Full text of "Old England : a pictorial museum of regal, ecclesiastical, municipal, baronial, and popular antiquities"

Presented to the

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
LIBRARY

by the

ONTARIO LEGISLATIVE
LIBRARY

1980

K^-l

OLD ENGLA

mvmn-0ijgj^ MlffilM"^"*

(kiiyii]

REGAL, ECCLESIASTICAL, MUNICIPAL, BAllONIAL,

AND POPULAR ANTIQUITIES.

EDITED

By CHARLES KNIGHT.

IN TWO VOLUMES.-VOL. I.

LONDON:
JAMES SANGSTER AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW.

r"i

( iii >

ILLUMINATED ENGRAVINGS OE OLD ENGLAND.

VOLUME I.

•,• Some of these Engravings ore described at the pages to which they are H»pe«tiTcly lUisignod in the foUowtag lial Oft«*» •«•

not so doBcribod, although thoy are placed with reference to the general snbject to wliieh they belong. Where M(* *«iripUoi
is not found in the text, wo hero subjoin a more itfirticular notice of the Engraving.

I. THE CORONATION CHAIR

some of which still remain, iiut the gi-eatest oDjeci oi curiosiry m iui» mmisiun, an u.yuut, uiu<.-cu, «■ uu.iui.w.. .u.
was the painted window, of which we have given a faithful copy in the illuminated engiaviug. This window, wc kno
for what cause, was some years ago removed to Aston Hall, in Warwickshire. It has liad the advantage of being de»
and eninaved in (.trmerod's " llistoi-y of Cheshire f and a most beautiful and elaborate series of coloured fac-simiTes, tl:

«, KEEP OF EOCHESTEE CASTLE

4. COUET-CCrPBOAKD IN WAEWTCK CASTLE ... • • • •

The funiituro of the ancient halls and castles of England was for the most part pecnliariy suited to the sixo and structure
of the apartments in wliich it was placed. Much of it was of oak, boldly and richly carved, in a manner exceedingly
appropriate to tlie beauMfnl Gothic style of the windows, the panelling of the walls, and the decorations of the ««»n*e^
pieces and ceilings. I'he ma.ssy sideboard, or court-cupboard, as it is sometimes called, is one of those grand P>ecc" <>• «»
Gothic Curaiture: of wiiH-h, besides the one at Wa\-wick Oivslle represented in our coloured engraving, there are stiD voMaj
specimens rcmaiuing in the old baronial apartments of England.

5. INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE CHUKCH ....•••

6. SCREEN AT THE WEST FRONT OF EXETER CATHEDRAL

7. CHOIR OF ELY CATHEDRAL

a. DRYBURGH ABBEY

9 ENTRANCE TO THE CHAPEL OP EDWARD THE CONFESSOR

Vol. I.

Pam

2 PAINTED WINDOW OF SAXON AND NORMAN EARLS OF CHESTER M

Bhereton Hall, in Cheshire, was built in the reign of Elizabeth, by Sir William Brereton; and it is said th»t the
queen herself laid the foundation-stone. Tbo founder appears to have liberally used the iMsautiful art of staining ^us
in the decoration of his mansion. In many of the windows were the various bearings of the principal Cheshire famfllet,
some of which still remain. But the gieatest object of curiosity in this mansion, an object, indeed, of historical intcrcat,

- - - ' ■ " - ..11.— -'--i., 1 :.._ This window, wc know not

described
and engiaved in (.trmerod's " llistoi-y ot uiiesluro ; ana a mosi oenuuuu auu eiuuurmo Bencn ui tuiuunu luw-onuiies, the size
of the originals, was executed by Mr. William Fowler, and published in J 808. From these onr engraving is copied. Two
of the figures represent Leofwine and Lcofrie, Saxon earls of Mercia. The other figures exhibit the seven Norman carls of
Chester" The first earl, Hugh, suraamcd Lupus, came into England with the Conqueror, who gave to him and his heirs
the county of Chester, to hold as freely by him with the sword as he (William) held by the crovsTi. Ho died in 1103.
Richard the son of Hugh, was the second earl. He was drowned in returning from Noimandy in 1120. Dying without
issue lie was succeeded by his cousin, Randolph do Meschines the third earl, who died in 1129. Tlie fourth carl,
Randolph surnamcd do Gernonijs, took part with the Empress Moud and her son Henry, and he, with l{ol)ert F.ari of
Gloucester made King Stephen prisoner at Lincoln in 1141. He died by poison in 1158. Hugh, surnamcd Cyveliok,
from the place in Wales where he was bom, was the fifth cail: he died in 1180. Randolph, surnamcd Blundcville, wai
the sixth earl. He was a brave, and what was more unsual lor a baron, a learned man, having compiled a treatise on the
Laws of the Realm. He lived in gieat honour and esteem in the reigns of Henry If., Richaiil 1., .Tohn, and Henry III.
He fought in the Holy Land with Cueur<!e-Lion, and was the founder of the abbey of Delacroix, in StaifordKhiro, and of
the Gre'y Friars at Coventry. He died in 1233, having held the earldom fifty-thi-ee years. Although married three times,
ho had no issue ; but was succeeded by his nephew Joiin, sumamed Le Scot. T^pon his death without issue, in the
twenty-second of Henry III., 1238, the King " thought it not good to make a division of the earldom of Chester, it
enjoying such a regal prerogative ; therefore taking the same into his own hands, ho gave unto the sistci-s of John Scot
other lands, and gave the county palatine of Chester to his eldest son." (Ormerod.) .lohn le Scot was therefore the last
independent Earl of Chester. From that time the eldest sons of the sovereigns of England have been Earls of Chester from

the day of their birth. .. . ^ ^ . . ^, . ■ , ^ j

In the painted window it will be observed that each figure is placed withm an arch. Each arch m the onginal window
is seventeen inches in height, and about eight in width between tho columns. The arches are struck from two centres, and
have a keystone, on which is represented a grotesque head under a basket of fruit. It will of course suggest itself to the
reader that this window, being in all probability executed in tho time of Elizabeth, cannot be received as a perfectly faithful
representation even of the.costume of these redoubted vice-kings of the county palatine. Upon this point Ormerod has the
following remarks : " The style of the architecture is of the era of Elizpheth. but an erroneous idea prevails ok to the high
antiquity of these figures, and as to their having been the identical leprescutations of tho earis which formcriy graced the
windows of Chester Abbey." To coiToct this idea the county historian refei-s to a rude drawing in the Harleian MS. 2151,
which shows the character of that ancient glass. But he adds, " It is, however, not unlikely that the figures may hav«
been copied from paintings, stained glass, or monkish illuminations, of considerable antiquity ; though the pamtings themselves
were most probably executed for the decoration of the newly-erected HaU of Brereton at the close of the sixteenth century.

96
101

14a

168
171

203
2.S3

iv ILLUMINATED ENGEAVINGS.

286
290
290
322
343
S71

10. MONUMENT TO SIR FRANCIS VERB

11. THE CHOIR, WESTMINSTER ABBEY

12. HENRY THE SEVENTH'S CHAPEL

13. CHAUCER

14. SHRINE OF HENRY THE FIFTH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY

16. CHANCEL OF THE CHURCH OF STRATFORD-UPON-AVON .

The parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon is a large and handsome structure, of the usual cross-form, with a central
tower surmounted by a spire. The chancel, of which the coloured engraving exhibits a view from the south door, showing
Shakspere's monument on the north wall, is a fine specimen of late perpendicular architecture : the west end of the nave,
the north porch, the piers, arches, and clerestory, are also perpendicular, but of earlier date ; the tower, transept, and some
parts of the nave, are early English : the ancient arches of the tower have been strengthened by underbuildmg them vrith
others of pei-pendicular character. Some of the windows have portions of good stained glass. Shakspere was biu-ied on
the north side of the chancel : his monument on the north wall must have been erected previous to 1623, when his works
were first published ; for Leonard Digges, in the verses prefixed to that edition, thus addresses the departed poet :—

Sliakespeare, at length thy pious fellows give
The world thy works : thy works by which outhve
Thy tomb thy name must ; when that stone is rent,
And time dissolves thy Stratford monument.
Here we alive shall view thee still. This book
When brass and marble fade, shall make thee look
Fresh to all ages.

The sculptor of the monument was Gerard Johnson. It consists of a bust of Shakspere with the body to the waist, under
»ui ornamented arch between two Corinthian columns which support an entablature, above which are the arms and crest of
Shakspere in bold relief, surmounted by a sculptured skull. Below the figure are the following Latin and English verses ;

Judicio Pylium, genio Sooratem, arte Maronem,
Terra tegit, populus mceret, Olympus habet.

Stay, passenger, why goeat thou by so fast?
Bead, if thou canst, whom envious death hath placed
Within this monument — Shakspeare, with whom
Quick Nature died ; whose name doth deck this tomb
Far more than cost ; sith all that he hath writ
Leaves Hving Art but page to serve hia wit.

Oblit Ano. Dni. 1616, setatis 53, die 23 Apr

16. CHANTEY, OR ORATORY OF THE BEAUCHAMP CHAPEL, WARWICK 375

The chantry, or oratory, represented in the illuminated engraving, is a detached building separated from the chapel by
an open screen. It is a beautiful work of art, and the groined ceiling is especially rich and elegant.

17. METHLEY hall 388

Methlbt Hall, or Methley Park, in the West Biding of Yorkshire, seven miles south-east from Leeds, is the-seat of
the Saviles, Earls of Mexboroagh, which family have held the manor for several centuries. The original manor-house was
built by Sir Robert Waterton, in the reign of Henry IV. ; but after the manor became the property of the Saviles, the old
house was pulled down, and the present magnificent mansion erected on its site by Sir John Savile, Baron of the Exchequer,
with additions by bis son Sir Ilenry Savilo, in a handsome and uniform style. Of this building only the hall and the back
part of the house I'ema'n: the far-famed gallery, with its armorial bearings in painted glass, no longer exists ; it has given
place to the present front part of the mansion, which is of no great magnificence without, but contains sojie very fine
apartments, one of which, with its beautiful painted ceiling and pendant ornaments, its antique furniture, rich carving, and
lofty mullioned wiadows, is exhibited in our coloured engraving.

18. MORRIS-BANCE Title

The coloured engi-aving which is given as a title to the first volume of " Old England," is the representation of an ancient
window of stained glass, formerly in the house of George Tollett Esq., of Betley, in Staffordshire, which has been conjectured
by Mr. Douce, from certain peculiarities of costume, to have been executed hi the time of Edward IV. The six Laterior
lozenges, on which we have engi-aved tiie title of our work, are vacant in the original. The figures on the other lozenges
represent the performers of a Morris-Dance round a Mav-pole,. from which are displayed a St. George's red cross and a
white pennon. Immediately below the May-pole is the character who manages the paste-board hobby borse, who, from the
crown which he wears, and the richness of his attire, appears to represent Ihe King of May j wnilo, from the two daggers
stuck in his cheeks, he may be supposed to have been a jaggler and the master of the dance. Beneath the King of May
is Maid Marian, as the Queen of May, with the ciown on bei' head and attired in a style of high fashion, her coif floating
behind, her hair unbound and streaming down hov waist, and holding in her hand an emblematic flower. Margaret, eldest
daughter of Henry VII.. when married to James, King of Scotland, appeared thus, wearing a cro\vn and with her hair
hanging down her back. Of the other characters some are obvious enough, but others are conjectural. The loft-hand
figure at the top is the court fool, with his cockscomb cap and his bauble. The flU-st figure to the rigiit is supposed to
represent a Spaniard, and the next a Morisco or Moor, both men of rank, in rich dresses, with the long outer sleeves
hanging loose like ribbons, a fashion once prevalent in England as well as or) the Continent. Beneath the Morisco is the
instrumental performer, with his pipe and tabor; below him the lover or paramoiu- of Maid Marian; and under him the
friar, in the Franciscan habit. The King of May is the supposed representative of Robin Hood ; the Queen of May, of
his favourite Marian ; and the friar, of his chaplain, Friar Tuck. Passing by Marian, we have the inferior fool furnished
with his bib ; above him the representative of the clown or peasant ; and next above, the franklin or gentleman, The
dresses are curiously appropriate to the characters.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.

BOOK I.

BEFOEE THE CONQUEST.
CHAPTER I.

niB BRITISH PEBIOD

THE ROMAN PERIOD

THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD

CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.

BOOK II.

THE PEEIOD FfiOM THE NOEMAN CONQUEST TO THE DEATH OF
KING JOHN, A.D. 1066—1216.

CHAPTER I.

REGAL AND BARONIAL ANTIQUITIES • •

CHAPTER II.

ECCLESUSTICAL ANTIQUITIES . .

CHAPTER IH.

«u

POPULAR ANTIQUITIES

BOOK III.

THE PERIOD FROM THE ilCCESSION OF HENRY III. TO THE END OF THE EEIGN OP

RICHARD II. X.D. 1216-1399.

CHAPTER I.

REGAL AND BARONUL ANTIQUITIES

CHAPTER 11.

ECCLESIASTICAL ANTIQUITIES . •

CHAPTER III.

_ ^ _ » • ol*

POPULAR ANTIQUITIES

BOOK IV.

THE PERIOD FROM THE ACCESSION OF HENRY IV. TO THE END OF THE REIGN OF

RICHARD III. A.i). 1399—1485.

CHAPTER I.

REGAL AND BARONIAL ANTIQUITIES .

CHAPTER H.

• ECCLESIASTICAL ANTIQUITIES

CHAPTER HL ^

POPULAR ANTIQUITIES . . . • t

'^^

ADVERTISEMExM.

Onk of the roost picturesque dcscriptionn in the
niuKt picturesque of poets,— tliat in * The Fury
<juecn' of the old man who

" thinjfs past could keep in memory,"

shows him Rittin^ In achambcr which "secmrd
ruinous and old," but whose walls were '* rifirht
firm and strong." Such are the Antiquitish
of a (^reat Nation. Thcjr may apricar " wonn-
eaten and l\i!I of cankcr-hnlcs," out they are
toeminff with Ufc, and will be fVcrfli and beauti-
ful aft )on(^ as civilization endures. When the
kni^'hts who looked on the old man of Spenser
had perused his "antique Kcunsters," and had
traced his wondrous legends up to the time of
the llritish kin^^s who

"entombed lie at Stonehengo by the heath,"
one of them bursts forth into this noble apo-
strophe: —

" Drib Country ! O how dearly dear
Ought thy remembrance and perpetual band
Be to thy foster-child, that from thy Hand
Did common breath and nourituro receive I
How brutish is it not to understand
How much to her wo owe, that all us gave ;
That gave unto us all whatever good we have I"

Such is the just effect upon every generous mind
of the study of the " ancient records " of our
native land. The richest treasures that we have
derived from a long line of ancestors arc our
antiqiiitics. They carry us back to dim periods
that Iiave bequeathed tons no written explana-
tion of the origin and the uses of their inde-
fitraotible monuments. Vast mounds, gigantic
temp{es. mystic toirers, belong to ages not of bar-
barism, but of civilization different ft-om our
own. These are succeeded by the retnains of the
great Jioman conquerors of the icorld, who be-
stowed upon Uritain their refinements and their
learning. Our Atiglo-Sazon Arts and Sciences
have left indelible traces, in written descrip-
tions and pictorial representations snatched
from the spoils of time; and in some architec-
tural remams of early piety which have escaped
the ravages of the Dane. Gradually the in-
fiucncescg Chi-istianity arc ftpread over the land;
and the great connecting links between the past
and the present rise up, in the glorious Ecclesias-
tical edifices that we arc now at length learning
to look upon with love and admiration — to pre-
serve anu to restore. Hut there are also monu-
ments scattered through the country of the
antagonist principles of brute force antf military
dominion. The Fetidal Times have left us their
impressive memorials, in Baronial Castles and
crumbling Fortresses, — in the Weapons and Ar-
moiir of their haughty Chieftains. These are
succeeded by the venerable Palaces and Mansions
wlii.h belonged to the ago of early constitutional
Government, when the Laio allowed comfort to
bo studied in conjunction with security. To
this age belong the monuments of Civic Power,

~ihc flails tff OuilJMMdCompcmieS! tnd.more
Important still, the Hplendld seats of lll>eral Xdu-
cation, our KndunYtt Schools and C^leaeg, Amidst
all these instructive though silent enronlcln of
the past, In whirh Kngland Is richer than any
other country, have grown up the inflnitcly-
varicd peculiariticit of the middle classes, durliif^
five centuries in which they have formed the
strength of the nation; and these are preMrred
in numberless evidences of their modei vf lift,
public and domestic. These things are surely of
the deepest hitcrcst even to millions who speak
the languige of "old Kngland," tcsttered
through every quarter of the habitable Olobe.
The Antiquities of BngUnd are the Antlgolties
of North America and of Australia, — of mighty
continents and fertile Islands where the de-
scendants of the Anglo-SoiOD have foondcd
" new nations." Thepr are of especial interest to
every dweller in the tather-lana. These "rem-
nants of History which hare casually escaped
the shipwreck of time" (so Bacon defines Anti-
quities) are amongst the best riches of the
freight of knowledge — not merely curiosities,
but of intrinsic value.

We propose to open to all ranks of the peo-
ple, at the cheapest rale, a complete view of
the REGAL, ECCLKSIASTICAL.llAROXIAL.
MUNICI PAL, and POPULAR ANTlgUlTIKS
OF ENGLAND, bv the publication of the larg-
est collection of Engravings, with explanatory
letterpress, that has ever been devoted to this
important branch of general information. Our
work la addressed to the I*eople ; but the know-
ledge which it seeks to impart will be as scru-
pulously accurate as if it were ezclustTelr in-
tended for the most critical antlquair. To be
Aill and correct it is not necessary to be tedious
and pedantic. That knowledge will be pre-
scntcd« for the most part, in a chroDoloncal
order ; and thus our work will be a Com-
panion and a Key to every English History. The
Enqbatinos will embrace the most remarkable
of our Buildings from the earliest times — Druid-
ical Remains, Catliedrals, Abbeys, Churches,
Colleges, Castles, Civic Halls, Mansions : SepuU
chral Monuments of our Princes and Nobles:
Portraits of British Worthies, and representa-
tions of the localities associated with their
names; Ancient Pictures and fllumincUionf of
Historical Events : the Great Seals and ^mw of
the Monarchy: Coins and Medals: Autoffrapki:
and, scattered amongst these authentic memo-
rials of the rulers of the land, and of those who
sat in high places, the fullest Pictorial indica-
tions of the Industry, the Arts, the Sports, the
Presses, and the DaUy Life of the People.

The twenty-four Colouskd Ehobati^os
which will form a portion of the work will con-
sist of FaC'Similes of Elaborate Architectural
Draicings, made expressly for this publication,
and forming in themselves a most interesting
aeries of Picturesque Antiquities.

'a* Ttic Border reprewnto the fottowini; objrcto:— at lh« top, Rtimr'ttcn)]:?. from Uie Snll«bufT vdr; oa lb* l«-A
luoiil— llom^in riiim)«, Duvrr; Keep. K«niIwofth Castle ; Ute Duke'a Houbc, ilnulfunl ; Bu«r-(nipi ; on Uw right
tiiiiKl— PercnM-jr C'Mlte ; llustion. •nd Tower of CaUiedral, Caobrburjr , Caiin Gate of Uonoor, Oftinbridgr ; To«b
of Queen Eltubolh , at Uie Toot, Suulb Terrace and Kouwl Tower, WindMr CuUe.

BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.-THE BRITISH PERIOD.

ARUM Plain— the Salisbury Plain
of our own day — an elevated plat-
form of clialk, extending as far as
the eye can reach in broad downs
where man would seem to liave no
abiding place, presents a series of
objects as interes-ting in their degree
as the sands where the pyramids and
' sphinxes of ancient Egypt have
stood for countless generations.
n Tills plain would seem to be the
cradle of English civilization. The
works of man in the earliest, ages
of the world may be buried beneath the hills or the rivers; but we
can trace back the labours of those who have tenanted the same soil
as ourselves, to no more remote period than is indicated by the stone
circles, the barrows, tlie earth-works, of Salisbury Plain and its
immediate neighbourhood.

The great wonder of Salisbury Plain, — the most remarkable mo-
nument of antiquity in our island, if we take into account its com-
parative preservation as well as its grandeur — is Stonehenge. It
is situated about seven miles north of Salisbury. It may be most
conveniently approached from the little town of Amesbury. Pass-
ing by a noble Roman earth-work called the Camp of Vespasian, as
we ascend out of the valley of the Avon, we gain an uninterrupted
view of the undulating downs which surround us on every side.
Tiie name of Plain conveys an inadequate notion of the character
of this singular district. The platform is not flat, as might be ima-
gined ; but ridge after ridge leads the eye onwards to the bolder hills
of the extreme distance, or the last ridge is lost in the low horizon.
The peculiar character of the scene is that of the most complete soli-
tude. It is possible that a sliepherd boy may be descried watching
his flocks nibbling the short thymy grass with wliich the downs are
everywliere covered ; but, with the exception of a shed or a hovel,
there is no trace of human dwelling. This peculiarity arises from the
physical character of the district. It is not that man is not here, but
that iiis abodes are hidden in the little valleys. On each bank of the
Avon to the east of Stonehenge, villages and hamlets are found at
every mile ; and on the small branch of tlie Wyly to the west (here
is a cluster of parishes, each with its church, in whose names, such as
Orcheston Maries, and Shrawston Virgo, we hail the tokens of in-
stitutions wiiicli left Stoneiienge a ruin. We must not hastily con-
tlude, therefore, that this great monument of antiquity was set up in
an unpeopled region ; and tliat, whatever might be its uses, it was
visited only by pilgrims from far-off" places. But the 'aspect of
Stonehenge, as we have said, is that of entire solitude. The distant
view is somewhat disappointing to the raised expectation. The hull
of a large ship, motionless on a wide sea, with no object near by
which to measure its bulk, appears an insignificant thing : it is a
speck in tlie vastne's by which it is surrounded. Approach that
ship, and the largeness of its parts leads us to estimate the grandeur
of the whole. So is it with Stoneiienge. The vast plain occupies
so inucli of the eye that even a large town set down upon it would
appear a hamlet. But as we approach the pile, the mind gradually
becomes impressed with its real character. It is now the Chorea
Gigantum — the Choir of Giants; and the tradition that Merlin the
Magician brought the stones from Ireland is felt to oe a poetical
liomage to the greatness of tlie work.

Keeping in view tlie ground-plan of Stonehenge in its present
state (Fig. 1), we will ask tlie reader to follow us while we describe
the appearance of the structure. Great blocks of stone, some of

wliich arc standing and some prostrate, rorm tlie (omewluit eoiiruMd
circular mass in the centre of the plan. The outermost thadowcd
circle represenU an inner ditch, a vallum or bank, and an exterior
ditch, m, n. The height of the bank is 15 feet ; the diameter of the
space enclosed within the bank is 300 feet. The lection / »liowa
their formation. To the north-east the ditch and bank run off into
an avenue, a section of which i.s shown at p. At the di<tanc« of
about 100 feet from the circular ditch is a large gray ■lone bent
forward, a, which, in the dim light of the evening, loolu like a gi-
gantic human being in the attitude of supplication. The direct
course of the avenue is impeded by a stone, b, which has fallen in the
ditch. A similar single stone is found in corresponding monu-
ments. In the line of the avenue at the point marked r i* a
supposed entrance to the first or outer circle of (tone*. At the
points d near the ditch are two large cavities in the ground. There
are two stones e, and two o, also near the ditch. It is conjectured by
some, that these formed part of a circle which has been almost to-
tally destroyed. The centre of the enclosed space is usually deno-
minated the temple. It consists of an outer circle of stone*, seventeen
of which remain in their original position ; and thirteen to the north-
east, forming an uninterrupted segment of the circle, leave no doubt
as to the form of the edifice. The restored plan of Dr. Stukeley (Fig.
2) shows the original number of stones in this outer circle to have
been thirty ; those shadowed on the plan are still remaining. The up-
right stones of the outer circle are 14 feet in height, and upon the
tops of them has been carried throughout a continuous impost, as it
is technically called, of large flat stones of the same width. This
has not been a rude work, as we see in the structures called crom-
lechs, where a flat stone covers two or three uprights, without any
nice adjustment : but at Stonehenge suflScient remains to show that
the horizontal stones carefully fitted each other, so as to form each
an arc of the circle ; and that they were held firmly in their place*
by a deep mortice at each end, fitting upon the tenon of (ho up-
rights. This careful employment of the builder's art constitutei
one of the remarkable peculiarities of Stonehenge. The blocks
themselves are carefully hewn. It is not necessary to add to our
wonder by adopting the common notion that the neighbouring
country produces no such material. The same fine-grained sand
stone of which the greater number of the masses consists, is found
scattered upon the downs in the neighbourhood of Marlborough and
Avebury. The stones of the second circle are, however, of a dif-
ferent character; and so is what is called the altar-stone, marked/
on the ground-plan. Of the inner circle, enclosing a diameter of
83 feet, which appears to have consisted of much smaller stonek
without imposts, but about the same in number as the outer circle,
there are very few stones remaining. There is a single fallen stone
with two mortices g, which has led to the belief that there was some
variation in the plan of the second circle, such as is indicated by the
letter a on the restored plan. Within the second circle were five
distinct erections, each consisting of two very large stones with ai.
impost, with three smaller stones in advance of each: these have
been called trilithons. That marked h in the ground-plan is the
largest stone in the edifice, being 21 feet 6 inches in height. The
two trilithons marked i are nearly perfect. The stones of the trili-
thon k are entire ; but it fell prostrate as recently as 1797. The ex-
ternal appearance which the whole work would have if restored, is
shown in the perspective elevation (Fig. 3). The internal arrai^-
ment is exhibited in the section (Fig. 4). The present appearance
of the ruin from different points of view is shown in Figs. 5 and 6.

The description which we have thus given, brief as it is, may
appear somewhat tedious ; but it is necessary to understand th«

fi.,-,-«-Jb*^

jB^ — Oround-PUui or Stoiwheqge fn its present state.

6.— StoDeheDge.

6.— Stonebenge,^

S,—Stonehenge.— Perspective Elevation restored.

C^ andCSrcIe. ''<>

Q. "- B!

u ^

% ^

•^

Altar.

.i\i.: I

•^

"^o

^ )» w ^

2,; -Stonehenge. — Restored Plan.

?0 ff

4.— Stonehwige i section 1 to 2 fReatored Plan, Fig. 2), 1O5 feet.

t.— Dnildical Circle at Darab."

8.— Dnddical Stone in Persia.

lO.^Astronomlcftl Itulnim(>nt,

17.— Swum Itaio.

15.— Oronp of Areh-Dnild and Dnildi.

11.— Gtslish D«lty Hisu».

9.— DrnMlc*! Clrd* of Jerwr-

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book L

general plan and some of tlie details of every great work of art, of
whatever age, ruinous or entire, before the mind can proparly apply
itself to the associations whicii belong to it. In Stonehenge tliis
course is more especially necessary ; for however the imagination
may be impressed by tlie magnitude of those masses of stone which
still remain in their places, by tlie grandeur even of tiie fragments
confused or broken in their fall, by the consideration of the vast
labour required to bring such ponderous substances to tiiis desolate
spot, and by surmise of the nature of the mechanical skill by whicli
they were lifted up and placed in order and proportion, it is not
till the entire plan is fully compreliended that we can properly
surrender ourselves to the contemplations which belong to this
remarkable scene. It is then, when we can figure to ourselves a
perfect structure, composed of such huge materials symmetrically
arranged, and possessing, therefore, that beauty which is the result
of symmetry, that we can satisfactorily look back through the dim
light of history or tradition to the object for which such a structure
was destined. The belief now appears tolerably settled that Stone-
henge was a temple of the Druids. It differs, however, from all
other Druidical remains, in the circumstance that greater mecha-
nical art was employed in its construction, especially in the super-
. incumbent stones of the outer circle and of the trilithons, from
which it is supposed to derive its name ; slan being the Saxon for
a stone, and heng to hang or support. From this circumstance it is
maintained tliat Stonehenge is of the very latest ages of Druidism ;
and that the Druids that wholly belonged to the ante-historic period
followed the example of those who observed the command of the
law : " If thou wilt make me an altar of stone, thou slialt not build
it of hewn stone: for if thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou hast
polhited it." (Exodus, chap, xx.) Regarding Stonehenge as a work
of masonry and architectural proportions, Inigo Jones came to the
conclusion that it was a Roman Temple of the Tuscan order. This
was an architect's dream. Antiquaries, with less of taste and fancy
that Inigo Jones, have had their dreams also about Stonehenge,
almost as wild as the legend of Merlin flying away with the stones
from the Curragh of Kildare. Some attribute its erection to the
Britons after the invasion of the Romans. Some bring it down to
as recent a period as that of the usurping Danes. Others again
carry it back to the early days of the Phoenicians. The first
notice of Stonehenge is found in the writings of Nennius, who lived
in tlie ninth century of the Christian era. He says that at the spot
where Stonehenge stands a conference was held between Hengist
and Vortigern, at which Hengist treacherously murdered four
hundred and sixty British nobles, and that their mourning sur-
viv(>rs erected the temple to commemorate the fatal event. Mr. Da-
vies, a modern writer upon Celtic antiquities, holds that Stonehenge
was the place of this conference between the Britisii and Saxon
princes, on account of its venerable antiquity and peculiar sanctity.
There is a passage in Diodorus Siculus, quoted from Hecatseus, which
describes a round temple in Britain dedicated to Apollo ; and this
Mr. Davies concludes to have been Stonehenge. By another
writer. Dr. Smith, Stonehenge is maintained to have been " the
grand orrery of the Druids," representing, by combinations of its
stones, the ancient solar year, the lunar month, the twelve signs of
the zodiac, and the seven planets. Lastly, Stonehenge has been
pronounced to be a temple of Budha, the Druids being held to be a
race of emigrated Indian philosophers.

Startling as this last assertion may appear to be, a variety of facts
irresistibly lead to the conclusion tluit the circles, the stones of
memorial, the cromlechs, and other monuments of the highest an-
tiquity in these islands, have a distinct resemblance to other monu-
ments of the same character scattered over Asia and Europe, and
even found in tlie New World, which appear to have had a common
origin. In Great Britain and Ireland, in Jersey and Guernsey, in
France, in Germany in Denmark and Sweden, such monuments
are found extensively dispersed. They are found also, though more
rarely, in the Netherlands, Portugal, and Malta ; in Gozo and
Phoenicia. But their presence is also unquestionable in Malabar,
in India, in Palestine, in Persia. Figures 7 and 8 represent a
Druidical circle, and a single upright stone standing^alonenear the
circle, which are described by Sir AVilliam Ouseley as seen by
him at Darab, in the province of Fars, in Persia. Our engravings
are copied from those in Sir William Ouseley's book. We have
placed them upon the same page with the representations of Stone-
henge. If we had obliterated the Oriental figures, a superficial
observation .tiight easily receive them as representations of Stone-
henge from another point of view. The circle of stones at Darab
is surrounded by a wide and deep ditch and a high bank of earth ;
there is a central stone, and a single upright stone at some distance
from the main group. The resemblance of the circle at Darab to

the general arrangement of Stonehc ige, and other similar monu-
ments of Europe, led Sir William iseley to the natural conclu-
sion that a "British Antiquary might be almost auliiorised to pro-
nounce it Druidical, according to the general application of the word
among us." At Darab there is a peculiarity wliich is not found at
Stonehenge, at least in its existing state. Under several of the
stones there are recesses, or small caverns. In this particular, and
in the general rudeness of its construction, the circle of Darab
resembles the Druidical circle of Jersey (9), although the circle
there is very much smaller, and the stones of very inconsiderable
dimensions, — a copy in miniature of such vast works as those of
Stonehenge and Avebury. This singular monument, which was
found buried under the earth, was removed some fifty years ago by
General Conway, to his seat near Henley, the stones being placed
in his ganlen according to the original plan.

When we open the great store-house not only of divine truth but
of authentic history, we find the clearest record that circles of stone
were set up for sacred and solemn purposes. The stones which
were taken by Joshua out of the bed of the Jordan, and set up in
Gilgal, supply the most remarkable example. The name Gilgal
itself signifies a circle. Gilgal subsequently became a place not only
of sacred observances, but for the more solemn acts of secular
government. It was long a controversy, idle enough as such
controversies generally are, whether Stonehenge was appropriated
to religious or to civil purposes. If it is to be regarded as a
Druidical monument, the discussion is altogether needless ; for the
Druids were, at one and the same time, the ministers of religion,
the legislators, the judges, amongst the people. The account which
Julius Caesar gives of the Druids of Gaul, marked as it is by his
usual clearness and sagacity, may be received without hesitation
as a description of the Druids of Britain : for he says, " the system
of Druidism is thought to have been formed in Britain, and from
thence carried over into Gaul ; and now those who wish to be more
accurately versed in it for the most part go thither (/. e. to Britain)
in order to become acquainted with it." Nothing can be more ex-
plicit than his account of the mixed office of the Druids : " They
are the ministers of sacred things ; they have the charge of sacri-
fices, both public and private ; they give directions for the ordi-
nances of religious worship (religiones interpretantur). A great
number of young men resort to them for the purpose of instruction
in their system, and they are held in the highest reverence. For it
is they who determine most disputes, whether of the afl^airs of the
state or of individuals: and if any crime has been committed, if a
man has been slain, if there is a contest concerning an inheritance
or the boundaries of their lands, it is the Druids who settle the
matter: they fix rewards and punishments: if any one, whether in
an individual or public capacity, refuses to abide by their sentence,
they forbid him to come to tlie sacrifices. This punishment is amon"
tliem very severe; those on whom this interdict is laid are ac-
counted among the unholy and accursed ; all fly from them, and
shun their approach and their conversation, lest they should be in-
jured by their very touch ; they are placed out of the pale of the
law, and excluded from all offices of honour." After noticing that
a chief Druid, whose office is for life, presides over the rest, Cajsar
mentions a remarkable circumstance which at once accounts for the
selection of such a spot as Sarum Plain, for the erection of a great
national monument, a temple, and a seat of Justice : — " These
Druids hold a meeting at a certain time of the year in a consecrated
spot in the country of the Carnutes (people in the neighbourhood
of Chartres), which country is considered to be in the centre of all
Gaul. Hither assemble all from every part who have a litigation,
and submit themselves to their determination and sentence." At
Stonehenge, then, we may place the seat of such an assize. There
were roads leading direct over the plain to the great British towns
of Winchester and Silchester. Across the plain, at a distance not
exceeding twenty miles, was the great temple and Druidical settle-
ment of Avebury. The town and hill-fort of Sarum was close at
hand (23). Over the dry clialky downs, intersected by a few streams
easily forded, might pilgrims resort from all the surrounding
country. The seat of justice which was also the seat of the highest
religious solemnity, would necessarily be rendered as magnificent
as a rude art could accomplish. Stonehenge might be of a later
period than Avebury, with its mighty circles and long avenues of
unhewn pillars ; but it might also be of the same period, — the one
distinguished by its vastness, the other by its beauty of proportion.
The justice executed in that judgment-seat was, accordini- to
ancient testimony, bloody and terrible. The reli'i-ious rites were
debased into the fearful sacrifices of a cruel idolatry. But it is
imposf ible not to feel that at the bottom of these superstitions there
was a deep reverence for what was high and spiritual : that not only

(.'UAI'. i.J

OLD ENGLAND.

were tlie Druids the instructors of youth, but the preservers and
(lissuniiiiatiirs of science, the proclainiers of an existence beyond this
finite and material world — idolaters, but nevertheless teaching sonie-
tiiinij nobler tiian wliat belongs to tiie mere senses, in the midst of
their idolatry. We give entire what Caesar says of the religious
system of this remarkable body of men : —

" It is especially tlu; object of the Druids to inculcate this — that
souls do not perish, l)nt after deatii jjass into other bodies : and they
consider that by tiiis lielief more tlian anytliing else men may be
led to cast away the fear of death, and to become courageous.
They discuss, moreover, many points concerning the heavenly bodies
and tlu'ir motion, tlie extent of the universe and the world, the na-
ture of things, the iniluence and ability of the immortal gods ; and
they instruct tiie youth in these things.

"The whole nation of the Gauls is much addicted to religious
ob.servances, and, on that account, those who are attacked by any of
tlio more serious diseases, and tliose who are involved in the dangers
of warfare, either ofter human ^acrifices or make a vow that they
will ort'er tlieni ; and tiiey employ the Druids to officiate at these
sacrifices ; for they consider that the favour of the immortal gods
cannot be conciliated unless tiie life of one man be offered up for
that of another : they have also sacrifices of tlie same kind appointed
on behalf of the state. Some have images of enormous size, the
limbs of whicli they make of wicker-work, and fill with living men,
and setting them on fire, the men are destroyed by the flames.
They consider that the torture of those who have been taken in the
connnission of theft or open robbery, or in any crime, is more agree-
able to the iiiiiiiortal gods; but when there is not a sufiicient num-
ber of criminals, they scruple not to inllict this torture on the inno-
cent.

" The chief deity whom they worship is Mercury ; of him they
have many images, and they consider him to be tiie inventor of all
arts, tiieir guide in all their journeys, and that he has the greatest
influence in the pursuit of wealth and the affairs of con)merce.
Next to him they worship Apollo and Mars, and Jupiter and Mi-
nerva ; and nearly resemble other nations in their views respecting
these, as that Apollo wards off diseases, that Minerva communicates
tlie rudiments of manufactures and manual arts, that Jupiter is the
ruler of the celestials, that Mars is the god of war. To Mars, when
they have determined to engage in a pitched battle, they commonly
devote whatever spoil they may take in the war. After the contest,
they slay all living creatures that are found among the spoil ; the
other things they gather into one spot. In many states, heaps raised
of these things in consecrated places may be seen : nor does it often
liappen that any one is bo unscrupiilous as to conceal at home any
part of the spoil, or take it away when deposited : a very heavy
punishment witii torture is denounced against that crime.

" All the Gauls declare that they are descended from Father Dis
(or Pluto), and this, they say, has been handed down by the Druids :
for this reason, they distinguish all spaces of time not by the number
of days, but of nights ; they so regidate their birth-days, and the
beginning of the months and years, that the days shall come after
the night."*

The precise description which Caesar has thus left us of the re-
ligion of the Druids — a religion which, whatever doubts may have
been thrown upon the subject, would appear to have been the pre-
vailing religion of ancient Britain, from the material monuments
which are spread through the country, and from the more durable
records of popular superstitions — is different in some particulars
which have been supplied to us by other writers. According to
Caesar, the Druids taught that the soul of man did not perish with
his perishable body, but passed into other bodies. But the language
of other writers, Mela, Diodorus Siculus, and Ammianus Marcel-
linus, would seem to imply that the Druids held the doctrine of the
immortality of the soul as resting upon a nobler principle than that
described by Caesar. They believed, according to the express state-
ment of Ammianus Marcellinus, tliat the future existence of the
spirit was in another world. The substance of their religious system,
according to Diogenes Laertius, was comprised in their three pre-
cepts — to worship the gods, to do no evil, and to act with courage.
It is held by some that they had a secret doctrine for the initiated,
whilst their ritual observances were addressed to the "-rosser senses
of the multitiule; and that this doctrine was the belief in one God.
Their veneration for groves and of oak and for sacred fountains was
an expression of that natural worship which sees the source of all
good in the beautiful forms with which the earth is clothed. The
sanctity of the mistletoe, the watch-fires of spring and summer and
autumn, traces of which observances still remain araon<rst us, were

* C;o3ar do Bell. Gall., lib. vi. Our triuislation is tliat <Jf tlie article " Bri-
tamiia," iii the Beuny Cyclopedia.

tributes to the boutity of the All-giver, who alone could nuke the
growth, the ripening, and the gathering of the fruit* of the tartli
pro[iitious. 'I'he sun and the moon regulated ibeir ftvtivaU, and
there is little doubt formed (tart of their outward wonhip. Aa as-
tronomical instrument found in Irelaml (Fig. 10) is held to nanmut
the moon's orbit and the pliases of the planets. They wonhipped,
too, according to Cu.'sar, the divinities of Greece aiid Room, such
as Mars and A|K)11o : but C'tcsar does not give u» their native namciL
He probably found ascribed to these British gods like attribute*
of wisdom and of power as those of Rome, and so gave iImiii
Uuman names. Under the church of Notre Dame, at I'aris, wm
found in the last century tno bas-ieliefs of Celtic deities, tlie one
C<'rnunnos (Fig. 1 1), the other Ilesus (Fig. 12), cores{Kinding to Um
Uoman Mars. Other writers confirm Caesar's account of their human
sacrifices. This is the most revolting part of the Druidical supet^
stition. The shuddering with which those who live under a pure
revelation must regard such fearful corruptions of the principle of
devotion, which in some form or other sfvm* an essential part of
the a>nstitution of the human faculties, produced this dckcripiion of
Stonehenge from tlie pen of a laborious and pious antiquary, Mr.
King: — " Although my mind was previously filled with determined
aversion, and a degree of horror, on reflecting upon the abomina-
tions of which this spot must have been the scene, and to which it
even gave occasion, in the later periods of Druidisin, yet it was im-
possible not to be struck, in the still of the evening, whilst the
moon's {Kile light illumined all, with a reverential awe, at the
solemn appearance produced by the different shades of this immense
group of astonishing masses of rock, artificially placed, imjiending
over head with threatening aspect, bewildering the mind with the
almost inextricable confusion of their relative situations with respect
to each other, and from their rudeness, as well as from their prodigious
bulk, conveying at one glance all the ideas of stupendous greatuesa
that could be well assembled together." And yet the "determined
aversion and degree of* horror " thus justly felt, and strongly ex-
pressed, might be mitigated by the consideration that in nation*
wholly barbarous the slaughter of prisoners of war is indiscriminate,
but that the victim of the sacrifice is the preserver of the ma**.
If the victims once slain on the Druidical altars were culprits sacri-
ficed to offended justice, the blood-stained stone of the sacred circle
might find a barbarous parallel in the scaffold and the gibbet of
modern times. J]ven such fearful rites, if connected with some-
thing nobler than the mere vengeance of man upon his fellows, are
an advance in civilization, and they are not wholly inconsistent with
that rude cultivation of our spiritual being which existc<l under
the glimmerings of natural impulses, before the clear light of heavec
descended upon the earth.

We stand without the bank of Stonehenge, and we look upon the
surrounding plains, a prospect wide as the sea. We walk along the
avenue previously noticed which extends for the third of a mlie on
the north-east. It then divides into two branches, tne northward
of which leads to what is called the cursus. This is a flat tract of
land, bounded on each side by banks and ditches. It is more than
a mile and five furlongs in length. Antiquaries have not settled
whether it was a more recent Roman work or an ap|)endage to the
Druidical Stonehenge. At either extremity of the cursus are found
what are called barrows. The southern branch of the avenue runs-
between two rows of barrows. On every side of Stonehenge we
are surrounded with barrows. Wherever we cast our eyes we see
these grassy mounds lifting up their heads in various forms (Fig.
18). Some are of the shape of bowls, and some of bells ; some are
oval, others nearly triangular ; some present a broad but slight ele-
vation of a circular form, surrounded by a bank and a ditch (Figs.
19, 20, 21, and 22). The form of others is so feebly marked that
they can be scarcely traced, except by the -' adows which they cast
in the morning and evening sun. This is the g^reat burial-place of
generations long passed away. Spenser tells us, according to the
old legends, that a long line of British kings here lie entombed.
Milton, in his History, relates their story, " Be it for nothing else
but in favour of our English poets and rhetoricians." The poets liad
used these legends before Milton collected them. If the old kings
were here buried, though their very existence be now treated as a
fable, they have wondrous monuments which have literally survived
those of brass and stone. Unquestionablj- there were distinctions
of rank and of sex amongst those who were here entombed. Their
graves have been unmolested by the various spoilers who have ra-
vaged the land ; and, what is more important to their preservation,
the plough has spared them, in these chalky downs which rarely
repay the labours of cultivation. But- the antiquary has broken
into them witii his spade and his mattock, and he has established their
sepulchral character, and the jieculiarities of their sepulture. Sir

18.— a. IxmBBaiTow. 6, c. Drni'l Barrows, d. Bell shaped Barrow, e. Conical Barrow, f. Twin Barrow.

2S.— Ecmdns of Old Sarum.

\ Flint Arrow-IIeaJs.

3.
4.

1 CtUs.

AVeapon.

Pin.

Arrow-Hcads.

^Of Bronze.

Dirk or Knife.

Spear-Head. J

I..ance-nead.

Brass Knife in sheath
stag's-horn handle.

set in

Flint Spear-Head.

Ivory Tweezers.

Ivory Bodkin.

Amher Ornamen

16. Necklace of Shellff.

17. Beade of Glass.

18. Ivory Ornament.
J9. Nippers.

20. Stone for Sling.

21. Stone to sbarpen boop.

22. Ring Amulet.

23. Breastplate of Blue Slate.

24. Incense Cup.

25. Ditto.

26. Ditto.

27. ■\Vbetstone.
28 to 32. Urns.

33 to 37. Driuking-Cufw.

•.A

• J . • • • -• -■

*\ ••• y •• . *l
1 • • • .J

* * • • MM

• 1V^'. *' -'iiyTM

^K^T' nM**4lti(U'«.

U.— Utnoral Vlaw of Aburj— rrtloml.

.;,J Y-- ''

».— Aba>7. blnMFlM.

tvU*

IS.— Arcb-DnU la bl« Cult Jnliail CMIuinc.

sa— Onu meota ud FMtm of Uw Anctaal BrtMa

' -.^^--^iara*^'

^•^3J3oi£6CtC«>-CUJ^3-i>-C><)BQ«<iO»Cl

Oar, ^ ^ «i^i.d. dliffi^aCa

r-"^^^gQ r»r>n isn nr*nii.nn.n r » n'iinn,

- _c:^CTLjtk>f^ ^^i^it^ir^-^f.

IS.— \\Mij. BIrd'Kjra view fhm tfa« North,

11.— BrilWi WeifKiM o{ Pro—, ia tt* carUol •■< laiproni tUle.

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

Eiekard Colt lloare, who devoted a life lo the exauiinatioii of the
antiquities of Wiltshire, justly says : " We must not consider every
barrow as a mere tumulus, or mound, loosely or fortuitously thrown
up : but must rather view them as works of evident design, and ex-
ecuted with the greatest symmetry and precision." These remark-
able monuments contain not only the bones and the ashes of the
dead, but various articles of utility and ornament, domestic utensils,
weapons of war, decorations of the person, perhaps insignia of
honour (Figs. 13 and 14), the things which contributed to comfort,
to security, and to the graces of life (Fig. 24). Jlela says that the
Druidical belief in a future state led the people to bury with the
dead things useful to the living. The contents of tliese barrows
indicate difl'erent stages of the arts. In some there are spear-heads
and arrow-heads of flint and bone (Fig. 16); in others brass and
iron are employed for the same weapons. In some the earthen ves-
sels are rudely fashioned, and appear to have been dried in the sun ;
in others they are of regular form, as if produced by the lathe, and
are baked and ornamented. But whatever be the difference in the
comparative antiquity of these barrows, it is a remarkable fact that
in those of South Wiltshire, which have nearly all been explored,
nothing whatever has been discovered wliich could indicate that this
mode of sepulture was practised after the Roman dominion had
commenced in Britain. The coins of the conquerors of the world
are not here to be looked for.

Towards tlie northern extrenjity of that extensive range of ciialky
downs which, whether called Salisbury Plain or Marlborough Downs,
present the same geological character, we find the seat of one of
the most remarkable monuments of tlie ancient inhabitants of this
island. About a mile to the north of the great road from Bath to
London is the village of Abury or Avebury. A traveller unac-
quainted with the history of tliis little village, lying in its peaceful
obscurity on the banks of the Kennet, out of the connnon way of
traflSc, might walk througli it almost without noticing the vast
blocks of stone which lie scattered at very irregular distances
amongst its ploughed fields, or stand, as if defying time and man,
close by the farmer's homestead. Year after year has their number
been diminished ; so that if we had only now begun to judge of the
whole from its remaining parts, the great temple of Abury might
have appeared to the incredulous eye little more than the imaginative
creation of confiding antiquarianism. Upon the neighbouritig downs
there are large blocks of stone lying here and there, and seeming
perhaps as symmetrically arranged as the remains of Abury. The
shepherds call them the Grey Wethers, a name which implies that
they have an affinity to natural objects. Blan, indeed, has not
disturbed their rest since they were tlirown on these downs like
pebbles cast by the Titans. The land upon which the Grey Wethers
lie is too barren for culture ; but the soil of Abury rendered the
great Druidical temple an incumbrance upon its fertility. For two
centuries we can trace the course of its destruction. Gibson de-
scribes it as " a monument more considerable in itself than known
to the world. For a village of the same name being built within
the circumference of it, and, by the way, out of its stones too, what
by gardens, orchards, enclosures, and the like, the prospect is so
interrupted that it is very hard to discover the form of it." The
good old gossip Aubrey saw the place in 1648, and Charles the

Second desired him to write an account of it in 1663. The Kino-

himself went to see it ia that year ; and perhaps we can have no
better evidence than this of the remarkable character of the struc-
ture ; for Charles, we imagine, would be as sceptical as Edie
Ochiltree* about the existence of circles, and avenues, and altar-
stones, and cromlechs, whose plan could be indicated only by a few
crumbling sand-stones. Gibson, continuing his very brief notice
of Abury, says, " It is environed by an extraordinary vallum, or
rarapire, as great and as high as that at Winchester ; and within it
is a graff (ditch or moat) of a depth and breadth proportionable.
.... The graff' hath been surrounded all along the edge of it
with large stones pitched on end, most of which are now taken away ;
but some marks remaining give liberty for a conjecture, that they
stood quite round." In Aubrey's time, sixty-three stones, wliich he
describes, were standing within the entrenched exclosure. Dr.
Stukeley made a minute examination of Abury, from 1720 to 1724
His work, ' Abury, a Temple of the British Druids,' was published
in 1 743. King says, " In Dr. Stukeley's time, when the destruction
of the wliole for the purpose of building was going on so rapidly
still forty-four of the stones of the great outward circle were left,
and many of the pilLars of tlie great avenue : and a great cromlech
was in being, the vipper stone of which he hiras'^lf saw broken and
carried away, the fragments of it alone making no less than twenty

* "Prajtorian here, Prwtorian tliere, I mind tlio higging o't." Scott's

Ar.tiqiuiry.

good cartloads." In 1812, according to Sir Richard IIoare,only
seventeen of the stones remained within the great enclosure. Their
number has been since still further reduced. The barbarism of the
Turks, who burned the marble monuments of Greece for lime, may
find a parallel in the stone-breakers of Abury, and in many other
stone-breakers and stone-defacers, — the beautifiers as bad as the
destroyers, — in our own country, and almost in our own day.

Dr. Stukeley, who brought to the study of these early antiquities
something similar to the genius by which a naturalist can discover
tlie structure of a fossil animal by the formation of a tooth or a
claw, has given us some very complete plans for the restoration of
Abury ; and although he has been sometimes held to be enthusiastic
and credulous, there is such sound foundation for his conjectures in
this particular case, tiiat antiquarians are pretty well agreed to
speak of Abury, as it was, upon his authority. His admiration of
this monument is, as we might expect, somewhat exaggerated.
Aubrey said, " These antiquities are so exceedingly old that no
books do reach them ; I can affirm that I have brought this temple
from utter darkness into a thin mist." But Stukeley endeavours to
bring the original structure of the building into the clear liglit of
day ; and to describe it as perspicuously as if the ground-plans of
the Arch-Druid architect were lying before him. We may smile
at this ; but we must not foi^et that the elements of such an erec-
tion are very simple. Ko one doubts about the great circular val-
lum and ditch which surround the principal work. It was there
when Aubrey wrote ; it remains to this day, however broken and
obscured. The plan (Fig. 26) exhibits this bank e with the ditch/:
immediately within the ditch was a circle of stones, dotted on the
plan. This circle is stated to have been composed of a hundred
stones, many from fifteen to seventeen feet in height, but some
much smaller, and others considerably higher, of vast breadth, in
some cases equal to the height. The distance between each stone
was about twenty-seven feet. The circle of stones was about
thirteen hundred feet in diameter. The inner slope of the bank
measured eighty feet. Its circumference at the top is stated by Sir
Richard Hoare to be four thousand four hundred and forty-two
feet. The area thus enclosed exceeds twenty-eight acres. Half-
way up the bank was a sort of terrace walk of great breadth.
Dimensions such as these at once impress us with notions of vastness
and magnificence. But they approach to sublimity when we imagine
a mighty population standing upon this immense circular terrace, and
looking with awe and reverence upon the religious and judicial rites
that were performed within the area. The Roman amphitheatres
are petty things compared with the enormous circle of Abury.
Looking over the hundred columns, the spectators would see, within,
two other circular temples, marked c and d ; of the more northerly
of these double circles some stones of immense size are still stand-
ing. The great central stone of c, more than twenty feet high, was
standing in 1713. In 1720 enough remained decidedly to show
their original formation. The general view (Fig. 25) is a restoration
formed upon the plan (Fig. 26). Upon that plan there are two open-
ings through the bank and ditch, a and b. These are connected with
a peculiarity of Abury, such as is found in no other monument, of
those called Celtic, althougli near Penrith a long avenue of granite
stones formerly existed. At these entrances two lines of upright
stones branched off', each extending for more than a mile. These
avenues are exhibited in the plan (Fig. 27). That running lo the
south and south-east d, from the great temple a, terminated at e, in
an elliptical range of upright stones. It consisted, according to
Stukeley, of two hundred stones. The oval thus terminating this
avenue was placed on a hill called the Hakpen, or Overton Hill.
Crossing this is an old British track-way A. Barrows, dotted on
the plan, are scattered all around. The western avenue c, extending
nearly a mile and a half towards Beckhampton, consisted also of
about two hundred stones, terminating in a single stone. It has
been held that these avenues, running in curved lines, are emblema-
tic of the serpent-worship, one of the most primitive and widely ex-
tended superstitions of the human race. Conjoined with this wor-
ship was the worship of the sun, according to those who hold that
the whole construction of Abury was emblematic of the idolatry
of primitive Druidism. The high ground to the sonth of Abury
within the avenues is indicated upon the plan (Fig. 27.) Upon that
plan is also marked/, a most remarkable monument of the British
period, Silbury Hill, of wliich Sir R. Hoare says, " There can be
no doubt it was one of the component parts of tlie grand temple at
Abury, not a sepulchral mound laised over the bones and ashes of a
king or arch-druid. Its situation, opposite to the temple, and nearly
in the centre between the two avenues, seems in some deo-ree to war-
rant this supposition." The Roman road ft from Bath to London
passes close under Silbury Hill, diverging from the usual straight Ime

Ch.u'. L]

OLD ENGLAND

instead of beinjy cut through this colossal mound. The bird's-eye
view (Fig. 28) exhibits the restoration of Abury and its neigh-
bourhood somewhat more clearly. 1 is tlie circuinvallafed bank, 2
and .S the inner temples, 4 the river Kennet, 5 and (J the avenues,
7 Silbnry lliil, 8 a large barrow, 9 a cromlech.

Sill)iiry Hill (Fig. 32) is the largest artificial mound in Europe.
It is not so large as the mound of Alyattes in Asia Minor, which
Ilerodotns h.is describe<l and a modern traveller has ridden round.
It is of greater dimensions tlian the second pyramid of Egypt.
Stukeley is too ardent in the conlempla(ion of this wonder of his
own land when he says, " I have no scruple to affirm it is the most
magnificent mausoleum in the world, witliout excepting the Egyptian
pyramids." But an artificial hill which covers five acres and
thirty-four perches ; whicli at the circumference of the base mea-
sures two thousand and twenty-seven feel ; whose diameter at top
is one hundred and twenty feet, its sloping height three hundre<i
and sixteen feet, and its perpendicular height one hundred and
seven feet, is indeed a 8tu])endous monument of human labour, of
which the world can show very few such examples. There can
be no doubt whatever that the hill is entirely artificial. The
great earth-works of a modern railway are the results of labour,
assisted by science and stimulated by capital, employing iLsclf for
profit; but Silbnry Hill in .ill likeliiiood was a gigantic effort of
what has been called hero-worship, a labour for no direct or imme-
diate utility, but to preserve the memory of some ruler, or lawgiver,
or warrior, or priest. Multitudes lent their aid in the formation ;
and shouted or wept around it, when it had settled down into solidity
under the dews and winds, and its slo])es were covered witli ever-
springing grass. If it were a component part of the temple at
Abury, it is still to be regarded, even more than the gathering
together of the stone circles and avenues of that temple, as the
work of great masses of the people labouring for some elevating
and heart-stirring purpose. Their worship might be blind, cruel,
guided by crafty men who governed ihem by terror or by delusion.
But these enduring monuments show the existence of some great
and powerful impulses which led the people to achieve mighty
things. There was a higher principle at work amongst them, how-
ever abused and perverted, than that of individual selfishness. The
social principle was built upon some sort of reverence, wliether of
man, or of beings held to preside over the destinies of man.

It requires no antiquarian knowledge to satisfy the observer of
the great remains of Stonehenge and Abury, that they are works
of art, in the strict sense of the word — originating in design, having
proportion of parts, adapted to the institutions of the period to
which they belonged, calculated to affect with awe and wonder the
imagination of the people that a^^sembled around them. But there
are many remarkable groiips of immense stones, and single stones,
in various parts of England, which, however artificial they may
appear, are probably wholly or in part natural pro<!uctions. .Some
of these objects have involved great differences of opinion. For
instance, the Rock of Carnbre, or Karn-brt;, near Tniro, is field by
Borlase, in his ' Antiquities of Cornwall,' to be strewed ail over
with Dniidical remains. He says, " In this hill of Kani-bre, we
find rock-basins, circles, stones erect, remains of cromlechs, cairns,
a grove of oaks, a cave, and an inclosure, not of military, but reli-
gious, structure ; and these are evidences sufficient of its having
been a place of Druid worship ; of which it may be some confirma-
tion, that the town, about half a mile across the brook, which runs
at the bottom of this hill, was anciently called Red-drew, or, more
rightly, Ryd-drew, i. e., the Druid's Ford, or crossing of the brook."

The little castle at the top of the hill is called by Borlase a British
fortress (Fig. 33) ; and in this point some antiquaries are inclined to
agree with him. But they for the most part hold that his notions
of circles, and stones erect, and cromlechs, are altogether visionary ;
and that the remarkable appearances of these rocks are produce<l
by the unassisted operations of nature. It is certain, however, that
about a century ago an immense number of gold coins were dis-
covered on this hill, which bear no traces of Roman art ; and
which, having the forms of something like a horse and a wheel
impressed upon them, Borlase thinks allude to the chariot-fighting
of the British, being coined before the invasion ofCeesar. Davies
in his 'Mythology and Rites of the British Druids,* considers them
to be Dniidical coins ; the supiwsed horse being a mystical com-
bination of a bird, a mare, and a ship, — "a symbol of Ked or
Ceridwen, the Arkite goddess, or Ceres of the Britons." It is
unnecessary for us to pursue these dark and unsatisfactory inquiries.
We mention them to point out how full of doubt and difficulty is
the whole subject of the superstitions of our British ancestors. But
wherever we can find distinct traces of their work, we discover
tomething far above the conceptions of mere barbarians — great

monnmenta originating In the direction of lome ttwier mindu, and
a<lapte<l by them to the habit* and the feelingi of the body of tba
people. The Druidical circles, as we have thovn, •!« not con-
fined to England or Sooiland. On the oppo«iie thoK* of Brittany
the great remains of Camao exhibit a «tructur« of &r grral^r
extent even than Abury. "Carnac !■ infinitely mor* extensive
than Stonehenge, but of ruder formation; the slonea are much
broken, fallen down, anri displaced ; they conoint of eleven rows of
unwrought pieces of rock or stone, merely set up on end in lb«
earth, without any piecet crossing them at top. These stones arc
of great thickness, but not exceeding nine or twelve feet in height ;
there may l)e some few fifteen feet. The mws are placed from
fifteen to eighttHii paces from each other, extending in length (taking
rather a semicircular direction) above half a mile, on unequal
ground, and towards one end upon a hilly site. When the length
of these rows is considered, there must have been nearly three hun-
dred stones in each, and there are eleven rows : this will give you
some idea of the immensity of the work, and the labour »uch a con-
struction rcquire<l. It is sai<l that there are above four thousand
stones now remaining." (Mrs. Slothard's 'Tour in Normandy
and Brittany.') It is ea.sy to understand how the same religion
prevailing in neighbouring countries might produce monuments of
a .'similar character; but we find the same in the fur East, in lands
separated from ours by pathless deserts and wide seas. So it is
with those remarkable stnictures, the Round Towers of Ireland ;
which were considered ancient even in the twelfth century. Many
of these towers are still perfect. They are varied in their con-
struction, and their height is very different ; but they all agree in
their general external appearance, tai>ering from the base to a coni-
cal cap or roof, which forms the summit. They are almost in-
variably found close to an ancient Christian church; which is
accounted for by the fact that the sites of pag^an worship were
usually chosen by the early missionaries for rearing a holier stnic-
ture, which should reclaim the people from their su))crstitious
reverence, to found that reverence upon the truths which were
purifying the lands of classic paganism. The Round Tower ot
Donoughmore (Fig. 35) is one of these singular monuments. " The
only structures that have been anywhere found similar to the Irish
Round Towers are in certain countries of the remote East, and es-
pecially in India and Persia. This would seem to indicate a con-
nexion between these countries and Ireland, the probability of
which, it has been attempted to show, is corroborated by many
other coincidences of language, of religion, and of customs, as well
as by the voice of tradition, and the light, though faint and scattered,
which is thrown upon the subject by the records of history. The
period of the first civilization of Ireland then woulil, under this
view, be placed in the same early age of the world which appear*
to have witnessed, in those Oriental countries, a highly-advanced
condition ,-)f the arts and sciences, as well as flourishing institutions
of religious 9.nd civil polity, which have also, in a similar manner,
decayed and passed away." (' Pictorial History of England.') The
same reasoning may be applie<l to the Druidical circles, of which
the resemblances are as striking, in countries far removed from
any knowledge of the customs of aboriginal Britons.

About seven miles south of Bristol is a small parish calle<I Stanton
Drew. The name is held to mean the Stone Town of the Druid.*.
Stukely was of opinion that the Druidical monument at this place
was more ancient than Abury. The temple is held to have con-
sisted of three circles, a large central circle, and two smaller ones.
Of the larger circle five stones are still remaining ; and of the
smaller ones still more. Stanton Drew was described in 1718, by
Dr. Musgrave, and afterwards by Stukeley. The stones had suffered
great dilapidation in their time ; and the process of breaking them
up for roads has since gone forward with uninterrupted diligence.
They are very rude in their forms, as will be seen by reference to
the engraving (Fig. 34). That marked a is singular in fts nigged-
ness. The stone b inclines towards the north, and its present posi-
tion is supposed to l)e its original one: in its general appearance of
bending forward, it is not unlike the single stone in the avenue at
Stonehenge. The stone c differs greatly from the others, in being
square and massive. The Largest stone, d, is prostrate ; it is fifteen
feet and a half in length. The engraving represenU not the cir-
cular arrangement, but remarkable separate stones, of which eisai a
considerable distance from either of the circles. The largest stones
are much inferior in their dimensions to those at Stonehenge and
Abury. The smaller ones lie scattered about at very irregular
distances ; and it certainly requires a gpreat deal of antiquarian faith
to find the circles which are traced with such infallible certainty by
early and recent writers. It is very different with Abury and
Stonehenge. The country people have their own traditions about

C 2

<i0i0M

iSMIi

\ \>

^fi^fm

3«.— Kll'8 Coly Ucii-c, near AylMfurd, K«ii.

3».— Trevethy Stone.

27. Kit's CWr

-'i^

«_>Hr«eg«yl

ID. OcWnli at Hm StwjM, AoflMcr.

^raasyTSSna*

4M^Wvtmi ■■kk'H Cm.

«!.— ConslaDtlne Tolnttn, OornwaH.

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book 1.

these rtmains. Tliey call tliem, " the wedding ;" liolding that, as
a b.ride and bridegroom were proceeding to their espousals, sur-
rounded by pipers and dancers, tlie wliole party, for « hat crime we
are not informed, were suddenly turned into stone. Tlie theories
of the learned are in some matters almost as difficult to be received
as tlie traditions of the vulgar. King says of the remains of
Stanton Drew, " There are stones cautiously placed nearly on each
side of the meridian, two at the one end for a sort of observer's
index, and two at the otlier, as if designed for leading sites to direct
the eye to certain points in the heavens, equally distant, a little to
the east and west of the south: and so in like manner, two to the
east, and one on the west side for .in index, as if to observe the
rising of certain stars and planets." Superstition, we apprehend,
settles these matters much more easily than science. There were
formerly three huge upright stones near Kennet, not far from
Abury, wliich Dr. Plot held to be British deities. The coiuitrj-
people had a readier explanation of their use : for they called them
from time immemorial ' the Devil's Coits.' They could be play-
tiilngs, it miglit be readily imagined, for no other busy idler. But
the good foiiis of Somersetshire, by a sort of refinement of such
hackneyed traditions, hold that a great stone near Stanton Drew,
now called * Hackell's Coit,' and which formerly weighed thirty
tons, was thrown from a hill about a mile off by a mortal champion,
Sir John Ilautville. It is remarkable, though perhaps natural, that
there is generally some superstitious notion associated with these
raonuments of a dim antiquity. We shall have presently to speak
of the singular erection near Maidstone, called Kit's Coty House.
Near this supposed cromlech are some large stones, scattered about
a ploughed field. A coachman, who was duly impressed with the
claims of Kit's Coty House to notice, told us, as the climax of the
extraordinary things connected with it, that no one had ever been
able to count tlie stones in that field, so that it was impossible to
say what vas their exact number. In the neighbourhood of
Stanton Drew, they have a variation of this belief which does not
"■o quite so far. They simply hold that it is wicked to attempt to
count the stones.

The remains of Drnidical circles are so similar in their character
that a minute description of any other than the most remarkable
would be tedious and uninteresting to the general reader. We
sliall content ourselves, therefore, with pointing out those of chief
importance, which may either recompense the visit of the traveller,
•jr lead the student of British antiquities to more careful inquiries.

Camden, who made an exact survey of Cumberland in 1599,
thus describes a celebrated British monument near Penrith : " At
Little Salkeld there is a circle of stones, seventy-seven in number,
each ten foot liigh : and before these, at the entrance, is a single
one by itself, fifteen foot high. This the common people call Long
Meg, and the rest her daughters; and within the circle are two
heaps of stones, iinder which they say there are dead bodies buried.
And indeed it is probable enough tiiat this has been a monument
erected in memory of some victory." It is Iield by later antiquaries
that Camden was In error In considering this to have been a monu-
ment of some victory, and that it is an undoubted Druidical circle.
It is not of the grandeur of Stoneiienge and Abury, for none of the
stones exceed ten feet in height. Tliere is another circle of stones
within a mile and a half of Keswick. Near that bleak and dreary
region, between Penrith and Kendal, called Shapfells, was, some
thirty years ago, another remarkable Druidical monument ; but
<ipon the inclosure of the parish of Sliap the stones were blown up
by gunpowder, and were converted into rude fences. At Arbelows,
about five miles from Bakewell, in Derbysinre, is a Druidical circle,
wlilch, according to King, " tliere is great reason to think, notwith-
standing its mutilated appearance in its present ruined state, was
once a regular structure very nearly of the same kjnd with that of
Stonehenge." In Oxfordshire, about three miles north-west of
Chipping Norton, are the remains of a circle of small rude stones,
the highest of which is not more than five feet above the ground.
There appears to be little doubt of this circle belonging to tlie early
British period ; though Camden and others hold it to be the monu-
ment of a Danisli victor}'. The description which Camden gives
of these RoIIrich or Rowldrich stones is very curious : " A great
monument of antiquity : a number of vastly large stones placed in
a circular figure, which the country people call RoUe-rich-stones,
and have a common tradition that they were once men and were
turned into stones. They are irregular, and of unequal height,
and by tlie decays of time are grown ragged and very much im-
paired. The highest of them, which lies out of the ring towards the
east, they call The King, because they fancy he should have been
King of England if he could have seen Long Compton, a village
which b within view at a very few steps farther. Five larger

stones, wliicii on one side of the circle are contiguous to one another,
they pretend were knights or horsemen, and the other common
soldiers." About five miles from Aberdeen in Scotland are the
remains of a circle of large stones and smaller stones. At Slennis
in the Orkney Islands a circle is described where some of the stones
are twenty feet high.

The Druidical circles in their uniformity of character present
the indubitable evidence that they were symbolical of the mysteries
of the ))revailing religion of the country. They were essentially
religious edifices. They were probably, at the same time, what the
Icelandic writers call Doom rings, or Circles of Judgment. That
these monuments, in association with religious rites and solemn
decisions, had a deep influence upon the character of our rude
forefathers, we cannot reasonably doubt. They were a bold and
warlike race, an imaginative race, not placing the sole end of ex-
istence in the consumption of the fruits of the earth, but believing
in spiritual relations and future existences. Degrading as their
superstitions might be, and blind their notions of the future, their
belief was not a mere formal and conventional pretence ; it was a
principle operating upon their actions. We have the express testi-
mony of an ancient poet to this effect of the old worship of this
land. Lucan, in a noble passage in the first book of the Pharsalia,
addresses the Druids in the well known lines beginning " Et vos
babaricos." The translation of Rowe is generally quoted : but it
appears to us that the lines are rendered with more strength and
freedom by Kennett, who translated the poetical quotations in
Gibson's edition of Camden's ' Britannia :'

" And you, O Druids, free from noise and arms,
Keiicw'd your barbarous rites and horrid cliarms.
Wliat Gods, what powers in happy mansions dwelL
Or only yon, or all but you can tell.
To secret shades, and unfrequented groves,
From world and cares your peaceful tribe removes.
You teach that souls, eaa'd of their mortal load.
Nor with grim Pluto make their dark abode.
Nor wander in pale troops along the silent flood,
But on new regions cast resume their reign,
Content to govern earthy frames again.
Thus death is nothing but the middle line
Betwixt what lives will come, and what have been.
Happy the people by your charms possess'd !
Nor fate, nor fears, disturb their peaceful breast.
On certain dangers unconcern'd tliey run.
And meet with pleasure what they would not shun ;
Defy death's slighted power, and bravely scorn
To spare a life that will so soon return."

In reading this rtmarkalde tribute to the national courage of our
remote ancestors, let us not forget that this virtue, like all other
great characteristic virtues of a community, was based upon a prin
ciple, and that the principle, whatever might be its errors, rested
upon the disposition of man to believe and to reverence. Those
who would build the superstructure of national virtue upon what
they hold to be the more solid foimdation of self-interest, may, we
conceive, create a restless, turmoiling, turbulent democracy, astute
in all worldly business, eager for all sensual gratifications, exhibit-
ing the glitter of wealth plating over vice and misery; confident
in their superiority ; ignorant of the past, careless of the future ;
but they will raise up no high-minded, generous, self-devoting
people ; no people that will distinguish between liberty and anarchy
no thoughtful, and therefore firm and just, people ; no people that
will produce any great intellectual work, whether in art or in
literature : no people that will even leave such monuments behind
them as the Stonehenge and Abury of the blind and benighted
Druids.

The high road from Rochester to Maidstone presents several of
those ricli and varied prospects which so often in England compen-
sate the traveller for the absence of the grander elements of pic-
turesque beauty. Here, indeed, are no mountains shrouded in mist
or tipped with partial sunlight; but the bold ridges of chalk are
the boundaries of valleys whose fertility displays itself in wood and
pastille, in corn-lands, and scattered villages. If we look to the
north, the broad Medway expands like a vast lake, with an amphi-
theatre of town and hill-fort, which tell at one and the same time
the Iilstory of the different warfare of ancient strength and of
modern science. When we have ascended the highest point of the
ridge, we again see the Medway, an attenuated stream, winding
amidst low banks for many a mile. The hill of chalk is of a sufficient
hiight to wear an aspect of sterility ; it has some of the bleak fea-
tures of a mountain-land. The road lies close under the brow of

Chap. I.]

OLD ENGLAND.

1£

the hill, with a gentle slope to ihtt village of Aylesfurd — an histori-
cal villuge. Not far from tlie [Mjiiit »hero the Aylcslbrd road
intersects the high road is the ruiiiarkuble moiiiimunt called Kit's
Coty House (Fig. 3G). Unlike most inonunicnls of the same high
antiquity, it remuiiis, in all |)r(il>ubility, as originally constructed.
It was described two hundred and fifty years ago by the antiquary
Stow, and the description ia as nearly exact as any that we could
write at the present hour : " I have myself, in company with divers
worshipful and learned gentlemen, beheld it in anno 160U, and it
is of four flat stones, one of tlieni standing upright in the middle of
two others, inclosing the edge sides of the first, and the fourth laid
flat across the other three, and ia of such height that men may
stand on either side the middle stone in time of storm or tempest,
siife from wind and rain, being defended with the breadth of the
stones, having one at their backs on either side, and the fourth
over tiieir heads." In one point the description of Stow does not
agree with what we find at the present day : " About a coit's cast
from this monument lieth another great stone, much part thereof
in the ground, as fallen down where the same had been affixed."
This stone was half buried in 1773, when Mr. Colebrooke described
the monument ; it is now wholly covered up. The demand of a
few square feet for the growth of corn, in a country, with millions
of acres of waste land, would not permit its preservation. Is this
Kit's Coty House something different from other ancient monu-
ments, either in is. site or its structure? Let us see how Camden,
writing at the same period as Stow, describes an erection in Caer-
n:artlien$hire, in the parish of Trelech : "We find a vast rude
ehech, or flat stone somewhat of an oval form, about three yards
in length, five foot over where broadest, and about ten or twelve
nches thick. A gentleman, to satisfy my curiosity, having em-
ployed some labourers to search under it, found it, after removing
much stone, to be the covering of such a barbarous monument as
we call Kist-vaen, or Stone-chest ; which was about four foot and
a half in length, and about three foot broad, but somewhat narrower
at the east than west end. It is made up of seven stones, viz.,
the covering stone already mentioned, and two side stones, one at
each end, and one behind each of these, for the better securing or
bolstering of them ; all equally rude, an<l about the same thickness,
the two last excepted, which are considerably thicker." The
dimensions of Kit's Coty House are thus given in Grose's 'Antiqui-
ties :' " Upright stone on the N. or N.W. side, eight feet high,
eight feet broad, two feet thick ; estimated weight, eight tons and a
half. Upright stone on the S. or S.E. side, eight feet high, seven
and a half feet broad, two feet thick ; estimated weight eight tons.
Upright stone between these, very irregular ; medium dimensions,
five feet high, five feet broad, fourteen inches thick; estimated
weight, about two tons. Upper stone, very irregular, eleven feet
long, eight feet broad, two feet thick ; estimated weight, about ten
tons seven cwt.' Holland, the first translator of Camden's ' Bri-
■ tannia,' gives a description of Kit's Coty House, which includes his
notion, which was also that of Camden, of the original purpose of
this monument. " Catigern, honoured with a stately and solemn
funeral, is thought to have been interred near unto Aylesford,
where under the side of a hill, I saw four huge, rude, hard stones
erected, two for the sides, one transversal in the middest between
them, and the hugest of all, piled and laid over them in manner of
the British monument which is called Stonehenge, but not so arti-
ficially with mortice and tenants." The tradition to which Holland
refers is, that a great battle was fought at Aylesford, between the
Britons commanded by Catigern, the brother of Vortimer, and tiie
Saxon invaders under Ilengist and Horsa : in this battle the Saxons
were routed, but Catigern fell. An earlier writer than Holland,
Lanibarde, in his 'Perambulations of Kent,' 1570, also describes
this monument in the parish of Aylesford as the tomb of Catigern :
" the Britons nevertheless in the moan space followed their victory
(as I said) and returning from the chace, erected to the memory of
Catigern (as I suppose) that monument of four huge and hard
stones, which are yet standing in this parish, pitched upright in the
ground, covered after the manner of Stonage (that famous sepul-
chre of the Britons upon Salisbury Plain), and now termed of the
eomnion people here Citscotehouse." Antiquaries have puzzled
themselves about the name of this Kentish monument. Kit, ac-
cording to Grose, is an abbreviation of Catigern, and Coty is Coity,
coit being a name for a large flat stone ; so that Kit's Coty House
is Catigern's House built with coits. Lanibarde expressly says,
" now termed of the common people here Citscotehouse." The fa-
miliar name has clearly no more to do with the ancient object of
the monument tliati many other common names applied to edifices
belonging to the same remote period. No one thinks, for example,
that the name of ' Long Meg and her daughters,' of which we have

■poken, can be traced bock even to Ui« Saxon petiod. The UiMMy
of the earlier anti(|uarie« that the moamneiiU which we now gta*-
rally call Druidical belong to a period of RriiUb biclory afW iIm
Christian era, and conunemorote great battle* with the SesoM or Um
Danes, is set at rei>t by the existence ofKimilur nionunients in distant
parts of the world ; proving pretty satitfuclorily (hat ilicy all bad a
common origin in some form of religious womldp tliat was widely
diffused amongst races of men whose civil history is shrouded in
almoiit utter darkness. I'alentine bos its houses of coits as well as
England. The fcdlowing description is from the travels of Cap-
tains Irby and Iklongles : " On the banks of tlie Jordan, at the
foot of the mountain, we observed some very stngnlor, interoting,
and certainly very ancient tombs, composed of great rough tltmm,
resembling what ia called Kit's Coty House in Kent. They are
built of two long side stones, with one at each end, and a small
door in front, mostly facing the north : this door was of stone. All
were of rough stones apparently not hewn, but found in flat frag-
ments, many of which are seen about the spot in huge flakes. Ov<>r
tlie whole was laid an immense flat piece, projecting both at the
sides and ends. What reiiderc<l these tombs the more remarkable
Mas, that the interior was not long enough for a body, being only
five feet. This is occasioned by both the front and back stoocs
being considerably within the ends of the side ones. There arc
about twenty-seven of these tombs, very irregularly situated."
These accomplished travellers call these Oriental monuments torabx,
but their interior dimensions would seem to contrailict this notion.
The cause of these narrow dimensions is clearly pointed out; the
front and back stones are considerably within the ends of the side
ones. Kit's Coty House (Figs. 37, 38) has no stone that we can call
a front stone ; it is open ; but the back stone has the same peculiarity
as the Palestine monuments ; it is placed considerably within the
side ones. The side stones lean inwards against the back stone :
whilst the large flat stone at top, finding its own level on the irre-
gular surfaces, holds them all firmly together, without tlie mortice
and tenon which are required by the nicer adjustment of the super-
incumbent stotie upon two uprights at Stonehenge. It is evident
that the mode of construction thus employed has preserved these
stones in their due places for many centuries. The question then
arises, for what purpose was so substantial an edifice erected, hav-
ing a common character with many other monuments in this coun-
try, and not without a striking resemblance to others in a land with
which the ancient Britons can scarcely be supposed to have held
any intercouse? It is maintained that such buildings, called
cromlechs, were erected for the fearful purpose of human sacrifice.
" For here we find in truth a great stone scaffold raised just high
enough for such a horrid exhibition, atid no higher ; and just largo
enough in all its proportions for the purpoae, and not too large, and
so contrived as to render the whole visible to the greatest multitude
of people ; whilst it was so framed and put together, though super-
stitiously constructed only of unhewn stones in imitation of purer
and more primeval usages, that no length of time nor any common
efforts of violence could destroy it or throw it down." This is
King's description of what he believes to have been tlie terrible use
of Kit's Coty House. The situation of this monument certainly
renders it peculiarly fitted for any imposing solemnity, to be per-
formed amidst a great surrounding multitude. But it does appear
to us that a stone scaflbld, so constructed, was of all forms the most
unfitted for the sacrifice of a living victim, to be accomplished by
the violence of surrounding priests. Diodorus says of the Druids
of Gaul, " Pouring out a libation upon a man as a victim, they smite
him with a sword upon the breast in the part near the diaphragm,
and on his falling who has been thus smitten, botli from the manner
of his falling and from the convulsions of his limbs, and still more
from the manner of the flowing of his blood, they presage what will
come to pass." King accommodates Kit's Coty House to this di'scrip
tion ; arguing that the top of the flat stone was a fitting place for
these terrible ceremonies. The notion seems somewhat absurd ; the
extreme dimensions of the top stone are not more tlian eleven feet in
any direction ; a size in itself unsuiled enough for such a display of
physical force. But this narrow stone is also shelving ; it is about
nine feet from the ground in front, and seven feel at the back^
having a fall of two feet in eleven feet. King says, •' And yet
the declivity is not sufh as to occasion the least danger of any
slipping or sliding off." The plain reader may possibly ask what
at any rate is to prevent the victim fdlling off when he receives
the fatal blow ; and wonder how the presage described by Diodorus
is to be collecteil from the manner of his falling, when he must
infallibly slide down at the instant of his fall. We must in Inith
receive the Roman accounts of the sacrificial practices of the
ancient Druids with some suspicion. Civilized communities have

4::.— Harold's StoDes, Xrelecb, MoDmoutbsbire.

46. Kllniarth Backs, u 6<w fr m tlw Suulli-caiit.

,' 47.— The CheMowricg, as seen trotn the Norlh-wwt

<5.— Coronation Chair. Beneath the scat Is the "Stone of Dcs iny.'

43.— Hugh Lloyds Pulpit

44.— Hare Stone, Cornwall.

H.-WrUl n^7

<(!.— Ruts to t CiDgaltM Vnitge.

BO.— Gaulish Hnls.— From the Antonlne Colnrnn.

P.au.

:'^:

01.— rii»n and Section of Chan Costlp.

53.-n»n of ChambiTS on a Farm twelve miles from Ballyhendon.

No. 3.

54.-<Jr(Wiid-pl«n and SacUon of Ok SubtomoMn ClMibw •*

Carrigfalll.

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book L

a natural tendency to exaggerate the horrors of superstitious
observances amongst remote nations tiiat they call barbarous.
The testimony is too strong to admit of a' do-abt tliat human
sacrifice did obtain amongst the ancient Britons ; but it can scarcely
be believed tliat the practice fonned so essential a part of tlieir
worship as to call for the erection of sacrificial altars througliout
the land. Kit's Coty House is by some called a cromlech (or flat
stone resting upon other stones), by wliicli name is now generally
understood an altar of sacrifice; but by others it is called a kist-
vaen (or stone-chest), being, as tliey hold, a sepulchral monument.
The Isle of Anglesey, anciently called Mona, was the great strong-
hold of Dmidism, whilst the Romans had still a disturbed possession
of the country. Tacitus, describing an attack upon Mona, says
tliat the British Druids "held it right to smear their altars with the
blood of their captives, and to consult tlie will of the gods by the
quivering of human Hesh." At Plas Newydd, in the Isle of
Anglesey, are two cromlechs (Fig. 40) ; and it is believed that
these remains confirm the account of Tacitus, and that they were
the altars upon which the victims were sacrificed. Near Liskeard, in
Cornwall, in the parish of St. Clear, is a cromlech called Trevethy
Stone, Trevedi being said to signify in the British language a place
of graves (Fig. 39). In the neighbourhood of Lambourn, in Berk-
shire, are many barrows, and amongst them is found the cromlech
called Wayland Smith (Fig. 42.) The tradition which Scott has
so admirably used in his ' Kenil worth,' that a supernatural smith here
dwelt, who would slioe a traveller's horse for a " consideration," is
one of the many superstitions that belong to these places of doubtful
origin and use, a remnant of the solemn feelings with which they were
once regarded. In Cornwall there are many cromlechs and kist-vaens
described by Borlase. They are numerous in Wales, and some are
found in Ireland. In the county of Louth there is one which bears the
name of the Killing Stone ; and this is held by King to be a decisive
proof of its original use. But, although we may well believe that
the horrid practice of human sacrifice was incidental to the Druidical
worship, we are not to collect from the Roman writers that it con-
stituted the chief part of the Druidical system. It is clear that
there were many high and abstract doctrines taught under that
system ; and that the very temples of the worship were symbolicU
of certain principles of belief. Whether the cromlechs or kist-vaens
were used for sacrifice, it has been thought that the stone-chests, at
least, were symbolical of one of the great traditions of mankind
which was widely diffused ; and which therefore exhibited itself in
the outward forms of sacred places amongst divers nations. The
form of an ark or chest is prevalent in all the ancient religions of
the world. A recent writer says, " On careful deliberation, and
considering that the first tabernacles and constructed temples are
to be taken as commentaries on the stone monuments of more ancient
date, we are disposed to find an analogy between the kist-vaen, or
stone-chest, and the ark, or sacred chest, which we find as the most
holy object in the tabernacle and temple of the Hebrew, as well as
in the Egyptian and some other heathen temples." (Kitto's ' Pales-
tine.') The ark of Noah, the cradle of the post-diluvian races, was
thus symbolized. In this point of view we can understand how the
same form of building shall be found on the banks of the Jordan and
on the banks of the Medway. It is a curious fact that the Bards,
who were the direct successors of the Druids, and who continued to
preserve some of tlieir mysterious and initiatory rites after the
Druidical worship was suppressed by the Romans, have distinct
allusions to the ark, or stone-chest, in which the candidate for
admission to the order underwent a probationary penance. The
famous Welsh bard, Taliesen, gives a remarkable description of this
ceremony, which is thus translated by Davies : " I was first modelled
into the form of a pure man, in the hall of Ceridwen, who subjected
me to penance. Though small within my chest, and modest in my
deportment I was great. A sanctuary carried me above the surface
of the earth. Whilst I was enclosed within its ribs, the sweet Awen
rendered me complete : and my law, without audible language, was
imparted to me by the old giantess, darkly smiling in her wrath ;
but her claim was Hot regretted when she set sail." Davies adds,
" Ceridwen was, what Mr. Bryant pronounces Ceres to have been,
the genius of the ark ; and her mystic rites represented the me-
morials of the deluge."

There are remains of the more ancient times of Britain whose
uses no antiquarian writers have attempted, by the aid of tradition
or imagination, satisfactorily to explain. They are, to a certain
extent, works of art; they exhibit evidences of design; but it would
appear as if the art worked as an adjunct to nature. The object
of the great Druidical monuments, speaking generally, without
reference to their superstitious uses, was to impress the mind with
something like a feeling of the infinite, by the erection of works of

such large proportions that in these after ages we still feel that
they are sublime, without paying respect to the associations which
once surrounded them. So it would appear that tliose who once
governed the popular mind sought to impart a more than natural
grandeur to some grand work of nature, by connecting it with some
eflTort of ingenuity which was under the direction of their rude science.
Such are the remains which have been called Tolmen ; a Tolmaii
being explained to be an immense mass of rock placed aloft on two
subjacent rocks which admit of a free passage between them. Such
is the remarkable remain in the parish of Coustantine in Cornwall :
" It is one vast egg-like stone thirty-three feet in length, eighteen
feet in width, and fourteen feet and a half in thickness, placed on
the points of two natural rocks, so that a man may creep under it."
(Fig. 41.) There appears to be little doubt that this is a work of
art, as far as regards the placing of the huge mass (which is held to
weigh seven hundred and fifty tons), upon the points of its natural
supporters. If the Constantine Tolman be a work of art, it
furnishes a most remarkable example of the skill which the early
inhabitants of England had attained in the application of some
great power, such as the lever, to the aid of man's co-operative
strength. But there are some remains which have the appearance of
works of art, which are probably, nothing but irregular products
of nature, — masses of stone tlirown on a plain surface by some great
convulsion, and wrought into fantastic shapes by agencies of dripping
water and driving wind, wliich in the course of ages work as efl^ectually
in the changes of bodies as the chisel and the hammer. Such is
probably the extraordinary- pile of granite in Cornwall called the
Cheesewring, a mass of eight stones rising to the height of thirty-
two-feet, whose name is derived from the form of an ancient cheese-
press (Fig. 47). It is held, however, that some art may have been
employed in clearing the base from circumjacent stones. Such is
also a remarkable pile upon a lofty range called the Kilmarth Rocks,
which is twenty eight feet in height, and overhangs more than
twelve feet towards the north (Fig. 46.) The group of stones at
Festiniog in Merionethshire, called Hugh Lloyd's pulpit (Fig. 48),
is also a natural production. But there are other remains which
the antiquaries call Logan, or Rocking-stones, in the construction of
which some art appears decidedly to have been exercised.. Corn-
wall is remarkable for these rocking-stones. Whether they were
the productions of art or wholly of nature, the ancient writers
seem to have been impressed with a due sense of the wonder whieli
attached to such curiosities. Pliny tells of a rock near Harpasa
which might be moved with a finger (placed no doubt in a parti-
cular position) but would not stir with a thrust of the whole bodj'.
Ptolemy, with an expression in the highest degree poetical, speaks
of the Gygonian rock, whicli might be stirred with the stalk of an
asphodel, but could not be removed by any force. There is a rock-
ing-stone in Pembrokeshire, which is described in Gibson's edition
of Camden's ' Britannia,' from a manuscript account by Mr. Ow en ;
" This shaking stone may. be seen on a sea-cliflf within lialf a mile of
St. David's. It is so vast that I presume it may exceed the draught
of an hundred oxen, and it is altogether rude and unpolished. Tiie
occasion of the name (Y maen sigl, or the Rocking-stone) is for
that being mounted upon divers other stones about a yard in height
is so equally poised that a man may shake it with one finger so
that five or six men sitting on it shall perceive themselves moved
thereby." There is a stone of this sort at Golcar Hill, near
Halifax in Yorkshire, which mainly lost its rocking power through
the labours of some masons, who, wanting to discover the principle
by which so large a weight was made so easily to move, hewed and
hacked at it until they destroyed its equilibrium. In the same
manner the soldiers in the civil wars rendered the rocking-stone of
Pembrokeshire immoveable after Mr. Owen had described it; but
their object was not quite so laudable as that of the masons who
sought to discover the mystery of the stone of Golcar Hill. Tiie
soldiers upset its equipoise upon the same principle that they broke
painted glass and destroyed monumental brasses ; they held that
it was an encouragement to superstition. In the same way the
soldiers of Cromwell threw down a famous stone called Men-
amber, in the parish of Silhney, in Cornwall, which a little child
miglit move ; and it is recorded that the destruction required im-
mense labour and pains. Some few years ago one of these famous
rocking-stones, on the coast of Cornwall, was upset by a ship's
crew for a freak of their oflicers ; but the people, who had a just
veneration for their antiquities, insisted upon the rocking-stone
being restored to its place : it was restored ; but the trouble and
expense were so serious, that the disturbers went away with a duo
sense of the skill of those who had first poised these mighty
masses, as if to assert tiie permanency of their art, and to show that
all that is gone bi^fore us is not wholly barbarous. It is a curious

LKIbHl-ON ItaOTHBIU

THE CORONATION CHAIR.

ClIAP. I.J

OLD ENGLAND.

fact tliat the tackle which was used for the restoration of thia roclc-
iiig-stoiio, aiul which was applied by military engineers, broke under
the weiglit of the mass which our rude forefathers had set up. The
rocking -Rtones which are found throughout the country are too nu-
merou-i here to bo particularly describe<l. They are in many places
distinctly surrounded by Druidical remains, and have been consi-
dered as adjuncts to the system of divination by which the priest-
tood maintained their influence over the people.

In various parts of England, in Wales, in Ireland, and in the
Western Is'.<mds of Scotland, there are found large single stones,
firmly fixcd in the earth, which have remained in their places from
time immemorial, and which are generally regarded with some sort
of reverence, if not superstition, by the people who live near them.
They are in all likelihood monuments which were erected in
memory of some remarkable event, or of some eminent person.
They have survived their uses. Written memorials alone shine with
a faint light through the darkness of early ages. The associations
that once made these memorials of stone solemn things no longer
surround them. AVIicn .Tack Cade struck his sword upon Tx)ndon
Stone, the act was meant to give a solemn assurance to the people
of his rude fidelity. The stone still stands; and we now look upon
it simply with curiosity, as one of the few remains of Roman Lon-
don. Some hold that it had "a more ancient and peculiar desig-
nation than that of having been a Roman Milliary, even if it ever
were used for that purpose afterwards. It was fixed deep in the
ground; and is mentioned so early as the time of jEthelstan, king
of the West Saxons, without any particular reference to its having
been considered as a Roman Milliary stone." (King.) If this
stone, which few indeed of the busy throngs of Cannon-street cast
a look upon, were only a boundary-stone, such stones were held as
sacred things even in the times of the patriarchs : " And Laban
said to Jacob, Behold this heap and behold this pillar, which .1
have cast betwixt me and thee; this heap be witness, and this pillar
be witness, that I will not pass over this heap to thee, and that
thou shalt not pass over this heap and this pillar unto me, for harm."
(Genesis, c. xxxi., v. 51, 52.) In the parish of Sancred, in Corn-
wall, is a remarkable stone called the Hare Stone (hare or hoar
meaning literally border or boundary), with a heap of stones lying
around it (Fig. 44). It is held that these stones are precisely simi-
lar to the heap and the pillar which were collected and .set up at
the covenant between Jacob and Laban, recorded in the Scriptures
with such interesting minuteness. It is stated .by Rowland, the
author of ' Mona Antiqua,' that wherever there Jire heaps of stones
of great apparent antiquity, stone pillars are also found near them.
This is probably too strong an assertion ; but the existence of such
memorials, which. King says, " are, like the pyramids of Egypt,
records of the highest antiquity in a dead language," compared
with tlie clear descriptions of them in the sacred writings, leaves
little doubt of the universality of the principle which led to their
erection. A heap of stones and a single pillar was not, however, the
only form of these stones of memorial. At Trelech, in Monmouth-
shire, are three remarkable stones, one of which is fourteen feet
above the ground, and which evidently formed no part of any
Druidical circle. These are called Harold's Stones (Fig. 43).
Near Boroughbridge, in Yorkshire, are some remarkable stones of
similar character, called the Devil's Arrows. The magnitude of
these stones of memorial was probably sometimes regulated by the
importance of the event which they were intended to celebrate ; but
their sacred character in many cases did not depend upon their size,
and their form is sometimes unsuited to the notion that they were
boundary stones, or even monumental pillars. The celebrated stone
which now forms the seat of the coronation chair of the sovereigns
of England is a flat stone, nearly square. It formerly stood in
Argj'leshirc, according to Buchanan ; who also says that King Ken-
neth, in the ninth century, transferred it to Scone, and enclosed it
in a wooden chair. The monkish tradition was, that it was the
identical stone wliich formed Jacob's pillow. The more credible
legend of Scotland is, that it was the ancient inauguration-stone of
the kings of Ireland. " This fatal stone was said to have been
brought from Ireland by Fergus, the son of Eric, who led the
Dalriads to the shores of Argleshire. Its virtues are preserved in
the celebrated leonine verse : — -

Ni fiiUat fatnm, Sooti, quocunquc localuni
luveriient lapidiMU, rcgnare tenentur ibijeni.

Wliich may bo rendered thus : —

T'nlcss the F.ttcs nre faitlilpss fouiul,

Ami Prophet's voice l>e vain.
Where'er this monument be found

The Scottish race shall reign."

Sir Walter Scott, in bit gnuseftil iiyle, glvM lu tbi« venkm of bU
country's legend. The stone, m ibe yoongert i«wler of Englwb
history knows, wiu removed io Wertminiter from Scone, by
Edward I. ; and here it remalnii, u an old antiquarian has detcribed
it, " the ancientest reapected monument in (be world ; for, allbougii
Bome others may be more ancient aa to duration, yrt tbut tuper
slitiously regarded are they not" (Kig. 43.) Tbe antiquity ofikia
stone is undoubted, however it may be quottionod wbeibar it be Um
same Ktone on which the ancient king* of Irehuid w«r«. inaagnntod
on the hill of Tara. This tradition i* a little shaken by tbe jket
that stone of the same quality is not uncommon in Seotkud. Tb«
history of its removal from .Scone by Eilward I. admiu of no doubC
A record exisU of the expenwa attending iu removal ; and this is
the best evidence of the reverence which attached to this rude seat
of the ancient kings of Scotland, who, standing on it in the light of
assembled thousan<ls, had sworn to reverence the laws, and to do
justice to the people.*

Of the domestic buildings of the early Britons there are no
remaiai, if we except some circular stone foundations, which mav
have been those of hou.se». It is concluded, perhaps somewhat too
hastily, that their houses were little better tlian the buta of the
rude tribes of Africa or Asia in our own day (Fig. 49). In the
neighbourhood of Llandaff were, in King's time, several modern
pig-sties, of a peculiar construction ; and he held that the form of
these was derived from the dwellings of the ancient Britons (Fig.
55). This form certainly agrees with the description which .Strabo
gives of the houses of the Gauls, which he said were constructed of
poles and wattled work, of a circular form, and with a loAy taper-
ing roof. On the Antoninc column we liavc representations of the
Gauls and the Gaulish houses, but here the roofs are for the mo-t
part with domes (Fig. 50). Strabo further says, "The foreaU
of the Britons are their cities ; for, when they have encloaed a
ver)' large circuit with felled trees, they build within it hooica
for themselves and hovels for their cattle. These buildings ai«
very slight, and not designed for long duration." Caeaar aaya,
" What the Britons call a town is a tract of woody country, aur-
ronnded by a vallum and a ditch, for the security of themaeWea and
cattle against the incursions of their enemies." The towns within
woods were thus fortresses ; and here the Druidical worship in tbe
broad glades, surrounded by mighty oaks, which were their natural
antiquities, was cultivated amidst knots of men, held together by
common wants as regarded the present life, and common hopea
with reference to the future (Fig. 56). A single bank and ditch,
agreeing with Cffisar's description, is found in several parts of the
island. There is such an entrenchment in the parish of Cellan,
Cardiganshire, called Caer Morus. We shall presently have to
speak of the ramparted camps, undoubtedly British, which are found
on commanding hills, exhibiting a skill in the military art to which
Ca»ar bore testimony, when he described tlie capital of Cassivel-
launus as admirably defended both by nature and art. But we here
insert a description of Chtm Castle, in Cornwall, to furnish a proof
that the skill of the ancient Britons in building displayed itself in
more important works than their wattled huts : " It consists of two
circular walls, having a terrace thirty feet wide between (Fig.
51). The wails are built of rough masses of granite of various
sizes, some five or six feet long, fitted together, and piled up without
cement, but presenting a regular and tolerably smooth surface on
the outside. The outer wail was surroimded by a ditch nineteen
feet in width : part of this wall in one place is ten feet hi<5h, and
about five feet thick. Borlase is. of opinion that the inner wall must
have been at least fifteen feet high ; it is about twelve feet thick.
The only entrance was towards the south-west, and exhibits in its
arrangement a surprising degree of skill and military knowledge for
the time at which it is supposed to have been constructed. It is six
feet wide in the narrowest part, and sixteen in the widest, where the
walls diverge, and are rounded oflT on either side. There also ap-
pear indications of steps, up to the level of the area within the
castle, and the remains of a wall which, crossing the terrace from the
outer wall, divided the entrance into two parts at its widest end.
The inner wall of the castle incloses an area measuring one hundred
and seventy-five feet north and south, by one hundred and eighty
feet east and west. The centre is without any indication of build-
ings ; but all aroimd, and next to the wall, are the remains of cir»
cular inclosures, supposed to have formed the habitable parts of the

* The Coronation Cliair, the seat of which rests upon this stone of deatiny,
is also represenfcfl in the i7/«minn«rtf MHTrarim; wliich accompanies tliis portion
of onr work. It is n fnc-similc of n his^hlT-fiiiighnl architrctnral drawing, and
is printed in oil colours from twelve separate plates, so miitcd in the printing
as to produce a separate outline, ami to give all the rarioos tints of the original.

1> 2

Foreshortened View ihcwing ibe end.
r,V.— Anciett Brltuh Canoes— Fotnd »t Norm StoKe. Sussex.

«0.— WoaJ. (laato Tinctoria.)

„ r, . , , 59.— British Pearl Shells. Natural size

a Duck frc5U- water vearl Mussel (Anodon Anatinusl. i.. Swan ditto (Anodon Cygneus'.

C2,— Gaulish Costume.

63.— Gaulish Costim?.

«t.— Sblt-U In ttao Mi^rick ColloctiaD.

*T.— CtrciUar OrlUab SU;:i.

«.- «>iM4 Ir ib> onwb

CI.— Bcmalos of a Briti>b Broast-pUta, found at Mold.

'^^WR'

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book 1,

castle. They are generally about eighteen or twenty feet in dia-
meter, but at the northern side there is a large apartment thirty by
twenty." (' Pictorial History of England.')

That the Britons were agriculturists, using the term m a larger
sense than applies to the cultivation of small patches of land by
solitary individuals, we may reasonably infer from some remarkable
remains that are not uncommon in these islands. Tacitus, in liis
account of the manners of the Germans, says, " the Germans were
accustomed to dig subterraneous caverns, and then to cover them
with much loose mould, forming a refuge from wintry storms, and
a recepticle for the fruits of the earth : in this manner the rigour
of the frost is softened." Tacitus also says that tliese caverns are
liiding-places for the people upon the irruption of an enemy. Such
pits were commofi to the ancient people of tlie East, and are found
in modern times in other European countries. Tliere is a singular
cavern of tliis sort at Royston, in Hertfordshire, which was dis-
covered in tlie market-place of that town in 1742. Kent has
several such pits. Hasted, the topograplier of that country, describes
many such in the iieaths and fields and woods near Crayford. He
says that at tlie mouth, and thence downward, they are narrow,
like the tunnel or. passage of a well ; but at the bottom they are
large and of great compass, so that some of them have several
rooms, one within another, strongly vaulted, and supported with
pillars of clialk, Camden has given a rude representation of two
caverns near Tilbury in Essex, "spacious caverns in a chalky cliff,
built very artificially of stone to the height of ten fathoms, and
somewhat straight at the top. A person who had been down to
view them gave me a description of them." The chambers in the
caverns, which Camden depicts, consist either of a large space,
with semicircular recesses, or of two chambers, eacli with three
semicircular recesses connected by a passage. The universality
of the practice is shown in the caves which were discovered in
Ireland, in 1829, which are described in the 'Transactions of the
Antiquarian Society of London,' vol. xxiii. (Figs. 52, 53, and 54.)
There can be little doubt of the use of such caves. Diodorus
Siculus expressly says that the Britons laid up their corn in subter-
ranean repositories. There are other remarkable remains whose
purposes do not seem quite so clear. These are artificial pits of a
conicul form. At the top of the Combe Hills, near Croydon, in
Surrey, is a pit of this sort, minutely described by King. An early
antiquarian, John Leland — who peregrinated England and Wales in
the time of Henry VIII., and whose descriptions, whenever he
entered into detail, are so curious that we sigh over his usual brevity,
and wish that he were as prolix as the travellers of our own age —
thus described similar pits near Caernarvon : " There be a great
number of pits made with hand, large like a bowl at the head, and
narrow in the bottom, overgrown in the swart with fine grass, and
be scattered here and there about the quarters where the head of
Kenner river is, that commeth by Caire Kenner. And some of these
will receive a hundred men, some two liundred. They be in the
Black Mountain." ('Itinerary,' vol. viii. folio 107, a.)

Of a later period than that to which we are referring are pro-
bably the very singular caves of Hawthornden. Beneath the rock on
which Drummond and Jonson sat, looking out upon the delicious
glen whose exquisite beauties would srem the natural abodes of
neacefulness and innocence, are the hiding-places of remote genera-
tions. Long galleries and dreary caverns cut in tlie rock, are
peopled by tradition with tlie brave and tlie oppressed liiding from
their enemies. Here we are shown the king's bedchamber ; and
another cave, whose walls are cut into small recesses of about a
foot square, was the king's drawing-room. He was here surrounded
by ample conveniences for arranging the petty treasures of his
solitude. Setting these traditions aside, we may reasonably conclude
that the caves of Hawthornden were at once hiding-places and store-
houses : and it is not carrying our fancies too far to believe that the
shelved cavities of the rock were receptacles for food, in small por-
tions — the oatmeal and the pulse that were thus preserved from
worms and mildew.

The primitive inhabitants of all sea-girt countries are fishermen.
It is impossible not to believe that the people of Britain, having at
tlieir command tlie treasures of wide sestuaries and deep rivers, were
fishermen to a large extent. The Britons must always have been a
people who were familiar with the waters. The Severn and the
Wye have still their coracles. Little boats so peculiar in their con-
struction that we may readily conceive them to belong to a remote
antiquity. Gibson, the translator and best editor of Camden, has
described these boats upon the Severn : " The fishermen in these
parts use a small thing called a coracle, in which one man being
seated will row himself vyith incredible swiftness with one hand,
while with the other he manages his net, angle, or other fishing-

tackle. It is of a form almost oval, made of split sally-twigs inter-
woven (willow-twigs), round at the bottom, and on that part wliich
is next the water it is covered with a horse-hide. It is about five
feet in length and three in breadth, and is so light that, coming ofl
the water, they take them upon their backs and carry them home."
Such, we may conclude, were the fishing-boats of our primitive
ancestors (Fig 58). Some of the Roman writers might lead lis
to believe that the Britons had boats capable of distant navigation ;
but this is doubted by most careful inquirers. But the light boats
which were peculiar to the island were certainly of a construction
well suited to their objects ; for Cajsar, in his history of the Civil
War, tells us that he had learnt their use in Britain, and availed
himself of boats of a similar formation in crossing rivers in Spain.
These were probably canoes, hollowed out of a single tree. Such
have been found, from seven to eight feet long, in morasses and in
the beds of rivers, at very distant parts of the country — in Dum-
fries and in the marshes of the Med way. In 1834 a boat of this
description was discovered in a creek of the river Arun, in the vil-
lage of North Stoke, Sussex (Fig. 57). In draining the Martine
Mere, or Marton lake, in Lancasliire, eight canoes, each formed of
a single tree, were found sunk deep in the mud and sand. The
pearl-fishery of Britain must have existed before the Roman
invasion, for Suetonius says that the hope of acquiring pearls was a
main inducement to Csesar to attempt the conquest of the country.
The great conqueror himself, according to Pliny, the naturalist,
dedicated to Venus a breast-plate studded with British pearls, and
suspended it in her temple at Rome. In a later age the pearls of
Caledonia were poetically termed by Ausonius the white sheil-
berries. Camden thus describes the pearls of the little river Irt in
Cumberland : " In this brook the shell-fish, eagerly sucking in the
dew, conceive and bring forth pearls, or, to use the poet's words,
shell-berries. Tliese the inhabitants gather up at low water ; and
the jewellers buy them of the poor people for a trifle, but sell them
at a good price. Of these, and such like, Marbodaeus seems to
speak in that verse,

' Gignit et insignes antiqua Britannia baecas.'
(' And Britain's ancient shores great pearls produce.*)"

The British pearls were not found in the shells of the oyster, as is
often thought, but in those of a peculiar species of mussel (Fig. 59).
The oysters of Britain, celebrated by Pliny and Juvenal after the
Roman conquest, contributed, we may reasonably suppose, to the
food of the primitive inhabitants.

The dresses of the inhabitants of Britain before the Roman inva-
sion are not, like those of the people of ancient Egypt, and other
countries advanced in the practice of the imitative arts, to be traced
in painting or sculpture. In Roman statues we have the figures of
ancient Gauls, which give us the characteristic dress of the Celtic
nations : the braccee, or close trowsers, the tunic, and the sagum, or
short cloak (Figs. Gl, 62, 63). The dye of the woad was proba-
bly used for this cloth, as it was to colour the skins of the warriors
stripped for battle (Fig. GO). It is difficult to assign an exact
period to their use of cloth in preference to skins. It is equally
diflficult to determine the date of those valuable relics which have
been found in various places, exhibiting a taste of symmetry and
nice workmanship in the fabrication of their weapons, offensive and
defensive, and the ruder decorations of their persons. Such are the
remains of a golden breast-plate found at Mold, in Flintshire now
in the British Museum (Fig. 64). Such are the shields (Figs. 65,
66, C7), of one of which (Fig. 67) Sir Samuel Meyrick, its
possessor, says, " It is impossible to contemplate the artistic portions
without feeling convinced that there is a mixture of British orna-
ments with such resemblances to the elegant designs on Roman works
as would be produced by a people in a state of less civilization."
Torques, or gold and bronze necklaces composed of flexible bars, were
peculiar to the people of this country. Of all these matters we
shall have further to speak in the next chapter — the Roman Period.
There also we may more properly notice the great variety of British
coins, of which we here present a group (Fig. 68). Ring-money,
peculiar to the Celtic nations, undoubtedly existed in Ireland previous
to the domination of the Romans in Britain. Although Caesar says
that the ancient Britons had no coined money, there is sufficient
probability that they had their metal plates for purposes of currency,
such being occasionally found in English barrows. The Ring-
money (Fig. 69) has been found in great qnantities in Ireland, of
bronze, of silver, and of gold. The rings vary in weight ; but they
are all exact multiples of a standard unit, showing that a uniform
principle regulated their size, and that this was determined by
their use as current coin. The weapons of the ancient Britons
show their acquaintance with the casting of metals. Their axe-

C'UAH. I.]

OLD ENGLAND

heads, called Colts, are composed of ten parts of copper and one of

tin (Fijjs. 70 and 71) ; tlieir spear-heads, of six parU of co|)i)er and
one of tin. Moulds for spear-head.'* have been frequently found in
Britain and Ireland (Figs. 72 and 73).

