesbury, and there erected[154] the monastery which in after times
became famous throughout the land. They endowed the abbey with much
landed property--Stanwey cum membris, sic dicta, Tadington Prestecote et
Didcot[155]--which continued to form part of the abbey revenues till the
Dissolution. The institution gradually extended its authority temporal
and spiritual, and acquired a reputation for so much sanctity, that to
obtain a grave in its sacred enclosure became an object of devout
competition among the pious, and brought no little treasure to the
prior’s exchequer.

The first personage of royal dignity who was buried in the Abbey was
Brictric, king of the West Saxons, and son-in-law to King Offa. The next
was Hugh, a Mercian noble, and patron of the abbey, who had procured
for it the distinction of a royal mausoleum in St. Faith’s Chapel; to
which his own remains were afterwards consigned, with all the monks
attending in solemn procession, and chanting his requiem.

[Illustration]

Towards the middle of the tenth century, Haylward Snew, descended from
King Edward the Elder, founded a monastery on his own manor at
Cranburne,[156] in Dorsetshire, and to this he subjected the priory of
Tewkesbury, of which he was patron. Historians give him the credit of
having possessed, in an eminent degree, the virtues of personal valour
and earnest piety; and of the latter, no better proofs could be adduced
than the fact of his having bestowed much of his substance upon the
church. Algar, his eldest son and successor, did not long enjoy his
inheritance; and to him succeeded his younger brother, Brictric, of whom
the annexed adventure is recorded.[157]

[Illustration]

When the Battle of Hastings had secured a vacant throne to William the
<g>Conqueror</g>,[158] Brictric was among those patriotic chiefs who survived
that decisive field, and afterwards retired to the banks of the Severn,
to concert measures for the recovery of the Saxon throne, or to bury his
vain regrets in the bosom of his faithful friends and retainers. By one
of those strange accidents, however, which frustrate all preconcerted
schemes, Brictric’s hopes of freedom were completely blasted. Great as
the grief of Maud had been at his abruptly quitting her father’s court
in Flanders, as stated in the preceding note, it was not of long
duration; for the Duke of Normandy having shortly after solicited her
hand, and as such a union offered her no distant prospect of avenging
herself, she at once assented. The marriage was solemnized. She was
carried in triumph to Normandy; and now, when the subjugation of England
had been effected, she did not lose the opportunity thereby afforded of
resenting the slight which the impolitic Brictric had offered to her
beauty. He was accordingly denounced as an enemy to the new dynasty; and
the strongest argument produced against him being that he was a brave
man, with a broad tract of country which he called his own, the evidence
in proof of his disaffection to the Conqueror was conclusive. Maud, the
queen, too, was actively employed in expediting the measures instituted
against him--

    Could she forgive him!--no! it was her duty
    To crush a wretch that could resist such beauty.

One night, therefore, while returning from vespers, Brictric was seized
at the door of his own manor of Hanley, and sent under a Norman guard to
Winchester, where he pined for some time, oppressed with the double
weight of degradation and imprisonment, and at length died without
issue. His estates, in the meantime, had been given to Queen Maud, who
enjoyed their revenues till her death; after which they were
incorporated with the other royal demesnes of King William.

At the death of the Conqueror, they passed to his son Rufus, who some
time afterwards bestowed Brictric’s Honor of Gloucester upon Robert
Fitz-Hamon, son of Hamon Dentatus, Lord of Corboile in Normandy, as a
reward for many important services performed in defence of his father’s
crown.[159]

This Robert Fitz-Hamon may be considered the second founder of
Tewkesbury Abbey; for, at the instance of Sybil his wife, and
Giraldus[160] Abbot of Cranburne, he rebuilt the church with all its
appendages, and endowed it with many large possessions.[161] In
confirmation of the elegance and liberality with which this was
accomplished--“It cannot be easily reported,” says William of
Malmesbury, on two several occasions, “how highly Robert Fitz-Hamon
exalted this monastery, wherein the beauty of the buildings ravished the
eies, and the charity of the holy brotherhood allured the hearts of all
who repaired thither.”[162] This great and pious undertaking is stated
to have been accomplished as an act of atonement and public satisfaction
for the destruction of the church of Bayeux in Normandy, which King
Henry had burnt in order to liberate him from prison; but which, struck
with remorse at the sacrilege, he afterwards re-edified and restored.

[Illustration]

Having rebuilt the Abbey of Tewkesbury in the manner stated, and finding
that it became more and more an object of attraction among pilgrims and
devotees, Fitz-Hamon changed the Abbey of Cranburne into a priory, and
made it subject from that time forward to the “<g>Blackfriars</g>” of
Tewkesbury[163]--so called from the black habit worn by monks of the
Benedictine order.

But, to preserve the name of the founder in that sanctity to which his
piety and good works had given him so just a title, a prior and two
monks were left to minister in holy offices at Cranburne, so that the
cause of true religion might suffer no detriment by the transfer thus
effected. The situation of the New Abbey, in the centre of a fair and
fertile country, variegated with beautiful landscapes, curtained almost
round by green-wooded hills, and watered by noble rivers, presented all
that could be desired for the advancement of those worldly objects in
which men so spiritually-minded might be supposed to take any interest.
With the completion of the New Abbey prosperity took up her abode under
its immediate wing: habitations multiplied, trade was introduced, the
produce of the adjoining vale increased with the demand, and the
population was rapidly improved. In process of time the abbey was almost
surrounded by a thriving town; while money, freely circulated by
commerce, as well as by the better class of pilgrims, improved the
general appearance of the habitations, and gave an air of cheerfulness
and prosperity to the town and abbey.

Fitz-Hamon, who just lived long enough to witness the first prosperous
days of the abbey, being general of the king’s army in France, repaired
to the siege of Falaise,[164] in Normandy, where he received a wound on
the temple, and died shortly after,[165] His remains were carefully
brought home and deposited with great solemnity in the <g>Chapter-house</g> of
the Abbey, of which the arcade mouldings, vaulted ceiling, pillars,
buttresses, and pointed doorway, retain

[Illustration]

much of their original beauty. It is now the grammar-school of the
place. But in this part of the abbey, hereafter to be described, his
relics were not permitted to rest more than a hundred and thirty-four
years; they were then removed by Robert, the third abbot of that name,
and interred in a plain tomb between two pillars on the right side of
the Chancel, which, with the Chapter-house, will be noticed in a
subsequent page.

[Sidenote: 1397. {]

One hundred and fifty-six years later, Thomas Parker, the eighteenth
abbot, caused the original tomb to be enclosed within a richly-carved
chapel, “satis mirifice tabulatam,” and appointed a mass to be
celebrated every day for the souls of Robert Fitz-Hamon, and Sybil his
wife. By this lady he left issue four daughters, co-heiresses to vast
possessions which, during his active services in places of the highest
trust under government, had greatly accumulated during the last two
reigns. But King Henry, who was averse to seeing the Honor of Gloucester
thus subdivided, adopted such arbitrary measures as effectually
prevented the execution of the testator’s will, and disposed of his
daughters in the following manner:--Hawise he made Abbess of Chichester;
Cecilia he appointed Abbess of Shaftesbury; Amicia he gave in marriage
to his firm adherent, the Earl of Brittany; and to Robert, his natural
son, by the daughter of Rhys ap Tewdwr, Prince of Glamorgan, he united
Mabilia, the eldest. Thus the four daughters of Fitz-Hamon were fairly
settled by “royal authority,” and the estates concentrated upon his son,
Earl Robert, and his descendants. But Mabilia, it appears, expressed
some reluctance when this alliance was first proposed by the king,
alleging that, as his son Robert had then no baronial title nor high
military standing in the country, such a union was neither agreeable to
her taste nor suitable to the rank and possessions bequeathed to her by
so many illustrious ancestors. These objections, as stated by the
monk[166] of Gloucester, were too reasonable and well grounded to be
confuted by the mere art of logic; but the king found a much more speedy
and effectual way of removing them, by creating his son Earl and Consul
of Gloucester, and installing him in the various high offices therewith
connected. Of this earl, as the reader may remember, we have already
spoken in a previous division of this work, when adverting to the
Empress Maud, daughter of King Henry. “He was unquestionably,” says
Lyttleton, “the wisest man of those times; and his virtues were such
that even those times could not corrupt it.” It is to Count Robert of
Gloucester that William of Malmesbury dedicates his work, and speaks of
him in these terms: “Nullum enim magis decet bonarum artium esse
fautorem quam te; cui adhæsit magnanimitas avi, munificentia patrui,
prudentia patris, &c.... Consentaneous ergo sibi mores experiuntur in te
literati, quos citra intellectum ullius acrimoniæ benignus aspicis,
jucundus admittis, munificus dimittis. Nihil plane in te mutavit fortunæ
amplitudo nisi ut pene tantum benefacere posses, quantùm velles.”

But the trait of character which connects Earl Robert more immediately
with our subject is, that every Sunday throughout the year he had the
Abbot of Tewkesbury and twelve of the monks to dine with him, thereby
keeping up a most friendly understanding with the Church, patronizing
learning and all who excelled in the arts, and building various castles
and priories. He founded the priory of St. James in Bristol, and made it
subject to the Abbey of Tewkesbury. But although he patronized the
latter in an eminent degree, he chose the priory for his last
resting-place, and was there buried in the choir, under a tomb of green
jasper.[167]

It was during the life of this earl, that Walleran de Beaumont, a
younger son of the Earl of Leicester, and Count of Meulant, ransacked
the town of Tewkesbury, which, judging by the quantity and value of
plunder carried off, must have been, even at that early period, a town
of no little opulence.[168] In this raid, however, the goods of the
Abbey were respected; for to such men an interdict from the Church was
more terrific than “an army with banners.”

William, son and heir to Earl Robert, and his wife Matilda, confirmed
all the charters which had been granted by his ancestors to the Abbey of
Tewkesbury, and certified his approbation by conferring upon it several
fresh endowments. He died in 1283, when the estates of the earldom were
again vested in three daughters. But the policy which had been adopted
by King Henry was again employed by King Richard, who had bestowed the
youngest of the three heiresses with the earldom and its domains upon
his brother John--a name sufficiently notorious in these pages--but by
whom she was divorced shortly after his accession to the throne. Mabel
or Mabilia, the eldest daughter of Earl William, married the Count
d’Evreux in Normandy, by whom she had a son, Almeric Montfort, who died
about the year 1221, leaving no children by his marriage. But the second
daughter, who had married Richard de Clare,[169] Earl of Hertford, had a
son, Gilbert de Clare, who, on the failure of the previous branches, was
admitted to the honours of Gloucester and Glamorgan, as his legal
inheritance, and was the first who held conjointly the earldoms of
Gloucester and Hertford. He resided at Holme Castle, a feudal residence
which crowned an eminence in the near vicinity of Tewkesbury, and
married Isabel, daughter of William Marshall,

[Illustration: IN ECCLES. NOSTRA DE THEOKES. IN MEDIO PRESBYTERIO. A.D.
MCCXXX.]

Earl of Pembroke. He was a great benefactor of the monastery, and dying
in 1230, was buried in the middle <g>Chancel</g> of the Abbey church--the view
of which is strikingly grand--with all the ceremony due to his rank and
liberality.

His son Richard de Clare succeeding to the family titles and estates,
supported the baronial character of his ancestors, and is recorded to
have held a magnificent Christmas in his castle at Tewkesbury, where
sixty knights were in waiting. In July 1262, “beyng with King Henry in
Fraunce, this Richard Counte de Glocestre dyed of the febre quartane,
and was buryed at Tukesbyri Abbay, where aboute his toumbe be wryten his
noble actes.”[170] Of his body there was a tri-partition: the bowels
were bequeathed to the church of Canterbury; his heart to that at
Tunbridge, and in the Abbey of Tewkesbury, on the right side of his
father’s tomb, his body was deposited with great pomp, graced by the
presence of two bishops, twelve abbots, and a great company of barons,
knights, and other personages, who had repaired from all quarters to
offer their testimony of respect to his memory. His tomb was
subsequently adorned at vast expense by his Countess Matilda, daughter
of the Earl of Lincoln. It was embellished with gold and precious
stones, with an effigy in silver of the sword and golden spurs which he
had lately worn in battle. The inscription was: _Hic. pudor. Hippolyti:
Paridis. gena: Sensus. Ulyssis: Æneæ. pietas: Hectoris. ira. jacet._
This monument has long been removed or demolished.

To Earl Richard[171] succeeded Gilbert the Red--so named, like Rufus,
from the colour of his hair. He married Alice, daughter of Guy Count of
Angoulême, niece to King Henry the Third, but having obtained a divorce
against this lady, took for his second wife Joan d’Acres, daughter of
Edward the First. This earl, according to Leland, dealt hardly with the
Abbey of Tewkesbury, and took away the benefactions of his grandfather,
Earl Gilbert, but which were subsequently restored by his son. He died
at his castle of Monmouth, and was buried in the Abbey of Tewkesbury,
near the tomb of his predecessors, leaving issue one son, Gilbert, the
third earl of that name, who married the lady Matilda, a daughter of
John de Borow, Earl of Ulster, and by this union had one son, who died
in early life, and was buried with his ancestors. The earl himself was
one of those chivalrous nobles who surrounded the throne of Edward the
Second, and fought under his banner. He held a command in the disastrous
expedition into Scotland headed by that unhappy monarch in 1314, and
fell at the battle of Bannockburn, in the twenty-third year of his age,

    When the best names that England knew
    Claim’d in that death-prayer dismal due.[172]

From the field of battle, the body of the gallant earl was conveyed by
his friends and retainers to the Abbey of Tewkesbury, and there, in the
Chapel of the Blessed Virgin, consigned to kindred dust, in the midst of
prayers and lamentations. His death was more especially felt by the
Abbot and brotherhood, because he had liberally repaired the injury
inflicted upon the monastery by his father, and was the last of that
honoured name who held the title and territories of the De Clares in the
county of Gloucester.

In the former part of this work, we have had more than once occasion to
remark how frequently these old family estates and honours passed away
with the female line: and here was another instance. Leaving no issue by
his marriage, the Gloucester and Glamorgan estates devolved upon his
three sisters, among whom they were divided. Elianora, the eldest,
married Hugh le Despenser--a name of tragical association in English
history; and with her the earldom of Gloucester, the third part of the
estates, and the patronage of the Abbey of Tewkesbury, passed into that
family. Five years later, this unhappy nobleman was apprehended, and put
to the cruel and ignominious death related in a former part of this
work. Some portions of his dismembered body, after their miserable
exposure in different parts of the kingdom, “were buried in Tewkesbury
Abbey, near the lavatory of the high altar.” He left by his wife three
sons, Hugh, Edward, and Gilbert, but with no inheritance save the pains
and penalties entailed upon them by his own forfeiture. The <g>Monument</g> of
the <g>Despenser</g> family, hereafter noticed, is one of the finest objects in
the Abbey church.

[Illustration]

The widow of this nobleman--who had lost both her brother and husband by
violent deaths--sought consolation in a second marriage with William,
Lord le Zouch, by whom she had a son, named Hugh. But she survived her
second husband only two years. He was buried in the Abbey chapel of Our
Lady; and at her own demise, the earldom of Gloucester was conferred on
her sister Margaret’s husband, Hugh de Audley.

Hugh le Despenser, eldest son of the unfortunate Hugh by his wife
Elianora, succeeded him in the inheritance of Hanley Castle, Tewkesbury,
Yairford, and other baronies--which were occasionally disunited from the
honour of Gloucester--and married Elizabeth, the widow of Giles de
Badlesmere, and daughter of William de Montacute, Earl of Salisbury.
This earl, among other good gifts, appropriated the church of
Lantrissant to the abbot and convent in succession, from which they
received fifty marks annually. Dying without issue, he was buried on the
right side of the high altar at Tewkesbury. His widow was afterwards
united in marriage to Gwido de Bryen, knight--said by some writers to
have been of the Thomond family in Ireland, and by others, of the
O’Briens of Castle Walwaine in Pembrokeshire--who was buried along with
a numerous line of illustrious persons near the high altar in St.
Margaret’s--or, as it was subsequently called, O’Brien’s
Chapel[173]--one of the chief sepulchral ornaments of the church. This
posthumous distinction was secured by very substantial benefits
conferred on the church in his lifetime.[174]

The tombs of the illustrious individuals above mentioned are all more or
less visible from the same point, and the coup-d’œil is very impressive.

[Sidenote: 1390.]

This distinguished <g>Patron</g> of the monastery died near the close of the
fourteenth century; when the nephew of his wife--Edward, the second son
of Hugh le Despenser the younger--took possession, in right of his aunt,
of the old family estates of De Clare, among which were Hanley Castle,
Tewkesbury Manor, and Malvern Chase. This nobleman espoused Anne,
daughter of Lord Ferrers, and by this marriage left issue four sons,
Edward, Thomas, Henry, and Gilbert. Edward, who was made Knight of the
Garter and summoned to Parliament in the thirty-first year of Edward the
Third, succeeded to the estates of Earl Hugh, his uncle, and married
Elizabeth, daughter of Lord Bartholomew de Burghurst, the king’s
chamberlain. He commanded the rear of the English army during their
fatiguing and perilous march from Calais to Bordeaux in 1373. He gave a
cup of gold to the monastery, and a precious jewel, says the Chronicle
of Tewkesbury, “wonderfully contrived to hold the sacrament on solemn
days.” His eldest son, Edward, died early at Cardiff Castle, and, with
two other children, a brother and sister, was buried in the family vault
at Tewkesbury. At his death, two years after the expedition above
mentioned, Edward left a son, named Thomas, and three daughters,
Elizabeth, Anne, and Margaret, and was buried in the Abbey church of
Tewkesbury, before the vestry door, near the chancel; where his widow,
Dame le Despenser, to perpetuate his memory, built the Chapel of the
Holy Trinity, hereafter mentioned. This lady survived her husband
thirty-three years, and retained, as “her dowry, the lordships of
Hanley, Fairford, and Tewkesbury,” and died at the commencement of the
fifteenth century, when they fell to her grandson Richard, whose father,
Thomas--the second son of the last-named Edward--had fallen a victim to
<g>the axe</g> at the accession of Henry the Fourth. She was buried near her
husband; and during her life, among various other benefactions, she
bequeathed to the Abbey a suit of scarlet vestments, embroidered with
lions of gold--namely, one coat with three royal robes and white
vestments, and fifteen mantles or copes.[175]

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: 1400.]

[Sidenote: 1439.]

Thomas, her nephew above mentioned, married Constance, daughter of
Edmund Langley, Duke of York, and was created Earl of Gloucester by
Richard the Second, in right of his descent from Elianora, wife of Hugh
Despenser the younger. But having taken an active part in the conspiracy
formed to dethrone Henry the Fourth, he was apprehended at Bristol and
executed, and a sentence of attainder passed upon his titles and
estates. He was afterwards buried in the middle of the <g>Choir</g> in
Tewkesbury church, where a lamp was kept constantly burning before the
host. He left two children, Richard, who died at the age of
eighteen,[176] and Isabel, who, succeeding to the family estates, was
married by the Abbot of Tewkesbury to Richard Parker, son and heir of
William Lord Beauchamp, and afterwards Earl of Worcester. At the siege
of Meuse-en-Bry (Meaux) in France, this nobleman was wounded by a stone
cast from a sling, ‘lapide balistæ,’ and dying in consequence, his body
was sent home and interred near the founder’s chapel, between the
pillars at the bottom of the Choir; where the lady Isabel, his widow,
erected a chapel to his memory and dedicated it to St. Mary Magdalen. It
was covered with pictures of our Saviour, the twelve apostles, and
emblazoned with coats of arms--long since defaced. This lady afterwards,
by a papal dispensation, married her late husband’s cousin, Richard
Beauchamp, fifth earl of Warwick, who was governor of France under King
Henry the Sixth, and died at the city of Rouen, leaving issue by the
said marriage a son and daughter, named Henry and Anne. The lady Isabel
was a munificent benefactress of the Abbey of Tewkesbury, having
settled upon it, for the support of six additional monks, lands worth
three hundred pounds per annum. At her death she also left to it all her
jewels and other personal ornaments, valued at three hundred marks
additional, and procured the church of Farrande in the diocese of
Salisbury, and the church of Penmarshe in that of Llandaff, to be
appropriated to this Abbey. Furthermore, she ordered four masses to be
said in the new chapel which she had founded, for the good of her soul
and the souls of her ancestors and successors; and bequeathed to each of
the priests who should officiate two shillings, to be paid weekly. She
also confirmed all the privileges granted to the monastery by her
ancestors, and was buried near the chapel which she had built, with
great funeral pomp, by the bishop of Hereford, her confessor, and the
lords abbots of Tewkesbury and Winchcomb, as specified in the Abbey
Chronicle.

[Sidenote: 1446.]

[Sidenote: 1471.]

Henry Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, son of Richard by Isabel, heiress of
the Despenser family, was about fourteen years old at his father’s
death. He was crowned King of the Isle of Wight by Henry the Sixth, and
at the age of eighteen was created Duke of Warwick, and declared premier
Earl of England. He had the Castle of Bristol given him, with the
islands of Guernsey and Jersey, the patronage of the church and priory
of St. Mary Magdalen of Goldcliff, with leave to annex it to the church
of Tewkesbury. He confirmed the grants made by his predecessors to the
church of Tewkesbury; gave all the ornaments he wore to purchase
vestments for the monastery; died in the twenty-second year of his age;
and was buried in the middle of the <g>Choir</g>. He left issue by his marriage
with Cecilia, daughter of the Earl of Salisbury, one daughter, Anne, who
died in infancy; whereby Anne, his sister, became sole heiress to his
estates. This lady married Richard Nevil, Earl of Salisbury, who in
right of his wife succeeded to the vast united inheritance of the
Despensers and the Beauchamps--families in which the original
possessions had been accumulating for ages. Nevil, in order that his
rank in the peerage might keep pace with this great accession of
property, was now created Earl of Warwick--familiarly known in the
writings of his day as the stout Earl of Warwick, or the King-maker--for
both King Henry the Sixth and Edward the Fourth held or lost the sceptre
at his dictation. His deeds and prowess are familiar to every reader of
history, and will be more particularly noticed when we arrive at that
portion of the work with which the name is more intimately connected.
His death at the battle of Barnet, and the results of the still more
sanguinary battle of Tewkesbury,[177] placed the crown on the head of
Edward,[178] and introduced a new order of affairs in the state.

After the fall of this renowned earl, Anne his countess, “reduced to
great distress, was forced to abscond. King Richard would have willingly
seized on her estates, had not her two daughters, Isabel and Anne, been
his own sisters-in-law; but he put these ladies in possession of them
all by an equal partition of the vast inheritance between them, which
was confirmed by act of parliament.” Isabel, the elder of these
daughters, married <g>George, Duke of Clarence</g>, brother to Edward the
Fourth; and in her division of the family domains, the ancient manor of
Tewkesbury was included. With this lady, therefore, the subject under
consideration is more particularly connected. But she was destined not
long to survive her renowned father, and died in child-bed in the
twenty-fifth year of her age, at Warwick Castle, from which her remains
were conveyed to the Abbey of Tewkesbury, and made the object of a grand
funeral solemnity, which was prolonged to an unusual duration.

[Illustration]

The annexed particulars may give some idea of the gorgeous ceremonial
practised on that occasion:--Lord John Strensham, Abbot of Tewkesbury,
with several other abbots, in the ecclesiastical habits of their order,
and all the brethren of the convent, received her body in the middle of
the choir. The funeral office was first performed by the Lord Abbot and
his brother abbots there present, with the whole of the convent, in nine
lessons; then by the suffragans of the bishops of Worcester and
Llandaff; and lastly, by the dean and chaplains of the Duke of Clarence.
The vigils were observed by the Duke’s own family till the following
day, which was the vigil of the Epiphany. The suffragan of the bishop of
Lincoln celebrated the first mass of St. Mary in the Chapel of the
Virgin; the second mass of the Trinity was celebrated by the Lord Abbot
at the high altar; the suffragan of the bishop of Worcester said the
third mass of “Eternal Rest,” at which Dr. Weld, of the Grey Friars of
Worcester, preached a sermon in the choir before the prelates and monks
there assembled. Mass being ended, the body was left under the <g>Herse</g>, a
fabric erected for that purpose in the middle of the choir, for the
space of thirty-five days, on every one of which the same solemn
obsequies were repeated. The body of this lady was then buried in a
vault behind the high altar, before the door of the Lady Chapel,
opposite that of St. Edward the Martyr’s.--To the fate of George Duke of
Clarence, who only survived his lady about a twelvemonth, we need not
particularly advert in this place. He was also buried at Tewkesbury,
and left issue two children, Edward and Margaret. This Edward
Plantagenet, entitled Earl of Warwick, and heir of Tewkesbury, was first
seized and imprisoned by his uncle, the tyrant Richard; next, for safer
custody, removed to the Tower, by his cousin, Henry the Seventh, and
beheaded on the charge of a pretended conspiracy. But the only crime
that could be alleged against him was his being heir male of the house
of York; and to this and the king’s invincible jealousy he fell a victim
in the flower of his age. But as we shall have occasion to revert to
this subject hereafter, we omit in the meantime this part of the family
history.

Margaret, the only sister of this unfortunate young noble, met with a
fate equally tragical and unmerited on her own part, and disgraceful to
the tyrant by whom it was inflicted. She was married to Sir Richard Pole
in early life, by whom she had a family, and upon an act of attainder
passed against her for corresponding with her son Cardinal Pole, she was
beheaded in the thirty-third year of the reign of Henry the Eighth.

Anne, youngest daughter of Richard Nevil, Earl of Salisbury and Warwick,
was first married to Edward Prince of Wales, son of King Henry the
Sixth, who, being taken at the battle of Tewkesbury, was there murdered
by Richard Duke of Gloucester, whom she afterwards married, and had
issue Edward Prince of Wales, who died not long before his mother, who
is said to have been poisoned by Richard to facilitate his intended
union with his niece, Elizabeth, daughter of Edward the Fourth, and
afterwards queen of King Henry the Seventh.[179]

[Sidenote: 1609.{]

From this period till the accession of Edward the Sixth, the lordship of
Tewkesbury was annexed to the crown. It was then granted to Sir Thomas
Seymour, who held it till his attainder; when it reverted back again,
and continued vested in the crown till the seventh of the reign of James
the First, when it was granted, by letters patent from that monarch, to
the corporation of Tewkesbury, for the sum of “two thousand four hundred
and fifty-three pounds seven shillings and fourpence halfpenny.”[180]

<g>Such is the descent</g> of the manor of Tewkesbury in connexion with the
Abbey to which it gave origin, and with which it was intimately
associated during the long lapse of six or seven centuries.

During the many ages of prosperity which intervened between the period
of its foundation down to that of its dissolution the Abbey of
Tewkesbury is a name of frequent recurrence in history. Its abbots were
generally men of learning, moderation, and piety; and possessed an
influence in public affairs which extended far beyond the jurisdiction
of their convent. They had possessions in ten different counties, and,
with few exceptions, exerted a mild and benignant sway over the monastic
brotherhood, of whose moral and intellectual improvement they were the
watchful guardians. The compliment paid to this Abbey and its numerous
inmates by William of Malmesbury,[181] already quoted, appears to have
been well merited. But in later times it was still more deserving of
admiration. The magnificent style of its architecture, the number and
richness of its shrines, tombs, and chapels, the elegance of design and
beauty of workmanship by which they were distinguished, did honour to
the classical taste of the abbots, and fostered that national love of
the fine arts which has never found more zealous or more munificent
patrons than among the old English Hierarchy.

    They loved the arts: what taste and truth approved,
    What genius formed they patronized and loved.

The Abbey cloisters and offices have almost disappeared; they were
demolished by the commissioners; but, like those of St. Albans, their
remembrance is perpetuated in the sacred edifice of the conventual
church to which they belonged, and which has happily escaped those
violent state commotions which have exploded more than once under its
very walls. Its dimensions bespeak the early importance to which it laid
claim as one of the great temples of the national religion;[182] whilst
the style and elaborate execution exhibited in detail, do full justice
to the noble design of the general mass as it first meets the eye. This
church contains a rich and varied series of monuments, from the “early
style to that of the late perpendicular. They amount to at least a
dozen--all of excellent workmanship, and several of very singular
composition. It contains also several good specimens of stone and iron
work.” It is also enriched with a series of genealogical portraits in
stained glass of the De Clares, the Despensers, and other benefactors of
the Abbey--

         ---- who struggled to keep alive
    The lamp of Hope o’er man’s bewildered lot.

But the <g>Gateway</g> is the only remaining feature that conveys to the
spectator’s mind some idea of what the Abbey itself must have been in
the days of its prosperity. It is a structure of great solidity, finely
proportioned, crowned with embattled walls, and is much admired by
architects and others for the beauty of its Norman arch. In its minuter
features, it displays much of the fine and graceful workmanship usually
observed in <g>Gateways</g> of

[Illustration]

its class and period. Like that of St. Albans, it is said to have been
the prison of the Abbot’s jurisdiction; and certainly no building
connected with the monastery could have been more adapted for a place of
“durance.” It was the strongest portion of the conventual buildings, and
in cases of emergency served the double purpose of prison and barbican.
At the period of the Dissolution it was particularly specified as one of
the conventual buildings that were to be kept up.

    When yonder broken Arch was whole,
    ’Twas there was dealt the weekly dole;
    And where yon mouldering columns nod,
    The Abbey sent the hymn to God.
    So fleets the world’s uncertain span;
    Nor zeal for God, nor love to man,
    Gives mortal monuments a date,
    Beyond the power of time and fate.--SCOTT.

The Abbey church of Tewkesbury presents in design and construction the
characteristic features of its class and era. It is built in the usual
form of a cross; with the central tower, erected over the great arcade
which divides the transepts, and separates the nave from the choir.
“This tower is considered the finest Norman specimen of its kind in
England, and was only equalled by that of Malmesbury, now in ruins. It
was built early in the twelfth century, by Robert, Consul and Earl of
Gloucester, and patron of the Abbey.

[Sidenote: 1130. {]

In the first era of Norman architecture, towers of very large dimensions
and great height were placed within the centre or at the west end of the
cathedral and abbey churches. Many of these now lose the appearance of
their real height from their extreme solidity. This abbey tower, like
those of St. Albans, Lincoln, and others, was originally finished with a
lofty wooden spire, covered with lead;” a plan which is still observed
in Germany, where the church spires, constructed of wood and covered
with tin or iron, serve as distant landmarks to the traveller. In forest
countries this was not only ornamental but necessary. “One of the
earliest deviations from the original timber spire to that of stone was
in that of Salisbury Cathedral.”

The height of the abbey tower is upwards of a hundred and thirty feet.
The height of spires and towers is usually found to be equal to the
height and length of the nave--or, more accurately perhaps, of the
transept. (Mitred Abbeys, Architect. Discourses: Notes.) Externally,
this tower is a very striking feature in the landscape, and is much
improved by the pinnacles at each corner, which, however, are
comparatively modern. The three tiers of arcade mouldings on the outer
walls are highly ornamental, and in the intermediate row intersect each
other, so as to give the whole square mass a light and graceful
appearance.

<g>Cloisters.</g>--There are some traces of the cloisters remaining on the
_South_ side of the _nave_. They were in the perpendicular style, very
rich, and contain the remains of several stalls and screen-work carved
in oak. The windows are very elegant. In several instances the tracery
is quite fresh and highly ornamental. The upper windows are nearly of
the same character, but those underneath are of richer workmanship, with
mullions, transoms, and all the minute chisel-work of the florid style.
This part of the conventual remains is full of interest, and carries
back the spectator into times when the genius of architecture, fostered
by the spirit of religion, shed unrivalled lustre over the land.

    Now, if this <g>Cloister</g>, fallen and gone,
    Ye fain would view as once it shone,
    Pace ye with reverend step, I pray,
    The moss-grown and forgotten way;
    While murmurs low the fitful wind,
    Winning to peace the meeken’d mind;
        And evening, in her solemn stole,
    With stillness o’er those woods afar,
    Leads in blue shade her bright’ning star,
        As spreads the slow gloom from the pole.

Cloisters were first introduced as an appendage to the larger
monasteries, and in this variable climate their use is sufficiently
obvious. They are common to all the chief conventual houses in England;
but the most remarkable and capacious are those of Canterbury,
Salisbury, Norwich, Exeter, and Gloucester. They were particularly
adapted to conventual life; the “ambulatory” round the square, its open
windows that descended by a dividing mullion to the floor,[183] and the
small grass-covered cemetery that occupied the centre of the
enclosure--the silence of the place--the sanctity of every object
around--all favoured a spirit of monastic seclusion, while, at the same
time, the inmates found under these solemn arcades that healthful air,
exercise, and social intercourse which they were not permitted to enjoy
in public.

[Illustration]

The modern entrance to the church is from the north side through a
portal of considerable width and elevation, and is furnished with iron
gates. Over the entrance is a mutilated image of the Madonna, under
whose tutelary guardianship the abbey enjoyed many ages of prosperity.
In one of the round massive columns near the entrance into the north
aisle, is an ancient <g>Piscina</g>, or vessel for holy water; and attached to
the same pillar are two antique alms-boxes, which appear to have been
the expressive monitors of charity during many generations.

The internal area of the church consists of the nave, the transepts,
with two extensive side aisles, and a semicircular aisle surrounding the
chancel. The lateral aisles, which are rather lower than the body of the
church, are divided from the nave by double rows of massive pillars,
which bear the stamp of the twelfth century. In the aisle, which forms a
semicircular sweep from the north to the south ends of the transept is
the modern vestry--an apartment in which the archives of the abbey were
formerly kept. The whole of the interior--the nave, choir, aisles, and
transepts, are rich in the monuments of past ages. Shrines,
tabernacle-work, sacella, tombs, inscriptions, religious imagery,
military and heraldic badges, impart an air of solemn magnificence to
the scene, and address the spectator from every part of the walls. The
principal arcades, by which the nave is divided from the aisles, are
circular, like those in the Cathedral of Gloucester.[184] The centre, or
nave, was highest in most of the great churches, and had a breadth
scarcely less than the space of the pier arches.

<g>The Grand Entrance</g> from the west is the most striking point of view in
the whole structure. The Great West Window is “perpendicular,” converted
into a very lofty Norman arch of great depth, with shafts and mouldings.
“The clerestory windows of the nave are inserted in the Norman arcade;
those of the <g>Choir</g> are of the finest decorated tracery, with
considerable remains of ancient stained glass.” In design and
workmanship the arch possesses nearly every feature that can enter into
the combination of what is beautiful and even sublime in architecture.

The perspective, though injured by modern arrangement--the introduction
of the organ, and the consequent interruption of the grand
coup-d’œil--is still solemn and impressive, and readily suggests to the
mind a clear idea of what it must have been when the eye could range at
once through the whole nave, with nothing between that and the choir to
intercept the view.

[Illustration]

The nave in style and construction is Norman; the piers are round,
massive, and lofty. At the intersection of the cross is the fine Norman
tower, so much admired by all connoisseurs and men practically skilled
in the science of architecture. It is ornamented with rows of arches in
successive stages, both within and without, which give lightness to the
mass, and take off the heaviness that would otherwise mark the
structure.

The choir has a multangular east end, with additional chapels and a
Chapter-house, all of excellent decorated character. Of the windows in
the aisles, some of them are decorated, others perpendicular. The great
window of this arch was thrown down in a storm in 1661, and twenty years
elapsed before it was restored.

King selects the <g>Western Portico</g> of Tewkesbury as the grandest in
England in point of extent and effect. The western front, or façade, has
always occupied a prominent part in every large church. “It exhibits in
various instances a gradual alteration of style, from the early Norman
to that at the close of the fifteenth century. In the principal feature,
the entrance doorway, there is a remarkable difference between those in
England and upon the Continent. The German and French _portail_ forms
nearly one half of the total space, and is surmounted by a circular or
rose window of vast diameter;” while in the instance before us, as also
at St. Albans, the doorway bears no relative proportion to the
magnificent window which rises above it.

[Illustration]

<g>Font.</g>--In the south transept is a beautiful baptismal Font, with a
cover, richly carved, and finished with a cross. “The variety exhibited
in the design of these is infinite, and upon no subject connected with
ecclesiastical rites did sculptors exert more fancy and taste than in
the design and workmanship bestowed on the font.” No genuine Saxon work
is so frequent as this; fonts have often survived the church in which
they originally stood, and been preserved as venerable relics of
primitive Christianity. In the present specimen, however, elegance,
design, and execution, not antiquity, are what chiefly claim attention,
and which never fail to receive it from all who are curious in subjects
of this kind.

Towards the close of the fourteenth century, a very ornamental appendage
to fonts was introduced, and chiefly in the eastern counties. These
consisted of carved oaken covers, exquisitely wrought and embellished,
which were suspended from the ceiling, moveable at pleasure, and not
unfrequently consisting of a pinnacle or frame several feet high. They
have been classed by Mr. F. Simpson, in his Series of Baptismal Fonts,
into Saxon, early English, and decorated English of the lower era.--See
Dallaway, Bapt. Fonts, p. 205.

<g>The Roof</g> of this church has a great advantage over that of St. Albans,
being of stone, and forming a magnificent groined vault, the ribs of
which are richly carved at their points of intersection with curious
devices, and ornamented with much beautiful tracery, which at that
height has a particularly delicate appearance. The carvings, where the
ribs cross each other or meet in clusters, are all emblematical of some
passage in Scripture history, commemorative of events in that of the
order of Benedictines, or obscurely referring to others against which
the sculptor’s ingenuity indulged in a satirical humour. But here the
latter is by no means so conspicuous as in others; for in those early
times the ornaments of the churches were made the frequent vehicles of
bitter satire against some rival brotherhood, whose vices, true or
imputed, were hieroglyphically represented in the capitals, corbel
heads, and archways of their respective buildings.

“No instance of a genuine Anglo-Norman building,” says a well-known
authority, “possesses, or was intended to possess, a stone roof, which
is indicated by the position of the capitals. The Norman wooden roof was
open to the timbers, and hence the conflagration of the ancient churches
were disasters of frequent occurrence. That of Tewkesbury was completely
destroyed by fire--“igne consumpta.”

    Far o’er the Severn’s crimson’d flood
      That blazing Abbey flung its fire,
    Till roof, and stall, and shrinèd rood
    Their mass of smoking embers strew’d
      On chancel, nave, and choir.

[Illustration]

<g>Cloister Bell-case.</g>--Among other striking remains of elaborate
workmanship with which the church was so profusely adorned, is a richly
carved fragment, with pinnacles, supposed to have been the case in which
was suspended the Cloister Bell, which at stated hours summoned the
monastic brotherhood to prayers. It is at once elegant in design, and
delicate in execution; and were larger models wanting, it would be
sufficient of itself to illustrate the beautiful style of architecture
to which it belongs.

Summoned by this bell, the whole brotherhood, with the Lord Abbot at
their head, were wont to assemble for vespers; when the well-known hymn,
in commemoration of the early life of their founder, Saint Benedict, was
chanted in full chorus:--

    Ille florentes peragebat annos
    Cum puer dulces patriæ penates
    Liquit, et solus latuit silenti
                Conditus antro.
    Inter urticas, rigidosque sentes
    Vicit altricem scelerum juventam;
    Inde conscripsit documenta vitæ
                Pulchra beatæ.

<g>The Tombs</g> and sepulchral antiquities which here proclaim the virtues of
the dead, and the sorrows of the living, are still numerous, though far
from what they are known to have been at the dissolution of the
monastery. Some of these are elaborate productions, and ably illustrate
that period when the purchase of masses and the erection of costly
sepulchres for the dead were the highest testimonies that could be
offered to their memory. But to secure posthumous fame, liberality to
the church was the surest channel, and of those erected to the great
benefactors of Tewkesbury several remain in good preservation. The most
interesting are those of Isabel, Countess of Warwick; of Hugh, Lord le
Despenser; of Sir Edward le Despenser; of Sir Guy d’O’Brien; of Abbot
Cheltenham; of Abbot Wakeman, &c. But the first in right of precedence,
though not in beauty of design or workmanship, is the tomb of the
founder, Robert Fitz-Hamon, to whose life the reader’s attention has
been already directed. It stood originally in the Chapter-house, where
he was buried in 1107; but in 1241 it was removed to its present
situation in the church, where his bones were deposited with great
solemnity in a tomb of grey marble, and afterwards enclosed with an
altar-chapel by the Lord Abbot Parker. During the improvements which
were made in the church about the end of the last century, this tomb was
opened and examined, when the mortal relics, after an interval of more
than six centuries, were brought once more to the light. At the head of
the stone coffin, between two and three feet long, was a circular sheet
of lead, in the inner fold of which were deposited the thigh-bones and
one arm entire, and which were, beyond doubt, the last earthly remains
of the venerable founder. It was originally ornamented with the
founder’s effigy and other ornaments in brass; but these were all
abstracted during the course of open spoliation which, subsequent to the
dissolution of religious houses, mutilated or destroyed many of the
finest sepulchral antiquities in the kingdom. The inscription which
formerly, in short and simple phrase, directed the stranger to the
founder’s tomb, was cut round the frieze of the chapel:--“In hac capella
jacet Dns. Robertus Filius Hamonis, hujus loci fundator.”--Antiq. of
Tewkesb.

<g>The Chancel</g> (p. 169), where this tomb, with several others, is still
shown, exhibits a combination of magnificent features. It is supported
by six pillars of noble proportions, and over these are seven windows of
stained glass, richly ornamented with effigies and armorial bearings of
the ancient Earls of Gloucester.

    There the lone MONK would muse and read,
      And meditate on sacred lore;
    Or view the WARRIOR on his tomb,
      With raised hands seeming to implore
    Of Heaven a mitigated doom!
    So shaded would each figure lie,
      Tall arches pointing overhead,
    That, though a window placed on high,
      Its gloom through distant colours shed,
    So dim would lie in shades below,
      That whether living shape or dead,
    The monk who gazed might hardly know.

<g>Le Despenser’s Chapel</g>, or that dedicated to St. Mary Magdalen, is a
beautiful specimen of the style called Gothic. The roof is elaborately
carved, supported on slender pillars of marble--now much destroyed. It
was originally adorned with representations of our Saviour and his
apostles, and emblazoned with armorial bearings of the families with
which the Despensers claimed relationship. Under a canopy of state, on
the same side, is another--consisting of three compartments, each
diminishing as it ascends, till the last terminates in a point--with the
effigies of Lord and Lady Despenser, in white marble. The whole of this
shrine is richly carved, and, with its arches and pinnacles gradually
tapering off in the form of an obelisk, is a very elegant and beautiful
object, and well illustrates the florid style so prevalent in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. It was founded by the Lady Isabella
Despenser, the Countess of Warwick already mentioned, in honour of St.
Mary Magdalen. The countess died in the Minories, London, in 1439, and
was buried at the right hand of her father in the choir.--See, _ante_,
p. 179.

The chapel of <g>the Holy Trinity</g>, on the south side of the chancel, was
erected by the Lady Elizabeth, to the memory of her husband, Edward le
Despenser, whose figure as an armed knight, with the bearings of the
family emblazoned on his surcoat, occupies the top in a posture of
supplication. What remains of these chapels is sufficient to show how
highly they must have been ornamented, particularly the roof, upon which
great taste and ingenuity have been displayed.

Nearly opposite the Despenser monument, and in the aisle surrounding the
chancel, is the tomb of Guy d’O’Brien, already mentioned in the
genealogical descent of the manor, as the second husband of the Lady
Despenser. It is of open tabernacle-work, and under the arch is a
recumbent figure of a knight in armour, with the arms of the O’Briens
(Lords of Thomond) and the Montacutes.

Not far from the preceding, is the chapel of <g>St. Edmund the Martyr</g>. The
monument is supported by an arch, under which, according to the fashion
of those days, is a monk in the last stage of emaciation, stretched upon
a shroud, and serving as a moral lesson to his brethren and all
spectators, that to such complexion they must come at last. It is richly
ornamented with Gothic ornaments, all minutely carved; and is understood
to have been designed and executed by Wakeman, who was Abbot of
Tewkesbury at the dissolution of the abbey; but he was not buried here.
In a small chapel adjoining that of the Holy Trinity before mentioned,
is the tomb traditionally known as that of the twelfth abbot, who
presided in this monastery twenty years, and died in the middle of the
thirteenth century. In Willis’s time, says Dyde, there appears to have
been an effigy of this abbot, as that author mentions, that “under this
arch are the effigies of a man lying in full proportion, which,” he
adds, “is said to have been for Robert Fortington, the last abbot.”

Near this are the tombs of two other abbots; one a monument of dark
marble, with the inscription in Saxon letters, of “Johannes Abbas hujus
loci;” and another in the south wall, to the memory of “Alanus Dominus
Abbas.” The latter is a fine example of its kind, and has often been
engraved.

[Illustration]

On the south side, at <g>the Abbots’ Entrance</g> into the church, is a
monument with the arms of the De Clares, Earls of Gloucester, erected,
as it has been conjectured, to the memory of Beaufort, Duke of
Somerset,[185] who was beheaded after the battle of Tewkesbury. But it
is probable, from the arms and other circumstances, that it is rather a
memorial of the De Clares, several of whose name and family are interred
within these precincts. The tomb is close to a rich-pointed doorway in
the south transept, called the Abbot’s entrance, which communicated with
the adjoining cloisters.

On the north side, and under an arch not unlike the preceding, is a
recumbent figure of the unfortunate Lord Wenlock, whom, in a moment of
fierce exasperation, Somerset struck down with his battle-axe in the
field adjoining: but his body, as Leland reports, “was removed to some
other place.”

Under the Tower is a brass plate with an inscription to the memory of
Edward, Prince of Wales, only son of Henry the Sixth, the circumstances
of whose death will be more particularly noticed hereafter. The spot
where he was interred, however, is a mystery; it is merely stated that,
in the common fosse, dug for the reception of the other victims, in the
abbey, the body of the unfortunate prince was included.[186]

    No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
    Nor in sheet, nor in shroud, they bound him.

The epitaphs in the church are numerous--some curious, and all more or
less illustrative of feelings by which, in general, the mourners were
actuated, and of times when a mixture of classic taste and monkish
superstition was the chief characteristic. Out of the many, that which
follows is selected as a specimen. It is taken from a brass plate, on a
stone in the body of the church, and has often been copied. (Histor. and
Antiq. of Tewkes.) “In hoc Tumulo sepulta jacet Amia uxor Johannis
Wiatt, Tewkesburiensis generosi, quæ spiritum exhalavit xxv August., Ao.
Dni.” [Year effaced.] It is an acrostic--_Amie Wiatt._

     In cujus obitum versiculos perlegito subsequentes.

<g>A</g>: A me disce mori, mors est sors omnibus una;
<g>M</g>:   Mortis et esca fui mortis et esca fores.
<g>I</g>: In terram ex terra terrestris massa meabis;
<g>E</g>:   Et capiet cineres urna parata cinis.
<g>V</g>: Vivere vis cœlo, terrenam temnite vitam:
<g>V</g>:   Vita pijs mors est; mors mihi vita pia.
<g>J</g>: Jejunes, vigiles, ores, credasq potenti,
<g>A</g>:   Ardua fac: non est mollis ad astra via.
<g>T</g>: Te Scriptura vocat, te sermo, ecclesia Mater.
<g>T</g>:   Teque vocat Sponsus, Spiritus atque Pater.

<g>N.B. The Area</g> consists of a grand principal aisle or nave, a transept or
cross aisle, and two spacious side aisles, somewhat lower than the main
body of the church, and separated from the nave by two rows of massive
pillars. Also a handsome semicircular aisle surrounding the chancel,
from the north to the south ends of the transepts, in which are the
vestry (where the abbey records were formerly kept), several recesses
and chapels dedicated to the founder, the benefactors, and other persons
of distinction, with several Gothic tombs of splendid execution. We
_recapitulate_ these as the chief features of the Area.

Taking his position in the centre of the chancel, the stranger commands
the most imposing features in the church; the rich groined roof, the
bold massive pillars, the richly-sculptured tombs, the painted windows,
blazoned shields, emblematic groups and Gothic inscriptions--all strike
the mind with feelings of deep solemnity, and carry us back into the
gorgeous imagery of the middle ages. Well may we exclaim with
Quintilian--“En morti sacratos lapides!”--See, _ante_, p. 169.

    <g>There</g>, in their sepulchres of costly art,
    Where still the gold clings to the Parian stone,
    Legend and shield and effigy impart
    The accumulated fame of ages flown,
    O’er sainted dust the classic wreath is strewn.
    But now no mass is said--no requiem sung,
    The priest is mute, the choristers are gone;
    No votive “rose” upon the shrine is hung,
    No flowers upon the FOUNDER’S tomb are flung.

<g>The Chapter-house.</g>--This appendage to the Abbey--in which was the
original tomb of the founder--is considered from the best evidence to be
coeval with the building. Chapter-houses were introduced by the early
Norman prelates, and formed an indispensable adjunct to every cathedral
and monastery subsequently erected under their superintendence. They
were not, however, built as merely necessary to the conventual
establishments, and for assembling the members of the church at their
elections, but they were likewise the depositaries of deceased superiors
and noble benefactors. Here Fitz-Hamon, the great benefactor, or rather
founder of Tewkesbury Abbey, was buried, as already mentioned, but
afterwards removed to a more sacred dormitory within the church. The
approach to the Chapter-house was uniformly through the cloisters, and
in certain instances, as at Chester and Bristol, it had a large
vestibule. That of Tewkesbury is now used as a school. The windows are
lancet-pointed, and round the base and walls are pannellings and arcade
mouldings after the Norman style.--See Discourses on Architecture, with
the Analysis of Conventual Churches.

On the outside of the south wall is “a very beautiful arch, now closed,
which opened a communication between the south aisle and the remaining
abbey and cloisters.” From the style of the remaining arches in the side
walls, the latter appear to have been extremely handsome. In the south
wall, near the vestry door, is the tomb of <g>Alanus</g>--already named--the
friend and biographer of Thomas-à-Becket, who died in 1202. The body is
“deposited in a coffin of Purbeck marble, laid under a very plain
semi-quatrefoil arch.” The coffin was opened in 1795; when the lid was
taken off, the body appeared surprisingly perfect, considering that it
had lain there nearly six hundred years. The folds of the drapery were
very distinct, but from being exposed to the air, the whole very soon
crumbled away, and left little more than a skeleton. The _boots_,
however, still retained their shape and a certain degree of elasticity,
and hung in large folds about the legs. On his right side lay a plain
crosier of wood, neatly turned, the top of which was gilded, having a
cross cut in it. It was five feet eleven inches in length and remarkably
light. On his left side lay the fragments of a chalice.--Sepulch.
Antiq.

<g>Stalls</g> are of the same early introduction as the other Norman
appendages. “When composed of stone,” says the author already quoted,
“they were first used near the altar by the officiating priests in
choirs, and as subsellia in parish chancels.” Those of oak, now seen in
the <g>North Transept</g> of the abbey, formerly stood in the choir. They are
tolerably perfect; and in their canopies much intricate design and
delicate carving are apparent. “In choirs, where many were united in one
general plan, oak was soon introduced in place of stone,” as a material
much better adapted to the purpose of elaborate carving.

[Illustration]

The cenotaph of Abbot Wich is at the entrance of St. Edward’s Chapel; it
represents, as already stated, an emaciated figure, surrounded by the
ensigns of mortality, which seem to address every ear in these emphatic
words--Memento mori!

The east end is hexagonal, separated from the aisles by six short
massive columns supporting pointed arches. Beneath these are some larger
monuments, and over them are windows fitted with painted glass. In two
of them are very curious figures of knights in armour, eight in number,
and represented standing under very rich Gothic canopies, each filling
nearly one of the principal compartments of the windows, some in mail,
others in plated armour. They are said to represent Robert first earl of
Gloucester, the three Gilberts de Clare, Richard de Clare, Hugh le
Despenser the younger, and one of the La Zouch family; all of whom have
been already noticed in the genealogical introduction to this
subject.--History of the County, art. Tewkesbury.

    <g>Benedictine.</g> To fashion my reply to your demand
    Is not to boast, though I proclaim the honours
    Of our profession. _Four emperors_,
    Forty-six kings, and one-and-fifty queens,
    Have changed their royal ermines for our sables.
    These cowls have clothed the heads of fourteen hundred
    And six kings’ sons; of dukes, great marquises,
    And earls, two thousand and above four hundred
    Have turn’d their princely coronets into
    An humble coronet of hair, left by
    The razor--thus.--SHIRLEY.

<g>Tewkesbury Abbey</g> was the last of the monastic establishments in
Gloucestershire which surrendered to the mandate of Henry the Eighth.
The surrender was made, under the convent seal, by John Wich, with
fifteen of the brotherhood, on the 9th day of January, 1539, being the
thirty-first year of the king’s reign, and began in these terms:--“To
all Christian people to whom these presents shall come, We the Abbot,
etc., and Brothers of the said monastery, send greeting. Know ye, that
we upon full consideration, certain knowledge, and mere motion, and for
divers causes just and reasonable moving our souls and consciences
thereto, have freely and voluntarily given and granted to our Lord the
King,” etc.

The clear annual “value of all the possessions belonging to the said
monastery, as well spiritual as temporal, besides £136 8_s._ 1_d._,
granted in fees and annuities to several persons by letters patent,
under the convent seal, for their lives, was £1595 17_s._ 6_d._ The
pensions assigned by the royal commissioners--Southwell, Petre, Kairn,
Price, Kingsmen, Paulett, and Bernars--to the abbot, the prior, and
other members of the establishment, amounted to £532 6_s._ 8_d._,
leaving a handsome balance of £1063 10_s._ 10_d._ in favour of his
Majesty’s exchequer. The keys of the treasury were delivered to Richard
Paulett, receiver; but the records and evidences belonging to the
monastery, which were deposited therein, and the houses and buildings
which were to remain undefaced, were committed to the keeping of Sir
John Whittington. Of the houses and buildings to be preserved were,--the
lodging called Newark, leading from the gate to the <g>Abbot’s Lodgings</g>,
with the buttery, pantry, cellar, larder, kitchen, and pastry thereto
adjoining: the late abbot’s lodging; the hostrey; the great gate
entering into the court, with the lodging over the same; the Abbot’s
stable, bakehouse, brewhouse, and slaughter-house; the almary, barn, and
dairy-house; the great barn next the river Avon; the malt-house, with
the garners in the same; the ox-house in the Penton gate, and the
lodging over the same.”--These afford some notion of the domestic
offices of a lord abbot of that day.

The buildings “deemed to be superstitious or superfluous, and therefore
to be demolished, were the church--but which was happily preserved with
its appendages, and made parochial--the chapels, the cloister, the
chapter-house, the two dormitories; the infirmary, with the chapels and
lodgings within the same; the workhouse, with another house adjoining to
the same; the convent kitchen, the library, the misericorde, the old
hostrey, the chamber and lodgings, the new hall, the old parlour
adjoining the abbot’s lodgings, the cellarer’s or butler’s lodging, the
poultry-house, the garner, the almary, and all other houses and lodgings
not before reserved.”

