Transcriber’s Note
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[Illustration: The Cathedral: West Front.
WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL.]
ROYAL
WINCHESTER
WANDERINGS IN AND ABOUT
THE ANCIENT CAPITAL OF ENGLAND
BY THE
REV. A. G. L’ESTRANGE, M.A.
AUTHOR OF
“THE VILLAGE OF PALACES,”
“THE FRIENDSHIPS OF M. R. MITFORD,” ETC., ETC.
WITH NUMEROUS TEXT AND FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM
ORIGINAL SKETCHES BY C. G. HARPER
_SECOND EDITION._
LONDON:
SPENCER BLACKETT
35, ST. BRIDE STREET, LUDGATE CIRCUS, E.C.
(_All rights reserved._)
Among those who have kindly afforded me information during the progress
of this work are the Very Rev. Dr. Kitchin, Dean of Winchester, the
Rev. Dr. Sewell, Warden of New College, Oxford, the Rev. J. G. Young,
Mr. F. Baigent, Mr. J. H. Round, Mr. T. Stopher, and Mr. C. G. Harper.
I have consulted, among recent works, those of the Misses Bramston and
Leroy, the Rev. H. C. Adams, and Mr. Woodward.
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
FIRST DAY.
PAGE
Introduction--The High Street--The Castle--King Arthur
--Historical Reminiscences--Executions--The Civil
War--Charles II.’s Palace--The Westgate--Wyke--
Littleton--Crawley--Lainston--Sparsholt 1
SECOND DAY.
“God Begot” House--The High Street--Old Guildhall--
Butter Cross--King Alfred--The Penthouse--St.
Maurice’s Church--The Bell and Crown--New Guildhall
--Museum--Archives--St. Mary’s Nunnery--St.
John’s Hospital--Soke Prison--St. Giles’ Hill--The
Fair 49
THIRD DAY.
The City Walls--Danemead--Eastgate--Northgate--
Westgate--Southgate--Kingsgate--The College--
Wykeham--Wolvesey--Raleigh 85
FOURTH DAY.
Jewry Street and the Jews--Hyde Abbey--St. Grimbald
--Destruction of Tombs--Headbourne Worthy--
King’s Worthy--The Nuns’ Walk 123
FIFTH DAY.
The Cathedral--Early History--Dagon--St. Swithun
--Æthelwold--The Vocal Cross--Ordeal of Fire--
Walkelin--Renovation of the Cathedral--Civil War
--Architecture--Nave--Isaak Walton--Relics and
Monuments--De la Roche--Frescoes--Ethelmar--
Crypt 148
SIXTH DAY.
The Grenadier--Cathedral Library and Museum--The
Deanery--Pilgrim’s Hall--Precincts--Cheyney Court
--Regulations of the Monastery--North side of the
Cathedral--Early decay of the City--St. Peter’s Street
--Middle Brooks--Old Houses 209
SEVENTH DAY.
Southgate Street--St. Cross--Dr. Lewis--Regulations--
St. Catherine’s Hill 243
EIGHTH AND FOLLOWING DAYS.
Ancient Britons--St. John’s Church--Magdalen Hospital
--Punchbowl--Chilcombe--St. Peter’s Cheesehill--
Twyford--Monoliths--Brambridge Avenue--Otterbourne
--Compton--“Oliver’s Battery”--Hursley--Tomb
of Keble--Merdon Castle--Farley Mount--The Hampage
Oak--Tichborne 262
INDEX 297
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
THE CATHEDRAL: WEST FRONT, WINCHESTER _Frontispiece_
WESTGATE 7
CASTLE HALL 29
THE EPITAPH OF DR HARPESFELDE 40
SPARSHOLT CHURCH 45
THE BUTTER CROSS AND PENTHOUSE 49
ROYAL OAK PASSAGE 51
THE OLD GUILDHALL 55
THE GUILDHALL 67
SOKE BRIDGE 77
TOWERS AND SPIRES OF WINCHESTER 79
KINGSGATE 90
THE PORTER’S LODGE AND CHEYNEY COURT 92
CHAMBER COURT 99
THE CLOISTERS 103
THE COLLEGE CHAPEL 111
CORNER OF A COLLEGE STUDY 115
THE TOWER OF THE COLLEGE CHAPEL FROM THE ITCHEN 121
CNUT AND EMMA (ÆLFGYFU) PLACING THE CROSS AT HYDE 133
WYKEHAM’S TOMB 167
A FRAGMENT OF THE CHAPTER HOUSE 169
IN THE NORTH TRANSEPT 177
KING JAMES 181
THE CHOIR FROM THE NAVE 187
THE DEANERY 219
THE PENTHOUSE 233
MIDDLE BROOK 237
THE CHURCH OF SAINT CROSS FROM THE WATER MEADOWS 245
BEAUFORT TOWER, ST. CROSS 249
ST. CATHERINE’S HILL FROM ST. CROSS 259
ST. JOHN’S FROM A COTTAGE GARDEN 265
CHILCOMBE CHURCH 270
A CHILCOMBE TOMBSTONE 271
ST. PETER’S CHEESEHILL FROM ABOVE THE STATION 273
TWYFORD 278
HURSLEY 285
FARLEY MOUNT 288
ROYAL WINCHESTER
_WANDERINGS IN AND ABOUT THE ANCIENT CAPITAL OF ENGLAND._
FIRST DAY.
Introduction--The High Street--The Castle--King Arthur--Historical
Reminiscences--Executions--The Civil War--Charles II.’s Palace--The
Westgate--Wyke--Littleton--Crawley--Lainston--Sparsholt.
