Long have I loved to catch the simple chime
Of minstrel-harps, and spell the fabling rhyme;
To view the festive rites, the knightly play,
That deck’d heroic Albion’s elder day;
To mark the mouldering Halls of Barons bold,
And the rough Castles, cast in giant mould;
With Gothic manners Gothic arts explore,
And muse on the magnificence of yore.--WARTON.
“<g>As we</g> descended the hill towards Rochester, how solemn the appearance
of the <g>Castle</g>, with its square ghastly walls, and their hollow eyes
rising over the right bank of the Medway, grey and massive and
floorless--nothing remaining but the shell!” Such was the memorandum of
her visit to this scene, left by the author of the Mysteries of Udolpho,
as she descended Strood Hill, and gazed upon the magnificent ruin to
which this portion of our work is to be directed. Viewed from this
point--the hill above named--the Castle appears to great advantage.
Soaring in lofty pre-eminence over the surrounding buildings, and even
the Cathedral, it conveys to the spectator’s mind a deep impression of
what it must have been in the palmy days of chivalry, when mailed
warriors lined its ramparts, when joust and tourney animated its courts,
and banners floated from its towers. In its present condition it bears
that resemblance to its former self which a skeleton bears to the
living body. The framework is there, but the life is fled,--the light is
extinguished; and in the full glare of day, like the wreck of mortality,
it assumes only a more melancholy aspect. But still, the interest
connected with this landmark of antiquity is increased, rather than
diminished, by contemplation. Fancy repeoples its courts, rebuilds its
towers, restores its original order and dimensions, till we enjoy the
picture which imagination thus embodies, and seem for the time, as if we
were transported into romantic ages and took a part in those historic
scenes of which its walls were once the theatre. At every one of those
loop-holes and unlatticed casements, we seem to discern the warlike
forms that once animated the building, and hurled defiance on the
assailants. We hear the sound of revelry in the hall, the clang of arms
in the ‘bayle,’ and the rattle of the portcullis as it drops from the
lofty archway, and fastens its iron teeth in the pavement.--But we need
not proceed with a picture which so vividly presents itself to every
imaginative pilgrim who halts on the bridge of Rochester, and surveys
the vast and venerable pile which here crowns the adjoining bank, and
takes undivided possession of the scene.
[Illustration]
<g>Rochester Castle</g> is beyond doubt one of the most complete Norman
strongholds that the slow waste of centuries and the ravages of war have
left in our island; and, in its noble style and elegant proportions,
offers one of the best examples extant of that class of domestic
fortresses by which the early barons rendered themselves so formidable
to the crown. The castles or stone-built fortresses of England,
previously to the Conquest, were few and inconsiderable. Those of Roman
foundation had fallen into ruin; and although the great Alfred had
strengthened the frontier and more assailable points of the country with
fifty or more of these towers of defence, they had not been kept up with
the same vigilance by his successors; and to this deficiency of national
bulwarks may be attributed the speedy reduction of England to the Norman
yoke.
At the period in question, the castles and places of strength in
general[101] appear to have been constructed principally of wood: in
proof of which, the only mechanical implement which the vassal was
required to bring with him in aid of the work, was a hatchet. Aware of
their great importance in securing the fruits of conquest, the Norman
ruler immediately adopted the policy of the Roman, and began to measure
the duration of his power by the number and strength of his castles. In
process of time the great martial tenants of the crown followed his
example, and, by erecting places of strength in the various provinces
assigned to them as the spoils of conquest, secured to themselves and
their families the newly-acquired domain. At the close of Stephen’s
reign, the number of these domestic strongholds appears to have amounted
to eleven hundred; a fact which led to the most deplorable consequences.
Contempt of allegiance, family feuds, mutual acts of violence and
outrage--a state of society which admitted no superior, respected no law
but that of force, and accepted no arbitrator but the sword--were daily
opposed to the right administration of affairs.[102] Such, however, was
the prelude to happier times, when the castles--after having been for a
season the strongholds of lawless domination--were transformed at last
into temples and sanctuaries for the regeneration of native freedom. It
was in the recesses of those embattled walls that the rights of the
people were at length asserted, that their wrongs were redressed, and
that the sword of despotism was transformed into a sceptre of peace. It
was by the masters of those castles that the bloodless victory of
Runnymede was achieved, and freedom established on a permanent basis.
The continual struggle, however, in which these generous efforts
involved the early barons, had for a time its full portion of evil as
well as good. It distracted society, fostered suspicion and distrust in
the people, awakened personal animosities among the nobles, and
occasioned disunion among those who had but one great object in view,
that of securing and consolidating under one legitimate head the
interests of all. But the unwearied vigilance, prudence, and personal
intrepidity which were necessary to carry forward those labours to a
successful crisis, had the happy effect of bringing into full play the
noblest qualities of the human mind, and were the certain forerunners of
that political wisdom and military prowess which in every subsequent
reign have distinctly marked all our great national events.
But to return to the subject before us--we may observe that at the
period of the Conquest the security of the new dynasty depended as much
upon the faithful attachment of its great vassals in time of peace, as
the late victory had depended on their exertions in the field. Making
it therefore their interest to be faithful to him, William extended to
his followers immediate rewards with the prospect of future
aggrandizement. The number of those who had held rank in his army at the
battle of Hastings[103] amounted to seven hundred. To these extensive
domains were assigned (as already mentioned in the case of Roger
Montgomery) in all parts of England where, with true Norman policy, they
erected those majestic structures which overawed the conquered, and
secured to their lords the quiet enjoyment of their newly-acquired
power. But it is a fact not to be questioned, that these strongholds
were too often subservient to the worst purposes.[104] Where the will,
authority, or caprice of the chiefs was the only law; where his interest
and family aggrandizement were the great ends to be kept in view,
justice and humanity were not likely to hold the scales with an
impartial hand. The virtues of that age were not of the stamp which at a
later period characterized Fitzwalter and his brother barons. To extend
their possessions by the sword--as in their inroads across the Welsh and
Scottish frontier--to defend them by the like means--to exact implicit
obedience from their vassals and retainers--to marshal them under their
own banners in time of war, and to lead a life of feudal splendour in
the short intervals of peace, filled up the life and labours of the
great military leaders of that day. It was like the cloud which
intervened between the darker and brighter pages of our history; but
through which were seen occasional glimpses of those events which the
maturer age of chivalry, the growth of moral principle, and the progress
of refinement, improved to the national glory.
The Castle of Rochester, though stripped of nearly all its outworks, and
mutilated in its internal features, is as perfect an example as we
possess of a Baronial castle. It exhibits in detail nearly all the
characteristic features of the eleventh and twelfth centuries; and where
the hand of violence has not been applied, it displays all the beauty of
outline, richness of workmanship, and solidity of structure, which mark
the great buildings of its class and period. The situation is exactly
such as the Norman barons usually selected for their strongholds. These
were in many instances built on the remains of Roman forts, or on those
which had been constructed or repaired in the time of Alfred, evidence
of which, may be generally obtained by a careful examination of the
substructure. The space it occupies is believed to have been the site of
a Roman fortress; for the point was too eligible, and the district
itself was too accessible, to have been left without a military defence
during their possession of the country. Besides, it was a station on the
great military road between Dover and London; and being in a central
point between the capital and the coast, and having the double advantage
of road and river communication, was peculiarly suited to all the
purposes of a provincial fortress.
