Part 7

One holy Henry rear’d the Gothic walls, And bade the pious inmates rest in peace; Another Henry the kind gift recalls, And bids devotion’s hallow’d echoes cease.”

The following is a list of the successive priors (not abbots) of this house so far as at present ascertained:--

Eustace, 1216. Richard, 1216. Aldred, 1230. Robert, 1234. William, 1241. William de Mottisfont, 1267. John de Lexinton, resigned, 1288. Richard de Hallam, 1288. Richard de Grange, 1293. William de Thurgarton, 1324. Hugh de Collingham, 1349. William de Collingham, resigned, 1356. John de Wylesthorp, resigned, 1366. William de Allerton, 1366. John de Hucknall, 1406. William Bakewell, 1417. Thomas Carleton, 1422. Robert Cutwolfe, 1423. William Misterton, 1455. John Durham, 1461. Thomas Gunthorp, 1467. William Sandale, 1504. John Blake, 1526.

Immediately on the surrender being accomplished the custody of the house was handed over to Sir John Byron of Colwick. In May 1540, Sir John Byron was put into legal possession of the house, site, church, steeple, churchyard, and of all the lands, mills, advowsons, rectories, and of the late priory in return for the then large sum of about £800 handed over to the Crown.

This Sir John Byron was by no means the mushroom man, like so many of Cromwell and Henry VIII.’s _novi homines_ who were bribed with monastic estates to support the policy of reckless confiscation, not a few of whom found further reward in the creation of peerages. This “Little Sir John with the Big Beard” was descended from the Byrons who had fought at Crecy, was grand-nephew of the Byron of Bosworth Field, and he himself had helped to turn Henry Tudor into Henry VII.

No sooner had the canons been turned adrift than the great conventual church, 257 feet in length, the nave of which had always been reserved for quasi-parochial use by the tenants on the prior’s estates, was deliberately unroofed and dismantled. The great block of the conventual buildings, surrounding the cloisters, on the immediate south of the church, were preserved by Sir John, the south transept with its stone Maundy seat, escaped destruction, as it completed the square of the buildings now occupied as a domestic residence. He is said to have moved the fountain, or water-conduit, which occupied the centre of the cloister garth, to the west front of his reconstructed house. Among the more striking survivals of the work of the first lay-owner of the priory are two brilliantly coloured overmantels, carved with busts in relief of Henry VIII. and other contemporary personages.

The successive owners of Newstead Priory were:--

Sir John Byron, who died in 1576.

Sir John Byron (2), who died in 1609. He was the founder of the Hucknall Broomhill charity. In June 1603 he entertained at the priory Queen Anne of Denmark and her son Prince Henry, when on their way from Scotland to join James I. in London.

Sir John Byron (3), who died in 1625.

Sir John Byron (4), M.P. for Nottingham, a faithful adherent of Charles II.; he was created Lord Byron, with remainder to his brother, in 1643; he died in Paris in 1652.

Richard Lord Byron, the defender of Newark, succeeded his brother, and died in 1679; he entertained Charles II. at Newstead.

His son William, the third baron, died in 1695; his wife, Lady Elizabeth, gave the large silver-gilt chalice and paten to the church of Hucknall Torkard.

William, the fourth baron, son of the third, died in 1736.

His son William, the fifth baron, known as “Devil Byron,” who killed William Chaworth in a duel, died, without surviving issue, in 1798.

George Gordon, the sixth Lord Byron, the poet, was great-nephew of the fifth baron. His two predecessors had seriously embarrassed the estate; it was so heavily mortgaged that in 1814 he finally left Newstead, to his intense grief, and after prolonged negotiations, the property passed, in 1817, into the hands of his friend and schoolfellow Colonel Wildman.

Colonel Wildman, at great cost and with considerable taste, considering the general lack of taste of those days, proceeded to rescue the priory from its deplorable condition. He replaced the water-conduit in the centre of the cloisters; removed a disfiguring stone stairway; and generally altered the interior in an endeavour to restore as much as possible the original features. At a later period he erected the Sussex tower, in commemoration of the visit of the Duke of Sussex. He left the beautiful pile of buildings in much the same condition as it is at present.

After the Colonel’s death, the priory and estate were bought in 1860 by the late Mr. W. F. Webb. Under Mr. Webb’s guidance “the work of restoration and beautifying was piously and intelligently continued; he made it one of the chief aims of his life to increase both the historical and Byronic interests of the place.” Since his death the greatest care and good taste have continued to be expended on the house, and more particularly on the gardens and grounds, by his daughters, Lady Chermside and Miss Webb.

