One of the last visits of the King to Eltham was in the year 1575, when Henry held one of the tournaments in which in his early manhood he so much delighted. This is Holinshed's account of it: —
'After the parlement was ended, the king kept a solemne Christmasse at his manor of Eltham; and on the Twelfe night in the hall was made a goodlie castell, woonderouslie set out, and in it certeine ladies and knights; and when the king and queene were set, in came other knights and assailed the castell, where manie a good stripe was giuen; and at the last the assailants were beaten awaie. And then issued out knights and ladies out of the castell, which ladies were rich and strangelie disguised; for all their apparell was in braids of gold, fret with moouing spangls of siluer and gilt, set on crimson sattin, loose and not fastned: the mens apparell of the same sute made like Iulis of Hungarie; and the ladies heads and bodies were after the fashion of Amsterdam. And when the dansing was doone, the banket was serued in of two hundred dishes, with great plentie to euerie bodie.'
There is little more to be said about Eltham, which is a place so beautiful that it ought to have a more interesting history. Kings and Courts delight me not, nor do I take pleasure in reading about tournaments and masques.
There is no figure in the history of Eltham so pleasant to think upon as that of little Prince Richard, the lovely boy who was going to become such an extravagant King. One would like to have seen Edward entertaining his prisoner, King John of France; and one wonders what sort of figure was played by the Armenian Leo in the presence of Richard's splendour: but perhaps he knew the Court of Constantinople, and smiled at the splendour of the barbaric north.
Once more, how did they provide for the maintenance of so many guests? To feed two thousand every day is a great undertaking. We are accustomed to believe that the roads in winter were so bad as to be impassable. Now, everything had to be brought there, whatever the condition of the roads. And they were bye-roads, not high roads. The guests, too, and the nobles and their retainers, had to arrive by those roads. As was stated above, due notice was certainly given: a vast quantity of salt provisions was laid down in readiness: for the rest, the country was fertile and well cultivated. The Park contained deer – but they could not kill all; the Thames, only three miles away – but then, the roads! – was full of salmon and every kind of fish: the banks of the lower reaches and those of the Ravensbourne – again, those roads! – were the homes of myriads of wild birds. Still, one feels that the inland communications of the fourteenth century must have been a great deal better than those of the seventeenth century in order to allow of Christmas being kept in magnificence and profusion by two thousand people in a country village.
The views which accompany this account are taken from Lysons: they were engraved in the year 1796. There is not much difference in the present aspect: the moat has been opened again: the buildings represented on the south side of the Hall have vanished: and the place itself which had been used as a barn is now empty, and is only thrown open for visitors or the drilling of Volunteers.
3. GREENWICH PALACE
The Green Village lying on the slope of a gentle hill, with marshes on either side of it – the marsh of the Ravensbourne on one side, and the Woolwich or the Greenwich marsh on the other side of it – is as old as history itself. Its position as the landing-place, or point of approach, to the lands of Kent, a place where ships might lie, pirates and invaders might seize and hold as a base of operations, very early called attention to its natural advantages. Here the Danes encamped in 1011; here they brought the venerable Alphege and murdered him, throwing beef bones at his head. As the throwing of bones was a favourite evening pastime with the Danes, they probably meant little at first beyond a friendly reminder or an invitation to take part in the game: as the Archbishop made no response they threw the bones in earnest (see p. 72). The people of Greenwich have long since forgotten that the place was once a Royal Residence, and that there are historical memories connected with Greenwich of interest almost equal to those of Westminster, and far more important and interesting than those of Eltham.
Let us perform the perfunctory task of cataloguing some of these memories.
In the year 1408, Henry IV. dates his will from Greenwich.
In 1417 Henry V. granted the manor for life to Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, who afterwards died here.
In 1443 it was granted to Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, with permission to fortify and embattle the manor house, and to enclose a park of 200 acres. This was the true beginning of Greenwich Palace. Humphrey rebuilt the house, which he called Placentia, the House of Pleasance: he enclosed the Park and he built a Tower on the spot where the Royal Observatory now stands. On his death, in 1447, the place reverted to the Crown. Edward the Fourth took great pleasure in the place and beautified it at much cost. In 1466 he granted the Manor, Palace, and Park, to the Queen, Elizabeth Woodville, for life. The marriage of Richard Duke of York and Anne Mowbray was here solemnised with the usual rejoicings.