The list of materials to be converted to the king’s use, and delivered
to the commissioners, were as follows:--the leads remaining on the
choir, aisles, and chapels annexed; “the cloister, chapter-house,
fratery, St. Michael’s chapel, halls, infirmary, and gatehouse, were
estimated at 180 fodder. The bells remaining in the steeple were eight
poizes, by estimation 14,600 lbs. weight.”

The jewels reserved for his Majesty’s use were,--two mitres, gilt,
garnished with rugged pearls and counterfeit stones. The silver plate
consisted of silver-gilt, 329 oz.--parcel of do. 605 oz.--plain silver,
497 oz.--making a total of 1431 ounces, which evinced no great luxury in
that department. The ornaments reserved for his Majesty’s use were,--one
cope of silver tissue, with one chesible and tunicle of the same; one
cope of gold tissue, with one chesible and two tunicles of the same. The
ornaments, goods, and chattels belonging to the said monastery were sold
by the said commissioners, as in a book of sales thereof made appears,
for the sum of £194 8_s._ To money given to thirty-eight religious
persons of the said monastery, £80 13_s._ 4_d._ To one hundred and
forty-four servants, for their wages and liveries, £75 10_s._ Paid the
debts of the said monastery, £18 12_s._ These together made a sum of
£174 15_s._ 4_d._, which deducted from the proceeds of the sale, left a
balance in the commissioners’ hands of £19 12_s._ 8_d._--History of the
Abbey, referring to the Record in the Augmentation-office, dated 38 Hen.
VIII.--Dyde.

The ecclesiastical livings in the gift of the monastery were
numerous;[187] the abbots, who successively presided as the spiritual
lords of Tewkesbury, were twenty-six in number, and filling a long
interval of four hundred and thirty-four years. Their names
are,--Giraldus, 1104; Robert, 1110; Benedict, 1124; Roger, 1137;
Fromund, 1162--during whose abbacy the conventual church was burnt. (A
vacancy occurs here.) Robert II., 1182. (Another vacancy.) Alan, prior
of Canterbury, 1187; Walter, 1202; Hugh, 1213; Bernard, a monk of
Tewkesbury, 1215, but not approved; Peter, a monk of Worcester, 1216;
Robert Fortington, prior of the Abbey, 1232; Thomas Stoke, 1253; Richard
de Norton, 1276; Thomas Kemsey, 1282; John Cotes, 1328; Thomas de Legh,
1361; Thomas Chesterton, 1362; Thomas Parker, 1390; William Bristow,
1414; John Abingdon, 1443; John de Salys; (?) John Strensham--supposed
that in his time the abbey was made parliamentary; Richard Cheltenham,
1481; Henry Bewly, 1509; John Wich or Wakeman, the last abbot, and first
bishop of Gloucester, 1531. The abbey demesnes consisted of Stanway,
modified and enlarged by Abbot Cheltenham; Forthampton, on the right
bank of the Severn, about a mile below Tewkesbury; and Tewkesbury Park,
Manor Place, on the east or left bank of the Severn.--Hist. and Antiq.
of Tewkes. Chron. Series of the Abbots.

<g>Domesday Survey.</g>--In Teodechesberie were fourscore and fifteen hides in
the time of King Edward. Of these forty-five were in demean, and free
from all royal service and tax, except the service due to the lord of
the manor. The manor was in _capite_. There were in demean twelve
plough-tillages, and fifty between the _servi_ and _ancillæ_, and
sixteen _bordars_ in waiting about the hall, and two mills of 20 _sol._,
and one fishery, and a salt-pit at Wich, belonging to the manor.... In
all Teodechesberie there are 120 acres of meadow, and a wood one mile
and a half long, and as much broad.... There are now thirteen burgesses
paying 20 _sol._ a-year; a market, established by the queen,[188] pays
11 _sol._ and 8 _den._ And there is one plough-tillage more, and
twenty-two between the _servi_ and _ancillæ_, a fishery, and a salt-pit,
&c.... This manor of Tewkesbury, when entire in the time of King Edward,
was worth 100 _lib._ Whereas Radulf received 12 _lib._ because it was
spoiled and disordered.... Brictric, the son of Algar, held this manor
in the time of King Edward; and at that time had the underwritten
estates of other thanes under his jurisdiction, &c. &c.--Dyde, 135. [The
Norman pound or _lib._ equal to 12 ounces solid silver = £3 2_s._
sterling; the _sol._ = 3 shillings sterling; 48 Saxon shillings = £1
sterling.[189]--Ibid.]--See References and Authorities.

<g>Environs.</g>--The first locality in the immediate neighbourhood to which
the stranger’s attention is directed is the ancient battle-field, or, as
it is now emphatically called, the “Bloody Meadow.” It was on this
spot--the “field of Tewkesbury,”--that, on the 4th of May, 1471, the
grand question between the rival houses of York and Lancaster was
finally decided. The subject is familiar to every reader of history and
the drama. It is commemorated, with many interesting details, by the old
chroniclers; it is chosen by Shakspeare himself as the closing scene of
one of his most powerful dramas; while the fair author of “Margaret of
Anjou” has made it the theme of a spirited and graceful poem, in which
the morning of the battle is thus introduced:--

    “’Tis May--a bright and cloudless morn
     Smiles on the world--on every thorn
     The newly-open’d blossom glows,
     And rich the woodland music flows;
       Each hails the promise for his own,
     As if the beam on nature’s face
     Shone forth his single crest to grace,
       And spake to him alone.
     Alas! the welkin’s dazzling eye
     But mocks the fleeting pageantry.”

[Illustration]

“When <g>Queen Margaret</g>,” says Grafton, “knew that King Edward was come so
near her, she tarried not long at Bath, but, removing in great haste to
Bristow, sent out certain horsemen to espie whether she might safely
pass ouer the riuer Seuerne, by Gloucester, into Wales, whither she
determined first to go to augment her armie; and then without any delay,
with speere and shielde, to set on her enemyes wheresoeuer they would
abyde.” But having learned from the spies that the city of Gloucester
had been intimidated by Richard, the king’s brother; that the Governor,
Lord Beauchamp, had peremptorily refused to allow her to pass over their
bridge; and that the townspeople were neither to be won by promises nor
deterred by threats, “she shortly departed from Bristow with her armie
to a propre towne on Seuerne-syde, called <g>Tewkesbury</g>. The Lord Beauchamp
tooke from her rere-ward more ordinance than she might have well spared,
which did to her no small prejudice.” The march lasted from sun to
sun--impeded by the wretched cross-roads, and in continual skirmishes
with the enemy.

    “In weary march the night had pass’d,
     And Lancaster with joy espied
     Fair <g>Tewkesbury’s</g> hoary towers at last
     Reflected in Sabrina’s tide.
     Gloster had closed her gates, and sent
     Loud insults from each battlement:
     Nor did the rebel town make known
     Her enmity in scoffs alone;
     For many a mile, from copse and dell,
     As onward passed the arméd train,
     An arrowy shower around them fell,
     And many a gallant form was slain--
     Unseen the hand that brought his bane.
     Bold Beaufort, who the vaward held,
     As morning’s dewy mists dispell’d,
     And Tewkesbury’s turrets tipt with light
     Rose on his view--a welcome sight--
     Through all his host the signal pass’d.”

Here, after their harassing night march, the troops were permitted to
halt for some slight rest and refreshment; and, drawn up close to the
banks of the Severn, could scan during their hasty repast the verdant
field, now bright with the morning sun, over which the angel of
destruction was hovering with outstretched but invisible wings. But full
of hope, and encouraged by the words and presence of the Queen and her
son Prince Edward, who had both shared with them the terrors of the
night, and now anticipated a triumphant day, no thoughts of discomfiture
once crossed the soldier’s mind.

    “On Severn’s banks, in gladsome groups,
     In thoughtless mirth, the scatter’d troops
     Waste the free hour; some cast aside
     Their heavy harness; some divide
     With vigorous arm the opposing tide.
     Nor did the crested CHIEFTAINS scorn
       Their cumbrous helms aside to throw,
     And woo the freshness of the morn
       To fan each gallèd brow.
     And many a richly blazon’d shield
     Lay scatter’d on the dewy field.
     But the loud laugh, the song, the jest--
     Blithe echoes of the careless breast--
     Rose from the _humbler_ swarm; the rest,
     Though thrown aside their _outward_ gear,
     Did still their bosom-burthens bear!”

“When the Queen,” continues the chronicle, “was come to Tewkesbury, and
knew that Kinge Edward followed her with his horsemen at the very backe,
she was sore abashed, and wonderfully amazed, and determined in
herselfe to flie into Wales, to Jasper, Earle of Pembroke. But the Duke
of Somerset willyng in no wise to flie backward, for doubts that he
casted might chaunce by the way, determined there to tarrye to take
suche fortune as God woulde sende.” When Oxford advised that, for
another day at least, and until Pembroke’s reinforcements should have
arrived, the Queen should not hazard a battle, where in point of numbers
the chances were so much against her,--and added that if she did, her
advisers would “think of it ere night,”--

    “Not fight to-day!” cried Somerset:
    “Thy words would tempt me to forget
     That I have seen thee play a part
     Which vouches for thy manly heart.
     ‘Think on’t ere night!’ Why, what care I?
     ’Tis _now_ we’re call’d by Destiny!
     Yes, Oxford, I do hope thy sword,
       Ere this bright morn has pass’d away,
     Shall proudly contradict thy word--
       Yes, Oxford, _we must fight to-day_!”

This resolution having been confirmed by the sanction of the Queen; the
Prince, her son, exclaims, in bitter remembrance of the field of Barnet,
in which both the Nevils had perished--

                          “Is’t not time
      To close the scene of woe and crime!
      This hour _shall_ close it! Ne’er again
    Will I turn back from battle-plain
    A beaten fugitive! Ere Even
      With parting smile shall gild the west,
      This sword shall triumph win, or rest--
    Victory on earth, or--peace in heaven.”

Hereupon “the Duke of Somerset, like a pollitike warriour, trenched hys
campe round about of such an altitude, and so strongly, that his enemyes
by no means easily could make any entry; and further, perceiuyng that
his part could neuer escape without battaile, determined there to see
the ende of hys goode or yll chaunce; wherefore he marshalled his hoste
after this maner: he and the lord Iohn of Somerset, his brother, led the
forewarde; the middle warde was gouerned by the Prince, under the
conduyte of the Lord of Saint Iohns and Lorde Wenlocke, whome King
Edward had highly before preferred, and promoted to the degree of a
baron.” [This fact the chronicler mentions in order, probably, to
account for his subsequent conduct, and to justify the suspicion that he
was not a hearty partisan in the queen’s cause.] “The rere-warde was put
in the rule of the Earle of Deuonshire. When all these battayles were
thus ordered and placed, the Queene and her sonne, Prince Edwarde, rode
about the fielde encouraging their souldiors, promisyng to them, if
theye did shew themselves valiaunt against their enemyes, great rewardes
and high promocions, innumerable gaine of the spoyle and bootye of their
adversaryes, and, above all other, fame and renoune through the whole
realme.”

    “Give me earth’s triumphs,” Margaret cries,
      “This nether world concludes my schemes!
     Ne’er could I teach my soul to prize
       The moping beadsman’s dreams.
     ‘_Victory on Earth!_’--Friends! to this hour
       A whole life’s energies are due!
     Whate’er of ardour, skill, or power,
       Your noble breasts imbue,
     Call to the conflict! loudly call,
     This grasping hour demands them all
     ’Tis a vast moment! ’tis the goal
     Toward which, through years of strife, the soul
     With untied vigour bent its force--
     And _now_ we touch the limits of the course!”

“In the meantime,” says the chronicler, “King Edward, which the day
before had come within a mile of Tewkesbury, put his brother, the Duke
of Gloucester, in the forewarde, and himselfe in the middlewarde; the
Lorde Marques and the Lorde Hastyngs led the rere garde. The Duke of
Gloucester, which lacked no pollicy, valiauntly with his battayle
assaulted the trenche of the Queene’s campe, whome the Duke of Somerset
with no less courage defended. Then the Duke of Gloucester, for a very
pollitik purpose, with all his men reculed backe, the which Somerset
perceiuying, like a knight more couragious than circumspect, came out of
his trenche with his whole battayle and followed the chase, not doubting
but the Prince and the Lorde Wenlocke, with the middlewarde, had
followed just at his backe. But whether the Lorde Wenlocke dissimulated
the matter for King Edward’s sake, or whether his harte serued him not,
still he stoode lookyng on. The Duke of Gloucester, takyng the advantage
that he adventured for, turned again face to face to the Duke of
Somerset’s battayle; which, nothyng lesse thinkyng on than of the
returne, were within a small space shamefully discomfited. <g>Somerset</g>,
seeyng hys unfortunate chaunce, returned to the middlewarde, where,
seeyng the Lorde <g>Wenlocke</g> standyng still, and after having reuyled and
called hym traytor, with hys axe strake the braynes out of his heade.

“The Duke of Gloucester entered the trench, and after him the King,
where, after no long conflict, the Queene’s part went almost all to
wrecke, for the most part were slaine. Some fled for succour in the
thicke of the Parke, some into the Monastarye, some into other places.
The Queene was founde in her chariot almost dead for sorow, the Prince
was apprehended and kept close by Sir Richard Croftes. The Duke of
Somerset and the Lorde Prior of St. Johns were by force taken prisoners,
and many other also. In the field and chase were slaine John, Lord
Somerset, the Earle of Deuonshire,

[Illustration]

Sir John Delues, Sir Edward Hampden, Sir Robert Wychingham, Sir John
Lewkenor, and three thousand other.” In this battle the last blood and
strength of the House of Lancaster being spent, Edward was established

   ----“On England’s royal throne,
    Repurchased by the blood of enemies.--
    What valiant foemen, like to autumn’s corn,
    Have we mow’d down, in tops of all their pride!
    Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown’d
    For hardy and undoubted champions:
    Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
    And two Northumberlands; two braver men
    Ne’er spurr’d their coursers to the trumpet’s sound.
    With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,
    That in their chains fetter’d the Kingly Lion,
    And made the forest tremble when they roar’d.
    Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat.”----

The chronicle then proceeds with the sad detail as follows:--“After the
field ended, King Edward made a proclamation that whosoever could bring
Prince Edward to him alive or dead should have an annuitie of an hundred
pound duryng his lyfe, and the Prince’s lyfe to be saved. Sir Richard
Croftes, a wise and a valiaunt knight, nothing mistrustyng the king’s
former promise, brought forth his prisoner, Prince Edward, beyng a
goodly feminine and a well-featured young gentleman, whome when King
Edward had well advised, he demanded of him howe he durst so
presumptuouslye enter into his realme with banner displayed. The Prince
beyng bold of stomack, and of a good courage, answered, saying, ‘To
recover my father’s kingdome and enheritage, from his father and
grandfather to him, and from him, after him, to me lineally descended.’
At these wordes King Edward sayde nothing, but with his hand thrust him
from him, or as some say stroke him with his gauntlet, whom incontinent
they yᵗstoode aboute, which were George, Duke of Clarence, Richard, Duke
of Gloucester, Thomas, Marques Dorset, and William, Lord Hastyngs,
sodainly stroke and cruelly murthered him. The bitternesse of which
murder some of the doers after in their latter dayes tasted and assayed
by the very rod of justice and punishment of God”--each of them, the
king excepted, having met with a tragical and untimely death. “His bodye
was homelye interred with the other simple corses in the churche of the
Monastarye of Blacke Monkes, in Tewkesbury.”

[Illustration]

This interview between the king and the prince is powerfully drawn by
Shakspeare,--in scene fifth of the third Part of “King Henry the
Sixth”--who takes the old chronicles of his day as his authority for the
death of <g>Prince Edward</g>, who received the daggers of the King,
Gloucester, and Clarence, in quick succession:--

    _K. Edw._ Take that, the likeness of this railer here. (_Stabs him._)

    _Glo._ Sprawl’st thou? take that to end thy agony.

    _Clar._ And there’s for twitting me with perjury. (_Each stabs him in turn._)

It is supposed that, when the queen was found and introduced into the
presence of the conqueror, she was not aware of the extent of her
misery. She believed that her son at least had escaped the carnage of
the field, and believing this, all her agony was assuaged. But when the
dreadful truth flashed upon her, and she beheld in the looks of those
around her a ferocious exultation which could not be mistaken,--

       “She look’d upon their weapons red,
        She guess’d what blood their points had shed--
        ‘Where is my child? Mine only one!
        Oh God--oh God! Is this my son?
        Monsters! a mother’s curse lie strong
        And heavy on ye! May the tongue--
        The ceaseless tongue--which well I ween
        Lives in the murderer’s murky breast--
        With goading whispers, fell and keen,
        Make havoc of your rest!
        For ever in your midnight dream,
        May the wan smile, which yet delays
        On yon cold lips, appal your gaze--
        And may a madden’d mother’s scream
        Ring in your ears till ye awake,
    And every limb with horror’s palsy shake!’--
        An impulse like the grasp of death
        Now hardly held her gasping breath.
        Dire was the conflict. Mute she stood,
          Striving--and fain to utter more,
          Her writhing features struggled sore
        With black convulsion, till the blood
        Burst from her lips, a ghastly flood.
        Then nature gave the combat o’er,
    And the heart-stricken queen fell senseless on the floor!”

Queen Margaret, adds the chronicle, “lyke a prisoner, was brought to
London, where shee remayned till King Reyner, her father, raunsomed her
with money, which summe, as the French writers affirme, he borrowed of
King Lewis XI.; and because he was not of power nor abilitye to repaye
so great a dutye, he sold to the French Kinge and hys heyres the
kingdomes of Naples and both the Sicilies, with the countie of Prouynce,
which is the very tytle that King Charles the Seaventh made when he
conquered the realme of Naples. After that raunsome payde, shee was
conveyed into Fraunce with small honor, which with so great triumph and
honorable enterteynment was with pompe above all pride receyved into
this realme xxvii. yeres before. And where in the begynning of her tyme
she lyved lyke a queene; in the middle shee ruled like an empresse;
towards the ende she was vexed with trouble, never quyet nor in peace.
And in her very extreme age she passed her dayes in Fraunce, more like
death than lyfe, languishing and mourning in continuall sorow, not so
much for herselfe and her husbande, whose ages were almost consumed and
worne, but for the losse of Prince Edwarde, her sonne, whome shee and
her husbande thought to have bothe overlyver of their progeny, and also
of their kingdome, to whome in thys lyfe nothing could be more
displeasant or grievous.”

Of the ancient lords of the manor of Tewkesbury we have given a brief
account in tracing the descent of that honor; but in a future portion of
the work, the “doings and sufferings” of the De Clares and the Le
Despensers, with various biographical anecdotes, will be introduced. In
the meantime, we take leave of this venerable Abbey--every feature of
which is eloquent of the past--with a legend which, as connected with
its founder, Robert Fitz-Hamon, has often been told and listened to in
these very <g>Cloisters</g>, and with that implicit belief which nothing but
the revival of miracles and monachism can restore! These apartments are
now laid open to the blast; and over the grave of the beadsman “the
stones of the sanctuary” are piled in mouldering heaps. Through the
fretted shrines and casements, the March winds are now whistling a cold
and shrill matin. The labourer has paused from his toil to discuss the
merits of the New Parliament, the Gloucester Railway, and the Corn Laws!
Shade of Fitz-Hamon, beholdest thou this!

[Illustration]

<g>Legend.</g>--“On the day preceding his death in the New Forest, King Rufus
had a dream, and behold he felt as if grievously wounded by a javelin,
and that forthwith there gushed a stream of blood which reached even to
the sky, cast its shadows over the sun, and diminished the very light of
day. Starting from his sleep, the king invoked the name of the Blessed
Virgin, and calling for lights, ordered his chamberlains to stay by him,
and so passed the remainder of the night wide awake, being sorely
troubled with the vision.

“But in the morning very early, a monk from beyond seas, who was then in
attendance upon the king for certain affairs of the church, beckoning to
<g>Robert Fitz-Hamon</g>, a man of great weight and influence about the king,
said unto him that his rest had been troubled with a frightful dream,
which he thus related:--‘As I lay on my pallet in sound sleep, methought
I saw the king enter a certain church with a proud step and haughty
demeanour, as is his wont, and shewing his contempt for those who were
there gathered around him. Anon, seizing the crucifix with his teeth,
he gnawed off its arms (brachia illius corrosit), and left it hardly a
limb to stand upon. Now, when the crucifix had quietly borne with this
horrible treatment for some time, at length, provoked beyond sufferance,
and drawing back its right foot into a kicking attitude, it spurned the
king’s person with such terrific strength that he fell prostrate on the
pavement; and there, issuing from his mouth as he lay insensible, I
beheld a flame widely diffused around me, and a cloud of smoke, like
chaos, rising towards the sky.”

When the monk had thus related the terrific vision, Fitz-Hamon rehearsed
it to the king, who, bursting into a loud incredulous fit of laughter,
exclaimed “A monk, a monk! who for his own lucre hath dreamt a monkish
dream. Give the friar a hundred shillings, that he may see that he has
dreamt to some purpose.” But these signs and wonders were not yet over.
The king himself had another dream within a few hours of his death.
There appeared unto him a Child of surpassing beauty standing at a
certain altar, whereupon the king, unable to overcome a strong
propensity which he felt to taste the infant’s flesh, went up to it, and
took a mouthful of the flesh, which was so remarkably sweet that he
would have greedily devoured the whole body. But the Child putting on a
stern and forbidding aspect, said to him in a threatening tone,
“Forbear! thou hast already had too much!” Hereupon the king suddenly
wakening, consulted a certain bishop as to the interpretation of this
strange vision. The bishop suspecting that some fearful retribution was
at hand, said to him, “Forbear, O king, to persecute the Church as
hitherto; for in this dream behold the warning voice and paternal
admonition of God, and go not forth to hunt this day as thou hast
purposed.”

But the king, despising this ghostly counsel, went forth into the forest
to commence his sport; when lo, as a mighty stag passed before him, he
called out to the attendant, Walter Tyrrell, who stood near, “Draw,
devil, draw!” Tyrrell instantly drew and let fly his arrow, but instead
of hitting the stag, it glanced against a tree and struck the king in
the heart. Thus was there a fearful confirmation of all the omens which
had haunted the king’s pavilion the preceding night.

But without the following particulars, gravely related by the same
author--Matthew of Saint Albans--the picture would be incomplete.

All the king’s followers having fled in alarm at this terrible accident,
the dead body was removed from the spot where it lay by a char-burner,
but so unaccountably heavy was the load, that the car broke down under
it, and it was again left unattended in the depths of the forest. Here,
however, a certain count having lost his companions in the chase, beheld
to his utter amazement a huge, black, bristly stag carrying off the
king’s body; whereupon he halted and adjured the stag by the Holy
Trinity to declare what this fearful sight meant. “I am carrying your
king,” said the stag, “even the tyrant William Rufus, the enemy of the
Church, to the bar of judgment!”

For the sake of those who are curious in such matters we add the
original Latin,[190] by which it appears the “stag was no other than the
‘foul Fiend!’”

     AUTHORITIES:--Malmesbury.--Dugdale, Monasticon.--Dyde, History and
     Antiquities of Tewkesbury.--Atkyns.--Mitred Abbeys.--Willis’s
     Cathedrals.--Saxon History.--Robert of Gloster.--History of the
     Clares.--Notes on Magna Charta.--Leland.--Dugdale,
     Baronage.--Tyrrel.--Wars of York and Lancaster.--MS. Hist. of the
     Abbey.--Dallaway.--Analogies of Cathedral Churches.--History of
     Gloucester.--Margaret of Anjou.--Drayton.--Domesday Survey.--Matth.
     Par.--Ord. Vital.--Fabyan.--Speed.--Sepulch. Antiquit.--Hist. Civil
     War.--Hist. Church,.--&c. &c. &c.

[Illustration: KENILWORTH CASTLE.]




[Illustration]




KENILWORTH CASTLE.

    “Gaze on yon Arch, and mark the while,
     Of all that feudal glory shared,
     How war has reft what time had spared.
     Oh, for a bard of olden time
     To yield thee back thy life in rhyme--
     To sing afresh thy glorious prime,
     When wassail rout convulsed thy tower,
     When banquet shook thy festive halls.
     But all is still! thy crumbling walls
     No more shall echo back the tread
     Of prancing steeds: no more shall War
     Roll at thy feet his iron car;
     Nor trumpets’ clang, nor clashing swords,
     Nor prisoner’s sigh, nor love’s last words,
     Whisper amid thy voiceless dead.”--LEATHAM.


<g>One of</g> the most graphic pictures of “Old Kenilworth” which we have met
with, occurs in the following passage:--“Where wilde brookes meeting
together make a broad poole among the parkes, and so soone as they are
kept in with bankes, runne in a chanell, is seated Kenelworth--in times
past commonly called Kenelworde, but corruptly Killingworth--and of it
taketh name a most ample, beautifull, and strong <g>Castle</g>, encompassed all
about with parkes, which neither Kenulph, nor Kenelm, ne yet Kineglise
built (as some doe dreame) but Geffrey Clinton, chamberlaine unto Kinge
Henrie the First and his sonne with him, as may be shewed by good
evidences; when he had founded there before a church for chanons
regular. But Henrie, his nephew in the second degree, having no issue,
sold it unto King Henrie the Third, who gave it in franke marriage to
Simon Montfort, Earl of Leicester, together with his sister Aleonor. And
soone after, when enmity was kindled between the Kinge and Earl Simon,
and hee slaine in the bloody wars which he had raised vpon faire
pretexts against his Soveraigne, it endured six months’ siege, and in
the end was surrendered vp to the Kinge aforesaid, who annexed this
castle as an inheritance to Edmund his sonne, Earl of Lancaster; at
which time there went out and was proclaimed from hence an edict, which
our lawyers use to call ‘Dictum de Kenilworth,’ whereby it was enacted
that ‘whosoever had tooke arms against the King, should pay every one of
them five yeeres rent of their lands.’ A severe yet a good and wholesome
course, without effusion of blood, against rebellious subiects, who,
compassing the destruction of the state, put all their hopes upon
nothing else but dissentions. But this <g>Castle</g>, through the bountifull
munificence of Queene Elizabeth, was given and granted to <g>Robert
Dudleie</g>, Earle of Leicester, who to repaire

[Illustration]

and adourn it spared for no cost; insomuch, as if a man consider either
the gallant building or the large parkes, it would seem as it were to be
ranged in a third place amongst the Castles in England.”

Such is the concise description and historical epitome of this
celebrated Castle, as recorded by the author of the “Britannia.” But
many changes have occurred since then; its walls have been dismantled,
its apartments thrown open to the weather, siege and storm have
alternately expended their fury on its iron strength, and mutilated
what they could not overthrow; for it is too firmly seated, too massive
in its structure and materials, to feel the wasting hand of time, and
happily too well cemented to be turned into a profitable quarry. The
northern Ariosto, however, has done more to preserve it from further
dilapidation than its own lords--he has invested its courts and halls
with a charm which nothing can dissolve; and we have good reason to
believe that the scenes which Scott has now rendered classic, the taste
and patriotism of Clarendon will transmit unimpaired to posterity.

    “Dim peering through the vale of night,
     Yon murky forms bring back a crowd
     Of images that seek the light,
     That leap from out the misty shroud
     Of ages--picturing as they glide
     Athwart the tablet of my thought,
     What did of good or ill betide
     These walls, and all the deeds here wrought.”--LEATHAM.

Previous to the Conquest, observes the best authority on this subject,
Kenilworth was a member of the neighbouring parish of Stoneleigh, being
an ancient demesne of the Crown, and had within the precincts thereof a
Castle, situate upon the banks of Avon, in the woods opposite to
Stoneleigh Abbey, which castle stood upon a place called Holm Hill, but
was demolished in those turbulent “times of warre betweene King Edward
and Canutus the Dane.” At the time of the Norman Survey, Kenilworth was
divided into two parts, one of which was styled Optone, and was held of
the king by Albertus Clericus in “pure almes.” The other portion was
possessed by Richard the Forester. In the reign of Henry the First, the
manor was bestowed by the king upon Geoffrey de Clinton, who founded
here a potent castle and a monastery. But although a fortified residence
and a religious foundation were usually, in the early ages, the
harbingers of wealth and consequence to the neighbouring town,
Kenilworth does not appear to have greatly profited by its position,
either in commerce or population. Henry the Third bestowed upon it the
privileges of a weekly market on the Tuesday, and an annual fair to last
three days; but this, it would appear, had fallen into disuse, for
Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, obtained from Queen Elizabeth the
grant of a weekly market to be held on Wednesday, and a yearly fair on
Midsummerday. Prosperity, however, never seems to have taken a hearty
liking to the spot, and, notwithstanding the advantages of royal
patronage and local position, became at length estranged from it, and
fixed her seat in another though less favoured part of the county. The
Castle, however, has in a great measure compensated for the lack of
commerce; and by the great number of visitors who now resort to it at
all seasons, from all parts of the kingdom, the inhabitants are partly
indemnified for other privations. The romance of Kenilworth, it is
probable, has brought, within the last fifteen years, more pilgrims to
this town and neighbourhood--pilgrims of the highest rank--than ever
resorted to its ancient shrine of the Virgin; more knights and dames
than ever figured in its tilts and tournaments.

Of this lordly palace, where princes feasted and heroes fought--now in
the bloody earnest of storm and siege, and now in the games of chivalry,
and where beauty dealt the prize which valour won--“all,” says Sir
Walter Scott, “all is desolate. The bed of the lake is but a rushy
swamp, and the massive ruins of the Castle only show what their
splendour _once_ was; and impress on the musing visitor the transitory
value of human possessions, and the happiness of those who enjoy a
humble lot in virtuous contentment.” But from the picture of Kenilworth
as it is, we return to those passages of ancient history which point out
to us what it _was_.

The founder of the Castle, Geoffroi de Clinton, was treasurer and
chamberlain to King Henry the First, but “to whom related” or from whom
descended is a question on which genealogists have come to no
satisfactory conclusion. By one he is said to have been a grandson of
William de Tankerville, who held a distinguished office under the Duke
of Normandy; by another he is mentioned as a soldier of fortune, who had
no patrimony but his sword, with which he ultimately cut his way to the
highest official dignities. But whatever his descent may have been, he
was, beyond doubt, a person in whom the grand recommendations of valour
and wisdom were eminently united. In addition to the offices of trust
above-mentioned, he was appointed by the king to the chief-justiceship
of England; and thus invested with all that honourable distinction to
which a subject could aspire, he readily obtained those territorial
possessions which gave him a high standing among the barons of his day,
and have transmitted his name to the present time in a spot of ground
near the Castle, with the distinctive appellation of ‘Clinton’s Green.’
The original keep, or donjon, appears to have been the work of this
enterprising Norman, and is still the most imposing feature in the
Castle. It is distinguished from the Norman donjon towers of that period
by having had no prisons underground--such at least is the conclusion;
for in several experiments which have been expressly made for
ascertaining the truth of this exception, the ground on which it stands
has been found solid, and with no appearance of either arches or
excavations, although the examination has been carried to a depth of
fifteen feet and upwards. It is probable, however, that the dungeons
were either in the angular towers above, or in a part near the
foundation, which remains to be discovered; for it is not at all
probable that an appendage so indispensable to a feudal residence would
have been neglected in this solitary instance. This massive and
gigantic fabric, which was constructed to resist the slow waste of
centuries, with scarcely any diminution of strength or bulk, has
suffered greatly by the hand of violence. The north side appears to have
been demolished for the sake of its materials, or to render it incapable
of being again employed as a fortress. The external features have
apparently undergone various alterations: the windows, which originally
consisted of the roundheaded Norman arch, have been transformed in this
particular to the fashion of a later day--a square head, to correspond
with the other buildings erected by Leicester, so that in style and
appearance the Castle might present one harmonious whole. The small
towers which crowned the four angles in the battlements were originally
much higher; but, in subserviency to the same plan, their height was
reduced to Leicester’s new standard, and thus the more ancient character
of the building was impaired rather than improved. The staircases in the
south-west and north-east angles, the ancient well, some remains of
colour in fresco, in imitation of niches, with trefoil heads, are among
the few objects which arrest the eye and invite inspection.

[Illustration]

But of De Clinton, with whose name this part of the Castle is so
particularly associated, little is known beyond the fact already
mentioned, of his having founded this Castle, and a <g>Monastery</g> of
canons-regular of the Saint Augustin order, which he amply endowed with
lands, tithes, and other revenues.--“And more,” says Dugdale, “I cannot
say of him than that, in the thirtieth of Henrie the First, the king,
keeping his Christmas at Wodstoke, a false accusation of treason was
there brought against him, and that he left issue Geffrey his son and
heir, who held that office of chamberlain to the king, as his father had
done. He married Agnes, daughter of Roger, Earl of Warwick, and with her
obtained various grants and concessions of importance. He gave, at the
burial of his father, the lordship of Neuton to the monks of Kenilworth,
with eleven other possessions of great value and consideration. Henry de
Clinton his son, and heir of Kenilworth, added considerably to these
bequests; and in consideration of his piety and munificence to the
church, the monks allowed him every day during his life two
manchets--such as two of those canons had--with four gallons of their
best beer, according to wine measure; all of which he was to have,
whether he were at Kenilworth or not, from the time he should assume the
habit of religion, except on such days as he should have entertainment
in that monastery.” These worthy brethren, like the fraternity of
Melrose, appear to have been no eschewers of “faire cookerye and good
drinke.”

    “The jolly monks they made good kail
      On Fridays when they fasted,
     Nor wanted they good beef and ale
      As long as their neighbours’ lasted.”

“But,” says Dugdale (Baron. art. Clinton), “this Henry, ‘who had sold
his heritage for a sop,’ quitted to King John all his right in
Kenilworth Castle, and in the woods and pools, with whatsoever else
appertained thereto; excepting what he did possess at the death of Henry
the Second. By his wife, Amicia de Bidun, he left issue Henry, his son
and heir, who having been in arms with the rebellious barons, returned
to obedience 2ᵈᵒ Henry the Third, assuring the king of his future
fidelity; whereupon he had livery of those lands in Kenilworth which
descended to him by the death of his father; but dying without issue,
his estates passed into the families of his three sisters, Amicabile,
Isabel, and Agnes, who severally married Lucas de Columbers, Ralph
Fitz-John, and Warine de Bragenham.

From this epoch in the history of Kenilworth, to the time when it was
given by King Henry to Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, as a
marriage portion with his daughter, the Castle continued to be crown
property. This alliance took place in 1253, and by various documents
extant it appears that considerable sums were expended at intervals in
repairs and embellishments of the royal fortress. Simon de Montfort,
however, by joining the barons, as already mentioned in the history of
Rochester Castle, made shipwreck of his fortune. At the battle of
Evesham--a day on which, as the Monk of Gloucester observes, “the very
heaven appeared in its most appalling hues”--Montfort, with his son
Henry and many individuals of high rank, died on the field. “At the
houre of his death,” says another chronicle, “it thundered and
lightened, and so great a darkness spread the sky that men were sore
amazed.” “A cruell and bloodye battayle it was,” says the annalist;
“after which, in despite of the erle, some malicious persons cut off his
head, mutilating him otherwise with a barbaritie too disgusting to
mention. His feet also, and handes, were cut off from the body and sent
to sundrie places, and the truncke of hys bodye was buryed within the
church of Euisham.” But all this met afterwards with a singular
retribution of vengeance at Viterbo, in Italy, as recorded by Rymer,
Muratori, and others.

The king had hitherto been a prisoner in the camp of the barons,
captured as already noticed at the battle of Lewis. But having now
recovered his liberty, and made various state arrangements, he assembled
his victorious troops in the month of June following; and with his son,
Prince Edward, at their head, sat down before the walls of Kenilworth
Castle, which still held out under the surviving son of De Montfort. Sir
Henry Hastings, to whom Montfort, during his absence in France--where he
was endeavouring to awaken a strong interest on behalf of the
barons--had intrusted the command, so ably conducted the defence, that
six months had elapsed before any impression could be made upon the
garrison by the king’s forces.

[Illustration]

Famine, however, accomplished what mere force could not effect. On the
20th of December, 1265, after the Dictum[191] had been issued, a special
stipulation was entered into, that “Sir Henry Hastynges and all those
that were with him should have life and limme, horse and harnesse, with
all things within the castelle to them belongyng, and a certeine of
leysure to cary away the same.” The Castle was then delivered up to the
king. The principal cause which had rendered this monarch so unpopular
among his natural subjects, the old and high-spirited nobility, has been
already noticed in the account of Rochester. His patronage of
foreigners, and predilection for exotic customs, had prejudiced the
native chivalry against him; and hence the series of battles and sieges,
which only ended with the death of <g>Simon de Montfort</g>,[192] and the
surrender of Kenilworth Castle. At this siege stone balls of great size
were employed by the besieged; some of them, which have been since dug
up, measure sixteen inches in diameter, and ‘weigh nearly two hundred
pounds.’ “But I doe not thinke,” says an old commentator, “that the
gunnes of those dayes were such gunnes as we nowe use, but rather some
pot gunne, or some such other invention.” The warlike engines then in
use, however--the ‘catapultæ’ or ‘mangonels’--were sufficiently powerful
to throw stones much heavier than those found at Kenilworth, as in a
subsequent portion of this work we shall have occasion to show. It was
whilst prosecuting this siege that the king gave his niece in marriage
to the Duke of Brunswick; when the queen and her ladies, who had
travelled from Windsor for that purpose, graced the ceremony with their
presence.

Having thus recovered possession of the fortress, King Henry bestowed it
upon his younger son Edmund, “with free chase and free warren, and right
to hold in Kenilworth the weekly market and annual fair,” already
mentioned; and, two years afterwards, created him Earl of Lancaster.

[Sidenote: 1279.{]

In this year the Castle of Kenilworth became the scene of one of those
brilliant displays which commenced and vanished with the days of
chivalry, but which still sparkle in the pages of the old chronicles,
and enliven the tedium of more grave details. Edward I., on coming to
the throne, greatly encouraged those martial exercises and amusements in
which he himself so much delighted and excelled. It was under his
auspices that, in imitation of the British Arthur, this fête of baronial
splendour was got up; and at the head of it was Roger Mortimer, Earl of
March, who was imbued with the true spirit of his age, and delighted in
those military spectacles which brought beauty and chivalry
together.[193] On this occasion, the round-table was introduced at
Kenilworth, by means of which the guests were placed, for the time at
least, on a footing of equality.[194] The company consisted of five
score knights, and an equal number of ladies. Among the former were many
French and other foreign knights of distinction, who, in honour of their
ladye-loves, had come to break a lance with England’s chivalry. The
halls of the Castle were thrown open to the daily banquet; the
tilt-yard was thronged with rival knights, where the fairest dame,
presiding at the ring, rewarded the successful competitors for every
successive display of martial strength and agility. In the evening,
music and dancing filled up the interval till supper; after which the
ladies retired to their ‘bower,’ and the wassail bowl circling for a
time at the barons’ board, closed the brilliant exhibitions of the day.
Of the dress of these court dames it is mentioned, as a proof of extreme
luxury in that age, that they all appeared in “rich silken mantles.” Of
this great military festival, Hardyng has drawn the following picture,
which gives us a still more magnificent idea of Earl Roger’s splendour.
The assembly, according to his account, was nearly tenfold that
mentioned by other chroniclers:--

    “And in the yere a thousand was full then,
     Two hundred, also sixty and nineteen,
     When _Sir Roger Mortimer_ so began
     At Kilengworth, the <g>Round-table</g> as was sene,
     Of a _thousand knyghts_ for discipline,
     Of young menne, after he could devyse
     Of <g>turnementes</g> and justes to exercise.
     A _thousand ladyes_, excellyng in beautye,
     He had also there in tentes high above
     The <g>justes</g>, that thei might well and clerely see
     Who justed beste there for their ladye-love,
     For whose beautie it should the knightes move
     In armes so eche other to revie [rival]
     To get a fame in play of chivalrye.”--HARDYNG CHRON.

In illustration of this subject, it may be proper to introduce a passage
from Strutt’s View of Manners and Customs, in which he justly remarks,
“That all these warlike games--such as those of the round-table, and
tilts, and tournaments--are by historians too often confounded together.
They were, nevertheless, _different_ games, as appears from the
authority of Matthew Paris, who writes thus--Non in hastiludio illo quod
vulgariter torneamentum dicitur, sed potius in illo ludo militari, qui
_mensa rotunda_ dicitur--‘Not in the tilts which we commonly call
tournaments, but rather in that military game called the _round-table_.’
The first was the tilting, or running at each other with lances; the
second, probably, was the same with that ancient sport called
_barriers_, from the old French _barres_ or _jeu de barres_, a martial
game of men armed, and fighting together with short swords within
certain limits or _lists_, whereby they were severed from the
spectators; and this fighting without lances distinguished the barriers,
or _round-table knights_, from the other.” (Vide also Warner’s
Illustrations, critical and historical, vol. i. p. 255.) This splendid
exhibition at <g>Kenilworth</g> was succeeded by the revival of the round-table
at Windsor; and “so great was the concourse that flocked from all the
countries of Europe--and particularly from France--to reap the laurels
of chivalry in the court of Edward, that Philip de Valois, the French
monarch, either stimulated by envy, or fearful that his own palace would
be deserted by the flower of his nobility, instituted a _round-table_ in
his kingdom also. “The tournaments of this magnificent reign,” observes
Warton, “were constantly crowded with ladies of the first distinction,
who sometimes attended them on horseback, armed with daggers, and
dressed in a succinct soldier-like habit or uniform, made expressly for
the purpose.” “But this practice,” says Warren, on the testimony of
Knyghton, “was at length deemed scandalous,” or at least very
unfeminine.

<g>The Hall</g>, in which were held so many splendid reunions and banquets, is
still magnificent in decay. Its proportions are ninety feet in length,
forty-five

[Illustration]

in breadth, and the same in height--proportions which were generally
observed by the ancient builders in all edifices where harmony of parts
and grandeur of effect were to be combined. In the windows, the richness
of the mouldings and tracery still remains as a proof of what they must
have been when, on the decoration of this Castle, all that art could
accomplish or wealth command was lavishly bestowed. The undercroft, or
hall, as described in the survey, is “carried upon pillars and
architecture of freestone, carved and wrought as the like are not within
this kingdom.” It is of the same dimensions as the Baron’s Hall above,
and was intended for the domestics and those numerous guests and
retainers who were not entitled to a place at the upper table.” On each
side of the upper hall is a fire-place; near to the inner court is “an
oriel, in plan comprehending five sides of an octagon, and a fire-place.
On the side opposite is a recess with a single window and a small
closet, described by the guide as ‘Queen Elizabeth’s dressing-room.’”

From the period just mentioned till that of Edward the Second,
Kenilworth appears to have enjoyed uninterrupted tranquillity, if not
sunshine. It was the frequent resort of that “brave but unlettered
nobility,” among whom it was the monarch’s ambition to keep alive the
martial ardour which his example had awakened. On the death of the first
Edward, however, and the accession of his son, a crisis was approaching.
The reign of the latter, his weak and impolitic government, his
disregard of public opinion, his total abandonment of the kingly duties
in favour of pleasure; his patronage of foreign adventurers, and his
protection of servile flatterers, on whom he lavished wealth, and power,
and honours, alienated the nobility, and hastened his own downfall and
that of his favourites. But without minutely entering into this subject,
we shall merely touch upon such facts, or incidents, as connect the
Castle of Kenilworth with the history of that period.

On the attainder of Thomas Earl of Lancaster, in the fifteenth year of
this reign, Kenilworth again reverted to the crown, and was held by the
king until the eve of his ‘abdication,’ when the orders issued to Odo de
Stoke, his castellan, for its defence, could not be carried into effect.
The king had left the capital, and become a fugitive from his
exasperated vassals. Having lost his favourites--the Gavestons, and now
losing both the Le Despensers by a horrid death--the unhappy monarch,
thinking to secure his safety by flight, went on board a ship at
Bristol, with the view of seeking refuge on the coast of Ireland. But
contrary winds prevailing, he was driven on the coast of Wales; and
being there made prisoner by Leicester, brother of him whom he had
lately caused to be attainted, was conducted to Kenilworth Castle.
“Alas,” says the chronicle, “with corrupt dispositions, even to everting
of all bonds of either religious or civil duty, what will not money,
diligence, and fair words accomplish! For by these means the desolate,
sad, and unfortunate king fell into his cousin of Lancaster’s hands, and
with him the yonger Lord Spenser, Earle of Glocester, Robert Baldock,
Lord Chancellour, and Simon de Reding, there being no regard had to the
detention of any other. The king was conveyed by the earle from the
place of his surprise to Monmouth and Ledbury, and so on to the Castle
of Kenelworth, belonging to the Earle of Leicester, who was appointed to
attend him; that is, to keepe him safe. The other three, Spenser,
Baldock, and Reding, were strongly guarded to Hereford, there to be
disposed of at the pleasure of their most capitall enemies;” as
hereafter will appear. “The mournefull king being at Kenelworth Castle,
there repaired thither the Bishops of Winchester, Hereford, and
Lincolne, two earles, two abbots, foure barons, two justices, three
knights for every county; and for London, and other principall places,
chiefly for the Cinque ports, a certaine chosen number, selected by the
Parliament, which then the queene and her sonne held at London. The
Bishops of Winchester and Lincolne, as it was agreed upon, came thither
before any of the rest, as well to give the king to vnderstand what
kinde of embassage was approaching, as to prepare him by the best
arguments they could, to satisfie the desire and expectation of their
new moulded common-weale, which could onely be by resignation of his
crown, that his sonne might reign in his stead.” When they were admitted
to his presence--the Earl of Leicester his keeper, being at hand--they
“together so wrought upon him, partly by shewing the necessity, partly
by other reasons, drawn out of common places, thoroughly studied for
that purpose, that--although not without many sobs and teares--he
finally did not dissent, if his answere, which some doubt, were truly
reported to Parliament.”

[Illustration]

The whole company sent by the Order of State--if “that might be called a
body which then had no head there--from London, being placed by the
Bishop of Hereford according to their degrees in <g>the Presence Chamber</g> of
Kenilworth Castle, the king gowned in blacke came forth at last out of
an inwarde roome--the Privy Chamber[195]--and presented himself to his
vassals, where--as being privy to their errand--sorrow stroke such a
chillnesse into him that he fell to the earth, lying stretched forth in
a deadly swoon.” The Earl of Leicester and the Bishop of Worcester
beholding this ran to him, and with much labour recovered the half-dead
king, setting him on his feet. But “rueful and heavy” as this sight
was, we read not yet of any acts or effects of compassion expressed
toward him--so settled was their hatred and aversion.

.... Miser atque infelix est etiam Rex,
    Nec quenquam, mihi crede, facit diadema beatum.

The King being now come to himself--but to the sense of his misery--the
Bishop of Hereford declared to him the cause of their present embassy;
and running over the former points, concluded by saying, “That the king
must resigne his diadem to his eldest sonne; or, after the refusall,
suffer them to elect such a personne as themselves should judge to be
most fit and able to defend the kingdome.” The delirious king having
heard this speech, “brake forth into sighes and teares.” Yet,
nevertheless, said that “it was greatly to his good pleasure and liking
that--seeing it could none other be on his behalfe--his eldest son was
so gracious in their sight; and therefore he gave them thanks for
choosing him to be their kinge.” This being said, there was “forthwith a
proceeding to the short ceremony of his resignation, which principally
consisted in the surrender of his diadem and ensigns of majestic to the
use of his sonne, the new kinge.... Edward being thus de-kinged, the
embassie rode joyfully backe to London to the Parliament with the
afore-named ensigns and dispatch of their employment.”--(So far Speed,
Polyd. Virg., Thomas de la More, Walsingham.)

“Now, after he was deposed of his kinglie honor and title,” says
Holinshed, “the said King Edward remained for a time at Killingworth
Castle, in custodie of the Earle of Leicester. But within a while the
Queen[196] was informed by the Bishop of Hereford--whose hatred towards
him had no end--that the Earle of Leicester favoured her husbande too
much, and more than stoode with the suretie of her sonne’s estate;
whereupon he, the King, was appointed to the keeping of two other lords,
Thomas Berkeley and John Maltravers, who receiving him of the Earle of
Leicester on the third of April, conveyed him from Kenilworth to
Berkeley Castle, there to remain a close prisoner.” With the episode of
this tragical history every reader is acquainted. In the words of the
prophetic bard of Gray, he seems to hear

    The shrieks of death through Berkeley’s roofs that ring,
      Shrieks of an agonizing king!

But taking leave of this melancholy incident in the history of
Kenilworth Castle, we pass on in company with the circumstantial
chroniclers of that day. On the accession of Edward the Third, Henry,
brother of the attainted lord, and who had captured the fugitive king in
Wales, was restored to all his titles, honours, and estates, when
Kenilworth became once more the seat of baronial splendour. To this
nobleman succeeded Henry his son, whom the sovereign, as a farther mark
of his approbation, created Earl of Derby and of Lincoln, and lastly
Duke of Lancaster. But here the line was again

[Illustration]

cut short. Dying without male issue in the thirty-fifth year of that
reign, his two daughters became heirs to his vast demesne. Maude, the
elder of these, married William Duke of Bavaria; and Blanche, the
younger, <g>John of Gaunt</g>, fourth son of Edward the Third, who shortly
after, reviving the late title, created him Duke of Lancaster, “by
girding him with a sword, and putting a cap of fur on his head, with a
circlet of gold and pearles.” To him, in right of his wife, was
assigned, in the partition of lands which followed, the Castle of
Kenilworth as part of her dower; but to which, after the death of the
said Maude, Duchess of Bavaria, the manor of Leicester and a great many
others, as enumerated by Dugd. vol. ii. p. 114, were added.

<g>Lancaster Buildings</g>, so called from this celebrated personage, were
among the important additions which he made to the Castle during the
interval which elapsed between his accession to the demesne, and his
death in 1399. The repairs, additions, and embellishments which he
contributed to this ancient fortress, consisted of the range of
buildings here named--forming the south side of the interior quadrangle;
and the tower, with three stories of arches adjoining the hall on the
north side. He flanked the outer walls with turrets, and accomplished
many other works calculated to improve and strengthen the means of
defence. Visitors will do well to climb over these arches, which the
ruined state of the building and the rubbish that has fallen down render
no difficult task, and from the top “they will enjoy a magnificent view
of the country, with the house and church at Honiley in the background.
One cannot stand here a moment without being struck with the idea of
what a glorious prospect it must have been, with the valleys on either
hand filled with the transparent waters of the lake, surrounded with a
beautiful variety of pleasure-ground laid out in lawns and woods.”

    Du marbre, de l’airain, qu’un vain luxe prodigue,
    Des ornaments de l’art, l’œil bientôt se fatigue;
    Mais les _bois_, mais les _eaux_, mais les _ombrages frais_,
    Tout ce luxe innocent ne fatigue jamais.

In the following reign, when so much noble blood flowed on the scaffold,
Lancaster was often exposed to the cold-hearted suspicions of his
nephew, Richard the Second. In a former part of this work, where we have
detailed at some length the circumstances attending the trial and
execution of Richard Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, the Duke of Lancaster
appeared at his trial; and it was he, <g>John of Gaunt</g>, who was
conspicuously active in bringing that unhappy nobleman to the block. He
survived him, however, only two years; and after many splendid services
to the state, and having borne the titles of “Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of
Brittany, King of Castille,” and been thrice married,[197] he died at
his Castle of Leicester, or, according to others, at Ely House, in
Holborn. Instances of his knightly prowess and prudent sayings are often
detailed by the old chroniclers.

When leading the van in the battle against Henry, the bastard brother of
Don Pedro in Spain, near the city of Pampeluna, pointing to the enemy in
front--“There,” said he to Sir William Beauchamp, “there are your
enemies; this day you shall seeme a good knight or die in the quarrel.”
When John Wycliffe was called before the Archbishop of Canterbury, the
Bishop of London, and other prelates and peers, of whom this Duke of
Lancaster was one; he (in favour of Wycliffe) spoke some reproachful
words against the bishop, which gave such discontent to the citizens
that they rose in an uproar and resolved to have murdered him, and to
have set fire to his house, called the Savoy--then the fairest structure
in England--had ‘not the bishop qualified them.’ On the accession of his
nephew, King Richard, observing that he was under improper influence,
and fearing that public blame might attach to him as the principal
adviser, he obtained leave to retire to his Castle of Hereford, which he
intended to have made his chief residence, and had taken measures for
repairing and fortifying it. But in this he was defeated by the King’s
injustice, who took it from him, at which he was much troubled, and in
consequence took up his residence in his Castle of Kenilworth.--Baron.

The Hall, already mentioned, was finished only two years before the
death of John of Gaunt, who, after being deprived of his other castle by
King Richard, as above stated, employed his active mind in a thorough
restoration of that at Kenilworth; “and for which,” says Dugdale, “he
obtained a warrant from Richard, directed to Robert de Skillington,
master mason, and supervisor of his buildings at Kenilworth, to impress
twenty masons, carpenters, and others.”

[Illustration]

<g>The Strong Tower</g>, or that which in the “Romance of Kenilworth” is called
Mervin’s Tower, is also ascribed to John of Gaunt. Henry de Bolingbroke,
his son, Duke of Hereford, who was destined to play so conspicuous a
rôle in the national history, succeeded to his illustrious father in
1399. On his return from abroad--where he had been some time in
exile--to take possession of his heritage according to the royal patent,
Richard, jealous of his power and growing popularity, applied to the
parliamentary commissioners, and by their authority revoked his letters
patent, and retained possession of the late Duke’s estates. So glaring
an act of injustice could not be overlooked, either by Hereford or his
friends. Connected with most of the principal nobility by blood,
alliance, or private friendship, they were easily brought, by a sense of
common interest, to take part in his resentment; the consequences of
which were, the deposition of King Richard, the elevation of Henry de
Bolingbroke to the throne, and the origin of those unnatural wars
between the houses of York and Lancaster which deluged the country with
blood.

During these fierce and sanguinary contests, the castle and demesnes of
Kenilworth were alternately in the power and custody of the rival
houses; but the lighter amusements of the age, the chivalric
entertainments, jousts and tournaments, which had so frequently
enlivened its courts, had been laid aside for the stern realities of
domestic war. Days of battle and nights of mourning, or fearful
preparation, drove mirth and festivity from the gate; while the
continual tramp of steeds, the clang of arms, and the approach of fresh
conflicts, kept alive that melancholy interest and excitement, which for
a time isolated this magnificent fortress and its garrison within the
pale of its own fosse and ramparts.

