Title: The Skirts of the Great City
Author: Bell, Mrs. Arthur G.
Language: English
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[Illustration: A map of The Skirts of the Great City]



[Frontispiece: HAMPTON COURT PALACE]



  THE SKIRTS OF
  THE GREAT CITY

  BY

  MRS. ARTHUR G. BELL



  WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY
  ARTHUR G. BELL
  AND SEVENTEEN OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS



  METHUEN & CO.
  36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
  LONDON



_First Published in 1907_



{v}

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. HAMPSTEAD AND ITS ASSOCIATIONS

II. HIGHGATE, HORNSEY, HENDON, AND HARROW

III. SOME INTERESTING VILLAGES NORTH OF LONDON,
     WITH WALTHAM ABBEY AND EPPING FOREST

IV. HAINAULT FOREST, WOOLWICH, AND OTHER
    EASTERN SUBURBS OF LONDON

V. GREENWICH AND OTHER SOUTH-EASTERN SUBURBS OF LONDON

VI. OUTLYING LONDON IN NORTH-EAST SURREY

VII. CROYDON, CARSHALTON, EPSOM, AND OTHER
     SUBURBS IN NORTH-WEST SURREY

VIII. WANDSWORTH, PUTNEY, BARNES, AND OTHER SOUTHERN SUBURBS

IX. WIMBLEDON, MERTON, MITCHAM, AND THEIR MEMORIES

{vi}

X. RIVERSIDE SURVEY FROM MORTLAKE TO RICHMOND

XI. RICHMOND TOWN AND PARK, WITH PETERSHAM,
    HAM HOUSE, AND KINGSTON

XII. RIVERSIDE MIDDLESEX FROM FULHAM TO HAMPTON COURT

INDEX



{vii}

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

IN COLOUR

HAMPTON COURT PALACE . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

CHURCH ROW, HAMPSTEAD

A BIT OF OLD HIGHGATE

EPPING FOREST, NEAR LOUGHTON

GREENWICH HOSPITAL, WITH ST. ALPHEGE'S CHURCH

CHISLEHURST CHURCH AND COMMON

PUTNEY REACH

WIMBLEDON COMMON

THE SHIP INN, MORTLAKE

THE OLD PALACE, RICHMOND

RICHMOND FROM TWICKENHAM FERRY

RICHMOND PARK, WITH THE WHITE LODGE

STRAND ON THE GREEN, WITH KEW BRIDGE

THE CANAL, BRENTFORD

PERIVALE CHURCH

ISLEWORTH



IN MONOTONE

MAP. FROM A DRAWING BY B. C. BOULTER . . . . . . _Front Cover_

THE SPANIARDS, HAMPSTEAD HEATH
    _from a photograph by Messrs. Valentine, Dundee._

{viii}

CONSTABLE'S FIRS
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Frith, Reigate._

HARROW-ON-THE-HILL
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Gale and Polden._

BYRON'S TOMB, HARROW
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Valentine, Dundee._

WALTHAM CROSS
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Frith, Reigate._

THE THAMES AT WOOLWICH
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Valentine, Dundee._

THE PAINTED HALL, GREENWICH HOSPITAL
    _From a photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company._

RUINS OF ELTHAM PALACE
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Frith, Reigate._

DULWICH COLLEGE
    _From a photograph by Mr. Bartlett, Dulwich._

THE CRYSTAL PALACE
    _From a photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company._

THE OLD PALACE, CROYDON
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Roffey and Clark, Croydon._

THE WANDLE, NEAR CARSHALTON
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Valentine, Dundee._

CARSHALTON POND
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Valentine, Dundee._

THE COCK INN, SUTTON
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Frith, Reigate._

THAMES DITTON
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Valentine, Dundee._

BUSHEY PARK
    _From a photograph by Messrs. Frith, Reigate._



{1}

  THE SKIRTS OF THE
  GREAT CITY



CHAPTER I

HAMPSTEAD AND ITS ASSOCIATIONS

In his remarkable work _Les Récits de l'Infini_, the famous French
astronomer, Camille Flammarion, hit upon a somewhat original device to
bring vividly before his readers the fact that the heavenly bodies are
seen by the dwellers upon earth, not as they are now, but as they were
when the light revealing them left them countless ages ago.  Having
endowed an imaginary observer with immortality, he takes him from star
to star, showing him all the kingdoms of the world at the various
stages of their development, and finally makes him a witness of the
Creation by the aid of the light that first shone upon the waters of
chaos.  Unfortunately, the student of history cannot hope to share the
supernatural facilities of vision of Flammarion's hero, but for all
that he can lay to heart some of the lessons of the astronomer's story
by bringing to bear upon his task the sympathetic imagination which
alone can enable him to reconstruct the past, and by remembering that
that past should be judged not by the light of modern progress, but by
such illumination as was available {2} when it was still the present.
No matter what the subject of study, the accumulation of facts is of
little worth without the power of realising their interdependence, and
this is very specially the case with the complex theme of London, in
which an infinite variety of conflicting elements are welded into an
unwieldy and by no means homogeneous whole, for in spite of the
obliteration of landmarks and the levelling influences of modern times,
each of its component parts has a psychological atmosphere of its own.
Illusive, intangible, often almost indefinable, that atmosphere affects
everything that is seen in it, and is a factor that must be reckoned
with, if a trustworthy picture of the past or present is to be called
up.  The truth of this is very forcibly illustrated in the outlying
suburbs of London, with which the present volume deals, for though
these suburbs now appear to the cursory observer to bear the relation
of branches to a parent stem, many indications prove that they were all
not so very long ago independent communities, which were gradually
absorbed by their aggressive neighbour, whose appetite grew with what
it fed upon, and is still unsatisfied.  This is very notably the case
with Hampstead, which less than a century ago was still a mere village,
the history of which can be traced back for more than a thousand years,
and which, through all its vicissitudes, may justly be said to have
been true to itself, for its inhabitants have from first to last
resisted with more or less success every attempt to merge its
individuality in that of the metropolis.

{3}

The name of Hampstead, originally spelt Hamstede, signifies homestead,
and the first settlement on the site of the present suburb is supposed
to have been a farm, situated in the district now known as Frognal,
round about which a hamlet grew up that was until after the Reformation
included in the parish of Hendon.  The earliest historical reference to
Hamstede occurs in a charter bearing date 978, in which Edward the
Peaceable granted the manor to his minister Mangoda, and many theories
have been hazarded to explain the difficulty arising from the fact that
the king died in 975, the most plausible of which is that the copyist
was guilty of a clerical error.  In any case, a later charter, issued
by Ethelred II. in 986, gave the same manor to the monks of
Westminster, a gift confirmed by Edward the Confessor, and retained
until the dissolution of the monasteries in the sixteenth century.

A touch of romance is given to the laconic description in Doomsday Book
of the Hamstede Manor, by the mention of Ranulph Pevrel as holding one
hide of land under the abbot, for that villein married the Conqueror's
former mistress, the beautiful Ingelrica, and the fact that the lovers
were in fairly prosperous circumstances is proved by Ranulph having
owned nearly six times as much land as any other dweller on the estate.
Incidentally, too, the effect of the Conquest on the value of property
is reflected in the sudden decrease in that of the manor of Hamstede,
which was worth one hundred shillings under Edward the Confessor, and
only fifty under his successor.

{4}

Unfortunately, next to nothing is known of the history of the little
settlement on the hill in Norman and mediæval times, but at the
Reformation the manor was included in the newly formed see of
Westminster, whose first bishop, Thomas Thirlby, appears to have lost
no time in dissipating the episcopal revenues, for much of his
property, including that at Hampstead, soon reverted to the Crown.  The
manor was given in 1550 by Edward VI. to Sir Thomas Wrothe, and after
changing hands many times in the succeeding centuries, it became the
property about 1780 of Sir Spencer Wilson, to whose great-nephew, Sir
Spencer Maryon Wilson, it now (1907) belongs.

The history of the neighbouring manor of Belsize greatly resembles that
of Hampstead, for it was given in the thirteenth century to the monks
of Westminster by means of a grant from Sir Roger Brabazon, chief
justice of the King's Bench.  It remained the property of the abbey
until the time of Henry VIII., when it was transferred to the Dean and
Chapter of Westminster, who leased it to a member of the Wade or Waad
family, whose descendants held it until 1649.  Since then it has been
sold many times, and the manor has been occupied by many celebrities,
including Lord Wotton and his half-brother the second Earl of
Chesterfield, but in 1720 it was converted into a place of amusement,
and gradually sank into what was known as a 'Folly House,' the resort
of gamblers and rakes.  Closed in 1745, possibly on account of its evil
reputation, it was restored a few years later to the dignity of a {5}
private residence, and between 1798 and 1807 it was the home of the
famous but ill-fated Spencer Perceval, who became Chancellor of the
Exchequer at the latter date, and Prime Minister two years later.  Some
sixty years ago, the ancient mansion with the grounds in which it stood
were sold for building, with the inevitable result that the rural
character of what had long been one of the most charming spots near
London, was quickly destroyed.  Belsize and Hampstead are now for all
practical purposes one, though two hundred and forty acres of the
former still belong to the Dean and Chapter of Westminster, whilst the
bounds of the latter as accepted by the Commission of 1885 remain
precisely what they were in Anglo-Saxon times before the cataclysm of
the Conquest that removed so many landmarks.

It is difficult, indeed almost impossible, to determine when Hampstead
first became a separate parish, but there is no doubt that it was still
a part of Hendon in the early years of the sixteenth century, for it
can be proved that the rector of the mother church was then paying a
separate chaplain, whose duty it was to hold services in the chapel of
the Blessed Virgin that is supposed to have occupied the site of the
present Church of St. John.  It is, however, equally certain that
before the end of the reign of Elizabeth, Hampstead had its own
church-wardens, for in 1598 they were summoned to attend the Bishop of
London's visitation.

At whatever date Hampstead seceded from Hendon, the chapelry of Kilburn
seems to have {6} been from the first included in the new parish, and
the history of this chapelry is so typical of ecclesiastical evolution
that it deserves relation here.  The story goes that the first settler
in the wilds of Kilburn was a hermit named Godwin, who some time in the
reign of Edward I. built himself a cell on the banks of the little
stream, the name of which, signifying the cold brook, is very variously
spelt--the usual form being Keybourne, which rose on the west of the
Heath, flowed though the district now known as Bayswater, fed the
Serpentine, and finally made its way to the Thames, but has long since
been degraded into a covered-in sewer.  Shut in by a dense forest, of
which Caen Wood is a relic, the lovely spot was an ideal retreat for
meditation and prayer, but the recluse soon tired of its seclusion.  He
returned to the world, gave his little property to the all-absorbing
Abbey of Westminster, by whose abbot it was a little later bestowed
upon three highly born ladies named Christina, Emma, and Gunilda, who,
fired with enthusiasm by the example of the saintly Queen Matilda,
whose maids of honour they had been, had resolved to devote the rest of
their lives to the service of God.  Leaving behind them all their
wealth, they took up their abode in the remote hut, but they were not
left entirely to their own devices, for small as was the community it
was raised to the dignity of a sisterhood of the Benedictine order, and
a chaplain was soon sent to hold services and superintend the daily
routine of the sisters' life.  This chaplain was none other than the
ex-hermit Godwin, and it is impossible to help {7} wondering whether
there may not perhaps have been some secret attachment between him and
one of the fair maidens.  His readiness to return to a place he had
intended to leave for ever is certainly suggestive, but his conduct
appears to have been in every way exemplary, and he remained at his
post till his death.  Meanwhile the three original occupants of the
nunnery had been joined by several other ladies, a new chaplain was
appointed, the little oratory with which Christina, Emma, and Gunilda
had been content was enlarged into a chapel, and a considerable grant
of land was bestowed upon the community, which continued to grow until
what had been but an insignificant settlement had become an important
priory, owning much property in the neighbourhood and elsewhere.
Strange to say, however, this prosperity was presently succeeded by a
time of great distress, for in 1337 Edward III. granted a special
exemption from taxation to the nuns because of their inability to pay
their debts.  It would, indeed, seem that the sisters had not after all
been able to manage their own temporal affairs successfully, but had
been too generous to the many pilgrims who claimed their hospitality as
a right, but very little is really known of the later history of the
priory, except that when under the name of the Nonnerie of Kilnbourne
it was surrendered to the commissioners of Henry VIII. its annual value
was assessed at £74, 7s. 11d.  The nuns whose lives had been given up
to aiding the poor and distressed were now compelled to beg their daily
bread, the rapacious king exchanged their lands for certain {8} estates
owned by the Knights Hospitallers of Jerusalem.  Later, the site of the
ancient priory was granted to the Earl of Warwick, and after changing
hands many times it became the property of the Upton family, one of
whom built the spacious church of St. Mary close to the spot where
Godwin's little oratory once stood.  Near to it is the headquarters of
the hard-working sisters of St. Peter's, who carry on under the modern
conditions of densely populated Kilburn the traditions of their gentle
predecessors, the memory of whose old home is preserved in the names of
the Abbey and Priory Roads.  Not far away, too, rises the stately spire
of the noble Church of St. Augustine, one of Pearson's finest Gothic
designs, so that the whole neighbourhood would seem, in spite of all
the changes that have taken place, to be still haunted by the spirits
of those who withdrew to it so many centuries ago to worship God in
solitude.

Although actual historical data relating to the bygone days of
Hampstead are few, it is possible, with the aid of a little
imagination, to call up various pictures of different stages in its
long life-story which, even if not strictly accurate in detail, may
serve to give a fairly true impression.  When, for instance, Ranulph
Pevrel brought his bride to the homestead of which he was the chief
villein, the whole of the present Heath and the surrounding districts
were wild uncultivated lands, with here and there a little clearing
representing the sites of the future villages of Highgate, Hendon,
Hornsey, Willesden, and Kilburn; whilst deep in the recesses {9} of the
woods were many bubbling springs, the fountain-heads of the Holbourne,
the name of which is preserved in that of Holborn, also called the
river of Wells, because of the many rills that fed it, but generally
known as the Fleet, which gave its name to Fleet Road in Haverstock
Hill, and Fleet Ditch and Fleet Street in London; the Brent, which
joins the Thames at Brentford; the Tybourne, or double brook, so called
because its two arms encircle the Isle of Thorney; and the Westbourne,
of which the rivulet beside which Godwin built his cell was one of the
many tributaries.

On the banks of these picturesque streams groups of pilgrims no doubt
often halted to rest on their way from London _viâ_ the Roman Watling
Street, to worship at the tomb of England's first martyr at St. Albans,
or at the nearer forest shrines dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, of
which there is known to have been one at Willesden, one at Muswell
Hill, where the Alexandra Palace now stands, and one at Gospel Oak,
which is supposed to owe its quaint name, of comparatively recent
origin, to the fact that portions of the Gospel used to be read beneath
a spreading oak at the ceremony of beating the bounds of the parish,
discontinued since 1896.

It is also certain that the Highgate and Hampstead forests were a
favourite hunting-ground of the civic authorities and wealthy citizens
of London, but this, of course, would check rather than promote the
opening out of the woodlands, and for more than a century and a half
after the Conquest there was little or no building on the northern
heights.  {10} Gradually, however, as the population of the city
increased, attention was drawn to the many advantages enjoyed by
Hampstead, of which its plentiful water-supply was the chief.  There
were many water-mills on the upper courses of the streams, whose
'clack,' according to a Norman writer of the twelfth century, was
delightful to the ear, and almost from time immemorial the Heath has
been looked upon as a paradise by the washerwomen of the neighbourhood,
who long enjoyed certain privileges, including that of washing the
linen of the royal family.  What is now called Holly Hill used to be
called Cloth Hill, because it was the public drying-ground, and even
now it is sometimes used for that purpose.

It seems certain that the chalybeate wells of Hampstead were known to
the Romans, but they were practically forgotten until the sixteenth
century, when they were rediscovered, but little notice was taken of
them until the close of the seventeenth century, when the value of
their medicinal properties was recognised and the foundations were laid
for the conversion of Hampstead into a fashionable health resort.  It
will be interesting to take a farewell look at the old-world hamlet on
the eve of its transformation, which can be done with the aid of a
Field Book in a manuscript volume now in the Hampstead Free Library,
describing a survey made in 1680, showing that waste lands stretched on
either side of the main road to London, and that there were but half a
dozen houses in what are now High and Heath Streets, of which one was
the King {11} of Bohemia Tavern, the site of which is occupied by one
bearing the same name, that keeps green the memory, dear to the people
of Protestant England, of the Elector Palatine Frederick V., who was
elected king of Bohemia in 1619.  There was also an inn where Jack
Straw's Castle now stands, and one known as Mother Haugh's not far
away.  The gibbet on which a murderer was hung in chains in 1693 rose
up on the west of the North End Road, and on the very summit of Mount
Vernon was the mill that gave its name to Windmill Hill.  Such were
some of the features of Hampstead when in in 1698 the Countess of
Gainsborough, on behalf of her infant son the earl, then lord of the
manor, gave to the poor of the parish the six acres of land that are
now known as the Well's Charity Estate, the administration of which was
entrusted to fourteen trustees, who appear to have been aware from the
first of the exceptional value of the chalybeate wells on the property.
They were of course careful to safeguard to the people to whom they
were responsible the right to drink the waters on the spot, and to
carry them away for use at home at certain hours of the day, but
subject to various restrictions.  They leased the well to a succession
of tenants, who exploited it with more or less success.  The temporary
booths and shelters that at first sufficed for the visitors to the well
were soon supplemented by substantial buildings, and a brisk trade was
done at the Flask Tavern in Flask Walk, where the waters were bottled,
that was only pulled down a few years ago, {12} and has been replaced
by a new inn bearing the same name.

Advertisements in the London press, notably one in the _Postman_ for
20th April 1700, reflect the efforts made by the lessees of the well to
attract custom, and prove that the waters were sold in various parts of
the city at the rate of 3d. per flask, and that the messengers who
fetched it from the well were expected to return the flasks daily.  The
public buildings which gathered about the famous chalybeate springs
included a long room in which balls and other entertainments were
given, a pump-room where the waters were dispensed, a public-house for
the supply of less innocuous drinks, a place of worship known as Sion
Chapel, which as time went on became a kind of Gretna Green, for any
one could be married in it for five shillings; raffling and other
shops, stables, and coach-houses.  Gardens, with an extensive
bowling-green, were laid out, and in fine weather open-air concerts
were given; in a word, no pains were spared to attract the _beau monde_.

A new era now began for Hampstead, for it became the fashion for London
doctors to recommend the drinking of the waters on the spot.
Novelists, including Fanny Burney and Samuel Richardson, laid the
scenes of some of their most exciting episodes at the spa, and on every
side stately mansions, standing in their own grounds, rose up for the
wealthy patrons who elected to have private residences at Hampstead.
What is still known as Well Walk, and was then a beautiful grove, was
the favourite promenade of the patients {13} who came to take the
waters, and some of the later buildings of the spa are still standing,
including the long room, that is now a private residence, after going
through many vicissitudes, it having at one time served as a chapel,
and at another as a barrack.

The fame of the Hampstead spa seems to have been fully maintained
throughout the whole of the eighteenth century, and many are the
descriptions in the contemporary press of the gay and, alas, often
rowdy scenes that took place in it; but at the beginning of the
nineteenth century, though the entertainments were still attended by
middle-class crowds, who replaced the aristocratic gatherings of days
gone by, faith in the efficacy of the waters died out, and all that now
recalls their fame is a commemorative drinking-fountain in Well Walk.
To atone for this, however, a reputation of a nobler kind than that of
a mere pleasure or health resort was growing up for Hampstead, for by
this time it had become the favourite home of many men and women of
genius, culture, and refinement, who were able to appreciate its
intrinsic charm, and by their association with it have conferred upon
it a lasting glory.  In some cases the actual houses, in others only
the sites of the houses occupied by them can be identified, and their
favourite open-air resorts have been again and again described.  In
what is now the High Street, in a stately mansion, part of which alone
remains, the site of the remainder being occupied by the Soldiers'
Daughters' Home, lived the high-minded politician Sir Henry Vane, and
from it he was taken in 1662 to be beheaded on Tower Hill, in spite of
the fact {14} that he had opposed the execution of Charles I. and had
been pardoned by Charles II.  Later, the same house was occupied by
Bishop Butler, and in the garden is still preserved the ancient
mulberry-tree beneath which he and his ill-fated predecessor loved to
sit.  A little lower down the hill still stands Rosslyn House, much
changed, it is true, since it was the home of the famous lawyer
Alexander Wedderburn, who became Lord Chancellor in 1793, for the
beautiful grove of Spanish chestnuts that once surrounded it is
replaced by the houses of Lyndhurst Road.

The poet Gay was a constant frequenter of the spa at Hampstead, and
often visited his friend, the brilliant essayist Sir Richard Steele, in
his charming retreat on the site of the present Steele's Studios,
opposite to which was the ancient hostelry, the Load of Hay.  Gay may
possibly often have met Addison and Pope, perhaps even have gone with
them to meetings of the famous Kit Cat Club at the Upper Flask Tavern,
now a private residence known as Heath House, to which Richardson's
heroine, Clarissa Harlowe, is said to have fled from her dissipated
suitor Lovelace, and in which lived for many years and died, the
learned annotator of Shakespeare, George Steevens, who bought the
tavern in 1771.

[Illustration: THE SPANIARDS, HAMPSTEAD HEATH]

To the Bull and Bush Inn, still standing in the Hendon Road, the great
painter Hogarth often repaired, and in its garden is a fine tree
planted by him, whilst later Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds used
frequently to visit it.  The actor {15} Colley Cibber, the more famous
David Garrick, and the poet Dr. Akenside, were fond of strolling on the
Heath, and to lodgings near the church came Dr. Johnson, who when there
sometimes received a call from Fanny Burney, who was often at the spa,
as is proved by her vivid description of it in _Evelina_.  At North End
House, now known as Wildwoods, not far from the Bull and Bush Inn,
lived the elder Pitt, Lord Chatham, during his temporary insanity, shut
up in a little room, with an oriel window looking out towards Finchley,
and the opening in the wall still remains through which his food and
letters were handed to him.  Caen Wood, or Kenwood House, was the
country seat of the great advocate, Lord Mansfield, whose London house
was burned by the Gordon rioters in 1780, and a short distance from it
is the famous hostelry of the 'Spaniards,' described by Dickens in
_Barnaby Rudge_ and alluded to in the _Pickwick Papers_, that is said
to have derived its name from its having been at one time occupied by
the Spanish ambassador to the court of James I.  To the 'Spaniards' the
followers of Lord George Gordon marched after their mad proceedings in
the City, and it was thanks to the courage and promptitude of its
landlord, Giles Thomas, that it and Caen House were saved from
destruction.

No less famous than the 'Spaniards' is the ancient inn known as 'Jack
Straw's Castle,' now transformed into a modern hotel, the name of which
has never been satisfactorily explained, for it is really impossible to
connect it with the devoted follower of Wat Tyler, with whom it was
long supposed to have been {16} associated.  To it the _beau monde_
used to repair after the races that were held on the Heath, before
Epsom and Ascot rivalled it in public favour.  Dickens and his friends
were fond of going to supper at Jack Straw's Castle in summer evenings,
and of late years it has been a favourite meeting-place of authors and
artists, Lord Leighton, amongst many others, having been a frequent
guest.

Within easy reach of the 'Spaniards' and Jack Straw's Castle, in a
house still named after him, dwelt the great lawyer Lord Erskine, who
defended Lord George Gordon at the latter's trial for high treason,
securing his acquittal; and the broad holly hedge dividing the garden
from the Heath, as well as the wood of laurel and bay trees, on what is
known as Evergreen Hill, are said to have been planted by his own
hands.  At Heath House, on the highest point of the Heath, lived Samuel
Hoare, the enlightened lover of literature and defender of the
oppressed, who was the first to advocate the cause of the negro in
England, and amongst his many distinguished guests were the poets
Samuel Rogers, Wordsworth, Crabbe, Campbell, and Coleridge, the noted
writer John James Park, the first historian of Hampstead, whose work,
on its Topography and Natural History, published in 1814, is still the
chief authority on the subject up to that date; the philanthropist
William Wilberforce, and the not less devoted Sir Samuel Buxton, who
succeeded him in 1824 as leader of the anti-slavery party.

Bolton House, on Windmill Hill, was long the home of the cultivated
sisters Joanna and Agnes {17} Baillie, with whom Sir David Wilkie
sometimes stayed, and Mrs. Barbauld, whose husband was minister of the
Presbyterian chapel on Rosslyn Hill, lived first in a house near to
them, and later in one in Church Row.  Mrs. Siddons, after her
retirement from the stage, occupied for several years the house known
as Capo di Monte, overlooking the beautiful Judges' Walk, beneath the
elms of which assizes are said to have been held in 1663, when the
Great Plague of London was raging.  The poet-painter William Blake
sometimes stayed at a farm at North End, the same later frequented by
John Linnell; and the Vale of Health, in which stood the picturesque
cottage owned by Leigh Hunt, will be for ever associated with the
memory of that eloquent writer and of the greater John Keats, Percy
Bysshe Shelley, and Lord Byron, all of whom are known to have visited
him there.  Keats was with him for some days in 1816, and in 1817 took
rooms in what is now No. 1 Well Walk, where he wrote the greater part
of _Endymion_.  Later he went to board with his friend Charles Armitage
Brown in a house at the bottom of John Street, known as Lawn Bank, and
marked by a tablet, next door to which lived Charles Wentworth Dilke,
later editor of the _Athenæum_, by whom the poet was introduced to
Fanny Brawne, with whom he fell in love at first sight.  _Hyperion_,
the _Eve of St. Agnes_, and five of the six celebrated sonnets were
written at Lawn Bank, and Keats was looking forward to his marriage
with his beloved Fanny when the illness which was to prove fatal began.
She and her mother nursed him with the {18} utmost devotion, but
nothing could save him, and he was already doomed when he left them to
go to Rome in 1821.  His memory is still held in great honour in
Hampstead, but it was reserved to an American lady, Miss Anne Whitney,
who presented his bust to the Parish Church in 1895, to give practical
proof of a desire to do him honour in the district he loved so well.

The Arctic explorer, Sir Edward Parry, is said to have had his
headquarters at Hampstead; Prince Talleyrand lived in Pond Street
during his exile from France; and Edward Irving, founder of the
Irvingite sect, is said to have had a house there for a short time.
The historian Sir Thomas Palgrave resided on the Green from 1834 to
1861; the poet William Allingham died in Lyndhurst Road in 1889; the
novelist Diana Muloch, and the less celebrated Elizabeth Meteyard, were
often in the neighbourhood.  The mother of Lord Tennyson shared
Rosemount, in Flask Walk, with her daughter, and was often visited
there by her illustrious son.  Sir Rowland Hill, the famous
Postmaster-General, resided for thirty years and died at Bertram House,
near St. Stephen's Church, and Hampstead was long the home of the
novelist Sir Walter Besant and the well-known bibliophile Dr. Garnett.

What may perhaps be called the art era of Hampstead, when it became
associated with the names of the most distinguished painters of
England, was inaugurated at the end of the eighteenth century by the
arrival there of George Romney, who took a house on the hill long
supposed to have been that {19} now known as the Mount, in Heath
Street, though the recent discovery of a deed of tenancy seems to prove
it to have been Prospect House on Cloth Hill, now the Constitutional
Club.  However that may be, the artist soon found his new quarters too
small, and built on to them a large studio for the painting of historic
pictures, which Flaxman, who visited him in it, called a fantastic
structure, and in which, later, when it had become the Holly Bush
Assembly Rooms, Constable gave lectures on landscape painting to the
members of the Literary and Scientific Society of Hampstead.  Romney
did little or no work in Hampstead, for his health was already
undermined when he embarked on his new enterprise, and his sojourn left
no permanent impress on the neighbourhood, when he fled to Kendal to
die in the arms of his long-neglected wife.

Far otherwise was it with Constable, who has done more than any one man
to interpret for future generations what Hampstead was in the first
half of the nineteenth century, for the Heath and the grand views from
its summit inspired some of his finest landscapes, and many of his most
charming drawings give details of its scenery.  Even before his
marriage in 1816 Constable used constantly to go up to Hampstead from
his London lodgings to paint, and in 1821 he took a small cottage, No.
2 Lower Terrace, still very much what it was then, for his wife and
their three little children.  There they lived until 1826, when they
removed to the present No. 25 Downshire Hill, but in 1827 Constable
gave up his London studio, and settled down permanently {20} with his
family in Well Walk, at which house is uncertain, some saying it was
No. 40, others No. 46.  There his wife, to whom he was devotedly
attached, died, and her loss made him cling to Hampstead more closely
than ever.  She was buried in the churchyard of St. John, where later
her husband was laid to rest beside her.

[Illustration: CONSTABLE'S FIRS, HAMPSTEAD HEATH]

Though the fame of no one of them is quite equal to that of Constable,
many other resident artists have aided in maintaining the æsthetic
traditions of Hampstead.  Some of the best works of William Collins
were produced in a house on the Green, and his friend Edward Irving
often visited him there.  Sir Thomas Beechey retired to Hampstead after
his long career of activity; Edward Duncan, Edward Dighton, and Thomas
Davis, all resided for some time and died there.  Paul Falconer Poole
was looked upon as a Hampstead artist _par excellence_, for he worked
in the neighbourhood for some twenty-five years.  William Clarkson
Stanfield was devoted to the old town, and lived in what is now the
Public Library, in Prince Arthur Road, from 1847 to 1865, when he
removed to Belsize Park Gardens, then St. Margaret's Road, dying in his
new home in 1869.  Alfred Stevens, who lived for some time in
Hampstead, and died there in 1875, executed the beautiful monument to
the Duke of Wellington for St. Paul's, in the temporary church of St.
Stephen's, which he rented for the purpose.  The sculptor John Foley
passed away at the Priory, Upper Terrace, in 1874, and in 1888 Frank
Holl died in the house he had built for himself in Fitz-John's Avenue.
The last {21} twenty years of the long life of Miss Margaret Gillies,
one of the first Englishwomen to adopt art as a profession, were spent
at No. 25 Church Row, and Mrs. Mary Harrison, one of the first members
of what is now the Old Water-Colour Society, resided for sixteen years
and died at Chestnut Lodge.  Even more intimately associated with
Hampstead than any of these was George du Maurier, for he turned its
scenery and the familiar incidents of its Heath to account in many of
his clever drawings for _Punch_.  'It was,' says his friend Canon
Ainger, writing in the _Hampstead Annual_ for 1897, 'by the Whitestone
Pond that the endless round of galloping donkeys suggested to him the
famous caricature of the "Ponds Asinorum," and it was near a familiar
row of cottages at North End that he saw the little creature of eight
years old who told her drunken father "to 'it mother again if he
dared."'

[Illustration: CHURCH ROW, HAMPSTEAD]

Du Maurier brought home his bride in 1862 to a house in Church Row, and
it was there, and in New Grove House on the Upper Heath, to which he
removed later, that his best work was done.  He lived at Hampstead
through the exciting time of the boom in his famous novel _Trilby_,
which is said to have hastened his end, and on his death in 1896 he was
buried in the churchyard of St. John.

The Parish Church of Hampstead replaces, as already stated, a much
earlier chapel that was dedicated to the Blessed Virgin.  It was
completed in 1745, and successfully enlarged in 1747 under the auspices
of the beloved Canon Ainger, who was {22} vicar from 1876 to 1895.  It
is a typical example of the style of the period of its foundation, and
the ivy-clad tower that rises from the eastern end composes well with
its surroundings, the eighteenth-century houses of Church Row forming a
kind of avenue leading up to the main entrance.

The next oldest church in Hampstead is the Roman Catholic chapel of St.
Mary in Holly Place, built in 1816, whose first minister was the French
Abbé Morel, who was banished from France during the Revolution, and was
visited in his retreat by many famous exiles, including the Duchesse
d'Angoulême.  He became so attached to his English home that he refused
to return to his native land when he was recalled, and he died at
Hampstead in 1852, leaving behind him a great reputation for sanctity.
The year of his death was completed the Protestant church of Christ
Church--the lofty spire of which is a notable landmark--associated with
the memory of the Rev. Dr. Bickersteth, who, after ministering in it
for thirty years, became Bishop of Exeter; and later were erected the
churches of St. Saviour and St. Stephen's, that have been supplemented
by many other places of worship of different denominations, so that the
parish presents indeed a remarkable contrast to the time when the
little sanctuary on the hill met the needs of the whole district.

To a certain Mrs. Lessingham belongs the unenviable distinction of
having been the first to alienate public land on the Heath by
enclosing, in 1775, the grounds of what is still known as Heath {23}
House.  Her right to do so was contested, but at the trial which ensued
she came off victorious, and an example was set which has been all too
often followed.  The jury actually decided that the land in dispute was
of no value, and the vital question at issue, of the power of the lord
of the manor to grant permissions for enclosure, was left undecided.
Not until 1870 were any really efficient steps taken to preserve for
the people the use of the beautiful Heath, but at that date the nucleus
of the present extensive estate was secured in perpetuity.  Two hundred
acres of land were then bought by the Metropolitan Board of Works, and
to them were later added the 265 acres of Parliament Hill, the name of
which is said by some to commemorate the fact that the conspirators of
the Gunpowder Plot watched from it for the blowing up of the Houses of
Parliament, whilst others associate it with Cromwell's having placed
cannon on it to defend the capital.  In 1898 the property of the nation
on the northern heights was still further augmented, through the
combined efforts of many public societies and private individuals, by
the acquisition of the celebrated and beautifully laid out Golder's
Hill estate, with the house that once belonged to David Garrick, and
was used as a convalescent home for soldiers after the South African
war.

Hampstead Heath, with its dependencies, is now universally acknowledged
to be one of the most beautiful of the many beautiful open spaces near
London, and is the resort on Sundays and Bank {24} holidays of
thousands of pleasure-seekers.  The views from it, especially from
Parliament Hill, are magnificent, embracing London with the dome of St.
Paul's, the Tower, and the Houses of Parliament, the Surrey Hills,
Harrow, Highgate, Hendon, and Barnet, differing but little, if at all,
from what they were when Leigh Hunt and John Keats enjoyed them, and
Constable painted his famous landscapes.



{25}

CHAPTER II

HIGHGATE, HORNSEY, HENDON, AND HARROW

[Sidenote: Highgate]

Perched on a hill that is twenty-five feet higher than the loftiest
point of Hampstead Heath, Highgate originally commanded as fine a
prospect as it, but unfortunately many of the best points of view are
now built over, though from the terrace behind the church, and parts of
the cemetery, some idea can still be obtained of the beautiful scene
that was the delight of Hogarth and of Morland, of Coleridge and
Wordsworth, and many other artists and poets who, at one time or
another, resided on the hill.

The name of Highgate is generally supposed to be derived from the
Tollgate that used to stand at the entrance to the Bishop of London's
park, a two-storied house of red brick, built over an archway that was
pulled down in 1769, and to which there are many references in the
ancient records of Middlesex.  Norden, for instance, in the _Speculum
Britanniæ_ bearing date 1593, says: 'Highgate, a hill, over which is a
passage, and at the top of the same hill is a gate through which all
manner of passengers have their waie; the place taketh the name of this
highgate on the hill....  When the {26} waie was turned over the saide
hill to leade through the parke of the Bishop of London, there was in
regard thereof a toll raised upon such as passed that waie by carriage.'

The Gate House Inn, though considerably modified, still remains to
preserve the memory of the building at which the tolls were levied, and
in it the quaint ceremony of swearing on the horns was practised until
quite late in the nineteenth century.  On the subject of this ceremony
there has been of late years much learned controversy, but the most
plausible explanation of its origin appears to be that the horns--after
which, by the way, so many London inns are named--on which the oath was
sworn, were merely the symbol of the gatekeeper's right to exact toll
from the drovers of the sheep or cattle who passed beneath the archway.
The conversion of the custom into an apparently unmeaning farce was
probably the result of a harmless frolic indulged in by some gay young
travellers that, to use a slang expression, 'took on' with the public,
and was gradually expanded into the complex burlesque purporting to
give the initiated, by virtue of the oath on the horns, the freedom of
Highgate.  The ceremony has often been described, and is referred to in
the much quoted lines of Byron, who, with a party of friends, once took
the oath:--

  'Many to the steep hill of Highgate hie,
  Ask ye Boeotian shades the reason why:
  'Tis to the worship of the solemn horn,
  Grasp'd in the holy hand of mystery,
  In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn,
  And consecrate the oath with draught and dance till morn.'


{27}

Until about 1850 it was customary at the inn to stop every stage-coach
that passed, and from its passengers select five to whom to administer
the oath.  These five were led into the principal room, the horns,
mounted on a long pole, were produced, and in the presence of a number
of witnesses the neophytes were compelled to listen uncovered to the
following absurd speech from the landlord:--

'Take notice what I now say ... you must acknowledge me to be your
adopted father.  I must acknowledge you to be my adopted son.  If you
will not call me father, you forfeit a bottle of wine.  If I do not
call you son, I forfeit the same.  And now, my good son, if you are
travelling through this village of Highgate and you have no money in
your pocket, go, call for a bottle of wine at any house you may think
proper to enter, and book it to your father's score.  If you have any
friends with you, you may treat them as well, but if you have any money
of your own you must pay for it yourself, for you must not say you have
no money when you have....  You must not eat brown bread when you can
get white, unless you like brown the best....  You must not kiss the
maid while you can kiss the mistress, unless you like the maid best,
but sooner than lose a good chance you may kiss them both.  And now, my
good son, I wish you a safe journey through Highgate and this life.  I
charge you, my good son, that if you know any in this company who have
not taken this oath, you must cause them to take it or make each of
them forfeit a bottle of wine....  So now, my son, God bless you; kiss
the {28} horns or a pretty girl if you see one here, whichever you like
best, and so be free of Highgate.'

The horns or the girl duly kissed as the case might be, and the oath
administered, other absurd speeches were made, the farce often ending
in somewhat rowdy merriment.  Long after the custom was discontinued,
too, the crier of Highgate kept a wig and gown in readiness to be
donned by any one desirous of obtaining the freedom of Highgate, and
the expression 'he has taken the oath' came as time went on to signify
he knows how to look after his own interests.  In the Gate-House Inn a
huge pair of mounted horns is still preserved, and a few years ago a
party of enthusiastic local antiquarians amused themselves by going
through the ancient farce according to the best authenticated
traditions, but whether any of the newly made freemen availed
themselves of the privilege of kissing mistress or maid is not recorded.

One of the earliest historical references to Highgate is in the grant
made by Edward III. in 1363 to a certain William Phelippe, 'as a reward
for his care of the highway between Highgate and Smithfelde, of the
privelege of taking customs of all persons using the road for
merchandize,' and it has been suggested that this Phelippe may have
been one and the same with the 'nameless hermit' who preceded the holy
man William Litchfield, to whom in 1386 the Bishop of London gave, to
quote his own words, 'the office of the custody of our chapel of
Highgate beside our Park of Hareng, and of the house to the same chapel
annexed.'  This chapel and hermitage were successively occupied by
several recluses, the {29} last of whom is supposed to have been a
certain William Foote, on whom they were conferred in 1531.  The
dwelling-house was given in 1577, by Queen Elizabeth, to a favourite
_protégé_ of hers named John Farnehame, whose lease was later
transferred to the founder of the 'Publique and Free Grammar School of
Highgate,' Sir Roger Cholmeley, Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench
under Edward VI., who fell into disgrace with Queen Mary, and after
suffering imprisonment for some years, lived in great retirement at
Hornsey.  Sir Roger obtained a licence to build a school, and Bishop
Grindal gave him the old Hermitage Chapel, with two acres of land,
under certain conditions, one being that the people of Highgate as well
as the pupils should have the use of the chapel.  It was to serve, in
fact, as a kind of chapel of ease to Hornsey, an incidental proof that
there were already at the time of the agreement a number of inhabitants
in the hamlet of the Highgate.  Sir Roger Cholmeley died before the
projected work was begun, but his wishes were carefully carried out by
his trustees, and the first stone of the institution, which was to have
such a long career of usefulness, was laid in 1576.

It does not appear quite clear whether the old Hermitage Chapel was
pulled down to give place to a new one, or enlarged to meet the needs
of the increased congregation, but in any case the school chapel was
the only place of worship in Highgate until 1834, when the parish was
separated from Hornsey, and the fine Gothic church of St Michael, the
lofty spire of which is a landmark for many miles {30} round, was
erected.  Five years later the cemetery, that is still the most
beautiful suburb of the dead near London, was consecrated, and since
then many famous men and women have been buried in it, including the
philosopher and chemist Michael Faraday; the eloquent writer Henry
Crabb Robinson; the lawyers Judge Payne and Lord Lyndhurst; the artists
John James Chalon, Sir William Ross, and John George Pinwell; the
poet-painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti; the theologian Frederick Maurice;
the novelists George Eliot and Mrs. Henry Ward; the pugilist Tom
Sayers; and the no less celebrated cricketer John Lillywhite.

For many years the land round the old school chapel had served as a
cemetery, and in it was buried in 1534 the poet Samuel Coleridge, who
had lived for many years in Highgate, and when a year later the old
school chapel was replaced by the present one, a beautiful Gothic
building designed by Cockerell, it was wisely decided to erect the
latter over the tomb, that is now enclosed in a crypt approached by a
flight of steps from the western side of the building.  The new
schoolhouse, classrooms, etc., completed in 1869, that replace those
that had been in use for some four centuries, and in which many men of
note were educated, including Nicolas Rowe the dramatist, harmonise
well with the chapel, and the institution bids fair long to maintain in
the future the reputation it won in the past.

[Illustration: A BIT OF OLD HIGHGATE]

Highgate no doubt owed its early prosperity and rapid growth during the
last hundred and fifty years to its situation at the junction of the
two main roads {31} from London that meet in the High Street, not far
from the old village green, in the midst of which there used to be a
pond, now filled in and planted with trees, round about which the
village lads and lasses were wont to dance, and the elder residents to
gather to gossip of a summer evening.  Before the Bishop of London
consented in 1386 to allow a road to be made through his park, Highgate
could only be reached by a narrow lane, by way of Crouch End, Muswell
Hill, and Friern Barnet, but the new thoroughfare very quickly became
the chief highway to the north, and is associated with many noteworthy
events and royal progresses.  It remained, indeed, without a rival
until the beginning of the nineteenth century, when an Act of
Parliament was passed sanctioning a licensed company to make a way from
the foot of Highgate Hill to join the main road, a principal feature of
which was the piercing of a tunnel seven hundred and sixty-five feet
long by twenty-four wide and nineteen high, which, alas, was but poorly
engineered, for it fell in with a great crash before it was opened to
traffic.  The tunnel was then replaced by the present fine archway,
spanning the road, that was completed in 1813, and for the use of which
a toll was levied until 1876, when it was finally remitted.

Unfortunately the once beautiful village of Highgate has of late years
been transformed into a somewhat prosaic suburb, but a few relics
remain to bear witness to more picturesque days gone by.  At the foot
of the ascent, a little above the Archway Tavern, opposite the Dick
Whittington public-house, {32} is a railed-in stone supposed to occupy
the exact site of the one on which the penniless boy, the future Sir
Richard Whittington, rested, weary and worn from his long tramp on
foot, and heard the bells ring out: 'Turn again, Whittington, thrice
Lord Mayor of London Town.'

Within sight of this stone are the Whittington Almshouses, that
represent those of the ancient foundation of Sir Richard in Paternoster
Row, and were built in 1822 by the Mercers Company, as trustees of the
Lord Mayor's will made in 1421, bequeathing the funds for erecting and
endowing a college of priests and choristers, and building homes for
thirteen poor men.  With their picturesque chapel and general air of
comfort, it must be owned that they contrast favourably with the
ancient almshouses not far off in Southwood Lane, that were founded in
1658 by Sir John Wollaston, and added to seventy years later by Edward
Pauncefoot.

Within the grounds of Waterlow Park, part of which was given to the
public by Sir Sydney Waterlow, is the famous Lauderdale House, built
about 1650, that was long the residence of the infamous Viceroy of
Scotland under Charles II., the Duke of Lauderdale, who was probably
often visited in it by his venial tool, Archbishop Sharp.  To
Lauderdale House the dissipated king brought the merry-hearted Nell
Gwynn, and it was here that she is said to have forced her royal lover
to acknowledge himself to be the father of her boy, the future Duke of
St. Albans, by threatening to drop the child out of the window if he
refused to do so.

{33}

Quite close to Lauderdale House, in a cottage that was pulled down in
1869, lived the poet-patriot Andrew Marvell, who was the friend of
Milton and the bitter enemy of his fair neighbour Nell Gwynn, who tried
in vain to soften his animosity.  Opposite to Marvell's cottage, in
Cromwell House, now a branch of the Ormond Street Children's Hospital,
resided General Ireton and his wife Bridget, the daughter of the
Protector; and a little higher up, in what is now called the Bank, was
Arundel House, the seat of the Earls of Arundel, supposed to have been
at one time the residence of Sir Thomas Cornwallis, and to have been
visited by Queen Elizabeth in 1589 and James I. in 1604.  It is,
however, more famous as having been the death-place of Francis Bacon,
who expired in it in 1626, his end having been hastened, it is
popularly believed, through an experiment he tried on his way from
London with a view to finding out whether flesh could be preserved in
snow.

The courageous William Prynne, who was so cruelly maltreated on 30th
June 1637, and his fellow-sufferers for conscience' sake, Dr. Bastwick
and the Rev. Henry Burton, were often at Highgate; to the house of Sir
Thomas Abney, Dr. Watts came more than once; and the famous Jacobite
prelate, Bishop Atterbury, was the frequent guest of his brother Dr.
Atterbury, when the latter was minister of Highgate chapel.  In a house
on the Green lived and died Dr. Henry Sacheverel, the leader of the
Tory party in the struggle of 1709, and the intimate friend of Addison.
Sir Richard Baker, author of the _Chronicles of England_, who died in
the Fleet Prison in great {34} poverty in 1645, wrote much of his
valuable work in a house on the Hill.  The famous Calvinistic
Methodist, Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, who chose the eloquent
preacher Whitefield as one of her favourite chaplains, resided for some
time in Highgate; and Church House on the Green was long the home of
Sir John Hawkins, the author of the _Standard History of Music_, who
used to drive to London every day in a coach and four.

Hogarth, whilst he was apprentice to a silversmith, was fond of going
to the still standing but much altered Flask Inn, outside which the
Whitsun morris-dancers used to foot it merrily for the 'honour of
Holloway,' as described in the popular comedy _Jack Dunn's
Entertainment_, first published in 1601.  The great painter is said to
have delighted in making sketches of the frequenters of the bar at the
Flask Inn, especially of the tipsy brawlers, whose distorted grimaces
he hit off to the life.  At another well-known hostelry, the Bull Inn,
on the Great North Road, looking down upon Finchley, George Morland, an
artist of a very different type to Hogarth, was a familiar figure, for
he found plenty of congenial subjects near by, and was on friendly
terms with the drivers of all the stage-coaches that halted at the
tavern.  He used, it is said, to settle his score with mine host with
sketches which, if they could now be traced, would be worth as many
hundreds of pounds as shillings they then represented.

Occupying a commanding position on the west of the Green was the
stately mansion Dorchester {35} House, the seat of Henry, Marquis of
Dorchester, from whom it was purchased in the reign of Charles II. by
the eccentric philanthropist William Blake, who turned it into a school
that ceased to exist in 1688.  The mansion, after various vicissitudes,
was pulled down; and in one of the houses, now No. 3 The Grove, that
were built on its site, the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge lived as the
paying-guest of a surgeon named Gilman for nineteen years.  There he
was often visited by Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Leigh Hunt, Charles
Lamb, Henry Crabb Robinson, Edward Irving, Mr. and Mrs. Cowden
Clarke--the latter of whom has eloquently described her stay with the
poet in her charming book, _My Long Life_--and Thomas Carlyle, who
dwelt enthusiastically on the glorious view from the windows of the
house, that is still, by the way, much what it was in Coleridge's time.

The parish church of Highgate, in which there is a tablet with a long
inscription to the memory of Coleridge, and part of the cemetery occupy
the site of the mansion-house built in 1694 by Sir William Ashurst,
then Lord Mayor of London, and the villas of the present Fitzroy Park
replace a fine old house erected in 1780 by Lord Southampton, and named
after him.  In one of the new houses on this beautiful estate lived the
well-known sanitary reformer Dr. Southwood Smith, and near to the Park
is Dufferin Lodge, the seat of Lord Dufferin, that was the maiden home
of the eloquent writer, the Honourable Mrs. Norton, grand-daughter of
Richard Brinsley Sheridan.

{36}

In a little house known as the Hermitage, on West Hill, where a modern
terrace now stands, and opposite to which there used to be an ash-tree
popularly supposed to have been planted by Nelson when he was a boy,
dwelt the notorious gambler Sir Wallis Porter, who was often joined
there by the Prince Regent; and it was in it that the forger Henry
Fauntleroy is said to have long lain hidden from the officers of the
law in search of him.  In Millfield Lane, and in the charming little
Ivy Cottage, now enlarged and known as Brookfield House, the famous
comedian, Charles Mathews, dwelt for many years.  Millfield Cottage,
next door to it, was for a time a favourite retreat of John Ruskin, and
in the same lane, as related by Leigh Hunt in his _Lord Byron and his
Contemporaries_, John Keats presented his brother poet with a volume of
his poems, the first of many generous gifts.

West Hill, Highgate, is associated with several interesting memories.
It was on it that Queen Victoria, in the year after her accession, was
saved from what might have been a very serious accident by the landlord
of the neighbouring Fox and Crown Inn, who arrested the frightened
horses of the royal carriage, at the risk of his own life, as they were
dashing down the steep descent.  In West Hill Lodge the poets William
and Mary Howitt lived and worked for several years, and not far from
their old home is Holly Lodge, once the residence of the Duchess of St.
Albans, and long the home of the generous and hospitable Baroness
Burdett-Coutts, a worthy successor of her aristocratic predecessor, who
{37} built in Swain's Lane hard by a group of model cottages known as
Holly Village.

In the picturesque cottage opposite to the chief entrance to the
grounds of Holly Lodge the philanthropist Judge Payne died in 1870;
David Williams, founder of the Royal Literary Fund, and Dr. Rochemond
Barbauld, husband of the authoress, were at different times ministers
of the Presbyterian chapel in Southwood Lane; and on the site of the
once notorious Black Dog Tavern, on the hill going down to Holloway,
are the chapel and home of the Passionist Fathers, from which, instead
of the ribald songs of drunken revellers, perpetual prayers now go up
for the restoration of England to the mother church of Rome.

[Sidenote: Hornsey]

Little now remains of the beautiful forests which were for many
centuries one of the most distinctive characteristics of the northern
heights of London, though there are still some unenclosed portions of
the vast estate that belonged to the Bishop of London, such as Highgate
and Caen Woods, where it is possible to forget for a time the near
neighbourhood of the ever-growing towns of Hampstead and Highgate.
Equally rapid has been the transformation of the two mother parishes of
Hendon and of Hornsey, that from isolated picturesque villages have
grown into suburbs of the great metropolis.  The latter especially
retains scarcely anything to recall the days when it was a favourite
summer retreat of the Bishop of London, who had a palace in the park of
Haringay, as it was called, until the time of Elizabeth, on Lodge Hill,
on the outskirts of {38} what later became the property of Lord
Mansfield.  The little forest hamlet of Haringay, in which the bishop's
retainers used to live, was probably situated in the heart of the wood,
now replaced by Finsbury Park, and its one inn, pulled down so recently
as 1866, became in course of time first a noted tea-house, and later a
place of resort of the aristocracy, who used to practise
pigeon-shooting in its garden.

With Hornsey Park are associated many interesting historic memories.
It was, for instance, in it that the discontented nobles used to meet
to concert measures against the hated favourite of Richard II., Robert
de Vere, Earl of Oxford.  In its palace the Duchess of Gloucester and
her confederates, the astrologer Richard Bolingbroke and the Rev. Canon
Southwell, concocted the plot against the life of Henry VI., and it was
there that the last-named was accused of invoking at the celebration of
mass the blessing of God on the evil enterprise, an incident turned to
account by Shakespeare in his play of _Henry VI_.  Through Hornsey and
Highgate rode Richard III. when still Duke of Gloucester, after the
sudden death of Edward IV., accompanied by the doomed boy-king Edward
V., and it was in the outskirts of the park that the royal procession
was met by the mayor and corporation of London.  Almost on the same
spot Henry VII. was later welcomed by the loyal citizens of his capital
on his way back from a successful expedition against Scotland, and
there is a tradition that after the execution at Smithfield, in 1305,
of the Scottish patriot Sir William Wallace, his dismembered remains
were {39} allowed to rest for a night, on their way north, in the
bishop's chapel.

The ivy-clad tower, bearing the arms of Bishops Savage and Warham, who
occupied the see of London, the former from 1497 to 1500, the latter
from 1500 to 1504, is all that now remains of the ancient church of
Hornsey that was founded at the end of the fifteenth century.  The new
building that was skilfully added on to the tower was begun in 1832,
and is said to have been constructed of the materials of the bishop's
palace.  It contains little of interest except a kneeling effigy of a
certain Francis Masters, a boy of about sixteen, and the monument to
the Rev. Dr. Atterbury, removed from Highgate Chapel on its demolition,
but in the churchyard is the tomb of the poet Samuel Rogers, who died
in London in 1855.

[Sidenote: Hendon]

Hendon, which for many centuries has enjoyed the singular privilege,
first granted in 1066, of immunity from all tolls, has retained far
more of its ancient rural character than either Highgate or Hornsey,
for in spite of the many modern villas that have of late years sprung
up within its boundaries, it is still a village in touch with the open
country.  Its church, though not architecturally beautiful, is finely
situated on a lofty hill, and its picturesque, well laid out
churchyard, in which rest Nathaniel Hone the painter and Abraham
Raimbach the engraver, commands a charming and extensive view, taking
in Harrow, Edgware, Stanmore, Elstree, and Mill Hill, with the distant
heights of Buckinghamshire and Hertfordshire.

{40}

The ancient manor of Hendon belonged at the time of the Conquest to the
abbots of Westminster, but changed hands many times between the twelfth
and eighteenth centuries.  The old manor-house (replaced first by an
Elizabethan mansion and later by the present Hendon Place, built about
1850) was sometimes occupied by the ecclesiastical owners, and in it,
as the guest of the reigning abbot of Westminster, Cardinal Wolsey
rested in Holy Week 1530 on his way from Richmond to York after his
fall.  In 1757 the manor-house was sold by the Earl of Powis, to whose
family it had long belonged, to the actor David Garrick, since whose
death it has changed hands more than once.