But in order that we may have a correct notion of the castellated
structures of those days, we shall here, in as few words as possible,
give a general idea of a <g>Norman Castle</g> or fortress[105]. It consisted,
with very few exceptions, of an enclosure of from five to ten acres of
land; and, as in the present instance, was encircled by a river, or
artificial canal called a moat, on the scarp or edge of which was a
strong wall, succeeded by another; and between these was the first
ballium, or outer court of the castle. Within the second wall, or that
which immediately surrounded the keep, or great tower, were storehouses
for the garrison, and other offices suitable to the extent and
distinction of the fortress. In the centre of this interior space or
enclosure, was the citadel, or master-tower, as it is more properly
called, in which resided the suzerain, or feudal chief; but occasionally
it was occupied by the deputy or castellan, who for the time being was
the representative of the baron, and had the full exercise of his
delegated authority. This master tower was generally built upon an
artificial mound, as already described in our notice of Arundel. It
contained the state-apartments, which were in proportion to the style
and retinue of the founder, with all the other domestic offices
belonging to the strongholds of that period. In the centre of the tower,
and descending to the lowest part of the foundation, were the dungeons,
in which were confined the prisoners of war, the felons or malefactors
of his jurisdiction. In several instances, access to the various
compartments of the castle was provided by secret inlets through the
centre of the walls, and by subterraneous passages made under the fosse,
as mentioned in the notice of Eltham.
In advance of the ditch or moat, was the barbican, or outer defence,
with a watch-tower that communicated with the interior by means of a
drawbridge across the moat, which opened inwards, so as to be under the
control
[Illustration]
of the sentinel or guard. The entrance to the ballium, or outer court,
was secured by gates, with a ponderous grating or portcullis, which was
raised or lowered by means of those iron chains and pulleys which are
still used in some of our military fortresses, and are always met with
in the fortified cities of the Netherlands. The walls were further
protected by towers and battlements, from which, as well as through the
numerous loopholes by which they were perforated, arrows and other
missiles could be discharged with deadly effect; while through the
apertures of the machicolation above,
“Sudden, on the assailants’ head,
Blocks of stone and molten lead,
O’er the foe descending--gushing,
Scorching as they fell, or crushing
Helmèd warriors in their fall,
Guarded each embattled wall.”
The outer walls were generally from six to ten feet thick; those of
Rochester Castle are seven[106]; while the walls of the keep, to which
all looked for retreat under desperate circumstances, were often fifteen
feet in thickness, and contained in their centre many secret closets,
passages, and recesses, to which none but the castellan and his family
had access. In the castle of Glamis[107] there is a secret chamber, the
key of which is transmitted from father to son, and never known to more
than the “seigneur actuel,” and some trustworthy official. Before the
invention of artillery, one of these strongholds, such as we have
described, might have been considered impregnable; and when taken, the
surrender was generally in consequence of famine, revolt or cowardice on
the part of the garrison, or of stratagem on that of the besiegers.
Nearly all the fortresses of this class were erected during the period
that elapsed between the reign of the Conqueror and that of Edward the
Third. The Castle of Rochester appears to have been erected soon after
the decisive battle of Hastings; and in tracing its history and that of
its founder, we shall adhere to the general opinion, so far as that may
be found to harmonise with historical documents. Castles built on the
Norman model varied according to the natural shape of the ground
selected for their erection. The military baron, following the example
of the Roman general, selected that position to which nature had given
the best means of security, which provided against sudden approach or
surprise, and in cases of extremity, offered some facilities for escape,
of which various instances are recorded in history. The sites chosen
were generally on capes or promontories overlooking the sea; on high
banks protected by a river, or on isolated hills, where connecting
valleys, by forming a natural fosse, would interpose a chasm between the
besiegers and the besieged. These natural positions were readily taken
advantage of by the warlike baron; while the difficulty of access could
be increased by artificial means, such as damming up the stream which
flowed through the ravine, and thus transforming it into a temporary
lake. The situation of Rochester Castle is partly an example of this
kind: the high ground on which it stands, and its immediate access to
the river, were natural recommendations not to be lost sight of; and
which the founder took every opportunity of turning to the best account.
In castle-building the general maxim was--
“Where the land o’erlooks the flood,
Steep with rocks and fringed with wood;
Where, throughout the circling year,
Wells the fountain fresh and clear;
Scoop the dungeon, rear the wall,
Pile on high the feudal hall.”
We shall now quote one or more authorities respecting the Castle of
Rochester. “Neere unto the church,” says Camden, “there standeth, over
the river, an olde Castle fortified both by art and situation, which, as
the report goeth, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux and Earle of Kent, built; but it
was no doubt King William the First that built it; for, in Domesday Book
we reade thus: ‘The Bishop of Roucester holdeth in Elesford for exchange
of the land on which the castle is seated.’ Yet certain it is that
Bishop Odo, when his hope descended of a doubtful change of the state,
held this against King William Rufus; all which time there passed a
proclamation through England, that whosoever would not be reputed a
‘niding,’ should repair to the recovery of Rochester Castle. Whereupon,
the youth, fearing that name as most reproachful and opprobrious in that
age, swarmed thither in such numbers, that Odo was enforced to yield the
place, lose his dignity, and abjure the realme.”
But concerning the reconstruction of the “Kentishmen’s Castle,” Camden
quotes the text of Roffensis, an ancient manuscript of the Church of
Rochester, which narrates the following particulars:--“When King William
the Second would not confirm the gift of Lanfranck, unless Gundulph,
Bishop of Rochester, would give unto the king an hundred pounds of
deniers; at last, by the intercession of Sir Robert Fitzsimon, and
Henry, Earl of Warwick, the king granted it thus far forth in lieu for
the money which he demanded for grant of the manor, that Bishop
Gundulph, because he was skilful and well experienced in architecture
and masonrie, should build for the king, at his own
[Illustration]
proper charges, a castle of stone. In the end, when as the bishops were
hardlie brought to give their consent unto it before the king, Bishop
Gundulph built up the castle full and whole at his owne cost.--Hence the
name of <g>Gundulph’s Tower</g>.--And a little after, King Henrie the First
granted unto the church of Canterbury and to the archbishops the keeping
thereof, and the constableship, to hold ever after, as Florentius of
Worcester saith, yea and a licence withal to build in the same a towre
for themselves. Since which time it was besieged by one or two great
sieges, but then especially when the barons with their alarmes made all
England to shake; and Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, assaulted it
most fiercely, though in vaine, and cut down the wooden bridge, which
was afterwards repaired.”
To the historical names and events thus connected with the castle we
shall briefly advert. <g>Odo</g>, whose name is so closely associated with the
castle and the county of Kent, was one of the military prelates who
followed the victorious standard of King William, pronounced a
benediction on his army at the battle of Hastings, and shared largely in
the plunder of the vanquished. He was half-brother, by the mother’s
side, to the Conqueror, and could handle the sword as well as the
crosier. William, to save the bishop and secure a steady adherent to the
crown, made him Earl of Kent, and along with the title conferred many
other substantial favours. “But,” says an old authority, “he was by
nature of a bad disposition and busie head, bent alwaies to sow sedition
and to trouble the state; whereupon, he was committed to prison[108] by
a subtile distinction as Earle of Kent, and not as Bishop of Bayeux, in
regard of his holie orders; and afterwards, by a most dangerous
rebellion which he raised, he was, by his nephew King William Rufus,
deprived of his places of dignity, lost all his goods in England, and
abjured the realme.”