“Would that the George Hotel had an old gable, or even an Elizabethan
window,” I said to myself as I unshouldered my knapsack; “but perhaps
the ordinary visitor thinks more of creature comforts than of artistic
effects.”
“Is there anything of antiquity about the house?” I inquired, turning
to the waiter.
“Not that I know of,” was the reply; “but it is a very ancient
establishment. There is a fresco two hundred years old in one of the
rooms,” he added, with a little pride.
I took out my notebook and pencil, and was shown into a ground-floor
room in the western and earlier part of the hotel to see this
curiosity. Alas! it proved to be nothing but an old paperhanging.
“Not very remarkable,” I said, carelessly.
“Indeed, sir!”
“I am expecting some friends by the next train,” I continued. “We shall
require dinner for three. What can we have?”
The waiter was pretty well acquainted with the productions of the
culinary department, which had not much charm of novelty, and after
settling that important business, I sallied forth to purchase a
guide-book. This was not the first time I had been at Winchester, and
much of the information it contained was not new to me; but I wished to
refresh my memory on some points, as the friends I was expecting looked
to me to be their _cicerone_ during the few days we were to spend here
together.
Reading some and skipping more, and glancing at the well-known
illustrations, I thought myself fairly acquainted with the subject,
especially as I had rummaged up something from old books and
manuscripts in London. I wished to stand well with the old gentleman
and his daughter for certain reasons which I shall not mention--because
I may be unsuccessful. Well--we shall see.
[Sidenote: Arrival.]
Here they are!--warm greetings--the luggage is lifted down, and by
degrees the small articles which accompany a lady’s travels were
brought in, counted, and arranged. Do the number and variety of them
cause me to hesitate or to reflect that in single blessedness--
“When a man’s hat is on his head
His house is thatched and furnishèd”?
No, not for one moment.
Conversation soon becomes more connected, and, in due course, allusion
is made to the object of our visit.
“Now, mind you tell us _everything_ about Winchester,” said Miss
Hertford, with a smiling emphasis, which showed that she intended to be
obeyed.
“Everything, and some other things,” I replied, submissively; “but
perhaps you under-estimate the extent of the mine which is here beneath
our feet. You are an enchantress, and if you wish to become the idol of
antiquaries, turn Winchester upside down for a few hours.”
The present “George” is not inspiring architecturally, but still
possesses a fragrance beyond that of mere soups and joints. Here
successive generations have been accommodated and regaled,
“Have found the warmest welcome at an inn,”
ever since the days of Edward IV. Had a Visitors Book been kept, what a
rare collection of autographs would it have contained! In the twentieth
year of Henry VIII. we read of the “In of the George” being leased by
the Mayor to one Stephen Boddam, on condition that he pays the rent
fixed and forty shillings towards the new making of the chimney.[1]
The name of the house was taken from the patron saint of England,
pork-dealer, bishop, and dragon-slayer; to whom we find a chapel in
Winchester dedicated in Henry IV.’s time.[2]
[Sidenote: Sufferings of a Royalist.]
The stable at the back is the oldest part. It has a dingy aspect, and
an unpleasant association. When Waller was here making demands upon
the citizens in 1643, one Master Say, a son of a Prebendary of the
Cathedral, directed his servant to conceal his horses. Betrayed and
brought before Waller, he was questioned, and his answers being deemed
unsatisfactory, was handed over to the Provost Marshal to extract a
confession. He was forthwith taken into the “eighteen-stall stable,” a
halter was placed round his neck, and, as he still refused information,
he was pulled up and down to the rack until nearly strangled. All the
spectators retired in disgust--they could not stand the sight.
“How dreadful!” exclaimed Miss Hertford. “Did the poor man die?”
“It very nearly finished him,” I returned; “but people were pretty
strong in those days. However, he had, as a result, a dangerous
illness.”
There is no better starting-point than the “George,” in the centre of
the High Street, for exploring Winchester. This was the chief street
in Roman times, and perhaps terminated in such a round arch as we see
at Lincoln. In the palmy days of the city good houses probably adorned
the street. There seems to have been a fashionable tailor here in the
days of John and Henry III. His cut was evidently appreciated, for
he was not only employed by the King, but given wood to repair his
house, Limafelda, the rent of which was a grey pelise for the King.
We may conclude there was also a grand harness maker: for John ordered
the Mayor to give the constable of Corfe Castle a handsome (pulchra)
saddle, with a scarlet saddle-cloth and gilt bridle.[3]
The scene had greatly changed by Henry VIII.’s time. The houses, mostly
wooden and thatched, had gardens in front of them, of a somewhat Irish
character, for the walls were dilapidated,[4] and they contained
few flowers, but many sweet--pigs. A civic order was now made that
householders should no longer keep “hog-sties” within the boundaries
of the “hie” street. Those were times of darkness--there were no
town-lights, and some apprehension was felt that even the supply of
candles might run short. And so, in the fifteenth year of Henry VIII.,
it was ordered by the Winchester “assemble” that the chandlers “should
make” good and well-burning candles, and “should see there was no lack
of them.”[5] In Charles II.’s time the citizens were bidden to hang out
lights while the King was in residence.
[Sidenote: Westgate.]
Now let us come to a nearer date, and imagine this street a
hundred years ago. An open drain ran down it, and lines of gables
and overhanging storeys nodded across at each other in grotesque
infirmity. A pretty picture they made, and there was one night in the
year on which they seemed to me to be sadly missing--the fifth of
November--when tar barrels were lit at the Westgate and kicked down the
street by an exulting mob. A grand scene it was of riot and wildfire,
and only wanted the quaint, irregular buildings to complete the effect.
