Part 7

The parish of St. Osyth was anciently part of the royal demesnes. Canute granted it to Godwin, Earl of Kent, who gave it to Christ’s Church, Canterbury, with permission of Edward the Confessor. Prior to the Conquest it must have passed into other hands, for we find at the time of the Survey it belonged to the bishop of London. Richard de Belmeis or de Beaumes, consecrated Bishop of London in 1108, obtained the manor and church of Cice, in order to build and endow a monastery there for canons of the order of St. Augustine, which was done about 1118; and the tithes being appropriated to the monks, they served the cure by one of their own canons. At the Dissolution, the amount of all the revenues was found to be, according to Speed, £758. 5_s._ 8_d._ Dugdale says it was £677. 7_s._ 2_d._ The abbot, prior, and eighteen canons, subscribed to the King’s supremacy--which shows the number then maintained. Alaric de Vere, the first Earl of Oxford, had a son a canon here, who wrote the Life of St. Osyth, about 1160. Soon after the suppression of religious houses, Henry VIII. granted it to Thomas Lord Cromwell. On his disgrace and attainder, the property reverted to the Crown.

Edward VI., for the sum of £3974. 9_s._ 4½_d._, disposed of it to Thomas, Lord Darcy of Chich, Knight of the Garter and Chamberlain of his household, by whom it was converted into a residence. This nobleman was son of Roger Darcy, sheriff of Essex and Herts in 1506, and squire of the body to Henry VII. He married Elizabeth, daughter of John de Vere, Earl of Oxford. John, second Lord Darcy, was united to Frances, daughter of Richard, Lord Rich, by whom he had a son, Thomas. He was united to a daughter of Sir Thomas Kytson, of Hengrave Hall, Suffolk; created in 1621 Viscount Colchester for life, with remainder to his son-in-law, Sir Thomas Savage; five years afterwards he was advanced to an earldom, by the title of Earl Rivers, which became extinct in 1728. This Sir T. Savage, upon whom the titles were entailed, dying before his predecessor, Elizabeth, the Earl’s eldest daughter, took the title of Countess Rivers. She it was who suffered the loss of so much property during the civil wars. In 1694, the Hon. Richard Savage came into possession of the titles and estates; he was Lieutenant-General of Horse, Lord-Lieutenant and Vice-Admiral of the County; but having no legitimate male issue surviving, he gave St. Osyth to a natural daughter, the wife of Frederick de Nassau, Earl of Rochford, a branch of the regal line of the House of Orange, whose father came over into England with William III., at the Revolution. The Earl died in 1738, leaving two sons, the eldest of whom, William Henry, was secretary of state in the year 1772. The title became extinct in 1830, and the possessions devolved upon their present owner, Frederick Nassau, Esq., a collateral branch of the same family, by whom the Mansion is occupied.

Although the ruins of the ancient monastery are scattered in rich profusion in all directions around the present dwelling-house, it is somewhat difficult to determine

its exact site; arches, towers, and picturesque remains, meet the visitor at every point, but so situated as almost to defy an attempt to fix the original plan. The entrance to the residence is through a noble gateway, flanked, by projecting towers of unequal proportions, with posterns; the whole being divided into numerous apartments, forming a building of considerable size and extent. The ceiling is beautifully groined, and in excellent preservation. As the structure occupies rather high ground, the Towers are distinctly visible to vessels skirting the eastern coast, from which it is distant about three miles. The gateway opens upon a spacious quadrangle, in the centre of which stands a well-executed figure of Time supporting a sun-dial. Our principal drawing exhibits parts of the northern and eastern sides of the square; the other sides consist principally of domestic offices, the larger portions of which are formed from the old buildings. Those in which the family now reside are of comparatively modern date, and look out upon an extensive park, finely wooded and well stocked with deer. In the grounds, and about sixty yards from the house, is a square brick pillar, surmounted by an urn; on one side of the pillar is a tablet with the following inscription, to mark the boundary of the old priory: it was erected at the time of the Commonwealth--“Vetus hæc Quam cernis maceries conservata est Ad Augustiniani cœnobii limites designandos Tu vero inter loci huius amœnitates Tuorum temporum felicitati Gratuleris ablegata jam ista superstitione quæ Domicilium tam superbum segnitiæ consecravit et socordiæ A.D. CIƆIƆCCLX.”

