Part 15
Under the east end of the castle is a large vault, upwards of 60 feet in length, the massive walls of which are formed of blocks of chalk, strengthened with ribs of stone, and are of about 7 feet in thickness. This vault was used, of course, as a place of safety for prisoners, and a curious instance of escape from it is recorded. It seems that in the year 1404 one John Mot was here confined on a charge of robbery, but contrived to make his escape. Before he could get clear away, his flight was discovered, and he was followed. Finding himself closely pursued, he suddenly turned to the College of the Holy Trinity, and seizing the ring attached to the gate just as his captors were about to lay hands on him, claimed the right of sanctuary. He was, however, forcibly seized, and carried back to prison. Knowledge of the affair reaching the ears of the priests, two of the parties who assisted the constable in making the seizure of Mot were summoned before the bishop, found guilty, and “ordered to make a pilgrimage on foot to the shrine of St. Richard at Chichester, to present an offering there according to their ability, to be cudgelled (_fustigati_) five times through the church of Arundel, and five times to recite the paternoster, ave, and creed, upon their knees before the crucifix of the high altar.” Before the sentence, however, could be carried into execution, the prisoner was wisely restored to the church, the cudgelling was remitted, and offerings of burning tapers were substituted.
A word may be said about the fine old horned owls that at one time gave renown to the Keep—owls of a peculiar breed, and about whom many curious anecdotes have been related. At present, however, they greet the visitors under glass, in cases; but it is understood that some of their progeny are preparing to take the places in life of the old denizens of the time-honoured ruin.
It will be seen that all the inhabited portions of Arundel Castle are of comparatively recent date; they are fitted up with much judgment and taste, but by no means gorgeously. In one of the lesser chambers are hung some modern drawings of great merit and value, by Prout, Hunt, Copley Fielding, David Cox, and other artists of the best days of the British school.[30]
The KEEP is the great attraction of the castle and domain of Arundel. Though now but a picturesque ruin, it has been prominent in all the internal contests of the kingdom, from the days of Alfred the Great to the reign of the third William. To this relic of a remote age the public are freely admitted; and a courteous custodier is always at hand to detail its history, and conduct through its winding and tortuous paths from base to summit.
Dating from a time certainly anterior to the Conquest, before the application of “villainous saltpetre,” it must have been impregnable—commanding the adjacent country on all sides, and rendering the Arun a mere tributary to the will of its lords; it had a large share in controlling the destinies of the kingdom during the several civil wars to which it had been subjected. It remains one of the most picturesque of the ruins that in England recall the memories of battles lost and won, of glories continually claimed and resigned by rival competitors, and of heroes whose mortal parts have been dust from ages so remote that their records are read only in “the dim twilight of tradition.”
The historian, Tierney, states that the Keep probably comprised the principal feature of the Saxon stronghold. It is of a circular formation, and of immense strength. The height from the bottom of the fosse, on the external side, was 70 feet; on the internal, 69; which, with walls and battlements, produced an elevation altogether of 96 feet on the east; 103 on the west. The walls varied from 8 to 10 feet, strengthened by ribs and buttresses. The inner space, which is circular, afforded accommodation to the garrison; in extent it varied from 59 to 67 feet in diameter. In the interior were several chambers, converging towards a subterraneous room in the centre. Differing from other Keeps, it contained no openings or loopholes from which the enemy could be annoyed, and it was only from the ramparts and battlements that the garrison could repel the assaults of the assailant. No traces can be seen of the original Saxon entrance.
Connected with the Keep is, of course, the Well-tower. Bevis’s Tower, the Barbican, is seen immediately underneath, while, at a short distance, is “the Chapel of St. Mary, over the gate.”
The square building, known as the Clock Tower (introduced in the engraving), and through which a vaulted Norman passage leads to the Keep, dates from a period not long after the Conquest; parts of it bear unequivocal marks of so early an origin. The upper portion of the building has been renovated; but the lower portion remains almost as perfect as when completed, as it is said to have been, by the first Earl of Arundel. “The passage abutted to the fosse, and was defended by a portcullis and drawbridge.” A window is pointed out from which, A.D. 1139, the Empress Maud, it is said, “scolded” the King, Stephen, who besieged the castle in which she was a guest.