With Henry VII. also Greenwich was a favourite place of residence. He added a brick front on the riverside (see p. 77). Here Henry the Eighth was born on June 28, 1491. He was baptised in the Parish Church, the predecessor of the present church. He, too, loved Greenwich above all other Palaces, and made it during the early years of his reign the scene of the festivities and entertainments which he loved so much. Here he married Katharine of Arragon on June 3, 1510. Here he held the great tournament in which he himself, Sir Edward Howard, Charles Brandon, and Edward Neville challenged all comers. In 1512 and in 1513 he kept Christmas here 'with great solemnity, dancing, disguisings, and mummers in a most princely manner.' Holinshed gives an account of two entertainments held by the King at Greenwich – one a tournament in June, the other at Christmas: —
'This yeare also in Iune, the king kept a solemne iustes at Greenewich, the king & sir Charles Brandon taking vpon them to abide all commers. First came the ladies all in white and red silke, set vpon coursers trapped in the same sute, freated ouer with gold; after whom followed a founteine curiouslie made of russet sattin, with eight gargils spowting water: within the founteine sat a knight armed at all peeces. After this founteine followed a ladie all in blacke silke dropped with fine siluer, on a courser trapped in the same. Then followed a knight in a horsselitter, the coursers & litter apparelled in blacke with siluer drops. When the fountein came to the tilt, the ladies rode round about, and so did the founteine, and the knight within the litter. And after them were brought twi goodlie coursers apparelled for the iusts: and when they came to the tilts end, the two knights mounted on the two courses abiding all commers. The king was in the founteine, and sir Charles Brandon was in the litter. Then suddenlie with great noise of trumpets entred sir Thomas Kneuet in a castell of cole blacke, and ouer the castell was written "The Dolorous Castell," and so he and the earle of Essex, the lord Howard, and other ran their courses with the king and sir Charles Brandon, and euer the king brake most speares, and likelie was so to doo yer he began, as in former time; the prise fell to his lot; so luckie was he and fortunat in the proofe of his prowes in martiall actiuitie, whereto from his yong yeers he was giuen…
'After this parlement was ended, the king kept a solemne Christmasse at Greenwich, with danses and mummeries in most princelie maner. And on the Twelfe daie at night came into the hall a mount, called the rich mount. The mount was set full of rich flowers of silke, and especiallie full of broome slips full of cods, and branches were greene sattin, and the flowers flat gold of damaske, which signified Plantagenet. On the top stood a goodlie beacon giuing light, round about the beacon sat the king and fiue other, all in cotes and caps of right crimson veluet, embrodered with flat gold of damaske, their cotes set full of spangles of gold. And foure woodhouses drew the mount till it came before the queene, and then the king and his companie descended and dansed. Then suddenlie the mount opened, and out came six ladies all in crimsin sattin and plunket, embrodered with gold and pearle, with French hoods on their heads, and they dansed alone. Then the lords of the mount tooke the ladies and dansed togither: and the ladies reentered, and the mount closed, and so was conueied out of the hall. Then the king shifted him, and came to the queene, and sat at the banket, which was verie sumptuous.'
Other tournaments were held here in 1517, 1526, and 1536.
Here Charles Brandon married Mary, Dowager Queen of France. Six or seven times more Henry kept Christmas at Greenwich. In 1543, the last occasion, he entertained twenty-one Scottish gentlemen, taken prisoners, and released them without a ransom, being to the end, whatever else he was, a Prince of most Princely gifts and graces.
Queen Mary was born at Greenwich in 1515. Cardinal Wolsey was her godfather.
King Edward the Sixth died here.
Queen Elizabeth was born here on September 7, 1533. She, too, spent much of her time at Greenwich.
King James also much delighted in this place: he added to the brickwork by the riverside: he also walled the park and laid the foundations of the house afterwards called the House of Delight. The Queen, who received the Palace in jointure, carried on this House, which was afterwards completed by Inigo Jones for Henrietta Maria. It was called the King's House, the Queen's House, or the Ranger's Lodge. It was not until 1807 that the house was granted to the Commissioners of the Royal Naval Asylum.