    “O England, years are fled since first
     Wide o’er thy plains the war-cloud burst!
     Long years are fled; yet following years
     Still hear thy groans, still mark thy tears!
     Yet where are they whose fatal shout
     To havoc roused the maddening rout?
     Where they who toss’d the fatal brand
     Of discord through their hapless land?
     They’re gone--and following in their place,
     Another and another race.
     But peace, peace, comes not! They repose
     Which kindled first their country’s woes;
     But, ere they slept, they left behind
     A fatal present to mankind.”

<g>The Swan Tower</g> forms the north-west angle of the outer wall, at the
meeting of the lake and canal, or wet ditch. Near this, and of an oblong
shape, divided into parterres cross-fashioned, and with a circular space
in the centre, was the ancient garden of the Castle, which communicated
with the Maison de Plaisance already named, and this again with the
strong tower adjoining. In shape it is octagonal, and is supposed to
have derived its name from the swans which resorted hither to be fed by
the keeper. Another of these towers, which forms the opposite or
north-east angle of the outer wall, is considerably larger than the
preceding, polygonal in shape, and contained several apartments, two of
which have fire-places. It is known in the History of the Castle as
“Lunn’s Tower,” and is seen to advantage in the general view of the
Castle from the north-east. Of nearly the same size within, but not
nearly so high, and in its architectural style and proportions deserving
of particular attention, is the Water Tower. It appears to have been
intended for military defence, and used in connexion with the other
warlike outworks by which, on the land side, the castle wall was
protected. The next prominent object in the same line, where the lake
and ditch again meet on the south-east, is Mortimer’s Tower, already
described. Communicating with this, by means of a long gallery, was the
<g>Flood Gate</g>, which contained a “spacious and noble room,” from which the
ladies might conveniently witness the martial pastimes of joust and
tournament in the capacious tilt-yard adjoining, which extended from
tower to tower. The buildings here enumerated form the chief features in
the outer circuit, and succeed each other at various distances along the
embattled wall on the north and east of the castle.

[Illustration]

<g>The Kitchens</g>, three in number, occupied the whole space between the keep
and the strong tower on the north-west. The buildings are in total
dilapidation; but the important office to which they were applied--the
restaurant of the castle--is clearly indicated by what remains. In this
part of the castle--as if the walls had not yet lost the high
temperature to which they had been raised in the times of baronial
revelry--the ivy luxuriates in great redundancy; the lizard sports on
the hearth, and the owl and bat roost together in the larder. Così
trapassa, al’ trapassar’ d’ un giorno, la gloria della--cucina!

[Sidenote: 1114. {]

Henry the Fifth, according to Stow, kept his “Lent in the Castle of
Kenelworth, and caused an harbor there to be planted in the marish for
his pleasure, among the thorns and bushes, where a foxe had harbored,
which foxe he killed, being a thing thought to prognosticate that he
should expell the craftie deceit of the French king; besides which he
also there builded a most pleasaunt place, and caused it to bee named
‘le Plaisant Marais,’ or the Pleasaunt Marsh.” Here, also, during the
same Lent, “whilst the King lay at Kenelworth, messingers came to him
from the Dolphin of France, named Charles, with a present of Paris
balles with him to play withall; but the Kinge wrote to him that he
would shortlie send to him London balles, with the whiche he woulde
breake down the roofes of houses.” Of this incident Shakspeare has taken
advantage in the following scene in his play of Henry the Fifth:--

    _Ambass._ The prince, our master,
    Says that you savour too much of your youth,
    And bids you be advised, there’s nought in France
    That can be with a nimble gaillard won--
    You cannot revel into dukedoms there;
    He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
    This tun of treasure; and in lieu of this,
    Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
    Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.
       _K. Hen._ What treasure, uncle?

    _Exe._ Tennis-balls, my liege.

    _K. Hen._ We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
    His present and your pains we thank you for.
    When we have matched our rackets to these balls,
    We will in France, by God’s grace, play a set
    Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard.
    And tell the pleasant prince, this mock of his
    Hath turn’d his balls to gun-stones; and his soul
    Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
    That shall fly with them; for many a thousand widows
    Shall this his mock, mock out of their dear husbands;
    Mock mothers from their sons; mock castles down.--ACT i. sc. 2.

On the accession of Henry the Seventh, the Castle was bestowed upon his
son, as Duke of Cornwall, who, to the numerous repairs and
embellishments made by his royal predecessors, contributed many others.
He removed what was called the ‘Plaisance en Marais’--supposed to have
been a small summer-house in the marshy flat beyond the walls--to the
interior of the castle-yard, where its remains are still visible near
the <g>Swan Tower</g>. Inheriting the munificence and taste of his father--“the
onlie phœnix of hys tyme for fyne and curious masonrie,”[198] and whose
“buildings were most goodlie and after the newest caste, all of
pleasure,”[199] the Duke evinced in his repairs of Kenilworth[200] that
love and patronage of the fine arts by which he was afterwards
distinguished as Henry the Eighth. The building formerly known as “Henry
the Eighth’s Lodgings,” was a capacious structure, situated between the
Keep, or Cæsar’s Tower, on the right, and Leicester’s Buildings on the
left; comprising an extensive suite of apartments, and forming the
eastern side of the inner court. Through this building, close to the
tower, was the archway leading into the castle-yard. From Henry the
Eighth it descended to his son, Edward the Sixth; then to Mary, and
lastly to Queen Elizabeth, who bestowed it upon her favourite, Robert
Dudley, fifth son of the Duke of Northumberland, with all the royalties
thereto belonging. This forms the most memorable incident in the history
of Kenilworth.

This Sir Robert Dudley appears on almost every page of the history of
Elizabeth’s reign. He had been included in the attainder of his family,
but was restored in blood by Queen Mary, who appointed him, when a very
young man, Master of the Ordnance at the siege of St. Quintin.
Elizabeth overwhelmed him with dignities; giving him the Garter while a
commoner; creating him Baron of Denbigh and Earl of Leicester; and
investing him with the order of St. Michael, which the King of France,
by way of compliment, had requested her to confer on two of her
subjects. He was likewise Master of the Horse, Steward of the Household,
Chancellor of Oxford, Ranger of the Forests south of Trent, and
Captain-general of the English forces in the Netherlands; and, as though
the great ancient offices of his country were not sufficient for the
gratification of his ambitious temper, a patent was preparing at the
time of his death for one before unheard of--the Queen’s Lieutenant in
the government of England and Ireland. He was distinguished by the
elegance of his manners and the profuseness of his expenses, and
affected a great degree of piety, and a strict purity of conduct. To
these plausible appearances, though unpossessed of either wisdom or
virtue, he owed the maintenance of his power to the last, against a
strong party at court, and even against the Queen herself, who would
gladly have pulled him down when those motives, which doubtless produced
her first favours to him, had lost their force. The most material
circumstances of his political history never appeared to public view;
for he was the darkest character of his time, and delighted in deriving
the success of his schemes from the operation of remote causes, and the
agency of obscure instruments. It is highly probable that the Queen of
Scots, and the Duke of Norfolk, were sacrificed to this crooked sort of
policy; a conjecture which tends to wipe out somewhat, though, alas! but
little, of the bloody stain which those enormities have left on
Elizabeth’s memory.--Illust. of Brit. Hist.--Lodge.

He married, first, Anne, daughter and heiress to Sir John Robsart (for a
particular account of whose murder, and the suspicions that fell on her
husband, see Ashmole’s History of Berks): secondly, Douglas, daughter of
William Lord Howard of Effingham, and widow of John Lord Sheffield, by
whom he had a son, Sir Robert, who is frequently mentioned in the papers
of the succeeding reign. But soon after, having conceived a violent
passion for Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knollys, and widow of
Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex, whose late death had been attended by
strong indications of foul play, he wedded her, and disowned his former
marriage and its unfortunate offspring. Douglas submitted patiently, and
lived for some time in the obscurity which suited her disgraced
character; till Leicester having attempted to take her off by poison,
she married Sir Edward Stafford of Grafton, in hopes of shielding
herself against the Earl’s future malignity, by affording him in her own
conduct a presumptive evidence in favour of his allegations. All the
curious circumstances relating to this double bigamy may be found in
Dugdale’s Warwickshire.--Ibid. Note, vol. i. p. 378.

The repairs, alterations, and additions made to the Castle by this
nobleman were on the most splendid scale, and finished at an expenditure
of sixty thousand pounds: an immense sum at that time.

[Illustration]

The <g>Stables</g>, which formed so important an object in the establishment of
every military baron, were in proportion to the number of his retinue
and retainers. The lower story of the building, described as Leicester’s
Stables, is of solid stone mason-work. The lofts, or upper story,
consist of brick and timber pane-work, each compartment having a
diagonal piece of timber in it, carved in rude imitation of the “Ragged
Staff,” part of the armorial bearings of the family.

His principal works are thus enumerated:--“The first was the great
<g>Gate-house</g> on the north side; for, after having filled up a part of the
moat on that side, he made the principal entrance from the north,
instead of the south, as it had been originally. He erected a large mass
of square rooms at the north-east angle of the upper court, called
<g>Leicester’s Buildings</g>, and built from the ground two handsome towers at
the head of the pool. The one called Flood-gate, or Gallery Tower, stood
at the end of the tilt-yard, and contained a spacious and noble room,
from which the ladies might conveniently see the exercises of tilting
and other sports. The other was called Mortimer’s Tower, either, as
Dugdale thinks, after one that previously stood there, and in which this
lord lodged at the round-table festival already mentioned, or because
Sir John Mortimer was confined there when a prisoner in the reign of
Henry the Sixth. By Leicester, also, the baronial chase, or park, was
greatly enlarged. But although his works are of so recent a date, they
present, nevertheless, the appearance of great antiquity, owing to the
quality of the stone, which, being of a friable nature, is readily acted
upon by the weather.”

<g>Leicester’s Buildings</g>, which comprise the lofty range from north-east to
south-west, present, even in their present state of dilapidation, the
skeleton of a majestic structure, and enable the stranger to form a fair
estimate of the splendid accommodation provided for the queen and her
court. To correct a popular error, it may be observed that “the great
staircase flanked the centre apartment, and that the projecting erection
at the south-west angle, usually called the staircase, was a suite of
closets or dressing-rooms.” The date of 1571 is cut in stone below the
centre window of the east front. To give a general idea of the extent
and splendour of this Castle at the time

[Illustration]

of the queen’s arrival, when it was in the meridian of its strength and
beauty, we select the following particulars from the pen of the ‘Great
Magician:’--“The outer wall enclosed a space of seven acres, a part of
which was occupied by extensive stables, and by a pleasure garden with
its trim arbours and parterres, and the rest forming the large
base-court, or outer yard, of this noble castle. The lordly structure
itself, which rose near the centre of this spacious enclosure, was
composed of a huge pile of magnificent castellated buildings, apparently
of different ages, surrounding an inner court; and bearing in the names
attached to each portion of the magnificent mass, and in the armorial
bearings which were there blazoned, the emblems of mighty chiefs who had
long passed away, and whose history--could ambition have bent an ear to
it--might have read a lesson to the haughty favourite who had acquired,
and was now augmenting, this fair domain. A large and massive
keep--[that already described as Cæsar’s Tower]--which formed the
citadel of the castle, was of uncertain though great antiquity: it bore
the name of Cæsar, probably from its resemblance to that in the Tower of
London so called. The external wall of this royal castle was, on the
south and west sides, adorned and defended by a lake, partly artificial,
across which Leicester had constructed a stately bridge, that Elizabeth
might enter the castle by a path hitherto untrodden, instead of the
usual entrance to the northward, over which he had erected a <g>Gate-house</g>
or barbican, which still exists, and is equal in extent, and superior in
architecture, to the baronial castle of many a northern chief. Beyond
the lake lay an extensive chase, full of red deer, fallow deer, roes,
and every species of game, and abounding with lofty trees, from amongst
which the extended front and massive towers of the castle were seen to
rise in majesty and beauty.” Such was the royal Castle of Kenilworth,
when, attended by thirty-one barons, the ladies of her court, and four
hundred inferior servants, Queen Elizabeth accepted the hospitality of
Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.

[Illustration]

<g>The progresses</g> of the maiden Queen were eminently calculated to inspire
lofty ideas of royalty. They were performed with a pomp and circumstance
which dazzled the popular eye, drew around her the great and gifted of
the land, excited the envy and admiration of foreigners, and, by the
splendid hospitality with which she was entertained, insured a free and
even profuse circulation of money wherever she halted.

Harrison, after enumerating the Queen’s palaces, adds, “But what shall I
need to take upon me to repeat all, and tell what houses the Queen’s
Majesty hath? Sith all is hers; and when it pleaseth her in the summer
season to recreate herself abroad, and view the estate of the country,
and hear the complaints of her poor commons, injured by her unjust
officers or their substitutes; every nobleman’s house is her palace,
where she continueth during pleasure, and till she return again to some
of her own, in which she remaineth so long as she pleaseth.”[201] But in
no palace was her Majesty entertained in such gorgeous state as in that
of Kenilworth.

It was the twilight of a summer night--the 9th of July, 1575--the sun
having for some time set, and all were in anxious expectation of the
Queen’s immediate approach. “The multitude had remained assembled for
many hours, and their numbers were still rather on the increase. A
profuse distribution of refreshments, together with roasted oxen, and
barrels of ale set abroach in different places of the road, had kept the
populace in perfect love and loyalty towards the Queen and her
favourite, which might have somewhat abated had fasting been added to
watching. They passed away the time, therefore, with the usual popular
amusements of whooping, hallooing, shrieking, and playing rude tricks
upon each other, forming the chorus of discordant sounds usual on such
occasions. These prevailed all through the crowded roads and fields, and
especially beyond the gate of the chase, where the greater number of the
common sort were stationed; when all of a sudden, a single rocket was
seen to shoot into the atmosphere, and, at the instant, far heard over
flood and field, the great bell of the castle tolled.

“Immediately there was a pause of dead silence, succeeded by a deep hum
of expectation, the united voice of many thousands, none of whom spoke
above their breath; or, to use a singular expression, the whisper of an
immense multitude.”

The annexed account is abridged from the “Somerz Progrest, 1575.”

His honour, <g>Robert Dudley</g>, having made her Majesty great cheer at dinner
on her halt at Long Ichington, and pleasant pastime in hunting by the
way after, it was eight o’clock in the evening ere her Highness came to
Killingworth; where, in the park, about a slight shoot from the Brays
and first gate of the castle, one of the ten sibyls, comely clad in a
pall of white silk, pronounced a proper poezie in English rhyme and
metre,--of effect how great gladness her good presence brought into
every stead where it pleased her to come; and specially now into that
place that had so often longed after the same; and ended with prophecy
certain, of much and long prosperity, health, and felicity. This her
Majesty benignly accepting, passed forth unto the next gate of the
Brays, which for the length, largeness, and use--as well it may so
serve--they call now the Tilt-yard, where a porter, tall of person, big
of limb, and stern of countenance, wrapt also all in silk, with a club
and keys of quantity according, had a rough speech full of passions, in
metre, aptly made to the purpose: whereby, as her Highness was come
within his ward, he burst out in a great pang of impatience to see such
uncouth trudging to and fro, such riding in and out, with such din and
noise of talk within the charge of his office; whereof he never saw the
like, nor had any warning afore, nor yet could make to himself any cause
of the matter. At last, upon better view and advisement, as he pressed
to come nearer, confessing anon that he found himself pierced at the
presence of a personage, so evidently expressing an heroical sovereignty
over all the whole estates, and by degrees there beside, calmed his
astonishment, proclaimed open gates and free passage to all, yielded up
his club, his keys, his office, and all, and on his knees humbly prayed
pardon of his ignorance and impatience: which her Highness graciously
granting, he caused his trumpeters that stood upon the wall of the gate
there, to sound up a tune of welcome. Which,

[Illustration]

beside the noble noise, was so much the more pleasant to behold, because
these trumpeters, being six in number, were every one an eight foot
high, in due proportion of person beside, all in long garments of silk
suitable, each with his silvery trumpet of five foot long, formed taper
ways, and straight from the upper part unto the nether end, where the
diameter was sixteen inches over, and yet so tempered by art, that being
very easy to the blast, they cast forth no great noise, nor a more
unpleasant sound for time and tune, than any other common trumpet, be it
never so artificially formed. These harmonious blasters, from the
foreside of the gate at her Highness’s entrance where they began,
walking upon the walls unto the inner, had this music maintained from
them very delectably; while her Highness, all along this tilt-yard, rode
under the inner gate, next the base-court of the castle: where the Lady
of the Lake, famous in King Arthur’s Book, with two nymphs waiting upon
her arrayed all in silks, attended her Highness’s coming. From the midst
of the pool, where, upon a moveable island, bright blazing with torches,
she, floating to land, met her Majesty with a well-penned metre, and
matter after this sort: viz. First of the antiquity of the castle, who
had been owner of the same e’en till this day, most always in the hands
of the Earls of Leicester; how she had kept this lake since King
Arthur’s days; and now, understanding of her Highness’s coming hither,
thought it both office and duty, in humble ways to discover her and her
estate; offering up the same, her lake and power therein, with promise
of repair unto the court. It pleased her Highness to thank this lady,
and to add withall, “We had thought indeed the lake had been ours, and
do you call it yours now? Well, we will herein commune more with you
hereafter.”

This pageant was closed up with a delectable harmony of hautboys,
shalms, cornets, and such other loud music, that held on while her
Majesty pleasantly so passed from thence toward the castle gate;
whereunto from the base-court, over a dry valley cast into a good form,
was there framed a fayre bridge of a twenty foot wide, and a seventy
foot long, gravelled for treading, railed on either part with seven
posts on a side, that stood twelve foot asunder, thickened between with
well-proportioned pillars turned. Upon the first pair of posts were set
two comely square wire cages, a three foot long, two foot wide; and high
in them live bitterns, civileirs, shoovelarz, hearsheawz, godwitz, and
such like dainty birds of the presents of Sylvanus, the God of Fowls. On
the second pair, two great silver’d bowls, featly apted to the purpose,
filled with apples, pears, cherries, filberds, walnuts, fresh upon their
branches; and with oranges, pomegranates, lemons, and pippins, all as
gifts of Pomona, the Goddess of Fruits. The third pair of posts, in two
such silver’d bowls, had (all in ears green and old) wheat, barley,
oats, beans, and pease, as the gifts of Ceres. The fourth post against
it had a pair of great white silver livery pots for wine; and before
them two glasses of good capacity filled full; the one with white wine,
the other with claret, so fresh of colour, and of look so lovely,
smiling to the eyes of many, that by my faith methought, by their
leering, they could have found in their hearts, as the evening was hot,
to have kissed them sweetly, and thought it no sin: and these for the
potential presents of Bacchus, the God of Wine. The fifth pair had each
a fair large tray, strewed with fresh grass; and in them, conger, burt,
mullet, fresh herring, oysters, salmon, crevis, and such like, being
gifts to her Highness, from Neptune, God of the Sea. On the sixth pair
of posts were set two ragged staves of silver, as my Lord gives them in
arms, beautifully glittering of armour, thereupon depending, bows,
arrows, spears, shield head-pieces, gorget, corslets, swords, targets,
and such like, for Mars’ gifts, the God of War. And the more aptly,
methought, was it that those ragged staves supported these martial
presents, as well because these staves by their tines seem naturally
meet for the bearing of armour, as also that they chiefly in this place
might take upon them principal protection of her Highness’s person, that
so benignly pleased her to take harbour. On the seventh posts, the last
and next to the castle, were there pight to faer bay branches of a four
foot high, adorned on all sides with lutes, violins, shalms, cornets,
flutes, recorders, and harps, as the presents of Phœbus, the God of
Music, for rejoicing the mind, and also of physic, for health to the
body. Over the castle gate was there fastened a table, beautifully
garnished above with her Highness’s arms, and featly with ivy wreathes
bordered about, of a ten foot square; the ground black, whereupon in
large white Roman capitals, fayr written, a poem mentioning these gods
and their gifts, thus presented unto her Highness: which, because it
remained unremoved, I took it out as followeth:--[Each word in reference
to the Queen was written in gold.]--


<g>Ad Majestatem Regiam.</g>

    Jupiter huc certos cernens <g>te</g> tendere gressus
    Cœlicolas Princeps actutum convocat omnes;
    Obsequium præstare jubet <g>tibi</g> quemque benignum.
    Unde suas Sylvanus aves, Pomonaque fructus,
    Alma Ceres fruges, hilarantia vina Lyæus,
    Neptunus pisces, tela et tutantia Mavors,
    Suave melos Phœbus, solidamque longamque salutem.
    Dii <g>tibi, Regina</g>, hæc (cum sis Dignissima) præbent;
    Hoc <g>tibi</g> cum Domino, dedit se et werda Kenelmi.

This was read to her by a poet, “in a long ceruleous garment, with a bay
garland on his head, and a skro in his hand. So passing into the inner
court, her Majesty (that never rides but alone), thear set down from her
palfrey,

[Illustration]

was conveied up to <g>Chamber</g>[202] [in which stood a splendid
<g>Chimney-piece</g>], when after did follo a great peal of gunz, and lightning
by fyrwork.”--Progrest.

The festivities lasted seventeen days, and comprised nearly every
pastime which the resources of the age could produce. The hart was
hunted in the park; the dance was proclaimed in the gallery; and the
tables were loaded from morn to midnight with sumptuous cheer. The park
was peopled with mimic gods and goddesses, to surprise the regal
visitant with complimentary dialogues and poetical representations. In
the chase, a savage man, with satyrs, bear-baitings, fireworks, Italian
tumblers, a country bride-ale, with runnings at the quintain and
morrice-dancing; and that nothing might be wanting which those parts
could afford, the Coventry men came and acted the ancient play, long
since used in that city, called “Hock’s Tuesday,”[203] setting forth the
destruction of the Danes in King Ethelred’s time; which pleased the
Queen so much, that she gave them a brace of bucks, and five marks in
money, to bear the charges of a feast. Likewise on the pool there was a
Triton, riding on a mermaid, eighteen feet long; as also Arion, on a
dolphin; and rare music. The costs and expenses of these entertainments
may be guessed at by the quantity of beer then drank, which amounted to
three hundred and twenty hogsheads of the ordinary sort. More simple
amusements were also studiously introduced: the rural neighbours were
assembled to run at the quintain; and a marriage, in strict consistency
with country ceremonials, was celebrated under the observance of the
Queen. Every hour had its peculiar sport. A famous Italian tumbler
displayed feats of agility; morris-dancers went through their rude
evolutions, by way of interlude; and thirteen bears were baited for the
gratification of the courtiers! During the Queen’s stay, five gentlemen
were honoured with knighthood, and “nyne persons were cured of the
peynful and daungerous deseaz called the King’s Evil.”--Letter from a
freend officer attendant in the coourt unto his freend a citizen and
merchaunt of London, in this Somerz Progrest, 1575.

After this splendid reception given to her Majesty at Kenilworth, and
which cost the noble host a thousand pounds per diem, Leicester
continued to make the Castle his favourite residence. <g>At his death</g> he
bequeathed it to his brother

[Illustration]

Ambrose Earl of Warwick for life, and after him to his own son Sir
Robert Dudley, who wandered abroad till his father’s death, when he
returned, and challenged his right to the family dignities; which being
denied, he determined to quit for ever a country in which he had
experienced so much injustice. To complete this long scene of iniquity,
James I. seized the estates by virtue of Mary’s statute of fugitives;
but, in order to avoid the odium which so tyrannical an act justly
merited, obliged Sir Robert to consent to a nominal sale of them to
Henry Prince of Wales, at one third of their value, and even that was
never paid. Thus this great property was unjustly drawn back to the same
source from which, with so little merit, it had been originally
derived.--See Lodge’s Illustrations of British History.--Letters.

<g>Survey</g> by the King’s Commissioners. The following survey of Kenilworth
Castle and the demesne thereto adjoining, which was made at this time,
conveys a splendid idea of a baronial residence. (Our authority is
Dugdale.) The Castle is described as situated on a rock; the circuit
whereof within the walls containeth seven acres; and upon the walls are
walks so spacious and fair, that two or three persons together may walk
upon most places thereof. The Castle and the four gatehouses are all
built of freestone, hewn and cut: the walls in many places are ten and
fifteen feet in thickness, some more, some less, the least four feet.
The Castle and the four gatehouses aforesaid are all covered with lead,
whereby it is subject to no other decay but the glass, through the
extremity of the weather. The rooms of great state within the same are
able to receive his Majesty, the Queen and Prince at the same time, and
are built with as much uniformity and convenience as any houses of later
times, and with such stately cellars (the Undercroft or Nether-hall
already noticed) as are not within this kingdom, and also all other
houses for offices answerable. About the said Castle, in chases and
parks, there lieth twelve hundred pounds per annum; nine hundred whereof
are grounds for pleasure, the rest is meadow and pleasure lands
thereunto adjoining, tenants and freeholders. There joineth upon this
ground a park-like ground called the <g>King’s Wood</g>, with fifteen several
coppices lying together, containing seven hundred and eighty-nine acres
within the same, which in the Earl of Leicester’s time were stored with
red deer, since which the deer have strayed. But the ground is in no
sort blemished, having great store of timber and other trees of much
value upon the same. There runneth through the said grounds, by the
walls of the Castle, a fair pool, containing one hundred and eleven
acres, well stored with fish and wild fowl, which pool is at pleasure to
be let round the Castle.

For timber and wood upon the ground to the value of twenty thousand
pounds has been offered, having a convenient time allowed for their
removal, but which, to his Majesty, are valued at eleven thousand seven
hundred and twenty-two pounds; which proportion, in a like measure, is
held in all the rest upon the other values to his Majesty. The circuit
of the castle, manors, parks, and chase, lying round together, contains
at least nineteen or twenty miles, in a pleasant country; the like both
for strength, state, and pleasure, not being within the realm of
England.

These lands have been surveyed by Commissioners from the King and the
Lord Privy Seal, with directions from his Lordship to _find all things
under their true worth_,[204] and upon the oaths of jurors, as well
freeholders as customary tenants; which course being held by them, are,
notwithstanding, surveyed and returned at thirty-eight thousand five
hundred and fifty-four pounds fifteen shillings. Out of this sum there
is to be deducted ten thousand pounds for Sir Robert Dudley’s
‘Contempt,’ and for the Lady Dudley’s jointure, which is without
impeachment of waste, whereby she may sell all the woods, which by their
survey amount to eleven thousand seven hundred and twenty-two pounds.
His Majesty hath herein the mean profits of the castle and premises,
through Sir Robert Dudley’s ‘Contempt,’ during life, or his Majesty’s
pardon, the reversion in fee being in the Lord Privy Seal.--See
References.

It may be readily imagined that a castle with so many powerful
recommendations was not lost sight of by the King and his advisers; and
as Prince Henry was in want of a country palace befitting his name and
station, that of Kenilworth was at once suggested to him as possessing
every requisite for a princely residence. But independently of that
splendour to which it had been raised by the late Earl of Leicester, the
Castle was strongly associated with the lives and actions of former
sovereigns, who had either made it their residence, or the scene of
alternate conflict or festivity, from the days of Henry the First to
those of Elizabeth. Enhanced by these recommendations, it was an object
of ambition with the prince to obtain possession of it, and with this
view, “affecting it as the noblest and most magnificent thing in the
midland

[Illustration]

parts of this realm, he made overture by special agents” to Sir Robert
Dudley, to purchase the castle and domain for a sum not exceeding
fourteen thousand five hundred pounds. This was probably not more than
one-fourth of its value; but as the offer came from a quarter where he
could expect little favour, and seeing no prospect of his being ever
restored to his paternal inheritance, the unfortunate heir was driven to
the painful alternative of either disposing of his right for the sum
offered, or of provoking by non-compliance the resentment of the Court.
“Whereupon, in consideration of £14,500 being paid within the compass of
a twelvemonth, certain deeds were sealed and fines levied, settling the
inheritance thereof.”

Having completed the transfer, the last hope was abandoned, and Dudley
resolved never to return to a country in which he had received such
manifest injustice. The conditions were, that three thousand pounds
should be paid within a twelvemonth after the ratification of the
transfer; but the money, which was to have been remitted to him at
Florence in Italy, was lost by the failure of the merchant in whose
hands it had been incautiously placed. Of the remaining sum of eleven
thousand five hundred, nothing was ever paid; yet on the death of Henry
the Prince of Wales, his brother Charles took possession of the castle
and manor as heir to his brother, and obtained a grant out of the
Exchequer for four thousand pounds to be paid to the Lady Alice, wife of
Sir Robert Dudley, in lieu of her jointure, but which was not paid for
many years, to the damage of the said lady. It remained thus in the
possession of Prince Charles till his accession to the throne: after
which, in the first year of his reign, he made a grant of it to Robert
Carey, Earl of Monmouth, Lord Carey, his eldest son, and Thomas Carey,
Esq., in whose hands it continued till--

    “Teint du sang de son Roi, l’hypocrite Cromwell
     Etablit, par degrés, son pouvoir criminel:
     Usurpateur habile autant que politique,
     De l’état qu’il transforme en une république,
     Il renverse à son gré les anciens fondemens.”--FASTES BRITANN.

Having then fallen into the hands of Oliver, the castle and manor were
divided amongst several of his officers, who, paying no respect either
to the splendour of the edifice, the richness of the furniture, or the
beauty of the landscape in which the castle was embosomed, regarded it
only in a pecuniary point of view; and apprehensive, probably, that
their tenure was very insecure, made haste to convert everything
available into money. They stript the castle of its princely
decorations, cut down the timber, drained the lake, and demolished the
very walls for the sake of the materials. They threw open the park and
chase, killed and dispersed the deer, and subdivided the whole into
distinct farms, the rental of which they continued to receive and
appropriate to their own use till the Restoration. These officers were
Colonel Hawkesworth, Major Creed, Captain Phipps, Captain Ayres, Captain
Smith, Captain Matthews, and four others, of the names of Hope, Palmer,
Clark, and Coles. “These new lords of the manor,” says the old record of
that day, “tyrannize and govern the parish as they list. They pull down
and demolish the castle, cut down the King’s woods, destroy his parks
and chase, and divide the lands into farms amongst themselves, and build
houses for themselves to dwell in. Hawkesworth seats himself in the
gate-house of the castle, and drains the famous pool, consisting of
several hundred acres of ground. Hope and Palmer enclose a fourth part
of the commons, called the King’s woods, from the inhabitants, and take
it as their own free estate. In 1657 these petty lords, attended by some
of the inhabitants of the parish, took a survey, and gave in an estimate
of all the lands within the liberties of the said manor, and in the
following year, on the fourteenth of June, made their perambulation, and
went their procession round the bounds of the parish. But, on the
twenty-seventh of May, 1660, King Charles the Second came to enjoy his
own dominions, and among others the lands and manor of Kenilworth.
Hereupon these soldiers soon scampered away, when the daughters of Lord
Carey, Earl of Monmouth, intercede and prevail to hold that said manor,
as their father before them, by lease or leases from the Crown.” But
this having nearly expired, he granted the reversion of the whole manor
to Laurence, Lord Hyde, second son to Lord Chancellor Clarendon, whom he
created Baron Kenilworth and Earl of Rochester. On the death of this
nobleman in 1711, he was succeeded in his estates and titles by Henry
his only son, who, at the death of Edward, the third Earl of Clarendon,
in 1723, succeeded to that title also. But leaving no male issue at his
decease in 1753, his grand-daughter, the Lady Charlotte Capel--daughter
of William Capel, Earl of Essex, and the Lady Jane Hyde, his wife, then
dead--became the representative of the Hyde family, and, in pursuance of
the will of the late earl, took the name and arms of Hyde. This lady
married the Honorable Thomas Villiers, second son of the Earl of Jersey,
who in 1756 was created, by George the Second, Baron Hyde of Hindon, in
the county of Wilts. He

[Illustration:

See Appendix.
]

had the further title of Earl of Clarendon conferred upon him by George
the Third, and, at his death in 1786, was succeeded by his eldest son
the late earl, whose family honours are inherited by his nephew, George
William-Frederick Villiers, Earl of Clarendon, Lord Hyde of Hindon, a
Count of Prussia, and sometime envoy and minister plenipotentiary at the
Court of Madrid. Such is a brief outline of the descent of Kenilworth
Castle, and of the many changes which it has undergone during the lapse
of seven centuries.

    “Illustrious Ruin! hoary Kenilworth!
     Thou hast outlived the customs of thy day;
     And, in the imbecility of age,
     Art now the spectacle of modern times.
     Yet though thy halls are silent, though thy bowers
     Re-echo back the traveller’s lonely tread,
     Again imagination bids thee rise
     In all thy dread magnificence and strength;
     Thy draw-bridge, foss, and frowning battlements,
     Portcullis, barbican, and donjon-tower.”

In addition to the particulars already stated regarding the life and
character of that extraordinary individual, Robert, Earl of Leicester,
we avail ourselves of the following facts, as related by various writers
who were his contemporaries, and founded their judgment on close
personal observation. During the life of his father, the Duke of
Northumberland, the first appointment which he received at Court, and to
which he was duly sworn, was that of one of the six gentlemen in
ordinary to Edward the Sixth. “But,” says Hayward in his life of that
monarch, “this Robert Dudley was his father’s true heir, both of his
hate against persons of nobility, and cunning to dissemble the same; and
afterwards for lust and cruelty a monster of the Court; and as he was
apt to hate, so was he a true executioner of his hatred; such was his,
rather by practice than by open dealing, as wanting rather courage than
wit; and,” adds the same authority darkly, “after his entertainment into
a place of so near service (that of the privy chamber), the king enjoyed
his health not long.” (Sir John Hayward’s Life of Edward the Sixth.) But
although included in the sentence of attainder pronounced against his
family, he soon emerged from obscurity, and by the very hand which had
signed his father’s execution, he was made master of the Queen’s horse
at the battle of St. Quentin’s, an office which was also confirmed to
him by Elizabeth, who--to the surprise of many, and the disgust of all
who knew his real merits--loaded him with honours. He was installed a
Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, made Constable of Windsor
Castle for life, and finally recommended as a husband to Mary, Queen of
Scots; promising, that on the Queen’s assenting thereto, she, Elizabeth,
would then, by authority of Parliament, declare her to be her sister or
daughter, and heir to the crown of England, in case she herself should
die without issue. Her real intentions, however, are matter of
suspicion; and those who were best acquainted with the policy of the
Maiden Queen, thought that all this show was merely to try if the
proposal would be accepted, and then to marry him herself with less
dishonour. (See Appendix.)

[Illustration]

To give further weight to this recommendation, she advanced him to the
dignity of the peerage with the title of Baron Denbigh, and the very day
following, being Michaelmas-day, she raised him to the Earldom of
Leicester. But the French nation esteeming it dishonourable that such an
alliance should be offered to Queen Mary, urged the Scotch authorities
to decline it,--promising the nation many advantages in return, and
suggesting that Elizabeth had no real intention of ever allowing the
match to be carried into effect (Dugdale), a suspicion which appears to
have been correctly founded. In compliment to Elizabeth, with whom
Dudley was now the chief favourite, Charles the Ninth conferred upon him
the Order of St. Michael. No Englishman had ever been admitted into this
Order before, except Henry the Eighth, Edward the Sixth, and Charles
Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, which made the Queen “look upon it as a
considerable honour.” The ambassador charged with this complimentary
office was M. Rambouillet; and the Queen having selected from the
noblemen of her Court the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Leicester--the
one distinguished by his high birth, the other by her Majesty’s
favour--as candidates for the honour, they were invested in the Royal
Chapel at Whitehall with great solemnity. But the more that honours were
showered upon Leicester, the more was he exposed to the contempt of the
old nobility, who felt as if their own degradation at Court was in exact
proportion to his advancement. This was not disguised by the Earl of
Sussex, who piqued himself much in the antiquity of his house, and could
ill brook to see the Queen’s favour lavished on a parvenu. “Who,” said
he, “is this Earl of Leicester? He can name but two ancestors, and both
were executed for treason!” This language--which was the more galling
from its truth--divided the whole Court into factions; and whenever the
two earls went abroad, they were attended with a large retinue of
followers, armed with “swords and bucklers, with iron pikes pointing out
at the bosses,” insomuch that the Queen was compelled to interpose her
authority, when the breach was seemingly made up. But Sussex never
overcame his aversion to Leicester; and even in his last illness
addressed his friends in these words: “I am now passing into another
world, and must leave you to your fortunes and to the Queen’s grace and
goodness; but beware of the ‘Gypsie’ (meaning Leicester), for he will be
too hard for you all: you know not the beast so well as I do.”

Leicester, continuing to advance in favour, was one of the peers
appointed for the trial of the Duke of Norfolk; and four years
afterwards, when Walter, Earl of Essex, died in Ireland by “no common
death,” it was much suspected that he had a hand in it; which is the
more probable, as from that time he forsook his wife, the Lady Douglas
Sheffield, by whom he had a son, Robert, already mentioned, and promised
her much money and other advantages in case she would be content
therewith, and so married Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knolles, and
widow of the Earl of Essex, “to whom,” says Dugdale, “he had privately
borne much affection before.”

The death of Essex, “in the midst of incredible torments,” was
attributed to poison. Two of his own servants, Crumpton his cupbearer,
and Lloyd his secretary, are reported to have been confederates in the
murder; and it is said that Mrs. Alice Dracot, a pious lady, whom the
earl much valued, was accidentally poisoned at the same time and with
the same cup, and died a few days before him. It is farther alleged that
his lordship’s page, who was accustomed to taste of his drink before he
gave it to him, very hardly escaped with his life, and not without ‘the
loss of his hair,’ though he drank but a small quantity; and that the
earl, in compassion to the boy, called for a cup of drink a little
before his death, and drank to him in a friendly manner; and says he, “I
drink to thee, my Robin; but ben’t afraid, ’tis a better cup of drink
than that thou tookest to taste when we both were poisoned.” (Secret
Memoirs of the Earl of Leicester.) This report was formally contradicted
by Sir Henry Sidney, the Lord Deputy of Ireland; but the suspicion of
Leicester’s being privy to the death of Essex was never removed; and the
facts of his previous intimacy and subsequent marriage with the countess
added no little strength to the charge.

When the marriage between the Queen and the Duke of Anjou was first
suggested at Court, he opposed it with all his influence, public and
private, and had the satisfaction of attending that prince on his hasty
departure from the English Court. But on his return, the elevation at
his success was not a little damped by the discovery that his marriage
with the Lady Lettice had been communicated to the Queen by Simier, the
French minister, in revenge of the defeated plans of the Duke of Anjou.
Greatly incensed at this act of duplicity, and piqued with jealousy of
the lady, Elizabeth caused the Earl to be shut up in the Castle of
Greenwich, as a prelude to his being sent to the Tower. Charging all
these misfortunes to the conduct of Simier, he indulged the wildest
passion for revenge; but the rigour of his confinement was soon
moderated; the Queen relented; and the only results were greater
honours, more unlimited confidence, which proved that Dudley held no
secondary place in the heart of the Queen.

[Illustration]

It was in his Castle of Kenilworth that Leicester first married Lady
Essex privately; but her father, Sir Francis Knolles, being well
acquainted with his lordship’s inconstancy, refused to give any credit
to it unless the marriage were solemnised in his own presence. In
consequence of this resolution, the ceremony was again performed at
Wanstead, in presence of the said Sir Francis, the Earl of Warwick, the
Lord North, a public notary, and several other witnesses. On the
publication of marriage, his former wife, the Lady Douglas, in “order to
secure her life from any future practices,” contracted a marriage with
Sir Edward Stafford, a man of high character and reputation, and at that
time Her Majesty’s ambassador in France. This step was peremptorily
called for, as she laboured under constant apprehension of being made
away with by Leicester; for it is certain, according to Dugdale, that
she had already “some ill potions given to her,” so that, with the loss
of her hair and nails, she narrowly escaped death.

Some time before the arrival of Simier with overtures from the Duke of
Anjou, Leicester had engaged Astley, one of the Queen’s bedchamber, to
search out her disposition towards him, and had met with an unfavourable
answer. For when he was covertly recommended to her Majesty for a
husband, she replied in a passion--“Do you think that in choosing a
husband I should be so regardless of my character, so unmindful of my
royal dignity, as to prefer my servant whom myself have raised, to the
greatest princes of Christendom?” These words being reported, were
thunderbolts to the Earl of Leicester; who now perceived that, should
he interpose in the affair of the French match, his opposition would be
construed to proceed from interested motives, and might be a means to
promote rather than prevent it. He therefore chose to withdraw himself
from public view, to counterfeit sickness and retire to his chamber; and
there, under pretence of taking physic, he became a voluntary prisoner.

In 1585, he was made Justice-eyre of all the Forests south of Trent. He
received a commission for levying five hundred men to be sent into
Holland; and three weeks afterwards, he was constituted Lieutenant and
Captain-General of the whole army designed for the service of the United
Provinces against the Spaniards, and the same year took the command in
person. In little more than a year, however, many grave charges were
brought against him by the States for having abused his authority, and
neglected the due performance of the high trusts reposed in him. Greatly
mortified at these complaints, which, besides wounding his vanity, had a
tendency to weaken his influence at Court, he affected disgust at the
injustice inflicted upon him, and made his last will and testament at
Middleburg, as a preparation for his retiring altogether from the public
service. The contents of this will, dated the 1st of August, 1587, have
been already mentioned.

On his return to England, he found that the complaints lodged against
him by the Dutch had so moved the Queen’s displeasure, that “he was
constrained to humble himself to his royal mistress, and with tears to
beg of her, that, having sent him thither with power, she would not
receive him back with disgrace; that whom she had raised from the dust,
she would not bury alive!” The Queen was moved by this strain of courtly
pleading, and the influence of the favourite became greater than ever.
The last public service in which Leicester was engaged was with the army
at Tilbury, when the Spanish Armada was expected to make a landing, and
when the Queen, in addressing the troops, did him honour in these terms:
“In the meantime, my Lieutenant-General shall be in my stead, than whom
never prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but
by your obedience to my General, by your concord in the camp, and by
your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over
the enemies of my God, of my kingdoms, and of my people.” But,
notwithstanding her Majesty’s commendation, there was no opportunity for
his lordship to exert his abilities; for the Spanish army never landed
on the English shore--the elements performed all the service which was
to have devolved on Leicester.

Having thus concluded his public career, he designed to spend the
remainder of his days in his Castle of Kenilworth, on which he had
continued to expend all the resources of art; but, taken suddenly ill of
a fever at Cornbury Park, in Oxfordshire, he there closed his earthly
account, on the 4th of September. From Cornbury Park his remains were
conveyed with much pomp to Warwick, and there interred, in our Lady’s
Chapel, adjoining the choir of the Collegiate Church, where a very noble
monument was erected to his memory, with the following inscription:--

     DEO VIVENTIUM S.

     Spe Certa Resurgendi In Christo Hic Situs Est Illustrissimus
     Robertus Dudleyus, Johannis Ducis Northumbriæ, Comitis Warwicki,
     Vice-Comitis Insulæ, &c., Filius Quintus, Comes Leicestriæ, Baro
     Denbighæ, Ordinis Tum S. Georgii Cum S. Michaelis Eques Auratus,
     Reginæ Elizabethæ (Apud Quam Singulari Gratia Florebat) Hippocomus
     Regiæ Aulæ, Subinde Seneschallus, Ab Intimis Conciliis; Forestarum,
     Parcorum, Chacearum, &c. Citra Trentam Summus Justificarius;
     Exercitus Anglici A Dicta Regina Elizabetha Missi In Belgio, Ab
     Anno MDLXXXV. Ad Annum MDLXXXVII. Locum Tenens Et Capitaneus
     Generalis; Provinciarum Confederatarum Ibidem Gubernator Generalis
     Et Præfectus, Regnique Angliæ Locum Tenens Contra Philippum II.
     Hispanum, Numerosa Classe Et Exercitu Angliam Anno MDLXXXVIII.
     Invadentem. Animam Deo Servatori Reddidit, Anno Salutis
     MDLXXXVIII., Die Quarto Septembris. Optimo Et Charissimo Marito,
     Mœstissima Uxor Leticia, Francisci Knolles Ordinis S. Georgii
     Equitis Aurati, Et Regiæ Thesaurarii, Filia, Amoris Et Conjugalis
     Fidei Ergo Posuit.

It is said that the Earl died much in the Queen’s debt, and that her
Majesty caused his goods to be sold at a public sale, that payment might
be made; for “however favourable,” says her biographer, “she might have
been in all other respects, the Queen is observed never to have remitted
the debts that were owing to her treasury.”

[Illustration]

The generally received account is, that his death was occasioned by his
having swallowed a draught of poison, which had been designed by him for
another person: a just stroke of retribution for the lives which--as
there were strong grounds to suspect--had been cut short by his
employment of the like means. In a curious manuscript copy of the
information given by Ben Jonson to Drummond of Hawthornden, as abridged
by Sir Robert Sibbald, Leicester’s death is ascribed to poison
administered as a cordial by his Countess, to whom he had given it,
representing it to be a restorative in any faintness, in the hope that
she herself might be cut off by using it. It may be here added, that the
following satirical epitaph on Leicester occurs in Drummond’s
Collections, but is “evidently,” says Scott, “not of his
composition:”--

    <g>Epitaph on the Erle of Leister.</g>

    Here lies a valiant warrior,
      Who never drew a sword;
    Here lies a noble courtier,
      Who never kept his word;
    Here lies the Erle of Leister,
      Who govern’d the estates,
    Whom the earth could never living love,
      And the just heaven now hates.
                “KENILWORTH,” Vol. ii. 397.

The character of Leicester is thus summed up by Camden in his Annals of
Elizabeth:--“He was esteemed a most accomplished courtier, free and
bountiful to soldiers and scholars; a cunning time-server and respecter
of his own advantages; of a disposition ready and apt to please; crafty
and subtle towards his adversaries; much given formerly to women, and in
his latter days doating extremely upon marriage. But, whilst he
preferred power and greatness, which are subject to be envied before
solid virtue, his detracting emulators found large matter to speak
reproachfully of him, and, even when he was in his most flourishing
condition, spared not disgracefully to defame him by libels, not without
a mixture of some untruths.” But, “to take him in the observation of his
letters,” says Sir Robert Naunton, “I never saw a style or phrase more
seeming religious and fuller of the strains of devotion, had they been
sincere!”--Dugd. Bar.; Camden’s Annals; Secret Mem. of Robert Dudley.

The following particulars of Sir Robert Dudley, who was so unjustly
deprived of his rightful inheritance, may be new to some of our readers.
His life is a striking instance of the vicissitudes to which every
condition of society, and more particularly that of the patrician order,
was exposed, during the period in question. He was educated at Christ
Church, Oxford, and is said to have been a profound mathematician, and
master of other acquirements, which he had afterwards an opportunity of
turning to good purpose abroad. His earliest service was in 1595, when
he had the command of three small ships, with which he took and
destroyed nine Spanish traders freighted with wine. The following year
he served under the Earl of Essex in the expedition to Cadiz, where he
displayed so much characteristic gallantry and prudence, that he
received from her Majesty the honour of knighthood; and was justly
esteemed among his companions in arms, as a soldier who possessed in no
ordinary degree the virtues of wisdom and prowess.

Soon after this, in a voyage to the West Indies, he called an island in
the mouth of the river Orinoco, after his own name, Dudleyana. In the
will of his father, the “favourite Dudley,” he is pronounced
illegitimate--“my base son;” but notwithstanding this paternal stigma,
there is every ground to believe that he was born in wedlock: for it
appeared by depositions afterwards taken on oath in the Star Chamber,
that the Earl of Leicester had been lawfully married to his mother, the
Lady Douglas Sheffield, by a clergyman, according to the form prescribed
by the Church of England. But by the interest of the Lady Letitia, widow
to the Earl of Essex, whom Leicester had married some time before his
death, these depositions were ordered to be sealed up by the Clerk of
the Court, and never more to be seen or published; whilst at the same
time a censure was passed upon the deponents as having entered into a
conspiracy to defame the Dowager Lady Leicester, and unjustly to entitle
Sir Robert Dudley to the honours which had been enjoyed by his
ancestors. The unfairness, the palpable injustice of such proceedings,
filled his mind with such disgust, that he determined, as already
mentioned, to abandon the country of his birth; and having obtained the
King’s permission to travel for three years, proceeded to Italy, where
he took up his residence in the Tuscan capital with “the style of Earl
of Warwick.” But having left several enemies at home, who watched every
opportunity to wrest from him his princely inheritance of <g>Kenilworth</g>,
his absence was construed into disaffection;

[Illustration]

and a special Privy Seal being obtained for that purpose, he was
commanded to return home forthwith. But fully aware of the motive which
actuated the King’s advisers, and of the annoyance and mortification
which awaited him, he evaded the summons, and resolved to continue in
exile beyond the Alps. Advantage was immediately taken of his contumacy,
and by the “statute of fugitives,” his lands were seized in the manner
already described in the survey, and the mesne profits of them applied
to the King’s use.

There is a romantic story told of this Sir Robert--the last of the
Dudleys of Kenilworth--which mentions, that on quitting England he
carried off with him the beautiful daughter of Sir Robert Southwell, in
the habit of a <g>Page</g>.[205] The lady had long been the object of his
admiration; but as the legal proceedings instituted against him were
calculated, however unjustly, to strip him of his inheritance and
degrade him in his station, the family of the lady were naturally averse
to the alliance, and took all necessary precautions to break off the
intimacy which had hitherto existed between the parties. Driven to the
necessity of expedients, where the open and honourable profession of his
attachment had been rejected with coldness or even disdain, the knight
employed stratagem; and having arranged a stolen interview with the
lady, had no great difficulty in persuading her to quit an ungrateful
country, and with him to seek refuge in that southern land where he was
sure of a welcome, and where, at least, they would be far beyond the
reach of both kingly and paternal despotism. How these arguments were
received by the lady may be readily understood by the fact, that, within
a few days after this interview, Sir Robert Dudley, accompanied by a
beautiful page, had embarked for Italy.

It is not our province to detail the adventures which befell this “Lara”
of his time, and his gentle page by the way; but on their reaching the
Tuscan Athens, the page had suddenly disappeared, no person of his small
retinue knew how. In the venerable church of the Santa Croce, however,
preparations were observed as if for some religious solemnity; and in
the evening of the feast of St. George, Dudley communicated to his
immediate friends and attendants, that he should that evening lead a
bride to the altar, and invited them to partake of the supper which had
been prepared at his quarters in the Piazza della Trinità. The mere
announcement of his marriage excited no particular surprise; for
inheriting the manly figure, the courtly manners, and elegant
accomplishments of his father, whom the maiden Queen of England had so
“delighted to honour,” it was readily surmised that some signora, with
the old Etruscan blood in her veins, had made a conquest of the English
knight: and yet the name of the lady was a profound secret, which
puzzled as much the learned cognoscenti as it did the simple contadini,
whom the rumour of “English espousals” had drawn to the square in front
of the church. But the mystery was speedily solved; for the procession
was already under the porch of the sacred temple, and on kneeling at the
altar it was no difficult matter to recognize in the lovely bride, the
peerless features of Blanche Southwell--the faithful page of the exiled
Robert Dudley.

Having now fixed his residence on the banks of the Arno, and become
master of that rank and consideration which had been denied him at home,
Dudley’s active mind, forgetting the splendour of Kenilworth Castle,
soon began to exert its energies in an enterprise of great public
utility. This was in concerting plans for the drainage of the fens and
marshes in the neighbourhood of Leghorn, adjoining the Maremma; and with
so much success did he prosecute his undertaking, that he raised that
town from an inconsiderable fishing village, to the rank and importance
of one of the most frequented seaports in Italy. Thus, out of seeming
evil, disgrace, destitution, expatriation, much ultimate good was
educed, not only to the country which had extended to him the rights of
hospitality, but to himself and his successors. The Duke settled a
handsome pension upon him. The reputation of his accomplishments,
coupled with the history of his misfortunes, secured for him the highest
consideration in Italy; while the Emperor of Germany, Ferdinand the
Second, conferred upon him, by letters-patent, dated Vienna, March,
1620, the title of Duke; in consequence of which he resumed that of his
grandfather, the attainted Duke of Northumberland, whose tragical end we
have already mentioned in the earlier portion of this work. Thus
elevated to the highest rank in the state, Dudley erected a magnificent

[Illustration]

palace in the city of Florence, and there spent his days in works of
public utility and private beneficence. His daughters by the lady, whose
romantic story we have just recorded, were all married to princes of the
Empire; and at his own demise--when he was succeeded in the same title
by his eldest son Charles--a grant was obtained from King Charles the
First, under the great seal of England, that his widow, the Lady Alice,
should enjoy the title of Duchess for her natural life, and that her
daughters should take rank and precedence accordingly.

This Sir Robert Dudley, according to Dugdale, was a man of heroic
stature, “comely in feature, strong, valiant, famous at the exercise of
tilting; singularly skilled in all mathematick learning, but chiefly in
navigation and architecture; a rare chymist, and of great knowledge in
physick, as his learned works do sufficiently manifest--especially that
‘De Arcanis Maris,’ printed at Florence in 1646, and afterwards at
Venice in folio, adorned with sculpture: also that of physic called
‘Catholicon,’ of no small esteem with the most skilful in that
profession. Nor is his memory a little famous as the inventor of that
powder called Cornachine-powder; touching the virtue whereof, the
learned Marcus Cornachinus, of Pisa, hath written, and endeavoured to
show that all corporeal diseases may be safely and suddenly cured
thereby.

“Nor is it less remarkable that his merits were so highly esteemed by
the grand Duke of Tuscany (Cosmo the Second), as that he allowed him an
yearly stipend of little less than a thousand pounds sterling....
Moreover, he died at a palace of the Dukes of Florence, two or three
Italian miles distant from that city, in or about the year 1650. And his
bodye resteth in the monastery of the nuns at Boldrone, except it be
removed to the church of St. Pancras in Florence, where he raised a
noble monument for his wife, with purpose to be there interred himself.
Likewise he left to his sons divers curious mathematical instruments,
chiefly of his own invention, of which they, making little use, have
disposed of to the great Duke of Tuscany.”--Dugd. Baron, Art. Leicest.
vol. ii. p. 225.

<g>Classical Associations.</g>--The narrative of the popular romance of
Kenilworth hinges upon the sad fortunes of Amy Robsart, which form “a
painful tissue of unvaried disappointments, distresses, and privations,
closed by an unmerited and horrible death.”

