Rochester Keep rises to a height of a hundred and twenty-five feet. Walls ranging from ten to twelve feet in thickness attest its old-time strength, and the ornamentation both of the State apartments, and of the Chapel on the third floor, betokens a considerable display made in those far-off times. But although one of the loftiest Norman keeps extant; though strong and internally ornate, it seems to have been built by a copyist of Gundulf who perhaps had neither his resources nor his love of a neat and workmanlike finish. Whatever the cause, certain it is that here we miss the close-jointed external ashlar that we are accustomed to see in such grand contemporary Norman keeps as those of Castle Hedingham and Scarborough. Ashlaring has been only sparingly used for quoins and dressings of door- and window-openings, and the exterior of this keep chiefly shows a broad expanse of roughly set Kentish rag-stone. The result, although it does not commend itself architecturally, is at least bold and rugged and altogether satisfying to the artist.

There is, according to a legend of unknown age, a vast treasure buried beneath the ground here; concealed in some mysterious crypt whose door may only by rarest chance be found. From this door hangs a Hand of Glory, and not until the Hand is extinguished, finger by finger, can it be forced open. Absolute silence is to be observed by the adventurer while extinguishing the Blazing Hand, or the mystic power is broken. There was once, says a sequel to the foregoing legend, a bold and fortunate spirit who had by some means discovered this hidden door. He extinguished the guardian Hand, all but the thumb; and, proceeding to snuff this out also, he uttered an incautious exclamation of triumph. The fingers instantly burst into flame again, and the man was dashed senseless to the ground; nor was he ever again so fortunate as to recover the spot.

XXIII

Rochester has had many Royal and distinguished visitors, and many of them have left traces of their sojourn in more or less quaint, instructive, and amusing accounts. When Edward the First came here in 1300, he gave seven shillings to the Priory for the shrine of Saint William, and twelve shillings compensation to one Richard Lamberd whose horse, hired for the King's service, was blown over Rochester Bridge into the Medway and drowned. On his return from Canterbury, nine days later, the King flung his shillings about in quite a reckless manner; giving seven shillings each for the shrines of Saints Ithamar and Paulinus; while bang went twenty-one other shillings at Chatham, offered to the image of the Blessed Mary by the King, the Queen, and the Prince of Wales.

[Sidenote: ROCHESTER BRIDGE]

The Bridge at Rochester, over which that unfortunate horse was blown, was at this time a crazy structure of wood, and so dangerous that most folks preferred crossing the Medway by boat. One unfortunate minstrel was blown into the water just as he reached the middle, and he went floating down the stream harping the praises of Our Lady upon his harp, and calling out for her help at the same time _in English_, as the chronicler remarks--and this was his English:--

Help usvyf, help usvyf, Oiyer me--I forga mi lyf.

By "usvyf" he meant "wife." "Help us, wife," which strikes us as being extremely familiar.

The Holy Mother, notwithstanding this horrid jargon, was pleased to save him, and this pious "Harpur a Roucestre" landed about a league below the city, making his way forthwith to a church to offer up thanks, and followed by an immense crowd who had been watching the proceedings without attempting to save him, which is ever the way of crowds.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ROCHESTER CASTLE AND THE MEDWAY.]

Fourteen years later, the Queen of Robert Bruce was a State prisoner in Rochester Castle, with her sister and daughter, and here they remained until Bannockburn altered the complexion of affairs. King John of France, too, appears here, and in a grateful mood, for he was going back to his kingdom, and so, to please the saints, made an offering of forty crowns (valued at 6 13_s._ 4_d._) at the Cathedral, departing for "Stiborne,"

and resting the night at Ospringe. Sigismund, Emperor of Germany, pa.s.sed through "Rotschetter" in 1416, with a retinue of a thousand knights, on a visit to Henry the Fifth, and Henry the Seventh was here in 1492, 1494, and 1498, crossing over from Strood in a ferry-boat for which he paid 2, an expense which would have been quite unnecessary had the authorities kept the Bridge (then of stone, and about a century old) in decent repair.