The various rivulets that unite to form the Brent take their rise in
Hendon parish, and within its bounds is the beautiful open space, three
hundred and fifty acres in extent, known as the Wyldes, a name that
probably means the lonely or the unenclosed, that was for more than
four centuries the property of Eton College, to which it was given in
1449 by the founder, Henry VI.  Part of this fine estate has recently
been bought for the public and added to Hampstead Heath, and the
remainder, if the necessary funds can be collected, is to be acquired
for the formation of a garden suburb, which, if it is ever laid out
according to the present plans, will be an ideal addition to the
attractions of the northern heights of London.  The ancient home farm
of the Wyldes is still standing on the edge of Hampstead Heath, but it
remains a private residence, and is not included in the scheme of
purchase.  {41} Its fine barns and outhouses have been thrown into one
house, the red-tiled roofs and weather-boarded walls of which present
very much the same appearance that they did several centuries ago, and
the quaint old homestead, long known as Collin's Farm, but now renamed
the Wyldes, has long been a favourite haunt of artists and authors.  In
it the painter John Linnell and his family resided for a long time,
receiving amongst their many guests Constable, Morland, and Blake; and
when they removed to London in 1827 their rooms were occupied
successively by Samuel Lever, Charles Dickens, and Birket Foster.  Ford
Madox Brown, Edward Carpenter, the Russian author Stepniak, and Olive
Schreiner were often at the Wyldes; and the whole neighbourhood of
Hendon was dear to Mrs. Alfred Scott Gatty, the authoress of _Parables
from Nature_, who spent much of her girlhood at the vicarage.

Within an easy walk of Hendon, on the right bank of the Brent, is the
still picturesque village of Kingsbury, supposed to occupy the site of
one of Cæsar's camps, and to have got its name from its having been the
property of King Edward the Confessor, who gave it to the Abbey of
Westminster.  The quaint little church of St. Andrew, said to be built
of Roman bricks and to retain traces of Saxon work, all now hidden in a
coating of rough cast, is set on a hill amidst venerable elm-trees
dominating the village, which contains many typical old-fashioned
cottages, and on the east is the beautiful Kingsbury Lake, or Welsh
Harp, an artificial reservoir some three hundred and fifty acres in
extent, formed on {42} the eastern course of the Brent as a source of
supply for the Regent's Park Locks, a most successful piece of
engineering work, presenting the appearance of a natural sheet of
water, that is a favourite haunt of a great variety of water-fowl, and
is well stocked with fish.  Unfortunately, the opening of the Welsh
Harp racecourse and station, both named after an ancient inn hard by,
has done much to destroy the peaceful seclusion of the beautiful
district of Kingsbury, but country lanes still lead from it in many
directions, in one of which, running eastward towards Edgware Road, is
the farmhouse called High or Hyde House, in which Oliver Goldsmith
lived for some time, calling his temporary home the Shoemakers'
Paradise, because of a tradition that it was built by a votary of St.
Crispin, the patron saint of workers in leather.  There many choice
spirits visited the poet, and Boswell relates that he once called at
the Shoemakers' Paradise, and Goldsmith being out at the time, he
nevertheless, 'having a curiosity to see his apartments, went in and
found curious scraps of descriptions of animals scrawled upon the walls
with a black lead pencil,' evidently notes for the _History of Animated
Nature_.

[Illustration: HARROW ON THE HILL]

Two miles north of Hendon, with which it is connected by a beautiful
lane leading through fields, is the village of Mill Hill, the church of
which, a somewhat commonplace structure, was founded in 1829 by the
philanthropist William Wilberforce.  Opposite to it is the
Congregationalist College, that occupies the site of the beautiful
Botanic Garden laid out by the well-known botanist Peter Collinson, the
{43} friend and fellow-worker of Linnæus, who was often with him at
Mill Hill; and not far off is St. Joseph's College of the Sacred Heart,
with a fine chapel and campanile, the latter surmounted by a statue of
the patron saint, that is a landmark for many miles round.

[Sidenote: Harrow]

From the loftier Highwood Hill, close to Mill Hill, a noble view is
obtained of the beautiful Harrow Weald, that stretches away in a
north-westerly direction to Harrow-on-the-Hill, and is dotted with
picturesque villages and hamlets, some of which are still unspoiled by
the invasion of the builder.  The Hill, crowned by the parish church
and famous school of Harrow, rises up abruptly from an undulating
plain, and forms a conspicuous feature of the whole neighbourhood, for
it is visible from many widely separated points of the northern,
southern, and south-western suburbs of London.  The name of Harrow,
that is a modern adaptation of the Herges of Doomsday Book, is
differently interpreted by scholars, some being of opinion that it
signifies the church, others the military camp on the hill.  In any
case, the manor was held soon after the Conquest by Archbishop
Lanfranc, and remained in the possession of his successors until 1543,
when Archbishop Cranmer exchanged it with Henry VIII. for other
property.  Three years later it was given to Sir Edward, afterwards
Lord, North, and after changing hands several times, it passed to the
Rushout family, to whose present representative it now belongs.

The exact site of the ancient manor-house of {44} Harrow is not known,
for its ecclesiastical owners early removed to a mansion at Haggeston,
now Headstone, near Pinner, supposed to have been close to the present
manor farm.  However that may be, it seems certain that in 1170, soon
after his return home from France, the great Archbishop Thomas à Becket
spent several days at Harrow-on-the-Hill, for the story goes that he
was on that occasion so grievously insulted by the rector of the
parish, the Rev. Nizel de Sackville, that he revenged himself by
excommunicating him from the altar of Canterbury Cathedral on the
following Christmas Day, just four days before his own assassination in
the same building.  The parish church of Harrow was built by Archbishop
Lanfranc, who died just before its consecration, a ceremony that was
performed by his successor, the greatly venerated St. Anselm, who, it
is related, was interrupted during the service by two canons sent by
the Bishop of London to contest his right to officiate on the occasion.
The sacred oil, it is said, was carried off by the emissaries, so that
the service could not proceed, and the point at issue was later
submitted to St. Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester, the sole remaining Saxon
prelate of England, who decided in favour of St. Anselm, since which
time the special rights at Harrow of the Archbishop of Canterbury have
never again been called in question.

[Illustration: "BYRON'S TOMB," HARROW]

All that now remains of the building associated with Archbishop
Lanfranc and St. Anselm is the lower portion of the tower, the western
gateway, which has well-preserved Norman pillars, and a finely {45}
sculptured lintel.  The massive stone font is, however, probably the
very one in which baptisms took place in the eleventh century.  The
main body of the present church--that was recently well restored and
enlarged under the direction of Sir Gilbert Scott--dates from the
fifteenth century.  Its most noteworthy features are the lead-encased
wooden spire, the stone porch with the priest's chamber above it, and
the open timber roof with figures of angels playing on musical
instruments on the corbels.  In the church are several interesting
fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth century brasses, and in the
churchyard is a much defaced ancient tombstone known as Byron's Tomb,
on which the poet, who was educated at Harrow, was fond of resting, and
to which he referred in an often-quoted letter to his publisher, Mr.
John Murray, dated May 26, 1822, and also in the well-known lines--

  'Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd,
    As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay;
  Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'd,
    To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray.'

The view from Byron's Tomb, now enclosed within railings, from the
terrace outside the churchyard, the school buildings, and other points
of vantage on the Hill, is not perhaps quite so inspiring as that from
Hampstead Heath immortalised by Constable, but there is a quiet charm
about it, and it is very extensive, embracing parts of Surrey,
Buckinghamshire, and Berkshire, with Windsor Castle, the Crystal
Palace, and Leith Hill Tower as its most conspicuous features.

{46}

The chief interest of Harrow is, of course, the famous school, that
ranks second only to Eton amongst the great centres of education in
England, and is intimately associated with the memory of many
distinguished men, including amongst the headmasters Dr. Vaughan, who
ruled from 1844 to 1859, and his successor Dr. Butler, who held office
until 1885; while amongst the students were the intrepid traveller
James Bruce, the Oriental Sir William Jones, the accomplished scholar
Dr. Samuel Parr, Admiral Lord Rodney, the witty writer Richard Brinsley
Sheridan, the novelist Theodore Hook, the statesmen Sir Robert Peel,
Lord Ripon, Lord Aberdeen, Lord Palmerston, and Sir Spencer Perceval,
Cardinal Manning, Archbishop Trench, the philanthropist Lord
Shaftesbury, and, most celebrated of them all, the poet Lord Byron.

Founded in 1571 by John Lyon, a yeoman of the hamlet of Preston, to
whom there is a fine brass in Harrow Church, the school had in it from
the first the elements of growth, and its interests were watched over
with untiring care for twenty years by its generous originator.  No
detail was too trivial for his consideration, and the statutes laid
down by him were eminently practicable yet sufficiently elastic to
allow of future development, though their simple-hearted author
certainly never dreamt of what that development was to be.  The
salaries of the masters, the books to be used, were all specified; and
it is a noteworthy fact that very special stress was laid on the
exercise of shooting, all parents being bound to give their boys
'bowstrings, shafts, {47} and braces,' that they might practise
archery, which at that time represented what rifle-shooting does now.
To arouse the ambition of the students, a prize of a silver arrow was
given every year to the best marksman out of six or twelve carefully
selected competitors, and it was not until 1771 that the ancient custom
was discontinued by the then headmaster, Dr. Heath, on account, he
said, of the rowdy crowds who used to flock from London to witness the
contests, and the serious interruption it caused in the routine of the
school work.  The butts at which the students, in picturesque costumes
of white and green, used to shoot, and the little hill on which they
stood, are gone, their place being taken by modern houses; but the
silver arrow made for the competition of 1772 is preserved in the
school library, a silent witness to John Lyon's recognition of the
fact, on which Lord Roberts and other enlightened patriots are now
laying such stress, that every boy should learn how to aid in the
defence of his native country.

The first endowment of Harrow School was made in 1575, when Lyon
bequeathed to the governors certain lands at Harrow and Preston; but it
was not until 1615, twenty years after his death, that his instructions
were carried out for the building of a 'large and convenient
schoolhouse, three stories high, with a chimney in it, and meet and
convenient roomes for the schoolmaster and usher to dwell in, and a
cellar under the said roomes to lay in wood and coales ... divided into
three several roomes, one for ye master, the second for ye usher, and
the {48} third for ye schollers.'  Until 1650 this house met all the
requirements of the institution, the students boarding, as they do now,
in outlying houses; and the big class-room, known for many generations
as the Fourth Form Room, with the three small apartments above it and
the attic called the Cockloft, still remain much what they were four
hundred years ago, and are venerated by all Harrovians as the most
ancient portion of their beloved school.  The rest of the present
buildings are all modern; a new wing with a speech-room, class-rooms,
and a library, were added in 1819, and in 1877 it was in its turn
supplemented by yet another speech-room.  The chapel now in use
replaces two earlier ones, and was built in 1857, after the designs of
Sir Gilbert Scott.  The Vaughan library, commemorating the headmaster
after whom it is named, was opened in 1863; and the beautiful Museum
buildings, that are perhaps the most satisfactory from an æsthetic
point of view of the recent erections, were completed in 1886.



{49}

CHAPTER III

  SOME INTERESTING VILLAGES NORTH OF LONDON,
  WITH WALTHAM ABBEY AND EPPING FOREST

Of the many beautiful villages north of London that have of late years
been transformed into suburbs of the ever-growing metropolis, few
retain any of their original character, or can, strictly speaking, be
called picturesque.  Tottenham, in spite of its fine situation, with
the river Lea forming its eastern and the New River its western
boundaries, is to all intents and purposes a town, the restored High
Cross, about which there has been so much learned controversy, the
ancient parish church, and two or three old houses near the green,
alone bearing witness to the good old times when the quaint poem of
_The Tournament of Tottenham_ was written.  It is much the same with
Edmonton, where, in the still standing Bay Cottage, Charles Lamb lived
for some time and died, and in the churchyard of which he and his
sister are buried, and where John Keats served his apprenticeship to a
surgeon and wrote his earliest poems.  It bears but a faint resemblance
to the village into which John Gilpin of immortal fame dashed on his
famous ride after {50} his vain attempt to pull up at the Bell Inn, on
the left-hand side of the road from London.  The once charming little
hamlet of Whetstone, too, a short distance further north, where,
according to local tradition, the soldiers halted to sharpen their
swords on the way to Barnet Field, is rapidly losing its rural
appearance.  On the other hand, the scattered settlement of Friern
Barnet--beyond the completely modernised Finchley--with its picturesque
church that retains a fine Norman doorway, is still quite a country
place; whilst Edgware, the two Stanmores, Elstree, High Barnet, East
Barnet, and Enfield, though they too are already marked for
destruction, are as yet full of the aroma of the past.  Edgware,
situated on the ancient Watling Street, prides itself on owning the
forge in which Handel, having taken refuge from a storm, was inspired
by the rhythmic beats of the hammer on the anvil with the famous melody
of the 'Harmonious Blacksmith'; and it also owns several quaint old
inns, one of which, the Chandos Arms, preserving the memory of the
great mansion--known as The Canons, because it occupied the site of a
monastery--that was built for the Duke of Chandos whilst he held the
lucrative post of paymaster to the forces, but was pulled down after
his death by his successor.  Fortunately, however, the richly decorated
private chapel of The Canons, in which Handel was organist from 1718 to
1721, and containing the organ on which he played, is still preserved
as part of the parish church of Little Stanmore, or Whitchurch, a
pretty village about half a mile from Edgware, and in its graveyard
Handel and the {51} blacksmith whose name is so closely associated with
his are buried not far from each other.

Great Stanmore, near to which are the eighteenth-century mansion known
as Bentley Priory, replacing a suppressed monastery, and the beautiful
Stanmore Park, the seat of Lord Wolverton, is beautifully situated on a
hill commanding very extensive views, and has two churches, one now
disused, containing some interesting seventeenth and eighteenth century
effigies, the other a somewhat uninteresting modern building.  The
chief charm of the old-fashioned village of Elstree, originally called
Eaglestree, because it was much frequented by eagles, is the fine
artificial reservoir haunted by water-fowl, which is nearly as
extensive as that of Kingsbury, and it also owns a beautiful old
Elizabethan mansion.

[Sidenote: High Barnet]

High Barnet, also known as Chipping Barnet, is a far more important
place than Edgware or the Stanmores, and is supposed to date from
Anglo-Saxon times.  Its site, with that of East Barnet, both once
covered with the forest of Southaw, belonged to the abbots of St.
Albans, to whom Henry I. granted the privilege of holding a weekly
market in it, and it is still the chief cattle-mart of the district, a
great fair taking place there every year in September.  The church,
dedicated to St. John the Baptist, founded in the early part of the
fifteenth century, and in which is a fine monument to Thomas
Ravenscroft, a local worthy of the seventeenth century, was originally
very characteristic of the time at which it was built, with a
well-proportioned nave and aisles, and square embattled tower; but it
has been added {52} to from time to time, with unsatisfactory results.
To make up for this, the ancient grammar-school, now used as a
dining-hall only, the charter of which was granted by Queen Elizabeth
to her beloved Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, is much what it was
when completed in 1575, the new buildings that supplement it being
quite distinct.

On the common, about a mile from High Barnet, there is a spring of
medicinal water that was held in high esteem in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, and is often referred to in contemporary records.
A farmhouse now occupies the site of the old spa, but the actual well,
though covered over, is even now occasionally resorted to by invalids,
to whom the water is supplied by means of a small pump.  The chief
claim to distinction of the village is, however, that it is near to the
scene of the great battle of 1471 between the Lancastrians and
Yorkists, at which the former were defeated, the mighty king-maker, the
Earl of Warwick, was slain, and Edward IV. firmly established on the
throne.

There has been much heated controversy concerning the actual place
where the great struggle took place, but it is now generally supposed
that the fiercest fighting occurred on Hadley Green, half a mile north
of Barnet, extending thence along the ridge sometimes called Gladsome
Heath, and sometimes Monken Mead.  An obelisk, locally known as the
Highstone, with a rudely carved inscription commemorating the victory,
was set up in 1740 by Sir Jeremy Sambook, about two hundred yards from
the spot where it now stands at the junction of the St. Albans {53} and
Hatfield roads, and the low ground sloping down from Monken Mead is
marked on old maps as Deadman's Bottom, an incidental proof that it was
there the bodies of the dead were buried after the battle.

[Sidenote: Monken Hadley]

The village of Monken Hadley, that is rapidly becoming a suburb of High
Barnet, is very picturesquely situated along a green and common, all
that now remain of the once famous Enfield Chase, and its fine old
church, built some twenty years after the great battle, and well
restored in 1845-50, looks down upon the scene of that historic event.
Not far from it still stands the trunk of a huge oak, that has been
identified as the 'gaunt and lifeless tree' on which, as related by
Lord Lytton in the _Last of the Barons_, Adam Warner was hanged by
Friar Bungay, and at the foot of which the victim's daughter fell down
insensible close to the shattered fragments of the mechanical invention
from which her father had hoped so much; and a little distance off is
an elm known as Latimer's, because the zealous Protestant after whom it
is named, who was later to die for his belief, is said to have
sometimes preached beneath it.

East Barnet, a pretty village nestling in a charming valley, is the
mother parish of the other communities of the same name, and its manor
was part of that of High Barnet at the time of the Conquest.  Its
church, recently enlarged and modernised, was founded as early as the
twelfth century, but it has few historic memories.  Some writers,
however, assert that it was from the house of Thomas Conyers {54} at
East Barnet that the unfortunate Arabella Stuart, whose marriage to
William Seymour so greatly incensed James I., escaped, disguised as a
man, on 3rd June 1611, only to be taken prisoner immediately after her
embarkation in the boat that was to have borne her to France, whence
she was removed to the Tower, there to die four years later, without
having again seen her husband.

[Sidenote: Enfield]

The extensive parish of Enfield, through which flows the New River, and
of which the Lea forms the eastern boundary, is divided into four
parts, known as the Town, the Chase, the Bull's Cross, and Green
Street.  It is finely situated on the borders of what was once a famous
royal hunting-ground, that although now almost entirely enclosed, is
not yet built over.  The actual town is one of the most prosperous of
the suburbs of London, for it is the seat of a thriving Government
small-arms factory, employing several hundred hands.  The whole
district is full of interesting historic memories, for even in the
eleventh century, as proved by the descriptions in Doomsday Book,
Enfield was a populous village, and the parish included no less than
eight manors--Enfield proper and Worcesters, that long belonged to the
Crown; Durants, Elsynge or Norris, Suffolks, Honeylands, Pentviches,
and Goldbeaters, each with a palace and park of its own.  The children
of Henry VIII. were educated at Enfield, and it was there that Prince
Edward heard of his father's death.  In 1552 the young king settled the
chief manor of Enfield on his sister Elizabeth, and also built for her
the palace, of which a small, but very picturesque, portion still {55}
remains in the High Street, but the future queen appears to have spent
the short time of liberty enjoyed by her before she was imprisoned by
the jealous Mary at Elsynge Hall, of which no trace is left.  It was
there, too, that she and her escort probably put up, when in 1557 her
indulgent gaoler, Sir Thomas Pope, allowed her to take part in a hunt
in Enfield Chase, and she certainly often held her court in it during
her long and prosperous reign.  Of the chief manor-house of Enfield all
that has been preserved is a fireplace incorporated in the library of a
private house in the so-called Old Park, whilst the mansion of
Worcesters, the other royal demesne, is represented by a
seventeenth-century house known as Forty Hall--in which, by the way,
there is a fine collection of pictures--designed by Inigo Jones for Sir
Nicolas Raynton, to whom the estate was given in 1616 by the then
owner, the Earl of Salisbury.

Of the other manor-houses of Enfield the memory alone survives, but the
neighbourhood is still rich in fine old private mansions, of which the
most note-worthy are Enfield Court and Foxhall, and on Chase side is an
ancient cottage in which Sir Walter Raleigh is said to have lived for
some time not far from which was the 'odd-looking gambogish house' in
which Charles Lamb, writing in 1825, declared he would like to spend
the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, the beautiful and characteristic Market Hall was pulled
down some little time ago, to be replaced by a modern and not very
satisfactory Gothic cross, and the church, that dates from the
thirteenth century, has lost much of its venerable {56} appearance
through injudicious restoration.  It still retains, however, several
well-preserved and most interesting monuments, including that to Lady
Tiploft, who died in 1446, one to Sir Nicolas Raynton and his wife, who
passed away two centuries later, and one to Mrs. Martha Palmer, the
last the work of Nicolas Stone, the famous seventeenth-century sculptor.

[Illustration: WALTHAM CROSS]

[Sidenote: Waltham Holy Cross]

Although, strictly speaking, neither Waltham Cross, Waltham Abbey, nor
Epping Forest can be called suburbs of London, they are in such
intimate touch with the capital, that a point may well be strained to
include them in a publication intended to serve to some extent as a
guide to beautiful places within easy reach of the city.  Waltham
Cross, a hamlet of Cheshunt, is specially noteworthy, as owning one of
the crosses (well restored in 1883) that were set up by Edward I. to
mark the resting-places of the body of his beloved queen Eleanor on the
way to her tomb at Westminster, and it also greatly prides itself on
the possession of the actual inn at which the bearers of the coffin
rested for a night, the signboard bearing the legend, 'Ye Old Four
Swannes Hostelrie, 1260.'  The town of Waltham Abbey, or Waltham Holy
Cross, that may possibly ere long be the seat of a new bishopric, a
low-lying, straggling settlement, intersected by the Lea, which here
divides into several branches, is a far more important place than its
namesake of Cheshunt parish, with which it is often confounded, for it
is the seat of a great Government gunpowder manufactory, the works of
which occupy an area of {57} some two hundred acres.  It owes its chief
fame, however, to what was once one of the grandest abbey churches of
England--of which the nave, that is amongst the oldest places of
worship in Great Britain, alone remains--that was built by Harold, the
last of the Saxon kings, on the site of an earlier one founded by Tovi
or Tovig, standard-bearer to Canute the Great, to enshrine a remarkable
crucifix that was found on his estate in Somersetshire.  The story goes
that the place where the precious relic had been buried for many
centuries was revealed in a dream to a smith, and that after it had
been dug up, an attempt was made to send it to Glastonbury.  The twelve
red oxen and twelve cows harnessed to the cart in which the crucifix
was placed, refused, however, to move in that direction, and Tovi
therefore bade the drovers make for Waltham or Wealdham, as the village
was then called, the name meaning the homestead in the forest.
Directly their heads were turned northwards the animals set off at so
rapid a pace that the escort could hardly keep up with them, and they
needed no guidance till they reached the site of the abbey, when they
halted of their own accord.  This was at once accepted as a proof that
it was the divine will that the church should be erected there, and the
work was begun at once, the crucifix meanwhile working many miracles in
the temporary shelter in which it was housed.  After the death of Tovi
the estate of Waltham was forfeited by his son Athelstan to King Edward
the Confessor, who gave it to his brother-in-law Harold.  The Saxon
earl, who was a very devout {58} Catholic, considered the church
unworthy of the priceless treasure it enshrined, and he lost no time in
having it pulled down, to replace it with a stately building that was
consecrated in 1060.  To it he often went to pray, the last time on the
eve of the battle of Senlac, when it was popularly believed that the
sad issue of the struggle was foreshadowed by a significant omen, for
as the king prostrated himself before the miraculous crucifix the
figure of the Lord bent its head, and gazed into the suppliant's face
with an expression of infinite sorrow.  But a few days afterwards the
dead body of the last of the Saxon kings was brought to the abbey he
had loved so well, and buried in front of the high altar, whence it is
said to have been later removed to a tomb some little distance from the
present church.  During the reign of Elizabeth this tomb was opened,
when it was found to contain the skeleton of a man of great stature,
but there is no absolute evidence that it was that of the unfortunate
Harold.

After being despoiled of its treasures by William the Conqueror, and
suffering many things at the hands of his successors, the beautiful
church of Waltham was given in 1187 to a branch of the Augustinian
order by Henry II., who added greatly to the monastic buildings and was
from the first a liberal patron of the abbey.  It was for many
centuries a favourite resort of the English kings, probably on account
of the fine hunting-grounds in its immediate neighbourhood, and it was
there that Henry VIII.  received from Cranmer the joyful news that a
device had been hit upon for justifying the {59} divorce from Katharine
of Aragon on which his heart was set.  It was at Waltham, too, that the
Reformation may in a certain sense be said to have begun, for it was
there that the king first decided on the drastic measures which
inaugurated it.  Harold's foundation shared the fate of the rest of the
religious houses, and was given to Sir Anthony Denny, to whom there is
a beautiful though much defaced monument in the church, that was well
restored in the early nineteenth century.  Of the monastic buildings,
however, that were associated with so many historic memories, the only
relics now remaining are a single gateway, a small vaulted chamber in a
market garden once part of the abbey grounds, a few fragments of the
walls, and some subterranean arches.  A quaint little bridge spanning
the Corn-Mill stream, a tributary of the Lea, is still called Harold's
Bridge, and a picturesque modern mill occupies the site of the one that
belonged to the monks of the abbey.

[Sidenote: Waltham Abbey]

The immediate neighbourhood of Waltham Abbey is still thoroughly rural
in character, well-watered undulating districts dotted here and there
with beautiful seats--amongst which Copped Hall and Warlies Hall are
the chief--replacing the forests which once extended over nearly the
whole of Essex, including with what is now known as Epping Forest, the
so-called Harold's Park--the name of which is still retained by a
farm--that was given by Richard I. to a branch of the Augustinian order.

At the ancient Copped Hall--so named from the {60} Saxon _cop_,
signifying the top of a hill--that occupied the site of the present
nineteenth-century mansion, the Princess Mary lived during the brief
reign of her brother, and from it she addressed in 1551 a remarkable
letter protesting against the prohibition to have mass celebrated in
her private chapel.  There, too, she received the messengers who
brought back the king's unfavourable reply, and gave to the chief of
them, no less a personage than the Lord Chancellor himself, a ring to
be delivered to His Majesty, who was to be informed 'that she would
obeye his commandements in all things excepte in theis matters of
religion towchinge the mass.'  It is noteworthy that three years later,
when the tables were turned on the Protestants by the accession of
Mary, the same Lord Chancellor should have received orders from her 'to
be presente at the burning of such obstinat persons as presently are
sent downe to be burned in diverse partes of the county of Essex.'

[Sidenote: Epping Forest]

Originally part of the great forest of Essex, the beautiful woodlands
of Epping, in spite of all the changes through which they have passed,
still retain something of their primeval character, and enshrine in
their recesses some few relics even of pre-Norman days, of which the
most noteworthy are the two camps of Ambresbury Banks and Loughton, for
each of which it has been claimed that it was the stronghold from which
Queen Boadicea watched the last stand of her army against the invaders,
and the massacre of the women and children who had come, as they fondly
hoped, to rejoice over a victory!  {61} Whether this or any of the many
other theories advanced be true, it is certain that long before the
Conquest, Epping Forest, which at that date included some sixty
thousand or seventy thousand acres, was the property of the Saxon
kings, and that in Norman times it was strictly preserved for the royal
pleasure, the game-laws being terribly severe and most rigidly
enforced.  The killing of a stag was in fact more severely punished
than the murder of a man, for in the former case the eyes of the
offender were put out, whilst for the latter crime a money payment was
often accepted.  The first king to sanction any disafforesting was
Stephen, who allowed certain districts to be cleared for cultivation,
and his example was followed by John, who reluctantly gave up the
portion north of the main road between Stratford and Colchester, the
concession having been wrung from him by the united barons, who
compelled him to sign the Charter of Forests, the wording of which is
very significant of the terrible oppression to which the people were
subjected at the time.  Later the concessions were confirmed by Henry
III. and by Edward I., who had at first shown signs of going back from
the promises of his predecessors, but in 1301 he was brought to a
better mind by means of a heavy bribe of money.  Gradually, through
grants to nobles, unauthorised enclosures, etc., the forest lands
belonging to the Crown were reduced to about a third of what they were
at the Conquest, and a survey made in 1793 estimated the still
uncultivated woods and wastes at twelve thousand acres only.  From that
date until the middle of the {62} nineteenth century the history of the
once magnificent forest was one of constant encroachment, one beautiful
tract after another having been sold and enclosed, for the officers of
the Crown interpreted their duty to be to turn the land to as great a
money profit as possible rather than to preserve it for the enjoyment
of its owners or of the people to whom at various times certain rights
had been granted.  In 1850 some six thousand acres only were left, and
in the next twenty years these were reduced to little more than half
that amount.  Fortunately, however, about this time public feeling
began to be aroused on the subject, and thanks to the enlightened
efforts of a number of influential men, amongst whom special
recognition is due to the members of the Commons Preservation Society,
the matter was brought before Parliament, and in 1882 five thousand
five hundred acres were bought by the Corporation of London for the
nation, including the woodlands beginning near Chingford and stretching
northwards beyond Theydon Bois, parts of which are still much what they
were when royal parties used to go forth to hunt from the palaces of
Chigwell, New Hall, and Writtle, and when the post of Lord Warden of
the Forest was eagerly sought by the great nobles, whilst a far less
picturesque portion extends southwards to Wanstead Flats and Aldersbook
Cemetery.

Some two miles from Waltham Abbey begins what is known as the
Sewardstone district, supposed to be named after a noted Saxon thane,
that is dotted with picturesque hamlets, from one of which, known as
Sewardstone proper, a pretty lane leads {63} to High Beech Green, a
straggling village that once belonged to the Priory, with a good modern
church, near to which is the loftiest point of the Forest: High Beech
Hill, 759 feet high, that commands a very beautiful view.  According to
popular tradition, Dick Turpin used to lie in wait in a cave at the
base of this hill for the travellers he intended to rob, undeterred by
fear of betrayal at the hands of the landlords of the neighbouring
Robin Hood and King's Oak inns, now represented by modern hotels, the
latter named after the stump of a venerable oak known as Harold's--the
very one that inspired _The Talking Oak_ of Tennyson, who wrote it and
_Locksley Hall_ in a house near by, since pulled down; whilst in the
still standing Fairmead House, then a private lunatic asylum, the
half-crazy peasant poet John Clare, who lived in it from 1837 to 1841,
composed some of his beautiful descriptions of the forest scenery.

It was from a height not far from the King's Oak that Queen Victoria,
on 6th May 1882, set a seal on the gift of the forest to the people by
declaring it free and open to them for ever, and on the south of Beech
Wood opens the beautiful lane that winds through the still virgin woods
to what is known as Queen Elizabeth's Hunting Lodge, supposed to occupy
the site of the original manor-house of Chingford Earls, the history of
which can be traced back to early Saxon times.  However that may be,
the lodge with its high-pitched roof and gables, its massive timber
supports and ceiling beams, projecting chimneys and wide ingle-nooks,
broad oak {64} staircases and spacious outside landings, the main
structure is a very typical example of fifteenth and sixteenth century
domestic architecture.  The fact that the highest landing is still
called the 'horse block' recalls the tradition that good Queen Bess
used to ride up to the door of the great reception-room at the top of
the house, and that she may have done so is proved by the fact that the
feat--not a very difficult one after all--was successfully achieved for
a wager some few years ago by a man on an unbroken pony.

[Illustration: EPPING FOREST, NEAR LOUGHTON]

The village of Chingford, or the King's Ford, close to the Lodge, and a
beautiful sheet of water, named after the present ranger, the Duke of
Connaught, is charmingly situated on the edge of the forest, and the
ancient church, now disused, about a mile from the new Gothic building
that has supplanted it, is extremely picturesque.  The parish
originally included two manors--the one already referred to in
connection with Queen Elizabeth's Lodge and that known as Chingford St.
Paul's, which, until it was seized by Henry VIII. belonged to the
Metropolitan Cathedral.  It was held before the Conquest by a Saxon
thane named Ongar, and the manor-house that replaced his old home, now
a farm, is still standing, though the present lord of the manor lives
in Hawkwood House a little distance off.

[Sidenote: Buckhurst Hill]

From Connaught Water a good road, known as the Green Ride, leads to
Ambresbury Bucks and Epping, and another called the Rangers to
Buckhurst Hill and Loughton.  Buckhurst Hill, from {65} which for many
years the famous Easter Hunt used to start, must once have been one of
the loveliest villages in the forest, and is still charming in spite of
the many new houses that have been built.  Its name has been very
variously explained, some supposing it to commemorate the aristocratic
poet of Elizabethan times, Lord Buckhurst, others that the original
form was Book Forest, signifying a tract reserved in otherwise open
moorlands by royal charter.  Before the Easter Hunt was transferred to
Beech Hill there were many descriptions in the contemporary press of
the scenes that used to take place at Buckhurst, notably one that
appeared in the _Morning Herald_ in the week after Easter 1826, in
which the writer gloats over the gay costumes worn 'by the three
thousand merry lieges then and there assembled' to watch the uncarting
of the stag that, when released, marched proudly down between an avenue
of horsemen 'wearing a chaplet of flowers round its neck, a girth of
divers-coloured ribbons, and a long blue-and-white streamer depending
from the summit of its branching horns, adding that when it caught a
glimpse of the hounds and huntsmen waiting for it, it bounded sideways,
knocking down and trampling all who crowded the path it chose.'  The
account ends by stating that the stag was finally caught at Chingford,
'nobody knows how, for everybody returned to town before the end except
those who stopped to regale afresh and recount the glorious perils of
the day.'

The picturesque village of Loughton, perched on high ground above the
valley of the Roding, about a {66} mile from Buckhurst Hill, was
originally a mere appanage of the manor of the same name that was given
by Harold to the Abbey of Waltham, and after the Reformation was
presented by Edward VI. to Sir Thomas Davey, only to revert to the
Crown in the reign of Mary, since which time it has changed hands again
and again.  Its ancient church is now a mere ruin, but it has been
supplemented by a fairly satisfactory modern building in the Norman
style.  The old manor-house, in which Queen Elizabeth and James I. were
guests at different times, was destroyed by fire in 1836, with the
exception of part of the great hall, now incorporated in a farm, and
the fine wrought-iron entrance gates.  In olden times the inhabitants
of Loughton enjoyed, in addition to the privileges common to all of
pasturing their cattle in the forest and turning out their pigs at
Michaelmas to eat beechwood and acorns, that of lopping the trees in
the vicinity of their village, and it was the interference of the lord
of the manor with the undue exercise of this right that inaugurated the
agitation which in the end had the happy result of securing to the
whole nation the priceless possession of Epping Forest.

[Sidenote: Chigwell Row]

Not far from Loughton is the scarcely less charming village of
Chigwell, the name of which calls up the memory of Charles Dickens, for
in it were laid many of the most exciting scenes of his immortal
romance, _Barnaby Rudge_.  It was, however, by the way in the King's
Head, a low, rambling, half-timbered building with a projecting upper
story, not in that now known as the Maypole, that John Willett and his
{67} cronies are described as meeting to gossip together and in which
the sturdy but obstinate landlord awaited the coming of the rioters.
The ancient hostelry seems to have altered but little since the great
novelist used to delight in going down to what ne called 'the greatest
place in the world, with such a delicious old inn opposite the
churchyard, such beautiful scenery,' etc., and it is much the same with
the church, with its noble Norman doorway approached by an avenue of
venerable trees.  The chief manor-house, known as Chigwell Hall, on the
site of one that belonged to Harold, is still standing, but a modern
grammar-school replaces that founded by Harsnett in 1629; and the home
of the Harewoods, in the garden of which Dolly Varden was, as related
by Dickens, robbed of her bracelet by Hugh of the Maypole, was long
represented by an ancient red-brick mansion that was burnt down a few
years ago.

Chigwell Row, that was long a beautiful secluded hamlet noted for its
spring of mineral water, from which the name of Chigwell is derived, is
now, alas, a mere suburb of uninteresting modern houses, and is chiefly
remembered as having been the home of the peasant who posed for
Gainsborough's famous picture of the 'Woodman.'  Close to it begins the
extensive parish of Woodford--named after the old ford over the Roding
that is now spanned by a bridge--in which are many villages rapidly
growing into towns, such as Woodford Green and Woodford Wells, given by
Earl Harold with seventeen other manors to Waltham Abbey.  That of
Woodford {68} remained in its possession until 1540, when it was
confiscated with the rest of ecclesiastical property by Henry VIII.,
but the old manor-house, now a convalescent home for children, founded
by Mrs. Gladstone, is still standing.

[Sidenote: Walthamstow]

The extensive parish of Walthamstow has shared the fate of that of
Woodford, for it is becoming a densely populated district with little
to recall the past.  Its name is supposed to signify a storehouse, but
whether of food, of weapons, or ammunition, there is no evidence to
show.  Its manor belonged, at the time of Edward the Confessor, to the
Saxon, Waltheof, son of the Earl of Northumberland, and though it was
confiscated by William the Conqueror, he later restored it to its
former owner in recognition of his early submission.  Moreover,
Waltheof was allowed to marry the king's niece, who, however, was the
cause of his ruin, for she betrayed to her uncle a plot in which her
husband was implicated.  Waltheof paid for his disloyalty with his
life, and his estate was bequeathed by his widow to the elder of their
two daughters, by whose marriage with Ralph de Toni it passed into the
possession of the family of that name, for which reason the manor is
still known as that of Walthamstow Toni, though it is now the property
of the descendants of Lord Maynard, by whom it was bought in the
seventeenth century.  The once scattered hamlets of Whip's Cross, so
called because it was the starting-point for the whipping of
deer-stealers, Woodford Side, Higham Hill, and many others now
practically form part of the town of Walthamstow, to which also belongs
a narrow {69} strip of land, called the Walthamstow Slip, running right
through the adjoining parish of Leyton, that was won under curious
circumstances not long ago.  It was in olden times the custom, if the
place in which a dead body was found could not meet the expenses of
burial, that the parish in which the interment took place should be
paid with as much land as those carrying the corpse could cover holding
each other's hands and walking one behind the other.  An unknown man
was found in the Lea, and his remains were taken to Walthamstow by way
of Leyton, with the result that the latter had to yield up a slice of
its territory to the former.

The mother church of Walthamstow, dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin,
dates from the sixteenth century, and contains some interesting
monuments, including one by Nicholas Stone to the memory of Elizabeth,
wife of Sir Thomas Merry, and their four children, and one to Sir
Gerard Conyers, Lord Mayor of London, who died in 1737.  The rest of
the places of worship are all modern, and have nothing distinctive
about them, but in addition to the chief manor-house Walthamstow owns
several fine mansions, including those of Higham Bensted and
Walthamstow Sarum or Salisbury Hall, the latter named after Margaret
Plantagenet, Countess of Salisbury.

The low-lying districts of Walthamstow parish, which before the Thames
embankment was made were constantly flooded, were some years ago turned
to good account by the East London Waterworks Company for the formation
of their fine reservoirs, {70} which resemble a vast lake dotted with
picturesque islets.  During the progress of the excavations, moreover,
many very important geological discoveries were made, with the aid of
which the whole life-story of the valley of the Lea can be read
backwards to the time when the forest of Essex was the home of the
elephant, the elk, the reindeer, and the wild ox, as well as of the red
and fallow deer of modern times.

[Sidenote: Wanstead]

Wanstead, the name of which may possibly be a corruption of the word
Woden's Stede, or the place sacred to Woden, near to which many traces
of Roman occupation have been found, was not very long ago a pretty
rambling village on the very outskirts of the forest, but is now
practically a town; and close to it is the somewhat dreary district
known as Wanstead Flats, once a beautiful furze-clad common with clumps
of fine old trees that has given place to brickfields and gravel-pits.
The manor of Wanstead has, however, an interesting history, for it was
once the property of the Abbey of Westminster, and owned a famous
manor-house known as Naked Hall Hawe, that was pulled down in the
sixteenth century by its then owner, Lord Chancellor Rich, who built in
its place a stately mansion, in which Queen Mary rested on her way from
Norwich to be crowned in London, and Queen Elizabeth was more than once
entertained by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who had bought the
estate in 1577.  Later it changed hands again and again, and in 1683,
as proved by an entry in John Evelyn's diary, it was owned by Sir
Joshua Child, to whom there is an interesting monument in the parish
church, whose {71} son replaced the Earl of Leicester's house with an
even more magnificent one, which he filled with art treasures, and that
was considered one of the finest private residences in England.  In
1794, through the death of the then owner and his only son within a few
months of each other, the valuable estate passed to Miss Tylney Long,
then a mere child, during whose long minority the mansion was let to
the Prince of Condé, and was for a time the house of Louis XVIII. and
other members of the French royal family.  Unfortunately Miss Long
married a profligate spendthrift, the Honourable W. Tylney-Long
Wellesley, who quickly dissipated his wife's wealth, necessitating the
sale of the Wanstead property.  The art treasures were dispersed, and
the mansion sold for building materials, but fortunately the gardens
and grounds were bought for the nation by the London corporation, and
thrown open to the public in 1882.



{72}

CHAPTER IV

  HAINAULT FOREST, WOOLWICH, AND OTHER
  EASTERN SUBURBS OF LONDON

[Sidenote: Hainault Forest]

The once beautiful district known as Hainault Forest, said to have been
named after the wife of Edward III., extending on the north to Theydon
Bois, on the west to Leytonstone, on the east to Havering-atte-Bower,
and on the south to Aldborough Hatch, belonged in early Norman times to
Barking Abbey, and passed, at the dissolution of the monasteries, to
the Crown.  It was almost as favourite a resort of the Tudors and
Stuarts as Epping Forest itself, and is nearly as full of interesting
historic associations, but for all that it was condemned in the middle
of the nineteenth century as unprofitable waste ground, and in 1851 an
Act of Parliament was passed empowering the Government to destroy or
remove the deer that had for so many centuries haunted its recesses, to
cut down the trees, and to sell the land for farming or building.  All
too rapidly the work of destruction proceeded, but fortunately, before
it was completed, it was finally arrested on the initiative of Mr.
North Buxton, whose efforts to save the little remnant left were {73}
seconded by the London County Council and various local corporations,
with the result that, in 1906, eight hundred acres were bought and
secured to the public as a recreation ground.  It was of course too
late to restore to the forest anything of its ancient charm, for its
dense groves of oak and beech were gone for ever, but some few
delightful woodlands still remained.  Many trees have been planted, and
even now certain outlying villages retain something of their original
rural character, especially Aldborough Hatch, the name of which
signifies an ancient mansion near a hatch or gate of the forest--that
has now, however, receded far from it--and Barking Side.  The latter,
once a secluded spot in a densely wooded neighbourhood, is celebrated
as having been near the scene of the famous Fairlop Fair, that was
founded in the eighteenth century by Daniel Day, a wealthy blockmaker
of Wapping, and for more than two centuries was frequented every year
by thousands of pleasure-seekers from the east end of London.  The fair
took its name from a wide-spreading oak about a mile from the still
standing Maypole Inn, beneath which Daniel Day used to entertain his
tenants at midsummer; but it was celebrated long before his time.  Many
allusions are made to it in the contemporary press, notably in the once
popular Fairlop Fair song, in which its nickname is explained in the
following quaint rhyme--

  'To Hainault Forest Queen Anne she did ride,
  And beheld the beautiful oak by her side;
  And after viewing it from the bottom to the top,
  She said to her court: "It is a Fair lop."'


{74}

Long after the death of Daniel Day, which took place in 1769, the
blockmakers of London used to hold an annual beanfeast beneath the
Fairlop oak, going to it, it is said, in a vehicle shaped like a boat,
drawn by six horses; and although the tree was blown down in 1820, and
its site is now enclosed in a private garden, many merrymakers still
resort to Barking Side to be present at a kind of parody of the ancient
fair.  The trunk of the oak was used to make the pulpit of Wanstead
Church and that of St. Pancras in Euston Road, and the fact that its
memory was still held dear long after its fall is proved by its name
having been given to the boat presented by the London Foresters to the
Lifeboat Society in 1865.

[Sidenote: Havering-atte-Bower]

Although, as from Hainault Forest itself, much of the glamour and
romance of the past has for ever departed from the once beautiful
country, between it and the Thames, that is now a mere suburb, and not
a very interesting suburb of London, some few of its hamlets and
villages still bear the impress of the long ago, and are intimately
associated with important episodes of English history.  Near to the
still independent market town of Romford, for instance, is the village
of Havering-atte-Bower, that gives its name to the ancient Liberty,
including the extensive parishes of Romford, Havering, and Hornchurch,
and is built on the site of a royal palace, once the favourite resort
of Edward the Confessor, and of many of his successors.  The name of
Havering has been very variously explained, the most poetic and also
the most probable interpretation {75} being that it commemorates a
beautiful legend relating to the saintly founder of Westminster Abbey
to the effect that he gave to St. John the Evangelist, who had appeared
to him in the guise of a pilgrim, a ring from his own finger.  Many
years afterwards, when King Edward was at the consecration of a church
in Essex, two pilgrims from the Holy Land came to him to tell him that
the beloved disciple had met them in Jerusalem, and charged them with a
message for him.  The king at once inquired 'Have ye the ring?'--a
sentence that was later converted into Havering--to which the pilgrims
replied by producing it.  The message was to the effect that St. John
would meet the original owner of the ring in Paradise a fortnight
later, a prophecy that was fulfilled, for King Edward passed away at
that time.  Some say the church in which the singular meeting took
place was at Waltham, others that it was a chapel on the site of the
present church of Romford, dedicated to St. Edward the Confessor and
St. Mary the Virgin, whilst yet others think it was that which stood
where now rises the modern church of St. John the Evangelist at
Havering, which contains a font used in the Saxon building that
preceded it.

The manor of Havering has remained Crown property to the present day,
though the park in which the Confessor's house stood has been cut up
and let on leases.  The so-called royal palace, that was probably
merely a hunting lodge, was replaced after the Conquest by a more
convenient residence, called the Bower, to which the English kings were
{76} fond of resorting.  There Edward III., a disappointed and
disillusioned man, spent several months of the last year of his life,
after he had named the unworthy son of the beloved Black Prince his
successor, and there Edward IV., a year before his death, won great
popularity with the citizens of London by the hospitality he showed to
the 'maire and aldermen,' as related in Hall's _Chronicle_, who
observes, 'No one thyng in many daies gatte him either more hartes or
more hertie favour amongst the comon people.'  Edward VI. was often at
the Bower before he came to the throne; Queen Elizabeth, to whom the
people of Havering were devoted, for she secured to them many of their
ancient privileges, was as fond of it as of any of her palaces at
Enfield, and her successor James I., never failed to visit it once a
year.  After his time, however, it, for some unexplained reason fell
into disrepute, and was allowed to become a complete ruin.  By the
middle of the nineteenth century not a trace of it remained, and it is
now represented by a new Bower House, a short distance from its site,
built in 1729 for a private lease-holder.

Not far from the old hunting lodge there was another royal residence,
known as Prygo, which was for a long time reserved for the use of
widowed queens, but was given by Elizabeth to Sir John Grey, a relation
of the ill-fated nine days' queen.  After changing hands again and
again, the historic relic, which might well have been bought for the
nation, was sold for building material and pulled down, with the
exception of one wing, which was {77} later incorporated in a house
built in 1852, that retains the quaint old name.

[Sidenote: Leyton]

The twin towns of Leyton and Leytonstone, the latter not long ago a
mere hamlet of the former, are both named after the Lea, and were, half
a century ago, charming villages, near to which were many fine old
mansions, the homes of wealthy City merchants, who have since deserted
them for the more fashionable western suburbs.  Some few of these
houses, notably those known as Etloe and Rockholt, though turned to
other uses, still remain, and near to the latter have been found traces
of ancient entrenchments, that have led some authorities to identify
the site of Leyton with that of the Roman Durolitum.  The churches of
both towns are modern, but that of St. Mary at Leyton, in which is
buried the celebrated antiquarian John Strype, who was vicar of the
parish for sixty-eight years, retains the tower of an earlier building,
and contains some interesting seventeenth and eighteenth century
monuments, including two to members of the Hickes family, which were
recently removed from the chancel and set up at the west end.  There
are also several noteworthy brasses on the walls with quaint
inscriptions, such as that relating to Lady Mary Kingstone, who died in
1577, and a tablet to the memory of the famous printer William Bowyer,
who passed away in 1777; and in the churchyard rest many celebrities,
of whom the best known outside Leyton are the dramatist David Lewis,
and the Master of the Rolls, Sir John Strange, who died, the former in
1700, the latter in 1754.

{78}

Stratford on the Lea, named after the ancient ford that was in use
between it and Bow, the Stratford-atte-Bow of Chaucer, till the river
was spanned by the bridge built by Matilda, wife of Henry I., that was
taken down as recently as 1839, was originally only an outlying hamlet
of West Ham, but it has of late years grown into a densely populated
manufacturing centre, well provided with modern places of worship, but
retaining, alas, not a trace of the beautiful Cistercian abbey, founded
in the twelfth century, that was once the pride of the whole
neighbourhood.  It is very much the same with Great Ilford, named after
a ford over the Roding, which, though not yet so large as Stratford, is
already a thriving town, almost its only relic of the past being the
hospital, that now belongs, with the estate on which it is built, to
the Marquis of Salisbury, originally founded for the use of thirteen
lepers who had been in the service of King Stephen, by Adliza, Abbess
of Barking, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary and St. Thomas of
Canterbury.  Little Ilford, on the other hand, on the south-west side
of its greater namesake, is still not much more than a village, though
from it, too, nearly everything of antiquarian interest has been
improved away.  The beautiful old church was pulled down some fifty
years ago, but, fortunately, in its modern successor are preserved a
few of the ancient monuments, amongst which is especially noteworthy
that to William Waldegrave and his wife, who died, the latter in 1595,
the former in 1616.

A century ago West Ham was one of the most {79} picturesque villages of
Essex, with many charming old mansions belonging to the wealthy City
merchants in its immediate vicinity, but it is now a densely populated
town, with scarcely anything about it to recall the olden times.  The
much modernised church of All Saints, however, retains its original
foundations, a Norman clerestory and an early English nave, with which,
unfortunately, the modern brick chancel and aisles are quite out of
character.  Some of the ancient monuments have also been preserved,
notably the fifteenth-century tomb of a certain Robert Rook, that of
Sir Thomas Foot, who was Lord Mayor of London in 1650, and that of
William Fawcett, who died in 1631.

[Sidenote: Upton]

Not far from West Ham is the village of Upton, and near to it are some
fine old houses, including that known as The Cedars, once the home of
the famous Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, the enthusiastic advocate of prison
reform, who was the sister of Mr. Samuel Gurney, a true, kindred
spirit, almost as well known for his disinterested work for the poor
and oppressed.  The latter lived in what was known as Ham House, which
was pulled down soon after his death in 1856, and eighteen years later
the park in which it used to stand was bought for the people, partly by
the Gurney family and partly by the corporation of London.

East Ham is another town of rapid growth, the nucleus of which was not
long ago a charming village, still in close touch with the long ago.
In early Norman times it was a dependency of Westminster {80} Abbey,
and the much modernised parish church, dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene,
retains portions of the ancient building that dated from about the
eleventh century, whilst the old manor-house, now a farm, is still
standing.  There remains, however, a certain rural charm about the
dependent hamlets of Flasket and Green Street, the former retaining an
ancient mansion, in which Elizabeth Fry lived for many years before her
removal to The Cedars, and the latter still priding itself on its
ancient manor-house, now an agricultural training home for boys, that
was once the seat of the noble Nevill family, to whom there is a good
monument in the church.  The home bears the inappropriate name of Anne
Boleyn's Castle, because of a tradition, for which there is no
historical information, that the ill-fated second wife of Henry VIII.
was wooed in it, and, by a strange irony of fate, shut up in it later,
to await the day of her execution, after her condemnation to death.

[Sidenote: Barking Abbey]

Greater even than the transformation which has taken place in Stratford
and the Hams is that which has converted Barking from a straggling
fishing village, dependent on the famous Benedictine abbey, after which
it is named, that was founded in the ninth century by St. Erkenwald,
into a thriving market town, that is still rapidly widening its
boundaries.  The abbey itself, that was burnt by the Danes in 870, and
rebuilt a century later by King Edgar, is gone, but for all that
something of the old romance and sanctity still seems to cling to the
district it dominated, that was for centuries looked upon by the
faithful as one of the most sacred in {81} England.  The first abbess
was the saintly St. Ethelburga, sister of the founder, and she and St.
Erkenwald were both buried in the abbey church.  After the rebuilding
of the abbey under Edgar, until the dissolution of the monasteries, its
history was intimately bound up with that of the whole country, the
holy women who successively held the office of abbess, many of them of
royal birth, taking a very active share in politics, and unlike their
successors in modern nunneries, exercising jurisdiction over men as
well as women.  Barking Abbey became celebrated throughout the length
and breadth of the land for the miracles wrought in it, and also as a
place of education for the daughters of aristocratic parents.  The
Abbess of Barking was one of the four ladies of England who were
baronesses in their own right, a privilege that included, strange to
say, the right to a seat in the Witenagemot, or Great Council, the
predecessor of the Parliament the doors of which have ever been so
jealously closed against women.  The prosperity of the great abbey of
Barking seems to have begun to decline about the middle of the
fourteenth century through the flooding of some lands belonging to it,
but it was still a very valuable property when it was confiscated by
Henry VIII., who, with unusual generosity, gave to the then abbess an
annuity of two hundred marks for the rest of her life.

The only remaining relics of the once beautiful and extensive abbey
buildings are a few bits of the old walls and a massive gateway--that
from which, according to local tradition, William the Conqueror {82}
set forth on his first royal progress through his newly acquired
kingdom--which is known as 'The Five-bell Gate,' the curfew bell having
been rung from the campanile above it, which used to bear the beautiful
name of the Chapel of the Holy Rood, there having been a bas-relief of
the Crucifixion on its walls.

The parish church of Barking, dedicated to St. Margaret--the churchyard
of which is entered from the Five-bell Gate--retains parts of the
original Norman building and of the early English additions to it, and
contains several interesting old brasses; but, unfortunately, what was
some years ago a very characteristic example of the transition between
the two styles has been almost completely spoiled by so-called
restoration, the massive piers having been whitewashed and the
beautiful timber roof covered in with an over-ornamented plaster
ceiling.

The town of Barking is rather picturesquely situated on the left bank
of the Roding, about a mile above the creek named after it.  It
contains, however, very little of interest except the ancient
market-hall, said to have been built by Elizabeth, and is practically
an integral part of London over the Border, with long monotonous
streets of small houses.  Of the many mansions once occupied by wealthy
merchants, the sixteenth-century Eastbury House, recently restored by
its owner, is an isolated example, and is locally known as the
'Gunpowder House,' because of an unfounded tradition that the
conspirators in the Guy Fawkes plot watched from it for the blowing-up
of the Houses of Parliament, {83} or, according to another version of
the same legend, Lord Mounteagle there received the letter which
enabled him to frustrate the iniquitous scheme.

[Sidenote: Dagenham]

The rapidly growing village of Dagenham, that will doubtless soon
become a town, set in the midst of market-gardens in the low-lying
districts east of Barking, retains far more than the latter the rural
appearance it presented when it was part of the extensive abbey
demesne.  The ancient church, in spite of much necessary rebuilding,
retains a fine piscina that was long bricked up, and other ancient
relics, including an altar-slab bearing the marks symbolical of the
Redeemer's wounds, and the tomb of Sir Thomas Ursuyk, who died in 1470,
on which are effigies of himself, his wife, and their thirteen children.