The CHURCH OF ST. MARTIN forms a portion of the Keep, and some relics of the ancient and venerable structure yet endure. It was the oratory of the garrison, and is “mentioned in Domesday Book as enjoying an annual rent of twelve pence, payable by one of the burgesses of Arundel.” From a window of an early date is obtained a view of the castle immediately beneath; but the prospect of the adjacent country is very beautiful, not only of the fertile land and bountiful river, but of the far-off sea; and hours may be pleasantly and profitably spent on this mount that time has hallowed. In bidding the pleasant theme farewell, we cannot do better than quote the old rhyme:—
“Since William rose, and Harold fell, There have been counts of Arundel; And earls old Arundel shall have, While rivers flow and forests wave.”
It is scarcely necessary to add that the grounds and park are worthy of the castle; they are especially beautiful, varied in hill and dale—the free river at their base—full of magnificently grown trees, and comprise eleven hundred acres, well stocked with deer.
In the park, which was originally the hunting forest of the old Earls of Arundel, will be noticed Hiorn’s Tower—a triangular, turreted building, of about 50 feet in height, and designed as a prospect tower by the architect whose name it bears. Near to it is Pugh-Dean, where, it is said, Bevis, the Great Castellan of Arundel, and his famous horse, “Hirondelle,” are buried. A mound, covered with a clump of Scotch fir-trees, is pointed out as his burial-place. Near this place, too, is the site of the old chapel and hermitage of St. James.
The old bridge over the river Arun was situated a short distance below the present structure. It is first mentioned in the charter which Queen Adeliza granted to the monks of the Priory de Calceto, in which lands for their support, and an allowance of timber for repairs of the bridge, were granted. It was entirely rebuilt in 1724, principally of stone taken from the ruins of the adjoining hospital. In 1831 it was widened and improved.
The CHURCH OF THE HOLY TRINITY. All that remains of this once famous establishment is a square building “enclosing a square yard, partly occupied by cloisters, and partly devoted to other purposes of a monastic establishment.” In it are some splendid monuments to members of the noble families who have owned the place. One of the principal is that of Thomas, Earl of Arundel, and his countess, Beatrix, daughter of John, King of Portugal; and another striking feature is a canopied tomb near the altar.
The CHURCH possesses many highly interesting features, and forms a pleasing object in the landscape, from whichever side it is seen. It is cruciform, and consists of a nave with side aisles, a chancel, and transept; and in the centre rises a low tower, surmounted by a diminutive spire.
The original ecclesiastical foundation was that of the alien priory, or cell, dedicated to St. Nicholas, established by Roger de Montgomery, Earl of Arundel, soon after the Conquest, and subjected to the Benedictine Abbey of Seez, or de Sagio, in Normandy. It consisted only of a prior and three or four monks, who continued to conduct the establishment for nearly three centuries, until the third year of the reign of Richard II., when Richard Fitzalan obtained a licence to extinguish the priory and to found a chantry for the maintenance of a master and twelve secular canons with their officers. Upon this change, it was styled “the Church of the Holy Trinity.” At the suppression, it was endowed with a yearly revenue of £263 14_s._ 9_d._
Being intended as the mausoleum of his family, the founder supplied ample means to enrich it with examples of monumental splendour. The tomb of his son, Thomas Fitzalan, and his wife, Beatrix, daughter of John, King of Portugal, was the earliest of those placed in the church. It is of alabaster, finely sculptured, and was formerly painted and gilt. It contains the effigies of the earl and his lady; at the feet of the earl is a horse, the cognizance of the Fitzalans; and at those of his lady are two lap-dogs. Around, in niches, are small standing figures of ecclesiastics, or pleureurs, with open books, as performing funeral obsequies; and above them as many escutcheons. Other stately tombs are erected to the memory of John Fitzalan and his wife, and Thomas Arundel and his wife, “one of the eyres of Richard Woodevyle, Earl Rivers, sister to Elizabeth, Queen of England, sometime wife to King Edward IV.”