“When Keats was here in 1819,” said Mr. Hertford, “he found the
place much modernized and ‘improved.’ He says the side streets were
excessively maiden-lady-like; the doorsteps were always fresh from the
flannel, and the knockers had a staid, serious, almost awful quietness
about them. Never did he see such a quiet collection of lions’ and
rams’ heads.”[6]
[Illustration: West Gate, Winchester.]
The first object that attracted our attention on our walks was the
Westgate, which crowns the High Street, and is beautiful with its
ivy, arches, and two Decorated windows. There is a warm semi-domestic
character in the fortifications of a town--a charm distinct from that
of the colder grandeur of the Castle and Cathedral. As we approach the
gate, we pass the Star Inn.
“That unpretentious building,” I said, “stands on holy ground.[7]
“Graves of unknown age, Roman coins and vases were found there when
digging for the foundations in 1885. It is thought that a palace of
Queen Emma stood on or near its site. There was a hostel named ‘La
Starre’ in Winchester in the reign of Henry IV.”
[Sidenote: Prisoners.]
We now approach and stand before the gate. Had we been here in the
fourteenth century--on a Sunday morning--during the fair, we should
have found ourselves surrounded by a chattering crowd, buying bread at
the stalls here erected; while close to us on the left (south), would
have risen a grim tower in haughty grandeur. It stood just in front
of where are now the stairs of the office of the Hampshire Friendly
Society--a slight inequality in the road can be observed over the
foundations. This was a part of the ancient castle, which some say
was built by FitzOsborne at the Conqueror’s command, while others[8]
observe that we have no allusion to it till the days of Henry I. In
Henry II.’s reign it is often mentioned. Some say that previously the
Saxon palace stood here. This palace has been well jolted about by
topographers, most of whom place it in the Square behind the Butter
Cross. The result is that we have here a couple of prisoners, and
do not know where to put them. One of these is Stigand, Bishop of
Winchester, and afterwards archbishop. His treasures were not entirely
in the other world, but he kindly kept a correct account of them,
and wore his key on a chain round his neck, so that on his death in
1070, William had no difficulty in turning his store into the royal
coffers. The other sufferer was a young Saxon of the name of Meaw. It
appears that the Conqueror’s wife, Matilda, was not so busy with her
Bayeux tapestry and _Abbaye aux Dames_ as to forget all about this
aggravating person. He would care nothing for her, and she determined
to be revenged. So she had him shut up somewhere in Winchester, that he
might have leisure to reflect on the advantages of being “willing and
free.” Prisons were not then as they are now--some of the best warmed
and ventilated places--there were no good food and attentive doctors,
and after a short time poor Meaw was beyond the reach both of love and
hatred.
[Sidenote: The Domesday Book.]
In this Castle was the “exchequer,” that is, the depository of records
and treasure. Among the valuables it contained for a considerable time
was the celebrated Domesday Book, or a copy of it, which is first
mentioned as the “Liber de Thesauro,” appealed to in a case argued
before Queen Matilda “in the treasury of the Castle of Winchester,”[9]
about the year 1108. The original rolls disappeared at an early date,
perhaps in some conflagration, but the Winton book, that describing
this locality, is a more full copy from them than is the larger
Domesday Book for the whole of England. Authorities differ as to when
this book was removed from Winchester. In the seventh year of Henry
II., there appears a charge in the Pipe Rolls for conveying the “arca”
from Winchester to London, and in the London Record Office there is a
curious chest in which this book was kept at Westminster. It is about
five feet square, formed of iron nearly an inch thick, and strengthened
with heavy girders and studs. This may have been the very ark above
mentioned.
“In order to see this castle we must ante-date our existence three
hundred years.”
“I wish we could,” said Mr. Hertford, “then we should have no trouble
about Home Rule or County Councils.”
“Suppose then,” I proceeded, “we are standing in front of the old tower
I have mentioned, and admiring its handsome mouldings of cut stone.
If we are allowed to enter and explore we shall find beneath it three
subterranean passages radiating in different directions--one to the
east, passing into the town, with a view probably of taking sanctuary
in churches; another to the south, leading towards the hall; and a
third to the west, ending in a sally port outside the town. Passing
through this entrance tower we have on our left an embattled wall
(where the paved walk now runs) meeting the end of the hall,[10] and
on our right another wall (along the course of the iron railing of the
Friendly Society), extending to the State apartments--the site of the
present County Offices. The original Norman Castle--a tower fifty-two
feet square and fourteen thick, which stood where the Jubilee Queen
now sits in front of the hall--was demolished at an early date. The
succeeding castle had round towers, between thirty and forty feet wide,
and from eight to ten thick.[11] Beyond the hall was an inner court,
or ‘pleasaunce,’ with four towers, one at each corner; one is still
visible, and one stood where the officers’ quarters are; one probably
belonging to the Castle, but somewhat distant, and perhaps detached,
was found in the railway cutting.
[Sidenote: The Castle.]
“A remarkable, if not fabulous event, took place ‘in the hall of
Winchester Castle’ (or palace) in Edward the Confessor’s time. The
story goes that one of the serving-men in bringing in a dish slipped
one foot, but saved himself with the other. Earl Godwin being in good
spirits, perhaps, at the termination of the almost endless grace,
attempted a joke--a somewhat hazardous venture before the Confessor.
