CHAPTER IV

THE ROYAL HOUSES OF SOUTH LONDON

All round London, like beads upon a string, were dotted Royal Houses,

Palaces, and Hunting Places. On the north side were Westminster,

Whitehall, St. James's, Kensington, Shene, Theobald's, Hatfield,

Cheshunt, King's Langley, Hunsdon, Havering-atte-Bower, Stepney, the

Tower; on the south side were Kennington, Eltham, Greenwich, Kew,

Hampton, Windsor, a tradition attaching to Streatham, and the House of

Nonesuch, built by Henry VIII. at Cheam. Most of these royal houses are

now clean forgotten. Eltham preserves some ruins left of Edward IV.'s

buildings; it still shows the moat and the old bridge, and the line of

its former wall; but tradition, which has quite forgotten its memories

of the Edwards and the Tudors, describes it as the Palace of King John.

The sailors--now, alas! also gone--have deprived Greenwich of Edward VI.

and Elizabeth. Theobald's is gone altogether, Nonesuch is wholly cleared

away. Of Kennington, of which I have to speak in this place, not one

stone remains upon another; not a vestige is above ground; the people on

the spot know of no remains underground; its very memory is gone and

forgotten: there is not even a tradition left, although part of the

ruins were still standing only a hundred years ago.

The reason for this oblivion is not far to seek. The palace was

deserted; it was pulled down before 1607--Camden says that even then

there was not a stone remaining--there was not a single house within

half a mile in every direction. There was no one, when the last stones

had been carted away, left to remember or to remind his children that

there had been a palace on this spot. Another house was built here, but

no tradition attached to it. Two hundred years passed, and then came the

destruction of the second house; in 1745 there was not even a cottage

near the spot. This being so, it is not difficult to understand why the

site was forgotten.

[Illustration: THE LONG BARN]

The moat remained, however, and apparently some of the substructures; a

building of stone and thatch, part of the offices of the palace, also

stood. They called it the 'Long Barn,' and when the distressed

Protestants were brought over here in 1700 as many as the place would

hold were crammed into the Long Barn. Market gardens lay all over the

country between Kennington Road and Lambeth, and on the site of the

palace there was not a single person left who could carry on the

tradition of the king's house that once stood here. Roque, the map-maker

of 1745, knew nothing about it. In 1795 the Long Barn was taken down. At

the beginning of the century houses began to rise here and there;

streets began to be formed: at least three streets cross the gardens and

the site of the palace; but there is not one tradition of a place which,

as we shall see, was full of history for six hundred years. 'Is this

fame?' might ask the king who crowned himself here, the king who died

here, the king who was brought up here, the kings who kept their

Christmas feast here, the kings who here received their brides, held

Parliament, and went out a-hunting.

The king who crowned himself here was Harold Harefoot, son of Cnut--that

is to say, it was at 'Lambeth,' and there was no other house at Lambeth.

[Illustration: SKETCH MAP]

The king who died in this house was that young Dane who appears to have

been an incarnation of the ideal Danish brutality. He dragged his

brother's body out of its grave and flung it into the Thames; he

massacred the people of Worcester and ravaged the shire; and he did

these brave deeds and many others all in two short years. Then he went

to his own place. His departure was both fitting and dramatic. For one

so young it showed with what a yearning and madness he had been

drinking. He went across the river--there was, I repeat, no other house

in Lambeth except this, so that it must have been here--to attend the

wedding of his standard-bearer, Tostig the Proud, with Goda, daughter of

the Thane Osgod Clapa, whose name survives in his former estate of

Clapham. A Danish wedding was always an occasion for hard drinking,

while the minstrels played and sang and the mummers tumbled. When men

were well drunken the pleasing sport of bone throwing began: they threw

the beef bones at each other. The fun of the game consisted in the

accident of a man not being able to dodge the bone which struck him, and

probably killed him. Archbishop Alphege was thus killed. The soldiers

had no special desire to kill the old man: why couldn't he enter into

the spirit of the game and dodge the bones? As he did not, of course he

was hit, and as the bone was a big and a heavy bone, hurled by a

powerful hand, of course it split open his skull. One may be permitted

to think that perhaps King Hardacnut, who is said to have fallen down

suddenly when he 'stood up to drink,' did actually intercept a big beef

bone which knocked him down; and as he remained comatose until he died,

the proud Tostig, unwilling to have it said that even in sport his king

had been killed at his wedding, gave out that the king fell down in a

fit. This, however, is speculation.

Forty years after this event, when Domesday Book was compiled, the place

was in the possession of a London citizen, Theodric by name and a

goldsmith by trade. It was still a royal manor, because the goldsmith

held it of Edward the Confessor. It was then valued at three pounds a

year. It is impossible to arrive at the meaning of this valuation. We

may compare it with that of other estates, with the rental and price of

other lands, with the cost of provisions, and with the wages and pay of

servants and officers; and when we have done all, we are still very far

from understanding the value of money then or at any subsequent time.

There are, you see, so many points which the writers on the value of

money do not take into consideration. There is the price of bread; but

then there were so many kinds of bread--wheaten bread, barley bread, oat

bread, rye bread; and how much bread did a family of the working class

consume? Flesh, fish, fowl, but how much of either did the working

classes enjoy? Rent? But on the farms the "villains" paid no rent.

There is, in a word, not only the market prices that have to be

considered, but the standard of comfort--always a little higher than the

practice--and the daily relations of the demand to the supply. So that

when we read that this manor of Kennington was worth three pounds a year

we are not advanced in the least. As most of the land was still marshy

and useless, we may understand that the value was low.

We next hear of Kennington in 1189, when King Richard granted it on

lease, or for life, to Sir Robert Percy with the title of Lord of the

Manor. Henry III. came here on several occasions; here he held his

Lambeth Parliament. He kept his Christmas here in 1231. Great was the

feasting and boundless the hospitality of this Christmas, at which this

king lavished the treasures of the State.

The site of the palace is indicated in the accompanying map. If you walk

along the Kennington Road from Bridge Street, Westminster, you presently

come to a place where four roads meet, Upper Kennington Lane on the

left, and Lower Kennington Lane on the right; the road goes on to the

Horns Tavern and Kennington Park. On the right-hand side stood the

palace. In the year 1636 a plan of the house and grounds was executed;

but by that time the mediæval character of the place was quite

forgotten. It was a square house, probably Elizabethan; the home of King

Henry III. at some time or other had been completely taken away. The

site of the moat, however, was left, and there was still standing the

'Long Barn.' The only way to find out what the palace really was in the

thirteenth or fourteenth century is to compare it with another palace

built under much the same conditions, and intended to serve the same

purpose. Fortunately there still stand, some miles to the east of

Kennington, at Eltham, important remains of such a contemporary palace,

with a description of the place as it was before it was allowed to fall

into ruins.

We are not at this moment concerned with the history of Eltham.

Sufficient to note that it was a great and stately place for five

hundred years and more; that it passed through the hands of Bishop Odo;

of the Mandevilles; of the De Vescis; of Bishop Anthony Bec; and of

Geoffrey le Scrope of Masham. As a royal residence its history begins

with Henry III., who kept his Christmas here in 1270, and ends with

Elizabeth, who came over here occasionally from Greenwich. Here

Isabella, wife of Edward II., gave birth to a son, John of Eltham. The

greatest builder at Eltham was Edward IV.

The house in 1649, fifty years after Elizabeth had visited it, is said

to have contained a chapel, a banqueting-hall, rooms on the ground floor

and first floor called the King's side and the Queen's side. There were

buildings and rooms of all kinds round the courtyard. The number of

chambers in all was very great, and it is said, further, that the large

courtyard covered a whole acre in extent. Such an area would give about

two hundred and ten feet to each side of a square. This would be large

for a college at Oxford or Cambridge. It would cover about the same area

as that of New Palace Yard. There were, however, other courts; four

courts in all are spoken of. The lesser courts were used for the

'service,' the kitchens, butteries, pantries, stables, rooms for the

servants, the barracks for the men-at-arms who accompanied the king, the

grooms, armourers, makers and menders, bakers and brewers, cooks and

scullions, and the women servants, and the wives and the children. A

strong stone wall, battlemented, with loopholed turrets, surrounded the

palace; a broad and deep moat defended the wall; the bridge which

crossed the moat had a drawbridge; the gate had its portcullis. The

palace, in a word, was a fortress, for there was never a king in England

who would have dared to keep his court, or to sleep, in an unfortified

manor house, or outside a fortress--certainly not Henry III. or Edward

IV.--unless, of course, it was on the tented field in the midst of his

army.

The existing remains of the palace correspond to this description. There

is the moat, deep and broad; there is the bridge, the drawbridge gone.

Within, the most important ruin is that of Edward IV.'s banqueting hall.