There are no reinain.s of those terrible war-chariots of the Britons
which CiBsar describes as striking terror into hit legions. King,
who labours very hard toi)rovethat the people who stood up not only
with undaunted courage, but military skill, against the conqueror*
of tlie world, were but painted savages, considers that the British
war-chariot was essentially the same as the little low cart which the
Welsh used in his day for agricultural purposes (Fig. 74). The
painters have endeavoured to realize, the accounts of the Roman
writers, with more of poetry, and, we believe, with more of truth
(Fig. 75).

But if the chariots have perished, — if the spears and the axe-
heads are doubtful memorials of the warlike genius of the people, —
not so are the mighty earth-works which still attest that they
defendeil tiiemselves against their enemies upon a system which
bespeaks their skill as well as their valour. The ramiiarted hill
of Old Suruin, with terrace upon terrace ri.sing upon its banks and
ditche.^, and commanding the country for miles around, is. held not
merely to have been a Roman station, or a British station after the
Romans, but a fortified place of the people of the country, even in
the time of the great Druidical monmnents which are found scattered
over the great plain where this proud hill still stands in its ancient
majesty. The Roman walls, the Saxon Towers, the Norman cathe-
dral which have successively crowned this hill, have perished, but
here it remains, with all the peculiar character of a British fortress
still impressed upon it (Fig. 23). Such a fortress is the Hereford-
shire beacon (Fig. 76), which forms the summit of one of the highest
of the Malvern hills, and looks down upon that glorious valley of
the Severn which, perhaps more than any other landscape, proclaims
the surpassing fertility of ' Old England.' Such is in all likelihood
the castellated hill near Wooler, in Northumberland, which rises
two thousand feet above the adjacent plain, with its stone walls, and
ditches and crumbling cairns. It was in these hill-forts that the
Britons so long defied the Roman power ; and one of them (near
the confluence of the Coin and Tenie, in Shropshire) is still sig-
nalised by the name of one of the bravest of those who fought for
the independence of their country— Caer-Caradoc, the castle of
Caractacus (Fig. 77). The Catter-thuns of Angus (Forfarshire)
are amongst the most remarkable of the CaUdonian strongholds.
They are thus described by Pennant, in his 'Tour in Scotland:'—
"After riding two miles on black and heathy hills, we a-^cended
one divided into two summits ; the higher named the White, the
lower the Black Catter-thun, from their different colour. Both are
Caledonian posts ; and the first of most uncommon strength. It is
of an oval form, made of a stupendous dike of loose white stones,
whose convexity, from the base within to that without, is a hundred
and twenty-two feet. On the outside, a hollow, made by the dispo-
sition of the stones, surrounds the whole. Round the base is a deep
ditch, and below that, about a hundred yards, are vestiges of another
that went round the hill. The area within the stony mound is flat ;
the greater axis or length of the oval is four hundred and thirty-
six feet ; the transverse diameter, two hundred. Near the east side
is the foundation of a rectangular building ; and on most parts are
the foundations of others small and circular ; all which had once
their superstructures, the shelter of the possessors of the post.
There is also a hollow, now almost filled with stones, the well of the
place. The literal translation of the word Catter-thun is Camp-
town." The vitrified forts of Scotland are to mysterious in their
origin and tlieir uses, some holding them to be natural volcanic
pro°ductions, others artificial buildings of earth, made solid by the
application of fire, without cement, that we may safely omit them
in this notice of the British period.

In speaking of those ancient works in these islands which were
constructed upon a large scale for the defence of the country and
for the accommodation of the people, it is difficult to define the
precise share of the ancient Britons in their construction, as com-
pared with the labours of successive occupants of the country. Old
Sarum, for example, has the characteristics of a work essentially
different from the camps and castles of Roman origin. But the
Romans, too wise a people to be destroyers, would naturally improve
the old defences of the island, and adapt them to their own notions
of military science. So, we imagine, it would have been with what
we are accustomed to call the four great Roman Ways. The old
chroniclers record that King Dunw.illo (called also Moliuncius or
Mulmutius) " began the four highways of Britain, the which were
finished and perfited of Belinis his son." This is the Mulmutius
whose civilizing deeds are thus lescribed by Spenser : —

"Than nuwla b« Mier«il Uws, whirk toaa mea nf

W«r« onto him r<iT««l'tl in viaiun ;

Uy which ho freed the travfller* UigUvuj,

The Cliureh't part, ami pluu^liuwu < |K>rli>< <,

Itt.'i>tniiDiii){ atvultii uiiil atruug exUiiUuu ;

The f^ratioiu Nuuut of Ijriat Uriloiny :

Fur, till Ilia (Ittjri, tb« obivf Juioiiiiun

Uy iitrcngtU woi wlaUed without policy :
Therufore be fint wore crvwu of goUl for diguity."

Camdi-n, w ho naturully enough ha< a di«|>o«ition, from lite luture o(
his learning, to hold that the civilization of Britain began from tb«
lioman conquest, laughs to scorn the notion of the great liigliwajrt
being made before the Rouians : — " Some imagine tliat tbcM way*
were made by one Mulmutiuj*, God knows who, many agMlwfiN* Um
birth of Christ ; but this is so fur from fuiding credit with ma, UhU
I positively affirm they were made from time to time by the Romuis.
When Agricula was Lieutenant here, Tacitus lelU us, that 'Um
people were commanded to carry their corn about, and into the most
distant countries: not to the nearest camps, but to tlio«e that wera
far off' and out of the way.' And the Britons (as the same autlior
has it) complained, ' tlut the Romans put their liaiids and bodies to the
drudgery of clearing woods and paving fens, with stripes and indig-
nities to boot." And we find in old records, ' In ihedaysof Ilonorius
and Arcadius, there were nude in Britain certain highways from
sea to sea.' That they were the work of the Romans, Bede himself
tell us: "The Romans lived within tluit wall (which, as I have
already observed, Sevcrus drew across the island) to the southward ;
as the cities, temples, bridges and highnays made there, do plainly
testify at this day.' " But in these quotations there is nothing to
prove that there were not roads in Britain before the Romans. That
the more ancient roads were not the magnificent works which the
Romanj afterwanis constructed we may well believe ; but, on the
other hand, it is impossible to imagine that a people accustomed to
military movement* were without roads. The local i-ircumatances
also belonging to the great Druidical monuments, sucii as Sionebengs
and Abury, indicate with sufficient clearness that they were not
solely constructed with reference to the habits of a stationary popu-
lation, but that they were centres to which great bodie of the
people resorted at particular seasons of solemnity. We may take,
therefore, the statements of the old chroniclers wllh regard to the
more ancient and important of tlic highways as not wholly fabulous.
Robert of Gloucester, in his rude rhyme, has told us as much as ia
necessary here to say about them : —

" Fuire weycs many on ther hen in Englonde ;
But four most of all tlicr bcu I uudiTstondc,
That timrgh an old kynge were iniulc ere thi*.
As men schal in this bokc aftir liore till I wis.
From the South into the North tukith Krmingc-slrcte.
Fram the East into tlie West goeth IkeneM-atrvlc.
From South-est to North-west, that is »um del gretc,
Fram Dover into Chcstre goeth Wutlyng-rtrcte.
Tho fcrth of tbise is most of olle that tilletk from Tatencrs.
Fram tho South-west to North-est into Euglondcs cnJe
Frjsse men callitli thilke wey that by mony town doth wende.
Thise four weycs on this londe kyng BcUn the wise
Made and ordeined hem with gret frauncliise."

We have thus hastily presented a sketch, imfjerfect in the details,
but not without its impressiveness if regarded as exhibiting the
solemn picture of man struggling to comprehend the lu.lnite through
clouds and darkness— we have thus attempted to group the memo-
rials of ages which preceded the Roman domination in ' Old Eng-
land.' We look back upon these earliest records of a past state of
society with wonder not unmixed with awe, with shuddering but
not with hatred : —

" Yet shall it claim our rcrerenec, that to GoJ,
Ancient of Days ! that to the eternal Sire
These jealous ministers of law aspire.
As to the one sole fount whence wiadom flow'd.
Justice, anil Order. Tremblingly escaped.
As if with prescience of the coming etorm.
That intimation when the stars were ohapctl :
And still, 'mid yon thick wooiis, the primal UulU
Glimmers through many a siiperstitioiis form
That fills the soul with uuaisiiliug rutlu"

WoHDSWOBTH.

to.— CclS.

?C.— The Herefordshire Beacon.

J2.— Spear-Mould.

71 .—Celt.

7?— British Camp at Caer-Caradoc.— From Roy's Milikiry Antiquities.

'3.— Spear as It would navo coco
from the Mould.

14, — Welsh AgriaiKural Cart.

80.— British and Ronun Wuponi.

85. — Iloman Kagle.

*l.-OifU«*««rti«to

T*.-8jrmiiali o( Koa*.

86.— Pnw oC* Raoan Oallr^.

87. — Ottantry near Dover.

SS.— Oovw OUh,

et— Jallm Cauar. From a Copper Coin In Um BritUh Mueom.

83.- Romaa General, Sttodard-BMren. kc

A.—! A

No. 4.

OLD ENGLAND.

rB<K*K I-

CHAPTER IL— THE ROMAN PERIOD.

^^^ HE inland part of Britain,
J%3. s'^y* Cajsar, " is inhabited by
[^^ those who, according to tlie
^K existing tradition, were tlie
aborigines of the island; the
fi sea-coast, by those who, for
i the sake of plunder or in
order to make war, had cross-
ed over from among the
Belgse, and in almost every
case retained the names of

their native states from which

a^ ^^B they emigrated to this island,

te^^^^ "S"" in which they made war and

settled, and begun to till the

land. The population is very

great, and the buildings very numerous, closely resembling those

of the Gauls : the quantity of cattle is considerable. .....

The island is of a triangular form, one side of the triangle being
opposite Gaul. One of the angles of this side, which is in Cantium
(Kent), to which nearly all vessels from Giu.1 come, looks toward

the rising sun ; the lower angle looks towards the soutii Of

all the natives, those who inhabit Cantium, a district the whole of
which is near the coast, are by far the most civilized, and do not
differ much in tlieir customs from the Gauls." With these more
civilized people Ca;sar negotiated. They had sent him ambassadors
and hostages to avert the invasion which they apprehended ; but
their submission was fruitless. In the latter part of the summer of
the year 55 b.c. (Halley, the astronomer, has gone far to prove that
the exact day was the "26th of August), a Roman fleet crossed the
Chaimel, bearing the infantry of two legions, about ten thousand
men. This army was collected at the Portus Ilius (Witsand), be-
tween Calais and Boulogne. Eighty galleys (Fig. 86) bore the
invaders across the narrow seas. As they neared the white cliffs
which frowned upon their enterprise (Figs. 87, 88, 90), Ca;sar
beheld them covered with armed natives, ready to dispute his land-
ing. The laurelled conqueror (Figs. 83, 84), who, according to
Suetonius, only experienced three reverses during nine years' com-
mand in Gaul, would not risk the Roman discipline against the
British courage, on a coast thus girt with natural defences. It is
held that the proper interpretation of his own narrative is, that lie
proceeded towards the north ; and it is considered by most autho-
rities that the flat beach between Walmer Castle and Sandwich
was the place of his disembarkation. It was here, then, that the
British and Roman weapons first came into conflict (Fig. 80).
But the captains and the standard-bearers marched not deliberately
to the shore, as they are represented on the Column of Trajan
(Fig. 82). The cavalry and the war-chariots of the active Britons
met" the invader on the beach : and whilst the soldiers hesitated to
leave the ships, the standard-bearer of the tenth legion leaped into
the water, exclaiming, as Ceesar has recorded, " Follow me, my
fellow-soldiers, unless you will give up your eagle to the enemy :
I, at least, will do my duty to the republic and to our general !"
(Fig. 85.) The Romans made good their landing. The symbols
of the great republic were henceforward to become more familiar
to the skin-clothed and painted Britons (Fig. 79) ; but not as yet
were they to be bound with the chain of the captive (Fig. 81). The
galleys in which the cavalry of Caesar were approaching the British
shores were scattered by a storm. This calamity, and his imperfect
acquaintance with the country and with the coast, determmed the
invader to winter in Gaul. It is a remarkable fact that Caesar was
ignorant of the height to which the tide rises in these narrow seas.
A heavy spring-tide came, and his transports, which lay at anchor,
were dashed to pieces, and his lighter galleys (Figs. 93, 94, 95),
drawn up on the beach, were swamped with the rising waves. This
second disaster occurred within a few hours of tlie conclusion of a
peace between the invader and the invaded. That very night, ac-
cording to Csesar, it happened to be full moon, when the tides

always rise highest — "a fact at the time wholly unknown to the
Romans." The Britons, with a breach of confidence that may al-
most be justified in the case of the irruption of a foreign power into
a peaceful land, broke the treaty. Caesar writes that they were
signally defeated. But the invader hastily repaired his ships ; and
set sail, even without his hostages, for the opposite shores, where hi*
power was better established.

Caesar, early in the next year, returned to a conflict with the
people whose coast " looks towards the rising sun." He came in a
fleet of eight hundred vessels ; and the natives, either in terror or
in policy, left him to land without opposition. The flat shores of
Kent again received his legions ; and he marched rapidly into the
country, till he met a formidable enemy in those whom lie had
described as " the inland people," who " for the most part do not
sow corn, but live on milk and flesh, and have their clothing of
skins." Caesar himself bears the most unequivocal testimony to the
indomitable courage of this people. The tribes with whom Cassar
came into conflict were, as described by him, the people of Cantium,
inhabitants of Kent ; the Trinobantes, inhabitants of Essex ; the
Cenimagni, inhabitants of Norfolk, Suffolk, and Cambridge ; the
Segontiaci, inhabitants of parts of Hants and Berks ; the Ancalites,
inhabitants of parts of Berks and Wilts ; the Briboci, inhabitants
of parts of Berks and the adjacent counties ; the Cassi, conjectured
to be the inhabitants of Cassio hundred, Herts.* Caesar, after va-
rious fortune, carried back his soldiers in the same year to Gaul.
He set sail by night, in fear, he says, of the equinoctial gales. He
left no body of men behind him ; he erected no fortress. It is pro-
bable that he took back captives to adorn his triumph. But the
Romans, with all their national pride, did not in a succeeding age
hold Cffisar's expedition to be a conquest. Tacitus says that he did
not conquer Britain, but only showed it to the llonians. Horace,
calling upon Augustus to achieve the conquest, speaks of Britain as
" intactus," (untouched) ; and Propertius, in the same spirit, de-
scribes her as " invictus," (unconquered). There is, perhaps, there-
fore, little of exaggeration in the lines which Shakspere puts into
the mouth of the Queen in ' Cymbeline :*

Remember, Sir, my liege,
The kings your ancestors ; together with
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters ;
With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats.
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest
Caisar made here ; but made not here his brag
Of came, and saw, and overcame : with shame
(The first tbat ever touch'd him) he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten ; and liis shipping
(Poor ignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas,
liike egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks.
We have thus narrated very briefly the two descents of Caesar
upon Britain; because, from the nature of his inroad into the
country no monuments exist or could have existed to attest his
progress. But it is not so with the subsequent periods of Roman
dominion. The great military power of the ancient world may be
here traced by what is left of its arms and its arts. Camden has
well described the durable memorials of the Roman sway : " The
Romans, by planting their colonies here, and reducing the natives
under the rules of civil government — by instructing them in the
liberal arts, and sending them into Gaul to learn the laws of the
Roman empire, — did at last so reform and civilize them by intro-
ducing their laws and customs, that for the modes of their dress and
livino- they were not inferior to the other provinces. The buildings
and other works were so very magnificent, that we view the remams
of them to this day with the greatest admiration; and the common
people will have these Roman fabrics to be the works of giants."
We proceed to a rapid notice of the more important of these monu-
ments.

* See Maps of the Society for the Diffusion of Usefiil Knowledge.

Chap. II.]

OLD ENGLAND.

In that ciirioiig ri-eord, in old French, of the fonndntion of the
Castle at Dover, whicli we find in Dugdale's ' Monaitticon,' we are
told that when Arviragus reigned in lirltain, he refused to be «ul>-
ject to Kome, and withheld the tribute; making the Ca«tle of Dover
strong with ditch and wall againitt the Romans, if they should come.
The old iiritish hill-forts and cities were not works of regular form,
like the camps and castles of the Romans ; and thuii the earlinit
remains of the labours of man in Dover Castle exhibit a ditch and
a mound of irregular furin, a parallelogram with the corners rounded
-oif, approaching to something like an oval. Yet within M* ditch
are the unquestionable fragments of Roman architecture, still stand-
ing up against the storms which have beaten against them for
nearly eighteen centuries (Fig. 89). We may well believe, there-
fore, that the statement of the chronicler is not wholly fabulous
when he said that a British king strengthened Dover Castle ; and
that the Romans, as in other cases, planted th(;ir soldiers in the
strongholds where the Britons had defied them. Be this as it may,
the Roman works of Dover Castle are among the most interesting
in the island, remarkable in themselves, suggestive of high aud so-
lemn remembrances. Toil up the steep hill, tourist, and mount the
tedious steps which place you on the heij^hts where stands this
far-famed castle. Look landward, and you have a prospect of
surpassing beauty, not unmixed with grandeur ; look seaward, and
you may descry the cliffs of France, with many a steamboat bringing
in reality those lands together which dim traditions say were once
unsevered by the sea. Look not now upon the Norman keep, for
after a little space we will ask you to return thither; but wind
round the slight ascent which is still before you, till you are at the
foot of the grassy mound upon which stand the ruined walls which
attest that here the Romans trod. That octagonal building, some
thirty or forty feet high, and which probably mounted to a much
greater height, was a Roman pharos, or lighthouse. JIark the
thickness of its walls, at least ten feet ! see the peculiarity of its
construction, wherever the modern casing, far more perishable than
the original structure, will permit you. The beacon-fires of that
tower have long been burnt out. They were succeeded by bells,
which rung their merry peals when kings and lord-wardens came
here in their cumbrous pageantry. Tlie bells were removed to
Portsmouth, and the old tower was unroofed. Man has taken no
care of it ; man has assisted the elements in its destruction. But
its builders worked not for their own age alone, as the moderns
work. Its foundations are laid in clay, and not upon the chalk.
The thin flat bricks, which are known as Roman tiles, are laid in
even courses, amidst intermediate courses of blocks of hard stalac-
titical concretions which must have been brought by sea from a con-
siderable distance. Some of the tiles are of a peculiar construction
having knobs and ledges as if to bind them fast with the other
materials. In the true Roman buildings the uniformity of the courses,
especially where tiles are used, is most remarkable. Such is the
case in this building : " With alternate courses formed of these and
other Roman tiles, and then of small blocks of the .stalactitical
incrustations, was this edifice constructed, from the bottom to the top ;
— each course of tiles consisting of two rows ; and each course of
stalactites, of seven rows of blocks, generally about seven inches
deep, and about one foot in length. Five of these- alternate courses,
in one part, like so many stages or stories, were discernible a few
years ago very clearly."— (King.) When the poor fisherman of
Rutupiae (Richborough) steered his oyster-laden bark to Gesoriacum
(Boulogne), the pharos of Dover lent its light to make his path
across the Channel less perilous and lonely. At Boulogne there was
a corresponding lighthouse of Roman work ; an octagonal tower, with
twelve stages of floors, rising to the height of one hundred and
twenty-five feet. This tower is said to have been the work of Cali-
gula. It once stood a bowshot from the sea ; but in the course of
sixteen centuries the cliff was undermined, and it fell in 1644.
The pharos of Dover has had a somewhat longer date, from the
nature of its position. No reverence for the past has assiste<l to
preserve what remains of one of the most interesting memorials of
that dominion which had such important influences in the civilization
of England. The mixed race in our country has, in fact, sprung
from tliese old Romans ; and the poetical antiquary thus carries us
back to the great progenitors of Rome herself: "Whilst," says
Camden, " I treat of the Roman Empire in Britain (which lasted, as
I said, about four hundred and seventy-six years), it comes into my
mind how many colonies of Romans must have been transplanted
hither in so long a time ; what numbers of soldiers were continually
sent from Rome, for garrisons ; how many persons were despatched
hither, to negotiate afl^airs, public or private; and that these, inter-
marrying with the Britons, seated themselves here, and multiplied into
families : for, ' Whereve) ' ( says Seneca) < the Roman conquers

ho inhabiu.' .So that I iwre ofttiiuM concluded that tiM BrttoOf
might derive themtelves from the Trojan* by iiima liooMiM (who
doubtleM d«Kended from the Ttojfkm), with gr«U«r protability
timii cither the Arvemi, who from Trojan blood iiyled UbamMlrw
brethren to the Romans, or the Mamertini, Ilodui, »nd otktn, who
upon fubulou* grouiMU gr«A«d tJMnMlvc* into iIm Tioju tuek.
For liome, that common motber (aa one call* her), cballaggw all
•uch an cit'aena —

" Quof domnit. nexnqM pfo loogiaqaa rariniL''
("Whom eonqoerd, sbo is Mered booda laUli iiad.'O

The old traditions connected with Dover Caatle, abaurd aa thay
are, are founded upon the popular diipoaitioo to veiM-nla aneieat
things. The destruction of ancient thing* in this country, dorfatt
the last three centuries, was consummated when a sceptical, innnriM
unimaginative philosophy was enabled, in its pride of reason, to
despise wiiat was old, and to give us nothing tiuit was beautiful and
venerable in the place of what had perished. Larobonie thus writes:
" The Castle at Dover, say Lydgate and Roase, was first buildod by
Julius Cesar, the lioman Emperor, in memory of whom they of the
Castle keep till this day certain vessels of old wine and salt whJeli
they affirm to be tlie remain of such provisions as be broug h t folo
it." The honest topographer adds, with a beautiful simplicity, "Am
touching the which, if they be natural and not sophisticate, I suppose
them more likely to have been of that store which Hubert de liurgh
laid in there." Now Hubert de Burgh lived three hundred aad
fifty years before Lambarde; and we are inclined to think thai
his vessels of old wine might have stood a lair chance of
tapped and drunk out during the troublesome times which tla{ia>d
between the reign of John and the reign of Elizabeth. But yet it
were vain of us to despise this confiding spirit of the old writers.
We have gained nothing in literature or in art, perhaps very little
in morals, by calling for absolute proof in all matters of history;
and by fancying that, if we cannot tiave a clear microacopic bird'a-
eye view of the past, we are to turn from its dimly-lighted plains,
and its misty hills losing themselves in the clouds, as if tliere wen
nothing soothing and elevating in their shadowy perspective. Tbara
must be doubt and difiUculty and uncertainty in all that belongs to
very remote antiquity : —

•• Darkness sorronnds xu ; seeking, we are lost
On Snowdon's wilds, amid Brigontian corea.
Or whero the solitary shepherd roves
Alung the plain of Sonim, by the Ghost
Of Time and Shadows of TroditioD crost ,
And where the boatman of the Western Isles
Slackens his conise to mark those holy piles
Which yet survive on bleak lona's coast.
Nur these, nor monuments of eldest fsme^
Kur Toliesin's unforgotten lays,
Nor characters of Greek or Boman Cune^
To an unqucstioiuble Source have led ;
Enough— if eyes that sought the Fonntain-beod
In vain, upon the growing Bill may gase."

WOBOSWOKTU.

This is wisdom — a poet's wisdom, which has sprung and ripened in
an uncongenial age. But if we seek the " growing Rill," we shall
not gaze upon it with less pleasure if we have endeavoured, however
imperfectly and erringly, to trace it to the " Fountain-head.'*

Close by the pharos are the ruins of an ancient church (Fig. 89).
This church, which was in the form of a cross, was unquestiouably
constructed of Roman materials, if it was not of Soman worlc.
The tiles present themselves in the same regular courses as in the
pharos. The latter antiquarians are inclined to the belief that this
church was constructed of the materials of a former Roman building.
It appears exceedingly difRcult to reconcile such a belief with the
fact that Roman walls, wherever we find them in this country, are
almost indestructible. The red and yellow tiles at Richborough,
for example, of which we shall have presently to speak, are em*
bedded as firmly in the concrete as the layers of flint in a cliff of
chalk The flints may be removed with much greater ease from
the chalk than the tiles from the concrete. The whole forms a
solid mass which tool can hardly touch. It would have been no
economy, we believe, of labour or of material to have pulled down
such a Roman building, to erect another out of its ruins ; allbongb,
indeed, the building may have been destroyed, and another building
of new materials may have been put together upon the principles of
Roman construction. Such considerations ought to induce us not
lightly to reject the traditions, which have come down to us tbrDugb
the old ecclesiastical annalists, of a very early Christian church,
some s.iy the first Christian church, having been erected within the
original Roman, or earlier than Roman, hill-fort in Dover Castle.
Little is left of this interesting ruin of some Christian church: and

E 2

89.— Roman Lighthonse, Cburcb, and Trenches in DoTer Castle.

96.— Roman StandarU-Bearers.

9T.— Roman Soldiers.

91,— Roman Cbarch in Dover Castle.

.-— -"-~j^^

94.— Roman Galley.

95.— Roman Galley.

90.— Dover Cliffs.

s ii

l(i«.— N.(Ui VV»1

98. — I'laii of llicUborough.

'rT^_^ir ■i'*' ^**

«».— Ricbboroogb. Otoeral Tiew, fhun the KMi

101.— Flan of the Fl&tfarm and Cntt, Kichborough.

C^ ^ — ^¥-^ O

NortA,

Chnrch on the Bile
of the SaceUuni.

Kacp.

vr^^-v

tm 800 " ■ 3"0

f U — ^

J0<.— Plan of Porchester Castle, Hanta.

103.— Rnliia of Ancieiit Cbmch of R*c«lTer.

OLD ENGLAND,

[Book. I.

tliat little lias been defaced by the alterations of successive centuries
(Fig. 91). But here is a religious edifice of Roman worlimanship,
or built after the model of Roman worlitnanship, in the fomi dear
to the Christian worship, the primitive and lasting symbol of the
Cliristian faitli. It is held by some, and perhaps not unreasonably,
that here stood the Prajtorium of tlie Roman Castle — the elevated
spot for state display and religious ceremonial, the place of com-
mand and of sacrifice. It is held, too, that upon such a platform
was erected the Sacellum, the low buildings where the eagles whicli
led the Roman soldiers to victory were guarded with reverential
care. Such buildings, it is contended, miglit grow into Cliristian
cliurches. It is difficult to establish or to disprove these theories ;
but the fact is certain that in several of the undoubted Roman
castles, or camps, is a small building of cruciform shape, placed not
far from the centre of the enclosure. At Porchester (Fig. 104)
and at Dover these buildings have become churches. The chro-
nicle of Dover Castle says (see Appendix, No. 1, to Dugdale's
Account of the Nunnery of St. Martin), " In the year of grace 180,
reigned in Britain Lucius. He became a Christian under Pope
Kleutherius, and served God, and advanced Holy Church as much
as he could. Amongst other benefits he made a church in the said
castle where the people of the town might receive the Sacraments."
The chronicler then goes on to tell us of " Arthur the Glorious,"
and the hall which he made in Dover Castle ; and then he comes
to the dreary period of the Saxon invasion under Hengist, when
" the Pagan people destroyed the churches throughout the land,
and thrust out the Christians." The remaining part of this history
which pertains to the old church in the castle is told with an im-
pressive quaintness : "In the year of grace 596, St. Gregory, the
Pope, sent into England his cou.<in St. Augustine, and many other
monks with him, to preach the Christian faith to the English.
There then reigned in Kent Adelbert (Ethelbert), who, through
the Doctrine of St. Augustine, became a Christian with all his
people ; and all the other people in the land so became through the
teachers which St. Augustine sent to them. This Adelbert had a
son whose name was Adelbold (Eadbald), who, after the death of his
father, reigned ; and he became a Pagan, and banished the people
of Holy Church out of his kingdom. Then the Archbishop of
Canterbury, Laurence, who was preacher after St. A'lgustine, fled
with others out of the land. But St. Peter appeared to him, and
commanded that he should go boldly to the king and reprove him
for his misdeeds. He did so, and by the grace of God the king
repented and became devout to God and religious. This Adelbold
ordained twenty-two secular canons in the castle to serve his chapel,
and gave them twenty and two provenders (means of support).
The said canons dwelt in the castle a hundred and five years, and
maintained a great and fine house there, and went in and out of the
castle night and day, according to their will, so that the Serjeants
of the king which guarded the castle could not restrain them."
The canons, it would appear from this record, conducted themselves
somewhat turbulently and irregularly during these hundred and
five years, till they were finally ejected by King Withred, who
removed them to the church of St. Martin, in the town of Dover,
which he built for them. A fragment of the ruins of the town
priory is to be seen near the market-place in Dover. This ejectment
is held to have happened in the year 696. If the story be correct,
the church within the castle must have been erected previous to the
end of the seventh century. It might have been erected at a much
earlier period, when many of the Roman soldiers of Britain were
converts to the Roman faith ; and here, upon that commanding rock
which Matthew Paris called " Clavis et Repagnlum totius Regni,"
the very key and barrier of the whole kingdom, might the eagles
have vailed before the emblems of the religion of peace (Figs. 92,
96), and the mailed soldiers have laid down their shields and javelins
(Fig. 97) to mingle in that common worship which made the Roman
and the Barbarian equals.

It was a little before the commencement of a glorious corn-
harvest that we first saw Richborougli. Descending from the high
fertile land of the Isle of Thanet, we pos.sed Ebbefleet, the spot in
Pegwell Bay where tradition says Hengist and Ilorsa landed, to
carry war and rapine into the country. The coast here wears an
aspect of melancholy dreariness. To the east we looked back upon
the bold cliff of Ramsgate ; to the west, upon the noble promontory
of the South Foreland. But all the land space between these two
extremities of the bay is a vast flat, drained in every direction by
broad ditches, amidst which, in propitious seasons, thousands of
sl)eep find a luxuriant though coarse pasture. At low-water the
sea retires many furlongs from tliis flat shore ; and then the
fisherboy fills his basket with curious shells, which are here found

in great variety. "When the tide has ebbed, a narrow stream may
be traced for a long distance through the sand, which, when the
salt wave has receded, still fills the little channel into which it
empties itself from its inland source. This is the river Stour, whose
main branch, flowing from Ashford by the old Roman Castle of
Chilham, and onward to Canterbury, forms the boundary of the
Isle of Thanet on the south-west ; and making a sudden bend
southerly to Sandwich, returns again in a northerly direction to
empty itself into its sea-channel in Pegwell Bay. The road crosses
the peninsula which is formed by this doubling of the river. At
about a mile to the west is a gentle hill crowned with a large mass
of lo\v wall. At the distance of two or three miles we distinctly
see that this is some remarkable object. It is not a lofty castle
of the middle ages, such as we sometimes look upon, with tower
and bastion crumbling into picturesque ruin ; but here, on the north
side, is a long line of wall, without a single aperture, devoid alike
of loophole or battlement, and seemingly standing there only to
support the broad masses of ivy which spread over its surface in
singular luxuriance. We take boat at a little ferry-house, at a
place called Saltpans. Leland, when he went to Richborough three
hundred j'ears ago, found a hermit there ; and he says, " I had an-
tiquities of the heremite, the which is an industrious man." So say
we of the ferryman. He has small copper coins in abundance,
which tell what people have been hereabout. He rows us down the
little river for about three-quarters of a mile, and we are under the
walls of Eichborough Castle (Fig. 99). This is indeed a mighty
monument of ages that are gone. Let us examine it with some-
what more than common attention.

Ascending the narrow road which passes the cottage built at the
foot of the bank, we reach some masses of wall which lie below the
regular line (Plan 98). Have these fallen from their original posi-
tion, or do they form an outwork connected with fragments which
also appear on the lower level of the slope ? This is a question not
very easy to decide from the appearance of the walls themselves.
Another question arises, upon which antiquarian writers have greatly
differed. "Was there a fourth wall on the south-eastern side facing
the river ? It is believed by some that there was such a wall, and
that the castle or camp once formed a regular parallelogram. It is
difficult to reconcile this belief with the fact that the sea has been
constantly retiring from Eichborough, and that the little river was
undoubtedly once a noble estuary. Bede, who wrote his ' Ecclesi-
astical History' in the beginning of the eighth century, thus describes
the branch of the river which forms the Isle of Thanet, and whicij
now runs a petty brook from Eichborough to Eeculver : " On the
east side of Kent is the Isle of Thanet, considerably large ; that is,
containing, according to the English way of reckoning, six hundred
families, divided from the other land by the river Wantsumu, which
is about three furlongs over, and fordable only in two places, for
both ends of it run into the sea." Passing by the fragments oiF
which we have spoken, we are under the north (strictly north-east)
wall — a wondrous work, calculated to impress us with a conviction
that the people who built it were not the petty labourers of an hour,
who were contented with temporary defences and frail resting-places.
The outer works upon the southern cliff of Dover, which were run
up during the war with Napoleon at a prodigious expense, are
crumbling and perishing, through the weakness of job and contract,
which could not endure for half a century. And here stand the
walls of Eichborough, as they have stood for eighteen hundred years,
from twenty to thirty feet high, in some places with foundations five
feet below the eartli, eleven or twelve feet thick at the base, with
their outer masonry in many parts as perfect as at the hour when
their courses of tiles and stones were first laid in beautiful regularity.
The northern wall is five hundred and sixty feet in length. From
the eastern end, for more than two-fifths of its whole length, it pre-
sents a surface almost wholly unbroken. It exhibits seven courses of
stone, each course about four feet thick, and the courses separated
each from the other by a double line of red or yellow tiles, each
tile being about an inch and a half in thickness. The entrance (o
the camp through this north wall is very perfect, of the construc-
tion marked in the plan. This was called by the Eoniaiis the
Porta Principalis, but in after times the Postern-gate. We pass
through this entrance, and we are at once in the interior of the
Eoman Castle. The area within the walls is a field of five acres
covered, when we saw it, with luxuriant beans, whose green pods
were scarcely yet shrivelled by the summer sun. Towards the
centre of the field, a little to the east of the postern-gate, was a
laro-e space where the beans grew not. The area within the walls is
much higher in most places than the ground without ; and therefore
the walls present a far more imposing appearance on their outer
side. As we pass along the north wall to its western extremity, i^

CilAP. II. J

OLD ENGLAND.

becomes much more broken and dilapidated ; large fragment having
fallen from the top, whieh now presents a very irregular line. (l''ig.
100.) It is considered that at the north-west and south-west angles
tliere were circular towers. The west wall is very much broken
down; and it is held tliat at the opening (Plan 98) was the De-
cuman gate (the gate through which ten men could march abreast).
The south wall k considerably dilapidated ; and from the nature of
the ground is at present of much less length than the north wall.
Immense cavities present themselves in this wall, in which the
farmer deposits his ploughs and harrows, and the wandering gipsy
seeks shelter from the driving north-east rain. One of these cavities
in the south wall is forty-two feet long, as we roughly measured it.
and about five feet in height. The wall is in some places com-
pletely pierced through ; so that here is a long low arch, with fifteen
or eighteen feet of solid work, ten feet thick, above it, held up
almost entirely by the lateral cohesion. Nothing can be a greater
proof of the extraordinary solidity of the original work. Krom
some very careful engravings of the external sides of the walls
given in King's ' Munimenta Antiqua,' we find that the same cavity
was to be see« in 1775.

Of the early iiiiportance of Kichborough we have the most deci-
sive evidence. Bede, eleven hundred years ago, speaks of it as the
chief thing of note on the southern coast. "Writing of Britain, he
says, " On the south it has the Belgic Gaul ; passing along whose
nearest shore there appears the city called Kutubi Portus, the which
port is now by the English nation corruptly called Reptacester :
the passage of the sea from Gesoriacuni, the nearest shore of the
nation of the Morini, being fifty miles, or, as some write, four hun-
dred and fifty furlongs." Camden thus describes the changes in the
name of tliis celebrated place : " On the south side of the mouth of
Want-ium (which they imagine 1ms changed its channel), and over
against the island was a city, called by Ptolemy, Rhutupise ; by
Tacitus, Portus Trutulensis, for Rliutupensis, if B. Rhenanus's con-;
jecture liold good ; by Antoninus, Rhilupis Portus; by Ammianus,
Rhutupiie statio ; by Orosius, the port and city of Rhutubus ; by the
Saxons (according to Bede), Reptacester, and by others Ruptimulh ;
by Alfred of Beverley, Richberge ; and at this day Riehborrow ;
thus has time sported in varying one and the same name." It is
unnecessary for us here to enter into the question whether Rhutupise
was Richborough, or Sandwich, or Stonor. The earlier antiquaries,
Leland, Lambarde, Camden, decide, as they well might, that the
great Roman Castle of Richborough was the key of that haven
which Juvenal has celebrated for its oysters (Sat. iv), and Lucan
for its stormy seas (lib. vi.). Our readers, we think, will prefer,
to such a dissertation, that most curious description of the place
which we find in Leland's ' Itinerary '—a description that has been
strangely neglected by most modern topographers : " Ratesburgh,
otherwise Richeboro, was, or ever the river of Store did turn his
bottom or old canal, within the Isle of Thanet ; and by likelihood
the main sea came to the very foot of the castle. The main sea is
now off of it a mile, by reason of woze (ooze) that hath there
swollen up. The site of the old town or castle is wonderful fair
upon a hill. The walls, the which remain there yet, be in compass
almost as much as the Tower of London. They have been very
high, thick, strong, and well embattled. The matter of them is
flint, marvellous and long bricks, white and red after the Britons'
fashion. The cement was made of sea-sand and small pebble.
There is a great likelihood that the gooilly hill about the castle,
and especially to Sandwich-ward, hath been well inhabited. Corn
groweth on the hill in marvellous plenty ; and in going to plough
there hath, out of mind, been found, and now is, more antiquities of
Roman money that in any place else of England. Surely reason
Bpeaketh that this should be Rutupinum. For besides that the name
somewhat touchetii, the very near passage from Clyves, or Cales,
was to Ratesburgh, and now is to Sandwlcli, the which is about a
mile off; though now Sandwich be not celebrated because of Good-
win Sands and the decay of the haven. There is a good flight
shot off from Ratesburgh, towards Sandwich, a great dike, cast in
a round compass, as it had been for fence of men of war. The
compass of the ground within is not much above an acre, and it is
very hollow by casting up the earth. They call the place there
Lytleborough. Within the castle is a little parish-church of St.
Augustine, and an hermitage. I had antiquities of the hermit,
the which is an industrious man. Not far from the hermitage is
a cave where men have sought and digged for treasure. I saw it by
candle within, and there were coiilcs (rabbits). It was so siralt,
that I had no mind to creep far in. In the north side of the Castle
is a head in the wall, now sore defaced with weather. They call it
Queen Bertha Head. Near to that place, hard by the wall, was a
pot of Rtf'nan money found."

In the bean-fieltl within the walls of Biebboraagli UtM* wm a
space where no beann grew, which we could not tppraadi wHkout

trampling down the thick crop. We knew what wa< the auMe of
that |)atch of unfertility. We liail learnt from the work of Mr.
King, who had derived hit infornuition from Mr. Uoyt, the local
historian of Sandwich, that there wai, " at the depth of a few Aal,
between the soil and rubbish, a solkJ regular pUtfurui, ono baadrad
and furty-fcur in length, and a hundred and four feet in breadth,
being a most compact nuus of masonrj com[XMed of flint stonts and
strong coarse mortar." This great platform, " as hard and entire
in every part as a solid rock," is pronounced by King (o hare
" the great parade, or Augurale, belonging to the PrKtorium, w
was the Sacellum for the eagles and ensigns, and where the sacrificM
were offered." But upon this platform is place<l a second compact
mass of masonry, rising nearly five feet above the lower mass, in the
form of a cross, very narrow in the longer part, which extends from
tiie south to the north (or, to speak mure correctly, from the south-
west to the north cast), but in the shorter transverse of the croM,
which is forty-six feet in length, having a breadth of twenty-two
feet. This cross, according to King, was the site of the Sacellum.
Half a century ago was this platform dug about and under, and
bra-ss and lead, and broken vessels were found, and a curious little
bronze figure of a Roman soldier playing upon the bagpipea (^'>g'
102). Again has antiquarian curiosity been set to work, and
labourers are now digging and delving on the edge of the platform,
and breaking their tools again.st the iron concrete. The workmen
have found a passage along the south and north sides of the platform,
and have penetrated, under the platform, to wall* upon which it b
supposed to rest, whose foundations are laid twenty-eight feet lower.
Some fragments of pottery have been found in this last excavation,
and the explorers expect to break through the walls upon which the
platform rests, and find a chamber. It may be so. Looking at tho
greater height of the ground within the walls, compared with the
height without, we are inclined to believe that this platform, which
is five feet in depth, was the open basement of some public building
in the Roman time. To what purpose it was applied in the Christian
period, whether of Rome or Britain, we think there can be no doubt.
The traveller who looked upon it three centuries ago tells us dis-
tinctly, " within the Castle is a little parish-church of St. Augustine,
and an hermitage." When Camden saw the place, nearly a century
after Leland, the little parish-church w-as gone. He found no
hermitage there, and no hermit to show him antiquities. Ue says,
" To teach us that cities die as well as men, it is at this day a corn-
field, wherein when the corn is grown up one may observe the
draughts of streets crossing one another, for where they have gone
the corn is thinner. . . . Nothing now remains but some ruinous
walls of a square tower cemented with a sort of sand extremely
binding." He also says that the crossings of the streets are com-
monly called St. Augustine's Cross. There is certainly more coo-
fusion in this description of crossings as one cross. To us it appears
more than probable that the " little parish-church of St. Augustine,"
which Leland saw, had this cross for its foundation, and tiiat when
this church was swept away — when the hermit who dwelt there,
and there pursued his solitary worship, fell upon evil times — the
cross, with a few crumbling walls, proclaimed where the little parish
church had stood, and that this was then called St. Aug^tine's
Cross (Fig. 191). The cross is decidedly of a later age than the
platform ; the masonry is far less regular and compact. Camden,
continuing the history of Richborough afler the Romans, says, " This
Rutupise flourished likewise after the coming in of the Saxons, for
authors tell us it was the palace of Ethelbert, king of Kent, and Bede
honours it with the name of a city." The belief that the palace of
Ethelbert was upon this commanding elevation, so strengthened by
art, full no doubt of remains of Roman magnificence, the key of the
broad river which allowed an ample passage for ships of burthen from
the Channel to the estuary of the Thames, is a rational belief. But
Lambarde says of Richborough, " Whether it were that palace of
King Ethelbert from whence he went to entertain Augustine, he that
shall advisedly re«d the twenty-fifth chapter of Beda his first book shall
have just cause to doubt ; forasnmch as he showeth manifestly that
tlie king came from his palace into the Isle of Thanet to Auaustine,
and Leland suith that Kichtxirough was then wiihin I'iianet, altJiough
that since tliat lime the water has changed its old course and shut
it clean out of the island." This is a refinement in the old
Kentish top()grapher which will scarcely outweigh the general
fitness of Richborough for the palace of the Saxon king. The
twenty-fifth chapter of Bede is indeed worth reading " advisedly ;'*
but not to settle this minute jwint of local antiquarianism. We
have given Bede's description of the Isle of Tlianet, in which bland,
he says, " landed the servant of our Lord, Augustine, and his com-

. ^ . - ^7/ '—-^^^t^^

107.— Walls and Uate, Pcvensoj'.

108.— Walls, reveneey.

105.— Qenctal View of the Rulus of Pefenscy Casilc.

109.— SuppD&ed Saxon Keep, Pevcnjey.

106.— Plan of Pevenscy Cutle.

111.— Korman Keep, Peyensey.

113. — Interior of Nonnaii Tuwjr.

in.— Rome— « fraginenl «fl«r PIraneti.

114.— Conflict betwMo Roiuiu ukl DtrbtrUafc From lb« Anb of TriO*'>'

IH, Vrnm ri*i«y.

//^

113.— The Tbamos at Cowty ijtakes.

No.

">45iB»i^

I IS.— Coin of CUndius, rapresoQting Ma Britub Trtomph, Ftma
tbe British Momud.

121.— Coin of CuncboLi!-.!

120.— Cola or CtaudiM. AclMl lixe. OoU. Weight la Grtlnt. In Brit. Mu

L— Ftan a Oonar Ooip
ktkiattdttlla

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book I.

panions, being as i. is reported near forty men." The king, according
to Bede's narrative, hearing of their arrival, and the nature of their
mission, ordered them to stay in the island, where they should be
furnislied witli all necessaries. " Some days after, the king came
into the island, and, sitting m the open air, ordered Augustine and
his companions to be brought into his presence. For he had taken
precaution tiiat they should not come to him in any house, according
to the ancient superstition, lest, if they had any magical arts, they
might at their coming impose upon and get the better of him. But
they came furnished with divine virtue, not with disabolical, bearing
a silver cross for their banner, and the image of our Lord and
Saviour painted on a board, and, singing the litany, offered up
their prayers to the Lord for their own, and the eternal salvation of
tliose to whom tliey were come. Having, pursuant to the king's
commands, after sitting down, preached to liini and all his attendants
there present the Word of Life ; he answered thus : ' Your words
and promises are very taking, but in regard that they are new and
uncertain, I cannot approve of them, forsaking tliat which I have
so long followed with the whole English nation. But because you
are come from far into my kingdom, and, as I conceive, are desirous
to impart to us those tilings which you believe to be true, and most
beneficial, we w'ill not molest you, but rather give you favourable
entertainment, and take care to supply you with your necessary
sustenance ; nor do we forbid you by preaching to gain as many as
you can to your religion.' Accordingly he gave them a dwelling-
place in the city of Canterbury, which was the metropolis of all his
dominions, and pursuant to his promise, besides allowing them their
diet, permitted them to preach." This memorable transaction, told
with such toucliing simplicity a little more than a century after its
occurrence, by the illustrious monk of Jarrow, imparts a far deeper
interest to this locality than its Roman memorials.

John Twyne, a celebrated antiquarian who lived in the sixteenth
century, says, " There be right credible persons yet living that have
often seen not only small boats but vessels of good burden to pass
to and fro upon the Wantsum, where now the water, especially
towards the west, is clean excluded ; and there be apparent marks
that Sarr, where they now go over, was a proper haven." Those
who have traversed the low country which lies between Eeculver
and Sandwich — a task not very easily to be accomplished unless the
pedestrian can leap the broad ditches which drain the marsh — will
readily comprehend how, in the course of eighteen centuries, the
great estuary may have dwindled into a petty rill. There is notliing
in tiie nature of the country to prevent one believing that a large
arm of the sea cut off the Isle of Thanet from the mainland of Kent,
and that this channel, in the time of the Romans, formed the readiest
p;issage from the coast of Gaul to London. Tiie late Mr. John
Rickman has well described tlie course of communication between
the Continent and Britain : — " The Roman roads in Kent deserve
notice as having been planned with an intention of greater scope
than (within my knowledge) has been ascribed to them. The
nearest and middle harbour of access from Gaul was evidently
Dover ; but whenever the wind was unfavourable for a direct
passage, further recourse became desirable, and from Leraanis
(Lymiie, near Hythe) and Ritupaj (Richborough, near Sandwich)
branch roads were made, joining the Dover road at Canterbury ; so
that a dispatch-boat, by sailing from the windward port, or steering for
the leeward of these three ports, could seldom fail of a ready passage
to or from the Continent ; and especially it is remarkable that the
prevailing south-west wind (with this advantage) permitted a direct
passage from Gessoriaciim or Itius (Boulogne or . Witsand) to
Ritupte, in effect to London ; the "Wantsum channel then and long
after existing within the Isle of Thanet to Regulbium (Reculver)
on the Thames, being that by which early navigation was sheltered
in its access to the Britisli metropolis. Indeed the first paragraph
of the Itinerary of Antoninus gives the reputed » distance from
Gessonacum to Ritupae, as if more important or more in use than
the shorter passage to Dover." (' Archaeologia,' vol. xxviii.) With
this explanation we can comprehend the advantage of the Roman
position at Reculver. Through this broad channel of the Wantsum
the Roman vessels from Boulogne sailed direct into the Thames,
without going round the North Foreland ; and the entrance to the
estuary was defended by the great Castle of Richborough at the one
end, and by the lesser Castle of Reculver at the other. The Roman
remains still existing at Reculver are less interesting than those at
Ricliborough, chiefly because they are of less magnitude and are more
dilapidated. Very close to the ruins of the ancient church, whose
spires were once held in such reverence tliat ships entering the Tiiames
uere wont to lower their top sails as they passed (Fig. 1 03), is an area,
now partly under the plough and partly a kitchen garden. It is
somewhat elevated above the surrounding fields ; and, descending a

little distance to the west of the ruined church, we are under the
Roman wall, which still stands up on the western and southern
sides with its layers of flat stone and concrete, defying the dripping
rain and the insidious ivy. The castle stood upon a natural rising
ground, beneath which still flows the thread-like stream of the river
Stour or Wantsum. Although it was once the key of the nortliern
moutli of the great estuary, it did not overhang the sea on the
northern cliff, as tlie old church ruin now hangs. When the
legions were here encamped, it stood far away from the dashing of
the nortliern tide, which for many generations has been here
invading the land with an irresistible power. Century after century
has the wave been gnawing at tliis cliff; and, as successive portions
have fallen, the bare sides have presented human bones, and coins,
and fragments of pottery, and tessellated pavements, which told that
man had been here, with his comforts and luxuries around him, long
before Ethelbert was laid beneath the floor of the Saxon church,
upon whose ruins the sister spires of the Norman rose, themselves
to be a ruin, now preserved only as a sea-mark. Reculver is a
memorable example of the changes produced in a short period of
three centuries. Leland's description of the place is scarcely credible
to those who have stood beneath these spires, on the very margin
of the sea, and have looked over the low ruined wall of the once
splendid choir, upon the fishing-boats rocking in the tide beneath : —
" Reculver is now scarce half a mile from the shore." In another
place — " Reculver standeth within a quarter of a mile or a little
more from the sea-side. The town at this time is but village-like ;
sometime where as the parish church is now was a faire and a great
abbey, and Brightwald, Archbishop of Canterbury, was of that house.
The old building of the church of the abbey remaineth, having two
goodly spiring steeples. In the entering of the choir is one of the
fairest and the most ancient cross that ever I saw, nine feet, as I
guess, in height ; it standeth like a fiiir column." Long ago has the
cross perished, with its curiously-wrought carvings and its painted
images ; and so has perished the " very ancient book of the Evan-
geles," which Leland also describes. The Romans have left more
durable traces of their existence at Reculver than the ministers of
religion, wlio here, for centuries, had sung the daily praises of Him
who delivereth out of their distress those " that go down to the sea
in ships, and occupy their business in great waters." The change
in names of places sometimes tells the story of their material changes.
The Eegulbium of the Romans became the Eaculfcester of the
Saxons, cester indicating a camp ; that name changes when the
camp has perished, and the great abbey is flourishing, to Eaculf-
minster ; the camp and the abbey have both perished, and we have
come back to the Latin Regulbium, in its Anglicized form of
Eeculver. Some fiercer destruction even than that which swept away
the abbey probably fell upon the Roman city. Gibson, speaking of
the coins and jewellery which have been found at various times at
Reculver, says, " These they find here in such great quantities that
we must needs conclude it to have been a place heretofore of great
extent, and very populous, and that it has one time or other under-
went some great devastation, either by war or fire, or both. I think
I may be confident of the latter, there being many patterns found
of metals run together." The antiquities of Regulbium are fully
described in the elegant Latin treatise of Dr. Battely, ' Antiquitates
Eutupinae,' 1711.

After the Eomans had established a permanent occupation of
Britain, the defence of the coast was reduced to a system. AVher-
ever the Eomans conquered, they organized, and by their wise
arrangements became preservers and benefactors. It is generally
supposed that Eichborough and Eeculver were Eoman forts as
early as the time of Claudius, but that other castles on the coast
were of later date, being for defence against tlie Saxon pirates of
the third century. At this period there was a high military officer
called Comes Littoris Saxonici per Britanniam, the Count of the
Saxon Siiore in Britain. He was the commander of all the castles
and garrisons on the coast of Norfolk, of Essex, of Kent, of Sussex,
and of Hampshire. These coasts formed the Saxon Shore. Sir
Francis Palgrave thinks that the name was derived from the Saxons
having already here made settlements. Others believe that the
Saxon Shore was so called from its being peculiarly exposed to the
rava"-es of the Saxons, to resist whom the great castles which stood
upon this shore were built or garrisoned. These castles were nine
in number ; and, although in one or two particulars there are
differences of opinion as to their sites, the statement of Horsley \e
for the most part admitted to be correct.

On the Norfolk coast there were two forts. Branodunum (Bran-
caster about four miles from Burnham Market) overlooked the

Chap. 11.]

OLD ENGLAND,

mnnhes. The station is well defined by the remains which are
constantly dug up. Gariannuniim (Hiirgh, in Suffulk, situated at
the junction of the Waveney and I lie Yare) is a nohle ruin. Two
engravings of ils walls will be found at page 30 (Figs. 129, 130).
Those walls, wliicli are almost fourteen feet high and nine thick,
inclo.se on three sides an area forming nearly a regular parallelogram,
six hundred and forty-two feet long by four hundred feet broad.
The western boundary is now formed by the river Waveney, it being
supposed, and indeed almost proved by a very ancient map, that the
west side of the station was once def(!n<led I)y the sea. If there was
ever a west wall, which is nuich to be doubted, it has now entirely
disappeared. The cast wall is almost perfect, as shown in our
engravings. The north and south walls are in great part ndnous.
We transcnl)e from the ' I'enny Cyclopwdia' a brief description
of these walls, written by an architect «ho visited the place, and
surveyed it with great care:—" The whole area of the inclosnrc
was about four acres and three-quarters. The walls are of rubble
masonry, faced with altcrnaK' courses of bricks and flints : and on
the tops of the towers, which are attached to the walls, are holes
two feet in diameter and two feet deep, suppo.sed to have been
intended for the insertion of temporary watch-towers, probably of
wood. On the east side the four circular towers are fourteen feet
in diameter. Two of them are placed at the angles, where the
walls are rounded, and two at equal lli^tances from the angles ; an
opening has been left in the centre of the wall, which is considered
by Mr. King to be the Porta Decumana, but by Mr. Ives the Porta
Praatoria. The north and south sides are also defended by towers
of rubble masonry. The foundation, on which the Romans built
these walls was a thick bed of clialk lime, well rammed down, and
the whole covered with a layer of earth and sand, to harden the
mass and exclude the water : this was covered with two-inch oak
plank placed transversely on the foundation, and over this was a
bed of coarse mortar, on which v/t roughly spread the first layer
of stones. The mortar appears to be composed of lime and coarse
tand, unsifted, mixed with gravel and small pebbles or shingle.
Mr. Ives thinks they used hot grouting, which will account for the
tenacity of the mortar. The bricks at Burgh Castle are of a fine red
colour and a very close texture — they are one foot and a half long,
one foot broad, and one inch and a half thick."

In Essex there was one fort, Othona (Ithanchester, not far from
Maiden), over which the sea now flows.

In Kent there were four castles thus garrisoned and commanded :
Rcgulbium (Reculver), Kitupse (Richborough), Dubrse (Dover),
and Lemanse (Lymne). The remains of this last of the Kenti.-^ii
fortresses are now very inconsiderable. Leland, however, thus
describes it : — " Lymme, hill of, or Lyme, was some time a famous
haven, and good for ships, that miyht come to the foot of the hill.
[The river Limene, or Rother, formerly ran beneath the hill.]
The place is yet called Shipway and Old Haven ; farther, at this
day the Lord of the Five Ports kecpeth his principal court a little
by east from Lymme Hill. There remaineth at this day the ruins
of a strong fortress of the Britons hanging on the hill, and coming
down to the very foot. The compass of the fortre.ss seemeth to be
ten acres. The old walls are made of Britons' bricks, veiy large,
and great flint, set together almost indissolubly with mortars made
of small pebble. The walls be very thick, and in the west end of
the castle appeareth the base of an old tower. About this castle
in time of mind were found antiquities of money of the Romans.
There went from Lynnne to Canterbury a street fair-paved, whereof
of this day it is called Stony Street. It is the straightest that ever
I saw, and toward Canterbury-ward the pavement continually
appeareth for four or five miles." Such is Leiand's account, three
centuries ago, of a ruin which since that period has more rapidly
perished from the subsidence of the soil upon which it stands.
Lambarde, who wrote half a century after Leland, says of Lymme,
" They affirm that the water forsaking them by little and little,
decay and solitude came at the length upon the place." There is
the gate-house of a later building than the Roman walls still
remaining, built of large bricks and flints, as the tower of the
neighbouring church is built. These may contain some of the
ancient materials.

Anderida, the sea-fort of Sussex, is held by some to be Hastingii,
by others to be East Bourn. It is not our purpose to enter upon
any controversial discussion of such matters; but it appears to us
that Pevensey, one of the most remarkable castles in our country,
which the Roman, and the Saxon, and the Norman, had one after
the other garrisoned and fortified, — the ruins of each occupier
themselves telling such a tale of "mutability" as one spot has
seldom told,— was as likely to have been the Anderida of the Saxon
shore, as Hastings and E.Tst Bourn, between which it is situated.

Be that ns it may, we proceed briefly lo denmht this ranarkablii
ruin. The village of Peventey t« about equidutant from Bexhill
and East Bourn. I'he approach (o it fma either place i« aa drc«n
as can well l>c imagined, over a vaat inar«b, with nothing lo wlWr*
the prospect seaward but the ugly Martcllo towers, which oo ihU
coast are stuck so thick that a aecond William of Normandy would
scarcely attempt a landing. Tliey now giiani ihc »liore, not agaiiut
Williams and Napoleons, but agaiimt iImm« who invade the land
with scheidam and brandy. liining gently out of this flat git>ui.<l
we sec the Castle of Pevensey. It is, with »ery slight liUknnee;
situated exactly as Richborough is situated — a marsh from which the
sea has receded, a cliff' of moderate height rising out of the mar»b.
a little stream beneath the clifl*. Here, as at Rtchborout>h, ha«e
the Roman galleys anchored ; sheltered by the bold promontory
of lk*achy Head from the south-west gales, and secured from tlie
attacks of pirates by the garriaon who guarded those walls. Wo
ascend the cliff from the village, and enter the area within the
walls at the opening on the cast (Plan 106). The external appearance
of the gate by which we enter is shown in Fig. 107. This ia hdd
to have bten the Prictorian Gate. The external architecture of tlie
gate and of the walls has evidently undergone great alteration since
the Roman period. In some parts we have the herring-bone work
of the Saxon, and the arch of the Nonnan ; but the Roman lias left
his mark indelibly on the whole of these external walls, in the
regular courses of brick which form the bond of the stone and
rubble, which chiefly constitute the mighty mass. The external
towers, which are indicated on the plan, are quite solid : some of
these have been undermined and have fallrn, but others have been
carefully buttressed and otherwise rei>aired in very modern times
(Fig. 108). Having pas-ocd into the area by the east gate, we croM
in the direction of the dotted line to the south-western or Decuman
Gate. This is very perfect, having a tower on each side. Going
without the walls at this point, and scrambling beneath them lo the
south, we can well understand how the fort stood pmudly above the
low shore when the sea almost washed its walls. The ruin on this
side is highly picturesque, large mas.ies of the original wall having
fallen (Fig. 10.5). On the north side was a few years since a
fragment of a supposed Saxon keep, held to be an addition to the
original Roman Castrum (Fig. 109). xiut the most imfiortant and
interesting adaptation to another period of the Roman Pevensey is
the Norman keep, the form of which is indicated on the PUn 106,
at the south-ea.st, and which was evidently fitted upon the original
Roman wall so as to form the coast defence on that side. We
purposely reserve any minute description of this very remarkable
part of the ruin for another period. The ponderous walls of tlie
Roman dominion are almost merged in the greater interest of the
moated keep of the Norman conquest. It will be sufficient for us
here to present engravings of the Norman works (Figs. 110, 111,
112), reserving their description for another Book. Tlie area
within the Roman walls of Pevensey is seven acres. The irregular
form of the walls would indicate that here was a British stronghold
before the Roman castle.

The one Roman .sea-fort of Hamjishirc, Portiis Adumns (Ports-
mouth), oflers a striking contrast lo the decay and solitude which
prevail, with the exception of Dover, in all the other forts of the
Saxon shore.

In noticing the two descents of Csesar upon Britain (page 26) we
said, " From the nature of his inroad into the country, no monuments
exist, or could have existed, to attest his progress." But there is
a monument, if so it may be called, still existing, which furnishes
evidence of the systematic resistance which was made to his progress.
Bede, writing at the beginning of the eighth century, after describing
with his wonted brevity the battle in which Cawar in his aeoond
invasion put the Britons to flight, says, " Thence he proceeded to
the river Thames, which is said to be fordable only in one placr.
An immense multitude of the enemy had jxeted themselves on the
farthest side of the river, under the conduct of Cassibelan, and
fenced the bank of the river and almost all the ford under water
with sharp stakes, the remains of which stakes are to be there seen
to this day, and they appear to the beholders to be about the
thickness of a man's thigh, and being cased with lead, remain
immoveable, fixed in the bottom of the river." Camden, writing
nine centuries after Bede, whose account he quotes, fixes this
remarkable ford of the Thames near Oatlands : " For this was t!ie
only place in the Thames formerly fordable, and that too not
without great difliculty, which the Britons themselves in a manner
pointed out to him [Caesar] ; for on the other side of the river a
St rone body of the British had planted themselves, and Jie Dank

F 2

131,— Wall ofScvenis, ou tbo Sanditone Quarrle>, Denton Dean, near Xevcaatle-ipon-Tyne

^j/-f^^^^

ISX^BiAUdi QUiMk

132 —Wall of Sevenis, near Houseslead, NorUiTunberland.

134.— Tomb of a ■

"'►T);. ■ »> *''

131.— Roman Highway on tbe Biala of thi TUxr

UV— Bcsan laigt «f Tktoiy.
37

OLD ENGLAND.

[Be OK L

itself was fenced with sliarp stakes driven into the ground, and some
of t)ie same sort were fastened under water." Camden here adopts
Caesar's own words : " Ripa autem erat acutis sudibus prsefixis
.nunita, ejusdenique generis sub aqua defixse sudes flumine tege-
bantur" (' De Bell. Gal.' lib. v.). Our fine old topographer is
singulaily energetic in fixing the place of Cassar's passage : " It is
impossible I should be mistaiien in the place, because here the river
is scarce six foot deep ; and the place at this day, from those stakes,
is called Coway Stakes ; to wliich we may add that Csesar makes tlie
bounds of Cassivelan, where he fixes this his passage, to be about
eighty miles distant from that sea which waslies tlie east part of
Kent, where he landed : now tliis ford we speak of is at the same
distance from tlie sea; and I am the first, that I know of, who has
mentioned, and settled it in its proper jjlace." It is a rational
belief of the English antiquaries that there was a great British road
from Ricliborough to Canterbury, and thence to London. Csesar's
formidable enemy, Cassivelaunus, had retreated in strong force to
the north bank of the Thames ; and Ctesar speaks of tlie river as
dividing the territories of that chieftain from the maritime states.
If we look upon the map of England, we shall see how direct a
march it was from Canterbury to Oatlands near Walton, without
following the course of the river above London. Crossing at this
place, Cresar would march direct, turning to the north, upon the
capital of Cassivelaunus, — Verulam, or Cassiobury. Our engraving
(Fig. 113) represents the peaceful river gliding amidst low wooded
banks, disturbed only by the slow barge as it is dragged along its
stream. At the bend of tlie river are to tliis hour these celebrated
stakes. They were minutely described in 1735, in a paper read to
the Society of Antiquaries, by Mr. Samuel Gale : "As to the wood
of these stakes, it proves its own antiquity, being by its long
duration under the water so consolidated as to resemble ebony, and
will admit of a polish, and is not in the least rotted. It is evident
from the exterior grain of the wood that the stakes were the entire
bodies of young oak-trees, there not being the least appearance of
any mark of any tool to be seen upon the whole circumference, and
if we allow in our calculation for the gradual increase of growth
towards its end, where fixed in the bed of the river, the stakes, I
think, will exactly answer the thickness of a man's tliigh, as
described by Bede ; but whether they were covered witli lead at the
ends fixed in the bottom of the river, is a particular I could not
learn ; but the last part of Bede's description is certainly just, that
they are immoveable, and remain so to this day.'' Mr. Gale adds,
that since stating that the stakes were immoveable, one had been
weighed up, entire, between two loaded barges, at the time of a
great flood.

Gibson, the editor of Caniden,"confirms the strong belief of his
author that at Coway Stakes was the ford of Caisar, by the following
observations : — " Not far from hence upon the Thames is Walton,
in which parish is a great camp of about twelve acres, single work,
and oblong. There is a road lies through it, and it is probable tliat
Walton takes its name from this remarkable vallum." Mr. Gale,
in his paper in the ' Archaeologia,' mentions " a large Roman encamp-
ment up in the country directly southward, about a mile and a half
distant from the ford, and pointing to it." Here he imagines Caesar
himself entrenched. When we consider that the Romans occupied
Britain for more than four centuries, it is extremely hazardous to
attempt to fix an exact date to any of their works. Encampments
such as these are memorials of defence after defence wliich the
invader threw up against the persevering hostility of the native
tribes, or native defences from which the Britons were driven out.
For ninety-seven years after the second expedition of Cresar, the
country remained at peace with Rome. Augustus (Fig. 117)
threatened an invasion ; but his prudence told him that he could
not enforce the payment of tribute without expensive legions. The
British princes made oblations in the Capitol-; and, according to
Strabo, " rendered almost the whole island intimate and familiar to
the Romans." Cunobelinus (Fig. 121), the Cymbeline of Sliakspere,
was brought up, according to the chroniclers, at the court of
Augustus. Succeeding emperors left the Britons in the quiet
advancement of their civilization, uutil Claudius (Fig. 118) was
stirred up to the hazard of an invasion. In the sonorous prose of
Milton — " He, who waited ready with a huge preparation, as if not
safe enough amidst tlie flower of all his Romans, like a great Eastern
king with armed elephants marches through Gallia. So full of
peril was this enterprise esteemed as not without all this equipage
and stronger terrors than Roman armies, to meet the native and
the naked British valour defending their 30untrj'." (Fig. 1 14.)
The genius of Roman victory inscribed the name of Claudius with
the addition of Britannicus (Fig. 116). The coins of Claudius still
bear the symbols of his British triumphs (Figs. 119, 120). But

the country was not yet wholly won. Then came the glorious
resistance of Caractacus, which Tacitus has immortalized. Then
came the fierce contests between the Roman invaders and the votaries
of the native religion, which the same historian has so glowingly
described in his account of the attack of Suetonius upon the islam!
of Mona : — " On the shore stood a line of very diversified appearance ;
there were armed men in dense array, and women running amid
them like furies, wlio, in gloomy attire, and with loose hair hanging
down, carried torches before tliem. Around were Druids, wlio,
pouring forth curses and lifting up their hands to heaven, struck
terror by the novelty of their appearance into the hearts of the
soldiers, who, as if they had lost the use of their limbs, exposed tliem-
selves motionless to the stroke of the enemy. At last, moved by the
exhortations of their leader, and stimulating one another to despise
a band of women and frantic priests, they make their onset, over-
throw their opponents, and involve them in the flames which they
had themselves kindled. A garrison was afterwards placed among
the vanquished ; and the groves consecrated to their cruel supersti-
tions were cut down." Then came tlie terrible revolt of Boadicea
or Bonduca, — a merciless rising, followed by a bloody revenge.
Beaumont and Fletcher have well dramatized the .spirit of this
heroic woman : —

" Ye powerful goda of Britain, hoar our prayers !
Hear us, ye great revengers 1 and this day
Take pity from our swonls, doubt from our valours ;
Double tlie Siid rememl)ranoe of our wrongs
In every breast ; the vengeance duo to tlieso
Make infinite and endless ! On our pikos
This day palo Terror sit, liorrors and ruins
Upon our executions ; claps of tlmiulcr
Hang on our armed carts ; and 'foro our troops
Despair and Death. Sliame beyond these attend 'era !
Kisc from tlie dust, ye relics of tlie dead,
Wioso uoblo deeds our holy Druids sing :
Oh, rise, yo valiant bones ! let not base earth
Oppress your honours, whilst the pride of Komo
Treads on your stocks, and wipes out all your stories !"

Bonduca.

The Roman dominion in Britain nearly perished in this revolt.
Partial tranquillity was secured, in subsequent years of mildness
and forbearance, towards the conquered tribes. Vespasian extended
the conquests ; Agricola completed them in South Britain. His
possessions in Caledonia were, however, speedily lost. But the
hardy people of the North were driven back in the reign of Anto-
ninus Pius. Then first appeared on the Roman money the graceful
figure of Britannia calmly resting on her shield (Fig. 122), which
seventeen centuries afterwards has been made familiar tc ourselves
in the coined money of our own generation. Let us pause awliile
to view one of the great Roman cities which is held to belong to a
very early period of their dominion in England.

In 1837 a plan was exhibited to the Society of Antiquaries,
reduced from a survey made in 1835, by students of the senior
department of the Royal Military College at Sandhurst, of a portion
of the Roman road from London to Bath. The survey commences
close by Staines ; at which place, near the pillar which marks the
extent of the jurisdiction of the city of London, the line of road is
held to have crossed the Thames. Below Staines, opposite to
Laleham, there are the remains of encampments ; and these again
are in the immediate neighbourhood of the ford at which Caesar
crossed the Thames. All the country here about, then, is full of
associations with the conquerors of tlie world ; and thus, when the
" contemplative man " is throwing his fly or watching his float in
the gentle waters between Staines and Walton, he may here find a
local theme upon wliich his reveries may fruitfully rest. The more
active pedestrian may follow this Roman road, thus recently mapped
out, through populous places and wild solitudes, into a country
little traversed in modern times ; but, like all unhackneyed wa3's,
full of interest to the lover of nature. The course of tlie road leads
over the east end of the beautiful table-land known as Englefield
Green ; then through the yard of the well-known Wheatsheaf Inn,
at Virginia Water ; and, crossing the artificial lake, ascends the
hill, close by the tower called the Belvidere. In Windsor Park
the line is for some time lost ; but it is extremely well defined at a
point near the Sunning Hill road, wliere vast quantities of Roman
pottery and bricks have been discovered. It continues towards
Bagshot, where, at a place called Duke's Hill, its westerly direction
suddenly terminates, and it proceeds considerably to tlie northward.
Here, in 1783, many fragments of Roman pottery were discovered.
The Roman road ascends the plain of Easthampstead, sending out a

CUAP. II. I

OLD ENGLAND.

lateral branch which runs close to well-known places within the
ancient limits of Windsor Forest, called Wickliam Uunhes and
Caisar's Camp. We remember this vast sandy region before it wb»
covered with fir plantations ; and in these solitary hil's, where the
cyii for miles could rest upon nothing but barren heath, we have
hstuned with the wonder of boyhood to the vague traditions of piist
ages, in which the marvels of liislory are made more marvellous.
Caesar's Camp is thus described by Mr. Ilandasyd, in a letter to the
Society of Antiquaries, in 1783: — "At the extremity of a long
range of hills is situated a large camp, known by the name of
Csesar's Camp, which is but slightly noticed by Dr. Stukeley, nor is
any iiarticuiar mention made of it in any account I have hitherto
seen. In it is a hollow, wiiicli has a thick layer of coarse gravel
all round it, and seems to have been made to contain rain water.
At not half a mile from the camp stand a vast number of thorn
bushes, some of a very large size (known by the name of Wickham
JJiislies), bearing on their ragged branches aird large cotrtortcd stems
evident marks of extreme age, yet iir all probability these are but
the sirccessors of a race long since extiirct. The inhabitants of the
nciglibourhood have a tradition thot hero formerly stood a town,
but that Julius Caisar, whom they magnify to a giant (for stories
lose nothing by telling), with his associates laying the couirtry
waste, the poor inhabitants were obliged to fly, and seek atr asylum
in tlie valley bencallr." As we proceed alorrg the road appr-oachiiig
Fincliliampstead, we frnd lire object of our search, sometiiries easily
traced and soinetiirres continuously lost, bearing the rrame of the
Devil's Highway. At length the line crosses the Loddon, at the
nortliern extremity of Stratlifiehlsaye (Strathfield beirrg the field of
tlie Strat, Street, or Road), tJie estate which a grateful nation
bestowed upon the Duke of Wellington ; through wlriclr park it
passes till it terrnirrates at the parislr church of Silchester. Tliis
is the line which the students of the Military College surveyed.*
The survey has gorre far to establish two disputed points — the
situatioir of the Roman Pontes, and whether Silchester should be
identified with Vindonum or Calleva. A very able correspondeirt
of the Society of Antiquaries, Mr. Kernpe, thus ol)serves upon the
value of the labours of tire students of the Military College : — " The
survey has effected a material correction of Horsley, for it shows
tiiat the statioir Pontes, which he places at Old Windsor, and for
wliich so nrany diflferent places have been assigned by the learned
'..r Romair topography, nrust have betn where the Roman road

from London crossed the Thanres at Staines

The line of road presents no place for the chief city of the
Attrebates until it arrives at the walls of Silchester. Is this, then,
really the Calleva Attrebatum ? The distance between Pontes and
Calleva, according to the Itinerary [of Antoninus], is twenty-two
miles; by the Survey, the distance between Staines and Silchester
is twenty-six ; a cotrformity as near as can be required, for neither
tire lengtlr of the Roman mile nor the mode of measuring it agreed
precisely with ours." Having led our reader to tire eastern
entrance of this ancient city, we will endeavour to describe what he
will firrd there to reward his pilgrimage. Let us tell him, however,
litat he may reach Silchester by arr easier route than over the
straiglrt line of the Eomair Higliway. It is about seven nriles
from Basingstoke, and terr from Reading : to either of which
places he nray move rapidly from London, by the South Western
or tire Great Western Railway.

If we have walked dreamingly along the narrow lanes whose
liedge-rows shut out any distant prospect, we may be under the
I astern walls of Silchester before we are aware that any remarkable
(.bject is in our neighbortrhood. We see at length a church, and
we ascend a pretty steep bank to reach the churchyard. The
churchyard wall is something very different from ordinary walls — a
thick mass of mortar and stone, through which a waj' seems to have
l)een forced to give room for the little gates that admit us to the
region of grassy graves. A quiet spot is this churchyard ; and we
wonder where the tenants of the sod have come from. There is
one sole farmhouse near the church ; an ancient farmhouse with
gabled roofs that tell of old days of comfort and hospitality. The
cliurch, too, is a building of interest, because of some antiquity ;
i'ud there are in the churchyard two very ancient Christian tomb-
stones of chivalrous times, when the sword, strange contradiction,
Has an emblem of tlie cross. But these are modern things compared
\\ ith the remains of which we are in search. We pass through the
( luirchyard into an open space, where the farmer's ricks tell of the
iibundance of recent cultivation. These may call to our mind the

" An account of tliis survey is very clearly given In tho ' United Service
J(i\imal ' for January, 1836. Ivnowing sometliing of tho countr)-, wo have
reversed tho order of that description, Icadmg our readers from Stuiries to Sil-
chester, instead of from Silchrater to Stoinea

•tory which Camden ha« told :— " On the ground whereon thU city
was built (I »|)«ak in Nennius'* word.) the Kmperor ConKtanUtM
sowed three grains of corn, that no petMO inhabiting Omn migbt
ever be poor." We look around, and we wk the bwy tliaidMn
of the ricks where are the old walU ; for we can aae nothing bat
extensive corn fieldii, bounded by a wmewhat higher bank than
ordinary,— that bank luxuriant with oak, and ash, and ipriiiging
underwood. Tho farm kbourera know what we are in ««areli of
and they ask m if we want to buy any coin*— for whenever the'
heavy rains fall they find coins— end they liave coin*, a< they lia*e
been told, of Romulus and Beniua, and tbi* wai a great place a long
while ago. It U a tribute to the greiUneM of the place that to
whomsoever we spoke of these walU and the area within the walla,
they called it the cily. Here wan a city, of one church and one
farmhouse. The people who went to that church lived a mile or
two off in their scattered hanileti. Silence reigne<! in tliat city.
The ploughs and »pade« of «ucces»ivc generations had gone over its
ruitrs ; but its memory still live<l in trarlition ; it was an object to
be venerated. There was >onrelhitrg mysterious about this area of
a hundred acres, that rendered it very different to the ploughman's
eye from a common hundre<l acres. Put the plough deep as be
would, manure the land with every care of the unfertile »p«U, the
crop was not like other crops. He knew not that old Ix-hind, three
hundred years ago, had written, " There is one strange thing seen
there, that in certain jrarfs of the ground within the walls the com
is marvellous fair to the eye, and, ready to show perfeclure, it
decayeth." Ho knew not that a hundred years afterwards another
antiquary had written, " The inhabitants of the place told me it had
been a constant obscrvatioit amongst them, that though the soil here
is fat aird fertile, yet in a sort of baulks that cro!>s one another the
corn never grows so thick as in other parU of the field " (Canuh n).
He knew from his own experience, and tlrat was enough, that wlien
the crop came up there were liites and cross lines from one side of
the wliole area witlrin the walls to the other side, which seemed to
tell that where the litres rair the corn would not freely grow. The
lines were mapped out about the year 1745. The nap is in the
Kiirg's Library in the British Museum. The plan which we have
given (Fig. 125) does not much vary from the Museum map, which
is fouirded on actual survey. There can be no doubt that the
country-people of Camden's time were right witii regard to these
" baulks that cross one another." He says, " Along these they
believe the streets of the old city to have run." Camden tells us
further of the country-people, " Tliey very frcqrrently dig up British
[Roman] tiles, and great plenty of Roman coins, which they call
Oirioir pennies, from one Onion, whom they foolishly faircy to have
been a giant, and an inhabitant of tlris city." Speaking of the area
within tlie walls, he says, " By the rubbish and ruins the earth is
grown so high, that I could scarcely thrust myself through a pasMge
which they call Onioir's Hole, though I stooped very low." The
fancy of the foolish people about a giant has been borne out by
matters of which Camden makes no mention. "Nennius ascribe*
the foundation of Silchester to Constantius, the son of Constantino
the Great. Whatever improvements he might have made in its
buildings or defences, I caimot but think it had a much earlier
origirr : as tlie chief fastness or forest stronghold of the Segontiaci,
it probably existed at the time of Csesar's expedition into Britain.
The anonymous geographer of Ravenna gfives it a name which I
have not yet noticed, Ard-oneo/i ; this is a pure British compound,
and may be read Ardal- Onion, the region of Einion, or Onion"
(' Archeelogia,' 1837). It is thus here, as in many other cases, that
when learning, dcspisiirg tradition and common opinion, runs its owu
little circle, it returirs to the point from which it set out, and being
inclined to break its bounds finds the foolish fancies which it has
despised nut always uirsafe, and certainly not uninteresting, guide*
through a more varied region.

By a broader way than Onion's Hole we will get without the
walls of Silchester. There is a pretty direct line of road through
the farm from east to west, which nearly follows the course of one
of the old streets. Let us descend the broken bank at the point a
(Fig. 125.) We are now under the south-western wall. As we
advance in a northerly direction, the walls become more distinctly
associated with the whole character of the scene. Cultivation here
has not chatrged the aspect which this solitary place has worn for
centuries. We are in a broad glade, sloping down to a ditch or
little rivulet, with a bold bank on the outer side. We are in the
fosse of the city, with an interval of some fifly or sixty feet betweec
the walls and the vallitra. The grass of this glade is of the rankest
luxuriance. The walls, sometinres entirely hidden by bramble and
ivy, — sonretimes bare, and exhibiting their peculiar construction, —
sometimes fallen in great masses, forced down by the roots of

ri44.— Hadrian
From a Coppci Coin in ttat British Museum.

143.-OId Walls of Rome.

139.— Rjstoralion of the Eoman Arch fonning Kewport Gate, Lincoln

146. — Antoninus Pius.
From a Copper Coin in the British Aluseum,

140.— Roman Arch forming Newport Gate Lincoln, as it appeared in 1792,

141,— Remains of a Roman Hypocaust, or Subterranean Fumare, for Keating Baths, at Lincoln.

14^.— Ancient Arch on Road leading into Rome.

147— Copper Coin of Antoninus Pius, commemorative of his
-^ victories In Britain, from one in the British Museum.

• 40

\\ aL and Ditcli of Sererij^.

/forth. S,

138.— Profile of tue Roman Wall and Vallum, near tht South Agger Port Gcte

Scctizi x.i\ \v_:. ,1 .-;^jveru5.

Wall and Ditcn of Severus.

U8.— Part of a Roman Wall ; Ui« Site of tho Ancient VernUus, near St. Alban'i.

I«f ^Fkrt a( Ibt BaMB WiU aT

ISO.— London Stone.

191.— Dontocbei BtU|e.

162.— Bronze i'ateri. View 1.

FMsm. VltwX

193.— Bracic rater*. View 2.

156.-^8 of Lead, iriHi tin Bemin Stamp.

No. 0.

1 1 MP H.-.:

I^ jl^

C0NIVERECv4)IvnLAEyND

.m.-F% af Lai. vM Iki I

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book I.

mighty trees, which have sliared the ruin that they precipitated, —
sometimes with a gnarled oak actually growing out of their tops, —
present such a combination of picturesqueness as no pencil can
reach, because it can only deal with fragments of the great mass.
The desolation of the place is the most impressive thing that ever
smote cvx minds with a new emotion. "We seem alone in the world ;
we are here amidst tlie wreclis of ages ; tribes, whose names and
localities are matters of controversy, have lived here before the
Bomans, for the Romans did not form their cities upon such a plan.
The Romans have come here, and have mixed with the native
people. Inscriptions have been found here : one dedicated to the
Hercules of the Segontiaci, showing that this place was the Caer
Segont of tlie Britons ; another in honour of Julia Domna, the
second wife of the Emperor Severus. Splendid baths have been
-dug up within the walls : there are the distinct remains of a forum
■and a temple. In one spot so much coin has been found, that tiie
jplace goes by the name of Silver Hill. The city was the third
of British towns in extent. Tliere is an amphitheatre still existing
on the nortii-eastern side of the wall, which tells us that here the
amusements of ancient Rome were exhibited to the people. History
records that liere the Roman suldiers forced the imperial purple
upon Constantine, the rival of Honorius. The monkish chroniclers
report that in this city was King Arthur inaugurated. And here,
in the nineteenth century, in a country thickly populated, — more
abundant in riches, fuller of energy than at any other period, —
intersected with roads in all directions, — lies this Silchester, which
• once had its direct communications with London, with Winchester,
■with Old Sarum, the capital doubtless of a great district, — here it
■lies, its houses and its temples probably destroyed by man, but its
walls only slowly yielding to that power of vegetable nature which
works as surely for destruction as the fire and sword, and topples
down in the course of centuries what man has presumed to build
for unlimited duration, neglected, unknown, almost a solitary place
amidst thick woods and bare heaths. It is an ingenious theory
which derives the supposed Roman name of this place from the
great characteristic of it which still remains: "The term Galleva,
or Calleva, of the Roman Itineraries, appears to have had the same
source, and was but a softened form of the British Gual Vawr, or
the Great "Wall ; both names had their root perhaps in the Greek
\aXii (silex), whence also the French ^^/lillon (a pebble). Sile-
chester or Silchester is therefore but a Saxonizing, to use the term,
of Silicis Castnim, the Fortress of the Flint or Wall, by the easy
metonymy wiiich I have shown." (' Archaeologia,' 1837.) The
striking characteristic of Silchester is the ruined wall, with the
flourishing trees upon it and around it, and the old trees that have
^rown up centuries ago, and are now perishing with it. This is the
poetry of the place, and the old topographers felt it after their
honest fashion. Leland says, " On that wall grow some oaks of ten
cart-load the piece." Camden says, " The walls remain in good
measure entire, only with some few gaps in those places where the
gates have been ; and out of those walls there grow oaks of such a
vast bigness incorporated as it were with the stones, and their roots
.-and boughs are spread so far around, that they raise admiration in
all who behold them." (Fig. 124.)

" High towns, fair temples, goodly theatres,
Strong walls, rich porches, princely palaces,
Large streets, brave houses, sacred sepulchres,
Sure gates, sweet gardens, stately galleries.
Wrought with fair pillars and fine imageries " —

ye are fallen. Fire has consumed you ; earth is heaped upon you ;
the sapling oak has sprung out of the ashes of your breathino-
statues and your votive urns, and having flourished for five hundred
years, other saplings have rooted themselves in your ruins for

another five hundred years, and again other saplings are risinn^

so to flourish and so to perish. Time, which has destroyed thee,
Silchester, clothes thee with beauty. " Time loves thee :"

" He, gentlest among the thralls
Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid
His lenient touches."

Mr. John Rickman, speaking of Silchester, " the third of British
towns in extent," says, " that the Romanized inhabitants of the last-
named town were distinguished by their cultivated taste, is testified
by the amphitheatre outside the walls, one of the few undisputed
relics of that kind in Britain." (' Arcliseologia,' vol. xxviii.)
Whether the presence of the inhabitants of Silchester at the brutal
games of the Romans be any proof of their cultivated taste may be
'easonably questioned ; but the existence of the amphitheatre is an
evidence that the Roman customs were here established, and that
♦he people had become habituated to them. The amphitheatre at

Silchester is situated without the walls, to the north-east. There
can be no doubt about the form and construction of this relic of
antiquity. We stand upon a steep circular bank covered with
trees, and descend by its sloping sides into an area of moderate
dimensions. Some describers of this place tell us that the seats
were ranged in five rows, one above the other. Earlier, and
perhaps more accurate observers, doubt whether seats were at all
used in these turfy amphitlieatres. " It is well known that the
Romans originally stood at games, till luxurj' introduced sitting ;
and it is observable, that the Castrensian amphitheatres in general
preserve no signs of subsellia, or seats ; so that the people must
have stood on the grassy declivity. I saw no signs of seats in that
of Carleon, nor in the more perfect one near Dorchester, as Stukeley
has also observed. Nor do I recollect that any sucii have been dis-
covered in any other Castrensian amphitheatre, at least in our island,
where they seem to have been rather numerous." (Mr. Strange, in
' Archaeologia,' vol. v.) The very perfect amphitheatre at Dorchester
is much larger than that of Silchester, Stukeley having computed
that it was capable of containing twenty-three thousand people.
The form, however, of both ampliitheatres is precisely similar
(Fig. 126). Their construction was different. The bank of the
amphitheatre at Silchester is composed of clay and gravel ; that at
Dorchester of blocks of solid chalk. These were rude structures
compared with the amphitheatres of those provinces of Rome which
had become completely Romanized. Where the vast buildings of
this description were finished with architectural magnificence, the
most luxurious accommodation was provided for all ranks of the
people. Greece and Britain exhibit no remains of these grander
amphitheatres, such as are found at Nismes and at Verona. The
amphitheatre of Pompeii, though of larger dimensions than the
largest in England, Dorchester, appears to have been constructed
upon nearly the same plan as that (Fig. 12W.) Some bas-reliefs
found at Pompeii indicate the nature of the amusements that once
made the woods of Silchester ring with the bowlings of infuriated
beasts and the shouts of barbarous men (Fig. 127).

The Roman Wall— the Wall of Agricola— the Wall of Hadrian—
the Wall of Severus — the Picts' Wall — the Wall, are various names
by which the remains of a mighty monument of the Romans in
England are called by various writers. William Hutton, the
liveliest and the least pedantic of antiquarians, wlio at seventy-eight
years of age twice traversed the whole length of the Roman Wall,
denominates it " one of the grandest works of liuman labour,
performed by the greatest nation upon earth." From a point on
the river Tyne, between Newcastle and North Shields, to Boulness
on the Solway Frith, a distance of nearly eighty miles, have the
remains of this wall been distinctly traced. It was the great
artificial boundary of Roman England from sea to sea ; a barrier
raised against the irruptions of the fierce and unconquerable race
of the Caledonians upon the fertile South, which had received the
Roman yoke, and rested in safety under the Roman military pro-
tection. The Wall, speaking popularly, consists of three distinct
works, which by some are ascribed to the successive operations of
Agricola, of Hadrian (Figs. 144, 145), and of Severus. The Wall
of Antoninus (Figs. 146, 147), now called Grimes Dyke, was a
more northerly intrenchment, extending from the Clyde to the
Forth ; but this rampart was abandoned during subsequent years of
the Roman occupation, and the boundary between the Solway Frith
and the German Ocean, which we are now describing, was strength-
ened and perfected by every exertion of labour and skill. Hutton
may probably have assigned particular portions of the work to
particular periods upon insufficient evidence, but he has described
the works as they appeared forty years ago better than any other
writer, because he described from actual observation. We shall,
therefore, adopt his general account of the wall, before proceeding
to notice any remarkable features of this monument.

" There were four different works in this grand barrier, performed
by three personages, and at different periods. I will measure them
from south to north, describe them distinctly, and appropriate each
part to its proprietor; for, although every part is dreadfully
mutilated, yet, by selecting the best of each, we easily fonn a
whole ; from what is, we can nearly tell what was. We must take
our dimensions from the original surface of the ground.

" Let us suppose a ditch, like that at the foot of a quickset-hedge,
three or four feet deep, and as wide. A bank rising from it ten
feet high, and thirty wide in the base ; this, with the ditch, will
give us a rise of thirteen feet at least. The other side of the bank
sinks into a ditch ten feet deep, and fifteen wide, which gives the
north side of this bank a declivity of twenty feet. A small part
of the soil thrown out f n the north side of this fifteen-feet ditch,

Chap. II.J

OLD ENGLAND.

forms a bank three feet higli and six wide, which g^ves an elevatiou
from tlie bottom of the ditch of thirteen feet. Thiu our two
ditches and two mounds, sutficient to IvCep out every rogue Imt he
who was determined not to be Icept out, were the worit of Agricola.

" Tlie woriis of Hadrian invariably join tliose of Agricola. They
always correspond together, as beautiful parallel lines. Cloue to
tlie nortli si<le of the little bank I last describeil, Hadrian sunk a
ditch twenty-four feet wide, and twelve below the surface of the
ground, which, added to Agricola's three-feet bank, forms a declivity
of fifteen feet on the south, and on the north twelve. Then follows
a plain of level ground, twenty-four yards over, and a bank exactly
the same as Agricola's, ten feet high, and thirty in the liaso ; and
then he finishes, aa his predecessor began, with a small ditch of
three or four feet.

" Thus the two works exactly coincide ; and must, when complete,
have been most grand and beautiful. Agricola's works cover about
fifty-two feet, and Hadrian's about eighty-one; but this will admit
of some variation.

" Severus's works run nearly parallel with the other two ; lie on
the UQi'th, never far distant ; but may be said always to keep them
in view, running a course that best suited the judgment of the
maker. The nearest distance is about twenty yards, and greatest
near a mile ; the medium, forty or fifty yards.

"They consist of a stone wall eight feet thick, twelve high, and
f3ur the battlements ; with a ditch to the north, as near as
convenient, thirty-six fe^et wide and fifteen deep. To the wall
were added, at unequal distances, a number of stations, or cities,
said to be eigliteen, which is not perfectly true ; eighty-one castles,
and three hundred and thirty castelets, oi turrets, which, I believe,
is true : all joining the wall.

" Exclusive of this wall and ditch, these stations, castles, and
turrets, Severus constituted a variety of roads, yet called Roman
roads, twenty-four feet wide, and eighteen inches high in the centre,
which led from turret to turret, from one castle to another ; and
still larger and more distant roads from the wall, which led from
one station to another, besides the grand military way before
mentioned, which covered all the works, and no doubt was first
formed by Agricola, improved by Hadrian, and, after lying dormant
fifteen hundred years, was made complete in 1752.

"I saw many of these smaller roads, all overgrown with turf;
and when on the side of a hill, they are supported on the lower sidfr
with edging stones.

" Thus Agricola formed a small ditch, then a bank and ditch,
both large, and then finished with a small bank.

" Hadrian joined to this small bank a large ditch, then a plain, a
large mound, and then finished with a small ditch.

" Severus followed nearly in the same line, with a wall, a variety
of stations, castles, turrets, a large ditch, and many roads. By much
the most laborious task. This forms the whole works of our three
renowned chiefs."

Eleven hundred years before the persevering Ilutton began his
toilsome march along the Roman Wall, Bede had described it as

" still famous and to be seen eight foot in breadth and

twelve in height, in a straight line from east to west, as is still
visible to the beholders." Bede resided in the neighbourhood of
the Wall, and he notices it as a familiar object would naturally be
noticed — as incidental to his narrative. The dimensions which he
gives are, however, perfectly accurate, as Gibson has pointed out.
Long before Bede noticed the Wall the Romans had quitted .ne
country ; and this great barrier was insufficient to protect the timid
inliabitants of the South against the attacks of their Northern
invaders, " who, finding that the old confederates were marched
home, and refused to return any more, put on greater boldness than
ever, and possessed themselves of all the North, and the remote
parts of the kingdom to the very Wall. To withstand this invasion
the towers are defended l)y a lazy garrison, undiscipliiie«l, and too
cowardly to engage an enemy, being enfeebled with continual sloth
and idleness. In the meanwhile the naked enemy advance with
their hooked weapons, by which the miserable Britons are pulled
down from the tops of the walls and dashed against the ground."
This is the description of Gildas, our most ancient historian, wlio
lived in the sixth century. Generations passed away ; new races
grew up on each side of the Wall ; and there, for another long
period of strife, was the great scene of the Border fends between the
English and the Scotch. It is no wonder that the traces of the Wall
in many places should be almost obliterated ; or that the fair cities
and populous stations which, under the Roman dominion, existed
along its line, should liave left only fragmentary remains of their
former greatness. And j'et these remains are most remarkable.
Huusesteads, which is about the centre of the work, is held to

liave been the eighth station, BorcorieiM: ud the tngmmtt of
antiquity here discovered have commanded the admirmtion of all
antiquarian explorers. GibM>n, who surveyed a portioo of Um
Wall in no8, here saw seven or dKlit lUmiui alun which li«l
been recently dug up, and a great number of statues. Aleui<dei
Gordon, whose ♦ Itinerorium Septentrionale '»a» publi«hMl in 1720,
describes House-steads, " so named from the marks of (;ld lUnumn
buildings still appearing on that ground," as " uiiqueiiioiiably tJio
most remarkable and magnificent Roman station in tlie Mliole island
of Britain." He says, amidst his minute descriptions of statues and
altars, " It is hardly credible what a number of august remains of ibe
Roman grandeur is to be seen here to this day ; seeing in every plaeo
where one casts his eye there is some curious lioman antiquity to b*
seen, either the marks of streets and temple* in ruins, or inscriptions^
broken pillars, statues, and other piece* of sculpture, alt scattered
along this groimd." When Huttun surrej-ed the Wall, be founri
one solitary house upon the site of the Roman City ; and in thb lune
dwelling a Roman altar, complete as in the day the workman lefi it,
formed the jamb which snj)ported the manteUpieoe, " one solid atone,
four feet high, two broad, and one thick." Tlie gossiping antiquary
grows rhetorical amidtt the remains of Dorcovicus: — " It iji not easy
to survey these important ruins without a sigh ; a place once of the
greatest activity, but now a solitary desert: instead of the human
voice is heord nothing but the wind." .Some of the Matuc-s uui
inscriptions found at House-steads and other jiartsof the Roman Wall
now form a portion of the beautiful collection of Roman antiquities
in the Newcastle Museum (Figs. 133, 134, 136, and 136). Of
these the Roman soldiers and the Victory arc rudely engraved
in Gordon's book. The appearance of the Wall at Houne-steails is
siiown in Fig. 132 ; and this engraving suggests a conviction of the
accuracy of Camden's description of the Wall : — " I have observed
the track of it running up the mountains and down again in a most
surprising manner." The massive character of the works is well
exliibite<l at the sandstone-quarries at Denton Dean, where tbe
wall, whose fragment is five feet high, has only three coursea of
facing-stones on one side and four on the other. Blocks of
stone of such dimensions must of themselves liave formed a quarry
for successive generations to hew at and destroy (Fig. 131).
There is a pretty tradition recorded by Camden, which offers as
good evidence of the Roman civiliz.-ition as the fragments of their
temples and their statues. The tomb of a young Roman physidao
is amongst the antiquities of the Newcastle Museum ; and our old
topographer tells us, "One thing there is which I will not keep
from tlie reader, because I had it confirmed by persons of very good
credit. There is a general persuasion in the neighbourhood, banded
down by tradition, that the Roman garrisons upon the frontiers set
in these parts abundance of medicinal plants for their own use.
Whereupon the Scotch surgeons come hither a-simpling every year
in the beginning of summer ; and having by long cx(>erience found
the virtue of these plants, they magnify them very much, and affirm
them to be very sovereign." The general appearance of the Roman
Wall and Vallum is exhibited in Fig. 138. This was delineated by
John Warburton, from a portion of the wall near Halton-Cbesters,
in 1722. A little farther beyond this point Ilutton was well repaid
for his laborious walk of six hundred miles, by such a satisfactory
view of the great Roman work, that the admiration of the g^ood old
man was raised into an enthusiastic transport, at which the dull
may wonder, and the unimaginative may laugh, but which bad its
own reward. With this burst of the happy wayfarer we conclude
our notice of " that famous wall which was the boundary of the
Roman province." " I now travel over a large common, still upon
the Wall, with its trench nearly complete. But what was my
surprise when I beheld, thirty yards on my left, the united worka
of Agricola and Hadrian, almost perfect ! I climbed over a stone
wall to examine the wonder ; measured the whole in every direction ;
surveyed them with surprise, with delight ; was fascinated, and
unable to proceed ; forgot I was upon a wild common, a stranger,
and the evening approaching. I had the grandest works under my
eye of the greatest men of the age in which they lived, and of the
most eminent nation then existing ; all which had suffered but little
during the long course of sixteen hundred year*. Even hunger
and fatigue were lost in the grandeur before me. If a man write*
a book upon a turnpike-road, he cannot be expected to move quick ;
but, lost in astonishment, I was not able to move at all."

The Wall of Antoninus, or Grimes Dyke, to which we bavo
already referred, was carried across the north of Britain, under the
direction of Lollius Urbicus, the legate of Antoninus Piu,», about
the year a. d. 140. It is noticed by an ancient Roman writer a*
a turf wall ; and although its course may be readily traced, it has,
from the nature of its ccnstruction, not lefl such enduring i

G 2

B M y(m

ANO-rE£f-H j

THE ^iiJ^^^ifc^^^^^^'i^l

158.— riim of I^oman London,

h^"

159.— Roman Batb, Strand Lane.

165.— Coin and Fragiueat. i

160.— Sepulchral Stoae found at Ludgate.'

161.— Tenellaled raTcment.

162.— Bronze Statues found in the Thames.

~ j-'V-7 ^.

163.— Vases, Lamps, &c,, lound after tbe Great Fue

162.— Koman Antiquities luood m tbe Site of St. Faol's Cioast

4CC.— Uriuf, Va^t^, '..' j , ... ..vi, ojid Fragment of rottei^% found lii LumbarU Street lldV.

Bronzo Spear ITcad. ,
liruiize Daggsr. j

Iron Knife.
Bronzo Lance-}(ea(].
Iron I^once-Hcad.
Celt.

Bronze IjinccWIttail
Bronze Gvlt.
Ivory Arronslfoid
Iron Boss 0/ a StiiL-'d.
Bronze Buckle,
Iron Crook
Iron Ring.
Plated Iroa Stud.
Bronze Pin.

\ Bronzo Pins with Ivory II.iiid:e».
\ Bronze OrnameDts.

M laniH
21 GuU Boa

" I UaU OrTumnliL

It Ambet mnd IVvt N«kUoiL

tt U«U1 nwMltiUn.

34 Palxra.

JT iTorjr Brv'kt.

n iMnUi^ Cup.

2> locctiM C'a|>.

SI DiUkk^Ctft.

^}DaiM«.I)(Wdi«Cip'.

n DraUtal Bo* to (MkMtee*

168.— RomaD-BriUab Weapona, Onamenla, tc.

Ifti).— Konum Vessels, 8k., lound in Britain.

ITl. — MetAl coating of an ancient Roman-British Shield, found iu the be^
•f tha riTer Wttham, and now in tte Mejiisk CoUeclioo.

ITS.— Brittah Coin at Caranslus
From a anifiu Oold Coin in Um Btitiah

Fran a uou (;oia u uk ur.u>ti Ma

OLD ENGLAND.

I Book I.

as the Wall of Sevenis. The Wall of Antoninus connected a line
of Roman forts; and these were necessarily built of substantial
materials, Duntocher Bridge, on the line of this wall, was long
popularly considered to have been a Eoman work ; but it has been
more reasonably conjectured to have been a very ancient work,
constructed out of materials found on the line of the wall (Fig. 148).
The military way in some places runs parallel with Grimes Dyke.
The ditch itself presents in some places a wonderful example of the
Roman boldness in engineering. At a part called Bar Hill, Gordon
describes " the fossa running down m a straight line from the top
of tiie hill in such a magnificent manner as must surprise the
beholder, great part of it being cut tlirough the solid rock, and is
of such a vast breadth and depth, that when I measured it it was no
less than forty feet broad and thirty-five feet deep." The surprise
of Mr. Gordon was before the age of railways : the time may
perhaps arrive when the deep cuttings and tunnellings through the
solid rock in the nineteenth century shall be compared with the
Eoman works of the second century, by new races of men who
travel by other lines or with different mechanism. But, however
obscure may then be the history of our own works, it is quite
certain that we shall have left our traces upon the earth ; some con-
solation, though small, to balance the reflections which are naturally
suggested «hen we look upon the ruins of populous cities and
mighty defences, and consider how little we know of their origin,
of the people who built them, and of the individual life that was once
busy in these solitary places.

We have described, rapidly and imperfectly, some ancient places
now buried in deep solitude, which were once filled with many
people who pursued the ordinary occupations of human industry,
and who were surrounded with the securities, comforts, and elegan-
cies of social life. Great changes have necessarily been produced
in the revolution of two thousand years. Hume, in his ' Essay of the
Populousness of Ancient Nations,' says, " The barbarous condition
of Britain in former times is well known, and the thinness of its
inhabitants may easily be conjectured, both from their barbarity,
and from a circumstance mentioned by Herodian, that all Britain
was marshy, even in Severus's time, after the Eomans had been
fully settled in it above a century." In process of time the marshes
were drained ; the population of the hills, as in the case of Old
Sarum, descended into the plains. The advantages of communi-
cation located towns upon the banks of rivers, which were restrained
within deep channels by artificial bounds. London thus grew
when the 'Ihames was walled out of the lowlands. So probably
York, when the Ouse became tributary to man, instead of being a
pestilent enemy. AVhen the civilizers taught the original inhabit-
ants to subdue the powers of nature to their use, the sites of great
towns were fixeo, and have remained fixed even to our own day, in
consequence of those natural advantages which have continued
unimpaired during the changes of centuries. Tiie Romans were
the noblest of colonizers. Tiiey did not make their own country
rich by tlie exiiauslive process which has been the curse of modern
wlonization. They taught the people their own useful arts, and
ney shared the riches which tiiey had been the instruments of
producing, Tiiey distributed amongst subdued nations their own
refinements ; and in the cultivation of the higher tastes they found
that security whicli could never have resulted from the coercion of
brutal ignorance. Tacitus says of Agricola, tlie great colonizer of
England, "That the Britons, who led a roaming and unsettled
life, and were easily instigated to war, might contract a love of
peace and tranquillity by being accustomed to a more pleasant
way of living, he exhorted and assisted them to build houses
temples, courts, and market-places. By praising the diligent,
and reproaching the indolent, he excited so great an emulation
amongst the Britons, that after they had erected all .those necessary
edifices in their towns, they proceeded to build others merely for
ornament and pleasure, such as porticoes, galleries, batlis, banqnet-
ing-houses, &c." Many of the still prosperous places of England,
even at the present day, show us what the Eomans generally, if not
especially Agricola, did for the advancement of the arts of life
amongst our remote forefathers. Lincoln is one of these cities
of far-off antiquity — a British, a Eoman, a Saxon city. Leland
says, " I lieard say that the lower part of Lincoln town was all
marsh, and won by policy, and inhabited for the commodity of the
water. ... It is easy to be perceived that the town of Lincoln
hath been notably builded at three times. The first uilding was
on the very top of the hill, the oldest part whereof inhabited in
the Britons' time was the norlhest part of the hill, directly without
Newport gate, the ditclies whereof yet remain, and great tokens of
the old town-walls taken out of a ditch by it, for all the top of

Lincoln Hill is quarry-ground. This is now a suburb to Newport
Gate." And there at Lincoln stills stands Newport Gate — the
Eoman gate, — formed by a plain square pier and a semicircular
arch (Figs. 139, 140). The Eoman walls and the Eoman arches
of Lincoln are monuments of the same great people that we find at
Eome itself (Figs. 142, 143). At Lincoln too are the remains of
such baths as Agricola taught tiie Britons to build (Fig. 141),
Tlie Newport Gate of Lincoln, though half filled up by the eleva-
tion of the soil, exhibits a central arch sixteen feet wide, with two
lateral arches. Within the area of the Eoman walls now stand the
Cathedral and the Castle, monuments equally interesting of other
times and circumstances. At Lincoln, as at all other ancient
places, we can trace the abodes of the living in the receptacles for
the dead. The sarcophagi, the stone coflSns, and the funereal urns
here found, tell of the people of diflferent ages and creeds mingled
now in their common dust.

A fragment of Eoman wall still proclaims the site of the ancient
Verulam (Fig. 149). Camden says, "The situation of this
place is well known to have been close by the town of St. Albans.
.... Nor hath it yet lost its ancient name, for it is still com-
monly called Verulam ; although nothing of that remains besides
ruins of walls, chequered pavements, and Eoman coins, which
they now and then dig up." The fame of the Roman Verulam
was merged in the honours of the Christian St. Albans ; and the
bricks of the old city were worked up into the church of the proto-
martyr of England. Bede tells the story of the death of St. Alban,
the first victim in Britain of the persecution of Diocletian, in the
third century, with a graphic power which brings the natural
features of this locality full before our view : " The most reverend
confessor of God ascended the hill with the throng, the which
decently pleasant agreeable place is almost five hundred paces from
the river, embellished with several sorts of flowers, or rather quite
covered with them ; wherein there is no part upright, or steep, nor
anything craggy, but the sides stretching out far about, is levelled
by nature like the sea, which of old it had rendered worthy to be
enriched with the martyr's blood for its beautiful appearance."

" Thus was Alban tried,
England's first martyr, whom no threats could shake :
Self-offered victim, for his friend he died.
And for the faith — nor shall his name forsake
That Hill, whose flowery platform seems to rise
By Nature decked for holiest sacrifice."

WOEDSWOEin.

In the time of Aubrey, some half-century later than that of
Camden, there were " to be seen in some few places some remains
of the walls of this city." Speaking of Lord Bacon, Aubrey says,
" Within the bounds of the walls of this old city of Verulam (his
lordship's barony) was Verulam House, about a half mile from St.
Alban's, which his lordship built, the most ingeniously-contrived
little pile that ever I saw." It was here that Bacon, freed,
however dishonourably, from the miserable intrigues of Whitehall,
and the debasing quirks and quibbles of the Courts, laid the
foundations of his ever-during fame. Aubrey tells us a story which
is characteristic of Bacon's enthusiastic temperament : — " This
magnanimous Lord Chancellor had a great mind to have made it
[Verulam] a city again ; and he had designed it to be built with
great uniformity ; but fortune denied it to Iiim, though she proved
kinder to the great Cardinal Richelieu, who lived both to design
and finish that specious town of Richelieu, where he was born,
before an obscure and small village." Fortune not only denied
Bacon to found this city, but even the " ingeniously-contrived little
pile," his gardens, and his banqueting-houses, which he had built
at an enormous cost, were swept away within thirty years after his
death : " Que would have thought," says Aubrey, " the most bar-
barous nation had made a conquest here." To use the words of
the philosopher of Verulam himself, " It is not good to look too
long upon these turning wheels of Vicissitude, lest we become
giddy."

York, the Eboracum of the Romans, was one of the most im-
portant of these British cities. Its Eoman remains have very
recently been described by a learned resident of this city : — " One
of the angle-towers, and a portion of the wall of Eboracum attached
to it, are to tliis day remaining in an extraordinary state of pre-
servation. In a recent removal of a considerable part of the more
modern wall and rampart, a much larger portion of the Eoman
wall, connected with the same angle-tower, but in another direction,
with remains of two wall-towers, and the foundations of one of the
gates of the station, were found buried within the ramparts ; and
excavations at various times and in different parts of the present
city have discovered so many indubitable remains of the fortification!

Chap. II.]