‘So should one brother support the other,’ quoth he. Edward was down
upon him in a moment. ‘So might I have been now assisted by my brother
Alfred, if Earl Godwin had not prevented it.’ The Earl protested that
he had no connection with that murder; ‘might the next morsel be his
last if he had.’ He ate and tried to swallow, but the food and the lie
stuck in his throat, and he fell dead under the table.”
“I have read, somewhere,” observed Mr. Hertford, “that there is no
truth in that story beyond the fact that the Earl died suddenly at a
banquet here, and was buried in the Cathedral. It has a Norman flavour.”
We find that Henry II. bought a place in Winchester for his mews, which
remained in the hands of John and Henry III.[12] John in his fifth year
gave to Matthew Wallop “the custody of our house and castle gates and
gaol in Winchester for the service of his keeping at his cost our birds
put in the Castle to be mewed, finding one servant to mew them, and
keep throughout the mewing time. And he shall find three hare hounds
for each season.”[13] John also ordered a Columbarium to be made in the
Castle.[14]
[Illustration: Castle Hall.]
While we were admiring the exterior of the hall I thought of the grim
ornaments with which the Castle was once adorned. Here was placed by
Edward I. a quarter of the last native Prince of Wales. Here Queen
Isabella exhibited the head of Earl Despencer. As I was musing, a
labourer came out, and we were enabled to enter the building.
“Magnificent!” exclaimed Mr. Hertford. “What a length and height; and
look at those tall, blue shafts of Purbeck marble!”
“Those pillars and aisles,” I replied, “have led some to mistake it for
a church. But although we read of four chapels in the Castle--the chief
of which was to St. Josse--this was not among them. The length is 110
feet. The old entrance to the hall, the mouldings of which are still
visible, was used towards the end of the last century, and corresponded
with that still existing on the south side.”[15]
[Sidenote: Arthur’s Table.]
At the west end are the remains of a daïs, and a curious orifice,
supposed to be for communicating by word of mouth with the State
apartments. Over this, like a large target, hangs the famous “round
table” of King Arthur--a mystery for centuries. In the reign of
Henry III., who was much here, and had his birth-room in the Castle
coloured with fresh green, when there were statues in the porch,
marble pillars, and a painted chamber, there were also here a “Mappa
Mundi” and a “Wheel of Fortune.” The latter seems suggestive, and the
Round Tower, built by Wykeham, at Windsor, and called the Round Table,
may have been taken from this; but we hear nothing of it till Henry
VI.’s reign,[16] and the present painting dates from Henry VIII., who
specially showed the work of art to the Emperor Charles V. Round it
are inscribed the names of Arthur’s knights, and in the centre is a
picture of a king in voluminous robes, much more like a Tudor monarch
than a British warrior.[17] Tradition says that Arthur founded this
Castle. He and his companions, when divested of their French motley,
represent the conflict which raged between the Christian Britons and
the pagan Saxons. It is said that he gained a great victory in this
neighbourhood, and so fondly did the conquered and oppressed natives
recall the memory of their beloved champion, that they fancied he would
come again--
“Thence to Britain shall return,
If right prophetic rolls I learn,
Borne on Victory’s spreading plume,
His ancient sceptre to resume,
His knightly table to restore,
And brave the tournaments of yore.”
Henry VII. was not above superstitious or worldly considerations, and
the legendary foundation of the Castle induced him to bring Elizabeth
to this city to be delivered, and to call his first son Arthur.[18]
[Sidenote: The Castle.]
Great improvements were made in the Castle by Henry III., for which
the forest of Bere was mainly contributory. The order is extant in
which the verderers are commanded to sell the underwood and give the
money for the construction of a great hall at the Castle,[19] and oaks
were to be cut for forming the roof.[20] This forest, extending from
Winchester to Southampton, would be able to furnish ample money and
material. The stone for building and repairing the Castle was to be
brought from “Kerebroc,” in the Isle of Wight.[21]
Twenty-five thousand slates were placed upon the roof, and the queen’s
chamber was panelled with Irish oak. By the time Elizabeth came to the
throne, the Castle was in a somewhat dilapidated state. From a letter
of the Commissioners in 1570, we find that the ditch and rampart on
the west part of the Castle was overgrown with moss and small bushes;
it contained three acres. The Castle green was let, together with the
“old walls and ruinous void romes” there--the lessee to keep it clean
for Sessions and Assizes. The Mayor had lately repaired the roof of the
hall; the Queen had spent much money on its south aisle, but the north
aisle was so greatly decayed that the whole edifice was in danger of
falling. After this report,[22] some repairs were probably undertaken.
“Do not we see,” I continued, “as we stand and gaze at this splendid
structure, the pomp of history sweep slowly past? Here advance Henry
I. and his bride Matilda of Scotland,[23] and Cœur de Lion returned
from captivity. Henry the Third and the three Edwards were more
frequent in their visits and banquets.[24] Here is the studious young
William of Wykeham, secretary to Sir John de Scures, Constable of the
Castle. What is all this bridal array?--Henry IV. and Joan of Brittany.
Here the warlike Henry V., who may be claimed as a Winchester boy, is
receiving the French ambassadors[25] who came with three hundred men;
and here his gentle son obtains less perishable honours as he lays down
the plan of Eton College on the lines of Wykeham’s foundation. Here
is the bluff and jovial Henry VIII., holding high festival for the
handsome young Emperor Charles V.; and here is melancholy Mary, doating
on her faithless Philip.
[Sidenote: The Hall.]