This is a most noble chamber, with a roof of oak as perfect as when it

was built; the two magnificent bays remain, with the double row of

windows. It would be difficult to find a finer banqueting hall in the

whole country than that of Eltham. In the grounds, the traces of the

wall and those of other buildings ought to make it possible, with a very

little excavation, to trace a plan of the whole house.

[Illustration: Gateway in the Hall, Eltham Palace]

As was Eltham, so was Kennington. Both places were built for the same

purpose about the same time. Both were castles erected on a plain

without the aid of hillock, mound or running stream--unless the moat at

Kennington was fed by one of the many streams of South London. The plan

of 1636 shows approximately the line of the wall; the stream or the

ditch marks the course of the moat; the 'Long Barn' on the east side of

the palace belonged to the 'service'--it was kitchens, stables, armoury,

brewery, or granary. The house itself had its principal entrance on the

north. This is certain, because all the supplies were brought by what

is now Kennington Road either from Westminster Ferry or from Southwark.

A gate on this side simplified the transference which took place when

the court moved from one place to another; when everything--bedding,

blankets, utensils of all kinds, plate, _batterie de cuisine_, the

workmen with their tools, the wardrobe of king and queen--was packed up

and carried from Westminster over the ferry to Kennington, or from

Kennington to Woolwich. Provisions and goods sent up from the City were

also landed at Stangate, Lambeth, so as to get as short a land journey

as possible. For these reasons I place the principal gate at the north.

I have seen it stated--I know not with what truth--that the people of

the streets now on the site have found substructures beneath their

houses. If so, one would expect, what one cannot find, some tradition to

account for the existence of these stone vaults.

Such was the vanished Palace of Kennington: a fortress of the Lambeth

Marsh, a place for keeping Christmas, a royal residence; now completely

vanished.

Two other royal houses there were in South London, neither of which can

be compared with Kennington. Greenwich, for instance, which appears in

history from the time of King Alfred. Edward I., Henry IV., Henry V.,

Edward IV., Henry VII., Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Elizabeth--all had

more or less to do with Greenwich. When Henry VIII. completed his

buildings here he deserted Eltham; he left, that is, the mediæval

fortress for the modern house. His Greenwich was not fortified. The

accompanying view of it shows that it possessed none of the

characteristics of the ancient residence, half castle, half manor house.

Greenwich, however, before Henry rebuilt it, was a fortified castle. Had

we a plan of Greenwich of the fourteenth century it would most certainly

resemble those of Eltham and of Kennington, with certain small

differences, just as one Benedictine monastery resembles in its general

disposition another Benedictine monastery, and one Norman castle in

general terms, and allowing for the site, resembles another.

The other house of which I have spoken is that of Nonesuch. This house

was not a reconstruction and an adaptation with much of the ancient

work: it was newly built and furnished entirely by Henry VIII. There was

no suspicion of battlements, no pretence at a fortification; the house

stood open and unprotected save by the order maintained by the strong

king. It was not beautiful according to our ideas; nor was it what we

now call a Tudor house; it bears upon it every mark of the builder's

interference with the architect. The outside walls of Nonesuch were

decorated by certain bas-reliefs representing subjects from the heathen

mythology. The house was pulled down by the Duchess of Cleveland, to

whom Charles II. gave it. Nonesuch, however, has nothing to do with

Kennington, and must not detain us.

[Illustration: The Ancient Royal Palace at Greenwich]

Let us next consider what it means when the king is said to have kept

his Christmas at a place.

During the festival--for twenty days--he kept open house, nominally.

That is to say, all comers received food and drink: his guests, one

supposes, were bidden. Every day during the festival the king sat at the

feast wearing his crown and his robes of royal state. Richard II., the

most prodigal of all princes that ever lived, entertained every day no

fewer than ten thousand persons at his palace. What the number was at

Christmas no one knows. In addition to the ordinary following of the

court--a huge army of chaplains, canons, scribes, secretaries, gentlemen

archers, and servants--there were the bishops and abbots, the peers and

barons, who came to the Christmas feast, each attended by his own

following of knights and esquires and men in livery. For the

entertainment of this enormous company what a huge establishment would

be needed! The organisation was complete; everything was in departments,

each under the yeomen: the chambers, the wardrobe, the kitchens, the

stables, the cellars. Yet what an army in each department! Then, since

at Christmas time we look for amusement, there was the Master of the

Revels, and with him an extensive and variegated following; among them

were all those who played on the different instruments of music, those

who sang, the buffoons, tumblers, and mummers, the dancing girls. It was

in the time of Henry III. that these performances were brought over for

the delectation of the English court--perhaps with the pious intention

of showing what joys and attractions awaited the Crusaders in the Holy

Land itself.

Hall's account of the festivities of a Christmas a hundred and fifty

years later than the time of Richard II. is as follows:--

'The Kyng this yere kept the feast of Christmas at Grenewiche, wher was

suche abundance of viands served to all comers of any honest behaviour,

as hath been few times seen; and against New Yeres night was made, in

the Hall, a castle, gates, towers, and dungion, garnished with

artilerie, and weapon after the most warlike fashion: and on the frount

of the castle was written, Le Fortresse Dangerus, and within the castle

were six ladies clothed in russet satin laide all over with leves of

golde, and every owde knit with laces of blewe silke and golde; on ther

heddes, coyfes and cappes all of golde. After this castle had been

carried about the hal, and the Quene had behelde it, in came the Kyng

with five other appareled in coates, the one half of russet satyn,

spangled with spangles of fine golde, the other halfe riche cloth of

gold; on their heddes cappes of russet satin embroudered with workes of

fine gold bullion. These six assaulted the castle: the ladies seyng them

so lustie and coragious were content to solace with them, and upon

farther communication to yeld the castle, and so thei came down and

daunced a long space. And after the ladies led the knightes into the

castle, and then the castle sodainly vanished out of their sight.

'On the daie of the Epiphanie at night, the Kyng with XI other were

disguised after the manner of Italie, called a maske, a thing not seen

afore in Englande; they were apparelled in garments long and brode,

wrought all with gold, with visers and cappes of gold; and after the

banket doen, these maskers came in with six gentlemen disguised in

silke, bearing staffe torches, and desired the ladies to daunce; some

were content, and some that knew the fashion of it refused, because it

was not a thing commonly seen. And after they daunced and commoned

together as the fashion of the maske is, thei tooke their leave and

departed. And so did the Quene and all the ladies.'

When the Christmas festivities ceased, the servants packed up the gear:

the napery, plate, gold and silver cups, dishes, pillows, curtains,

tapestry and carpets. They were all laid upon waggons, the broad-wheeled

creaking waggons which were dragged slowly over the uneven and heavy

lanes by teams of horses or by bullocks. The queen and her ladies were

carried in chairs or carriages, or went on horseback; the king and his

followers rode; and so they went back to Westminster. The ferry carried

over the heavy goods and the horses: the royal barges received the

court. After them marched the whole rout--the two thousand archers

without whom Richard never moved; the armies of servants; lastly, when

the last procurable cup had been drained, the musicians and the mummers

and the singers marched off sadly. A whole twelvemonth before another

Christmas! They marched in the direction of the City, and that night, as

they report, there was strange revelry in the inns of Southwark. The

house was left in charge of a warden, who had with him the principal

officers of the palace, the yeomen of the wardrobe, of the cellars, of

the kitchens, and so forth; the organisation being kept up in readiness,

though the king might not come back for years. This fact was illustrated

a short time ago, when I was interested in watching the progress of a

certain genealogy. About the year 1540 a certain younger son left his

house; it was necessary to connect him with his own descendants. The

link was found in the fact that this younger son had been received by

Carey, warden of Hunsdon House, who made him one of his yeomen; a

cheerless appointment, like a college in perpetual vacation, the warden

and yeomen, representing the Master and Fellows, dining every day in the

dismantled hall, and wandering about the empty courts and silent

gardens. Palaces, like theatres, have their times of emptiness, during

which it is best to keep out of them. For my own part, I think the true

way of enjoying a palace is to frequent it as Froissart did: to hear all

that was said and to put down all that was done, but not to be an actor

in a drama which reeks of blood; not even the splendid mounting can

destroy that dreadful reek. How many people are murdered about the court

of England from Richard II. to Henry VII.? Richard murders his uncle,

Henry IV. murders his cousin, Henry V. murders his uncle; Henry VI., it

is true, murders no one, but then he lives in a time when there is a

perpetual series of murders. What an awful time! Froissart, who looked

on at part of the drama, achieved deathless renown for his history,

while in the whole of that court there was no one whose head was safe on

his shoulders except Froissart. Unfortunately, he says little about this

palace which we are considering.