OLD ENGLAND.

of Eborapiim, on throo of its sides, that tlic conclusion appears to
be fullv warranted that this important station was of a rectangular
form, corresponding very nearly with the plan of a Polybian camp,
occujiying a space of about six hiiiidrc<l and fifty yards, by about
live liundrcd and fifty, enclosed by a wall and a rampant mound
on tlie inner side of tiie wall, and a fosse without, with four angle-
towers, and a series of minor towers or turrets, and having four
gate" or principal entrances, from wiiieii procee<led military roads to
the neighbouring stations mentioned in the ' Itinerary' of Antonine.
Indications of extensive suburbs, especially on the south-west and
north-west, exist in the numerous and interesting remains of primeval
monuments, coffins, urns, tombs, baths, temples, and villas, which
from time to time, and especially of late years, have been brought
to light. Numberless tiles, bearing the impress of the sixth and
ninth legions, fragments of Samian ware, inscriptions, and coins
from the age of Julius Coesar to that of Constantine and his family,
concur, with the notice of ancient geographers and historians, to
identify the situation of modern York with that of ancient Ebora-
cum." (' Penny Cyclopaedia,' vol. xxvii.)

And well might York have been a mighty fortress, and a city of
palaces and temples ; for here the Roman emperors had their chief
seat when they visited Britain ; here Severus and Constantius Chlorus
died ; here, though the evidence is somewhat doubtful, Constantine
the Great was born.

Bath, a Roman city, connected by great roads with London and
with the south coast, famous for its baths, a city of luxury amongst
the luxurious colonizers, has presented to antiquarian curiosity more
Roman remains than any other station in England. The city is
supposed to be now twenty feet above its ancient level ; and here,
whenever the earth is moved, are turned up altars, tessellated pave-
ments, urns, vases, lachrymatories, coins. Portions of a large temple
consisting of a portico with fluted columns and Corinthian capitals,
were discovered in 1790. The remains of tlie ancient baths -have
been distinctly traced. The old walls of the city are held to have
been built upon the original Roman foundations. These walls
have been swept away, and with them the curious relics of the
elder period, which Leiand has thus minutely described: — "There
be divers notable antiquities engraved in stone tliat yet be seen in
the walls of Bath betwixt the south gate and the west gate, and
again betwixt the west gate and the north gate." He then notices
with more than ordinary detail a number of images, antique heads,
tomljs with inscriptions, and adds, "I much doubt whether these
antique works were set in tlie time of the Romans' dominion in
Britain in the walls of Bath as they stand now, or whether they
were gathered of old ruins there, and since set up in tlie walls, re-
edified in testimony of the antiquity of the town." Camden appears
to have seen precisely the same relics as Leland saw, " fastened on
the inner side of the wall between the north and west gates." These
things were in existence, then, a little more than two hundred years
ago. There have been no irruptions of barbarous people into
the country, to destroy these and other tilings of value which they
could not understand. "VVe had a high literature when these things
were preserved ; there were learned men amongst us ; and the
writers of imagination had that reverence for antiquity which is one
of the best fruits of a diffused learning. From that period we have
been wont to call ourselves a polite people. We are told that since
that period we have liad an Augustan age of letters and of arts.
Yet somehow it has happened that during these last two centuries
there has been a greater destruction of ancient things, and a more
wanton desecration of sacred things, perpetrated by people in
authority, sleek, self-satisfied functionaries, practical men, as they
termed themselves, who despised all poetical associations, and thought
the beautiful incompatible with the useful— there has been more
wanton outrage committed upon the memorials of the past, than all
the invaders and pillagers of our land had committed for ten centuries
before. The destruction has been stopped, simply because the
standard of taste and of feeling has been raised amongst a few.

It is inconsistent with our plan to attempt any complete detail of
the antiquities of any one period, as they are found in various parts
of the kingdom. To accomplish this, each period would require a
volume, or many volumes. Our purpose is to excite a general spirit
of inquiry, and to gratify that curiosity as far as we are able, by a
few details of what is most remarkable. Let us fiiiisli our account
of the Roman cities by a brief notice of Roman London.

A writer whose ability is concurrent with his careful investigation
of every subject which he touches, has well described the circum-
stances which led to the choice of London as a Roman city, upon a
site which the Britons had peopled, in all likelihood, before the
Roman colonization: —

" The spot on which London is built, or at least that on which the

first buildings were most probably erected, was pointed oat bj nature
for thu site of a city. It was the suipiciuu of the Mgadous Wren,
as we are informed in the ' Parentalia,' that the whole rallejr
between Camberwell Ilil! and the hilU of Emox must bare been
anciently filled by a great frith or ann of tlie sea, which ineraaaed
in width towards the east ; and that this ealiiary was only in tha
course of ag^ reduced to a river by the rast sand-hills which were
gradually raised on both sides of it by the wind and tidet the efleet
being assisted by embankments, which on the Esses side an ■till
perfectly diiitittguishable as of artificial origin, and are evidently
works that could only have been conktrncied by a people of advaaead
mechanical skill. Wren himself ascrilK-d these embankments to Um
Romans ; and it is staled timt a single breach made in them in bis
time cost 17,000/. to rejiair it — from which we may conceive both
how stupendous must have been the labour bestowed on their
original construction, and of what indispensable utility they art
still found to be. In fact, were it not for this ancient barrier, the
broad and fertile meadows stretching along that border of the rirer
would still be a mere marsh, or a bed of sand overflowed by the
water, though left perhaps dry in many places on the retirement of

the tide The elevation on which London is built

offered a site at once raised above the water, and at the same time
close upon the navigable portion of it — conditions which did not
meet in any other locality on either side of the river, or estuary,
from the sea upwards. It was the first spot on which a loun could
be set down, so as to take advantage of the facilities of communica-
tion between the coast and the interior presented by this great
natural highway." (' London,' vol. i. No. IX.)

The walls of London were partly destroyed in the time of Fit*-
Stephen, who lived in the reign of Henry II. He says, " The wall
of the city is high and great, continued with seven gates, which are
made double, and on the north distinguished with turrets by spaces.
Likewise on the south London hath been enclosed with walls and
towers ; but the large river of Thames, well stored with fish, and
in which the tide ebbs and flows, by continuance of time hath
washed, worn away, and cast down those walls." Camden writes;
" Our historians tell us that Constantine the Great, at the request
of Helena, his mother, first walled it [London] about with hewn
stone and British bricks, containing in compass about three miles;
whereby the city was made a square, but not equilateral, being
longer from west to east, and from south to north narrower. That
part of these walls which runs along by the Thames is quite washed
away by the continual beating of the river ; though Fitz-Stephen
(who lii ed in Henry the Second's time) fells us there were some
pieces of it still to be seen. The rest remains to this day, and that
part toward the north very firm : for having not many years since
[1474] been repaired by one Jocelyn, who was Mayor, it put on, as
it were, a new fiice and freshness. But that toward the east and
the west, though the Barons repaired it in their wars out of the
demolished houses of the Jews, is all ruinous and going to decay."
The new face and freshness that were put on the north wall by one
Jocelyn the Mayor, have long since perished. A few fragpients
above the ground, built-in, plastered over, proclaim to the curious
observer, that he walks in a city that has some claim to antiquity.
It was formerly a doubt with some of those antiquarian writers
who saw no interest in any inquiry except as a question of dispute,
whether the walls of London were of Roman construction. A
careful observer. Dr. Woodward, in the beginning of the last cen-
tury, had an opportunity of going below the surface, and the
matter was by him put beyond a doubt. He writes: — "The city
wall being upon this occasion, to make way for these new build-
ings, broke up and beat to pieces, from Bishopgate, onwards, S.E.
so far as they extend, an opportunity was given of observing the
fabric and composition of it. From the foundation, which lay
eight feet below the present surface, quite up to the top, which was
in all near ten foot, 'twas compiled alternately of layers of broad
flat bricks and of rag-stone. The bricks lay in double ranges ; and
each brick being about one inch and three-tenths in thickness, the
whole layer, with the mortar interposed, exceeded not three inches.
The layers of stone were not quite two foot thick of our measure.
'Tis probable they were intended for two of the Roman, their rule
being somewhat shorter than ours. To this height the workmanship
was after the Roman manner ; and these were the remains of the
ancient wall supposed to be built by Constantine the Great. In
this 'twas very observable that the mortar was, as usually in the
Roman works, so very firm and hard, that the stone itself as easily
broke and gave way as that. 'Twas thus far from the foundation
upwards nine foot in thickness." The removal of old houses in
London is still going on as in Woodward's time; acd more im-
portant excavations have been made in our own day, and at the

174.— Atrium of a Rum«n ]Iou».

ns.— Koom of * Romim Uouac. BeatoraUoQ Iroin rompcU.

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bv"^"*;--?^-

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ISl— Atrlomsfa Roman Honsf. RcetoralloD from rompdi.

No. 7.

OLD ENGLAND.

IBOOK I.

very hour in which we are writing. C\p>e by St. Paul's, in the
fornmtion of a deep sewer, tlie original peat-earth, over which
probably the Thames once flowed before man rested his foot here,
has been dug down to. In such excavations the relics of age after
age liave turned up. The Saxon town lies above the Roman ; and
the Norman above the Saxon ; but when tlie spade and the pickaxe
liave broken against some mass solid as the granite rock, tlien
the labourer knows that he has come to a building such as men
build not now, foundations that seem intended to have lasted for
ever, tlie Roman work. Woodward described the "Wall as he
taw it in Camomile Street in 1707. Mr. Craik, the writer whom
we have recently quoted, has recorded the appearance of the Wall
as he saw it in 1841, laid bare for tlie works of the Blackwall
Railway.

" Beneath a range of houses which have been in part demolished,
•n a court entering from the east side of Cooper's Row, nearly
opposite to Milbourne's Almshouses, and behind the south-west
corner of America Square, the workmen, having penetrated to the
natural earth — a hard, dry, sandy gravel — came upon a wall seven
feet and a half thick, running a very little to the "est of north, or
parallel to the line of the Minories ; which, by the resistance it
offered, was at once conjectured to be of Roman masonry. When
we saw it, it had been laid bare on both sides, to the height of about
six or seven feet, and there was an opportunity of examining its con-
struction, botli on the surface and in the interior. The principal part
of it consisted of five courses of squared stones, regularly laid, with two
layers of flat bricks below them, and two similar layers above — the
latter at least carried all tlie way through the wall — as represented
in the drawing (Fig. 150). The mortar, which appeared to be
extremely hard, had a few pebbles mixed up with it ; and here and
there were interstices, or air-cells, as if it had not been spread, but
Doured in among the stones. The stones were a granulated lime-
stone, such as might have been obtained from the chalk-quarries at
Greenhithe or Northfleet. The bricks, which were evidently
Roman, and, as far as the eye could judge, corresponded in size as
well as in sliape with those described by Woodward, had as fine a
grain as common pottery, and varied in colour from a briglit red to
a palish yellow. A slight circular or oval mark — in some cases
forming a double ring — appeared on one side of each of them, which
had been impressed when the clay was in a soft state." (' London,'
Vol. L No. IX.)

A peculiarity in the construction of a portion of the ancient wall
of London was discovered during some large excavations for sewer-
age, between Lambeth Hill and Qiieenhithe, in 1841. The wall in
this part measured in breadth from eight to ten feet. Its foundation
was upon piles, upon which was laid a stratum of chalk and stones;
then a course of ponderous hewn sandstones, held together by the
well-known cement ; and upon this solid structure the wall itself,
composed of layers of rag and flint, between the layers of Roman
tiles. Tiie peculiarity to which we allude was described to the
Antiquarian Society by Mr. Charles Roach Smith :— " One of the
most remarkable features of this wall is the evidence it affords of
the existence of an anterior building, which from some cause or
other must have been destroyed. Many of tlie large stones above
mentioned are sculptured and ornamented with mouldings, vvhicii
denote their prior use in a frieze or entablature of an edifice, the
magnitude of which may be conceived from the fact of these stones
weigliing in many instances upwards of half a ton. Whatever migiit
have been the nature of tliis structure, its site, or cause of its over-
throw, we have no means of determining." The undoubted work of
fourteen or fifteen centuries ago is something not to be looked upon
without associations of deep and abiding interest ; but when we find
connected witii such ancient labours more ancient labours, which
have themselves been overthrown by the changes of time or the
vicissitudes of fortune, the mind must fall back upon the repose of
its own ignorance, and be content to know how little it knows.

In the year 1785 a sewer, sixteen feet deep, was made in Lombard
Street. Sewers were not then common in London, and Sir Jolin
Henniker, speaking of this work, says, " A large trench has been
excavated in Lombard Street for the first time since the memory of
man." In making this excavation vast quantities of Roman anti-
quities were discovered, which are minutely described and repre-
sented in the eighth volume of the ' Archaeologia.' Amongst other
curiosities was found a beautiful gold coin of the Emperor Galba.
The coin came into the possession of Sir John Henniker, who thus
relates the circumstances under which it was found : — " The soil is
almost uniformly divided into four strata ; the uppermost, thirteen
feet six inches tliick, of factitious earth ; the second, two feet thick,
of brick, apparently the ruins of building-s; the third, three inches
thi'-k, of wood-ashes, apparently tlie remains of a town built of wood.

and destroyed by fire ; the fourth, of Roman pavement, common and
tessellated. On this pavement the coin in question was discovered,
together with several other coins, and many articles of pottery. Below
the pavement the workmen find virgin earth." (' Arch»ologia,' vol.
viii.) In 1831 various Roman remains were found in the construc-
tion of a sewer in Crooked Lane, and in Eastcheap. There, at a
depth of about seventeen feet, were found the walls of former houses
covered with wood-ashes, and about them were also found many
portions of green molten glass, and of red ware discoloured by the
action of fire. Mr. A. J. Kempe, who communicates tiiese dis-
coveries to the Society of Antiquaries, adverts to the wood-ashes
found in Lombard Street in 1785 ; and he adds, " Couple this with
the circumstances I have related, and what stronger evidence can
be produced of the catastrophe in which the dwellings of the Roman
settlers at London were involved in the reign of Nero ? The
Roman buildings at the north-east corner of Eastcheap afforded a
curious testimony that such a conflagration had taken place, and
that London had been afterwards rebuilt by the Romans. Worked
into the mortar of the walls were numerous pieces of the fine red
ware, blackened by the action of an intense fire."

The circumstances recorded certainly furnish strong evidence of
a conflagration and a rebuilding of the city ; but the fact recorded
in 1785, that under the wood-ashes was a coin of Galba, is evidence
against the conflagration having taken place in the time of Nero,
whom Galba succeeded. Mr. Kempe has fallen into the general
belief that when Londinium was abandoned to the vengeance of
Boadicea, its buildings were destroyed by a general conflagration.
This was in the year a. d. 61. The coin of Galba under the wood-
ashes would seem to infer that the conflagration was at a later date,
in connection with circumstances of which we have no tradition.
The short reign of Galba commenced a. d. 68. But be this as it
may, liere, seventeen feet under the present pavement of London,
are the traces of Roman life covered by the ashes of a ruined city,
and other walls built with the fragments of those rains, and over
these the aggregated rubbish of eighteen centuries of inhabitancy.
The extent of Roman London, of the London founded or civilized,
burnt, rebuilt, extended by the busiest of people, may be traced by
the old walls, by the cemeteries beyond the walls, and by the re-
mains of ancient relics of utility and ornament constantly turned
up wherever the soil is dug into to a suflScient depth. Look upon
the plan of this Roman London (Fig. 158). The figures marked
upon the plan show the places wliere the Romans have been traced.
1. Shows the spot in Fleet Ditch where vases, coins, and imple-
ments were found after the Great Fire of 1666. In many other
parts were similar remains found on that occasion (Fig. 163). On
tlie plan, 2 shows the point where a sepulchral stone was found
at Ludgate, which is now amongst the Arundel Marbles at Oxford
(Fig. 160). In the plan, 3 marks the site of St. Paul's, where
many remains were found by Sir Christopher Wren, in digging
tlie foundation of the present Cathedral — the burial-place of " the
colony when Romans and Britons lived and died together" (Fig.
164). At the causeway at Bow Churcli, marked 4, Roman remains
were found after the Great Fire. At Guildiiall, marked 5, tiles and
pottery were found in 1822. In Lothbury, in 1805, digging foi
the foundation of an extended portion of the Bank of England,
marked 6, a tessellated pavement was found, which is now in tJie
British Museum. Other tessellated pavements have been found in
various parts of London, the finest specimens having been discovered
in 1803, in Leadenhall Street, near the portico of the India House,
(Fig. 161). The spot in Lombard Street and Birchin Lane,
where, previous to the discoveries in 1785 already mentioned, re-
mains had been found in 1730 and 1774, is marked 7 on the plan.
Some of these remains are represented in Fig. 166. In 1787
Roman coins and tiles were found at St. Mary at Hill, close by
the line of the Thames, marked 8. In 1824, near St. Dunstan'a
j in the East, on the same line, marked 9, were pavements and urns
found. In Long Lane, marked 10, a pavement has been found ; also
a tessellated pavement in Crosby Square, marked 1 1 ; a pavement
in Old Broad Street, marked 12 ; a tessellated pavement in Crutched
Friars, marked 16; a pavement in Northumberland Alley, marked
' 17. Sepulchral monuments have been found within the City wall,
j as in Bishopsgate, in 1707, marked 14; and in the Tower, in 1777,
marked 15. But the great burial-places, especially of the Chris-
tianized Romans, were outside the wall ; as at the cemeteiy
beyond Bishopsgate, discovered in 1725, marked 13; that in Good-
man's Fields, marked 19, found in 1787 ; and that at Spitalfields,
marked 18, discovered as early as 1577. The old London antiquary,
Stow, thus speaks of this discovery : '' On the east side of tiiis
churchyard lieth a large field, of old time called Loleswortli, now
Spitalfield, which about the year 1576 was broken up for clay to

Chap. ll.J

OLD ENGLAND.

!>l

make brick; in the digging wlicreof many earthen pot« called
Uriije were found full of atJieH, and burnt bones of men, to wit of
the Houians who iniiabited here. For it was the custom of the
liomans to burn their dead, to put their ashes in an urn, and then
to bury the Kanie with certain ceremonies, in some field appointed

lor liiat pur|)oso near unto tlicir city 'i here hath also

litcii found (in the same field) divers coflfins of stone, coritainnig
the bones of men ; these I suppose to be the burials of some special
jjersons, in time of the Britons or Saxons, after that the Homans
liad left to govern here. Moreover there were also found the
t-knUs ami liones of men witliout coffins, or ratlier whose coffins
(being of great limber) were consunie<l. Divers great nails of
iron were there found, such as are used in the wheels of shod carts,
being each of tliem as big as a man's finger, and a quarter of a yard
long, the head,-; two inclies over."

Tlie plan tliiis detailed indicates the general extent of Roman
Loudon. Williin tiie.'-e limits every year adds something to tlie
mass of antiquities that have been turned up, and partially examined
and described, since the days when Stow saw the earthern pots in
Spitalfields. Traces of the old worship have at various times been
found. A very curious altiir was discovered fifteen feet below tlie
level of tlie .street in Foster Lane, Cheapside, in 1830. Attention
has recently been directed to a supposed Roman bath in Strand
Lane, represented in Fig. 159 (See ' London,' Vol. 11.). But the
bed of the Thames has been as prolific as the highways that are
trampled upon, in disclosing to its excavators traces of the great
colonizers of England. Works of high art in silver and in bronze
were found in 1825 and 1837, embedded in the soil over which the
river has been rolling for ages. In the southern bank of the Thames
evidences have recently been discovered that parts of Southwark
contiguous to the river were occupied by the Romans, as well as
the great city on the opposite bank. Mr. Charles Roach Smith, in
a paper read to tlie Society of Antiquaries in 1841, says, "The
occurrence of vestiges of permanent occupancy of this locality by
the Romans, is almost uninterrupted from the river to St. George's
Church in the line of the present High Street." Mr. Smith is
decidedly of opinion that a considerable portion of Southwark
fornie^l an integral part of Londinium, and that the two shores were
connected by a bridge. Mr. Smith holds, " First, that with such a
people as the Romans, and in such a city as Londinium, a bridge
would bo indispensable; and, secondly, that it would naturally be
erected somewhere in the direct line of road into Kent, which I
cannot but think pointed toward the site of Old London Bridge,
both from its central situation, from the general absence of the
foundations of buildings in the approaches on the northern side,
and from discoveries recently made in the Thames on the line of
the old bridge." The bronzes, medallions, and coins found in the
line of the old bridge, which have been dredged up by the ballast-
heavers from their position, and the order in which they occur,
strongly support the opinion of Mr. Smith. The coins comprise
many thousands of a series extending from .Tubus Csesar to Hotioriiis ;
and Mr. Smith infers " that the bulk of these coins might have
been intentionally deposited, at various periods, at the erection of a
bridge across the river, whether it were built in the time of Ves-
pasian, Hadrian, or Pius, or at some subsequent period, and that
they also might have been deposited at such times as the bridge
might require repairs or entire renovation."

The shrewd observer and sensible writer whom we have quoted
has a valuable remark upon the peculiar character of the Roman
antiquities of London: — "Though our Londinium cannot rival, in
remains of public buildings, costly statues, and sculptured sarcophagi
and altars, the towns of the mother-country, yet the reflective
antiquary can still find materials to work on, — can point to the
lociilities of the less obtrusive and imposing, but not less useful,
structures — the habitations of the mercantile and trading population
of this ever-mercantile town. The numerous works of ancient
art which have yet been preserved afford us copious materials
for studying the habits, manners, and customs of the Roman
colonists ; the introduction and state of many of the arts during
their long sojourn in Britain, and their positive or probable influence
on the British inhabitants. This is, in fact, the high aim and scope
of the science of antiquities — to study mankind through their works."

It is in this spirit that we would desire to look at the scattered
.intiquities of ' Old England,' to whatever period they may belong.
Whenever man delves into the soil, and turns up a tile or an
earthen pot, a coin or a weapon, an inscription which speaks of
love for the dead, or an altar which proclaims the reverence for the
spiritual, in some form, however mistaken, we have evidences of
antique modes of life, in whose investigation we may enlaigo the
narrow bounds of our own every-d.iy lifr. Those wUd have

detceudtii into tli« escttvated streeu of th* buried I'ompeii, and
•have walke<J in lubterranean way* which were onc« nuJiant with
the sunshine, and liave entered bowoi wboM jviatiiigs and
sculptures are proofs that here were the abodM of eonfiirt and

elegance, where ta«te duplaycd it*c'lf in form* which f^n nut periib,
— such have beli«-Id with deep emotion the coiuHK|ueneM of • Midden
ruin which in a few hours made the populou* eitj a citr of Um
dead. But when we pierce through the kh«ll of niroaMliii
generations abiding in a great city like Ix>ndon, to bring to Ugiit
the fragments of a high slate of civilization, crushed and orertlirown
by change and spoliation, and forgotten amidit the trample cf
successive generations of mankind in the Mune bu»j spot, tb« ««•
may not so readily awaken the niinti lo solemn reflection ; but still
every fragment has iU own lenon, which cannot be read unprofitably.
It is not the exquisite art by which common maleriaU for common
purposes were moulded by a tasteful (leople, tliat can alone command
our admiration. A group of such is exhibited in Fig. 160. Thai
these are Roman is at once proclaimed by their graceful formt.
But mingled with these are sometimes found article* of inferior
workmanship and less tasteful |iatterns, which sliovr how the
natives of the Roman colony liail gradually emulated their arts
and were pas-ing out of that state when the wants of life were
supplied witliout regard to the elegancies which belong to an
advanced civilization (see Fig. 168). The Romans put the mtrk
of their cultivated taste as effectually u|(on the drinking-cu|M and
the urns of the colonized Britons, compared with the earlier works
of the natives, as the emperor IIa<lrian put his stamp upon the piga
of lead which were cast in the British mines, and which nwy still
be seen in our national Museum (Figs. 165, 166, 167). The
bronze patera, or drinking bowl, found in Wiltshire, marked with
the names of five Roman towns on its margin, was a high work of
Roman-British art (Figs. 152, 153, 154). The metal coaling of
an ancient Roman-British shield, found in the bed of the river
Witham, belongs to a lower stage of the same art (Fig. 171). The
British coin of Carausius (Fig. 173), of which a unique example
in gold is in the British Museum, and the coin of Constantine the
Great in the same collection (Fig. 172), each probably came out
of the Roman coin-mould (Fig. 170). After yean of contest and
bloodshed, the Roman arts became the arts of Britain ; and when
our Shakspere made lachimo describe the painting and the statuary of
Imogen's chamber, though the description might Ik? an anachronism
with regard to Cymbeline, it was a just representation of the influence
of Roman taste on the lioine-life of Britain, when the intercourse of
the countries had become established, and the peaceful colonization
of those whose arts always followed in the wake of their arms had
introduced those essentially Roman habits, of which we invariably
find the relics when in our ancient cities we come to the subsoil oo
which the old Britons trod.

A writer on early antiquities, Mr. King, to whom we have
several times referred, has a notion that the private dwellings of
the Romans, especially in this island, were not remarkable for
comfort or elegance, to say nothing of magnificence : " In most
instances a Roman Quiestor, or Tribune, sitting here in his toga
on lib moveable sella, or wallowing on his triclinium, on one of
those dull, dark, and at best ill-looking works of mosaic, did
not, after all, appear with much more real splendour, as to any
advantages from the refinements of civilized life, than an old Scotch
laird in the Highlands, sitting in his plaid on a joint^stool, or on a
chair of not much better construction, in the corner of his rough,
rude,.castle-tower." This is a bold assertion, and one that indicates
that the writer has no very clear perception of what constitutes the
best evidence of the existence of the " refinements of civilized life."
The first dull, dark, ill-looking work of mioaic, which Mr. King
describes, is a tessellated pavement, which he says " shows great
design and masterly execution." The remains of vilUs discovered
in England have for the most part painted walls, even accordmg to
Mr. King some proof of refinement, if all other proofs were absent.
But the rooms with the (tainted walls had no fire-places with chim*
neys, and must have l)een warmed when needful, " merely by hot
air from the adjoining hypocanst." This is a curious example of
the mutation of ideas in half a century. The Romans in Britain,
according to Mr. King, could have had no comfort or refinement,
because they had no open fires, and wanned their rooms with hot air.
The science of our own day says that the oiien fire and chimiiev
are relics of barbarism, and that comfort and refinement demaiid
the hot air. Tlie remains of a hypocaust at Lincoln (Fig. HI)
alone indicate something beyond the conveniences posseawd br tJ;e
old Scotch laird sitting on his joint-stool. But, in truth, the bare
inspection of the plan of any one of the Roman villas discovered in

H 2

189.— Arms and Costume of « SixM MlUUry Chief,

190.— Arms and Costume of an Anglo-Saxon King and Armonr Bearer.

Mi.— Ringed Mail. Cotton MS. Claud. B. 4

l»5.— Anglo-Saxon Mantle, Caps, and Weapons.

19S,— Oatume of a Soldiei. From Cotton MS. Tib. C (

- . . , ^x-»--.^ ^'^N>I^,..^lS'

131 -Arms an! Cosliimc of the Tribes on the Western Shores of the Baltic.

1 92.— Arms and Costume of Danish Warriors.

!••.— St. Mlcbael't Cbuicb, St. Albuu.

*M.-<)a<>UM<l Work. Ml .-i<Mf mt mm Wwk.

10l.-B«lo»lr». *H.-AkK tu^-C>iammm4 0ttrtl.

UT.-^t Utrtin'l Church, Ctolerbnrf.

l.-vnmttm. «M.-Wtafc«

act. — Sueno'8 rillar at Forrci.

19«.— Ruins of ibe'MoMslery of Ion«, on I-<JoItnnb-ICni.

aM .— Cram* *| SnAKk.

OLD ENGLAND.

JBOOK. I,

England will show that the colonizers brought here the same
tasteful arrangements of their private dwellings as distinguished
similar remains in the states wholly peopled by Komans. Vitruvius
has given us the general plan of a Eoman villa (Fig. 176), which
we copy, that it may be compared witli the i)lans of Eonian villas
discovered in Enj^rland. The most important of these is that at
AVoodchester, near r<troud, in Gloucestersliire, which was discovered
by Mr. Lysons in 1795 (Fig. 177). The plan of this remarkable
building, w'hich Mr. Lysons lias been able distinctly to trace, shows
that there was a large open court, or atrium, marked h ; an inner
court, niarksd a ; and a smaller court in the wing, marked c. Round
these were grouped the various apartments and domestic offices, about
sixty in number. Mr. King seems to think somewhat meanly of
these apartments, as they seldom exceed twenty or twenty-five feet
in length, with a proportionate breadth ; and because " tliere is no
reason from any remaining traces of any sort or kind to suppose
there was ever a staircase in any part, or so much as one single
room above the ground-floor."

Another Eoman villa, of which we have given the plan (Fig.
179), is described by the same indefatigable antiquary, Mr. Samuel
Lysons, who, in consequence of the accidental discovery of a mosaic
pavement at Bignor, in Sussex, in 1811, was enabled during that
year and the succeeding six years to trace tiie plan of a building
of great extent and magnificence, with rich pavements and painted
walls. " Many of the ornaments and general style of the mosaic
work bear a striking resemblance to those of the pavements
discovered at Pompeii, wliich could not have been of a later date
than the reign of Titus." Sir Humphry Davy in some degree
confirms this opinion in a letter to Mr. Lysons : " I have examined
the colours found on the walls of the Roman liouse discovered at
Bignor, in Sussex ; and I find that they are similar in cheniical
composition to those employed in the baths of Titus at Rome, and
in the houses and public buildings at Pompeii and Ilerculaneum."
We cannot have better evidence that the same arts of design, and
llie same scientific means of ornament, were employed in Britain
as at Pompeii. Accomplished architects have lieen enabled, from
wliat remains tolerably entire in that buried city, to form a general
notion of the internal arrangements of a Roman house. We present
such to our readers in the beautiful restorations of Mr. Poynter
(Figs. 174, 175, 180, and 181). The villa discovered at Great
Witcombe, in Gloucestershire, in 1818 (Fig. 178), exhibits the most
complete example of the remains of the Roman baths in this country,
several of the walls still existing, from four to five feet above the
level of the floors, and most of the doorways being preserved.

The influence of the Roman taste and science upon the domestic
architecture of the colonized Britons must no doubt have been
considerable. '• The use of mortar, plaster, and cement, of the
various tools and implements for building, the art of making the
flat tiles, and all things connected with masonry and bricklaying, as
known and practised by the Romans, must of course in the proo-ress
of tlieir works, have been communicated to tlieir new subjects ; and
it appears that, by the close of the third century, British builders
had acquired considerable reputation. The panegyrist Eumenius
tells us that when the Emperor Constantius rebuilt the city of
Autiiii, in Gaul, about the end of the third century, he brought the
workmen chiefly from Britain, which very much abounded with the

best artificers." (' Pictorial History of England,' vol, i.) It would
appear, however, that althougli there can be no doubt that many
splendid buildir/gs, such as Giraldus Cambrensis describes as having
seen in the twelftii century at Caerleon, were models for the suc-
cessors of the Romans, no remains of a very higli style of art have
been discovered in Britain. Mr. Rickmau says, " I tiiink it is clear
that nothing ^>ery good of Roman work ever existed in Britain ; all
the fragments of architecture which have been discovered, whether
large or small, wliether the tympanum of a temple, as found at
Ball), or small altars as found in many places. I believe they were
all deficient either in composition or in execution, or in both, and
none that I know of have been better, if so good, as the debased
work of the Emperor Diocletian in his palace at Spalatro. Witb
these debased examples, we cannot expect that the inhabitants of
Britain would (while harassed with continual intestine warfare) im-
prove on the models left by the Romans."^ (' Archa3ologia,' vol. xxv.)
It is easy to understand how the Roman architecture of Britain
should not have been in the best taste. Wlien the island was
permanently settled under the Roman dominion, the arts had greatly
declined in Rome itself. In arcliitecture, especially, the introduc-
tion of incongruous members, in combination with the general
forms derived from the Greeks, produced a corruption wliich was
rapidly advancing in the tliird century, and which continued to
spread till Roman arcliitecture had lost nearly all its original
distinctive characters. Tl>e models which the Romans left in
Britain, to a people harassed with continual invasion and internal
dissension, were no doubt chiefly of this debased character. Of the
buildings erected for the Pagan worship of the Saxons we have no
traces. The re-establishment of Christianity by the conversion of
the Saxons was rapidly followed by th(^ building of churches. What
was the nature of the material of these churches, whether any of
them still exist, whether portions even may yet be found in our
ecclesiastical buildings, have been fruitful subjects of antiquarian
discussion. There is somewhat of a fashion in such opinions. In
the last century, all churches with heavy colunms and semicircular
arches were called Saxon. Some twenty years ago it was maintained
that we had no Saxon buildings at all. The present state of opinion
amongst unprejudiced inquirers is, we thijik, fairly represented in
the following candid argument of Mr. Rickman : " On that part
of our architectural history which follows the departure of the
Romans from Britain, and which precedes the Ivorman Conquest,
there is of course great obscurity ; but while in the days of Dr.
Stukeley, Horace Walpole, &c., their appears to have been much
too ea.*y an admission of Saxon dates on the mere appearance of the
semicircular arch, I think there has been of late perhaps too great
a leaning the otiier way ; and because we cannot directly prove that
certain edifices are Saxon, by documentary evidence, we have been
inducetl, too easily perhaps, to consider that no Saxon buildings did
exist, and have not given ourselves the trouble sufficiently to examine
our earlier Norman works to see if tiiey were not some of them
entitled to be considered as erected before the Conquest." This is
the subject which we shall be called upon to illustrate in our next
chapter ; but in the mean time we refer to some of the details of
later Roman art, which we give at page 49 (Figs. 182 — 188). It
is to these forms and arrangements that the architecture of the
Anglo-Saxons and Norman is to be traced as to a common source.

Chav. III.]

OLD ENGLAND.

»5

Tho Standard of the Wliito Horao.

CHAPTER III.— THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD.

N axe was to \>ti laid to the
root of that prosperity which
Britain unquestionably enjoyed
under the established dominion
and protection of the Romans.
Tlie military people whom
Ca'sar led to the conquest of
Gaul were, five hundred years
afterwards, (hivrn back upon
Italy by hordis of fierce in-
\aders, who swarmed wherever
iilj plenty spread its attractions
for wanderinp; poverty. " The
blue-eyed myriads" first came to Britain as allies. The period
when they came was one of remarkable prosperity, according to the
old ecclesiastical chronicler, whose account of this revolution is the
most distinct which we possess. Bede says, that after the " Irish
Eovers" had returned home, and "the PicU" were driven to the
farthest part of the Island, through a vigorous effort of the unaided
Britons, the land " began to abound with such plenty of grain as
had never been known in any age before. With plenty, luxury
increased ; and this was inunediately attended with all sorts of
crimes." Then followed a plague; and to repel tlie apprehended
incursions of the northern tribes, " they all agreed with their king,
Vortigern (Guorteryn), to call over to their aid, from the parts
beyond the sea, the Saxon nation." The standard of the White
Horse floated on the downs of Kent and Susse.v ; and the strange
people who bore it from the shores of the Baltic fixed it firmly
in the land, whose institutions they remodelled, whose name was
henceforth changed, whose language was merged in the tongue
which they spake. " Then the nation of the Angles, or Saxons,
being invited by the aforesaid king, arrived in Britain with three
long ships, and iiad a place assigned them to reside in by the same
king, in the eastern part of the island, as it were to fight for their
country, but in reality to subdue this."

Britain was henceforth the land of the Angles — Engla-land,
Engle-land, Engle-lond. Little more than a century after the
settlement in, or conquest of, the country by the three nations of
the Jutes, the Saxons, and the Angles, the supreme monarch, or
Bretwalda, thus subscribed himself : — " Ego Ethelbertus, Itex
Anglorum." The Angles and tiie Saxons were distinct nations,
and they subilued and retained distinct portions of the land.
But even the Saxon chiefs of Wessex, when they had extended
their dominions into the kingdom of the Angles, called themselves
kings of Engla-land. In our own times we are accustomed to use

the term Anglo-Saxons, when wc speak of the wars, the institutions,
the literature, and the arts of the people who for five ceoturies
were tho possessors of this our England, and have left the impr«M
of their national character, their language, their laws, and their
religion upon the race that still tread the soil which they trod.

The material monuments which are left of these five centuries of
struggles for supremacy within, and against invasion from without,
of Paganism overthrowing the institutions of Christianized Britain
by the sword, and overthrown in its turn by the more lasting power
of a dominant church — of wise government, of noble patriotism,
vainly contending against a new irruption of pr^tory sea-kings, —
tliese monuments are few, and of doubtful origin. The Anglo-
Saxons have left their most durable traces in the institutions which
still mingle with the laws under which we live, — in the literature
which has their written language for its best foundation, — in the
useful arts which they cultivated, and which have descended to us as
our inheritance.

The most enduring monuments are the Manuscripts and the Illu-
minations producctl by the pafRnt labour of their spiritual teachers,
which we may yet open in our public libraries, and look upon with
as deep an interest as upon the fragments of the more (Mirisliable
labours of the architect and the sculptor. But of buildings, and
even the ornamented fragments of churches and of palaces, this
period has left us few remains in comparison with its long duration,
and the unquestionable existence of a high civilization during a
considerable portion of these five centuries. But it is posaible tliat
these remains are not so few as we are taught to think. It has been
the fashion to believe that the invading Dane swept away all these
monuments of piety and of civil order ; that « hatever of high anti-
quity after the Romans here exists, is of Norman origin. We have
probably yielded somewhat too readily to this modem belief. For
example. Bishop Wilfred, who lived in the seventh century, was a
great builder and restorer of churches, and Richard, Prior of Hex ham,
who lived in the twelfth century, describes /rom his tmm oiservaliom
the church which Wilfred built at Hexham. According to this
minute description, it was a noble fabric, with deep fuandatioos,
with crypts, and oratories, of great height, divided into three sereral
stories or tiers, and supported by polished columns ; the capitals of
the columns were decorated with figures carved id stone ; the body
of the church was compassed about with pentices and porticoes.
Such a church we should now call Norman. Within the limits of
a work like ours it is impossible to discuss such matters of contro-
versy. We here only enter a protest against the belief that all
churches now existing with some of the characteristics of the cliurrb
of Wilfred, must be of the period after the Conquest.

211.— Windows from tho Talace of Westminster.

216.— Bosham Ckuralj. Fron the Baycns Ti-jestry.

2:3. -Golden Cross worn by Si. Cutlibeit, and found ou bis
body at Ihe op n'ng oi h'a Tr mb In 1837.

221.— BinV.op and Prlr-st

»a.— AMpt Coott ni m. AariM^ ArckMakv •! Cu-tn^mrf.
(ttetakalUL)

a<Mt

No. 8

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book 1.

When Johnson and Boswell visited lona, or Icolm-kill, the less
imaginative traveller was disappointed : — " I must own that Icolm-
kill did not answer my expectations There are only some

grave-stones flat on tlie earth, and we could see no inscriptions.
How far short was this of marble monuments, like those in AVest-
minster Abbey, which I had imagined here !" So writes the matter-
of-fact Boswell. But Johnson, whose mind was filled with the
various knowledge that surrounded the barren island with great and
holy associations, had thoughts which shaped themselves into sen-
tences often quoted, but too appropriate to the objects of this work
not to be quoted once more : —

" We were now treading tliat illustrious island which was once
the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and
roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge and the
blessing of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion
would be impossible if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if
it were possible. Whatever witiidraws us fi-om the power of our
senses, wliatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, pre-
dominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking
beings. Far from me, and from my friends, be such frigid philoso-
phy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground
which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue ! That
man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force
upon tlie plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer
among the ruins of lona."

" The ruins of lona " are not the ruins of " Saint Columba's
cell," of that monastery wliich the old national Saint of Scotland
founded in the midst of wide waters, when he came from the shores
of Ireland to conquer a rude and warlike people by the power of the
Gospel of peace; to preach with his followers "such works of
cliarity and piety as they could learn from the prophetical, evange-
lical, and apostolical writings ;" and, in addition to tliis first sacred
duty, to be the depositaries of learning and the diffusers of know-
ledge. The walls amidst whose shelter Columba lived, training his
followers by long years of discipline to the fit discharge of their
noble office, have been swept away ; the later erections are crumbling
into nothingness (Figs. 198, 199); the burial-place of the Scottish
kings is overgrown with rank weeds, and their tombs lie broken and
defaced amidst fragments of monumental stones of the less illus-
trious dead. Silent and deserted is this " guardian of their bones."
The miserable hovels of a few fishermen contain the scanty population
of an island wlrich was once trodden by crowds of the noble and
the learned. Here the highest in rank once came to bow before
the greater eminence of exalted piety and rare knowledge. To bean
inmate of the celebrated monastery of lona was to gain a reputation
through the civilized world. This was not the residence of lazy
monks, as we are too much accustomed to call all monks, but of
men distinguislied for the purity and simplicity of their lives, and
by the energy and disinterestedness of their labours. lona sent forth
her missionaries into every land from which ignorance and idolatry
were to be banished by the workings of Christian love. When the
bark that contained a little band of these self-devoted men went
forth upon the stormy seas that beat around these western isles, to
seek in distant lands the dark seats where Druidism still lingered,
or the fiercer worship of Odin lifted its hoarse voice of war and
desolation, then the solemn prayer went up from the sacred choir
for the heavenly guidance of " those who travel by land or sea."
When the body of some great chief was embarked at Corpach, on
the mainland, and the waters were dotted with the boats that crowded
round the funeral baik, then the chants of the monks were heard
far over the sea, like the welcome to some hospitable shore, breathing
hope and holy trust. Such are the materials for the " local emo-
tion " which is called forth by " the ruins of lona ;" and such emo-
tion, though tlie actual monuments that are associated with it like
these are shapeless fragments, is to be cherished in many a spot of
similar sanctity, where, casting aside all minor differences of opinion,
we know that tlie light of truth once shone there amidst surrounding
darkness, and that " one bright particular star " there beamed before
the dawning.

We liave already quoted Bede's interesting narrative of the
arrival of Augnstine in tlie Isle of Thanet (p. 34). The same
authentic writer subsequently tells us of the lives of Augustine and
liis fellow-missionaries at Canterbury : " There was in the east side
near the city a church dedicated to the honour of St. Martin,
formerly built whilst the Romans were still in the island, wherein
the queen (Bertha), who, as has been said before, was a Christian,
used to pray. In this they at first began to meet, to sing, to pray,
to say mass, to preach, and to baptize; till the king being converted
to the faith, tliey liad leave granted them more freely to preach,
and build or repair churches in all places." On " the east side of

the city" of Canterbury still stands the cliurch of St. Martin. Its
windows belong to various periods of Gothic architecture ; its
external walls are patched after tlie barbarous fashion of modern
repairs ; it is deformed within by wooden boxes to separate the
rich from the poor, and by ugly monumental vanities, miscalled
sculpture; but the old walls are full of Roman bricks, relics, at
any rate, of the older fabiic wliere Bertha and Augustine " used to
pray" (Fig. 197). Some have maintained that this is the identical
Roman church wliich Bede describes ; and tradition has been pretty
constant in the belief that it is as old as the second century. Mr.
King has his own theory upon the matter: "Some have supposed it
to have been built by Roman Christians, of the Roman soldiery ;
but if tliat had been the case, there would surely have been found
in it the regular alternate courses of Roman bricks. Instead of
this, the chancel is found to be built almost entirely of Roman
bricks ; and the other parts with Roman bricks and other materials,
irregularly intermixed. There is therefore the utmost reason to
think that it was built as some imitation only of Roman structures
by the rude Britons, before their workmen became so skilful in
Roman architecture as they were afterwards rendered, when
regularly employed by the Romans." Whether a British, a
Roman, or a Saxon church, here is a church of the highest
antiquity in the island, rendered memorable by its associations with
the narrative of the old ecclesiastical historian. There is a
remarkable font in this church — a stone font with rude carved-work,
resembling a great basin, and standing low on the floor. Such a font
was adapted to the mode of baptism in the primitive times. In such
a church might Augustine and his followers have sung and prayed ;
in such a font might Augustine have baptized. Venerated, then,
be the spot upon which stands the little church of St. Martin.
It is a pleasant spot on a gentle elevation. The lofty towers and
pinnacles of the great Catliedral rise up at a little distance ; the
County Infirmary and tlie County Prison stand about it. It was
from this little hill, then, that a sound went through the land
which, in a few centuries, called up those glorious edifices which
attest the piety and the magnificence of our forefathers j which, in
our own days, has raised up institutions for the relief of the sick
and the afflicted poor ; but which has not yet banished those dismal
abodes which frown upon us in every great city, where society
labours, and labours in vain, to correct and eradicate crime by
restraint and punishment. Something is still wanting to niake the
teaching which, more than twelve centuries ago, went forth
throughout the land from this cliurch of St. Martin, as effectual as
its innate purity and truth ought to render it. The teaching has
not even to tliis day penetrated the land. It is heard at stated
seasons in consecrated places ; it is spoken about in our parish schools,
whence a scanty knowledge is distributed amongst a rapidly-
increasing youthful population, in a measure little adapted to the
full and effectual banishment of ignorance. Our schools are few ;
our prisons are many. The work which Augustine and his fol-
lowers did is still to do ; but it is a work which a state that has spent
eight hundred millions in war tliinks may yet be postponed. The
time may come, if that work be postponed too long, wlieu the teachers
of Christian knowledge may as vainly strive against the force of the
antagonist principle, as the monks of Bangor strove, with prayer
and antlieni,

" When the heathen trumpets' clang ^

Kound beleaguer'd Chester rang." ^^^^■■B

Whilst we are disputing in what way the people shall be taught,
ignorance is laying aside its ordinary garb of cowardice ana
servility, and is putting on its natural properties of insolence and
ferocity. Let us set our liand to the work which is appointed for
us, before it be too late to work to a good end, if to do this work
at all.

Camden describes a place upon the estuary of the Ilumber which,
although a trivial place in modern days, is dear to every one familiar
with our old ecclesiastical history : " In the Roman times, not far
from its bank upon the little river Foulness (where W^ighton, a
small town, but well stocked with husbandmen, now stands), there
seems to have formerly stood Delgovitia ; as is probable both from
the likeness and the signification of tlie name. For the British
word Delgwe (or rather Ddeliii) signifies the statues or images of
the heathen gods ; and in a little village not far off there stood an
idol-temple, which was in very great honour even in the Saxon
times, and, from the heathen gods in it, was then called God-mund-
ingham, and now, in the same sense, Godmanham." This is the
place which witnessed the conversion to Christianity of Edwin, King
of Nortliumbria. The whole story of this conversion, as told by
Bede, is one of those episodes that we call superstitious, in which
history reflects the confiding faith of popular tradition, which does

ClIAP. lll.J

OLD ENGLAND.

not resign itself to the belief that all worldly events depend solely
upon material inlluenccs. But one portion of this story has the
b('st elements of liigh poetry in itself, and has therefore gained
little by being versified even by Wordsworth. Edwin held a council
of his wise men, to inquire their opinion of the new doctrine which
was tausl't by tlie missionary Paulinus. In this council one thui
addressed him : " Tiie present life of man, O King, seems to me,
in com|)ariKoii of that time which is unknown to us, like to a spar-
row swiftly ilying through the room, well warmed with the fire
made in the midst of it, wherein you sit at supper in the winter,
with commanders and ministers, whilst the storms of rain and snow
prevail abroad ; the sparrow, I say, ilying in at one door, and iin- ,
mediately out at another, whilst he is witliin is not affected with
tlie winter storm ; but after a very brief interval of what is to hiui ^
fair weather and safety, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, j
returning from one winter to another. So tliis life of man appears
for a moment ; but of wliat went before, or what is to follow,
we are utterly ignorant. If, therefore, tliis new doctrine contains ]
sometiiing more certain, it seems justly to deserve to bo followed."
Never was a familiar image more beautifully applied ; never was
there a more striking picture of ancient manners — the storm without,
the fire in the hall within, the king at supper with his great men
around, the open doors through which the sparrow can flit. To this
poetical counsellor succeeded tiio chief priest of the idol-worship,
Coifi. He declared for the new faith, and advised that the heathen
altars should be destroyed. "Who," exclaimed the king, "shall
first desecrate their altars and their temples?" The priest answereti,
" I ; for who can more properly than myself destroy these tilings
that I worshipped through ignorance, for an example to all others,
through the wisdom given me by the true God?"

" Prompt transformation works the novel lore.
The Council closed, tho priest in full career
Eides forth, an armed man, and hurU a spcor
To desecrate tho fane which licrcfoforo
Ho served in folly. Woden fidls, and Thor
Is overturned."

WORDSWOBTH.

The altars and images wliicli the priest of Northumbria
overthrew have left no monuments in the land. They were not
built, like the Druidical temples, under the impulses of the great
system of faith which, dark as it was, had its foundations in
spiritual aspirations. The pagan wonship which tlie Saxons brought
to this lantl was chiefly cultivated under its sensual aspects. The
Valhalla, or heaven of the brave, was a heaven of fighting and
feasting, of full meals of boar's flesh, and large draughts of mead.
Such a future called not for solemin temples, and altars where the
lowly and the weak might kneel in the belief that there was a
heaven for them, as well as for the mighty in battle. The idols
frowned, and the people trembled. But this worship, has marked
us, even to this hour, with the stamp of its authority. Our Sunday
is still the Saxon Sun's-day ; our Monday the Moon's-day ; our
Tuesday Tuisco's-day ; our AVednesday Woden's-day ; our Thursday
Thor's-day ; our Friday Friga's-day ; our Saturday Seater's-day.
This is one of the many examples of the incidental circumstances
of institutions surviving the institutions themselves — an example of
itself sufficient to show the folly of legislating against established
customs and modes of thought. The French republicans, with
every aid from popular intoxication, could not establish their
calendar for a dozen years. Tlie Pagan Saxons have fixed their
names of the week-days upon Christian England for twelve centuries,
and probably for as long as England shall be a country.

Some of tlie material monuments of the ages after the departure
of the Romans, and before the Norman conquest, are necessarily
obscure in their origin and objects. It was once the custom to
refer some of the remains which we now call Druidical to the
period when Saxon and Danes were fighting for the possession of
the land — tropiiies of battle and of victor)'. There are some
monuments to which this origin is still assigned ; and such an
origin has been ascribed to the remarkable stone at Forres, called
Sucno's Pillar (Fig. 207). It is a block of granite twenty-five
feet in height, and nearly four feet in breadth at its base. It is
sculptured in the most singular manner, with representations of men
and horses in military .array and warlike attitudes ; some holding
up their shields in exultation, others joining hands in token of
fidelity. Tiiere is to be seen also the figiit and the massacre of the
prisoners; and the whole is surmounted by something like an
elephant. On the other side of this monument is a large cross,
with figures of persons in authority in amicable conference. It has
been held tiiat all this represents the expulsion of some Scandinavian

adventiircre from Scotland, wbo bad long iatetad 0»
about the |)roaiontory of Burgbeod, and refers alio to a wihwiqiniii't
peace between Malcolm, King of Scotland, and Socao, Kiag of
Norway. B« this as it may, the cross denotM the iiimiiiBHiil to
belong to the Christian period, though its objects wen aaylUng
but devotional. Not so the croatea at Samibacb, in Cbeahin.
Tlicse arc, no doubt, works of early piety ; and tbey are atoied by
Air. Lysons to belong to a period not long aubaequeBt to iho iittio>
duction of Christianity amongst the Anglo-Sasons (Fig. 206.)
If BO, we may regard them with no common interest ; for the grvater
monuments of that century, after the arrival of Augustiar, wbeu
Christianity was spread throughout the land, are, as (ar aa we
know and are taught to believe, almost utterly perished. Briswotlli
Church, in Northampton.'^hire, which baa been so subjected to
alteration upon alteration that an eng^ving would furnish no
notion of its peculiar early features, is considered by some to have
been erected in the time of the Romans. Hut this very ancient
specimen of ecclesiastical architecture would scarcely be ao
interesting, even if its date were clearly proved, as the decided
remains of some church or monastic buildings of the sixth or seventh
centuries — even of somn building contemporary with our illuitrious
Alfred. There may be i-uch ; but antiquarianism is a jealous and
suspicious questioner, and calls for evidence at every step. We
are told by an excellent authority that "an interesting portion of
the Saxon church erected by Paulinos, or Albert, [at Yorli] has
been recently brought to light beneath the choir of the preaent
cathetlral." (Mr. Wellbeloved, in 'Penny Cyclopedia.*) This
church, founded by Edwin soon after his baptism, was undoubtedly
a stone building ; and it marks the progress of the arts in this
century, that in 669 Bishop Wilfred glazed the windows. The
glass for this purpose seems to have been imported from abroad,
since the famous Benedict Biscop, Abbot of Wearmouth, is recorded
as the first who brought artificers skilled in the art of making
glass into this country from France. (' Pictorial History of
England,' vol. i.)

Wilfred found the church of York in a ruinous state, on taking
possession of the see. He roofed it with lead ; he put glass in the
place of the ancient lattice-work. Time has brought to light
some relics of this church at York, buried beneath the nobler Cathe-
dral of a later ag^. It is probable that the more ancient churches
were as much removed and changed by the spirit of ecclesiastical
improvement as by the course of civij strife. One generation
repaired, amended, swept away the work of previous generations.
We have seen this process in our own limes, when marble columns
have been covered with plaster, and the decorated window with its
gorgeous tracory replaced by a villanous casement. The Norman
church-builders did not so improve upon the Saxon ; but it u still
to be regretted that even their improvements, and those of the
builders who again remodelled the Norman work, have leil us so
little that we can rely upon for a very high antiquity. It would be
something to look upon the church at Kipon which Wilfred built
of polished stone, and adorned with various columns and porticoes ;
or upon that at Hexham, which was proclaimed to have no equal
on this side the Alps. It would be something to find some frag-
ment of tlie paintings which Benedict Biscop brought from Rome
to adorn his churches at Wearmouth and at Yarrow ; but they
perished with his library under the ravaging Danes. More than
all, we should desire to look upon some fragment of that church
which the good and learned Aldhelm built at Malmc»bury, and
whose consecration he has himself celebrated in Latin verses
of considerable spirit. He was a poet, too, in his vernacular
tongue ; and he applied his poetry and his knowledge of music
to higher objects than his own gratification. The great Alfred
himself entered into his note-book the following anecdote of the
enlightened Abbot, which AVilliam of Malmesbury relates :—
" Aldhelm had observed with pain that the peasantry were become
negligent in their religious duties, and that no sooner was the
church service ended than tliey all hastened to their homes and
labours, and could with difficulty be persuaded to tttend to the
exhortations of the preaclii r. lie watched the occasion, and sla-
tioued himself in the cliaracter of a minstrel on the bridge over
which the people had to pss, and soon collected a crowd of hearers
by the beauty of his verse. When he found that he had gained
possession of their attention, he gradually introduced among the
popular poetry which he was reciting to them, words of a more
serious nature, till at length he succeeded in impressing upon their
minds a truer feeling of religious devotion." (Wright's • Biograpbia
Britannica Literaria.') Honoured be the memory of the goo«l
Abbot of Malmesbury !

The identical bridge upon which the minstrel stood has looji

1:2

i«i^«^

2^9,— UcsiJjOCC of a Sax'Mi Xobl inm

22^. - Paxon EmbleinB of Ibe Month of Fcbmary.

SM.— Suon Emblemi of tbe M<ntta of March.

238.— Floogbisg, Sowing, Mowing, Qleanlog, Mcunring Cora, ud U«rrci(4apper.

7il.—Stxoa Embkms of the Month of April.

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book L

ao-o fallen into the narrow stream ; the church to which the preacher
invited the people by gentle words and sweet sounds has been
supplanted by a nobler church, surrounded by the ruins of a gorgeous
fabric of monastic splendour. We may not believe, say the anti-
quaries, that the wonderful porches and the intersecting arclies of
Malmesbury are of Saxon origin. But, in spite of tlie antiquaries,
they must be associated with tlie beautiful memory of Aldhelm.
His name is not now spoken in tliat secluded town ; but the people
there liave still tlieir Saxon memories of ancient days. The poor,
who have extensive common-rights, say that tiiey owe them all to
King Athelstan; the humble children who learn to read in an
ancient building called the Hall of St. John, connect their instruc-
tion with the memory of some great man of old, who wished that
the poor should be taught and tlie indigent relieved, — for over the
ancient porch under which they enter is recorded that a worthy
burgher of Malmesbury in 1694 left ten pounds annually to instruct
tlie poor, in addition to a like donation from King Athelstan ! We
wish that throughout the land there were more such living memorials
of the past, even though they were the mere shadows of tradition.
It is well for the lowly cottagers of Malmesbury that they are in
blissful ignorance that tlie monument of their Saxon benefactor, in
the restored choir of their Abbey Church, belongs to a later period.
They look upon that recumbent effigy with reverence — they keep
the annual feast of Athelstan with rejoicing. The hero-worship of
Malmesbury is that of Athelstan. It has come down from the days
of Saxon song, when the victories of the grandson of Alfred were
thus celebrated : —

" Here Athelstan, Kiug,
of earth tlio lord,

the giver of the bracelets of the nobles,
and liis brother also,
Edmund the J5theling,
the Elder, a lasting glory
won by slaughter in battle
with the edges of sworda
at Bruuenburgh.
The wall of shields they cleaved.
They hewed the nobles' banners."

But Athelstan left the memory of something better than victories.
He was a lawgiver ; and there are traces in his additions to the Code
of Alfred of a public provision for the destitute amongst his subjects.
The traditions of Malmesbury have, we doubt not, a solid founda-
tion. He was a scholar, and collected a library for his private use.
Some of these books were preserved at Bath up to the period of the
Eeformation ; two of these precious manuscripts are in the Cotton
Collection in the British Museum. The Gospels upon which the
Saxon Kings are held to have taken their Coronation oath is one of
them (see Fac-simile of the 1st Chapter of St. John, Fig. 226).
It is not only at Malmesbury that the memory of Athelstan is to be
venerated.

We have already alluded to the change of opinion which is

beginning to take place with regard to the remains of Saxon

architecture existing in this country (p. 54). We do not

profess to discuss controverted points, which would be of sliglit

interest to the general reader ; and we shall therefore find it the

safer course to describe our earliest cathedrals, and other grand

ecclesiastical structures, under the Norman period. But it is now

pretty generally admitted that many of our humble parish churches

may be safely referred to dates before the conquest ; and some of

the characteristic features of these we sliall now proceed to notice.

We believe, curious as this question naturally is, and especially

interesting as it must be at the present day, when our ecclesiastical

antiquities are become objects of such wide-spreading interest, that

no systematic attempt to fix the chronology of .the earliest church

architecture has yet been made. In 1833 Mr. Thomas Hickman

thus wrote to the Society of Antiquaries : — " I was much impressed

by a conversation I had with an aged and worthy dean, who was

speaking on the subject of Saxon edifices, with a full belief that

they were numerous. He asked me if I had investigated those

churches which existed in places where ' Domesday-Book ' states

that a church existed in King Edward's days ; and I was obliged

to confess I liad not paid the systematic attention I ought to have

done to this point ; and I now wish to call the attention of the

Society to the propriety of having a list made of such edifices, that

they may be carefully examined." We are not aware that the

Society has answered the call ; but the course suggested by tlie

aged and worthy dean was evidently a most rational course, and it

is strange that it had been so long neglected. ' Domesday-Book '

records what churches existed in tlie days of Edward the Confessor ;

— does any church exist in the same place now? if so, what is the
character of that church? To procure answers is not a difficult
labour to set about by a Society ; but it is probable that it will b&
accomplished, if at all, by individual exertion. Mr. Eickman has
himself done something considerable towards arriving at the same
conclusions that a wider investigation would, we believe, fully
establish. In 1834 he addressed to the Society of Antiquaries
' Further Observations on the Ecclesiastical Architecture of France
and England,' in which the characteristics of Saxon remains are
investigated with professional minuteness, with reference to buildings
which the writer considers were erected before the year 1010 : —

" As to the masonry, there is a peculiar sort of quoining, which
is used without plaster as well as with, consisting of a long stone
set at the corner, and a short one lying on it, and bounding one
\\ay or both into the wall ; when plaster is used, these quoins are
raised to allow for the thickness of the plaster. Another peculiarity
is the use occasionally of very large and heavy blocks of stone in
particular parts of the work, while the rest is mostly of small
stones ; the use of what is called Roman bricks ; and occasionally
of an arch with straight sides to the upper part, instead of curves.
The want of buttresses may be here noticed as being general in
these edifices, an occasional use of portions with mouldings, much
like Roman, and the use in windows of a sort of rude balustre.
The occasional use of a rude round staircase, west of the tower, for
the purpose of access to the upper floors ; and at times the use of
rude carvings, much more rude than the generality of Norman work,
and carvings which are clear imitations of Roman work. . .

" From what I have seen, I am inclined to believe that there
are many more churches which contain remains of this character,
but they are very difficult to be certain about, and also likely to be
confounded with common quoins, and common dressings in counties
where stone is not abundant, but where flint, rag, and rough rubble
plastered over, form the great extent of walling.

" In various churches it has happened that a very plain arch
between nave and chancel has been left as the only Norman feature,
while both nave and chancel have been rebuilt at different times,
but each leaving the chancel arch standing. I am disposed to think
that some of these plain chancel arches will, on minute examination,
turn out to be of this Saxon style."

Mr. Rickman then gives a list of " twenty edifices in thirteen
counties, and extending from Whittingham, in Northumberland,
north, to Sompting, on the coast of Sussex, south ; and from Barton
on the Humber, on the coast of Lincolnshire, east, to North Bur-
combe, on the west." He justly observes, " This number of churches,
extending over so large a space of country, and bearing a clear
relation of style to each other, forms a class much too important and
extensive to be referred to any anomaly or accidental deviation."
Since Mr. Rickman's list was published many otiier churches have
been considered to have the same " clear relation of style." We shall
therefore notice a few only of the more interesting.

The church of Earl's Barton, in Northamptonshire, is a work of
several periods of our Gothic architecture; but the tower is now
universally admitted to be of Saxon construction (Fig. 209). It
exhibits many of the peculiarities recognised as the characteristics
of this architecture. 1st, We have the " long stone set at the corner,
and a short one lying on it"- — the long and short work, as it is com-
monly called (Fig. 201). These early churches and towers some-
times exhibit, in later portions, the more regular quoined work in
remarkable contrast (Fig. 200). 2nd, The Tower of Earl's Barton
presents the " sort of rude balustre, such as might be supposed to
be copied by a ^ery rough workman by remembrance of a Roman
balustre " (Fig. 202). 3rd, It shows the form of the triangular arch,
which, as well as the balustre, are to be seen in Anglo-Saxon
manuscripts. 4th, It exhibits, " projecting a few inches from the
surface of the wall, and running up vertically, narrow ribs, or
square-edged strips of stone, bearing, from their position, a rude
similarity to pilasters." (Bloxam's ' Gothic Ecclesiastical Archi-
tecture.') The writer of tlie valuable manual we have quoted adds,
" The towers of the churches of Earl's Barton and Barnack, North-
amptonshire, and one of the churches of Barton-upon-Humber,
Lincolnshire, are so covered with these narrow projecting strips of
stonework, that the surface of the wall appears divided into rudely
formed panels." 5th, The west doorway of this tower of Earl's
Barton, as well as the doorway of Barnack, exhibit something like
" a rude imitation of Roman mouldings in the impost and archi-
trave." The larger openings, such as doorways, of these early
churches generally present the semicircular arch ; but tlie smaller,
such as windows, often exhibit the triangular arch (Figs. 20.S,
205). The semicircular arch is, however, found in the windows
of some churches as well as the straight-lined, as at Sompting, in

CUAP. III.J

OLD ENGLAND.

Sussex (Fig. 206). In this cliurch tlie doorway has a coliiinii with :
a rude capital, "having much of a Uomun character" (Fig. 204). |
A doorway remaining of the old palace at Westminster exhibits the |
triangular arcii (Fig. 212). The windows of the same building
present tlie circular arch, with the single zigzag moulding
(Fig. 211).

Illr. Rickman has mentioned tiie plain arcii which is sometimes
found between the chancel and nave, whi(!h he supposes to be >Saxon.
In some churches arches of the same character divide the nave from
the aisles. Such is the case in the ancient ciiurch of St. Michael's,
St. Alban's, of tlie interior of which we give an engraving (Fig.
196). Tlie date of this church is now confidently held to be the
tenth century, receiving the authority of Matthew Paris, who states
that it was erected by the Abbot of St. Alban's in 948.

The church at Bosham, in Sussex, which is associated with the
memory of the uiifi)rtiinato Ilarolii, is represented in the Baycux
tapestry, of wliicli we shall hereafter have fully to speak (Fig. 210).
It is now held that the tower of the " church is of that construction
as to leave little doubt of its being the same that existed when the
church was entered by Harold."

It would be tedious were we to enter into any more minute
description of the Anglo-Saxon ecclesiastical remains. The subject,
however, is still imperfectly investigated : and the reader will be
startled by the opposite opinions that he will encounter if his in-
(piiries conduct him to the more elaborate works which touch upon
this theme. It is singular that, admitting some works to be Saxon,
the proof which exists in the general resemblance of other works is
not held to be satisfactory, without it is corroborated by actual date.
Blr. Britton, for example, to whom every student of our national
antiquities is under deep obligation, especially for having rescued
their delineation from tasteless artists, to present them to our own
age with every advantage of accurate drawing and exquisite en-
graving, thus describes the portion of Edward the Confessor's work
at Westminster which is held to be of the later Saxon age ; but he
admits, with the greatest reluctance, tlie possibility of the existence
of other Saxon works, entire, which earlier antiquaries called Saxon.
(' Architectural Antiquities,' vol. v.) The engraving. Fig. 210,
illustrates Mr. Britton's description : —

" There are considerable remains of one building yet standing,
though now principally confined to vaults and cellaring, which may
be justly attributed to the Saxon era, since there can be no doubt
that they once formed a part of the monastic edifices of Westminster
Abbey, probably the church, which was rebuilt by Edward the
Confessor in the latter years of his life. These remains compose
the east side of the dark and principal cloisters, and range from the
college dormitory on the south to. the Chapter-house on the north.
The most curious part is the vaulted chamber, opening from the
principal cloister, in which the standards for the trial of the Pix
are kept, under the keys of the Chancellor of the Exchequer and
other officers of the Crown. The vaulting is supported by plain
groins and semicircular arches, which rest on a massive central
column, having an abacus moulding, and a square impost capital,
irregularly fluted. In their original state, these remains, which are
now subdivided by several cross walls, forming store-cellars, &c.,
appear to have composed only one apartment, about one hundred
and ten feet in length and thirty feet in breadth, the semicircular
arches of which were partly sustained by a middle row of eight
short and massive columns, with square capitals diversified by a
difference in the sculptured ornaments. These ancient vestiges now
form the basement story of the College School, and of a part of the
Dean and Chapter's Library."

One of the most curious representations "of an Anglo-Saxon
Church is found in a miniature accompanying a Pontifical in the
Public Library at Eouen, which gives the Order for the Dedication
and consecration of Churches. (See Fig. 215, where the engraving
IS accurately stated to be from the Cotton MS.) This miniature,
which is ill black outline, represents the ceremony of dedication.
The bishop, not wearing tlie mitre, but bearing his pastoral stafl^, is
in the act of knocking at the door of the church with this symbol
of his authority. The upper group, beliind the bishop, represents
priests and monks; the lower group exiiibits the laity, who were
accustomed to assemble on such occasions with solemn rejoicing.
The barrels are supposed to contain the water which was to be
blessed and used in tiie dedication. The form of the church, and
tlie accessories of its architecture, are very curious. The perspec-
tive is altogether false, so that we see two sides of the building
at the same time ; and the proportionate size of the parts is quite
disregarded, so that the door reaches almost to the roof. But the
form of the towers, the cock on the steeple, the ornamental iron-work
of the door, show how few essential changes have been produced in

eight hundred or a thousand years. Sam* afcribe thfl date of tbk
manuscript to the eighth century, and Other* to tb« elow of tlio
tenth century. The figures of the bUbop and priest (Fig. 231)
are from the same curious relic of Anglo-Saxon art ; for all am*
that this Pontifical is of English origin. In the ' Archaologia,*
vol. XXV., U a very Interesting description of this manuieript, in a
letter from John Gage, Esq. The writer, in his introductory
remarks, gives some (Mirticulars of the ancient practice of the dedi-
cation of churches : —

" Gregory the Great, in his instruction* to St. Augwrtine, bade
him not destroy the Pagan temples, but the idoU within them;
directing the precinct to l>e purified with holy water, alun to be
raised, and sacred relics deposited ; and because the English were
accustomed to indulge in feasU to their god*, tlie prudent Poatiff
ordained the day of dedication, or the day of tlie nativity of the
Saint in whose honour the Church should be dedicated, a festival,
when the people might liave an opportunity of asaembling, as before
in green bowers round their favourite edifice, and enjoy something
of former festivity. This was the origin of our country wakea,
ru5h-bearings, and church ales." When Archbishop Wilfred had
built his church at Kipon, the dedication was attended by Egfrid,
King of Northumbria, with his brother ^Iwin, and the great men
of his kingdom. The church was dedicated, the altar cousecnted,
the people came and received communion ; and then the Archbishop
enumerated the lalids with which the church was endowed. After
the ceremony the King feasted the people for three days. The
dedication of the church at Winchelcumbe wa* marlied by an event
which showed that the Christian morality did not evaporate in ritual
observances. Kenulf, King of Mercia, with Bishops and Ealdor-
men, was present, and he brought with him Eadbert, the captive
King of Kent. " At the conclusion of the ceremony, Kenulf led
his captive to the altar, and as an act of clemency granted him bis
freedom." This was a more acceptable offering than his distribu-
tion of gold and silver to priests and people. The dedication of the
conventual church at Ramaey is described by the Monk of Bamsey,
who gives some curious details of the architectural construction of
a former clmrcli. In 969 a church had been founded by the Eal-
dorman Aylwin, which is recorded to have been " raised on a solid
foundation, driven in by the battering ram, and to have had two
tOHcrs above the roof : the lesser was in front, at the we*t end ; the
greater, at the intersection of tlie four parts of the building, rested
on four columns, connected together by arches carried from one to
the other. In consequence, however, of a settlement in the centre
tower, which threatened ruin to the rest of the building, it became
necessar)-, shortly after the church was finislied, to take down the
whole and rebuild it." The dedication of this church was accom-
panied by a solemn recital of its charter of privileges. " Then
placing his right hand on a copy of the Gospels, Aylwin swore to
defend the rights and privileges, as well of Bamsey, a* of other
neighbouring churches which were name<!."

But the narrative of the circumstances attending the original
foundation of this church, as related by Mr. Sharon Turner from
the ' History of the Monk of Ramsey,' are singularly instructive a*
to the impulses which led the great and the humble equally to
contribute to the establishment of monastic institutions. They
were told that the piety of the men who had renounced the world
brought blessings on the country ; they were urged to found such
institutions, and to labour in their erection. Thus was the Eal-
dorman, who founded tiie church of Ramsey, instructed by Bishop
Oswald ; and to the spiritual exhortation the powerful man was not
indifferent.

"The Ealdorman replied, that he had some hereditary land
surrounded with marshes, and remote from human ^ intercourse.
It was near a forest of various sorts of trees, wtiich had several
open spots of good turf, and others of fine grass for pasture. No
buildings had been upon it but some sheds for his herds, who had
manured the soil. They went together to view it. They found
that tlie waters made it an island. It was so lonely, and yet had
so many conveniences for subsistence and secluded devotion, that
the bishop decided it to be an advisable station. Artificers were
collected. The neighbourhood joined in the labour. Twelve
monks came from another cloister to form the new fraternity.
Their cells and a chapel were soon raised. In the next winter
they provided the iron and timber, and utensils, that were wanted
for a handsome church. In the spring, amid the fenny soil, a firm
foundation was laid. Tlie workmen laboured as mnckfor derotioit
as for profit. Some brought the stones; others made the cement;
others applied the wheel machinery that raised the stones on high ;
and in a reasonable time the sacred edifice with two towers appeared,
on what had been before a desolate waste." Wordsworth has made

245. — Saxon Kmbloms of th? Month of Mny

"^.-S\

I ^^ /y — ^ *^ -Z' ^

218.— Trombones, or Flntes. (From Uw'Cottcn
MS. Cleopatra.)

24r.— Dinner Party. (Cotton MS.)

249.— Drinking from Cows' Horns. (Cotton MS.)

?■( 6.— Saxon KniMf ms of tlie Month of Jr.no.

s^^-^^ i

ff*

/A\ f.

& ^yy

^W^:

<:aro

2SI.— Suon Emblemi of the montb ot Jolf.

-^ .« -k..— J

»5.— Th.

\vV.l

IM.— Sixoo <mbleina of the month of Angosl.

No. 9.

6£

OLD ENGLAND.

1 Book I.

this description the foundation of one of his fine ' Ecclesiastical

Sketijhes :' —

" By such examples moved to unbouglit pnins,
The people work like congregated bees ;
Eager to build the quiet fortresses
Where Piety, as they believe, obtains
From Heaven a general blessing ; timely rains.
Or needful sunshine ; prosperous enterprise.
And peace and equity."

MoMrchs vied witii the people in what they deemet; a work ac-
ceptable to lieavei:. Westminster Abbey was built by Edward tlie
Confessor, by stlling aside the tenth of his revenue for this holy
purpose. " The devout and pious king has dedicated tiiat place to
God, both for its neighbourliood to the famous and wealthy city,
and for its pleasant situation among fruitful grounds and green
fields, and for the nearness of the principal river of England, «liich
from all parts of the world conveys whatever is necessary to the
adjoining city." Camden quotes this from a contemporary histo-
rian, and adds, " Be pleased also to take the form and figure of this
building out of an old manuscript :— The chief aisle of the church is
roofed witli lofty arches of square work, the joints answering one
another ; but on both sides it is enclosed with a double arch of
stones firmly cemented and knit together. Moreover, the cross of
the church, made to encompass the middle choir of the singers, and
by its double supporter on each side to bear up the lofty top of the
middle tower, first rises singly with a low and strong arch, then
mounts higher with several winding stairs artificially contrived, and
last of all with a single wall reaches to the wooden roof, which is
well covered with lead."

The illuminated manuscripts of the Anglo-Saxon period (and
there are many not inferior in value and interest to the Pon-
tifical which we have recently pointed out) furnish the most authen-
tic materials for a knowledge of the antiquities of our early Church.
It is a subject of which we cannot here attempt to give any con-
nected view. Our notices must be essentially fragmentary. As
works of art we shall have more fully to describe some of the Illumi-
nations which are found in our public and private libraries. In
connection with our church history, it is scarcely necessary for us
to do more than point attention to the spirited representation of
St. Augustine (Fig. 217) ; to the same founder of Christianity
amongst the Anglo-Saxons (Fig. 222) ; to the portrait of St.
Dunstan (Fig. 218) ; and the kneeling figure of the same energetic
enthusiast (Fig. 224). The group representing St. Cuthbert and
King Egfrid (Fig. 219) belongs to the Norman period of art.

The picture history of tho manners and customs of a remote pe-
riod is perhaps more interesting and instructive, is certainly more
to be relied on, than any written description. It is difficult for a
writer not to present the forms and hues of passing things as they
are seen through the glass of his own imagination. But the drafts-
man, especially in a rude stage uf art, is in a great degree a faitliful
copyist of wiiat he sees before him. The paintings and sculptures
of Egypt furnish the best commentary upon many portions of the
Scripture record. The coloured walls of the ruined houses of
Pompeii exhibit the domestic life of the Roman people witli much
greater distinctness than the incidental notices of their poets and
historians. Tliis is especially the case as regards the illuminations
which embellish many Anglo-Saxon manuscripts. Some of these
^ere not intended by the draftsmen of those days to convey any
notion of how the various ranks around them were performing the
ordinary occupations of life : they were chiefly for the purpose
of representing, historically as it « ere, events and personages with
wliich the people were familiarised by their spiritual instructors.
But, knowing nothing of those refinements of art which demand
accuracy of costume, and caring nothing for what we call anacliro-
nisms, the limners of the Anglo-Saxon chronicles and paraphrases
painted the Magi in the habits of their own kings, riding on liorses
with the equipment of the time (Fig. 283) ; they put tlieir
own harp into the hands of the Eoyal Psalmist (Fig. 284) ; and
they exhibited their own methods of interment wlien they delineated
the raising of Lazarus (Fig. 289). There are some, but few,
Anglo-Saxon pictures of a difierent character. They are intended
to represent the industrious occupations, the sports, and tlie enter-
tainments of their own nation. A series of such pictures is found in
a Saxon Calendar, supposed by Mr. Strutt to be written at the com-
mencement of the eleventh century, and which is preserved in the
Cotton Library at tlie British Museum (Tiberius, B. 5). The
Calendar is written partly in Latin, and partly in Saxon. Tiie
pictures represent the characteristic employments of each Month of
the year. The series of engravings of the months, which occupy a

part of thii' and of the previous sheet of our worK, tre principally
founded, with corrections of the drawing, upon the illustrations of
the old Calendar. We probably cannot adopt a more convenient
mode of briefly describing the occupations of our Anglo-Saxon
ancestors, than by following tlie order which these pictorial aj;;!
quities suggest to us.

Januart.

The central portion of the engraving (Fig. 227) represents the
ploughman at his labour. Four oxen are employed in the team,
and tiiey are guided by a man in front, who bears a long staflf. The
sower follows immediately behind tlie plougiiman. Fig. 238,
wiiich is a literal copy from another manuscript, presents, at once,
the operations of ploughing, sowing, mowing, measuring corn into
sacks, and the harvest supper. Fig. 256 is a rude representation,
from the Bayeux tapestry, of the wheel-plough. Fig. 257, from
the same authority, shows ns the sower following the harrow — a
more accurate representation than that of the sower following the
plough. We thus sec that the opening of the year was the time
in which the ground was broken up, and the seed committed to the
bounty of heaven. We cannot with any propriety assume that the
seed was literally sown in the coldest month, although it is possible
that the *Minter began earlier than it now does. December was
emphatically called Winter-monat, winter-month. The Anglo-
Saxon name of January was equally expressive of its fierce and
gloomy attributes ; its long nights, wlien men and cattle were
sheltering from the snow-storm and the frost, but the hungry wolf
was prowling around the homestead. Verstegan says, " The month
which we now call January, they called Wolf-monat, to nit, wolf-
month, because people are wont always in that month to be in more
danger to be devoured of wolves than in any season else of the
year ; for that, through the extremity of cold and snow, these
ravenous beasts could not find of other beasts sufficient to feed
upon." We must consider, therefore, that the Saxon emblems for
January are rather indicative of the opening of the year than of
the first month of the year. There are preserved in the Cotton
Library some very curious dialogues composed by Alfric of
Canterbury, who lived in the latter part of the tenth century,
which were for the instruction of the Anglo-Saxon youth in the
Latin language, upon the principle of interlinear translation ; and
in these the ploughman says, " I labour much. I go out at day-
break, urging the oxen to the field, and I yoke them to the plough.
It is not yet so stark winter that I dare keep close at home, for
fear of my lord." (Turner's ' Anglo-Saxons.') We thus see that
the ploughing is done after the harvest, before the winter sets in.
The ploughman continues, " But the oxen being yoked, and tlie
shear and coulter fastened on, I ought to jilough every day one
entire field or more. I have a boy to threaten the oxen with a
goad [the long staff represented in the engraving], who is now
hoarse through cold and bawling. I ought also to fill the bins of the
oxen with hay, and water them, and carry .out their soil." The
daily task of the ploughman indicates an advanced state of hus-
bandry. The land was divided into fields ; we know from Saxon
grants that they had hedges and ditches. ' He was as careful, too,
to carry upon the land the ordure of the oxen, as if he had studied
a modern ' Muck-Manual.' He knew the value of such labour,
and set about it probably in a more scientific manner than many of
those who till the same land nine hundred years after him. Mr.
Sharon Turner has given a brief and sensible account of the Anglo-
Saxon husbandry, from which the following is an extract: —

" Wlien the Anglo-Saxons invaded England, they came into a
country which had been under the Roman power for about four
hundred years, and where agriculture, after its more complete
subjection by Agricola, had been so much encouraged, that it had
become one of tlie western granaries of the empire. The Britons,
therefore, of the fifth century may be considered to have pursued
the best sj'stem of husbandry then in use, and their lands to have
been extensively cultivated with all those exterior circumstances
which mark established proprietorship and improvement : as small
farms ; inclosed fields ; regular divisions into meadow, arable,
pasture, and wood ; fixed boundaries ; planted hedges ; artificial
dykes and ditches; selected spots for vineyards, gardens, and
orchards ; connecting roads and paths ; scattered villages, and
larger towns ; with appropriated names for every spot and object
that marked the limits of each property, or the course of each way.
All these appear in the earliest Saxon charters, and before tiie
combating invaders had time or ability to make them, if they had
not found them in the island. Into such a country the Anglo-
Saxon adventurers came, and by these fiicilities to rural civilization
soon became an agricultural people. The natives, whom they

Chap. III.]

OLD ENGLAND.

despised, conquered, and enslaved, became their educatoni and
servants in the new arts, wliicli tliey had to learn, of gazing and
tillage ; and the previous cultivation practised by the Romaniied
Britons will best account for the nunicrous divisions, and accurate
ami precise descriptions of land which occur in almost all the Saxon
charters. No nioderii conveyance could more accurately distinguish
or describe the boundaries of the premises which it conveyed."
(* History of the Anglo-Saxons,' Vol. III., Appendix, No. 2.)

The side emblems of January (Fig. 227) are from manuscripts
wliicii incidentally give appropriate pictures of the seasons. The
man bearitjg fuel and the two-headed .Tanus belong the one to
literal and tlie other to learned art. It is difficult to understand
how we retained the names of the week-days from Saxou i>ag^nisni,
and adopted the classical names of the months.

Februakv.

" They called February Sproui-kele, by kele meaning (he kele-
wort, which wc now call the cole-wort, the great pot-wort in time
long past that our ancestors used ; and the broth made therewith
was tiifireof also called kele. For before we borrowed from the
French the name of polage, and the name of herb, the one in our
own language was called kele, and the other wort ; and as the
kele-wort, or potage herb, was the chief winter wort for tlie sus-
tenance of the husbandman, so was it the first herb tiiat in this
mouth began to yield out wiiolesome young sprouts, and consequently
gave thereunto the name of Sprout-kele." So writes old Verstegan ;
and, perhaps, if we had weighed earlier what he thus affirms, we
might have better understood Shakspere when he sings of the wintry
time,

"While gicnsy Joan doth lielc the pot. "

The Siixon pictures of February show us the chilly man warming
his hands at the blazing fire; and the labourers more healthily
employed in tlie woods and orchards, pruning their fruit-trees and
lopping their timber (Fig. 228). Spenser has mingled these em-
blems in his description of January, in the 'Faery Queen ;' but he
carries ou the pruning process into February: —

"Then camo old Januai-y, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away ;
Yet did ho quake and quiver like to quoU,
And blow his nails to warm them if lie may ;
For thoy were numh'd with holding all tlie day
An liatohct keen, witli which lie felled wood
And from the trees did lop the necdlesii spray.'

March.

The picture in the Saxon Calendar (Fig 1^36) now gives us dis-
tinctly the seed-time. But the tools of the labourers are the spade
and the pickaxe. We are looking upon the garden operations of our
industrious forefathers. They called this month " Lcnet-monat,"
length-month (from the lengthening of the days) ; " and this montii
being by our ancestors so called when they received Christianity,
and consequently therewith the ancient Christian custom of fasting,
they called this chief season of fasting the fast of Lenet, because of
the Lenet-monat, wherein the most parts of the time of this fasting
always fell."

Tlie great season of abstinence from flesh, and the regular recur-
rence through the year of days of fasting, rendered a provision
for the supply of fish to the population a matter of deep concern to
their ecclesiastical instructoj-s. In the times when the Pagan Saxons
were newly converted to Cliristianity, the missionaries were the
great civilizers, and taught the people how to avail themselves of
the abundant supply of food whicli the sea offered to the skilful and
the enterprising. Bede tells us that Wilfred so taught the people
of Sussex. " The bishop, when he came into the province, and found
so great misery of famine, taught them to get tiieir food by fisiiing.
Their sea and rivers abounded in fish, and yet the people had no
skill to take them, except only eels. The bishop's men having
gathered eel-nets everywhere, cast t'iem into the sea, and by the
help of God took three hundred fishes of several sorts, the which
being divided into tiiree parts, they gave a hundred to the poor, a
hundred to those of whom they had the nets, and kept a hundred
for their own use." The Anglo-Saxons had oxen and sheep ; but
their chief reliance for flesh meat, especially through the winter
season, was upon the swine, which, although private property, fetl by
thousands in the vast woods with which the country abounded. Our
word liucon is " of the beechen-tree, anciently called bitcon, and
whereas swine's flesh is now called by the name of bacon, it grew
only at the first unto such as were fatted with bncon or beech mast."
As abundant as the swine were the eels that flourished in their
ponds and ditches. 'I'he consumption of this species of fish appears

from many incid«ital drauoMtanew to have bew vccj great. B««to
were paid in eeU, bouiidarlei of lamia were defliMd bjr eeUljrkaa,
and the mona*teri«t required a riigular aupply of eela Anm ibetr
tenants and dependent*. We And, however, iliat the people had a
variety of fiah, if they could afliird to purchaie of the lndu«lriou«
lalMurcn in the deep. In the ' Dialogue* of Alfric,' which we have
already quoted from Mr. Turner, there \t the followiug eoQeqw
with a fiiiliennan : "What gettcxt thou by thine art? — Big loftvai,
clothing, and money. How do you take ihcm?— I aaeend mjr ahlp,
and cast my net into tlie river ; I aLw throw in a hook, a bait,
and a rod. Suppoie the fishes are unclean? — ^I throw the unclean
out, and lake the clean for food. Where do you sell your ft»li? —
In the city. Who buys them?— The citizens; I cannot lake so
many as I can sell. What fishes do you take? — F>ls, liaddocks,
■ninnies, and cel-jmuts, skate and lampreys, and whatever swims in
the river. Why do you not ftsh in the sea? — Sometimes I do ; but
rarely, liecause a great ship is neceMary there. What do you take
in the sea? — Herrings and salmons, porpcrises, sturgrons, oysters
and crabs, muscles, winckles, cockl(«t, flounders, plaice, lobsters,
and such like. Can you take a Whale? — No, it is dangerous to take
a whale; it is safer for me to go to the river with my ship than to
go with many ships to hunt whaloi. Why? — Because it is more
pleasant fur lue to take fish which I can kill with one blow; yet
many take whales without danger, and then they get a great price;
but I dare not from the fearfulness of my mind." We thtu see
that three centuries after Wilfred had taught the people of Sussex
to obtain something more from the waters than the rank eels in
their mud-ponds, the produce of the country's fishery had becoiuo
ail article of regular exchange. The citizens bought of the fisher-
man as much fish as he could sell ; the fisherman obtained big loavei
and clothing from the citizens. The enterprise which belongs to
the national character did not rest satisfied with the herrings and
salmons of the sea. Though the little fisherman crept along his
shore, there were others who went with many ships to hunt whales.
We cannot have a more decisive indication of the general improve-
ment which had followed in the wake of Christianity, even during a
period of constant warfare with predatory invaders.

April.

The illumination of the Saxon Calendar for this month represent*
three persons elevated on a sort of tlirnne, each with drinking-cups
in their hands, and surrounded with attendants upon their festivitie*
(Figs. 237, 267). Strutt, in his description of this drawing, says,
" Now, taking leave of the laborious husbandman, we see the noble-
man regaling witii his friends, and passing this pleasant month in
banquetings and music." But he assigns no cause for the appro-
priateness of this jollity to the particular season. Is not this pic-
ture an emblem of the gladness with which the great festival of
F^aster was held after tlie self-denials of Lent? April was called
by the Anglo-Saxons " by the name of Oster-monat ; some think,
of a goddess called Gostcr, whereof I see no great reason, for if it
took appellation of such a goddes* (a supposed causer of the easterly
win<ls), it seemeth to have been somewhat by some miswritten, and
should rightly be Oster and not Goster. The wimls indeed, by
ancient observation, were found in this month most commonly to
blow from the c;isf, and east in the Teutonic is Ost, and Ost-end,
which rightly in English is East-end, hath that name for the
eastern situation thereof, as to the ships it appeareth which through
tiie narrow seas do come from the west. So as our name of the
feast of E;ister may be as much to say as the feast of Oster, being
yet at this present in Saxony called Ostem, which cometh of
Oster-monat, their and our old name of April." Tha«e who are
l)anqneting on the dais in the illumination, have each cups in their
hands ; the man sitting at their feet is filling a horn from a
tankard ; the young man on the right is drinking from a horn.
There is a clear distinction between the rank of the persons assem-
bled at this festivity ; and the difference of the vessels which tliey
are using for their potations might imply that the horns were filled
with the old Saxon ale or mead, and the cups with the more luxu-
rious wine. In Alfric's Colloquy a lad is asked what he drank ;
and he answers, " Ale if I have it, or water if I liave not." He
is further asked why he does not drink wine, and he replies, " 1 am
not so rich that I can buy me wine, and wine is not the drink of
children or the weak-mindetl, but of the elders and the wise," But
if we may reason from analogy, the drinking-horn had a greater im-
portance attached to it than the drintingKrup. Inheritances of land
were fransferreil by the transfer of a horn ; estates were held in
fee by a honi. The horn of Ulp!ius (Fig. 292) is a remarkable
curiositv still preserved in the Sacristy o*" the Cathedral at York.

K 2

163.— Saxon Emblems of the month of September.

r^4

■JV\

265. — Dinner. The Company pledging each other. (Cotton MS.)

itv'

261 —Saxon Emblems of the month of October.

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book L

Ulplius was a Danish nobleman of the time of Canute, who, as
Camden informs us, "By reason of the difference which was like to
rise between his sons about the sharing of his lands and lordships
afler his death, resolved to make them all alike ; and thereupon
coming to York with that horn wherewith he was used to drink,
filled it with wine, and kneeling devoutly before the altar of God
and St. Peter, prince of the apostles, drank the wine, and by that
. ceremony enfeoffed this church with all his lands and revenues."
During the Civil Wars the horn of Ulphus came into the possession
of Lord Fairfax, after being sold to a gohL^mith ; and it was subse-
quently restored to the church by the Fairfax family in 1675. The
Pusey family in Berkshire hold their possessions by a horn given to
their ancestors by King Canute (Fi^. 290). So Camden informs us ;
though the inscription upon the horn which records the fact (Fig.
291) is held by Camden's editor, Bishop Gibson, to be of a much
•inore recent date. Nearly all the Saxon representations of convi-
vial meetings — and these are sufficiently numerous to furnish pretty
clear evidence of the hospitality of that age — exhibit tlie guests for
the most part drinking from horns (Fig. 249). AVhethcr the wine
tir mead were drunk from horn or cup, the early custom of pledging
^ippears to have been universal (Fig. 2Co). According to the old
•chroniclers, it was the first wine-pledge that delivered over Britain
to the power of the Saxons, when the beautiful Rowena sat down in
the banqueting-hall by the side of Vortigern, and betrayed him by
her wine-cup, and her Waes Heal (Be of health). Eobert of Glo-
cester lias recorded this first wassail in his rough rhyme, which has
i)oen thus paraplirased :

" ' Health, my Lord King,' the sweet Eoweiia said ;
' Health,' cried the Chieftain to tlie Saxon maid ;
Tlien gaily rose, and, 'mid the concourse wide.
Kissed her hale lips, and placed her by his side.
At the soft scene such gentle thoughts abound,
That healtlis and kisses 'mongst the guests went round :
From this the social custom took its rise ;
We still retain and still must keep the prize.'

*Selden, who gives the story in his Notes to Drayton, conjectures of
■the wassail of the English tliat it was " an unusual ceremony among
tlie Saxons before Hengist, as a note of healtii-wishing (and so per-
haps j'ou might make it wisli-heil), which was expressed among
other nations in that form of drinking to the health of their mis-
tresses and friends."

May.

Spenser has clothed his May with all the attributes of poetry : —
" Then came fair May, the fairest maid on gi'ound,
Deek'd all with dainties of her season's pride.
And throwing flowers out of her lap around :
Upon two Brethren's shoulders she did ride.
The Twins of Leda ; which on either side
Supported her like to their sovereign Queen :
Lord ! how all creatures laugh'd when her tlicy spied ,
And leap'd and danc'd as they had ravish'd been.
And Cupid self about her fluttered all in green."

The Saxon name of the mouth has a pastoral charm about it
■which is as delightful as the gorgeous imagery of the great poet.
■" The pleasant month of IMay they termed by the name of Tri-
milki, because in that month they began to milk their kine tiiree
times in the day." The illumination of the Calendar carries us into
the pleasant fields, where the sheep are nibbling the thymy grass,
nd the old shepherd, seated upon a bank, is looking upon the lamb
1 hich the labourer bears in his arms. The shepherd describes his
■ .luty in the Colloquy of Alfric : " In the first part of the morning
4 drive my sheep to their pasture, and stand over them in heat and
tin cold with dogs, lest the wolves destroy tlu'ra. "I lead them back to
their folds and milk them twice a day, and I move their folds, and
make cheese and butter ; and I am faithful to my lord." The gar-
ments of the Anglo-Saxons, both male and female, wore linen as
well as woollen ; but we can easily judge that in a country whose
population was surrounded by vast forests and dreary marshes, wool,
the warmer material of clotiiing, would be of the first importance.
TiiC fleece which the shepherd brought home in the pleasant sunnner
season was duly spun throughout the winter, by the females of
every family, whatever miglit be their rank. King Edward the
Elder comir.anded tiiat his daughters should be instructed in the use
of tlie distaff. Alfred, in his will, called the female part of his family
the spindle side. At this day, true to their ancient usefulness (the form
• of which, we hope not the substance, has passed away), unmarried
ladies are called spinsters. But the Anglo-Saxon ladles attained a
-iiigh degree of skill in tlie ornamental work belonging to clothing.

Tlie Norman historians record their excellence with the needle,
and their skill in embroidery. Minute descriptions of dress are not
amongst the most amusing of reading, although they are highly
valuable to the systematic chronicler of manners. It may be suffi-
cient for us to point attention, first to the cloaks, the plain and em-
broidered tunics, and the shoes of the males (Fig. 285, and inciden-
tally in other F:'gures). These were the loose and flowing garments
of the superior classes, a costume certainly of great beauty. The
close tunic of the labourers (Fig. 255) is distinguished by the same
fitness for the rank and occupation of the wearers. The practice
of bandaging or cross-gartering the hose is indicated in man)' .'Vnglo-
Saxon drawings (Figs. 284, 288). Secondly, the ladies wore a long
and ample garment with loose sleeves (the gunna, whence our
gown), over a closer-fitting one, which had tight sleeves reaching
to the wrist ; over these a mantle was worn by the superior classes,
and a sort of hood or veil upon the head (Figs. 286, 287). Those
who desire further information upon the subject of the Anglo-Saxon
costume may consult Mr. Plancho's valuable little work upon
'British Costume,' or the ' Pictorial History of England,' Book II.,
Chap. VI.

June.

The emblem which we have given for this month (Fig. 24G) is
assigned to July in the Saxon Calendar; but Mr. Strutt is of
opinion that the illuminator transposed the emblems of June and
July, as there would be no leisure for felling trees during the
harvest time, which is represented in the original as taking place
in June and in August. The field operations of August are pro-
perly a continuation of those of July, according to Mr. Strutt.
But it is not improbable that the hay harvest was meant to be re-
presented by one illumination, and the grain harvest by the other.
June was called by a name which describes the pasturing of cattle
in the fields not destined for winter fodder. These were the
meadows, which were too wet and rank for the purposes of hay.
The blythe business of hay-making was upon the uplands. Verste-
gan says : " Unto June they gave the name of Weyd-monat, be-
cause their beasts did then weyd in the meadows, that is to say, go
to feed there, and thereof a meadow is also in the Teutonic called
a weyd, and of weyd we yet retain our word wade, which we under-
stand of going through watery places, such as meadows are wont to
be." The felling of trees in the height of summer, when the sap was
up, was certainly not for purposes of timber. It was necessary to pro-
vide a large supply of fuel for winter use. In grants of land sufficient
wood for burning was constantly permitted to be cut ; and every
estate had its appropriate quantity of wood set out for fuel and for
building.

July.

This was the Ileu-monat or Iley-monat, the Hay-month. The
July of Spenser bears the scythe and the sickle : —

" Behind his back a scythe, and by his aide
Under liis belt he bore a sickle circling wide.''

These instruments were probably indifferently used in the har-
vests of the Anglo-Saxons, as they still are in many of our English
counties (Figs. 254, 258).

August.

This was especially the harvest-month. "August they call
Arn-monat, more rightly Barn-monat, intending thereby the then
filling of their barns with corn." The arable portion of an estate
was probably comparatively small. The population of the towns
was supplied with corn from the lands in their immediate vicinity.
There was no general system of exchange prevailing throughout
the country. In the small farms enough corn was grown for do-
mestic use ; and when it failed, as it often did, before the succeed-
in"- harvest, the cole-wort and the green pulse were the welcome
substitutes. Wheaten bread was not in universal use. The young
monks of the Abbey of St. Edmund ate the cheaper barley bread.
The baker, in Alfric's Colloquy, answers to the question of " What
use is your art? we can live long witho\it you:" — " You may live
through some space without my art, but not long nor so well ; for
without my craft every table would seem empty, and without bread
all meat would become nauseous. I strengthen the heart of man,
and little ones could not do without me." In the representation
of a dinner-party (Fig. 247), some food is placed on the table ; but
the kneelinn- servants offer the roasted meat on spits, from which
the guests cut slices into their trenchers. We smile at these
primitive manners, but they were a refinement upon those of the
heroes of Homer, who were Uieh' own cooks.

CUAI-. 111.]

OLD ENGLANU.

" Potroclus did hU dear friend's will ; and ho tliat did desire
To cliuiir tliu lords (como fuiut from flglit) net on a blazing flro
A great hriiRS pot, uiid into it n cliino of mutton put.
And flit goat's flusli ; Automudon held, wliilo ho piwoii cut
To roiuit iind boil, right cunningly : then of a well-fed iiwinp,
A huge flit islionlder ho cuts out, nnd KpitH it wondrotiH flne :
Ilia good friend miido a goodly flro ; of which the force once p.i»t,
IIo laid the npit low, near tho coills, to niulio it brown ut limt :
Then nprinklcd it with sacred suit, and took it from the rucks :
This rousted anil on dresser sot, his friend PutrocliM tidies
Jlrcad in fiiir biiHl.cts ; which sot on, Achilles brought tho meat,
And to divinoHt Itliucus took his opposed scat
Upon the bench : then did hu will his friend to sacriflco ;
Wlio cnst sweet iM-enso in tho fire, to uU tho Deities.
Tliiid fell they to tlair ready food."

CuArMis's Tbikslatiox o» the Iuad, Book ix.

An illumination amongst the Ilarleian Maniiscri|it8 exhibiU to
us nn iiiterestitig part of the economy of a lord's house in the Snxon
times. In liie fori'jjround are collected some poor pcoi)Ie, aged
men, women, and children, who are storing in their visBiels, or
humbly wailing to receive, the provisions which the lord and the
lady are distributing at their hall door. It was from this highest
of the occupations of tlie rich and powerful, the succour of the
needy, that the early antiquaries derived our titles of I^ord and
Lady. The modern etymologists deny the correctness of this
derivation, and niaintnin that the names are simply derived from a
Sa.xou verb which means to raise up, to exalt. Ilorne Tooke, in
his ' Diversions of Purley,' maintains this opinion ; and our recent
dictionary-makers adopt it. Nevertheless, we shall transcribe old
Veri-tegan's ingenious notion of the origin of the terms, which has
something higher and better in it than mere word-splitting: "I
find that our ancestors used for Lord the name of Laford, which (as
it siiould seem) for oome aspiration in the pronouncing, they wrote
Hlaford, and Hlafurd. Afterwards it grew to be written Loverd,
and by receiving like abridgement as other of our ancient appellations
have done, it is in one syllable become Lord. To deliver therefore
the true etymology, the reader shall understand, that albeit we
have our name of bread from Breod, as our ancestors were wont to
call it, yet used they also, and that most commonly, to call bread
by the name of Illaf, from whence we now only retain the name of
the form or fashion wherein bread is usually made, calling it a loaf,
whereas loaf, coming of Hlaf or Laf, is riglitly also bread itself,
and was not of our ancestors taken for the form only, as now we
use it. Now wa.s it usual in long foregoing ages, tliat such as
were endued with great w^ealth and means above others, were
chiefly renowned (especially in these norihern regions) for their
house-keeping and good hospitality ; that is, for being able, and
iising to feed and sustain many men, and therefore were they par-
ticularly honoured with the name and title of Hlaford, which is as
much to say, as an afforder of Laf, that is, a bread-giver, intending
(as it seemeth) by bread, the sustenance of man, that being the
substance of our food the most agreeible to nature, and that which
in our daily prayers we especially desire at the hands of God.
The name and title of lady was anciently written Hleafdian, or
Leafdian, from whence it came to be Lafdy, and lastly Lady. I
have showed here last before how Illaf or Laf was sometime our
name of bread, as also the reason why our noble and principal men
came to be honoured in the name of Laford, which now is LortI,
and even the like in correspondence of reason must appear in this
name of Leafdian, the feminine of Laford ; the first syllable whereof
being anciently written Illeaf, and not Illaf, must not therefore
alienate it from the like nature and sense, for that only seemeth
to have been the feminine sound, and we see that of Leafdian we
have not retained Leady, but Lady. Well then both Illaf and
Hleaf, we must iiere understand to signify one thing, which is
oread ; Dian is as mucli to say as serve ; and so is Leafdian a bread-
server. Whereby it appearelh that as the Laford did allow food
and sustenance, so the Leafdian did see it served and disposed to
the guests. And our ancient and yet continued custom that our
ladies and gentlewomen do use to carve and serve their guests at the
table, which in other countries is altogether strange and unusual
doth for proof hereof well accord and correspond with this our
ancient and honourable feminine appellation."

September.
The illumination of the Saxon Calendar for this month exhibits
the chace of tiie wild boar in the woods, where he fattened on
acorns and beech-masts. The Saxon name of the month was
Gerst-monat, or Barley-month; the month either of the barley
harvest or the barley beer making. But the pictorial representa-
tion of September shows us the bold hunting with dog and boar-
spear. The old British breed of strong hounds, excellent for

liuuting and war. which Sirabo <l«MribM u cxi>orti«l to oiImv
countries, wa« proliably uot rxtinet. Even lL« watt pnpuliHi*
places were surrounded with thick wooils, wb«t« the boar, the wolf,
and the bear lurk^i, or came forth to attack il « unkapfi^ wmfl
faier. l.oinlon was boundeil by a gnmt (biwi, Vlu^iyktu
says, writing in the reign of Henry iha Seoood— ••On ibe north Mr-
Are fiehlii for pasture and open incadows rtry plouant, w fw w ig
which the river waters do flow, and the wlierls of the mills nn-
turned ab<jut with a delightful noiM*. Very Mar li«Ui « hiw
forest, in « inch are woody grove* ol wild bi-asls in the C0T«rto^
whereof do lurk bucks and does, wild Ixmrs and bulls." All rank*
of the Anglo-Saxons delighted in the chace. 'J'ho young uobica were
trained to hunting after their school-days of Latin, as we ar« told
in Asser's ' Life of Alfred.' Harold Harrfoot, tb« king, wm ao
calleil from his twiAncss in the fuot-chace. The beating tlie woudi
for the boar, as represented in Fig. 231, was a service of danger,
and therefore fitted for the training of a warlike people.

OcTOBEn.

This was the Wyn-monat, the Wins month of the Angio-.Saxoua.
Spenser's personification of the month is an image of " OM Ent;-

land :"—

" Then cnmc Oclolicr full of uu-rry kIm ;
Fur yet his noulo was totty of the must,
VDiilo he was trending in the wine-fat's sen.
And of the joyous oil, whose gentle gost
Made him so frolic and so foil of last."

The illumination of the Saxon Calendar (Fig. 264) sliowa as ttw
falconer with his hawk on fist, ready to let her down the wind at
the heron or the wild duck. Other illuminations of this early
period exiiibit the grape-picker and the grjpe-prejMier. The wine-
press of the time will ap|H.-ar in a sut)<>equent page Much lias becis
written upon the ancient culture of the vine in KngUnd. Rcil«
iiays, " The island excels for grain and tree>, and is fit for fecriiny
of beasts of burden and cattle. It also pniduces vines in sonM>
places." The later chroniclers, who knew the fact, quote Bed*
without disputing his assertion. AVinchester, according to some of
the earlier antiquaries, derived its name from Vintonia, the city of
the vine; but this is very questionable. The Bi.>liop of RocliMtri
had a vii.eyard at Hailing; and one of the bi»hop«, as Lambonle
tails us, sent to EdwanI II. "a present of his drinks, and withal belli
wine and grapes of his own g^wth in his vineyard at Hailing,
which is now a good plain meadow." The same authority says,
" History hath mention that there was about that time [the Normaii
invasion | great store of vines at Santlac [Battle]." He has a
parallel instance of the early culture of the vine: — "The liliP'
whereof I have read to have been at Windsor, insomuch as tithe of
them hath been there yielded in great plenty ; which giveth me ti»
think that wine hath been made long since within the rmlm.
although in our memory it he accounted a great dainty to bear of."
Lambardc then particularly describes the tithe of the Windsor vine-
yard, as " of wine pressed out of g^rapes that grew in the little park
there, to the Abbot of Waliham ; and that accompts have bent
made of the charges of planting the vines tliat g^w in the caid
park, as also of making the wines, whereof some parts were spent in
the household, and some sold for the king's profit." This is aa
approach to a wine-manufacture upon a lai>g^ scale. There am be-
little doubt that many of the great monasteries in the South of
England had their vineyards, and made the wine for the nse of their
fraternities. They might not carry the manufacture so far as i<>
sell any wine for their profit ; but the vineyard and the wine-prt?*,*
saved them the cost of foreign wines, for their labour was of little
account. The religious houses founded in the Anglo-Saxon perioii''
had probably, in many cases, their vineyanls as well as their
orchards. There is an express record of a vineyard at Saint K<l-
mundsbury ; Martin, Abbot of Peterborough, is recorded in the
Saxon Chronicle to have planted a vineyard; William Thorn, tlir
monastic chronicler, writes that in his abbey of Nordhome tlte-
vineyard was " ad commodum et magnum honorem " — a profitablc
and celebrate<l vineyard. Vineyanls are repeatedly mentioned in.
Domesday- Book. William of Mahnesbury thus notices vineyard*
in his description of the abundance of the County of Glooeester: —
" No county in England has so many or so good vineyardi as tbi«.
either for fertility or sweetness of the grape. The vine has in it no
unpleasant tartness or eagerness [sourness, from aiffre], and is little
inferior to the French in sweetness." Cam<len, in quoting thi.«
passage, adds, " We are not to wonder that .mj many places in tbi«>
country from their vines are called vineyards, because they aflbrdoi
plenty of wine ; and that they yield none now is rather to be im-
puted to the sloth of tlic inhabitants thar the indispantina of tn*-

530 —The Posoy Horn.

i Wii^-)s&iiwakwiwiim^MMc^

' 'iWmmm-^^mi JToriT^^T?

[illiimillniiiliminmiummiiniMiiiiiiiin«7r

233. -Royal Costume, and the Harness and Eqnlpment of lIors«s. (Cotton MS.)

291.— Facsimilo of Iho Inscription on th« Posey Horn.

2S5.— Saxon Cloaks, Plain and Embroidered Tunics, and Shoes. (Cotton MS.)

286. — Costume of a Female, exhibiting
the under and upper sleeved Tunic,
the Mantle and flood. (Harlf'ian
MS.)

287.— Anglo-Saxon Females. The standing figure is
Klheldryiha, a Princess of East Anglia, from the
Uiuedictional of St. Ethelwold.

288.— Civil Costume of the Anglo-Saxons.

2S9.— The Coffin aud Grave-cIothcs. From a Picture of the Raising of Lazarus, in Cotton MS. Nero, C. i.

296.— 'Entrance of the Miae of Odlo, u ouclaot Letd-Ulor la DerbjthliT.

3t3.-WtM-fnn. (OMMin.)

295.— Smithy : a Harper in the other compartmrnt. (From Cation MS.)

No. 10.

V* - Aii«l»«axoa Map oftb* Testt OaUiy.

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book I.

climate." This que.'tion of the ancient growtli of the vine in
England was the subject of a regular antiquarian passage-at-arms
in 1771, when the Honourable Daines Barrington entered the lists
to overthrow all the chroniclers and antiquaries, from William of
Malmesbury to Samuel Pegge, and to prove tiiat the English grapes
were currants — that the vineyard.s of Domesday-book and other
ancient records were nothing but gardens — that the climate of
England would never have permitted the ripening of grapes for
wine. The throng of partisans to this battle-field was prodigious.
The Antiquarian Society inscribed the paper pellets sliot on this
occasion as " The Vineyard Controversy."

