4 id LlRCid € VESCf^/PT/Vt H /STOICAL ^ AND P/CTOR^/AL IMM**MMB H flM HIH » IMW Wil l lii M »l rt *»fl»*»M*fl M «a»*ltt» MIMMMlBliatMMIWaWlMaWIMiMaaaHIMM^ Cm k ' > im»fll«IMHmiHI*H*'PW Will MiWlflllWWJBwaaHiMiv.'ilh'WiftlWtMa iiiiiriwiiiliililiifiliririiMlMlilMiiWit^tfa^M^^^niinfnipinini^ttiriMWiiir in CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Gift of Samuel B. Bird '21 DATE DUE ^objJJrf-- MAY L 2 J Q i I r XMLkl&MJkL* Wftl hJM&^&&$m ■ ffiw TEOINU S Cornell University Library NA5461.B71 Abbeys and churches of England and Wales I I III I Mill Nil INI Ml M II 3 1924 008 744 991 -H ABBEYS AND CHURCHES OF England and Wales. DESCRIPTIVE, HISTORICAL, PICTORIAL. EDITED BY THE Rev. T. G. BOMEY, D.So., LLI)., F.R.S., rr.OFESSOK OF GEOLOGY I.N UNIVERSITY COI.LEOE LONDON. CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK § MELBOURNE. 18S7 'all eights reserved.] CONTENTS. rAOE WESTMINSTER ABBEY ... .1 The Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet, D.Se., LL.D., F.K.S. BRIDGWATER, WESTON ZOYLAND, AND TAUNTON. Memories of Sedgmoor . . 15 Haeold Lewis, B.A. SELBORNE AND EVERSLEY. Two Lovers oe Nature . 24 William Senioe. LOW; ST. JAMES'S, PICCADILLY; ST. STEPHEN'S, WALBROOK; ST. MARTIN'S- IN-THE-FIELDS. Specimens of Renaissance in London 32 The Key. Peofessoe Bonnet. SHERBORNE AND DORCHESTER, Two Forsaken Bishoprics . . .41 J. Pendeeel-Beodhttest. LUTTERWORTH. The Burial-Peace of an Early Reformer . 50 The Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet. HEXHAM. A Border Abbey . ... .58 Ciiaeles Clement Hodges. STRATFORD-ON-AVON. The Church of Suakespeaue . . . . 05 The Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet. ST. JAMES'S, WHITEHALL, AND THE SAVOY: Three Royal Chapels . 72 The Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet. THE SPIRES OF COVENTRY . . 78 The Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet. MUNKWEARMOUTH AND JARROW. The Venerable Bede 84 The Rev. G. F. Bkowne, B.D. STOKE POGES. The "Country Churchyard " 01 J. Pendueel-Beodiiuest. RYE AND WINCHELSEA. Two Old Seaports ... 99 The Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet. ST. BARTHOLOMEWS, SMITHFIELD, AND ST. SAVIOUR'S, SOUTHWARK. Old London Churches ............... 10G Thomas Aechee. HOLY TRINITY, COLCHESTER; BARNACK ; EARLS BARTON ; ST. BENET'S, CAM- BRIDGE; AND ST. MICHAEL'S, OXFORD. Remnants of " Saxon " Churches . .115 Tfn<: Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet. ST. MARY REDCLTFFE: A Life's Failure ... . . 122 Hakold Lewis. ST. MARY'S, WARWICK. Tombs of the Beauciiamps . . . .129 The Rev. Peofessoe Bonnet. CHRISTCHURCH AND ROMSEY. Hampshire Abbeys. ... .136 William Senioe. vi ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. PACE THE CHURCHES OF LEICESTER. The Last Hours of Wolsey 144 J. PENDEREL-BliODHURST. ST. MARTIN'S, CANTERBURY; ST. MICHAEL'S, VERULAM ; ST. MARY - IN - CASTRO, DOVER. Memories of British Churches 152 Tire Rev. Professor Bonney. GRASMERE AND CROSTHWAITE. The Lake Poets 158 Godfeey Wordsworth Turner. THE PRIORY CHURCH OF ST. JOHN, BRECON 16G Edwin Poole. TEMPLE CHURCH, LONDON; ST. SEPULCHRE'S, CAMBRIDGE AND NORTHAMP- TON; LITTLE MAPLESTEAD, ESSEX. Remembrances of the Holy Sepulchre . 173 The Key. Professor Bonney. BEACONSFIELD AND HUGHENDEN. Two Quiet Resting-Places ... .181 J. Penderel-Brodiiurst. ELSTOYV. A Sturdy Puritan 189 The Rev. Professor Bonney, YARMOUTH AND HULL. Cheat Parish Churches . 19.', The Rev. J. .T. Raven, Ti.I). ABBEY DORK, KILPECK, AND HEYSHAM. Some Quaint Churches . . 203 The Rev. Professor Bonney - . ST. ANDREW'S, HOLBORN. A Church of Great Preachers . . .210 Thojias Archer. WALTLIAM ABBEY AND BATTLE CHURCH Memories of Harold . . 21S The Rev. Pkofessor Bonney. EYAM. Between the Living and the Dead ....... . . 225 Godfrey "Wordsworth Turner. SHREWSBURY". Churches of the Town and of Battlefield .... . 232 The Rev. Professor Bonney. GREAT HAMPDEN. A Patriot's Grave 239 J. A. J. HOUSDEN. HARROW AND NEWSTEAD. Memories of Byron . 247 William Senior. STAMFORD AND HATFIELD. The Graves of the Cecils 255 The Rev. Professor Bonney. GREAT MALVERN AND TEWKESBURY. Hill Side and River Brink .... 201 The Rev. I. Gregory Smith, Hon. LL.D. , Prebendary of Hereford Cathedral. DUNSTER AND ARUNDEL. Serving Two Masters 207 The Rev. Professor Bonney. CHISWICK AND KEW. Two Artists' Graves . 271 Thomas Archer. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Frontispiece ..... Westminster Abbey. Westminster Abbey : — Exterior of Henry the Seventh's Chapel— The Coronation Chair — The North Transept — The South Transept — Shrine of Edward the Confessor — The Choir— Interior of Henry the Seventh's Chapel — Wren's Design for the Completion of the Abbey— Dean Stanley — The Chapel of the Pyx Bridgwater : — The Exterior — The Interior — The Corporation Pews. Taunton :— The Exterior— The Interior Weston Zoyland: — The Interior — Ancient Tomb ....... Selboene : — The Church and Vicarage. Eveesley: — The Exterior — Charles Kingsley — Kiugsley's Grave Bow: — The Tower. St. James's, Piccadilly: — The Vestry— The Interior. St. Stephen's, "vValbeook : — Th Interior. St. Maetin's-in-the-Fields : — The Old Church — The Present Church, from Trafalgar Squar Shebboene : — The Choir. Doeciiestee: — The Abbey, from Little Wittenham— The Choir— The South Aisl —The Chancel ............ L-ctteewoeth :— The Church and Churchyard— The Bridge over the Swift— The Wielif. Pulpit— Wielif— Wiclif's Chair ............ Hexham : — The Exterior — The Transept and Dormitory ...... Steatford-on-Avon : — The Tower, from the River — The Chancel — House of Shakespeare's Birth —Boom in which Shakespeare was born — Shakespeare ........ Chapel Boyal, Whitehall: — From Parliament Street. Chapel Boyal, Savoy" : — The Interior Coventey : — The Spires of Coventry. St. Michael's: — Interior. Holy Trinity: — The Spire — The Pulpit Monkweaemouth : — The Exterior. Jarrow: — The Tower — The Chancel ..... Stoke Pooes: — The Church and Churchyard — The South Porch — Monuments in the Chancel — Gray's Monu- ment — Gray ......... ... Bye: — From the Ferry — The Pendulum. AVinchelsea : — The Porch — The Church and Churchyard St. Bartholomew's, Smithfield : — The Tower — Before the Bestoration — After the Restoration. St. Saviour's Southwark : — The Exterior .......... Holy Teinity, Colchester: — The Exterior — The West Door. The Tower of St. Michael's, Oxford, of Babnack, and of Earls Baeton. St. Benet's, Cambridge : — Arch in the Tower St. Maey Bedcliffe : — The Exterior — The Interior — Chatterton — The Beredos .... St. Mary's, Warwick: — The Beauchamp Chapel — Distant View — The Tower .... ChristchuRCH : — From the Biver — The Ringing Boom. Bomsey — The Exterior .... Leicester:— Ruins of Leicester Abbey. St. Nicholas': — The Exterior. St. Maeoaret's : — The Porch Sr. Mary's : — The Tower — Wolsey ......... St. Martin's, Canterbury : — The Exterior. St. Maey-in-Castro, Dovee :— The Pharos — The Interior St. MicnAEL's, Verulam : — The Exterior ........ Grasmere : — The Exterior. Samuel Taylor Coleridge — William Wordsworth. Crostiiwaite :— The Exterior — Southey's Monument ........... The Peioey Church of St. John, Brecon : — The Exterior ...... 1—14 15 -23 21 — 31 32—10 41—19 50 -57 58- -64 65- -71 72- -77 78- -S3 84 -90 91- -98 99- -105 106- 114 115— -121 122- -12S 129- -13.3 136- -143 141—151 152—137 158—165 169 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. Temple Church, London: — TLc Rotunda — Tombs of Knights. St. Sepulchre's, Cambeidue : - The Rotunda St. Sepulchre's, Noethampton : — The Interior. Little Maplestead : — The Exterior . Beaconspielii : — Tlio Church and "Waller's Monument — Waller— Burke. Huohesden: — The Church, from th< Lark— The Beaoonsfield Tablet ......... Elstow : — The Exterior — Banyan's Cottage — Banyan — The North Door ..... Yarmouth :— The Exterior— The inteiior— The Sarah Martin Window. Hull :— The West Front— Arcade anc Screen ............. Alley Dole :— The Tourer and South Transept— The Choir and Screen. Ktlpeck :— The Chancel and th South Door. Heysham : — The Exterior ........ St. Andrew's, JFIoleoen : — The Exterior — Sacheverell, Hacket, and Stillingfleet — The Interior Waliiiam Alley:— The Cross— From the South-east— The Nave, the Crypt, the Lady Chapel. Gateway of Battle Alley ............ Eyam :— The Cross— The Church .......... Shrewsbury: — The Aebey Cjiuecii. St. Mary's: — The Exterior — The Font. Battlefield: — The Exterior Cheat Hampden: — Tn the Churchyard — Tin- Church and Hampden House — Avenue leading to Hampden House — Hampden's Monument ... ... . Harrow : — The Spire and the Porch — View from the Churchyard. Newstead : — The Exterior . Hatfield :— The Church— The Cecil Tombs. Stamford: The Lord Treasurer's Tomh . Cheat Malvern : — Ivy-Sear Rock — The Priory Church— The Choir— The Priory Gateway— Miserere Tewkesbury: The West Front ...... Dunstee : — Church and Castle — Arundel Castle ..... Chiswick : — Hogarth— The Church and Hogarth's Tomh. Kkw:— The Exterior and Gainsborough's Tomb — Gainsborough ... . . TAHES 173 — 180 181 — 183 180—194 105—202 203—200 210—217 218—224 225—231 232—238 239—246 217—254 255—260 201—200 207—273 .271 — 280 ire are Indebted for the use of Pholooraphs—on p. IS, to Mr. S. A. Waller, St. Margarets Street, Cavendish Square; on pp. CS, 104, IT, 170, SOS, 228, to Messrs. roulton <& Son, Lee; on p. 112, to Mr. F. G. 0. Stuart, Southampton; on pp. SO, 52, 181, 185, 188, to Messrs. Tamil & Co. Oxford; on p. 125 to Messrs. G. W. Wilson a Co., Aberdeen; on pp. 40, 41, 165, to Messrs. Frith ■(■ Co., Relgate; on pp. 129, 104, to Messrs. J. Valentine ,t Sons, Dundee; on pp. 73, 257, to Mesirs. Bedford, Lemere Js Co.; an p. .'.'.5 to Mr. .1. Seeley, Richmond Rill; on p. 85 to Mr. P. Stabler, Sunderland; on p. 29 to Messrs. Elliott & Fry; on p. 177 to Messrs. Broirn A Sons, Halstcad; on p. SB to Mr. J. F. Knights, North Brixton; on p. 69 m Mr, C. C. Hodges; on p. 169 to Mr. C. S. Allen, Tenby; on pp. 28, 21), to Mr. F. M. Good, Winchfleld; on p. 269 to 31 r. If. It. hah; WWiton; an p. 252 to Meisrs. n. Allen -I Sins, Limited, Nottingham; on p. 45 to .Ifrssrt:. Bills and Sannders, Oxford; on p. 89 to Mescrs. Downey S .Sons, South Shields; and on p. 284 la Mr. C. Ecnwood, Chirwicli, INTRODUCTION. The cathedrals of Britain must yield the palm, though not without a contest, to their rivals on the adjacent mainland of Europe. But when we come to examine the parish churches, the advantage, so far as my experience goes, is decidedly in favour of our own country. Almost any district here shows a larger proportion of picturesque ami interesting churches, especially in the rural parishes, than a corresponding district of Europe. Doubtless many of them have suffered structurally and in detail. In the sixteenth century the harpies of the Court plun- dered and destroyed; in the seventeenth century the Puritans, blindly iconoclastic, hacked and smashed; in the eighteenth century a careless and ignorant people put brick for stone, and did its best to make all square and cold and hare ; while in the nineteenth century the little learning of the restorer lias proved a dangerous thing, and zeal without discretion lias dene the usual mischief. Still, it' ignorant neglect, or even dislike, of Art as a. handmaid to Religion lias cost ;rs much in the past, it has secured us far more than it has lost. In those parts of Europe where the Church of home was able successfully to resist the movement for reform and to retain her predominance, we are struck by the comparative! v modern aspect of so many of the village churches. The work of enlargement or rebuilding went on alter the middle of the sixteenth century, just as it had done before, and was practically unchecked till the great convulsion of the French Revolution and the subsequent wars. But the style of archi- tecture was totally changed. The influence of the classic Renaissance had made itself felt in every corner of the land. The so-called Gothic architecture had run — as it appears — through its appointed cycle, and with the florid Flamboyant in France, as with the mechanically ornate Tudor in Britain, had exhausted its store of vital energy and admitted of no farther development. Men could onlv have coined the old, and this, in the proud sense of life still young and progress still possible, they did not care to do. The Renaissance attracted by its novelty and untried possibilities. True, it also was only a revival, a reproduc- tion rather than an invention, but it had been so long disused that the work afforded a sense of discovery and freshness, and men in adapting the architecture of Imperial Rome to the needs of the sixteenth century not only felt the fascination of the antiquary's research, but also enjoyed some little taste of the pleasure of creation. It was a far cry to the epoch of Hadrian, or even of Diocletian, but the days which had witnessed the completion of many of h x ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. the great cathedrals of France were as near to them as are tlio.se of Queen Anne to ourselves. Thus, from a variety of causes, church building "went on vigorously m those countries after it had been greatly -indeed, for a time, almost wholly — arrested in England. The mediaeval structures were swept away with as little ruth as an architect of the Perpendicular period had shown to the work of his Norman predecessors. But the new work was no longer Gothic. Hence, it any of the old remained, the result was a painful incongruity. Besides, the Renaissance style, whatever may be its merits for palaces and cathedrals, does not readily adapt itself to simple mansions and village churches. It seems the natural ally of the long purse and the long pedigree; it cannot condescend to the wants of the poor and lowly. Thus, on the neighbouring continent there is an abundance of those plain and even mean structures which were now and then inflicted on this country during the last century, when a parish church was perforce rebuilt because it was actually tumbling down. Moreover, the style of the Renaissance if one may use a single term lor a rather complex idea — itself underwent a decline. The followers of Michael Angelo, of Palladio, and of Bernini failed to imitate the excellences, while they asreravated the faults, of their masters. Exaggeration is mistaken for sublimity: ornamentation is divorced from construction ; there is neither repose nor dignity nor even significance about the design; — till we reach the depth of degradation in what is sometimes called the "Jesuit" style of art. Thus, the parish churches of this period, if inexpensive, are paltry ; if costly, are meretricious. In mediaeval times the village church, like the country maiden, attracted by a simple modesty and homely beauty; now it oscillated between the dirty drudge and the painted Jezebel. Thus, though not a few precious relics of olden time remain, the country churches of France, Germany, and Italy are less frequently interesting than our own. In this land the suppression of the monasteries left the nation in pos- session of more churches than it required, all in an excellent state of repair; for hardly any period had been more prolific in church building and church restoration than the century which preceded the final crash. So little need was there for some of the glorious structures which were then left void, that the jackals who shared the spoil which the royal plunderer had left, found an excuse for pulling down not a, few, or, as noticed in these pages, grievously mutilating others. Hence — in part because there was no need, in part owing to the grow- ing Puritan feeling — then.; was but little, church building in England during the interval between the Reformation and the Civil War. Some monuments, a few chapels or other structures of slight importance, are the sole ecclesiastical records of the aire which produced such noble structures as Hatfield and Burgllley, as INTRODUCTION. Hardwick and Longleat. However open to strict criticism may be the blended work of the Elizabethan and Jacobean period, I confess to wishing that wo had a few fairly important churches in this stylo, that wo might see how far it is applicable to ecclesiastical purposes. After the Restoration church building became more frequent, though gener- ally in towns rather than in the rural districts. The Great Fire of London, wherein so many of the City churches perished, gave a magnificent opportunity to the architects of that day, and, fortunately, for the hour the man was found. Sir Christopher Wren has left his mark indelibly upon the metropolis, and the hand of the great master or of his imitators may be occasionally seen m other parts of England. Wren had little sympathy with Gothic art, and was most successful when least attentive to its suggestions. Moreover, like most archi- tects of the Renaissance, he evidently preferred to follow Roman rather than Grecian guides. In this he did well, for, though the work of the latter is, in its way, unrivalled in beauty, the style is unfitted for a northern climate, and the problem of giving light to the interior is insoluble. Altered circum- stances, however, forced tin; practical Roman designer to grapple with this dif'li- culty, and thus his work invited imitation by English architects in an English climate. It is easy to point out the defects of the style, not really insuper- able, though commonly too prominent; such as the severance of ornamentation from construction (the successful union id' which is one of tin.' greatest glories of Gothic architecture), the engaged columns, the confused facades, and the false suggestiveness of design. It is easy to criticise the City churches of Wren and his followers. It must lie confessed that not seldom the exteriors are bald and unsatisfactory, sometimes almost hideous; hut it cannot be denied that the interiors often are remarkably harmonious, and commonly are admirably adapted to their purpose. It is the fashion, or till lately was the fashion, to despise the work of this period; fait if reasonable service is better than super- stitious veneration; if, to members of a Reformed Church, to sec and to hear are primary requisites in their place of assembly, then Wren and his school may chum to have succeeded where tin.' mediaeval revivalists of later days have signally failed. Moreover, as we shall presently show, his school really adopted as their models the structures of the earlier and purer days of ( hristianity. rather than of those when it was darkened by parasitic accretions and corrupted by noxious superstitions. There was, also, even m the style itself, a. certain his- torical continuity, for the Romanesque, in its varieties, is the lineal descendant of the architecture of the later Roman Empire. Wo cannot pass a sweeping condemnation on the churches which Wren has left us in the vallev of the Thames without including in it such structures as the basilicas of San Clemente and St. Maria Maffgiore — to mention no others — which still remain on the banks xii ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. of the THirr. Tliere is no virtue inherent in the cruciform plan for a church. It has its undoubted merits for artistic purposes, but it has its drawbacks. But to talk as it' the basilica were the invention of an age of lukewarm Protestantism, or its apsidal sacrarium unfitted for Christian worship, is to ignore history and to outrage common sense. The earliest British churches were probably on the basilica plan, but of move humble design, of inferior execution. With this time, however, no perfect link remains to us. The heathen English invaders were ruthless destroyers, espe- cially of the churches of the conquered people. Perhaps the shell of Brixworth Church, in Northamptonshire, may be a Roman building. Portions of Unman masonry survive here and there incorporated into newer work, as at St. Marys in Dover Castle, at St. Martin's, Canterbury, possibly at St. Michael's, Verulam, and in a few other instances. These churches — or rather those with which they are in structural continuity — were restored to use at the conversion of England by Augustine, while in other eases Roman materials were employed in later work, thus affording us a connection with the relies of British Christianity. Many of the churches reared during the following two or three centuries were of wood, but these, of course, have long since perished; the " stave-kirker of Norway, and possibly the wooden church of Greensted in Essex, may be re- garded as their lineal descendants. But the earlier stone churches appear to have still adhered closely to the> basilica model — as in the case of the first cathedral of Christ Church at Canterbury — though before long the plan was modified, and it approached nearer to the later type. The churches of Jarrow and Monkwearmouth, built rather before the end of the seventh century, were erected, as we are told by Bede, "on the Roman model," and remnants of churches dating between the eighth century and the Norman Conquest are still not unfrequent. Of these, the most perfect is the recovered church of Bradford-on-Avon, which is assigned to the earlier years of the eighth century ; this has a comparatively large chanced and a southern porch. Altogether about one hundred and twenty churches in England, still in use, are said to contain important remnants of buildings which were erected prior to the Norman I lonquest, or, if in actual date a little later than it, were nevertheless survivals of the old school. Of these — our oldest churches with any approach to perfectness — some instances are given in the present volume. But even before the death of Edward the Confessor, the frequent intercourse with Normandy led to the occasional employment of its architects for the more important works in this country) as in the case of his abbey at Westminster, and probably that built by Harold at Waltharn. After the Conquest, began a great epoch of church building. The Norman prelates and priests were offended by the mean and rude architecture of the structures raised by the ill-taught hands of English craftsmen, and thus a fairly (dean sweep INTRODUCTION. xiii was made of the earlier and, it must be admitted, architecturally very inferior buildings. But before another century had elapsed, not a few of these early Norman churches were replaced by more elaborate buildings. These rapid changes were not seldom compulsory, for it must be admitted that the earlier Norman architects were faulty masons, and some of their workmanship was hardly better than that of a nineteenth century jerry-builder. Early Norman foundations had a way of settling, and central towers seemed to tumble down almost as a matter of course; so that rather late work in this style is far commoner than that which is early. The spirit which produced the crusades seems also to have had its influence on church building, and work dating from the latter part of the twelfth century is common; and very beautiful work it is, combining the grandeur of the Norman with the grace of the Early English. From this time, for rather more than three centuries, the building or reconstruction of churches went on apace. The architects seem to have had little respect for the work of their predecessors, and swept it away without scruple. It must, indeed, be ad- mitted that the Norman style, like its Roman ancestor, seems to demand a. building on a large scale m order to obtain a complete success, while the Earlv English and the Decorated can charm in the smallest chapel hardly less than in the grandest cathedral. These styles followed one another by gradual aval natural development, each lasting nearly a century. Then, or rather before the end of the fourteenth century, the style called Perpendicular came into favour. As to its merits opinions will continue to differ. To myself it always seems over- mechanical and wanting in poetry of conception, but undoubtedly its architects have given us some statelv and well-lighted churches, and some superb towers, and it seems peculiarly well adapted for domestic buildings. But as destroyers the)' were even more reckless than their predecessors, because they not only re- built, but also marred by knocking about older work in order to insert their large and often uninteresting windows. Faith was becoming weak, and the flock was getting restive. Its defenders sought to dazzle by splendour and overawe by stately ceremonial. The appeal to the senses, instead of to the reason and the affections, failed, as it is ever doomed to fail, because it is of man, not of God. Then came the crash, with the results already mentioned. The Reformation injured chiefly the grander buildings; tin 1 Rebellion left its mark impartially on all, though on details rather than on structures. To tins followed a period of slower but almost worse destruction. The new churches of the eighteenth century are seldom respectable ; the older fabrics were generally treated with a neglect which seems inconceivable; they were knocked about in the most ruthless manner, blocked up with pews and galleries, encrusted with hideous monuments, bedaubed with plaster and whitewash. 'The absence of all sense of picturesque beauty, of all interest in antiquity, which characterised the Hanoverian period, is almost xiv ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. inconceivable to our generation — though it is true the wind of fashion shows sonic signs of backing to that quarter, for children are thrust into the hideous garments worn by their predecessors more than a hundred years ago, and the eighteenth century garb finds much favour with the artists of illustrated newspapers and the designers of mural advertisements. With the nineteenth century some interest in Gothic architecture revived. The seed sown, though with timid hand and uncertain purpose, in the later part of the preceding century, was fostered into vigorous life by the Church revival which began to attract notice about the commencement of the reign of the present Queen. The first outward and visible signs of the Gothic revival have certainly naught but an historical interest, for their ogliness is something portentous. But better results were soon produced as the fruit of the awaken- ing interest in mediaeval work, and now- for years every style but Gothic has been an abomination to the Anglican Churchman. The Victorian era lias been one of church restoration and church building. The former has been anything but an unmixed blessing. It has indeed preserved to us much winch was perishing; it has removed "whitewash and paint, and swept away numerous incrustations and hideous disfigurements. Jhit in too many cases restoration has been little better than destruction. Architects with little knowledge, and parish priests without discretion, have worked their will upon our churches — replacing the old work by modern imitations — and have often deprived them of much of their individuality, and almost all their historical interest. It is hardly possible to speak too severely of the reckless manner in which the sepulchral memorials erected during the latter part of the seventeenth and the eighteenth century have commonly keen treated. 'True, they were occasionally ugly in them- selves; they were not seldom no ornament to the walk; they sometimes dis- figured the columns; and the large flat slabs were to some an unpleasing interruption to the regularity of the pavement. But they formed a part of the history of the parish, and so of the nation. They indicated the resting-places of the men who had taken their share, humble though it might sometimes be, in the making of England. Now, crammed into belfry chambers or other hiding-places, separated from the actual graves of those whom they commemorate, they have lost more than half their interest; sometimes they have even been wantonly broken up and destroyed. Who, the restorer will defend himself by asking, cares to read of the virtues of a Brown, the opulence of a Jones, or the accomplishments of a Robinson, dead a century since? Granted that they were not even "mute, inglorious Miltons," or "Cromwells guiltless of their country's blood," still they are representatives of the Commonwealth of England, and we have no right to pass a. sponge over that part of our national history when political power began to descend from a titular aristocracy to the yeoman and the merchant. Neither INTRODUCTION. can we foretell that a reversionary interest may not yet be imparted to the tombs <>t ancestors by more illustrious descendants. Poets and philosophers, statesmen and warriors, have arisen, and will continue to arise, from the ranks of the tradesmen, the tenant-farmers, and the smaller landed gentry, so that the memorials of their humbler ancestors may have an interest in the time to come. Even when the matter is regarded in an aesthetic light, I have mv doubts whether the bare wall of rough stone (probably intended from the first to be plastered) is the better for being unrelieved by mural tablets, and whether a neat chequered pavement of black and red tiles, not unlike that of a back kitchen, is preferable to the picturesque irregularity of the old quarries, interrupted by the great stone slabs which covered the actual graves. In the present volume we have attempted to give some idea of the manifold interest of our abbeys and churches. While it is not intended as an archi- tectural treatise, care has been taken to give some idea of the great variety in date, in design, and in execution which these buildings afford. No doubt the book could without difficulty have been made more complete in this respect, but illustrated treatises on architecture, which deal with the most typical ex- amples and the variations exhibited by each style in the different parts of the kingdom — a subject of great interest in itself— are readilv accessible. We have inclined rather to the associations which gather round the buildings, and to their inseparable alliance with the history of the country. We have, it is true, our Santa Croce at Westminster and our Pantheon at St. Paul's, Tint to many a man the quiet churchyard near the ancestral home has a stronger attraction for the last resting-place when life's turmoil is ended; and of Great Britain, more than of any other country, it may be said that the sepulchres of her famous men are scattered broadcast over the land. Here are the graves of a whole line of illustrious men, like the (Veils or the Beauchamps ; there is the resting-place of one who was like a solitary star, a Shakespeare or a Burke. Some churches have been made famous by the living rather than the dead; their pulpits have been occupied by men illustrious for their eloquence, their literary power, or their scientific knowledge, by men whose names will live as long as England has a literature and our nation a history. Some churches are rich in memories of kings; some are associated with the busy tide of life; some are attractive for their very solitude, and instinct with thoughts of contemplative rest. The examples given in the following pages are but grains from a heap ; they have been culled somewhat at random, like wild flowers from the meadow, but it is hoped that tins volume may he sufficiently successful to warrant the publication of another, tor winch more than ample materials exist. One (dass of churches has alone been excluded — those of the modern Gothic revival. At the present day these obviously have not yet acquired any ABBEYS AND CHURCH US. historic interest, and architecturally speaking they never can have any. They are in no sense a genuine product of the era. They are copies of the work of a dead past, not the natural outgrowth of the requirements and the feeling of a living present. Their plan sometimes, their ornamentation often, is suggestive of beliefs which we have abandoned as superstitious, and of ideas at which our reason revolts. In many cases also they show that the architect cannot rightly frame the shibboleth which he has attempted to learn; thus thev are like Latin verses, which at worst exhibit the grammatical errors and the misapplied " tags" of the schoolboy, and at Lest do not rise above the frigid correctness and labori- ous dulness of the prize poems written by the average university scholar. We plume ourselves on the advances which our age has made in science — and they are great indeed. But it is rare that, except in landscape, can- foremost painters can cope with the greatest men of olden time. One piece of sculpture dating from the best days of Greek art is worth a whole gallery of modern work; and in architecture we cannot even claim to possess a style, but copy the works of our forefathers, often as unintelligently as would a Chinese. Must Ave conclude that, as has happened in the past to many a form of lite, the plant of archi- tecture has borne all its possible fruits, and passed through every possible cycle of development; that henceforth we can hut reproduce the works of our forefathers, and must he content with a frigid correctness, and thankful for the avoidance of unintelligent error'.- 1 One trusts that this may not lie so, but at present architecture, like the Latin of Cicero and the Greek of Demosthenes, seems to he only a dead language, which men may indeed learn to speak correctly, hut in which they cannot think freely. r p (; Bonney Abbeys and Churches ENGLAND AND WALES. EXTERIOR OF HENRY THE SEVENTH S CHAPEL. WEST M IN8T E R A B B E Y. IE Abbey of Westminster, to use the words of the late Dean Stanley, "is not only Eheims Cathedral and St. Denys both in one, but is also what the Pantheon was intended to be to France, -what the Valhalla is to Germany, what Santa Croce is to Italy." Sisle, viator, calcas ht't'oa, is nowhere so apt as within its walls. Every stone within the building seems incorporated the coronation into the fabric of our national history, every slab of its pavements CHAIR. J L B 2 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Westminster. Abbey. tells of those who have played their part, often for good, sometimes for ill, in the making of England. The date of the first foundation of Westminster Abbey is uncertain. Its earlier history is inextricably entangled with legend. At any rate, before the Romans came — when a British village marked the future site of London city — there was higher up, on the left hunk of the Thames, an island or peninsula among the marshes, formed by the confluence of two tributary brooks with the main river. We nnn" well doubt the tale which states that a Roman temple stood on the site of St. Peter's Abbey, although a. stone sarcophagus of that age has been dug up near the north buttresses. Time passed; the Romans left, the English came. The land became more populous, and this spot — the isle of Thorns, as it was called — attracted attention. Being raised slightly above the surrounding fen, and supplied by springs — of which one was till lately indicated by "Dean's Yard Pump" — it came to be selected as a settlement, possibly monastic from the first. The grave of Sebert, king early in the' seventh century, is still shown in the Abbey, and he is claimed as its first founder; but, at any rate, a community of Benedictine monks was established here in the reign of Edgar. It is, however, to Edward (commonly called the Confessor) that we must look as the originator of the greatness of St. Peter's Church at Westminster. Before coining to the throne he had vowed a pilgrimage to Rome, but had been absolved from this obligation by the Pope on condition of establishing a. monastery in honour of Pome's patron saint. Westminster had now become a roval residence, though its palace had not the fame or splendour of after days. The little Abbey near its gates was already of some repute, for it had been dedicated to St. Peter, as the tale went, by the saint himself. This Edward resolved to rebuild. During the later years of his reign he reared, at a vast cost, and bv the help of Norman architects, a church almost coextensive with the present building. The Confessor's Minster was no doubt far more elaborate in design and execution than any other church in Britain. St. Stephen's and Pa Trinite, at Caen, though both of slightly later date, may perhaps give us an idea of its main features. It was cruciform in plan, with throe towers, (wo western, one central, capped by short spires, and with an apsidal east end. No trace of it, however, now remains above ground, though here and there in the monastic precincts a few fragments of wall may be seen, some of them actual remnants of the Confessor's work, others built not long after his death, and in continuance of his plan. The church was only ready for dedication at the close of his reign; and he was unable to be present at tin; ceremony. On Innocents' Day, 1065, he was just able to sign the Charter, the new building was consecrated in the Queen's presence by the hands of Stigand, and on Sylvester's Eve Edward passed away, and a troublous time for England bejran. Westminster Abbey.] HISTORICAL. 3 Thus the inaugural events for the Abbey of Westminster were the funeral of its founder and the coronation of his successor — both of them events signi- ficant of its future history. But we will only dwell upon this so far as it affects the fabric itself. 'That remained with little change for nearly two centuries. One of the first acts of Henry III. was to add a Lady Chapel east of the Norman apse. A quarter of a century later (a.d. 1245) he undertook a far greater work, the rebuilding of the whole Abbey. To him we owe a large part of the present structure ; and to his eclectic tastes many of its peculiarities are due. The new church was the outcome both of his religious fervour, which was exceptional, and of his personal feeling towards the English side of his ancestry. It is no less a memorial of another trait in his character — his lavish expenditure; for " the royal Abbey, as in the Confessor's time so in Henry's, is absolutely a royal gift." At his death the building was carried westward only one bay beyond the transept. It was continued three bays further by his son, Edward I. For some two hundred years the work progressed slowly, the nave being gradually replaced; but at the time of the Civil War the western towers were still unfinished. After the Restoration they fell into the hands of Wren, who completed the western facade of the building. Of his addition to the Abbey, we can only say that it is an excellent niece of masonry, and might easily have been yet more incongruous. His design for the finished building will be found on page 11. He also disfigured the details of the front of the north transept. Here, however, a recent restora- tion, directed by Mr. (afterwards Sir) G. (i. Scott, has effaced the traces of Wren's unsympathetic hand. But, while the old faith yet prevailed, and before the old style of architecture had yielded to the reviving classic spirit, one great alteration was made in the eastern part of the Abbey : the Lady Chapel — the third Henry's earliest work — was taken down by the seventh Henry, and replaced by one of larger and statelier proportions. It was designed to quiet his conscience by enlisting on his side the Virgin, in whom he had always had " most singulier trust and confidence," to secure that masses should be said, and alms distributed for the welfare of his soul "perpetually for ever, while the world shall endure" — that is, for some thirty years; perhaps, also, in consciousness of the weakness of his title to the throne, to set his mark on this which was already one of the most truly national among our edifices, and to make his grave in one of its most sacred places. The Abbey suffered less than might have been expected both at the Re- formation and during the Civil War. As the tomb-house of so many kings, it was dealt with tenderly at the former epoch. There had been no contumacious churchman, whose memory was an offence, in what had been almost a chapel royal. lie whose relics were enshrined in its holiest place had keen an English king. On the second occasion, when crown and mitre went down before the Puritan, the Abbey had become nationalised. No more striking testimony to this ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. ["Westminster Abbey. can be quoted than the fact that the great Protector, with other magnates of his age, was laid to rest in the easternmost part of its Lady Chapel. So the hand of the iconoclast was to a great extent withheld. Natural decay, and the dull contempt for medi- aeval work which characterised the last century, have wrought mischief enough ; nevertheless, many of its choicest relics have suffered but ittlc. Disfigured as it is in many )arts by incongruous and often lideons monuments, overcrowded with such memorials as it is in all, " the Abbey" still remains one of the most beautiful among our churches, the most interesting historic building in the whole of the United Kingdom. Let us enter the' Minster by its western door; for this is the best way of apprehending at a glance its most characteristic features. One, as seen from this point — with Wren's work at our hack, and that of Henry VII. hid from view — is the uniformity of the design as a whole. i uougn, ai we have said, almost the whole of the nave is later than the reign of Henry III., it produces the impression of a building belonging to the earliest part of the Middle Pointed, or Decorated. Period. Another feature is, for an English Minster, its exceptional T!IE SOUTH TRANSEPT. Westminster Ariiey.] ARCHITECTURAL. height. Its architecture lias, from the first, been slightly exotic. Both the English Edward and the English-born Henry made use of French architects. Westminster Abbey is not only actually the loftiest ecclesiastical structure in England, but also the highest in proportion to its breadth; the ratio of the one to the other being 3 to 1, while in most of our cathedrals it varies from 2 to 2-5 to 1. Another charac- teristic, not common, though not unique, is its chevet. This, too, is French rather than Eng- lish. The last feature which we will notice is its high orna- mentation. Though, as is usual in buildings of this date, the tracery of the windows and the capitals of the columns are not especially rich in design, the walls arc covered with elaborate diapering up to the base of the clerestory. If we may venture on a criticism, the height is almost dispropor- tionate, making the building look a little narrow, and the triforium, beautiful as it is in itself, rather detracts from the effect of the clerestory. An arcade of simpler design, as at Rheims, produces a more har- monious whole. The ritual choir now occupies three bays of the nave. It is enclosed by a stone screen; of this the inner stonework dates from the thirteenth century, but the facade is of the nineteenth. Right of the doorway and beneath an arch is the monument of the first Earl Stanhope ; left, that of Isaac Newton, the mathematician and physicist. The organ, lately re-arranged ami enlarged, is grouped on each side of the screen so as not to obstruct the view. The monuments in the nave, numerous as they have become, are com- paratively modern, few interments, at any rate of note, having taken place here before the beginning of the last century. Yet there is now but little room left SHIUNE OF EUWAKD THE CONFESSOR. G ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Westminster Abbey. in the floor for graves, or on the walls for memorials. Under the north-west tower, around the cumbrous monument of Fox (removed from the north tran- sept, where the great orator was buried), are grouped those of other eminent Liberals, so that this " has been consecrated as the Whigs' Corner." Over the west door is the statue of Pitt. Under the south-west tower, in the baptist- ery, was the consistory court; a figure in the window is said to represent the Black Prince. Here is a monument to Addison's friend Craggs, with an epitaph written by Pope. Here, too, are memorials of William Wordsworth, John Keble, Frederick Maurice, and Charles Kingsley — all buried elsewhere. The north aisle shows us the stone beneath which "rare Ben Jonson " is buried in a standing position; the last resting-place of the great surgeon, John Hunter; the graves of Spencer Perceval, the murdered statesman, and Charles Lyell, the geologist, near that of Woodward, founder of the professorship of that science at Cambridge. John Jlerschel, the illustrious astronomer, is not far from the monument of Newton, and in fit proximity to the latter is Charles Darwin, hardly less great among naturalists than he among mathematicians. In the south aisle we must not forget to notice the curious Abbots' pew above the Dean's door. Its pavement, as its Avails, tell us of Atterbury, divine, statesman, and conspirator, who was buried in this familiar spot " as far from kings and Cassars as the space will admit of." Friend's memorial is appropriately near. Oongreve, the dramatist, favourite of a duchess, is here; and, in congenial company, Mrs. Oldfield, whom the pomps and vanities of the world accompanied to her coffin. Admiral Tyrell deserved better of his generation than to be com- memorated by so hideous a monument, which has, however, now assumed less offensive proportions. Many other brave soldiers and sailors have memorials here. Some of the monuments record those whose graves are in the central part of the nave. Among these arc several who in our own days have attained to repute. Here rested for a few days the body of George Peabody. Toward the eastern part lie, in one row, Gr. E. Street, CI. (}. Scott, and Charles Barry. South of these are placed Lord Lawrence, Colin Campbell (Lord Clyde), and Outram, the Bayard of India. Not far away rests the body of David Living- stone, brought to the African coast from the central wilds by the loving care of his native attendants; and Cochrane, Lord Dundonald, the prey of faction, has here met with tardy justice. Here is a brass to Robert Stephenson, who is interred in St. Andrew's Chapel, and one to Sir Robert Wilson; the former ugly in its realism, the latter ridiculous in its medievalism. The General is represented in full fourteenth century armour! North and south of the Choir the aisles continue to be crowded with monuments. On the north side we note memorials of Blow, Croft, and Purcell, of Arnold, of Wilberforce, and of Stamford Raffles, and the new altar-tomb of the late Sub-Dean, Lord John Thynne. On Westminster Abbey.] STATESMEN AND POETS. 7 the south side are memorials of Walts and the Wesleys, of Kneller and Paoli. The murder of Thomas Thynu is "writ in marble;" and among many other brave men is Sir Cloudesley Shovel, " a very gallant man." The north transept, after the interment of Lord Chatham, became "the states- man's aisle." No part of the building is more crowded with monuments, especially with monuments of modern date. It might be compared to a petrified Madame Tussaud's. In several cases the monuments are only memorials, but Chatham, Fox, Grattan, George Canning, and his son, the Viceroy of India, are actually buried here. On the west side, under the arches, are three large monuments: one, the " Great Commoner;" another, three captains in Rodney's fleet; the third, Lord Mansfield. Near these are the statues of Castlereagh and Palmerston and Follett. In the adjoining aisle Lord Aberdeen ("the travelled Thane"), George Cornewall Lewis, Warren Hastings. Jonas Hanway, Francis Horner, and Richard Cobden, are commemorated ; also Herbert Edwardes and Vice-Admiral Watson, both of Indian fame, with many more "mighty men of valour." Newcastle, "the loyal Duke," and his literary Duchess, occupy places under the arches on the north side, and east of these is the monument to Sir Peter Warren. The statues of the three Cannings arc side by side; south of them stands Sir John Malcolm, and then Beaconsfield. At the corner is Peel, absurdly clad in a Roman toga. Behind these aic the chapels of St. Andrew, St. Michael, and St. John the Evangelist, now thrown together by the destruction of their screens. They, too, are crowded with monuments. The kneeling knights supporting the upper slab of Sir Francis Vere's tomb are admirably executed, as Roubiliac himself testified. That sculptor's ghastly memorial to Mrs. Nightingale is familiar to all. Norris, made fatherless by Anne Boleyn's fondness, with his wife — Queen Elizabeth's "black crow" — rests in St. Andrew's Chapel. Sir George Holies has displaced the altar of St. John ; Sarah, Duchess of Somerset, that of St. Michael ; and among others recorded on the walls we can only name Mrs. Siddons, Admiral Kempenfelt, and Sir John Franklin. The south transept has become the A 7 alhalla of literature. The eastern portion has long borne the name of "Poets' Corner." The western wall "was early called the 'learned' or the 'historical' side." We cannot attempt to enumerate the names of all those who arc buried or commemorated here. The paragraph would become a mere catalogue. We can only mention some of those for whom it is the actual resting-place. Chief is Chaucer, who ended his life in the Abbey precincts. The monument was erected a century and a half later. Close by are Pryden's tomb and Beaumont's grave. Here, too, lie Michael Drayton and Edmund Spenser, Abraham Cowley and Matthew Prior, Thomas Campbell and John Gay. In or near this transept also are laid Isaac Casaubon, William Camden, Henry Spelman, Isaac Barrow, David Garrick, Samuel Johnson, Thomas ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Westminster Abbey. Babin<>ton Maeaulay, and Connop Thirlwall. The large allegorical monument of the Duke of Argyll and Greenwich, whom readers of the "Heart of Midlothian" THE CHOIR. will remember, disfigures this transept, but his body was laid in a vault beneath the Chapel of Henry VII. In the Choii- the fittings are modern, as are the altar and reredos ; the marble pavement is only of interest as the gift of Busby, the great schoolmaster of Westminster Abbey.] SC E WE OF THE CORONATIONS. 9 his age. But that within the rails is, for England, an exceptional work; the materials, in great part spoils of classic structures, were brought from Rome by an Abbot of Westminster, and the mosaic, was executed by workmen from that city about the year 1268. The sepulchral memorials around us here go back to earlier times. A beautiful tomb north of the altar commemorates Edmund Crouchback, son of Henry III. j and founder of the House of Lancaster. Beneath the next arch is the monument of his wife, Avclinc, together with that of Aymer dc Valence, nicknamed by Gaveston, to his sorrow, "Joseph the Jew." On the south side, behind the sedilia, is the reputed tomb of Sebert, but not, of course, a contemporary work, and beneath the next arch rests the "great Flemish mare," Anne of Cleves. The portrait of Richard II., "the first contemporary painting of an English Sovereign," now hanjjs in front of some curious tapestry. The begin- ning of many an epoch in English history is brought to mind as we regard this part of the Abbey, for here the Sovereign is crowned, the throne being placed in front of the altar. The homage of the peers is received on another seat, erected beneath the lantern. Each one who can be said to have really reigned over England has been crowned in the Abbey of Westminster, from the days of William the Norman to those of Queen Victoria; and it has also been the scene of many another act of national worship, such as the Thanksgiving Service on the completion of the fiftieth year of her present Majesty's reign. East of the transepts, north and south, are two little chapels. The northern bears Abbot Islip's name, and in the chantry above are preserved the remains of the waxwork effigies which used to be carried at royal and other great funerals, and in former days were among the chief attractions of the Abbey. c INTERIOR. OE UENlti THE SEVENTH S ClIAl'EL. 10 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Westminsteb Abbey. On the south side is the chapel of St. Benedict. In the north ambulatory are those of St. John the Baptist and St. Paul : in the south, of St. Edmund and St. Nicholas. All are crowded with monuments — mostly of Elizabethan and Jacobean times, though among them arc some of earlier date. The most in- teresting (in the chapel of St. Edmund) is the tomb of William de Valence, half-brother of Henry III., "the only existing example of an effigy in Limoges enamel work in England," but it has been sadly mutilated. In the same chapel is the effigy of Elizabeth Russell, who, ' according to the old legend, died from the prick of a needle, "a martyr to good housewifery." The place of chief interest is the Confessor's Chapel, which occupies the remainder of the Choir behind the high altar, and is thus raised considerably above the level of the ambulatory. In the centre of the ancient inlaid pave- ment stands the magnificent shrine erected by Henry IN. to contain the body of his sainted predecessor. Though the golden casket which enclosed the coffin has been replaced by a humbler fabric of wood, though the Purbeck marble of the lower part has crumbled, and the glass mosaic has in many places been chipped away, this is still the most perfect monument of its kind in Britain, for to such as these the Reformation proved exceptionally fatal. A memorial hardly less interesting stands in front of the old screen which backs the rercdos. This is the Coronation Chair. It was made by order of Edward I., and first used at his son's coronation. It has served the same purpose without interruption for six hundred years. Beneath it is the stone of Scone, a relic yet more venerable — though ye discard the legends of i ts having served as Jacob's pillow at Bethel, and of its subsequent wanderings — lor it was the Palladium of Scotland, and the throning-stool of its kings. The second chair was made for Queen Mary at the joint coronation of herself and William IN. Between these are placed the huge sword and shield of Edward IN. ' l Longshanks" lies beneath the third bay to the north, his strange order as to the disposal of his body having been thus violated. Beneath the next arch is the stately tomb id' Henry IN., enriched with slabs of Egyptian and Spartan "porphyry," the spoils id' Rome. Then comes the monu- ment of Queen Eleanor, ending the line id' memorial crosses. Then, beneath a stately chantry, which is extended eastward to overarch the ambulatory, stands the tomb of Henry V., the victor of Agincourt. The both' of his wife, [Catherine, after many vicissitudes, is now placed near. Opposite to Eleanor lies Queen Philippa; then comes the monument of her husband, Edward IN.; ami lastly the ill-fated Richard II. and his Queen, Anne. All are memorials of the highest interest, on account of their execution as well as of their antiquity. They have not wholly escaped the hand of the iconoclast or id' the relic-hunter. Still, as a rule, the injuries are comparatively light, and it has been deemed needless, happily, to invoke the aid of tin/ restorer. John of Waltharn, favourite of Westminsteb Abbey.] HENRY THE SEVENTH'S CHAPEL. II Richard II., has boon admitted into tin's august fellowship. Edith, wife of Edward the Confessor, rests near her husband's shrine. Queen Maud lies on the south side, while Elizabeth Tudor and Thomas of Woodstock complete the company of monarchs and their kinsfolk. After the entombment of Henry V. there came a break in the royal ?: K , ."Si; -■ i mNM-.\ . BRIDGWATER, WESTON ZOYLAND, AND TAUNTON. MEMORIES OF SEDGMOOR. QJOMERSET is nowadays a veritable Slecjjy Hollow among English counties; *-J the pulses of the national life throb in the busy, crowded communities of northern and midland towns — a fact of which the framer of each succes- sive Reform Act has made a note by reducing the political influence of this diminishing population. But although it be indisputable that English history in the present is being made elsewhere, Somerset has borne its full share of the troubles and turmoils of the past, and three or four centuries ago its sons dotted its surface with enduring memorials of their perfection in an art winch this more polished age seems to have lost. The church towers of Somerset are unrivalled specimens of Perpendicular architecture, which enjoy universal fame. Even the expanse of flat, low-lying land between the Mendip and the Quantock hills — which the sea has been made to surrender against its will, so to speak, and where at times the flood-waters vet bring to a standstill that embodiment of the triumph of mind over matter, the railway locomotive — is rich in varied memories. In its waste and primitive state, when almost the only sounds heard here would be the plash of waters and the shrill cries of the sea-fowl among the sedges, it naturally formed for a time a sort of march or border country between the ^"est Saxons and the Britons, in the course of the conquest by which the latter were gradually driven back to their final retreat, Cornwall. King Ina, in the beginning of the eighth century, pushing his power further westward, on rising ground above the River Tone, on a spot probably marked out for him by a former Roman occupation, built a castle and drew up his code of laws. This, then, was the origin of the modern county town of Taunton, whose beautiful church of St. Mary Magdalene is known to everyone who has ever passed through West Somerset. But the West Saxons were in their turn overrun by a fresh horde of sea rovers, whose fierce energies had not yet been softened by a settled lite. When at last, in 878, Guthrum poured his Danish host down upon the royal palace at Chippenham, in Wiltshire, the power of Wesscx seemed to be completely overthrown. The only refuge open to the fugitive king was the marsh-land of Somerset. But the beaten ruler was no ordinary man, for his subsequent action showed, and posterity has recognised, Kino- Alfred to be the greatest of all the English kings before the Norman Conquest. lie retreated to the island of Athelney, a spit of land between the Parrot and the Tone, which furnished him with an impenetrable 16 A I! BEYS AND CHURCHES. [BiuDGWATEii, Weston fastness. There, like a tiger crouching for a spring, lie sojourned for eight months, until ho was ready to inflict a crushing blow upon the invader Guthrum. To this period is attributed the episode of the burning of the cakes, dear to the heart of Mrs. Barbauld. The wars of King Stephen's reign must have swept over this district, for the king laid siege to the castles of powerful and predatory barons in various directions BRIDGWATER. : TTfE EXTERIOR, around it; but nothing need be recorded here respecting thorn. Taunton Castle was, however, rebuilt by Bishop Giffard in the previous reign; Bridgwater Castle, built by Walter de Briwere in the reign of Kin- John, has now totally disappeared. Upon three occasions the peace of (his neighbourhood has been disturbed by conflicts lor the possession of the English crown. Perldn Warbeck, after failing to effect much in Ireland, landed upon the coast of Cornwall, where his chief sympathisers were, and advanced eastward to conquer England. He seized upon Taunton, but got no further. Here he was faced by the royal forces, from which he fled without striking a, blow, and was speedily captured and ultimately led to the gallows. When, on April 23rd, 1642, Sir John Hotharn, by order of Parliament, closed ZOYLAND, AND Tavnton ] CAVALIER AND ROUNDHEAD. 17 the gates of Hull against King Charles L, and thus began the great Civil War, the sympathies of Somer- set were with the Parlia- ment; but Cornwall was strongly Royalist, and Sir Ralph Hopton, raising a force there of nearly 4,000 lorse and foot, .swept through the county be- fore any resistance could >q organised nearer than at Bath, and took posses- sion of Taunton on the way. Bridgwater, whose castle mounted forty guns, was already held by Colonel Wyndham for the UKIDUWATLK : THE LXTEHIOK. King. Although the battle of Devizes threw the West entirely into the hands of the Royalists, Taunton was taken by Colonel Robert Blake in the next year. This gallant Somerset man, whose birthplace is still pointed out in Bridgwater, was afterwards the renowned admiral of the Com- monwealth, but he did not adopt the sea as a profession till he was past fifty years of age. lie was twice closely besieged by Lord Goring in Taunton, but nothing could cow the stubborn valour of the governor, nor shake the fidelity of the townspeople, even though they were reduced to the verse of starvation and saw wh ■■'<• o D biudgavateii: the cokfokatiun PE\YS. hole streets destroyed by the mortars and 18 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Bridgwater, Weston grenades of the Cavaliers. Fairfax and Cromwell defeated the Royalist force on July 10th at Aller Moor, on the right bank of the Parrot, near Lang-port, and stormed Bridgwater on July 21st. These sieges and battles, however, were only incidents in a larger drama which was played upon a wider stage ; but forty years later this marsh-land of Somerset was the principal scene in a brief and pitiable tragedy which was of national interest and importance, and has endowed it with its principal memories. It was the scene also of a butchery more cruel and atrocious than any other recorded in our history; and it is hardly possible to look upon the greensward of Sedgmoor without a mist of blood coming in imagination before the eyes. When the Duke of Monmouth, one of the base born sons of Charles II., raised the standard of revolt against the Catholic King, James II., and landed at Lyme in Dorset, he was well advised in making his way to Taunton. The men of the town had not shared in the revulsion of feeling which hailed the Restoration ; they proudly celebrated the anniversary of the raising of the siege, and " their stubborn attachment to the old cause had excited so much fear ami resentment at Wh tehall that, by a royal order, their moat had been filled up and their wall demolished to the foundation." Monmouth was received, therefore, with the utmost enthusiasm, the town was decorated with wreaths and flowers, ever}' man wore the badge of the movement, the church bells rang merrily, and a dag, embroidered with the royal emblems, was offered to Monmouth by a train of young girls. Whilst here, indeed, he was persuaded to assume the title of king, and was proclaimed as such in the market-place on the 20th of June, 1685. The next day he marched to Bridgwater, where he was received by the Mayor and Corporation in their robes of office, and again proclaimed at the high cross. He took up his quarters in the Castle, and his men encamped in the castle field, and fashioned themselves weapons out of scythes and other tools of husbandry or mining, in default of better equipment. The cavalry were mounted upon large colts, for at that period great herds were bred upon the marshdand of Somerset for the purpose of supplying London with coach- and cart-horses. Monmouth advanced from Bridgwater to Glastonbury, where his men bivouacked in the ruins of the abbey; for even sacred buildings are not respected in time of war. lie was foiled, however, in his attempt to seize Bristol, and Bath refused to open its gates to him. The royal forces were near at hand, and he then fell back upon Frome, and on the 2nd of July re-entered Bridgwater, with his ardour very much damped. What to do he did not know — whether to abandon his rustic followers altogether, or to make a wild attempt to march into Cheshire. One project which he entertained was to entrench himself at Bridgwater, and hundreds of labourers were summoned to dig ditches and throw up earthworks. On the 5th of July the royal forces came in sight, and pitched their camp St. Mary's. ANCIENT TOMK. attract more attention if it Harold Lewis. SELBORNE AND EVER SEE Y. TWO LOVERS OF NATURE. Between the u to lines of railway which diverge at Guildford, the one to touch Winchester, by way of the Hampshire hop- \ gardens, the other traversing the route to Portsmouth, via ~-L^i*^'W$^l Petersfield, lies a typical tract of rural England. Uncon- a^j;.-^ taminated as vet by railways, the villages and hamlets of this fflsjS* portion of East Hampshire retain a simplicity which is becoming > ' rarer every year in our country districts. No better type of the poet's " Sweet Auburn " could be found than Selborne, which is de- \„ scribed in topographical language as " a village and parish, pleasantly situated in a sheltered vale, four and a half miles south-east-by-east from Alton, five north from Liss Railway Station, and fifty-two from London, in the northern division of the county, upper half-hundred of Selborne, Alton union, petty sessional division, and County Court district, and in the diocese and archdeaconry of Winchester, and rural deanery of Alton, western division." From the finely wooded hill overlooking tins valley the habitations of the community are out- spread in charming panorama, and conspicuous amongst them rises the parish church. Selborne Church, as the illustration on the opposite page will suggest, has no special architectural distinction. There are hundreds of churches of equal unpretentiousness scattered over the land. It, however, receives eminence from the fact that it was the scene of the lifelong ministrations of Gilbert White, the naturalist. The house in which he lived is here, and also the famous Hanger beech-wood, in which he rambled and recorded the observations that have an abiding place in our literature. The homely church, which is dedicated to St. Mary, is an ancient building, partly Early English and partly Norman, the nave belonging to the latter and the aisles to the former. The squat, square tower is thoroughly characteristic, in a humble degree, of the heavy style so common in this part of the country. The walls are of rubble, nicely pointed without and wholesomely washed within. The two aisles are divided from the nave by plain circular columns and arches. The parish register dates from 1560, but a. priory of Black Canons was founded here in 1233 by Peter do Rupibus, Bishoj} of Winchester, and in the Domesday survey Selborne figures as a royal demesne. There is an old document of inquisitions held here, dated the Friday after St. Valentine's Day, 1274-5, indicating that the Prior of Sel- borne was entitled by Charter of Henry III. to "gallows assize of bread, beer, Selbokne and Evf.hslkv.] SELBORNE. 25 view of frank-pledge," etc. The establishment grew apace into one of the dis- orderly set that was righteously suppressed, and, this fate overtaking it, the prior)- became part of the endowment of Magdalen College. The Priory Farm SELBORNE : THE CHURCH AND VICARAGE. in the Bourne Valley is supposed to this day to mark the site of the sanctuary in which the Black Canons fattened and rioted. History, however, has nothing of consequence to say about Selborne, or its church of St. Mary, until it became immortalised by association with the simple lover of Nature who dwelt in its calm retreat and silent shade. The White family, as the tablets on the walls of the church show, were natives of the soil. Gilbert White's grandfather was vicar of Selborne, and the naturalist himself, whose father was a barrister, was, on the 18th of July, 1 7 '2 , born at the house ("The Wakes") to which modern pilgrimages are often made. A brilliant career might not improbably have been open to the man who, at the age of twenty-four, became Fellow of < )riel, and was appointed Senior Proctor of his university in 1752 ; but his tastes lav in another direction, and Gilbert White preferred to return to the groves and lanes of his native village, and enter upon those quiet studies of animate creation which only ended with his death in June, 1793. We know very little of the vicar's ministrations amongst the Selborne E 2G ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Selbobnb and parishioners, and, indeed, little of his life other than may he inferred from his writing's. He lived and worked amongst his people, pursuing the even tenor of his way, far removed from the eye of the world; and we have his own assur- ance in the "advertisement" to tin 1 first edition of Ins book that his out-of- door studies, " by keeping the body and mind employed, have, under Providence, contributed to much health and cheerfulness of spirits, even to old age." Within comparatively recent times new facts pertaining to the life of this worthy have been brought to light. The last letter in the original edition of the "Natural History of Selborne" was dated June, 1787; the "Observations on Various Parts of Nature, from Mr. White's MSS.," extend to 1792; and the " Naturalist's Calendar, witli observations in various branches of Natural History, extracted from the Papers of the Rev. Gilbert White," covers the period between 1768 and the year of his death. But in the "Transactions of the Norfolk and Norwich Naturalists' Society" (1876) there appeared a series of ten additional letters from Gilbert White to Robert Marsham, a Norfolk gentleman who de- voted his leisure to the study of arboriculture, and whose great-grandson (the Rev. II. P. Marsham) discovered them amongst the family records and pre- sented them to the Society. To Selborne Church there is scarcely an allusion in Gilbert White's writings. lie begins Ids first letter to "Thomas Pennant, Esq.," with the sober intention of acquitting himself at the outset, and once for all, of the topograjdiy of his district — specifies its latitude, enumerates its parishes, but soon turns aside to the soil, the woodlands, the streams. Thenceforth, in his communications to Pennant and the Hon. Dailies Barrington, we are introduced to all feathered, furred, and creeping things, and, incidentally, to the farmers, gamekeepers, ami peasantry; but we have no peep at or inside the church id' which he was vicar. Selhorne Church has been twice restored since his death — in 1877 at a cost of £1,000, and in 1883 at a cost of £'.',40(1. The last-named restoration applied principally to the south aisle, and to tin,' east and most of the south wall. Where rebuilding was necessary the old order was exactly reproduced; and for the most part the surface of the stonework was left untouched. The restoration was carried out under the direction of Mr. W. White, F.S.A., grand-nephew of the naturalist. Over the arches in the smith aisle a quantity of worm-eaten ornamental woodwork, centuries old, has been fixed as a memento of the past. In this aisle a marble tablet has been erected to Professor Pell, who was Secretary and Vice- President of the Royal Society and President of the Linnean Society. He lived at " The Wakes," cherishing with loving regard every relic of its former owner, whom he deeply admired, and died in 1880. At the chancel end of the aisle a remarkable collection of ancient stonework, including two coffins discovered during the restoration of (he church, is arranged in an enclosure on the floor. Near Evbkrlev.] GILBERT WHITE'S GRAVE. 27 the communion-table Gilbert White's tablet will bo found, stating- that in the fifth grave from that wall arc buried the remains of the Rev. Gilbert White, if. A., fifty years Fellow of Oriel College in Oxford, and historian of this Lis native parish. The inscription thus concludes: "He was kind and beneficent to his relations, benevolent to the poor, and deservedly respected by all his friends and neighbours." This tablet was originally placed on the outer wall, and was removed into the chancel many years ago. The altar-piece, supposed by seme to be by Albert 1 Hirer, but probably by Mabuse, representing the offerings of the Wise Men from the East to the infant Saviour, was presented to the church by Gilbert's brother Benjamin, a well-known London publisher of works on natural history a century ago, and the successor, on the death of the bachelor vicar, to the Selborne property. In Selborne churchyard there stands a small weather-worn headstone, in- scribed with the now almost obliterated initials " G. W.," and with the chiselled date of Gilbert White's death, and this (with the tablet in the church) informs the wayfarer of his place of rest. Yerv near this grassy mound is the tomb, en- closed by handsome iron railings, of Professor Bell; but it is strange that nothing- has been done to distinguish the grave of Gilbert White from those of the ordinary parishioners. Whatever change there may be in the restored church, and in the residence on the other side of the small village green, there is little in the outer surroundings. In the churchyard there still sturdily stands the magni- ficent yew which in the spring, as Gilbert White tells us, shed clouds of dust, and filled the atmosphere around with its farina. The bustard, the honey-buzzard, and the raven are seen no more; but the owls hoot, and the rooks, which afforded him so much entertainment, caw and quarrel as in the days when the naturalist parson walked in the lanes, meadows, and woods of the peaceful Hampshire village. Almost due north as the crow flies, and within a distance of twenty miles of Selborne, is another Hampshire church, in which another naturalist, different, however, in all respects from serenely simple Gilbert White, passed the best years of his clerical life. Eversley Church and rectory arc sacred, wherever the English lamniao'c is spoken, throug-h their association with Charles Kingsley. In this respect the village churches of Selborne and Eversley resemble one another. Both, also, are dedicated to St. Mary. Local histories and guide-books, with unquestionable truth, dismiss Eversley Church with the remark that it contains no feature of architectural interest. It is a brick edifice of no particular character, and the ruddy tiles of the high-pitched roof have a singularly unecclesiastical appearance. The nave and the aisle are of equal proportions, and the}- are divided by square whitewashed pillars with substantial arches between. There was undoubtedly a 28 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Sklbokne and EVEBSLEY church at Eversley in the reign ,-~"* ,' of Edward the Confessor, but the chancel of the budding- in which Kingsley entered upon his first ministerial charge dates from about the time of Henry VII. There are a few old monuments in the church, which consists of north and south chancel, nave, and aisle. The battlemented tower is square, and quaintly pinnacled at each corner, always a pretty object above the foliage, which is plentiful in the immediate neighbourhood. The brickwork of the front of the church, and of the tower, is being rapidly hidden either by ivy or by roses, jasmine, and other ornamental creepers, which, with the abounding greenery of the churchyard, give a delightful rustic tone to the place. Eversley Church was restored in 1S7G, at a cost of £1,200, as a memorial to Canon Kingsley. The churchyard is entered through a picturesque lych- gate, and the short approach is by an avenue of cypresses. In a corner of this crowded and sequestered God's-acre a white marble cross, with the inscription " Amavimus, Amamus, Amabimus," has been placed over the grave of Charles Kingsley. The name and date of death (January 23, 1875) are carved upon the EvERSLEY.] A NEGLECTED PARISH. 29 CHARLES KINGSLEY. pedestal, and around the head of the cross are tlio words, " God is love." The grave is close to the boundary wall, and is overshadowed by one of the outlying branches of a venerable Scotch fir in the rectory grounds, which are separated from the churchyard by a low iron rail- ing. On the wall of a modest bap- tistery inside the church a brass plate bears the following inscription: — IN PIAJI MEMOIUAM CAUOI.l KINGSLEY S PETEI WESTMONAS'1'EltIENSIS CANONICI HVIVSCE ECCLESIjE PER XXXI ANNOS I! ECTOR IS DILECTJSSIHri. The parish of Eversley, known in latter days as the home of Kingsley, and as tin 1 centre of a tract of breezy heath - land, where the £>orse is golden in summer, and the dark firs are fragrant all the year round, was, in ancient times, a manor granted to the monks of Westminster, and by them held for generations; and the original charter of Edward the Confessor proves that there was an Eversley Church even at that period. When Kingsley became pastor, in 1842, of this sparsely inhabited wild, it was in a deplorable condition. The services of the church had been for many years utterly neglected, and the young curate had at first to work upon the most unpromising ma- terial. He found sheep feeding at large in the churchyard; and Holy Communion was only celebrated three times a year. The husbandman to bring this rough ground into tillage, now, however, appeared on the scene. Kingsley was born in 1819, under the open brow of Dartmoor. As a lad he revelled in the scenery of the Fens, and afterwards, affair Clovelly, imbibed the impressions turned to such telling account in ' ; West- ward Ho ! KINGSLEY S GRAVE. At the age of twenty-three he settled down at Eversley under the 30 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Sblbouxe and depressing circumstances aboye narrated. He faced all the difficulties with manly resolution, and, by the time he received his appointment as rector, a healthy system of progress had been established. Amidst all the occupations of a busy life he remained, as he began, a model hard-working parish priest, faithful to his village church, with its prosaic red tower and corner turrets. Amongst the hard- riding farmers and plodding peasants he became all thing's to all men. As a paragraph in the " Memories," edited by his widow, puts it, he could swing a flail with the threshers in the barn, turn his swathe with the mowers in the meadow, pitch hay with the haymakers in the pasture ; and he knew every fox-earth on the moor, the reedy hover of the pike, and the still hole where the chub lay. The comparison already suggested between the vicar of Selborne and the rector of Eversley is again forced upon us when we consider the conditions under which Charles Kingsley lived. Not only are Eversley Church and rectory, like the church and residence of Selborne, sacred (though in different degrees) wherever the English language is spoken, through association with the name of one of their clergymen, but there are general points of resemblance between Charles Kingsley and Gilbert White. Both were keen naturalists; both clung to the obscure, and, to any but themselves, dull and uninteresting parishes in which their ministerial careers began; both lived the lives of true- hearted English gentlemen; both, by their own choice, were buried in the village churchyards in which, many a time, they had read the impressive burial service of their Church at the grave - sides of members of their flocks. Yet what greater contrast, in this world of contrasts, can fie conceived than that between the two men? Gilbert White shyly shrank from public life, and sauntered in the shade of a narrow sphere, well content to he left alone to observe how Nature performed her magic work. The other was impelled outwards by the restless prompting of genius; warred gallantly, pushing to the forefront in the battle of minds; cried aloud in wildernesses; achieved ultimate fame as poet, novelist, preacher, in the noisy world; and all too soon -went home to his beloved Eversley to leave it no more. Eversley had much to do in the moulding of Kingsley \s character. Whether he, too, would have been the contemplative rather than the sportsman naturalist, had he lived in the days of Gilbert White, who shall decide? His lot was cast in an advanced age, when a thousand attractive paths were open to the daring and adventurous, and for a time he debated within himself whether he had not better leave Cambridge and go out to the Ear West and become a prairie hunter. Eventually he chose the better part in Eversley Church and parish, and evermore through life suppressed, without destroying, that inherited love of sporting, fighting, and adventure which betrayed itself in his poems, works of fiction, and prose idylls, and which, in the time of his severest mental strain, Everslev.] TORT AND PREACHER. 