A few months later than his last visit, the King sent the Mayor of the town 5 toward its restoration, for funds were low, and the indulgences--to say nothing of the forty days' remittances from Purgatory for all manner of sins--offered by Archbishop Morton to any one who would give towards the work, were but little in request.

Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, was the next considerable personage here, and of how great a consideration he was may be gathered from the fact that he came up the road from Dover with a train of two thousand attendants. He and Henry the Eighth, who had gone down to Dover to meet him, stayed at Rochester on the night of Sunday, June 1, 1522, and went on to Gravesend the following day. Eighteen years later, the King, already a much-married man, came here to have a private view of his new matrimonial venture.

[Sidenote: HENRY MEETS ANNE]

Two accounts are given of this meeting of Henry the Eighth and Anne of Cleves. They agree neither with themselves nor with that other account in which the King is made to call her a "Flanders mare":--"As she pa.s.sed toward Rochester," writes Hall, the Chronicler, "on New Yeres Even, on Reynam Down, met her the Duke of Norffolke, and the Lord Dacre of the South, and the Lord Mountjoye, with a gret company of Knyghtes and Esquiers of Norffolke and Suffolke, and the Barons of thxchequer, (_sic_) all in coates of velvet with chaynes of golde, which brought her to Rochester, where she lay in the Palace all New Yeres Day. On which day the Kyng, which sore desyred to see her Grace, accompanyed with no more than viii persons of his prevy chaumbre, and both he and thei all aparelled in marble coates, prevely came to Rochester, and sodainly came to her presence, which therwith was sumwhat astonied; but after he had spoken and welcomed her, she with most gracious and lovyng countenance and behavior him received and welcomed on her knees, whom he gently toke up and kyssed; and all that afternoone commoned and devised with her"

(whatever that may mean), "and that night supped with her, and the next day he departed to Grenewich and she came to Dartford." Now hear how different a complexion Stow puts upon this meeting, and then tell me what you think of the difficulties of history-writing:--

"The King being ascertained of her arivall and approch, was wonderfull desirous to see her, of whom hee had heard so great commendations, and thereupon hee came very privately to Rochester, where hee tooke the first view of her; and when he had well beheld her, hee was so marvelously astonished that hee knew not well what to doe or say. Hee brought with him divers things, which hee meant to present her with his owne hands, that is to say, a partlet, a mufler" (Indian shawls had not yet been introduced), "a cup, and other things; but being sodainly quite discouraged and amazed with her presence, his mind changed, and hee delivered them unto Sir Anthony Browne to give them unto her, but with as small show of Kingly kindness as might be. The King being sore vexed with the sight of her, began to utter his heart's griefe unto divers: amongst whom hee said unto the Lord Admirall, 'How like you this woman? Doe you think her so personable, faire, and beautifull as report hath beene made unto mee of her--I pray you tell me true?'"

Whereupon the Lord Admiral discreetly replied no word of dispraise, because people with opinions had in those days an excellent chance of losing their heads; merely remarking that she appeared to have a brown complexion rather than the fair one that had been represented to his Majesty.

"Alas!" replied the King, "whom shall men--to say nothing of kings--trust?

I promise you I see no such thing in her as hath been shewed to me of her, either by pictures or report, and am ashamed that men have praised her as they have done; and I like her not." Which, of course, was final.

Queen Elizabeth, of course, was here, not once but thrice, and on her first visit she stayed at the "Crown" inn, "which," says Francis Thynne, "is the only place to intertaine Princes comming thither." It was, indeed, the place where her father stayed, and where, according to one account, Anne of Cleves lodged; and was the scene of the inimitable colloquy between the carriers in _Henry the Fourth_, just previous to the robbery on Gad's Hill. The "Crown," of course, is gone now, and an ugly building, bearing the same sign, but dating only from 1863, stands on its site.

