ELTHAM PALACE,Kent.

. . . The stately walls, with tapestry richly dight,Of theAbbot’sbanquet-hall, where, as on throne,He sat at the high dais, like prince alone,Save when a Royal guest came here,Or papal Legate claimed a chair.Here marble platforms, flight o’er flight,Slow rising through the long-lined view,Showed tables spread at different height,Where each for different rank he knew.And, with pleased glance adown the hall,Saw Bishops in their far-sought palle,The Abbey’s noble Seneschal;Barons and Earls in gold array,And warrior knights in harness gray.There was the Prior’s delegated sway;The grave Archdeacon sat below,And the hundred Monks in row and row,Not robed in dismal sable theyUpon a high and festal day,But all in capes most costly and most gay.There too the Abbey Marshal shone;And there, beside the Abbot’s throne,Chaplain of honour from the Pope alone.”

The battles, of which the immediate vicinity of St. Albans has been the theatre, are familiar to every reader of history.[77]In connection with our immediate subject, however, we may briefly advert to them as melancholy contrasts to that peace and religious tranquillity which were supposed to be the cherished inmates of this magnificent sanctuary.

The first battle. 1455.It was now, says Newcome, when the first battle of St. Albans happened; the causes of which it is unnecessary to relate. Suffice it to say, that the king attended with his nobles, or such as were of his council, and a number of armed troops came down from London; and probably with the view that a treaty with the Duke of York might be carried on with less interruption or danger from the military. The duke was coming from the north; and brought with him 3000 men of that body which he had raised there, and took part in the great field on the east side of the town, called Key-field. The king’s men had barricadoed all the avenues on that side. The cry among the Yorkists was, “Give up the Duke of Somerset;” but no concession of this sort being made, the duke’s men broke into St. Peter’s Street; and being there met by the royalists, a dreadful conflict ensued; where, after many were slain, the king’s party lost courage and fled, leaving their sovereign alone, and standing under his standard. He, perceiving himself thus deserted, walked away into a small house, that of a baker; and here the duke finding him, led him out, and conducted him to the Abbey, where he first placed him close to the shrine, whether for safety and sanctuary, or to induce him to return thanks for his safety. He then conducted him to theroyal apartments, and the next day to London. The effeminacy of the king’s men, and to which is ascribed the loss of the battle, is thus described by our author, who saw both parties, and writes of them thus:—

Quicquid ad Eoos tractusque regni teporesVergitur, emollit animos Clementia Cœli: etOmnis in arctois sanguis quicunque pruinisNascitur, indomitus bellis, et mortis amator.

The duke’s men fell to plundering the town, but, by the commands of the duke, they abstained from doing any injury to the Abbey; but the Abbot

thought it necessary to send out to them great quantities of victuals and wine, and this, together with the protecting hand of the martyr, as my author asserts, preserved the Abbey and church from any injury by spoil and depredation. The slain lay thick in the upper street, and at the division of the ways about the market; and among them were seen the dead bodies of Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset; of Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland; and of Thomas Clifford, Lord Clifford. But because they were persons well known to be hateful to the Duke of York when alive, none ventured to prepare for their funerals, or showed any decent regard to their dead bodies. Whereupon Abbot John addressed the duke, and begged him to spare the vanquished, andsuffer some honours to be paid to the deceased—“Not enemies will I call them,” says he, “but your relations by blood,—your fellow patriots.” And saying more to recommend moderation in his victory, the duke commanded him to take the bodies and provide for their funerals. The Abbot then caused some of the brethren to go forth and take up the deceased. This being done, and the dead bodies received into the church and laid out in decent order, in a few days the funeral obsequies were performed, and the bodies had interment in the chapel of the Blessed Virgin. They were laid in the ground “lineali ordine, juxta statum, gradum, et honorem, dignitatis. Unde de his dominis et de eorum sepulturâ scribitur in ista formâ:”[78]—

Quos Mars, quos Martis sors sæva suæque sororis,Bello prostrarunt, villæ medioque necarunt.Mors sic occisos tumulaverat his simul ipsos,Postque necem requiem causavit habere perhennem,Est medium sine quo vult sic requiescere nemo:Hic lis, hic pugna, mors est quæ terminat arma;Mors, sors, et mavors, qui straverunt dominos hos.

