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TOPOGRAPHICAL MUSEUM–No. XIX.
SANDWICH.-Is raised on the ruins of a l) commodious harbour. In 1216, Louis the place called Richborough, in the parish of Dauphin, afterwards Louis VIII. sailed into Ashe; the precise time of the foundation this port with six hundred ships and eighty capuot easily be traced, but it was probably | boats, landed, and continued at Sandwich before the Britons were driven out by the I till he was joined by the discontented Saxous: the Welch called it the Sandy || Barons. Ford, of which the modern name is only When England, in 1457, had been exa translation. Its form alone seems suffi- | pelled its ancient domains in France, it recient to excite the suspicion that Sandwich | ceived additional mortification by a petty had been a Roman station; but there are invasion from Normandy. Pierre de Breze not the least vestiges of Roman architecture; || collected out of the French garrisons four por are any coins or antiquities ever dug thousand men, and landed at Sandwich, up belonging to the Romans: it may, there- || putting the inhabitants to the sword, and fore, be justly concluded to have been of pillaging the town without mercy. Saxon origin. It is built on a flat, elevated This once important port is now conabout fifteen feet above the rest of the plain, |tracted to a very inconsiderable stream; in a town containing about six thousand the date of its destruction to its present jnhabitants; the streets are numerous, nar state must be confined to the space between row, and irregularly disposed. Over the 1457 and 1573. The town of Sandwich is river is a bridge of two stone arches: prior | large, but contains little worthy the reto this bridge was a ferty of very remote searches of the curious. The Hospital of antiquity; having been granted by Ead. St. Thomas was founded in 1992, by Thobert, King of Kent, who died in 748, to mas Ellis, a drafter in this town, for twelve thie Abbey of St. Augustine, in Canterbury. I poor persons. This hospital is still kept In 1349 it was bestowed by Edward III. | up, and comfortably supports eight brothers on the Hospital of St. Bartholomew, at and three sisters, having a revenue of one Sandwichi, till the building of the bridge, || hundred and sixty-two pounds eleven shil. in 1755, by virtue of an act of parliament, | lings. The founder is recorded to have which secures sixty-two pounds per annum been so opulent as to have lent to that to the Hospital, being the greatest rent spendthrift monarch, Richard II. forty ever made by the ferry.
pounds! Many of the posterity of the Flemish re CANTERBURY—The capital of Kent, and fugees are still inhabitants of this town, situated about half a mile distant from a and carry on the business introduced by village named Halkington. Canterbury their ancestors, who had set up manufac- was, without dispute, a Roman city; the tures of flannel, baize, and sayes, which form of it is inclined to the oval, and the trade was once very considerable, but at circuit is one mile five furlongs thirty-two present totally lost. The staple for wool | perches and thirteen feet. Many parts of was placed here by Edward I.; removed, the walls have traces of Roman bricks, and again restored by Richard II. As an which are proofs of the original builders : idea of its ancient opulence, in the reign of these marks are certainly becoming very Edward IV. the customs yielded annually || rare, by reason of frequent repairs. On between sixteen and seventeen thousand | the place where the cathedral now stands, pounds, and even in that of James I. near was a Roman Christian church, granted to three thousand. Sandwich is one of the St. Augustine, in 597, by King Ethelbert. Cinque Ports, and in the reign of Edward || It is built with great simplicity, of Roman IV. had ninety-five ships belonging to it, brick mixed with flint and stone: this is and above fifteen hundred sailors.
supposed to be the oldest church in the Edward the Confessor made this town kingdom now in use ; the font is remark. his usual place of residence; in bis days ably curious, and is evidently of Saxon the houses in number were three hundred work. and seven, and it was a most extensive and The cathedral is in the Gothic style, and
of great beauty and elegance; the elevation without end: a hundred thousand devotees of the choir is uncommonly grand, but it is have been known to visit it in one year; wretchedly fitted up with modern wains even crowned heads fulbilled this duty. cot. Behind the screen is a flight of steps Among others Louis VII. came over in which leads to the chapel of the Holy || 1179 in the disguise of a common pilgrim: Trinity; a very curious and elegant piece he presented a valuable cup of gold, and of work. Between the pillars are frequent also the famous jewel called the regal of tombs; that of Henry IV. and his wife, France, wbich Henry VIII. afterwards Queen Joan of Navarre, have their figures
wore as a thumb-ring. Louis granted the represented in a recumbent posture; these monks a huudred tous of wine, to be paid figures are formed of alabaster. Henry annually in Paris: he kept watch a whole died in 1414; bis Queen erected this mo- night at the tomb, and in the morning renument to his memory, and followed him quested to be admitted to the holy fraterin 1437. Here also reposes the gallant nity; he was indulged in his demand, tohero Edward the Black Prince, the valiant gether with Henry II. son of Edward III.; his figure is in brass,
The chapter-room is ninety-two feet by recumbent, with uplifted hands; he is thirty-seven, and is fifty-four feet high. habited in complete armour: he was buried | The pillars of the stalls on the sides are of here by his own order.