3J gave him as healthful safety-valves the green fields, the clear trout - streams, and the gallop through the winter fir-woods. In Ids connection with Eversley we are brought more directly face to face with his leanings towards country pursuits than if our starting-point were the cloisters of Chester and Westminster, to which, in his mature years, the preacher of village sermons was attached. The study in Eversley rectory, in which Kingslcy wrote nearly the whole of his works, contained, besides hooks, papers, and pictures, store of well -used fly-rods, landing nets, hunting whips, spurs, and pipes; and but for these our bookshelves might never have been enriched with the works bearing his name. Eversley rectory was not a luxurious, large, or health y abode; but it is clear that wdiat the beeches of the Hanger at Selborne were to Gilbert White, the pine plantations around Eversley were to Kingsley. A letter written by him during the early days of his curacy records, in a graphic pen-and-ink sketch, his future home — the ground sloping upward from the windows to a sunk fence ; the furze hills beyond, perfectly beautiful in light, shade, and colour; the first glimpse of the fir forests and moors (of which five-sixths of his parish consisted) behind the acacia on the lawn ; and the large, low front room, with light paper and drab curtains, and a large bow window, at which he then sat. The scenery he appraised in the words, " rich, but not exciting ; " and even this qualified praise was inspired rather by the bright hopefulness of youth than by matter-of-fact criticism. The study door at Eversley opened upon the lawn, which was one of old-fashioned arrangement, with abundance of shrubbery around, but not large enough for flower-beds. Beyond the sandy track outside the fence, the gentle upland, purple in August with the heather, kept the prospect breezily open; and for more picturesque views there was always Bramshill Park, with the very tree near which his ancestor, Archbishop Abbot, shot at a deer and killed the keeper. Windsor and Bagshot Heath were farther afield, but the small trout- streams, the Blackwater and Whitewater, were close at hand, with the limpid Test and Itchen, in the same county. Kingsley's last sermon was preached, not in Eversley Church, but in Westminster Abbey, in November, LS74. He was then Canon in residence. Enfeebled in health by chills contracted during his American tour, and returning to Eversley, he lived to thank God for the gleam of sun and frost upon the window-pane on New Year's eve, and died on the 23rd of January, at the age of fifty-five. " The Abbey is open to the Canon and the poet," Dean Stanley telegraphed that day to the house of death down in the Hampshire pine country; but Kingsley himself had said, " Eversley is the home to which I was ordained, where I came when 1 was married, and which I intend shall be my last home." And so it befell. yy Senior. BOW : ST. JAMES'S, PICCADILLY ; ST. MARTIN'S-IN-THE- FIELDS; ST. STEPHEN'S, WALBROOK. SPECIMENS OF RENAISSANCE IN LONDON. OWING to the destructive conflagration in the city of London in the year 166G, and the rapid growth of the metropolis, the majority of its churches are of comparatively modern date ; hence, in all hut the newest parts, examples of classic are more frequent than specimens of mediaeval architecture. Thus some of the former must find a place in every hook which deals with our parish churches representatively. The strong, and in some cases unthinking-, reaction in favour of Gothic architecture during the last half-century lias caused these churches to he treated with undue neglect — to he as much undervalued by ourselves as they were overvalued ]>v our great-grandfathers. For the present article we will select four churches, all in London, each possessing special merits, and each an example of a very different kind of work. We first take Bow Church in Chcapside, not because it has been to the cockney his middle point of earth, as much as was Delphi to the Greek, but because its steeple is reckoned by competent judges as one of Wren's very best works ; Fergusson even pronouncing it as " beyond all doubt the most elegant building of its class erected since the Reformation." The same authority thus briefly and accurately describes its plan : — " Like all Wren's steeples, that of Bow Church stands well on the ground, for he never was guilty of the absurdity of placing his spires astride on the portico, or thrusting them through the roof. It consists first of a plain square tower 32 feet G inches wide by 83 in height, above which are four storeys averaging 38 feet each : the first, a square belfry, adorned with Ionic pilasters, is 39 feet ; the next, which includes the beautiful circular peristyle of twelve Corinthian columns, is 37 ; the third comprehends the small lantern, and is 38 feet high, which is also the height of the spire, the whole making up a height of 235 feet." * A church has occupied this site from a very early time, and Wren's building rests in part on the massive vaulted Norman crypt, which escaped both the fire and the rebuilding, although it suffered considerably from the latter. The ancient vaulting has been removed from the centre part (it consists of a nave and aisles), pieces of masonry have been introduced, concealing much of the old work, and the south aisle, containing coffins, is now walled up ; but three fine columns of early Norman can still be well seen. From this crypt the church, which was dedicated to St. Mary, acquired the name of Santa Maria de Areuhts, translated into * Wren, as is proved by a model and an old engraving in the vestry (a fine room panelled with dark oak), intended to have a lofty loggia or building of two bays on each side of the tower, which would have greatly enhanced its effect. Beneath the tower, 18 feet below the street level, is a Roman pavement. Bow.] THE COURT OF ARCHES. 33 St. Maryde-Bow, and abbreviated ultimately into the familiar Bow Church. This same crypt— little as we suspect its existence as we pass along busy, modern-looking Cheapside— has indirectly made an important mark in the history of the law in England; for in the vestry met an eccle- siastical court, called therefrom the Court of ~^ =S5== _ --=== = Arches, its judge being entitled the Dean of jjl |jj Arches. Pepys thus records a visit to the, H B original church: "To Bow Church, to the Court of Arches, where a Judge sits and his Proctors about him in their habits, and their pleadings all in Latin." The court, as every- one knows, has long migrated from Bow Church, where, however, the ceremony of the confirmation of the bishops of the Province of Canterbury still takes place. Wren was less happy in the design of the church itself, the same authority which we have quoted in praise of the steeple con- demning the body as "an ill-designed barn outside, . . . paltry and overloaded to the last degree inside." The latter part of this censure is, we think, a little too severe. The decoration is open to criticism. There are too many windows in the east and west ends, and the effect of the " dormers" in the barrel roof of the nave is unsatisfactory ; but the architect evidently had to contend from the first with difficulties in the lighting. The gal- leries were removed in 1867, and many other improvements made ; but in the upper part of the church there is nothing calling for special notice except, perhaps, the monument to Bishop Newton, an editor of Milton, and author of "Dissertations on the Prophecies," who was formerly rector. The old church witnessed more than one scene of violence. Ouilds and corporations often misused their powers in olden days — as some assert they are apt to do even in modern times. But formerly rougher means of resistance than the law courts became almost inevitable. Anion-- the leaders of the opposition in the last part of the twelfth century one of the most noted was William BuW : THE IOWEE.. 34 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Bow. Fitzosbert, commonly called William of the Long-board. An order was issued for his arrest; he "seized an axe and felled the first soldier who advanced to seize him, and taking' refuge with a lew adherents in the tower of St. Mary-le-Bow, sum- moned his adherents to rise. [Archbishop] Hubert, Low- ever, who had already flooded the city with troops, with bold contempt of the right of sanctuary set fire to the tower and forced William to surrender. A burgher's son, whose father he had slain, stabbed him as ho came forth.'' Again in the year 1284 the right of sanctuary was violated, when one Lawrence Ducket was slain, who had taken refuge here after wounding a man. But on this occasion the offenders were severely punished, sixteen of them being hanged, and the church was placed under an interdict till it had been duly purified. A balcony overlooking Cheapside is a memorial — in a certain sense a "sur- vival," like an aborted organ in the body — of a stone building which once greatly darkened the church. This was built by Edward III. "for himself, the Queen, and other estates to stand in, there to behold the joustings and other shows at their pleasure." From this balcony, in the year 1702, Queen Anne witnessed the last pageant exhibited by a Lord Mayor. Bow bells must not be forgotten. The present peal, ten in number, was cast in 1762, replacing those celebrated by Pope in the familiar line — "Far as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound. 1 ' Those in the old church, as everyone knows, could be heard at Highgate; for did they not ring out to the runaway lad, "Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London"? From the steeple, which is not improved by a. projecting dock-dial, sounded nightly the curfew for the City. This, in the year 1469, was ordered by the Common Council to be rung at nine o'clock. On the steeple is a dragon; and a, very important dragon it was, for, as Swift tells us, it was predicted of old that "when the dragon on Bow (Lurch kisses the cock behind the Exchange, great changes will take place in England." This has been accomplished, as recorded by B. R. Haydon. In the year 18o2 bT. james's, Piccadilly : the vesthv St. James's, PicoAun.LT.] A QUA [N'T PREDICTION. 05 both these ornaments were taken down by the same man to be repaired, and were placed side by side in his yard: shortly after which the Reform Bill was passed! St. James's, Piccadilly, is another of Wren's churches. Here also the exterior, built of brick with stone quoins, is plain to the verge of ugliness, and there is not even a redeeming feature in its steeple. If we would appre- ciate the architect's power we must enter the building. To the enthusiast for Gothic it will he wholly an offence. Not only are there galleries, hut the architect has deliberately made them a feature in his design. They are sup- ported by square piers, from which rise circular columns with < lorinthian capitals. Each of these carries an entablature transverse to the axis of the church, on which rest both the barrel vault of the nave and the similar vaultings which cover each bay of the aisles. This roof has justly been termed the chief merit of the building, "first as a piece of carpentry, hut more as an appropriate mode of getting height and light in a pleasing variety of form." Wren has left on record his own opinion of his church. He states that a church cannot he built with pews and galleries to hold more than 2,000 persons so that all can hear and see. This he claims to have accomplished in St. James's, which, he thinks, "may be found beautiful and convenient, and, as such, the cheapest form of any that I could invent." The church was built in 1684, hut some changes in detail have since been made, the last a few years since, when the arrangements were somewhat modi- fied in accordance with modern ideas of ritual propriety. Grinling Gibbons designed the font, the pedestal of which is adorned by the Tree of Knowledge, with the serpent tempting our first parents. There is also some very tine wood- carving from his chisel at the east end. The restoration of this part is especially happy. The organ, which had been ordered by James II. for his private chapel at Whitehall, was given to this church by his daughter, Queen Mary. The "most noble" communion plate, noticed by Evelyn, was presented by Sir R. Geare. The rectors of St. James's have been men of exceptional eminence — of the fourteen since 1685, when Thomas Tenison was appointed to the new church, three have closed their careers at Lambeth, three others have been bishops, two have obtained deaneries, and one of these refused a bishopric. Another rector there was, hardly less eminent, but of less unimpeachable orthodoxy: tins was Dr. Samuel Clarke, scholar, theologian, and natural philosopher. In the vestry are portraits of the rectors, a series extremely interesting as a study of facial types, but, as a, rule, not of high merit as works of art. Monumental tablets are thick upon the walls and piers. Among the noted personages buried within the church or in the churchyard, are sundry artists — lluysman, Michael Dahl, the two Vanderveldes, and James Gillray. Charles Cotton, Mark Akenside, Dr. Arhuthnot, 36 A UB E YS A ND Gil UllCJI ES. [St. James's, Piccadilly. and Dr. Sydenham represent "literature and science;" John Malcolm, military diplo- matists ; Sir Tom d'Urfev, the court of Charles II. ; and among those distinguished for rank, we may mention the Duke of Queensburv. familiarly known as " Old Q." ST. JAMES S, PICCADILLY. St. Stephen's, Walbrook, is yet another of Wren's remarkable works, the design being in many respects unique. He has availed himself of a plan of construction which, though common among Eastern architects, has found little favour with their Western brethren. The ground plan is a rectangle, the sides being roughly in the proportion of nine to seven. But the distinctive feature of the design St. Stephen's, Waluuook.] A UNIQUE DESIGN. .;? is the relatively large dome which is placed near one end of the building; it rests on an octagonal base, supported by as man)' pillars. There is, however, no drum, for it rises directly from the roof. Internally, the effect is extremely good; a cruciform plan is just indicated by giving a barrel vault to the inter- ST. STEPHEN'S, AYALUKUOK (BEFORE THE LAST RESTORATION*). columnar sections which cross in the centre of the dome; while the isolation of parts which sometimes results from the ordinary cross shape is entirely avoided. Critics unite in praise of St. Stephen's as a whole, though exception is taken, and sometimes justly, to certain points of detail. The most objectionable features are the oval windows in the sides; the tower also, which is at the western end, is poor, and Fergusson complains that, as is often the case with Wren's work, the decorative part is not quite satisfactory. "There is too much of the feeling of Grrinling Gibbons' wood-carving carried into what should he constructive ornament." Still, as a whole, we have "the most pleasing interior of any Renaissance church which has yet been erected." It is not impossible that Wren would have defended the poverty of the exterior, both here and at Bow Church, 3S ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Stephen's, Walbiiook. by remarking that he knew that in neither could it be seen. At St. Stephen's the tower is flanked with houses: the Mansion House darkens a great part of it on the north, it is blocked up on the south, and almost so on the east. The site, unless in Wren's day things were very different, was one where the light must princi- pally come from above. This his design lias admirably accomplished, and if a play of words may be permitted, he has indeed "built according to his lights." Those who admire the work of Benjamin West may find in the church, as an altar-piece, a large picture, representing the stoning of St. Stephen. Also, in ;i family vault is buried the architect Sir John Vanbrugh, builder of Blenheim, Castle Howard, and many other huge structures, but the well-known epitaph is not to lie found on his monument — '■ Lie heavy n thick Norman piers. The church is really Perpendicular; but it contains some good Norman and Decorated work. Standing at the end of the nave, the visitor receives the same impression of massiveness which is so striking outside, corrected, however, by the exceeding loftiness of the roof, and the effective uniformity of the whole. No church of such antiquity was ever in better preservation. Within the present generation the building has been renovated — not "restored" — from end to end, and every corner is rich, reverend, and seemly. The pillars of the nave bear a very un- usual ornamentation, in the shape of trefoil-headed panels, which follow the bend of the arches, where, in the centre, they meet and are finished off by shields of arms. Other shields bear the rebus of Abbot Peter do Rampisham, who commenced the rebuilding of the nave in 147."), and finished it in 1490. There is quite a feast of early heraldry in Sherborne Minster. Upon the bosses of the nave roof are many badges, devices, and ciphers; among them the II and E, connected Ivy a true-lovers' knot, of Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York; St. Michael and the Dragon ; and the " Pelican in her piety," to use the picturesque expression employed in heraldry to describe a pelican feeding her young. It is to the fine vaulted roof of its nave that Sherborne Abbey owes much of its beaut}'. It adds height to the entire church, and bestows grace and lightness where they were most needed. The choir of Sherborne Abbey is very fine and interesting. So large a sum — £18,000 — was spent upon its restoration by the late Earl Digby that it was Doechebter.] CARVED WORK. 43 inevitable it should bear traces of sweeping and garnishing. It leaves the im- pression of being a little too "smart;" but no violence appeal's to have been done to the ancient features. The beautiful rout is famous for its grace and elegance, and for the wealth of its enrichments. It is a groined rout' with cinquefoil panels; and the bosses and badges have been coloured, and the com- partments picked out with gold and brown. The fan-vaulting is sown about with lilies, the emblem of St. Mary, to whom the church is dedicated. Some portions of the walls still bear obvious marks of the lire which destroyed a, great part of the church in 1436. The miserere-carvinsrs are among the most interesting things in the building. The work is rude, no doubt, but it is bold and effective, difficult conceptions, such as the fantastic figure of Christ upon a Rainbow, being graphically executed with a few vigorous lines. There are some grotesque heads, and an ascetic-looking face, reputed to be a portrait of one of the abbots. One of the misereres is carved with foliage, very freely and delicately. But the most curious of these carvings is one wherein a schoolmaster or mistress is administer- ing the dorsi disciplina to a scholar whose facial contortions are exceedingly expressive. In the Chartres "Book of Hours" — " Les Petites Heures a l'Usage de Chartres" — printed in 1526, there is a very similar illustration. By far the finest piece of painted glass in the church is the "Te Deum " window, so called from its subject, in the south transept. It was designed by Mr. A. W. Pugin, and its harmony and limpidity of colour have rarely been equalled in modern work. When the setting sun falls upon it the effect is such as you rarely see. Beneath this window is a tablet commemorating Robert and Mary Digby, children of William, Lord Digbv, who died, the one in 1726, the other three years later. The greater part of the slab is filled by an epitaph written by Pope, who sometimes visited Lord Digby. It differs curiously from the versions of it printed in Pope's works; but the merit of all the versions is singularly small. In the beautiful vaulted ambulatory behind the choir are reported to have been buried two famous Kings of Wessex ; and a small brass of recent fixing thus records the tradition, which, be it said, is well founded: "Near this spot were interred the mortal remains of Ethelbald, and Ethelbert his brother, each of whom in his turn succeeded to the throne of Lthelwulf their father, King of the West Saxons, and were succeeded in the kingdom by their next brother, Alfred the Great." Prom the roof of the central tower there is a pleasant view over the picturesquely broken ground which extends for many miles around Sherborne. In the ringing-chamber below hang the ten bells — a sanctus bell, a lire bell, and a peal of eight. The tenor is the smallest of seven sweet-toned bells imported from Tournai, and, as has been said, was the gift of Cardinal Wolscy. It is a little 44 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [SltElillOUNE ANT> under three tons in weight, and, although it has been twice recast, it still bears th tie inscription :- " By Wolsey's gift I measure time for all, To mirth, to grief, to church I serve to call. The allusion to the measurement of time is explained by the fact that it is this bell which strikes the hours, with a deep but sweet and melodious note. The fire bell was recast in 1652, and is of such unusual shape that it makes an 1 DORCHESTER : THE ARRET. PROM LITTLE WlTTENlt AM. unspeakably hide- ous clangour. It is still rung when there is a fire in the town. The in- scription upon it is an odd mixture of piety and practical exhortation : — Lord, quench this fu- rious flame ! Arise ! run ! help ! put out the same." Sherborne has seen some strange ups and downs of fortune. In early ages alternately splendid and inconsiderable, it has for more than three centuries lived a quiet, unchequered existence, broken only by Fairfax's siege of the castle in 164o. The town first emerges from obscurity at the beginning of the eighth century, when ina, King of Wessex, dissociated Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, Somerset, Wilts, and Berks from the see of Winchester, and erected those counties into a separate bishopric with its seat at Sherborne. The sainted Aldhelm, who in learning and knowledge of the arts was centuries in advance of his time, was the first bishop. He it was who first translated the Latin Psalter into Saxon; for him was made the first organ which ever pealed forth Dorchester.] BISHOP ALDHELM. 45 a litany in England. Aldhelm, indeed, was one of the most energetic men of his age. lie founded three monasteries, and suggested the building of Glastonbury. Do o J His learning in theology was as remarkable as his accomplishment in poetry and music. A line of five-and-twenty Bishops of Sherborne followed him, but shortly DORCHESTER: THE CHOIR. after tbe Conquest Sherborne ceased to be a bishopric, Herman, the last bishop, removing tbe see, to Old Sarum, where lie commenced the building of tbe cathedral. For something more than half a century after the removal of the bishopric the prosperity of Sherborne languished; but in 11.'!!) Roger, Bishop of Sarum, founded an abbey here, and assigned the cathedral to be the church of the monastery. For three hundred years after its foundation the records of the abbey are of the most meagre. But about the middle of the fifteenth century there happened a tragical event which could hardly escape the pen of the chronicler. The ill-feeling, common enough before the Reformation, between the secular and 46 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Sherbohne and the regular clergy had lasted for sonic four cen- turies; during the fourteenth century it began to stow more acute, and it ended at last in the almost total destruction of the beautiful minster. The monks removed the abbey font from its proper position near the porch, and did other things which so grievously annoyed the towns- people that they complained to the bishop, who ordered that the font should be restored to its an- cient place. In the meantime a new one had been placed in the parish church. This the monks en- deavoured to displace; whereupon there was a riot, the new font was smashed, the abbey was set on fire, and only the bare walls were left standing. The minster was thoroughly restored in the second half of the fifteenth century by Abbot Peter de Rampisham, whose penultimate successor, John Barnstaple, surrendered the abbey in 1535 to the Royal Commissioners. The days of the abbey's glory had then long been over; for of the three hundred Benedictine monks who once daily took their seats in its choir, eighteen only now remained. It happened, fortunately for posterity, that the parish church was at this time much decayed; and the parishioners decided to pull it down and to purchase the minster from Sir John Horsey, to whom it had been granted. The price they paid for this beautiful example of Decorated architecture, with its memories of centuries of devotion, was £230! For over thirty years the church was under restoration; and the works 'were only completed in 1885. Remains of the; old monastery ma)' be traced among the buildings occupied by tin/ King's School, raised by the late Dr. Harper to a very high position. DORCHESTER : THE SOUTH AISLE. It is a far cry across three counties from Sherborne in Dorset to Dor- chester in Oxfordshire; yet, in heptarchical times, both were bishop-stools in the great kingdom of Wessex, which extended from Cornwall to Berkshire. To- day Dorchester is a pretty village of three or four streets, standing upon slightly elevated land above the flat meadows in the neighbourhood of Abingdon, and principally known to boating-men, and to a, few antiquaries who come to visit the majestic abbey. Dorchester is a charming spot, with its glimpses of well- wooded country, and with the' round-headed Sinodun Hill rising ayont the swoon- ins: waters of the Thames, where "Beauteous Isis ami tier husband Thame With mingled waves for ever Mow tin' same." Dorchester] A BAD BISHOP. 47 The long, low nave of the ancient abbey, with its sturdy conical-roofed red tower and its background of trees, is a very picturesque object as seen from the river. Vast indeed have been the changes in the fortunes of Dorchester. Not only was it the seat of a bishopric, but, according to Bede, it contained many tine churches, no vestiges of which now remain. It was in 639 that Birinus, the afterwards canonised apostle of the West Saxons, converted Cynegils, King of Wessex, and baptised him into the Church at Dorchester. About that time the bishopric was founded, and the emissary of Pope Honorius was consecrated first Bishop. It was always a very extensive diocese, and in the time of Edward the Confessor it stretched from the Thames to the Dumber, and was the largest diocese in England. The bishopric was held by a long succession of learned and energetic prelates; but, as not infrequently happened in the early days of the Church, the mitre of Dorchester was sometimes worn bv men who were desti- tute alike of learning and of piety, and lived unseemly and scandalous lives. Of such was Bishop Ulf, a Norman, appointed to the see in 1049 by Edward the Confessor, who had a bad habit of giving bishoprics to foreigners. Ulf seems to have been the most unfit of men for a prelate; indeed, the chronicles of the time record that he "did nought bishop-like." So intense was his ignorance that he could hardly read the Psalter or sing a mass. When he went to Rome Pope Leo was beside himself with anger that such a, man should have been set over the greatest diocese in England, and he went very near to depriving IJlf of his see. But Ulf was a. master of the art of judicious bribery, and some portion of his great episcopal revenues, artfully spent among those who surrounded the Pope, made him safe in his bishopric. Before this time the see had been removed to Sidnacester ; but after a while it was restored to Dorchester, whence it was ultimately transferred, in 108G or 1088 — authorities vary as to the precise date — to Lincoln. Of all Dorchester's state and conse- quence, nothing now remains save the abbey. Henry of Huntingdon places it fourteenth in importance upon his list of the twenty-eight British cities; but its population is now little more than a thousand. It is impossible to assign a date, or even a period, to Dorchester Abbey, for it forms a picturesque, and, architecturally, a most interesting mixture of styles, ranging from Norman work, which nun' perhaps date from a few years before the Conquest, to Tudor. The finest near glimpse of the church is to be obtained from the lych-gate at the western end of the churchyard, which is overshadowed by a chestnut-tree remarkable for its magnificent proportions even in a neighbourhood famous for the luxuriance of these trees. This tree, with the massive grey Avails of tin 1 abbey beyond, forms one of the "bits" which artists love. The south porch is a peculiarly handsome example of Tudor work in stone, with a timbered roof. Viewed from the southern 4S AIUIEYS AND CHURCHES. [SlIEltl'.OJlNE AND entrance, tlie interior of the abbey is heavy and sombre, the nave being divided into two parts by the tower. But this impression of heaviness wears off so soon as the eye begins to appreciate the fine proportions of the church. The roofs, in particular, are exceedingly beautiful. That of the nave is supported upon graceful clustered columns. The lightness and elegance of the groined roof of the Lady Chapel are famous. The abbey is somewhat smaller than that of DORCHESTER: THE CHANCEL. Sherborne. It stands ]19tli upon Lord Grrimthorpe's list of great English churches, and is, without the tower, 187 feet long, with a superficial area, of 10,000 square feet. Just inside the south door stands the ancient leaden font, which dates from Norman days. The figures of the Apostles — minus, of course, Judas — are cut in high relief round the bowl. ISeyond the tower is the Lady Chapel, of the roof of which I have made mention. Formerly there were a great number of altar-tombs in this chapel, but four only now remain. Two of them Dorohestbh.] THE JESSE WINDOW. 49 are tombs of Crusaders, their feet resting upon lioncels. One represents a knight of the Segrave family; on the other the Crusader, whose countenance is hardly prepossessing, is in the act of drawing his dagger. Jn the floor near by is the brass of Richard Bewforest, who in 1554 purchased the abbey church from the grantee for £140, and presented it to the parish. A plain brass in this chapel to one Thomas Day. who died in 1693, bears an inscription which deserves a plaee in any list of curious epitaphs: — " Sweet Death lie came in Hast i saiil liis glass is run ; Thou art ye man i say, See what thy God has done." The altar here is a memorial to Bishop Wilberforce of Winchester. One of the best of the few remaining brasses is in the choir, and com- memorates another member of the Bewforest family, who is vested with a cope, and bears a crozier in his hand. The famous "Jesse Window" is on the north side of the choir. It is a pedigree in stone of the line of Jesse. The genealogical tree has its root in the body of Jesse, and each of the pro- genitors of Christ is represented by a small figure in stone; but the figures of Christ and His mother have unfortunately been destroyed. The ancient painted glass in the window contains figures of the chief members of the line of David. Notwithstanding that the window — one of the most remarkable of our ecclesias- tical antiquities — is fourteenth century work, it is in very good preservation. Dorchester Abbey, indeed, is richer in old painted glass than most of our churches. The building lias long been intermittently under restoration. The work was commenced by Sir Gilbert Scott; but much yet remains to be done. With the exception of the National School, which is believed to have been the refectory of the abbey, no vestige of the monastic buildings remains ; hut some sculptured stones, which are conjectured to have formed part of the enrich- ments of those buildings, have been removed from a house in the village, and are to be built into the fabric of the church. , D ,,, ,, ,,,.,,,„ J. 1 ENDEKEL-15R0DHUKST. II LUTTERWORTH. THE BURIAL PLACE OF AN EARLY REFORMER. T UTTERWOE.TH, at the present day, is a quiet little country town, numbering -" some two thousand inhabitants. As its records prove that it has increased greatly since the year 15(14, when the population did not much exceed tive hundred, it was probably hardly mere than a large village in the days of Wiclif. The country round is generally undulating, furrowed here and there a little THE CHUltC'H AND CHURCHYARD. more deeply, though not very constantly, with small valleys. The land is almost wholly in pasture, and frequent trees pleasantly diversify scenery which would otherwise be rather monotonous. It is, in short, a very characteristic bit of the English midlands, among the grass-lands dear to the fox-hunter; and at the present day a meet of the hounds seems to be the chief event that stirs the quiet streets of Lutterworth into a brief excitement. Though so old a place, there is little to be seen, except the church, which can lay claim to an antiquity so far back as the end of the seventeenth century. The church, with the rectory and a. part of the town, stands on the edge of the upland. Thence the ground slopes down towards the margin of a stream -the little river Swift, so inseparably connected with the memory of Wiclif. The main street of Lutterworth LUITEUWOUTH.] THE SWIFT. 51 descends the hill, gently at first, then more rapidly, till, as the houses cease, it reaches the tiny flat by the river-side. Here a small bridge carries the mad over the stream. Just above it the water is parted to turn a mill, a com- paratively modern building, but probably occupying an ancient site; below, the united water forms a stream some four or five yards wide, and perhaps a foot deep, which flows rapidly, as the name implies; little reaches of level water alternating with rippled intervals as it descends towards the Avon. Houses, bridge, trees — everything is more modern than the days of Wiclif, now separ- ated from us by half a thousand years ; but there is every probability that the street along which he walked followed the lines of that which we tread to-day, and that a bridge then crossed the river at about the same spot as the present one. From its parapet, most likely, his ashes -were cast into the river, for below this its waters flow more rapidly, and the channel enters at once into the open country. But for any structure contemporary with John Wiclif we must betake ourselves to the church. That, as has been said, stands on the more level ground at the top of the slope, being situated just on the margin of the town. It is a handsome, fairly large building, a good specimen of an English parish church; the greater part of it dating from the fourteenth century. The tower was formerly surmounted by a slender wooden spire — destroyed in the great gale of 1704 — but is now terminated by a belfry stage, surmounted by four large crocheted pinnacles. This was either added after the fall of the spire, or has been modernised ; and though it looks well from a distance, docs not bear near inspection. The lower part of the tower is massive, and, as it termiiates in a band of quatrefoiled panelling, was probably once a rather low one. The church consists of a nave — lighted by a clerestory — together with aisles, separated from it by rather high arches. The style is Early Perpendicular, but at the eastern end of the south aisle, where was formerly a Lady Chapel, is a good Decorated window. The chancel also is a Perpendicular building, but there are an Early English (restored) window and door on the south side, together with a piscina and ambry at the eastern end, all of earlier date, so that at least the lower part of the walls is much older than the days of Wiclif. The church is built largely of pebbles of a hard, fine grit, with sandstone coigns, &c. It was "repaired and beautified" in the last century, and some twenty years since was restored by Sir Gilbert Scott. Much new stone was then inserted, the walls were pointed, and many repairs and some additions, then and subsequently, were made. As will be inferred from the above brief description, it is not easy to be sure how much of the present church belongs to that in which Wiclif ministered. The best authorities, however, are satislied that the greater part of the nave and bZ ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Lutterworth. aisles was standing in his days, though the fabric cannot have been long- com- pleted. The upper part of the chancel is probably later, but the lower, with the western tower, is undoubtedly older. The main entrance to the church is on the south side, where a porch has recently been added, but there is another, though a smaller one, on the north. IYER THE SYVIIT. This is the shortest mode of approach from the rectory, which stands on the north side of the churchyard. The present house is modern, for it was built by Bishop Ryder, who held the living for about fifteen years, resigning it on his conse- cration as Bishop of Gloucester in 1816; but Ave are informed that the rectory- house lias always occupied the same situation. On this side of the churchyard are four aged elms, but old though they are, we fear they cannot claim to have numbered live centuries. On entering the church, we see above this northern doorway a fresco of remarkable interest, representing a queen standing between two men wearing royal crowns. According to the old verger's story, it is Queen Philippa, supported by John of Gaunt, asking Edward III. to give Wiclif the living of Lutterworth, an interpretation which, we fear, has been read into the picture. Others consider the male figures to represent Edward II. and Edward III. The style of execution is that of the middle rather than of the latter part of the fourteenth century, and thus adds to the probability of the church being earlier than the date of Wiclif's incumbency (1375-1384). Passing onward into the church, Ave note another fresco, no less remarkable, on the blank wall over LuTTUKWOHTir.] THE IVICLIF PULPIT. 53 tlio chancel arch. Tt represents the Saviour in glory seated on a rainbow above the "glassy sea." On either side arc two angels, one of each pair blowing a trumpet over a brown plain supposed to represent the earth, from which the graves are giving up their dead in various stages of transition, from the dry bones to the new body. The root' of the nave will divide attention with this interesting specimen of medheval art, as a fine specimen of Perpendicular woodwork. The pulpit, however, which is placed almost in front of a curious "squint" on the north side of the chancel, is naturally the firs! object of the visitor's attention. It would he noteworthy anywhere as a good specimen of ancient carving in oak, but here it lias a special interest as claiming to be that from which the Reformer preached. There seems no reason to doubt that it is a piece of fourteenth century work, and from the style we should regard it as older than the last twenty-five years of that period. It has, of course, been much repaired, and the base has been renewed, but in all probability the rectors of Lutterworth have delivered the Gospel, as understood by them, from this pulpit for more than five hundred years. Beneath a glass case in the vestry is shown a fragment of a cope or chasuble of embroidered velvet, also associated with the Reformer's name. Undoubtedly it is a vestment of great antiquity, and may very well have been worn by him. The same cannot be said of " Wiclif "s chair," now placed on the north side of the communion- table, in which, as the story is told, he was carried from the church to his house when stricken down by the fatal paralysis. It must be of a considerably later date. So also are a pair of gilded wooden candlesticks, placed on the communion-table, and a grand old table with carved supports, " where he sat to write his translation of the Bible," now standing near the west end of the church. The last would deserve notice anywhere, but we should be surprised if it were much older than the dissolution of the monasteries. Copies of Wiclif s translation, and an old THE WICLIF l'ULl'IT. 54 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [XjUTTEKAVOUTH. edition of Foxe's " Book of Martyrs," are placed upon it, and on a neighbour- ing wall hangs a copy of the Wiclif portrait now in the possession of the Earl of Denbigh. < )n the north wall, near the eastern end of that aisle, is a mural monument to the memory of Wiclif, with a bas-relief by Westmacott, erected m the year 1837; and to the west of it is an interesting alabaster tomb, com- memorating two members of the Feilding family. In the floor near is a small brass, said to mark the graves of the same couple, from which it appears that John Feilding died in 1403, and his wife Joanna in 1418. In any case the monu- ment is of later date than the death of Wiclif. It is needless to linger over other interesting features of the church; suffice it to say that it contains some modern stained glass and mural paintings, and that the restoration was thorough. We must turn now from this quiet Leicestershire village to sketch briefly the life of the illustrious man to whom, from a fortunate juncture of circum- stances, it proved a secure haven in the evening of Ins days. John \\ u-hf was born in Yorkshire, not far from Richmond, the exacl locality being a sub- ject of dispute. Even the year of his birth is not certain, but it is believed to be 1324. Of his childhood we know nothing; probably he received his education in some neighbouring school. But there is no doubt that his university career was one of high distinction. That is admitted by his enemies, one of whom — Ivnmhtoii, a canon of Leicester, and contemporary with Wiclif — speaks of him as second to none m philosophy, and "in scholastic disci- pline altogether incomparable." In addition to the schoolmen, lie studied deeply the writers on the civil and the canon law; he was well read in patristic theology, especially in the works of St. Augustine and St. Jerome, of St. Basil and St. Gregory. Well was it lor him that he underwent this training before devoting himself more especially to the study of the sacred volume, because it not only gave him that skill in fence and perfect mastery of dialectics which made him a champion whom his adversaries could not afford to despise or dare to disparage, but also by strengthening his intellectual powers, disciplining his imagination, and broadening his mental horizon, prevented him from running into extravagances and exposing himself to attack, as did so many of the earlier, more unlettered Reformers. John Wiclif, like every man who sets himself up as a reformer of gross abuses, had for Ins opponents men sufficiently masters of phrases, "full of wise saws and modern instances," and sufficiently acute in intellect, to avail themselves of every slip of headlong zeal, to distort the meaning of unguarded admissions or hasty expressions, so as not only to unite against him the Pharisees of Rome and the Herodians of the Court, but also to bring him into a wider suspicion and disfavour, by representing him to the sincerely religious as an infidel, and to the party of order as an anarchist. Wiclif's lot was cast in evil days. Lor years the moral condition of the LuiTEmvor.TH.] AN APPEAL TO C/ESAR. 55 Papacy had gone on from bad to worse. There were times when earnest men might have been pardoned had they beheld Anti-Chrisl in him who occupied the "chair ot Peter." The voice of protest for righteousness' sake had indeed been raised from time to time, only to be silenced, often with every re- finement of cruelty. The Waldenses and Albigenses were examples of Low Rome dealt with her censors and brought back the wanderers from her fold, of how she interpreted and obeyed the precepts of her Master. Moreover, the hands of the Pope and his coterie had been greatly strengthened for evil by a new agency, the mendicant friars. Thus the task which confronted Wiclif, when first his mind began to realise the evils by which he was surrounded, was one which by its difficulty might have daunted, by its danger might have ap- palled, any ordinary man. His first open protest, his declaration of war against the corruption of the Church, was the publication, in the year 1356, of a short tract entitled "The Last Age of the Church." The " Black Death," which a few years before had swept across Europe, and had ended by devastating England, had stirred deeply the minds of men, who saw in it, and in the general corruption of the Church, the signs of the end of the world. It would be impossible to give, in the space at our disposal, any account of even the writings of Wiclif which have come down to us; suffice it to say that he continued to pour forth a host of tracts, chiefly polemical, but that his most important work was the translation of the Bible — accomplished with the assistance of others — to which the closing years of his life were especially devoted. He was not without honour among his contemporaries at Oxford. Probably his attacks upon the hated friars atoned for any suspected "unsoundness" in his views. He was presented by Balliol College to a living in Lincolnshire, and was shortly afterwards made their warden, a post which he held for four years, and then resigned it to take the oversight of Canterbury Hall, recently founded by Simon Islip, Archbishop of Canterbury; but, though presented by the founder, he was ejected by Islip's successor — a partisan of the monies. It is needless to detail the particulars of the case; suffice it to say that Wiclif appealed to the Pope, having apparently not yet realised that Rome was the last place to look to for justice, and that as a matter of course his appeal was un- successful. He continued, however, to reside much at Oxford, took the degree of Doctor of Divinity, and gave lectures. His skill in law as well as divinity had now rendered his name so eminent that he was sent to Bruges to confer with the Commissioners of the Pope on several grave matters in dispute between him and the King of England. This conference lasted for more than a year, and the mission promised to he successful. The Commissioners were obliged to admit the illegality of several of the Papal claims. The withdrawal of these 5(5 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [LvTTElUVOllTH. WICLIF. (From the Fortran at King's College, Cambridge.) was promised ; it is perhaps needless to add that the agreement was only observed so long as it was safer to keep than to break it. From Bruges, however, Wiclif returned with a clearer notion than ever of where the responsibility for the vices of the Church really rested, and henceforth he spoke with a yet plainer voice. In the end of the year 1375 he received from the Crown (patrons during a minority) the living of Lutterworth, but at first continued his residence in Oxford. He was now becom- ing so formidable an enemy that it appeared necessary to make an attempt to silence him. This failed, through the protection afforded him by John of Gaunt; another one the next year (1378) was defeated by the favour of the Queen-Mother. The tide of favour, however, before long began to turn. Wiclif's attacks on Rome be- came more distinctly theological. He wrote on the Eucharist, and his views were con- demned. Measures also wen 1 taken against the Poor Preachers, who wandered about the country disseminating the doctrines which he maintained. At last John of Gaunt withdrew his support, or at any rate his open support. Wiclif was summoned before a Convocation at Oxford, and ultimately banished from the university, which he finally quitted in the year 1383, and took up his residence at Lutter- worth. So far as we know, he did not again leave this retreat. A Papal mis- sive indeed summoned him to home, but he pleaded ill-health as a reason for not obeying the command. It was, in fact, evident to all that the fiery sword had nearly worn through the scabbard. He laboured on at his task of spread- ing the Gospel, but the hand of death was now, as it appeared, fighting the battle of his enemies. He had already been attacked by paralysis, and at last, on December 29th, he was stricken down in church by another seizure. < >n the second day after the attack, on the last day of the year 1384, he fell asleep. He was buried in Lutterworth Church, probably in the chancel, and there his hones rested for some thirty years. Then was held the Famous Council of Constance. That notorious conclave in the quiet German town by the lake-side has an ill name even among ecclesiastical gatherings; and as Pome was now thoroughly alarmed, and deemed itself strong enough, its emissaries set to work to extirpate heresy. The "Morning Star" was not forgotten; Wiclif's doctrines were formally condemned, and an order given to howk up his hones and cast them out of hallowed ground. This petty insult was executed, though not Lv TTERWORTn. ] THE DAY OF RECKONING. for some years. The grave was opened, the Reformer's bones— or somebody's bones — wore duly dug up, burned, and the ashes cast into the Swift. "This brook hath conveyed his ashes into Avon, Avon into Severn, Severn into the narrow seas, they into the main ocean ; and thus the ashes of Wielif are the emblem of his doctrine, which is now dispersed all the world over." "Which things are an allegory" indeed. Wielif died in obscurity, his life's work, as it seemed, a failure. J lis enemies triumphed, they persecuted his followers, torturing and burning in the name of Christ, and for nearly a century and a, half truth seemed worsted by error, and God's ear deaf to the cry of the suffering. But all the time the seed was growing 1 , though few regarded it. The servants of the Pope might increase the splendour of their churches and of their ceremonials, but more and more men looked askance and quoted inconvenient passages of Scripture. They might execute heretics, but the proverb, sanguis martyrum semen Ecclesiw, was to come true in the Church's despite, and heresy, as they called it, seemed hydra-headed. At last the appointed season came; the yoke of a foreign prelate was cast off the neck of the English people, and their Church, except for one brief interval and an occasional wavering, has ever since rejoiced to be numbered among the Reformed Churches. Thus the "Morning Star of the Reformation" proved to be no fitful gleam in the darkness of night, but the harbinger of a brighter day, the forerunner of that light which it is our privilege to enjoy. 'p. G Bonney. ' WICLIF S CHAIR.' HEXHAM. A B R 1> ER ABBE Y. A DISTANT view of Hexham is always charming : whether it be from the woods of St. John Lee on the north, the steep banks on the south, the long-, level sweep of the True valley on the east, or the bold rise of Warden Hill en the west, the prospect is one that cannot fail to delight the traveller. The old town nestles down at the foot of an amphitheatre of surrounding hills, and the broad Tyne sweeps past it, always changing and always beautiful. In summer a clear and occasionally shallow stream, in winter often a. mighty, roaring flood, but still the same old river which has seen so many changes on its banks, from the days when the Romans carried their Watling Street up to its southern bank and crossed it with a fine long bridge, to the days when the dreadful floods of 1771 swept it elear of all bridges save that at Corbridge. The most conspicuous building in the town is the Abbey Church, a battered and sombre-looking edifice; but the hoary appearance of its time-worn walls gives it a romantic interest not shared by many more beautiful southern churches with their tall spires and rich traceries. Its one tower is low, broad, and spire- less; its roofs long and Hat, their somewhat monotonous outline being broken only by a few rugged pinnacles. East of the church two sturdy and stern-look- ing towers are to be seen rising above the general level of the houses: the silent evidences that in former days the offices of religion had often to be protected by force of arms. On a nearer approach the old town reveals more of its character. Its streets are narrow and irregular, and in some parts steeply inclined. They all lead to the market-place, which occupies the centre of the town, and contains the shambles, a. hundred and fifty years old, with stone colonnade and moss-covered roof. Many of the bouses are small and ancient, with dates and the initials of former owners, long since dead and forerotten, cut on the lintels of the doorways; and there still remain a few heather-thatched roofs, now green with moss, and fast decaying. Richard, Prior of Hexham from 1 1 t2 to about 1160, was a. man of con- siderable literary ability, and, amongst other works, he wrote a history of the church over which he ruled. He tells us that in his day the town was ''moderate in size and thinly inhabited, but formerly ample and magnificent, as the vestiges of antiquity testify." In 674, Queen Etheldreda, the wife of Ecgfrid, King of Northumbria, gave to St. Wilfrid land which had formed a portion of her dower. Tliis comprised the district known as Hexhamshire, and included the parishes of Hexham, Allendale, and St. John Lee. St. Wilfrid founded a monastery and built a church, which, according to the old chroniclers, must have been one Hexham.] EARLY DAYS. 59 of the largest and most beautiful to be found in England at that time. It had a crypt and underground passages, porches, towers, and winding staircases, as well as galleries in the walls at various heights. There were many chapels, HIE EXTLKIiiu. both on the floor and in the galleries above, and these contained altars dedi- cated to Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors, and Virgins, all the altars being most sumptuously furnished with vessels and vestments, while the walls were covered with paintings and carvings in relief. In 681 Hexham was made a see dependent on York, and its beautiful church became a cathedral, with the right of sanctuary. The old stone seat, called the " Fridstool " or "seat of peace," still remains. It was probably the bishop's throne of the Saxon cathedral, but up to the time of the abolition of sanctuary it was used as the goal to which the fugitive criminal directed his steps in order that he might be under the protection of the Church; and being seated in it, none dared molest him. The sanctuary extended for a mile from the church in all directions, and four crosses were erected at the four points of the compass to mark its boundaries. The sites of two of these crosses are known, and a fragment of one of them is in existence. The north cross was at first placed in the river, in mid-stream ; but we are told that Walter Biwell GO ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Hexham. chaplain to Bernard de Balliol, had arrested many persons, with their substance, while crossing the river, and these complaining to the archbishop, he had the cross placed on the northern bank of the stream. St. Wilfrid was a man of mark in his day, and was consecrated archbishop of the northern province. His haughty manner and determined disposition made him many enemies, and lie was twice exiled from his diocese; but he lived long enough to survive his troubles, and died peacefully at Ripon in 709. Eleven bishops followed him, and then the see of Hagustald, as Hexham was then called, came to an end; why, we know not, nor does Prior Richard seem to have known, for he says that it had ceased fifty years before the devastation of Northumberland by Haldane the Dane in 875. The beautiful cathedral was destroyed by the Scandinavian marauders, and the priests and people were either murdered or driven from their homes. At this time someone buried a large bronze vessel containing about twelve thousand of the small bronze coins used by the Saxons, and called stycas. This treasure lav concealed until 1832, when it was found, eight feet from the surface, in digging an unusually deep grave. After a time, peace and order again prevailed in Northumbria, but the church of Hexham was left a battered shell, which, its one poor priest repaired as well as he could so that he might say mass in it. In this miserable condition it remained until after the Norman Conquest had changed the affairs of the nation, and the monastic system had become a great power. In 1113, Thomas the Second, Archbishop of York, founded here a priory of canons-regular of St. Augustine, or black canons, as they were commonly called. The} - were at first miserably poor, and few in number ; but wealth, lands, and many privileges soon fell largely to their share, and their numbers steadily increased till the close of the thirteenth century, when Hexham wis one of the largest and most influential of the monastic houses in all the Border country. The Austin Canons at first repaired the old church of St. Wilfrid's day, and built domestic offices of wood. It is evident that from the early days of their establishment at Hexham, the canons saw how hazardous was their position, close to the wild borderland; for the first of their new buildings was a strong gateway on the north side of their enclosure, which was surrounded by a thick, high wall. These erections still to a large extent remain, and from their style we may con- clude that they were begun directly after the Battle of the Standard, fought at Northallerton in 1138. in marching southwards, on this occasion, the Scots had halted at Hexham, and though they pillaged the town and neighbourhood, King David had interfered on behalf of the abbey, and no harm befell it; but the canons had learnt how necessary it was that they should have some strong means of defending 1 themselves against such troublesome neighbours. Some [Tex A TIMELY FOG ill years before this event, Hexham had had a narrow escape when King Malcolm was in the neighbourhood. Being enraged by the murder of some of his emissaries, he determined to sack the abbey, and sent the tierce men of Galloway to carry out his evil purpose. Poor Eilaf, the priest, prayed to be delivered from their TRANSEPT AND DORMITORY. hands, and dreamed that he saw St. Wilfrid, along with St. Cuthbert, riding to his rescue. St. Cuthbert promised to spread a net to catch the Scots; and on the morrow such a dense fog tilled the valley of the Tyne that they lost their way and spent days in fruitless wanderings among the hills; and when the fog rolled away the)' found that the river was so swollen with flood-water that they could not cress, and so Hexham was saved. Even before the close of the twelfth century the abbey had become a wealthy and influential house, and the old Saxon buildings of St. Wilfrid's time were superseded by an entirely new church, with all the usual domestic offices. Prior Richax'd tells us how the canons hail at first repaired and ''built upon the ruins of many edifices which waste and devastation have destroyed." Inasmuch as all the documents which may have mentioned the rebuilding of the abbey have perished, we can only tell the story of its rise from the stones themselves. As the crypt of the earlier church is under the present tower, we suppose that the new church occupied the same ground as its predecessor, and furthermore we can discern that the old church was maintained as long as possible while the new one was (32 ABBEYS AND CHURCH EH. [Hexham. being built. About 11?.") the aisle walls of the choir were raised, and no doubt their foundations were laid outside St. Wilfrid's Church, which would be some- what .smaller than the new building. Then the foundations of the great pillars would be laid, and the new and spacious choir carried on till the clerestory was reached. All this would take many years to build, for the upper portion of the choir cannot well be earlier than 1210. Then followed the long and noble transepts, with all their line arcades and boldly designed flanks and end walls. Then, where the wings meet each other in a common centre, the tower rose to a height of a hundred feet, and the new church was ready for dedication, due choir, in which the high altar stood, served for the frequent services of the canons; the transepts, for the smaller altars ami for the parish sermon; for there was no nave, it being left to future years to complete the great church accord- ing to the plan laid down. The chapter-house, common-house, and dormitory were all built on the east side of the cloister garth; the fratrv, or dining hall, and the kitchen, on the south ; and the great guest-hall and cellars for stores, on the west. On the north side a thick and high wall was built to serve as a shelter from the cold winds, and to form the lower portion of the nave wall when it should be carried on. The prior's house stood on the west side of the cloister, and the infirmary on the east. The canons now enjoyed a period of rest and peace. Their buildings were extensive and convenient, and we can picture them pacing the alleys of their cloister in calm contemplation; or attending the constant services in their choir; or dining in the long and lofty fratry, with its beautiful windows of rich tracery; or warming themselves over the common-room tire while they discussed the passing events of the day. Ever and anon they would leave the quiet cloister and go out into the town on some errand of mercy, or up to their chapel of St. Oswald on the Roman wall, or down the Tyne to their dependent cell at Ovingham. But this period of quietude was only the forerunner of a terrible calamity which was to overwhelm both abbey and town, and all the surrounding villages and homesteads, and lay them waste and desolate. Scarcely were the large and handsome fratrv and the exquisitely beautiful lavatory — the parts left to the last- finished, when the cruel Scots came rushing down the valleys of the Rede and Tyne, burning and destroying all that lav in their path. The little nunnery at Lambley, on the South Tyne, was utterly destroyed, and the nuns butchered. The beautiful priory of Lanercost, on the L'thing, was tired, and its inmates compelled to fly for their lives. Then Hexham was reached, and terrible were the destruction and desecration, and horrible were the cruelties, which the savage men of Galloway perpetrated there. The abbey and church were burned and rifled from end to end; all the shrines and tin 1 altar we're stripped of their valuables, and the much-prized relics of the saints were Hexham.] DISSOLUTION. 63 thrown into the flames. In the grammar school, which seems to have "boon within the precincts of the abbey, two hundred poor scholars wore roasted alive; for, with fiendish glee, the barbarians fastened up the doors and tired the buildings. The library and muniments, and everything that could be burned, shared a similar fate. In the following autumn another inroad was made under William Wallace, when everything that had been left was destroyed or carried off. Two canons, who had ventured to return to Hexham, had a narrow escape of their lives as they celebrated mass in their church; and the ruffians even seized the chalice and mass-book from off the altar. The palmy days of the abbey seem to have passed away for ever, for during the first half of the fourteenth century the inroads of the Scots were frequent and disastrous. During the reign of Edward II., the weakest of English monarchs, they ran riot over all the northern province, and the resources of the abbey were drained away till the poor canons were reduced to the most absolute poverty. After the battle of Nevill's Cross in 1346, when David of Scotland was taken prisoner and his army completely routed, the power of the Scots was broken, and a period of peace followed. The Abbey of Hexham re- covered itself to a great extent, and many grants of lands were made to it. The church was repaired, and a new roof added to it, and in the course of the next century many things were done to beautify its interior. The nave appears to have been begun about this time, but was again abandoned for lack of means to carry out so large a work. Though the abbey held up its head and main- tained its proper position among other northern monastic houses, its revenues were much more straitened than in former years, and were not sufficient to allow of any extensive building. Scarcely had the troubles brought on by the Scots been passed by in the ceaseless roll of time, and forgotten, when dangers from another source threatened the canons. The sixteenth century bad hardly begun when the popu- larity of the monastic system commenced to wane. The influence of the monasteries had gradually declined during the last century and a half, and when the final blow which terminated their existence fell from the strong hand of Henry Mil., the greater portion of the people were not unwilling to see them fall. Hexham showed singular vitality to the very last, and instead of a tame official statement of surrender, which is all we know of the last days of man)' of the monasteries, Ave have an exciting story, bristling with incidents which read like a romance. In April, 1536, Archbishop Lee wrote to Mr. Secretary Cromwell to plead hard the cause of Hexham, and begged that it might be spared, both on account of its ancient renown, and also on account of its position on the Border, whereby it was of great use in serving as a house of call and entertainment for all persons 64 ABBEYS AND GHUEGHES. [Hexham. passing into Scotland. Ho pleaded in vain, for on the 28th of September four commissioners were sent to Hexham with power to suppress the abbey. When they came to Dilston, two miles further down the Tyne, they heard that the abbey at Hexham was garrisoned by the canons, who, with the Master of Ovingham as their leader, were ready to offer a most determined resistance. Two of the commissioners thought it were well to remain behind, but the other two rode on. When they entered the market-place a strange sight met their eyes. The town was full of people, many of them armed with such weapons as they had, while the gates and doors of the abbey were fast shut, and the canons, all arrayed in harness, with hows and artillery, were standing on the leads of the church and on the steeple, and when addressed by the commissioners, they boldly answered: "We he XX" brethren in this hous, and we shall dye all or y* shall ye have this hous." The commissioners replied advising them to con- sider well and take counsel together, and then answer them again. So the canons went into the abbey for a time, and then again appeared on the roof and repeated their determination not to surrender. With this answer the commis- sioners retired to Corbridge, while the canons with their servants and tenants marched out of the abbey "to a place called the Crone," where the)' remained till the commissioners were out of sight. Such resistance was sure to end in serious trouble to the poor canons, hut they might even yet have been pardoned had it not been for "the crafty devyse and subtile way conceyved by John Heron of Chipchase, otherwyse callyd Litle John Heron, to have the inhahitantes of Tvndall and Ilexhamshvrc to breyke." This scoundrel, who was a Border robber, exercised himself untiringly, and used every artifice, to persuade tin/ canons of Hexham to maintain their defensive position; he knowing that such was the surest means to bring about a rising in the north, by which he hoped to profit in the matter of booty, and to revenge himself on the Carnabys, who were devoted adherents of the king. Heron pre- tended tii mediate between the canons and Carnaby, hut by delivering false messages to both sides he achieved his wicked purpose of maintaining the canons in rebellion, along with the men of Tynedale and Hexhamshire. Early in the following year the prior of Hexham was hanged at Tyburn, and six of the canons appear to have suffered in a, similar manner. In 1538 the site of the priory was granted to Sir Reginald Carnaby, who died, without an heir, in 104.'!. The abbey church was kept in repair, but was not used as the parish church of the town until a century or more after the dissolution, as St. Mary's church was then in existence. Latterly large sums have been spent on so-called "restoration," in which numbers of the ancient monuments, and mam' of the most interesting features in and about this grand old church, have been wantonly destroyed. Charles Clement Hodges. STRATFORD-ON-AVON. THE CHURCH OV SHAKESPEARE. |~T is a fortunate, though rare, accident when the chief events in the life of -*- the few men who "like tall columns have risen above the dead level of humanity," all centre in a single country town. Then the fields, brooks, and groves of the neighbourhood, the houses and the quiet streets in the town, become insepar- ably associated with them, and seem brightened by some influence of the minds which they have aided in developing. Memories of the past are more readily recalled in the silence of the fields than amid the confusing bustle of the crowded city. Its thoughts and feelings are more easily appreciated when we are sur- rounded by the houses in which the men of its generations lived, and worked, and died, where the "still small voice" of the bygone age is not yet overpowered by the rush and the noise of our over-busy century. Thus the little country town becomes in the best sense of the word a place of pilgrimage; for in homage to the mighty dead there need lie no superstition, and there may lie a lesson for us in those manifold surroundings which cannot but have influenced their lives. With Stratford- on-Avon, that quiet, quaint, picturesque War- wickshire town, the memory of William Shake- speare is inseparably connected. He was born in one of its houses, he was taught in its school, he sowed his wild oats — perhaps rather freely — in its vicinity, he married, not wisely, we fear, from a neighbouring village ; and then, after an interval of years, when fame and competence had been attained, at a rate which must have surprised those who still remembered certain incidents of his youth, he returned to pass the remainder of his days in the handsome house which he had purchased, and lastly— while still in middle life— died, and was buried in the chancel of the parish church. But even if William Shakespeare had never lived or died at Stratford-on-Avon, j THE TOWEli, FROM THE RIVER. 66 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stratford-on-avon. the church of the Holy Trinity would merit notice as one of exceptional beauty and interest. It stands in a churchyard than which there arc few prettier in the kingdom. An avenue of old limes leads from the street to the porch ; along that path Shakespeare must have walked each Sunday to his place in the church. These very trees most probably even then bordered the path ; though perhaps hardly more than saplings, they were putting forth their leaves on that sad April day when his body was carried to its last home in the chancel. But there is a spot of yet greater beauty — a path which it is surely legitimate to associate with his memory, for no one who loved nature as he did could have failed to seek it often. Near the eastern end of the church hows the Avon, forming one boundary to the churchyard. By its side is a little terrace walk, overlooking the stream, and shadowed byline old elms. "On one side rises the church — spire, transepts, chancel, grouping themselves afresh at every step, through the leafy openings of overarching boughs, the shoots of bright green foliage contrasting with the grey old stones, worn, but not defaced, by the storms of centuries. On the other side the Avon slowly glides past the bridges and houses, past the green meadows on its opposite brink — ' Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage' — on through the broadening valleys till it mingles with the Severn's stream, and 'the river becomes a sea.' " * The church as a whole is much older than the days of Shakespeare. Except for two structural alterations, for some additional monuments, for some changes for better or for worse in the fittings, we see it nearly as he saw it. The town itself, as well as the church, carries us very far back in the history of England; the former, indeed, being much older than the material structure of the latter. We hear of Stratford some three centuries before the Norman Conquest; a church is mentioned in a document of the ninth century, though, of course, nothing of a fabric so ancient as this remains. The town obtained its name Stratford, or Stradford, from the ford on the river Avon, where it was crossed by the great "street" or high road leading from Henley- in- Arden to London. As now, so for centuries back, it seems to have been a, quietly prosperous place, probably more busy and more rapidly growing in the present than in any former generation ; one of those placid country towns where the burghers lived comfortable lives in comfortable houses, working well, but not too hard, taking their fair share of the pleasures of life — bread, beef, and beer, all of the best — yet thrifty withal, so that they commonly managed to leave more of this world's goods to their children than they had received from their fathers. Such a man — rather of the humbler order — William Shakespeare's father seems to have been; such a * " Picturesque Europe," vol. i., p. 75. Steatfohd-on-Avon.] THE INTERIOR. G7 our, when the heat of youth had somewhat cooled, he must have been in himself; quick to sec the beauties of nature, but not blind to those of his own species, given much to "high thinking," yet sometimes departing, not un- willingly, from the rule of "plain living." The church is cruciform, with a large chance] or choir, and a central steeple. The spire, visible from all the country round, rises to a height of about 163 feet from the ground. This is a comparatively modern feature, as it was built about a hundred and twenty years since, to replace a, smaller structure of timber covered with lead. The church, as a whole, belongs to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Parts of the transepts and tower appear to be older, and are referred to the thirteenth century, but the earlier portions are not very con- spicuous, so that the general effect is not materially altered. The nave and aisles were built, not all at one period, during the fourteenth century, the style of the different parts varying from rather late Decorated to Perpendicular. The south aisle is ascribed to John de Stratford, a native of the town, who had already risen to eminence as an ecclesiastic, and afterwards became Archbishop of Canterbury. lie also founded, in the year 1332, a chantry. This foundation was augmented by his nephew, Ralph de Stratford, Bishop of London, who, in addition, fault a house for the priests, and the church became a collegiate foundation, and its rector bore the title of dean. The nave consists of six bays, and is separated from the aisles by rather lofty pointed arches. Galleries have been inserted, but the removal of them is con- templated in the course of an extensive restoration winch commenced a few years back and is still in progress. Above is a clerestory of twelve windows, two in each bay. In the south aisle Thomas ii Becket was honoured. The roof of the nave and the stalls in the choir are good examples of woodwork; but the rood- screen, which was probably elaborate, has disappeared. At the east end of the north aisle, where was formerly a chapel to the Virgin enclosed by a screen, is a group of monuments commemorating members of the Clopton family. The oldest, an altar-tomb without inscription, is supposed to have been erected for Sir Hugh Clopton,* who was Lord Mayor of London in 1492, and built for Stratford a bridge over the Avon. The effigies of William Clopton — clad in armour — and his wife lie on another altar-tomb, which was erected about a century later than the other. Against the east wall is a huge canopied monument com- memorating George Carew, Earl of Totnes, Baron of Clopton, and his wife, who was daughter of the aforesaid William. A long inscription records his honours and offices. He died without issue in 1029. In the southern transept some Early English work remains, as may be seen * He rebuilt the greater part of the chapel of the Holy Cross, which still remains, close to the site of New Place, the house in which Shakespeare died. 68 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stratfokd-on-Avon. in the vestry. A monument against the west wall also deserves a passing glance. It is to the memoy of one Richard Hil, or Hill, a woollen-draper and " thrise bailif of this borrow." The inscriptions on his tomb are written in four languages — Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and English. With so much learning, it is not very THE CHANCEL. surprising that they fail to tell us the date of Ids death. This, however, appears to have occurred in 1593. The writer of his epitaph represents him as a man of singular honest}'. Let us hope the proverb is not in this case accurate. From beneath the central tower we pass into the spacious chancel, or rather choir, of the church, an unusually good example of rather late Perpendicular work. This was erected by Thomas Balsall, who was Lean of Stratford from 1465 to 1491. It is lofty, and without aisles. On either side are large mullioned windows Stbatfoud-on-Avok.] SEA KESPEA EE'S TOMB. 69 divided into two tiers by a transom; but in the two eastern bays the lower stage is replaced by a, blank wall, which probably was intended to be covered with fresco paintings or with tapestry. To the northern of these is affixed the noted monu- ment to Shakespeare. A few feet to the south of it, on a raised platform, which forms a kind of broad step to that supporting the communion-table, is a plain stone slab bearing the well-known lines — " Cloud Frend, for Jesus' sake forbeare To digge tin" dust encloased here ; Bleste be ye man yt spares tlies stones, And cvrst be he yt moves my bones." The name of Shakespeare is not recorded on this stout.', but there is no doubt that it covers his grave. It is so stated in Dugdale's "Antiquities of Warwick- shire," published only forty years after the poet's death; but that he wrote the lines is highly improbable, though possibly some friend or member of his family may have recorded in them a sentiment which Shakespeare had been heard to utter. More than once a desire has been expressed to open the grave, but hitherto the supposed wish of the dead man has been held sacred ; and though an exact measurement of the skull which once encased the brain of Shakespeare would have been of the greatest interest to those whose study is man, national senti- ment has hitherto proved too strong for science. It needs but a. slight effort of the imagination — so little has this part of the building been changed since the seven- teenth century — to reproduce the final scene of the poet's career: the open grave, yawning dark in the floor; the earth piled around on the pavement; the priests, in robes slightly more formal than those now worn, repeating in saddened tones the well-known words: "We therefore commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord desus Christ"; the mourners standing round in sorrowful silence — and there would surely be many more than the small circle of relatives — thinking, perhaps, of the dead man's own words: — " Fear no more the heat o' (he sun, Nor the furious winter's rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done. Home art gone and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must As chimney sweepers come to dust. "Fear no more the frown o' tie' great, Thou art past the tyrants stroke : Care no more to clothe and eat ; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic must All follow this and come to dust. 70 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Ktti a TFonD - ox -Avon. The monument also has its special interest. There are various pictures which claim to be portraits of Shakespeare, but they differ from each other, and perhaps not even the best authenticated among them is quite above suspicion. But the bust on the tomb must have been sculptured a very short time after Shakespeare's v a likeness, though how far a successful one we have no means of knowing. It " was death,* and so is certainly ; ™g§fj originally painted over in imi- tation of nature. The hands and face were of flesh colour, the eves of a light hazel, and the hair and beard auburn ; the doublet or coat was scarlet, and covered with a loose black gown or tabard, without sleeves." HOUSE OP SUAKESI'EAKE's BIRTH The colouring remained as described until the year 1793, when, at the request of ftlalone, it was covered with a coat of white paint. Our ancestors about that period appear to have had a perfect craze for painting everything, and the fa- vourite smearing was white or light stone colour. Not a few of us can remember the chilly glare of certain old-fashioned reception rooms, and the havoc which had been wrought in cathedrals and churches. The most beautiful sculpture in stone was plastered over with successive coats of whitewash; the finest old oak panels and carvings were painted white. We do, however, recollect one case where some wood carving in a college chapel was painted green. So, as the old colours must by this time have become rather damaged, it was no doubt thought that the bust had now a " particularly neat appearance." But even in that day some objections were raised, in proof of which we may venture, often KOOM I.N WHICH SHAKESPEARE WAS UUltK. * It is mentioned by Digges in verses prefixed to the first edition of Shakespeare in 1623, and thus must have been erected within seven years of the port's death. The tradition of Stratford is that it was copied from a cast after nature. — Black's " Guide to Warwickshire " (Stratford). Stra -ON-AvON.] MONUMENTS. 