CARISBROOKE CASTLE,

<g>Isle of Wight</g>.

When as the pliant Muse, with plain and easy flight

Betwixt her silver wings is wafted to the <g>Wight</g>,

That isle which jutteth out into the sea so farre,

Her offspring traineth up in exercise of warre.

Of all the southern isles she holds the highest place,

And th’ greatest coronal hath been in Britain’s grace.--POLYOLBION.

<g>Among</g> the Anglo-Norman fortresses which so long upheld the feudal power,

and maintained the independence of the British Islands, that of

Carisbrooke holds a distinguished place. Crowning an elevated position

near the centre of the island,--of which it has been for ages the

ornament and safeguard,--and from its keep and battlements commanding

every approach, it had all the advantages which the necessities and

warlike spirit of the times could demand. It appears to have been

selected as a post of defence from the remotest period of the Saxon

monarchy, of which it still retains many substantial vestiges; and

although nothing has been discovered that connects it by positive

evidence with the Roman epoch, there can be no reasonable doubt of its

having been one of the numerous military stations occupied by that

people for the vigorous maintenance of its power.

At last, after the lapse of four centuries, the sway of the Cæsars began

to wax faint; and when the victorious legions were finally withdrawn

from the British shores, the natives, taking advantage of the strong

places which had previously kept them in awe, seized them to their own

use, and over the Roman substruction erected, after their own manner,

the bulwarks of native strength and independence. Of this the keep, or

donjon, hereafter to be noticed, presents clear and distinct evidence;

but whether comprised in the fifty castles reconstructed by

Alfred--under the circumstances already stated in this work--remains

uncertain. From the localities, however, and other particulars which

distinguished the castles so built or repaired on Roman foundations, it

appears highly probable that Carisbrooke owes its preservation to that

wise and patriotic monarch. Continually harassed by foreign marauders

who infested these narrow seas, he found no measure so effectual as that

of erecting castles and garrisoned forts on all those points of the

coast most exposed to their piratical fury. But after the death of this

monarch, and the conflicting policy which, during a century and a half,

prepared the way for Norman supremacy, the national bulwarks had

suffered from neglect; they were mostly ungarrisoned, and nearly all so

much dilapidated that they could offer no effectual resistance against

an invading enemy--a fact which readily accounts for the easy conquest

which awaited the Norman army on its first landing on the coast of

Sussex.

After the battle of Hastings, the Conqueror, with that characteristic

policy which marked his actions, adopted every measure for the

consolidation of his authority, by portioning out to his martial

followers the domestic strongholds and landed possessions of the

vanquished and proscribed natives. Of the Norman barons who then shared

the profuse liberality of their leader, we have mentioned several

instances in the course of the present work. But among the chief men who

owed him fealty, and whose friendship and faithful services it was

important to conciliate by rewards for the past, and the prospect of

others in future, none came in for a more enviable share of his favour

than his near kinsman,

<g>William Fitz-Osborne.</g>--This warlike Norman had accompanied his Chief in

the expedition to England; and, among the brilliant circle of martial

attendants who had espoused his cause, stood eminently distinguished for

his talents and experience. He had the entire confidence of his

sovereign; and at the battle of Hastings, where Roger Montgomery had

also a high

[Illustration]

command, performed the honourable and arduous duties of marshal of the

army. Recommended to the Conqueror by the ties of blood, as well as by

the high military talents which he had displayed in the field, he

receiving a grant of the Isle of Wight,--“Ita, Gulielmus Filius Osborni,

<g>Veetam Insulam</g> conquisivit, primusque Vectæ Dominus erat.” He was made

constable of the newly-erected Castles of Winchester and York, and

installed in the high office of Chief Justiciary for the King in the

north. In the exercise of his new authority as Lord of Wight, he appears

to have acted towards the old inhabitants with a rigour and

exclusiveness which strongly evinced his distrust of their professed

attachment to the foreign dynasty. Proceeding to the very extreme of the

feudal despotism with which he had been so recently invested, he

expelled the native inhabitants, divided their possessions among his

Norman followers and retainers, and, reconstructing the ancient fortress

of Carisbrooke, surrounded himself with a host of martial adherents, who

held their new possessions on condition of military service to the

chief, wheresoever and whensoever it should be required.

Having had the first grant of the Isle of Wight from the Conqueror, “to

be held as freely as he himself held the kingdom of England,”

Fitz-Osborne instituted the Knights’ Court, which was one of the

privileges enjoyed by him as lord of the island, namely, that of holding

a judicial tribunal called “Curia Militum,” from the judges being such

as held a knight’s fee from the lord of the island, who “gave judgment

as courts of equity without a jury.”

To this powerful Baron the whole of the Norman work now remaining in the

Castle of Carisbrooke may be attributed. In Domesday Book he is called

William Fitz-Osborne, Earl of Hereford--a name familiar in the pages of

our early history. But his enterprising career was cut short by the

casualties of war, when he had been scarcely four years in possession of

the island; for, being sent by the Queen to support Ernulf, Count of

Hainault, who was then enforcing his family claim to the earldom of

Flanders, both she and the count were slain in battle. Dugdale is of

opinion that he adopted this quarrel from the relationship which

subsisted between that nobleman and himself--he having married for his

second wife Rechildis, the mother of Count Ernulf, the Queen’s nephew.

His remains were interred with great ceremony in the Abbey of

Cormeilles, which he had founded, and in which one of his sons had

previously become a monk. Bequeathing his Norman possessions to his

second son, those of England, including the earldom of Hereford and

lordship of the Isle of Wight, descended to his eldest son,

<g>Roger de Bretteville</g>--so named from the place of his birth.--Taking part

with the turbulent spirits of his day, and highly irritated by the

King’s refusal to sanction the marriage of his sister Emma with Ralph de

Waer, or Ralph de Guader, Earl of Norfolk, he took advantage of the

King’s absence in Normandy to have the union solemnized by a grand

public festival, at which were present many of the great military

tenants of the crown, who, readily entering into the rash views of

Hereford, concerted measures for dethroning the King. The conspiracy,

however, was divulged by Waltheof, Earl of Northumberland, who was

nevertheless beheaded for his participation therein at Winchester. They

were routed by the King’s forces at a place called Fagadune; and the

wreck of the insurgents escaping to Norwich, fortified themselves in the

castle for a time, but were soon forced to surrender. Earl Roger made

his escape to Hereford; but being apprehended and brought to trial, he

was found guilty of levying war against his sovereign, and condemned to

perpetual imprisonment and the loss of his estates. The rigours of

confinement and confiscation, however, do not appear to have subdued his

haughty spirit; for at the feast of Easter, when the King sent him a

gracious present of certain costly robes--consisting of a royal mantle,

an inner surcoat of silk, and an upper garment lined with precious furs,

in remembrance of the station he once held in the King’s favour--Earl

Roger caused a fire to be lighted in his prison, and, throwing the royal

present into it, stood by with a look of complaisance, and chafing his

hands at the blaze, till the whole present was consumed. This insane and

insolent act being immediately reported to the King, he swore his usual

oath--“per splendorem Dei”--by the glory of God--that in future Earl

Roger’s only robe should be the roof of his prison! He kept his word:

the Earl was remanded to strict confinement, and died about six years

afterwards, leaving two sons, Raynald and Roger, both excellent soldiers

under King Henry I. <g>Carisbrooke Castle</g> and the honor attached now

reverted to the crown, in which it continued till the next reign, when

it was granted to--

[Illustration]

<g>Richard de Redvers</g>, first of that name, being nephew to the late earl,

and son of Baldwin de Brion. Remaining faithful to Henry in the contest

which followed, he was rewarded by many additional marks of royal

favour--the chief of which were those of Earl of Devon and Lord of the

Isle of Wight. When Henry I. granted not only his lands, but also the

dominion over the whole Isle of Wight to Richard de Redvers, to be held

in _escuage_ at fifteen knights’ fees and a half, the crown had from

that time no demand on the landholders of the island. The king received

escuage, or scutage, from the lord of the island only, whose tenants

were chargeable only in aid to him; they held their lands as “of the

Castle of Carisbrooke,” whence, in the Liber Fœdorum, it is styled the

Honor of Carisbrooke. They were chargeable towards making the lord’s

eldest son a knight, and to the marrying of his daughter. All heirs

under age were in the wardship of the lord of the island; the tenants

were bound to defend the castle for forty days at their own charges

whenever it should be attacked, and were also to attend the lord at his

coming into, and at his leaving, the island. The lord had the return of

the king’s writs, he nominated his own bailiffs, and his constable was

coroner within the island; he had a chase, now called the Forest of

Parkhurst; and a fence month not only there, but in certain moors, with

a free warren on the east side of the river Medina. He had also wrecks,

waifs, and strays, with fairs and markets at Newport and Yarmouth.--Sir

R. Worsley.

His great liberality to the church secured him the peaceable enjoyment

of what he retained for his own use; and with the king’s favour, and the

monks’ benison, he quietly put off this life in the first year of the

reign of King Stephen, and was succeeded by his son,

<g>Baldwin de Redvers</g>, or Rivers.--In the contest between the Empress Maud

and King Stephen--to which we have adverted at some length in our notice

of Arundel--Baldwin espoused the cause of the lady; and putting

Carisbrooke and the other assailable points of his insular lordship in a

state of defence, placed them at her service. The policy and tactics of

King Stephen, however, prevailed. The warlike engines which he had

invented for the defence of his Castle, at “the expense of much

treasure,” proved of little avail, so that he was obliged to capitulate,

and with his wife and family took refuge beyond sea. Matters, however,

were afterwards so far accommodated, that he was again permitted to

resume his hereditary station and dignities as “Lord of the Isle” and

Earl of Devon. Among many pious works and benefactions, he founded the

Cistercian Abbey of Quarr--the ruins of which still attract admiration

in the neighbourhood; for it amounted to an article of faith in those

times, that whoever should build a castle, was bound to erect and endow

some convent, cloister, or priory in its vicinity, so that the military

baron might thereby secure the prayers of the monks, and a family

sepulchre.