There are many names of kings and princes connected with this house of

Kennington. Edward I. was here occasionally. During his reign it was the

residence of John Earl of Surrey, and of his son, John Plantagenet Earl

of Warren and Surrey. Plenty of histories could be made out of these and

other names, had the writer time or the reader patience. In truth, the

reader's patience is more to be considered than the writer's time, for

the writer, at least, has the joy of hunting up names and notes and

allusions, and of piecing together what, after all, his reader may not

find of interest enough to carry him through. Edward III. made the manor

part of the Duchy of Cornwall. After the death of the Black Prince the

princess lived here with the young Prince Richard. I do not find that

Henry IV. was fond of a house which would certainly be haunted--especially

the room in which he was to sleep--by the sorrowful shade of his

murdered cousin. Nor did Henry V. come here during his short reign.

Henry VI., however, made use of Kennington Palace; so did Henry VII.;

and the last of the queens whose name can be connected with the palace

was Catherine of Arragon.

I do not know when the palace was destroyed. You have seen the place as

it was figured in 1636, when it was only an ordinary square house. The

plan was drawn when Charles I. leased it to Sir Francis Cottington. The

destruction of the old house and the building of the new must have taken

place during the hundred years between 1530 and 1630. When the new house

was taken down I do not know.

The name that we especially associate with Kennington Palace is that of

Richard II. When the Black Prince died, in 1376, Richard remained at

Kennington under the care of his mother and the tutorship of Sir

Guiscard d'Angle, 'that accomplished knight.' The young prince started

with the finest possible chances of popularity. His father was not only

the greatest captain of his age, but he was also, in the latter years of

his life, on the popular side against the old King and his supporters;

the boy was endowed with a singular beauty of person, and, when he

pleased, with a sweetness of manner most unusual even among princes,

with whom affability is the first essential in princely manners. In

addition to this he was destined to show on two occasions courage which

almost amounted to insensibility--first, when he dispersed Wat Tyler's

mob, and next, when he seized the reins of government. History shows how

he threw away all his chances in reckless extravagance.

[Illustration: SEAL OF THE BLACK PRINCE

(_From Allen's History of Lambeth_)]

After the death of the Black Prince it was resolved by the Lord Mayor to

pay a visit to Prince Richard at Kennington, with a riding worthy of the

City. The day chosen was the Sunday before Candlemas (February 2). One

has frequent occasion to remark generally upon City pageants, that the

people in these processions and their pageants were entirely regardless

of winter cold or summer heat; they rode forth upon a pageant as

cheerfully in the cold of February as in the sunshine of August. On this

occasion, one hundred and thirty-two citizens on horseback, with

trumpets and other musical instruments, and a vast number of

_flambeaux_, assembled at Newgate in the afternoon, and marched through

the City and over the bridge to Kennington Palace beyond the Borough.

First rode eight-and-forty men in the habits of esquires--with red

coats, say gowns, and vizards. Then followed the same number apparelled

as knights in the same livery. Then rode one singly, a very majestic

figure, who represented the Pope, followed by his four-and-twenty

cardinals. They were followed by ten men dressed in black, with black

vizards, representing legates from the Pope of Hell. This accounts for

one hundred and thirty-two out of the whole number. The last man is not

described. To them must be added pages and henchmen and whifflers, with

men carrying the presents. This cavalcade, which gave the greatest joy

to the citizens, all the way was followed by an enormous company of

'prentices and craftsmen and children, crowding after it and shouting.

When it arrived at Kennington Palace they all dismounted and entered the

hall, where they found the Princess of Wales, the young Prince, and

their attendants, together with the Duke of Lancaster and other great

lords. The court was first solemnly saluted by the masquers, who then

produced dice and invited the Prince to play with them. Would you

believe it?--every time the Prince threw, he won, which was in itself a

remarkable circumstance. He carried off his winnings: a bowl of pure

gold, chased and decorated; a drinking cup also of gold, and a gold

ring. They then invited the Princess and the Duke of Lancaster and

other nobles present, each of whom also won and carried off a gold

ring. This done, the music played, and they were all invited to supper

in the hall with the Prince and the Princess his mother. After supper,

the tables were taken away--they were only planks laid on trestles and

covered with white cloths--and the floor being cleared, the masquers had

the honour of dancing with the royal party. Finally, at a late hour, the

_flambeaux_ were lighted, and the masquers rode home, well pleased with

the reception they had met and the courtesy of the best behaved boy in

the world.

In the same year occurred the great riot of London, which arose out of

Wyclyf's trial in St. Paul's and the quarrel between the Bishop of

London and John of Gaunt. The latter, after the dismissal of Wyclyf,

repaired to the house of John de Ypres, close beside the river, where he

was sitting at dinner when one of his following ran hastily to warn him

that the people were flocking together with intent to murder him if they

could. The Duke therefore hastily ran down to the nearest stairs, took a

boat across the river, and fled as quickly as possible to Kennington

Palace, where he took shelter with the young Prince Richard and his

guardians. The mob, finding that the Duke was gone, made their way to

the Savoy, his palace, threatening to burn and destroy all: they did

actually murder one poor priest because he resembled the Duke in

countenance; they were then persuaded by the Bishop of London to go home

without doing any more mischief. What would have happened one knows not,

but the death of the old King gave an opportunity of patching up the

peace between the Duke of Lancaster and the citizens. Hearing that

Edward was _in extremis_, the Mayor and Aldermen waited on the Princess

of Wales and Prince Richard informing them of the King's critical

situation, and beseeching the Prince's favour to the City; they also

begged him to interfere for the better accommodation of the Duke's

differences with them. It is pleasing to find that John of Gaunt

freely forgave the City and became reconciled to the citizens; a

reconciliation which paved the way to the subsequent popularity of his

son Henry.

[Illustration: The High Street Southwark as it appeared MDXLIII]

It might be argued that the various impressions as regards London

produced on the mind of this prince explain his conduct towards the

citizens when he grew older. The first experiment he had of the citizens

was when they rode over in a goodly company clad in red cloaks with gold

chains and finely appointed horses to visit him at Kennington: he

remembered that their appearance betokened great wealth; that they

tossed about gold cups as if they were of wood. This is a kind of

impression which does not easily die away.

His second impression of the City was when his uncle, John of Gaunt,

came flying from the City, having barely escaped with his life, the

people having gone on to wreck, if they could, his palace of the Savoy.

A turbulent and dangerous people, then, as well as rich; a people to be

kept down.

He next saw the City when he rode through it on his way to be crowned at

Westminster. All the way there was nothing but rich tapestry, carpets,

scarlet, cloth, masquers clad in velvet, pageants with cloth of gold,

and the streets filled with men and women dressed in rich furs and

silks, such as only great barons could afford. This third impression

confirmed the first.

His next impression was that of the City lying prostrate at the mercy of

a large mob, unable to move or to help itself. He went into the City

almost alone; he, by one single act of splendid courage, put an end to

the insurrection. A City cowardly, therefore, and unable to act

together. It was his City, moreover--the _Camera Regis_. Should not a

prince do what he pleases with his own?

When we read of his subsequent treatment of the City: how he believed

its treasures to be inexhaustible; how he believed that it had no power

to resist; how he made the way easy for his cousin to supplant him, let

us bear in mind the lessons which the Londoners themselves provided for

him in his youth.

This King seizes on the imagination of all who think about him. His is

one of the strangest of all the strange figures which crowd the National

Portrait Gallery. Richly endowed with artistic instincts; a lover of

music and all the fine arts; of singularly winning manners; the

comeliest man in his whole kingdom; splendid in raiment, magnificent in

his court, colossal in his personal pride, prodigal and extravagant

beyond compare; the King whom those who knew him in his youth never

ceased to love; for whose soul--not for the soul of Henry

IV.--Whittington, for instance, left money for masses--this is a figure

among our English kings which has no parallel.

One more reminiscence of Kennington Palace. The last occasion on which

Richard lodged there was when he brought home his little bride Isabel,

the queen of eight years. They brought her from Dover, resting on the

way at Canterbury and Rochester. At Blackheath they were met by the

Mayor and Aldermen, attired with great magnificence of costume to do

honour to the bride. After reverences due, they fell into their place

and rode on with the procession. When they arrived at Newington, the

King thanked the Mayor and permitted him to leave the procession and

return home. He himself, with his company, rode by the cross-country

lane from Newington to Kennington Palace. I observe that this proves the

existence of a path or lane where is now Upper Kennington Lane. At this

palace the little queen rested a night, and next day was carried in

another procession to the Tower. The knights rode before, and the French

ladies came after. It is pretty to read how Isabel, with her long fair

hair falling over her shoulders, and her sweet childish face, sat up and

smiled upon the people, playing and pretending to be queen, which she

had been practising ever since her betrothal. Needless to say that all

hearts were ravished. The good people of London were ever ready to

welcome one princess after another, and to lose their hearts to them,

whether it was Isabel of France, or Katharine her sister, or Anne

Boleyn, or Queen Charlotte, or the fair Princess of Denmark. So great a

press was there that many were actually squeezed to death on London

Bridge, where the houses only left twelve feet in breadth. Isabel's

queenship proved a pretence: before she was old enough to be queen,

indeed, her husband was in confinement; before she understood that he

was a captive, he was murdered, and the splendid extravagant reign was

over. The son of the usurper, young Harry of Monmouth himself, desired

to take the place of Richard; his father also desired the match, for the

sake of the dowry. Isabel, child as she was still, had the heart of a

woman; she had learned to love her handsome, courteous, accomplished

lord, who died before he could claim her; she refused absolutely to

marry the son of his murderer. They tried to move her resolution by

persuasion; they did not dare to force her: let us believe that Harry of

Monmouth would not stoop to force the girl to marry him. There was

nothing therefore left to do, but to send her home to what was certainly

the most miserable court or palace in the world--that of her mad father.

