<g>Kent</g>.
Qui, dans ces temps affreux de discorde et d’alarmes
Vit les grands coups de lance et les nobles faits d’armes
De nos preux chevaliers, des “Bayards,” des Henris;
Aujourd’hui la moisson flotte sur ses débris!
Ces débris, cette triste et mâle architecture
Qu’environné une fraiche et riante verdure.
The royal palace of Eltham is a subject which has often engaged the
historian’s pen and the pencil of the artist; and, as intimately
associated with many national events, it possesses an interest to which
neither the lapse of time nor its own decay can ever render us
indifferent. A visit to the “old Hall of Eltham,” forms one of those
incidents in life to which we look back with as much pleasure as the
pilgrim was wont to do after he had paid his devotions at the “shrine of
our Lady of Walsingham.” Every feature in this primitive abode of kings,
this favourite resort of our native princes, arrests attention, and
carries us back into the days of chivalry and romance. While sauntering
through its deserted, and, as we may truly say, its desecrated court,
imagination delights to expatiate among those recorded scenes of court
festivity, military fêtes, and national solemnities, of which it has so
often been the scene. The very echoes which, if at all disturbed, now
only reply to the thresher’s song or the lowing of cattle, were once
roused into loud and long-continued reverberations by the plaudits of
knights within, and popular acclamations from without. In the twilight,
the dim figures of its long line of possessors seem to flit before our
eyes; while the mind is busily occupied in filling up the picture, from
the days of Edward the Confessor down to those of James the First:
“Again, again, along the wizard’s glass,
In waving plumes they reappear and pass.”
It is gratifying to think that, whilst the plough may be said to have
passed over many of our classic and historical sites, the Hall of Eltham
is still spared. The ground on which it stands is sacred in the eyes of
every patriot: it is an interesting field of study for the artist and
antiquary; and in beauty of situation challenges the admiration of the
most ordinary observer. Its position on a gently elevated surface,
commanding a fine view in nearly every direction, surrounded by an
extensive chase, and in the immediate vicinity of the capital, made
Eltham highly eligible as an occasional residence for the sovereign. But
the surrounding country has undergone so many alterations, Eltham itself
is so shrunk, dilapidated, and “curtailed of its fair proportions,” that
it is impossible to form a just estimate of what it must have been
during the feudal period; adorned, as it undoubtedly was, with all the
embellishments of art, inhabited by kings, with “kings for their
guests,” and frequented by the élite of English beauty and chivalry.
Enough remains, however, to fill a long summer day with agreeable
amusement and profitable entertainment; and to those who take pleasure
in contemplating such monuments of the regal sway in England, the old
palace of Eltham has attractions peculiarly its own.
Nearly all the writers who have given their attention to the topography
of Eltham and its vicinity, complain of the great want of authentic
records, for the satisfactory elucidation of its early history. This is
a subject of much regret; obscurity is intimately connected with the
origin of the place; the documents which we possess consist chiefly of
those casual notices embodied in the old Chronicles, where the subject
is of only secondary consideration, and often merely alluded to by way
of illustration. During the last twenty years, particularly since the
discoveries of some subterranean passages within the walls, Eltham has
been a subject of frequent description in the periodicals[82] of the
day; and that frequency is a proof how much it has attracted, and still
continues to attract, the public attention.
In the well-known county histories of Kent, as well as in all the
topographical works which we have seen, the description of Eltham is
given in nearly the same words, each successive writer contenting
himself with what he has read, rather than what he had personally
observed in the venerable ruin itself. We are far from presuming to do
much more than our predecessors in the same walk; but, as the objects of
our study and research are chiefly to ascertain and retail what has been
_done_, rather than what is to be seen at Eltham, we shall, as usual,
willingly avail ourselves of the old chronicles as our principal
authorities, and, avoiding mere technical description, endeavour to
bring the subject home to the mind and eye of the reader. But whilst to
a certain class of readers we can only address the following well-known
lines--
“Oisifs de nos cités, dont la mollesse extrême
Ne veut que ces plaisirs où l’on fuit soi-même,
Qui craignez de sentir, d’éveiller vos langueurs,
Ces tableaux éloquents sont muets pour vous”--
to another, a more congenial fraternity, we can speak with confidence,
and calculate on their sympathy and support:
“Mais toi, qui des beaux-arts sens les flammes divines,
Ton âme entend la voix des cercueils, des ruines;
De la destruction recherchant les travaux,
Des états écroulés tu fouilles les tombeaux.
Tu lis, le cœur saisi d’un agréable effroi,
La marche de ce temps qui roule aussi sur toi;
Quel livre à ton génie offrent de tels décombres!”
Eltham, anciently written Ealdham and Aletham, carries a proof of its
antiquity in the very name, which is a compound of two Saxon words
signifying the old home, town, or dwelling; “heim,” being still the
modern German word used to express the same meaning, and, with some
characteristic prefix, is frequent in Saxon topography. But this is so
well known as scarcely to require a passing remark. Bounded by
Greenwich, Woolwich, Plumsted, and Kidbrook on the north; by Bexley on
the east; Chiselhurst and Mottingham on the south, and the picturesque
village of Lee on the west, Eltham enjoys most of the advantages that
result from a position in the centre of a rich cultivated neighbourhood.