We have no hesitation in believing tliat those who put faith in
the truth of the ancient records were right ; — that vineyards were
plentiful in England, and tliat wine was made from the English
grapes. It was not a change in the climate, nor tlie sloth of the
people, that rendered the vineyards less and less profitable in every
age, and finally produced their complete extinction. The wine of
France was largely imported info England soon after the Norman
Conquest. It is distinctly recorded that a passion for French wines
was a cliaracteristic of the court and the nobility in the reign of
Henry III. The monks continued to cultivate their vines, — as in
the suimy vale of Beaulieu, where the abbey, wliich King John
founded, had its famous vineyard ; but the great supply of wine,
even to the diligent monks, was from the shores of France, where
the vine could be cultivated upon the commercial principle. Had
tlie English under the Plantagenets persevered in the home cul-
tivation of the vine for the purpose of wine-making, whilst the
claret of a better vine-country, that could be brought in a few hours
across the narrow sea, was excluded from our ports, the capital of
England would have been fruitlessly wasted in struggles against
natural disadvantages, and tlie people of England would have been
for the most part deprived of the use and enjoyment of a superior
drink to their native beer. Tlie English vineyards were gradually
changed into plain meadows, as Lambarde has said, or into fertile
corn-fields. Commercially the vine could not be cultivated in
England, whilst the produce of tiie sunny liills of France was
more accessible to London and Winchester than the corn which
grew in the nearest inland county. The brethren of a monastery,
whose labour was a recreation, might continue to prune their vines
and press tiieir grapes, as tlieir Saxon ancestors had done befoi-e
tliem ; but for the people generally, wine would have been a luxury
unattainable, had not the porls of Sandwich and Southampton
been freely open to the cheap and excellent wine of the French
provinces. This is the course of every great revolution in the
mode of supplying the necessities, or even the luxuries, of a people
amongst whom the principle of exchange has been established.
The home growth for a while supplies the home consumption.
A cheaper and better supply is partially obtained tlirough ex-
change and easy communication — from anotlier parish, another
county, another province, and finally from another country. Then
the home growth lingers and declines ; capital is diverted into other
channels, where it can be more profitably employed. Governments
then begin to strive against the natural commercial laws, by the
establishment of restrictive or prohibitory duties. A struggle goes
on, perhaps prolonged for centuries, between the restrictions and
the principle of exchange. The result is certain. The law of
exchange is a law of progress ; the rule of restriction is a rule of
retrogression. The law of exchange goes on to render the com-
munications of mankind, even of those who are separated by mighty
oceans, as easy as the ancient communications of those who were
only separated by a river or a mountain. The rule of restriction,
generation after generation, and year after year, narrows its circle,
■which was first a wide one, and held a confiding people within its
fold ; but, as it approaches to the end, comes to contain only a class,
then a few of the more prejudiced of a class, and lastly, those who
openly admit that the rule is for their exclusive benefit. The
meadows and the corn-fields of England have profitably succeeded
her unprofitable vineyards ; and the meadows and the corn-fields
■will flourish because the same law of exchange that drove out the
vineyards will render the home exchange of corn and meat more
profitable, generally, to producer and consumer than the foreig:::
exchange. England is essentially a corn-growing and a mutton-
growing country; and v.e have no fear that lier fields will have
lailing crops, or her downs not be white with flocks, if the law of
exchange should free itself from every restriction. England was
not a wine-growing country, and tlierefore her vineyards perished
before the same natural laws that will give the best, because the
most steady, encouragement to her bread-growing and beer-growing
capacity.

NOVEMBEK.

This was the Wint-monat, the wind-montli, of the Anglo-Saxons.
Its emblems were the blazing hearth and the swine-killing (Fig.
273). The great slaughter-time was come, — the days of fresh
meat were passing away. The beeves, and the sheep, and tlie hogs,
whose store of green feed was now exhausted, were doomed to the
salting-tubs. The Martinmas beef, — the beef salted at the feast
of St. Martin — is still known in the northern parts of the island ;
and the proverb which we adopted from Spain " His Martinmas
will come, as it does to every hog," speaks of a destiny as inevitable
as the fate of the acorn-fed swine at the salting season.

Mr. Strutt, in his explanation of the illumination of the Saxon
Calendar, says, " This month returns us again to the labourers, who
are here heating and preparing their utensils." He then refers us
to another drawing of a blacksmith. The Saxon illumination is
very rude. In the centre of the composition there is a blazing fire
upon the floor; a group on the right are warming their hands;
whilst one man on the left is bearing a bundle of fuel, and another
doing something at the fire with a rough pair of tongs. We
believe that our artist has translated the illumination correctly, in
considering this the fire of the domestic hearth, which the labourers
are supplying with fresh billets. But as the subject is interpreted
by Mr. Strutt, it refers to the craft of the smith, the most
important occupation of early times ; and we may therefore not
improperly say a few words upon this great handicraftsman, who
has transmitted us so many inheritors of his name even in our own
day. Verstegan says, " Touching such as have their surnames of
occupations, as Smith, Taylor, Turner, and such others, it is not
to be doubted but their ancestors have first gotten tliem by using
such trades; and tlie children of such parents being content to take
them upon them, their after-coming posterity could hardly avoid
them, and so in time cometh it rightly to be said, —

' From -whence came Smith, all be he knight or squire,
But from the smith that forgetli at the fire.' "

But the author of an ingenious little book, lately published, on
" English Surnames," Mr. Lower, points out that the term was
originally applied to all smiters in general. The Anglo-Saxon
Smith was the name of any one that struck with a hammer, — a
carpenter, as well as a worker in iron. They had specific names for
the ironsmith, the goldsmith, the coppersmith ; and the immerous
race of the Smiths are the representatives of the great body
of artificers amongst our Saxon ancestors. The ironsmith is
represented labouring at his forge in Fig. 294, and in Fig. 295,
where, in another compartment of the drawing, we have the figure
of a harper. The monks themselves were smiths; and St. Dunstan,
the ablest man of his age, was a worker in iron. The ironsmith
could produce any tool by his art, from a ploughshare to a needle.
The smith in Alfric's Colloquy says, " Whence the share to the
ploughman, or the goad, but for my art ? Whence to the fisherman
an angle, or to the shoewright an awl, or to the sempstress a needle,
but for my art ?" No wonder then that the art was honoured and
cultivated. The antiquaries have raised a question whether the
Anglo-Saxon horses were shod ; and they appear to have decided
in the negative, because the great districts for the breed of horses
were fenny districts, where the horses might travel without shoes
(See ' Archffiologia,' vol. iii.). The crotchets of the learned are
certaitdy unfathomable. Mr. Pegge, the writer to whom we
allude, says, " Here in England one has reason to think they began
to shoe soon after the Norman Conquest. William the Conqueror
gave to Simon St. Liz, a noble Norman, the town of Northampton,
and the whole hundred of Falkley, then valued at forty pound per
annum, to provide shoes for his horses." If the shoes were not
wanted, by reason of the nature of the soil in Anglo-Saxon times,
the invading Normans might have equally dispensed with them,
and William might have saved his manor for some better suit and
service. Montfaucon tells us, that when the ton)b of Childeric, the
father of Clovis, who was buried wdth his horse in the fifth century,
was opened in 1653, an iron horse-shoe was found within it. If
the horse of Childeric wore iron horse-shoes, we may reasonably
conclude that the horses of Alfred and Athelstane, of Edgar and
Harold, \vere equally provided by their native smiths. Tiiere is
little doubt tliat the mines of England were well worked in the
Saxon times. " Iron-ore was obtained in several counties, and there
were furnaces for smelting. The mines of Gloucestershire in
particular are alluded to by Giraldus Cambrensis as producing an
abundance of this valuable metal ; and the-e is every reason for
supposing tliat these mines were wrought by tiie Saxons, as indeed
they had most probably been by their predecessors the Romanc

Chap. HI.]

OLD ENGLAND.

The lead-mines of Derbyshire, wliich iiad been worked by the
Romans, furnished the Anglo-Saxons willi a supply of ore (Fig.
296) ; but the most important use of this metal in tlie Anglo-Saxon
period, that of covering the roofs of churches, was not introduced
before tiie close of the seventh century." ('Pictorial History of
Eiiglaud,' Book II. Cha]). VI.) It is not impossible that sonietliing
more than mere manual labour was api)lii'd to the operations of
lifting ore from the mines, and freeing them from water, the great
obstacle to successful working. \n the Cottoei Maim.scripts we
luve a representation of the Anglo-Saxon mode of raising water
from a well with a loaded lever (Fig. 297). At the present day
we see precisely the same operation carried on by the niarkct-
giirdeners of Isieworth and Twickenham. A people that have
advanced so far in the mechanical arts as thus to apply the lever as
a labour-saving principle, are in the direct course for reaching many
of (he higher combinations of machinery. Tiie Anglo-Saxons were
exporters of manufactured goods in gold and silver ; and after nine
hundred years we are not much farther advanced in our commerciiil
economy than the merchant in Alfric's Colloquy, who says, " I
send my ship with my merchandise (Fig. 298), and sail over the
sea-like places, and sell my things, and buy dear thitigs, which are

not produced in this land Will you sell your tilings here

as you bought them there .' — I will not, because what would my
labour benefit me? I will sell them here dearer than I bought
them there, that I may get some profit to feed me, my wife, and
ciiildren." The geographical knowledge of the Anglo-Saxons was,
no doubt, imperfect enough; but it was sufficient to enable them to
carry on commercial operations with distant lands. The Anglo-
Saxon map (Fig. 299) is taken from a maiuiscript of the tenth
century, in the Cottonian Library. It was published in the
' Penny Magazine,' No. 340, from which we extract the following
remarks upon it : — " The defects of the map are mo.t a|)jiai('iit in
the disproportionate size and inaccurate position of places. The
island to the left of Ireland is probably meant for one of the Western
Islands of Scotland ; but it is by far too large, and is very
incorrectly placed. The same remark will apply to the islands in
the Slediterranean. The form given to the Black Sea appears just
such as would be consetiuent upon loose information derived from
manners. However, in the absence of scientific surveys of any
coast, and considering the little intercourse whicli took place
between distant countries, the Anglo-Saxon map represents as
accurate an outline as perhaps ought to be expected."

December.

The emblem of tlie Saxon Calendar is that of the threshiner
season (Fig. 274). The flail has a reverend antiquity amongst us ;
the round sieve slowly does the work of winnowing ; the farmer
stands by with his notched stick, to mark how many baskets of the
winnowed corn are borne to his granary. Other emblems sliow us
the woodman bearing his fuel homewards, to make his hearth
cheerful in the Winter-monat, winter-month ; or the jolly yeoman
lifting his drinking-horn during the festivities of the Heligh-monat,
holy-month, for December was called by both these names. Then
was the round table filled with jocund guests (Fig. 275). Then
were the harp and the pipe heard in the merry halls ; and the
dancers were as happy amidst the smoke of their wood-fires, a* if
their jewels had shone in the clear biaze of a hundred wax-lights
(Figs. 248, 266).

The Anglo-Saxon illuminations in the preceding pages, which
are fac-similes, or nearly so, of drawings accompanying the original
manuscripts in our public libraries, will not have impressed tliose
unfamiliar with the subject with any very high notion of the state
of art in this island eight or nine hundred years ago. It must be
remembered that those specimens are selected, not as examples of
the then state of art, but as materials for the history of manners
and of costume. The false perspective, the slovenly delineations of
the extremities, and the general distortion of the human figure, will
at once be apparent. But there was nevertheless a school of art, if
so it may be called, existing in England and Ireland, which has
left some very remarkable proofs of excellence, and indeed of
originality, in a humble walk of pictorial labour. The illuminated
letters of the Anglo-Saxon manuscripts are wholiy different from
those of any continental school ; and they display a gracefulness of
ornament, and a power of invention, which may be profitably studied
in these our own times when ornamental design in coimection with
manufactures is escaping from the monotonous barbarism w hich has
so long marked us in such matters as a tasteless and unimaginative
people. " The chief features of this species of illumination are

described by Sir F. Mwldeii lo be— extieme intrioM^ of |Wllcni.
interlacing! of kooU in a diagonal or square form, KiiiicliiiiM
interwoven with nnimaN, and terminaiing in head* of terpggto or
birds. Though we cannot distinctly true*- th« progreM of lUa art,
we may conclude lliat it continued in a Houri»hing and inproriog
Dtato in the interval from the eighth to tlie ieiith and elerentli
centuries, whicli were to prolific in AnglaSaxon worU of
calligraphy and illumiiMtion, that, |)erha|M, nyt a conp«(eiit
authority, ipcaking of this period, our public librarica ami the
collection-s abroad contain more i|>ecinirns executed in tJiU ri>unlrr
than any other can pr'xluce during the tame tpaoe of lime."
(' Pictorial History of England,' Hook II. Chap. V.) We give ihrt-e
examples, out of the great variety which exbts in tlii« branch of art.
The illuminated letter P in of the eighth century (Fig. 301), at
which period the illumination of hooka formed a delightful occiipaliuii
to the more skilful in the nionaslic eatabluhmenta, and was evi-n
thought a proper employment by the highcat dignttariea of the Church.
There is a splendid example known as the ' Durham Book,' whicli
was the work of Eiadfrid, Bishop of Lindisfame, who died Ju 721.
Dunstan himself, at a Mibsequeiit period, varied the course of his
austerities and his ambition by employing his hand in the illumination
of manuscripts. The ornament (Fig. 300) and the letter Q (Hg.
302) are of the tenth century.

But, although the examples are not very numerous, we liave
proof that the taste thus cultivated in the cloisters of the Anglo-
Saxons was occasionally capaljle of efforts which would not have
been unworthy of that period and that country to which we aaaign
the revival of the arts. We are too much accustomed to think that
there was no art in Europe, and very little learning, during what
we are plca.sed to call the dark ages. But in the centurica so
designated there were, ip our own country, divineo, historians,
l>oets, whose acquirements might be an object of honourable rivalry
to many of those who are accustomed to sneer at their scientific
ignorance and their devotional credulity. At the time when Italian
art was in the most debased condition, there was a monk in Englattd
(and there may have been many more such whose labours liare
perished) who, in all the higher qualities of design, might liave
rivalled the great painters who are held, three centuries later, to
have been almost the creators of modern art. In the most successful
labours of the Anglo-Saxon cloister there was probably little worldly
fame ; of rivalry there was less. The artist, in the brief intervals
of his studies and his devotions, laboured at some work of several
years, which was to him a glory and a consolation. He was
worthily employed, and happily because his pencil embixlied tlie
images which were ever present to his contemplation. He did not
labour for wealth amidst struggling competitors, Dante says of the
first great Italian artists : —

" Cimabae thnaght
To lord it over painting's field ; nnd now
The cry is Giotto's, and liis name eclips'd.
Thus Imth one Guido from the other snatch'd
The Icttcr'd prize : and ho, perhaps, is bom.
Who shall drive cither from tlioir nest The ndse
Of worldly fame is but a bluit of wind.
That blows from diverse points, and sliifts its name.
Shifting tho point it blows from."

There is an Anglo-Saxon collection of drawings in existence,
undoubtedly produced in the tenth century, whose excellence is
such that the artist might have pretended " to lord it over
painting's field" even amongst the Cimabucs and Giottos. Hi>
name is supposed to have been Godemann; but even that is
doubtful. To him, whoeVer he was, might now be addressed the
subsequent lines of Dante : —

" Shalt Uion more
Live in tho months of mankind, if Ihy flcsb
Part sliriveU'd from tjicc, than if tlion hadst diol
Before the coral and tlie ]wp were left :
Or ere some tbonsaud years have past?"

But he has vindicated the general claims of his countrymen to
fake their rank, in times which men falsely call barbarous, amid^t
those who have worthily elevated the grosser conceptions of man-
kind into the ideal, showing tiiat art had a wider and a pur«r spl.-erc
than the mere imitation of natural objects. The Benedictional of
St. Ethelwold, an illuminated manuscript of the tenth century, in
the library of the Duke of Devonshire, is the work to whicli we
allude. It is fully described by Mr. Gage, in the twenty-fourth
volume of the ' Archasologia ;' and the Antiquarian .Society, greatly
to their honour, causc<l to be beautifully engraved in their Trans-
actions thirty plates of the miniatures with which this remarkable

300. — Anglo-Saxon Ornameat
(From MS. of the Tenth Century.)

301.— Anglo-Saxon Illmnlnated Letter. (From MS. of the Eighth Century )

^^mm

' Pf'l W r-n <•> [T^l y: \-h

303.— From St. .Ethelwold'a Benediciional. lUumiaation V.

304.— From St. .£thelwald's Benediciional. lUumlnatioa VII.

3M.— Aaekat Cbu:^:. >t

311.— King Edgar. (From Cotton MS.)

313.— Seal of Alfrlc, Earl of Mercia.

30S.— Portrait of Klog Alfrtd. ( Drawn from Coins and Boata.)

314.— From CMiaa MSw

Mt.— AIA«<rs'/«<i«L''

310.— Saxon Lantern. (Enirraycd In Strtitt's
Chronicle of England.)

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book L

work is adorned. Tliis manuscript was the ancient Benedictional
of the See of Winchester ; and it is stated at the commencement of
the «ork, that " A prelate whom tlie Lord had caused to be head of
the Cluircli of "Winchester, tlie great ^thelwold, commanded a
certain monk subject to liim to write the present book ; he ordered
also to be made in it many arches elegantly decorated and filled up
with various ornamental pictures, expressed in divers beautiful
colours and gold." At the end of this introduction, or dedication,
the writer subscribes his name Godemann. This monk of St.
Swithin's subsequently became Abbot of Thorney. Mr. Gage says,
" Although it is likely tiiat this superb volume, filled with beau-
tiful miniatures, and ornaments of the richest design, was finished
before Godemann had the government of the Abbey of Tliorney,
we are sure of one tiling, tiiat it was executed in this country be-
tween the years 963, when Ethelwold received the episcopal mitre,
and 984, when he died. . . . That Godemann was vhe illuminator
of the manuscript, as well as the writer of it, I see no reason to
doubt. Ilhmiination was part of the art of calligraphy; and ge-
nerally speaking, the miniature painting and the writing in the
early manuscripts are to be presumed the work of the same hand."
To furnish a general idea, tiiough certainly an insufficient one, of
the remarkable merit of the mhiiatures of this book, we present
copies of the fifth and the seventh plates, as engraved in the ' Archteo-
logia.' Fig. 303 is the second of two miniatures entitled ' Chorus
Virglnuni.' Fig. 304 is the second of four miniatures, each con-
taining a group of three Apostles. It is fortunately unnecessary
that we should attempt ourselves any critical remarks on the rare
merits of tliis early work of Anglo-Saxon art ; for in the paper in
the ' Arclieeologia ' is inserted a communication from the late Mr.
Ottley, whose familiar acquaintance with the works of the early
masters, both in painting and engraving, and the general correct-
ness of liis judgment, liave established for him a high reputation.
We extract from his letter a passage which points out not only the
beauties, but defects of this work, and of Anglo-Saxon art in gene-
ral ; and further notices the superiority of the best productions of
this our early school, both in colour and drawing, to the works of
its European contemporaries : —

" In the thirteenth century, as every one knows, the art of paint-
ing and sculpture in Italy received new life at the hands of
Niccola Pisano, Giunta, Cimabue, and Giotto; from which time
they steadily progressed, till the happy era of Giulius the Second
and Leo the Tenth. But for some centuries preceding the thir-
teenth I have sometimes seen reason to conjecture that the arts
were in a more flourishing state in various countries distant from
Italy than there ; to say nothing of Greece, from which, it is pro-
bable, the inhabitants of those countries, like the Italians them-
selves, directly or indirectly, and perhaps at distant periods,
originally derived instruction in those matters. That the art of
miniature painting, especially, was better known and more suc-
cessfully practised in France in the thirteenth century, and probably
long before, than in Italy, has always appeared to me clear, from
the well-known passage in the eleventh canto of Dante's ' Purga-
torio,' where the poet tims addresses Oderigi d'Agubbio, a minia-
ture painter, said to have been the friend of Cimabue : —

" Oh dissi lui non se tu Odcrisi,
L'onor d'Agubbio, e I'onor di quell' arte
Che allumiuar h chiamata a Paiisi ?'
('Art tliou not Oderigi ? art not thou
Agubbio's glory, glory of that art
Whicli they of Paris call the limner's skill ?)

" But to return to St. Ethelwold's manuscript. The next thing
I would mention is the justness of the general proportions of the
figures, especially those larger standing figures of Confessors,
female Saints, and Apostles, which occupy thf; first seven patjes of
the book. The two groups, entitled Chorus Virginum, are parti-
cularly admirable in this respect, as well as for the easy graceful-
ness of the attitudes of some of them, and the cast of the draperies ;
so that, had the faces more beauty and variety of expression, and
were the iiands less like one another in their positions, and better
drawn, little would remain to be desired. This deficiency of beauty
in the heads, amounting, I fear I must admit, to positive ugliness,
appears to have been in a great measure occasioned by the difficulty
which the artist encountered in his attempts to finish them with
body-colours ; as may be seen by comparing these heads with those
drawn only in outline in the last miniature in the book; if, indeed,
tlie colouring was not in great part performed by a different person
from him who drew the outlines; and, I would add, that the fault
is more appaient, throughout the volume, in the large than in the
smaller figures. Indeed, the little angels, holding scrolls, or sacred

volumes, especially the two last, have so much gracefulness and
animation, are so beautifully draped, and so well adapted in their
attitudes to the spaces they occupy, that I hardly know how tc
praise them sufficiently.

" Wherever the naked parts of the figure are shown, there we
have most evidence of tlie incompetence of the artist ; and conse-
quently the figures of the Apostles, whose feet and ankles appear
uncovered, are less agreeable than those of the above female Sahit.
But, as you are aware, this unskilfulneae in the art of drawing the
naked parts of the human figure is not the fault of the painter, but
of the period : and, indeed, it was not until three centuries after the
date of this manuscript, that any notable advancement was made in
this difficult part of the art.

" The draperies of the figures throughout the volume, with scarce
any exception, are well cast ; though the smaller folds are often
too strongly marked in proportion to the larger ones; which, with
the want of any decided masses of light and shadow distinguishing
those sides of objects which are turned towards the light from such
as are not so, prevents their producing the agreeable eff'ect which
they otherwise would do ; but this, again, is more the fault of the
time than of the artist. The colouring throughout these Illumi-
nations is rich, without being gaudy. It is possible that in the
tenth century some of the gay colours, in the use of which the
miniature painters of more modern times indulged so freely, were
but little known. If I am wrong in this supposition, we must
accord to the illumii.ator of this manuscript the praise of having
possessed a more chastened taste than many of his successors."

It would be absurd to pretend that the work attributed to Gode-
mann is an average specimen of Anglo-Saxon art. The illumina-
tions, for example, are very superior to those of the sacred poem
known as Ca3dmon's Metrical Paraphrase of Scripture History,
preserved in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. In these the human
figure is badly drawn ; and there is perhaps more of invention in
the initial letters than in the larger compositions. The poem itself
is a most remarkable production of the early Anglo-Saxon times.
The account which Bede gives of one Caedmon, the supposed author
of this poem, is a most curious one : — " There was in this Abbess's
Monastery [Abbess Hilda] a certain brother, particularly remark-
able for the grace of God, who was wont to make pious and religious
verses, so that whatever was interpreted to him out of Holy Writ,
he soon after put the same into poetical expressions of much sweetness
and compunction, in his own, that is the iinglish, language. By
his verses the minds of many were often excited to despise the
world, and to aspire to the heavenly life. Others after him attempted
in the English nation to compose religious poems, but none could
ever compare with him ; for he did not learn tlie art of poetising of
men, but through the divine assistance ; for which reason he never
could compose any trivial or vain poem, but only those that relate
to religion suited his religious tongue ; for having lived in a secular
habit, till well advanced in years, he had never learnt anything of
versifying; for which reason being sometimes at entertainments,
when it was agreed, for the more mirth, that all present should sing
in their turns, when he saw the instrument come towards him, he
rose up from table, and returned home. ' Having done so at a certain
time, and going out of the house where the entertainment was, ta
the stable, the care of horses falling to him that night, and com-
posing himself there to rest at the proper time, a person appeared
to him in his sleep, and saluting him by liis name, said, Csedmon,
sing some song to me. He answered, I cannot sing; for that was
the reason why I left the entertainment, and retired to this place,
because I could not sing. The other who talked to him replied,
However, you shall sing. What shall I sing ? rejoined he. Sing
the beginning of creatures, said the other. Hereupon, he presently
began to sing verses to the praise of God, wliich he had never
heard."

The ode which Cajdraon composed under this inspiration is pre-
served in Anglo-Saxon, in King Alfred's translation of Bede's
Ecclesiastical History : and the following is an English translation
from Alfred's version : —

" Now must we praise
The guardian of heaven's kingdom.
The Creator's might.
And Lis mind's thought ;
Glorious Father of men !
As of every wonder ho.
Lord Eternal,
Formed the beginning.
He first flamed
I'or the cliildrcn of enrtli
The heaven as a roof ;
Holy Creator !

CUAP. III.]

OLD ENGLAND.

Then inid-t^artli.
Tliu Guurdiun of mankind,
'X'lie cturnal Lord,
Afterward* produced
The eurtl) for men,
Lord Almighty I"

The Metrical Paraphrase to whicli we have alluded b aacribed by
some to a second Ciedmoii ; but the best philological antiquaries
are not agreed npon this matter. As to its extraordinary merits
there is no difference of opinion. Sir Francis Palgrave says, "The
obscnrity attending the origin of the Caednionian poems will jierliaps
increase the interest excited by tliem. Whoever may have been
their author, their remote antiquity is unquestionable. In poetical
imagery and feeling, they excel all the other early remains of the
North." One of the remarkable circumstances belonging to these
poems, wliether written by the cow-herd of Whitby, or some later
monk, is that we here find a bold pr(5totype of the fallen angels of
' Paradise Lost.' Mr. Conybeare says tliat the resemblance to Mil-
ton is so remarkable in that portion of the poem which relates to the
Fall of Man, that " much of this portion might be almost literally
translated by a cento of lines from that great poet." The resemblance
is certainly most extraordinary, as we may judge from a brief passage
or two. Every one is familiar with the noble lines in the first book
of ' Paradise Lost ' —

"Him tlio Almi^Uly I'ower
Hurl'd headlong fliiiiiing from th' ethereal sky,
With liiileous ruin iind combustion, down
To bottomless iierdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal firo,
Who dur.st defy tho Omnipotent to arras.
Nine timea the space which measures day and uight
To mortal men, ho witli his hoirid crfw
Lay vanquisli'd. rolling in the fiery gulf.
Confounded though immortal."

The Anglo-Saxon Paraphrase of Caidmon was printed at Amsterdam
in 1655. Can there be a question that Milton iiad read the passage
which Mr. Thorpe tlius translated ? —

" Then was tho Mighty angry,
Tho highest Ruler of heaven
Hurled him from the lofty scat ;
Hate had he gained at his Lord,
His favour ho Imd lost.
Incensed with him was tho Good in his mind.
Therefore ho must seek the gulf
Of hard hell-torment.

For that ho had warr'd with heaven's Buler.
Ho rejected him then from his favour,
And cast liim into hell.
Into the deep parts,
Wlien he became a devil :
The fiend with all his comrades
Fell then from heaven above,
Through as long as three nights and days,
Tho angels from heaven into hell."

Who can doubt that when the music of that speech of Satan
beginning

" Is this tho region, this tho soil, the clime
That we must change for heaven?"

swelled upon Milton's exquisite ear, the first note was struck by the
rough harmony of Ciedmon ? —

" This narrow place is most unlike
That other that wo ere knew
High in heaven's kingdom."

It would be quite beside our purpose to attempt any notice, how-
ever brief, of the Anglo-Saxon literature in general. Those who are
desirous of popular information on this most interesting subject may
be aljiuulantly gratified in Mr.Sharon Turner's ' History of the Anglo-
.Saxons,' in Mr. Conybearc's ' Illustrations of Saxon Poetry,' and
especially in Mr. Wright's admirable volume of ' Literary Biography '
of ' the Anglo-Saxon period.' The study of the Anglo-Sa.xon
language and literature is reviving in our times ; and we have little
doubt that the effect will be, in conjunction with that love of our
elder poets which is a healthful sign of an improving taste, to infuse
something of the simple strength of our ancient tongue into the
dilutions and platitudes of the multitudes amongst us " who write
with ease." Truly does old Verstegau say, " Our ancient English
Saxons' language is to be accounted the Teutonic tongue, and albeit
we have in later ages mixeil it with many borrowed words, espe-
cially out of the Latin and French, yet remaineth the Teutonic
unto this day the ground of our speech, for no other offspring hath
our language originally had than that." The noble language — " the
tongue that Shakspere spake " — which is our inlieritauce, may be saved

from corruption by the study of iu great Aiiglo^SaiOB ..._..»
All the value of iu com|Mwite character maj be praMrred, *ttb a
due regard to iu original structure. 80 may we beet keep omt
English with all iU iionourable cbaracteriitios, so well rtucribod by
Camden :— " Whereat our tongue is mUed, It ii no dk^race. Th«
Italian is pleujiant, but without sinews, as a still Beeiing water.
The French delicate, but even nice as a woman, icaroe daring lo
open her lip, for fear of marring her countenanee. The SpaMfali
inajetitical, but fulsome, running too much on tlio o, and terrible
like the devil in a play. The Dutch manlike, but withal very
harsh, as one ready at every word to pick a quarrel. Now we. In
borrowing from them, give the strengtii of consonanU to the lulian t
the full sound of words to the French; the variety of terminations
to the Spanish ; and the mollifying of mure vowels to the Dutch t
and so like bees, wo gather the honey of their good properties, and
leave their dregs to ihermielves. And when thus substantialnMa
cotnbineth with delightfulness, fulness with fineness, scerolinon
with portlinewi, and currentness with staidnew, bow can the langoagn
which consisteth of all these, sound other than full of all sweetnem?"
(' liemains.')

Tho coius of a country are amongst the most valuable and in-
teresting of its material monuments. The stuily of coins is not
to be considered as the province of the antiquary alone. Coins are
among the most certain evidences of hintory." (' Peimy Cyclo-
pa;dia.') In our engravings we have presented a series of colne,
from the earliest Anglo-Saxon period to the time of Edward the
Confes-sor. They begin at page 60, Fig. 232; and continue in
every page to page 69, Fig. 282. To enter into a minute descrip-
tion of these coins would be tedious to most readers, and not
satisfactory, with our limited space, to the numismatic student.
We shall therefore dismiss this branch of Old England's antiquities
with a few passing remarks suggested by some of this series.

The little silver coin, Fig. 233, is called a sceatta. This is a
literal Anglo-Saxon won! which means money ; and when, in Anglo-
Saxon familiar speech, the entertainer at a tavern is called upon to
pay the shot, the coin of Victoria does the same office as the teeat
of the early kings of Kent.

" As the fund of our pleasure, let each pay his sliot,"
says Ben Jonson. The penny is next in antiquity to the sceat.
Tiie silver coins of the princes of the Heptarchy are for the most
part pcnides. There is an extensive series of such coins of the
kings of Mercia. The halfpenny and the farthing are the ancient
names of the division of the 'penny ; they are both mentioned in
the Saxon Gosjiels. The coins of Otfa, king of Mercia (Fig. 234),
are remarkable for the beauty of their execution, far exceeding in
correctness of drawing and sharpness of impression those of Ids
predecessors or successors. " At the beginning of tlie ninth cen-
tury Ecgbeorht or Egbert ascended the throne of the West Saxon
kingdom ; and in the course of his long reign, brought under his
dominion nearly the whole of the Heptarchic states; he i.i there-
fore commonly considered as the first sole monarch of England,
notwithstanding those states were not completely unitetl in one
sovereignty until the reign of Edgar. On his coins, he is uMiallv
styled Ecgbeorht IJex, and sometimes the word Saxonum is addtd
in a monogram, witiun the inner circle of the obverse: some of hii
coins have a rude representation of his head, and some are without
it. From Egbert's time, with very few except ions, the series of
Englisli pennies is complete ; indeed, for many hundred yc.irs, the
penny was the chief coin in circulation." (' Penny CyclojKcdia.')
The silver pennies of Alfred bear a considerable price ; and this
circumstance may be attributed in some degree to the desire which
individuals in all subsequent ages would feel, to possess some me-
morial of a man who, for four hundred years after his death, was
still cherished in the songs and stories of the Anglo-Saxon j^opub-
tion, mixed as they were with Norman blood, as the Shephenl of
the people, the Darling of England (Figs. 268, 272). A relic,
supposed more strictly to pertain to the memory of Alfred, is now
in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford. It is an oniament of gold
which was found in the Isle of Athelncy, tl.o .<cene of Alfred's
retreat during the days of his country's oppression. The insciip-
tiou round the figure, holding flowers, means, "Alfred bad me
wrought" (Fig. 309). The Saxon lantern, which Strutt ha* en-
graved in his 'Chronicle of England' (Fig. 310), is also Mao
ciated with the memory of Alfred, in that story which Aaser, hie
biographer, tells of him, that he invented a case of horn and wood
for his wax candle, by the burning of which he marked the pn>-
gress of time. The genuineness of Asser's Biography has been
recently questioned; but there is little doubt thai \xs facts were

315.— Great Seal of Edward tie Coufeseor.

319.— Harold's Interview with King Edward on bla return from Normandy. (Bayenx Tapestry.)

316.— Great Seal of Edward the Confessor.

318.— Harold taking leave of Edward on his departnre for Normandy.
(Bayeox Tapestry.)

322.— The Crown offertd to Harold by the People. (Bayenx Tapestry.)

323 —Coronation of Harold. (Bayeui Tapestry.)

317 — The Sickness and Death of Edward the Confessor. (Bayeux Tapestry.)

Si7 — WiiluBi girtng orders Jor Uie lovaslou, {B«jfcus lupcsUy )

No. 11.

3^«.-iUruU<0ittiit«WiUiaa. (Bigrcn nfoti;)

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book L

fouuded upon an older narrative. The portrait of Alfred (Fig.
308) is copied from that in Spelraan's ' Life :' but the materials
out of which it is composed are probably not much to be relied
upon.

There is a very remarkable object in Berkshire, not a great dis-
tance from Wantage, the birth-place of Alfred, which has been
considered a memorial of the bravery and patriotism which he dis-
played even before he came to the throne. In the reign of Ethelred
the First, the brother of Alfred, the Danes, who had invaded Berk-
shire, were routed with great skiughter in a battle known as that of
.^Iscesdun (Ash-tree Hill) ; and it was contended by Dr. Wise, a
learned antiquary of the last century, that the ridge of chalk hills
extending from Wantage into Wiltshire was the scene of this battle,
and that the White Horse which is cut out on the slope of t'he
chalk is a memorial of this great victory. The White Horse, which
gives ils name to the hill, and to the fertile valley beneath, is a most
singular object. It is a rude figure, three hundred and seventy-four
feet in length, formed by removing the turf, and laying bare the
chalk, on the north-west face of this hill, just above a lofty and
steep declivity, which is visible from the surrounding country.
When the afternoon sun shines upon this side of the ridge, the
White Horse may be seen from a great distance — as far, it is said,
as fifteen miles. Lysons mentions that there was a tradition that
lands in the neighbourhood were formerly held by the tenure of
cleaning the White Horse, by cutting away the springing turf. An
annual festival was once held at this ancient ceremonial labour,
called by the people Scouring the Horse. But as the regard for
ancient memorials was dying out within the last cenlury, and the
peasants of Berkshire were ground down to a worse than serf-like con-
dition of dependence on the poor-rates, the old festival was given
uj), the White Horse was left to be overgrown and obliterated,
and even the memory of Alfred lived no longer amongst his Saxon
descendants in these lonely valleys, who had grown up in ignorance
and pauperism, because the humanities whicli had associated their
forefathers with their superiors in rank were unwisely severed.
The age of festivals, whether of religion or patriotism, is gone. We
ought to mention that some antiquaries differ from Dr. Wise, and
believe the White Horse to be of earlier origin than the age of
Alfred. There can be no question, however, that it is a work of
very high antiquity.

The civil government of the Anglo-Saxons, whether under the
Heptarchy, or after the kings of AVessex had obtained that ascen-
dency which constituted the united monarchy of all England, is
associated with very few existing monuments beyond those of its
medallic history. There was an ancient chapel at Kingston existing
about half a centurj' ago, in which kings Edrid, Edward the Mar-
tyr, and Ethelred are stated to have been crowned. That chapel
is now destroyed (Fig. 305). An engraving was made of it whilst

the tradition was concurrent with the existence of the old buildinn-.
, o

Kingston was unquestionably the crowning place of the Saxon
kings. There is a remarkable little church existing at Greensted, a
village about a mile from Ongar, in Essex. It was described about
a century ago in the ' Vetusta Monumenta ' of the Society of
Antiquaries; and attention has recently been called to it by a
correspondent of the ' Penny Magazine.' " In one of the early
incursions of the Danes into England (a. d. 870), Edmund, Kin"-
of East Anglia, was taken prisoner by them, and, refusing to
abjure the Christian religion, put to a cruel death. He was a
favourite of the people, but especially of the priests; and came
naturally, therefore, to be spoken of as a martyr, and his remains
to be held in estimation as those of a saint. In the reign of
Ethelred the Unready, the Danes, emboldened by the cowardice or
feeble policy of the king, who only sougiit to buy them off from
day to day, and made tyrannous by the diminished opposition every-
where offered to them, ravaged the country in all directions, until
at length, in the year 1010, ' that dismal period,' as Mr. Sharon
Turner calls it, ' their triumph was completed in the surrender of
sixteen counties of England and the payment of forty-eight thou-
sand pounds.' In this year the bones of St. Edmund were removed
from Ailwin to London, to prevent their fliUing into the hands of
the Danes. They appear to have remained in London about three
years, when they were carried back to Bedriceworth (Bury St. Ed-
mund's). A MS. cited by Dugdale in the ' Monasticon,' and
entitled ' Registrum Ccenobii S. Edmundi,' informs us that on its
return to Bury, 'his body was lodged (hospitabatur) at Aungre,
where a wooden chapel remains as a memorial to this day.' It is
this same ' wooden chapel ' which is supposed to form the nave of
Greensted church. The inhabitants of the village have always had
a traaition that the corpse of a king rested in it, and the appear-
ance of the building vouches for its great antiquity " (Fig. 306).

The Witenagemot, or the great council of the nation — prelates,
ealdormen, and thanes or governors of boroughs, with the crowned
king presiding — is represented iu one of the Cotton manuscripts in
the British Sluseum (Fig. 307). We have an example of the
almost regal dignity of the greater noblemen, in the remarkable seal
of Alfric Earl of Mercia, who lived towards the end of the tenth
century. The earl not only bears the sword of authority, but wears
a diadem (Fig. 313). There are representations of particular
monarchs in Anglo-Saxon manuscripts, which are perhaps more
valuable as examples of costume than as individual portraits. Such
is that of King Edgar (Fig. 311), and of Canute and his queen
(Fig. 312).

The seal which we have mentioned (or rather, the brass matrix of
the seal) of Alfric, Earl of Mercia, which \\as found by a labourer
in cutting away a bank near Winchester in 1832, is oi;e of seveial
proofs which have set at rest a long-disputed question as to the use
of seals among the Anglo-Saxons. The legal antiquaries of the
seventeenth century, such as Selden and Coke, speak without any
hesitation of charters with seals granted by the Saxon kings. Mr.
Astle, a very competent authority, asserted in 1791, that our Saxon
ancestors did not use seals of wax appended to their deeds (' Archse-
ologia,' vol. X.). He acknowledged, however, that if such a seal
could be found of a date before the time of the Confessor, the
argument against their use, derived from the fact that the word
Sigillum did not always mean seal, would be set at rest. The
opinion of Astle was founded upon that of earlier antiquaries. The
late Mr. Douce, in some remarks upon two wax impressions of the
seal of the Abbey of Wilton, which he believes to be the original
Anglo-Saxon seal, notices these objections : " If Dr. ^ickes and
the other objectors could have expected successfully to demonstrate
that the Saxons used no seals, it was necessary for them to annihi-
late not only the numerous early seals of the German emperors and
French kings, but even the gems and other sigillatory implements
of the aneients. It would, indeed, have been a remarkable circum-
stance, that during a period wherein many of the European
monarchs were continuing the immemorial practice of affixing seals to
public instruments, the Saxon sovereigns of England, who were not
inferior in knowledge and civilization to their contemporaries, and
who borrowed many of their customs from Italy and France, should
have entirely suspended a practice so well known and established.
It is much less extraordinary that a \ery small number of Saxon
seals should be remaining, than that, all circumstances considered,
they should not have been frequently used. All that the objectors
have been able to prove is, that a great many Saxon instruments
were destitute of seals; that some were forged with seals in Nor-
man times; and that the words ' Signum ' and ' Sigillum ' were often
used to express the mere signature of a cross, wiiich nevertheless
was the representative of a seal." In 1821, the seal of Ethelwald,
Bishop of Dunwich, was found about a hundred yards from the site
of the Monastery of Eye. That remarkable seal is now in the
British Museum ; and Mr. Hudson Gurney, who transmitted an
account of it to the Society of Antiquaries, says, " On the whole I
conceive there can remain no doubt but that this was the genuine
seal of Ethelwald, Bishop of Dunwich, about the middle of the
ninth century, and that it sets at rest the question hitherto in dis
pute touching the use of seals among the Anglo-Saxons."

These few remarks may not improperly introduce to our readers
the first of an uninterrupted series of monuments belonging to our
monarchical government — the great seals of England. The seal of
King Edward the Confessor is represented in Figs. 315 and 316.
On one side, according to the description of this seal by Sir Henry
Ellis, the king " is represented sitting on a throne bearing on his
head a sort of mitre, in his right hand he holds a sceptre finishing
in a cross, and in his left a globe. On the other side he is also
represented with the same sort of head-dress, sitting. In his right a
sceptre finishing with a dove. On his left a sword, the hilt pressed
toward his bosom. On each side is the same legend — Sigillum
Eadwabdi Anglorum BASiLEt. This seal of King Edward
is mentioned several times in the ' Domesday Survey.' "
(' Archaeologia,' vol. xviii.). The seal of WilHam the Conqueror,
which belongs to the next book, is little superior in workmanship to
that of the Confessor ; and the sitting figures of each have consider-
able resemblance (Fig. 342). The impression of the seal of tlie
Conqueror is preserved in the Hotel Soubise at Paris, being
appended to a charter by which the king granted some land in
England to the abbey of St. Denis, in France. This seal establislies
the fiict that grants of lands immediately after the Conquest were
guaranteed by the affixing of a waxen seal ; and although this
might not be invariably the case, it goes far to throw a doubt upon
the authenticity of the old rhyming grant said to be made bv

Chap. III.J

OLD ENGLAND.

AVilliam to the ancient family of the Iloptons, wliich Stow and
other (early antiquaries have believed to be authentic. Stow gives
it in his ' AniiaU,' upon " tlie testimony of an old chronicle in tlie
library at Riclimont," omitting three introductory lines, upon the
autliority of wliich in tlie sixteentli century a legal claim wan
actually set up to tliu estate of the lords of Hopton : —

" To the hcira male of the Ilopton lawfully bogotton ;—
From wo uiiJ from mine, to thco bihI to thine,
Wliilo tbo water rung, miil tbo sun (loth ubiiie ;
For luck of hiirs, to tlio klii^' ngiiin.
I, William, king, the third yiiir of my rcigUi
Give to tlito, Noriimn Hiiiit< re.
To mo tliat art both kft- and dear,
The Hop and lloptown.
And all the bouiwls up and down,
Under tbo earth to hell.
Above the earth to heaven.
From mc and from mine.
To thco and to tliliie.
As good and as fair
As ever they mine were.
To witness that thia in liooth,
I bite the white wax witli my tooth.
Before Jugg, Maud, and 5Iargery,
And my third son Henry,
For one bow and one broad arrow,
When I como to hunt upon Yarrow."

We give the above, with some slight corrections, from Blount's
* Ancient Tenures.'

The most extraordinary memorial of that eventful period of tran-
sition, which saw the descendants of the old Saxon conquerors of
Britain swept from their power and their possessions, and their
places usiirpe<l by a swarm of adventurers from the shores of Nor-
mandy, is a work not of stone or brass, not of writing and illumi-
nation more durable tlian stone or brass, but a roll of needlework,
which records the principal events which preceded and accompanied
the Conquest, with a minuteness and fidelity which leave no reason-
able doubt of its being a contemporary production. This is the
celebrated Bayeux 'lapestry. "Wlicn Napoleon contemplated the
invasion of England in 1803, he caused tliis invaluable record to be
removed from Bayeux, and to be exhibiled in the National Museum
at Paris ; and then the French players, always ready to seize upon
a popular subject, produced a little drama in which they exhibited
Matilda, the wife of the Conqueror, sitting in her lonely tower in
Normandy whilst her husband was figliting in England, and thus
recording, with the aid of her needlewomen, the miglity acts of her
hero, portrayed to the life in this immortal worsted-work. But
there is a more affecting theory of the accomplishment of this la-
bour tlian that told in tlie French vaudeville. The women of Eng-
land were celebrated all over Europe for their work in embroidery ;
and when the husband of Matilda ascended the throne of England,
it is reasonably concluded that the skilful daughters of the land
were retained around the person of the queen. They were thus
employed to celebrate their own calamities. But there was nothing
in this tapestry which told a tale of degradation. There is no
delineation of cowardly flight or abject submission. The colours
of the threads might have been dimmed with the tears of the workers,
but they would not have had the deep pain of believing that their
homes were not gallantly defended. In this great invasion and con-
quest, as an old historian has poetically said, " was tried by the
great assise of God's judgment in battle the right of power between
the English and Norman nations — a battle the most memorable of
all others ; and, howsoever miserably lost, yet most nobly fought
on the part of England." There was nothing in this tapestry to
encourage another invasion eight centuries later. In one of the
compartments of the tapestry were represented men gazing at a
meteor or comet, which was held to presage the defeat of the Saxon
Harold. A meteor had appeared in the sotith of France, at the
time of the exhibition of the tapestry in 1803 ; and the mountebank
Napoleon proclaimed that the circumstances were identical. The
tapestry, having served its purpose of popular delusion, was returned
to its original obscurity. It had previously been known to Lancelot
and Montfaucoii, French antiquaries ; and Dr. Ducarel, in 1767,
printed a description of it, in which he stated that it was annually
hung up round the nave of the church of Bayeux on St. John's day.
During the last thirty years this ancient work has been fully
described, and its date and origin discussed. Above all, the Society
of Antiquaries have rendered a most valuable service to the world,
by causing a complete set of coloured fac-simile drawings to be
made by an accomplishe<l artist, Mr. Charles Stothard, which have

lince be«n publUbcd in tbe ''VTetiuto llonnMBta.' TIm
remarkable K«ne« of the Mventy-two conipTtm—tt of llie tapmtrj
are engraved in our |>agM : and we nuy fltljr cIom oar ■wount of
the antiquities uf the Anglo^Saxoo period «ilh a brief nodee of
this moiit interesting hikturical record.

In the II6t(tl of the Prefecture at liajreux w uuw prncrvcd uiu
famous tapestry. In 1814, no little was kuown of it in Uie town
where it liad remained for ko many centurie*, that Mr. Hudioa
Ciirney was coming uway without discovering it, not bring awam
that it went by the name of the " Tuile de St. Jean." It waa
coiled round a windlasit ; and drawing it out at laiaure ov«r a table,
he found that it coiwislcd of "a very long piece of brownisli Uata
cloth, worked with woollen thread of difl'crent colour*, which are ae
bright and distinct, and the letters of the kupcncriptiooa as legtblo,
as if of yesterday." The roll is twenty inches broad, and two
hundred and fourteen feet in length. Mr. Giimey luu 10010 fen-
sible remarks u|>on the internal evidence of tlie worli iMing
contemporaneous with the Conquest. In the buildings portraypd
there is not the trace of a pointed arch ; there U not an indication
of armorial bearings, properly so calle<l, which would certainly
have been given to the fighting knights had the needlework
belonged to a later ag^; and the Norman banner is invariably
Argent, a cross Or in a lx>rder Azure, and not the Liter in>
vcntion of the Norman leopards. Mr. Guniey adds, " It may be
remarked, that the whole is worked with a strong outline ; tliat the
clearness and relief are given to it by the variety of the colours."
The likenesses of individuals are preserved throughout. Tbe
.Saxons invariably wear moiutaches ; and William, from his erect
figure and manner, could be recognised were there no su[)enicriptioa>.
Mr.' Charles Stothard, who made the drawings of the tapeetry
which have lioen engraved by the Society of Antiquaries, com-
municates some interesting particulars in a letter written in 1819.
He adds to Jlr. Gurney's account of its character as a work of art,
that " there is no attempt at light and sliade, or pers|>ective, the
want of which is substituted by the use of difTerent-colourcd worsted*.
We observe this in the off-legs of the horses, which are disting^iished
alone from the near-legs by being of different-colours. Tlie horsea,
the hair, and mustachios, as well as the eyes and features of the
characters, are depicted with all the various colours of greon, blue,
red, &c., according to the taste or caprice of the artist. This may
be easily accounted for, when we consider bow few colours coropowd
their materials."

The first of the seventy-two compartments into which the roll of
needlework is divide<l, is inscribed " Ed ward us Rex" (Fig. 318).
We omit the inscriptions which occur in each com]>artment, except
in two instances. The crowned king, seated on a chair of state,
with a sceptre, is giving audience to two persons in attendance ;
and this is held to represent Harold departing for Normandy. The
second shows Harold, and his attendants with hounds, on a jouniey.
He bears the hawk on his hand, the distinguishing mark of nobility.
The inscription purports that the figures represent Harold, Duke of
the English, and his soldiers, journeying to Boaham (Fig. 320).
The third is inscribed " Ecclesia," and exhibits a Saxon church,
« ith two bending figures about to enter. This we have given in
another place, as an architectural illustration (Fig. 216). The
fourth compartment rep esents Harold embarking; and the fifth
shows him on his voyage. We give the sixth (Fig. 324), which is
his coming to anchor previous to disembarking on the roost of
Normandy. The seventh and eighth compartments exhibit the
seizure of Harold by the Count of Ponthieu. The ninth (Fig.
325) shows Harold remonstrating with Guy, the Count, upon his
unjust seizure.

We pass over the compartments from ten to twenty-five, inclusive,
which exhibit various circumstances connected with the sojourn
of Harold at the court of William. Mr. Stothard has justly ob-
served. " That whoever designed this historical record was intimately
acquainted with whatever was passing on the Norman side, is
evidently proved by that minute attention to familiar and local
circumstances evinced in introducing, solely in the Norman party,
characters certainly not essential to the great events conwcted with
the story of the work." The twenty-sixth compartment (Fig. 326)
represents Harold swearing fidelity to William, with each liand on
a shrine of relics. All tlie historians appear to be agreed that
Harold did take an oath to William to support hi* claims to the
crown of England, whatever might have been the circumstance*
under which that oath was extorted from him. The twenty-seventh
compartment exhibits Harold's return to England ; and tbe twenty-
eighth shows him on his journey after landing. For the con»
venience of referring to those parts of the tapestry which are
connected with King Edward the Confessor, we have grouped then

M 2

334.— Orders giren for the er«:tlon of a fortiQed Camp at Hastings
(Bayeux TapeBtry ; ,

3J0.— Groap associated withthe Conqaeat,

339.— Death of Harold (Bayeni Tapestry.)

l^'\

f^#t®%

/ V

/ ■

'/^^^

343.-61WI a-i at WllUani Uio Caaqwior.

SI4.— SIlTtf Vcimr of WillUm I. (From ipcdiMa la Urit. Mus.)

SiC— A NonniB Cu^Ue,

»(.— Ciftle of LiHebamw — GransI View of Biini, Cfaorcb. tx.

348.— Tbt Abb(7 of ^c. EtieciM (Stcpben.) Cmo.' '
»5

.^■.N^^s^-,

347.— Ruttu i>( U'UliaiD the Cooqatnr. Hictd api :.

. FBinorSi Onrl i w . Cbta.

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book I

in one pagj (80), not following their order in the tapestry. The
twenty-ninth compartment (Fig. 319) has an inscription purport-
ing that Harold comes to Edward the King. The thirtieth shows
the funeral procession of the deceased Edward to Westminster
Abbey, a hand out of heaven pointing to that building as a
monument of his piety (Fig. 321). The inscription says, "Here
the body of Edward the King is borne to the church of St. Peter
tiie Apostle." The thirty-first and thirty-second compartments
exhibit the sickness and death of tiie Confessor (Fig. 317). The
thirty-third shows the crown offered to Harold (Fig. 322). Tlie
thirty-fourth presents us Harold on the throne, with Stigant tlie
Archbishop (Fig. 323). Tiien comes the compartment represent-
ing the comet already mentioned ; and that is followed by one
showing William giving orders for tlie building of ships for the
invasion of England (Fig. 327). We have then compart-
ments, in which men are cutting down trees, building ships,
dragging along vessels, and bearing arms and armour. The forty-
third has an inscription, " Here thty draw a car witli wine and
arms" (Fig. 329). After a compartment with William on horse-
back, we have the fleet on its voyage. The inscription to this
recounts tliat he passes tlie sea witii a great fleet, and comes to
Pevensey. Three other compartments show the disembarkation of
horses, the hasty march of cavalry, and the seizure and slaughter of
animals for the hungry invaders. The forty-ninth compartment
bears the inscription " This is Wadard." Who this personage on
horseback, thus honoured, could be, was a great puzzle, till the
name was found in Domesday-Book as a holder of land in six
English counties, under Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, the Conqueror's
half-brother. This is one of the circumstances exiiibitin"- the
minute knowledge of the designers of this needlework. The
fiftieth and fifty-first compartments present us the cooking and
the feasting of the Norman army (Fig. 335). We have then the
dining of the chiefs ; the Duke about to dine, whilst lo blesses

the food ; and the Duke sitting under a canopy. The fifty-fifih
shows him holding a banner, and giving orders for the construction
of a camp at Hastings (Fig. 334).

Six other compartments show us the burning of a house with
firebrands, the march out of Hastings, the advance to the battle,
and the anxious questioning by William of his spies and scouts as
to the approach of the army of Harold. The sixty-tliird presents a
messenger announcing to Harold that the army of William is near
at hand. The sixty-fourth bears the inscription, that Duke William
addresses his soldiers that they should prepare themselves boldly
and skilfully for the battle. We have then six compartments, each
exhibiting some scene of the terrible conflict (Figs. 337, 338). The
seventy-first shows the death of Harold (Fig. 339). The tapestry
abruptly ends with the figures of flying soldiers.

We have probably been somewhat too minute in the description
of this remarkable performance. If any apology be necessary, it
may be best offered in the words of 3Ir. Amyot, in his ' Defence of
the Early Antiquity of the Bayeux Tapestry,' which is almost
conclusive as to the fact of its being executed under the direction
of Matilda, the wife of the Conqueror (' Archseologia,' vol. xix).
"If the Bayeux Tapestry be not history of the first class, it is
perhaps something better. It exhibits genuine traits, elsewhere
sought in vain, of the costume and manners of that age which, of all
others, if we except the period of the Reformation, ought to be the
most interesting to us ; that age which gave us a new race of
monarchs, bringing with them new landholders, new laws, and
almost a new language. As in the magic pages of Froissart, we
here behold our ancestors of each race in most of the occupations
of life — in courts and camps — in pastime and in battle — at feasts,
and on the bed of sickness. These are characteristics which of
themselves would call forth a lively interest; but their value is
greatly enhanced by their connection with one of the most important
events in history, the main subject of the whole desio;n."

(

END OF BOOK 1.

CHAPTER L— REGAL AND BARONIAL ANTIQUITIES.

N ilAONO NAVIGIO M/UIE

teaitsivit, et tektt ad
Pevens^.

Such is the inscription to
the forty-fiftli compartment
of the Bayeux Tapestry — In
a great ship he jiasses the
sea, and conies to Pevensey.
The Bay of Pevensey is not
now as it was on ttie 28th of
September, a.d. 1066, wlien
this great sliip sailed into it,
and a bold man, one wliose
stern will and powerful mind
was to change the destiny of
England, leaped upon the
strand, and, falling upon his face, a great cry went forth that it was
an evil omen ; — but the omen was turned into a sign of gladness
when he exclaimed, with his character.stic oath, " I have taken
seisin of this land wifh both my hands." The shores of the bay are
now a dreary marsh, guarded by dungeon-looking towers, which
were built to defend us from such another seisin (Fig. 349). The
sea once covered this marsh, and tlie Norman army came a mile or
jO nearer to the chalk hills, beyond which tiiey knew there was a
land of tempting fertility. It must have been somewhat near the
old lionian castle that the disembarkation took place, whose inci-
dents are exhibited in the' Bayeux Tapestry. Here were the
horses removed from the ships: here each horseman mounte<I his
own, and galloped about to look upon a land in which he saw no
enemy ; here were the oxen and the swine of the Saxon farmer
slaughtered by those for whom they were fatted not ; here was the
cooking, and the dining, and the rudfe pomp of the confident Duke
who knew that his great foe was engaged in a distant conflict. The
cliarncter of William of Normandy was so remarkable, and indeed was
such an element of success in his daring attempt upon the English
crown, that what is personally associated with him, even though
it be found not in our own island, belongs to the antiquities of
England. lie was a stark man, as the Saxon chronicler describes
him from personal knowledge, a man of unbending will and ruthless
determination, but of too lofty a character to be needlessly cruel or
wantonly destruetire. Of his pre-eminent abilities there can be no
question. Connected with such a man, then, his purposes and his

success, the remains of his old Palace at Lillebonne (P'ig. 345),
which may be readily visited by those Mho traverse the Seine in ii«
steam-boats, is an object of especial interest to an Englishman.
For here was the great Council held for the invasion of England,
and the attempt was determined against by tlie people collectively,
but the wily chief separately won the assent of their leaden, and the
collective voice was raised in vain. More intimately aaMciated
with the memory of the Conqueror is the Church of St. Etienne at
Caen (Fig. 348), wliicli he founded ; and where, deserted by l>i»
family and his dependants, the dead body of the sovereign before
whom all men had trembled was hurried to the grave, amidst feufiil
omens and the denunciations of one whom he liad persecuted. The
mutilated statue of AVilliam may be seen on the exterior of the same
church (Fig. 347). In England we have one monument, connected
in the same distinct manner with his personal character, whiUt it
is at the same time a memorial of his <p-eat triumph and the revolu-
tion which was its result — we mean Battle Abbey. When Harold
heard —

" That dnc AVyllam to Ilastynges wm ycome,"
he gallantly set forward to meet him — but with an uneqwtl force. He
knew the strength of his enemy, but he did not quail before il.
The chroniclers say that Harold's spies reported that there were
more priests in William's camp than fighting meti in tiiat of
Harold ; and they add that the Saxon knew better than the spies
that the supposed priests were good men-at-arms. Mr. Stothard,
in his ' Account of the Bayeux Tapestry,' points out, with refer-
ence to the figures of the Normans, that "not only are (heir upper
lips shaven, but nearly the whole of their heads, excepting a portion
of hair left in front." He adds, "It is a curious circumstance in
favour of the great antiquity of the Tapestry, that time has, I believe,
handed down to us no other representation of this most singular
fashion, and it appears to throw a new light on a fact which ha*
perhaps been misunderstood : the report made by Harold's spie*
that the Normans were an army of priests is well kno»Mj. I should
conjecture, from what appears in the Tapestry, that their resembUim
to priests did not so much arise from the upper lip being ■haven, t»
from the circumstance of the complete tonsure of the back part of
the head." Marching out from iheir entrenched camp at Hastings
(Fig. 350), the Normans, all shaven and shorn, encountered the
nioustached Saxons on the 14lh of October. The Tapestry repre-
sents the Saxons fighting on foot, with javelin and battlc-axn,
bearing their shields with the old British characteristic of a boss io

-55.— Third Story of CoDisborough Castle. 356.-Founh Story of Conisborongh Castle.

390.— Hastings, from the Falrlight Downs.

351.— Conisborough Castle.

351.— Ddttle Abbev, as it ai'Dcared about

r^^.l^acS p«H(ti.^tfftvnn ti?i<j«i;.r^ut

36J,— h'pccloicO uf lVjulc*la^ U-.k

:ir.a - liotilo Abbpy Gateway.

sot— W«lms|j:,. i..:[.,..;i, York.

3SS.— RIcbllMCid. TotkthlnL

No. 12.

' . from tbe RInr Swale.

3*1.— TV! Keep of Bktnad OMte.

OLD ENGLAND-

[Book II.

the centre. The Normans are on horseback, with their long
shields ami their pennoned lances. It is not for us to describe the
terrible conHict. " The English," says AVilliam of Malmesbury,
" rendered all they owed to their country." Harold and his two
brothers fell at the foot of their standard which tiiey had planted
on tlie little hill of Senlac, and on this spot, whose name was sub-
sequently changed to Balaille, was built Battle Abbey (Fig. 351).
It was not the pride of the Conqueror alone that raised up this
once magnificent monument. The stern man, the hot and pas-
sionate man, the man who took what lie could get by right and
imright, " was mild to good men who loved God." And so he
built Battle Abbey.

Robert of Gloucester has thus described, in his quaint verse, the
foundation of Battle ^bbey : —

" King William bithougt him alsoo of that
Folke that was forlorne,
And slayn also thorurg liim

In the batailo bifome.
And ther as the batailo was,

An Abbey he lete rero
Of Seint Martin, for the soulea

That there slayn were.
And the monks wel ynoug

Feffed without fayle.
That is called in Englonde
Abbey of Bataile."

Brown Willis tells us that in tlie fine old parish-church of Battle
was formerly hung up a table containing certain verses, of which
the following remained : —

"This place of war is Battle called, because in battle here
Quite conquered and overthrown the English nation were.
This slaughter happened to tliem upon St. Ceelict's day,*
The year whereof. this number doth array."

The politic Conqueror did wisely thus to change the associations,
if it were possible, which belonged to this fatal spot. He could not
obliterate the remembrance of the " day of bitterness," tlie "day of
death," the " day stained with the blood of the brave " (Matthew
of "Westminster). Even the red soil of Senlac was held, with
patriotic superstition, to exude real and fresh blood after a small
shower, " as if intended for a testimony that the voice of so much
Christian blood here shed does still cry from the earth to the Lord "
(Gulielmus Neubrigensis). This Abbey of Batailie is unquestion-
ably a place to be trod with reverent contemplation by every
Englishman who has heard of the great event that here took place,
and has traced its greater consequences. He is of the mixed blood
of the conquerors and the conquered. It has been written of him
and his compatriots —

" Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of human kind pass by."

His national character is founded upon the union of the Saxon de-
termination and the Norman energy. As he treads the red soil of
Senlac, if his reformed faith had not taught him otherwise, he would
breathe a petition for all the souls, Saxon and Norman, " that there
slain were." The Frenchman, whose imagination has been stirred
by Tiiierry's picturesque and philosophical history of the Norman
Conquest, will tread this ground with no national prejudices; for
the roll of Battle Abbey will show him that those inscribed as
the followers of the Conqueror had Saxon as well as Norman names,
and that some of the most illustrious of the names have long been
the common property of England and of France. But the intelli-
gent curiosity of the visitor to the little town of Battle will be
somewhat checked, when he finds that the gates of the Abbey are
rigidly closed against him except for a few hours of one day in the
week. " The Abbey and grounds can be only seen on Monday,"
truly says the Hastings Guide. Be it so. Tiiere is not much lost
by the traveller who comes here on one of the other five days of the
week. The sight of this place is a mortifying one. The remains
of the fine cloisters have been turned into a dining-room, and, to
use the words of the ' Guide-Book,' " Part of the site of the church
is now a parterre which in summer exhibits a fine collection of Flora's
greatest beauties." This was the very church whose high altar was
described by the old writers to have stood on the spot where the body
of Harold was found, covered with honourable wounds in the defence
of his tattered standard. " Flora's greatest beauties !" " Few per-
sons," adds the ' Guide-Book,' " have the pleasure of admission." We
do not envy the few. If they can look upon this desecration of a spot
so singularly venerable without a burning blush for some foregone
barbarism, they must be made of difl^rent stuff from the brave who
here fought to the death because they had a country which not only
aiforded them food and shelter, but the memory of great men and
• St. Calixtus, October the 14th.

heroic deeds, which was to them an inheritance to be prized and
defended.

Tlie dasecration of Battle Abbey of cpurse began at the general
pillage under Henry the Eighth. The Lord Cromwell's Commis-
sioners write to him that they have " cast their book " for the de-
spatch of the monks and houseliold. They think that very small
money can be made of the vestry, but they reckon the plunder of
the church plate to amount to four hundred marks. AVithin lliree
months after the surrender of the Abbey it was granted to Sir
Anthony Browne ; and he at once set about pulling down the churcli,
the bell-tower, the sacristy, and the chapter-house. The spoiler
became Viscount Montacute ; and in this family Battle Abbey
continued, till it was sold, in 1719, to Sir Thomas Webster. It
has been held, and no doubt truly, that many of the great names
that figure on the roll of Battle Abbey were those of very subordi-
nate people in the army of the Conqueror ; and it is possible that
the descendants of some of those who roasted for the great Duke the
newly-slaughtered sheep on the strand at Pevensey may now look
with contempt upon a patent of nobility not older than the days of the
Stuarts. But, with all this, it is somewhat remarkable that Battle
Abbey, with its aristocratic associations, should have fallen into
the hands of a lineal descendant of the master-cook to Queen
Elizabeth. Sir Thomas was an enterprising bustling man, who
was singularly lucky in South Sea Stock, and had the merit of
encouraging the agricultural improvements of Jethro Tull. For
the succeeding century of Sir AVhistlers and Sir Godfreys, the work
of demolition and change has regularly gone forward. The view
(Fig. 361) exhibits Battle Abbey as it was about the time that it
went out of the Jlontacute family. Brown Willis, who wrote a
little after the same period, thus describes it in his day : — " Though
this abbey be demolished, yet the magnificence of it appears by the
ruins of the cloisters, &c., and by the largeness of the hall, kitchen,
and gate-house, of which the last is entirely preserved. It is a
noble pile, and in it are held sessions and other meetings, for this
peculiar jurisdiction, which hath still great privileges belonging to
it. What the hall was, when in its glory, may be guessed by its
dimensions, its length above fifty of my paces ; part of it is now-
used as a hay-barn ; it was leaded, part of the lead yet remains,
and the rest is tiled. As to the kitchen, it was so large as to contain
five fire-places, and it was arched at top ; but the extent of the
whole abbey may be better measured by the compass of it, it being
computed at no less than a mile about. In this church the Conqueror
offered up his sword and royal robe, which he wore on the day of his
coronation. The monks kept these till the suppression, and used
to show them as great curiosities, and worthy the siglit of their best
friends, and all persons of distinction that happened to come thither :
nor were they less careful about preserving a table of the Norman
gentry which came into England with the Conqueror."

Horace Walpole has given us a notion of the condition of Battle
Abbey, and the taste which presided over it, a century ago. He
visited it in 1752, and thus writes to Mr. Bentley : " Battle Abbey
stands at the end of the town, exactly as Warwick castle does of
Warwick ; but the house of Webster have taken due care that it
should not resemble it in anything else. A vast building which
they call the old refectory, but which I believe was the original
church, is now barn, coach-house, &c. The situation is noble,
above the level of abbeys : what does remain of gateways and towers
is beautiful, particularly the flat side of a cloister, wliich is now the
front of the mansion-house. A Miss of the family has clothed a
fragment of a portico with cockle-shells !"

A general view of Battle Abbey in its present state may be best
obtained by passing the old wall, and continuing on the Hastings
road for about half a mile. A little valley wiH then have been
crossed ; and from the eminence on the south-east the modern build-
ing, with its feeble imitations of antiquity, and its few antiquarian
realities, is offered pretty distinctly to the pedestrian's eye. What
is perhaps better than such a view, he may, from this spot, survey
this remarkable battle-field, and understand its general character.
The rights of property cannot shut him out from this satisfaction.
The ancient gateway to t1ie abbey, which stands boldly up in the
principal street in the town of Battle, is of much more recent architec-
ture than the original abbey. Some hold it to be of the time of Edward
the Third ; but the editor of the last edition of ' Dugdale's Monas-
ticon ' considers it to be that of Henry the Sixth (Fig. 358).

In the group (Fig. 340) we have given the seal of Battle Abbey,
in the lower compartment on the right. The group also contains
portraits of the Conqueror and of Harold, views of Pevensey and of
Hastings, and a vignette of a Norman and Saxon soldier. The
seal of Battle Abbey still remains in the Augmentation Office,
attached to the deed of surrender in the time of Henry the Eighth,

Chap. I.J

OLD ENGLAND

The side wl)ich our engraving' rcprexuntn exhibit! a church, having
an ornamented gateway and tower, with four turrets. Tliin, there
can be little doubt, represents the church which Sir Anthony
Browne destroyed, as chiirciies were destroyed in those days, by
stripping the roof of its lead, and converting the timber into building-
material or fire-wood.* Tini6 wis left to do the rest in part ; and
as the columns and arches crumble<l into ruin, the owners of the
property mended their roads with tiie rich carvings, and turned the
altar-toinbs into paving-stones — until at last the prettiest of flower-
gardens was laid out upon the sacred ground, and the rose and the
pansy flourished in the earth which had bei-Mi first enriched by the
blood of the slaughtered Saxons, and grew richer and richer with
the bones of buried monks, generation after generation. Truly
tliis is a fitting place for "a fine collection of Flora's greatest
lieaiilies." We may be held to speak harshly of such matters ; but,
us this is the first time we have been called upon so to speak, it may
be well that we say a few words as to the course we shall hold it
our duty to pursue in all cases where the historical antiquities of
our country, and especially where its ecclesiastical antiquities, are
swept away upon the principle, just, no doubt, in the main, of doing
what we will with our own. Tlie right of private property has no
otlier foundation whatever than the public good. If it could be
demonstrated that the public good does not consist with the ti^ht
of private jiroperty, the basis upon which it rests is irrevocably
destroyed, and tiie superstructure falls. But it cannot be so
demonstrated. The principle upon which the possessors of Battle
Abbey, and a hundred other similar properties in this kingdom,
retain their possessions, is a sure one, because it is the same
principle that confirms to the humblest in the land the absolute
control ovrcr the first guinea which he deposits in a Savings-Bank.
It would be no greater atrocity, perhaps not so great a one, to
reclaim for the Church in tiie nineteenth century the lands and
lordships of the Abbey of Battle, than it was for Henry the Eighth
to despoil the Abbey of Battle of those lands and lordships in the
sixteenth contury. The possessions were wrung from their legal
pro|)rietors under the pretext of a voluntary surrender, " with the
gibbet at their door." The same process might be repeated under
some such pretext of public good. The Church might be again
plundered ; the possessions of the nobility might be again confiscated ;
but it would only end in property changing hands. York and
Canterbury would have new grantees, and a new Battle Abbey
would have a new Sir Anthony Browne. But, looking at all the
circumstances under which domains and endowments which are
national, at least in their historicil memories, have been for the
most part originally granted, and are in some instances still
possessed, we maintain not only that it is contrary to the spirit of
the age, and opposed to the public good, that a continual process of
demolition and desecration should go forward, but we hold that,
under all just restrictions, the people have a distinct right to
cultivate the spirit of nationality, of taste for the beautiful, of
reverence for what is old and sacred, by a liberal admission to every
fabric which is distinctly associated, in what remains of it, with the
history of their country, and the arts and manners of their fore-
fathers. It was once contemplated to form an association to
prevent the continual destruction of our architectural antiquities.
The association has not been formed. But, formed or not, it is no
less the duty of those who address the public upon such matters to
direct opinion into a right direction ; and thus to control those who,
in the pride of possession, disregard opinion. It is the continued
assertion of this opinion which has at length thrown open the doors
of our cathedrals, not so widely as they ought to be opened, but
still wide enough to admit those who can pay a little for the sight
of noble and inspiriting objects, which ought to be as patent as
tlie blue sky and green trees. It is the assertion of this opinion
wiiich has stopped, in some degree, the new white-washing of the
fine carved-work of our churches, and the blocking up of their
windows and their arches by cumbrous monuments of the pride of
the wealthy. But there is yet much to be done. The squire of
the parish must have his high pew lowered ; and the vicar must
learn to dispense with the dignity of his churchwarden's seat
blocking up the arch of his chancel. The funds of all cathedrals
must in some measure be applied, as they are now in many cases,
to the proper restoration of the beauty and grandeur of their tombs
and chantries ; and not to the destruction of all harmony and
proportion, under the guidance of rash ignorance, as formerly at
Salisbury. Sacred places which have been made hiding-holes for
rubbish, like the Crypt at Canterbury, must be opened to the light.
The guardians of our ecclesiastical edifices must, above all, be
taught that the house of God was meant to be a house of beauty :
• Horace Walpolo was clearly b error in tixking the hall, or refectory, for the church.

and that their vile applicatioiu of mere utility, iJieir tutalit tulls,
their white paint, and their yellow pLut«r, for tlM porpotM of
hiding the glowing colours and the rich imagery of tboM who knew
better thau they wluft belooged to the dovoiional IMiag, will no
longer be e»dure<l as the badges of a pure and reforaMd nUgfaw |
for that religion is not the cold and unimaginatiTe thing wbieli Um
Puritanism of two centuries bas endeavoured to ds^iade it into.
We shall do our best not only to direct public attention to the
antiquities of our country, and incidentally to tba hiatMT of oar
country in a large Kcrise, but we shall take care, a* far as in us \\n
ditclaimiug the slightest intention of giving offence to individual*—
to contend for a liberal throwing open of those antiquities to tl>e
well conducted of the community, whatever be their social position i
and to remonstrate against all wanton and Ignorant dcrtnietioti of
those remains which wise governments and just indiridnab oogbt to
have upheld, but which to our sliame have in many case* been a*
recklessly destroyed as if the annals of our country had perished,
and we of Old England were a young democracy, rejoicing in our
contempt for those feelings which belong as much to the booour
and wisdom as to the poetry of civilized life.

There is an opinion, which probably may have been too hastily
taken up, that previous to the invasion of William of Normandy
there were few or no castle* or towers of defence in England ; and
that to this circumstance may be attributed the eventual succcm
which followed his daring inroad. This opinion has had tlie sup-
port of many eminent antiquaries, amongst otiiers of Sir William
Dugdale. It is scarcely necessary fur us to discuss this point ; and
therefore, when we come presently to speak of Conisborough Castle,
we shall touch very slightly upon the belief of some that it was a
Saxon work. That the Conqueror erected castles and impelled his
barons to their erection in every part of the kingdom, there can be
no doubt. His energy was so great in this mode of defence and
protection, that an old Latin chronicler says that he wearictt all
England with their erection. The general plan of a Norman
castle is exiiibited in Fig. 346. The keep or dungeon (the tall
central building) is numbered 1 ; the chapel 2 ; the stable 3 ; the
inner bailey 4 ; the outer bailey 5 ; the barbacan 6 ; the mount for
the execution of justice 7 ; the soldiers' lodgings 8. The following
clear and accurate description, by an eminent architect, in the
' Pictorial History of England,' will a5sist the reader's notion of a
Norman castle as conveyed by this ancient plan: — "The Anglo-
Norman castle occupied a considerable space of g^und, sometime*
several acres, and usually consisted of three principal divisions — the
outer or lower liallium (Anglice, Bailey) or court, the inner or upper
court, and the keep. The outer circumference of the whole was
defended by a lofty and solid jierpendicular wall strengthened at
intervals by towers, and surrounded by a ditch or moat. Flights of
steps led to the top of this rampart, which was protected by a para-
pet, embattled and pierced in different directions by loop-holes or
chinks, and oeillets, through which miasiles might be discliarged
without exposing the men. The ramparts of Rockingham Ca.<tle,
according to Leiand, were embattled on both sides, 'so that if the
area were won, the castle-keepers might defend the walls.' The
entrance through the outer wall into the lower court was defended
by the barbacan, which in some cases was a regular outwork, cover-
ing the approach to the bridge across the ditch ; but the few bar-
bacans which remain consist only of a gateway in advance of the
main gate, with which it was connected by a narrow open passage
commanded by the ramparts on both sides. Such a work remained
until lately attached to several of the gates of York, and still
remains, though of a later dale, at Warwick Castle [Fig. 362
exhibits the construction of a barbacan in that of Walmgate Bar,
York]. 'The entrance archway, besides the massive gates, was
crossed by the ]K>rtcullis, which could be instantaneously dropped
upon any emergency, and the crown of the arch was pierced with
holes, through which melted lead and pitch, and heavy missiles,
could be cast upon tlie assailants below. A second rampart, similar
to the first, separated the lower from the upper court, in which wa«
placed the habitable buildings, including the keep, the relative posi-
tion of which varied with the nature of the site. It was generally
elevated upon a high artificial mound, and sometimes enclosed l^
outworks of its own. The keep bore the same rektion to the rest
of the castle that the citadel l)cars to a fortified town. It was tlie
last retreat of the garrison, and contained the apartments of the
baron or commandant. In form the Anglo-Norman keeps are
varied, and not always regular ; but in those of the larger size rect-
angular plans are the most common, and of the smaller class many
are circular. The solidity of their construction is so great, that we
nnd them retaining at least their outwvd form in the midst of the

N 2

368.— vignette from the Vawx of the Ued King.

364.— Great Seal of William Paifus.

' 330.— Stone in New Forest.marking the' site of the Oak-tree against nhich the Arrow of Sir Walter
Tyrrel is said to have glanced.

365,— Silver I'cnny of William 11. (Brit- Mas. )

369.— Yew-tree in Hayes Churchyanl.

36T.— Hunting Stag. (Royal MS. 2 B. vi i )

363.— Koyal Tarty hunting Babbits. (Royal JIS. 2 B vii.)

SVl.'vIfiffiboIItarui.

372.— V.'inchester.

3 1 1 — Eotrimco of Kocbettcr Cutle.

m.-lacfaMMr

CMlti «ki Kmp, wtib iH Eatnoc* Town.

3?3.— Interior of the licmiins of the Trper Story of Rochester C««U».

376.— KocbMtat OmUm— nan.

SIT.— Tke Ti«<f; ft«B Hh TlanB.

OLD ENGLAND.

I Book IL

most dilapidated ruin. Time and violence appear to have assaulted
them in vain, and even the love of change has respected them
through successive generations."

Conisborough Castle, wliich is prooounced by Mr. King to be of
tlse earliest Saxon times " before the conversion of that people to
Cliristianity," is held by later antiquaries in its extent and arrange-
ment to be a fixir representation of the Norman keeps of the smaller
class. It is situated in the West Riding of Yorkshire, in the
wapentake of Stafforth, and, standing on a steep knowl, commands
a splendid view of the winding course of the river Don. It was
formerly entered by a drawbridge over a deep fosse. Leland speaks
of " the castle standing on a rocket of stone, and ditched. The
walls of it have been strong and full of towers." By the walls the
old topographer means those which surround the keep, which
Pennant in his time described as " seemingly circular, and having
the remains of four small rounders." The keep, of which a good
part is still entire, is a most remarkable building. It was originally
four stories high, and is of a circular form, being about twenty-two
feet diameter inside. The walls are fifteen feet thick, and they are
flanked by six projecting turrets, or square buttresses, running from
the top to the bottom, and expanding at the base. The external
appearance of the keep does not at first give the impression of its
really circular form (Fig. 357). The ground floor or base is
described by Pennant as a noisome dungeon of vast depth, at the
bottom of which is a draw-well. Fig. 354 exhibits the form of the
second story : the steps are numbered 1, the entrance 2, the stairs
to the third story 3, the opening to the vaulted story or dungeon
below 4. Fig. 355 shows the third story ; the stairs from the
second floor are numbered 5, the window 6, a closet which shows
that our forefathers possessed conveniences which have been thought
a modern invention 8, stairs to the fourth story 9 ; the chimney is
numbered 7, and in this and the floor above it is remarkable that
the construction of a chimney was not only perfectly well known,
but that the form of the opening projecting over the hearth ex-
hibited a degree of elegance which might recommend itself to the
tasteless fire-place builders of eight centuries later (Fig. 353).
The fourth story is indicated in Fig. 356 ; a small but well-deco-
rated hexagon room, undoubtedly used as a chapel, formed out of
the thickness of the wall and the turret, is numbered 10, the stairs
from the third floor 11, the window 12, the chimney 13, the stairs
to the platform 14. From this platform there are entrances to
six small rooms formed in the six turrets wjiich rise above tlie
parapet. Such were the conveniences of one of the smaller keeps,
possessing only a store-room or dungeon, a sort of hall of entrance,
two living-rooms, and a chapel, with six pigeon-holes where the
retainers slept or cooked their food. Of the larger keeps we shall
have particularly to speak when we come to notice the more com-
plete establishment of the feudal system under the immediate suc-
cessors of the Conqueror. At present we .shall content ourselves
with a brief description of the Castle of Richmond in Yorkshire,
the grant of wliose site to its first possessor is distinctly associated
with William the Conqueror.

The charter by which the king bestowed the lands of the brave
and unfortunate Saxon Earl Edwin upon one of his own followers
is thus given by Camden :— " I William, surnamed Bastard, King
of England, do give and grant to thee, my nephew, Alan Earl
Bretagne, and to thy heirs for ever, all the villages and lands which
of late belonged to Earl Edwin, in Yorkshire, with the knight's
fees and other liberties and customs, as freely and honourably as
the same Edwin held them. Dated from our siege before York."
Here then, on this noble hill, nearly encompassed by the river
Swale, amidst a landscape of wild beauty, almost of stern grandeur,
stands this Castle of Riche-mount, and some of the streets in the
little town at its feet have still their Norman names. Alan of
Bretagne quickly set to work to defend the broad lands which his
kinsman had bestowed upon him, by gathering round him a powerful
band safe from attack on this fortressed hill. The castle has been a
ruin for three centuries. Even in Leland's time it was a " mere
luin." But yet the great keep, whose walls are ninety-nine feet in
height, and eleven in thickness, still defies the wind and the frost,
as it once set at nought the battering-ram and the scaling-ladder
(Fig. 3G1). Turrets rise above these walls from the four corners.
The keep consisted originally of three stories. The roofs of the
two upper stories have now fallen in. There are the ruins of two
smaller towers to the south-east and south-west angles of the walls
(Fig. 360). The view on the town side is given in Fig. 359.

The grant of lands by the Conqueror to Alan the Breton is
represented in a very curious illumination in the register of the
Honour of Richmond (Fig. 352). The prolonged resistance made
to the power of the Norman invaders in tlie north brought pillage

and slaughter upon the inhabitants of the towns, and confiscation
of their lands upon the native chiefs. Villages and manors
were given away by scores in every district, to some fortunate
follower of the stranger king. It is in Domesday Book, the most
extraordinary record of the feudal times, that we can trace the
course of the spoliation of tlie original proprietors of the soil,
and the waste and depopulation that had preceded any condition
approaching to a tranquil settlement of the country. This book, of
which a specimen is given in Fig. 363, is unquestionably the most
remarkable monument of the Norman Conquest. No other countr}'
possesses so complete a record of the state of society nearly eight
centuries ago, as this presents in its registration of the lands of
England. By special permission it maj" be seen in the Chapter-
house at Westminster. It was formerly kept in the Exchequer
under three different locks and keys. Tlie book familiarly so called
really consists of two volumes — one a large folio, the other a quarto,
the material of each being vellum. The date of the survey, as
indicated in one of these volumes, is 1086. Northumberland,
Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham were not included as
counties in the survey, though parts of Westmoreland and Cumber-
land are taken. There never was a record which more strikingly
exhibited the consequences of invasion and forcible seizure of
property. The value of all the estates was to be triply estimated ;
as that value stood in the time of Edward the Confessor, at the time
of its bestowal by the king, and at the formation of the survey. It
was found that twenty years after the Conquest the rental of the
kingdom was one-fourth less than in the time of the Confessor ; and
tlie return was made upon oath. The Saxon chronicler looks upon
the Domesday Book as one of the many evidences of the Conqueror's
grasping disposition ; for he tells us that not a hide or yard of land,
not an ox, cow, or hog, was omitted in the census. Later historians
have cried up the survey as a monument of the Conqueror's genius
for administration. Thierry holds it only to be the result of his
special position as chief of the conquering army. This sensible
historian has shown, in his notice of Domesday Book, how complete
was the spoliation of the Saxon proprietors within twenty years— so
complete that the Norman robbers actually record their quarrels
with each other for what they call their inheritance. Describing
the document generally, he says, " The king's name was placed at
the head, with a list of his domains and revenues in the county ;
then followed the names of the chief and inferior proprietors, in the
order of their military ranks and their territorial wealth. The
Saxons who, by special favour, had been spared in the great spolia-
tion, were found only inthe lowest schedule: for the small number
of that race who still continued to be free proprietors, or tenants-
in-chief of the king, as the conquerors expressed it, were such only
for slender domains. They were inscribed at the end of each chapter
under the names of thanes of the king, or by some other designation
of domestic service in the royal household. The rest of the names
of an Anglo-Saxon form, that are scattered here and there through
the roll, belong to farmers, holding by a precarious title a few frac-
tions, larger or smaller, of the domains of the Norman earls, barons,
knights, Serjeants, and bowmen."

The Saxon annalist quaintly writes of the first William, " so much
he loved the high deer as if he had been their father; he made
laws that whosoever should slay hart or hind, him man should blind."
The depopulation and misery occasioned by the formation of the New
Forest have been perhaps somewhat over-stated. A forest undoubtedly
existed in this district in the Saxon times. The Conqueror enlarged
its circuit and gave it a fresh name. But even William of Jumieges,
chaplain to the Conqueror, admits the devastation, in his notice of
the deaths of William Rufus and his brother Richard in this Porest : —
" There were many who held that the two sons of William the king
perished by the judgment of God in these woods, since for the
extension of the forest he had destroyed many towns and churches
within its circuit." It is this circumstantial statement and populai
belief which inspired Mr. William Stewart Rose's spirited little peera
of the Red King : —

" Now fast beside the patliway stood
A ruin'd village, shagg'd with wood,

A melancholy place ;
The rutliless Conqueror cast down
(Wo worth the deed) that little town
To lengthen out his clioce.

"Amongst the fragments of the church,
A raven there had found a percli, —

She flickered with her wing ;
She stirr'd not, she, for voice or sliont.
She moved uot for that revel-rout.
But croak 'd upon the king."

PAINTED WINDOW.

TWO SAXOS EAKLS OF MEKJIA AND SEVEX NOUMAS EARLS OK CUESTER.

Cn-vr I.]

OLD ENGLAND.

But Mr. Rose docs not rest the machinery of his ballad upon
traililiuii alone, or tiie assertiuns uf prejudiced ciiroMiclers. Ad-
verting to tlie disbelief of Voltaire in tlie early history of the New
Forest, he points out, in his notes to the poem, what Voltaire did
not know, that ' Domesday-Book ' establislies the fact that many
•housand acres were afforested after the time of Edward the
Confessor. Tlie testimony which Mr. lit)8e himself supplied from
his local knowledge is exceedinj^ly curious. " The idea that no
vestiges of ancient buildings yet exist in the New Forest, is utterly
unfounded, though the fact is certainly little known, and almost
confined to the small circle of keepers and ancient iidiabitants. In
many spots, though no ruins are visible above ground, either the
rticeinte of erections is to be traced, by the elevation of the earth,
or fragments of building-materials have been discovered on turning
up the surface. The names also of those places would almost, if
other evidence were wanting, substantiate the general fact, and

even the nature of each individual edifice The total rasure

of buildings, and the scanty remains of materials under the surface,
appear at first n singular circumstance. But it is to be observed,
that the mansions, and even the churches of the Anglo-Saxons,
were built of the slightest materials, frequently of wood j and that
of all countries a forest is the least favourable to the preservation
of ruins. As they are the property of the crown, neither the pride

nor interest of individuals is concerned in their preservation

This absence of remains of ruins above the surface need not,
therefore, lead us to despair of further discoveries, and these are,
)>erhaps, yet designated by the names of places. May we not
consider the termination of lia?7i and tmi, yet annexed to some
woodlands, as evidence of the former existence of hamlets and
towns?" The historical truth, as it appears to us, may be collected
from these interesting notices of Mr. Rose's local researches. The
remains of buildings are few, and scattered over a considerable
district. The names which still exist afford the best indication that
tlie abodes of men were formerly more immerous. The truth lies
between the scepticism of Voltaire as to any depopulation having
taken place, and the poetical 'exaggeration of Pope, in his 'Windsor
Forest :' —

" The fields ore ravished from industrious swains.
From men tlicir cities, and from gods thoir fanes :
Tho levelled towns with weeds lie covered o'er ;
The hollow winds through naked temples roar."

Tlie fact is, that from the very nature of tlie soil no large population
could have been here supported in days of imperfect agriculture.
The lower la:uls are for the most part marshy ; the higher ridges
are sterile sand. Gilpin has sensibly pointed this out in his book
on ' Forest Scenery :' — " How could William have spread such
depopulation in a country which, from the nature of it, must have
been from the first very thinly inhabitetl ? The ancient Ytene was
undoubtedly a woody tract long before the times of William.
Voltaire's idea, tlierefore, of planting a forest is absurd, and is
founded on a total ignorance of the country. He took his ideas
merely from a French forest, which is artificially plante<l, and laid
out in vistas and alleys. It is probable that William rather opened
his chaces by cutting down wood, than that he had occasion to plant
more. Besides, though the internal strata of the soil of New Forest
are admirably adapted to produce timber, yet the surface of it is in
general jwor, and could never have admitted, even if the times had
allowed, anj' higii degree of cultivation." But, whatever view we
take of tiiis historical question, the scenery of the New Forest is
indissolubly associated with the memory of the two first Norman
lumter-kings. There is probably no place in England which in its
general aspect appears for centuries to have undergone so little
diange. The very people are unchanged. After walking in a
summer afternoon for several miles amongst thick glades, glided
only by the course of the declining sun,

" Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough briar,"

we came, in the low ground between Beaulieu and Denny Lodge,
upon two peasants gathering a miserable crop of rowan. To our
questions as to the proper path, they gave a grin, which expressed
iis much cunning as idiotcy, and pointed to a course which led us
directly to the edge of a bog. They were low of stature, and
coarse in feature. The collar of the Saxon slave was not upon
their necks, but they were the descendants of the slave, through a
long line who liad been here toiling in hopeless ignorance for seven
teiituries. Their mental chains have never been loosened. A mile
or two fartlier we encountered a tall and erect man, in a pccidiar
costume, half peasant, half huntsman. He had the frank manners

of one of nature's gentlemeo, and inniited upon goiiy with im a part
of the way which we lought to Lyndhurst. HJ« fiuniiy, loo, bad
been settled here, time out of mind. He waa tht llT«n<laiil of tb«
Norman huntsman, who hod been tru»t«d and eoooongcd, whiUt
the Saxon churl waa feared and oppremd. Tbera ia a Icwon ctill lo
bo taught by the condition of (be two noea in the primitive wHda
of the New Forett.

But we are digreMing from our proper tbeme. In tb«M ikkk
coverts we find not many tree*, and eapecially oak*, of tbat aoor*
mous *ize which indicate* the growth of centurie*. The tomt haa
been neglected. Tree* of every variety, with underwood in pn^
portion, have oppressed each the other'* luxuriance. Now and tben
a vigorou* tree has shot up above it* neighbour* ; but the general
aspect is that of continuoiu wood, of very slow and stunted growth,
with occasional range* uf low wet land almo*t wholly devoid of
wood. There are many R()ot*, undoubtedly of what we call pic-
turesquo beauty ; but the primitive lolitarine** of the pkce i* it*
great charm. We are speaking, of course, of tboae parte which
must be visited by a pedettrian ; for the high road* neoeasarily lead
through the most cultivated land*, pas*ing through a few village*
which have nothing of the air of belonging lo *o wild and primitive
a region. Lyndhurst, the prettiest of town*, i* the capital of the
Forest. Here its courts, with their peculiar jurisdiction, are held
in a hall of no great antiquity ; but in tliat hall hangs the ttimip
which tradition, from time immemorial, asserts wa* attached to the
saddle from which William Rufus fell, when struck by the glancing
arrow of Walter Tyrrell. There is a circumstance even more re-
markably associated with tradition, to be found in the little village
of Minestead. It is recorded that the man who picked up the body
of the Red King was named Purkcss ; that he was a charcoal-burner ;
and that he conveyed the bo<ly to Winchester in the cart which lie
employed in his trade. Over the door of a little shop in ttiat village
we saw the name of Purkess in 1843 — a veritable relic of the old
times. Mr. Rose has recorded the fact in prose and verse, of the
charcoal-burirer's descendants still living in this spot, and still poa-
sessing one horse and cart, and no more :—

" A minestead churl, whose wonted trsde
Was burning cbaroool in the glade,

Outstretch'd amid the gone
The monarch found : and in his wain
Ho raised, and to St. Swithin's (hoe
Convey 'd tho bleeding cotso.

And still, so runs our forest creed.
Flourish the pious woodman'* *eod

Even in the selfsame spot :
Onb horse and cart their little store,
Liko their forefather's, neither more

Kor less the children's lot

And still, in meny Lyndhnrst hall,
Ked William's stirrup decks the wall ;

Who lists, the sight may see ;
And a fair stone, in green Malwood,
Informs tho traveller where stood

The memorable tree."

The "fair stone," which was erected by Lord Delaware in 1745, b
now put into an iron case, of supreme ugliness ; and we are informed
as follows: — "This stone having been much mutilated, and the
inscriptions on each of its three sides defaced, this more durable me-
morial, with the original inscriptions, was erected in iha year 1841,
by William Sturges Bourne, Warden." Another century will see
whether this boast of durability will be of any account. In the
time of Leland, there was a cha|>el built upon the spot. It wouhl
be a wise act of the Crown, to whom this land belongs, to found a
school here — a better way of continuing a record than Lord Dela-
ware's stone, or Mr. Sturges Bourne's iron. The hi*tory of their
country, its constitution, its privileges — the duties and the rights of
Englishmen — things which are not taught to the children of our
labouring millions — might worthily commence to be taught on the
spot where the Norman tyrant fell, leaving successors who one by
one came to acknowledge that the people were something not to be
despised or neglected. The following is the inscription on the ori-
ginal stone, which is represented at Fig. 370 : —

" Here stood the oak-tree on which on arrow, shot by Sir Walter Tjnrell, at a
stag, glanced, and struck King William II., romamcd Rafoa. oo tbo
breast ; of which stroke ho instantly died, on the secood of Aognst, 1 100.

" King William IT., sumamcd Bafu^ being slain, as before relatctl, was lai<l
in a cart b<lonsing to ono Purkess, and drawn from henca to Wuicb««(cr,
and buried in tlio cathedral church of that city.

" That the spot whore an event so memorable bad happened iaight not lier»>
after be unknown, this stone was set up by John Lord Dclawate, wUo
had seen the tree growing in this place, anno ITU."

lit.- Cartlilt CmUi.

SlO.-CorlUl*.

3ra.-A1n»lck CuUo.

3113 — Uuck of UimiburougU, witli tic Cwtle In lu preient lUtc.

tuumx ol KMtMMCMtednL

W»ll«r,

J <•

^ ..t

|M.-<H«M iMl U Ibar; I.

:M.-iUf(frtm9«rHnfyL Pna(pMlMalB»rtt.Ma*

,«..S.iM,.( B«M« Aktay. *• a«i.HMi

«<aivrL.aii

M tm.

No. 1?>

>▼

OLD ENGLAND.

[BouB. n.

Ill the Cathedral Church of Winchester, which Dr. Milner terms
the "ancient mausoleum of royalty" (Fig. 372), is tlie tomb of
William Rufus. " It consists of English grey marble, being of
form that is dos d'dne ; and is raised aljout two feet above the
ground" (Fig. 371). The tomb of tiie Red King was violated
during the parliamentary war in the time of Charles I., and tiiere
was found within it " the dust of tlie liing, some pieces of cloth
embroidered with gohl, a large gold ring, and a small silver chalice."
The bones had been enshrined in the time of King Stephen. What
remained of these earthy fragments in the sixteenth century had
become mixed with the bones of Canute and his queen, and of
bishops of good and evil lepute. Bi>h<)p Fox caused them all to
be deposited in one of the mouldering chests whicli in this Cathedral
'attract the gaze of the stranger, and carry him, if he be of a con-
templative turn, into some such speculations as those of Hamlet,
when he traced the noble dust of Alexander till he fnund it stopping
a bupp-liole.

There are few prospects in England more remarkable, and, in a
certain dearee, more magnificent, than that which is presented on the
approach to Eochester from the road to London. The highest
point on the road from Milton is Gadshill, of " men-ii>-buckram "
notoriety. Here the road begins gradually to descend to the valley
of the Medway ; sometimes, indeed, rising again over little eminences,
which in the hop season are more beautifully clothed than are " the
vine-covered hills and gay regions of France," but still descending,
and sometimes precipitously, to a valley whose depth we cannot see,
but which we perceive from the opposite hills has a range of several
miles. At a turn of the road we catch a glimpse of the narrow
Medway on the south ; then to the north we see a broader stream
where large dark masses, " our wooden walls," seem to sleep on the
sparkling water. At last a town presents itself right before us to
the east, with a paltry tower which they tell us is that of the
Cathedral. Close by that tower rises up a gigantic square building,
whose enormous proportions proclaim that it is no modern archi-
tectural toy. This is the great keep of Rochester Castle, called
Gundulph's Tower (Fig. 375), and there it has stood for eight
centuries, defying siege after siege, resisting even what is more
difficult to resist than fire or storm, the cupidity of modern possessors.
Rochester Castle is, like the hills around it, indestructible by man
in the regular course of his operations. It might be blown up, as
the chalk hill at Folkestone was recently shaken to its base ; but
when the ordinary workman has assailed it with his shovel and
mattock, his iron breaks upon the flinty concrete; there is nothing
more to be got out of it by avarice — so e'en let it endure. And
worthy is this old tower to endure. A man may sit alone in the
gallery which rims round the tower, and, looking either within the
walls or without the walls, have profitable meditations. lie need
not go back to the days of Julius Caesar for the origin of this castle,
as some have written, nor even to those of Egbert, King of Kent,
who " gave certain lands within the walls of Rochester Castle to
Eardulf, then Bishop of that see." It is sufficient to believe with
old Lambarde, " that Odo (the bastard brother to King William
the Conqueror), which was at the first Bishop of Bayenx in Nor-
mandy, and then afterward advanced to the office of the Chief
Justice of England, and to the honour of the Earldom of Kent, was
either the first author or the best benefactor to that which now
standeth in sight." Odo rebelled against William II., and was
driven from his stronghold and from the realm. The history of the
Castle from his time becomes more distinct : — " After this the
Castle was nmch amended by Gundulphus, the Bishop : who (in
consideration of a manor given to his see by King William Rufus)
bestowed threescore pounds in building that great tower which yet
standeth. And from that time this Castle contiimed (as I judge)
in the possession of the Prince, until King Henry the First, by the
advice of his barons, granted to William, the Archbishop of Canter-
bury, and his successors, the custody and office of Constable over
the same, with free liberty to build a tower for himself, in any part
thereof, at his pleasure. By means of which cost done upon it at
that time, the castle at Rochester was much in the eye of such as
were the authors of troubles following within the realm, so that from
time to time it had a part (almost) in every tragedy." Lambarde,
who writes this, tells us truly that in the time of the Conqueror
" many castles were raised to keep the people in awe." Such kingly
strongholds of oppression were like the " pleasant vices " of common
men ; they became " instruments to scourge " their makers. Thus,
Odo held Rochester Castle against Rufus. The barons successfully
maintained it against John. Simon de Montfort carried his vic-
torious arms against its walls, which were defended by the Constable
i>f Henry III. These were some of the tragedies in which Eochester

Castle had a part. But the remains of this building show that its
occupiers were not wholly engrossed by feuds and by fighting. The
splendid columns, the sculptured arches, of its chief apartments
proclaim that it was the abode of rude magnificence ; and that high
festivals, with luxurious feastings, might be well celebrated within
tliese massive walls (Fig. 373.) This tower, each side of which at
the base is seventy feet long, whilst its height is one hundred and
twelve feet, has attached to its e;ist angle a smaller tower (probably
for domestics), between seventy and eighty feet in height. A parti-
tion wall runs up the middle of the larger tower ; and the height was
divided into four stories. The joists and flooring boards have been
torn from the walls, but we see the holes where the timbers were in-
serted, and spacious fire-places still remain. Every floor was served
« ith water by a well, which was carried up through the central parti-
tion. This division of the central towerallowed magnificent dimen-
sions to the rooms, which were forty-six feet in length by twenty -one
in breadth. The height of those in the third story is thirty-two feet ;
and here are those splendid columns, with their ornamented arches,
which show us that the builders of these gloomy fortresses had notions
of princely magnificence, and a feeling for the beauty of art, which
might have done something towards softening the fiercenes-i of their
warrior lives, and have taught them to wear their weeds of peace
with dignity and grace. Thomas Warton has described, in the true
spirit of romantic poetry, such a scene as might often have lighted
up the dark walls of Rochester Castle : —

" Stately the feast, and high the cheer :
Girt with many an arniM peer.
And canopied with golden pall,
Amid Cilgarran's castle hall,
Sublime in formidable state,
And warlike splendour, Heury sate,
Prupar'd to stain the briny flood
Of Sliaunou's lakes with rebel blood.
Illumining the vaulted roof,
A thousand torches flamed aloof .
From massy cups with golden gleam.
Sparkled the red metheglm's stream :
To grace the gorgeous festival,
Along the lofty window'd hall
The storied tapestiy was hung ;
With minstrelsy the rafters rung
Of harps, that with reflected light
From the proud gallery glitter'd bright."

Fenced round with barbacan and bastion on tlie land side, and
girded with iiigh walls towards the river (Fig. 376), the legal and
baronial occupiers of Rochester Castle sat in safety, whether dis-
pensing their rude justice to trembling serfs, or quaffing the red wine
amidst their knightly retainers. Even Simon de Montfort, a man
of wondrous energy, could make little impression upon these strong
walls. But the invention of gunpowder changed the course of
human affairs. The monk who compounded sulphur, saltpetre,
and charcoal, in their just proportions, made Rochester Castle what
it is now. The last repairs which it received were in the reign of
Edward VI. ; and in that of James I. it was granted by the Crown
to Sir Anthony Welldone. His descendant Walker Welldone,
Esq., was but an instrument in the hands of mutability to work
faster than time. He, good man, " sold the timbers of it to one
Gimmit, and the stone stairs, and other squared and wrought stone
of the windows and arches, to different masons in London ; he w ould
likewise have sold the whole materials of the Castle to a pavi(jur,
but on an essay made on the east side, near the postern leading to
Bully Hill, the effects of which are seen in a large chasm, the mortar
was found so hard, that the expense of separating the stones amounted
to more than their value, by which this noble pile escaped a total
demolition." (Grose.) The property finally passed into the hands
of Mr. Child, the celebrated banker: and it now belongs to the
Earl of Jersey, who married the heiress of that house.

The stone bridge at Rochester, over which we still cross the
Medway, is a very ancient structure, as old as the time of Edward
III. A great captain of that age. Sir Robert Knolles, who, " meaning
some way to make himself as well beloved of his countrymeti at
home as he had been every way dreaded and feared of strangers
abroad, by great policy mastered the river of Medway, and of his
own charge made over it the goodly work which now standeth."
This is Lambarde's account of the matter. But the old Kentish
topographer has raked up two ancient documents which sliow us how-
great public works were constructed in times when men had first
begun to seethe necessity of co-operating for public good. The older
wooden bridge, which Simon de Montfort fired, and which was
wholly destroyed twenty years after by masses of ice floating down
the rapid river, was built and maintained at the cost of " divers
persons, parcels of lands, and townships, \i ho were of duty bound to

i/ '■I'^^Sr-:

ROCHESTER CASTLE INTERIOR.

Chap. 1.]

OLD ENGLAND.

brii)^ KtufT and bestow botli cost and labour in laying it." One of
llio (locbinents wliich Lambarde prints in the 'Textus do Rccleaia
Itofl'en.-i,' wliicii was written in Anglo-Saxon and Latin. It in
wortli extracting ati entry or two, to sliow liow tlii.H cnrioiu division
iif lalxiur worked in ancient times. Such a mode of repairini; a
bridge may provoke a smile ; but up to iWia hour do we retain the
name principle of repairing our roads, in the ridiculous statute labour
of pari>hesan(i individiuils, "This is the bridge work at Rochester.
Here be nanu-il the lands for the which men shall work. First the
bishop of the city tuketh on that end to work the land pier, and three
yards to plank, and three plates to lay, that is from liorstall, and
from Cuckstane, and from Frensbury and Stoke. Then the second
pier belongelh to (iillingham and to Chethnm, and one yard to
plank and three plates to lay." And so runs on the record ; n)eting
out their work to bishop and archbishop and king, with the aid of
lands and townships. These progenitors of ours were not altogether
so ignorant of the great principles of political economy as we may
have learnt to believe. They knew that common conveniences were
to be paid for at the common cost; and that the bridge which
brought tlie men of Uochester and the men of Strood into intimate
connexion was for the benefit not of them alone, but of the
authorities which represented the Slate and the Church and the
population of the whole district ; and therefore the State and the
Church and I he neighlxmring men of Kent, were called upon to
maintain the bridge. In these our improved times the burden of
public works is sometimes put upon the wrong shoulders.

Gundulphus the bishop, the builder or the restorer, we know not
which, of the great keep at Uochester, was the architect of the most
remarkable building of the Tower of London. Stow tells us, " I
find in a fair register-book of the acts of the Bishops of Rochester,
set down by Edmund of Hadenham, that William I., surnamed the
Conqueror, builded the Tower of London, to wit, the great while
and square tower there, about the year of Christ 1078, appointing
Oundulph, then bishop of Rochester, to be principal surveyor and
overseer of that work, who was for that time lodged in the house of
Kdmere, a burgess of London." Speaking of this passage of Stow,
the editor of ' London ' fays, " We see the busy bishop (it was he
who built the great keep at Rochester) coming daily from his
lodgings at the honest burgess's to erect something stronger and
mightier than the fortresses of the Saxons. What he found in ruins,
and what he made ruinous, who can tell ? There might have been
walls and bulwarks thrown down by the ebbing and flowing of the
tide. There might have been, dilapidated or entire, some citadel
more ancient tlian the defences of the people the Normans conquered,
belonging to the age when the great lords of the world left every-
where some marks upon the earth's surface of their pride and their
power. Tliat Gundnlph did not create this fortress is tolerably
clear. What be built, and what he destroyed, must still, to a certain
extent, be a matter of conjecture." And this is precisely the case
with the great tower at Rochester. The keep at Rochester and the
White Tower at London have a remarkable resemblance in their
external appearances (Fig. 377). But we have no absolute certainty
that either was the work of the skilful Bishop, who, with that
practical mastery of science and art which so honourably dis-
tinguished many of the ecclesiastics of his age, was set by his
sovereign at both places to some great business of construction or
repair. We must be content to leave the matter in the keeping of
those who can pronounce authoritatively where records and traditions
fail, taking honest Lambarde for our guide, who ."ays, " Seeing that
by the injury of the ages between the monuments of the first
beginning of this place, and of innumerable such, others be not come
to our hands, I had rather in such cases use honest silence than rash
speech."

The niinal walls of the Castle of Hastings, and the remains of the
pretty chapel within those walls, are familiar objects to the visitors of
I he most beautiful of our watering-places. The situation of this Castle
is singularly noble. It was here, according to Eadnier, that almost all
the bishops and nobles of England were assembled in the year 1090,
to pay personal homage to King William II. before his departure
for Normandy. Grose has given a pretty accurate description of
this castle, which we abridge with slight alteration. What remains
of the castle approaches nearest in shape to two sides of an oblique
spherical triangle, having the points ronndeil off. The base, or
south side next the sea, completing the triangle, is formed by a
perpendicular cragsjy cl if!" about four hundred feet in length, upon
which are no vestiges of walls or other fortification. The east side
is made by a plain wall measuring nearly three hundred feet, without
tower or defence of any kind. The adjoining side, which faces the
north-west, is about four hundred feet long. The area included is
about an acre and one-fifth. The walls, nowhere entire, are about

eight feet thick. The RSteway, now d«nM>li>b«il, »u on th» oortb
side near the north«rnmn*t angle. Not far frtwii it, to the wart, an
the remaiiw of a Mnall towt^r encloning a circular fliglit of tUirt t
and still farther weatwarci, a Mlly-port and Um ntina of aaotlMr
tower. On the eaiit tide, at the dUlanee of about one liuadiwd feet,
ran a ditch, one hundred feet in br««ilih at the b>|>, and aixiy Utt
deep; but both the ditch, and (he interval betwern it aiid the wall,
seem t<i have gradtmlly narrowe*! u» they aiipnMchnl tlte ^*U;
under which they terminated. On the north-wnt ittle tlwrw waa
another ditch of the name breaillh, commencing at the cliff ofpodtm
to the westernmost angle, and bearing away almost due north, iMviog
a level intermediate space, which, opposite lo (he talljr-port, was
one hundred and eighty feet in breadth (Fig. 381).