At right angles, with the gateway extending outwardly, is a long battlemented wall, with a fine Norman archway; near the farther extremity, are several mullioned windows, now blocked up, and a doorway approached by deep steps. It is generally supposed that the court-house stood here; for on the steps the manorial court is still opened by the lord of the manor, or his representative. In the grounds, beneath a tower of considerable elevation, may be seen the ancient chapel of the monastery, with its adjoining cells; but the place

“Where monks their orisons and vespers sung,”

is now literally “a cage for unclean birds,” and a receptacle for garden-tools and decayed fruits and vegetables: it is still in good preservation, though damp and rottenness have discoloured the well-proportioned pillars and groined arches of the

ceiling. Without admitting or denying the truth of the inscription we have quoted concerning the holy men of other days, it is certain, that to them we are indebted for the noblest examples of ecclesiastical architecture of which the world can boast; and the ruins of St. Osyth’s Priory exhibit no mean specimen of their skill and industry.

The interior of the present mansion presents nothing that demands particular notice, except one room called the “King’s Room,” fitted with the furniture of the chamber in which George II. died (the Earl of Rochford was groom of the stole at that period), consisting of the satin mattress, crimson bed hangings, &c. &c.

The Church is a very ancient structure, built partly of brick, and partly of flint and stone, situated nearly opposite the Priory. It has recently undergone a thorough internal repair; new pews have been erected, and a neat Gothic organ has been placed in a newly constructed gallery. The roofs, which are lofty, are supported by massive oaken beams, resting upon arches that spring from hexagon columns fluted on four of their sides--the rafters in the northern aisle are boldly and richly carved in various devices. While the repairs were in progress, the Font, which had hitherto presented a plain surface, was accidentally found to be finely ornamented; and the mortar with which the interstices were filled being removed, it now presents the appearance exhibited in our cut--the initial letter. The chancel is separated from the nave by a low screen, behind which are the pews allotted to the Priory. The church contains several monuments--chiefly raised in honour of the Darcys.

St. Osyth, standing as it does, in an isolated spot, and almost apart from the business of active life, is scarcely known even to the Tourist. It is, however, full of deep interest, and, we feel assured, might throw considerable light upon the architecture of very remote periods; at all events, it would afford enjoyment and information amply to repay a lengthened visit of the antiquary.

BERKELEY CASTLE,

GLOUCESTERSHIRE.

Various additions were made to Berkeley Castle by subsequent lords. Thomas, the eighth lord, in 1342, rebuilt the high tower on the north side of the Keep (then in a state of decay), at a cost of 108_l._ 3_s._ 1½_d._; it was called “Thorpe’s Tower,” from the tenure of one Thorpe, who held his lands at Wanswell by the guard of it. “This lord also, at subsequent periods, built that portion beyond the keep on the north-east side, and gave to the castle its present shape and circumference.”

The records of the castle exhibit many singular and striking evidences of the peculiar customs and manners of the several ages through which it has passed. In 1250 the lord of Berkeley feasted with fish during Lent the convent and abbey of Gloucester;[27] in 1273 marl was first used as manure on the lands of Berkeley, which then let for sixpence per acre. Thomas, the sixteenth earl, was much given to hunting;[28] in 1550 he had a princely residence in Shoe Lane (then a fashionable quarter), and used to hunt daily in Gray’s Inn Fields and about Islington. In 1572, on the occasion of Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Berkeley, “27 stagges were slaine in one day,” much to the displeasure of the earl, who “sodainely and passionately” desparked the ground. The visit was supposed to have been contrived by the Earl of Leicester, in order to provoke Lord Berkeley, and thus “draw upon him the royal disfavour.”

