next to the Picture Gallery. The walls of the former are hung with
portraits, among which are many of exceeding interest, including those
of heroes, statesmen, kings and queens, church reformers, and poets,
mingled without regard to date or order. At the end of this gallery
are, branching to the right and left, the private apartments of the
family; and in a room opening out of the west end of the Picture
Gallery, Queen Elizabeth is reported to have slept when she honoured
the Lord Cobham with a visit during her progress through Kent. In the
centre of the ancient ceiling are still preserved her arms, with the
date, 1599. The Picture Gallery is the great “show-room” of the house.
It is a noble apartment, the walls of which are covered with works
of Art, of rare value and unsurpassed excellence, the productions of
nearly all the great masters of Italy—including admirable examples
of Guido, Titian, Salvator Rosa, Rubens, Raphael, Spagnoletto, P.
Veronese, Giorgione, N. Poussin, and Guercino.
Every part of the venerable edifice contains, indeed, some object of
interest. The rooms, and halls, and galleries are thronged with rare
and beautiful works of Art; a series of perfect vases from Herculaneum
lie on the tables of the Picture Gallery; several antique busts and
statues line the hall; a magnificent bath, of red Egyptian granite,
is placed in the entrance passage; and the furniture and interior
decorations are all of corresponding excellence and beauty.
Although necessarily limited in our description of Cobham Hall, we
have sufficiently shown the rare treat a visit to it will afford those
who, “in populous city pent,” desire to convert occasional holidays
into contributions to intellectual enjoyment. The Hall and its contents
will amply repay examination; and the noble park is full of natural
treasures—thronged with deer, singularly abundant in singing birds,
and containing trees unsurpassed in magnificent size and graceful
proportions. A group of these trees, known as “the Three Sisters”
(why we cannot say), we have engraved. One of the walks conducts to
a hillock, from the summit of which there is a splendid prospect of
the adjacent country, commanding views of the Thames and Medway, and
taking in the venerable castle, cathedral, and town of Rochester, the
dockyards at Sheerness, and the whole course of the great English river
to its mouth at the Nore. The pedestrian, pursuing this route, will
pass the Mausoleum, an elegant structure, built conformably with the
will of the third Earl of Darnley, and designed for the sepulture of
his family. It was never consecrated.
But Cobham has other objects of interest: the venerable Church, and
no less venerable “College.” The “CHURCH,” dedicated to St. Mary
Magdalen, stands upon elevated ground at the entrance of the village.
It consists of a nave, aisles, and chancel, with an embattled tower,
entered by an antique porch. The tower is obviously of a more recent
date than the chancel; the former is very ancient. As in many of the
Kentish churches, the walls were formerly painted in fresco, of which
evidence may be easily obtained by those who examine them narrowly;
the steps of the altar are paved with encaustic tiles, of about the
period of Edward III., of various patterns, but most of them containing
the _fleur-de-lis_. The whole aspect of the place indeed supplies
indubitable proof of very remote antiquity. It has been recently
restored, but with sound judgment and skill, by the accomplished
architect, Sir Gilbert Scott, R.A.
[Illustration: _Interior of the Church._]
The roof of huge oak rafters, the Gothic arches, the brasses, broken
and entire, which cover the floor, the quaint monuments let into the
walls, the delicately-sculptured piscina, the sedilia of carved stone,
the singular font, the rude vestry-room with its massive oak chest, the
Scripture passages painted on the walls, all bespeak the antiquity of
the building.
“Nearly in the centre is the still beautiful tomb of Sir Thomas Broke,
the Lady Joan, and their ten sons and four daughters. It is of white
marble, over which, upon a black slab, lie the effigies of the knight
and dame. On either side are those of five of their sons, kneeling, and
wearing tabards, with their swords girded on. The figures of the four
daughters are carved on the east and west ends of the superb monument.
It bears the date 1561, under the arms of the Brokes quartered with
those of the Cobhams.
“On the floor of the chancel are the famous ‘Cobham Brasses,’ the most
perfect and most numerous assemblage now existing in the kingdom. The
series consists of thirteen, recording the memory of the Cobhams and
Brokes, ‘lords and barons of this manor of Cobham, with many of their
kindred, who for many descents did flourish in honourable reputation.’
