Part 3

[13] _Tribune_, Jan. 11, 1908.

From the body of evidence on this point we must conclude that the Swan drawing does not correctly show the back of the stage; or, as I would suggest, the rear wall as there represented is possibly merely a temporary stage property with its imitation of heavy barred doors, required for the one play, concealing in this exceptional case the more usual inner stage.

This point considered, the remaining arrangements are more or less a matter of detail. It would be quite unnecessary to go into the reasons for the canted side walls, the railing to stage, the planning of tiring-rooms, all of which must be to a great extent a matter of opinion. The existence of one other feature alone is incontestable—it is the turret from which the trumpeter gave the signal to the people without that the play was about to commence. It appears clearly in the “Swan” sketch, and also on nearly every external indication of the theatres in the early maps, where it rises from the encircling roof, being made the more conspicuous by the flag which bore the symbol of the theatre’s name. In some drawings there appear to be three turrets, but two of these are probably the terminal finish to the staircases. As it rose above the stage of Shakespeare and the galleried courtyard with its Elizabethan audience, this timber turret crowned with picturesqueness a scene only second in dramatic interest to the ancient hillside theatre of Athens, which nursed the Hellenic drama—a drama unfolded in like manner beneath the open sky and the inspiring light of the sun.

—W. H. G.

THE TOWER OF LONDON AND ITS DEVELOPMENT

III.

THE TOWER OF LONDON AND ITS DEVELOPMENT.

Most of the great capitals of modern Europe are cities of comparatively recent growth and importance. Berlin, Madrid, The Hague, and St. Petersburg fill little or no space in the mediæval history of their respective states, while Vienna and Brussels have been promoted from a humbler position. Rome, London, Paris, and Lisbon may, however, claim that exalted status which accrues only to the city that has been for centuries the centre of the national life. Such a position inevitably leaves its mark on the civic architecture, which, however, has been too often expunged and obliterated by the varying fashions and fortunes of more modern times. Thus it happens that London devastated by the great fire, Lisbon by the earthquake, and Paris, to a less extent, by the revolutionary changes of recent times, retain comparatively few of the concrete monuments of their great past, and even Rome herself is a memorial rather of the Renaissance than of the Middle Age. It is not surprising, then, that in the great palatine fortress of the Tower, London possesses a building, standing as it does largely intact, which is almost without a parallel amongst the European capitals. The mediæval military architecture of England generally can hardly be said to approach, far less to rival, that of the Continent, for the more settled condition and greater cohesion of the English state rendered these huge defensive works unnecessary. Scores of English castles have no recorded siege, and comparatively few of the English towns, save those on the Scotch and Welsh borders and on the coast towards France, were defended by walls. Nevertheless the fortress projected by the Conqueror and built by his successor is perhaps the most important example of military architecture which the country affords, and an attempt to explain its origin and growth will not be without interest.

The Norman Conquest found London defended on the landward side by its Roman walls, repaired in Saxon times, and by the remains of the wall, also of Roman date, along the river front. These walls were protected at intervals by semi-circular bastions more or less regularly spaced, the positions of many of which are shown on Ogilby and Morgan’s survey of the city taken in 1677. The south-eastern angle of the area thus enclosed was the site chosen by the early Norman kings for their new fortress, which was to overawe and keep in check the London citizens. It has long been a matter for some surprise that, with the exception of the White Tower or Keep and the basement of the Wakefield Tower, no trace of Norman work exists in any other part of the fortress, all the remaining towers and walls being of more recent date. The explanation of the circumstance which I here offer appears to me, from its very simplicity, to contain all the elements of probability.