The Castle of Cahlisle wax founded by William Uufu*. He
was the restorer of the city, af^cr it had remained for two centurin
in ruins through the Danish ravages. The Red King was a real
l>enefactor to the |)eople at this northern extremity of bb kingdom.
He first placed here a colony of Fleming*, an indunirious and skilful
race, and then encourageil an immigration of husbandmen from the
south, to instruct the poor and ignorant inhabitants in the arts of
agriculture. We must not consider that these Norman kings wen
all tyranti. The historical interest of Carlisle belongs to a latet
perio<l, and we ^liall return to ir. So does the Castle of Aijiwick
(Fig. 382). But we here introduce the noble seat of the I'ercies,
for it was a place of strength sotm afrer the Norman Conquent. In
the reign of Rufus it was besieged by Malcolm the Third, of Scot-
land, who here lost his life, as did his ton Prince fklward. Before
the Norman Conquest the castle and liarony of Alnwick belonged
to Gilbert Tyson, who was slain fighting against the inrader, by
the side of his Saxon King. The Conqueror gave the granddangbier
of Gilbert in marriage to Ivo de Vescy, one of bis Norman fol-
lowers ; and the Lords de Vescy enjoyed the fair pa«essions down
to the time of Edward I. The Ca»tle of BAMBOBooaB, in North-
umberland, carries us back into a remoter antiquity. It was
the palace, according to the monkish historians, of the kings of
Northumberland, and built by king Ida, who began his reig^n about
6.")9. Roger lloveden, who wrote in 1192, describes it, under tin
name of Bebba, as "a very strong city." Rufus blockaded the
castle in 1085, when it was in the poaseasion of Robert de Mowbray,
earl of Northumberland. The keep of Bamborongh is very similar
in its appearance to the keeps of the Tower of London, of Roches-
ter, and of Dover. It is built of remarkably small stones ; the
walls are eleven feet thick on one side, and nine feet on three sides.
This ca.stle, .situated upon an almost perpendicular rock, close to
the sea, which rises about one hundred and fifty fret above low-
water mark, had originally no interior appliances of luxury or even
of comfort. Grose says, "Here were no chimneys. The only
fire-place in it was a grate in the middle of a large room, supposed
lo have been the guard-room, where some stones in the middle of
the floor are burned red. The floor was all of stone, supported by
arches. This room had a window in it, near the top, three feet
square, possibly intende<l to let out the smoke : all the other rooms
were lighted only by slits or chinks in the wall, six inches bniad,
except in the gables of the roof, each of which had a window one
foot broad." One of the most remarkable objects in this ancient
castle is a draw-well, which was discovered about seventy rears
ago, upKjn clearing out tlie sand and rubbish of a vaulted cellar or
dungeon. It is a hundred and forty-five feet deep, and is cut
through the solid basaltic rock into the sandstone below. Wbea
we look at the history of this castle, from the time when it was.
assaultetl by Penda, the Pagan king c f the Mercians, its plunder
by the Danes, its siege by Rufu.s it! assault by the Yorkists in
1463, and so onward through seven < enturies of civil strife, it in
consoling to reflect U]K)n the uses to .vhich this stronghoM is now
applit^i. It was bought with the property attached to it by Nathaniel
Lord Crewe, Bishop of Durham, and bequeathed by him to chari-
table purposes in 1720. The old fortress has now been completrly
repaired. Its gloomy rooms, through whose loop-holes ihe suu
could scarcely i)enetrate, have been converted into schools. B<>ys
ore here daily taught, and twenty poor girls are lodged, cloiheu.
and educated till fit for service. The towers, whence the warder
once looked out in constant watchfulness against an enemy's ap-
proach, are now changed into signal-stations, to warn Ihe sailor
against that dangerous cluster of rocks called the Fern Islands;
and signals are also arrangeil fi)r announcing when a vessel i.* in
distress to the fishermen of Holy Island. Life-boats are here kept,
and shelter is ofleretl for any r<-asonabIe |>enoa to such as may
be shipwrecked on this dreary coast The estates thus devoted to
purix>ses of charity now yield a magniflcent income of more than
eight thonsjHul a year. Not only are the poor taught, but the sick

O 2

393 —Stephen. Enlarged from a nnlqne Silver Coin In the
Collection of Sir Henry Kllis.

391.— Great Seal of Stephen.

?.94.— Sliver Teniiy of Stephen.
From SpecimeQ In Brit. Mus.

r 93 —Anns of Stephen.

3fi".— Oxford Castie, b8 It srpoarcd In the Fifteenth Century.

396.— Tower of Oxford Castle.

39'. — P.ougemont Castle.

100

sat.— Korwlcb Cutk'.

39S.— South-west View of Nonfich Caslle.

4m^T«frtM<4 AiMar.

tttttMiT

IM.^fllCld'I'B.

400.— VMnchester

4U-GeiiCR7

(Le.Brl} KnTi.V> CWIst •»<
1CI

102

OLD ENGLAND.

Book IL

are relieved in this hospitable fortress. In the infirmary, to which
pnrt of the building is applied, the «ants of a thousand persons are
annually administered to. Much is still left out of these large funds ;
and the residue is devoted to the augmentation of small benefices,
to the building and enlarging of churches, to the foundation and
support of schools, and to exhibitions for young men going to the
Universities. When William Rufus besieged tliis rock of Bani-
borough, Robert de Mowbray had a steward witliin the walls, who
would have defended it to the death, had not the iiing brought out
the earl his master, wiio was a prisoner, with a threat that his eyes
should be put out unless the castle surrendered. This was a faithful
steward. Lord Crewe had an equally faithful steward, after a dif-
ferent fashion, in Dr. Sharpe, Archdeacon of Northumberland, wlio
devised the various means of best applying this noble bequest, and
resided on this stormy rock to see that those means were properly
administered.

In the fine west doorway of Rochester Cathedral is a statue
which is lield to represent Matilda, queen of Henry I. (Fig. 385).
The marriage of the son of the Norman Conqueror with the niece
of PMgar Atiieliiig was a politic measure, which revived the old
Saxon feeling in the conquered and oppressed, and made them
think that days of equality were in store for them, even under the
new race. Matilda the Good was worthy to be a descendant of
Alfred. She probably would have been more happy in the cloister
to which she had fled for safety during the terrors of the Norman
licentiousness, than with her ambitious, daring, profligate, but accom-
plished husband. Her influence over him did something, no doubt,
for ameliorating the condition of her native land. She was a civilizer :
she built bridges; she cultivated music. But the promise wliich
Henry had made when he seized the crown, that the old Saxon laws
should be restored, was wholly broken as soon as he had fairly
grasped the sword of authority. Tlie collection entitled ' The
Laws of King Henry I.' is a " compilation of ancient Saxon laws
by some private person, and not a publication by authority of the
state." The writer of this adds, " The general clamour in England
for the Saxon laws of the Confessor, under tlie three Norman
kings, makes it probable that this compilation was made by some
private person at the time when the restoration of these laws was
called for by, and repeatedly promised to, the nation." (' Ancient
Laws and Institutes of England,' published by the Record Com-
mission.) These laws of Edward the Confessor were founded
upon older laws, that go back through the times of Canute, and
Ethelred, and Edgar, and Athelstan, and Alfred, prescribing many
things which are difficult to understand in our present slate of
society, but upholding a spirit of justice in mercy which later ages
have, it is to be feared, not so diligently maintained. The laws of
king Ethelred, for example, might furnish a text to be written up
in every police court: "And ever, as any one shall be more
powerful here in the eyes of the world, or through dignities higher
in degree, so shall he the more deeply make ' bot ' (amends, com-
pensation) for sins, and pay for every misdeed tlie more dearly ;
because the strong and the weak are not alike, and cannot raise a
like burthen." Again here is a noble motto for a judgment-seat :
" Let every deed be carefully distinguished, and doom ever be
gtiided justly according to the deed, and be modified according to
its degree, before God and before the world ; and let mercy be
shown foT dread of God, and kindness be willingly shown, and those
be somewhat protected who need it ; because we all need that our
Lord oft and frequently grant Ins mercy to us." This was the
spirit of Christianity filling lawgivers with right principles ;
although some of the institutions of society, such as slavery, were
a violation of those principles. For all free men the old Saxon
laws were ast in their objects, and impartial in their administration.
It is easy to understand how tliey could not exist in connection
with the capricious despotism of the first Norman kings, and tie
turbulence of their grasping retainers. Fortunate was it for the
country when a prince arose of such deciiled character as Henry I. ;
for he crushed the lesser oppressors, whose evil doings were more con-
stant and universal. It mattered little to the welfareof the countiy
that his unhappy brother Robert was shut up for years in Cardiff
Castle, if the king visited )iis own purveyors with terrible punish-
ments when they ground the people by unjust exactions. In Cardifli"
Castle (Fig. 390) a dark vaulted room beneath the level of the ground
is shown as the place where Robert of Normandy was confined by his
brother for twenty-six years. The tradition rests upon no liistoricnl
foundation whatever, nor, indeed, upon any probability. The gallant
but heedless prince, according to William of IMalniesbury and other
chroniclers, was indeed a prisoner in Cardiff' Castle, but j^urrounded
with luxury and magnificence, and provided with minstrels and jesters

to make his life pass away as a gay dream. Matthew I'aris tells a
curious story, which appears very characteristic of the proud and tri-
fling mind of him whom Beauclerk had jostled out of a throne, " It
happened on a feast day, that king Henry trying on a scarlet robe,
the hood of which being too strait, in essaying to put it on he
tore one of the stitches, whereupon he desired one of his attendants
to carry it to his brother, whose head was smaller; it always*
having been his custom whenever he had a new robe to send one
cut off" from the same cloth to his brother with a polite message.
This garment being delivered to Robert, in putting it on he felt
the fraction where the stitch had been broken, and through the
negligence of the tailor not mended. On asking how that place
came torn, he was told that it was done by his brother, and the
whole story was related to him : whereupon, falling into a violent
passi(m, lie thus exclaimed: 'Alas! alas! I have lived too long!
Behold my younger brother, a lazy clerk, who lias supplanted me
in my kingdom, imprisoned and blinded me ! I who have been
famous ill arms! And, now, not cont. nt with these injuries, he
insults me as if I were a beggar, sending me his cast-off clothes as
for an alms!' From that time he refused to take any nourishment,
and, miserably weeping and lamenting, starved himself to death.
He was buried in Gloucester Cathedral, where his image, as big
as the life, carved in Irish oak and painted, is yet shown." Death
levelled these distinctions in the same year. If Robert died of
mortification about a cast-oflT robe, Henry perished more ignobly
of a full meal of lampreys. Robert's eflSgy of heart of oak was
carefully repaired by a stranger two centuries ago. The monument
of Henry in Reading Abbey, which he founded, perished long since,
and scarcely a stone is now left standing of this princely building, to
tell the tale of liis pious munificence (Fig. 389).

The successor of Henry Beauclerk was also an usurper. The
rival pretensions of Stephen of Blois and the Empress Matilda filled
the land with bloodshed and terror for nineteen years. From the
north to the south, from the Barbacans of York (Fig. 386) to the
Palaces of Winchester (Fig. 400), the country was harried by king
and baron, by empress and knight. A single burst of patriotism
carried the English to fight with one accord at Northallerton, under
the car-borne standard of Stephen (Fig. 403). But during the
greater part of this period almost every baron's castle had to sustain
a siege on one side or the other; and, what was worse, the lands
around these strongholds were uniformly wasted by the rapacious
garrison, or their plundering assailants. Stephen had given to the
nobles the fatal power of fortifying their castles ; and it is afl[irmed
that towards the latter end of his reign these "nests of devils and
dens of thieves," as Matthew Paris styles them, amounted to the
number of eleven hundred and fifteen. A contemporary annalist of
the deeds of King Stephen thus describes the miseries of the people
during this desolating contest : — " Many abandoned their country ;
others, forsaking their houses, built wretched huts in churchyards,
hoping for protection from the sacredness of the place. Whole
families, after sustaining life as long as they could by eating herbs,
roots, dogs, and horses, perished at last with hunger; and you
might see many pleasant villages without one inliabitant of either
sex." There is scarcely a castle of the period that is not associated
with some memory of this war of ambition. The Saxon Chroniclei
says, " In this king's time all was dissension, and evil, and rapine.
The great men soon rose against him. They had sworn oaths, bu»
maintained no truth. They built castles which they held out against
him." It was thus that Hugh Bigod, who had sworn that Henry
had appointed Stephen his successor, was the first to hold out against
the king in the Castle of Norwich, which his ancestor had built.
Norwich was a regular fortress, with a wall and ditch, an outer, a
middle, and an iimer court, and a keep. The bridge over one of
the ditches and the keep still remain. The keep had long since
gone through the customary process of being turned into a jail, and
the jail being removed it is now gutted and roofless. This keep i»
a parallelogram, a hundred and ten feet in length by about ninety-
three in breadth. The walls are in some places thirteen feet thick,
and the tower is seventy feet in height. It was not sufficient for
the people in authority in the last century to tear this fine historical
monument to pieces, by their fittings np and their pullirigs down,
but they have stuck on their county gaol at one end^a miserable
modern thing called Gothic-^paltry in its dimensions, and incon-
gruous in its style (Figs. 398, 399). The same process has been
resorted to at Oxford Castle. It was built by Robert de Oilies, ii
Norman who came over with the Conqueror. Not even the romance
coimected with its history could save Oxford Castle from desecration.
It was a little county prison a century ago, and it is a great county
prison in our own day. It is something, indeed, to see the strong-
holds of lawless oppressors becoming monuments of the power of the

LE1UUTU>. BKOa.

ELIZABETHAN SIDEBOARD OR COURT CUPBOARD

IN WAliWICK CASTLB.

OlIAP. I-l

OLD ENGLAND.

lUl

Law. We slinll spoak of more of the«e prewntly. But, neverthelew,
it) a seat of learniii<j, in a place coiistecrated to ancient recoIlection/<,
we would gliidly have had oilier a»sociationn than cliaiuM and giljbeln,
Willi tlie vcnerabit! walls Crorn wliicli Matilda escaped through be-
Itagueriii"^ lio>t!i in a night of front and snow, and, croiuiiig the
fro/.ca Tliunies, wandered in darkness for many a mile, till dhe
i'eaclie<l a place of Kufety. Iloliiislied tells the story with the sim-
plicity of the elder chroniclers: — "It was a very hard winter that
year; ihe 'I'liumes and other rivers tliereabouts were frozen, so that
l)oih man and liorse nil;^lit safely pans over upon the ice: the flehU
»vere also covere<l with a thick and deep snow. Hereupon, taking
<:ccaKion, she clad herself and all her company in white apparel, that
afar off they might not be discerned from the snow ; and so, by
negligence of the watch, that kept ward but slenderly, by reason of
the exceeding cold weather, she and her (wrtakers secretly in the
idglit issued out of the town, ami passing over the Thames, came to
Wallingford, where she was received into the castle by those that
liad the same in keeping to her use : of whom IJrian, the son to the
Karl of Gloucester, was the chief." The "gaping chinks and
age<l countenance " of Uougemont Castlk at Exeter (Fig. 395)
are something more in character with the old times than the feeble
patchwork of antiijuarianism, the parapets and |)ep|>er-boxe8 of our
luodern castle prisons, pertly bristling up by the sides of these old
donjons.

The ))er8onal history of Henry II., one of the greatest kings that
«ver sat upon the English throne, belongs more strikingly to the
ecclesiastical than to the civil annals of those times. The story of
Ills wonderful contest with IJecket may be best referred to in con-
nection with the scene of Becket's martyrdom. That story was
everywhere made familiar to the people by legend and painting (Fig.
411). The romance of Henry's per.sonal history, in connection
with liosumond Cliffonl, was long associated with the old towers of
Woodstock. These are no more ; but what they were is shown in
Figs. 413, 414.

It is a rare consolation for the lover of his country's monuments,
to turn from castles made into prisons, and abbeys into stables, lo
such a glorious relic of ' Old Kngland ' as Warwick Castle. Who
can forget the first sight of that beautiful pile, little touched by
time, not vulgarized by ignorance? (Fig 417). As he enters the
portal tlirough which Gaveston was led to execution, and the
king-maker marched in and out to uphold a Yorkist or a Lancastrian
pretender to the crown, he feels that he is treading upon ground
almost hallowed by its associations (Fig. 415). Cajsar's Tower —
that is but a name! Guy's Tower— that beloags lo poetry, and is
therefore a reality ! (Fig. 416). Old Dugdalc treated Guy and
<iis legend as a true thing . " Of his particular adventures, lest what
I say should be suspected for fabulous, I will only instance that
combat betwixt him and the Danish champion, Colebrand, whom
some (to magnify our noble Guy the more) report to have been a
giant. The story whereof, however it may bo thought fictitious
by some, forasmuch as tliere be tliose that make a question whether
there was ever really such a man, or, if so, whether all be not a dream
which is reported of him, in regard that tlie monks have sounded
<iut Ids praises so hyperbolically ; yet those that are more consi-
derate will neither doubt the one nor the other, inasmuch as it
iiath been so usual with our ancient historians, for the encourage-
ment of after-ages unto bold attempts, to set forth the exploits of
worthy men with the highest encomiums imaginable ; and therefore,
should we for that cause bo so conceited as to explode it, all history
of those times might as well be vilified." We shall have to return
to the fair castle of Warwick : so we leave it, at present, under the
influence of Guy and his legends (Fig. 418).

In glancing generally over the subject of the present state of the
oncient Castles of England, a striking commentary is afforded to us
(ipon the progress that England has made since they studded the
land over witli their stately but terrible walls, and gateways, and
towers. Look, for instance (to refer only to structures not already
inentioiKHi), at Fahniiam Castle, in Surrey (Fig. 426), built by
Henry of Blois, brother of King Stephen, and forming, no doubt,
one of tlie eleven hundred castles said to have been erected in the reign
of thai nionarcli. Eleven hundred castles built in sixteen years !
What a scene of violence and strife does not the bare mention of
puch a fact open to the imagination I It is to that scene Farnham
Castle essentially belongs ; and if we now gaze uiwn it, as it is,
most strange in all respects appears the contrast between the pre-
sent and the past associations. The lofty keep stands in a garden
forming a picturesque and noble ornamental ruin in the palatial
grounds of the Bishops of Winchester, but that is its only value

to tlie present poaseiuMtrs ; it loolu down upon (be princip«]
of the place, which probably first grew up into importance
its protection, but it is only now to behold a population e»bibiliag
in a thou«aiid way* their enjoyment of the service* of an inflnit«ly
more powerful defender— the Law. In numetuu* other case* our
castles have become direct adjunct* lo the very power that haa iJhm
superseded them. York, I^iiicaxter, and Lincoln Caatle* an no«
mere gaol* for the confinement, or court* for the trial of priaonen;
and that amazing piece of workmanship, which atteaU to (hi* dar
the strength of the lint of these airuclurM, Ci.irroKo'a Toweb (Fig.
423), attributed to the Conqueror, whilst the mount on which it
stands is supposed to have been raiM-<l by }{«mau haitd*, now frown*
ill unregarded magnificence over the throng of jiulgea, barri*t«r«,
and witiieaies, of debtor* and criminal*, who |nu« to and fro through
the modern gateway at iu feet, 'i'hen, again, Nkwabk CaaTLX ( Fig.
425), erected by Bishop Alexander, the well-known caatle-building
prelate, who seems indeed (o have thought he had a roiasion tliat
way, and who cerbiinly exhibited no lack of wal in fulfilling it t
Newark (»'. *., New- Work, hence the name of the town), a rare es«
ample for the time of any departure from the principle of consi-
dering a castle merely as a stronghold, rather than as a place ol
residence aUo ; Newark, with its high historical and military rapa-
tation, twice unsucce-HsfulIy besieged by the Parliamentarians duiing
the Civil War, anil only delivered up, not taken, at last in conse-
quence of Charles's own directions when he had given himself op
to the Scots— under what circumsunces do we behold the ruins of
this structure ? AVliy, as if in mockery of that reputation, wooden
bowls now roll noiselessly but harmlessly about the clo*e-«iiavcn
green, in one part of the castle area, where cannon-balls ooos
came thick and fast, dealing destruction and death on all sides;
whilst in another, peaceful men and women now congregate in the
"commodious market." Pontefract, or PoMracT Castlb (Fig.
429), of still higher historical interest, exhibits a change and a
moral no less remarkable. The rocky foundation upon which the
castle was raised, at an enormous expenditure of time, money, and
labour, is now a quarry of filtering-stones, which are, we ar«> loM,
in great request all over the kingdom ; the pkce, for the maiute-
nance of which the neighbourhood has been so often of yore laid
under contribution, now in some measure repays those old exac-
tions from the liquorice-grounds and market-gardens that occupy
its site. The liquorice-g^unds, we may observe by the way, fona
quite a distinctive feature of the country immediately surrounding
Pontefract, that quietest, and cleanest, and w idest-streeted of pro-
vincial towns, which, within some fourteen miles of the manufac-
turing Babel, Leeds, is so little like Leeds, that one might fire a
cannon-ball down its main street at noon-day with but very small
danger of mischief. We must dwell a little on the history of
I'omfret Castle. Royal favour is generally attended with substan-
tial tokens of its existence; but of all English sovereigns who hare
had at once the will and the power to distinguish their friends in
this way, commend us to the Conqueror. The builder of Ponifret
Castle was Ilbert de Lacy, who received from William one hundred
and fifty manors in the west of Yorkshire, ten in Notliiighanu>hir«,
and four in Lincolnshire. Pontefract was among the first, though
not it seems previously known by that name, which is said to hare
been conferred on it by De Lacy from its resemblance to a place
in Normandy, where he was bom : a pleasant touch of sentiment
in connection with one of those formidable mailed barons who
struck down at once England's king and liber*jes on the &tal field
of Hastings. The area enclosed by the castle-walls was about
seven acres, the walls being defended by the same number of towers.
It had of course its deep moat, barbacan, and drawbridge, and its
great gateways of entrance. Leland says of the main structure,
" Of the Castle of Pontefract, of some called Snorre Castle, it con-
taineth eight round towers, of the which the dung^n cast into six
roundelles, three big and three small, is verj- fair." We should be'
sorry to wish that the excellent antiquarian had had an apportunily
of a closer acquaintance with the "fair" dungeon, but assuredly
if he had, he would have chosen a somewhat different epithet, in
spite of its external beauty. The dungeons of Pontefract Cwtle
have excited no less fearful interest from their intrinsic character,
than from the prisoners who have wept or raved in them to the
senseless walls. In the early part of the fourteenth century, Thomas,
F2arl of Lancaster, uncle of Edward II., married Alice, daughter of
Henry de Lacy, and thus became the lord of Pontefract. Among
the barons then opposed to the weak and disgraceful goTcrnmenl
of Eilward II. the Earl of I^nca<!ter was conspicuous ; but in one
of tliose reverses of fortune which his party experienced, he, with
many other nobles and knights, fell into the iiands of the ro)-alisu,
was brought by them to his own Cattle of Pontefract, then in their

405.— Great Seal of Henry II.

408.— Silver Penny of Henry II. From i
epecimen in Urit. Mus.

409.— AmiB of Henry II.

410.— Flanta QenitU.

413.— Woodstock.

4f6. — llcnry II, I'ruwn frum the tomb at Fontcvr.v.:d.

411. — The Jlartyrdom of Thomas a Becket. From an ancient paintir
CUapel of the Holy CroBB, Stratford.

414.— \Voodstock, as It appeared before 1T14=

-'k7*^\i""'f- S'"^"" "' ' '""■•^ "■ 4u-.-Kmgy of Henry li

i'lcm the lomb at Fonttvraud. From the Tomb at Fontev! .

♦-•v.

«!».— Katnooe b Wantick Outia.

«)«.— Warwick GMIal O^ft TvMT.

4ia.— Aodent Sutae of Onj, at Ooj^ CSS.

41t<— Warwkk Ca.lle, (ran the laland.

Ot^lBtirtar afa Mmm tm Waikww* Ottt^

4Sk UAivCbatlt.

No. 14.

105

106

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

possession, and there, witiiuut even a iieaiing, beheaded, w liilst the
other barons were hung. As the owner of the' castle and the
broad lands sweeping so far away on all sides around it lay he!ple^s
in his own dungeons, in the brief interval that elapsed between his
capture and horrible death, wiiat thoughts may not, we might almost
say must not, have crowded into the brain of the unhappy noble-
man ! Taught, perhaps, when too late, the wisdom of humanity and
love, we may imagine him giving utterance to some such thoughts
as those expressed by the poet : —

" An<l tliia place our forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom
To each poor brother who oflends against us —
Most imioceut, perhaps — and what if guilty ?
Is this the only cure?"

Or as he reflected with unutterable anguisli on tlie beauty of the
liceue without — tliat scene on which he had so often gazed with heed-
less eyes, but that, now that he was to behold it but once more,
seemed to his imagination bathed in loveliness and romance — could
he fail to arrive in some degree at the poet's conclusion? —

" With other ministrations, thou, O Nature,
Healest thy wandering and distempered cliild ;
Thou pourest on liim thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,
Till he relent, and can no more endure
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy ;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit healed and harmonised
By the benignant touch of love and beauty."

Alas, that the truths here so exquisitely conveyed should be still
unregarded ! The dungeons of a former day have changed their
name, and improved in their superficial characteristics, it is true ;
but only to fit them for still more extensive application. When
" such pure and natural outlets " of a man's nature are

" slu-ivelled up
By ignorance and parching poverty,

and

His energies roll back upon his heart,

And stagnate and corrupt, till, changed to poison,

They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-six)t,

we still

call in our pampered mountebanks ;
And theu's is their best cure ! Uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears."

Hut tlie dungeons of Pontefract Castle whisper of a still more fearful
story than tlie Earl of Lancaster's. As we walk about among the
ruins, and investigate the process of decay, since Gougli, tlie
editor of Camden, describes in the last century tlie remains of the
keep as consisting only of the " lower story, with horrible dungeons
and winding staircases ;" we look with especial interest for the
" narrow damp chamber formed in the thickness of the wall,
with two small windows next the court," where tradition says the
fate of Eichard II. was consummated, either by direct violence, as
the popular story has it, through the agency of Sir Piers Exton
and his band of assassins, some of whom perished in the struggle,
or by starvation, as other writers have related the matter. In the
short reign of the third Eichard, another batch of eminent men
underwent the sharp agony of tlie axe at Pontefract Castle, namely,
AVoodville, Elvers, Grey, Vaughan, and Hawse. Tlie edifice was
fii.ally dismantled and the materials sold, after the civil war, during
which it lis-.d resisted the parliamentary forces with extraordinary
bravery and determination, even subsequent to the death of
Charles I.

This said civil war was to our old castles generally, what the
Eeformation was to our grand and beautiful ecclesiastical remains;
with this difference, that the injuries in the one case were necessarily
of a much severer character than in the other. Hence we find, in
looking back to the history of a large portion of cur castles, that
they were comparatively in good preservation up to the sixteenth
century, and in ruin beyond that time. GooDnicii Castle, Here-
fordshire (Fig. 422), was one of these, the owners of which could
boast that the structure dated from a period anterior to the Con-
quest ; and during the civil war it was defended with a courage
worthy of its reputation. It is recorded of Goodrich Castle that
it held out longer than any other Englisli fortress for the king,
M'ith the single exception of Pendennis Castle, in Cornwall. If one
could grieve at a matter that necessarily involves so many points
for congratulation, we might lament to see how few and compara-
tively unimportant are the remains of such a castle, interesting to
us for its age, and still more by the memory of one at least of its
early inhabitants, the brave Talbot of history, and of Shakspere's

Henry the Sixth (First Part). It appears from the records of
Goodrich Castle, that when a great man in the middle ages erected
a fortress, it was not always the expensive affair we are accustomed
to consider it. Goodrich, in tlie fourteenth century, came into the
possession of Elizabeth, daughter of John Lord Comyn, of
Badenagh, in Scotland. The notorious Hugh le Despencer and
his son, it appears, had taken a particular fancy for portions of this
lady's property, and the way they set about the accomplishment
of their desires speaks volumes as to the state of society at the
period. The lady Elizabeth was suddenly seized, carried into
another part of the country, confined for upwards of a year, and
finally compelled, from "fear of death," as it is stated in a manu-
script cited by Dugdale in his ' Baronage,' to cede to the son iier
castle of Goodrich, and to the father her manor of Painswick.
Certainly, as with these feudal oppressors even-handed justice did
often commend the poisoned chalice to their own lips, tliere is
something more than accident in such remarkable conjunctions as
the fate of the Eai 1 of Lancaster before mentioned and tiie character
of the dungeons in his castle — in the wrongs done to this lady and
the cliaracter of the dungeons still traceable among the ruins of
her castle. The keep, of Saxon, or very early Norman architecture,
originally consisted of three small rooms, one above another; at
the bottom was a dungeon, which had not even a single loop-hole
for light or air, but was connected by a narrow passage with
another and smaller dungeon, situated beneath the platform of the
entrance-steps of the exterior, which had a very small opening for
the admission of air ; and thus alone was life preserved even for a
time ill the inner dungeon. It is a relief to esca])e from such dreadful
recollections of our old castles, to the gay and brilliant scenes that
occasionally made them the centres of enjoyment to assembled
thousands, when, for instance, the tournament brought from all parts
of the country the j'Oiing and old, rich and poor, the knightly and
the would-be knightly, to see lances broken or to break them, to
conquer or to be conquered. Tiiere were occasions, too, when the ex-
citing and brilliant sports of the tournament were enhanced by pecu-
liar circumstances, calculated in the highest degree to attract, not only
the chivalry of Old England, but of Europe, into the lists. One of the
most grandly situated of castles is that of Peverii, of the Peak
(Fig. 424), built by a natural son of the Conqueror, whose name it
bears. This was some centuries afterwards in the possession of
William Peverii, a valiant knight, who had two daugliters, one of
whom, Mellet, having privily resolved to marry none but a knight
who should distinguish himself for his warlike prowess, her fatiier,
sympathizing with her feelings, determined to invite the noble
youth of England generally to compete for such a prize in a grand
tournament. The castle of Whittington, in the county of Salop,
was also to reward the victor by "way of a fitting dowry for the
bride. We may judge of the hosts who would assemble at such an
invitation ; and even royal blood was among them, in the person of
the Scottish King's son. AVorthy of the day, no doubt, were the
feats performed. Among the combatants, one knight with a silver
shield and a peacock for his crest speedily distinguished himself.
The best and bravest in vain endeavoured to arrest his successful
career. The Scottish prince was overthrown ; so was a baron of
Burgoyne. Their conqueror was adjudged the prize. Guarine de
Meez, a branch of the house of Lorraine, and an ancestor of the
lord Fitzwarren, thus wooed and won an Englisli bride, at Peveril's
Place in the Peak.

There are two castles that belong to the present period, inasmuch
as that their erection chiefly took place in it ; we allude to Caris-
brook, in the Isle of Wight, and Kenilworth : but as in both cases
the most essential points of their subsequent history refer to later
periods, we shall confine our present notices to the erection.
Caeisbrook (Fig. 427) stands at a short distance from the town of
Newport, and near the central point of the isle, of which, from the
days of the Saxons and of the isle's independent sovereignty down
to a comparatively recent period, it has been the chief defence.
The keep, and the great artificial mound on which it stands, are
supposed to have been erected so early as the sixth century. Five
centuries later, the Norman possessor, Fitz-Osborne, desiring to
enlarge his fortress, built additional works, covering together a
squiire space of about an acre and a half, with rounded angles, the
whole surrounded by a fosse or ditch. All lands in the isle were
then held of the castle, or in other words, of the honour of
Carisbrook ; and on the condition of serving and defending it at all
times from enemies. Of this early building, which still formed only
the nucleus of the very extensive and magnificent fortress which
ultimately was raised on the sjiot, the cliief remains are the western
side of the castle, forming an almost regular parallelogram, with
rounded corners ; and the keep, on the north, ascended by a flight

Chap. I.J

OLD ENGLAND.

107

of RfVfiity-two »le|)H. Tlie lowest Ktory only is pniierved. In the
centre of the kt'c|) tliero in a well 300 Icet deep, telling, by its very
foruKitioti under Kucii diiliciilt circnnislnnceii, thu ini|K)rtaiice of
its existence. KeNiLWoicrii (Fig. 430) Mcemit to have derived ita
name and its earliest Cit^tlc from tiio fortress mentioned l>y
l)ii{j;dalc as stuniling, even in tlie Saxon times, upon a place called
Iloni, or Holme Hill, and wliieli, it is supposed, wa'« built by one
of tlic Saxon kings of Merci.i, named Kenulph, and his son Kenelni.
AVortli, in the Saxon, means mansion or dMelling-place ; conse-
quently the formation of the wort! Kenilworth is tolerably clear.
Hut otiier writers consider this date as much too modern : to curry
back the liislory of Kenilworth only toa Saxon king is not sufticient;
wu must go to the Britons at once, and their great sovereign of
romance, and perhaps reality — Arthur,

" Tlint here, with roynl court, ubodo did muko."

Whatever the beginning of this castle, its end seems certain eMougli :
Dugiiiile says it was demolished in the wars between King Edmund
and Canute tlie Dane. About a century later, or in the reign of
Henry tiie First, the present castle was commenced by Geoffrey de
Clinton, who is stated " to liave been of very mean parentage, and
merely raised from tlie dust by the favour of the paid King Henry,
from whose hands he received large possessions and no small honour,
being made botli Lord Chamberlain and Treasurer to the said King,
ami afterwards Justice of England ; which great advancemetits do
ai'giie that he was a man of extraordinary parts. It seems he took
ninch delight in this place, in respect of the spacious woods and
that large and plea.<ant lake (through which divers petty streams do
pass) lying amongst them ; for it was he that first built that great
and strong castle here, wliich was the glory of all these pnrts, nnd
f )r many respects may be ranked in tlie third place at the least with
tlie most stately cast ks in England." Dugdale (' Baronage ') here
refers no doubt to the strength, size, and architectural character of
the castle; but if its historical importance be considered, or, above
all, if we weigh the associations which a single writer of our own
age has bound nj) with its decaying walls, we must a.«sign to it a
rank that knows no superior : we must consuler the "glory of these
l)arts " might now without exaggeration be more accurately described
as the glory of the civilized worM.

With a group of border castles — Norham, Warkworth, and New-
castle — we shall conclude for the pre.sent our notice of such structures.
No mention is made in Domesday-Book of the county of Northum-
berland, in which these three castles are situated, for the reason pro-
bably that the Conqueror conki not even pretend to have taken pos-
session of it. And there was then little temptation to induce him to
achieve its conquest. Nothing can be conceived more truly anarchic
than the state of the country in and around Northumberland at the
time. The chief employment of the inhabitants was plundering
the Scots on the other side of the Tweed — their chief ambition was
to avoid being plundered in return. But the Scots seem generally
to have had the best of it; who, not content with taking goods,
began to take the owners also, antl make domestic slaves of them.
It is said that about or soon after the period of the Conquest, there
was scarcely a single house in Scotland that was without one or
more of these English unfortunates. To check such terrible inroads,
castles now began to spring up in every part ; to these the inhabit-
ants generally of a district flocked on any alarm of danger; and
for centuries such a state of things continued unchanged. A highly
interesting picture of domestic border life, and which is at the same
time unquestionably trustworthy, has been preserved in the writings
of Pope Pius II., who, before his elevation to the pontificate ri«ted
various countries in an official capacity— among.st the rest Scotland,
to which he was sent as private legate about the middle of the
fifteenth century. "The Border Land" naturally attracted his
curiosity, and he determined to risk the danger of a personal visit.
He thus describes the result. His family name, it may be mentioned,
was jEneas Sylvius Piccolomini.

" There is a river (the Tweed) which, spreading itself from a
high mountain, parts the two kingdoms. JEneas having crossed
this in a boat, and arriving about sunset at a large village, went
to the house of a peasant, and there supped with the priest of the
place and his host. The table was plentifully spread with large
quantities of pulse, poultry, and gee.«e, but neither wine nor bread
was to be found there ; and all the people of the town, both men and
woman, flocked about him as to some new sight ; and as we gaze
at negroes or Indians, so did they stare at .^neas, asking the priest
where he came from, what he came about, and whether he was a
Christian. ./Eneas, understanding the difficulties he must expect on
this journey, had taken care to provide himself at a certain monas-
tery with some loaves, and a measure of red wine, at sight of which

they were Mixed with greater utooUlimeut, Imrlng never wea wine
or while bread. The tupper \iu,iing till the mcoimI lioiir of the oiylit,
the priest and host, with all the men sod cliildna. mailt tba bwt of
their way off, and left Alitt-a: 'llu-y mid tbejr were goiiif to m
tower a great way off, fur fear of the ScoU, who whea IIm tide wm
out would come over the river and plunder ; nor eoald they, with kU
his cntreatie-H, by any mean* be prevailed un to take JBam» with
them nor any of the women, though nwny of ihcm were young and
liandMime ; fur they think them in no danger froia an eoeay, not
considering violence offereil to women a« any barm. !Fnm» thwn-
fore remained alone with them, with two servant* and a guide, and a
hundred women, who made a circle round the fire, and lat the rcat of
the night without sleeping, drcMing hemp and citattiag wiiii ibe
interpreter. Night wav now fur advanced wiien a great nolte wat
heard by the barking of the dog* and screaming of tlie gotim ; all
the women made the be>t of their way off, the guide getting away
with the rest, and there wo* as much confusion as if the enemy
was at liand. jEneas thought it more prudent to wait the event in
his beil-room (which happcnc<l to be a stable), appivbaoding if be
went out he might mistake his way, and be robbed by the first be
met. And soon after the women came back with tlie interpreter,
and reported there was no danger : for it was a party of friends, and
not of enemies, that were come." (Camden's translation.) Justiucb
a castle of defence for a population, rather llian a residence fur their
lord, wo may suppaie NoatiAM (Fig. 428) to have been built by the
Bishofis of Durham, about the beginning of the twelilh centurv ; the
gloomy ruins which still overhang the Tweed exhibiting no traces
of exterior ornament, its walls reduced to a mere shell, its outworks
demolished, and a part of the very hill on which it was raised washed
away by the river. The keep alone exist* in a state to remind ua
of the original strength and iniportanccof the fortress, when it wasso
frequently the scene of contest between the i>coplc of the two countries.
On the accession of Stephen we find David of Scotland besieging and
capturing Norham, for Maud, Stephen's rival ; a little later the
process was repeated by and for the same parties ; and then Norham is
said to have been demolished. In the reign of John, however, we
find it in existence, stronger than ever, and successfully r^
utmost efforts of the Scots, then in alliance wiih the revolt',^ ^...^....'.t
Barons. The next time the defenders were less brave, or !«■
fortunate: in the reign of Edward III. the Scots once more ob-
taineil (lossession of Norliam. But we need not follow iui history
further ; so by way of contrast to the scene as represented in out
engraving, let us transcribe a glimpse of Norham Castle un.liT mnrf
favourable circumstances : —

" Doy sot on N'orham's castle steep.
And Tweed's fair liver, broxl and deep.

And Cheviot's mountaius lone ;
The battled towers, tlio dragon keep.
The loop-ly)lo grates, where captives we^
The flanking walls that round it sweep.
In yellow lustre shouc,

•* The warriors on tlie turrets high.
Moving athwart the evening sky,

Seem'd forms of giant height ;
Their amionr, as it caught the rays,
Flash d bock again with western blaze

In lines of Jiizzling light."

M.tB]U0X.

The ruins of Warkwobth (Figs. 419, 420), in their generally
elegant and picturesque outline, present a strong contrast to those
of Norham. Residence for the lord as well as protection for his
vassals has evidently been studied here. The situation in itself is
wonderfully fine. It stands on an eminence above the river
Coquet, a little beyond the southern extremity of the town ot
Warkworth, and commands on all sides views of the greatest
beauty and variety. In one direction you have the sea outspread
before you, with the Fern Islands scattered over its surface; whilst
along the shore-line the eye passes to the Castles of Dunstan-
borough and Bamborough at the extremity ; in another yon dwell
with pleasnre on the richly cultivated valley that extends up to
Alnwick Castle; then again in a third, there are the beautiful
banks of the Coquet river, dear to salmon-fishers and lovers of
native precious stones, many of whirli are found among its rands;
and lastly, in a fourth, you gaze u|xin an extensive plain inclining
seawards, and which is as remarkable for the fertility of its soil,
and the amount of iu agricultural products, as for the air of
peaceful happiness that overspreads the whole— pasture, arable, and
woo<ilands, villages, liamlets, and churches. Such was the site, and
the structure was scarcely less magnificent. The outer walls,
which are in many parts entire, enclosed a space of about five acr»i,

lU8

42a.— I'uiiifri't t'uhll'

430.— KcollworUi CwiU, in Hia.—rnm Utt fntnj'tiaxk^^t

416.— Ruins of Ftrabam Caatle.

«a;.-TlM KM|k CMibnii.lu t<—

(M.- Bolas of iSarbun CuUr.

43i.-OMUe or StWCMOMpOO-l^tA

l/M

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book li.

were about thirty-five feet liigli, and encircled by a moat. The gate-
way, of which little is preserved, was a noble building, with numrrous
apartments for the oflicers of the castle; and the keep, which was
of great size, and octagonal, had its eight apartments with stone
vaulted roofs on the ground floor, for the protection, it is said, of
cattle brought in from the neighbourhood during any incursion of
the Scots ; also its great Baronial ilall, nearly forty feet long by
twenty-four wide, and twenty high ; all of which, though deprived of
their roofs, floors, and windows, remain, through the excellence of the
masonry, in admirable preservation. Cupidity alone, indeed, has
been here at work to destroy. In Leland's time the castle was " well
maintained," but in the early part of the seventeenth century the
buildings of the outer court, with some others, were stripped of tlieir
lead and otherwise dismantled; and in 1672 the noble keep itself
was unroofed. Warkworth has for several centuries been in pos-
session of the Percy family. One can hardly mention these names
together without also noticing fiie neighbouring hermitage, wiiich
Bishop Percy has made memorable by his poem of the ' Hermit of
Warkworth.' This is situated in the perpendicular rocks which
form the north bank of the Coquet, about a mile above the town,
and consists of " two apartments hewn out of the rock, with a
lower and outward apartment of masonry, built up against the side
of the rock, which rises about twenty feet high ; the yjrincipal apart-
ment, or ciiapel, is about eighteen feet long, seven and a half wide,
and seven and a lialf high, adorned with pilasters, from which soring
the groins of the roof: at tlie east end is an altar with a niche be-
hind it for a crucifix ; and near tiie altar is a cavity containing a ceno-
taph, with a recumbent female figure having tlie hands raised in the
attitude of prayer. In the inner apartment are another altar and a
niche for a couch. From this inner apartment was a door leading
to an open gallery or cloister. Steps led up from the hermitage
to the hermit's garden at the top of the bank." (Penny Cyclopaedia.)
WIio was the iniiabitant of this strange home, and why he inhabited
it, are questions that after all we must leave the poets and romance-
writers to solve, and they could not be in better hands. It has been
supposed tliat one of the Bertram family, who had murdered his
brother, was the tenant of tlie hermitage, desiring in solitude by
unceasing repentance to expiate his crime ; but all we know is tliat
the Percy family maintained from some unknown period a chantry
priest here.

As the present fortress of Newcastle (Fig. 431) was erected
by Robert de Curthose, the eldest of the Conqueror's sons, on his
return from an expedition into Scotland, we may judge of tlie
general antiquity of the place by the name then given, the New-
Castle. There can be no doubt, indeed, that the spot had been a
Roman station, and very little but that in those early days it had
been of some importance. After the introduction of Christianity
the place became known by tlie name of Monk Chester, from the
number of monastic institutions it contained. On tlie erection of
the fortress, ihe town took the same name, New-Castle. The
tower of this Norman structure remains essentially complete, and
forms one of the most striking specimens in existence of the rude
but grand-looking and (for the time) almost impregnable Norman
stronghold. The first point of attraction to a visitor's eyes on
entering Newcastle is that huge gloomy pile ; it is also the last on
which he turns his lingering glance on his departure. It stands
upon a raised platform near the river, majestically isolated in its
own " garth" or yard, to which we ascend by a steep flight of steps,
spanned near the top by a strong postern with a circular Norman
arch, reminding us of the difliculties that formerly attended such
ascent when the approval of the inhabitants of the castle had not
been previously gained. Crossing the garth to the east side, the
one shown in the engraving (Fig. 431), wo perceive the extraordi-
nary character of the entrance, which, commencing at the corner on
the left hand, and gradually rising, runs through the pile that
seems to have been built against the keep rather than forming
an integral part of it up to a considerable iieiglit, wiiere the real
entrance into the keep (originally most riclily decorated) is to be
found. Through this entrance we pass into one of the most re-
markable of halls; it is of immense breadth, length, and height,
dimly lighted through the various slit holes, hung here and there
with rusty armour, and inhabited by an old pensioner and his
family, whose little domestic conveniences when the eye does light
upon them (for generally speaking they are lost in the magnitude of
the place) have a peculiarly quaint effect. The recesses in various
parts formed out of the solid thickness of the wall give us the best
idea of its strength ; one of these, possibly intended for the min-
strels who sung the mighty deeds of the Norman chivalry to men
yearning to emulate their fame, is alone of the size of a small and
not very small apartment. But let us descend by the winding

staircase to the chapel beneath; recalling as we go a few recollec-
tions on the general subject of chapels in castles.

In the plan of an ancient castle (Fig. 346) it will be seen that
the chapel forms a component part of the whole ; and in turning
from tlie plan to the descriptions of our castles generally, we find
in almost every case a similar provision made for the performance
of religious duties. It may seem either a melancholy or a consola-
tory consideration, acconiing to the point of view from which we
look, to perceive that in the age to which our present pages refer
when the mailed nobles made might right, declared their pleasure
and called it law, that then religion, as far as regarded sincere, zea-
lous, and most unquestioning faith, and an indefatigable observance
of all its forms and ceremonies, formed also a most conspicuous
feature of the same men. To pray for mercy one hour, and be most
merciless the next ; to glorify the Giver of all good, as the most fitting
preparation for the dispensation of all evil ; to enshrine their hopes
of salvation on the altar of Christ, the divine messenger of love,
whilst they pressed forward to the mortal end of all through a con-
tinuous life of rapine, violence, and strife ; — these were the almost
unvarying characteristics of the early Norman lords, the builders
of the old castles, where the keep and the chapel yet stand in many
places side by side in most significant juxtaposition ; the material
embodiment of the two principles thus strangely brought together
working to the most opposite conclusions, but with the utmost appa-
rent harmony of intention. The great castle-builder provided his
walls and his courts, his keep and his dungeons ; but a chapel was
no less indispensable alike to his station and his actual wants. Be-
leaguered or free, lie must be able at all times to hear the daily
mass, or, more grateful still to lordly ears, the pious orison offered
up for his own and his family's welfare ; he must be able to fly to
the chapel for succour when the " thick-coming fancies " of super-
stition press upon his imagination and appal him by their mysterious
influence, or when defeat or danger threatens ; there, too, in the
hour of triumph must he be found, his own voice mingling with
the chant of the priests ; at births, baptisms, marriages, and deaths,
the sacred doors must ever be at hand ; the child fast growing up
towards man's estate, who has spent his entire life within the castle
walls, looks forward to the chapel as tlie scene that shall usher him
into a world of glory — already he feels the touch of the golden
spurs, the sway of the lofty plumes, the thrill of the fair hands
that gird on his maiden sword ; already with alternating hopes and
fears, he anticipates his solitary midnight vigil within the chapel
walls. And truly such a night in such a place as this, to which we
have descended, below the keep of Newcastle, was calculated to try
the tone of the firmest nerves ; for though beautiful, exceedingly
beautiful it is in all that respects the architectural style to which
it belongs, and of which it is a rare example, there are here no
lofty pointed windows, with their storied panes, to admit the full
broad stream of radiant splendour, or to give the idea of airiness or
elegance to the structure. All is massive, great, and impressively
solemn (Fig. 432).

The Chapel in the Tower of London (Fig. 433), equally perfect
with that of Newcastle, and probably equally ancient, presents in
its aspect as remarkable a contrast to that structure as a work erected
in the same age, country, and style could have well given us. Here
we have aisles divided from the nave by gigantic but noble-lookinj
pillars, being divested of the low stunted character often apparent
in Norman ecclesiastical edifices ; and their effect is enhanced in no
slight degree by the arches in the story above. The chapel is now
used as a Record OflSice. We need only briefly mention the other
ecclesiastical building of the Tower, the Chapel of St. Peter, stand-
ing in the area that surrounds the White Tower, and which must
be of very early date, siise we fiud that in the reign of Henry III.
it was existing in a state of great splendour, with stalls for the king
and queen, two chancels, a fine cross, beautiful sculpture, paintings,
and stained glass. But at whatever period erected, the view (Fig.
434) shows us that material alterations cf the original building have
])robably taken place, though no doubt the pews, the flat roof, and
the Tudor monuments are themselves sufficient, in so small a place,
to conceal or to injure the naturally antique expression. But there
are peculiar associations connected with these walls that make all
others tedious in the comparison as a " twice-told tale." In our
previous remarks we have glanced at the general uses of the cha-
pels in our old castles ; this one of the Tower has been devoted to
a more momentous service than any there enumerated ; hither, from
time to time, have come a strangely assorted company, led by the
most terrible of guides, the executioner, through the most awful
of paths, a sudden and violent death : in a word, beneath the un-
suggestive-looking pavement, which seems to mock one's earnest
gaze, and along which one Walks with a reverential dread of dis-

CUAP. 1.]

OLD ENGLAND.

Ill

tiirbiiig tlie ashes of tlioso who lie below, were buried the innocent
Anne Boleyn and her brother, and the guilty Catherine Howard
and her associate, Lady Rociiford ; the venerable Lady Salisbury,
and Cromwell, Henry VIIL's minister; the two Scynioum, tlie
Admiral and the Protector of the reign of Edward VI., and the
Duke of Norfoliv, and the I'^rl of Essex, of liie reign of Elizabeth ;
Charles 1 1. 's son, the Duke of Monmouth, and the Earls of Ualnicrino
and Kilmarnock, with their ignoble coadjutor. Lord Lovat ; above
all, here were buried Bishop Fisher, and his illustrious friend More.
One woulii suppose, on looking over such a list of naniefl, that the
scaffold, while assuming the mission of Death, was emulous to strike
with all Death's impartiality, and sweep away just and unjust, guilty
and innocent, with equal imperturbability. It was a short road from
the opening to this death-in-Iife at the Traitor's Gate (Fig. 43')),
and thence through the gaping jaws of the Bloody Tower (Fig. 436),
to the final resting-place of St. Peter's Chapel.

History and ballad, the chronicler and the troubadour, and more
effectually than either, the novelist of the North, have made Richard
Cccur de Lion one of the favourite heroes of England (Fig. 437).
Without the wisdom of his great father, he was the rejjresentativeof
tl>j courage, the fortitude, and the gallantry of the Plantagenets —
of the mixed blood of the Saxon and Norman races. We follow
the fortunes of the royal crusader over many a battle-field, in which
gallantry was always sure of its guerdon from his knightly sword
(Fig. 442). We can almost believe in the old metrical romance,
which tells us how

" The awloss lion could not wsgo the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Bichaid's hand."

(Fig. 444.) The touching friendship of his minstrel, Blondel, tells
us that the lion-hearted king had something even nobler in his nature
than his indomitable courage and his physical strength. " One day
he (Blondel) sat directly before a window of the castle where King
Richard was kept prisoner, and began to sing a song in French,
\yhich King Richard and Blondel had sometime composed together.
When King Richard heard the song, he knew it was Blondel that
snug it ; and when Blondel paused at half of the song, the King
began the other half, and completed it." His was a premature
death. But generous as he was, he would have been a dangerous
keeper of the rights of England. Of his brother John, the mean
and treacherous John, a modern writer finely says: "The strong
hands of the two first Plantagenets, Henry II. and Richard Coeur
de Lion, his father and brother, were in the dust, and the iron
sceptre which they had wielded lay rusting among the heavy
armour which an imbecile and coward could not wear" (Pictorial
History of England, vol. i.). The heart of Richard, by his own
direction, was carried to his faithful city of Rouen for interment,
and his body was buried at the feet of his father at Fontevraud :
Lis statue, which was placed upon his tomb in that ancient
monastery, is still remaining. It is of painted stone, and this is the
principal authority for the portrait of Richard (Fig. 438). Here
also is an effiuy of his Queen Berengaria (Fig. 440). The faithful
city of Rouen did not well keep its faith to the lion-hearted. A
splendid tomb was erected over the heart of the king, and it was
surrounded by a silver balustrade; but within half a century the
faithful city melted the silver. In the year 1733 the chnpter of the
Cathedral, to effect some alteration in their church, pulled down
the monuments of Richard and his brother, and of the great Duke
of Bedford, and they laid down three plain slabs instead, in the
pavement of the high altar. In 1838 some searches under this pave-
ment were made by the prefect of the department, and amongst the
rubbish was found a fine but mutilated statue of Richard (Fig. 439),
and a leaden box containing a smaller box, which held all tliat re-
mained of the lion-heart — something that had "the appearance of a
reddish-coloured leaf, dry and bent round at the ends." — " To this
complexion we must come at last."

The name of King John has two loading associations — Magna
Cliarta and his murdered nephew. The great dramatic poet of
England has .«o associated the fortunes of Constance and Arthur
with the troubles, the fears, and the death-struggles of tluir faith-
less kinsman, that we look upon these events through the poetical
medium as a natural series of cause and consequence. " The death
of Arthur and the events which marked the last days of John were
separated in their causes and effect by time only, over which the poet
leaps." But tiie |)olitical history of John may be read in the most
durable of antiquities — the Records of the kingdom. And the
people may read the most remarkable of these records whenever they
please to look upon it. I^Iagna Charta, the great charter of Eng-
land, entire as at the hour in which it was written, is preserved, not

for reference on doubtful qumtiwu of right, not to Ini procUioMd
at market-crones or to U> read in cluirchw, u ii) Ute time of
Edward L, but for the gnitiflcation of « JtMt enrioiity and na iioiMat
national pride. The humbletit in tlie land amy look upon tint
document day by day, in the iirititb Museum, whicb mar* tliu dx
hundred yean ago declared that " no freeman sliall be arrwted or
imprisoned, or dispoMeiwed of Ilia tenement, or outlawed, or esilad,
or in any manner proceeded against, iinleaa by tlie legal jiiilniiiiiMl
of his pecrK, or by the law of the land." Thi* i* tjM fiwodadoa ol
statute upon statute, and of what is as stringent •• atatata^ tW
common bw, througli which for six hundred yean we bave been
struggling to brnitho the breath of freedom— and we have not
struggled in vain. The Great Cliarter is in Latin, written in a
l)eautiful hand, of which we give a s|)cciinen in Pig. ASS,

Runneine<le — or Riiningmede, as the Charter haa it — was, ac-
cording to Matthew of Westminster, a pUoe where treatiea ooa.
cerning the |>eace of the kingdom Imd l>een often made. The uaae
distinctly signifies a place of council. Rune-med b an Anglo-
Saxon compound, meaning the Council-Meadow. We can never
forget that Council-Meadow, for it entered into our fir»t visions of
Liberty : —

" Fair Bunncmnlo I oft batli my lingering eye
Paus'd on th; tufted green and caltnr'd bill ;
And there my busy soul would drink her flU

Of lofty dreams, which on thy bosom lie.

Dear plain I never my feet turo pa«'d thee by,
At q)rightly mom, high noon, or eraning still.
But thou host fashion 'd all my pliant wQl

To BOul-eoDobliDg thoughts of liberty.

Tbon dost not need a periatiabia stone
Of scnlptar'd story ; — records cror yoong

Proclaim the gladdening trimnph thou bast Icnowii :
The soil, tlie passing stream, hath still a tongue ;

And evciy wind breathes oat an eloquent tone.

That Freedom's self might wake tby fields amaag."

These are commonplace rhymes — schoolboy verses; but we are
not ashamed of having written them. Runnemede was our Mara-
thon. Very beautiful is that narrow slip of meadow ou the edge of
the Thames, with gentle hills bounding it for a mile or so. It is a
valley of fertility. Is this a fitting place to be the cradle of English
freedom ? Ougiit we not, to make our associations harmoniou'', to
have somettiing bolder and sterner than this quiet mead, and ih.it
still water with its island cottage? (Fig. 455.). Poetry telN us that
" rocky ramparts" are

" TLo rough abodes of want and liberty." — Gaar.
But the liberty of England was nurtured in her proaperfty. The
Great Ciia:ter, which says, "No freeman, or merchant, or villain
shall be unreaitonably fined for a small offence — the first shall nut
be deprived of his tenement, the second of his merchandise, the
third of his implements of husbandry " — exhibited a state far more
advanced than tliat of the " want and liberty," of the poet, where
the iron race of the mountain cliffs

" Insult the plenty of the Talcs below."
Runnemede is a fitting place for the cradle of English liberty.
Denliam, who from his Cooper's Hill lookc<l down upon- the Thames,
wandering jmst this mead to become '• the world's exchange," some-
what tamely speaks of the plain at his feet : —

" Iloro was that Charter seal'd, whcrciu the crown
All marks of arbitroiy power lays down ;
Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear.
The happier stylo of king and subject bear ;
Happy when botli to the some centre move.
When kings give liberty, and subjects lore."

Our liberty was not so won. It was wrested from kings, and not
given by them; and the love we bestow upon those who are the
central point of our liberty is the homage of reason to security.
That security has made the Thames "the world's exchange;" that
sccuriiv has ntised up the great city which lies like a mist below
Ciwper's Hill ; that security has caused the towen of Windsor,
which we see from the same hill, to rise up in new splendour,
instead of crumbling into ruin like many a stronghold of feudal
oppression. Our pro.«i>crity is the child of our free iostitutiooa ;
and the child has gone forward strengthening and succouring tbe
parent. Yet the iron men who won this charter of liberties dreamt
not of the day when a greater power than their own, the power of
the merchants and the villains, would rise up to keep what they had
sworn to win ujwn the altar of St. Edmundsbury (Fig. 463). The
Fitz- Walter, and De Roos, and De Clare, and De Percy, and De
Mandevillo, and De Vescy, and De Mowbray, and De Slontacute,
and De Beauchamp— these great progenitors of our English nobi-
lity compelled the despot to put his seal to the Charter c f Bunn»-

432.--Ch«p<' In Newcatlie C«»Ue.

, the White Tower.

btrels"
yeariiii
not verj

4i(i.— OaWway of the Bloody Tower.

■^^'^ri^k^k

«8.— Tht Trtltort 0«1».

437.— Oreal Seal of lUclioril I.

P'R

' l''l\>

ll ;

'' n

1 *

r 1

!>'

I >

''•• ;/ 1

ii'

< 1 1

1 ' t

1 ,

'1 ,1 : |i 1*1

'<^

!0,— Bercngarta, C^ieon of Kicbanl I
From tbe Tomb at Fontcvranlt.

t r. — Tb* .Vtnna Qrwadcr.

433.— Efflgy of Richard I.— From tbo
LwU.: foaod at B<"Mii,

' <U.— hJii)(bllng uu the Field of B«tU«.

^4\— Avinln Ii-s.
n. HelnMI of Kiclunl 1
b, Daldwtii. Cuuui ul Flandcra. I in
e, » .. - 1303.

4(«~Ricfe*cd and Um Uco.

No. i;

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

raede (Fig. 459). But anotiier order of men, whom they of the
pointed sliield and the mascled armour would have despised as slaves,
have kept and will keep, God willing, what they won on the 1 5th
of June in the year of grace 1215. The thing has rooted into our
English earth like the Ankerwyke Yew on the opposite bank of the
Thames, which is still vigorous, though held to be older than the
great day of Runnemede (Fig. 457).

Magna Charta is a record. Bishop Nicolson says, " Our stores
of public records are justly reckoned to excel in age, beauty, cor-
rectness, and authority, whatever the choicest arcliives abroad can
boast of the like sort." Miles, nay, hundreds of miles, of parclmient
are preserved in our public offices, whicli incidentally exhibit the
progress of the nation in its institutions and its habits, and decide
many an historical fact which would otherwise be matter of con-
troversy or of speculation. Notiiing can more truly manifest tlie
value of these documents than the fact that the actual place in
which this said King John was, on almost every day, from the first
year of his reign to the last, has been traced by a diligent examina-
tion of the Patent Rolls in the Tower of London. Mr. Haniy has
appended to his curious Introduction to these Rolls, published by
authority of the Record Commission, the ' Itinerary of King John.'
A most restless being does he appear to have been, flying about in
cumbrous carriages (Fig. 461) to all parts of England ; sailing to
Normandy (Fig. 460) ; now holding his state in his Palace at
Westminster, now at Windsor (Fig. 464) ; and never at ease till
he wiis laid in his tomb at Worcester (Fig. 465). We extract an
instructive passage from Mr. Hardy's Introduction : —

" Rapin, Hume, Henry, and those English historians who have
followed Matthew Paris, state that, as soon as King John had
sealed the Great Charter, he became sullen, dejected, and reserved,
and shunning the society of his nobles and courtiers, retired, with a
few of his attendants, to the Isle of Wight, as if desirous of hiding his
iihame and confusion, where he conversed only w/th fishermen and
sailors, diverting himself with walking on the sea-shore with his
domestics ; that, in his retreat, he formed plans for the recovery of
the prerogatives which he had lately relinquished ; and meditated,
at the same time, the most fatal vengeance against his enemies ;
that he sent his emissaries abroad to collect an army of mercenaries
and BrabaQons, and dispatched messengers to Rome, for the purpose
of securing the protection of the papal see ; and that, whilst his
agents were employed in executing tlieir several commissions, he
himself remained in the Isle of Wight, awaiting the arrival of the
foreign soldiers.

"That tliese statements are partially if not wholly unfounded will
appear by the attestations to the royal letters during the period in
question.

" Previously to the sealing of Magna Charta, namely, from the
1st to the 3rd of June, 1215, the King was at Windsor, from which
place he can be traced, by his attestations, to Odiham, and thence
to Winchester, where he remained till the 8th. From Winchester
Jie went to Merton ; he was again at Odibam on the 9th, whence
he ret\irned to Windsor, and continued there till the 15th: on that
day he met the barons at Runnemede by appointment, and there
sealed the great charter of English liberty. The King then returned
to Wiudsor, and remained there until the 18th of June, from which
time until the 23rd he was every day both at Windsor and Runne-
mede, and did not finally leave Windsor and its vicinity before
the 26lh of the same month ; John then proceeded through Odiiiam
to Winchester, and continued in that city till the end of June. The
first four days of July he passed at Marlborough, from which place
he went to Devizes, Bradenstoke, and Calne ; reached Cirencester
on the 7th, and returned to Marlborough on the following day.
He afterwards went to Ludgershall, and through Clarendon into
Dor-setshire, as far as Corfe Castle, but 'returned to Clarendon
on the 15th of July, from whicli ))lace he proceeded, througii New-
bury and Abingdon, to Woodstock, and thence to Oxford, wiiere
he arrived on the 17th of that month ; and in a letter dated on the
15th of July, between Newbury and Abingdon, the King mentions
the impossibility of his reaching Oxford by tlie IClh, according to
liis appointment with the barons."

The publications of the Record Commissioners are enriched by
the researches of some of our most eminent living antiquarians, who
have brought to their task a fund of historical knowledge, and a
sagacity in showing the connection between tliese dust-covered
records and the history of our constitution, which have imparted a
precision to historical writing wiknown to the last age. No man
has laboured more assiduously in this field than Sir Francis Palgrave ;
and he has especially shown that a true antiquary is not a mere
scavenger of the baser things of time, but one whose talent and
knowledge can discover the use and the connection of ancient things.

which are not really worn out, and which are only held to be worth-
less by tiie ignorant and the unimaginative. Sir Francis Palgrave is
the Keeper of the Records in the Treasury of the Exchequer, and
his publication of the ancient Kalendars and Inventories of that
Treasury contains a body of documents of the greatest value, intro-
duced by an account of this great depository of the Crown Records,
which is full of interest and instruction. " The custom of depositing
records and muniments amongst the treasures of the state is
grounded upon such obvious reasons, that it p-evailed almost
universally amongst ancient nations ; nor, indeed, is it entirely
discontinued at the present day. Tiie earliest, and in all respects
the most remarkable, testimony concerning this practice is found in
the Holy Scriptures : — ' Now, therefore, if it seem good to the
King, let there be search made in the King's Treasure-house, which
is there at Babylon, whether it be so, that a decree was made of
Cyrus the King to build this house of God at Jerusalem.' ' Then
Darius the King made a decree, and search was made in the House
of the Rolls, where the treasures were laid up in Babylon.'" Tlie
high antiquity of this custom imparts even a new value to bur own
Treasure Chambers. Those wlio feel an interest in the subject may
consult a brief but valuable article under the head ' Records' in the
' Penny Cyclopsedia.' From Sir Francis Palgrave's Introduction *o
the Ancient Kalendars we extract one or two amusing passages
descriptive of some of the figures in p. 121 : —

" Tlie plans anciently adopted for the arrangement and preserva-
tion of tlie instruments had many peculiarities. Presses, such as are
now employed, do not seem to have been iii use. Chests bound with
iron ; — forcers or coffers, secured in the same manner ; — pouches or
bags of canvass or leather (Fig. 468); skippets, or small boxes
turned on the lathe (Fig. 469) ; — tills or drawers ; — and liaiiapers
or hampers of ' twyggys ' (Fig. 470) ; — are all enumerated as the
places of stowage or deposit. To these reference was made, some-
times by letters, sometimes by inscriptions, sometimes by tickets or
labels, and sometimes by ' signs ;' that is to say, by rude sketches,
drawings, or paintings, which had generally some reference to the
subject matter of the documents (Fig. 4(37).

"■ Thus the siyn of the instruments relating to Arragon is a lancer
on a jennet ; — Wales, a Briton in the costume of his country, one
foot shod and the other bare ; — Ireland, an Iiisher, clad in a very
singular hood and cape ; — Scotland, a Lochaber axe ; — Ya-rmouth,
three united herrings ; — the rolls of the Justices of the Forest, an
oak sapling ; — the obligations entered into by the men of Chester, for
their due obedience to Edward, Earl of Chester, a gallows, indicating
the fate which might be threatened in case of rebellion, or which
the officers of the Treasury thought they had already well deserved ;
— Riiyal marriages, a hand in hand ; — the indentures relating to tlie
subsidy upon woollen cloths, a pair of shears ; — instruments relating
to the lands of the Earl of Gloucester in AVales, a castle surrounded
by a banner ciiarged with the Clare arms ; — and the like, of which
various examples will be found by inspection of the calendars ai.d
memoranda.*

" Two ancient boxes painted with shields of arms, part of the old
furniture, are yet in existence, together with several curious che-ts,
coffers, and skippets of various sorts and sizes, all sufficiently curious
and uncouth, together with various specimens of the hanapers woven
of ' twyggys,' as described in the text.

"One of these hanapers was discovered under rather remarkable
circumstances. On the I5th of Feb., in the third year of the reign of
Richard II., Thomas Orgrave, clerk, delivers into the Treasury, to be
there safely kept, certain muniments relating to the lands and tene-
ments in Berkhampstead, formerly belonging to William, the son and
heir of John Hunt, and which the king had purchased of .Dj'oni.-ia,
the widow of William de Sutton, and which are stated to be placed
in a certain hanaper or hamper within a chest over the receipt.
Upon a recent inspection of a b;ig of deeds relating to the county
of Berks, I found that it contained the hanaper so described, with a

* " The rolls of the Justices of the Forest were maiked by tlie sapling oak (N'o. 1).
Papal bulls, by the triple crown. Four canvass pouches holding i-olls and tallies
of certain pnyments made for the church of Westminster were miirked by the cliurch
(3). The head in a cowl (4) marked an indenture reacting the jewels found in the
house of the Fratrcs Minorcs in Salop. The scales (5), the assay of the niuit in
Dublin. The Briton having one foot shod and the other bare, with the lance and
sword (6), marked the wooden ' colTn ' ho'.diug tlie acquittance of reccijits from
Llewellin, Prince of Wales. Three heiTings (7), the ' forcer ' of leather bound with
iron, containing documents relating to Yannouth, &c. The lancer (8), ducume.-.Js
relating to Arragon. The united liands (9), the marriage between Henry, Piiiice of
Wales, and Philippa, daughter of Henry IV. The galley (10), the recogniz.in:e
of merchants of the three galleys of Venice. The hand and book (11), fealty to
kings John and Henry. The charter or cyrograph (12), treaties and truces between
ICngland and f-cotlaad. The hooded monk (13), advowsons of Irish chuiclies,
and the castle with a burner of the Clare arms (14), recorils relating to the pos-
sessions of the Karl of Gloucester in Wales." — (Penny Cyclopadia.)

UlJAP. I.J

OLD ENGLAND,

115

lal)<;I exactly conformable to the entry in the memoranda, crumbling
and deeayiti'^, but tied up, and in a ulate which evidently nhowed
that it had never been opened since the time of its first deposit in
the Treasury ; and within the hinaper were all the several deeds,
Willi their ceals in the highest state of preservation."

Connected with the subject of the ancient records of the crown
in.ny be mentioned the Ullies of the Kxche<iuer, whicli were actually
in use from the very earliest timet till tlie year 1834. These pri-
mitive records of account have been thus described: "Tlie tallies
used in the Exchequer (one is shown in l-'ig. 471) answered the
pur|iosc of receipts as well as simple rewirds of matters of account.
'J'hey consiste<l of squared rods of hazel or other woo<l, upon one
side of which was marked, by notches, the sum for which tlie tally
was an acknowledgment; one kind of notch s'anding for 1000/.,
another for 100/., another for 201., and others for 20s., Is., Ac.
On two other sides of the tally, opposite to each other, the amount
of ihe sum, the name of the payer, and the dale of the transaction,
were written by an officer called the writer of the tallies; and afker
this was done, the stick was cleft longitudinally in such a manner
lliat each piece retained one of the written sidrs, and one-half of
every notch cut in the tally. One piece was then delivered to the
perron who had paid in the money, for wliicli it was a receipt or
acquittance, while the other was preserved in the Exchefjuer."
Tlie .Saxon Reeve-pole, used in the Isle of Portland down to a very
recent period by the collector of the king's rents, shows the sum
which each person has to pay to the king as lord of the manor
(Fig. 473). The Clog Almanac, which was common in StalFonl-
shire in the seventeenth century, was in the same way a record'
of the future, cut on the sides of a square stick, such as exhibited in
Fig. 472.

The same combination against the por.cr of the Crown which
produced the great charter of our liberties, relieved the people
from many regal oppressions by a charter of the forests. We can-
not look upon an old forest without thinking of the days when men
who had been accastom(Kl to the free range of their green woods
were mulcted or maimed for transgressing the ordinances of their
new hunter-kings. Our poet Cowper put his imagination in the
track of following out the customs of the Norman age in bis frag-
ment upon Yardley Oak, wliich was supposed to have existed before
the Normans : —

" Tliou wast a baablc onco ; a cnp and ball,
Wltich babes might play witli ; and the thievish jay.
Bucking litT food, with cose might have purloin'd
Tlic auburn nut that held theo, swallowing dowu
Thy yet closc-foMud latitude of boughs
And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp.
Bat Tate thy growth decreed ; autumnal raias
Beneath tliy parent tree mtUow'd the soil
Desigii'd thy cradle ; and a skipping deer,
With pointed hoof dibbling the glebe, preitarcd
Tlic soft receptacle, in which, secure.
Thy rudiments should sleep the winter ihrongli."

But the poet's purpose failed. England is full of such natural anti-
quities of the earliest period : " Within five and twenty miles of St.
Paul's, Ihe Great Western Railway wril place us in an hour (having
an additional walk of about two miles) in the heart of one of the most
secluded districts in England. We know nothing of forest scenery
equal to Burnham Beeches (Fig. 476). There are no spots approach-
ing to it in wild grandeur to be found in Windsor Forest ; Sherwood,
we have been told, has trees 'as ancient, but few so entirely un-
touched in moflern times. When at the village of Burnham, which
is about a mile and a half from the Railway-station at Maidenhead,
the beeches may be reached by several roads, each very beautiful
in its seclusion. We ascend a hill, and find a sort of table-land
forming a rude common with a few scattered houses. Gradually
the common grows less open. We see large masse* of wood in
clumps, and now and then a gigar.tic tree close by the roa<i. The
trunk* of these scattered trees are of amazing size. They are for
the most part pollards ; but not having been lopped for very many
years, they have thrown out mighty arms, which give us a notion
of some deformed son of Anak, noble as well as fearful in his grO'

tes^pie proportions. As we advance the wood thickens ; and as
the road leads us into a deep dell, we are at length completely
embosomed in a leafy wilderness. This dell is a most romantic
spot : it extends for some quarter of a mile between overhanging
banks covered with the graceful forms of the ash and the birch:
while the contorted beeches show their fantastic roots and unwieldy
trunks upon the edge of the glen, in singular contrast. If we walk
up this valley, we may emerge into the plain of beeches, from which

the place derives it* name. It is not easy to make
these interesting in deMsription. The great cbana of thte spot auy
be readily conceived, when it is known that ila charaetcrisiie i« aa
entire absence of human care. The property has been carefully
preserved in its ancient state, and the axe of tlie wootlman for uiany
a day has not been heard within its precincta. Tlie tbeap waader
through the U?n<ler gnvs as if tliey were the rightful lorda of tlM
domain. We asked a solitary ohl man, who was sitting on a stump,
whether there wai any account who plantetl this ancient wood ■
'Planted!' he replied, 'it was never planted: those treea are aa
old as the world I' However sceptical we might be as to the porir
man's chronology, we were sure that history or tradition could tell
little alxjut their planting.". We visite<l this place in 1841, and
this slight notice of it already published may as well be tran*f«rred
to these pag^. But England baa a store of popular association*
with her old oaks and yews in the vast collection of Robin Hood
Ilullads.

If there be one district of England over which more tlian over
any other Romance seems to have asserted an unquestionable sti-
preniacy — " This is mine henceforth, forever !" — and over which she
has drawn her veil of strange enchintments, making the fairest
objects appear fairer through that noble medium, and giving beauty
even to deformity itself, it is surely Sherwood Forest. If there be
one man of England whose story above the stories of all other nurn
has entered deeply into the popular heart, or stirred powerfully the
pfipulur imagination, there can be no doubt but it is the bold yeoman-
forester Robin Ho<xl. Who, in youth, ever read unmoved the ballads
ill which that story is chiefly related, absurd and untrue as un-
doubtedly many of them are? Who now can behold even a partLil
reflex of the lives of these joyoim inlmbitanls of the g^een woods,
such, for instance, as 'As You Like It' affords, without a sigh at
the contrast presented to our own safer, more peaceable, but
altogether unromantic pursuits? It It well, perhaps, that there is
now no banishc^i duke " in the Forest of Arden, and so many merry
men with him," living there " like the old liobin Hood of England :"
for there would be still "young gentlemen" too gla<l to "flock to
him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in tht
golden world." But, perhaps, the most decisive proof of tlie ir.>
herent interest of the lives of the Forest outlaws, is not tliat sudi
interest should simply still cxUt so many centuries after their death,
but that it should exist under the heavy load of mistakes and
aljsurdities tliat have so long Eurrouude<l and weighed it down : —
all honour to those whose unerring (jerceptions and stedfjst faitli
liavc kept that iutere.<t alive ! The philosopher has once more con-
descended to learn from the people whom he should teach. Wlut
they would not " willingly let die " under so many circumstances
adverse to preservation, he now, in our time, discovers is fit to live,
and forthwith satisfactorily proves what millions never doubt<-d,
that Ilobin Hood was worthy of his reputation — that he was no thief,
or robber, no mattjr how these epithets mi^ht be qualified in Cam-
den's phra.se of the " gentlest of thieves," or Major's of the " rood
humane and prince of all robbers." Altogether the tre^'ment during
late centuries of the story of Sherwood Forest has been at once
curious and instnictivc. The people wisely taking for g^iited the
essentials of that story as handed down lo them from generation to
generation, and which descrilied Robin Hood as their benefactor in
an age when heaven knows benefactors to them were few enough,
and which at the same time invested him with all the attributes on
which a people delight to dwell, as mirroring, in short, all their own
best qualities — liatred of oppression, courage, hospitality, generous
love, and deep piety ; taking all this, we repeat, for granted, they
have not since troubled themselves to ask why they continued to
look upon his memory with such affectionate respect. On the other
hand, our historians, who were too philosophic (so called) to regani
such feelings as in themselves of any particular importance, if they
did not even think them decisive against the man who was tbeir
o'oject, never condescended to inquire as to his true character, but were-
content to take their views of him on trust from some such epigram-
matic sounding sentences of the older writers as we have already
traa«cribc<l. And what is the result when they are suddenly
startled with inquiry by an eminent foreigner, Thierry, putting forth
a str.ingely favourable opinion of the political importance of Bobir»
Hood ?— why, that without referring lo a single new or comparatively
inaccessible document, a writer in the Westminster Review for March,
1840 (to whom every lover of Robin Hood owes grateful aeknow-
ledgtiients), has shown that there can be no reaaonable doob* what-
ever that it is the patriot, and not the fieebooier, whom bb country-
men have so long delighted to honour. Of this more praently.

The severity of the old forest laws of England has become a by-
word, and oo wonder, when we know tliat with the Conqueror a

53.— Tents.— From a MS. in Brit. Mus.

454 — Jlagna cli.iria ami Us associations.

443.— Kiiiis Jolm.

116

419.— Queen Elinor,

iUO — ^Villlam Lonsespee, Earl of Salisbiuy.

451.-V.fiiliam Marshall, Earl of Pembro'.;

,.»'"

- --^«E^e»±3-g

4}T.-TlM hjCtuwJU T«w.

463.— Magna CturU UlaiiiL

nil

I I

if 1

t s

%«p?lp

cornici'

Wpdlw^XJ/vmlmf .-^onMtt w Qulujje ? v\lw^

b/FX

10 o«

•MO 0(9«mo.

433.— Speclai3i or Migiu Charta, engrared from one of the orlginil C>pl«« in th« Bntlsh Mowaa. TbepMMSntraapartigaal Mw

Preamble, the Forty-aixth Cbuae, and iht AttuteUon.

""^^^o^

117

118

OLD ENGLAND.

[BookIL

sovereign's paternal care for his subjects was understood to appl)'
to red deer, not to Saxon men ; and that accordingly, of tlie two,
the lives of tiie former alone were esteemed of any particular value.
But it was not the severity merely tliat was, after the Conquest,
introduced (whether into tlie spirit or into the letter of the forest
laws is immaterial), but also the vast extent of fresh land then
afforc-ted, and to which such laws were for the first time applied,
that gave rise to so. much opposition and hatred between the
Norman conquerors and the Saxon forest inhabitants ; and that in
particular parts of England infused sucli continuous vigour into
the struggle commenced at tlie invasion, long after that struggle
had ceased elsewhere. The Conqueror is said to have possessed
is this country no less than sixty-eiglit forests, and these even were
not enougli ; so the afforesting process went on reign after reign,
till tlie awful sliadow of Blagna Charta began to pass more and
more frequently before royal eyes, producing first a check, and
then a retreat: dis-afforesting then began, and the forest laws
gradually underwent a mitigating process. But tlus was the work
of the nobility of England, and occupied the said nobility a long
time first to determine upon, and then to carry out : tlie peoide in
the interim could not afford to wait, but took tiie matter to a
certain extent into their own hands ; free bands roved the woods,
laugliing at the king's laws, and killing and eating his deer, and
living a life of perfect immunity from punishment, partly through
bravery and address, and still more through the impenetrable cha-
racter of the woods that covered a large portion of the whole
country from the Trent to the Tyne. Among the more famous
of the early leaders of such men were Adam Bell, Clym of the
Clough, and "William of Cloudesley (Fig. 479), the heroes of many
a northern ballad. But as time passed on, and Normans and
Saxons gradually amalgamated, and forgot their feuds of race in the
necessity for resisting tlie oppressions of class, such a life would
cease to be honourable ; liberty would become licence — resistance
to government rebellion. Assuredly the memory of Robin Hood
Mould not have been treasured as it was by our forefathers, if,
whilst the country was gradually progressing onwards to peace,
order, and justice, he had merely distinguished himself by the exer-
cise of excellent qualities for a very mischievous purpose. What
was it, then, that justified such a man in establishing an independent
government in the woods, after so much had been done towards the
establishment of a more regular authority, and after the people
generally of England had patiently submitted, and began in earnest
to seek an amelioration of their condition in a legal and peace-
able way ? It was, in a word, the overthrow of the national party
of united Englishmen at the battle of Evesham in 1265, when
Simon de Montfort and a host of other leaders of the people fell ;
when the cause that had experienced so many vicissitudes, and
which had assumed so many different aspects at different times, was
apparently lost for ever ; and when the kingly power, unrestrained
by charters — since there were no longer armed bands to enforce
them — rioted in the degradation and ruin of all who had been
opposed to it. In a parliament called almost immediately after this
event which sat at "Winchester, and consisted of course entirely of
nobles and knights who had been on the victors' side, the estates
of all who had adhered to the late Earl of Leicester (Montfort)
were confiscated at one fell swoop. It is important to mark what
then took place. " Such measures," writes Dr. Lingard, whose
sympathies are all on the royal side, " were not calculated to restore
the public tranquillity. The sufferers, prompted by revenge, or
compelled by want, had again recourse to the sword : the moun-
tains, forests, and morasses furnished them with places of retreat ;
and the flames of predatory warfare were kindled in most parts of
the kingdom. To reduce these partial, but succ&ssive insurrections,
occupied Prince Edward [himself one of the popular party till he
found popular restrictions were to be applied to his reign as well as
his father's] the better part of two years. He first compelled Simon
de Montfort [son of the late earl] and his associates, who had
sought an asylum in the Isle of Axholm, to submit to the award
which should be given by himself and the King of the Romans.
He next led his forces against the men of the Cinque Ports, who had
long been distinguished by their attachment to Leicester, and who
since his fall had by their piracies interrupted the commerce of the
narrow seas, and made prizes of all ships belonging to the king's sub-
jects. The capture of Winchelsea, which was carried by storm, taught
them to respect the authority of the sovereign, and their power by
sea made the prince desirous to recal them to their duty and attach
them to the crown. They swore fealty to Henry ; and in return
obtained a full pardon, and the confirmation of their privileges.
From the Cinque Ports Edward proceeded to Hampshire, which,
with Berkshire and Surrey, was ravaged by numerous banditti,

under the command of Adam Gordon, the most athletic man of the
age. They were surprised in a wood near Alton. 'I'he prince
engaged in single combat with their leader, wounded and unhorsed
him ; and then, in regard of his valour, granted him his pardon.
Still the garrison of Kenilworth [the Montfort family seat] con-
tinued to brave the royal power, and even added contumely to their
disobedience. To subdue these obstinate rebels, it wat, necessary to
summon the chivalry of the kingdom : but the strength of the place
defied all the efforts of the assailants ; and the obstinacy of Hasiinga,
the governor, refused for six mouths every offer which was made to
him in the name of his sovereign." At length it became necessary
to offer something like terms of accommodation ; there was danger
in such long and successful resistance. So it was declared that
estates might be redeemed at certain rates of payment, the highest
being applied to the brave Kenilworth garrison, who were to pay
seven years' value. They submitted at last. Others still held out,
hoping perhaps to see a new national organization, and at all events
determined to refuse submission so long as they could. Such were
the men who maintained their independence for nearly two years in
the Isle of Ely ; above all, such were the men who maintained their
independence for a lifetime in the forest of Sherwood and the adja-
cent woodlands. Forduti, the Scottish historian, who travelled in
England in the fourteenth century diligently collecting materials for
his great work, which forms to this day our only authority for the
facts of Scottish history through a considerable period, states, im-
mediately after his notice of the battle of Evesham, and its conse-
quences to all who had been comiected, on the losing side, with the
general stream of events to which that battle belongs, " Then from
among the dispossessed atid the banished arose that most famous cut-
throat Robert Hood and Little John." If any one rises from the
perusal of the mighty events of the reign of Henry the Third with
the conviction that Simon de Montfort, to whom in all probability
England owes its borough representation, was a rebel instead of a
martyr, as the people called him, and that the words so freely used
by Dr. Lingard, of pirates, banditti, and rebels, were properly ajjplied
to Simon de Montfort's followers, then also they may accept Fordun'.*
opinion that Robin Hood was a cut-tliroat — but not else ; they will
otherwise, like ourselves, accept his fact only, which is one of the
highest importance, and beyond dispute as to its correctness, how-
ever strangely neglected even by brother historians. Fordun's work
was continued and completed by his pupil. Bower, Abbot of St.
Coloinb, who under the year 1 266, noticing the further progress of
the events that followed the battle of Evesham, says, " In this year
were obstinate hostilities carried on between the dispossessed barons
of England and the royalists, amongst whom Roger Mortimer occa-
pied the Marches of Wales, and John Duguil the Isle of Ely.
Robert Hood now lived an outlaw among the woodland copses and
thickets." It is hardly necessary after this to add that the one, and,
there is but one undoubtedly, ancient ballad relating to Robin Hood,
the ' Lvtell Geste,' furnishes an additional corroboration of the most
satisfactory character; it relates, as its title-page informs us, ta
" Kynge Edwarde and Robyn Hode and Lytell Johan." We may
here observe that this ballad, one of the very finest in the language,
which for beauty and dramatic power is worthy of Chaucer him-
self, about whose time it was probably written, had shared Robin
Hood's own fate: that is, enjoyed a great deal of undiscriminating
and, therefore, worthless popularity. It has simply been looked on
as one of the Robin Hood ballads, whilst in fact it stands out as much
from all the others by its merits as by its antiquity, and its internal
evidence of being written by one who understood that on which he
wrote : which is much more than can be said for the ballad-doers of
later centuries, when Friar Tuck and Maid Marian first crept into
the foresters' company, when the gallant yeoman was created without
ceremony Earl of Huntingdon, and his own period put back a century
in order that he and the Lion Heart might hob and nob it together.
Here, then, we see the origin of Robin Hood's forest career ; we see
him — the yeoman — doing what the few leaders of the people, the
knights and barons whom Evesham had spared, everywhere did also,
resisting oppression ; the difl'erence being that they fought as soldiers
with a better soldier, Prince Edward, and failed ; and that he fought
as a forester in the woods he had probably been familiar with from
boyhood, and succeeded. AVithout exaggerating his political mi-
portance, it is not too much to say that but for Edward's wisdom in
conceding substantially, when he became king, what he had shed so
much blood to resist while prince, that little handful of freemen in
Sherwood forest might have become the nucleus of a new organi-
zation, destined once more to shake the isle to its very centre.
Edward prevented this result ; but, nevertheless, they found their
mission. They enabled their leader to become " the representative
and the hero of iicauie far older and deeper evtn than that inThich

ClIA!'. I.J

OLD ENGLAND.

119

De Montfort had so nobly fullen ; we mean tlie jHirmanent protest
of ilie industrious classes of England against tlie galling injuKtice
ami insulting immorality of that frumewoik of English society, and
tliat fabric of ecclesiastical a.s well as civil authority, which the iron
arm of the Coiiqiiot had cilablished. Under a system of general
oppression — based avowedly on tlie right of the strongest — the suf-
fering classes beheld, in a personage like Robert Hood, a sort of
particular Providence, which scattered a few grains of equity amid
all tliat monstrous mass of wrong. And when in his defensive
conflicts, the well-aimed missile entered the breast of some one of
their petty tyrants, though regarded by the ruling powers as an
arrow of malignant fate, it was hailed by the wrung and goaded
people as a shaft of protecting or avenging Heaven. The service
of such a chieftain, too, afforded a sure and tempting refuge for
every Anglo-Saxon serf wlio, strong in heart and in muscle, and
jitung by intolerable insult, had flown in tlie face of his Norman owner
or his owner's bailiff— for every villain who, in defending the decen-
cies of his Iieartli, might have brained some brutal collector of the
poll-tax — for every rustic sportsman who had incurred death or
tiuitilation, tlu; ferocious penalities of tlic Anglo-Nornian forest laws,
by ' taking, killing, and eating deer ' " (Westminster Heview).

The forest of Sherwood, which formerly extended for thirty

miles northnard from Nottingham, skirting the great north road

nn both sides, was anciently divided into Thorney Wood and High

Forest ; and iii one of these nlone, the first and smallest, there were

comprised nineteen towns and villages, Nottingham included.

But this extensive sylvan district formed but a part of llobin

Hood's domains. Sherwood was but one of a scarcely interrupted

series of forests through which the outlaws roved at pleasure,

when change was desired, either for its own sake, or in order to

dec'ine the too pressing attentions of the " Sheriflf," as they called

the royal governor of Nottingham Castle and of the two counties,

Notts and Derby, who had supplanted the old elective officer — the

people's sheriff. Hence we trace their haunts to this day so far in

one direction as " Robin Hood's Chair," Wyn Hill, and his

".Stride" (Fig. 486) in Derbyshire; thence to "I{ol)in Hood's

Bay," on the coast of Yorkshire, in another, with places between

innumerable. But the " woody and famous forest of Bariisdale,"

in Yorkshire, and Sherwood, appear to have been their principal

places of resort ; and what would not one give for a glimpse of the

scene as it then was, with these its famous actors moving abo'it

among it ! There is little or nothing remaining in a sufficiently

wild state to tell us truly of the ancient royal forest of Sherwood.

The clearing process has been carried on extensively during the

last century and a half. Prior to that period the forest was full of

aircient frees — the road from Mansfield to Nottingham presented

one tuibroken succession of green woods. The principal parts now

existing arc the woods of Birkland and Bilhagh, where oaks of the

most giant growth and of the most remote antiquity are still to be

found : oaks against which Robin Hood himself may have leaned,

and which even then may have counted their age by centuries.

Such are the oaks in Welbeck Park (Fig. 480). Many of these

ancient trees are hollow through nearly the whole of their trunks,

but their tops and lateral branches still put forth the tender green

foliage regularly as the springs come round. Side by side with

the monarch oak we find the delicate silver-coated stems and

pendent branches of the lady of the woods ; and beautiful is the

contrast and the harmony. But everything wears a comparatively

cultivated aspect. We miss the prodigal luxuriance of a natural

forest, where every stage upward, from the sapling to the mightiest

growth, may be traced. We miss the picturesque accidents of

nature always to be found in such places — the ash key, for instance,

of wliich Gilpin speaks (Forest Scenery), rooting in a decayed

part of some old tree, germinating, sending down its roots, and

lifting up its branches till at last it rends its supporter and nourisher

to pieces, and appears itself standing in its place, stately ana

beautiful as that once appeared. Above all we miss the rich and

tangled undergrowth ; the climbing honeysuckle, the white and

bl.ick briony, and tlie clematis ; the prickly holly and the golden

furze, the heaths, the thistles, and the foxgloves with their purple

bells ; the bilberries, which for centuries were wont to be an

extraordinarily great profit and pleasure to the poor people who

gathered them (Thornton) ; the elders and willows of many a little

marshy nook ; all w hich, no doubt, once flourished in profusion

wherever they could find room to grow between the thickly set

trees, of which Camden says, referring to Sherwood, that their

" entangled branches were so twisted together, that they hardly

left room for a person to pass." It need excite little surprise that

the outlaws could defend themselves from all inroads upon such a

home The same writer adds, that in his time tlie woods were

much thinner, but still bred an infinite number of deer and ftagv
with lofty atitlcm. When Robin Hood hunted here, there would
be also the roe, the fox, the m:irten, the hare, tbe coney, as «ell a*
the partridge, the qiuil, the rail, the phcaaant, tbe woodcock,
the mallard, and the heron, to furnish sport or fimd. Even tbe
wolf himself may have been occasionally found in Sherwood, down
to the thirteenth century : in the minor of Matufield WoodhouM a
parcel of land calk-d Wolf huntland was held no late a* IlenrY Ihe
Sixth's time by the service of winding a horn to fiighten away' the
wolves in the forest of Sherwood. Wo must odd to thU nide
and imperfect sketch of the scene ma<le for ever memorable
by Robin Hood's presence and achievementj, that in another point
it would s<-em to have been expressly marked out by nature for
such romantic fume. Caverns are found in extraordinary number*
through the forest. Those near Nottingham are suppoted tu have
given name both to the town and county ; the Saxon word .Sno-
dengaham being interpreted to mean the Home of Caverns. There
are similar excavations in the face of a cliff near the lA-ne, we»t of
Nottingham Castle. Above all, there is a cave traditionally con-
nected with the great archer himself. This is a curious hollow
rock in the side of a hill near NewsteatI, known as Bobin Hood'a
Stable, but more likely from its aspect to have been his clia|)el. It
contains several passages and d(x>rway8 cut in the Gothic style, out
of the solid rock ; and there are peculiar little hollows in the wall,
which might have been intended for holy water. Robin Hood's
devotion is attested in a thousand ways by tradition, ballad, and
sober history. Thus the * Lytell Geste' observes: —

A good mnncr tlian bo-i Bobyn

In lonJe where tliat bo were.
Every d.iye or ho would dyii'.

Three meases wolilo be here.

Fordun's illustration of Robin Hood's piety is an exceedingly

interesting anecdote, and one that assuredly would not have found
its way into his work unless from his full conviction of its truth.
" Once upon a time, in Barnsdale, where he was avoiding the wrath '
of the King and the rage of the Prince, while engaged in very
devoutly hearing mass, as he was wont to do, nor would he interrupt
the service for any occasion — one day, I say, while so at mass, it
happened that a certain Viscount [the sheriff or governor, no doubt,
before mentioned], and other officers of the King, who bad often
before molested him, were seeking after him in that most retired
woodland spot wherein he was thus occupied. Those of his men
who first discovered this pursuit, came and entreated him to fly with
all speed ; but this, from reverence for the consecrateti host, which
he was then most devoutly adoring, he absolutely refused to do.
While the rest of his {X'ople were trembling for fear of death, Roliert
alone, confiding in Him whom he fearlessly worshippe<l, with the
very few whom he had then beside him, encountered his enemies,
overcame them with ease, was enriched by their spoils and ransom,
and was thus induced to hold ministers of the church and masses in
greater veneration than ever, as mindful of the common saying,

" ' God licara tlic man that often hears the mass.' "

The life in the forest must indeed have been steeped in joyou.«
excitement. No doubt it had its disadvantages. Winter flaws in
such a scene would not be pleasant. Agues might be apt occasion-
ally to make their appearance. One feels something of a shivering
sensation as we wonder,

• When they did hear

Tho rain and wind beat dark December, how
In that tlieir pinching cave they coald discourse
The freezing hours away.

Yet even the rigours of the season might give new zest to the
general enjoyment of forest life ; we may imagine one of the bana
sinffins: in some such words as those of Amiens ; —

Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And tuno his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Como hither, come hither, come hither :
Here ehaU he tee
No enemy
But uinter and rough tKOiher.

And that very thought would ensure such enemies, when they did
come, a genial and manly reception. But reverse the picture, and
what a world of sunshine, and green leaves, and flickering lights
and shadows break in upon us— excitement in the chace, whether
they follow the deer (Figs. 485 and 487), or were themselves
followed by the sheriflf, through bush and brake, over bog ana
quagnure — of enjoyment in their shooting and wrestling matches

402.— i'lisuu, ttllip. Jylin,

460. — iiDgli&h tibipE, temp. John.

463.— Altar at St. Edmundst-jry.

464.— Room of State, temp. John.

-101.— Oairiages, i$Tt^. John.

i M

■*G5. — Tomb of King Jul n. Worcester.

i^'

KuUa ol RecorUt.

46(J.— Lcotbcru I'uucb.

4C0.— Sl^IppCt

No. IG.

121

122

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book IL

(Fig. 484), in their sword-fights (Fig. 483), and sword-dances
(Fig. 489) ; in their visits to all the rustic wakes and feasts of tlie
neighbourhood, where they would be received as the most welcome
of guests. The variety of the life in the forest must have been
endless. Now the outlaws would be visited by the wandering
minstrels, coming thither to amuse them with old ballads, and to
gather a rich harvest of materials for new ones, that should be list-
ened to with the deepest interest and delight all England through,
not only while the authors recited tliem, but for centuries after the
very names of such authors were forgotten. The legitimate poet-
minstrel would be followed by the humbler gleeman, forming one
of a band of revellers (Fig. 490), in which would be comprised a
taborer, a bagpiper, and dancers or tumblers, and who, tempted by
the well-known liberality of the foresters, would penetrate the thick
wood to find them. And great would be the applause at their
humorous dances and accompanying songs, at their balancings and
tumblings ; wonderful, almost too wonderful to be produced without
the aid of evil spirits, would seem their sleight-of-hand tricks. At
another time there would be suddenly Iieard echoing through the
forest glades the sounds of strange bugles from strange hunters.
Their rich apparel shows them to be of no ordinary rank. How dare
they then intrude upon the forest king? Nay, there is not any
danger. Are there not lady-hunters (Fig. 48 1 ) among the company ?
and what says the ballad, the truth of which every one attests ? —

Kobyu loved one dcre lady.

For douto of dedely synne ;
AVolde lie never do company Larmo

That any woman was ynnc.

So their husbands, brothers, sons, and fathers hunt freely through
Sherwood in their company, safe from the sudden arrow, ay, though
even the hated sheriff himself be among them. But there were
occasions when the forest would present a much more extraordinary
scene than any we have yet referred to. For scores of miles around,
what preparations are there not made when tiie words " Robin Hood's
Fair" spread from mouth to mouth, and the time and place of it
being held become known ! Thither would resort all the yeomen
and yeomen's wives of the district, eacli one hoping to get a " Robin
Hood's pennyworth," as the well-understood phrase went, in some
courtepy or hood, in handkerchiefs telling their goodness by
their weight, in hats, boots or shoes, the spoil of some recent cam-
paign, and bespeaking their general excellence from the known
quality of their recent owners. Thither would resort the emissaries
of more than one priory and respectable monastery, to look after
some richly-illuminated Missal or MS. that they had heard were
among the good things of the fair, or to execute the High Cellarer's
commission to purchase any rare spices that might be offered.
Knightly messengers too would not be wanting, coming tliither to
look after choice weapons, or trinkets, or weighty chains of gold :
perhaps even the very men who had been despoiled, and whose
treasures had contributed so largely to the " fair," would be send-
ing to it, to purchase silently back some favourite token at a triflin^'-
price, hopeless of regaining it by any other mode. Of course the
Jews would flock to Sherwood on such occasions from any and all
distances. And as the fair proceeded, if any quarrels took place
between the buyers and sellers, a Jew would be lure to be concerned.
Even whilst he laughed in his heart at the absurd price he was to
give for the ricli satin vest, or the piece of cloth of gold of such
rare beauty that the forester was measuring witli his lono- bow
generally of his own height, for a yard, and even tlien skipping
two or tiiree inches between each admeasurement, the Jew would
be sure to be haggling to lower the price or to be increasing the
quantity ; till reminded that he was not dealing with the most patient
aj well as with the most liberal of men, by a diflierent application
of the tough yew. Then the adventures of the forest ! — indifenous
and luxuriant as its bilberries; how they give a seasoning- as it
were, to the general conjunction of life in tlie forest, and prevented
the possibility of its ever being felt as " weary, stale, flat, and un-
profitable !" Were recruits wanted ?— there was a pretty openino-
for adventure in seeking them. They must be men of mark 0°
likelihood who can alone be enlisted into brave Robin's batid and
severe accordingly were the tests applied. In order to prove their
courage, for instance, it seems from the later ballads, it was quite
indispensable that they should have the best of it with some veteran
forester, either in shooting with the bow, or playfully breaking a
crown with the quarter-staff, or even by occasionally beatino- their
antagonists when contending with inadequate weapons.

Robin Hood himself should appear from tliese authorities to have
been almost as famous for his defeats, as other heroes for their
Tictories. We suspect that what little portion of truth there is in

the tradition thus incorporated into tho ballads, may be explained
by imagining a little ruse on his part in these recruiting expedi-
tions. When he met with some gallant dare-devil whom he de-
sired to include among his troops, what belter method could lie
devise than to appear to be beaten by him after a downright good
struggle ? He to beat Robin Hood ! It was certainly the most
exquisite and irresistible of compliments. The promise of a sergeant
in later days to make the gaping rustic commander-in-chief was
nothing to it. But suppose we now look at two or three of tiie
more interesting adventures which are recorded in the ' Lytell
Geste ' as having actually taken place, and which, be it observed,
may possibly be as true, bating a little here and there for the
poetical luxuriance of the author, as if Fordun had related them :
ballads in the early ages were histories. In one part of this poem
we find a story of the most interesting character, and told with
extraordinary spirit, discrimination of character, and dramatic effect.
Whilst Little John, Scathelock (the Scarlet of a later time), and
Much the Miller's son, were one day watching in tiie forest, they
beheld a knight riding along : —

All dreari then was hia semhlaunte.

And lytoU was his pride ;
llys one fote in the steropo strode.

The other waved besyde.

Hys hodo hangyuge over hys eyen two.

He rode in symplo aray ;
A soryer man than lie was one

Kodo never in somers day.

The outlaws courteously accost and surprise him witli the informa-
tion that their master has been waiting for him, fasting three hours ;
Robin Hood, it appears, having an objection to sit down to dinner
till he can satisfy himself he has earned it, by finding strangers to
sit down with him— and pay the bill. Having "washed," they
dine : —

15rcde and wyne they had ynougli.
And nombles [entrails] of tho deer ;

Sivamies and fesauntes they had full good,
And foules of the revere :

Xliere fayled never so lytell a byrdo
That ever was bred on brero.

After dinner the Knight thanks his host for his entertainment, but
Robin hints that thanks are not enough. The Knight replies that he
has nothing in his coflTers that lie can for shame offer— that, in short,
his whole stock consists of ten shillings. Upon this Robin bids
Little John examine the coffers to see if the statement be true (a
favourite mode wiih Robin of judging of the character of his
visitors), and informs the Knight at the same time that if he really
have no more, more he will lend him.

" What tydynge, Johan ?"— sayed Eobyn :
" Syr, tho Knyght is trewe enough."

The great outlaw is now evidently interested ; and, with mingled
delicacy and frankness, inquires as to the cause of the Knight's low
estate, fearing that it implies some wrong doing on his part. I(
comes out at last that his son has killed a " Knyght of Lancastshyre "
in the tournament, and that, to defend him « in his right," lie has
sold all his own goods, and pledged his lands unto the Abbot of St.
Mary's, York ; the day is now nearly arrived, and he is not merely
unable to redeem them before too late, but well nigh penniless into
tlie bargain. We need hardly solicit attention to the mingled pathos
and beauty of what follows : —

" Wliat is the somme ?" sayd Itobyn ;

" Trouthe then tell thou me.'"
" Syr," ho sayd, " fouro hondred pouuue.

The Abbot toldo it to me."

" Xow, and thou lose thy londe," eayd Eobyn,

"What shall fall of the?"
" Uastely I wyll me buske," saydo the Kiiyght,

" Over tho salt see ;

" And se where Cryat was quycko and deed

On tho mount of Calvari.
Farewell, frende, ar.d have good day,

It may noo better be "

Tears fell out of his eyen two.

He wolde have gone his waye —
' Fiirewell, frenJcs, and have good day ;

I lie have more to pay."

Cuxp. I.J

OLD ENGLAND

1S8

"Wioro be thy frcndcs?" saydo Bobyti.

" Syr, never ono wyll mo know ;
Wliylo I wtia ryclio onow at home,

Oroto bunt then woldo tlicy blc jro.

" And now they ronno awnyo fro mo,

As bostoi on a rowo ;
'i'bcy toko no mora becd of mo

Then they mo never Bawc."

For nitho then wcpte liytell Johiin,

Scatlieloclto luid Much in fere [in company] ;
" Fyll of the best wync," sayd Ilobyn,
" For huro is a symplo chero."

Refore many hours the Knigiit was pursuing liis way wiilt a full
pocket and a full heart to redewn his lands. We must follow him
to York. The day of payment has arrived. The chief officers of
tlie Abbey are in a state of high excitement, on account of the value
of the estates that will be theirs at nigiitfall if the Knight comes
not witii the reilemption money. The Abbot cannot repress his
anticipations : —

" But lio come this ylko day,
Dyahoryto shall ho bo."

The Prior endeavours to befriend the absent Knight, but is answered
impatiently —

" Thou art cucr in my borde," saydo the Abbot,
" By Otixl and Saynt Richarde.'

And then bursts in a " fat-headed monk," the High Cellarer, with
the exulting exclamation —

" He is dide or banged," sayd tlio monko,

" By Ood that bought mo dero ;
And 1V0 slinll liavo to spcnde in tliis place

Fouro liondred pouudo by yere."

To make all sure, the Abbot has managed to have the assist-
ance of the High Justicer of England on the occasion by the usual
mode of persuasion, a bribe : and is just beginning to receive his
jongratulations when the Knight arrives at the gate. But he
iip|)ears in " symple wefies," and the alarm raised by his appearance
soon subsides as he speaks : —

" Do gladly, Syr Abbot," sayd the Knygbt ;

" I am come to holde my day."
The lyrst word the Abbot spokp, —

"Hast thou brought my pay ?"

" Not one pony," sayde the Knyglit,

" liy God tint maked me."
" Tliou art a shrowcd dettour," sayd the Abbot ;

"Syr Juettjce, dnpihe to me."

Tlie Knight tries to move his pily, but in vain ; and after some
further passages between him and the Abbot, conceived and ex-
pressed in the finest dramatic spirit, the truth comes out in answer
to a proposition from the Justice that the Abbot sliall give two
hundred pounds more to keep the land in peace ; the Knight then
suddenly astounds the whole party by producing the four hundred
piimids.

" Have here thy golde, Syr Abbot," sayd the Knyglif,
" Wliicli tliat thou loiitcEt me ;
Haddcst thou ben curtcys at my comynge,
Rewarde slioldcst tliou have bo."

Tlie Abbot sat styll, and etc no more

For all his ryall [royal] clicre ;
He cast his hcdo on hia shoUlor,

And fast began to stare.

" Take [give] mo my golde agaync," sayd the Abbot,

" Syr Juslyce, that I toke the."
" Not a peny," sayd tho Justj'ce,

" By God that dyed on a tree."

A twelvemonth afterwards, and on the very day that the Knight
has fixed for repaying Robin Hood, a magnificent procession of
ecclesiastics and ecclesiastical retainers is passing through the
forest ; and being stopped by the outlaws, who should be at the
head of the whole but our friend tiie fat-headed monk, the High
Cellarer of St. Mary, York ! Now Robin Hood's security, the only
one that he would fake from the Knight, had been that of the
Virgin— what more natural than that he should think the High
Cellarer of the Virgin's own house at York had come to pay him his
four hundred pounds ! It is in vain the holy man denies that he

has come for any such purpow. At but, driven to bb shifU, be

ventures a lie when the actual state of his coflTen is inquired iato.
His return, in official language, i* twenty marks. Rubin is very
nasoimblc, and says, if there really be no more, not a ffinj "f it
will be meddled with.

I.ylell Jithon sprcd his inaDlcll ilowue

As ho tiad done before.
Anil ho toldo out of the mookcs male

Kyght huiidroth ponnde and mofo.

No wonder that Robin exclaims —

Monk, what told I thee ?
Onr Lruiy is tho trcwcat woman
Tliat ever yet foonde I mo.

All this is told with a more exquisite humonr than our owr.
p^irtial extracts can do justice to. Anon a second, and to archer
'.yes still more attractive pageant, appears. It ia the good and
grateful Knight at the head of a hundred men clothed in whit<; and
red, and bearing as a present to the fore>ters a hundred bow> of a
quality to delight even such connoisseurs in the weapon, with a
hundred sheaves of arrows, with heads burnished full bright, every
arrow an ell long, y-dight with peacock plumes, and y-nocked with
silver. The Knight had been detained on his way ; the sun was
down ; the hour of payment had passed when he orrivMl at the
tr}>ting-tree. His excuse was soon made to the generous outlaw.
He iiad stayed to help a poor yeoman who was suffering oppression.
The debt was forgiven ; the monks had paid it doubly.

The ballads of Robin Hoo<l which, century after century, followed
tiie ' Lylell Gesie ' are, at any rate, evidences of the di-ep hold
which this story of wild adventure, and of the justice of the strong
hand, long retained upon the popular mind. We have already men-
tioned how unequal these later productions arc to that ancient ballad
which professes to tell the doings of 'K)nge lulwarde and Robin
Ilude and Lytell Johan.' Many of these l>allads were reprinted by
a scrupulous antiquary, Rit-oii ; and most of them are to be found
in some collection with which the lovers of early poetry are familiar.
A very neat abridgment of some of the more striking of these
stories was published in ' The Penny Magazine,' in a series of papers
w'-itten by the late Mt. Allan Cunningham. To these source* wc
may refer our readers. But as the ballad poetry of a country is
amongst the most curious of its records — as the ballads of ' Old
England,' even though they may have been written in the reign of
I'^lizabeth, or even later, reflect the traditions of the people, and in
many cases are founded upon more ancient compositions tliat lave
perished, — we shall, in each period into which our work is divided,
present one or two ballads entire, without any very exact regard to
the date of their publication, provide*! tiiey bear upon the events
and manners of the age of which we arc treating.

The first ballad which we select for this purpose is from a collec-
tion printed in 1G07, called ' Strange Histories, or Songes and
Sonets, of Kings, Princes, Dukes, Lordes, Ladyes, Knights, and
Gentlemen ; very pleasant either to be read or range, and a moat
excellent warning for all estates.' Of this curious book there are
only two original copies known to be in existence ; but it lias been
recently reprinted by the Percy Society. The principal author of
these poems is held to have been Thomas Deloney, who acquired
great popularity by his books for the people in the end of the six-
teenth century, and is spoken of by a contemporary as " the ballad-
ing silk-weaver." The subject of the ballad which we now print
is an interesting event connected with the Norman conquest. We
modernize the orthograpliy, for there is no advantage in retaining
the antique mo<le3 of spelling when they have no reference to the
date of a production, or to the peculiarities of its metre. The
' Lytell Geste' could not be thus modeniized with the same pro-
priety.