The chapel which contains these monuments is still in a dilapidated state, as was the whole church—“ruinated” during the temporary possession of the Iconoclasts of the Commonwealth—until Henry Charles, Duke of Norfolk, restored it, and put upon it a roof, which it had long been without.
Visitors to Arundel will note near the bridge some ancient ruins. According to the historian, Tierney, they are the remains of the _Maison Dieu_, that owed its origin to the same munificence as the collegiate chapel and church. It formed a quadrangle, which was occupied by the chapel, refectory, and its offices, and the various chambers. There was a cloister round the court-yard. Quoting the statutes, “the establishment,” says Mr. Tierney, “was to consist of twenty poor men, either unmarried or widowers, who, from age, sickness or infirmity, were unable to provide for their own sustenance. They were to be selected from among the most deserving of the surrounding neighbourhood, giving the preference only to the servants or tenants of the founder and his heirs; they were to be men of moral lives and edifying conversation, and were required, as a qualification for their admission, to know the ‘Pater Noster,’ the ‘Ave-Maria,’ and the ‘Credo,’ in Latin.”
These buildings were dismantled at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries, and no doubt suffered much at the time of the siege and sack of Arundel, during the Civil War, by the Parliamentarians under the command of Sir William Waller; in 1724 a large quantity of the materials was used in the building of the bridge, that portion only being rescued which is now seen, and which has been preserved by the Duke of Norfolk because of the interest attached to the once sacred structure.
Arundel, with its many attractions, is barely two hours distant from London, and within half an hour of populous Brighton; yet visits of strangers to the old town and venerable castle are comparatively few.
PENSHURST.
PENSHURST—the “Home” of the Sidneys—the stately Sidneys: stately in their character, in their careers, in their patriotism, in their heroism, in their rectitude, and in their verse—is surely one of the best of the Stately Homes of England to be included in our series. The very name of Penshurst seems to call up associations of no ordinary character connected with that heroic race, and with many of the most stirring incidents of British history. With Penshurst every great name memorable in the Augustan age of England is linked for ever; while its venerable aspect, the solemnity of the surrounding shades, the primitive character of its vicinity, together with its isolated position—away from the haunts of busy men—are in harmony with the memories it awakens.
Here lived the earliest and bravest of the Anglo-Norman knights. Here dwelt the ill-fated Bohuns—the three unhappy Dukes of Buckingham, who perished in succession, one in the field and two on the scaffold. And here flourished the Sidneys! Here, during his few brief years of absence from turmoil in the turbulent countries of Ireland and Wales, resided the elder Sidney, Sir Henry, who, although his fame has been eclipsed by the more dazzling reputation of his gallant son, was in all respects good as well as great—a good soldier, a good subject, a good master, and a good counsellor and actor under circumstances peculiarly perilous. This is the birthplace of “the darling of his time,” the “chiefest jewel of a crown,” the “diamond of the court of Queen Elizabeth.” Here, too, was born—and here was interred the mutilated body of—the “later Sidney:” he who had “set up Marcus Brutus for his pattern,” and perished on the scaffold—a martyr for the “good old cause,” one of the many victims of the meanest and most worthless of his race. With the memories of these three marvellous men—the Sidneys, Henry, Philip, and Algernon—are closely blended those of the worthies of the two most remarkable eras in English history. Who can speak of Penshurst without thinking of Spenser,
(“For Sidney heard him sing, and knew his voice,”)
of Shakspere, of Ben Jonson—the laureate of the place—of Raleigh, the “friend and frequent guest” of Broke, whose proudest boast is recorded on his tomb, that he was “the servant of Queen Elizabeth, the counsellor of King James, and THE FRIEND of Sir Philip Sidney”—of the many other immortal men who made the reign of Elizabeth the glory of all time? Reverting to a period less remote, who can think of Penshurst without speaking of the high spirits of a troubled age—
“The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others, who called Milton—friend.”