[Illustration]
The manor of Eltham is said to have existed as a royal demesne in the
time of Edward the Confessor; to have been given by William the
Conqueror to one of his family, Odo Earl of Kent, and Bishop of
Bayeux,[83] after whose disgrace and banishment, it reverted partly to
the crown and partly to the Norman family of Mandeville, from whom it
took the name of Eltham-Mandeville. That portion which fell to the crown
was, according to Dugdale, given by Edward the First to John de Vesci,
who was related to queen Eleanor by his marriage with Isabel de
Beaumont, and afterwards, by an exchange of other lands with Walter de
Mandeville, became sole proprietor of the manor. We shall not, however,
detain our readers by tracing the descent with genealogical minuteness.
From the Vesci family it passed into that of de Ayton--thence to Scroop
of Masham; who afterwards presented it to queen Isabel in 1318, or
probably a year later. About the middle of the following century, it was
granted to Robert Dauson for seven years; and in the beginning of his
reign, Henry the Eighth bestowed it successively upon Sir Henry
Guildford, Comptroller of the Household, and Sir Thomas Speke. By Edward
the Sixth it was granted to Sir John Gates, lieutenant of the Tower,
who was afterwards executed for high-treason; and down to the close of
Queen Elizabeth’s reign, it was successively held of the crown by
William Cromer and Lord Cobham. On the accession of King Charles the
First, it was held in lease by the Earl of Dorset; but in the time of
the Commonwealth, Eltham manor was seized by the Parliament, and, along
with the manor-house then called Eltham Place, and great part of the
demesne lands, was valued and sold to Nathaniel Rich of Fulham. At the
restoration a renewal of the lease was obtained on purchase, by Sir John
Shaw.--For these brief particulars we are indebted to an “Account of
Eltham,” printed about fifty years ago, and drawn up from standard
authorities on the subject.
We shall next advert to the historical incidents which connect Eltham
Palace with the record of public transactions, while it was the
residence of successive monarchs, and the resort of all who were most
distinguished in the court history of their day; and then conclude with
a brief account of it as it now appears, with all its “venerable scars
and chronicled events” clustered together under the roof of its ancient
Hall.
During the reign of the early monarchs, and more particularly during
that of Henry the Third, Edward the First, and Richard the Second,
Eltham appears to have been the _locale_ chosen for the celebration of
those court pageantries, and gorgeous festivals of the church, which
softened the sterner features of the age, smoothed asperities, and
brought the serf into friendly communion with his suzerain. In 1270,
Henry the Third and his queen, attended by all the chief men of the
state, kept open court at Eltham during the Christmas holidays, making
merry with their attendant lords and ladies, and dispensing much
generous hospitality to strangers.
Anthony Beck, Bishop of Durham and Patriarch of Jerusalem, who died at
Eltham in 1311, is said to have expended great treasure on the fresh
“edification and adornment” of the palace. He “builded,” says Stow, “the
manor house, and gave it to the queen;” but this, as appears from “the
statement given in the descent of the manor,” it was not in his power to
have done. “Beck,” says the author of a paper on this subject, already
quoted,[84] was a trustee under the will of William de Vesci; and the
only way in which the fact can be reconciled is, by supposing him to
have betrayed his trust, and to have obtained fraudulent possession of
the estate.” “This prelate,” says Mr. Hutchinson, in his History of
Durham, “merits notice for the singularity of his character; he led the
van of Edward the First’s army gallantly against the Scots, at the
battle of Falkirk, and dared even to make a harsh retort to a reproof
from that stern monarch. At Rome, he opposed single-handed a body of
ruffians who had entered his house. So active was his mind, that he
always rose when his first sleep was over, saying ‘It was beneath a man
to turn in his bed.’ He was so modest, that although he smiled at the
frown of a king, he never could lift his eyes to the face of a woman;
and when the remains of Saint William were to be removed to York, he was
the only prelate whose ‘conscious chastity’ permitted him to touch the
sacred bones. And yet this mirror of purity could defraud the natural
son of his friend, the Lord Vesci, of a large estate which had been
trusted to the Bishop’s honour.[85] Beck loved military parade and had
always knights and soldiers about him, and through vanity was prompted
to spend immense sums. For forty fresh herrings he once gave a sum equal
to forty pounds sterling; and a piece of cloth, which had proverbially
been said to be ‘too dear for the Bishop of Durham,’ he bought and cut
out into horse-cloths. To conclude--this haughty prelate once seized a
palfrey of King Edward as a deodand; and at last broke his heart at
being excommunicated by the Archbishop of York.”
[Illustration]
Eltham was also the favourite residence of Edward the Second, whose son
being born here, received the name of John of Eltham: a circumstance in
which originated the common error of its having been the palace of King
John. At twelve years of age, this prince was created Earl of Cornwall;
was appointed “custos of the citie of London:” died in Scotland in the
flower of his age, and was buried in Westminster, where his monument is
one of the chief sepulchral ornaments.