Of the thirteen, eight are in honour of the knights, and five are
memorials of the dames. These brasses, one and all, deserve the most
careful examination and notice. The earliest is to the memory of _John
de Cobham_, the first Knight Banneret, and Constable of Rochester;
he is dressed in a shirt of mail: round his waist is a rich girdle,
sustaining a long sword. Eight lines of Norman French are inscribed
round the verge of the slab. The others are to _Maude, Lady Cobham_
(1370), probably wife of Baron Cobham, who was Warden of the Cinque
Ports in the time of Edward III., who is represented with a dog at her
feet. Over her head are the words ‘Icy gist dame Maude de Cobham.’
_Maude, Lady Cobham_ (c. 1385) supposed to have been the wife of Thomas
de Cobham. She has a flounce of fur at the bottom of her dress. There
are the remains of a mutilated canopy over her, and a fragment of
inscription says, ‘Icy gist dame Maude de Cobehm qe....’ _Margaret,
Lady Cobham_ (1385), wife of John de Cobham, the founder of Cobham
College. This is a remarkably beautiful canopied brass; the finial of
the canopy bearing a figure of the Virgin and Child. Around the brass
is the inscription, ‘Isy gist dame Margarete de Cobeham, iadiis fille
a noble en le Comte de Deuenischire; feme le sire de Cobeham, foundour
de ... morust le secounde in dimoys D’agust lan de grace, MCCCLXXXV.,
lalme de qy deux eut mercy. Amen.’ _Joan, Lady Cobham_ (c. 1320), who
was daughter of John, Lord Beauchamp of Stoke-under-Hamden, and first
wife of Sir John de Cobham. The inscription, in Longobardic capitals,
is:—
“‘Dame Jone de Kobeham gist isi
Deus de sa alme eit merci
Kike pur le Alme Priera
Quaraunte jours de pardoun avera.’”
_Reginald de Cobham_ (c. 1420), an ecclesiastic, under a triple canopy,
the shaft and some other portions being lost. _Sir Thomas de Cobham_, a
knight in mixed armour, 1367.
[Illustration: _The College Porch._]
_Ralph de Cobham_, 1405, a semi-effigy in armour, holding in his hands
a tablet, bearing the inscription in old English characters. _John de
Cobham_, the founder of the College, bearing in his hands the model
of a church. _John Broke_ and _Lady Margaret_ his wife, under a rich
canopy with pendants and other ornaments, with triangular compartments,
containing circles with shields, one of which bears the crown of
thorns, and the other the five wounds; between the pinnacles, in the
centre, is a curious representation of the Trinity, in which the Deity
is delineated with a triple crown, and the Holy Spirit has a human
face. The figure of the knight is gone, but that of his lady remains;
and beneath are groups of eight sons and ten daughters. _Sir Reginald
Braybroke_, the second husband of Joan, Lady Cobham. _Sir Nicholas
Hauberk_, her third husband. _Joan de Cobham_: she died, as appears
from the inscription, ‘on the day of St. Hilary the Bishop, A.D.
1433.’ At her feet are six sons and four daughters; and surrounding
her, are six escutcheons of the Cobham arms and alliances. _Sir Thomas
Broke_ and one of his three wives. Below them are seven sons and five
daughters. Sir Thomas died 1529.”
“The COLLEGE of Cobham” is now only a collection of almshouses, to
which presentations are made—of old people, without restriction to
either sex—as vacancies occur, by the parish and ten other parishes
adjacent. It lies immediately south of the church, and is entered
by a small Gothic gateway. Its occupants are twenty aged men and
women, who have each a little dwelling, with a neat garden and an
allowance monthly, sufficient to secure the necessaries of life. It
is a quadrangular building, of stone, measuring about 60 feet by 50;
and contains a large hall, with painted windows, a roof of blackened
rafters, an old oak screen, and a fire-place of cut stone. The history
of the college is curious and interesting. A college or chantry was
originally founded here, about the year 1362, by John de Cobham, thence
called “the founder,” in the reign of Edward III. In the Church is a
brass to the memory of William Tanner, Master of the College, who died
in 1418. The brass consists of a half-length of the master, in clerical
costume, with the inscription in black letter:—“Hic jacet Willmus
Tannere qui prim obiit magister istuis Collegii xxii. die mensis
Junii Anno Dni. M°CCCC°XVIII. cujus anime propicietur deus Amen.”