We have already observed that the first wife of Leicester was Amy, the
daughter of Sir John Robsart, of Sheen, in Surrey; a match effected,
like most of the marriages between the offspring of the great in that
age, “when the parties,” says Warner, “were very young, and resulting
from plans and adjustments of their parents, rather than from their own
predilection for each other.” The connexion was sanctioned by the young
king, Edward the Sixth, who honoured the ceremony with his presence, and
speedily advanced the bridegroom to considerable offices at court. For a
few years Leicester and his wife appear to have lived together on what
are called decent, if not on affectionate, terms; and though the rays of
royal favour, which daily shone upon him with increasing warmth,
gradually produced and embittered his regret at having matched himself
with so humble a partner for life as <g>Amy Robsart</g>, yet he does not seem
to have conceived any notion of ridding himself of this domestic burthen
by violent means, till the prospect of sharing either the Scotch or the
English throne dazzled his imagination. To both of these speculations,
Amy was an insurmountable obstacle; and he resolved to remove it by her
immediate destruction. How this was effected is a matter of some doubt.
All that we know of it is contained in the following narrations: “Robert
Dudley, Earl of Leicester, a very goodly personage, being a great
favourite to Queen Elizabeth, it was thought, and commonly reported,
that had he been a bachelor or widower, the Queen would have made him
her husband. To this end, to free himself from all obstacles, he, with
flattering entreaties, desires his wife to repose herself at Cumnor, in
Berkshire, at his servant Anthony Foster’s house, who then lived in the
manor-house of this place; and also prescribed to Sir Varney, a promoter
of this design, at his coming hither, that he should first attempt to
poison her, and if that did not take effect, then by any way whatsoever
to despatch her.” The poisoning scheme, Aubrey says, not succeeding, the
foul instruments of Leicester’s villany effected their purpose in the
following manner: “Sir Richard Varney, who, by the Earl’s order,
remained with her alone on the day of her death, and Foster, who had
that day forcibly sent away all her servants from her to Abingdon fair,
about three miles’ distance from this place; these two persons first
stifling her, or

[Illustration]

else strangling her, afterwards flung her down a pair of stairs, and
broke her neck, using much violence upon her; yet caused it to be
reported that she fell down of herself, believing the world would have
thought it a mischance, and not have suspected the villany. As soon as
she was murdered, they made haste to bury her, before the coroner had
given in his inquest, which the Earl himself condemned, as not done
advisedly; and her father, Sir John Robsart, hearing, came with all
speed hither, caused her corpse to be taken up, the coroner to sit upon
her, and further enquiry to be made concerning this business to the
full. But it was generally thought that the earl stopped his mouth; who,
to show the great love he bore to her while alive, and what a grief the
loss of so virtuous a lady was to his tender heart, caused her body to
be buried in St. Mary’s Church, Oxford, with great pomp and solemnity.
It is also remarkable that Dr. Babington, the earl’s chaplain, preaching
the funeral sermon, tripped once or twice in his speech, recommending to
their memories that virtuous lady so pitifully _murdered_, instead of
saying so pitifully slain.”

It is evident that the above particulars are given by Aubrey from

[Illustration]

the celebrated book, written by Parsons the Jesuit, entitled
“Leicester’s Commonwealth;” but “he has omitted,” says Warner, “several
curious circumstances respecting the attempt to poison the unhappy lady,
which throw some light on the practices of the time, and the diabolical
character of the Earl.” The book consists of a dialogue between a
scholar, a gentleman, and a lawyer:--“_Lawyer._ Here the lawyer began to
laugh a-pace, both at the device and at the minister; and said, ‘Now,
truly, if my Lord’s contracts hold no better, but hath so many
infirmities with subtleties, and by places besides, I would be loth that
he were married to my daughter, mean as she is.’ ‘But yet,’ quoth the
gentleman, ‘I had rather of the two be his wife, for the time, than his
_guest_, especially if the Italian chirurgeon, or physician,[206] be at
hand.’ ‘True it is,’ saith the lawyer; ‘for he doth not poison his
wives, whereof I somewhat marvel at his first wife: I muse why he chose
rather to make her away by open violence than by some Italian
comfortive.’ ‘Hereof,’ said the gentleman, ‘may be divers reasons
alleged. First: that he was not at that time so skilful in those Italian
wares, nor had about him so fit physicians and chirurgeons for the
purpose; nor yet do I think that his mind was so settled then in
mischief, as it hath been since; for you know that men are not desperate
the first day, but do enter into mischief by degrees, and with some
doubt, or staggering of conscience, at the beginning; and so he, at that
time, might be desirous to have his wife made away with, for that she
letted him in his designments, but yet not so strong-hearted as to
appoint out the particular manner of her death, but rather to leave that
to the discretion of the murderer. Secondly: it is not, also, unlike
that he perscribed to Sir Richard Varney, at his going thither, that he
should first attempt to kill her by poison, and if that took not place,
then by any other way howsoever to despatch her. This I prove by the
report of old Dr. Bayly, who then lived in Oxford--another manner of man
than he who now liveth about my lord of the same name--and was professor
of the physic lecture in the same university. This learned grave man
reported for most certain, that there was a practice in Cumnor, among
the conspirators, to have poisoned the poor lady a little before she was
killed, which was attempted in this order: they, seeing the good lady
sad and heavy--as one that well knew, by her other handling, that her
death was not far off--began to persuade her that her disease was
abundance of melancholy and other humours, and therefore would needs
counsel her to take some potion; which she absolutely refusing to do, as
suspecting still the worst, they sent one day--unawares to her--for Dr.
Bayly, and desired him to persuade her to take some little potion at his
hands, and they would send to fetch the same at Oxford, upon his
prescription, meaning to have added, also, somewhat of their own for her
comfort, as the doctor, upon just cause, suspected. Seeing their great
importunity, and the small need which the good lady had of physic,
therefore he flatly denied their request; misdoubting, as he afterwards
reported, lest, if they had poisoned her under the name of _his_ potion,
he might have been hanged for a colour of _their_ sin. Marry, the said
doctor remained well assured that this way taking no place, she should
not long escape violence, as after ensued.”--Sec. Mem.

[Illustration]

<g>In taking</g> leave of <g>Kenilworth</g>, one cannot but regret with Fuller that so
splendid a structure should have passed so rapidly into a mass of ruins;
and that, not by the slow waste of time--not by the frequency of siege,
nor the severity of tempests,--but by the wanton hand of aggression. “I
am not stocked with charity,” says this quaint writer, “to pity the
miners thereof, if the materials of this castle answered not their
expectation who destroyed it. Some castles,” he adds, “have been
demolished for security, which I behold destroyed, ‘se defendendo,’
without offence; others demolished in the heat of wars, which I look
upon as Castle Slaughter: but I cannot excuse the destruction of this
<g>Castle</g> from wilful murder, being done in cold blood since the end of the
wars.”

    “Hark! ’twas a stone that from yon turret top
     Dropp’d heavily upon the sod below.
     These falling fragments of departed strength,
     These mouldering masses, make one feel ashamed
     That earthly grandeur has so little power
     To hand her greatness down to future times.”

<g>Summary.</g>--Consulting the ground-plan of Kenilworth, we find that the
dungeons lay at the western extremity of the castle, the part which is
now most ruinous. They were situated under Mervyn’s Tower--a sallyport
of the castle, and which we apprehend formed, with Cæsar’s Tower, the
substance of the original fortress--probably Saxon. This portion of the
ruins we examined, but found it a mere shapeless heap, with some
indications of strong vaultings, sufficient to justify the belief of
their having been places of confinement in the ruder and more warlike
days of the Barony. Kenilworth, in the absence of additions absolutely
modern, affords specimens of the architecture of more various periods
than most English castles. <g>The Keep</g>, <g>or Cæsar’s Tower</g> (p. 214),
corresponds in some important points with the recognized specimens of
Saxon building extant at Bamborough, showing the same narrow buttresses
traversing the entire elevation; and a window remaining on the eastern
face of the Keep, narrow, with a circular arch, and diminishing inward
to a mere slit, is of a corresponding time. Supposing the body of the
Keep to date before the Norman Conquest, we take the wings to be of
Norman addition, from their being similar to the castle at
Newcastle-on-Tyne, built immediately after the Conquest. Some portions
on the western side indicate additions made about the time of Edward the
Third, by John of Gaunt, and called Lancaster’s Building (p. 224); some
of the windows of the great Hall (p. 220-222) are beautiful examples of
this period. Near this quarter, on the south-western angle of the group,
are some turrets constructed so as to be defended by three archers back
to back, the loopholes extending outwards, and giving them the means of
annoying an invading party under a sufficient cover. In Leicester
Buildings (p. 231) are some elegant remains, particularly a superb
oriel; and in this part are the details of a very delicate and elaborate
style.

The Gate-House (p. 232) is comparatively recent; and some tall gabled
puritanic-looking dwellings patched upon it, in an ungainly fashion, may
from their aspect have been the work of those commissioners of the
Parliament who made such havoc upon the venerable pile committed to
their charge.--MS. Notes, A. May, 1842.

<g>Environs.</g>--The <g>Priory</g> of Kenilworth--of which our notice must be very
brief (p. 215)--originally occupied a considerable space, which is
indicated

[Illustration]

by the remains of foundations, a perfect portion of which--the base of
the Chapter House--was exposed by the sexton while digging in the
churchyard. This has been cleared, and exhibits the base of an octagonal
building with buttresses, adjacent to which is the burialplace of the
Priors, which has probably been a cloister: the graves are marked by
stone slabs bearing a curious variety of sculptured crosses. The
remaining portions of the Priory are all of the early pointed style,
with the exception of the Chapel, which evinces, by the peculiar
construction of the window, a very early period. The roof of the Chapel
has been richly decorated with projecting heads sculptured in a good
style; one of these lies in the interior of the Priory Gate-House. The
parish <g>Church</g> immediately adjacent to the Priory, has a
richly-ornamented circular door, and in the tower a pleasing chime of
bells, one of which, originally belonging to the Priory, retains its
monastic habit of duly chiming the matins and ‘curfew.’ The writer was
much struck with the effect of the former, on waking early on the first
morning of his sojourn in Kenilworth, and making inquiry of the sexton
in the course of the day, was informed that it was one of his functions
to announce the dawn and sunset in this manner daily throughout the
year.--From MS. Notes by an eminent Artist, communicated to the Editor.

The <g>Town</g> of Kenilworth, in addition to the few particulars which will be
found scattered through the preceding pages, has nothing of paramount
interest for the stranger. It extends along the post-road for nearly a
mile, and contains various schools (liberally supported), almshouses,
and other charities, which reflect the greatest credit on their founders
and patrons. The population is considerably upwards of three thousand,
but with very little trade. The parish church contains a splendid window
of modern stained glass, contributed by the late Bishop of Lichfield
when Master of Shrewsbury School, and finished under the direction of
Mr. David Evans of that city. The <g>Bridge</g>, consisting of two spacious
arches, and commanding a fine view of the striking objects around, is
highly ornamental to the place.

[Illustration]


APPENDIX.

_Description of the Plan of the Castle, page 243, as it appeared at the
Queen’s visit in 1575._

                             Described at Page
1. Cæsar’s Tower, Kenilworth               214
2. Lancaster Buildings                     224
3. Leicester Buildings                     231
4. Base Court, or outer ballium         239-40
5. Lake                                    ib.
6. Chase                                   ib.
7. Gallery Tower                           227
8. Tilt-Yard                               ib.
9. Mortimer’s Tower                        ib.
10. King Henry VIII.’s Lodgings            229
11. Inner Court                            ib.
12. The Strong, or Mervyn’s Tower          226
13. Kitchens                               228
14. Pleasance                              229
15. Great Hall                             220
16. Leicester’s Chamber fronting the Lake  231
17. Gardens                                227
18. Orchard                                ib.
19. Swan Tower                             229
20. Great Gateway                   231-2, 257
21. Lunn’s Tower                           235
22. Water Tower                            ib.
23. St. Lowe Tower adjoins Mervyn’s Tower,
S. W., and is not seen in this point.

Page 245, “append.” The reader is here referred to Melvin’s account of
Elizabeth.

(1) The <g>Leicester Chimney-Piece</g>, introduced at page 237. This
justly-admired specimen of art is of alabaster, finely sculptured with
bears and rugged staves, and the monograms of Queen Elizabeth and the
Earl of Leicester. When freshly gilded, and placed in a becoming
situation, it justly deserved, says a writer of taste, to be eulogized
as a work of decided skill and merit. Having happily escaped the
Cromwellian devastation, this mantel-piece, together with the oaken
pillars which surmount it (Wyld), were removed from one of the principal
apartments or presence-chamber of Leicester Buildings, to the room which
they now occupy--an oak-pannelled chamber in the old Gate-House. (2) The
view introduced at page 253 represents--along with the Tower in the deep
shadows of evening--a view of all that remains of the ancient moat on
that side of the building. (3) The cut, page 256, is an allegorical
subject of Leicester and Amy Robsart--the <g>Dove and Snake</g>,--or Innocence
and Subtlety.

     AUTHORITIES:--Camd.--Dugd.--Early
     Chronicles.--Strutt.--Spelman.--Harris.--Warner’s Illustr. Crit.
     and Hist.--Lodge’s Mem.--Brewer’s Hist. of Warw.--Monast. and
     Baron.--Monum. Vetusta.--Speed--Harding--Grafton--Holinshed--Secr.
     Mem. of Dudley--Parsons--Melvin--Pict. Hist.--Clarendon--Illustr.
     of Kenilw.--Guides and Topograph.--Sir W. Scott’s Notes.--Memoirs
     of Dudley Fam.--Annal. Elizab.--MS. Notes.--Collins’ P.--Civil and
     Milit. Trans. 1570-80--etc. etc.

[Illustration: WALTHAM ABBEY.]




[Illustration]




WALTHAM ABBEY.

    “Ki ke volt çeo saver,
     A Walteham, ultre le halt auter,
     Meimes cel croiz purra trover,
     E roi Haraud gisant en quer.”--CONTINUATION OF WACE’S ‘BRUT.’


The Abbey of Waltham owes most of its celebrity to its connexion with
the last of the Anglo-Saxon monarchs. Our early forefathers were
distinguished by their attachment to the pleasures of the chase; and the
vast forest with which this district was covered must have been a
favourite resort of the East-Saxon kings, as it was, after the
subversion of their independence, of the thanes of Essex. One of these,
named Tovi or Thovi, who held the high office of _stallere_ (or steward)
in the household of Canute the Dane, built himself a hunting residence
in the rich meadows on the banks of the Lea, in the same neighbourhood
where King Alfred had drawn away the waters of that river in order to
cut off the retreat of the Danish fleet. This hunting-house was the
_weald-ham_, or residence in the wood, from which the town afterwards
received its name.

The “weald-ham” was a favourite residence of Earl Tovi, and was soon
surrounded with the houses and huts of his retainers, thus becoming
gradually a village, occupied, as we are informed in the early
half-legendary history of the place, by threescore and six householders.
The erection of a church followed as a matter of course: although the
monks of the Abbey afterwards built there published a wild legend--how a
cross, miraculously discovered on the summit of a hill in Somersetshire,
then called Lutegaresberi, but since known by the name of Montacute,
which was also the property of Tovi, was no less miraculously conveyed
to this spot, and gave to it the subsequent appellation of <g>Waltham Holy
Cross</g>.[207] Tovi (who was lord of “Enefeld, Edelmetone, Cetrehunt,
Mimmes (?), and of the barony which afterwards, under the Normans,
passed into the family of the Mandevilles”) placed in his church two
canons, endowed it with lands in Waltham, “Chenleuedene, Hyche, Lamhee,
Luketune, and Alwaretune,” and gave to it the sword with which he had
been first girt when he was made a knight. His wife Glitha, a very pious
woman, added to these gifts a crown or wreath of pure gold. Their son
Athelstan did not, however, inherit the virtues and wisdom of his
parents; for, shortly after their death, he lost the manor of Waltham,
which, with others in the neighbourhood, appears to have been forfeited
to the Crown. Edward the Confessor gave it to his brother-in-law Harold.

Harold appears to have received these lands with the avowed purpose of
founding a religious house, by which, while according to the
superstitious belief of that age, he was securing the salvation of his
own soul, he flattered the monastic prejudices of King Edward. In the
twelfth century, the monks of Waltham had also a legendary account of
this second foundation: they said that Earl Harold, on his return from
the conquest of the Welsh, was visited by a dangerous attack of
paralysis, which defied the skill of the physicians, until it was
miraculously cured by a visit to the Holy Cross.[208] From that moment,
it is pretended the Earl never relaxed in his attachment to Waltham: in
place of the small foundation of Tovi, he built a magnificent church;
and there are strong reasons for supposing that, in spite of his
patriotic feelings and his known hatred to foreigners, he employed
Norman artists and workmen. The Waltham writers of the twelfth century,
who saw Harold’s church in its original form, speak of it in the most
enthusiastic terms, and tell us how, under the hands of his builders,
the walls and columns rose up in lofty majesty, while the latter were
connected by numerous arches, and the walls supported a roof groined
within and protected by lead without.[209] The interior of the building
was covered with “plates of brass, gilt;” and the bases and capitals of
the columns, with the “bendings” of the arches, were ornamented with
sculpture.[210] It is now ascertained, that in early times the interior
of churches, and also of other buildings, was painted in bright colours,
and gilt: the gilding being probably executed on thin plates of metal
which were attached to the stone-work. This mode of ornamentation
afterwards gave place to elaborate sculpture and carving. The mouldering
remains of these buildings, although still imposing by their grandeur,
convey to us only a slight idea of the effect which they must have
produced when adorned with paintings and glittering with gold. The
<g>Interior</g> of Waltham Abbey Church, degraded and mutilated as its
ornaments and proportions are at the present day, conveys to our mind no
mean idea of the former splendour of Harold’s church, of which we can
hardly doubt that it forms a genuine portion. As we survey its rows of
massive columns, and compare them with the humble objects around, we
feel ourselves mentally carried back eight hundred years to the festive
scene which followed their erection. At the consecration of those walls,
were present, besides the founder Earl Harold, the last King and Queen
of the regal line of the Anglo-Saxons--Edward the Confessor, and the
fair and interesting Edith, with two archbishops--Stigand of Canterbury
and Aldred of York, eleven bishops (among whom the most

[Illustration]

eminent were Hereman of Salisbury, Leofric of Exeter, and Gyso of
Wells), eleven abbots of important monastic houses, and a great number
of princes and nobles. In their presence was read publicly the royal
charter, which is still preserved, and bears the signatures of the King
and Queen, Harold, the two archbishops, and the bishops, abbots, and
thanes, who were assisting at the ceremony. The feast on this occasion
lasted eight days; and the guests were not only served profusely, but
large vessels full of wine and mead were placed in the fields and public
roads, in order that even accidental passers-by might drink their full.

Harold increased the number of canons from two to twelve. By the charter
just mentioned, they were put in possession of the manors of
“Passefelda, Walde, Upminster, Walhfare, Pippedene, Alwaretune,
Wodeforda, Lambehithe, Nesingnan, Brickendune, Melnho, Alichsea,
Wormeleia, Nettleswelle, Hicche, Lukintone, and Westwaltham.” Portions
of these lands were assigned to each canon to supply him with food and
clothing, those of which the rents were applied to the latter purpose
being distinguished by the name of _scrud-land_, or _clothing-land_.
Westwaltham was appropriated to the dean, in addition to his share with
the rest. Each canon had also assigned to him fifteen acres in Waltham
of what were termed the Northlands, in order that they might not be
distressed by any accidental stoppage of their supply from the
out-farms. According to the directions of the founder, the canons of
Waltham received extremely liberal rations of food. The daily allowance
of each was two loaves of very white bread, and one of a coarser
quality, the three being sufficient for six men; six bowls of ale,
sufficient for ten men at one drinking bout; and six dishes of different
kinds each day. In addition to this allowance, on feast days they were
served with “pittances,” or delicacies: if it were a feast of the first
dignity, each canon was to have three pittances; if of the second
dignity, he was allowed two pittances; and if of the third dignity, one.
A pittance, from Michaelmas-day to Ash-Wednesday, consisted of twelve
blackbirds, or two “agauseæ,” or two partridges, or one pheasant; during
the rest of the year, it consisted of goose or chickens. On
Christmas-day, Easter-day, and the day of Pentecost, and on the two
feasts of the Holy Cross, wine and mead were allowed.[211] The object in
giving the canons this profuse allowance of provisions, was to provide
for strangers, and for the poor and needy, the latter receiving each day
what was sent away from the Abbey table. The dean had a larger share
than the others, because more persons depended upon his charity and
hospitality than upon those of a simple canon.[212] In former times,
when from the want of means of conveyance the produce of the land was
necessarily consumed on the land itself, hospitality of this kind was
universally practised. Even in the houses of private gentlemen there was
a servant named an almoner, whose office it was to collect and
distribute to the poor at his master’s gate what remained of the meat
and drink served at the table; and the person who distributed the bread
to the guests, laid the first loaf in the alms-dish as an offering to
God.

The consecration of the church of Waltham occurred a little before
Whitsuntide, in the year 1062: in less than four years after this event,
Harold was

[Illustration]

advanced to the throne of England. During his short but eventful reign,
he conferred innumerable benefits on the Abbey, which were remembered
with gratitude long after the destruction of the Anglo-Saxon dynasty. In
his return from the defeat of the Danish invaders in the north, to stop
the progress of his Norman rival, Harold visited Waltham for the last
time. The brotherhood received him with sorrowful countenances, for
their minds were filled with gloomy forebodings; and when, on the
morning of his departure, Harold humbled himself in prayer before the
Holy Cross, which was surrounded by the relics and precious gifts which
he had conferred, one of the canons, whose eyes were fixed on the image,
declared that the wooden face suddenly assumed an air of sadness, and
that he saw the head bend downwards. His brethren were struck with
consternation; and, unable to restrain the king from exposing his own
person in an unequal combat, they sent with him two of the elder canons,
named Osegode Cnoppe and Ailric Childemaister,[213] to watch the course
of events, and to bring home the body of their benefactor in case he
should be slain. The result of the battle of Hastings is too well known
to need repeating on the present occasion.

Much obscurity still hangs over Harold’s fate. The old historians not
only differ in various circumstances in their account of the manner in
which he was killed, but some of them have declared their belief that he
escaped from the field of battle with his life. Even the canons, and
afterwards the monks, of Waltham were divided in their opinions on this
subject; and each party consigned their reasons to writing, in separate
treatises, which were long treasured up in the Abbey library, and which
are fortunately still preserved. According to the most probable of these
two versions of the story, when Osegode and Ailric saw that their
presentiments had been but too well founded, they repaired to the
Conqueror to obtain permission to seek for Harold’s body, and to carry
it to Waltham for interment. With some difficulty they succeeded in
their suit; but, after a long and fruitless search, Osegode was sent
back to Waltham with the intelligence that they could find no traces of
their king among the multitude of naked and stiffening corpses with
which the field was strewed. By the advice of the other canons, Osegode
took with him to Hastings Harold’s beautiful mistress, Editha
Swanneshals (or Edith with the Swan’s neck), who recognized the body of
her lover by secret marks which were known only to herself. Osegode then
placed it on a bier which he had prepared for the purpose, and it was
carried in solemn procession to Battle Bridge, whither the whole
brotherhood of Waltham had come to meet it. They carried the corpse to
Waltham, and buried it with honour in the choir of the Abbey
Church.[214]

Those who held a contrary opinion concerning Harold’s fate, said that
Edith had mistaken another corpse for that of her paramour; and that the
body of Harold had been found among a heap of corpses by some Saxon
women, who visited the field to administer aid and comfort to their
wounded and expiring countrymen. Finding him still breathing, they
carried him away from the spot, ignorant that it was their king; but he
was recognized by two countrymen, who took him to Winchester, where he
remained in concealment two years. At the end of that period, having
entirely recovered from the effects of his wounds, he went to Germany,
in the hope of inducing the old Saxons and Norwegians to assist him in
the deliverance of his country from the oppressions of the Normans; but
failing in this project, and becoming weary of the vanities of the
world, he determined to pass the rest of his days in retirement, and he
first visited Rome. From thence he returned in disguise, under the
assumed name of Christian, to England, and lived ten years as a hermit,
with one faithful attendant, among the rocks in the neighbourhood of
Dover. He next repaired to the borders of Wales, where he lived long in
solitude, exposed to the insults of the Welsh, over whom he had so often
triumphed in the days of his worldly glory. He finally removed to
Chester, where he died at an advanced age in a little cell attached to
the church of St. John, having, according to the story, confessed on his
death-bed that he was King Harold.[215] Such is the improbable legend
which found credit with one or two of the most esteemed of our early
writers.

Waltham Abbey appears to have experienced little favour from the first
Anglo-Norman kings. William the Conqueror, or (according to other
accounts) his son Rufus, carried away much of the valuable plate, gems,
and rich vestments which had been given by Harold, to enrich his two
churches at Caen in Normandy; but he seems to have left the landed
possessions of the Abbey untouched.[216] As a sort of reparation for
this injury, William Rufus is said to have given to the canons those
lands of Harold in Waltham which his father had conferred upon Walcher,
bishop of Durham, who made this place his residence when he came to
attend the court at London. The two queens of Henry I. were almost the
sole benefactors of this foundation during the first century after the
Norman Conquest:--the first, Matilda of Scotland, gave to the secular
canons the mill at Waltham; while Adeliza of Lorraine, Henry’s second
wife, bestowed upon them all the tithes of Waltham, as well those of her
demesne lands as those of her tenants.

In the latter half of the twelfth century, the canons of Waltham
experienced the same fate which had already struck most of the similar
Anglo-Saxon institutions. As the power of the pope gained strength in
England, it had constantly brought with it the dissolution of the
ancient colleges of secular priests, to make way for the introduction of
the more rigid discipline of the regular monks, who were literally the
“soldiers” of papal Rome. It is probable that the secular canons of
Waltham had relaxed in discipline and religion since their foundation,
placed as they were amid the “fatness of the earth.” During the period
of which we are now speaking, we find among them few traces of learning
or literary taste, and the name of Waltham scarcely occurs in the
political history of the twelfth century. Yet the few remaining writings
of the monks of this place are full of vivid descriptions of the
richness and beauty of the Abbey lands.

    “O Waltham! pro te fecit manus Omnipotentis
      Multum in mentis, semper et hinc amo te.
     Nam dedit ipse tibi similem sibimetque figuram,
      Excelsam, puram, quæ veneratur ibi.

           *       *       *       *       *

     Tu ditaris ita, nam prata foves meliora;
      Stas inter nemora dite loco posita.
     Te cingit fluvius necnon percurrit amœnus,
      Piscibus et plenus: est situs egregius.
     Et licet orneris pratis latis et agellis,
      Structuris bellis, floribus et teneris.”[217]

So sang in quaint and jingling rhymes one of the historians of Waltham
in the reign of Henry II. The flower-decked meads which surrounded the
Abbey are not unfrequently alluded to; and that which has preserved to
modern times the name of Harold’s Park, was celebrated in a proverbial
leonine,--

     “Haroldi parca florum bene dicitur archa.”

[Illustration]

The numerous little streams into which the river is here divided added
to the richness and diversity of the scenery, and were crossed by a
number of picturesque bridges. In the time of Leland (the reign of Henry
VIII.) there were “a 7 or viii. bridges in the towne of Waltham: for
there be divers socours of streamelettes breking out of the thre
principalle partes of Luye ryver.” The ruins of <g>one of these little
Bridges</g> may still be seen over a “streamelette,” about two hundred yards
to the north-east of the Abbey, forming an extremely picturesque feature
in the landscape. It consists of an elliptical arch, supported or
strengthened by three strong ribs, and appears to be a work of
considerable antiquity.

The beauty of the scenery and the richness of the soil seem to have been
the chief delight of these pampered canons. They were accused (how
justly it is now difficult to decide) of luxurious living and great
relaxation of discipline; and their last dean, Guido Rufus, was
suspended from his office by Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, the
immediate successor of Thomas Becket. The king was at this time seeking
opportunities of appeasing the church of Rome for the murder of Becket,
and, influenced by the persuasions of the archbishop, he went to Waltham
on the eve of Pentecost, in the year 1177, and having expelled the
secular canons, he established in their place sixteen regular canons of
the order of St. Augustin, taken out of three of the older English
monasteries, namely, six from Cirencester, six from Oseney, and four
from Chiche. Walter de Gaunt, a canon of Oseney, was elected the first
Abbot of Waltham. The Abbey itself was declared, as formerly, free from
all episcopal jurisdiction; and a few years afterwards the abbot was
allowed the use of the pontificals, and Waltham was raised to the rank
of a mitred abbey. King Henry, judging, as he states in the charter,
that the church thus reformed, “as a new spouse of Christ, ought to have
a new dower,”[218] added to its former possessions the manors of
Siwardston and Epping.

From this period the Abbey of Waltham was, during several reigns, a
favourite resort of the English monarchs; and, separated by its woods
from the “busy hum” of the world around, it seems to have escaped the
troubles and turmoils of baronial strife. Henry’s son and successor, the
lion-hearted Richard, gave the monks a new charter, confirming all their
possessions and privileges; and by a separate charter he bestowed on the
church the whole of his manor of Waltham, with the great wood, and the
park called Harold’s Park, three hundred acres of assart land, the
market of Waltham, and the village of Nasing (a member of Waltham), with
three hundred and sixty acres of assart land there, for all which they
were to pay yearly to the king’s exchequer sixty pounds. King Richard
also gave them the manor of Copt Hall, which afterwards became a
favourite residence of the abbots. Henry III., who frequently visited
Waltham, was also a munificent benefactor; and among other favours he
granted them the privilege of holding a fair during seven days annually.
In this reign considerable alterations appear to have been made in the
buildings of the Abbey, The church was re-dedicated in the year 1242, by
the Bishop of Norwich, in the King’s presence;

[Illustration]

and it has been conjectured, that at that time was built Our Lady’s
Chapel on the south side of the present church: this chapel still
exists, although it has been long converted into a school-room. It has
been supposed also that the <g>Inner Porch</g>, under the present steeple, was
built about the end of this reign, or early in that of Edward I.

In spite of the royal favour and protection, the monks of Waltham were
engaged in several vexatious disputes during the reign of Henry III. The
kind of lordship which the abbot exercised over the town, the mode in
which the Abbey possessions and business became intermixed with those of
the townsmen, and the frequent and unavoidable clashing of their several
interests, led to much mutual ill-will. A great number of the townsmen
were tenants of the abbot. We still find in several parts of the town
some remains of the old houses on the Abbey domain, particularly those
standing in what is called <g>Baker’s Entry</g>, which have an appearance of
great antiquity. But the most serious disputes arose out of the
contending claims to rights connected with the common lands.[219] Simon
de Seham was elected Abbot of Waltham in 1248; and the same year the
townsmen went in a riotous manner into the marsh, where they claimed
rights in opposition to those enjoyed by the abbot, and killed four of
the abbot’s mares, worth at least forty shillings sterling, and drove
away the rest. Simon de Seham allowed this act of violence to pass
without punishment; but when the men of Waltham came to him the year
following, on the Tuesday before Easter, and summoned him to remove his
mares and colts out of the marsh, he refused to listen to them, and
deferred the matter till the Tuesday after Easter. On that day the men
and women of the town assembled tumultuously at the Abbey gate to
receive the abbot’s answer; but he again deferred the matter to a
further day, stating in excuse that he had been busily occupied in
preparing for a journey into Lincolnshire to meet the justices
itinerant. Then the townspeople reviled the abbot in presence of
Richard, Earl of Cornwall, the king’s brother, who had come to Waltham
Abbey the same day; and, hastening to the marsh, they drove away the
abbot’s mares and colts--drowning three, valued at twenty shillings;
spoiling ten more, worth ten marks; and beating the keepers who resisted
them, even to the shedding of blood. On the abbot’s return from
Lincolnshire, the people of Waltham, apprehensive of the consequences of
their violent proceedings, desired a love-day to settle the dispute; but
suddenly changing their minds, they went to the king at London, and made
a complaint against the abbot, that he was infringing their rights,
introducing new customs, and, as they expressed it, that he was “eating
them up to the bones.” The abbot, in retaliation, excommunicated them;
and they impleaded him at the common law. After many hearings, the
abbot, as the stronger party, gained the cause; and the people of
Waltham were obliged to acknowledge that they had done him wrong, and
they were fined twenty marks; but, on their submission, he remitted the
fine, and relieved them from the sentence of excommunication.[220]

[Illustration]

In the same reign, the abbot of Waltham became involved in a lawsuit
with the lord of the neighbouring manor of Cheshunt, who was, at that
time, Peter Duke of Savoy, the king’s uncle, and therefore a powerful
opponent. Both parties laid claim to certain meadow lands which lay
between two branches of the river Lea, one asserting that the eastern
stream, the other that the western stream, was the boundary line between
their respective estates. After an obstinate dispute, the lord of
Cheshunt agreed to yield up his claim to the abbot; but these meadows
were frequently afterwards a subject of litigation. A new lawsuit was
begun in the time of the last abbot of Waltham; and the question
remained undecided when the Abbey was surrendered to King Henry VIII.

Until the reign of this monarch, Waltham continued to receive frequent
visits from the English kings, who are said to have possessed a small
house within the parish, at a spot known in more recent times by the
name of <g>Romeland</g>, where occasionally they sought pleasure and
retirement. Richard II. was residing here at the time of Wat Tyler’s
insurrection. It was also a favourite retreat of King Henry VIII.; and
Fuller has preserved a traditionary anecdote relating to one of Henry’s
visits, which (though a similar story has been told of other kings in
like circumstances) loses nothing by being repeated. The king was one
day hunting in the forest; and, wandering from his companions, he came
to the Abbey, about dinner-time, in the disguise of one of his own
guard. He was immediately invited to the abbot’s table, and a sirloin of
beef was placed before him. The king was hungry, and ate very heartily,
to the great admiration of the abbot, whose pampered stomach had been
spoilt by the good fare of his house. “Well fare thy heart!” he said to
his guest: “here is a cup of sack, and remember the health of his Grace
thy master. I would willingly give a hundred pounds on condition that I
could feed as heartily on beef as thou dost. Alas! my weak stomach will
hardly digest a wing of a small rabbit or chicken.” The king pledged his
host, and then, thanking him for his hospitality, departed as secretly
as he had arrived. Shortly afterwards, a pursuivant suddenly made his
appearance at Waltham; and, to the consternation of the whole
fraternity, the abbot was carried to London, and committed a close
prisoner to the Tower, where he was kept for some days strictly confined
to a diet of bread and water. The severity of his imprisonment was then
as suddenly relaxed, and a sirloin of beef was set before him, on which,
to use the quaint expression of the old narrator of this story, “he fed
as heartily as a farmer of his own grange.” The king immediately entered
from a small lobby, where he had been looking on unobserved, and
demanded of his prisoner a hundred pounds, the sum promised to him who
should restore his lost appetite, which the abbot paid immediately, and
lost no time in returning again to enjoy the good cheer of his own
refectory.

We can trace, but with uncertainty, the progress of destruction with
which this noble building was visited after its <g>Dissolution</g>. Part of the
church, with the offices and other parts of the Abbey, were probably
demolished for the sake of the materials, the nave only being reserved
to the people of Waltham to serve as a parish church. The commissioners
were so unscrupulous in their plunder, that they even offered for sale
the five bells in the steeple, which, however, were purchased by the
parishioners. In the old books of the churchwardens, we find, under the
date 1544, the item, “Received of Adam Tanner the overplus of the money
which was gathered for the purchase of the bells, two pound four
shillings and eleven-pence.” The ancient steeple stood in the middle of
the church: it had been left in so dangerous a condition, that it was
found necessary to take down the bells as soon as purchased, and to
erect for them a wooden belfrey at the south-east end of the churchyard,
where there stood formerly two yew-trees. A few years afterwards, in the
beginning of the reign of Queen Mary, the steeple fell down: in 1556,
there is an entry in the parish books, “For coles to undermine a piece
of the steeple which stood after the first fall, two shillings.” The
parishioners immediately began to build the present <g>Steeple</g>, at the west
end of the church, at a very considerable expense, which was furnished
from the money they had collected by the sale of the old church
furniture, by subscriptions for the occasion, and by the sale of
materials from the ruins of the Abbey; and, to finish it, they were at
last obliged to sell the bells which they had before patriotically
rescued from the fate that had absorbed so much of the rich plate and
furniture of the Abbey. Several of the entries in the parish books at
this time show us how the work of demolition was gradually proceeding.
In 1558, at the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth, the sum of three
shillings and two-pence was paid for taking down the rood-loft. In 1562,
there was “paid for a bay nagge, given to Mr. Henry Denny for the Abbey
wall, three pound seventeen shillings.” “Item, to labourers which did
undermine the said wall, forty-nine shillings and nine-pence.” This
Abbey wall was a building which extended eastward beyond the old
steeple; and the churchwardens for some years afterwards carried on a
great trade in the sale of lead, stone, and timber taken from it.[221]
In 1563, “for the old timber in the little vestiary of St. George’s
Chapel, fifteen shillings.” All memory of the site of this chapel
appears to be long lost. In the same year, “for taking down the stairs
in the Abbey, seven shillings eight-pence;” and “for taking down the
lead from the charnel-house, and covering the steeple, eighteen
shillings.”

In 1547, King Edward VI. made a grant of the conventual estate of
Waltham, for thirty-one years, to Sir Anthony Denny, one of the
executors of Henry VIII., who dying soon afterwards, the reversion in
fee was purchased by his widow. Their grandson, Sir Edward Denny, was
created Baron of Waltham by King James I., and Earl of Norwich by King
Charles I. From him the estate passed by marriage to James Hay, Earl of
Carlisle; and it subsequently came into the possession of the family of
Wake.

The Abbey of Waltham, when entire, was very extensive, including within
its walls many acres of ground. The remains of the <g>Entrance Gateway</g>,
approached by an old bridge, stand at some distance to the north of the
church. This gateway is of stone, repaired with large bricks, and
consists of a larger and a smaller pointed arch, with delicate
mouldings; the exterior mouldings springing from figures of angels,
which support shields containing the royal arms of England as they were
drawn in the reign of Edward III. which appears to be the date of this
part of the building. This gateway

[Illustration]

and the church are all that now remain standing of this once noble
edifice.[222] The present parish church is formed of the nave of the
ancient church, which had the form of a cross. The choir, which was a
continuation of the present building towards the east, with the two
transepts, and the Lady Chapel, appear to have been demolished
immediately after the dissolution of the Abbey. The steeple stood at the
intersection of the choir and nave with the transepts; and it appears to
have fallen spontaneously a few years after the transepts and choir were
taken down. By that accident, the nave was left open at the east end,
and it was built up with modern masonry, which, mixed with the old
circular arches and windows of the original building, and with the two
great western supports of the steeple which are still visible, give to
this part of the church externally a singularly dilapidated appearance.

The <g>Choir</g> appears to have been very extensive; for the site of <g>Harold’s
Tomb</g>, which we know was in that part of the church, perhaps near the
high altar where the <g>Holy Cross</g> stood, is still pointed out by tradition
at a spot about forty yards to the east of the present church. This
choir was probably built in the reign of Henry II., when that monarch
changed the character of Harold’s foundation. At that period the relics
of King Harold were translated thither from a former tomb; and the
author of the treatise ‘De Inventione Sanctæ Crucis Walthamensis,’ who
wrote in the latter part of the twelfth century, assures us that he was
present on that occasion, and that he saw the wounds on Harold’s
body.[223] Fuller, speaking from tradition, says that the sepulchre of
Harold was a plain tomb of grey marble, supported by “pillarets,” with a
“sort of cross fleury” sculptured upon it; and he asserts that he had
one of its pedestals in his own possession. Farmer, in his History of
Waltham Abbey, has given an engraving of a mask, which, he says,
(probably without any good reason,) was one of the ornaments of the same
tomb. It is equally improbable, that the coffin discovered in the latter
end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, by a gardener in the service of Sir
Edward Denny, was that which contained the body of the martyr of
Hastings.[224] Fuller, writing in the time of the Commonwealth, says
that “a picture of King Harold in glass was lately to be seen in the
north window of the church, till ten years since some barbarous hand
beat it down under the notion of superstition.” About half a century ago
another coffin was found near the same spot, containing an entire
skeleton enclosed in lead. Many persons of distinction appear to have
been buried at Waltham; among them are mentioned the names of Hugh
Nevil, protho-forester of England, who, dying in 1222, was interred here
under a noble engraved marble sepulchre; of his son John Nevil; and of
Robert Passelew, archdeacon of Lewes, one of the favourites of Henry
III.

[Illustration]

A very elegant pointed arch, now forming the entrance from the tower to
the interior of the church, of which we have given a representation on a
preceding page, appears to be of the reign of Henry III.; the defects
observed in the upper part of its ornaments were caused by some
barbarous hand, which cut away part of the sculptured stone, in order to
introduce a new erection, with which the workman appears to have
proceeded no farther. The <g>Principal Entrance</g>, which is also an elegant
sharply-pointed arch, is supposed to date from the reign of Edward III.
At the south-east extremity of the present building is a chapel, which
bears evident marks of the age of the Tudors, although much defaced and
altered. Nearly the whole of the church itself, with the exception of
the modern alterations which it has undergone, is the erection of King
Harold, and formed perhaps the principal part of the church as he left
it. The interior, which in modern times has been miserably disfigured by
thick coats of plaster and whitewash, possesses still an appearance of
solemn grandeur, although its groined roof has been taken down, and its
place supplied by a lower flat ceiling. The close resemblance between
this interior and the interior of the nave of Durham Cathedral (built a
few years after the Conquest) has frequently been noticed. The body of
the nave is separated from the side aisles by two rows of large and
massive cylindrical pillars, ornamented with spiral and zig-zag grooves,
like the similar pillars in the nave at Durham. These pillars support
large circular arches, with zig-zag mouldings. Above these on each side
is a second row of large arches, supported by short columns; and above
these is a third series of treble arches, each consisting of one large
arch, with a smaller one on each side. These latter front the principal
windows by which the interior of the church is lighted. In the second or
middle tier of arches there were once central columns, with arched
mouldings, dividing each of the large arches into two. Between each
series of arches a three-quarter pilaster moulding rises to the ceiling,
and appears formerly to have sustained the groined roof. Two of the
circular arches of the lower row have been altered, probably at the time

[Illustration]

when the present steeple was erected, to pointed arches, and carried up
to the string course of the clerestory. The only remnant of the
furniture and utensils of this old church is its ancient <g>Font</g>. The east
end of the nave has been railed in to form a chancel. The whole length
of the nave is a hundred and six feet; and its breadth fifty-three feet,
including the aisles. The interior height is at present forty-six feet.
The most interesting monument in Waltham Abbey Church is that of Sir
Edward Denny and his lady, which is situated near the eastern extremity
of the south aisle. Near the altar rails is a defaced grey slab, which
once bore a mitred figure, probably one of the abbots.

The steeple is a massive square tower, eighty-six feet high, embattled,
and supported by strong buttresses. It was erected, as has been already
stated, during the reign of Queen Mary, at the expense of the
parishioners. It appears from the parish books that for the first
fifty-three feet the expense of building, independent of the materials,
was 33_s._ 4_d._ a foot, and that the upper part cost 40_s._ a foot, the
difference arising probably from the increase in the value of labour in
the reign of Elizabeth, when the tower was completed. The principal
modern alterations in this church appear to have been made between the
years 1668 and 1680.[225]

The out-buildings attached to the church are on the <g>South Side</g>. They
consist of a vestry and school-room, occupying what was formerly the
Lady Chapel. This has been so much modernized, that very little of the
original building can now be seen. It appears that a large portion of
the money expended on reparations in the latter part of the seventeenth
century was applied to the building and furnishing of the school-room.
Underneath this

[Illustration]

building is a crypt, curiously groined, which is now used as a
charnel-house. This Lady Chapel, from the style of what remains of the
original architecture, and the ornamental <g>Buttresses</g> which still exist,
has been supposed to be as old as the time of Henry III.

Waltham Abbey can boast of fewer learned men than most of the old
monastic houses. Fuller mentions Roger de Waltham, canon of St. Paul’s,
a writer in the thirteenth century, and John de Waltham, keeper of the
privy seal to King Richard II. The same historian places Robert Fuller,
the last abbot of Waltham, among the literary men of that house, because
he had written a history of his abbey, which Thomas Fuller professes to
have consulted: it is probable, however, that this “history” was nothing
more than the register of charters and other deeds of the abbey, still
preserved in the Harleian Library, which would reduce Abbot Fuller’s
claim to literary honours within very modest limits. It was from a deed
of Abbot Fuller, that Farmer gave one <g>Coat of Arms</g> belonging to this
abbey, which is _gules_, two angels _or_, flying with their wings
extended, with their hands holding between them a cross _argent_. A
different coat (which is represented in a former cut) is given by Fuller
the historian, along with the arms of the other mitred abbeys. At the
time of its surrender in 1539, Waltham was one of the richest abbeys in
the kingdom, the gross amount of its revenues being, according to
Speed, nearly eleven hundred pounds a-year: according to the Monasticon,
the clear income was nine hundred pounds.

[Illustration]

The Abbey of Waltham, as we have before stated, makes no great figure in
history after the Norman Conquest. An early collection of narratives of
miracles supposed to have been performed by the virtues of the <g>Holy
Cross</g>, furnishes us with some curious details of the misfortunes which
befel the town and church in the days of King Stephen.[226] At that
turbulent period, when every man was at war with his next neighbour, and
which is naïvely characterized in the legends referred to as being
_seditionis tempore_, the town of Waltham, as part of the dower of
Adeliza, Queen of Henry I., belonged to her second husband, William de
Albini, Earl of Arundel, between whom and the outlawed baron, Geoffrey
de Mandeville, a deadly feud had arisen. We shall probably have another
occasion to speak at large of the exploits of Geoffrey de Mandeville.
One day he brought or sent to Waltham a body of his Flemish auxiliaries,
who set fire to the town, and the flames spreading quickly, communicated
with the houses of the canons. In the midst of the confusion, the
invaders penetrated to the church, where the town’s-people had deposited
the most valuable part of their effects. The canons, who appear to have
considered themselves entitled to the special protection of Geoffrey de
Mandeville (as Earl of Essex), after vain endeavours to prevail with his
men by fair words to desist from their enterprise, had recourse to what
was then looked upon as a last and desperate expedient--they dragged
from its place above the altar the Holy Cross, which was supposed to
spread its protection over the neighbourhood, and threw it upon the
floor: and it was handed down as a tradition of the place, that in the
very hour of the throwing down of the Cross, Geoffrey de Mandeville
received his death-wound at the siege of Burwell. The canons of Waltham
boasted that their church was rescued from the rage of the plunderers by
divine interposition; and that five Flemings, who had already filled
their sacks with precious articles, were thrown miraculously into such a
state of mental confusion that they could not find their way out of the
church, but remained wandering among the boxes and packages with which
the interior of the church was encumbered, until they were taken by the
townsmen on their return from the pursuit of their enemies, whom they
had driven away. The canons now rescued the offenders from the vengeance
of the people of Waltham, and, after having administered to them the
monastic discipline, namely, a severe flogging, they set them at
liberty. One of their leaders, named Humphrey de Barentone, who,
entering the church on horseback, had been active in inciting the
Flemings to plunder and violence, is said to have been struck with
madness (perhaps with paralysis) as he was leaving the town: he was
carried back to the church, and died within three days; but not till he
had repented and made some compensation to the church of Waltham, by
giving to it fourteen acres of land in ‘Luchentuna.’

<g>Environs.</g>--The neighbourhood of Waltham presents a few historical sites,
and some interesting localities. The river <g>Lea</g> was the scene of Isaac
Walton’s piscatory rambles. It is now chiefly remarkable as giving
motion to a number of powder-mills. The neighbouring hamlet of <g>Waltham
Cross</g> contains one of the few that remain of the crosses erected by
Edward I., in memory of his beloved queen Eleanor. To the south of
Waltham is Enfield Chase; and a short distance to the west is the site
of the Palace of <g>Theobald</g>. To the north may still be seen the mouldering
ruins of the Nunnery of <g>Cheshunt</g>, said to have been founded in the reign
of Henry III.

There is still a vague legendary tradition of a subterranean
communication between the Abbey of Waltham and Cheshunt Nunnery. But the
monks of the former house, who are accused of having sought comfort
among the gentle occupants of the latter for the troubles and vexations
they received from the litigious lords of the manor, appear to have
sought no such hidden road by which to pay their visits to the nunnery.
The tales which continued to be current in the time of Fuller, show that
there must have been some ground for the scandal. The following story
has found a place in the “Church History:”--

“One Sir Henry Colt, of Nether Hall in Essex, much in favour with King
Henry VIII. for ‘his merry conceits,’ came to Waltham late at night,
being informed by spies that the monks were on a visit at Cheshunt
Nunnery. In order to intercept them on their return, he pitched a
buckstall (which was used to take deer in the forest) in the narrowest
place in the marsh, where he knew the monks must pass, and placed some
of his confederates to watch it. The monks, as was expected, ran all
into the net; where they were secured till next morning, when Sir Henry
Colt brought the king to show him his game. The merry monarch is said to
have burst into a loud fit of laughter, and to have declared that,
‘although he had often seen sweeter, he had never seen fatter venison.’”

     AUTHORITIES.--Michel, Chroniques Anglo-Normandes.--The Legend De
     Invent. Sanct. Crucis Walthamensis, MS. Harl. 3776.--Miracles of
     the Holy Cross, MS. Cotton Julius, D. VI.--Fuller.--Farmer’s
     History of Waltham Abbey, Lond. 1735.--Wace’s Chronicle of the
     Norman Conquest.--Leland, &c.

[Illustration: CARISBROOKE CASTLE,

_ISLE OF WIGHT._]




[Illustration]




CARISBROOKE CASTLE,

<g>Isle of Wight</g>.

    When as the pliant Muse, with plain and easy flight
    Betwixt her silver wings is wafted to the <g>Wight</g>,
    That isle which jutteth out into the sea so farre,
    Her offspring traineth up in exercise of warre.
    Of all the southern isles she holds the highest place,
    And th’ greatest coronal hath been in Britain’s grace.--POLYOLBION.


<g>Among</g> the Anglo-Norman fortresses which so long upheld the feudal power,
and maintained the independence of the British Islands, that of
Carisbrooke holds a distinguished place. Crowning an elevated position
near the centre of the island,--of which it has been for ages the
ornament and safeguard,--and from its keep and battlements commanding
every approach, it had all the advantages which the necessities and
warlike spirit of the times could demand. It appears to have been
selected as a post of defence from the remotest period of the Saxon
monarchy, of which it still retains many substantial vestiges; and
although nothing has been discovered that connects it by positive
evidence with the Roman epoch, there can be no reasonable doubt of its
having been one of the numerous military stations occupied by that
people for the vigorous maintenance of its power.

At last, after the lapse of four centuries, the sway of the Cæsars began
to wax faint; and when the victorious legions were finally withdrawn
from the British shores, the natives, taking advantage of the strong
places which had previously kept them in awe, seized them to their own
use, and over the Roman substruction erected, after their own manner,
the bulwarks of native strength and independence. Of this the keep, or
donjon, hereafter to be noticed, presents clear and distinct evidence;
but whether comprised in the fifty castles reconstructed by
Alfred--under the circumstances already stated in this work--remains
uncertain. From the localities, however, and other particulars which
distinguished the castles so built or repaired on Roman foundations, it
appears highly probable that Carisbrooke owes its preservation to that
wise and patriotic monarch. Continually harassed by foreign marauders
who infested these narrow seas, he found no measure so effectual as that
of erecting castles and garrisoned forts on all those points of the
coast most exposed to their piratical fury. But after the death of this
monarch, and the conflicting policy which, during a century and a half,
prepared the way for Norman supremacy, the national bulwarks had
suffered from neglect; they were mostly ungarrisoned, and nearly all so
much dilapidated that they could offer no effectual resistance against
an invading enemy--a fact which readily accounts for the easy conquest
which awaited the Norman army on its first landing on the coast of
Sussex.

After the battle of Hastings, the Conqueror, with that characteristic
policy which marked his actions, adopted every measure for the
consolidation of his authority, by portioning out to his martial
followers the domestic strongholds and landed possessions of the
vanquished and proscribed natives. Of the Norman barons who then shared
the profuse liberality of their leader, we have mentioned several
instances in the course of the present work. But among the chief men who
owed him fealty, and whose friendship and faithful services it was
important to conciliate by rewards for the past, and the prospect of
others in future, none came in for a more enviable share of his favour
than his near kinsman,

<g>William Fitz-Osborne.</g>--This warlike Norman had accompanied his Chief in
the expedition to England; and, among the brilliant circle of martial
attendants who had espoused his cause, stood eminently distinguished for
his talents and experience. He had the entire confidence of his
sovereign; and at the battle of Hastings, where Roger Montgomery had
also a high

[Illustration]

command, performed the honourable and arduous duties of marshal of the
army. Recommended to the Conqueror by the ties of blood, as well as by
the high military talents which he had displayed in the field, he
receiving a grant of the Isle of Wight,--“Ita, Gulielmus Filius Osborni,
<g>Veetam Insulam</g> conquisivit, primusque Vectæ Dominus erat.” He was made
constable of the newly-erected Castles of Winchester and York, and
installed in the high office of Chief Justiciary for the King in the
north. In the exercise of his new authority as Lord of Wight, he appears
to have acted towards the old inhabitants with a rigour and
exclusiveness which strongly evinced his distrust of their professed
attachment to the foreign dynasty. Proceeding to the very extreme of the
feudal despotism with which he had been so recently invested, he
expelled the native inhabitants, divided their possessions among his
Norman followers and retainers, and, reconstructing the ancient fortress
of Carisbrooke, surrounded himself with a host of martial adherents, who
held their new possessions on condition of military service to the
chief, wheresoever and whensoever it should be required.

Having had the first grant of the Isle of Wight from the Conqueror, “to
be held as freely as he himself held the kingdom of England,”
Fitz-Osborne instituted the Knights’ Court, which was one of the
privileges enjoyed by him as lord of the island, namely, that of holding
a judicial tribunal called “Curia Militum,” from the judges being such
as held a knight’s fee from the lord of the island, who “gave judgment
as courts of equity without a jury.”