STRANGE HISTORIES.

Tlte Vali'aut Courage and FuVaj of the KeiUltkmen leiih Txmg TaiU, mierxbf
they kept their Aucieitt TMin and Ctufomt, tchieh WiUiam (Ac ConquTiir
sought to take from them,

Wicn as the Duke of Xomiandy,

With glistering spear and sliiolil.
Had cntcrad into fair Englaiul,

And foil'd his foes in field.
On Cluistnias Day in solemn sort.

Then was he crowneil hero
By AIIxTt, Archbishop of Yoik,

With many a noble Peer,

It 2

479.— Willlan; of C"l. iideslie .,iid In Vamlly In Eiigli'wood forest

■13i. -Sivord-nght, (RoyalMS. ec E. ft;

484.— ■WresUing (Royal MS. 2 B. vli.-;

Duke's Walklng-sUck.

480.— 0*^ In Welbeck FUk.

J2o

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book. U

Which being dono, lie cliangcd quite

The custom of thia land.
And puuish'd Buch as daily sought

His statutes to withstand :
And many cities he subdued.

Fair London with the rest ;
But Kent did still withstand liis forcP,

Whicli did his laws detest.

To Dover then ho took his way

The Castle down to fling,
Wliicli Arviragus builded there,

Tho noble Briton Iving.
Which when tho brave Archbishop bold

Of Canterbury knew.
The Abbot of St. Austin's eke,

Witli all their gallant crew.

They set themselves in armour bright

These mischiefs to prevent,
With all tho yeomen brave and bold

Tliiit were in fruitful Kent.
A t Cautoibury they did meet

Upon a certain day,
Witli sword and spear, with bill and bow.

And stopp'd the Conqueror's way.

" l,ot us not live like bondmen poor

To Frenchmen in their pride.
But keep our ancient liberty.

What chance soe'er betide ;
A Till rather die in bloody field.

In manlike courage press'd,
Tiian to endure the servile yoke

Which we so much detest."

Tims did tho Kentish commons cry

Unto their leaders still.
And so march'd forth in warlike sort.

And stand on Swanscombe Hill ;
Wliero in the woods they hid themselves

Under the shady green,
Thereby to get them vantage good

Of all their foes unseen.

And for the Conqueror's coming tliero

They privily laid wait.
And tliereby suddenly appalld

His lofty high conceit :
For when they spied his approach,

In place as they did stand.
Then march'd they to hem him in,

Kacli one a bougli in hand.

So that unto the Conqueror's sight.

Amazed as he stood,
Tliey seemed to be a walking grove.

Or else a moving wood.
The shape of men ho could not see,

The boughs did hide them so ;
And now his heart for fear did quake

To see a forest go.

Before, behind, and on each side,

As lie did cast his eye.
He spied these woods with sober pace

Approach to him fuU nigh.
But when the Kentishmen had thus

Euclos'd the Conqueror round,
Slost suddenly tlioy drew tlieir sworrjs.

And threw the boughs to gronnil.

Tiieir banners they displayed in sight.

Their trumpets sound a charge ;
'I'heir rattling drums strike up alarm.

Their troops stretch out at largo.
Tho Conqueror with all his train

Were hercat sore aghast.
And most in peril when lie tliouglit

All peril had been past.

ITiito the Kentishmeu he sent

Tlic cause to understand.
For what intent and for what cause

They took this war in hand ?
To whom they made this short reply :

"For liberty we fight,
And to enjoy King Edward's laws.

The which we hold our right"

" Then," said the dreadful Conqueror,

" You shall have what you will.
Your auoiont customs and your law.

So that you will be still ;
And each thing else that you will crave

With reason at my hand.
So you will but acknowledge mo

Chief king of fair England."

Tlie Kentishmen agreed hereon,

And laid their arms aside,
And by this means King Edward's laws

In Kent doth still abide :
And in no place in England elso

Those customs do remain,
Wlfieh they by manly policy

Did of Duke AVilliam praiii.

In tlie possession of Dr. Percy, the accomplislied editor of
' Eeliques of Ancient English Poetry,' was an ancient ballad entitled
' King John and the Bishop of Canterbury.' The following versioii-
of this ballad, in which are some lines found in the more ancient
copy, is supposed to have been written or adapted in the time oi
James I, : —

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTEEBUKY,

An ancient story I'll tell you anon.
Of a notable prince that was called King John ;
And he ruled England with main and with might —
For ho did great wrong, and maintained little right

And I'll tell you a story — a story so merry —
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury :
How for his housekeeping, and high renown.
They rode post for him to fair London town.

An hundred men the King did hear say.
The Abbot kept in his house every day ;
And fifty gold chains, without any doubt.
In velvet coats waited the Abbot about.

How now ! Father Abbot, I hear it of thee,
Thou keepest a far better house than me :
And for thy housekeeping, and high renown,
I fear thou work'st treason against my crown.

My Liege, quoth the Abbot, I would it were known,
I never spend nothing but what is my own :
And I trust your Grace will do me no deere,
For spending my own true-gotten gear.

Yes, yes, — quoth he, — ^Abbot, thy fault it is high,
And now for the same thou ncedcst must die ;
For except thou canst answer me questions three.
Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.

And first, — quo' the King, — when I'm in this stead
With my crown of gold so fair on my head.
Among all my liegemen so noble of birth.
Thou must tell me, to one penny, what I am worl U

Secondly, tell me, without any doubt,
How soon I may ride the whole world about ;
And at the third question thou must not shrink.
But tell me here truly, what I do think.

O, these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
Xor I cannot answer your Grace as yet ;
But if you will give ine but three weeks' 8pac<»
I'll do my endeavour to answer your Grace.

Now three weeks' space to thee I will give.
And that is the longest time thou hast to live ;
For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
'J'hy lands and thy linngs are forfeit to me.

Away rode the Abbot, all sad at that word.
And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford ;
But never a Doctor there was so wise.
That could, with his learning, an answer devise.

Then home rode the Abbot, of comfort so cold.
And he met his shepherd a-going to fold ;
How now 1 my Lord Abbot, you are welcome home
Wiat news do you bring us from good King John ?

C'UAP. I.]

OLD ENGLAND.

127

Bad nows, sod nows, sbophoid. I must c\ye,—
That I linvo but thruo dayv muro to liru :
For if I do not aimwor him qucatioiid thrvo,
My hood will bo smittun from my body.

Tho flrril id, to toll liim, there in thut atond,
Willi liid crown of gold so fiiir on hiu lii;ad.
Am .ng all hia liup^umon so noble of birtli.
To within one ponny uf what bo is worth.

The second, to toll him, without ony donbl.
How soon lio may rido this whole worlil ulxiut ;
And at tho thini qucdtion I must not shrink,
lint tell him tliuro truly what he does think.

Now cliocr up. Sir Abbot— did you never hear yd.
That a fool ho may loam a wise man wit?
liOnd mo horso, and sirving-mun, and your apjuirrl.
And I'll rido to Loudon, to answer your quarrel.

Nay, froft-n not, if it hath been told unto iiic,
I am like your Lordship as ever may be ;
And if you will but lend mo your Rown,
There is none shall know us at fair London tu-.vn.

Now horses and serving-men thou shalt hove,
With sumptuous array, most gallant and bravo,—
With crosier and m'tro, and rochet and cope,--
Fit to appear 'foro our fatlicr the Pope.

Now welcome. Sir Abbot, tho King he did say,
'Tis well thou'rt como back to keep thy day :
For, and if thou canal answer my questions lliri'O
Thy life and lliy living both saved shall lie.

And first, when tliou sccst me here in this stead.
With my crown of gold so fair on my head.

Amou2 all mjr Uogenwn lo noblo sf birth,
T»U m«^ to ons penny, wlutt I am wortt.

Fur thirty pence Onr Sevloor •«■ told
Among tlio taite Jowa, lu 1 lure btfen told.
And twenty-nino U Uie worth of thoe,
I'ur I think tboa vt ooo ponny wocwr than It*.

The King lie Uoglied. and nrore by (St. BitUl.
I did nut think I luul boon worth lu little :
Now, aeooudly, tell me, without any doubt.
Ilow aoon I may ride thia whole world about.

You muat riae with the ann, and ridu with the ■uim.
Until the next morning be riaeth again.
And then your Otmee need nut make any doubt
Uut in twonty-fuur bonn you will ride it abooL

Tho King lie laughed, and awore by St Jonc,
I did not think it could bo done iO aoon :
Now fh>m the tirird qucition thon muat not ahriuk.
Uut tell mo here truly what I do think.

Yea, tluit sliall I do and make your Grace merry—
Yon think Tm Iht Abbot of Canterbury ;
But I'm hia poor ahopherd, aa plain you may aoc.
That am come to beg pardon for him and for mu.

The King he laughed, and swore by the moaa,
I will make thee Lord Abbot thia day in his place
Now stay, my liege, bo not in such apcc<i.
Fur alack ! I can neither write nor rend.

Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee.
For this merry jest thou hast shown unto mo ;
And tell the old Ablrat when thon comest home.
Thou hast brought him a pardon from good Kiug John.

Robin U jiM's Well, DC« DoncutA

U.*-^^W.v.i^S^;i4

485.— Kobin Hood and L ttle John.

i86.— Robin Hood's Stride, or Mock Beggar's Hall, near BurdioveiiluYoulgraTe,.'

489.— Sword Dance. (Royal MS. 14 E. iii.j

490.- Country Revel. (Rioal MS. 2 B. 1.)

48?.— The Parliament Oak In Clipstone Park.

48».— " Will Scarlet, he did kill a buck.'

128

<»1.-Jt.<.'artlni»l«n.

482.— A UeouUctli (

ttt^.XCMtrdto.

-Ib^cr, tiishop of Sarum, 12?S.
Salisbury Cathcdrj!.

i9J .•»Co6tume of an EiisUsb Mitred Abbot.;

',•- •■v.»-v«.

199.— Cos;

i—Oattttit crriy A^boU of Wect-
wtiMler.— CloiiKTs, WestmlOTter.

4 V— ViJr«<r. \ -S^ of I>l»f.

(•thf]r»:.

i9».-Vialon of Heniy 1. 1 <ui mcLnt drawing, stowing tte Cottume of Iht Cktpr-

No. 17.

iej.— Odi, Eahtp of Bwnx,
Futon: Blaiiiis.

J2S

130

OLD ENGLAND.

I Book II

CHAPTER II.— ECCLESIASTICAL ANTIQUITIES

HE first century of the Nor-
man rule ill England has left
behind it more durable monu-
ments of the earnest devotion
of the mixed races of the
country than any subsequent
period of our history. The
ecclesiastical distribution of
England was scarcely altered
from the time of Henry I. to
that of Henry VIII. The
Conqueror found tlie arch-
bishoprics of Canterbury and
York established, as well as
the following bishoprics: — Durham, London, "Winchester, Ro-
chester, Chichester, Salisbury, Exeter, Wells, Worcester, Hereford,
Coventry, Lincoln, Thetford, Norwich became the see of the
bishop of Thetford in 1088. The see of Ely was founded in 1109,
and that of Carlisle in 1133. The governing power of the church
thus remained for four centuries, till Henry VIII., in 1541,
founded the sees of Bristol, Gloucester, Oxford, Peterborough, and
Chester, portions of the older dioceses being taken to form the see
of each new bishop. The Eev. Joseph Hunter, in his excellent
' Introduction to the Valor Ecclesiasticus of King Henry VIII.,'
says, '• It is indeed a just subject of wonder tliat in the first century
after tlie Conquest so many thousand of parish churches should
have been erected, as if by simultaneous effort, in every part of the
land, while at the same time spacious and magnificent edifices were
arising in every diocese to be the seats of the bishops and arch-
bishops, or the scenes of the perpetual services of the inhabitants
of the cloister. Saxon piety had done much, perhaps more than
we can collect from the pages of Domesday : but it is rather to the
Normans than to the Saxons that we are to attribute the great mul-
titude of parish churches existing at so remote an era ; and a truly
wise and benevolent exertion of Christian piety the erection of
them must be regarded." To describe, with anything like minute-
ness of detail, any large proportion of these ecclesiastical antiquities,
would carry us far beyond the proper object of this work ; but we
shall endeavour in this chapter, and in those of subsequent periods,
to present to our readers some of the more remarkable of these
interesting objects, whether we regard their beauty and magnifi-
cence, or the circumstances connected with their foundation and
history. Our series of cathedrals will, however, be complete.
Mr. Hunter, speaking of the historical uses of the ' Valor Eccle-
siasticus ' (which has been printed in six large folio /olumes, under
the direction of the Record Commissioners), says, that in this
record " We at once see not only the ancient extent and amount of
that provision which was made by the piety of the English nation
for the spiritual edification of the people by the erection of churches
and chapels for the decent performance of tte simple and touching
ordinances of the Christian religion, but how large a proportion
had been saved from private appropriation of the produce of the
soil, and liow much had subsequently been given to foi'm a public
fund, accessible to all, out of which might be supported an order of
cultivated and more enlightened men dispersed through society,
and by means of which blessings incalculable might be spread
amongst the whole community. If there were spots or extrava-
gancies, yet on the whole it is a pleasing as well as a splendid
spectacle, especially if we look with minute observation into any
portion of the Record, and compare it with a map which shows the
distribution of population in those times over the island, and then
observe how religion had pursued man even to his remotest abodes,
and was present among the most rugg'ed dwellers in the hills and
wilderness of the land, softening and humanizing their hearts.

But the Record does not stop here. It presents us with

K view of those most gorgeous establishments where the service of
the Most High was conducted in the magnificent structures which
?lill pxist amongst us, witii a great array of priests, and all the

pomp of which acts of devotion admit ; and of the abbeys and otiier
monasteries, now but ruined edifices, where resided the sons and
daughters of an austerer piety, and where the services were scarcely
ever suspended."

Who can turn over such a record as this, or dwell upon the
miimter descriptions of our country histories, without feeling there
was a spirit at work in those ages which is now comparatively cold
and lifeless ? AVho can lift up his eyes to the pinnacles and towers,
or stand beneath the vaulted roof of any one of the noble cathedrals
and minsters that were chiefly raised up during this early period —
who can rest, even for a brief hour, amidst the solitude of some
ruined abbey, as affecting in its decay as it was imposing in its
splendour — who even can look upon the ponderous columns, the
quaint carvings not without their symbolical meanings, the solidity
which proclaims that those who thus built knew that the principle
through which they built must endure — who can look upon such
things without feeling that there was something higher and purer
working in the general mind of the people than that which has pro-
duced the hideous painted and whitewashed parallelograms that we
have raised up and called churches in these our days ? We shall
not get better things by the mere copying of the antique models by
line and compass. When the spirit which created our early eccle-
siastical architecture has once more penetrated into the hearts of
the people ; when it shall be held, even upon principles of utility,
that man's cravings after the eternal and tlie infinite are to be as
much provided and cared for as his demands for food and raiment ;
then the tendencies of society will not be wholly exhibited in the
perfection of mechanical contrivance, in rapidity of communication,
in never-ceasing excitements to toil without enjoyment. When the
double nature of man is understood and cared for, we may again
raise up monuments of piety which those who conie five hundred
years after us will preserve in a better spirit than we have kept up
many of tiiose monuments wliich were left to us by tiiose who did
not build solely for their own little day.

In entering upon the large subject of our ecclesiastical antiquities,
we have found it almost impossible to attempt any systematic
division. Our architecture from the period of the Conquest is
generally divided into Anglo-Norman, Early English, Decorative,
and Perpendicular. We shall endeavour, as far as we can, to make
our chronological arrangement suit these broad distinctions. But
as there is scarcely an important building remaining that does not
exhibit more than one of these characteristics, and as we caiuiot
return again and again to the same building, we must be content to
classify them according to their main characteristics. For example,
Canterbury, and Lincoln, and Durham have portions of the earlier
styles still remaining in them, and these naturally find a place in the
present Book ; but our engravings and descriptions must necessarily
include the other styles with wliich these edifices abound. A little
familiarity with the general principles of ecclesiastical architecture
will soon enable the reader to mark what belongs to one period and
what to another ; and, without going into professional technicalities,
we shall incidentally endeavour to assist those who really desire to
study the subject. Looking in the same way, not to the date of
the foundation, but to the main characteristics of the existing edifice,
we shall be enabled to disperse our ecclesiastical materials through
some of the subsequent periods into wliich our little work is divided,
not attempting great precision, but something like chronological
order. For example, we know that the present Westminster Abbey
was not built till the time of Henry the Third, and we therefore
postpone our notice of Westminster Abbey, although it was founded
by Edward the Confessor, to the period w hich succeeds the reign of
John. Other buildings, such as Salisbury Cathedral, St. George's
Chapel at Windsor, and King's College Chapel at Cambridge, being
the work of one age, and probably of one architect, do not involve
the same chronological difficulties that a cathedral presents wliich
has been raised up by the munificence of bishop after bishop, the
choir being the work of one age, the nave of another, the transepts
of another, each age endeavouring at some higher perfectian. If we

DtlAP. II.1

OLD ENGLAND

131

are sometimes betrayed into anachronisms, those who have studied
this large subject scientificiilly will, we trust, yield us their excuse.

The noblest ecclesiastical edifices which still remain to us, as well
as the ruins which are spread tiiroughout the land, were connected
with the establishments of those who lived under the monastic rule.
This will be incidentally seen, whether we describe a cathedral, with
all its present establishment of bishop, dean, and chapter, or a ruined
abbey, whose ivy-covered columns lie broken on the floor, where
worshippers have knelt, generation after generation, dreaming not
that in a few centuries the bat and the owl would usurp their places.
We shall proceal at once to one of the most ancient and splendid
of these forsaken places — Glastonbury. We shall not here enter
upon any minute description of the engravings numbered 491 to
511, which precede the view of that celebrated abbey. Those
engravings represent the costume of the monastic orders of that
early period, as well as some specimens of the more ancient fonts and
other matters connected with the offices of the church. We shall
have to refer to these more particularly as we proceed.

Glastonbury is one of those few remaining towns in England
which seem to preserve, in spite of decay and innovation, a kind of
grateful evidence of the people and the institutions from whence
tlieir former importance was derived. No one can pass through its
streets without having strongly impressed upon his mind tlie
recollections of the famous monastery of Glastonbury, or without
seeing how magnificent an establishment must have been planted
here, when the very roots, centuries after its destruction, still arrest
the attention at every step by their magnitude and apparently almost
indestructible character. We have hardly left behind us the marshy
flats that surround and nearly insulate the town (whence the old
British name of the Glassy Island), and ascended the eminence upon
which it stands, before we perceive that almost every other building
has been either constructed, in modern times, out of stone, quarried
from some architectural ruins, or is in itself a direct remain of the
foundation from whence the plunder has been derived ; in other
words, some dependency of the monastery. The George Inn is not
only one of these, but preserves its old character ; it was, from the
earliest times, a house of accommodation for the pilgrims and others
visiting Glastonbury, As we advance we arrive at a quadrangle
formed by four of the streets, and from which others pass off; in that
quadrangle stand the chief remains of what was once the most magni-
ficent monastic structure perhaps in the three countries. They consi;«t
of some fragments of the church, and of two other structures tolerably
entire, the kitchen, and the chapel of St. .Joseph (Fig. 512). The
style of the church belongs to the transition period of the twelfth
centur)-, and is of a pure and simple cliaracter. The kitchen is a
very curious example of domestic architecture, of comparatively
recent date; the following story is told of its origin : — Henry VIII.
one day said to the abbot, who had offended him, but professedly
in reproof of the sensual indulgences which he appeared to believe
disgraced the monastery, that he would burn the kitchen ; upon
which the abbot haughtily replied that he would build such a
kitchen that not all the wood in the royal forest should be suf-
ficient to carry the threat into execution ; forthwith he built the
existing structure. The chapel is a truly remarkable place on
many accounts. It presents essentially the same architectural cha-
racteristics as the church, but is much more highly enriched. It
stands at the west end of the church, with which it communicates
by an ante-chapel, the wliole measuring in length not less than one
hundred and ten feet, by twenty -five feet in breadth. But interest-
ing as tlie chapel and all the other monastic remains stretching so
far around (some sixty acres in all were included within the esta-
blishment) must be to every one, it cannot be these alone, or aught
that we may infer from them, that gives to Glastonbury its absorb-
.ng interest. Strip the locality of every tradition in which real
facts have but assumed the harmonious coverings of the imagina-
tion, or in which pure fictions have but still made everlasting a fact
of their own, that sueh and such things were believed at some re-
mote time, and are therefore scarcely less worthy of record, — strip
Glastonbury of all these, and enough remains behind to render it
impossible that it can ever be looked upon without the deepest feel-
in23 of gratitude and reverence. Before we look at the soberer
facts, suppose we let Tradition lead us at her own "sweet will,"
whithersoever she pleases. We are, then, moving onwards towards
a small eminence, about half a mile to the north-west, noticing on
our way the numerous apple-trees scattered about, with their swell-
ing pink buds suggesting the loveliness of the coming bloom ; these
trees, Tradition tells us, gave to the isle one of its old and most
poe'ical names, Avalon, from tlie Saxon Avale, an apple. But we

have r.-ach»J the emincnc* in quMtioa, and ar« looking about ua
with keen curiosity, to learn, if wo can, from th« very a«|>oct of tiia
place, the origin of iU curious designation— Weary-all Hill. Here,
Tradition infomu us, was the spot where the fir»t 'jringer of glad
tidings to the British heathen, Jcw^ph of Arimathn^ sent by Philip
the apostle of Gaul on that high mission, rerted on hia inUud way
from the seashore where he liad landed, and, striking his staff into
the ground, detennined to found in (he vicinity the fim British
temple for tJie Christian worship. Hence the name axkting to this
day of Weary-all-IIill, and hence that peculiar specica of thorn.
which, springing from St. Joseph's budding staff, tells to a poetical
belief the story of its origin, and the period of the year »hen Joaepli
arrived, in iU winter or very early spring flowers (Fig. 614). The
spot Itself was no doubt thought too small to rear such a structure
uiwn as was desirable, and therefore the little band of miM!ona.-iee
moved half a mile farther, and there commenced their labours in
founding a Christian edifice for the native worshippers, who speedily
flocked around them. In that early building St. Joseph hlmselfi
continues our authority, Tradition, was buried on hlsdeceaae; and
when, in the lapse of ages, the new faith had become prospeioos
and magnificent in all its outward appliances, and a new church
was erected more in harmony with the tastes, skill, and wants of the
age, the site of that primeval building, and the place of Joseph's
burial, were still reverentially preser^-ed by the erection over them
of a chapel dedicated to the saint's memory. And this is the chapel
of St. Joseph, within whose walls we may still wander and commune
wit!) our own thoughts, on the importance of the truths which from
hence gradually extended their all-pervading Influence through the

length and breadth of the land. But are these traditions true?

We answer, that in their essence, we have no doubt they arc strictly
so. Weary-all-Hill may never have been trodden by Joseph of
Arimathea's steps ; the staff certainly never budded into the goodly
hawthorns that so long were the glory of the neighbourhood ; btt
in the subsequent history of Glastonbury, we find ample corrobora-
tive evidence to show that there was some especial distinction enjoyed
by the monastery, and that that distinction was the fact so poetically
enshrined In the popular heart, of its having been the place where
the sublime story of the Cross, and Its Immeasurable consequences,
were first taught among us. Thus, In the most ancient charters
of the monastery, we find the very significant designation assigned
to it — " The fountain and origin of all religion in the realm of
Britain :" thus, we find, through the earliest Saxon periods, one
continued stream of Illustrious persons, showering upon it wealth,
privileges, honours, during life; and confiding their bodies to iu>
care after death. What was it that brought the great Apostle of
Ireland, after his successful labours, to Glastonbury, a little before
the middle of the fifth century ; when as yet no monastery existed,
and the few religious who performed the service of the church,
burrowed, like so many wild beasts, in dens, caves, and wrt'tche<l
huts? What could bring such a man, in all the height of his
spiritual success, to such a place? AVhat, but the sympathy that hi*
own exertions in Ireland naturally caused him to feel, in an extra-
ordinary d^ree, for the place where similar exertions had been
previously made in England ? Here St. I^trick is said to have spent
all the latter years of his life, and to have raiseo G.'Sstonbury Into a
regular community. A century later exhibits another retirement
to Glastonbury, which also, probably, marks the peculiar attraction
that the circumstances we have described had given to It. Ahont
the year 530, David Archbishop of Menevla, with seven ot his stif-
fragans, came to Glastonbury, and enlarged the buildings by i.'ie
erection of the chapel of tlie Holy Virgin, on the altar of which ho
deposited a sapphire of inestimable value. In 708, all previo'.L«
exertions to increase the comfort, size, and beauty of the conventual
edifice were thrown Into the shade by those of Ina, King of Wes-
sex, who rebuilt the whole from the very foundation. At that
period, the alleged origin of Glastonbury seems to have been fully
believed; it was on the chapel of St. Joseph that the monarch
lavished his utmost care and wealth, gambhing it all over with
gold and silver, filling it with a profusion of the most costly ves-
sels and ornaments. Still growing in magnificence, scaixxly a
century and a quarter had elapsetl, before new works were com-
menced, which, when finished, made Glastonbury the " pride of
England, and the glory of Christendom." A striking evidence of

I its pre-eminence is given in the statement that it then furnished
superiors to all the religious houses in the kingdom. But when we
know who was the abbot of Glastonbury at the period, we may
cease to be surprised — it was Dunstan, a man whose connect'cn

i with it has added even to Glastonbury's reputation. Bom almost
within its precincts, his mind saturated with all its strange and
beautiful legends, he fonued a personal attachment to the moDa»

S 2

501.— Kout in Shanilxtuni Cbuali
Norfolk.

B 2.— WeitSWc of Lr;ackirk Font.

503.— Kast Sid; of BriJikirk Font.

tC4.— Font In Berkeley Chnr:

5 O.-Slarriage of the Father and Mother of Bcckct. (From the Royal JIS. 2 B. vil.)

(S08.~Bopti5m of the Mother of Becket. (From the ttoyal MS 2 15. < ii )

510.— Burial of a deceased Monk in the luterior of a Convent. (From anancient drawing in the Harleian Mi3.'.

en.— stone Coins -L-iworth Abbey, Suffolk.

6C5.— Font in IBley CLuvch,

P^:^-^

SSO.- Font in Neswick ChurcJ.

6C7.— Group of Konsan-Knglieh FoulG.

132

t%M.

SI6.— St Dotolpb's PrioiT, OoldKstCT.

134

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book ll.

tery, long before ambition could have led hiiii to connect its ad-
vancement witii his own ; in early life he received the tonsure
within its walls ; and when, returning for a time, disgusted with the
world, or at least that portion of it, Athelstan's court, with which he
was best acquainted, he buried himself in privacy, it was in or near
the Abbey of Glastonbury that lie built himself a cell or hermitage
with an oratory, and divided his time between devotion and the
manual service of the abbey, in the construction of crosses, vials,
censers, and vestments. It is hardly necessary to state that here
too he held that meeting with the Evil One which has redounded
so greatly to his fame. Those who like to study the hidden mean-
ings that no doubt generally do exist in the most marvellous narra-
tions that have been handed down from a remote time, may find a
clue to this one, in the statement of the ' Golden Legend,' printed
by Caxton, that the Devil came in the form of a handsome woman.
From the period of the abbacy of Dunstan dates the establishment
of the Benedictine monks in England, who were brought from Italy
by him, and subsequently introduced into his own monastery, in
spite of the clamour raised against them, in consequence of their
severe discipline, which put to shame the loose and almost licen-
tious habits of the secular clergy. He lost his abbacy, however,
for a time, in consequence, and was banished during the reign of
Edwy ; but returned during that of his successor, Edgar, over
whose mind it is well known he obtained the most absolute control.
It was probably through this intimacy that Edgar was induced to
erect a palace within two miles of Glastonbury, at a most romantic
situation still known as Edgarley ; and of which structure some
interesting vestiges remain, — a pelican and two wolves' heads, at-
tached to a motiern house; the last symbol referring to Edgar's
tax upon the "Welsh people for the extirpation of wolves. The
king was buried at Glastonbury, and, we may be sure, in the most
sumptuous manner, for the monks owed much to him. What with
the privileges conferred by him, and what with those previously
possessed, Glastonbury was raised to the highest pitch of monastic
splendour. Over that little kingdom, the Isle of Avalon, the abbots
were virtual sovereigns ; neither king nor bishop might enter with-
out their permission. They governed themselves in the same inde-
pendent mode: the monks elected their own superior. And, although
some reverses were subsequently experienced, as immediately after
the Conquest, for instance, the foundation continued down to its very
destruction at the Eeformation, in such magnificence, that the poor
of the whole country round were twice a week relieved at its gates,
and when the last abbot, "Whytyng, rode forth, he was accustomed
to move amidst a train of some sixscore persons. That same abljot
died on the scaffold, a victim to the brutal monarch who then dis-
graced the throne ; and a revenue exceeding 3,500/. a-year fell into
Henry's rapacious hands.

Such is a mere sketch of the history of the important abbey of
Glastonbury ; but there is yet one point connected with it, that, in
the absence of all other interesting associations, would invest the
precincts of Glastonbury with a thousand fascinations. Here King
Arthur was buried ! Arthur, that hero, whose most romantic
history appears so dimly to our eyes through the mists of above
thirteen centuries, that we can hardly distinguish the boundaries
between the true and false. There can be no doubt, however, of
that part of his history which relates to Glastonbury. He died, it is
understood, at the battle of Camlan in Cornwall, in 542, and was
conveyed by sea to Glastonbury, there buried, and, in process of
time, the spot was altogether forgotten and lost. The way in which
it was discovered harmonizes with the rest of Arthur's story. When
Henry the Second was passing through Wales on his way to Ireland,
in 1172, he delighted the Welsh with his politic compliments upon
their services in his Irish expeditions. They, full of enthusiasm,
wished him all the prosperity that had attended their favourite King
Arthur, whose exploits were sung to him as he dined, by one of the
native bards. In the song mention was made of the place of Arthur's
burial, between two pyramids in the churchyard at Glastonbury.
On Henry's return to England, he told the abbot of the monastery
what he had heard ; and a search was instituted. Of this very inte-
resting event there was fortunately eye-witness one of our chroni-
clers, Giraldus Cambrensis. Seven feet below the surface of a huge
broad stone was found, with a small thin plate of lead in the form
of a corpse, and bearing, in rude letters and barbarous style, the
Latin inscription : " Ilic jacet Sepultus Inclytus Rex Arturius in
Insula Avalonia." Nine feet deeper, they found the object of their
search, in the trunk of a tree ; the remains of Arthur himself were
displayed to their eyes, and by his side lay those of his wife
Guinever. The bones of the king were of extraordinary size ; the
sliinbone, fastened against the foot of a very tall man, reached three
Eugers' breadth above his knee. The skull was covered with wounds ;

ten distinct fractures were counted ; one of great size, apparently
the eflTect of the fatal blow. The queen's bodj was strangely whole
an i perfect ; the hair neatly platted, and of the colour of burnished
gold ; but when touched, it fell suddenly to dust, reminding one of
the similar scene described in Mrs. Gi-ay's work on ' Etruria,' where
the party beheld for a moment, on opening a tomb, one of the ancient
kings of that mysterious people, rais(d and garbed in lifelike and
sovereign state, and in which, on the exposure to the fresh air, there
was perceptible a kind of misty frost. The next moment all was
lost, in the dust of the ground upon which they gazed with so nmch
astonishment. This discovery appears to have excited so deep and
permanent an interest, that Edward the First could not be con-
tented without seeing the remains himself: so he came hither with
his beloved Queen Eleanor; and the ceremony of exhumation was
very solemnly performed. The skulls were then set up in the
Treasury, to remain there ; the rest of the bodies were returned to
their places of deposit, Edward inclosing an inscription recording
the circumstances. The stately moimraent erected over Arthur
and Guinever was destroyed at the Eeformation, and with it dis-
appeared all traces of the contents.

We conclude with the following spirited lines from Drayton : —

"O three-times famous isle, where is that place tliat might
Be with tliyself compar'd for glory and delight,
■\Vliilst Glastonbury stood ? exalted to tliat prido
Whose monastery seem'd all other to deride :
Oh ! who tliy ruia sees whom wonder doth not fill
With our great fathers' pomp, devotion, and their skill ?
Thou more than mortal power (this judgment rightly wcigh'd)
Then present to assist, at that foundation laid.
On whom, for this sad waste, should justice lay the crime ?
Is there a power in fate, or doth it yield to time ?
Or was tlieir error such, that thou could'st not protect
Those buildings which thy hand did with tlieir zeal erect?
To whom didst thou commit that monument to keep,
That suft'ereth with the dead their memory to sleep ?
When not great Arthur's tomb nor holy Joseph's grave,
From sacrilege had power tlieir sacred boues to save ;
He who tliat God in man to his sepulchre brought.
Or he which for the faith twelve famous battles foug'.it.
Wliat ! did so many kings do honour to that place.
For avarice at last so vilely to deface ?
For reverence to that seat which had ascribed been.
Trees yet in winter bloom and bear their summer's green."

Of another monastic establishment of the period in review, St.
Botolph's, Colchester, we need not enter into any lengtheutKl
notice (Fig. 516). It was founded Ai the reign of Henry the First,
as a Priory of Augustine Canons, by a monk of the name of
Ernulph; dissolved, of course, at the Reformation; and the chief
buildings reduced to a premature ruin in the civil war, when the
great siege of Colchester took place. Parts of the church form
the chief remains. The west front has been originally a very
magnificent though very early work ; the double series of intersect-
ing arches that form the second and third stages of the faQade, and
extend over the elaborately-rich Norman gateway, are especially
interesting; as it is from such examples of the pointed arches thus
accidentally obtained by the intersections of round ones that tiie
essential principle of the Gothic has been supposed to have been
derived. Some of the lofty circular arches of the walls forming
the body of the church also exist in a tolerable state of preservation.
The length of the church was one hundred and eight feet, the
breadth across the nave and aisles about forty-four. Tiie exceeding
hardness of much of the materials used in the construction of this
building renders it probable that they had been taken from the
wrecks of Roman buildings at Colchester.

The priory of Lewes, in Sussex, of which there are only a few
walls remaining (Fig. 515), was founded in 1077, by William, Earl
of Warenne, who came into England with the Conqueror. The
founder has left a remarkable document in his charter to the abbey,
wherein he describes the circumstance which led him to tliis act of
piety. He and his wife were travelling in Burgundy, and finding
they could not in safety proceed to Rome, on account of the war
which was then carrying on between tiie Pope and tiie Emperor,
took up their abode in the great monastery of St. Peter at Cluni.
The hospitality with which they were treated, the sanctity and
charity of the establishment, determined the Earl to offer the new
religious house which he founded at Lewes to a select number of
the monks of that fraternity. After some difficulties his request was
complied with, and the Cluniacs took possession of this branch of
their house. The anxiety of the earl liberally to endow this house,
and his determination "as God increased his substance to increase
hat of the monks," finds a remarkable contrast four hundred and

Chap. II.J

OLD ENGLAND.

fifty years afterwards. After tlie dissolution of tlie religious liougea,
John I'ortmari writes to Lord Cromwell of his surprising efforts in
pulliny down tlie cliurcli ; and having recounted how ho had
destroyed this chapel, and plucked down that altar, he adds, " (hat
your Lordshij) may know with how many men we have done this,
we brougiit from London sevent(!eii pc-rsons, three cariMjnters, two
smiths, two plumbers, and one that keepetli tlie furnace. These
are men exercised nmch better thaji the men we find here in the
country." And yet they left enough " to point a moral."

135

Tradition and romance iiave been busily at work respecting the
origin and locality of tlie earliest building dedicated to St. Paul as
the chief metropolitan church. It has been supposed to have been
founded by the Apostle Paul liimself ; while there is really some
reason to presume that the site, possibly the actual building, had
been at first dedicated to the heathen worehip of Diana. Ox heads
sacred to that goddess, were discovered in digging on the south'
side of St. Paul's in 1316; at other times the teeth of boars and
other beasts, and a piece of buck's horn, with fragments of vessels,
that might have been used in tlie pagan sacrifices, have been found!
'i'he idea itself is of antique date. Flete, the monk of "Westminster,
referring to the partial return to heatlienism in the fifth century'
when the Saxons and Angles, as yet unconverted to Christianity]
overran the country, observes, "Then were rcrforerf the whole abo-
minations wherever the Britons were expelled their places. London
worships Diana, and the suburbs of Thorney [the site of West-
minster] offer incense to Apollo." To leave speculations, and
turn to facts. The see of London was in existence as early as the
latter part of the second century ; though it is not until the sixth
that we find any actual reference to a church. But at that period
a very interesting incident occurred in the cliurcli, which Bede
drnmatically relates :— When Sebert, the founder of Westminster
Abbey, and the joint founder (according to Bede) with Ethelbert
King of Kent, of St. Paul's, died, he "left his three sons, who were
yet pagans, heirs of his temporal kingdom. Immediately on their
father's decease they began openly to practise idolatry (though
whilst lie lived they had somewhat refrained), and also gave free
licence to their subjects to worsliip iilols. At a certain time these
princes, seeing the Bishop [of London, Mellitus] administering the
sacrament to the people in the church, after the celebration of mass,
and being puffed up with rude and barbarous folly, spake, as the
common report is, thus unto him:— 'AVhy dost thou not give ns,
also, some of that white bread which thou didst give unto our
father Saba [Sebert], and which thou dost not yet cease to <rive to
the people in the church ?' He answered, ' If ye will be washed
m that wholesome font whereat your father was, ye may likewise
oat of this blessed bread whereof he was a partaker; but if ye
contemn the lavatory of life, ye can in nowise taste the bread of
life.' ' We will not,' they rejoined, ' enter into this font of water,
for we know we have no need to do so ; but we will eat of that
bread nevertheless.' And when they had been often and earnestly
warned by the bishop that it could not be, and that no man could
partake of this most holy oblation without purification, and cleans-
mg by baptism, they at length, in the height of their rage, said
to him, ' Well, if thou wilt not comply with us in the small matter
; that we ask, thou shall no longer abide in our province and do-
I minions ;' and straightway they expelled hiin, commanding tliat
I he and all his company should quit the realm." Thus once more
Christianity was banished from London. It was, however, but for
I a short time. The worship that the great Apostle of the Gentiles
preached soon again appeared in the church dedicated to his name •
and powerful men vied with each other in raising the edifice to the
^ighest rank of ecclesiastical foundations. Kenred, king of the
Jlercians, one of these early benefactors, ordained that it should be
as free m all things as he himself desired to be in the Day of Judg-
ment. The feeling thus evidenced continued, or rather gained in
strength. AYhen the Conqueror came over, some of its possessions
were seized by his reckless followers : on the verj- day of his coro-
nation, however, their master, having previously caused everytliiiKr
to be restored, granted a charter securing its property for ever, and
expressing the giver's benedictions upon all who should augment
the revenues, and his curses on all who should diminish them The
church of Ethelbert was burnt in the Conqueror's reign, and a new
one commenced by Bishop Maurice. That completed, in little more
than a century.-when it appeared "so stately and beautiful, that
U was worthily numbered among the most famous buUdings,"— a
great portion of the labours were recommenced in order to give
St. Paul's the advantage of the strikingly beautiful Gothic style that
had been introduced in the interim, and carried to a high pitch of

perfection. In 1221 a new steeple was finished ; ««d iu 1240 a o«w
choir. Not the least noticeable feature of the«s new works is tj»
mode in which the money was raiW-namely, by letters fitm, the
bishops addresse.1 to the clergy and others under their Jurisdietion
granting indulgences for a certain number of days to all those who'
Laving penance to perform, or being penitent, «hould a«Ut in ih^
rebuilding of St. Paul's. The subterranean church, St. Faith wm
begun in 1256 (Fig. 517). And thus at last was completed ,1m,
structure that remained down ,o the great fire of Loi«lon, when
Old St. Pauls was included in the widespread ruin that overtook
the nietropolU.

And in many respects that Old St. Paul's was an extraordinary
aiid deeply-interesting pile. Iu dimensions were truly enormous
The space occupied by the building exceeded three acres and a half.
The entire height of the tower and spire was 534 feet (Fig. 522).
For nearly 7C0 feet did nave and choir and presbytery extend in one
continuous and most beautiful architectural vista ; unbroken save by
the low screen dividing the nave from the choir. The breadth and
height were commensurate; the fonner measuring 130 feet, tlie
latter, in the nave, 102 feet. Over all this immense range of wall,
floor, and roof, with supporting lines of pillars, sculpture and paint-*
ing and gilding had lavished their stores ; and their effecU were
still further enhanced by the gorgeously rich and solemn hues that
streamed upon them from the stained windows. At ever)- step was
passed some beautiful altar with the tall taper burning before it, or
some chantry, whence issued the musical voices of the priests, as
they offered up pr„yers for the departed founders, or some magnifi-
cent shrine, where all the ordinary arts of adornment had been in-
sufficient to satisfy the desire to reverence properly the memory of
its saint, and which therefore sparkled with the precious metals, and
still more precious gems-silver and gold, rubies, emeralds, and
pearls. Pictures were there too, on cverj- column or spare corner
of the walls, with their stories culled from the most deeply-treasured
and venerated pages of the Sacred Scriptures; the chief of these was
the great picture of St. Paul, which stood beside the high altar in a
beautiful " tabernacle " of wood. Then there were the monuments ;
a little world in themselves of all that was rare and quaint, splendid
or beautiful, in monumental sculpture and architecture; and which
yet when gazed upon, hardly arrested the careful attention of the
beholder to their own attractions, but rather preoccupied his muid
at the first sight of them by remembrances of the men to whose
memory they had been erected. Here lay two monarchs— Sebba,
King of the East Saxons, converted by Erkenwold, Bishop of
London, and son of King Offa ; and Ethelred the Unready, whose
reign might be appropriately designatetl by a more disgraceful
epithet. Here lay also Edward Atbeling, or the outlaw, Ethelred's
grandson, one of the popular heroes of English romantic bistorj-,
who lost the kingdom by his father's (Edmund Ironside's) agree!
ment with Canute, to divide the kingdom whilst boUi livetl, and the
survivor to inherit the whole, and who was waiting about the Court
of Edward the Confessor in the hope of regaining that kingdom,
when he died, poisoned, it was suspected, by his rival Harold. Here
also lay Saint Erkenwold, the canonized bishop of the sec, and
in such glorious state as has been accorded to the remains of few
even of the mightiest potentates of earth. Among all the marvels
of artistical wealth that filled almost to overflowing the interior of
Old St. Paul's, the shrine of St. Erkenwold stood pre-eminent. It
consisted of a lofty pyramidical structure, in the most exquisitely
decorated Pointed style ; with an altar-table iu front, covered with
jewels and articles of gold and silver. Among the former was the
famous sapphire stone, given by Richard de Preston, citizen and
grocer of London, for the cure of infirmities in the eyes of all those
who, thus afflicted, might resort thither. To the mental as well as
to the bodily vision this shrine was the grand feature of the catlie-
dral ; for the commemoration of the saint's burial was regularly
observed with the highest and most magnificent of churoh cere-
monials. Then, in solemn procession, the bishop, arrayed in robes of
the most dazzling splendour, accompanied by the dean and other dis-
tinguished officers, and followed by the greater part of the parochial
clergy of the diocese, passed through the cathedral to the shrine,
where solemn masses were sung, and the indulgences granted to £.11
who visited the saint's burial-place, and to those who there offered
oblations, recited. Then might have been beheld a touching and beau-
tiful scene; rich and poor pressing for>Tard with their gifts costly

in the one case ; a mere mite, like the poor widow's, in the other.

But there were yet mightier spirits among the buried dead of Old
St. Paul's. Passing over Sir John Beaucliauip, sou of the renowned
Guy, Earl of Warwick, Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, one of
Edward the First's ablest military cfficers, and the accomplished
Sir Simon Burley, executed during the reign of Richard II. we

517 —St. Faith's

51U.— I'aulc W-Ut.

i.— Old St. I'auiV, before tlie Destruction of ihe Ste. pi

[,20.- Paul's Cross

;521. -Kast Window, from the Choir, St. Paul'?.

513.— Old St. 1 a- 8 Cai.'-,. a' -fe :; J

/!dia#»^!^

-The WcBlcm Bitranw, Interior, St Ilartholomew"« Clinreh,

H^T

•n.— Rntraon I* at 1

I Ojw, hM ■BhhfttU.

(23.— Sralli Side of St. Bartholomew'* Onnh.

^>-T-^^

528— Prior Rahtre's Tomb.

tt30.— Prior BoltoD'e Relma.

No. 18.

o.o — The Choir, St. BartbolouMw'i CboRh.

137

138

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book IL

find tliat John of Gaunt, " time-honoured Lancaster," was interred
in Old St. Paul's beneath a magnificent monument, where athwart
the slender octagonal pillars appeared with a very picturesque effect
his tilting-spear, and where the mighty duke himself lay in effigy
beneath a canopy of the most elaborate fretwork. Beside him re-
clined Blanche, the duke's first wife, whom Chaucer has made im-
mortal by his grateful verse. In the cathedral was witnessed on
one occasion an important scene, with which John of Gaunt was
most honourably connected. "Wickliffe was cited here to answer
before the great prelates of the realm the charge of Iieresy and inno-
vation. He appeared, but with such a train as seldom falls to the
early history of church reform to speak of; it will be sufficient to
say, John of Gaunt was at their head. The meeting broke up
in confusion. In later times Linacre, the eminent physician, and
founder of the College of Physicians, Sir Christopher Hatton, Sir
Prancis Walsingliam, Elizabeth's secretary, and Sir Nicholas, father
of Lord Bacon, her keeper of the seals, were all interred in St.
Paul's ; as were Dean Colet, the founder of St. Paul's School, and
the poet Donne, whose effigy yet exists in the present cathedral,
disgracefully tlirown into a dark corner in the vaults below.

There were many features of Old St. Paul's wliich, if they did not
aiid to, or even harmonise in our notions with, the religious charac-
ter of the edifice, certainly added wonderfully to its attractions in the
. eyes of our more enjoying and less scrupulous forefathers. Thus, did
civil war threaten — the martial population of London flocked to
the church to witness the presentation of the banner of St. Paul to
Robert Fitzwalter, the hereditary Castellan of the city, who came
on horseback, and armed, to the great west door, where he was met
by the mayor and aldermen, also armed ; and, when he had dis-
mounted and saluted them, handed to them the banner, " gules," with
the image of St. Paul in gold, saying they gave it to him as their
bannerer of fee, to bear and govern to the honour and profit of the
city. After that, they gave the baron a horse of great value, and
twenty pounds in money. Then was a marshal chosen to guide the
host of armed citizens, who were presently to be called together eii
masse by the startling sound of the great bell. Was amusement
sought — there were the regular Saturnalias of the Boy-Bishops, and
the plays, for which Old St. Paul's enjoyed such repute. The boys
of the church seem to have been originally the chief performers,
and obtained so much mastery over the art as to perform frequently
before tlie kings of England. Their preparations were expensive, but
were evidently more than paid for by tlie auditors ; for in the reign
of Richard II. ihey petitioned that certain ignorant and inexpe-
rienced persons might be prohibited from representing the History
of the Old Testament to the great prejudice of the clergy of the
cathedral. Were great public events passing — had one monarch
been pushed from the tlirone by another or by deatli — St, Paul's was
almost sure to furnish, in one shape or another, palpable evidences of
the matter that was in all men's thoughts. Thus when Louis of
France came to London in 1216, the English barons present swore
fealty to him in St. Paul's ; thus, when success now elated the heart
of a Henry VI., now of his adversary Edward IV., each came to St.
Paul's, to take as it were solemn and public possession of the king-
dom: thus, when the body of a Richard II., or of a Philip Sydney,
had to be displayed before the eyes of a startled or of a mourning
nation, to St. Paul's was it brought — tlie king to be less ho-
jioured in his remains than the humblest of knights, the knight to
te more honoured than any but the very best of kings. Were
there business to attend to, when all these other sources of interest
were unheeded or for the time in abeyance,^then to St. Paul's
Walk must the citizens of London have had frequent occasion to go.
There were lawyers feed, horses and benefices sold, and set payments
made. A strange scene, and a strange company, in consequence,
did the cathedral present through the day ! " At one time," writes
an eye-witness, " in one and the same rank, yea, foot by foot, and
elbow by elbow, shall you see walking, the knight, the gull, the
gallant, the upstart, the gentleman, the clown, the captain, the
appel-squire, the lawyer, the usurer, the citizen, the bankrout, the
scholar, the beggar, the doctor, the idiot, the ruflfian, the cheater,
the puritan, the cut-throat, the high men, the low men, the true
man, and the thief; of all trades and professions some ; of all coun-
tries some. Thus while Devotion kneels at her prayers, doth Pro-
fanation walk under her nose " (Dekker's ' Dead Term '). (Fig.
518.)

The undoing of Old St. Paul's forms scarcely a less interesting
history than the doing. The Bell Tower was the stake of Henry
VIII., when he played at dice with Sir Miles Partridge; the knight
won, and the Bell Tower was lost to St Paul's : it soon disappeared.
In the reigns of Edward VI. and Elizabeth, the greater part of the
sculpture and rich brasses of the interior were destroyed by Puritan

hands ; whilst the former reign was also marked by the wholesale
plunder of the very walls of the outworks of the structure, the
chapel and cloisters of Pardon Church Haugh, where the ' Dance
of Death ' was painted, Shyrington's Chapel, and the Ciiarnel House
and Cliapel, with their many goodly monuments, in order (such wa.s
tlie base fact) to get the materials, the mere stone and timber, for
the new palace in the Strand, Somerset House. Then followed the
destruction of the steeple by fire in 1561. Next the civil war,
with its injuries. That over, and the State, after the brief inter-
regnum of the Commonwealth, restored to its old ways, came the
great fire, and put an end to all that remained of the cathedral, as
well as to the many degradations the fine old edifice had experienced.
Among these injuries, not the least were the beautifying and restoring
processes of Inigo Jones, whose portico might elsewhere have added
even to his well-deserved fame, but at St. Paul's only evidenced the
mistake the great architect had made, when he fancied he understood
the Gothic (Fig. 519).

There are probably few of our readers M'ho, as they have gazed
on those architectural wonders of the middle ages, our cathedrals
and larger ecclesiastical structures, and thought of the endless diflS-
culties, mechanical and otherwise, surmounted in their construction,
but have felt a strong desire to look back to the periotls of their
erection, and to note all the variety of interesting circumstances that
must have marked such events. What, for instance, could be at once
more gratifying and instructive than to be able to familiarize ourselves
with the motives and characters of the chief founders, with the feel-
ings and thoughts of the people among and for whom the structures
ill question were reared ? If our readers will now follow us into the
history of St. Bautiiolomew Priory, Sinithfield, we think we can
venture to promise them some such glimpse of those fine old builders
at work ; and that too founded upon the best of authorities — an in ■
mate of the priory, who wrote so soon after its foundation, that
persons were still alive who had witnessed the whole proceedings.
We shall borrow occasionally the language as well as the facts of the
good monk's history, which has been printed in the ' Monasticon,'
and in Malcolm's ' London.' In the reign of Henry the First there
was a man named Rahere, sjvung and born from low lineage, and
who when he attained the flower of youth began to haunt the house-
holds of noblemen and the palaces of princes ; where, under every
elbow of them he spread their cushions, with japes and flatterings
delectably anointing their eyes, by this manner to draw to him their
friendships. Such was the youthful life of Rahere. But with years
came wisdom and repentance. He would go to Rome, and there
seek remission of his sins. He did so. At the feet of the shrine of
the Apostles Peter and Paul he poured out his lamentations; but,
to his inexpressible pain, God, he thought, refused to hear him. He
fell sick. And then he shed out as water his heart in the sight of
God ; the fountains of his nature to the very depths were broken up ;
he wept bitter tears. At last dawned a new life upon the penitent
man. He vowed if God would grant him health to return to hi^
own country, he would make an hospital in recreation of poor men,
and minister to their necessities to the best of his power. With re-
turning health to the mind not unnaturally came back health to the
body. And now more and more grew upon him the love of the
great work he had determined to perform. Visions, as he believed,
were vouchsafed to him for his guidance. On a certain night he
saw one full of dread and sweetness. He fancied himself to be borne
up on high by a certain winged beast, and when from his great ele-
vation he sought to look down, he beheld a horrible pit, deeper than
any man might attain to see the bottom of, opening, as it seemed,
to receive him. He trembled, and great cries proceeded from his
mouth. Then to his comfort there appeared a certain man, having
all the majesty of a king, of great beauty, and imperial authority,
and his eye fastened upon Rahere. " O man," said he, " what and
how much service shouldst thou give to him that in so great a
peril hath brought help to thee ?" Rahere answered, " Whate\ er
might be of heart and of right, diligently should I give in recom-
pense to my deliverer." Then said the celestial visitant, " I am
Bartholomew, the Apostle of Jesus Christ, that come to succour
thee in thine anguish, and to open to thee the sweet mysteries of
heaven. Know me truly, by the will and commandment of the
Holy Trinity and the common favour of the celestial court and
council, to have chosen a place in the suburbs of London, at Smith-
field, where in my name thou shalt form a church." Rahere with
a joyful heart returned to London, where he presently obtained the
concurrence of the king to carry out his views. The choice of the
place was, according to the monkish historian, who believed but
what all believed, no less a matter of special arrangement by Heaven.

Chap. II.J

OLD ENGLAND

139

King Edward tlie Confessor had previously had the very spot pointeil
out to ium wlu'ii he was bodily slecpinfj, but Ids heart to Go<l wak-
ing; nay more, three men of Greece who had como to London had
gone to the place to worship (!od, and there prophesiecl wonderful
things rehiting to the future teiMjile tiiat was to be erected on it. In
other points, the k)cality was anytliing but a favoured one. Truly,
says the historiun, the place before his cleansing pretended to no
hope of goodness. Right unclean it was ; and as a marsh dung^
and funny, with water at most times abounding ; whilst tiie only dry
portion was occupied by the gallows for the execution of criminals.
Work and ["lace deteniiined on, Uahere had now to begin to build ;
and strange indeed were tiie modes adopted by him to obtain the
gift of the requisite materials, bring together the hosts of unpaid
workmen, or to find funds for such additional materials and labour as
niiglit be necessary. He made and feigned himself unwise, it is said,
and outwardly pretended the cheer of an idiot, and began a little
while to hide llie secretness of his soul. And the more secretly he
wrought the more wisely he did his work. Truly, in playing unwise
he drew to him the fellowship of children and servants, assembling
himself as one of them ; and with their use and help, stones, and
other things profitable to the building, lightly he gathered together.
Thus did he address himself to one class of persons, those who
would look upon his apparent mental peculiarities as a kind of
supernatural proof of his enjoying the especial care of the Deity.
Another class he influenced by his passionate eloquence in the
churches ; where he addressed audiences with the most remarkable
effect, now stirring them so to gladness that all the people applauded
him, now moving tliem to sorrow by his searching and kindly exposure
of their sins, so that nought but singing and weeping were heard on
all sides. A third mode of obtaining help was by the direct one of
personal solicitation at the houses of the inhabitants of the neigh-
bourhood, in the course of which St. Bartholomew often, it appears,
redeemed his promise to Rahere of assistance. Alfun, a coadjutor of
RahereV, the builder of old St. Giles, Cripplegate, went one day to
a widow, to see what she could give them for the use of the church
and the hospital of St. Bartholomew. She told him she had but seven
measures of meal, which was absolutely necessary for the supply of
her family. She, however, at last gave one measure. After Alfun
had departed with her contribution, she casually looked over the re-
maining measures, when she thought she counted seven measures still ;
she counted again, and there were eight ; again, there were nine. How
long this very profitable system of arithmetic lasted, our good monk
does not state. And thus at last was St. Bartholomew's Priory raised,
clerks brought together to live in it, a piece of adjoining ground con-
secrated as a place of sepulchre, privileges showered upon it by the
hands of royalty, and the whole stamped, as was thought, with the
emphatic approval of Heaven by the miraculous cures that were then
wrought in the establishment. Yes, the work was finished, and
Rahere made the first prior. No wonder that the people, as we are
informetl, were greatly astonished both at the work and the founder;
or that St. Bartholomew's was esteemed to belong more to the super-
natural than the natural. No wonder that as to Rahere it should
be asked, in the words of the monkish chronicler, " Whose heart
lightly should take or admit such a man not product of gentle blood,
not greatly endowed witii literature, or of divine lineage," not-
withstanding his nominally low origin ? Rahere fulfilled the duties
of prior in the beloved house of his own raising, for about twenty
years, when the clay house of this world he forsook, and the
house everlasting entered.

Of this very building, or rather series of buildings erected by
Rahere himself, there remains in a fine state of preservation an im-
portant portion, the choir of the conventual church used as the
present parish church (Fig. 526). There can be no doubt that we
have the original walls, pillars, and .arches of the twelfth cen-
tury ; the massive, grand, and simple style of the whole tells truly
through the date of their erection. This choir, therefore, forms one
of the most interesting and valuable pieces of antique ecclesiastical
architecture now existing in England. Among its more remarkable
features may be mentioned the continuous aisle that runs round the
choir, and opening into it between the flat and circular arch-piers ;
the elegant horseshoe-like arches of the chancel at the end of the
choir; and the grand arches at the opposite extremity, shown in our
engraving, on which formerly rose a stately tower corresponding in
beauty and grandeur to iill the other portions of the pile. The tomb
of Rahere is also in the choir, but it is of somewhat later date than
tf:e priory. Nothing so exquisitely beautiful in sculpture as that
work with its recumbent eftigy, and attending monks and angels, its
fretted canopies and niches and finials, had yet burst upon old Eng-
land when Rahere died (Fig. 528). The very perfect state in which
it now appears is owing to Prior Bolton, who restored it in the

sixteenth century, su well m other parU of the ttruciure; a Ubour
of which lie was evidently very proud, for wherever his lundiwork
may be traced, there too you need not look long for his liandwriling
— his signature as it were —a Boll in lun (Fig. 530). This prior was
an elegant and uccomplihhed man ; if even he were oot much mor».
The beautiful oriel window in the second story of the choir which
encloses the prior's pew or seat, nearly facing Raher«'s roooumrat,
as if that the prior might the better look down on the last rcating.
place of the illustrious founder, was added by Bolton, and has
been supposed, for reasons into which we cannot here enter, to be
from his own designs. Another part of the ancient structure is to
1)6 found in the old vestry-room, which was formerly an oratory, de-
dicated to the Virgin. Among the buriahi in the church the moit
important perhaps was that of Roger Walden, Bishop of London,
who rose from a comparatively humble position to the liighest offices
of the State ; he was successively Dean of York, Treasurer of Calais,
Royal Secretary and Royal Treasurer, and, lastly, Primate of
England, on the occasion of the banishment of Archbishop Arundel
by Richard the Second. That ecclesiastic, however, retunied
with Bolingbroke to his country and office, atid Walden became
at once a mere private person. Arundel, it is pleasant to relatr,
behaved nobly to the unfortunate prelate, making him Bishop
of London. He died, however, shortly after. Fuller comparet
him to one so jaw-fallen with over-long fasting that he cannot eat
meat when brought unto him. Sir Walter Mildmay, founder
of Emanuel College, Cambridge, and Dr. Francis Anthony, the dis-
coverer and user of a medicine drawn from gold (aurum potabile
he called it), also lie here buried. There are other monuments not
unworthy of notice ; though at St. Bartholomew's, as now at most
other churches, the major portion refer to those who were, like
" Captain John Millett, mariner, 1600,"

Dcsiiona hither to resort
Because this parish was Iheir port ;

but who have not, like him, told us this in so amusing a manner
Of the other parts of the priory, there remain the entrance gateway
(Fig. 529), portions of the cloisters, and of the connected domestic
buildings ; above all, the refectory, or grand hall, still stands to a
great extent entire, though so metamorphosed that its very existence
has hardly been known to more than a few. It is now occupied by
a tobacco-manufactory and divided into stories ; but there can be
no doubt that any one who shall attentively examine the place will
come to the same conclusion as ourselves, that the whole has formed
one grand apartment, extending from the ground to the present roof,
and that the latter has been originally of open woodwork. It may
help to give some general idea of the magnificent scale of the priory,
to state that this hall must have measured forty feet high, thirty
broad, and one hundred and twenty in length. Another illustration
of the same point is furnished by the plan, which shows the pile in
its original state ( Fig. 524).* If we look at the part marked O, the
present parish church, and the old choir, and see how small a
proportion it bears to the entire structure, we have a striking view
of the former splendour and present degradation of St. Bartholo-
mew's. The site of the other buildings there marked are now
occupied by the most incongruous assemblage of filthy stables and
yards, low public-houses, mouldering tenements, with here and there
residences of a better character ; and in few or none of these can we
enter without meeting with corners of immense walls projecting
suddenly out, vaulted roofs, boarded-up pillars, and similar evidences
of the ruin upon which all these appurtenances of the modem in-
habitants have been established. The only other feature that it is
necessary to mention is the crypt, which extends below the refec-
tory, and is one of the most remarkable places of the kind even in
London, so rich in crypts (Fig. 525). It runs the whole length of
the refectory, and is divided by pillars into a cfentral part and two
aisles. Popular fancy has not even been satisfied with these suffi-

• KXPI4ANATION OP KEFERESCtS IN THE PLAN (Fig. •»4>

irbicb

Uie

A. The Eastern Cloister, the only one of i

there are any remains.

B. The NorUi I'luister, parallel wlUi

Nave.

C. The ikioth Ooister.

V. The West Cloister. The Square thiu «n-
closed by the Cloisters measoje* aboQl a
hnmlretl feet each way.

E. The North Aisle of the NaTe,

F. The South Aisle, to which the existing

Gateway in front of Smltb&eld was the
originiil entrance.

0. The Xave, no part of which or of the

Aisles now remains.
H. St. Bartholomew's Chapel, destroyed by
Fire about 1830.

1. Middlesex Passage, leading from Great to

Little Bartholomew Close.
J. The Dning Hall or Refectory of the Priory,

with Uie CYypl beneath.
K. Situation of the Great Tower, which wa»

supported oo four arcbea, tkat ttill re-
main.

L. The Nortbem Alsl« of (be Cboir.

M. The SotitheRi AU* of (be CMr.

N. TbeEaatera AMeoTtbeCkolr.

a Tbe pracnt FkiM Ctank. toalag Ik*
Choii of tbe oM Prtonr Cbar^

P. Tbe Prior's Hooae, with tbe DoeBllofy •»!
InJbnaiy above.

q. ate of Um Pricr** Officei, Slablct, Wood-
n«d.kc.

R. ne Old VeatlT.

S. Tbe CbapKr-HoQie, with an cnlniKe Gate-
way f^om.

T. The Soudi Traoaept.

V. Tbe North Tranaept.

y. 'The present entraaee into tbe Chnrch.
On tbe top of tbepUn is Uttk BartholoiDew
Cloee. on tbe left Colh Fair, at tha
U>ttom Smitbfield, and on tbe rigfat
Great Bartbolnxww Close.

T 2

631.— The Temple Qmrch, &om the Entrance.

32. -TIic Western Window, Altar, &c., Temple Church.

534.— Porch, Temple Chnrcb.

635 —Interior of the Koucd, XeiDple_Cijurcb.

t3t.— Round Churcb, Cambridge. Interior.

Ml.-ac JobD'i H<M|iluL— rraa iUUr.

512.— St John's Gate, ClerkeuweU,,lii41.

E3S.— Tba Temple Chordi, fran tbe Soui.

141

142

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

ciently noticeable facts as to the subterranean regions of St. Bartho-
lomew's, but has stretched the crypt all the way to Islington,
where the prior had his counlry residence and pleasance or garden
of Canonbury ; and where the mansion and garden-house of Prior
Bolton are still preserved, close by the famous Tower of Canonbury.
The tower of course foi med a part of the Canonbury estate, which
evidently derives its name from tlie canons of tlie priory.

Among those extraordinary institutions whicli from time to time
spring up in the world, rise to great prosperity, and in that state
exist for centuries together, exercising the most important influence
over the affairs of men, and then at last, either through the process
of gradual decay or the operations of a more sudden agency, dis-
appear altogether, and leave behind them, as the only traces of their
existence, a few moiddering edifices for the antiquary to mourn over
or to restore — among such institutions, conspicuous before all
others, stand those of the famous Christian warriors, as they loved
to designate themselves, the Knights of St. John and of the
Temple. And never was there a more deeply-interesting history
given to the world than is embodied in the records that tell us of
the growth of these Orders, of tlie picturesque amalgamation of the
most opposite qualities of human nature required as the indispensable
preliminary of membership, of the active bravery and passive for-
titude with which tlie objects of the Institutions were pursued, of
the curiously-intense hatred that existed between the two great
Orders, and of their fate, so sudden, terrible, and, in some respects,
sublime in the one case, so protracted and comparatively undignified
and commonplace in the other. In these pages we can only touch,
and tliat briefly, upon the salient points of such a history. St.
John's may be called the oldest of the two Orders, since it dates
back to the erection cf the Hospital of St. John at Jerusalem, soon
after the middle of the eleventh century, when it was founded for
the accommodation of Christian pilgrims, in connection with the
church of Santa Maria de Latina, built by the Christians of com-
mercial Italy, with the consent of the Mohammedan governors of
the Holy Land. But it was then no fighting community : to relieve
the hungry, weary, houseless, and sick, of their own faith, whom
piety had brought to that far-off land, was their especial vocation.
But the kindly offices of the good monks were not limited by the
boundaries of creed ; the " Infidel " Arab or Turk vs^as also welcome
whenever necessity brought him to their doors ; a state of things
that contrasts powerfully and humiliatingly with the state that was
to supersede it.

The influences that transformed the peaceful monks of St. John's
into the most turbulent of soldiers did not spring out of common
occurrences. The wars of the Crusades broke out, the Saracens
were driven from Jerusalem, and Godfrey of Bouillon elected its
first Christian sovereign ; but the Hospital of St. John remained
essentially the same, more prosperous, but not more martial. It
should seem, even, that the ambition that alone agitated the members
at the time was that of enhancing the legitimate merits of their
position, by becoming still more charitable in their charity, still
more humble in their humility, still more self-denying in their
religious discipline, for in 1120 the Serjiens or Servientes of the
hospital formed themselves for such purposes into a separate
monastic body under the direct protection of the Church of Rome.
But about the same time a little band of knights, nine in number,
began to distinguish themselves by their zeal and courage in the
performance of a duty self-imposed, but of the most dangerous and
important character. They had devoted themselves, life and fortune,
to the defence of the high roads leading to Jerusalem, where the
Christian pilgrims were continually harassed and injured by the
warlike onslaught of the INIussulmen and the predatory attacks of
robbers. " Poor fellow-soldiers of Jesus Christ" they called them-
selves; and poor enough indeed they were, since their chief, Hugh
de Payens, was constrained to ride with another knight on the
same horse : a memorable incident, which the Order, with noble
pride, commemorated in their seal. Such services spoke eloquently
to every one. Golden opinions were speedily won. The poor
knights soon became rich knights. The little body began speedily
to grow into a large one. As a special honour they were lodged,
by the church, on the site of the great Hebrew Temple, and the
fame of the " Knighthood of the Temple of Solomon " began to
spread through Christian Europe. Amid the general excitement
of the Holy Wars this junction of the priest and soldier seemed but
a most happy embodiment of the prevailing passions, duties, and
wants of the age (Fig. 544). Thus, when Hugh de Payens himself
set out on a tour with four of the brethren, in order to promulgate
more distinctly the objects of the Society, and to seek assistance,

great was the interest and excitement that prevailed wherever they
came. They arrived in England iti 1128, and were received with the
deepest respect by Henry the First and his court. Tiie result of
these travels was, that when the four brethren returned to Jerusalem
they brought with them in company three hundred of the best and
bravest of European chivalry. The new Society was evidently
moving the Christian world ; what wonder that the monks of St.
John felt themselves at last moved too — in the same direction.
Within a few years after De Payens' return, and during the spiritual
rule of Eaymond du Puy, they took up the lance, and rushed forth
into the field in livalry of the brotherhood of the Temple. And
between the warlike merit of the two, the knights who had become
monks, and the monks who had become knights, it would evidently
be impossible to decide; both were the flower of the Christian
armies, and the especial dread of the Saracen. The military annals
of no country or time exhibit deeds that can surpass, few even that can
rival, the prodigies of valour continually performed by these warrior
monks. But with wealth, corruption, as usual, flowed in. "When
one Order (the Templars) possessed nine thousand manors, and the
other nineteen thousand, in the fairest provinces of Christendom, it
would be too much to expect that humility would long continue to
characterize either. The first evidence of the evil spirit that was at
work in their hearts was exhibited in their mutual quarrels, which
at last grew to such a height that they actually turned their arms
ag.ainst each other; and even on one occasion, in 1259, fought a
pitched battle, in which the Knights Hospitallers were the conouerors,
and scarcely left a Templar alive to carry to his brethren the in-
telligence of their discomfiture. This was an odd way to exhibit
the beauties of the faith they were shedding so much blood and ex-
pending so much treasure to establish among the Saracens, and
scarcely calculated to convince the infidel even of the military
necessity of acknowledging or giving way to it. The fact is that
the decline of the Christian power in the Holy Land may be traced,
in a great measure, to these miserable jealousies : it may be doubted
whether the two Orders did not, on the whole, retard rather than
promote the cause they espoused. But let us now look at their position
in this country. The first houses of both were established in London,
and nearly about the same time, the Priory of St. John at Clerken-
well in 1 100, by Jordan Briset, an English Baron, and his wife ; and
the Old Temple in Ilolborn (where Southampton Buildings now
exist) founded during the visit of Hugh de Payens, twenty-eight
years later. As the Templars, however, increased in numbers and
wealth, they purchased the site of the present Temple in Fleet
Street, and erected their beautiful church and other corresponding
buildings on a scale of great splendour. Both this church and the
church of St. John, Clerkenwell, were consecrated by Heraclius,
Patriarch of Jerusalem, whom events of no ordinary nature brought
to this country ; events which threatened to involve something like
the entire destruction of the Christians and their cause in the Holy
Land, if immediate succour was not granted by some most potent
authority. "With Heraclius came the Masters of the two Orders ;
and the hopes of the trio, it appears, were centred on the King of
England, who had, on receiving absolution for the murder of
Becket, promised not only to maintain two hundred Templars at
his own expense, but also to proceed to Palestine himself at the
head of a vast army. At first all looked very encouraging. Henry
met them at Reading, wept as he listened to their sad narration of
the reverses experienced in Palestine, and, in answer to their prayers
for support, promised to bring the matter before parliament imme-
diately on its meeting. In that assembly, however, the barons
urged upon him that he was bound by his coronation oath to stay
at home and fulfil his kingly duties, but offered to raise funds to
defray the expense of a levy of troops, expressing at the same time
their opinion that English nobles and others might, if they wished,
freely depart for Palestine to join the Christian warriors. Henry with
apparent reluctance agreed; and "lastly, the king gave answer,
and said that he might not leave his land without keeping, nor yet
leave it to the prey and robbery of Frenchmen. But he would
give largely of his own to such as would take upon them that
voyage. "With this answer the Patriarch was discontented, and
said, ' We seek a man, and not money ; well near every Christian
region sendeth unto us money, but no land sendeth to us a prince.
Therefore we ask a prince that needeth money, and not money that
needeth a prince.' But the king laid for him such excuses, that the
Patriarch departed from him discontented and comfortless; whereof
the king being advertised, intending somewhat to recomfort him
with pleasant words, followed liim unto the seaside. But the more
the king thought to satisfy him with his fair speech, the more the
Patriarch was discontented, insomuch that, at the last, he said unto
him, ' Hitherto thou hast reigned gloriously, but hereafter thou

ixlonrnM, n»i>rifiiK«

INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE CHURCH.

Chap. II.]

OLD ENGLAND.

148

shalt be forsaken of Ilim whom thou at thi« time foriuikeKt, Think
on lliin, what lie hath given to tliee, and what thou ha»t yielded to
Him again; how fiMt tliou wert false to the King of France, and
after slew tiiat iioly man, Thomas of Cantcil)nry ; and lastly tliou
forsakest tlic protection of Christian faith.' The king was moved
with thi'so words, and Niid unto the Patriarch, ' Tiiough all the
men of my land were one body and xpake with one mouth, they
durst not speak to me such words.' ' No wonder,' faid the Pa-
triarch, ' for tiiey love thine, and not tiiee; that i« to mean, they
love thy goods temponil, and fear thee for loss of promotion ; but
they love not thy soul.' And when he had so said he offered his
head to the king, saying, ' Do by me right as thou didst by that
Lloscd man, Thomas of Cantcrlniry ; for I had liever to be slain
of thee than of the Saracens, for thou art worse than any Saracen.'
But tlie king kept his patience, and said, ' I may not wend out of
my land, for my own sons will arise against me wiien I am absent.'
' No wonder,' said the I'atriarch, ' for of the devil they come, and
to the devil they shall go ;' and so departed from the king in great
ire." (Fabyan.) Two years later, Saladin had put an end to the
Christian kingdom at Jerusalem, generously dismissing to their
homes his many distinguislied prisoners, among whom was Heraclius,
and granting to the Christians generally of Europe the pwsscssion
of the sepulchre of Christ. I lis liberality experienced no suitable
return. A third Crusade was set on foot, the one in which Coeur-
de-Lion was engaged, to fail like the previous ones, to be again
followed by others, with the same result. In 1291 Acre was
besieged by the Sultan of Egypt, and taken after a most terrible
conflict, in which the two Orders were nearly exterminated : that
event in effect may be said to mark the final defeat of the Crusaders
in their long-cherished object of the conquest of the Holy Land.

The Knights of St. John, however, for about two centuries after
this, found ample employment of a kind after their own heart ;
they obtained possession of the island of Rhodes, from whence they
kept up continual war, — of a very piratical character, though, be it
observed, — against the Turks; but in 1522 Solyman the Fourth, or
the Magnificent, afler a tremendous siege, in which he is said to
have lost upwards of 100,000 men, completely overpowered the
defenders, although they fought with a courage that won his re-
spect, and induced liini to consent at last that the Grand-master,
L'Isle Adam, and his surviving companions, might depart freely
whithersoever they chose. He visited his illustrious captive on
entering the city, and was heard to remark as he left him, " It is
not without pain that I force this Cliristian, at his time of life, to
leave his dwelling." The Emperor Charles the Fifth then bestowed
on them the island of Malta, which they fortified with works that
render it to this day almost impregnable, but where, after success-
fully resisting a most formidable attack from the Turkish troops of
Solyman, they gradually fell into a mode of life very different from
that which had previously characterized them, and which was
suddenly brought to a very ignominious conclusion by the appear-
ance of Napoleon, leading his Egj'ptian expedition, in 1798, and
by his landing without opposition, through the mingled treachery
and cowardice of the knights ; who, however, received their reward :
the Order itself was then virtually abolished. It is not unworthy
of notice, as evidence of the amazing strength of the place, as well
as of the feeling of the French officers at so disgraceful a surrender,
that one of them, Caffarelli, said to Napoleon, as they examined the
works, " It is well, General, that some one was within to open the
gate for us. We should have had some difficulty in entering had
the place been altogether empty." A Grand-master and a handful
of knights, it seems, do still exist at Ferrara, and possess a scanty
remnant of the once magnificent revenue. The Templars experienced
a more tragical, but also infinitely more honourable termination of
their career, and one that redeemed a thousand faults and vices.
Within twenty years after their conduct and misfortunes at the
siege of Acre had entitled them to the sympathy of their Christian
brethren throughout the world, they were suddenly charged in
France with the commission of a multitude of crimes, religious and
social ; and to convince them that they were guilty, whether they
knew it or not, tortures of the most frightful description were un-
sparingly applied to make them confess. One who did confess,
when he was brought before the commissary of police to be ex-
amined, at once revoked his confession, saying, " They held me so
long before a fierce fire, that the flesli was burnt off my heels ; two
pieces of bone came away, which I present to you." Such were
the execrable cruellies perpetrated on the unhappy Templars in
France, where they were also sent to the scaffold in troops, and
thus at last the Order was made tractable in that country. In
England there was greater decency at least observed. If the
torture was applied at all, it was but sparingly, and the confession

obtained wa< at laat reduced to so very iniioe«at an aUkir, tlaU no
man woidd have been jnntifii-d in Mcrificing life and limb in KibU
ance ; so the Templars wisely gave way. All rostten thut pi«.
I>ared, the Pope in 1312 formally abolithed the Order; and lb«a
the world saw the trutli of what it had before suipecled, namely,
that all these atrocious proceeding* were but to clrar the way for
a general scramble for the enormous property of the Order, in which
the chief actors were of course (he lovereipts of France and
England and the Pontiff. 'I'hey had tried to |)cnuade thems«>Kca
or their subjects that the rival order of St. John's was to iiave the
possessions in question, and they were nominally confIrm«-d to it :
but about a twentieth of the whole was all tiiat the Knights Hoa-
pitallers ever obtaine<l.

Of the two churches consecrated by Heraclius in London, that
of the Temple alone remains. St. John's was burnt, with all the
surrounding buildings of the priory, by the followers of Wat Tyler in
the fourteenth century, when the conflagration continued for no Ian
than seven days. The Temple had been previously injured by then
on account of its being considered to belong to the obnoxious Hoa-
pitallers. We see from Hollar's view of the .priory in the seven-
teenth century (Fig. 541), that previous to the dissolution by Henry
the Eighth it had recovered much of its ancient magnificence.
But in the reign of Edward the Sixth the " church, for the most
part," siiys Stow, " to wit, the body and side aisles, with the gr^t
bell-tgwer (a most curious piece of workmanship, graven, gilt, and
enamelled, to the great beautifying of the city, and passing all
other that I have seen), was undermined and blown up with gun-
powder; the stone whereof was employed in building of the Lord
Protector's house in the Strand." The remains of the choir form
at present a portion of the parochial church of Clerkenwell. But
there is another relic of the priory, the gateway (Fig. 542), which
Johnson " beheld with reverence," and which hissuccesaoracan hardly
look on without a kindred sentiment, were it on his account alone;
for here it was that Johnson came to Cave, the publisher of the
' Gentleman's Magazine,' to reek and obtain employment, being at
the time poor, friendless, and unknown ; nay, so very poor, that he
sat behind the screen to eat his dinner, instead of at the printer's
table, in order to conceal his shabby coat. The principal part of
the gateway now forms the Jerusalem Tavern. The groined roof
of tlie gate has been restoretl of late years. But we now turn to a
remain of the rival metropolitan house of the Templars, which is
of a very much more important character.

No one probably ever beheld the exterior of the Temple Church
(Fig. 538), for the first time, without finding his curiosity at least ex-
cited to know the meaning of its peculiar form, that round — half for-
tress, half chapter-house like — structure, with such a beautiful oh long
Gothic church body attached to it at one side. That the second
was added to the first at a later period is sufficiently evident ; but
we are puzzled by the " Bound " as it is called, till we begin to re-
member who were its founders : the men whose lives were spent in
the Holy Land, in a continual alternation of fighting and devotion ;
whose houses there were one day a place of worship, the next of
attack and defence. Such, no doubt, were the origin of the Bound
churches of England, of which we possess but three others.

The restoration of these fine old works of our forefathers promises
to become a marked feature of the present time ; and if so, there will
be one especial labour of the kind, truly a labour of love to those
who have been concerned in it, that will stand out from all the reat,
as the grand exemplar of the true spirit that should animate restorers.
When the Benchers of the Temple began their noble task, they found
nearly all that was left of the original building, walls only excepted,
in a state of decay, and everything that was not original, without any
exception, worthless. Thus the elaborately-beautiful sculpture of
the low Norman doorway, which leads from the quaint porch (Fig.
534) into the interior of the Round, was in a great measure lost ;
now we see it again in all its pristine splendour. The airy clustered
columns of Purbeck marble, which, standing in a wide circle, support
with their uplifted, uniting, and arching arms the roof of the Round
(Fig. 535), v»ere no longer trustworthy ; so they had to be removed
entirely, and new ones, at an immense expense, provided ; and the
ancient quarry at Purbeck, from which so much marble must have
been drawn in the middle ages for the erection of our cathedrals, was
again opened on the occasion. Everything through the whole church
was covered witn coating upon coating of whitewash ; consequently,
all traces were lost of the gilding and colour that had been everywhere
expended with a lavish hand, and which now again relieve the
walls, in the forms of pious inscnptions in antique letters, which
glow in the roofs of the Round and of the Chancel, and which gra-
dually increase into a perfect blaze of splendour towards and around
the altar (Fig. 532). The beautiful junction of the two parts of th»

650.— Tbc Cijoir, St. Mary Overies.

646.— General View of St. Mary Overie?,fix)m the South,

549.— Templar, St. Mary Overiei.

648.— Gower's Monvment.

546. — Norman Arch, St. ^tary Overic--.

144

» ^^^M

sua. - KInlul*, Cuilerbury.

15;.- C'nriinl. Crypt, Canterbury

553. — Bise, Cn-pt, Canterbury.

rC'J, -Caliit.il. Canterbury,

656. — Arcbl>'|.l-. i. .; i ii ur, < ' tnt/rbtiry.

'■ ■■)")""""» *

i.-CrackMit Omntaiy.

CS>.— Cq>ltiL CiTpl. raiit«tb«i7

M>.—Baae. 6S- TnsMpI, CwMtlivf;

si.-CapltaL ^G.TnMrpt.ChBtaitar7.

li.. N.L. l; ul ^-i;.:^;! u:y dUui;-,,

655.— Canterburj

,^53j^^^^^^^

666 —Foot, Cantnbnry

BirV?:

^4.— Umlertrai; (btbetal bdoK

"N'a 1<)

the Tom vh Bcboilt
145

146

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book IL

entire structure was then concealed by a barbarous screen of tlie age
of Charles the Second, that extended right across between them, and
over which was placed the organ ; now, once more, theeye ranges
along without interruption from the entrance door up to the very altar
(Fig. 531), through one of the most beautiful of vistas, and the organ
has been removed into a chamber, constructed expressly outside the
central window of the chancel, on the north side ; the window itself,
by slight but judicious alterations, forming a beautiful open screen,
through which the chamber communicates with the cliurch. Then,
again, the monuments of all kinds but the beautiful, which were
formerly let into the very body of the pillars, or placed in other
equally incongruous positions, have been removed into the triforium
or gallery of the Round; warm, rich-looking tiles have replaced
the wooden pavement ; gorgeous stained-glass windows again diffuse
their magnificent hues upon every object around, and tell in their
" panes " the story of Him who died that all might live. In a word,
Che Temple Church now presents, in most respects, an almost per-
fect example, on a small scale, of what the grand ecclesiastical
structures of the thirteenth century were generally ; that is, a con-
summate and most magical union of all the arts, architecture, paint-
ing, sculpture, and music, calculated at once to take man from tlie
world that they might guide him to heaven. With one individual
feature of the Temple, we must now conclude our notice of it. On
the floor of the Round lie the sculptured efRgies of men who belonged
to the period of Old England which we have at present under re-
view, and which, as being undoubted originals, are among the most
interesting pieces of sculpture we possess (Figs 536, 537). They have
lately been restored, with remarkable success, by Mr. Richardson —
having become seriously decayed — and now present to us, each in his
habit as he lived — Geoffrey de Magneville, that bold and bad baron
of the time of Stephen ; who, dying excommunicate, was for a time
hung upon a tree in the Temple Garden here — the great Protector,
Pembroke, who, by his wisdom, assuaged the divisions among his
countrymen after the death of John — the Protector's sons, William
and Gilbert, the former sheathing his sword ; he had fought, and
well, but his race was done ; the latter drawing it in the service,
as he intended, of God in Palestine, when death stopped the journey
— and, among others, De Roos, one of the barons to whom the
bloodless field of Runnymede has given undying reputation ; the
exquisitely-beauliful effigy, with the head uncovered, and the curling
locks flowing about it, represent that nobleman. These pieces
of sculpture were originally, like all the others in the Temple,
painted and gilded. We cannot here avoid drawing attention to
the head of a seraph, discovered on the wall between the Round and
the oblong part of the church during the restoration. The expres-
.sion is truly seraphic. Traces of colour are even now perceptible ;
the cheeks and lips have once borne the natural hues of life, the
pupil of the eye has been painted blue, the hair gilded. In other
heads, also original, the eyes were found to be of glass. How all
this reminds one of the customs that prevailed among the Greeks,
where some of the most beautiful works the world had ever seen, or
would ever see, were thought to be enhanced by means like those we
have described.

The very magnificent character of the restoration of the Temple
Church, London, has been attended with one undesirable effect — it
lias drawn away our attention from other labours of a similar and
only less important character. Such, for instance, is the restoration
of the Round Church of Cambkidge, the oldest of the structures,
erected in England in the extraordinary circular form (Figs. 539 and
540). And what gives still higher interest to this building is the fact
alleged that it was consecrated in tlie year 1101, or several years be-
fore the institution of the Order of Kniglit Templars ; so that it can
hardly be attributed to them. In a paper recently read before the
Camden Society, the church is supposed to have been founded by
some one interested in the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre at Jeru-
salem, hence the imitation of the form of that building, and the name ;
and that the object in view was to make provision for the constant
prayers for the sucefess of the Crusaders. We learn from the same
pages some other interesting matters. The parish has been tradition-
ally known as the Jewry, which designation, it is supposed, was given
to it in consequence of the model of the most sacred of Jewish struc-
tures being placed in it. The stained glass votive window, with a
saintly figure, wliich attracts the eyes of visitx)rs to tlie restored
church, it appears, preserves the memory of Bede's legendary resi-
dence in the vicinity. Of the restoration of this important structure
it is hardly possible to speak too highly. The entire funds, with the
exception of some £1,600 still required, have been raised by volun-
tary subscription, and expended by a little band of ardent and
reverential lovers of all that is antique, grand, or beautiful in

our ecclesiastical arcliitecture. The Camden Society especially
stands conspicuous in the good work, whicli has been carried on, we
are sorry to learn, through " repeated interruptions and obstruc-
tions," and which ha.s — a common case — proved a much more
elaborate and costly task than was anticipated. The substantial
reparation of the decayed fabric was the object the committee set
before themselves ; and, much as these words include, it seems that
they have found it necessary to add the enlargement of one aisle,
the entire erection of another, a new bell-turret, "breaking-up
the unsightly uniformity of the rest of the building," the entire fit-
ting of the church with open seats and other necessary furniture in
carved oak ; and, lastly, the beautiful east window. They have thus
involved themselves in deb', to the amount before stated, but we do
not think they will have relied in vain on tlie public sympathy and
assistance. The stately solemn-looking fabric, so eloquent of those
mighty primeval artists, those architectural giants of our early his-
tory, who " dreamt not of a perishable home " when they dedicated
their skill and cunning to the service of the Almighty, appears
again fresh as it were from their very hands. The restoration was
completed and the church given up to the parish authorities on the
last day of the year 1843, when a statement was made to the world,
concerning which great is yet the clamour in local and theological
publications. It was discovered that the restorers had erected a
slono altar, instead of a wooden one, and that they had placed a
credence — a stone shelf or table — for the display of the elements of
the Sacrament. We leave the facts for our readers to weep over,
or smile at, as they may see occasion.

Of another of the establishments of the Templars, the Preceptory
AT SwiNGFiELD, sltuated about eight miles from Dover, and in
which John is said to have resigned his crown to the Pope's Legate,
but little now remains, and that is used as a farmhouse, while the
foundations may be traced in various parts of the homestead. The
eastern part, which was the most ancient (the Preceptory was
founded before 119^), exhibits three lancet-shaped windows, above
which are the same number of circular ones, and was probably the
chapel (Fig. 543J.

A few years ago, when the approaclies to the new London Bridge
were in preparation, an agreement was proposed, and all but con-
cluded, that a space of some sixty feet should be granted for the
better display of an old church on the Southwark side, and that a
certain chapel belonging to the latter, should be at the same time
swept away. The church in question, in short, was to be made as
neat and snug as possible, as a fitting preliminary to the new display
that it was to be permitted to make. There were persons, however,
who by no means approved of the scheme. They said that the
Chapel of our Ladye (Fig. 547), which was sought to be destroyed,
was one of the most beautiful and antique structures of the kind in
England. There were some, even, who held that the fact, that the
honoured ashes of good Bishop Andrew s lay in it (Bishop Andrews,
whose death drew from Milton, no bishop-lover generally, a most pas-
sionate elegy), ought to make the place sacred. All this, no doubt,
seemed very nonsensical to the framers of the plan in question, who,
quietly appealed to the parishioners of St. Saviour's, and obtained the
sanction of a large majority to the destruction of the Ladye Cliapel.
But the persons before mentioned were exceedingly obstinate. They
would not be quiet. The Press then took up the matter, and strove
might and main to forward the views of these malcontents. At
another meeting of the parishioners, the " destructives," to borrow
a political phrase, found their majority had dwindled down to three ;
and, what was infinitely worse, on a poll being demanded, they were
left in a minority of between two and three hundred — the beautiful
Ladye Chapel and Bishop Andrews' grave were safe. The work-
men not long after entered, but it was to restore, not to destroy.
Many, no doubt, owe their first personal acquaintance with, if not
their first knowledge of the Church of St. Mary Overies to the
circumstances here narrated, and have been at once surprised and
delighted to find so noble and interesting a structure (as beautiful
and almost as large as a cathedral) in such a place — the Borough.
And when they have been thus led to inquire into the history of the
building, their pleasure has been as unexpectedly enhanced. The
story of its origin is a tale of romance ; poetical associations of no
ordinary character attach to its subsequent annals ; holj' martyrs
have passed from the dread tribunal sitting within its walls to the
fiery agony of the stake at Smithfield. Stow's account of the origin
of St. Mary Overies, derived from Linsted, its last prior, is as fol-
lows : — " This church, or some other in place thereof, was of old
time, long before the Conquest, a House 'f Sisters, founded by a
maiden named Mary. Unto the wliich house and sisters she left (as
was left her by her parents) llic oversight and profits of a cross

CUAP. II. I

OLD ENGLAND.

147

ferry over the Thames, tliere kept before that any bridge was builded.
This House of Sisters was afterwards, by Switiiin, a noble lady,
converted into a College of Priests, who, in place of the ferry, builded
a bridge of timber." Sometiiing like corroboiative evidence of the
truth of this story was accidentally discovered a few years ago: —
•' Wlien digginjf for a family vault in the centre of the choir of the
church, near the altar, it was found necessary to cut through a very
ancient foundation wall, which never could iiave formed any part of
the present edifice: the edifice exactly corresponds with that of the
House of Sisters " described by Stow as near the east piirt of the
l>resent St. Mary Overies, ♦' above the choir," and where he says
Mary was buried.

In a wooden box, in the choir, now lies a reiparkably fine effigy,
of wood, of a Crusader: who he was it is impossible to tell with
any certainty, but we venture to think it represents ' one of the two
distinguished persons to wliom St. Mary Overies was next largely
indebted after the humble ferryman's daughter, and the proud lady,
Swithin : those two are, " "William Pont de I'Arche and William
Dauncy, Knights, Normans," who, in tlie year HOG, refounded the
establishments, on a more magnificent scale, for canons regular
(Fig. 546). This Pont de I'Arche was probably the same as the
royal treasurer of that name in the beginning of the reign of Kufus.
And as carrying still further the records of the connection between
St. Mury Overies and the ferry first, and afterwards the bridge, it ap-
pears from a passage in Maitland (vol. i. p. 44, ed. 1756), that Wil-
liam Pont de I'Arche, whom we have just seen as the founder of the
first, was also connected with the last. If we are right in presuming
the Templar to be one of these " Knights, Normans," tliere can be no
doubt too that originally there was also tiie effigy of the other (Fig.
549) : the destructive fires that have from time to time injured the
structure explains its absence. There are two curious low-arched
niches on the north aisle of the choir: were not these the restina-
places of the founders of the priory p We venture to think so, and
have placed tlie Templar in one of them. Aldgo<l, we may observe,
was tlie first prior of St. JMary Overies. By the fourteenth century,
the buildings had become dilapidated ; a poet, Gower, restored them ;
or at least contributed the principal portion of the funds. Gower was
married in St. Mary Overies in 1397 : and there was at one time a
monument to his wife's memory, as well as to his own : the last alone
now survives (Fig. 548). This is an exquisitely beautiful work,
which has been most admirably restored to all its pristine splendour,
and where the quaint rhyming inscriptions in Norman French appear
in gay colours, and the efiigy of the poet appears radiant in colour
and gilding. His head rests on tliree gilded volumes of his writiugs ;
one of them is tlie ' Confessio Amautis,' his principal and only pub-
lished work, the origin of which he thus relates : —

In Thcmse [Thames] when it was flowonde.

As I by bout came rowend.

So as Fortune her time set

My liege lord perchance I met ;

And so befel as I came nigh

Out of my boat, when he me sigh [saw],

He bad mo to come into his barge,

And when I was with Iiim at large

Amongcs other things he said.

He hath this charge upon me laid.

And bade mo do my business.

That to his high worthiness

Somo newo thing I should book.

King Richard the Second's wishes were fulfilled in the ' Confessio
Amantis.'

On the pillar seen in our engraving of Gower's monument ap-
pears a cardinal's hat, with arms beneath. They refer directly, no
doubt, to the beneficence of a very remarkable man. Cardinal Beau-
fort, Bishop of Winchester, and who in that capacity resided in the
adjoining palace, but indirectly to still more interesting matters, in
which the busy cardinal had the principal share. AViio has not
read, and treasured up ever in tlie memory after, the history of the
jioet king, James of Scotland, he who, taken a prisoner wiiilst yet a
boy, was kept for niaiiy long years in aiptivity, but educated in the
mean time ki a truly princel; manner ; he who, as he has informed
us in his own sweet verse, wliiist looking out upon the garden which
lay before his window, in Windsor Castle, beheld

walking under tlio tower.

Full secretly new coming her to plain,
The fairest and the freshest youngo flower
That ever he saw, methought, before that hour,

aud « ho from that time was no longer heart-whole ; he who in all
probability was only allowed to free himself from one kind of bond-
age in order to enter into another, but then that was his marriage
Willi the lady in question, Jane Beaufort, the cardinal's niece ; — w ho

but has been charmed by thu roinaiice of reality ? It b •omeUiiog
then to bo able to add, for the honour of St. Mary Overic*, that it
was within its walLt that the ceremony took place. We Diay a<i(l to
the foregoing |K>etical reminisceDcea, two or three brief, but preg-
naot seniencoii, all derived from the tame authority, the pariab re-
gisters. Under the year 1G07 we read, " K<lmond Shdcapeie, player,
in the church ;" and tliat turns up the known bictory of one of the
great dramatbt's brothers. The date 1G25 records, "Mr. Juha
Fletcher, a man, in the church ;" of wboae perMmal history we
know little more. Aubrey thus relates hif death; *'Ia the great
plague of 1625, a knight of Norfolk or Suffolk invited him into the
country : he stayed but to make himself a suit of clotbes, and Mhile
it was making, fell tick and died ; this I lieard from the taylor,
who is now a very old man and clerk of St. Mary Overy." Lastly
comes the most striking entry of all in connection with tlie year
1640: " Philip Massinger, a stranger." Let m leave the patMge^
without comment, in all its awful brevity.

The priory was dissolved in 1539, when Linsted, the prior, was
pensioned off with 100/. a year. Thq annual reveuie was then
valued at 624/. 6s. 6d.

During Wyatt's insurrection in 1554, the insurrectionary troop*
were posted in Southwark, and the Lieutenant of the Tower bent hif
ordnance against the foot of the bridge to hinder the passage, and bIk
against the towers of St. Olave's and St. Mary Overie* churclies.
One year afterwards still deadlier weapons were directed against the
faith to which St. Mary's belonged, and by its own friend*, though
in the hope of benefiting it ; then was clearly seen the reulity of tlic
dangers Wyatt had apprehended, and strove, but unsucceskfully, to
avert, in the sittings of a commi.'<sion in the church, for the trial of
those diabolical offenders who dared to have an opinion of theii
own. Among them first came John Rogers, a prel)endary of St.
Paul's, who, when questioned by the judge, Bishop Gardiner, asked,
" Did you not yourself, for twenty years, pray against the PopeT'
" I was forced by cruelty," was the reply. " And will you use the
like cruelty to us?" rejoined Rogers. Of course he went to the
stake, Bonner refusing him permission to speak to his wife. Bishop
Hooper, who was also tried on the same day, was dismissed to the
like fate. John Bradford, another of the victims of the St. Maiy
Overies commission, writing, somewliat about this time, of the death
of Hooper, says, " This day, I think, or to-morrow at the utter-
most, hearty Hooper, sincere Saunders, and trusty Taylor, end their
course, and receive their crown. The next am I, which hourly
look for the porter to open me the gate after them, to enter into the
desired rest."

The plan of St. Mary Overies is that of a cross, the principal
part of which is formed by the Lady Chapel, choir and nave ex-
tending from east to west nearly 300 feet; and crossed by the
transept near the centre, where rises the majestic tower, 150 feet
high. The Anglo-Norman choir (Fig. 550) and transept still remain,
and present a fine specimen of the transition state between tlie com-
paratively rude aud massive structures of the eleventh century, and
the more elegant and stately productions of the thirteenth. Thii
portion of the church is now unused ; and the pews have consequently
been removed. The nave was found a few years ago in so ruinous
a state, that it became necessary either to restore it, for which suffi-
cient funds could not be obtained, or build on the site of it a less
expensive structure to be used as the parish church, and which
should, in some degree at least, harmonize in style with the rest
of the pile. The new nave has been rebuilt; but not with suc^
success as to prevent our deep regret for the loss of the old one
Our engraving (Fig. 545) exhibits the church as it was before th
rebuilding in question took place. The part nearest the eye shows
the old nave. Many objects of interest are to be found in the inte-
rior, in addition to those already incidentally mentioned ; the screen,
for instance, a most elaborate aud beautiful piece of sculpture, pre-
sumed to have been erected by Bbhop Fox, as the pelican, his
favourite device, is seen in the cornice. It consists of four stories
of niches for statues, divided by spaces, from which project half-
length figures of angels. Eight up the centre, from the bottom to
the top, extend three larger niches, one above another, in the place
of the four smaller ones that are found in every other part of the
screen; these give harmony, completeness, and grandeur to the
whole. Ornament in profusion extends over every part. It will
be seen that the screen forms one mass of the richest sculpture ; and
this, loo, is a work of restoration of our own times. The monu-
mental sculpture of St. Mary Overies is particularly curious and
interesting, much of it being painted, with the effigies resembling
the natural tints of life both' in countenance and costume ; much of
it also referring to interesting personages ; and accompanied in some
cases by inscriptions which provoke a smile by their quaintne», "r

^^ 2

STO^Baius of the AugwUM HaautMj at GtaMtbin7.

573.— KuiDS of the IMor; of Undiafarn.

673.— Abbey Qatewaj-, Bristol, .\ncient WioJow resturcJ.

i7l<— St. AnguUiK'a UaU; Ckolcrtnix.

150

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book IL

& sigh by their mournful beauty. Two specimens must suffice to
conclude our present notice. On the tomb of a grocer, formerly in
the Ladye Chapel, was inscribed,

■\Veep not for liim, since he is gone before

To heaven, where grocers there are many more.

On the very large magnificent piece of monumental sculpture which
encloses tlie remains of Richard Humble, alderman of London, liis
two wives, and his children, we read tlie ibllowing lines, forming part
of a poem attributed to Francis Quarles : —

Like to the damask rose you see,
Or like the blossom on the tree ;
Or like tho dainty flower of May,
Or like the morning of the day ;
Or like the sun or like tlie sliade,
Or like tho gourd wliich Jonas had.

Even so is the man, whose thread is spun,

Drawn out, and ciit, and so is done.
The rose withers, tlie blossom blasteth.
The flower fades, the morning hasteth ;
The sun sets, the shadow flies.
The gourd consumes, and Man he dies.

If Glastonbury may be assumed to have been the spot where the
faith of Christ was first expoimded to our heathen forefathers, it is
certain that it v.'as at Canterbury that it first exhibited all the
marks of success, and gave promise of becoming in no very distant
period the general religion of the country. There were first heard
the teachings of St. Augustine, who may almost be esteemed the
real founder of Christianity among us, so great were his acliieve-
ments in comparison with all that had been done before ; — and
there are yet existing two buildings, or jjarts of buildings, the walls
of which may have often echoed with tlie earnest and lofty elo-
quence of the illustrious apostle. One of these is St. Martin's
Church, already noticed (vol. i. p. 58) : he who would visit the
remains of the other, which dispute priority even with St. Martin's
itself, must inquire for the crypt or undercroft of Canterbury
Cathedral. It is a place that would repay ai:y one for a careful and
protracted examination, if the guardians of the sacred edifice had
not chosen to shut it up for some twenty years, and to make it a
hiding-place for lumber and rubbish. Let the indignation of Eng-
land call witli a loud voice that this crypt shall cease to be dese-
crated. .Nothing more eminently characteristic of the times of
its erection perhaps exists in the island. The walls are without
ornament, and in that respect contrast strongly with the pillars,
upon which the Saxon architect has expended all his fancy.
"When Ethelbert gave Augustine and his companions leave to settle
in the capital of his kingdom, Canterbury, we know, from Bede,
that there was a small church existing in the city, which had been
previously used for Christian worship, and which must have been then
of some age, for Augustine found it necessary to repair and enlarge
it. That was the cliurch which, it is supposed, Augustine raised
to the rank it has ever since maintained of the first English
cathedral, and that is the church of which these rude nnorna-
mented walls of the crypt probably yet form an existing me-
morial. For although it was made little better thau a ruin by the
Danes in 938, and again, after reparation by Odo, brought to a
similar state by the same people in 1011 ; though Canute's ex-
tensive restorations were also followed by scarcely less extensive
injuries after his decease, and during the early days of the Con-
quest ; and though, lastly, during the Conqueror's reign, Lanfranc
rebuilt the whole almost from the foundation, we still perceive,
during all these repairs and restorations, something like evidence of
parts of the walls and foundations having been left untouched ; no
doubt in consequence of their exceedingly massive and inde-
structible character. Tliese walls, in short, if we read their liistory
aright, speak to \is, in all their simplicity, of a time approaching
within a century or two of the life of the Saviour himself, to wliom
they have been so long dedicated, and of builders whose handiwork
can hardly be mistaken for the labour of any other people in what-
ever part of the world found — the Romans, who are supposed to
have built it for the use of their Christian soldiers.

Turning from the plain walls to the curiously-decorated pillars,
we evidently pass over several centuries of architectural history.
A strange mixture of the simple and the rude with the elaborate
and the fantastical do these pillars present, not only in their super-
ficial ornaments, but in their very form ; some are wreathed or
twisted, some round, and no two, either of the shafts, or of the
capitals, are alike (Figs. 557, 558, and 559). A distinguishing
feature of Norman architecture, visible even in its latest and most
beautiful stages, namely, breadth and strength, rather than height
and siiteliness, is here most strikingly developed. The circum-

ference of the shafts is about four feet, and the entire height o(
plinth, shaft, and capital is only six feet and a half; from these pillars
rise arches of corresponding span, supporting the roof at the altitude
of fourteen feet ; the quaint and stunted, yet massive aspect of the
place, may from this brief description be readily imagined. Tc
determine the date of the later portions with any precision is ini
possible ; but there is little question that they belong to a period
anterior to the Conquest.

A building thus surrounded by the holiest and most endearing
associations was, of course, a continual object of improvement ;
scarcely one of its prelates but seems to have done something in
the way of rebuilding or enlarging ; a fact strikingly attested by
the variety of styles the cathedral now exhibits, even to the least
architecturally instructed eyes. Thus while Lanfranc, the Nor-
man, who succeeded Stigand, the Saxon arclibisliop, in the see, is
understood to have left the whole essentially finished, we find
Anselm and others of his successors not the less busily at work,
pulling down here, and adding there ; and such labours of love were
not confined to the archbishops, for it seems that Conrad, a prior of
the adjoining monastery, was allowed to participate in them ; who
accordingly improved the choir so greatly that the part was for
some time afterwards known by his name. But a new and more
solemn interest was to invest those walls, than even that derived
from their early history. In the second half of the twelfth century,
Thomas-a-Becket was the archbishop, and a troubled period did
this prelacy become both for the see and England generally. The
struggle for supremacy between the royal and the ecclesiastical
powers was then at its height : and for a time the former appeared
to have triumphed. The beginning of the year 1170 found Becket
the resolute assertor of all the rights and privileges of the church,
in his seventh year of exile : but unshaken, uncompromising as ever.
At last, in July of the same year, the King, Henry the Second,
fearing Becket would obtain from the Pope the power of excommu-
nicating the whole kingdom, agreed to a reconciliation, and the two
potentates met on the Continent ; the king holding Becket's stirrup
as he mounted his horse. The archbishop now prepared for his
return. But many warnings of danger reached him. Among
others, was one to the etfect that Ranulf de Broc, the possessor of
a castle within six miles of Canterbury, who had sworn that he
would not let the archbishop eat a single loaf of bread in England,
was lying in wait, with a body of soldiers, between Canterbury and
Dover. The determined spirit of Becket was revealed in his reply.
Having remarked that seven years of absence were long enough for
both shepherd and flock, he declared he would not stop though he
was sure to be cut to pieces as soon as he landed on the opposite coast.
But if he had powerful enemies among tlie nobles and chief ecclesi-
astics, he had the great body of the people for his friends. As he
was about to embark, an English vessel arrived ; and the sailors were
asked as to the feelings of the English towards the archbishop ;
they replied that he would be received with transports of joy. He
landed at Sandwich on the 1st of December, and he ,vas not disap-
pointed in the welcome he had anticipated from his poorer coun-
trymen. But lie had already insured his destruction, by an act of
extraordinary presumption or courage, for it may be called either ;
he had sent before him letters of excommunication, which he had
obtained from the Pope, against his old enemies the Archbishop of
York, and the Bishops of London and Salisbury. These almost
immediately set out for Normandy, to the king, from whom they
implored redress. " There is a man," said they, " who sets England
on fire ; he marches with troops of horse and armed foot, prowling
round the fortresses, and trying to get himself received within them."
This was indeed adding fuel to tlie fire that already burnt in the king's
breast : " How !" cried be, in a frenzy, " a fellow that hatli eaten
my bread, — a beggar that first came to my court on a lame horse,
dares to insult his jviiig and the royal family, and tread upon the
whole kingdom, and not one of the cowards I nourish at my
table — not one will deliver me from this turbulent priest !" These
memorable words fell upon ears already inclined perhajis by private
hatred to listen to them with delight ; such were Reginald Fitzurse,
William Tracy, Hugh de Morville, and Ricliard Brito, knights,
barons, and servants of the king's household ; who, leav.'ug the
king to determine in council that he would seize Becket and pioceed
against him in due form of law for high treason, quietly set out foi
England to take the matter into their own hands. AVhilst Becket
«as marching about in a strange kind of state, with a host of poor
people armed with old targets and rusty lances for his defenders,
the conspirators were gradually drawing towards him by different
routes. On Christmas-day the archbishop was preaching in the
cathedral, with more than his accustomed fervour, his tes:t being
" I come to die among you ;" and one cannot but look with ;i cer-

CUAP. Ill

OLD ENGLAND.