Of this family and name were several other “Lords of the Isle,” who held

the Castle and Honor of Carisbrooke in succession, and who were

distinguished in the history between the period just mentioned and the

death of King John. Among these was--

<g>William de ‘Vernon’</g>--from his having been educated in that place. He was

one of the four nobles who supported the silken canopy over the head of

Richard Cœur-de-Lion, at his second coronation at Winchester, after he

had returned from the dungeon of Dürrenstein--an Austrian castle on the

Danube. He also, as Earl of the Isle of Wight, united with the other

barons in their successful resistance against the extortion and tyranny

of King John, and was instrumental in wresting from him the grand

bulwark of English liberty. (King John, it may be remembered, selected

the Isle of Wight as a place of safe retreat; and here he lived for

several months with a few members of his court, in expectation of

subsidies from France.) William de Vernon resided mostly at his <g>Castle

of Carisbrooke</g>, which, though far from being so extensive as many other

fortresses of that day, was still a place of great strength, and had

been successively repaired and embellished by the resident lords of the

island. It commanded then, as it does in the present day, enchanting

views of the intervening channel--the adjacent coast--and of that

inland scenery which is so justly admired, so eagerly studied and

imitated on the canvas of the painter. In that remote period, however,

the landscape had probably a much more forest-like appearance than at

[Illustration]

later periods; for the Norman fashion of appropriating large districts

to the pleasures of the chase, which was considered an indispensable

adjunct to martial training, had been long adopted in the Isle of Wight,

where an extensive park, filled with game, surrounded the Castle, and

threw open a vast field of amusement to the feudal lord and his

retainers, several of whom attended him in the chase, as they were bound

to do on the day of battle. We observe, in the later history of the

island, that Edward III. imposed on John Maltravers, for certain lands

held by him in the county of Dorset, the following service: That he

“should attend the king at his Castle of Carisbrooke for one day at his

own charge, both for himself and horse, and afterwards to remain during

the king’s pleasure; but both himself and horse in that case were to be

maintained by the crown.

At the death of Earl Baldwin, the Castle of Carisbrooke was placed by

King John under the sheriff of the county; the wardship of his son was

given to Falk de Briant, (who had married the mother of the young

count,) whom the historian of St. Alban’s stigmatizes as an impious,

ignoble, and base-conditioned man. For in noticing the death of this

“Lady of the Isle,” he characterizes her as “nobilis ac generosa domina

quondam uxor Falcasii cruentissimi proditoris;” and adds--“Copulabatur

tamen eidem ignobili nobilis; pia impio; turpi speciosa, invita et

coacta; tradente eam Johanne tyranno. De qua copula quidam ait satis

eleganter;

“Lex connectit eos, amor, et concordia lecti.

Sed lex qualis? amor qualis? concordia qualis?

Lex exlex; amor exosus; concordia discors.”

Our space, however, will not allow us to quote the frightful dream

related by Father Matthew, which transformed this “wolf into a lamb,”

and sent him to prostrate himself before the Abbot of St. Alban’s and

his brethren, as the most abject of sinners.

<g>Baldwin</g>, the fifth of that name, who, along with the title of Earl of

Devon, had enjoyed the lordship of Carisbrooke, married a princess of

Savoy, cousin of Queen Eleanor; and at the nuptials of the Duke of

Brittany with Beatrice, the daughter of King Henry III., received the

honour of knighthood. He gave the first charter of franchise to the town

of Yarmouth, and obtained the grant of a fair and market to be held at

Carisbrooke--a grant of great importance in those times. At an

entertainment given about two years afterwards by his kinsman Peter,

Count of Savoy, he, together with Richard, Earl of Gloucester, and

others, is said to have been poisoned. But in those times any disease

that powerfully affected the digestive organs was frequently construed

as the result of poison. That such was in numerous instances the fact,

is not to be denied; but that every death, preceded by symptoms like

those that usually supervened on the employment of deleterious drugs,

was an act of poisoning, is no more to be credited than that

consumption, or marasmus, was, in later times, the effect of witchcraft.

But when, in reality, the art of poisoning was both studied and

practised, it was natural in the bystanders to explain the mystery of

any peculiarly sudden and fatal disease by ascribing it to poison. The

frequent recurrence of these facts or suspicions in the old chronicles,

is a proof that the practice was universally admitted; and it is painful

to observe the ingenious precautions adopted by persons of rank, in

order to avert the danger to which they were daily exposed in the use of

their domestic viands. But, reserving this curious subject for a more

convenient season, we pass to the next lord of Carisbrooke; and the late

Earl of Baldwin leaving no surviving issue, the honors and estates

devolved on his sister,

<g>Isabella de Fortibus</g>, so named from her having married William de

Fortibus, Earl of Albemarle.--This lady, after the death of her husband,

took up her residence in Carisbrooke Castle, where she lived in great

state, appeared much in public, and obtained great popularity as Lady of

the Isle--<g>Domina Insulæ</g>--both from her attention to the general

interests of the inhabitants, and her particular liberality to religious

houses. She was not so blind, however, as to permit herself to be

overreached by her monastic neighbour, the Abbot of Quarrera, by whom

many grave complaints were lodged against her for having only scattered

her pious liberalities with one hand, that she might levy contributions

with the other. If in one instance she conferred a benefaction to the

church, she withheld its lands on another; so that at last the murmurs

of abbots and priors became so loud that they reached the king’s ear,

and produced an order for the sheriff of Hampshire to take the Abbey

lands of Quarr under royal protection till matters between the countess

and the convent could be adjusted. Our limits do not permit us to

enlarge upon this lady’s administration of her authority; but it is

certain that her residence at <g>Carisbrooke Castle</g> was highly beneficial

to the island; and to her charter of franchise the beautiful town of

Newport owes its

[Illustration]

foundation and subsequent prosperity. She had five children--three sons

and two daughters, Hawise and Avelina; the youngest of whom surviving

her brothers and sister, and inheriting the vast possessions of her

family, married King Henry’s son, Edmund Crouchback, but died without

issue in her mother’s lifetime.

On the demise of this countess, the will by which, within a few hours of

her death, she had conveyed the Isle of Wight to Edward I., was disputed

by the heir-at-law, Hugh Courtenay; but after much evidence produced on

both sides, it became finally vested in the king, who retained it in his

own hands during life. At the accession of the weak and unfortunate son

who succeeded the magnanimous Edward, the lordship of Carisbrooke and of

the Isle of Wight was bestowed on his unprincipled favourite--

<g>Piers Gavestone.</g>--But this grant having occasioned great disapprobation

among the nobility, who now gave open expression to their sentiments,

Gavestone held the lordship only twelve months, when it was bestowed by

the King on his son Edward, Earl of Chester--the renowned Edward III.,

who also retained possession of it during his life, and conducted the

affairs of the island by wardens selected from the resident gentlemen,

and who, in right of office, had their residence in the Castle. The

popularity of this sovereign was acknowledged by many acts of valour on

the part of the inhabitants; who, on every instance of aggression from

French or other hostile cruisers, repulsed the invaders, and preserved

the enviable title of their “invincible island.” In the reign of his

grandson Richard II., the lordship of the Isle and Castle of Carisbrooke

was granted to

<g>William Montacute</g>, son of the first earl of that name, who, for his

service in apprehending Mortimer in the Queen’s chamber--a scene

immortalized by Drayton--was elevated to the earldom of Salisbury. This

lord of the isle was a mirror of chivalry; had filled with honour the

highest posts of the state, and in the body-guard of Edward III. had

performed many gallant exploits, which still figure in the martial

chronicles of the fourteenth century. He had the misfortune, however,

amidst all his glory, to slay his only son in a grand tilting-match at

Windsor. But we shall have to introduce this illustrious family under

another and more appropriate head of the work in hand. He died without

issue; directing by will, that his body should be interred in the

Conventual church of Bustleham, founded by his father; that every day,

until his corpse should arrive at that place, seventy-five shillings

should be distributed in alms to three hundred poor; that twenty-four

poor persons, each dressed in a gown of black cloth with a red hood,

should bear torches of eight pounds weight on the day of his funeral:

