THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ^i^
 
 SIR RALPH DE RAYNE AND LILIAN GREY
 
 n--' 
 
 V
 
 SIR RALPH DE RAYNE 
 AND LILIAN GREY 
 
 Jl llcgcnb of the ^bbcg Chixrch, <St. ^Ibvms 
 
 By FRANCIS BENNOCH, f.s.a., m.r.s.l., etc. 
 
 STRAHAN & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 56 LUDGATE HILL, LONDON 
 
 1872
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BV VIRTUE AND CO., 
 
 CITY ROAD.
 
 PR 
 
 TO 
 
 THE LORD HIGH PRESIDENT 
 
 AND OTHER MEMBERS 
 01' 
 
 THE NOVIOMAGIAN BROTHERHOOD,* 
 
 i;his glcgcnb is ^cbicatcb 
 
 AS A REMEMBRANCE OF THEIR VISIT TO 
 
 ST. ALBANS, 
 July, 1869, 
 
 BY THEIR LAUREATE. 
 
 * See Note L 
 
 ^1*'
 
 A LEGENB OF THE 
 
 ABBEY CHURCH, ST. ALBAXS.* 
 
 The Summer sun shone brightly down, 
 And burnished Maetyk Alban's town,"''' 
 As, 'wakening from its drowsy state. 
 It rose for the approaching fete. 
 
 The clamorous bells in joyance rang, 
 The harpers harped, the minstrels sang. 
 Triumphal arches bared the trees, 
 Gay banners fluttered in the breeze, 
 As thronging through the narrow street 
 Came buoyant youths and maidens sweet. 
 And sprightly dames, and stolid squires, 
 And youngsters clad in gay attires ; 
 For she, the fairest of the land. 
 Had pledged her troth, would give her hand 
 ,* See Notes 2 and 3.
 
 8 
 
 To one right worthy, loved by all, — 
 Sir Ralph de Rayne, of Vintey Hall : 
 And now had come the nuptial-day 
 Of brave Sir Ralph and Lilian Grey.* 
 
 Bands trooped from Goehambury's towers,* 
 From old St. Michael's shady bowers,* 
 From Royal Windsor's princely halls. 
 And Hatfield's ivy-mantled walls : 
 From Sopwell's cloisters, dark and low,* 
 Came hooded nuns in movement slow, 
 So prim, precise, demure, and staid. 
 They bring the brighter picture shade. 
 Think not they come to bless or cheer : 
 No ! firm in purpose, proud, austere, — 
 Resolved to excommunicate 
 The gentle bride as renegate ; 
 For she had come beneath their ban, 
 In listening to the vows of man 
 Against their creed, which blazoned stood 
 To guide the dreary sisterhood : 
 " STbc pur£ in j^catt sljonlb rist abobe 
 ^11 jjussioir tbrocs of human lobt." 
 * See Notes 4, 6, and 6.
 
 They seemed so gentle — void of art — 
 They almost won the maiden's heart ; 
 And yet she could not help but feel 
 That something more than holy zeal — 
 Seclusion stern — a weary call ! — 
 The God of life demands from all. 
 
 So wonder not the dismal train, 
 Emerging from the neighbouring plain, 
 Should seek the Abbey Chukch, and there''' 
 Denounce the recreant sister fair. 
 Oh, what to them love, joy, or health ! 
 They knew she had unbounded wealth. 
 Which, from the ages far away. 
 Concentred now in Lilian Grey. 
 The loss of one might peril both. 
 Which made the pious sisters wroth — 
 Wrath keenly felt and undisguised : 
 Revenge was sweet — revenge they prized. 
 
 The curse a wandering monk had framed 
 The Abbess as her own proclaimed. 
 Severe and cold, o'er her white face 
 No smile e'er crept with rippling grace, 
 
 * See Note 7-
 
 10 
 
 Which, welling up, reveals the good 
 In kindly-hearted womanhood. 
 The lip compressed, the pallid cheek, 
 And deep-set eye, fell purpose speak. 
 To firmly seize and cast aside 
 All hindrances to power and pride. 
 