During a period of more than seven centuries, “this Abbey continued to flourish with various improvements, under the government of no less than forty-one Abbots, many of whom enriched it with additional buildings and treasures; so that its extent was in proportion to its immense estates, and more resembled a town than a religious establishment. To its apartments we have already adverted. Here, in 1215, King John, during his opposition to the Barons, ‘held a grand consultation’ in the Chapter-house; here also Louis the Dauphin, who arrived shortly after, exacted a heavy contribution for carrying on the war, in which he had been invited to take part. Henry the Second and Henry the Third were often entertained by the Abbots of St. Albans, and were liberal benefactors to the monastery;” but the eighth Henry, as every reader is aware, pursued the opposite course. Its funds were appropriated to state purposes, its privileges abolished, its inmates dismissed; but the fabric itself, comparatively, suffered little from the violence of the transition.

In a careful perusal of the history of this monastery, the reader will find abundant materials for reflection. The lives of the Abbots, as recorded by a member of their own body, present many instructive anecdotes and examples of the civil and religious government, the state of society, the progress of science, and that encouragement of the arts over which they exercised so direct and beneficial an influence. “Although originally subject to the Diocesan, the Lord Abbot gradually advanced in external splendour till the Abbey-church became a rival to the Cathedral; and this,” as Newcome hasobserved, “went on till, at the Dissolution, the mitred Abbots, who had laboured for pre-eminence, outnumbered the Bishops in the House of Lords, amounting in 1514 to twenty-eight, whilst the Bishops were only eighteen or nineteen.”

There were many other considerations that tended to give the Monks power and consequence; and Abbeys were found to be such beneficial institutions, that they would have stood their ground to the present day, had not their great possessions and revenues tempted indigent courtiers “to combine and plot against them.” “Their utility,” continues the same author, “appeared in these respects, that they exercised great hospitality towards the poor; and this was done at one-tenth of the expense which the poor now (1790) create, by being maintained by a legal provision. The monastery was the house of reception for all the sick, who were here nursed, spiritually consoled, and cured. The monastery generally employed masters to teach the poor children of the neighbourhood; entertained all persons who were ingenious in any art or science, and transcribed books when few understood the art, or could undertake it. There is now extant a chronicle composed and printed at St. Albans, in 1484, under the countenance then given to this particular Abbey by Richard the Third.”

“These old religious houses kept public registers of all great public transactions; and to them we are indebted for all our English historians down to the period of the Dissolution. They were possessed of all the learning that was in any repute at the time prior to the coming of the friars. The monasteries, in general, furnished the men who were fit for embassies abroad, or for offices of trust and distinction at home: and to their honour it is recorded, that all the inferior officers, both in the courts of law and in the civil departments of the Government, who are called clerks, owe this appellation to the religious houses, Abbeys or Cathedrals, from which the first officers were taken. The landed property belonging to these houses at the time of the Dissolution was so great, that it was computed at one-third of the kingdom. Yet, whatever were their temporal possessions, they were always found to be good landlords, ever ready to forward improvements, and accomplishing many great works in draining, enclosing, and planting, which could never have been undertaken by individuals.” “In truth,” adds the historian quoted, “they did more to civilize mankind, and to bring them within the comforts of society, than any set of men of any denomination have ever done. And yet the ungrateful world, that was enjoying the fruits of their labours and their riches, now that it beheld the edifice completed, cast down the builders and the scaffoldings as if no longer useful! In spite of all the calumny thrown out against these monastic institutions, nothing so well proclaims their utility as this—that they maintained themselves in credit and repute, some ofthem a thousand years; and many of them during the space of three hundred, four hundred, and five hundred years; and that, when they were dissolved, Edward the Sixth and his counsellors found it necessary to endow new hospitals, to build new schools, and to provide new relief for the poor and helpless.”