151

tain amount of admiration and sympathy on the man, notwithstand-
injj tlie undoubted violence and ambition of the prelate, when we
see liim performing all the lant and most questionable acts of eccle-
siastical power, excommunication of personal eneraie», with the
clearest anticipation of what might be the personal consequences.
On that day, he told the congregation that one of the archbishops had
been a martyr, and that they would probably soon see another ; and
forthwith blazed out the indomitable spirit as fiercely and as bril-
liantly as ever. " Before I depart home, I will avenge some of the
wrongs my church has suffered during the last seven years ;" and im-
mediately lie fulminated sentence of excommunication against Ilanulf
and Robert de Broc, and Nigellus, rector of Harrow. Three days
after, the knighU met at the castle of that very Ranulf de Broc ;
and finally determined upon their plans. The next morning
they entered Canterbury with a large body of troops, whom they
stationed at different quarters in order to quell any attempt of the
inhabitants to defend the doome<l man. They then proceeded to
the monastery of St. Augustine (Fig. 570) with twelve attendants,
and from thence to the palace, where they found the archbishop.
It was then about two o'clock. They seated themselves on the floor,
in silence, and gazed upon him. There was awful meaning in that
glance ; a no less awful apprehension of it, in the look wth which
it was returned. For tlie murderers to do what they had deter-
mined upon, against such a man, and at such a period, was, if
possible, more terrible than for the victim to suffer at their hands.
At last Reginald Fitzurse spoke: "We come," said he, "that
you may absolve the bishops whom you have excommunicated ;
re-establish the bishops whom you have suspended ; and answer for
your own offences against the king." Becket, understanding they
came from Henry, answered boldly and warmly, yet not without
symptoms of a desire to give reasonable satisfaction. He said he
could not absolve the archbishop of York, whose heinous case must
be reserved for the Pope's judgment, but that he would withdraw
tlie censures from the two other bishops, if they would swear to
submit to the papal decision. They then questioned him upon the
grand point — supremacy : " Do you hold your archbishopric of
the king or the Pope?" "I owe the spiritual rights to God
and the Pope, and tlie temporal rights to the king." After some
altercation, in the course of which Becket reminded three of
them of the time when they were his liege men, and haughtily
said that it was not for such as they to threaten him in his own
house, the knights departed, significantly observing they would
do more than threaten. "Whether the hesitation, here apparent,
arose from a desire to try to avoid extremities, or from want of mental
courage to perform the terrible act meditated, may be questioned ;
botli influences probably weighed upon tlieir minds. By and by
they returned to the palace, and, finding the gates shut, endeavoured
to force an entrance. Presently Robert de Broc showed them an
easier path through a window. The persons around Becket had
been previously urging him to take refuge in the church, thinking
his assailants would be deterred from violating a place so doubly
sacrod — by express privileges, and by its intimate connexion with
the growth of Christianity in the country; but he resisted until the
voices of the monks, as they sang the vespers in the choir, struck
upon his ears, when he said he would go, as duty then called him.
Calmly he set forth, his cross-bearer preceding him with the
crucifix raised on high, not the slightest trepidation visible in his
features or his movements ; and when the servants would have
closed the doors of the cathedral, he forbade them ; the house of
God was not to be barricadoed like a castle. He was just entering
the choir wlien Reginald Fitzurse and his companions appeared at
the other end of the church, the former waving his sword and crying
aloud, " Follow me, loyal servants of the king." The assassins -were
armed from head to foot. Even then Becket might have escaped,
ill the gloom of evening, to the intricate underground parts of the
cathedral ; but he was deaf to all persuasions of the kind, and
advanced to meet the knights. All his company then fled, except
one, the faithful cross-bearer, Edward Gryme. " Where is the
traitor?" was then called out; but as Becket in his unshaken pre-
sence of mind was silent to such an appeal, Reginald Fitzurse added,
" Where is the archbishop ?" " Here am I," was the reply ; " an
archbishop, but no traitor, ready to suffer in my Saviour's name."
■ Tracy then pulled him by the sleeve, exclaiming, " Com'te- hither ;
) thou art a prisoner!" but Becket perceiving their object, which
, was to get him witliout the church, resisted so violently as to
/ make Tracy stagger forward. Even then hesitating and uncertain,
hardly knowing what they said, and unable to determine what
they would do, they advised Becket to flee in one breath,
to accompany them in another. It is probable, indeeil, that
Becket might have successfully and safely resisted all their

demands, had he condeocended to put on for one hour the garb 1m
ought never to have put off— gentlencM ; but hi* bearing and Uoguag«
could hardly have been more haughty and contempiuoiu than now,
when he saw hinuelf utterly defenceleM and encompaaied by deadly
enemies. Speaking to Fitzurse, he reminded him he had dona bin
many pleasures, and asked him why he came with armed mm into
his church. The answer was a demand to absolve the bbboM;
to which Becket not only gave a decided refusal, but insulted
Fitzurse by the use of a foul term that one would hardly have
looked for in the vocabulary of an archbishop. " Then die," ex-
claimed Fitzurse, striking at his head with his weapon ; but the
devoted cross-bearer interfered ; when his arm was nearly cut
through, and Becket slightly injure<l. Still anxious to aroid the con-
summation of a deed that necessarily appeared so tremendous in
their eyes, one of them was heard even then to utter the warning
voice, " Fly, or thou diest." The archbishop, however clasped his
hands, bowed his head, and, with the blood running down his face ex-
claimed, " To God, to St. Mary, to the holy patrons of this church,
and to St. Denis, I commend my soul, and the church's cause." He
was then struck down by a second blow, and the thini completed the
tragedy. One of the murderers placed his foot on the dead pre-
late's neck, and cried " Thus perishes a traitor !" The party then
retired, and after dwelling for a time at Kiiaresborough, and finding
they were shunned by persons of all classes and conditions, spent
their last days in penitence in Jerusalem : when they died, this
inscription was written upon their tomb — " Here lies the wretches
who murdered St. Thomas of Canterbury." The spot where this
bloody act was performed is still pointed out in the northern wing
of the western transept, and that part of the cathedral is in con-
sequence emphatically called Martyrdom; the Martyr being the
designation by which Becket was immediately and universally
spoken of. The excitement caused by the event has had few parallels
in English history. For a twelvemonth Divine service was sus-
pended ; the unnatural silence reigning throughout the vast pile
during that time, making the scene of bloodshed all the more im-
pressive to the eyes of the devout, who began to pour thither from
all parts of the world in a constantly-increasing stream. Canterbury
then became a kind of second Holy City, where the guilty sought
remission of their sins — the diseased health — pilgrims, the blessings
that awaited the performance of duly-fulfilled vows. Henry him-
self, moved by a death so sudden and so dreadful, and so directly
following upon his own hasty words, did penance in the most abject
manner before Becket's tomb ; and two years later gave ui> all
that he had so long struggled for by repealing the famous Con-
stitutions of Clarendon, which had subjected both church and clergy
to the civil authority.

It was a noticeable coincidence that only four years after the death
of Becket the cathedral was all but destroyed by fire; a calamity
that at such a time would hardly appear like a calamity, from the
opportunity it afforded of developing in a practical slia|)e the
passion that filled the universal heart of England to do something
memorable in honour of the illustrious martyr. To say that funds
poured in from all parts and in all shapes, gives but little notion
of the enthusiasm of the contributors to the restoration of the edifice.
The feelings evidenced by foreigners show forcibly what must have
been those of our own countrymen. In 1179, says Mr. Batteler,
in his additions to Somner's ' Antiquities of Canterbury," " Louis
VII., King of France, landed at Dover, where our king expected
his arrival. On the 23rd of August these two kings came to
Canterbury, with a great train of nobility of both nations, and
were received by the archbishop and his com-provincials, the prior
and convent, with great honour and unspeakable joy. The obla-
tions of gold and silver made by the French were incredible. The
king [Louis] ciime in manner and habit of a pilgrim, and was con-
ducted to the tomb of St. Thomas in solemn procession, where he
offered his cup of gold, and a royal precious stone, with a yearly
rental of one hundred muids [hogsheads] of wine for ever to the
convent." The task of rebuilding even a Canterbury Cathedral
would be found but comparatively light under such circumstances ;
so the good work proceeded rapidly towards completion, until the
fabric appeared of which the chief parts remain to the present time.
It is not, therefore, in its associations merely that the cathedral
reminds us at every step we take in it of the turbulent and ambi-
tious, but able and brave priest, — it may really be almost esteemed
his monument; for admiration of /lis self-sacrifice, veneration of Ais
piety, and yearning to do him honour, were the moving powers
that raised anew the lofty roof, and extended the long-drawn aisl<«
anil nave and choir. The direct testimonies of the i>eople's affec-
tion were still more remarkable. Among the earliest additions
made after the fire to the former plan was the circular east einl.

57S.— Norman Oapitals, rower. Lincoln.

579. -tarly English Capital, Chapter-Houso
MdcoId.

574.— Lincoln CathedraL

:i 1

■' /'

530.— Early English Turret,
Lincoln.

6^1 — GableCross, Lincoln

OTU — Lincoln Catliedral

6*3.- Brackel, Chapter-Hoase, Lincoln.

S82,-Gable Cros

J lAncoVn-

585 — Bjo^, Nave, Lincoln.

152

r<; V . — . u Lt 1 ior of Lii.coln Catbodral.

»66.— Nurlh-we»l Vww of Durluin CaOiedraL

m^^::^.^t

^90.— SIMM duii in Uw Cbftm-Bamt,

591.— Arcade, C!i*plcr-IIoaMk JRBliam.

68;.— Durluao.

IM.— Dnrtum Ooludnl.

No. 20.

153

154

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book I.

including the chapel of the Holy Trinity, and another called Becket's
Crown (Fig. 567) ; the last so designated, according to some autho-
rities, from the circumstance of the chapels having been erected
during the prelacy of Beciiet, whilst others attribute it to the form
of the roof. There may have been, however, a much more poetical
origin ; Becket's Crown was possibly intended to be significant of the
crown of martyrdom here won by the slaughtered prelate. It was in
that chapel of the Holy Trinity that the shrine, famous tlie « ide world
over, was erected, and whicli speedily became so rich as to be without
rival, we should imagine, in Europe. It was " builded," says Stow,
"about a man's height, all of stone, then upwards of timber plain,
within which was a chest of iron, containing the bones of Tlionias
Becket, skull and ail, with the wound of Iiis death, and the piece cut
out of the skull laid in the same wound. The timber-work of this
shrine on the outside was covered with plates of gold, damasked with
gold wire, which ground of gold was again covered with jewels of
gold, as rings, ten or twelve cramped witii gold wire into the said
ground of gold, many of these rings having stones in them, brooches,
images, angels, precious stones, and great pearls." The contents
of the shrine were in accordance with the outward dipplaj\ Eras-
mus, who obtained a glimpse of tlie treasures a little before the
Reformation, says tliat under a coffin of wood, inclosing another
of gold, wliich was drawn up by ropes and pulleys, he beheld
an amount of riches the value of which he could not estimate.
Gold was the meanest tiling visible; the whole place glittered with
the rarest and most precious gems, which were generally of extra-
ordinary size, and some larger than the egg of a goose. When
Henry VIII. seized upon the whole, two great chests were
tilled, each requiring six or seven men to move it. In strict
keeping with the character of the brutal despot was his war with
the dead, as well as with the living, when lie ordered tlie remains
of Becket to be burned, and the ashes scattered to the winds. The
shrine, then, has disappeared, with all its contents, but a more
touching memorial than either remains behind — the hollowed pave-
ment — worn away by countless knees of worshippers from every
Ciiristian land.

As our ecclesiastical builders seem to have had not the smallest
notion of " finality " in their labours — but when a building was
even fairly finished, in tlie ordinary sense of the teini, were
sure to find some part requiring re-erection in a new style— we
find Canterbury for centuries after Becket's deatii still in pro-
gress : the Reformation found the workmen still busy. There is
something in all this truly grand, harmonizing with and ex-
plaining the mighty ends obtained ; reason and feeling alike
whisper — Thus alone are Cathedrals built. Yet how deep and per-
vading the influence of art must have been upon the minds of all
who were connected with such structures ! Centuries pass, archi-
tect after architect dies off, and is succeeded by others, yet still the
work grows in beauty, and above all in the loftiest, but under the
circumstances apparently the most difficult kind of beauty — expres-
sion ; each man evidently understands his predecessor so tliorouglily,
that he can depart from his modes of working — his style, secure
still of achieving his principles. Look at Canterbury. How many
changes of architectural taste are not there visible ; how many dif-
ferent periods of architectural history may not be there traced : yet
is the effect anywhere discordant? — Oh, he were indeed presump-
tuous who should say so ! Is it not rather in the highest degree
grand and impressive, conveying at once to the mind that sense of
sublime repose which belongs only to works of essential unify ? We
need not subjoin any detailed architectural descriptions. The Ca-
thedral is pleasantly situated in an extensive court, surrounded by
gardens, cemetery, the deanery and prebendal houses, and what
remains of the archiepiscopal palace, and of other buildings con-
nected with the Cathedral, among which may be mentioned the
Staircase (Fig. 569). The Precinct Gate (Fig. 566) forms the
principal entrance to this court. As to the Cathedral, the double
transepts may be noticed as the most remarkable feature of the plan,
which represents, as usual, a cross. The choir is of extraordinary
length, nearly two hundred feet, and the great tower is general!}'
esteemed one of the chastest and most beautiful specimens we pos-
sess of Pointed architecture. Its height is two hundred and thirty-
five feet. The entire length of the building measures five hundred
and fourteen feet. One of the two western towers has been re-
cently restored. The Cathedral is exceedingly rich in objects of
general interest to the visitor, and may be readily conceived when
we consider what a history must be that of Canterbury, how many
eminent men have been buried within its walls, what splendid ex-
amples of monumental and otlier sculpture exist there even yet,
faint tokens of the wealth art once lavished upon its walls and
niches and windows! But among the crowd of interestino' objects

there are two which peculiarly attract notice : a sarcophagus of
grey marble, richly adorned, and bearing the effigy )f a warrior, in
copper gilt — that is the monument of the Black Prit :e, wonderfu ly
fresh and perfect; and an ancient chair in the chaj el of the Holv
Trinity, formed also of grey marble, in pieces, whicl is used for the
enthronization of the Archbishops of the See, and which, sayeth
tradition, was the ancient regal seat of the Saxon kings of Kent,
who may have given it to the Cathedral as an emblem of their jiious
submission to Him who was then first declared unto them — the
King of kings (Fig. 667).

If St. Augustine's Monastery possessed no other claim to atten-
tion than that of having been the burial-place of the great Englisii
Apostle of Christianity, it were amply sufficient to induce the
visitor to the glorious cathedral to pass on from thence to a space
beyond the walls, along the northern side of the Dover road, and
there muse over the powers that are from time to time given into
the hands of a single man to influence to countless generations the
thoughts, feelings, manners, customs, in a word, the spiritual and
temporal existence of a great people. Yes, it was here that, after
successes that can fall to the lot of few, even of the greatest men,
Augustine reposed in 601 : he found England essentially a heathen
country ; he left it, if not essentially a Christian one, still so far
advanced to a knowledge of the mighty truths of the Gospel, as to
render it all but certain that their final supremacy was a mere
question of time. The monastery was founded by him on ground
granted by Ethelbert, and dedicated to St. Peter and St. Paul. It
was Dunstan who some centuries later, i>i ih lionourable reverence
for Augustine's memory, re-dedicated the establishment to those
Apostles and to St. Augustine. Not long after that time Augus-
tine's body was removed into the Cathedral. We fear the pious
monks of the monastery must liave felt their stock of charity
severely tried on tlic occasion, if we may judge from their known
sentiments towards their brethren of Christ Cliurch, who were thus
honoured at their expense.

Tiiere are some curious passages in what we may call the mutual
history of the two establishments. As they both .sprang from one
source, Augustine, and were of course founded with the same views,
they looked on each other, as usual, with feelings that must charu-
the hearts of those who think it rather creditable than otherwise
to be " good haters." Their disputes began early ; " neither,"
says Lambarde, " do I find that ever they agreed after, but were
evermore at continual brawling between themselves, either suing
before the King or appealing to the Pope, and that for matters of
more stomach [pride] than importance ; as for example whether
the Abbot of St. Augustine's should be consecrated or blessed in
his own church or in the other's; whether he ought to ring iiis bells
at service before the other had rung theirs ; whether he and his
tenants owed suit to tlie bishop's court and such like." At the
dissolution Henry VIII. took a fancy to the monastery, and made it
one of his own palaces. Queen Mary subsequently granted it to
Cardinal Pole; but on her death it again reverted to the crown;
and Elizabeth on one occasion, in 1573, kept her court in it. Sub-
sequently Lord Wotton became the possessor, whose widow enter-
tained Charles XL, whilst on his way to take possession of the
throne; the note then given to the building may have caused it
to be known as Lady Wotton's Palace, which designation is still
in use.

We may gather from these facts that the monastery in its days
of prosperity must have been an unusually magnificent structure ;
and, great as have been the injuries since experienced, botii in the
shape of actual destruction and in the disgraceful treatment of
what little was still permitted to exist, no one can look upon the
architectural character or extent of the pile, as evidenced in the
remains, without being impressed with the same conviction (Jig.
570). The space covered by the diflTerent buildings extended to
sixteen acres. Of these the gateway (Fig. 571), a superb piece of
architecture, is preserved essentially entire.

A Monastery at Bristol, dedicated also to St. Augustine, may be
liere fitly noticed. This was built by Robert Fitzharding, the
founder of the present Berkeley family, and a prepositor, or chief
magistrate, of the city during the stormy reign of Stephen. The
establishment afterwards attained to such a pitch of wealth and
splendour, that when Henry VIII. in placing his destructive hands
upon the religious houses of England generally, was ir:oved in
some way to spare this, he was able to create a bisliop's see out of
the abbey lands: the abbey church was consequently elevated to

Chap. Il.J

OLD ENGLAND.

155

t',:Q rank it now lioldd, of a catliedral. As an example of the sum-
mary way in which the king's creatures were accustomed to deal
with sncii beautiful and revered structures, ii is not unworthy of
notice that n part of the church was already flemolUlied, before the
arrangement we have mentioned was formally complete<l. The
transept, the eastern part of the nave, and the choir of the onginal
church, are the parts that were save<l, and their stately character
IcHves us grateful for the possession of so much. There is also a
tower at the westtcrei end of the building, of considerable size
and hei^^ht, and richly decorated. The beautifully arched roof
is always looked upon with admiration. The jminted windows
are also ancient, and therefore interesting. Among the monu-
ments are those to the Eliza of Sterne and to the wife of the
poet Mason. Hut perhaps a still more valuable portion of the
Abbey than any we have mentioned is to be found in the gateway
(Fig. 573), which has been attributed to an earlier period — the
arms of the Confessor are sculptured upon its front, — and which
IS universally esteemed one of the finest Norman g^iteways in
England.

It is to be observed, in examining the engraving, that the rising
of tlie fjround in the course of so many centuries has materially
injured the effect of the proportion of the arch to the rest of the
edifice; and that the window seen there is not what we now see in
the gateway itself, but what we ought to be able to see there;
comparatively modern sashes having replaced the antique bay
window.

The first view of Lincoln Cathedral obtained by the approaching
traveller is something to remember for a lifetime. One of the
most beautiful of P^nglish structures is certainly at the same time
one of the most nobly situated. As we advance towards it from
the south, by the London road, we suddenly arrive at the brow of a
steep hill, leading down into a fertile valley extending far away to
the right and to the left, and through the centre of which the river
Witham glides along, whilst immediately opposite rises a corre-
sponding eminence to that on which we stand, at about the distance
of a mile or so. In that valley, and stretching up that hill to and
over its top, lies outspread before us like a panorama the beautiful
city of Lincoln ; and "crowning the whole stands the glorious Cathe-
dral, its entire length, four hundred and seventy feet, fully displayed,
with its two western towers rising at the left extremity, and the grand
main tower, truly worthy of its name, lifting itself proudly up from
the centre to the height of some two hundred and sixty-seven feet.
Such is the first view obtained of Lincoln Cathedral ; such the inipres-
f-ions excited by it ; and a nearer inspection enhances even the warmest
admiration. The arciiitect finds in it the history of his art during
two centuries, and those two of more importance (we refer to England
only) than all other periods put together, written in styles that make
those of words appear tame indeed to his eyes. The sculptor in Lin-
coln Cathedral looks around him with astonishment at the loftiness of
design, as well as consummate beauty of execution, which much
of the works that pertain to his own province exhibit. The
antiquary finds the blood qinckening in his veins as he thinks of
the rich storehouse of material that here awaits him, and on which
he may exercise, if he pleases, liis industry, talents, and zeal for
years together; no fear that he will exhaust them. But we are
now before the western front, a perfectly unique and stupendous
work ; simple even to a fault, perhaps, in the general level character
of so large a surfiice, but still sublime in expression, most richly
elaborate in ornament, and in the highest degree interesting from
the manner in which it tells us, as we look upon it, how it wa.s
gradually completed in different eras. There, above all, we per-
ceive in the central portion, including that series of recesses with
semicircular arches rising to so many different heights, — the original
Norman front of Remigius, the foimder of the earliest structure ;
the pointed window and arch of the central recess alone excepted,
which have been substituted for the ancient round ones (Fig. 576).
The date of the erection is the reign of the Conqueror, with whom
Remigius came over from Normandy. He appears to have been a
most enterprising, able, and benevolent man. William of Malms-
bury says of him, " that being in person far below the common pro-
•jortion of men, ids mind exerted itself to excel and shine." To
show the labourers the spirit that actuated him in rearing the
mighty pile, he is said to have carried stones and mortar upon his
own shovddcrs. Of his benevolence it may be sufficient to observe —
and the fact is interesting as affording a glimpse of the domestic
C.sfoms tliat in some degree ameliorated the frightful misery
wrought by the Conquest — he fed daily, during three months of
each year, one thotisand poor persons ; and clothed the blind and

the lame among their numljer, in additioa. Sucli wu the Bialiep
of Dorchester, who, having removed the lee lo Lineobi, then OM of
the moiit important place* hi the klngdoin, founded the aw of Lio-
colli, and the Cuthcdrul, with the adjoiiiiag Biebop'e FkkM, MM
other buildings for the re»ideiic« of the eceledMtieal oflfeem Un-
fortunately one pleasure waa denied him, that he miut have looked
forward to with no ordinary emotion* ; he died the very day before
the grand 0|)eiiing of the Minster ; to which — warned of hi* approach-
ing dissolution — he had invite<l all the mo«t distiiiguiabeil prabtaa of
the realm to assist in the stjiemn act of coiisecraiion. One of thcao,
the lii.nhop of IlerefonI, curiously enough, had escuied himtelf from
attending the ceremony, on the ground that he had leanil, by aatro-
logy, that the church would not be dedicated in (he time of Ro-
migius. Of this early fabric the central (wrtion of the waat ftoot
is all that now remains; as to the remainder, it has been aoppoaed,
by an authority competent to offer an opinion, tlut it did not ma-
terially differ from the present structure in arrangement or aUef
except that it ended eastwards about sixty feet within the preaant
tenninatii>:i, ami that the eastern front forme I a semicircular tribune ;
therefore very unlike the present one, of which it may be said, iha'
if any one desires to see an example of the Gothic, so perfectl'
beautiful that it is impossible to conceive any more exquisite com
bination of architectural forms and architectural decorations, 1«
him look upon that eastern front of Lincoln Cathedral.

The buihiiiig of the Cathedral occnpie<l somewliat more than twc
centuries ; but this did not, as we have partly seen, arise from the
circumstance that it was unfini.shed for so long a time, but that
accidents — among them a fire and an earthquake — did greet damagv
to the pile at different |ierio<ls : another circumstance that no doubt
delaye<l the final completion of the structure was the desire to improve
it from time to time as the new and ailinired Gothic continued to
develop fresh beauties and excellencies. Among the bishop* to
whom, after Remigius, the Cathedral was largely imlebted, we may
mention Hugh de Grenoble, to whom we owe much of the preseiM
fabric, erectiKl by him between 1186 and 1200, no doubt in conte-
quence of the earthquake of 1 185. The east or upper transept, wilJi
the Ciiapel attached to it, the Ciioir, Chapter-house, and east side
of the western transept, with parts of the additions to Remigius'*
west front, are all attributed to Bishop Hugh. Even in this collec-
tion of examples of the architecture of but fourteen year*, the
progression o*" the art is clearly visible; beautiful as is the Clioir,
for instance, a pure unmixed specimen of early Gothic, U is far
surpa-ssed by the Chapter-house — with its most airy and elegant of
interiors — where, in the centre of the lofty octagonal building, rise*
a stately pillar formed of a group of slender pillars, and which, at a
certain height, branch off in all directions, still rising, over the roof.
This Bishcp, as his name implies, was a luttive of Grenoble; and
so distinguished for his austere piety, that when he died, in 1200,
and was brought to Lincoln for interment, the Kings of England
and Sootlauil, who were then holding a conference in the city, went
to meet his body at the g^tes, and bore it on their shoulders to the
Cathedral Close, whence it was carried to the Choir by a multitude
of the most distinguished personages of the realm, and finally
buried at the east end of the Cathedral. Such a man was of
course sure to be canonized by the Roman Catholic Church : tliat
ceremony took place in 1220; and sixty-two years later bis
remains were taken up and deposited in a shrine of pure gold in the
Presbytery. The enormous value of this memorial may be conceived
from a statement of its dimensions — eight feet by four. The shrine
was plundered at the dissolution of the Monasteries, as well as the
Cathedral generally. The inventory of jewels, of articles of gold
and silver, and of costly vestments taken from Lincoln, fills several
folio pages of the great e<lition of the ' Monasticon.' The Nave,
unequalled, it is supposed, in the world for its combined magnitude
and beauty of proportion, and the curious Galilee porch, so richly
decorated, are among the next additions ; the use of the last-named
work has thus been explainetl by Dr. Slilner (' Treatise on the
Ecclesiiistical Architecture of the Middle Ages'): — "There were
formerly such porches at the western extremity of all large churches.
In these public penitents were stationed, dead bodies were some-
times deposited, previously to their interment, and females were
allowed to see the monks of the convent who were their relatives.
We may gather from a passage in Gervase, that upon a woman's
applying for leave to see a monk, her relation, she was answered in
the words of Scripture, ' He goeth before you into Galilee, there
you shall see him.' H.'nce the term Galilee. It is well known that
at Durham Cathedral women were not even allowed to attend
Divine service except in the Galilee. " To a greater man than any
we have yet mentioned, Grosteste, we are indebted for the lower
porfio 1 of the main tower. What powerfiil kings strove io vain

X 2

BJU.— Karl/ EngUahCupilal, Ourbiii

596.— Ornamental Shaft, poor of
North Cloisters, Durhara.

y_'.— Nave of Durham Cathedral.

6 9T.— Ornamental Shaft, Door of Norll
Cloisters, Durham.

r<08.— Normin Moulding,
Durh.tm,

600. Norman Moulding
Durham.

599.— Norman Mou
Durham.

BOALB or VKKT.

601.— Norman Moi
Durham.

158

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

to do, was accomplished by Bishop Grosteste ; lie opposed success-
fully the Papal power in its very palmiest days. The Pope and he,
it appears, did not agree about various matters, and no wonder, since
he was accustomed to talk about the inordinate ambition of tlie
Pontificate, and to speak disrespectfully of some of its convenient,
but not very just, customs — for instance, that of appointing Italian
priests to offices in the English churcli. So Grosteste went to Rome,
to see if he could not come to a better understanding with his
spiritual superior. His ill success was made apparent on his return,
by his publication of a letter, in which he animadverted in no very
measured terms upon the gross perversions of tlie Papal power, and.
instituted a most unflattering comparison between tlie living and
past possessors of tlie chair of St. Peter. The wrath of the Pope
may be imagined : " AVhat!" he exclaimed, "shall this old dotard,
whose sovereign is my vassal, lay down rules for me? By St.
Peter, I will make such an example of him as shall astonish the
world." He accordingly excommunicated Grosteste j who astonished
him, whatever lie might have done the world, in return, by pro-
ceeding quietly with his episcopal dutie?, making every one speak
of him witli reverence for his wisdom and piety ; and dying at last,
eighteen years afterwards, not a jot the worse in any respect for the
Pope's thunders and excommunications. The only other portion
of the structure that we need particularize is the east end, including
the Presbytery, or space beyond the Choir, and the eastern front, of
which we have spoken with so mucli admiration : all this appears to
have been built in the latter half of the thirteenth century ; and formed
a suitable termination to so grand a work, surpassing, as it did, all
tliat had been previously erected. In these — the earlier parts — a
very gradual progression of improvement in the style forms the
diief characteristic; but in the Presbytery and east front, while
with consummate art we see all the essentials of the former
preserved, a striking air of novelty is superadded, and the wliole
becomes markedly richer, airier, more delicate and stately, without
any diminution of grandeur or strength. The buttresses almost
cease to look like buttresses, so profusely are they decorated with
crockets, creepers, and finials, with clustered columns at the angles,
and with brackets and canopies for statues on the faces. The
windows now cease to be mere single lights, tiiey are divided into
several compartments by mullions ; they begin to revel in all the
luxuriant variety of geometrical tracery. From the highest to the
lowest details, a very " shower of beauty " seems to have suddenly
fallen over all ; and Time lias in most parts dealt so gently witli .
tliem, that the very freshness of that early period seems to be still
preserved.

There are, of course, many matters of interest connected with the
erection of the Cathedral, which we have not even referred to, and
many others of its general history, or of its individual features,
upon which our space either forbids us to comment at all, or but
slightly. The Bishop's Porch, at the eastern corner of the southern
side of tlie building, was originally one of the most sumptuous and
admirable specimens of mingled architecture and sculpture that
even Old England itself could furnish ; and, mutilated as the porch
now is, more than traces of its superb beauty yet remain. The
principal part is the alto-relievo above the doorway, representing
the Last Judgment in a style of the loftiest design, that fills oi.e, like
the beautiful statue of Eleanor in Westminster Abbey, with
astonishment and perplexity : how could such works have been
executed in England in the thirteenth or fourteenth century ? Tlie
various chapels and monumental remains of Lincoln are in them-
selves a wide field for study and observation ; but we can only here
remark that among the latter are those of Bishop Reraigius,
Catherine Swynford, wife of John of Gaunt, and sister of Chaucer's
wife, and tlie remains of a monument, covering the stone cofliin of
little St. Hugh, a boy alleged to have been crucified by the Jews
in derision of the Saviour — a charge absurd enough in all but
its consequences : these are painful even to relate. In 1255 one
hundred and two Je*s were taken from Lincoln to the Tower ; and
eventually twenty-three were executed in London, and eighteen at
Lincoln. The explanation, frightful as is the wickedness it involves,
if true, seems to be partially given in the existing record of a com-
mission to Simon de Passeliere and William de Leigliton to seize
for tlie king's use, the houses belonging to the Jews who were hanged
at Lincoln. Knowing what atrocities were perpetrated, avowedly
to make their victims, the Jews, submit to spoliation, there is but
little difficulty in believing, however reluctantly, tliat the spoilers
were glad to avail themselves of any conceivable means of directing
against that unhappy people the greatest possible amount of popular
odium. A painted statue of the boy formerly existed here, bearing
marks of crucifixion in the hands and feet, and blood issuing from a
wound in the side. The story has been commemorated ii .he ballad

of ' Sir Hugh, or the Jew's Daughter ;' and in the ' Canterbury
Tales,' where Cliaucer, in the Prioress's Tale, alludes to

O younge Ilugli of Lincoln slain also,
With cursed Jewess, as it is notable.
For it n'is but a little wliile ago : &c.

Great Tom of Lincoln must have a passing word. Tiie old bell,
having been accidentally broken in 1827, has been since recast, with
the additional metal of the four lady bells that also hung in the
great tower ; and it now deserves more tlian its former reputation.
Its size and weight are enormous. The height exceeds six feet ; tlie
greatest breadth is six feet ten inches and a lialf ; the weight is five
tons eight hundredweight. As to tone and volume of sound, the
imagination can conceive nothing more grandly, musically solemn.

The records of the foundation of many of our earliest monastic
houses, as well as of the faitli to the cultivation and dissemination
of which they were devoted, exhibit, as we have already partly
seen, ample store of miracles on the part of the teachers, responded
to by a most unbounded credulity on the part of those who were
taught. But all the wonders of all the other religious establish-
ments of England put together, hardly equal ♦hose which Durham
was once accustomed to boast of, and which were received with
implicit credence ; for any important event in its early history to
have happened in a simply natural manner seems to have been the
exception : the supernatural was the mode and the rule. Our
readers must not, therefore, be surprised to find that an intrinsically
serious and solemn subject has, in the lapse of ages, and through
tlie growth of an intelligent scepticism as to these continual aberra-
tions from all the ordinary laws of nature, become surrounded with
many amusing and ludicrous associations. Fortunately the com-
mencement of the history of Durham, which is also the commence-
ment of the history of the introduction of Christianity into that
part of the island, has not been impaired by such derogatory in-
fluences. Ethelfrith, King of Northumberland, at his death left a
widow and seven sons, who were obliged to fly into Scotland, to
escape the hands of the usurper Edwin, the boys' uncle. Donald
IV. then reigned in Scotland, and being a convert to Chris-
tiaiiitj', instilled its principles into the minds of the youthful
exiles. The eldest son ultiuiately obtained a portion of his in-
heritance, after the usurper's death, but relapsed into heathenism^
and was murdered by Cadwallon, King of Cumberland, who overrar>
the whole country. It was to do battle with this monarch that
Oswald, a second son, then set out from Scotland, and placed him-
self at the head of the miserable Nortliumbrians. The utmost
force he could collect, however, was so small in comparison with that
commanded by Cadwallon, that but for his reliance on the Power
so recently made known to him, he must have resigned the contest
for his kingdom in despair. Undismayed, he prepared for the bloody
fight, and causing a cross to be brought to him in front of the army^
he held it with his own hands in an upright posture, while his
attendants, animated by his enthusiasm into a similar conviction
that they were to be aided by more than mortal influences, heaped
up the earth around, and made it fast. Then addressing the men,
he said : — " Let us foil down on our knees, and beseech the
Almighty, the living and true God, to defend us against this proud
and cruel enemy;" and they obeyed him. After devotions, he led
on his little band toward the enemy, the whole actuated by a
spirit that was irresistible : a complete vict( /y was obtained. Full
of gratitude, Oswald sent to Scotland for some holy man, who might
assist in the conversion of the inliabitants of his newly-gained
dominions; and one was sent whose austere manners proved so little
to the taste of the Northumbrians, that Oswald was fain to send hin»
back. He was replaced by Aidan, who seems to have been all that
was desired, and who having successfully looked for tlie most
suitable spot, at last fixed on the island of Lindisfarne, where he
established a monastery and a bishopric. Of the sanctity of the
lives of these primitive Christians of Korthumbria we have a kind
of testimony in the name subsequently given to the place — Holy
Island. But a more direct and interesting evidence is to be foiiiuf
in Bede's charming picture of the lives of the monks during the
period that tlie Scottish Ijisliops continued to fill the office of Abbot,
One could almost fancy Chaucer must have had it in view when,
at a later period, he drew his inimitable portrait of the " poure
parson." "Their frugality and simplicity of life, and parsimony,
appeared in the place of their residence, in which there was nothing
superfluous or unnecessary for the humblest life. In the church
only magnificence was permitted. Their possessions consisted chiefly
in cattle, for money was only retained till fi't opportunity offered
to dis/ribute it to the poor. Places of enterta^-iment and receptioi;

CUAP. II.J

OLD ENGLAND

lyj

Mere unnecesuary, for the religioiu were vitited solely fur their
doctrines and •.■.3 lioly offices of tlie church. Wlieii the king
came thitlier, he was attended only by five or six ijcmons, and had
no otiier object in view than to [)artal(e of the rites of religion,
departing immediately after tlie service : if perchance they took
refrolinicnt, it was of the common fare of the monks. The
attention of tiiose pastors was confined to spiritual matters only ;
temporary affairs were deemed derogatory to the iioly appointment:
and thence proceeded the profound veneration which was paid by
all ranks of people to the religious habit. When any ecclesiastic
Meiit from the monastery, it was to preach the word of salvation,
and he was everywhere received with joy, as a messenger of tiie
Divinity; on tlie road tlie passengers bowed the head to receive
the holy benediction and sign of the cross, with pious reverence
trea<:uring up tlie good man's precepts as documents of the most
wlutary import. The churches were crowded with a decent
audience ; and when a monk was seen entering a village in his
travels, the inhabitants flocked about him, entreating admonition
and prayers. On their visitation, donations and riches were not
their pursuit, and whan any religious society receivetl an 'augmen-
tation to the revenues of tlie house, as an offering of Christianity
by the donor, they accepted it as an additional store with which
tiiey were intrusted for the benefit of the poor." The humble
fishermen of Galilee might have recognised kindred spirits in these
monks of Lindisfarne.

That most terrible of scourges that was perhaps ever inflicted
upon an unfortunate people, a neighbouring nation of pirates,
ultimately caused (in connection with another matter, to which we
shall refer presently) the removal of the bishopric from Lindis-
farne. Again and again the merciless and insatiable Dane burst
down upon the island, so Holy to all but him, and destroyed and
slaughtered what lie could not carry away or make captive ; and at
last the monks in despair ceased for a time their exertions to make
the place retain its original importance. After the Conquest, how-
ever, a new Priory was erected, holding the position of a cell only
to the former bishopric. The remains of that edifice (shown in
Fig. 572) are singularly beautiful in their ruin. Scott has described
the whole as forming

A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile.
Placed on tho margin of the Isle ;

and which, it is to be feared, will be lost to the next generation,
notwithstanding the care that is said to have been of late years
estowed on them : the material is a soft red freestone, which wastes
pidly under the action of the elements. About one hundred yards
slant from the mainland, with which Lindisfarne itself is con-
nected at low water, and facing the Priory, there stands, on a low
detached piece of rock, the foundations of a building upon which
most persons look with even deeper interest than on those stately
oeighbouring ruins. In some parts the walls yet rise a foot or two
above the groimd : th&se walls and foundations belonged to a small
chapel, dedicated to the saint who was the immediate cause of the
removal of the bishopric — St. Cuthbert, himself one of the early
irelates. His remains were buried at Lindisfarne. But, having
ken up the body about the year 875, and conveyed it away from
ndisfarne to avoid the attacks of the Danes, the Bishop Eandulf
and the Abbot Eadred, and all the monastic household, were kept
oiarching to and fro, now alarmed by rumours that the Danes were
coming this way, and the monks consequently going that ; then again
•topped by fresh intelligence, and compelled to diverge into new
tracks. No wonder that the good bishop at last felt heartily tired
of these incessant and somewhat unseemly manoeuvres, and resolved
to put an end to them by going over to Ireland. Accordingly
the party, which included a great number of the more zealous and
Attached Christian people, proceeded to the mouth of the Derwent,
and took ship ; but they had scarcely got out to sea, before a
violent storm arose, and drove the vessel back to the spot from
whence they had departed. To minds accustomed to look upon all
6uch events as bearing some spiritual meaning, it was considered
^•erlain that God thus signified his will that they should not quit
Kngland. Food now grew scarce, and the people, driven away by
iiunger, gradually disappeared, until there were left only the
Bishop, the Abbot, and seven other persons to take care of the
saintly corpse. In the midst of their distress, one of the number,
Ilunred, had a vision which greatly comforted the wanderers :
they were told through him, by a celestial voice, to repair to the
sea, where they would find a book of the Gospels they liad lost out
of the ship during the storm, and which appears to have been
greatly valued, for it was adorned with gold and precious stones.
The message then coatinued, that ibey would next find a bridle.

__te

hanging on a tree, which wai to be placed on a bone that would
come to them, and the lionte wa« to be attached to a ear that they
would also meet with, and thus the body might be carried with
greater ease and comfort. Everything happened at forvtold ; and
again tho party moved on, following the horM wberev«r it led.
We roust not forget to mention, as a very interesting evidanea in
faTourofthe truth of all the more natural parts of the story, that
at tho time of Symeon of Dunclmensis, the ancient historian of iha
see, from whom this part of our narration is derired, the book was
still preserved in the library at Durham, and it in supposed that one
of the most valued treasures of the British Museum is this ancient
copy of the Go8|x;ls. When our travellers had thun spent seven
years in incessant motion, Halfdane, the great Danish leader, waa
seized with a loathsome disorder, which made his presence M
unendurable to his fellow-men, that he suddenly went out to sea,
with three ships, and there perished. And tha«, peace at last
blessed the troubled ecclesiastics of Lindisfarne. They went first
to the monastery of Cree, where they were " lovingly entertained,"
and where they stayed for some months. The country at that time
was in a terrible state of anarchy ; and it is to the credit of the
monks that they set to work to reduce the whole into order. It
was now the Abbot's turn to have a vision ; in which St. Cuthbert
appeared to him, and enjoined Eadred to repair to the Danish
camp, and there inquire for a youth called Guthred, the son of
Ilardecnut, who had been sold into slavery ; him he was to redeem
and proclaim king. It was a bold manoeuvre, for if it succeeded,
Guthred must be ungrateful indeed not to remember who placed
him on the throne. It did succeed; the slave became a monarch ;
both Danes and Northumbrians, wearied with their perjietual
contests and the misery thence produced, acknowledging him at Os-
\viesdune. And now was seen the ecclesiastical importance of that
lucky vision of the Abbot's ; the see was formally translated from Lin-
disfarne to Cunecasestre (Chester-le-Street), and the Bishop F^ndulf
made the first prelate there ; whilst the whole of the land between
the Weir and the Tyne was bestowed by Guthred on St. Cuth-
bert, or, in other words, on the Bishop of Durham, and thus became
the foundation of their palatine jurisdiction.

A new alarm, about 995, caused by Sweyn's appearance in Eng-
land, set the Bishop, and all his clergy and religious, once more
on their tr.ivels with St. Cuthbert's body. Another miraculous
intervention is held to have taken place, and the wandering party
were directed to Durham. The spot at that time was strong by
nature, but uninhabited, and not easily made habitable — it was so
thickly wooded. In the midst was a small plain, which the has-
bandinan had reclaimed ; that was the only evidence of civilization
the place presented. But there were willing hearts and hands
ready to flock thither from all parts, and help these memorable
guardians of the most memorable of saints to set up a house and a
temple in the wilderness. From the river Coquet to the Tees they
came in " multitudes." The trees were grubbed up, and there soon
appeared, in the place of the little oratory of wattles first and tem-
porarily put up, dwellings for all the people who had come with the
ecclesiastics, and then a church of stone, a more honourable resting-
place for the saint than the. wattled building, but also intended to
be but temporary ; for Aldun, the bishop, of course desired to real
a structure worthy of the saint's reputation. There seems little
doubt here, also, but that we have followed the details of a true
historj', the more marvellous portion alone excepted ; and a very
striking idea they give us of the foundation of one of the most
interesting cities of the kingdom. The see was again formally,
and for the last time, translated, and hence the Bishopric ol
Durham. There is a tradition relating to one of the removals
of the body thus commemorated by Scott in his ' Marmion :' —

In bis stone coiTm forth he rides,
A ponderous bark for river tides ;
Yet light as gossamer it glides
Downward to Tillmouth coll :

and, strange to say, tlic tradition may be true. Not only did the
coflfin exist till within the last few years, perhaps does so still, but
was so constructed that statical experiments have proved it to
be capable of floating with a weight equal to that of a human
body. It was finely shaped, ten feet long, and three and a half in
diameter.

The history of the bishops of Durham forms too large a subject
even to be glanced at in our pages; so we shall merely give one
passage from it, of a noticeable character, and then conclude with a
short account of the building around which all these historical
recollections, as it were, concentrate themselves — the Cathedral.
During the frightfid period of the Conquest, which fell with more
than its ordinary severity on the northern counties — William, fo»

• 604.— AV<ilth«m Abbey, from the Nortli-West.

608.— Tnmsept, St. Albans.

606.— Abbey of St, Albaiis.

605.— Walthsm Abbey.

60? .-Nave. St. Albans.

160

en.— PiKliu, Norwlcb.

ei3.— »oot, Norwkh.

15.— C«plt«l, North TraoMpt,
Norwich.

C09.— Eipiogbam Gattvay. Norwich.

'^Flint Masoniy. St. Ethel-
*Tfi Gate House, Norwkh.

013 ^Kktit, N«r>kk.

dC-Onital. >'onli :

NorvM.

•18.— Flint Mat 0017, St. EllMt-
btrt'iOatc Hoaae, Norwich.

610.— Norwich.

No. 21

ici

10:

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book 1L

instance, at one time waited tlie whole coiuitry from York to
Durham witli fire and sword — the Saxon Bi.~hop Egelwin died a
prisoner in the Jsle of Ely, of a broken heart, and Waloher, a
Komian, was appointed his successor. That ecclesiastic was by no
means content to be an ecclesiastic only, no matter what the rank ;
lie purchased the earldom of Nortliumberland, and thus joined in
liis own person, for the first time in the see, the spiiitual and civil
jurisdiction. His success was not at all calculated lo encourage
imitation. When the people saw tlie office they had been accus-
tomed to venerate connected with the infliction of legal severities,
they began to murmur against the man who had so lowered it, and
they did not long confine themselves to murmuring only. On the
I4th of May, 1080, AValcher was hokling a public assembly at
Gateshead in exercise of his obnoxious civil autliority ; and although
large numbers of the people were congregated, there appeared
nothing in their appearance and demeanour to excite particular
alarm. But suddenly there arose the cry of " Short rede, good
rede ; slay ye the bishop," which had been the watchword chosen,
and at once the people drew arms from beneath their garments and
rushed upon the bishop's party, while others set fire to the church.
AValcher, seeing escape hopeless, determined to die with dignity, so,
veiling !iis face v/ith his robe, he advanced towards the assailants,
one of whom instantly killed him with a lance. Of the succeeding
early bisliops of the see may be named Ralf Flambard, Hugh de
I'udsey, and Anthony Bek, whose life gives one an extraordinary
idea of the power occasionally obtained by the more eminent
churchmen of the middle ages ; he was at once Bisiiop of Durham,
Patriarch of Jerusalem, Governor of the Isle of Man, and, as a
military chieftain, able to send his thirty-two banners to the battle
of Falkirk. Among the later bishops was Tunstall, of \vliom, on
his return to England, Erasmus touchingly wrote : — " I seem now
scarce to live, Tunstall being torn from me ; I know not where I
sliall fly to,"

Durham, like Lincoln, enjoys the inestimable architectural ad-
vantage of a truly noble site. The city, being nearly surrounded
by the river "Weir, forms a kind of peninsula, the centre of which
rises to a considerable height, with the cathedral at the summit,
surrounded at its base by buildings and hanging gardens which
descend to the river, and are there continued as it were in the
delightful walks of the "Banks," which skirt the water on both
sides. The situation of the cathedral and the other ecclesiastical
buildings far surpasses any pictures we have ever seen of it — truly
beautiful and grand it is ! You make your way up to the eminence
on which stands the cathedral, through steep and narrow lanes,
which bring you into a fine open space, with the cathedral on the
south of the square. The palace, or castle (now occupied as the
University of Durham), forms another side. You descend to an
ancient bridge, and are now under these grand monuments of
ancient magnificence. A beautiful walk leads along their base
overhanging the river at a considerable height. You cross a noble
biidge of modern construction, and find a sijnilar w;ilk on the oppo-
site bank. You have now, following the windings of the river,
passed from the west to the south side of the cathedral, and in
continuation of it are most picturesque groups of houses rising one
above another on the steep bank, embosomed in trees. The wind-
ing course of the river brings you now to the east end, and still
you have the same grand view of this lordly place. AYell might
the old bishops feel that theirs was a princely rule, as they gave
laws from such a throne.

The cathedral was begun in the reign of Rufus, by Bishop
"William de Carilepho, and in part or entirely completed by the next
b'shop, Ralf Flambard. The structure then erected wc possess
in an all but perfect state. The eastern extremity, where the
Nine Altars (see plan. Fig. 593) now stand, was probably in the
Norman building semicircular ; the nave (Fig. 592) and the choir
were open to the timber roof, instead of being vaulted as at present ;
partial alterations, improvements, and some important additions
have also been made; but essentially we have the true Norman
building before us, when we gaze upon the noble semicircular
arches, and the tall, massive, and in some instances curiously
decorated pillars of Durham Cathedral. We may observe by the
way that some of these pillars are twenty-three feet in circumference.
The Galilee Chapel (Fig. 603), the uses of which are explained in
our account of Lincoln Cathedral, was the first addition to the
original structure : this was built by Hugh de Pudsey, in the latter
half of the twelfth century ; and we perceive in it the first of that
series of architectural stages, from the Norman to the finished
Gothic, which give to Durham, as to some of our other cathedrals,
so much artistical value.

The lightness and elegance of the pillars, thofgh in every other

respect genuine Norman, strike one at a glance. The great
tower, the most important of all the additions, was finished by
Richard Hotoun, who became prior in 1290; and who had also
the honour of completing the chapel of the Nine Altars. The
gi eat western window was the work of Prior John Fossour, about
1350, and the altar-screen, erected at the expense of John, Lord
Neville, was finislied in 1380 by Prior Berrington. It is painful to
have to record that such a building should ever have been allowed
to be touched by incompetent and ttisteless hands ; need we say that
they belong to the last century ? which, with its predecessor, esijoys
an eminence of a peculiar kind — they were, in all that concerns archi-
tectural art, tlie worst periods of Engli?;h modern history. Durham,
at tlie time to wliich we refer, underwent a tliorough repair, and we
suppose, in the ideas of the repairers, heautifijing—" Heaven save the
mark !" — and the result is in many parts too evident. Tiie
Galilee was also repaired by Cardinal Langley at the conmience-
ment of the fifteenth century, in the exquisitely-florid Gothic of
the time. The dimensions of tlie cathedral are four hundred and
eleven feet in length, eighty in breadth, and the main tower two
hundred and twelve in height. The interior, as usual, presents many
objects of high interest — as the sumptuous bishop's throne (Fig.
G02), the stone chair (Fig. 590), and above all, the common tomb
of St. Culhbert and of the Venerable Bede, the author of the
valuable Ecclesiastical History to which we are indebted for many
of the most interesting facts relating to the establishment of
Christianity and Christian houses and temples in England.

[Waltham Abbey and Saint Albans form a page of cuts imme-
diately following Durham. We postpone their description till we
have completed our notices of the earlier cathedra's.]

A curious story is told in explanation of the origin of Norwich
Catiiedrai,. During the reign of William Rufus, Herbert de
Lozingia, an eminent ecclesiastic, attracted towards himself a
degree of unpleasant attention from his spiritual superiors, whicli
ended in his being cited to appear before the Pope at Rome, to
answer for simoniacal practices, among which in particular was
alleged against him his purchase of the see of Thelford. The
punishment was at once characteristic and sensible, and involving
what we call poetical justice : he was commanded to build various
churches and monasteries at his own expense ; and thus Lozingia
f.)und enforced upon him a very arduous undertaking for the good of
llie chinch, when he had been intending to pursue what he conceived
to be more peculiarly his own good. Among tiie buildings so erected,
it seems, were the earliest cathedral of Norwich, and the monastery,
both commenced in 1094. Many of our important cities and foun-
dations are accustomed to boast of the public spirit and liberality of
their founders or early promoters; the city of Norwich, it will be
seen, may date much of its prosperity to qualities of a very opposite
kind. Lozingia, however, appears to have been a shrewd — perhap.-,
after the shame of the exposure, a repentant — man, and to have
performed the penance imposed upon him in so creditable a spirit
that he was ultimately allowed to transfer the bishopric of which
he had been deprived, Thetford, to Norwich, and was there con-
secrated the first bishop in the cathedral of his own erection. Of
tliis structure it has been supposed by some that we possess no
remains, on account of the presumed general destruction of the pile
in the extraordinary events that mark the history of Norwich in
connection with the year 1272. It appears that from a very early
period after the establishment of the monastery, quarrels had broken
out between the monks and the citizens, the former asserting their
entire independence within their own precincts, the latter maintain-
ing that tlie charter granted by Henry I. in 1122 gave them right
over every part of the city without exception. There was a fair
then held at certain times en a piece of ground called Totnbland,
wliich lay directly before the gates of the monastery : this spot
formed a very bone of contention between the two parties, and at
last the bad feelings excited broke out in sudden violence and blood-
shed. The monks and their retainers, it matters little which, fell
upon the citizens and killed seveial. The people of Norwich were
exasperated in the highest degree. An inquest was held upon
the bodies of the dead, a verdict of murder returned against those
who had killed them, and a warrant issued for their apprehension.
The monks — who seemed to have felt themselves quite safe
through the whole proceedings — now thought it necessary to refort
to more decided warfare; so having let loose the spiritual artillery
at their command, in the shape of a sweeping excommunication of
the entire body of citizens, they then took more ordinary weapons
into their hands, and amused themselves by picking off a passing
citizen, every now and then^ by a well-directed shot. If this was

CuAi: 11.]

OLD ENGLAND.

ic>a

their reading of their religious duties, it wa« only in strict Iceeping
that they should prefer ihe huliest day for the more important
deeds. On the Sunday Ijefore .St. Lawrence's-ihiy, tired of this
desultory warfare, tlie inoiiastie belligerents sallied fortli fron> their
iiigh-walled monastery, with a "great noise, and all tliat day and
night went in a raging maimer about the eity," liilling here and
there a merchant or other inhabitant, and plundering here and
fiiere a house. Th(?y finished l)y breaking open a tavern kept by
one Hugh de Broniliolni, where they drank all the wine they could,
and left the rest to run waste from the open ta|>s, and then these
good and faitliful servants returned to their admiring prior. Tiie
citizens appe.ar to have remained more patient than one mi^ht
expect under their provocations, till this last and worst of all. IJut
then the magistrates assembled, word was sent to the king of what
liad taken place, in order that he might give them redress, and in
the mean time a geiu^ral assemblage of tiie people was called for the
uext morning, to arrange measures of defence. They met — an
army in numbers, though unfortunately not in discipline. Before
llie diief persons of intluence could instil into their minds the in-
dispensable qualities of order, patience, and finnness, they were
borne away by some uncontrollable impulse of anger towards the
monastery, where they Hung themselves tumultuously against the
gates, and endeavoured to force an entrance. The prior resisted
for a while the raging storm of assailants, but at last they burnt
down the great gates of the close, with the church of St. Albert
that stood near, and then swept on, with redoubled energy and
determination to fire the chief conventual buildings. The almonry
was speedily in flames, tlien the church doors, then the great tower.
Many of the peojjle asceniled the neighbouring steeple of St.
George's, and from tiience, by means of slings, threw fiery missiles
into the great belfry, beyond the choir of the catliednil, and thus in
a short time the whole building was enveloped in Hanu-s. Besides Ihe,
injury done to the building, the monastery lost all its gold and silver
ornaments, its costly vestments, holy vessels, and library of books ; for
".vhat the fire spared, was carried off by the incendiaries. Most of the
monks fled, but the sub-dean, and some of the clerks and laymen, were
killed, where they were met with, in the cloisters and in the precincts ;
others were huriied into the city, to share the .same bloody fate;
and some were imprisoned. The prior fled to Yiirmouth, but it
was in order that he might return with fresh strength, and take
full vengeance for the sufferings his own disgraceful conduct had
brought upon tlie monastery. He entered Norwich with sword
and trumpet in hand— what a picture of the priest militant ! — and fell
upon Ihe people in their own way, with fire and sword ; and having
satiated himself, withdrew, to wait, and consider, like the men of
Korwich, now that all was over between themselves, what would
not both have to answer for to a third party, the government of
the eouniry — in other words, the king. Even-lianded justice was
luidoubtedly to be dreaded by both ; but that was just the sort of
justice that was seldom dispensed when church and laity stood as
the disputants on either side of the judgment-scat. nenrj''s first
proceeding was enough to show the citizens what they might expect.
He summoned a meeting of the hierarchy, at Eye in Suffolk ; and
the result was, that an interdict was laid upon the town generally ;
all pei-soiis directly concerned in the riots were excommunicated ;
thirty-four persons were drawn through the streets by horses, and
dashed to pieces ; others were hanged, drawn, and quartered, and
afterwards burnt; and a woman who was recognised as having set
fire to the gates, was burnt alive. And, as on all such occasions
in the mi idle ages, there must be a something forthcoming for
the royal treasury, why, twelve of the men of Norwich, no doubt
the verj' richest that could be in any way implicated, were mulcted
of their possessions. Such was ihe punishment of the people ;
what was the sentence against their opponents and oppressors, who
had so recklessly provoked their fury ? The prior's conduct was
evidently too bad to be altogether looked over, so he was sent to
prison for a short time, and whilst there resigned his priory. And
tliat was all. The church did not even suffer in its revenues.
Before the interdict was taken off, the citizens were compelled to
pay three thousand marks towards the re-edifying of the cathedral,
and one hundred pounds in money, for a pix, or cup of gold, weigh-
ing ten pounds.

It is strange and lamentable that, after this tragical event, no
wise and statesman-like measures wore carried into effect to prevent
their recurrence for the future; and although the scenes of 1272
were never repeated, the cause of all the jealousy and ill-feeling
remained in active operation down to the time of Cardinal AVolsey,
when the city formally resigned all jurisdiction within the priory
walls ; and the priory all power without them. That was just
before the Reformation, which settled the matter in its own sum-

mary fashion, by quietly d.dng away with Ihe monutcry allogcUwr.
It had been sup|)OM5d, we re|)eal, that ilie cbureb built by I.u/iiigia
was entirely de»troyed in tWtt fire, and tliat the prcf^ut must iiave
been erected in its place. But it is axtoiiisking liuw any urie wbu
had even looked at the cathedral could allow biins«ir for a mororui
to doubt that the original edifice is still preserved iu us. 'I'lio
wood-work, decorations, &c., must ceitainly have been dcsirujcd,
and the structure, generally, seriously injured ; but not so seriously
xs to involve anything like a rebuilding of the whole, for a more
characteristically Norman edifice does not exist in the counity
than the present cathedral of Norwich ; and it would be absu.-d
to suppose that such a style would have been ailopled at the close
of the thirteenth century, when Puinte<l architecture was gUiu^
us some of its most exquisite examples of the perfection to which
it had attaincKl. The very plan of Norwich is as unniiiitakably
Norman as the buildings envied on it, — transept witlioui aitles or
pillars, choir extending beneath the tower in the centre of Ihe
structure, into the very nave itself, circular eastern extremity, fonn-
ing within a chancel with side aisles running round it, and circular
chapels. It is, in a woni, the ver}° decided Norman character of Nor-
wich that makes it, notwithstanding its smaller size and comparalively
undecorated aspect, its decayed surface, and cramped position, one of
the most interesting of our cathedrals. The length of the whole
building is four hundred and eleven feet ; and Ihe lower, one of the
finest specimens of decorated Norman extant, rises with its spire,
which is of later date, to the great height of three hundred aud
thirteen feet. One single ancient statue-tomb of an enriched ch.i-
racter, and one such only, is to be found in the church — Bishop
Goldwell's, shown in Fig. 620. The plain aspect of the caihc«inil
may, no doubt, be in a great degree attributed to the injuries dune
in the time of the civil war. Bishop Hall, the satirist, who suf>
fered from both parlies, not being apparently [mrtisan enough for
either, h;is given us an interesting account of what look pbce.
In his ' Hard Mcisure,' he says, " It is tragical to relate the
furious sacrilege committed under the authority of Lin>cy, Tofu
the Sheriff, and Greenwood : what clattering of glasses, wlial beat*
ing down of walls, what leatingdown of monuments, what pulling
down of seals, and wresting out of irons and bra.'^ from the windown
and graves ! — what defacing of arms, « hat demolishing of curioiu
stone-work that had not any representation in' the world, but of Ihe
cost of the founder and the skill of the mason ! what piping on
the destroyed organ-pipes ! Vestments, both cope* and surplices,
together with the leaden cover, which had been newly cut down
from over the fjreenyard pulpit, and the singing-books and service-
books were carried to the fire in the public market-place ; a lewd
wretch walking before the train in his cope, trailing in the dirt
with a service-book in his hand, imitating in an impious scorn the
tone, and usurping the words of Ihe Liturgy. The ordnance being
discharged on the guild-day, tho cathedral was filled with mus-
keteers, drinking and tobacconing as freely as if it liad tarued
alehouse."

An interesting appendage of t!iu monastery remains on the soulb
side of the cathedral, — a cloister, also of later dale than Ihe original
buildings, forming a large quadrangle with a handsome door-
way and lavatories. But the most striking feature of the locality
is the Erpingham gateway, a truly su))crb work. Few but will
remember the name of the founder as that of the gallant knight
of Henry V.'s army, who, while commanding the archers at
Agincourt, had the honour of giving the signal for ihe first mo-
mentous forward movement, which he did by throwing lib
truncheon high into the air, and exclaiming " Now strike !" And
they did strike, and with such effect that the French never through
the conflict recovered from the blow thus given by the bowmen
of England under their gray-headeil leader at the verj- outset.
Considering how great a favourite Sir Thomas was with the victoi
of Agincourt, and the treatment that Lord Cubham received
during the same reign for his religious heresy, it is a curious and
noticeable circumstance in Sir Thomas's hblory to find that he loo
at one time had been dallying with the proscribe<l Lollard principles,
and had exerted himself to promote their diffusion. But Ilenr}
Spencer, the " warlike Bishop of Norwich," then ruled over the
diocese, who would fain have pursued as short a way with the fol
lowers of Wickliffe as he did with those of Wat Tyler. In iliat
most famous of English insurrections, Ihe bishop, unlike many of
the more powerful nobles, who shut themselves up in iheir strong
castles, went forth with his retainers to meet the rcvolters in the
field, where he speedily overthrew them ; then, having senlenc«d
them in crowds to the scaffold, he laid aside tlie warrior and judg^
and became the ministering priest to his own victims, and exerted
himself as busily to save their souls as to destroy their bodies.

G'il.— From the Prior's Oato
Cloisters, Norwich.

623. - Early English Capital,
Norwich.

C25.~Figi]re over Ihe Entrance
to the Transept, Norwich.

620.— Edgy of Bishop aoldwcU, Norwich CathedraL

622.- From the Prior's Qati
Cloisters, Norwich.

624.— Norman Base, Norwich.

C20.— Arcade, North Transept,
Norwich.

627.— Finlal, Norwich.

619.— Cathedral of Norwich.

023.- Gable Cross, Norwlol

•'^-^'■;^@rf?:^;fc-..

[989.— Norman Arcade, Norwich.

030.- Norman Capital, East End'of
Gallery, Norwich.

631.— Arcade, Norwich.

164

«3t.— Todor Btigu, SbtiM of Flloo* Aribnr, WoiSHMr •

814.— Capllui and Due, Woicttter.

«3«v-CM««» -i ■ill. f>i|iiii nmii w.

637.— EUct of King John
Worecstcr.

VJJ. — Kutg J

165

1()6

OLD ENGLAND.

[Be

When such a man declared that if he found any Lullards in his
diocese, lie would make them hop headless, or frj' a faggot, to use
his own suitable mode of expressing his benignant sentiments,
there was no possibility of mistake as to the matter. Lollardism
might be safe enough, but it was assuredly a dangerous time and
place for the Lollards. Sir Thomas Erpiiigham seems to have felt
this, and to have desisted in time, when he found tliat not all his
popularity deterred the bishop from throwing liim into prison : so
he agreed, as the price of his release, to erect a gatehoui^e at the
entrance of tlie precinct, over against the west end of the cathedral,
and renounce all heresies for the future. Hence the erection of the
gateway shown in our engraving (Fig. 60j).

The matter altogether was deemed of such importance, that
. Henry IV. took steps publicly to reconcile the knight and the
oisliop, first by declaring in parliament that tiie proceedings had
been good, and that they had originated in great zeal, and then
by directing them to shake hands and kiss each other in token
of friendship, wliich fliey did. The reconciliation, unlike such
forced ones generally, turned out real, for Sir Thomas became as
willincr, a-i he had already been an unwilling, benefactor to the
cathedral; and one of the bequests of his will was a provision of
three hundred marks to ths prior and convent of Norwich, to found
a chantry for a monk to sing daily mass for him and his fcimily
before the altar of the holy cross in the cathedral. It has been
supposed, from tlie circumstance that his wife, who died four years
after Sir Thomas's imprisonment, made no mention in her will of
saints, as was usual, that it was her influence which had led the
kni"ht towards Lollardism, ratiicr than any powerful inherent con-
victions of his own. If so, it ought to be no imputation on his
moral courage that he declined making a martyr of himself. One
should be very sure what one does think, when stakes and bonfires
begin :o argue. The interest attached to this gateway, as well as
its remarkable beauty, induce us to dwell for a few seconds on its
details. Jlr. Britton, in his work on Norwich Cathedral, thus
speaks of it : — " Amongst the great variety of subjects and designs
isi the ecclesiastical architecture of England, the Erpingham gate-
way may be regarded as original and unique ; and cimsidering the
state of society when it was first raised, and the situation chosen,
we are doubly, surprised, first at the richness and decoration of
t!ie exterior face, and secondly, in beholding it so perfect and
uinnutilated after a lapse of four centuries. The arohivolt mould-
ings, spandrils, and two derai-octangular buttresses, are covered
with a profusion of ornamental sculptures, among which are thirty
small statues of men and women, various shields of arms, trees,
birds, pedestals, and canopies ; most of these are very perfect, and
some of the figures are rather elegant. The shields are charged
with the arms of Erpingham, Walton, and Clopton, tlie two latter
being the names of two wives of Sir Thomas Erpingham. In the
spandiils are shields containing emblems of the Crucifixion, the
Trinity, the Passion, &c., while each buttress is crowned with a
sitting btatue, one said to repre-eiit a secular, and the other a
regular priest, &c." Tlie first of these priests has a book in his
hand, from which he appears to be teaching the youth standing at
his side. The regular priest has also his book, but appears to be
making no use of it, and turns his eyes idly upon the passengers
who may go through the gate. 151oomfield, the historian of the
county, thinks this was subtiUy designed by Sir Thomas " to signify
that the secular clergy not only laboured themselves in the world,
but diligently taught the growing youth, to the benefit of the world ;
when the idle regular, who by his books also pretended to learning,
did neither instruct any nor inform himself, by which he covertly
lashed those that obliged him to their penance, and praised those that
had given him instruction in the way of truth." Sir Thomas himself
kneels in effigy in the pediment of the gateway, a reinarkable
instance to after-times of the power exerted by the clergy of his
own day.

In simplicity, we may say plainness of decoration, the exterior
of Worcester Cathedral presents a striking contrast to that of
Exeter, whicii we shall presently notice. The outlines of the form
are light and beautiful, and the large size gives them grandeur ; but
those objects achieved, the architects, unlike the architects of our ca-
thedrals generally, seem to have rested content, and to have shunned
altogether that elaborate richness of decoration which so generally
characterizes these works, and which show so happily the unwearied
desires of all concerned to be constantly doing something to render
art more worthy of its sublime objects. They were surely the least
conceited of men, those old ecclesiastical builders: it is a fine lesson
they have bequeathed to the world, and usable in a thousand ways.
The :oblest temples ever raised by human hands were raised by

them ; works t'lat, to all eyes but their own, not only in tluir o'vn
time, but to all time, present and future, appeared and must appe.u
essentially perfect, demanding but one thought and sentiment, — yet
compounded of a host of thoughts and sentiments, — admiration, to
them, on the contrary, appeared to be but so many centres of study
and improvement. Art was long, and life was short, they saw ;
and Ihey were content, therefore, to labour, each in his allotted space,
in the raising of great works for others, and thought notliiiig of
making great names for themselves. It is curious to see at how
early a period a kind of antagonist feeling, a desire to check ratlier
than to participate in such enthusiasm, exhibited itself at Worcester.
We may premise that the see of Worcester was founded so early as
the seventh century, by Ethelred, King of Mercia, and probably a
church then existed in the city, on the site of the present building.
In 969 the endowments of the cathedral were removed to the
church of St. Mary's convent, which then assumed the rank pre-
viously attached to St. Peter's, but the latter building, or rather its
site, obtained, a few years later, the restoration of its privileges ;
St. Oswald having, however, first built a new church in the burial-
ground. This was burnt by the followers of Hardicanute in 1041,
and replaced by an entirely new edifice, erected by Bishop Wulstan.
As the workmen were pulling down the remains of the spoiled
cliurch, the prelate was noticed weeping. One of his attendants
told him he ought rather to rejoice, since he was preparing an
edifice of greater splendour and more suitable to the enlarged
number of his monks. He replied, " I think far otherwise ; we
poor wretches destroy the works of our forefathers, only to got
praises to ourselves ; that happy age of holy men knew not how to
build stately churches, but under any roof they offered up them-
selves living temples unto God, and by their examples incited those
under their care to do the same ; but we, on the contrary, neglecting
the cure of souls, labour to heap up stones." One might fancy liiat
the feeling thus evidenced remained in force at Worcester througli
all succeeding alterations and reparations, and more particularly
those consequent on the extensive damage done in the fires of 1113
and 1202, when both city and cathedral were burnt: and that the
plain exterior tjiat we, behold to this day at Worcester is in itsell
but an fcvitlence of it. The works carried on after the fire of 1 102
were so important, that the structure was newly consecrated ; and
it is that building which forms our cathedral. The plan of Wor-
cester is on a very grand scale. It represents a double cross, tiie
extreme length of which is five hundred and fourteen feet, with a
noble tower, rising from the intersection of the nave,choir, and western
transept, to the height of two hundred feet. This tower is the most
embellished of all the exterior portions. The interior is remarkably
light and airy. It is rich in both ancient and modern monuments
among the latter, tliere being several by our modern sculptors, as
Roubilliac and the younger Bacon ; and among the former, tiiose of
Sir John Beaucharap of Holt, beheaded on Tower Hill in the reign
of Henry "V., and of his lady, botii striking examples of early
costume ; Jilso of Lady Harcourt (Fig. 638), Judge Littleton, Prince
Arthur (the son of Henry VII.), and King John. The Prince lies
buried in a beautiful chapel of highly ornamented open work, the
decorations of which are representative of the union of the white and
red roses of York and Lancaster. Tlie tomb of John (Fig. 633),
the great object of interest and inquiry with all visitors, stands in
the middle of the choir. Before the year 1797 it has been supposed
that the remains of the king had been interred in the Lady Chapel,
but as an opportunity then offered, during some alteration, of deter-
mining the point, an investigation took place of no ordinary interest.
Tiie effigy on the top (Fig. 637) was first removed, witii the stone
slab on which it rested ; the interior was thus laid open, wiiere two
brick partition walls were discovered, raised no doubt for the more
efl^ectual support of the superincumbent mass. After clearing away
a quantity of rubbish, and removing one end and a pannel at each
side, a stone coffin was found between the brick walls; and wlien
that was opened, the remains of the monarch were visible, much
decayed, and witli some of the smaller bones no longer seen, but
the whole presenting an almost exact counterpart of the effigy
on the exterior of the tomb. The only differences were the
gloves on the hands, and the covering on the head, whicli consisted
of a crown on the effigy, and of the celebrated monk's cowl on the
body, placed there before burial, as a passport through the regions
of purgatory. A feeling of the same kind actuated the fierce and
bold, but superstitious king, wlien he desired that his resting-place in
his favourite church sliould be between the bodies of St. Oswald
and St. Wulstan, whose effigies, in small, also grace his tomb ;
the evil spirits, he fancied, would not venture into such company,
even to seize him. The hood appeared to have fitted the head
exactly, and to have been tied or buckled under the chin by straps.

ClIAP. II.]

OLD ENGLAND.

167

parts of wliich remained. Tiie body liud bi-eu wrapped in an em-
broidered robe, reacliirifj from llio neck to tiie feet, mode, it was
supposed, of crimson damask, but the cuff, greatly decayed, alone
remained. Tragments of tlie sword and of the scabbani were alM>
found. On tiie lugs there iiail been some kind of ornamental
covering tied round tlie ancles, and extending over the feet, where
the toes were vi.sible througli its decayed part«. Tiie exposure of
tiie relics of kingly mortality caused tlieir .speedy destruction, the
whole mouldering to dust. On ascending tlio steps of the altar,
visitors are .shown another object of curiosity — tiiu .stone covering
tlie body of William Uuke of llnmilloii, who fell in the memorable
battle of WorcaUer, in 1G51. In tlie tower is a fine peal of eight
bells, each bearing a different inscription. On the last wo read: —

I, sweetly tolling, men do call

Tu tnsto a meat thitt feeds the soul.

The changes which the names of places have undergone are
ofieu strikingly illustrative of the vast extent of lime over whicli
the annals of such places extend; Exeter forms a reiiiarkuble
case ill point. In the Caer-Isc of the 15ritons, signifying the
town on the water, we are carried back to the very beginning
of all, when the founders in tliat, as in so many other instances,
took as their name for the new place some characteristic circum-
stance of position. Then in the Isea of the Romans, a Latinized
version of the same thing, we are reminded of the dominion of the
conquerors of the world. Another change shows us the lloman
empire in Great Britain at an end, though the memory of that
dominion is preserved in the Saxon Exaneestre, that is to say, the
Castle oil the Ex : from this we pass finally into the great stream
of modem history, as we begin to meet with the comparatively
luodeni appellation of Exeter. The ecclesiastical antiquity of the
city is no less noticeable ; another name ascribed to Exeter —
Monketon — seems to show that even in the Saxon times it had
become distinguished for the number of these religious ascetics
w!io resided in it. This very remoteness of origin may be the
cause why we have been left uncertain of the precise time when
the earliest building on the site of the cathedral was begun. All
we know on the subject is, that soon after the junction of the sees
of Devon and Cornwall, the seat of the united bishopric was
removed to Exeter, and Leofric, the bishop, installed with great
))omp into the cathedral, in the presence of the Confessor and his
queen, both of whom took a prominent share in the ceremony. In
1050, then, the date of this event, there was a cathedral standing
in Exeter, but whether recently erected or no is unknown. After
the Conquest we find Warlewast, one of the followers of "William,
busily at work altering and enlarging during the early part of the
twelfth century. Happily for him, he did not live to see his
labours rendered of no avail by the mischief done to the cathedral
during the time Exeter was besieged by Stephen in 1136, and
wliicl; rendered it necessary for his successor, Chichester, to com-
mence a reparation on the most extensive scale. He seems to have
been the very man for the time and the task imposed upon him.
A remarkable proof of his zeal, and which was probably exercised
in favour of the rebuilding of the cathedral, is given in the state-
ment that ho was accustomed to go abroad very frequently in
pilgrimage, sometimes to Rome, and sometimes to other places,
" and ever would bring with him some one relic or other."
(Bishop Godwin.) During the lifetime of Chichester and the
three succeeding prelates, the calhedral works were steadily carried
on ; the last of them. Bishop Marshall, whose sculptured effigy is
seen in Fig 647, having the honour of completing the whole
before his death in 1206. Whether the large sums of money that
had been constantly, and for so long a time, pouring into the
Exchequer had begotten something like a love of wealth for other
tliaii clnireh purposes in the minds of the chief oflficers, we shall not
venture to decide, but a few years after the religious world was
greatly scandalized at some discoveries made at Exeter. Richard
Blondly, a recently-deceased bishop, "a man of mild spirit, but
very stout against such as in his time did offer any injury to the
church," had, it appeared, waxed weaker as he grew older, and
allowed his chancellor, registrar, official, and keeper of the seal,
with other of the household, to obtain conveyances from him of
various estates, advowsons, &c., that then were in his disposition ;
and for their own private and general benefit. The business was
transacted with great secrecy and skill ; but the next bishop dis-
covered the whole, and in place of their enjoying the nice little
pickings provided, all the great officers of Exeter Cathedral found
themselves soon after excommunicated, and doing public penance
in their own building openly, upon Palm Sunday, as the indis-

pensable preliminary to tlieir readmiiwion into the Cliristmn body.
Ik'fore long, however, the nuuon* were again Uiickly cluttering
about the cathedral wall« and foundaliuiui ; and briujjiiig tlM
structure to the plan and the itaic in which a conitiderable portion
uf it remains to this day. Peter Quivil was tli« bi«hup who tbiM
signalized him.self by commencing the great undertaking of bring-
ing the old-fashioned cathedral into better liarmoiiy with ibe
architectural knowledge and tuittes of the thirteenth c«;nlury. lie
may be, indeed, almont called the author of the preM-nt cathedral,
for what portions of it were untouched by Ulra, and executed after-
wards, were built in pursuance of hU designs. Ilow extensive
tlie.su were, may be shown by simply stating tliat the renovation in
the new style, begun by him between 1281 and 1201, and whidi
was ended by Bishop Brentingham, about a century later, extended
to every part of the structure, the towers alone excepted. Bishop*
Stapledon and Grandisson, during this [>eriod, particularly dis-
tinguished them.selves by their architectural lubourt. Godwin
furnishes ns with some interesting particulars of the iitstallalion of
I a bishop in the early ages, in his notice of Stapledon's induction to
the see. At the east gate he alighted fioin his horse, and went on
foot to the cathedral; black cloth having been previously laid
along the streets for him to walk u)>on. Two gentlemen of
" great worship," one on each side, accompanied him, and Sir llugb
Courtney, of the great family of that name, who claimed to be
steward of the feast, went before. At Broad-gate he was received
by the chapter and choir, all richly apparelled, and singing the Te
Deum ; and thus they led him to the church. After the service
and the usual ceremonies, all parties adjourned to the Bishop's
Palace, where a feast, such as the middle ages alone could furnish,
was provided. "It is incredible," Godwin remarks, "how many
oxen, tuns of ale and wine, are said to have been usually spent
at this kind of solemnity." Stapledon's feast would, no doubt, be
more than usually magnificent and expensive; for, wliatever hi*
faults, something like princely liberality seems to have been one o(
his characteristic merits.

Exeter College, OxfonI, was founded by him, and originally
called by his name : Hart Ilall, in the same university, also derive*
its origin from Bishop Stapledon. Unfortunately for him, he wa< a
busy statesman, as well as a zealous prelate. Having held posts of
high honour under Edward II., he was found among the adherents
of that unhappy prince when, towards the close of the reign, bis
queen, son, brothers, and cousin marched at the head of an army
against him. Edward was in London, and apiKsiled to the citizens,
but they gave him so decisive a rebuff, that he fltd precipitately,
leaving the Bishop of Exeter, Stapledon, as governor. He had
scarcely reached the outskirts when the people rose, and, putting a-«:de
all opposition, obtained possession of the bishop, and of his brother
Sir Richard Stapledon, and executed them both in Cheapside, on
the 15th of October, 1326. In the north ai.-le of the cathe<lral are
two splendid monuments facing each other; they are llio^e of the
two brothers. The choir is the princijKil portion that we owe to
Bishop Stapledon. The gorgeous west front, with its almost inter-
minable series, in double tier, of sculptured kings, propheU, apostles,
prelates, and distinguished persons, forming one of the richest
architectural facades in Europe, is under.-tood to have been raised
by Bishop Grandisson, who " sequt-tei ing himself from all idle
persons," is said to have "kept no more about him than were ab-
solutely necessary, in order to compass the charge of such mighty
works ; likewise, assembling his own clergy, he persuaded them to
bequeath all their goods, &c., to the building of the mother-church
of the dioce,-e." After this last circumstance, one need not wonder
that he should also be able to prevail " on sundry temporal men to
give of their store."

The building, whose gradual formation we have thus traced, now
consists of a nave, seventy-sis feet wide and one hundred and
seventy-five feet long, with corresponding aisles at the sides; two
short transepts formed in a peculiar way, namely by two towers, of
unmistakeable Norman original, and therefore, to an antiquary, the
most interesting parts of the cathedral ; a choir of the same breadth
as the nave, and one hundred and twenty -eight feet long ; to these
— the principal feature of the place — must be added, ten chapels,
of which the Lady, or St. Mary's Chai»el, at the eastern end, is ihe
most important, and the chapter-house. It is hardly necessary to
say the interior is in many resjiecU surpassingly noble and beautiful.
The delicate and numberiess pillars, clustering together into so many
solid groups for the supjKjrt of the nave and choir, always a
beautiful illustration of a beautiful thought, the power resulting
from union, seem to particularly arrest our attention in Exeter
Cathedral. The choir and nave are divided by a screen of the
most exquisite character. The chapter-house is, as usual, very

641.— Bracket, Exeter.

613— Section of Shaft,
Exeter.

639.— West Front of Exeter Catliedn

«12.— Bracket. Exeter.

644.— Section of Shaft,
Exeter.

15.— Bracket, Rxeter.

646 — Bracket, Exeter.

64V.— Efflgy of Bishop Marshall, Exeter.

168

610.— E.ieter Cathedral.

048.— Efflgy of Bishop Barlloloinew, Exeter.

iV^figryWlifflJIIi

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To. 22.

650.— WatFnmtofBocbaitcrOtUKdna.

CM.— EmblcnuUc Finn of Om Voak 1
Fhn tbe Dogr o( the a

16*

170

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book IL

beautiful ; its roof is of oak. The windows of tlie cathedral
generally are very laijje, and some of them strikingly iiandsorae,
tvith their stained glass. Among the lesser objects of attraction
the cathedral presents, may be mentioned the organ, which is
probably the largest in Europe, the Haarlem only excepted, and
without any exception tiie finest in tone ; the clock in the north
tower, which exhibits all the moon's pliases, as well as the ordinary
time of the day ; the great bell, said to weigh twelve thousand five
hundred pounds ; the episcopal tlirone, an almost unique example of
carved wood-work, forming, as it does, a magnificent pyramid
fifty-two feet high, built up of arches, pillars, niches, pannels,
crockets, and foliated ornaments ; and lastly, the Minstrels' Gallery,
near the middle of the choir, supported by thirteen pillars, with a
niche between each two, containing a statue of a musician playing
on some instrument. The monastery, we may notice in conclusion,
belonged to the Benedictine Order.

Lambarde, the old Kentish topographer, has a curious passage in
his ' Perambulation,' on the subject of the comparative insignifi-
cance of the diocese of Rochester. " The learned in astronomy,"
he says, " be of the opinion that if Jupiter, Mercury, or any other
planet, approach within certain degrees of the sun, and be burned
(as they term it) under his beams, that then it hath in manner no
influence at all, but yieldelh wholly to the sun that overshineth it ;
and some men, beholding the nearness of these two bishoprics,
Canterbury and Rochester, and comparing the bright glory, pomj),
and primacy of the one, with the contrary altogether in the other,

' have fancied Rochester so overshadowed and obscured, that they
reckon it no see or bishopric of itself, but only a place of a mere
suPfrao-an, and chaplain to Canterbury. But he that shall either
advisedly weigii the first institution of them both, or but indiffer-
ently consider the estate of either, shall easily find that Rochester
hath not only a lawful and canonical cathedral see of itself, but
that the same was also more honestly won and obtained than even
that of Canterbury was." "Worthy Master Lambarde's enthusiasm
here probably carries him a little too far : however, the history of

, Rocliester shows decidedly enough that its claims to respect and
attention are little if at all inferior to the claims of its more poten-
tial neio'hboiir, great as those are. Both were founded under the
auspices of the same royal convert from paganism to Christianity,
Ethelbert ; and if Canterbury had an Augustine for its first spi-
ritual superior, Rochester had for its first bishop one of Augustine's
companions, Justus. Whilst, tiierefore, it was natural enough that
the former should rise to the very summit of ecclesiastical wealth
and power, it was really extraordinary that the latter should as
steadily decline till it became what it remains, — the smallest,
poorest, and least influential of Englisii sees. The particular
causes of this declension appear to have been the wars between the
different states of the Heptarcliy, then the incursions of the Danes,
which left the church in such a state at tlie time of the Conquest
that Divine worship was entirely neglected in it, and the four or
five secular canons, who then remained nominally attached to it,
found it necessary to eke out their means of subsistence by the
alms of the benevolent. The Conqueror, however, still found
something to pillage and confer upon his relative, Bishop Odo ; and
the see seemed about to perish altogether, when Lanfranc, the
Archbishop of Canterbury, endeavoured to check the downward
progress of Rochester by the appointment of a monk of the Abbey
of Bee, for the avowed purpose of achieving a resti)ration of the
old estates and prosperity ; and though he died shortly after, his
successor was Gundulpli, of whom Lambarde says : " He never
rested from building and begging, tricking and garnishing, until
he had erected his idol building to the wealth, beauty, and estima-
tion of a popish priory." He too was chosen by Lanfranc from the
Abbey of Bee ; and a tradition recorded by "William of Malmesbury
gives us an interesting glimpse of tiie two friends before the con-
quest of England was dreamt of, and before, therefore, either had
any idea of the ftmre power that would be reposed in their hands.
The historian says that Lanfranc foretold Gundulph's advance-
ment by a trial of the Sortes Evangelica:, that is to say, opening
the book of the Gospels at haphazard, and taking the first text on
which the eye rests as the prophetic one. Gnndulph, like "William
of "Wykeham, was one of those ecclesiastics who shed a glory upon
the middle ages, by their liappy union of compreliensive intellects
to devise- and firm purposes to carry out measures of high importance
to the general weal. Whilst he did almost everything for Rochester,
recovering, witli the assistance of Lanfranc, its former possessions,
obtaining the grant of new ones, building a castle, and rebuilding
the cathedral, lie signalized himself in otiier quarters by the
foundation of a nunnery (at AVest Mailing) and by the erection of

the famous White Tower, the nucleus around which all the
assemblages of buildings now known as the Tower of London has
gradually grown up. Among his other doings at Rochester, he
removed the secular canons, and replaced them by Benedictine
monks ; and he obtained for the monastery, from Henry L, the
privilege of coining. And that was not the only royal favour
conferred upon it, and commemorated- in the statues of the king
and queen in the magnificent doorway of the cathedral. Gundulph
who appears to have been confessor to the queen, Matilda, obtained,
through her means, many gifts and privileges from her husband.
The cathedral was in the main completed during the lifetime of
Gundulph, who died in March 1 107-8, and was buried in his episcopal
vestments with great splendour before the altar of the crucifix
placed at the entrance of the choir ; but the whole does not appear
to have been considered finished till 1130, when, on the day of
Ascension, a solemn and magnificent dedication of the pile to St.
Andrew took place in the presence of King Henry, assisted by all
the chief prelates of. the country. The cathedral was originally
" dedicated to St. Andrew as a token of respect to the monastery of
St. Andrew at Rome, from which Augustine and his brethren were
sent to convert the Anglo-Saxons ; and after the church was
rebuilt, Lanfranc did not change the name of its tutelary saint,
as he did in his own cathedral, the primate having such confidence
in this apostle, that he never transmitted by Gundulph any principal
donation without entreating the bishop to chant the Lord's Prayer
once for him at the altar of St. Andrew." [' Denne's Memoirs of
the Cath. Church of Rochester.'] The festival of St. Andrew
was of course kept with great splendour in the monastery ; and
Gundulph, to enhance the proceedings of the day, made special
provision for it, by appointing that there should be reserved out of
the estates that he had caused to be settled upon tlie establishmekf,
what was called a Xenium, from a Greek word signifying a
present given in token of hospitality, Gundulph's Xenium seens
to have been a very handsome affair, consisting of sixteen hogs,
cured for bacon, thirty geese, three hutidred fowls, one thousand
lampreys, one thousand eggs, four salmon, and sixty bundles of
furze, with a large quantity of oats, &c., the whole apparently
intended for the entertainment in the bishop's palace of the poor,
and strangers generally ; for Gundulph expressly says, " If it
should happen, contrary to my wishes, that I, or any of my succes-
sors, shall be absent from the feast, then, in God's name and my
own, I order that the whole Xenium be carried to the hall of St.
Andrew, and there, at the discretion of the prior and brethren of
the clmrch, be distributed to the strangers and poor, in honour of
the festival." The fate of this Xenium forms but one of the many
illustrations that the history of our country unhappily furnishes of
the fate of the unprotected poor : this provision for a festal day,
which must have lightened so many weary spirits by its enjoyments,
if it did not even relieve many empty stomachs by its store of food,
was ultimately treated as a matter that merely concerned the
bishops and the monastery ; and hotly enough they disputed it,
till the former consented to receive a composition in money in lieu
of the provisions in kind : of course we should now look in vain in
Rochester for any " open house," ecclesiastical or otherwise, whether
on St. Andrew's or on any other day. Of Gundulph's works in
the cathedral, the nave forms tiie principal existing remain, many
of the other portions having been seriously injured by the destruc-
tive fires that have taken place in Rocliester. On the north side of
the choir, between the two transepts, there is also a low square
tower now in ruins, and known as Gundulph's, the walls of which
are six feet thick. It has been doubted, however, whether this was
really erected by the architect in question. Parts of the cathedral
are recorded as having been built by persons designated simply as
monks, rich men, no doubt, who iiad retired to the cloister of St.
Andrew, sick of the vanities and turmoil of active life, and there
expended their possessions in the adornment of the house of God.
Richard of Eastgate, and Thomas of Mepeham, were the monks
who restored and rebuilt the north side of the west transept, after
the great fire of 1179 ; Richard of Waledene the monk, who, about
the commencement of the thirteenth century, completed what they
had begun by the erection of the south side. How tiie upper
transept and choir came to be re-erected, in the reigns of John and
Henry III., forms a curious story, and one strikingly illustrative
of the time. In 1201 a rich, benevolent, and pious tradesman, a
baker, named William, set out with his servant to perform a pil-
grimage to Jerusalem. On the road to Canterbury, a little beyond
Rochester, the servant murdered his master, and fled with tlie
property, which had tempted him to the commission of the crime.
The corpse was found and taken back to Rochester, where a fate
awaited it that the unfortunate William had cer*aiiily never autici-

LEIGIITON, DUOS.

CHOIR OF ELY CATHEDRAL.

Chap. IL]

OLD ENGLAND.

171

pated. The monks were probably at the time very anxious to enhance
the repiKalion of tlicir moiiuiitvry and church in any way tliey could,
and particularly by rebuilding the parts of the latter that had been
damaged in tlie fires, and were therefore quite prepared to appre-
ciate any remarkable circumstance that might happen in connection
with their extablishinent. And such it seems now occurretl when
the body of William the baker was placed in the cathedral.
Miracles — of wiiat nature is not recorded — were wrought at his
tomb, tiie repute of which, spreading far and wide, brought hosts
of <li'vote('s to Uochester, whose oH'erings fille<l the treasury, and
gave the monks the necessary funds for the erection of the parts of
the cathedral we have mentioned, or, in other words, the whole of
(he cathedral eastward of tiie west transept. In 1254 the Pope
canoniittsl the munlered traveller, and granted indulgences to all
who should visit and make offerings to his slirine, — circumstances
that naturally gave a new impetus to the popularity of the tomb
and cathedral. The northern part of the east transept, known as
.St. William's Chapel, preserves to this day the remembrance of
these events. The tomb itself has disappeared, though the spot
where it stood is marked by a slab in the centre of a square, formed
of curiously-figured mosaics. Pilgrims reached the chapel by a
.small (hiik aisle, which, after passing between the choir and
Gundulph's tower, opens into the former. Midway in the aisle is
a flight of steps, worn down to something very like an inclined
plane by the innumerable feet that have trodden them. The
destruction of the tomb probably took place at the Reformation,
when the church generally received considerable damage. During
the Civil War the fabric was still more seriously injured by the
soldiers of the parliament. These are said to have converted one
portion of the cathedral into a carpenter's shop, and another into a
tippling- house. From such unpleasant reminiscences it is doubly
gratifying to pass to the consideration of the recent doings at
Kochester, where the Dean and Chapter have shown that they are
fully conscious of the valuable nature of the trust reposed in their
hands, and (leterniine<l to exhibit that consciousness practically.
In 1825 a central tower was erected at the intersection of the
principal transept, whilst within the last three or four years the
niterior has undergone a comprehensive repair, including many
unportant restorations of the old details of the structure, such as
windows and arches, long filled up, but now once more ditlu>ing a
sense of lightness and gracefulness around. The north transept, or
St. William's Chapel, has in consequence again become what it
originally was, one of the most interesting and beautiful specimens
of early English architecture that England anywhere possesses.

The other pnrts of the cathedral eastward are less decorated,
and all those westward, including the nave and west front, are in
the main Norman. Of course the perpendicular window in that
front (Fig. 6,"i0) is the introduction of a much later time. The
exceeding richness of the gateway beneath, when the stone was as
yet undecayed, and the sculpture exhibited the faithful impress of
the artist's hand, is evident at a glance even in the present state.
The Chapter House, now in ruins, also exhibits some remarka'oly
fine sculpture, among which may be mentioned the statue of Augus-
tine iti the doorway. The dimensions of the cathedral are small
when compared with those of cathedrals generally. The entire
length is three hundretl and six feet, breadth of the nave and side
aisles sixty-six feet, breadth of the west front eighty-one feet.
There are numerous monuments and chapels ; and beneath the
choir, and extending its whole length, is a crypt. Among the
many eminent bishops of the see may be mentioned Walter de
Merton, the founder of the college known by his name at Oxford ;
the venerable Fisher, the friend and fellow-sufferer of Sir Thomas
More, beheaded by the brutal despot Henry VIII. ; and the
literary trio. Sprat, the poet — Atterbury, the eloquent divine and
delightful correspondent of Pope — Pearce, the critic and commen-
tator.

The fair of Ely, commencing on the 29th of October, used to
exhibit a picturesque kind of memorial of the saint to whom the
day had been originally dedicated, .and from whom the Isle has
derived, in a great measure, its importance ; we refer to the ribbons
of various colour then offered for sale — no ordinary merchandise,
for they had touched the shrine of St. Etheldretia, more popularly
known as St. Audrey, and were thence called St. Audrey's ribbons.
But this, like so many of our other interesting customs, has shared
the fate of the views and sentiments that first gave them birth, and
disappeared, ami we nmst now look to the dusty records of our local
antiquaries for any tokens of remembrance of the pious lady to
whom we owe the foundation of the great religious establishment
on the Isle, and therefore remotely of the cathe<iral itself, which

wu connected with it. Tet the hiitory of Eiheldrcda was ou«
calculated to live in the popuUr recollection. She wa* tlie daughter
of Anna, King of E^t Anglia, who gave her the Isle of EI7 at
a part of her dowry on her marriage with 'I'onbert, a noblemu of
the same kingdom. After Tonbert's death she married BfftM,
King of Northumberland ; but from a v<-ry early period all her
affections and desireM seem to have been placed on a monaatic lite—
we are informed she lived with both hunbonds in a state of yirginitT
— and so she finally obtained the unwilling consent of the king lu
her retirement to the cloister, and took the veil at Coldingfaam.
Egfrid, however, who waa pas»ionately attached to her, withdi««
this permission, and brought her home. Determined to fulfil what
she conceived to be her mission, the again left him, secretly, and fled
to the Isle of Ely, where i>he began the erection of the OMNiactary,
assisted by her brother, then King of the East Anglea. EgfHd,
still persevering in his endeavours to compel her to live with him,
was (so the monastic writers tell us) warned to desist, by a miracle.
As he pursued her with a body of kniglils, the rock on which tlM
happened at the time to be standing, accompaiMe<l by her. maidena.
was suddenly surrounded by water. After that P>theldreda waa
allowed to pursue her own way in peace. And then the new
monastery was finished, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and the
foundress appointed its first abbess. Bede has given us a striking
view of her domestic life in this high office. It appears she nerer
wore any linen, but only woollen garments, ate oidy once a day,
except during sickness, or on occasions of g^eat festivals, and never,
except w hen her ill-health rendered indulgence necessary, returned
to bed after matins, which were held in the church at midnight,
but made it her custom to continue there at prayen till daybreak.
The fame of all this sanctity and discipline gained many and dia-
tlnguished converts. Persons of the noblest family, matrons of the
highest rank, we are told, devoted themselves to religion under her
guidance ; even some of royal state joined her, resigning all the
comforts and luxuries to which they had been accustomed, for the
hard fare and severe monotony of a monastic life ; — such were
Etiieldreda's own relatives — Sexburga, her sister. Queen of Kent;
Ermenild, Sexburga's daughter ; and Wurburga, the daughter of
Ermenilda, who succeeded each in turn to the abbacy. Etheldreda
dietl, as she had foretold, of a contagious disorder, and was buried,
as she had directed, in a wooden cottin, in the common cemetery of
the luins. The chief events of her life, as here narrated, and others
to which we have not thougtit it necessary to refer, are shown
in a series of sculptures which decorate some of the pillars in the
cathedral.

In 870 the abbey thus erected was pillaged and destroyed by the
Danes, and all its revenues .seize<l for the use of the crown. But
King Edgar, in 970, regranled the whole to Eihelwold, Bishop of
Winchester, who rebuilt the monastery, and placed a number of
monks in it. It was no doubt after this complete restoration that
the bishop invited Ethelred, brother of the reigning monarch,
Edward the Martyr, to visit Ely, who came with his mother and
some of the nobility, and went in solemn procession to the shrine of
St. Etiieldreda ; where the young prinoe, whose heart seems to
have been filled with veneration for the memory of the virgin-wife,
promised to become her devoted servant. This was the prince for
whom tliat mother, then present, afterwards murdered her cider
born, Edward : Ethelred then ascended the throne, and subsequently
evidenced in various ways that he had not forgotten his visit to
Ely. As to his mother, Elfrida, the annals of Ely tell of another
murder committetl by her, only less atnicious than that whic'r has
made her memory for ever infamous. Desiring to get rid of A''bot
Brithnoth, she is said to have resorted to her usual mode of soiving
such difficulties — a violent death — and which was thus accomplislied.
Her servants having heatetl sharjj-pointed irons in the fire, thmst
them info the abbot's body beneath tl:e arm-pits ; Elfriila con
sidering, probably, tliat with a little management, as to the dUpIay
and care of the corpse, she would thus be able to avoid discovery.
And, if such was her hope, she was gratified ; for the cause of
Brithnoth's death appears to have remained unknown till remorae
for the munler of her son made P^lfrida herself confess this murder
too.

The next event in the history of the monastery is connected with
one of tliose struggles against the Normans, tliat have peculiarly
attracted the popular attention. It was in the Isle of Ely that
Ilereward, " England's darling," as his countrymen afTectionately and
admiringly called him, held out for a con>iderable period against
all the forces of the Conqueror, causing him a great amount of Ices,
anxiety, and undissembled rage and mortification ; and it was in
the famous monastery of the Isle that the patriots appear to have
found at first their warmest religious supporters. And although

«t3.-Athcl3tai>e,Kl7.

i- Bracket, Ely.

601.— Ely Cathedral, North- West.

«».-Shrine of St. EtheUredrj, Kly.

ce*— Alwln Ely,

666— Niche, St
Chapel. Elj

««8.— Early Engl
Capital, Ely,

673. Vesica rUci9,£

662.— Ely Cathedral.

ITI

«M.— He»d of WiynBele, Wteehwtar'

(T».— Fuul, WlBctetMr,

trt«-MNr <W|> km, wi

S.— Plnnacla, BUhop Fox's
Cbontr^, WiacheaUr.

;.— Konnan Capital, Win-
Chester.

JTI.— North- West Tlo»of the Catbcdral at Wlaohestar.

•W^KomM a^UtKOrrf*, \

ClO.-Flnlal, Wincljosler.

eia.— WiQOhett«r.

174

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

there were some recreant few of the monks who, having made a
profession of fasting up to a certain point, were so utterly averse to
going bej'ond it, that when provisions grew scarce, they treache-
rously sliowed the Normans a way into the Isle, and thus caused
Hereward to be al last driven from it ; yet the hi>tory of William's
conduct towards the abbey seems to show that the monks generally
had been actuated by nobler principles, and had really gi\en all
possible aid to the brave Hereward ; on the reduction of the Isle,
the furniture and precious jewels of the monastery were seized, and
its lands were divided among the Norman chieftains. The firmness
of a Norman ecclesiastic alone prevented the ruin that thus seemed
to threaten the establishment. Theodwin, having been named
abbot by William, refused to enter upon the duties of his abbacy till
all the property of the monastery had been restored to it; and so the
restoration was made.

A pleasant evidence of the amiable character of the monks of
Ely is furnished by an incident that is supposed to have occurred
during the time that Theod win's friend, Godfrey, held the office of
Procurator, there having been a temporary vacancy of the abbacy
after Theodwin's death. The story also gives a curious illustration
of the uses to which our kings were sometimes accustomed to turn
the religious establishments of England. Certain knights and
gentlemen, who are understood to have belonged for the most part
to the best families of the country, and who were oificers in tiie
king's army, were sent down by the king to be quartered for a
time in the monastery, until he could better provide for them, or
until he needed their services. The monks received them well,
admitted them to dine with themselves in the common hall or
refectory, and at last grew so much attached to them, that when
they were called away to go into Normandy, to repress the insurrec-
tion of Robert, the king's son, the monks conducted them a portion
of the way with solemn procession and singing, and only parted with
them at Hadenham, after mutual expressions of deep regret and
respect. We need only add to the foregoing historical notices, that
Ely was raised into a bishopric by the King Henry I., in 1107,
who thus expected to decrease the political importance of the Isle,
by dividing the ecclesiastical lands and authority ; and that after the
dissolution of monasteries, Henry VIII. raised the church to the
rank of a cathedral — dedicated to the Undivided Trinity.

A glance at our engraving (Fig. 661) will show that this building
is at once noble and remarkable. The elegant lantern-like character
of the towers in particular arrests our attention, and we are further
surprised to find that the shorter of the two occupies the position
generally assigned to the main tower, namely, the centre of the
structure, whilst the larger forms a portion of the western front.
The interior of the octagon tower presents a no less interesting
peculiarity of rich architectural effect. In looking at the date of
the different parts of the cathedral, we are naturally curious to
know first if there be any remains of Etheldreda's work, and we are
answered in the affirmative, and referred to the various antique
specimens of masonry now enclosed within, or forming parts of the
walls of the neighbouring prebendal houses. Of the cathedral
itself, the oldest portion is the transept, which appears to be of the
style prevalent in the early part of the twelfth century, and was
therefore, in all likelihood, built when the erection of the bishopric
gave a new dignity to the church, and demanded, as may have been
thought, a more magnificent structure. The transept, therefore, is
Norman, with circular arches and heavy pillars ; and the nave,
which was erected in the same century, does not materially differ
from it. Between 1174 and 1189, however, the great western
tower was erected by Bishop Rydel, and afforded a noble example
of the mighty architectural changes which a single century had
brought forth ; elegance and beauty were fast growing upon the
solid foundation that had been laid for them. Before the close of
the same century the Galilee Chapel was built. The presbytery,
now used as the choir, was the work of half a century later, when
pointed architecture had attained a state of essential perfection : if
we contrast the choir of Ely with the choirs of other cathedrals
more distinguished for their exquisite architecture, we find that it
is mere elaborateness of decoration that makes the difference. And
it is no slight merit in the builders of our cathedrals that they
knew how to go on elaborating without losing in the process all tlie
more valuable qualities of their productions : it is something to be
able to say, after looking at the exquisite purity of the choir of
Ely, that the octagon tower is the most beautiful part of the whole
building, simply because it is the latest.

The height of this tower is one hundred and seventy feet. The
dimensions of the other parts of the cathedral are, the west tower
two hundred and seventy feet, transept one hundred and ninety
feet, entire length five hundred and thirty-five feet. The jnonu-

ments present some superb specimens of sculpture— such are the
tombs of Bishops Alcott and West, — and some memorials of still
higher interest than art can give, though not altogether disconnected
witli art ; we allude more particularly to the tomb of Tiptoft, the
ill-fated Earl of Worcester, the patron of Caxton, and a man of such
universal accomplishments that, when he was executed at Tower
Hill, 1470, it was said, " The axe then did at one blow cut off
more learning than was left in the heads of all the survivine;
nobility."

According to certain authorities, more amusing than trustworthy,
there was reigning over Britain in the second century, and some
twelve and a lialf centuries after Brute, the descendant of the far-
famed jEneas of Troy, ruled in the island, one Lucius, who became
a convert to Christianity, and erected a church at Winchester,
on the site previously occupied by the chief Pagan tenij)le of the
country. Whether tlie story be true or false, it gives us a striking
idea of the antiquity of the cathedral, whose origin is thus carried
back to the period where fact and fable mingle inextricably to
gether. Tlie first record of a strictly historical nature, respecting
Winchester, seems to be in connection with the seventh century,
when the Saxon kings and people of Wessex generally relinquished
idolatry ; Kinegils, a descendant of that very Cerdic who is said
to have destroyed Lucius's structure, setting the example in 635,
and began the erection of a new cathedral, of great size and
magnificeiice, which was completed by his successor Kenewalch.
The first bishop was St. Birinus, who had been sent over to Eng-
land by Pope Ilonorius, and to whom the merit of Kinegils' con-
version is attributed.

In this brief statement we may perceive ground to satisfy us that
Winchester must have been a place of no ordinary importance,
and the direct history of the city tells us that backwards from the
reign of Richard the First, through English, Norman, Saxon, and
it is supposed even British times, AVinchester was really the capital
of the island. Of its origin, it were almost idle to speak. "It
may possibly have existed," says a writer in the ' Penny Magazine,'
" as a village in the woods for a thousand years before the Christian
era." The Danes, who, as we have seen, figure so conspicuously
and so destructively in the annals of a great proportion of the
oldest churches and monasteries of the country, reduced the build-
ing once more to a ruin, in 871, to be re-edified, as is supposed, by
him whose very name became more terrible to the Danes than
their own had been to the afflicted people of England — Alfred.
But the earliest portions of the present pile are those which were
erected towards the close of tiie tenth century, by Bishop Ethel wold,
who finding the cathedral greatly dilapidated, rebuilt it from the
foundation. Some of the most substantial walls and pillars of the
existing pile are the presumed remains of St. Ethelwold's labours.
With the following century came the Conquest, and a Norman
ecclesiastic, Walkelyn, to rule' over the see, and introduce his own
country's superior knowledge of, and taste for, architecture. His
advent was delayed, however, in an unexpected and extraordinary
manner. When the Conqueror died, there was but one Saxon
bishop to be found in broad England — Wulstan, bishop of Win-
chester; a man whose only learning was the best of all learning,
that which taught him to live a life of spotless purity, humility, and
unremitting usefulness. He was required to resign his episcopal
staff, by a synod, sitting at Westminster Abbey, on the ground
that he was ignorant of the French language. Wulstan rose, on
the demand being made, grasped his crozier firmly in his hand,
and thus spoke : " I am aware, my Lord Archbishop, that I am
neither worthy of this dignity, nor equal to its duties ; this I
knew when the clergy elected, when the prelates compelled, when
ray master called me to fill it. By the authority of the Holy See
he laid this burden upon me, and with this staff he commanded me
to receive the rank of a bishop. You now demand of me the pas-
toral staff, which you did not present, and the office which you did
not bestow. Aware of my insufficiency, and obedient to this
holy synod, I now resign them ; not, however, to you, but to him
by whose authority I received them." Advancing tiien to the
tomb of Edward the Confessor, he thus apostropiiised the deceased
sovereign : " Master, thou knowest how reluctantly I assumed thi»
charge at thy instigation. It was thy command that, more than
the wish of the people, the voice of the prelates, and thb desire of
the nobles, compelled me. Now we have a new king, a new
primate, and new enactments. Thee they accuse of error, in
having so commanded, and me of presumption, because I obeyed.
Formerly, indeed, thou mightest err, because thou wert mortal;
but now thou art with God, and canst err no longer. Not to them,
therefore who recall what they did not give and who may deceive

C'UAP. II. J

OLD ENGLAND.

175

ttiid be (leceivfd, but to thee who gave tliem, utid art now raLst-d
above all error, I rtsigii my «laft', and Nurreiider my flock." And
»o saying, he laid the crozier upon the tomb, and took hb place
among the inonks, as one of their own rank. But lo, a miracle I
or what was alleged to be one — the staff became so firmly embediled
in the stoue, that it could nut be removed ; an evident token that
it was the pleasure of Heaven, that Wulslan should not be deprived
of his bishopric : the synod left hnn therefore in its possession in
peace. At his death, VValkelyn, a Noniian, was appointe<l by
the king, and it was in his case, as in many others, of prelates
ippointud by the Conqueror, if they could not satisfy the people of
their right, they certainly did convince them of their fitness.
Walkelyn built the present tower, part of the present nave and
transepts, and altogether made the cathedral so essentially a new
work, tliat it was re-dedicated by him to the Apostles Peter and
Paul and tlie Saint Swithin. Succeeding prelates continued to add
and to decorate till Wykeham came, and crowned the whole with the
magnificent west front, truly his front, as the statue in the pediment
seems fittitigly to assert, for he was the architect, as well as in a
general sense the builder. The character of this distinguished
man illustrates so strongly what we conceive must have been the
character, in a lesser degree, of many of the prelates to whom we
owe our cathedrals, that we should have been glad to have dwelt
on it, did our space permit, at more length. As it is, we can only
observe, by way of showing the marvellous versatility, as well as
.ofty excellence in particular pursuits, which men in those early
ages often exhibited, unconscious of the practical refutation they
were giving to the absurd " philosophy " of later ones, that William
of Wykeham, as a man of the world, raised himself, by address and
ability, from a very humble position in life, that left him dependent
on strangers for his education, to a position which gave him an
opportunity of commanding the most lofty ; that William of Wyke-
ham, OS a priest, was so distinguished in his holy calling, that he was
raised by successive steps from the mere clerk to the all-potential
bishop ; that William of Wykeham, as a statesman, after a similar
series of ascending stages, became Lord High Chancellor, and that,
too, at a time, the latter part of the reign of Edward the Third
and the reign of llichard the Second, when the national affairs
were in the most perturbed state ; that William of Wykeham, a
wholesale restorer and reformer of existing religious founda-
tions, was scarcely less famous as an establisher of new ones in
honour, and for the promotion of learning — witness to the last
feature those two noble colleges of Winchester and Oxford that
were founded by him ; that, lastly, William of AVykeham, as an
artist, was without rival in his own time, and hardly surpassed
in any other. To the man who began his career in this department of
Ins multifarious history, as a clerk of the works to tlie king, we
owe not merely the grand western front of Winchester Cathedral,
but such works as England's one palace, among the several so called,
Windsor, which assumed, under Wykeham, for the first time, the
extent and general arrangement that still prevail through the
castle.

Since the bishopric of this noble specimen of all-sided humanity,
to borrow Goethe's characteristic mode of expression, the chief
builder at Winchester has been Bishop Fox, whose statue, under
a canopy, terminates in his improvements on the east. But the good
work has been continued with admirable spirit and taste in our own
days. Not less than forty thousand pounds have been recently
expended in restoration, and, what in one instance was still more
needed, alteration ; we allude to the beautiful choir-screen, that now
stands where stood Inigo Jones's elegant, but ridiculously inhar-
monious, piece of composite handiwork.