At the date of the building of the White Tower the Roman wall at this angle was probably standing intact, and the Norman builders determined to incorporate a portion of it in the defences of the castle. The course of the Roman wall on the east side of the city is well known, but the position of the southern or river front has been the subject of much conjecture. The existing evidence is, however, in my opinion, sufficient to establish this, at any rate with regard to the south-east angle. The mediæval building known as the Wardrobe Tower, of which a portion still remains standing, has been proved to stand on the base of a Roman bastion. The line of the still existing city wall between Aldgate and the Tower Ditch when produced southwards exactly strikes this point, and a portion of its base adjoining the tower has been uncovered. The lines of this fragment, however, prove that from here the wall turned slightly and headed in a direct line for the centre of the modern Lanthorn Tower, which stands partly on the foundations of its predecessor destroyed in the eighteenth century. From this there seems little doubt that the Lanthorn, like the Wardrobe Tower, was built on the base of a Roman bastion. Now, the bastions to the north and south of Aldgate shown on Ogilby’s map of London are spaced about 200 ft. apart, which is approximately the distance between the Wardrobe and Lanthorn Towers. The wall must of necessity have turned at this point, and the same dimension set off on a line running parallel to the river gives the positions in succession of the Wakefield, the Bell, and the northern bastion of the Middle Tower. It seems, then, almost more than probable that we have here the river line of the Roman wall and the position of the first four bastions on its southern face. It may be further noted that all four towers are in perfect alignment, and that each of them is or was of circular form. The Norman builders probably found some of these towers still standing with the wall between them, and constructed their Keep as near as possible to the eastern line, without disturbing it, and leaving a considerable space on the south side between it and the southern wall. By this proceeding they obtained a bailey ready made enclosed on the north by the Keep and on the east and south by the Roman wall and the bastions which later became the Wardrobe, Lanthorn, and Wakefield Towers. All that was needed to complete the defences was a protection on the western side, and this was temporarily provided by a wooden stockade, the remains of which were brought to light some years ago. Subsequently a great gatehouse, called “Coldharbour,” and a strong curtain were erected on its site. These buildings formed the whole extent of the early castle, which was probably isolated by the destruction of a portion of the city wall immediately outside its limits. There is no evidence that its defences included either a fosse or mound, and thus two of the most characteristic features of Norman castle-building were absent.

It may seem improbable that buildings still standing in the twentieth century should have retained the exact positions, through successive rebuildings, of their Roman predecessors; but the more one studies the features of London topography the more one is struck by the extraordinary persistence of ancient building lines. To mention two instances only: the modern warehouse on the site of the old Barbers’ Hall in Monkwell Street reproduces exactly the lines of the Roman bastion which formed its western termination, and the Apothecaries’ Hall in Blackfriars represents exactly, in position and dimensions, the hall of the guest-house where the Emperor Charles V. lodged during his visit to London in 1522.

The great Keep of the Tower of London, in spite of the unfortunate repairs and alterations of Sir Christopher Wren, must always remain amongst the finest examples of its class in the country. If it does not cover so much ground as Colchester, and is less lofty than Rochester, it possesses, in the Chapel of St. John, a feature which is unapproached by any other Norman keep in the country; and here, fortunately, the structure has been left largely in its original state. The chapel at Colchester, which occupies the same relative position, is also apsidal, but at the Tower alone is found the encircling ambulatory and the aisled nave. In the stages beneath the chapel are two crypts, the lower a gloomy vault, with massive walls and barrel roof, which carries the mind back irresistibly to the early days of Norman rule. The many writers on the Tower have found themselves unable to identify the original entrance to the Keep, but once the early arrangement of the castle is understood its position becomes quite obvious. In the western bay on the south side, at the first-floor level, is a large arched opening with a small niche cut in the thickness of the wall on either side; this, now fitted with a modern window, is the original door. It was approached by an external and probably roofed staircase from the bailey, all trace of which is now lost. A similar arrangement is found in most of the existing keep-towers of this period, the examples at Newcastle and Rising (Norfolk) being perhaps the best preserved.

The first great enlargement of the Tower probably took place in the latter half of the twelfth century, when the great ditch was begun, and the western half of the inner circle of fortifications projected, which eventually transformed the castle from the early keep-and-bailey type to the concentric form which it afterwards assumed. Here again the position of the Roman city wall appears to have played a part, for this enlargement consisted of that part only of the later fortress which was within its limits, bounded outwardly by the Bell, Devereux, and Bowyer Towers. The great ditch was begun by Longchamp, Bishop of Ely and regent of the kingdom during the absence of Richard I.; but the buildings—the curtain with its towers—appear to be of slightly later date. It is evident from the remarks of Fitzstephen (_temp._ Henry II.) that at this date the southern wall of the city was in great part undermined and castdown by the action of the tides, and consequently the Bell Tower, though on its line, presents no more ancient features above ground than the time of John. It is, however, an exceedingly massive work, being built solid for a considerable height, and may well incorporate in its base the remains of a Roman bastion.

