recent growth and importance. Berlin, Madrid, The Hague, and St.
Petersburg fill little or no space in the mediæval history of their
respective states, while Vienna and Brussels have been promoted from a
humbler position. Rome, London, Paris, and Lisbon may, however, claim
that exalted status which accrues only to the city that has been for
centuries the centre of the national life. Such a position inevitably
leaves its mark on the civic architecture, which, however, has been too
often expunged and obliterated by the varying fashions and fortunes
of more modern times. Thus it happens that London devastated by the
great fire, Lisbon by the earthquake, and Paris, to a less extent, by
the revolutionary changes of recent times, retain comparatively few
of the concrete monuments of their great past, and even Rome herself
is a memorial rather of the Renaissance than of the Middle Age. It
is not surprising, then, that in the great palatine fortress of the
Tower, London possesses a building, standing as it does largely intact,
which is almost without a parallel amongst the European capitals. The
mediæval military architecture of England generally can hardly be said
to approach, far less to rival, that of the Continent, for the more
settled condition and greater cohesion of the English state rendered
these huge defensive works unnecessary. Scores of English castles have
no recorded siege, and comparatively few of the English towns, save
those on the Scotch and Welsh borders and on the coast towards France,
were defended by walls. Nevertheless the fortress projected by the
Conqueror and built by his successor is perhaps the most important
example of military architecture which the country affords, and an
attempt to explain its origin and growth will not be without interest.
The Norman Conquest found London defended on the landward side by its
Roman walls, repaired in Saxon times, and by the remains of the wall,
also of Roman date, along the river front. These walls were protected
at intervals by semi-circular bastions more or less regularly spaced,
the positions of many of which are shown on Ogilby and Morgan’s survey
of the city taken in 1677. The south-eastern angle of the area thus
enclosed was the site chosen by the early Norman kings for their new
fortress, which was to overawe and keep in check the London citizens.
It has long been a matter for some surprise that, with the exception
of the White Tower or Keep and the basement of the Wakefield Tower, no
trace of Norman work exists in any other part of the fortress, all the
remaining towers and walls being of more recent date. The explanation
of the circumstance which I here offer appears to me, from its very
simplicity, to contain all the elements of probability.
[Illustration: FIG. 12.—PLAN OF TOWER AND ROMAN WALL.
_Drawn by Alfred W. Clapham._]
[Illustration: FIG. 13.—PLAN OF TOWER AND ITS BASTIONS.
_Drawn by Alfred W. Clapham._]
[Illustration: FIG. 14.—TOWERS ON EASTERN WALL.
_Photograph by Architectural Review._]
At the date of the building of the White Tower the Roman wall at this
angle was probably standing intact, and the Norman builders determined
to incorporate a portion of it in the defences of the castle. The
course of the Roman wall on the east side of the city is well known,
but the position of the southern or river front has been the subject
of much conjecture. The existing evidence is, however, in my opinion,
sufficient to establish this, at any rate with regard to the south-east
angle. The mediæval building known as the Wardrobe Tower, of which a
portion still remains standing, has been proved to stand on the base
of a Roman bastion. The line of the still existing city wall between
Aldgate and the Tower Ditch when produced southwards exactly strikes
this point, and a portion of its base adjoining the tower has been
uncovered. The lines of this fragment, however, prove that from here
the wall turned slightly and headed in a direct line for the centre of
the modern Lanthorn Tower, which stands partly on the foundations of
its predecessor destroyed in the eighteenth century. From this there
seems little doubt that the Lanthorn, like the Wardrobe Tower, was
built on the base of a Roman bastion. Now, the bastions to the north
and south of Aldgate shown on Ogilby’s map of London are spaced about
200 ft. apart, which is approximately the distance between the Wardrobe
and Lanthorn Towers. The wall must of necessity have turned at this
point, and the same dimension set off on a line running parallel to the
river gives the positions in succession of the Wakefield, the Bell,
and the northern bastion of the Middle Tower. It seems, then, almost
more than probable that we have here the river line of the Roman wall
and the position of the first four bastions on its southern face. It
may be further noted that all four towers are in perfect alignment,
and that each of them is or was of circular form. The Norman builders
probably found some of these towers still standing with the wall
between them, and constructed their Keep as near as possible to the
eastern line, without disturbing it, and leaving a considerable space
on the south side between it and the southern wall. By this proceeding
they obtained a bailey ready made enclosed on the north by the Keep
and on the east and south by the Roman wall and the bastions which
later became the Wardrobe, Lanthorn, and Wakefield Towers. All that was
needed to complete the defences was a protection on the western side,
and this was temporarily provided by a wooden stockade, the remains
of which were brought to light some years ago. Subsequently a great
gatehouse, called “Coldharbour,” and a strong curtain were erected on
its site. These buildings formed the whole extent of the early castle,
which was probably isolated by the destruction of a portion of the city
wall immediately outside its limits. There is no evidence that its
defences included either a fosse or mound, and thus two of the most
characteristic features of Norman castle-building were absent.