71 as it has been quoted, to repeat the epigram in which this action of Shakespeare's worst editor is censured : — ■ " Stranger to whom this monument is shown, Invoke the poet's curse upon Malonc, Whose meddling zeal his barbarous taste: displays, And daubs his tombstone as he mars his plays." In 1801 the white paint was removed and a careful restoration made of the colour, which, fortunately, could still be made out beneath it, so that we now see the monument very nearly as it must have been two centuries since. Shakespeare sleeps among his own people. On his right hand lies Anne Hathaway, his wife. On his left, his favourite daughter, Susanna Hall — "Witty above her sex, but . . . wise to salvation." Further away are the graves of her husband, Dr. Hall, and their only child Elizabeth ; also that of her sister Judith. But there are two other monuments at the east end of the church which must not be left unnoticed. One is an altar-tomb placed against the wall a little to the east of Shake- speare's monument, handsome in design, but rather dilapidated; this commemorates Dean Balsall, by whom, as has already been stated, this part of the church was rebuilt. The other is a tine marble monument erected to com SHAKESPEARE. (The Stratford Portrait.) lmemorate John Combe. Traditi on declares that he was a great usurer, and ascribes to Shakespeare a very scurrilous doggerel epitaph in his memory; but no grounds can be found for either assertion, and there is reason to believe that he and Shakespeare were intimate friends. Our brief account of Stratford- on- A von Church may serve to indicate that, as we have said, it would have well repaid a visit, even if it were wholly dissociated from the memory of Shakespeare. But, as it is, we find it difficult to note the many things that are really of interest, for here, to quote the words of Washington Irving, "the mind refuses to dwell on anything that is not connected with Shake- speare; this idea pervades the place; the whole pile seems but as his mausoleum. The feelings, no longer checked and thwarted by doubts, here indulge in perfect confidence; other traces of him may be false or dubious, but here is palpable evidence and absolute certainty." q\ (| Bonney. ST. JAMES'S, WHITEHALL, AND THE SAVOY: THREE ROYAL CHAPELS OF the tliree royal chapels in London we take first that which is still connected with a royal palace. One word as to the history of this, of which the chapel is an integral portion. As a royal residence it is far more modern than the deserted precincts of Westminster ; as a mansion it yields to Whitehall. So late as the time of Henry VIII. the ground was occupied by a hospital, dedicated to St. James, " for certain leprous maidens." The king obtained it by exchange, pensioned off the inmates, and replaced the buildings by a "fair mansion and park," in the year of his marriage with Anne Boleyn.* Within its walls his daughter Mary pined and died ; here, too, died Prince Henry, the eldest son of James ; and from beneath its roof, his frequent home in happier clays, his yet more ill-fated brother Charles went both to his trial at West- minster, and to his death at Whitehall. Charles II., who, as well as his brother James, was born in this palace, preferred Whitehall as his residence, and gave up St. James's to his brother, the Duke of York ; and here was born, though not a few refused to believe it, the unlucky infant afterwards known as the Chevalier de St. George, the Old Pretender. The palace was at first frequently occupied by William and Mary, but afterwards by Princess Anne. In it she was both born and married ; and here, too, she received the news that the little " gentleman in black" had done a pleasure to the Jacobites, and a mole-hill had raised her to the throne. Hither from Hanover came George with his favourites. Here his son George also lived after Ins marriage, till father and son had a battle royal at the grandchild's christening, and the Prince of Wales was summarily turned out. Truly, they were not a happy family, these earlier members of the royal house of Hanover. In St. James's, long after the prince had become king, and had in turn quarrelled witli his own heir-apparent, Queen Caroline, his faithful and strangely loving wife, made that very Christian ending of which so melancholy a. tale is told. Since the earlier days of his successor, St. James's Palace has been less and less used as a royal residence; but levees are still held in the State' apartments. The Chapel Royal of St. James is entered from the Colour Court, to which admission is obtained by the old gateway, a familiar feature to all Londoners. On the right hand is a. sort of cloister, in which is an ordinary door without any ecclesiastical character. The promise of the exterior is fulfilled within. The door opens into a passage, and that into a large room — a hall, in fact, of moderate * Hare: "Walks in London,'' ii. 54. St. James's.] THE CHORISTERS. 73 size. The north end, at which stands the communion-table, is occupied by a large oblong window with plain, close mullions, filled with tinted glass; the roof is fiat, bid rather handsomely fretted and painted; the wood-fittings are of Georgian type, substantial and but little adorned. The plan of the chapel is somewhat peculiar. As we have said, it is simply a hall carried up to the level of the first-floor ceiling; but, by way of enlargement, sundry small rooms to cast and to west on this floor have been thrown into the chamber, and are used CHAPEL ROYAL, WHITEHALL, FUOM PARLIAMENT STREET. as pews, and in one case for the organ. That may not be a correct history of the structure, but is exactly what its appearance suggests. The royal pew is m a gallery over the entrance. The boy choristers unvested are a sight to see, so gorgeously are they apparelled in scarlet frock-coats stiff with -old braiding-" Children of the Chapel Royal" they are quaintly called; and from this family more than one musician of note has come. The communion-plate, of -old, richly embossed, and on a large scale-the gift of various kings -is very magnificent. Now the service and worshippers call lor no comment; but scandal says that in past days the "quality" behaved no better in the chapel than in the church of St. James. The scenes 'described in the latter by Addison went on to as great an extent m K 74 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. James's. the former. So far was the "making of eyes," the smirking, and signalling carried, even before Anne became queen, that Bishop Burnet complained of it to her ; and the pews, it is said, were raised. On this a satirical ballad was written, which represents the bishop thus making his request : — " Then pray condescend Such disorders to end, And to the ripe vineyard the labourers send, To build up the seats, that the beauties may see The face of no bawling pretender but me." Thus it was done, with the following result : — "And now Britain's nymphs, in a. Protestant reign, Are boxed up at prayers like the virgins in Spain." Apparently the evil was to some extent cured, for her Majesty Queen Caroline, in the next century, gave general offence by her habit of talking in chapel. She had asked Mr. Whiston, her chaplain, what fault people had to find with her, and he mentioned this as the one of which they most complained. "She promised amendment; but proceeding to ask what other faults were objected to her, he replied, ' When your Majesty has amended this I'll tell you of the next. 1 " A somewhat plain-spoken divine this. In this chapel George III. was a frequent worshipper. Madame d'Arblay describes how, one cold November, he would persist in his attendance, till at last the queen and court -what better idea of the intensity of the cold can we have with such a queen and such a court?— "left the king, his chaplain, and the equerry to freeze it out together." Several marriages of members of the royal family have been solemnised in this chapel, small as it is, and apparently ill adapted to tiny ceremonial. Among them were.' that of her present Majesty to Prince Albert, and that of her eldest daughter to the Crown Prince of Prussia. Although the Queen has not been in the habit of worshipping in this chapel, even when resident in London, her chaplains-in- ordinary preach at the mid-day service, except during Lent. The Chapel Loyal at Whitehall is the sole remnant of the palace which, from the days of Henry VIII. to James II., was the principal London residence f the Sovereign ; St. James's Palace, which ma)' lie termed its rival in royal favour, being during that period more often the residence of the heir apparent. Whitehall began its history as York House, at which Cardinal Wolsey resided for a time in great state. But in 1529 came the "nipping frost;" he resigned both the Great Seal and his mansion to the king, who accordingly took possession, apparently without payment, of the Cardinal's furniture and plate, and changed the name 1 1 o Whitehall.] THE RUBENS CETLTNG. 75 of the palace to Whitehall. It was a frequent residence of his children during their successive reigns, and the usual one of James I. and Charles I. It was occupied by Cromwell. Then came the second Charles and his dissolute court; followed by his brother James, till he slipped away down the river to embark for France. This palace was a brick building, something in the style of the older part of Hampton Court. James I., however, intended to rebuild the whole establishment on a much more sumptuous plan, and a design was prepared by Ini Jones. Of this, the banqueting-house— now the Chapel Royal— alone was built. In the reign of William III. the palace came to an end. It was grievously damaged by a tire in 1C91 ; and six years later another broke out and burnt everything except the banqueting-house, which, fortunately, was almost detached from the rest of the palace. In 1718 this was converted into a Chapel Royal by George I., who presented a magnificent service of gold plate for the communion- table, to which later Sovereigns have made splendid additions. Since then, alterations and improvements have more than once been made in the interior; but its aspect is still decidedly Hanoverian. Here the curious ceremony of the distribution of the Royal Maundy gifts annually takes place on Maundy Thursday. The Chapel Royal is built of Portland stone. Of its design Fergusson justly says, "It is neither worthy of the inordinate praise nor the indiscriminate blame which has been lavished on it." it has the faults usual in the Renaissance style, especially that of a sur/f/csiio falsi in its constructive ornamentation ; but still it is a finely proportioned and effective building. The comparatively low ground-floor is occupied by apartments. The chapel includes the two upper and principal stages. The most remarkable internal feature is the ceiling. This is adorned by paintings on canvas from the hand of Rubens. The central portion is occupied by a huge oval representing the apotheosis of his sacred Majesty James I., who is depicted lolling easily on his seat, as he is transported heaven- wards through the clouds by embodied virtues and celestial beings. It is in many senses of the word a great work; the painter's immense grasp, effective grouping, and mastery over the drawing of flesh and muscle and figure are fully evidenced; in short, the picture is a marvellous Imtr deforce; but its idea indicates the very nadir of Christian art. The smirking self-satisfaction of the sprawling monarch would be absolutely comic if the scene, regarded in the light of history, were not a sarcasm too sad for laughter, bound the principal picture are eight large medallions and tablets, with emblematic figures to harmonise with the central subject. The pictures were affixed to the ceiling in 1629, four- years after the death of James. This room, in the days when it formed part (J 1 the palace, witnessed many a pageant and many a revel ; but the scene of deepest and saddest interest was that of January 30th, 1649. That morning Charles I. was conducted from his 70 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [The Savoy. lodging in St. James's Palace through the park to the palace at Whitehall. In front of the banqueting-house a scaffold had been erected at the level of the first-floor windows, one of which had been removed * in order to give easy access from within. The king, greater in adversity than in prosperity, passed along" the galleries of the palace — through this room, so familiar to him in happier davs — and then out upon the scaffold to the (dosing scene. In a few minutes all was over: Charles Stuart was dead, and the Restoration became possible. The Chapel Royal of the Savoy differs from the two already described, in that it never formed a part of one of the strictly royal residences. A mansion was built near the Thames in 1245 bv Peter, Earl of Savoy and Richmond, who was the uncle of Eleanor, wife of Henry III. Afterwards he conferred it on a religious fraternity, from whom it was purchased by the same queen for Edmund, Earl of Lancaster. P was burnt by Wat Tyler, and appears not to have been rebuilt until Henry ATI. endowed it as a hospital of St. John the Baptist. Suppressed by Edward VI. , it was restored by Queen Mary, and the Savoy Hospital continued for many years, its precincts becoming more and more dis- reputable. In the reign of Charles II. it obtained a more worthy repute as the meeting-place of the Savoy Conference. For main" years the chapel was used by the parishioners of St. Marv-le-Strand, whose church had been pulled down by the Protector Somerset; and after they had left, it became, about a hundred and thirty years since, of evil note owing to the ease with which the marriage knot was tied by its minister, who availed himself of his freedom from episcopal jurisdic- tion, until at last he incurred a prosecution and was sentenced to transportation. In l??.'i a patent was issued, by George III. constituting the church a Chapel Royal, as it continues to this day, the queen holding it as Duchess of Lancaster. The church appears to have been built about the year 1505, but it had been much altered before 1864. In the summer of tin.' latter year a, fire broke out, by which the fittings, roof, and monuments were destroyed. It was restored by her Majesty the Queen, and in the year 1886 the interior Avas renovated. Hence, except the walls, there is little left of olden time. It is structurally a rather plain Pate Perpendicular chapel, without aisles — simply a long room, but handsomely fitted and rather richly decorated. There is a low square turret at the southern end, and the communion-table is at the northern : for the orientation of all these Loyal Chapels is peculiar. The new reredos incorporates fragments of that which adorned the old chapel ; and a few small monuments, which also escaped the fire, are worthy of notice; one of these is a brass commemorating * There is no doubt thai the scaffold was erected on the weslern side of (lie building, where now the footway of the street passes. Tradition points to the central window (that concealed in the interior, behind fin- royal pew) as the one through which the king went out to his death; bat some authorities represent it as a window just on the north of thr banqueting-house. The Savoy.] MEMORIALS. 7? Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunlceld, translator of Virgil, who was buried here in 1522. Among other notable personages who arc entombed in or about the chapel is Archibald Cameron, brother of Donald Cameron of Lochiel, the last : li^isijjtittifiiiiiiij.ii.'ifr'-' CHAPEL ROYAL, SAYOY. person executed for the rebellion of 1745. He bad escaped to France, but imprudently returned to Scotland eight years afterwards, was apprehended, brought to London, executed at Tyburn, and interred at the east end of the chapel. A monument was erected to bis memory (by the Queen's permission) in 1846. This was destroyed by the fire, and has been replaced by a memorial window. Another window commemorates Lander, the African traveller, who died at Fernando Po. A brass, the memorial of Bishop Ilalsey, which had long been missing from the chapel, and a leaf of a small triptych, which is believed to have formerly adorned the walls, have been recently recovered. Thronged and busy as is all its neighbourhood, hemmed in with lofty warehouses and places of business, on one side the crowded Strand, on the othei the turbid river, all is peace round the chapel of the Savoy, which, with its old graveyard, its plane trees and lilac bushes, forms a little oasis of rest in the populous desert of London. r p (| Bonney THE SPIRES OE COVENTRY. TN the churches of South Staffordshire and the adjoining part of Warwickshire -*- steeples are not common features. But the two towns which have more than once been rivals as the seat of the episcopal see of the district, and were long united in its title, are exceptions to this rule. Lichfield, which has become the centre of the diocese, now also hears away the palm with the triple group of its cathedral, and two others in the town; still, the "three tall spires" of Coventry are hardly less noted. They are worthy of a. town which still retains some of the most quaint and picturesque buildings of any in the Midlands. Before the destruction of its cathedral, which also was adorned with a steeple, the town must have possessed a cluster of churches which can hardly have been rivalled in England. In the immediate neighbourhood of an abbey or cathedral we not uncommonly find some church of more moderate dimensions, like St. Margaret's at Westminster, or St. Nicholas' at Rochester, to quote these examples only. But at Coventry there rose almost side by side with its cathedral two important churches, one of which was of an almost exceptional size. The stately cathedral, with its old-world memories of Leofric and Grodiva, lias been swept away. Only some fragments of wall, some bases of clustered columns, disinterred during recent excavations, mark its site. It was destroyed in that iconoclastic epoch winch immediately followed the rupture of the English Church from the dominion of the Pope of Borne, when, partly through a natural reaction against superstition, partly through the greed of the vultures of the Court, our land was deprived of so many noble buildings, our people robbed of so much accumulated wealth. To the south-east of the site of the cathedral stands the church of St. Michael, one of the largest in the Midland Counties. At the present time it is difficult to describe this church, for it is in the hands of the restorer, and in parts is almost undergoing reconstruction. The upper portion of the spire has been pulled down; additions arc being made at the east end; the church is divided by a wooden partition. These words mav sound ominous, but more than super- ficial change was absolutely necessary. The stone of which the beautiful steeple has been constructed, like much of the red stone of the district, though very effective in appearance, is very perishable. For man)' years the steeple of St. Michael's, with its weathered surface, from which almost every trace of ornamenta- tion had crumbled away, had worn an aspect of decay, but for some time past it has been known to he hardly safe. Indeed, the architects at first were of opinion that it must be rebuilt, for even the foundation was found to be insecure. St. Michael's.] THE STEEPLE. 79 Happily, however, on a reconsideration of the question, it lias been found possible by various devices in underpinning, and by recasing the whole structure with new stone, to avoid proceeding to this extremity, and a few years will show to Coventry an old friend witli a new face, which, though it may have lost somewhat in grace of outline by the substitution of the sharp-cut for the time- worn edges of its stones, will he an exact reproduction of the structure which once vied with the cathedral. St. Michael's Church is of more than one date, but as a. whole it belongs to the latter part of the fourteenth century, and the earlier of the fifteenth. The steeple was commenced in 1373, and took twenty-two years in building; the body of the church, which is of slightly later date, is known to have been com- pleted by 1-150. Popular tradition asserts the building to have been mainly the gift of a family named Botener, two brothers building the tower, and two sisters the spire. This seems to he probable, but whether the rest of the church was erected at their cost is more doubtful. Besides this graceful spire, which rises to a height of 303 feet, the chief peculiarity in the church is the large area of ground which it covers, and the general absence of well-marked divisions in its plan. It has, indeed, a nave and side aisles, but the intervening arches are high and the clerestory is comparatively low, so that the whole is to an exceptional degree combined in one building. There are, further, large side chapels to the aisles, from which the former arc barely separated. The one on the north occupies four bays. On the south are two of smaller size, separated hv the porch. There is also no structural demarcation between nave and choir — or nave and chancel — whichever be the more appropriate term. Hence the general effect is that of a large irregular hall, and the building is defective in its proportions; sumptuous rather than graceful. But, though the church as a whole is open to this criticism, there is much to admire in its various parts. Of its steeple, that marvel of elegance, we have already spoken. It may suffice to add that it overtops its rival at Lichfield Cathedral by fully 50 feet; it is considerably higher than Chichester, and is only slightly exceeded by Norwich. These, moreover, are all central spires, while at St. Michael's the Avhole elevation of the steeple is apparent to the eye. An exceptional feature is that the spire rises from an octagonal lantern, which practically forms the lowest stage, as it is much smaller than the tower, and is supported by flying buttresses rising from the pinnacles of the latter. The steeple, judging from the mode in which it is joined on the inside to the church, appears to have been designed for a, building slightly different in plan from the present one. Another peculiarity is that the axis of the chancel is inclined at a perceptible angle to that of the nave. Probably there was once a rood screen at the junction, but this has now disappeared ; the side aisles, however, extend for three 80 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Michael's. bay, further. _ The oast end terminates in an apse, which, though of the simplest form, for it is only three-sided, adds much to the beauty of the church The original design included a series of chantries on a lower level, but these were left unfinished. I hey are being completed (in 1887) for use as vestries; and the ; VKlC ; ni ^ f th ° Strc0t at tk> ba <* «f the church will greatly enhance the beauty of the eastern end. Hi- io,,l „ sood, and there is some old carved oak still left among the l ) THE SPIRES OP COVENTRY. fittings of the church. It was cleared of galleries and otherwise restored about a qUart "' " f a C,mtur y * incc > aild thc interior, though plain, was in no way objec- tionable ; but when the present restoration is completed there will be consider- able enrichment, in addition to the structural alterations. For the most part however the church is more interesting and more impressive as a whole than in detail' There is little left of old stained glass, or of woodwork of any importance, nor is there anything specially worthy of notice in the designs of windows, columns or capitals. The monuments also, though numerous, are neither remarkable for antiquity nor for design. One, from thc quaintness of its inscription, deserves a passing notice. Tins, written by, and to the memory of, one Captain ( J-ervase Scrope a Wkshmn.an, who died in the year 1705, is too lone, for quotation, but the author describes himself as "an old tossed tennis ball," worn out « with Ion- Tkinity. 1 DISA PPOINTED EXPECT A T10NS. 81 campaigns and pains o' th' gout," and he leaves on record a hitter protest against putting faith in princes : " Four kings in camps ho truly seru'd, And from his loyally ne'er sworu'd. Father ruin'd, the son slighted, Ami from the Crown n'er requited, Less of estate, relations, blood, Was too well known, but did no good." The church possesses also a good peal of ten bells, which formerly hung in the tower; these, however, have now been taken down, and will be placed in a ST. .MICHAEL S, COVENTRY. separate campanile, in order to avoid exposing the old steeple to any un- necessary strain. West of St. Michael's is Trinity Church, considerably smaller in size, but better in design. It is cruciform, with a. central spire. In the main the church is Perpendicular in style, but portions of it remain from an earlier structure, which belonged to the thirteenth century. The spire is of later date, for the original one was blown down in the year 16Gd, and did much injury in its fall to the body of the church. As at Lichfield, the new spire appears to have been in the main a reproduction of the old one, so that the general effect is good, and the loss was to a great extent repaired. Trinity Church was restored some thirty years since by Sir G. Gr. Scott, when the bells— with a view to safety- were removed to a wooden campanile, built in the churchyard, and the bell- chamber was opened out into the church, an alteration which much enhanced the 82 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [TltlMTY. effect of the interior. In this, notwithstanding the disparity in size, Trinity Church is distinctly superior to St. Michael's. The stained glass in the windows is chiefly modern, and so, speaking generally, is the woodwork, but the communion-table is a fine piece of seventeenth century carving in oak, which, though not "Gothic" in design, has been very wisely re- spected and left undisturbed by the restorers. There is an old brass lectern, and the font is good, but the most re- markable and interesting feature in the church is the stone pulpit. This is of unusual size, being a kind of gallery of open stonework attached to the north-east pier of the tower — a design common on the Continent, but rare in England. The monuments are not remarkable, though the one to Philemon Holland should not be forgotten. He was a la- borious student, better known to our great-grandfathers than to this generation, and translated Camden's "Britannia" and several other works. lie wrote the epitaph for his own tomb, and it is a characteristic example of the scholarship of the seventeenth century. One couplet, which records his name' in a epiaint conceit, may be quoted as a specimen of the whole : — " Si quseras ratio qusenam Nit nominiSj hsea est, Totus terra fui, terraque totus ero." So far as the pun can be rendered into English, it is this: "Whole-land (Hol- land) I was and shall land-wholly (earth) be." The late Dr. Hook, afterwards vicar of Leeds, and finally Dean id' Chichester, was for some years vicar of this parish. The last event in its history of any importance was a dispute about the pay- ment of a rate, on which the income of the vicar chiefly depended. Certain exceptional circumstances had caused tins to be retained when church-rates generally were abolished. It was, however, felt to lie a grievance, and its levy gave rise yearly to more and more ill-feeling. This, in accordance with the doctrine — which has, unfortunately, become popular of late years- -that the easiest and cheapest way of getting an obnoxious law HOLY TIlIMTV, COVENTRY, Cheist Chuuch.] THE THIRD SPIRE. 8-3 altered is to break it, was at last mani- fested in various riotous demonstrations, rhese resulted in a compromise, which appears to have worked well up to the present time. It will probably last as long as any agreement does in the present age of the world. The third spire in Coventry— that of Christ Church — stands apart from the others, near to the railway station. It is altogether on a smaller scale, but is a very pleasing example of fourteenth century work. The church at that time was at- tached to the Grey Friars' Monastery. r l die steeple was fortunately spared when the old church was pulled down after the dissolu- tion of the monastery ; the modern struc- ture, which has been erected on the old site, has neither interest nor beauty. In taking leave of Coventry, we may direct notice to one other church in the town, which, though not adorned with a spire, is a tine and interesting speci- men of mediaeval work. This is dedicated to St. John the Baptist. It was erected by a guild, under the protection of that saint, and was consecrated in the year 1350. Ultimately the church was attached to a parish, and it has of late rears been carefully restored. It is cruciform, but the transepts are very short, not extending beyond the outer walls of the aisles, so that the ground-plan is an oblong-, ddie tower is central. The church is well worth careful study, as its architecture is peculiar, the east and west windows, which are large and hand- some, and the srpiarc-headed clerestory windows, being the most remarkable fea- tures. Into the details space forbids us to enter, but we may describe the general effect of the design by saying that, though rather ornate, it is unusually rigid — the work of an architect who preferred rectilinear to curvilinear combinations, that of a geometrician rather than of a poet. r p <; Bonney. HULl X1QNITY THE iTLl'I'I. MONKWEARMOUTH AND JARROW. THE VEKEBABLE BEDE. IT may fairly be said that there are no buildings in England which can exceed in interest the sister Abbey Churches of Monkwearmouth and Jarrow. We have fragments of older buildings in the walls of churches still in existence, as at Dover, Canterbury, and elsewhere; but their earliest history is irrecoverably gone — blotted out by the pagan barbarians from whom the Anglo-Saxon race sprang. At Monkwearmouth and Jarrow, on the other hand, Ave have remains so consider- able of the earliest buildings that we can see with very fair certainty what they were like. In the tower-porch at Monkwearmouth and in the chancel at Jarrow we stand within the walls which Benedict Biscop reared more than twelve hundred years ago ; we are in the actual churches in which Ecgfrith, King of the North- umbrian Angles, worshipped ; we are on ground traversed by the little feet of Bede when he served as a boy at the altar, and paced over by his graver steps when he had become the most learned man and the most voluminous writer in Western Europe. In the parish churches of to-day we are in the Abbey Churches of 674 and 682. There can be no doubt that we owe this to one cause which stands out beyond all others. The time never came when the development of these twin monas- teries demanded the erection of buildings of greater magnificence ; and thus it never became the business of anyone to pull down the old walls, and obliterate the traces of the original buildings, to make way for others on a larger scale. How much this means, anyone will understand who goes into the marvellous crypt of York Minster and sees there, far within the bounding-walls of the vast cathedral of to-day, the ancient herring-bone work of the modest Anglian church, built round the oratory where Edwin, the first-fruits of the kings of the North, was baptised. In the course of such vast enlargements as most of our ancient cathedral and abbey churches have undergone, all external trace of the original building has of necessity disappeared. Monkwearmouth and Jarrow had the less splendid but more happy fate of being made " cells " of Durham by the early Norman bishop, and so the churches as they stood were enough for the wants of the monks ; and there, in considerable part, they are standing yet. The present church of Monkwearmouth has a tower on the porch. The lower part of this tower and the porch are taken to be the original work of Benedict Biscop. The same may be said of the west wall, with its curious window from the tower, ornamented at the sides with baluster-shafts. The upper part of the tower was taken down by the late vicar, and built again MoNKWEAKMOUTll AMI JaUKO\V.] BENEDICT BISCOP. 85 with tlie same stones, set in the same places. The openings in the tower, of the nature of windows, divided into two arches by a central baluster-shaft, are of the same character as those commonly known as Saxon at, St. Benet's, Cambridge, St. Mary Wigford. Lincoln, and in other well-known examples. The string- course witli cable edging, divided into panels bearing the representations of various animals, is unlike any of the other early string-courses which have been preserved ; |P^f MOXKWrAKMOL'TH. and there are no examples elsewhere of the flat stone jambs, carved with inter- lacing serpents, on the sides of the door leading into the nave, surmounted by two baluster pillars on either side of the doorway. The north wall of the original church was in existence when the repairs of a few years ago were com- menced. All trace of the monastic buildings other than the church has disappeared. It is 1,212 years since the pious servant of Christ, Benedict Biscop, began to build a monastery in honour of "the most blessed Peter, chief of the Apostles," on the north side of the mouth of the Wear. The venerable and devout King of Northumbria, Ecgfrith, gave him a site and helped him in the work. That is what Bede tells us. Bede was only a baby at the time, it is true, but he passed his early boyhood in the monastery, and at Jarrow he lived and died, so that he had personal knowledge of what he wrote about. S6 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Mokkweabmouth Benedict, as Bede tells us further, went to Franco and procured stone- masons who could build him a church of stone in the style of the Romans, which he greatly admired — a Romanesque church, as we should say. When Benedict's Grallo-Roman stonemasons had nearly finished their work, he sent to Franco for workers in glass to till the windows of the church, the porches, and the upper chambers. From these workmen the English learned the art of making glass, Wilfrith, for his great churches, having only imported it. Within a year from laying the foundations, Bede tells us — evidently implying that the rapidity with which so large a work was done bv the foreign masons appeared remark- able to the Angles — the roof was on and masses were celebrated. The fabric of St. Peter's Church, Monkwearmouth, was thus completed. As for the fittings of the church, the sacred vessels, the vestments, the decorations, Benedict procured such as he could at home; for others he went to France, and even as far as Rome. On his fifth and last visit to Rome he procured pictures to hang like a crown round the church of " the blessed Mother of God " which he had built in the monastery. This leads us to suppose that before the Romanesque church of St. Peter was built he had erected for the immediate use of the monks a much humbler budding, probably of wattle or timber (the Scottish fashion) ami of a circular form, dedicated to the Virgin Mar}'. It was on this visit that he procured pictures for St. Paul's, Jarrow, which King Ecgfrith had begged him to build as soon as he had finished St. Peter's, Monkwearmouth. The fourth abbot, Ceolfrid, did a great deal for the monaster) 7 . Among other things, he made a number of oratories, one of which, that of St. Laurence, is specially named. He doubled the library which Benedict had given, and thus made Bede's extensive studies possible. The Church of St. Mary was still in use in his time, as well as St. Peter's, for on the day on which he resigned the abbacy and left for Rome, mass was sung at early dawn in both the churches. There can be no real doubt that a considerable part of Biscop's work re- mains to this da}', practically the west porch and west wall of the church. His Romanesque church was a rectangular building with a "porch" at the west end — the "porch of entrance" of which Bede speaks. The foundations showed, when the modern enlargement took place, that the original building was 68 feet long and 22 feet 8 inches wide, measured on the outside. This is a symmetrical arrangement, the length being exactly three times the width; no better propor- tion could have been chosen. If the rule of LL three cubes" was observed, the height of the side walls of the nave would be 22 feet 8 inches. The porch was hall' the width of the nave. The windows in the main building were no doubt small on the exterior and placed high up, with a wide splay of the jambs and a steep slope to the window-sill, that the light might spread like a fan and and Jauuow.] TUB BALUSTER VILLAUS. 87 come down into the body of the church. The window in the west wall, look- ing' from the tower into the nave, will show us what the windows were like. The west porch remains. It is square, and its width is half that of the nave — 11 feet 4 inches. We cannot doubt that it and the storey above it are Biscop's work — the "porch of entrance" and one of the "upper chambers" mentioned by Bede. Whether the tower was originally higher than these two storeys we must leave to others to settle to their own satisfaction; the arguments, in our opinion, are decidedly against it. But we may fairly say that part of the "porch" is gone. The people would enter through the north and south openings in the porch; the west opening is for another purpose. It led, in all probability, from the porch into a smaller chamber, either square or semicircular, where the font was, so that a person entering by the south door of the porch would turn to the right to enter the church, and to the left to enter the baptistery. At the east end of the main building there was, no doubt, a corresponding "porch," entered by a Romanesque arch. This chancel would be either semi- circular or square; if square, it may have had a semicircular projection or apse to the east. Over it, too, there may have been an upper chamber. There may well have been other porches — "side chapels," as we should call them. Bede speaks of porches in the plural. They would be entered by Romanesque arches from the church. We can determine the use to which the numerous baluster pillars found at Monkwearmouth and Jarrow were put. Two would be wanted for the sides of each window, as shown in the window in the west wall — a very curious arrange- ment which we should not have expected. Four would be wanted for each of the more ornamented archways, as shown in the present western entrance. If any of the porches had a storey above the upper chamber, clear of the gable end of the nave, each would require four, or — as at Jarrow — eight, for the central support of the arcade in the opening on each of the four sides. Nine- teen balusters were found built into the wall of Jarrow Church when it was being restored. It is unnecessary to give a list of examples of these "Saxon" balusters in England. The largest of all are found in the transepts of St. Albans, where they are believed to lie the surviving representatives of the original work of Off a, King of Mercia, about 793. It was among these surroundings that Bede passed his early years. He was one or two years old when Benedict began to build; and at seven years of age he was placed in the monastery, under the charge of the founder. The sister monastery of St. Paul, at Jarrow, to which we must now pass, was built by Benedict in the year 682, and Bede went there as a boy with Ceolfrid, its first abbot. Here he remained for the rest of his life. lie was ordained deacon at nineteen, some years before the usual age, and priest at thirty. He was 88 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [MoNinVEAlMOCTH either fifty-nine or sixty six at the time of his death, according as one view or another is taken of the statement made by one of his disciples. lie tells of himself that he spent all his years in the monastery, intent upon the study of the Scriptures, and that in the intervals between the duties enjoined by the disciplinary rule and the daily care of chanting in the church, he took pleasure in always learning, teaching, or writing. There can he no doubt that what lie chanted was the Gregorian chant, for it was now eighty years since Gregory, who sent Augustine to England, had remodelled the severe Ambrosian chant. Bede's life was sufficiently uneventful, so far as outward circumstances went, and yet there were crises in it. When he was a boy, a great pestilence raged in the north of England. It earned oil' almost the whole of the Wearmouth brethren, so that there were only left one man and one boy to carry on the services. This hoy can scarcely have been other than Bede. Again, a time came when he was brought face to face with a grave question, affecting seriously the course of his life. His brethren would make him abbot. Bede, we are told, declined the office because he did not wish to deprive him- self of leisure tor studv. A comparison of his lite and labours with the life and labours of tin; canon of a, cathedral of to-day might he a useful lesson to some members of some Chapters. it is sometimes asked, Where could Bede have got his knowledge of much that it might have been supposed no one in England knew? The bishop who ordained him was John of Beverley, a pupil of the learned and wise Arch- bishop Theodore; and it nun' well lie that Bede owed to Bishop John much of his learning, especially his knowledge of ({reek. Theodore had introduced the knowledge of Greek into England shortly before Bede's birth, and it had flourished so greatly that, in Bede's time, there were many who spoke Greek as readily as English. Still, explain it as we will, it is a startling fact that the son of some seventh-century Angle who was probably born a. pagan, should have reached so high a place among the 1 most voluminous and learned of Christian writers. Bede's death seems to have been due to the stooping attitude so constantly maintained by one who wrote many books in days of slow writing, especially in a climate such as that which probably prevailed in the parts where the Don s-^ :-^%m JAUUUW : IHE I0WE11. AND JaRUOW.] REST AFTER TOIL. 89 winds in and out on its course to tlie Tyne. About a fortnight before Easter he was greatly troubled with shortness of breath, and on Ascension Day he died. We have a beautiful account of his last illness, written by an eye-witness. His continual giving of thanks to God is a point much insisted on. His deter- mination to work to the very last moment is another characteristic feature. And JAK110W : THE CHANCEL. when he felt that the end was really come, he begged them to turn his face towards his little oratory; and propped thus on the floor of his cell, he sang glory to God, and singing, died. Of the domestic buildings of the monastery in which Bede lived and died, we have probably nothing remaining. .Such of the stones of the present rums, on the south side of the church, as have any sculpture are of early Norman date. There can he little doubt that the earliest parts of these ruins go back to the time when Aldwin and his two companions from Evesham went north and rebuilt Jarrow under Bishop Walcher, murdered in 1080. There is a very remarkable triangular-headed doorway in one of the walls of the monastic ruins, which it is tempting to call pre-Norman ; hut it has an almost exact counter- part in a doorway at Westminster. It is otherwise with the chancel of the M 90 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Jarkow. church, which we may take as, in the main, Benedict's original building. Its quaint little windows, its exceedingly narrow north door, and the indications in the east wall of an apse relatively wide, tell their own tale of early work. The tower is a puzzling feature, both in itself and in its relation to the other parts of the church. It is very far from square, being '21 feet 3 inches from north to south, and only 13 feet from east to west. The arches into the chancel and into the present nave are relatively very wide — 11 feet G inches. It has not been sufficiently noticed how nearly these dimensions reproduce some of the Monkwearmouth measurements. The shape of the tower points decidedly to an arrangement resembling that in the porch at Monkwearmouth, the north and south sides being the sides of entrance. It will be seen on careful examination that at Jarrow the monks entered from their dormitories, through the south wall of the tower, into a sort of upper chamber, and came down into the chancel itself through a doorway, which is now represented by the smaller of two arches in the east wall of the tower, looking into the chancel. The considerable width of the arch from the tower into the present nave, as compared with that from the Monkwearmouth porch into the nave, may be due to the fact that there it is at the west end, while at Jarrow it is at the east. The remarkably lofty Romanesque arch from the tower into the nave of St. Benet's, Cambridge, is yet another element in a problem which has still to be solved. In the vestry at Monkwearmouth and in the porch at Jarrow are a number of very interesting fragments of sculptured stones, which are generally allowed to be of Anglian type and date. They show complicated interlacements and very careful foliage-work; on one of the Jarrow stones two birds are remarkably well sculptured among the foliage, and there is also a graphic contest between a man and a beast. One of the very earliest inscribed Christian gravestones in England is in the vestry at Monkwearmouth — Here rests in the hody the priest Hereberecht. But of all the sculptured treasures of Jarrow flu; most precious is the dedication stone. Put into English the inscription runs : — " The dedication of the basilica of St. Paul on the 0th of the Kalends of May, in the 15th year of King Ecgfrith, and in the 4th year of Ceolfrid, abbat and under God founder of the said Church." G . F- Browne. THE CHtrECH AND C'HUliCHYAKD. STOKE POGES. THE "COUNTRY CHURCHYARD." HE form of Gray haunts the field-paths and green lanes of Stoke Poges. His must have been a familiar figure to the villagers in his later years, for we know that he was fond of solitary strolls; and the minute descriptions in the Elci suggest that he must often have mused in the THE SOUTH POHCH. little churchyard. In that poem which is of all others the most completely descriptive of the typical English '•:"' God's acre, he deliberately introduces his own personality, and speculates how, after his death, "some hoary-headed swain " will recall his vanished form : — "There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech. That wreathes its old fantastic roof so high, His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by." Many of Gray's letters to his bosom friend Mason are dated from Stoke, although he makes little mention of his doings ; but we know that he spent his time here in solitude and study, as when he was in residence at Cambridge. Gray was doubtless not the first to whom the village churchyard, retired, apart, shaded by elm and yew, restful with the caw of the rooks in the avenue 92 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stoke Poges. hard by, had presented itself in poetic guise. But until he wrote the "Elegy" neither poet nor essayist had succeeded in picturing- a type full of tender charm for us all in language of which the beauty and fidelity arc perceptible to the least learned. To a people with whom the associations of locality are weaker than happily they are with the Saxon, much of the poem would have been un- intelligible. To the Englishman the spot where his forefathers lie buried is sacred ground, and for him at least is true Frederic Mistral's proverb that love of the village steeple is the foundation of patriotism. It was natural and inevitable that the rural churchyard which Gray, with very good reason, took as the model for description, should be much visited and written about. The little Buckinghamshire church is one of the best-known spots in England, for it is hardly an hour's journey from the heart of London, and it stands only just without the lovely belt of country where the Keep of Windsor and the "distant spires, the antique towers" of Eton do "crown the watery glade." Stoke itself is not a beautiful spot, and is as much unlike the typical village as well can be. The parish is scattered and straggling, and presents absolutely nothing of interest after Stoke Park, once the seat of the Penns of Pennsylvania fame, and the wofully modernised house in which Gray lived, and where he certainly wrote the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College," and probably the immortal "Elegy" itself. The comfortable-looking imitation Tudor vicarage lies some hundreds of yards away from the church, and quite a long trudge from the village. The two-mile walk from Slough is flat and uninteresting, but it is well wooded, like most parts of Bucks, one of the most sylvan and umbrageous of southern shires. The famous church and churchyard come upon the visitor with almost theatrical suddenness. Thick clumps of trees hide the not very lofty spire, and the first glimpse of the object of so many pilgrimages has all the charm of the unexpected. A gate of the species known in the district as a "pip-pop" open, from the high road into a meadow, far away at the end of which lies the church, isolated apparently from all life and movement. Seldom does one see a parish church in the midst of such silence and solitude. In the meadow, opposite to the chancel window, stands the heavy but impressive cenotaph erected by John Penn to the memory of Gray. The monument, separated from the park by a low fence, is kept in beautiful order, and upon the panels are inscribed some of the most appropriate verses from the "Elegy." A more lovingly tended churchyard or a quainter church it would be impossible to imagine. Here is a contrast indeed to the ragged graveyards so frequently met with not many years ago, where the paths were overgrown with moss and weeds, and a flock of sheep grazed upon the little green mounds so eloquent of human love and sorrow and eternal hope. At Stoke Poges every tomb is cared for; but although brambles s Stoke Poges.] THE YEW-TREE. 93 and thistles lack, and there is a noticeable absence of the raggedness which so soon comes to a neglected buiying-place, order is not pushed to rigidity. Nature has had her way in all that is lovely. Over man)- of the older headstones ivy has grown, apparently naturally, and the mossy lettering is framed with festoons MONUMENTS IN THE CHANCEL. of evergreen. The ancient yew-tree of the " Elegy," which casts its shade across the porch, is tangled and intertwined with ivv, like the stones which nestle beneath it. This same yew is the chiefest reliance of all the writers who have combated the claims of other places to the immortality of having suggested Gray's poem. It is the clearest possible identification of the spot which the poet had in his mind : — " Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." Many ingenious arguments have keen advanced in favour of Upton, not far from Stoke, and other places near and far, hat Stoke churchyard so completely answers to the description in the "Elegy," that, added to the fact of Gray's long residence in the parish, there can lie no reasonable doubt as to the spot which he has immortalised. Both the churchyard and the exterior of the church have altered considerably since Gray's time. The addition of a wooden spire has diminished the pictuxesqueness of the building externally, although within 94 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stoke Poses. scarcely anything has been touched. Very few of the tombs which Gray knew now remain, for the number of old stones is remarkably small, and those which hear dates remoter than a hundred years ago might be counted upon the fingers of one hand. 1 do not remember to have anywhere seen a burial-place, whether parish churchyard or cemetery, in winch the memorials of the dead are more unassuming or in more uniform good taste; there is not a tasteless or a vulgar stone to he seen. Gray and his mother lie in the same grave, beneath a flat stone without inscription. A tablet in the wall of the church near the east window records that the poet is buried " opposite this stone." Among the very modern tombs is that of the eighth Duke of Leeds. Stoke Park, once the domain of Sir Edward (Joke, the learned author of the commentaries somewhat flippantly known as " Coke upon Littleton," skirts the churchyard, and, indeed, almost entirely surrounds it. There are elms within the park and elms within the churchyard itself in which there muster squadrons of sombre rooks, whose deep caw, strangely thought by some to be "hoarse" and "harsh," adds to the charm and restfulness of this solitary spot, seemingly so far removed from all living things, yet actually within sight and hail of one of the largest houses in England. Upon a summer evening the rooks, perched in their lofty choir, caw in solemn monotones the hymn of the passing day, and soon afterwards the- luminous mist of a midsummer night settles down upon the "ivy-mantled tower," just as Gray must often have watched it in the meditative evening strolls which were so dear to him. His description of nightfall in the second and third verses of the "Elegy" may well have been written after one of these wanderings in the gloaming — "Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a. solemn stillness holds. Saw where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: " Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl dues to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign." For pictorial and artistic reasons, and even apart from its literary associations, the church of St. Giles at Stoke is extremely interesting. It is the very ex- emplar of the old English parish church of poem and picture, with its tower and walls thickly overgrown with ivy, its high-pitched roof and antique porch. Even some portions of the roof are partially covered with creepers. The spire is out of character with the body of the church ; without it, as we may see from old prints, the church, although somewhat stunted, Avas infinitely more picturesque. But the hand of the restorer and improver of ancient things is Stoke Poms.] THE INTERIOR. 95 heavy, and there is cause for thankfulness that nothing worse was done. The tall gables covered with the ruddiest of red tiles are infinitely more grateful to the eye than the roofs of slate and load which have been placed over so many old churches. The wide south porch is a gem. It projects many feet from the church, and has a roof even more highly pitched in proportion. It is of brick and timber in massive beams which recall the beautiful half-timbered manor-houses of the northern and western midlands. The level of the church- yard has been slightly raised since the porch was built, and it is entered now down a step or two. The heavy oaken door, unlocked by a great key nearly a foot long, could assuredly have withstood any ancient engine of war. The interior of the church does not belie in quaintness its outer promise. This is the real old-fashioned church which has so often pointed the moral of the archi- tectural scorner. The high rambling pews and ample galleries, commodious, comfortable, but not perhaps artistic, seem far better in keeping with the associations of the building than would any more modern internal arrange- ment. The ethics of church restoration are beside our scope; but it would certainly seem that special canons apply to a church which is an object of definite historical interest. The interior of Stoke Church is, 1 believe, almost entirely unchanged from the time when Gray and his mother worshipped here, and not without loss of historic continuity could its arrangement have been seriously interfered with. Much less than half a century ago, nine out of ten of our parish churches presented the same internal characteristics as this of Stoke Poges. They were characteristics of the decadence, of course, and were in the main unsightly and more conducive to slumber than to reverence. Here at Stoke, however, the old pews and galleries seem perfectly natural and appro- priate. Rambling little apartments arc sonic of these pews, narrow at one end and wide at the other, winding round pillars, and nestling in cosy corners. In one or two of them lie heavy bibles and prayer-books bearing names and dates of more than a century ago, and there, not unlikely, they have lain since they were stamped with the owner's name, for his descendants sit where he sat. The great Faculty Pew pertaining to the owner of Stoke Park for the time being is a survival which is not now often met "with. Divided by an open screen from the nave, near the chancel step, with a private entrance, a comfort- able fireplace, and rows of velvet chairs, it is more like a private apartment than a pew. In the old days that are not so far away, when ugliness and unsightliness were esteemed incentives to piety, these manorial pews existed in very many churches. Their number is now greatly diminished, the owners having placed themselves on a level with other parishioners, and accepted sittings allotted to them in reseating. Architecturally the church is an amalgam of styles. The chancel arch is Norman, the tower and nave arcades Early 96 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stoke Pur;!-:; English. Sdine of the windows are Decorated; the cast window and the south chapel, which date from 1557, are Perpendicular. In the cloisters leading from the park to the Faculty Pew there are eight ancient windows of armorial glass emblazoned with the arms of former lords of the manor. For so small a church the num- ber of hatchments and mural tablets is remarkable. In the gallery on the south of the chancel are placed many hatchments of the Penns, the Howard- Vyses, and the Grodolphin-Osbornes, the Duke of Leeds being the Lay Impro- priator. Many of the wall-tablets re- late to members of those families, there being not far short of a dozen tablets bearing the name of Howard - Vyse. Here lie several of the descendants of William Penn, the sturdy Quaker who founded Pennsylvania, from his son Thomas in the long-ago down to a remote successor buried in 1869. Few of the tablets possess any artistic claims to consideration ; but there is a very graceful bas-relief to the memory of Nathaniel Marchant, P. A., chiselled at his own request by his friend Chan- trey. Two or three beautiful painted windows, memorials of deceased pa- rishioners, have been inserted in quite recent years. A few of the other windows have been altered at various dates ; but little else has been touched ; and few churches could more sharply point the moral of an elegy which takes for its text the fleetingness of life and the abidingness of the inanimate. It is rare indeed that a church is so appropriately placed as this. Within a long stone'sthrow of two high roads, it is as secluded as it would lie in Sleepy Hollow itself. The churchyard forms the apex of a triangle, and is immediately surrounded by park, woodland, and plantations. From the park it is separated only by a low wall, and a view of the church is one of the most charming glimpses to be obtained from the mansion of Stoke on the rising 1 "'round a few hundred paces away. This great white building, colonnaded and cupolacd, is in the very peculiar taste of Wyatt. In the park, and to be seen from the church- yard, is a column erected by John I'enn to commemorate Sir Edward (Joke. GKA\ * MONUMENT. Stoke Poses.] SIR EDWARD COKE. 97 On a lower site in the park, and within a few yards from Stoke Church, .stands the old manor-house, the residence of the lords of the domain until the building' of Wyatt's more pretentious house;. Tlie contrast is all in favour of the ivy-covered, red-brick, home-like place, gabled and unassuming, built some time in Elizabeth's reign. Sir Edward Coke married for his second wife Lady Hatton, widow of Sir William Hatton, nephew and heir of Sir Christopher Hatton, Queen Elizabeth's Lord Chancellor. Gray has laid the scene of his •' Long (Story 11 at old Stoke manor-house in Ilatton's time, although Sir Christopher never lived there. An often-quoted passage occurs in his description of the vener- able spot — " In Britain's isle, no matter where, An ancient pile of building stands : The Huntingdons and Hattons there Employed the power of fairy hands To rai.se the ceilings' fretted height, Each panel in achievements clothing, Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing." Sir Edward Coke and his wife were an extremely ill-matched pair. Both possessed evil tempers, and in addition the husband was devoured by ambition, while the wife was proud and spiteful. Lady (Joke — or Lad)- Hatton, as she was usually termed — was the daughter of the great Lord Burleigh — he whose nod would shake a state; and she had a daughter by her first marriage who became the cause of endless bickerings. Sir Edward, in furtherance of his ambitious schemes, desired to marry Mistress Hatton to Sir John Villiers, brother of the Duke of Buckingham. Both the young lady and her mother were strongly opposed to the match, and to prevent it ran away to Oatlands. Sir Edward, after groping for a day or two in the dark, followed them, took the house by storm at the head of a band of armed men, and having recovered possession of his step-daughter, locked her up in an attic at Stoke Manor House, and put the key in his pocket. Lady Hatton attempted to forcibly liberate the unwilling bride, but Sir Edward sent his wife off to prison, and compelled both mother and daughter to consent to the match, which took place at Hampton Court. The union ended, as might have been foreseen, in moral disaster. Queen Elizabeth was splendidly entertained at Stoke in 1(501 by Sir Edward Coke. Her reception was magnificent, and when she left Sir Edward presented her with jewels worth more than a thousand pounds. The old manor-house was one of the many prisons of Charles I., who remained there in custody of the Parliamentary army for some days in 1(117. Yet another monarch — William III. — would have visited the house had he not been repulsed by the owner, Sir Robert Gayer. King William arrived unexpectedly at Stoke one N 9S ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stoke Pooes. day, and sent a polite message, requesting to lie allowed to look over the house. Sir Robert, however, who was a furious Jacobite, refused, although his wife entreated him upon her knees to admit the King. " lie has already got possession of another man's house ! He is a usurper. Tell him to go back again. He shall not come within these walls," roared the irate Jacobite ; and so Dutch William had to retire, to the acute agony of the loyal Lady Gayer. The glories of the old manordiouse have long been shorn, and a portion only of the building now remains. In that portion, however, there are one or two interesting apartments, notably the tine panelled bancpietingdiall. In addition to the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College" and the "Elegy," it was probably at Stoke that Gray wrote the "Hymn to Adversity" and the " Long Story." Thus the village is associated with the best and most mature of Gray's few poems. His memory still further consecrates a locality made classic by its literary and political memories — memories of Milton and Waller, of Burke and Beaconsfield. j. Pendeeel-Beodhubst. RYE, FROM TI1K FERRY. R Y E A N D W INCH E L S E A. TWO OLD SEAPORTS. EACE docs not always bring prosperity. This is true not only in the moral sense, as Raskin has indicated in eloquent words, but also in the material sense. If spears, metaphori- cally speaking, were beaten into pruningdiooks, Woolwich Arsenal, so soon as this process of conversion was over, must infallibly lose its trade. Now, although this millennial period is far distant, the character of war, so far as Europe is concerned, has changed, and it is needless to guard our whores against the attacks of pirates or marauders. Thus the Cinque Ports of our southern coast, except where they have been aide to make a new start in life, have fallen far away from their mediaeval prosperity. The original "five ports" were Dover, Hastings, Ilythe, Romney, and Sandwich; and to these sundry "limbs" or subordinate ports attached themselves, among which were numbered Winchelsea and Rye. Dover still remains, as everyone knows, an important fortress; Hastings has sought new life as a watering-place; but the other ports have declined, together with many of the affiliated towns. At a glance it is evident that Rye and Winchelsea must lie counted among towns that have gone down in the world, but they illustrate different stages in 100 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Rye and the descent. Rye still retains its harbour, into which vessels of two hundred tons can enter, is probably as populous as in the olden time, nay, has so far extended as to boast of a New Rye on the level ground, as distinguished from Old Rye on the hill; while Winehelsea has reached a further stage of decadence. Its ancient defences have become ''a world too wide for its shrunk -shanks, 1 ' the cattle graze upon forgotten streets, and the plough is passed over the foundations of houses. Each town occupies a headland. Such has always keen the site of Rye, hut, as will lie hereafter explained, the present is not the original position of A\ inchelsea. Between the two towns is a marshy plain. Over this in former days the sea ebbed and flowed when its waves washed the steeper slopes which still terminate the Sussex up- land. The headland hill, on which Old Rye is built, must have been designed by nature for the site of a town. At its base three streams — the Rother, the Brede, and the Tillingham — unite to form the harbour, in which its little flotilla of fishing-boats still finds anchor. The houses cluster thickly on the slopes, up which the streets wind tortuously; and above the broken lines of roof rise two towers, indicative of the old Puritan sentiment, " Trust in God and keep your powder dry," for the one is the tower of its church, the cither the stronghold of William of Ypres. Walls and battlements were needed for Bye in earlv days; its pastor knew sometimes the "noise of war in the gates." Predatory descents were by no means unfrequent on our coasts in the .Middle Ages, and it must he admitted that they were neither unprovoked nor unrequited. In fact, the men of the Cinque Ports were a thorn in the side of France, and took to the work of harrying the French so kindly that the King could not always keep his dogs from the game when a "close time" was proclaimed. On this account, some five hundred years ago Rye was by no means a pleasant place of residence. For instance, in the year 1377 the French landed in force and plundered the town — an attention which the men of the Cinque Ports duly returned bv harry- ing Western Normandy. That brought back the French in greater strength, ItVE : THE 1'ENJiULUM. WlNClIELSEA.] REPRISALS. 101 and in 1380 tliev burnt, not only Rye, but also VVincholsca and Hastings, towns which on (he former occasion Lad beaten off their assailants. The church at Rye is dedicated to St. Clement, and is a cruciform struc- ture of considerable importance. The transepts, however, are short, the nave aisles rather wide, and the choir is Hanked by large chapels which range with its eastern wall, so that the ground-plan of the building is practically an oblong. There is a massive tower which, though low, is conspicuous in distant views of the town. The older part of the church is Norman, but there is later work of most dates, and it was partly rebuilt about the end of the fourteenth century. Like the town, it was tired by the French in 1380, and this may have rendered a rebuilding necessary. It has also found foes among those of its own household, for a century since it seems to have been yet worse neglected than was usual even in that age. Not only did it meet with the common fate of churches as to galleries, pews, and whitewash, but the northern chapel, dedicated to St. Clare, was used for the parish school, while the southern, dedicated to St. Nicholas, was converted into a lumber-room. These, of course, have been reclaimed, and the church has lately been restored, as was inevitable.* Externally it is plain and rather unattractive, the best feature being the tracery of the east windows and a remarkable, rather massive flying buttress supporting the eastern wall of the southern chapel, probably a subsequent addition to counteract a settlement of the foundation, due interior of the church is much more striking. The nave retains the Late Norman pier-arches, and there is work of that period in the transepts. There is also some Early English work, as in a chantry to the south aisle, and most of the eastern part of the church is Late Decorated or Early Perpendicular, subsequent, as has been said, to the injuries inflicted by the French in the year 1380. Among the minor details, two only call for special mention. Of these, one is the church clock. This is something quite out of the common way, for the hours are struck upon its hell by a gilded pair of well-nurtured cherubs, and its pendulum is so long * The Tvork is not. yet complete, but tlio building is now thoroughly repaired. Except for some attempts to approximate its appearance to that of a church prior to the Reformation, the work seems to have been done in a conservative spirit. VINCHELSEA : THE l'OKCH. 102 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Rye and that it conies through the ceiling and swings free in the church below, though during the recent restoration it lias been shortened by some three yards. What a solace this mast have been to the children of Rye during ser- mon time, especially in the clays when the good folk liked the discourse long if not strong, and considered less than fort)' minutes rather short measure; and how those youngsters whose paternal pews were in full sight of the pendulum must have been envied by their less fortunately situated friends ! This clock claims Queen Elizabeth as its donor, and so boasts itself to he the oldest in England which is in working order. The other thing notable is the communion-table, which is a fine specimen of Renaissance work, made of mahogany, and said to be a memorial of the Spanish Armada. Not long ago it was fastened face to the wall, as if in permanent disgrace for its non-medueval aspect, now it has been brought forward, and an attempt made to " set it up on high," hut it evidently troubles the modern architects by looking too like a table.* The decline and fall of Winchelsea is more marked than that of Rye. " Grass grows in the streets, gardens surround its houses, as in some scattered hamlet, there are great tracts of land under cultivation in the very heart of the town. Around the Friary, the chief mansion therein, on the site of an old monastery, there is a park with noble trees. You pass this, and go on through fields far away from any house, and then, where the road drops down to a valley, there is an ivy-clad ruin, once a gateway of the town. As we tread the streets of Win- chelsea, we are reminded of some of the districts within the Avails of Rome — of Aigues Mortes in the marshes of the Rhone delta. Yet from these they differ in one marked respect: there is something very melancholy in the grand wrecks of buildings of the one, in the ague-haunted solitudes of the other. Not so is Winchelsea ; trees and flowers, the healthful air from the sea, the greenery of gardens and lawns and fields, give it a pleasant and cheerful aspect in its decline. It lias come down in the world, it is true — it is a village standing on the site of a town — but still it has not fallen into degradation."-)- This, moreover, is New Winchelsea ; Old Winchelsea — Winchcls'-ea, or island — did not rise high enough to resist the encroachments of the sea. After various losses from inundations, the old town was almost swept away on St. Agatha's eve in the year 1287. But the value of the harbour induced Edward I. to rebuild the town on the present site, an extensive plateau, secure from the ravages of the sea, and not easily attacked by man. lie intended Ins new town to become the chief maritime station on the south coast; and it was laid out on a definite and well- * This removal has brought to light two small round-headed arches, low down in the oast wall. A stone screen has lately been inserted under the arches leading into the. chapels north and south, to make Ihe chancel more complete. t "Our Own Country," vol. vi., p. :119. WiNcuiasEA.] WINCHELSEA CUUECHYARD. 103 considered plan, similar to the lastides, v Hies f ranches, or free-towns, which Edward had founded in Guienne and Aquitaine. The streets form two sets of parallels at right angles with each other, and towards the centre is a large open square, near to which are built the Town Hall and the church. At first the kings project seemed successful. New Winchclsea throve apace, driving a brisk trade in wines and other continental produce. It was, however, much injured in the second of the French incursions, which has already been mentioned. Prom the first it escaped, for the Abbot of Battle gathered his troops together, fell upon the French, and drove them from its walls; but on the second descent, the French were too strong for the valiant monk, so Winchclsea was stormed and burnt. The sea, however, was its worst enemy. It had de- stroyed Old Winchclsea by violence, it ruined Xew Winchclsea by treachery. Being unable to prevail by open attack, it adopted, too successfully, a policy of " boycotting." In the middle of the fifteenth century the sea began to retire from the coast, and the harbour became useless; first commerce, then the in- habitants, deserted Winchelsea; now the population of a village dwells in the remnants of a town. In keeping with this, the church is only a fragment, though it is a grand one. As befits the place, it stands in an ample churchyard, beyond which is an open grassy space. Here, near the garth wall, is an aged ash tree; beneath its branches John Wesley preached his last open-air sermons at the age of eighty-seven. The church once consisted of a choir of three bays, of a chancel of one bay, with a chapel on its northern side, of transepts two bays long, of a nave of four bays, with a tower at the cross. Only the eastern part remains ; the nave is gone, the transepts arc reduced to broken fragments. For a tower, there is at the western end of the north aisle what may be called a "rudimentary structure," hardly developed beyond an embryonic stage; and a porch has been affixed to the wall which now blocks the choir arch. The date of the church is, of course, that of the foundation of the town. It was built between the years 1288 and 1292, and thus belongs to a time when the graceful Early English style had just blossomed forth into the more ornate Decorated, a time which has produced some of the most beautiful ecclesiastical buildings in this country. To this rule Winchelsea is no excep- tion. The lofty arches which separate the choir from the chapels north and south, with the clustered columns of Caen stone and Sussex marble, are well worth examination. So, too, is the window tracer)', especially the curious arrangement of quatrefoils in the north and south windows. The principal eastern window is also good, but it is a modern restoration. There are sedilia and a piscina in the chancel, but these have been much injured. A bracket in the wall is supposed to have once supported a figure of the patron saint, 104 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Eve and who was no less a personage than Thomas of Canterbury. Probably that was destroyed to vindicate the royal supremacy. Here the south aisle is dedicated to St. Nicholas, the north to the Virgin. In the former is the Alard Chantry; in the latter the Parncombe. Both contain monuments of exceptional interest. In the Alard Chapel are the two finest. That nearer to the east has a beautiful WINCHELSEA : THE CHUKCH AND CHURCHYARD. gabled canopy, and all the details — " grotesque heads, with clusters and sprays of oakdeaves, the mouldings, and the' ornaments — are admirable, belonging as they do to the best period of Gothic architecture, when natural leafage and natural expression were carefully imitated, but with the feeling of the truest art." The figure, which also is admirably executed, is clad in armour, the hands hold a small heart, the legs are crossed, the feet rest upon a lion. This effigy is believed, with good reason, to represent one Gervase Alard, a native of the place, and one of a family of bold sailors. He was appointed " Admiral " of the Cinque Port fleet in the years 1303 and 1306, and the first documentary evidence of the use of this title in England is in connection with his name. The other tomb, which is rather later in date and not quite so good in execu- tion, is probably, though it lias been otherwise identified, that of Stephen Alard, Winchelsea.] THE BELLS. 105 who was Admiral of the Western Fleet to Edward IT. in the year 1324. These tombs arc of ordinary limestone, and have been coloured. The three effigies in the north aisle, which probably date from the reign of Edward III., are of polished Sussex marble. That to the west is a cross-legged warrior, that to the cast a young man, and in the middle is a lady. It has been suggested that they represent a warrior, his wife, and a son, and that the first may be one Nicholas Alard. There are also some other monuments of less importance. The bells of Winchelsea were once hung in a detached campanile, but this was pulled down in the year 1790, and, with the foundations of the nave, was carted off to repair the harbour at Rye. Both towns, it must not be forgotten, have been invested with a new interest, fictitious though it he, as the scenes among which Denis Duval spent his boyhood. So life-like is this last child of Thackeray's imagination, that we unconsciously people the streets of Rye and Winchelsea with the personages of the novel, some of whom, notably the Westons, conspicuous personages among the group of ill-doers who figure in it, were not without a historical basis. That, too, there was for the smugglers, of whom Denis writes, "Grandfather, Rudge, the Chevalier, the gentlemen of the Priory, were all connected in that great smuggling society of which I have spoken; which had its depots all along the coast, and its correspondents from Dunkirk to Havre de T. G. Bonney. ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S, SMITH FIELD, AND ST. SAVIOUR'S, SOUTHWARK. OLD L NDON II U R C H E S. ANY historical notice of the Priory of St. Bartholomew the Great, of which the - remaining church is only the choir, must necessarily refer to the famous Rahere, its first canon, who in 1123 founded both the priory and the hospital; but to narrate the story of Rahere, even as it is found in authentic records, would be beyond the scope of these pages.