Subject as it has been from the earliest historic times to inundation
from the Thames, Dagenham has been from the first intimately associated
with engineering enterprise.  Discoveries were made in the early
eighteenth century of what was at first taken for a submerged forest,
but on examination proved to be relics of wooden embankments that were
probably existing in pre-Roman times.  In 1376 the breaking down of the
banks of the Thames at Dagenham flooded the village and the whole
neighbourhood, involving so heavy a loss to the Abbey of Barking that
the then abbess had to appeal to King Edward I. for exemption from a
payment due to him.  How the mischief then done was repaired there is
no evidence to show, but there are many allusions in contemporary
records to later {84} occurrences of a similar kind, all of which,
however, sink into insignificance before the great calamity of December
17, 1707, when in a violent storm a breach four hundred feet wide was
made in the Thames embankment, and one thousand acres were submerged.
Many attempts were made to stop the gap, but it was not until 1715 that
anything like success was achieved.  At that date Captain Perry
undertook the arduous task, and five years later he had reclaimed all
but a comparatively small portion of the lost lands, the so-called
Dagenham Breach or Dagenham Lake, a picturesque sheet of water much
resorted to by anglers, being all that is now left to keep alive the
memory of the famous disaster.  About 1884 a company was formed to
transform this lake into a dock, but fortunately, perhaps, for those
who prefer beauty to utility, the enterprise failed for want of funds.
Meanwhile Dagenham Breach had become associated with an institution
still dear to the hearts of politicians--the annual ministerial
whitebait dinner--for it was in a cottage on its banks belonging to Sir
John Preston, M.P. for Dover, and president of the committee for
inspecting the embankment at Dagenham, that that dinner was first
eaten.  In its inception a mere gathering of friends who met to enjoy
the country air and to eat freshly caught whitebait in each other's
company, the meeting gradually grew in importance as time went on,
William Pitt having been often one of the guests.  Later, the distance
from town was found too great for ministers and city magnates, so it
was transferred to Greenwich, where, since the death {85} of Sir John
Preston, the old Dagenham traditions have been religiously maintained.

[Sidenote: Barking Creek]

The low-lying, marshy districts near Barking Creek, where the Roding
flows into the Thames, and those between Dagenham and Woolwich, have
unfortunately lost nearly all the country charm which distinguished
them at the time of Sir John Preston, but the beautiful water highway
intersecting them, that is associated with so many thrilling memories,
and has been the scene of so many notable historic pageants, will ever
lend to them a strong element of the picturesque.  Constant changes in
the tides, with never-ending variations in the traffic, dainty
pleasure-craft, heavily laden barges, crowded steamers, and busy tugs
succeeding each other in an unbroken procession, or momentarily forming
picturesque groups to which the rarely absent mist and fog give an
effective touch of mystery, render every reach of the Lower Thames full
of inspiration to the artist.  Even at Woolwich itself, one half of
which is on the north and the other on the south of the river, there is
still much that is attractive, in spite of the fact that the town is
nearly everywhere divided from the water by the long lines of the
dockyard and arsenal, and that strength and utility rather than beauty
of structure are the distinguishing characteristics of those two
centres of activity.

[Sidenote: Woolwich]

Originally a small fishing-village, the site of which is supposed to
have been once occupied by a Roman camp, Woolwich, now one of the most
important eastern suburbs of London, owes its prosperity {86} chiefly
to its having been chosen by Henry VIII. as his chief naval station.
In its dockyard was built the famous ship called the _Henrye Grace à
Dieu_, as proved by entries in an account-book, now in the Record
Office, of the payments made to 'shippe-wrights and other officers
working upon the Kinges great shippe at Wolwiche' from 1512 to 1515,
when it was launched in the presence of Henry and Katharine of Aragon,
who with their court and many invited guests dined on board at the
royal expense.  The career of the great _Henrye Grace à Dieu_ was
short, for it was destroyed by fire at Woolwich in 1553; but many other
famous ships were built in the same dockyard, including some of those
that went forth to meet the Spanish Armada, others that took part in
the voyages of exploration of Hawkins and Frobisher, and the _Royal
Sovereign_, nicknamed the 'Golden Devil' by the Dutch on account of its
terrible powers, that was built in the reign of Charles I.  In his
famous _Diary_ the gossipy Secretary of the Admiralty, Mr. Pepys, often
alludes to Woolwich, which he constantly visited to inspect the
dockyard, the ships, and the stores, making the journey from Greenwich
sometimes by boat, sometimes on foot.  He describes how he looked into
the details of every department, examining the charges made for work
done, and he strikes a melancholy and prophetic note when he says: 'I
see it is impossible for the King to have things done so cheap as other
men.'  A somewhat later entry in the same journal calls up a picture of
a very different kind of place to the crowded, busy, and somewhat
squalid {87} town of to-day, for on May 28, 1669, the writer says: 'My
wife away down with Jane ... to Woolwich in order to [get] a little
ayre, and to lie there to-night and so to gather May dew in the morning
... to wash her face with.'  To quote Pepys again, he laments at the
time of the scare about the Dutch, the sinking of so many good ships in
the Thames off Woolwich, shrewdly remarking that these ships 'would
have been good works to command the river below' had the enemy
attempted to pass them, and adding, 'it is a sad sight while we would
be thought masters of the sea.'

[Illustration: THE THAMES AT WOOLWICH]

The gallant Prince Rupert was for some time in command at Woolwich, and
greatly strengthened its defences, adding to them a battery of sixty
guns.  According to tradition, he lived in the house near the arsenal,
now converted into a museum close to which was a lofty observatory
named after him, comanding a fine view, which was unfortunately taken
down in 1786.  Throughout the whole of the eighteenth and part of the
nineteenth century, when wars and rumours of wars kept up a constant
demand for new battleships, additions continued to be made to the great
dockyard of Woolwich, which reached the zenith of its prosperity under
the gifted engineers, Sir John Rennie and his son, who created a large
reservoir, built a strong river wall, and proved themselves equal to
meeting every emergency that arose.  The dockyard soon became as
celebrated for the iron vessels launched from it as for their wooden
predecessors, but ere long even it failed to be able to produce the
huge iron-clad {88} men-of-war required for modern scientific warfare.
On September 17, 1869, the fiat went forth that Woolwich dockyard
should be closed, and soon after part of it was sold, whilst the
remainder was converted into a Government storehouse for munitions of
war.

The fame of the ancient dockyard was soon to be equalled, if not
surpassed, by that of the Royal Arsenal that occupies the site of what
was long known as the Warren, which was closely associated with the
memory of the convicts who used to work in it and in the dockyard,
living in the ancient vessels called the hulks that were moored in the
river.  The present arsenal is the successor of a very much more
ancient military depot, for even if there be no real foundation for the
popular tradition that Queen Elizabeth founded the latter, there are
many references to it in early ordnance accounts, notably in one
bearing date July 9, 1664, in which, in an estimate for repairs, occurs
the item: 'for floaring a storehouse att Woolwich to keepe shipp
carriages dry.'  Sixteen years later an order was issued from the
Admiralty that 'all ye sheds at Woolwich along ye proofe house, and ye
shedds for carriages there, be forthwith repaired,' supplemented in
1682 by directions for building 'a new shedd at Woolwich, with all
convenient speed, with artificers at ye reasonablest rates,' and in
1688 by instructions for the removal of all guns, carriages, and
stores, then at Deptford, to Woolwich.

Founded in the closing years of the eighteenth century, the modern
Arsenal of Woolwich is one of the most extensive and interesting
institutions of the {89} kind in the world.  Exclusive of the outlying
powder magazines in the marshes, the present buildings cover
considerably more than three hundred acres, the ordinary staff of
workpeople numbers some ten thousand, that is increased to forty
thousand or fifty thousand in time of war.  In the various departments
the whole science of modern war material may be studied, whilst in the
Royal Artillery Museum the history of the past is illustrated by a
remarkably complete collection of weapons and models.  On the wharf and
pier in connection with the Arsenal the landing and embarkation of
troops and the shipping of stores are constantly going on, troops are
daily exercised and reviews are often held on the common outside the
town, so that there is always something interesting to be seen at
Woolwich, which in addition to its fine Dockyard and Arsenal, owns the
Royal Military Academy that was founded by George II. in 1741, and is
associated with the memory of many great soldiers.

Outside Woolwich is the lofty Shooters Hill, commanding a fine view of
the Thames valley and London, that was in olden times a noted haunt of
highwaymen, a fact to which it is supposed to owe its name.  It is
often alluded to by old chroniclers, notably by Phillpott, who declares
that it was so called for the 'thievery there practised where
travellers in elder times were so much infested with depredations and
bloody mischief, that order was taken in the 6th year of Richard II.
for the enlarging the highway'; but the evil was not remedied, for as
late as 1682 Oldham wrote that 'Padders came {90} from Shooters Hill in
flocks.'  In Hall's _Chronicle_ there is a noteworthy description of a
meeting on Shooters Hill between Henry VIII. and his queen and Robin
Hood, which deserves quotation at length: 'And as they passed by the
way,' he says, 'they espied a company of tall yeomen, clothed all in
grene with grene whodes and bowes and arrowes to the number of ii C.
Then one of them, which called himselfe Robyn Hood, came to the kyng
desyring him to se his men shoote, and the kyng was content.  Then he
whistled, and al the ii C archers shot and losed at once, and then he
whisteled agayne and they likewise shot agayne, their arrows whisteled
by crafte of the head so that the noyes was strange and great and much
pleased the kynge and quene and all the company.'  So delighted,
indeed, was Henry with the prowess displayed, that when the bold Robin
'desyred them to come into the grene wood and see how the outlaws
lyve,' they readily consented.  'Then,' adds the chronicler, 'the
hornes blew till they came to the wood under Shoters Hil, and there was
an arbor made of boughs, with a hal and a great chamber very well made
and covered with floures and swete herbes, which the kyng much
praysed.'  Encouraged by this success, the outlaw chief made a yet
bolder venture, for though he must have known that he was risking the
lives of all his merry men as well as his own, he said to the king,
'Outlawes brekefastes is venyson, and therefore you must be content
with such fare as we use.'  Even this bold confession of guilt,
however, did not rouse the ire of the usually hasty monarch; he and his
queen, says Hall, 'sate {91} doune and were served with venyson and
wyne by Robin Hood and his men to their contentacion.'

Writing more than a century after this notable meeting so typical of
the time at which it occurred, the ubiquitous Pepys, who seems to have
been here, there, and everywhere, tells how in a journey from Stratford
to London he and his wife's maid rode under a dead body hanging on
Shooters Hill, and that the reputation of the famous height was not
much improved in Byron's time is proved by the fact that the poet makes
his Don Juan shoot a man on it who had accosted him with the trite
demand, 'your money or your life.'  Now, however, all is changed: no
longer is the Bull Inn--where, according to local tradition, Dick
Turpin nearly roasted the landlady on her own kitchen fire, to make her
confess where she kept her savings--the stopping-place of coaches; the
ancient woods are replaced by the Military Hospital, the largest in
Great Britain, named after Lord Herbert of Lea, who was Secretary of
State for War when it was erected; trim villas and a modern church,
that is already too small for its congregation.  The one remaining
relic of days gone by is the ugly Severndoorg Castle, a massive
three-storied tower on the top of the hill, built by the wife of Sir
William Jones, to commemorate his taking of the stronghold, after which
it is named, on the coast of Malabar.

[Sidenote: Plumstead]

Less than a century ago, Plumstead, which with Burrage Town now forms
the eastern suburb of Woolwich, was a mere isolated hamlet of the
marshes, a dependency of the manor given in 960 {92} by King Edgar to
the abbot of St. Augustine's, Canterbury, which after changing hands
many times became the property of Queen's College, Oxford.  The ancient
manor-house, now a farm, still stands near the parish church--which is
dedicated to St. Nicolas, the patron saint of fishermen--that, though
greatly modernised, retains some few traces of the original building.
Of the seat of the noble De Burghesh family, who once owned the site of
Burrage Town, nothing now remains, though its memory is preserved in
the name of Burrage Place, a row of uninteresting modern houses.

Between Plumstead and Erith is a low-lying district, now being rapidly
built over, that is still known by the poetic name of Abbey Wood, in
memory of the beautiful Lesnes Abbey to which it once belonged, of
which a few traces are still preserved, including a doorway and some
portions of the garden walls.  Founded in 1178 by Richard de Lacy for a
branch of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine, the abbey remained in
their possession till it was confiscated by Henry VIII., and its site
is now the property of Christ's Hospital.  Where the fine old Abbey
Grange once stood, is the so-called Abbey Farm that was built on the
old foundations, and not very long ago was surrounded by beautiful
woods.  It was due to the untiring energy of the monks of Lesnes Abbey,
aided by their neighbours, the owners of Plumstead manor, that the
marshes which are now such a valuable property were first drained, but
their work was again and again undone by the breaking down of their
embankments {93} and the rushing in of the river.  In 1527 two such
breaches were made at Plumstead and Erith, and for more than thirty
years the abbey lands near the Thames were one unbroken lake, all
efforts to draw off the floods having been unavailing.  In 1563,
however, an Italian named Giacomo Aconzio, a refugee from religious
persecution under the protection of Queen Elizabeth, offered to reclaim
the submerged district, and an Act of Parliament was passed empowering
him 'at his own cost and charges, during the term of four years, to
inne, fence and win the said grounds or any parcel of them,' as a
reward for which service he was to receive a moiety of the ground thus
secured.  Six hundred acres only were drained before the death of
Aconzio, but the work begun by him was vigorously carried on after he
had passed away, and at the beginning of the seventeenth century not
more than five hundred acres remained under water.  These, too, were
eventually restored to cultivation, and since then no serious flood has
occurred, though but for the prompt action of the engineers of the
Woolwich Arsenal, when through an explosion of gunpowder at Crossness a
breach one hundred yards wide was made in the river wall at Erith, the
whole of the reclaimed lands would have been once more submerged.

[Sidenote: Crossness Point]

Though all that are now left of the beautiful Abbey Woods are enclosed,
glimpses of them can still be obtained here and there, and there are
many beautiful walks in the neighbourhood, notably one to Lesnes and
Burstall Heaths, the latter of which has recently been secured for the
people, and one to the {94} village of West Wickham, that owns a
thirteenth-century church containing the remains of mural frescoes of
scenes from the life of Christ.  Crossness Point too, where is situated
one of the outfalls of the metropolitan drainage works, is within easy
reach of Woolwich and Erith, and is really quite a picturesque
settlement, the engine-houses, master's villa, workmen's cottages and
school, being grouped about a well-proportioned central chimney.

[Sidenote: Erith]

Finely situated on rising ground a little further down the river than
Woolwich, and commanding a fine view up and down stream, the densely
populated town of Erith, the name of which is supposed to mean the
ancient haven, was long an important naval and commercial port, and is
still a much frequented yachting station.  Considerable doubt exists as
to the identity of the first lord of the manor, but the estate was one
of those seized by William the Conqueror, who gave it to his
half-brother, Bishop Odo of Bayeux.  Several centuries later it was
granted by Henry VIII. to Elizabeth, Countess of Salisbury, and it now
belongs to the Wheatley family, one of whom replaced the old
manor-house by a modern mansion.  The ancient parish church that rises
up from the borders of the marsh a little distance from the town,
though it has been a good deal spoiled by restoration, is probably in
its main structure much what it was when the famous meeting took place
in it between the discontented barons and the commissioners of King
John, at which, it is said, the terms of Magna Charta were first
discussed.  Some portions of the original timber roof remain, above the
chancel arch there is a quaint {95} figure of Christ with arms
outstretched, and in the southern aisle is a hagioscope or squint, from
which the altar can be seen.  Some of the monuments, too, are
interesting, notably that to the Countess of Salisbury, who was once
the lady of the manor, and there are several good brasses, including
two dating from the fifteenth century, one commemorating Roger
Sinclair, the other John Aylmer and his wife.

The older portions of the town of Erith, with the background of hills
stretching away to the Abbey Woods, retain a certain rural character,
and at the annual fair held on Whit-Monday it resumes for a time
something of its ancient appearance when it was the seat of a
corporation and had its own weekly market.  Another strong element of
interest of a different kind is the fact that in its neighbourhood the
whole life-story of the valley of the Thames can be read backwards, the
excavations made for various purposes having laid bare the strata and
revealed the remains of many animals, such as the elephant and the
great cave tiger, that were extinct in Great Britain long before the
historic era.  Moreover, the draining of the marshes has brought to
light the remains of what was at first supposed to be a submerged
forest, but is proved to be the relics of early historic or prehistoric
embankments, trunks and roots of a great variety of trees bearing
unmistakable traces of human manipulation having been found in a bed of
peat below the alluvial clay.

Within easy reach of Erith is the riverside village of Belvedere,
destined probably soon to become a town, that takes its name from a
mansion on high ground that was built in 1764 by Sir Samuel Gideon,
{96} later Lord Eardley, but was converted, in 1869, into a home for
aged seamen, and is now a noted school for boys.

[Sidenote: North Cray]

Further away from the Thames, though still to a certain extent in touch
with it, is the romantic district collectively known as the Crays,
watered by the river from which it takes its name, and in which are
situated the town of Crayford and the villages of North Cray, Foot's
Cray, Bexley, St. Paul's Cray, Mary Cray, and Orpington.  The site of
the first, the Crecgenford of the Saxon chronicle, was the scene, in
457, of a battle in which Hengist and his son Æsc fought against the
Britons, slaying four thousand men, and here and there in the
neighbourhood are many artificial caves with vaulted roofs, locally
known as Dane holes, and popularly supposed to have been used as
hiding-places for treasure in times of war, but which are possibly
really parts of the great system of underground galleries and chambers
that was recently opened at Chislehurst.

At the time of the Doomsday Survey, Crayford manor was the property of
the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the sub-manors of Newbury and Marshal
Court were bought, in 1694, by Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovel, whose
descendants sold the mansion belonging to them to the owner of a linen
factory, who quickly converted it into a workshop, thus inaugurating
the transformation of a mere hamlet into a thriving manufacturing
centre, for it now owns many factories and mills employing a large
number of work-people.

The church of Crayford, dedicated to the Apostle {97} of the North, St.
Paulinus, who did much good work in the Thames valley before he became
Bishop of York, is a noteworthy structure, in the perpendicular style,
with a fine timber roof that probably belonged to an earlier building.
It is of somewhat unusual construction, having no nave but two very
broad aisles connected by the chancel arch, and it contains some
interesting monuments, including one to William Draper and his wife,
who died, the former in 1650, the latter in 1652, and one to Dame
Elizabeth Shovel, who passed away in 1752.

North Cray, about two miles from Crayford, is still a charming
scattered hamlet, and from it a pathway leads across fields to Foot's
Cray, the latter said to be named after Godwin Fot, who owned the manor
at the time of Edward the Confessor.  It passed, after changing hands
several times, to the Walsingham family, and in its manor-house was
born Sir Francis Walsingham, the Puritan statesman who was so bitter an
enemy of the unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots.  Foot's Cray owns a very
interesting old church--unfortunately a good deal spoiled by unskilful
restoration--with traces of Saxon and Norman work, and a little to the
north of it is a fine eighteenth-century mansion belonging to the
Vansittart family.  Still more noteworthy is the relic of the once
beautiful Ruxley church, now used as a barn, that is about
three-quarters of a mile from Foot's Cray and deserves careful
examination, the sedilia and piscina, with part of the original chalk
walls faced with flint, having been preserved when the rest of the
materials were sold for building.

{98}

Built on the river Cray, that is bridged over in its principal street,
Bexley has recently grown almost into a town, but it is still a pretty
place and owns an interesting old church--with a lofty tower surmounted
by an octagonal spire--that is supposed to occupy the site of a Saxon
chapel founded in the ninth century by Wilfrid, Archbishop of
Canterbury.  A beautiful Norman arch above the Early English southern
doorway is probably a relic of a second building that preceded the
present one.  The latter, that dates from the twelfth or thirteenth
century, was well restored some thirty years ago, when portions of a
fine old rood screen were skilfully dovetailed into a modern one, the
ancient oak stalls were replaced in the chancel, and several brasses
that had long been buried were set up in their former positions,
including one to the memory of the At Hall family--who owned the
eighteenth-century Hall Place on the road from Bexley to Crayford--that
bears the symbol of the horn, proving that they held their manor on
what was known as a hornage tenure, a horn having been the token of a
forester's office.

St. Paul's Cray, named after the much loved St. Paulinus, who was sent
to England by St. Gregory in response to an appeal from St. Augustine
for labourers to aid him in reaping the great harvest of souls in Kent,
is situated in a beautiful valley, and its manor, now the property of
the Sydney family, was one of those given by William the Conqueror to
Bishop Odo of Bayeux.  Its Early English church contains relics of a
Norman building that formerly occupied its site, and it ranks with that
of St. Mary {99} Cray and the remains of that of Ruxley amongst the
most interesting ecclesiastical survivals in the eastern counties of
England.  The church of St. Paul's Cray, which presents in its
dignified beauty a marked contrast to the commonplace buildings of the
modern mills that now make up the greater part of the village, is a
noble cruciform structure with a grand nave upheld by massive pillars,
a well-preserved piscina and other characteristic features.  It should
be studied with the somewhat earlier church of All Saints in the
neighbouring village of Orpington, in which the transition from the
Norman to the Gothic style can be very distinctly traced.  The western
doorway in the entrance porch, of which there is an ancient holy-water
stoup, is one of the most beautiful examples of Norman work in England,
and the piscina and sedilia in the chancel are also very fine.

[Sidenote: Orpington]

Orpington, the name of which is supposed to signify rising springs, is
a typical Kentish village in the heart of the hop country, and is
closely associated with the memory of John Ruskin, many of whose famous
books were produced at his private printing-press there.  It owns, in
addition to its beautiful church, a number of fine old houses,
including the fifteenth-century Priory now in private possession, with
massive walls and good Tudor windows, and the mansion known as Bark
Hart, in which the first owner and builder, Perceval Hart, entertained
Queen Elizabeth, which probably occupies the site of the old
manor-house.



{100}

CHAPTER V

  GREENWICH AND OTHER SOUTH-EASTERN SUBURBS
  OF LONDON

[Sidenote: Greenwich]

Occupying as it does a unique position on the Thames, which is here
often crowded with British and foreign shipping, owning in the group of
buildings collectively known as the Hospital one of the masterpieces of
eighteenth-century domestic architecture, and in its park one of the
most beautiful open spaces near the capital, whilst its Observatory
gives to it the distinction of a leader in astronomical research,
Greenwich has long ranked as one of the most important and popular
suburbs of London.  It is mentioned as Grénawic in the _Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle_, and its history, which is intimately bound up with that of
England, can be traced back to the time of Alfred the Great, when it
was a mere scattered hamlet, the home of a few poor fishermen.  In the
days of the protracted struggle with the invading Northmen, their fleet
often lay at anchor for months together near Greenwich, within easy
reach of their camp on the high ground at the edge of Blackheath, now
known as East and West Coombe, that until quite recently retained
traces of {101} their defensive earthworks.  It was near Greenwich that
the noble St. Alphege, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had been taken
prisoner at the siege of that town in 1001, was massacred by the Danes
on April 1, 1002, in revenge for his persistent refusal to buy his life
at the expense of his friends, and it is supposed to have been on the
actual scene of his martyrdom that the parish church was built many
centuries afterwards.

[Illustration: GREENWICH HOSPITAL WITH ST. ALPHEGE'S CHURCH]

The manor of Greenwich, with that of Lewisham, to which it originally
belonged, was given by Ethelruda, a niece of King Alfred, to the monks
of the Abbey of St. Peter at Ghent, who held it till it was seized by
the Crown after the disgrace of Bishop Odo of Bayeux.  When in 1414 the
alien religious houses were suppressed, it was granted by Henry V. to
the newly founded Abbey of Sheen, but later it again reverted to the
Crown.  There seems to have been a royal residence and chapel at
Greenwich as early as the thirteenth century, for it is related that on
a certain occasion King Edward I. made an offering of seven shillings
and his son, the future Edward II., one of three shillings and
sixpence, at each of the holy crosses in the chapel dedicated to the
Blessed Virgin at Greenwich, though exactly where that chapel was
situated there is no evidence to show.  Later, Henry IV. made his will,
dated 1408, at his manor-house of Greenwich, and his son Henry V.
bestowed the estate on Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, for his life.
On his death in 1417 it was given to Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, uncle
of the king, and some few years {102} afterwards two hundred acres of
land were added to the property, whilst permission was granted to its
owner to build on to the manor-house, a concession confirmed and
increased in 1437.  The duke, aided by his wife Eleanor, quickly
converted the ancient residence into a palace, to which he gave the
name of the Pleasaunce, or Placentia, that occupied the site of the
western wing of the present hospital--the crypt of its chapel being
still preserved beneath the portion now used as a museum--and he began
to build the tower that now forms part of the famous Observatory.  In
1447, however, Duke Humphrey's work was suddenly cut short by his
death, and the greatly improved property reverted to the Crown, to
which it has ever since belonged.  The park was added to and stocked
with deer by Edward IV., and Henry VII. greatly improved the palace,
building a brick front on the riverside.  He also completed the tower
begun by Duke Humphrey, and built a convent close to the palace for the
Grey Friars, to whom Edward IV. had already, in 1480, given a chantry
and a little chapel dedicated to the Holy Cross, that probably formed
the nucleus of the new monastery.  Henry VIII. was born at Placentia,
and to the end of his life he had a very great affection for it,
sparing no expense to beautify it.  In its chapel he was married to his
first wife, Katharine of Aragon; in its hall he presided over many
stately banquets, and took part in its park in many a brilliant
tournament.  He and his court generally spent Christmas at Greenwich,
and it was there, in 1511, that the first masked ball took place in
England.  {103} The Princess Mary was born at Greenwich in 1516, and a
year later her aunt, Mary, Queen-Dowager of France, was married with
much pomp and ceremony, in the chapel of Placentia, to the Duke of
Suffolk.  In 1517 no less than three queens--Katharine of Aragon,
Margaret of Scotland, and Mary, Queen-Dowager of the same country--were
together at Greenwich, and in 1527 a grand entertainment was given
there to the French ambassadors, who had come to ask the hand of the
Princess Mary, then eleven years old, for the Duke of Orleans, the
second son of the King of France, although she was already affianced to
the Emperor Charles V.  It was at Placentia, too, that the fickle Henry
VIII. spent part of his honeymoon with Anne Boleyn, and thence that the
newly wedded pair made their triumphal progress up the river for the
coronation of the bride at Westminster on May 15, 1533, escorted by a
long procession of gaily decked barges, bearing the Lord Mayor and
Aldermen of London, the officers of the royal household, the bishops,
and great nobles with their retinues, making up such a goodly pageant
as had never before been seen on the Thames.  In the autumn of the same
year the Princess Elizabeth was born at Greenwich, and baptized in the
chapel of the Grey Friars convent.  For the next two years the
happiness of her father and mother in each other seemed to be complete;
they were often together at Placentia, dividing most of their time
between it and Hampton Court Palace, but after the birth at the latter
of Anne Boleyn's still-born son, the clouds that had already begun to
{104} gather before that event became more threatening than ever.  At a
tournament held in the palace park at Greenwich on May Day 1536, Henry
found the excuse he had been long looking for for the condemnation of
his wife.  The unfortunate queen accidentally dropped a handkerchief,
and the king chose to assume that it was meant as a signal for one of
the competing knights.  Without vouchsafing a word of explanation he
started from his seat, called to a few attendants to follow him, and
hastened off to London, ordering as he went the execution of Anne's
brother.  The next morning the same measure was meted out to the queen
herself; she was hurried off to the Tower, her request that she might
be allowed to take leave of her child being refused.  On the 19th of
the same month she was executed, her husband, to whom she had addressed
a most pathetic appeal, having steadily declined to see her again.  The
death a year later of her successor, soon after the birth of the future
King Edward VI., must have appeared a judgment on the double crime of
murder and bigamy, for the king was married to Jane Seymour the day
before the death of Anne, and it is just possible that even Henry's
hardened conscience may have reproached him, for he avoided Greenwich,
with its melancholy associations, for some little time after the loss
of his third queen.  In January 1540, however, it was the scene of the
magnificent reception of the hated Anne of Cleves, whose reluctant
suitor had decided to divorce her before the ceremony at which he
promised to cherish her till death should part him {105} from her.  On
the occasion of this mock marriage, that was celebrated in the private
chapel of Placentia, the whole of the park and of the adjoining
Blackheath, in spite of the inclement season of the year, was dotted
with tents and pavilions of cloth of gold for the accommodation of the
queen and her ladies.  To quote from Hall's _Chronicle_, the 'esquires
gentlemen pensioners and serving men (were so) well horsed and
apparelled that whoever well viewed them might say that they for tall
and comely personages and clean of limb and body' were able to give the
greatest prince in Christendom a mortal breakfast if he were the king's
enemy.'  In the opinion of this partial chronicler, however, Henry
himself, when he rode forth from the palace attended by all his great
nobles and the foreign ambassadors, far excelled them all, so rich was
his apparel, so gorgeous the trappings of his steed, 'so goodly his
personage and his royal gesture.'

Neither the doomed Catherine Howard nor the more fortunate Catherine
Parr, who, but for the fact that she survived her husband, would
probably have shared the fate of her predecessor, were ever at
Greenwich, but the palace there was the home for a short time of Edward
VI., who spent the Christmas of 1552 there, and died in it in 1553.
Queen Mary, too, occasionally resided at Placentia, leading an
extremely quiet life, that was one day disturbed by an alarming
incident, for a salute from a passing vessel was fired by mistake from
a loaded gun, and a ball pierced the wall of the room in which she sat
with her ladies, fortunately without injuring anyone.

{106}

It was Queen Elizabeth who restored to her birthplace something of the
éclat it had enjoyed during her father's lifetime.  She spent the
greater part of several summers there, celebrating on April 23 the fête
of St. George, the patron-saint of England, with great pomp, receiving
foreign ambassadors in state, and giving audience to her own faithful
subjects when it suited her humour and convenience.  In the first year
of her reign she reviewed in her park at Greenwich a large company of
London volunteers, who had banded themselves together to aid her
against the rebel Duke of Norfolk, and it was in the palace that she
held her first chapter of the Order of the Garter, after which she went
to supper with her devoted adherent, the Earl of Pembroke, at his seat
of Baynard's Castle, who, the repast over, attended her whilst she
indulged in her favourite pastime of boating on the Thames, the royal
barge attended by hundreds of smaller craft passing to and fro again
and again, to the delight of the crowds assembled on the banks to watch
the brilliant scene.

Many significant stories are told of the doings of the maiden queen at
Greenwich; how, for instance, she caused a dishonest purveyor of
poultry to be hanged on the complaint of a farmer who boldly
intercepted her on one of her progresses, crying in a loud voice, in
spite of all the efforts of the attendants to silence him, 'Which is
the Queen?  Which is the Queen?'  Elizabeth herself replied to him,
listened to all he had to say, and granted his request without more
ado, although he dared to assume that she had {107} devoured the hens
and ducks seized by her servant, declaring that she could eat more than
his own daughter, who was blessed with a very good appetite.

Every year on Maundy Thursday it was the queen's habit to wash one of
the feet of as many poor women as the years of her own life, and the
ceremony on these occasions was alike lengthy and imposing.  A service
in the chapel inaugurated the proceedings, and the feet of the chosen
women having been first thoroughly cleansed by members of the queen's
household, her majesty entered the hall attended by her whole court,
and performed her part with great condescension, kissing each foot she
had washed with earnest devotion and making over it the sign of the
cross.  Gifts of wearing apparel and food were then presented to the
women, one of them chosen beforehand receiving the costume worn by her
majesty.

It is said to have been at Greenwich that Sir Walter Raleigh was first
presented to the queen, and the oft-told episode of the cloak is by
some authorities supposed to have taken place there, the gallant young
courtier having flung down his richly decorated mantle on the
landing-stage just in time to prevent his royal patron from wetting her
feet as she alighted from her barge opposite the palace.  Whether there
be any truth in this version of the story it is certain that Raleigh
was often at Greenwich, as was also his rival the handsome Earl of
Essex, who was so soon to succeed him in the favour of the fickle
queen.  It may possibly have been from {108} Placentia that Raleigh
started for Ireland in 1587, and it was certainly there that he learned
to love his future wife Bessy Throckmorton, one of the queen's maids of
honour, jealousy of whom had much to do with his committal to the Tower
in 1592.

To the end Queen Elizabeth retained her affection for Greenwich, and
some of the last walks she took were in her beloved park there, in
which is preserved a mighty hollow oak-tree, capable of holding no less
than twenty people, that is still known as Queen Elizabeth's and is
protected by a railing from injury.  Her successor James I., however,
cared little for the palace or its grounds, and bestowed them both in
1605 upon his wife, Anne of Denmark, who became much attached to her
new possession.  She greatly improved the old palace and began the
building of another, to which she gave the name of the House of
Delight.  Her affection for Greenwich was shared by her son, Charles
I., and his wife, Henrietta Maria, who were often in residence there
before their troubles began, and had the House of Delight, which now
forms the central portion of the Royal Naval School, completed by Inigo
Jones.  They opened negotiations, too, with some of the chief artists
of the day, including Rubens, who was often their guest at Placentia,
for the painting of the walls of the new palace, but the terms asked
were prohibitive, and all too soon more pressing matters took up all
the king's time and thoughts.  After his fatal journey to Scotland
Charles I. was never again at Greenwich and for some little time after
his death the palaces there were deserted, but later Cromwell resided
for {109} some time in the older of the two.  On the Restoration the
Greenwich estate became once more the property of the royal family, and
the widowed queen Henrietta Maria lived in one of the palaces for a
short time.  That of Placentia was, however, now in such a melancholy
state of decay that it was decided to pull it down, and a new palace
was begun on its site after the designs of Inigo Jones, of which,
however, only one wing was completed, with which, says Pepys in his
_Diary_, 'the king was mightily pleased,' but his majesty's ardour soon
cooled, and writing in 1669 the gossipy journalist remarks: 'The king's
house at Greenwich goes on slow but is very pretty.'  Gradually the
slowness became stagnation, Charles II. lost all interest in the work,
and neither he nor his successors, James II. or William III., used the
new palace as a residence.  The wife of the latter, however, who
cherished many happy memories of Greenwich, resolved to turn the royal
buildings there to account by using them as a hospital for disabled
seamen.  The idea, it is said, first occurred to her after the great
victory of La Hogue in 1692, at which so many English sailors were
crippled for life; and without waiting for the return of her husband
from Holland, she at once ordered various alterations to be made to
render the building suitable for its new purpose.  Later William
entered very cordially into the scheme, and in 1694 the palace and the
estate connected with it were formally given over to trustees 'for the
relief and support of seamen of the Royal navy ... who by reason of age
or other disabilities shall be incapable of further service {110} ...
and also for the sustenance of the widows and maintenance and education
of the children of seamen happening to be slain or disabled in such sea
service.'

Unfortunately Queen Mary died before the work inaugurated by her was
completed, but William III. resolved to make the hospital a worthy
memorial of her, and entrusted the task of supplementing the existing
buildings with another of noble proportions to Sir Christopher Wren,
under whom was to work as treasurer John Evelyn, and as secretary the
famous dramatist and architect Sir John Vanbrugh, who in 1714 built the
mansion known as Vanburgh Castle, still standing on Maize Hill on the
eastern outskirts of the park, in which a number of French prisoners
were shut up during the last war with France.

Greenwich Hospital was designed without fee by Sir Christopher, for
love, as he said, of the cause of the seamen, and is considered one of
his masterpieces.  With his usual skill in subordinating detail to
general effect and dovetailing the new on to the old, he made the
colonnades connecting his work with that of his predecessors appear an
integral part of a single harmonious scheme, and fortunately there is
nothing incongruous with that scheme in the additions made since his
death.  As it now stands the hospital consists of four groups of
buildings, named respectively after Charles II., Queen Anne, Queen
Mary, and King William.  The two first on either side of the great
square face the river and are both handsome structures, but they are
excelled in beauty of design by the two last.  In Queen Mary's is the
richly decorated chapel completed in 1789 {111} that replaces an
earlier building destroyed by fire in 1779, whilst King William's
encloses the most important feature of all, the fine Painted Hall
originally the refectory of the pensioners, that was decorated between
1708 and 1729 with a series of mural and ceiling paintings by Sir James
Thornhill, and is now used as a national gallery for portraits of naval
heroes and pictures of marine subjects, some of which, notably Turner's
'Battle of Trafalgar,' are real masterpieces.  Many banquets to royal
and other distinguished guests have been held in the Painted Hall, but
the most memorable association with it is the fact that in it in 1806
the dead body of Lord Nelson lay in state for three days before it was
taken by boat on January 8 to be interred in St. Paul's Cathedral.

[Illustration: THE PAINTED HALL, GREENWICH HOSPITAL]

Until 1865 Greenwich Hospital continued to be one of the most useful
and appreciated charitable institutions of the United Kingdom, but at
that date it was decided, in accordance with the wishes of the seamen,
that they should be allowed pensions enabling them to live in their own
homes.  In 1869 the last of the inmates left, and four years later the
buildings were re-opened as a naval college, those named after Queen
Anne being set aside as a museum of naval relics, models of ships,
etc., for the use of the students, to which, however, the public are
admitted.  From the first the new school throve in a remarkable way,
and at the present day as many as a thousand pupils are received in it
at a time.

The parish church of Greenwich, dedicated to St. Alphege, occupies the
site of an earlier one, {112} that in its turn is supposed to have
replaced a chapel marking the spot where the martyrdom of the holy man
it commemorated took place.  The present building was completed in
1718, and is a fairly good example of the Renaissance style then in
vogue.  It contains a fine memorial window to its titular saint, who is
represented in his bishop's robes raising the right hand in blessing,
an ornate royal pew, some good carving by the famous Grinling Gibbons,
and on one of the walls a quaint old painting representing Charles I.
in prayer.  In the crypt beneath rest Major-General Wolfe, the hero of
Quebec, the celebrated musician, Thomas Tallis, and the famous beauty,
Polly Peacham, who became Duchess of Bolton, and resided with her
husband the duke at Westcombe Park.  In the same place was also
interred the noted antiquarian, William Lombarde, who lived in the time
of Elizabeth and founded the picturesque almshouses named after her,
still to be seen opposite the modern railway station, but when the old
church was pulled down his tomb was removed to Sevenoaks.

Greenwich Park, that was first roughly enclosed by Duke Humphrey of
Gloucester and his wife Eleanor in 1433, was further protected some two
centuries later by a brick wall erected by order of James I.  The
grounds were laid out by the famous landscape gardener, Le Nôtre,
chosen by Charles II., who took a great interest in the progress of the
work, himself planting many trees, including the noble avenue of
Spanish chestnuts that is still one of the most noteworthy features of
the park.  {113} It was the same monarch who decided to transform into
an Observatory the tower built by Duke Humphrey, which had been the
home for many years of the younger members of the royal family, and in
which the Princess Mary, one of the daughters of Edward IV., died in
1482.  Later the building, to which the inappropriate name of Mirefleur
was given, was used as a prison, and in it Queen Elizabeth had the Earl
of Leicester shut up after his marriage to the widowed Duchess of
Essex.  James I. gave the property to Henry Howard, Earl of
Northampton, founder of the still flourishing Trinity Hospital, and he
greatly enlarged the Tower, converting it into a really fine mansion.
The work of transforming it into an observatory was entrusted to Sir
Christopher Wren, who found it necessary to have the greater part taken
down, but he used the old materials; and in spite of the many additions
that have been made since his time, the group of buildings, with their
numerous turrets and domes, harmonise well with each other and their
surroundings.  Through Greenwich Observatory runs the meridian line
from which longitude is reckoned, and from it the exact time is
conveyed by electricity every day at one o'clock to the chief towns of
Great Britain.  In it elaborate records are made of the daily changes
in temperature, the direction of the wind, and many other data of
importance to astronomical and meteorological science.  The great
telescope, that is twenty-eight feet long and has an object glass of
twenty-eight inches, is the most powerful anywhere in use, and near to
the chief entrance is the huge astronomical clock that shows the {114}
true official time.  Many distinguished men have held the important
post of Astronomer-Royal at Greenwich, including Flamsteed, Halley,
Bradley, and Sir George Airey, under whose enlightened auspices the
observatory has won first rank amongst similar institutions elsewhere,
a position it seems likely long to maintain if its interests are
protected from the dangers that have recently begun to threaten them.
The annual reports issued by the Astronomer-Royal are practically a
history of astronomical science, and it is impossible to overestimate
the value of the quiet, systematic, unremitting work done under his
auspices all the year round, or of the unceasing vigilance of the
experts whose business it is to make sure that all the instruments used
are in the highest possible state of efficiency.

From the immediate vicinity of the Observatory, especially from
Flamsteed Hill, a fine view is obtained of the river with its
shipping--the Isle of Dogs, and its church, connected by a subway with
the mainland, and the country between Greenwich and London; but,
unfortunately, the long famous prospect from One Tree Hill, so called
after a single giant growth that formerly surmounted its summit, is now
nearly shut out by trees and shrubs, the planting of which it is
impossible to justify, for they were certainly not needed.  In spite of
this, however, Greenwich Park remains one of the most beautiful and
popular open spaces within easy reach of the capital.  The deer which
roam about in it are so tame that they will eat out of the hands of
strangers, and even when it is crowded {115} with holiday-makers it
still retains something of the old-fashioned aroma of days long gone
by.  The Ranger's Lodge, now used as a restaurant and meeting-place for
local clubs, that has one entrance from Greenwich Park and another from
Blackheath, so that it forms a kind of link between the two, is a fine
old mansion associated with many interesting memories of the time when
the post of Ranger was held by noble or royal personages.  It was once
the home, for instance, of the famous Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, and
later of the Dowager-Duchess of Brunswick, whose daughter, the unhappy
Caroline, Princess of Wales, lived near by in the now destroyed
Montague House, going once a week to see her child, the Princess
Charlotte, who was under the care of her mother.  In comparatively
recent times the Lodge was occupied by Prince Arthur of Connaught when
he was studying at the Woolwich Academy, and in its grounds, recently
added to the public park, is a model of a fort built by him, and a
curious bath bearing a quaint inscription.

[Sidenote: Blackheath]

The common known as Blackheath, probably because of its sombre
appearance, that adjoins the parish of Greenwich, is all that is left
of a vast unenclosed tract of country, which between the time of St.
Alphege and the early years of the nineteenth century often played an
important part in the history of England.  On it, in June 1381, Wat
Tyler and his followers were encamped for some days, their numbers
constantly increasing, before the march to London that was to end so
disastrously.  There Richard II. and his young {116} bride Isabel of
France, Henry V. and his victorious troops fresh from Agincourt, and
Henry VI. after his coronation at Paris, were at different times met by
the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London, who had come from the city to
welcome them.  There, too, after the tragic death of their leader, the
adherents of Jack Cade knelt, with halters round their necks, before
Henry VI. to plead for pardon; and there, a few months later, the same
monarch, with his army around him, awaited the coming of the Duke of
York, whose claim to the throne was stronger than his own, resolved, in
spite of all his promises to the contrary, to have him sent a prisoner
to London.  It was on Blackheath that the son of the Duke, Edward IV.
halted, in 1471, to receive the congratulations of the citizens of
London on his return from Paris after signing the famous treaty of
peace with Louis of France, and there, twenty-six years afterwards,
Henry VII. met and cut to pieces the rebels from Cornwall, who had
marched to London under the joint leadership of Lord Audley and the
sturdy blacksmith Michael Joseph, whose burial-place, a mound locally
known as the Smith's Forge, from which Whitefield used to preach, is
marked by a group of fir-trees.  To Blackheath came, in 1519, the Papal
legate Cardinal Campeggio, to take counsel with the Catholic Duke of
Norfolk, and there in the same year the High Admiral of France, the
chivalrous Bonivet, attended by many young French gallants in gorgeous
array, was welcomed with great pomp by the Earl of Surrey, who held the
same office {117} in England.  During the reigns of Henry VIII.,
Elizabeth, Charles I., and Charles II., Blackheath was, as a matter of
course, the scene of many a pageant besides the one already alluded to
in connection with Greenwich, when the wooer of so many fair women went
forth from his palace there to receive his bride, the unattractive Anne
of Cleves.  The last great historical gathering which took place on the
Heath was that of May 29, 1660, when the army was drawn up on it to
welcome back Charles II., an event graphically described by Macaulay,
who remarks: 'In the midst of the general joy at the restoration, one
spot [Blackheath] presented a dark and threatening aspect, for though
the king smiled, bowed, and extended his hand graciously to the lips of
the colonels and majors, all his courtesy was in vain.  The
countenances of the soldiers were sad and lowering, and had they given
way to their feelings the festive pageant in which they reluctantly
formed a part would have had a mournful and bloody end.'

It was in the reign of James I., who introduced in his southern
dominions the favourite game of Scotland, that was founded what is now
the oldest athletic society of England, the Blackheath Golf Club, the
history of which is one of unbroken continuity, for it has flourished
ever since, surviving the popular fair, that until it was suppressed by
Government in 1873 used to take place in May and October of every year.
Blackheath is now in fact a local playground rather than a factor in
the national life; much of it has been built over, and the little
village {118} named after it has become a populous town.  There remain,
however, a few fine old mansions to recall the days gone by, notably
that known as Morden's College at the south-eastern corner of the still
unenclosed common, built in 1694 by Sir John Morden as a home for
twelve decayed merchants, and added to later to meet the needs of the
forty pensioners now received in it, the value of the property left in
trust for the charity by the owner having greatly increased since his
death.

The village of Charlton, on a hill about halfway between Greenwich and
Woolwich, with its seventeenth-century church that has been well
restored, and its many old cottages, is now much what Blackheath was a
century ago, but it seems likely ere long to lose its picturesque
appearance.  It will always, however, retain the advantage of
commanding a fine view of the Thames valley, and it is still in touch
with much beautiful scenery.  Its manor-house, known as Charlton House,
said to have been designed by Inigo Jones, is a good example of the
domestic architecture of the period at which it was built, and probably
occupies the site of the ancient homestead that with the rest of the
estate of Charlton was given by William the Conqueror to Bishop Odo of
Bayeux.

[Illustration: RUINS OF ELTHAM PALACE]

[Sidenote: Eltham]

Two miles south-east of Greenwich is the popular suburb of Eltham, the
name of which is a contraction of the Anglo-Saxon Ealdham, signifying
the ancient homestead, that was in olden times an important town with a
royal palace, of which the banqueting-hall alone remains.  Given with
{119} Charlton and many another valuable property in southern England
to Bishop Odo of Bayeux by William the Conqueror, the manor of Eltham
passed through many vicissitudes, reverting again and again to the
Crown, and becoming after the Restoration the property of Sir John
Shaw.  The date of the erection of the palace, the ruins of which are
situated near to the picturesque mansion known as Eltham Court, is
unknown, but it is referred to as a royal residence in the supplement
to the thirteenth-century _Historia Major_ of the famous Latin
chronicler Matthew Paris, that is supposed to have been added by
William Rishanger, a monk of St. Albans Abbey.  In any case it seems
certain that Henry III. spent Christmas of 1270 in it, though it was
probably not then completed, and Edward II. and his wife Queen Isabella
were very fond of it.  It was in it that their son John, familiarly
called John of Eltham, was born, and there his elder brother Edward
III. took his young bride, Philippa of Hainault, in 1328.  The first
parliament of his reign was held in it, and he was residing there just
before he broke free from the pernicious influence of his mother, whom
he banished to Rising Castle.  It was at Eltham that the famous banquet
was given to the captive king John of France by Edward III. and the
Black Prince in 1363, at which probably the princess royal, who was to
become the wife of the prisoner, was present; and there the English
monarch presided, the year before the death of his beloved son, over
the parliament that met after the {120} conclusion of the long war with
France.  Richard II., who was made Prince of Wales at Eltham in 1375,
spent a good deal of time there during his minority, and went there
after his marriage in 1382 to his first wife Anne of Bohemia, who
shared his affection for the palace.  The royal couple kept Christmas
at Eltham in 1384, 1385, and 1386, receiving on the last occasion Leo,
King of Bohemia, who had come to England to plead for aid against the
Turks, and also a less welcome deputation of the faithful Commons who
had sought an audience to remonstrate with the young king on his
extravagance.

In 1395, a year after the death of Queen Anne, which was such a bitter
grief to Richard, the French historian Froissart, who was then engaged
in writing his famous _Chronicles_, went to Eltham to present one of
his books to the widowed king, and was present at a council, of which
he gives a very graphic account.  He was also, he relates, admitted to
a private audience in the monarch's bedroom and he tells how he laid
his gift upon the bed and how greatly the recipient appreciated it, for
he dipped eagerly into the manuscript here and there reading portions
of it aloud.

It was at Eltham in 1396 that the marriage was arranged between Richard
II. and the eight-year-old Isabella, daughter of Charles VI. of France,
and it was from the palace that the newly married pair went forth in
great state for the coronation of the bride in Westminster Abbey.
Isabella was but eleven years old when three years later her husband
{121} was deposed, and they were never again at Eltham; but Henry IV.
often held his court in the palace, spending Christmas there no less
than four times.  It was in it that he was first seized with the
illness that terminated fatally in Westminster Abbey in March 1413, and
there that his son and successor Henry V. spent much of the short time
he lived in England.  From Eltham Palace he hastened up to London in
January 1414 to deal with the Lollards.  Henry VI., after his long
minority, and before he realised how insecure was his tenure of the
throne, went to Eltham to superintend the restoration of the palace for
the reception of his wife, Margaret of Anjou, and her infant son, the
ill-fated Prince Edward, but so far as the royal family was concerned
his labour was all in vain.  The queen never saw the home prepared for
her, and it was her bitter enemy Edward IV. who reaped the benefit of
her husband's improvements.  The new king became greatly attached to
his palace at Eltham, and some authorities attribute the building of
the banqueting-hall to him, though the probability is that he only
enlarged and beautified it.  In 1480 his third daughter Bridget was
born in the palace, and baptized in the private chapel, and in 1482,
three months before his sudden death, the king kept Christmas there
with great pomp, daily entertaining more than two thousand guests.  The
founder of the Tudor dynasty too, Henry VII., whose marriage with one
of Edward IV.'s daughters united the red and white roses, kept up the
traditions of Eltham hospitality, and did much to embellish the palace,
building, according to Hasted, a handsome {122} front towards the moat.
The sixteenth-century chronicler Lambarde gives a vivid description of
the fair residence at Eltham, but he also strikes the note of the
waning of its glory, for he remarks that the court was beginning to
prefer Greenwich to it.  Henry VIII., it is true, was sometimes at
Eltham, keeping Christmas there in 1515, when a mock tournament was
held in the banqueting-hall, and again in 1526 when he took refuge
there from the plague then raging in London, but he never really cared
for the palace as a residence.  In 1527 Cardinal Wolsey, who was still
in high favour, spent a fortnight at Eltham, drawing up there what are
known as the Statutes of Eltham, and are still honoured at the English
court for regulating the affairs of the royal household.  This was
perhaps the last time that any important gatherings assembled in the
once popular residence, for though Queen Elizabeth and James I. were
sometimes there, their visits were but brief.  Charles I. never lived
in the palace, but his favourite painter Sir Antony van Dyck was once
the guest of the king's physician Sir Theodore de Mayerne in what was
then Park Lodge, and Horace Walpole in his chatty _Anecdotes of
Painting_ refers to sketches made by the great master in the
neighbourhood.

After the death on the scaffold of Charles I., Eltham Palace was taken
possession of by parliament, and a report was drawn up of its
condition, in which it is stated that it consisted of a fair chapel, a
great hall, and several suites of apartments covering an acre of
ground, all very much out of repair.  {123} A little later the entire
building was sold for the modest sum of £2753, the chapel and all the
rooms were pulled down, and the grand banqueting-hall was converted
into a barn.  Several centuries elapsed before any effort was made to
rescue it from this degraded position, but in 1828, at the instance of
the Princess Sophia, who was then living at Greenwich, it was carefully
restored, and it now remains, with the picturesque ivy-clad bridge
spanning the moat, a notable witness to what must have been the beauty
and grandeur of the group of buildings of which it was once the most
remarkable feature.  The hammer-beam roof, in spite of the loss of most
of its pendants, ranks with that of Westminster Hall as a fine example
of combined lightness and strength of construction, and the effect of
the vast and lofty hall, with its grand bays at the upper end, must
indeed have been impressive before the windows by which it was lighted
from both sides were blocked up.

When Eltham Palace was pulled down, the three parks that had belonged
to it were also practically destroyed, all the venerable trees in them
having been cut down, so that, as remarked by a seventeenth-century
writer of somewhat gruesome tastes, there was scarcely one left to make
a gibbet, the deer were killed off, and what had long been one of the
most beautiful neighbourhoods near London was transformed into a scene
of desolation.

In spite of its many interesting associations there is now little that
is distinctive about modern Eltham.  Its church, however, retains the
quaint wooden tower and shingle spire of an earlier building, and {124}
there are a few fine old mansions in the neighbourhood, notably the
Elizabethan Well Hall, now a farmhouse, in which Sir Thomas More's
favourite daughter, Margaret Roper, lived for some time.

Two densely populated suburbs, that not long ago were remote and
secluded villages, picturesquely built on the Ravensbourne, are Lee and
Lewisham, the former connected with Eltham Palace by a subterranean
passage which was discovered in 1836, and is supposed to have formed
part of a complete system of communication between the latter and the
outer world.  Its exit from the Eltham end was protected by massive
iron gates beneath the moat, near to which a flight of steps led down
to a strong-room, probably used as a hiding-place for treasure, though,
strange to say, there are no local traditions concerning it.

[Sidenote: Chiselhurst]

All that is now left at Lee to recall the old days when it was an
outlying hamlet of Eltham, is the tower of the ancient parish church;
and Lewisham, the name of which means the homestead in the meadow, is
even more modernised, though its history can be traced back to
Anglo-Saxon times, when it seems to have formed part with Greenwich and
the two Coombes of one property that was given, as related above, by
Ethelruda, a niece of King Alfred to the Abbey of St. Paul's at Ghent,
in connection with which a Benedictine priory was founded at Lewisham,
the memory of which is preserved in the name of the Priory Farm
occupying its site.  Another suburb in close touch with Eltham is
Mottino-ham that retains more of its rural character than either {125}
Lee or Lewisham; and not far away are the still pretty villages of
Rushey Green, Catford, and Catford Bridge.  More celebrated than any of
these, however, is the important settlement of Chislehurst, that, owing
chiefly to the exceptional beauty of its situation on a lofty common,
defended from encroachment by a natural rampart of woods, seems likely
to be able long to defy the levelling influences which have spoiled so
many of the districts of outlying London.