It may seem improbable that buildings still standing in the twentieth
century should have retained the exact positions, through successive
rebuildings, of their Roman predecessors; but the more one studies
the features of London topography the more one is struck by the
extraordinary persistence of ancient building lines. To mention two
instances only: the modern warehouse on the site of the old Barbers’
Hall in Monkwell Street reproduces exactly the lines of the Roman
bastion which formed its western termination, and the Apothecaries’
Hall in Blackfriars represents exactly, in position and dimensions, the
hall of the guest-house where the Emperor Charles V. lodged during his
visit to London in 1522.
The great Keep of the Tower of London, in spite of the unfortunate
repairs and alterations of Sir Christopher Wren, must always remain
amongst the finest examples of its class in the country. If it does
not cover so much ground as Colchester, and is less lofty than
Rochester, it possesses, in the Chapel of St. John, a feature which
is unapproached by any other Norman keep in the country; and here,
fortunately, the structure has been left largely in its original state.
The chapel at Colchester, which occupies the same relative position, is
also apsidal, but at the Tower alone is found the encircling ambulatory
and the aisled nave. In the stages beneath the chapel are two crypts,
the lower a gloomy vault, with massive walls and barrel roof, which
carries the mind back irresistibly to the early days of Norman rule.
The many writers on the Tower have found themselves unable to identify
the original entrance to the Keep, but once the early arrangement of
the castle is understood its position becomes quite obvious. In the
western bay on the south side, at the first-floor level, is a large
arched opening with a small niche cut in the thickness of the wall on
either side; this, now fitted with a modern window, is the original
door. It was approached by an external and probably roofed staircase
from the bailey, all trace of which is now lost. A similar arrangement
is found in most of the existing keep-towers of this period, the
examples at Newcastle and Rising (Norfolk) being perhaps the best
preserved.
The first great enlargement of the Tower probably took place in the
latter half of the twelfth century, when the great ditch was begun,
and the western half of the inner circle of fortifications projected,
which eventually transformed the castle from the early keep-and-bailey
type to the concentric form which it afterwards assumed. Here again
the position of the Roman city wall appears to have played a part, for
this enlargement consisted of that part only of the later fortress
which was within its limits, bounded outwardly by the Bell, Devereux,
and Bowyer Towers. The great ditch was begun by Longchamp, Bishop of
Ely and regent of the kingdom during the absence of Richard I.; but the
buildings—the curtain with its towers—appear to be of slightly later
date. It is evident from the remarks of Fitzstephen (_temp._ Henry
II.) that at this date the southern wall of the city was in great part
undermined and castdown by the action of the tides, and consequently
the Bell Tower, though on its line, presents no more ancient features
above ground than the time of John. It is, however, an exceedingly
massive work, being built solid for a considerable height, and may well
incorporate in its base the remains of a Roman bastion.
The line of the inner circle of defence was completed under Henry
III., when the eastern half, without the ancient city wall, was added,
bounded by the Martin, Salt, and the intermediate towers. Most of the
existing towers were rebuilt under this king, with the exception of
those already noted, but many have been marred by nineteenth-century
restoration, and the Flint, Brick, and Constable’s Towers have been
almost entirely rebuilt. It may be noted (if our theory be correct)
that where the position of these towers was not determined by the
pre-existence of the Roman works they are spaced much closer together.
The first of the later towers on the east, the Salt, is comparatively
close to the Lanthorn, and the straight line of the southern Roman wall
is at once abandoned when nothing in the shape of old foundations could
assist the thirteenth-century builder.
King Henry III. was also responsible for the second and outer line
of fortifications, and for the construction of the Tower Wharf.
The former is on the east, north, and west sides, little more than
a revetment to the great ditch. It is pierced, however, with loops,
and two sally-ports are observable on the north front. On the river
front this line also was defended by towers, which include the great
water-gate called St. Thomas’s Tower.