Although its glory is of the past, and nearly two centuries have intervened between the latest record of its greatness and its present state; although it has been silent all that time—a solemn silence, broken only by the false love-note of an unworthy minstrel, for the names of “Waller” and “Sacharissa” discredit rather than glorify its grey walls—who does not turn to Penshurst as to a refreshing fountain by the wayside of wearying history?
The history of the descent of Penshurst to the Sidneys may be summed up in few words—that of the Sidneys themselves will require greater space. It was “the ancient seat of the Pencestres, or Penchesters, who settled here in Norman times,[31] and one of whom was Sir Stephen, that famous Lord Warden of the Five Ports, and Constable of Dover Castle, who flourished in the reigns of Henry III. and Edward I., and who was a very learned man, and ordered all the muniments, grants, &c., relating to Dover Castle to be written in a fair book, which he called _Castelli Feodarium_, and out of which Darell composed the history of that fortress.” Dying without male issue, his estates were divided between his two daughters and co-heiresses, Joan, wife of Henry Cobham, and Alice, wife of John de Columbers, to the latter of whom fell Penshurst, &c., which was soon afterwards conveyed to Sir John de Poultney, who (15th Edward II.) had license to embattle his mansion houses at Penshurst and elsewhere. He was four times Lord Mayor of London, and, dying, his widow “married Lovaines, and conveyed these estates into that family with consent of her first husband’s immediate heirs;” and they afterwards passed, by an heiress, to Sir Philip St. Clere, whose son sold them to the Regent Duke of Bedford. On his decease in Paris in the reign of Henry VI., Penshurst and other manors passed to his next brother, Humphrey, the “good Duke of Gloucester,” after whose sad death, in 1447, they reverted to the crown, and were, in that same year, granted to the Staffords. On the attainder of Edward, Duke of Buckingham, Penshurst reverted to the Crown.
That brilliant nobleman—whose principal crimes were his wealth, his open, manly, and generous nature, and his wise criticisms of the ruinous expenditure on the “field of the cloth of gold”—was treacherously invited to court by the king, and, suspecting no mischief, he obeyed the summons, and set out on his journey from Thornbury, not observing for some time that he was closely followed by three knights of the king’s body-guard, “and a secret power of servants-at-arms.” His suspicions were first awakened at Windsor, where he lodged for the night, “the same three knights lying close by,” and where he was treated with marked disrespect by the king’s gentleman harbinger. From Windsor, Buckingham rode on to Westminster, and then took his barge to row down to Greenwich, where the court then was, calling, however, on his way, at York House, to see Cardinal Wolsey, who was denied to him. “Well, yet will I drink of my lord cardinal’s wine as I pass,” said the duke: “and then a gentleman of my lord cardinal’s brought the duke with much reverence into the cellar, where the duke drank; but when he saw and perceived no cheer to him was made, he changed colour, and departed.” Passing forward down the Thames, as he neared the City, his barge was hailed and boarded by Sir Henry Marney, captain of the body-guard, who, in the king’s name, attached him as a traitor. He was at once carried on shore and taken through Thames Street to the Tower, “to the great astonishment and regret of the people, to whom he was justly endeared.” This was on the 16th of April, 1521. On the 13th of May he was put on his mock trial and was condemned. “I shall never sue the king for life,” said he; and he kept his word. On the 17th he was executed, without having once supplicated his brutal king to spare the life he was unjustly taking away. “He was as undaunted in sight of the block as he had been before his judges; and he died as brave men die—firmly and meekly, and without bravado.” His death was the grief of the people. “God have mercy on his soul, for he was a most wise and noble prince, and the mirrour of all courtesie”—that was written of him at the time.
By this detestable piece of royal treachery Henry became possessed of the estates of the duke, and held them in his own hands for several years, enlarging Penshurst Park, and reaping benefit from his unhallowed acquisitions. By Edward VI., Penshurst, with its appurtenances, was “granted to Sir Ralph Fane, who, within two years, was executed as an accomplice of the Protector Somerset.”