Space entirely prohibits any attempt at a full or technical description of the ancient conventual church, and the buildings round the cloister garth which still retain, notwithstanding the frequent alterations, so many distinctive features of their original erection, at different periods for monastic purposes. The writer has had the advantage of making a fairly thorough survey of the priory in both the “seventies” and “eighties” of last century, and again during the twentieth century under the intelligent guidance of his late valued friend, the Rev. R. H. Whitworth, chaplain of Newstead, and for upwards of forty years vicar of the adjacent parish of Blidworth. To describe Newstead adequately would require at least the whole of this volume.

Mr. Whitworth loved every stone of Newstead and every detail of its story. Not long before his death he gave to the writer the accompanying plan (together with many memoranda) the work of his own pen, and though not entirely accurate in dimensions or lettering, it is of real interest, and it is a pleasure to reproduce it in facsimile.

All that can here be put on record are a few cursory remarks on certain remaining details, chiefly taken from Mr. Whitworth’s memoranda. The exceeding beauty of the west front of the church, with its delicacy of execution, of the best period of the reign of Edward I., is well known to all lovers of England’s ecclesiastical architecture. Sir John Byron, leaving the stately front as an ornament in line with the front of his reconstructed house, made so clean a sweep of the once stately church right up to the eastern end, that the smooth turf shows not a trace of even the foundations of the piers. It is characteristic of the semi-pagan character of the poet Byron that though he could vigorously upbraid the sacrilegious conduct of Henry VIII. and his myrmidons in ejecting the canons and in silencing all strains of worship “within these hallowed walls,” he did not apparently realise the unhappy inconsistency and gross irreverence of burying his favourite dog “Boatswain” on the holiest spot of this consecrated site and placing a monument over its body!

Grievous as was the uprooting of this once stately church, it is impossible not to feel grateful to Sir John Byron for the preservation of the exquisite chapter house of the priory with its beautiful groined roof supported by two pillars of clustered banded shafts. It is situated, according to the invariable monastic custom, on the eastern side of the cloisters, separated from the south transept of the church by a slype or passage; it is of similar date to the west front of the church. Tradition has it that the first Sir John Byron had this chapter house set apart for use as a domestic chapel, and for that purpose it is still used.

In common with other monks and canons, the inmates of Newstead Priory, when they knew the storm was about to break, endeavoured to conceal some of their ornaments and valuables ere they were inventoried. They flung into the water of the lake in front of their house a fine pair of great brass altar candlesticks, originally 4 feet 6½ inches high (they have been raised 10½ inches), together with the brass eagle which served as a Gospel lectern. These were accidentally found and recovered from the lake about 1780. Hoping perchance some day to reoccupy their old home, the canons packed tightly the cavity of the globe on which the eagle rested with a selection of their parchment title-deeds, dating from Edward III. down to Henry VIII. When fished up, in the days of that evil spendthrift, the fifth Lord Byron, the eagle and candlesticks were sold to a Nottingham dealer in old metals. They were repurchased by Sir Richard Kaye, rector of Kirkby; he was a canon of Southwell, and they are still in the honoured possession of that cathedral church. The eagle bore an inscription asking for prayers for the souls of Ralph Savage, the donor, and for all the faithful departed; he was the founder of a chantry in the year 1488, in the Derbyshire church of North Wingfield.

Like so many old residences formed out of ancient monasteries, Newstead has the reputation of being haunted, and that by more than one spectre. But the name and fate of the last of the Byrons has overclouded and obscured all previous tenants, mortal or otherwise, and flung the pall of poetic melancholy over the domains such as no spiritual imaginations can survive. The legends connected with Newstead are many, and descend from that mysterious maid of Saracen birth or residence, whose form and features are so frequently repeated in the ancient panel work of the priory’s interior, down to Lord Byron’s immediate predecessor in the title and estates. “Devil Byron,” as this man was called, among other wild tales connected with his name was said to be himself haunted by the spirit of a sister, to whom he refused to speak for years preceding her death in consequence of a family scandal, notwithstanding her heart-rending appeals. Ebenezer Elliot, in a ballad he wrote on this legend, introduces the apparitions of both Devil Byron and his sister as riding forth together in stormy weather, the lady still making passionate appeals to the immovable brother to speak to her[40]:--

“Well sleep the dead; in holy ground, Well sleeps the heart of iron, The worm that pares his sister’s cheek, What cares it for Byron?

Yet when her night of death comes round, They ride and drive together, And ever, when they ride or drive, All wilful is the weather.

On mighty winds in spectre coach, Fast speeds the heart of iron, On spectre steed, the spectre dame, Side by side with Byron.

Oh, ‘Night doth love her,’ O the clouds, They do her form environ, The lightning weeps--he hears her sob, ‘Speak to me! Lord Byron!’

On winds, on clouds, they ride, they drive, Oh hark thou heart of iron, The thunder whispers mournfully, ‘O speak to her, Lord Byron!’”