The castle was the last place which held out against Cromwell; it was surrendered on the 26th September, 1645, the soldiers marching out without arms, the officers with arms.[29]

Bounded on the north by the churchyard and on the south by a bowling-green, bordered

with a yew-hedge clipped into fantastic forms and arcades by the gardener’s art, a small embattled gate-lodge affords access to the outer court of Berkeley Castle. This court, having on its south side the beautiful park scenery, and in front of the spectator the fine and massive walls of the Keep, with the Thorpe Tower bearing on its summit the Berkeley banner, forms a picture of true baronial grandeur. The inner gateway still retains the groove of its portcullis, and is flanked on either side by cannon taken from St. Jean d’Acre during its siege by the Hon. Captain Berkeley, when commanding the Thunderer. Over the archway is a state-room, from which a narrow winding passage, cut in the thickness of the wall, affords a communication with the keep.

Emerging from the gateway, the visitor enters a quadrangle formed by the buildings erected by the eighth Lord Berkeley, the keep, and the tower said to have been the scene of the unfortunate Edward II.’s murder. Crossing the quadrangle, the hall is entered by an open porch having a doorway of singular form. The hall has lost many of its ancient features, but is still a very fine apartment, sixty-one feet in length, thirty-two feet six inches in breadth, and of the same height. At the entrance end is the minstrels’ gallery, with doorways under leading to the steward’s room and buttery-hatch, and at the opposite extremity is the dais, raised two steps from the floor. Large and deeply recessed windows on the sides give light to the apartment, and from the upper end the staircase is entered, which affords access to the principal apartments. In the chapel is an eagle lettern, supporting a Bible of the date of 1640; there is also a cast of the face of Charles I., and a fragment of Roman sculpture. The drawing-room, dining-room, breakfast-room, music-room, and the several other chambers, are all well “fitted up,” and contain some family portraits and pictures of a good but not superlative class of art. Many articles of furniture, of the time of Elizabeth and James, are interspersed throughout the rooms, among which may be named a handsome bed in the little state-room, and another in the room said to have been occupied by Queen Elizabeth. There is also a room called Admiral Drake’s room, containing a bedstead, chairs, and wash-hand-stand of ebony, all of which were used by him during his voyage round the world.

The objects of more peculiar interest, however, in this noble building are the apartments connected with Edward II.’s imprisonment and tragical fate; viz. the Dungeon-Room, and the chamber adopted by general tradition as the scene of his murder. A passage by the side of the former receives light from the window which opens into the court, and this passage also affords communication with a small room which may have been a guard-chamber; but the Dungeon-Room is itself without light, and a trap-door in the floor discloses when opened a darksome, dry well, sunk down some nine or ten yards. It has been asserted that the

smell from dead carcases thrown into this well was one of the sources of annoyance to which the monarch was subjected, and this would seem to identify the room as his place of abode; but Hollinshed’s statement “that his crie was heard by many in the town of Berkelei,” is held as more applicable to the room adjoining the keep, which we now describe.[30]

To the left on entering the inner quadrangle, and attached to the Keep, is a square tower of two stories, and on a platform of four or five steps stands an early English arch, surmounted by a still earlier Norman label-moulding, attesting the antiquity of this tower. A flight of steps from thence gives access to the level of the base court of the keep. At the side of these steps a narrow gangway or gallery, protected by a rude and antique timber-shed roof, leads to a room of irregular form and small dimensions extending

over the staircase, lighted by two deeply recessed windows opening to the outer court, and secured by a strong oak door communicating with the before-named gallery.

An old chair, an old carved four-post bedstead, and in a most suspiciously recessed angular nook, an old black-looking pallet-bed, form the furniture of this room, all, though tattered and time-worn, bearing evidence of some former splendour in decoration. It does not require much stretch of imagination for the adoption of this chamber as the scene of

“Murder most foul and most unnatural!”

And a bust of the wretched king standing in one of the window recesses, with its face veiled in shadow, seems mutely but powerfully to appeal to

those feelings of pity which cannot fail to be excited by the view of this dreary abode of royalty.