To this powerful Baron the whole of the Norman work now remaining in the
Castle of Carisbrooke may be attributed. In Domesday Book he is called
William Fitz-Osborne, Earl of Hereford--a name familiar in the pages of
our early history. But his enterprising career was cut short by the
casualties of war, when he had been scarcely four years in possession of
the island; for, being sent by the Queen to support Ernulf, Count of
Hainault, who was then enforcing his family claim to the earldom of
Flanders, both she and the count were slain in battle. Dugdale is of
opinion that he adopted this quarrel from the relationship which
subsisted between that nobleman and himself--he having married for his
second wife Rechildis, the mother of Count Ernulf, the Queen’s nephew.
His remains were interred with great ceremony in the Abbey of
Cormeilles, which he had founded, and in which one of his sons had
previously become a monk. Bequeathing his Norman possessions to his
second son, those of England, including the earldom of Hereford and
lordship of the Isle of Wight, descended to his eldest son,

<g>Roger de Bretteville</g>--so named from the place of his birth.--Taking part
with the turbulent spirits of his day, and highly irritated by the
King’s refusal to sanction the marriage of his sister Emma with Ralph de
Waer, or Ralph de Guader, Earl of Norfolk, he took advantage of the
King’s absence in Normandy to have the union solemnized by a grand
public festival, at which were present many of the great military
tenants of the crown, who, readily entering into the rash views of
Hereford, concerted measures for dethroning the King. The conspiracy,
however, was divulged by Waltheof, Earl of Northumberland, who was
nevertheless beheaded for his participation therein at Winchester. They
were routed by the King’s forces at a place called Fagadune; and the
wreck of the insurgents escaping to Norwich, fortified themselves in the
castle for a time, but were soon forced to surrender. Earl Roger made
his escape to Hereford; but being apprehended and brought to trial, he
was found guilty of levying war against his sovereign, and condemned to
perpetual imprisonment and the loss of his estates. The rigours of
confinement and confiscation, however, do not appear to have subdued his
haughty spirit; for at the feast of Easter, when the King sent him a
gracious present of certain costly robes--consisting of a royal mantle,
an inner surcoat of silk, and an upper garment lined with precious furs,
in remembrance of the station he once held in the King’s favour--Earl
Roger caused a fire to be lighted in his prison, and, throwing the royal
present into it, stood by with a look of complaisance, and chafing his
hands at the blaze, till the whole present was consumed. This insane and
insolent act being immediately reported to the King, he swore his usual
oath--“per splendorem Dei”--by the glory of God--that in future Earl
Roger’s only robe should be the roof of his prison! He kept his word:
the Earl was remanded to strict confinement, and died about six years
afterwards, leaving two sons, Raynald and Roger, both excellent soldiers
under King Henry I. <g>Carisbrooke Castle</g> and the honor attached now
reverted to the crown, in which it continued till the next reign, when
it was granted to--

[Illustration]

<g>Richard de Redvers</g>, first of that name, being nephew to the late earl,
and son of Baldwin de Brion. Remaining faithful to Henry in the contest
which followed, he was rewarded by many additional marks of royal
favour--the chief of which were those of Earl of Devon and Lord of the
Isle of Wight. When Henry I. granted not only his lands, but also the
dominion over the whole Isle of Wight to Richard de Redvers, to be held
in _escuage_ at fifteen knights’ fees and a half, the crown had from
that time no demand on the landholders of the island. The king received
escuage, or scutage, from the lord of the island only, whose tenants
were chargeable only in aid to him; they held their lands as “of the
Castle of Carisbrooke,” whence, in the Liber Fœdorum, it is styled the
Honor of Carisbrooke. They were chargeable towards making the lord’s
eldest son a knight, and to the marrying of his daughter. All heirs
under age were in the wardship of the lord of the island; the tenants
were bound to defend the castle for forty days at their own charges
whenever it should be attacked, and were also to attend the lord at his
coming into, and at his leaving, the island. The lord had the return of
the king’s writs, he nominated his own bailiffs, and his constable was
coroner within the island; he had a chase, now called the Forest of
Parkhurst; and a fence month not only there, but in certain moors, with
a free warren on the east side of the river Medina. He had also wrecks,
waifs, and strays, with fairs and markets at Newport and Yarmouth.--Sir
R. Worsley.

His great liberality to the church secured him the peaceable enjoyment
of what he retained for his own use; and with the king’s favour, and the
monks’ benison, he quietly put off this life in the first year of the
reign of King Stephen, and was succeeded by his son,

<g>Baldwin de Redvers</g>, or Rivers.--In the contest between the Empress Maud
and King Stephen--to which we have adverted at some length in our notice
of Arundel--Baldwin espoused the cause of the lady; and putting
Carisbrooke and the other assailable points of his insular lordship in a
state of defence, placed them at her service. The policy and tactics of
King Stephen, however, prevailed. The warlike engines which he had
invented for the defence of his Castle, at “the expense of much
treasure,” proved of little avail, so that he was obliged to capitulate,
and with his wife and family took refuge beyond sea. Matters, however,
were afterwards so far accommodated, that he was again permitted to
resume his hereditary station and dignities as “Lord of the Isle” and
Earl of Devon. Among many pious works and benefactions, he founded the
Cistercian Abbey of Quarr--the ruins of which still attract admiration
in the neighbourhood; for it amounted to an article of faith in those
times, that whoever should build a castle, was bound to erect and endow
some convent, cloister, or priory in its vicinity, so that the military
baron might thereby secure the prayers of the monks, and a family
sepulchre.

Of this family and name were several other “Lords of the Isle,” who held
the Castle and Honor of Carisbrooke in succession, and who were
distinguished in the history between the period just mentioned and the
death of King John. Among these was--

<g>William de ‘Vernon’</g>--from his having been educated in that place. He was
one of the four nobles who supported the silken canopy over the head of
Richard Cœur-de-Lion, at his second coronation at Winchester, after he
had returned from the dungeon of Dürrenstein--an Austrian castle on the
Danube. He also, as Earl of the Isle of Wight, united with the other
barons in their successful resistance against the extortion and tyranny
of King John, and was instrumental in wresting from him the grand
bulwark of English liberty. (King John, it may be remembered, selected
the Isle of Wight as a place of safe retreat; and here he lived for
several months with a few members of his court, in expectation of
subsidies from France.) William de Vernon resided mostly at his <g>Castle
of Carisbrooke</g>, which, though far from being so extensive as many other
fortresses of that day, was still a place of great strength, and had
been successively repaired and embellished by the resident lords of the
island. It commanded then, as it does in the present day, enchanting
views of the intervening channel--the adjacent coast--and of that
inland scenery which is so justly admired, so eagerly studied and
imitated on the canvas of the painter. In that remote period, however,
the landscape had probably a much more forest-like appearance than at

[Illustration]

later periods; for the Norman fashion of appropriating large districts
to the pleasures of the chase, which was considered an indispensable
adjunct to martial training, had been long adopted in the Isle of Wight,
where an extensive park, filled with game, surrounded the Castle, and
threw open a vast field of amusement to the feudal lord and his
retainers, several of whom attended him in the chase, as they were bound
to do on the day of battle. We observe, in the later history of the
island, that Edward III. imposed on John Maltravers, for certain lands
held by him in the county of Dorset, the following service: That he
“should attend the king at his Castle of Carisbrooke for one day at his
own charge, both for himself and horse, and afterwards to remain during
the king’s pleasure; but both himself and horse in that case were to be
maintained by the crown.

At the death of Earl Baldwin, the Castle of Carisbrooke was placed by
King John under the sheriff of the county; the wardship of his son was
given to Falk de Briant, (who had married the mother of the young
count,) whom the historian of St. Alban’s stigmatizes as an impious,
ignoble, and base-conditioned man. For in noticing the death of this
“Lady of the Isle,” he characterizes her as “nobilis ac generosa domina
quondam uxor Falcasii cruentissimi proditoris;” and adds--“Copulabatur
tamen eidem ignobili nobilis; pia impio; turpi speciosa, invita et
coacta; tradente eam Johanne tyranno. De qua copula quidam ait satis
eleganter;

    “Lex connectit eos, amor, et concordia lecti.
     Sed lex qualis? amor qualis? concordia qualis?
     Lex exlex; amor exosus; concordia discors.”

Our space, however, will not allow us to quote the frightful dream
related by Father Matthew, which transformed this “wolf into a lamb,”
and sent him to prostrate himself before the Abbot of St. Alban’s and
his brethren, as the most abject of sinners.

<g>Baldwin</g>, the fifth of that name, who, along with the title of Earl of
Devon, had enjoyed the lordship of Carisbrooke, married a princess of
Savoy, cousin of Queen Eleanor; and at the nuptials of the Duke of
Brittany with Beatrice, the daughter of King Henry III., received the
honour of knighthood. He gave the first charter of franchise to the town
of Yarmouth, and obtained the grant of a fair and market to be held at
Carisbrooke--a grant of great importance in those times. At an
entertainment given about two years afterwards by his kinsman Peter,
Count of Savoy, he, together with Richard, Earl of Gloucester, and
others, is said to have been poisoned. But in those times any disease
that powerfully affected the digestive organs was frequently construed
as the result of poison. That such was in numerous instances the fact,
is not to be denied; but that every death, preceded by symptoms like
those that usually supervened on the employment of deleterious drugs,
was an act of poisoning, is no more to be credited than that
consumption, or marasmus, was, in later times, the effect of witchcraft.
But when, in reality, the art of poisoning was both studied and
practised, it was natural in the bystanders to explain the mystery of
any peculiarly sudden and fatal disease by ascribing it to poison. The
frequent recurrence of these facts or suspicions in the old chronicles,
is a proof that the practice was universally admitted; and it is painful
to observe the ingenious precautions adopted by persons of rank, in
order to avert the danger to which they were daily exposed in the use of
their domestic viands. But, reserving this curious subject for a more
convenient season, we pass to the next lord of Carisbrooke; and the late
Earl of Baldwin leaving no surviving issue, the honors and estates
devolved on his sister,

<g>Isabella de Fortibus</g>, so named from her having married William de
Fortibus, Earl of Albemarle.--This lady, after the death of her husband,
took up her residence in Carisbrooke Castle, where she lived in great
state, appeared much in public, and obtained great popularity as Lady of
the Isle--<g>Domina Insulæ</g>--both from her attention to the general
interests of the inhabitants, and her particular liberality to religious
houses. She was not so blind, however, as to permit herself to be
overreached by her monastic neighbour, the Abbot of Quarrera, by whom
many grave complaints were lodged against her for having only scattered
her pious liberalities with one hand, that she might levy contributions
with the other. If in one instance she conferred a benefaction to the
church, she withheld its lands on another; so that at last the murmurs
of abbots and priors became so loud that they reached the king’s ear,
and produced an order for the sheriff of Hampshire to take the Abbey
lands of Quarr under royal protection till matters between the countess
and the convent could be adjusted. Our limits do not permit us to
enlarge upon this lady’s administration of her authority; but it is
certain that her residence at <g>Carisbrooke Castle</g> was highly beneficial
to the island; and to her charter of franchise the beautiful town of
Newport owes its

[Illustration]

foundation and subsequent prosperity. She had five children--three sons
and two daughters, Hawise and Avelina; the youngest of whom surviving
her brothers and sister, and inheriting the vast possessions of her
family, married King Henry’s son, Edmund Crouchback, but died without
issue in her mother’s lifetime.

On the demise of this countess, the will by which, within a few hours of
her death, she had conveyed the Isle of Wight to Edward I., was disputed
by the heir-at-law, Hugh Courtenay; but after much evidence produced on
both sides, it became finally vested in the king, who retained it in his
own hands during life. At the accession of the weak and unfortunate son
who succeeded the magnanimous Edward, the lordship of Carisbrooke and of
the Isle of Wight was bestowed on his unprincipled favourite--

<g>Piers Gavestone.</g>--But this grant having occasioned great disapprobation
among the nobility, who now gave open expression to their sentiments,
Gavestone held the lordship only twelve months, when it was bestowed by
the King on his son Edward, Earl of Chester--the renowned Edward III.,
who also retained possession of it during his life, and conducted the
affairs of the island by wardens selected from the resident gentlemen,
and who, in right of office, had their residence in the Castle. The
popularity of this sovereign was acknowledged by many acts of valour on
the part of the inhabitants; who, on every instance of aggression from
French or other hostile cruisers, repulsed the invaders, and preserved
the enviable title of their “invincible island.” In the reign of his
grandson Richard II., the lordship of the Isle and Castle of Carisbrooke
was granted to

<g>William Montacute</g>, son of the first earl of that name, who, for his
service in apprehending Mortimer in the Queen’s chamber--a scene
immortalized by Drayton--was elevated to the earldom of Salisbury. This
lord of the isle was a mirror of chivalry; had filled with honour the
highest posts of the state, and in the body-guard of Edward III. had
performed many gallant exploits, which still figure in the martial
chronicles of the fourteenth century. He had the misfortune, however,
amidst all his glory, to slay his only son in a grand tilting-match at
Windsor. But we shall have to introduce this illustrious family under
another and more appropriate head of the work in hand. He died without
issue; directing by will, that his body should be interred in the
Conventual church of Bustleham, founded by his father; that every day,
until his corpse should arrive at that place, seventy-five shillings
should be distributed in alms to three hundred poor; that twenty-four
poor persons, each dressed in a gown of black cloth with a red hood,
should bear torches of eight pounds weight on the day of his funeral:
also, that there should be nine wax lights and three ‘mortars’ of wax
about his body, and banners of his arms placed on every pillar of the
church; moreover, that thirty pounds should be given to the monks to
sing trentals and pray for his soul; and lastly, that his executors
should expend five hundred marks in finishing the sacred structure at
Bustleham, and in erecting a tomb there for his father and mother; and
another for himself and his son, who had married the daughter of
Richard, Earl of Arundel, and was killed in the tilting-match already
mentioned. The above ceremonial, as related by Dugdale, presents so
striking a sketch of the manners of the time, and of the “pomp and
circumstance” which this lord of the island had “willed” should
commemorate his final departure, that we have inserted it by way of
colouring to the general picture. The black gowns--scarlet
hoods--lugubrious chant--blazing torches--waving banners--waxen tapers
and mortars--all unite to form a spectacle that must have left a vivid
impression on the minds of the spectators. The ceremony which attended
the obsequies of his widow is no less curious as a picture of the times,
and will be found in the same authority. It is supposed that this
nobleman, during his lordship of the isle, contributed several important
alterations and repairs to the castle; a circumstance which is rendered
more probable by the arms of the family, consisting of three lozenges,
being placed on a buttress at the corner of part of the governor’s
lodging. The next personage who figured as lord of Carisbrooke was

<g>Edward, Earl of Rutland</g>, son of Edmund de Langley, fifth son of Edward
III., and Duke of Albemarle, whose numerous posts of high honour and
public trust evince the entire confidence reposed in him by King
Richard, who found him but too pliant an instrument in the execution of
his atrocious designs, of which some notice has already been taken in
our account of the “Fitzalan Conspiracy.” The crimes, however, to which
he was then accessary, and which, by the confiscations which ensued,
added greatly to his possessions, brought at last the stroke of
retribution; for on Bolingbroke’s ascending the throne, he was degraded
in rank. He then entered into a conspiracy to take away the King’s life
at Windsor; but confessing the treason, was pardoned, restored to honour
and confidence, inherited his father’s title as Duke of York, and, after
having filled the high post of Lieutenant of the Duchy of Aquitaine,
fell at last in the battle of Agincourt. Leaving no family, he was
succeeded in his rights to the castle and manor of <g>Carisbrooke</g> and the
island, by his surviving duchess, Philippa, daughter of John, Lord de
Mohun, Baron of Dunster. To this lady succeeded, in the seventeenth of
Henry VI.,

[Illustration]

<g>Humphrey “the Good,”</g> Duke of Gloucester, whose character and death have
been already detailed in our account of St. Albans. He appears to have
been Seignior of Carisbrooke and the Isle of Wight during a period of
eight years; and after his death the office of Constable of Carisbrooke
was held by Henry Tranchard, in virtue of a royal grant. But the
greatest event in the history of the castle and the island at this time,
was the coronation of a King of the Isle of Wight in the person of

<g>Henry Beauchamp</g>, Duke of Warwick, son of Richard, Earl of Warwick, who
had previously filled the high office of Regent of France. “Henricus
Comes de Warwic a rege Henrico 6ᵗᵒ. cui charissimus erat coronatus est
in regem de Wight et postea nominatus primus comes totius Angliæ.” At
this august ceremony the king assisted in person, and with his own hands
placed the crown on the head of his subject-monarch--but to whom the
title of king conveyed no regal power, and invested him with no
authority in the island; the lordship of which was still possessed by
Duke Humphrey, who survived the new-made and short-lived king for some
time. To this youthful sovereign--“cropt in the flower of his youth, and
before his heroic virtues could be known,” we have already alluded in
the historical notice of Tewkesbury; and in that of Warwick will be
found several interesting particulars of his family and political
connexions. Subsequent to this period of its history, the lordship of
the castle and island appears to have been successively enjoyed by
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York; Edmund, Duke of Somerset; Henry his
son; Anthony, Earl Rivers; and Sir Edward Wydeville his brother, who was
appointed to the Captaincy of the island immediately after the accession
of Henry VII. Of Sir Edward, the following incidents are recorded by
Holinshed, Dugdale, Worsley, and others:--Three years after his
appointment to the island, when the rupture between the Duke of Brittany
and the King of France was at its height, Wydeville, or Woodville,
presuming on the King’s partiality to the Duke’s cause, undertook to do
what he conceived would prove highly acceptable to his royal master, and
asked permission to take arms in the Duke’s interest. His offer of
service, however, being declined, he still indulged the belief that in
secret the king was favourable to his design, and only withheld his
approbation that he, who had undertaken the office of mediator between
the parties, might not be supposed to violate the rules of strict
neutrality. Stimulated by this persuasion, Wydeville set instantly to
work, and assembling the islanders at Carisbrooke, addressed them in a
powerful harangue, appealing to them as sons of the “invincible island,”
and urging them to take arms in a cause which the king had much at
heart, and who would certainly acknowledge their loyal service in a
manner which would secure blessings to themselves and their posterity.
His eloquence, his political influence, and the well-known intrepidity
of his character, had their due effect; and from all parts of the
island, veterans and raw recruits flew to his standard. From the
multitude assembled, he was enabled to select as fine a body of men as
ever drew sword or bow; and hastening his preparations, a powerful force
was speedily equipped and ready for action. They consisted, says
Worsley, of “forty gentlemen, and four hundred common soldiers”--all men
of stamp and martial courage--the flower of the island; and with these,
dressed in white coats and red crosses, he embarked at the small port of
St. Helen’s in four vessels, and set sail for Brittany. The hour of his
departure was anxiously watched by the assembled population, who crowded
the shore--all anxious to take a last look of their fathers, sons,
brothers, lovers, friends, and companions, who now, elated with hope and
buoyed up with assurances of many brilliant rewards, felt like men who
were only leaving penury and obscurity to reap an abundant harvest, and
bask in the light of a victorious sun. From every religious house in the
island, monks had arrived to consecrate the departing banners, and
pronounce a blessing on the martial sons of the isle. But the scene was
such as may be more easily imagined than described. There might be
sorrow indeed, when a mother parted with her son--a maid with her
lover--or when a Jew beheld his creditor on the point of escape! But the
general expression was that of exultation. All predicted speedy triumphs
and a safe return; but how different was the result!

Landed on the French shore, the islanders were joined by fifteen hundred
of the Duke’s forces, all dressed in the same uniform; and thus welcomed
and encouraged, they longed ardently for battle. Their desire was soon
granted: meeting the King’s army at St. Aubin, a sanguinary conflict
ensued; but neither the unflinching gallantry of the islanders, nor the
firm, intrepid example of their captain, could avert the terrible
disaster which followed. The Duke’s army was completely routed. The
English, who had sworn either to keep the field as victors, or to cover
it with their dead bodies, stood like a wall of brass around their
leader, and again and again repulsed the iron columns that successively
charged and recoiled before them. But, overwhelmed by numbers, and
deserted by those whom they had come to serve, they fought with such
desperation, that of the whole force only one man is said to have
returned with the mournful tidings of the day.

The fate of this expedition threw the whole island into mourning: not a
family but had lost some of its members or relatives; gloom and
distraction were everywhere apparent; the Abbey of Quarr, priory, and
chapel, resounded with solemn anthems and masses for the dead--masses
which, whatever rest they procured for the slain, were dearly purchased
by the

[Illustration]

survivors, many of whom spent their last penny in the purchase of a
requiem. All that Scotland lost by the Field of Flodden, this island
lost--only in a smaller degree--at the battle of St. Aubin--the flower
of its chivalry, youth, and talent. With the exception of the grey
veterans who still trod the battlements, or stood sentinel at the <g>Wicket</g>
of Carisbrooke Castle, there was scarcely a man left fit to bear arms.

From the date of this ill-fated expedition, the lordship of Carisbrooke
became part of the royal demesne, and has continued ever since annexed
to the crown. Among the king’s lieutenants and wardens who had
successively command of the castle and military force of the island,
between the reign of Edward IV. and that of Elizabeth, several names
occur which held distinguished places in the history of their day; but
however pleasing it might be to enrich our pages with traits of
individual character, acts of public service, and instances of private
worth, we must relinquish this task for the present; but with the
history of the old baronial families, as we proceed, most of the traits
and anecdotes here omitted will be found incorporated. It may be
mentioned, however, in passing, that in the captainship of Richard
Worsley the island was visited by Henry VIII., who, attended by his
favourite, Lord Cromwell--then constable of the castle, and afterwards
beheaded--partook of the various entertainments prepared for him at the
Captain’s seat of Appuldurcumbe. The object of the King’s visit on this
occasion, observes the historian, appears to have been “to amuse
himself with hawking, or some other species of chase,” as he had some
time previously, in a letter dated “at our manʳof Otland,” given strict
orders for the preservation of the game in the royal demesne.

We shall now pass on to a later epoch, in order to take a glance of the
Castle of Carisbrooke, as it stood when garrisoned by the troops of
Henry’s magnanimous daughter, Queen Elizabeth. Hitherto the personal
valour and independent spirit of the inhabitants had been sufficient to
protect the Isle of Wight from the violence of enemies, to which, by its
natural position, it was continually exposed. Now, however, it was
deemed expedient by government to strengthen it by the construction of
new forts, and the better appointment of those that had stood the waste
of centuries. With this view, the master-fort of the island, the Castle
of Carisbrooke, underwent a thorough change. What was old was repaired
and accommodated to the modern art of war; extensive additions,
barracks, arsenals, and outer works--as shown in the plan--were added;
so that whatever was considered by the engineers of Elizabeth’s reign as
necessary for a military fortress, was carefully bestowed on that of
Carisbrooke. The embrasures, in which rested the ponderous ordnance of
modern warfare, contrasted strongly with the diminutive loopholes
through which had glanced the feathered shafts of Fitz-Osborne; while
the tramp of musketeers and troopers, who now paced its battlements and
crowded its barracks, gave to the ancient precincts much of the stir and
animation of a great citadel. But the “Invincible Armada,” which had
presented so many terrors--and for the effectual resistance of which so
many preparations had been made--passed harmlessly by, to waste its
strength in

[Illustration]

conflict with the waves. The castle at this time was under the command
of Sir George Carey, “captain” or “governor” of the island,--whose
<g>Residence</g>, with the barracks adjoining, forms a prominent feature in the
castle. But in the absence of military events, the following anecdote,
in proof of the peace and harmony which prevailed among the inhabitants
at that time, occurs in the Memoirs of Sir John Oglander: “I have
heard,” says he, “and partly know it to be true, that not only
heretofore there was no lawyer or attorney in our island; but that, in
Sir George Carey’s time, an attorney coming to settle in the island, he
was, with a pound of candles dangling at his heels, lighted, with bells
about his legs, and hunted out of the island; insomuch as our ancestors
lived here so quietly and securely, being neither troubled to go to
London nor Winchester, so they seldom or never went out of the
island--insomuch that when they went to London, thinking it an East
India voyage, they always made their wills.”--We now return to a survey
of

<g>The Castle</g>--which has undergone little or no alteration since the above
period--and gladly avail ourselves of Sir Richard Worsley’s authority as
the ground-work of the short sketch which follows. Considering that the
principal difference between a Saxon and Norman castle consisted in the
former having built one regular entire fortification round, or as nearly
so as the nature of the ground would admit; while the latter built
theirs in two distinct fortifications--the keep, and the base-court; it
has been concluded by Strutt and others, that the keep of Carisbrooke
Castle is entirely of ancient British or Saxon workmanship, and that the
base-court was added by the Normans. Of the original Saxon fortress,
rebuilt by Fitz-Osborne, the walls enclose about an acre and a half, and
in figure are nearly a rectangular parallelogram, having the angles
rounded. The greatest space is from east to west. The old or Norman
Castle is surrounded by a more modern fortification, faced with stone,
of an irregular pentagonal form, defended by five bastions. These
outworks, which are in circuit about three quarters of a mile and
surrounded by a deep ditch, circumscribe in the whole about twenty
acres. They were added in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and constructed
by the Italian engineer Genebella, on the same plan as those of Antwerp.
The work was undertaken at the representation of the governor, Sir
George Carey, when the country was menaced by the Spanish Armada. In aid
of the expenses, Queen Elizabeth gave four thousand pounds; the
gentlemen of the island gave four hundred more, and the commonalty
contributed their personal labour by digging the outward ditch gratis.
For the following particulars the reader is referred to the Ground Plan
at the close of the present subject.

On a small projecting stone on the north-east corner is carved the date
M.D.XCVIII. The entrance is on the west side in the curtain, between two
bastions through a small stone gateway; on the arch of which is the same
date, with the initial letters <g>E. R.</g> (p. 296.) This gate leads to a
second of much greater antiquity, machicolated, and flanked by two large
round towers. It is supposed to have been built by Lord Woodville in the
time of Edward IV., his arms being engraved on a stone at the top, and
the Roses of York on each side. The old gate with its wicket (p. 293),
of strong lattice-work, fastened with large nails at every crossing, is
still remaining, and opens into the castle-yard. Entering the area on
the right hand stands the chapel of St. Nicholas, with its enclosed
<g>Cemetery</g>. The present building was erected on the ruins of an ancient
chapel endowed about the time that Domesday Book was compiled. Over the
original chapel was an Armory, containing breast, back, and head pieces
for two or three troops of horse; but when defensive armour went out of
use, they were sold by order of Lord Cadogan, then governor. Over the

[Illustration]

door is carved G. II. 1738; and by a stone tablet at the east end, we
are informed that it was rebuilt during the government of Lord
Lymington. Farther towards the left are the ruins of some buildings,
said to be those in which

<g>King Charles</g> was confined; and a window is shown as that through which
he attempted to escape. Beyond these are the barracks and governor’s
house, (see page 294,) which contain several good rooms with coved
ceilings, and have been occasionally used for a military hospital; and
certainly, with regard to air and situation, a more salubrious station
could not have been selected. On a mount, raised considerably above the
other buildings, stands

<g>The Keep</g>, or Donjon.--Its figure (as seen p. 281, 283, and in the plan)
is an irregular polygon; the ascent to it is by seventy-two steps up the
side of the mount, and there are more within--each step is about nine
inches. This multangular tower bears evident marks of great antiquity:
some of the angles are strengthened by walling of hewn stone, which was
probably added under Edward IV. when the great gate was rebuilt. There
is a well within this keep, said to be three hundred feet deep; but it
has, like that in Arundel Castle, been partly filled up as useless and
dangerous. The battlements command a most extensive and beautiful
prospect, which is not confined to the island only, but takes in the New
Forest and Portsdown, with the sea intervening at several points, and
much picturesque scenery adjoining. At the south-east angle of the keep
stands the remains of another tower, (cut p. 285,) called

<g>Mountjoy’s Tower</g>, probably in honour of the nobleman of that name,
governor of Tourney in the time of Henry VIII. The walls of this tower
are in some places eighteen feet thick, and still command a beautiful
prospect, though less extensive than that from the keep. The ramparts
between these towers is about twenty feet high and eight feet thick,
including a parapet of two feet and a half, which was carried quite
round the castle. Under a small building in the castle-yard, adjoining
the governor’s house, is

<g>The Garrison Well</g>, from which the water is drawn by means of a large
windlass-wheel, turned by an ass. On a former occasion this duty was
performed

[Illustration]

during a period of more than forty years by the same animal, which, on
account of his services, was long one of the great curiosities of the
place. Down the well it is usual to drop a nail, or even a pin, which,
after a lapse of three seconds, produces a sound much greater than can
be well conceived by those who have not actually heard it. Another
experiment is often made in showing this well to strangers--namely, that
of letting down, by means of a pulley, a lighted lamp in a wooden basin,
which in descending occasions a loud noise, from the resistance of the
air, like a hollow wind or distant thunder; and as the lamp floats upon
the surface of the water, the compact masonry of the well--which is
partly cut through the rock--is distinctly visible. The water furnished
by the castle-well is remarkably pure and sparkling; and in instances
where it has been carried to India and back, it has still retained its
native purity.

<g>The Governor’s House</g> (see p. 294) contains several spacious apartments,
but now unfurnished, and only inhabited by the cicerone of the castle.
Like the additions above mentioned, it is of the Elizabethan epoch, and
externally has a rather picturesque appearance--its gables and tall
chimneys much resembling buildings of similar date in the Netherlands.
At the conclusion of the late war, the garrison consisted of a governor,
a lieutenant-governor, a captain, a master gunner, and three assistants.
The salary of the governor was twelve hundred pounds, and that of the
lieutenant-governor three hundred and sixty-five pounds per annum.

The castle has been on various occasions attacked by hostile fleets and
marauders, and as often to the loss and discomfiture of the assailants.
Of these attacks several instances are related by the chief historian of
the island--Sir Richard Worsley. The island, however, had continued
comparatively unmolested till the reign of Richard II., at which time,
says Stowe, “The French took that invincible isle, more by craft than
force.” In the preceding reign a landing having been effected by the
French, the inhabitants fled for refuge to Carisbrooke Castle, then
defended by Sir Hugh Tyrrill, who slew a great number of the assailants.
During the siege a party of the intruders coming down a narrow lane
towards the castle, fell into an ambuscade, and were mostly cut off. The
lane is still called Deadman’s Lane. Unable to subdue the castle, the
French withdrew; but, before they re-embarked, obliged the natives to
redeem their houses from being burnt by a heavy contribution. Again, in
the reign of Henry V., a body of French adventurers arrived on the
island, and boasted that they would keep their Christmas there. But as
about a thousand of them were driving cattle towards their ships, they
were suddenly attacked by the islanders, and obliged to leave not only
their plunder, but many of their men behind them. On another occasion,
when a French fleet had arrived, and demanded a subsidy, the islanders
gave them a hardy denial; but told them that, if they had a mind to try
their prowess, they should have full permission to land, with six hours
to refresh themselves; after which the natives would meet them in the
field. But the invitation was not accepted.--For other particulars, the
reader is referred to Worsley’s military history of the island.

[Illustration]

Thus far our description has been confined to times and personages when
Carisbrooke Castle was a fortress and palace; we now proceed to view it
as the prison of King Charles I.--an event which excites more real
interest than all the other circumstances in its history. At the time
when the great question between the King and his Parliament agitated the
whole country, Carisbrooke Castle was under the command of the Earl of
Portland. This nobleman stood high in the estimation of the inhabitants;
for, in a petition numerously signed and presented to Parliament in his
behalf, they expressly mention him as “their noble, much honoured, and
beloved captayne and governor.” He was nevertheless superseded, and
Colonel Brett appointed to the command. In the interim, the Countess of
Portland and her five children, accompanied by her husband’s brother and
sister, took refuge in the castle. The desire of holding it for the king
was by no means abandoned; and by her presence in the fortress she
hoped to exert some salutary influence over the minds of the populace,
whose attachment to her husband and his family had been so publicly
manifested on a late occasion. The proverbial fickleness of popular
favour, however, was soon to be verified; for, instigated by the mayor
of Newport, who represented that the island could not be safe so long as
Colonel Brett and the Countess of Portland remained in Carisbrooke
Castle, Parliament directed the captains of all ships stationed in the
river to assist in any measures which the said mayor might deem
necessary

[Illustration]

for securing the island. The Newport militia accordingly, with four
hundred naval auxiliaries, were marched up to the walls of the castle,
near <g>Elizabeth’s Tower</g>, which at this time, says Worsley, “had not three
days’ provision for its slender garrison.” The moment was critical; the
assailants had every advantage, while the prospect of famine or
surrender was all that could be expected by the besieged. The countess,
too, had a young family around her; and it may be imagined with what
feelings she beheld the planting of hostile ordnance, and anticipated
the probable effusion of kindred blood. There was little time for
reflection or hesitation. With the magnanimity of a Roman matron, she
made her appearance on the platform with a lighted match in her hand,
and there, raising her voice, so as to be distinctly heard by the mayor
and his armed followers, told them, with an undaunted air and
unfaltering accents, that unless honourable terms were granted to
herself and the garrison--whom they had so unaccountably summoned to
surrender--she would instantly, with her own hand, discharge the first
cannon, and defend the walls to the last extremity. Struck with her
dignified demeanour, and the determination to which she had just given
utterance, the mayor paused in his operations, and, having consulted
with his townsmen, all that the countess demanded was agreed to: she was
allowed to retain possession of her apartments in the castle; Colonel
Brett, his staff, and servants, who composed the garrison, were allowed
the freedom of the island, but were restricted from going to
Portsmouth, then held for the king by Goring, and the castle was
surrendered to Parliament. The countess, however, being represented as
still firmly attached to the king’s interest--consequently a dangerous
inmate in the castle--an order was issued, that within two days after
notice given, she should vacate both the castle and island. She did so,
and was indebted to the humanity of a few generous fishermen for the
means of conveying herself and family to Southampton.--See the political
history of this period.

Passing over the governorship of the Earl of Pembroke, who next held
command in this ancient fortress, we come to that of Colonel Hammond,
who had the unenviable distinction of being captain of the fortress
when, as already mentioned, it became the prison of the martyr-king.

Among the accounts handed down by Clarendon and other writers, who have
severally treated of King <g>Charles’s</g> confinement in this castle, there is
considerable discrepancy; but the following particulars, condensed from
other sources less accessible to general readers, seem best suited to
the scope and limits of the present work. After effecting his escape
from the palace of Hampton Court, in the manner described by Lord
Clarendon, Charles threw himself into the Isle of Wight, of which
Colonel Hammond was then governor. At first, and for a considerable time
after his arrival in the island, he appears to have been well lodged, to
have suffered neither humiliation nor outward restraint, but to have
experienced, on the part of the civil and military authorities, every
mark of respect and sympathy to which a good man and a great monarch,
struggling with adversity, was so justly entitled. He was permitted to
take exercise on horseback where he pleased, though his motions and
actions were no doubt carefully observed; and as the Parliament had made
him a grant at the rate of five thousand pounds per annum, he lived a
few months in the state <g>Apartments</g> of the castle--still shown as <g>King
Charles’s Rooms</g>--with much of the external forms and appearance of
royalty. This liberty, however, was soon abridged; and he was made to
feel that he was no longer a potentate to be heard and obeyed, but a
prisoner at the mercy of his subjects. His chaplains and faithful
attendants were first removed; and shortly afterwards his intercourse
was peremptorily restricted to certain persons, strangers to him, whom
the Parliament had appointed to be about his person. He was no longer
permitted to pass the gate of the castle, but mostly confined to his
apartments--now reduced to masses of rubbish and fragments of
ivy-covered walls. So solitary was his confinement during a great
portion of his time, “that as he was standing one day near the gate of
the castle, with Sir Philip Warwick, he pointed to a decrepit old man,
and said--‘That man is sent every morning to light my fire, and is the
best companion I have had for many months.’” The king, however,
submitted to all this severity with Christian patience and equanimity,
and endeavoured as much as possible to keep his mind employed. He had
always had serious impressions of religion,

[Illustration: KING CHARLES’S ROOMS.]

and these were neither shaken nor diminished, but strengthened and
confirmed, by the harassing restraint under which lie was now placed.
Devotion, meditation, and reading the scriptures, were his greatest
consolations. The few books which he had brought into the castle with
him, were chiefly on religious subjects, or of a serious cast. Among
these was Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity--a book which it is probable he
had studied with great attention, as it related much to the national
question so much agitated at that time, and in which no man was better
versed. In his slender catalogue, we find also two books of amusement,
Tasso’s “Jerusalem,” and Spenser’s “Faëry Queen.” His freedom, however,
was more and more abridged. He was an excellent horseman, and fond of
that exercise; but as this indulgence was denied, he spent two or three
hours every morning in walking on the castle ramparts. There he enjoyed
at least fresh air and an extensive prospect; although every object he
beheld--the “flocks straying carelessly on one side, and the ships
sailing freely on the other”--brought painfully to remembrance that
liberty and enjoyment of life of which he was so cruelly deprived. Thus
circumstanced, he became regardless of his dress; he allowed his beard
to grow, lost much of his cheerfulness; and in the expression of his
countenance betrayed the inward feelings of a patient but unhappy
captive.

During his imprisonment in this castle, three several attempts appear
to have been made, and chiefly by the gentlemen of the neighbourhood,
for his enlargement. These are severally mentioned by Clarendon, Gilpin,
and the writers of the Worsley Papers, from which it appears, that by a
correspondence privately settled with some gentlemen of the island, it
was agreed that the king should let himself down from

<g>A window</g> of his apartment; a swift horse with a guide was to wait for

[Illustration]

him at the bottom of the ramparts, while a vessel in the offing was to
be ready to convey him wherever he pleased. The chief difficulty was,
how the King should get through the iron bars of his window: but Charles
assured them that he had already made experiment of the passage, and had
every reason to believe that it was sufficiently large to admit his
person. All being ready--the night dark, the fortress quiet, and not a
whisper of suspicion of what was going on--everything promised a
successful issue. The signal was then made. Charles appeared at the
window, and seeing his friends in attendance, signified his readiness to
make the attempt at once. But what was his disappointment and the
mortification of his friends, who stood watching him with unspeakable
anxiety, when he found that, in his eagerness to lay hold of any
rational means of escape, he had miscalculated the width of the
aperture! Having protruded his head and shoulders, he could get no
further; and what was worse, he could not draw himself back. His friends
at the bottom of the wall heard him groan in distress, but durst neither
relieve him by word nor act, without alarming the sentinels, and thus
sacrificing their own lives. It was a moment of agonizing suspense. At
length, after repeated exertions, the king succeeded in extricating
himself from his perilous situation, and, waving his hand before the
light as a signal, retired mournfully to his couch, there to brood over
this fresh blow to his hopes, and the defeated loyalty of his friends.

In the next plan laid for his escape, from the same window, implements
having been secretly conveyed to him for that purpose, Charles
contrived, by night-work and with “wonderful trouble,” to saw the
massive iron bar asunder, which had proved the great obstacle in his
last attempt. But all these schemes were alike unsuccessful; and, until
the treaty of Newport--of which some interesting particulars are related
by Sir Richard Worsley--the king remained a close prisoner in the Castle
of Carisbrooke. He was then seized by the army, and carried a prisoner
to Hurst Castle. “Just at the break of day,” says Worsley--in an extract
from Colonel Cooke’s ‘Narrative’--“the king, hearing a loud knocking at
his outer door, sent the Duke of Richmond to learn the cause, who found
there a person who said his name was Mildmay--a brother of Sir Henry
Mildmay, and one of the servants placed by the Parliament about the
king’s person. On the duke’s inquiring his business, he answered that
there were several gentlemen from the army, who were very desirous to
speak with the king. The duke carried in this message; but the knocking
still increasing, the king gave orders for their admission. The doors
were no sooner opened, than those officers rushed into the bed-chamber
before the king could rise from his bed, and abruptly told him that they
had orders for his removal. ‘From whom?’ inquired the king. ‘From the
army,’ they replied. ‘And to what place?’ inquired the king. ‘To the
castle,’ said they. ‘To what castle?’ demanded the king. They again
answered, ‘To the castle.’--‘_The_ castle,’ said the king, ‘is no
castle;’ but added, that he was well enough prepared for any castle, and
therefore required them to name it; when, after a short whisper
together, they said ‘Hurst Castle.’--‘Indeed!’ replied the king, ‘you
could hardly have named a worse.’... The Duke of Richmond then ordered
the king’s breakfast to be hastened, presuming that there was little
provision made for him in that desolate fortress; but before his majesty
was well ready, the horses being come, they hurried him away, only
permitting the duke to attend him for about two miles, and then telling
him he must go no further. He therefore took a sad farewell of the king,
being scarcely permitted to kiss his hand. The king’s last words to the
duke were, ‘Remember me to my Lord Lindsay and Colonel Cooke; and
command Cooke from me, never to forget the passages of this night!’” He
then proceeded a prisoner to Hurst Castle, “which at that time,” says
Warwick, “contained only a few dog-lodgings for soldiers.”--In his way
to that dismal receptacle, he accidentally met Mr. Worsley, one of the
gentlemen who had so generously risked their lives for him in the
above-mentioned attempts to escape. Charles wrung his hand with
affection; and pulling the watch out of his pocket gave it to him, with
these words--“Keep this in remembrance of me: it is all my gratitude has
to give.” This watch is still preserved in the Worsley family; it is of
“silver, large and clumsy in its form; neatly ornamented in the case
with filagree work; but the movements are of very ordinary workmanship,
and are wound up with cat-gut.” On his arrival within its walls, the
“solitude and dreariness of the castle struck like a death-damp to the
heart of Charles!” Never till this moment had he thought himself in
danger: but now suspicions of secret assassination haunted his mind; and
as he looked around him, and compared Hurst Castle with that which he
had left--“Here,” said he to himself, “were the place for such a
deed!”--But the events which followed the king’s departure from the Isle
of Wight require no further notice in this place.

With these brief notices of Carisbrooke Castle, and the chief personages
and events with which it is connected, we close this portion of our
subject; and for many interesting facts and persons which our limits
will not permit us to detail, we refer, with every due acknowledgment,
to the Authorities here annexed--particularly to that of the late Sir
Richard Worsley.

[Illustration: <g>Ground Plan of Carisbrooke Castle.</g>

     EXPLANATION OF <g>Plan</g>.--A A. Governor’s apartments; B. The parts of
     it demolished; C. Well of the Garrison; D. The Gunner’s House; E.
     Formerly a Guard House; F. Buildings demolished; G. Parish Church;
     H. Coach House; I. Powder Magazine; K. Store House; L. Stables,
     formerly Barracks; M. S.-East Platform; N. S.-West Ditto; O. Now a
     Garden; P. Gateway, with two Round Towers for Prisons; Q. Out
     Guard; R. Tower of Keep, with a Well 36 fathoms; S. Stone Wall,
     with its Parapet; T. Place of Arms.
]

     AUTHORITIES:--Order. Vital. De Gul. Primo.--Gul. Cimitensis, De
     Ducib. Normannis, lib. vii. c. xv.--Dugd. Bar. and Monast.--Will.
     Malmsb.--Matt. Paris.--Holinshed.--Polyd.
     Virg.--Camden.--Froissart.--Sir Richard
     Worsley.--Cooke.--Lane.--Clarendon, Hist. Rebel. vol. iii. Part
     I.--Gilpin.--Monstrelet, vol. ii. 458.--Col. Cooke’s Narrative,
     MSS. Harleian Collect.--Hist. of England, Civil and Milit.
     Transact., p. 298; for the event here noticed, see Monstrelet, vol.
     i. p. 32.--For Waltheof v. Ingulph. Selecta Monumento, p. 254.
     Note.--See also Append. to Orig Extracts to this Volume.

[Illustration: NETLEY ABBEY.]




[Illustration: NETLEY ABBEY.]

    “Now sunk, deserted, and with weeds o’ergrown,
     Yon prostrate walls their harder fate bewail;
     Low on the ground their topmost spires are thrown,
     Once friendly marks to guide the wandering sail.

     The ivy now with rude luxuriance bends
     Its tangled foliage through the cloister’d space,
     O’er the green windows’ mould’ring height ascends,
     And fondly clasps it with a last embrace.”--KEATE.


Few monastic ruins are equally interesting with that of Netley Abbey;
yet we know of no monastery of the same importance of which the history
is so imperfectly known. Its position in a secluded spot, where the
ground it occupies might be spared from other purposes, and accidental
circumstances of different kinds, have so far preserved its walls from
destruction, that we may here still trace with accuracy the arrangement
and internal economy of those great religious establishments which, in
former ages, were to be seen in every part of our island.

The modern name of <g>Netley</g> appears itself to be only a corruption of the
more ancient one of <g>Letley</g>, <g>Lettely</g>, or <g>Latelie</g>, under which the place
is mentioned in Domesday Book, as being held by Richard Pungiant. We
learn from the same important document, that previously to the Norman
Conquest it had been held of King Edward by Alward, “who could go where
he would.”[227] It was probably from the circumstance of its having been
a manor belonging to Edward the Confessor, that it afterwards took the
name of “the Place of St. Edward,” or <g>Edwardestowe</g>. The derivation of
the name Letley is very uncertain; it was probably the remarkable taste
for punning on proper names, so characteristic of the writers and
scholars of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, which led them to call
it in Latin <g>De Laeto Loco</g>, or “the joyful place.”

The Abbey of Netley, or Letley, can boast of no great antiquity. It
appears certain that it was founded by King Henry III. in the year 1239;
although it has been supposed, on very weak grounds, that a religious
house of some kind had previously occupied its site. Henry’s original
charter is not preserved; but in a subsequent brief charter of
confirmation--dated

[Illustration]

March 7, 1251--he speaks of it as the church which he had
founded--“ecclesia quam nos fundavimus”--and gives or confirms to it the
lands of Lettelege, Hune, Welewe, Totinton, Gumelculne, Nordleg,
Deverell-Kingston, Waddon, Ayheleg, and Lacton, with all their
appurtenances, with the rents of Charleton, Southampton, and Suthwerk,
and a hundred acres of land in the manor of Schire, as well as the
advowson of the church of that manor. The lands in Schire appear to have
been given, or sold, to the Abbey in 1243: we have the confirmation of
the grant, by John de Warren, Earl of Surrey, dated on the day of the
Epiphany, 1252, but his original charter is also lost. The <g>Seals</g> of
Netley Abbey, of which three are known, describe it as the Abbey of St.
Mary of Edwardestowe. An impression of the seal of the abbot, attached
to a deed of the beginning of the reign of Edward III., represents a
figure of an abbot, surrounded by the inscription, S. ABBIS LOCI S’CI
EDWARDI. A seal of the abbey, of the same date, but much mutilated, has
the following fragments of an inscription:...... COMMUNE ABB.......
EDWARDI. DE. LETTE.... At the latter end of the last century, the matrix
of a seal of this house was discovered in the possession of a dealer in
curiosities in London:[228] the seal was very small, not much larger
than a modern shilling; on it was represented a person kneeling before
the Virgin and Child, and surrounded by the inscription,
S.BEATE.MARIE.DE.STOWIE.S’CI.EDWARD’. Mr. Brand imagined that the
kneeling figure was intended to represent King Edward the Confessor.

[Illustration]

The king placed in his foundation a small party of Cistercian monks,
then the most powerful and encroaching of all the religious orders. This
monastic colony was brought from the Abbey of Beaulieu, in the New
Forest. Antiquaries have succeeded, after much labour, in discovering
the names of eight Abbots of Netley; but as these stretch over a space
of three centuries, there can be no doubt that the list is incomplete.
The list of benefactors is equally imperfect: in addition to those
already mentioned, we only know with certainty the names of Edmund, Earl
of Cornwall, the second son of the founder, Robert de Vere, and Walter
de Burgh. The latter is stated to have given property in the county of
Lincoln, which he held of the king in capite by the service of
presenting to him a hat, lined with sindon, a kind of fine linen, and a
pair of gilt spurs.[229] It has been supposed that Richard Foxe, Bishop
of Winchester from 1502 to 1528, was one of the latest benefactors.

In point of revenue, Netley Abbey was one of the smaller monasteries. At
the time of its dissolution in 1538, the community consisted of an abbot
and twelve monks; and their possessions produced, according to Dugdale,
£100 1_s._ 8_d._, or, according to Speed, £160 2_s._ 9-1/4_d._ The site
was granted to Sir William Paulet, subsequently created Marquis of
Winchester, and one of the most remarkable statesmen of his time. It was
he who built the magnificent house at Basing, celebrated for the
obstinate siege which it sustained in the civil wars of the seventeenth
century. This nobleman died in 1572, at the great age of ninety-seven
years; and is said to have seen, before his death, a hundred and three
persons descended from him. He probably sold Netley to the Earl of
Hertford, in whose possession we find it in the beginning of the reign
of Elizabeth. There is a tradition, that this nobleman turned the ruined
abbey into a dwelling-house: and it is said that a part of the church
was converted into a kitchen. There are, however, at present, no traces
about the buildings to support this story. We might be led to suppose
that the house inhabited occasionally by the Earl of Hertford, and then
known by the name of Netley Castle, was rather the old fort below the
abbey, of which the rains still remain. In 1560, the Earl of Hertford
was here honoured by a visit from his sovereign, Queen Elizabeth.
According to the register of St. Michael’s parish, Southampton, “the
queen’s majesty’s grace came from the Castle of Netley to Southampton,
on the thirteenth day of August.” It is not improbable that, at this
time, many parts of the abbey were in a sufficient state of repair to be
fitted up for the reception of the queen’s attendants.

If, at a later period, the abbey was really used as a dwelling-house for
the Hertford family, they probably occupied the buildings, of which the
ruins are still considerable, on the west and south sides of the great
court. It is pretended that the church was then used as the family
chapel: and George Keate, the poet, informs us that he had seen, in an
interleaved almanack of the year 1665, which had belonged to a lady of
the same family, an entry stating, that the lady of Francis, Lord
Seymour--a younger branch of the Hertford family--lay in there of
Charles, Lord Seymour, second Baron of Troubridge, who was baptized in
the chapel. This part of the history of Netley Abbey is, however, very
obscure. It is said to have passed in the latter part of the seventeenth
century to the Earl of Huntingdon, who also resided there (according to
the tradition). In 1700 it belonged to Sir Bartlet Lucy, who sold the
materials of the church to a Mr. Taylor of Southampton; and from that
period it appears that we are to date the commencement of the
destruction of this once noble edifice.

The general style of this <g>Church</g> is that of the reign of Henry III., and
the present building is doubtlessly coeval with that monarch’s
foundation. It formed the northern side of the abbey, and was, as usual,
cruciform, having north and south transepts. The walls of the south
transept remain nearly perfect to the roof; the south wall of the church
also remains in nearly its whole elevation; but the north wall, which
contained the larger windows, is in a less perfect condition, and the
site of the north transept is only marked by a confused heap of rubbish,
overgrown with trees and brambles. The east and west ends of the church
are also standing. The north wall is supported externally by low
buttresses; and some traces of buildings, with the heaps of rubbish on
the ground, lead us to suppose that there was one or more smaller
external buildings, perhaps chapels, attached. The <g>West Window</g>, as well
as the great eastern window, appears to have been, when perfect and
filled with stained glass, extremely handsome and

[Illustration]

striking. The springings which supported the arches of the groined roof
are still visible; and until a comparatively recent period, part of the
roof itself remained standing, and among the ruins “various arms and
devices were to be traced.” Its ruins, mixed with those of the columns
which separated the aisles from the nave, still encumber the floor in a
picturesque manner, partly covered with shrubs and plants, and held
firmly together by the roots of lofty trees which have grown upon them.
The old lady who has taken her station at the entrance of the abbey, to
act as a guide to the interior, regards these shapeless heaps with
peculiar attachment: and she fails not to tell the visitor, in accents
of sorrowful indignation, of the recent depredations of a barbarian
workman who was sent to gather up the “loose stones,” and who did not
hesitate to lay his sacrilegious hands on portions of that which was not
loose. Vulgar tradition points out the largest of these masses as a
monument of divine retribution on the wretch whose avarice led him to
spoil the pious work of his forefathers; and it is believed that he lies
buried beneath the rubbish which his own hand had dragged down.

    “Here too (belief could old tradition claim),
     Where swells the rocky mound in shapeless heaps,
     (His name now lost, his guilt divulged by fame,)
     Some rude dismantler of this abbey sleeps.

     Long, long in thought the patient earth he cursed,
     That bore the fabric’s then unbroken spires;
     Long wish’d the power to bid volcanoes burst,
     Or call from heaven thought-executing fires.

     ‘Wide wave,’ he cried, ‘all bright with golden grain
     The neighbouring vales, while this proud cumbrous mass
     For many a barren furlong chills the plain,
     And draws with idle zeal the crowds that pass.

     ‘No more the votaries of each time-shook pile,
     As ruin’s heirs, shall call these shades their own;
     For blazon’d arms explore the pageant aisle,
     Or search dark registers of faithless stone.’

     He spoke--resolved. The menaced arches frown’d,
     The conscious walls in sudden conflict join’d,
     Crush’d the pale wretch in one promiscuous wound,
     And left this monument of wrath behind.”

The appearance of this church shows that its ultimate destruction has
been the work of accident, rather than of design; although a story of a
less doubtful character informs us, that we owe the preservation of the
building in its present condition to a retributary accident, resembling
that of the legend just mentioned. We have already stated that, about
the commencement of the last century, the materials of the abbey were
sold to a person of the name of Taylor, who resided at Southampton. His
friends, who looked with superstitious feelings on this venerable pile,
urged him not to conclude the bargain, and advised him to abstain from
being instrumental in the work of sacrilege; but he was deaf to their
entreaties. He had scarcely taken possession of his purchase, when in
his sleep he was visited by a fearful dream, in which it appeared to him
that the key-stone of one of the arches,[230] which was to be demolished
first, fell upon his head, and fractured his skull. Although troubled in
mind, he at first paid no attention to this dream; but when it was
repeated more than once, he ventured to disclose it to a friend. That
friend was Mr. Watts, a schoolmaster in Southampton, the father of the
celebrated Dr. Isaac Watts. He advised Taylor to desist from the
undertaking; but the avarice of the latter overcame all scruples or
fears, and he returned to the work of demolition. He had hardly begun,
when, in exerting himself to tear down a board, he loosened the
identical stone which had been represented to him in his dream, and
which in its fall struck him a violent blow on the head. He was carried
home, and his skull was found to be slightly fractured, but no
apprehensions were entertained of serious consequences. The surgeon,
however, in probing the wound, accidentally thrust his instrument into
the brain, and caused instant death. The fate of Taylor is said to have
acted as an effectual check to future depredations of a similar kind.

The arches of the <g>South Transept</g> of Netley Abbey Church are peculiarly
elegant and graceful; although, like those of the nave and choir, they
are devoid of the rich and diminutive ornamentation which characterizes
the architecture of a somewhat later period. Above the lower series of
arches, a passage or corridor runs round this part of the building,
which is approached by a small spiral staircase in the corner between
the transept and the choir. Below, delicately-wrought arches and
recesses in the wall mark the spots formerly occupied by sepulchral
monuments, raised probably over the bones of abbots or benefactors. The
ruins of this transept were cleared away from the floor a few years ago,
and it is said that coats-of-arms were observed on some of the stones.
The vaulted aisle on the east side of this transept is still in a
perfect state, by which, through a door in the south-east corner, the
monks entered from the sacristy. Another door, between the door just
mentioned and that which leads to the staircase, communicates with a
narrow yard behind the choir of the church. The entrance from the
principal court of the monastery is situated in the south-west corner of
the same transept.

It is probable that a tower rose above the intersection of the transepts
with the church, although no distinct traces of it now remain. Tradition
says that its lofty pinnacles formerly served as land-marks to the
sailors in their way up the Southampton-water. The whole length of the
church is about two hundred feet: its breadth is sixty feet. The space
between the extreme walls of the two transepts appears to have been
about a hundred and twenty feet.