Such is the testimony of a liberal-minded clergyman of the Church of England, who spent a great portion of his leisure in investigating the history of monastic institutions, particularly that of St. Albans. “These religious foundations,” he adds, “fell with such undeserved calumny and slander, that it is but common justice to restore their character, and give them their due praise, wherever that can be done; and if all others were as free from corruption and ill government as the Abbey of St. Albans, it would be seen how unjustly they were accused, and that their overthrow was effected for other reasons than pretended misrule and corruption. But as they had been ever the main pillar and support of the Papal dominion, it was natural and consistent to abolish the members after the Head was rejected. They were bodies so nearly allied to the Papal power, that they must of necessity fall with it; and although a gradual reformation might have been effected in them, yet, in the new plan of church government, they were deemed unnecessary; for the new Head of the

Church and his counsellors wished to have as few subjects in the Church to be governed as might be. Accordingly, by dissolving the regular clergy, and limiting the Church, to the episcopal order of seculars, they rejected above one hundred thousand of the former, and retained about eight thousand of the latter. Whatever was the pretext, the real truth appears to have been this—that their temporal power and wealth tempted their downfall; and in spite of all the good and real merit that was to be found in them, they fell a prey and spoil to an extravagant monarch, and his ‘needy and profligate’ courtiers. In the legislature of those times, there were many great and able men; but whatever cause there may be to charge them with want ofpiety, there is no room to accuse them of any want of worldly wisdom, or of their embracing that self-denial and contempt of the world, which they were so ready to condemn in the monks. They made laws and ordinances to support a new religion, when they could enrich themselves by suppressing theold.” “But,” continues this able writer, “the bright examples of the bishops and clergy who submitted to the flames at that time, will appear more illustrious when it is seen how just and rational was their opposition to the worship then in use, as well as to the doctrine; the first having in it as little of true piety and devotion, as the latter had of reason and revealed truth. It was the blood of those men who could die for the truth, that gave the new Establishment a firm and solid foundation, when neither the will of the Prince nor the laws of his Parliaments could have been able, without that cement, to effect a new construction and edifice.”[79]

The Abbey of St. Albans has the credit of having introduced a printing press soon after the invention of types; and may thus truly be said to have fostered within itself the elements of its own dissolution. One of the first works issued was by the lady prioress of the adjacent nunnery of Sopwell, Dame Juliana Berners, who composed several treatises on hawking, hunting, and heraldry, which were so well received that two editions were printed at St. Albans, between 1481 and 1486.

The local sceneryaround St. Albans is pleasing, occasionally picturesque, and, owing to its including the ancient Verulam, is never without deep interest to all who have a knowledge of ancient history, and a taste for antiquarian research.

The finest point of view is that which was chosen by the artist for the steel engraving, namely—from the south near the walls of the ancient city; the streets of which are still discernible in the green field, by the thin short grass that covers them, and under which the Roman brick yet retains its original bed. A great portion of the ancient substructure, matted with weeds and shaded with trees and brushwood, still invites the curious stranger, and offers him every facility for investigation. But, except the horizontal layers of brick, mortar, and shingle—the brick generally carbonized in the centre—there is nothing left to repay investigation. The soil has been ransacked too effectually by the antiquaries of monastic times to encourage further research; but the situation will please every one who delights in classic associations, while the Abbey, which crowns the adjoining eminence, gives a rich hallowing interest to the whole scene:—

“Whose Norman tower lifts its pinnacled spire:Where the long Abbey-aisle extends,And battled roof o’er roof ascends;Cornered with buttresses shapely and tall,That sheltered the Saint in canopied stall.”

There is no single object, however, after the Abbey, half so attractive as the old church of St. Michael’s, the sacred repository of the great Lord Bacon. It is built within the precincts of the ancient city, and, crowning a gentle undulation of the surface, forms a beautiful feature in the landscape. The interior still preserves its simple antique appearance, and is rich in sepulchral objects. It was founded about the middle of the tenth century, by Abbot Ulsinus; and its massive piers and plain semicircular arches still show unquestionable evidence of the original Saxon architecture. It is kept remarkably neat, and has, what we have rarely observed in other churches, small fire-places in several of the family pews.