“James I. gave the Castle to Benjamin Tichborne--a name recalling
a recent contest; and Charles II. demolished most of it for the
construction of his more luxurious palace.
“In Edward the First’s reign the Bishop of St. Andrews though only a
prisoner of war who had opposed the King in Scotland, was confined
here in irons. It was then the rule rather than the exception for such
prisoners to be chained. A Parliament was held here by Isabella and
Mortimer, and a cruel scene then followed the incarceration of Edmund
of Woodstock. He was brought out in front of the main entrance to
the Castle (through the city wall) to be executed. There he was kept
“from morn till dewy eve” in a state of painful suspense, for, to the
credit of all, no one would be induced to do the cruel deed. At last a
prisoner, to save his own life, decapitated him.”
“I have often wondered,” observed Mr. Hertford, “how any one could be
induced to perform this odious office against the lives of celebrated
men. We know the difficulty there was in the case of Charles I., how
disguises were used and what suspicions there were as to who were the
two executioners.”
“We have another sensational scene here,” I proceeded, “before the
time of Charles. When James I. came to the throne the Castle Green
was again reddened with blood. Eleven persons, among them Raleigh,
were tried for conspiring against the King and State. Several were
condemned, as were Lord Grey de Wilton and Lord Cobham, who were tried
in this hall.
“I can see,” I said, “two men pacing up and down here in great mental
perturbation. Three have already suffered on the Green, and Markham
and Lord Grey, having been led forth in all the pomp of woe to
execution, have been respited for a couple of hours and turned into
‘Arthur’s Hall,’ to gain what cold comfort they can from it. Then
Cobham was led forth, and Markham and Grey were brought out to meet
him. Reprieves were given--a great shout from the assembled multitude
rent the air--and the pardoned looked at each other and felt as if they
were alive from the dead. Raleigh saw all this performance from his
prison, and was agreeably surprised to hear that he also was not to be
executed. The Court was in the Castle during this sensational period,
and the ladies were amusing themselves with small games such as ‘Rise
pig and go,’ and ‘One penny follow me.’ Lady Arabella Stuart was with
them in whose behalf the conspiracy was said to have been formed.”[26]
[Sidenote: Cruel Sentence.]
We now come to what happened here at the end of the Civil War, when
Charles was within Carisbrooke Castle, in the Isle of Wight. When the
Commissioners left, Hammond, who was in charge of him, dismissed all
the royal attendants. This became known in the neighbourhood, where
the people were Royalists, and caused great indignation. Thereupon a
Captain Burleigh, a man of good family in the island, who had been
captain of one of the King’s ships and afterwards a general of ordnance
in the army, had a drum beaten in Newport, and called upon the people
to take arms and storm the Castle. It was a rash and childish project,
and sensible people held aloof from it. Burleigh probably thought that
he could not be much punished, and no one had yet suffered for treason
in supporting the King. But the Parliament took a new departure.
Hammond arrested him, and sent him a prisoner to Winchester Castle, and
soon a ferocious judge, whose name was Wild, was sent down to condemn
him. Sentence in the usual form was passed, and the unfortunate man
sentenced to be hanged and quartered here.
Shortly afterwards Charles himself passed a night here on his road from
Hurst Castle to Windsor, whence he took his last journey to London.
Many of the gentry and others came to meet him, and the Mayor and
Corporation prepared an address; but Lieutenant Cobbett warned them,
and having fresh in their memories the tragic end of poor Burleigh,
they desisted and craved forgiveness.
[Sidenote: Surrender of the Castle.]
At no period in its history did the Castle occupy so conspicuous
a position as during the Civil War. From 1642 to 1645, there was
frequently a conflict raging here between the red scarf and the buff.
In the first-named year it was in the neglected state into which it
had gradually fallen, and the Cavaliers who took refuge in it, found
it an inadequate place of safety, as there were no cannon on its walls
and Waller’s troops “beset them with musqueteers and Horse, and lay
perdues under the wall so that not a man of them could stir.” At eleven
at night the Cavaliers sounded for a parley--in vain--and the besiegers
next morning, lacking artillery and petards, prepared a quantity of
faggots and tar barrels to burn the Castle gate. Then negotiations
commenced, and it was agreed that Lord Grandison should surrender
the Castle with all arms, horses, and money, the garrison being
granted their lives. A scandalous scene of pillage ensued, contrary
to conditions. The men were stripped of their clothes “four or five
pulling at one cloak like hounds at the leg of a dead horse,” and the
officers were robbed of their purses. Waller left Lord Grandison and
some prisoners in the Castle, under a small guard, but he found means
to escape to the King at Oxford, and suggested to Sir William Ogle that
he should try to rescue the prisoners. Sir Richard Tichborne assisted,
and in three days they were in possession both of the Castle and of
the arms and ammunition of the enemy. Sir William now strengthened the
Castle, and made it “as inaccessible as art could invent,” considering
it the key to the whole Western country. He was assisted by the Mayor
and citizens, and put the defences of the city into a better state
than they had been for years. Soon afterwards the Royalist Western
army of 3,000 Foot and 1,500 Horse entered the town under Lord Hopton.
Winchester was generally a loyal town, but there were some weak-kneed
people there, who replied to the King that “they could not be justly
blamed for endeavouring to secure their lives and to keep their wives
and daughters from rapine and destruction.”