Towards the end of the reign of Elizabeth it was rebuilt, as appears
by a record—“finished in September 1598”—inscribed over the south
portal, under the arms and alliances of the Brokes, Lords Cobham. The
endowments of the old foundation were ample, and were, with the college
itself, bestowed by Henry VIII., at the dissolution, upon George, Lord
Cobham, who had the “king’s roiall assent and licence by hys grace’s
word, with any manner of letters patent or other writings, to purchase
and receyve to his heires for ever, of the late master and brethren, of
the college or chauntry of Cobham, in the countie of Kent, now being
utterly dissolved, the scite of the same colledge or chauntry, and al
and singular their heridaments and possessions, as well temporall as
ecclesiasticall, wheresoever they lay, or were, within the realm of
England.” The walls of the ancient college may be clearly traced, and a
small portion still endures, comparatively uninjured. It is a gateway,
surmounted by the arms of the Cobhams, luxuriantly overgrown with ivy,
forming a fine example of picturesque antiquity. The present structure
was erected pursuant to the will of Sir William Broke, Lord Cobham,
who devised “all those edifices, ruined buildings, soil and ground,
with the appurtenances which some time belonged to the late suppressed
college for the use of the ‘new’ college.” By an act of the 39th of
Elizabeth, the wardens of Rochester Bridge for the time being were made
a body corporate, and declared perpetual presidents of the new college,
the government of which they retain to this day.
[Illustration: _The College._]
The dependent village of Cobham is one of the neatest and most
pleasant of the fair villages of Kent. There are, no doubt, many
nobler and more perfect examples of the domestic architecture of “old”
England than is supplied by Cobham Hall, but it would be difficult to
direct attention to any that affords so rich a recompense at so small
a cost; taking into account its genuine remains of antiquity, the
magnificent works of Art that decorate its walls, its easy access from
the metropolis, and the primitive character and surpassing beauty of
the locality in which it is situated.
MOUNT EDGCUMBE.
[Illustration]
WE cannot say in what month these details will be read, but they are
written on a morning of May, in one of the loveliest spots of the
fairest of our English shires: a mild and genial day of mid-spring—
“The soote season that bud and blome forth brings;”
when the apple orchards—prides of Devon—are in full blossom; the
hawthorns have donned their snow-white draperies; the gorse its garment
of gold; and every hedgerow is rich in the hundred hues of flowers
that herald summer: while all the hill-slopes and meadows, “in verdure
clad,” seem rejoicing over the prospective abundance that Nature
promises to healthy toil. We have passed through the fifty-three miles
that separate Exeter from Plymouth. It would be hard to find in any
part of the world, in equal space, a road so lavishly endowed with
gifts of the fertile and the beautiful. Part of the way by the open
sea, then by estuaries, then by the banks of broad rivers, then by
narrow and rapid streams, then under the shadows of tree-clad hills,
green from base to summit, with frequent views of prosperous towns and
happy villages, with venerable churches continually showing their tall
spires above the tree-tops—in thoroughly rural England, far from the
tall chimneys and dense atmosphere that betoken manufactures and their
results—the railway runs through many scenes of surpassing loveliness,
any one of which might tempt the traveller who is in search of either
health or pleasure, with assurance of an ample supply of both.
The GREAT WESTERN conveys us from Paddington to Exeter. We leave
Exeter by the South Devon Railway (proverbially well managed, in
all respects): it may take us to Penzance; but its great station is
midway, at Plymouth, where has been recently erected for the especial
accommodation of railway travellers and tourists, an admirable
hotel (the Duke of Cornwall—there is none more comfortable in the
kingdom).[11] Here we arrest the tourist, in order to visit the
promontory of Mount Edgcumbe, that occupies one side of the famous
harbour.
First, however, let us glance at the several points of interest that
claim our attention _en route_. Leaving Exeter and its many attractions
other than its renowned Cathedral, we first reach the marine village of
Starcross, opposite to which are old Topsham (full of memories of our
own boyhood, when “a stranger yet to pain”), and young Exmouth; stately
villas and pretty cottages occupy slopes of the hill range. Then, at
Dawlish, a graceful village, we front the sea, and pass some singular
rocks of red sandstone, that stand like sentinels along the shore—and
here, it may be well to note, some extraordinary inroads upon the
sea-wall of the railway have lately been made by the ocean—Teignmouth
and Shaldon come next, towns on both sides of the river Teign,
connected by a narrow wooden bridge more than a quarter of a mile in
length. We next arrive at Newton Junction, where a railway branch
conducts to Torquay and Dartmouth; soon afterwards Totnes is reached,
an old town on the Dart, one of the most beautiful of all the rivers in
Devonshire, whence a steamboat issues daily to visit Dartmouth. Here
we have left the sea, and have only in view rich pasture land—ever
green, the hills tree-clad to their topmost heights. Passing Brent and
Kingsbridge Stations, Ivy Bridge next comes in sight, a deep dell, over
which a viaduct passes: a dell of singular beauty, one of the finest in
all Devonshire. Soon we pass Cornwood and Plympton,—the latter famous
as the birthplace of Sir Joshua Reynolds,—and, skirting the Plym,
enter Plymouth.