But the tomb and statue of Bacon soon arrest the eye, and claim, for a time, the stranger’s undivided attention. The statue we need not describe; it speaks for itself in the beauty of the sculpture, and in the classic elegance of the inscription. But how appropriate are these lines:—

“Unfit to stand the civil storm of state,And through the rude barbarity of courts,With firm but pliant virtue, forward stillTo urge his course; him for the studious shadeKind nature form’d, deep, comprehensive, clear,Exact and elegant; in one rich soul,Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully joined.The great deliverer he! who, from the gloomOf cloister’d monks, and jargon-teaching schools,Led forth the true Philosophy, there longHeld in the magic chain of words and forms.”—Thomson.

Lord Bacon, “the illustrious subject of the following inscription, was the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord-keeper of the great seal under Elizabeth, whowas married to Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony Cooke, a lady of the most profound erudition and brilliant talents. Francis, the illustrious son of such distinguished parents, was born in the year 1560, and even in his infancy gave indications of the most uncommon abilities, united with the greatest and most unwearied assiduity in the pursuit of knowledge and investigation of truth; his cleverness gained him, even in his earliest youth, the admiration of Elizabeth. At Cambridge, where

Francis. Bacon. Baro de Verulam. S. Albans Vicᵐᵉˢ. seu notioribus titulis. scientiarum lumen. facundiæ lex. sic sedebat. qui. postquam omnia naturalis sapientiæ et civilis arcana evolvisset naturæ decretum explevit—‘Composita Solvantur’ Aⁿᵒ. Dⁿⁱ. mdcxxvi. Ætat. lxvi. Tanti Viri Mem. Thomas Meautys Superstitis cultor defuncti admirator.H. P.0[80]

he completed his education, his talents obtained universal applause. While prosecuting his studies at the university, he detected the fallacies of the then customary mode of philosophizing, which at a more mature age he published to the world, and laid down those laws which opened the way to all the brilliant and surprising discoveries of modern days. His university education being completed, he commenced his travels, from which the unexpected death of his father suddenly recalled him; upon which he applied himself to the study of the common law, at Gray’s Inn, and soon elevated himself to the highest dignities of his profession. But his character was not without a blemish—‘humanum est errare;’ and even the illustrious Bacon fell from the giddying height he had so proudly attained. After his disgrace, he applied himself wholly to literary and philosophical pursuits, enriching the world with his discoveries, and enlightening it by his reasonings. His love for philosophy was the immediate cause of his death, of which the following narrative is given by Aubrey, in his MSS., which are now deposited in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford:—

“The cause of his lordship’s death was trying an experiment as he was taking the aire in the coach with Dr. Witherborne, a Scotchman, physitian tothe king, towards Highgate: snow lay upon the ground, and it came into my lord’s thoughts, why flesh might not be preserved in snow, as in salt. They were resolved they would try the experiment presently. They alighted out of the coach, and went into a poor woman’s house at the bottome of Highgate-hill, and bought a hen, and made the woman exenterate it, and then stuffed the body with snow; and my lord did help to do it himself. The snow so chilled him he immediately fell so ill, that he could not return to his lodgings (I suppose then at Gray’s Inn), but went to the Earl of Arundell’s house at Highgate, where they put him into a good bed, warmed with a panne; but it was a damp bed, that had not been lain in for about a yeare before, which gave him such a cold, that in two or three days, as I remember he told me, he died of suffocation.”—Topographical Library, page 113-5.

Sopwell Nunneryis thus described in the History of the Abbey. It was founded by “Abbot Geoffry about 1140, on his observing two poor women dwelling there in a wretched hut of their own constructing, and living a most austere life on bread and water, and in regular devotion to God. Their piety induced him to build a house for their comfortable living; and to bestow on them some possessions. He appointed also a chapel and a church-yard; ordaining that none should be buried there except the nuns; none to be admitted into that house but maidens; and the number not to exceed thirteen.

“Henry de Albini or Albeney, of the house of Todenei, gave to this house two hides of land, with his wife’s consent, in their manor of Cotes, in Beaulieu. His son Robert, and his mother Cicely, gave a rood more, in the same manor. Richard de Tany, or Todenei, gave them the land called Black hides in Ridge parish.