After the city had been three times plundered by Waller it again
held out for the King, and was finally taken by Cromwell at the end
of September, 1645. He advanced against it with three regiments of
infantry and 2000 cavalry. This strong force and the memory of past
defeats caused the resistance to be half-hearted--indeed, the Mayor
said he would try to bring about a capitulation. After the gate was
fired, the Roundheads entered and the Royalists fled to the Castle,
which was soon surrounded. Mines and batteries were immediately
commenced. “We have cooped up in the Castle 120 Horse and 400 Foot,
and all the malignant gentry and clergy of this Hampshire and Sussex,
with many Papists and Jesuits.” Doctor Curle, the Bishop of Winchester,
remained firm to the King on this trying occasion, and suffered
accordingly. Cromwell gave him permission to leave the city, but he
refused to accept it, and went into the Castle with the soldiers. But
next day, Thursday, when the batteries were placed opposite the walls,
the Bishop thought he would as soon be somewhere else, and sent to
Cromwell to say he would accept his offer. This advance was refused,
and he was told he would be treated as any other prisoner of war.
[Sidenote: Attack by Cromwell.]
On Friday the battery of six guns was perfected, and on Saturday
it began to play. Lord Ogle hoisted a red flag of defiance.
Notwithstanding Cromwell’s Puritan views, he did not make Sunday a day
of rest, nor did he keep it holy, though he intermingled prayer and
preaching with battering--firing altogether two hundred cannon balls in
the day. The Royalists replied; sometimes firing into the High Street,
which became unsafe for passengers, and at one time making a sally
and beating the Roundheads from their guns for the moment. But the
storm proved too severe, the red flag was carried away by a shot, and
granadoes did great execution--one breaking through into the hall and
killing three men.[27] A wide breach was made near the “Black Tower”
and the Royalists called out “A parley, a parley for God’s sake! Let us
have articles! Will you not hear us for a parley?”
We might have expected a more stubborn defence, for the Castle was
strongly fortified. If the besiegers had entered the breach they would
have had six distinct works and a drawbridge to pass over. Moreover
victuals were abundant.
Cromwell now wrote the following unctuous letter to Fairfax:--
“SIR,--This is the addition of another mercy. You see God is not weary
of doing you good. I confess, Sir, His favour to you is as visible
when He comes by His power upon the hearts of your enemies, making
them quit places of strength to you, as when He gives courage to
your soldiers to attempt hard things. His goodness in this is much
to be acknowledged; for the Castle was well manned with six hundred
and eighty Horse and Foot, there being near two hundred gentlemen,
officers and their servants, well victualled with 15 cwt. of cheese,
very great store of wheat and beer, nearly 20 barrels of powder, seven
pieces of cannon; the works were exceeding good and strong. It’s very
likely it would have cost much blood to have gained it by storm. This
is repeated to you that God may have all the praise, for it’s all His
due. Sir, I rest your most humble servant,
“OLIVER CROMWELL.
“WINCHESTER, _6th October, 1645_.”
[Sidenote: Cavaliers Disguised.]
Among the spoil were three or four hogsheads of French wines and a
hundred and twelve hogsheads of strong beer. The Cavaliers felt a
natural reluctance that all this good tipple should go down rebel
throats, and seem to have done their best to prevent such a calamity.
The enemy were by the articles to enter at eight on Monday morning,
but the surrender had to be delayed until after two, owing to the
intoxicated state of the garrison. “Viscount Ogle was as drunk as a
beggar,” writes an eye-witness. “I had come sooner had not my Lord Ogle
and his company been so unwilling to part with their sack and strong
beer, of which they drank so liberally at their farewell that few of
them, as it is their manner, could get up on their horses without
help.” The Bishop and his chaplain came out in their long gowns and
cassocks, and were granted an escort to protect them from insult. Dr.
Curle died a few years later in poverty.
The Castle was conferred by Parliament on Sir W. Waller, brother-in-law
to Sir Henry Tichborne, to whom it belonged. It had been in the Waller
family, who were connected with the Tichbornes. Waller sold the Hall to
the County and the Castle to the Corporation of Winchester.[28]
The Parliaments of England sat occasionally in this Hall for four
hundred years after the Conquest. Since Henry VIII.’s reign county
business has been transacted here, and from Cromwell’s time the Law
Courts have been established, the space being divided, the upper part
devoted to the Crown Court, and the lower to Nisi Prius. Generations
of judges here shivered on the Bench, but at length a successful
demand was made that New Courts should be constructed at the east end,
and that this hall should be only the vestibule and waiting-room.
During a long period the graceful pillars we now behold were portly
and shapeless, encased in cement a foot thick, but in course of time
the witnesses, plaintiffs, and defendants who were kept kicking their
heels here by “the law’s delays” did some good, for they knocked off
the lower part of the cement and the marble became visible. About
fourteen years ago it was determined to try the effect of removing the
incrustation, and the operation having proved successful on one of the
pillars near the door, the rest were soon “translated.”
[Sidenote: Palace of Charles II.]
Passing through the south door we found ourselves beside the one
remaining tower, massive in strength and looking down from the height
upon a garden where once ran the castle moat. On our right rises the
high wall of a very different structure--Charles II.’s red brick
palace. The proportions are magnificent and the whole effect worthy
of its great designer, Wren. The main entrance with its six lofty
pillars, acanthus-leaved capitals, and heavy entablature surmounted by
the royal arms is scarcely visible from any point in the town, owing to
the conglomeration of houses below it, but a glimpse can be obtained
from a stable yard in Trafalgar Street, turning out of the High Street.