It was here, in his palace of Eltham, that Edward the Third held several
parliaments; in one of which his faithful commons petitioned him to make
his grandson, Richard of Bordeaux, Prince of Wales. In 1364, the same
monarch gave a splendid banquet at Eltham, in honour of King John of
France, whom the fate of war had made his prisoner, but whose captivity
was soothed by every demonstration of respect and hospitality on the
part of his royal brother and his consort. “The court of this
sovereign,” says Warner, “was the very theatre of sumptuous carousal and
romantic elegance. The martial amusements of tilts and tournaments,
which were always accompanied by splendid feasts, were so much
encouraged, that we have instances of their being solemnly celebrated by
royal command, in different cities, no less than seven times in the
course of one year.” “This gentle king of England,” says Froissart, “the
better to feste these strange lordes and all their company, held a great
court on Trinity Monday in the Friers, whereat he and the queene his
mother were lodged, keeping their house eche of them apart. At this
feaste, the king had well five hundred knights, and fifteen were new
made. And the queene had well in her courte sixty ladies and damozelles.
There might be seen great nobles, plenty of all manner of straunge
vitaile. There were ladies and damozelles freshely apparelled, ready to
have daunced if they might have leave.” The above, though applied by
Froissart to the reception of John of Hainault, was a general feature in
the court life of this period; and it is no wonder that King John of
France, whom Prince Edward had pronounced “the bravest of knights,”
found the weight of captivity much lightened in the congenial atmosphere
of Eltham palace.
The evening of Edward’s reign, however, exhibited a very different
picture. Feast and tournament were gone, or rather the pleasures which
they had once furnished to that chivalrous monarch during a long
protracted reign, had now lost their zest. He spent the last months of
his life between Eltham palace and his manor at Shene. “Decay,” says the
historian, “had fallen heavy on body and spirit; he was incapable of
doing much, and he did nothing. The ministers and courtiers crowded
round the Duke of Lancaster, Prince Richard, and his mother. The old man
was left to his mistress; and even she, it is said, after drawing his
valuable ring from his finger, abandoned him in his dying moments,”
The splendour of Eltham, however, was speedily revived in the person of
his grandson, Richard the Second, whose reign, dazzling at its
commencement, inglorious in its course, and disastrous at its close, the
poet Gray has thus strikingly depicted:--
“Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o’er the azure realm,
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind’s sway,
That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
“Fill high the sparkling bowl!
The rich repast prepare;
Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast.
Close by the regal chair,
Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
A baneful smile upon their baffled guest.”
Of the numerous historical scenes and incidents connected with King
Richard’s sumptuous court at Eltham, a very few may be here introduced
as characteristic of an age when “the example of the monarch sanctioned
the extravagance of the subject.” He celebrated in particular three
Christmases at Eltham, at which every imaginable entertainment was
provided for a court overflowing with all the beauty and chivalry that
could flatter a monarch, and scatter flowers over the dangerous
precipice to which he was hastening. “The king,” says Hollinshed, “kept
the greatest part, and maintained the most plentiful house that ever any
king in England did, either before his time or since; for there resorted
daily to his court above ten thousand persons, that had meat and drinke
there allowed them. In his kitchen there were three hundred servitors,
and every other officer was furnished after the like rate. Of ladies,
chamberers, and landerers, there were above three hundred at the least;
and in precious and costlie apparell they exceeded all measure.
[Illustration]
Yeomen and groomes were clothed in silks, with cloth of graine and
skarlet, over sumptuous, ye may be sure, for their estates. And this
vanitie was not onelie used in the court in those dayes, but also other
people abroad, in the townes and countries, had their garments cut far
otherwise than had been accustomed before his daies, with embroderies,
rich furs, and goldsmith’s worke, and everie daie there was devising of
new fashions, to the great hinderance and decaie of the
commonwealth.”--Page 508, sect. 10.
From this description, the reader may easily picture what must have been
the splendid profusion which marked King Richard’s doings at Eltham,
when arriving with his gorgeous retinue from the capital, he “courted
repose” in a new and most extravagant series of festivities. The
extensive park, which spread its wooded avenues in all directions,
afforded ample scope for the indulgence in silvan sports; while
minstrels, jesters, and jongleurs drove ennui from the gate, and kept
the monarch and his guests in a continued enjoyment of mirthful
excitement. On one of these occasions, the arrival in England of a guest
of no ordinary station was announced, and on the following day was
received by the king and queen at Eltham. “This,” says Speed, “was Leo,
King of Armenia, a Christian prince, whom the Tartars had expelled out
of his kingdom. The pretence of his negotiation was to accord the realms
of England and France, that the princes thereof might, with joint
forces, remove the common enemy from Christendome. Therein he could
effect nothing; but his journey was not otherwise unfruitful to himself;
for King Richard, a prince, to speak truly, full of honour and bountie,
gave him, besides a thousand pounds in a ship of gold, letters patent,
also, for a thousand pounds yearly pension during life.”