“Abbot Michael, about 1338, ordained certain rules for the regulation of this house, and enjoined a better order and observance than they had before practised. They are as follows: 1. That the commemoration of St. Alban should be kept as usual. 2. That no more than three nuns should sit in the chapter. 3. That silence be observed, as by the rule of St. Benedict, in the church or chapel, in the cloister, in the refectory, and the dormitory. 4. That a little bell do ring in the morning, as notice to rise and appear; and that none leave the dormitory before the bell rings. 5. That the garden door be not opened (for walking) before the hour of prime, or first hour of devotion; and in summer, that the garden and the parlour doors be not opened until the hour of none (nine) in the morning; and to be always shut when the corfue rings. 6. That no sister hold conversation in the parlour without her cowl on, and her face covered with her veil. 7. That tailors, or other artists, be persons of good character, but to work in some place assigned them without the monastery; and never to be admitted into chambers or other private places.8. That if any sister be under a sentence of penance, this shall not exclude her from the duties of the church. 9. The sick to be kept in the infirmary. 10. No nun to lodge out of the house; and no guest within it. 11. All the sisters to be present at the mass of our Lady.”—History of St. Albans, page 468.

Returning from the ruins of Sopwell, we take a parting view of the great west entrance to the Abbey Church, the principal features of which we have already noticed, page 94. The ground in front of the porch is entirely occupied as a public cemetery; but none of its sepulchral antiquities are of a character to demand particular notice as works of art.

The ceremony represented in the woodcut is the “distribution of alms,” which usually took place at the church door, on particular festivals, when “give-ale” and the “dole” drew together the neighbouring poor. The “give-ale,” so called, was distributed on anniversaries, often with bread and other dole, to the poor, for which purpose land had been left to the church by the person whose birth-day, saint’s-day, or burial-day, was to be commemorated. Anniversaries were sometimes kept on the birth-day of a donor, during his life-time, or on the saint’s-day of the church where it was appointed. The doles of money and bread were distributed at some altar in the church, or at the tomb of a deceased benefactor. The “give-ale,” being chiefly allotted to great festivals, was usually distributed in the church-porch, where the people assembled, and where they sometimes remained wassailing in the church-yard till it became a scene of merriment and tumult. Some of these anniversaries, as it is wellknown, gave rise to Fairs, which were once most improperly held in churchyards.—Gaston de Blondeville, vol. iv. p. 68.

In the preceding notice of St. Albans, the narrow limits assigned to this work has made it necessary to confine our sketches and observations to the more striking features of the Abbey and its vicinity. Where the materials are so abundant and inviting, and where only a few characteristic portions can be admitted, their selection must be always attended with more or less difficulty; but in the present instance, it is hoped, the order of subjects has been so arranged as to present the reader with a faithful picture of the Abbey as it now is, and such as, with the vast improvements in contemplation, it may continue to be for ages to come. For the lives and acts of its “forty abbots and one,” we must refer our readers to the chronicles of the Abbey, and the other sources of information hereunto annexed.

“Now closes the scene; and here,” in the words of the historian, “may we behold fallen and set for ever the glory and splendour of this and all other of those religious corporations, which, with most pious intentions in the founders, with general good conduct in the rulers, with most grateful acceptance in the sober and virtuous of all ranks, had provided for the wants and necessities of men; and the revenues, which had cheered the hearts of the naked and hungry, now turned out of the channel of hospitality and beneficence, to be dissipated and wasted in the voluptuous pleasures and base gratifications of the court and its followers.”

“Here fortyabbotshave ruled and one,Twenty with palle and mitre on,And bowed them to the Pope alone.Their hundred monks, in black arrayed,The Benedictine rules obeyed;O’er distant lands they held their sway;Freed from Peter’s-pence were they;The gift of palle from Pope they claimed,And cardinal-abbots were they named;And even old Canterbury’s lordWas long refused the premier board;For this was the first British martyr’s bier,And the Pope said ‘His priest shall have no peer.’Now know yeSt. Alban’sbones rest here!Kings and heroes here were guestsIn stately halls, at solemn feasts.But now, nor dais nor halls remain;Nor fretted window’s gorgeous paneTwilight illuminated throws,Where once the high-served banquet rose.”—Anne Radcliffe.