Another family apparition which is said to have haunted the old priory was “Sir John Byron the Little with the Big Beard.” An ancient portrait of this mysterious ancestor was some years since seen hanging over the door of the great saloon, and was sometimes at midnight said to descend from its sombre frame and promenade the state apartments. Indeed this ancient worthy’s visitations were not confined merely to nightfall; one young lady on a visit years ago positively asserted that in broad daylight, the door of his former chamber being opened, she saw Sir John the Little sitting by the fireplace and reading out of an old-fashioned book.

Several other apparitions have been seen from time to time about this ancient, time-honoured building. Washington Irving mentions that a young lady, a cousin of Lord Byron’s, on one occasion slept in the room next the clock, and when she was in bed she saw a lady in white come out of the wall on one side of the room, and go into the wall on the other side. Many curious noises and strange sights have been heard and seen by many visitors at Newstead; but the best known and most noted spectre connected with the place and immortalised by Byron’s verse is the “Goblin Friar.” The particular chamber that this spectre is supposed specially to frequent, and which is known _par excellence_ as the Haunted Chamber, adjoins Byron’s bedroom. During the poet’s residence this dismal-looking room was occupied by his page, who is said to have been a youth of striking beauty. Lord Byron and many others not only believed in the existence of the Black Friar, but asserted that they had really seen it. It did not confine its visitations to the Haunted Chamber, but, at night, walked into the cloisters, and other parts of the Priory.

“A monk arrayed In cowl and beads and dusky garb appeared, Now in the moonlight and now lapsed in shade, With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard.”

This apparition was the evil genius of the Byrons, and its appearance foreshadowed misfortune of some kind to the member of the family by whom it was seen. Lord Byron fully believed that he beheld this apparition a short time before the greatest misfortune of his life, his ill-starred union with Miss Milbanke. Alluding to his faith in these things, he said:--

“I merely mean to say, what Johnson said, That in the course of some six thousand years, All nations have believed that from the dead A visitant at intervals appears; And what is strangest upon this strange head Is that whatever bar the reason rears ’Gainst such belief, there’s something stronger still In its behalf, let those deny who will.”

And he thus introduces the presumed duties, as it were, of the Black Friar:--

“By the marriage bed of their lords, ’tis said, He flies on the bridal eve, And ’tis held as faith, to their bed of death He comes, but not to grieve.

When an heir is born, he is bound to mourn, And when aught is to befall That ancient line, in the pale moonshine, He walks from hall to hall.

His form you may trace, but not his face, ’Tis shadowed by his cowl, But his eyes may be seen, from the folds between, And they seem of a parted soul.”

However capable as a poet, Byron was clearly no student of monastic affairs. Otherwise he would have known that anything more unlikely than the residence of a Black or Dominican Friar within a house of Black Canons could hardly have taken place. But to him, as to many modern writers, including several of our leading novelists, monks, canons, and friars, though absolutely distinct, are of one and the same order.

The apartments occupied by Lord Byron, bedroom, dressing-room, and small haunted chamber--supposed to have been originally the prior’s lodgings--are carefully kept in the same state as when occupied by the poet. Other rooms over the cloisters, hung with suitable tapestry, are named after Edward III., Henry VII., and Charles II.; they are said to have been respectively occupied by these Kings when visiting the priory.

WOLLATON HALL

BY J. A. GOTCH, F.S.A.

Nottinghamshire is not rich in ancient houses; for although it can boast of many fine seats, they are either comparatively modern in date, or they have been so much altered as to have lost their ancient character. By far the most interesting architecturally is Wollaton Hall, close to Nottingham, the seat of Lord Middleton.

It was built in the reign of Elizabeth by Sir Francis Willoughby, whose family had lived for several generations in a house near the church. Sir Francis left no son, but his eldest daughter and co-heir married her cousin Percival Willoughby, who succeeded in her right to the Wollaton property. He was among the earliest of the gentry knighted by King James I. on his accession to the English throne, receiving that honour at Worksop on April 20, 1603. He died about the beginning of the Civil War; his son, another Sir Francis, succeeded him, and was in turn followed by his only son, Francis, the celebrated traveller and naturalist. Francis Willoughby achieved a great reputation as a scientist, and was one of the first members of the Royal Society. He died in 1672 at the early age of thirty-seven. To him eventually succeeded his second son, Thomas, who was created Lord Middleton in 1711 by Queen Anne. He also left a daughter, Cassandra, who married the Duke of Chandos, and is interesting to us because of some notes concerning her ancestral home which she left behind her.

Wollaton Hall is sometimes quoted as a typical example of the work of the English Renaissance. Those who are in sympathy with that phase of domestic architecture point to it as a magnificent specimen of an Elizabethan palace. Those who are out of sympathy direct the finger of scorn to its extravagances and its pretentiousness. As a matter of fact it cannot be called a typical example. In its chief characteristics it stands by itself, namely, in its lofty central hall and its four corner pavilions. In its extreme regularity of treatment, and in the great care bestowed upon its detail, it exhibits far more of conscious effort in design than the majority of houses built at that period.