Eltham Palace was also the scene of the following incident in the court
life of King Richard. “The king having proclaimed that he would hold a
solemn feast at his palace here on Palm Sunday, invitations were sent to
the Dukes of Lancaster and York, and the Lords of the Council, to be in
attendance for the occasion. When the day of the feast was arrived, and
all the lords had retired after dinner with the king to his
council-chamber, Earl Marshal, having settled in his own mind how to act
and what to say, threw himself upon his knees before the king and thus
addressed him:--‘Very dear and renowned Lord, I am of your kindred,
yʳliege man and marshal of England; and I have besides sworn on my
loyalty, my hand within yours, that I never would conceal from you
anything I might hear or see to your prejudice, on pain of being
accounted a disloyal traitor. This I am resolved never to be, but to
acquit myself before you and all the world.’ The king fixing his eyes
upon him, said, ‘Earl Marshal, what is your meaning in speaking thus? We
will know it.’ ‘Very dear Lord,’ replied the Earl, ‘as I have declared,
I will not keep any secret from you: order the Earl of Derby to come to
yʳpresence, and I will speak out.’ The Earl of Derby was called for,
and the king made the Earl Marshal rise, for he addressed him on his
knees. On the Earl Derby’s arrival, who thought no harm, the Earl
Marshal spoke as follows:--‘Earl of Derby, I charge you with having
thought and spoken disrespectfully of your natural lord the king of
England, when you said he was unworthy to hold the crown; that without
law or justice, or consulting his council, he disturbed the realm; and
that without any shadow of reason, he banished those valiant men from
his kingdom who ought to be its defenders; for all of which I present my
glove, and will prove, my body against yours, that you are a false and
wicked traitor.’
“The Earl of Derby was confounded at this address, and retired a few
paces without demanding from the Duke his father, or any of his friends,
how he should act. Having mused awhile, he advanced with his hood in his
hand towards the king, and said, ‘Earl Marshal, I say that thou art a
false and wicked traitor, which I will boldly prove on thee, and here is
my glove!’ The Earl Marshal seeing his challenge was accepted, showed a
good desire for the combat by taking up the glove and saying, ‘I refer
your answer to the good pleasure of the king and the lords now present.
I will prove that your words are false, and that my words are true.’
Each of those lords then withdrew in company of his friends, and the
time for serving wine and spices was passed by; for the king showed he
was sore displeased, and retiring to his chamber, shut himself in....
When the day for the combat was at hand, and the two lords waited only
for the king’s commands, King Richard’s secret advisers asked, ‘Sire,
what is your pleasure respecting this combat? will you permit your two
cousins the Earl of Derby and Earl Marshal to proceed?’ ‘Why not?’
replied the king; ‘I intend to be present myself and see their prowess.’
The king’s advisers showed great firmness in resisting his
determination, and showed him some very cogent and unexpected reasons
for his adopting another course, at which,” as the chronicler relates,
“the king changed colour. Shortly after, a great council of the chief
nobles and prelates was summoned at Eltham. The Earl of Derby and the
Earl Marshal were sent for and put into separate chambers, for they were
not permitted to meet, when after certain preliminaries the king’s
pleasure was thus delivered in presence of the assembly: ‘I order that
the Earl Marshal, for having caused trouble in this kingdom, by uttering
words which he could not prove otherwise than by common report, be
banished the realm for life. I also order that the Earl of Derby our
cousin, for having angered us, and because he has been in some measure
the cause of the Earl Marshal’s crime and punishment, prepare to leave
the kingdom in fifteen days, and be banished hence for the term of ten
years.’” Our readers will find other particulars in Froissart; but our
chief inducement in selecting these passages is, their being scenes
which actually transpired at Eltham, and at the same time are highly
characteristic of the manners of that age. We ought not to omit
mentioning, however, that “on the day the Earl of Derby mounted his
horse to leave London, upwards of fifty thousand men were in the
streets, bitterly lamenting his departure.”
In 1405, King Henry the Fourth “celebrated his Christmas” here, after
the manner of his predecessors; and on this occasion, says the
chronicle, the Duke of York was “accused of an intention of breaking
into the palace, by scaling the walls, and murdering the king.” The same
monarch kept open court at Eltham on two subsequent occasions, and was
residing in the palace when seized with the malady of which he died. But
these festivals were celebrated with even more than former splendour by
King Henry the Sixth. By Edward the Fourth the palace was repaired and
embellished at great expense; and here his daughter Bridget
Plantagenet--who became a nun of Dartford--was born, and next day
baptized in the palace chapel by the Bishop of Winchester. Three years
later, Eltham palace was again the scene of magnificent banquets and
shows, during which two thousand persons were daily entertained at the
king’s expense. King Henry the Seventh built the front of the palace
towards the moat, and frequently resided in it; but he was the last of a
long race of sovereigns who honoured it with any lengthened visit; for
although Henry the Eighth[86] celebrated two Christmases here, the royal
visits had now become “few and far between;” and one of the last
occasions on which the palace was made the scene of a great court
festival, was that appointed for his conferring the honours of the
peerage upon Sir Edward Stanley, of Hornby Castle, in Lancashire, whose
services at the battle of Flodden have already been noticed in these
pages.
His claims to that honour were founded on his being “one of the most
discreet persons, and justices of the peace, for assessing and
collecting a subsidy of one hundred and sixty-three thousand pounds by a
poll-tax;” of his having commanded the rear of the English army at
Flodden-field, and forced the Scots, by the power of his archers, to
descend the hill, which, by causing them to open their ranks, gave the
first hopes of that day’s victory.[87] The ceremonial on this occasion
was stamped with all the gorgeous display so usual in that reign; but as
a contagious disorder was then raging in London, none were permitted to
dine at the “king’s hall at Eltham,” except the officers of arms, who,
“at the serving in of the king’s second course of meat, entered,
according to custom, and proclaimed the king’s style and title, and also
that of the new lord.”