also, that there should be nine wax lights and three ‘mortars’ of wax

about his body, and banners of his arms placed on every pillar of the

church; moreover, that thirty pounds should be given to the monks to

sing trentals and pray for his soul; and lastly, that his executors

should expend five hundred marks in finishing the sacred structure at

Bustleham, and in erecting a tomb there for his father and mother; and

another for himself and his son, who had married the daughter of

Richard, Earl of Arundel, and was killed in the tilting-match already

mentioned. The above ceremonial, as related by Dugdale, presents so

striking a sketch of the manners of the time, and of the “pomp and

circumstance” which this lord of the island had “willed” should

commemorate his final departure, that we have inserted it by way of

colouring to the general picture. The black gowns--scarlet

hoods--lugubrious chant--blazing torches--waving banners--waxen tapers

and mortars--all unite to form a spectacle that must have left a vivid

impression on the minds of the spectators. The ceremony which attended

the obsequies of his widow is no less curious as a picture of the times,

and will be found in the same authority. It is supposed that this

nobleman, during his lordship of the isle, contributed several important

alterations and repairs to the castle; a circumstance which is rendered

more probable by the arms of the family, consisting of three lozenges,

being placed on a buttress at the corner of part of the governor’s

lodging. The next personage who figured as lord of Carisbrooke was

<g>Edward, Earl of Rutland</g>, son of Edmund de Langley, fifth son of Edward

III., and Duke of Albemarle, whose numerous posts of high honour and

public trust evince the entire confidence reposed in him by King

Richard, who found him but too pliant an instrument in the execution of

his atrocious designs, of which some notice has already been taken in

our account of the “Fitzalan Conspiracy.” The crimes, however, to which

he was then accessary, and which, by the confiscations which ensued,

added greatly to his possessions, brought at last the stroke of

retribution; for on Bolingbroke’s ascending the throne, he was degraded

in rank. He then entered into a conspiracy to take away the King’s life

at Windsor; but confessing the treason, was pardoned, restored to honour

and confidence, inherited his father’s title as Duke of York, and, after

having filled the high post of Lieutenant of the Duchy of Aquitaine,

fell at last in the battle of Agincourt. Leaving no family, he was

succeeded in his rights to the castle and manor of <g>Carisbrooke</g> and the

island, by his surviving duchess, Philippa, daughter of John, Lord de

Mohun, Baron of Dunster. To this lady succeeded, in the seventeenth of

Henry VI.,

[Illustration]

<g>Humphrey “the Good,”</g> Duke of Gloucester, whose character and death have

been already detailed in our account of St. Albans. He appears to have

been Seignior of Carisbrooke and the Isle of Wight during a period of

eight years; and after his death the office of Constable of Carisbrooke

was held by Henry Tranchard, in virtue of a royal grant. But the

greatest event in the history of the castle and the island at this time,

was the coronation of a King of the Isle of Wight in the person of

<g>Henry Beauchamp</g>, Duke of Warwick, son of Richard, Earl of Warwick, who

had previously filled the high office of Regent of France. “Henricus

Comes de Warwic a rege Henrico 6ᵗᵒ. cui charissimus erat coronatus est

in regem de Wight et postea nominatus primus comes totius Angliæ.” At

this august ceremony the king assisted in person, and with his own hands

placed the crown on the head of his subject-monarch--but to whom the

title of king conveyed no regal power, and invested him with no

authority in the island; the lordship of which was still possessed by

Duke Humphrey, who survived the new-made and short-lived king for some

time. To this youthful sovereign--“cropt in the flower of his youth, and

before his heroic virtues could be known,” we have already alluded in

the historical notice of Tewkesbury; and in that of Warwick will be

found several interesting particulars of his family and political

connexions. Subsequent to this period of its history, the lordship of

the castle and island appears to have been successively enjoyed by

Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York; Edmund, Duke of Somerset; Henry his

son; Anthony, Earl Rivers; and Sir Edward Wydeville his brother, who was

appointed to the Captaincy of the island immediately after the accession

of Henry VII. Of Sir Edward, the following incidents are recorded by

Holinshed, Dugdale, Worsley, and others:--Three years after his

appointment to the island, when the rupture between the Duke of Brittany

and the King of France was at its height, Wydeville, or Woodville,

presuming on the King’s partiality to the Duke’s cause, undertook to do

what he conceived would prove highly acceptable to his royal master, and

asked permission to take arms in the Duke’s interest. His offer of

service, however, being declined, he still indulged the belief that in

secret the king was favourable to his design, and only withheld his

approbation that he, who had undertaken the office of mediator between

the parties, might not be supposed to violate the rules of strict

neutrality. Stimulated by this persuasion, Wydeville set instantly to

work, and assembling the islanders at Carisbrooke, addressed them in a

powerful harangue, appealing to them as sons of the “invincible island,”

and urging them to take arms in a cause which the king had much at

heart, and who would certainly acknowledge their loyal service in a

manner which would secure blessings to themselves and their posterity.

His eloquence, his political influence, and the well-known intrepidity

of his character, had their due effect; and from all parts of the

island, veterans and raw recruits flew to his standard. From the

multitude assembled, he was enabled to select as fine a body of men as

ever drew sword or bow; and hastening his preparations, a powerful force

was speedily equipped and ready for action. They consisted, says

Worsley, of “forty gentlemen, and four hundred common soldiers”--all men

of stamp and martial courage--the flower of the island; and with these,

dressed in white coats and red crosses, he embarked at the small port of

St. Helen’s in four vessels, and set sail for Brittany. The hour of his

departure was anxiously watched by the assembled population, who crowded

the shore--all anxious to take a last look of their fathers, sons,

brothers, lovers, friends, and companions, who now, elated with hope and

buoyed up with assurances of many brilliant rewards, felt like men who

were only leaving penury and obscurity to reap an abundant harvest, and

bask in the light of a victorious sun. From every religious house in the

island, monks had arrived to consecrate the departing banners, and

pronounce a blessing on the martial sons of the isle. But the scene was

such as may be more easily imagined than described. There might be

sorrow indeed, when a mother parted with her son--a maid with her

lover--or when a Jew beheld his creditor on the point of escape! But the

general expression was that of exultation. All predicted speedy triumphs

and a safe return; but how different was the result!

Landed on the French shore, the islanders were joined by fifteen hundred

of the Duke’s forces, all dressed in the same uniform; and thus welcomed

and encouraged, they longed ardently for battle. Their desire was soon

granted: meeting the King’s army at St. Aubin, a sanguinary conflict

ensued; but neither the unflinching gallantry of the islanders, nor the

firm, intrepid example of their captain, could avert the terrible

disaster which followed. The Duke’s army was completely routed. The

English, who had sworn either to keep the field as victors, or to cover

it with their dead bodies, stood like a wall of brass around their

leader, and again and again repulsed the iron columns that successively

charged and recoiled before them. But, overwhelmed by numbers, and

deserted by those whom they had come to serve, they fought with such

desperation, that of the whole force only one man is said to have

returned with the mournful tidings of the day.

The fate of this expedition threw the whole island into mourning: not a

family but had lost some of its members or relatives; gloom and

distraction were everywhere apparent; the Abbey of Quarr, priory, and

chapel, resounded with solemn anthems and masses for the dead--masses

which, whatever rest they procured for the slain, were dearly purchased

by the

[Illustration]

survivors, many of whom spent their last penny in the purchase of a

requiem. All that Scotland lost by the Field of Flodden, this island

lost--only in a smaller degree--at the battle of St. Aubin--the flower

of its chivalry, youth, and talent. With the exception of the grey

veterans who still trod the battlements, or stood sentinel at the <g>Wicket</g>

of Carisbrooke Castle, there was scarcely a man left fit to bear arms.

From the date of this ill-fated expedition, the lordship of Carisbrooke

became part of the royal demesne, and has continued ever since annexed

to the crown. Among the king’s lieutenants and wardens who had

successively command of the castle and military force of the island,

between the reign of Edward IV. and that of Elizabeth, several names

occur which held distinguished places in the history of their day; but

however pleasing it might be to enrich our pages with traits of

individual character, acts of public service, and instances of private

worth, we must relinquish this task for the present; but with the

history of the old baronial families, as we proceed, most of the traits

and anecdotes here omitted will be found incorporated. It may be

mentioned, however, in passing, that in the captainship of Richard

Worsley the island was visited by Henry VIII., who, attended by his

favourite, Lord Cromwell--then constable of the castle, and afterwards

beheaded--partook of the various entertainments prepared for him at the

Captain’s seat of Appuldurcumbe. The object of the King’s visit on this

occasion, observes the historian, appears to have been “to amuse

himself with hawking, or some other species of chase,” as he had some

time previously, in a letter dated “at our manʳof Otland,” given strict

orders for the preservation of the game in the royal demesne.