The interesting question is, Who was responsible for the design of Wollaton? So little is really known from actual records of the architectural designers of that period, or of their method of work, that the field of conjecture is a vast one, and offers scope for manœuvres on a large scale. But there are one or two facts connected with this house which help us to a certain extent. We know from the inscription over the garden door that it was built by Sir Francis Willoughby, constructed with uncommon art, and left as a precious possession to the Willoughbys. It was begun in 1580 and finished in 1588. The actual inscription runs thus, and consists of two hexameters--

“En has Francisci Willughbi militis ædes Rara arte extructas Willughboeisq relictas. Inchoatæ 1580 et finitæ 1588.”

We also know that in John Thorpe’s collection of drawings in the Soane Museum in London there is a ground-plan of the house and half the front elevation. We also find in Wollaton Church a monument to “Mr. Robert Smythson, gent. architector and surveyor unto the most worthy house of Wollaton and diverse others of great account,” who died in 1614 at the age of seventy-nine. There are also some drawings relating to Wollaton in the valuable collection belonging to Col. Coke of Brookhill, near Alfreton. These belonged to a John Smithson, architect, of Bolsover, and were largely his own handiwork. The drawings of Wollaton comprise a plan of the house with forecourts, an elevation of one of the corner pavilions, a plan of the “new orchard,” dated 1618, and some sketches of the stone screen in the great hall. Lastly, we learn from Cassandra Willoughby, Duchess of Chandos, who wrote an account of the house in 1702, that Sir Francis Willoughby sent for the master-workmen who built the house out of Italy, and also for most of the stone figures which adorn it.

Here, then, we have apparently a number of conflicting claims. No one, however, contests with Sir Francis Willoughby the honour of having built the house in the sense of having ordered and paid for it. Nor is its date in question. But there are three claimants to the honour of having designed it, namely, John Thorpe, Robert Smythson, and the master-workmen out of Italy. First, as to the latter. The idea has long been very prevalent that the houses of Elizabeth’s time owed their special characteristics to Italy and to Italian workmen; and so, in a way, they did, because Italy influenced more or less directly the work of the Renaissance in all other countries. But, as a matter of fact, it is extremely difficult to trace anything but a very small amount of English work to actual Italian hands. The whole tendency of recent inquiries goes to show that it was English hands which executed most of the work which has an Italian appearance. The tales of models having been sent for from Italy for English houses are probably apocryphal, because the plan of an English house differed widely from that of an Italian; and although it might be rash to assert that Cassandra the Duchess was wrong, still the master-workmen who were sent for out of Italy could have had very little to do with the designing of Wollaton. The chief credit for that performance ought to be given to John Thorpe, and it is possible to reconcile his claims with those of Robert Smythson by regarding the latter as the chief workman and clerk of the works, or surveyor. It must be remembered that although the same terms are used now as were used then, the meaning of them has changed. We find a number of men described as “architectus” or “architector,” who were what we should regard as master-masons, and that is probably what Mr. Robert Smythson was. But it must also be remembered that the relation of the master-mason to the architect was then very different from what it is to-day. The architect to-day designs everything himself; in those days he seems only to have given a general idea of what he wanted, leaving the detail to be developed by the master-mason. The latter might therefore well take credit to himself--or his sorrowing family for him--as being the “architector” to a house like Wollaton.

There is no established connection between Robert Smythson of Wollaton and John Smithson of Bolsover; but both men were occupied with building matters, and the dates would allow of Robert being the father of John. The relationship, if it existed, would account for John being employed to make drawings of Wollaton.

The actual origin of the house may properly be attributed to Thorpe. He claims nothing for himself, he only leaves certain drawings behind him (Figs. 1 and 3).

In comparing Thorpe’s plan with the actual ground-plan (Fig. 2), it will be found that the main dimensions tally almost exactly; the corner pavilions, however, are not quite so large as he shows them, and the projection of the wings beyond the entrance and garden fronts is rather larger than he indicates. The hall is built to his dimensions of 60 feet by 30 feet. As to the general similarity of the two plans, the likeness is obvious, but the difference in the thickness of the various main walls should be observed. The variations in the positions of the internal cross walls need hardly be considered, because they result, in all probability, from comparatively recent alterations. But in the main skeleton there are several noteworthy discrepancies. The corner pavilions in Thorpe’s plan do not overlap the north and south fronts, whereas they do in the building itself. The entrance porch as built is quite different from what he shows, and so is the projecting window in the centre of the south or garden front. The two central bays which he shows on the east and west fronts do not appear in the building itself; as a matter of fact the east front has six large windows between the pavilions, whereas the west has seven. Thorpe shows both these fronts treated alike.