Emerging into the open court, a highly enriched Norman archway is found, which forms the entrance into the courtyard of the keep, where, at some ten or twelve yards above the base-court, a number of wild ducks are quietly domiciled in a small pond formed in its centre, and where they have remained for some years contrary to their nature, apparently without a wish for change. From thence the ramparts are ascended, and a fine view is obtained of the surrounding country.

The Church is a fine early structure adjoining the castle, and attached to its south side is the mortuary chapel of the Berkeley family--a richly groined edifice, divided

into two compartments by a handsome stone screen, the inner or eastern apartment containing several monuments of the family. The altar end is blocked up by a fine Elizabethan tomb of Sir Henry Berkeley, who died in 1613; his first wife’s effigies are placed by his side. Under an arch, opening into the south side of the chancel, is a highly enriched and decorated altar-tomb, on which lie the effigies of another Earl of Berkeley and his son. It is a beautiful specimen of the period, divided into fourteen niches, having floriated canopies, under which are figures on pedestals--the Virgin and Child, St. Christopher with our Saviour, St. George and the dragon, and St. Peter, are among the number.

The groining of the chapel is curious, as containing in its several bosses and panels a connected set of emblems referring to the awful mystery of the Holy Trinity, with a most unaccountable interpolation of the monkish satires of the fox preaching to geese, a monkey holding a bottle, &c.

The churchyard contains a monument to the last of those privileged characters, the “fool” or jester of the nobility. He was in the employ of the Earl of Suffolk, and appears to have been lent to Lord Berkeley. He was buried 18th June, 1728. At the end of the monument are the arms of the earl, and on one side this inscription,--

“My lord that’s gone, himself made much of him!”

On the opposite side are these lines written by Dean Swift, who was chaplain to Charles Earl of Berkeley:--

“Here lies the Earl of Suffolk’s fool, Men call him Dicky Pearce; His folly served to make men laugh, When wit and mirth were scarce. Poor Dick, alas! is dead and gone-- What signifies to cry? Dickies enough are left behind To laugh at by and by.”

The village bears the half-maritime character usual in places near the sea, or an arm of

the sea, and has some old buildings about it, of which the annexed sketch is a specimen. It may, however, be justly celebrated as the birthplace of Dr. Jenner, by whom cowpock inocculation was first introduced. He was buried at Berkeley, and will ever be remembered with gratitude as the successful combatant of that fearful disease, whose ravages were so finely alluded to by Admiral Berkeley, when, advocating his claims in the House of Commons, he said, that “not a _second_ is struck by the hand of Time but a victim is sacrificed at the altar of that most horrible of all disorders--the small-pox.”

Wandering through the ancient and venerable Halls, consecrated by time, the mind associates with every solemn nook some memorable passage of its eventful history. Ages have wrought comparatively little change in its external and internal aspect. There are no indications of ruin, and few even of neglect, in this famous baronial castle. The fancy is scarcely taxed to behold again, seated on the dais, its powerful lords--mirrors of chivalry: we seem almost to hear the minstrels recite the praises of descendants of the royal Dane, who fought and conquered by the side of the Conqueror; we behold his successors, in one unbroken line for centuries, surrounded by their vassals, holding regal sway; we tread the very steps which a deposed and death-doomed monarch trod in grievous captivity; and although we shudder at entering the dark chamber in which he was so foully murdered, we feel pity for, rather than anger towards, that “Lord of Berkeley” who was certainly guiltless of the deed, and whose weapon would have forced aside the hands of remorseless butchers. Berkeley Castle is a fine study for the antiquary; a full page for the historian: it illustrates with singular force the customs of our ancestors; exhibits their state of perpetual “watch and ward;” the frowning Keep speaks audibly; and every winding staircase and chamber, small or large, is fertile of story.

The neighbourhood, too, retains much of its primitive character. One may imagine the peasants and farmers, whose quaint homesteads environ the strong castle--the dependants and retainers of four centuries ago.

So few of these “old places” have been preserved to our time, “unimproved” by modern “taste,” that a visit to Berkeley is like a refreshing draught of pure water in an arid plain, to those who mourn over removals of the ancient landmarks of their ancestors.