 Apart the Abbess musing stood, 
 Conflicting passions stii'red her blood, 
 A hidden fire was seen to burn, 
 Some secret thought she seemed to spurn ; 
 In slow, deliberate undertone 
 She spoke — 'twas well she stood alone : 
 " What if the maid my might defies ? 
 What if her lord my threats despise ? 
 I've that within my secret power 
 Will make the boldest blanch and cower. 
 Even at the altar, whilst they stand 
 Husband and wife, clasped hand in hand, 
 My voice shall rise — so loud and clear 
 That heaven, and earth, and hell may hear 
 ^natbcma! — that withering cry — 
 Hjo, slccpltss \ibt — uitparboncL) bit I"
 
 11 
 
 An orphan child, the maiden fair 
 Was left beneath the Abbess' care, 
 To cherish, guide, and recreate, 
 In manner worthy her estate. 
 Though kept within the cloisters' gloom. 
 The early bud was now in bloom. 
 The cheek assumed a richer dye, 
 A deeper lustre filled the eye ; 
 With knowledge and experience grew 
 Impulsive yearnings, sweet and new — 
 A wider range, a deeper sense 
 Of woman's power and consequence ; 
 Her thoughts, matured, refined, profuse. 
 Were ne'er designed for hidden use. 
 The sisters sought her heart to gain — 
 " Perhaps as Abbess she might rebjn.'" ^ 
 But ere her term novitiate closed, 
 SiE Ralph a diiFerent life proposed. 
 Unknown to abbess, nurse, or guard. 
 They met, where none kept watch or ward, 
 Beneath the shade of arching trees. 
 Whose leaves made music in the breeze. 
 A fitter place could not have been 
 For knight and maid to woo unseen.
 
 12 
 
 How many a day from morn till eve 
 The dull routine her soul would grieve ! 
 Or if relieved by menial toil, 
 Her spirit would from all recoil. 
 In contrast to her murky cell, 
 Where sickly odours dankly dwell, 
 Was that serene and lovely sight. 
 The starry sky and moon so bright : 
 Why, self-immured, there die and rot, 
 Forgetting all, by all forgot, 
 When she, like any bird, might be 
 Uncaged, a being blest and free ? 
 
 How sweet to feel his circling arm. 
 His pleasant breath, come soft and warm, 
 Or, looking up, believe his eyes 
 Were starry guides to Paradise ! 
 The tale was told — the truth revealed, 
 And loving lips the compact sealed. 
 
 Tradition still with rapture swells. 
 As on the rare event it dwells, 
 On each minutest circumstance. 
 Of steed, and banneret, and lance ;
 
 13 
 
 How, in their dazzling suits arrayed, 
 Shone those who joined the cavalcade, 
 And formed a bridal train so gay, 
 As body-guard to Lilian Grey. 
 
 Two noble pages tripped beside. 
 To urge, restrain, or gently guide 
 Her prancing palfrey, creamy white. 
 With gorgeous trappings all bedight, 
 Perfect in form — with ambling tread. 
 And arched neck, and comely head. 
 With whinnying voice and ears elate. 
 As proud to bear so fair a freight. 
 O'er breezy fields they gaily moved, 
 Through winding lanes the blossoms loved, 
 Adown the sloping west they came. 
 Passed fields with poppies all aflame. 
 Skirting the miller's lake-like dam,* 
 Where swans in pride of plumage swam. 
 And over buried Verulam ! 
 Old HEATHEN Verulam, whose stones* 
 Were filched to build the church, whence tones 
 
 * See Notes 8 and 9.
 
 14 
 
 Of prayer and praise continuous rise, 
 In lifting spirits to the skies ! 
 As our weak frames of dusty clay 
 Must toil and fret their little day, 
 With hope, and fear, and joy, and strife. 
 Preparing for a loftier life ! 
 
 The bride alighted at the gate. 
 Where smiling dames her coming wait. 
 With swelling hearts and kindly eyes, 
 To greet the blushing sacrifice. 
 They quickly form a bridal train. 
 And up the aisle march twain and twain ; 
 The matrons first, and then the bride. 
 Then rosy bride's-maids, side by side, 
 Who at the altar steps divide, 
 And stem awhile the flowing tide. 
 
 Three score of virgins, draped in white, 
 Bear baskets piled with blossoms bright, 
 To strew with flowers and leaflets rare 
 The pathway of the wedded pair ; 
 Approach with measured step — defile, 
 And line with Hght the bending aisle :
 
 15 
 
 Youths, smiling, watched the dainty feet 
 Keep time to music low and sweet. 
 So fair a sight had seldom been 
 In sacred fane or palace seen. 
 