Charles II. laid the first stone in 1683. Evelyn writes in that year
that the palace was estimated to cost £35,000, and the surveyor was
purchasing land for a park to be ten miles in circumference. There was
to be a cupola over it visible at sea. After Newmarket was consumed
by fire, the King was more earnest to render Winchester the seat of
his autumnal field diversions. Two years later Evelyn was here, and
observed that £20,000 had been expended on the palace, but his Majesty
(James II.) did not seem to encourage the work. Queen Anne surveyed it
in person, and would have completed it for the Prince of Denmark had
he lived. The first use made of it was for the incarceration of French
prisoners of war in 1756. It must have been at that time a dreadful
place; there were sometimes as many as five thousand prisoners in it.
In 1792 it was occupied by a number of the exiled French clergy,[29]
and a few years later was fitted up as a barrack, for which it has
been ever since used.
Returning from the Castle to the Westgate we found that the keys of the
Tower were kept at St. John’s Hospital at the other end of the High
Street, and that it was necessary to obtain the permission of the civic
authorities. This caused some delay, but when I returned we entered,
and, ascending the rugged stairs, came to a cell where prisoners were
until lately confined. Proceeding higher we reached the chamber over
the arch--a handsome room with an ancient carved mantel-piece. The
cause of the precautions taken with regard to visitors now become
intelligible; for here are the archives of the city--volumes of records
beginning with Philip and Mary, and piles of ancient vellum rolls. I
observed a fine charter of Elizabeth’s reign, commencing with an etched
portrait of the Queen, as a young girl, and a grandiloquent reference
to Mary and Philip, as sovereigns of England, Scotland, France, Naples,
Jerusalem, and Ireland. The rarest of these old documents were for a
long time thought to be lost, but when, some ten years ago, inquiry was
being made in a solicitor’s office in Peter’s Street, for a charter of
Richard II., one of the clerks said: “Oh, we have a box full of these
old things,” showing some parchments. And here, upon examination, were
found twenty of these ancient records!
[Sidenote: The City Coffer.]
In this room is the huge old city chest, nearly ten feet long by four
wide. It has three locks and different keys, and long chains and rings
by which it could be carried about like the Ark of the Israelites.
“From what we read of the propensities of the Jews,” said Mr. Hertford,
“I should say they would have preferred such an ark as this to their
own.”
“Well, some of them would, perhaps,” I replied. “Their ark carried the
law and holy things, but this contained the coin, and also the gold and
silver plate of the city.”
It was heavily drawn upon in Charles I.’s reign for the King’s benefit.
On December 30, 1643, there were taken out for the maintenance of the
army:--
One silver ewer, weighing 33 oz.
Three silver bowls, 31 oz.
Two silver wine bowls, 15 oz.
One gilt bowl with cover, 31 oz.
One great silver salt, 28 oz.
One silver tankard, 19 oz.
One silver basin, 74 oz.
Previously they had sent him £300 raised by sale of plate.
“Why, the good aldermen could scarcely have left themselves a cup for
drinking the King’s health,” observed Mr. Hertford.
“Nor had they much wine for that purpose,” I added. “They had sent the
King already a sum of £1,000, and the Roundheads tapped them pretty
freely.”
This large chest reminds me of another there is at Upham, in which,
when at Marwell Hall near this, a girl playing hide-and-seek concealed
herself. She could not raise the lid, and nothing was known about her
mysterious disappearance until years afterwards when her skeleton was
found--a melancholy treasure.
Passing through the gate I admired the exterior. There was
machicolation over it for giving assailants a warm reception, perhaps
because there was no ditch in front of it. There was a moat on each
side, but on account of the difference of level, they did not meet
here. Milner says that there was part of a Saxon chapel adhering to
this building.
As we were about to move on, the magic of history brought a scene
before my mind. Stay! what is that concourse and cavalcade before the
gate? I hear a voice proclaiming--
“Let no merchant or other for these sixteen days, within a circuit of
sixteen leagues round the Fair, sell, buy, or set out for sale, any
merchandise in any place but the Fair, under a penalty of forfeiture of
goods to the Bishop.”
The Mayor is presenting the keys of the gate, but what sour
countenances have he and his fellow citizens! Is not this what took
place in the fourteenth century, on the eve of St. Giles’ fair?
[Sidenote: The Plague.]
As it was a fine autumnal day I now strolled right away by myself for a
country walk. Just before me was an obelisk raised to commemorate the
Plague of 1666, when the markets had to be placed outside the town. It
stands upon the very stone on which exchanges were then made, the money
being dropped into a bowl of water to avoid contagion. I saw in large
letters on the obelisk that it was erected by the “Society of Natives,”
somewhat suggestive of oysters, or of some primitive race descended
from them, but I found the reference was to an association formed
immediately after the plague, with the benevolent object of assisting
the widows and orphans of those who had died.
An old man told me that when at work in a cellar near this, in Newburgh
Street, he found, seven feet down, about a hundred rusty old swords.
He was told they were Saxon, and that if he had sent them to the Queen
he should never have had to do another day’s work, “a consummation,”
according to his views, “devoutly to be wished.” Some of them were sent
to the Museum, but as I could not find them there, I doubted whether
they were really Saxon.
Proceeding towards the country I saw on my right the Church of St.
Paul’s in course of construction--the work seems to have fallen into
a state of chronic debility. It stands on the foundations of the old
Church of St. Anastasius, and this district which seems fresh and
cheerful is mostly historical from disease. It was depopulated by a
pestilence in 1348, and never until lately recovered. At the end of the
fifteenth century this church, and one with the pleasant name of “St.
Mary’s of the Valley,” were taken down, and Wyke Chapel made the parish
church.
