have quoted concerning the holy men of other days, it is certain, that
to them we are indebted for the noblest examples of ecclesiastical
architecture of which the world can boast; and the ruins of St. Osyth’s
Priory exhibit no mean specimen of their skill and industry.
The interior of the present mansion presents nothing that demands
particular notice, except one room called the “King’s Room,” fitted with
the furniture of the chamber in which George II. died (the Earl of
Rochford was groom of the stole at that period), consisting of the satin
mattress, crimson bed hangings, &c. &c.
The Church is a very ancient structure, built partly of brick, and
partly of flint and stone, situated nearly opposite the Priory. It has
recently undergone a thorough internal repair; new pews have been
erected, and a neat Gothic organ has been placed in a newly constructed
gallery. The roofs, which are lofty, are supported by massive oaken
beams, resting upon arches that spring from hexagon columns fluted on
four of their sides--the rafters in the northern aisle are boldly and
richly carved in various devices. While the repairs were in progress,
the Font, which had hitherto presented a plain surface, was accidentally
found to be finely ornamented; and the mortar with which the interstices
were filled being removed, it now presents the appearance exhibited in
our cut--the initial letter. The chancel is separated from the nave by a
low screen, behind which are the pews allotted to the Priory. The church
contains several monuments--chiefly raised in honour of the Darcys.
St. Osyth, standing as it does, in an isolated spot, and almost apart
from the business of active life, is scarcely known even to the Tourist.
It is, however, full of deep interest, and, we feel assured, might throw
considerable light upon the architecture of very remote periods; at all
events, it would afford enjoyment and information amply to repay a
lengthened visit of the antiquary.
[Illustration:
F. W. Hulme, Delᵗ. on Stone by W. L. Walton. M. & N. Hanhart, Lithogʳˢ.
BERKELEY CASTLE, GLOUCESTERSHIRE.]
BERKELEY CASTLE,
GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
[Illustration: B]ERKELEY is one of the most ancient of the manors of
England; it is styled a royal demesne and free borough in Domesday Book,
and, during the reign of Edward the Confessor, a religious house existed
there for nuns. This, having been forfeited, was granted to the famous
Earl Godwin; and a tradition still endures, that the crafty earl
obtained it by corrupting the inmates of the nunnery, whose dissolute
conduct he afterwards reported to the sovereign. By this wicked means he
obtained their possessions; but his consort, Gueda, refused maintenance
from lands thus acquired, and her lord assigned to her use the manor of
Woodchester. The history of the castle is full of the deepest interest,
from the Conquest to the close of the Civil War, and a few facts
collected from the statements of its many historians cannot fail to be
acceptable to our readers. William the Conqueror bestowed the manor on
Roger, surnamed De Berkeley, one of the soldiers of his invading army:
his grandson taking part with Stephen against Henry II., was deprived of
his inheritance, which was given by the king to Robert Fitzhardinge,
governor of Bristol, “a Dane of royal descent,” in reward for eminent
services; and with the posterity of this renowned knight the manor has
ever since remained.[24] By this Robert the castle is believed to have
been founded, and of the original structure the Keep is undoubtedly a
part. About the year 1186, the lord of Berkeley having occasion to widen
the castle moat, trespassed a few feet on the churchyard, which had been
granted by Robert Fitzhardinge to the abbey of St. Augustin at Bristol.
Richard, the first abbot, indignant at this infringement of
ecclesiastical rights, according to Fuller, “so persecuted him with
church censures, that he made him in a manner cast the dirt of the ditch
in his own face,” compelling him not only publicly to confess his fault,
but to bestow upon the abbey a portion of land, “pro emendatione culpæ
suæ.” About the middle of the thirteenth century the castle was
strengthened and beautified by Maurice, lord of Berkeley, walks and
gardens were formed around it, the course of a small river was changed
for its convenience, and pools and ponds were made for fish. By Edward
II. the castle was granted in succession to his favourites, Piers
Gavestone and Hugh Spencer, but his rebellious queen at the head of her
army restored it to its legitimate owner. Soon after this event, in
1327, the castle became the scene of a frightful tragedy--the murder of
the king under circumstances of unparalleled atrocity. Edward, then
imprisoned at Kenilworth, having been compelled to resign the crown in
favour of his son, was transferred to the safer keeping of Berkeley
Castle; but its lord manifesting proof of sympathy with the unhappy
sovereign, his relentless queen, by the counsel of her paramour,
Mortimer, placed in charge over him Sir Thomas Gournay and Sir John
Maltravers, who had the custody of the royal prisoner “month about.”