We shall now pass on to a later epoch, in order to take a glance of the

Castle of Carisbrooke, as it stood when garrisoned by the troops of

Henry’s magnanimous daughter, Queen Elizabeth. Hitherto the personal

valour and independent spirit of the inhabitants had been sufficient to

protect the Isle of Wight from the violence of enemies, to which, by its

natural position, it was continually exposed. Now, however, it was

deemed expedient by government to strengthen it by the construction of

new forts, and the better appointment of those that had stood the waste

of centuries. With this view, the master-fort of the island, the Castle

of Carisbrooke, underwent a thorough change. What was old was repaired

and accommodated to the modern art of war; extensive additions,

barracks, arsenals, and outer works--as shown in the plan--were added;

so that whatever was considered by the engineers of Elizabeth’s reign as

necessary for a military fortress, was carefully bestowed on that of

Carisbrooke. The embrasures, in which rested the ponderous ordnance of

modern warfare, contrasted strongly with the diminutive loopholes

through which had glanced the feathered shafts of Fitz-Osborne; while

the tramp of musketeers and troopers, who now paced its battlements and

crowded its barracks, gave to the ancient precincts much of the stir and

animation of a great citadel. But the “Invincible Armada,” which had

presented so many terrors--and for the effectual resistance of which so

many preparations had been made--passed harmlessly by, to waste its

strength in

[Illustration]

conflict with the waves. The castle at this time was under the command

of Sir George Carey, “captain” or “governor” of the island,--whose

<g>Residence</g>, with the barracks adjoining, forms a prominent feature in the

castle. But in the absence of military events, the following anecdote,

in proof of the peace and harmony which prevailed among the inhabitants

at that time, occurs in the Memoirs of Sir John Oglander: “I have

heard,” says he, “and partly know it to be true, that not only

heretofore there was no lawyer or attorney in our island; but that, in

Sir George Carey’s time, an attorney coming to settle in the island, he

was, with a pound of candles dangling at his heels, lighted, with bells

about his legs, and hunted out of the island; insomuch as our ancestors

lived here so quietly and securely, being neither troubled to go to

London nor Winchester, so they seldom or never went out of the

island--insomuch that when they went to London, thinking it an East

India voyage, they always made their wills.”--We now return to a survey

of

<g>The Castle</g>--which has undergone little or no alteration since the above

period--and gladly avail ourselves of Sir Richard Worsley’s authority as

the ground-work of the short sketch which follows. Considering that the

principal difference between a Saxon and Norman castle consisted in the

former having built one regular entire fortification round, or as nearly

so as the nature of the ground would admit; while the latter built

theirs in two distinct fortifications--the keep, and the base-court; it

has been concluded by Strutt and others, that the keep of Carisbrooke

Castle is entirely of ancient British or Saxon workmanship, and that the

base-court was added by the Normans. Of the original Saxon fortress,

rebuilt by Fitz-Osborne, the walls enclose about an acre and a half, and

in figure are nearly a rectangular parallelogram, having the angles

rounded. The greatest space is from east to west. The old or Norman

Castle is surrounded by a more modern fortification, faced with stone,

of an irregular pentagonal form, defended by five bastions. These

outworks, which are in circuit about three quarters of a mile and

surrounded by a deep ditch, circumscribe in the whole about twenty

acres. They were added in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and constructed

by the Italian engineer Genebella, on the same plan as those of Antwerp.

The work was undertaken at the representation of the governor, Sir

George Carey, when the country was menaced by the Spanish Armada. In aid

of the expenses, Queen Elizabeth gave four thousand pounds; the

gentlemen of the island gave four hundred more, and the commonalty

contributed their personal labour by digging the outward ditch gratis.

For the following particulars the reader is referred to the Ground Plan

at the close of the present subject.

On a small projecting stone on the north-east corner is carved the date

M.D.XCVIII. The entrance is on the west side in the curtain, between two

bastions through a small stone gateway; on the arch of which is the same

date, with the initial letters <g>E. R.</g> (p. 296.) This gate leads to a

second of much greater antiquity, machicolated, and flanked by two large

round towers. It is supposed to have been built by Lord Woodville in the

time of Edward IV., his arms being engraved on a stone at the top, and

the Roses of York on each side. The old gate with its wicket (p. 293),

of strong lattice-work, fastened with large nails at every crossing, is

still remaining, and opens into the castle-yard. Entering the area on

the right hand stands the chapel of St. Nicholas, with its enclosed

<g>Cemetery</g>. The present building was erected on the ruins of an ancient

chapel endowed about the time that Domesday Book was compiled. Over the

original chapel was an Armory, containing breast, back, and head pieces

for two or three troops of horse; but when defensive armour went out of

use, they were sold by order of Lord Cadogan, then governor. Over the

[Illustration]

door is carved G. II. 1738; and by a stone tablet at the east end, we

are informed that it was rebuilt during the government of Lord

Lymington. Farther towards the left are the ruins of some buildings,

said to be those in which

<g>King Charles</g> was confined; and a window is shown as that through which

he attempted to escape. Beyond these are the barracks and governor’s

house, (see page 294,) which contain several good rooms with coved

ceilings, and have been occasionally used for a military hospital; and

certainly, with regard to air and situation, a more salubrious station

could not have been selected. On a mount, raised considerably above the

other buildings, stands

<g>The Keep</g>, or Donjon.--Its figure (as seen p. 281, 283, and in the plan)

is an irregular polygon; the ascent to it is by seventy-two steps up the

side of the mount, and there are more within--each step is about nine

inches. This multangular tower bears evident marks of great antiquity:

some of the angles are strengthened by walling of hewn stone, which was

probably added under Edward IV. when the great gate was rebuilt. There

is a well within this keep, said to be three hundred feet deep; but it

has, like that in Arundel Castle, been partly filled up as useless and

dangerous. The battlements command a most extensive and beautiful

prospect, which is not confined to the island only, but takes in the New

Forest and Portsdown, with the sea intervening at several points, and

much picturesque scenery adjoining. At the south-east angle of the keep

stands the remains of another tower, (cut p. 285,) called

<g>Mountjoy’s Tower</g>, probably in honour of the nobleman of that name,

governor of Tourney in the time of Henry VIII. The walls of this tower

are in some places eighteen feet thick, and still command a beautiful

prospect, though less extensive than that from the keep. The ramparts

between these towers is about twenty feet high and eight feet thick,

including a parapet of two feet and a half, which was carried quite

round the castle. Under a small building in the castle-yard, adjoining

the governor’s house, is

<g>The Garrison Well</g>, from which the water is drawn by means of a large

windlass-wheel, turned by an ass. On a former occasion this duty was

performed

[Illustration]

during a period of more than forty years by the same animal, which, on

account of his services, was long one of the great curiosities of the

place. Down the well it is usual to drop a nail, or even a pin, which,

after a lapse of three seconds, produces a sound much greater than can

be well conceived by those who have not actually heard it. Another

experiment is often made in showing this well to strangers--namely, that

of letting down, by means of a pulley, a lighted lamp in a wooden basin,

which in descending occasions a loud noise, from the resistance of the

air, like a hollow wind or distant thunder; and as the lamp floats upon

the surface of the water, the compact masonry of the well--which is

partly cut through the rock--is distinctly visible. The water furnished

by the castle-well is remarkably pure and sparkling; and in instances

where it has been carried to India and back, it has still retained its

native purity.

<g>The Governor’s House</g> (see p. 294) contains several spacious apartments,

but now unfurnished, and only inhabited by the cicerone of the castle.

Like the additions above mentioned, it is of the Elizabethan epoch, and

externally has a rather picturesque appearance--its gables and tall

chimneys much resembling buildings of similar date in the Netherlands.

At the conclusion of the late war, the garrison consisted of a governor,

a lieutenant-governor, a captain, a master gunner, and three assistants.

The salary of the governor was twelve hundred pounds, and that of the

lieutenant-governor three hundred and sixty-five pounds per annum.

The castle has been on various occasions attacked by hostile fleets and

marauders, and as often to the loss and discomfiture of the assailants.

Of these attacks several instances are related by the chief historian of

the island--Sir Richard Worsley. The island, however, had continued

comparatively unmolested till the reign of Richard II., at which time,

says Stowe, “The French took that invincible isle, more by craft than

force.” In the preceding reign a landing having been effected by the

French, the inhabitants fled for refuge to Carisbrooke Castle, then

defended by Sir Hugh Tyrrill, who slew a great number of the assailants.