On the left I passed a red brick building, with some handsome trees
beside it. This was the Union Workhouse--a bright, comfortable-looking
edifice, which ought to cheer the hearts of any farmers and landowners
who are thinking of soon entering it. At the back they will find a
public recreation ground, called “Oram’s Arbour,” with seats, where
they can rest and reflect upon their past fortunes, and bless Oram,
who, having a lease of great length, generously surrendered it on
condition that the ground should be free to the citizens for ever.
There were, forty years ago, on the western side of it, where houses
have been built, a fosse and bank, probably made by the Royalists in
Cromwell’s time, though some have regarded them as a part of the old
British defences of the town.
[Sidenote: Wyke.]
Farther on I passed a row of cottages with brightly flowering gardens,
and after continuing up the hill between hedges white with “travellers’
joy,” for about half a mile, descended beneath overhanging larches, and
came to the village of Wyke, with its little boulevard of pollard lime
trees. Having obtained the keys at an adjoining cottage, I entered the
tiny church beneath the Norman arch, and looked at the East window,
which contains bits of old glass and has coloured scroll work round it.
The chapel is mentioned by Henry de Blois, but was rebuilt in Henry
VIII.’s reign. Within the chancel is a stone in the wall about eighteen
inches square, in memory of Dr. Harpesfelde, who died in 1550. This
person was a nephew of Johanna, Viscountess Lisle, who bequeathed to
him as a “scholar of Bologna,” twelve pounds, six silver spoons, a
silver cup, and a gown. He was made by Wolsey Commissary-general of
the diocese, and assisted at the enthronement of Gardiner. Towards the
end of his life he lived here, and went about in a horse litter. The
engraver has made his inscription conspicuous by forming the chief
letters very large and inserting the others inside them--an early
suggestion of shorthand.
[Illustration: THE EPITAPH OF DR. HARPESFELDE.
HERE LYETH
MR DOCTR HA
RPESEECDE PSON
HERE 1550 APRI III]
The greater part of the present building is of Henry VIII.’s time.
There are here abundant monuments to the Godwin family. I was somewhat
amused at one, which, after setting forth a long catalogue of virtues,
ended by bidding the exhausted reader--“Blush, if you do not venerate
the name of Thomas Godwin.”[30]
Just opposite the door there is in the wall a curious little brass,
about a foot high and six inches wide. Many people come to take
rubbings of it. Here is represented St. Christopher carrying the infant
Christ. The saint is wading through a stream, and in his anxiety to
behold the face of his sacred burden seems to have dislocated his neck.
The inscription beneath runs as follows:--
=Here lieth will’m Complyn
& Annes his wife yᵉ Whiche
will’m decessid yᵉ xxj day of
mayj yᵉ yere of oure lord
mc.c.c.clxxxxviiii. Also this be
ze dedis yᵗ ze said will’m hath
down to this Church of Wike
yᵗ is to say frest dedycacion
of yᵉ Church xlˢ & to make
newe bellis to yᵉ sam Church
xˡ also gave to yᵉ halloyeng
of yᵉ grettest bell vjˢ. viij. d.
& for yᵉ testimonyall’ of the
dedicacion of yᵉ sam Church
vjˢ viii. d. on whos soules
ihu have mercy Amen.=
I observed that _z_ is here twice put for _y_--and the fact reminded me
of the pronunciation of the agricultural people here.
As I left the quaint little sanctuary I found an old labouring man
standing outside gazing at it wistfully in an attitude of meditation.
I was glad to see this. “The poorest,” I thought, “can appreciate the
ancient and the beautiful.” But his reflections were more practical.
As I passed he gave me a curious look, and said, with a twinkle in his
grey eyes--
“Richest living about Winchester, zir.”
“Indeed,” I replied. “How much do you make it?”
“Eight hundred and fifty, zir.”
“The rector would be glad to receive half that,” I returned.
Resuming my walk I soon came in sight of a white cylindrical building
with a globular top, on the high ground of Harestock. As I saw my
agricultural friend trudging after me I stopped to ask him about it.
“What is that?” I inquired.
“That? Oh that is a place for looking at the stars. It belongs to
Captain Knight; he is a great astrologer.”
[Sidenote: Littleton.]
As I did not want my horoscope cast I passed on, and proceeded along a
hilly road between high banks, where grew the blue scabious and long
spikes of yellow agrimony and mullein, till in two miles I descended
into the village of Littleton. The church has been restored and thus
lost much of its interest, but there is here a dark square font of
massive stone, by which we think we can see the immediate descendants
of the Norman invaders standing to have their children christened.
There is also a brass on the floor in front of the chancel dating from
1493. Opening into the churchyard is an old cottage parsonage, in which
the clergyman formerly lived when he was--
“Passing rich on forty pounds a year.”
On one side was the large, low kitchen with its wide hearth; on the
other, the little room which was the parson’s drawing-room, parlour,
and study.[31]
Two years ago there was a great conflagration opposite this church, a
number of cottages were burnt, and some of the villagers had narrow
escapes.
This is three miles from Winchester, and a mile further on I came to
Mr. Carrick Moore’s house, his large stables for racehorses, and a
field laid out with jumps for training steeplechasers. The racecourse
is not far from this on the right. Racing has long been a favourite
amusement at Winchester. In 1634 a cup was provided by the city; and
again in 1705, when Queen Anne was here, the kindly civic chest was
not appealed to in vain. This was an improvement on the old sport
of bull-baiting, for which it had been ordered that two Winchester
butchers should provide two or three times a year one “sufficient
fighting bull,” the other butchers contributing 6d. each a year.