The eye is at once arrested by a sylvan spot, running out into the sea,
beyond the docks, and their manifold adjuncts; a mass of greenery,
unbroken except by trees of varied foliage, that rise continually in
groups, from all parts of the promontory that, thus seen, seems an
island.
The admiral of the “Invincible” Armada had taste, at least, in fixing
upon Mount Edgcumbe as his dwelling-place, when settled in the country
he was “about” to conquer. God’s providence gave the invader a
different locality; and the beautiful domain continues to be, as it was
then, the home of the family of the Edgcumbes, now earls of “that ilk.”
Mount Edgcumbe is in Cornwall; but until recently it was a part of
Devonshire; the Act of Parliament that removed it from one county to
the other dating no further back than 1854. But Acts of Parliament have
done other wonders in this district, for it was only in 1824 that an
act was passed giving to the town of “Plymouth Dock,”—or, as it was
then generally called, “Dock,”—the new and more pretentious name which
it now holds of _Devonport_. The “Mount” is about half a mile across
the bay which divides it from the now “united” towns of Devonport,
Stonehouse, and Plymouth, which, together, contain a population of
150,000 “souls.” From any of the adjacent heights, especially the Hoe
at Plymouth, we obtain a glorious view of the road-stead—fortified
everywhere. In mid-distance is seen the Breakwater, one of the
marvels of engineering art; and far off, yet within view, the famous
lighthouse—the Eddystone, some fourteen miles from the nearest shore.
Between these objects and the port are, at all times, many ships of the
navy: they rule the waves of ocean in the seas that encircle earth;
and Plymouth will be especially glorified when the triumphs of British
sailors, from the admiral to the able seaman, supply subjects of
discourse.
The Breakwater, one of the most gigantic works in the kingdom, lies in
Plymouth Sound, where it forms a line between Bovisand Bay on the east,
and Cawsand Bay on the west. It is about three miles from Plymouth,
and is a mile in length. In form it is a straight line, with a kant or
arm at each end, branching off towards the shore. At its eastern end
a clear passage between it and the Bovisand shore of about a mile in
width is left for ships, while at the western end the passage is about
a mile and a half in width. The idea of the Breakwater originated with
Earl St. Vincent in 1806, and Mr. Rennie and Mr. Whidbey surveyed the
Sound for the purpose. In 1811 the plan was decided upon. The first
stone was deposited on the birthday of the Prince Regent (afterwards
George IV.), 1812. In 1817, and again in 1824, much damage was done
to the progressing work. The quantity of stone used in its formation
is estimated at about four millions of tons, exclusive of about
two millions and a half of tons of granite and other stones used
for paving, facings, &c. At the east end is a beacon, and at the
west end a lighthouse 60 feet high. The spirited engraving of this
gigantic undertaking, which we here give, is taken from Mr. Jewitt’s
recently published “History of Plymouth,” where it forms one of many
illustrations. The view, as will be seen, is a kind of bird’s-eye, and
shows the form of the Breakwater, with its new central fort and its
lighthouse and beacon.