Separated from town by five miles of road, and four of river, it was thus easily accessible in all weathers and independent of the condition of the roads. In other respects the position of the place was unrivalled: it was on a slope rising from the river in front, and from lowlands on either side; it was swept night and day by the sharp fresh breeze that came up with the tide from the sea; behind it, on a high level, lay an expanse of heath, dry and wholesome; there was no better air to be got than the air of Greenwich; that of Eltham, with its stagnant marsh and thick woods, was close and aguish in comparison: for view, the broad river rolled along the Palace front and bent round to east and west, so that one could see all the shipping in front; all in Limehouse Reach; and all in Blackwall Reach. As the tide ebbed and flowed, the navies and the trade of London passed up and down, outward bound or homeward bound. Sitting at her window, or walking on her terrace, Queen Elizabeth could for herself learn what was meant by the foreign trade of London: what was meant by the exports and imports: she could see every kind of ship that floats come sailing up the river, streamers flying, dipping the peak in salute: she could understand the coasting trade and the Flemish trade: she could ask what the hoys and ketches, the lighters, and the barges carried up to the Port of London in such numbers: she could herself, and often did, embark upon the stream in summer, when the sun was sinking in the west, to see the ships more closely and to enjoy the fresh, cool air of the river. Witness the sad history of Thomas Appletree.
It was on the 17th day of July in the year 1579, about nine o'clock of the evening, that an accident happened which might have had fatal consequences. The Queen was taking the air in her private barge, between Greenwich and Deptford. With her were the French Ambassador, the Earl of Lincoln, and other great persons, discoursing affairs of state. Unfortunately for themselves, four young fellows were out in a small boat at the same time, and on the same part of the river. They were Thomas Appletree, a young servant of Francis Carey, two singing boys of the Queen's choir, and another. Thomas Appletree had possessed himself of a 'caliver' or arquebus, which he was so ill advised as to load with ball and then fire it at random up and down the river. One of these haphazard discharges carried the bullet straight to the Queen's barge, where it passed through both arms of the oarsman nearest Her Majesty. The man thus unexpectedly wounded, finding himself bleeding like a pig – for it was a flesh wound – threw himself down, bawling and roaring out that he was murdered. The Queen comforted him with the assurance that he should be properly cared for, and ordered the barge to be taken back to the shore at once. The man, being treated, speedily recovered. Meantime, who had dared to fire a gun at the Queen's barge? The question was very quickly answered, and the Lords in Council had the four lads brought up before them. It appearing that the only guilty person was Thomas Appletree, the other three were suffered to depart, and Thomas was tried. It was ascertained that there could be no question as to the loyalty of Thomas's master, Francis Carey, therefore the whole guilt rested on the shoulders of the unlucky serving man, whose only fault had been foolhardiness in firing his gun at random. He was therefore sentenced to be hanged, with the usual accompaniments, for treason. Accordingly, on the 20th day of July he was taken from Newgate and conducted on a hurdle with great ceremony to Tower Hill, and so through the postern to Ratcliff, where, opposite the place where the offence was committed, they had put up a gibbet on which the unhappy Thomas Appletree was to be hanged. He had made a dolorous journey on his hurdle, weeping copiously all the way, and many of the people weeping with him. Arrived at the gallows, he mounted the ladder, and, if the chronicler repeats faithfully, he made a most admirable use of the last moments which remained to him. It is, indeed, truly remarkable to observe how admirably all those who were taken out to die acquitted themselves, whether it was a peer to be beheaded for treason, or a Catholic priest to be hanged, drawn, and quartered for being a priest. Appletree, for his part, spoke so movingly that the people all wept with him. Then the hangman put the rope round the condemned man's neck, and the bitterness of death entered into his soul. But the people cried, 'Stay! Stay!' and at that moment there came riding up the Queen's Vice-Chamberlain, Sir Christopher Hatton. But think not that the Vice-Chamberlain hastily proclaimed the royal pardon. Not at all. He left Thomas on the ladder for a while; he made an oration on the heinousness of the offence: he made everybody kneel while he prayed for the safety of the Queen: and then, when all hearts were softened and all eyes bedewed, he pronounced the Queen's pardon, which the prisoner acknowledged in suitable language. Thomas Appletree was then taken back to the Marshalsea, where he remained, one hopes, a very short time after this. We may be quite sure that whatever destiny was in store for this young man, shooting at random with a caliver or arquebus would have nothing to do with it.