During the civil war, Robert Earl of Essex occupied the palace of
Eltham, and dying here, was buried in Westminster Abbey. On the
establishment of the Commonwealth, it was seized by the Parliament, and
sold; the parks were broken into, the deer dispersed or killed by the
soldiers and the mob; and the work of devastation once begun, continued
till the greater part of the palace was reduced to a state of ruin.[88]
[Illustration]
At last, however, the beauty of Greenwich and the great convenience of
the river as a channel of communication with the capital, gradually
deprived Eltham of court patronage. Its palace was only enlivened at
long intervals by the presence of royalty; while its rival, the new
Placentia, grew more and more in favour, till it became the habitual
residence of the sovereign, and the scene of those splendid exhibitions
which subsequently characterized the reigns of Henry the Eighth[89] and
his magnanimous daughter, Queen Elizabeth. The latter, during her
infancy, was often taken to the “Old House of Eltham” for change of air;
and on coming to the throne, paid it an occasional visit of recognition.
But it was no longer considered fit for a royal establishment; and,
although visited by King James and his successor, it never regained any
share of its former importance; but, being every year more and more
neglected, it became at last a splendid ruin, yet a monument on which
were inscribed the early chronicles of the English monarchy. But,
although the property reverted to the crown at the Restoration, no
pains were taken by government to protect the ruin from violence and
spoliation. On the contrary, the old palace was turned into a quarry,
and all the materials that could be converted to use were gradually
removed and sold. Fortunately for the Hall, it was considered by some
influential observer on the spot that it would make a good barn;[90] and
to this accidental circumstance we are chiefly indebted for its
preservation.
The three parks attached to the palace, with the demesne lands, extended
over sixteen hundred and fifty-two acres, on which grew seven thousand
seven hundred trees; of which four thousand were declared in the Survey
to be “old and decayed,” and the remainder were marked out for the use
of the navy.[91] A book, called the Mysteries of the Good Old Cause,
published in 1660, says, “Sir Thomas Walsingham had the Honour of Eltham
given him, which was the Earl of Dorset’s, and the middle Park, which
was Mr. White’s. He has cut down five thousand pounds’ worth of timber,
and has scarcely left a tree to make a gibbet.”
[Illustration]
<g>The Approach.</g>--The royal Hall is visible at a considerable distance;
and, from various points of Blackheath and its vicinity, forms an
interesting landmark to the stranger. This, however, is chiefly during
the winter and spring months; for as soon as the trees resume their
foliage, it is lost among the wooded landscape, or only seen by glimpses
through the straggling trees of the park--remnants of that primeval
forest by which it was once surrounded. In the immediate approach, the
first objects that catch the eye are masses of ancient wall, thickly
mantled with ivy, at the base of which the water of the original moat
still keeps its bed. Over this, an ancient bridge of three arches leads
to the inclosure, once covered with the habitations of royalty, but now
reduced to this solitary hall, and flanked on the left by several
dwelling-houses, that harmonize much better with our modern ideas of
comfort than the moated walls of antiquity. Halting on the bridge for a
few minutes, the effect of the scene from that point is at once
pleasing and impressive. On the left, overhanging the moat, which here
forms a very small but picturesque sheet of water,[92] is a modern
farm-house in a pleasing rustic style, with a balcony supported on
slender pillars that rest on the edge of the fosse below. On the margin
of the water opposite, is a small fresh lawn, bordered with shrubbery,
and covered with that _beau gazon_ on which the eye delights to repose.
This spot, including the house, a projecting gallery, and several other
compartments, presents an excellent subject for a cabinet picture. The
bank of the moat was an extensive work, and of much greater magnitude on
the west and south sides than towards the north, composing a terrace to
the south of at least one hundred feet broad.
The design of the palace[93] was quadrangular. The hall, surmounted by
its louvre, rose above the other edifices, standing in a direction
nearly due east and west; and the common rule was observed of limiting
the general elevation to two stories. Like other castellated mansions,
the outline was irregular, towers and projecting masses breaking the
line at intervals with picturesque effect. The area of the palace was an
imperfect square, surrounded by buildings on the north and west, and
partly inclosed on the other two sides, the centre being occupied by
four quadrangles, of which two towards the west were of large
dimensions, and formed wide and spacious courts. Standing on an eminence
of greater elevation than any in the immediate district except
Shooter’s-hill, the ground sloped gently away towards the west, over a
rich and interesting landscape, including Blackheath, Greenwich Park,
and the Surrey hills, between which stood London with the lofty spire of
the old cathedral of St. Paul in view, and the insulated pile of
Westminster Abbey, then without towers; the distant heights of Highgate
terminating the background. It was surrounded by a moat inclosing above
an acre of ground within its limits.[94] The moat was about sixty feet
broad, except the portion towards the north entrance, where it was
increased to one hundred and fifteen feet. On the west side of the
bridge, the water of the moat still washed the old ivyed walls of the
palace--now reduced to little more than the foundations. In front,
through a few straggling elm-trees, the venerable old Hall presents
itself. The avenue to the door is flanked by two cottages, evidently
built out of the old materials of the palace, and now posted like
sentinels for the protection of its remains. In one of these resides the
female custode of the hall, who reaps no inconsiderable harvest from
the visitors who resort hither for a view of “King John’s Palace,” as it
is called.