[Illustration]
The rebellion in which he was concerned, and which proved fatal to this
ambitious and intriguing prelate, is matter of local history. He was a
formidable partisan, a man formed to be the leader of a conspiracy; he
had many friends among the most powerful of the barons; and when Duke
Robert promised to come over with an army to wrest the sceptre from his
brother Rufus, Odo engaged to do the rest. At the Easter festival, Rufus
kept his court at Winchester, and there he invited all the great lords
to attend him[109]. Odo and his friends were also there, and took that
opportunity of arranging his plans. From the festival he departed to
raise the standard of Robert in his old earldom of Kent; while Hugh de
Grantmesnil, Roger Bigod, Robert de Mowbray, Roger de Montgomery,
William Bishop of Durham, and Geoffrey of Coutance, repaired to do the
same in their respective fiefs and governments. Thus a sudden and
dangerous rising took place in many parts of England. But the insurgents
lost time; while the army from Normandy, which Odo was instructed to
provide for, was slow in making its appearance[110]. Rufus, in the mean
time, on hearing that warlike preparations were going forward in the
very heart of his kingdom, permitted his subjects to fit out cruisers,
which rendered him very important services; for the Normans calculated
that there was no royal navy to oppose them, and that they would be
received on landing by their confederates. The followers of Odo and his
party began to cross the Channel in small companies, and so many were
intercepted and destroyed by the English cruisers, that the attempted
invasion was abandoned. The bishop, however, had fortified the castles
of Rochester and Pevensey, and, fearful that no assistance might reach
him from Normandy, prepared to stand a siege. Rufus now issued the
proclamation already quoted--namely, “Let every man who is not a
nithing[111] (cipher) in the martial catalogue of his country, quit
home and hearth, and hasten to join the standard of his sovereign!” To
this appeal thirty thousand men responded,--men of the old Saxon blood,
whom the conciliatory measures recently adopted by Rufus had brought
over to his cause. With this powerful army he marched against the
bishop, who having delegated the command of Rochester Castle to Eustace,
Earl of Boulogne, lay in the strong fortress of Pevensey, in expectation
that Duke Robert and his Normans might still make good their landing on
that part of the coast. After a siege of seven weeks, Odo was obliged to
surrender; and on taking an oath that he would place Rochester Castle in
the king’s hands, Rufus pardoned this act of rebellion, and dismissed
him, with an escort of Norman horse, to Rochester, there to fulfil his
engagement[112]. By a preconcerted plan, however, between Eustace and
himself, means were taken to evade the performance of his oath; for
while reciting the set form of words by which he demanded the surrender
of the castle, Eustace, pretending great indignation at the proposal,
arrested the bishop and his guards on the spot, as traitors to Robert,
and carried them into the castle. The scene was well acted; and Odo,
trusting to be screened from the accusation of perjury by the compulsory
means employed against him, remained in the fortress as a witness, and,
no doubt, an active partisan in the cause[113].
Exasperated by such treachery, Rufus soon environed the castle with a
powerful army of infantry and horsemen. The castle, however, was strong
and well garrisoned: five hundred Norman knights, without counting the
meaner sort, fought on its battlements; and after a long siege the place
was not taken by assault, but forced to surrender either by pestilential
disease, by famine, or probably by both. The English, who had shown
great ardour during the siege, would have granted no terms of
capitulation; but the Norman portion of the king’s army, who had friends
and relations in the castle, entertained very different sentiments, and
at their earnest entreaty, though not without difficulty, Rufus allowed
the besieged to march out with their arms and horses, and freely depart
the land[114]. The unconscionable bishop, however, would have included
in the capitulation a proviso that the king’s army should not cause
their bands to play in sign of triumph as the garrison marched out; but
to this the king replied, in great anger, that he would not make such a
concession for a thousand marks of gold. The partisans of Robert then
came forward with colours lowered, and the king’s music playing the
while. When Odo appeared, there was a louder crash; the trumpets
screamed; and the English, scarcely able to keep their hands from his
person, shouted as he passed--“Oh for a halter to hang this perjured
murderous bishop[115]!” Such was Odo’s last appearance in the earldom of
Kent.
[Illustration]
The next important epoch in the history of this fortress is the <g>Siege</g>,
which carries us forward to the reign of King John--a reign of tumult
and civil distraction, but relieved in its darker features by events
which laid the foundation of British freedom. But the barons, as Hume
has justly observed, having once obtained the Great Charter, seem to
have been lulled into a fatal security. They took no rational measures,
in case of the introduction of a foreign force, for reassembling their
armies. The king was from the first master of the field, and immediately
laid siege to the Castle of Rochester, of which, at the head of a
hundred and forty knights with their retainers, William de Albini held
the command. A few of the particulars are thus recorded by
Holinshed:--“King John having recovered strength about him, and being
advertised that William de Albiney was entered into the castle of
Rochester with a great number of knights, men at arms, and other
souldiers, hasted thither with his whole armie and besieged them within,
enforcing himselfe by all waies possible to win the castell, as well by
battering the walles with engines as by giving thereunto many assaults.
But the garrison within, consisting of ninety-and-foure knights, beside
demilances and other souldiers, defended the place verie manfullie in
hope of rescue from the Barons, which laie then at London; but they
coming forward one daies journie unto Dartford, when they heard that the
king was comming forward in good arraie for battel to meet them, upon
consideration had of their own forces--for they were not able to match
him with footemen--they returned backe again to the citie, breaking that
assured promise which they had made and also confirmed by their solemn
oaths; which was, that if the castell of Rochester should chance to be
besieged, they would not faile but raise the siege[116].”
“At length they within for want of vittels were constrained to yield it
up unto the king after it had been besieged the space of three-score
daies; during which time they had beaten back their enemies at sundrie
assaults with great slaughter and losse. But the king having now got the
possession of that hold, upon grief conceived for the losse of so manie
men, and also because he had lien so long about it yer he could winne it
to his inestimable cost of charges, was determined to have put them all
to death that had kept it. But Sauveric de Mauleon advised him
otherwise[117], lest, by such crueltie, the barons in any like case
should be occasioned to use the same extremitie towards such of his
people as by chance might fall into their hands. Thus the king spared
William de Albiney and the other nobles and gentlemen, and sent them to
Corfe Castle, and other places, to be kept as prisoners[118].
“Neverthelesse--as the booke that belonged to Bernewell Abbie
saith--there was not any of them hanged, saving one arcubalister onelie,
whome the king had brought up of a child. But, howsoever the king dealt
with them after they were yielded, true it is (as by the same booke it
appeareth) there had been no siege in those daies more earnestlie
inforced, nor more obstinatlie defended: for after that all the limmes
of the castelle had beene reuersed and throune downe, they kept the
maister tower, till halfe thereof was also overthrowne, and after kept
the other halfe, till through famine they were constreined to yeeld,
having nothing but horsse-flesh and water to susteine their liues
withall[119].”
Of William de Albini, who had command of the castle garrison, and was
the best officer among the confederated barons, the following anecdote
is recorded[120]:--Early one morning, after the fortunes of the besieged
had become nearly desperate, and when Albini was making his usual round
of the battlements, to see that all was in good order and every man at
his post, he was thus accosted by one of his retainers, a favourite
cross-bowman: “Seigneur, behold the tyrant!” pointing at the same
instant to the well-known person of King John, who was cautiously
reconnoitring the weakened points of the castle.
[Illustration]
“Well,” said Albini, “it is the king; what wouldest thou?”
“Shall I take him off, by your leave?” said the bowman, suiting the
action to the word and adjusting a steel bolt to the bow-string; “shall
I despatch this swift messenger to his highness? only say the word!”
“Nay, God forbid!” said Albini, raising his hand to check the rash
attempt--“forbear! it is the king!”
“Very well, seigneur,” said the arcubalister, with a mortified air; “be
it according to your pleasure. Only, methinks, that were the tyrant in
your place, and you on the outwork yonder, there would be no ‘God
forbid!’ ’Tis a fine target, seigneur!”
“Nay, nay, no more of this; keep thy shafts for better use; we must not
do as the king would do, nor as the king has done. He is the anointed of
the realm; and if his deeds have ill corresponded with his duties, we
shall not mend things by an act of treachery.”