Another association of Greenwich is that of Sir John Willoughby's departure for the Arctic seas. He was going to endeavour to open a new way for trade round the N.E. Arctic sea along the north coast of Asia. He embarked at Ratcliff Stairs: you may take boat there to this day. As he passed down the river, with flags and streamers flying, they brought out the little King Edward, who was dying, to see the sailing of the stout old sailor. So with firing of guns the ships passed on their way, and they carried the dying King back to his bed. In a day or two Edward was dead. In six months, or it might be less, Willoughby was dead too, frozen to death in his cabin, where the Russians found him, his dead hand on his papers.
If you wish to know what state was kept by Queen Elizabeth at Greenwich, you will find an account of it in Hentzner, that excellent traveller who remarked so much, and put all down on paper.
'We arrived at the Royal Palace of Greenwich, reported to have been originally built by Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and to have received very magnificent additions from Henry VII. It was here Elizabeth, the present Queen, was born, and here she generally resides; particularly in Summer, for the Delightfulness of its Situation. We were admitted by an Order Mr. Rogers had procured from the Lord Chamberlain, into the Presence-Chamber, hung with rich Tapestry, and the Floor, after the English fashion, strewed with Hay,2 through which the Queen commonly passes in her way to chapel: At the Door stood a Gentleman dressed in Velvet, with a Gold Chain, whose Office was to introduce to the Queen any Person of Distinction, that came to wait on her: It was Sunday, when there is usually the greatest Attendance of Nobility. In the same Hall were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great Number of Counsellors of State, Officers of the Crown, and Gentlemen, who waited the Queen's coming out; which she did from her own Apartment, when it was Time to go to Prayers, attended in the following Manner:
'First went Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly dressed and bare-headed; next came the Chancellor, bearing the Seals in a red-silk Purse, between Two: One of which carried the Royal Scepter, the other the Sword of State, in a red Scabbard, studded with golden Fleurs de Lis, the Point upwards: Next came the Queen, in the Sixty-fifth Year of her Age, as we were told, very majestic; her Face oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her Eyes small, yet black and pleasant; her Nose a little hooked; her Lips narrow, and her Teeth black (a Defect the English seem subject to, from their too great Use of Sugar): she had in her Ears two Pearls, with very rich Drops; she wore false Hair, and that red; upon her Head she had a small Crown, reported to be made of some of the Gold of the celebrated Lunebourg Table:3 Her Bosom was uncovered, as all the English Ladies have it, till they marry; and she had on a Necklace of exceeding fine Jewels; her Hands were small, her Fingers long, and her Stature neither tall nor low; her Air was stately, her Manner of Speaking mild and obliging. That Day she was dressed in white Silk, bordered with Pearls of the Size of Beans, and over it a Mantle of black Silk, shot with Silver Threads; her Train was very long, the End of it borne by a Marchioness; instead of a Chain, she had an oblong Collar of Gold and Jewels. As she went along in all this State and Magnificence, she spoke very graciously, first to one, then to another, whether foreign Ministers, or those who attended for different Reasons, in English, French and Italian; for, besides being well skilled in Greek, Latin, and the Languages I have mentioned, she is mistress of Spanish, Scotch, and Dutch: Whoever speaks to her, it is kneeling; now and then she raises some with her Hand. While we were there, W. Slawata, a Bohemian Baron, had Letters to present to her; and she, after pulling off her Glove, gave him her right Hand to kiss, sparkling with Rings and Jewels, a Mark of particular Favour: Where-ever she turned her Face, as she was going along, everybody fell down on their Knees.4 The Ladies of the Court followed next to her, very handsome and well-shaped, and for the most Part dressed in white; she was guarded on each Side by the Gentlemen Pensioners, fifty in Number, with gilt Battleaxes. In the Antichapel next the Hall where we were, Petitions were presented to her, and she received them most graciously, which occasioned the Acclamation of, Long live Queen ELIZABETH! She answered with, I thank you, my good PEOPLE. In the Chapel was excellent Music; as soon as it and the Service was over, which scarce exceeded half an hour, the Queen returned in the same State and Order, and prepared to go to Dinner. But while she was still at Prayers, we saw her Table set out with the following Solemnity.
