MYSTERIOUS ROOMS, DEADLY PITS, ETC.
At the "Restoration House" previously mentioned there is a secret
passage in the wall of an upper room; but though the Merry Monarch
is, according to popular tradition, credited with a monopoly of
hiding-places all over England, it is more than doubtful whether
he had recourse to these exploits, in which he was so successful
in 1651, upon such a joyful occasion, except, indeed, through
sheer force of habit.
Even Cromwell's name is connected with hiding-places! But it
is difficult to conjecture upon what occasions his Excellency
found it convenient to secrete himself, unless it was in his
later days, when he went about in fear of assassination.
Hale House, Islington, pulled down in 1853, had a concealed recess
behind the wainscot over the mantel-piece, formed by the curve
of the chimney. In this, tradition says, the Lord Protector was
hidden. Nor is this the solitary instance, for a dark hole in
one of the gable ends of Cromwell House, Mortlake (taken down in
1860), locally known as "Old Noll's Hole," is said to have afforded
him temporary accommodation when his was life in danger.[1] The
residence of his son-in-law Ireton (Cromwell House) at Highgate
contained a large secret chamber at the back of a cupboard in
one of the upper rooms, and extended back twelve or fourteen
feet, but the cupboard has now been removed and the space at the
back converted into a passage.
[Footnote 1: See Faulkner's _History of Islington_.]
The ancient manor house of Armscot, in an old-world corner of
Worcestershire, contains in one of its gables a hiding-place
entered through a narrow opening in the plaster wall, not unlike
that at Ufton Court, and capable of holding many people. From the
fact that George Fox was arrested in this house on October 17th,
1673, when he was being persecuted by the county magistrates, the
story has come down to the yokels of the neighbourhood that "old
Guy Fawkes, the first Quaker," was hidden here! In his journal Fox
mentions his arrest at Armscot after a "very large and precious
meeting" in the barn close by; but we have no allusion to the
hiding-place, for he appears to have been sitting in the parlour
when Henry Parker, the Justice, arrived--indeed, George Fox was
not the sort of man to have recourse to concealments, and owe
his escape to a "priest's hole."
The suggestion of a sudden reverse in religious persecution driving
a Quaker to such an extremity calls to mind an old farmstead
where a political change from monarchy to commonwealth forced
Puritan and cavalier consecutively to seek refuge in the secret
chamber. This narrow hiding-place, beside the spacious fire-place,
is pointed out in an ancient house in the parish of Hinchford,
in Eastern Essex.
Even the notorious Judge Jeffreys had in his house facilities
for concealment and escape. His old residence in Delahay Street,
Westminster, demolished a few years ago, had its secret panel
in the wainscoting, but in what way the cruel Lord Chancellor
made use of it does not transpire; possibly it may have been
utilised at the time of James II.'s flight from Whitehall.
A remarkable discovery was made early in the last century at the
Elizabethan manor house of Bourton-on-the-Water, Gloucestershire,
only a portion of which remains incorporated in a modern structure.
Upon removing some of the wallpaper of a passage on the second
floor, the entrance to a room hitherto unknown was laid bare. It
was a small apartment about eight feet square, and presented the
appearance as if some occupant had just quitted it. A chair and
a table within, each bore evidence of the last inmate. Over the
back of the former hung a priest's black cassock, carelessly flung
there a century or more ago, while on the table stood an antique
tea-pot, cup, and silver spoon, the very tea leaves crumbled to
dust with age. On the same storey were two rooms known as "the
chapel" and the "priest's room," the names of which signify the
former use of the concealed apartment.
Sir Walter Scott records a curious "find," similar in many respects
to that at Bourton. In the course of some structural alterations to
an ancient house near Edinburgh three unknown rooms were brought to
light, bearing testimony of their last inmate. One of them had been
occupied as a bedroom. The clothing of the bed was disarranged,
as if it had been slept in only a few hours previously, and close
by was an antique dressing-gown. How interesting it would be to
know some particulars of the sudden surprise which evidently
drove the owner of the garment from his snug quarters--whether
he effected his escape, or whether he was captured! The walls
of this buried chamber, if they could speak, had some curious
story to relate.
Not many years ago the late squire of East Hendred House, Berkshire,
discovered the existence of a secret chamber in casually glancing
over some ancient papers belonging to the house. "The little
room," as it was called, from its proximity to the chapel, had
no doubt been turned to good account during the penal laws of
Elizabeth's reign, as the chamber itself and other parts of the
house date from a much earlier period.
Long after the palatial Sussex mansion of Cowdray was burnt down,
the habitable remains (the keeper's lodge, in the centre of the
park) contained an ingenious hiding-place behind a fireplace in
a bedroom, which was reached by a movable panel in a cupboard,
communicating with the roof by a slender flight of steps. It
was very high, reaching up two storeys, but extremely narrow,
so much so that directly opposite a stone bench which stood in
a recess for a seat, the wall was hollowed out to admit of the
knees. When this secret chamber was discovered, it contained an
iron chair, a quaint old brass lamp, and some manuscripts of
the Montague family. The Cowdray tradition says that the fifth
Viscount was concealed in this hiding-place for a considerable
period, owing to some dark crime he is supposed to have committed,
though he was generally believed to have fled abroad. Secret
nocturnal interviews took place between Lord Montague and his
wife in "My Lady's Walk," an isolated spot in Cowdray Park. The
Montagues, now extinct, are said to have been very chary with
reference to their Roman Catholic forefathers, and never allowed
the secret chamber to be shown.[1]
[Footnote 1: See _History of a Great English House_.]