Appendix.[81]—1. The present roof of the Abbey was erected at the expense of Abbot Whethamstead, after the original, which is said to have been of stone, had been blown down in a tempest. The “Wallingford Screen” was built, in 1480, by the Abbot of that name, at an expense of eleven hundred marks. It reaches from the ground to the eastern window, and for beauty and magnitude is said to surpass everything else of the kind in Europe. It was adorned, in the palmy days of the Abbey, with “a profusion of gold and silver ornaments;” but in its present condition, stripped of all such glittering ornaments, and its elegant simplicity so much more apparent, it is thus “unadorned, adorned the most.”

2. The Abbey Church of St. Albans was “chiefly erected by Paul, the first Norman Abbot, early in the reign of William Rufus, at which period theedifice erected by Offa had become extremely ruinous. The Norman architecture is consequently preserved in the greater part of the building, particularly in the choir, nave, transepts, and great tower; but a very considerable portion has been rebuilt in the various styles of the times when repairs became necessary, the particulars of which may be seen in the lives of the different Abbots. For the purposes of repair, the materials were chiefly furnished by the ruins of Verulam; among which was a profusion of Roman brick.”—Archt. of St. Albans.

3. We are aware of the difference of opinion which once subsisted among writers as to the true era and character of the round and pointed arches which distinguish the Abbey Church. But the round arches which were formerly considered Norman, have been lately, we understand, pronounced Saxon by a distinguished architect, who has bestowed great pains in the investigation; and has at last, it is to be hoped, settled the question

“And proved, when Mercian Offa was anointed,Arches were broad and round—not lancet-pointed.”

4. P. 87.—The epitaph on the two hermits, Roger and Sigarius, states, that thinking themselves unworthy to rest within the church, they chose a resting-place in the wall below. Legendary inscriptions on the clustered pillars are still dimly visible through the modern whitewash.

ARMS OF ST. ALBANS.

5. This Abbey Church, venerable alike for its antiquity, and admirable for its design and workmanship, “possesses all the magnitude and dignity of the largest Cathedral. It is cruciform, measures from east to west, including the Lady Chapel, six hundred and six feet in length; the extreme breadth, at the intersection of the transepts, is two hundred and seventeen feet. The height of the body is sixty-five feet, and that of the tower is one hundred and forty-four feet.”

Authorities:—M. Paris.—Grafton.—Harding.—Holinshed.—Speed.—Camden.—Archæologia.—Newcome.—Clutterbuck.—Topography of Great Britain.—Guide to St. Albans Abbey.—St. Augustine.—Radcliffe’s St. Albans Abbey.—Holcroft’s Margaret of Anjou.—Memoir of Lord Bacon.—Blome’s Britannia.—Weever.—Willis.—Tyrrell.—Burnet.—Dugdale.—Visit to St. Albans, January 1842, MS. Notes by an Artist, MS.The Society of Antiquaries has published very splendid illustrative plans, elevations, and sections of the Abbey Church of St. Albans.

The Society of Antiquaries has published very splendid illustrative plans, elevations, and sections of the Abbey Church of St. Albans.

HALL OF ELTHAM PALACE.A.D. 1365.LONDON. GEORGE VIRTUE.

HALL OF ELTHAM PALACE.

A.D. 1365.

LONDON. GEORGE VIRTUE.

INTERIOR OF ELTHAM HALL.MDCCCXLII.

INTERIOR OF ELTHAM HALL.

MDCCCXLII.

Qui, dans ces temps affreux de discorde et d’alarmesVit les grands coups de lance et les nobles faits d’armesDe nos preux chevaliers, des “Bayards,” des Henris;Aujourd’hui la moisson flotte sur ses débris!Ces débris, cette triste et mâle architectureQu’environné une fraiche et riante verdure.

THE royal palace of Eltham is a subject which has often engaged the historian’s pen and the pencil of the artist; and, as intimately associated with many national events, it possesses an interest to which neither the lapse of time nor its own decay can ever render us indifferent. A visit to the “oldHall of Eltham,” forms one of those incidents in life to which we look back with as much pleasure as the pilgrim was wont to do after he had paid his devotions at the “shrine of our Lady of Walsingham.” Every feature in this primitive abode of kings, this favourite resort of our native princes, arrests attention, and carries us back into the days of chivalry and romance. While sauntering through its deserted, and, as we may truly say, its desecrated court, imagination delights to expatiate among those recorded scenes of court festivity, military fêtes, and national solemnities, of which it has so often been the scene. The very echoes which, if at all disturbed, now only reply to the thresher’s song or the lowing of cattle, were once roused into loud and long-continued reverberations by the plaudits of knights within, and popular acclamations from without. In the twilight, the dim figures of its long line of possessors seem to flit before our eyes; while the mind is busily occupied in filling up the picture, from the days of Edward the Confessor down to those of James the First:

“Again, again, along the wizard’s glass,In waving plumes they reappear and pass.”