During the siege a party of the intruders coming down a narrow lane

towards the castle, fell into an ambuscade, and were mostly cut off. The

lane is still called Deadman’s Lane. Unable to subdue the castle, the

French withdrew; but, before they re-embarked, obliged the natives to

redeem their houses from being burnt by a heavy contribution. Again, in

the reign of Henry V., a body of French adventurers arrived on the

island, and boasted that they would keep their Christmas there. But as

about a thousand of them were driving cattle towards their ships, they

were suddenly attacked by the islanders, and obliged to leave not only

their plunder, but many of their men behind them. On another occasion,

when a French fleet had arrived, and demanded a subsidy, the islanders

gave them a hardy denial; but told them that, if they had a mind to try

their prowess, they should have full permission to land, with six hours

to refresh themselves; after which the natives would meet them in the

field. But the invitation was not accepted.--For other particulars, the

reader is referred to Worsley’s military history of the island.

[Illustration]

Thus far our description has been confined to times and personages when

Carisbrooke Castle was a fortress and palace; we now proceed to view it

as the prison of King Charles I.--an event which excites more real

interest than all the other circumstances in its history. At the time

when the great question between the King and his Parliament agitated the

whole country, Carisbrooke Castle was under the command of the Earl of

Portland. This nobleman stood high in the estimation of the inhabitants;

for, in a petition numerously signed and presented to Parliament in his

behalf, they expressly mention him as “their noble, much honoured, and

beloved captayne and governor.” He was nevertheless superseded, and

Colonel Brett appointed to the command. In the interim, the Countess of

Portland and her five children, accompanied by her husband’s brother and

sister, took refuge in the castle. The desire of holding it for the king

was by no means abandoned; and by her presence in the fortress she

hoped to exert some salutary influence over the minds of the populace,

whose attachment to her husband and his family had been so publicly

manifested on a late occasion. The proverbial fickleness of popular

favour, however, was soon to be verified; for, instigated by the mayor

of Newport, who represented that the island could not be safe so long as

Colonel Brett and the Countess of Portland remained in Carisbrooke

Castle, Parliament directed the captains of all ships stationed in the

river to assist in any measures which the said mayor might deem

necessary

[Illustration]

for securing the island. The Newport militia accordingly, with four

hundred naval auxiliaries, were marched up to the walls of the castle,

near <g>Elizabeth’s Tower</g>, which at this time, says Worsley, “had not three

days’ provision for its slender garrison.” The moment was critical; the

assailants had every advantage, while the prospect of famine or

surrender was all that could be expected by the besieged. The countess,

too, had a young family around her; and it may be imagined with what

feelings she beheld the planting of hostile ordnance, and anticipated

the probable effusion of kindred blood. There was little time for

reflection or hesitation. With the magnanimity of a Roman matron, she

made her appearance on the platform with a lighted match in her hand,

and there, raising her voice, so as to be distinctly heard by the mayor

and his armed followers, told them, with an undaunted air and

unfaltering accents, that unless honourable terms were granted to

herself and the garrison--whom they had so unaccountably summoned to

surrender--she would instantly, with her own hand, discharge the first

cannon, and defend the walls to the last extremity. Struck with her

dignified demeanour, and the determination to which she had just given

utterance, the mayor paused in his operations, and, having consulted

with his townsmen, all that the countess demanded was agreed to: she was

allowed to retain possession of her apartments in the castle; Colonel

Brett, his staff, and servants, who composed the garrison, were allowed

the freedom of the island, but were restricted from going to

Portsmouth, then held for the king by Goring, and the castle was

surrendered to Parliament. The countess, however, being represented as

still firmly attached to the king’s interest--consequently a dangerous

inmate in the castle--an order was issued, that within two days after

notice given, she should vacate both the castle and island. She did so,

and was indebted to the humanity of a few generous fishermen for the

means of conveying herself and family to Southampton.--See the political

history of this period.

Passing over the governorship of the Earl of Pembroke, who next held

command in this ancient fortress, we come to that of Colonel Hammond,

who had the unenviable distinction of being captain of the fortress

when, as already mentioned, it became the prison of the martyr-king.

Among the accounts handed down by Clarendon and other writers, who have

severally treated of King <g>Charles’s</g> confinement in this castle, there is

considerable discrepancy; but the following particulars, condensed from

other sources less accessible to general readers, seem best suited to

the scope and limits of the present work. After effecting his escape

from the palace of Hampton Court, in the manner described by Lord

Clarendon, Charles threw himself into the Isle of Wight, of which

Colonel Hammond was then governor. At first, and for a considerable time

after his arrival in the island, he appears to have been well lodged, to

have suffered neither humiliation nor outward restraint, but to have

experienced, on the part of the civil and military authorities, every

mark of respect and sympathy to which a good man and a great monarch,

struggling with adversity, was so justly entitled. He was permitted to

take exercise on horseback where he pleased, though his motions and

actions were no doubt carefully observed; and as the Parliament had made

him a grant at the rate of five thousand pounds per annum, he lived a

few months in the state <g>Apartments</g> of the castle--still shown as <g>King

Charles’s Rooms</g>--with much of the external forms and appearance of

royalty. This liberty, however, was soon abridged; and he was made to

feel that he was no longer a potentate to be heard and obeyed, but a

prisoner at the mercy of his subjects. His chaplains and faithful

attendants were first removed; and shortly afterwards his intercourse

was peremptorily restricted to certain persons, strangers to him, whom

the Parliament had appointed to be about his person. He was no longer

permitted to pass the gate of the castle, but mostly confined to his

apartments--now reduced to masses of rubbish and fragments of

ivy-covered walls. So solitary was his confinement during a great

portion of his time, “that as he was standing one day near the gate of

the castle, with Sir Philip Warwick, he pointed to a decrepit old man,

and said--‘That man is sent every morning to light my fire, and is the

best companion I have had for many months.’” The king, however,

submitted to all this severity with Christian patience and equanimity,

and endeavoured as much as possible to keep his mind employed. He had

always had serious impressions of religion,

[Illustration: KING CHARLES’S ROOMS.]

and these were neither shaken nor diminished, but strengthened and

confirmed, by the harassing restraint under which lie was now placed.

Devotion, meditation, and reading the scriptures, were his greatest

consolations. The few books which he had brought into the castle with

him, were chiefly on religious subjects, or of a serious cast. Among

these was Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity--a book which it is probable he

had studied with great attention, as it related much to the national

question so much agitated at that time, and in which no man was better

versed. In his slender catalogue, we find also two books of amusement,

Tasso’s “Jerusalem,” and Spenser’s “Faëry Queen.” His freedom, however,

was more and more abridged. He was an excellent horseman, and fond of

that exercise; but as this indulgence was denied, he spent two or three

hours every morning in walking on the castle ramparts. There he enjoyed

at least fresh air and an extensive prospect; although every object he

beheld--the “flocks straying carelessly on one side, and the ships

sailing freely on the other”--brought painfully to remembrance that

liberty and enjoyment of life of which he was so cruelly deprived. Thus

circumstanced, he became regardless of his dress; he allowed his beard

to grow, lost much of his cheerfulness; and in the expression of his

countenance betrayed the inward feelings of a patient but unhappy

captive.

During his imprisonment in this castle, three several attempts appear

to have been made, and chiefly by the gentlemen of the neighbourhood,

for his enlargement. These are severally mentioned by Clarendon, Gilpin,

and the writers of the Worsley Papers, from which it appears, that by a

correspondence privately settled with some gentlemen of the island, it

was agreed that the king should let himself down from

<g>A window</g> of his apartment; a swift horse with a guide was to wait for

[Illustration]

him at the bottom of the ramparts, while a vessel in the offing was to

be ready to convey him wherever he pleased. The chief difficulty was,

how the King should get through the iron bars of his window: but Charles

assured them that he had already made experiment of the passage, and had

every reason to believe that it was sufficiently large to admit his

person. All being ready--the night dark, the fortress quiet, and not a

whisper of suspicion of what was going on--everything promised a

successful issue. The signal was then made. Charles appeared at the

window, and seeing his friends in attendance, signified his readiness to

make the attempt at once. But what was his disappointment and the

mortification of his friends, who stood watching him with unspeakable

anxiety, when he found that, in his eagerness to lay hold of any

rational means of escape, he had miscalculated the width of the

aperture! Having protruded his head and shoulders, he could get no

further; and what was worse, he could not draw himself back. His friends

at the bottom of the wall heard him groan in distress, but durst neither

relieve him by word nor act, without alarming the sentinels, and thus

sacrificing their own lives. It was a moment of agonizing suspense. At

length, after repeated exertions, the king succeeded in extricating

himself from his perilous situation, and, waving his hand before the

light as a signal, retired mournfully to his couch, there to brood over

this fresh blow to his hopes, and the defeated loyalty of his friends.