Originally but a remote and secluded hamlet scarcely known to the
outside world, Chislehurst has of late years become a centre of
archæological interest, for in addition to its other attractions it
enjoys the unique distinction of being in close touch with one of the
most remarkable and extensive systems of subterranean galleries and
caves, the ramifications of which are supposed to be many miles in
length, that have yet been discovered in England.  The existence of
this underground world was long known, but it is only recently, thanks
to the enterprise of Mr. Ryan, proprietor of the Beckley Arms Hotel, in
whose grounds there is an entrance to it, that it has been opened to
the public.  Mr. Ryan had many of the galleries and chambers cleared of
the rubbish--the accumulation of centuries--encumbering them, and
lighted them with electricity, so that it is now possible to explore
them without fear of being lost or buried alive.  The origin and
purpose of this wonderful net-work of excavations are alike unknown,
some experts claiming that they were used for Druidical worship, two
altar tables, probably used {126} for sacrifices, having been found;
whilst others are of opinion that they were used as hiding-places in
times of war, or as storehouses for grain and treasure.  Some few of
the smaller chambers, that are mere cells, can only be entered on all
fours, and could be defended by a single man, whilst the larger ones
are capable of holding as many as fifty people.  There were two ways of
gaining access to them, one by steps in the sides of the shafts pierced
here and there, the other with the aid of a notched pole which could
easily be removed, and Mr. Nicholls, Vice-President of the
Archæological Society, in a deeply interesting pamphlet on the subject,
expresses an opinion that in times of danger the whole population of
the district may have lived contentedly underground for weeks at a
time.  'The little colony,' he says, 'might be working in the fields or
tending their cattle; suddenly a cry of alarm is raised, the lookout
man rushes in and reports that the enemy is approaching in force.  If,'
he adds, 'the incursion were too strong to be resisted, there would be
an immediate stampede; the population would swarm down the shafts, and
in a few minutes not a sound would be left to guide the invaders.  Even
if the raiders succeeded in finding a shaft they would be practically
helpless, since one or two resolute men at the foot could hold it
against a host.'  Possibly the caves may have been used in succession
by many different tenants, the Britons after their defeat by the Romans
may have withdrawn into yet deeper recesses of the forests, and their
conquerors may have driven new galleries through the ancient moatings,
to be in {127} their turn supplanted by the Jutes, the Angles, and the
Saxons, so that could the whole story of the excavations be read, fresh
light might be thrown on much of the early history of Southern England.
As time goes on, and further explorations are made, new facts may come
to light, but at present, in spite of the many theories advanced, the
mystery remains unsolved.

Originally a dependency of Dartford, now a thriving manufacturing town,
the manor of Chislehurst, the name of which is supposed to signify a
wood of pebbles, was given by King John to a Norman noble known as
Hugh, Earl of St. Paul, and after many vicissitudes it became the
property, in 1584, of the Walsingham family, to whom it was granted on
a long lease by Queen Elizabeth.  The Walsinghams were already in
residence in Chislehurst, and the future minister, Sir Francis, was
born in the village in 1536, though exactly where is not known, the
so-called manor-house near the church, which is generally spoken of as
his birthplace, not having been built until 1584.

[Illustration: CHISLEHURST CHURCH AND COMMON]

The parish church of Chislehurst, though practically modern, was built
on the lines of its sixteenth-century predecessor, and with its lofty
spire presents a picturesque appearance.  It contains the altar tomb of
the Walsingham family and several other noteworthy memorials, including
a fifteenth-century brass in memory of Alan Porter, and a monument to
William Selwyn, designed by Chantrey.  The font is said to be of great
antiquity, and may possibly have been in use in Saxon times, and in
{128} the churchyard are some interesting old tombs, including that in
which rest the remains of Mr. and Mrs. Bonar, who were murdered by
their servant in 1813.

A well-preserved cock-pit, now fortunately disused, opposite the
church, is another Chislehurst link with the past, and in the
neighbourhood are some fine old mansions, of which the most noteworthy
is Camden Place, named after the antiquarian William Camden, who bought
it in 1609, but more celebrated as having been the scene of the cruel
fate of Mr. and Mrs. Bonar, and the home later of Napoleon III., who
died in it in 1873.  The widowed Empress Eugénie lived in it for some
time, and built the memorial chapel in connection with the little Roman
Catholic chapel in Crown Lane, in which rested the remains of her
husband, and later of her son, before their removal to the Mausoleum at
Farnborough, near her present home.  It was at Camden Place that the
Empress received the news of the death in South Africa of the Prince
Imperial, to whose memory she erected the fine cross outside the
entrance gates.

Within easy reach of Chislehurst, and sharing to some extent the beauty
of its surroundings, are the charming village of Beckley, that owns a
fine modern church and a picturesque tower, the latter now the property
of the Kent Water Company, and the thriving town of Bromley, the name
of which is derived from the broom that flourishes in the
neighbourhood.  The latter owns what was once the palace of the bishops
of Rochester, {129} built on the site of the ancient manor-house, and
now a private residence, in the grounds of which is a medicinal well
dedicated to St. Blaise, that used to be credited with miraculous
powers of healing, and is associated with the memory of King Ethelbert,
for to commemorate his conversion to Christianity special indulgences
were granted to those who drank its waters.  Another noteworthy feature
of Bromley is the well-restored parish church--in which rests the wife
of Dr. Johnson--rising from the highest point of the town, and
approached by an avenue of venerable elms from a picturesque lych gate,
whilst here and there in the town are a few quaint old houses, and a
little outside it the seventeenth-century buildings of Bromley College,
now a home for the widows and daughters of clergymen.

[Sidenote: Beckenham]

Another village of Kent that has of late years grown into a town is
Beckenham, prettily situated on a tributary of the Ravensbourne, in the
original straggling high street of which there remain, however, several
ancient half-timbered houses.  The old manor-house known as Beckenham
Place, too, is still standing, and the modern parish church is as
nearly as possible a reproduction of the old one that was pulled down
on account of its melancholy state of decay in 1885.  The
well-preserved lych gate, with an avenue of yews leading from it to the
southern entrance, is but little changed from what it was long years
ago, and in the rebuilding of the church care was taken to preserve the
old monuments, that include the altar-tomb of Sir Humphrey Style, who
died in 1552, and that of {130} Dame Margaret Damsell, who passed away
in 1563.

The history of Beckenham Manor can be traced back to pre-Norman times:
it was given by William the Conqueror to Bishop Odo of Bayeux, and in
the reign of Edward I. it was in the possession of the De la Rochelle
family.  Later it was owned, in right of his wife, by William Brandon,
who was standard-bearer to Henry, Earl of Richmond, and was killed at
the battle of Bosworth.  During the reign of Henry VII., Charles, Duke
of Suffolk, the son of this William Brandon, often visited Beckenham
Place, and is said to have there entertained Henry VIII. when that
monarch was on his way to meet his bride Anne of Cleves.

The rapidly growing suburb of Shortlands--the birthplace of the
historian George Grote--connects Beckenham with Bromley, and in touch
with it are several noted mansions, including the Georgian Langley
House, Eden Lodge, named after the first Lord Auckland, who lived in it
for many years, and was often visited by William Pitt, and the
eighteenth-century Kelsey House, on the site of an earlier residence
that is often referred to in the records of the reigns of Henry III.
and his successors.



{131}

CHAPTER VI

OUTLYING LONDON IN NORTH-EAST SURREY

[Sidenote: Dulwich]

Of the many villages of Northern Surrey that have during the last
half-century been converted into popular suburbs of London, few have
had a more interesting history than Dulwich, which has, moreover, in
spite of all the changes that have taken place in it and its
surroundings, retained something of the sylvan character that
distinguished it when it was a mere outlying forest hamlet of the
monastery of Bermondsey.  On the dissolution of the religious houses
the manor of Dulwich was given by Henry VIII. to Thomas Calton, from
whose descendants it was bought in 1606 by the famous actor and Lord
Mayor of London, Edward Alleyn, who on his retirement from the stage
took up his residence in the ancient mansion belonging to it, from
which he watched the rising up of the 'Chappell, Schoole House and
Almshouses' that formed the nucleus of the celebrated college founded
by him, to which he gave the beautiful name of God's Gift.

In his delightful retreat the generous patron worked out the details of
his scheme with the aid of his architect and other helpers, and in its
grand {132} old hall he probably received the first master and warden
of his new foundation, and nominated the earliest recipients of his
bounty.  From the Dulwich manor-house, too, are dated many of the
letters still preserved, that reveal the difficulties with which Edward
Alleyn had to contend before he could obtain the royal sanction
necessary to the permanent success of his enterprise, his chief
opponent, strange to say, having been the enlightened Lord Bacon, then
Lord Chancellor of England, who was anxious that he should endow
learning rather than relieve poverty.  In 1619, however, the victory
was finally won, for on the 21st June of that year the Great Seal of
England was affixed to letters patent granting leave to Edward Alleyn
'to found and establish a college in Dulwich to endure and remain for
ever to the glory of Almighty God.'  God's Gift College, thus started
on its long and useful career, originally consisted of a master and a
warden, both to be of the same name as the founder, four fellows, six
poor brethren, six poor sisters, and twelve poor scholars to be
selected from four London parishes.  Later, however, the founder
somewhat extended his scheme, admitting eighty instead of twelve
students, and allowing the children of non-resident parents to share in
the benefits of the college on the payment of a small fee.

[Illustration: DULWICH COLLEGE]

The land included with the 'Chappell, Schoole House and Almshouses' in
Edward Alleyn's munificent gift extended from the heights now covered
with houses, known as Champion and Denmark Hill, across the valley in
which nestled the village of Dulwich, {133} to the lofty ridges now
occupied by Sydenham and Forest Hill, the value of which has increased
more than a thousandfold since the death of the donor, so that it
became absolutely necessary to modify the original rules, which, in
spite of Alleyn's earnest desire to provide for future contingencies,
were from the first wanting in the elasticity necessary to meet the
inevitable changes that time brings about.  Not until 1857, however,
was any radical transformation effected, but at that date an Act of
Parliament was passed fully meeting the necessities of the case.

The buildings erected under the superintendence of Alleyn fell into
decay soon after their completion, and those replacing them suffered
much during the Civil War, when troops were quartered in the chapel,
who not only defaced the walls and desecrated the altar, but melted
down the leaden coffins enshrined in it to convert the material into
bullets.  After the death of Charles I., whose cause had been espoused
by the fellows, all the revenues and lands of the college were
confiscated by Cromwell, but on the accession of Charles II. they were
restored to their owners, and they have never since been tampered with.

The ancient college buildings have been well restored, and retain the
old entrance-gates of finely wrought iron surmounted by the crest and
motto of the founder.  They are grouped about a central square, and
consist of a chapel, in the chancel of which Edward Alleyn is buried, a
dining-hall, and an audit room, in which is an interesting collection
{134} of portraits, a library containing more than five thousand
volumes, a schoolroom, and a kitchen.  Adjoining the quadrangle, on the
south-west, is the comparatively modern picture-gallery, built after
the designs of Sir John Soane for the reception of a fine collection of
pictures bequeathed to the college in 1811 by Sir Francis Bourgeois, on
the singular condition that he and his friends, Monsieur and Madame
Desenfans, from whom he had inherited the paintings, should be buried
near them.  Their remains rest in a mausoleum connected with the
gallery, that was thrown open to the public in 1817, and contains,
amongst many other priceless treasures, masterpieces by Rembrandt,
Murillo, Velasquez, Gainsborough, and Sir Joshua Reynolds.  The new
school buildings at Dulwich were built under the superintendence of Sir
Charles Barry after the radical change in the constitution of the
college, and were opened in 1870.  They include a noble central block
with a spacious hall, a lecture-theatre and library, whilst two wings
connected with them afford accommodation for a large staff of masters
and some eight hundred boys.

[Sidenote: Sydenham]

Although the fame of its college and gallery has long since eclipsed
that of its spa, Dulwich was at one time much frequented by the wealthy
citizens of London, who resorted there to drink the waters of a spring
near the Green Man Inn, the site of which was later occupied by the
private school of Dr. Glennie, pulled down in its turn in 1825, in
which Lord Byron was a pupil for two years.  There was a rival well in
the neighbouring hamlet of Sydenham {135} that was even more popular,
but all traces of both are now lost, and there is absolutely nothing
about the densely populated neighbourhood dominated by the Crystal
Palace, to recall the days when Campbell lived in the old house still
standing on Peak Hill, where he wrote 'Gertrude of Wyoming,'
'O'Connor's Child,' and the 'Battle of the Baltic.'  The view from the
terrace of the palace itself is of course much the same in its general
features as that upon which the poet looked down, but the forest in
which he used to wander, that gave its name to Forest Hill, is replaced
by a sea of villas with no special character about them.  Fortunately
the palace, in spite of the north wing having been destroyed by fire in
1866, is a dignified-looking structure.  It was built with the
materials and partly on the plan of the Great Exhibition of 1851, and
the public are to be congratulated on the fact that its three hundred
acres of grounds preserve some of their original rural character when
the district was one of the most beautiful near London.

[Illustration: THE CRYSTAL PALACE]

Anerley, once famed for its tea-gardens; Gypsy Hill, long the haunt of
Zingari squatters; Norwood, or the wood north of Croydon; Streatham,
long the home of Mrs. Piozzi, with whom Dr. Johnson often stayed; and
Penge, that appears in an early nineteenth-century map as a town with
one inn, the Crooked Billet, were all for many centuries outlying
settlements, each with a distinctive charm of its own, the last-named
set in the midst of a wide-stretching common crossed by the Croydon
Canal with many picturesque locks, now replaced by the {136} iron road,
the levelling influence of which is apparent on every side.

[Sidenote: Hayes]

From the somewhat melancholy fate that has overtaken so much of Kent
and Surrey, the wildly beautiful Keston Common has so far escaped, and
the villages of Hayes and Keston, both on its north-western edge, are
still unspoiled.  The former has a well-restored Early English church,
its Georgian rectory is a fine example of the domestic architecture of
its period, and near to it is the celebrated Hayes Place, built in 1757
by the great orator and statesman, Lord Chatham, whose favourite home
it was.  In it, two years after its completion, was born his even more
famous son, William Pitt the younger, whose childhood was passed in a
small house connected with Hayes Place by a covered-in passage, for his
father was already suffering from the depression which so often clouded
his happiness, and, as related by Horace Walpole, who was a frequent
guest of Lord Chatham, the harassed statesman 'could not bear his
children under the same roof, nor communication from room to room, nor
whatever he thought promoted noise.'  When in 1766 the elder Pitt
inherited another property elsewhere Hayes Place was sold to the
Honourable Thomas Walpole, but its previous owner was taken ill soon
afterwards, and entreated the purchaser to let him have it back.  He
was convinced, he said, that he could recover nowhere else, and his
whim was humoured, with the best results.  Lord Chatham returned to his
old home, which was his chief residence until his death.  There he
received George II.  {137} and George III., as well as the leading
politicians of the day; and there the young General Wolfe dined with
him on the eve of sailing for Canada.  The younger William Pitt was now
the constant companion of the 'oracle of Hayes,' as his father was
affectionately called by his intimates, imbibing from him no doubt much
of the practical wisdom that from the first distinguished him; and he
it was who had the melancholy privilege of carrying the stricken
minister from the House of Lords when he fell down insensible after his
noble speech against the unworthy terms of peace proposed by the Duke
of Richmond.  The dying statesman was taken back to Hayes Place, where
in a small room on the ground floor he breathed his last four weeks
later.

After the death of Lord Chatham, Hayes Place was sold, and since then
it has changed hands many times, but fortunately its various owners
have respected it for the sake of its memories, and but for the
addition of a new entrance-hall it remains practically what it was
during the occupancy of its first owner.  It is the same with the
stables, that are some little distance from the house, which have been
kept as they were when the old earl and his sons used daily to go down
to inspect the horses, and in one corner of the yard is a platform from
which, according to tradition, William Pitt the younger used to
rehearse his speeches in the presence of his father and the rest of the
household.

Keston village, originally a dependency of the manor of the same name
that was once the property {138} of Bishop Odo of Bayeux, consists of a
few old houses and cottages, some grouped about the Red Cross Inn, also
known as Keston Mark, possibly because it is situated on an ancient
boundary, others on the common near a picturesque windmill.  Its
church, a humble little sanctuary, with a nave and chancel only,
contains a fine Norman arch, possibly a relic of an earlier building,
and in its quiet graveyard rests the novelist Mrs. Craik, better known
as Miss Muloch.

[Sidenote: Holwood House]

On Keston Common, in a spring known as Cæsar's Well, rises the
Ravensbourne, which widens close by into a series of ponds overshadowed
by venerable trees, and near to them, within the grounds of Holwood
House, are the remains of a Roman camp in which, according to some
authorities, Aulus Plautius awaited the coming of the Emperor Claudius
to receive the homage of the conquered Britons.  Whether there be any
foundation for this belief or not, there appears at one time to have
been an important Roman settlement on Holwood Hill, a complete villa,
the foundations of a temple, and many bricks and tiles having been
unearthed at different times.  Keston is, however, now chiefly
celebrated for its connection with William Pitt, who lived for many
years in a house that occupied the site of the present mansion in
Holwood Park.  Even when still a child living on his father's estate at
Hayes, Pitt longed, as he often told his friends, 'to call the wood of
Holwood his own,' and great was his delight when, in 1785, two years
after he became Prime Minister, he was able to purchase it.  The table
at {139} which he used to write is still preserved in Holwood House,
and the park was laid out by him.  Many of its trees were planted by
his own hand, and others, already venerable when he became their owner,
are associated with interesting incidents of his career.  One noble
wide-spreading oak near the chief entrance to the park is specially
revered, because of the tradition that Pitt and William Wilberforce
were seated beneath it when they arranged the opening of the campaign
against slavery, a fact commemorated by a quotation from one of the
latter's letters that is cut in the back of a stone seat marking their
resting-place, placed in position by Lord Stanhope in 1862.  'I well
remember,' said the philanthropist, 'after a conversation with Mr.
Pitt, in the open air, on the root of an old tree at Holwood, just
above the steep descent into the vale of Keston, I resolved to give
notice, on a fit occasion, to bring forward the abolition of the
slave-trade.'  The important meeting probably took place in 1787, and
Wilberforce was often at Holwood House during the first few of the
nineteen years' struggle thus inaugurated, finding distraction from his
ever accumulating worries in aiding his host in his amateur woodcraft.
In his diary for April 7, 1790, for instance, he records how he sallied
forth with Pitt and Grenville, then Speaker of the House of Commons,
'armed with bill-hooks, cutting new walks from one large tree to
another through the thickets,' neither of them dreaming how soon the
beautiful estate would cease to belong to their host who, a little
later, was compelled to part with it.  It was {140} sold for £15,000, a
very large sum for those days, and, after changing hands more than
once, was bought by a Mr. John Ward, who, with little respect for its
memories, pulled down the old house to make room for an ornate villa in
the Italian style, and cleared away much of the woods that had been the
Prime Minister's especial pride.

[Sidenote: West Wickham]

Though not quite so picturesquely situated as Keston, the neighbouring
villages of Farnborough and Downe--the former associated with the name
of Sir John Lubbock, who lived for some years at High Elms, the latter
with that of Charles Darwin, who long resided at Downe House--have
something of its quiet charm.  West Wickham, too, though it has
unfortunately recently been discovered by the jerry-builder, is still a
pretty place, the older cottages and farms clustering about Wickham
Court, erected on the site of the original manor-house in the reign of
Edward III. by Sir Henry Heydon, but almost entirely rebuilt in the
time of Henry VIII.  The Heydons were near relations of Anne Boleyn,
who is said to have passed some of her happiest days at Wickham Court
when her royal suitor was courting her, a tradition confirmed by the
true-lovers' knot in which her initials and Henry's are intertwined,
engraved on one of the windows in the dining-hall.  Very often,
probably, the enamoured pair paced to and fro on the smooth
bowling-green or on the long grass walk, still known as Anne Boleyn's,
between the dense yew hedges, that remain unchanged to this day.
Sometimes, too, it is related, the fair Anne would await the coming of
her lover in a little Gothic {141} tower, to which a subterranean
corridor gave access, and the two may possibly have explored together
the secret passages that led beneath the grounds of the mansion to
Hayes Common and elsewhere.  A new entrance was made to Wickham Court
by Sir Charles Farnaby, the ancestor of the present owner, but the rest
of the house is much what it was when completed in the sixteenth
century, and is a fine example of Tudor domestic architecture.  The
massive oaken door, with its huge iron bolt, may be the very one that
was so often flung open to admit the guests of the Heydons, including
Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, to pass through to the banquets held in
the great hall.  It bears the marks of many a siege, and must have
received very rough usage in the troublous times of the Stuarts, when
the gloomy dungeon beneath the north-west turret served sometimes as a
prison to the enemies, sometimes as a hiding-place to the friends of
the owner of the property.

The church of West Wickham, which, with the creeper-clad turrets and
chimneys of the court form a charming group when seen from a distance,
was rebuilt at the same time as the latter by Sir Henry Heydon, and
owns some fine sixteenth-century windows, including one representing
scenes from the legend of St. Catherine.  There are also some
well-preserved monuments and brasses in the nave and chancel, and in
the churchyard, entered by an ancient lych gate, with a tiled roof, are
some interesting old tombs.

In a wood not far from West Wickham is the grand old hollow oak painted
by Millais as the {142} hiding-place of his 'Proscribed Royalist,' and
the village itself is associated with the memory of many other famous
men.  Before Lord Chatham bought the mansion at Hayes in which his
celebrated son was born, he lived for some years at South Lodge, and in
a smaller house dwelt the Latin chronicler Gilbert West, who was often
visited in his retreat by William Pitt the younger, Lord Lyttelton, and
the eccentric merchant poet Richard Glover.

[Sidenote: Addington]

Another ancient and still picturesque village of Surrey is the
beautifully situated Addington, the name of which is supposed to
signify the town of the Edings, though who these Edings were history
does not say.  The manor is referred to in Doomsday Book as being held
under the king by Tezelm, a cook in the royal service, and from that
time to the accession of George III. the owners of the property were
bound to observe the quaint custom of preparing a dish, or providing a
substitute to do so, for the monarch's consumption on the day of his
coronation.  The last time the strange ceremony was performed was in
1760, when Mr. Spencer, then lord of the manor, presented to the newly
crowned monarch a dish of pottage made according to an ancient recipe,
and containing an extraordinary number of ingredients.

Early in the fifteenth century a manor-house that was more of a
stronghold than a private home, was erected at Addington, on what is
still known as Castle Hill, but it was pulled down in 1780 and replaced
by a less ambitious building on another site, that later became a
summer residence of the Archbishops of {143} Canterbury, to whom the
property passed by purchase in 1807.  With the chapel and library,
added in 1830, it now presents a very dignified appearance, and is
surrounded by a beautiful park.

The parish church of Addington, though it has been much modified by
restoration, retains a fine Norman arch dividing the nave from the
chancel, some early Gothic arcades and three very ancient windows, with
a good modern one to the memory of Archbishop Tait, who with his wife
and one of his sons lie buried in the churchyard, close to Archbishop
Longley.  In the chancel are some quaint old monuments, notably one to
some members of the Leigh family, and several interesting brasses,
including that to the memory of Thomas Hatteclyff, who was one of the
Masters of the Household of Henry VIII., and died in 1540.

There is little very distinctive about the modern village of Addington,
though it retains a few quaint old cottages, and is celebrated for its
inhabitants' love of flowers.  It is, however, set down in very
beautiful scenery, that seems likely long to remain unspoiled.  Within
easy reach of it and of Croydon, the former residence of the
Archbishops of Canterbury, are several other pretty villages and
hamlets, including Shirley, with a good modern church, finely situated
on the edge of a breezy common; Woodside, that is rapidly losing its
rural character through its proximity to the racecourse and railway;
and Addiscombe, once famous for a fine old mansion, long the residence
of Lord Liverpool, which was pulled down in 1863.  When Lord Liverpool,
who {144} became Prime Minister in 1809, was at Addiscombe, his
predecessor in that office, William Pitt, was often his guest, and the
story goes that on one occasion the latter had a narrow escape from
sudden death, for he and a party of politicians, who had been dining
with the Tory statesman, dashed through the turnpike gates, without
paying the toll.  The keeper, supposing them to be highwaymen, fired
his blunderbuss at the offenders, but with such bad aim that no one was
hurt--somewhat, it was rumoured at the time, to the regret of Pitt's
many enemies, who would gladly have heard of his removal from their
path.

In a charming district east of Croydon are several other still
picturesque villages that are gradually being drawn into the
ever-widening circle of outlying London, amongst which must be
specially noted Sanderstead, perched on the brink of the chalk-downs
some 550 feet above the sea level.  Mentioned in the will of its
Anglo-Saxon owner in 871 as Sansterstede, the manor was in the
possession one hundred and ninety-five years later of the abbey of St.
Peter's, Westminster, and in the family of the Wigsells, to whom it now
belongs, is preserved an interesting memorial of that ownership in the
form of a deed bearing the abbey seal, recording the exchange of half a
hide of land for a piece of equal value at Papeholt.

[Sidenote: Purley]

Although it has unfortunately been somewhat spoiled by restoration, the
general appearance of the fifteenth-century parish church of
Sanderstead, with its square tower and shingled spire, is much what it
{145} was when, in 1676, the mansion replacing the old
manor-house--that is said to have been constructed of the materials of
a twelfth-century monastery--was completed, and amongst the monuments
preserved in it are three of considerable antiquarian interest: that of
Joanna Ownstead, who died in 1587; that of her brother, John Ownstead,
who was for forty years in the service of Queen Elizabeth, and passed
away in 1601; and that to Mary Bedell bearing the date 1655.  Within a
short walk of Sanderstead is the village of Purley, generally believed
to be named after William de Pirelea, who bought the land on which it
and the mansion known as Purley Lodge are built, some time in the
twelfth century, from the abbot of the neighbouring Monastery of Hide,
of which no trace now remains.  The date of the building of Purley
Lodge is not known, but it is famous as having been the residence of
John Bradshaw, who was President of the High Court of Justice that
condemned Charles I. to death.  Later it was the home of William Tooke,
who often received in it his more celebrated friend, the Rev. John
Horne, who took the name of his host in gratitude for the kindness
shown to him in the long struggle with the Government during the War of
Independence.  After the imprisonment of Horne for getting up a
subscription for the widows and orphans of those who fell at Lexington,
or, as he expressed it, were murdered by the king's troops, Tooke gave
him an asylum at Purley, and it was there that he completed the quaint
_Epea Ptroenta_, to which he gave the sub-title of the 'Diversions of
Purley.'  On his {146} death William Tooke bequeathed £8000 and Purley
Lodge to Horne, who, though he had a house at Wimbledon, where he died
in 1812, was often at Purley.  He wished to be buried in the garden of
the Lodge, and had prepared his grave and tombstone, the latter bearing
the inscription--'John Horne Tooke, late Proprietor and now occupier of
this spot, born in June 1736, died in--aged--contented and
grateful'--but his relatives disregarded his instructions, and he rests
in the parish where he breathed his last.

Other still secluded hamlets of north-east Surrey are Farley, with a
very interesting Norman and Early English church, and a quaint old
moated manor-house, now a farm, and Warlingham, long celebrated for its
beautiful common, that was, alas, enclosed in 1864 with the exception
of five acres that were reserved for a recreation-ground, the latter
with a well-restored old church of uncertain date, the first, according
to tradition, in which the service of Edward VI. was used.

[Sidenote: Caterham]

Warlingham was one of the four hams or homes on the hill occupied
before the Conquest by the Saxon tribe known as Wearlingas, the other
three having been Woldingham, Chelsham, and Caterham, near to all of
which extensive remains have been found of early encampments and
defences.  Woldingham, that gives its name to a new suburb close by, is
still a village, though its doom is evidently sealed, and it is the
same with Chelsham, but Caterham has already grown into a town.
Picturesquely built, partly in a beautiful valley and partly on the
{147} slope of a hill, it retains, however, some interesting relics of
the long-ago, including a well-restored fourteenth-century church, and
all four of the ancient hams are in touch with beautiful scenery, lofty
and breezy commons commanding fine views alternating with well-wooded
undulating districts.



{148}

CHAPTER VII

  CROYDON, CARSHALTON, EPSOM, AND OTHER
  SUBURBS IN NORTH-WEST SURREY

[Sidenote: Croydon]

Situated near the source of the Wandle at the entrance to a beautiful
valley that is shut in on the east by wooded hills, and on the west and
south-west by breezy uplands, the prosperous modern town of Croydon
occupies the site of a very ancient settlement that owned before the
Conquest a church and a mill, as proved by the detailed description
given of it in Doomsday Book.  Now one of the largest and most
important, though by no means the most picturesque of the Surrey
suburbs of London, Croydon, the name of which is variously interpreted
to mean the chalk hill, the crooked or winding valley, and the village
of the cross, is associated from very early times with the history of
the Church in England.  Its manor, the value of which was assessed at
the Conquest at sixteen hides and one virgate, was given by William I.
to Archbishop Lanfranc of Canterbury, to whose successors it long
belonged, though the palace that in course of time replaced the ancient
manor-house was deserted by them in the middle of the eighteenth
century and {149} was later altogether superseded by that at Addington
already referred to.

[Illustration: THE OLD PALACE, CROYDON]

Combining, as did most of the episcopal residences of mediæval times,
the strength of a fortress and the latest refinements of domestic
architecture, the palace of Croydon before its partial destruction must
have been a kind of epitome of the various styles that succeeded each
other between the eleventh and eighteenth centuries, or, to quote the
words of Archbishop Herring writing in 1754, 'an aggregate of buildings
of different castes and ages.'  Fortunately it still retains its three
most distinctive features, the banqueting-hall, the guard-room, and the
chapel, with some few relics of the many outbuildings for the use of
its owner's retainers, and those of his guests, that once covered a
vast area.  In spite of all its manifest advantages, however, it was
never a favourite residence of the archbishops, who, though many of
them spent large sums upon it, are said to have complained constantly
of its unhealthy situation.  Henry VIII., too, often spoke of it in a
disparaging way, and Lord Bacon once declared it to be 'a very obscure
and dark place.'

Of the existing buildings the oldest is the guard-chamber, with a fine
stone ribbed roof and a beautiful oriel window, a true gem of Gothic
architecture.  Built between 1396 and 1415 by Archbishop Arundel--who
is chiefly remembered for his devotion to Henry Bolingbroke, at whose
coronation as Henry IV. he officiated in 1399, and for his bitter
hostility to the Lollards--the guard-chamber was the scene, in 1587, of
the stately ceremony when {150} Queen Elizabeth gave to Sir Christopher
Hatton the seals of office of Lord Chancellor of England, that dignity
having been refused by the then reigning Archbishop Whitgift, whose
memory is held in high honour at Croydon as the founder of the famous
hospital and other charities bearing his name.

Of somewhat later date than the guard-chamber, for it was built by
Archbishop Stafford between 1443 and 1452, and restored in the
seventeenth century by Archbishops Laud and Juxon, the great hall is
still, in spite of much defacement, a noble structure, with a fine
timber roof and a beautiful late Gothic porch.  It is associated with
many important historic memories, for in it, when in residence at
Croydon, the archbishops held their court, receiving visits from the
reigning sovereign and the great nobles and statesmen.  It was there
that Archbishop Cranmer, in 1553, condemned the heretic John Firth to
the stake, at which he was himself to suffer three short years
afterwards; there that Queen Mary, with Cardinal Reginald Pole as her
adviser, presided over her first council after her beloved husband had
left her and she had realised how hopeless was the task of winning his
affections; and there her successor, Elizabeth, gave frequent audience
to Archbishop Parker, whom she had made primate soon after her
accession, and whom she sorely embarrassed by expecting him to give her
and her whole court hospitality for several days at a time.  In the
great hall at Croydon, too, the virgin queen received the French
ambassador after the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, taking his
breath away by {151} introducing him to his fellow-guests as the man
who had plotted to bring about her own death; and it was there,
perhaps, that the doomed Archbishop Laud penned much of the journal
that reveals the secret springs of his severely criticised actions.

To Croydon, after the see of Canterbury had been vacant for fifteen
years, came the newly appointed Archbishop William Juxon, the faithful
friend who had ministered to Charles I. to the bitter end, in spite of
the contempt the ill-fated monarch had shown for his wise counsels; and
later the palace was tenanted for a few weeks at a time by Archbishop
Sheldon, builder of the theatre named after him at Oxford, and by his
successors: Sancroft, suspended in 1689 for his refusal to take the
oath of allegiance to William and Mary; Tillotson, the famous preacher
who attended Lord Russell on the scaffold; Tenison, Herring, Hutton,
and Dr. Cornwallis; none of whom, except Archbishop Herring, who wrote
of it in loving terms, showed any affection for their Surrey home.

The chapel of Croydon Palace, built under Archbishops Laud and Juxon
between 1633 and 1663, occupies the site of a much earlier place of
worship that is often referred to in ecclesiastical records.  No trace
of it, however, remains, and its successor has suffered much in the
various vicissitudes through which it has passed.  It was divided from
the see of Canterbury in 1780, and secularised in 1807, after which it
served for some time as an armoury for the local militia, and was put
to other even less dignified usages.  In 1887 it was bought, with the
{152} banqueting-hall, by the Duke of Newcastle, who presented both to
the sisters of the Church Extension Society, and it is now an orphanage
under the care of the Kilburn sisters.

The Saxon church of Croydon, or Croidene, as it was then spelt,
referred to in the Doomsday Survey--whose priest, Ælffic by name, was
one of the witnesses to a will still extant dated 960--probably rose,
as did its Norman successor, from an islet in the midst of the
head-waters of the Wandle, which united to form that tributary of the
Thames in what was known as My Lord's or Laud's Pond in the palace
grounds.  Near to this church were a great water-mill and a huge dam,
but this was not the mill of Doomsday Book, all trace of which is lost.
The huts of the original settlement, of which a few interesting relics
were discovered when the excavations were made for the railway,
probably extended from the church in the direction of Beddington, but
those that formed the nucleus of the new town, and were chiefly
occupied by charcoal-burners, were grouped near the church on the
Haling side.  Until the completion in 1850 of the admirable modern
system of drainage, the whole of the now healthy district of Croydon
was frequently flooded, and for several centuries the inundations were
looked upon as supernatural visitations that could not be averted, but
were tokens of impending evil or good fortune.  References to this
strange belief are of frequent occurrence in the contemporary press,
the seventeenth-century antiquary John Aubrey, to quote but one {153}
case in point, writing: 'Between this place (Caterham) and Coulsdon ...
issues out sometimes a bourne which overflows and runs down to Croydon.
This is held by the inhabitants to be ominous, and prognosticating
something remarkable approaching, as it did before the happy
restoration of Charles II. in 1660; also before the Plague of London in
1665.'

The walls of the church in which the priest Ælffic officiated were
skilfully incorporated in the Gothic building that was begun in 1382,
completed in 1442, and well restored in the sixteenth century; but
unfortunately the latter, with the exception of the Norman walls and
Early English tower, was destroyed by fire in 1869.  A new building,
however, soon rose out of the ruins of its predecessor, in which these
two distinctive features were skilfully retained, and the lines of the
ancient fabric were followed; but, strange to say, little attention was
given to the old monuments, amongst which those to Archbishops Grindal,
Whitgift, and Sheldon were the most remarkable, all of which were
seriously damaged by the fire, which also destroyed several interesting
epitaphs and some quaint frescoes that were discovered in 1845 beneath
the whitewash disfiguring the walls.

The only other building of note in modern Croydon is the Whitgift
Hospital, erected between 1596 and 1599 by the archbishop after whom it
is named, for the reception of twenty-two old men and sixteen old
women, and for the education of twenty poor children, ten boys and ten
girls, who were under the care of a warden and schoolmaster, the latter
also {154} acting as chaplain.  Well restored in 1860, and supplemented
later by a modern college that receives as many as three hundred boys
at a time, the actual hospital still presents very much the appearance
it did during its founder's lifetime, and is a good example of
Elizabethan architecture.  In its hall, a spacious apartment with some
fine stained glass, is preserved a black-letter Bible, said to have
been given to the school by Queen Elizabeth; and in the room known as
the treasury above the entrance-gate are several valuable MSS.,
including the letters-patent granted to Whitgift.

[Illustration: THE WANDLE NEAR CARSHALTON]

[Sidenote: Carshalton]

To the extensive parish of Croydon belong a number of outlying villages
that were not long ago picturesque riverside hamlets, but are now
rapidly developing into populous suburbs, with little to distinguish
them from each other.  There is still, however, a certain rural charm
about Waddon, with its ancient mill, and Beddington, with its
well-restored fourteenth-century church, in which are some interesting
monuments to the Carews, retains something of the dignity that
characterised it when its hall was the seat of that famous family.  The
history of Beddington can be traced back to Roman times, for near to it
have been found the remains of a villa and foundry, with other relics
left behind them by the conquerors from Italy; its manor is referred to
in Doomsday Book as owning a church and two mills, and it was the
property in the early fourteenth century of Sir Nicholas Carew.
Forfeited in the reign of Henry VIII. by another Sir Nicholas, who was
beheaded in 1539 for his {155} supposed share in the Cardinal Pole
conspiracy, it was restored to his son by Queen Elizabeth, who was
often the guest of the new owner.  The manor-house was either rebuilt
or added to for her reception, and is said to have been a grand example
of the architecture of the time, but it was unfortunately pulled down
in 1709, with the exception of the great hall that was preserved in its
successor, and now forms the nucleus of an orphanage for girls that was
completed in 1866, its site, with the still existing buildings of the
Carew mansion and twenty-two acres of its grounds, having been bought
by the corporation of that institution in 1857.  Not far from
Beddington is the still pretty village of Wallington, famous for the
beautiful gardens laid out in the low-lying meadows in which it is
situated by the enthusiastic botanist Alfred Smee; and adjoining it is
the more important Carshalton, that, in spite of much building in the
neighbourhood, retains several picturesque features, notably one or two
old mills on the Wandle.  Known before the Conquest as Oulton, or the
Old Town, a name implying great antiquity, Carshalton is supposed to
have received the prefix now distinguishing it because of its position
on cross-roads.  In the Doomsday Survey no less than five manors are
mentioned as included in Oulton that were later consolidated into one,
and were owned until the time of Stephen by the powerful De Mandeville
family.  Confiscated then because of its owner's devotion to the cause
of the Empress Maud, it has since changed hands many times, and of the
ancient manor-house, {156} associated with many memories of Norman
times, not a trace now remains.  To atone for this, however, in
Carshalton Park--soon, alas! to be built over--is a fine
eighteenth-century mansion, now a Roman Catholic convent, in which long
lived the great lawyer Lord Hardwicke, replacing a much earlier
building that was for some years the home of Dr. Ratcliffe, founder of
the library at Oxford bearing his name.  Another interesting old house
in Carshalton is Stone Court, now the rectory, that once formed part of
a much larger mansion, pulled down in 1800, that belonged at one time
to Nicholas Gwynesford, Sheriff of Surrey in the reigns of Henry VI.,
Edward IV., and Henry VII., and who was also Esquire of the Body to the
two latter monarchs.

[Illustration: CARSHALTON POND]

The church of Carshalton was founded in the fourteenth century, but
with the exception of the lower part of the tower, it has been entirely
rebuilt.  It contains, however, a very fine fifteenth-century brass to
the memory of Thomas Ellymbridge, a servitor of Cardinal Morton, and
several interesting old monuments, including one to the Nicholas
Gwynesford mentioned above, and one to Sir William Scawen, the devoted
friend of William III., who owned Stone Court from 1729 to his death.
Close to the churchyard is another relic of the long-ago, a railed-in
and arched-over spring, known as Queen Anne Boleyn's well, because of a
tradition that its water suddenly gushed forth beneath the feet of her
horse as she was riding with her husband from Nonsuch Palace to
Beddington, a legend not borne {157} out by historical fact, for the
palace was not begun until three years after Henry VIII.'s second wife
was beheaded.  Probably the spring was in use long before the sixteenth
century, as it is but one of several feeders of the Wandle that flows
through Beddington, widening in the centre of the old village into a
pond, that is referred to by Ruskin in the _Crown of Wild Olives_, near
to which there used to be several picturesque old inns that were much
frequented in coaching days by Londoners on their way to and from Epsom
races.

[Sidenote: Sutton]

Some three miles from Carshalton, on the edge of the undulating downs,
that under different names extend for many miles on every side, is the
now populous town of Sutton, the last halting-place on the way to the
world-famous racecourse, that still owns the ancient though modernised
Cock Inn that is associated with so many memories, and the approaches
to which are still crowded with vehicles of every variety during the
race-weeks.  The property in Saxon days of Chertsey Abbey, Sutton, has
a long and well-authenticated history.  Its manor remained in the hands
of the monks until 1538, when it was given with those of Epsom,
Coulsden, and Horley to Sir Nicholas Carew, who, as related above,
already owned the neighbouring Beddington.  Since then it has changed
hands many times; in 1845 it was bought by a certain Thomas Alcock, who
was in a great measure responsible for the conversion of a secluded
hamlet, deserted by all but the resident farmers and their dependants,
into a busy and prosperous suburb.

{158}

Two still beautiful though rapidly growing villages, within easy reach
of Sutton, are Cheam and Ewell, both of which were long in close touch
with the famous Nonsuch Palace, part of the site of which is now
occupied by a nineteenth-century castellated mansion in the Elizabethan
style, the only relics of its predecessor being the foundations of the
banqueting-hall, that still remain in an orchard, near the long avenue
of trees leading up to the entrance of the new house, that was once
part of the now built over park.

The village of Cheam, situated on high ground commanding a fine view of
the Downs, clusters about a modern church with a good spire, close to
which is preserved the chancel of a much more ancient place of worship,
containing some interesting monuments, including one to Lord John
Lumley, the famous book collector, whose library was bought by James I.
on the death of its owner in 1609, and is now in the British Museum,
whilst in the care of the rector of Cheam parish are some exceptionally
fine brasses, that were removed to preserve them from injury when the
old church was destroyed.

[Illustration: THE COCK INN, SUTTON]

The manor of Cheam belonged at the Conquest to the see of Canterbury,
but it was divided somewhat later into two parts by Archbishop
Lanfranc, who retained the eastern half himself, giving the western to
the abbot of Canterbury Monastery.  Both were, however, confiscated by
Henry VIII., and granted by Queen Elizabeth to Lord John Lumley, who
held them till his death, when they {159} passed to his nephew, Henry
Lloyd.  The two old manor-houses were pulled down in the eighteenth
century, but one of them is represented by a modern residence, known as
Lower Cheam House.  More interesting, however, is, or rather was until
quite recently, the early Tudor homestead, bearing the name of
Whitehall, containing a room called the council-chamber, because Queen
Elizabeth is said to have once presided in it over her council when she
was resident at Nonsuch Palace, which, according to local tradition,
was connected with Cheam by an underground passage that had an entrance
from a cellar beneath Whitehall.  In this cellar, that probably served
as a larder, the persecuted Protestants used to meet for worship in the
reign of Queen Mary, and later, by a strange irony of fate, it was
turned to account for the same purpose by the Roman Catholics of the
neighbourhood.

[Sidenote: Ewell]

Ewell, the name of which is a corruption of the Saxon Ætwelle,
signifying the village on the well, so called because it is close to
the springs forming the source of a stream known as the Hogsmill, that
joins the Thames at Kingston, was but a short time ago a secluded
village, but is now rapidly growing into a popular suburb.
Unfortunately its characteristic old market-hall has been pulled down,
and of the ancient church the tower alone remains, but in its modern
successor are preserved several old monuments, tablets, and brasses
commemorating residents of days gone by, and in the churchyard are some
ancient tombs with curious {160} inscriptions.  [Sidenote: Nonsuch
Palace]  Ewell, however, owes its chief distinction to its nearness to
the site of Nonsuch Palace, and the whole surrounding district is full
of memories connected with the Tudor sovereigns.  Situated in the still
sparsely populated parish of Cuddington, that owned a manor-house and
church at the time of the Doomsday Survey, the history of which can be
traced down to the sixteenth century, the property was acquired in 1539
by Henry VIII., who added it to his Hampton Court estate.  With his
usual reckless lavishness he resolved to clear away all the existing
buildings to make room for a palace that should excel all his other
residences.  He enclosed sixteen hundred acres as pleasure grounds, and
brought down from London a whole army of architects and workmen, under
whose auspices quickly rose up a truly beautiful structure, to which
the name of Nonsuch was given, because, said its proud owner, it had no
equal.  It was not quite completed when Henry's career was cut short by
death, and his son, Edward VI., seems to have cared nothing for it.  He
simply handed it over to the care of the then Master of the Revels, Sir
Thomas Carwardine, who evidently appreciated it greatly, for the story
goes that when Queen Mary came to the throne and instructed him to
vacate her palace at Nonsuch, he at first refused to leave it.  Indeed,
he remained till the royal retainers arrived, and many unseemly
quarrels took place between them and their servants about trivial
details such as the division of the produce of the royal gardens.
There were armed encounters in the park {161} before her majesty took
over the custody of the property, to which, however, she was really as
indifferent as her brother had been.  She actually decided that the
best way to save herself from further trouble connected with it would
be to pull down the palace and sell the materials.  It was saved from
this untimely fate only through the generosity of the Earl of Arundel,
who for love of his former master, who had taken such pride in it,
persuaded the queen to exchange it for certain fair lands in his
possession elsewhere.  The transfer having been duly arranged, the new
owner, as related by his biographer Lyons, proceeded 'fully to finish
the house in building, reparations, pavements, and gardens in as
complete and perfect sort as by the first intent and meaning of the
King.'  In it, thirty years after the first stone was laid, the Earl of
Arundel entertained Queen Elizabeth and her court for a week,
presenting her before she left with a costly set of plate.  So greatly,
indeed, did the maiden queen enjoy herself at Nonsuch that she longed
to become its owner, and when a few years later it passed from the
possession of her host to that of his son-in-law, Lord Lumley, she made
overtures to the latter for its purchase, which had, of course, the
force of a command.  During the rest of her life Elizabeth was often at
the palace, and from it many important state papers, and even more
interesting private letters, were dated.  It was there that took place
the remarkable interview with her disgraced favourite, the Earl of
Essex, after his return from Holland on Michaelmas Eve 1599, that {162}
is so vividly described by Rowland Whyte in an oft-quoted letter to Sir
Robert Sydney, in which he says: 'At about ten o'clock in the morning
my Lord of Essex lighted at Court Gate in post, and made all hast up to
the Presence, and so to the Privy Chamber, and stayed not till he came
to the Queen's Bedchamber, where he found the Queen all newly up, the
hair about her face; he kneeled unto her, kissed her hands, and had
some private speech with her, which seemed to give him great
contentment for coming from her Majesty to go shift himself in his
chamber, he was very pleasant, and thanked God, though he had suffered
much trouble amid storms abroad, he found a sweet calm at home.  'Tis
much wondered at here,' comments the writer, 'that he went so boldly to
her Majesty's presence, she not being ready, and he so full of dirt and
mire, that his face was full of it.'  It was this very boldness, as
Essex knew full well, that was his one chance with his angry mistress,
but this time it did not serve him long.  The memory was still fresh
with them both of the bitter quarrel six months before, when Elizabeth,
stung to the quick by his insolent assertion that 'her conditions were
as crooked as her carcase,' had boxed his ears and told him to go and
be hanged, and on the very night of his arrival at Nonsuch, after the
apparent reconciliation, the earl was ordered to consider himself a
prisoner.  A few days later he left the palace in custody, and the next
year he was beheaded in the Tower, all the appeals he had addressed to
the woman, to whom, in spite of all his plots against {163} her, he
pretended to the last to have been devoted, having been in vain.

On the death of Queen Elizabeth James I. gave Nonsuch Palace to his
consort, Queen Anne, and later Charles I. and Henrietta Maria were
often there, but its days of glory were already over.  It was
confiscated by Parliament after the death of the king, but restored to
the Crown on the accession of Charles II., who, when his widowed mother
had passed away, gave it and the park in which it stood to his
mistress, Lady Castlemaine, whom a little later he made Duchess of
Cleveland.  She, alas, valued not at all the memories of the historic
building, but as soon as it was legally secured to her, she had it
pulled down, let out much of the park in plots for building, and sold
the deer that used to wander about in it.  Thus suddenly ended the
brief career of Henry VIII's dream palace, that is but poorly
represented by its successor, a building erected in the early
nineteenth century after the designs of the then popular architect, Sir
Jeffrey Wyattville.  Part of the once beautiful park is now occupied by
the suburb of Worcester, but the grounds immediately surrounding the
new residence, through which there is a public footpath to Cheam and
Ewell, still retain much of their original charm, and some of the older
trees may possibly have been amongst those beneath which Queen
Elizabeth delighted to walk.

[Sidenote: Epsom]

Although it can scarcely, strictly speaking, be said to form a part of
outlying London, the town of Epsom is so intimately associated with the
{164} metropolis, to which it has from first to last owed its
prosperity, that an account of it may well be included in a book
dealing as much with the memories of the past as with the attractions
of the present.  Its history can be traced back to the seventh century,
when it is said to have been the residence of the holy abbess, St.
Ebba, after whom it is named, the daughter of King Ethelred the
Avenger, and sister of Kings Oswald and Oswy, whose story is very
variously told, certain chroniclers declaring that she suffered
martyrdom at the hands of the Danes after disfiguring herself to escape
a worse fate; others that she died peacefully at a great age,
surrounded by her devoted nuns.  However that may be, no trace now
remains of the home of St. Ebba at Epsom, though some are of opinion
that its site is occupied by the farm now known as the Court, replacing
the manor-house that is referred to in the Doomsday Survey as an
appanage of Chertsey Abbey, which also owned in the same district the
manor of Horton, the homestead of which is now represented by an
eighteenth-century mansion called Horton Place, two churches and two
mills, with many acres of land.  To these a park, now known as that of
Woodcote, with 'right of free chase and free warren,' was added in the
twelfth century, the whole property remaining in the hands of the abbot
of Chertsey until 1538, when it was bought from him by Henry VIII.,
who, strange to say, actually paid for it.  A few months afterwards it
was given to Sir Nicholas Carew, who already owned so much real {165}
estate in Surrey, and on his execution for treason in 1539 it reverted
to the Crown.  In 1589 it was bestowed by Queen Elizabeth on Edward
D'Arcy, one of the Grooms of the Chamber, passing after his death
through many different hands, at one time being owned by Mrs. Richard
Evelyn, sister-in-law of the famous diarist.

For many centuries Epsom remained a secluded hamlet scarcely known to
any one but the owners of the great houses in the neighbourhood, who
delighted in its charming situation at the edge of the breezy Banstead
Downs.  The discovery early in the seventeenth century, however, of
medicinal springs on the adjacent common inaugurated a complete change,
and Epsom Spa soon became a formidable rival to Tunbridge Wells and
Hampstead as a favourite resort of the _beau monde_ of the capital, who
flocked to it in crowds to drink its waters and amuse themselves.  In
that entertaining storehouse of local information _The Worthies of
England_, published in 1662, the Rev. Thomas Fuller gives a very
graphic description of the finding of the springs at Epsom in 1618:
'One Henry Wicker,' he says, 'in a dry summer and great want of water
for cattle, discovered in the concave of a horse or neat's footing some
water standing ... with his pad staff he did dig a square hole about it
and so departed.  Returning the next day, with some difficulty he
discovered the same place, and found the hole running over with most
clear water.  Yet,' he adds, 'the cattle, though tempted with thirst,
would not drink {166} thereof, it having a mineral taste therin.'  He
then relates the gradual growth in popularity of the spring thus
accidentally discovered, but he himself evidently had his doubts as to
the real efficacy of the waters, for he remarks that he does not wonder
the citizens coming to Epsom from the 'worst of smokes into the best of
airs find in themselves a perfective alteration.'

In 1621 the lord of the manor had a fence put round the well and a
rough shelter erected for the use of those who came to drink from it;
but in spite of many efforts made by those interested in advertising
its merits Epsom did not become really fashionable for another forty
years, probably because the people of London were too much occupied by
the political troubles of the day to be able to give much attention to
other things.  Soon after the Restoration however, the golden age of
the Banstead Wells began: a great hall for balls and other
entertainments, houses, inns, and shops sprang up as if by magic:
regular services of coaches were established between London and the
rapidly growing town on the downs; and all through the summer the
approaches to the latter were crowded with the equipages of those in
search of health or pleasure.  Charles II. was very fond of going to
Epsom with his court, and one special occasion was long remembered when
he was accompanied by his consort Caroline of Braganza, his mistress,
Lady Castlemaine, and his illegitimate son, the future Duke of
Monmouth, then a handsome boy of twelve years old, who was born the
very year of his grandfather's {167} death on the scaffold.  The
neglected queen, it is said, looked really beautiful for once, but for
all that she was quite eclipsed by her rival in her husband's
affections, who was triumphantly lovely.  The king won all hearts by
his gracious manner, and it was indeed impossible to help sympathising
with him in his evident delight in the noble child, who kept close to
him all day, and would have been a noble heir to the throne.

The popularity of Epsom was maintained throughout the whole of the
seventeenth century, as proved by many references to its attractions in
the contemporary press.  John Toland, for instance, in a work published
in the reign of Queen Anne, speaks of it as 'an enchanted camp ...
where,' he quaintly observes, 'the rude, the sullen, the noisy, the
affected, the peevish, the covetous, the litigious, the sharping, the
proud, the prodigal, the impatient, and the impertinent become visible
foils to the well-bred, prudent, modest, and good-humoured.'  In the
early years of the reign of George III., however, the efficacy of the
Banstead waters began to be doubted, and changing fashions resulted in
the abandonment of Epsom by the _beau monde_.  All efforts to revive
interest in the once beloved resort were unavailing, and though the
mineral spring still exists in a private garden, its existence was soon
practically forgotten.  By a strange turn of the wheel of fortune,
however, what the fickle goddess took away with one hand she gave back
with the other, for thanks to Banstead Downs being the scene of what is
looked upon as a national {168} event, the running of the annual races
known as the Derby and the Oaks, Epsom has long occupied a more
important position than it did even in the eighteenth century.

[Sidenote: Epsom Races]

According to local tradition James I., when resident at Nonsuch Palace,
was the first to introduce horse-racing on the downs, but the earliest
competitions referred to in the contemporary press were apparently
between men, not horses.  Pepys, writing as late as 1663, describes a
foot-race between Lee, the Duke of Richmond's footman, and a certain
Tyler, a famous runner.  That horse-racing was practised in the reign
of Charles I. is however, proved by the fact that in 1648 a meeting was
held by the Royalists on Banstead Downs under pretence of looking on at
it, on which occasion, as related by Clarendon in his _History of the
Rebellion_, '600 horses were collected and sent to Reigate for the use
of the King's adherents.'

