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.

THE ABBEY OF TEWKESBURY,

Gloucestershire.

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.

FOUNDATION. --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.

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]

When the Battle of Hastings had secured a vacant throne to William the Conqueror ,[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.

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 “ Blackfriars ” 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 Chapter-house of the Abbey, of which the arcade mouldings, vaulted ceiling, pillars, buttresses, and pointed doorway, retain

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,

Earl of Pembroke. He was a great benefactor of the monastery, and dying in 1230, was buried in the middle Chancel 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 Monument of the Despenser family, hereafter noticed, is one of the finest objects in the Abbey church.

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 Patron 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 the axe 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]

[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 Choir 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 Choir . 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 George, Duke of Clarence , 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.

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 Herse , 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]

Such is the descent 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 Gateway 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 Gateways of

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.

Cloisters. --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 Cloister , 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.

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 Piscina , 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.

The Grand Entrance 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 Choir 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.

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 Western Portico 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.

Font. --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.

The Roof 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.

Cloister Bell-case. --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.

The Tombs 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.

The Chancel (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.

Le Despenser’s Chapel , 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 the Holy Trinity , 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 St. Edmund the Martyr . 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.

On the south side, at the Abbots’ Entrance 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.

A : A me disce mori, mors est sors omnibus una; M : Mortis et esca fui mortis et esca fores. I : In terram ex terra terrestris massa meabis; E : Et capiet cineres urna parata cinis. V : Vivere vis cœlo, terrenam temnite vitam: V : Vita pijs mors est; mors mihi vita pia. J : Jejunes, vigiles, ores, credasq potenti, A : Ardua fac: non est mollis ad astra via. T : Te Scriptura vocat, te sermo, ecclesia Mater. T : Teque vocat Sponsus, Spiritus atque Pater.

N.B. The Area 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.

There , 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.

The Chapter-house. --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 Alanus --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.

Stalls 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 North Transept 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.

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.

Benedictine. 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.

Tewkesbury Abbey 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 Abbot’s Lodgings , 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.

Domesday Survey. --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.

Environs. --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.”

“When Queen Margaret ,” 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 Tewkesbury . 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 Tewkesbury’s 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. Somerset , seeyng hys unfortunate chaunce, returned to the middlewarde, where, seeyng the Lorde Wenlocke 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,

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.”

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 Prince Edward , 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 Cloisters , 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!

Legend. --“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 Robert Fitz-Hamon , 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.

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.

One of 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 Castle , 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 Castle , through the bountifull munificence of Queene Elizabeth, was given and granted to Robert Dudleie , Earle of Leicester, who to repaire

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.

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 Monastery 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.

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 Simon de Montfort ,[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 Round-table as was sene, Of a _thousand knyghts_ for discipline, Of young menne, after he could devyse Of turnementes and justes to exercise. A _thousand ladyes_, excellyng in beautye, He had also there in tentes high above The justes , 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 Kenilworth 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.

The Hall , in which were held so many splendid reunions and banquets, is still magnificent in decay. Its proportions are ninety feet in length, forty-five

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.”

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 the Presence Chamber 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

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, John of Gaunt , 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.

Lancaster Buildings , 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, John of Gaunt , 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.”

The Strong Tower , 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.”

The Swan Tower 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 Flood Gate , 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.

The Kitchens , 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 Swan Tower . 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.

The Stables , 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 Gate-house 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 Leicester’s Buildings , 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.”

Leicester’s Buildings , 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

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 Gate-house 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.

The progresses 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, Robert Dudley , 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,

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.]--

Ad Majestatem Regiam.

Jupiter huc certos cernens te tendere gressus Cœlicolas Princeps actutum convocat omnes; Obsequium præstare jubet tibi 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 tibi, Regina , hæc (cum sis Dignissima) præbent; Hoc tibi 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,

was conveied up to Chamber [202] [in which stood a splendid Chimney-piece ], 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. At his death he bequeathed it to his brother

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.

Survey 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 King’s Wood , 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

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

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.)

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.

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.”

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:”--

Epitaph on the Erle of Leister.

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 Kenilworth , his absence was construed into disaffection;

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 Page .[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

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.

Classical Associations. --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 Amy Robsart , 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

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

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.

In taking leave of Kenilworth , 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 Castle 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.”

Summary. --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. The Keep , or Cæsar’s Tower (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.

Environs. --The Priory of Kenilworth--of which our notice must be very brief (p. 215)--originally occupied a considerable space, which is indicated

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 Church 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 Town 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 Bridge , consisting of two spacious arches, and commanding a fine view of the striking objects around, is highly ornamental to the place.

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 Leicester Chimney-Piece , 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 Dove and Snake ,--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.

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 Waltham Holy Cross .[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 Interior 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

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

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.”

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 one of these little Bridges 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;

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 Inner Porch , 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 Baker’s Entry , 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]

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 Romeland , 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 Dissolution . 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 Steeple , 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 Entrance Gateway , 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

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 Choir appears to have been very extensive; for the site of Harold’s Tomb , which we know was in that part of the church, perhaps near the high altar where the Holy Cross 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.