* It must suffice now to remember that Rahere, who, though of humble birth, was a fellow of infinite jest, and of such accomplishments that he w r as a welcome companion of nobles and a guest at the ( Ymrt of Henry I., repented of the vanity of his life, male a pilgrimage to Rome, and after a dream — a vision of St. Bartholomew — founded this church and priory of black canons. The Augustins, or " black canons," so called from their black cassocks and cloaks, were famous builders and famous "leeches," and for the latter reason the hospital flourished. In March, 1123, the priory church was partially completed, and the choir, now remaining as the present church, was consecrated by Richard of Beauvais, Bishop of London. Ten years later the work was finished. Henry II. granted to the priory the privilege of holding a three days' fair for the sale of cloth, in the precinct still called " Cloth Fair;" and during the fair a court of pied poudre (dusty-foot) was held, for the trial then and there of cases arising from grievances or offences among the wayfarers attending the market. For twenty-two years and six months Rahere continued as the active director of the priory and its charitable work, and when, as the chronicler says, he "the clay-house of this world forsook, and the house everlasting lie entered," he was succeeded by Thomas, one of the canons of the Church of St. ( )syth. The choir of the priory, the first portion of the building to be finished, and the only portion remaining, is older than the Temple Church, and only a few years later than the chapel in the White Tower of the Tower of London, to which it bears some resemblance in the grand and massive character of masonry that is still in its pristine condition, recent restorations having left the stone- work untouched, except by sweeping off accumulated dirt and the remains of former whitewash. The ancient structure w r as extensive, as may be perceived by * Dr. Norman Moore, warden and assistant physician to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, lias published the complete text and the ancient translation of the book of the foundation, from the original MS., with many interesting notes and explanations. Mr. W. Morrant Baker, P.R.C.S., surgeon to the hospital, has also published an address delivered by him to the Abernethian Soeiety, on the two foundations of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S: THE TOWER St. BaktholomewV] FROM PRIORY TO PARISH CHURCH. 107 the largo space of ground which it covered. In Bartholomew Close, once the close of the priory, and in the adjacent courts and streets, now covered with houses of no great importance, many relics of the old buildings were to be seen at no remote date; and from documents of 1410 it may be learnt that the various habitations and offices of the priory, including the mulberry garden, the stables, kitchens, refectories, granary, woodshed, and cloisters, occupied a considerable area. When Prior Bolton came to be ruler the buildings were improved, and probably increased, and the church especially was architecturally altered, so far as much of the ornamental portion was concerned. The device or rebus of the prior (the bolt in the tun) is still to be seen here, as at many other places. Bolton was true to the Augustinian tradition at Bartholomew's as well as at Canonbury, where he built the famous tower in the gardens which were the summer retreat of the canons. He died in 1532, and in 1544 the whole of the priory buildings came within the law for the dissolution of monasteries, and the King sold them to Sir Richard Rich, the man who was instrumental in the execution of Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More. It was decreed that the great church within the close should be a parish church for ever, and that the "void ground," 87 feet in length and 50 feet in breadth, should become (and it still is) the churchyard. This void ground was the space formerly occupied by the nave, which had been destroyed, and the graveyard is still all that remains of it, except perhaps a fragment of the south aisle. The buildings that grew up around the church, and almost hid it from sight, were sordid. St. Bartholomew's Fair and the Cattle Market of Smithtield were not calculated to improve the locality ; and though the great hospital increased and prospered with the large grants which it obtained and inherited, the church fell into neglect and decay. It is only from certain points that any part of the church could or can be discerned from the streets. The approach from Smith- field through a ding}' court to the equally dingy graveyard on the left, surrounded on three sides by plaster-fronted houses, and with its gravestones all awry and in various stages of dilapidation, is not compensated by the aspect of the ugly tower above the gateway of the church. The original tower, which occupied the centre, was destroyed at a very early date, and was replaced in 1628 by a hideous structure which had not been improved by later restorations, due entrance gate leading into the church, however, immediately interests the visitor as a fine example of Early English work; and, within the building, the hold freedom and solidity of the vast Norman pillars and arches are as superb and imposing as ever. The aisle, or ambulatory, encircling the body of the church, adds to the sense of space and grandeur. The edifice, about 132 feet long, by 5? feet wide, and 47 feet high to its timber roof, had been damaged in various ways, and was much injured by fire in 1830; but nothing could destroy the grand 108 AB B EYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Bartholomew's proportions of the stonework, though, as the pillars and arches had been white- washed, and the congregation then objected to the lime rubbing off upon their clothes, woodwork was actually placed round the gigantic supports of the arches. Of course, portions of the architecture are of various dates, sonic of it being of the «T. BARTHOLOMEW S. ItEFORE TlfE RESTORATION. Perpendicular period ; but on the whole this building, with the exception of some fragments in other churches, is the host example of good Anglo-Norman archi- tecture in the City. The clerestory represents Early English ; and the tomb of Rahere is Perpendicular, and a very fine example, though overlaid with coarse colouring of comparatively recent date. The windows were altered in the fifteenth century; the floor was raised about the year 1500. Across the western bend of what should have been the eastern apse, a straight wall had been erected, and and St. Saviour's.] PURGATORY.' 109 was painted red, spotted with black stars; and long afterwards, at a distance of a few feet eastward, was built a second wall, pierced with two arches of the time of Charles L, the narrow space between bearing the name of " Purgatory," possibly because of its darkness, or because of a quantity of bones having been ST. BARTHOLOMEW S, AFTER THK RESTORATION. found in a recess behind the altar, as though it bad been above the chancel. Originally, however, the eastern end was terminated by an apse, and the latest reclamations have in view a restoration to what is believed to have been its pristine beauty. Of the tombs and monuments in St. Bartholomew's, few are of great im- portance, except that of Rahere. The recumbent effigy of the prior is remarkable for its elaborate ornamentation, and is a prominent object on the left as Ave approach 110 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Bamholomzw'b the altar. Two brothers of the priory kneel beside the figure, each with a Bible opened at the 51st chapter of Isaiah. There is also the Elizabethan tomb of Sir Walter Mildmay, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and founder of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, who died in 1589. Mildmay was employed with Cecil in the trial and execution of Mary Queen of Scots. Rycroft, the King's printer of the Polyglot, was buried here; and also James Rivers, who died in 1641, and the bust of whom is probably the work of Hubert le Scexir, a famous sculptor, who lived in Bartholomew Close, where John Milton also had a house. Tn the church of St. Bartholomew, William Hogarth was baptised on the 28th of November, 1097; and in the register may be seen the record of the burial, in 1627, of Sir John Hayward, the historian. In 1863 a large and influential meeting was held within the building, under the presidency of the Rev. J. Abbiss, who was then the rector; and the Rev. Thomas Hugo, and Mr. Parker, of * Ixford, each read a paper, one referring to the documents and records and the other to the architecture of the church. An effort was then to be made to repair, restore, and give a new roof to the church, but this could only be done by a general subscription, because of the smallness and comparative poverty of the parish. A sum of £4,01)0 -was required, and in 1865 the work was begun, a committee having been formed under the presidency of Mr. Tite, M.P., and including the Rev. John Abbiss, M.A., Mr. Beresford Hope. Mr. Hardwicke, R.A., Mr. White, the treasurer of the hospital, Mr. Gilpin, the treasurer of Christ's Hospital, and other influential gentlemen. All that could be then accomplished was to reclaim what remained of the noble structure, to reveal what had been overlaid and hidden, and to provide for its preservation. Before that time the north Avail was dangerous: the floor was two or three feet higher than the original and the present level ; the high pews reached nearly up to the capitals of the Norman columns; all the stonework was thickly covered with whitewash; the building was damp and decaying. All this was remedied at a cost of £5,000; but a fringe factory, which had been erected at the east end, remained, a portion of it supported by two iron columns placed within the altar rails, and a smith's shop was at full blast daily in the northern transept. No more could be done for many years; but in 1883, after the death of the Rev. J. Abbiss, and shortly after the induction of the Rev. W. Panckridge, the fringe factory was offered for sale, and an influential committee was at once formed, subscriptions were called for, and above £5,000 was collected for the purchase of the property, leaving £2,200 to be paid; the patron, the Rev. F. Parr Phillips, nephew of the late rector, having undertaken to pay £650 for that part of it which projected into the church, and to expend £1,800 for the completion of the apse in memory of his uncle. The purchase of the factory led to the restoration of the south ambulatorv, and the walls of the lono-- and St. SaviouuV] PAST AND PRESENT. Ill obnoxious building wore found to bo those of a fourteenth-century lady chapel, at the end of which is a fine, daydighted crypt. The funds were not sufficient to excavate and restore this, and it has had to wait, hut much lias been done to the church itself. A new oak roof has replaced the main portion of the old one, which was beyond repair. A new altar and altar steps and new choir stalls have been among the gifts of liberal donors; an organ gallery has been guaranteed by members of the committee, and the organ of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, has been purchased and erected in it. The blacksmith's forge is to disappear, and it is hoped that a sufficient sum will soon be raised to complete a work that, so far as the actual interior of the church is concerned, was well begun and has for the most part been resolutely accomplished. The services are now attended by a large congregation, who can scarcely fail to be interested in the grand and beautiful building, which is open daily to them and to the public, who reverently regard the memory of the founder, and wonder at the story of the. survival of his noble work. The Church of St. Saviour, known in earlier times as St. Mary Overy, may tie regarded as one of the most remarkable parochial churches in the king- dom, as it is almost the sole remaining building of did Soutbwark, and is also one of the few parish churches possessing a " lady chapel." le The wayfarer who passes over London Bridge, and finds himself at tl top of the flight of stone steps leading down to the Borough Market, may re- cognise at a glance that there is a great edifice there demanding his attention, but can scarcely realise the historical importance of the building which has for ages been associated with " the other side of the water," as its distinguishing title of "Overy" once implied. Next to Westminster Abbey, the finest examples of Early English architecture were to be seen in this half-forgotten structure, even after the nave had been taken down, and nothing remained but the choir and the lady chapel. The modern name of "St. Saviour's" has not altogether superseded the historical appellation of St. Mary Overy, by which it was known before the Reformation. We may dismiss the tradition which was preserved by the last prior, Bartholomeo Linsted, that this building arose from the House of Sisters established by Mary, the daughter of a. fern-man named Overy, or Overies, who had accu- mulated considerable wealth ; for the name Overy, or Overey, is evidently derived from over-eye, which means over the river bank, or "over the water," eye or eyot being frequently applied to riverside lands or domains, as Bermund's-eye, Putten-eye, and even Hacon-eye (or Hackney) — on the banks or shoals of the River Lea a village said to lie named after its former owner. It is true that there was a house of Sisters on the bank-side, at or near the spot now occupied by St. 112 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Bartholomew's Saviour's Church, and that it was converted into a college for priests. In 1106 two Norman knights re-founded it as a canonry and priory of the Order of 5 jfe? iStfaiifjllJjiEi.i. 1 ST. SAVIOUR- S, SOUTHWAUK : THE EXTERIOR. Augustin, and Gifford, Bishop of Winchester, built a cathedra] church and palace in Winchester Yard. These perished in a great tiro in 1212, and the church was not rebuilt til] near the end of the fourteenth century, when Gower, the poet, who lived close by, contributed largely to the lands. In 1 4< *4 Cardinal Beaufort was made Bishop of Winchester; and in 1 lot! the marriage of Edmund Holland Ear] of Kent, and Lucia, the daughter of the Lord of Milan, was celebrated here, King Henry IV. giving away the bride at the church door. Eight years afterwards James I. of Scotland was married hero to the niece of the great Cardinal — the daughter of the Ear] of Beaufort — dames having met the lady at Windsor while he was then; 1 as a prisoner. On the dissolution of religious houses In 1539, the "black canons" who held the priory were dispersed, but the prior, Linsted, obtained from the King a pension of £100 a year — a fair sum in those days. The inhabitants of the joint parishes of St. Mary Mao-dalen and St. Margaret-at-Hill, assisted by Stephen Gardiner, who had been appointed Bishop of Winchester, then bought the priory church ; churchwardens were appointed, and the building became the parish church of St. Saviour. and St. Saviour's.] TO WHAT BASE USES.' 113 In 1611, James [.(for a valuable consideration) granted by letters patent to tin 1 churchwardens and parishioners, " in free soccage," the rectory and parish church, together with all the glebe, lands, tithes, oblations, and so on. In con- sideration of tins, the said churchwardens and parishioners were compelled to provide a fit house for a grammar school, and to keep a good master to teach the children of the parish at a salary of £20 a year, with an usher who received £10 a year, and also to provide two chaplains to preach in the church for £30 a year each. This was the foundation of St. Saviour's Grammar School, and the conditions were observed till the year 1072, when the salaries were found to be insufficient, and were raised by Act of Parliament to £100 a year for each of the chaplains, and £30 a year each for the master and usher, the head master being probably one of the chaplains. For defraying these sums, and for the repairs of the church, the churchwardens were empowered to claim from the parishioners, in lieu of tithes, the sum of £350 per annum, "clear of reprizes;" hut change followed change, and Chamberlain, writing in 1760, says : — " The profits arising to the two chaplains are at this time said to amount to above £300 per annum." Numerous alterations or restorations had then been effected in the church itself. The lady chapel at the east end was preserved, hut the rest of the building was defaced by brick and plaster, which was not removed till 1822, when the beautiful Gothic architecture was revealed, the groined roof and transepts were restored, and a. tine circular window was constructed. Unfortunately a nave was added to the building, with the result that the former magnificent perspective of the aisle and choir was seriously impaired, but the line proportions of the edifice and its cathedrahlike character remained. due tower, though not older than the sixteenth century, is a remarkable feature of the church, as it is 35 feet square, and rises 150 feet above the intersection of the nave, transept, and choir, supported by four massy pillars with clustered columns. The interior of the tower con- sists of four storeys, the uppermost containing the bells. Five grand and lofty pointed arches extend from the pillars supporting the tower to the altar screen at the east end of the choir, and the choir itself is divided by a richly- decorated screen from the lady chapel, which was restored by public subscription in 1832; but it is a wonder that any of the original structure remained, for when the church had been purchased by the parishioners, after the Reformation, this chapel was let as a bakehouse, and was used not only for a bakery, but as a storehouse for the billets and firewood, as well as for the meal used by its tenants. Nine groined arches dividing tl c roof of this chapel are supported by two rows of six octangular pillars, with small circular columns at the four points; and the large window at the east end, on the north side, is divided by slender pillars into three lancet- shaped windows. At the north-east corner a wooden enclosure, containing a table, desk, and high seat, was formerly used as the Bishop's court, where Ill ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Saviour's. the Bishop of Winchester transacted business until the early part of the present century. The chapel of St. Mary Magdalen, founded by Peter de Rupibus, and removed in 18"32, was on the east side of the south transept ; another chapel, called " Bishop Andrewes' Chapel," stood at the east end of the lady chapel, but this also was removed, and the tomb of the bishop (he was one of the translators of the Bible), which occupied the centre of it, was transferred to the lady chapel. Many of the tombs and monuments of St. Saviour's are peculiarly interesting, because of their associations with the poets and dramatists and players who lived in the district, or were connected with the theatres (the Rose, the Globe, and Paris Garden being the most important) which stood on Bankside, and have themselves become historical. Gower, though one of the earliest and most muni- ficent patrons of the priory and the church, is not the only poet who was laid within its precincts, though some of the graves are unmarked with stone or memorial. Sir Edward Dyer, who lived and died in Winchester House, was buried in the chancel on the 11th of May, 1G07. Edward Shakespeare, "player," the youngest brother of the great dramatist, was buried in tin; church on December 31st, 1607. Here also Lawrence Fletcher, one of the principal shareholders in the Globe and the Blackfriars Theatres, and William Shakespeare's "fellow," was laid, on September 12th, 1608. Philip Henslow, the manager, who wrote the curious "Account Book," was buried in the chancel in January, 1615-16. John Fletcher (Beaumont and Fletcher) was interred in the church on August 29th, 1625. Philip Massinger was laid to rest in the churchyard March 18th, 1638-39. This, indeed, continued to be a great burying-ground to a much later date, for it is said that from 1826 to 1835 the interments amounted to above 5,000, and from 1836 to 1845 to nearly 3,000. Among- the monuments in the church may be noticed those of John Trehearne, gentleman-porter to dames I., with half-length effigies of himself ami his wife; -John Bingham, saddler to Elizabeth and dames 1.; Alderman Humble and his wife {temp. James I.); William Austin, a. gentleman of importance in Southwark at the same period; and Lockyer (1672), a famous empiric, whose full- length figure may be seen in the north transept. Thomas Akciiei; HOLY TRINITY, COLCHESTER; BARNACK ; EARLS BARTON; ST. BENET'S, CAMBRIDGE; AND ST. MICHAEL'S, OXFORD. REMNANTS OF "SAXON" CHURCHES. )Y certain "Anglican Catholics" in the present age, a church which in ground- plan was an oblong, with a small apse at the eastern end, would be regarded as an abomination. Indeed, there are, we believe, those who regard a cruciform plan as endued with some special virtue. Yet there was a time when, so far as we can learn, cruciform churches were unknown; there was, perhaps, a time when they were regarded as unauthorised and revolutionary innovations. The simple rectangle with an apse, the plan sometimes adopted in our despised later seven- teenth and older eighteenth century churches, was that in use in the earlier centuries of Western Christianity; not, indeed, in the earliest, for then its followers were not permitted to have any church at all, hut worshipped in the chance " upper chambers" or in the " dens and caves " of the earth, such as the recesses of the ( ata- combs. In short, the most ancient form id' the < Ihristian church was that of the basilica, a structure raised after the pattern of the town-hall or court-house of the Romans; sometimes, indeed, one which had actually been built for this or some like purpose. It was, m fact, a place of assembly: il was only hv degrees that the idea id the celebration of mysteries, and so what we may call the Temple plan, was recalled. Then the chancel, from being, as the name implies, merely a space enclosed with a railing, became a separate building — an adytum, or holy of holies, after which, probably by way of distinction from the heathen temple, the addition of a transept produced the cruciform design. The earliest churches which remain to us in Britain as anything but the merest fragments exhibit an intermediate stage in these designs. They are usually oblong in plan, hut with separate chancels and western towers, indicating by the last-named feature a comparatively late period of development. That this tower is, in a certain sense, an excrescence, is indicated by the fact that the main entrance to the church is not, as afterwards it often was, through a door in the tower, but directly into the body through the south side. This was the usual plan of a "Saxon" church, that is, of one of those built after the faith introduced by Augustine had ceased to be an exotic, and before the influence of Norman civilisation had made itself felt. This long period — at least three full centuries (it is difficult to know when we should begin to reckon) — was not, on the whole, a favourable one to church building'. Men were too much harried by the Northern rovers; sometimes they were hardly able to restore what these had burned. Moreover, much of the work of this early date, 116 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Holy Trinity, Colciiesteii rude and ungraceful, would be an offence to the Norman priests; and in the days which followed the Conquest, church rebuilding, like church restoration in a later period, would become a promising pathway to episcopal favour and the "refreshing dew of ecclesiastical promotion." Notwithstanding all this, Uickman enumerates one hundred and twenty churches which may claim to lie either distinctly anterior to the Norman Conquest, or, if a few years later in actual date, such complete HOLY TRINITY, COLCIIESTEII. survivals of the earlier style, that they may as fairly claim to lie reckoned with it as the Abbey of Harold at Waltham may be counted will: the newer work. Very few of these churches are at all perfect. Perhaps the most perfect — that of Bradford-on-Avon, exhumed from encrusting buildings during the last few years — is no longer used for worship. A large number either have been so modified that the earlier work is with difficulty discovered, or have been com- pletely rebuilt. The feature which has very commonly escaped best — probably from utilitarian motives — is the tower. Five examples of this structure will be the subject of the present article. Sir Gr. (I. Scott, in his history of English church architecture, expresses the opinion that the oldest English churches may lie divided into three groups. First Holy Tiunity, CotciiERTEH ] THE ANCIENT COLCHESTER 117 come those which preceded the Danish invasion, of winch the best examples are the churches of Bradford-on-Avon, near Bath, Win-, near Leighton Buzzard, and Brixworth, near Northampton ; th up to the Norman Conquest, ne second, those from the above epoch to the invasion of Sweyn, to which period may be referred the church in Dover Castle Holy Trinity at Colchester, Barnack, Earls Barton, Barton-on-Humber, Wootton Wawen, and others; to the third period, lastin belong the towers of St. Benet's, Cam- bridge; St. Michael's, Oxford; St. Mary's and St. Peter's, Lincoln, &c. < >ur examples in the present article are taken, as will be seen, from the second and third of the above groups. Earliest of these, in one sense, is Holy Trinity, Colchester, for the materials of which it is constructed are in themselves very old. Colchester was, in its day, an important Roman station. The sack of Camulodunum by the insurgent Britons in the days of Tacitus was an event almost as memorable at Rome as in our generation the fall of Cawnpore has been in England. The county of Essex has plenty of clay and but little stone; the latter also is of small value for building purposes, while the former makes excellent bricks; so these were largely used at Camulodunum, and as the overlookers were Romans, were, it is almost needless to say, of the best. So when the Roman city went to ruin, and peasants built their cottages among its deserted public build- ings, the remnants of a higher civilisation formed an excellent quarry, and a large part of mediaeval Colchester — notably the castle, the priory of St. Botolph, and the tower of Holy Trinity Church — were constructed mainly of bricks from the Roman ruins. The tower may be briefly described. It is the outcome of a time when there was little knowledge of art, and probably little money to expend on decoration. The greater part of it, as we see it, is the original structure, though one or two windows have been pierced at a later date, and the last few feet are a modern addition. It is roughly built of Roman brick which has been plastered — perhaps from the first; the old windows are of HOLY TIUNITY, COLCHESTER: THE "WEST DOOE. the simplest possible type— mere round-headed openings, splayed and shaftless. 118 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Eaulb Baxton. The small entrance door is the most interesting feature. It has rectangular piers, square capitals of the simplest form, and a triangular "arch," with a simple hood-moulding. The ground-floor chamber of the tower is connected with the body of the church by a large arched opening. This, together with the lower part (if the eastern wall of the tower, is considered by some authorities to be of yet earlier date than the rest of the building. The body of the church is much more modern than the tower, and there is little of interest m its archi- tecture or in its history. The church of Earls Barton, in Northamptonshire, stands high up on the left bank of the Nen, and occupies a commanding position near the top of a little eminence in the village itself. The tower alone is earlier than the Norman Conquest, the remainder of the church being a structure of more than one age. Evidently the pastor of Earls Barton has boon generally favoured by wealthy parishioners or patrons. The tower itself is, for its period, large, substantially built, and con- siderably ornamented. The Norman architects, who swept away all the rest of the "Saxon" church, erected a very ornate structure, nearly as large as the present one, and this too lias been to a large extent rebuilt. The tower consists of four stages, each slightly smaller than the one below it. The quoins, pilasters, window mouldings, &c, are worked from a shelly oolite; the rest of the masonry is irregular, and has been wholly covered with rough- cast. There is, as usual, long and short work at the corners, and thin, shallow pilasters divide the face of the intermediate wall into panels, hut these are com- bined with occasional rows of small semicircular or triangular arches. The belfry windows are also rather peculiar. They have five lights; the semicircular heads are sculptured, rudely and feebly, out of a rough block of stone, and the baluster shafts, which often seem inadequately small, are here disproportionately large. There is a small western door, where the inner order of the arch is also formed by a single block; trimmed blocks, relieved by a shallow arcading, serve as capitals. The old work remains, on the whole, in excellent preserva- tion, to just above the top of the belfry windows; beyond that all is compara- tively modern. The church must lie passed over briefly, though there is much in it to interest the antiquarian. The south door is Norman, with ornamented mouldings and shafts, the chancel arch retains some work of the same period, and in the lower parts of both its north and south walls a rich Norman arcading still remains. The eastern part of that on the south side consists of three bays rising in steps. As these seem hardly wide enough for sedilia, thoy probably indicate the former position of the steps leading to the high altar, so that the original Norman chancel must have been nearly, if not quite, as long as the present one. The Barnack.] FAMOUS QUARRIES. 119 remainder of the clrarch is Late Decorated or Perpendicular in stylo. It contains a good Jacobean pulpit in black oak, and a rather plain fifteenth century wooden screen, on which there lias been an attempt to restore the original painting. The oak roof, however, is modern, like the fittings, the whole church having been very carefully vestured some years since. Barnack Church, in the same county, is even more interesting than Earls Barton, for in it Ave find an example of each architectural style which, in turn, prevailed during a period of four centuries. The lower in its lower stages is Saxon ; its upper stage, the southern door, and the pier-arches of the nave, indicate the transi- tion from Norman to Early English. The south porch is in the latter style; one of its chapels dates from more than one part of the Decorated period; the largest is Perpendicular. The tower is less elaborately ornamented, but rather more highly finished, than that at Earls Barton ; but whether the latter feature is due to a differ- ence in date or a superiority of constructive material, is hard to say. At Barnack, it must be remembered, were the famous quarries from which was built many a church, not only in all the country round, but also far away in the stoneless Fenland of Eastern England. All about the village the broken ground and the roughness of the sward tell where once the stone was quarried, for no more has been obtainable for many a long year. An interesting and perplexing feature in the tower of Barnack is three sculptured stones built into the wall at the base of the second stage, and thus at a considerable height from the ground. Are they of the same date as the tower, or have they been subsequently inserted ? From below they appear to be integral parts of the structure, but the bold and free style of the decoration — foliated scroll-work — and the execution of the animal figures on the top of each stone seem to indicate a rather later date. Com- pare with these the awkward and timid attempts at ornamentation on the various arches in the tower, especially on the large one opening into the nave. This, though it has two orders, is perfectly plain, and the curious arrangement of horizontal fillet-mouldings — if such a term be correctly applied — which does duty for capitals shows neither constructive skill nor architectural knowledge. Here also we must pass briefly over the rest of the church, though at Barnack there is, if possible, even more to detain us than at Earls Barton. The Late Norman arches of the nave, with their marked differences of design and ornamentation ; the singular little clerestory above, with its square open- ings and trefoil lights; the porch, with its high-pitched stone roof; the stone staircase and groining, inserted into the old Saxon tower at the end of the twelfth century, when the bell-chamber and low spire were added; the chapels and their tombs; with all the structural alterations made in the church from the beginning of the fourteenth to the end of the fifteenth century, render it hard 120 ABBEYS AND CHURCH EH. [St. Benet's, C'AMiiumriE. to tear ourselves away from so interesting a building, which is, moreover, in excellent order, and has not been too much restored. The village, too, is worthy of the church. The stone-built houses — not a few of them ancient — are neat and picturesque. The rectory, where Charles Kingsley passed a part of his childhood, is entirely in keeping with church and village. Between it and Stamford are the stately woods of Burgh- ley, and all the country round is plea- sant to the wayfarer. The tower of St. Benedict's Church — EARLS EAltTON. familiarly called St. Be net's — at Cambridge is, on the whole, in good preservation. It consists of three stages, con- structed of rude stonework, originally covered 1))' rough-cast, with long and short work at tin.' corners. The lowest storey, which takes up about half the building, has been much knocked about, a door and windows having been pierced at a much later period; the next storey is without any windows; the third has an abundance. A description of one face Avill suffice for all. In the centre, resting on a string-course, is a window of two lights, the semicircular heads of which are cut out of one block of stone; these are separated by a single lathe-turned column. This, as the walls are thick, has a curiously insufficient appearance. On either side, and not ranging with the above, are two simple round-headed windows, and diagonally and irregularly above each of these is a single stone pierced with a round hole. In St. Michael's, Oxford.] AN ANCIENT ARCH. 12 the cast wall of the tower, communi- cating with the church, is an arch of simple but rather pleasing design, and above tin's a niche. The church was re- built, probably, in the thirteenth century, and has been a good deal altered sub- sequently, but a fragment with the characteristic long and short work still re- mains at the north-east angle of the nave. Tins church is attached to Corpus Christi College, literally as well as figura- tively, and was used as its chapel from the date of the foundation — that is, from the year 1353 — to about 1580, when a separate chapel was built, chiefly by the munificence of Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal of England. However, strictly speaking, for nearly a century before the latter date the College had not actually used the church, but a chapel attached to the south side of the chancel. 3T. BESET s, CAMTHIHOE : ARIJI] IN THE TOWER. The tower of St. Michael's, Oxford, is very similar to, but yet plainer than, that of St. Benet's, Cambridge. In one respect, however, it is less altered. Neither door nor window has been pierced through the lowest storey. Its exterior is a solid mass of masonry, and, as it rises directly from the street pavement and is level with the houses, which are actually built against its northern side, it suggests the idea of a structure for defence more than for ornament. The next stage has one rude, round-headed opening ; the third and fourth have windows similar to, but a shade more highly finished than, those at Cambridge. The church has been reconstructed at more than one period, is of small size, and not remarkable. There is a tiny churchyard on the south, and on the east houses rise within two or three paces of the chancel. r p_ q Bo-nney ST. MARY REDOLIFFE. A LIFE'S FAILURE. I)RISTOL lias no public building so wondrously beautiful in form and detail, ) or so rich in historical associations, as the church of St. Alary Redcliffe, and nowhere has the munificence of its merchant princes been more freely be- stowed than upon this 1L pride of Bristowe and the western lande." It enjoys, indeed, no mere local lame, for by the concurrent testimony of Leland, Fuller, and Camden, it takes rank as, in the words of the last named, "on all accounts the first parish church in England." But it has attained its widest, its deathless renown from the close link which hinds its name to the tragic story of tin; boy- poet, Thomas Chatterton, one of the saddest in all the long annals of unappreciated genius. It is seldom possible to apply the Berkeleian theory, and discover the external, exciting cause of a literary genesis; hut the monk, Thomas Rowley, would never have been invented, the manuscripts which Horace Walpole accepted as genuine would never have been written, but for the overmaster- ing influence upon Chatterton's mental being of the ancient church of St. Mary Redcliffe, under whose shadow lie was horn and brought up, beside whose monuments he sat and meditated, and among whose muniments he rummaged at will. No one, therefore, can hope to compre- hend his character without catching something of the spell under which he lived. The right way for a- stranger to approach Red- cliffe ' 'hurch, so as to he duly im- TllE EXTEKIOR. p 1' C S S C d ).) y ltS St. Mary Redclifpp..] THE NORTH PORCH 123 grandeur, is by the winding thoroughfare of Redcliffc Street, leading from the centre of the city. The effect upon his mind must have been even more strik- ing when this street was as it is still to be seen in a painting by John Syer — much narrower than at present, with over- hanging gabled houses, which have been swept away to make room for lofty warehouses. As it is, the stranger emerges from an avenue of houses upon a com- paratively open space, to see the roadway make a sharp ascent, at the summit of which, on a natural terrace, stands Redcliffe Church, the massive steeple springing straight from the ground to a height of 300 feet. "It must have been begun when Bishop Poore was building Salisbury Cathedral, at the commencement of the thirteenth century, resumed when Henry TIT was rebuilding Westminster Abbey Church, and completed to the spring of the spire while Edward I. was erecting his memorial crosses at the close of the same century." The capstone of the spire was put on in May, 1872, it having been previously, for some four centuries, trun- cated just above the tops of the four pinnacles. Directly to the east of the tower is the famous north porch, of Early English date; it is hexagonal in form, and is absolutely unique, so far as this country is concerned. The complex design and elaboration of detail which mark its ornament without and within are marvellous to behold. In a low second storey is a small chamber, called the Treasury, where Chatterton found his parchments. The church itself is in the form of a cross, and is remarkable for the fact that the transepts as well as the chancel have double aisles, a feature by no means common even in cathedrals. The instructed observer can, of course, discriminate the different periods of different parts of the structure, but they all blend together into a highly harmonious whole, which acquires a very rich and beautiful effect from the abundance of flying buttresses and pinnacled parapets, and from the lofty windows and handsome panelling of the THE LNTE1UOK. J 24 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. AIauy Keticliffe. Perpendicular clerestory. The work of the same period predominates in the interior, where the striking individuality of St. Mary Redcliffe is as strongly marked as in its ground-plan. There is no triforium, or even horizontal string-course, between the arches and the clerestory either in nave or in chancel, but the Avail space, instead of being left plain, is richly panelled. The vaulted roof, rich in ornament, is supported on shafts which spring from the floor, without any break, and con- tribute much to the impression of singular loftiness and lightness winch is recognised as the general effect of the interior. Closing in the long vista, looking from west to east, is the lady chapel, supported on an archway, for a thoroughfare passes beneath, as is the case with some of the Exeter city churches. In the dark age of the English Church it was used as a school, lint in recent times it has been restored at the expense of the fraternity of Freemasons. The present church is the third which has stood upon the site; and the story of its building is one of unusual interest, for it has enshrined tin' name of Canynges in the annals of Bristol. It is recorded in the Mayor's Calendar, under date 1376, that Wm. Canynges ''built the body of Redcliffe Church, from the cross aisle westward." His grandson, another Wm. Canvnges, when Mayor for the first time in 144"J, set himself to " edifye, repayre, cover, and glaze" the church which his grandfather had partially rebuilt. This Canynges was a merchant who accumulated enormous wealth and vast in- fluence by his enterprises; he was live times Mayor of his native city, which he also represented in Parliament, and at his house in Redcliffe Street, of which a portion is still preserved, he entertained Queen Margaret of Anjou, and sub- sequently King Edward IV. As an indication of the influence he enjoyed, it nun' lie mentioned that in 1 1411 King Henry VI. addressed special letters of commen- dation to the Master General of Prussia and the magistrates of Dantzic, praying them to favour Canynges' factors, established within their jurisdiction, and to advance the interest of his "beloved eminent merchant of Bristol;" and about the same time Christian, King of Denmark, as a mark of special favour, allowed Canynges to trade at certain ports to which English ships were prohibited from going. Such was the man who was just completing his ancestor's work upon their parish church, when, during a great storm in 144"), the spire fell down and crashed through the roof of the nave, destroying several hays of it. Nothing daunted, Canynges set to work to rebuild the church upon a grander scale than ever, and all the; Late Perpendicular work we have described is his. William of CHATTJiKTON. S'f. MaISY liEKCLIFFK.] WILLIAM GANYNGES. 125 Worcester, who was living in Bristol at this lime, lias preserved many interesting details regarding Canynges' master builder Norton, and lias given a minute de- scription ef the building, which is of great value to the architectural student. Canynges, whose other benefactions to Rcdcliffe parish were most numerous, took holy orders later in life, after the death of his wife, whom he dearly loved, THE UEUEDOS. sinirinu' bis first mass, of course, at St. Mary's, and retired to the college of Westbury-upon-Tiym, "f which he subsequently became Dean, and where he died about 1474. There is a very dramatic version of the motive for bis retire- ment from the world given in the Mayor's Calendar, which does not posses., the merit of being true. It is to the effect that when Canynges became a widower the kino-, with an eye no doubt to conduct his wealth into some chosen family, commanded him to marry a lady of royal selection, and that he forthwith entered the priesthood rather than do so. Nearly three centuries elapse as we pass from the story of the wealthy merchant who made St. Mary's beautiful, to that of the poor lawyer's clerk who 126 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Mauy Eedcliffk. made it famous. Thomas Chatterton's family had, for some generations, held a minor office in connection with Redcliffe Church, and his father was master of a free school, still existing 1 , within its shadow on the northern side Here Thomas was born on the 20th of November, 17o-i, Lis misfortunes having begun even before he opened his eyes upon the world he was to find so cruel, for lus father had died three months before. His mother, when she had to quit the schoolhouse, took up her abode close by, on the western side of the church. This magnificent structure therefore coloured his earliest impressions, and, beyond all doubt, deter- mined the bent of his mind. It must be remembered to his credit that he appreciated and admitted its wondrous beauty in an age when polite critics all regarded Gothic architecture as rude and barbarous. We could readily believe, if the fact were not distinctly recorded, that with his dreamy poetic disposition he would, even as a child, haunt the church, and spend hours in silent thought beside Canynges' tomb. He got to know every nook and coiner of the building, and in the Treasury, above the north porch, he found an ancient chest, known as Canynges' coffer, in which, with reckless unconcern, was left loose and unpro- tected a number of old parchments, to which no value was attached, as they were not actually title-deeds of property. These afforded him material on which to work when the fictitious monk, Thomas Rowley, had assumed definite form and substance in his imaginative brain, and he had resolved to bestow upon the world some of tin; manuscripts of this supposed contemporary of Canynges. If any scruples entered his mind as to the propriety of so doing, the miseries of his position were enough to goad him into taking any means winch promised him release therefrom. The children of the poor cannot live in idleness, and he was at the age of fourteen years apprenticed to a Bristol attorney, named Lambert. His office hours, twelve a day, seem nowadays cruelly excessive, though they were not so regarded even within living memory; but Lambert was a hard taskmaster, with no power of appreciating the genius he was entertaining, whom he subjected to the keenly felt indignity of sleeping with the footboy. After two years of tins cruel existence Rowley was brought upon the scene, and Dodsley, the publisher, was offered the opportunity of acquiring several of Rowley's poems, and ''an interlude, perhaps the oldest dramatic poem extant." But the publisher did not bite, even when he was offered the tragedy of " .3511a," another pseudo antique, in reality a very powerful performance of Chatterton's, for the small sum of one guinea. Then a fresh line was baited, and Horace Walpole, at the time engaged upon his " Anecdotes of British Painters," was promised some information regarding eminent painters who had flourished in Bristol, as well as some old poems. Walpole rose to this tempting bait, and was in reply furnished with "a Historic of IVyncters of Englande bie Thomas Rowley." At, the same time Chatterton ventured to make a pathetic statement St. Maky KEi.cLiiui.] TEE BOY POET. 127 of his poor and uncongenial condition, and to beseech the great man's aid to place him in sonic position in which lie could indulge his natural inclination towards literature. To this he received a. most unfeeling reply, urging him to stick to his business. Moreover, his ill-starred manuscripts were now suspected and submitted to experts, who pronounced them forgeries. The contemptuous manner in which Walpole announced this conclusion reduced Chatterton to despair; he was turned out of doors by his master as worthless, and went to London, as so many others have done before and since, hoping to gain a living by bis pen. But the friendless boy met failure everywhere, and even when in a state of starvation bis spirit was too proud to confess it to those who would have relieved such distress as that. 80 after four months of miser)' he poisoned himself, not being then eighteen years of age. When this last fact is taken into consideration, the power displayed in Chatterton's poems is something marvellous, and it is an unquestionable loss to literature that his life was so miserable and misguided, and his death so early. His apologists urge that his Rowley manuscripts are no more forgeries than Walpole's "Castle of Otranto," which was put forth as a translation. But fictions of the latter kind are recognised, whether we approve them or not, as part of the literary stock-in-trade, just like the solemn asseverations of the truth of his stories indulged in by such a writer as another gifted son of Bristol, whose career was as untimely cut short, if his lot was happier — Hugh Conway. But Chatterton represented his Rowley productions as actually ancient documents, and, indeed, palmed several of them off upon an old surgeon named Barrett, who was writing a " History of Bristol." His conduct, therefore, cannot be justified, although abundant excuses can be found for it in the hardships which made his life so wretched, and eventually unhinged a mind so full of promise. A memorial cross now stands in the churchyard opposite the north porch, which is especiallv associated with his memory. But other traditions, of a less gloomy character, linger round the stately church of St. Mary Redcliffe. William of Wykeham was vicar of this parish before be went to Winchester to carry out his noble projects there. The long aisles once re-echoed to the voice of George Whitfield, who has written of the occasion that lie preached "to such a congregation as my eyes never yet saw, with great liberty and demonstration of the Spirit." Robert Southey was a native of Bristol, and Coleridge, coming here to confer with him upon their scheme for emigrating to the banks of the Susquehanna to found yet another ideal commonwealth, took up his residence in the city. So it came to pass that Red- cliffe Church was the scene of an important event in both their lives. lien 1 in the year 1795 Coleridge married Sarah Frickcr, and Southey her sister Edith, the latter departing for Portugal actually on his wedding day. The bride and 123 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Maby Eedclote. the groom shook hands and parted in silence after the ceremony, the poet being at this time so peer that his friend Cottle, the bookseller, had to lend him the money to pay the necessary fees. The ladies were both beautiful, and were milliners of Bristol, not of Bath, as Lord Byron speaks of them in "Don Juan." On Whit (Sunday a quaint old custom, dating from the year 1494, is care- fully observed. In fulfilment of a bequest then made by one William Mede, who had been three times Mayor of Bristol, the church is strewn with reeds and flowers, the fine peal of eight bells rings merrily, and the Mayor and members of the Corporation, clad in the crimson robes winch here, at least, the Municipal Reform Act did not abolish, attend the morning service in state, and return to the Council House to drink mulled wme. On November 13th in every year the anniversary of Edward Colston, the great Bristol philanthropist, is honoured by three societies, who contrive a unique combination of the essentially British institution of dining together, of politics, and of charity, though it must in justice be added that with them, as with the Apostle, " the greatest of these is charity," As the hour of midnight marks the beginning of that anniversary, the sweet hells of Redcliffe ring a muffled peal, which sounds over the silent city and echoes round the valley with a weird and solemn music not to be forgotten by those who have once heard it. During the present century the noble church has been worthily restored. The work began in 1842, when the removal of the dwelling-houses with which human vandalism and greed had encrusted it showed the need of reparation; it occupied thirty years in completion, and is estimated to have involved an expendi- ture of £40,000. The raising of this large sum was not without its element of romance and mystery, for the committee were encouraged from time to time by munificent gifts from an anonymous contributor, who was only known to them under the pseudonym of "Nil Desperandum," and who furnished the whole sum of something Like £2,500 for the restoration of the fai s north porch. Many guesses were made, but only after his death was "Nil Desperandum" identified with a prominent citizen— Thornas Proctor. Harold kiwis S T. M A R Y'S, WARWICK. TOMBS OF THE BEAUCHAMPS. TTUAV towns in England have a name more familiar to readers of oar country's -*- history than Warwick, for it gave a title to one. of the "real: families which in the Middle Ages so much helped to make that history. Its castle was their THE BEAUCHAMP CHAPEL. principal home ; in its mother-church several of their members were laid to rest' Not indeed all. It is rare to find that, in the days of Plantagenet and Tudor Icings, son followed father witlamt a break in the succession of generations to the same place of sepulchre; the fortune of war, the king's pleasure or dis- pleasure, the regard of this or that representative for some religious house which he had founded or endowed, all have combined in dispersing far and 130 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Si. Mauy's, wide over England, oven over Europe, the monuments of those who were in turn tin.' coronet. The castle, which fur centuries has been the dwelling-place of the Earls of Warwick, is surpassed in its situation by but few in England. Perched on a sandstone knoll by the side of the Avon, it rises like a great crag from the river; its walls command a fair prospect of rich sward and clustered trees, hacked by slopes of held and copse. A residence of the family for so many centuries, and exceptionally rich — notwithstanding the disastrous lire from which it suffered a few years since — in relics of ancient days and in works of art, it is one of the most interesting among the stately homes of England. The situation of the church is hardly less tine. The town is built upon a lull, of which the castle occupies one edge. From it the ground shelves upwards, to form a broad and moderately level plateau; and on the highest part of this a church was built, which has for centuries been the mother-church of the town. Thus, from far and wide, from windings of the valley, from many an undulation of the neighbouring district, its lofty tower forms a. conspicuous landmark, indi- cating the position of the county town, and calling up memories of a family whose power at one time was little less than regal. St. Mary's Church occupies a site which has been consecrated ground for many centuries. The date of the foundation is not known, hut it is certainly anterior to tin; Norman Conquest. Warwick town, indeed, has a history which reaches so far back that the site of its principal church may have become con- secrated ground no long time after the missionaries of Gregory won back England to Christianity. Certain it is that Warwick was destroyed by the Danes, and was rebuilt by Ethelfleda, the worthy daughter of the great Alfred, who laid the foundation of its castle about the 1 year 915. Some antiquaries even carry back the lists of its Earls to the days of Kim;' Arthur, bui we fear the sceptical students of the nineteenth century look askance at many of the names, and even demur to the veracious history of Guy, slayer of a giant, a dun cow, and a dragon, though he is said to have flourished in the days of Ethelfleda, and though the}* exhibit his armour and porringer unto this day in Warwick Castle. While, so far as we are aware, there is no clear statement of the fact in history, it is highly probable that a church has occupied this site on the hill from a very early period. At any rate, when the commissioners of the Norman Con- queror came to Warwick, St. Mary's Church was in existence, and hail been endowed with a hide of land l>v Turchil, who was Earl of Warwick when William landed in Sussex. No part, however, of that church now remains. Probably, before long (lie architects took it in hand, for the first Norman earl, Roger de Newburgh, was not unmindful of the religious wants of the place from which he took his title. Not only did he augment the endowments of the church, hut WAinv.rK] THE PRESENT CHURCH. 131 also ho made it a collegiate inundation, with a dean, secular canons, priests, and choristers. Hi* son increased its revenues, and successive Earls of Warwick added to the endowments. The other churches of the town by degrees, and sometimes not without a struggle, were reduced to the position of mere de- pendencies; and at the time of the Reformation St. Mary's possessed a rich store of relies, and an annual revenue of considerably more than three hundred pounds. Of the church which was then standing, only the eastern half remains. In the year 1691 a great tire broke out in Warwick, which destroyed a considerable part of the town, together with the tower and nave of St. Mary's. This was rebuilt shortly afterwards, Queen Anne contributing a thousand pounds to the restoration fund. The present church is cruciform in plan, with a western tower, the transepts being rather short, the choir comparatively long. At a glance, it is evident that the whole structure west of the choir belongs to the last rebuilding. It is no less evident that, to a certain extent, an effort was made to reproduce the distinctive features of the ruined church. The leading lines of the nave, and yet more of the tower, suggest a structure in the Perpendicular style, but every detail indi- cates the influence of the Renaissance. The tracery of the nave windows would have been the death of a pre-Reformation architect. The ornamentation of the tower is in the style of Wren or of Vanbrugh. Everywhere is the classic "peard" beneath the Gothic "muffler." The towers of Westminster Abbey afford a some- what parallel case, but witli a less satisfactory result, for St. Mary's tower is impressive at a distance. The architect,* handling a style of which probably ho had but small knowledge, and with which lie had little sympathy, has, never- theless, shown that a vigorous arm was wielding the unfamiliar weapon. The result is far better than the feeble efforts which signalised the early days of the Victorian "Gothic revival." With all its incongruities, the tower of Warwick Church is by no means a failure. In some ways, it is even better than much work that the above-named revival has produced. It is like a poem written by a man of genius in a language which lie had imperfectly learnt, rather than tic verse copy of the dull, but correctly taught, schoolboy. The tower is supported on arches, covering the footway of tin 1 street, and its pinnacles rise to a height of 174 feet. The interior of the nave offers little to detain the visitor. It is like many of the "semi-Gothic" churches to which we have already alluded; having rather lofty aisles, columns indecisive in design, and a flatfish roof. It is fitted up with pews which recall the days of our child- hood, before church restoration had become general. Such monuments as it contains are in almost every case later than the conflagration, for this destroyed several of considerable interest which once found a place in the western part * Often said to be Sir 0. Wren, but really Sir W. Wilson. 132 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Maky'f, of the church. Passing eastwards, we note in the east wall of the southern transept an elaborate doorway in a style which recalls the work of Tudor times, but is influenced also by Renaissance feeling. This leads into the famous Beau- champ Chapel, and is probably a restoration of the original door, executed after the great tire. The northern transept opens out on its eastern side to three con- nected chapels, of which one is used as a vestry; and that in the middle has an apse projecting to tic north. This was the chapter-house of the collegiate church, Imt it is now occupied and considerably blocked up by a heavy canopied Jacobean monument commemorating " Fnlke Grrevill " (Lord Brooke), ''servant to Quecne Elizabeth, concellor to King James, and trend to Sir Philip Sidney. 11 In a third room is a monument to Francis Parker, tutor, secretary, and steward to the Brooke family, who died in the year 1693, and another large canopied fonib to Sir Thomas Puckering, who died in the 1 year 1636. This part of the church has been restored, and during the work a tine stone screen between the last-named room and the vestry was discovered, cleaned, and repaired. The choir, the floor of which is on a higher level than that of the nave, and is interrupted by more than one step, fortunately escaped the conflagration, and has been restored of late years. Its style is Perpendicular. The roof is of stone, supported by ribs, which are partly detached, like a flying buttress. The windows are large, and not elaborate in design, and the lower half of those on the north and south are blocked, so as to form a sculptured panelling. The upper part of most of them is tilled with modern stained glass, that in the large east window, to the memory of the Rev. J. Bondier, a former vicar, being rather good. The reredos, of marble and alabaster, is modern; so are the stalls and other fittings. In the middle id' the choir is a fine altar-tomb, on which reposes the effigy of its founder, Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who died in the year 1370, together "with that of his second wife, Catherine, daughter of Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, lie is represented in full armour, hut his right hand is bare, and grasps that of his wife. Beneath the choir is a. spacious crypt, an interesting remnant of an earlier church, being of Norman architecture; in it for many years leading citizens of Warwick were interred. On the north side, beneath the chapels, is the mausoleum of the Greville line of the Earls of Warwick. The Beauchamp or Lad) - Chapel is, however, the chief ornament of St. Mary's Church. This is entered, not only by the main portal already men- tioned, but also by a small door in the south wall of the choir, leading into one of three curious chapels, which occupy the narrow space between the two buildings. To discuss the probable intention of these would exceed our present limits. They are connected by doorways ; from the eastern one, which has an r- m z < Warwick.] TEE BEAUCHAMP CHAPEL. 133 enriched stone roof, a dour on the north side leads to a very narrow and ruinous night of steps, at the top of which a grated opening looks into the choir, This is popularly termed the confessional, but it may be doubted whether that is a true explanation of its pui'posc. 'Three rusty helmets and a curious old chest preserved here are worth examination. We descend by a short, flight of steps into the Beauchamp Chapel, which was built for a tomb-house by Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick. Commenced in the twenty-first year of Henry VI., and completed in the third of Edward III. (144:)— 14(14), it is in style a Late Per- pendicular structure, reminding us somewhat, though on a small scale, of St. George's, Windsor, and the chapel of King's College, Cambridge. In the centre of the chapel, in front and to the west of the altar, so that he might hear well "the blessed mutter of the mass," is the founder's monument, a sculptured altar-tomb of Purbeck marble, richly adorned with figures of gilded brass. A slat) of the same metal covers the tomb, on which lies the effigy of the Earl, also of brass. He is in full armour, but his head is bare, and rests upon his helmet; his hands are raised in prayer, but are not joined. A griffin and a bear support his feet. The figure is encloGod by a hooped hearse of brass, which is said to have formerly supported a velvet pall. The monument, fortu- nately, is still in good preservation, and as a work of art, no less than as a relic of ancient days, it is worthy of the closest stud)'. The contract, with all the details of the expenditure for this memorial chapel, is still in existence. From it we learn that the cost of the Earl's effigy was £40, and of the whole building £2,481. But this tomb is not the only one of interest in the chapel. When mass had ceased to be said for the founder's soul, other folk came crowding in to share the grandeur of his tomb-house. Against the north wall is a sumptuous pile comme- morating Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, the noted favourite of Queen Elizabeth. The figures of the Earl and his second wife rest upon an altar-tomb, at the back of which rises an elaborately sculptured canopy. The monument is more indebted to the quality of the materials than to the grace of the design, and the reader must settle for himself whether the epitaph or history gives a truer picture of the Earl. On the floor of the chapel, near to the founder's monument, is another altar-tomb. This is to the memory of Leicester's brother, Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, commonly called, by contrast, the Good Earl. It supports an effigy, but has neither canopy nor hearse. Against the south wall, near the eastern end of the chapel, is the figure of a. child, clad in one of the long gowns which the pictures of Tudor days have made familiar to us, and of which we have in some sort a survival in the coats of the Christ's Hospital boys. This commemorates the "noble impe" Robert of Dudley, son of the former, nephew and heir of the latter, of the; two peers just mentioned, " a child of greate parentage but of farre 134 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Maiiy's greater hope and towardnes, taken from this transitory unto the cveriastinge life" in the year 1584. These are the principal monuments in this interesting and, in many respects, beautiful chapel. The seats are of old oak, well carved; the windows were once tilled with stained glass, but of this little remains except in the eastern one; the roof is stone, groined and ornamented with heraldic bosses; the floor is paved with slabs of black and white marble; the reredos is modem; a door on the left side of the altar leads into a chamber, once appropriated to the attendant priest, now used as a library. The chapel has, by rare good fortune, escaped with little harm from Puritan iconoclasts and Hanoverian vandals, and is hardly less interesting as a work of art than as a memorial of the Beauchamps and the Dudleys. With a brief glance at thehistory of the illustrious families whose representatives rest in St. Mary's Church, we must conclude our notice. Passing over the family of De Newburgh, to which the earldom Avas given by the Conqueror, and of which the name is not specially connected with the church, Ave come to the house of Beauchamp, barons of Elmley in Worcestershire. They received the title by marriage, on failure of direct heirs in the male line of the De New- burghs, after the death of the sixth earl. All were men of mark. Gruy, the second earl of this house, was the " black hound of Arden," whose fangs Piers Gaveston felt when he was brought as captive to Warwick Castle, and took his last look on earth from Blacklow Hill. His son, Thomas, fought manfully in the French wars l>v the side of the Black Prince, and died as Governor of Calais. His monument, as lias been said, stands in the middle of St. Mary's Choir, of which he was the builder. The Black Hound's grandson, another Thomas, also won distinction in France, but, notwithstanding all his services, in the evil days of Richard II. his head was in no small danger, and he was kept for some time a prisoner in the Tower. The accession of Bolinbroke, however, restored him to liberty and honour. At his charge the nave of the church was built, and on his death, in the year 1401, he was buried there. His monument was destroyed by the great tire, but the brass effigies of himself and his wife were saved, and are now fixed against th(. v wall of the south transept, near to the entrance to the Lady Chapel. Richard Beauchamp, his son, was even more distinguished than his illustrious progenitor. At the tournament or in war among the first, in private life irreproachable, the "father of courtesy," as lie was called by the emperor, he filled, among other responsible offices, those of guardian to the young Henry AT., and Regent of France. There, in the year 1439, he died, and his body was buried, as mentioned above, in the stately Lady Chapel, which was built as directed in his will. His son, Henry Beauchamp, bade fair to equal the fame of his father, and was high in favour with the young king, who created him Duke of Warwick, and even King of the Isle of Man; but at the early age of twenty-two he died, and with him ended the' house of Beauchamp. Warwick.] GREAT NAMES. 135 The estates passed to Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury, on whom the earldom of Warwick was conferred. This bearer of the title played a part in English history more famous, if less useful, than any of the Beauchamps, for lie was the great "king-maker," who at last fell on the field of Barnet. Ho, how- ever, does not rest within the walls of St. Mary's, hut was buried at Bisham Abbey, with others of his house. A curse now seemed to cling for a while to the title. It was next held by "Clarence, ill-fated Clarence," done to death in the Tower. His son and successor was, from his boyhood, kept as a prisoner in that fortress, and, when still young in years, was murdered under the forms of justice, losing his head on the scaffold in order that the crown might rest more securely on that of Henry Richmond. For nearly half a century the title was dormant. Then it was conferred on John Dudley, Lord High Admiral of England. He rose to the dignity of Duke of Northumberland, but at last his head fell upon the scaffold on Tower Hill, in requital for his efforts to exclude Queen Mary from the throne. His grave also is far away from Warwick, for he was buried in St. Peter's Chapel, within the fortress. His grandson, Am- brose, was the "Good Earl," who lies buried in the Beauchamp Chapel, and in whose person the title again became extinct. ft was now sepa- rated for a time from the estates, the one being conferred by James f. on Lord Rich, the other passing into the hands of the Grevilles, Earls Brooke, one of whom was the noted Lord Brooke, who was killed at the siege of Lichfield Cathedral. The title, after seven descents in the line of Rich, again became extinct, and was then conferred upon the Brookes, of whom the present owner is a descendant. We mainly dwell on the connection of the church with the history of our country, but we must not forget that it is no less closely associated with the plain burghers of Warwick town than with the lords of its castle. Its mayors, its aldermen, its more noted citizens and public benefactors, have their monuments in the church, their graves beneath its pavements, more especially in the crypt. Its churchyard also is fully tenanted by the memorials of the dead. That aspect id' its history has now become a thing of the past. This is in many respects wisely ordered, but in the time to come St. Mary's cannot he quite the same place to the citizens as when it was not only their place of worship in life, but their place of rest in death. T _ G _ Bonney. THE ToYVLU. CHRIS T C H U R C H A N I) R M SEY. HAMPSHIRE ABBEYS. rnilK county of Hampshire, peculiarly rich in antiquities of every kind, contains J- within its borders mam' valuable specimens of early churches. The Priory of Christchurch is so ancient that we have no authentic record of its establishment, though some authorities hold that it was founded in the reign of Edward the Confessor for a dean and twenty Austin canons. The town undoubtedly derived its name from this church. There is, however, a legend of monastic origin which suggests more specific derivation. The story runs that during the building of the church a massive oaken beam, when hoisted to its place, was found to be a foot too short; but when the workmen after an interval for rest and refresh- ment returned to their work, the timber had been lengthened to its proper proportions by miraculous intervention. < hi this account the church was dedi- cated to Christ. This, as the reader may perhaps have noticed at odd times, is a type of tradition that has been often met with before, being, in short, merely an old friend in a dressing adapted for local uses. Near Christchurch, and in the surrounding neighbourhood, Roman earthworks point to an occupation bv our original invaders. Connoisseurs in such matters have unhesitatingly pro- nounced certain remains to be a Roman camp and entrenchments, tumuli and barrows, the latter containing human bones. A Roman station here would Lie almost a matter of course. Tin.' Avon would make the position one of strategical importance, and the Romans were not far east of the spot when the}" sailed their galleys up Southampton Water and pitched at Clausentum. Tin.' first clear mention of Christchurch is in the Saxon chronicles id' about the year 900, and it arose from the fighting for the crown which was going on about that time between Edward the Elder and Ethelwald. In the Domesday survey it appears as a burgh and royal manor under the name of Thuinam. These scraps of ancient history, however, do not enlighten us respecting the prior} - with which Ave are immediately concerned ; but, striking a balance between this and that probability, we may reasonably assume that the great house for secular Augustinian canons was founded by Ethelstane. The church of modern times, picturesquely planted on the hanks of the Avon, and justly accounted a magnificent structure, was the collegiate church of the priory, of the establishment of which there arc no authentic records. Camden states that it was founded in remote English times on the rums of an ancient heathen temple. In the reign of Edward the Confessor there were known to lie a. prior and l'our-and-twenty canons of the Order of St. Augustine. The church and convent were given to Flambard, Bishop of Durham, by William Cheistciiuucii and Romsew] THE ATI HEY 137 llufus, and this prelate; rebuilt the church on a larger scale, ami dedicated it to Christ. The revenues of the establishment received substantial support from de Rcdvers, Karl of Devon, to whom the manor was granted, and who built the castle which commanded the passage of the Avon. Close to the church, as cmusTcmiitcii, filom the iuveti. we sec it in its restored condition, a wall covered witli long-established verdure and an old-world section of causeway mark the whereabouts and solidity of the priory. Portions of the castle keep, more than ten feet in thickness, are also well preserved. On the banks of the river a remarkably good specimen may be seen of the Norman house of the twelfth century, with loopholed walls, chimney- shaft, and windows, of a purity of style rarely to lie met with in this country. At the Dissolution the church was granted to the parish, the abbey lands, according to the custom of the high-handed monarch who carried out the work, being apportioned to private individuals. The last prior was one John Draper, suffragan Bishop of Naples, who was consoled for his deposition by a pension, and has been passed down to posterity as a very honest and comfortable person. In the south aisle the memory of this dignitary, who died in 1552, is perpetuated by a chantry and stone screen, erected by himself twenty-three years before his death; and his grave-slab forms part of the pavement. Vast sums of money s 138 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Chkisichuhoh have been expended on the restoration of this beautiful church, and the principal work was carried out under the superintendence of Mr. Ferrey, by whom a memorial window was placed in the south aisle in memory of his father, Benjamin Ferrer. The church is in the form of a cross, and, in .size and richness of ex- terior ami interior, is superior to some English cathedrals. Much of Flambard's original Xorman work has been preserved. The principal example is the nave, IIS feet by 58 feet, used at the present day as the parish church. The basis is of course Xorman, but the clerestory is Early English, and the high-pitched roof was ceiled in comparatively recent times by Grarbett. Prior Flambard, it nan - lie remembered, after his elevation to the rank of bishop, continued his architectural enterprises with great effect in Durham Cathedral. Admirably in harmony with the main structure is the Early English north porch, which is entered by a recessed gateway. 'The north aisle, also Early English, is a hundred years later than the southern aisle, where there is a Xorman arcade, with Early English windows. 'There are, moreover, the remains of a staircase which led to tin.' dormitory, the conventual buildings having joined the church on this side. The nave, with its double row of massively squared pillars, demi- columns, and semicircular arches springing between them from grouped pilasters, is considered to lie one of our best extant specimens of the Norman style. There are evidences of the same style, with Perpendicular insertions, in the north transept, which has undergone, however, more alteration than the nave; and there are two chantries projecting eastward, instead of aisles. Where the transept joins the north aisle a two-storeyed stone building, known as the governor's rooms, once stood, recalling the departed days when there was a Christchurch Castle, and an appointed governor. William Eyre was elected prior of Christchurch in 1502. The letters "W.E." in the Perpendicular arch of the south transept, which is Early English, are his initials, and they are also to he found in the choir. This is 70 feet by 21 feet, mainly of Perpendicular character, and retaining traces of tin 1 ancient colouring. The roof, of four bays, is much admired. Most curious are the stalls and seats of the choir. The stalls are thirty-six in number, ami are probably as old as the latter part id' the fifteenth century; the chancel and the whole of the eastern portion of the church being of more recent date than the transept ami nave. The carvings id 1 the stalls are quaint, even grotesque; and tin; fox, creese, and monkey chiselled in the oak are thought by some to be symbolical, if not satirical. The high altar hears an inscription to Baldwin de Redvers, who was lord of the Isle of Wight; he died in 1216, and the crypt beneath is reported to have been his place of burial. The old altar-piece is finely sculptured, and the rcredos is, like that of Winchester, in three storeys, the subject being the Jesse tree. and Eomsby.] SHELLEY'S MONUMENT. 