Writing five years later, the dramatist Thomas Heywood says, 'Epsom is
a place of great resort and commonly upon the market days all the
countrye gentlemen appoint a friendly meeting ... to match their
horses.'  Charles II. was as fond of watching the racing as of
attending the festivities at the spa, and it is generally supposed that
it was his patronage that enabled Banstead to rival Newmarket in
popular favour.  However that may be, before the end of the eighteenth
century the fame of the Epsom races had spread throughout the length
and breadth of England, and advertisements {169} of the principal
events appeared in all the principal newspapers of the day.  In an
August number of the _London Gazette_ for 1698, for instance, it is
announced that the Banstead Downs Plate of £20 value will be run for on
the 24th inst., being St. Bartholomew's Day; and the information is
added that any horse may run for the said plate that shall be at
Carshalton and certain other places specified, fourteen days before the
Plate Day.  Before many years of the eighteenth century had passed by
Epsom had become practically the capital of the racing world, but the
famous Derby and Oak Stakes were not instituted until 1779 and 1780.
Both were founded by the then Earl of Derby, and were named, the former
after him, the latter after his seat at Woodmansterne, a picturesque
little village on the highest point of the Banstead Downs.  As is well
known, the May meeting, which lasts from the Tuesday to the Friday
before Whitsuntide, during which these two great races are run, is the
chief event of the racing year, and Derby Day is looked upon as a
national festival, even members of Parliament taking a holiday in order
to be present at the great event.  A vast concourse of people assembles
on the downs, and the scenes witnessed there and on the road to and
from Epsom, that have been again and again eloquently described in
poetry and prose, are without a parallel elsewhere.  Scarcely less
popular is the Oaks, often called the Ladies' Race, when only
filly-foals are allowed to run, and the fair sex is always much in
evidence among the spectators, but the {170} excitement is generally
less than on the Derby Day.  The grand-stand of Epsom, the finest in
England, commands a magnificent prospect, extending across the
beautiful undulating downs beyond Windsor Castle on one side and London
on the other.  There are, moreover, many other fine points of view from
the higher portions of the common, and the town itself, though deserted
by all but its comparatively few residents except in race week, retains
even now a certain picturesque appearance, with its clock tower rising
up in the main street.  The once much frequented assembly-rooms are now
divided up into shops, and of the ancient church, in which the
aristocratic drinkers of the waters used to worship, the tower alone
remains.  There are, however, several well-preserved eighteenth-century
mansions in the neighbourhood, including Woodcote House, in which is a
room with a ceiling painted by Verrio, and Pitt Place, in which Thomas,
the second Lord Lyttelton, died suddenly on November 27, 1779, at the
very time, it is popularly believed, predicted by the ghost of a girl
he had wronged, who appeared to him as he was going to rest three days
before the end.

[Sidenote: Banstead]

The village of Banstead, that gives its name to the famous downs, and
is associated with the memory of Hubert de Burgh, is finely situated
536 feet above the sea-level and commands a view even finer than that
from the grand-stand on the racecourse.  Its history can be traced back
to Norman times, but it retains scarcely any relics of the past, its
{171} ancient church having been almost entirely rebuilt and most of
its old houses pulled down.  It is, however, in touch with much
charming scenery, and from it may be reached many beautiful hamlets
still far beyond the furthermost limits of outlying London.



{172}

CHAPTER VIII

  WANDSWORTH, PUTNEY, BARNES, AND OTHER
  SOUTHERN SUBURBS

A century ago a charming little hamlet, traversed by the limpid stream
of the Wandle, after which it is named, and surrounded on every side by
breezy undulating commons, the thriving, bustling, and, in its poorer
quarters, somewhat squalid town of Wandsworth has now little that is
attractive about it except two or three ancient mills which, with the
tawny-sailed barges, generally grouped at the mouth of the river that
here joins the Thames, present a really picturesque appearance.  There
is, moreover, something dignified about the massive eighteenth-century
church of All Saints in the modern High Street, and it contains several
interesting monuments, notably one to Alderman Smith, a native of
Wandsworth, whose memory, though he passed away as long ago as 1627, is
still held dear in the neighbourhood, for he bequeathed large sums of
money for the relief of the poor, and also for giving them work,
proving his recognition of the importance of the problem of the
unemployed, which {173} public-spirited philanthropists had evidently
much at heart even at that early date.

Wandsworth is unfortunately associated with but few important historic
memories, but towards the end of the seventeenth century many French
Protestants, who had fled to England after the massacre of St.
Bartholomew's Eve, took refuge in it, and in the Huguenots' cemetery,
just outside the town on the way to Clapham, are several tombstones
marking their burial-places.  Later, the exiled Voltaire was for three
years the guest at Wandsworth, in a mansion now destroyed, of Sir
Everard Fawkener; and the famous novelist, George Eliot, lived for some
time in a house in Southfields, still distinguished by a vine growing
on it planted by her.

In 1792 was founded in the neighbouring hamlet of Garratt, now absorbed
in Wandsworth, the club for checking encroachments on the common, that
for several years enjoyed some little fame through the addresses of the
candidates for election having been written by the witty dramatist,
Samuel Foote, who made the Mayor of Garratt the hero of a popular
comedy, the great actor, David Garrick, and the versatile patriot, John
Wilkes.  Through the instrumentality of this gifted trio a purely local
question was turned to account to bring forcibly before the public the
abuses that attended the election of members of Parliament, but
unfortunately the Garratt ceremony degenerated by degrees into an
occasion for mob meetings characterised by riotous behaviour, the
candidates being chosen, not on account of their fitness for the
dignity to be {174} conferred on them, but for some accidental reason,
such as a personal deformity or a caustic wit.  The rowdy scenes that
took place at these mock elections were immortalised in a series of
clever etchings by the celebrated mezzotint engraver, Valentine Green,
and the names of Sir John Harper, Sir Jeffrey Dunstan, and Sir Harry
Dunstable, none of whom had any right to the titles they assumed, are
still remembered as 'mayors' who successively held office.  In 1796 the
elections were suppressed, and the Garratt Club ceased to exist, but
early in the nineteenth century the work it had inaugurated was
completed by the purchase for the public of all that was still left of
the once vast Wandsworth Common.

[Sidenote: Putney]

Though it has grown during the last fifty years as rapidly as
Wandsworth, the adjacent suburb of Putney, thanks to its fine situation
on the main stream of the Thames, has retained a distinction that is
wanting to its neighbour on the Wandle.  It is, moreover, in close
touch with much beautiful scenery, and is associated with the names of
many men who have left their mark in history and in literature.  True,
the ancient church, supposed to have been founded early in the
fourteenth century, in which, according to tradition, Cromwell and his
generals several times met to hold council during the Civil War, was,
with the exception of the tower, replaced by a modern building in 1836;
many a noble riverside mansion has been pulled down; and the quaint old
wooden bridge, on which the tolls were long levied by collectors
wearing blue cloth costumes and armed with copper-headed staves, {175}
was improved away in 1886 when the present solid structure was
completed, but the view across the river to Fulham, and up and down
stream, remains full of charm.  The grand water highway that has
witnessed so many historic pageants is alive, for the greater part of
the year, with a great variety of picturesque crafts, and the
towing-path on the Surrey side is the scene of constant activity in the
spring and summer, for Putney is still the headquarters of boating men,
and it has for a long spell of years been the starting-point of the
world-famous Oxford and Cambridge boat-race witnessed by thousands of
spectators, whilst in 1906 took place, over the same course, the
contest between the Cambridge and Harvard crews that excited, if
possible, an even greater amount of interest.

[Illustration: PUTNEY REACH]

At a very early date Putney was included in the manor of Wimbledon, and
is referred to in the Doomsday Survey as Putenhei, a name supposed to
mean the landing-place, that was changed to Puttenheth before it was
contracted into its present form.  A local tradition, however, explains
the word Putney in another and somewhat amusing fashion.  The original
parish churches of Fulham and Putney, that greatly resembled each
other, were, it is related, built with their own hands by two sisters
who had but one set of tools between them.  They therefore took it in
turns to use them, flinging them across the river to each other, the
Fulham builder crying out, for instance, when she wanted the hammer, to
heave it full home, the Putney one, when her turn came, shouting--'Put
it nigh.'  Whatever explanation of {176} its name be adopted it seems
certain that even before the Conquest the hamlet of Putenhei was a
place of some little importance, for the last of the Saxon kings had a
fishery there, and also owned the ferry that existed long before the
erection of the wooden bridge alluded to above, and was valued at 20s.
a year.  Harold's immediate successor as holder of the property was
Archbishop Lanfranc of Canterbury, who paid no toll for crossing the
river, but later it became customary for the lord of the manor to exact
the payment of several salmon from the lessee of the fishery for the
right of landing the spoil of the river on the Putney side, and up to
the middle of the seventeenth century the three best salmon in every
haul taken in March, April, and May were delivered at the manor-house
of Wimbledon.  About 1786, however, a money payment was substituted for
value in kind, the amount varying from six to eight pounds per season
until 1786, when for some unexplained reason, probably because of the
decrease in the amount of fish taken, the landlord waived his right to
tolls of any kind.  For another thirty years, however, it was
compulsory to present to the Lord Mayor of London all sturgeons or
porpoises caught, the fishermen receiving one guinea for each of the
former and thirteen shillings for each of the latter.

The Putenhei ferry continued to yield what was then considered a
considerable revenue for many centuries, and a fine of 2s. 6d. was
inflicted on any waterman who failed to exact a halfpenny from every
stranger and a farthing from every inhabitant of Putney who availed
himself of his services.  In {177} 1611 two delinquents, one hailing
from Fulham, the other from Kingston, were summoned for carrying across
divers persons at and near Kingston and Putney against the custom, and
to the annoyance and prejudice of the owners of the common ferry, 'and
having pleaded guilty and expressed contrition, they were, very much to
their own surprise, let off with a reprimand.'

In 1727 the last owners of the ferry, Dr. Pethward and William Skelton,
sold their rights to the custodians of the new bridge for £7999, 19s.
11d., the latter giving a further sum to the lady of the manor, the
Duchess of Marlborough, for her share in the property, and £23 to the
then Bishop of London, who, in virtue of his office, enjoyed the
privilege of free passage of the river.  Long before the eighteenth
century, however, the need of some safer mode of transit was felt, for
as traffic increased many accidents took place, through the upsetting
of the ferry barges, collisions, etc.  About 1629, for instance, Bishop
Laud, lately appointed to the see of London, was nearly drowned with
his whole suite when on his way one dark evening from Putney to his
palace at Fulham, and for this reason he strongly advocated the
building of a bridge, but more pressing affairs prevented him from
taking any definite steps in the matter.  When in 1642 the twin
villages of Putney and Fulham were for the first time united by the
temporary bridge of boats thrown across the river, after the battle of
Brentford, by the Earl of Essex, Laud had left his palace at Fulham for
the last time, for he was in the Tower awaiting the {178} issue of his
protracted trial.  One of the forts that protected the linked lighters
and barges, by means of which the defeated Parliamentary army passed
over from Middlesex to Surrey, eager to retrieve the disaster at
Brentford, is still standing, about five hundred yards below the
present bridge, but the connection between the two banks was of course
destroyed as soon as it had served its purpose, and it was not until
1871 that a bill was brought before Parliament for building a bridge to
replace the ancient Putenhei ferry.  It was, however, rejected by
thirteen votes, and the reasons given for their opposition by the
dissentients throw a singular light on the ignorance and prejudice of
men sufficiently well educated to have secured election to the national
assembly.  The member for London, for instance, declared that 'a bridge
so far up stream would not only injure and jeopardise the great and
important city he had the honour to represent, and destroy its
commerce, but would actually annihilate it altogether,' adding 'not
even common wherries would be able to pass the river at low water, and
would not only affect the interests of his majesty's government, but
those of the nation at large.'  This remarkable opinion was endorsed by
the Lord Mayor of London, who believed 'that the piles of a bridge
would stop the tide altogether,' and by Sir William Thompson, a truly
typical Conservative, who went so far as to assert that if the bridge
were built quicksands and shelves would be created through the whole
course of the river ... and not a ship would be able to get nearer
London than Woolwich.  The limits of {179} London,' he added, 'were set
by the wisdom of our ancestors, and God forbid they should ever be
altered.'  This remarkable speech was delivered at a time when the
rebuilding of the metropolis, after the Great Fire, was actively
proceeding, and the most casual observer could not fail to realise how
utterly inadequate to avert a catastrophe had been the wisdom of those
who had set limits respected neither by the powers of nature nor by
man.  The city was indeed at that very time in the throes of a new
birth; its old boundaries had been swept away, and out of the ashes of
the picturesque but plague-haunted town of the past was rising up a new
capital that was ere long to send forth outshoots in every direction,
and eventually to absorb not only reluctant Putney, but many hamlets
and villages even further afield than it.

Another fifty years were to pass away before the bridge between Putney
and Fulham was actually built, and according to tradition it was George
II., when Prince of Wales, who brought about what was then considered
an extraordinary innovation, impelled thereto by the inconvenience to
which he was put when hunting in the Surrey forests an incidental
illustration of the great change that has taken place since the sites
of Putney, Wimbledon, Barnes, and Richmond were the haunts of wild
animals that used to go down to the river to drink, and if sorely
pressed in the chase, were able to swim over to the further side.  Sir
Robert Walpole, father of the more celebrated Horace, was entrusted
with the onerous task of carrying {180} a bill through Parliament
authorising the construction of the bridge, which was begun in 1727 and
completed in 1729.  It very quickly justified the predictions of its
promoters, for in 1731 the revenue yielded by the tolls amounted to
£1500 a year, a sum that was nearly doubled by the beginning of the
nineteenth century.  The tolls were not remitted until 1880, by which
time the bridge was already in so lamentable a state of decay that it
had to be pulled down.  It was replaced by the present structure,
which, though it cannot be called a work of art, has nothing unsightly
about it, a commendation that cannot, unfortunately, be extended to the
aqueduct of the Chelsea Waterworks that spans the stream a little
higher up, and has done more to spoil the picturesque appearance of
Fulham and Putney than anything else.

Connected with the parish church of Putney, which, as already stated,
was rebuilt in 1836, is a gem of early sixteenth-century architecture,
a little chapel with a beautiful fan tracery roof, built by Bishop West
of Ely, who was the son of a baker of Putney, and greatly loved his
native place.  The chapel originally stood on the south of the chancel,
but when the restoration of the main building took place it was
carefully removed to its present position, and is still practically
what it was when first completed, though the ancient window-frames have
been filled in with modern stained glass.  Unfortunately, some of the
quaint monuments that were in the old church have been destroyed, but
its {181} successor still retains some interesting tombs with
characteristic laudatory inscriptions, including those of Richard
Lister, some time Lord Mayor of London, and his wife Margaret Diggs,
and of Philadelphia Palmer, whilst in the Bishop's Chapel is a
noteworthy brass to the memory of John Welbeck and his wife.

Less than a century ago Putney still owned many an historic mansion
standing in its own grounds, including the so-called Palace, Fairfax
House, Essex House, Windsor Lodge, and Putney House, but they have all,
alas, been demolished, as has also the no less interesting gabled
cottage by the riverside in which Henry VIII.'s hated minister Thomas
Cromwell was born, and the more important Lime Grove House, standing
well back from the village on the road to Wimbledon, in which the great
historian Edward Gibbon first saw the light.  Fortunately, however,
their sites can still be identified, and are even now, to some extent,
haunted by the memory of the great names associated with them.  The
palace, built about the end of the fifteenth century, and now
represented by River Street and River Terrace, was a place of no little
note, and was connected with the one occupied by the Bishop of London
by a subterranean passage.  Long the seat of the Waldeck family, the
palace was owned in the reign of Elizabeth by Mr. John Lacy, a wealthy
cloth-merchant, who several times entertained the maiden queen in it.
Her first visit took place in 1579, and her last in 1603, when she was
on her way to her beloved palace at Richmond, where she {182} died two
months later.  To the Putney Palace came also her successor James I.,
just before his coronation, and thirty-nine years later it was for a
time the headquarters of one of his son's most bitter enemies, General
Lord Fairfax, who had succeeded the Earl of Essex in command of the
Parliamentary army that was encamped at Putney during the three months
of 1647 when Charles I. was a prisoner at Hampton Court.  The mansion
was then the property of the High Sheriff, Mr. Wymonsold, and after the
Restoration it changed hands many times.  Early in the nineteenth
century the property was thrown into Chancery, and sold to a gentleman
whose name, fortunately perhaps for his memory, has not been preserved,
for he showed no appreciation for the associations connected with the
beautiful old house, but had it pulled down to make room for totally
uninteresting buildings.  The only still existing relics of the palace
are the iron entrance-gates, that were often flung open to admit Queen
Elizabeth and her retinue, which were bought by a brush manufacturer of
Putney, by whose descendants they are prized as heirlooms.

Fairfax House, named, not as is generally taken for granted, after the
Parliamentarian leader, but a private gentleman, was until quite
recently one of the most noteworthy features of the High Street, and
the lawn overshadowed by trees, said to have been planted by Bishop
Juxon in the happy days before his royal master's troubles began, is
still in existence.  Essex House, that stood not far from Fairfax
House, is generally supposed to have been {183} built by Queen
Elizabeth's ill-fated favourite, and he may probably have been living
in it when his royal mistress was the guest of Mr. Lacy at Putney
Palace.  It, too, was destroyed in the iconoclastic nineteenth century,
but in a humble shop occupying part of its site is preserved a very
significant relic of it--a ceiling bearing the coat of arms of Queen
Elizabeth, set in a circlet representing the Prince of Wales's feathers
and the Harp of Ireland, and with the initials of Essex and the queen
worked into a true-lovers' knot.

Of Windsor Lodge, once, it is said, part of a convent, some remains
were dug up a short time ago proving it to have been a fine building in
the Gothic style; but of Putney House, in which George III. was often
entertained by its owner, Mr. Gerard Van Neck, the memory alone
survives, for after serving from 1839 to 1857 as a college for civil
engineers, it was pulled down and is now replaced by a row of
commonplace villas.

It is difficult to determine exactly where the cottage stood in which
Thomas Cromwell was born, but it is well known that his father, who
held a good position in Putney as a blacksmith, brewer, wool-merchant,
and inn-keeper, owned a considerable amount of property under the lord
of the manor of Wimbledon.  Part of his land was by the Thames, and was
known as the 'Homestall,' the probability being that the homestead in
which the family lived, the brewery, and hostelry were three separate
buildings grouped together not far from the parish church.  In any
case, the young Thomas must have {184} been very familiar with
riverside Putney; he often helped to load his father's barges with
wool, to be taken down to the ships awaiting them below London Bridge,
and he attended a day-school close to his home.  At the age of fourteen
he was apprenticed to his uncle John Williams, who was then overseer of
Wimbledon Manor and lived in a homestead at Mortlake, on the site of
which is a house still named after him.  On the death of his master in
1502, Thomas Cromwell collected the Wimbledon rents till the
appointment was given to his father, under whom he worked until 1504,
when he fell into disgrace and ran away from home.  What his crime was
is not known, but his father never forgave him, and for many years his
native place knew him no more.  Walter Cromwell, too, seems to have
lost the good position he had long held in Putney, and he would have
died in absolute want but for the generosity of his son-in-law Morgan
Williams, who gave him a little cottage on Wimbledon Green, near to his
own brewery and inn, called the Crooked Billet, the site of which is
now occupied by a group of small houses.  In this cottage the elder
Cromwell died in 1516, without having seen his son again.  By this
time, however, Thomas had returned to England and was already in the
service of Wolsey, the Crooked Billet had passed into the hands of his
sister and her husband, and all connection between him and the
neighbourhood seemed to be finally severed.  Strange to say, however,
some twenty-three years later he became lord of the manor of the very
estate on which he was born, and owner of the {185} princely income it
yielded which he had himself once helped to collect for another.  No
doubt he had sometimes in the interval landed at the steps near his old
home when in attendance as secretary on Cardinal Wolsey, who often
halted at Putney on his way up the river to Richmond or Hampton Court
before the memorable occasion in 1529--ten years before his _protégé_
became lord of the manor of Wimbledon, when in his sad journey to Esher
after the Great Seal had been taken from him, he eluded the malice of
his enemies by going by land, attended only by two or three faithful
servants, riding up the then gorse and heather-clad Putney Hill towards
the heath, which he intended to cross in a westerly direction.  The
story goes that the disgraced favourite was stopped before he reached
the summit of the ascent by a messenger from the king, no less a
personage than the Lord Chamberlain, Sir John Norris, who gave him a
ring in token that he was once more forgiven.  In his gratitude and
surprise he is said to have hurriedly dismounted, to fall on his knees
in the road, and give earnest thanks to God for this unexpected mercy.
Sir John followed his example, their escorts looking on in amazement;
and when the two great men rose up again, a deeply interesting
conversation took place between them, Wolsey declaring that the tidings
were worth half a kingdom, and bitterly regretting that he had nothing
to send to his master to prove his deep appreciation of his goodness,
adding, on second thoughts, 'but here is my fool that rides beside me,
take him, I beseech thee, to court, and give him to his majesty; I
{186} assure you he is worth a thousand pounds for any nobleman's
pleasure.'

If there be any truth in this graphic tale, it must have been with a
light heart that the cardinal proceeded on his way; but, as is well
known, the end was already close at hand: he was shortly afterwards
charged with high treason, and died of a broken heart at Leicester
Abbey on his way to London to stand his trial.  Never again did he use
the long familiar landing-stage at Putney, or make a stately progress
up the river to his palace at Hampton Court.  As the star of Wolsey
set, however, another man, whose name is also closely associated with
Putney, rose into prominence, for Edmund Bonner, who owed much to him,
and lived in a house now destroyed at the foot of the hill, had by that
time won the king's confidence, and in 1540 was rewarded for his
tactful zeal by being made Bishop of London.  His end, though not quite
so dramatic as that of his first patron, but for whom he would probably
have remained an obscure lawyer all his life, was sad enough, for he
died in poverty and disgrace in the Marshalsea Prison, after his Putney
home had passed into the hands of strangers.

[Sidenote: Putney Heath]

Fortunately, in spite of all the encroachments of the builder in and
near the once secluded hamlet of Putney, the heath, named after it,
that is divided only by a road from the scarcely less beautiful
Wimbledon Common, and extends on the other side to the charming park of
Richmond, has been permanently secured to the public, and will probably
ever remain one of the most popular of the open-air {187} resorts near
London.  Its loftier portions command extensive views, and although
until quite recently it had a somewhat sinister reputation as a
favourite haunt of highwaymen, it is also associated with many
interesting historic memories.  On it, for instance, in 1648, when the
doom of Charles I. was already practically sealed, the people of Surrey
met to draw up a petition for the re-establishment of Episcopacy, and
there soon after the Restoration Charles II. held a grand review of his
army.  In 1652 a duel took place on the heath between Lord Chandos and
Colonel Henry Compton, in which the latter was killed; in 1798 William
Pitt, then Prime Minister, met William Tierney, M.P. for Southwark, one
of his most determined political opponents, and rendered the encounter
abortive by firing in the air; and in 1809 occurred the meeting between
the two great statesmen, George Canning and Lord Castlereagh, the
result of a temporary estrangement only, in which the former was
slightly wounded in the thigh, whilst the future Foreign Secretary, who
was to do so much to promote the coalition against Napoleon, escaped
unhurt.  It is unfortunately impossible to identify exactly the scenes
of these various duels, but the last is known to have occurred on what
is now the garden of the private residence, Wildcroft, near an obelisk
that was set up a century after the breaking out of the Great Fire of
London to commemorate the discovery by David Hartley of a means for
rendering buildings fireproof.

[Sidenote: Bowling-Green House]

On the outskirts of Putney Heath are several houses that have been at
one time or another {188} occupied by persons of note, of which the
most interesting is perhaps that in which William Pitt lived for some
years and died.  It occupies the site and retains the name of
Bowling-Green House, a noted place of entertainment to which the
fashionable world of London used to flock in the early eighteenth
century to meet their friends at breakfast or at supper, and to take
part in or watch the bowling matches that took place on the fine green
belonging to the inn that is constantly referred to in the contemporary
press, and was long considered the finest in England.  The ancient
hostelry was pulled down about 1760 and replaced a little later by the
present Bowling-Green House, that was occupied for some little time by
Admiral Cornwallis before the more famous William Pitt took possession
of it, hoping to find in its quiet seclusion exemption from the many
cares that harassed the closing years of his brief but chequered
career.  Already, before he took up his abode in his new home, the
storm had broken that led to his resignation in 1801, and even after
his return to office in 1804 nothing but disappointment, aggravated by
physical suffering, awaited him.  The disgrace of his trusted friend
Lord Melville, who was often his guest at Putney, and with whom he
there discussed, after the death of Nelson, the difficult question of
what should be done for Lady Hamilton, was a bitter blow to him, and
even the victory of Trafalgar failed to restore to him confidence in
the future of the country he had loved and served so well.  To the very
last, however, Pitt retained an outward cheerfulness, and many
anecdotes are told {189} of the interviews that took place between him
and his distinguished visitors in Bowling-Green House.  Lord Brougham,
for instance, relates how he and Lord Wellesley, the latter fresh from
his triumphs in India, went together early in January 1806 to see the
great peace minister, who though he was to pass away but a few days
later, welcomed them gaily, declaring he would soon be well again, and
showing the greatest interest in all the news they brought him.
Strange to say, in spite of the devoted attachment of many friends, and
the deep love of his gifted niece Lady Hester Stanhope, who lived with
him for three years at Putney, Pitt is said to have died absolutely
alone.  The story has again and again been repeated that a messenger
who called to inquire for him on the day of his death, after waiting a
long time at the door, which stood open, went into Bowling-Green House
unannounced, and found his way to the minister's bedroom, where the man
who, a short time before, had been so popular, lay dead, unwatched by a
single attendant.  Whatever truth there may be in this report, there is
no doubt that Pitt was deeply mourned throughout the length and breadth
of England; a public funeral, and a grave in Westminster Abbey, were
voted for him by an immense majority in the House of Commons, and his
memory was long held dear in the neighbourhood in which he breathed his
last.  Lady Hester Stanhope is said never to have fully recovered from
his loss; she indignantly refused the increase in the annuity granted
to her by the king because that increase was suggested by Fox, her
beloved uncle's {190} political opponent, and a few years after Pitt's
death she left England, to which she never returned, to embark on her
extraordinary career in the East.

Not far from Bowling-Green House is a villa in which Mrs. Siddons and
her daughters lived for two years; on the hill is a house in which Pitt
resided before his removal to his last home; in another the
portrait-painter, Henry Fuseli, died in 1825; in West Lodge, facing the
common, some of Douglas Jerrold's essays were written; and in the Pines
still lives the famous poet Algernon Charles Swinburne.  The
neighbouring hamlet of Roehampton, too, has many interesting
associations, for before the beautiful park that belonged to the manor
was sold for building, there were many fine old mansions in it that
were the homes of distinguished men.  The estate was long the property
of the Crown, but it was given by Charles I. to Sir Richard Weston, who
added to the manor-house a chapel (the site of which is occupied by the
present church) that was consecrated by Bishop Laud in 1632.  Three
years later the new owner, who had then become Earl of Portland, added
many acres to his property, but his son and successor was compelled, in
consequence of his losses during the Civil War, to sell his noble
inheritance.  It was bought in 1640 by Sir Thomas Lloyd, from whom it
passed to the famous beauty, Christina, Duchess of Devonshire, who kept
up a cipher correspondence with Charles II. during his exile.  After
the Restoration, Roehampton Park House was the scene of many a
brilliant gathering, the king and queen {191} having often been the
guests of the duchess, but its memories did not save it from being
again sold in 1698, and after changing hands several times it became
the property of Lord Huntingfield, who pulled it down to replace it by
a still standing villa known as Roehampton Grove.  On part of the park
was erected the Convent of the Sacred Heart, and the remainder was
divided amongst different purchasers, but some few fine old mansions
still remain to bear witness to the time when Roehampton was an
aristocratic suburb, including the seat of the Earl of Leven and
Melville, and Manresa House, now a Jesuit College, that was built for
the Earl of Bessborough, and long bore his name.

[Sidenote: Barnes]

Another village in intimate touch with Putney is Barnes, that some
fifty years ago was a pretty riverside hamlet, but is now rapidly
growing into a densely populated suburb, the pond on the green fed by
the Beverley Brook, and the still unenclosed common alone preserving to
it something of its rural character.  The ancient church has been so
often restored that, with the exception of the fifteenth-century tower,
it retains little of the original structure, and most of the ancestral
homesteads, that were once a distinctive feature of the neighbourhood,
have been pulled down.  Within the church, however, are preserved a few
interesting memorials of the long ago, such as a brass in memory of
William Millebourne, who died in 1415, and a tablet bearing an
inscription to Edward Rose of London, who just before his death, in
1653, bequeathed £20 for the purchase of an acre of land, {192} the
proceeds of the cultivation of which were to be given to the poor of
Barnes after the deduction of enough to keep his own tomb in repair,
for the planting of more trees about his grave, and the preservation
from injury by the erection of a wooden paling, instructions that were
literally obeyed for a long spell of years.  The eighteenth-century
mural monument to Sir Richard Hoare is also noteworthy, and in the
churchyard, which with its venerable trees has an old-world appearance,
are several ancient tombs with quaint inscriptions, besides the one in
which rests Richard Rose.

[Sidenote: Barn Elms]

The history of Barnes can be traced back to Saxon times, its manor
having been given by King Athelstan to the Dean and Chapter of St.
Paul's, who have held it ever since, though it has been leased to many
different tenants.  The village is probably named after some early
occupant of the ancient homestead that occupied the site of the modern
mansion known as Barn Elms, now the headquarters of the popular
Ranelagh Club, that with a smaller house connected with it stands in
well-cultivated grounds sloping down to the river.  In the predecessor
of the present Barn Elms Sir Francis Walsingham, who rented it on a
long lease from 1579, often received his exacting mistress Queen
Elizabeth, and there possibly he may have submitted to her some of the
correspondence between the Queen of Scots and her adherents that had
been intercepted by his spies.  Elizabeth was at Barn Elms in 1588, the
year after Mary's execution, when Walsingham had already retired from
office, and {193} was a comparatively poor man, but in spite of this
the queen was attended by her whole court, who were entertained at her
host's expense.  In fact, as was the case with many other favourites,
the sovereign's partiality nearly ruined the ex-minister, who when he
died in 1590 left his widow scarcely enough money to keep up Barn Elms.
She was, however, able to leave the lease to her daughter, one of the
famous beauties of the day, who was three times married, first to Sir
Philip Sidney, then to the Earl of Essex, and lastly to the Earl of
Clanricarde.  As Countess of Essex she resided for some time in her old
home, but the house was deserted after her third wedding, and there is
a gap in its history till 1663, when it or the smaller house connected
with it was occupied by the then popular poet Samuel Cowley, who was
there visited, it is said, by Milton and other contemporary literary
celebrities.  John Evelyn, and later Samuel Pepys, had both a great
affection for Barn Elms, but the latter took a dislike to it after the
tragedy that occurred in its grounds in 1678, when the Earl of
Shrewsbury was mortally wounded in a duel with Charles II.'s infamous
favourite George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.  The wife of the former
had left him to become the mistress of the latter, and the story goes
that she was present at the encounter disguised as a page holding her
lover's horse.

During the reign of George II. Barn Elms was the scene of many a merry
entertainment, in which the great musician Handel sometimes took part,
for it was tenanted by the famous Master of Revels at the {194} English
court, Count Heidegger, who was noted for his skill in improvising
startling effects.  He was succeeded on his death by the wealthy banker
Sir Richard Hoare, and in the early nineteenth century it was the home
of the editor of the _Weekly Political Register_, William Cobbett, who
was aptly called the Ishmael of politics, for his hand was often
against every other member of his own party.  Somewhat later Barn Elms
was rented by Sir Lancelot Shadwell, Vice-Chancellor of England, who
was a noted swimmer and keenly interested in river sports.  At his
hospitable table were several times entertained the crews of the Oxford
and Cambridge boats on the evenings of the annual race, that was rowed
for the first time from Putney to Mortlake in 1848, the earlier
contests having taken place on another course.

The historic Barn Elms house has long since ceased to be, but the
smaller residence attached to it, which was known in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries as Queen Elizabeth's Dairy, is still standing.
In it lived for many years, and died in 1735, the eminent bookseller
Jacob Tonson, founder of the famous Kit Cat Club, to which belonged all
the chief literary men of the day, including Sir Robert Walpole,
Congreve, Dryden, Steele, and Addison, for whose accommodation Tonson
added a gallery to his house which was hung with their portraits,
painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller, who was then court painter.  On the
death of the owner the gallery was pulled down, and the portraits were
{195} removed to the seat of his family at Bayfordbury, but the
surroundings of the meeting-place of the Club are even now much what
they were in the eighteenth century.

[Sidenote: Barnes]

The river at Barnes, that here makes a sudden bend to the north, is
spanned by several bridges, and its banks are lined with good houses,
some of which are associated with famous names.  In one of those on the
Terrace, for instance, resided the French political refugees the Count
and Countess d'Antraigues, who were assassinated in 1812 by an Italian
in their service; and in the mansion known as St. Anne's lived the
famous eighteenth-century beauty Lady Archer.  In an old house
overlooking the common Henry Fielding wrote some of his novels, Monk
Lewis composed his _Crazy Jane_ in a cottage not far off that cannot
now be identified; and amongst the rectors of the parish were the Latin
scholar Dr. Hare, the eloquent preacher Henry Melvill, and the
well-known hymn-writer, the Rev. John Ellerton.  At Barnes, too, in a
house now destroyed, lived and died the brother-in-law of Sir Francis
Walsingham, Robert Beale, who was perhaps introduced to Queen Elizabeth
at Barn Elms, and who was chosen by her for the painful mission of
taking to Mary, Queen of Scots, the warrant for her execution, and in
the same river-side village the zealous anabaptist Abrezer Coppe took
refuge on his release from Newgate in 1651, where he had been
imprisoned for a year for issuing his extraordinary pamphlet _The Fiery
Flying Roll_.  Disguised as a doctor, and calling himself Hiam, {196}
he divided his time between preaching and prescribing for patients, and
managed to escape further persecution, dying a natural death in 1692,
when he was buried under his assumed name in Barnes churchyard.



{197}

CHAPTER IX

WIMBLEDON, MERTON, MITCHAM, AND THEIR MEMORIES

[Sidenote: Wimbledon]

Scarcely less interesting than the charming riverside districts of
Surrey described above is the neighbouring parish of Wimbledon, that
stretches southwards from Wandsworth, Putney, Roehampton and Barnes to
Merton and Cheam, and westwards to Kingston, the river Wandle dividing
it from Mitcham on the east.  Long before the Conquest, Wimbledon
Common, that was then but a small portion of vast unenclosed wild
lands, was the scene of events that had their share in determining the
fate of southern England, and since that epoch-making event it has
again and again been associated with typical incidents of the national
life.  The remains of very extensive entrenchments on its south-western
side, locally known as Bensbury, that were unfortunately almost
destroyed in 1880 by the owner of the property, prove that it was at a
very early date the scene of important military operations, but whether
these entrenchments were the work of British, Roman, or Saxon hands
there is no evidence to prove.  Popular opinion, however, long since
decided that Cæsar {198} was the first occupier of the Rounds, as the
earthworks were called, and the few still existing relics will probably
always be associated with his name.  Possibly, indeed, he may have
halted on the common during the campaign of B.C. 54, and even have
drank from the spring of pure water about a quarter of a mile from his
supposed camp, that is preserved from defilement by a stone casing
provided at the expense of Sir Henry Peek, who was for some time owner
of the mansion known as Wimbledon House.  It is as difficult to
determine the origin of the word Wimbledon as it is to decide who was
the maker of the so-called Cæsar's Camp.  It is very differently spelt
by various chroniclers, and the probability is that the two first
syllables preserve the name of an early Saxon owner of the manor, and
that the last simply means hill.  In the Saxon Chronicle reference is
made to a battle that took place at Wibbandune, possibly near the
much-discussed camp, between Ceawlin, King of Wessex, and Æthelbricht,
King of Kent, in which the latter was defeated, but Wimbledon is not
mentioned in Doomsday Book, it having been one of many submanors
belonging to Mortlake.  It was separated from the latter by Henry
VIII., to be bestowed upon Thomas Cromwell, who was then at the very
zenith of his prosperity, for he had fulfilled his promise that he
would make his master the richest monarch who had ever ruled over
England.  He was raised to the peerage as Baron of Okeham, and almost
immediately afterwards created Earl of Essex.  It was, however, but for
one brief year that he was {199} allowed to enjoy his new dignities and
possessions, and it had scarcely ended before the fickle Henry turned
against him.  The once highly favoured minister was accused of treason,
and eight weeks after he became an earl he was beheaded on Tower Hill.
The manor of Wimbledon reverted to the Crown, and later it was given by
the king to Catherine Parr for her life.  On the death of her
stepmother in 1547, Queen Mary bestowed it on Cardinal Pole, then only
a deacon, with whom it was popularly believed she was in love before
her marriage with Philip II. of Spain.  Pole, however, never resided at
Wimbledon, and the property was taken from him before his death, which
took place the day after that of the queen, whose evil genius he had
been.  Queen Elizabeth granted the manor in 1576 to Sir Christopher
Hatton, from whom it passed by purchase to Sir Thomas Cecil, son of the
great statesman Sir William Cecil, better known as Lord Burghley.  The
new owner pulled down the old manor-house and replaced it by a
magnificent structure, that until its demolition early in the
eighteenth century by Sir Theodore Jansen was considered the finest
private residence near London.  It was designed by John Thorpe, whose
architectural drawing for it, bearing the inscription, 'Wymbledon, an
house standing on the edge of a hie hill,' is preserved in the Soane
Museum.  Queen Elizabeth was often the guest of Lord Burghley in the
house he inherited from his father, the approaches to which appear to
have been but little in keeping with its grandeur, as proved by an
entry {200} in the Kingston Churchwarden's book for 1599 recording the
payment of twenty pence for mending the ways when the queen went from
Wimbledon to Nonsuch.

Lord Burghley, who had been created Earl of Essex, before his death
left his Wimbledon property to his youngest son, Edward Cecil, who
received the title of Lord Wimbledon in 1626.  The latter, who was an
eloquent writer as well as a distinguished soldier, and is included in
Horace Walpole's catalogue of royal and noble authors, died in 1638, at
the beginning of the acute stage of the conflict between autocratic and
constitutional government, and his heir sold his Wimbledon home to
Queen Henrietta Maria, who was often there with her husband and
children during the few years of happiness that remained to them.  Only
a short time before the end of his troubled career, Charles I. gave
orders that some melon seeds from Spain should be planted in the
gardens, but whether this was done or not is not known.  The beautiful
house and estate were sold in 1649 by the Parliamentary Commissioners
to a Mr. Baynes, from whom they were soon afterwards purchased by
General Lambert, who is said to have found great consolation for the
troubles resulting from his refusal to take the oath of allegiance to
the Protector by cultivating flowers, the tulips and gilliflowers he
raised at Wimbledon having been the finest that could be had for love
or money.

After the Restoration Charles II. gave back the Wimbledon manor-house
to his widowed mother, {201} but it was too full of sad memories for
her to care to live in it, and she sold it in 1661--the year, by the
way, of the trial of General Lambert for treason--to John Digby, Earl
of Bristol, who with the aid of the famous John Evelyn soon completely
transformed it to suit his own taste.  It was in the parish church of
Wimbledon that the earl made his famous renunciation of the Roman
Catholic religion, that was described by the French ambassador, who
happened to be present, as an insolent and daring act; and it was
whilst he was living in his half-finished mansion that he narrowly
escaped arrest somewhat later when Charles II. sent messengers to
arrest him.  The Earl of Bristol died at Wimbledon in 1676, and his
estate, after changing hands several times, was bought in 1717 by Sir
Theodore Jansen, one of the promoters of the luckless South Sea scheme,
who, with little reverence for the beauty and historic associations of
the house, at once began to pull it down.  Before he had time to build
another he and his fellow-speculators were ruined, and the Wimbledon
estate was sold by him to Sarah Jennings, the famous Duchess of
Marlborough.  She in her turn built a new and costly mansion which she
bequeathed, with the rest of the property, to her grandson, John
Spencer, to whose descendants it belonged--passing, in accordance with
the custom known as borough English, to the youngest, not the eldest
son--until 1871, when it was sold and broken up into a number of small
holdings.  The house built for the duchess, in which Hannah More was
the guest, in 1786, of the Bishop of St. Asaph, was {202} burned down
in 1785, and the then owner replaced it with that still standing, known
as Wimbledon Park House, that is associated with the memory of Sir
William Paxton, the architect of the Crystal Palace, who began his
career as assistant to his brother, who was head gardener for many
years to the Cecil family.

At the present time Wimbledon, in spite of all the changes that have
taken place in its general appearance, is one of the most beautiful of
the London suburbs, and though it has lost its historic manor-house, it
retains many fine old mansions that bear witness to its aristocratic
associations.  Amongst these, perhaps the finest is Eagle House, on the
Green, a noble Jacobean structure, with ten gables, built by Robert
Bell, a wealthy London merchant in the reign of James I., and occupied
for some years, from 1789, by the Right Honourable William Grenville,
the relation and colleague of William Pitt, who often visited him
there, one of the bedrooms being still named after him.  A house not
far off, known as Wimbledon Lodge, was at the same time the home of the
famous philanthropist, William Wilberforce, who in his _Journal_ makes
many allusions to his happy meetings at Eagle House with William Pitt,
whom he sometimes persuaded to go to church with him.

At Chester House, another fine old mansion that faces the common, John
Horne Tooke spent the last years of his life, and died in 1812, leaving
instructions in his will that he should be buried in a mausoleum, still
preserved in the garden; but his {203} wishes were disregarded, for he
rests in the churchyard of Ealing.  Near the Crooked Billet, already
referred to in connection with Thomas Cromwell, lived John Murray,
founder of the publishing house named after him, and amongst his
neighbours were William Gifford, the first editor of the _Quarterly
Review_, and James Perry, the originator of the _Morning Chronicle_.
Melrose House, on West Hill, now a home for incurables, was once the
seat of the Duke of Sutherland.  Madame Goldschmidt, better known as
Jenny Lind, lived for several years in Wimbledon Park, and it was in
Wresil Lodge that the celebrated Anglo-Indian statesman, Sir Bartle
Frere, passed away.

The Parsonage of Wimbledon is a very picturesque old homestead, but
there is little of interest about the modern parish church, that has
had several predecessors, except the mortuary chapel connected with it
that was built in the early seventeenth century as a family vault by
Lord Wimbledon.  There are, however, two or three noteworthy
eighteenth-century tombs in the churchyard, that also owns a memorial
to the celebrated American painter, Gilbert Stuart Newton, who died at
Chelsea in 1835.

The chief glory of Wimbledon is now, as it has been for centuries, its
breezy elevated common, that is more than a thousand acres in extent,
and with Putney Heath, Richmond Park, Ham and Sheen commons, form an
unbroken stretch of varied scenery unrivalled even in the heart of the
country for its rural charm.  Peaceful as Wimbledon Common now seems,
however, it has witnessed {204} many stirring and gruesome incidents,
for it was long a favourite haunt of highwaymen and a noted place for
duels.  The secluded Coombe Wood on its outskirts, beloved of Constable
and Stothard, where stands the house occupied by Lord Liverpool when he
was Prime Minister, was the chief lurking-place of those lying in wait
for unwary travellers, who were often not only robbed but murdered in
broad daylight.  It was no unusual thing for the bodies of criminals to
be left hanging in chains till they rotted away near the spot where
their worst deeds were done, and in a contemporary caricature of the
duel already referred to between William Pitt and William Tierney, the
remains of the notorious Jerry Abershaw, who suffered death at
Kensington in 1735, are seen in the background dangling from a post
close to the Windmill which is still such a picturesque feature of the
common.

[Illustration: WIMBLEDON COMMON]

In 1789 occurred the encounter between Colonel Lennox, later Duke of
Richmond, and the Duke of York, second son of George III., that caused
much excitement at the time, for it was unusual for a commoner to
challenge a prince of the blood, though the latter was in this case
undoubtedly in the wrong, a fact of which he proved his sense by
refusing to fire at his antagonist, who had to be content with
discharging one bullet only that passed harmlessly through his
adversary's hair.  In 1807 a duel was fought in Coombe Wood, in which
both parties were slightly wounded, between Sir Francis Burdett, the
famous Conservative statesman, and Mr. Paull, who had been one of his
agents {205} in his successful candidature for Westminster; and in 1809
a certain Mr. Payne was mortally wounded in a duel on the common with a
Mr. Clarke, who had made dishonourable proposals to his sister.  More
celebrated than either of these meetings, however, was that of 1839,
when the Marquis of Londonderry met Henry Grattan, son of the famous
Irish patriot of that name, and, after allowing his opponent to fire at
him, discharged his own pistol in the air, a quiet way of proving his
contempt for the duel as a mode of settling quarrels.  A year later the
future Emperor Napoleon III. challenged his fellow-countryman, Comte
Léon, to a combat on Wimbledon Common, but a dispute having arisen
between them when on the ground as to the weapons to be used, so much
delay was caused that the police appeared on the scene and arrested the
whole party, who were brought before the magistrate at Bow Street and
bound over to keep the peace.  Far more serious than this fiasco was
the encounter, in the same year, between the Earl of Cardigan, later
leader of the famous charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava, and
Captain Harvey Tuckett, one of his officers, whom he had treated with
unwarrantable harshness.  The latter was seriously wounded, and public
indignation against the earl was very great, but though he was tried by
his peers in 1841 he escaped punishment through a legal quibble, his
counsel having pretended that it was impossible to prove the identity
of the sufferer with the Captain Tuckett named in the indictment.

By the middle of the nineteenth century duelling {206} had quite gone
out of fashion in England; and although a few hostile meetings have
since taken place on Wimbledon Common, they have been mere farces
unworthy of serious consideration.  The beautiful open space has since
then become associated with memories of a far more ennobling kind, for
it has been the scene of many a great gathering of volunteers, which
have made the name of Wimbledon known throughout the civilised world,
and have done more, perhaps, than anything else to make military
service popular in England.

It is usual to date the beginning of the great volunteer movement from
1859, when General Peel, then Minister of War, sanctioned the
acceptance by the authorities of those who offered themselves to take
part in the national defence, but the way had been long before prepared
by the formation of local associations, amongst which that of
Wimbledon, founded in 1799, was the first.  A corps of cavalry and one
of infantry were quickly formed, in which all the leading gentlemen of
the parish were enrolled.  The example thus set was eagerly followed,
and in 1798 George III. reviewed on Wimbledon Common a regiment more
than six hundred strong.  By 1803 the volunteers numbered no less than
355,307, and there can be no doubt that had Napoleon realised the
expectations of the people of England by invasion, the self-constituted
army would have proved itself fully equal to the emergency.  After the
battle of Waterloo the volunteer force was disbanded; but the spirit
which had animated it was not extinct, and when {207} some years later
a new war with France seemed imminent, a single spark was all that was
needed to kindle anew the patriotic enthusiasm of the whole nation,
which resulted in the formation of a new volunteer army, in many
respects superior to its predecessor.  In June 1860 Queen Victoria
reviewed that army in Hyde Park, and a month later took place on
Wimbledon Common the inauguration of the National Rifle Association,
Her Majesty firing the first shot.  From that time to 1887, when the
meetings were transferred to Bisley, the volunteers encamped on the
beautiful common every summer, representative teams from every part of
the United Kingdom and some of the colonies taking part in the various
competitions, which, with the reviews that terminated the operations,
attracted thousands of spectators.  Wimbledon Common is now
comparatively deserted, but the memory of the volunteers is kept green
by the fine flagstaff, the loftiest in England, that rises up a short
distance from the windmill, and consists of the trunk of a single
Californian pine that was towed across the Atlantic by a liner, and was
the gift of a Canadian corps in acknowledgment of the hospitality
received during a visit to the camp.  Now and then, as when in 1906 the
London companies of the Royal Volunteer Army Medical Corps and a party
of Electrical Royal Engineers rehearsed first aid to the wounded after
a fight supposed to have taken place in the night, the common is still
turned to account as a practising-ground, but it is at present chiefly
noted as being the headquarters of the {208} London and Scottish Golf
and the All-England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Clubs.

[Sidenote: Merton]

Within easy reach of Wimbledon are a number of villages, including
Merton, Morden, Malden, Mitcham, and Tooting, which, though they have
all recently been promoted to the doubtful dignity of becoming suburbs
of London, still retain some few relics of the days gone by when they
were secluded woodland hamlets.  Of these the most important is
Merton--inseparably connected with the memory of Lord Nelson and Lady
Hamilton--the history of which can be traced back to the eighth
century, when its site was the scene of a terrible tragedy, for it was
there that in 784 the noble king of the West Saxons, Cynewulf, who was
on a visit to a lady to whom he was deeply attached, was treacherously
slain, with all his attendants, by the Ætheling Cyneheard, a crime that
was fearfully avenged the day after, when the murderer and all his
followers but one fell victims to the rage of Cynewulf's thanes.
According to some authorities, it was near the Surrey Merton that the
battle took place between the English and the Danes in 871, when King
Æthelred was wounded to death, and at which his brother, the future
King Alfred, was present; but it must be added that the balance of
evidence is in favour of that important event, which inaugurated a new
era for England, having occurred elsewhere.  In any case, however, it
is certain that Merton--the name of which is supposed to signify the
town on the mere, from its vicinity to the ponds of the Wandle--was a
valuable manor at the time {209} of the Conquest, when it was the
property of King Harold.  It was confiscated by William I., and was
retained by the Crown until it was bestowed by Henry I. on the
so-called Gilbert the Norman, founder of the famous priory of Merton
that was long the glory of the neighbourhood.

Originally a humble community of monks living in a small timber-built
house near a Norman church, also built by Gilbert, the new settlement
quickly attracted so many novices that it was soon decided to transfer
it to a more extensive site, and in the course of a few years a stately
structure, of which, unfortunately, but a few scanty relics remain,
rose up on the banks of the Wandle.  The first stone was laid by
Gilbert the Norman in 1130, but he did not live to see the completion
of his work, for he died the same year, after having carefully secured
the property to the Augustinians.  From the first the priory enjoyed
many special privileges, including that of a seat in Parliament for its
abbot and the right of sanctuary, of which Hubert de Burgh, who had
acted as Regent during the minority of Henry III., availed himself when
he was fleeing from the wrath of his ungrateful master in 1234.  It was
in the spacious hall of the priory that met, two years later, the great
council of the nation that defeated the attempt of the king and pope,
who were for once inspired by a common ambition, to force upon the
people what was known as the 'Rule of the Canon Law for the
legitimisation of children born before the wedlock of their parents.'
Earls and barons alike stood firm, declaring that nothing {210} would
induce them to change the established laws of England; and it was not
until several centuries later that what became known as the Statute of
Merton was to a great extent nullified by the passing of the Legitimacy
Act of 1858.

As time went on Merton Priory became a celebrated place of education,
numbering amongst its pupils many boys who later rose to eminence,
including Thomas à Becket, who was there for some time before he was
sent to Pevensey Castle for his military training, and Walter de
Merton, who became Lord High Chancellor of England in 1261, and founded
in 1264 at the neighbouring village of Malden the college of Merton,
that was transferred in 1274 to Oxford, and enjoys the distinction of
having been the first institution in that city that was organised on
collegiate lines.

Within easy distance of London, Merton was often visited by the
reigning sovereigns, who repaid the hospitality they received from the
abbot with constant gifts of land or money, so that by the time of the
suppression of the monasteries the abbey grounds, that were enclosed by
a wall, a few portions of which are still standing, were no less than
sixty acres in extent, and its revenues amounted to more than a
thousand pounds a year.  In addition to this, the priory owned many
estates in other parts of the country, with the advowsons of several
churches, but all its property was snatched away by Henry VIII., who
let the abbey on lease, but retained the manor of Merton, which
remained the property of the Crown until 1610, when it was sold {211}
by James I. to a certain Thomas Hunt, since which time it changed hands
again and again before its lands were broken up into small holdings and
built upon.  Of the ancient manor-house not a trace is left, though
possibly the so-called manor farm may occupy its site, but the abbey
remained uninjured for some time longer.  It had been given by Queen
Mary just before her death to the monastery of Sheen, but was reclaimed
by her successor, who granted a long lease of it to the cofferer of the
royal household, Gregory Lovell, who died at Merton in 1597; and was
buried in the parish church.  In 1610 the historic building was sold to
a certain Thomas Hunt, who passed it on to his heirs in good
preservation, as proved by the fact that it was one of the strong
places fortified during the Civil War.  In 1668 it became the property
of a member of the Pepys family, and its purchase by his 'Cosen Tom' is
referred to by Samuel Pepys in his _Diary_ for that year.  At the
beginning of the eighteenth century the priory and chapel were still
beautiful buildings, but long before the end they had been despoiled
and converted into a calico-printing factory.  Part of the materials
were used to build a mansion that occupied the site of the modern house
now called Merton Abbey, and a single Norman arch incorporated in the
factory is all that remains to bear witness to the glory of the
monastery founded by Gilbert the Norman.  The railway connecting
Wimbledon and Tooting runs right across what were once the abbey
grounds; but in the portion belonging to the house referred to above
are {212} some fish-ponds that were probably used by the monks.

Fortunately the parish church of Merton, in which Lord Nelson, Sir
William and Lady Hamilton often worshipped, with its tiled roof, squat
timber tower, and octagonal spire, its Norman arch at the northern end
and Early English pillars in the nave, retains, in spite of frequent
restoration, very much the appearance that it did when first completed
early in the twelfth century.  Two of the ancient lancet windows
remain, the arms of the priory in old stained glass have been worked
into the modern east window, on the south wall is a mural monument,
with kneeling effigies, to the memory of Gregory Lovell, his wife, and
their eight children, and in the nave are the hatchments of the great
families who at different times owned the manor of Merton, and also one
bearing the arms of Lord Nelson that was presented after his death by
Lady Hamilton.  In the vestry is preserved the pew in which the lovers
used to sit, and in the churchyard are several quaint old tombs,
including that of the second wife of the famous bookseller, James
Luckington, who lived for some years at Merton.

Opposite to the church is an interesting Elizabethan mansion standing
well back from the road in extensive grounds, with fine entrance-gates
of wrought iron, that was long erroneously supposed to have been the
original manor-house of Merton, and close to the gates is a flight of
stone steps that are said to have been used by Lord Nelson for mounting
and dismounting when he rode to church from {213} his beloved home on
the Wandle, known as Merton Place, where he spent the happiest years of
his life, and from which he went forth never to return five weeks
before the battle of Trafalgar, in which he lost his life.