Figures of arithmetic sometimes describe better than figures
of speech, and we are not sure but that will be the case, as respects
the general external aspect of AV'inchester Cathedral. Whilst the
entire length of the structure reaches to f. .e hundred and forty-five
feet, the main tower rises only to the heig.it of one hundred and
thirty-eight feet : the outspread but stunted expression of the pile
may therefore be seen at once. The tower, indeetl, rises but twenty-
six feet above the roof; the explanation, therefore, io evident — the
work remains unfinished. Apart from the west front, however,
Winchester is, in many respects, a truly magnificent structure.
The view that opens upon the spectator, as he enters by the western
uoor, is one of almost unequalled splendour ; -he looks through, one
continuous vista of pillars, arches, and roo(, extending to the eastern
extremity, where the eyt- finally rests upon the superb eastern
window, tliat casts its " dim religious light " into the choir. The
pillars and arolies of the nave are among the most interesting
parts of the cathedral : within the clustered cok-mns, that give so
light an aspect to those enormous masses of masi. jry, are iiidden

the very Saxon pilkn of Etiielwold'* structure ; within thoM
|)ointed arches above them, yet rrntaiu Ethelwold't aemiciiculv
ones; the okilful architect having tbiu ad«pt«d both pilUn and
arches to the style required, rather than pull them down uiin«e«a>
sarily. The cathedral is rich in mouumeot* : William Uufu* IIm
here, in the choir, in a tomb of plain grey ttone. In »\% mortuary
chests, carved in wood, painted and gilt, are buried the reiuaiua of
Saxon Kings, KinegiU probably among them, and of other dia*
tinguished persons, transferred by liishop Fox from the deencd
Collins in which they had been buried. But in an artiatiod mimi
the monumental glory of the cathedral coniii>ts in the chantries
or oratories of the Bishops Edyngton, Wykeluim, Btaufort,
Waynflete, and Fox : the last four are among the moat auperb
specimens we posses* of these generally beautiful worki. One of
West's best pictures, the liaising of Lazarus, forms the cathedral
altar-piece.

The magnificence of Cardinal Wolsey has become a byword,
and. as often hap|)ens in such cases, has by that very proof of its
original fitness almost ceased to be of any practical value ; in other
word.-i, the term now rises habitually to the mind whenever the
subject is before it, in place of, rather than as concentrating and
explaining the circumstances and thoughts which originally gave
currency to it. But if any one desires to revive the idea of that
magnificence in all its primitive freshness of meaning, he need only
visit Oxford. Near the southern entrance of the city, with iti
picturesque series of bridges across the Isis, or Thames, he will
find a pile of buildings at first attracting his attention by its general
architectural splendour, then by its extraordinary extent, the plan
including a cathedral, two great quadrangles, and two courts; lastly
by the individual interest attached to almost every separate feature,
and more especially tlie cathedral, the superb west front, the
stately hall, and the entrance tower, in which hangs one of the
most famous of English bells, Great Tom of Oxford. 'Jliat pile of
building forms Christ Church College and Cathedral, the former
being the establishment that WoKsey founded in grateful acknow<
ledgraent of the benefits he had derived from the university, and in
redemption of the promise which h« bad consequently made at an
early period of his prosperity, to bestow some lasting mark of his
esteem upon the place. And splendid as is the edifice, important
as are its uses, the one and the olher represent but imjierfeclly the
gigantic plan of its founder, which was and is an unprecedented
instance of princely beneficence in a country of wealthy men and
prodigal benefa(;tors. The best architects of the age were collected
together to erect the buildings ; and the society for whose accommo-
dation they were to be reared was to consist of one hundred and
sixty persons, chiefly engaged in the study of sciences, divinity,
canon and civil law, arts, physic, and literature. But the sun.shine
of royal favour in which the great Cardinal basked became suddenlv
eclipsed by newer favourites ; he fell even more suddenly anil
signally than he h;id risen. The crowned desjx)t, however, for once
seems to have been moved in a good cause ; and either WoL«ey's
pathetic consignation of his cherished project to the royal care, or
the entreaties of the university, caused him to save Christ Church
and become its patron. Some years later he translate«l the see of
Oseney, formed by himself out of the monastery of that name, to
Oxford, and Christ Church became the cathedral. At the same
time the principal estates were granted to the chapter, on condition
of their maintaining three public professors of Divinity, Hebrew,
and Greek ; one hundred .students in theologfy, arts, and philosophy,
eight chaplains, and a suitable choir. We have thought it neces-
sary to give this short notice of the origin of the junction of the
college with the cathedral, which would otherwise have seemed
unaccountable to those ignorant of their history ; and, tiaving done
that, proceed to notice the structure that more peculiarly belongs to
our present section.

Wolsey founded his college upon a site not only time-honoured,
but made sacred by its early connection with the growth of Chris-
tianity in England, and, to some eyes at least, by one of those pious
legends with which church history is so rife ; it was. on the site
of the moiListcry of St. Frideswida, the church of which yet remained,
that he began to build.

We need hardly speak of the antiquity of Oxford itself, since
there are learned men who talk of literature having flourished there
ever since certain " excellent philosophers with the Trojans coming
out of Greece, under the command of Brute, entered and settled in
Britain." Whatever truth there may be in this, it seems to be
undoubted by any one that it was a place of importance in the
British times. But the first event that may be called historical,
and that had any great influence over its future fortunes, was one

t85.— Plnnacle.Oxfoid.

<««.— Ooibel Shaft, OzroiiL

«n.— Sbiliit «f St. Frideiwida, Oxford.

883.— Cbtist Cbuicb, Oxfoid.

MY,— Poppy- "^end, Oxford.

68fi.— IV>pp; li£ad, Ozfoid.

ess.— Boss, Osloid.

690.— Nonnan Capltal.'.Oxfoid.

176^

M3.— But Bt. Eteaadik

tHj—9arj St. Edmnoils.

r^-J^i,:^Ki^'^

693.— But St. Edmnsdi.— ir4S.

Cfll.— AbboyQateway, Bary St. Edmtuid*.

]o. 23.

tiu.-

I .V :i':ii:u in

Abbey "f B«iT.

MS.— Sucoo Tower. Bnry,

178

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II

of which the Cathedral of Clirist Church is to this day the palpable
embodiment. In 727 Didan, the sub-regulus, or Earl of Oxford,
founded a monastery, then dedicated to the Holy Trinity, and in
which Didan and his wife were interred. Their daughter, Frideswida,
devoted herself to a religious life, and was appointed to the govern-
ment of her parents' foundation ; when an event occurred that
incalculably enhanced the popularity of the monastery, and ended
in her canonization and the rededication of the monastery to her.
Algar, Earl of Leicester, fell in love with her, and allowed liis
passion so far to exceed all the limits that prudence, as well as
religious principle, marked out, as to endeavour to force her, sacred
to tlie service of God as she was by her own choice and the
monastic laws, into a marriage. She then concealed herself in a
wood at Benson, near Oxford ; and tlie Earl, unable to discover her
abode, threatened to fire the city if she was not delivered up to
him. " Such tyranny and presumption," obsej ves Leland, " could
not escape divine vengeance ; he was struck blind ! Hence arose
such a dread to the Kings of Britain, that none of his successors
dared enter Oxford for some time after."

Frideswida died in 740, and was probably buried in a chapel on
the south side of the church, for there stood her shrine, until the
great fire of Oxford in 1002 (that occurred during the simultaneous
massacre of the Danes by Ethelred's order), when it was nearly
destroyed, and for a time neglected. But in 1180 the shrine was
removed to its present situation, in the dormitory, to the north of the
choir ; and the worn steps leading to the little oratory, erected at
the back of the .-^hrine, show how numerous have been the devotees
who have there visited it. In course of time, a new shrine was
desired for so popular a saint, which was accordingly erected in
1289, and which remained until the Reformation, when it is said
to have been destroyed ; but was more probably simply defaced.
And even then the relics of the body of St. Frideswida were pre-
served by some ardent Catholics, and restored subsequently to the
church. In the reign of Queen Mary, the remains of the wife
of Peter Martyr, the Reformer, were taken up from their resting-
place in the Cathedral, and formally condemned to be buried
beneath a dunghill : when Elizabeth came to the throne, they were
restored with all marked honours; and to prevent any further dis-
turbance in case of a restoration of the older religionists to power,
the very singular step was taken of mixing the mouldering relics
of the wife of the Protestant reformer with those of the
canonized nun and abbess Frideswida. AVhether the mingled
ashes novv lie in the grave of Martyr's wife, or beneath the large
altar tomb tliat is supposed to be St. Fricleswida's, and is called by
her name, is now unknown. In Fig. 682 this monument is shown ;
the one to the extreme right, with three stages of decorated archi-
tectural work, the lowest being of stone, the other two of wood.
Beyond, and next to it, is the very rich monument of Lady
Elizabeth Montacute, with her effigy, in the costume of the day,
the dr^ss enamelled in gold and colours all over. The third and
last monument of the same range is the tomb of Guiraond, the first
prior ; for St. Frideswida's monastery for nuns was subsequently
changed into a house of secular canons, and then again into one for
regular canons of the order of St. Austin ; and thus it remained until
Wolsey obtained an order for its dissolution from the Pope, prior to
the change he meditated.

There is no reason to suppose that any portions of the pile erected
by the parents of Frideswida are preserved in the present Cathe-
dral, At the same time, the architectural character of the oldest
portions of the church— early Norman or Saxon — has induced
some antiquaries to refer its date to the very beginiiin"- of the
eleventh century; but the more received opinion is that which
attributes the erection to the twelfth century. Much, however,
has been added since, as the Chapter House, whicii, with a highly-
<!nriched Norman doorway, exhibits generally a valuable example
r)f the early English style ; the tower of similar architecture (tlie
present spire was added by Wolsey) ; and the cloisters, which are in
the beautiful perpendicular style. Some of the most striking parts
(»f the interior belong to the same period as the cloisters. The roof
of the nave is especially deserving of attention, for its curiously-
beautiful groining, and for the pendants which stud it over. The
size of Christ Church is certainly remarkable, but in the opposite
sense to that in which such words are usually applied to such struc-
tures : it is, indeed, one of the most petite of cathedrals. Its entire
length but little exceeds one hundred and fifty feet, and the entire
oreadtli is but fifty-four feet ; the transept measures one hundred and
two feet, from end to end ; the roof is about forty feet high ; the
•steeple, one iiundred and forty-six.

Leland, writing ot Bury St. Edmunds, some three cent

uries ago.

observed with unwonted enthusiasm, " The sun hath not shone or«
a town more delightfully situated ;" and we may also add, that the
sun doth not now shine on a town, in the whole, more worthy of its
natural beauty of position, or of the name which it is said to have
borne in the Roman times — the Villa Faustina, or the "happy town."
This has partly arisen from the circumstance that a great portion of
the place was burnt down in 1806, and has been rebuilt in a handsome
manner ; but still more must be owing to the feelings and taste of
the inhabitants. The river, which, as may be seen in our engrav-
ings (Figs. 691, 692), gives so charming an appearance to Bury St.
Edmunds from whatever direction viewed, is the Larke ; and it
contributes no less to the internal than the external aspect, to the
comfort than the prosperity of the place. Here we see its waters
washing the lower part of the very pretty botanical garden; theie
bearing along the numerous barges laden with coals and other com-
modities which they have received about a mile below the town,
where the Larke ceases to be navigable to larger vessels. The
entrance to that garden is through the " abbey gate," almost the
only relic of a monastery which, in architectural extent and magnifi-
cence, wealth, privileges, and power, surpassed every other in Great
Britain, Glastonbury alone excepted; and the early history of which
almost ranks even with that foundation in interest.

In the ninth century the place belonged to Beodric, and was
hence called his worthe or cortis, that is to say, his villa or mansion,
and was by that nobleman bequeathed to Edmund, the King and
Martyr. How the last-named title was obtained it is our business
here briefly to relate, for in the martyrdom of King Edmund we
look for the origin of umch of the prosperity of Bury, and of the
historical interest which now invests its monastic remains. Min-
gling, as usual, truth and fable, the story runs thus : — Edmund, the
brother and predecessor of the great Alfred, succeeding to the
throne of East Anglia, was crowned at Bury, on the Christmas-
day of 856, being at the time only fifteen years old. In 870 he
was taken prisoner by the Danes, and, as he was a Christian as well
as an enemy, tortured to death. The Danes first scourged him,
then bound him to a tree, and pierced his body all over with
arrows ; lastly they cut off his head, which they threw into a neigh-
bouring wood. On the departure of these terrible visitors, the
subjects of the murdered king sought his remains, that they might
inter them with all the iionour and reverence due alike to lii-i
position and his character. The body was found still attached to
the fatal tree ; this they buried in a wooden chapel at Hagilsdun,
now Hoxne. For a time, all their endeavours to discover the head
were ineflectual ; but when forty days had elapsed, it was found
between tlie fore-paws of a wolf, which, strange to say, yielded it
up quietly, and, stranger still, unmutilated, and then retired into
the forest. No wonder that Lydgate the poet, who was a monk of
Bury, observes, " An uukouth thyng, and strange ageyn nature."
The greatest marvel was yet behind. The head was taken to
Hagilsdun, placed against the body in its natural position, when it
united so closely with the latter, which was not at all decomposed,
that the separation could hardly be traced. The corpse was sub-
sequently removed to Bury, which hence obtained the name of
Bury St. Edmunds. Events of this nature were calculated to call
forth in the highest degree the pious enthusiasm of the people;
and which found, as usual, its development in a magnificent house
for religious men, whose lives should be devoted to the honour of
the king, martyr, and saint, and of the God in whose service he
had so worthily lived and died. Six priests first met, and formed
the nucleus. Benefactors of every class, from the highest to the
lowest, assisted in the good work ; among the earliest of these
may be named King Athelstane, and Edmund, son of Edward the
Elder. But the time was inauspicious in many respects for rapid
or safe progress. The Danes still threatened ; and, on one occasion
(just before Swein destroyed Bury, in the beginning of the eleventh
century), Ailwin, guardian of the body of St. Edmund, conveyed
it to London. In the metropolis a new perplexity arose: the
Bishop of London, having obtained possession of the treasured
remains, by a process that might almost be called a kind of felcny,
refused to give it up when Ailwin was prepared to return ; the
guardian, however, was immovably true to his trust, and so, after
much altercation, it was again safely deposited in Bury. Peace
at last blessed the land, and Ailwin began in earnest the erection
of a place that should be esteemed suitable to the memory of him
whose mausoleum it was in effect to be. In 1020 he ejected all
the secular clergy, and filled their places with Benedictine monks,
obtained their exemption from all episcopal authority, and, these
preliminaries settled, began the erection of a beautiful church of
wood. Two other churches were subsequently raised of the same
material. But in 1065 Abbot Baldwyn laid the founciation of

Chap II.]

OLD ENGLAND.

I7y

^ foiirtli, uf slonu, and on tlic most magnificent scale. It wan
about five imndre<l feet long : tlie transept extended two hundred and
twelve feet ; tlio western front was two liundred and forty feet
brojd ; no less than twelve cliapelri were attached in different
;iurt.< : twelve years were sjicnt in the erection. Of tliis grand
sriicture there rcniaiu but portions of tlie west front: the chief
are, a tower converted into a stable, and tliree arches, forming
originally the entrances into the three aisles of the church, wiiich
tiio utilitarianism of the age has converted, no doubt with con-
sideral)le self-congrntulation at the ingenuity of the idea, ii>to very
snug iind comfortable dwelling-houses. Notwithstanding all that
wo know of the influences that have been in operation during tin-
last three centuries to injure or degrade those noble architectural
niiiMuments of our forefathers, it strikes one every now and then
with a sense of surprise to see iiow extensive these injuries have
been, involving, indeed, in many cases, the almost absolute destruc-
tion of piles that, before such influences began to operate, were in
the most perfect and apparently indestructible state. AVIien Leiand
looked upon Bury in the sixteenth century, and said the sun
had not shone upon a more delightfully situated town, he added
also, nor on " a monastery more illustrious, whether we consider
its wealth, its extent, or its incomparable magnificence. You might
indeed say that the monastery itself is a town ; so many gates
are there, so many towers, and a church than which none ciin be
more magnificent ; and subservient to which are three others, also
splendiiily adorned with admirable workmanship, and standing in one
a:i<l tlie same churchyard." That was but little more than three centu-
ries ago ; yet of all these buildings, which, if even left uncared for to
the uninterrupted processes of natural decay, would have exhibited
as yet but mere superficial injury, what have we now left ? Two
of the three smaller churches, a tower and a few arches of the great
one, a gateway and part of the walls of the monastery, and another
gateway, or tower, which formed the entrance into the churchyard,
opposite the western front of the monastic church : and that is, in
efl'ect, all. It is, indeed, difficult to believe in the truth of Leland's
description, and the description of other writers, who speak in
miimter detail of the four grand gates to the abbey, the lofty em-
battled walls extending so far around, and enclosing, besides the
four churches and the necessary monastic buildings of residence,
a palace and garden for the abbot, chapter-house, infirmaries,
clmrchyard, and several chapels, — till we begin patiently to explore
the traces yet to be found on the spot, and to remember the size
and importance of that community which had here for so many
centuries its abode. The household of St. Edmundsbury included
some eighty monks, sixteen chaplains, and one hundred and eleven
servants. The importance of the monastery is shown in its power
.111(1 privileges. Tlie abbot sat in parliament as a baron of the
realm, and in his chapter-house and hall as something more,
No sovereign, indeed, could be much more absolute. He appointed
the parochial clergy of Bury — all civil and criminal causes
arising within the place were tried within his court — the life and
death of offenders were in his hand. The monastery coined its own
money, and the monarch's into the bargain, when it suited him to
obtain its assistance : Edward I. and Edward II. both had mints
here. It permitted no divided allegiance in the locality, whether
of a spiritual or a temporal nature, and had a very summary mode
of setting at rest any question of the kind that might arise. In the
thirteenth century, some Franciscan friars C{«.me to Bury, and built
a handsome monastery ; but the monks having by that time, we
presutne, settled in their own minds that they did not like friars,
went and pulled down their building, and drove its tenants forth
from the town. Redress appears to have been quite out of the
question. Another evidence of the importance of the monastery
may be drawn from our knowledge of its wealth. At the disso-
lution, the commissioners of the king said they hnd taken from it
in gold and silver five thousand marks, a rich cross with emeralds,
and also divers stones of great value, but still left behind ample
store of plate of silver for the service of the church, abbot, and
convent. As to its revenues, a writer in 1727 said, they would have
been equal at that time to the enormous sum of two hundred thou-
sand pounds yearly.

We have already noticed the remains of the monastic church.
The abbey gate (Fig. G94) was erected ui 1327, and is, therefore,
above five centuries old, yet notwithstanding its age, and the entire
destruction of its roof, remains surprisingly perfect. As a specimen
of Gothic architecture it is at once majestic and superb ; the
height being no less than sixty-two feet, and the fronts, more par-
ticularly that on the western or exterior side, being decorated in
the most gorgeously splendid style. Among the beautiful decora-
tions of the interior of the gateway is much carved-work, including,

in cue part, the arms of the Confetior. But tM tower Iniling
into the churchyard (Fig. 695) i*, eomideriog iu nnotar aotiqnity,
as well aa its extraordinary magnificence, the meet interesting of
all the remaiM of this great religious establishment. It rises to
the height of eighty feet, is simple and masrive in form, but nujet
elul>orately beautiful in decoration — and pure uiuulultetated Sexon.
It is, in a word, one of the finest things of the kind in rrtstenw.
No records carry us back to the date of its erection. The eeulp-
lure upon it is exceedingly curious and valuable as the product of
80 early a time. Near the base on the western side are two bas-
reliefs ; in one of which Adam and Eve, entwined by the serpent,
typify man in hin fallen state ; whilst in the other, the Deity
is seen sitting in triumph in a circle of cherubim, as representative
of man's spiritual restoration. In the interior of the arch ai«
some grotesque figures. The stone of which the edifice is built is
remarkable for the number of small shells it contains. Through
this gateway we pass to the churchyard, where, as we wander
along an aveime of stately and fragrant lime-trees, we oerceive, in
different parts, the two churches of St. James and St. Mary, and
the Shire-hall, erected on the site of the third and destroyed church
of St. Margaret ; various ]>ortions of the abbey ruins ; Clopton's
Hospital, a modern work of beneficence ; and Che mausoleum, once the
chapel of the charnel, where Lydgate is understood to have resided,
and where possibly the greater part of his multifarious writings
were composed. His case furnishes a valuable and instructive
example of one of the uses of our monasteries — that of nurturing
men of learning and literary ability. Lydgate was at once a tra-
veller, a schoolmaster, a philologist, a rhetorician, a geometrician,
an astronomer, a thcologist, a disputant, a poet ; and it is hardly
too much to say, that he was all this chiefly because he was also a
monk. How many such men may not these institutions have
contained, but who did not, like Lydgate, seek for fame beyond the
confines of their own monastery ! Such encouragement as the
Abbot of St. Edmundsbury gave to Lydgate was, in all proba-
bility, the mle rather than the exception, in such establishments
generally. The pride in the reputation thus reflected upon their
house, and the eternal craving for some kind of mental occupation
and excitement, which no discipline could entirely eradicate, must
have made many a superior encourage such studies, even when he
had in himself no particular tendency towards them ; but how
much more when he had !— and the frequency of the qualification
"learning" recorded in accounts of election to monastic govern-
ment shows that tliis must have been a matter of common
occurrence. We need not then be surprised to see Lydgate
allowed to master so many departments of knowledge, or to open a
school in the monastery at Bury for teaching some of them, as he
did, to the sons of the nobility of his day. Another and equally
pleasant instance of the estimation in which he was held is com-
memorated by a most splendidly illuminated MS. now in the
British Museum, forming a life of St. Edmund, and which he pre-
sented to Henry VI. when he visited the monaster)- iti 1440:
a pension of 7/. 13*. 4*/. was the monarch's answering gifk ; a most
princely one, according to the then value of money. Both
the smaller churches that we have mentioned as existing are
strikingly handsome. St. Mary's has three aisles, divided by two
rows of very elegant columns; and the. roof of the middle aisle,
sixty feet high, is beautifidly carved. The roof of the chancel
presents an additional feature, carved gilt work on a blue ground,
supposed to have been brought from Caen in Normandy. In this
church lies Mary Tudor, third daughter of Henry VII., and wife,
first, of Louis XII. of France, and afterwards of the Duke of
Sufl'olk : there also, in the middle of the chancel, rests th.; last
Abbot of Bury, John Reeves.

Many events of historical importance are recorded in connection
with the monastery. During the wars between Henry II. and his
son, the forces of the fonner marched out of Bury with the sacreti
standard of St. £>lmund, to a spot in the neighbourhoo<i where the
enemy was met with, and a battle fought, which ended in favour of
the king : to the standard, of course, was attributed the honour of
the victory. This incident probably suggested to Richard I the
idea of bringing to Bury the rich stan.^ard of Isaac, King of
Cyprus, which he had taken whilst on his way to Acre and the
Holy Land. But tlic most important of all such events were
those connected with the baronial struggle fo» *he great Charter.
John arrived from France iu October, 1214, wU of rage and
mortification at the defeat his forces had recently experienced at a
place between Lisle and Tournay, and determined to re|>ay himself
for his sufferings and losses at the hands of the enemy by increased
exactions from his own subjects. FitiPeter, the Justiciary, a man
whom John feared, had dii^ during his absence. He laughed

2 A 2

too.— Byland Abb«y, Yorkshire.

701.— BylaiiJ Abbey.

T02.— Fountains Abtwy.

6(7.— Benuondtiey.— Bemains of the Eastern Gate-uonse of thff Abbey

703.— 'Walsingbam Abbey.

698.-renaocd35y._E!a8t;ng Remains of the Conventual BJUings.

180

699.— Bennondsoy.— Remains of the Abbey .- from a drawing made immediately before tUeir Demoliti^^

707.— Perjhoro.

IM— OroMaMr Fmbon.

•*,-

701— TewkMbory. i

181

182

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book IL

as the news was imparted to him : " It is well," said he ; " in
hell he may again shake hands with Hubert our late primate, for
surely he will find him there. By God's teeth, now, for the first time,
I am King and Lord of England." But the barons were prepared.
A league had been already formed with Langtbn, the Cardinal, and
they now agreed to meet : " The time is favourable," they said :
" the feast of St. Edmund approaches ; amidst the multitudes that
resort to his shrine we may assemble without suspicion." On the
day in question, the 20th of November, they met, and resolved to
demand their rights from the king, in his very court, on the coming
Cliristmas-day. It was a hazardous undertaking, and one from
which weak minds might easily be induced to draw back, to which
faithless hearts might be as readily instigated to turn traitors ; so the
solemn sanction of the ciiurch was as it were invoked to deter both
the one class and the other, if any such there were. The barons
advancing in the order of their seniority, one by one, laid their
hands on the high altar, and swore that if the king refused the rights
they demanded, they would withdraw their fealty, and make war
upon him, until he should yield. "VVe need not follow their pro-
ceedings further, they are too well known ; but the virtual con-
clusion of the memorable meeting at Bury was the still more
memorable one on the plains of Eunnymede. Several parliaments
have been held in the monastery ; the most noticeable is the one
that sat in 1447 for the not very estimable or dignified purpose of
promoting the object which Margaret, the queen of Henry VI., and
her favourite Suffolk, had so much at heart, namely, the destruction
of the good Duke Humphrey of Gloucester. Of course that object
was for a time concealed, and Gloucester, in consequence, went
unsuspiciously to his fate. On the 11th of February, or the very
day after the opening of the parliament, he was arrested on a charge
of high treason. In less than three weeks from that time he was found
dead in his bed ; and although no marks of violence were visible when
the body was publicly exhibited to the people of Bury St. Edmunds,
the impression was universal that he had been murdered. The
weak young king, who had consented to all but the last foul pro-
ceeding, "thus" — to use, with mere verbal alteration, the words
Shakspere has put into the mouth of Gloucester, in the Second
Part of Henry VI.—

King Henry threw away his crutch

Before his legs were firm to bear his body :

Thus was the sliepherd beaten from his side.

When wolves were gnarling who should gnaw him first

But for Gloucester's sudden death, we might have known nothing of
the wars of the Roses.

So completely has every important vestige of the once famous
Abbey of Bermondsey (see Fig. 698) been swept away, that one
may pass a hundred times through the streets and lanes that now
cover the site, without even a suspicion that any such establishment
had ever existed there. A few decaying squalid-looking tenements
in the corner of an out-of-the-way court (Fig. 697), a small
portion of a gatehouse, with half the rusty hinge still inserted in
the stone, scattered masses of wall about the present churchyard,
and a few names of streets and squares, as the Long Walk, and
the Grange Walk, are the sole relics of the monastery which in
its days of splendour was esteemed of so much importance, that
great councils of state were frequently held in it. Of the church,
which unquestionably was a large and handsome, probably a very
magnificent structure, there is not even a trace to be found, unless
we may make an exception in favour of a very curious and ancient
salver of silver, now used in St. Mary's Church for the collection
of alms, and which possibly formed a part of' the abbey treasure.
Tlie salver presents a view of the gate of a castle or town, with
two figures, a knight kneeling before a lady, while she places a
helmet on his head. The costume of the knight appears to be of
the date of Edward II. This church of St. Mary, we may observe,
was built on the site of a smaller one, erected by the monks at a
very early period, and, it is supposed, for the use of their tenants
and servants. With so little, then, existing at present to stimulate
our curiosity as to the past, it will be hardly advisable to dwell at
any length upon the subject, though far from an uninteresting one.
The founder of Bermondsey was a citizen of London, Ayhvin
Child, who, in his admiration of the new order of Cluniacs that liad
just been introduced into England, obtained four monks from one of
the foreign monasteries to establish a house of Cluniacs at Ber-
mondsey. The Benedictine rule or discipline was, one would
imagine, strict enough for any body of men, however pious; not so
thought some of the members of the order themselves ; and from

their thoughts and desires gradually arose the order we have
referred to. Bermondsey, like the other houses of Cluniacs in
England, was considered an alien priory, that is to say, was under
subjection to the great Abbey of Cluny in Burgundy, and shared
therefore in the fate that befel all such alien houses in the fourteenth
century — sequestration. But Richard II. not only restored it to
life and activity, but raised it to the rank of an abbey : among his
motives for this gracious and important favour, a present of two
hundred marks, we presume, ought to be enumerated. At the
dissolution Bermondsey was valued at 548L 2s. bid. ; and it
is remarkable enough that King Henry seems to have really
got nothing in this instance by the dissolution ; through his
unusual liberality, the monks were all pensioned off with sums
varying from five pounds six shillings and eightpence to ten
pounds yearly, while the abbot's share must have swept away
nearly all the rest, amounting, as it did, to 336?. 6s. Sd. King
Henry certainly was never more shrewdly managed than by the
last Abbot of Bermondsey.

Among the historical recollections of the abbey may be
mentioned the residence and death in it of Katherine, who had
for her first husband Henry V., and for her second, Owen
Tudor, the founder of the Tudor dynasty. Two days before
her death, her son by the conqueror of Agincourt, Henry VI.,
sent to her, in token of his afl^ectionate remembrance, a tablet
of gold weighing thirteen ounces, and set with sapphires and
pearls. The chief interest, however, that we now feel in the
Abbey of Bermondsey arises from the enforced residence of
Elizabeth Woodville, whose eventful life finds few parallels in
female history. At first the wife of a simple English knight ; then,
after his death in the wars of the Roses, a wretched widow, pleading
at the feet of Edward IV. for the reversal of the attainder that
tlireatened to sweep away the home and estates of herself and
children ; then the queen of that king, and married by him for the
very impolitical reason that he had fallen passionately in love with
her ; then again a widow struggling to keep her royal offspring
from the murderous grasp of their usurping uncle the Duke of
Gloucester, — and who, after their murder in the Tower, became
Richard III. ; then once more lifted into apparent prosperity by
the union of the rival Roses in the persons of her daughter and
Henry VII. ; and then, lastly, a prisoner at Bermondsey during
the very reign of that daughter, and at the instance of that
daughter's husband. And there she died, the queen of one king, the
mother of the wife of another ; and so poor, that in her will, which
is touchingly pathetic, we find her leaving her blessing to her child
as the only thing it was in her power to bequeath to her. "I have
no worldly goods to do the queen's grace, my dearest daughter, a
pleasure with, neither to reward any of my children according to
my heart and mind." Henry's reason for this harshness appears to
have been a belief that she had been instrumental in raising a new
Yorkist insurrection in Ireland in 1486, under the leadership of the
pretended Earl of Warwick, but really Lambert Simnel, the son of
a joiner. He had reason to know she did scheme; for, says Bacon,
" in her withdrawing chamber had the fortunate conspiracy for the
king against King Richard III. been hatched, which the king knew
and remembered perhaps but too well." After the death of his
wife, Henry established a yearly anniversary at Bermondsey, when
prayers were to be offered for his own prosperity, and for his wife's,
his children's, and other relatives' souls ; but not a word as to the
soul of his wife's mother, the beautiful, intriguing, possibly unprin-
cipled, but certainly most unfortunate, Elizabeth Woodville.

Having now noticed in our pages, and at what may be considered
suflncient length, some of the more important of the English monas-
teries, we shall, as a general principle, treat the remainder in
groups ; passing over most of the subjects in each with a brief, or
at least a very partial account, but dwelling, as we may see occasion^
on the others. If many highly-important establishments may be
thus cursorily dismissed, many also will receive a fair share of
attention ; whilst, by not attempting what is impracticable in the
present instance, — to preserve the individual interest of all, we may
hope to convey a more satisfactory impression as to those we select
from the multitude. In our first group vve include Byland and
Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire, Walsingham Priory in Norfolk,
Tewkesbury Abbey in Gloucestershire, and Hexham Priory in
Northumberland. With such subjects it is indeed difficult to
make a choice; but on the whole we may consider Fountains Abbey
as the best fitted for lengthened notice.

Among the monastic remains we have had, or may yet have,
I occasion to notice, there are of course some few that enjoy a marked

UlIAP. II.l

OLD ENGLAND.

pre-eniitience, either fut their history, tho beauty of their archi-
Ifctuiiil relics, or ttie advantages of tlieir local puiiition : tliey are
antiijuities that every oiio feels interested in, that many liave j>crson-
ally seen. Fountains Abbey is of this class. Its very name is sug-
gestive of a world of pleasatit associations, green ruins with many
a legend or story hanging about them, picturesque and attractive
as themselves; quiet woods, and delightfully unquiet waters; nooks
and corners among rocks or by walcr-banks, or beneath great over-
arching trees; a place, in fine, for deep emotion and elevated
thought, — whtre one seems lo stand between tlie Past and the
Future, unaffected by all the disturbing influences of the Present;
and lo look on all things with a sense of newly-aroused powers of
ajjprehen.sion of tho truth or falsehood that is in them, — of newly-
awakenid desiru to draw from these ciiewings of tiie cud of sweet
and bitter fancy the most wholesome imtriment for the evcry-day
business of life, towards which we at last must again, however
reluctantly, address ourselves. It is no wonder that Fountains
Abbey should have obtained so high or extensive a reputation.
All the peculiar advantages above enumerated, as tending to give
sucli relics of "Old England" their fame, are combined in this.
It is situated in a beautiful and romantic valley, through which
runs tlie Skell, and in tiie vicinity of Studley park and pleasure-
grounds, the lust forming one of the horticultural notabilities of
England, a continuous garden of some three hundred acres laid out
in the most charming style. For the beauty of the architecture of
Fountains Abbey we need only refer to the view (Fig. 702),
where the remarkable state of preservation in which the pile
generally exists, as well as some indications of llie elegance of the
prevailing style, will be apparent. On the whole the Abbey ruins
form tlie most perfect specimen that the country possesses of what
may perhaps be called the most perfect architectural time, — the age
of Henry III. and of Westminster Abbey. All the walls of both
church and monastery yet stand, though roofless and with dilapi-
dated windows. The majestic tower, from its unusual position at
the north end of the transept, still rises i:p in serene grandeur.
We may walk through the nave and admire the arch of its once
glorious eastern window ; from thence wander into the " ruined
choir" and listen to hymns of praise, albeit the choristers are of
a tinier race than of yore. The Chapter House yet tells us of the
abbots who sat there in due course of spiritual government, and
some of whose tombs now lie beneath our feet, with half-illegible
inscriptions; we can still perceive, over the Chapter House, where
the library was situated in which the monks read, and the adjoining
scri))toriuni wherein they wrote. It is as long a walk as ever to pace
from end to end of the cloisters, and almost as picturesque, with those
curioits arches overhead formed by the mazy intersections of the
groinings of the roof; the kitchen is ready at any moment to glow
with "unwonted fires," and renew those old hospitalilies of which
its two immense fireplaces give one such an expansive idea; the
very garden of the monastery still smells sweet and looks fair with
quivering leaves and " flowres fresh of hue."

AVhilst such the position and such the remains of Fountains
Abbey, both at the same time borrow from their past history
higher and deeper interest than the picturesque hands of nature or
of time could bestow. The monastic orders generally, perhaps
universally, had their origin in the <lesire of some one man, or
some few men, to clieck prevailing evils in the lives or views of the
people, or of their spiritual teachers, or to carry on still further
reformations or improvements already begun. It is easy to imagine
that mucii hearl-bnrning and strife must have frequently resulted
from such endeavours ; which set brother against brother, divided
the once peaceful monastery against itself, which amioycd ihe idle,
or supine, or the licentious, by placing monitors eternally at their
elbow. In connection with the records of Fountains Abbey we
find a c;irious and ample account of the growth of such a division :
" The fame of the sanctity of the Cistercian monks at Rieval
[Rievaulx], the first of that order of Yorkshire, having extended to
the Benedictine monastery of St. Mary at York, several of the
monks there, finding too great a relaxation in the observance of the
rules, were desirous of withdrawing themselves to follow the stricter
rules observed by the monks of Kieval. But Galfrid, their abbot,
opposed tlieir removal, as being a rtfitclion on his government of
the abbey ; wliereupon, in a.d. 1 132, the 33rd of Henry I., Richard,
the Prior, went to Tliurstan, Archbishop of York, to desire that
he would visit the abbey and regulate what w;is amiss therein, and
assist tlieni in their design of withdrawing themselves. The day of
visitation being come, the archbishop, attendeil by many grave
and discreet clergy, canons, and other religious men, went to St.
Marys Abbey, wliither the abbot had convoked several learned
men, and a multitude of monks from different parts of England,

that by their aid be might oppoM Ihe arcbbisbop, if rcquUUi, aod
correct tlie insolence uf tlione brethren that wanted lo 1mv« the
abbey. Ou the Cth of October, a.u. 1 132, the aicbbUbop arrived
at the monastery, when the abbot, with a uultiiude of mooke,
opposed his entrance into the chapter with such a number of per-
sons as attended him ; whereiipon an uproar ensued : and lb« aicb*
bi.-<hop, af^cr interdicting the church and monks, returned (
and the prior, sub-|)rior, and eleven monks withdrew tbem^
selves, and were joined by Bobert, a monk of Whitby, who vent
along with tlieni, and were maintained at the archbishop's expenee,
in his own house, for eleven weelu and five day*. . . . The abbot
did not cease by messages to persuade the withdrawn nioalu
to return to their monastery, while they at the bUhop's hooee
s|)ent most of their time in fasting and prayer. However, two ot
them were prevailed on to quit the rest, and go bade ; and yet one
of the two repenting, soon returned to those who were for a more
strict way of life." It is to these monks of St. Mary's that Foun-
tains Abbey owes its origin ; they were its founders, and very
interesting were the circumstances of the foundation, a* related by
tlie same writer. Burton [' Monast. Eboracen.'J. " At Christmas,
the archbisliop, being at Ripon, assigned to the monlu some land
in the patrimony of St. Peter, about three miles west of that place,
for the erecting of a monastery. The spot of ground iiad never
been inhabited, unless by wild beasts, being overgrown with wood
and brambles, lying between two steep hills and rocks, covered
with wood on all sides, more proper for a retreat of wild beast*
than the human species. . . . Richard, the Prior of St. Mary's at
York, was chosen abbot by the monks, being the first of this
monastery of Fountains, with whom they withdrew into this
uncouth desert, without any house to shelter them in that winter
season, or provisions to subsist on ; but entirely depending on
Divine Providence. There stood a large elm in the midst of the
vale, on which they put some thatch or straw, and under that they
lay, eat, and prayed, the bishop for a time supplying them with
bread, and the rivulet (the Skell) with drink. Part of the ilay
some spent in making wattles to erect a little oratory, whilst others
cleared some ground to make a little garden." A clump of yew-
trees, it appears, however, offered a better shelter, and to these
they removed, and there remained during the erection of the
monastery. Some of these trees, we believe, still remain, and are
of such extraordinary size and so close together, as to corroborate
the statement of the uses to which they were put above seven centu-
ries ago. The monks adopted the Cistercian rule, and placed them-
selves in direct communication with the famous founder of it, St.
Bernard, who sent them a monk from his own monaster}' of Chiir-
vaux, to instruct them alike in spiritual and temporal affairs.
Some cottages were now built, and ten other persons joined them.
Terrible, and all but intolerable, as were the difficulties these men
enduretl, their enthusiasm seems to have never slackened for a
moment ; they were even liberal in their severest destitution. At a
time when they were obliged to feed on the leaves of trees, and herbs
boiled with a little salt, a stranger came and begged for a moisel
of bread ; two loaves and a lialf were all that the community pos-
sessed ; and one was given to the applicant, the abbot saying,
" God would provide for them." Almost immediately after, two
men came from the neighbouring castle of Ivnaresborough with
a present of a cartload of fine bread from Eustace Fitz-Jobn, ita
lord. Left, however, entirely to the assistance of the Archbishop
of York, they were, at tho end of two years, about to retire to the
Continent, on the invitation of St. Bernard, when prosperity at last
dawned uiwn them ; Hugh, Dean of York, falling sick, caused
liimself to be taken to Fountains, and settled all his immense
wealth upon the community. From that time the monks steadily
progressed until their establishment became one of the most dis-
tinguished in the kingdom. Its territorial wealth seems almost
incredible. From the foot of Pinnigant to the boundaries of St.
Wilfred, a distance exceeding thirty miles, extended without
interruption its broad lands. There is a circumstance in the ktter
history of the abbey, which, taken in connection with thoae already
narrated as to its earlier, forms a striking commentary on the cauaes
of the rise and fall of all such institutions. William Thirske, the
last but one of all the long line of abbots, was exix;llcd for stalling
from his own abbey, and afterwanis hanged at Tyburn !

Byland Abbey (Fig. 701) needs but few words. It was founded
in 1177 by Roger de Jlowbray, the nobleman whose estates were
sequestratdl by Henry I. for disloyalty, and then given to another
nobleman, also of Norman extraction, who took the Mowbray name,
and founded the great family of the Mowbrays, Dukes of Norfolk
and Earls of Nottingham. The exquisite form of the lancet win-
dows yet remaining in a part of the ruins, shows that Byland Ins

184

7K.— Devil's Bridge.Soutli Wales. Built 1187.

tM.— Wen of rit Keyne. Uoi

No. 24.

iw. — \\ iUii\*Lrruj ilcrmiui*'e

185

180

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book 1L

been a beautiful and stately pile. The memory of our " Lady
of Walsingiiam " demands longer pause before tlie beautiful ruins
of the priory at that place. It is difficult to account for the repu-
tation obtained by this monastery. In 1061, a lady, the widow
of Eicholdis de Favarches, erected a small chapel in honour of
the Virgin Mary, in imitation of the Sancta Casa at Nazareth ; and
to this chapel, the lady's son added a Priory for Augustine canons,
and built a church. In these facts there does not appear to be
anything at all unusual or remarkable; not tlie less, however,
did the shrine of our Lady, erected in tlie chapel, become the most
popular place of resort, without exception, that Old England
contained. Even Thomas a Becket's shrine at Canterbury seems
to have been Iiardly so much visited. Foreigners came hither
from all parts of the world, guided, as they fancied, by tlie light of
the milky way, which the monks of Walsingham persuaded the
people — so Erasmus says — was a miraculous indication of the
way to their monastery. Many kings and queens were among
the pilgrims: above all, let us not forget to mention, for the
sake of the strange contrast the incident presents to the subsequent
acts of the same man, Henry the Eighth came hither in the secona
year of his reign, and walked barefoot from the village of Basham.
Not many years after, the image of our Lady was burnt at Chelsea,
to the horror of the Roman Catholic world; and who should direct
the act, but that same quondam worshipper and royal pilgrim to
Walsingham, King Henry. Prior to the dissolution of the monas-
tery, Erasmus visited it. The chapel, he says, then rebuilding,
was distinct from the churcli, and contained a smaller chapel of
wood, with a little narrow door on each side, where strangers were
admitted to perform their devotions, and deposit their offerings ;
that it was lighted up with wax torches, and that the glitter of
gold, silver, and jewels would lead you to suppose it to bo the seat
of the gods. A Saxon arch, forming part of the original chapel, still
exists ; and there also remain extensive portions of the church and
monastery, among which may be especially mentioned, on account
of its exceeding beauty, the lofty arch, sixty feet high, which formed
the east end of the church, and two wells called the Wishing
wells, from which whoever drank of the waters obtained, under
certain restrictions, whatever they might wish for : at least so many
a devotee was told and believed. Most of the convent ruins are now
included in the beautiful pleasure grounds of a modern residence
known as Walsingham Abbey. (Fig. 703.)

Tewkesbury Church, as it is called, but which for size,
plan, and magnificence may rank among our cathedrals, was,
before the dissolution of monasteries, the church of the Abbey
of Tewkesbury, originally founded in the Saxon times by two
brothers. Dodo and Odo, who both died in 725. During the
reign of the Confessor, an incident occurred which led to the
temporary ruin of the foundation, and which is too remarkable to
be passed without notice. Bithric, Earl of Gloucester, was sent
into Normandy, on an embassy, and whilst there, Matilda, daughter
of Baldwin, Earl of Flanders, fell so passionately in love with him,
as to forget the delicacy of her sex and make her feelings known
to him wlio had called them forth. Whether the earl disliked the
Norman lady, or was already in love with an English one, we know
not, but he at all events so discouraged the advances made that the
love, as is not unfrequent in such cases, changed to hate, and left
but one desire in Matilda's heart, that of vengeance. The earl no
iloubt laughed at threats from such a quarter, and returned to
England, where most probably the circumstance was altogether
forgotten. But by-and-by, news came that Matilda had married
Duke William of Normandy. Time passed again, and rumours of
invasion at the hands of this Duke William filled all England;
and truly the duke came at last, and England was conquered.
Then too came tlie time that Matilda had never," it seems, ceased to
look forward to. She personally solicited the conqueror to place
Bithric at her disposal, and iiaving obtained possession of his person,
threw him into prison at Winchester, and there he died. Many
of his estates were at the same time seized by Matilda, among them
the town and abbey of Tewkesbury. By William llufus, however,
the church and monastery were re-granted to Robert Fitz Hamon,
who rebuilt tlie whole about 1 102. " It cannot be easily reported,"
says William of Malmesbury, " how highly he exalted this monas-
tery, wherein the beauty of the buildings ravished the eyes, and
the charity of the monks allured the hearts of such folk as used to
come tliither." Among the interesting features of the interior of this
Church may be particularized the monuments of the nobles and
others slain in the fatal battle of Tewkesbury. (Figs. 705, 706.)

Hexham Church (Fig. 704) was also the church of a
famous monastery, and, like Tewkesbury, owes its preservation,
ill much of its ancient magnificence, to the fact of its being used

after the Reformation, as a place of worship for the town and
parish. The plan is cathedral-like, including nave, choir, and
transepts, though the nave, having been burnt by the Scots in the
time of Edward the First, has never been rebuilt. The architec-
ture generally is of the twelfth century, but there are botli later
and earlier portions ; some of the last indeed being supposed to be
remains of a structure that formed one of the marvels of Saxon
England, the church erected by Wilfrid, Archbishop of York, in
the latter part of the seventh century. It has been thus glowingly
described by one who assisted to restore it from the ruin into which
it had fallen. Wilfred " began the edifice by making crypts, and
subterraneous oratories, and winding passages through all parts of
its foundations. The pillars that supported the flails were finely
polished, square, and of various other shapes, and the three galleries
were of immense height and length. "These, and the capitals of
their columns, and the bow of the sanctuary, he decorated with
histories and images, carved in relief on the stone, and with pictures
coloured witli great taste. The body of the church was surrounded
with wings and porticos, to which winding staircases were contrived
with the most astonishing art. These staircases also led to long
walking galleries, and various winding passages so contrived, that
a very great multitude of people might be within them, unperceived
by any person on the ground-floor of the church. Oratories, too,
as sacred as they were beautiful, were made in all parts of it, and
in which were altars of the Virgin, of St. Michael, St. John the
Baptist, and all the Apostles, Confessors, and Virgins. Certain
towers and blockhouses remain unto this day specimens of the
inimitable excellence of the architecture of this structure. The
relics, the religious persons, the ministers, the great library, the
vestments, and utensils of the church, were too numerous and mag-
nificent for the poverty of our language to describe. The atrium
of the cathedral was girt with a stone wall of great thickness and
strength, and a stone aqueduct conveyed a stream of water through
the town to all the offices. The magnitude of this place is apparent
from the extent of its ruins. It excelled, in the excellence of its
architecture, all the buildings in England ; and, in truth, there was
nothing like it, at that time, to be found on this side the Alps."
[Richard, Prior of Hexham.] It can hardly be supposed there
were English architects to design, or English workmen to execute
such a building, in tlie seventh century : both classes were brouglit
from Rome.

In deahng with a second group, we may commence with the
venerable and picturesque ruins of the monastery of Easby,
which are near the village of that name, about a mile and a half
from Richmond, and on the rocky and well-wooded banks of the
Swale. Eould, Constable of Richmond Casi;le, was the founder,
about the year 1152. Its inhabitants were members of the then
recently introduced order of Premonstratensian Canons, who lived
according to the rule of St. Austin. Their dress was entirely
white — a white cassock, with a white rochet over it, a long white
cloak, and a white cap ; and a picturesque addition to one of tlie
most picturesque of houses and scenes, these white canons must
have formed. Our cut (Fig. 711) shows the more important of
the existing remains, which are well described in Dr. Whitaker's
' Yorkshire :' —

" By the landscape painter and the man of taste the ruins of this
house, combined with the scene around them, have never been con-
templated without delight. But admiration and rapture are very
unobserving qualities ; and it has never hitherto been attended to,
that this house, though its several parts are elaborate and ornamen-
tal, has been planned with a neglect of symmetry and proportion
which might have become an architect of Laputa. Of the refectory,
a noble room nearly one hundred feet long, with a groined apart-
ment below, every angle is either greater or less than a right angle.
Of the cloister-court, contrary to every other example, there have
been only two entire sides, each of which has an obtuse angle.
From these again the entire outline of the church reels to the west,
and though the chapter-house is a rectangle, the vestry is a tra-
pezium.* Once more : of the terminations of the north and soutii
aisles eastward, one has extended several yards beyond the other ;
tlie choir also is elongated, out of all proportion. The abbot's
lodgings, instead of occupying their usual situation, to the south-
east of the choir, and of being connected with the east end of the
cloister-court, are here most injudiciously placed to the north of
the church, and therefore deprived, by the great elevation of the
latter, of warmth and sunshine. The abbot's private entrance into
the church was by a doorway, yet remaining, into the north aisle of
the nave. To compensate, however, for the darkness of his lodg-
* Trapezium, a figure where the four side? arc neither equal nor parall»l

CifAr. ir.]

OLD ENGLAND.

187

iiigs, he Iiatl a pleasant garden, open to tlie morning sun, with a
beautiful solarium,* iiighly adorned with 'Gothic grolnings at the
nortli-east angle.

" But to atone for all those deformities in areliitccture, many of
the decorations of this house are extremely elegant. Among these
the first place is duo to the great window of the refectory, of which
the beauties are better described by tiio pencil Uian the pen. This,
with the groined vault beneath, ni)i)ears to be of tiio reign of Henry
III. North-west from this are several fine apartments, contempo-
rary, as appears, with tlie foueidation ; but the whole line of wall,
liaving been placed on the shelving bank of the Swale, has long
l)een gradually detaching it.self from the adjoining parts, and
threatens in no long periwl to destroy one of the best features of
the place. On the best side of the imperfect cloister-court is a
circular doorway, wliicii displays the fantastic taste of Norman
enrichments in perfection. A cluster of round columns, with
variously adorned capitals, is surmounted by a double moulded
arch, embossed with cats' heads hanging out their tongues, which
are curled at tlie extremities. Above all is an elegant moulding of
foliage. Not far beneath is a large picturesque tree (perhaps truly)
distinguished by the name of the Abbot's elm. The abbey gateway,
still in perfect repair, is tiic latest part of the whole fabric, and
probably about the era of Edward IIL"

On a bold bluff rock, looking out upon the German Ocean, stand
the ruins of the Prioky of Tynemoutu, We pass into the con-
secrated ground, which is still used as a burial-place, through a
barrack, the buildings of which have been partly erected out of tlie
materials of the Priory. When we are within the Priory inclo-
sure we see artillery pointing seawanl and landward, — sentinels
pacing their constant walk, and in tlie midst the old grey ruin,
looking almost reproachfully upon these odd associations. There is
one living within constant view of this ruin — a writer who has won
an enduring reputation — to whom the solitude of a sick-room has
biougiit as many soothing and holy aspirations as to tiie most
pure and spiritual of the recluses, who, century after century,
looked out from this rock upon a raging sea, and thought of a
world where all was peace. The scene which is now presented by
the view from Tynemouth is thus described by tlie writer to whom
we allude, in 'Life in the Sick-room.' What a contrast to the
scene upon which the old monks were wont to look! (Fig. 710.)

" Between my window and the sea is a green down, as green as
any field in Ireland, and on the nearer half of this do*'n hay-
making goes forward in its season. It slopes down to a liollow,
wliere the Prior of old preserved his fish, tliere being sluices
formerly at either end, the one opening upon the river, and
the other upon the little haven below the Priory, whose ruins still
crown the rock. From the Prior's fish-pond, the green down
slopes upwards to a ridge; and on the slope are cows grazing
all summer, and half way into the winter. Over the ridge,
I survey tlie harbour and all its traffic, the view exteiiding
from the lighthouses far to the right, to a horizon of sea to the
left. Beyond the harbour lies another county, with, first, its
sandy beach, where there are frequent wrecks — too interesting
to an invalid — and a fine stretch of rocky shore to the left ; and
above the rocks, a spreading heath, where I watch troops of boys
Sying their kites; lovers and friends taking their breezy walk on
Sundays ; the sportsman with his gun and dog ; and the washerwomen
^converging from the farm-houses on Saturday evenings, to carry
• their loads in company, to the village on the yet farther height. I
see them, now talking in a cluster, as they walk each with her
white burden on her head, and now in file, as they pass through
the narrow lane; and finally they part off on the village green,
each to some neighbouring house of the gentry. Behind the village
and the heath stretches the railroad ; and I watch the train
triumphantly careering along the level road, and puffing forth its
steam above hedges and groups of trees, and then labouring and
panting up the ascent, till it is lost between two heights, which at
last bound my view. But on these heights are more objects ; a
windmill, now in motion and now at rest ; a limekiln, in a
picturesque rocky field ; an ancient church tower, barely visible
in tlie morning, but conspicuous when the setting sun shines upon
it ; a colliery with its lofty wagon-way, and the self-moving wagons
running hither and thither, as if in pure wilfulness."

The origina. choice of the situation for the Priory appears to
have been dictated by that benevolence whicli was characteristic of

* Solarium, as the name implies, signifies a place exposed to the sun, and uras
npplicd originally to places on tlic tops of liouses where the Romans used to
take air and exercise. In tlio present instance it means simply a garden or
aummer-l.oiue.

the early religious foundations. Tynemoath Priory wu s iNMon
to the sailor, and when he looked upon its tower* he tbougbt of tba
Virgin and Saint Oswin, who were to sliield him from lite daogcn
of the great waters. That the situation, at the mouth of a river,
and on an elevated site, early recommended tbo |Jace m suitable
both for military defence and religious purposca, i> evident from
the fact that liobert do Mowbray, about the year 1090, (M
hither, and defended himself within its walls against William Itufus
(against whom he had conspired) ; but, after a time, finding that
he could hold out no longer, he sought " tanciuary " at the altar
of the church, from which, however, he was taken by totcv, atui,
after suffering a tedious imprisonment, was put to death. The
monastery at one time enjoyed considerable wealth. It poaseMed
twenty-seven manors in Northumberland, with their royalties,
besides other valuable lands and tenements. At the diwolulion, in
1539, there was a prior, with fifteen prebendaries and three novioes.
The animal revetmes of the priory were then estimated (separaiA
from the Abbey of St. Albati's, on which it depended) at
397/. 10*. 5rf. by Dugdale, and at 51 1/. 4r. Ic/. by Speed. The prior,
on the surrender of the monastery, received a pension of 80/. per
annum. The site and most of the lands were g^nted in the 5th of
Edward VI. to John Dudley, Earl of Northumberland ; but by bis
attainder in the next year it reverted to the Crown, in which it
remained till the 10th of Elizabeth. During the reign of Elizabeth
the place was occupied as a fortress. Camden says, " It is now-
called Tinemouth Castle, and glories in a stately and strong castle.''

The following description of the reinains is from a small work
published at North Shields in 1806. There is very slight altera-
tion at the present time, for the ruins are now carefully preserved.

" The approach to the priory is from the west, by a gateway
tower of a square form, having a circular exploratory turret on
each corner ; from this gateway, on each band, a strong double wall
has been extended to the rocks on the sea-shore, which from their
great height have been esteemed in former limes inaccessible. The
gate, with its walls, was fortified by a deep outward ditch, over
which there was a drawbridge, defended by moles on each side.
The tower comprehends an outward and interior gateway, the out-
ward gateway having two g^tes at the distance of about six feet
from each otlier, the inner of which is defended by a portcullis, and
an open gallery ; the interior gateway is, in like manner,
strengthened by a double gate. The space between the gateways,
being a square of about six paces, is open above to allow those on
the top of the tower and battlements to annoy assaila.':ts who had
gained the first gate.

" On passing the gateway, the scene is strikingly noble and
venerable ; the whole enclosed area may contain about six acres ;
the walls seem as well calculated for defence as the gateway tower ;
the view is crowded with august ruins ; many fine arches of the
priory are standing. The most beautiful part of these remains is
the eastern limb of the church, of elegant workmanship. The
ruins are so disunited, that it would be very difficult to determine
to what particular office each belongs. The ruins which present
themselves in front, on entering the gateway, appear to be the
remains of the cloister, access to which was afforded by a gatewaj
of circular arches, comprehending several members inclining inwards,
and arising from pilasters. After passing this gate, in the area
many modern tombs appear, the ground being still used for sepul
ture. The west gate entering into the abbey is still entire, of thn
same architecture as that leading to the cloister. The ground,
from the cloister to the south wall, is almost covered with founda-
tions, which, it is presumed, are the remains of the Priorj-. Two
walls of the church are standing : the end wall to the east contains
three long windows ; the centre window, the loftiest, is near twenty
feet high, richly ornamented with mouldings. Beneath the centro
window at the east end is a doorway of excellent workmanship,
conducting to a small but elegant apartment, which is supposed to
have contained the shrine and tomb of St. Oswin." (Fig. 709.^

Febshore, a name derived, it is said, from the great number
of pear-trees in the vicinity, is delightfully situated on the northern
bank of the Avon. The origin of the town is probably to be dated
from the foundation of the abbey here in the seventh century,
by Oswald, one of the nephews of Ethelbert, King of Mercia. The
patrons of the establishment seem to have had some difficulty in
making up their minds as to what particular religious community
should be permanently settled in it, for at one time we find scculai
clerks at Pershore, then monks, then seculars (females) again,
and lastly, from 984, Benedictine monks. Legend has been
busy concerning the early history of Pershore. One Duke
Delfere usurped the possessions, and in consequence — so it was

2 B ?.

18S

721.— A'ip.un,

712,-n.rl 1 .1, li

723.— Doorway of Barfrcston Chureb, Kent.

< t23.— BtfCraton

390

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book If.

generally believed — died eaten up by vermin. Oddo, another
Mercian duke, to whom the estates had passed, was so moved
by Delfere's miserable fate, tlwt he not only restored the lands,
but made a vow of celibacy, in order that no son of his should ever
be guilty of the sacrilege of endeavouring to obtain repossession.
There remain of tiie abbey some vestiges of flie moniastic build-
ings, a part of tiie entrance gateway, and considerable portions of
the church, as in the tower, the southern part of the transept, and
a chapel, all included in the existing church of the Holy Cross.
<Fig. 707.) Near the gateway we have mentioned, stood the
small chapel of St. Edburga, to wiiom the abbey Mas dedicated.
Tliis lady was a daughter of Edward tiie Elder, and distinguished
herself even in her childhood by her scholastic and pious tastes.
Her father one day placed before her a New Testament and several
other books on one side, and some fine clothes and ricli jewels on
the other, and desired her to choose. The princess at once took
the books. The king, thinking, no doubt, he was bound to obey
what he esteemed sucli decisive tokens of her proper position in life,
immediately placed her in a nunnery at Winchester, where she died,
and where her bones were preserved for ages after, as invaluable
relics.

No one need be surprised at the magnificence of the ancient priory
of Christ Church, Hampshire (Fig. 712), as that magnificence is
attested to the present day by the church, when the circumstances
related of the erection are considered. The first establishment of
tiie house is lost in the darkness of antiquity, but in the twelfth
century we find Ralph Flambard, that turbulent and oppressive,
but able and zealous prelate, busily engaged rebuilding the whole,
and obtaining the necessary funds by seizing the revenues of the
canons, allowing each of them merely a sufficiency for his sub-
sistence. We may imagine the confusion, the dismay, the uproar,
though, unfortunately, no Sydney Smith was tiien among the
oppressed to record their feelings and sentiments as on a somewhat
similar occasion in our own time. Tlie Dean, Godric, resisted the
bishop with all possible energy, but was, in consequence, degraded
from his oflBce, and obliged to seek refuge on the Continent ; and
though he was ultimately allowed to return, it was only in a spirit
of due obedience to his superior. Flambard, having removed all
opposition, levelled the old buildings to the ground, and raised the
iiew ones, oi wiiich considerable portions exist to this day : tliese
are to be found in the nave, the south-western aisle, and the
northern transept. But let it not be supposed that Flambard
obtained all the honours of this mighty work. According to a legend
told by the monkish writers, he had supernatural assistance.
Whenever the workmen were engaged in their labours, tiiere was
observed one workman of whom no one could tell from whence he
came, or what he was, except that he exhibited a most extraordinary
indefatigability in the business of raising the monastery, and an
equally extraordinary liberality in declining to be paid anything
for what he had done ; at the times of refreshment, and of settle-
ment of wages, he was ever absent. And so the work progressed,
until near completion. One day a large beam was raised to a
particular place, and found, unfortunately, to be too short. Tlie
interrupted and embarrassed workmen were unable to remedy the
defect, and retired to their dwellings for the day. The next
morning, when they returned to the church, there was the beam in
its right position, longer even than was required. The strange
workman immediately occurred to every one's thoughts ; and the
general conclusion was, that the Saviour liimself had been the
supernatural assistant. The dedication of the pile to Christ was
in later ages attributed to this circumstance, and hence comes
the name of Clirist Church. Nay, if there are any persons very
anxious about the legend, we believe they may yet find some
who will show them in the churcli what they hold to be the
very miraculous beam itself. It is probable that Christ Cliurch
was originally founded in the earliest days of Christianity in
England, on tlie site of a heathen temple, the usual mode in which
the shrewd missionaries of Rome at once attested the triumph
of the new over the old religion, and reconciled the people to the
change, by adopting their habitual places of worship. In the course
of the last century there was discovered, in the Priory foundations,
a cavity about two feet square, that had been covered with a stone
cemented into the adjoining pavement, and which contained a large
quantity of bones of birds, — herons, bitterns, cocks and hens.
Warner, a local antiquarian writer, observes that, among the
Romans, " many different species of birds were held in high vene-
ration, and carefully preserved for the purposes of sacrifice and
augural divhiation. Adopting the numerous absurdities of Egyptian
and Grecian worsliip, tlieir tolerating conquerors had affixed a
sacredness to the cock, the hawk, the heron, the cliicken, and other

birds ; the bones of which, after their decease, were not unfrequently
deposited within the walls of the temple of the deity to whom tliey
were considered as peculiarly appropriated." Portions of the Priory
yet remain, and a visitor to the neighbourhood occasionally hears of
tlie Convent Garden, now a meadow, of Paradise, the appropriately-
named place of recreation for the scholars of Christ Church school,
and forming also a relic of the Priory, — of vestiges of fish-ponds
and stews. But the church is the only important part of the Priory
now existing, which, apart from its architectural characteristics,
exhibits many interesting features. Including St. Mary's Chapel
at the eastern end, and the Tower at the western, the Church
extends to the distance of three hundred and eleven feet. The parts
of the building which may be separately distinguished are the Norman
remains already noticed, the Porch or principal entrance, and the
Tower, with the Great Window nearly thirty feet high. On the under
sides of the benches of the stalls, are a series of satirical and grotesque
carvings, representing, there can be little doubt, the monkish
opinions of the friars. In one is seen a fox with a cock for his
clerk, preaching to a set of geese, who are greedily imbibing the
doctrines he puts forth. In a second the people are typified by a
zanj% who, while his back is turned upon his dish of porridge, is
saved the trouble of eating it by a rat. A third exhibits a baboon
with a cowl on his head, reposing on a pillow, and exhibiting a
swollen paunch. From what we know of the origin of the friars^
who sprung up to reform the state of idleness and sensuality into
which the monks and clergy generally had fallen, one would think
the last of tliese pieces of carved satire must have told much more
strongly against its authors than its objects. Another very curious
carving is the Altar-piece, which Warner supposes to be coeval*
with Bishop Flambard. If so, it is one of the most extraordinary
things of the kind existing in England. The carving represents
the genealogy of Christ, by a tree springing from the loins of Jesse.
On each side is a niche, one containing a statue of David, the other
Solomon. Above these sit the Virgin with the child Jesus, and
Joseph, and surrounded by the Magi. Projecting heads of an ox,
and an ass, remind us of the manger, and of the flight to Egypt.
Still higher are shepherds with their sheep, the former looking up
toward a group of angels, over whom, at the apex of the carving,
God extends his protecting arms. Exclusive of all these figures,
which are mostly mutilated, there are niches which contained nine
others, and there are a host of small figures of saints, thirty-two in
number, also in niches, and each bearing his particular emblem or
distinguishing mark. The chief individual memories of Christ
Church are connected with the noble family of the Montacutes,
Earls of Salisbury. By them was the noble Tower at the west end
erected in the fifteenth century ; by them were the two small
Chantries in the North Transept raised ; by them was the beautiful,,
but mutilated Chapel — to the north of the altar — left to excite the
admiration of visitors to the Church by its beauty, to stir at the
same time their deepest sympathies and warmest indignation, as it
reminded them of the noble and most unhappy lady whose fate that
mutilation may be said to commemorate. The chapel was erected
by Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, for her own resting-place,
when in due course of nature she should have need of it. But the
venerable motlier of the eloquent Cardinal Pole, the man who had
refused to minister to the depraved appetites of Henry, and sub-
sequently held him up to the scorn and abhorrence of the European
world, was not likely to die a peaceful death in England during
that monarch's lifetime. In 1538 the chief relatives of the Cardinal,
namely Lord Montacute and Sir Geoffrey Pole, his brothers
and the Countess, his mother, were suddenly arrested with the
Marquis of Exeter and others, on a vague charge of aiding the
Cardinal, as the King's enemy ; and Geoffrey, the youngest, having
pleaded guilty and made a confession involving the remainder, on
a promise that he should be pardoned for so doing, the two noble-
men were beheaded on Tower Hill. A month afterwards, on the
ground of some alleged discoveries made through the wreck of a
French vessel on our shores, fresh arrests took place ; and parlia-
ment was instructed to pass bills of attainder against the living
mourners of the recent victims of the scaflTold, — namely, the Countess
of Salisbury, her grandson the child of Lord Montacute, and the
widow of the Marquis of Exoter, and with them were associated two-
knights. The Countess was then seventy years of age, but behaved
not the less with so much firmness and presence of mind on her ex-
amination before the Earl of Southampton and the Bishop of Ely,
that these personages wrote to their employer, Cromwell, saying
she was more like a strong and constant man than a woman, and
that she denied everytliing laid to her charge ; and that it seemed
to them either that her sons had not made her " privy or participate
of the bottom and pit of their stomach, or that she must le the

Chap. 11.]

OLD ENGLAND.

191

most arrant traitress that ever lived." Some of tlie Countess'ii
scrYant.H were cxaiiiiiie<l, and, no doubt, tampered with ; Btill no
sufficient material fur a critninul trial was to be obtained. What
next? Dismissal to tiicir homes, no doubt, under almost any other
English monarch: not so under tlie rule of the cruel Henry; so a
bill for their attainder, without the form of a trial, wa.s obtained
from the parliament, which should bo considered scarcely leas
infamous than the King to allow itself, iis it did, to be the constant
agent of his personal malignity. The two knight* were exe-
cuted ; the Marchioness of Kxeter was pardoned tome months later,
and what became of the boy does not appear: but as to the Countes.'i,
tno years after the high nobility and commons of England had
authorized the murders sought at their hands, and when men's minds
tliought the atliiir had reached its bloody conclusion at last, the
people of England were horrified, those at least whom the never-
ceasing wholesale state executions had not entirely brutalized, to
hear that the aged Countess had been dragged to tlio scaffold
after all, on the ground of some new provocation given by her son,
■Cardinal I'ole, and that one of the most frightful scenes in Englisli
history had taken j)lacc on the occasion of the poor lady's death.
When told to lay her head on the block, she answered, " No ! my
head never committed treason ; if you will have it, you must take
it as you can." The executioner strove to detain her, but she ran
swiftly round the scaflbld, tossing her head from side to side, while
the monsters struck her with their axes, until at last, with her grey
hair all dabbled in blood, she was held forcibly to the block, and
nn end put to her misery. There is, as we have already partly inti-
mated, an appendant to this awful picture to be found in the history
of Christ Church. 'It might have been supposed tiiat even Henry
would be glad to let such events pass as soon as possible into
oblivion; but his satellites knew him better; so when the com-
missioners were at work at the time of the Keformation, they
took care to tell him, in relation to their visit to Christ Church —
" In the church we found a chapel and monument made of Caen
stone, prepared by the late mother of Reginald Pole for her burial,
whicli we hate caused to he defaced, and all the arms and badges
clearly to be delete [erased]."

On one side of the tower, at the west end of St. John's Church,
CiiKSTF.n, may be seen the figures of a man and a hind; in that
rude pictorial representation we have a record of the origin of the
foundation of St. Jolin's, between eleven and twelve centuries ago ;
when King Ethelred was admonished in a vision that he should
erect the sacred pile on a spot where he would see a milk-white
hind. When entire, this building was worthy of its kingly founder,
having been at once large and magnificent. But one limb after
another of the edifice has disappeared, until now there remains little
more than the nave of a building that once had its transepts, and
choir, and cliapels, on the true cathedral scale. And that nave,
with its mighty pillars and arches, seems sadly shorn of its dignity
by the alterations and fittings up, including wooden galleries, that
have taken place to render tlie church suitable to our modern
notions of the accommodation required for a congregation. (Fig. 713.)
There are two interesting traditions connected with St. John's.
When, according to the monkish writers, Edgar took that famous
water excursion of his in a barge on the Dee, rowed by eight
kings, it was to the cliurch of St. John that he, taking his station
at tlie helm, personally directed their course, and then returned to
his palace. If this story be but of doubtful authenticity, we fear
our other will be still less entitled to credence. GiraUlusCambrensis,
in reference to the brave but unfortunate Harold, slain at Hastings,
Bays that he " had many wounds and lost his left eye w ith the stroke
of an arrow, and was overcome, and escaped to the county of
Chester, and lived there holily, as men troweth, an anchorite's life
in Saint James's cell, fast by St. John's Church, and made a good
end, as it was known by his last confession." Tlie believers in the
existence of Harold at Chester, long after he was supposed to have
been killed at Hastings, have been accustomed to show, by way of
supporting their views, a small antique-looking building over-
lianging a high clifl" on the south of the churchyard, and known as
the Anchorage. Two bodies, deposited in coffin-sha|)ed cavities, have
Jjeen found in the rock close by — no doubt the bodies of those who
have tenanted the Anchorage. But if we would follow the remains
to their undoubtetl re^'ting-place, we must visit Waltiiam Abbey.

Wat.tiiam Abbev, or Holy Cross, is situated on the eastern
bank of the river Lea, at the distance of twelve miles and a half
from London ; the latter name is derived from a holy cross, asserted
to have been brought hither by miraculous means during the reign
of Canute. Tovi, standard'.earer to Canute, founded here a
religious house for two oriests, to whose charge the sacred relic was

committed. After the death of Athelatan, (h« Mn and •acccMor of
Tovi, the cutate, it appean, reverted to the crown. The lordibip
won then given by the mouarcli (Edward the CoofeMor) to Harold,
on condition that he khould build a college, and funiisb it with all
necesaaries, relict, dres«e«, and omanieut«, in memory of Edward
aud his fpouse Editha. Harold in consequence rebuilt (lie diurck,
increased the number of prie»tJt to twelve, one of whom was the
governor, under the title of dean, gave it ample endowment*, and,
so far as the time permitted, made ic an excellent itchool of learning.
No less than seventeen manors were granted on this occoalun \tj
Harold, and confirmed to the establishment by the charter granted
by Edward. Previous to the fatal battle of Hastings, Harold here
ofl'ered up his vows; and he afterwards was brought here for inter-
ment with his two brothers, by their unhappy mother Githa, who
with great difficulty obtained Harold's remains from the Conqueror.
The canons on Harold's favourite foundation also experienced
William's resentment. It is said that he despoiled them of all tlieir
moveable wealth ; their lands, however, he left nearly entire.
Waltham contiimcd a college until 1177, when it was dissolved on
the allegetl account of the debauchery of the members, by Uenry
II., and an abbey for regular canons founded in its stead, whoM
number, according to Farmer, in his ' History of Walttiam Abbey,'
amounted to twenty-four. The Conqueror's cliarler was confirmed,
as were also various subsequent additional grants, and two new
manors were granted.

In 1 191 Waltham was made a mitred abbey. Richard I. gave to
the abbey the whole manor of Waltham, with great woods, and park
called Harold's park, and other lands, as well as the market of
Waltham. Henry III. frequently resided here, and, as a mark of
his favour, granted the Abbey a fair, to be held annually for seven
days. During this reign the church was again solemnly dedicated
in the presence of the king and many of the principal nobles. The
body of Edward I. was brought here in 1307, with great pomp,
where it remained for no less than fifteen weeks, during which time
six religious men were chosen weekly from the neighbouring monas-
teries to attend it night and day. The abbey was surrendered to
Henry VIII. at the dissolution, on the 23rd of March, in the thirty-
first year of his reign, by Robert Fuller, the last abbot, who had
previously made a vain tfl!'ort to ai-ert the impending ruin by pre-
senting the king with the magnificent seat of Copt Hall. The net
annual income at this period was 900/. 4s. 3</.

The only remains of the monastery are, a portion of the con-
ventual church, which now forms the parish church, an entrance
gateway and bridge across an arm of the Lea, some vaulted arches
forming a kind of dark passage of two divisions, and some broken
walls. The church must have been a magnificent specimen of
Norman architecture, if it were only from its great size. An idea
of the extent may be conveyed by stating that the site of Ilarold'.t
tomb, which stood either in tlie east end of the choir or in a chapel
beyond, is no less than one hundred aud twenty feet distant from
the termination of the present edifice. The original church con-
sisted of nave, transept, choir, and chajK'ls. There was also a large
lower rising from the intersection of the transept, containing " five
great tunable bells." Part of this tower having fallen, ihe
remainder was undermined and blown up, the choir, tower, transept,
and east chapel at once demolished. The nave and some adjacent
chapels alone remained : the nave, as before stated, with its side aisles,
forms the body of the present church. (Figs. 604, 605.) This is about
ninety feet in length, and in breadth, including the side aisles,
forty-eight feet ; it is in the Norman style, with round massive
piers dividing the nave from the aisles, semicircular arch, and zigzag
enrichments. One of these piers on each side is decorated with
spiral and another wiih very bold and rude zigz.ig indentations,
which, it is supposed, were formerly filled up with brass or other
metal. Above the first range of arches, su))|>orted on the piers we
have mentioned, are two other tiers of arches : those of the second
tier corresponding in width with those of the first, but being lower
in height ; the arches of the third tier are three to each arch of the
lower tiers, with a window pierceil in the middle one. The roof is
modern and plain. At the west end of the church is a heavy
square embattled tower, eighty-six feet high, bearing date lo58.
From the south side of the church projects the Lady-chapel, now
used as a vestry and school-room, under which is a fine arched
crypt, " the fairest," says Fuller, who was the incumbent from
1648 to 1658, "I ever .saw." Another little chapel, at the south-
east end, is now a repository for rubbish. These chapelr have
some beautiful portions in tlie decorated English style. Tlie
w indows in the south aisle have been but little altered. There is a
fine wooden screen, bearing the arms of Philip and Marv, and a
font, which appears to be very ancient. Near the screen there w«»

'"--::y^^^m}i--9''^' f)^^>^0gM0li<c^^ii^^

725.— Itoawey Abljey.

W6.— The Abbey Chorch, Bomsey, Hampshire.

730. —Norman Window,— Cagtoti
Church, Nortbamplonshirc.

lea.

»31.— Norman Window.— St. Cross.

128.— St. Cross, near Winchester.

529.-SI. Cross.

No. 25.

T 31— Oxford OtUwdnL

t3«.-3»ct«ty. WMUalm«tr.-n«a . iketdi (7 Dr. atfAdr Wbm to dcCraeta 111 Its.]

193

191

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

formerly a painting on glass of Harold ; this was destroyed by tlie
Puritans during the reign of Charles I. Farmer observes that the
cliurch " is observed by all artists, and the most curious, to stand
the exactest east and west of any other in Great Britain." Tlie
abbey refectory is reported to have stood eastward of the church,
and the stables on the spot now known as the Abbey Farm. The
gateway we have mentioned is in a mucii later style of architecture
than the church. Two stone coffins have been found at different
periods, eacli of which was at first thought to be Harold's, but
there app(?ars to have been no proof of the correctness of the
supposition

Near the abbey mills is a wide space of ground called the
Braniblings, but formerly known by the name of Rome-land ; owing,
it is supposea, to the rents having been appropriated to the see of
Home. On this spot Henry VIII. had a small pleasure-house,
which he occasionally occupied in his visits to Waltham. One
of these visits led to an important event — the introduction of
Cranmer to Henry, and his consequent elevation to influence and
authority.

If history were altogether silent on the subject of Verulam, and
we knew nothing of the slaughter of its countless thousands of
Roman inhabitants by the Britons under Boadicea, and of other
scarcely less important events, that show the place to have been
one of the most ancient and distinguished of British and Roman
towns, a walk through the neighbourhood of its more modern
representative, St. Albans, even at tlie present day, would tell us
our footsteps were among the memorials of a mighty people, that
we looked upon tlie site of what must Iiave once been a great and
magnificent place. There is no mistaking the character of these
imge fragments of wall, or of these gigantic embankments, not
unaptly denominated the Verulam Hills, or of the extent of the
place both walls and embankments formerly enclosed. Nay, even
the very Abbey Cliurch of St. Albans, stamped as it is with an
expression of the extremest antiquity in its general style of archi-
tecture, tells of something infinitely more ancient, in the hetero-
geneous materials of which it is built, — tiles, bricks, flints,
tlie debris of Roman Verulam. But if we avail ourselves of the
assistance of history, our wonder and admiration are indefinitely
enhanced. Before London as yet was, Verulam existed, not only
as an important city, but as the seat of a line of princes, tlie
Cassii. After their overthrow, and the complete establishment
of the dominion of the masters of the world, Verulam was one
of the few places that rejoiced in the honour and advantages
attending the elevation to the rank of a muiiicipium or free city.
Its wealth, as well as its large population, at the time of the British
outburst under Boadicea, is evident from the allusion to it made
by Tacitus, who seems to intimate that its riches formed an addi-
tional inducement with the Britons to attack it, and from the
number of persons — seventy thousand — who are said to have fallen
in Verulam, London, and some other less important places. It
may be easily supposed that St. Albans must be a rich mine for
the antiquary to delve in, tiiough its choicest treasures have probably
been already gathered. " Were I to relate," says Camden, " what
common report affirms of the many Roman coins, statues of gold
and silver, vessels, marble pillars, cornices, and wonderful monu-
ments of ancient art dug up here, I should scarcely be believed."
One of the most important discoveries was made some nine centuries
ago, during the time of Abbot Eadmer, who having employed men
to ransack the ruins, they " tore up the foundations of a great
place in the midst of the ancient city ; and while they were won-
dering at the remains of such largo buildings, they found in the
hollow repository of one wall, as in a small press, among some
lesser books and rolls, an unknown volume of one book, which was
not mutilated by its long continuance there ; and of which neither
the letters nor the dialect, from their antiquity, were known to any
person who could then be found ; but the inscriptions and titles
in it shone resplendent in letters of gold. Tiie boards of oak,
the strings of silk, in great measure retained their original strength
and beauty. When inquiry had been industriously made very far
and wide concerning the notices in this book, at last they found
one priest, aged and decrepit, a man of great erudition, Unwon by
name, who, knowing the dialect and letters of different languages,
read the writing of the before-mentioned book, distinctly and
openly. In the same manner he read without hesitation, and he
explained without difficulty, notices in other books that were found
ill the same room and within the same press; for the letters were
such as used to be written when Verulam was inhabited, and the
dialect was that of the ancient Britons then used by them. There
were some things in the other books, written in Latin, but these

were not curious ; and in the first book, the greater one, of which
I have made mention before, he found written ' The History of
Saint Alban, the proto-martyr of the English,' which the church
at this very day recites and reads; tci which that excellent scholar
Bede lends his testimony, differing in nothing from it. That book
in which the 'History of St. Alban' wa.s contained, was deposited
with the greatest regard in tiie treasury of the abbey ; and exactly
as the aforesaid presbyter read the book written in the ancient
dialect of England or Britain, with which he was well acquainted,
Abbot Eadmer caused it to be faitiifully and carefully set down by
some of the wiser brethren of the convent, and then more fully
taught in the public preachings. But when the history was thus
made known, as I have said, to several, by being written m Latin,
what IS wonderful to tell, the primitive and original work fell away
in round pieces, and was soon reduced irrecoverably to dust."
(Whitaker's ' Ancient Cathedral of Cornwall.') As may be sup-
posed, the name, St. Albans, is derived from the saint, whose
history was thus strangely discovered. Alban, or Albanus, was a
Roman citizen of Verulam, who, during the dreadful persecution
instituted by Dioclesian against the Christians, gave shelter to one
of their ministers or priests, named Amphilabus, who had fled to
Verulam from Wales. His retreat was unfortunately discovered,
and the judge of the city sent soldiers to arrest him ; when Albanus,
who had received some private intimation of their approach, sent
awaj' his guest in safety, and then putting on his habit, presented
himself to the soldiers as the man of whom they were in search.
By them he was conveyed to the judge ; where, throwing off his
cloak, and revealing himself, he proceeded to defend the act of
heroism he had performed, by one still more heroic, — a bold and
unequivocal declaration of his belief in the doctrines of the Cross.
Great was the excitement and indignation. At first he was scourged
with the utmost severity, in the hope of inducing him to recant;
but seeing all efforts inefiectual, he was taken the same day to a
neighbouring hill, and there beheaded. Two miracles are related
as having occurred at his death. The bridge over the river was
so narrow that the multitudes who crowded to see the execution
were unable to pass, until Albanus prayed that the waters might be
divided and afford a safe passage. This was done ; and the execu-
tioner, in consequence, refused to perform his office, and was himself
condemned to death on account of ids scruples. The other miracle
has been tlius recorded by a poetical writer of the time of James I.,
in an inscription which was placed below a painted window in the
abbey, representing the martyrdom : —

" This imago of our frailty, painted glass.
Shows where the life and death of Alban was.
A Knight beheads the martyr, but so soon.
His eyes dropt out to see wliat ho liaJ done ;
And leaving their own head, eeem'd with a tear
To wail the other liead laid mangled there :
Beeause, before, his eyes no tears would shed.
His eyes tliemselves like tears fall from his Iiead
Oh, bloody fact, that whilst St. Alban dies.
The murderer himself weeps out his eyes."

After the execution, the people of St. Albans had the story of
Albanus's disgrace, as they esteemed it, engraved upon marble and
inserted in the city walls. Even then, however, no doubt St.
Albans was secretly divided against itself; and men were heard
still whispering to each other in solitary corners in something like
the words of the scientific martyr of a later time — " It moves ;" for
both Bede and Gildas state that but a very few years later a
church was founded, in honour of Alban, on the very spot where he
had suffered. And then, too, the public record of his disgrace
disappeared from the walls, to give place to the triumphant memo-
rials of the new religion. And in high veneration did ttie place,
afterwards known as St. Albans, remain from that time forward,
though it was not till the eighth century that it enjoyed the
honours, usually accorded to all such sacred spots, of having a
house of religious persons established on it. Offa, the great Mercian
king, being then in much trouble of mind as to various incidents of
his career, and more particularly as to the murder of Ethelbert,
sovereign of the East Angles, determined to set all right by
founding a monastery. Then came the question as to the where-
about. After a while, being at Bath, as Matthew Paris, the
historian of the abbey, tells us, in the rest and silence of night, he
seemed to be accosted by an angel, who instructed him to raise
from the earth the ashes of the body of the first British martyr,
Alban, and place them in a suitably-ornamented shrine. To Hum-
bert, Archbishop of Lichfield, and Unwona, Bishop of Leicester,
his special counsellors, did Offa communicate the particulars of this
vision ; when the whole three set out to search for the relics. Aa

CUAP. II.I

OLD ENGLAND.

they appruachoct Vcrulam, the king saw a light, oh of a torch Hhiiiing
over the town, and, as a harbinger of succeso, gladly was it
welcomed. " Wliin llio king, the clergy, and the jKHiple," con-
tinues the liistoriun, " were BMembled, they entered on the search
with prayer, fasting, and alnu, and struck the earth cverywiiere
witii intent to hit the spot of burial ; but the Hcarcli had not been
continued long when a light from heaven was vouchsafed to asiiat
the discovery, and a ray of fire stood over the place, like the star
that conducted the Magi to find the Holy Jesus at Hctlilehcm.
The groiuid was opened, and, in tho presence of Offa, the body of
Allun was found." It was then taken in solemn proce^ision to the
church before mentioned, which had been erected on the very spot
where Alban had been beheaded, and there deposited in a shrine
enriched with plates of gold and silver. OH'a himself placed a
circle of gohl, inscribed witli Alban *s name and title, round tho
skull. And then wtis commenced the erection of the monastery
around the church ; a matter deemed of such vast importance, that
OH'a made a preliminary visit to Rome to procure the requisite powers
and privileges, obtained at no less a cost than the making perpetual
the payment of Peter-pence by the English nation (a custom
that did last for several centuries), but which previously had been
gntnted by lua merely for the maintenance of a Saxon college at
Rome. On his return to England, a great assembly was held at
Verulam, of the nobles and prelates, when it was resolved that the
monastery should not only be on a large scale, sufficient .'ndeed,
for the accommodation of one hundred monks, but .so amply
endowed as to be able to exercise the rites of hospitality to the
many travellers who passed through the neighbourhood along the
Walling Street in tlieir journeys between London and the North ;
a gratifying trait of tiie feelings, as well as an interesting glimpse of
the manners of Saxon England. The tnonks were all carefully
seleetetl from the houses most distinguished for the regularity of
discipline. The first stone was, of course, laid by Oifa, who
laboured at tho undertaking with a zeal and perseverance that were,
con.^idsring his position and the many duties it imposetl, really
extraordinary ; and although the buildings were mostly erecteil in
the course of the first four or five years, death found him still
busily engaged in his labour of love and piety, rather than of
remorse, in which it first originated. A touching story is told
coneerning his burial. From some unexplained cause, Willegod,
the first abbot, seems to have thought it his duty to refuse per-
mission to inter the remains of Offa in the monastery ; two months
after OflTa's death, Willegod himself died, partly through the grief
he is said to have felt on account of that refusal. In the hLstory
of the subsequent abbots of St. Albans we might find ample
materials for an interesting volume ; we can, therefore, only attempt
to select here and there a passage. During the lifetime of the
eleventh abbot, iElfric, some alarm was felt lest, in the ravages of
the Danes, the remains of St. Alban might fall into their unre-
specting haiuls ; and in consequence the monks came to a determi-
nation which does great credit to their shrewdness, and which led
to an incident strikingly illustrative, in various points, of the
monkish character. A wooden chest was brought, into which
were put the saint's relics, and the costly shrine, into which, we
presume, they had been placed by Offa ; to these were added some
of the most valuable eflfects of the monastery. The chest, with its
precious contents, was then let into a secret cavity in the wall of
the cliurch, and securely closed up. A few of the monks only were
admitted into the abbot's confidence. This completed one part of
the arrangement. Another and very rich-looking chest was now
obtaineil, and the bones of a common monk placed therein with
great show of respect. This, with some of the ornaments of the
church, and an old ragged cloak, which it was insinuated was
the very cloak that Amphilabus had worn, and in which Alban
went disguised before the judge, were sent to the monks of Ely to
take care of, who received them with undissembled joy. After the
alarm had subsided, .iElfric demands his chest and other deposits ;
but the monks are determined to take such care of them, as never
again to let them leave their own walls. -ZEIfric implores — but
they care not ; ^Ifric threatens, and at last they are somewhat
frightened ; a schism takes place in the monastery, some insisting
upon the return cf the martyr's remains, some insisting uix)n their
detention ; at List, however, there is a sudden unanimity ; they will
return the chest, but first open the bottom very subtilly, and
replace the relics by others. No sooner, however, does JElfric
examine the chest on its return, than he sees the imposition, and
forgetting his own deception in his indignation at the deception of
his brethren of Ely, exposes the whole affair, to the sorrow of
many a pious spirit, the mirth of many a merry one, and the never-
ending annoyance and mortification of the poor monks of the Isle.

If the monactio character, but too oft«o, it U to be tmrtA, «M
justly chargeable with theM little deoqXioM. U ba<l many exeeilent
qualitic* by way of counterpoix-. The records of the abbey of St.
Albans exhibit varioiu inatancee of noble devotiuu to the publio
gixxl. Thus tho predeceMor of .Slfrie, LeofVic, son of the Earl ol
Kent, and aAcrward* Archbishop of Canterbury, during the preva.
Icnco of a grievoiu famine, fint expended fbr the relief of iJm
people the treasure* that had been aet apart for the erection of • sew
church, and then sold tho very materials, the slabs of itnnw, tlM
columns, and the timber that had been dug up for the Mme pnrpOM
from the inexhaustible quarry of the rulnaof VeruUm. TotlieiealM
he addc<l the gold and silver veMeU that belonged to the church and
to his own table. His wiae liberality cauaed much diasenaioo among
the monks, but he had his reward in his own inward latbfaction,
and in the gratitude of his fellow-men generally, aome of whom,
the most exalted in rank, warmly supported him. Another abbot,
the successor of iElfric, Leofttan, confesaor to the Confcsaor, cut
down the thick groves and woods that covered the Watliog Street,
and which had become the haunts of wolves, wild boar*, ataga, and
wild bulls (these were among the inhabitants of Old England), as
well as of a still more terrible class of ravagers, the human robbera
and outlaws who made plunder their trade. And yet a third abbot
must be mentioned, Fre<leric, descended from .Saxon royal blood,
and with the true current still pouring through his veins. It was
his misfortune to be Abbot of St. Albans at the period of the
Conquest. William, after the battle of Hastingi, had gradually
made way to London ; but finding his entrance resisted, roamed
about the country for some time, doing all the mischief he could,
thereby intimating, we presume, to the people, the advantage of
quickly coming to a better understanding with such a reckless and
potent enemy. On his return towards London, his road lay through
St. Albans. As he approache<l that place, the passage was fouml
to be stopped by masses of great trees that had been felled and
drawn across the road. The Abbot of St. Allans was sent for to
explain these demonstrations, who, in answer to the king's ques-
tions, frankly and fearlessly said, " I have done the duty apper-
taining to my birth and calling ; and if others of my rank and
profession had performed the like, as they well could and ought,
it had not been in thy power to penetrate into the land so far."
Not long after, the same Frederic was at the head of a confederacy,
determined, if possible, to compel William to reign like a Saxon
prince, that is, according to the ancient laws and customs, or to
place England's darling, Edgar Atheling, in his room. William
submitted for a time, and, in a great council at Berkhainpstead,
swore, upon all the relics of the church of St. Albans, tlat he
would keep the laws in question, the oath being administered by
Abbot Frederic. In the end, however, the Conqueror grew too
strong to be coerced into any measures, however nationally excellent
or desirable, and he does not seem to have cared much about oath-
breaking, unless indeed it was when he had exacted the oath — the
unhappy Harold, for instance, found that no light matter — and so
William became more oppressive than ever. St. Albans, as might
have been anticipated, suflfered especially from his vengeance ; he
seized all its lands that lay between Bamet and London-stone, and
was with difficulty prevented from utterly ruining the monastery.
As it was, the blow was enough for Frederic, who died of grief in
the monastery of Ely, whither he had been compelled to fly.

We have before had occasion to notice the many able and zealous
men whom William intro<luced into our bishoprics, and abbatial
offices, in the place of the Saxon dignitaries, whom he displaced or
killed off: St. Albans forms no exception to this general rule.
Paul, said by some to be the king's own son, was made al>bot, who
signalized his rule by a rebuilding of the entire abbey, church
included, from the enormous masses of materials that had been
previously collected from the Roman city. The " young monks "
of the abbey possessed a less gratifying recollection of him. To
these " young tnonks," says Matthew Paris, " who, according to
their custom, lived upon pasties of fresh meat, he prevented all
inordinate eating," by first stinting them in quantity, and then in
substituting kar-pie, or herring-pie, made of " herrings and sheets
of cakes." One would have supposed there was no need of stinting
the use of that dish. The new church was consecrated by the
succeeding abbot, Albany, 1115, when a goodly company were
present, including Henry I. and Queen Maud, with a crowd of
prelates and nobles, all of whom were for eleven days entertained
by the abbey at its own cost. The spiritual connection of St,
Cuthbert with the abbey began in this abbot's time, who is said
to have enjoyed " a wonderful cure of a withered arm " through
the saint's intercession. From the period of the erection of the new
church, the abbey gradually began to recover its lost prosperity,

2C2

>ta

141.

liX

U3.

iu.

7?9.— Specimen of Lombardic Architecture.

1»

Konnin Capitals.

73?. Jumieges. "33. Sanson-snr-ElUe. 1i3. St. Peter's, Northampton. T40. Steetly, Derbyshire. ?41 and W. St. John's, Chester.
712, 743, and 746. Rochester Cathedral. 74S. Canterbury. 746. St. Georges de EochervUle. 748. Oxford.

M» to »se. Shafts of Columns.

196

Norman Archltectnral Decorations.

757 to 766. Arch- Mouldings. 7G6 to 772, Strings and Imposts.

775 to 778. Ornaments on Flat Surfaces.

780 Specimens of Lombardic Architecture.

773, 774. Cornices.

731. — Normau Intersecting Arcbes, Lincoln.

Taa.»Ttw UubudiiKn. VUioo of Ibni7 IL

T84.««Uvrfc Iratlo^ « TaVur.

T«S,^Fubia( wlih * Salo* KtU

tM^-Hmt taaUig • TAor.

787.— Bjb-Ainile

"*»t — Cottume of Nonnai

k'9 Id Utb Ueniuiy.

T8S.— Hon* ttllaa.

1t».—W»itT Tournamenl.

7»1.— BiidolcUrg bj Clip-Ml

7*3— naylDg Bma

7M.— Ancient (^Uttai: ; no» jtsnjlng at OBhun. Kcct

T>(.— BowUax.

198

OLD ENGLAND.

[Book II.

and to rise to even greater splendour. Abbot Gorham's rule marks
perhaps the most important era of this progress. He procured
exemption for the abbey from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction other
than that of the Pope, a favour obtained through the personal
recollections of the latter — Adrian, the Englishman, who then
filled the chair of St. Peter, and who liad been born at Abbot's
Langley. To this was added a grant of precedence ; " as St.
Alban was distinctly known to be the first martyr of the English
nation, so the abbot of his monastery should at all times, among
other abbots of tlie English nation, in degree of dignity be reputed
first and principal." Many disputes and heartburnings arose
through these privileges : the Bishops of Lincoln were discontented
to be deprived of their usual jurisdiction ; the abbots of Westminster,
of what they seem to have considered their proper seat, the one of
highe-t honour and dignity in parliament. In the second point the
Abbots of St. Albans were ultimately defeated through the supine-
ness of one of their number, who was content to be foremost in
learning; but in the first they were perfectly successful, the Bishops
of London giving up all opposition, after a very marked interference
by royalty, during the abbacy of Gaurine. The king happened at
the time to be a visitor to the abbey, and thus addressed the
astonished prelate : " By the eyes of God, I was present at the
agreement. What is it, my lord of Lincoln, tiiat you would
attempt ? Do you think these things were done in secret ? I,
myself, and the most chosen men of the realm, were present ; and
what was then done is ratified by writings the most incontestable,
and confirmed by the testimony of the nobles. The determination
stands good ; and whoever sets himself to combat this abbot and
monastery, combats me. What seek you ? — to touch the pupil of
mine eye ?" " By no means, your ;:.ajesty," we can fancy the
astounded prelate replying in a troubled and tremulous voice, and
retiring back into perpetual silence on the subject thenceforth.

Literature and tlie arts appear to have ever found a welcome
reception at St. Albans. The most eloquent of the monastic his-
torians, Mattliew of Paris, was a monk here, as was also Roger
de Wendover, from «hom the former transcribed a portion of his
liistory ; and William liishanger, who continued the narration
from the point where Matthew ceased. Tlien again, we read of
several scribes ami copyists being constantly employed in tlie
monastery in the twelfth century, by Abbot Symond, and of a house
having been built expressly for copyists in the fourteenth century.
But the most interesting event of a literary nature, connected with
the abbey, was tlie introduction of printing, almost immediately
after its first introduction into England by Caxton. The earliest
book known to be issued by tiie great English printer, from an
English office, is dated 1474 ; the first book printed at St. Albans
is of the date 1480, in which year no less than three publications ap-
peared. The most remarkable of the St. Albans productions was the
curious ' Gentleman's Recreation,' printed here in 1486, and which
consists of three treatises, having for their subjects hawking,
hunting and fishing, and coat armour ; and the principal author
or coiii[)iler of which was a lady of rank and the head of a religious
house, the nunnery of Sopwell, a subordinate establishment to the
abbey. It was an interesting fact that two abbeys, tiiose of West-
minster and St. Albans, should have been the first English printing-
oflBces ; that the new art, one of the first consequences of which
was the Reformation and the dissolution of monasteries, should
have had monks for its earliest patrons. The arts have fared no
less wortliily than literature at the hands of the abbots of St.
Albans, from the earliest times. Paul, the first Norman abbot,
adorned the space behind the high altar of the church with " stately
painting." The shrine, made in 1129, by Abbot Gorham, for the
relics of St. Alban, had for its artificer Anketill, who had been
Mint-master to the King of Denmark, and who, during the con-
struction of the superb work intrusted to him, appears to have
grown so much attached to the abbey, that he would not afterwards
leave it, but took the cowl and became a member. When the
great repair and improvements of the church took place during the
rule of Abbot Trumpington, in the thirteenth century, and when,
imong other beautiful works, St. Cuthbert's Screen was raised,
we find, extraordinary as the fact seems and worthy of all admira-
tion, that the chief architects and sculptors were the abbey's own
members, namely, its Treasurer, Richard of Thydenhanger ; its
Keeper of the Seal, Matthew of Cambridge ; its Sacrist, Walter de
Colchester : as to the last of whom, Matthew Paris says he was at
once excellent in painting, sculpture, and carving. Looking at
these and the many similar instances already pointed out, and which
are probably but so many indications of the multitude of facts of
the same kind tliat have been left unrecorded, it seems hardly
possible to overrate the beneficial influence which these religious

establishments of Old England must have had upon the national
mind, humanizing, harmonizing, and ennobling it in a thousand ways,
apart from any religious merits, and in spite of their many and
notorious religious abuses.

All that is necessary to give a reader who has not seen St.
Albans a faint glimpse of what it is (and those who have seen it
do not need our aid), may be briefly told. With a preliminary
reference, therefore, to the engraving (Fig. 606), we may state that
its amazing size, the great variety of architectural styles, comprising,
we verily believe, every one ever known in England from the days
of the Saxons down to the fifteenth century, including tlie em ire
rise, prosperity, and fall of the Gothic, and the strange medley of
the materials used in the construction, these are the characteristics
that first strike every beholder. The building is in the form of a
cross, extending from east to west about six hundred feet, and from
north to south, along the transepts, more than two hundred feet.
A square tower of three stages of stories, with a spire, rises at the
intersection. In the interior, the famous .screen of St. Cuthbert
divides the choir from the nave (Fig. 607) ; whilst the altar or
Wallingford's screen is placed, as its name implies, over the altar,
separating the choir from the presbytery : this is one of the most
beautiful pieces of stone-work in the country, of the age of Edward
IV. Although finished in the time of Abbot Wallingford, it was
planned and commenced by Abbot Whethamsted, as his arms upoi
the screen yet show. Whethamsted was one of the wortiiies of St.
Albans, a most liberal, able, and indefatigable man. During his rule
the wars of the Roses were at the height, and we need only mention
the names of the two great battles of St. Albans, in one of which
Henry VI. was defeated and made prisoner, and in the other was
successful, in order to intimate that the Abbot of St. Albans must
have had a troubled time of it. This monument is one of the most
remarkable in the church ; where also, among many other monu-
ments, may be particularly mentioned tliose of Abbot Ramryge^
and of Humplirey, Duke of Gloucester, whose fate we liave alread"/
alluded to in our pages. St. Alban himself lies in the presbytery,
where a stone in the middle of the pavement bears the inscription !
" S. Albanus Verolainensis, Anglorum Proto-Martyr, xvii Juni_^,
ccxcvii :" a date that does not exactly agree with the period
referred to by the story, ' The Emperor Dioclesian's persecution of
the Christians,' which took place in 303.

On the 3rd of February, 1832, a part of the wall of the upper
battlement on the south-west side of the abbey fell upon the roof
below, in two masses, at an interval of five minutes between the
fall of each fragment. The concussion was so great that the inlia-
bitants of the neighbouring houses described it as resembling the
loudest thunder ; and the detached masses of the wall came down
with such force that a large portion of the roof, consisting of lead
and heavy timber, was driven into the aisle below. Besides the
damage thus occasioned, tlie abbey generally has been a good deal
out of repair for several years. The nave has been restored ; but
there is still a great deal to be done, which cannot be attempted by
local subscription. This is a national work ; and a grant frnm
Parliament might be far better employed on sucii a sujierb structure
— having no revenues of its own — than on many a tninipery edifice
— a Buckingham Palace, for example, or a National Galleiy — of
our own day.

Though no monastery at any period, the church and hospital of
St. Cross present to this day so mucli the semblance of a monastery,
in the general style of its buildings, and their juxtaposition with
the noble church, and in the dress of the members, whom on oui
visits we see wandering about in the precincts, each in his black
cloak, and with a large silver cross on his breast, that with a little
exercise of the imagination one may easily fancy the old Catholic
times revived, and half anticipate, as we pace silently and
thoughtfully along towards the sacred edifice, that we siiall hear
the masses sung for the souls of some great departed — Henry de
Blois, perhaps, King Stephen's brother, who first founded the
establishment, or Cardinal Beaufort, who refounded it, and with
much greater magnificence. But the place is, in truth, a moiuimeiit
simply of the charity of our forefatliers, and we need not look in
any part of England for one more worthy of them. The hospital
was originally founded for thirteen poor men : these were to reside
within its walls, and receive a daily allowance of three and a
quarter pounds of bread, a gallon and a half of beer, besides mortrel,
an ancient and no doubt very good kind of egg-flip, and besides a
quantity of wastel bread, or dainty cakes. Then there was fish in
Lent for dinner, flesh at other times, and an excellent supper
always provided. But the building here on our left as we enter
the first quadrangle, and called Hundred Men's Hall, reminds us

ClIAP. II.]

OLD ENGLAND.

iy»

that wo have not niuiiiioiied llic whole i)rovUion made by the
warlike but cliaritable bishoj) fur the poor. One hundred of the
most indigent inliabitantu of Winchester were provided with a
dinner in that hall every day, and as their respective allowances
were more than even the .sliarpe»t-»et appetites required, they were
permitted to take the remainder hiinie with them ; it was, in short,
a dinner for their families as well as tiieniselves. To both these
classes were added the rcligiout and other officials, who coniprise<l
a master, steward, four chaplains, thirteen clerks, and seven
choristers, all eiUicated in the hospital. This, to our notions,
should seem pretty well for one charitable e.stablisinnent ; but
Bishop Bloi.s' successor thoiiglii he could do better, and so added
another hundred poor men to the daily dinner in the halls. Lastly,
having sunk through corruptions, — its revenues having been plun-
<lored and wasted, — Cardinal Beaufort tiiought it only deitling in
a libera! spirit wiih the hospital, after AVilliam of Wykeham
had enfiircuil restitution of the old estates, to do something to raise
them still higher in amount than they had ever been, and make
the most hospitable of institutions still more hospitable. So thirty-
five members were at once added to the thirteen for whom a
))cinianent iiomc and maintenance had been provided ; and two
priests and three nuns to the religious body, the last to wait upon
the sick in the infirmary. And to what has all this dwindled ?
Here are stately buildings; walks, grass-plots, and flower-borders,
all in the trimmest order ; lodges for the brethren, each having his
three rooms, and some hundred a year to spend in them, in the
most comfortable manner, for he may follow a trade or profession
in the College, may liave his wife and family with him there if he
pleases ; but how many brethren are thereof the forty-eight that were
here maintained ? Why, some eleven or twelve. Beaufort wisiied his
charily to be called the "Alms House gf Noble Poverty;" and it
has generally been supposed he meant thereby to aid reduced gentle-
men in their lowest estate; the modern and practical reading has
been, that the Noble Poverty intended to be benefited was that parti-
cular slate of pecuniary difficulty which is only evidenced in a non-
capability of niiiintaining faithful old servants at its own expense,
and wiiich, therefore, kindly hands them over to the care and
expense of the hospital. Let it not also be overlooked that any
one who knocks at tlie porter's gate before the day is " too far spent,"
may receive a horn of ale and a slice of bread ; few, e pt
pleasure-seeking tourists, do come for such a purpose, but we must
own, now that the extensive process of feeding two hundred poor
men of Winchester daily has been quietly got rid of, it is as well
not to mind these bread and ale casualties, which form the only
ie.xisting vestige of the custOHi, particularly as they are generally
well paid for in gratuities. Of course, in these remarks we refer
to no particular persons or time ; there is no saying when or how
the change was consummated ; it has been in process for cen-
turies ; but it does stir one's indignation to see the property of
the poor, wherever we look, thus silently filched from them. It is
but a simple m;itter of arithmetic to estimate what must have been
tlie value now of endowments that four centuries ago supported
entirely forty-eight families, and partially two hundred more. The
church, we may add, yet remains in many respects as Blois himself
left it. It is of the cathedral form, with a huge massive Norman
tower at the intersection of the transept by the nave and chancel
or choir. (Fig'>. 728, 729, 731.) The very antiquity, of course,
gives interest to the structure ; but it possesses features of a higher
kind in its architectural characters, which have been deemed of such
importance, tliat Dr. Milner thought the Gothic was actually
discovered from the accidental effect produced by some peculiar
intersections of circular arches in the chapel or church of St. Cross.

\ Romsey Church, the chief remain of Romsey Abbey, is generally
supposed to have been built by the kings Edward the Elder and
Edgar; but the regularity of the plan, no less than the finished
character of the workmanship of the building, have induced high
authorities, Mr. Britton for instance, to attribute the erection to
the latter pait of the eleventh or beginning of the twelfth century
— the very periods that the records of the abbey have made so full
of interest, in coimection with its internal affairs. Royally founded
— Romsey seems also, through a succession of abbesses, to have
been long royally governed. But it is not that circumstance ."simply
that has invested the fine old church and the neighbouring niins
with an attraction even more jx)tent than that of their architecture.
We have more than once had occasion to mention the good queen
Maud or Matilda, the wife of Henry I. ; it was from Romsey
Abbey the king took her to become his bride, and under very
important circumstances. She had been educated here from her
childhood, under the care of the Abbess Christina, her relative, and

cousin to the Cotifeaior, who barl evidently clwrbhed io Maud a lofty
spirit, well becoming the daughter of the King of 8coiUnd, aiMl a
descendant on the mother'* aide of llu* gmt Alfred. X* sIm grew
up, many suiton appeared, among tbmn Alan, Earl of Richmond,
who died before he could obtain an answer from the king, UuAm;
and William de (iureune, ICurl of Surrey, who doe* appear lo Im*«
obtained an answer and a refuaal. When Uufua died and flrary
came to the throne, a new, and what mo*i women would have
thought a dazzling, pro»pect opened upon Maud ; the yuung king
himself ap[ieire<l as her suitor. But (he rccollcction» of llio bluodr
field of Hiisting", on which had been destroyed the nationality of
her country, pressed stronger upon her mind tliau the penooal
advantage which might accrue to benelf from marrying tlie
son of the Conqueror ; so she desired to be permitted to decline
the match. But the country atid the people she lo loved were
even more interested tliaii Maud in the succeu of the pro|i(Mal.
She was told she might restore the ancient honour of England, and
be a pledge of reconciliation and friendship between the two race*;
whilst otherwise their enmity would be everlasting. Maud could
not resist that argument, and at last reluctantly consented. But
now a new difticulty arose. Many among the Normans, who
were not at all desirous of seeing an end put to the state of things
that had given them so much power, asserted that Maud was posi>
tively a nun ; that she had been seen wearing the veil, which made
her for ever the si>ouse of Christ. Maud's explanation is one of then
very interesting passages of ancient hi.story which give us a true and
mait melancholy picture of the state of the people during the firai
few years after the Conquest. Having denied that she had erer
taken the veil, she said, " I must confess that I have sometime*
appeared veiled, but listen to the cause: in my first youth, when I
was living under her care, my aunt, to save roe, a* she nid, from
the lust of the Normans, who attacked all females, was accustomed
to throw a piece of black stuff over my head, and when I refused
to cover myself with it she treated me very ro'ighly. In hci
presence I wore that covering, but as soon as she was out
of sight I threw it on the ground, and trampled it under my
feet in childish anger." The chief ecclesiastics of England in
solemn council determined, in effect, that this explanation was
sufficient, by declaring Maud free. The marriage accordingly
took place, and threw a momentary gleam of sunshine over the
hearts of the miserable Saxon people. The history of another
abbess suggests less gratifying materials for reflection. It is
an old story, — that of human passions stifled, and therefore
burning but with greater intensity, within the walls of the cloister,
whither the unhappy man or woman has retired, in the hope of
obtaining a peace denied them in the world — that peace whicL
passeth all understanding. But old though this story be, it is ever
full of instruction, ever sure of sy