“True, seigneur,” said the bowman, submissively, but still keeping his
eye on the mark, and raising the weapon instinctively to his eye; “and
yet, ’tis the last chance, and when the horse-flesh and fresh water fail
us, God have mercy upon the garrison!”
“Let us abide the worst,” said Albini; “brave hearts and the favour of
Heaven are a match for the king and all his army. Besides, I expect
Fitzwalter and his barons to raise the siege.”
“They are right tardy in their march, seigneur; almost two months have
they loitered thus.”
“Nay, methinks I see them even now, descending yonder height. Seest thou
aught?”
“I can see nothing but the king and this cross-bow,” said the archer;
“and now,” added he, despondingly, “’tis beyond reach--‘tis lost!”
“No matter,” said Albini, “thou hast more honourable work before thee:
for see, they prepare for a new assault--the ladders are out--to thy
post, and I to mine. The event is with God, not with King John!”
“Maybe so,” said the staunch bowman, “maybe so, but with King John I wot
is neither sickness nor starvation, His host, I warrant me, have all
breakfasted this morning, while some that I could name have been three
days under arms with little better cheer than the castle well.”
“Too true,” said Albini, “too true. We must all fast as well as fight;
but to-night, please God, even to-night, the barons may arrive, the
siege may be raised, and thou and thy brave companions shall sup in the
king’s larder. What say’st thou to that, Hugo?”
“My appetite is right keen, seigneur, and my thirst not a whit behind my
appetite.”
“Well then, courage! and see what God will send us.”
“Amen!” said the bowman, “and never fear me for courage when Albini
commands. And yet, seigneur, had this little bolt been sent home, much
blood, methinks, would have been spared. But no matter now, the die is
cast; and if once caught by the tyrant, yonder stands the gibbet! So
once more, here goes.”
“Ay, by my troth, and a right good aim,” said Albini; “thou hast hit the
first man between the joints of his harness--he tumbles dead from the
ladder. This is the right game, so once more, God and freedom be the
word!”
“God and freedom!” responded the bowman; and herewith the closing
horrors of the siege began.
The aid sent to the barons by the French court in this struggle is
stated at nearly seven thousand men. “Heere is to be noted,” says
Holinshed, “that during the siege of Rochester, as some write, there
came out of France to the number neere hand of seaven thousand men, sent
from the French king vnto the aid of the barons, at the suit of Saer de
Quincie Earle of Winchester, and other ambassadours that were sent from
the barons, during the time of this siege; although it should seeme, by
Matthew Paris, that the said earle was not sent till after the Pope had
excommunicated the barons. The Frenchmen that came over at this first
time landed at Orwell, and other hauens there neere adioining[121].”
Elated with the success which had crowned his operations against the
Castle of Rochester, King John, says the historian[122], marched through
the kingdom like an implacable despot, inflicting every act of barbarity
and spoliation on the relations and estates of those who had opposed his
tyrannical measures. In the mean time, the barons, hopeless of ever
retrieving their wretched state of affairs by their own unaided
strength, had recourse to the last painful expedient of calling in
foreign aid, and applied to Philip of France, who, as it favoured his
own interest, and flattered his ambition, was easily persuaded to enter
into their views. Intent upon this grand object, extensive preparations
were set on foot; an armament was fitted out, and the following year,
his son Louis the Dauphin was placed at its head, and with a fleet of
seven hundred vessels set sail for the English coast. Landing at the
port of Sandwich, the French auxiliaries were joined by those of the
confederate barons, and presented so menacing a front that King John,
becoming alarmed, left the capital and set out for Winchester. On his
march through Sussex he was met by Gualo, the Pope’s nuncio, who had
just arrived in England, and in whom the despotic monarch found a warm
partisan. For the sacrilegious Dauphin having thus dared to invade the
patrimony of St. Peter--as his Holiness was pleased to style the
kingdom--it became his duty to wield the spiritual weapons of the Church
against him. With this view he repaired to the French camp, and there
excommunicated with all due solemnity the rash intruder and his whole
army. Louis was at first intimidated by this awful denunciation, and
made some concessions in order to ward off the coming vengeance; but
when he found that the sun was not darkened--that the elements did not
fight against him--that his camp was not depopulated, nor his march
impeded, he resumed courage, set the legate at defiance, and proceeded
in his expedition. As the first operation of the war, he invested the
Castle of Rochester, which, having lost much of its defensive outworks
in the previous siege, could offer no effectual resistance, and speedily
fell into the hands of the Dauphin. He then proceeded to London, where
he was received with triumph[123]. But the King dying the same year, his
son Henry succeeded to the throne, and this event, for a time, restored
public tranquillity, and rendered the cause of freedom independent of
foreign influence.
Rochester Castle, however, was destined to figure once more in the same
great question which had agitated the country during the preceding
reign. Henry the Third, by that open predilection for foreigners which
he exhibited on various public occasions, had excited both disgust and
indignation among the nobles of his own court, who in their turn lost no
favourable occasion of manifesting the sentiments by which they were
guided. This spirit was fully evinced at the grand tournaments which
from time to time drew together the chivalry of the land, and where they
always found, to their mortification, a preference given to foreign
adventurers by the English monarch. Meditating designs against the
freedom of his own people, he naturally foresaw the consequences, and
appears to have been anxious to conciliate the favour of those foreign
knights whom, after the manner of his father, he could make the willing
instruments of his despotism whenever the question should be ripe for
discussion in the field. This unnational prejudice was particularly
observed at the great solemn tournament which was held on the 8th of
December, 1251, in the fields to the south-east of Rochester Castle. It
was one of the most imposing military spectacles that had ever taken
place in the King’s presence, and numbered among the combatants the
noblest and the bravest of the land; while the lists were graced with
all that native beauty and virtue which so fascinated the chivalry of
other nations, and inspired the noblest deeds among their own. Attracted
to this spectacle, where they were sure of a cordial welcome, a crowd of
foreign knights arrived at Rochester on the eve of the fete, and were
received with marked distinction by the king. The morning of the
spectacle brought a still greater portion into the lists; but the events
of the day were not marked by anything in speech or bearing that could
reflect disgrace on the knightly courtesy which passed between the
combatants. The English knights, determined to maintain their national
character, entered the lists against all foreigners without exception.
Their challenge was freely accepted by the strangers, and in the course
of the day many a spear was shivered, many a knight unhorsed; but still
the palm was borne away by Englishmen. Mortified with defeat, the
foreigners were compelled to retire into the city without any of the
usual tokens of victory for which they had travelled so far; while some
of them, conscious that their conduct in the lists had violated certain
laws of chivalry, took refuge in the Castle, there to avoid popular
indignation and await some favourable moment for escape[124].
[Illustration]
It was on this occasion that Henry was made fully aware of the spirit
which now actuated his young nobles; and the result was another civil
war, and another siege of the Castle of Rochester by Simon de Montfort.
The Castle at that time was held by Earl Warren for the King; and on
Montfort’s arrival on the west bank of the Medway, opposite the
fortress, he found an army strongly posted, and ready to dispute with
him the passage of the bridge. He determined, nevertheless, to try the
fortune of war. He condensed his strength, and, having sent Gilbert de
Clare to attack the town on the south, so as to draw off part of the
enemy’s force and divert his attention from the design in progress, he
then ordered vessels to be filled with combustibles, and setting fire to
them, sent them adrift on the stream, which, running strong at this
point, bore them immediately down against the wooden bridge which then
crossed the river. The bridge having caught fire, the smoke and flames
which issued from the timber arches drove the enemy from their position
in the centre of the bridge, where they had charge of a tower, with a
drawbridge which cut off all communication with the opposite side.