Unfortunately, absolutely no trace is now left of Merton Place, for it
was sold in 1808 by Lady Hamilton, to whom it had been bequeathed, and
its site is now occupied by a street of commonplace villas, the names
of Nelson Place and the Nelson Arms alone recalling the days when the
great naval hero was a familiar figure in the village.  Opposite the
railway station, however, is a ruined castellated gate overgrown with
ivy that once gave access to the estate which Nelson and his beloved
Emma called Paradise Merton, which witnessed the closing scenes of a
romance without a parallel in history or fiction.  On the improvement
of that estate large sums of money were expended, and after the
credulous or wilfully blind Sir William Hamilton had passed away, the
long disowned but deeply loved Horatia was brought to live with her
mother, her absent father betraying in his letters a deep solicitude
for her welfare, as when he begs that 'a strong netting about three
feet high may be placed round the Nile,' as he called the stream
running through the grounds, 'that the little thing may not tumble in.'

[Sidenote: Malden]

Malden, the Anglo-Saxon name of which signifies the Hill of the Cross,
has now even less that is distinctive about it than Merton, but it is
noteworthy as having been the first site of the college referred to
above, founded in 1240 by Walter de Merton, {214} who at that date
bought Malden Manor, the history of which can be traced back to the
time of the Doomsday Survey, when with that of the neighbouring
Chessington it was the property of Richard de Tonbridge.  Merton
College retained its estate at Mitcham until the dissolution of the
monasteries, when Henry VIII. took 120 acres of it--now part of the
populous suburb known as Worcester Park--to add them to the grounds of
Nonsuch Palace.  Later Queen Elizabeth confiscated the manors of Malden
and Chessington with the advowsons of both livings for a term of no
less than five hundred years, salving her conscience by paying a
nominal rent of forty pounds, but in the reign of her successor the
members of the college succeeded in bringing about a compromise, by the
terms of which the then owner of the lease and his heirs were allowed
to retain it for another eighty years.

The parish church of Malden, though it has been again and again
restored, still retains traces of Saxon work in the walls of the
chancel, that now serves as an aisle of the greatly enlarged building,
and in the east window are the arms of Walter de Merton and of Bishop
Ravis, who occupied the see of London in the early nineteenth century,
whilst the position occupied by the altar in the first chapel is marked
by a stone slab bearing the inscription: 'Here stood the Lord's Table
on Maeldune, the Hill of the Cross for nigh a thousand years.'

Some two miles from Merton is the still secluded village of Morden, or
the settlement on the great hill, the manor of which belonged at the
time of the {215} Conquest to the abbey of Westminster, and became the
property of the Crown on the dissolution of the monasteries.  It was
granted by Edward VI. to Edward Whitchurch and Lionel Ducket, and since
then has changed hands many times.  Its ancient manor-house is still
represented by a mansion known as Morden Hall, and its parish church
retains the tower of a much earlier building, whilst on its walls hang
many fine old brasses and a number of hatchments of great antiquarian
interest.

[Sidenote: Mitcham]

The extensive parish of Mitcham, that stretches away from Merton and
Morden to Beddington, Carshalton, and Croydon on the south, and on the
east to Streatham and Norwood includes one of the most beautiful
commons near London, set in a border of fields planted with lavender
bushes and sweet-smelling herbs.  It is associated, moreover, with many
interesting memories, and at the time of the Conquest was an extremely
valuable property, including no less than five manors that were later
reduced to three, which changed hands so often that it is almost
impossible to trace their history.  It is enough to add that Thomas
Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, owned a house at Mitcham that still
bears his name, that Sir Walter Raleigh occupied another for some time
that belonged to his wife, Elizabeth Throckmorton, and that in a
mansion now pulled down Sir Julius Cæsar received Queen Elizabeth in
1598, an honour that according to his own account cost him considerably
more than £700.  On the banks of the Wandle, in a villa known as Grove
House, lived Sir Thomas More, and two {216} centuries later it was the
home of a man of a very different type, Lord Clive, who in 1774, just
before he took his own life, gave it to the great lawyer Alexander
Wedderburn, the future Lord Chancellor of England, who had defended him
at his trial.  In 1789 Grove House was bought by the London banker Sir
Samuel Hoare, who often showed hospitality in it to Hannah More, the
Wilberforces and the Macaulays.  Dr. Donne, the famous Dean of St.
Paul, who died in 1631, was also at one time a resident at Mitcham;
Charles Mathews, who was to make such a great reputation as a comedian,
used to ride over on his pony for a gallop on Mitcham Common when he
was at school at Clapham; and Dr. Johnson was fond of dining in the
neighbourhood when he was the guest of Mrs. Thrale at Streatham.

The original village of Mitcham, picturesquely situated on the Wandle,
that here works several mills, is now but the nucleus of a rapidly
growing town; and it is very much the same with its neighbour Tooting,
that retains little except the common, which is now its chief
distinction, to recall the days when Queen Elizabeth was the guest of
the lord of the manor, Lord Burghley, or those a century later, when
the author of _Robinson Crusoe_ lived in a little house on the road
that still bears his name and founded the conventicle now replaced by
the Defoe Presbyterian chapel.  The ancient parish church of Tooting,
of which that conventicle soon became a serious rival, was pulled down
some eighty years ago to make room for a modern successor; of the
beautiful convent of the Holy Cross, that once {217} stood just without
the village, and is said to have been connected with the church by a
subterranean passage, not a trace remains; whilst a few
dignified-looking mansions with wrought-iron entrance-gates, and the
two inns known as the Castle and the Angel, are the only houses with
any claim to antiquity.



{218}

CHAPTER X

RIVERSIDE SURVEY FROM MORTLAKE TO RICHMOND

[Sidenote: Mortlake]

Few villages near London have undergone such vicissitudes of fortune as
Mortlake, of which Wimbledon, Putney, and Barnes were once
dependencies, but which is now a somewhat uninteresting suburb,
redeemed from the commonplace by its situation on the river alone, and
but for the one day in the year, when the University boat-race is run,
and it is crowded with those interested in the contest, deserted by all
but its residents.  A great brewery and numerous malt-kilns replace the
palace that was long a private residence of the Archbishop of
Canterbury, and of the famous tapestry manufactory, founded in 1619 by
Sir Thomas Crane, in which, under the direction of the Italian Verrio,
work equal to that done in France was produced, not a trace remains.
Gone, too, is the mansion by the water where lived the famous
astrologer Dr. Dee, who was there often visited by Queen Elizabeth, but
who in spite of the great reputation he long enjoyed, died in absolute
poverty in 1608; and it is impossible to identify the sites of the
houses that are known to {219} have been occupied by Sir Philip
Francis, the bitter enemy of Warren Hastings, Henry Addington, the
first Lord Sidmouth, prime minister when the Peace of Amiens was
signed, Sir John Barnard, whom Sir Robert Walpole called the one
incorruptible member of Parliament, all of whom, as well as Dr. Dee,
are buried in Mortlake church, and commemorated by monuments or tablets
in it.  The pottery works, too, which to a certain extent made up for
the loss of the tapestry manufactory when the latter was removed to
Windsor, though they flourished for nearly a century, were abandoned
about 1800, and it is only the expert collector who now remembers that
the quaint Toby Philpot jugs were first made in them, and that a
peculiar kind of white stoneware was produced in a rival factory hard
by.

[Illustration: THE SHIP INN, MORTLAKE]

The church of Mortlake was founded as early as 1348, when the parish
was first cut off from that of Wimbledon, but it has been so often
restored that, but for the lower portion of the tower, it retains
scarcely anything of its original structure.  Above its western
entrance is the unusual inscription, 'Vivat Rex Henricus VIII.,' and on
an oaken screen in the chancel is an interesting painting representing
the Entombment, by the Dutch artist Van der Gutch, who lived for some
little time at Mortlake during the last decade of the eighteenth
century.  In the Roman Catholic cemetery that adjoins the Protestant
churchyard rest the remains of the famous Oriental scholar and
traveller, Sir Richard Burton, and his devoted wife, in an ornate tomb,
representing an Arab tent, that was erected before her death at the
expense of {220} Lady Burton, who, in spite of her husband's well-known
heterodox opinions, was determined that the world should believe him to
have died in what she considered the only true faith.

Pleasantly situated at a bend of the river between Mortlake and Kew,
opposite to Chiswick and Isleworth, which present a very picturesque
appearance from the towing-path on the Surrey side, and owning a green
some twelve acres in extent, the ancient village of Kew still retains,
in spite of the great number of modern houses in its parish, something
of the rural charm that distinguished it before the beautiful gardens
with which its name is now chiefly associated were laid out.

[Sidenote: Kew]

The original meaning of the word Kew, that used to be very variously
spelt, Kayhoo, Kayburgh, and Kayo being some of the forms, has not been
determined, but the settlement is supposed to date from very ancient
times, bronze spear-heads and fragments of British pottery having been
recently found in the bed of the river, near some piles that had
probably served as the foundations of huts, a little above the old
bridge that was replaced in 1903 by that known as King Edward VII.'s,
it having been opened by him in 1904.  The first actual reference to
Kew, however, occurs in a thirteenth-century roll of the royal manor of
Richmond, in which it was then included, although, strictly speaking,
it remained a hamlet of Kingston until 1769, when it became a separate
parish.

There appears to have been a small chapel of ease at Kew, the site of
which is unknown, as early as {221} 1532, and in it may sometimes have
worshipped the Princess Mary, sister of Henry VIII. and widow of Louis
XII. of France, with her second husband, Charles Brandon, Duke of
Norfolk, who owned a mansion near by, as did also Charles Somerset,
Earl of Worcester, ancestor of the inventor of the steam engine.
Later, Kew was the home for a short time of Robert Dudley, Earl of
Leicester, who had been sentenced to death, as well as his father, for
his share in the conspiracy to place Lady Jane Grey on the throne, yet
for all that rose into high favour with Queen Elizabeth, to whom he
paid assiduous court, though he was already married to the unfortunate
Amy Robsart.  Whether the maiden queen was ever his guest at Kew it is
impossible to say, but after his death she paid several visits to Sir
John Pickering, Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal, who owned a mansion near
the green, now pulled down, and spent large sums on her entertainment
in 1594 and 1595.  The house that belonged to Robert Dudley was sold by
him to Sir Hugh Portman, a merchant of Holland, for which reason it was
long called the Dutch House, and is still standing just inside the
chief gates of Kew Gardens.  It is now known as the Palace, a very
misleading name, that more rightly belonged to a much larger building
that was opposite to it, and was called Kew House.  The latter belonged
in the early seventeenth century to a Mr. Bennett, and passed, as part
of the marriage portion of his daughter, to her husband Sir Henry,
later Lord Capel, who was the first founder of the famous gardens, that
were referred to by Rowland {222} Whyte in a letter to Sir Robert
Sydney, dated August 27, 1678, 'as containing the choicest fruit of any
plantation in England.'  Lord Capel became, many years later,
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and never returned to his Kew home, but his
widow resided in it until her death in 1721, when she was buried in Kew
church.  The property then passed to Lady Elizabeth, grand-niece of
Lord Capel, who had married Mr. Molyneux, private secretary to the then
Prince of Wales.  Molyneux was devoted to astronomical science, and
whilst he was living at Kew he and the more celebrated James Bradley
made a very important discovery in connection with the aberration of
the fixed stars with the aid of a large zenith-sector, the spot in Kew
Gardens where it used to stand being marked by a sundial, the gift, in
1830, of William IV.

In 1728 Lady Elizabeth Molyneux was left a widow, and in 1730 the
Prince of Wales obtained from her a long lease of Kew House, which he
did not live to profit by.  On his untimely death, however, the
Princess of Wales remained in it, and continued the work on the grounds
begun by Lord Capel, entrusting the superintendence of the alterations
to Sir William Chambers, then considered the leading architect of the
day, who designed the lofty pagoda, the great orangery, and the various
semi-classical buildings in the gardens, whilst Sir William Aston, a
noted horticulturist, was chosen as advisory botanist.  Before the
Princess of Wales died in 1772 the appearance of the Kew estate was
completely transformed, and when her son, George III., {223} took
possession of it, his wife Queen Charlotte continued constantly to add
to the rare plants in its hothouses.  So enamoured did the king become
of Kew House that, a few years later, he bought the property from the
then representative of the Capel family, retiring to it whenever
possible to amuse himself with gardening and farming.  He added several
acres in Mortlake parish and part of the Old Deer Park of Richmond to
the already extensive grounds, a considerable portion of which he
converted into grazing land for a fine flock of merino sheep, in which
he took a great pride.  The house, a picturesque half-timbered
building, soon became too small for its owner's ambitious schemes, and
shortly before his first attack of insanity he had it pulled down to
make way for a huge mansion, which, had it been completed, would have
been more like a mediæval stronghold than a residential palace.  It was
scarcely begun, however, before the king's strange malady increased
upon him, and after his death his son George IV., who hated Kew, which
was associated with many sad memories for him, decided not to have it
completed.  In 1827 all that was left of it was cleared away, and its
very site is now practically forgotten.

Meanwhile the Dutch House had become even more closely associated with
the royal family than its opposite neighbour.  It was occupied for some
time by Queen Caroline, consort of George II., and in 1781 was bought
by George III. for Queen Charlotte, who brought up her large family in
it, for which reason it became known, first, as the Royal {224}
Nursery, and later as the Princes' House.  It was in it that the
unfortunate king was shut up when he lost his reason, whilst his wife
and children resided in Kew House, and when the latter was pulled down
the Dutch House became the chief suburban residence of the royal
family.  In its drawing-room, fitted up for the occasion as a chapel,
were married, on July 11, 1818, the royal brothers, the Dukes of
Clarence and Kent, the latter the future father of Queen Victoria, who
was born in 1819 in Kensington Palace.  In it, too, on November 1818,
Queen Charlotte died, and from that time the house was comparatively
neglected.  It is still the property of the Crown, is kept in good
repair, and remains a noteworthy example of sixteenth-century domestic
architecture, but it is never likely to be again used as a royal
residence.  On the other hand the gardens connected with it have become
even more beautiful than they were in the time of the Georges.  They
were given to the nation by Queen Victoria in 1841, and since then,
under the able direction of the distinguished botanists Sir William
Hooker, his son Sir Joseph Hooker, Sir W. Thisselton Dyer, and their
successors, they have become not only an endless source of delight to
thousands of sightseers, but also a centre of scientific research.  In
the museums are preserved examples of a vast number of vegetable
products, so that they form, with the infinite variety of growing
plants in the grounds and houses, an all but perfect epitome of botany.
Moreover, until quite recently, the Observatory, situated on the land
filched for a time by George III. from the Richmond {225} Deer Park,
was for many years noted for the good astronomical work done in it, but
unfortunately, though the building is still standing, the savants, who
for so long studied the heavenly bodies from it, have been driven away
by the electric trams running between Brentford and Twickenham, that
caused such an oscillation of the delicate instruments in use that the
accuracy of the observations taken was destroyed.  Kew now knows the
astronomers no more; they have taken refuge in a remote district in
Dumfriesshire, where as yet no tramways disturb their peace, their
departure marking the beginning of a new era for the neighbourhood in
which they worked so long, and where commercial enterprise has won a
complete, though somewhat inglorious, victory over science.

The parish church of Kew, that is still a royal chapel, rises from the
green, on land presented by Queen Anne to the people, and dedicated in
compliment to her to her namesake, the mother of the Virgin.  It was
completed in 1714, and is a fairly good example of early
eighteenth-century ecclesiastical architecture, for though it has been
considerably enlarged, the original style has been preserved.  The
great gallery at the western end was added by George III. for the use
of his large family, and a supplementary chancel, with the mortuary
chapel in which rest the remains of the Duke of Cambridge, youngest son
of that monarch, was completed in 1833.  According to popular tradition
George III. was married in Kew Church to the beautiful Quakeress Hannah
Lightfoot, whom he had wooed {226} and won long before he saw his
future consort, who, it is said, insisted on going through the ceremony
of wedlock again in the same building, after the story of her husband's
relations with her predecessor came to her ears.  However that may be,
the old place of worship is full of memories of the royal family; in it
the blind King George of Hanover, who was born in a house now used as
one of the Herbariums of the Botanic Gardens, was baptized, and there,
many years later, the Duchess of Teck, who resided for a long time in
Cambridge Cottage, still standing on the green, was married to the
father of the present Princess of Wales.  A stained-glass window
commemorates the duchess, and amongst the hatchments on the walls are
two unpretending tablets, one in honour of the portrait painter Johann
Zoffany, the other of the more famous Thomas Gainsborough, both of whom
are buried in the churchyard, the latter, in accordance with his own
instructions, near his old friend Joshua Kirby, who was one of his
first patrons.

[Sidenote: Sheen]

Full of interest as is the history of Kew, it is surpassed in
fascination by that of the neighbouring royal borough of Richmond, so
varied have been the vicissitudes through which it has passed, and so
many are the great names associated with it.  Originally known as
Syenes, and later as Sheen, Richmond was at the time of the Conquest
included in the manor of Kingston, when it was but one of many
riverside hamlets tenanted chiefly by fishermen.  The Anglo-Saxon form
of the word Sheen signifies gleaming or beautiful, and certain lovers
of {227} Richmond have assumed that it was from the first distinguished
above its fellows by its charm, but this is scarcely borne out by
evidence, for the name was in use when the sites of the future
monasteries, palace, and town were still mere waste lands, often under
water, and differing but little if at all from the adjoining districts
up and down stream.

It seems certain that there was a manor-house at Sheen as early as the
beginning of the twelfth century, and in it Henry I. resided for a
short time, probably welcoming there his widowed daughter, Matilda, who
on the death of her husband, Henry V. of Germany in 1126, returned to
England to be accepted at the following meeting of the Witan as
heiress-apparent of her father's kingdom.  The Sheen estate was given
later by Henry I. to a butler in his service named Michael Belet, but
it was not long before it reverted to the Crown, to which it has ever
since belonged.  Edward I. was several times at Sheen, receiving the
Scottish commissioners there in 1300, but the house he occupied was
practically rebuilt and converted into a palace by Edward III., who
often held his court in it, showing princely hospitality to many
distinguished guests before the news of the death of his beloved son,
the Black Prince, broke his heart.  In it, deserted it is said by all
his courtiers, and attended only by a single priest, the once powerful
monarch died in 1377, his unworthy mistress, Alice Ferrers, having,
when she saw the end was near, absconded with all the valuables she
could carry away, including several valuable rings which she had torn
off the fingers of her dying lover.

{228}

When the news of Edward's death reached London, his four surviving sons
hastened down to the palace at Sheen to pay to their dead father the
honours they had withheld from him during the closing years of his
life; but whether the body was taken to Westminster for interment by
road or by river history does not say.  Soon after the funeral Richard
II., then a boy of ten years old, received the formal announcement of
his succession to the throne from a deputation of leading London
citizens, who were received by him and his brother in the great hall,
when the young king became so excited that he could not restrain his
emotion, but kissed his guests all round on both cheeks.  The next day
he left his early home mounted on a white horse and robed in white,
attended by all his great nobles, who also wore white in honour of the
occasion, to make his public entry into his capital.  A few years later
he brought home to Sheen his beloved bride, Anne of Bohemia, and until
her early death he was often there with her, holding regal state and
entertaining hundreds of guests every day.

Considerable additions were made to the royal residence at Sheen by
Richard's orders, and the superintendence of the works was entrusted to
the poet, Geoffrey Chaucer, who had been held in high esteem by Edward
III., that monarch having granted him a pension in 1367, calling him in
the deed of gift 'our beloved yeoman.'  Chaucer became deeply attached
to Sheen, but his connection with it was not a long one, for he
presently fell into disgrace with his employer, who took away all his
official {229} appointments, and though later he was to some extent
restored to favour, the king's love for his riverside home had by that
time been turned to hatred.  In 1394 Queen Anne died at Sheen, and so
great was the grief of her husband, who, for all that, soon married
again, that he ordered the palace to be razed to the ground immediately
after the funeral, a grand and imposing ceremony in which all the chief
nobles of England took part.  Fortunately the royal commands were not
fully carried out, for much of the interesting old building was left
standing, and although it was neglected throughout the remainder of the
reign of Richard II., it was sufficiently habitable in that of Henry
IV. to be used as a residence by his son, the Prince of Wales.  Indeed
Henry V. was from the first very fond of Sheen, and soon after his
succession to the throne he restored and added to the palace,
converting it into what his biographer, Thomas Elmham, called 'a
delightful mansion of curious and costly workmanship befitting the
character and condition of a king.'  Henry VI., who was but nine months
old when his father died, may possibly have been at Sheen as a child,
but the first well-authenticated visit paid by him to the palace was in
1441, when he issued a warrant from it to the sheriffs of the counties
through which his aunt, Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, whose husband
had been Protector of England during his minority, was expected to
pass, giving instructions for her reception.  In 1445, the year of
Henry's marriage to Margaret of Anjou, Sheen Palace was the scene of
many a costly festivity, and ten years later it was to {230} it that
the unfortunate monarch was taken when his constitutional weakness had
developed into positive insanity.  Thence, after his recovery, he went
forth to the fatal battle of St. Albans, at which he was defeated and
taken prisoner by the Yorkists, and there he returned in 1456, when his
mind was again unhinged, whilst his wife, with her beloved son,
withdrew to Chester.  Once more restored to mental health, Henry made a
gallant effort to regain the reins of power, but he never again was
king in anything but name, his palace at Sheen knew him no more, but
before his tragic death in the Tower in 1471 it was twice tenanted by
his hated rival Edward IV.  The latter was there for a short time in
the first year of his reign, and in 1465 he held a brilliant court in
the palace, hoping by his lavish hospitality to reconcile the nobles to
his secret marriage with Elizabeth Woodville, the discovery of which so
alienated the kingmaker, the mighty Earl of Warwick, that he reverted
to the Lancastrian side.  At Sheen the queen's relations were very much
in evidence, and it is said to have been there that her ladies paid her
brother, Anthony Woodville, the compliment of presenting him with a
golden garter embroidered with forget-me-nots.  In 1467 the king gave
the Sheen Palace to his wife, and she often resided in it during her
husband's lifetime, possibly also occasionally in the brief reign of
Richard III., and she probably hoped, after the murder of her sons, to
be allowed to spend her remaining years there, especially as the new
king was her son-in-law, but in this she was disappointed.  Henry VII.
liked the riverside home {231} too much himself, and he lost no time in
confiscating it, ordering the widowed queen to retire to a convent at
Bermondsey, where she died not long afterwards.  [Sidenote: Richmond]
Now began a new era of glory for Sheen, the name of which the king
changed to Richmond, he having been Earl of Richmond in Yorkshire
before he was called to the English throne.  What had hitherto been
really more like a fortress than a palace was greatly enlarged, the
moat which had surrounded it was filled in to make room for the various
extensions, and the new buildings were lavishly decorated.  When the
insurrection headed by Lambert Simnel, the son of an Oxford carpenter,
who claimed to be the heir of the murdered Duke of Clarence, broke out
in Ireland in 1487, Henry called a council of war together at Richmond,
and the following year the Princess Anne of York, fifth daughter of
Edward IV., was the guest of the king in the palace.  In 1492, after
the termination of the war with France, a grand tournament was held
partly in the grounds of the royal residence and partly on the green
between it and the river, 'in the which space,' says the chronicler
John Stow, writing about a century later, 'a combat was holden and
doone betwixt Sir James Parker, knight, and Hugh Vaughan, gentleman
usher, upon controversie for the arms that garter gave to the sayde
Henry Vaughan ... and Sir James was killed incontinently at the first
course, in consequence,' in the writer's opinion, 'of his having worn a
false helmet,' an incident proving how real were the dangers attending
the warlike pageants in which the Tudor sovereigns so greatly delighted.

{232}

In 1497 or 1498 a serious fire broke out in Richmond Palace, and the
greater part of the older portion of the building was destroyed, but
the king at once set a whole army of workmen to repair the mischief,
and in 1501 he was back again in his favourite residence.  There, in
the early autumn of that year, took place the betrothal of his eldest
son, Prince Arthur, with the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella,
Katharine of Aragon, and there, too, in January 1502, was signed the
contract of marriage between the Princess Margaret of England and James
IV. of Scotland that eventually resulted in the union of the two
countries.  Prince Arthur died five months after the wedding, and the
king with unexpected generosity gave up the Richmond Palace to his
widowed daughter-in-law, who, on June 25, 1503, was affianced to his
second son, Henry, heir-apparent of the English throne, who was then
only eleven years old.  Henry VII. appears to have taken possession of
the palace again very soon, for in 1503 he received in it Philip I. of
Spain, who had been shipwrecked off the coast of England, holding great
festivities in his honour.  In 1506 another fire occurred, breaking out
this time in the king's own bedroom, and he narrowly escaped a serious
accident, for a gallery through which he had passed with the young
Prince Henry collapsed just as he was leaving it.  In this case,
fortunately, the damage done was slight, and Henry spent much of the
remainder of his life at Richmond, where he died in 1509, leaving
behind him, it is said, a vast accumulation of treasure hidden away in
secret chambers and cellars.  After solemn {233} services had been held
in the private chapel of the palace, the body was taken by road with
great pomp to be laid to rest in the beautiful but still unfinished
chapel in Westminster Abbey, on which the king had spent fabulous sums
during his lifetime, and for the completion of which he left £1000 in
his will that he made at Richmond three weeks before his death.

Henry VIII. seems to have been at first as much attached to the
Richmond Palace as his father had been.  He spent the first Christmas
after his accession there, and it was in it, on New Year's Day 1511,
that his wife, Katharine of Aragon, gave birth to a son, whose advent
was celebrated throughout the kingdom with extraordinary rejoicings.
The infant on whom so much depended lived, however, but for six weeks,
and his father is said to have looked upon his untimely death as a
judgment on himself for having married his brother's widow.  After the
tragic event the king paid but a few short visits to Richmond, lending
the palace there between whiles to distinguished guests, amongst whom
was the Emperor Charles V. of Germany, who had come to England, in
1533, for his betrothal to the Princess Mary, then only four years old.
That same year Henry leased the Richmond estate to Massey Villiard and
Thomas Brampton for a term of thirty years at an annual rental of £25,
8s., but he evidently considered it still his own private property, for
he made use of the palace whenever it suited his convenience.  In 1526,
for instance, when he had compelled Wolsey to give up to him the newly
{234} completed mansion at Hampton Court, he told the chagrined donor
that he could live in his house at Richmond instead, a privilege of
which the cardinal availed himself but seldom, so great was his
unpopularity in the neighbourhood, the common people, especially those
who had been in the service of Henry VII., bitterly resenting that what
they irreverently called 'a bocher's dogge should be in the royall
manor of Richmond.'  For all that, however, Wolsey received Henry VIII.
as his guest in it in 1528, when the feast of the patron-saint of
England was celebrated with great solemnity in the chapel, all the
companions of the Order of the Garter having been present.  After his
final disgrace the broken-hearted minister paid a last visit to
Richmond, taking up his abode on his arrival as usual at the palace,
but he soon received a peremptory message from his angry master telling
him to withdraw to the Lodge in the Old Deer Park, the history of which
is related below.

In 1535 Anne Boleyn, whose doom was already practically sealed, was for
a short time at Richmond Palace, and, according to some authorities, it
was in a house near by, then owned by Sir George and Lady Carew, that
her successor in the king's affection, Jane Seymour, awaited, on the
fatal 19th of May 1536, the arrival of her royal lover, to whom she had
been married the day before.

[Illustration: THE OLD PALACE, RICHMOND]

It was at Richmond that Anne of Cleves resided whilst the negotiations
were proceeding for her divorce from the fickle king, and when they
were concluded Henry, in his relief at getting rid of the {235} 'Dutch
cow,' as he irreverently called her, gave her the estate for her life.
She became much attached to the palace, and the story goes that the
once hated wife several times entertained the king in it with such
charming hospitality that he nearly fell in love with her.  There was
even at one time a rumour that she had become the mother of a son whose
father was her divorced husband, and it was not until some of the
scandalmongers had been publicly tried and severely punished that
gossiping tongues ceased to wag on the subject.  That Anne did cherish
a hope, when Catherine Howard's influence was waning, of regaining her
position as queen appears certain, but she had the sense soon to
recognise that she had no chance of success, and she lived quietly on
in her luxurious home until the death of Henry, when she had to resign
it to Edward VI.  The latter preferred Richmond Palace to any of his
other residences, and spent as much of his time there as his physicians
would allow; but they considered Hampton Court healthier, and insisted
on his removal there when his health began to fail.  It was at Richmond
that took place, in the young king's presence, in the summer of
1550--some say in his private chapel, others in that of the
neighbouring Carthusian monastery of Jesus of Bethlehem, of which an
account is given below--the marriage of Lord Lisle to Lady Anne Seymour
and that of Robert Dudley, later Earl of Leicester, to the ill-fated
Amy Robsart, who was to pay so dearly for standing in the way of her
husband's courtship of Queen Elizabeth.  That same year Edward VI.
received {236} in the great hall of the palace the French ambassador,
Marshal St. André, who had come from France to invest him with the
order of St. Michael, on which occasion the courtly manners and
generosity of the king completely won the hearts of all his guests.

Queen Mary was at the palace in 1553, and there received the news of
the rebellion headed by Wyatt, which caused her to hasten to London,
where her prompt action saved the situation.  She returned to Richmond
in triumph, and summoned her council to meet her there to discuss the
arrangements for her marriage with Philip II. of Spain, on which she
was determined in spite of the opposition of her subjects.  Her
happiest days were spent in the old palace on the green before she
realised how vain were her hopes of winning her husband's affections
and becoming the mother of an heir to the throne; but after her
husband's return to Spain she took a dislike to Richmond.  When the
Princess Elizabeth was suspected of a plot against her sister's life
she was sent from her prison in the Tower to Richmond Palace under the
care of the stern Sir Henry Bedingfield, and she was so much pleased
with her new place of confinement that she begged to be allowed to
remain there.  It was whilst she was at Richmond that she was offered a
free pardon if she would renounce her claim to the throne and marry the
Duke of Suffolk, but she firmly refused, and was therefore removed to
Woodstock, where she was kept in close confinement, only escaping
condemnation to death by pretending that she had been {237} converted
to Roman Catholicism.  Later, when Mary's fears of her sister's
disloyalty were allayed, and her beloved Philip was once more with her,
a grand entertainment was given at Richmond, at which Elizabeth was
present, and in the summer of 1558 the queen paid her last visit to the
palace, contracting there, it was said, the chill which caused her
death, though, as a matter of fact, she had long been in a critical
condition of health.

With the accession of Elizabeth a fresh era of prosperity began for
Richmond, which was one of the new queen's favourite places of
residence, and to which she often went by water, her magnificent state
barge escorted by a whole fleet of richly decorated boats bearing her
retinue.  In Richmond Palace Elizabeth received many of the suitors for
her hand, including the young Eric IV., King of Sweden, whom she
admitted to some little intimacy, even introducing him to her favourite
astrologer, Dr. Dee of Mortlake, though she never had the slightest
intention of accepting him; and there, too, she carried on a
simultaneous flirtation with the Earls of Leicester and Essex, to the
latter of whom she seems to have been really deeply attached.  Even
after both had passed away she kept up the old traditions, making a
gallant attempt to hide the fact that her heart was broken, for she
wrote love-letters, some of them from Richmond, to the young Lord
Mountjoy; and on one occasion is said to have rewarded a commoner, Mr.
William Sydney, with a kiss as a reward for his sprightly dancing of a
_coranto_ in her presence in the great hall of the {238} palace.  To
the last Elizabeth loved her Richmond home; and it was in its chapel
that she listened, not long before her death, to a sermon from Dr.
Rudd, Bishop of St. David's, on the realistic description of old age in
the 12th chapter of Ecclesiastes, remaining, it is related, apparently
unmoved even when the preacher, with extraordinary want of tact,
referred to her own wrinkles as an example of the ravages of time.  The
discourse over, however, the queen rose, opened a window with her own
hands as if to mark her displeasure, and turning to the doctor told him
he could in future keep his disparaging observations to himself,
adding, 'I see that some wise men are as big fools as the rest.'

According to some authorities it was at Richmond that the aged
sovereign received the news that her beloved Earl of Essex had been
executed, a tragedy she had hoped to have prevented, though she had
signed his death-warrant, by her promise that she would pardon him at
the last moment, however great his crime, if he sent back to her a ring
she had given him.  Unfortunately there is no reliable historical proof
of the truth of the touching story that he did entrust the ring to be
given to the queen to the Countess of Nottingham, who kept it back,
only confessing the truth on her death-bed to Elizabeth, who shook her
violently, declaring that God might forgive her, though she never
would; but there is no doubt that the tragic end of the earl hastened
her own death.  She knew full well that she was doomed soon to follow
her favourite to the grave, and often made covert allusions to her
conviction, as when she {239} said to Lord Howard, 'I am tied with a
chain of iron round my neck, all is changed with me now.'  The last few
months of her life were spent at Richmond, and she passed peacefully
away, after declaring she had no wish to live longer, on March 24,
1603, according to tradition, for which there seems, however, to be no
convincing evidence, in a small room still in existence above one of
the entrance-gates of the palace.  Her body was taken down the river to
Whitehall in the very barge she had so often used in life, and never
again was Richmond the scene of a great historic pageant.  James I.
cared little for his property there, and gave it to his eldest son,
Henry, of whom, as is well known, he was extremely jealous, preferring
that he should not reside at court.

Prince Henry lived much at Richmond, receiving there, in 1606, the
French and Spanish ambassadors, who were both eager to secure for their
respective sovereigns an alliance with him, and during the last few
years of his life he began to form the famous collection of pictures
which is still, after going through many vicissitudes, one of the most
valued possessions of the English royal family.  He was resident at the
palace during the whole of the summer before his untimely death, which
took place at St. James's Palace in 1612, and was, according to his
doctors, the result of over-indulgence in bathing in the Thames.  He
was deeply mourned by the people of Richmond, with whom he was
extremely popular, on account of his genial unassuming manners.  He
left his pictures to his brother Charles, to whom {240} the Richmond
estate was transferred by their father in 1617.  The new owner was
often at the palace before his accession to the throne, constantly
adding to the art treasures in it, and his beloved Steenie was often
his guest there.  It was from it that the two inseparable friends
started in 1623 on their wild expedition to Spain, Charles intending to
woo the Infanta incognito before committing himself to an engagement.
Two months after Charles became king he was welcoming a very different
bride, Henrietta Maria of France, on whom he bestowed the Richmond
Palace as part of her marriage portion; and although they both
preferred Whitehall and Buckingham Palace, the young couple were
several times in residence there before their troubles began.  The
Richmond home was also turned to account as a place of education for
their children, the princesses Elizabeth, Mary, and Anne were there for
some years under the care of the Countess of Roxburgh, and there Anne
died in 1640, from what her doctor called a 'suffocating cataar.'  A
year later her brother Charles was sent to Richmond with his tutor,
Bishop Duppa, by the Parliament that was already at daggers drawn with
his father, and there he enjoyed a time of comparative security and
happiness before he became involved in the doom that overtook his
parents, and started on his weary wanderings as the disinherited heir
of a murdered father.  During the four years' Civil War Richmond Palace
was practically deserted, and in 1647 the pictures in it were taken
down, those likely to spread papal doctrines being burned, and the
others dispersed.  In 1649 a {241} survey of the property was made by
order of Cromwell, when its value was assessed at £10,782, 10s. 2d.,
and shortly afterwards it was sold to aid in raising money to pay the
arrears due to the soldiers of the Parliamentary army.  The greater
part of the historic building was pulled down, and in 1650 what was
left of it was bought by Sir Gregory Norton, who had been one of the
king's judges, and had signed the warrant for his execution.  According
to some authorities Sir Gregory resided in the dismantled mansion until
his death, which took place in 1652, whilst others assert that he was
turned out of it at the Restoration, when he narrowly escaped sharing
the fate of the other regicides.  However that may be, the palace,
hallowed by so many memories, was certainly occupied for a short time
by the widowed queen Henrietta Maria, who actually received in it, as
her guest, the notorious Lady Castlemaine, one of Charles II.'s many
mistresses, who had left him in a fit of temper at a moment's notice.
The story goes that the king joined her at Richmond the next morning,
in the hope of patching up a reconciliation, when he probably had a
stormy interview with his mother, who must indeed have mourned over his
many iniquities, and wondered that all his troubles should have taught
him so little.

The Queen Dowager left Richmond for France, never to return, in 1665,
giving over the palace to Sir Edward Villiers, who two years later
either lent or rented it to a relative of his, Lady Frances Villiers,
who had charge of the three young children of the Duke of York, the
future James II., two of whom, {242} the Dukes of Kendal and Cambridge,
died in 1667.  On the accession of James II., Richmond Palace was given
back to the Crown, but the new king never lived in it, though he sent
his infant son, who was to have such a melancholy career as the
Pretender, to be cared for there.  The child, who was so delicate that
he had not been expected to live, throve in his new surroundings, and
was taken back to Windsor in time to share his parents' flight on the
landing of the Prince of Orange.  After the new revolution the royal
demesne at Richmond was long deserted, William III. and his consort
having paid only flying visits to it.  The Princess Anne, daughter of
James II. by his first wife, who had been very happy there with her
little brothers before their untimely death, begged hard to be allowed
to live in it, but permission was refused, and it was not until the
accession of George II. that it was again used as a royal residence.
The palace was given by him to his wife, Queen Caroline, who built for
the accommodation of the ladies of her court the four substantial
mansions on the west side of the green that are still known as Maids of
Honour Row.  In 1770 Richmond Palace was for a few months the home of
Queen Charlotte, who, as already stated in connection with Kew, had a
great love for the whole neighbourhood.  Since then, unfortunately,
further portions of the grand old mansion, that at one time with its
dependencies occupied ten and a half acres of ground, have been pulled
down, and all that is now left are the entrance gateway--on which,
carved in stone, is the coat of arms of Henry VII.--of what is still
{243} known as the Wardrobe Court, and a portion of the buildings that
once surrounded the latter, which are leased by the Crown to different
tenants, and still bear witness with their ornate internal decoration,
their quaint nooks and corners, and their secret passages, to the good
old days gone by, when they were but a small part of a stately palace,
capable of accommodating hundreds of distinguished guests, that was the
scene of many a courtly pageant and many an exciting intrigue.



{244}

CHAPTER XI

  RICHMOND TOWN AND PARK, WITH PETERSHAM,
  HAM HOUSE, AND KINGSTON

In addition to the many interesting historic memories connected with
its palace, Richmond has associations with a number of important
religious houses, of which, unfortunately, no actual trace now remains,
though their names are preserved in those of certain modern roads.

Henry V., soon after his accession, founded in the Old Deer Park, near
the site of the present Observatory of Kew, a Carthusian monastery,
which he called the House of Jesus of Bethlehem, one of several endowed
by him in expiation for his father's usurpation of the throne, which
may possibly have been in Shakespeare's mind when in his Henry V. he
made that monarch say, 'And I have built two chantries where the sad
and solemn priests still pray for Richard's soul.'

The monastery of Jesus of Bethlehem seems to have been a very imposing
group of buildings, covering several acres of ground, round about which
soon gathered a considerable hamlet that was known as West Sheen.  In
the chapel connected with it {245} continual prayers were offered up
day and night for the soul of King Richard, and within its precincts
was a hermitage called the Anchorites' cell, where dwelt the chaplain,
whose stipend was fixed at twenty marks a year.  The new community
quickly gained a great reputation for sanctity, and its priors were all
men chosen on account of their exceptional holiness, amongst whom the
last, Henry Man, who died in 1536, was specially noted for his earnest
faith, or what would at the present day be considered his credulity,
for he firmly believed in the divine mission of the Holy Maid of Kent,
who had during his term of office a great following of converts, and
paid by her terrible death at Tyburn for her boldness in predicting the
punishment of the king for his divorce of Katharine of Aragon.

[Sidenote: Sheen Monastery]

To Sheen Monastery came Edward IV. and his wife Elizabeth in 1472, to
take part in what was called the 'Great Pardon,' a special dispensation
granted to all who had contributed to the expense of restoring the
buildings, and to it some thirty years later fled Perkin Warbeck in the
vain hope of obtaining sanctuary, for he was dragged from his refuge by
the king's emissaries, by whom he was taken to London to be set in the
stocks, first at Westminster and at Cheapside, before he was sent to
the Tower, where his fellow-conspirator, the young Earl of Warwick, was
already imprisoned.

It was at Sheen that the education of the future Cardinal Pole was
begun, he having been sent there at the early age of seven.  He
remained under the care of the monks for five years, and returned to
{246} them in 1525 for two years of prayerful seclusion before the
beginning of his long struggle with Thomas Cromwell over the question
of the king's divorce.  The memory of the saintly Dean Colet is also
inseparably connected with the House of Jesus of Bethlehem, for some
little time after his foundation of St. Paul's School, he built for
himself a house on land acquired from the brethren, to which he
withdrew when he felt his end approaching, passing peacefully away in
it in 1519.

According to an old but not well-authenticated tradition, the dead body
of James IV. of Scotland was brought to Sheen for interment after the
fatal battle of Flodden Field, remaining in the monastery, however,
unhouselled and unassoiled, though protected from decay by being wrapt
in lead amongst a quantity of lumber in an upper chamber until 1552--a
date, by the way, long after the dissolution of the religious
houses--when it was found by some workpeople, who cut off the head to
give it to a glazier in Queen Elizabeth's employ, and buried the rest
of the remains.  In 1539 the monks of Sheen wisely evaded the penalties
of resistance to the high-handed proceedings of Henry VIII. by
voluntarily surrendering their property to him, and although later
Queen Mary reinstated them in their old home, they were again banished
by her successor.  Meanwhile the monastery had been occupied, first by
Edward, Earl of Hertford, brother of Jane Seymour, to whom the estate
had been granted by her husband, and later by the father of Lady Jane
Grey, Henry, Duke of Suffolk, after whose {247} death on the scaffold
in 1554 it reverted to the Crown, by whom it was leased to successive
tenants, passing in 1675 to Lord Brouncker and the more celebrated
diplomatist and historian, Sir William Temple, the former taking
possession of the Priory, the latter of a smaller house near by.  It
was to Sir William Temple that were addressed the famous love-letters
of Dorothy Osborne, who when she became his wife lived with him in what
he called his 'little corner at Sheen,' sharing his interest in the
cultivation of his gardens, which became celebrated far and near for
the vegetables and fruit grown in them.

It was at Sheen that Jonathan Swift, who was for some years secretary
to Sir William Temple, first met his beloved 'Stella,' Hester Johnston,
who was born on the estate, and is said to have been the daughter of
its owner.  Whether this be true or not, her education was entrusted by
Sir William to Swift, and it was to her that the latter addressed the
_Journal_, which is considered one of his most remarkable works.  Soon
after his accession to the English throne, William III., who had seen a
good deal of Sir William Temple when the owner of the 'little corner at
Sheen' was ambassador at the Hague, offered him the post of Secretary
of State, and though the appointment was declined, the king used often
to ride over from Hampton Court to stroll about in the Sheen gardens,
when he and his host would discuss together, now affairs of vital
importance to the kingdom, now the best soil in which to grow different
varieties of fruit.  Swift {248} was generally in attendance at these
meetings, and is said to have been taught by the royal guest how to
cook vegetables in the Dutch style.  Possibly little Hester, still a
mere child, may have shared the royal instructions, that were continued
at Moor Park, to which her reputed father withdrew in 1689, giving over
the Sheen home to his only surviving son, John Temple.  After the death
of the new tenant, who had been made Secretary for War, but committed
suicide four days afterwards in despair of being able to cope with the
onerous duties of his office, Sir William took a great dislike to his
once beloved property, and never again visited it.  Meanwhile Lord
Brouncker had passed away, and after changing hands many times, the
monastery buildings, as well as the house that had been owned by Sir
William Temple, were pulled down in the early eighteenth century, with
the exception of one gateway belonging to the former, which was still
standing in 1769, when it too was removed, because it interfered with
the so-called improvements being made by George III. on his Kew estate.
The hamlet, that owed its existence to the monastery, was also swept
away, but its name is preserved in those of the suburb of East Sheen,
the road leading to it and one of the gates of Richmond Park, near to
which, amongst the many modern villas that have recently sprung up,
still remain some few stately old mansions, notably that known as
Temple Grove, that was once the home of Sir John, brother of Sir
William Temple.

The House of Jesus of Bethlehem was not the {249} only monastery
founded at Sheen by Henry V., for he also endowed a home for some
French monks of the Celestine order, but it was hardly completed before
he sent the inmates back to their own land and confiscated the
property, because he discovered on a surprise visit he paid them that
his name was not mentioned in their prayers.  Later, Edward II. built a
convent at Sheen for Carmelite, and Henry VII. one for Observant
friars, but the career of both was short, for the former was soon
removed to Oxford and the latter was suppressed in 1534, though a
building near the palace was long known as the Friary, whilst the
memory of what must have been a very important community is still
preserved in the names of Friars' Lane, leading down to the river, and
Friar Stile Road in Upper Richmond.

[Sidenote: Richmond Lodge]

The house in which Dean Colet passed away, that was confiscated with
the rest of the monastery estate by Henry VIII., became known as the
Lodge, and it was to it that Cardinal Wolsey was ordered to withdraw,
as related above, on his last sad visit to Richmond.  It was later
successively leased to various tenants, and granted in the early
eighteenth century to James, Duke of Ormond, who rebuilt or greatly
added to it, residing in it till his impeachment in 1715, when it
passed to his brother, the Earl of Arran, who sold it to the Prince of
Wales, later George II., who was living in it with his wife, the
Princess Caroline, when in 1727 the news of the death of his father was
brought to him by Sir Robert Walpole.  The new king gave the Lodge to
the queen, who spent a great deal of money on it, {250} laying out the
grounds in a lavish fashion, and causing many extraordinary buildings
to be erected in them, including a fantastic structure known as
Merlin's Cave, a hermitage, a grotto, and a dairy.  It was in this
beloved retreat that Sir Walter Scott in his _Heart of Midlothian_ laid
the scene of the interview between Jeanie Deans and Queen Caroline that
he prefaces with an eloquent description of Richmond Hill as it then
was, and the inimitable view from it.  After the death of Queen
Caroline the Lodge was deserted for some little time, and in 1760 her
grandson, George III., pulled it down, destroyed the beautiful terrace
overlooking the river, and had the grounds ploughed up to add them to
the grazing-grounds of his sheep and cattle, leaving not a trace of a
home that was once as favourite a royal residence as the palaces of
Richmond and Kew, though the Old Deer Park in which it stood, where
archery, hockey, and other open-air competitions are now held, still
seems to be haunted by the spirits of those who lived in it.

[Sidenote: Richmond Town]

Of the many other fine old mansions that were long the pride of
Richmond, few, alas, now remain.  Gone, for instance, is Fitzwilliam
House that fronted the green, in which George II. was the guest of Sir
Matthew Decker on the day when he was proclaimed king, and where its
noble former owner formed the priceless collection of rare books,
illuminated missals, etc., bequeathed by him to Cambridge and preserved
in the Fitzwilliam Museum.  Vanished, too, is the famous 'High walk' or
'terras on arches' that stretched from where the Vicarage now {251}
stands to one of the entrances to the grounds of the Lodge, and was a
favourite promenade of the frequenters of the Richmond spa, which
enjoyed a brief popularity in the early eighteenth century, as is also
the humble group of houses known as Poverty Court, that were at one
time occupied by some of the poorer members of the nobility.  The great
block of buildings erected in 1798 on part of the site of the old
palace by the Earl of Cholmondeley, that later became associated with
the notorious Earl of Queensberry, familiarly called 'Old O.,' in which
the Prince of Wales, later George IV., and Mrs. Fitzherbert, the Duke
of Clarence, later William IV., and Horace Walpole were amongst the
many distinguished guests, was pulled down in 1830 and replaced by the
modern villa that bears its name, though it is but a poor
representative of its predecessor.  Fortunately, however, between the
fine bridge that replaced the ancient ferry in 1774 and Petersham,
still stand facing the river and preserving much of the character of
days gone by, several noteworthy survivals of the royal borough's palmy
days, including the picturesque Bridge-House built by Sir Robert Taylor
in the middle of the eighteenth century; the so-called Trumpeter's
House, also known as the 'Old Palace,' a characteristic Queen Anne
building with a pretentious porch, that owes its singular name to two
figures of trumpeters that used to stand on either side of the
entrance, Ivy Hall, the residence of William IV. when Duke of Clarence;
Gothic House, long the home of the cultivated Madame de Staël-Holstein,
daughter {252} of the astute French minister Necker; and Buccleuch
House, where Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, with many other members
of the royal family, were the guests of the then owner in June 1844 at
an open-air fête, when the river presented a scene almost as brilliant
as in the days of Henry VIII. or Elizabeth.

Fortunately, the general aspect of Richmond Green, that when the palace
was occupied by royalty was the scene of many a brilliant pageant, and
later of many a hotly contested game of cricket, in which the chief
experts of the day took part, is but little changed from what it was
two centuries ago.  Its wooden palings have been replaced by iron ones
bearing the monogram of William IV., and the old sundial that long
occupied its centre has been removed, but its limits have not been
curtailed.  It has a delightful old-world look about it, and there is
nothing incongruous with it in the new buildings of the Free Library,
or in the modern theatre associated with the name of Edmund Kean, who
was at one time its lessee, that replaces, though on another site, the
eighteenth-century building in which David Garrick and Mrs. Siddons are
said to have acted, and that was the successor of a yet earlier one
founded by the poet-laureate Colley Cibber.  The narrow alleys leading
from the town to the time-honoured Green are also thoroughly in keeping
with it, and here and there a venerable red-brick mansion amongst the
more modern buildings surrounding it redeems the ancient borough from
the commonplace.  The parish school and dust-bin, {253} with the open
refuse-heap that long occupied the site of the present crescent; the
old watch-house that looked down upon them, with the adjacent pound and
stocks, have all been improved away; but the houses of Heron,
originally Herring Court, named probably after a former owner, in one
of which Lord Lytton was often the guest of his brother, those in
Ormond Road where dwelt the poetess Mrs. Hofland, Lichfield House, now
the residence of the novelist Mrs. Maxwell (Miss Braddon), and Egerton
House opposite to it, still strike the note of the past, that echoes
also in the poetic name of the district known as the Vineyard,
recalling the days when vines flourished on the slopes of Richmond
Hill, and the almshouses of Sir Richard Wright and Bishop Duppa--both
founded in the seventeenth century, though the latter was only
transferred to its present site in 1852--received their first inmates.
No longer do the shouts of the bargemen, who used to be harnessed to
their crafts in groups of eight, tout for hire in Water Lane, and the
quaint cry 'Man to horse!' by which their customers hailed them, clash
with the shrill horn of the stagecoach that started for London twice a
day, but at the junction of the Lane with King Street still stands part
of the ancient Feather's Inn, once a noted place of resort of the _beau
monde_, and not far from it is the little old-fashioned shop known as
the Maid of Honour, because in it were sold the celebrated cakes
bearing that name.  Passed away, leaving no trace, however, are the
Blue Anchor, Black Boy, and Queen Anne's inns, but near the {254}
summit of the famous hill, looking down upon the river, is the fine
residence called Cardigan House, once the property of the earl whose
name it bears, in the grounds of which is the medicinal spring near to
which was erected in 1696 a place of entertainment called Richmond
Wells, that was very much frequented until in 1696 the property was
bought by two straight-laced maiden ladies named Houblin, who quickly
put a stop to the gay gatherings that used to assemble in the theatre
by having it pulled down.

[Sidenote: Richmond Hill]

Beyond Cardigan House are the beautiful public gardens occupying the
site of Lansdowne House and part of the Buccleuch estate that were laid
out after the designs of Sir Frederick, later Lord Leighton, and were
opened in 1866, and a little higher up on the brow of the hill is the
world-famous terrace, the view from which has been eloquently described
again and again in poetry and prose, and has been made the subject of
many a well-known painting.  With Petersham Wood and village and the
winding river in the foreground, it embraces the valley of the Thames
as far as Windsor Castle, that can be distinctly seen on a clear day,
and the distant Surrey hills varying in character with the season of
the year, but ever full of fascination and inspiration to those who are
able to appreciate its charm.  Again and again the public have been
threatened with the loss of the unique privilege of enjoying this
unrivalled prospect, now one, now another of its exquisite details that
has fallen into the market having been marked for {255} destruction by
the speculative builder, but in almost every case rescue has come
sometimes at the very last moment by the intervention of some generous
individual who has snatched the prey from the destroyer, as when in
1900 Sir Max Waechter bought the beautiful Petersham Ait or Glovers
Islet and presented it to the Richmond Corporation.  On the river side
of the famous terrace are two massive-looking eighteenth-century
mansions that, but for the memories associated with them, would be
better away, known as the Wick, occupying the site of the Bull's Head
Tavern and Wick House, the latter, though now considerably altered,
originally designed by Sir William Chambers for Sir Joshua Reynolds,
who lived in it for some years, receiving there many of his celebrated
sitters, and more than once painting the view from its windows.  At the
end of the terrace--nearly opposite the entrance to Queen's Road, named
after Queen Caroline, that was a century ago a mere muddy thoroughfare
called Black Horse Lane--is the famous Star and Garter Hotel, that
occupies the site of several earlier buildings, two of which were
destroyed by fire.  The first inn of the name--that commemorates the
Earl of Dysart, a knight of the noble Order of Chivalry founded by
Edward III., who owned the ground on which it stood--was built in 1738,
and was but one of several hostelries dotted about near what was then
known as the High Walk on the Green, amongst which was possibly a
predecessor of the one opposite the picturesque modern Wesleyan
College, named after {256} the Lass o' Richmond Hill, about whom there
has been so much amusing controversy, but whose identity has never yet
been satisfactorily determined, some saying that she was Mrs.
Fitzherbert, who at one time lived on the terrace, others that she was
Lady Sarah Lennox, one of several ladies to whom George III. paid court
before he married Queen Charlotte, whilst a few north-country sceptics
declare that she was a rustic beauty of the Yorkshire Richmond.

It was not until the early nineteenth century that the Star and Garter
began to gain the exceptional celebrity it still enjoys, but since
1838, when it was occupied by Louis Philippe, who was visited in it by
the young Queen Victoria, it has been associated with the names of many
illustrious guests, including the Princess Lieven, the widowed Queen
Amelia, the ill-fated Archduke Maximilian, and the Duc d'Aumale.

[Illustration: RICHMOND FROM TWICKENHAM FERRY]

Opposite to the Star and Garter is Ancaster House, soon, alas, to be
replaced by residential flats, named after the Duke of Ancaster, from
whom it was purchased by Sir Lionel Darrell, the favourite of George
III., who gave to him a portion of the park, marking it off himself
with his riding-whip, when he complained that he had not room for the
hothouses he wished to build.  In one of the large mansions facing the
famous view lives Sir Frederick Cook, who owns a fine collection of
paintings of the old masters, and a house in the adjacent Downe Terrace
occupying part of the site of Bishop Duppa's almshouses referred to
above, was the {257} home at one time of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and
later of Mrs. Ewing, the daughter of Mrs. Gatty.