In the next plan laid for his escape, from the same window, implements

having been secretly conveyed to him for that purpose, Charles

contrived, by night-work and with “wonderful trouble,” to saw the

massive iron bar asunder, which had proved the great obstacle in his

last attempt. But all these schemes were alike unsuccessful; and, until

the treaty of Newport--of which some interesting particulars are related

by Sir Richard Worsley--the king remained a close prisoner in the Castle

of Carisbrooke. He was then seized by the army, and carried a prisoner

to Hurst Castle. “Just at the break of day,” says Worsley--in an extract

from Colonel Cooke’s ‘Narrative’--“the king, hearing a loud knocking at

his outer door, sent the Duke of Richmond to learn the cause, who found

there a person who said his name was Mildmay--a brother of Sir Henry

Mildmay, and one of the servants placed by the Parliament about the

king’s person. On the duke’s inquiring his business, he answered that

there were several gentlemen from the army, who were very desirous to

speak with the king. The duke carried in this message; but the knocking

still increasing, the king gave orders for their admission. The doors

were no sooner opened, than those officers rushed into the bed-chamber

before the king could rise from his bed, and abruptly told him that they

had orders for his removal. ‘From whom?’ inquired the king. ‘From the

army,’ they replied. ‘And to what place?’ inquired the king. ‘To the

castle,’ said they. ‘To what castle?’ demanded the king. They again

answered, ‘To the castle.’--‘_The_ castle,’ said the king, ‘is no

castle;’ but added, that he was well enough prepared for any castle, and

therefore required them to name it; when, after a short whisper

together, they said ‘Hurst Castle.’--‘Indeed!’ replied the king, ‘you

could hardly have named a worse.’... The Duke of Richmond then ordered

the king’s breakfast to be hastened, presuming that there was little

provision made for him in that desolate fortress; but before his majesty

was well ready, the horses being come, they hurried him away, only

permitting the duke to attend him for about two miles, and then telling

him he must go no further. He therefore took a sad farewell of the king,

being scarcely permitted to kiss his hand. The king’s last words to the

duke were, ‘Remember me to my Lord Lindsay and Colonel Cooke; and

command Cooke from me, never to forget the passages of this night!’” He

then proceeded a prisoner to Hurst Castle, “which at that time,” says

Warwick, “contained only a few dog-lodgings for soldiers.”--In his way

to that dismal receptacle, he accidentally met Mr. Worsley, one of the

gentlemen who had so generously risked their lives for him in the

above-mentioned attempts to escape. Charles wrung his hand with

affection; and pulling the watch out of his pocket gave it to him, with

these words--“Keep this in remembrance of me: it is all my gratitude has

to give.” This watch is still preserved in the Worsley family; it is of

“silver, large and clumsy in its form; neatly ornamented in the case

with filagree work; but the movements are of very ordinary workmanship,

and are wound up with cat-gut.” On his arrival within its walls, the

“solitude and dreariness of the castle struck like a death-damp to the

heart of Charles!” Never till this moment had he thought himself in

danger: but now suspicions of secret assassination haunted his mind; and

as he looked around him, and compared Hurst Castle with that which he

had left--“Here,” said he to himself, “were the place for such a

deed!”--But the events which followed the king’s departure from the Isle

of Wight require no further notice in this place.

With these brief notices of Carisbrooke Castle, and the chief personages

and events with which it is connected, we close this portion of our

subject; and for many interesting facts and persons which our limits

will not permit us to detail, we refer, with every due acknowledgment,

to the Authorities here annexed--particularly to that of the late Sir

Richard Worsley.

[Illustration: <g>Ground Plan of Carisbrooke Castle.</g>

EXPLANATION OF <g>Plan</g>.--A A. Governor’s apartments; B. The parts of

it demolished; C. Well of the Garrison; D. The Gunner’s House; E.

Formerly a Guard House; F. Buildings demolished; G. Parish Church;

H. Coach House; I. Powder Magazine; K. Store House; L. Stables,

formerly Barracks; M. S.-East Platform; N. S.-West Ditto; O. Now a

Garden; P. Gateway, with two Round Towers for Prisons; Q. Out

Guard; R. Tower of Keep, with a Well 36 fathoms; S. Stone Wall,

with its Parapet; T. Place of Arms.

]

AUTHORITIES:--Order. Vital. De Gul. Primo.--Gul. Cimitensis, De

Ducib. Normannis, lib. vii. c. xv.--Dugd. Bar. and Monast.--Will.

Malmsb.--Matt. Paris.--Holinshed.--Polyd.

Virg.--Camden.--Froissart.--Sir Richard

Worsley.--Cooke.--Lane.--Clarendon, Hist. Rebel. vol. iii. Part

I.--Gilpin.--Monstrelet, vol. ii. 458.--Col. Cooke’s Narrative,

MSS. Harleian Collect.--Hist. of England, Civil and Milit.

Transact., p. 298; for the event here noticed, see Monstrelet, vol.

i. p. 32.--For Waltheof v. Ingulph. Selecta Monumento, p. 254.

Note.--See also Append. to Orig Extracts to this Volume.

[Illustration: NETLEY ABBEY.]

[Illustration: NETLEY ABBEY.]

“Now sunk, deserted, and with weeds o’ergrown,

Yon prostrate walls their harder fate bewail;

Low on the ground their topmost spires are thrown,

Once friendly marks to guide the wandering sail.

The ivy now with rude luxuriance bends

Its tangled foliage through the cloister’d space,

O’er the green windows’ mould’ring height ascends,

And fondly clasps it with a last embrace.”--KEATE.

Few monastic ruins are equally interesting with that of Netley Abbey;

yet we know of no monastery of the same importance of which the history

is so imperfectly known. Its position in a secluded spot, where the

ground it occupies might be spared from other purposes, and accidental

circumstances of different kinds, have so far preserved its walls from

destruction, that we may here still trace with accuracy the arrangement

and internal economy of those great religious establishments which, in

former ages, were to be seen in every part of our island.

The modern name of <g>Netley</g> appears itself to be only a corruption of the

more ancient one of <g>Letley</g>, <g>Lettely</g>, or <g>Latelie</g>, under which the place

is mentioned in Domesday Book, as being held by Richard Pungiant. We

learn from the same important document, that previously to the Norman

Conquest it had been held of King Edward by Alward, “who could go where

he would.”[227] It was probably from the circumstance of its having been

a manor belonging to Edward the Confessor, that it afterwards took the

name of “the Place of St. Edward,” or <g>Edwardestowe</g>. The derivation of

the name Letley is very uncertain; it was probably the remarkable taste

for punning on proper names, so characteristic of the writers and

scholars of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, which led them to call

it in Latin <g>De Laeto Loco</g>, or “the joyful place.”

The Abbey of Netley, or Letley, can boast of no great antiquity. It

appears certain that it was founded by King Henry III. in the year 1239;

although it has been supposed, on very weak grounds, that a religious

house of some kind had previously occupied its site. Henry’s original

charter is not preserved; but in a subsequent brief charter of

confirmation--dated

[Illustration]

March 7, 1251--he speaks of it as the church which he had

founded--“ecclesia quam nos fundavimus”--and gives or confirms to it the

lands of Lettelege, Hune, Welewe, Totinton, Gumelculne, Nordleg,

Deverell-Kingston, Waddon, Ayheleg, and Lacton, with all their

appurtenances, with the rents of Charleton, Southampton, and Suthwerk,

and a hundred acres of land in the manor of Schire, as well as the

advowson of the church of that manor. The lands in Schire appear to have

been given, or sold, to the Abbey in 1243: we have the confirmation of

the grant, by John de Warren, Earl of Surrey, dated on the day of the

Epiphany, 1252, but his original charter is also lost. The <g>Seals</g> of

Netley Abbey, of which three are known, describe it as the Abbey of St.

Mary of Edwardestowe. An impression of the seal of the abbot, attached

to a deed of the beginning of the reign of Edward III., represents a

figure of an abbot, surrounded by the inscription, S. ABBIS LOCI S’CI

EDWARDI. A seal of the abbey, of the same date, but much mutilated, has

the following fragments of an inscription:...... COMMUNE ABB.......

EDWARDI. DE. LETTE.... At the latter end of the last century, the matrix

of a seal of this house was discovered in the possession of a dealer in

curiosities in London:[228] the seal was very small, not much larger

than a modern shilling; on it was represented a person kneeling before

the Virgin and Child, and surrounded by the inscription,

S.BEATE.MARIE.DE.STOWIE.S’CI.EDWARD’. Mr. Brand imagined that the

kneeling figure was intended to represent King Edward the Confessor.

[Illustration]

The king placed in his foundation a small party of Cistercian monks,

then the most powerful and encroaching of all the religious orders. This

monastic colony was brought from the Abbey of Beaulieu, in the New

Forest. Antiquaries have succeeded, after much labour, in discovering

the names of eight Abbots of Netley; but as these stretch over a space

of three centuries, there can be no doubt that the list is incomplete.