139 Apart from its architectural beauties and handsome proportions, the church abounds in interesting memorial and other features. One of tlic most popular, perhaps, with modern visitors is the monument in the tower at the west end of the nave to the poet Shelley. It was sculj)tured by Wcekes, and erected by the poet's son, Sir Percy Shelley, in 1854. The subject, which cannot be said to be felicitously treated, is the recovery of the body by the sea-shore, and the inscription is from Adonais. The mortuary chantry on the north side of the altar was erected by the Countess of Salisbury, who was mother of Cardinal Pole, and who at the age of seventy was beheaded by Henry VIII. The chapel fabric is well preserved, though the finer surface ornamentation has been destroyed. According to one historian, the escutcheons on the ceiling were defaced by the direct order of bluff King Harry. On the south side of the altar there is a good piece of sculpture by Flaxman, and in the vicinity are two ancient tombs of former priors. Elsewhere is a Perpendicular chapel with memorial to John Cook; a smaller Decorated chapel with a monument by Chantrev ; and a chantry and stone screen to one Robert Harys, who died in 1525. The vestry was an ancient chapel in the Early English style. The Lady Chapel, of the Late Perpendicular period, is one of the most beautiful portions of the church, with its delicate screen, earefullv preserved altar, and ancient monuments. St. Michael's loft, over the Lady's Chapel, once the chapter-house of the priory, in modern times became a school-house, which was approached by a winding staircase outside the church. An altar-tomb in the north aisle has effigies of Sir John Chydioke and his wife. The knight was killed in the Wars of the Post's, and his helmet has been preserved. The defacement of the effigies is attributed to the vulgar superstition of a past generation, who believed that the scrapings of Chydioke's tomb would cure certain diseases. The Abbey Church of Romsey in South Hampshire has made the pretty municipal and market town on the river Test famous for mam' generations. Some antiquarians, indeed, used to maintain that it was the abbey that gave birth and growth to the town, but it is now more generally accepted, largely on the authority of Stukeley, who devoted much time and labour to the study, that we must go back farther if we would iix the origin of Romsey. The contention of Dr. Stukeley is that here stood the Roman city once named Arminis, but subsequently changed to Romana Insula. The river Test, and a tributary stream which joins the main river near Broadlands, virtually place Romsey and its venerable abbey upon an island, and in the opinion of some this natural conformation gaA r e to the place its earliest Saxon name of Rumes-ey, the broad island. Dr. Stukeley's views have been supported by Mr. Spence, a 140 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Ch MS tch V rch more recent writer, who points out that the situation of Romsey makes it nearly equidistant from Sorbiodunum, or ( >ld Sarum ; Brige, or Broughton; Venta Belgarum, or Winchester; and Clausen turn, near Southampton; and that as those were Roman stations of acknowledged importance, the Romans must have passed through Romsey on their marches from one camp to another. The discovery of a number of Roman coins at Abbotswood, near Etomsey, in 1845, was accepted as strong evidence in favour of Dr. Stukeley's contention. The Abbey Church of Romsey, like the Church of Christchurch, was thoroughly restored by Fcrrey in modern times, and it is valued by archseologists as presenting more fully than any building of equal size in England the out- line and general aspect of a Norman conventual church, and the manner in which architectural styles became merged Whatever changes may have been introduced, as in the nave, which is of a later period than the oldest portions of the structure, the dimensions and broad proportions of the original architects have been in the mam preserved. A perfect window- of the somewhat common arrangement of Norman clerestory windows observed at Waltham Abbey, Essex, and Christchurch, Oxford, is worthy of special studv, and there is a clearly denned apse, id' the kind which was characteristic of the Norman style. The lofty arched recesses, carried up over the actual arches and the triforium, though suggesting supplementary work over the original building, are nevertheless characteristic of the first design, of which they form a. part. Fortunately, the general character of the stately abbey, which lias always been architecturally famous, has not suffered in the careful restoration it lias undergone. In Romsey Abbey, the student of ecclesiastical architecture has a. most attractive course of investigation open to him from the Norman to the Pointed, and from the Early English to the Decorated, since definite examples of each are there. The Norman portion of the nave of the abbey, cruciform in design, was the work of Bishop Henry de Blois, and may be dated somewhere between 1129 and 1169, but the remainder is Early English. As the abbey was a minster church to an ancient nunnery, it lacks the great west doorway for which one naturally looks in a building of such important dimensions; and the north and south aisles were raised above the level of the nave, probably to afford accommodation for the stalls of the nuns. The choir is so short as to he peculiar, and the apsidal chapels attached to the east side of the transepts form a feature of the Norman work which should not lie overlooked. The three-light windows are Early Decorated additions, but in the north aisle are several windows of four lights, some Perpendicular, others earlier. A gracefully bold Early English arch spans the west front of the nave, and no purer examples could be desired than arc furnished by the Early English doors, chastened by slender shafts and foliated capitals. AND ROMSEY.] NORMAN REMAINS. Ill The Lady Chapel, in Early Decorated style, stood at the cast ended' the choir, but this lias lone.' disappeared, and the discovery of the foundation is due to the untiring zeal of the vicar, the Rev. E. L. Berthon. The chapel was probably built about 1305 .\.i>., hut the only remains are portions of the shafts and groinings of the old walls, and the two restored windows which had been inserted in Norman archways. The excavations which led to this discovery brought to light, within the foundations of the Lady Chapel, the foundations id' the smaller and rectangular original Norman chapel. The southern entrance to the abbey, which has been reopened in modern times, formed the old communication with the cloisters. The transepts, which arc distinctively Norman, are 121 feet long and <;U feet high. The total length of the abbey is 240J feet. The nave is 134 feet long, 72^ broad, and 80 feet high, and a general idea of the squat appearance of tin 1 heavy Norman tower may lie formed from the statement that it is only 92| feet high, and some 20 feet square. Reference has been already made to the nunnery associated with the abbey, and one of the most interesting of the abbey relics is a cope, afterwards converted into an altar-cloth, supposed to have been the handiwork of some of the Romsey sisterhood. The material is green brocaded velvet, spangled with golden stars and figured with lilies, finely worked into the fabric. This altar-cloth was apparently made about the year 1450, or perhaps a quarter of a century earlier. The nuns are closely associated with the earliest history of the abbey, which was founded in a small way by Edward the Elder about 910 A.r>. ; and it must have been very soon converted to the purposes of an insignificant nunnery. Idas at first was only poorly endowed, lint Edward's grandson, Edgar, able to turn his attention from the alarm's of war to the arts of peace, pushed its for- tunes, aided by Archbishop Dunstan of Canterbury, along with those of other churches throughout the recently distracted country. In Edgar's reign, Romsey Abbey was accordingly enlarged and rebuilt under Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester, and was opened by the king in presence of Ins nobility on Christmas Day in the year 974. High patronage without stint fell to the share of (lie abbesses of Romsey ciiKisTcnuiicn : the vu\GiNO-r.ooM 142 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [ClIHISTClIURCH some of whom were themselves of the lineage of Saxon kings. Marivanna, a lady of noble blood and exemplary piety, was the first abbess, and her days were those of peace. Stormy times disturbed the reign of her successor Elwina, for the troublesome Dane and his warlike marauders pushed up the Test as far as Romsey, and pillaged the abbey. The abbess and her nuns, having received, as the legend goes, supernatural forewarning of the attack, Hod in the nick of time across country to Winchester, taking with them such holy relics as were portable. Matilda, queen of Henry 1., was educated at Romsey Abbey under the charge of her aunt, the abbess Christina. Later, a daughter of King Stephen was head of the nunnery. This abbess was Countess of Boulogne, and it may not have been forgotten that she was the occasion of a great mediseval scandal by defying the Pope and marrying a son of the Count of Flanders, in defiance of monastic vows, and without troubling his Holiness the Pope for a dispensation. The high-handed proceeding was doubtless instigated and helped on to its denoue- ment by Henry II., as a, telling point in his course of opposition to the trouble- some Thomas a Becket. For ten years the count, and his abbess wile survived excommunication and the bitter denunciation of the Church, but tin- Church was and Romsey.] A MEDIJEVAL SCANDAL. 143 iu the end too strong for them, and they separated. An abbess, in the reign of Henry 111., petitioned and actually obtained royal letters patent for the resti- tution of the privilege of condemning and hanging, that function of the abbesses of Romsey having then become obsolete. On the whole the abbey of Romsey was strictly, virtuously, and liberally managed, and enjoyed high repute for sanctity and learning-. Towards the close of the period to which the Dissolution put a sudden stop, tin' vices which had eaten into the ecclesiastical establishments of the kingdom bad, however, tainted even saintly Romsey. The abbey church shows boldly above the charming valley in which it is built, and the view from the square flat tower is typical of the richest English pastoral scenery. Within easy walking distance of the town is Broadlands, the seat of Lord Mount-Temple; and Westmacott's monument in the abbey to the memory of Frances, Viscountess Palmerston, reminds us that this was the ancestral home of one of the most popular of English Prime Ministers. The epitaph was written by Lord Palmerston's father. Amongst other tombs in the church should bo mentioned the canopied monument and effigy ascribed to the abbess-countess who married the Count of Flanders ; and a lettered stone to the memory of Sir William Petty, who, the son of a Romsey clothier, became physician-in-chief to the army of Ireland, and died in 1687, the founder of the Lansdowne family. W Senior. THE CHURCHES OF LEICESTER, THE LAST HOURS OF WOLSEY. IEICESTER, once a city and the home of a mitred abbey, and now a busy, -^ thriving manufacturing town, is a very quaint mixture of the old and the new. It possesses in plenty the traditions of antiquity, and some of its streets — such as KUIXS OP LEICESTER AIU'.KY. Gallowtreegate and Belgravegate — bear names which sufficiently indicate their olden origin ; but, with the exception of its churches and the exceedingly scanty ruins of its abbey, few outward and visible signs of that antiquity remain. To the archasologist and the student of town-lore, the narrow, tortuous streets speak plainly enough of their history ; but it is to be feared that the ordinary casual visitor regards Leicester merely as a busy, inelegant town. As a matter of fact, few Midland towns have a longer or more interesting history; and, at all events from an architectural point of view, several of its churches are very curious and attractive. Leicester, moreover, was the scene of the death of Cardinal Wolsey under circumstances so dramatic, not to say tragic, that it was Inevitable they should take a strong hold upon the imagination. It was in a chamber of the abbey of St. Mary de Pratis that the Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, Leicester Churches.] THE ABBEY 145 Legate a latere and Archbishop of York, expired, upon a dreary November day in 1530; and long before dawn on the following morning the disgraced prelate was buried by torchlight in the abbey church. That church has long since entirely disappeared; and the day came when even the dust of the proud Chancellor was scattered to the winds. The Abbey of Leicester was founded in 1143 by Robert, second Karl of Leicester of the de Bellomont creation for Augustinian Canons Regular. In expiation of his rebellion against the sovereign, and of the harm he ST. MARGAUET S : THE TOUCH. ST. NICHOLAS. had done to the town of Leicester, the earl entered the monastery of his own foundation, and died there. Leices- ter Abbey was wealthy from the first. It counted thirty-six manors in Leicestershire alone among its en- dowments, and was aide to maintain the whole of the poor in its neighbourhood. A few crumbling walls are all that now remains of Karl Robert's rich foundation. These ruins are romantically situated in the centre of the Abbey Park, which is a tastefully laid out and well-kept pleasaunce belonging to the town. The little river Soar flows sluggishly near the scanty vestiges of the building in which was ended one of the most remarkable careers in history- Few men whose names have resounded through the world have left so few visible personal traces as Thomas T 146 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Lhcestee Wolsey; for lie has neither tomb nor monument, and oven the stone coffin which contained his body is traditionally said to have been used as a horse-trough after his disinterment. As was the ease with most monastic foundations of any importance, many odd legends were current regarding Leicester Abbey. The buildings were en- larged by Petronilla, daughter-in-law of the founder; and it is said that after her death a plait of her hair was used to suspend the ever-burning lamp of the sanctuary. Another anecdote has a more genuinely monkish flavour about it. Gilbert Foliot, the first abbot, who was afterwards successively Bishop of Hereford and of London, one night left the presence of King Henry II., with whom lie had been conferring relative to the monarch's differences with Thomas a Becket. As he went along he heard a voice, which he took to lie that of the devil, reproaching him: "0 Gilbert Foliot, dum revolvis tot et tot, Deus tuus est Astaroth." But the holy man was not to lie daunted, even bv the devil in person; and he answered proudly and severely : " Mentiris Daemon ! Deus meus est Lens Sabaoth." Of the five churches of Leicester which possess any historic interest, St. Nicholas's is at once the oldest and the quaintest. It is small and low, With a, tine square arcaded tower, containing herring-bone work, between tin; nave and the chancel ; and is constructed of granite, sandstone, and Roman tile. Some of these materials, it is conjectured, were taken from the old dowry Wall (dose by. The style is mixed, for we fmd Saxon, Norman, and Early English. The south porch is an interesting piece of ancient brick and timber work, and the doorway to which it gives access has a Norman arch in good preservation, with dog- tooth mouldings. The Saxon church was a plain, rough, barn-like building, with narrow lights, two of which are still to be seen in the nave. The Norman building was cruciform. Tin.' church now consists of nave, Early English chancel and south aisle, Norman tower and nave, and a modern north aisle. The roughness of the interior masonry gives the building a curiously hare ami unfinished appearance, which is but little relieved in other way's. The pulpit is a semi- circular stone gallery running partly round one of tin; massive supports of the tower. The Norman arches are semicircular, and have a very quaint appearance. The church contains two or three good windows of modern stained glass, the best of which is the richly coloured one representing Christ raising Jairus' Daughter. There are a. few fiat tombs, consisting mainly of slabs of slate. In the churchyard are two mutilated pillars of red sandstone, which are conjectured to have formed part of tie.' Roman forum. They were dug out of the street close by. The church, with its low roof and tine tower, makes a striking appearance as seen from the ugly, unkempt street which commands it. CiiunciiEs.] ST. MARY'S. 147 If St, Nicholas be the most curious, the formerly collegiate St. Mary do Castro is assuredly the most generally interesting us well as one of the most architecturally handsome, of the Leicester churches. As its name indicates, it is close to the castle; and is a fine largo church, of groat length and of very varied architecture. The ancient square pinnacled tower, from which rises a tall and slender Decorated spire (rebuilt in 1783), imparts a noble, and elegant appearance to the exterior. There is evidence that a church existed upon tins site in Saxon times. A portion of St. Mary's was built by Robert de Bellomont, first Norman Earl of Leicester, father of the founder of Leicester Abbey. lie founded in it a college of twelve canons, to which he granted ample endow- ments and privileges, among them being the patronage of all the other churches in Leicester, with the exception of St. Margaret's. The church consists now of two naves of equal length, and a narrow north aisle, said to have been built by John of Gaunt. The tower and spire, which rest upon arches, stand independently of the vails of the church. The in- terior is exceedingly handsome; and although the building contains examples of so many different styles, the work harmonises excellently, and all the details are fine in themselves as well as exceedingly interesting to the archi- tectural antiquary. The Norman work presents some unusual features. The buttresses of the chancel walls are characteristic of the early forms of that style; they are "of the same breadth and thickness from the ground to the top, and die into the wall with a slope immediately below the parapet," and are ornamented with dog-tooth and billeted mouldings. The sedilia are like- wise Norman, but of somewhat later date, which has been conjectured as about 11-30. They have double rows of pilasters, and are adorned with lavish chevron-work. At the east end of the aisle is the chapel, or choir, as it has sometimes been called, of the Trinity Guild, founded in the time of Henry VII. by Sir Richard Sacheverel, Knight, and the "good" Lady Hungerford. On the south side of the chancel the stout Norman walls still remain. The chief beauty of the chancel is in the very fine Perpendicular screen, which dates from about 14-">0. This is a very elaborate piece of work, richly bossed, panelled, and foliated. It contains an abundance of the characteristic Perpendicular quatrefoil work, deftly varied and harmonious. This handsome screen is happily still in very good condition. In the chancel is a monument, conceived in by no means the best taste, to the Rev. Thomas Robinson, the author of "Scripture Characters" — a book which once enjoyed a. popularity as great as it now seems amazing. The character of the monument may be gathered from its date — 1813. The rich clerestory dates from the thirteenth century; and the font is of about the same period. The handsome and richly carved roof of the chancel is a tine example of 143 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Leicester Norman work ; and many of the windows, particularly the two east windows, contain good modern stained glass. St. Mary's forms a richer and more harmonious whole than any other church in Leicester. KT. UA11T s: THE TOWEH. St. Margaret's is a fine church of somewhat later date than those we have been considering, and occupies the site of the Cathedral of the Saxon Bishopric of Leicester — a see which endured only from A.D. 680 to 870. Its most striking external feature is its embattled Perpen- dicular tower, more than one hundred feet high. The building is, indeed, mainly Perpendicular, and contains some ad- mirable work of that period. When tlie pious Robert de Bellomont endowed the collegiate church of St. Mary de Castro, we have seen that he granted to it the patronage of all the other churches in the town with the excep- tion of this, which was almost simul- taneously erected into a prebend to Lincoln Cathedral by the bishop of the diocese. St. Margaret's consists of nave and side aisles, with an unusually large chancel, and is a church of line and ample proportions ; but the white- ness of the internal stone-work gives the building a. somewhat cold appear- ance. The church is in exceedingly good condition, and is very well kept, which is unfortunately more than can be said for one or two of the other ancient fanes of Leicester. I have said that the chancel is of considerable size; and it is almost as interesting as that of St, Mary's. It contains the very finest ancient tomb existing in the town, which is, oddly enough, singularly desti- tute of interesting sepulchral memorials. ClIUKCHKS.] ALL SAINTS'. 149 This is the tomb of John Penny, for many years abbot of the monastery of St. Mary de Pratis, and afterwards Bishop of Bangor and of Carlisle, who died in 1520. It is a chaste and beautiful monument of alabaster, with a recumbent figure of the bishop in episcopal vestments, executed with all the taste and more than the sim- plicity of the time. It is happily still quite perfect. The chancel is entirely Per- pendicular, and is closed by a handsome modern Perpendicular screen, noticeably excellent in itself, but naturally neither so rich nor so elegant as that of St. Mary's. The chancel windows, which are likewise Perpendicular, have some modern stained glass. Some well-carved poppy-head stalls and two or three misereres, which have been figured in more than one book upon ecclesiastical architecture, were removed early in the century ; and some of them now en- rich the church of Aston, Birmingham. In the side aisles arc several slabs to the memory of members of the Burnaby family, an old Leicestershire house which has achieved con- spicuous distinction in very recent times. The churchyard contains the very plain tomb of Andrew, fifth Baron Rollo, who died at Leicester in 1765. Lord Rollo was one of the must distinguished members of a military and Jacobite family, which seemed at one? time to have an insatiable taste for fighting. He obtained well-deserved laurels for his share in the reduction of Canada, and in the capture of Martinique in 1762. Robert Grossetete, who, after St. Hugh of Avalon was the most famous of Lincoln's bishops, once held this benefice. Notwithstanding that the church of All Saints dates from the fourteenth century, and was no doubt once interesting and sightly, it is now in many respects a "fearful example." Bare, barnlike, and whitewashed, it presumably bears a close resemblance to the typical English church of a century ago, when architectural taste was undergoing a long eclipse. Even the roof of the chancel is whitewashed; while every detail of the sanc- tuary is mean and unfit. The chancel, which was rebuilt in the worst days of ecclesiastical architecture, is an eyesore; but steps are being taken to improve its appearance. The side aisles are match-boarded, which necessarily produces a cheap, commonplace, not to say barrack-like effect that is sadly out of keeping in a church. The benches, too, are painted and grained; and there is riot a single pane of coloured j^iass in the building. Still the church, which was founded in 1199, is not absolutely destitute of interesting features. The lower section of the tower and the west doorway are Norman. There is a fine and well-carved 150 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Leicester. hexagonal oak pulpit, of Perpendicular work, very much smaller, of course, than most modern pulpits. The windows are of that Decorated curvilinear fashion which is so often found in Leicestershire churches. The roofs of the side aisles are handsome pieces of Perpendicular woodwork. The font, too, is a beautiful example of Early English carving. There is still preserved in the church part of a curious old clock, having a painted representation of Time and two human figures, or " Quarter Jacks," which formerly, when the clock was over the west door, outside the church, struck the quarters with hammers. The only noticeable tomb the church seems to have contained in recent times was that of William Noricc, whose claims to remembrance were, that he was twice Mayor of Leicester, was thrice married, was ninety-seven years of age when he died in 1615, and that, according to his epitaph, his " — grave from all the rest is knownc By finding out the greatest stone." This tomb has disappeared. Close to the west door is a holy-water stoup, with two iron links for tin; chained bowl still remaining. In the south aisle two piscinas and a bracket-pedestal for a statue indicate that then' were formerly side altars. Near the font are some ancient tiles and the remains of the old screen, unhappily covered with paint. The church was restored in 1877, when the beautiful Early English arch between the north aisle and the tower was opened. St. Martin's (or St. Cross, as it has sometimes been called) is the largest- church in Leicester, and has been the most intimately connected with the history of the town. It is a cruciform church, of great width, having three aisles, two on the south and one on the north ; and it has a tine central tower supported upon arches, and an elegant spire put up in 1867 from the designs of Mr. R. Brandon. The body of the church is Early English, but the existing windows were inserted in the Decorated period. The chancel was rebuilt about the beginning of the sixteenth century. In the great south aisle, which is almost as wide as the nave, the archdeacon holds his court. This aisle contains two chapels or oratories — the chapel of Our Lady at the east end, and that of St. George at the west end ; but neither of them is now used. The altars of these chapels, together with the high-altar, were destroyed at the Reforma- tion. These oratories wen.' the chapels of the two powerful guilds that were long attached to the church: the Guilds of St. George and Corpus Christi. The confraternity of St. George possessed many peculiar privileges; and the "Ride of St. George," which it annually performed, was a gorgeous pageant. There was formerly in the church an effigy of a horse decked in the brave* trappings that were used on the yearly festival day of the confraternity; but at the Chtochm.] ST. MARTIN'S. 151 Reformation it went flic way of tlie three altars, and is recorded to have been sold for a shilling. The Guild of Corpus Christi was the more ancient of the two, and was invested with an odd mixture of civil and religious jurisdiction. There were two joint masters of the confraternity who were empowered, in asso- ciation with the mayor, to impose fines upon members of the corporation who misbehaved themselves. The roofs and woodwork of St. Martin's are very fine; and the church happily still retains its Norman piscina. There is also a creditable "Ascension" by Vanni, formerly used as an altar-piece, which was presented by Sir William Skeffington, Bart. Here is the unpretending tomb, bearing- the date of 1710, of Abigail Swift, mother of the Dean of St. Patrick's. Of the several tombs of members of the Heyrick family, none is of especial interest. The church has unfortunately now finally lost the ancient font which was re- moved during the Usurpation. It was sold in 1651 to one George Smith for seven shillings, and a new one erected near to the reading-desk, as was common in Puritanical times. But nine months after the Restoration a parish meeting was held, at which it was "agreed that the font of stone formerly belonging to the church shall be set up in the ancient place, and that the other now standing near the desk be taken down;" and a little more than a, year later the font was repurchased from George Smith's widow for the same price that had been given for it eleven years previously. St. Martin's suffered much during the civil wars. A Parliamentarian garrison, that was driven out of Newark, took refuge in it, and converted it into a barrack. The church was stormed, and man)' of the soldiers were killed within its walls, while others were cut down in the market-place near by. In 1729 a violent and unseemly dispute broke out between the Rev. Mr. Carte, the Vicar of St. Martin's, and Mr. Jackson, a Confrater, who afterwards became Master of the Wigston Hospital. Mr. Jackson disbelieved, or affected to disbelieve, the doctrine of the Trinity; and on several occasions when the Vicar in his Sunday morning sermon hail upheld that doctrine, scandalous scenes were caused by Mr. Jackson going into the pulpit in the evening and denying the Vicar's teaching. Upon one occasion the churchwardens commanded him in the middle of his sermon to leave the pulpit; and at another time he was stopped on the steps of the pulpit by the sexton. A judicial decision was at length obtained to the effect that the Confrater's action was illegal. The tendency of time is always to raise the level of the streets in an old town; and at Leicester several of the more ancient churches are considerably below the street-line, and are entered by a descent of two or three steps. J. Pknderel-Brodhuest. ST. MARTIN'S, CANTERBURY; ST. MICHAEL'S, VERULAM ; ST. MARY-IN-CASTRO, DOVER, MEMORIES OF BRITISH C II U R C II E S . npHERE is no church in England more venerable than that which looks clown J- from the last undulation of the chalk clowns over the valley of the Stour, and the city of Canterbury. For nearly thirteen centuries it has borne the name of St. Martin of Tours; for the same period, practically without a break, has Christ been worshipped on this spot — nay, we might almost say, within these walls. Externally, there is little to attract notice, though the view from its churchyard is of exceptional interest. It is a simply-built structure of moderate size, with a low, almost stumpy, tower. But closer investigation proves that if it has little architectural beauty it is full of historic interest, A glance at the rude masonry of its walls shows Roman tiles abundant among the miscellaneous materials of which it is composed. Here and there may he seen plain and heavy semicircular arches similarly constructed. Among the changes of later date, it is easy to distinguish the shell of a very ancient building, which, if it do not reach hack to Roman times, is, at any rate, largely constructed from the ruins of Roman buildings. This is the history of St. Martin's. Ethelbert, the Pagan King of Kent, towards the end id' the sixth century married Bertha, a Christian, daughter of King Charibert, of Paris. Ethelbert, though he did not adopt (he creed of his wife, assigned to her and her chaplain a ruined Christian church outside Canterbury, where his palace also was a relic of the Roman occupation of Britain. Thus, on the site of St. Martin's Church, " prayer was wont to he made" at the time when Augustine landed ;it Ebbe's Fleet; and here, not long after his arrival at Canterbury, he worshipped with the queen. In due course the king was baptised — as some have asserted, at St. Martin's. This, then, may he regarded as in a certain sense the very seed-plot of the Anglican Church, and still more as a visible link between that and the yet earlier British Church, for, as we are told by Bede, the building given to Bertha had been a- church prior to the invasion of the English. Does any part id' this structure remain? Can we touch the walls which have witnessed the prayers of Bertha and Augustine ? It is not easy to answer the ques- tion. Certainly a great part of the church is of later date. There is work of the fourteenth century in the tower, and in the windows id' the nave, with some which is yet more modern. The chancel is of the thirteenth century, and something is left older than this, but later than the Norman Conquest. Nevertheless, in the rude masonry with Roman tiles, and the simple openings — doors, or windows of St Martin's.] ROMAN REMAINS. 153 some kind — now mostly blocked up, there is evidence that parts of the building are anterior to the last-named period. Still, it must be admitted that though Roman materials enter abund- antly into the masonry, this, as a rule, appears to be of later date than the age of Ethelbert. Here and there, however, a little ma}' be seen with the characteristic Roman "salmon- coloured" mortar, which appears to be still in situ, and also seme pieces of pavement, seemingly of Roman date, which entitle us to chum for the present fabric of .St. Martin's a material connection with that in which Roman Christians worshipped and Bertha listened to the voice of Augustine. There are many details of the church, as will be inferred from the above remarks, of the highest interest, such as a curious opening in the west Avail, and another in that on the south side of the chancel, monumental brasses, and the like, two of which, at least, demand a brief notice. One is the font. It is evidently of great antiquity, formed of more than one piece of stone, approximately cylindrical in shape, the ornamentation consisting of three tiers, with rim and u 154 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [The frauds. base (modern). TliG two lower tiers arc- occupied by two zones of km it work or scroll work, the third by a row of intersecting semicircular arches; on the rim, again, is scroll work. Tradition points to it as the font in which Ethelborfc was baptised. Not only is the locality of the king's baptism uncertain, but also no part of the ornamentation of this font can be assigned to so early a date as the end of the sixth century; indeed, the interlacing arches would suggest rather the twelfth. So that the only way out of the difficulty would be to suppose, as some have done, that the ornamentation is more recent than the font itself. A\' r e can hardly say that this is impossible, hut on (lie whole it seems more probable that the font is of later date than the days of Augustine. Again, an old stone coffin under a. semicircular arch in the north wall of the chancel is designated as the tomb of Bertha. But here, too, apart from architectural difficulties, we are confronted with the fact that she was not buried at St. Martin's, but nearer the ruined chapel of St. Pancras, on the lower ground just outside the city walls. Church and churchyard alike are carefully tended. The latter was chosen by Dean Alford for his resting-place. The view from it is a. grand one. Below the slope, beyond the spot where Bertha and Augustine were buried, are the remnants of the noble abbey which the latter founded, and wliich bore his name. Beyond this rises the stately mass of the noble cathedral, which, taking the place of the humbler structure founded by Augustine, also stands on the site of a building of Roman age, and is now the visible centre of the Anglican branch of the Catholic Church, the middle link in a chain of Christian congregations which girdles the earth. On the top df the chalk chit's at Dover, within the walls of its famous castle, we find another connection with the Roman occupation, and possibly with the British churches. There stands a rugged octagonal structure, with massive walls built of tufa and other stone, bonded with Roman tiles, the lower and greater part of which is indubitably a work of that people, though the upper storey was evidently added about the fourteenth century. This is supposed to have been a landmark or lighthouse. A few feet distant to the east is a church, obviously of great antiquity. It is cruciform in plan, with a low central tower, broken on one side. The walls are constructed of rough masonry of stone, and flint, and brick. The quoins are partly stone, partly Roman tiles. Many of the openings are round-headed, the jambs being like the quoins, the arches mostly turned with tiles. Within, and beneath the tower, similar round-headed arches open into the transepts, but those east and west are insertions of later date. The west front has two round-headed arches in the gable, a single similar opening in the Avail below, and beneath that a very plain door of like form. Both these are supposed by the late Sir G. G. Scott, by whom the- church was carefully St. Michael's.] TZIIULAM. 15 restored, to have boon once connected with the " Pharos." The age of the church is loss certain than that of the tower. Tradition asserts that it was built ny King Lucius ; but this is of no value. Some have ascribed it to Eadbald, son of Ethelbert, and thus us dating from about the year G40. Sir O. CI. Scott, however, regards it as move modern, though he considers it to be one of the three oldest churches in England, Worth and Brixworth being the others. Tims it is long ante- rior to the Norman Conquest. It undoubtedly con- tains materials derived from a Roman building, and there is, of course, a possibility that some fragments of this age nun' be incorporated into its walls. The various later alterations call for no special mention, and the few monuments which now remain have only a local interest ; but plain and almost humble as is its architecture, we cannot gaze unmoved on this venerable relic, which, after years of disgraceful neg- lect, has been rescued from ruin, and bids fair to remain for centuries to come a memorial of the older period of our national history. THE PIIAU03. St. Michael's Church at St. Albans, though no part of it may be actually Roman masonry, brings us into close contact with the wort of that nation and with the first days of British Christianity. As we stand on the bridge over the river Yer, which parts the English from the Roman town, we are surrounded by memorials of Cull nineteen centuries of our history. Towards the east our eyes rest on a grassy strath, by the side of a little river fringed with lines of luxuriant trees, and bordered by gardens which extend to the brink of the stream down the slope of the northern plateau. On this cluster the houses of St. Albans, overtopped or masked by tall trees; those almost conceal the tower of the stately abbey, raised by the first Norman abbot, J'aul of Caen, on tiie site of the religious house founded by the English king, Offa, in memory of the British martyr. The town creeps down not unpicturescruely to the bridge, a substitute for the old ford, and from this it again straggles a little way up the gentle slope on the south side of the valley, towards a small old church. On this slope, above and below the bridge, where now, except in our immediate neighbourhood, are grassy fields and hedgerows, or shadowy groups of trees, once stood the Roman Verulam, which itself, in the opinion of some antiquaries, replaced the stronghold of Cassivelaunus, chief of the Cash, stormed and captured by the legions of Julius Cresar. St. Michael's Church, and the little suburb around it, with a fragment of wall and some grassy mounds, are the 156 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Miohahl'i solo memorials of tho Roman city, whoso inhabitants were gradually drawn away to gather round the gates of the abbey which "had risen on the spot where a Roman soldier had paid with his life for becoming a convert to the faith of the despised Galilean. The church of St. Michael stands not lav from the middle of the southern s~ — — r -"^f^ji fflgj'Sj '"'■',;.•" • ::;'!] „\ ' iRJpflSf'ii .: : ST. MAllY-IX-fANTKO. wall of the Roman Verulam, probably at no great distance from the site of the gateway. Though no part of it may he of Roman masonry, yet it is traditionally said to occupy the place of a, temple. At any rate, Roman substructures are so common all round as to make it often difficult to dig a grave in the rather ample churchyard, the wall of which, considerably higher than the road, is said to rest on a foundation of Roman work. Parts of the church presently to lie described are undoubtedly very ancient. Matthew Paris states that Ulsinus, second abbot of St. Albans, built, about the year 950, three churches, of which this, dedicated to St. Michael, was one. It is, therefore, probable that the earliest work now visible dates from the middle of the tenth century, while the materials of which it was constructed are from the Roman town. There is some difference of opinion as to the relative ages of the older St. Michael's.] FRANGTS BACON. 157 part of the church, one authority stating thai the nave was built about the year 1086, while another holds that the nave belongs to the earlier date, and that its walls wen* pierced and aisles added at the later. This appears the more probable, The extremely rude pier arches certainly seem not later than the eleventh century, and yet they are evi- dently newer than some small plain round- headed arches, constructed of Roman brick, which are visible in the clerestory wall, for these bear no relation in position to the pier arches, and in one case one of the latter actually cuts off the lover part of the former. The aisles have been, however, rebuilt and altered. The pier arches are unequal in number, three on the north, four on the south; of the latter, two open into a chapel, one is partially built up and communicates with a porch, and the westernmost is closed. The original clerestory windows were built up, and others of late type inserted during one of the many alterations, though prior to the construc- tion of the above-mentioned chapel, which has two lancet windows at its eastern end. The tower is Perpendicular, but the great blocks of Hertfordshire pudding-stone on which its masonry rests nun' belong to an older building. There are several interesting details in the church, such as a "squint," remains of a rood-loft, brasses, and a Jacobean pulpit, with an iron bracket for an hour-glass; but over these we must not linger. There is, however, a monument to be noticed, which brings, perhaps, more visitors to St. Michael's than its ancient arches and walls. This is the grave of Bacon, the profound philosopher, once — unfortunately for his repute — keeper of the Great Seal of England. Gorhambury, his home, is a short distance from Verulam, from which he took one of his titles, and the picturesque ruins of the Elizabethan house which he inhabited may be still seen in the park. A chill, caught while experimenting on the effect of snow as an antiseptic, by the roadside of Highgate, proved fatal to his already enfeebled constitution, and he died at that place, whence he was brought to this church for burial, in accordance with his own desire, it being the resting-place of his mother. His monument is placed in a recess in the north wall of the chancel, and is no doubt an excellent likeness. q\ (j_ Bonney. 6T. MICHAEL 9, ST. ALBANS. GRASMERE AND CROSTHWAITE. THE LAKE POETS. "TT was sunset when we approached Grasmere. The solemn heights towards -*- the setting sun showed their dark sides reflected in the water with wonder- ful distinctness. The effect of this lake upon the spirit was immediate, awaken- ing a feeling of something profound in one's nature. Windermere was tranquil, but it was a cheerful tranquillity; its genius was peace, but peace with a smiling aspect. Grasmere seemed to be formed amidst the mountain recesses expressly as an abode for lonely, silent, pensive meditation." Since these words were written, by a visitor from the great American continent, Gras- mere — the village, at least, and in sumo respects the lake and vale — may be said to have suffered loss of the loneliness, silence, and reflective solitude so eloquently claimed on behalf of the beautiful spot. At Town End stands the Lake Hotel. There are also the Prince of Wales's, and many lodging-houses, villas, and mansions, denoting a place with a "season," and with no lack of tourist visitors at all holiday times of the year. Grasmere, in truth, is a place of much resort, and can no longer be spoken of as by the poet Gray, when its repose and "happy poverty" were unspoilt-, or even as, at a much later time, by Channing, when all its impressions were still those of pensive loneliness. With Grasmere is inseparably linked the fame of William Wordsworth. Here he lived, from 1799 to 1808, when he first settled in the neighbourhood, occupying a house which he celebrates in his poem of " The Waggoner" as having once borne the sign of the Dove and Olive-bough. Here, too, in the shade of yew-trees which he is said to have planted with his own hands, he lies buried. The grave is covered with a plain slab of blue slate, bearing the names — sharply cut, as if the work of the chisel had been done yesterday — of the poet and his wife Mary, who survived him. Other graves of his household are here, having, indeed, been tenanted before his own. His sister, Dorothy Wordsworth, lies near; nearer still rests Dora Quillinan, the married daughter whose death shook him so severely that it may he said to have hastened his own. This highly gifted lady, beloved by all who knew her, was the wife of Mr. Edward Quillinan, a. native of Oporto, and a man of rare literary attainments, who first married a daughter of Sir Egerton Brydges, and lost her by a lamentable accident. A little behind the graves of the Wordsworth family is the mound, denoted by a cruciform tombstone, which covers Hartley Coleridge, eldest son of S. T. Coleridge, another of the Lake brotherhood. Within the heavy, square- built church, ancient hut unattractive, is the medallion profile of Wordsworth, accompanied by Kcble's epitaph. The church itself has been uncompromisingly GUABMERE AND CliOSTIIWAITE.] WORDSWORTH. 159 described as "hideous," which is a hard word for any building with so old and so hallowed a history. It has a massive tower ; and massiveness, or, it might bo said, bulkiness, is the general characteristic of the entire building, which is one of great antiquity. The Rothay glides gently by the resting-place of Words- worth, on which the heights of Fairfield, Silver How, and Helm Crag look lovingly down; and, with the winding stream as a foreground, the church falls well enough into its place in the picture. Never doubting his claim to poetic immortality, but always regarding the future as for him an assured growth of fame, Wordsworth was spared the pain- ful effects of that misgiving which has beset many other poets, and has at times deprived them of the light in which, grave or gay, all poetry should live and move and have its being. Whatever tone of sadness, of melancholy, may haunt the poet's song, no dark, doubtful note must jar with his true inspiration. Wordsworth knew himself to be, in his own words, "a man endowed with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among man- kind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him; delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in the goings-on of the Universe, and habitually impelled to create them where he does not find them." William Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth, a small town of Cumber- land, on the high road from Keswick to Whitehaven. His father was a solicitor and law-agent to the Earl of Lonsdale, a capricious, eccentric, and oppressive nobleman, who, in his official station of Lord Lieutenant over two counties, is said to have behaved at times with the arbitrary and disdainful haughtiness of a feudal chieftain. The estate for which Wordsworth's father was agent was very large, and, at that time, savagely grand and primaeval. There were oaks that might have built a, navy; yews that had possibly furnished bows for the soldiers of Cceur de Lion; forestal glades and sweeping lawns wliich for centuries had been unapproached by the hand of art ; and, instead of timid fallow deer, such as arc seen in other parks of the aristocracy, thundering droves of wild horses, that made the solid earth tremble beneath their fast-galloping feet. The children of the Cumberland lawyer received all the advantages of a complete education. Of the four sons, Richard, the eldest, followed in the foot- steps of his father, and was trained to the law. William, the second, and Christopher, the third son, after being some years at Hawkshead School, in Lancashire, proceeded to Cambridge University, where, as is well known, the younger man rose to the dignified station of Master of Trinity College. The fourth and youngest son, John, entered the East India Company's service, and, having risen honourably to the rank of captain, perished at the very outset of ]G0 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Grasmeue and the voyage which was meant to be his List, and which would, if successful, have raised the sum of his fortunes to £20,000. While the outward-bound ship, Abergavenny, was still in charge of the pilot off the Dorsetshire coast, she went ashore and became a total wreck. ''() pilot, you have ruined me," were nearly the last words that the unfortunate officer was heard to speak. Of the one sister, it is but necessary to say here that her name, Dorothy, id est, Theodora, aptly prefigured her place in the poet's household, where, indeed, she seemed to be " the gift of God." She was the most natural, impulsive, 4P sympathetic, helpful, compa- nionable, tender, and real of human beings. Who can say how much we, who have found joy, strength, and encourage- ment in Wordsworth's poetry, owe to that loved sister? Her musical soul joined his in many and many a ramble; for she was ever ready to walk out with him ; and that poem, "To my Sister,' 1 beginning, " It is the first mild day id' March," was but the frequent and or- dinary expression of a desire to roam forth with her in her woodland dress and "feel the sun." His own acknowledg- ment of obligation to her influence should, in fact, be ours. Happy, also, in his choice of Mary Hutchinson, Ins meek, cheerful, intelligent cousin, lor a wife, Wordsworth had all that could foster that peculiarly tranquil and reflective faculty of imagination which made his poetry what it was and is for the English-speaking race. Retirement and rustic ease, freedom from petty troubles, the constant congenial promptings of that natural beauty which he was so keenly competent to perceive and admire, all helped to feed his divinely-given genius. He had little reason, with his simple and austere tastes, to fear poverty; that is, so soon as he was in possession of any moderate means; and though, about the time of his leaving college, his whole regular income was, as De Quincey puts it with characteristic quaintness, "precisely = 0," this was but a fleeting condition of embarrassment, if it was even that. Never, surely, was penniless poet more readily helped above the menaces of ' t&Bscr -- - \" - OIIASMEB.E. CllOSTinVAITE.] A GENEROUS NEIGHBOUR. 161 SAMUEL TAYIJIK UuLElUDCE. worldly care. A young man of good family, and with extraordinary discern- ment of the uses to which money might beneficially be put, happened to be dying of pulmonary consumption ; and, as might befall in a pleasant fiction, though a most unusual incident of real life, he left £000 to his poetical neighbour, be- cause he wanted it; a most ridiculous reason, as many excellent persons no doubt thought, for a young gentleman- farmer to entertain. It was, however, the basis of Wordsworth's prosperity, which was built up by a series of lucky accessions. The "bad Lord Lonsdale," out of sheer mad perversity, and a determination to do the tiling that was wrong, had withheld payment of money due to his law-agent, Wordsworth's father. His lordship's successor, a man of conscience, looking into his family affairs, found out the true state of the case, and hastened to make restitution. By this act of simple honesty, the Wordsworths were duly benefited. Then, Miss Hutchinson brought her spouse some little fortune, which, after their mar- riage, was handsomely increased by a legacy. The removal of Mr. and Mrs. Wordsworth to Rydal Mount, where the poet continued to reside for the rest of his life, a period of thirty-seven years, was marked by continued access of fortune. Through the instrumentality of Lord Lonsdale, he was appointed dis- tributor of stamps for Westmoreland, a somewhat lucrative post, yielding an annual revenue of £000 ; to this was in time added a Government pension of £300 a year: and apart from these monetary benefits, the Laurcatesbip and the academic honours conferred on him by the universities of Oxford and Durham, together with his advancing fame, gladdened the declining years of his honoured life. lie died on St. George's La)', 1850, three years after V WmMm Wmm i jm BHi' : "WILLIAM WOllDSWORTII, {From a 1'ortrait by Hancock) 102 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Gbabmeiuj and his beloved daughter, Dora Quillinan, and about thrice that interval of time before the death of Mrs. Wordsworth, who continued to dwell at Rydal Mount, deprived of sight, but cheerful and full of conversational power, as in the old time. Nor is it alone with the church of Grasmere that, in fame as well as in mortality, we associate the name of William Wordsworth. His epitaph on Southey has been read by every Lake tourist visiting the church of Crosthwaite. This large, ancient, and massive building, with heavy buttresses and battlements, is dedicated to St. Kentigern. The church was restored in 1845. Its ancient monuments and brasses, curious font of Edward III., and other points of anti- quarian interest, are obscured in general estimation by the monument of Robert Southey, a recumbent figure, by the self-taught sculptor, John Graham Lough. The epitaph, by Wordsworth, happily touches every memorable point of Southey's history. These are the closing lines : — " Itis joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud From Skiddaw's top ; but lie to Heaven was vowed Through a life long and pure; and Christian faith Oalm'd in his soul the fear of change and death." Of whom do we speak as the "Lake Poets"? There is inevitably some confusion of ideas in the frequent use of a phrase so loose and uncertain. The ''Lake School," a still less intelligible designation, was first applied to the followers or imitators of Wordsworth, who are now forgotten, if they ever really existed. But by the "Lake Poets" we may signify a small group of inde- pendently creative minds that never constituted, nor ever could constitute, a school. Of these, Wordsworth himself stands first; and when we have added the names of Coleridge, who wrote too little, and Southey, who wrote too much, the alliance or community of poetical thought and feeling indicated by the term "Lake Poets," or " Lakists," is made up. To the group might indeed be at- tached, by some license of imperfect association, Thomas de Quincey, who for a time succeeded to the occupancy of Wordsworth's first dwelling-place at Grasmere, and who, though not strictly definable as a poet, had undoubtedly the poetical gifts, both of imagination and fancy, in a high degree. The single volume in which Wordsworth published his "Lyrical Ballads" in 1798 contained, as the contribution of an anonymous friend, Coleridge's "Lime of the Ancient Mariner." As if to complete, for all future lime, the personal association of the two poets, then unknown by name, Wordsworth's own hand appears in two id' the most familiar lines of his friend's poem. The " ray of a new morning" was found by De Quincey, though only a boy of thirteen at the time, in this book, so coldly and ignorantly received by the public. He, almost alone, perceived in it an absolute revelation of untrodden worlds, teeming with power and beauty as yet unsuspected among men. It seems that Qkosthwaite.] LIKE BUT DIFFERENT. 163 Professor Wilson, entirely unconnected with "the English Opium-Eater," and not even known to him until ten years later, received from the same volume the same startling and profound impressions, he being no older than De Quincey himself. Wordsworth and Coleridge were, at the time of publication, respec- tively twenty-eight and twenty-six years of age; but it is scarcely necessary to remind any ordinary reader that both were precocious versifiers, or that, in addition to the poetic faculty, Coleridge was a very Gibbon of erudition when but a boy of fourteen. A "playless day-dreamer," lie acquired learning without effort; and Laving made himself head-scholar at Christ's Hospital, where he was schoolmate of Charles Lamb and Leigh Hunt, he proceeded to Jesus College, Cambridge, where, in his first year, he gained the Browne gold medal for the Greek ode. Incurring debts, which weighed heavily on his mind and spirits, though the amount was small, and having, moreover, made himself obnoxious by the unpatriotic principles — as they were thought to be — which were afterwards so strongly expressed in his ode, "France," he suddenly left Cambridge, flung himself forlorn and desolate on the world of London, and enlisted, as all people know — even though knowing little or nothing else about Coleridge — in the 15th Light Dragoons, soon to be discovered and bought out by his friends. From both his friends, from Southey more, indeed, than from Wordsworth, Coleridge differed vastly in all but the common lies of intellect. Circumstances and their effect upon character strengthened the contrast between him and Wordsworth; but in habit, conduct, all that comes of character — in prin- ciple, that is to say, which is little affected by circumstances — Coleridge was still further removed from Southey. What Wordsworth would have been with- out the easy flow of fortune which satisfied his wants it would not be easy to say. But of Southey, changeable in his opinions like Wordsworth and like Coleridge, but fixed in laborious resolution, and in calm, steadfast adherence to the rules he had laid down for his own guidance through life, it may be safely said he was the very opposite of that common type of mankind, a "creature of circumstance." A voluminous poet, whose published verse might have been vastly augmented had he not destroyed at least half the quantity he produced, it was by his prose writings that, as he himself laughingly said, he "made the pot boil." And boil it did, to a pretty tune; for this often anonymous writer of reviews, who was exceedingly modest and contented in his ideas of remunera- tion, and neither courted nor enjoyed popularity, amassed a library which was itself a fortune, and left £12,000 to be divided amongst his children. There was close fellowship through many years among these great men and a fourth, who, though falling short of the mark at which greatness can be said to begin, was not unworthy to be associated in literary labours with two of them, Coleridge and Southey. This was Robert Lovell, who began his intimacy by 164 AH HEY '8 AND CHURCHES. [Ghasmeue and publishing, in conjunction with Southey, a volume of poems, and who afterwards joined in other labours — not to mention a wild scheme of emigration — which CROSTHWAITE. included Coleridge. It must not be left unmentioned that the throe fellow-poets married sisters, natives of Bristol, named Fricker. The lady who was espoused by .Southey died an unhappy imbecile; and, as is well known, he took for his second wife the gifted Caroline Bowles. In the matter of boons and legacies not even Coleridge had cause to complain of ill-fortune; for an annuity of £75, left him by his friend Mr. Wedgwood, who had materially aided his travels and studies, must have helped him in later years to keep the wolf from the door. Mrs. Lovell, widow of the poet who was brother-in-law of Coleridge and Southey, came to live for a time with the two families, when thev occupied in combination the plain dwelling-house on a hill overhanging the river Greta. She brought her won with her, so that there were in all three families, the children of each having by consequence two several aunts. It was one of Southey's jests to call the eminence on which their house was placed the ant-hill. Coleridge abandoned the Lakes many years — twenty-four, according to De Quincey — before his death at Highgate, on the 25th July, 1834. Southey, of whom it may be said, in distinction from Wordsworth and Coleridge, that his ideality was tinged less by German thought than with the colours of that strong and richly-blossoming Teutonic branch of the Latin tongue, Spanish, remained, CltOSTIiWAITE. AN INSEVERABLE LINK. 1CD like Wordsworth, constant to the scones in which his part in life hud principally been played. The poet of the " Prelude," the " Excursion," and many a more familiar and better-loved strain of natural, reflective verse, lies buried, as we have seen, at Grasmere. " Westminster contains no resting-place so tit for him." Southcy's grave is in the churchyard of Crosthwaite, and of his monu- ment within the church mention has already boon made. It is a link between the two friends, who rest apart, but whose tombs are drawn together in. the deathless sympathy of poetic thought, Wordsworth's heartfelt lines shedding immortal radiance on the cold marble of Southcy's sculptured form. Godfkky Wordsworth Turner. f«» .-.■■Wv m$*m* 11 crosthwaite: southey s monument. THE PRIORY CHURCB OF ST. JOHN, BRECON. nPITE second cathedral in tins great diocese." So spake the Bishop of St. David's -L on the memorable occasion when the ornate eastern window was unveiled by his lordship, on April 13th, 1882, to the double memory of those noble fellows (many of them brave Welshmen) who fonght against fearful odds on that terrible field of carnage, Isandhlwana, and of those who battled even more gloriously in defending the hospital at Rorke's Drift. " Brecon Priory Church is indisputably the third church not in a state of ruin in the Principality: it possibly might venture to dispute the second place with Llandaff." Thus wrote, a few years ago, Mr. Freeman, the historian, and withal an authority on Norman churches. The grandeur of this sacred Norman pile as a whole, added to its internal architectural beauty, and to the wealth of its archaeological and antiquarian records, has given well-earned meaning to the phrase, " the grand old Prior}' ( Ihurch." The Priory Church (or the Church of the Hop" Pood) is dedicated to St. John the Evangelist, and was first built by Bernard de Newmarch, one of the Norman knights who came over with William tin; Conqueror (said to he indeed ids half- brother). There is something intensely pathetic about the tale of the subjugation of Breconshire to the Norman yoke. Brecon had a noble line of native princes; they fought valiantly against the foreign invader; and on the spot where the earlier Romans had erected their camp (the great Caer-eainp). a few hundred years later we find the native British princes squeezed into a corner, as it were, and compelled to fight against the mailed hosts of the merciless ( lonqueror. The Norman knights had " already paid homage and sworn fealty for the lands they had not yet conquered in Wales; " and thus it comes about that we find Bernard de Newmarch confronting Prince Blethyn ap Maenarch in his chief town of Caer Vong (ancient Brecon), situated two miles higher up the valley than the present town. Here Blethyn made "a last stand." Alas! lie was slain; his town of Caer Vong was razed; and Newmarch moved down the river Usk two miles into a beautiful and secluded -alley : he had an eye to the picturesque, hard, feudal lord though he was, and lere he built a castle, fortified a town, and presently erected the hue embattled die of St. John's and the priory of Benedictine monks adjoining. One can pretty veil picture the scene of those bygone times. Brecon (which is 171 miles from London — seven hours' railway journey) is built in one long and narrow valley: on the one side the stately Beacons reared their heads; ami the fine old tower of 8t. John's, almost as massively square as it is tall, would then, as now, he a con- spicuous object in the panoramic view. •\ Vv St. John's, Buecojt.] A TYPICAL PORTRAIT. 167 Tlie Priory Church is nobly situated on an eminence, and is almost a perfect example of pure Norman work; and, to quote Mr. Freeman once again, "Brecon is a grand and perfect whole, which LlanclafE is not. Its external idea, is that of pure bulk, and no building ever better expressed if. Its outline, as a matter of picturesque effect, is inimitable;" and we have been further told by this eminent expert, and the words have been reiterated by the late Sir Gilbert Scott (who carried out the restoration work in 1800 — 75), that the Priory Church, with " the •splendours of its magnificent presbytery, is our of the choicest examples of the Early English style, on a scale intermediate between the sublime majesty of Ely and the diminutive elegance of Skelton." The presence of an old Saxon font has led some antiquarians and archaeologists to wax warm on the theme whether the church is to bo reckoned of Norman or pre-Norman creation ; but the dim light of medhvval history fairly and conclusively points to the conclusion that after the battle of Oaer Vong (temp. 1090), the "local monarch" founded Brecknock Priory as a cell to Battle Abbey, in Sussex; and when we further remember that one of the chapels in the church of the Holy Rood of Brecon is called to this day Battle Chapel, Battle being the name of the parish in which Prince Blethyn and his troops were slain, wc think the evidence is irresistible that the first eccle- siastical pile was erected here by Bernard the Norman. This Bernard de Newmarch was a stern, boisterous, commanding old knight. His time on earth seems to have been pretty well and fully occupied in the serious pastimes of conquering, murdering, building, praying, endowing. " For the peace of his soul," as the old terroriser well expressed it in his "last will and testament," he bequeathed corn-mills, and tithes, and churches, to keep the Priory of Benedictine Monks at Brecon a-going: ; and when Bluff Old Hal "laid hands" upon the mo- nasteries and their rich endowments, "Brecknock Priory" must have been a veritable golden egg. After supplying all the wants and scruples of Henry VIII., Sir John Price, of the Priory, antiquarian, author, and promoter of the Welsh Act of Union, who had been commissioned to carry out the unpleasant duty of " evicting the monks," inherited a large and goodly estate out of " the royal leavings ; " for when Robert Haider, the last prior, surrendered up possession to Henry VIII. in 1537, the possessions were valued at £112 14s. 2d. Newmarch, besides being a faithful son of the Church, was a very astute lord. He accordingly married a Welsh damsel, the daughter of one of his most turbulent and valiant foes (Gruffydd ap Llewellyn), but this expected model Norman-Welsh alliance brought unhappiness and disaster into the Lord of Brecknock's castle. The story is that Newmarch had a son and daughter by Ins wife Nest. The son's name was Mahael, a high-spirited youth, who had observed that his mother was unfaithful to her sovereign lord, and was actually carrying on an intrigue against his father's home and kingdom. This incensed Mahael, and he warned his guilty mother of her 168 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. John's, infamy. This not having the desired effect, lie challenged her knight and wounded him. To be revenged on Mahael, the sinful mother, wlio.se passion had seemingly destroyed all maternal feeling, swore that Mahael was not her lawful sou ; this was credited by Newmarch ; Mahael was disinherited, and the estates were given to his sister. There are several interesting periods in the history of the Priory Church. The first was the period of the rule of the de Breoses, the Fitzwalters, and the de Bohuns (all Lords of Brecon). We must pass this by somewhat hurriedly, all-important though it was in the history of the Priory; its great and vast-embattled walls were built up in the heyday of conquest and riot, and wealth and property flowed into its coffers from the deathbeds of spiritual cowards — men who had lived boldly and courageously after a fashion, but who yet feared to die as they had lived. The second period in the history of the church comprised probably the building of the fine central tower, which still remains, and of the chancel — which is ten feet longer than that of St. David's Cathedral — by Bishop Giles de Breos of Hereford ; and it is assumed, with some amount of certainty, seeing' that this bishop was Lord of Brecon, " that the tower in tin. 1 hands of his effigy in Hereford Cathedral refers to Saint John's Church at Brecon." This was the Early English period, and " those were the davs of the glory of the noble church," when "the praise of Grod ascended daily, almost hourly, and the doors were continually open for the devout burgesses and followers of the lordly patron." Then succeeded the Buckinghains, who held as Lords of Brecknock; and while the second Luke of Buckingham enjoyed this lordship, it was his ill-fate to have consigned to him, for safe custody, Morton, Bishop of Ely, by King Richard. Duke Henry had assisted to raise Richard to the throne, but both lie and the wily bishop were not slow to show that they did not like the king; and here, in Ely Tower, in the Castle of Brecon, and within speaking distance of the Priory Church, was concocted the famous plot for dethroning Richard. The Duke of Buckingham set out from Brecknock Castle on a given day with a large arm)-; he reached Gloucester, but the floods had much swollen the river Severn, rendering it impassable, and we art.' not surprised to learn that Buckingham's ill-appointed army " melted like snow in the warm sun." Buckingham was taken prisoner through the treachery of a trusted servant, and executed in the Market- place, Shrewsbury. Edward Stafford, the traitor's son, was ultimately restored to title and estates, by Henry ATI.; like his father, he was proud, ambitious, and felt himself a duke : — " He deemed plebeians, with patrician blood Compared, the creatures of a, lower species: Mere menial hands, l>y nature meant to serve him." Brecon 7 .] A HAUGHTY NOBLE. WD It is recorded that on one occasion lie exhibited such haughtiness that he threw a basin of water in Cardinal Wolsey's face, and this impetuous incident sealed his ST. JOHN S, BKECOX. destruction; lie was executed on Tower Hill, May 17th, 1521. He met his fate with heroic courage, disdaining to sue for mercy. A foreign emperor, when lie heard of his execution, severely remarked that " a butcher's dog had run down the finest buck in England' 1 (alluding to Wolsey's being the son of a. butcher). With the fall of the Buckinghams, succeeded by the dissolution of the mo- nasteries, the former magnificence of the Church and Priory of St. John passed away. Then came the era of the trade guilds, with their beautifully sculptured memorial stones, many of which still adorn and pave the floors of the church — the mercers, the corvizors, the weavers, the tuckers: honest burgesses of Brecon, man}' of them of ancient lineage, and many of them, again, the ancestors of opulent families now resident in the county. The baron and his retainers, the prior and his monks, were now to disappear for ever, and "the town and trade," as such, became conspicuous in their place. The borough eoat-of-arnis remains to this day painted on the south respond of one of the stately arches. The remains of the screens and wainscoting of this period may yet be seen. The "guild crosses" w 170 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Si John's, are dated from 1550, and the latest date on a cross is " 1602." These guilds, each of them, had separate "chapels" in the Priory Church, and the chapels are called after them to this day. In 1723 and 1741 the church was described "as a magnificent, spacious build- ing, built in the shape of a cross ; it is near '2*hi feet long and 60 feet broad." The Priory House, so called after the Dissolution, when it became the ancestral seat of the Prices, of whom Sir John Price was the founder, opened into the church on the north side of a well-payed "cloyster." The church was "handed over" by Robert Haider, the last prior, to the Vicar of Brecon, >Sir Thomas ap Jenkin Groge, on the 1st August, 1520, and the deed recites that the vicar and his suc- cessors for ever "shall have meat and drink at the Prior's Tome messe contin- ually and daily, and when it pleases him to come, he to have his heaver at two of the clock at afternoon, and also after supper, that is to say, a cup of ale at the Buttery Hatch." Sir Richard Price, of the Priory, son of Sir John Price, and William Gwynne- Vaughan, Esquire, M.P., of Trebarried, near Brecon, are stated to have been on terms of great intimacy with the immortal and divine Shakespeare ; ami Thomas Campbell, the poet, in his "Life' of Mrs. Siddons" (the great actress of tragedy herself was born at Brecon on duly 5th, 1755), observes, under date May 18th, 1833: "It is no later than yesterday that I discovered a probability — almost near a certainty — that Shakespeare visited friends in the very town where Mrs. Siddons was horn, and that he there found in a neighbouring glen, called ' The Valley of Fairy Puck,' the principal machinery of A Midsummer Night's Dream." A first folio edition of Shakespeare was some few years ago found in an old muniment room at Vaughan's place (Trebarried Mansion), and is now at Glanusk Park, Crickhowell, the seat of Sir J. R. Bailey, Bart., M.P., Lord-Lieutenant of Breck- nockshire. These facts, coupled with the beautiful situation of Priory House, opening out, as it does, on to shaded ami well-wooded walks, called "The Groves" (the pride id' Brecon and the theme id' all visitors), and the fact that one of Shakespeare's characters, " Fluellen," is the counterpart of "The Breck- nockshire Squire," Sir David Gam, knighted on the field of Agincourt by Henry V., would reasonably point to the conclusion that Shakespeare actually visited at the Priory House, winch at that time would he the principal and most stately mansion in the county. The monuments in the Priory Church comprise sculptures and slabs to many county families, some of them tin; descendants of the original fifteen Norman knights that "came over to help" Bernard Xewmarch, and among whom he afterwards parcelled out the fair county into manors. The Awbreys, Walbeoffes, Skulls, Havards, Herberts, are represented. Quaint Thomas Churchyarde, in his " Worthinesse of Wales," has left us a goodly store of verse descriptive of Bbboon.] THE MONUMENTS. 171 many of the ancient tombs in this church, but at the time of the Cromwellian upheaval some of the stones seem to have been removed, and others broken. Several of the Prices, of the Priory, are buried here, Shakespeare's friend, Richard Price, and his lady among the number. The recumbent effigy, in alabaster, of Sir David Williams, one of the Justices of Pleas (died 1613), and that of his wife, Lady Williams, lying on his right side, vividly depict to the eye of the observer the dress customary in those days. Lady Williams has the partlet head-dress, wears a ruff round the neck, and is habited in a gown with ample skirt, over which is worn a rich stomacher buttoned in front of the breast. The sleeves are full at the shoulders, and cuffed at the wrists with small ruffs. A curious effigy, called " Mary Drele," is worthy of note. There are several monuments here to the Camden family, one of whom, by marriage with an heiress, acquired this old monastic property (the Priory) ; another to Dr. Thomas (Joke, the founder of the Wesleyan Missionary Society, who was bailiff and alderman of Brecon ; and several to the Penrys, all of whom are descended from John Penry, the martyr, the morn- ing star of the Reformation in Cambria. lie was a native of Breconshire, and was executed at St. Thomas-a- Watering, in Queen Elizabeth's reign [temp. 1593), after what Sir Thomas Phillips declares to lie " a trial that disgraces English justice." Several of the monuments are the work of John Evan Thomas, a famous Welsh sculptor. One, however, is by the great Flaxman himself, and another by his brother artist, Bacon. Numerous sculptures commemorate past vicars of the parish. And we may here be allowed to say that Brecon has hud one or two notable clergymen. It is a long stretch from Archdeacon Giraldus Cambrensis to Archdeacon Davies. As to the former, we remember reading an amusing account of a collision between the venerable, but not always decorous, Giraldus and a certain Bishop of St. Asaph, when they met in full canonicals and disputed very warmly each other's right to dedicate Kerry Church (in Montgomeryshire). Neither would give way, so they set about excommunicating one another in right down earnest ; but the wily Archdeacon of Brecon got possession of the church keys, and commenced to de- dicate the sacred place. The bishop once again excommunicated the archdeacon, aiacl Giraldus, nothing daunted, excommunicated the bishop in return, and ordered the bells to lie rung three times as the usual confirmation of the sentence. Tins so discomfited his reverence of St. Asaph that he hastily mounted his horse, and, together with his followers, beat an undignified retreat. Archdeacon Davies, of Brecon, lived at the time of the French invasion scare.', and was major in one of the home regiments of volunteers that had been raised to defend the county in case of need. The venerable archdeacon was a tall, finely-built man. " Who is that smart officer?" asked a stranger who visited Brecon, when he saw the volunteers on Sunday parade. "Why, don't you know? Archdeacon Davies," 172 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. John's, Bkecok. was the reply. The next Sunday, after coming out of church, the same person asked, "Who preached that capital sermon?" " Why, Major Davies, to be sure ! " was the reply. This magnificent and historical church has been thoroughly restored at a cost of some £13,000 or £14,000. The chancel, transepts, and tower were restored in 1860, and the nave and aisles in 1ST.'! — 75. The late Sir Gilbert Scott devised the whole of the restoration plan, and the sacred pile was re-opened on May 18th, 1875, by Bishop Basil Jones, in the presence of the nobility and elite of the county. The Bishop, in his sermon, said: — "The temple which we this day open afresh for the service of God is remarkable, among other things, on this account, that the design of an architect who has been in the grave for some six hundred years has only been carried out to its completion in our own day." Of the line five-light window, designed by Mr. W. G. Taylor, the gift of the officers of the South Wales Borderers (24th Regiment of Foot), we have already spoken as having been placed in the church — at a cost of £600 — to the memory of 22 officers and 655 men of the 1st and '2nd battalions who fell in the South African campaign of 1877 — 79. The unveiling of this handsome memorial was made the occasion of an imposing military display, when some 5,000 persons assembled in the church. There is also a memorial cross, mounted on black marble, near the pulpit, with inscription and names thereon. * In the 27th October, 1886, a new organ was erected in the church, in the place of an ancient instrument that originally came from Drury Lam; Theatre in 1789. The new organ has been placed in Tregunter Chapel, which has been restored for its reception. Should the diocese of St. David's ever be divided, the Priory Church at Brecon will assuredly become the new cathedral. The present bishop, an historian and archaeologist, admits that there is not another church in Wales like it, and not a single church in his diocese to compare to it. St. John's has been spoken of in this probable connection, and it well merits the honour, especially when Ave bear in mind that in perhaps no town in the Principality of Wales has the Church of England made more progress during the last twenty-five years than she has done in the county town of Brecon. Edwin Poole THE TEMPLE CHURCH: THE ROTUNDA. TEMPLE CHURCH, LONDON; ST. SEPULCHRE'S, CAMBRIDGE AND NORTHAMPTON; LITTLE MAPLLSTEAD, ESSEX. REMEMBRANCES OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. /~\NE result of the capture of Jerusalem by the Crusaders was the establishment v -^ of two Orders, which differed from most others in being at once martial and religious ; their members being professedly men of war rather than men of peace: these were the Knights Templars and the Knights Hospitallers. The former had the more brief, but the more brilliant, existence. Established for the especial defence of the Holy Sepulchre, and called at first "the Poor of the Holy City," they obtained their more familiar name from the Temple, * near to which they were lodged. Their residence here, like their earlier poverty, was compara- tively short-lived. Jerusalem was recaptured bv the Saracens in the year 1187, and the Latin Kingdom came to an end. But prior to this event the Templars had establishments in Europe, where at first they were in high favour. Men's goodwill took a material form, and the Order was soon rich in money and in lands. The usual results followed: with wealth came corruption, and such virtues as they had possessed when poor they lost when rich. If we could believe the stories told by their enemies, there were few crimes of which they were not guilty, and the < )rder had secretly ceased to be Christian even in belief. But the suppression of the Templars is among the mysteries of the past, of which, probably, we shall never know the whole truth. The Order was very rich, this is an undoubted fact; that wealth had wrought its common effects is almost as certain ; and that the peculiar union of soldier and monk in one person had not produced a happy result may be well understood. It is also possible that Eastern lore and Eastern mysticism may have exercised their fascinations over some of the members, and exposed them to suspicions of unorthodoxy which were not wholly without foundation. But the common charges seem to be incredible in their very monstrosity. Many men disbelieved them at the time, and saw the finger of Cod when, not long after the destruction of the Order and the judicial murder of many of its members, its principal enemies died miserably ; and most people think that old Fuller was not far wrong when he considered their wealth to have been their real crime, and quaintly said that their foes '■' could not get the honey unless they burnt the bees." The churches of these two Orders, of which four still remain in England, were peculiar in plan, a rotunda or sometimes a polygonal building standing at * The Mosque Bl-Aksa was at this time called Temjiluvi Salomonis ; the Kubbet-es-Sakharah Teniphim Domini. The Templars' residence! adjoined the former; the Hospitallers' was near the Holy Sepulchre. 