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 Principal Entrance , 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

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 Font . 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 South Side . 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

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 Buttresses 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 Coat of Arms 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.

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 Holy Cross , 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.’

Environs. --The neighbourhood of Waltham presents a few historical sites, and some interesting localities. The river Lea 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 Waltham Cross 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 Theobald . To the north may still be seen the mouldering ruins of the Nunnery of Cheshunt , 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.

CARISBROOKE CASTLE,

Isle of Wight .

When as the pliant Muse, with plain and easy flight Betwixt her silver wings is wafted to the Wight , 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.

Among 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,

William Fitz-Osborne. --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

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, Veetam Insulam 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,

Roger de Bretteville --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. Carisbrooke Castle and the honor attached now reverted to the crown, in which it continued till the next reign, when it was granted to--

Richard de Redvers , 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,

Baldwin de Redvers , 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--

William de ‘Vernon’ --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 Castle of Carisbrooke , 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

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.

Baldwin , 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,

Isabella de Fortibus , 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-- Domina Insulæ --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 Carisbrooke Castle was highly beneficial to the island; and to her charter of franchise the beautiful town of Newport owes its

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--

Piers Gavestone. --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

William Montacute , 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

Edward, Earl of Rutland , 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 Carisbrooke 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.,

Humphrey “the Good,” 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

Henry Beauchamp , 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

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 Wicket 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

conflict with the waves. The castle at this time was under the command of Sir George Carey, “captain” or “governor” of the island,--whose Residence , 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

The Castle --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 E. R. (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 Cemetery . 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

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

King Charles 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

The Keep , 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

Mountjoy’s Tower , 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

The Garrison Well , 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

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.

The Governor’s House (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.

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

for securing the island. The Newport militia accordingly, with four hundred naval auxiliaries, were marched up to the walls of the castle, near Elizabeth’s Tower , 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 Charles’s 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 Apartments of the castle--still shown as King Charles’s Rooms --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,

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

A window of his apartment; a swift horse with a guide was to wait for

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.

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.

“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 Netley appears itself to be only a corruption of the more ancient one of Letley , Lettely , or Latelie , 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 Edwardestowe . 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 De Laeto Loco , 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

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 Seals 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.

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 Church 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 West Window , as well as the great eastern window, appears to have been, when perfect and filled with stained glass, extremely handsome and

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 South Transept 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

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 Fountain Court ; 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 Confessional 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

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 Sacristy 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

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 Chapter-House 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 Parlour , 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 Refectory , 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.”

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 Dormitories , 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 Buttery and Kitchen , 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,

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 Cellars 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 Cloisters 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 Abbot’s House . 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.

The South Front 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

in the neighbourhood of Netley were peculiarly advantageous in this point of view, and the Buttery and Kitchen 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

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 Date , and the other Dabitur-vobis : 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 Confessional , and there they received a ready Absolution .

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.

“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.”

Historical Associations. --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 poetry 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 Bevis of Hampton . 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 Bevis’s Mount . Some antiquaries, probably with little reason, have supposed it to be the remains of an ancient Danish fort. There is another Bevis’s Mound 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 neighbourhood 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.

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 Weston Beach , 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.

Netley Castle , or Fort , 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.

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.

APPENDIX.

ARUNDEL CASTLE. -- King Alfred’s Will. --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.

Harold, Earl of Sussex , 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.

Roger Montgomery , 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 Castrum 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.

Hugh Montgomery , 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.

Mabel , 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 Adeliza , 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 Fitzalan Family , 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 Arundel .

De Albini , 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 France , 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 Tournament to be proclaimed throughout her dominions, promising to reward those who should

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 Paris , amongst others came this our William de Albini , bravely accoutred; and in the tournament excelled all others, overcoming many, and wounding one mortally with his lance, which being observed by the Queen , 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 England , 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 Queen 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.

Robert de Belesmo , 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 Arundel 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 Arundel 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 Robertum 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 Arundel .”--Henric. Huntingd. lib. vi. p. 216.

King Stephen , 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 Arundel , vel perfida credens consilia, vel quia castrum videbat inexpugnabile, ire permisit ad Bristowe.”--Hoved. Steph. Rex. fol. 278.

The Empress Maud , 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.”

Syr Bevis , 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 Bevis 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 Syr Bevis 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.”

Knighthood , 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 New Temple , 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 Swans , 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 Swans , 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.

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.

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.

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!’”

* * * * *

* * * * *

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 Gulielmus Osberni filius , 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 Gulielmus 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 Guillelmi 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.

It 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 Wight , 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.

The 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 Wight . 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 priest 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.

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 Abbas 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 Robertum filium Haimonis 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 Rex 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, Roberto filio Hamonis 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 Robertus 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 Infantem 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 Willielmum Rufum . 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 Chimney-piece , 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 Nigrum Tertum 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.