In the end, she married her cousin, the poet Charles of Orleans. You may

read the verses which he made upon her death. Isabel died in childbirth

in her twenty-second year. As for Harry of Monmouth, as all the world

knows, he was obliged to content himself with Isabel's younger sister,

Katharine; we have just read about that queen, and how she stooped to a

suitor below her own degree. I think she was made of clay not so fine as

that of Isabel, her sister.

2. ELTHAM PALACE

The second in our chain of suburban Palaces was the Royal House of

Eltham, already mentioned in connection with Kennington. The place

itself seems to have been a settlement of some kind, a town or village,

in very ancient times. In the thirteenth century it was considered of

importance enough to receive the grant of a market day every Tuesday,

and a Fair for three days every year, namely, the day before the Feast

of the Trinity, the Feast itself, and the day after. In the fourteenth

century the market day was altered to Monday, but the Fair remained; in

the fifteenth century the market day returned to Tuesday and the Fair

was changed to three days on the Eve of St. Peter and St. Paul, on the

Feast itself, and on the day after. The market and the Fair have long

since been discontinued. The importance of both depended on the

occasional presence of the Court, and when that was removed altogether

from the place there was no longer any necessity for either market or

Fair Day. Eltham then became a small agricultural village lying in the

midst of woods, with nothing but scattered villages for many miles

round. So long as it contained one of the recognised Palaces, even

though years might pass by without a visit from the sovereign, there

was, attached to the house, the permanent staff to a Governor or warder,

with chiefs of the various departments and the men or assistants under

them. The occupation of the Palace by such a staff gave the place a kind

of garrison, and created a demand for provisions and for all sorts of

things. On those rare occasions when the Court was actually in Residence

at Eltham, the market had to furnish supplies, to which all the country

round had to contribute; nothing short of provisions for the maintenance

of thousands of people daily. At Eltham the difficulty may have been

very great; no doubt word would be sent long beforehand if the King

proposed to keep Christmas there. The yeomen of the kitchen had the beef

put in the pickling tubs in November--vast quantities of beef, for,

Christmas or not, the staple food of everybody in the winter was salt

beef. At the Palace of Kennington things were easier. It lay within easy

reach of the London market; so was Westminster. Greenwich was accessible

by ships from the lower reaches of the Thames as well as from London.

Eltham, no doubt, depended upon the rich and fruitful country in which

it stood. At eight miles from London, the markets there were of very

little use. The annals of the Palace are simple, rather than scanty; in

fact, there is plenty of mention made of the Palace, yet very little of

importance is recorded concerning it. All that is recorded of it belongs

to peace and festivity and the season of Christmas. Eltham was given by

William the Conqueror to his half-brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux and Earl

of Kent. After the disgrace of Odo, and the confiscation of his estates,

the manor belonged partly to the Queen and partly to the Mandevilles.

Thence it passed into the hands of the De Vesci family. From them it

went to the Scropes, and from them to various holders in succession.

There was a Palace, or House, here of some kind in very ancient times.

The historian says that he cannot ascertain when the Palace was built

(see p. 74). Since the origin of the House is unknown, he argues that it

must have been ancient. Now, concerning its connections with our Kings

and Queens, there is quite a long list. All these lists would have to be

catalogued, and even then be forgotten. For instance, the following list

of visits I borrow from Lysons. But I cannot pretend that it is of much

interest.

[Illustration: REMAINS OF ELTHAM PALACE, 1796]

In the year 1270 Henry III. kept Christmas at his Palace of Eltham with

the Queen and his nobles. After this the name of Anthony Bec, Bishop of

Durham and Patriarch of Jerusalem, is connected with the place. He built

a great deal, but I know not if any ruins of his yet remain. He died at

Eltham in 1311, presumably in the Palace, for there seem to have been no

other buildings. Now we come back to the kings, and we find historical

associations in plenty, though not of a kind which is moving or

interesting. It does not excite our curiosity much to learn that this

king or that king kept Christmas here, and yet that is the kind of

association which I have to offer. Edward the Second was often here:

perhaps the seclusion of the place enabled him to play his favourite

games with his followers without being overseen. One of his sons, John

of Eltham, was born here. Edward III., when still under age, had a

Parliament at Eltham in 1329. In 1347 his son Lionel kept Christmas for

him at Eltham. In 1364 he entertained here the French king John, his

prisoner. In 1375 he held another Parliament here, when the Commons

petitioned him to make Richard, his grandson, Prince of Wales. Richard

the Second, as we should expect, regarded Eltham with a peculiar

affection; it was beautiful; the buildings were splendid. It was a long

way from the City which took upon itself to remonstrate with his

extravagance. Three times at least he kept Christmas here: on the last

he entertained Leo, King of Armenia, with great splendour and profusion.

Henry the Fourth kept Christmas four times in the Palace. On the first,

the Aldermen of London and their children went down from the City to

perform a masque before the King, who received it well. At that moment

he was certain to receive everything well that came from the City. On

his last visit the disease broke out which killed him. Henry the Fifth

was here once, in 1414: Henry the Sixth once, in 1429. Edward the Fourth

was a second Founder, so much did he add to the buildings. Among other

things, he built a new front to the Palace and is said to have built the

Banqueting Hall itself. His festivities rivalled those of Richard the

Second. Here his daughter Bridget, afterwards a nun of Dartford, was

born. Henry the Seventh was another builder: he stayed at Eltham often.

Henry the Eighth came here once at least, but he preferred Greenwich as

a residence as soon as that house was built. Elizabeth also came here

only once or twice, preferring Greenwich, and James the First is only

recorded to have visited Eltham once. After this time Eltham ceased to

be a Palace. In 1646 Robert Earl of Essex died here[1]; the Manor was

sold after Charles's death. After the Restoration it reverted to the

Crown; the rest of the history concerns its occupancy by private

families. On the death of Charles the Palace was surveyed; it is

described as being built of brick, stone, and timber; it contained (see

p. 74) one chapel, a hall, 36 rooms and offices below stairs, with two

large cellars; and above stairs 17 lodging houses on the King's side, 12

on the Queen's side, and 9 on the Prince's side; and 78 rooms in the

offices round the courtyard, which contained one acre of ground: the

house was out of repair and uninhabitable. There were gardens attached

to the house. A moat surrounded the house, of width 60 feet, except in

the forest, where it was 115 feet. The moat still exists on the north

side, and can be traced all round. Of the buildings little remains

except the old Banqueting Hall, a truly beautiful ruin; the roof, with

its fine woodwork, is happily still standing, but shored up and

supported. The windows are mostly blocked up; fragments only remain of

the other buildings; but it is said to be possible, in the gardens at

the back, to trace out the courts and the foundations of the chapel and

offices. The Palace is approached by a bridge of about the same date as

the Palace, viz. the fourteenth century. It crosses the moat, and with

its picturesque ivy-clad arches and the Banqueting Hall on one side, and

the Court House on the other, it is as lovely an approach to the ruin as

could well be imagined or created.

[Illustration: KING JOHN'S PALACE, KENT

(_From a Drawing by J. Hassell, 1804_)]

One of the last visits of the King to Eltham was in the year 1575, when

Henry held one of the tournaments in which in his early manhood he so

much delighted. This is Holinshed's account of it:--

'After the parlement was ended, the king kept a solemne Christmasse at

his manor of Eltham; and on the Twelfe night in the hall was made a

goodlie castell, woonderouslie set out, and in it certeine ladies and

knights; and when the king and queene were set, in came other knights

and assailed the castell, where manie a good stripe was giuen; and at

the last the assailants were beaten awaie. And then issued out knights

and ladies out of the castell, which ladies were rich and strangelie

disguised; for all their apparell was in braids of gold, fret with

moouing spangls of siluer and gilt, set on crimson sattin, loose and not

fastned: the mens apparell of the same sute made like Iulis of

Hungarie; and the ladies heads and bodies were after the fashion of

Amsterdam. And when the dansing was doone, the banket was serued in of

two hundred dishes, with great plentie to euerie bodie.'