There is little doubt that a great hall of timber existed in the inner
bailey in Norman times, but it was not until the thirteenth century
that the hall of stone was erected against its southern curtain. This
building has now entirely disappeared, and even in Elizabethan times it
was in a ruinous state. It abutted on the west against the Wakefield
Tower, and an idea of its appearance is given in the well-known
fifteenth-century view of the Tower. The upper stage of the Wakefield
Tower was rebuilt with it, and communicated by a short passage with the
dais end, forming a feature corresponding in some respects to the oriel
of purely domestic work. The deep embrasure of the eastern window forms
a small oratory—one of the many that the Tower formerly contained.
One of the most remarkable features of the fortress is the elaborate
system of defences guarding the entrance from the outside world. To
reach the Keep from Tower Hill it was necessary to pass through no
fewer than six gatehouses—the Bulwark and Lion Gates, the Middle and
Byward Towers, the Bloody Tower, and Coldharbour. The other entrances
included two water-gates, and a small postern and bridge on the eastern
side, protected by the Irongate and Develin Towers.
To Henry VIII. must be assigned the final important changes to the
building—the construction of the two great bastions on the north
face, now called Legge’s and Brass Mount. They appear in a view of
Edward VI.’s coronation procession, and can hardly be earlier than his
father’s time. The Lions’ Tower, now vanished, was a work of similar
character, so called from the small zoological collection kept there by
the later kings.
[Illustration: FIG. 15.—FIREPLACE, BYWARD TOWER.
_Photograph by Architectural Review._]
[Illustration: FIG. 16.—BLOUNT MONUMENT, ST. PETER AD VINCULA.
_Photograph by Architectural Review._]
Turning now, more particularly, to the architectural part of our
subject, it will be found that the towers on the inner and outer
circuit, which have not been rebuilt, present an infinite variety
of form and construction, and each of them retains some feature of
interest. The Bell Tower, besides its early vaulting, possesses a
charming early eighteenth-century bell-cote; the fifth gatehouse,
called the Bloody Tower, has remains of a richly-ribbed vault of the
fifteenth century and a massive portcullis of timber still in working
order. The great water-gate, called St. Thomas’s Tower or the Traitor’s
Gate, has its little hexagonal vaulted oratory, while the water-gate
of the Palace, called, for some reason unknown, the Cradle Tower, is,
where unrestored, an excellent example of fourteenth-century work with
a graceful vault springing from embattled corbels. The Salt Tower
contains an original thirteenth-century fireplace with a massive stone
hood and a curious joggled arch; the Well Tower, though small, contains
an early vault; and the Martin Tower, with its eighteenth-century
patchwork, has an appearance equally picturesque and venerable. The
Devereux Tower adjoins a large Tudor casemate of brick, and the
Beauchamp is well known for the tragic list of noble names cut upon its
walls of those whom ambition or misfortune led to their final resting
place in the little chapel near by.
The two outer gatehouses, called respectively the Middle and Byward
Towers, are worthy of careful study. Both are of similar form—an
entrance flanked by two circular bastions, the ground floors of which
have groined and ribbed vaults of the fourteenth century. In addition
to this the Byward Tower contains a fine early fireplace with a stone
hood not unlike that in the Salt Tower, but rather more ornate.
The inner face of this tower was transformed in Tudor times into a
dwelling-house, and its half-timber walls and mullioned windows are
still intact. Another example of Tudor domestic work is to be found
in “The King’s House,” the lodging of the Lieutenant of the Tower. A
succession of picturesque gables with enriched bargeboards looks on
to the green, made pleasant in summer by a number of trees—a scene of
peace and retirement which needs the ominous presence of the two Tower
ravens to recall the fact that this was the place of private execution.
Not the least interesting building in the Tower is the Chapel of St.
Peter ad Vincula. Quite apart from the overwhelming associations of
the place that enshrines the bones of queens and would-be kings, the
victims of Tudor despotism or Stuart spite, there is sufficient in the
building to demand attention on its architectural merit alone. One
monument, that of the Blounts, father and son, is of quite unusual
excellence. The mouldings and enrichments, and especially the carved
masks which ornament the frieze, are of almost Italian delicacy and
charm, while the pomp of heraldry in the many quartered shields adds
considerably to the richness of the design. The armed alabaster effigy
of Sir Richard Cholmeley, Lieutenant of the Tower under Henry VIII.,
stands near by, and is an excellent example of the period.