The general arrangement of the abbey buildings bears a strong
resemblance to that of the older colleges in our Universities. The
entrance gateway, which faces the south, and is approached from the
beach, leads us into the principal court of the abbey, which, when
perfect, must have been

[Illustration]

a noble quadrangle. A fountain is said to have stood in the centre, from
which it has long been known by the name of the <g>Fountain Court</g>; but its
site is now occupied by a clump of picturesque trees: similar trees have
taken root in other parts of the court. The south and west sides were
formed by buildings, the dilapidated walls of which afford no clue to
the object to which they were formerly devoted, although they appear to
have been divided into apartments of different dimensions and forms,
some of which had fire-places. Portions of the walls, from the
circumstance of their being repaired with bricks, seem to indicate that
this part of the building was inhabited at no very distant period. But
modern brick-work is found in other parts of the abbey, and it was
perhaps added only for the purpose of securing the walls from falling.
The north side of the court is formed by the nave of the church; while
on the east side stands the southern transept, and adjoining to it the
principal buildings of the abbey.

This court is of large dimensions, and its walls are still erect. It was
the most public part of the abbey, being open equally to those who came
to offer up their prayer in the church, or who were anxious to unburden
their mind in the confessional; to the traveller who sought a temporary
shelter among the monks, or to the mendicant who lived upon their alms.
The solitary ruins speak to our hearts of other days, of which the
reality is long passed away: the house of prayer has been rifled and
dishonoured, the spacious halls now afford but a dubious shelter to the
pilgrim, and the almoner has ceased to dole out the daily portion to the
poor.

    “No more shall Charity, with sparkling eyes
     And smiles of welcome, wide unfold the door
     Where Pity, listening still to Nature’s cries,
     Befriends the wretched and relieves the poor.”

On Mondays, the Fountain Court presents a singular scene of gaiety. It
has long been the custom for people from Southampton, and the
neighbourhood to meet at the abbey on that day, and to hold a kind of
festival. Tea and other provisions are furnished by the inhabitants of a
neighbouring cottage, and this is followed by music and dancing.

On the eastern side of the quadrangle are four doorways. The door to the
south leads into a vaulted passage, which formed the communication
between the first court and the interior quadrangle of cloisters. To the
north of this passage are the apartments connected with the government
of the house and the service of the church: to the south, the hall,
kitchen, &c. Of the three exterior doors which lay to the north of the
entrance to the passage, the first is the entrance to the chapter-house;
the second, a small but very elegant arch, leads to the ancient
confessional; and the last communicates with the south transept of the
abbey church.

The <g>Confessional</g> forms a portion of a long rectangular apartment
adjacent to the church, of which the remaining and larger portion is
said to have been the sacristy, and from which the confessional was
separated by a stone wall, the lower part of which still remains.
Besides the entrance from the court, it has a communication with the
adjoining chapter-house. It was here that the penitent, or
should-be-penitent, laid open to the priest his secret failings, and was
instructed in the kind of reparation or the quantity of self-punishment
which was necessary to atone for them. In greater trespasses, or

[Illustration]

where the penitent himself desired it, he was led into the adjoining
chapter-house, and received the monastic discipline at the hands of the
monks, which consisted in a severe flogging on the bare skin--a
punishment which is now only preserved in the army and navy. Great
offenders were at times subjected to this penance. We learn from Matthew
Paris, that when the ferocious Falcasius de Breant, one of King John’s
foreign auxiliaries, had plundered the town and abbey of St. Albans, he
was warned in a dream that he would be pursued by the vengeance of
Heaven, unless he made some reparation to the monks. Falcasius, we are
told, went with some of his most active soldiers to the abbey, where
they suffered themselves to be stripped in the chapter-house; and,
having submitted to the discipline with becoming humility, they received
absolution for their offence. The practice of confession, and the giving
of absolution, were sources of great power to the Romish Church: they
were often made an instrument of benefiting the community, but they were
as frequently productive of great evils, and the facility of obtaining
absolution acted as an encouragement to crime. Among the numerous
stories told by the monks in illustration of the efficacy of confession,
it is related that a knight, who suspected one of his attendants of a
grave crime against his own person, determined to carry him before a
certain wizard, who was famous for laying open people’s hidden faults.
On their way, the criminal, aware of the object of their journey,
requested permission to visit for a few hours a neighbouring town. He
hastened to a religious house, confessed the crime of which he was
accused among his other sins to the priest, received penitence, and
submitted to a very rude application of the monastic discipline. When
they stood before the wizard, and the knight inquired what were the
secret failings of his attendant, the answer he received was--“This
morning, when you left home with him, I knew him well and all his works;
but now he only knows his works who has given him a bleeding back: I
know nothing further.” Confession and absolution were a source of profit
to the priest.

The <g>Sacristy</g> communicates by a door with the south transept of the
church. It is a dark and rather low vaulted room, where the consecrated
vessels and the articles of church furniture were deposited. The
sacristan, whose office is partly represented in the Protestant Church
by that of the humble sexton, was one of the most important personages
in the monastery after

[Illustration]

the abbot. He was the keeper of the books, vestments, and sacred
utensils belonging to the church; it was his duty to attend to the
altars in the church, and to collect and account for the offerings: he
was intrusted also with legacies and gifts for building, repairing, or
furnishing the church. The treasure was also frequently placed in his
keeping; and we read of unfaithful sacristans, who fled from their
abbeys, carrying with them the money which had been intrusted to their
charge.

The sacristy is lighted by two windows, under one larger arch, on the
east side. In the walls are several niches and recesses, which appear to
have been intended to receive some of the articles intrusted to the
sacristan’s care. It was perhaps the traditionary remembrance of the
treasures which were deposited in the sacristy, which led a countryman
in the neighbourhood to dream that there was money concealed in the
wall, beneath the most ornamental of these niches; who, to seek for this
imaginary object, came with a pickaxe, and broke away the bottom of the
niche in the manner in which it now appears. Treasure legends are
generally connected with ancient ruins, and this is not the only story
of the kind which has been located in the Abbey of Netley. On the
internal face of the south wall of the great quadrangle, near its
eastern extremity, is seen an irregular excavation. It is said that,
many years ago, a countryman dreamt of treasure buried in this wall; the
same dream was presented to his imagination three different times, and
he then proceeded with proper implements to the spot. After having
cleared away the wall with assiduous labour, his exertions were
rewarded, as tradition informs us, by the discovery of a ponderous chest
filled with riches, which he bore away in triumph. But the indiscreet
boastings of the finder soon reached the ears of the lord of the manor,
who seized upon the treasure for his own use.

The <g>Chapter-House</g> was the monastic council chamber, and as such, being
one of the most important rooms in the abbey, was also the most richly
decorated. Its delicately-groined roof is entirely destroyed, and trees
grow on its floor; but the elegantly-proportioned arches which adorned
its walls, and the clustered columns which support them, still bear
testimony to its former beauty. This apartment forms a regular square of
thirty-six feet. Each wall is divided into three arches, between which
sprung the ribs of the vaulted roof. Within the three arches on the east
side are the windows, which likewise are more ornamental than those of
the other apartments of the abbey. The extreme arch to the right on the
west wall forms the entrance from the great quadrangle. In the recesses
of the other arches are the remains of the stone seats on which the
monks placed themselves when assembled in chapter to deliberate on the
affairs of the monastery, or when they met to listen to the spiritual or
moral exhortations of their Superior. We have already stated that the
chapter-house was the place in which the discipline, or flogging, was
administered to the unruly brethren and other offenders. The Cistercian
monks are said to have been particularly addicted to the use of the
rod--

    “Est ibi virga frequens, atque diæta gravis.”

The southern wall of the chapter-house divides it from the passage we
have already mentioned as forming the communication between the first
and second courts. This passage forms the separation between those
apartments of the abbey which were devoted to the spiritual concerns of
the brotherhood, and those which were set apart for their bodily
comforts. The chapter-house itself appears to have had no communication
with this passage; but on the opposite side is a door which leads us
into the Abbey <g>Parlour</g>, a room which answers to what is now called in
our colleges the Combination-Room.[231] This parlour, which possesses a
fire-place, was the place of social meeting for the inmates of the
abbey.

The next apartment in the south was the <g>Refectory</g>, hall, or dining-room,
and is the largest room in the abbey. Its windows, like those of all the
chambers in this line of buildings, look to the east. On the opposite
wall we can still trace a large arch, built up with masonry, under which
was perhaps a seat or side-table for the use of the attendants.

Although the monastic rule enjoins strict moderation and silence at
table, yet we know that, from an early period, the monks’ refectory was
no less a scene of mirth and festivity than the baronial hall. The
Cistercian monks in England appear to have been especially noted for
their attachment to good living. The satirists of the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries recount the number and delicacy of their dishes,
and the goodness of their wines. One of these writers, whose work (which
commonly goes under the name of Walter Mapes, the great enemy of the
Cistercian order) enjoyed a vast popularity in the thirteenth century,
describes thus their greediness in eating:--

    “Quibus prandentibus voto præcipiti
     Fauces celerrimæ, dentes solliciti,
     Sepulcrum patens est guttur, par gurgiti
     Spumoso stomachus, et rastris digiti.”

[Illustration]

And he thus describes their evening potations--

    “Sed ne potandi sit illa conditio,
     Qui tenet, teneat, donec de medio
     Fiat, hinc esset lis et contradictio,--
     Ad plenum bibitur sine litigio.

     Tunc legem statuunt pactumque mutuum,
     Ne sit in calice quicquam residuum:
     Sic, sine requie ventris et manuum,
     Vas plenum vacuant, et replent vacuum.”

Another well-known writer, who was no friend of the Cistercians,
Giraldus Cambrensis, has left a glowing description of their jovial mode
of living. The silence enjoined by their statutes had given place to
boisterous jests; and the solemn reading of the bible or saints’
legends, commanded by the founder of the order, had been replaced by the
clang of minstrelsy and the feats and grimaces of the jongleurs.
Giraldus, among innumerable anecdotes of the private life of the
Cistercian monks, has preserved one which is curious not only on this
account, but because it is the groundwork of a numerous class of ballads
which were popular at a later period.[232]

It happened one day that King Henry II. was indulging in hunting, the
favourite amusement of the Anglo-Norman princes, probably in the woods
of Hampshire. Eager in pursuit of the chase, the king was separated from
his companions, and, missing his way, came at night-fall to a house of
Cistercian monks on the border of the wood, and, pretending to be one of
King Henry’s knights, he demanded a lodging there. The abbot and
brethren received the wanderer with a hospitable welcome; and after
supper the former called for a plentiful supply of the choicest liquor
in the abbey. In the merry days of Old England, a particular form in
drinking, derived from our Saxon forefathers, was universally observed:
with each full cup one party pledged the other with the word (or rather
words) _Wæsheil_, equivalent to _Health to thee!_ and the origin of the
more modern _wassail_: the answer was _Drincheil_, or, _I drink thy
health_. But great topers and men of social habits, instead of using the
common expression, invented drinking words of their own, private signals
of affectionate regard, which appear to have had no particular meaning.
Such was the case with the abbot in our story: the supposed knight, in
return for his hospitable entertainment, had promised to use his
influence with the king in furtherance of a suit which the abbot
intended to prefer the next morning; and the latter, in the openness of
his heart, pledged his guest with his private drinking-word, which was
_pril_, and he instructed him in the proper mode of answering, which was
by the similar word _wril_. In this manner they spent a considerable
portion of the night with the monks in great joviality, the walls
resounding to the continual shouts of _pril_ and _wril_. After having
taken a short repose, the king departed at the break of day, and
hastened to a neighbouring town where he had established his court: he
there gave strict orders to the officers of his household, that they
should give the abbot immediate admission to his presence. Accordingly,
at an early hour in the forenoon, the abbot, attended by two of his
monks, repaired to the court, light-hearted with the expectation of the
good offices of his guest of the preceding night. On his arrival, he was
astonished to find that the servants of the king appeared as though
aware of his mission, and that they passed him with unusual quickness
and attention from one room to another, until he found himself suddenly
in the royal presence. The monarch, who in his altered dress was not
recognized by his host, caused the abbot to be seated by his side, and
scarcely giving him time to utter his petition, told him that he had
been made acquainted with his wishes, and that they were already
granted. The abbot, after returning his humble thanks, would have taken
his leave; but the king insisted on retaining him and his two monks to
dinner. At table the abbot was seated near the king, and was treated
with the greatest attention; and after the eating was over, large
drinking-cups were placed before all the guests, and filled with
excellent wine. The king then, suddenly taking up his own cup, and
addressing himself to the abbot, said, “Father abbot, I say to thee
_pril_.” The abbot, suddenly recognizing his guest, was struck with
confusion, and besought the king in humble manner for his grace and
forgiveness; but the king stopped him short, and making use of a popular
oath, declared, that it was his will they should be good fellows
together on the present occasion, just as they had been the previous
night in the abbot’s refectory; and that he thought it but right and
fair, that as he had answered _wril_ to the abbot’s _pril_ before, the
abbot should now pay him the same compliment. And thus the knights and
monks, as well as the king and abbot, passed the remainder of the day in
drinking _pril_ and _wril_ to each other, amid shouts of laughter and
merriment.

Over the series of buildings which we have been describing was another
floor, on which we trace the remains of a number of smaller chambers.
These were probably the <g>Dormitories</g>, or bed-chambers of the monks. They
were placed near the church, because the monks were obliged to leave
their beds in the night to perform the _vigilæ nocturnæ_, or night
service, which lasted from two o’clock to nearly four, when they
returned to their repose.

Adjoining to the hall, or refectory, are the <g>Buttery</g> and <g>Kitchen</g>, which
form the southern extremity of the abbey, separated from the fields only
by the outer wall. The former of these offices is a small room, with
little to indicate the purposes to which it was formerly applied. The
kitchen, on the contrary,

[Illustration]

is a large and strong vaulted apartment, forty-eight feet in length, and
eighteen wide. Its roof still remains unbroken. The most remarkable
characteristic of this kitchen is its spacious fireplace; its form is
that which was common in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and
perhaps earlier, and of which we have many examples in the illuminations
of ancient manuscripts. The kitchen appears to have possessed, when in a
perfect state, a considerable share of architectural elegance. The
ornamental springings of the arches of the roof still remain. The
kitchen appears to have communicated with the inner court of the abbey
by a door to the right of the fire-place; opposite which there seems to
have been a door in the outer wall, communicating with the country, by
which provisions, &c. were conveyed into the house. Two openings in the
wall, one connecting the kitchen with the buttery, the other forming a
communication between the buttery and the refectory, were used for
passing the dishes to the attendants who were serving at table. On the
south side of the kitchen, beneath the floor, is a subterranean passage,
now uncovered, which communicates with a series of other passages or
vaults, under the field, and said to terminate beneath a coppice at a
short distance from the abbey. These vaults, which are generally
supposed to have been a common sewer, or a place intended for
concealment and retreat, have every appearance of having been the
<g>Cellars</g> of the abbey, which very properly were attached to the kitchen
and buttery. Most of these vaults have been explored: there is a large
breach through the vaulted roof of one of them in the field on the
outside of the walls of the abbey.

The series of buildings which we have just described separates the
Fountain Court from the second court of the abbey, which also appears to
have been surrounded with buildings, at least on three sides. This
second court forms at present a fair lawn, on which pic-nic parties
visiting the ruins take their dinner or tea, and which is designated as
the Abbey Garden. On three sides are the remains of a raised terrace:
this, combined with some other circumstances, leads us to conclude that
the so-called garden was the <g>Cloisters</g> of the abbey. The present terrace
was the floor of the cloister, which we know was, in most instances,
raised above the level of the enclosed court. This cloister appears to
have formed an exact square, like the first court. The windows of the
sacristy, chapter-house, parlour, and refectory, looked into it on the
west side. The north-west corner adjoined the transept and choir of the
church. On the south it was probably separated from the kitchen by a
small court, or by less important offices. At the east side of this
court, there are traces of a smaller court, and considerable ruins of a
large building, with vaulted rooms on the ground-floor, and chambers
above. This may have been the <g>Abbot’s House</g>. It appears to have
communicated with the woods behind, perhaps by one of those “privie
posternes” mentioned in the old satirists, by which the abbots are said
to have introduced into their lodgings persons of a very equivocal
character.

The ground on which the Abbey of Netley is built is a gentle declivity,
sloping towards the beach. Although much concealed by trees and
brushwood, the ruins are seen to effect from several different points.
Perhaps the most interesting general view is that from the north, where
the hill rises rather abruptly from the walls of the church, affording
almost a bird’s-eye view of the interior. The effect of the picture thus
presented to the view has been in some degree lessened by the
destruction of the ivy with which, some years ago, the walls were
clothed. “This destruction was begun by the French emigrant royalists
who were encamped on the neighbouring common, previously to the
ill-fated expedition to Quiberon during the revolutionary war; but it
was recently carried on, much more effectually, by order of the late
Lady Holland, then its proprietor, who is said to have been induced to
commit this desecration by the representation of a member of the
Dilettanti Club, who unfortunately had read in Pausanias of the injury
which a certain ancient temple in Bœotia had sustained from the ivy
which encircled it loosening the cement of the stones, and separating
them from each other, and who, in consequence, implored her ladyship to
prevent her temple from sharing a similar fate.”[233] The beauty of the
scene is here increased by the Southampton Water, which appears in the
background, the distant view of the New Forest, and the still more
remote shores of the Isle of Wight; and from time to time a steamer,
working its busy way to or from the sea, contrasts strangely with the
hoary walls below.

Descending the hill towards the right, the view of the west side of the
abbey, with the great west window of the church rising above the green
trees, is remarkably picturesque. To the left the hill continues to some
distance, giving us a succession of pleasing views, including the east
end of the church, and the picturesque mass of ruins which we have
supposed to belong to the abbot’s house. We then descend to lower
ground, and obtain a view across the second, or cloister court, which
however is in some measure spoiled by the wall that separates it from
the fields.

[Illustration]

The <g>South Front</g> of the abbey is at present concealed from a distant view
by numerous trees. When near it, we may judge by its appearance in its
present ruined state, that when entire it must have been a very striking
object viewed from the water. On this side was the entrance to the
abbey, but it does not appear to have had a gateway tower. To the right,
a mass of building stands much in advance of the front of the court:
this building contains the buttery and the kitchen. The style of the
windows and doors in this part of the abbey shows that it had undergone
extensive repairs, either a short period before the Dissolution, or
afterwards, when it was first made a private habitation.

At some distance behind the abbey, the monks had two fish-ponds, which
are still in perfect preservation. The first is nearly square, bordered
with underwood, and backed with flourishing oaks. The upper pond is
still more picturesque, being partly overhung with fine trees. The
neighbourhood of Netley Abbey was perhaps more thickly wooded in ancient
times than at present. In the steward’s book of the town of Southampton,
under the year 1469, is an entry of two pounds three shillings and
fourpence, “paid to the Abbot of Netteley for a grove of woode bought by
the maire for to make piles and hegges by the sea syde.”

The English monks, in selecting the sites of their houses, always
endeavoured to secure a good supply of fish and game. The woods and
waters

[Illustration]

in the neighbourhood of Netley were peculiarly advantageous in this
point of view, and the <g>Buttery</g> and <g>Kitchen</g> must have been abundantly
furnished with every article of provision which could raise the
appetites of the brethren within. The manuscripts of the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries, although written by the monks themselves, are full
of stories illustrating their attachment to good living. Giraldus
Cambrensis, the historian from whom we have already quoted one anecdote
of monastic life, gives us a remarkable description of the multitude and
variety of dishes with which the tables of the monks in his days were
loaded; the numerous kinds of fish and meats dressed in every possible
manner, and arranged by the ingenuity of skilful cooks so as to provoke
their pampered appetites; the numerous savoury sauces; the rich and rare
wines which were supplied by distant lands.[234] This writer has
preserved an amusing story concerning the monks of St. Switlmn’s at
Winchester:--One day, when King Henry II. was hunting in the
neighbourhood of Guilford, the prior of St. Swithun’s, accompanied by a
party of his monks, went to meet him, with countenances which indicated
extreme chagrin and sorrow, and, although the spot was little better
than a quagmire, they fell upon their knees in a position of the most
abject supplication. When the king desired them to state their griefs,
they told him that their bishop had diminished the number of courses
that had been from time immemorial served to their table. The king
inquired what number of courses were usually allowed them: they said,
thirteen, which the bishop had reduced to ten. The king, in
astonishment, turned round to his attendants:--“_Per oculos Dei!_” said
he, (for that was his usual oath,) “see here these unhappy monks! I
thought by their sorrowful looks that their whole monastery had been
burnt, or that some equal disaster had befallen them; and, behold, they
complain that their bishop has taken three courses from their table, and
left them but ten. May the bishop fare the worse, if he do not
immediately take away the ten, and leave them only three! I, although
King of England, am satisfied with that number.” We are told, in another
monkish story, of an abbot who was so cruel to his monks, that he
reduced them to the number here recommended by the king, and allowed
them but three courses: the monks prayed daily for the death of their
superior; and for this or some other cause he soon died. Another came,
who reduced them to two: whereupon they prayed more fervently than ever
for release from his rule. He also died; and there came a third, who
deprived them of another course. The unfortunate brethren, now driven to
desperation, met together to consider what was best to be done. One
among the rest stepped forward and said, “Happen what will, let us pray
no longer: every time we have prayed for a new abbot, we have obtained
one worse than his predecessor; and if this man should go, we shall have
one who will reduce us to actual starvation.” Against the monkish vice
of gluttony, we must however place in the scale the virtue of
hospitality. The weary traveller was always welcome to the table of the
monastery. We are tempted to quote another monkish story. It is said
that a certain religious house, in which the virtue just alluded to had
been neglected, was reduced to poverty, and a meeting was held in the
chapter-house to deliberate on the means of regaining their former
state. Then a monk stood up in the midst of the others, and said, “We
have driven away two servants: as long as they were with us, all good
things abounded in our house; since they went, our prosperity is
defeated; but if we invite one

[Illustration]

back, they will both return.” “Who are they?” said the abbot; “let us
call them back by all means.” The monk answered, “One is called <g>Date</g>,
and the other <g>Dabitur-vobis</g>: since we drove away Date, Dabitur-vobis has
left us; but let us immediately recall Date, and Dabitur-vobis and
everything will be well.” The monks themselves had an easy method of
atoning for the peccadilloes of the table; but a few paces from the
refectory stood the <g>Confessional</g>, and there they received a ready
<g>Absolution</g>.

The ruins of Netley Abbey attract numerous visitors from the
neighbouring town of Southampton; and there is scarcely a stone within
the reach of ordinary mortals which is not disfigured by a crowd of
initials rudely “incised” by their barbarian and sacrilegious hands. In
more propitious times, pilgrims of a holier class have visited the
hallowed spot,

    “Where Netley’s ruins, bordering on the flood,
     Forlorn in melancholy greatness stand.”

Horace Walpole was enraptured with what he terms, “not the ruins of
Netley, but of Paradise. Oh, the purpled abbots; what a spot they had
chosen to slumber in! The scene is so beautifully tranquil, yet so
lively, that they seem only to have retired into the world.” When he
visited Netley, there were standing “fragments of beautiful fretted
roofs, pendent in the air, with all variety of Gothic patterns of
windows topped round and round with ivy.” The last remains of the
“fretted roof” have long fallen; and, as we have before observed, most
of the windows have, since Walpole’s time, been stripped of their ivy.
Among the poets who have here sought inspiration, we must not pass over
the names of Gray and Bowles. The former has left us a glowing
description of the thoughts which these ruins raised. “In the bosom of
the woods,” he tells us in one of his letters, “concealed from profane
eyes, lie hidden the ruins of Netley Abbey. There may be richer and
greater houses of religion, but the abbot is content with his situation.
See there, at the top of that hanging meadow, under the shade of those
old trees that bend into a half-circle about it, he is walking slowly
(good man!) and bidding his beads for the souls of his benefactors,
interred in that venerable pile that lies beneath him. Beyond it (the
meadow still descending) nods a thicket of oaks that mask the building,
and have excluded a view too garish and luxuriant for a holy eye; only
on either hand they leave an opening to the blue glittering sea. Did you
not observe how, as that white sail shot by and was lost, he turned and
crossed himself, to drive the tempter from him that had thrown that
distraction in his way?” We must ourselves now take a parting glance of
this venerable picture of the transitoriness of all earthly greatness.
Bowles has given us a beautiful sonnet


ON VISITING NETLEY ABBEY.

[Illustration]

      “Fall’n pile! I ask not what has been thy fate,--
      But when the weak winds, wafted from the main,
      Through each lone arch, like spirits that complain,
    Come hollow to my ear, I meditate
    On this world’s passing pageant, and the lot
      Of those who once might proudly in their prime
      Have stood, with giant port; till, bow’d by time
    Or injury, their ancient boast forgot,
    They might have sunk, like thee: though thus, forlorn,
      They lift their head, with venerable hairs
    Besprent, majestic yet, and as in scorn
      Of mortal vanities and short-lived cares:
    Even so dost thou, lifting thy forehead grey,
    Smile at the tempest and Time’s sweeping sway.”

<g>Historical Associations.</g>--The neighbourhood of Netley is interesting in
many points of view to the antiquary. At some distance to the north is
the modern village of Bittern, the site of the Roman town of Clausentum,
of the earth-works of which some traces still remain. On Netley Heath,
which lies between Netley and Bittern, are numerous tumuli, probably
indicating the places of burial of some of the more distinguished of the
Roman inhabitants of this spot. We trace the footsteps of that
extraordinary people almost within the precincts of Netley Abbey; for in
its immediate vicinity, in a field by the shore near West Wood, a few
years ago, a coarse earthen vessel, filled with Roman coins of the Lower
Empire, was dug up by a labourer. The larger portion of these coins was
of the description called small brass, and of the period of the younger
Gallienus.

After Clausentum had been deserted and forgotten, its importance was
transferred to the neighbouring town of Hamton, known in more modern
times by the name of Southampton, to distinguish it from the other
Hamton, now called Northampton. During the period of the Saxons,
Southampton is chiefly known as having been repeatedly plundered by the
Danes, to whose attacks it was exposed by its position. In 980, seven
Danish ships came suddenly and destroyed the town, and slaughtered or
carried away into captivity nearly all its inhabitants.

Although we know little of the history of Southampton during this early
period, we find that the district was afterwards connected with
historical traditions, now long forgotten, which found their way into
the <g>poetry</g> of our forefathers. It was here, in the neighbourhood of
Netley, according to the legendary history of the ancient Britons, that
the Emperor Claudius made his descent upon the shores of our island. The
romances tell us that he was met here by a British king named “Gwyder,”
who defeated the Romans with great slaughter. But Claudius had a
faithful councillor named Ham, or Haimo, who clad himself in the arms
and dress of a Briton, went to the enemy’s camp, and, after a short
period, obtained the favour of the invincible Gwyder. Another desperate
battle between the Britons and Romans followed; when Ham, who kept near
the British king, treacherously drew his sword and slew him, and then
fled to the Romans, supposing that he had secured the victory for his
countrymen. But Arviragus, the brother of Gwyder, took the command of
the Britons; and by his bravery the Romans were again vanquished, and
driven with great loss to their ships. Ham, with a small body of men,
was cut off from the main army, and took shelter in a wood near the
shore; he was there attacked by the Britons, and, retreating to a haven,
was slain on the spot where was afterwards built the town called
(according to the legend) from him, Hampton.

    “Ac the luther Haym with ys folk toward the wode hymn drowe:
     Arvirag hym sywede, and to grounde ever slowgh.
     Atte laste ys tricherie wel lutel he by-lowgh;
     He overtok hym at an havene, and slogh hym ryght there:
     Lutel harm thei tricherus so alle y-served were.
     The havene ther he was y-slawe, after Haymys name y-wys,
     Hamptone was y-clepud, as he yet y-clepud ys,
     For South-hamptone he is y-clepud, and worth ever mo.”[235]

So sang the quaint old chronicler, Robert of Gloucester. Legends
probably connected with the ravages of the Danes in this neighbourhood,
and the troubles of the latter ages of Anglo-Saxon history, formed the
foundation of another romance of great popularity. In the baronial halls
of Old England, the harp has often resounded to the chivalrous
adventures of <g>Bevis</g> of <g>Hampton</g>. The figure of the hero may still be seen
rudely sculptured on the antique tower at Southampton, called the
Bargate. History gives us no clue to identify the personage who, in
medieval romance, figures as

    “Bevis of renoun,
     The right heir of Southamptoun.”

But, according to the story, the father of Bevis was a powerful thane,
named Guy, Earl of Hampton, or Southampton. He married a young wife,
who, falling in love with a stranger knight named Doon de Mentz, caused
her husband to be murdered by her paramour, whom she afterwards married.
Young Bevis, by a series of marvellous adventures, escaped from the fate
which had fallen on his father; and, leaving his inheritance to be
enjoyed by the murderer, fled to the east, where he becomes engaged in
no less extraordinary adventures among the infidels. He there falls in
love with a beautiful Saracen maiden, named Josiana, daughter of the
King of Armenie, with whom, after many years’ absence, he returns home.
Bevis and his wife Josiana have a son named Guy. After having recovered
his paternal estates, and punished the murderers of his father, Bevis
becomes involved in a war with his sovereign, the King of England; and,
the king’s son having been killed, he is obliged to fly with Josiana and
his child. On their arrival on the Continent, they seek repose and
shelter in a forest; but, while Bevis is absent in search of food, a
party of pirates arrive and carry away his wife and child. They give
young Guy to a fisherman; and Josiana afterwards escapes unhurt from
their hands. The three are thus separated from each other, and each
passes through a series of adventures in search of the other, which form
a large portion of the romance. Bevis and his wife both arrive at the
court of Armenie, where in her right he succeeds to the crown. But in
the meantime the King of England dies without heirs; and the nobles of
the land decide that Bevis and his son are the next in succession: they
discover the latter at Paris, and offer him the throne. Guy determines
at once to set out in search of his father; and he also arrives at last
in Armenie, where his father is king. When Bevis is thus made acquainted
with the events which had followed his banishment from England, he
resigns the crown of Armenie to his son; and, with his wife Josiana,
returns to his own country, where he is crowned with great ceremony and
splendid festivities. Five years after his accession to the throne of
England, Josiana dies; overcome with chagrin for the loss of his queen,
and tired with the pomp of the world, Bevis leaves his own court, and
retires secretly to a hermitage, where he remains seven years before
the place of his retreat is known. At the end of that period, an angel
discovers it to the King of France, at the moment when Bevis is dying.
Such is the outline of the legend of Bevis of Hampton, than which the
writer of the romance assures us a better was never sung,--

    “Plaist-vous oïr, bonne gent honnorée,
     Bonne chanson de bien enluminée?
     Meilleur de li ne puet estre chantée
     Par jongleour, dite, ne devisée,
     Comme ceste est qui çi vous est contée.”

At a short distance from the town of Southampton is a large tumulus, or
sepulchral mound, which is known by the name of <g>Bevis’s Mount</g>. Some
antiquaries, probably with little reason, have supposed it to be the
remains of an ancient Danish fort. There is another <g>Bevis’s Mound</g> in the
park of Arundel Castle,[236] which is said to be the hero’s grave. His
sword, six feet long, is still preserved at Arundel. Bevis’s Mount, near
Southampton, is now enclosed in the gardens of a gentleman’s seat.

In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, Southampton and its
neighbourhood was a common landing-place for pirates and French
marauders, who infested the southern coast of England. In 1337 a
considerable part of the town was burnt by the French. We have no
information as to the effect which these hostile incursions had upon the
monks of Netley. In recent times, Netley Heath has been more than once
the rendezvous of troops destined for the invasion of France.

Independent of its historical recollections, the <g>neighbourhood</g> of Netley
Abbey is interesting to the visitor for the beauty of its scenery. The
walk from Southampton is extremely agreeable, lying chiefly along the
beach.

[Illustration]

Itchen Ferry, which we must first pass, is now crossed by means of a
moving bridge, worked by a steam-engine. A pleasant winding lane leads
to the shore of the Southampton Water. The path then lies along the edge
of the water, skirted on the left by wooded eminences. After proceeding
a short distance, we arrive at <g>Weston Beach</g>, whence, by a little lane to
the left, we reach the beautiful hamlet of Weston, thickly embedded in
trees. A modern poetess, Miss Mitford, has celebrated the charms of this
rural spot:--

    “Hills which the purple heath-bell shield,
     Forest and village, lawn and field,
     Ocean and earth, with all they yield
         Of glorious or of fair.”

On the beach, a post directs us to the village inn, which is frequented
by fishermen, who form the greater part of the population of the hamlet.
Their boats are frequently seen in considerable numbers at anchor by the
shore.

Pursuing our path along the beach, after a short walk, we arrive at a
lane which conducts us to the entrance of Netley Abbey. Below, on the
water’s edge, lies Netley Castle. The road which we have now entered,
passing in front of the abbey, leads by Netley grange towards Netley
hamlet, and the heaths of Netley and Bursledon. A little farther lie in
succession the picturesque villages of Hound, Bursledon, and Hamble, the
two latter situated on another creek of the sea, larger than the Itchen
water. Leland the antiquary, who visited these parts immediately after
the dissolution of the monasteries, appears to have passed along the
shore in a boat from Portsmouth to Southampton. He gives the following
account of the coast between Hamble and Itchen creek: “Scant a {2} miles
from the mouth of Hamelrise creeke lyithe Letelege, on the shore upward
in the mayne haven. Here a late was a great abbay in building of White
monkes. About a 2 miles upward brekith in a great creeke out of the
mayne haven, and goith into the land by northe. On the lift hand of this
creeke by west a litle from the shore stondith a chapelle of our Lady of
Grace, sumtime hauntid with pilgrimes. Right agayne it is Hichyn, a
smaulle village on the est side, and hereof the _trajectus_ is caullid
Hichin-fery.” The manner in which Leland speaks of Letley, or Netley,
gives strength to the supposition that considerable alterations were
making in the buildings of the abbey at the time of its dissolution, and
accounts probably for some of the traces of modern architecture which
are found in it.

There were several monastic houses situated within a short distance
round Netley Abbey. To the south-east, at a distance of about six miles,
stood the Abbey of Titchfield. Immediately after the dissolution, the
site was granted to Sir Thomas Wriothesley, afterwards created Earl of
Southampton, who erected on the same spot a splendid mansion, which
Leland describes as “a right stately house, embatoled and having a
goodely gate, and a conducte (conduit) castelid in the middle of the
court of it; the very same place where the late monastrie of
Præmonstratenses stoode, caullyd Tichefelde.” The ruins of Titchfield
House are still visible. Besides the religious establishments in the
town of Southampton, at a short distance from the town, to the
north-east of Netley, stood the priory of St. Dionysius. A few miles
beyond Southampton stood the ancient Saxon nunnery of Romsey, the church
of which will repay with interest a visit from the antiquarian wanderer.
Nearly opposite Netley, on the other side of the water, stood the mother
Abbey of Beaulieu, deeply embedded in the wilds of the New Forest.

[Illustration]

<g>Netley Castle</g>, or <g>Fort</g>, is not a building of any considerable antiquity.
The circumstance of its not being mentioned by Leland, proves that it
did not exist before the latter end of the reign of Henry VIII. It is
commonly supposed to have been erected for the purpose of guarding this
part of the shore from invaders. It stands in the midst of a thicket of
trees, on a little hill close to the beach, and forms a striking object
as seen from the water. The tower is a modern addition, built by the
late proprietor, Mr. Chamberlayne, who is said to have taken the idea
from one of Horace Walpole’s letters, who recommended this adjunct to
render the building habitable. The castle itself consists of two small
platforms. Behind the castle stands a neat modern cottage, of an antique
Gothic design, where tea, &c. is prepared for the visitors to the ruins
of Netley Abbey.

One reason of our want of information relating to the early history of
Netley Abbey, is the circumstance that no registers or chronicles of any
monastic houses in this neighbourhood are known to exist. Literature
appears not to have flourished in this part of England. Among the
manuscripts in our great public libraries, but a few can be traced to
any of these monasteries, and we believe none to Netley. Leland mentions
but one book in the library of Netley Abbey, which was a work of Cicero;
but this is far from showing, as it has been supposed, that the library
was ill furnished, because that antiquary only noticed books of a
certain class which he found in the course of his peregrination, and did
not pretend to make an inventory of the contents of the monastic
libraries. Of Romsey Nunnery, the most ancient of the religious houses
we have just enumerated, the history is equally obscure; and the
sisters appear to have been chiefly remarkable for their irregularities.
One of the most remarkable events recorded as connected with this house,
is the circumstance that, in the reign of Henry III., the abbess had to
enforce by law her claim to the privilege of judging and hanging capital
offenders, because, from long disuse, even _her_ gallows had fallen
down. In 1314 or 1315, the Abbess of Romsey was poisoned, and suspicions
appear to have been cast upon the sisterhood. It appears by a
visitation, made in 1506, that the nuns were then accused of immoderate
_drinking_, the lady abbess setting the example by inviting the nuns to
her chamber to participate in her intemperance.

[Illustration: <g>Ground Plan of Netley Abbey.</g>

     EXPLANATION OF THE REFERENCES IN THE <g>Plan</g>.--1. The Entrance Gate,
     loading into, 2, the Fountain Court; 3, 3. Buildings partly
     surrounding this Court, and exhibiting marks of modern alterations;
     4. The Church; 5. The Sacristy; 6. The Confessional; 7. The
     Chapter-House; 8. The Passage leading to the Inner Court; 9. The
     Parlour; 10. The Refectory; 11. The Buttery; 12. The Kitchen; 14.
     The Raised Terrace, or Floor of the Cloister, supposed to have
     surrounded the Inner Court (13); 15. A Ruined Building, supposed to
     have been the Abbot’s Lodgings.
]

     AUTHORITIES:--The Monasticon.--Domesday Book.--Bullar’s Netley
     Abbey.--Keates’ Elegy on Netley Abbey.--Giraldus Cambrensis, and
     the Collections of Monkish Stories.--Leland’s Itinerary and
     Collectanea.--Matthew Paris.--Robert of Gloucester.--The Early
     Romances, &c.




[Illustration]




APPENDIX.


<g>ARUNDEL CASTLE.</g>--<g>King Alfred’s Will.</g>--The portion from which the text is
a translation is thus given in ASSER. DE ÆLFREDI REB. GESTIS, fol. 23:
“Athelmo, _vero fratris mei filio_, do villā de Edingburn et de Cumptune
et de ERUNDELE, et de Bedingn et de Dinghā, et de Burnham, et de
Thumesfelde, et de Aschōgum.”--“Forty-nine Castles are enumerated in
Domesday Book; that of Arundel only as existing in the time of Edward
the Confessor. Many single towers were built during the Heptarchy and by
King Alfred. The Castle of Arundel dates perhaps its true origin from
that monarch.”--Dallaway.

“Fama verò _tota est_ ex castro quod Saxonico imperio floruit; et statim
ab ingressu Normanorum. Rogerum de Montgomericum restaurasse legimus,
qui inde Arundeliæ Comes dictus.”--Camden.

<g>Harold, Earl of Sussex</g>, A.D. 1053.--Ingulph, relating the death of Earl
Godwyn at the royal table, adds “Comitatusque Westsaxoniæ Haroldo filio
suo datus est”--fol. 510, 540. Hardyng, page 229, after his manner
relates the same in two stanzas:--“And as Kynge Edwarde,” &c.

<g>Roger Montgomery</g>, pp. 8, 9.--“Prædictus autem Rogerus de Montegummerici
bello Anglico interfuit, et a Willelmo rege Anglorum Comitatus Arundelli
et Sálopesberiæ dono áccepit.”--Wilhelm. Gemitens. De Ducib. Normannis.
fol. 686. “Rex Gulielmus Rogerio de Monte Gomerici in primis <g>Castrum</g>
Arundellum et urbem Cicestram dedit; cui posteà comitatum Scrobesburiæ
quæ in monte super Sabrinam fluvium sita est, adjecit. Hic sapiens et
moderatus et amator æquitatis fuit, et comitatem sapientum et modestorum
dilexit. Tres sapientes clericos Godebaldum, Odolerium, ac Herbertum,
diutiùs secum habuit; quorum consilium utiliter paruit,”--p. 254.
“Warino autem calvo, carpore parvo, sed animo magno, Aimeriam neptem
suam et Præsidatum Scrobesburiæ dedit: per quem Guallos aliosq’ sibi
adversantes fortiter oppressit, et provinciam totam sibi commissam
pacificavit. Guillelmum cognomento Pantalfum, et Picoldum atque Corbatum
filiosque ejus, Rogerium et Rodbertum, aliosque fideles fortissimosq’
viros comitatui suo præfecit; quorum sensu et viribus benigniter ajutus
inter maximos optimates maximè effloruit.”--Order. Vital. de Guliel.
primo.

His pious retirement from the world and death in the cloisters is thus
related by Orderic--the authority referred to in the text:--“Having by
the hands of Reginald, then Prior of Shrewsbury, obtained from the house
of Cluni, in Burgundy, the coat of St. Hugh, some time abbot there, for
himself to put on, he caused himself to be shorne a monk in the said
Abbey of Shrewsbury, with the consent of his wife; where it is observed
of him, that three days before his death he wholly applied himself to
divine conference and devout prayers with the rest of that convent; and
died on the sixth of the Kalends of August, 1094.”--Baron. i. 28.
“Monachile scema devotus suscepit ... et tribus diebus in colloquiis
divinis et oratione inter servos Dei permaneit. Tandem Kal. Augusti
mortuus est.”--Ord. Vital. p. 708.

<g>Hugh Montgomery</g>, page 9.--The death of this nobleman, as briefly
mentioned in the text, is taken from Giraldus Cambrensis, Itin. Camb. p.
194, and thus rendered by Dugdale, Bar. i. 28. “There is in this island
of Anglesey a church of St. Teuredaucus the Confessor, in which Earl
Hugh, after he had subjugated these parts of Wales, having kennelled his
dogs all night, found them every one mad next morning; and that he
himself died a miserable death within a month thereafter. For hearing
that certain pirates were come to the haven of this island in
long-boats, and making haste to oppose their landing, the principal
commander of them, called Magnus, standing at the fore end of the boat
with a bow in his hand, let flie an arrow at our earl, then armed
_cap-à-pié_, so that no entrance could be made except through his
helmet, at the sights for his eyes; but so fatally was the arrow
directed, that it passed through his head-piece upon his right eye, and
piercing his brain, caused him to fall (from his horse) headlong into
the sea.” Girald. Cambrensis erroneously attributes it to Hugh, Earl of
Chester, but by all other authorities it is related as having occurred
to Hugh Montgomery. Polyd. Virgil. fol. 173, says--“Hugo Comes Salopiæ
obvium factus ex ictu sagittæ periit.” After which, “within a few days,
his body being earned to Shrewsbury, was there buried in the cloister of
the abbey, with great lamentation.”--Dugd. i. 28. Roger Hovedon, fol.
268, mentions his death in nearly the same terms: “Sagitta
percussus--interijt.” Also, Speed, fol. 445.

<g>Mabel</g>, Roger Montgomery’s first wife, was the only daughter, and
heiress, of William Talvace--grandson of Ivo de Belesmo--a person of
great power and note in the time of Richard, Duke of Normandy, with whom
he had a large inheritance. But this lady, says the monk of Utica,
“caused his abbey to be greatly burthened with quartering of soldiers;
for which, and other oppressions exercised towards the nobility, she was
murdered in her bed.” By this wife Earl Roger had issue, as briefly
mentioned in the text, five sons and four daughters:--Robert de Belesme;
Hugh de Montgomery; Roger of Poictou; Philip, a priest; Arnulf, a
soldier of fortune, Lord of Dyvet, now Pembrokeshire, who, like his
father, was liberal in his benefactions to the church. Of his four
daughters, Emma, the eldest, was Abbess of Almanisca; Maud was the wife
of Robert de Moreton, half brother to the Conqueror; Mabel married Hugh
de Novo Castello; and Sibyl became the wife of Robert Fitz-Hamon, whose
name and family have been noticed in our account of Tewkesbury. For his
second wife, Earl Roger espoused Adeliza, daughter of Ebrard de Pusaic,
and by her had issue one son, called after his grandfather Ebrard, who,
entering on a course of ecclesiastical discipline, became one of the
chaplains to King Henry I. Of the Countess <g>Adeliza</g>, a monastic writer
records the following anecdote:--Being on her first passage by sea, from
Normandy to England, there happened so great a storm that the mariners
were in imminent danger of shipwreck. A priest, who was the countess’s
private chaplain or confessor, and attended her in the voyage, being
much wearied with anxiety and watching, fell fast asleep. And lo! while
he slept, there stood before him a comely matron, who addressed him in
these words: ‘If thy lady would be preserved from the danger of this
dreadful tempest, let her vow to God forthwith, that she will build a
church to the honour of Sainte Marie Magdalene in the place where she
shall first meet the Earl Roger, her husband, in England; and especially
where an old hollow oak groweth near a hogstye.’ Now all this, when he
woke up, the priest told to his Mistress, who, gladly accepting
deliverance on such terms, made her vow accordingly; whereupon the winds
were hushed, the sea became tranquil, and she came safely to land with
all her attendants. At length, after several days’ journey to meet her
husband, she found him near Quadford, hunting in the out-forest, at a
certain place where a hollow oak tree, like that described in the
vision, was then growing. Relating to him without loss of time what had
happened, she so prevailed upon him that he agreed to fulfil her vows,
and accordingly built and amply endowed a church in honour of Sainte
Marie Magdalene, and gave it to his collegiate chapel in the Castle of
Bridgenorth, in Shropshire, one of his many lordships. Like the monk who
told his dream to Robert Fitz-Hamon (see Tewkesbury), Adeliza’s
confessor--“monachiliter somniavit”--dreamed to good purpose. It is
truly remarkable, that, so far as the interests of their order were
concerned, these worthy monks always slept with their eyes open--

    “By day with praying, plotting, scheming;
     By night o’er beads and reliques dreaming;
     They still contrived to lay their hand
     Upon the fatness of the land.”

The <g>Fitzalan Family</g>, Text, p. 10.--The account of this Norman family is
taken from that of Dugdale and the monastic writers, on whose report the
genealogy is founded, namely, Ord. Vital., Matth. Paris, &c.; and the
reader who may be curious in such matters, will find the whole subject
fully detailed in the Baronage, i. p. 314, and Monasticon, vol. i., the
sources from which the materials of all the later accounts which we have
seen have been taken.

As progenitors of the royal family of Stuart, the claim is supported by
Chalmers in his _Caledonia_, vol. i. p. 572, 573. Alan, the son of
Flaald, a Norman, acquired the manor of Oswestrie, in Shropshire, soon
after the Conquest--married the daughter of Warine, the famous sheriff
of Shropshire--had two sons, Walter and William. Influenced by the Earl
of Gloucester, the powerful partizan of his sister the Empress Maud,
William seized Shrewsbury in September 1139, and held it for her
interest--attended her at Winchester in 1141--adhered to her interests,
and was rewarded by her son Henry II. By the marriage of his son with
Isabel-de-Say, Clun in Shropshire was added to the Fitzalan estates.
Oswestrie, or Oswaldestre, was the original seat of Alan on the Welsh
border. Lord Hailes acknowledges that Walter (the son of Alan), who
flourished under David I. and his successor Malcolm IV., was indeed the
Stewart of Scotland. John Fitzalan, Lord of Clun and Oswestrie, by
marrying Isabella, second sister of William de Albini, became Earl of
<g>Arundel</g>.

<g>De Albini</g>, p. 9.--William-with-the-Strong-hand.--Dugdale gives the
genealogical history of this family in the work above mentioned, vol. i.
p. 118. The following anecdote, highly characteristic of the age in
which he lived, is narrated with amusing gravity by our old Norroy
king-at-arms, as one of the credible adventures in the life of this
hero:--“I now come,” says he, “to William, who was called
WILLIAM-WITH-THE-STRONG-HAND, in regard that, among his valiant
exploits, he slew a fierce lion, the occasion of which was thus: It
happened that the Queen of <g>France</g>, being then a widow, and a very
beautiful woman, became much in love with a knight of that country, who
was a comely person, and in the flower of his youth: and because she
thought that no man excelled him in valour, she caused a <g>Tournament</g> to
be proclaimed throughout her dominions, promising to reward those who
should

[Illustration]

exercise themselves therein, according to their respective merits; and
concluding, that if the person whom she so affected should act his part
better than others in these military exercises, she might marry him
without any dishonour to herself. Hereupon divers gallant men from
foreign parts hasting into <g>Paris</g>, amongst others came this our William
de <g>Albini</g>, bravely accoutred; and in the tournament excelled all others,
overcoming many, and wounding one mortally with his lance, which being
observed by the <g>Queen</g>, she became exceedingly enamoured of him, and
forthwith invited him to a costly banquet; and afterwards bestowing upon
him certain jewels, offered him marriage. But, having plighted his troth
to the Queen of <g>England</g>, then (also) a widow, he refused her; whereat
she grew so much discontented, that she consulted with her maids how to
take away his life; and in pursuance of that design enticed him into a
garden, where there was a secret cave, and in it a fierce lion, into
which she descended by divers steps under colour of showing him the
beast. And when she told him of his fierceness, Albini merely answered,
‘that it was a womanish, and not a manly quality, to be afraid thereof.’
But having him there, by the advantage of a folding door, she thrust him
into the lion’s den. Being therefore in this danger, he folded his
mantle about his arm, and putting his hand into the mouth of the beast,
pulled out his tongue by the root; which done, he followed the <g>Queen</g> to
her palace, and gave it to one of her maids to present to her.”--On his
return to England, the lion was given him for his arms, and he was
thenceforward distinguished as “William-with-the-Strong-hand.”
Commenting on this marvellous portion of Albini’s adventures, Vincent
expresses regret that the hero did not, when once in, thrust his hand
further, so as to catch the lion by the tail and “turn him inside
out”--an operation which would certainly have been an improvement on the
other, as well as an agreeable addition to the family arms. This valiant
act was afterwards, it appears, revived by a royal crusader, and with
still better success; for _he_ extracted the ‘lion’s heart at a grasp!’

Text, p. 9. “Illa (Adeliza), rege defuncto, Gulielmum de Albineto in
maritum assumpsit, qui cū Matildi Augustæ contrà Stephanum regem
studeret, et hoc castrum contrà illum propugnaret, in navatæ operæ
præmium Arundeliæ Comitis titulum, à Matilde Augusta Anglorum domina
(hoc enim usa est titulo) accepit: cùmq’ post _quartum_ ab eo comitem,
proles ejus mascula deficeret, Richardum Fitzalanum jure uxoris in eum
honorem evexit Rex Edwardus Secundus,” &c. With respect to the _fourth_
Earl, Brooke, in his “discoveries,” has stated objections, p. 32, 33.

With respect to the part taken by Albini subsequent to his marriage with
Adeliza, queen dowager, on the part of the Empress Maud, her son, and
King Stephen at Wallingford--as well as the embassy in which he took the
lead--as mentioned p. 42, Dugdale has condensed the particulars under
the head of “Will. de Albini Pincerna,” i. 118, as well as all others of
any importance respecting the descent of the Castle of Arundel through
the families of the Fitzalans and Howards. Albini is thus complimented
in the old Rhyming Chronicle; and the orthography shows the
pronunciation in that day:--

    ¶ Wyllyam, the Earle of Arundell that hyght,
    _Awbeny_ (Albini) by his surname full well then knowe,
    At Wimondham, in Northfolke buryed ryght,
    Father was of Philyp full yonge unknowe
    [That full courteous was both to hye and lowe]
    That after him was Earle of Arundell,
    As Chronycles wryten can clerely tell. P. 273.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

<g>Robert de Belesmo</g>, Text p. 9.--“Supradictus Comes Robertus de Belesmo
qui comitatum etiam Pontinensis pagi rexit eo tempore, ac in Normannia
Castella possedit quam plurima; civitatem Scrobesbiriam et castellum in
ea situm, castella quoque <g>Arundel</g> et Tikehil, alimentis machinis, armis,
militibus, et peditibus contra regem Henricum fortiter munivit. Muros
quoque, ac tunes castellorum, videlicet Brige et Carracoue, die noctuque
operando perficere modis omnibus festinavit.... At Rex sine delatione
Castellum ejus <g>Arundel</g> primitùs obsedit, et castellis ante illud
firmatis, recessit; deinde Robertus Lindicolniæ civitatis episcopum cum
parte exercitûs Tykehil obsidere jussit. Illè autem Brige cum exercitu
penè totius Angliæ obsedit, machinas quoque ibi construere et castellum
firmare præcepit. Interim Walanos, &c. Infra igitur triginta dies
civitate et omnibus castellis redditis inimicum suum <g>Robertum</g> superavit
etignominiosè de Anglia expulit.”--Hov. Annal. Hen. pr. 269.

Text p. 39.--“Junior Wilhelmus anno decimo regni sui cū Normanniam, quam
à Roberto fratre suo ad Jerusalem profecto, in vadimonium acceperat pro
libitu suo disposuisset, redijt ad Vigiliam Paschæ in Angliam, appulit
apud <g>Arundel</g>.”--Henric. Huntingd. lib. vi. p. 216.

<g>King Stephen</g>, p. 38.--“Statim namque filia regis Henrici, quæ fuerat
Romanorum imperatrix, cui Anglia juramento fuerat addicata, venit in
Angliam; quam cum Rex Stephanus obsedisset apud <g>Arundel</g>, vel perfida
credens consilia, vel quia castrum videbat inexpugnabile, ire permisit
ad Bristowe.”--Hoved. Steph. Rex. fol. 278.

<g>The Empress Maud</g>, p. 41.--Holinshed, on the authority of Polydor,
relates a “scandalous story” affecting the character of this lady,
which, if true, robs William de Albini of the credit so generally given
him, for having been the pacificator between King Stephen and young Duke
Henry. It is very quaintly told by the old chronicler, p. 63, and by
Polydor. Verg. lib. xij.:--“Sunt qui tradunt aliam fuisse causam qua
Stephanus flexus sit ad pacem, qui referūt Mathildē amicā potius q’
inimicā Stephani fuisse, et eam, cum videret rem inter ipsum Stephanū et
Henricū filiū eò deductā, ut armis finienda esset, clàm ad Stephanū
adivisse atq’ sic eum allocutā: Ecquid, impie ac tui generis immemor,
facere tētas? Decet ne patrem perdere filiū? an fas est ut filius patrem
occidat? Amabo te, des locum iræ, projiciasq’ tela manu, nā Henricū, uti
probè scis, ex te enixa sum! Et his dictis, ordine cōmemorasse quem
admodum paullo antèq’ Gaufredo nuberet, ab eo compressa fuisset; ac ijs
verbis Stephanū motū pacē fecisse.”

[Illustration]

<g>Syr Bevis</g>, Text 37.--For the groundwork of the following legend, as
connecting Sir Bevis with Arundel Castle, we are indebted to a lady
resident near the spot. Sir Bevis, as noticed, p. 326, is familiar to
every reader of romance; and the traditional history of his prowess has
often been heard at the baron’s hearth, when the spirit of chivalry was
fanned by the approving smile of beauty, and the sound of the harp
sweetened the intervals of repose.