[Sidenote: Richmond Town]

The parish church of Richmond, dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene,
replaces one of four ancient chapels that belonged to the Abbey of
Merton.  Its tower, a massive square structure, that has been again and
again restored, is of much earlier date than the rest of the building,
which has been several times added to.  The general effect is not,
however, inharmonious, and there is a simple dignity about the
interior, that contains a number of interesting memorials of noted
inhabitants of the royal borough, including a sixteenth-century brass
to Robert Cotton, who was in the service of Queen Mary and Elizabeth,
and one to Lady Dorothy Wright, who died in 1631.  In the chancel is a
monument to Lord Brouncker, who was cofferer to Charles II., and on the
walls of one of the aisles are sculptures by Flaxman to the memory of
the Rev. Mark Delafosse and the Honourable Barbara Lowther.  The
inscriptions to Mrs. Yates the great tragic actress, Lady Diana
Beauclerck, the Rev. George Wakefield, Mrs. Hofland, and Edmund Kean,
all of whom rest in the churchyard, are also noteworthy, but they are
all surpassed in interest by the tablet commemorating the famous poet
James Thomson, who lived for many years and died in 1748 in a cottage
known as Rosedale, in the Kew Foot Road, that was later enlarged and
now forms part of the Richmond Hospital, it having been bought by the
Corporation in 1869.  As is well known, Thomson greatly loved the
scenery near his home, often {258} referring to its charms in his
poems; he wrote the _Seasons_ in his garden, in a summer-house now
destroyed, where he often received his fellow-poets Leigh Hunt and
Pope, and the actor Samuel Quin, who once rescued him from a
sponging-house into which he had drifted through his carelessness in
money matters.  Thomson was buried in the churchyard of the parish
church, but when the latter was enlarged the new wall passed over his
resting-place, which is near the brass tablet put up to his memory by
Lord Buchan, at the west end of the north aisle, that bears the
following inscription: 'In the earth below this tablet are the remains
of James Thomson, author of the beautiful poems entitled the _Seasons_,
the _Castle of Indolence_, etc., who died at Richmond, August 27, and
was buried here August 29, 1748, O.S.  The Earl of Buchan, unwilling
that so good a man and so sweet a poet should be without a memorial,
has denoted the place of his interment for the satisfaction of his
admirers in the year of our Lord 1792.'

Beneath this sentence, that naively couples the name of its author with
that of a man far greater than himself, is a quotation from Thomson's
exquisite _Winter_ that may well be given here, so typical is it of its
writer's deeply reverent spirit:--

  'Father of Light and Life!  Thou God supreme,
  O teach me what is good, teach me Thyself!
  Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
  From every low pursuit, and feed my soul
  With knowledge, conscious Peace and Virtue prove
  Sacred, substantial, never-fading Bliss!'

{259}

[Sidenote: Richmond Park]

Next to its fine position on a very beautiful reach of the Thames, the
chief glory of Richmond--a glory shared, however, by five other
parishes, Petersham, Ham, Kingston, Putney, and Mortlake--is its noble
park, known as the New or Great Park, to distinguish it from the one
that was connected with the palace.  It comprises two thousand acres of
charming undulating scenery, grand oak woods and plantations of other
trees alternating with fern-clad dells and dales, in the midst of which
are the picturesque Pen Ponds, so called because they are near the
enclosures for the deer.  From certain points, especially from the
terrace between the Richmond Hill gate and the entrance to the grounds
of Pembroke Lodge, just within which is a memorial to Thomson, grand
views are obtained of the Thames valley with the river winding through
it, whilst from the rising ground on the other side of the park the
buildings of London and the twin heights of Highgate and Hampstead can
be distinctly seen.

Originally part of a vast tract of uncultivated land known as Sheen
Chase, of which Ham and Sheen Commons are relics, the Great Park was
first enclosed in 1637 by Charles I., who had a lofty wall, ten miles
in circumference, built round it, and stocked it with the red and
fallow deer the descendants of which add so greatly to its attractions,
thus converting it without any legal justification into a new
hunting-ground for his own pleasure.  This high-handed proceeding,
involving as it did the appropriation of much private property, aroused
{260} bitter opposition at the time, not only from the actual owners of
the confiscated estates, but also from Archbishop Laud, Bishop Juxon,
and Lord Cottington, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, who espoused the
cause of the common people, their privileges of collecting firewood and
turning their cattle out to graze having been interfered with.  The
result of the remonstrances of this powerful trio was that the king,
though he would not yield up a yard of the ground he had so unfairly
seized, ordered the provision, for the use of foot-passengers, of small
gates and step-ladders, the latter of which was situated where the
Coombe entrance, still known as the Ladder Gate, now is.  Moreover,
Charles granted to his ranger, in addition to the use of a house called
Harleton Lodge, the site of which has not been identified, the right of
pasturage for four horses, and allowed owners of carriages to drive
through the park on payment of certain fees.

[Illustration: RICHMOND PARK WITH THE WHITE LODGE]

After the execution of the king, Parliament granted the park to the
City of London, but on the Restoration it reverted to the Crown, to
which it has ever since belonged.  The rangership became a much coveted
office that was held at different times by distinguished statesmen,
including Sir Robert Walpole, who did much to improve the property, and
built the famous old lodge that was pulled down in 1837.  In 1751 the
appointment of ranger was given to the Princess Amelia, who made a very
bad stewardess, for she treated the estate as her own private property,
shutting out the public {261} entirely, and rendering herself so
obnoxious that she was at last compelled to resign.  She was succeeded
by the Earl of Bute, and since his time the various restrictions to the
enjoyment by outsiders of the beautiful park have been gradually
removed, so that now all are free to wander at will amongst the woods
and vales, or along the meandering Beverley Brook, to watch the grazing
deer, that are no longer hunted, and to listen in the early spring to
the songs of the nightingales or the harsh cry of the herons as they
sweep down from their lofty nests to fish in the Thames.  There are now
six public carriage entrances to the park, and within its precincts are
several old mansions standing in private grounds that are associated
with interesting memories, amongst which the most famous is White
Lodge, built by George II., and added to by the Princess Amelia, that
was long the home of the Duchess of Kent, mother of Queen Victoria, and
later that of the Duke and Duchess of Teck, parents of the present
Princess of Wales, whose eldest son, the heir after his father to the
English throne, was born in it.  Close to Sheen Gate is a cottage once
occupied by the famous naturalist Sir Richard Owen, and in Pembroke
Lodge, once known as the Mole-Catchers, that was lent by George II. to
the Countess of Pembroke, after whom it is named, the famous Prime
Minister Earl Russell lived for some years and died.  In the grounds of
the Lodge are two mounds, one now called Henry the Eighth's, and marked
in the oldest extant map of the park as the King's Standinge, {262}
because the much-married monarch was long erroneously supposed to have
watched from it for the signal that Anne Boleyn's head had fallen; the
other known as Oliver's Mount, because of the equally unfounded
tradition that Cromwell looked down from it on a battle between the
king's forces and his own, though exactly where the apocryphal battle
took place is not suggested.

[Sidenote: Petersham]

Between Richmond and Kingston is the still charmingly rural-looking
village of Petersham, set down in beautiful scenery, for it is
protected on the north and east by the park named after it and Ham
Common, and is divided from the river by the famous meadows, that will
never be built over, known as Ham Walks, beloved of the poet Gay and of
his patroness the old Duchess of Queensberry, the 'Kitty' whose praises
were sung by him and by Pope and Swift, and who lived in a river-side
mansion that was later occupied by Lady Douglas.

Referred to as Patriceham or Peter's Dwelling in Doomsday Book, the
hamlet of Petersham was for several centuries a dependency of St.
Peter's Abbey at Chertsey, and its quaint little sixteenth-century
church, that has a picturesque turret surmounted by a low spire,
probably occupies the site of a much earlier building, relics of which
may possibly have been incorporated in the chancel that is much older
than the nave.  In the little sanctuary, that can only hold three
hundred worshippers, and is soon to be supplemented by a far more
imposing-looking building now (1907) nearing completion, {263} rest the
remains of George Cole and his wife, whose house and grounds were
amongst the properties confiscated by Charles I. for enclosure in the
Great Park, and the church also contains a monument to the great
navigator Captain George Vancouver, who is buried in the churchyard.
There, too, rest Theodora Jane Cowper, the 'Delia' immortalised by her
famous poet cousin, and the Misses Berry, the friends of Horace
Walpole, who in their lifetime enjoyed some little reputation as
authoresses, and resided in the neighbouring Devonshire House, that was
also at one time the home of Lady Diana Beauclerck.

Adjoining Petersham is the little village of Ham, the history of which,
though it is not mentioned in Doomsday Book, can be traced back to
before the Conquest, its manor having been given by King Athelstan to
his chief alderman, Wulgar.  Until quite recently a mere hamlet of
scattered cottages, Ham is now growing into a populous suburb, but it
still owes its chief distinction to its association with the celebrated
Ham House, which is, however, really in Petersham parish, and
represents the home of the Saxon thane Wulgar.

A characteristic Jacobean mansion, with fine avenues of trees leading
up to the Petersham and riverside entrances, Ham House was built in
1610 by Sir Thomas Vavasour, and after changing hands several times it
became the property of the noble Dysart family.  It was long the home
of Elizabeth, Countess of Dysart, in her own right, who was one {264}
of the most beautiful and accomplished women of her time, and played an
important part in the Civil War.  Twice married, the second time to the
Duke of Lauderdale, she is said to have won all hearts, even that of
the stern, unbending Cromwell, and when her husband was taken prisoner
after the battle of Worcester she went herself to plead his cause with
the victorious general.  Later, when the duke had become the leading
spirit of the Cabal Ministry, Ham House was the scene of many of its
meetings, and allusions to it are frequent in the contemporary press,
notably in the journal of John Evelyn, who under date 27th August 1678
penned an enthusiastic eulogy on it.  In the autumn of that year John
Campbell, grandson of the lovely Countess of Dysart, who was to become
known as the great Duke of Argyll, was born in it, and throughout his
chequered career he retained a great affection for it.  He died in 1743
in the neighbouring Sudbrook House (now a hydropathic establishment),
that was his favourite residence when he was in England.

Charles II. is said to have taken refuge in Ham House on one occasion
when fleeing for his life from his enemies, narrowly escaping capture,
and his brother James II. was to have been sent there after his
deposition in 1688, but he pleaded so earnestly against it, declaring
it to be a cold and comfortless place in the winter, that he was
allowed to go to Rochester.  In the eighteenth century the reputation
of Ham House as one of the most beautiful seats near London was fully
maintained, in spite {265} of the carping criticism to which it was
subjected by Horace Walpole, one of whose nieces had married its owner,
the Earl of Dysart.  Queen Charlotte was a frequent visitor there, and
later William IV. was often the guest of the famous Lady Dysart, who
died at a great age in 1840.  Since then the time-honoured building has
been little altered, and to the art treasures accumulated by its early
owners have been added many fine paintings by Sir Joshua Reynolds,
Hoppner, Vandyck, and other great masters.  It remains one of the very
few historic mansions on the Thames that have escaped destruction, and
those who now own it have given many proofs of their respect for its
traditions.

[Sidenote: Kingston]

To pass from Richmond, Petersham, and Ham, that still bear the
unmistakable impress of the past, to modern Kingston and its suburbs
Surbiton and Norbiton, is to enter a different world, so completely has
the ancient city, which is referred to in a charter of King Edred
bearing date 946 as the 'royal town where kings are hallowed,' been
transformed since the days when the Saxon kings were crowned in it,
sitting on the stone still preserved in a railed-in space opposite the
Courthouse.  There, as inscribed upon the venerable relic, Athelstan,
Edmund, Edred, Edgar, Edward the Martyr, Ethelred II., and Edmund
received their crowns; there the national councils assembled; and there
took place the tragic scenes between Dunstan and the young king Edwy,
whom the archbishop dared to follow to the chamber of his bride,
[OE]lgifa, an intrusion the newly wedded wife never forgave, and {266}
that had much to do with her bitter hostility to her husband's adviser.
In 1200 the reluctant King John was compelled to give the citizens of
Kingston their first charter, and in the royal town Henry III. was
defied in 1264 by the turbulent barons in the once formidable castle,
the very site of which cannot now be determined.  Into Kingston, in
1472, marched Falconbridge with fifty thousand men in pursuit of Edward
IV., whose tenure of the throne was still insecure, to find the bridge,
the only one that then spanned the river above the City of London,
broken down, so that he was obliged to return by the way that he had
come; and at Kingston many years afterwards, the ill-fated Katharine of
Aragon, then a happy-hearted girl of sixteen, halted for a night on her
way to be married to Prince Arthur, elder brother of the second husband
who was to treat her so cruelly.  In 1554 the doomed Sir Thomas Wyatt,
in arms against Queen Mary, secured a temporary success by crossing the
river at Kingston on a bridge of boats, and in 1647 the old town was
for some months the headquarters of General Fairfax in command of the
Parliamentarian troops.  There a year later the last stand was made
under the Earl of Holland of the Royalists, who were cut to pieces,
their leader falling after a desperate resistance against fearful odds.
Since then Kingston has enjoyed a long spell of peace and security, but
it has lost the distinction that belonged to it in those days of
unrest, retaining but very few survivals of the past.  Its parish
church, one of {267} the largest in England, was founded in the early
thirteenth century, but it has been almost completely modernised, part
of its tower and the southern aisle of the chancel being all that are
left of the original structure.  It contains, however, some interesting
monuments, notably the altar-tomb of Sir Anthony Benn, who died in
1618, and a seated marble statue of the Countess of Liverpool by
Chantrey, with several fine brasses, including that to Robert Skern and
his wife Joan, daughter of Alice Ferrers, and according to tradition of
Edward III., and that to John Hertcombe and his wife, who died in 1477
and 1478.

[Illustration: THAMES DITTON]

A few old houses in the market-place are all that now remain of the
many mansions that were once the pride of royal Kingston, but its fine
situation on the Thames preserves to it something of the distinction it
enjoyed for so long.  It is, moreover, in touch with much beautiful
Surrey scenery and within easy reach by water of many picturesque
riverside villages, such as Thames Ditton, much frequented by boating
men and anglers, and East Molesey on the junction of the Mole with the
Thames opposite Hampton Court, a favourite resort of holiday-makers in
the summer, when the towing-path is lined with gaily decorated
house-boats and pleasure-crafts of great variety are constantly passing
up and down stream.



{268}

CHAPTER XII

RIVERSIDE MIDDLESEX FROM FULHAM TO HAMPTON COURT

[Sidenote: Fulham]

Although unfortunately much of the romantic beauty that for centuries
distinguished riverside Middlesex has gone for ever, there still remain
here and there picturesque survivals of the long-ago, recalling the
days when it rivalled its opposite neighbour, Surrey, in rural charm.
Some fifty years ago indeed, even Fulham, now indissolubly linked with
London, was a country place, with market gardens sloping down to the
Thames, and fishermen's cottages dotted here and there upon its banks.
The manor of Fulham was given in the seventh century by the Bishop of
Hereford, to whom it then belonged, to the holy St. Erkenwald, Bishop
of London, and its history has ever since been intimately bound up with
that of the Church in southern England.  The ancient manor-house, that
was long the favourite residence of St. Erkenwald's successors, is now
represented by the palace, the older portion of which dates from the
fifteenth century, it having been built by Bishop Fitzjames, whose arms
surmount the gateway.  In it lived for some time Bishop Ridley, who,
with the equally {269} famous Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester,
suffered death at the stake at Oxford in 1554, for their heretical
opinions, and the no less steadfast Bishop Bonner, who was deprived of
his see for refusing to take the oath of supremacy that meant the
recognition of Queen Elizabeth as the head of the Church.  To
Fitzjames's building Bishop Fletcher, father of the famous dramatist,
made considerable additions, including the present library, at one time
used as a chapel, that contains with many valuable manuscripts and
books a number of interesting portraits, such as those of Archbishop
Sandys and Bishops Ridley and Juxon.

Early in the eighteenth century the greater part of the palace at
Fulham was pulled down, and it was not until 1764 that the river front
was rebuilt.  The present chapel was added in 1869 by Bishop Tait,
later Archbishop of Canterbury, and from time to time minor alterations
have been made, the new and the old having, however, been so skilfully
dovetailed together that the group of buildings with their encircling
moat present a very harmonious general appearance.  The ancient parish
church, the date of the foundation of which is unknown, to which the
charming Bishop's Walk leads from the palace, has also been reverently
treated, the necessary restorations having been made with considerable
care.  In the well-kept churchyard rest many bishops and other
celebrities, including Theodore Hook, the talented but dissipated
novelist, who died in poverty and debt in 1841; and here and there
amongst the sea {270} of modern villas and rows of shops that make up
the Fulham of to-day are a few old homesteads that still serve to keep
the past in some slight degree in touch with the present.  This is
especially the case in the district of North End, where in a mansion
now divided into two houses Samuel Richardson wrote _Clarissa Harlowe_
and part of _Sir Charles's Grandson_, and where in residences that
cannot now be identified lived at different times W. Wynne Ryland, the
famous line-engraver who was hanged for forgery in 1783, Dr. Crotch,
the musical composer, Edmund Kean, Mrs. Delaney, Jonathan Swift, and
Jacob Tonson.

[Sidenote: Hammersmith]

Even more Londonised than Fulham is its neighbour Hammersmith, the
situation of which, however, on a picturesque reach of the Thames, that
is here spanned by a suspension bridge, still preserves to it a certain
charm.  The seventeenth-century church, if not architecturally
beautiful, is in harmony with its surroundings, and though the famous
Brandenburg House, in which Queen Caroline passed away, and the ancient
manor-house of Pullenswick, later known as Ravenscroft, at one time the
home of Alice Ferrers, the heartless mistress of Edward III., have both
been pulled down, the Dove Coffee-house, in which, in a room
overlooking the river, Thomson wrote his beautiful poem of _Winter_,
remains much what it was when it was one of the favourite haunts of the
poet and his kindred spirits, Leigh Hunt, who lived in a little cottage
hard by, and Pope, who often came down from his villa at Twickenham for
{271} a friendly chat.  On what is known as the Lower Mall lived many
celebrities when it was the fashionable quarter of Hammersmith,
including the clever engineer Sir Samuel Morland, the trusted friend of
Charles II.; Arthur Murphy the dramatist, Philip de Loutherbourg the
artist, Charles Burney the Greek scholar, and greater than them all,
the poet Coleridge; whilst in the adjoining Upper Mall, now destroyed,
Queen Catherine, the neglected wife of Charles II., resided for some
years after the death of her fickle husband.  Later the celebrated Dr.
Ratcliffe, who attended Queen Anne, had a house near by, next door to
which lived the scarcely less noted non-juring Bishop Lloyd of Norwich.
Long a centre of Roman Catholicism, Hammersmith at one time owned an
important Benedictine convent, in which during the French Revolution
many fugitive nuns from France took refuge, and part of the ancient
buildings are now used as a college for priests; whilst the nunnery
itself may be said to be represented by the modern Nazareth House, the
headquarters of the devoted Little Sisters of the Poor.

Strange to say, though Hammersmith has all but lost in the rush and
hurry of the present the impress of the past, its neighbour Chiswick
has to a great extent retained its old-fashioned character.  True, it
has lost many of its ancient mansions, such as Chiswick Hall, long a
favourite summer residence of the masters of Westminster School, and
the quaint Red Lion Inn with the whetstone chained to the lintel of the
door, beloved of artists {272} and poets, has been improved away; but
fortunately the house in which Hogarth lived for some years and died
has been preserved, and Chiswick House, long the seat of the Dukes of
Devonshire, now a private lunatic asylum, is still much what it was
more than a century ago.  The venerable cedar-trees and antique statues
in its grounds, with the noble entrance gateway designed in 1625 by
Inigo Jones for Beaufort House, and given by Sir Hans Sloane to the
owner of the estate in 1738, preserve to it even at this late day
something of a classic and aristocratic character.  Built between 1730
and 1736, on the site of an earlier Jacobean mansion, by the last Earl
of Burlington, who enjoyed some little reputation as an architect
during his lifetime, Chiswick House was greatly enlarged by his
successor, who was fond of holding open-air fêtes in its gardens, which
were almost as celebrated as those at Kew, and were for some years
under the care of the distinguished botanist, Sir Joseph Paxton; but
the mansion itself is now chiefly celebrated for the fact that in it
the two great statesmen, Charles James Fox and George Canning, passed
away, strange to say, in the same room, the former in 1806 the latter
in 1827.

[Illustration: STRAND ON THE GREEN WITH KEW BRIDGE]

The Chiswick Mall, practically a continuation of that of Hammersmith
though divided from it by coal wharves, etc., with its charming views
up and down stream, a picturesque eyot rising from the middle of the
river opposite to it, and the tower of the venerable parish church
looking down upon it, is still one of the most delightful promenades on
the {273} Middlesex side of the Thames.  The church, fitly dedicated to
St. Nicolas, the patron-saint of fishermen, who still form a notable
portion of the congregation, is a somewhat uninteresting modern
successor of a very ancient foundation, but it fortunately retains, in
addition to the tower, a few relics of the original nave and chancel,
with several noteworthy monuments, including one to Charles Holland,
the actor, erected by his friend David Garrick, and many inscriptions
to the memory of celebrities who once lived in Chiswick, such as Mary,
Countess of Falconbridge, and her sister Frances, daughters of Oliver
Cromwell, and the famous beauties, Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland, and
Margaret Cecil, Countess of Ranelagh; whilst in the churchyard rest the
artists Hogarth, Philip Loutherbourg, and James M'Neill Whistler, whose
mother is buried beside him; the engravers William Sharp and James
Fittler, the diplomatist Lord Macartney, and the Italian patriot Ugo
Foscolo.

[Sidenote: Strand-on-the-Green]

Connecting Chiswick with Brentford, and keeping up, as it were, the
continuity of the traditions of the past, is the picturesque terrace of
quaint old houses known as Strand-on-the-Green, extending for about
half a mile along the banks of the river, which at high tide often
invades it, washing over the defences that have been from time to time
put up against it.  Until about the beginning of the eighteenth century
Strand-on-the-Green was but part of a fishing hamlet, but it gradually
became transformed into a fashionable quarter, stately, well-built
houses--in one of which lived the poet David Mallet, in another {274}
the artist Zoffany, and in another Joe Miller the jester--contrasting
with picturesque cottages, such as the charming group still standing
that were given to the poor in 1724 by a generous citizen, and rubbing
shoulders with ancient inns, some of which are but little altered even
now, and are frequented as of yore by fishermen and boatmen.

[Sidenote: Brentford]

From Strand-on-the-Green the view of the Thames is no less fascinating
than that from Hammersmith and Chiswick Malls, for even at low tide,
when gleaming stretches of mud line the banks on either side, the
colour effects are charming.  Higher up, too, where the little river
Brent--that with the Brentford Canal forms part of a great system of
inland waterways--flows into the Thames, a touch of poetry still
lingers, in spite of the fact that the once beautiful village named
after the ancient ford has become one of the most prosaic of the
Middlesex suburbs.  The three-arched bridge that spanned the Brent a
little above its mouth, at which a toll used to be levied on all cattle
and merchandise and all Jews and Jewesses crossing it on foot or on
horseback, though Christians were allowed to pass over free, is
replaced by a modern one with but one arch; the house in which the
notorious Noy, chancellor to Charles IL, decided on the re-imposition
of the hated ship-tax has been pulled down; the ancient market-hall,
with its high-pitched roof, that had been the scene of many a hotly
contested election, and in which resounded during the riots of 1769 the
cry of 'Wilkes and Liberty!' was pulled down in 1850 to make way for
the present {275} town-hall, and a little later its fate was shared by
the famous half-timbered hostelry of the Three Pigeons, that may
possibly have been visited by Shakespeare when it was tenanted by one
of the actors in his company, John Lowen.  Vanished, too, is the house
in which John Bunyan lived at the beginning of his crusade against vice
in high places; but here and there, in what is still known as the Half
Acre district, that is intimately associated with the memory of the
author of the _Pilgrim's Progress_, and also in the modern High Street,
a few ancient tenements, with lofty, many-gabled roofs, survive to bear
witness to olden times.  Moreover, about half a mile from what is now
known as New Brentford, though it is really more venerable than the
rest of the town, is another link with the past: Burton House, a
mansion occupying the site of the manor-house of Burston, or Budeston,
that belonged before the suppression of the monasteries to St. Helen's,
Bishopsgate, and was later owned by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.

[Illustration: THE CANAL, BRENTFORD]

Brentford has more than once figured conspicuously in the history of
England.  Near to it, for instance, King Edmund Ironsides defeated the
Danes in 1016, and in it a few days after the victory the gallant Saxon
king was treacherously murdered.  More than six hundred years later the
town, then at the zenith of its prosperity, was besieged by Prince
Rupert, and the parliamentary garrison driven out with great loss; but
all too soon, in the opinion of the inhabitants, who were staunch
partisans of the king, the tide turned again.  Reinforcements {276}
arrived from London and encamped on the then open space of Turnham
Green; Charles, who had started from Kingston to join Prince Rupert,
was compelled to draw back, and presently Oliver Cromwell himself,
fresh from victory, marched through Brentford in triumph.

After the Restoration Charles II. was several times in Brentford.  Nell
Gwynn is said to have lived there for some little time, as did also
George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, a member of the infamous Cabal
Ministry, who was the first to celebrate in literature the two kings of
Brentford, whom he introduced in his comedy of the _Rehearsal_, a
parody on one of Dryden's tragedies written in 1671.  Who these kings
were when they lived, or even if they ever existed, neither tradition
nor history has attempted to prove, but in the _Rehearsal_ they figure
as close friends, who appear on the stage hand in hand, and reign
amicably together till they are deposed by two equally united usurpers.

Brentford owns two important churches, one dedicated to St. George,
founded in 1770, with nothing very distinctive about it but containing
a painting of the Last Supper by Zoffany, presented by the artist; the
other, named after St. Lawrence, built in the eighteenth century on to
the tower of a much earlier place of worship.  Chancellor Noy, whose
house was close by, is buried in it, and it is associated with the
memory of John Horne Tooke, who was curate of it from 1760 to 1773,
before his meeting with John Wilkes led to his abandonment of the
clerical profession.

{277}

As the chief marketing-place of the barge population, whose women, in
their picturesque sun-bonnets and rough-and-ready costumes, may often
be seen hurrying through its streets, the old town on the Brent is
still to some extent in touch with rural England; but from the adjacent
Ealing, that is its parent parish, and from its dependencies Acton and
Gunnersbury, all individual character seems to have been eliminated,
little remaining to recall the days when the manor-house of Ealing was
one of the outlying residences of the Bishop of London, and the whole
neighbourhood was dotted with the country seats of the great nobles.
Acton, the name of which signifies the oak-town, now a singular
misnomer, was once the proud owner of a fashionable spa, but is now
chiefly given over to washerwomen; and Gunnersbury, the history of
which can be traced back to Saxon times, for it is named after Gunyld,
a niece of King Canute, has lost nearly all its historic landmarks,
though the modern Gunnersbury House, on the site of a mansion designed
by Inigo Jones, once occupied by Princess Amelia, preserves to it a
certain distinction.

[Sidenote: Greenford Parva]

Very different from Brentford, Ealing, Acton, or Gunnersbury is the not
distant Greenford Parva, that, though it is scarcely more than eight
miles from Hyde Park Corner, is still, and seems likely to remain, one
of the most secluded-looking spots in suburban Middlesex.  Romantically
situated in the valley of the Brent in the midst of beautiful meadows,
the hamlet of Greenford Parva, the name {278} of which, now condensed
into Perivale, is said to signify the green ford in the pure vale,
consists of but a few farms and cottages, but it prides itself on the
possession of a church of its own, a quaint little building of unknown
dedication, uncertain date, and doubtful style, with a narrow nave, a
yet smaller chancel, in the south-west corner of which is a tiny
hagioscope, and a square wooden tower, surmounted by a low spire.
Within this primitive structure, one of the smallest places of worship
in England, is an old font, the lid of which bears the date 1665, and
some very ancient stained glass has been skilfully dovetailed into the
comparatively modern windows.

[Illustration: PERIVALE CHURCH]

About two miles away from Perivale, in the same valley, is the scarcely
less interesting Greenford Magna, also named after a ford on the Brent.
Given by King Ethelred to the monks of the ancient monastery that
preceded Edward the Confessor's foundation at Westminster, the manor of
Greenford Magna remained the property of the latter until the
dissolution of the monasteries, when it was confiscated by Henry VIII.,
by whom it was given somewhat later to the see of London, to which it
still belongs.  Its fourteenth-century church, dedicated to the Holy
Cross, occupies the site of a Saxon chapel, and greatly resembles that
of Perivale in style.  It was well restored in 1871, when some of the
fifteenth-century glass was successfully incorporated in the new
windows, and it contains several well-preserved sixteenth and
seventeenth century brasses.

{279}

[Sidenote: West Twyford]

Rivalling the two Greenfords in the romantic beauty of its situation is
the little hamlet of West Twyford (so called to distinguish it from the
comparatively commonplace village of East Twyford in the neighbouring
parish of Willesden), situated partly on the Brent and partly on the
Paddington Canal, at a spot where the river makes a very sudden bend.
As its name implies, there were in ancient times two fords across the
Brent that, according to tradition, were much used by the monks of the
monastery that occupied the site of the mansion now known as Twyford
Abbey, though there is absolutely no historic proof that any religious
house ever existed there.  A moated manor-house there certainly was,
however, which was pulled down early in the nineteenth century, and
there seems little doubt that on the site of the barn-like church of
uncertain date was a much earlier chapel--possibly Norman--the property
having been held in the eleventh century by the Dean and Chapter of St.
Paul's, who may have owned a clergy-house for the officiating priests.
Strange to say, the little sanctuary, now included in the see of
London, after changing hands with the manor to which it was attached
again and again, long occupied the position of belonging to no parish.
It was apparently overlooked when the new ecclesiastical survey was
made, and until quite recently it had no incumbent, the owner of
Twyford Abbey paying for the services held in it, and when he let his
house stipulating that his tenant should provide a clergyman for six
Sundays in the year.

{280}

[Sidenote: Sion House]

Within easy reach of Brentford, in the neighbouring parish of Keston,
is Oesterley Park, with the famous mansion named after it built by Sir
Thomas Gresham, founder of the Royal Exchange, who more than once
entertained Queen Elizabeth in it, and which was later owned by the
wealthy London merchant, Sir Thomas Child, whose son Robert added two
sumptuously decorated wings to it, and formed the nucleus of a fine
collection of pictures by the old masters.  More interesting than
Oesterley House is the celebrated Syon or Sion House, standing in a
charming park between Brentford and Isleworth, and occupying the site
of a convent of the same name that belonged to a community of
Brigittines, a branch of the Augustinian Order founded by St. Bridget
of Sweden.  This was one of the religious houses endowed, as already
related in connection with Richmond, by Henry V. in expiation of his
father's usurpation of the English throne, the foundation-stone having
been laid by the king himself in 1431.  It was originally situated in
Twickenham, but soon became far too small for the accommodation of the
many holy women who craved admission, and Henry VI. sanctioned the
removal of the nuns to a larger house in Isleworth parish, the
possession of which was secured to them by Act of Parliament.  When or
by whom the predecessor of the present Sion House was built is not
known, but it is supposed to have been erected at the expense of the
Brigittines themselves, who had been joined by many wealthy ladies, and
it eventually became one of the richest religious {281} communities of
southern England.  Many stories are told of the devotion of the
sisters, and also, alas! of the decline of piety amongst them as time
went on, rumours having even been circulated of gross misconduct
amongst them.  These were probably, however, mere idle tales purposely
spread about by enemies; but there is little doubt that the downfall of
the community was hastened by its abbess's espousal of the cause of the
so-called Holy Maid of Kent, against whom Henry VIII. was bitterly
incensed.  In any case, Syon Monastery was one of the first of the
great religious houses to be suppressed, and it was turned to account
by the king in 1541 as a prison for Catherine Howard whilst her mock
trial was going on.  By a strange irony of fate her husband's body
rested in the chapel--in which she had often prayed during the last few
days of her life--on its way to be interred at Windsor, and, according
to a gruesome tradition, blood suddenly flowed from it, a proof in
popular belief that the queen had been unjustly condemned, and that
Henry was indeed her murderer.

The nunnery of Sion and the manor of Isleworth were given by Edward VI.
to the Protector Somerset, who at once pulled down the conventual
buildings, using the materials for the foundation of the present
mansion, that was still uncompleted when its owner's career was cut
short by his attainder for high treason.  The property then reverted to
the Crown, and in 1553 it was given by the young king to John Dudley,
Duke of Northumberland, who had been mainly responsible for the
downfall of the Protector.  The {282} duke seems to have finished the
work of his predecessor, for soon after he took possession of Sion
House his son, Lord Robert Dudley, brought home to it his bride, the
ill-fated Lady Jane Grey; and it was there that the crown was offered
to her on the death of Edward VI.  Thence the nine days' queen started
by river in a state barge, attended only by a few adherents, on her
fatal journey to the Tower, whence four months later she was led forth
to execution, after having looked down from her window on the mangled
remains of her husband as they were being carried away to their last
resting-place.

After the death on the scaffold of the Duke of Northumberland Sion
House once more reverted to the Crown, and Queen Mary gave it back to
the Brigittines, but few of them cared to return to their transformed
old home; and two years later even those few were driven forth again by
Queen Elizabeth, who lent the house first to one and then another of
her favourites.  In 1604 the estate was granted by James I. to Henry
Percy, Earl of Northumberland, who nearly lost it through his
complicity in the Gunpowder Plot, for which he suffered many years'
imprisonment and had to pay a fine of £11,000.  He returned to Sion
House only a short time before his death, bequeathing it to his son,
Algernon Percy, who was made guardian of the children of Charles I.,
the Dukes of York and Gloucester and the little Princess Elizabeth, who
died the year of her father's execution.  The royal prisoners, for such
they were, appear to have been very happy in their Isleworth retreat,
for they were {283} often allowed to go and see their father at Hampton
Court, and it was not until they were taken to London to bid him
farewell, just before his death, that they realised how terrible was
their own position.

By the marriage between Lady Elizabeth Percy and Charles Seymour, Duke
of Somerset, Sion House became the property of the latter, and during
his ownership it was lent for a time to the Princess Anne, later Queen
of England, who there gave birth to a son who lived for an hour only,
one of her seventeen children, none of whom grew up.  The son of
Charles Seymour gave Sion House to his daughter Elizabeth in 1748, and
her husband, Sir Hugh Smithson, having been created Duke of
Northumberland, it passed back to the old earldom, and has ever since
remained in the same family.  It was the new duke who gave to the
historic mansion the character that now distinguishes it, for he made
considerable alterations and additions, entrusting the work to the then
renowned architect, Robert Adam, who is said to have consulted Sir
Horace Walpole, then living at Twickenham, on the subject of the
internal decorations.  The gardens, originally laid out by the
Protector Somerset, and greatly improved by later owners, were still
further enriched with rare plants; hothouses and conservatories were
built, and the estate was converted into one of the most charming on
the Thames, beautiful lawns, shaded by venerable trees, sloping down to
the waterside.  The massive quadrangular mansion, with a square tower
at each corner, and a noble {284} parapet, the eastern front surmounted
by the venerable stone lion, the badge of the Percy family, that was
long a familiar figure on the Strand front of the now demolished
Northumberland House, rises up in quiet dignity from the park which,
though it has none of the varied scenery of its rival at Richmond, is
full of quiet charm.

[Sidenote: Marble Hill]

In addition to Sion House Isleworth still owns a few historic mansions,
including Gumley House, named after a seventeenth-century owner;
Shrewsbury House, once the home of Charles Talbot, Duke of Shrewsbury,
both now convent schools; and Kendal House, long a noted place of
entertainment, the last some little distance from the river, on the
road to Twickenham.  The church, said to have been designed by Sir
Christopher Wren, though his plans were modified to save expense, is
finely situated on a terrace looking down upon the Thames, and a wooded
islet, presenting quite a picturesque appearance, especially when
barges and other craft are waiting to be taken up or down stream by the
tide.  A little above Isleworth is the half-lock that has added so
greatly to the usefulness of the upper river as a highway of traffic,
and also to the healthiness of the districts on either side by keeping
the mud constantly under water.  Looking down upon it on the Middlesex
side is the somewhat uninteresting suburb of St. Margaret's, occupying
the site of the seat of the Marquis of Ailsa; and a little higher up
stream is the beautiful park called Marble Hill, after the mansion
still standing on it, that was bought in 1903 for the use of the public
by the London {285} County Council, aided by many private subscribers,
including Sir Max Waechter, already mentioned in connection with the
purchase of Petersham Ait.  Marble Hill mansion is supposed to have
been built in 1723 by Mrs. Howard, one of Queen Caroline's
ladies-in-waiting, later Countess of Suffolk, after the designs of Lord
Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, on a portion of the grounds of the
neighbouring Orleans House, half the expense having been borne by
George II. when he was still Prince of Wales.  In laying out the
grounds the owner had the benefit of the advice of Pope, then living at
Twickenham, and also of Dean Swift, at that time in the service of Sir
William Temple at Sheen, who is said to have prophesied that Mrs.
Howard would certainly be ruined by her lavish outlay.  That she was
not is proved by the fact that she died at Marble Hill, leaving a
fortune behind her; and later her old home was occupied by Mrs.
Fitzherbert, who is said by some authorities to have been married in it
to the Prince of Wales, later George IV., though others assert that the
ceremony took place in her house in Park Lane.  However that may be,
she was certainly at her riverside home in 1795 when the wedding of her
lover with the Princess Caroline of Brunswick took place, and she there
held a little court of those loyal friends who believed in the legality
of her union to the king.

[Illustration: ISLEWORTH]

Most picturesquely situated opposite the famous Petersham meadows and
the no less celebrated Eel Pie Island, the resort on summer evenings of
hundreds of pleasure-seekers, Twickenham, the {286} name of which is
supposed to have reference to the two streams that here flow into the
Thames, was originally a hamlet of Isleworth that belonged, before the
Conquest, partly to a monastery at Hounslow, and partly to the monks of
Christchurch Abbey, Canterbury.  On the suppression of the monasteries
the property was added by Henry VIII. to the Hampton Court demesne; and
later Charles I. gave the manor to Queen Henrietta Maria, to whom,
after its temporary alienation by Parliament, it was restored on the
accession of Charles II.  The so-called manor-house of Twickenham, also
known as Aragon Tower, occupies the site of an earlier building in
which, according to tradition, Katharine of Aragon resided after her
divorce; but the home of the Saxon owners of the property is supposed
to have been in Twickenham Park, now built over, some authorities
asserting that William the Conqueror himself lived in it for a short
time.  Whether this be true or not, there was not far from the first
Sion House a mansion that belonged in the later sixteenth century to
Lord Bacon, who entertained Queen Elizabeth in it in 1592.  The
brilliant prose writer was deeply attached to his Twickenham home, and
grieved greatly when in 1601 he was compelled to sell it to meet his
pressing necessities, receiving, it is said, only £1800 for it.  During
the next three centuries it changed hands again and again, and in 1803
its owner had it pulled down and sold the estate in plots for building.
Its fate was later shared by many another historic home, but Cambridge
House, named after the poet Richard {287} Owen Cambridge, who occupied
it for some years in the early nineteenth century, Orleans and York
Houses still remain to bear witness to the days when Twickenham was an
aristocratic suburb.  The former is named after Louis-Philippe, who
occupied it for some time when he was Duke of Orleans; the latter was
for some time the property of Lord Clarendon, who settled it on his
daughter, Anne Hyde, when she became the wife of James, Duke of York;
and in it were born the Princesses Mary and Anne, who were both to
become Queens of England.

A little higher up stream is a modern villa popularly known as Pope's,
though as a matter of fact the house beloved of the poet, on which he
lavished a fortune, was pulled down in 1807, and all that now remains
to recall the time of his ownership is the subterranean passage leading
from its grounds to the Teddington Road, that was once lined with an
ornate shell grotto.  It is fortunately far otherwise with the equally
celebrated home of Horace Walpole, known as Strawberry Hill, that
stands a little back from the river between Twickenham and Teddington,
for though certain details have been modified it still retains the
general appearance it presented when first completed by its owner.
Originally a mere cottage, the future Strawberry Hill was bought by
Walpole in 1747 from a certain Mrs. Chevenix, and the best years of the
famous letter writer's life were spent in superintending its adornment.
The guests he received at Twickenham included pretty well all the
celebrities of the day, {288} and his most important publications were
issued from his private printing-press there.  When on the death, in
1791, of his eldest brother's only son, he became Earl of Orford, he
refused to take the title, preferring to remain plain Horace Walpole of
Strawberry Hill; and before his death, which took place six years
later, he bequeathed his beloved home to the sculptor Mrs. Damer in the
hope that she would respect its traditions.  In 1811 it became the
property of the Dowager-Countess of Waldegrave, and since then it has
changed hands several times, passing through various vicissitudes of
neglect and restoration.

[Sidenote: Twickenham]

The parish church of Twickenham must have originally been a very
picturesque feature of the village, and the ancient battlemented tower
still presents a charming appearance from the river; but on to it was
built, in the early eighteenth century, a barnlike red-brick structure
that harmonises very ill with it, and is said to have been designed by
Sir Godfrey Kneller, then churchwarden, who lived in a house near
by--still known as Kneller Hall, now the Royal Military School of
Music--and is buried beneath the central aisle, his contemporary Pope
resting not far from him.  Amongst the monuments in the church is one
erected by the latter to the memory of his parents, which Lady Kneller
tried in vain to persuade the poet to remove after the death of her
husband, to make room for a memorial she wished to put up in his
honour; and on the outer wall are some interesting tablets, including
one to the famous comic actress Kitty Clive, who lived {289} in a
cottage belonging to Horace Walpole called Little Strawberry Hill,
later occupied by the Misses Berry, to whom it was bequeathed for their
lifetime, and one to the beloved nurse of Pope, bearing the following
touching inscription: 'To the memory of Mary Beach, who died November
25th, 1725, aged 75, Alexander Pope, whom she nursed in his infancy,
and constantly attended for twenty-eight years, in gratitude to a
faithful servant, erected this stone.'

Little now remains in the populous modern suburb of Twickenham to
recall the days when Dickens wrote in it his romance of _Oliver Twist_,
certain scenes of which are laid at Isleworth, and the great artist
Turner lived in Sandelcombe Lodge, that was recently sold by auction,
fetching £865, but the view up and down stream is still practically the
same as it was a century ago.  The short reach between Strawberry Hill
and Teddington Lock is one of the most beautiful on the Thames,
charming alike when deserted but for a few barges being quanted slowly
along, and when crowded with pleasure craft.  Specially fascinating are
the scenes that take place below the lock, when electric launches,
skiffs, and punts, full of gaily dressed women and men in boating
costume, await their turn for the opening of the gates; at the Rollers,
and in the quiet pool above them, specially beloved of fishermen, that
contrasts forcibly with the noisy weir, the foam-flecked rush of water
forming a striking background to the groups of yachts and wherries
moored to the Middlesex bank and beneath the Suspension Bridge.

{290}

It is to its lock and its near vicinity to Bushey Park and Hampton
Court that Teddington owes its ever-increasing prosperity.  In Saxon
times, when its name--the meaning of which is obscure, for the
suggestion that it signifies the Tide-end Town is untenable--was spelt
Totyngton, it was a mere hamlet of Staines, yet the honour of having
been its original manor-house has been claimed for three mansions, each
of which is said to have served as a hunting-lodge to Queen Elizabeth.
Only one of these is still standing, that built by Lord Buckhurst some
years after the maiden queen had passed away; and the more famous
residences at one time occupied by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester,
and the noted Quaker William Penn, who in 1688 dated his protest
against being called a Papist from Teddington, have also been pulled
down; whilst of the parish church, in which the latter may often have
worshipped, the only relic is the sixteenth-century southern aisle, the
rest of the building dating from the eighteenth century.  It contains,
however, a few interesting monuments, including one to the faithful
servant of Charles I., Sir Orlando Bridgman, who represented his doomed
master at the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht; and on one of the walls
is a tablet to the memory of the famous beauty, Peg Woffington, who,
after her tragic breakdown when acting as Rosalind in 1757, retired to
Teddington, where she died three years later.

[Illustration: BUSHEY PARK]

[Sidenote: Bushey Park]

The riverside scenery above Teddington, especially near the long
picturesque island opposite Thames Ditton, is very charming, and away
from {291} the water is the beautiful Bushey Park, that rivals in
popularity even its neighbour of Hampton Court.  Long jealously
reserved for the use of its royal owners, the estate, which is more
than eleven hundred acres in extent, has been open to the public since
1752, when a certain Timothy Bennet, a local shoemaker, succeeded, by
dint of dogged persistence, of winning a free passage through it for
ever, or, to be more strictly accurate, in obtaining the restoration of
ancient rights that had been filched away.  The story goes that Bennet,
who, as he sat at work in his shop, had been in the habit of watching
the number of pedestrians who passed through the park on their way to
and from Kingston, was moved to bitter indignation when he learned that
the gates had been closed by order of the ranger, Lord Halifax.  He
consulted a lawyer, declaring that he would gladly spend all his
savings, which amounted to about £700, to win back the old privilege,
and was told that all that was needed was for him 'to try the right.'
A notice was therefore served on the ranger, who summoned Timothy
before him, thinking to overawe him easily, but the shoemaker's rough
eloquence so won upon the great man that the latter, in spite of all
the opposition of the lawyers on the side of the Crown, ordered the
road through the park to be reopened, and it has never since been
closed.

The chief glory of Bushey Park is the triple avenue of horse-chestnuts,
more than a mile long, that was planted by William III., who longed to
reproduce in England some of the characteristics {292} of his native
land.  When in full bloom the trees present an appearance of unique
beauty, crowds from far and near flocking to see them, but even at
other times the park is full of charm, forming one of the most
delightful recreation-grounds near London.  The rangership, long a
coveted appointment, was at one time held by Lord North, the minister
whose fatal policy brought about the American War of Independence; and
later the Lodge, a substantial red-brick building near the Teddington
entrance, was the residence of William IV. when Duke of Clarence.

The twin villages of Hampton Wick and Hampton, the former below, the
latter above, the riverside grounds of Hampton Court, have little that
is distinctive about them in spite of their exceptionally beautiful
situation, looking down upon the Thames, which is here dotted with
picturesque islets.  Hampton Wick prides itself on having been for some
years the home of the famous essayist Sir Richard Steele, who dated
from what he called his hovel in it the dedication of the fourth volume
of _The Tatler_ to Lord Halifax, first ranger of Bushey Park, and
builder of the Lodge referred to above.  Hampton glories in still
owning the house beloved of David Garrick, who often withdrew to it for
rest between 1754 and 1779, receiving in it as his guests Horace
Walpole, Dr. Johnson, and many other distinguished men, whom he used to
entertain with night-fêtes in the grounds.

[Sidenote: Hampton Court]

In Hampton Court the romantic interest of outlying London may perhaps
be said to culminate, for {293} no other place within easy reach of the
capital is associated with quite so many thrilling memories, or has
retained, in spite of all alterations, an equal number of the
characteristic features of its evolution.  In the quiet courts and
cloisters overlooked by the picturesque gables and turrets of Wolsey's
building, and in the beautiful gardens in which the anxious minister so
often paced to and fro pondering over the many problems that harassed
him, his spirit still seems to linger; the magnificent hall of Henry
vili., in which took place so many stately banquets and gorgeous
ceremonies, and the richly decorated chapel in which two of the
despotic monarch's marriages were solemnised, appear to be haunted by
the ghosts of his murdered wives, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, and
of the scarcely less ill-fated Jane Seymour, who paid with her life for
the birth of the long-desired heir to the throne, and is said to be
unable to rest in her grave because of her remorse for having been the
cause of the execution of her predecessor.  Now the young monarch,
Edward VI., and his stern guardian, the Protector Somerset, loom forth
from the dim past, and behind them the imagination conjures up the
shadowy form of Mrs. Penn, who on the death of the infant prince's
mother was chosen to be his nurse, and was greatly beloved not only by
him, but by his father and sisters.  Henry VIII. gave her an estate in
the country, but she attended her foster-son wherever he went, and
after his early death she resided in apartments reserved to her at
Hampton Court, till she too passed away.  She was buried in {294} the
parish church of Hampton, a full-length recumbent effigy portrait
surmounting her tomb, that is still preserved in the modern Gothic
building replacing an earlier place of worship; but her grave has been
rifled of its contents, and since the desecration took place she has
been supposed to haunt her old rooms, and many have asserted that they
have seen her groping along in them with outstretched hands as if
seeking for some lost treasure.  To these phantoms succeed those of
Edward's melancholy sister Mary and of her sombre bridegroom Philip,
who repells her ardent expressions of affection with forbidding
coldness, the ill-assorted pair in their turn giving place to the
stately maiden queen Elizabeth and her train of richly garbed
courtiers, all vying with each other in their eagerness to prove their
devotion to her person.  Again the scene changes, and the hapless
Charles I. comes forth, closely attended by his guards, to walk for the
last time round the precincts of the palace that has served as his
prison, where but a little later his arch-enemy, Cromwell, was to reign
supreme.  Now a wedded pair as ill-assorted as Philip and Mary, Charles
II. and the childless Catherine of Braganza, hold their court in the
historic building, that was in the reign of William III. to be enlarged
and redecorated, assuming much the appearance it now presents, for the
Georges did little to alter it, and it has not been used as a royal
residence since 1795.

In the time of Edward the Confessor the manor of Hamntone, as it was
then called, was owned by {295} the Saxon Earl Algar, and in the
Doomsday Survey it is referred to as the property of the Norman, Walter
de St. Valeric, its value being assessed at £39.  It remained in the
possession of the same family for a century and a half, after which it
passed to Henry de St. Albans, who either presented or let it to the
Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, then one of the most
powerful religious communities of Europe, by whom it was held until
1514, when the then prior, Sir Thomas Docwra, granted a ninety-nine
years' lease of it to 'The Most Rev. Father in God, Thomas Wolsey,
Archbishop of Canterbury,' at a yearly rent of £50.  Before that
all-important event in its history, however, the property had become
greatly increased by gifts of land and money, and was already known as
Hampton Court, the word court signifying, as is sometimes overlooked,
merely that part of an estate in which the owner lives.  That the
Knights Hospitallers had a residence of some importance is proved by
the fact that they occasionally received as their guests various
members of the royal family, who, as early as the fourteenth century,
showed a great predilection for Hampton.  Many pilgrims, too, flocked
from long distances to worship in the little chapel connected with the
priory, that was credited with special sanctity, and to it in 1503 came
Elizabeth of York, wife of Henry VII., to pray for the safe delivery of
her expected child, and to spend a quiet week in retreat before
returning by water to Richmond, where she died a month later.

The Knights Hospitallers had scarcely left their {296} old home before
the new owner began to pull it down, to make way for a building which
he determined should rival in magnificence every other private
residence in the kingdom.  The grounds of the ancient manor-house,
hitherto mere grazing lands, were converted into a park and enclosed
within a massive red-brick wall bearing here and there a cross in black
bricks, the emblem of the cardinal-archbishop, two or three of which
still remain in spite of Henry VIII.'s orders, given as soon as he took
possession of the property, that every trace of its having once
belonged to the fallen minister should be removed.  The site of the
future palace and its gardens was encircled by a deep moat, traces of
which can be made out on the northern side, an elaborate system of
drainage was established, and a constant supply of pure water secured
from the springs at Coombe Hill, three miles away, Wolsey proving
himself far in advance of his time in his knowledge of sanitary
science.  The healthiness of his retreat thus secured, the work of
building went on apace, a whole army of surveyors, architects,
builders, and masons, etc.,--from amongst whom emerge the names of
James Bettes master, Lawrence Stubbs paymaster, Nicolas Tounley
comptroller of the works, and the Rev. Mr. Williams decorator,--toiling
continuously under the superintendence of Wolsey himself, who was able
to receive the king and queen for the first time in May 1516, when the
royal party were entertained with all manner of pageants, masques, and
mummeries, in some of which Henry himself took a prominent part.

{297}

The next few years were the happiest in the cardinal's life.  He was
still the king's most trusted servant, the master of boundless wealth,
and no shadow from the melancholy future had as yet fallen across his
path.  Whenever he was able to get away from London, he hastened to his
beloved home at Hampton, on which he continued to lavish vast sums of
money, constantly adding to its art treasures, and causing his own
apartments--several of which, including that known as his closet,
remain as they were when occupied by him--to be decorated by the best
artificers of the day.

It is, unfortunately, impossible now to determine the exact limits of
Wolsey's buildings, but they appear to have occupied much the same area
as those now standing, which include the additions of Henry VIII. and
William III., so that they form a kind of epitome of domestic
architecture from Tudor to Renaissance times.  It is certain, however,
that the west front and the utter or outer court with the clock tower,
beneath which are the cardinal's arms in terra-cotta that somehow
escaped Henry's jealous zeal, were entirely the work of Wolsey, and it
must have been at the western gateway that he received his many royal
and noble guests.  At which date this beautiful residence was
transferred by its builder to his exacting sovereign, who from the
first seems to have greatly coveted it, is not known, but it is
generally supposed to have been in 1525 or 1526 that the oft-told
incident occurred, when Henry asked Wolsey why he had built himself so
magnificent a house, to which with outer calmness but a sinking {298}
heart the cardinal replied, 'To show how noble a palace a subject may
offer to his sovereign.'  The gift was of course at once accepted, but
the doomed minister was allowed to remain practically master of Hampton
Court for some time longer, as proved by the fact that in 1527 he there
received with great magnificence the French ambassador and his retinue,
and that in 1528 he invited Archbishop Warham to spend a few days with
him.  As late, indeed, as 1529 Henry and Katharine of Aragon were again
his guests, but before the year was over he had left his beloved home
for ever.  In August of that year the king took formal possession of
the palace, accompanied not only by the queen, but by Anne Boleyn, for
whom a beautiful suite of rooms had been set apart which she had long
since chosen.  Very soon the appearance of the palace was completely
transformed, Henry's chief desire having apparently been to destroy
everything that could remind him of the man he had once loved so well
and trusted so entirely.  A magnificent new hall with a beautiful
hammer-beam roof replaced the one in which Wolsey had so often
entertained his ungrateful master, a new chapel, new galleries, and new
suites of apartments were built, the work going merrily on in spite of
all the exciting events that were taking place in the rest of the
palace.  Hampton Court soon knew Katharine of Aragon no more, and Anne
Boleyn, who had given birth in it to a still-born son, was succeeded by
Jane Seymour, the change of queen making no difference in the daily
routine, though the king gave orders for the initials A.B. to be {299}
changed to J.S. in the decorations of his wife's private apartments.
Edward VI. was born, and his mother died in 1537, the former event
being made the excuse for fresh expenditure on rooms for the infant
prince, whilst the latter affected the widower but little, though he
left Hampton Court before the funeral, declaring that he could not bear
to be present at it.  For some little time after the death of Jane
Seymour the palace served chiefly as a nursery for the heir to the
throne, and in 1540 Anne of Cleves resided in it for a short time
whilst contentedly awaiting her divorce; but as soon as it was obtained
she withdrew to Richmond, and the king brought home to Hampton Court
his new bride, Catherine Howard, who really seemed likely long to
retain his affection.  From their beautiful riverside home the newly
married pair started on an extended wedding trip, returning to keep
Christmas at the palace, but before that festival came round again the
enemies of Catherine had managed to poison her husband's mind against
her.  It was on All Souls' Day, 1541, when the king and queen were at
mass in the chapel, that Cranmer secretly handed to the former a paper
containing, it is said, convincing proof of Catherine's unfaithfulness,
and with his usual impetuosity Henry at once decided to get rid of her.
The unfortunate lady was ordered to withdraw to her own apartments, a
strict guard was placed over her, and early the next morning the king
rode away determined never to see her again.  The story goes that in
spite of the vigilance of her attendants Catherine managed to elude
them all and {300} to intercept her husband as he was leaving his
bedroom, but he sternly refused to listen to her, and she was dragged
away weeping and wringing her hands.  Yet once more, in 1543, the king
brought a bride to Hampton Court, the staid and tactful Catherine Parr,
who managed successfully to play the rôle of mother to the three
children of her predecessors, and, until her husband died, even to keep
the peace with him.