It is gratifying to think that, whilst the plough may be said to have passed over many of our classic and historical sites, the Hall of Eltham is still spared. The ground on which it stands is sacred in the eyes of every patriot: it is an interesting field of study for the artist and antiquary; and in beauty of situation challenges the admiration of the most ordinary observer. Its position on a gently elevated surface, commanding a fine view in nearly every direction, surrounded by an extensive chase, and in the immediate vicinity of the capital, made Eltham highly eligible as an occasional residence for the sovereign. But the surrounding country has undergone so many alterations, Eltham itself is so shrunk, dilapidated, and “curtailed of its fair proportions,” that it is impossible to form a just estimate of what it must have been during the feudal period; adorned, as it undoubtedly was, with all the embellishments of art, inhabited by kings, with “kings for their guests,” and frequented by the élite of English beauty and chivalry.

Enough remains, however, to fill a long summer day with agreeable amusement and profitable entertainment; and to those who take pleasure in contemplating such monuments of the regal sway in England, the old palace of Eltham has attractions peculiarly its own.

Nearly all the writers who have given their attention to the topography of Eltham and its vicinity, complain of the great want of authentic records, for the satisfactory elucidation of its early history. This is a subject of much regret; obscurity is intimately connected with the origin of the place; the documents which we possess consist chiefly of those casual notices embodiedin the old Chronicles, where the subject is of only secondary consideration, and often merely alluded to by way of illustration. During the last twenty years, particularly since the discoveries of some subterranean passages within the walls, Eltham has been a subject of frequent description in the periodicals[82]of the day; and that frequency is a proof how much it has attracted, and still continues to attract, the public attention.

In the well-known county histories of Kent, as well as in all the topographical works which we have seen, the description of Eltham is given in nearly the same words, each successive writer contenting himself with what he has read, rather than what he had personally observed in the venerable ruin itself. We are far from presuming to do much more than our predecessors in the same walk; but, as the objects of our study and research are chiefly to ascertain and retail what has beendone, rather than what is to be seen at Eltham, we shall, as usual, willingly avail ourselves of the old chronicles as our principal authorities, and, avoiding mere technical description, endeavour to bring the subject home to the mind and eye of the reader. But whilst to a certain class of readers we can only address the following well-known lines—

“Oisifs de nos cités, dont la mollesse extrêmeNe veut que ces plaisirs où l’on fuit soi-même,Qui craignez de sentir, d’éveiller vos langueurs,Ces tableaux éloquents sont muets pour vous”—

to another, a more congenial fraternity, we can speak with confidence, and calculate on their sympathy and support:

“Mais toi, qui des beaux-arts sens les flammes divines,Ton âme entend la voix des cercueils, des ruines;De la destruction recherchant les travaux,Des états écroulés tu fouilles les tombeaux.Tu lis, le cœur saisi d’un agréable effroi,La marche de ce temps qui roule aussi sur toi;Quel livre à ton génie offrent de tels décombres!”

Eltham, anciently written Ealdham and Aletham, carries a proof of its antiquity in the very name, which is a compound of two Saxon words signifying the old home, town, or dwelling; “heim,” being still the modern German word used to express the same meaning, and, with some characteristic prefix,is frequent in Saxon topography. But this is so well known as scarcely to require a passing remark. Bounded by Greenwich, Woolwich, Plumsted, and Kidbrook on the north; by Bexley on the east; Chiselhurst and Mottingham on the south, and the picturesque village of Lee on the west, Eltham enjoys most of the advantages that result from a position in the centre of a rich cultivated neighbourhood.