174 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [The Temple Church. the western end. Tin's was in memory of the Church <>f the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, where a dome-shaped building still covers, as it did in the twelfth century, the traditional site of the sacred tomb. The Temple Church in London, though nut the oldest in England, may be fitly described first, as being the largest and most sumptuous, and the head-quarters of that Order in England. Its rotunda was built about the year 1185, that is, shortly before the fall of Jerusalem ; the rest of the church appears to have been completed during the next half-century. Thus the latter is a beautiful example of the best period of the "first Pointed" or "Early English" style, while the rotunda marks the transition from the Norman. The entrance door and the windows are round-headed, the triforium has similar arches interlacing, while the supporting arches are pointed. It thus exhibits a peculiarly felicitous com- bination of Norman solidity and Early English grace — the fruit of a happy union of styles, essentially masculine and feminine. The effect also of this dome-like structure, with its circular ambulatory and elevated central "drum," is peculiarly good. Whether we look into the body of the church from it, or into it from the other part, the contrast of the two plans and the novel grouping of the pillars may well cause us to regret that this arrangement has been so rarely adopted by English architects. After the suppression of tin.' Order, which was completed by the Council of Vienne in 1312, this church and the adjoining ground ultimately passed into the hands of the great leg'al corporation which still retains the name of the original founders, and is known as the Temple. This society, owing to the increase in the number of its members, was subdivided in the reign of Henry VI. The church is in the precincts of the Inner Temple, the other Corporation bear- ing the name of the Middle Temple. Our limited space forbids us to dwell on the history of these societies, though the memories of great lawyers cannot be separated wholly from the church. The most stirring incident in its career occurred in the insurrection of Wat Tyler, to whom men of the law were an abomination. lie, it is said, took out of it "the books and records that were in closets of the apprentices of the law, carried them out into the street, and then burnt them." Even in the time of its former owners it had had some experience of robbery, but the plunderer was no less a person than Edward I., who in the year 1283, after gaining admission to the Treasury on the pretext of wishing to examine the jewels of his mother which had been deposited there, helped himself large!)' to the property of the knights. The church had a narrow escape from the Great Fire of 1666, sixteen years after which it was beautified and adorned in the taste of that age; a few years later the south-west part was rebuilt. It was, we read, also "repaired and beautified 5 ' in 1706, being, among other improvements, " wholly new whitewashed." It suffered The Temple Church.] TOMBS OF THE TEMPLARS. ]', in like manner on three other occasions before the great "restoration," which began in 1839 and continued to 1842, at the cost of £70,000. It was a great misfortune that this was undertaken so early in the " Gothic revival," for the building lost much of its historical cha- racter, the old work was copied, the old carving perished, and much of the imita- tive detail is very unsatisfactory. Still, it is a very curious and beautiful church, the interior of which retains the structural character and the leading details of the original building. At the "restoration" the later monu- ments which had accumulated in the church were removed to the triforium. The most noteworthy among these com- memorate Edmund Plowdcn, of whom as a jurist it was said " better authority could not lie cited;" Howell, author of the well-known letters; and Martin, a recorder of London early in the seventeenth century. Opening on to the staircase which leads to the triforium is a narrow cell ; in this "little ease," it is said, offenders were imprisoned, narrow slits in the wall enabling them to hear the services and look into the church. There is even a tradition that Walter de Bacheler, Grand Preceptor of Ireland, died here of hunger in expiation of offences against the discipline of the Order. Some persons of prosaic minds, however, declare that it was only a cell for the bell-ringers. In the rotunda have been placed nine effigies of associate-knights, and an ornamented stone coffin. These arc commemorated by Butler in the days when the church, like the nave of St. Paul's, was desecrated, and men were wont to SErUlCHltE S, CAMiailDGE : THE UOTINHA. ' . . walk the round with Knights o' the Posts About the cross-legged knights their hosts." One effigy is supposed to represent an Karl of Pembroke, who was the husband of a daughter of Henry I.; another, the Earl whom Shakespeare represents as pleading with John on behalf of Prince Arthur; a third, his son, killed untimely at a tourna- ment by a runaway horse. Of the father's monument a grim story is told. The Earl, it is said, had seized the lands of the Abbey of Femes; the Abbot had pro- nounced a curse upon the spoiler, hut in a merciful mood came to the grave and offered to take it off if the lands were restored. But the dead man made no sign, and so the curse fell, and, as men believed, was accomplished in the son's death. 176 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Tin: Temple CntucH. As pavements, walls, fittings, are all modern, there is no need to describe them; we merely glance at the columns of Purbeck marble, repaired remnants of those that ■■'■■■" ■:' ' 'Vii l '-'i!:;!^ : ;-":: : :;'':i;'' i ' : 1! if: ; ::Vi: 1! i': ' "l- ' •.;:..,. " ' : ; ^'i». : ii'i!fci ST. SErrLrnKF.'s, NORTHAMPTON. were once " polished like so many gems," ami at the emblems of the Order painted on the new roof — the lamb and flag — the two knights on one horse, a memorial of its short-lived poverty — and the like. A plain slab, all but concealed, on the south side of the communion-table, has been spared to record John iSelden, whoso "stupendous learning" was equalled, in the opinion of his contemporaries, by his grace and goodness. A much older tomb, and more interesting to the archae- ologist, is believed to commemorate Silverston de Eversdon, Bishop of Carlisle, while in the vestry are memorials to Eldon, Stowell, and Thurlow. The memories, however, of the Temple are not wholly legal. More than St. Sepulchre's, Cambridge.] TEMPLE WORTHIES. 177 one name illustrious in literature is connected witli its precincts. Samuel Johnson lived at No 1, Inner Temple Lane, where Johnson Buildings new stand; Charles Lamb lived for awhile in Crown Office Row; Oliver Goldsmith had chambers LITTLE MATLESTEAD. beneath the studious Blackstone, whose labours at the commentaries on the laws of England were sorely disturbed by his neighbour's revels; Goldsmith died in Brick Court, and was buried in the churchyard near the path leading to the Master's house, where a tomb has been erected in his memory. Among the occupants of this house — though the office, so far as authority goes, is now the shadow of a shade — have been famous men, who in their turn have ministered in the church. Among these it will suffice to name Richard Hooker, who, however, found here so little peace that, to compose the "Eccle- siastical Polity," he retired to the quiet of a country parsonage. The office is now held by Charles Vaughan; and, in addition to the attraction of the preaching, the music at the church is excellent. The other three churches are said to have been connected with the Order of the Knights Hospitallers. The church of St. Sepulchre at Cambridge is of earlier date, but of much smaller size, than that of the Temple. The rotunda is a Norman structure, erected probably rather early in the history of the Order. 178 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Sem-lchkl's, Nohtuamftow. Massive circular pillars, with capitals of plain but good design, from which spring semicircular arches, simply ornamented, support the tympanum, which also is circular in form, lighted by round-headed windows, and crowned by a conical roof. The upper part, however, is mainly modern, being a restoration of the present century. Old plates represent an octagonal turret of two storeys as rising from the circular roof of the ambulatory. This is lighted by rather plain windows, Perpendicular in style. The round-headed windows which light, or profess to light, the ambulatory, are also a new restoration of the supposed originals, which in the fourteenth century had been replaced by much larger open- ings. The eastern part of the church was built about the year 1313, probably on the foundation of an earlier structure; except that, as in the Temple Church, its length is small compared with its breadth, there is nothing in it to call for remark. The policy of the renovation of the rotunda is, of course, open to question, but probably the building in its present state very nearly represents the original structure. Restoration gave the church its first claim to a place in history. The work was done by the Cambridge Camden Society. Its leading members were in sympathy with the new school of " High Churchmen." Their proclivities were expressed by the erection of a stone altar in the restored church. The in- cumbent — who appears to have had little voice in the matter — objected, and a lawsuit was the result. Ultimately it was decided by the Court of Arches that the structure was illegal, and it was removed. This dispute practically broke up the Camden Society, which had been acquiring great influence at Cam- bridge; many leading members of the University withdrew from it, and others, finding the Church of England uncongenial, seceded to Rome. The church of the Holy Sepulchre at Northampton is carious not only for its design and architecture, but also as an instance of growth by accretion. Perhaps wo may give the best idea, of a rather complicated plan by briefly indi- cating the probable developments. About the end of the eleventh century, some one — perhaps Simon de St. Liz, first Norman Lord of Northampton— erected a church in memory of the Holy Sepulchre, consisting of a rotunda after the usual plan, with a choir or chancel to the east. This choir, as indicated by some remains of Norman work in the present chancel arch, extended at least as far as this, and perhaps terminated in an apse. Tut about a century later it was pulled down, and replaced by a building with aisles and a large chapel — possibly a little later in date — on the north. After this, during the next two centuries, many changes were made. The upper part of the rotunda was pulled down, only the massive columns and the outer Avail of the ambulatory being left, and in this some of the windows were altered. The part then destroyed was rebuilt witti Pointed arches and on an octagonal plan, and many alterations were made Little Maplestead.] RESTORATIONS. 170 i:i the church. One of tlic latest— in the fifteenth century —was tlie erection of a handsome steeple west of the rotunda. Before the present century began the northern chapel had disappeared, as well as the original chancel; and prior to the restoration, which commenced in 185o, and was carried on at intervals until 1879, the building had suffered much from the effects of time and ill-usage. Then the north chapel or aisle was rebuilt on its old foundations ; so was the present chancel, with its apsidal termination, the limit of this also being determined by the old substructures. Much also was done in the restoration of details, such as roofing, fittings, window tracery, pavement, and the like, so that the church is now in excellent order, capable of holding a considerable congregation, and is an extremely pic- turesque though curiously irregular structure. The door of the choir is at a higher level than that of the rotunda, and this also enhances the effect, which undoubtedly is much improved by the apsidal termination. So much restoration and rebuilding are, of course, perplexing to the antiquarian, but apparently this was almost inevitable. The rotunda is not seated, but is used as the baptistery; a, largo stone font, a memorial to the late Canon James, who was active in the restoration, occupying the centre. The surrounding pavement, an elaborate modern work, is from the design id' Lord Alwvne Compton, the Bishop of Ely. No incidents of historic- interest are connected with this church, but in itself it well repays a halt of some hours at Northampton, which town is also so fortunate as to possess in St. Peter's one of the most remarkable ami most perfect Norman churches in the kingdom. The church of Little Maplestead, the smallest of the four round churches still remaining in England, stands in a pleasant upland district a couple id' miles from the market-town of Ifalstead, in Essex. This village, together with its neighbour, Great Maplestead, is said to be mimed from the maple trees once abundant in the district. The church of Little Maplestead stands just outside the small straggling village in a neatly-kept churchyard, which has been planted with trees. Structurally it yields in interest to none of the four; in detail it has suffered much from alterations and restoration. The latter process has been carried so far that almost all the worked stone, both within and without the build- ing, appears either to be new or to have been re-faced. This renovation, effected in 1862, under the charge of Mr. Carpenter, nun" have been inevitable, for the building some thirty years since seems to have been in part roofless, and all fait a ruin. The church consists of a rotunda or nave, and a choir or chancel, without aisles, terminating in a. semicircular apse of the same diameter. It has a small western porch, partly of wood, which was added in the fifteenth century. The walls arc built of flint rubble, squared stones being only used in buttresses, windows, etc. The modern roof has a high pitch; and over the rotunda is a low wooden 180 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Little Mapeestead. tower — more like a dove-cot than aught else. This rests on a hexagon supported by arches, and from each of the six pillars another arch is thrown off to the side walls to sustain the fiat ceiling of the aisle. The church has evidently been much altered; the outer walls are all that remain of the original Late Norman structure. The west door and the arches within the rotunda are Early Deco- rated ; the windows, of both nave and chancel, are of about the time of Edward III. — assuming, of course, that the present details are a reproduction of the original, which we believe to be the case. There is now no east window, though one is mentioned in a former description of the church. There are two windows on either side of the chancel, and a small vestry stands on the southern side. The font, though it has been mutilated by chipping off the corners, in order to make it octagonal instead of square, to the loss of some id' its simple ornamentation, is a. remnant of the original church. The church appears to have been built late in the twelfth century, for in the year 1180 the manor of Little Maplestead was granted to the Hospitallers by one Juliana Doisnel. This gift was confirmed by King John, and afterwards by Henry III., who added thereto the right of free-warren. The ground-plan, however, suu'i^ests that a very early type of church was adopted as a pattern, so that probably this structure reproduces more nearly than any of the others the original church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. fp q BoNNEY llEACnNSFIEI.il : THE CHI'IICU, WITH WALLEll's MONUMENT. BEACONSFIELD AND HUGHENDEN. TWO QUIET RESTING-PLACES. rjPIIE five miles and a half of winding and gradually ascending road which con- -"- duct the pilgrim from High Wycombe to Beaconsfield of so sweet memory, are among the most picturesque in Buckinghamshire. The chief charm of the walk is its infinite variety. For the first mile or two after leaving Wycombe the eye ranges across wide open meadows, watered by the little river which flows so gently and caressingly, as only little rivers can, right by the edge of the foot- path. Then as the road ascends the prospect widens, and although the view is often interrupted by the luxuriant woodland and thick plantations, enough can be seen to make you long for a seat in the high-top of one of the abounding pines. Appi'oaching Woobum Green there is one of those sheer hills which are the despair of bicyclists and the joy of the pedestrian — when he has surmounted them. On each hand it is thickly edged with young timber, stretching from the deep valley beneath to the summit of the hill above. This silent, solitary reach of road is full of charm to the lover of rural highways: and after one 182 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Beacons field of the red sandstone lanes of Staffordshire or Warwickshire, I know few thoroughfares which arc more purely picturesque. This ever-rnounting road at Beaconsfield widens to a broad plateau, and the little town is intersected by wide highways, which give it an aspect of dignity and con- sequence that somewhat atones for the lack of the delightful higgledy-piggledyism of most English villages. Beaconsfield always sleeps; and there is so little that is new in it that it is difficult to believe that the pretty little reading-room in the centre of the village has not stood there since Waller's time. Somebody at Beaconsfield has imitated the excellent example set in the rural communes of Belgium, and has inscribed the name of the parish upon the first house in the town. Fifty years ago Beaconsfield must have been a far livelier place than it is now. It stands a little more than halfway upon the high road from London to Oxford; and the rumble of coaches and the clatter of post-horses kept the village from going to sleep. The Saracen's Head and the Old White Hart were inns of dignity and importance then, for people travelled post and by coach all the year round; whereas cyclists, upon whom such hostelries now mainly depend, go out only in tine weather. Yet Beaconsfield is a substantial-looking townlet, wearing that quaint air of staidness and respectability which distinguishes so many of the small Buckinghamshire towns. To judge from appearances, the place has changed hut little since' Edmund Burke last looked out upon it in 17'.'?. That great statesman's love for these broad streets of red and white houses was as profound as Lord Beaconsfield's affection for the less sightly village of Hughenden. His little estate of Gregories was to him a world in which, as he often hinted, he took more delight than in the noisier world of politics. Beaconsfield, indeed, lias hail a, fortunate history. Edmund Waller, who so lone; had his home at Hall Barn, was a remarkable product of tin- changeful times in which he lived; and while he was alternately poet, politician, and conspirator, his name lives solely by virtue of lus melodious versification. Burke was less versatile but more sincere; and Beaconsfield will bear sweet memory in political history so long as it is remembered that many of Burke's fiery ami sonorous yet finely-balanced ami well-proportioned speeches were composed beneath the graceful silent shadow r of his own beeches. Beaconsfield Church stands at the junction of the London and Hedgerley roads. It has a. square tower, and is built of that mixture of flint and squared stones so often seen in Buckinghamshire churches. It is much to he regretted, on the score of lost reminiscences, that very little of the building, as Burke knew it, remains. The galleries have been removed; the height of the tower increased; the chancel lengthened; the north wall rebuilt; the south wall re-faced ; and the high pews replaced by open benches. It is nut exactly a handsome church j but it leaves a pleasing and adequate impression. Of remains of antiquity and Hugiiendek.] SIMPLICITY AND AFFECTATION. 183 it contains really none; but it can well afford to rest its claim to fame, upon its possession of the dust, of the man who, in impassioned words, when de- scribing- the wrongs of Marie Antoinette, lamented that chivalry was dead. Burke's pew was on the south side of the nave, nearly in the centre; and he desired that he might be buried beneath his accustomed seat. His wish was respected; and a small oval marble tablet of excessive plainness upon the south wall near by bears the brief legend — Near tin's place Lies interred All that was mortal of the Ttt. Honourable Edmund Bckkf,, Who died on the Oth of July, 1707, Aged G8 years. The inscription goes on to record that his son and brother were buried in the same vault. The entrance to the vault is beneath the central aisle of the nave, and it is covered by a large handsome brass placed there in LS0'3 by Mr. Edmund Ilarland Burke, the statesman's great grand-nephew and representative. The brass bears Burke's armorial achievement, and the Norman-French motto of his family: Ung rot/, wiff fog, ung log. These memorials are well in keeping with the simplicity of Burke's character, and contrast very pleasingly with the pompous affectation of the methods by which Waller, who, whatever he nun- have been, was assuredly not an honest man, is commemorated. The tomb of the author of " Go, Lively Rose," is in the neatly -kept church- yard, and is readily to be recognised by its own proportions and by the great shady walnut-tree that overhangs it. As may be seen from the illustration (page 181), it is superlatively ugly and tasteless — a mere heavy mass of masonry, with ample space for laudatory inscriptions. It is a square raised tomb, with an urn at each corner, and is cupped by a great stone pyramid or cone. Heavy iron railings enclose the massive memorial, which is of such weight that the supporting walls of the vault had perforce to extend far into the churchyard. The heaviness of the tomb, which is in somewhat ragged condition, and the deep shade cast by the hand- some walnut-tree, leave a melancholy impression upon the memory. There is a very long and very eulogistic Latin inscription, beginning Edmundi Waller /tie jacct id quantum morti cessit, which sets forth that he was a poet and a poli- tician — and, it might with truth have been added, a conspirator, who narrowly escaped with his neck. Also there is the following short legend in English: •'Edmund Waller, to whom this marble is sacred, was a, native of Coleshill and a student at Cambridge. His father was Richard; his mother of the Hampden family. He was born on the 20th of March, 1605. His first wife was Anne, only daughter and heiress of Edward Banks. Twice made a father by his first 184 ABB EYS A ND CHURCHES. [Beaconsfield wife, and thirteen times by his second. He died the 21st of October, 1687." In his earlier years, and while his first wife lived, Waller was much at Hall wali.hi, (From a Portrait »•;/ Knelln.) hukke. Barn, and funk great delight in his gardens. It was no doubt at Hall Barn that lie wrote his quaint apostroj)he : — "Bind mi', ye woodbines, in your twines, Curl mi.' about, ye gadding vines, Ami, oli, so close your tendrils lace That 1 may never leave tliis place. But, lest your fetters prove too weak, Ami I your greeny bondage break, Dn vim, oli, brumbies, bind me too, And, courteous briers, nail me through." Yet most of Waller's tunc was spent in attending Parliament — he took Ins seat for Amersham when sixteen — in following "the primrose path of dalliance" at court, and in carefully trimming his sails to suit (lie political winds. By continual turnings of coat, aided by his relationship to tin; leaders of the Parliamentary party — lie was first cousin to Hampden and nephew of one of Cromwell's uncles — he succeeded in weathering all storms, and died a, religiously-minded old man of eighty-five. His participation in what is known as "Waller's Plot," which aimed at restoring Charles I. to the throne, nearly cost him his life. His brother-in- law, who vvas much less guilty, was hanged in front of his own dour; and it was only Waller's abject cowardice, and the expenditure of £30,000 in bribes, that AND HuOHENDEN'.] AN UNSTABLE POLITICIAN. 185 obtained a commutation of the death sentence to a tine of £10,000 and perpetual banishment. But in those days nothing was perpetual, and before many years had passed Waller had made his peace with Cromwell, and was writing "A Paneffvric to mv Lord Protector," to be duly followed in 1GG0 by an Ode to Charles II. "upon his Majesty's Happy Return." Waller was unstable as water; and it is utterly impossible to believe that even his epistles to Lady Dorothy hcghenden: the CHURCH, from the faux. Sidney, upon which his fame as a poet chiefly rests, are sincere. The haughty young beauty, so well known in literary history as " Saccharissa," preferred another suitor; and although Waller married his second wife shortly afterwards, there is reason to think that he never quite forgave the lady to whom he had addressed so many sweet lines. It was one of Wallers distinctions that he was almost the first writer of verses of society, and that he wrote them most sweetly and melodiously. His numbers were always musical, even when there was nothing in them. The Hall Barn of to-day is not the house in which Waller lived. It was built in 1712, and has some interesting associations. In one of its rooms Lord Verney handed to Burke the £20,000 with which Gregories was purchased in Y ISO ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Beaconspield 1769. For nearly thirty years that brave and prescient spirit enjoyed the sweets of rural life at Gregories ; and it is an enduring regret to every admirer of liis honesty, integrity, and eloquence, that tin." house in which lie spent so many happy years no longer exists. It was burned down not very long alter his death, and only a few grass-covered mounds, the overgrown, half-obliterated avenue, and the scanty ruins of the stables, new mark the site of the home Burke loved so well. There was a good deal of high thinking at Gregories in the days when Fox, Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua, Goldsmith, and Garrick were wont to visit their friend at this "place exceeding pleasant," as the owner himself described it, to say naught of the famous visit of Mirabeau and Madame de Genlis. Few villages possess such classic memories as Beaconslield ; and lew, he it said, so well deserved to he the abode of the famous. Perched above the charming vales of Bucks, surrounded by the fragrant woodlands which unendingly delight more than one of the senses, the typical English scenery of Beaconsfield is full of that reposeful picturesqueness of which no lover of nature ever tires. Hughenden lies some seven miles from Beaconsfield. The outskirts of the parish are not very far from the market-place of High Wycombe ; hut it is a beautiful walk of about a couple of miles up to tin; church, her three-fourths of the distance from Wycombe the narrow road is bordered by the pales of Hughenden Park. We pass the principal entrance to the park, which is guarded by a very unpretending pair of iron elates, bearing Lord Beaconsfield's cypher, crest, and coronet. The highway is remarkably picturesque. The park pales are low; much of the road is high; and there is a good view of great part of the park. The line beeches and firs, which here and there obscure the prospect, pleasantly overhang the road; and the glimpses of the domain to he had through their leafy masses take the added charms of the partly-seen, Hughenden is, undoubtedly, one of the prettiest hits of park- like scenery in the home counties. From the tree-lined road the land slopes gently to a little brawling stream, reported to contain trout, which almost bisects the park. Beyond this stream the ground again rises to a. succession of irregular uplands, all, like tin.' flatter ground, richly and effectively tim- bered. Upon one of these wooded hills stands the monument erected l>v the Viscountess Beaconsfield to the memory of Isaac Disraeli, her husband's father. Lord Beaconslield delighted in the sylvan beauties of his domain; for, as he once most truly wrote, " sylvan scenery never palls." It has a, restful charm which most other scenery lacks; and to the wearied politician, few things in nature can lie more delightful. The park of Hughenden .Manor could not well contain more trees; neither could they fie more artistically grouped and studded. Hughenden Church stands within the park, at its furthest extremity. It is and Hughenden.] MEMORIALS OF A (i III) AT MAN. 187 of flint and stone, and is almost entirely modern, having Loon rebuilt in 1875. It is effectively placed upon the slope of the hill, ami is almost surrounded by trees. The very first object which strikes the eye of the visitor in the neatly- kept churchyard is the tomb of Lord BoaconsfioM. The three red granite panels which contain the inscriptions are built against the outer wall of the De Montfort Chapel at the eastern end of the church, closely adjoining the chancel. The effect is somewhat inelegant, and the low iron railing which sur- rounds the wreath-strewn space is most unornamental. The right-hand panel commemorates Mr. James Disraeli, third son of the author of "The Curiosities of Literature;" that to the left Mrs. Sarah Brydges Willyams, who left Lord Beaconsfield a fortune, "and was buried at her desire in this vault." Upon the central panel is inscribe;!: "In memory of Mary Anne Disraeli, Viscountess Beaconsfield in her own right, for thirtv-thrce years the wife of the Light Honourable Benjamin Disraeli, Lord of this Manor; ob. December, 1872." Beneath are the simple words, " The Right Honourable Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield and Viscount Hughenden, K.G., born December "21, 1805; died April 10, 1881." The only remnant of antiquity inside the church is the De Montfort Chapel, in which arc several recumbent effigies of members of that famous baronial house. The best preserved of these monuments represents Richard de Montfort encased in armour of the thirteenth century. Another figure bears upon its breast eight incised crosses. Here, too, is the tine fifteenth-century brass of Robert Thursby, Vicar of Hughenden. Over Lord Beaconsfield's accustomed seat in tin. 1 chancel, now marked by a brass plate with an inscription, is the beautiful tablet of Sicilian marble, erected by Queen Victoria, and represented on the next page. By the side of the memorial are fixed the banner and insignia, removed from St. George's Chapel, Windsor, of this " most noble and puissant Prince," as every Knight of the Garter is described upon his stall. The stained glass in the east window is the executors' tribute to Lord Beaconsfield's memory. The large west window was tilled with stained glass with part of the "National Memorial Fund;" and the south window Avas the offering of Oxford Under- graduates. The walls of the chancel arc covered with mural paintings of the Evangelists and the Greater Prophets, which were paid for out of the National Fund. The organ was parti)- rebuilt from the same source. There is probably not another church in England so full of memorials to one great man. Every- thing is in excellent taste; and the only objects that, were it not for the personal memories which attach to them now, and the matchless historical memories which will attach to them in time to come, one could wish away, are the trumpery- looking achievements of the Garter, which are too close to the ewe to retain any of the dignity that surrounded them in their original place at Windsor. 1S8 ABBEYS A AW CHURCHES. [IIlGTlENDEX. "fr'S Js^s There is a public road tln*ougb Hughenden Park to High Wycombe; but although it passes close to the Manor House, it is impossible to wee anything of it, so entirely is Lord Beaconsfield's house surrounded by trees. The path skirts the narrow stream, full of little cascades, and edged by shady beeches. All over the lovely park winding walks have been cut through the thick woodland, opening out here and there into little glades studded with the abounding beeches. After a. walk beneath tall pines you may debouch upon one of these glades of beech, adorning some of the most perfect glimpses of park-like scenery. Everywhere there are liills, around which picturesquely wind the walks laid out by Lady Beaconsfield. When he was in retirement at Hughenden, Lord Beaconsfield spent much of his time in wandering, silent and alone, in the more solitary portions of the park; and he left it as a strict injunction in his will that certain woods were never to hi' felled, and that only such timber was to he cut as was neces- sary and proper. Great numbers of the famous Windsor chairs of Wycombe are made from Hughenden timber. After the death of his wife, Lord Beaconsfield accounted it his chief happiness that, to use his own phrase, he "lived among his own woods." All contemplative men have loved wood- land scenery ; and the lord of Hughenden among his beeches inevitably recalls the picture of Burke enjoying, perhaps in more practical and demonstrative fashion, but assuredly not tin/ more keenly, the delights of his hide domain at Grregories. But while Burke loved to he a practical country gentleman, Lord Beaconsfield in his retirement never ceased to lie a. statesman and a man of letters. Most of his books were written in Hughenden Manor I louse, in such scant leisure as the absorbing and thankless trade of politics leaves to a man. Here, too, we have it in evidence that much statecraft was developed. Yet, with all his absorp- tion, Lord Beaconsfield ever had admiring eyes for his beloved trees ; and a quaint pleasure in the plaintive but romantic shriek of the famous peacocks. J. Pendeeel-Beodhurst. i 1 , ,THE DEAH JIKD HOKOtfKD MEMORY - J, ! jj I '■' or ' ;" REN&MM EflRl or BEflCONSFrEQ). ' *HTS HBKOIHjrL IS PUKED BY ■/ ', HIS GIUJT£FU1, SOVEREIGN AHf> FBJENB..-'" ,- •: ■ VICTORIA R.I ■■ :,*'', V, mixes love tiw wjrr erOaprU WCw" ! ■ ' ' {"""'''■- y.-. FEBRUARY IT- I39Z ■'" ■■ ,] hughenden: tiii-; beaconsfield taulj ELSTOW. A ST TJ It I) V P U It IT AN. TN the level valley of the Ouse, about a mile to the south of Bedford, is the -*- village of Elstow. Once it could claim a higher title, for it had a market of its own, hut this ceased long ago; and as the neighbouring county town has been roused by the railways from the quietude of a. merely agricultural centre, and is becoming the site of some important manufactures, the dignity is not likely to be regained. It is now " a quiet and rather large country village, standing among fields, and almost surrounded by line elms, which hide it from a distance, and make a kind of park of its meadows. 1 ' How did it come to pass that this place gave birth to a man who has made a mark in the history of English literature hardly less deep, if less broad, than Shakespeare himself? There is even less here than at Stratford-on-Avon of those accessories, and those natural features, which are generally supposed to evoke the poetic faculty. There is a certain beauty in the hedgerow timber, in the quiet lanes, in the lush meadows of this river plain, but it is of the quietest, sleepiest kind. The Ouse slides through Bedford town a mile or more away, as does the Avon through Stratford, though, in the former case, with far less beauty in its surroundings. No one would seek inspiration from that stream, or from the yet more sluggish brook that creeps through the Elstow fields. The valley of the Ouse is bordered by hills, even lower and less striking than those of Warwickshire. There is neither a Horeb nor a Wilderness; no rock}' fastness, such as those among which Benedict was stirred to spiritual conflict; no mountain solitudes such as those among which Bruno sought to initiate the Carthusian rule. Everything in this valley of the Ouse is of the most homely, everyday kind. There seems nothing to arouse violent emotions, every- thing to deaden them at their outset. One would suppose that all the dwellers in this region would be the most commonplace of folk ; neither great saints nor great 190 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Elstow. sinners; working, playing, eating, drinking, sleeping; doing all, except the last, to a moderate amount; in that, however, some little excess would lie probable; for when the sun is still high en a summer afternoon, when the air is redolent of the meadows, and the bees are humming among the brancheSj the eyes of those who can rest awhile from labour are apt to grow heavy. What could have produced this strange man, who lias caught the fancy, and spoken straight to the heart, of tens of thousands of his countrymen, who has made this Bedfordshire village a place of pilgrimage, and, though himself among the dissentient, adds an interest to its church '' It is as unaccountable as the birth of Shakespeare; neither external influences nor family history throw any light upon the mystery; both men seem to have been created rather than bom. Bunyan, however, after the flesh, was a tinker's son.* lie saw the light first in a homely cottage, which, though somewhat modernised, still remains, near where the road from Bedford enters Elstow. lie was brought up to this very humble craft, and "according to the rate of other poor men's children, but soon lost what little he had been taught, even almost utterly." No sign, so far as we know, was exhibited in his boyhood of the mental power which after- wards displayed itself, nor am' precocity, except that at an early age his conscience appears to have been unusually susceptible, ami his imagination vivid. lie tells us of himself that when he was ''but a child, only nine or ten years old, visions by night, and the stings of conscience by day," so distressed his soul, that, in his own words — " even in the midst of my many sports and childish vanities, I was often much cast down and afflicted in my mind therewith, yet could I not let go my sins; yea, I was also then so overcome witli despair of life and heaven, that I should often wish either that there had been no hell, or that I had been a devil, supposing they were only tormentors; that, if it must needs be that I were there, I might rather be a tormentor than tormented myself." As, however, is not seldom the case, this precocious sensitiveness of conscience was an unhealthy symptom, and was followed hv a hurtful reaction. The boy grew up not more thoughtful but more careless than his fellows; he was the worse, rather than the better, for a t iarly familiarity with spiritual dis- quietudes, and above all with the demonology of Christians, rather than with the gospel of Christ; he had succeeded in silencing for a time the inward monitor, and, though its suggestions had not always been of tin' wisest, he was the loser by the victory. The picture, however, which he draws of his life before the great mental struggle began is probably over-coloured. Bunyan saw all things with exceeding vividness, even his own sins. A man of more comprehensive views or less ascetic spirit could not have written the "Pilgrim's Progress." He * Ho was born in (tic year 1628; time, at tie death of Charles I., he would be about twenty-one, and at the Restoration thirty-two. Klstotv.] a spiritual crisis. 101 distinctly states, oven in his self-accusation, that lie was no drunkard, and had always lived a chaste lift — indeed, in the latter respect lie avoided temptation by marrying before he was twenty. Profaneness of speech appears to have been his chief sin of commission, for he tells us that he was a great swearer. In other respects than this, he was probably neither better nor worse than a score of other lads of his age, who have never thought seriously upon the "things which are unseen," and, in consequence, are little more than fine health)' animals, with capacities for good and for evil which commonly arc' only beginning to develop. Bunyan, however, was not wholly without checks in his career of thoughtlessness. More than once some narrow escape from death or serious accident awakened graver thoughts ; the most remarkable of these occurring at the siege of Leicester (for one episode in his early life was carrying a musket in the Parliamentary army). There a soldier, who had volunteered to take his place in a party detailed for some duty, was struck by a musket-ball in the head and killed on the spot. "A marked change in Bunyan's mental history began as he was playing a game of tip-cat on a Sunday, after having listened in the morning to a sermon against Sabbath-breaking. Such pastimes, it must lie remembered, were at that time thought by half the kingdom quite harmless on a, Sunday afternoon. In the middle of the game a voice seemed to sound in his ears, asking, 'Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?' ' At this, 5 he continued, 'I was put into an exceeding maze: wherefore, leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up to heaven, and was as if 1 had, with the eyes of my understanding, seen the Lord .Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me.' This was the beginning of the great spiritual struggle which has been the lot of most who have been called out from their fellows to undertake some exceptional work — a struggle which has been waged by men of very different creeds — which was as real for John Bunyan and Martin Luther as it was for Benedict of Subiaco and Francis of Assisi. It was a struggle where the reason is shaken, where the boundary between the real and the ideal becomes confused. For here, as in everything else in this world, it seems to lie the law of life that only through much suffering and individual loss can great results lie obtained. John Bunyan appears more than once to have been on the verge of insanity; more than once also on the point of abandoning the contest in despair; but at last, after a long struggle and various backslidings, the victory over himself was won. First of all he ceased to swear, next tip-cat on Sundays lost its temptation; then he abandoned even his favourite pastime of bell-ringing; and last and hardest of all, abstained from dancing. The order of the last two renunciations is certainly hard to understand. Dancing, indeed, might not un- naturally be regarded as at best a frivolous pastime, unbefitting the gravity of 102 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Elstow. one deeply conscious of the momentous issues of this life; but wherein con- sisted the sin of ringing a peal on the church bells is by no means easy to perceive."* From this epoch Bunyan's connection with Elstow was loosened. He left Bl'NYAX S COTTAGE. tin.' ministrations of Ins parish church, though, of course, at that period the pulpit was not occupied by an Anglican divine, and presently joined himself tn a Baptist congregation at Bedford. Afterwards he became a preacher, itinerating in the neighbouring villages, and appeal's t < > have become somewhat obnoxious to the ruling powers even before the Restoration. Then, how- ever, his troubles began in earnest. The Puritan had nut been over-tolerant of deviation from his own standard of orthodoxy, hut the Anglican came back with a. debt of suffering to requite and a determination to suppress dissent, if it were possible. The Puritan was hated by the Churchman as a recalcitrant from ecclesiastical discipline, by the statesman as a rebel against royal authority, by the courtier as a, righteous liver, so that he could nut find a. friend in any quarter. Bunyan was indicted as a person " who devilishly and perniciously abstained from coming to church to hour Divine service, and who was a common upholder of several unlawful meeting's and conventicles." Fur twelve years he was in prison at Bedford, though sometimes he was treated rather as a prisoner • "Our Own Country," Vol. II. Bedford. Elstow.] THE CHURCH BEFORE RESTORATION. 193 of war tlian as a criminal, and was even allowed out on parole. The " Declara- tion of Indulgence" in the year 107:3 procured him a pardon, and after this he appears to have escaped unmolested, though lie continued to write and to preach. During the years of his imprisonment the "Pilgrim's Progress" was written, and lie published altogether about three score tracts or books. Elstow Church, which is inseparably connected with the memory of Bunyan's earlier days, is itself a building of some size and considerable interest. Parallel with the wall of the churchyard is the village green, an ample tract of rough greensward, bordered by ancient houses. At the western end is the stump of an old stone cross; at the eastern a brick and timber house — the Market-hall in the davs when Elstow enjoyed so much dignity. On the edge of the church- yard are three broken trunks of great elm trees, still putting forth tufts of branches. All these must have existed when Bunyan was a lad. Many a time he must have loitered about the market-place; he may, perchance, have seen that cross broken down, if it had escaped the earlier reformers ; he may have scrambled up those elms, defiant of the beadle, for they would be young trees in his boy- hood. Little doubt this green by the churchyard wall was the place where he was playing his game of tip-cat on that Sunday afternoon when the call to repent- ance sounded in his ears, and that life began which he has narrated in his great alleg< >ry. The church also, till lately, had but little changed from the time when Bunyan, like the other people in the little town, went thither every Sunday. Here, probably, though from no Anglican clergyman, he listened to the serin against Sabbath-breaking. The following pas- sage, written by myself some years since, de- scribes the appearance of Elstow Church prior to the recent restoration : — " It stands on the further side of the churchyard. At the north-west angle is a massive tower, with windows in the upper storey, looking strong 1 enough to be used as a place of refuge against marauding bands. It is quite separated from the church, and is thus a regular ' campanile.' The bells date from the earlier part of the seventeenth century, and it is said that number four in the peal is the one which Bunyan used to ring. Parts of the church are Norman work ; most of this is very simple, except the north door, which is a rather richly ornamented specimen, and is in very fair preservation. Other parts are Early English, and the rest of later date, some being poor and untidy on ELSTOW : THE NORTH DOOR. 194 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Elstow. patchwork The three eastern bays retain the old Norman work, very plain, massive, round-headed arches separating- the nave from the aisles. The two bays further west are simple Earl)' English. The church has evidently once been longer towards the east. A part of the chancel screen and some of the old seats yet remain. The first on the left hand of the north entrance is pointed out as the one formerly occupied by Bunyan. As 'absenting himself from church' was one of his offences during the greater part of his life, it is possible that this tradition may not be strictly accurate; but if this is not Bunyan's pew, there is at any rate no reason why he may not have sat there." In the south aisle of the church are two brasses with female figures, said to be the memorials of the last two abbesses of a nunnery which adjoined the church. In the chancel is a monument to a Mr. Radcliff, who was among the occupants of the mansion which was built on the site of this nunnery. In the north-east corner of the church is the tomb of a Mr. Crompton, a. magistrate, before whom Bunyan was brought up on a warrant, and who, in effect, committed him to prison by refusing to accept hail for his appearance. Since this passage was written, a restoration lias taken place which has net respected the above-named pew. Many repairs, what the fabric greatly needed, have been made; the whitewash and plaster have keen cleared from the walls, and the stonework exposed; stained-glass windows, commemorative of tin; "Pilgrim's Progress" and the "Holy War,'' have been inserted at the east end of the aisles, and an aspect of general dilapidation lias given place to one more befitting a church of such interest. The nunnery stood on the south side of the church, adjoining the grave- yard. It was founded by Juditha, a. niece of William the Conqueror, and the oldest part of the church is probably of the same date. Its annals appear to have keen uneventful, although the neighbouring town of Bedford, so long as its castle was standing, was by no means a very peaceful place. Of the nunnery very little now remains. The most important fragment is a square chamber with a rather low vaulted roof, which is supported by a central pillar of dark marble. Tins, which is said to have keen the chapter-house, is still in good preservation. A portion, however, of the mansion which succeeded the nunnery, and which, no doubt, was constructed from its materials and included some of its buddings, still remains. This is a, ruined facade, with square mullioned windows and an Elizabethan porch, now almost buried in ivy. Here, in Bunyan's time, the Squire of Elstow no doubt lived; and there would he trim lawns and gardens where now the weeds are growing wild. The great allegorist is not buried in the adjoining churchyard. ( >n a journey from Read- ing to London he got a chill ; this turned to a fever, which in a few days proved fatal, and he was laid in Bunhill Fields, " the Campo Santo of the Nonconformists." r p q RoNNFY ST. NICHOLAS, YARMOUTH: THE EXTEK.IOK. Y A R M U T H AND HULL GREAT PARIS] [ CHURCHES. TT7HEN Cerdic the Saxon, according to Matthew of Westminster and others, ' " landed on the sands at the mouths of the group of East-country streams which now discharge themselves into the German Ocean at Great Yarmouth, he appears to have slighted the claims of the place to be regarded as an agreeable marine residence, and transferred himself and company into Wessex. Probably a few huts for fishers and fowlers constituted for many years after that event (near the close of the fifth century) the nameless village on the spot. But as time passed on, and fishing prospered, there arose on a "green hill" — most likely what is now called Fuller's Hill — a small church dedicated to St. Benedict. It is mentioned in Domesday Book as possessed by Ailmarus, Bishop (of Elmham) in the time of Edward the Confessor, and contemporaneously with the compila- tion of the survey by William (de Beaufeu), the Bishop of Thetford. After- wards the well-known Herbert de Losinga, whose simony is feared by his most recent biographers* to be "too well attested to he groundless," succeeded to the see. Among the fruits of his penitence arc Norwich Cathedral, and, according to general belief, the church of St. Nicholas in Great Yarmouth. The latter * Dean Goulburn and Mr. Symouils. 1 9(3 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Yarmouth was sufficiently advanced to be mentioned, "with all things that belong to the same/' as granted by him to the Benedictine monks of the former in the Charter 6T. NICHOLAS , YARMOUTH: THE IN'TliKIOlt. of the Foundation of Norwich Cathedral, signed and sealed September 24th, 1101. It was a simple cross church, with transepts but no aisles, though perhaps with apsidal chapels opening eastward from the transepts, as at Norwich Cathedral and Thetford Priory. All that now remains of it is the portion of the central tower between the bell-chamber and the tower arches. 'The material consists of beach boulders, pieces of stone, and tufa or trass of the Rhine, from the vicinity of Andernach, probably brought to Yarmouth as ballast. After the lapse of about seventy years, the nave walls were lengthened, and pierced for th< present arcade of seven arches, to which lean-to aisles were raided, while the tower was elevated to about its present height. That the builders of that day consulted "appearances" is clear from the ashlar facings of the sides of the tower seen from the town, as contrasted with the rough work on the north and east. Some thirty years more pass away, and the narrow lean-to aisles disappear, and are replaced by the present ones, of the unusual width of 39 feet. Mr. Seddon, and Hull.] BACHELORS' AISLE." 197 the architect employed in the restoration of the south aisle, sees great resem- blance between the west front of Yarmouth south aisle and that of Llandaff Cathedral ; others have noticed the correspondence of Scottish work of the same period. Then in duo course came the lengthening of the chancel and other exten- sions, completing, in the main, the present building, which covers more ground than any other parish church in England, its internal area being 23,085 feet — a. clear thousand feet in excess of St. Michael's, Coventry, which stands next in this respect, and of which some account is given in another article/ 1 ' Large as the area is, it was intended to lie larger. The prosperity of the town encouraged its bachelor sons to begin, in 1330, a. new work, to lie called, after their state, the "Bachelors' Aisle." While it was in progress came the fearful scourge called the " Black Death," which so reduced the population of Norfolk that, in the opinion of eminent statisticians, it has not yet recovered itself. The excavations made by the late Mr. Morant, Town Surveyor, in 1860, showed that a new gi'and west front had been designed, with two towers and a doorway -10 feet wide. The unfinished work fell into decay, and was removed piecemeal for various purposes, some of it supplying foundations for the pillars in St. George's Chapel at Windsor, which foundations were seen when that building was repaired in 1883. The old spire, 186 feet high, being afflicted with spinal curvature, arising from its ignitiou by lightning in 1683, was removed in 1803, and after a lapse of four years the present non-tapering structure took its place. Decay set in also at the cast end, which was shortened 111 feet in 1784. The work of restoration, started in 1845, under the incumbency of tin.' late Bishop Mackenzie, has been continued vigorously by his successors — Bishop Hills, Archdeacon Nevill, and Canon Venables ; but it has not yet reached completion. When the town walls were erected, they formed the boundary to the old churchyard — which contains, with the church, about eight acres — on the north and east. About thirty years ago a cemetery of ten acres was added. Since that time another and larger space has been required. The view of the church from the north-east is perhaps the most striking, for here the three eastern gables, together with that of the north transept, are seen to the best advantage. * See ante, p. SO. ST. NICHOLAS', YARMOUTH : THE SARAH MARTIN WINDOW. 108 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Yarmouth In the old churchyard many a miracle play, mystery play, and interlude lias no doubt been acted and many a church ale held. Nor did these perform- ances end at the Reformation, though by degrees they passed away from the churchyard to some other open space. All the towns used to vie with one another mi these occasions, but the rivalry was quite friendly, stage "properties" being lent about most freely. Thus in 1567 Bungay borrowed of Norwich the " app'ell (apparel) of my lord of Surrey" to he worn by the lord of the feast; and in 1058 the same town lent Yarmouth the "game gere," comprising all things necessary for these simple Thespian performances. The first trace, by the way, of theatrical representation in England is a note by Matthew Paris of a miracle play of St. Catherine. Entering through the south porch, built from a totally indescribable design (inonstrum horrendum, etc.), we pass into the church, and find ourselves provided with handbooks turning us into a gentle stream flowing west, then north, then east, and so west again, till we have completed what is really a small journey, and find ourselves again at our starting-point. The west window of the south aisle has already been mentioned, hut it will he seen to most advantage from within. The plain elegance of the nave west window will speak for itself, belong- ing, as it does, to the Early English work, with dog-tooth ornament; and the north aisle has a peculiar interest in containing a small stained-glass window to the memory of that saintly woman, Sarah Martin, the sempstress of Caister, who by her self-denying labours in Yarmouth Gaol has " built herself an everlast- ing name." In the north transept and north chancel-aisle are two pieces of mural painting, the former of which was with great care transferred from the south transept in a wooden frame when it was discovered cm removing the plaster. Two scenes, depicted with rude force, remain --the Crucifixion and the Appearance of our Lord to St. Mary Magdalene in the Garden. The mural painting in the north chancel-aisle remains in situ behind part of the organ. It represents a group of knights in chain-mail approaching a church. One of them wears the tilting helmet over his coif-de-mailles, and in his right hand is a sword with the hilt uppermost. If a conjecture may he hazarded as to the subject, it may lie one of the nobles of King Edward [. going to deposit his sword at Carlisle or Durham Cathedral after the victory over the Scotch at Falkirk in 1208. Before we pass from the fabric, the bosses of the waggon-roof in the south aisle deserve special mention. Of what may be called church furniture, the organ, hells, font, and pulpit must not he passed over. The instrument first named, of which we tret the earliest notice in 1465 as "Our Lady's organ," is now one of the wonders of East Anglia. The Long Parliament, in 1644, forbad the use of organs in churches, and no note from the " kist o' whustles" sounded in Yarmouth and Hull.] RESEMBLANCE AND CONTRAST. 199 Church from that time to 1733, when Jordan, Byfield and Bridge erected that which forms the nucleus of the present magnificent instrument. This, being a "divided organ," merits in the letter the designation of a "payre of organs." The old ease, surmounted by an ange] blowing a. trumpet, out of which, accord- ing to local tradition, the loudest sounds proceeded, contains the great organ and pedal pipes, in the north chancel-aisle. In the south chancel-aisle are the choir organ and swell, enclosed in the old case from >St. Peter Mancroft, Nor- wich, and presided over by a figure of St. Nicholas, ingeniously converted from that of St. Peter. The organist sits in the midst of his choir, far removed from either "chest of whistles." The tine ring of ten bells was east by Thomas Mears and Son, of Whitechapel, in 1807. The tenor, of magnificent tone, in D, with a diameter of 58 inches, weighs 31 cwt. The font is of Purbeck marble, possibly of the Norman period. In Kill the Corporation ordered its removal, as being "out of use, 1 ' but some good Churchman managed to preserve it for happier times. It was thoroughly painted in the pigmental days of the earlier Georges, hut has now been restored. The pulpit is a great platform, enclosed with a richly-carved front, back, and sides, and standing on a base of the same design. Daughters sometimes outgrow their mothers in stature, ami this is notably the case with both the old churches in the town of Kingston-on-Hull, which were originally chapels to other churches. St. Mary's was a chapel to North Ferriby ; Holy Trinity, the subject of these remarks, to Hessle. The union between Hesslc and Holy Trinity, however, outlasted by at least two centuries that between the other two, and its dissolution was effected only at the Restoration. Comparing this church with that at Great Yarmouth, we find that each possesses the complete scheme of aisles, chancel-aisles, and transepts, with a central tower. But here the points of resemblance cease; and whereas Yarmouth claims the wider interest from greater variety of work and style, Hull has the advan- tage of a more symmetrical construction. In point of internal superficial area, Yarmouth is the foremost in England, as we have said in treating of that church. The ground covered by Holy Trinity, Hull, is 20,036 square feet, or 3,049 less than the Yarmouth floor. The difference between these grand floor-spaces would, in itself, make quite a respectable area for an ordinary church. Many a struggling church-builder in a populous district would he rejoiced at finding himself aide to place a building 75 feet by 40 in the midst id' his people. The total length of the Hull church is '372 feet, against 230 at Yarmouth. Thus, even externally, and still more internally, a grand effect is produced, the majesty of size approving itself to the eye more in the case of a. full length and proportional breadth, than in that of the comparatively short nave and exceptionally wide aisles at Yarmouth. 200 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Yarmouth Beainnino' at the cast end, we find ourselves confronted with the earlier work. The chancel, 70 feet wide, only two feet less in width than the nave, k lloI.Y TRIXITY, HULL: THE WEST FllOST. dates from 1285, and is a notable example of construction in brick. It is a vexed question whether the art of brick-making survived the departure of the Romans from England at the beginning of the fifth century. Certainly the greater part id the work in which brick is found earlier than the date given above is constructed from the wreck of Roman work in the vicinity. A well- known instance is that of St. Alban's Abbey, which Matthew Paris speaks of as constructed with the stones and tiles of the ancient city of Yorulamium, ex lapidibus et tegulis veteris anl/tli* Verulamii. But, even in this instance, there is room for belief that some of the bricks may have been baked for the occasion, and the frequent occurrence of stray clean bricks in the eastern counties in earlier work", far removed from Roman stations or camps, fosters the theory that the art had never been forgotten, but rather revived, time alter time, as necessity developed skill in this respect, in the case of Hull we have certainly the neighbouring Roman station of Beverley; yet the character of the work and Hull.] THE EARLY UHE OF BRICK. 201 suggests no such indebtedness, hut perhaps rather a stimulus given to brickwork by some Yorkshire trader who had seen the great use made of this material along the shores of the Baltic and in Scandinavia. Now the first recorded mention of Hull as a port seems to be in 1198, when it was evi- dently of some standing in this respect, and was allowed to be a place of export for wool, then rising into the position of highest im- portance among the articles of produce in England. During such a time of commercial activity in Hull, nothing would be more natural than for a trader in the Baltic to observe the abundant use made of brick in the places visited by him, and to stimulate the production and use of the material at home. However, the usual faults in brick construction as observed abroad are not noticeable in Hull. A strong love for art is discernible in the work of the chancel, and more especially in the noble east window, in every respect worthy of the church in which it is so prominent an object. The tracery is of that character, at once free and systematic, which distinguishes the Augustan period of Pointed architecture. Yet, in spite of the mingled grace and strength of the curves in this window, the weakness of the Decorated mullions tells its story as we observe the transom connecting them — a feature of the later work, in the Perpendicular style. This is also the style of the nave; and though the material is stone instead of brick, the inferi- ority of conception is obvious. If William of Wykeham was the father of the Perpendicular style, he has much to answer for. Stonemasons might rejoice in having straighter runs for their work, but the taste of generation after genera- tion has suffered from the contemplation of windows of the "gridiron" pattern, with upper spaces resembling pickle-bottles in a row. The nave and aisles of Holy Trinity appear to be neither better nor worse than most other specimens A A HOLY TRINITY, HULL I ARCADE AND SCREEN. 202 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Hull. f the last of the Pointed styles. The general effect is impressive, especially in the interior, where the worshipper is unconsciously elevated by the decorous arcade and clerestory; but it is to general effect, and not to originality in detail, that Perpendicular churches owe such credit as they have. In the south transept is the entrance to a chantry built, in or about 1395, by "William Scrope, Karl of Wiltshire, who was beheaded by Henry IV. at Bristol in the first year of that usurper's reign. His brother Richard, Archbishop of York, suffered a like penalty six years afterwards, on " Whitsun Monday," 1405, for his share in the ineffectual rising at " Yorkeswold." The Bend Or of the Scropes is well known in many parts of the country, but the three leopards' heads of the De la Poles, another ill-starred family, originating from William de la Pole, a rich Hull merchant of the time of Edward III., are rather divided between Hull and Suffolk. Michael de la Pole, the merchant's son, who founded " Grod's house " in Hull in 1384, married Catharine Wingfield, a Suffolk heiress, and became first of a new race of Earls of Suffolk in the following year. But we must turn from old Yorkshire families to later matters. This spacious church lias been restored under the late Sir Gilbert Scott at a cost of about £33,000, and is now in all its appointments in a condition worthy of its architectural and historic merits. The restoration has been conservative of such work as admitted of conservation. The glass in the east window dates from the year 1834. The mixture of subjects, Our Lord and His Apostles above, and Reynolds's Cardinal Virtues below, is not quite in accordance with our tastes; but even some of the work of the last quarter of the nineteenth century does not quite defy criticism. The ingenious entrance to the old pulpit, through a staircase within one of the piers of the central tower, is still marked l>v an oak door; and the bait, of that now almost disused material, Purbeck marble, hearing the figure of a huntsman, as old, probably, as anything in the church, is in use, despite the changes which have passed over its surroundings. j j j> V ven ABBEY DORE, KILPECK, AND HEYSHAM. SOME QUAINT CHURCHES. AMONG the move exceptional churches of England, both for .situation and -£*- for design, that of Abbey Dore may fairly be reckoned. The former part of its double name indicates its monastic origin; the latter its situation by the Dore, a Herefordshire river. Once it belonged to a Cistercian monastery. This Order loved solitary places, so that the ruins of its abbeys, even at the present day, are often comparatively lonely. They were founded at first far from the abode of man, far even from other religious houses. Such were fountains in the glen of the Shell, Furness, nestling among its sandstone crags, and Tintern by the winding Wye. Such, too, was this church in the Golden Valley. But lonely as the abbeys were, the)' were often grand enough, for the Cistercians were a popular Order, and even if the severity of their rule was sometimes expressed in their archi- tecture, the simplicity was always stately. The Order was Hrst planted at and obtained its name from Cisteaux in Burgundy, where a Benedictine, one Robert, Abbot of Molesme, formed a society of straiter rule, about the end of the eleventh century. Its members devoted themselves especially to the honour of the Virgin Mary, to whom all their monasteries were dedicated. The valley of the Dore, or the Golden Valley, as it is usually called, must have been an ideal retreat for the Order. "It lies wholly in what may be called the sub-alpine district of the Welsh border, where the undulations as yet rarely rise into prominent and well defined hills The scenery .... is worthy of the name it bears The skyline is usually rather level, the valley being excavated out of a plateau; the bounding hills, especially on the left bank, are commonly capped with woods. The slopes are often rather rapid, richly cultivated, varied by abundant hedgerow timber and scattered copses, and as there is more arable than grass-land, there are many changes in the dominant tints of the scenery, from the warm red of the bare soil in winter to the rich gold of the ripened corn in the late summer. On the right bank many glimpses are caught of the long terrace-like line of the Black Mountains, whose dark bare sides contrast markedly with the cheerful richness of the nearer valley. Glancing backward the scene is more varied; the ridges of Graig and Garway Hills and the undulating Saddle-bow bound the view."' The neighbourhood should be as healthy as it is beautiful, for it is said that one Serjeant Iloskyns — whose monument remains in the church -- entertained his Majesty dames 1., on occasion of a visit to these *"Our Own Country," Vol. IV., p. 212. 204 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Abbey Dure. parts, with a grotesque dance performed by ten old men, whose united ages amounted to a thousand years. The G-olden Valley deserves its title for its real beauty, but the name was obtained from a misconception. The river Dure rolls down no "golden sands," ABBEY DD1LE: Till'; TOWER AMI SOUTH TRANSEPT. and its name lias no connection with the Latin or French words for that epithet. It lias a more remote ancestry than Roman or Norman. It goes back, like several other rivers, to the Celtic word Dior, which signifies water. In not the least beautiful part of this valley the Cistercians began to build their church towards the middle of the twelfth century.* Doubtless it was lonely enough then, but a village has subsequently sprung up around its ruins. Little is left of the conventual buildings. * Cistercians were placed here by Robert of Ewias in tlie reign of Stephen, but the building was not completed till the time of Henry III. Abbey Doue.] Till! EASTERN END. 205 Cabbage gardens now cover "A passage with a broken barred vault abutting on the transept wall indicates a 'slype.' Some fragments north of it probably were part of the chapter-house, and high up on the above-mentioned wall may be seen the marks of two roofs, which no doubt belonged to the ancient dormitory ; a ruined gable close, to the church- yard indicates the western limit of the monastery. the spot where generations of monks lived and died, but an old yew-tree in the graveyard probably saw the abbey of the Golden Valley in all its perfection." The church has been sadly curtailed of its original proportions. The nave is worse than a ruin ; one end of the northern and a single column of the southern aisle alone remain. Transepts, choir, and Lady Chapel, however, are still fairly perfect, and make up the present church. For the preservation of this we are indebted to John, Lord Scudamore, on whose property it stood. By his time, in the year 16.'J4, the vaulted roof had fallen in and the build- ing had become a ruin ; but through his liberality it was "roofed, restored to sacred uses, endowed liberally." The pews are of this date, and are good specimens of Jacobean work of a simple kind. It is to be hoped that the profane hand of the "mediaeval restorer" will be withheld from them. Of the same date also is a really handsome oak screen, which stands in the place of the ancient rood-loft. Worth notice, too, is the western gallery, supported on columns. The most striking and the most peculiar feature of the church is undoubtedly its eastern end. This is square, and the upper part is pierced by a triplet of lancet- windows. Beneath are three pointed arches opening into an eastern ambulatory, a continuation of the choir aisles ; beyond which comes a row of chapels, one corresponding with each of the side aisles and three with, the central part. Here, A1IHEY BORE: THE I'll' 206 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Kilpeck. fortunately, the original vaulting remains. The effect of this arrangement is sin- gularly good. Above, we have the simple grace of the lancet triplet; below, the varied grouping of clustered columns and moulded arches, suggestive of extension and of mystery. Still, we can hardly rise to so high a pitch of enthusiasm as Mr. Gilbert Scott, who quoted the church of Abbey Dore as showing how superior to the apsidal the square ending can be made. The position also of the tower, at the eastern angle of the south transept, is rather exceptional. It is a plain, massive structure ; indeed, this is the general characteristic of the architecture everywhere but at the eastern end. Much of the Norman solidity remains to modify the Early English style, and the work is often rough and homely. The church still contains several monuments, though the older ones are much broken. The most (.anions is a tablet, on which is sculptured in high relief' a small figure of a bishop. Popular report makes it the tomb of a boy bishop, but this is more than doubtful ; one authority of weight suggests that " the stone indicates tin/ burial-place of the heart of Bishop John Breton of Hereford, who died in the thirteenth century." Some old stained glass still remains in the eastern windows, but the most curious relic is the altar. Tins is a huge stone slab, supported by three massive clustered columns. It is said, and there seems no reason to doubt the statement, that the former was part of the ancient high altar. After the abbey had become a rum, the slab was removed to a neighbouring farm-house and was made useful in the dairy, whence it was recovered and restored to the church. Probably the present is not quite the original position, and tin; supports appear to be the capitals of columns which have been found among the ruins and applied to their present purpose. The little village of Kilpeck, at the opening of the Golden Valley, possesses a church even more singular than that of Abbey I 'ore. [t would be difficult to find another so small in size, and yet so elaborate in design, considering the style of architecture. Kilpeck Church stands quite away from any busy centre of life, on a low hill some little distance from the railway station of St. Devcroux, with only a small and scattered hamlet attached. But in olden time it appears to have been a place of great consideration, though probably the parish never was a populous one. In an adjoining field are the ruins of a, castle, but these are comparative!)' unimportant. A little of the keep, a good part of the moat, and some small fragments of walls are all that now remains. By one of the lords of this castle Kilpeck Church was no doubt built — prob- ably about, or rather before, the middle- of the twelfth century — but of its history we know little for certain. If must have been reared by some lord or priest who was an admirer of architecture, and was determined to erect in this quiet district of Herefordshire what guide hooks would now describe as ll a little gem of a chapel." Kilpeck.] "SERMONS TN STONES." 207 This church must then have remained almost unnoticed and unaltered, protected probably by the remoteness of the place, which kept away ambitious priests, and by the smallness of the population, which meant no money for "improving" the church ; thus escaping almost entirely those changes which in more populous or wealthy places have generally befallen structures of Norman dale. It was practically discovered when, in the present century, men began to wake up to a sense of the treasures of old time which still remain in the land, and then of course the restorer came. We are informed that his work was done with the utmost care, every stone, as it was removed, being numbered, and as little recarving done as possible. Nevertheless, Kilpeck Church, in its present conditio]], presents the appearance of a too much restored building, and from what may be seen at Here- ford, it is evident that (Nottingham in work of this kind was often more zealous than wise. Fortunately an illustrated memoir exists, containing a series of careful drawings, which show Kilpeck in its unrestored state. The author — a Mr. Lewis — is enthusiastic on the subject, and rinds a symbolical meaning in many parts of the plan and ornamentation. It is possible that lie may attract some disciples, but a sceptical world is more likely to smile, and say that on such principles of interpretation even a broomstick would be found rich in symbolic lessons. The church is a very small one, and yet it consists of three distinct parts. There is a nave, a choir or chancel, and beyond this an apse, winch is so far distinct that it might set up a claim to be regarded as the proper chancel. A richly sculptured doorway, on the tympanum of which is some foliated ornamentation, regarded by the above author as a representation of the tree of life, which it will do for as well as for anything else, gives admission to the nave on its south side. From the nave another doorway, with richly carved mouldings, and the shafts of its side columns sculptured into figures, leads into the plain square chancel, at the east end of which a third Norman arch, but in this case quite plain, opens into the apse. This is lighted by three windows, and has a vaulted roof. Another peculiarity of the building is the fewness of the windows. One or two have been subsequently added, but the original church must have been very dark. The side walls of the square chancel are not pierced at all, and originally, if we remember aright, there were only three windows in the nave. An old and rather rudely designed font is probably as old as the church. Outside, the walls of the building are relieved by pilasters, and a corbel-table is carried round it, ornamented by various sculptured figures of more or less singular design. These also have been duly elucidated by the ingenious author already mentioned. Heysham Church and precincts are alike notable in the instance which remains to be described. From the level shore of Morecambe Bay a rocky mass juts up, against which nestles the little village of Heysham, sheltering itself from the 103 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Heysham. wild sea- winds. Above the houses |r m .stands the quaint little church ; beyond li&'i A the present limit of the churchyard, on the bare summit of the crag overhang- ing the sands, are the ruins of a yet smaller chapel, and some graves hewn in the red sandstone rock. The oldest part of the church is the chancel arch, semicircular, with only a square abacus in place of a I capital, and an angular line-ornament — possibly anterior to the Norman Con- quest. The work throughout is rude; one or two windows appear to be Late Decorated, rather in the flam- boyant style, others are still less ancient. The sepulchral memo- rials outside are even more in- teresting; chief among' them is a low stone rudely sculptured with grotesque figures of men and animals — stags, dogs, etc. — seem- ingly a hunting scene — a me- morial, it may be, of some Nim- rod who took his pleasure in the Lancashire woodlands before the Norman came. There are also stone coffins, whole or broken, one bearing on its lid a harp, a sword, and an incised cross, and there is an old inscription. The ruined chapel on the wind-swept headland is probably older than even any part of the existing church. It reminds us of those cells — for they are little more — which are still dotted about the shores of Britain, especially in the north, such, for instance, as that at Peel Castle in the Isle of Man. Tins one is about eight yards long, and less than three wide. The eastern wall, with parts of that on the north and south, remain; it is built of rubble, and cased within and without by rude ashlar; there is no sign of an east window, but on the south side are a rude round-headed doorway and the .splay of a. window. 