Two buildings of considerable merit were erected within the precincts
during the second half of the seventeenth century. The earliest in date
is the horse-armoury built by Sir Christopher Wren, and reputed to be
his first work in London. It still stands against the inner eastern
wall between the Salt and Broad-Arrow Towers, and while marked by a
suitable simplicity of design its proportions with the roof brought out
over a broad projecting cornice are admirable.
The Great Armoury, begun under James II., and completed in the time
of his successor, occupied the site of the modern barracks. It was a
large building with projecting wings, and an enriched façade with a
sculptured pediment in the centre. It was unfortunately destroyed by
fire in 1841, and nothing was saved with the exception of the carved
pediment adorned with the arms of William III., now built into a wall
on the eastern side of the Tower.
[Illustration: FIG. 17.—PEDIMENT WITH ARMS OF WILLIAM III.
_Photograph by Architectural Review._]
[Illustration: FIG. 18.—THE HORSE-ARMOURY.
_Photograph by Architectural Review._]
The modern history of the Tower is a long record of destruction and
misguided restoration, and its position has sunk to the level of a
show. To the average Londoner it ranks with the Zoo and the waxworks,
and he regards a visit to the Tower as one of those childish things
which he has long put away.
—A. W. C.
THE ROYAL PALACE
OF ELTHAM
[Illustration: FIG. 19.—THE HALL FROM THE SOUTH.
_Photograph by F. W. Nunn._]
IV.
THE ROYAL PALACE OF ELTHAM.
If Eltham Palace were not overshadowed by the close proximity of London
it would undoubtedly receive a greater share of public attention, and
the lordly buildings that were for long the favourite resort of our
kings would, if situated in a more distant county, attract as many
visitors as numerous less interesting buildings receive as a matter
of course year by year. Eltham, once a fair village of Kent, is now
becoming rapidly swallowed up in the ever-widening geographical
expression “the suburbs of London,” and in that unsympathetic
atmosphere it is almost as completely buried as is Pompeii beneath the
dust and lava of a volcano, or Dunwich beneath the waters of the North
Sea. Yet the remains of the royal buildings are not only exceedingly
beautiful, but are of extraordinary interest as representing a palace
which must have been one of the largest and most elaborate of the
mediæval period. Its moat enclosed a building averaging 340 ft. by 300
ft. in area, and the total length of the courts of the palace probably
approached 1,000 ft., with a width of from four to five hundred.
This rivals Hampton Court, which is 720 ft. by 400 ft., and is not
insignificant even when compared with the great scheme of Inigo Jones
for Whitehall, which was to have measured 1,200 ft. by 900 ft.
A most remarkable plan of the whole of the apartments within the
circumference of the moat has just come under my notice, preserved
among the many treasures in the Hatfield papers, and with Lord
Salisbury’s kind permission I have used it in preparing the plan on
pages 54–55. The original drawing is in outline, and is endorsed
“Eltham House,” the second word being in Lord Burghley’s handwriting.
In the Public Record Office (State Papers Domestic, Elizabeth, Vol.
234, No. 78) is a plan of the outer courtyard of offices, _beyond_
the moat, of which Hasted publishes a reproduction and Mr. Gregory[14]
includes a copy, apparently from an engraving, in his book. This plan,
which has puzzled many earlier writers, including Pugin (who in spite
of the explicit wording seems to have supposed it to be of the main
court and was surprised at the absence of the hall), is signed by John
Thorpe, and has the date 1590, in pencil, on the back. The plan at
Hatfield is unsigned, but is to the same scale (20 ft. to the inch),
and may well have been also the work of Thorpe, although it is executed
with much greater care than the plan of the offices in the State
Papers. Together the two plans give us the whole extent of the palace
and the buildings within its precincts. (See pp. 54 and 55.)
[14] _The Story of Royal Eltham_, by R. R. C. Gregory.
The site at Eltham has never been properly investigated, and the
field is open for a very considerable amount of work in verifying or
correcting these plans and identifying the positions of the buildings
shown thereon. In presenting, therefore, the general arrangement as
outlined on the existing manuscripts I intend to do no more than
introduce the subject and place one or two considerations at the
disposal of those who may complete the work. By the courtesy of Mr.
R. R. C. Gregory and Mr. F. W. Nunn I am permitted to reproduce some
interesting photographs which were specially taken for the former’s
book on Eltham, showing a few of the remains as they stand at the
present day.