 A mason carving high — alone — 
 The stately column's clustered stone,* 
 Suspended work, to watch below 
 The ceaseless current's ebb and flow ; 
 The gi-aceful forms — the glistening eyes — 
 The whisperings sweet — the fond replies, 
 By which the cherished hope's revealed. 
 And hearts wath love are touched and sealed. 
 He, musing, gazed until they seem 
 The mirror'd phantoms in a dream. 
 Transfixed he sate : — when all were gone 
 He felt insensible as stone ; 
 But never more resumed his skill — 
 The column stands unfinished still ! 
 
 The church was filled above — below, 
 With ladies bright, a lovely show 
 Of rounded forms and radiant eyes, 
 Which sculptors might as models prize, — 
 * Notes 10 and 11.
 
 16 
 
 When through the eager, waiting crowd 
 A whisper ran : " Behold a cloud, 
 Foreboding ill, inveils the sun ! — 
 The hour-glass sand has nearly run ! — 
 The bride awaits ! — the bride's forgot ! — 
 The laggard knight deserves her not ! " 
 
 Uncertain as the winds — they change ; 
 Now all rejoice, since Hubert Strange, 
 From off the high embattled tower, 
 Descried the nearing cloud of stour : 
 *' Within a mile their plumes appear — 
 Soon, soon the bridegroom will be here ! " 
 
 If others murmured, Ralph de Rayne 
 Might well of our neglect complain ; 
 To him and his, in sooth, 'tis time 
 We bend the cm-rent of our rhyme. 
 
 From ancient hall and bustling town, 
 From grassy vale and upland brown, 
 The noblest, bravest of the land. 
 To swell the bridegroom's joyous band 
 Came coursing up with dawning light, 
 To cheer the heart, and please the sight.
 
 17 
 
 So full of frolic, youth, and glee. 
 The flower of England's Chivalry, 
 
 A score of miles, or more, divide 
 The happy bridegroom from his bride ; 
 And thus from Vintry's fair abode 
 The gathered gallants early rode ; 
 They rode through forests deep and dark, 
 O'er furzy heaths, by grange and park, 
 Through narrow ways — o'er open plains. 
 With gorges ploughed by recent rains. 
 On, on they rode with songs of mirth, 
 Whilst Summer sunshine bathed the earth. 
 Though most were handsome, fair and tall, 
 Sir Rai.ph rode high — a head o'er all ; 
 In hawking, hunting, joust, or ring. 
 They were his subjects, he their king. 
 And when they reached the rounded 
 
 height, 
 Whence Alban's Church appeared in sight,' 
 With reverence bowed each faithful knight. 
 The lovely view that met their eyes, 
 Awakened wonder and surprise ; 
 
 * Note 2. 
 c
 
 18 
 
 The undulating valley green, 
 The sombre woods, the glades serene, 
 The glittering Ver, in windings bright. 
 Like thread of molten silver white, — 
 What more on earth could man of bliss 
 Desire than such a home as this ? 
 
 A while entranced, they glad surveyed 
 The lovely scene of light and shade, 
 And half reluctant moved again. 
 Descending slowly to the plain. 
 
 Where two roads joined, — a dusky shade 
 By overhanging branches made, — 
 A moment's halt was called for, there 
 To set the train in order fair. 
 
 The word was given, again they move 
 Some paces on, beyond the grove, 
 Where stands the sculptured Druid stone. 
 Whence — why that shriek and heavy groan ? 
 An arrow, shot from bow unseen. 
 Athwart the host, with glittering sheen. 
 Flew like a flickering bolt of light. 
 With point of steel and feather white.
 
 19 
 
 And pierced the neck of Ralph de Rune,* 
 Who prostrate fell upon the plain. 
 A quivering throb — a pool of gore — 
 In death he lay, to rise no more. 
 
 Alarmed, each knight his comrade scanned. 
 Each fearing each the deed had planned. 
 Whilst all, with consternation blind, 
 Stood still, the traitor slipped behind, 
 And quickly sprang the bank, and flew 
 For refuge in the Forest New. 
 It happed, that whilst he urged his horse 
 Through tangled ways of fern and gorse, 
 A knight who'd wandered from the throng, 
 A minstrel knight, who conn'd a song, — 
 A bridal song, of smiles and sighs, '^ 
 To win applause from ladies' eyes, — 
 Brave Monte Rocco, from Peovence, 
 Who deftly plied sword, pen, and lance. 
 Was roused from his delicious dream. 
 When flashed across his eyes a gleam. 
 Reflected clear from polished steel. 
 He started — paused — with lifted heel 
 
 * See Note 12, and " Bridal Song," p. 29.
 