8ix of the graves are hewn in the furthest angle of the rock, where it is Heysham.] ROCK-GUT GRAVES. 20!) limited on cither side l>v a little cliff. They lie side by side, but the beads are not placed along in line. The first, counting from the left, is square-headed ; the next three have shouldered tops; the fifth and sixth are rounded. At the heads of all but the fifth are squared holes, as though to support a cross or a memorial pillar. Three other graves, similarly hewn, may be seen, two near the church- yard wall — one of these evidently for an infant —and another one to the north-east. HEYSHAM. There are now no remains of coverings, but in some the ledges on which lids have rested may still be seen. Nothing is known of the history of these curious places of sepulture. Hock-cut graves are common enough in some countries, but as a rule they are either connected with sepulchral chambers or are much more deeply sunk into the rock; these are practically stone coffins, of which the lower part has not been detached from the parent rock. I know of no other instance of such places of sepulture in England; a few exist in France, of which far the most remarkable is in Provence, at the foot of the lull crowned l>y the Abbey of Montmajeur. Here the limestone rock about a curious cruciform chapel, dating from the beginning of the eleventh century, is hewn into graves ; there must be hundreds of them, made for children and for adults, and they are huddled together without order so closely that the rock is literally honeycombed with them — a cemetery no less strangely interesting than the famous one in the neigh- bouring town of Aries. r p Q_ Bonney. B B S T. A N D R E W'S, H L B R N . A OHUEOH OF GREAT PREACHERS. THE date of the foundation of the original church of St. Andrew is not known, but from a very early period this sacred building must have stood near the rapid .stream or bourne from which Holborn (or Old Bourne) took its name — a .stream which, rising near the place where Holborn Bars afterwards stood, and running down to the spot where once was a bridge, was joined by other water- courses from springs at Clerkenwell, Finsbury, and elsewhere, and so went brawling on to the Fleet, which carried the united streams across the foot of Ludgate Hill, past Bridewell, into the Thames. Although there are several interesting memorial tablets in St. Andrew's, it is as usual tu the registers that we must go to find the mosl interesting associations of the church. One entry which of late years has become noteworthy is that of the baptism of Benjamin Disraeli in 1817. At that time the future Prime Minister was twelve years of age, and his Father, Isaac Disraeli, lived in King's Road, near the British Museum. The names of the brothers of the late Premier, Ralph and -James Disraeli, also appear in the register of baptisms at the same date. St. Andrew's, it has been said, max- almost lie called the poet's church, as so many men of poetic genius have been in some way associated with it from the time of Webster, the author of "The White Devil" and "The Duchess of Malfy." Webster was parish clerk, so his connection with the locality was dis- tinctive. Among the most interesting records in the books is the marriage (in 1598) of Edward Coke, "the Queen's Attorney-General," and "my Lady Eliza- beth Hatton," also that (in 1G-JSt. Andrew's, Holborn, and of Chcam in Surrey. In 1 Gd'J he was prebend and residentiary in St. Paul's. Placket took an active part against the Puritans in the Civil War, and, having retired to his living at Cheam, was made prisoner by the arm)' of Essex; but he was soon liberated, and, remaining at Cheam till the Restoration, recovered all Ids preferments, being raised to the bishopric of Lichfield and Coventry in 1661. At a cost of £20,000, the greater part of which he himself contributed, he restored Lichfield Cathedral, which had been very much damaged by the cannon of the Puritans; and he also e-ave considerable sums to his college and to several public institutions. Opinions differ about his literary style, but about his erudition, faithful friendship, wit, and character, there seems to have been little dispute. His motto, we are told by one biographer, was, "Serve Cod and he chearfull." Nor can there be much doubt of his firmness and courage, for one Sunday, while he was reading the prayers in St. Andrew's, a soldier of the Earl of Essex entered the church, held a pistol to his heart, and commanded him to read no further. Not at all terrified, Placket said lie would do what became a. divine, and his assailant might do what became a soldier. The man then permitted hnn to continue the service. Edward Stillingfleet, the learned opponent alike id' Popery and of Noncon- formity, was one. of the great preachers as he was one of the most able and energetic writers and profound scholars of his day. lie was a native of Cran- bourne in Dorsetshire, "was born in 1635, and became a. prominent figure in the troublous times of James II. lie was made a. Fellow of St. John's College, 21(5 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [St. Andrew's Cambridge, at the age of eighteen, and in 1657 was presented to the rectory of Sutton by his friend Sir Roger Burgoyne, to whom in 1662 he dedicated his great work, " Origines Sacras; or, a Rational Account of the Grounds of Natural THE INTERIOR. and Revealed Religion," a kind of commentary on the text of a work of a similar character by Grotius. It would be of little value to enumerate the multitude of tracts, sermons, essays, and letters which were written by Stilling- fleet from the time of the appearance of this hook and during his constantly increasing duties as rector of St. Andrew's and Lecturer of the Temple, to which offices he was appointed in 1665. Other preferment came to him, and in 1689, ten years before his death, he was made Bishop of Worcester. His position was that of a, moderate Churchman; but be was a vigorous opponent of Romanism, and wrote also in opposition to the Nonconformists on "The Unreasonableness of Separation from the Church of England," which brought upon him the retorts of Owen, Baxter, Alsop, and others. Holbohn.] A PRACTICAL JOKE. 217 At St. Andrew's, Stillingfleet was followed after an interval by Dr. Sache- verell, of whom it is a contested point whether he was most famous or notorious. At all events, there is no need here to recount the political history of the sermons which he preached at Derby, and afterwards at St. Paul's before the Lord Mayor in 1700, attacking the Whig Government and proclaiming the doctrine of passive obedience to the Sovereign. He was tried by impeachment, became a popular favourite with a loyal mob, who shouted for the Queen and Doctor Sacheverell, and was hooted by a mob less loyal, who were for the Ministry and freedom of opinion. The trial ended in his being' suspended from his clerical office for three years, and being rewarded by Queen Anne with the presentation to the living of St. Andrew's directly the term of his sentence had expired. It was to Sacheverell that Addison addressed his " Farewell to the Muses." With reference to Sacheverell's opposition to the Nonconformists, it is recorded that William Whiston, the noted mathematician, who was an Arian, and is now chiefly known as the translator of Josephus, was a constant attendant at St. Andrew's, and Sacheverell, discovering his opinions, admon- ished him that he should not take the Communion, and, as he persisted, had him excluded from the church. Whiston wrote and published a complaint, and then removed to another parish, where it was said he conducted the worship of a congregation in his own house. Following Sacheverell were the family of the Bartons — Dr. Jeffery Barton, Dr. Cutts Barton, and the Rev. Charles Barton, who was presented in 1781, and who, having been curate for a good many years when the previous rector died, ventured to wait on the Dowager Duchess of Buccleuch, into whose hands the presentation had fallen, to ask for tin.' living. His disappointment may be imagined when her Grace received him with the abrupt reply, " You have come soon, and yet too late; for having made up my mind a dozen years ago as to whom I would give St. Andrew's, I have sent my servant with the presenta- tion." There was nothing for it but that the disconsolate curate should make his how and retire with the best grace that he could summon to his aid; hut when he reached home his consternation was changed into delight, for it was to himself that the servant had been sent. "Ah! her Grace loves a joke," said he, as he put on his hat again that lie might run back and thank his benefactress; and an excellent example of a practical joke it was. It would scarcely be becoming to speak of the recent or immediate occu- pants of the famous pulpit of St. Andrew's; but it may perhaps be permissible to say that from it may still be heard addresses which, by liberal views, searching appeal, effective elocpaence, and scholarly attainments, well sustain its great reputation. Thomas Archer. c c WALTHAM ABBEY AND BATTLE CHURCH. MEMORIES OF HAROLD. WALTHAM CROSS. ^jffUTILATED as it is, a fragment only, and that a damaged one, of a once splendid conventual church, the Abbey of Waltham is one of the most interesting' buildings in Britain. It was a church wherein was lodged the Holy Rood, a worker of miracles in its day hardly less famed than the coat of Treves or the "true cross" of Jeru- salem. It was the one great gift of Harold to the Church, and even this was a foundation for secular priests, for "lie loved not monks." It is believed to lie his building. That Waltham Abbey was practically founded by Harold is beyond dispute; that he built the church which now remains, or that it was his place of burial, is less certain. A religious community, but on a very small scale, had indeed been established in the valley of the Lea at a vet earlier date than the days of Harold. The Holy Rood was discovered at Montacute in the reign of Canute. Its hiding- place was revealed by a vision, and it was brought to Waltham by a team of oxen, as legend says, unguided by any driver. Miracle followed miracle ; and the lord of the district, one Thoni, made a foundation at Waltham for two priests and other clerks, to keep the sacred charge. In his sons' days the lordship of Waltham was acquired by the Crown, and granted to Harold. He determined to build a grand church, and to transform the little fraternity of the Holy Rood into a great foundation, and carried out his design about the year 1060, the charter of confirmation bearing date 1062. His motive in selecting Waltham for his munificence is unknown. Legend states that he was cured of a paralysis by the touch of the Holy Rood; but for this explanation there is no foundation. The college flourished, became a monastery, underwent various changes, some of which can still be traced in the fragments which remain, was finally suppressed, and the earlier portion of it, together with the monastic buildings, except a. gateway ami one or two fragments, utterly destroyed. " The nave of the Romanesque church is all that remains. The addition of a large decorated chapel to the south, and of a debased tower to the west, the destruction d of the whole conventual buildings, have of the eastern part of the church, an between them converted the once splendid church at Waltham into a patched and mutilated fragment." Too true; but a, fragment of no small grandeur, of no little interest. But was Harold buried in Waltham Abbey? On tins point there is a conflict of testimony. As to his final resting-place, there are three accounts at least. The H O Waltham and Battle.] THE DEATH OF HAROLD. 219 one declares that he did not fall on the field of Scnlac, but, escaping under cover of the night, made his way to Chester, and there, after living some time as an anchorite in a cell near the city walls, wlii"li is still pointed out, died and was buried. This theory is by no means of modern growth. It is mentioned, but of course not favourably, in "Liber de [nventione Sanct;e Crucis," the author of which, a canon of Waltham Abbey, wrote in the reign of Henry I. On this story, how- ever, we need not dwell, nor on the variation of it which makes him end his days as a monk at Waltham. As the best authority on the subject informs us, nothing is more certain than that Harold fell on the held of Senlac. Still, granting this, it is doubtful where he was buried. Upon this point the earliest authors are not agreed. Some say that his body was given up freely by the Conqueror to his mother, by whom it was conveyed to Waltham Abbey and there entombed ; others that William, though offered for the corpse its weight in gold, sternly refused an honourable burial for him through "whose doing so many lay unburied. "Place him," he said, "between the laud and the sea, since madly he has oppressed both.' 1 On the former side are Ordericus Vitalis, William of Poitou, and Guy of Amiens ; on the latter, William of Rlalniesbury, Wace, and others. With such a conflict of early authorities, it is hard to come to a conclusion. Professor Freeman suggests, as a possible solution, that William nun' have first pronounced the harsher sentence, aial shortly afterwards, when he was adopting a. policy of conciliation towards the English, may have permitted Harold's relations to exhume the body and bury it at Waltham. It is certainly difficult to understand how a false tradition of Harold's burial at tins abbey could have sprung up within a century of the date of his death, and during a time when the possession of his tomb would not have been a passport to the favour of the king or of his courtiers. Waltham was too near to London to be a suitable centre for reactionary sentiment in the time of the Norman monarchs. There is yet another question of the highest interest for the archaeologist. Is the oldest part of the present church a remnant of the one built by Harold? As a rule, such a question would not be difficult to answer. In this case it is by no means easy. The style of the Romanesque work in Waltham Church, though indicative of an early date, seems ton advanced for a building' erected soon after the middle of the eleventh century. Still, it appears to be rather earlier in design than the transepts of Winchester and the nave of Durham, which are among our earliest Norman work, and certainly the style is less developed than it is at Ely, Peterborough, or Norwich, with all of which cathedrals it has many points in common. It resembles the nave of St. Stephen's at Caen, which was built by William the Conqueror in commemoration of his victory, and was consecrated eleven years after the death of Harold, or within twenty years of the asserted building of Waltham. Hence we may explain the architectural difficulty by 220 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Waltiiam supposing that Harold, like King Edward at Westminster, entrusted the building of his church to Norman architects, as he had personal knowledge of the superi- ority of their work to that of the men of his own land. Negative evidence, for a discussion of which Ave are in- debted to Professor Freeman, is strongly in favour of the claim of Waltham Abbey to be the actual work of Harold. There are two early chronicles: the "Vita flaroldi," which was written shortly after the year 1205, and the "Liber do Inventione Sanctse Crucis," already mentioned. Now, whatever be the date of the Romanesque work at Waltham, it is certainly much earlier than the end of the twelfth century. The foundation was indeed remodelled by Henry II., who removed the "seculars" and brought in "regulars;" and this would be a likely occasion for a rebuilding; but we can hardly believe the architecture to be SO and Battle.] THE FOUND tillfj. 221 late as 1177. We may go further, and say that early in this century is the latest date winch we can assign to the nave. It is therefore improbable that a church of exceptional splendour would have been rebuilt within little more than half a century without some cause — such as a tire — which would certainly have formed an epoch in the annals of the abbey ami have been well known to the above authors. Yet, although Henry's alterations and sundry changes in the monastic buildings are mentioned by the author of the "Vita Haroldi," not a hint is _t work of a reconstruction of the therefore, safe to conclude that GATEWAY OF BATTLE ABBEY. in the nave of Waltham Abbey we have a. fragment of Harold's church, and a building in the most advanced style of Romanesque architecture, as it then existed, in the north-western part of Europe. The Abbey of the Holy Rood (for so we may now call it) was placed on the meadows in the level valley of the Lea, between the river and the slopes which rise gradually to the gently-swelling uplands of Epping Forest. There, though perhaps the situation was in early days somewhat marshy, the brethren would not have far to go for their dinner of fish on a day of Fasting, or for a fat buck to grace the table at a, high festival. At the present time there is little to attract, either in the situation or in tin.' exterior of the abbey. From the railway station a. level road leads us through scattered houses and a. poordooking street up to a mean and rather low tower, which stands full in view at the end. Houses 222 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Waltham or gardens prevent any examination of the northern side of the church) the road passes close to the western front, but on the south is a fairly spacious churchyard, in which are some large elms, one, opposite to the south door, a huge stump, mutilated like the church itself, but evidently of a very great age. In a few words we may describe such parts of the exterior as can lie seen by the ordinary visitor. The western tower was built in 1556, some years after the suppression of tin.- abbey; it is a paltry work, rendered yet meaner by a ''restoration" in the last century. By this addition a. rather tine Late Decorated "western front, the doorway of which yet remains within the tower, and portions of which nan' still lie seen flanking it, was utterly defaced. This facade, like that of St. Alban's, had no towers; hat the Norman church was designed for western towers, indications of which may still be seen, at any rate on the south side, though it is very doubtful whether they were ever completed. This side also shows us the original Norman work, still comparatively intact; the aisle lighted by round-headed windows of simple design, with circular windows above, indicative of a triforium, and a clerestory of windows generally similar to those below. There is a south door (restored), and against the two bays east of it has been erected a Late Decorated chapel with large hut not very satisfactory windows. It has a separate entrance, and its floor is on a higher level than the church. Beneath it is a, vaulted crypt, half-sunk in the ground, and lighted by small windows; this is now occupied mainly by a warming apparatus. Evidently this addition blocked the side lights of the southern transept, but it has led to the preservation of the wall, from which we see that, as in St. .Stephen's, Caen, the transepts were short, consisting only of two bays from the crossing, and without aisles. Beyond this wall all has perished; the western tower arch, of course, still remains, and is blocked up, the windows being evidently a modern restoration. Of the choir not a trace remains, and on the northern side even the western wall of the transept has been obliterated; the churchyard occupies the site of these buildings, and beyond it are gardens. Probably Harold's abbey had only a short choir, like theoriginal one at St. Stephen's, Caen. That at first consisted of two bays only, and was terminated by an apse; hut inasmuch as a reconstruction of the nave at Waltham was taken in hand in the fifteenth century, it is very probable that the original choir had been previously removed, and had keen replaced by one more suited to an elaborate ritual. A church which in its plan still retained some remembrance of the primitive basilica was rarely suffered to remain unaltered during the latter part of the Middle Ages. The oldest choirs which have come down to us were, 1 believe in all cases built after a. distinctly cruciform plan had been adopted. In most instances we tied the older Norman work in the nave. Seven bays form the nave of Waltham, six of the bays being arranged in pairs; and Bathe.] THE NA VE. 223 the middle pillar of the easternmost pair lias a spiral ornament, that of the next pair a chevron ornament. Both these types occur at Durham and Dunfermline; that of the westernmost pair is plain. The capitals are rather flat. There is a large triforium arch in each bay, which is not divided, as at Peterborough and at Rochester, and a fairly high clerestory window of one light, with a small subsidiary blank arch on either side. A zigzag ornamentation is rather freely used. In short, the design and proportion have a general resemblance to those in the naves of Eh', Peterborough, and Southwell, and the old work, except in the western bays, has escaped from later alterations. There is a flat wooden ceil- ing, a restoration, painted, and a copy of that at Peterborough. The aisles are open to the roof, now a modern half-barrel in wood, so that there is no triforium gallery. They do not appear to have been vaulted, but there seem to be some indications that, as we should expect, the triforium was formerly a reality, and was cut off by a flat ceiling. This, however, must have been removed at an early period, probably in the fourteenth century, when the ill-advised alterations were made in the -western bays. These may be briefly designated as a very clumsy attempt to reconstruct the nave, after the manner of William of Wykekam at Winchester. But at Waltham the architect merely cut away the pier arch, re- placing the mouldings of the triforium arch by very mean Late Decorated work, leaving 1 the oriffinal Norman piers both in the one and in the other. Anything O O J J o more hideous and incongruous than the result it is difficult to conceive. The blunderers had spoiled two bays, and had just begun upon the next triforium arch on the north side when fortunately their work was stopped. Except for the Lady Chapel on the south side, and the insertion of a fairly good Decorated and of a poor Perpendicular window on the north side, the original work still remains, even in the walls of the aisles. The church has undergone a very careful restoration, the most noteworthy addition being a carved and painted reredos, which harmonises well with the rest of the buildings. Except for a large Elizabethan monument, and a marble tomb, on which the bust of the departed Mr. R. Smith, who died in Hi!)?, stands as if on a sideboard, there is little to notice in the details of the church. The tomb of Harold, with others of note, was in the choir. These have all perished, but to examine such a precious fragment of the earlier Romanesque is well worth a long pilgrimage. In association with this foundation of Harold, we may briefly notice the church — which has survived the abbey that was built to commemorate his defeat and death; though with these events the church had only an indirect connection. On the spot where Harold fell, at the foot of the Royal Standard of England, the Conqueror placed the high altar of his votive abbey. Its stately buildings rose upon the plateau, overlooking the slopes which had been drenched with the blood 224 ABBEYS A^ T D CHURCHES. [Waltuam akd Battle. i ) f the combatants. That church, however, has been levelled with the ground; only portions of the monastery remain ; the parish church of Battle is an offshoot of later date. At first the people of the village worshipped in the conventual church. This was soon found inconvenient by the monks, so that one Ralph, Abbot of Battle from 1107 to 1R24, built a parish church, to the north of the monastery, on the opposite verge of the plateau, which was served by one of the monks as chaplain-vicar. The present structure is of various dates. The older part is Early English, but the pillars of the nave may perhaps lie a little more ancient. Considerable additions and alterations were made, in both the Decorated and the Perpendicular styles, the western tower being a late example of the latter. There are several monuments, anterior to the Reformation, which are interesting, and so are other details, on which want of space precludes us from dwelling. The church, which has been restored, is in excellent order, and should not he left unvisited by pilgrims to the field of Senlac. The latter affords little pleasure. Once only in a week is admission granted to one of the most interesting spots in England, the scene of the greatest crisis in our national history; and then the accumulated throngs are conducted along like Hocks of sheep. Doubtless anything like admission on easy terms might he annoying to the owner, but if so, steps should lie taken to make the field of Senlac national property. One characteristic of the church must lie noticed. As tin' abbey was free from episcopal jurisdiction, so also was the church. Previous to the Reformation its minister was one of the decani or deans of the abbey, and alter its suppression the immunity and the title still remained ; thus the rector continued to bear the title of Dean of Rattle. His parish formed what was called a Peculiar, ami so late as 1M44 the Bishop of Chichester, when confirming m the church, protested that he acted not by his episcopal authority hut with consent of the dean. To this day similar immunity is claimed by the Dean of Westminster, who guards his rights by a, formal protest when the abbey is used for an episcopal function; but the only Deans of Peculiar now remaining in England, besides Rattle, are at Stamford and at Booking:. rp ,-< p „„„ EYAM. BETWEEN THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 7 F you ask, in any part of the wild and beautiful moorland country, on the -*- confines of Derbyshire and Yorkshire, commonly identified by holiday-making Sheffield grinders with the Hallamshire hunt, or if you interrogate any dweller in the Peak, regarding the road to Eyam, you will probably receive no better reply on the instant than a puzzled stare, a shake of the head, arid an expression of doubt as to the existence of any such place thereabouts. There's Baslow; but vou don't mean Baslow ; no, nor Foolow, nor yet Grrin'l'ford Bridge. Is it Eem ? It' you have any intimate experience of popular vagaries in the pronunciation of local names you will make a dash at " Eem," and say that's it, as indeed it is. The corruption of the name is really nothing compared with Toadholes for Twodales. Eyam, or Eem, is one of the most interesting villages in Eng- land. Romantic in situation, in appearance, in the traditions and monuments winch link it with noble deeds in the annals of practical religion and divine humanity, it stands in the first rank of places that ought to be famous. Yet it is little visited by tourist or Ll tripper," lying as it does beyond railway reach, and only accessible from Sheffield by omnibus three times a week. The nomenclature of the spot is curious. You hear frequent mention of a certain Sir William, who exists only in form of a mountain or lofty hill, by which winds the road that brings you down through a lovely dell into the scarce less lovely village. Again, there is Cucklet Church; but you may turn the leaves of the Clergy List in vain to find the name of patron or incumbent, the value of the living, or any circumstances relating to the presentation. There is, in fact, no parish of Cucklet, nor any church built with human hands, but only a rock, with an adjacent ravine, the name of which is Cucklet Delph. How the name Cucklet Church arose, and how the rock came to be called Pulpit Pock — a title as lasting, in all likelihood, as the limestone buttress itself — will appear on closer acquaintance with Eyam and its history. Eyam, indeed,, being a township, village, and parish of Derbyshire, and a D D THE CROSS. 220 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES, [Eyam. rural deanery to boot, in the archdeaconry of Derby and the diocese of Lichfield, has a church — the church of St. Helen — an ancient stone building, with chancel, nave, aisles, and a square clock-tower, which holds a peal of four bells. The tower, rising from the west end, was added in the reign of James I. hv a pious maiden lady, Madam Stafford, one of the Staffords whose old mansion crumbles to decay above the village, where it stands in token of their proprietorship in these parts long ago. Like must old churches in rustic parts, as indeed in populous com- munities also, this parish church of Eyam hears the mark of many an age since its early foundation. There was little thought of architectural congruity during the slow growth, from period to period, of abbeys and churches in olden times. The additions were made as their need arose; and we see in the church of St. Helen a curious diversity of styles, each relating to a separate chapter in the history of the building. Inscriptions on the hells are "Jesvs bee our spede," and Cl God save His Church." Something less than twenty years ago the edifice was restored by the architect of the new Courts of Justice in London — the late Mr. George Edward Street, L.A. The monuments within the church principally commemorate princip the Middleton and Wright families; there is a brass which records the restoration of the building as a memorial of the Plague; and there is also a stained-glass window, in memory of Mrs. Charles Gregory. About the most ancient relic pertaining to the interior is the stone font, which is lined with lead; this pre- caution for its preservation having been taken, apparently, many generations ago, when the decay of the stone became a matter of very proper and respectful anxiety. But it is outside the church that a far more ancient monument than any within its walls is to he seen. This is a knotted and so-called "runic" cross, which, having keen found in remarkably good preservation on Eyam Moor, was brought hither, and now divides attention, in the quief old churchyard sur- rounded by loft)' lindens, with the tomb of that devoted Christian gentlewoman, Catherine Mompesson, wife of the no less faithful messenger of mercy and bene- ficence, William Mompesson, Lector of Eyam in the direful year 1665. The lady whose remains are here entombed was the daughter of Ralph Carr, of Cocker, in the county of Durham. Something strange and awful characterises the record of that visitation which connected a remote Derbyshire village, shut in by natural beauties that are themselves significant of pastoral seclusion, with a plague-stricken city far away. It was rumoured that a chest of infected clothes, sent from London to a tailor in this little township, carried death to more than three-fourths of the population, sparing, indeed, only eighty-three persons out of a total of three hundred and fifty. The register, which dates from the year 1636, bears terrible witness to this sweeping scourge. The church .ind churchyard became in a few weeks or months an over-gorged Golgotha, and Kvam] THE VLAGUE. 227 graves wore of necessity made in open places around the village; so that the "rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep," for the most part, in ground miconse- crated, or consecrated only by fellowship in the common lot. The beautiful story iii' the Mompessons has the advantage over many church legends of being simply true. When the pestilence broke out at Eyam, in the year 16G5, flic rector, William Mompesson, who had resided there no more than a twelvemonth, was on the point of resigning his living. This is plainly shown by a letter which is extant. Hut he was one of those pastors whom affliction binds all the more firmly to their flocks. lie gave up Ids intention of departure, sent away his children only, and remained with Ins saint-like wife to succour all who needed help and consolation. With the approval and assistance of the Earl of Devonshire, he drew a cordon round the village, and by the force of gentleness induced all his parishioners to remain within the boundary, so that they might not lie tin; means of spreading contagion broadcast. Their love and respect for this good man — priest, physician, and legislator in on< — no doubt saved the district. Mean- while the Earl, who never left his seat of Chatsworth in the adjacent country, while the pestilence raged, sent them fond, which was placed just outside the line of demarcation; and this method was adopted with regard to other neces- saries supplied from without, payment being made in a singular manner, for which a local peculiarity aptly provided. Troughs of running water are common throughout the district; in some of these the money was placed; and one of them, to this day, is called Mompesson' s Well. It is plain that the Rev. William Mompesson had subscribed the Act of Uniformity, and was not one of the 2,000 clergyman lost in those days to the Church of England by their conscientious scruples and refusal to conform. But, as if to show that differences in theology may and do exist without loss of true charity on either side, there still dwelt in Eyam the former rector of the place, Mr. Mompesson's immediate predecessor, the Rev. Thomas Stanley, who had been ejected from his living for contumacy. In all likelihood there existed between these two gentlemen no great warmth of personal regard. A certain, or, rather, an uncertain, degree of coolness may almost be assumed here, as a matter of course. But sorrow is " a reverend thing." In its si,u,'ht, men do not stand to chop logic; and the two clergymen, joining heart and hand, were one. it was little they could do, yet it was much. The healing art had degenerated, and had fallen largely among quacks. Science, especially sanitary science, stood afar off; and, medically, the two faithful preachers and doers of the Word were, as we should say, "nowhere." The poorest and weakest of their Hock could not have stood more humbly or more ignorantly in the hand of Grod than did they. Little, very little, was their own unaided power of help. 228 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Eyam, But the two soldiers of peace carried on the strife day after day, week after week, month after month. The foe was strong and pitiless. For more than a year did the rector and his wife, aided by their friend, devote themselves wholly and entirely to their flock. Then, having spared hut a remnant of the THE CHURCH. population, one-fourth at most, the pestilence abated. It had ceased in London before the end of May, 1G6G; and there was good hope in the little Derbyshire villages that there also its ravages were finally stayed. But alas! no. There came another outbreak in August, fiercer than the first; and that fourth portion of tlio Eyam folk which remained was speedily reduced to a sixth, anion" 1 the later victims being the brave Catherine Mompesson. Then her bereaved husband closed the church, as a means of reducing the danger of infection. A family named Hancock, numbering seven in all, was mowed down in one week. Its members were all buried on the hill-side, where many other graves were made, their own resting-place being now marked by memorial stones. At one time the fields mi which com has since waved, were covered with similar memorials; but by ones, twos, and threes, they have been carried off by cottagers, to serve as lintels, thresholds, and hearths for their humble dwellings. Moreover, those that for a time were spared ceased to preserve their olden character and significance. Agreeably to ancient local custom, they were laid flat in the first instance; but ByamJ A TEMPLE OF NATURE,. 229 some freak or mistaken notion of propriety caused them to be set upright. The closing' of Eyam Church was, as already stated, the best means that could be devised for checking the contagion, and it by no means denoted that approach of insane, desperate infidelity which has sometimes heaped horror upon horror's head. We know that ribald, blasphemous orgies raged in London among the dead and dying, that wretches hastened their end with fiery chink, and died with laughter and curses on their lips. There are no records, nor was there any like- lihood, of such hideous profanity among the victims of the plague at Eyam. We have seen that the church was closed, and yet supplications to the throne of grace, from the sadly dwindling body of worshippers, did not cease. in the lofty limestone rock already mentioned is a natural opening or perfora- tion. From this high place, known for all after time as Pulpit Rock, the good clergyman addressed, exhorted, encouraged, and consoled his afflicted congre- gation, seated on the grass far apart. Such was the origin of the name which has clung lovingly to the ravine for two hundred years and upward — Cucklet Church. The instinctive reverence winch bids a man take off his hat when he enters the House of Grod, may well prompt the same decorous act when he stands in view of this primitive seclusion, which is a church only in name. No vaulted roof, but heaven's own canopy, overspreads the spot; no lofty shafts of stone spring up to meet arch after arch in lengthening vista; there are no marble tombs, proud in heraldic blazonry and chivalric emblems; no deftly carved baldaquin covers mural monument or recumbent knight; no banners, mouldering in peaceful decay, tell their tales of olden feud and battle; no deep rich tint of gules or azure stains the sunshine. Peace, and the memory of love stronger than death, have made the spot their consecrated home; and truly, if we seek the monument of that man to whose virtues and devotion Cucklet Church and the Pulpit Pock owe their names in the history of beneficence, we have but to "look around.'' There is something almost suggestive of natural architecture in the spot. The rock, projecting from the side of a steep hill, is perforated so as to resemble the portico of an irregularly formed building. The deep and narrow dingle in which it is placed is rich with verdure. Its steep sides are adorned with the hazel, the wild-rose, the dogberry, and the yew, beauti- fully chequered with the light and silvery branches of the birch, and the more ample foliage and deeper colouring of the oak and the (dm. Here, too, in all its luxuriance, is the Tree of the Peak, the tall, aspiring ash, so invariable an adjunct of Derbyshire landscape. In the first poignancy of his anguish when his wife died, and when he saw the little remnant of his flock falling around him, Mompesson wrote a sad but not despairing letter to his patron, Sir George Savile, in which he spoke of himself as a dying man, for, indeed, there seemed little hope or likelihood that 230 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Eyam. his life would be spared. His beloved wife, the mother of his two children, who had been sent to a place of safety, was but twenty-seven years old at the time she died of this terrible malady. Thinking now only of his "two pretty babes," he made his will, and in the farewell letter to Sir George Savile expressed a hope that this gentleman would not take it amiss to find himself named as executor. But the good clergyman was not yet to die. lie had never feared death; but reason had shown him the slenderness of the thread by which he held to life. In November, 1666, he wrote, " Here Las been such burning of goods that the like I think was never known, and, indeed, in tliis I think we lane been too precise. For my part, 1 have scarcely left myself apparel to shelter my body from tin.' cold, and have washed more than need was, merely for example. As for my part I cannot sav that I had ever better health than during the time of the dreadful visitation, neither can 1 say that I have had any symptoms of the disease. My man had the distemper, and upon the appear- ance of a tumour I gave him several chemical antidotes, which had a very kind operation, and, with the blessing of God, kept the venom from his heart; and after the rising broke lie was very well." William Mompesson, two or three years after the great tribulation which befell him and his people, was presented to the living of Eakring, a village in Notts, where is a very ancient church that formerly belonged to RufEord Abbey: and here he ended his days, and was buried within the walls of the said church. Eakring is near the quiet, clean, and demure little cathedral-city of Southwell, where Mompesson held a prebendary. In spite of the length of time which had elapsed since the devastation of Eyam by the Black Death, the ignorant villagers of Eakring refused to have him in their midst; so at first he dwelt alone in a hut which was built for him in Rufford Park, the seat of the Saviles. Traits of Derbyshire configuration have a marked centre in Eyam, which is built on a series of stalactite caves, and has all the geological peculiarities of the Peak, while the country around is in the highest degree picturesque, romantic, and interesting. The mountain strangely named Sir William rises to a height of 1,200 feet, almost in the centre of the township. From the summit of this eminence the view over moor and dale extends to Axe Edge, Mam Tor, and Kinderscout; nor is it the only prospect which confers on the village a. name for grandeur and beauty. To the north of Eyam is a mountain range which com- pletely shelters the place from bleak winds prevailing in that quarter; and nearer to tin; little commune is that beautiful dell which is sometimes called the bock Garden and sometimes the Place of Echoes. The parish is more than two-thirds agricultural, the child' crops being grass and corn; though, indeed, as in most of the Peak country, pasturage tills the first place, and there is much grazing and dairy-land. To glance through the local directory is to see the word "farmer" Eyam.] THE "RUNIC" CROSS. 23-J in almost unbroken sequence, like a row of railings. II' the truth were known, it is probable that much of the cheese sold as Cheshire comes from this part of Derbyshire, over and above the kind thai is known as Derby cheese. The Peak land, on which rain falls copiously and often, is, nevertheless, barren, compared ■with the rich, flat, arable country of South Derbyshire. In no part of Great Britain is antiquity more visibly stamped on the names of places. Barrows, buries, and lows are all unmistakable signs of the Roman or the Briton; and the names that bear sonic- or other of these terminations are manifold. Eyam comes in for a fair share. Its moor, now enclosed, was covered with "Druidical" remains; and the mirth part of the parish is full of cairns, bar- rows, mounds, and similar relics of the vague and distant past. The ring of stones on Eyam moor, reduced in number from sixteen to ten, is the most nearly perfect of the class which has been defined by the late Sir John Gardner Wilkinson as "encircled cairns;" but it does not stand alone, for near it are traces of no fewer than twelve similar, though smaller, circles. The name of this particular example, in the folk-lore of Eyam and the district, is Wet-withins. There is a very dec}* mine on Evam edge, the deepest, indeed, in Derbyshire, called the New Engine Mine, where, according to tradition, the shuck of the earthquake which destroyed Lisbon in 1755 was sensibly felt. Other mines in the same locality are also said to have 1 n affected by that stupendous natural convulsion. The peculiar condition of the mineral galena, an ore of lead, locally known as " slickensides," occurs in Hay Cliff Mine. The blow of a, hammer, the scratch of a pick, might at any time explode the rock to which this perilous stuff is attached. Of the old stone cross which stands near the chancel porch in Evam church- yard a few words remain to be said. It is a thing apart from Eyam history, that is, the history of the village so named, for it was brought hither from the adjacent moor, and was laid prostrate and broken in a neglected corner, where, overgrown with docks, thistles, and other rank weeds, it was perceived by Howard, the philanthropist, on a visit which lie paid to these parts. It is a relic of an early period of Christianity in Great Britain, and is more curiously orna- mented and embossed than one which is preserved in the churchyard of Bakewell, and which was found, like the Eyam specimen, on the moorlands, and deposited for safety in consecrated ground. Both crosses are sadly mutilated, and it is a common tradition at Eyam that the fragment lost from the top of the shaft, mea- suring about two feet in length, was thrown carelessly about the ground, towards the end of the last or beginning of the present century, till at last it was knocked to pieces, and scattered no one can tell where Godfrey Wordsworth Turnkr. SHREWSBURY. CHUECHES OF THE TOWN AND OP BATTLEFIELD. J\ ^EW English towns offer more attractions to the traveller than ^ifpr^'ir Shrewsbury, which lias been a place of note since the Princes of Powis had their palace in Pen-gwem, even then, twelve centuries ago, an old British stronghold. The country round is remarkably pretty, the town is finely situated on a steep headland, washed on three sides by the (Severn, and its streets arc unusually rich in relies of olden time. On the present occasion, however, we must not linger over its timbered houses, many and fine though they lie, over its broken walls, or its famous grammar-school, hut restrict ourselves to a. passing glance at its churches, two of which, by their graceful spires, add much to the beauty of the views of the town. St. Mary's, the most conspicuous of these — for its tapering spire rises some 200 feet above the churchyard, and its eastern window overlooks the steep descent to the margin of the Severn — is one of those buildings that are at once a problem and a delight to the antiquarian. It has been enlarged, altered more than once, and partly rebuilt, so that to decipher its history is almost like picking to pieces a puzzle. In this, however, we are helped, while the com- posite aspect of the building is increased, by the fact that stone of different colour has been used at different periods. There was ;i church here before the Norman Conquest, of which, however, no remnant can now lie identified. This, probably not long after that event, was replaced by a structure which forms the nucleus of, and was not much smaller than, the present church. It was plain and massive in style, constructed of a rather friable red sandstone. To this church, besides sundry fragments, may fie referred the three lower stages of the tower and parts of the transepts, especially a circular window in the northern and a plain round-headed window in the southern transept, both in the eastern walls. Hence we see that it, too, was cruciform in plan. A small fragment of an arcade in the south wall of the chancel, about half-way alone' it, shows that its choir extended tor some distance eastwards. This church, however, was not allowed to stand very long untouched. About the end of the twelfth century it was gutted and to a, great extent rebuilt. To this period belong the' graceful clustered columns and the semicircular moulded arches which divide the nave from the aisles, together with the arches at the cross, the greater part of the transepts, and portions of the chancel. This work indicates the transition from the Norman to the Early English style, and must, I Shrewsbury.] ST. MABT8 CHUROff. 233 think, have occupied some time. The two arches in the eastern wall of each transept are .semicircular and distinctly Norman in character; so, too, are the nave arches, but these have all the grace, betokens the influence of the later style, while the great arches at the cross ightness, and general treatment which are pointed. Above these, however, is an arcade, the outer arches of which are round, and the prin- cipal windows in the tran- septs are true " lancets." There is also Early Eng- lish work in the chancel, but this again has been altered. It is evident THE ABBEY CI1UUC11, that the church at this time was lower than it is at present, for the arcade just mentioned appears to have originally formed a. pair of windows. Pos- sibly there may have been a low tower at the cross, but, if so, the eastern wall has been entirely obliterated. In this condition the church probably remained for another century, and then the architects again set to work. The chancel was altered and the magnificent eastern window inserted, the aisles were rebuilt, the clerestory was rebuilt or added, a great chapel was erected east of the southern E E 234 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Shkewbetoy. transept, and those attached to the northern were parti)' reconstructed, a chamber was placed above the Norman north porch; lastly, the massive walls of the old Norman west tower were made to support a belfry chamber and the present tapering spire. These alterations were not simultaneous. As may lie seen, they began when the Decorated style had reached its fullest development, of which the east window is an example; they continued till the Perpendicular became the fashion, as indicated in most other parts of the building, and notably in the spire. .Since then the chroniclers of St. Mary's have little to record except the usual tale of neglect and injury, amended during the present reign by a very thorough restoration. This seems to have been done with but little reconstruction, so that the inquirer can venture to speculate, as we have done, on the past history of the fabric. On many other interesting details we have not space to dwell; but the richly carved dark oak roof of the nave must not he forgotten, nor the old stained glass, in which the church is unusually rich. The great east window is a representation of the "Stem of Jesse;" the glass, however, was transferred hither from a Franciscan priory, and so was not originally designed for the tracery. On the north side of the chancel is a verv interesting window repre- senting incidents in the life of St. Bernard, The design is attributed to Albert Diirer ; at any rate, it is of Ins period, and indicates the hand of no mean draughtsman. A statue, commenced by Chantrey, commemorates Or. Butler, once head master of the school and afterwards Bishop of Lichfield ; and a tablet records the name of that old sea lion, Admiral Benbow, who carried on a run- ning fight for five days with the French fleet, which was only preserved by the cowardice or treachery of his own captains. Chagrin and a wound, received on the last morning of the tight, brought him to his grave ; but it is satis- factory to record that the recreants were justly punished, two of them being shot. An old altar tomb claims to be the grave of Hotspur. It is, however, earlier, perhaps by a century, than the date of his death, and is generally sup- posed to belong to a family named Leyborne, formerly lords of Berwick, That would give it a faint connection with Hotspur's death, for he camped near this place on the last night id' his life, and recognised an evil omen in its name. There may also lie a certain historical basis for the tradition, for when the tomb was opened some years back a headless skeleton was found therein, which had apparently been introduced a good while after the original interments. This has been supposed to be the remains of the Earl of Worcester, who was executed at Shrewsbury a day or two after the battle. His friends may have hastily buried his body in this tomb, lest, like that of Hotspur, it should lie subjected to indignities. The second important church in Shrewsbury stands on the low ground on Shrewsbmy.] ST. WINIFRED. 205 the opposite bank of the Severn, near the confluence of the Meole Brook. It is a fragment, almost the only one now remaining, of the once stately Benedic- tine abbey of St. Peter and St. Paul. Before the Norman Conquest a little church of wood had been built on the strath, near where the English bridge now spans the Severn, for this place, as ford or ferry, is probably on a very ancient line of road. On Saturday, March 3, 1083, as a chronicle records, Roger de Montgomery laid his sword upon the altar of St. Peter, in token of his vow to found an abbey and give to it " the whole suburb lying without the eastern gate." This he did, and eleven years afterwards, when his health was failing, lie assumed the monastic habit in his new foundation, where, three days later, he died, and was buried in the new church, "between the two altars." This foundation grew and prospered, and in the reign of Stephen increased its popularity by acquiring many precious relies. Chief among these were the bones of St. Winifred. Tins holy maiden once dwelt in Flintshire; in her youth a wild prince offered her violence, and in a rage at her endeavours to escape he struck off her head with his sword. Miracles began at once. From the ground where the head rested a spring gushed forth, and the murderer began to wither away. Then came a saint, who joined head to body, and the maiden revived? he also healed the murderer, who was now duly penitent. At last Winifred died in the course of nature, and was buried in a certain graveyard among other saints. The monks of Shrewsbury Abbey heard of St. Winifred's fame, and were anxious to add her relics to their treasures, ft is on record how they obtained permission to treat witli the people of the district, how they sent a party in search of the relics, how they were directed to the spot, how they won the consent of the lawful owners, the opposition being represented by "a man of Belial," who, however, was at last convinced — by golden arguments. Then we are told, how they reverently exhumed the hones from the sacred field, and carried them homewards, leaving a trail of miracles. Truly, the whole story is strange but instructive reading, especially in this nineteenth century, when credulity and incredulity alike run to excess. These relics, doubtless, proved a good investment, and at the last the abbey precincts covered ten acres of ground, and were enclosed by an embattled wall. To the south of a stately cruciform church lay the usual conventual buildings. The glory has departed; only the nave of the abbey church remains, and even that has c T i L . V ouslv suffered. The domestic buildings are gone, all but a fragment of a cloister and the beautiful reader's pulpit of the refectory, which was spared when the other ruins of that building were swept away to make room for the goods- yard of the railway, and now it "stands disconsolately among the trucks, as though the age of contemplation were protesting in vain against the iron age of labour." 230 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Shrewsbury Externally the abbey church is more interesting than beautiful. Many admire the great west window. In itself, it is undoubtedly a line specimen of Early ST. MARY S. THE FONT. Perpendicular, erected probably rather before 1377, for above it is a statue of Edward III., but it is out of all proportion to the stumpy western tower. Composition was not generally a strong point with the architects of the period, and the western part of Shrewsbury Abbey has always seemed to me, even tor that age, exceptionally bad. Further, in the eastern Inns of the nave the clerestory has gone, the triforium gallery has perished, its blocked arches serving as a, clerestory, while in the two western bays, which were rebuilt with the tower, the fourteenth century clerestory, with great windows usurping the triforium space, still remains. Thus tin' roof of this part is at a much higher level than the rest, producing a peculiar "hunchy" appearance; the clerestory windows also are reproduced on the side of the tower, adding to the general incongruity. Shrewsbury.] THE FABRIC. 337 Tf, however, we enter the building, we shall find that it lias escaped better than we expected. In the three eastern bays the work of Roger of Montgomery still remains, comparatively untouched. Huge circular pillars, with narrow, banded capitals, and extremely plain arches, indicate work belonging to the earlier period of the Norman style. Above, are the great arches of the triforium, corresponding with those below, but now blocked up, and converted into windows; then comes a hat ceiling of comparatively modern date, the old clerestory having been destroyed. Though the nave of a. great church was generally the last part built, we can hardly doubt that this was erected by the time Earl Roger died. A pier on the west side of the third bay takes the place of a column. This also has its history. A parish church, as has been said, existed here before Roger founded his monastery. Accordingly, the western part of the nave was appro- priated to the parishioners, and between these piers their altar was placed. In the fourteenth century the western half of the abbey church was rebuilt, as has been described, but a careful examination of the masonry in the lower part of the walls shows that the limits of Eaid Roger's church were not exceeded. The aisles also were partially rebuilt about the same time, but the narrow Norman pilasters can be seen outside, ami (lie semi-columns which bore the vaulting of the roof yet remain within. A north porch with an upper chamber was also added. The abbey contains a number of interesting monuments, but several have been brought hither from other churches in the town. One is said to com- memorate the founder, but tins is doubtful, and it is certainly not now jetween the two altar.- altar- tombs at the west end of the north aisle are interesting, as giving in juxta- position fine specimens of the work of the reign of Henry VIII, Elizabeth, and James I.; but if we were tempted into these details, a chapter, not a page or two, would have to be written on the old abbey. More than forty years since, as I can just remember, the church was a yet more incongru- ous piece of patchwork than now. But about the year 1863 it was very care- fully restored, and the blocked arches o BATTLEFIELD. the triforium and eastern end were rei idered much less unsightly. Great changes are, however, impending, for a 238 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Shrewsbury munificent donor lias given a sum of ten thousand pounds to build a chancel. Of the other churches of Shrewsbury, St. Alkmund's, which claims Ethelfleda, Alfred's daughter, as its foundress, and was once, like St, Mary's, collegiate, lias a graceful spire, but the steeple only is ancient. St. Julian's was rebuilt rather more than a century since, and retains only a mere scrap of its old work. St. Giles's has fared rather better, for some Norman work still remains. St. ('Lad's, once tlie most important church within tin- walls, is represented only by a tattered fragment. It traces back its history to the eighth century, and claims to stand on the site of the palace of the Princes of Powis. Late in the last century the tower fell, shattering much of the structure, so the Salopians of that day built themselves a circular church with a Doric portico, adding a tower, lest men should take it for a theatre, which otherwise it resembles. The arrangement of the interior is no less peculiar. The church is, undoubtedly, an exceptional one. Truth permits no more to lie said. One church, however, though three miles from the town, must not he left without a brief notice. This is the church of Battlefield, erected where Falstaff's famous fight ''for a long hour by Shrewsbury clock " did not take place. When the formidable rising of tin.' Percies in the north and tin.' Welsh in the west threatened to send Henry Bolingbroke again on las travels, if not on a longer journey, there was a race for the possession of Shrewsbury. Tin.' king's army Avon it by a. neck, and when Hotspur arrived at the north gate of the town the royal standard was flying on the castle, so he drew off his troops to Berwick, to await the coming of Glendower. It was obviously the king's policy, as he was in superior strength, to force a battle, and thus prevent the junction of his foes. Not a day was to he lost, for Glendower was close at hand. So next morning Henry pushed forward one detachment of his army towards Hotspur's position, and led the other along the direction of that leader's communications with the north. Hotspur, of course, wished to avoid an engagement, and retreated from Berwick, hut only to find the king's troops already occupying the road. So after an ineffectual parley the fight began. For some time the result was doubtful, l.uit at the critical moment Hotspur was struck down by an unknown hand. A panic seized the rebels; the royal troops charged with renewed vigour; the northerners broke and fled in wild confusion, while Glendower, who was lingering on the bank of the Severn, at once retreated. On the field of battle a church was built as a thank- offering. It is a g .1 specimen of the work of the time, bearing the date 140,'!, so that of course the style is Perpendicular. There is a massive western tower with a corner turret and on the gurgoyles are groups of combatants, and in one or two cannon are represented. A few years since the whole building was carefully restored, and, with its monuments of the Corbet family, is well worth a visit. T. G • Bonney. G R E A T II A M P I) E N. A PATRIOT'S (Mi AVIC. /~\N the edge of the Chiltems, and almosl overlooking the vale of Aylesbury, is the parish of Great Hampden — village it can hardly be called, for the houses are scattered, and there is no village .street; we come to a cottage or two, and then to a small farmhouse lying at the edge of a common, bright in spring and summer with the golden gorse; then passing along the side of a wood, where in spring pale primroses are abundant, there are a few more cottages, and we have seen all the place, except the parish church and the house, which are some distance off. These two buildings have not much external attractiveness, but no Englishman can look unmoved upon the home of the great patriot, John Hampden, and the church where he worshipped during his life, and in which he was buried. Hampden House occupies the site of a former building, part of which dated at least from the time of King John, who is said to have visited it. On the death of the last male representative of the family, in 1754, the old house was almost demolished, and what was not nulled down was modernised. Anion"' the oil paintings that adorn the walls, one of a gentleman in armour, with a serene countenance, and holding a scroll in his hand, is generally believed to he Hampden's portrait, due picture has a curious history. It was purchased in 174o by Dr. Henry, Dean of Kdllaloe, in Ireland, at a sale, and he ascertained that it had at one time been in the possession of Lord William Russell, who was executed in the reign of James the (Second. It was recognised by one of the Cavendish family, and on his authority has been accepted as genuine, though it differs considerably from an undoubted likeness in the possession of Lord St. Grermains at Port Eliot, in Cornwall. There are some other interesting portraits of members of the family, of Oliver Cromwell, and of Queen Henrietta Maria. But if the admirer of Hampden cannot find much to recall the patriot in the house which bears his name, he will not be so much disappointed in the adjacent church. Here he must have often taken part in Divine service, and listened to sermons from rectors appointed by himself, among them Y\ illiam Spurstow, who was chaplain of the Buckinghamshire regiment of infantry com- manded by Hampden at the beginning of the civil war, and who attended his colonel on his death-lied. His initials form the last two letters of the word Smectymnus, coined, or at least used, by Butler in L ' Hudibras "- " Canonical cravat fit' Since, From whom the institution came When Church and State they set on llamc " — •240 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Gkeat Hampden. the rest of the word being made up of the initials of Stephen Marshall, E. Calarny, J. Young, and M. Newcomen, all divines of note. Hampden Church is a small building, though large enough for the parish, and IN THE CHTJBCHYAttD. includes a nave, with two aisles, a chancel, and a square tower, in which hang three bells, dated 1625, probably the gift of the patriot. The church, except that it has been re-pewed, has not been much altered since his days, and in its simple arrangements and the absence of any attempt at adornment, is a fitting resting-place for one whom Carlyle has described as "the Lest beatified man we Great Hampden.] A GRUESOME INCIDENT. 241 have." The chancel floor covers the graves of the family, several of whom are commemorated in well-preserved brasses. The most interesting of the monuments is the plain Mack stone on the south side of the chancel erected by the patriot to the memory of his first wife, on which he has recorded that "she was in her pilgrimage the stay and comfort of her neighbours, the love and glory of a well -ordered family, the delight and happiness of tender parents, AND HAMl'DEN Hl)l>£. but a crown of blessings to a husband." Immediately opposite is a monument in the florid stylo of the iast centiuy, apparently intended to serve a double purpose. It records the death of the last male representative of the Hampdens and of his famous ancestor. A large sarcophagus, which contains the inscription, is supported on the right by a weeping hoy holding a cap of liberty, and on the left by a similar figure holding Magna Charta. Above is an oval medallion, with a relief of the patriot wounded on Chalgrove Field, and a tree with the various armorial bearings of the family. The chancel was in the year 1828 the scene of a strange incident. Lord Nugent, who was at that time compiling his valuable and interesting " Memoirs of Hampden," a work which forms the basis of Macaulay's brilliant essay, appears to have been seized with a desire to set at rest a. controversy as to the precise manner of his hero's death. He obtained permission of the representative of the family to open the grave and examine the bod)'. In the presence of himself, of Mr. Denman (afterwards Lord Chief Justice of England), and of a few f F 242 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Gbeat Hampden. others, search was made, and at the foot of Mrs. Hampden's monument was found a coffin supposed to be the object of the search. The plate was corroded and illegible, but the coffin was raised and opened. The body was in a fair state of preservation, and, in order to admit of examination, the head was raised, and the shoulders and arms were carefully surveyed. Lord Nugent appears to have been satisfied; the body was carefully replaced, and the coffin again buried. An account of this transaction was subsequently published in the Gentleman's Magazine, but some persons expressed a doubt whether, after all, the body which had been so indecorously treated was really that of Hampden. Lord Nugent may have shared in the doubt, or he, perhaps, hesitated to perpetuate in his book an account of so deplorable an affair. At least he has refrained from mentioning the incident, and the manner of Hampden's death remains in its former < ibscurity . But if we cannot ascertain whether Hampden died from a wound inflicted by a shot from the carbine of an enemy or by the bursting of one of his own pistols, we know that his life was spent in the service of his country, and that he fell on the field of battle fighting for her liberties. Of ids private history we would fain have a fuller account. Baxter said that he reckoned one of the pleasures of heaven would be the enjoyment of Hampden's society, and such language from the author of "The Saints' Everlasting Rest" is an abundant testimony to the piety and goodness of the patriotic statesman. We are un- fortunately ignorant of much that we should naturally desire to know of him. Lord Nugent endeavoured m vain to find memorials of his private life. A few letters to Sir John Eliot have been found, and after reading them, every admirer of Hampden has lamented that there are no more. The family who nave this name to the two parishes of Great and Little Hampden settled there as early as the reign of Edward the Confessor. Baldwyn de Hampden appears in Doomsday Book as a holder of lands in different parts of Buckinghamshire, ft is not improbable thai Baldwyn was one of tin.' Normans who came over to England at King Edward's imitation, and that his lands were unconfiscatcd at the Conquest because the owner was of Norman birth. During the wars of the Loses the Hampdens supported the house of Lancaster, and lost some lands, which were not restored to them by the general act of restitution passed in the reign of Edward IV. But on the whole they were a prosperous family, holding property in several parts of their own county, as well as in Berks, Essex, and Oxfordshire. One of the Hampdens Mas of the Privy Council in the reign of Henry VII., another attended Queen [Catherine <>n the Field of the Cloth of Gold; and Sybil, daughter of this Hampden, was nurse to Edward VI., and an ancestress of William l'enn. Griffith Hampden, the grandfather of the patriot, was sheriff of his county in Gkeat Hampden-.] SHIP-MONEY. 243 tlic time of Queen Elizabeth, and also represented it in one of her Parliaments, lie partially rebuilt the house, and there entertained the queen during one of her progresses. Her visit is still commemorated by an avenue cut in the wood on the Chiltern Hills above the village to facilitate her approach, and called the Queen's Gap. Griffith died in 1591, and was succeeded by his eldest son, William, member of Parliament for East Lone, in Cornwall, who married Elizabeth Cromwell, aunt of the Lord Protector. Two children were born of the marriage, the elder of whom was the famous John Hampden. While quite young bo was sent to the Grammar School at Thame, in Oxfordshire, not many miles from his Buckinghamshire home. At the age of fifteen he entered Magdalen College, Oxford, and seems to have done well at the University, for he was selected, with William Laud, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, and some others, to write congratulatory poems on the marriage of the Elector Palatine with Elizabeth, daughter of James the First. After leaving Oxford, Hampden was a student of the Inner Temple, and in 1619, being twenty-five years of age, he married Elizabeth, only daughter of Edmund Symeon, of Pyrton, in Oxfordshire. In the following year he entered Parliament as member for Grampound, in Cornwall. But it was some time before he took any prominent part in public affairs. He delighted in the life of a country gentleman, where his natural cheerfulness of disposition made him popular in the society of his friends and neighbours, and he entered freely into the amusements of his age. His chief pleasure was, however, in his library, and such indulgence as he allowed himself was only by way of relief to his study and his work. Hampden's name is specially associated with the famous question of the impost of ship-money. Charles wanted funds, and as he would not summon a Parliament, knowing the nation to be opposed to him, it was necessary to have recourse to arbitrary measures. The first writ for payment of the ship-money was directed to the City of London. Next the requisition was extended to all maritime towns. In the following year, 1636, the charge was laid on all counties, cities, and corporate towns. The county of Buckingham was asked to provide one ship of 360 tons for 144 men, the charge being £4,500, and the boroughs of Buckingham and Wycombe were separately assessed at £70 and £50 respectively. Against this form of taxation Hampden promptly decided to make a stand. His example in refusing to pay was very generally followed by his neighbours, and in other counties a similar course was taken by many of the inhabitants. It was determined to make an example of Hampden, and, proceedings having been instituted against the late High Sheriff of Buckingham- shire, Sir Peter Temple of Stowe, it was decided to take the opinion of the twelve judges as to the legality of the Tax. All but two of the judges took an affirmative view, but the two suffered themselves to be persuaded to sign 244 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Great Hampden. the opinion, which then appeared to be unanimous, and was enrolled as such in the Courts at Westminster, proceedings being at once commenced against AVENUE LEADING To HAMl'TiKN HOUSE. Hampden. The ease came on for hearing at Michaelmas form, when it was argued before all the judges in the Exchequer Chamber from the 6th of November to the 18th of December. The judges wore divided in their opinions, and a final decision was not arrived at until the 9th of Juno, L637. Then, live having pronounced in Hampden's favour and seven against him, judgment was entered for the Crown. Hampden had become famous as the opponent of unjust taxation. He was elected to represent his own county first in the Short and then in the Long Parliament, and, as everyone knows, he took a leading part in the memorable events that led up to the Civil War. On the 4th of January, 1642, the House of Commons received the intelligence that the king was coming down with a large guard to Westminster Hall to seize Hampden and four other members — Pym, Hollis, Strode, and Haselrigge — whom the Attorney-General had impeached in the House of Lords of high treason. As soon as the House assembled the live members were directed to withdraw', to avoid bloodshed; they accordingly took refuge in a house in Coleman Street. Meanwhile the king came into Palace Yard, and presented himself at the door of the House of Commons, ft was immediately opened, and the king entered and walked up to the chair. He looked round in vain for the objects of his search, and asked the Speaker to explain their absence. He received the memorable reply, "May it please your Majestv, 1 have neither GllEAT IlAMrl'li.N.] "TO ARMS." eyes to set 1 nor tongue to speak in this place but as the House is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am here; and I humbly beg your Majesty's pardon that I cannot give any other answer than this to what your Majesty is pleased to demand of me." Charles attempted a weak defence, and left amidst cries of ri vi lege. Things had now gone too far for an amicable settlement; and on the 22nd August, 1642, the king raised his standard at Nottingham. Thus the Civil War began. Some of Hampden's relatives took the royalist side, which added to his many anxieties. In the first year of the Avar other and severe trials befell him. He lost his eldest son and his favourite daughter. But none of these things could daunt his fearless spirit. He threw away the scabbard when he drew the sword. In his own county he raised an infantry regiment, known as the Buck- inghamshire Green-coats, anil having for their motto, " Vestigia nulla retrorsum." In drilling his men he was most assiduous, and under his command the regiment soon earned well-merited distinction. He took part in several minor engage- ments, was present at the indecisive battle of Edgehill, and in vain urged upon the sluggish Essex the expediency of renewing the engagement. Wherever he was found lie impressed his own energy upon his colleagues and subordinates, and had Essex possessed a tithe of his zeal, the Civil War might speedily have been determined in favour of the Parliamentary side. ll.Dll'UES S MONUMENT In the early summer id' Kit.'! Hampden was in Buckinghamshire, and the kind's head-quarters were at Oxford, whence Prince Rupert made many dashing attacks. On Saturday, dune 17th, Rupert left Oxford with a considerable body 24G ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Qsuux Hampden. of lior.se, and advanced towards the Chiltern Hills, leaving Thame, where Essex lay, some two or three miles on his left. Hampden happened to be at Watlington, and on hearing of the advance of the royalists, sent off a messenger to warn Essex. He then collected a few troops of cavalry, and on Sunday morning, in spite of the advice of some of his friends, started to oppose the enemy. He came up with Rupert on Chalgrove Field, and at once commenced the attack. In the first charge he was wounded and compelled to retire. The encounter was brief, and resulted in the defeat of the Parliamentary forces, but Rupert did not follow up his advantage, and quickly returned to Oxford. It is related that after being wounded, Hampden, with bent head, his hands resting on his horse's neck, would have made for Pyrton, the home of his first wife. But Rupert's cavalry occupied the intervening country, and he turned towards Thame. There his wounds were dressed, and the surgeon gave some hopes of his recovery. He himself knew otherwise, and during the few remain- ing days of lite' devoted his energies to despatching letters of counsel to the Parliament, although his sufferings were very great. A few hours before his death he received the Sacrament; and attended by his old friend, Dr. Giles, rector of Chinnor, and by Spurstow, the chaplain id' his regiment, he died in the act of prayer. A few days later his body was carried to Hampden, and was buried in the church where so many of his ancestors had been laid. J. A. -T. HorsnEN. HARROW AND NEWSTEAD. MEMORIES OF BYRON. ARMS OF HARROW SCHOOL. riMIE association between Newatead Abbey in Nottinghamshire and -*-■ the great public, school of Harrow in Middlesex is entirely Byronic; and we may at once premise that the two arc brought into combination in these pages on that account. As a matter of chron- ology, Byron went to Newstead before he went to Harrow. The wicked Lord Byron, his grand-uncle, whom he succeeded, having gone to his account, to the regret apparently of none, except his pet crickets, which are said to have marched out of the hall, never to return, on the day of the disreputable old peer's death, there appeared one summer day in 1798, at the line entrance to the park on the Mansfield Road, a vehicle from Nottingham, containing a stout, common-looking woman, a fat boy of ten, and a second woman, his nurse. The boy was the young Lord Byron, brought to see his inheritance. But the house was almost uninhabitable. Decay and ruin had made alarming encroachments everywhere, and short, therefore, was the stay made by the visitors. The mother and son had up to this period been residing on a slender income in Scotland, and the hermit peer who despoiled Newstead was wont to speak of the heir as " that young brat of Aberdeen." On receiving news of their change of fortune, the poor widow, who had been shamefully reduced to poverty by a handsome and blackguardly husband, sold up the modest household goods and set off on a southerly journey to Nottinghamshire. For a while Mrs. Byron and the podgy lad, who had been made a ward in Chancer)', resided in the county town; then in London, where George Gordon was taught by Glennie of Dulwich ; and then briefly at Cheltenham. How often Byron had visited Newstead during the four years covered by these wanderings (me can only conjecture; but it is evident that even when he went to Harrow he had possessed himself of all the traditions and spirit of the dreary abbey down in the Midlands. Lord Byron was at Harrow from 18()1 to 1805, passing his holidays princi- pally at .Southwell, which in these later days has been made an episcopal see. Newstead Abbey, for the major portion of Byron's minority, was rented by Lord Grey do Ruthen, but the schoolboy owner was always welcome there, and a room was set apart for his use. Harrow, since Byron's residence at the school, is altered in most respects, save in its magnificent situation. No march of progress can im- prove that away. As seen from the main line of the London and North- Western Railway, and from the level country extending on the other side to Epsom and Windsor, the slender spire rising above the elm tops must often recall to the 248 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Hahuow and mind of the wayfarer the scriptural illustration of a city set upon a hill. Truly it cannot be hid. The church of St. Mary at Harrow was founded by Lanfrane, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the reign of William the Con- queror ; but he did not live long enough to consecrate it, and Ansehn, his successor, had an undignified squabble with the Bishop of London's agents when, on a winter morning in 1094, he passed through the grand western doorway to perforin, with the florid ecclesi- astical pomp of the age, the consecration ceremony. It used to he believed that the circular columns which divide the aisles from the nave, and a part of the tower at the west end, were actual remnants of Lanfranc's building. But it lias now been demonstrated that the columns are of a later period, and it is doubtful whether anything is left of the original fabric. The date of Hot) has been mentioned as agreeing with the character of the western doorway. The church was sub- stantially rebuilt in the earl)- part of the fourteenth century; and a hundred years afterwards the giving way of the tower re- sulted in the varied and massive buttresses which are a marked feature of Har- row Church. The slender spire of wood covered with lead was added later. The elegant doorways (north and south) of the Decorated period are good specimens of the work done at this time. It is probable that the font is truly a relic of Lanfrane. For many years it had been used as a trough in the vicarage garden, no one appearing to suspect its true character; but when the discovery was made, lie; large circular 1'urbeek marble basin was rescued, its rudimentary carvings were restored, and, with added rim and base, it was placed in the church as it may now be seen. The existing church of Harrow-on-the-Hill, consisting of a nave, chancel, aisles, and transepts — not forgetting the famous tower and spire — is the result of a complete restoration, undertaken in 1840 by Sir Gilbert Scott. Previous to that time the additions and renovations of successive ages could be read in the solid handiwork of their diverse builders ; but the vestiges of antiquity left are, as already suggested, few; and, such as they are, confined to monuments in stone and brass. The visitor, however, is likely to devote greatest attention to THE SPIRE AND THE I'Oiall. Newstfati.] BYRON'S COIGN OF VANTAGE. 