[Sidenote: "ROGUES AND PROCTORS"]

On the last day of her visit, the queen was entertained by "that charitable man but withal most determined enemy to Rogues and Proctors,"

Master Richard Watts, whose almshouse for the lodgment of six poor travellers bears still upon its front the evidence of his aversions.

Controversy has long raged around the term "proctor," and the victory seems to rest with those who declare that the cla.s.s thus excluded from the benefits of Master Watts' charity was that of the "procurators" who were licensed by the Pope to go through the country collecting "Peter's pence"; but I have my own idea on that point, and I believe that the "proctors"

referred to were not papists, but either "proctors that go up and downe with counterfeit licences, cosiners, and suche as go about the countrey using unlawfull games"; or the "proctors" especially and particularly mentioned in the Statute Edw. VI. c. 3, s. 19, licensed to collect alms for the lepers who at that time were still numerous in England. These privileged beggars were deprived of their immunity from arrest by the "Act for Punishment of Rogues, Vagabonds, and St.u.r.die Beggars" (39 Eliz. c. 4), wherein "all persons that be, or utter themselves to be _Proctors_, procurers, patent gatherers, or collectors for gaols, prisons, or hospitals"[5] are, together with "all Fencers, Bearewards, common players of Interludes, and Minstrels" to be adjudged Rogues and Vagabonds. Now it is sufficiently remarkable that this Act was pa.s.sed (perhaps with the strenuous help of Master Watts, who was a Member of Parliament, and who we see hated proctors so ardently) at about the time when the "Six Poor Travellers" was built, and the reasons for refusing admission either to a true Proctor of a lazar-house, or to a pretended one, must be sufficiently obvious.

Master Watts entertained the Queen at his house on Boley (? Beaulieu) Hill on the last day of her visit, and when that courtly man apologised for the "poor cottage" (he didn't mean it, but 'twas the custom so to do) Her Majesty is supposed to have graciously answered "Satis," and so Satis House it remained, and the hideous building that now stands upon its site still bears, grotesquely enough, its name.

Quite a train of miscellaneous Royalties and celebrities came here after Elizabeth's second visit in 1582; the Duke of Sully; James the First, who angered the seafaring population because he didn't care for the ships, loved hunting, and was afraid of the cannon--James the First again, with Christian the Fourth of Denmark and Prince Henry; Prince Henry by himself in 1611; Frederick, Elector Palatine of Bohemia; Charles the First on two occasions, on the second of which "the trane-bands ... scarmished in warlike manner to His Majesties great content"; the French Amba.s.sador, in 1641, who thought Rochester was chiefly observable on account of its Bridge "furnished with high railings, that drunkards, not uncommon here, may not mix water with their wine"; and nineteen years later, Charles the Second, on his "glorious and never-to-be-forgotten Restoracion."

How Charles was feted here, and how he stayed at the beautiful old place that has taken the name of "Restoration House" from this visit, these pages cannot tell; the story is too long.

[Sidenote: PEPYS]

And here, in the name of all that's lewd and scandal-mongering, comes old Pepys again. It is no use trying to keep him out of one's pages: suppress him at one place, and he recurs unfailingly at another, with a worse record than before. I discreetly "sat on" him at Deptford, but here he is at Rochester, "goin' on hawful," to quote one of d.i.c.kens' characters (I forget which, and the society of so many Kings and Queens on the Dover Road is so fatiguing that I have neither sufficient time nor energy to inquire).

Well then, it was in 1667[6] that Mr. Samuel Pepys came here, and, putting up at the "White Hart," strolled into the Cathedral, more intent upon the architecture than the doctrine, it would seem; for when service began he walked out into the fields, and there "saw Sir F. Clark's pretty seat."

And so "into the Cherry Garden, and here he met with a young, plain, silly shopkeeper and his wife, a pretty young woman, and I did kiss her!" And after this they dined, and walked in the fields together till dark, "and so to bed," without the usual "G.o.d forgive me!" which, considering how he had shirked the Cathedral service, and how questionable had been his conduct in the Cherry Garden, was more needful than ever, one would think.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HIGH STREET, ROCHESTER: EASTGATE HOUSE.]