These men, taking advantage of the sickness of Berkeley, in whose
custody the king then was, and while he was incapacitated from attending
to his charge, entered the castle and took possession of the royal
person. The very place where the act was committed is still preserved
nearly intact; it is a detached and dismal chamber, then only lighted by
arrow slits, situated over the steps which lead into the keep, and its
appalling name of “The Dungeon Room,” is retained to this day. His
murderers threw the king on his bed, and so perpetrated the murder as to
avoid all external evidence of the cruel deed:--
“Mark the year and mark the night,
When Severn shall re-echo with affright;
The shrieks of death through Berkeley’s roofs that ring--
Shrieks of an agonising king!”
“His crie,” writes Hollinshed, “did move many within the castell and
town of Berkelei to compassion, plainelie hearing him utter a waileful
noyse, as the tormentors were about to murder him; so that dyvers being
awakened therebye (as they themselves confessed) prayed heartilie to God
to receyve his soule, when they understode by his crie how the matter
went.”[25] It is said that the monasteries of Bristol, Kingswood, and
Malmesbury, refused to receive the body, which was ultimately buried at
Gloucester, attended thereto, according to Fosbrooke, by the Berkeley
family, his heart being put in a silver vessel.[26]
Various additions were made to Berkeley Castle by subsequent lords.
Thomas, the eighth lord, in 1342, rebuilt the high tower on the north
side of the Keep (then in a state of decay), at a cost of 108_l._ 3_s._
1½_d._; it was called “Thorpe’s Tower,” from the tenure of one Thorpe,
who held his lands at Wanswell by the guard of it. “This lord also, at
subsequent periods, built that portion beyond the keep on the north-east
side, and gave to the castle its present shape and circumference.”
The records of the castle exhibit many singular and striking evidences
of the peculiar customs and manners of the several ages through which it
has passed. In 1250 the lord of Berkeley feasted with fish during Lent
the convent and abbey of Gloucester;[27] in 1273 marl was first used as
manure on the lands of Berkeley, which then let for sixpence per acre.
Thomas, the sixteenth earl, was much given to hunting;[28] in 1550 he
had a princely residence in Shoe Lane (then a fashionable quarter), and
used to hunt daily in Gray’s Inn Fields and about Islington. In 1572, on
the occasion of Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Berkeley, “27 stagges were
slaine in one day,” much to the displeasure of the earl, who “sodainely
and passionately” desparked the ground. The visit was supposed to have
been contrived by the Earl of Leicester, in order to provoke Lord
Berkeley, and thus “draw upon him the royal disfavour.”
The castle was the last place which held out against Cromwell; it was
surrendered on the 26th September, 1645, the soldiers marching out
without arms, the officers with arms.[29]
Bounded on the north by the churchyard and on the south by a
bowling-green, bordered
[Illustration]
with a yew-hedge clipped into fantastic forms and arcades by the
gardener’s art, a small embattled gate-lodge affords access to the outer
court of Berkeley Castle. This court, having on its south side the
beautiful park scenery, and in front of the spectator the fine and
massive walls of the Keep, with the Thorpe Tower bearing on its summit
the Berkeley banner, forms a picture of true baronial grandeur. The
inner gateway still retains the groove of its portcullis, and is flanked
on either side by cannon taken from St. Jean d’Acre during its siege by
the Hon. Captain Berkeley, when commanding the Thunderer. Over the
archway is a state-room, from which a narrow winding passage, cut in the
thickness of the wall, affords a communication with the keep.
Emerging from the gateway, the visitor enters a quadrangle formed by the
buildings erected by the eighth Lord Berkeley, the keep, and the tower
said to have been the scene of the unfortunate Edward II.’s murder.