Petworth marble. In this place Henry II. Beyond is a chapel of a circular form, | underwent the severity of his humiliating called Becket's Crown: beneath, in a cir penance of being scourged by the monks cular vault, was his place of interment, or for the murder of Thomas-à-Becket: the rather the spot where the monks hastily sharp penance being over, he returned to deposited his body, for fear it should be the tomb, where he continued all the day exposed to the fowls of the air, as the in prayer, and all the next night, not sufassassins had threatened : his remains were fering a carpet to be spread for his accomafterwards translated to the venerable modation, but kneeling all the time on the shrine so much spoken of by historians, ' finty pavement. Duriug all this time he where they remained till Cromwell, by took no food, and, except when he otfered order of Henry VIII. directed his bones to his naked body to be scourged, he was be taken out and consumed to ashes. clothed in sackcloth; and that he might
The following description of the shrine, fully expiate his sin, he assigned a revenue abridged from that authentic topographist, i of forty pounds a year to keep lights always Stowe, cannot fail, we think, of proving in- burning, in honour of Becket, about his teresting to our readers.
tomb. The shrine was built of the height of an The cloisters remain entire, and form a ordinary man, all of stone, then upward of large square on the west side of the body plain timber, within which was a chest of of this fine cathedral; through them is iron, containing the skull and bones of the entrance into the chapter house. Thomas-à-Becket: on the skull was mark As soon as King Ethelbert had present. ed the wound whereby he received bis ed the ancient church to St. Augustine, death. The timber-work on the outside that apostle of England founded a mowas covered with plates of gold, damasked nastery at Canterbury, and dedicated it with gold wire, which ground of gold was
to our saviour Christ. The Archbishops again covered with jewels set in gold, made it their cathedral, and placed it unand rings, ten or twelve, cramped with
der the care of a dean and secular canons. gold wire into the said ground of gold : : Ealfric, in 1003, turned them out and rethe stones were of every precious kind, placed them with mouks. The seculars with pearls of an immense size, and formed repossessed themselves, till Lanfranc, in into brooches, images, and angels. This 1080, rebuilt the cathedral and adjacent rich spoil, when carried from the shrine buildings, ruined by the Danes, and placed by order of Henry VIII, filled two great in them a hundred and fifty Benedictines, chests, such as six or seven strong men with a prior. The Archbishop being concould scarcely carry.
sidered as Abbot, it was called the Priory This shrine was the object of pilgrimage ll of the Church of the Holy Trinity, or of
THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.
Christ Church. The last prior was Tho miles distant from the main land. They mas Goldwell, who, with sixty-eight of have over them, at all times, so little water, his monks, subscribed to the King's supre as not to be any where passable, unless by niacy.
very small vessels, and at the ebb, are, in DEAL-A very long town, extending a many places, dry: this occasions a lingergreat way, parallel to, and very near, the ing death to the unhappy people who are beach. It consists chiefly of three narrow wrecked on them at low water : they often streets, with some buildings on the west pass, with horrible view, the intermediate side, the ancient part of the town. Deal space between their getting on the sands is entirely supported by the shipping, lying and the return of the tide: if they chance in the Downs: every shop is full of punch- to be seen from land, and a boat is able to bowls, drinking-glasses, cloaths, and every put to sea, they are sometimes happily rething to supply a sailor's wants. The pros- lieved : and, highly to the honour of the perity of this town may be dated from the inhabitants of Deal, they are all ready to increase of British commerce, and the con hazard their lives, to save those of their sequent increase of the multitudes of ships, fellow-creatures. which make the Downs their rendezvous A little beyond the town of Deal, is the in their outward and in ward voyages.- castle, where Anne of Cleves, in Novem. They are the only roads in which vessels ber, 1540, made her inauspicious landing, can ride, from hence as far as St. Helen's. as the wife of Henry Vill. but was only a The Downs, or road, lies between the laud | disgusting object to the fickle monarch, and the famous Godwin Sands, about which | who repudiated her, after bestowing on so much has been fabled. That they had her the appellation of a Flanders' mare! once been a solid and populous tract, the About a mile further, stands Walmer property of Earl Godwin, Earl of Kent, Castle, the third of Henry's upon this range: is credible enough ; yet a natural solution there, at no great distance from the church, may be more probable, than that they were are still some remains of the mansion of a swallowed up on account of his extreme Sir John Kiriel, who had a considerable wickedness: it was certainly effected by that command under Henry V. at Agincourt. vast inundation which took place in the year His son, Sir Thomas, Knight of the Garter, 1100, when part of Holland was overflowed, was barbarously put to death by Margaret and the water carried from this part of the sea of Anjou, after the first battle of St. Al. rendered it so shallow, that places which, ban's. before, might have been safely passed over, On the summit of a chalky cliff is the became dangerous shoals: yet, even the God- || church of St. Margaret-at-Cliffe, a foundawin Sands have their utility; ships anchor or tion of great antiquity: the windows, and moor beneath their shelter, and find pro- || the door beneath the ruined steeple, are of tection from the winds, unless in very ex Saxon architecture, with round -arches. traordinary tempests. The Godwin Sands | The first mention of this church is in the consist of two parts, divided in the middle reign of Edward I. when his Queen Eliby four narrow channels, about two fathoms nor bestowed the advowson on Christ. deep. The Sands extend ten miles along || Church, Canterbury: St. Margaret's church the coast, north and south, vergiug towards is a leading mark for seamen into the inner the east, and from three and a half to six channel of the Downs.
THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER; A TALE OF PAST TIMES.
Seated in the baronial hall of the had to mourn the effects of bis prowessdemesne given him by his master, Alfred, || many a Danishi maiden had strained her Duke Edrick was surrounded by his vassals, | eye over the whitened shore, expecting the and, in receiving their oaths of allegiance, return of her lover, whom the swords of he fancied himself even equal to the sove Edrick's followers bad laid low in the dust. reign of England. Many a Danislı mother I Deeds of honour had gained Edrick the
love of his King; and the wapentakes of, she burst into tears, happily unperceived Sussex were given to him to reigo over, by her father. Again the bard was inspire as some recompense for the many leagues ed-he struck a prelude which enchanted of land which he had caused the Danes to all; they seized their arms, in rapture, as relinquish. His bosom was raised high in for the combat, but each tongue was silent, exultation, on finding himself Lord of so and all was hushed, save the repressed goodly a territory-a territory, lost by his clank of armour, as the Knights regained father's disloyalty to Athelstan, but re their seats. The hoary musician's cheek deemed by himself on a return to his alle was flushed with a hectic flush; a holy ingiance.
spiration gave a fire to his eye; and while This hall of audience was extensive to his fingers struck the chords of his liarp, the gaze; it was built in all the majesty of be sung the praise of the chieftain's daughfeudal time—it rose in ample grandeur— ter~he sung the praise of Immasimple and unadorned, save by the wav
“ Fair as chaste, as chaste as fair.” ing trophy, the hauberk, or the cuiarss, intermingled with the cross-bow or the
At such a congratulation, she rose, in glittering spear. Looks of festive joy
virgin diffidence, and thanked him, though beamed in every visage, the wassail in a voice checked with sobs; and, overbowl passed off, and returned, till Duke
come by the praises of her father, she cast Edrick called on the minstrel. All then her eyes fearfully around the hall, and sunk was hushed, as the retiring wave from the senseless into his arms. While the stern distant shore, while the hoary bard sung
Edrick was chiding her, and the timid of deeds of valour and of wisdom, achieved Imma was ascribing the acuteness of her by England's Solon. In the midst of a feelings to some ominous cause (which, in crowd of warriors, shone, like a brilliant those days of superstition, haunted, occastar, Duke Edrick's daughter, on whom her sionally, the strongest mind), a confusion father doated, and considered as the step- of sounds arose from that part of the hall ladder to his ambition, and in prospect as
from which Imma had withdrawn her a sharer of his monarch's bed. Inima's sight; it broke out, as though the foeman form was the most beautiful that can be had them in his toils. As the smoke of imagined; she was fair as marble-her battle rolls on in destruction-as the dust eyes were of celestial blue, lighting a face of the war-horse approaches nearer and full of the most tender, bewitching, and
nearer still--so come the sounds of dis. expressive languislıment-her cheeks were content to Duke Edrick's seat._“I heed fresh-tinted by the rose blossom, but her thee not,” exclaimed Lord Hildebrande, in lips and teeth were such as a painter might a voice above the din ; “ I tell thee to thy attempt to imitate, but could never realize. teeth, and I'll tell it all who'll hear, Duke Her hair, of clear flaxen, unadorued and Edrick is deceived, and Imma is no longer uurestrained, strayed over her fine and chaste as fair-sbe is a wanton!" falling shoulders; she bent forward to the At such a charge, again were murmurs bard's potes, as if in admiration of his loud and deep; they poured through the theme, but the harper's strains were far' ball of audience. A hundred helmets from oecupying her thoughts. Unhappy shook, a hundred swords left their scabgirl ! she was dwelling on those, which bards, but Lord Hildebrande again extold her misery must ever be her portion,' claimed, aloud, By the Holy Ghost and how much more she thought her fate she's false ; Imma has disgraced her sex.” was to be lamented than that of any other -“ Proud Hildebrande, thou liest," exdamsel. The lay finished, the bard regain-' claimed Childe Edmund; the storm of pased his seat-the carousal again commenced, sion shook his heaving frame-he snatched and Duke Edrick roused his daughter from off his greave, it whirled in the air, and Facuity by a loud and deep reproach. He striking the accuser of Imma, who took demanded, why she, alone, joined not in the pledge, and demanding the ordeal, the general joy, on beholding him in the swore to prove the charge. The affrighted hall of his ancestors ? Imma essayed to Imma now raised herself, in conscious inspeak, but her words were inarticulate; nocence; she indignantly threw back those
THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.