[Illustration: Remains of Eltham Palace]

There is little more to be said about Eltham, which is a place so

beautiful that it ought to have a more interesting history. Kings and

Courts delight me not, nor do I take pleasure in reading about

tournaments and masques.

There is no figure in the history of Eltham so pleasant to think upon as

that of little Prince Richard, the lovely boy who was going to become

such an extravagant King. One would like to have seen Edward

entertaining his prisoner, King John of France; and one wonders what

sort of figure was played by the Armenian Leo in the presence of

Richard's splendour: but perhaps he knew the Court of Constantinople,

and smiled at the splendour of the barbaric north.

Once more, how did they provide for the maintenance of so many guests?

To feed two thousand every day is a great undertaking. We are accustomed

to believe that the roads in winter were so bad as to be impassable.

Now, everything had to be brought there, whatever the condition of the

roads. And they were bye-roads, not high roads. The guests, too, and the

nobles and their retainers, had to arrive by those roads. As was stated

above, due notice was certainly given: a vast quantity of salt

provisions was laid down in readiness: for the rest, the country was

fertile and well cultivated. The Park contained deer--but they could not

kill all; the Thames, only three miles away--but then, the roads!--was

full of salmon and every kind of fish: the banks of the lower reaches

and those of the Ravensbourne--again, those roads!--were the homes of

myriads of wild birds. Still, one feels that the inland communications

of the fourteenth century must have been a great deal better than those

of the seventeenth century in order to allow of Christmas being kept in

magnificence and profusion by two thousand people in a country village.

[Illustration: The Moat Bridge Eltham Palace]

The views which accompany this account are taken from Lysons: they were

engraved in the year 1796. There is not much difference in the present

aspect: the moat has been opened again: the buildings represented on the

south side of the Hall have vanished: and the place itself which had

been used as a barn is now empty, and is only thrown open for visitors

or the drilling of Volunteers.

3. GREENWICH PALACE

The Green Village lying on the slope of a gentle hill, with marshes on

either side of it--the marsh of the Ravensbourne on one side, and the

Woolwich or the Greenwich marsh on the other side of it--is as old as

history itself. Its position as the landing-place, or point of approach,

to the lands of Kent, a place where ships might lie, pirates and

invaders might seize and hold as a base of operations, very early called

attention to its natural advantages. Here the Danes encamped in 1011;

here they brought the venerable Alphege and murdered him, throwing beef

bones at his head. As the throwing of bones was a favourite evening

pastime with the Danes, they probably meant little at first beyond a

friendly reminder or an invitation to take part in the game: as the

Archbishop made no response they threw the bones in earnest (see p. 72).

The people of Greenwich have long since forgotten that the place was

once a Royal Residence, and that there are historical memories connected

with Greenwich of interest almost equal to those of Westminster, and far

more important and interesting than those of Eltham.

Let us perform the perfunctory task of cataloguing some of these

memories.

In the year 1408, Henry IV. dates his will from Greenwich.

In 1417 Henry V. granted the manor for life to Thomas Beaufort, Duke of

Exeter, who afterwards died here.

In 1443 it was granted to Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, with permission

to fortify and embattle the manor house, and to enclose a park of 200

acres. This was the true beginning of Greenwich Palace. Humphrey rebuilt

the house, which he called Placentia, the House of Pleasance: he

enclosed the Park and he built a Tower on the spot where the Royal

Observatory now stands. On his death, in 1447, the place reverted to the

Crown. Edward the Fourth took great pleasure in the place and beautified

it at much cost. In 1466 he granted the Manor, Palace, and Park, to the

Queen, Elizabeth Woodville, for life. The marriage of Richard Duke of

York and Anne Mowbray was here solemnised with the usual rejoicings.

[Illustration: GREENWICH, 1662

(_From a Drawing by Jonas Moore_)]

With Henry VII. also Greenwich was a favourite place of residence. He

added a brick front on the riverside (see p. 77). Here Henry the Eighth

was born on June 28, 1491. He was baptised in the Parish Church, the

predecessor of the present church. He, too, loved Greenwich above all

other Palaces, and made it during the early years of his reign the scene

of the festivities and entertainments which he loved so much. Here he

married Katharine of Arragon on June 3, 1510. Here he held the great

tournament in which he himself, Sir Edward Howard, Charles Brandon, and

Edward Neville challenged all comers. In 1512 and in 1513 he kept

Christmas here 'with great solemnity, dancing, disguisings, and mummers

in a most princely manner.' Holinshed gives an account of two

entertainments held by the King at Greenwich--one a tournament in June,

the other at Christmas:--

'This yeare also in Iune, the king kept a solemne iustes at Greenewich,

the king & sir Charles Brandon taking vpon them to abide all commers.

First came the ladies all in white and red silke, set vpon coursers

trapped in the same sute, freated ouer with gold; after whom followed a

founteine curiouslie made of russet sattin, with eight gargils spowting

water: within the founteine sat a knight armed at all peeces. After

this founteine followed a ladie all in blacke silke dropped with fine

siluer, on a courser trapped in the same. Then followed a knight in a

horsselitter, the coursers & litter apparelled in blacke with siluer

drops. When the fountein came to the tilt, the ladies rode round about,

and so did the founteine, and the knight within the litter. And after

them were brought twi goodlie coursers apparelled for the iusts: and

when they came to the tilts end, the two knights mounted on the two

courses abiding all commers. The king was in the founteine, and sir

Charles Brandon was in the litter. Then suddenlie with great noise of

trumpets entred sir Thomas Kneuet in a castell of cole blacke, and ouer

the castell was written "The Dolorous Castell," and so he and the earle

of Essex, the lord Howard, and other ran their courses with the king and

sir Charles Brandon, and euer the king brake most speares, and likelie

was so to doo yer he began, as in former time; the prise fell to his

lot; so luckie was he and fortunat in the proofe of his prowes in

martiall actiuitie, whereto from his yong yeers he was giuen....

'After this parlement was ended, the king kept a solemne Christmasse at

Greenwich, with danses and mummeries in most princelie maner. And on the

Twelfe daie at night came into the hall a mount, called the rich mount.

The mount was set full of rich flowers of silke, and especiallie full of

broome slips full of cods, and branches were greene sattin, and the

flowers flat gold of damaske, which signified Plantagenet. On the top

stood a goodlie beacon giuing light, round about the beacon sat the king

and fiue other, all in cotes and caps of right crimson veluet,

embrodered with flat gold of damaske, their cotes set full of spangles

of gold. And foure woodhouses drew the mount till it came before the

queene, and then the king and his companie descended and dansed. Then

suddenlie the mount opened, and out came six ladies all in crimsin

sattin and plunket, embrodered with gold and pearle, with French hoods

on their heads, and they dansed alone. Then the lords of the mount

tooke the ladies and dansed togither: and the ladies reentered, and the

mount closed, and so was conueied out of the hall. Then the king shifted

him, and came to the queene, and sat at the banket, which was verie

sumptuous.'

[Illustration: GREENWICH HOSPITAL

(_From a Drawing by Schnebbelie_)]

Other tournaments were held here in 1517, 1526, and 1536.

Here Charles Brandon married Mary, Dowager Queen of France. Six or seven

times more Henry kept Christmas at Greenwich. In 1543, the last

occasion, he entertained twenty-one Scottish gentlemen, taken prisoners,

and released them without a ransom, being to the end, whatever else he

was, a Prince of most Princely gifts and graces.

Queen Mary was born at Greenwich in 1515. Cardinal Wolsey was her

godfather.

King Edward the Sixth died here.

Queen Elizabeth was born here on September 7, 1533. She, too, spent much

of her time at Greenwich.

King James also much delighted in this place: he added to the brickwork

by the riverside: he also walled the park and laid the foundations of

the house afterwards called the House of Delight. The Queen, who

received the Palace in jointure, carried on this House, which was

afterwards completed by Inigo Jones for Henrietta Maria. It was called

the King's House, the Queen's House, or the Ranger's Lodge. It was not

until 1807 that the house was granted to the Commissioners of the Royal

Naval Asylum.

Separated from town by five miles of road, and four of river, it was

thus easily accessible in all weathers and independent of the condition

of the roads. In other respects the position of the place was

unrivalled: it was on a slope rising from the river in front, and from

lowlands on either side; it was swept night and day by the sharp fresh

breeze that came up with the tide from the sea; behind it, on a high

level, lay an expanse of heath, dry and wholesome; there was no better

air to be got than the air of Greenwich; that of Eltham, with its

stagnant marsh and thick woods, was close and aguish in comparison: for

view, the broad river rolled along the Palace front and bent round to

east and west, so that one could see all the shipping in front; all in

Limehouse Reach; and all in Blackwall Reach. As the tide ebbed and

flowed, the navies and the trade of London passed up and down, outward

bound or homeward bound. Sitting at her window, or walking on her

terrace, Queen Elizabeth could for herself learn what was meant by the

foreign trade of London: what was meant by the exports and imports: she

could see every kind of ship that floats come sailing up the river,

streamers flying, dipping the peak in salute: she could understand the

coasting trade and the Flemish trade: she could ask what the hoys and

ketches, the lighters, and the barges carried up to the Port of London

in such numbers: she could herself, and often did, embark upon the

stream in summer, when the sun was sinking in the west, to see the ships

more closely and to enjoy the fresh, cool air of the river. Witness the

sad history of Thomas Appletree.