The line of the inner circle of defence was completed under Henry III., when the eastern half, without the ancient city wall, was added, bounded by the Martin, Salt, and the intermediate towers. Most of the existing towers were rebuilt under this king, with the exception of those already noted, but many have been marred by nineteenth-century restoration, and the Flint, Brick, and Constable’s Towers have been almost entirely rebuilt. It may be noted (if our theory be correct) that where the position of these towers was not determined by the pre-existence of the Roman works they are spaced much closer together. The first of the later towers on the east, the Salt, is comparatively close to the Lanthorn, and the straight line of the southern Roman wall is at once abandoned when nothing in the shape of old foundations could assist the thirteenth-century builder.

King Henry III. was also responsible for the second and outer line of fortifications, and for the construction of the Tower Wharf. The former is on the east, north, and west sides, little more than a revetment to the great ditch. It is pierced, however, with loops, and two sally-ports are observable on the north front. On the river front this line also was defended by towers, which include the great water-gate called St. Thomas’s Tower.

There is little doubt that a great hall of timber existed in the inner bailey in Norman times, but it was not until the thirteenth century that the hall of stone was erected against its southern curtain. This building has now entirely disappeared, and even in Elizabethan times it was in a ruinous state. It abutted on the west against the Wakefield Tower, and an idea of its appearance is given in the well-known fifteenth-century view of the Tower. The upper stage of the Wakefield Tower was rebuilt with it, and communicated by a short passage with the dais end, forming a feature corresponding in some respects to the oriel of purely domestic work. The deep embrasure of the eastern window forms a small oratory—one of the many that the Tower formerly contained.

One of the most remarkable features of the fortress is the elaborate system of defences guarding the entrance from the outside world. To reach the Keep from Tower Hill it was necessary to pass through no fewer than six gatehouses—the Bulwark and Lion Gates, the Middle and Byward Towers, the Bloody Tower, and Coldharbour. The other entrances included two water-gates, and a small postern and bridge on the eastern side, protected by the Irongate and Develin Towers.

To Henry VIII. must be assigned the final important changes to the building—the construction of the two great bastions on the north face, now called Legge’s and Brass Mount. They appear in a view of Edward VI.’s coronation procession, and can hardly be earlier than his father’s time. The Lions’ Tower, now vanished, was a work of similar character, so called from the small zoological collection kept there by the later kings.

Turning now, more particularly, to the architectural part of our subject, it will be found that the towers on the inner and outer circuit, which have not been rebuilt, present an infinite variety of form and construction, and each of them retains some feature of interest. The Bell Tower, besides its early vaulting, possesses a charming early eighteenth-century bell-cote; the fifth gatehouse, called the Bloody Tower, has remains of a richly-ribbed vault of the fifteenth century and a massive portcullis of timber still in working order. The great water-gate, called St. Thomas’s Tower or the Traitor’s Gate, has its little hexagonal vaulted oratory, while the water-gate of the Palace, called, for some reason unknown, the Cradle Tower, is, where unrestored, an excellent example of fourteenth-century work with a graceful vault springing from embattled corbels. The Salt Tower contains an original thirteenth-century fireplace with a massive stone hood and a curious joggled arch; the Well Tower, though small, contains an early vault; and the Martin Tower, with its eighteenth-century patchwork, has an appearance equally picturesque and venerable. The Devereux Tower adjoins a large Tudor casemate of brick, and the Beauchamp is well known for the tragic list of noble names cut upon its walls of those whom ambition or misfortune led to their final resting place in the little chapel near by.

The two outer gatehouses, called respectively the Middle and Byward Towers, are worthy of careful study. Both are of similar form—an entrance flanked by two circular bastions, the ground floors of which have groined and ribbed vaults of the fourteenth century. In addition to this the Byward Tower contains a fine early fireplace with a stone hood not unlike that in the Salt Tower, but rather more ornate. The inner face of this tower was transformed in Tudor times into a dwelling-house, and its half-timber walls and mullioned windows are still intact. Another example of Tudor domestic work is to be found in “The King’s House,” the lodging of the Lieutenant of the Tower. A succession of picturesque gables with enriched bargeboards looks on to the green, made pleasant in summer by a number of trees—a scene of peace and retirement which needs the ominous presence of the two Tower ravens to recall the fact that this was the place of private execution.