The list of benefactors is equally imperfect: in addition to those

already mentioned, we only know with certainty the names of Edmund, Earl

of Cornwall, the second son of the founder, Robert de Vere, and Walter

de Burgh. The latter is stated to have given property in the county of

Lincoln, which he held of the king in capite by the service of

presenting to him a hat, lined with sindon, a kind of fine linen, and a

pair of gilt spurs.[229] It has been supposed that Richard Foxe, Bishop

of Winchester from 1502 to 1528, was one of the latest benefactors.

In point of revenue, Netley Abbey was one of the smaller monasteries. At

the time of its dissolution in 1538, the community consisted of an abbot

and twelve monks; and their possessions produced, according to Dugdale,

£100 1_s._ 8_d._, or, according to Speed, £160 2_s._ 9-1/4_d._ The site

was granted to Sir William Paulet, subsequently created Marquis of

Winchester, and one of the most remarkable statesmen of his time. It was

he who built the magnificent house at Basing, celebrated for the

obstinate siege which it sustained in the civil wars of the seventeenth

century. This nobleman died in 1572, at the great age of ninety-seven

years; and is said to have seen, before his death, a hundred and three

persons descended from him. He probably sold Netley to the Earl of

Hertford, in whose possession we find it in the beginning of the reign

of Elizabeth. There is a tradition, that this nobleman turned the ruined

abbey into a dwelling-house: and it is said that a part of the church

was converted into a kitchen. There are, however, at present, no traces

about the buildings to support this story. We might be led to suppose

that the house inhabited occasionally by the Earl of Hertford, and then

known by the name of Netley Castle, was rather the old fort below the

abbey, of which the rains still remain. In 1560, the Earl of Hertford

was here honoured by a visit from his sovereign, Queen Elizabeth.

According to the register of St. Michael’s parish, Southampton, “the

queen’s majesty’s grace came from the Castle of Netley to Southampton,

on the thirteenth day of August.” It is not improbable that, at this

time, many parts of the abbey were in a sufficient state of repair to be

fitted up for the reception of the queen’s attendants.

If, at a later period, the abbey was really used as a dwelling-house for

the Hertford family, they probably occupied the buildings, of which the

ruins are still considerable, on the west and south sides of the great

court. It is pretended that the church was then used as the family

chapel: and George Keate, the poet, informs us that he had seen, in an

interleaved almanack of the year 1665, which had belonged to a lady of

the same family, an entry stating, that the lady of Francis, Lord

Seymour--a younger branch of the Hertford family--lay in there of

Charles, Lord Seymour, second Baron of Troubridge, who was baptized in

the chapel. This part of the history of Netley Abbey is, however, very

obscure. It is said to have passed in the latter part of the seventeenth

century to the Earl of Huntingdon, who also resided there (according to

the tradition). In 1700 it belonged to Sir Bartlet Lucy, who sold the

materials of the church to a Mr. Taylor of Southampton; and from that

period it appears that we are to date the commencement of the

destruction of this once noble edifice.

The general style of this <g>Church</g> is that of the reign of Henry III., and

the present building is doubtlessly coeval with that monarch’s

foundation. It formed the northern side of the abbey, and was, as usual,

cruciform, having north and south transepts. The walls of the south

transept remain nearly perfect to the roof; the south wall of the church

also remains in nearly its whole elevation; but the north wall, which

contained the larger windows, is in a less perfect condition, and the

site of the north transept is only marked by a confused heap of rubbish,

overgrown with trees and brambles. The east and west ends of the church

are also standing. The north wall is supported externally by low

buttresses; and some traces of buildings, with the heaps of rubbish on

the ground, lead us to suppose that there was one or more smaller

external buildings, perhaps chapels, attached. The <g>West Window</g>, as well

as the great eastern window, appears to have been, when perfect and

filled with stained glass, extremely handsome and

[Illustration]

striking. The springings which supported the arches of the groined roof

are still visible; and until a comparatively recent period, part of the

roof itself remained standing, and among the ruins “various arms and

devices were to be traced.” Its ruins, mixed with those of the columns

which separated the aisles from the nave, still encumber the floor in a

picturesque manner, partly covered with shrubs and plants, and held

firmly together by the roots of lofty trees which have grown upon them.

The old lady who has taken her station at the entrance of the abbey, to

act as a guide to the interior, regards these shapeless heaps with

peculiar attachment: and she fails not to tell the visitor, in accents

of sorrowful indignation, of the recent depredations of a barbarian

workman who was sent to gather up the “loose stones,” and who did not

hesitate to lay his sacrilegious hands on portions of that which was not

loose. Vulgar tradition points out the largest of these masses as a

monument of divine retribution on the wretch whose avarice led him to

spoil the pious work of his forefathers; and it is believed that he lies

buried beneath the rubbish which his own hand had dragged down.

“Here too (belief could old tradition claim),

Where swells the rocky mound in shapeless heaps,

(His name now lost, his guilt divulged by fame,)

Some rude dismantler of this abbey sleeps.

Long, long in thought the patient earth he cursed,

That bore the fabric’s then unbroken spires;

Long wish’d the power to bid volcanoes burst,

Or call from heaven thought-executing fires.

‘Wide wave,’ he cried, ‘all bright with golden grain

The neighbouring vales, while this proud cumbrous mass

For many a barren furlong chills the plain,

And draws with idle zeal the crowds that pass.

‘No more the votaries of each time-shook pile,

As ruin’s heirs, shall call these shades their own;

For blazon’d arms explore the pageant aisle,

Or search dark registers of faithless stone.’

He spoke--resolved. The menaced arches frown’d,

The conscious walls in sudden conflict join’d,

Crush’d the pale wretch in one promiscuous wound,

And left this monument of wrath behind.”

The appearance of this church shows that its ultimate destruction has

been the work of accident, rather than of design; although a story of a

less doubtful character informs us, that we owe the preservation of the

building in its present condition to a retributary accident, resembling

that of the legend just mentioned. We have already stated that, about

the commencement of the last century, the materials of the abbey were

sold to a person of the name of Taylor, who resided at Southampton. His

friends, who looked with superstitious feelings on this venerable pile,

urged him not to conclude the bargain, and advised him to abstain from

being instrumental in the work of sacrilege; but he was deaf to their

entreaties. He had scarcely taken possession of his purchase, when in

his sleep he was visited by a fearful dream, in which it appeared to him

that the key-stone of one of the arches,[230] which was to be demolished

first, fell upon his head, and fractured his skull. Although troubled in

mind, he at first paid no attention to this dream; but when it was

repeated more than once, he ventured to disclose it to a friend. That

friend was Mr. Watts, a schoolmaster in Southampton, the father of the

celebrated Dr. Isaac Watts. He advised Taylor to desist from the

undertaking; but the avarice of the latter overcame all scruples or

fears, and he returned to the work of demolition. He had hardly begun,

when, in exerting himself to tear down a board, he loosened the

identical stone which had been represented to him in his dream, and

which in its fall struck him a violent blow on the head. He was carried

home, and his skull was found to be slightly fractured, but no

apprehensions were entertained of serious consequences. The surgeon,

however, in probing the wound, accidentally thrust his instrument into

the brain, and caused instant death. The fate of Taylor is said to have

acted as an effectual check to future depredations of a similar kind.

The arches of the <g>South Transept</g> of Netley Abbey Church are peculiarly

elegant and graceful; although, like those of the nave and choir, they

are devoid of the rich and diminutive ornamentation which characterizes

the architecture of a somewhat later period. Above the lower series of

arches, a passage or corridor runs round this part of the building,

which is approached by a small spiral staircase in the corner between

the transept and the choir. Below, delicately-wrought arches and

recesses in the wall mark the spots formerly occupied by sepulchral

monuments, raised probably over the bones of abbots or benefactors. The

ruins of this transept were cleared away from the floor a few years ago,

and it is said that coats-of-arms were observed on some of the stones.

The vaulted aisle on the east side of this transept is still in a

perfect state, by which, through a door in the south-east corner, the

monks entered from the sacristy. Another door, between the door just

mentioned and that which leads to the staircase, communicates with a

narrow yard behind the choir of the church. The entrance from the

principal court of the monastery is situated in the south-west corner of

the same transept.

It is probable that a tower rose above the intersection of the transepts

with the church, although no distinct traces of it now remain. Tradition

says that its lofty pinnacles formerly served as land-marks to the

sailors in their way up the Southampton-water. The whole length of the

church is about two hundred feet: its breadth is sixty feet. The space

between the extreme walls of the two transepts appears to have been

about a hundred and twenty feet.