'A Gentleman entered the Room bearing a Rod, and along with him another who had a Table-cloth, which, after they had both kneeled three Times with the utmost Veneration, he spread upon the Table, and after kneeling again they both retired. Then came two others, one with the Rod again, the other with a Salt-seller, a Plate and Bread; when they had kneeled, as the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the Table, they too retired with the same Ceremonies performed by the first. At last came an unmarried Lady (we were told she was a Countess), and along with her a married one, bearing a Tasting-knife; the former was dressed in white Silk, who, when she had prostrated herself three Times, in the most graceful Manner, approached the Table, and rubbed the Plates with Bread and Salt with as much Awe as if the Queen had been present: When they had waited there a little while, the Yeomen of the Guard entered, bare-headed, cloathed in Scarlet, with a golden Rose upon their Backs, bringing in at each Turn a Course of twenty-four Dishes, served in plate, most of it Gilt; these Dishes were received by a Gentleman in the same Order they were brought, and placed upon the Table, while the Lady-taster gave to each of the Guards a mouthful to eat, of the particular dish he had brought, for Fear of any Poison. During the Time that this Guard, which consists of the tallest and stoutest Men that can be found in all England, being carefully selected for this Service, were bringing Dinner, twelve Trumpets and two Kettle-drums made the Hall ring for Half an Hour together. At the end of this Ceremonial a Number of unmarried Ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted the Meat off the Table, and conveyed it into the Queen's inner and more private Chamber, where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes to the Ladies of the Court.
'The Queen dines and sups alone, with very few Attendants; and it is very seldom that any Body, Foreigner or Native, is admitted at that Time, and then only at the Intercession of somebody in Power.'
On the Restoration, Charles at first resolved to pull down the Palace and build it anew. For this purpose he consulted various persons, and after many delays began the building. He only succeeded, however, in erecting what is now the west wing of the Hospital. But it never again became a Royal Residence. In 1694, the Palace was converted into a Hospital for the Royal Navy. This splendid institution, one of the glories of Great Britain, and a standing monument of the nation's gratitude to her sailors, and an ever present invitation to enter the navy, was closed, with that stupid indifference to sentiment which so often distinguishes the acts of our Government, in the year 1870.
4. LAMBETH PALACE
The now huge town of Lambeth presents few points of interest either to the visitor or to the historian. There are no buildings of any antiquity except the Palace and the Church. There are no modern buildings at all worth notice. There have been two or three memorable houses which we shall do well to touch upon: but they are not so memorable as to deserve long description. The Bishops of Rochester had a house in the Marsh – the site is in Carlisle Place, Westminster Road, at the back of St. Thomas's Hospital, close to Lambeth Palace. It was in this house that, in 1531, a wretched man named Robert Roose, in the Bishop's service as cook, wilfully, as was alleged, poisoned a large number of people, and was boiled to death in oil – the only instance, I believe, of this dreadful punishment. The wretched man was tied naked to a post and slowly lowered into the boiling fluid. Fisher was the last Bishop of Rochester who lived in this house. The buildings, with losses and additions, existed in some form or other till 1827. The house, indeed, had a strangely chequered history. The Bishop of Rochester exchanged it with the Crown for a house thought more convenient in Southwark, close to Winchester House. The Crown gave it to the Bishop of Carlisle, who seems to have let it on lease: thus it lost its ecclesiastical character altogether and became given over to entirely secular uses. It was at one time a pottery: then a tavern, and even a notorious and disorderly house: then a dancing master taught his accomplishments in the house: then it became a school. Finally, the gardens were built over, the operations disclosing many interesting gates and 'bits.'