During the obscurity and confusion which this stratagem occasioned,
Montfort, seizing the favourable instant, passed the river in boats, and
commenced his attack upon the outposts with such resolution and success
that he entered the city in the evening of Good Friday--spoiled the
Church, and vigorously attacked the Castle. Warren and his gallant
supporters, however, defended the citadel with such courage and
determination that, after a siege of seven days and nights, Leicester
had only captured some of the outworks. Yet owing to the state of the
Castle at that time, it is very probable that had the siege been
continued only a short time longer, it must have fallen into his hands.
But the great cause in which he had embarked demanding his presence in
London, which was threatened with a hostile visitation from the king, he
drew off the main body of his army to defend the capital, and thus the
Castle of Rochester was spared the disgrace of another surrender.
Shortly after this, Montfort, as Earl of Leicester, fought the battle of
Lewes, where, as already described in a former part of this work, he
gained a victory which richly compensated for the sudden retreat from
the Castle of Rochester.
Subsequently to this period, the Castle of Count Odo--as this fortress
is sometimes called--continued to be held by successive constables, men
of high military standing in the country. But from the above period
downwards it has not been the scene of any remarkable event, and
consequently its history is little more than an enumeration of its
castellans and the local incidents and irritations with which their
caprice or authority diversified the not always “even tenor” of their
sway[125].
The chief duty in which they appear to have latterly engaged[126] was
that of keeping a vigilant eye upon the monastery, which was gradually
rising in strength, and improving in territory as the Castle ramparts
fell into disuse; and, considering the talents possessed by the bishops
and superior clergy who successively presided in the Cathedral and
adjoining cloisters of Rochester, the office of castellan was no
sinecure. Stephen de Dene, however, attempted to set a bold example to
his successors in that office by taxing the monks for certain premises
about their convent; but the latter carried the day, and the question
being tried by law, the castellan was not merely nonsuited, but
dismissed from his office under the Crown. From that time, therefore, no
man appears to have been hardy enough to contest a civil question with
the spiritual authorities; and we may conclude that more than one or two
of these castellans would have enacted the tyrants of the place, had
they not been deterred by the sturdy bedesmen, and the terrors of
excommunication. Thus mutual vigilance between the castle and the
convent did the public tranquillity some service. But it was the
invention of gunpowder, the use of cannon, which gave the finishing blow
to all these magnificent ruins upon which we still gaze with feelings of
mixed wonder and veneration. Ceasing to be places of security--unless in
particular instances--they ceased to be appreciated for any other
quality of site or structure. Commanded, as that of Rochester is by all
the neighbouring heights, it could offer no resistance to those engines
which supplanted the balista, the battering-ram, and the cross-bows; and
continued thenceforward to be a mere monument of other days, reminding
us of those patriotic men and measures by which the national liberties
had been achieved, and who led the way to these happier times, when the
safeguard of society is the law of the country, and when the humblest
cottage is a domestic fortress.
“Unconquer’d patriots! form’d by ancient lore,
The love of ancient freedom to restore;
Who nobly acted what they boldly thought,
And seal’d, by death, the lessons which they taught.”
At the accession of James the First--whose personal recollections of
Falkland and Gowrie House had given him a noted abhorrence of all such
strongholds--Rochester Castle was one of the Crown manors, but was then
given, with all its services annexed, to Sir Anthony Weldon[127], of
Swanscombe. Much land in Kent and other counties is held of the Castle
of Rochester by the service of “perfect castle guard.” Every St.
Andrew’s Day, old style, a banner is hung out at the house of the
steward; and if there be any unlucky tenant who cannot bring in his rent
at the hour specified, he is liable to have the sum doubled at “every
return of the tide” in the Medway, till the whole amount is paid up.
Nothing, therefore, can be more unwelcome to the ear of the insolvent
tenant, than that peculiarly harsh sound with which the full tide rushes
through the centre arch of Rochester Bridge on the thirtieth of
November. In vain his friend ejaculates, addressing the steward--
“Gladly would thy servant pay,
Spare him but another day!
He’d not absent him from your audit--
Poor man! he’d pay it an’ he had it!”
but the immovable steward answers--
“Spare him? No!--Let the law decide--
Think ye that I can ‘_stop the tide_?’”
So true it is, that time and tide wait for no man.
When at last, like so many of its contemporaries, this castle was
finally deserted as a habitable dwelling, it was stripped of all its
carpentry, the hewn stone composing the stairs was removed, and all the
materials that could be turned to money were announced for public sale.
The old timber, consisting of the oak joists, on which rested the roof
and floors of the principal apartments, was bought up and employed in
the construction of a brewhouse[128]. But in attempting to remove the
solid materials of the walls, the operations were suddenly arrested by
this conviction, that it was much easier to quarry from nature than from
such a reservoir of art; for the pickaxes made so little progress in the
demolition of these massive walls--the very mortar of which is harder
than the stones it cemented together--that the enterprise was soon given
up in despair, as the chasm now left in the outer wall fully
demonstrates[129]. The stone employed in by far the greater portion of
the Castle is the same as that used in the Tower of London[130], built
under the same ecclesiastical architect, Bishop Gundulph; and is what
passes under the name of Caen-stone, a vast quantity of which must have
been imported from the royal quarries in Normandy. In several of the
repairs, however, native stone appears to have been used; but it was
introduced, comparatively, at a late period. The facing of the walls is
all of Normandy free-stone, and the centre is filled up with grout-work;
that is, a mass of pebbles, flint shells, and sand, cemented by mortar
poured into the interstices in a liquid state, and forming the whole
into a solid, compact, and almost inseparable mass, more durable than
the stone itself, and capable of resisting the action of the weather
with scarcely any perceptible loss of substance.
[Illustration]
<g>Visit to the Ruins.</g>--Having thus far adverted only very briefly to the
several compartments of which this majestic fortress consists, we shall
now take them more in detail, and introduce such particulars as may
serve to conduct the stranger in his research, and point out those
objects in the Castle which chiefly arrest attention, and fix themselves
in the memory[131].
<g>The Entrance</g> into the Castle area was by a bridge formed on two arches,
over a deep dry fosse. On each side of the portal, part of which is
remaining, is an angular recess, with arches on the outside that
commanded the avenues; and over the gateway and the recesses was a large
tower. The Keep stands at the south-east angle of the area, and in the
opinion of some writers, with a tower in Dover Castle, and the White
Tower within the Tower of London, was erected by Julius Cæsar. But we
have already shown that the architect was undoubtedly Bishop Gundulph.
The area of the castle district is about three hundred feet square; but
all the inner buildings, storehouses, magazines, stables, armouries,
have long since mouldered away.
<g>The Tower</g>, or Keep, and, as it is generally called, in honour of the
builder, Gundulph’s Tower, is quadrangular, its angles nearly
corresponding with the four cardinal points of the compass. It is about
seventy feet square at the base; the outside of the walls is built with
a slight inclination towards the centre, and, in general, are about
twelve feet thick. Adjoining to the east angle of this, is a small
tower, about two-thirds of the former in height, and twenty-eight feet
square. In this tower was
<g>The Grand Entrance</g>, with a noble flight of steps, eight feet wide,
through a lofty arched gateway, richly ornamented
[Illustration]
with curious fretwork, the zig-zag or chevron characteristics of the
time. For the greater security of this entrance, there was a drawbridge,
under which was the common entrance to the lower apartments of the Great
Tower, which consisted of only two divisions, and, receiving no light
from without, must have been as dark and gloomy as a cave underground.