It was on the 17th day of July in the year 1579, about nine o'clock of

the evening, that an accident happened which might have had fatal

consequences. The Queen was taking the air in her private barge, between

Greenwich and Deptford. With her were the French Ambassador, the Earl of

Lincoln, and other great persons, discoursing affairs of state.

Unfortunately for themselves, four young fellows were out in a small

boat at the same time, and on the same part of the river. They were

Thomas Appletree, a young servant of Francis Carey, two singing boys of

the Queen's choir, and another. Thomas Appletree had possessed himself

of a 'caliver' or arquebus, which he was so ill advised as to load with

ball and then fire it at random up and down the river. One of these

haphazard discharges carried the bullet straight to the Queen's barge,

where it passed through both arms of the oarsman nearest Her Majesty.

The man thus unexpectedly wounded, finding himself bleeding like a

pig--for it was a flesh wound--threw himself down, bawling and roaring

out that he was murdered. The Queen comforted him with the assurance

that he should be properly cared for, and ordered the barge to be taken

back to the shore at once. The man, being treated, speedily recovered.

Meantime, who had dared to fire a gun at the Queen's barge? The question

was very quickly answered, and the Lords in Council had the four lads

brought up before them. It appearing that the only guilty person was

Thomas Appletree, the other three were suffered to depart, and Thomas

was tried. It was ascertained that there could be no question as to the

loyalty of Thomas's master, Francis Carey, therefore the whole guilt

rested on the shoulders of the unlucky serving man, whose only fault had

been foolhardiness in firing his gun at random. He was therefore

sentenced to be hanged, with the usual accompaniments, for treason.

Accordingly, on the 20th day of July he was taken from Newgate and

conducted on a hurdle with great ceremony to Tower Hill, and so through

the postern to Ratcliff, where, opposite the place where the offence was

committed, they had put up a gibbet on which the unhappy Thomas

Appletree was to be hanged. He had made a dolorous journey on his

hurdle, weeping copiously all the way, and many of the people weeping

with him. Arrived at the gallows, he mounted the ladder, and, if the

chronicler repeats faithfully, he made a most admirable use of the last

moments which remained to him. It is, indeed, truly remarkable to

observe how admirably all those who were taken out to die acquitted

themselves, whether it was a peer to be beheaded for treason, or a

Catholic priest to be hanged, drawn, and quartered for being a priest.

Appletree, for his part, spoke so movingly that the people all wept with

him. Then the hangman put the rope round the condemned man's neck, and

the bitterness of death entered into his soul. But the people cried,

'Stay! Stay!' and at that moment there came riding up the Queen's

Vice-Chamberlain, Sir Christopher Hatton. But think not that the

Vice-Chamberlain hastily proclaimed the royal pardon. Not at all. He

left Thomas on the ladder for a while; he made an oration on the

heinousness of the offence: he made everybody kneel while he prayed for

the safety of the Queen: and then, when all hearts were softened and all

eyes bedewed, he pronounced the Queen's pardon, which the prisoner

acknowledged in suitable language. Thomas Appletree was then taken back

to the Marshalsea, where he remained, one hopes, a very short time after

this. We may be quite sure that whatever destiny was in store for this

young man, shooting at random with a caliver or arquebus would have

nothing to do with it.

Another association of Greenwich is that of Sir John Willoughby's

departure for the Arctic seas. He was going to endeavour to open a new

way for trade round the N.E. Arctic sea along the north coast of Asia.

He embarked at Ratcliff Stairs: you may take boat there to this day. As

he passed down the river, with flags and streamers flying, they brought

out the little King Edward, who was dying, to see the sailing of the

stout old sailor. So with firing of guns the ships passed on their way,

and they carried the dying King back to his bed. In a day or two Edward

was dead. In six months, or it might be less, Willoughby was dead too,

frozen to death in his cabin, where the Russians found him, his dead

hand on his papers.

If you wish to know what state was kept by Queen Elizabeth at Greenwich,

you will find an account of it in Hentzner, that excellent traveller who

remarked so much, and put all down on paper.

'We arrived at the Royal Palace of Greenwich, reported to have been

originally built by Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and to have received

very magnificent additions from Henry VII. It was here Elizabeth, the

present Queen, was born, and here she generally resides; particularly

in Summer, for the Delightfulness of its Situation. We were admitted by

an Order Mr. Rogers had procured from the Lord Chamberlain, into the

Presence-Chamber, hung with rich Tapestry, and the Floor, after the

English fashion, strewed with Hay,[2] through which the Queen commonly

passes in her way to chapel: At the Door stood a Gentleman dressed in

Velvet, with a Gold Chain, whose Office was to introduce to the Queen

any Person of Distinction, that came to wait on her: It was Sunday, when

there is usually the greatest Attendance of Nobility. In the same Hall

were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great Number

of Counsellors of State, Officers of the Crown, and Gentlemen, who

waited the Queen's coming out; which she did from her own Apartment,

when it was Time to go to Prayers, attended in the following Manner:

'First went Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly

dressed and bare-headed; next came the Chancellor, bearing the Seals in

a red-silk Purse, between Two: One of which carried the Royal Scepter,

the other the Sword of State, in a red Scabbard, studded with golden

Fleurs de Lis, the Point upwards: Next came the Queen, in the

Sixty-fifth Year of her Age, as we were told, very majestic; her Face

oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her Eyes small, yet black and pleasant; her

Nose a little hooked; her Lips narrow, and her Teeth black (a Defect the

English seem subject to, from their too great Use of Sugar): she had in

her Ears two Pearls, with very rich Drops; she wore false Hair, and that

red; upon her Head she had a small Crown, reported to be made of some of

the Gold of the celebrated Lunebourg Table:[3] Her Bosom was uncovered,

as all the English Ladies have it, till they marry; and she had on a

Necklace of exceeding fine Jewels; her Hands were small, her Fingers

long, and her Stature neither tall nor low; her Air was stately, her

Manner of Speaking mild and obliging. That Day she was dressed in white

Silk, bordered with Pearls of the Size of Beans, and over it a Mantle of

black Silk, shot with Silver Threads; her Train was very long, the End

of it borne by a Marchioness; instead of a Chain, she had an oblong

Collar of Gold and Jewels. As she went along in all this State and

Magnificence, she spoke very graciously, first to one, then to another,

whether foreign Ministers, or those who attended for different Reasons,

in English, French and Italian; for, besides being well skilled in

Greek, Latin, and the Languages I have mentioned, she is mistress of

Spanish, Scotch, and Dutch: Whoever speaks to her, it is kneeling; now

and then she raises some with her Hand. While we were there, W. Slawata,

a Bohemian Baron, had Letters to present to her; and she, after pulling

off her Glove, gave him her right Hand to kiss, sparkling with Rings and

Jewels, a Mark of particular Favour: Where-ever she turned her Face, as

she was going along, everybody fell down on their Knees.[4] The Ladies

of the Court followed next to her, very handsome and well-shaped, and

for the most Part dressed in white; she was guarded on each Side by the

Gentlemen Pensioners, fifty in Number, with gilt Battleaxes. In the

Antichapel next the Hall where we were, Petitions were presented to her,

and she received them most graciously, which occasioned the Acclamation

of, Long live Queen ELIZABETH! She answered with, I thank you, my good

PEOPLE. In the Chapel was excellent Music; as soon as it and the Service

was over, which scarce exceeded half an hour, the Queen returned in the

same State and Order, and prepared to go to Dinner. But while she was

still at Prayers, we saw her Table set out with the following Solemnity.

'A Gentleman entered the Room bearing a Rod, and along with him another

who had a Table-cloth, which, after they had both kneeled three Times

with the utmost Veneration, he spread upon the Table, and after kneeling

again they both retired. Then came two others, one with the Rod again,

the other with a Salt-seller, a Plate and Bread; when they had kneeled,

as the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the Table, they

too retired with the same Ceremonies performed by the first. At last

came an unmarried Lady (we were told she was a Countess), and along with

her a married one, bearing a Tasting-knife; the former was dressed in

white Silk, who, when she had prostrated herself three Times, in the

most graceful Manner, approached the Table, and rubbed the Plates with

Bread and Salt with as much Awe as if the Queen had been present: When

they had waited there a little while, the Yeomen of the Guard entered,

bare-headed, cloathed in Scarlet, with a golden Rose upon their Backs,

bringing in at each Turn a Course of twenty-four Dishes, served in

plate, most of it Gilt; these Dishes were received by a Gentleman in the

same Order they were brought, and placed upon the Table, while the

Lady-taster gave to each of the Guards a mouthful to eat, of the

particular dish he had brought, for Fear of any Poison. During the Time

that this Guard, which consists of the tallest and stoutest Men that can

be found in all England, being carefully selected for this Service, were

bringing Dinner, twelve Trumpets and two Kettle-drums made the Hall ring

for Half an Hour together. At the end of this Ceremonial a Number of

unmarried Ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted the

Meat off the Table, and conveyed it into the Queen's inner and more

private Chamber, where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes

to the Ladies of the Court.