    “O, who has not heard of <g>Bevis</g> the Bold?
     Whose sword was the theme of harpers old;
     Compared with which, like a willow-wand
     Was the sword that gleamed in Paynim hand.
     And oft through the Pagan’s steely array,
     For the Cross of St. George, it had cleft his way.

       Syr Bevis was stout of heart and limb:
     And his meekest look was so stern and grim,
     That even his squire grew deadly pale,
     As he buckled for battle Syr Bevis’ mail!
     And wherever for knightly feats he went,
     Equipped for battle or tournament,
     His very shadow refused to stay,
     And shrunk like a craven thing away.
     So fierce and fell was the hero’s stroke,
     ’Twould have cleft at a blow the forest oak;
     While around him heads of Saracen lay,
     Paving with helms Syr Bevis’ way.

       But at length, in old Arundel’s Castellan,
     When chilly and slow the life-blood ran,
     And he bask’d his old frame in its evening sun,
     And dreamed o’er the battles his youth had won;
     As musing he sat on yon battled keep,
     O’erlooking the forest and distant deep--
     Come, bring me,’ quoth he, ‘my trusty sword!’
     And swiftly his squire obeyed the word.
     Then swift from his seat Syr Bevis sprung,
     And thrice round his head the blade he swung--
     ‘Now mark me well,’ said the chief, ‘and obey
     The command I leave, and the word I say:
     Where ye find again this trusty glaive,
     There hollow the ground for Bevis’s grave!
     For my eyes wax dim and my blood runs cold,
     And my heart of life hath lost its hold.’

       He said: and fleet from his hand he threw
     The deadly weapon so tried and true;
     And away--as impelled by some nameless charm--
     Like a shaft that’s shot by a wizard’s arm;
     Away the falchion glanced, and fell
     In the depth of Pugh’s deserted dell.--
     That night there was mass for a parted soul;
     At St. Martin’s gate there was Christian dole;
     Where priest and vassal the dirge began,
     For <g>Syr Bevis</g> the warlike Castellan!

       Then they searched the shadowy forest round,
     And they hollowed a grave where the sword was found;
     And there they have laid each stiffened limb
     Of the brave Syr Bevis, the wise and grim.
     Where at noon the trooping deer convene,
     Where at night the timid hare is seen,
     Where the monk of St. Lazarus counts his beads,
     They have laid him down in his warrior’s weeds;
     They have monks to chant, and bells to toll--
     And all for the rest of Syr Bevis’ soul.

       Now ye who visit that haunted dell,
     To count your beads in St. James’s cell,
     Or haply to slay Montgomery’s deer,
     Tread light on the ashes that slumber here.”

The anecdote related at p. 40 of the text, is thus told in the Latin of
Father Matthew of St. Albans, p. 853:--“A.D. 1252. Tempore quoque sub
eodem domino rege adhuc moram Londini continuante, venit ad eum in
cameram suam Isabella, comitissa Harundelliæ, relicta Comitis
Harundelliæ H. et ejusdem regis cognata; ut pro jure suo de quadam
custodia ipsam contingente verba faceret sibi profectura. Rex autem
vultum ei primò protendens serenum, posteà cum verbis asperioribus
objurgans, nihil quod postulavit comitissa favorabiliter exaudivit;
vindicavit enim sibi rex custodiam cujusdam custodiæ ratione particulæ,
ipsum regem contingentis. Unde ipsa comitissa, licèt mulier, non tamen
muliebriter respondit imperterrita. ‘O domine rex quare avertis faciem
tuam à justitia? Jam in curia tua quod justum est nequit impetrari,
medius inter Dominum et nos constitueris; sed nec teipsum nec nos sanè
regis, nec ecclesiam veritus es multipliciter perturbare; quod non
tantum in presentiarum, sed multoties est experta. Nobiles insuper regni
modis variis vexare non formidas vel erubescis.’ Quod cùm audîsset rex,
corrugans nares et subsannans, voce dixit elevata: ‘Quid est hoc, ô
domina Comitissa? Confeceruntne Magnates Angliæ Chartam, et pepigerunt
tecum, ut fieres eorum quia eloquens es, advocata, et prolocutrix?’ Ad
quod comitissa, licèt juvencula non tamen juveniliter respondit:
‘Nequaquam mihi, domine, regni tui primates chartam confecerunt; sed tu
chartam, quam confecit pater tuus, et tu eam concessisti, et jurasti
observare fideliter et irrefragabiliter, et multoties ut eam observares
à fidelibus tuis pecuniam de libertatibus observandis eorum extorsisti,
sed tu semper eis impudens transgressor extitisti. Unde fidei læsor
enormis, et sacramenti transgressor manifestus esse comprobaris. Ubi
libertates Angliæ toties in scripta redactæ, toties concessæ totiesque
redemptæ? Ego igitur, licèt mulier, omnesque indigenæ et naturales ac
fideles tui appellamus contrà te antè tribunal tremendi Judicis: et
erunt nobis testes cœlum et terra, quoniam iniquè nimis nos tractus
insontes, et nos Deus ultionum dominus ulciscatur.’ Ad hæc Rex siluit
confusus, quia dictante propria conscientia cognovit, quoniam a tramite
veritatis non exorbitavit Comitissa, et ait: ‘Nonne postulas gratiam eò
quòd mihi cognata sis?’ At illa: ‘Ex quo mihi quod jus expostulat
denegâsti, quo modo spem concipiam, ut mihi gratiam facias postulanti?
Sed et contra illos ante faciem Christi appello, qui te fascinantes et
infatuantes consiliarii tui sunt, et te à via veritatis avertunt, suis
tantummodo commodis inhiantes.’ His igitur auditis Rex siluit, satis
civiliter redargutus.”

<g>Knighthood</g>, p. 45.--The grand festival mentioned in the text is thus
described by Matthew of Westminster; and in Anstis’ Order of the Bath,
p. 12:--“The king, to render his expedition into Scotland more splendid
and numerous, caused proclamation to be made throughout England, whereby
all persons entitled or compellable to take knighthood by right of
hereditary succession, that is, by lands descended to them, or who had
estates sufficient to support that degree, were required, on the Feast
of Pentecost, to attend at Westminster, where every one of them should
receive severally out of the king’s wardrobe, at the king’s expense, all
things belonging to the habit of knighthood, except what related to the
furniture of his horse (or armour for such knight). At the time and
place appointed, there was an appearance of three hundred young
gentlemen, sons of earls, barons, and knights, to whom was distributed
in ample measure, according to their different qualities, purple, fine
linen, furs, and mantles embroidered with gold; and because the Royal
Palace, though spacious, was not of extent sufficient to accommodate so
great a number, they repaired to the <g>New Temple</g>, where they erected
tents and pavilions, having first cut down the trees in the orchard, and
levelled the walls of it, that they might separately and more
commodiously dress themselves in their splendid habits. That night as
many of them performed their vigils in the Temple Church as the place
would well contain; but the Prince of Wales, by command of the king his
father, kept his vigils in the Church of Westminster, with some other
persons of the first dignity. There the noise of trumpets and pipes was
so great, and the acclamations of the people so loud and extended, that
the voices in one choir could not be distinctly heard in another. On the
day following, the king invested his son with the military belt, and
consigned to him the Duchy of Aquitain. The prince, being knighted, went
to the Church of Westminster, that he might confer the like military
honour on his companions; there the press, occasioned by a promiscuous
concourse of people, was so great before the high altar, that two
knights were stifled, and several fainted away; for every knight had at
least three other knights to conduct and support him. But the prince was
obliged, by reason of the tumultuous crowd, to invest his companions
upon the high altar, having, by his guards, made way for them to pass
through the people. Then were brought and presented two <g>Swans</g>,
introduced with much pomp, and covered with golden nets, adorned and
embossed with golden studs, a solemnity highly grateful to the
spectators. The king offered a vow to God, upon the presentation of the
<g>Swans</g>, that he would make a descent upon Scotland, with a design,
whether he should live or die in the attempt, to revenge the death of
John Comyn, and the violated faith of the Scots, &c.

“In the celebration of this great festival there is a particular
article, which is thus explained:--A vow, made upon the exhibition
before-mentioned of two swans, in conformity to an usage continued for
some ages; according to which, when any hostile expedition was intended,
the commanding prince formally and solemnly bound himself to execute it,
upon the oblation of some bird, as a visible test or signal of such
engagement.”

Page 62.--In the letter here quoted--supposed to have been the last ever
written by Norfolk, on the eve of Bosworth Field--the duke directs his
well-beloved friend, John Paston, to bring with him such company of tall
men, and “ordain them jackets of my livery.” The Duke of Norfolk’s
livery, on the authority of Fenn, was particoloured of blue and tawny--a
yellowish dusky brown orange colour--having the left side of the former
of these, and the right side of the latter, and both dark shades of
their respective colours.

[Illustration]

[Illustration] <g>ST. ALBAN’S ABBEY.--Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.</g>--The
anecdote of this worthy, referred to in the text, is thus told by
Grafton in his Chronicles, ii. 630:--“This Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester,
descending of the blood royal, was not only noble and valyant in all his
actes and doings, but sage, politique, and notably well learned in the
ciuile law. And among his other worthy prayses, this followyng is not to
be forgotten, which most liuely and plainley declareth him to be both
prudent and wyse, and to his great laude and prayse is written, and set
forth by Sir Thomas Moore, knight, in this wyse following:--‘In the
reign of King Henry the Sixt,’ saith he, ‘there came to the towne of
<g>Sainct Albons</g> a certaine beggar with his wyfe, and there was walkeng
about the towne begging fiue or six dayes, before the kinges comming
thether; sayeing that he was born blinde, and never sawe in all his
lyfe, and was warned in hys dreme that he should come out of Berwike,
where he saide that he had ever dwelled, to seke Sainct Albon, and that
he had been at hys Shrine, and was not holpen, and therefore he would go
seeke him at some other place: for he had heard some saye sinse he came,
that Sainct Albons body should be at Colyn (Cologne), and indede such a
contention hath there bene. But of a truth, as I am certainly informed,’
sayth Sir Thomas Moore, ‘he lyeth here at Sainct Albons, saveing some
reliques of him which theye there shewe shryned. But to tell you foorth,
when the kinge was come, and the towne full of people, sodainely this
blinde man at Sainct Albones Shryne had his sight, and the same was
solemnly rong for a miracle, and _Te Deum_ songen; so that nothing was
talked of in all the towne but this _miracle_. So happened it then, that
Duke Humffrey of Gloucester, a man no lesse wise than also well learned,
having great joy to see suche a miracle, called the poore man unto him,
and first shewyng himself joyous of God’s glorie, so shewed in the
getting of hys sight, and exhorting him to meeknesse, and to no
ascrybing of any part of the worship to himselfe, not to be prowde of
the people’s prayse, which would call hym a good and a godlie man
thereby. At last he looked well upon his eyen, and asked whether he
could ever see any thing at al, in all hys lyfe before. And when as well
hys wyfe as himselfe affirmed fastlie ‘No!’ then he looked advisedly
upon hys eyen agayne, and sayde, ‘I beleue you very well, for methinketh
that ye cannot see well yet.’ ‘O yes, Sir,’ quoth he, ‘I thanke God and
his holy martir, I can see now as well as any man.’ ‘You can,’ quod the
duke; ‘what colour is my gowne?’ Then anon the beggar tolde hym. ‘What
colour,’ quod he, ‘is this man’s gowne?’ He told him also, without anye
stayeng or stombling, and told the names of all the colours that coulde
be shewed. And when the duke sawe that he bade him, walke faytoure, that
is to say, vagabond; and made him to be set

[Illustration]

openly in the stockes: for though he could have seen sodaynely, by
miracle, the difference betwene dyvers coloures, yet could he not by
sight so sodainely tell the names of all these coloures, except he had
knowne them before, no more than he coulde name all the men whom he
should sodainely see.’ Thus far Maystir Moore.” Reference has been
already made to the play in which Shakspeare has made use of the above,
as the ground of a very amusing dialogue, into which he has infused much
additional humour; and thus concludes:--

    “_Glo._ Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lying’st knave
     In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,
     Thou might’st as well have known our names, as thus
     To name the several colours we do wear.
     Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenly
     To nominate them all’s impossible.
     My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle;
     And would ye not think that cunning to be great
     That could restore this cripple to his legs again,” &c.

Gloucester accordingly advises the application of the whip, and finds
that the cripple is suddenly transformed into an athlete, with the full
and free use of his limbs. Such were the devotees usually met with in
places of pilgrimage--and such the miracles that obtained ready belief
in the vulgar mind.

The Priory of Tinmouth in Northumberland was a cell of St. Alban’s
Abbey. “One Simon of Tinmouth claimed a right to two corodies, or the
maintenance of two persons in the priory; but which the prior and monks
denied. This cause was brought before the Abbot of St. Alban’s and his
Court-baron, who appointed it to be tried by combat on a certain day
before him and his barons. Ralf Gubion, prior of Tinmouth, appeared at
the time and place appointed, attended by his champion, one William
Pegun, a man of gigantic stature. The combat was fought. Pegun was
defeated, and the prior lost his cause; at which he was so much
chagrined, that he immediately resigned his office.” This judicial
combat is the more remarkable, that it was fought in the court of a
spiritual baron, and that one of the parties was a priest.

[Illustration] <g>ELTHAM HALL</g>, p. 111.--It was whilst residing at his
Palace of Eltham that King Richard II. resolved upon the murder of the
Duke of Gloucester. “Unable,” says Froissart, “to conceal any longer the
great hatred he bore to his uncle, he determined to have him cut off
according to the advice given him, namely, that ‘it was more advisable
to destroy than to be destroyed.’ Accordingly, the king having rode to
the Castle of <g>Pleshy</g>, about thirty miles from London, with fair words
cajoled the duke out of his castle, and was attended by him to a lane
that led to the Thames, where they arrived between ten and eleven
o’clock at night. Here the Earl-Marshal, who there lay in ambush,
arrested him in the king’s name, and forced him towards the Thames in
spite of his cries to the king to deliver him. He was conscious, from
the moment of his being thus arrested, that his end was resolved on; and
it was confirmed to him by the king turning a deaf car to his
complaints, and riding on full gallop to London, where he lodged that
night in the Tower. The Duke of Gloucester had other lodgings; for
whether he would or not, he was forced into a boat that carried him to a
vessel at anchor in the Thames, into which he was compelled to enter.
The Earl-Marshal embarked also with his men, and having a favourable
wind and tide, they fell down the river, and arrived late on the morrow
evening at Calais, without any one knowing it but the king’s officers.
The Earl-Marshal, as governor, could enter Calais at all hours, without
any one thinking it strange: so he carried the duke to the castle, and
there placed him in confinement.... In the meantime King Richard,
leaving the Tower at an early hour, rode to his palace of <g>Eltham</g> and
there remained; while the same day toward evening, the Earls of Arundel
and Warwick were both brought to the Tower and there confined, to the
great surprise of the citizens. But to return to Calais: When the Duke
of Gloucester saw himself shut up in the castle, abandoned by his
brothers, and deprived of his attendants, he began to feel alarmed; and
addressing himself to the Earl-Marshal--‘For what reason,’ he inquired,
‘am I thus carried from England, and confined here? Do you mean to
retain me a close prisoner? Let me go and view the castle, the garrison,
and the people of the town.’ ‘My lord,’ replied the earl, ‘I dare not
comply with your demands; for you are consigned to my guard, under pain
of death. The king, our lord, is at this moment somewhat wroth with you;
and it is his orders that you abide here awhile in banishment with us,
which you must have patience to do until we have other news, and God
grant that it may be soon! for as the Lord liveth, I am truly concerned
for your disgrace, and would cheerfully aid you if I could;

[Illustration]

but knowing the oath I have taken to the king, you know I am bound in
honour to obey.’ This was the only answer the Duke of Gloucester could
obtain; he too well judged from appearances, that his life was in
jeopardy; and asked the priest who had said mass, if he would confess
him. This he did with great calmness and resignation; and with a devout
and contrite heart, cried before the altar of God, the Creator of all
things, for his mercy and forgiveness. He was repentant of all his sins,
and lamented them greatly. He was right thus to exonerate his
conscience, for his end was nearer than he imagined: for being on the
point of sitting down to dinner, while he was washing his hands, four
men rushed suddenly out from an adjoining chamber, and, throwing a towel
round his neck, strangled him by two drawing one end and two the other.
When he was quite dead they carried him to his chamber, undressed him,
and placed the body between two sheets with his head on a pillow, and
covered him with furred mantles. They then re-entered the hall, properly
instructed what to say and how to act, and declared that the Duke of
Gloucester had been seized with an apoplexy as he was washing his hands
before dinner, and that they had great difficulty to carry him to bed.
This was the report published in the garrison and the town, where some
believed it, and others not. Within two days after, it was published
abroad that the duke had died in his bed at the Castle of Calais; and in
consequence the Earl-Marshal, who was the duke’s near relation, put on
mourning, as did all the knights and squires in the town of Calais.” As
to the manner of his death, it appears by the confession of Hall, one of
the accomplices, that the duke was smothered with pillows, not
strangled, as Froissart was informed.

[Illustration] <g>TEWKESBURY</g>, p. 167.--By papers in the Bodleian Lib. Hist.
of Tewkesb. 107, 1574, it appears, that on the twenty-fourth of July,
being fair day, such a quantity of bats came floating down the river
Avon, at Tewkesbury, that they covered the surface of the water for
above a land’s length, in heaps above a foot thick, which so dammed up
the mills for three days, that they could not go till the bats were dug
out with shovels!

Page 189, A.D. 1578.--In the churchwardens’ book of accounts for this
year, are the items here annexed:--“Payd for the plaiers geers six
sheepskins for Christ’s garments,” ibid. 1585. “Order eight heads of
hair for the Apostles, and ten beards, and a face or visor for the
Devel,”--which show that mysteries, as plays were then called, were
probably acted in the churches. In Italy the practice is still kept up,
as every traveller in that and other parts of the Continent has
observed; particularly during the Christmas festival, when nearly every
church and convent have exhibitions of the Saviour’s birth, and the
miraculous circumstances attending it.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration] <g>KENILWORTH CASTLE</g>, p. 211.--Thomas de la Moore, in his
Life and Death of Edward II., relates the following, as part of the
cruel and insulting treatment to which the unhappy sovereign was
subjected by his keepers, on leaving Kenilworth for Berkeley Castle. It
is of a serio-comic nature; but no reader who ever held a razor, but
will sympathize with the wretched monarch in his stipulations for at
least the indulgence of _warm water_, under such an
operation:--“Attestamur et scribimus quæ luce clariora innotuerunt
mundo, si non timor æmulorum regis devotissimi adhuc superstitis clarere
prohiberet, quæ non poterint occultare. Tum abducitur Edwardus (ut
præscriptum est) versus Berkleyam à satrapis Sathanæ equitans stipatus,
duxerunt etiam exemplar patientiæ per grangias Castri Bristollii, ubi de
fœno factam coronam capiti jumdudum oleo sancto consecrato imposuit
nefarius ille de Gorney, ausus contingere Christum Dei, cui illudentes
ironia nimis acerba milites dixerunt, _Fareforth Syr Kynge_. Metuentes
maligni, ne pariter directè incedentibus obuiaret aliquis amicus Edwardi
et manus misericors ipsum liberatura, declinauerunt ad Smischam per
mariscum ad flumen Sabrinæ terminatum. Excogitârunt inimici Dei quomodo
Edwardum deformarent, ne foret facilè notus. Vnde cauariem et barbam
radendas cōstituerunt. Venientes proinde in itinere ad fossam, iusserunt
ipsum radendū descendere. Cui assidenti super cujusdam talpæ monticulum
pelvim aqua frigida de fossa recepta attulit barbitonsor. Cui et aliis
asserentibus quod aqua talis pro tune deberet sufficere, ait
Edwardus--_Velitis, nolitis, habebimus pro barba aquas calidas_; et ut
promissum consequeretur veritas, cepit profuse lachrymare. Ita mihi
retulit viuens post magnam pestilentiam Gulielmus Bischop, qui
ductoribus Edwardi sodalis, unde confessus et contritus pœnituit, sub
spe misericordiæ divinæ.”--P. 602, edit. Francofort.

       *       *       *       *       *

    “This Kyng Herolde at Waltam, which he found,
     Of foure score chanons, full fayre was buryed
     At the hye aulter, and as a kyng was crownde,
     All yf he were intrusor notifyed,
     And in batayl slayne and victoryed,
     Of gentylnesse the Conquerour bad so
     As yf he were afore his mortall fo.”--Hardyng, 3234.

[Illustration] <g>WALTHAM.--Death of Harold</g>, Text, p. 266.--“Ipse carens
omni decore quibusdam signis nequaquam facie recognitus est, et in
castra Ducis delatus qui tumulandum eum Guillelmo agnomine Maletto
concessit, non matri pro corpore delectæ prolis auri par pondus
offerenti.” The quantity of gold which Harold’s mother is here related
to have offered to the victorious duke for the body of her son, may be
reasonably estimated, as Maseres has shown in a note on this passage of
the “Gesta Guillelmi,” at eleven thousand pounds. The supposed visit of
Harold’s mother to the field of battle in search of his body, and that
of Edith with the Swan’s neck--mentioned in the text, who finally
discovered it by some secret token--are thus described in a MS. ballad
on the subject:--

    “The day is lost! The din of war is hushed on Hastings’ field:
     In triumph rolls the Norman car o’er England’s trampled shield.
     ‘Prepare the feast!’ Duke William cries. The midnight feast is spread;
     And there, in gilded canopies, they banquet ’midst the dead!
     The bowl is drained, the oath renewed of fealty to their Chief;
     But how shall gilded tents exclude the wail of woman’s grief!
     ‘Where is my son?’ a mother cries; ‘his corse but to behold,
     And lay it where his kindred lies, I’ll give its weight in gold!’
       ‘Thy son is slain! his crown is sold! Duke William wears it now;
     We’ll give thee iron for thy gold--Lady, what more would’st thou?’
       She heard and wept--then faltered on: her heart with anguish bled,
     As wistfully she gazed upon the faces of the dead!
     But ’midst the thousand forms of death that show’d the ghastly wound.
     And weltering strew’d the gory heath, her HAROLD was not found!
     She sat her down and wept aloud: and sighed--‘Undone--undone!
     Now lay me in the hallowed shroud that should have wrapt my son!’

           *       *       *       *       *

     At length the gentle Edith came, led by a holy man,
     And, lighted by a taper’s flame, again the search began.
     Darkly her raven tresses hung upon her neck of snow,
     And still her lily hands she wrung in ecstacy of woe!
     Around her, HAROLD’S warriors true lay heaped upon the plain,
     Where high the Norman banner flew insulting o’er the slain;
     A friar of Waltham’s Holy Rood stood in that mournful ring,
     And wiping off the clotted blood--‘Oh, Christ! is this the king?’
     Down to the earth fair Edith bent, upraised the lifeless head,
     And ’neath the light that taper lent, gazed wildly on the dead!
     One pause of fearful agony--a breathless, deep suspense--
     Was visible in every eye, and felt in every sense!

[Illustration]

    There, like a cedar in his pride struck down, a warrior lay;
    And here extended at his side a chieftain’s proud array.
    They scann’d his features o’er and o’er, but ’wildered was their view,
    Until the secret mark appeared, which Edith only knew--
    And then a shrill and piercing shriek the fearful truth confess’d,
    The hue of death was on her cheek--she sunk upon his breast!
    But Harold’s lip and Harold’s eye, in cold forgetfulness
    For ever sealed, made no reply to Edith’s frantic kiss.
    Oh, must I see thee thus, and live? Yet Heaven be witness here,
    How gladly would thy Edith give her bosom for thy bier!’”

           *       *       *       *       *


           *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration] <g>ROCHESTER CASTLE.</g>--Anno dominicæ incarnationis DCCCI.
nativitatis autem Ælfredi regis xxxiv. exercitus in duas turmas divisit.
Una etenim turma in orientalem Franciam perrexit; et altera ad
Britanniam veniens, Cantium adiit; civitatemq’, quæ Hrofceastre Saxonicè
dicitur, in orientali ripa fluminis Medwæg sitam obsedit. Ante hujus
portam pagani Castellum ibimet firmum subitò fabricauerunt. Nec tamen
illam civitatem expugnare potuerunt; quia cives illi se viriliter
defenderunt, quousque Ælfred rex cū magno exercitu adiutorium illis
conferens superuenit. Et tunc pagani relicta arce sua et omnibus equis,
quos de Francia secum adduxerant derelictis; maxima parte nec non
captiuorum suorum in arce dimissa adueniente subitò rege, ad naues suas
confestim confugiunt. Et Saxones statim derelictos à paganis captiuos et
equos diripiunt.--Asser. de Ælfred. Reb. Gest. fol. 11.

[Illustration] <g>CARISBROOKE CASTLE</g>, p. 284.--Of the circumstances
mentioned in the text, the following is the relation given by the
learned monk already quoted:--“Rogerius verò de Britolio, Comes
Herefordensis ad curiam regis vocatus venit, et inquisitus manifestam
toti mundo proditionem negare non potuit. Igitùr secundùm _leges
Normanorum_ judicatus est, et amissa omni hæreditate terrena, in carcere
Regis perpetuò damnatus est. Ibi etiam Regi multoties detraxit, et
contumacibus actis, implacabiliter offendit. Nam quondam, dum plebs Dei
Paschale festum congruè celebraret, et Rex structum preciosarum vestium
Rogerio Comiti per idoneos satellites in ergastulo mitteret; ille pyram
ingentem antè se jussit præparari, et ibidem, Regalia ornamenta,
chlamydem sericamq’ interulam, et renonem de preciosis pellibus
peregrinorum _murium_ subitò comburi. Quod audiens Rex iratus dixit:
‘Multùm superbus est qui hoc mihi dedecus fecit; sed, _per splendorem
Dei_, de carcere mea in omni vita mea non exibit.’ Sententia regis tàm
fixa permansit, quòd nec etiam post mortem Regis ipse, nisi mortuus, de
vinculis exiit. Rainaldus et Rogerius filii ejus, optimi tirones,
Henrico Regi famulantur et clementiam ejus--quæ tardissima iis visa
est--in duris agonibus præstolantur.” In commenting upon the above
passage, a learned writer has made the following remarks:--“It appears
from the text that Roger, Earl of Hereford, was brought to his trial
before the king’s court, or council of the _proceres_, or great men of
the kingdom, and was condemned by them to suffer perpetual imprisonment,
with the loss of all his inheritance. So that, in this instance, as well
as in the case of Ralph de Guader, the said court or council appear to
have acted as a court of criminal jurisdiction. But it seems remarkable
that the judgment they passed upon this great and notorious rebel, who
could not, and did not, deny the crime he was charged with, should not
have extended to his life; more especially, as Waltheof, Earl of
Northampton, who had refused to have any share in the rebellion raised
by the other two earls, and had only been guilty of concealing his
knowledge of their intentions, was, in a short time after, condemned to
lose his life for that lesser offence, and was, as stated in the text,
actually beheaded at Winchester. One would almost suspect that they were
tried by two different laws; namely, Roger, Lord of the Isle of Wight,
who was a Norman, by the _law of Normandy_; and Waltheof, Earl of
Northampton, who was an Englishman, by the _law of England_; and that
the Norman law of that period did not punish high treason with death,
although the English law did. With respect to the garments sent by the
king to this haughty prisoner, they are understood by commentators on
the original passage to have consisted of--First, an outer

[Illustration]

garment or coat; secondly, an inner garment or waistcoat, made of silk;
and thirdly, a short cloak to be thrown over the shoulders, and that
reached only to the waist, made of the rich furs of some foreign
animals, which the author calls mice (murium), and were probably either
ermines or martins. It is also conjectured that the present thus sent to
the earl was a set of robes, suited to the rank and office of Earl of
Hereford, which he had lately held, and to which it might have been King
William’s intention to restore him, “if his inconceivable pride had not
prevented it.”

In his interesting notice of the lives and fortunes of this great
family, the learned monk of Utica concludes with these striking moral
reflections on the transitory nature of all human grandeur:--“Verè
gloria mundi, ut flos fœni decidit et arescit; ac, velut fumus deficit
et transit. Ubi est <g>Gulielmus Osberni filius</g>, Herefordensis Comes, et
Regis Vicarius, Normanniæ dapifer, et magister militum bellicosus? Hic
nimirùm primus et maximus oppressor Anglorum fuit, et enormem causam per
temeritatem suam enutrivit, per quam millibus ruina miseræ mortis
incubuit. Verùm justus Judex omnia videt, et unicuique, prout meretur,
redhibet. Proh dolor! ecce <g>Gulielmus</g> corruit, audax athleta recipit quod
promeruit. Ut multos ense trucidavit, ipse quoque ferro repentè
interiit. Denique post ejus occasum antequam lustrum compleretur
annorum, spiritus discordiæ filium ejus et generum contra dominum suum
et cognatum hostiliter excivit, qui Sichimitas contrà Abimelech (quem
occicis LXX. filiis Jerobaal sibi præfecerant) commovit! En veracitur à
me descripta est offensa, pro qua <g>Guillelmi</g> progenies eradicata sic est
de Anglia, ut nec passum pedis, nisi fallor, jam nanciscatur in illa.”
Duchesne--Excerp. Order. Vital. De Gul. primo rege Anglorum 322. Selecta
Monumenta.

That the Conqueror’s philosophy was not proof against any little
disappointment of the palate is evident from the following
anecdote:--“When his prime favourite, William Fitz-Osborne, steward of
his household, served him with the flesh of a crane scarcely half
roasted, he was so highly exasperated that he lifted up his fist, and
would have struck him had not Eudo, appointed ‘dapifer,’ immediately
after warded off the blow.”--Warner, i. 307.

<g>It</g> was to the Isle of Wight that the Earl of Warwick--when brought to
trial along with the Earl of Arundel--was banished in these terms: “Earl
of Warwick! this sentence is very favourable, for you have deserved to
die as much as the Earl of Arundel; but the handsome services you have
done in time past to King Edward, of happy memory, and the Prince of
Wales, his son, as well on this as on the other side of the sea, have
secured your life; but it is ordered, that you banish yourself to the
Isle of <g>Wight</g>, taking with you a sufficiency of wealth to support your
state so long as you shall live, and that you never quit the
island.”--Froissart.

<g>The</g> passage referred to Monstrelet in the text, is as follows:--“In this
year Waleran, Comte de St. Pol, assembled at Abbeville, in Ponthieu,
about sixteen hundred fighting men: among whom were numbers of the
nobility, who had made great provisions of salted meats, biscuits,
wines, brandy, flour, and other things necessary on board of ships. From
Abbeville the Count led them to Harfleur, where they found vessels of
all descriptions ready to receive them. When they had remained there
some days, to arrange their matters and to recommend themselves to St.
Nicholas (the sailors’ patron-saint), they embarked on board these
vessels, and sailed direct for the Isle of <g>Wight</g>. Landing on the island,
they made a bold countenance to face their enemies, of whom they had
seen but little on their landing; for all, or at least the greater part
of the islanders, had retreated to the woods and fortresses. In the
meantime several new knights were created by the Count; namely, Philippe
de Harcourt, Jean de Fosseux, Lord of Guiency, and others, who went to
burn some miserable villages, and set fire to some other places. In the
meanwhile a sensible <g>priest</g> of the island came to the Count to treat for
the ransom and security of the island; for which he gave the Count to
understand that a very large sum of money would be paid to him and his
captains. The Count lent a ready ear to this proposal; but it was a mere
ruse on the part of the priest to delay their operations, till the
military force of the island could be brought together. Waleran
discovered the plot, but it was too late to take revenge; and
re-embarking his men in all haste, set sail, and returned home without
doing anything more. The nobles were much displeased at this conduct;
for they had expended large sums in laying in stores for the expedition,
which, after all, was completely defeated by a single
priest.”--Monstrelet, vol. i. 32.

[Illustration] <g>NETLEY ABBEY.</g> The following incident--interesting as
connected with the ruins--is related by Digby in his Mores
Catholici:--“I found a stranger,” says he, “once in <g>Netley</g>, on the eve
of <g>St. John</g>, standing contemplative, who, after some space, accosted me.
It was some holy solitary man, who told me he had been singing <g>vespers</g>
to himself within the ruins of the church, and a thought had been
suggested to him by a verse of the Magnificat, which he was eager to
communicate. ‘The poor persecuted monks,’ said he, ‘are now for ever
blessed in the centre of all felicity, while the proud, who made their
dwelling-place a heap of ruins, as we see, have been scattered in the
conceit of their heart, and dispersed through all the wastes of doubt,
distrust, and error.’ Thus did the ruins assist his meditation.” The
elder Pliny observes, that the houses which had been once inhabited by
heroes of a noble race, lamented when they passed to new and unworthy
masters; and that the very walls reproached the cowards who entered a
place consecrated by the monuments of virtue.” A modern author also
says, “It may be generally remarked, that the more nobly a mansion has
been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the viler are its
inhabitants in the day of its decline. Thus, boors are the only
inhabitants of Croyland, gipsies of <g>Netley</g>, while other religious houses
are now possessed by the same class as that which caused their
overthrow.”

[Illustration]


FOOTNOTES:

[1] Having thus faintly premised the leading features of the work in
hand, it may be proper to add a few words respecting the origin of the
design, and the humble qualifications of the writer for the task he
has undertaken. Familiar in early life with the feudal and monastic
ruins which invest Border history with so many stirring tales and
traditions, a taste for the deeds and days of old, fostered both at
school and college, was much strengthened by subsequent travelling in
France and Italy; where, besides the classical monuments of antiquity,
an unlimited field was thrown open for the study and investigation of
those which more forcibly illustrate the middle ages. To the facilities
acquired on the shores of the Mediterranean, others were presented to
him in Germany, where much of the feudal character is still preserved
in the living habits of the people. Honoured with the commands of a
late illustrious Personage{*}, on three successive occasions, to attend
him professionally at some of the minor courts of that country, he
had various opportunities of visiting those religious and baronial
edifices which, in the old German principalities, are both numerous
and splendid. He next spent a considerable time in Switzerland, among
the High Alps and in the valleys of Piedmont, where many vestiges of
feudal customs and government were found to illustrate the history
of the middle ages in Great Britain.--But although the writer had
published works descriptive of the countries mentioned, the plan of the
work now in hand was partly the result of a conversation with a late
distinguished and highly accomplished lady{**}, whose family honours
had descended to her through a long succession of ancestors. Being
at that time engaged in an illustrated work on Scotland, her Grace
favoured the author with an original drawing of her ancestral castle;
and on a subsequent occasion suggested an illustrated history of our
castellated mansions, with their legends and traditions, as a popular
subject. He was honoured at the same time with a family memoir, and
some MSS. respecting the ancient Sutherland estates, such as might have
been useful in a work like the present. Circumstances, however, which
occurred shortly after, precluded all further attention to the subject;
and it was not till the beginning of last autumn that leisure was
found to make arrangements for publishing the work in a cheap, popular
form: a plan which it is hoped will bring an originally voluminous and
expensive field of illustration within the reach of every admirer of
English monuments.

{*} His late Majesty William IV., while Duke of Clarence.

{**} The late Duchess-Countess of Sutherland.

[2] Asser de Ælfred. rebus. gestis, fol. 23.; Athelmo vero fratris mei
filio, &c.--Appendix to this vol. p. 331.

[3] Ibid.--Camden, 308. 230. See the original in Append. to this
volume, p. 331.

[4] Ingulph. folio 510.--Hardyng, p. 229.--Simeon Dunelmensis,
184.--Hovedon, fol. 254.

[5] Caraccioli, p. 5.--Dallaway.--Archit. in England.--Forty-nine
Castles are enumerated in Domesday Book, _that of Arundel only_, as
existing in the reigns of Edward the Confessor, p. 269. The Castle
of Arundel dates perhaps its true origin from that monarch, King
Alfred.--p. 316.

[6] Camden, 229-30. Fama vero tota est ex Castro, quod Saxonico imperio
flouit. See Append. p. 331.

[7] Wilhelm. Gemitens, f. 686. Ingentes possessiones habuit in diversis
regionibus Normanniæ.

[8] Dugd. Bar. 1. 26.--Camden, p. 86. “Normanni.” Primam Normannorum
aciem ducebant Rogerus Montegomericus et Guil. Fitzosberne.

[9] Ord. Vitalis De Gul. primo. Excerp. p. 208-254. A Wilhelmo rege
Anglorum Comitatus Arundelliæ, et Salopesberiæ dono accepit.

Ao. Dni. 1071. Rogerus de Montegomerici, Comes Arundel, fuit pacificè
seizit’, &c. Inprimis de Castro Arundell, forest’ Warren’ hundr’ et
aliis libert’ spectant’ ad Honorem Castri, &c. Tierney, 1. 14.

[10] Dallaway’s Rape of Arundel.--Hist. of Sussex.

[11] Estimated at 57·460 acres. Hist. of Arundel, p. 21.

[12] Honour, in this sense, means a superior Seignory to which other
lordships and manors owe suit and service, and which itself holds only
of the Sovereign.--Feudal Syst.

[13] Orderic, 522.--Excerpt. p. 254.--App. 332.

[14] Order. Vitalis, 708. monachile seema devotus suscepit, etc.--v.
also Dugd. Bar. i, 28.

[15] Girald. Cambrens. Itinerar. p. 194.--Dugd. Bar.

[16] Polyd. Virgil, f. 173.--Hovedon, f. 268.--Speed, 445.--Grafton, i.
177.--Tierney, i. 158.--Append. to this Volume, p. 332.

[17] History of Arundel, i. 15. Orderic Vitalis, p. 708.

[18] Chalmers’ Caledonia, vol i. 572--4. Anno 1158. “Ego Milcolumbus,
rex, confirmavi, _Waltero, filio Alain_ (Fitzalan), Dapifero meo, et
heredibus suis, in feodo et hereditate, senescalliam meam ... ita
bene et plenarie, sicut Rex David senescalliam suam ei dedit.” In
consequence of this grant, Richard Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, sold the
stewardship as an hereditary possession in 1336 to Edward the Third.
Sec Dugd. Bar. i. 314.--Append. to this Vol. p. 334.

[19] Mem. Howard Family--Descent of the Earldom, in Tierney’s Hist. and
Antiq. of Arundel, vol. i.

[20] See Appendix to this vol. p. 338, also Ellis’s Metrical Romances,
vol. ii. p. 245.

[21] Castrum Harundel T. R. E. reddebᵈᵉ qoda molⁱⁿᵒ XL.
solⁱᵈ. et de iiibus conuviis (conviviis?) XX solⁱᵈ. et
de uno pasticio XX solⁱᵈ. etc. etc.--Domesday Survey,
quoted by Tierney.

[22] A careful examination of the evidence in respect to its
foundation, inclines us to refer that event to the time of Alfred,
whose policy, it will be remembered, led him to augment the national
security by the erection of numerous fortresses, particularly in the
maritime districts; and it may be readily concluded that the ‘Castrum
de Harundel,’ a royal residence, was one of those which survived
the demolition of English fortresses which succeeded the Conquest.
[Tierney, i. 33; and Dallaway.] It is supposed that, at the death of
Alfred, fifty castles or upwards had been raised under his direction,
and it is not probable that the whole of that number could have
disappeared in the comparatively short period which elapsed between the
demise of that monarch and the establishment of the Norman dynasty.
Ante, p. 8, n. ¶.--Also App. p. 334.

[23] For other particulars the reader may consult
Wright--Caraccioli--Dallaway--Horsfield, and Tierney.

[24] For other particulars the reader may consult
Wright--Caraccioli--Dallaway--Horsfield, and Tierney.

[25] Register, R. f. 106. quoted in Tierney, vol. i. 44.

[26] A.D. 1275.

[27] Tierney, i. 45. Pat. 3. Edw. I. m. 30--1.

[28] As shown in the view taken from the battlements of the castle, p.
26.

[29] Abridged from the History.

[30] Tierney, vol. i. 48-9.--Dallaway’s Arundel.--Horsted, vol. i.
120-5, 6.--Wright 32-36.

[31] Tierney, vol. i. 48-9.--Dallaway’s Arundel.--Horsted, vol. i.
120-5, 6.--Wright 32-36.

[32] Tierney, vol. i. 48-9.--Dallaway’s Arundel.--Horsted, vol. i.
120-5, 6.--Wright 32-36.

[33] In a cause tried at Hawarden, in Flintshire, long previous to his
reign, we have a list of the twelve jurors; confirmed, too, by the fact
that the descendants of one of them, named Corby of the Gate, still
preserve their name and residence, at a place in the parish called the
Gate.--PHILLIPS.

[34] See list of authorities at the end of this subject, also Append.
to this volume.

[35] Portrait of Captain Morris.

[36] The late Duke of Norfolk.

[37] Henry Howard of Greystoke.

[38] H. C. Coombe, Esq. Alderman of London.

[39] On the corner of a stone in this superb hall is the following
votive inscription:--

                              “LIBERTATI
                     PER BARONES REGNANTE JOHANNE
                              VINDICATÆ,
                     CAROLUS HOWARD NORFOLCIÆ DUX,
                            ARUNDELIÆ COMES
                             A.C. MDCCCVI.
                              ÆTATIS LX.”
                                 D. D.


[40] Sepulchral Antiq. Hist. of Arundel Church and Priory--Dallaway and
Wright.

[41] Causa nominis nec ab Arundelio, Bevisii fabuloso equo, nec ex
Charudo, Cimbricæ Chersonesi promontorio, quod Goropius per quietem
vidit; sed ex valle in qua sedet ad Arun flumen.--CAMDEN.

[42] See ante. p. 12, also Appendix to this Vol. p. 338-9, where the
legend is given.

[43] See Appendix to this vol. pp. 336, 7; also Dugdale Bar. i. pp. 42,
118.

[44] Rediit ad vigiliam Paschæ in Angliam, appulit apud Arundel. Henr.
Huntingd. lib. vii. 216.

[45] Tierney. i. 55. Patent 30th Edw. I. M. 9, is dated at Arundel.

[46] See a full and interesting account of this conspiracy, with its
disastrous consequences, at pp. 49, 50, 51, of this vol.

[47] Tempore quoque sub eodem domino rege adhuc moram Londini
continuante, venit ad eum in Cameram suam Isabella, Comitissa
Harundelliæ relicta Comitis Harundelliæ H. et ejusdem regis cognata; ut
pro jure suo de quadam custodia ipsam contingente verba faceret sibi
profectura, &c. Paris, p. 853, A. D. 1252. The original will be found
in the Append. p. 339.

[48] The particulars are thus related by Speed:--Henry, “after he
had calmed the boisterous stormes of warre, in the partes beyond the
seas, came over into England well appointed, unto whom also resorted
many of the nobilitie who yeelded up themselves, and above thirtie
strong castles, to the young duke, now hasted to raise the siege of
Wallingford; Stephen following hastily to succour his men--though
with the lesse edge, for that he never sped well in any assault of
that castle--pitched downe his tents, even neere his enemy, and ready
on bothe sides to give battaile, the winter stormes were suddenly so
troublesome that nothing could be done, but those somewhat overblowne,
and the armies scarce three furlongs asunder, as Kinge Stephen was
busied in disposing of his hoaste, and giving directions for order of
the battaile, his horse under him, rising with his fore feet fell flat
back upon the earth, not without danger to his rider; and thus did
he thrice ere hee left; which things his nobles secretly muttering,
interpreted for an unlucky presage; when William, Earle of Arundell,
a bold and eloquent man, went to him and advised him to a peace,
affirming the title of Duke Henry to be just: that the nobilitie on
bothe parts there present were nearly linked in alliances and bloud,
and how these stood affected was very doubtfull. Yea that brethren were
there assembled, the one against the other, whereof must needs follow
an unnatural war betwixt them, and of dangerous consequences even to
him that conquested. With these and the like allegations, at last
Stephen began to bend, and a parley for peace was signified unto the
Duke.”--Speed, edit. 1629, fol. 481.

[49]

    “ ...estre grand voyagier,
     Tournoiz suir et jouster pour sa mie.”--

Deschamps, cité par Sainte Palaye.


[50] Siege of Caerlaverock.--Edited by Sir Harris Nicolas.

[51] Hume, 4to, 175; Wals. 148.

[52] Speed, fol. 689.

[53] Froiss. C. 132.

[54] The fortunes and fate of the noblemen and prelates will be
detailed in a future page of this work.

[55] “They sware each to other to be assistant in all such matters as
they should determine; and therewith received the sacrament at the
hands of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who celebrated mass before
them the following morning, which done, they withdrew into a chamber
and fell into conversation together. When in the end they light upon
this point--to take King Richard, the Dukes of York and Lancaster,
and commit them to prison; and also the lords of the King’s Council
they determined should be drawn and hanged. Such was the purpose which
they meant to have accomplished in the August following. But the
Earl Marshal, Arundel his son-in-law, discovered all to the King.”
Holinshed, 1. 448.

[56] “He was arrayned,” says the old picturesque chronicle, “in a
red gown and scarlet hood; and forthwith the Duke of Lancaster,
John-of-Gaunt, said to the Lord Neville, Take from him his girdle
and hood, and so it was done; and herewith the appeal being to the
said Earl declared, with a valyaunt and bolde minde he denies that
he was a traytor, and required benefit of y pardon, protesting that
he would not go from the benefit of the King and his grace. The Duke
of Lancaster then said, Why didst thou purchase the pardon? The Earl
answered, To the tongues of mine enemies, whereof _thou art one_. The
Duke of Lancaster said, Thou traytor, this pardon is revoked. The Earl
answered, Truely thou lyest, I _never was a traytor_.”

[57] “The constancy of this Earl’s courage,” says Speed, “as well as
his arraignement, passage, and execution, in which he did not discolour
the honour of his blood with any degenerous word, look, or action,
encreased the envy of his death upon his his persecutors. That he was a
traitor either in word or deed, he utterly did deny, and died in that
denial.”--Speed, 739.

[58] “In the form and manner as you have heard did Duke Henry take King
Richard, his lord. The duke led him straight to the Castle, which is
fair and strong, and caused him to be lodged in the dungeon. And then
he gave him in keeping to the son of the Duke of Gloucester, Humphrey
Plantagenet; and Thomas Fitzalan, the son of the Earl of Arundel; who
hated him more than any man in the world, because King Richard had put
their fathers to death.”--French Metrical History, deposition of King
Richard, Archæologia, vol. xx. 173. By the Rev. John Webb, M.A.; also
Dallaway, p. 139.

[59] Froissart, vol. ii. 295. Dallaway, 139.

[60] “The next day after the coronation, were kepte triumphant joustes
and tourneys, in which the Erle of Arondelle and the Bâtard de St. Pol,
by the judgement of the ladyes, wanne the prize.”--Holinshed.

[61] Monstrelet, vii. 51.

[62] The French historians bear ample testimony to his prowess:--“Le
Comte d’Arondelle, Anglais de grande réputation, se mit en campagne
pour prendre des places sur les Français.”--Dallaway, quoting
Montfaucon, t. iii. 309.

[63] Grafton’s account of this affair is very picturesque:--“The which
town of Builleyne, he, King Henry VIII., so sore assaulted, and so
besieged with such abundance of great ordnance, that never was there a
more valyaunt assaut made, for beside the undermyning of the castell,
tower, and walles, the towne was so beaten with ordinaunce, that there
was not left one house whole therein. In the morning the Duke of
Suffolk rode into Bulleyne, to whom in the king’s name they delyvered
the keyes of the towne; and at afternoone departed out of Bulleyne
all the Frenchemen. The last person that came forthe was Monsire
de Verinne, graund captaine of the towne, which, when he approched
near where the kinge stoode, he alighted from his horse, and came to
the kinge. And after he had talked with him a space, the kinge toke
him by the hande, and he reverently kneeling upon his knees, kissed
his hand, and afterward mounted upon his horse and so departed. The
xviii. day the kingis highnesse, having the sworde borne naked before
him, like a noble and valyaunt conqueror rode into Bulleyne, and all
the trumpetters standing on the walles of the towne, sounded their
trumpettes, to the great comfort of all the kinges true subiectes, the
same beholding.”--Vol. ii. 492.

[64] Arundel affirmed that the only method of making atonement for
their past offences, was by a speedy return to the duty which they owed
to their lawful sovereign; the motion was seconded by Pembroke, who
clapping his hand to his sword, swore that he was ready to fight any
man that expressed himself of a contrary sentiment.--Hume, 373.

[65] This however did not “enable him to ascertain, according to the
old English proverb, the exact length of her Majesty’s foot!”--Anon.

[66] Shakspeare, in his Richard the Third, has introduced this incident
into the opening scene of the battle.

NORFOLK. This found I in my tent this morning.      [_Giving a scroll._

RICHARD. [_reads_] “Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon, thy master, is bought and sold.”
A thing devised by the enemy.     _Then dismissing them, continues_:
Go, gentlemen--every man unto his charge,
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls;
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devised at first to keep the strong in awe;
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
                      King Richard III. act v. sc. 3.



[67] History of Framlingham and its Lords, p. 89, 90. R. Green.

[68] Hist. of Framlingham, note, p. 90.

[69] Sir Walter Scott’s Lay of the Last Minstrel.

[70] Arundelian Marbles, called also the Parian Chronicle, are ancient
stones on which is inscribed, in capital letters, a chronicle of the
city of Athens, supposed to have been engraved in the island of Paros,
264 years before Christ. They take their name from the Earl of Arundel,
who procured them from the East, or from this Earl, his grandson, who,
as above stated, presented them to the University of Oxford.

[71] The origin of this screen is thus gravely recorded: During the
Abbot Richard’s visit at Tinmouth, he received a wonderful cure of
a withered arm, with which he had been afflicted many years. It is
related, that being present at Durham, when the monks were removing the
corpse of St. Cuthbert, the founder of Durham Cathedral and the Apostle
of the North, he assisted to lift and support the shrine, and received
from that instant a cure of his malady, and found his arm restored to
health. And accordingly, on his return, he built a wall, or screen,
across the nave of the church, about 50 feet below the choir; and,
adjoining to the wall, a chapel, dedicated to St. Cuthbert. This chapel
stood on the west side of the said screen, and had service performed
in it, and an altar; but has been long since pulled down, though the
screen remains to this day.--_Lives of the Abbots._

[72] “It is to be understood, that in those days,” says the historian
of the abbey, “there was no screen at the top of the choir, that the
great altar stood where the rails and table now stand, and the shrine
was placed in what is now the consistory; so that it was all open, even
from Cuthbert’s screen, to the view of the whole choir and congregation.

“Abbot Symond caused the shrine to be a little elevated, for a better
view, and to appear directly before the eye of the priest who was
celebrating mass; whose place it was to stand and kneel with his back
to the people, and on the west side of the altar. This position of the
shrine was not only the most splendid to the eye of the beholder, but
was intended to raise and elevate the devotion of the priest; and to
this purpose, also, was intended the Decollation of St. Alban, which
was painted on the wall opposite.

“THE SHRINE was in form somewhat resembling an altar-tomb, but rising
with a lofty canopy over it supported on pillars, and was intended
to represent the saint lying in great state. The inside contained
a coffin, wherein had been deposited the bones of Alban by Abbot
Geoffrey. This was enclosed in another case, which, on the two sides,
was overlaid with figures cast in gold and silver, showing the chief
acts of Alban’s life, in work that was highly raised and embossed. At
the head, which was toward the east, was placed a large “Crucifixion,”
with a figure of the Virgin Mary on one side and of St. John on the
other, ornamented with a row of very splendid jewels. At the feet,
which were towards the east and in front of the choir, was placed an
image of the Virgin, holding her son in her bosom, seated on a throne;
the work seemingly of cast gold highly embossed, and enriched with
precious stones and very costly bracelets.

“The four pillars which supported the canopy, and stood one at each
corner, were shaped in resemblance like towers, with apertures to
represent windows, and all of plate gold, supporting the roof or
canopy, whose inside was covered with crystal stones.”--_Newcome, ed.
1793, p. 76._

[73] In the “Philosophical Transact.” No. 333, p. 426, the reader will
find a paper on the extraordinary size of human bones dug up in this
neighbourhood, communicated by the celebrated Mr. Cheselden.

[74] “As protector of the realm,” says Hollinshed, “he was highlie
esteemed of learned men, himselfe also not meanlie furnished with
knowledge, hauing rare skill in astrologie, whereof beside manie
other things he compiled a singular treatise, obteining the name of
Tabula directionum.” Whethamstead, the abbot above-named, concludes a
copy of Latin verses on the death of the Good Duke in the following
complimentary terms:--

    Fidior in regno regi duce non fuit isto,
    Plusque fide stabilis aut major amator honoris,
    Et tamen ut prædo voto potiretur iniquo,
    Fraudem consuluit, cum fraude dolum sociavit,
    Sicque ducem falsi maculans cum proditione
    Obtinuit votum praedator oratque bonorum
    Illius, et tristis obiit Dux criminis expers.


[75] Abbot Geoffrey de Gorham built a large and noble hall, with a
double roof, to entertain strangers in; near which he built a fair
bedchamber. Abbot John of Hertford built a noble hall for the use of
strangers, adding many parlours, with an inner chamber and a chimney,
(no common luxury in those times,) with a noble picture. He built also
an entry, a small hall, and a most noble entry with a porch or gallery,
and many fair bedchambers, with their inner chambers and chimneys, to
receive strangers honourably.--_Willis’ Mitred Abbeys._

[76] The buildings called the “royal lodging,” were separated from the
rest of the monastery by a range of cloisters, running nearly the whole
length of the church, but divided from it by the great square, and by
all the principal buildings of the convent. The royal apartments were
pleasantly and quietly situated near the southern edge of the hill,
overlooking the valley of the Ver.--Notes to “St. Albans Abbey,” p. 89.

[77] In the Archæologia, vol. xx. p. 519, is an interesting account of
the first battle of St. Albans, from a contemporary MS., communicated
by John Bayley, Esq., F.S.A., to which the reader is referred.

[78] History of St. Albans, p. 358.

[79] The Rev. Peter Newcome, Rector of Shenley, Herts, whose history of
St. Albans is compiled from that of Matthew Paris and Walsingham (both
monks of this Abbey, and men of undoubted veracity), and from numerous
MSS. in the Cotton Library, Harleian Collection, &c. &c. London,
printed for the author, 1793, 4to. pp. 547.

[80] Sir Thomas Meautys, who erected the monument, was Lord Bacon’s
private secretary. He continued his faithful services to him through
all his troubles, and at his death inherited as next heir the family
possessions.

[81] The woodcut here introduced, shows the north entrance, with part
of the interior, of the LADY-CHAPEL, through which there is a common
passage leading to the town, called the ante-chapel.

[82] Among the lesser works expressly devoted to Eltham Palace, Mr.
Buckler’s “Historical and Descriptive Account,” published about
sixteen years ago, and just when the repairs had been commenced, under
the direction of Mr. Smirke the Architect, is the best. But in “the
Gentleman’s Magazine,”--the grand repertorium of subjects of this
class--some excellent papers, accompanied with illustrative engravings
of Eltham, have appeared from time to time, during the last fifty
years.--Some years ago, “The Graphic and Historical Illustrator,”
edited by E. W. Brayley, Esq., F.S.A. &c. opened a fine field of
investigation; but, much to the regret of every littérateur and
antiquary, it was discontinued. It contains a good paper on Eltham.