They are divided by a partition-wall, five feet thick, which is
continued to the top, so that the rooms were twenty-one by forty-six
feet on each floor. In the lower part of the walls are several narrow
openings, or slits, for the partial admission of air and light; and in
the partition-wall are also arches, by which the two rooms communicated
with each other. These were probably the store-rooms of the Castle. In
the partition-wall in the centre of the Great Tower, is that upon which
the tenure of the whole fortress depended, and without which neither
strength nor stratagem could avail the besieged--namely, that
indispensable necessary,
<g>The Well.</g>--This was admirably contrived; its diameter is thirty-three
inches, and the workmanship is finely executed. This hollow tunnel, or
shaft, passes through the centre of the wall, from the turrets to the
foundation, and communicates with every floor; so that an ample supply
of water could be had with the greatest convenience. It was literally
such as the poet describes; not liable to have its clear lymph disturbed
by those accidental circumstances to which other fountains are subject.
Fons erat “Castelli”--
Quem neque pastores, neque pastæ monte capellæ
Contigerant, aliudve pecus; quem nulla volucris,
Nec fera turbârat, nec lapsus ab arbore ramus.
<g>The Prison.</g>--On the north-east side, within the Great Tower, is a small
arched doorway, through which is a descent by steps leading into a
vaulted apartment under the Small Tower. This is supposed to have been
the state prison; and in shape, substance, and dimensions, it well
corresponds with such a destination. One may still fancy the words which
it once addressed to the shackled captives as they entered this dreary
receptacle--“Voi qui entrate quì, lasciate ogni speranza!”--and, no
doubt, it has witnessed many a scene of crime and desperation concerning
which history and tradition are alike silent.
[Illustration]
<g>The Battlements.</g>--From the ground-floor there is a winding staircase,
between five and six feet wide, in the east angle, which leads to the
top of the Tower, and, in its ascent, communicates with every floor. The
steps were nearly demolished during the frequent attempts made to remove
the hewn stone, during the time already mentioned, when this baronial
monument was condemned by sordid interest, and that spirit of native
Vandalism from which it was only rescued by the invincible nature of
its own masonry, which resisted all efforts employed for its
destruction. The staircase, however, is still accessible, in spite of
the efforts made to destroy it, and retains the impressions of the
winding centres on which the arches were turned. The floor of the
<g>First Story</g> was about thirteen feet from the ground. The holes in the
walls opposite, where the timbers were laid, distinctly mark the
different stages or floors. But the massive oaken joists were long since
disposed of in the way we have mentioned, when the walls were finally
dismantled, the interior laid open to the weather, and the timber of the
Barons’ Hall sold to construct Gimmet’s brewhouse. These oaken joists
were nearly a foot square, and about thirteen inches apart, but less in
the upper floors, and extended from the outer wall to the centre
partition, where their sockets still appear in the stone. In the west
angle is another staircase, which ascends from the floor to the top of
the tower, and, like the former, communicates with every room. In this
story
<g>The Rooms</g> are about twenty feet high, and were probably intended for the
accommodation of the Barons’ household servants. The apartment in the
north-east side, in the Small Tower over the prison, and into which the
outward door of the grand entrance opened, was on this floor, and was
about thirteen feet square, and richly ornamented with Norman
chisel-work, in which the chevron moulding on the arches of the doors
and windows is the characteristic feature. This room communicated with
the state apartments in the Great Tower, by means of an archway, six
feet by ten and secured by means of a portcullis; the groove for which
is well worked in the main wall through to the next story. The rooms
also communicate with each other, by means of arches in the partition;
and in the external walls are many holes, or œillets, for the admission
of light, and the discharge of weapons in time of a siege. In the north
angle of this floor, appears to have been a small room, with a fireplace
in it, which antiquaries have described as the guardroom of certain
officers of the garrison[132]. In the south-east is a small door
intended, it is supposed, for those who were not admitted at the grand
entrance; the inside of which is constructed in a manner peculiarly
adapted for its security. From this floor we ascend by the principal
staircase to
<g>The State Apartments</g>, or Barons’ Hall, which, in point of size,
proportion, decoration, and harmonious combination of parts, presents a
noble specimen of Norman design and workmanship. The arches, doors, and
window are elaborately chiselled, and exhibit most of the beautiful
mouldings of which the architecture of that day was so prolific. This
apartment was about thirty-two feet high, separated by three massive
columns, each eighteen feet in height, forming four grand arches richly
ornamented, and included the
[Illustration]
whole space within the walls. The stair leading to this was much more
commodious than the others; and in cases of danger and necessity, the
great warlike engines then in use could be set up in the hall[133], for
the immediate protection of its inmates.
The chimneys were semicircular, very capacious, and projected
considerably into the rooms, and rested upon small pillars. The smoke
was carried off from each fireplace by means of a perforation in the
wall behind. The sinks were so contrived in an oblique direction that
no weapon could be sent up them.[134] All the interior arches, doorways,
and windows, are ornamented with the same carved mouldings as those
already mentioned.
With respect to the Chapel in Rochester Castle, no precise account has
been given; and even its place in the fortress is still a subject of
conjecture. But that an oratory once existed here, as in all other
strongholds of the same class, there can be no doubt; and in the upper
story, next the battlements, are the remains of semicircular arches[135]
in the wall, which, perhaps, mark the spot under which stood the altar
of the garrison Chapel[136]. Other appearances in the same floor seem to
strengthen the conjecture. At Arundel Castle, the Oratory, as described
in a first portion of this work, occupied the highest story of the Keep;
and it seems by no means improbable that in Rochester Castle[137] the
Chapel may have occupied a similar position. But if not here, there is
no other part of the Castle with which any oratory or chapel can be so
properly identified.
About midway in the ascent to the next or highest floor, there is a
narrow arched passage or gallery in the main wall, quite round the
Tower. In the Upper Floor, the apartments appear to have been sixteen
feet high. The roof, as above mentioned, was long since removed, and
from top to bottom nothing is left but the naked walls. The stone
gutters which carried off the rain are still entire. From this upper
portion, the stair rises about ten feet higher to the top of the Great
Tower, which is about one hundred and four feet from the ground, and
surrounded with battlements and embrasures seven feet high. At each of
the four angles is a turret, about twelve feet square, with floor and
battlement above it. From this elevation the panoramic view of the
country is highly interesting. The neighbouring heights, bristling with
military forts and covered with standards; the Medway studded with
ships, and seen as far as its confluence with the Thames;
Brompton--Chatham Lines--the Dockyard--Upnor Castle--the wooded heights
opposite; the bridge, once the most elegant in England--Strood,
Rochester, Chatham, and numerous other scenes and objects with which the
historical deeds of the past are closely associated--all awaken so deep
and lasting an interest in the spectator’s mind, that it would be
difficult to select any point in the kingdom which embraces a landscape
so various and so striking in its character.
A very accurate investigator of the antiquities of Rochester, and who
resided in the neighbourhood and made repeated researches on the
subject, was of opinion, that a wall must have extended originally from
the tower in the east wall to that in the west. The ground to the north
of this partition-wall would answer to what in other Norman castles is
often called the inner ballium, bayle, or court-yard. Several towers
were stationed in the angles and sides of the Castle-walls, to give more
scope to the besieged in the distribution of their forces; and, in
particular, there was a large tower at the north angle, for the security
of the
[Illustration]
bridge. Near this tower is a long opening in the wall from top to
bottom, which is supposed to have been used for the secret conveyance of
stores and necessaries, from boats in the river, into the Castle. In the
south angle of the walls, there was another tower; and from the number
of loop-holes, it must have been designed to annoy an enemy who had
succeeded in any attack on the south gate of the city. At a small
distance from this tower are steps descending to Bully or Boley
Hill[138]; and while the Castle was in force, there might be here a
postern gate to this part of the outworks.
In a survey of this gigantic fortress and its now deserted walls the
imagination is powerfully awakened. It speaks audibly of generations
long since swept away; when the life of a chieftain, as Mr. Dallaway
observes, appears to have been passed in building castles, and in
defending them when not actively employed in destroying those of others.