Crossing the quadrangle, the hall is entered by an open porch having a
doorway of singular form. The hall has lost many of its ancient
features, but is still a very fine apartment, sixty-one feet in length,
thirty-two feet six inches in breadth, and of the same height. At the
entrance end is the minstrels’ gallery, with doorways under leading to
the steward’s room and buttery-hatch, and at the opposite extremity is
the dais, raised two steps from the floor. Large and deeply recessed
windows on the sides give light to the apartment, and from the upper end
the staircase is entered, which affords access to the principal
apartments. In the chapel is an eagle lettern, supporting a Bible of the
date of 1640; there is also a cast of the face of Charles I., and a
fragment of Roman sculpture. The drawing-room, dining-room,
breakfast-room, music-room, and the several other chambers, are all well
“fitted up,” and contain some family portraits and pictures of a good
but not superlative class of art. Many articles of furniture, of the
time of Elizabeth and James, are interspersed throughout the rooms,
among which may be named a handsome bed in the little state-room, and
another in the room said to have been occupied by Queen Elizabeth. There
is also a room called Admiral Drake’s room, containing a bedstead,
chairs, and wash-hand-stand of ebony, all of which were used by him
during his voyage round the world.
The objects of more peculiar interest, however, in this noble building
are the apartments connected with Edward II.’s imprisonment and
tragical fate; viz. the Dungeon-Room, and the chamber adopted by general
tradition as the scene of his murder. A passage by the side of the
former receives light from the window which opens into the court, and
this passage also affords communication with a small room which may have
been a guard-chamber; but the Dungeon-Room is itself without light, and
a trap-door in the floor discloses when opened a darksome, dry well,
sunk down some nine or ten yards. It has been asserted that the
[Illustration]
smell from dead carcases thrown into this well was one of the sources of
annoyance to which the monarch was subjected, and this would seem to
identify the room as his place of abode; but Hollinshed’s statement
“that his crie was heard by many in the town of Berkelei,” is held as
more applicable to the room adjoining the keep, which we now
describe.[30]
To the left on entering the inner quadrangle, and attached to the Keep,
is a square tower of two stories, and on a platform of four or five
steps stands an early English arch, surmounted by a still earlier Norman
label-moulding, attesting the antiquity of this tower. A flight of steps
from thence gives access to the level of the base court of the keep. At
the side of these steps a narrow gangway or gallery, protected by a rude
and antique timber-shed roof, leads to a room of irregular form and
small dimensions extending
[Illustration]
over the staircase, lighted by two deeply recessed windows opening to
the outer court, and secured by a strong oak door communicating with the
before-named gallery.
An old chair, an old carved four-post bedstead, and in a most
suspiciously recessed angular nook, an old black-looking pallet-bed,
form the furniture of this room, all, though tattered and time-worn,
bearing evidence of some former splendour in decoration. It does not
require much stretch of imagination for the adoption of this chamber as
the scene of
“Murder most foul and most unnatural!”
And a bust of the wretched king standing in one of the window recesses,
with its face veiled in shadow, seems mutely but powerfully to appeal to
[Illustration]
those feelings of pity which cannot fail to be excited by the view of
this dreary abode of royalty.
Emerging into the open court, a highly enriched Norman archway is found,
which forms the entrance into the courtyard of the keep, where, at some
ten or twelve yards above the base-court, a number of wild ducks are
quietly domiciled in a small pond formed in its centre, and where they
have remained for some years contrary to their nature, apparently
without a wish for change. From thence the ramparts are ascended, and a
fine view is obtained of the surrounding country.
The Church is a fine early structure adjoining the castle, and attached
to its south side is the mortuary chapel of the Berkeley family--a
richly groined edifice, divided
[Illustration]
into two compartments by a handsome stone screen, the inner or eastern
apartment containing several monuments of the family. The altar end is
blocked up by a fine Elizabethan tomb of Sir Henry Berkeley, who died in
1613; his first wife’s effigies are placed by his side. Under an arch,
opening into the south side of the chancel, is a highly enriched and
decorated altar-tomb, on which lie the effigies of another Earl of
Berkeley and his son. It is a beautiful specimen of the period, divided
into fourteen niches, having floriated canopies, under which are figures
on pedestals--the Virgin and Child, St. Christopher with our Saviour,
St. George and the dragon, and St. Peter, are among the number.