[83] From the Doomsday record it appears “Hanno the sheriff of the
county holds of the bishop Aletham, which is taxed at one suling and
a half. The arable land is twelve carucates: on the demesne there are
two ploughs: there are forty-four villans and twelve bordars who employ
seven ploughs: there are nine slaves, and twenty-two acres of meadow:
there is pasture for fifty hogs. In the time of Edward the Confessor
it was valued at sixteen pounds, when it came into the present owner
at twelve pounds; now at twenty pounds. Alwold held this manor of the
Confessor.”--Hasted’s “Kent;” also “Eltham Palace.” Lond. 1804.

[84] “Eltham Palace.” Anon. 1804, with authorities from history.

[85] Camden, in his brief notice of Eltham, confirms this charge in
the following terms; “Antony Becke, Bishop of Durham and patriarch of
Jerusalem, built this ‘Eltham,’ in a manner new, and gave it unto Queen
Eleanor, wife of Edwarde the Firste, after he had craftily conveyed
unto himself the inheritance of the Vescyes, unto whom the place before
belonged. For that Bishope, whom the last baron de Vescye had made his
feofie for trust of all his inheritance to the use of William Vescye
his little base sonne, dealt not so faithfully as he should with this
orphan and warde of his, but despoiled him of Alnwick Castle, of this
Eltham, and other faire lands.”--Camden, 327, 8.

[86] Chronicles. Stow. Holinshed. Grafton.

[87] King Henry keeping his Whitsuntide at the palace of Eltham, the
next year ensuing, commanded that for those valiant acts against the
Scots, as also for that his ancestors bore the eagle in their crest, he
should be proclaimed Lord of Mounteagle, which was accordingly then and
there done; and he gave to the officers of arms five marks, besides the
accustomed fees, and likewise to Garter, principal king-at-arms, his
fee; whereupon, he had special summons to parliament, the same year,
by the title of Mounteagle, and was installed one of the Knights of
the Garter. Rot. Parl. Collins, vol. ii. p. 450. This title has been
recently revived, and conferred on Mr. Spring Rice, late Chancellor of
the Exchequer.

[88] After the martyrdom of King Charles, three years later, the
manor-house was surveyed and the materials valued at £2754. It was
then described in the Parliamentary survey as built of brick, wood,
stone, and timber--consisting of one fair CHAPEL, one
great HALL, thirty-six rooms and offices below stairs,
with two large cellars. Above stairs were seventeen lodging-rooms on
the King’s side, nine on the Prince’s side, and seventy-eight rooms in
the offices round the court-yard, which contained an acre of ground.
None of the rooms enumerated were then furnished, except the chapel
and hall; and the house was reported as untenantable. Parliam. Survey.
Paper on the Hall of Eltham, N. R. S., also Lysons, vol. i. pt. ii. p.
50.

[89] It appears, by a passage in the works of Erasmus, that Henry the
Eighth and all the children of Henry the Seventh, except Prince Arthur,
were educated at Eltham. The learned writer describes a visit which he
paid them, accompanied by his friend Mr. Thomas More, afterwards Lord
Chancellor, and at this time a student at Lincoln’s Inn. [Ed. 1811,
Lysons, vol. i. 788, refers to Knight’s Life of Erasmus, p. 69.]

[90] Lysons--Buckler--Hist. of Kent.

[91] Parliam. Survey--Lysons, vol. i. pt. ii.

[92] Mr. Buckler remarks, that the external wall within the moat was
built with great care and strength, and that its basement is likely to
remain long after all other traces of the palace have disappeared. See
“Eltham Hall,” edit. 1828.

[93] Lysons--Buckler--“Environs.”

[94] Buckler’s Eltham.--Graph. Illustrator.

[95] See Gent. Mag., sig. N. R. S. 1811-1822.

[96] The upper or western part had suffered the most from neglect;
the cornices and beams, which were dangerously decayed, had been
repaired, and perhaps restored to their original stability. Formerly,
the deficiencies were supplied with chestnut, which is now substituted
by oak, strongly bolted and strapped with iron. Whatever might have
occasioned the injury, which was arrested several centuries ago, it
is certain that the mischief which has been in operation upwards
of fourscore years to the present time, was not accelerated by the
dry-rot, which has not been discovered in any part of the building,
except a small spot in the principal wall-plate, over the south
bay-window.--Buckler’s Eltham.

[97] Buckler’s Eltham Hall.

[98] This is in the open court, and, being exposed to the rain, cannot
be explored with convenience but in summer, when the subterraneous
passages on which it opens, are accessible.

[99] Sed memorabilis amœnitas penè citius animum quam oculos diffudit
aspectu, non Britanniâ tantum, sed fortasse tota Europa pulcherrimo!
Ingens planities aliquot suspensa colliculis, rursus montes in orbem
effusi, neque cito castigabant oculos, neque illos per immensum
cœlum spargebant. Tamesis lætissima ubertate in viciniam exudat,
et ad radices mentis redeuntibus ni gyrum fluctibus insulam pene
molitur. Passim toto alveo naves, et omnis generis onerariæ: ut
proximas quidam totas aspicerem cæterum longius stantes, aut sub
altiori ripa, ex malis antennisque tantum nudam ut brumalem sylvam
cognoscerem.--Lysons--Barclaii Icon. Animorum, 518.--1614.

[100] See Holinshed--Stow--Hasted--Kilburne--Lambard--with the
condensed account by Lysons.

[101] M. de Caumont.

[102] Jean de Culmien, in his “Détails sur l’Architecture des
Forteresses,” has left us a vivid picture of this wretched state of
society; for which see “France Monumentale,” vol. iii., following Note.

[103] See the Roll, in France Monumentale, vol. iii.

[104] C’est l’usage de nos jours, dit Culmien, pour les hommes les plus
riches et les plus nobles, ou pour ceux qui, par conséquent, consacrent
le plus exclusivement leur temps à satisfaire leurs haines privées par
le meurtre, de se procurer avant tout une retraite où ils puissent se
mettre à l’abri de l’attaque de leurs ennemis, combattre leurs égaux
avec avantage, et retenir dans les fers ceux qui se sont trouvés les
plus faibles.

The following is a correct description of a baronial fortress:--Ils
élèvent aussi haut qu’il leur est possible un monticule de terre
transportée; ils l’entourent d’un fossé d’une largeur considérable
et d’une effrayante profondeur. Sur le bord intérieur du fossé, ils
plantent une palissade, de pièces de bois équarries et fortement liées
entres elles, qui équivaut à un mur. S’il leur est possible, ils
soutiennent cette palissade par des tours élevées de place en place.
Au milieu de ce monticule, ils bâtissent une maison, ou plutôt une
citadelle, d’où la vue se porte de tous côtés également. On ne peut
arriver à la porte de celle-ci que par un pont qui, jeté sur la fossé,
et porté sur des piliers accouplés, part du point le plus bas au-delà
du fossé, et s’élève graduellement jusqu’à ce qu’il atteigne le sommet
du monticule et la porte de la maison, d’où le maître le domine tout
entier.--France Historique, p. 416.

[105] Our antiquarian friends will readily excuse us if, in our anxiety
to make the subject intelligible to every class of readers, we avoid as
much as possible all technical phraseology.

[106] See this exemplified in one of the subsequent illustrations, page
153.

[107] To this we have alluded in Scotland Illustrated. See also New
Statistical Account of Glamis, or Glammiss; Art. Forfarshire, part xii.
p. 344.

[108] Odonem fratrem suum de proditione in se accusatum, cepit et
incarcerari præcepit, (fol. 11, ii. A.D. 1078.) Cum
olim Willielmus rex senior coram Lanfranco conqueretur se ab Odone
fratre suo episcopo descri, tum Lanfrancus: “cur,” inquit, “apprehensum
vinculis non coerces?” Rege autem respondente: quod “clericus et
episcopus esset;” respondit archiepiscopus--“non _episcopum Baiocensem_
apprehendes, sed _Cantiæ comitem_.” Hujus itaque consilio Odo custodiæ
est. Matth. Par. Hist. Angl. fol. 14, 1088. See further traits of this
prelate in the same authority.

[109] History of England. Civ. and Milit.

[110] Ibid.--Pictor. Hist.--Paris.

[111] In Anglo-Saxon, a niddering, or un-nithing--“one of the strongest
terms of contempt,” says Camden. The original expressions are, “Baed
that aelc man the waere un-nithing, sceolde cuman to him, Frencisce and
Englisce, of porte and of upplande.” Literally, “ordered that every man
who is not a mere nothing, be he French or English, in town or country,
should repair to him.” Hist. of Engl. Civil and Military Transact. vol.
i. 394. _Nithing_,--quod Latinè _nequam_ sonat: Paris, f. 15.

[112] Episcopum vero in posteriori castello Pevensey interceptum,
vinculis mancipavit. Milites autem regii ad castrum Roffense illum
ducentes, ab illis qui castro præerant, ingressum postulant: hoc enim
dominum suum velle, hoc regem absentem jubere dicunt. Erant autem tunc
in castro illo omnis fere juventutis Angliæ et Normanniæ nobilitas,
tres scilicet filii comitis Rogeri, et Eustachius comes Bononie,
junior, cum multis aliis.... Illi vero qui in castro erant ex muro
prospicientes, _vultum_ episcopi cum militum _verbis_ non convenire
percipientes, ocyus apertis valvis exeuntes, omnes cum episcopo milites
vinctos reducunt.... Obsessi autem longiorem obsidionem ferre non
valentes, castellum regi reddiderunt. Par. Hist. Angl. fol. 15.

[113] History of England--Civil and Military Transact. vol. i.

[114] Ibid. p. 395.

[115] History of Eng. Civ. and Milit. Transact. vol. i. 395, quoting
the authority of Thierry, Chron. Sax. Orderic. Vitalis, etc. Also,
Selecta Monum. 203-280. Paris, f. 15. 8.

[116] Holinshed, fol. 188.

[117] The following passage illustrates the preceding
facts:--“Duraverat autem obsidio tribus ferè mensibus: unde Rex tum
propter multitudinem interfectorum, tum propter infinitam pecuniæ
summam, quam in obsidione consumpserat, nimio furore succensus,
universos nobiles illos, sine misericordiæ consideratione, patibulo
suspendi praecepit. Sed vir nobilis Savaricus de Malloleone, in
faciem Regi resistens, ait: Domine Rex, guerra nostra nondum finita
est, unde vobis diligenter considerandum est, quàm varios eventus
bello sortiantur. Nempe si nobis istos nunc suspendio tradatis,
Barones adversarii nostri, vel me fortè vel alios de exercitu vestro
nobiles intercipere potuerunt; et consimili casu in brevi et exemplo
vestri suspendio tradere, quod absit à vobis, ne contingat: quia
tali conditione nullus in vestro obsequio militaret. Tunc Rex, licèt
invitus, consilio ejus et aliorum virorum prudentum adquiescens,
Willielmum de Albineto, W. de Lancastre, W. de Emeford, Thomam de
Muleton, Osbertum Giffard, Osbertum de Bonbi, Odinellum de Albineto,
et alios nobiliores misit ad Castrum de Corf, sub arcta custodia
deputandos. Robertum verò de Chaurna, et Richardum Giffart, cum Thoma
de Lincoln, apud Castrum de Nothingham; aliosque per loca diversa
carcerali custodiæ mancipandos direxit.

“Servientes vero omnes, præter balistarios, qui multos in obsidione
milites et servientes interfecerant, patibulo suspendi præcepit. His
ita gestis, pars Baronum non erat mediocriter infirmata.”--Matt. Par.
Hist. Angl. fol. 268, et seqq.

[118] The names here enumerated as the friends and abettors of Albini
were--William de Lancaster, William de Emeford, Thomas de Muleton,
Osbert Gifford, Osbert de Bobie, Odinell de Albiney, Robert Charnie,
Richard Gifford, and Thomas de Lincoln--names which are variously spelt
in the different chronicles.--See the preceding note.

[119] The following occurrence, as mentioned by the same historian,
shows the force upon which King John had calculated in addition to the
powerful army with which he actually beleaguered the castle:--“Here is
to be remembred, that whilest the siege laie thus at Rochester, Hugh de
Boues, a valiant knight, but full of pride and arrogancie, a Frenchman
borne, but banished out of his countrie, came down to Calice with an
huge number of men of warre and souldiers to come to the aid of King
John. But as he was upon the sea with all his people, meaning to land
at Dover, by a sudden tempest which rose at that instant, the said
Hugh with all his companie was drowned by shipwracke. Soone after the
bodie of the same Hugh, with the carcases of other innumerable both of
men, women, and children, were found not farre from Yermouth, and all
along that coast. There were of them in alle fortie thousand, as saith
Matthew Paris; for of all those which he brought with him, there was
(as it is said) not one man left alive.

“The king (as the same went, but how true I know not) had given by
charter vnto the said Hugh de Boues the whole countrie of Northfolke,
so that he ment to have expelled the old inhabitants, and to have
peopled it with strangers. But whether this was so or not, sure it
is that he was verie sorowfull for the losse of this succor and aid
which thus perished in the seas, though it happened verie well for
his subiects of England, that should have been sore oppressed by such
multitude of strangers, which for the most part must needs have lived
upon the countrie, to the utter undooing of the inhabitants wheresoever
they should have come.”

[120] Una dierum dum obsidio castri Roffensis duraret, Rex et Savaricus
circumibant castrum, ut infirmiora ejus considerarent. Quos cùm
cognovisset quidam optimus arcubalistarius Willielmi de Albineto,
ait illi: Placeat tibi, domine mi, ut occidam Regem hostem nostrum
cruentissimum spiculo hoc, quod habeo promptum? Cui ille: Non, non,
absit gluto pessime, ut in sanctum Domini mortem procuremus. Et ille:
Non parceret tibi in consimili casu. Tum Willielmus: Fiat Domini
beneplacitum: Dominus disponet, non ille. In hoc similis erat David
parcentis Saul, cùm occidisse potuit. Hoc posteà non latuit Regem, nec
ob hoc voluit parcere capto, quin ipsum suspendisset, si permissum ei
fuisset.--Matth. Paris. Hist. Angl. 270.

The above anecdote is also related in the “Admirable Curiosities of
Englande, 1682,” with some little difference in the expression. It is
honourable to Albini, of whose character notice has already appeared in
this work.

[121] Holinshed, 188. Also Paris.

[122] Hist. and Antiq. of Rochester. Hume, Hist.

[123] Op. citat.--Chronicles.--Antiq. of Roch.--Paris. Hist. Angl. fol.
282.

[124] Hist. of the Castle. Civil and Milit. Transact.--Chronicles.

[125] Between the reign of Henry the Third and that of Edward the
Fourth, who contributed the last repairs to the Castle, Guy de
Rochfort, one of the King’s foreign minions--William de St. Clare,
Robert de Houghan, Robert de Septuans, Stephanus de Dene--“a great
enemy to the monks”--William Skarlett, and William Keriel, had each in
turn the custody of this fortress; but they have left behind them no
remarkable traits of character.--Hist. of Rochester.

[126] One incident, however, may be mentioned, namely; in 1382, the
fifth year of Richard the Second, while the rebellion of Wat Tyler
was at its height, a party of the insurgents had the hardihood to lay
siege to Rochester Castle, and penetrating into the interior, carried
off a prisoner in triumph. (History of Rochester Castle, 34.) From
all the information recorded respecting this fortress, it has never
apparently sustained a siege with that degree of obstinacy which its
strength and position would have led one to suppose. Pestilence in
the first--starvation in the second instance, compelled the surrender
of its garrison; and on the third occasion it was only saved from a
similar fate by the unexpected recal of Leicester from under its walls
to more important duties in Sussex. But, ill provisioned, the siege
could be protracted neither by the thickness of the walls, nor the
bravery of the garrison.

[127] King James I. having in 1610 granted this castle, with all the
services and emoluments appertaining thereto, to Sir Anthony Weldon, of
Swanscombe; Walker Weldon, a descendant, sold the timber-work belonging
to the castle to Gimmet, who, not many years ago, applied a part of it
in building a brewhouse on the common.--Antiquities of Rochester Castle.

[128] But all the beer, it is said, ever brewed within the new
precincts partook so largely of the virtues of oak, that the drinkers
underwent the internal process of tanning, till the beverage became
known as the “Baron’s Oak-wort.” The case was then laid before a
learned chemist, who declared that “whereas the oak was without bark,
so ought the beer to have been without bitter.” But another, much more
acute in questions of taste, gave it as his opinion, that the old oak
having been thrice steeped in the bitter tyranny of King John, as he
proved from history, had imbibed so much of the spirit of these times,
that the flavour now complained of was nothing more than the natural
consequence of using old baronial oak for modern brewhouses; a measure,
he averred, that could not be too severely reprobated. The solution
thus given to an intricate question was lucid and satisfactory; but
the brewer “never once blessed the day that he bought the venerable
roof-tree and beams of Rochester Castle at the hammer.”--MS. Old
Castles.

[129] Some masons of London bought the stone stairs, and other squared
and wrought stones of the windows and arches; and the rest of the
materials were offered to a pavior, but he declined purchasing them,
finding, upon trial, the cement so hard, that the expense of separating
and cleaning the stones would amount to more than their value. This
essay was made on the eastern side, near the postern leading to Bully
Hill, where a large chasm shows the effects of it.--History and
Antiquities of Rochester.

[130] Antiquities of Kent--Rochester.

[131] In this we shall be guided by the authorities of Grose,
Denne, Kilburne, the Kentish Tourist, and the various archæological
and historical writers who have successively made the “Castrum
Cantuariorum” the subject of personal study and research; but still
reserving to ourselves the privilege of making such comments or
corrections as a personal investigation of the Castle shall appear to
warrant.

[132] History and Antiquities of Rochester Castle.

[133] In the old palace of Stuttgardt, the grand staircase is so
spacious, and so gradual in the ascent, that a cavalier might ascend
and descend without any difficulty. It is the old feudal mansion of the
Dukes of Wirtemberg, and possesses many striking characteristics of the
castles of that age and country.

[134] See the Work above quoted.

[135] See the Engraving, p. 146, with these arches.

[136] See also Mr. Dallaway on this subject; “Rape of Arundel;”
Discourses on Architecture, 277.

[137] From a dateless rescript in the Regist. Roff. it appears that
there was a Chapel in the Castle; but whether in this Tower, or some
other part, we cannot determine. “It was named the King’s Chapel, and
the ministers that officiated in it were called King’s Chaplains. Their
stipend was fifty shillings a-year.”

[138] From the many urns and lachrymatories found on Boley Hill, there
is no doubt but it was the burying-place of the Romans, when stationed
at Rochester. Denne’s Antiquit. Rochester.

[139] Military Architecture in England.--Dallaway, 285.

[140] Discourses.--Milit. Archit.

[141] Dallaway’s Discourses, etc.

[142] Military Architect. in England, p. 274. Antiq. of Rochester.

[143] Lambard, Perambul. ed. 1576.

[144] Antiquities, p. 148.

[145] Antiq. of Rochester.

[146] Ibid.

[147] Kentish Traveller, p. 140. Joneval, p. 85.

[148] Such were the general features of this bridge down to 1793, when
a series of improvements was commenced under the direction of Mr.
Alexander, a London architect. The breadth of the road-way then was
increased from fifteen to twenty-seven feet, by springing new arches
in every opening of the bridge from the points of the piers in the old
work, without any new foundations. The centre arch was then formed by
throwing the two middle arches into one, and is nearly as large as that
of Blackfriars, London; so that great convenience has been offered
to the navigation in the Medway above Rochester. The balustrade is
formed of white freestone, very substantial and elegant in appearance,
with commodious footpaths on either side; and the whole expense was
defrayed from the improved income of the bridge-estates, without
establishing any toll upon the thoroughfare. Since that period it has
undergone various minor repairs, and with the Castle in the background,
and the various trading craft passing and repassing with every tide,
few objects can be more pleasing and picturesque than the bridge of
Rochester.

[149] In the Dutch life and achievements of Van Ruyter, a goodly 4to,
there is a large engraving of Rochester, Upnor Castle, and the bridge,
with a most exaggerated picture of the engagement.

[150] Hist. of Rochester. Hist. of the War--Reign of Queen Elizabeth.

[151] Warton also mentions his having seen a ballad by Faire, called
“Gadshill,” under the year 1588; and adds in a note--See Clavell’s
“Recantation,” a poem in 4to, London, 1634. Clavell was a robber, and
here recites his adventures on the highway. His first depredations were
on Gadshill. Further particulars in the Kentish Traveller’s Companion,
ed. 1799.--Simmons and Kirby.

[152] Simul et videbatur voluntati religiosæ nomen applaudere, quod
Theokesburia dicatur quasi Theotokos-biria, id est, Dei genetricis
curia, vocabulo ex Græco et Anglicano composito. Will. Malmesbur. Edit.
fol. 1596, p. 162.

[153] Sir R. Atkyns, Rudder, Camden, Dyde, and the various
“Directories;” Notes on the Great Charters, Dugdale’s Monasticon,
Chron. of Tewkesb., etc.

[154] HĀNC · ĀVLĀM · RELIĀM · ÐODO · DVX · CONSECRĀRI · FECIT· IN
ECCLESIĀM · IN HONOREM · SĀNCTÆ · MĀRIÆ · VIRGINIS · Monast. f. 154.

[155] Dugdale, Leland.

[156] Speaking of the cell of Cranburne, belonging to
Tewkesbury:--Alredus Meauw, Comes Glocestriæ, primus
fundator.--Fabulabatur huic antiquitus monasterium Theokesbyri: sed
Robertus, filius Haimonis, comes Glocestriæ, dedit prædia hujus domus
monasterio de Theokesbirie.--See Dugd. p. 163.--Chronic. of Tewkesburye.

[157] Being sent as ambassador to the Court of Baldwin, Count of
Flanders, Brictric made so tender an impression upon the heart of the
Count’s daughter, Matilda, that, unable to disguise her partiality
for the English noble, she resolved to unite her destiny with his.
No object could delight her eye, no sound could charm her ear, but
the figure and voice of Brictric! But here the course of true love
did not run smooth--it ran all on one side; for, occupied perhaps
with politics, or haply with some early predilections nearer the
Severn, Brictric was obviously insensible to the tender appeal, and so
ungallant, moreover, as to treat the affections lavished upon him by
the fair Maud with a callousness of look and expression which proved
almost a death-blow to so doting a heart. The ambassador, however,
little consulted his own interest when he slighted these tender
overtures on the part of the maid of Flanders. But he lived in times
when plenipotentiaries were not so wise as they are in the present day;
for on the very first protocol being submitted to his consideration,
he broke off the negotiations and returned to England. For a time the
daughter of Baldwin was inconsolable. Like Queen Dido of old, she
exclaimed in great bitterness--for Latin was no mystery to the ladies
of her time--

    ----“Siquis mihi parvulus aula
     Luderet Æneas, qui te tantem ore referret,
     Non equidem capta ac deserta viderer,
     Crudelis”----

But while the lady was thus giving vent to her love in pathetic
hexameters, Brictric had arrived at Tewkesbury, little thinking of that
storm which was soon to burst on the shores of Britain, and in which he
was to be stripped of his ancient patrimony.

[158] In “France Monumentale” there is a full-length portrait of the
Conqueror, which bears a striking resemblance to that of Henry the
Eighth.

[159] Dudg. 154, 50.

[160] Fuerat Illiud monasterium primitus apud Craneburnam: sed abbatis
Giraldi prouisione, pro _vicini fluminis_ opportunitate, et dominicarum
terrarum contiguo. Theokesburiæ aptius locari visum. Will. Malmesbur.
(fol. 162.)

[161] Ibi nempe (Theokesburiæ) Cœnobium Sanctæ Mariæ, Robertus filius
Haimonis, super Sabrinam fluvium _construxerat et multis opibus
tempore_ Gulielmi junioris Anglorum regis affatim _locupletavit_. Ord.
Vital. Hist. Eccl. 600.

[162] His words are, (folio 162, edit. 1596,) “Est et monachorum
Theokesburiæ, quod noviter ROBERTUS FILIUS HAMONIS favore suo prouexit,
nec facile memoratu, quantum exaltavit vbi et ædificiorum decor, et
monachorum charitas aduentantium rapit oculos et allicit animos.” This
is a repetition of what the same writer has stated in the same words at
fol. 89, sect. 28-9.

[163] Order. Vitalis Histor. Ecclesiæ, p. 598-600. Giraldus autem in
veteri monasterio Sancti Petri Monachile Schema devote suscepit ...
unde post aliquod tempus ad regimen ecclesiasticum canonice provectus
est et Theokesburiæ primus <g>Abbas</g> effectus est.

[164] Willielm. Malmesbur. fol. 89, ed. 1596. Non tamen sine sanguine
tantam victoriam consummans multos ex charissimis amisit. Inter
quos Rogerium de Glocestre, probatum militem in obsessione Falesij
arcubalistæ jactu in capite percussum, præterea <g>Robertum filium
Haimonis</g> qui conto ictus tempora, hebetatusque ingenio non pauco
tempore, quasi captus mente, supervixit.... Robertus monasterium
Theokesburiæ suo favore, etc. This compliment is repeated at fol. 162.

[165] His high titles were--Prince of Glamorgan, Earl of Corboile,
Baron of Thorigny and of Granville, Lord of Gloucester, Bristol,
Caerdiff, and Tewkesbury, and near kinsman of the king. But having in
1091 made a descent into South Wales, slain its last prince, Rhys ap
Tewdwr, and subdued Glamorgan, he assumed in his charters the proud
title of Conqueror of Wales.--Hist. of Tewkesb.--Baronage.

[166] Robert of Gloucester, in commemorating these objections on the
part of the Lady Mabilia, and their removal and adjustment on that of
King Henry, gives the following shrewd and amusing dialogue. The king
having proposed to the heiress, as a state measure, that she should
give her hand to his son Robert, the lady, who was fully sensible that
the grand charm which made the King suitor for his son was her princely
“heritage,” answers him thus:

    _Mabel._ Sir, she saide, ich wote your herte upon me is
    More for myne heritage, than for myselfe, I wis;
    And suche heritage as ich have, itt were to mee grit shame
    To take a lorde but he haddé any surname.

    _K. Henry._ Damoseill, quod the Kingé, thou seest well in thys case,
    Sir Robert Fitz-Häyman thi faders namé was;
    As fayre a name he shall have, as you may see,
    SIR ROBERT LE FITZ-ROY shall his name be.
    Yea, Damoseill, he sayd, thy lorde shall have a name
    For him and for his heires, fayre without blame:
    For ROBERT EARL OF GLOUCESTRE his name shall be, and ’tis
    Hee shall be Earl of Gloucestre, and his heirés, I wis.

This declaration on the part of the king having instantly removed every
possible objection, the heiress no longer hesitates, but in great and
amiable simplicity answers--

    _Mabel._ Inne this forme, quod shee, ich wole that all my thyng be hys.

Robert, a monk of Gloucester, is supposed to have finished his rhyming
Chronicle about 1280.--Campbell’s Essay on English Poetry, note, p. 37.
This extract from the Chronicle is slightly modernized; but in Hearne’s
edit. vol. ii. 431, the reader will find it in its original purity.

[167] Hist. and Antiq. of Tewkesb.

[168] Dyde.

[169] It is extremely uncertain what Richard de Clare is alluded to in
the Baronial Covenant in the time of King John. The Richard who was
living nearest to the time died in 1200, 8vo. K. John; and in 1215 the
title was held by his eldest son Gilbert de Clare, who was also one
of the witnessing barons. See Milles, Catal. of Honor. Lond. 1610, p.
334, who states that this Richard died the 3 Kalend. Dec. in the year
1218. That this account is probable may be shown from the following
circumstance:--All genealogical writers agree that he married Amicia,
second daughter (and co-heiress) of the Earl of Gloucester, by whom he
had Gilbert his successor and a daughter.--Notes on the Great Charters,
271.

[170] Dugd. 1. 156. Dyde, 38. Leland. Collect. vol. i. p. 456.

[171] It is recorded among the memorabilia of this earl, that a Jew
having accidentally fallen into a common sewer on Saturday, refused all
assistance to extricate him from his loathsome prison, lest he should
profane the Sabbath of his nation. Richard de Clare, lord of the manor,
hearing of the circumstance and the man’s obstinacy, gave orders that
none should assist him on the Sunday, resolving to make him observe the
Christian Sabbath with the same solemnity with which he had observed
his own. But before Monday this strict observer of the ceremonies of
the law had fallen a victim to his conscientious scruples.--Dyde.

[172] Lord of the Isles, 267.

[173] Hist. and Antiq. of Tewkesb.--Dugdale, Chron.

[174] To the office of sacrist in the Abbey of Tewkesbury he
appropriated certain rents in Bristol: and to the priest who should
say the first mass for the soul of the said Guy every day at the altar
of St. Margaret in the church of Tewkesbury, with certain prayers
specified for his surviving kindred, and his kindred deceased, the mass
of the Trinity on Sunday, the mass of the Holy Ghost on Monday, the
mass of St. Thomas on Tuesday, the mass of the Holy Rest on Wednesday,
the mass of Ascension on Thursday, the mass of the Holy Cross on
Friday, the mass of St. Mary on Saturday--twenty-one pence weekly.
Farther, to him who should celebrate mass on his anniversary, or on
that of his wife Elizabeth--if the abbot, five shillings; if the prior,
three shillings and four-pence: to him who should read the Gospel, to
the reader of the Epistle, to him who should hold the paten, and to
the precentor and his two assistants, eight-pence each; to the prior
twelve-pence, and to every monk four-pence.--Monast. Anglican. I. 157.

[175] The custom of the day: trinkets, robes, needlework, apparel of
all kinds, were usually left to the church, which declined nothing by
way of gifts, from a coronet to a coral bead.--See the enumeration in
the Monast. Anglican. I. 157.

[176] Then under the guardianship of Edmund, Duke of York, who had
married him to Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Ralph Nevil, Earl of
Westmoreland. He left no issue, and was buried with his ancestors in
the Abbey church. Hist. and Antiq. of Tewkesb.

[177] See Dyde, Hist. and Antiq. Chron. of Tewkesb.

[178] Edward the Fourth confirmed all the privileges granted by his
ancestors to the Abbey of Tewkesbury, as well as the charter of fishing
in the Severn and Avon, granted by Warwick. Hist. of the Abbey, p. 48.

[179] Hist. and Antiq. of Tewkesbury, 1798, p. 51.

[180] Ibid.

[181] Edit. 1574, p. 164.

[182]

_Dimensions._--Original length of the Church, including the Lady Chapel, nearly  400 ft.
                    Length from east to west, in its present state                    300
                       “   of the great Cross Aisle                                   120
                    Breadth of the Choir and side Aisles                               70
                       “      “    West front                                         100
                    Height from the area to the roof of the Tower                     120


[183] Analysis of Cathedral Churches, &c.

[184] History of Gloucest.

[185]

    Here her deare Devonshiere, noble Covrtney, dyed;
    Her faithful friend great SOMERSET here fell.--DRAYTON.


[186] Ejus corpus, cum reliquis interfectorum cadaveribus, in proximo
Cœnobio monachorum ordinis Divi Benedicti humatur.

[187]

      LIVINGS.         PARSONAGES.     VICARAGES.
In Gloucestershire          4             10
   Worcestershire           2              2
   Warwickshire             2             --
   Wiltshire and Bristol    5              3
   Oxfordshire              1              2
   Somersetshire            3             --
   Devonshire              --              1
   Cornwall                --              2
   Glamorgan               --              5
   Dorsetshire             --              2


[188] Who had been put in possession of the ancient manor of Brictric
in the way already mentioned.

[189] In his observations on the value of silver at the time of the
Survey, 1086, Sir Robert Atkyns gives the following statement:--The
rate of necessaries which subsist human life is the true estimate of
money. Since, therefore, wheat-corn seems to be the _most_ necessary of
anything, we may best value _coin_ by the price of wheat in the several
ages. A bushel of wheat, soon after the Norman Conquest, was sold for
a penny, which was equal in weight to our threepence. At this day
(1729) a bushel of wheat, one year with another, may be valued at four
shillings, which is sixteen times the value of it six or seven hundred
years ago. The conclusion will be, that a man might live in that time
as well on twenty shillings a year of our money, as on sixteen pounds a
year at present. And, to carry it further, _two_ pounds money would buy
as much wheat as _ninety-six_ pounds of the present.--_Dyde_ on Atkyns’
Hist. Gloucest. 142. Hist. of the Abbey.

[190] “Anno Domini M.C. Nam idem <g>Rex</g> pridie ante necem suam,
vidit per somnum sese fleubotomiæ ictu sanguinem emittere, et
radium cruoris in cœlum usque extentum, lucem obnubilare, et Dei
interpellare claritatem. Rex autem Sancta Maria invocata et somno
excussus, lumen inferri præcepit, et cubicularios à se discedere
non permittens, residuum noctis insomne peregit. Mane verò cùm
aurora illuxisset, Monachus quidam transmarinus, qui pro ecclesiæ
suæ negotiis Regis curiam sequebatur, <g>Roberto filio Hamonis</g>
viro potenti et Regi familiari somnium retulit, quod nocte eadem
viderat mirificum et horrendum. Vidit enim per somnum Regem in
quandam venire ecclesiam, gestuque superbo et insolenti (ut solebat)
cœpit despicere circumstantes, ubi crucifixum dentibus apprehendens,
brachia illius corrosit, et crura pene detruncavit. Quod crucifixus
cum diu tolerasset, Regem demum dextro pede ita depulit, ut caderet
in pavimentum supinus: et ex ore jacentis tantam exire flammam
conspexit, et ita diffusam, ut fumorū nebula, quasi chaos magnum
usque ad sidera volitarat. Hanc visionem cùm <g>Robertus</g> Regi
retulisset, cachinnos ingeminans ait: Monachus est, et lucri causa
_monachiliter_ somniavit: da ei centum solidos, ne videatur inaniter
somniasse. Item videbatur Regi per somnium nocte proxima ante diem
mortis suæ, quòd vidit unum <g>Infantem</g> pulcherrimum super altare
quoddam, et cupiens et esuriens supra modum, adiit et corrosit de carne
infantis, et videbatur ei prædulce quod gustaverat: et volens plus
avidius sumere, infans torvo aspectu et voce minaci ait: Desisti, nimis
accepisti. Expergefactus à somno Rex, consoluit mane super hæc quendam
episcopum. Episcopus autem suspicans judicium vindictæ, ait: Desine Rex
bone à persecutione ecclesiæ præmonitio enim hæc Dei est, et beniga
castigatio; nec ut proposuisti, venatum eas. Rex contemnens salutaria
monita, in sylvas venatum ivit. Et ecce casu, cervus magnus cum ante
eum transiret, ait Rex cuidam militi, scilicet Waltero Tyrell: Trahe,
diabole. Exiit ergò telum volatile, de quo bene et vere potuit dici, et
vaticinio denotari,

    Et semel emissum volat irrevocabile telum.

Et obstante arbore, in obliquum reflexum faciens, per medium cordis
Regem sauciavit, qui subito mortuus corruit. Sui autem, et præcipuè
miles ille, in partes fugerunt. Aliqui tum redeuntes corpus in sanguine
suo circumvolutum et tabefactum, supra bigam cujusdam carbonatoris
imposuerunt fragilem, et macilentissimo jumento vno tractam. Rusticulus
igitur coactus corpus ad civitatem transportare, dum transiret per
quandam profundam et lutosam viam, fracta biga sua debili, corpus,
immo cadaver rigidum et fœtens, in luto circumvolutum, volentibus
asportare dereliquit. Eadem hora Comes Cornubiæ, in sylva, ab illa in
qua hæc acciderant per duas dietas distante, dum venatum iret, et solus
casu à suis sodalibus relinqueretur, obviavit _magno piloso et nigro
hirco_, ferenti Regem nigrum et nudum per medium pectoris sauciatum.
Et adjuratus hircus per Deum-trinum-et-unum quid hoc esset, respondit:
Fero ad judicium suum Regem Vestrum, immo tyrannum <g>Willielmum
Rufum</g>. Malignus enim spiritus sum, et ultor maliciæ suæ, qua
desævit in ecclesiam Christi, et hanc suam necem procuravi, imperante
promartyre Angliæ beato Albano, qui questus est Domino, quòd in sula
Britanniæ, cujus ipse fuit primus sacrator, supra modum grassaretur.
Comes igitur hæc sociis statim narravit. Infra triduum autem hæc omnia
vera reperit, per mediatores oculata fide expertus.”--Matth. Par. p.
51-2, fol. ed. 1565.

[191] “The Dictum de Kenilworth,” here referred to, was made by twelve
persons, bishops and peers of the king’s selection; the object of which
was to soften the severity of the parliament holden at Winchester,
which had entirely confiscated the estates of the rebels and their
adherents; instead of which, this decree--that they might not be
rendered desperate--sentenced them only to a pecuniary fine of not more
than five years’ income of their estates, nor less than two.--Hist.

[192] “Of this Erle speaketh Ranulph, Monke of Chester, in his
Policronion, and calleth him Symon the ryghtwise, sayinge that God
wrought for him _miracles_ after his deth: The whyche, for fere of
the kynge and Sir Edwarde, his sonne, were kept close and secret, so
that no man durst speke of theym.” Fabyan. 358. Not only the Monk of
Chester, however, but also Matthew of St. Albans, gravely records the
same popular belief; for it was supposed that, having fallen in defence
of the national liberty and in the performance of his oath, his death
was that of a martyr: and afterwards, when free utterance could be
given to this opinion without fear of the court, the clergy was reviled
for not granting him the honours of canonization. “Sir Symon” was a
brave soldier; and, compared with other saints of his day, would have
been no disgrace to the calendar.

[193] “He spent,” says Lombard, “greatlie upon it; in so much, as
Leland wryteth, that he consumed a round table and tresselles of massie
golde, which the same King Edward had not long before made to honoure
the knighthood of that order withall.”

[194] In the old Baronage, vol. i., p. 143, the circumstances attending
this splendid fête are thus somewhat differently and more fully
related:--Having procured the honour of knighthood to be conferred upon
him by Edward the First, Mortimer, at his own cost, caused a tournament
to be held at Kenilworth, where he sumptuously entertained a hundred
knights and as many ladies for three days, the like whereof was never
before in England; and there began the Round-table--so called by reason
that the place wherein they practised those feats was environed with a
strong wall, made in a round form. Upon the fourth day, at the close of
the fête, the golden lion, in sign of triumph, being yielded to him, he
carried it, with all the company, to Warwick. The fame thereof being
spread into foreign countries, occasioned the Queen of Navarre to send
unto him certain wooden bottles, bound with golden bars and wax, under
the pretence of wine, which, in truth, were all _filled with gold_, and
for many ages after were kept in the Abbey of Wigmore--whereupon, for
the love of that queen, the said Sir Roger Mortimer added a carbuncle
to his arms.

[195] Of both these apartments, as of the White Hall, nothing now
remains but fragments of walls and staircases, and a part of two
large bow windows; the inner of which, like those of the hall, is
picturesquely festooned with ivy.--Notes.

[196] Isabel, daughter of Philip the Fair, King of France, married in
her twelfth year to Edward, Jan. 22, 1308, in the church of Our Lady at
Boulogne, was “his wife twenty years, his widow thirty, and died at the
age of sixty-three.”--See ELTHAM HALL, in this work.

[197] By his first wife, the countess of Kenilworth, he had, besides
his son and heir (Henry de Bolingbroke), two daughters, Philippa, Queen
of Portugal, and Elizabeth, Countess of Pembroke. By his second wife,
Constance, daughter of the King of Portugal, he had another daughter,
Catherine, who became consort of the Spanish king. And by Catherine
Swinford, his third wife, he had five sons, namely, John Beaufort,
Earl of Somerset; Henry, Bishop of Winchester; Thomas, Earl of Dorset,
afterwards Duke of Exeter; and a daughter, Joan, who married, first,
Sir Robert Ferrers, and secondly, the Earl of Westmoreland.--Dugd. Bar.
art. Lancast.

[198] Harrison.

[199] Holinshed.

[200] Among other repairs and alterations, he is said to have caused
the “banqueting-house,” erected by Henry the Fifth, to be taken down,
and part of it to be rebuilt within the base-court, near the Swan
Tower. But the “banqueting-house” here mentioned, appears to have been
the same as that already noticed as “le Plaisant Marais.”

[201] Book ii. Chap. 15. Surely one may say of such a guest, what
Cicero says to Atticus on occasion of a visit paid him by Cæsar:
“Hospes tamen non es cui diceres, Amabo te, eodem ad me cùm revertere.”
Lib. xiii. Ep. 52. If she relieved the people from oppressions (to
whom it seems the law could give no relief), her visits were a great
oppression on the nobility.--See Hume.

[202] Among other embellishments of the “great chamber of state,” was a
most sumptuous <g>Chimney-piece</g>, composed of alabaster or marble,
richly carved and gilt. It was usually of very large dimensions,
widely spread, and reaching from the floor to the ceiling. There were
sometimes statues placed within columns and niches, which represented
some of the cardinal virtues, or grotesque termini, in the Roman
manner, then lately introduced into this country. The whole was painted
with gaudy colours; and the armorial bearings of the family, in one
large escóchéon, or the quarterings dispersed into many others, were
an indispensable decoration. In certain instances, the chimney-piece
was of carved freestone, left plain. The almost perfect resemblance of
these to the superb monuments which in that age were dedicated to the
memory of the dead, leave no doubt that the original idea had the same
analogy. Of this opinion one most splendid instance will suffice--that
of the mausoleum of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, in the Beauchamp
Chapel, Warwick, and the CHIMNEY-PIECE (see preceding
Woodcut) of Kenilworth Castle.--Dallaway’s Discourses, page 363, 364.

[203] Hock-Tuesday, Hoke-day, or Hoke-tide. The origin of this once
popular game, or play, which the author of Kenilworth describes as
being represented to the Queen by the men of Coventry, is involved
in considerable obscurity. By some writers it is supposed to be
commemorative of the massacre of the Danes, in the reign of Ethelred,
on the 13th of November, 1002; whilst by others, the deliverance of
the English from the tyranny of the Danes by the death of Hardicanute,
on Tuesday, the 8th of June, 1042, is pointed out as its origin. The
weight of argument preponderates in favour of the national deliverance
by Hardicanute’s death: and it must not be forgotten, that the festival
was celebrated on a Tuesday, and that Hoke-Tuesday was the Tuesday
in the second week after Easter. Spelman derives the term from the
German Hocken, in reference to the act of binding, which was formerly
practised by the women upon the men on Hoke-Tuesday; an opinion which
Mr. Denne has well supported. [Archæolog. vol vii. p. 244.] A payment,
called Hock-Tuesday money, was anciently made by the tenant to the
landlord, for the permission given by the latter to the former to
celebrate the festivities of this memorable day. [Jac. Law Dic. in
verb.] Whatever the etymology of its name, or the origin of the game
itself might be, its subject was the massacre of the Danes, expressed
in actions and rhymes, and acted annually in the town of Coventry,
till its suppression, shortly after the Reformation. It consisted of
fierce sham contests between the English and Danish forces; first by
the “launce knights,” on horseback, armed with spears and shields, who,
being many of them dismounted, then fought with swords and targets.
Afterwards succeeded two “hosts of footmen,” one after the other; first
marching in ranks, then facing about in military array, then changing
their form from ranks into squadrons, then into triangles, then into
rings, and then, “winding out again, they joined in battle. Twice the
Danes had the better; but at the last conflict they were beaten down,
overcome, and many of them led captive for triumph by our English
women.”--Illustration of the Waverley Novels, vol. iii. p. 45.

[204] In Lands, £16,431 9_s._ In Woods, £11,722 2_s._ The Castle,
£10,401 4_s._--Total, £38,554 15_s._ Thus the whole demesne, including
the Castle, is valued little more than the half of what, only a few
years previously, Dudley had expended in improvements.

[205] The romance of this story is certainly not improved by the fact,
that the gallant knight had left behind him one who justly claimed
him as her husband, namely, the Lady Alice Leigh. “But,” says the
author of the Baronage, “to countenance his marriage with Mistress
Southwell, he did allege his marriage with the said Lady Alice Leigh
to be by the canon law illegal, inasmuch as, &c.,” and obtaining a
papal _dispensation_ for that purpose, espoused [Biog.] “the said
Blanche Southwell at Florence, who, as well as other members of her
family, was not aware,” according to the MS., “of the Knight’s previous
engagement.”--ED.

[206] This was Doctor Julio, or Giuglio. Camden says that the disgrace
of Archbishop Grindal was owing “to his having condemned the unlawful
marriage of this Julio, an Italian physician, with another man’s wife,
while Leicester in vain opposed his proceedings therein.”

[207] This legend is preserved in two manuscripts now in the British
Museum (MS. Harl. No. 3776, and MS. Cotton., Julius, D VI.), both
of which formerly belonged to Waltham Abbey, and were written in
the twelfth century, the date of both the manuscripts. It was to
the following effect:--In the time of King Canute, there lived at
Lutegaresberi a smith, a man remarkable for the simplicity of his
life, and respected amongst his neighbours for his virtues. One night
he had a vision--an angel appeared to him, and directed him to repair
early in the morning to the priest, and exhort him to proceed in solemn
procession to the top of the hill, and there dig. The smith passed it
over as a mere dream; but the warning was repeated the following night.
He then consulted his wife, and by her advice again disregarded the
injunction of the angel; but the latter repeated his visit on the third
night, and threatened him with severe punishment for his continued
disobedience. On the morrow the smith arose, and told his dream to the
priest, who proceeded immediately with the town’s people to the summit
of the hill, where, after digging according to their directions, they
found a large cross, with a smaller one, a little bell, and a book.
(Ecce repentè apparuit oculis intuentium inestimabilis imago decoris
crucifixi Salvatoris ex atro silice sic manuum extensione et omnium
corporis liniamentorum compositione miro fabrili et inaudito opere
composita, ut ipsius summi artificis manibus perpendens operatam,
et sub dextro ipsius brachiis alteram crucifixi effigiem modicam in
sinistra parte, nolam antiqui operis quales bestiarum collo applicare
solet antiquitas, ne iudesuetione insolescant, librum etiam cognomento
<g>Nigrum Tertum</g> sicut vix perpendere possumus Evangeliorum quem
usque hodiè celebrem habet Walthamensis ecclesia propter multa quæ ipsi
oculis nostris perspeximus miracula.) Having made known their discovery
to Earl Tovi, they placed the cross on a cart, to which they yoked
three red oxen and three white cows. Uncertain whither to convey their
precious burden, the priest uttered in succession the names of the most
famous monasteries of that day, such as Dover, Winchester, Glastonbury,
London, &c., but the oxen and cows remained fixed to the spot. At
length some one mentioned by accident the name of Waltham, when the
animals immediately put themselves in motion, and conducted the cart
to that place, amid the acclamations of the people, and of the crowds
of cripples and invalids who were cured on the way by the miraculous
influence of the cross. This story was long implicitly believed by our
superstitious forefathers.

[208] See the Vita Haroldi, in the Chroniques Anglo-Normandes, Rouen,
1836, tom. ii. p. 156. The portions of the other Waltham Legend (De
Inventione Sanctæ Crucis Walthamensis), which relate more particularly
to the history of Harold, are printed in the same work.

[209] Jaciuntur festinato ecclesiæ amplioris fundamenta, surgunt
parietes, columpuæ sublimes distantes ab invicem, parietes arcuum
aut testudinum emicidiis mutuo fœderantur, culmen impositum
æris ab introgressis plumbei objectivæ laminis variam secludit
intemperiem.--Vita Haroldi, p. 161.

[210] Venusto enim admodum opere ecclesiam à fundamentis constructam
laminis æreis, auro undique superducto, capita columnarum et bases
flexurasque arcuum ornare fecit mirâ distinctione.--De Invent. Sanct.
Cr. Waltham.

[211] De Invent. Sanctæ Crucis Waltham. p. 231.

[212] Decano cessit præ cæteris Westwaltham, ut aliis in eo
præcelleret, qui primatum et regimen cæterorum habebat, in victualibus
etiam aliquantisper magis auctus, _quid pluribus habebat benefacere
quam simplex canonicus_.

[213] Ailric was probably the schoolmaster of the Abbey, for we know
that a school was part of Harold’s foundation.

[214] This is the story given in the treatise, De Inventione Sanctæ
Crucis Walthamensis.

[215] This legend forms the body of the Vita Haroldi, printed, with
the treatise De Invent. Sanct. Cr. Waltham., in the Chroniques
Anglo-Normandes.

[216] Vita Haroldi, pp. 162, 163. De Invent. S. Crucis, pp. 252, 253.

[217] MS. Harl. No. 3776, fol. 3, iº and vº.

[218] Hanc insuper ecclesiam, quasi novam Christi sponsam nova dote,
sicut decebat, dignum duximus esse ditandam.--The alliteration in this
passage is remarkable.

[219] Matthew Paris, sub ann. See Fuller’s History of Waltham Abbey, p.
21.

[220] The account of these disputes is chiefly taken from Fuller, and
from Farmer’s History of Waltham Abbey.

[221] Farmer’s History of Waltham Abbey, p. 100.

[222] A dark vaulted structure of two divisions connected with the
Convent Garden, is all that remains of the old Abbey House, the
residence of the Dennys; even the large mansion erected on its site,
of which a view is given in Farmer’s History of Waltham Abbey, has
been long demolished. In the Convent Garden, which is now tenanted by
a market-gardener, there is a tulip-tree, remarkable equally for its
magnitude and antiquity. The Abbey mills are still used as a cornmill.

[223] Cujus corporis translationi, quum sic se habebat status ecclesiæ
fabricandi, vel devotio fratrum reverentiam corpori exhibentium, nunc
extremæ memini me tertio affuisse, et, sicut vulgo celebre est et
attestationes antiquorum audivimus, plagas ipsis ossibus impressas
oculis corporeis et vidisse et manibus contrectam.--Chron. Anglo-Norm,
tom. ii. p. 250.

[224] The following attested account of this discovery is preserved by
Fuller, in his Worthies:--

“The ensuing relation, written by the pen of Master Thomas Smith, of
Sewarstone, in the parish of Waltham Abbey, a discreet person, not long
since deceased.

“It so fell out that I served Sir Edward Denny (towards the latter
end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth of blessed memory), who lived in
the Abbey of Waltham Cross, in the county of Essex, which at that
time lay in ruinous heaps; and then Sir Edward began slowly now and
then to make even and re-edify some of that chaos. In doing whereof,
Tomkins, his gardener, came to discover (among other things) a fair
marble stone, the cover of a tomb hewed out in hard stone: this cover,
with some help, he removed from off the tomb; which having done, there
appeared to the view of the gardener, and Master Baker, minister of the
town (who died long since), and to myself and Master Henry Knagg (Sir
Edward’s bailiff), the anatomy of a man lying in the tomb abovesaid,
only the bones remaining, bone to his bone, not one bone dislocated.
In observation whereof, we wondered to see the bones still remaining
in such due order, and no dust or other filth besides them to be seen
in the tomb: we could not conceive that it had been an anatomy of
bones only, laid at first in the tomb; yet if it had been the whole
carcass of a man, what became of his flesh and entrails? For (as I
have said above) the tomb was clean from all filth and dust, besides
bones. This when we had all observed, I told them, that if they did but
touch any part thereof, that all would fall asunder, for I had only
heard somewhat formerly of the like accident. Trial was made, and so
it came to pass. For my own part, I am persuaded, that as the flesh of
this anatomy to us became invisible, so likewise would the bones have
been in some longer continuance of time. O! what is man then, which
vanisheth thus away, like unto smoke or vapour, and is no more seen!
Whosoever thou art that shalt read this passage, thou mayst find cause
of humility sufficient.”

In Mr. Edgar Taylor’s translation of “Master Wace, his Chronicle of
the Norman Conquest,” (London, 1837,) p. 259, is given a beautiful
drawing from a manuscript of the thirteenth century, representing the
deposition of the body of King Harold in his tomb at Waltham.

[225] According to the parish books, quoted by Farmer, (History of
Waltham Abbey,) p. 149, the sum of £100 was expended between 1669 and
1672; £46 4_s._ 10_d._ in 1674; £64 13_s._ 5-1/2_d._ in 1679; and £78
5_s._ 2_d._ in 1680.

[226] MS. Cotton. Julius D. VI. fol. 117, vº, nearly contemporary.

[227] Ricardus Pungiant tenet Latelie. Aluuardus tenuit de Rege
Eadwardo, et potuit ire quo voluit.

[228] This matrix was exhibited before the Society of Antiquaries
of London, by the Rev. John Brand, Jan. 26, 1797. An account of it,
and the other seals, will be found in the thirteenth volume of the
Archæologia.

[229] This grant is mentioned in the Placit. de Quo Warranto, of the
9th Edw. I.; but in the original document the name is _Nottele_ (not,
as quoted in the common books, _Notele_), and it is probable that the
grant has no reference to Netley in Hampshire.

[230] The legend says it was the key-stone of the east window; but that
is still standing.

[231] The college Combination-Rooms were formerly called Parlours
(_parluræ_).

[232] The work from which this anecdote is taken is inedited, and
exists only in one contemporary manuscript. The story has been printed
from it in the first volume of the Reliquiæ Antiquæ, by Wright and
Halliwell.

[233] J. Bullar’s Companion in a Visit to Netley Abbey, p. 10.

[234] Tot enim videas piscium genera, assa quidem et elixa, farta et
frixa; tot ovis et pipere cibaria cocorum arte confecta; tot sapores
et salsamenta ad gulam irritandam et appetitum excitandum eorundem
arte composita. Ad hæc etiam in tanta abunduntia vinum hic videas et
ciceram, pigmentum, claretum, mustum, et medonem, atque moretum, et
omne quod inebriare potest, adeo ut cervisia qualis in Anglia fieri
solet optima, et præcipue in Cantia, locum inter cætera nou haberet;
sed hoc ibi cervisia inter pocula, quod olus inter fercula.--Giraldus
Cambr. Specul. Eccles. in MS. Cotton. He is here speaking of the
Cistercian monks of Canterbury.

[235] “And the wicked Ham with his people drew him towards the
wood:--Arviragus followed him, and continually struck [his men] to
the ground. At last he gained very little by his treason; he overtook
him at a haven, and slew him right there:--it were little harm if
all traitors were served so. The haven where he was slain, after
Ham’s name truly, was called Hampton, as it is called yet,--for it is
called Southhampton, and will be evermore.”--_Robert of Gloucester’s
Chronicle_, ed. Hearne, p. 64.

[236] Of which a description and view will be found in the present
volume, p. 37. See also Appendix, p. 338.