tresses which would have hid her face; he dared not subject her to another by enshe would have defended, with an undaunt- tering the castle; he, therefore, saw her ed eye, her character, but she met a father's not, and, becoming a prey to the acutest reproachful look; a chilly paleness over- || anguish, he wandered about the dwelling, spread her, and she bent, like a lily in a unconscious where he bent his steps. storm, into the arms of Childe Edmund. Childe Edmund, as he was called, had
When Lady Imma awoke from her trance, long loved the gentle Imma, and, ere she every thing bore a dreadful silence; in vain was aware, she returned his love; they she attempted to raise herself from her feared it was impossible they could ever couch, her limbs appeared paralyzed ; she be upited, but there was such a luxury in put her hand to her head, her brain was even their cheared hopes, that they rather maddening; it is true, a refreshing breeze | chose to encourage a mutua) attachment, burst in upon her from the open casement, 1) accompanied with future misery, than to yet it lasted but a moment; a hotter glow call upon the resources of sense and reasucceeded, and threatened to check all son, and to use that fortitude which teaches respiration; she gazed wildly aroand her; us to endure misfortune patiently. Childe she paused, to think, but yet seemed fear- Edmund was merely the protegée of Duke ful of recalling remembrance; she put her Edrick, and, without a single quarterfinger on the blood-bursting lids of hering of pobility in his shield, had been ever eyes, distended with fever ; she pored over, viewed with contempt by Lord Hildeunconsciously, the storied painting, which brande, as a protected vassal: this vassal the last rays of a setting sun emblazoned had, however, been preferred to bim by and reflected from the bay window; and the Lady Imma, and he swore to be his as conviction of what was to happen dawn- ruin, by bell, book, and candle. ed in her mind, she endeavoured to shut Love, in those days, had no employment, out its reality: she shrunk into herself—a save to chide the time with sighs and exfrightful slumber steeped her faculties inclamations; for the life of a murderer misery, and tortured her diseased imagina was sacred, on being proved able to read tion.
and write; these attainments were not Such a charge as Lord Hildebrande's, presumed to be those of females ; and a was not to be made with impunity. When lady was deemed a prodigy who was enthe first storms of indignation were over, |abled, by her pen, to carry on a correshe was allowed to speak, as follows:- 1 pondence. No pert chambermaid was
Returning last, on the eve of St. Francis, then the conveyer of a billet-doux. Thus from a border post, I entered a dingle in Imma and Childe Edmund were obliged the forest; there I saw the Lady Imma to vent their complaints to the air, to themrush into the arms of a man, who wore the selves, or to inanimate things, without scarf that now Childe Edmund wears. Iconsolation, and without pity. “My faam not mad-I am Lord Edrick's friend : | ther," said the unfortunate Imma, “believes I pledge myself for the truth of what I me guilty, but I am not, and Edmund utter, and let her disloyal Knight defend | knows I am innocent: and oh! my dear her if he can."-1p saying this, each war.
mother, look down from heaven, pity your rior slunk away, to see the decision by poor child, and shield her from despair.” mutual combat.
The following morning, Imma arose unFearful that violent emotions might rack refreshed from her couch ; she walked as the bosom of the gentle Imma, Edmund one whose soul was fled, but whose budy left the hall to seek her; love is seldom was doomed to wander in unconsciousuess : accompanied by prudence, or he had never it was yet but twilight, and the spear and sought a secret interview. Now the Baron the lance trembled in the cold air; soon Edrick trembled with passion, and he the guards paraded in a quicker step on swore, if guilty, to sacrifice both to his re their posts, and, at length, all was bustle venge. From the maidens of her house, and animation. She had walked on the Childe Edmund learned Imma was in her battlements, and, seated like the genius of chamber. As he was the cause of the in- suspense, her tresses spreading in the wandignity which Hildebrande had offered her, 1 ton air, she started at the sound of the