The groining of the chapel is curious, as containing in its several
bosses and panels a connected set of emblems referring to the awful
mystery of the Holy Trinity, with a most unaccountable interpolation of
the monkish satires of the fox preaching to geese, a monkey holding a
bottle, &c.
The churchyard contains a monument to the last of those privileged
characters, the “fool” or jester of the nobility. He was in the employ
of the Earl of Suffolk, and appears to have been lent to Lord Berkeley.
He was buried 18th June, 1728. At the end of the monument are the arms
of the earl, and on one side this inscription,--
“My lord that’s gone, himself made much of him!”
On the opposite side are these lines written by Dean Swift, who was
chaplain to Charles Earl of Berkeley:--
“Here lies the Earl of Suffolk’s fool,
Men call him Dicky Pearce;
His folly served to make men laugh,
When wit and mirth were scarce.
Poor Dick, alas! is dead and gone--
What signifies to cry?
Dickies enough are left behind
To laugh at by and by.”
The village bears the half-maritime character usual in places near the
sea, or an arm of
[Illustration]
the sea, and has some old buildings about it, of which the annexed
sketch is a specimen. It may, however, be justly celebrated as the
birthplace of Dr. Jenner, by whom cowpock inocculation was first
introduced. He was buried at Berkeley, and will ever be remembered with
gratitude as the successful combatant of that fearful disease, whose
ravages were so finely alluded to by Admiral Berkeley, when, advocating
his claims in the House of Commons, he said, that “not a _second_ is
struck by the hand of Time but a victim is sacrificed at the altar of
that most horrible of all disorders--the small-pox.”
Wandering through the ancient and venerable Halls, consecrated by time,
the mind associates with every solemn nook some memorable passage of its
eventful history. Ages have wrought comparatively little change in its
external and internal aspect. There are no indications of ruin, and few
even of neglect, in this famous baronial castle. The fancy is scarcely
taxed to behold again, seated on the dais, its powerful lords--mirrors
of chivalry: we seem almost to hear the minstrels recite the praises of
descendants of the royal Dane, who fought and conquered by the side of
the Conqueror; we behold his successors, in one unbroken line for
centuries, surrounded by their vassals, holding regal sway; we tread the
very steps which a deposed and death-doomed monarch trod in grievous
captivity; and although we shudder at entering the dark chamber in which
he was so foully murdered, we feel pity for, rather than anger towards,
that “Lord of Berkeley” who was certainly guiltless of the deed, and
whose weapon would have forced aside the hands of remorseless butchers.
Berkeley Castle is a fine study for the antiquary; a full page for the
historian: it illustrates with singular force the customs of our
ancestors; exhibits their state of perpetual “watch and ward;” the
frowning Keep speaks audibly; and every winding staircase and chamber,
small or large, is fertile of story.
The neighbourhood, too, retains much of its primitive character. One may
imagine the peasants and farmers, whose quaint homesteads environ the
strong castle--the dependants and retainers of four centuries ago.
So few of these “old places” have been preserved to our time,
“unimproved” by modern “taste,” that a visit to Berkeley is like a
refreshing draught of pure water in an arid plain, to those who mourn
over removals of the ancient landmarks of their ancestors.
“In surveying Berkeley Castle,”--we quote the fine apostrophe of
Dallaway--“this proud monument of feudal splendour and magnificence, the
very genius of chivalry seems to present himself amidst the venerable
remains, with a sternness and majesty of air and feature which shew what
he once has been, and a mixture of disdain for the degenerate posterity
that robbed him of his honours. Amidst such a scene the manly exercises
of knighthood recur to the imagination in their full pomp and solemnity;
while every patriot feeling beats at the remembrance of the generous
virtues which were nursed in those schools of fortitude, honour,
courtesy, and wit--the mansions of our ancient nobility!”