Although the two plans are full of detail, and evidently drawn with
great care, they share with practically all ancient plans a certain
inaccuracy which is often very puzzling. There can be no doubt at all
about the competence of the surveyors of the Elizabethan period to make
perfectly accurate drawings, and their draughtsmanship is surprisingly
similar to that of the present day, showing moreover a care which is
often above the modern average. Yet they fail us repeatedly, wherever
enough of the old work remains to test their accuracy, and their errors
are apparently so needless that we are quite at a loss to account for
them. Not a little controversy has been waged over the collection of
Thorpe’s drawings in the Soane Museum on this very point, and while
the draughtsman has incurred serious blame, and much scepticism has
been aroused as to the genuineness of the plans, the problem has been
left unsolved, and one continues to find at least as much evidence to
corroborate as to confute their author. Perhaps if the architect of the
present day would reflect upon his own experience he would find less to
surprise him in the work of his sixteenth-century predecessor. It is
not a rare but a frequent occurrence, even in these days of accurate
instruments and multiplied facilities for drawing, to meet with plans
that are hastily drawn and inaccurately set down. The surveyor has
often to make a rapid survey; he occasionally misreads his own notes
and figures; a few important dimensions are sometimes omitted, and when
the drawing is made at some distance from the site a little guesswork
intrudes; and so much is this so that even official surveys—though
absolutely trustworthy for their own purposes—are found to have their
percentage of mistakes. But if these lapses occur in finished plans,
how numerous are the errors in unfinished drafts or sketch-plans which
are made for general purposes only! And who is to say, when we come
upon an old drawing, often accidentally preserved in a parcel of MSS.,
that this is merely a first sketch—a rough draft of which the corrected
version has long ago perished? These considerations, I submit, should
make us less ready to blame the draughtsman, but at the same time will
prepare us for a greater vigilance in checking his work and taking his
evidence with the greatest caution.
The plan of the palace proper at Eltham, comprising the buildings
within the moat, is, as far as one can judge, very fairly accurate. The
foundations of the outside line of fortifications still exist, and
correspond in the main to those shown. This outer wall is apparently
of sixteenth-century date, and is not unlikely to have been partly
the work of Queen Elizabeth. It formed on three sides a broad terrace
between the moat and Bishop Bec’s original walls. That the palace was
first fortified by Bec[15] is made extremely likely by the general
resemblance of the plan to his castle at Somerton, where the area
enclosed by the moat has a square plan similar to that of Eltham, with
one side lengthened in the same manner, making one of the angles less
and one more than a right angle.
[15] Pugin gives the following note: “Somerton Castle in Lincolnshire
built also by Anthony Beke, was of a quadrangle plan with four
polygonal towers at the corners, and was encompassed by very strong
banks and deep moats beyond the walls.” Robert de Graystanes, an
ancient historian of the Church of Durham, in his account of Bishop
Bec’s works, says: “Castrum de Somerton juxta Lincoln, et manerium
de Eltham juxta London, curiosissime ædificavit; sed primum regi et
secundum reginae postea contulit” (Anglia Sacra i. 755).
The three principal towers at the angles and the one in the centre of
the south front are probably his work. The last-named tower evidently
guarded the south entrance, and it may have been the remains of this
that have been spoken of as “castle-like” in earlier descriptions of
the ruins. Some later hand probably inserted the fireplaces in these
towers.
A reference to the large-scale Ordnance map will show how accurately
the fortifications follow the line of the Elizabethan plan. The view
of the palace and moat published by Samuel and Nathaniel Buck in 1735,
of which there is a copy in the King’s Library (British Museum), shows
the north-east part of this wall fairly intact, and the eastern bastion
raised like a tower and covered with a shaped lead roof resembling a
cupola. It is probable that most of the building shown by Buck upon
the outer walls was erected after the palace was despoiled, and the
roofed bastion is not unlikely to have been but an eighteenth-century
summer-house, the work perhaps of one of the line of Sir John Shaw.
[Illustration: FIG. 20.—BRIDGE OVER MOAT.
_Photograph by F. W. Nunn._]
[Illustration: FIG. 21.—COMPLETE PLAN OF PALACE.
_Drawn by Walter H. Godfrey._]
[Illustration: FIG. 22.—INTERIOR OF HALL.
_Photograph by H.M. Office of Works._]