Although constructed as if to last for ages, the long reign of Henry the
Third, spent in a ceaseless contest between the King and his revolting
Barons, affords numerous instances of fortresses which were scarcely
finished before the outworks, at least, were levelled with the ground.
They more frequently escaped utter ruin after a long and obstinate
siege. This demolition was effected by means of vast military engines,
such as the catapulta and battering-ram, the use of which had been
retained, and applied according to the Roman system of war[139]. These
observations belong likewise to the Barons’ wars in the reign of the
second Edward. We cannot, indeed, in the words of the same authority,
fairly account for the total subversion of so many castles as the
Chronicles have asserted, but by concluding that after a castle was
taken, the whole soldiery engaged as victors did not leave until the
entire demolition was effected, agreeably to the sentence--“funditus
demoliendum[140]!” The Castle of Rochester is one of the few that have
survived the effects of time and revolutions; and in the almost entire
state of its Keep and other subordinate compartments, distinctly points
out the living manners of the people, and their warlike operations
during the turbulent periods of the national history.
In process of time, several improvements, both in respect to military
strength and commodious habitation, were adopted in these Norman
fortresses. The second ballium was protected by smaller towers; and
those of the barbican and gate of entrance admitted of spacious rooms.
In these the feudal Baron resided with his family, who only made use of
the Keep during a siege, or when driven to it as a place of
security[141] under any sudden danger or alarm.
[Illustration]
In Rochester Castle there was this peculiarity among others, the passage
or narrow gallery which was lighted from the interior and by a small
loophole. This passage did not run horizontally, but rose unequally, and
without were steep steps leading to a false portal. This served as a
military stratagem, by means of which in the most desperare
circumstances the conflict might be kept up by the besieged even after
the Keep itself had been forcibly entered. Each successive rise in the
gallery was a point which could be defended by the inmates, who, when
driven back, could take up a second position in the same passage, which,
by its elevation, would give them a similar command over their
assailants, while only a few of their own body were exposed at once.
These and similar contrivances and decoys evince great ingenuity on the
part of the architects.
Another peculiarity in Rochester Castle is the absence of the lofty
artificial mound on which so many of the ancient castles are built, and
of which that of Arundel, already described, is an instance. But
Gundulph, the architect who enjoyed “the greatest celebrity in the
reigns immediately succeeding the Conquest, appears to have considered
the artificial mound, originally of Danish usage, as unnecessary.” His
castles are distinguished from all others of that period by their
stately dimensions, and the genius displayed in their design--by the
military contrivances already mentioned, and by the solidity and skilful
execution of the workmanship. His central towers are so lofty as to
contain four distinct floors: in the basement was the dungeon, without
light; while the portal, or grand entrance, was many feet above the
ground, so that the necessity for an artificial mound was greatly
obviated. But his greatest merit consisted in various architectural
contrivances, by means of which as much security was afforded to his
Keeps, as by their elevation and real strength.[142] Bishop Gundulph
died at the commencement of the twelfth century, but having completed
the Tower of London and the Castle of Rochester, he may be considered as
having invented and left models of that description of castle
architecture, which, in the opinion of all competent judges, bear ample
testimony to his abilities as an architect. He was consecrated bishop of
Rochester by his illustrious patron the archbishop Lanfranc, in March,
1077, and lived thirty years in possession of the see. He is said to
have been “the first who introduced the architectural ornaments of the
Norman style both within side and without.” Of this, the interior of the
state apartments affords abundant evidence; and whoever takes a view of
these from the <g>West Gallery</g> leading round the inside of the court,
cannot fail to be struck with the beauty of the chevron mouldings by
which the principal arches of the doors and windows are all elaborately
adorned. In many instances these mouldings appear quite sharp, as if
fresh from the sculptor’s chisel.
[Illustration]
In the Castle of Rochester there is another portion in the basement
story which is well deserving of attention. Over the present entrance is
a temporary scaffolding of wood, supported by props of the same material
inserted into the masonry beneath. On the left is a small arch with an
inner doorway; and immediately under the platform is one of larger
span, showing the thickness of the wall. Within the latter, which is of
strong compact workmanship faced with small blocks of stone, is a
staircase, consisting of a flight of Caen stone steps which lead to the
inner gallery, and thence to all the apartments. From this the light
penetrates the enclosure underneath, streaming down the steps, but in
such a manner as to increase rather than diminish the effect produced by
a survey of this melancholy receptacle. It was through this passage
that, in feudal times, the prisoners and military captives were
introduced to that destination which awaited them at the hands of the
feudal lord. Standing in this dreary vestibule, with the door of the
prison on the left, and the archway and main staircase that communicated
with the Baron’s Hall on the right, it requires but little force of
imagination to conjure up one of the many scenes of mingled triumph and
despair which must have often met and exchanged glances under that very
arch. The same victory which awoke the sounds of festive mirth in the
Hall, and summoned the Baron and his warlike knights to the feast,
consigned his prisoners to the dungeon, where the bitterness of their
fate was increased by their conscious vicinity to the Banquet Hall. Odo,
it may be presumed, made much use of this gloomy appendix to his Castle;
for the vast treasures which he collected during his occupation of the
fortress were not secured without the frequent imprisonment and
oppression of his vassals, and of those wealthier individuals in the
[Illustration]
county over whom his judicial authority extended. During the time he
exercised an almost unlimited power as Earl of Kent, and kept his court
in this Castle, most of the old writers agree in representing him as an
avaricious tyrant, whom the desire of riches impelled to the commission
of every crime, and from whose prison nothing could ransom the captive
but his gold. His grand object in accumulating so much wealth was to
facilitate his advancement to the Papal crown, to which he ardently
aspired. But his ambition was happily defeated by the measures already
mentioned. The haughty prelate was himself thrown into prison; while the
unhappy victims who filled the cells of Rochester Castle saw the prison
doors burst suddenly open, and under that very arch, perhaps, met the
welcome of those who had long regarded it as the living tomb of all
their earthly hopes.
<g>Environs.</g>--The principal object in the immediate vicinity of the Castle
is the Cathedral; but as that will be made the subject of a future
article, the next prominent feature in the landscape is the Bridge. The
first historical mention of a bridge at Rochester occurs in the various
accounts of the siege, to which we have already adverted. “Now am I come
to the bridge over the Medway,” says Lambard, “not that alone which we
presentlie behold, but another, also more ancient in time though less
beautiful in work, which neither stoode in the self same place where
this is, neither yet verie farre off; for that crossed the water over
against Stroud Hospital, and this latter is pitched some distance from
thence towards the south.”[143] “That old worke being of timber
building, was fyred by Symon, the Earl of Leycester, in the time of
Henry the Third; and not full twentie yeares after, it was borne away
with the ice in the reign of King Edward, his sonne.” Kilburne, in
addition to the above, says, that “Fitzwalter put out the fyre and saved
it.” This, however, appears contrary to the fact; for in his attempt to
co-operate with Albini, Fitzwalter marched no “further than Dartford,
and then marched back again.” It was not till two years after that
Leicester set fire to it in the manner described, when the wooden tower
and arches were burnt down.