Twenty-one years after this date came James the Second on two hurried visits to Rochester within a few days of one another. If he had had time, and had been in a sufficiently calm frame of mind, he might have reflected on the vicissitudes of Kings in general, and of his own Royal House in particular; but being shockingly upset, and in a mortal terror lest he should lose his head as thoroughly in a physical sense as he had already done in a figurative way of speaking, he lost that opportunity of coolly reviewing his position which, had it but been seized, would have led him to return to London and stay there. It is not a little sad to reflect that, had the gloomy and morose James not been a coward, the House of Stuart might still have ruled England. At any rate, men did not love the taciturn Prince of Orange and his Dutchmen so well but what they would have gladly done without him and have taken back their King, if that King had only shown a little more spirit and a little less of religious bigotry. William could not but perceive that his principles and not his person were acclaimed, and when he gave the King leave to retire to Rochester, he both knew that James desired an opportunity to escape from the kingdom, and hoped he would use it. And he did use the chance so gladly given him, secretly departing from Rochester in the small hours of a December morning, and making for Ambleteuse on the French coast in a fishing-smack.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JACK IN HIS GLORY. _From a painting by Julius Caesar Ibbetson._]

XXIV

This was the last romantic event that befell at Rochester, and it fitly closed a stirring history.

But Chatham and Rochester, although outward romance had departed, did not cease to be interested in naval and military affairs. Indeed, they have grown continually greater on them.

[Sidenote: HOGARTH'S SATIRES]

It was in 1756 that the plates of _England_ and _France_ were published by Hogarth. We were suffering then from one of those panic fears of invasion by the French to which this country has been periodically subject, and these efforts were consequently calculated to have a large sale. Hogarth, of course, after his arrest for sketching at Calais, was morbidly, vitriolically patriotic, and his work is earnest of his feelings. The English are seen drilling in the background of the first plate, while in front of the "Duke of c.u.mberland" inn a recruit is being measured, and smiles at the caricature of the King of France which a grenadier is painting on the wall. A long inscription proceeds from the mouth of His Most Christian Majesty, "You take a my fine ships, you be de Pirate, you be de Teef, me send you my grand Armies, and hang you all, Morbleu," and he grasps a gibbet to emphasize the words. Meanwhile, a fifer plays "G.o.d Save the King"; a soldier in the group has placed his sword across a great cheese; and a sailor has guarded his tankard of beer with a pistol.

But see how different are things across the Channel. Outside the _Sabot Royal_ a party of French grenadiers, lean and hungry-looking after their poor fare of _soupe maigre_, are watching one of their number cook the sprats he has spitted on his sword. A monk with a grin of satisfaction feels the edge of an axe which he has taken from a cart full of racks and other engines of torture destined towards the furnishing of a monastery at Blackfriars in London, of which a plan is seen lying upon this heap of ironmongery; and a file of soldiers may be seen in the distance, reluctantly embarking for England, and spurred forward by the point of the sergeant's halberd. Garrick wrote the patriotic verses that went with this picture, and you may see from them how constantly Englishmen have thought the French to be a nation of lean and hungry starvelings. That is, of course, as absurd as the unfailing practice of French caricaturists to whom the typical Englishman is a creature who has red hair and protruding teeth, and says "G.o.ddam"--

With lanthorn jaws and croaking gut, See how the half-starv'd Frenchmen strut, And call us English dogs; But soon we'll teach these bragging foes, That beef and beer give heavier blows Than soup and roasted frogs.

The priests, inflam'd with righteous hopes, Prepare their axes, wheels, and ropes, To bend the stiff-neck'd sinner: But, should they sink in coming over, Old Nick may fish 'twixt France and Dover, And catch a glorious dinner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE INVASION OF ENGLAND: ENGLAND. _After Hogarth._]