[Illustration]
<g>Visit.</g>--Conducted by our guide, we once more entered the royal Hall of
Eltham, with such feelings as naturally accompany those who are treading
on that time-hallowed ground where history, tradition, and fiction, have
impressed their respective seals. Entering the door, a screen, once
elaborately carved, and running across the building, opens a
thoroughfare to a corresponding entrance on the opposite side. In the
centre of the screen is an inner door to the hall. Of the latter, the
noble proportions strike the visitor at the first glance, and challenge
his admiration. In its present state, however, the general effect is
much injured by the very means employed for its security,--namely, the
heavy wooden frame-work raised to support the roof, but which conceals
the beauty of its proportions. With this, however, we must not find
fault; some of the noblest statues of antiquity have been obliged to
support their dignity by “accepting modern pedestals;” and without the
means here ingeniously employed, the Hall of Eltham must long ere this
have been laid open to the weather. In the sixth volume of the
Archæologia, Mr. King has given minute descriptions of the Hall, to
which we refer our readers.
<g>The Screen</g>, already mentioned as running before the offices, was richly
carved, with a gallery over it for the musicians. Through this door
entered the guests who were not in immediate attendance upon the king.
Here the brave and the beautiful of other days were received by the
great officers of state, and conducted to the dais, where, on his
throne, the monarch received their homage and congratulations. The two
great bow-windows at either side of
[Illustration]
the upper end, in which were placed the royal sideboards, are adorned
with beautiful flowing tracery, and in style and proportions are
magnificent. All the windows were obviously placed in such a manner as
to afford an opportunity of hanging arras under them,[95] as in the
banquet scene represented in the steel engraving. The length of the Hall
is rather more than a hundred feet, the breadth thirty-six, and the
height forty-five feet. It has five double windows on each side,
exclusive of the great bays, at the end of which was the chief entrance
into the state apartments.
The purposes of a common barn, to which this magnificent hall has been
so long applied, have materially altered and defaced some of its noblest
features. One of the gorgeous oriels, for example, that opened to the
east and west, has been partly broken and cut away in order to admit
loaded waggons into the interior; and various other mutilations, the
effects of violence, not time, are observable in other parts of the
building. But our regrets on this head give way to something like a
feeling of congratulation, when we reflect that, had not this change in
its destination occurred, the Hall of Eltham would have long since
disappeared, like the original palace to which it belonged. At the upper
or north end of the building was the high dais, slightly elevated, and
running across the hall. This is now the threshing-floor; and at both
ends of this platform, east and west, are the magnificent bay windows
above mentioned, each forming a deep recess, and exhibiting, in design
and workmanship, all the characteristic beauty of its class and epoch.
The most cursory view will enable the reader to judge of their shape and
proportions; but to form any adequate conception of what they must have
been when filled with richly-stained glass, and pouring a flood of
gorgeous colours upon the royal banquet, requires no little effort of
the imagination.
“There the raised platform, near the bay,
Served well for stage: that oriel gay
Rose with light leaves and columns tall
Mid ‘roial glass’ and fretwork small;
While tripod lamps from the coved roof
Showed well each painted mask aloof:
Lanfranc and Saxon Edward there
Watching the scene they once could share.”
[Illustration]
<g>The Roof.</g>--The following observations on the construction of the roof
were given by Mr. Chessel Buckler while the last repairs were going on.
The preservation of this noble monument of ancient English architecture
is an honour to the country. When stripped of its external covering, the
roof distinctly exhibited the beauty of its carpentry, and the extent of
its injuries. It is wholly constructed of chestnut, the strength and
solidity of which, though unimpaired by time alone, were in many places
destroyed by the operations of the weather.[96] The main beams of the
roof are full seventeen inches square and twenty-eight feet long,
perfectly straight, and sound throughout, and are the produce of trees
of the most stately growth. A forest must have yielded its choicest
timber for the supply of this building; and it is evident that the
material has been wrought with incredible labour and admirable skill.
The repairs are limited to the roof, the parapet by which it is
protected, and the buttresses by which it is upheld. As it has been
stated that the joints and mouldings of the roof are secured by wooden
pins only, it may not be superfluous to remark that the structure is
held together by the assistance of nails.[97]
<g>The Souterrains.</g>--Of the subterranean passages lately discovered at
Eltham Palace, the following facts are contained in a small pamphlet on
the subject, published at Greenwich. Tradition has always kept up the
belief of an underground passage from Eltham Palace to Blackheath,
Greenwich, or the River; and it was affirmed in the neighbourhood that
at Middle Park, connected with the passages, there was stable-room under
ground for sixty horses. Under the floor of one of the apartments of the
palace, a trap-door[98] opens into a room under-ground, ten feet by
five, and proceeding from it, a narrow passage about ten feet in length,
conducts the stranger to the series of passages with decoys, stairs, and
shafts, some of which are vertical, and others on an inclined plane,
which were once used for admitting air, and for hurling down missiles
upon enemies, according to the modes of defence then in use. And it is
worthy of notice that, at points where weapons from above could assail
the enemy with the greatest effect, there the shafts are made to verge
and concentrate. About five hundred feet of these passages have been
entered and passed through in a western direction towards Middle Park,
and under the moat to the extent of two hundred feet. The arch is broken
down in the field leading from Eltham to Mottingham, but still the
brickwork can be traced further, and proceeding in the same direction.