'The Queen dines and sups alone, with very few Attendants; and it is

very seldom that any Body, Foreigner or Native, is admitted at that

Time, and then only at the Intercession of somebody in Power.'

On the Restoration, Charles at first resolved to pull down the Palace

and build it anew. For this purpose he consulted various persons, and

after many delays began the building. He only succeeded, however, in

erecting what is now the west wing of the Hospital. But it never again

became a Royal Residence. In 1694, the Palace was converted into a

Hospital for the Royal Navy. This splendid institution, one of the

glories of Great Britain, and a standing monument of the nation's

gratitude to her sailors, and an ever present invitation to enter the

navy, was closed, with that stupid indifference to sentiment which so

often distinguishes the acts of our Government, in the year 1870.

4. LAMBETH PALACE

[Illustration: Lambeth Palace]

The now huge town of Lambeth presents few points of interest either to

the visitor or to the historian. There are no buildings of any antiquity

except the Palace and the Church. There are no modern buildings at all

worth notice. There have been two or three memorable houses which we

shall do well to touch upon: but they are not so memorable as to deserve

long description. The Bishops of Rochester had a house in the Marsh--the

site is in Carlisle Place, Westminster Road, at the back of St. Thomas's

Hospital, close to Lambeth Palace. It was in this house that, in 1531, a

wretched man named Robert Roose, in the Bishop's service as cook,

wilfully, as was alleged, poisoned a large number of people, and was

boiled to death in oil--the only instance, I believe, of this dreadful

punishment. The wretched man was tied naked to a post and slowly lowered

into the boiling fluid. Fisher was the last Bishop of Rochester who

lived in this house. The buildings, with losses and additions, existed

in some form or other till 1827. The house, indeed, had a strangely

chequered history. The Bishop of Rochester exchanged it with the Crown

for a house thought more convenient in Southwark, close to Winchester

House. The Crown gave it to the Bishop of Carlisle, who seems to have

let it on lease: thus it lost its ecclesiastical character altogether

and became given over to entirely secular uses. It was at one time a

pottery: then a tavern, and even a notorious and disorderly house: then

a dancing master taught his accomplishments in the house: then it became

a school. Finally, the gardens were built over, the operations

disclosing many interesting gates and 'bits.'

Another house was that belonging to the Duke of Norfolk: it was called

Norfolk House, and it stood on the other side of the Palace, on the site

now marked by Paradise Street. Here lived the old Duke whose life was

saved by the death of Henry the Eighth; here was brought up the

accomplished Earl of Surrey whose life would have been saved had Henry

died a few days earlier. Leland, the antiquary and scholar, was the

Earl's tutor. The widow of Dr. Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury,

obtained the house. Her heirs ceased to live in it; the house was

neglected, probably because no tenant could be found for it. Finally, it

was pulled down. It is interesting to note the town houses which stood

upon the Bank from Rotherhithe to Battersea: that of the Prior of Lewes;

of Sir John Fastolfe; of the Augustines; the House of St. Mary Overies;

Winchester House; Rochester House; Norfolk House; and later, the house

of the St. Johns at Battersea. There are none between Bankside and

Lambeth; that part of the Embankment which lies between Blackfriars and

Westminster Bridge has no history and no associations.

[Illustration: BONNER HALL, LAMBETH]

Another noteworthy Lambeth house was that called Copt Hall, afterwards

Vauxhall, situated opposite to the gardens afterwards called Vauxhall.

In this house the unfortunate Arabella Stuart lived for a time. A good

deal might be written about Copt Hall, but not in this place.

The houses of the Archbishop, the Bishop of Rochester, and the Duke of

Norfolk stood close together and clustered round the church. The reason

was the necessity of building on or near to the Embankment. Exactly

opposite the south porch of the church may be observed a small and

somewhat decayed street grandly called the High. The name and the

situation close to the church indicate an individual and separate

existence of the town or village of Lambeth, of which this was the

principal street and the centre. The village, in fact, did exist from

very early times; its population for the most part earned their

livelihood as Thames fishermen. They were the lineal successors of that

fortunate Edric to whom St. Peter appeared when he consecrated the

Abbey. There was another colony of Thames fishermen lower down the river

on Bermondsey Wall. When William the Conqueror is said to have burned

Southwark it was the fishermen's cottages which he destroyed. None of

these lived between Bankside and Westminster, which is proved by the

fact that there is no church near the river wall at that place. The

Thames fishermen lingered on, though the fishery grew poorer, until

about 1820, when they were reduced to a single court in Lambeth. The

place is described as mean and rickety, with neither paving nor lamps;

the woodwork of the cottages broken; the roofs burst and tottering; the

windows stuffed with rags or mended with paper; the children in rags;

the court a receptacle for everything.

Lambeth as it is has mostly sprung into existence in the nineteenth

century, during which its population has been actually multiplied by

ten, and more than ten, rising from 27,000 in 1801 to 295,000 in 1891,

an enormous increase. The principal reason of this development is the

introduction of a great many industries--potteries, vinegar factories,

distilleries, salt warehouses, bottle factories, and so forth.

Lambeth certainly cannot be called a beautiful town nor a desirable

place of residence. The perambulator looks about in vain for streets

noble, striking or picturesque; he looks in vain for houses beautiful or

ancient; there is nothing to reward him. Old houses there were before

the great increase began, but they exist no more; the place is dull; in

parts it is dirty; everywhere it is without character or distinction.

It has, however, a pretty park called after the famous Vauxhall Gardens,

on whose site it stands. The park is new, but it is well laid out and

planted; already it is a pretty piece of greenery, and, with Kennington

and Battersea Parks, offers a much wanted breathing place for the

multitudes of that quarter. It is adorned, or enriched, or ennobled, by

a statue of Henry Fawcett, who died in a house on this spot. The

statesman, attired in a costume strictly of the period, is sitting in a

chair, pretending not to be aware that behind him stands an angel with

outstretched wings, crowning him with laurel. He is obviously

embarrassed by the situation. He feels that he ought to be dressed in

some kind of Court costume--if he knew what--in order to receive the

angel; or the angel might have assumed a frock coat in compliment to the

statesman. The wings were probably in the way.

[Illustration: RESIDENCE OF GUY FAWKES, LAMBETH

(_From 'La Belle Assemblée,' Nov. 1822_)]

Lambeth Palace, whose history I am not going to narrate, plays a very

considerable part in the History of England. In 1232 and in 1234,

Parliament was held here. In 1261 and 1280 Councils were held here. In

1412 Archbishop Arundell, the kindly Christian who was so anxious to

burn heretics, issued from this Palace a condemnation as heretical of a

great many opinions, insomuch that it became obviously dangerous to have

any opinions at all. This, however, was the condition of mind most

desired by the Church of Arundell's time and of his views. It is

needless to recount the many occasions when Kings and Queens were

entertained at Lambeth Palace. Cardinal Pole died here. It was sometimes

a prison. Queen Elizabeth entrusted to the care of the Archbishop at

Lambeth, Bishops Tonstal and Thirlby, the Earl of Essex, the Earl of

Southampton, Lord Stourton, and many others, who were kept in honourable

confinement, not in dungeons or cells, but each in his own chamber.

[Illustration: BISHOP'S WALK, LAMBETH]

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE HALL, LAMBETH PALACE

(_From an Engraving dated 1804_)]

That there were prisons in every Episcopal Palace was necessary at a

time when the clergy could only be tried in Ecclesiastical Courts, so

that the Bishops could not send their criminous clerks to an ordinary

prison. Hence it is that we frequently read of a priest brought before

an Ecclesiastical Court, but we do not learn what became of him. He was

consigned to the prison of the House. When the Lollards inveighed

against the corruption of ecclesiastics they accused the Bishops of too

great leniency towards their delinquents and prisoners. In some cases,

no doubt, the ecclesiastical prison was used to save a prisoner from the

worst consequences of his offence. For instance, a heretic handed over

to the secular arm had by law to be burned. Let us endeavour to believe

that in the Archbishop's prison cells of Lambeth there were many who

might have been burned but for the humanity which sometimes overrode

even Ecclesiastical ruthlessness.