The general arrangement of the abbey buildings bears a strong

resemblance to that of the older colleges in our Universities. The

entrance gateway, which faces the south, and is approached from the

beach, leads us into the principal court of the abbey, which, when

perfect, must have been

[Illustration]

a noble quadrangle. A fountain is said to have stood in the centre, from

which it has long been known by the name of the <g>Fountain Court</g>; but its

site is now occupied by a clump of picturesque trees: similar trees have

taken root in other parts of the court. The south and west sides were

formed by buildings, the dilapidated walls of which afford no clue to

the object to which they were formerly devoted, although they appear to

have been divided into apartments of different dimensions and forms,

some of which had fire-places. Portions of the walls, from the

circumstance of their being repaired with bricks, seem to indicate that

this part of the building was inhabited at no very distant period. But

modern brick-work is found in other parts of the abbey, and it was

perhaps added only for the purpose of securing the walls from falling.

The north side of the court is formed by the nave of the church; while

on the east side stands the southern transept, and adjoining to it the

principal buildings of the abbey.

This court is of large dimensions, and its walls are still erect. It was

the most public part of the abbey, being open equally to those who came

to offer up their prayer in the church, or who were anxious to unburden

their mind in the confessional; to the traveller who sought a temporary

shelter among the monks, or to the mendicant who lived upon their alms.

The solitary ruins speak to our hearts of other days, of which the

reality is long passed away: the house of prayer has been rifled and

dishonoured, the spacious halls now afford but a dubious shelter to the

pilgrim, and the almoner has ceased to dole out the daily portion to the

poor.

“No more shall Charity, with sparkling eyes

And smiles of welcome, wide unfold the door

Where Pity, listening still to Nature’s cries,

Befriends the wretched and relieves the poor.”

On Mondays, the Fountain Court presents a singular scene of gaiety. It

has long been the custom for people from Southampton, and the

neighbourhood to meet at the abbey on that day, and to hold a kind of

festival. Tea and other provisions are furnished by the inhabitants of a

neighbouring cottage, and this is followed by music and dancing.

On the eastern side of the quadrangle are four doorways. The door to the

south leads into a vaulted passage, which formed the communication

between the first court and the interior quadrangle of cloisters. To the

north of this passage are the apartments connected with the government

of the house and the service of the church: to the south, the hall,

kitchen, &c. Of the three exterior doors which lay to the north of the

entrance to the passage, the first is the entrance to the chapter-house;

the second, a small but very elegant arch, leads to the ancient

confessional; and the last communicates with the south transept of the

abbey church.

The <g>Confessional</g> forms a portion of a long rectangular apartment

adjacent to the church, of which the remaining and larger portion is

said to have been the sacristy, and from which the confessional was

separated by a stone wall, the lower part of which still remains.

Besides the entrance from the court, it has a communication with the

adjoining chapter-house. It was here that the penitent, or

should-be-penitent, laid open to the priest his secret failings, and was

instructed in the kind of reparation or the quantity of self-punishment

which was necessary to atone for them. In greater trespasses, or

[Illustration]

where the penitent himself desired it, he was led into the adjoining

chapter-house, and received the monastic discipline at the hands of the

monks, which consisted in a severe flogging on the bare skin--a

punishment which is now only preserved in the army and navy. Great

offenders were at times subjected to this penance. We learn from Matthew

Paris, that when the ferocious Falcasius de Breant, one of King John’s

foreign auxiliaries, had plundered the town and abbey of St. Albans, he

was warned in a dream that he would be pursued by the vengeance of

Heaven, unless he made some reparation to the monks. Falcasius, we are

told, went with some of his most active soldiers to the abbey, where

they suffered themselves to be stripped in the chapter-house; and,

having submitted to the discipline with becoming humility, they received

absolution for their offence. The practice of confession, and the giving

of absolution, were sources of great power to the Romish Church: they

were often made an instrument of benefiting the community, but they were

as frequently productive of great evils, and the facility of obtaining

absolution acted as an encouragement to crime. Among the numerous

stories told by the monks in illustration of the efficacy of confession,

it is related that a knight, who suspected one of his attendants of a

grave crime against his own person, determined to carry him before a

certain wizard, who was famous for laying open people’s hidden faults.

On their way, the criminal, aware of the object of their journey,

requested permission to visit for a few hours a neighbouring town. He

hastened to a religious house, confessed the crime of which he was

accused among his other sins to the priest, received penitence, and

submitted to a very rude application of the monastic discipline. When

they stood before the wizard, and the knight inquired what were the

secret failings of his attendant, the answer he received was--“This

morning, when you left home with him, I knew him well and all his works;

but now he only knows his works who has given him a bleeding back: I

know nothing further.” Confession and absolution were a source of profit

to the priest.

The <g>Sacristy</g> communicates by a door with the south transept of the

church. It is a dark and rather low vaulted room, where the consecrated

vessels and the articles of church furniture were deposited. The

sacristan, whose office is partly represented in the Protestant Church

by that of the humble sexton, was one of the most important personages

in the monastery after

[Illustration]

the abbot. He was the keeper of the books, vestments, and sacred

utensils belonging to the church; it was his duty to attend to the

altars in the church, and to collect and account for the offerings: he

was intrusted also with legacies and gifts for building, repairing, or

furnishing the church. The treasure was also frequently placed in his

keeping; and we read of unfaithful sacristans, who fled from their

abbeys, carrying with them the money which had been intrusted to their

charge.

The sacristy is lighted by two windows, under one larger arch, on the

east side. In the walls are several niches and recesses, which appear to

have been intended to receive some of the articles intrusted to the

sacristan’s care. It was perhaps the traditionary remembrance of the

treasures which were deposited in the sacristy, which led a countryman

in the neighbourhood to dream that there was money concealed in the

wall, beneath the most ornamental of these niches; who, to seek for this

imaginary object, came with a pickaxe, and broke away the bottom of the

niche in the manner in which it now appears. Treasure legends are

generally connected with ancient ruins, and this is not the only story

of the kind which has been located in the Abbey of Netley. On the

internal face of the south wall of the great quadrangle, near its

eastern extremity, is seen an irregular excavation. It is said that,

many years ago, a countryman dreamt of treasure buried in this wall; the

same dream was presented to his imagination three different times, and

he then proceeded with proper implements to the spot. After having

cleared away the wall with assiduous labour, his exertions were

rewarded, as tradition informs us, by the discovery of a ponderous chest

filled with riches, which he bore away in triumph. But the indiscreet

boastings of the finder soon reached the ears of the lord of the manor,

who seized upon the treasure for his own use.

The <g>Chapter-House</g> was the monastic council chamber, and as such, being

one of the most important rooms in the abbey, was also the most richly

decorated. Its delicately-groined roof is entirely destroyed, and trees

grow on its floor; but the elegantly-proportioned arches which adorned

its walls, and the clustered columns which support them, still bear

testimony to its former beauty. This apartment forms a regular square of

thirty-six feet. Each wall is divided into three arches, between which

sprung the ribs of the vaulted roof. Within the three arches on the east

side are the windows, which likewise are more ornamental than those of

the other apartments of the abbey. The extreme arch to the right on the

west wall forms the entrance from the great quadrangle. In the recesses

of the other arches are the remains of the stone seats on which the

monks placed themselves when assembled in chapter to deliberate on the

affairs of the monastery, or when they met to listen to the spiritual or

moral exhortations of their Superior. We have already stated that the

chapter-house was the place in which the discipline, or flogging, was

administered to the unruly brethren and other offenders. The Cistercian

monks are said to have been particularly addicted to the use of the

rod--

“Est ibi virga frequens, atque diæta gravis.”

The southern wall of the chapter-house divides it from the passage we

have already mentioned as forming the communication between the first

and second courts. This passage forms the separation between those

apartments of the abbey which were devoted to the spiritual concerns of

the brotherhood, and those which were set apart for their bodily

comforts. The chapter-house itself appears to have had no communication

with this passage; but on the opposite side is a door which leads us

into the Abbey <g>Parlour</g>, a room which answers to what is now called in

our colleges the Combination-Room.[231] This parlour, which possesses a

fire-place, was the place of social meeting for the inmates of the

abbey.

The next apartment in the south was the <g>Refectory</g>, hall, or dining-room,

and is the largest room in the abbey. Its windows, like those of all the

chambers in this line of buildings, look to the east. On the opposite

wall we can still trace a large arch, built up with masonry, under which

was perhaps a seat or side-table for the use of the attendants.

Although the monastic rule enjoins strict moderation and silence at

table, yet we know that, from an early period, the monks’ refectory was

no less a scene of mirth and festivity than the baronial hall. The

Cistercian monks in England appear to have been especially noted for

their attachment to good living. The satirists of the twelfth and

thirteenth centuries recount the number and delicacy of their dishes,

and the goodness of their wines. One of these writers, whose work (which

commonly goes under the name of Walter Mapes, the great enemy of the

Cistercian order) enjoyed a vast popularity in the thirteenth century,

describes thus their greediness in eating:--

“Quibus prandentibus voto præcipiti

Fauces celerrimæ, dentes solliciti,

Sepulcrum patens est guttur, par gurgiti

Spumoso stomachus, et rastris digiti.”

[Illustration]