[Illustration:
Drawn by F. W. Hulme. on Stone by W. Walton. M. & N. Hanhart, Lithogʳˢ
BRAMSHILL, HAMPSHIRE]
BRAMSHILL HOUSE,
HAMPSHIRE.
[Illustration: B]RAMSHILL HOUSE is one of the most perfect of the
remaining mansions of the time of James the First. It is said to have
been erected for the excellent Prince Henry--by whom it was never
inhabited, his death having occurred before the building was completely
finished. It became the property of the Lords Zouch, from whom it
subsequently passed to the family of Cope--the present proprietor being
Sir John Cope, Bart. The wings are comparatively plain, constructed of
brick, with stone dressings; but the centre is elaborately built of
stone, finely carved and profusely decorated. It supplies a striking
example of the peculiar architecture of the period, when “Italian
improvements” were earliest introduced into, and mixed up with, our “old
Gothic manner.” This central portion of the structure is carried up in
rich compartments, with pilasters, from story to story, surmounted
[Illustration]
by a pediment of the same character, which bears the coronet of the
Prince for whom the building is said to have been designed.
The interior is even more primitive and unimpaired than the exterior.
The old Hall is floored and wainscotted with oak; the ceiling is
enriched, and the walls are hung with family portraits in antique
frames, in admirable keeping with the staid and solemn aspect of the
venerable structure. The apartments throughout the mansion are of the
same interesting class. In the principal drawing-room, the needle
rivals the pencil upon the tapestried walls; every chamber retains
unaltered its ancient character: the furniture and “garnishings” are of
other days; the massive fire-places still afford space for the
hospitable yule log; and in the chairs and couches that throng the
several apartments, we see the quaint and elaborate carvings and
embroidered coverings which exhibit the skill and industry of gone-by
times. All things within the mansion are in harmony with the impressive
grandeur it derives from age. Circumstances have happily existed to
prevent the coarse assaults of the modern Renovator; and Bramshill House
remains--and, we hope, will long continue--a fine example of the period
of its erection.
Such “Houses” are rarely encountered now-a-days--a mansion so little
altered, within and without, that Imagination may readily recal its
ancient occupants, peopling the long galleries, shadowed recesses, and
spacious Hall, with the formal and stately Dames and Knights of the
period when it was erected. There are, indeed, few places that are so
easily associated with the past; one might almost fancy that the very
chairs and tables have been unmoved during two whole centuries.
The House is auspiciously situated: it stands on rising ground, and
commands extensive prospects of the surrounding country. It has recently
obtained augmented importance in consequence of the visit of Her
Majesty, Queen Victoria, who, while a guest of his Grace the Duke of
Wellington, examined the old mansion of Bramshill, which is distant
about six miles from Strathfieldsaye.
[Illustration:
F. W. Hulme, Delt. on Stone by W. Walton. M & N. Hanhart, Lithogʳˢ.
HATFIELD HOUSE, HERTFORDSHIRE.]
HATFIELD HOUSE,
HERTFORDSHIRE.
[Illustration: H]ATFIELD HOUSE is finely placed on the summit of a
gently swelling hill, close to the little town of Hatfield. Few old
English mansions have a more general or varied interest. Whether we
consider its architectural merits, its historical associations, or the
picturesque attractions by which it is surrounded, its claims to our
regard are neither few nor small. Seven centuries have passed away since
Hatfield became a place of note; and the crown, the mitre, and the
coronet, have successively held sway over its destinies. Of the
architectural glories of Hatfield, little now remains of a date anterior
to the time of James I., in whose reign the present noble house was
built by John Thorp. A part, however, of the previous _palace_ of
Hatfield still exists, interesting as the place of residence of the
Princess Elizabeth, afterwards queen, during the reign of her sister,
Mary. Nor was her residence here, though compulsory, a state of
imprisonment and oppression, as some have said; for it has been proved,
from various records, that she met with considerate treatment, and lived
in a state befitting her high rank and queenly prospects. On the death
of Mary, Elizabeth proceeded hence to take possession of the
throne.[31]
Since the reign of James I., Hatfield has been the property and
principal residence of the family of Cecil. William Cecil, afterwards
Lord Treasurer Burleigh, laid the
[Illustration]