A weird story clings to the ruins of Minster Lovel Manor House,
Oxfordshire, the ancient seat of the Lords Lovel. After the battle
of Stoke, Francis, the last Viscount, who had sided with the
cause of Simnel against King Henry VII., fled back to his house
in disguise, but from the night of his return was never seen or
heard of again, and for nearly two centuries his disappearance
remained a mystery. In the meantime the manor house had been
dismantled and the remains tenanted by a farmer; but a strange
discovery was made in the year 1708. A concealed vault was found,
and in it, seated before a table, with a prayer-book lying open
upon it, was the entire skeleton of a man. In the secret chamber
were certain barrels and jars which had contained food sufficient
to last perhaps some weeks; but the mansion having been seized
by the King, soon after the unfortunate Lord Lovel is supposed
to have concealed himself, the probability is that, unable to
regain his liberty, the neglect or treachery of a servant or
tenant brought about this tragic end.
A discovery of this nature was made in 1785 in a hidden vault
at the foot of a stone staircase at Brandon Hall, Suffolk.
Kingerby Hall, Lincolnshire, has a ghostly tradition of an
unfortunate occupant of the hiding-hole near a fireplace being
intentionally fastened in so that he was stifled with the heat and
smoke; the skeleton was found years afterwards in this horrible
death-chamber.
Bayons Manor, in the same county, has some very curious arrangements
for the sake of secretion and defence. There is a room in one of
the barbican towers occupying its entire circumference, but so
effectually hidden that its existence would never be suspected.
In two of the towers are curious concealed stairs, and approaching
"the Bishop's Tower" from the outer court or ballium, part of
a flight of steps can be raised like a drawbridge to prevent
sudden intrusion.[1]
[Footnote 1: See Burke's _Visitation of Seats_, vol. i.]
A contributor to that excellent little journal _The Rambler_,
unfortunately now extinct, mentions another very strange and
weird device for security. "In the state-room of my castle,"
says the owner of this death-trap, "is the family shield, which
on a part being touched, revolves, and a flight of steps becomes
visible. The first, third, fifth, and all odd steps are to be
trusted, but to tread any of the others is to set in motion some
concealed machinery which causes the staircase to collapse,
disclosing a vault some seventy feet in depth, down which the
unwary are precipitated."
At Tyttenhanger House, Hertfordshire, and in the old manor house
of Newport, Isle of Wight (where the captive King Charles I.
spent some of his last melancholy days), there are rooms with
passages in the walls running completely round them. Similar
passages were found some years ago while making alterations to
Highclere Castle Hampshire.
The once magnificent Madeley Court, Salop[1] (now, alas! in the
last stage of desolation and decay, surrounded by coal-fields and
undermined by pits), is honeycombed with places for concealment
and escape. A ruinous apartment at the top of the house, known
as "the chapel" (only a few years ago wainscoted to the ceiling
and divided by fine old oak screen), contained a secret chamber
behind one of the panels. This could be fastened on the inside by
a strong bolt. The walls of the mansion are of immense thickness,
and the recesses and nooks noticeable everywhere were evidently at
one time places of concealment; one long triangular recess extends
between two ruinous chambers (mere skeletons of past grandeur),
and was no doubt for the purpose of reaching the basement from
the first floor other than by the staircases. In the upper part
of the house a dismal pit or well extends to the ground level,
where it slants off in an oblique direction below the building,
and terminates in a large pool or lake, after the fashion of
that already described at Baddesley Clinton, in Warwickshire.
[Footnote 1: This house must not be confused with "the Upper House,"
connected with Charles II.'s wanderings.]
Everything points to the former magnificence of this mansion;
the elaborate gate-house, the handsome stone porch, and even
the colossal sundial, which last, for quaint design, can hold
its own with those of the greatest baronial castles in Scotland.
The arms of the Brooke family are to be seen emblazoned on the
walls, a member of whom, Sir Basil, was he who christened the
hunting-lodge of the Giffards "Boscobel," from the Italian words
"bos co bello," on account of its woody situation. It is long
since the Brookes migrated from Madeley--now close upon two
centuries.
The deadly looking pits occasionally seen in ancient buildings
are dangerous, to say the least of it. They may be likened to
the shaft of our modern lift, with the car at the bottom and
nothing above to prevent one from taking a step into eternity!
A friend at Twickenham sends us a curious account of a recent
exploration of what was once the manor house, "Arragon Towers."
We cannot do better than quote his words, written in answer to a
request for particulars. "I did not," he says, "make sufficient
examination of the hiding-place in the old manor house of Twickenham
to give a detailed description of it, and I have no one here
whom I could get to accompany me in exploring it now. It is not
a thing to do by one's self, as one might make a false step,
and have no one to assist in retrieving it. The entrance is in
the top room of the one remaining turret by means of a movable
panel in the wall opposite the window. The panel displaced, you
see the top of a thick wall (almost on a line with the floor of
the room). The width of the aperture is, I should think, nearly
three feet; that of the wall-top about a foot and a half; the
remaining space between the wall-top and the outer wall of the
house is what you might perhaps term 'a chasm'--it is a sheer
drop to the cellars of the house. I was told by the workmen that
by walking the length of the wall-top (some fifteen feet) I should
reach a stairway conducting to the vaults below, and that on
reaching the bottom, a passage led off in the direction of the
river, the tradition being that it actually went beneath the
river to Ham House."