[Illustration: _Plymouth Breakwater._]
The Eddystone Lighthouse, in the English Channel, is fourteen miles
from Plymouth, from which town its light is distinctly visible under
favourable atmospheric circumstances. It is erected on one of the
Eddystone rocks, probably so called from the eddies, or whirls, which
surround them. The rocks themselves are completely covered at high
tide. The first attempt to erect a lighthouse on these rocks was made
by Mr. Winstanley in 1696. This was completed in about four years,
but was washed away in a hurricane. In 1706 a new lighthouse, for
which an Act of Parliament had been passed, was begun to be erected
by Mr. John Rudyerd, silk mercer, of London, who was of the famous
family of Rudyerd, of Rudyerd, in the county of Stafford, and a man
of considerable engineering and architectural skill. He, wishing to
profit by experience, determined that as the former lighthouse had
been angular, his should be round, and that as it was mainly of stone
his should be of wood. In 1709 Rudyerd’s lighthouse was completed, and
gave promise of being a great success. Years passed on, storms rose,
the waves dashed over and around it wildly, but it remained firm and
unshaken even through the dreadful tempest of 1744. What wind and
water could not do, was, however, soon after fearfully accomplished
by fire—the lighthouse being burned down in 1755. Immediately after
this Mr. Smeaton undertook the task of erecting a new lighthouse
of stone. This, the present Eddystone Lighthouse, was commenced in
1756 and completed in 1759. In construction it is the most complete
example of architectural and engineering skill. The lower part is
solid throughout, being literally as firm as the rock itself, on which
it is immovably and permanently fixed. The stones are all dovetailed
together, so that, in reality, it becomes but one stone throughout. In
the upper portion, which is equally strong, the rooms and staircase
take up the hollow centre. The lantern is octagonal. This building,
which has given to the name of Smeaton an imperishable fame, bears on
its granite cornice the truly appropriate inscription:—“Except the
Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it. Psalm cxxvii.
1;” and over the lantern, “24th August, 1759. Laus Deo.” Of this we
give an engraving on our initial letter on page 54.
But we have a theme that demands all the space we can give—MOUNT
EDGCUMBE, and that other seat of the ancient family, COTHELE.
For Mount Edgcumbe art has done little; but it was here unnecessary
for art to do much: like some women, whose charms of expression and
perfect “loveliness” do not seem to require beauty, this delicious
peninsula has been so richly gifted by Nature, that, perhaps, efforts
to enhance its attractions might have lessened instead of augmenting
them. Hill and dell, heights and hollows, pasture slopes and rugged
hillocks, succeed each other with a delicious harmony we have rarely
seen elsewhere. On one side of the bay are the three busy towns,
active with energetic life; on another are the cultivated hill-sides
of productive Devon; on another is the open sea, with the two objects
we have noted—the Breakwater and the marvellous Eddystone. Everywhere
Nature has had its own sweet will; even the laurel hedges have risen
thirty feet in height; the lime trees grow as if they had never been
trimmed; while the slopes, from the hill-heights to the sea-rocks,
appear as sheen as if the scythe had been perpetually smoothing them.
Here and there, pretty and pleasant shelters have been provided for
visitors who throng hither for health and relaxation;[12] “look
out” seats are provided on many of the hill-tops; and the deer and
the rabbits have free pasturage in the noble Park that occupies a
space of many hundred acres between the harbour and the sea. Nor may
we forget the “defences” of the peninsula: the battery that would
here, as elsewhere, “keep the foreigner from fooling us,” and that
battery called “the Salute,” in which the huge “Armstrongs” are
hidden, but where may be seen, by all on-lookers, twenty-one mounted
cannon—“prizes” from ships of “the enemy” taken during the war with
France.
[Illustration: _Mount Edgcumbe, from Stonehouse Pier._]
All, therefore, is not left to Nature. Nor must we forget the gardens:
prettily laid out; enriched by rare trees, with vases and statues
judiciously intermixed; and, especially, a grove of orange trees, with
several summer-houses in pleasant nooks, where cedars, magnolias, cork
trees, and other trees, supply shade and shelter from rain and sun.
Art has here been aiding Nature, but its influence is felt rather than
seen; those to whom the “grounds” owe much seem to have been ever
mindful that their profuse and natural luxuriance needed few checks
of the pruner and trainer. The name of one of these benefactors is
recorded—a votive urn contains a tablet to the memory of that countess
“whose taste embellished these retreats, herself their brightest
ornament”—Countess Sophia, who could not have found on earth a home
more lovely than that which, in 1806, she was called to leave for one
still more perfect and more beautiful.
The great charm of Mount Edgcumbe, however, consists in the five-mile
drive through the Park, along a road that everywhere skirts the harbour
or the sea. It is perpetual hill and dell; a mimic ruin, intended
as a view tower, and answering its purpose well, is the only object
remarkable on the higher grounds, if we except the church—Maker
Church—neither venerable nor picturesque, but containing many
interesting memorials of the Edgcumbe family;[13] but down in the dales
(in nearly all of them) are the pretty “lodges,” where the keepers and
gardeners reside, and where simple “refreshments” of milk and hot water
are provided for the crowds who are weekly visitors to the domain. One
of these we have pictured on page 64.