249 the churchyard, from which an incomparable prospect may be enjoyed. The hill upon which Harrow is built is an abruptly swelling bosom of land, rising from comparatively level ground on every side. On a superlatively clear day, such as probably few persons have found, thirteen counties, it is asserted, are within ken from the church tower, 'hen miles to the east, but normally obscured by haze and smoke, is Hyde Park; west and south-west — the glorious landscape commanded from the terrace seats outside the churchyard — Buckinghamshire and Berkshire lie outspread, rich in English homes, in woodland and pasturage; the Surrey hills change the prospect in another direction, with Knockholt Beeches, Hayes Common, and Shooter's Hill trending eastward. The churchyard brings us hack l>v a cherished tradition to the association of Harrow with Lord Byron. Within a few yards of the church tower is a flat monumental stone, to which the poet, two years before his death, in one of his letters to Murray, the publisher, thus referred: — "There is a, snot in the church- yard near the footpath, on the brow of the hill, looking towards Windsor, and a tomb under a large tree (bearing the name of Peaehie or Peachey) where I used to sit for hours and hours when a boy. This was my favourite spot." From sundry entries in his journals, and from his poems, we get glimpses of Byron at Harrow, engaging in the athletics of the playground. He recounts his IIAHHOW: VIEW FIIOM THE CHTjrtCHYARD. battles, and his prowess at cricket and swimming; yet he admits that he was "a most unpopular boy, but led latterly." We know also that for two years and G G 250 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES, [Haruow and a. half lie hated Harrow. From some of his contemporaries it may he gathered that at Harrow, as at Cambridge, he did not excel as a scholar. The spirit of poetry was burning within him, nevertheless, and the "favourite spot" in the church- yard doubtless was the throne of the dreamer, productive of more delight to Ins precocious genius than the rough contests of the playground, in which lie was physically unable to share with enthusiasm. Only a. few of the published poems were produced during the Harrow period, but there is one written the year after ;' j he left, directly bearing upon the stone slab, which was (.'ailed "Byron's fond by his comrades. The verse is well remembered : — "Again I behold where for limns I have ponder'd, As reclining at eve, on yon tombstone I lav, Or round the steep brow of the churchyard J wander'd To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray.'' This tomb was repaired, and enclosed in a strong iron railing — to remain a Byron memorial for all time — a few years since by some admirers of the poet, foremost of whom was Mr. John Murray, who was a witness of the burning of the Byron memoirs in his father's drawing-room, and who inherited, with the great publishing business of the Albemarle Street house, an admiration of the author of " ( lliilde I Earold." Byron carved his name along with the rest of the Harrovians in the fourth form room, the largest and most typical of the scattered buildings which make up the great public school at Harrow. A brass in the chancel arch of the church perpetuates the memory of John Lyon, yeoman, who died in 1592, ami of the manner in which he founded "a free grammer schoole in this p'she;" and two years before his death the founder, amongst his orders, statutes, and rules for the government of the school, announces his intention of providing, besides con- venient rooms for the schoolmaster and usher, " alsoe a large and convenient schoole house, with a chimney in it." The fourth form room, with its ancient masters seat, usher's chair and desk, plain benches and form, and almost black oak wainscoting, is Lyon's original "schoole house." ( >n the wainscoting Byron cut his name, and so in like manner did Peel, Palmerston, Lord Ripon, Lord Aberdeen, Lord Normanby, R. I!. Sheridan, and Sir W. .Tones. The building now used for school examinations was the old speech room, erected after Byron's time, and tin's was replaced by the handsome tercentenary memorial, a semi-circular building opposite the site of the old college chapel. The picturesque Gothic chapel at the northern end of High Street, with an aisle and stained-glass windows in memory of the Harrow bows killed in the Crimea, was built by Gilbert Scott in 1855, replacing a. temporary building; and in the Vauyhaii Library, atypical specimen id' Gilbert Scott's Decorated Gothic, are, amongst other reminders of the past, portraits of Byron and of his distinguished Ni:wsTFA,..j FALSE PROPHETS. 251 contemporaries. When, in after years, Byron was living in Italy he sent the body of his natural daughter to Harrow, with a marble tablet setting' forth, "In memory of Allegra, daughter of (I. (?. Lord Byron, who died at Bagna Cavallo in Italy, April 20, 1822, aged five years and three months. 'I shall go to her, but she shall not return to me.'' The interment, however, took place elsewhere. Lord Byron often made Newstead Abbey the poetical subject of happy and accurate descriptions of the building, grounds, and park; and it would lie easy to compile a chapter of quotations that, with very trifling links to indicate and explain recent changes, would still, for all practical purposes, serve as a. guide to the visitor of to-day. Walpole described Newstead before the poet-peer suc- ceeded to the inheritance. It was then in the hands of the wicked lord, who seemed to be deliberately bent upon ruining the estate; he destroyed its oaks, and, by a sudden whim butchered the deer so that the .shambles of Mansfield Market were at one time glutted with venison. Walpole writes loosely, speaking of the beautiful west window of the old abbey church as the east. But he stints not his admiration of the abbey and all its surroundings. An Edinburgh reviewer, suit- sequent to the publication of " English Bards," criticising the cynical critic Walpole, declares Newstead to lie one of the noblest mansions in England, and prophesies that, whatever may be its future fate, the Abbey must henceforth lie a memor- able abode. Byron evidently looked upon Newstead with the gloomiest of forebodings, dedicating it in impassioned verse to sure decay, to the whistling of hollow winds, to hemlock and thistle. The Edinburgh reviewer above quoted, quite as anxious probably as the poet to get as much literary effect as possible out of the dilapi- dations, conceived no future better than possession by vulgar owners. Happily these predictions have been splendidly falsified. Byron, in 1809, vowed in the strongest language that, come what might, Newstead and he would stand or fall together; that no pressure, present or future, should induce him to barter the least vestige of the inheritance ; and that if he could exchange Newstead Abbey for the first fortune in the country, he would reject the proposition. Three years later the place was put up to auction at Garraway's, and only £90,000 being bid, it was withdrawn. Next it was sold to a gentleman who failed in his contract, and Newstead once more came back to the poet. In 1818, however, Byron being then thirty years of age, it passed finally from the family which had held it for nearly three centuries, and was purchased by Colonel Wildman for some £100,000. This was the turniniypoint of the fortunes of Newstead. The new owner, who had sat on the same form with Byron at Harrow, was a gallant soldier; he had served with distinction in the Peninsula wars; and he devoted himself from the moment of taking possession to repairing, restoring, and beautifying Newstead, ABBEYS AND CHURCHES, [U \ui-.o\y AND without interfering with its cliaracter. To any but an enthusiast the work must have appeared hopeless. It is said that Colonel Wildman spent over a quarter of a million of money in the restoration and decoration of the abbey. On the >s>^i^f m^im ii'y*T""'i r " death id this gentleman the property was acquired by Mr. W. F. Webb, a famous African traveller, and by him, no less than by his predecessor, the good work has been continued, and the utmost care taken in the preservation of every object of interest associated with the unfortunate poet who loved it, and lost it. Thanks to Colonel Wildman and Mr. Webb, Newstead has risen nobly from its rains, and is, at the present moment, a lovely domain, with abbey and grounds in perfect preservation; further than this, the most liberal facilities are afforded to visitors desirous of seeing the rooms in which Byron slept, revelled, and worked, or of wandering amidst the gardens and groves trodden by his footsteps. The Newstead Abbey of to-day, notwithstanding the vast sums of money laid out in its improvement, is, to a greater extent than might be expected, very much what it, was when young Byron, a boy of ton years of age, bearing the title of sixth Baron, was taken to see it. The greatest change is that caused by the addition, at the south-west corner, of the square Sussex tower by Colonel Wildman, who named it after the Royal Duke whose equerry he was. Byron's own term— " Mixt Gothic " —very adequately touches oil' the rest of the architecture NinvsTEAD.] BYRON'S lloME. 253 of the front of the abbey. Some portions arc Early English Gothic of the best type, and the Norman tower at the end, though nol in harmony, seems to give a tone of completeness which was formerly wanting. At the oilier end of the facade are the stately remnants of the west front of the abbey church, the ivy climbing over the ancient stonework with graceful profusion. In approaching Newstcad by the high road from Nottingham, a drive of at least a mile intervenes between the lodge gates and the abbey, and a sharp descent and curve bring the traveller somewhat suddenly before the famous objects of Newstead, namely the lake, the mimic forts, the cascades, the picturesque window of the ruins, and the light and graceful architecture of the front. In his desire not to mar the scene with any incongruous addition, the present owner lias built a block of stables near the castellated affair jutting into the lake, of pure Gothic, and all in harmony with the surroundings. The ivy which grows plentifully at Newstead has already given an air of romantic antiquity to buildings erected within thirty years. Entrance to the pile is obtained through a small strong oaken door, upon which hangs an antique Italian knocker. The crypt of the old abbey is gloomy enough, and now and for the remainder of the time spent under the groined roofs, and amidst long echoing corridors, narrow, winding stone staircases, grim galleries and passages, the explanation of all the ghost legends attached to Newstead must be obvious. In the hall, amidst the twelfth century masonry of the crypt, are arranged on the floor various trophies of Mr. Webb's prowess amongst the game of Africa, with fishing-rods and other modern articles of the chase, and, in many a corridor, cases of brilliantly plumaged birds, shot by the present owner in Africa and India, are intermingled with relics of the Middle Ages. Presently you are conducted to Byron's bed-room and dressing-room, where everything remains as it was left by the poet. What few habitable rooms were in the abbey during his brief ownership were in this portion; the rest were barely weather proof. There still are the Byron bedstead, with its gilt and coroneted posts, the dressing-table, and chairs; the portrait of Fox; of Joe Murray, the favourite factotum, with the churchwarden pipe painted in at his own desire; and the portrait of a. portly gentleman, who turns out to lie Jackson, the prize-tighter. Byron wisely chose this bed-room, with its recessed window ami magnificent view to the west. Again and again in his poetry lie betrays inspiration drawn from this particular prospect — the lake, in which lie swam, sailed, and tested the courage of his dog Boatswain ; the miniature fortress which the mad lord, who butchered the deer, built to amuse him what time he put his toy fleet in action; the cascade making music near the house; the swelling wooded knoll across the water in the direction of Annesley, where Mary Chaworth lived. With the '254 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Hahbow and Newstead. tumbling water and shrubbery close to the house, and rookeries all around, the stillest night would give to the poet in Ins bed mysterious sounds innumerable. The library now shown was not used by Byron as such, and some suppose that it was originally an aisle of the chapel. Many valuable and ancient pieces of furniture and paintings arc here; the abbey throughout, indeed, is peculiarly rich in well-preserved furniture, paintings, and decorations of the Stuart period. The tapestry in the room used once by Charles II., and in other .apartments, was brought by Colonel Wildman from Spain after the Peninsula war. There are few old country houses in England offering such perfect examples of carved oak panelling and mantelpieces. Edward III., if not Edward I., and Henry VII. visited Xewstead Abbey in the olden times, when the abbots ruled; and the apartments they are supposed to have used, down to the minutest detail of ornamentation, have been carefully preserved by Colonel Wildman and Mr. AY. F. Webb. The south corridor has been largely devoted by Mr. Webb to the relics of Livingstone and Stanley. The visitors arc, towards the close of their round of the abbey, shown the room in which Livingstone; on his last stay in England, wrote his work on the Zambesi, and in the corridor the battered consular cup he wore at the time of his death is preserved. At the other end of the corridor — cases of gorgeous Himalayan birds shot by Mr. Webb intervening — are the Byron relics, and amongst them the piece of beech tree upon which Byron, on his last visit to the abbey ('20th September, 1814), carved his name and thai of his sister Augusta. A small revolving table is pointed out as that upon which the poet wrote his " English Bards" and part of " Childe Harold." Boxing gloves, foils, candlesticks, inkstand, the arms worn in Greece, and the sumptuously-bound copv of the early poems, recall the stormy career of the peer whose memory has been so sacredly preserved by his successors in the ownership of Xewstead Abbey. 'The largest rooms at Xewstead are the Grand Saloon and the Great Dining Hall, now richly furnished and decorated, but in Byron's time wreck and ruin. The breakfast- room, once the Lord Abbot's parlour, was used by Byron as a dining-room. The cloisters of Xewstead are famous for their excellent condition, and in the quadrangle still plays the old Gothic fountain, brought into the court at some remote time from the front of the abbey. The chapel, formerly the chapter- house, has been exquisitely restored and decorated by Mi'. Webb in the Early English Style. In the gardens, which are liberally maintained, the same anxiety lias been manifested as in the inferior to cherish every memorial of Byron. The oak he planted; Boatswain's tomb, in which at one time the poet himself wished to be buried, between the dog and Joe Murray; and the satyr's and devil's woods, which belong rather to the wicked lord, are amongst the notable sights outside the abbey. \ht a \\ . Senior. S T A M F R I) AND 11 A T F J E L D THE CRAVES OP THE CECILS. .-JSfifiU. T71EW towns in England possess more allurements for lovers of the «^"a(i^A , -'" i -^^\;.r/ita«3\ B 1 ' fi|lMl$l|$ relics of olden day; s than Stamford. Its churches are numerous 5B.3L, for the size of the town, and three or four are of exceptional in- terest or beauty. Close at hand is the graceful ruin of St. Leonard's Priory, and its streets abound in examples, more or less perfect, of domestic architecture, often very picturesque, which range over full four centuries. But one church, that of St. Martin, the only one A ™:„,;" on the right hank of the SALISBURY. . river \\ ellanu, possesses an interest, apart from its architec- ture, as the burial place of the elder branch id' the Cecils, and id' the illustrious founder of the family. The town of Stamford stands, as indicated, on sloping ground upon the left bank of the Wellancl, and on the edge of the county of Lin- coln. On the Northamptonshire side the ground slopes upwards to the plateau, crowned by the woods and lawns of Burghley Lark. Notwith- standing the division of the counties, there is a u f orebridge " quarter of some size; and the main street is part of the '-Great North Road," bordered on either side by picturesque houses, old and new. It passes the George, an ancient hotel, still as ever a comfortable halting- place ; half-way up the acclivity the tower id' St. Martin's Church varies pleasantly the domestic architecture. Then at the boundary of the park the houses cease, and after a. short distance we arrive at the grand Elizabethan gateway, not unworthy of the palace to which it gives admission. Lut it is only of the last home of the (Veils that we must now speak. St. Martin's Church was built by John bussed, Bishop of Lincoln, about the year 1482, on the site of one (.'reeled in the twelfth century by an Abbot of Peterborough, HATFIELD. 256 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES [Stamfobd and ami destroyed in the Lancastrian Avars. It is a good example of the work of the period, though, as visual, a little cold and monotonous in design; the tower, especially its belfry stage, being the best feature. The church lias aisles, the northern being prolonged as far as the east wall id' the chancel, the southern stopping one bay short. In the year 1864 an addition was made to the eastern part of the north aisle, and the whole now forms tin; mortuary chapel of the Cecil family. ( )f their monuments, however, only three call fur special notice. The first, though not the eldest, is a vast marble pile erected against the north wall, in com- memoration of John, Earl of Exeter, who died in the year 1700, and of Ins countess. They are sculptured in half-reclining postures; a figure standing on the one side represents Minerva, that on tin; other, the "Goddess of the Arts and Sciences." It is an interesting example id' the pagan spirit which pervaded that period, and of how much time, skill, and money may be spent in producing a thoroughly unpleasing result. Against the east wall is a mural monument in alabaster and marble, representing Richard Cecil,* and his wife, the father and mother of the founder of Burghlcv House, kneeling in prayer on either side id* a desk. The son's monument stands on the north side of the communion table, separating the so-called sacrarium from the above-named chapel; a worthy memorial of one of the greatest in an age fruitful in great men. It is built of Italian marble and alabaster; groups of columns resting on a massive pedestal support on arches a lofty canopy, which rises stage above stage. Beneath this is an altar-tomb, on which lies the effigy of the Lord Treasurer. lie is clad in a suit of armour, over which he wears the crimson mantle of the Order of the (darter, and holds in his hand his wand of office. One cannot call the monument beautiful. Yet in this, as in many other tombs creeled about this epoch in our history, though the singular grace of the mediaeval altar-tomb and chantry is wanting, there is something very attractive in the mingled quaintness of design and richness of ornamentation. The style is, to a considerable extent, a- natural one. A Renaissance influence dominated the artist's mind, but he had not lost- all sympathy with the works of his mediaeval predecessors. In the Lord Treasurer's tomb there is no actual reproduction of a. "Gothic" feature, yet the structure, as a whole, recalls the ancient, models. The recumbent figure in its stately repose, is inspired l>y the spirit of mediaeval art. In this monu- ment and in that of the fifth Earl the dominant sentiments of two reigns of two queens are expressed in stone. One speaks of an age when to fear God and do righteously was supposed to he a. mark of true nobility; the other of an aye when such things became the lowly in rank, but were works of super- erogation in a "person of quality." * He died in 1553, .-mil is buried .-it St. Margarot's, Westminster. I-Iatfield.] GliEAT AND WISE. 257 In noplace docs the me- mory of this great and wise man rise up b c fore the mind more vi- vidly than in t li e q u i e t church, in the presence of his grave. True, thenoblehouse which he built is still the glory of the hbouring )axk, but here the memories of gene- rations of Cecils ren- der that of their ancestor less distinct. In the still abode of the dead he domi- nates over those who from time to time have come to share his resting-place. Cecil's whole history is full of interest, especially in its points of difference from our own times. lie had the advantage of a good start in life, for his father was Master of the Robes to Henry VIII. ; nevertheless, he was to a considerable extent the maker of his own fortunes. ii ii TUB LOUD TKEASl'REK S TOMB, STAUFUKD. 25S ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stamford and At school and at college — St. John's, Cambridge — lie was noted as an assiduous student, and was especially distinguished for Ins knowledge of Greek. His talents brought him into notice at Court. In those days early success in literature and science was a surer pathway to distinction, whether in Church or in State, than it lias hern for the last century. The House of Commons, which, we may presume, reflects the national mind, docs not like "philo- sophers," as we have heen told on good authority ; that is to say, it strongly objects to anyone who is a little more long-sighted than the multitude, who cares more for truth than for popularity, prefers sound reasoning to windy clap-trap, and ventures to regard, not only the immediate, but also the ulti- mate consequences of action. However, in those old days, whatever their faults might be, there was this good, that a sound education and thoughtful mind were worth more than a glib tongue and a power of " gushing," so that young Cecil was speedily placed in positions of trust, and was enabled to win his spurs. He was for a time involved in the fall of the Lord Protector Somerset, and this episode appears to be one of the least creditable in his career, for caution seems to have prevailed over generous feeling. Though firm in his attachment to the reformed faith, Cecil managed to avoid persecution during the reign of Mary, but was, of course, compelled to resign all his offices. Still, as a knight of the shire, he took an active part in public affairs, being one of the leaders of the Opposition, as it would now be termed, and, as the Queen's health failed, he entered into private correspondence with the Princess Elizabeth. When she succeeded to the crown he was at once recognised as her chief advisor. In this capacity — first as Secretary of State, afterwards as Lord Iliofi Treasurer — he con- tinued until his death, at the age of seventy-eight. What a life — anxious, vet gratifying; full of trials, yet full of successes — was then closed! For forty years it had been his chief work to weld together in one a disunited nation, to check the extravagancies of Protestants and to frustrate the plots of Popish fanatics, to defeat the intrigues of Scotland, to counteract the wiles of Pome, and to shatter the Armada of Spain. This would have been a hard task in any case; it was not made easier by his somewhat imperious and occasionally whimsical mistress. But Elizabeth, whatever may have been her detects, was worthy to be a Queen, and, among other great qualities, possessed this — that she could recognise a wise man, and trusted him when she hail found him. So, notwith- standing all difficulties, Cecil saw much of his work successfully accomplished, and closed his eyes on a. golden epoch in the history of England. The reign of Elizabeth, as has been remarked, was fruitful in great men. It had never been equalled before; it has never been surpassed since. And among the greatest of these great ones was William Cecil, first Baron Burghley, of whom it has been well said:— "In every branch of his policy, whether in relation to religion when Hat™,,,] A DISTINGUISHED FAMILY. 259 this formed so materia] a part of European affairs, the internal government of England, or her foreign policy, he was guided by fixed and well-grounded principles, and no act of his administration appears to have been produced by motives of temporary expediency only, but to have formed a part of a consistent and well-considered plan." William Cecil left two sons. The elder, and less distinguished, inherited his estate at Stamford, and was created Earl of Exeter by James f. The second, Robert, succeeded to his fathers position in the State, was raised, simultaneously with his brother, to the Peerage as Earl of Salisbury, and became the founder of the other branch of the Cecils to whose burial-place we now turn. To this son the first lord had left his mansion at Theobalds, but he exchanged it with King James for Hatfield, an old royal palace, and there built himself the stately mansion which has ever since been the home of his descendants. Hat- field had, however, already some slight connection with the fortunes of his family, for under one of its oaks the Princess Elizabeth obtained the news of her sister's death, and in the old hall, on the following Sunday, she received the homage of the Privy Council and nominated William Cecil as Secretary. The Jacobean mansion occupies the summit of a plateau. On the western side the ground shelves down, hero somewhat steeply, there more gently, towards the lower and more level ground which is now traversed by the Great Northern Railway. The little town extends down the slope from the old palace gates to the streamlet in the valley below, the church standing on the higher part. On the right-hand side of the street which leads up to the palace the churchyard interrupts the houses. ft is of ample size, and is bordered by old trees. The church itself is cruciform in plan, and the greater portion dates from the later years of the fourteenth or the earlier years of the fifteenth centuiy; but there has been so much rebuilding and restoration that it is difficult to be certain about the age of many parts. Something - , however, of a yet earlier church remains, for there is a Norman doorway in the south transept, and opposite to it an Early English window, now blocked up. The shingle-covered spire, which adds much to the picturesqueness both of church and of town, is a compara- tively modern feature, being the gift of the late Marquis ; while a very extensive restoration and a partial rebuilding was carried out by the present Marquis about the year 1871. It is, however, as a burying-place that the church is of most interest. Besides the mortuary chapel of the Cecils, of whom we shall speak directly, there are some curious monuments in the Brockett Chapel, which is placed east of the south transept, commemorating, as the name implies, former owners of Brockett Hall. These arc not very old, for they date from the sixteenth and later centuries, but they are quaint in style, and some of the inscriptions are curious. 260 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Stamfoiu. and Hatfield. The Cecils are interred beneath a spacious mortuary chapel on the northern side of the chancel, erected in the year 1618 by William, second Earl of Salisbury, and restored by the present Marquis.* It is thus an interesting example of Jacobean architecture with suitable modern ornamentation. The steps leading to the sacrarium in the chancel are prolonged into this chapel, so that its floor is divided into two stages. The lower is occupied by seats for the family and household; in the centre of the upper part is the monument of the first Earl. Its base is formed of black marble; on this lies a skeleton, and at the four corners are figures representing the four cardinal virtues. These support a great slab of black marble, on which lies the Earl's effigy. He wears his official robe, and bears in his hand the wand of the Lord High Treasurer. The figures are all of white marble. This monument, which is the work of Simon Basyll, is extremely interesting when compared with that of the father at Stamford. Probably they do not differ more than about twenty years in date, yet the Hatfield monument is much more distinctly a work of the Renaissance. Of this the general design and free execution, the strong contrast of colour in the materials, the tabledike form of the monument, and especially the allegorical figures, are wholly indicative; but the pose of the effigy, and, most of all, the skeleton below, arc reminiscences of the mediaeval spirit. The chapel does not contain any other monuments of importance, but two effigies of older date have been brought hither from the Brockett Chapel and laid upon the floor. The wrought-iron gates and railing of Italian workman- ship, which enclose the chapel, are well worth}- of notice, and some of the modern inlaid work is excellent. The history of the son commemorated by so stately a monument was, unhappily, far more brief than that of the father. He inherited his mental power, but not his vigorous health. He was short of stature and almost deformed in person; but the "little man" was trusted by Elizabeth no less than his father, and secured the confidence of her sapient successor. Perhaps, had his life been spared, he might have prevented his master from sowing the seed of future troubles, but shortly after the completion of Hatfield House his health failed, and he died at Marlborough on his return from drinking the waters of Bath. The Cecils, especially the younger branch, are an example of hereditary talent. In full nine generations there has been but one fool — the fourth Earl, "whose sluggish body was the abode of an equally sluggish mind 1 ' — while several inheritors of the title have been men of exceptional ability. Among these, no one, whatever his political opinions, can refuse to recognise the present Marquis of Salisbury. rp & B()NNKV _ * A strip of ground adjacent to the old palace lias recently been added to the east side of the churchyard, and will in future be used as the burial-place of the family. GREAT MALVERN: THE PRIORY CHURCH AND THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. GREAT MALVERN AND TEWKESBURY. HILL SIDE AND LIVER BRINK. rpiTE Priory Church of Great Malvern, often miscalled "Abbey," stands on the J- eastern slope of the Malvern Hills, with the Worcestershire Beacon and North Hill rising behind it. It is very seldom that so line a church is found in the immediate proximity of so line a range of hills. From the west it is ap- proached by two long flights of steps, commanding a magnificent view of the northern side and of the stately central tower. The southern transept and the lady chapel (which extended on a lower level than the chancel to the hedge now bounding the churchyard) were demolished when the Priory was suppressed. Of the other monastic buildings, only the gateway, which admitted into the precincts of the monastery, remains ; it is of about the same date as the chancel, and very near the west end of the church. Some fragments of the stonework of the refectory have been preserved. The priory (Benedictine) was founded in the eleventh century, soon after the Conquest. A hermit here, Aldwine, desiring to visit the Holy Land, consulted Wulstan, the good Bishop of Worcester, and was advised by him to form a ccenobitic community of the solitaries* in Malvern Chase, instead of making his pilgrimage. The priory was subject to the abbey of Westminster, the dean and chapter of which still retain property in the diocese; but there were frequent disputes about the control of it between the abbey and the see of Worcester. In the peace which followed the Wars of the Roses, the church was rebuilt under the skilful guidance of Sir Reginald Bray — a favourite counsellor of Henry VII., and designer of the chapel named after Henry in AVestminstcr Abbey — the Norman columns in the nave being left as the)' were. Apparently it was intended to span the choir with a vaulting of stone; probably the wooden roof was substituted for economy's sake. The commencement of this vaulting is seen on either side. Sir Reginald is represented with his pupil, Prince Arthur, in the north window of the transept. At the Reformation, Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, inter- ceded strenuously with King Henry for the priory, that it should he made a school, and bore his testimony to the good character of the prior and the brethren. But it w r as in vain. The priory was confiscated, to the advantage of the Knotsfords and others. The whole church would have been destroyed f had not the parishioners purchased it for £300, to be their parish church, in place of a much smaller building then standing to the north of the priory church. In 1852 the priory church, having lapsed into a deplorable condition, Avas thoroughly repaired at great expense under * Some fugitives from Deerhurst, when the monastery there was sacked by Danes, are said to have settled in the upper part of the wild forest, which stretched from the hills to the Severn, f Probably much damage was done then to the painted glass. 262 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Gkeat Malvern the direction of Sir Gr. Gr. Scott. The porch, forming' the north-west entrance, is lofty and spacious, of the time of Henry VII.; over tins is the " parvisum," the old vestry, approached by a winding stone staircase. The special charm of the interior is in its brightness and cheerfulness, owing to the great size of the windows at each end and in the clerestory. The height, too, of the building, and the loftiness of the chancel arch, while enhancing the solemnity of the interior, prevent what would be tin.' depressing effect of the low, massive Norman piers. From the Norman font at the west end the view is magnificent. The proportions are excellent: six bays in the nave, three in the chancel; there is no chancel screen to interrupt the view. The arches in the nave are singularly beautiful in their simplicity — semi- circular, and quite unadorned with mouldings, with the exception of the last capital eastward on the math, which seems to show that the monks began to embellish, but stopped immediately. A narrow arched recess, five or six feet from the ground in the pillar nearest the porch, was perhaps for holy water. The smaller aisle, with a doorway, now closed, which marks the entrance into the cloisters of the priory, retains its original dimensions. The northern aisle is wider. The three very small apertures in the "western wall were probably in a gallery, to enable the prior, or some other official, to look down into the nave. There are traces of Norman work in the vestry behind the organ, as well as in the south aisle of the nave, and in a beautiful arch over the dour from the southern aisle into the vestrv. As one passes from the nave under the tower into the chancel, the contrast of style is remarkable. The walls are panelled with Perpendicular tracery; the slender shafts rise like pines from floor to ceiling. It is supposed, from some indications in the masonry, that the Norman tower fell, as at Gloucester and elsewhere, those ponderous structures being especially liable to such a catas- trophe. Under the lower part of the tower on the north side are placed the lectern (an eagle in brass by Hardman, in memory of the late General Eardley Wilmot), the reading desk and the pulpit, both of carved oak. The old monastic stalls arc very curious, and resemble those of Worcester Cathedral in the grotesque figures on the misereres. Several gently sloping steps lead up to the sacrarium, which is fenced by a low brass rail of rich workmanship: two doors (an unusual thing), one north, one south of the Holy Table, admit through the reredos into a little sacristy, from which the prior or his deputy could see through three "hagioscopes" into the chapel. A very beautiful mosaic of the kind which may still be seen in the house of the Faun at Pompeii, forms the centre of the reredos. It was made by Messrs. Powell, Whitefriars, and is the munificent gift of the Rev. F. Peek, of Lyme Regis. It represents the Holy Family, with the Magi on the one side and TawxEsmmy.] " STORIED WINDOWS RICHLY BIGHT:' 203 and. the shepherds mi the other. The details show much care and thought. At each end is mosaic scroll-work, with the emblematic com and grapes; beyond these are some of the old tiles. The south aisle of the choir is called St. Anne's Chapel,* of the same date as the choir. The side windows are filled with old Belgian giass representing some of the events recorded in the Book of Genesis and the accompaniments of the Passion of our Lord. The drawing of the figures is grotesque, but the colours are gorgeous, especially the ruby and purple. The chapel is used as a choir vestry, and for lectures, &c. A curious old folio, the Prayer Book with commen- tary, is chained to an oak desk. The north choir aisle is called the Jesus Chapel. Few churches or cathedrals in England are so rich in old painted glass. The cast window is made up of fragments arranged promiscuously, but the effect is very good. The clerestory windows tell the story of the foundation of the priory. In the transept window, above the kneeling figures of Prince Arthur and his tutor, are two exquisite groups, one of the Nativity and one of the Visitation; above these is the Feast at Cana. In many of the windows are angels, f as if the church, dedicated originally to St. Mary the Virgin, had been rededicated, possibly after civil strife or bloodshed within its walls, to St. Michael and the Holy Angels. From the shape of many of the windows, it seems that the architect had proposed making them even larger than they are, but had been restrained by fears of instability. There arc a few old monuments: one in St. Anne's Chapel of Prior Waleher, noted in his day for learning and science ; a recumbent figure of a knight of the name of Corbet, north of the sacrarium ; and several on the south side be- longing to the Knotsford family ; there is also in the Jesus ( Jhapol a very grace- ful representation in stone of a Mrs. Thompson. There are memorial-brasses of the Rev. Gr. Fisk, vicar, in the nave; of F. Chance, Esq., in the transept; of the Rev. J. Dyson in the chapel. Under the west window is a costly memorial, by Scott, of Sir II. Lambert, Bart., consisting of an elaborate canopy in stone over a. mural brass, with the Evangelists on either side. The organ, by Nicholson, is a very fine instrument. The noble abbey of Tewkesbury is rich in reminiscences of the past. The name is probably from Theoc, a missionary monk, who is said to have Christian- ised this corner of Mercia subsequently to the conversion of the rest of the midland kingdom. It has been supposed, from his name, that he was a Briton; but the Britons generally held aloof from intercourse, even in this way, with the in- vaders. The legendary story of the foundation of the abbey by the brothers * The famous spring mi the hill-sido is palled St. Anne's Well, f These have the body covered with plumage, not the wings only. >64 ABBEYS AND CHUBGEE8. [Great Malvern and Odclo and Doddo, Dukes of Mercia, is apocryphal; and, perhaps, was suggested by the names of Earl Dudda in the eighth century, and of Earl Odda in the eleventh. Originally a "cell" or dependency of Cranbourn Abbey in Dorset- shire, the monastery here became an abbey, and shortly before the Conquest the relative position of Tewkesbury and Cranbourn was reversed. Robert Fitz-Hamon, kinsman of William Rufus, "Lord of Gloucester, etc. etc.," was a great benefactor to the abbey; lie commenced the rebuilding of the church, which was completed by Earl Robert of Gloucester, brother of the Empress Maude, a great church-builder in his day. In 1123 the church was dedicated in honour of St. Mary the Virgin; of this building great portions remain now. The monastery flourished under the fostering care of the De Clares,'* the Despensers, the Beauchamps, etc., till the Dissolution. Though not mitred, the abbots were often summoned to Parliament. The abbey was rededi- cated in 1239 by the famous Bishop Walter de Cantilupe, after additions and alterations. The choir was rebuilt about 1350, probably to introduce the new style of architecture then coming into vogue. Henry VI., always munificent to religious foundations, gave to the abbey the patronage of Deerhurst Priory, in the immediate neighbourhood, the oldest monastery in this part of England. After the battle of Tewkesbury, the abbot, standing at the great door of the church, crucifix in hand, like Ambrose at Milan, repelled Edward IV. pursuing fugitives into the sanctuary. The revenues of this powerful and wealthy abbey were about £40,000 of our money when it fell into the rapacious hands of Henry VIII. and his courtiers in 1539. It was the last in the county to be surrendered; the abbot, Wakeman, was made Bishop of Gloucester; the monks (only 38 remained) were pensioned. The domestic offices were preserved; the conven- tual for the most part destroyed. The Gate House, a remarkable edifice, about forty feet high, near the west end of the church, is standing now, with some buildings near the Avon. There is a line oriel window in the "Abbey House" (probably the infirmary), near the west end. The nave of the church was already in use as the parish church ; the rest of the structure was rescued by the parishioners from demolition for £483. After undergoing, from time to time, unsightly reparations in the last century and in the early part of this, the church has now been thoroughly * The "Red Earl.'' late in the thirteenth century, was a De Clare. MISERERE, MALVERN. Tewkesbury.] THE NORMAN TOWER. 265 restored at great expense ; Sir G. G. Scott superintended the work in its commencement. The old saying " As sure as God is in Gloucestershire " was meant to signify TEWKE.SBUKY : THE WEST FHONT. tlie number and importance of monastic institutions in that county. Tewkesbury had rank among the foremost. The site is remarkable; the two great rivers, Severn and Avon, with two tributary streams, meeting here, almost insulate the town. The church is cruciform, with apsidal chapels grouping themselves, as at Westminster, round the choir. In general character, as might be expected, it resembles Gloucester Cathedral and Pershorc Abbey Church. Almost every style of our English Gothic is represented. The total length is 286 feet. The nave is 1G5 feet by 110 ; the transepts are 120 by 33. The height of the nave is 5S feet; of the tower, 132. The Lady Chapel was 100 feet long, due east of the choir; it, as well as the cloisters, has been demolished. Only three English churches, not cathedrals, are longer. This church comes next in size to Hereford Cathedral ; the nave would stand within the nave of Gloucester, it is said, as one box within another. The tower, which is Norman except the battlement and turrets, rests on four huge piers; the interior of it is rich in ornamentation, and resembles the tower of Pershorc Abbey Church. It was originally a "lantern tower," and was closed in order, perhaps, to render the voice more audible. A wooden spire, erected on i i 206 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Great Malveiw and Tswrasmmir. the tower by Robert, the celebrated Earl of Gloucester already mentioned, fell on Easter Day, 1559. There are eight bells and chimes to the clock. The campanile or bell-tower, a building of no great pretensions, was pulled down in 1813.* The west front, with a lofty and spacious arch in a dee}) recess (62 feet by 34), is not unworthy to be named with the west fronts of Lincoln and Peter- borough. The design appears to have been executed imperfectly. The porch is very plain. The west window was destroyed by a storm in 1661. The nave is Norman, with fourteen columns unusually tall, and with a triforium dwarfed in proportion. In the choir, on the contrary, the columns are short, surmounted by large windows. The font is partly old. The pulpit, octagonal, in stone, was given in 1881. The nave is vaulted with stone, richly groined and sculptured; the bosses have been regilt and recoloured under the direction of Mr. Gambier Parry, of Highnam Court, Gloucestershire. Probably the stonework replaced an original roof of wood. As in the "stan/.e" of the Vatican, a mirror is useful in enabling one to appreciate the beauty of it. The choir, with a. sexagonal termination, is surrounded by an "ambulatory" or " procession-path. ,1 The tracery of the roof is very hue. The most interesting of the chantries, which cluster round the choir, are, on the north, the " Warwick chapel" (14'-'1), and, adjoining it eastward, the "Founder's chapel" (1397) and the chapel of St. Mary Magdalene (1439). The exquisite erection now used as the choir-vestry is supposed by some to have been the chapter-house, but was probably a chapel with ante-chapel. Over this was the treasury of the monastery. The sedilia and the monks 1 stalls, with their misereres curiously carved, are note- worthy. The history of the organ is remarkable. It Mas moved from Magdalen College, Oxford, to Hampton Court by Cromwell, and finally placed here in 1737. The rose-window, at the east end, is hue, and contains portraits of benefactors in their baronial costumes. There are many interesting monuments. The oldest is of Abbot Alan, friend of Becket, prior of Canterbury before coming here. There are monuments also of other abbots, with a cenotaph of Wakeman, tin; last of them, constructed for him at his request dining his lifetime. Then there are a graceful alabaster monument of Sir Guv de Brien (Brienne, Normandy), and a kneeling figure in armour, Sir E. Despenser. In 17!)<> a brass was laid in the door in memory of Prince Edward, murdered here after the battle (1471). The Duke of Somerset, who was executed at Tewkesbury after the battle, and Lord Wenlock, who was killed in the fight, are interred here; also the Duke of Clarence, "false, fleeting, perjured Clarence," with his duchess. The general effect of the interior of the church is stately but sombre. I. Gregory Smith. * By some accounts in 1817. D U N S T E R A N D y\ R U N D E L SERVING TWO MASTERS. HE past history of our parish churches is a varied one. In many cases — indeed in most — they have been built for the use of the community among which they stand. They have grown with its growth; have been enlarged or reconstructed as cir- cumstances required. Some, however, have been built as an appendage to, or perhaps we should rather say as the nucleus of, a religious foundation. Into this the people of the hamlet which usually sprang up about its gates, most of them corrodiers or servitors of some sort, were only admitted to worship as a kind of favour, not as a legal right. In a third case, how- ever, the church discharged a double debt — it served two masters, the con- fraternity worshipping in one part, the parishioners in the other, and of this divided ownership many of our churches still bear traces. Indeed, as Professor E, A. Freeman remarks,* "our monastic and large collegiate churches may be divided into two classes: those simply and wholly designed for the monastic or collegiate fraternity, and those which at the same time discharged the func- tion of ordinary parish churches. In the generality of these latter cases, the eastern part, or the choir, belonged to the monks, the western part, or the nave, to the people. In fact, they often formed, to all intents and purposes, two distinct churches, and the two parts were often spoken of distinctky as the parish church and the abbey or priory church. There was often a complete barrier between the two, and the people had what may be called their own high altar at the east end of the nave." When the monasteries were suppressed, the eastern portion of the church, being as fully a possession of the fraternity as any separate chapel within the convent gates, became the exclusive property of the king, or of the person to whom he granted their messuages and tenements. In that case its doom was commonly sealed, especially where the people either had no right in the build- ing, or were but few in number and poor in purse. Sometimes it was left to fall down from mere neglect and the effect of time; more often the work of destruction was immediate. The useless fabrics were converted into money, and the noblest works of medhcval art were sold as old building materials; stone, timber, lead, and glass being cleared away with no more scruple or * Somersetshire) Archaeological ami Natural History Society, Vol. VI., p. 1. 268 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Dl-kstee and compunction, though with less ease of performance, than if they had been the work of some jerry-builder of the present century. Thus perished Netley and Beaulieu, Glastonbury and Tin tern, Furness and Fountains, with many another noble structure, whose battered ruins still protest against the Vandalism which permitted their destruction, and the many evil deeds by which the English Reformation was marred. For the same reason, not a few of our parish churches are only fragments, one-half of the mediaeval struc- ture having been destroyed, and in this case it is generally the nave which has remained. The parishioners retained their right to the part in which they had always worshipped; the courtier to whom the choir had been granted, if he did not actually pull it down to the ground, sold all that could be readily converted into money, and then left the bare, roofless walls to battle with the elements. Thus it has happened at Malmesbury and Fsk, at Chepstow and Fotheringay. In some cases, however, either by a rare liberality on the part of the new owner, as at Dorchester, or by the public spirit of the people, as at Tewkesbury, the monastic part was added to the parochial, and the whole became one church. A few churches, however, yet remain where the distinction of ownership is neither indicated by the destruction of one portion of the building, nor has it been obliterated by subsequent changes, as in the last-mentioned churches, but Avhere it is still clearly indicated by the internal arrangement of the building. Of these cases, now rare, we will take two examples — one where the building has become, in effect, a single parish church, the other where the divided ownership yet continues, and is miserably conspicuous to the eye of the most casual visitor. Dunster Church, in Somersetshire, is our first instance, though an altera- tion in the arrangements, effected during a restoration a few years since — an alteration in many respects to be regretted — has rendered its testimony to a divided ownership less clear than it was formerly. Dunster is a singularly picturesque old-world village, just the spot where memorials of the past would linger on with little change till they withered before the steam-blast of the nine- teenth century. Between the rugged Brendon Hills and the south coast of the Bristol Channel there is a level strath, a little to the west of Minehead, which was formerly, no doubt, beneath the waters of the sea. From this the hills rose steeply, clad with forest or heather, and the village of Dunster clusters about a little brook which issues from their recesses. One outlying knoll projects like a bastion from the main mass. On this "tor'' no doubt some British chief placed his "dun" or hill-fort, and the Norman De Mohun, when he came, made it ulti- mately the site of his castle. The picturesque old home of the Luttrells, the successors of the De Mohuns in the ownership, has its own tale of moving AUUNDEL.] ILL-DEFINED RIGHTS. 2G9 incidents, but of those we cannot tell ; we must hasten to the church. This stands in the town at a lower level than the castle. A church lias long occupied this site, for the foundation of the priory dates soon after the Norman Conquest, whilst the oldest part of the castle was built in the reign of Stephen. Very little, however, is left of the Norman structure. The greater part is of much later date. Externally it appears to he a rather long and low Perpendicular church, somewhat plain and heavy in style, with a central tower of the usual Somersetshire pattern, though it is by no moans a striking example of its kind. Internally it is an exceptionally interesting church, which has preserved some woodwork of remarkable beauty. Wo will describe the church as it was when its history was written by Professor Freeman, because the peculiarities in its arrangements will thus be more readily understood. There was, as we have said, formerly a Norman church on this site, of which some traces still remain in the western arch of the central tower, and at the west end. In the fifteenth century the church appears to have had a Norman nave and aisles, a massive lantern tower at the crossing of the transepts, and an eastern limb without aisles, but with side- chapels or apses attached to the east walls of the transepts. The old church was occupied by the monks of the adjoining priory and by the parishioners of DUNSTER : CHURCH AND CAsTLE. Dunster town, and disputes as to rights and ownership arose towards the end of the century between the Prior and monks, on the one hand, and the vicar and parishioners on the other. These were at last referred for award to the 270 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Duksebb and Abbot of Glastonbury, who decreed that the hitter should leave the choir wholly to the monks, and make their own choir under the nave. In consequence of this award the parishioners rebuilt the nave. Fortunately the quarrel did not proceed so far as at Wymondham, in Norfolk, where, in consequence of similar disputes, the church was practically cut in two, the monks building a. tower at the west of the choir which insulated it from the nave, while the parishioners presently added to the latter a western tower, so that the church underwent what biologists call multiplication by fission. At Dunster, however, a modus vivendi was arrived at; the parishioners rebuilt their nave, placed their own high altar under the western tower-arch, and erected a magnificent rood-loft. r I nis cuts off the two bays west of the tower, extends across both the nave and the aisles, and is approached by an exterior turret. The choir became the priory chapel, cut off by another screen, under the eastern tower-arch, from the transepts and crossing, which thus served the purpose of an ante-chapel, having a direct communication with the priory buildings on the north side of the church." Such was the old arrangement, which continued down to our own days, but was somewhat modified a few years since, when the church was restored, by placing the communion-table against the last-named screen, so that the transepts are now incorporated into what may be called the ritual choir. The chancel, however, east of this screen still forms a distinct chapel, seated, and with its own altar. Aisles of two bays each were added bv the monks to their choir, so that, although parts of the earlier structure remain, the general effect of the church is that of a late Perpendicular building. The woodwork generally in the roofs and fittings, wherever the early work remains, is good, while that of the great rood-screen is grand even for Somersetshire. Some old pavement of encaustic tiles is to be seen in the chantry of the De Mohuns; there are tombs of the Luttrells, but, on the whole, the monuments remaining in the church are less numerous ami less interesting than might have been expected under the circumstances. The other instance which we have chosen is Arundel, in Sussex, well known for the great castle of the Dukes of Norfolk, which crowns the slope above the Arum Some eight centuries since there existed in Arundel the parochial chapel of St. Nicholas and the chapel of St. Martin in the keep of the castle. About this time, in the year 1094, the Priory of Arundel was founded, and after various changes, into which it is needless to enter, the rectory was annexed to it by William de Albini in 1178. The parochial and conventual churches were thus united. The priory was suppressed about the year 1381, the College of St. George, founded at first on the south-eastern side of the castle, was trans- ferred thither, and a. new college built adjacent to the Church of St. Nicholas, * The same arrangement exists at- the Abbaye aux Dames, Cam. Arundel.] AN ARTILLERY DUEL. 271 the statutes of which are dated in the year 1387. At the suppression of the monasteries the King found it a poor plunder, but ultimately sold it for a rather high price to Henry Fitz Alan, Earl of Arundel, when the bulk of the collegiate building's were destroyed. Some remains, however, may still lie seen on the south-east, where they are now incorporated into a Roman Catholic nunnery. The church is cruciform in plan, with a central tower rising two stages from the roof. On this elevated position, during the Civil War, two cannon were mounted, and a brisk fire was kept up by the Puritan soldiers against the Royalists, who were holding the castle. The latter, who surrendered after a fortnight's siege, must have been ill-provided with artillery, for the tower does not appear to have suffered materially in the conflict. The church is Perpen- dicular in style, and, as became a poor foundation, is rather plain. Apparently the Fitz Alans were less liberal in their gifts to the church at their gate than many a noble family prior to the Reformation. At the suppression of the priory the portion belonging to the monks, in this case the choir only, became the property of the purchaser, and at the present day belongs to the Duke of Norfolk. The divided ownership was confirmed a few years since by a legal decision, and has been unhappily commemorated by the erection of a brick wall under the eastern tower-arch, which entirely isolates the Fitz Alan choir. In the parish church there is little calling for notice, except that the "ritual choir" is enclosed by a low barrier, as may still be seen in many Italian churches; there arc the remains of some curious mural paintings, and the pulpit is formed from an old stone chantry or shrine. This has been applied to its former use during a late restoration of the church. In the last century, when, as we read, " the general character of the interior " was "calculated rather to convey an idea of cleanliness and order than to awaken any of the more solemn feelings of religion," this pulpit was "surrounded by curtains and converted into a private pew. The " Fitz Alan Chapel," though the burial-place of that family and of the Howards, their successors, was grievously mutilated in the last century. It had long been neglected and allowed to fall into disrepair, but in the year 1782 the Duke of Norfolk sanctioned the demolition of the ancient roof. This was done in the most reckless manner; the heavy beams were sawn through and allowed to fall within the building, crushing the woodwork of the stalls, injuring the tombs, and even breaking the stone pavement of the choir. At the present day visitors, except on rare occasions, are excluded by an un- gracious exercise of legal rights from the building, and from the sight of some of the most interesting monuments in Britain. The series is less com- plete than we should expect, Of late date there are none of importance, and the earlier have been diminished in number by neglect and wanton destruction. ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Dl'NSTEIl AND In the vaults beneath lie many of the Howards. They seem to have been generally a short-lived and often an ill-fated race. The first Duke of Norfolk ARUNDEL CASTLE. was killed at Bos- worth on the losing side ; the third was only saved from the axe by tlie death of Henry VIII., which occurred just too late to save his eldest son, the Earl of Surrey, from that fate. The fourth Duke was beheaded by Queen Elizabeth. His eldest son was also sentenced to death, but was reprieved, and died, " not without suspicion of poison," a prisoner in the Tower. His body, in the year 1623, was transferred to these vaults. His successor, Thomas, died at Padua, a voluntary exile during the Civil War, but is buried here, as are most of his heirs, who have conic to a peaceful end, but have not usually attained to a long term of years. The monuments of interest are those of their predecessors, the Eitz Alans. On an altar-tomb of blue marble and alabaster, unhappily much damaged, lie the recumbent figures of Thomas Fit/ Alan, Earl of Arundel, a son of the founder of the college, and his wife, a daughter of John I., King of Portugal. His successor, John Fitz Alan, who died in 1421, was content with a simpler monument. A table-tomb, with an armoured figure on the upper slab and a wasted corpse below, commemorates John, son of the last named, who died and was buried at Beauvais in the year 1435. But the most remarkable monument is placed against the south wall, and commemorates William Fitz Alan, brother and successor to the last named, and his countess, a sister of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. Akunhkl.] THE FITZ ALAN SHRINE. 273 It is a .small projecting - chantry, consisting of three bays, the middle one being occupied by the actual tomb, and the eastern cut off by a screen built at the foot of the monument. The canopy is enriched with mosl elaborate panel-sculpture, and in advance of the slender shafts which support it are spiral columns, ter- minated by ornamental capitals, enlarged into a kind of bracket, on which probably small statues were formerly placed. The general plan and the archi- tectural design is mediaeval, but the influence of the Renaissance is occasionally perceptible, so that the Fitz Alan shrine, strictly speaking, belongs to that inter- esting series of remains which illustrates the gradual development of the Jacobean style from the Tudor or latest Gothic. At the present time [1887] the chapel is undergoing a much-needed restoration. The roof — a memorial in itself, as has been said above, of the barbarism of a former owner — has been entirely renewed. The interior has been taken in hand, and it is to be hoped that the aspect of dilapidation and neglect will be removed, without too much substitution of new for old, or falling into the mistake to which restorers of the Roman Catholic communion seem especially liable, of introducing garish and sometimes almost tawdry decorations, which harmonise so ill with the venerable memorials of an ancient building. T. CI. Bonney. j j CHISWIOK AND KEW. TWO ARTISTS' GRAVES. I pleasant river-side suburb. At all T is, perhaps, not too much to say that the composite and, to speak truly, the unimposing church by the river at Chiswiek would never have become famous but for the attractions of the locality as a resort for a number of distinguished inhabitants, who in the last two centuries sought rest and recreation in the events, the more modern portion of the structure — with the exception of one or two restorations or improvements — so ob- scured and vulgarised the original simple building that, with the memorials of those who were buried within the walls or in the graveyard, and tin. 1 famous or notorious names to be seen in the registers, the old building, with its really remarkable tower, and wall of stone ami flint, might have been better left as an example of a simple church of the early part of the fifteenth century, when William Bordal, the vicar of the parish, who died in 1435, erected the said tower at his own cost. Dedicated to the patron saint of the fishermen who were the principal inhabitants of Cheswick, or ( Iheswyche, it consisted, like many more and chancel, with a good roof of open style of tlie original hut it was probably HOGAHTH. important churches, only of a nave timber. Though only the tower remains to suffffest the ~ J DO edifice, it is easy to imagine that it was bare and plain ; more truly imposing than it appears now that the ancient roof has been replaced bv one of our modern substitutes. The nave is still unattractive, but its old rugged simplicity was obviously destroyed by the addition of ugly transepts, built of brick in that worst period of ecclesiastical architecture repre- sented by the dates of their erection, 177'3 and 1817. These transepts were extended as space was required by the growth of the district, and therefore became more hideous by assuming the aspect, without tin- true proportions, of aisles; and though careful and judicious restorations have been attempted, by the substitution of open seats for the old pews, the rebuilding of the chancel, the opening of a west window, and the provision of a handsome memorial window in the east, Chiswiek Church is still dependent for its interest on QriswicK and Kmv.] CIVIL WAR AND PLAGUE. 27b associations commencing early in the seventeenth century. History says little or nothing of this Church of St. Nicholas before the date of the records in the parish hooks themselves; and, curiously enough, the most distinct tradition is that the registers that existed prior to the year 1G21— at which date the present parochial chronicles commence — were destroyed by the soldiers of the Lord Protector when they were quartered in the church. For this story there is no adequate authority, and, much as we may deplore the absence of earlier records, we have to be satisfied with the memoranda of churchwardens' dinners and boat excursions, particulars of burial fees, and other curious but not important matters, till we come to an entry which shows that, in 16-13, the London train-hands were quartered in the sacred edifice, when they were engaged in the Civil War, at the battle of* Brentford. There is also an account of the precautions taken by the parochial authorities against the Plague in 1665 and 1666; and many particulars which show that Chiswick was a lively place, and took a prominent part in the celebration of various public events. The number of marble tablets and monuments that are to be seen on the walls of this church suffice to give it a place of some distinction in any account of important ecclesiastical buildings. A memorial to .Sir Thomas Ckaloner, a famous chemist in the reign of Elizabeth, is among the earliest, and is the most striking, except, perhaps, the monument erected by Garrick to Charles Holland, the actor, who was the son of a baker of Chiswick, and was baptised there in 1733. Holland, who, while he was an apprentice to a merchant, was noted in domestic circles for his dramatic ability, applied to Garrick, and was advised to fulfil his apprenticeship, and then, if he still desired to become an actor, to apply to him again. This advice was followed, and Garrick brought him out at Drury Lane Theatre in 1704, after which he played with considerable success till November, 1769, and died in the month following. He was buried in the family vault in Chiswick churchyard, his funeral being attended by a number of actors; and his friend and patron erected to his memory the marble monument to be seen in the north wall of the chancel, containing air inscription, with Garrick's name. The first extension of the church was due to Dr. Walker, a Puritan incumbent under the Commonwealth, who in the Service substituted the " Directory " f or the Book of Common Prayer; and a tablet in memory of his wife unobtrusively occupies a place near the Chaloner monument. The larger number of mural memorials, however, belong to members of the aristocracy, the names of the Walpoles being conspicuous; and there is one to Mr. Thomas Bentley, the partner of Josiah Wedgwood ; but by far the more interesting mementos are in the churchyard, for there lies William Hogarth, the great painter, humorist, and moralist, whose monument, also erected by David Garrick, is conspicuous 276 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Chibwick on the south side, crowned by a name in burnished brass. Garrick wrote an epitaph and sent it to Dr. Johnson, who, not liking it, made such considerable alterations or suggestions that very little of the original composition was left, and the result was that uogarth's xomh. Garrick wrote another, with or without Johnson's assistance It is not a very striking performance : — " Farewell, great painter of mankind, Who reached tin 1 noblest point of ail, Whose pictured morals charm the mind, And through the eye correct tin- heart. "If Genius fire thee, reader, stay; If Nature touch time, drop a tear; If neither move thee, turn away, For Hogarth's honoured dust lies here." This, too, is signed "1>. Garrick." The inscription on the monument shows that Mrs. Hogarth, who was the daughter of Sir .lames Thomhill, the artist who painted the dome of St. Paul's and the ceilings at Bloxham and Greenwich, also lies here. .She died in 1789, and was eighty years old, having survived her husband AND Kf.W.] A QUA TNT INSCRIPTION. 277 twenty-five years. Lady Thornhill, her mother, and the widow of Sir James, is also buried in the churchyard. Among man)' well-known names, that make this one of the most remarkable burial-places in England, are those of Kent, the architect and famous landscape gardener, who designed and completed the extension and formation of Kensington Gardens (he lies in the vault of the Cavendish family); Sharp, the famous " line " engraver ; Carey, the translator of Dante, who resided at Hogarth's house in Chiswick. Members of old families of the district, includ- ing some who belonged to the Roman Catholic communion, and numerous personages whose names occur in relation to art and letters, found their last earthly resting-place in Chiswick churchyard, on the outside of the wall of which, on the north-east, may be read: — "This wall was made at ye charges of ye right honourable and truelie pious Lorde Francis Russell, Earle of Bedford, out of true zeale and care for ye keeping of this churchyard and ye wardrobe of Grodd's saints, whose bodies lay therein buryed, from violating by swine and other profanation. So witnesseth William Walker, V., a.d. 1623." Another tablet records that the wall was rebuilt in 1831. The parish church at Kcw, of which the original building goes no farther back than Queen Anne, las also so altered dur- ng the past few years that there are few in- dications of the ancient structure, and few ob- 'ects of interest to the visitor, fewer still to the antiquary. Kew itself has little interest to the ordinary observer, except that which is associates with Frederick, Prince of Wales, and Princess Caroline; with their son, George the Third, and his Queen Charlotte, in their rustic retirement at the old Dutch bouse, where the}- dined off boiled mutton and turnips, and kept no Court; and GAINSBOllOUGH S TuMli. 278 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [Chiswick more recently with the Royal Princes and Princesses, the sons and daughters of Farmer George, and especially with the Duke of Cumberland, of by no means pious memory, who endeavoured to divert the succession from the Princess Victoria. Kew Church is conspicuous because of its situation on Kew Green, where it was built by subscription, Queen Anne contributing sufficiently to make it desirable to name the building Cl the Chapel of St. Anne of Kew Green." Thus it was named at its completion on the 12th of May, 1714, and it was then little more than a chapel, consisting of a nave with an aisle on the north, and a school-room on the south; and thus it continued till 1837, when considerable extensions were made, chiefly in consequence of very handsome donations from William IV., who did not lire to see the completion of the new structure in 1838. That the King took much personal interest in the work is shown by the fact that on his visiting Kew for the last time in 1837, he inspected the plans and estimates pre- pared by the architect, and after his death it was found that ho had made pro- vision of nearly five thousand pounds for the purpose of carrying out the requisite work. On a brass plate in front of the gallery is the following inscription, dic- tated by himself , for the purpose of being placed in the church: "King William IV., in the year 1836, directed 'Jul) free seats to he provided in this church at his expense, for the accommodation of the poor of the parish and of the children of the King's Free School, to be for ever appropriated to their use." The gallery at the west end of the church will contain about sixty persons, and on its front, beside the brass plate with the inscription, are the arms of William IV. and a number of royal hatchments, the most conspicuous of which are those of Ernest, the aforementioned Duke of Cumberland (afterwards King of Hanover), and of the Duke of Cambridge. In 1882 there were further considerable extensions of the building then called "The Royal Church" at Kew — the proposal to enlarge it having been cordially endorsed by a meeting of the inhabitants — fur Kew anil the neighbourhood had become places of vastly greater importance since the time that Frederick of Wales lived there and began to form the Royal Gardens. The district had long before that date become of importance as a London suburb, and the Gardens had tor many years been among the most popular resorts near tin.' metropolis. The Queen had subscribed £100, and the Duke of Cambridge, who presided at the meeting, gave a like amount; while the Duchess of Teck, the Grand Duke and Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, and all the connections of the Cambridge branch of the Royal .Family, were interested in the work, which it was estimated would cost £5,500. Among other efforts to raise the money was a morning concert at St. James's Hall, organised by the Duchess of Teck. The result is now to be seen in the new chancel, behind which is a mortuary chapel where the body of the late Duke of Cambridge lies. The raising of the " wagon " roof and Klw.] GAINSBOROUGH'S GRAVE. 279 of the nave and the lowering of the scats have given a greater height and appearance of space to the main portion of the building. The organ, which occupies a recess on the cast of the altar, is an object of interest, for it is said to have belonged to the great Frederick Handel, and to have been much admired by George 111., who was not a bad judge in such matters. It was presented to the church by George IV. in 1823. Only a few of the monuments on the walls are of much interest, not even excepting these of Lady Dorothy ( !a pel, 1721, and Elizabeth, Countess of Derby, 1717; but the attention oi the visitor is directed to the memorials of some famous men, and especially famous painters, who are buried in the churchyard, which is only divided from Kew Green by a dwarf wall. The grave of Gainsborough is there, though no mural tablet was erected to his memory till 1875, when another noted painter, Mr. E. M. Ward, P. A., placed one on the south wall of the church. The tomb of Zoffany, the celebrated portrait painter, who lived at Strand- on-the-Green, and died in 1810, is in the churchyard, and some of his relatives lie not far from him. The picture by which he is best remembered is a group of Royal Academicians, who are represented as having met at the hall of the Academy on "a drawing night." On the north wall of the church is a tablet to the memory of Jeremiah Meyer, R.A. ("Painter in miniature and enamel to George III."), who died in 17*11 ; the design of the memorial is tin.' Muse of Painting mourning beneath a medallion bust of the artist, and there is a long inscription in verse by Hayley, of which all that can be said is that it is in the usual turgid style of such mementos. The tomb of Gainsborough near the school house is, perhaps, the most striking object in the churchyard, but it had fallen into decay until it was completely restored and surrounded with an iron railing at the expense of Mr. E. M. Ward. The renewed inscription tells us that the great landscape painter died August 22nd, 1788, at the age of 62, and that his wife Margaret, who also lies there, died in December, 1708, aged 71. In this grave also lies Mr. Gainsborough Dupont, a son of the sister of Gainsborough and a pupil of the famous painter. Mr. Dupont, whose father was a French refugee, died at his house in Fitzroy Square on the 20th of January, 1797. He was an artist of no mean ability, and his name appears in the list of directors of the "French Protestant Hospital 1 ' in 17U4. His portrait, painted by himself, has recently been acquired by the directors of that institution, and may be seen in the Court Room of the Hospice, Victoria Park, among other valuable mementos. Near the grave of Gainsborough is that of his friend Joshua Kirby the father of the noted Mrs. Trimmer; and not far from Zotfany's is that of Mr. R. Ford, "genealogist." Francis Bauer, the once famous microscopist, is also buried here. At the eastern end of the church one of the more recent tablets has been 280 ABBEYS AND CHURCHES. [ChInWICK AN D KEW. placed— that designed by Mr. F. T. Palgrave to the memory of his uncle, Sir William Hooker, director of the Royal Gardens, who died in 1865. Kew was originally only a hamlet to Kingston, and was united to Petersham as a parish in 17