[Illustration: LAMBETH PALACE, FROM THE RIVER]

It is recorded in Archbishop Arundell's Register (Cave-Browne, 'Lambeth

Palace,' p. 710) that he sent for a Chaplain out of his prisons below

his manor house at Lambeth. The Chaplain was a preacher licensed by the

Archbishop who yet carried about with him a concubine. No doubt the poor

man regarded her as his wife, and so called her, as thousands of the

clergy did, and were held blameless by the people for so doing.

The Palace either contains, or has at some time contained, the work of

nearly every Archbishop in succession. For a full and complete history

of the buildings, which would be outside the limits of the present

chapter, the reader is referred to the pleasant pages of the Rev. J.

Cave-Browne, called 'Lambeth and its Associations.'

[Illustration: LOLLARDS' TOWER, LAMBETH PALACE]

It is impossible to determine when the building of Lambeth Palace began.

One thing is certain, that it has always been an Ecclesiastical Palace.

The manor of Lambeth belonged to the Lady Guda, sister of Edward the

Confessor. In Domesday Book the manor contained thirty-nine men, who

with their families probably represented a population of about 200. They

had a church, which stood on the site of the present church. Observe how

all the old churches belonging to the Marsh stand on the

Embankment--Rotherhithe; St. Olave's; Lambeth; Battersea. Guda, wife of

Eustace, Count of Boulogne, gave the manor to the Bishop and convent of

Rochester, reserving the church. Harold, it is said, took it from the

Bishop; it was seized by William the Conqueror. William Rufus restored

it to Rochester and added the patronage of the Church. In 1197 Hubert,

Archbishop of Canterbury, gave the manor of Dartford to the Bishop and

convent of Rochester, in exchange for Lambeth. Having got possession of

the place, Hubert set to work to improve it. He obtained a weekly market

and an annual fair; the latter continued till the year 1757.

What Hubert built here is uncertain, but it is certain that he did build

some kind of residence. Stephen Langton added other buildings; Boniface,

A.D. 1260, found the buildings in great need of repair or insufficient.

He was the first considerable builder of Lambeth. One may make a fair

guess at the work of Boniface. We may consider it by the light afforded

by the monastic Houses--this was not a monastery, but there was

certainly something of the monastic spirit about the House. We may also

take it for granted that certain essential parts of the building, though

they might be rebuilt with greater splendour, would not change their

position. For instance, when in after years we find a chapel, a

cloister, a water-tower, or entrance from the river, and a gate-tower,

or entrance from the land--then these things existed from the first.

Boniface, therefore, found a chapel in the north-west corner of the

Palace, where it still stands; on the west side of the chapel he found a

water-tower with a gate opening upon a creek of the river by which

everything was received into the House, the door of communication with

the outer world, while the Archbishop's barges and boats lay moored up

the creek. South of the chapel Boniface either built or rebuilt the

cloisters; south of the cloisters he built or rebuilt his Hall. A Hall

was absolutely necessary for a great house, and for an Archbishop's

Palace it must be a splendid Hall. What is now called the Guard Room was

probably at first part of the Archbishop's private apartments.

[Illustration: Doorway in the Lollard's Tower]

A list of the rooms then in the Palace was made in 1321. At that time

there was the Archbishop's private Chapel, his Chamber, his Hall, the

Chancellor's Chambers, the Great Chapel, the Great Gate, and certain

minor apartments--a modest list, but the dormitories and principal

bedchambers are not enumerated, nor is any mention made of the Library,

the offices, the cells, or the Main Gate, all of which must have been

there.

Then we come to the later works, of which there are more than we need

set down--are they not written in Ducarel the Laborious and in

Cave-Browne the Life-giver to the dust and ashes of ancient facts? The

principal gateway as we now see it is the fifteenth century work of

Cardinal Morton; it is built in the same style as the gateway of St.

John's College, Cambridge, but is much larger and finer; with the

Church, it forms a most effective group of buildings. The present Water

Tower was built by Archbishop Chicheley, but on the site of an older

tower; it contained, as I have said, the water gate--that is to say, the

real gate of communication with the world. To this gate came all the

visitors--Kings and Cardinals, Legates, Bishops and Ambassadors; and to

this gate came the barges with supplies for my Lord's table. Cranmer is

said to have built the small tower at the north-east of the Chapel.

Cardinal Pole, who died here, built the Long Gallery, and probably the

piazza that supported it. Laud built the smaller tower on the south face

of the Chicheley Tower. Let us remark here that the Tower never had any

connection with Lollards, and that all the talk about the unhappy

Lollard prisoners is without foundation.

[Illustration: LOLLARDS' PRISON]

Juxon, who found the Palace a 'heap of ruins,' spent his three years of

occupancy and 15,000_l._ of his own money in restoring the place for the

honour and splendour of the Church. As for what has been done since that

time, especially by Archbishop Howley, it all belongs to the detailed

history of the Palace. It is sufficient here to note that the Palace is

a worthy House to-day, as it was five hundred years ago, for the

residence of the Primate. He belongs still, as his Roman Catholic

predecessors, to a Church whose members love some splendour in their

ecclesiastical Princes, just as they love splendour in their churches

and stateliness in their ritual. They do not desire to make a Bishop

rich: they do desire that a Bishop should not be hampered by narrow

circumstances: they desire that he should be able to take the lead in

all good works. In ancient times, the Bishop rode or sat in splendid

state: he sat every day at a table loaded with costly and luxurious

food: outwardly he was clothed with silken robes. But he touched nothing

that was set before him: he lived hardly and abstemiously: and he wore

next his skin a hair shirt: and for greater self-denial he suffered his

hair shirt to be full of vermin. That was the ideal Bishop of mediæval

times. Our own is much the same: a simple life: a splendid house: modest

wants: a large income: for himself no luxuries: and an open hand. Such a

house: such an income: we have always given to an Archbishop, whether of

the old or of the Reformed Faith.

The Chapel has at least one memory which will always cling to it. Within

its dark and gloomy crypt Anne Boleyn, brought from the Tower, stood to

hear her sentence. She was to be burned to death as an adulteress. I am

not qualified by study of the case or by education in the weighing of

evidence to pronounce an opinion as to her innocence. I believe that

those who have examined into the case are of opinion that Anne Boleyn

fell a victim to the King's jealousy: to his change of mind towards her:

and to her own foolish frivolity. However, in the crypt she was

persuaded into making some sort of avowal of a previous betrothal, in

return for which she was spared the agonies of the stake. I have

sometimes thought that the King must have thought her guilty, otherwise

he would have divorced her on a charge of adultery, and suffered her to

live. If he did not believe her guilty, how could he, being, above all

things, a man of human passions, have sentenced the woman whom he had

once loved to so horrible a death?

Let us note, however, that our ancestors did not regard death by burning

with quite the same horror as is now common. There is a story of

Rogers--or Bradford--the martyr. Some one once begged his intercession

to save a woman from burning. 'It is a gentle mode of death,' he

replied. 'Then,' said the other, 'I hope that you yourself will some day

have your hands full of this gentle death.' Punishment was meant to be

painful: the least painful form of death was that accorded to the

noble--to be beheaded. If a man died by the executioner, it was expected

that he should suffer. Death, in all forms, meant suffering. In disease

and in old age men suffered torture as bad as any inflicted by the

executioner.

I am not excusing Henry. I am only pleading that he must have believed

in Anne's guilt or he could not possibly have allowed such a sentence;

and that cruel as it seems to us, it did not seem so cruel at that time.

There is, however, no more sorrowful story in the whole long History of

England, which is, alas! so full of sorrow and of tragedy, than that of

Anne Boleyn.

Lambeth Palace, the only palace in the whole of South London, is a

monument of English History from the twelfth century downwards.

Kennington appears at intervals; Eltham is a holiday house; Greenwich

practically begins with the Tudors. Lambeth, like Westminster or St.

Paul's, belongs to the long history of the English people. It is a place

little known: of the millions now, in the circle of the Greater London,

how many, I should like to ask, have ever seen the interior? Of the vast

population of Lambeth, Battersea, and Kennington, of which it is the

centre, how many, I wonder, know anything at all about its history or

its buildings?

Of those who daily go up and down the river, who come and go across the

Bridge, and suffer their careless and unobservant eyes to rest for a

moment on the grey walls and Tower of the Palace, how many are there who

know, or inquire, or care for the wealth of history that clings to every

stone?

FOOTNOTES:

[1] At Eltham House, the lodge in the Great Park.

[2] He probably means rushes.

[3] At this distance of time, it is difficult to say what this was.

[4] Her Father had been treated with the same Deference. It is mentioned

by Fox in his 'Acts and Monuments,' that when the Lord Chancellor went

to apprehend Queen Catherine Parr, he spoke to the King on his Knees.

King James I. suffered his Courtiers to omit it.