 20 
 
 Stood high — beheld a cowering knight 
 Ketreating from the troop in flight. 
 Suspecting cowardice, or wrong, 
 He thought no more of tune or song ; 
 Nor reasoned he — the impulse given 
 Seemed inspiration straight from heaven. 
 He clutched the rein — clipped close the knee, 
 For none his Arab steed could flee. 
 Resolved at once, he gave him chace — 
 'Twas pity few beheld the race ! 
 With every bound of flying Bess, 
 The space between gi-eAv less and less ; 
 As nearer and more near he drew, 
 Too well the crouching knight he knew. 
 Swift as the lightning's scathing flash. 
 His glittering blade was drawn, and crash 
 Through casque of steel, of azure blue, 
 He clove the grizzly head in two : 
 As down the unerring falchion fell. 
 Up rose, released, a hideous yell. 
 In circles, eddying round and round. 
 Till swallowed by the yawning ground ; 
 The gibing laugh, the dying wail, 
 Made even Monte Rocco quail.
 
 21 
 
 Recovering from his sense of dread, 
 He thus apostrophised the dead : — ■ 
 " Oh, heaven is just, and will avenge ; 
 I now my sister's wrongs revenge ! 
 'Tis thou, false Ulkic ! false as hell. 
 Near whom no innocence could dwell ; 
 A recreant knight — a Monk forsworn — 
 To rapine, lust, and murder bom ; 
 Abjured of heaven, thou hast thy doom, 
 And hell might well deny thee room ! 
 I thank the Power supreme, divine, 
 Thy work, accursed, is stayed by mine." 
 
 The spirit freed would homeward go. 
 The carcass fed the wolf and crow ; 
 The avenging knight recrossed the plain, 
 To join the weeping wedding train ; 
 A truer knight ne'er poised a lance. 
 Than Monte Rocco, of Peovence. 
 
 Whilst noble hearts for vengeance burn, 
 Now to the Abbey Church we turn. 
 Where all in expectation wait : 
 The Priest in grand array of state,--- 
 * See Note 13.
 
 22 
 
 With crozier, crncifix, and hood. 
 Near the exalted altar stood, 
 To give his benedictive sign, 
 And make the civil bond Divine. 
 
 Why shrinks the bride ? why turns she pale ? 
 Why clings she to the altar rail ? 
 With eyes fixed on the iron grate, 
 Where great Duke Humphrey lies in state, ^-^ 
 P')efore her glistering, glaring eyes, 
 A shadowy form is seen to rise ; 
 'Neath raiment, thin as woven dew, 
 A spectre form is beaming through, 
 With lifted hand and sunny smile, 
 Comes noiseless up the stony aisle. 
 Unchecked, through all, she sees it glide — 
 Now — now 'tis standing by her side ; 
 And oozing down from neck to chest, 
 A trickling crimson stains the vest ! 
 She nothing feels, and yet can see 
 The form droop slowly to its knee ; 
 Her hand it gently raised, and pressed 
 With tender fondness to its breast, 
 * See Note 14.
 
 23 
 
 And on her finger placed a ring. 
 Whilst faint seraphic voices sing 
 A strain that told of love and home, 
 The sweet refrain — "Beloved, come!'' 
 Enrapt, she listen'd to the theme, 
 That seemed like music in a dream. 
 Another form she now beheld, 
 A form well known in days of eld, 
 With areoled brow — one hand outspread, 
 Which wreath-like rays effulgent shed, 
 That seemed to rest on either head. 
 His left hand held a feathery palm,* 
 His face out-beamed with heavenly calm, 
 'Twas Holy Alban, from his throne 
 Come down, to bless them as his own, 
 And, blessing, faded from her sight 
 As clouds are melted into light. 
 In vain she strove to move or speak. 
 And aid from her betrothed would seek. 
 All dumb and motionless she stood, 
 Till glancing on the Holy Rood * 
 She turned — would speak to Ralph — but where 
 She thought he stood was empty air ! 
 * See Notes 15, 16, and 17.
 