Dr. Thorpe, in his Antiquities, was of opinion that the first bridge
over the Medway at this point, namely between Rochester and Stroud, was
built in the reign of Edgar the Peaceable.[144] It is certain, however,
that there was a bridge here before the Conquest, and that on divers
tracts of land an annual tax was imposed for keeping it in repair. This
is proved by several very ancient MSS., one of which, in the Saxon
language, marks with exactness such portions of the work as were to be
executed by the respective landlords. The bridge was then of wood, and
placed in the line of the principal streets of Rochester and Stroud; it
was four hundred and thirty feet in length, nearly the present breadth
of the river at this place, and consisted of nine piers with eight
spaces or arches. But the depth of water, its constant rapidity, the
occasional roughness of the tides, and the shocks of large bodies of ice
at the breaking up of winter, occasioned such frequent and severe
damage, that the repairs became a heavy burden to the owners of the
contributory lands.[145]
In a petition presented to Parliament at the end of the fourteenth
century, the landholders who were taxed for the repairs of the bridge
were represented as having been nearly reduced to ruin in consequence,
and that the bridge at the same time was very unsafe for passengers.
Under these circumstances, Sir Robert Knowles and Sir John de Cobham
built at their joint expense the present bridge, thereby relieving
private individuals from an oppressive tax, and conferring a lasting
benefit on the public. In the reign of Richard II. a patent was obtained
from the crown, which was afterwards confirmed by the Parliament, for
constituting the proprietors a body corporate, under the title of
Wardens and Commonalty, and a license granted enabling them to receive,
and hold in mortmain, lands and tenements to the amount of two hundred
pounds per annum. Sir John Cobham was the first and greatest benefactor,
and his example was followed by such liberal donations from others that
the estates usually termed proper, became in process of time justly
adequate to the repairs of the bridge, without levying any assessment on
the contributory lands.[146]
[Illustration]
Until the erection of that at Westminster, Rochester Bridge was justly
considered the second in the kingdom; and even now, after the splendid
structures which have sprung up in recent times, it is still an object
of great elegance and beauty. Its original length was four hundred and
sixty feet by fifteen in breadth. It consisted of eleven arches, the
largest of which had a space of forty feet, and the others above thirty.
At one of these spaces between the piers was formerly a drawbridge, by
means of which the castellan who held command of the fortress could
break off all communication with the opposite banks of the river. The
greatest water-way is three hundred and forty feet. Joneval,[147] in his
Travels, makes a mistake in supposing that this bridge “is founded on a
rock;” the piers rest on wooden piles, and to have laid the foundation
of so massive a fabric in a river where the flux and reflux of the tide
are so strong, must have been an arduous undertaking. Unfortunately the
name of the architect has not descended to posterity, but the bridge is
a lasting monument to his genius.[148]
At the east end of the bridge was formerly a chapel, founded by Sir John
Cobham, with an endowment of eighteen pounds a year, payable out of the
bridge lands, for the support of three priests. According to the rules
established by the founder, three masses were to be said daily; the
first between five and six in the morning, the second between eight and
nine, and the third between eleven and twelve o’clock, so that
travellers might have an opportunity of being present at the sacred
offices. But at each mass there was to be a special collect for all the
benefactors to the bridge, living or dead, and for the souls of Sir John
Cobham and others, whose names were to be recited. There was another
chapel at the west end of this bridge, but its exact site is not known.
<g>Memorabilia.</g>--When the Emperor Charles the Fifth made his second visit
to England, in the summer of 1522, he arrived at Rochester on the second
of June, where he was received by Henry the Eighth, and set out on the
following day for London, or rather the royal palace of Greenwich. It
was at Rochester, also, that King Henry had his first interview with
Anne of Cleves, whose reception at Blackheath has been already
described. Her picture, it is said, had been drawn in so flattering a
manner by Holbein, that the amorous monarch, impatient to see the
original, set out incognito for Rochester on the morning of her expected
arrival in that city, and in the evening was among the first to bid her
welcome. The painter, however, was detected in having practised a great
deception: Anne was not the divinity represented on the canvas; Henry
was disappointed, and is recorded to have vented his chagrin in terms
far from complimentary to the Lady Anne, or the minister who had
negotiated the alliance. This, however, he disguised; and before taking
leave presented her with a “suit of sables, as a new year’s gift.”
In April, 1556, Rochester was the theatre of one of those horrid scenes
which disgraced the reign of Queen Mary. John Harpole, of St. Nicholas
parish, and Joan Beach, of Tunbridge, were burnt alive as heretics,
according to the sentence of Maurice Gryffith, bishop of the see, for
denying the authority of the Church, and the transubstantiation of the
sacramental elements.--See History of Rochester, with biographical
notices of the bishops.
Queen Elizabeth, who took great pride in superintending the naval
department, in which she foresaw the only sure bulwark of her empire,
made it her custom to visit, among many other places in Kent, Chatham
Dock-yard. On one occasion she spent four days at the Crown Inn of
Rochester; but on the fifth accepted the hospitality of one of her loyal
subjects, Mr. Watts, at his house at Boley Hill, near the Castle; to
which, according to tradition, she gave the title of _Satis_ as
expressive of her satisfaction with her entertainment.
On the return of King Charles the Second to England, he was received at
Rochester with demonstrations of loyalty, and conferred the honour of
knighthood on two gentlemen of the place, named Clarke and Swan. The
Mayor and Corporation at the same time presented his Majesty with a
silver basin and ewer, which were “graciously accepted.” Here, also,
James the Second arrived after his abdication, and continued for a week
under the protection of a Dutch garrison; but, apprehensive of his
personal safety, he went privately on board a tender, set sail, and,
with the Duke of Berwick and others of his suite, landed at Ambleteuse
in Picardy.
Another object of no little interest, on the opposite side of the river,
is Upnor Castle, famous in history for the attack made upon it by
Admiral Van Ruyter.[149] Having burnt the storehouses, and blown up the
fortifications at Sheerness, Van Ruyter despatched the second Admiral,
Van Ghent, up the Medway, which Monk, Duke of Albemarle, had secured as
well as the circumstances of the case would allow. But a strong east
wind and springtide bringing up the enemy with resistless force, a chain
was immediately broken; three Dutch ships, taken in the war and
stationed to guard the chain, were set fire to by Van Ghent to retrieve
his country’s honour; and, pressing forward between the sinking ships,
he brought six of his men-of-war and fire-ships in front of Upnor
Castle. Major Scott, who had command of the fort, gave them as warm a
reception as the condition of the place would permit, and was well
seconded by Sir Edward Spragge, who had escaped from Sheerness, and now
opened his guns upon the enemy from a battery at Cockham Wood.[150] The
Dutch, however, seized the hull of the Royal Charles, and on their
return burnt the Royal Oak, and much damaged two other ships of the
line. Captain Douglas, who commanded the Royal Oak, was burnt in his
ship, although he might easily have escaped. But “No!” said this
intrepid commander, when he perceived the danger and was urged to
strike, “No--it was never known that a Douglas left his post without
orders;” and thus resolved, he perished in the flames.
Among the numerous tourists who have made Rochester and its Castle the
subjects of remark, is the celebrated Hogarth, who, in company of four
of his intimate friends, Tothall, Scott, Thornhill, and Forrest, made an
excursion of four days to this part of the county in May, 1732, which is
amusingly detailed in a short folio brochure, accompanied with ten
illustrations and caricatures of their adventures, and published in
1781.
[Illustration]
<g>Classical Scenes.</g>--To every reader of Shakspeare the names of Gadshill,
Falstaff, and Prince Hal, will conjure up many ludicrous associations;
and few travellers will enter Rochester from the west, without a short
halt on this poetical ground,--the spot where Prince Henry and his
dissolute associates robbed the Sandwich carriers, and the auditors who
were carrying money to the royal exchequer. Theobold mentions that he
had read an old play, in which the scene opens with Prince Henry’s
robberies, and Gadshill is there named as one of the gang.[151] A
comfortable inn, with a characteristic sign of Falstaff on one side, and
Prince Hal on the other, invites him to alight for half an hour, and
over a “cup of sack” peruse that mirth-moving scene in the first Part of
“Henry the Fourth,” which has conferred immortality on the spot:--