Another house was that belonging to the Duke of Norfolk: it was called Norfolk House, and it stood on the other side of the Palace, on the site now marked by Paradise Street. Here lived the old Duke whose life was saved by the death of Henry the Eighth; here was brought up the accomplished Earl of Surrey whose life would have been saved had Henry died a few days earlier. Leland, the antiquary and scholar, was the Earl's tutor. The widow of Dr. Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, obtained the house. Her heirs ceased to live in it; the house was neglected, probably because no tenant could be found for it. Finally, it was pulled down. It is interesting to note the town houses which stood upon the Bank from Rotherhithe to Battersea: that of the Prior of Lewes; of Sir John Fastolfe; of the Augustines; the House of St. Mary Overies; Winchester House; Rochester House; Norfolk House; and later, the house of the St. Johns at Battersea. There are none between Bankside and Lambeth; that part of the Embankment which lies between Blackfriars and Westminster Bridge has no history and no associations.
Another noteworthy Lambeth house was that called Copt Hall, afterwards Vauxhall, situated opposite to the gardens afterwards called Vauxhall. In this house the unfortunate Arabella Stuart lived for a time. A good deal might be written about Copt Hall, but not in this place.
The houses of the Archbishop, the Bishop of Rochester, and the Duke of Norfolk stood close together and clustered round the church. The reason was the necessity of building on or near to the Embankment. Exactly opposite the south porch of the church may be observed a small and somewhat decayed street grandly called the High. The name and the situation close to the church indicate an individual and separate existence of the town or village of Lambeth, of which this was the principal street and the centre. The village, in fact, did exist from very early times; its population for the most part earned their livelihood as Thames fishermen. They were the lineal successors of that fortunate Edric to whom St. Peter appeared when he consecrated the Abbey. There was another colony of Thames fishermen lower down the river on Bermondsey Wall. When William the Conqueror is said to have burned Southwark it was the fishermen's cottages which he destroyed. None of these lived between Bankside and Westminster, which is proved by the fact that there is no church near the river wall at that place. The Thames fishermen lingered on, though the fishery grew poorer, until about 1820, when they were reduced to a single court in Lambeth. The place is described as mean and rickety, with neither paving nor lamps; the woodwork of the cottages broken; the roofs burst and tottering; the windows stuffed with rags or mended with paper; the children in rags; the court a receptacle for everything.
Lambeth as it is has mostly sprung into existence in the nineteenth century, during which its population has been actually multiplied by ten, and more than ten, rising from 27,000 in 1801 to 295,000 in 1891, an enormous increase. The principal reason of this development is the introduction of a great many industries – potteries, vinegar factories, distilleries, salt warehouses, bottle factories, and so forth.
Lambeth certainly cannot be called a beautiful town nor a desirable place of residence. The perambulator looks about in vain for streets noble, striking or picturesque; he looks in vain for houses beautiful or ancient; there is nothing to reward him. Old houses there were before the great increase began, but they exist no more; the place is dull; in parts it is dirty; everywhere it is without character or distinction. It has, however, a pretty park called after the famous Vauxhall Gardens, on whose site it stands. The park is new, but it is well laid out and planted; already it is a pretty piece of greenery, and, with Kennington and Battersea Parks, offers a much wanted breathing place for the multitudes of that quarter. It is adorned, or enriched, or ennobled, by a statue of Henry Fawcett, who died in a house on this spot. The statesman, attired in a costume strictly of the period, is sitting in a chair, pretending not to be aware that behind him stands an angel with outstretched wings, crowning him with laurel. He is obviously embarrassed by the situation. He feels that he ought to be dressed in some kind of Court costume – if he knew what – in order to receive the angel; or the angel might have assumed a frock coat in compliment to the statesman. The wings were probably in the way.
Lambeth Palace, whose history I am not going to narrate, plays a very considerable part in the History of England. In 1232 and in 1234, Parliament was held here. In 1261 and 128 °Councils were held here. In 1412 Archbishop Arundell, the kindly Christian who was so anxious to burn heretics, issued from this Palace a condemnation as heretical of a great many opinions, insomuch that it became obviously dangerous to have any opinions at all. This, however, was the condition of mind most desired by the Church of Arundell's time and of his views. It is needless to recount the many occasions when Kings and Queens were entertained at Lambeth Palace. Cardinal Pole died here. It was sometimes a prison. Queen Elizabeth entrusted to the care of the Archbishop at Lambeth, Bishops Tonstal and Thirlby, the Earl of Essex, the Earl of Southampton, Lord Stourton, and many others, who were kept in honourable confinement, not in dungeons or cells, but each in his own chamber.