 24 
 
 With clasped hands she stared with awe, 
 As she alone the vision saw. 
 
 The matrons start, with looks amazed. 
 Cry " Hartshorn ! ho ! the bride is crazed !" 
 As quick to help they all approach, 
 And on the altar steps encroach ; 
 When, with a calm beseeching eye, 
 An upturned look, a stifled sigh. 
 She raised her hand and whispered " Stay !" 
 Then bent as if she meant to pray. 
 A silence spread profound o'er all, 
 You might have heard a feather fall, 
 When, through the yielding air, so still, 
 Was heard a sweet faint voice, " I will !" 
 As died away the thrilling sound, 
 Fair Lilian fainted to the ground. 
 
 Aghast, spectators held their breath, 
 " Can this be feigned, or is it death ?" 
 They first recoiled, then forward crushed, 
 But in a moment all were hushed. 
 The mitred priest stooped down to see. 
 And raised the lady to his knee ;
 
 25 
 
 Her lily temples gently pressed, 
 
 And placed his palm upon her breast : — 
 
 " Alas, alas ! her days are o'er, 
 
 Fair Lilian sleeps to wake no more ! " 
 
 The joyous sounds that rode the gale, 
 Had now become a funeral wail ; 
 The cheeks that swelled with lusty cheers. 
 Were channelled now by streaming tears ; 
 As through the thinly peopled vale 
 Spread wide the strange and piteous tale ; 
 Too soon 'twas known. Sir Ralph de Rayne 
 Had all unshrived been foully slain. 
 The instant brave Sir Ralph had died, 
 That moment sank his lovely bride ; 
 Though lost, yet found— to them 'twas given. 
 To wing as one their flight to heaven. 
 
 The minstrel's song was left unsung. 
 The curses wild were left unfiung ; 
 The blossoms rare were left uustrewed, 
 Like statues there the maidens stood ; 
 One heavy, all-absorbing grief 
 Oppressed them, till they found relief
 
 26 
 
 In sighs, and sobs, and scalding tears, 
 Which o'er their cheeks in glistening spheres 
 Rolled rapidly, and as they rolled, 
 Of sympathising anguish told. 
 
 Soon, soon within the transept's shade 
 A bier was raised — the bodies laid ; 
 Bells ring with muffled murmurs low. 
 The incense rises, candles glow ; 
 From fretted roof and cloisters dim '■' 
 Resounds the solemn requiem. t 
 How beautiful ! — there, side by side, 
 His left arm pillowing his bride ; 
 Not clothed in robes of sable night. 
 But in their wedding raiment bright ! 
 Death may divide — death here has wed, 
 The bier become their bridal bed ! 
 No clouds by night shut out the stars, 
 No mist by day the sunshine mars ; 
 The cloudless sky, serene and deep, 
 Seems watching o'er them as they sleep. 
 
 With Sabbath dawning spread a cloud 
 Enshrouding all the sky ; a crowd 
 * Sec Note 18. t See " Requiem," p. 31.
 
 27 
 
 Of silent mourners came — each brow 
 With cypress wreath was circled now. 
 Within the chancel's solemn gloom 
 Was made a deep, a holy tomb ; 
 Where gently were together laid 
 The brave young knight and lovely maid. 
 The entrance bore this legend — ^rag 
 Jor llalpb be llagne nnb ITilian Olicn. 
 
 But ere their radiant forms were hid 
 From loving eyes by coffin lid, 
 The bride' s-maids came, and pleading sought 
 The veil and wreath their hands had 
 
 wrought, * 
 Should in the church suspended be, 
 That every coming age might see, 
 In those memorials fair, but frail, 
 The germs of this our touching tale. 
 
 And there the relics hang on high, 
 And Time's destroying touch defy ; 
 For year by year young virgins strew 
 The church with flowers, the wreath renew. 
 * See Note 10.
 
 28 
 
 So long as Alban's Church shall stand, 
 To tell its story to the land, 
 This legend ne'er shall pass away. 
 Of Ralph de Rayne and Lilian Grey.
 
 29 
 
 BRIDAL SONG. 
 
 BY MOXTE ROCCO. 
 
 Merrily, merrily, ring the bells—* 
 
 Ring the bells — ring the bells ! 
 O'er hill and plain, the sweet refrain, 
 In sounding jo}^ melodious swells. 
 Ring the bells, ring the bells; 
 Oh, merrily ring the bridal bells ! 
 