Soon after this, the young monarch gave Penshurst, with other adjoining estates, to Sir William Sidney, one of the heroes of Flodden Field, “who had been his tutor, chamberlain, and steward of his household from his birth to his coronation.” Thus Penshurst came into the family of the Sidneys, concerning whom we will proceed to give some particulars.
The earliest member of the family of whom aught authentic is known is Sir William Sidney, who lived in the reign of Stephen. His son, Sir Simon (1213), married Margaret, daughter of Sir Thomas Delamere; and their son again, Sir Roger (1239), married Eleanor, daughter of Sir John Sopham, by whom he had issue two sons, Sir Henry (1268), who succeeded him, and Simon; and a daughter, married to Sir John Wales. Sir Henry Sidney married Maud, daughter of Robert d’Abernon, and granddaughter of Sir John d’Abernon. By her he had issue four sons and two daughters, and was succeeded by his eldest son, Sir Henry Sidney, who, marrying a daughter of Sir Ralph Hussey, died in 1306, and was succeeded by his son, Sir William Sidney, who took to wife Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Richard Ashburnham, by whom he had three sons, viz.: William, who married a daughter of John de Altaripa, but died without heirs male; John, who died young; and another John, who succeeded him, and marrying Helen, daughter of Robert Batisford, was the father, by her, of Sir William Sidney. This Sir William took to wife Joanna, daughter of William Brokhull, who married, first, Margaret Orre, and second, Isabell. By his first wife he had issue two sons, John, who succeeded him, and William (of whom presently). This John Sidney had a son John, who married Isabell Payteuine, by whom he had an only daughter and heiress Johanna, who married William Appesley. William Sydney, by his wife, Alicia, daughter and heiress of John Clumford, had one son, William, and four daughters. This William Sidney married Cicely, daughter and co-heiress of Sir John Michell, and Margaret, his wife, who was daughter and heiress of Matham. He was succeeded by his son, William Sidney, who married twice. By his first wife, Isabell St. John, he had a son, William, whose line ended in co-heiresses, married to William Vuedall and John Hampden; and by his second wife, Thomasen, daughter and heiress of John Barrington, and widow of Lonsford (and who, after Sidney’s death, became wife of Lord Hopton), he had issue a son, Nicholas Sidney, who married Anne, cousin and co-heiress of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.
By her he had a son, Sir William Sidney, who married Anne, daughter of Hugh Pagenham, and by her had, besides Sir Henry, who succeeded him, four daughters, viz.: Frances, who became Countess of Sussex by her marriage to Thomas Ratcliffe, Earl of Sussex, Viscount Fitzwalter, Lord Egremont and Burnell, Lord Chamberlain, Knight of the Garter, and one of the Privy Council; Mary, married to Sir William Dormer; Lucy, married to Sir James Harrington; and Anne, married to Sir William Fitzwilliam. This Sir William Sidney was made a knight, 3rd Henry VIII., at the burning of Conquest, and a banneret on Flodden Field, 5th Henry VIII. He was chamberlain to Prince Edward (afterwards Edward VI.), and also steward of his household; and his wife was “governesse of the sayd prince while he was in his nurse’s handes.” To him it was that Penshurst was given by Edward VI. as a mark of affectionate regard. Dying in 1553, he was succeeded by his son, Sir Henry Sidney, who was a Knight of the Garter, Lord President of Wales, and one of the Privy Council; he married Lady Mary, eldest daughter of John, Duke of Northumberland, and by her had issue “the incomparable” Sir Philip, and two other sons, Robert and Thomas, and a daughter, Mary, married to Henry Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. This Henry Sidney was knighted, 3rd Edward VI., and was, when only twenty-two years of age, sent by that amiable young monarch as ambassador to the French court. Under Queen Mary he was Lord Treasurer of Ireland, and Lord Chief Justice, and under Elizabeth was, in 1564, made Lord President of the Council in the Marches of Wales; Knight of the Garter in 1564; and was twice Lord Deputy of Ireland and Lord President of Wales.