The remains of two iron gates, completely carbonized, were found in that
part of the passage under the moat; and large stalactites formed of
super-carbonate of lime hung down from the roof of the arch, which
sufficiently indicated the time that must have elapsed since these
passages were last entered.
<g>Environs.</g>--Shooter’s-hill, the well-known landmark in this part of Kent,
is within a very short walk of Eltham Hall. The tower commands a
beautiful prospect of the metropolis, Greenwich, Woolwich, the Thames,
and the adjacent counties, and thus forms the centre of of a most
extensive panorama.[99] It was erected by Lady James, in honour of her
husband Sir William James, Baronet, who commanded the Company’s marine
forces in the East Indies, and in 1755, distinguished himself, by the
taking of Severndroog Castle, on the coast of Malabar. It is triangular
in shape, and about forty-five feet high. In the vestibule were formerly
arranged numerous specimens of the armour and trophies taken at
Severndroog, and in front is an inscription commemorative of that
victory.
Blackheath, of which the above is the most conspicuous feature, is often
mentioned in the old chronicles as the scene of “notable events.”[100]
The view which it commands is celebrated in all languages, and still
continues to be a theme of universal admiration. Previously to this,
Shooter’s-hill was a beacon station; and in the Churchwardens’ Account
at Eltham, in 1556, there are frequent charges made for “watchinge the
becon on Shutters-hill.”
The old military road from London to Dover is supposed to have followed
nearly the same track as the present. Various Roman antiquities have
been dug up on the Heath, an account of which may be seen in the
Archæologia. With the popular names of Jack Straw, Wat Tyler, Jack Cade,
the counterfeit Mortimer, and with the military operations of Henry the
Sixth, Henry the Seventh, the “bastard Falconbridge,” Lord Audley, the
Cornish rebels, Edward the Fourth, and other personages and events,
Blackheath is intimately associated. It has also been the scene of many
great public exhibitions of military pomp and court ceremony. It was on
this heath, in the immediate vicinity of his “faire house of Eltham,”
that Henry the Fourth, with great parade and magnificence, met the
Emperor of Constantinople, when he arrived in England to solicit
assistance against Bajazet. And here, on the 23rd of November, the mayor
and aldermen of London, with four hundred citizens “clothed in scarlet,
with red and white hoods,” met their victorious monarch on his return
from Agincourt. Here also the citizens met the Emperor Sigismund, when
he came to mediate a peace between France and England; and here Edward
the Fourth was also welcomed to England by a multitude of loyal
citizens, who conducted him in triumph to his palace. Here, in 1519, a
solemn embassy, consisting of the Admiral of France, the Bishop of
Paris, and other grandees of church and state, with twelve hundred
persons in their train, were met by the Lord Admiral of England and a
numerous retinue; and the same year, Cardinal Campeius, the Pope’s
legate, was received, with great splendour, on Blackheath, by the Duke
of Norfolk, and “conducted to a rich tent of cloth of gold, where he
arrayed himself in his cardinal’s robes, and then rode in princely state
to London.”
But the most magnificent “Blackheath procession” on record, was that
which took place at the interview between Henry the Eighth and the Lady
Ann of Cleves, with an abridgement of which we shall conclude our
present notice of Eltham and its vicinity.
“On the morrow, the thirde day of Januarie, being Saturdaie, in a fair
plaine of Blackheath, was pitched a pavilion of rich cloth of gold, and
divers other tents and pavilions, in which were made fires and perfumes
for her, the <g>Ladie Anne</g>, and such ladies as were appointed to receive
her; and from the tents to the parke-gate of Greenwich, all the bushes
and firs were cut downe, and a large open waie made for the shewe of all
persons. And first, next to the parke pale on the east, stood the
masters of the Stilliard, and on the west side the merchants of Genoa,
Florence, and Venice, and the Spaniards, in cotes of velvet; then, on
both sides of the waye, stood the merchants of the citie of London, the
aldermen and councillors, to the number of a hundred and three score,
which were mingled with the esquires; then the fifty gentlemen
pensioners; and all these were apparelled in velvet and chaines of gold,
truely accounted to the number of twelve hundred and above, beside them
that came with the king and her, which were six hundred, in velvet cotes
and chaines of gold. Behind the gentlemen stood the serving men in good
order, well horssed and apparelled; so that whosoever had well viewed
them might have said, that they, for tall and comelie personages, and
clean of lim and bodie, were able to give the greatest prince in
Christendome a mortall breakefast, if he had been the king’s enemie.