During the last few years of his life Henry was constantly at the
palace, and when he became too infirm to hunt at a distance he quietly
set about enclosing within the boundaries of his Honour of Hampton a
vast tract of country on the Surrey side of the river, taking in many
manors and villages, including East and West Molesey, stocking the
commons, meadows, and pastures with 'beasts of venery and fowls of
warren,' and appointing officers to ensure the punishment of any who
should offend against the laws of the chase, which were to be the same
as those governing the ancient forests belonging to the Crown.  To this
very high-handed proceeding the owners of the property were compelled
to submit, but after the death of the king his son had the enclosures
taken down and the 'beasts of venery' removed, reserving the right,
however, of restoring them at any future time, so that technically the
lands in question still belong to the Crown.

Though Edward VI. and Queen Mary were both a good deal at Hampton
Court, it was not until the reign of Queen Elizabeth that it was again
the scene of such pageants as had been of constant occurrence {301}
during the reign of their father.  The maiden queen, however, was
greatly attached to it, often holding her court there, and it was in
its great hall that the council met on October 30, 1568, which
practically decided the fate of Mary, Queen of Scots, though it was not
until December 4 of the same year, the day after a second consultation,
when the Regent James, Earl of Murray, gave to the Queen of England the
fatal casket containing the letters and poems that were supposed to
prove his sister's guilt, that Elizabeth felt free to pronounce her
doom.

In the reign of James I. the most important event that took place at
Hampton Court was the meeting of the conference between the
representatives of the Established Church and the Presbyterians, at
which the king was said by the former to have greatly distinguished
himself by his eloquence, whilst the latter dwelt angrily on his
plausible duplicity, that really had a good deal to do with the
inauguration of the troubles that finally brought his son to the
scaffold.  As is well known, Charles I. greatly loved Hampton Court; he
was there for a short time after his accession with his newly wedded
queen, then a mere child, and it was there, too, many years afterwards,
that he had his last real intercourse with his children, who, as
already related, were often allowed to visit him when they were living
at Sion House under the care of the guardian appointed by the
Parliament.  Thence, alarmed by rumours of a plot against his life, the
unfortunate king escaped on November 11, 1647, first to Oatlands and
then to the Isle of Wight.

{302}

Whilst he was Lord Protector of England, Cromwell often resided at
Hampton Court; in its chapel his beloved daughter Mary was married in
1657 to Viscount Falconbridge, and in one of its rooms her sister, Mrs.
Claypole, died in 1658, after a short illness, to the bitter grief of
her father, who had her body taken by river to Westminster, to be
buried with almost regal pomp in Westminster Abbey.  Her loss was
indeed the death-blow of the harassed ruler, for though he lived three
months longer he was never the same again.  He was removed in a dying
state from Hampton Court to Whitehall, and after he had passed away it
was decided that the palace should be sold and its contents dispersed.
Fortunately, however, the historic building escaped that fate, but
though it was several times occupied by Charles II. and James II., it
was not until the accession of William III. that it again played any
important part in the history of England.  From the first the newly
elected monarch and his wife showed a very special predilection for
their estate at Hampton, and Sir Christopher Wren was soon commissioned
to add to the palace an extensive group of buildings that now, with the
great hall of Henry VIII., form its most important features.
Unfortunately Wren's alterations necessitated the pulling down of two
of Wolsey's courts, that had been spared by the cardinal's royal
supplanter, but in spite of this it must be conceded that the famous
architect triumphantly achieved a most difficult task, for the
magnificent state apartments designed by him, though in a totally
different style from that of the {303} earlier buildings, are yet not
out of harmony with them.

Later, the grounds were as completely transformed as the Tudor palace
itself had been.  The fine terrace known as the Broad Walk was made,
many new fountains were added to those already in the gardens, the
still popular Maze or Labyrinth was planted, the beautiful gate called
the Flower-Pot--from the baskets of flowers upheld by boys on the stone
piers flanking it--was erected, and the yet more effective wrought-iron
screens designed by Jean Tijou, a Frenchman in the employ of Sir
Christopher Wren, recently, after various wanderings, restored to their
original position, were set up at the riverside end of what is known as
the Priory Garden, separating it from the towing-path.

Soon after their first arrival at Hampton Court William and Mary
received as their guest the Princess Anne, daughter of the exiled James
II., who had been married in 1683 to Prince George of Denmark.  As
heir-presumptive of the English throne, the princess was very cordially
disliked by the king and queen, whose jealousy was greater than ever
when, on July 4, 1689, she gave birth to a son, the Duke of Gloucester.
The boy was baptized in the chapel of Hampton Court, William III.
standing godfather, but the child died in 1700, two years before his
mother became queen.  As was not unnatural, considering all that she
had suffered there, Anne cared little for Hampton Court, preferring her
palaces at Kensington and Windsor, but she commissioned the painter
Verrio and the sculptor Grinling Gibbons to {304} supplement the
already lavish decorations with ceiling paintings and mural carvings.
Her successors, George I. and George II., on the other hand, were very
fond of the palace, but they left it much as they found it, except that
the former had the ceiling of the state bedchamber painted by Sir James
Thornhill.

It was in the reign of George III., who never resided at Hampton Court,
that the famous Black Hamburgh vine, the largest in England, was
planted, and it was the same monarch who first turned the palace to
account by assigning apartments in it to people of rank and
distinction, to whom for one reason or another he wished to show
favour.  Since then, though it has never again been the abode of
royalty, it has been the scene of many gatherings of celebrities.  At
one time, for instance, it was the home of the Countess of Mornington,
mother of the great Duke of Wellington and the astute statesman Lord
Wellesley, and in it lived for several years Mrs. Tom Sheridan,
daughter-in-law of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, one of whose daughters
was the Queen of Beauty at the Eglinton Tournament of 1839, and another
the wife of the Marquis of Dufferin, whose son, the late Lord Dufferin
and Ava, became Viceroy of India.

It was in 1838 that Queen Victoria decided to admit all her subjects
free of fee to the state apartments and grounds of her palace at
Hampton, a generous policy, the wisdom of which has been conclusively
proved by the ever-increasing numbers of those who show their
appreciation of the fine works {305} of art preserved in the galleries
and their delight in the beauty of the grounds.  The grand old demesne
is indeed a notable witness to the continuity of the present with the
past, and to the close union between the people and their rulers, that
in spite of the growth of democracy is still distinctive of England,
and is her best hope for the future.



{306}

In addition to the many standard works on London as a whole, including
those by Sir Walter Besant, Edward Walford, James Thorne, G. E. Mitton,
and others, the author of the present volume has consulted William
Howitt's _Northern Heights of London_; _The Records of Hampstead_,
edited by F. E. Baines; _The Hampstead Annals; The Transactions of the
Antiquarian and Historical Society of Hampstead; Wyldes and its Story_,
by Mrs. Arthur Wilson; Harrow, by J. Fischer Williams; _Epping Forest_,
by Edward North Buxton; _Chislehurst Caves and Dene Holes_, by W. G.
Nicholls; _The History and Antiquities of Richmond, Kew, Petersham, and
Ham_, by G. Beresford Chancellor; _Ham House_, by Dr. Williamson;
_Bygone Putney_, by Ernest Hammond; _The History of Hampton Court_, by
Ernest Law; supplementing them by the collection of recent information
on the spot in the various districts treated.



{307}

INDEX


  ABBEY WOOD, 92.
  Aberdeen, Lord, 46.
  Abershaw, Jerry, 204.
  Abney, Sir Thomas, 33.
  Aconzio, Giacomo, 93.
  Acton, 277.
  Adam, Robert, 283.
  Addington, 142.
  Addington, Henry, 219.
  Addiscombe, 143.
  Addison, 14, 33, 194.
  Ælffic, 152, 153.
  Æthelbricht, King of Kent, 198.
  Æthelred, King, 208.
  Ainger, Canon, 21.
  Airey, Sir George, 114.
  Akenside, Dr., 15.
  Alcock, Thomas, 157.
  Aldborough Hatch, 72, 73.
  Alfred, King, 100, 101, 124, 208.
  Algar, Earl, 295.
  Alleyn, Edward, 131, 132, 133.
  Allingham, William, 18.
  Amelia, Princess, 260, 261, 277.
  Amelia, Queen, 256.
  Anerley, 135.
  Angoulême, Duchesse d', 22.
  Anjou, Margaret of, 229.
  Anne of Bohemia, 120, 228.
  Anne of Cleves, 104, 117, 130, 234, 299.
  Anne of Denmark, 108.
  Anne, Princess, 242, 283, 287, 303.
  Anne, Queen, 111, 163, 167, 225, 271.
  Antraigues, Count d', 195.
  Aragon, Katharine of, 59, 86, 103, 232, 233, 245, 266, 286.
  Archer, Lady, 195.
  Argyll, Duke of, 264.
  Arran, Earl of, 249.
  Arthur, Prince, 232, 266.
  Arundel, Archbishop, 149.
  Arundel, Earl of, 161.
  Ashurst, Sir William, 35.
  Athelstan, King, 192, 263, 265.
  Atterbury, Bishop, 33.
  Atterbury, Dr., 33, 39.
  Aubrey, Lord, 152.
  Auckland, Lord, 130.
  Audley, Lord, 116.
  Aulus Plautius, 138.
  Aylmer, John, 95.



  BACON, LORD FRANCIS, 33, 132, 149, 286.
  Baillie, Agnes, 17.
  Baillie, Joanna, 17.
  Baker, Sir Richard, 33.
  Banstead, 165-171.
  Barbauld, Rochemond, 36.
  Barking, 80, 82, 83.
  Barking, Abbess of, 78.
  Barking Abbey, 72, 81, 83.
  Barking Creek, 85.
  Barking Side, 73, 74.
  Barnard, Sir John, 219.
  Barnes, 179, 191-196, 197-218.
  Barnet, 24.
  Barnet, Chipping, 51.
  Barnet, East, 50, 51, 53, 54.
  Barnet Field, 50.
  Barnet, High, 50, 51, 52, 53.
  Barry, Sir Charles, 134.
  Bastwick, Dr., 33.
  Beach, Mary, 289.
  Beale, Robert, 195.
  Beauclerck, Lady Diana, 257, 263.
  Beaufort, Thomas, 101.
  Beckenham, 129, 130.
  Beckley, 128.
  Beddington, 152, 154, 155, 157, 215.
  Bedell, Mary, 145.
  Bedingfield, Sir Henry, 236.
  Beechey, Sir Thomas, 20.
  Belet, Michael, 227.
  Bell, Robert, 202.
  Belsize, 4, 5.
  Belvedere, 95.
  Benn, Sir Anthony, 267.
  Bennet, Timothy, 291.
  Bermondsey, Monastery of, 131.
  Berry, the Misses, 263, 289.
  Besant, Sir Walter, 18.
  Bettes, James, 296.
  Beverley Brook, 191, 261.
  Bexley, 98.
  Bickersteth, Dr., 22.
  Birket Foster, 41.
  Blackheath, 100, 105, 115, 116, 117.
  Black Prince, 119.
  Blake, William, 17, 35.
  Boadicea, Queen, 60.
  Bolingbroke, Henry, 149.
  Bolingbroke, Richard, 38.
  Boleyn, Anne, 103, 140, 141, 234, 293, 298.
  Bonar, Mr. and Mrs., 128.
  Bonivet, Admiral, 116.
  Bonner, Edward, 186.
  Boswell, James, 42.
  Bourgeois, Sir Francis, 134.
  Bowyer, William, 77.
  Brabazon, Sir Roger, 4.
  Bradley, James, 114, 222.
  Bradon, William, 130.
  Bradshaw, John, 145.
  Braganza, Caroline of, 166.
  Brampton, Thomas, 233.
  Brawne, Fanny, 17.
  Brent, river, 9, 41, 42, 274, 278, 279.
  Brentford, 9, 177, 178, 225, 275-276.
  Bridget, Princess, 121.
  Bridgman, Sir Orlando, 290.
  Bromley, 128-130.
  Brougham, Lord, 189.
  Brouncker, Lord, 247, 248, 257.
  Brown, Charles Armitage, 17.
  Bruce, James, 46.
  Buchan, Lord, 258.
  Buckhurst, Lord, 65.
  Bunyan, John, 275.
  Burdett, Sir Francis, 204.
  Burdett-Coutts, Baroness, 36.
  Burghley, Lord, 199, 200, 216.
  Burlington, Earl of, 272.
  Burney, Charles, 271.
  Burney, Fanny, 12, 15.
  Burrage Town, 91, 92.
  Burstall Heath, 93.
  Burton, Lady, 220.
  Burton, Sir Richard, 219.
  Burton, Henry, 33.
  Bushey Park, 290, 291.
  Bute, Earl of, 261.
  Butler, Bishop, 14.
  Butler, Dr., 46.
  Buxton, Sir Samuel, 16.
  Buxton, North, 72.
  Byron, Lord, 17, 26, 46, 91, 134.



  CADE, JACK, 116.
  Caen Wood, 6, 15, 37.
  Csar, Sir Julius, 215.
  Calton, Thomas, 131.
  Cambridge, Duke of, 225.
  Cambridge, Richard Owen, 287.
  Campbell, Thomas, 16, 135.
  Campbell, John, 264.
  Campeggio, Cardinal, 116.
  Canning, George, 187, 272.
  Canterbury, Archbishop of, 98.
  Canute, 277.
  Capel, Lord, 221, 222.
  Cardigan, Earl of, 205.
  Carew, Sir George and Lady, 234.
  Carew, Sir Nicholas, 154, 157, 164.
  Carlyle, Thomas, 35.
  Caroline, Queen, 115, 223, 242, 250, 255, 270.
  Carpenter, Edward, 41.
  Carshalton, 155-157, 169, 215.
  Carwardine, Sir Thomas, 160.
  Castlemaine, Lady, 163, 166, 241.
  Castlereagh, Lord, 187.
  Caterham, 146, 153.
  Catford, 125.
  Catherine, Queen, 271.
  Ceawlin, King of Wessex, 198.
  Cecil, Sir Thomas, 199.
  Chalon, John James, 30.
  Chamber, Sir William, 222, 255.
  Champion Hill, 182.
  Chandos, Duke of, 50.
  Chandos, Lord, 187.
  Chantrey, Sir Francis, 127, 267.
  Charles I., 86, 108, 112, 117, 122,
      133, 145, 163, 168, 182, 187, 190,
      240, 263, 286, 290, 291, 301.
  Charles II., 32, 35, 109, 112, 117,
      133, 153, 163, 166, 168, 190,
      197, 200, 201, 257, 264, 271,
      286, 294, 302.
  Charles V., 103, 233.
  Charlotte, Queen, 223, 224, 242, 256, 265.
  Charlotte, Princess, 115.
  Charlton, 118, 119.
  Chatham, Lord, 15, 136, 139, 142, 144, 187-189, 202.
  Cheam, 158, 159, 163, 197.
  Chertsey, 164.
  Chelsham, 146.
  Cheshunt, 56.
  Chessington, Richard de, 214.
  Chesterfield, Earl of, 4, 115.
  Chevenix, Mrs., 287.
  Child, Sir Joshua, 70.
  Child, Sir Thomas, 280.
  Chingford-Earls, 63.
  Chislehurst, 96, 125-128.
  Chiswick, 220, 271-273.
  Cholmeley, Sir Roger, 29.
  Cholmondeley, Earl of, 251.
  Cibber, Colley, 15, 252.
  Clare, John, 63.
  Clarence, Duke of, 231, 251.
  Clarendon, Lord, 287.
  Clarke, Cowden, 35.
  Claudius, Emperor, 138.
  Claypole, Mrs., 302.
  Cleveland, Duchess of, 163, 273.
  Clive, Kitty, 288.
  Clive, Lord, 216.
  Cobbett, William, 194.
  Cole, George, 263.
  Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 16, 25, 30, 35.
  Colet, Dean, 246, 249.
  Collins, William, 20.
  Collinson, Peter, 42.
  Compton, Colonel Henry, 187.
  Condé, Prince de, 71.
  Congreve, William, 194.
  Connaught, Duke of, 64.
  Connaught, Prince of, 115.
  Constable, John, 19, 20, 24, 25, 204.
  Conyers, Sir Gerard, 69.
  Conyers, Thomas, 53.
  Cook, Sir Frederick, 256.
  Coombe, 100.
  Coombe Hill, 296.
  Coombe Wood, 204.
  Coppe, Abrezer, 195.
  Cornwallis, Admiral, 188.
  Cornwallis, Sir Thomas, 33.
  Cottington, Lord, 260.
  Cotton, Robert, 257.
  Coulsdon, 153.
  Crabbe, 16.
  Craik, Mrs., 138.
  Cranmer, Archbishop, 43, 58, 150, 215.
  Cray, Foot's, 96, 97.
  Crayford, 96, 98.
  Cray, Mary, 96.
  Cray, North, 96, 97.
  Cray, river, 98.
  Cray, St. Paul's, 96.
  Cromwell, Oliver, 23, 108, 133,
      174, 262, 264, 273, 276, 294, 302.
  Cromwell, Thomas, 181, 183, 184, 198, 246.
  Cromwell, Walter, 184.
  Crossness, 93, 94.
  Crotch, Dr., 270.
  Crouch End, 31.
  Croydon, 135, 143, 144, 148-154, 215.
  Crystal Palace, 135.
  Cyncheard, the Ætheling, 208.
  Cynewulf, King, 208.



  DAMSELL, MARGARET, 130.
  Dagenham, 83-85.
  Duppa, Bishop, 253, 256.
  D'Arcy, Edward, 165.
  Darrell, Sir Lionel, 256.
  Dartford, 127.
  Davey, Sir Thomas, 66.
  Davis, Thomas, 20.
  Day, Daniel, 73, 74.
  Deans, Jeanie, 250.
  Decker, Sir Matthew, 250.
  Dee, Dr., 218, 219, 237.
  Delafosse, Rev. Mark, 257.
  Delaney, Mrs., 270.
  Denmark Hill, 132.
  Denny, Sir Anthony, 59.
  Desenfans, Monsieur, 134.
  Devonshire, Duchess of, 190.
  Dickens, 15, 16, 41, 66, 67, 289.
  Digby, John, 201.
  Dighton, Edward, 20.
  Diggs, Margaret, 181.
  Dilke, Charles Wentworth, 17.
  Docwra, Sir Thomas, 295.
  Donne, Dr., 216.
  Dorchester, Marquis of, 35.
  Douglas, Lady, 262.
  Downe, 140.
  Draper, William, 97.
  Dryden, John, 194.
  Ducket, Lionel, 215.
  Dudley, Lord Robert, 282.
  Dufferin, Lord, 35, 304.
  Dulwich, 131-134.
  Du Maurier, George, 21.
  Duncan, Edward, 20.
  Dunstan, Sir Jeffrey, 174.
  Dunstan, 265.
  Dunstaple, Sir Harry, 174.
  Duppa, Bishop, 240.
  Dyer, Sir W.  Thisselton, 224.
  Dysart, Countess of, 263, 264.
  Dysart, Earl of, 255, 265.
  Dysart, Lady, 265.



  EALING, 277.
  Edgar, King, 80, 265.
  Edgware, 39, 40, 51.
  Edmonton, 49.
  Edmund, King, 265, 275.
  Edred, King, 265.
  Edward the Confessor, 3, 41, 57, 68, 74, 97, 294.
  Edward the Martyr, 265.
  Edward the Peaceable, 3.
  Edward I., 6, 56, 61, 83, 101, 130, 227.
  Edward II., 101, 119.
  Edward III., 7, 28, 72, 76, 119,
      140, 227, 228, 255, 267, 270.
  Edward IV., 38, 52, 76, 102, 113,
      116, 121, 156, 230, 245, 266.
  Edward V., 38.
  Edward VI., 29, 66, 105, 146,
      160, 215, 235, 281, 282, 293,
      299, 300.
  Edwy, King, 265.
  Eel Pie Island, Richmond, 285.
  Eleanor, Queen, 56.
  Elizabeth, Queen, 5, 29, 33, 58,
      66, 70, 76, 82, 88, 93, 99, 106,
      108, 117, 122, 145, 150, 154,
      155, 158, 159, 161-163, 165,
      181-183, 192, 195, 199, 214-216,
      218, 221, 235, 237, 252,
      269, 280, 282, 286, 290, 300.
  Elizabeth, Princess, 282.
  Elizabeth, of York, 295.
  Elmham, Thomas, 229.
  Ellerton, John, 195.
  Ellymbridge, Thomas, 156.
  Elstree, 39, 50, 51.
  Eltham, 118-124.
  Eltham, John of, 119.
  Eltham, Statutes of, 122.
  Enfield, 50, 54-60, 76.
  Epping Forest, 56, 59, 60-71.
    Aldersbrook Cemetery, 62.
    Ambresbury Banks, 60, 64.
    Beech Hill, 65.
    Beech Wood, 63.
    Buckhurst Hill, 64, 66.
    Chingford, 62, 64, 65.
    Chingford St. Paul's, 64.
    Chigwell, 66, 67.
    Chigwell Palace, 62.
    Connaught Water, 64.
    Etloe, 77.
    Green Ride, 64.
    Harold's Oak, 63.
    Higham Hill, 68.
    High Beach Green, 63.
    High Beach Hill, 63.
    Loughton, 60, 64-66.
    New Hall Palace, 62.
    Queen Elizabeth's Hunting Lodge, 63, 64.
    Ranger's Road, 64.
    Rockholt, 77.
    Sewardstone, 62.
    Theydon Bois, 62, 72.
    Whip's Cross, 68.
    Woodford, 67, 68.
    Writtle Palace, 62.
  Epsom, 157, 163-170.
  Eric IV. of Sweden, 237.
  Erith, 92, 95.
  Erskine, Lord, 16.
  Esher, 185.
  Essex, Earl of, 107, 161, 177, 182.
  Ethelbert, King, 129.
  Ethelred, King, 164, 278.
  Ethelred II., 3, 265.
  Ethelruda, 124.
  Eugénie, Empress, 128.
  Evelyn, John, 100, 193, 201, 264
  Evelyn, Mrs. Richard, 165.
  Ewell, 158-160, 163.
  Ewing, Mrs., 257.



  FAIRFAX, 182, 266.
  Falconbridge, Countess of, 273.
  Falconbridge, Viscount, 302.
  Farley, 146.
  Farnaby, Sir Charles, 141.
  Farnborough, 128, 140.
  Farnehame, John, 29.
  Fauntleroy, Henry, 36.
  Fawcett, William, 79.
  Fawkener, Sir Everard, 173.
  Fielding, Henry, 195.
  Finchley, 15, 34.
  Finsbury Park, 38.
  Firth, John, 150.
  Fittler, James, 273.
  Fitzherbert, Mrs., 251, 256, 285.
  Fitzjames, Bishop, 268.
  Flammarion, Camille, 1.
  Flamstead, 114.
  Flaxman, John, 19, 257.
  Fleet Ditch, 9.
  Fletcher, Bishop, 269.
  Foley, John, 20.
  Foot, Sir Thomas, 79.
  Foote, Samuel, 173.
  Foote, William, 29.
  Forest Hill, 133.
  Foscolo, Ugo, 273.
  Fot, Godwin, 97.
  Fox, Charles James, 189, 272.
  Francis, Sir Philip, 219.
  Frederick V., 11.
  Frere, Sir Bartle, 203.
  Friern Barnet, 31, 50.
  Frognal, 3.
  Froissart, Jean, 120.
  Fry, Elizabeth, 79, 80.
  Fulham, 175, 177, 179, 268-270.
  Fuller, Thomas, 165.
  Fuseli, Henry, 190.



  GAINSBOROUGH, THOMAS, 14, 67, 226, 252.
  Gainsborough, Countess of, 11.
  Garnett, Dr., 18.
  Garratt, 173, 174.
  Garrick, David, 15, 23, 40, 173, 226, 252, 273, 292.
  Gatty, Mrs., 41.
  Gay, John, 14.
  George I., 304.
  George II., 89, 136, 179, 193,
      242, 249, 250, 285, 304.
  George III., 137, 142, 167, 183,
      206, 222, 223, 250, 256, 304.
  George IV., 223, 285.
  George Eliot, 30, 173.
  Gibbon, Edward, 181.
  Gibbons, Grinling, 112, 303.
  Gideon, Sir Samuel, 95.
  Gifford, William, 203.
  Gilbert the Norman, 209, 211.
  Gillies, Margaret, 21.
  Gilman, 35.
  Gilpin, John, 49.
  Gladstone, Mrs., 68.
  Glennie, Dr., 134.
  Gloucester, Duchess of, 38.
  Gloucester, Duke of, 282, 303.
  Glover, Richard, 142.
  Godwin the Hermit, 6, 9.
  Goldschmidt, Madame, 203.
  Goldsmith, Oliver, 42.
  Gordon, Lord George, 15, 16.
  Gospel Oak, 9.
  Grattan, Henry, 205.
  Great Ilford, 78.
  Green, Valentine, 174.
  Greenford Magna, 278.
  Greenford Parva, 277.
  Greenwich, 86, 100-115, 118, 122, 123.
  Grenville, Right Hon. William, 139, 202.
  Gresham, Sir Thomas, 280.
  Grey, Lady Jane, 282.
  Grey, Sir John, 76, 221, 246.
  Grindal, Archbishop, 29, 153.
  Grote, George, 130.
  Gunnersbury, 277.
  Gunyld, 277.
  Gurney, Samuel, 79.
  Gwynesford, Nicholas, 156.
  Gwynn, Nell, 32, 33, 276.
  Gypsy Hill, 135.



  HAINAULT FOREST, 72-74.
  Halifax, Lord, 291, 292.
  Haling, 152, 153.
  Halley, Edmund, 114.
  Hall's Chronicle, 90, 105.
  Ham, 259, 262, 263, 265.
  Ham, East, 79.
  Ham House, 263-265.
  Ham, West, 78, 79.
  Hamilton, Lady, 188, 208, 212, 213.
  Hamilton, Sir William, 212, 213.
  Hammersmith, 270-272.
  Hampstead, 1-24.
    Bertram House, 18.
    Bolton House, 16.
    Bull and Bush Inn, 14, 15.
    Capo di Monte, 17.
    Christ Church, 22.
    Church Row, 17, 21, 22.
    Cloth Hill, 10, 19.
    Evergreen Hill, 16.
    Fitz-John's Avenue, 20.
    Flask Tavern, 11.
    Flask Walk, 11, 18.
    Golder's Hill, 23.
    Heath, 16, 21-23, 25.
    Heath House, 14, 16, 22.
    High Street, 10, 19.
    Holly Bush Assembly Rooms, 19.
    Holly Hill, 10.
    Jack Straw's Castle, 11, 15, 16.
    Judges' Walk, 17.
    King of Bohemia Tavern, 11.
    Lawn Bank, 17.
    Lyndhurst Road, 14, 18.
    Mount, The, 19.
    Mount Vernon, 11.
    North End House, 11, 15.
    New Grave House, 21.
    Parish Church, 21.
    Parliament Hill, 23.
    Pond Street, 18.
    Prince Arthur Road, 20.
    Prospect House, 19.
    Public Library, 20.
    Roman Catholic Chapel, 22.
    Rosemount, 18.
    Rosslyn Hill, 17.
    Rosslyn House, 14.
    Sion Chapel, 12.
    Soldiers' Daughters' Home, 13.
    Steele's Studios, 14.
    St. Saviour, Church of, 22.
    St. Stephen's Church, 18, 20, 22.
    'Spaniards,' 15, 16.
    Upper Flask Tavern, 14.
    Vale of Health, 17.
    Well Walk, 12, 13, 17, 20.
    Wildwoods, 15.
    Windmill Hill, 11, 16.
  Hampton, 292.
  Hampton Court, 103, 160, 182,
      185, 186, 234, 235, 267, 290-303.
  Hampton Wick, 292.
  Handel, George Frederick, 50, 193.
  Hanover, George, King of, 226.
  Hardwick, Lord, 156.
  Hare, Dr., 195.
  Haringay, 38.
  Harlowe, Clarissa, 14.
  Harold, King, 57, 66, 67, 209.
  Harper, Sir John, 174.
  Harrison, Mrs. Mary, 21.
  Harrow-on-the-Hill, 24, 39, 43-48.
  Harrow Weald, 43.
  Harsnett, 67.
  Hart, Perceval, 99.
  Hartley, David, 187.
  Hasted, 121.
  Hatteclyff, Thomas, 143.
  Hatton, Sir Christopher, 150, 199.
  Havering, 74-76.
  Hawkins, Sir John, 34.
  Hayes, 136, 138, 141.
  Heath, Dr., 47.
  Heidegger, Count, 194.
  Hendon, 5, 8, 24, 37, 39-42.
  Hengist, 96.
  Henrietta Maria, 108, 109, 163, 200, 240, 241, 286.
  Henry I., 78, 209, 227.
  Henry II., 58.
  Henry III., 61, 119, 130, 266.
  Henry IV., 101, 121, 149, 229.
  Henry V., 101, 121, 229, 244, 280.
  Henry VI., 38, 40, 116, 121, 156, 280.
  Henry VII., 38, 102, 121, 130, 156, 230, 232, 234.
  Henry VIII., 7, 43, 58, 64, 68,
      80, 81, 86, 94, 102, 103, 117,
      122, 130, 131, 140, 141, 143,
      149, 154, 157, 160, 163, 164,
      181, 198, 214, 233, 234, 249,
      252, 281, 286, 293, 297.
  Henry, Prince, 239.
  Herbert, Lord, 91.
  Herring, Archbishop, 149, 151.
  Hertcombe, John, 267.
  Heydon, Sir Henry, 140, 141.
  Heywood, Thomas, 168.
  Hide Monastery, 145.
  Highgate, 8, 9, 24, 25-37.
    Archway Tavern, 31.
    Arundel House, 33.
    Bank, 33.
    Black Dog Tavern, 37.
    Brookfield House, 36.
    Bull Inn, 34.
    Chapel, 33, 39.
    Chapel of Passionist Fathers, 37.
    Church House, 34.
    Cromwell House, 33.
    Dorchester House, 35.
    Dufferin Lodge, 35.
    Fitzroy Park, 35.
    Flask Inn, 34.
    Fox and Crown Inn, 36.
    Gate House Inn, 26, 28.
    Great North Road, 34.
    Green, 33, 34.
    Grove, 35.
    Hermitage, 36.
    Hermitage Chapel, 29.
    Highgate Hill, 31.
    High Street, 31.
    Holloway, 37.
    Holly Lodge, 36, 37.
    Holly Village, 37.
    Ivy Cottage, 36.
    Lauderdale House, 32, 33.
    Millfield Lane, 36.
    Southwood Lane, 32, 37.
    Swain's Lane, 37.
    Waterlow Park, 32.
    West Hill, 36.
  Highwood Hill, 43.
  Hill, Sir Roland, 18.
  Hoare, Samuel, 16.
  Hoare, Sir Richard, 192, 194.
  Hoare, Sir Samuel, 216.
  Hofland, Mrs., 253, 257.
  Hogarth, William, 14, 25, 34, 272, 273.
  Holbourne, 9.
  Holl, Frank, 20.
  Holland, Charles, 273.
  Holland, Earl of, 266.
  Holwood Hill, 138.
  Hood, Robin, 91.
  Hook, Theodore, 46, 269.
  Hooker, Sir Joseph, 224.
  Hooker, Sir William, 224.
  Hoppner, John, 265.
  Horley, 157.
  Hornchurch, 74.
  Horne, John, 145.
  Horne, Nathaniel, 39.
  Hornsey, 8, 29, 37, 38.
  Horton, 164.
  Houblin, The Misses, 254.
  Howard, Catherine, 105, 235, 281, 293, 299.
  Howard, Mrs., 285.
  Howitt, Mary, 36.
  Howitt, William, 36.
  Humphrey, Duke, 101, 102, 112, 113.
  Hunt, Leigh, 17, 24, 35, 36, 211, 258, 270.
  Huntingdon, Countess of, 34.
  Huntingfield, Lord, 191.
  Hyde, Anne, 287.



  INGELRICA, 3.
  Inigo Jones, 55, 108, 109, 118, 272.
  Ireton, General, 33.
  Irving, Edward, 18, 20, 35.
  Isabel of France, 116.
  Isabella of France, 120.
  Isabella, Queen, 119.
  Isle of Dogs, 114.
  Isleworth, 220, 281, 284-287



  JAMES I., 33, 54, 66, 76, 113, 117,
      122, 158, 163, 168, 182, 211,
      282, 301.
  James II., 109, 242, 264, 302, 303.
  James IV., 232, 246.
  Jansen, Sir Theodore, 199, 201.
  Jennings, Sarah, 201.
  Jerrold, Douglas, 190.
  John, King, 94, 127, 266.
  John of France, 119.
  Johnson, Dr., 15, 129, 135, 216, 292.
  Johnston, Hester, 247.
  Jones, Sir William, 46, 91.
  Joseph, Michael, 116.
  Juxon, Bishop, 150, 151, 182, 260, 269.



  KEAN, EDMUND, 252, 257, 270.
  Keats, John, 17, 24, 35, 36, 49.
  Kent, Duchess of, 261.
  Keston, 136-138, 140, 280.
  Kew, 220-226.
  Kew Gardens, 221-225.
  Keybourne Brook, 6.
  Kilburn, 5, 6, 8.
  Kilnbourne, Nonnerie of, 7.
  Kingsbury, 41, 42, 51.
  Kingston, 159, 177, 178, 197, 220,
      226, 259, 262, 265, 266.
  Kingstone, Lady Mary, 77.
  Kirby, Joshua, 226.
  Kit Cat Club, 14, 194.
  Kneller, Sir Godfrey, 194, 288.
  Kneller, Lady, 288.



  LACY, JOHN, 181, 183.
  Lacy, Richard de, 92.
  Lamb, Charles, 35, 49, 55.
  Lambarde, 122.
  Lambert, General, 200, 201.
  Lanfranc, Archbishop, 43, 44, 148, 176.
  Latimer, 269.
  Laud, Archbishop, 150, 177, 190, 260.
  Lauderdale, Duke of, 32, 264.
  Lea, river, 49, 54, 56, 59, 69, 70.
  Lee, 124, 125.
  Leicester, Earl of, 52, 70, 221, 235, 290.
  Leighton, Lord, 16, 254.
  Lennox, Colonel, 204.
  Lennox, Lady Sarah, 256.
  Le Nôtre, 112.
  Leo of Bohemia, 120.
  Léon, Comte, 205.
  Lesnes Abbey, 92, 93.
  Lessingham, Mrs., 22.
  Lever, Samuel, 41.
  Lewis, David, 77.
  Lewis, Monk, 195.
  Lewisham, 124, 125.
  Leyton, 69, 70.
  Lieven, Princess, 256.
  Lightfoot, Hannah, 225.
  Lillywhite, John, 30.
  Linnæus, Carl, 43.
  Linnell, John, 17.
  Lisle, Lord, 235.
  Lister, Richard, 181.
  Litchfield, William, 28.
  Liverpool, Countess of, 267.
  Liverpool, Lord, 143, 204.
  Lloyd, Bishop, 271.
  Lloyd, Henry, 159.
  Lloyd, Sir Thomas, 190.
  Lombarde, William de, 112.
  Londonderry, Marquis of, 205.
  Long, Miss Tylney, 71.
  Longley, Archbishop, 143.
  Louis XVIII., 71.
  Louis-Philippe, 287.
  Loutherbourg, 271, 273.
  Lovell, Gregory, 211.
  Lowther, Honourable Barbara, 257.
  Lubbock, Sir John, 140.
  Luckington, James, 212.
  Lumley, Lord John, 158, 161.
  Lyndhurst, Lord, 30.
  Lyon, John, 46, 47.
  Lyttelton, Lord, 142.
  Lytton, Lord, 53, 253.



  MACARTNEY, Lord, 273.
  Macaulay, Lord, 117.
  Madox Brown, 41.
  Maid of Kent, 245, 281.
  Malden, 208, 210, 213, 214.
  Mallet, David, 273.
  Mangoda, 3.
  Manning, Cardinal, 46.
  Mansfield, Lord, 15, 38.
  Marble Hill, 284, 285.
  Margaret of Anjou, 121.
  Margaret, Princess, 232.
  Margaret, Queen of Scotland, 103.
  Marlborough, Duchess of, 177.
  Mary, Princess, 221, 233, 287.
  Mary, Queen, 29, 70, 105, 150,
      159, 160, 199, 236, 246, 266,
      282, 300.
  Mary, Queen-Dowager of Scotland, 103.
  Mary, Queen of Scots, 97, 192, 195, 211, 301.
  Masters, Francis, 39.
  Mathews, Charles, 36, 216.
  Matilda, Queen, 6, 78.
  Maud, Empress, 155.
  Maurice, Frederick, 30.
  Maxwell, Mrs., 253.
  Mayerne, Sir Theodore, 122.
  Maynard, Lord, 68.
  Marvell, Andrew, 33.
  Melvill, Henry, 195.
  Melville, Lord, 188.
  Merry, Sir Thomas, 69.
  Merton, 19, 208-212, 215.
  Merton, Walter de, 210, 213, 214.
  Meteyard, Elizabeth, 18.
  Mill Hill, 39, 42, 43.
  Millais, Sir John, 141.
  Millebourne, William, 191.
  Miller, Joe, 274.
  Milton, John, 33, 193.
  Mitcham, 197, 208, 215-217.
  Mole, river, 267.
  Molesey, 267.
  Molesey, East, 300.
  Molesey, West, 300.
  Molyneux, 222.
  Monken Hadley, 53.
  Monmouth, Duke of, 166.
  Morden, 208, 214, 215.
  Morden, Sir John, 118.
  More, Hannah, 216.
  More, Sir Thomas, 124, 215.
  Morel, Abbé, 22.
  Morland, George, 25, 34.
  Morland, Sir Samuel, 271.
  Mornington, Countess of, 304.
  Mortlake, 184, 198, 218-220, 259.
  Morton, Cardinal, 156.
  Mottingham, 124.
  Mounteagle, Lord, 83.
  Muloch, Diana, 18, 138.
  Murphy, Arthur, 271.
  Murray, Earl of, 301.
  Murray, John, 203.
  Muswell Hill, 9, 31.



  NAPOLEON III., 128, 205.
  Nelson, Lord, 36, 111, 188, 208, 212, 213.
  Newcastle, Duke of, 152.
  New River, 49, 54.
  Newton, Gilbert Stuart, 203.
  Nicholls, Mr., 126.
  Nonsuch Palace, 156-163, 168.
  Norviton, 265.
  Norfolk, Duke of, 116, 221.
  Norris, Sir John, 185.
  North, Lord, 43, 292.
  Northumberland, Duke of, 282.
  Northumberland, Earl of, 282.
  Norton, Mrs., 35.
  Norton, Sir Gregory, 241.
  Norwood, 135, 215.
  Nottingham, Countess of, 238.
  Noy, Chancellor, 274, 276.



  OAKS RACE, 169.
  [OE]lgifa, Queen, 265.
  Oesterley Park, 280.
  Odo, Bishop, 94, 98, 118, 119, 130, 138.
  Oldham, 89.
  Ongar, 64.
  Orleans, Duke of, 103.
  Ormond, Duke of, 249.
  Orpington, 96, 99.
  Osborne, Dorothy, 247.
  Oswald, King, 164.
  Oswy, King, 164.
  Oulton, 155.
  Owen, Sir Richard, 261.
  Ownstead, Joanna, 145.
  Ownstead, John, 145.



  PADDINGTON CANAL, 279.
  Palgrave, Sir Thomas, 18.
  Palmer, Philadelphia, 181.
  Palmerston, Lord, 46.
  Paris, Matthew, 119.
  Park, John James, 16.
  Parker, Sir James, 231.
  Parr, Dr. Samuel, 46.
  Parr, Catherine, 199, 300.
  Parry, Sir Edward, 18.
  Pauncefoot, Edward, 32.
  Paxton, Sir Joseph, 272.
  Paxton, William, 202.
  Payne, Judge, 30, 37.
  Peachman, Polly, 112.
  Peek, Sir Henry, 198.
  Peel, General, 206.
  Peel, Sir Robert, 46.
  Pembroke, Countess of, 261.
  Pembroke, Earl of, 285.
  Penn, Mrs., 293.
  Penn, William, 290.
  Pepys, Samuel, 86, 87, 91, 109, 168, 193, 211.
  Perceval, Sir Spencer, 5, 46.
  Percy, Algernon, 282.
  Percy, Lady Elizabeth, 283.
  Perivale, 278.
  Perrers, Alice, 227, 267, 270.
  Perry, James, 203.
  Petersham, 254, 259, 262, 263, 265, 285.
  Pethward, Dr., 177.
  Pevrel, Ranulph, 3, 8.
  Phelippe, William, 28.
  Philip I., 23, 232.
  Philippe, Louis, 256.
  Phillip II., 199, 236.
  Phillippa of Hainault, 119.
  Phillpott, 89.
  Pickering, Sir John, 221.
  Pinwell, John George, 30.
  Piozzi, Mrs., 135.
  Pirelea, William de, 145.
  Pitt, William, 84, 130, 136, 137, 142, 204.
  Plantagenet, Margaret, 69.
  Plumstead, 91, 92, 93.
  Pole, Cardinal, 151, 155, 199, 245.
  Poole, Paul Falconer, 20.
  Pope, Alexander, 14, 258, 270, 285, 288, 289.
  Pope, Sir Thomas, 55.
  Porter, Alan, 127.
  Porter, Sir Wallis, 36.
  Portland, Earl of, 190.
  Portman, Sir Hugh, 221.
  Powis, Earl of, 40.
  Preston, Sir John, 84, 85.
  Prynne, William, 33.
  Purley, 145.
  Putney, 145, 174, 175-190, 197, 218, 259.
  Putney Heath, 185-187.



  QUEENSBERRY, DUCHESS OF, 262.
  Queensberry, Earl of, 251.
  Quin, Samuel, 258.



  RAIMBACK, ABRAHAM, 39.
  Raleigh, Sir Walter, 55, 107, 108, 215.
  Ranelagh, Countess of, 273.
  Ratcliffe, Dr., 156, 271.
  Ravensbourne, 124.
  Ravensbourne, river, 129, 138.
  Ravenscroft, Thomas, 51.
  Ravis, Bishop, 214.
  Raynton, Sir Nicolas, 55, 56.
  Rennie, Sir John, 87.
  Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 255, 265.
  Rich, Chancellor, 70.
  Richard I., 59.
  Richard II., 38, 89, 115, 120, 228, 229.
  Richard III., 38, 230.
  Richardson, Samuel, 12, 270.
  Richmond, 179, 181, 185, 186,
      223, 226, 231-243, 250-258,
      265, 299.
    Ancaster House, 256.
    Black Horse Lane, 255.
    Bridge House, 251.
    Buccleuch House, 252.
    Cardigan House, 254.
    Downe Terrace, 256.
    Egerton House, 253.
    Feather's Inn, 253.
    Gothic House, 251.
    Green, 252.
    Harleton Lodge, 260.
    Heron Court, 253.
    Hill, 250, 253, 259.
    Hospital, 257.
    Ivy Hall, 251.
    Lansdowne House, 254.
    Lass o' Richmond Hill, 256.
    Lichfield House, 253.
    Maid of Honour shop, 253.
    Old Deer Park, 234, 244, 250.
    Palace, 232-235, 240, 242, 251.
    Parish Church, 257.
    Park, 259-262.
    Pembroke Lodge, 259, 261.
    Queen's Road, 255.
    Richmond Lodge, 234, 249.
    Star and Garter Hotel, 255, 256.
    Trumpeter's House, 251.
    Vineyard, 253.
    Wardrobe Court, 243.
    Wesleyan College, 255.
    Wick, the, 255.
    Wick House, 255.
    White Lodge, 261.
  Richmond, Earl of, 130.
  Ridley, Bishop, 268.
  Ripon, Lord, 46.
  Rishanger, William, 119.
  Roberts, Lord, 47.
  Robinson, Henry Crabb, 30, 35.
  Robsart, Amy, 221, 235.
  Rochelle family, 130.
  Roding, river, 78, 82, 85.
  Rodney, Admiral, 46.
  Roehampton, 190, 191, 197.
  Roger, Samuel, 16, 39.
  Romford, 74, 75.
  Romney, George, 18, 19.
  Rook, Robert, 79.
  Rose, Edward, 191.
  Rose, Richard, 192.
  Ross, Sir William, 30.
  Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 30.
  Rowe, Nicolas, 30.
  Roxburgh, Countess of, 240.
  Rubens, Peter Paul, 108.
  Rudd, Dr., 238.
  Rupert, Prince, 87, 275, 276.
  Rushey Green, 125.
  Ruskin, John, 36.
  Rushout, 43.
  Russell, Earl, 261.
  Russell, Lord, 151.
  Ryan, Mr., 125.
  Ryland, W. Wynne, 270.



  SACHEVEREL, DR. HENRY, 33.
  Sackville, Nigel de, 44.
  Salisbury, Countess of, 94, 95.
  Sambook, Jeremy, 52.
  Sanderstead, 144, 145.
  Sandys, Archbishop, 269.
  Savage, Bishop, 39.
  Sayers, Tom, 30.
  Scawen, Sir William, 156.
  Schreiner, Olive, 41.
  Scott, Sir Gilbert, 45, 48.
  Scott, Sir Walter, 250.
  Selwyn, William, 127.
  Seymour, Charles, 283.
  Seymour, Jane, 234, 246, 293, 298, 299.
  Seymour, Lady Jane, 235.
  Seymour, William, 54.
  Shadwell, Sir Launcelot, 194.
  Shaftesbury, Lord, 46.
  Sharp, Archbishop, 32.
  Sharp, William, 273.
  Shaw, Sir John, 119.
  Sheen, 226-231.
  Sheen, Abbey of, 101.
  Sheen Monastery, 211, 244-249.
  Sheldon, Archbishop, 151, 153.
  Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 17, 35.
  Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 46, 257, 304.
  Sheridan, Mrs. Tom, 304.
  Shirley, 143.
  Shortlands, 130.
  Shovel, Admiral, 96.
  Shovel, Elizabeth, 97.
  Shrewsbury, Duke of, 284.
  Siddons, Mrs., 17, 190, 252.
  Sidney, Sir Philip, 193.
  Simmel, Lambert, 231.
  Sinclair, Roger, 95.
  Sion House, 280-284.
  Skelton, William, 177.
  Skern, Robert, 267.
  Sloane, Sir Hans, 272.
  Smith, Alderman, 172.
  Smith, Dr. Southwood, 35.
  Soane, Sir John, 134.
  Somerset, Protector, 281, 283, 293.
  Sophia, Princess, 123.
  Southampton, Lord, 35.
  Southhaw Forest, 51.
  Southwell, Canon, 38.
  Spencer, John, 201.
  Staël-Holstein, Madame de, 251.
  Stafford, Archbishop, 150.
  St. Albans, Duchess of, 36.
  St. Albans, Henry de, 295.
  St. Alphage, 101, 115.
  Stanfield, William Clarkson, 20.
  Stanhope, Lord, 139.
  Stanmore, 39, 49.
  Stanmore, Great, 51.
  Stanmore, Little, 50.
  St. André, Marshal, 236.
  St. Anselm, 44.
  St. Blaise, 129.
  St. Ebba, 164.
  Steele, Sir Richard, 14, 194, 292.
  Steevens, George, 14.
  Stephen, King, 78.
  St. Erkenwald, 81, 268.
  St. Ethelburga, 81.
  Stevens, Alfred, 20.
  St. Margaret's, 284.
  Stanhope, Lady Hester, 189.
  Stone, Nicholas, 56, 69.
  Stothard, Thomas, 204.
  Stow, John, 231.
  St. Paul, Earl of, 127.
  St. Paulinus, 96, 98.
  Stepniak, 41.
  Strand-on-the-Green, 273, 274.
  Strange, Sir John, 77.
  Stratford-on-the-Lea, 78.
  Strawberry Hill, 287-289.
  Streatham, 135, 215.
  Street, John, 17.
  Strype, John, 77.
  Stuart, Arabella, 54.
  Stubbs, Lawrence, 296.
  St. Valeric, Walter de, 295.
  St. Wulstan, 44.
  Style, Sir Humphrey, 129.
  Suffolk, Duke of, 103, 130, 246.
  Surbiton, 265.
  Sutton, 157, 158.
  Swift, Jonathan, 247, 270, 285.
  Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 190.
  Sydenham, 133-135.
  Sydney, Sir Robert, 162.



  TAIT, ARCHBISHOP, 14, 269.
  Talleyrand, Prince, 18.
  Tallis, Thomas, 112.
  Taylor, Sir Robert, 251.
  Teck, Duchess of, 226, 261.
  Teck, Duke of, 261.
  Teddington, 287-290.
  Temple, John, 248.
  Temple, Sir William, 247, 285.
  Tennyson, Lord, 18, 63.
  Tezelm, 142.
  Thames, river, 174, 183.
  Thames Ditton, 267, 290.
  Thirlby, Thomas, 4.
  Thomas, Giles, 15.
  Thomas à Becket, 210.
  Thompson, Sir William, 178.
  Thomson, James, 257, 258, 259, 270.
  Thornhill, Sir James, 111.
  Thorpe, John, 199.
  Thrale, Mrs., 216.
  Throckmorton, Elizabeth, 108, 215.
  Tierney, William, 187, 204.
  Tijou, Jean, 303.
  Tillotson, 151.
  Tiploft, Lady, 56.
  Toland, John, 167.
  Tonbridge, Richard de, 214.
  Tonson, Jacob, 194, 270.
  Tooke, John Horne, 146, 202, 276.
  Tooke, William, 145, 146.
  Tooting, 208, 211, 216.
  Tottenham, 49.
  Tovi, 57.
  Townley, Nicolas, 290.
  Trench, Archbishop, 46.
  Tuckett, Captain Harvey, 205.
  Turner, J. M. W., 111, 289.
  Turnham Green, 276.
  Turpin, Dick, 63, 91.
  Twickenham, 225, 283, 285, 287, 288.
  Tybourne, river, 9.
  Tyler, the runner, 168.



  UPTON, 79.
  Ursuyk, Sir Thomas, 83.



  VANBRUGH, SIR JOHN, 110.
  Vancouver, Captain George, 263.
  Van der Gutch, 219.
  Vandyck, Sir Anthony, 122, 265.
  Vane, Sir Henry, 13.
  Van Neck, Gerard, 183.
  Varden, Dolly, 67.
  Vaughan, Dr., 46.
  Vaughan, Hugh, 231.
  Vavasour, Sir Thomas, 263.
  Vere, Robert de, 38.
  Verrio, 218, 303.
  Victoria, Queen, 36, 63, 207, 224, 256, 304.
  Villiard, Massey, 233.
  Villiers, George, 193, 276.
  Villiers, Lady Frances, 241.
  Villiers, Sir Edward, 241.
  Voltaire, 173.



  WADDON, 154.
  Waechter, Sir Max, 255, 285.
  Wakefield, George, 257.
  Warbeck, Perkin, 245.
  Waldegrave, William, 78.
  Wallace, Sir William, 38.
  Wallaston, Sir John, 32.
  Wallington, 155.
  Walpole, Honourable Thomas, 136.
  Walpole, Horace, 122, 136, 200,
      251, 283, 287, 288, 292.
  Walpole, Sir Robert, 179, 194, 219, 260.
  Walsingham, Sir Francis, 97, 127, 192, 195.
  Waltham Abbey, 56, 57, 59, 62, 66, 67.
  Waltham Cross, 56.
  Walthamstow, 69, 70.
  Waltheof, 68.
  Wandle, river, 155, 157, 172, 174,
      208, 209, 213, 215.
  Wandsworth, 172-174, 197.
  Wanstead, 70, 71.
  Wanstead Flats, 62, 70.
  Ward, John, 140.
  Ward, Mrs. Henry, 30.
  Warham, Bishop, 39.
  Warlingham, 146.
  Warwick, Earl of, 230.
  Waterlow, Sir Sydney, 32.
  Watling Street, 50.
  Watts, Dr., 33.
  Wat Tyler, 15, 115.
  Wedderburn, Alexander, 14, 216.
  Welbeck, John, 181.
  Welsh Harp, 41, 42.
  Wellesley, Lord, 189, 304.
  Wellesley, W. Tylney Long, 71.
  Wellington, Duke of, 304.
  Wells, river of, 9.
  West, Bishop, 180.
  West, Gilbert, 142.
  Westbourne, river, 9.
  Weston, Sir Richard, 190.
  West Wickham, 94, 140, 141.
  Whetstone, 50.
  Whistler, James M'Neill, 273.
  Whitchurch, 50.
  Whitchurch, Edward, 215.
  Whitefield, George, 34, 116.
  Whitgift, Archbishop, 150, 153, 154.
  Whittington, Dick, 31, 32.
  Whitney, Miss Anne, 18.
  Whyte, Rowland, 162.
  Wicker, Henry, 165.
  Wimbledon, 175, 176, 179, 183,
      185-186, 197, 203, 205-208,
      211, 218.
  Wimbledon, Lord, 200, 203.
  Wilberforce, William, 16, 42, 138, 202.
  Wilkes, John, 173, 276.
  Wilkie, Sir David, 17.
  Willesden, 8, 9.
  Willett, John, 66.
  William the Conqueror, 58, 68,
      81, 94, 98, 118, 119, 130, 148,
      209, 249, 286.
  William III., 109, 156, 242, 247,
      291, 294, 302, 303.
  William IV., 222, 251, 265, 292.
  William, Morgan, 184.
  Williams, David, 37.
  Williams, John, 184.
  Williams, Rev., 296.
  Wilson, Sir Spencer, 4.



  YATES, Mrs., 257.
  York, Duke of, 204, 282.



  ZOFFANY, JOHANN, 226, 274.



Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty





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