The manor of Eltham is said to have existed as a royal demesne in the time of Edward the Confessor; to have been given by William the Conqueror to one of his family, Odo Earl of Kent, and Bishop of Bayeux,[83]after whose disgrace and banishment, it reverted partly to the crown and partly to the Norman family of Mandeville, from whom it took the name of Eltham-Mandeville. That portion which fell to the crown was, according to Dugdale, given by Edward the First to John de Vesci, who was related to queen Eleanor by his marriage with Isabel de Beaumont, and afterwards, by an exchange of other lands with Walter de Mandeville, became sole proprietor of the manor. We shall not, however, detain our readers by tracing the descent with genealogical minuteness. From the Vesci family it passed into that of de Ayton—thence to Scroop of Masham; who afterwards presented it to queen Isabel in 1318, or probably a year later. About the middle of the following century, it was granted to Robert Dauson for seven years; and in the beginning of his reign, Henry the Eighth bestowed it successively upon Sir Henry Guildford, Comptroller of the Household, and Sir Thomas Speke. By Edward the Sixth it was grantedto Sir John Gates, lieutenant of the Tower, who was afterwards executed for high-treason; and down to the close of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, it was successively held of the crown by William Cromer and Lord Cobham. On the accession of King Charles the First, it was held in lease by the Earl of Dorset; but in the time of the Commonwealth, Eltham manor was seized by the Parliament, and, along with the manor-house then called Eltham Place, and great part of the demesne lands, was valued and sold to Nathaniel Rich of Fulham. At the restoration a renewal of the lease was obtained on purchase, by Sir John Shaw.—For these brief particulars we are indebted to an “Account of Eltham,” printed about fifty years ago, and drawn up from standard authorities on the subject.

We shall next advert to the historical incidents which connect Eltham Palace with the record of public transactions, while it was the residence of successive monarchs, and the resort of all who were most distinguished in the court history of their day; and then conclude with a brief account of it as it now appears, with all its “venerable scars and chronicled events” clustered together under the roof of its ancient Hall.

During the reign of the early monarchs, and more particularly during that of Henry the Third, Edward the First, and Richard the Second, Eltham appears to have been thelocalechosen for the celebration of those court pageantries, and gorgeous festivals of the church, which softened the sterner features of the age, smoothed asperities, and brought the serf into friendly communion with his suzerain. In 1270, Henry the Third and his queen, attended by all the chief men of the state, kept open court at Eltham during the Christmas holidays, making merry with their attendant lords and ladies, and dispensing much generous hospitality to strangers.

Anthony Beck, Bishop of Durham and Patriarch of Jerusalem, who died at Eltham in 1311, is said to have expended great treasure on the fresh “edification and adornment” of the palace. He “builded,” says Stow, “the manor house, and gave it to the queen;” but this, as appears from “the statement given in the descent of the manor,” it was not in his power to have done. “Beck,” says the author of a paper on this subject, already quoted,[84]was a trustee under the will of William de Vesci; and the only way in which the fact can be reconciled is, by supposing him to have betrayed his trust, and to have obtained fraudulent possession of the estate.” “This prelate,” says Mr. Hutchinson, in his History of Durham, “merits notice for the singularity of his character; he led the van of Edward the First’s army gallantly against the Scots, at the battle of Falkirk, and dared even to make a harsh retort to areproof from that stern monarch. At Rome, he opposed single-handed a body of ruffians who had entered his house. So active was his mind, that he always rose when his first sleep was over, saying ‘It was beneath a man to turn in his bed.’ He was so modest, that although he smiled at the frown of a king, he never could lift his eyes to the face of a woman; and when the remains of Saint William were to be removed to York, he was the only prelate whose ‘conscious chastity’ permitted him to touch the sacred bones. And yet this mirror of purity could defraud the natural son of his friend, the Lord Vesci, of a large estate which had been trusted to the Bishop’s honour.[85]Beck loved military parade and had always knights and soldiers about him, and through vanity was prompted to spend immense sums. For forty fresh herrings he once gave a sum equal to forty pounds sterling; and a piece of cloth, which had proverbially been said to be ‘too dear for the Bishop of Durham,’ he bought and cut out into horse-cloths. To conclude—this haughty prelate once seized a palfrey of King Edward as a deodand; and at last broke his heart at being excommunicated by the Archbishop of York.”

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