“About twelve of the clocke, <g>Her Grace</g>, with all the companye which were
of her owne nation, to the number of an hundred horse, accompanied with
[Illustration]
the Dukes of Norffolke, Suffolke, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and
other bishops, lords, and knights, came doune Shooters-hill, towards the
tents, and a good space from the tents met her, the Earl of Rutland, and
all her councellors and officers, amongst whome Doctor Daie, appointed
her almoner, made to her an eloquent oration in Latine, which oration
was answered unto by the Duke her brother’s secretarie; which done, the
ladie Margaret Dowglas, daughter to the Queene of Scots, the ladie
Marquesse Dorsset, daughter to the French queen, being neeces to the
king, and the Dutches of Ritchmond, the Countesses of Rutland and
Hereford, with divers other ladies and gentlewomen, to the number of
three score and five, saluted and welcomed her grace, who alighted out
of her chariot, and with courteous demeanour and lovinge countenance,
gave to them hartie thanks and kissed them all, and after all her
councellors and officers kissed her hand; which done, she, with all the
ladies, entered the tents, and there warmed them a space; and (it being
the depth of winter) when the king knewe that she was arrived in her
tent, he with all diligence set out through the parke. And first issued
the King’s trumpets, the officers of his council, the officers of his
privie chamber, the barons, the lord mayor, the bishops, earles, the
Duke of Baviere, and countie palatine of the Rhine; then the
ambassadours of the French king and emperor, Cromwell, the lord privie
seale, the lord chancellour, the garter king-at-arms, and the other
officers and sergeants of arms, gave their attendance on each side the
lord. The lord Marquesse Dorsset bare the sword of state, and after him,
a good distance, followed the <g>King’s Highnesse</g>, mounted on a goodlie
courser.
“To speake of the rich and gorgeous apparel that was there to be seen
that daie, I have thought it not greatlie necessarie, sith each man may
well think it was right sumptuous and very faire and costlie. After the
king followed the lord chamberlayne, then the master of his horsses
richly mounted and leading the king’s horsse of estate by a long reine
of gold. Then followed the pages of honour, riding on great coursers,
then the captaine of the gard, then the gard well horssed, and in their
rich cotes, etc.
“When <g>Her Grace</g> understood that the king was come, she came forth of her
tent, and at the doore thereof, being set on a faire and beautiful
horsse, richly trapped, she rode forth towards the <g>King</g>, who perceiving
her to approach, came forward somewhat beyond the Crosse, then staid
till she came nearer, and then putting off his cap, he made forward to
her, and, with most loving countenance and princelie behaviour, saluted,
welcomed, and imbraced her, to the great rejoising of the beholders: And
she likewise, not forgetting her dutie, with most amiable aspect and
romantic behaviour, received him with many apt words and thanks, as was
most to purpose.
“After the king had talked a small while, he put her on his right hand,
and so with their footmen they rode together; and returned in this
manner through the ranks of the knights and esquires, which stood still
all this while, and removed not.” (The procession through the park is
glowingly described, but her reception in the palace is all we can
introduce in this place.) “Now were the citizens of London rowing up and
doune on the Thames before them, every craft with his barge garnished
with banners, flags, streamers, pencels, and targets, painted and beaten
with the king’s armes, some with her armes, and some with the armes of
their craft and mysterie. There was a barge called the Bachellors Barke,
richlie decked, on the which waited a foist that shot great pieces of
artillerie; and in every barge was great store of instruments of divers
sorts, and men and children singing and plaieng altogether, as the <g>King</g>
and the <g>Ladie Anne</g> passed bye the wharfe. When the king and she were
within the utter court, they alighted from their horses, and the king
lovinglie imbraced her, kissed her, and bade her welcome to her owne,
leading her by the left arme through the hall, and so brought her up to
her privie chamber, where he left her for that time, while a great peal
of artillerie was shot off from the tower of Greenwich and thereabout.”
Such are a few of the particulars given by Holinshed of this matrimonial
fete: but the account by Hall is still more circumstantial, and both
afford vivid pictures of the regal splendour which characterized all the
court pageants of that gorgeous reign. Little did Anne of Cleves
imagine, as the magnificent view opened upon her, with Eltham Hall on
her left, Greenwich on her right, Westminster and St. Paul’s in the
distance, a sovereign at her feet, and an assembled nation eager to do
her homage--little did she imagine how dark would be the sunset of this
bright day; and yet, compared with that which overtook her unhappy
sisters--partners of the same throne--her destiny was rather to be
envied than lamented.
The town of Eltham, of which our limits prevent a more deliberate
notice, is still one of the most favourite retreats in the vicinity of
town, and formerly could number among its residents many celebrated
names. The church and churchyard are interesting, and contain several
classic tombs and inscriptions. The environs are rich and picturesque,
the society is select and intellectual, the air is salubrious; and
within seven miles of the capital it would be difficult to find any
point that offers so many inviting qualities for a quiet and cheerful
residence as Eltham.
AUTHORITIES:--Camden.--Stow.--Blome.--Leland.--Grafton.--Hall.--Life
of the Black Prince.--do. Richard the
Second.--Archæologia.--Gentleman’s Mag.--Hasted.--Parliamentary
Surveys.--Lambard.--Lysons.--Kilburne.--Graphic
Illustrator.--Collins’s Peerage.--Buckler.--Notices of Eltham.--MS.
Visit to Eltham, March, 1842.--Royal Halls.
For an admirable description of Greenwich Park and its vicinity,
the reader is referred to Mr. Miller’s “Lady Jane Grey,”--“Banks of
the Thames,” etc. etc.
[Illustration: ROCHESTER CASTLE.]
[Illustration]