Not the least interesting building in the Tower is the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula. Quite apart from the overwhelming associations of the place that enshrines the bones of queens and would-be kings, the victims of Tudor despotism or Stuart spite, there is sufficient in the building to demand attention on its architectural merit alone. One monument, that of the Blounts, father and son, is of quite unusual excellence. The mouldings and enrichments, and especially the carved masks which ornament the frieze, are of almost Italian delicacy and charm, while the pomp of heraldry in the many quartered shields adds considerably to the richness of the design. The armed alabaster effigy of Sir Richard Cholmeley, Lieutenant of the Tower under Henry VIII., stands near by, and is an excellent example of the period.

Two buildings of considerable merit were erected within the precincts during the second half of the seventeenth century. The earliest in date is the horse-armoury built by Sir Christopher Wren, and reputed to be his first work in London. It still stands against the inner eastern wall between the Salt and Broad-Arrow Towers, and while marked by a suitable simplicity of design its proportions with the roof brought out over a broad projecting cornice are admirable.

The Great Armoury, begun under James II., and completed in the time of his successor, occupied the site of the modern barracks. It was a large building with projecting wings, and an enriched façade with a sculptured pediment in the centre. It was unfortunately destroyed by fire in 1841, and nothing was saved with the exception of the carved pediment adorned with the arms of William III., now built into a wall on the eastern side of the Tower.

The modern history of the Tower is a long record of destruction and misguided restoration, and its position has sunk to the level of a show. To the average Londoner it ranks with the Zoo and the waxworks, and he regards a visit to the Tower as one of those childish things which he has long put away.

—A. W. C.

THE ROYAL PALACE OF ELTHAM

IV.

THE ROYAL PALACE OF ELTHAM.

If Eltham Palace were not overshadowed by the close proximity of London it would undoubtedly receive a greater share of public attention, and the lordly buildings that were for long the favourite resort of our kings would, if situated in a more distant county, attract as many visitors as numerous less interesting buildings receive as a matter of course year by year. Eltham, once a fair village of Kent, is now becoming rapidly swallowed up in the ever-widening geographical expression “the suburbs of London,” and in that unsympathetic atmosphere it is almost as completely buried as is Pompeii beneath the dust and lava of a volcano, or Dunwich beneath the waters of the North Sea. Yet the remains of the royal buildings are not only exceedingly beautiful, but are of extraordinary interest as representing a palace which must have been one of the largest and most elaborate of the mediæval period. Its moat enclosed a building averaging 340 ft. by 300 ft. in area, and the total length of the courts of the palace probably approached 1,000 ft., with a width of from four to five hundred. This rivals Hampton Court, which is 720 ft. by 400 ft., and is not insignificant even when compared with the great scheme of Inigo Jones for Whitehall, which was to have measured 1,200 ft. by 900 ft.

A most remarkable plan of the whole of the apartments within the circumference of the moat has just come under my notice, preserved among the many treasures in the Hatfield papers, and with Lord Salisbury’s kind permission I have used it in preparing the plan on pages 54–55. The original drawing is in outline, and is endorsed “Eltham House,” the second word being in Lord Burghley’s handwriting. In the Public Record Office (State Papers Domestic, Elizabeth, Vol. 234, No. 78) is a plan of the outer courtyard of offices, _beyond_ the moat, of which Hasted publishes a reproduction and Mr. Gregory[14] includes a copy, apparently from an engraving, in his book. This plan, which has puzzled many earlier writers, including Pugin (who in spite of the explicit wording seems to have supposed it to be of the main court and was surprised at the absence of the hall), is signed by John Thorpe, and has the date 1590, in pencil, on the back. The plan at Hatfield is unsigned, but is to the same scale (20 ft. to the inch), and may well have been also the work of Thorpe, although it is executed with much greater care than the plan of the offices in the State Papers. Together the two plans give us the whole extent of the palace and the buildings within its precincts. (See pp. 54 and 55.)

[14] _The Story of Royal Eltham_, by R. R. C. Gregory.

The site at Eltham has never been properly investigated, and the field is open for a very considerable amount of work in verifying or correcting these plans and identifying the positions of the buildings shown thereon. In presenting, therefore, the general arrangement as outlined on the existing manuscripts I intend to do no more than introduce the subject and place one or two considerations at the disposal of those who may complete the work. By the courtesy of Mr. R. R. C. Gregory and Mr. F. W. Nunn I am permitted to reproduce some interesting photographs which were specially taken for the former’s book on Eltham, showing a few of the remains as they stand at the present day.