 They come, they come, the vale along, 
 
 Like morning beams the gentle bride ; 
 They come, they come, with lyre and song, 
 The bridegroom moves with manly pride. 
 Ring the bells, ring the bells; 
 Oh, merrily ring the bridal bells ! 
 
 Now — now the pealing organ sounds 
 In cadence low, or loud and clear. 
 Till every heart with rapture bounds : 
 Oh ! blessings are rained in music here. 
 
 The organ swells, the organ swells,* 
 How grandly now the organ swells ! 
 
 * See Notes 20 and 21.
 
 30 
 
 Again, oh ! merrily ring the bells, 
 
 Ring the bells, ring the bells ! 
 The rite is done, the two are one, 
 
 Each heart with joy unbounded swells. 
 Ring the bells, ring the bells ; 
 Oh, merrily ring the marriage bells !
 
 31 
 
 REQUIEM. 
 
 Adown, adowu, adown, in the deep dark tomb are 
 
 laid 
 Our brave young knight, our lady bright, the grave 
 
 their bridal bed. 
 The sun that rose so full of joy has set in misty 
 
 clouds ; 
 The bride who should a wife have been, the veil of 
 
 death enshrouds. 
 And by her side the bridegroom lies — all still his 
 
 manly voice. 
 There let them rest, for they are blest, and we may 
 well rejoice, 
 That brave young knight and lady bright should 
 
 peacefully be laid 
 Adown, adown ; adown, adown — shower blossoms 
 on their bed. 
 
 Above, above, above, beyond the blue serene, 
 Our brave young knight, our lady bright, are with 
 the angels seen ;
 
 32 
 
 Their robes of clay are cast away, and far beyond 
 
 the clouds 
 They wing their flight to realms of light which sor- 
 row never shrouds : 
 On ! side by side, beyond the tide, which life from 
 
 death divides, 
 As one they sing with seraphim where endless love 
 abides. 
 The spirits bright of maid and knight from 
 
 trouble are at rest. 
 Above, above ; above, above, in regions of the 
 blest.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [The Author thanks Mrs. Nicholson, M^dow of Dr. Nichol- 
 son, so long the beloved Eector of the Abbey Chiuch, for 
 many useful hints, and would express his obligations to 
 the friends who suiaplied other infonnation.] 
 
 Note 1. 
 
 The Society of Noviomagus was founded in 
 consequence of a small party of Fellows of the 
 Society of Antiquaries having agreed to make an 
 excavation at Holwood, near Keston, in Kent, on 
 the spot which was supposed by Stillingfleet and 
 other antiquaries to be the Roman station of Novio- 
 magus, mentioned in the Itinerary of Antoninus. 
 
 About a quarter of a mile from the Roman works 
 called " Cfesar's Camp" is a tumulus, known even 
 at the present day as the " War bank," and here the 
 party commenced operations. They discovered the 
 foundations of a temple and several ancient stone 
 coffins, Roman remains, &c. These were described 
 in a paper read before the Society of Antiquaries on 
 the 27th November, 1828, by Mr. Alfred J. Kempe,
 
 34 
 
 followed by another paper by T. Crofton Croker, 
 Mr. Balmauuo and Mr. W. H. Brooke were also 
 present. 
 
 After a meeting of the Society of Antiquaries on 
 the 11th December, 1828, a small party interested 
 in the matter adjom-ned to Cork Street, Burlington 
 Gardens, and a society, "to be called the Society 
 of Noviomagus," was then and there instituted. 
 The following week, the same party being present, 
 these were elected : — 
 
 T. Crofton Croker 
 A. J. Kempe . . 
 Robert Lemon 
 H. Brandreth 
 W. H. Brooke . 
 Robert Balmanno 
 John Rouse . . 
 
 President. 
 
 Vice-President. 
 
 Treasurer. 
 
 Poet Laureate. 
 
 Principal Artist in Ordinary. 
 
 Secretary, j)ro. tern. 
 
 Usher of the Black Rod. 
 
 Subsequently the following gentlemen were 
 elected : — 
 
 W. Jordan 
 
 W. H. Rossor .... 
 J. Bowyer Nicholls . . 
 Rev. J. Lindsay . . . 
 Sir William Bctham 
 J. R. Planche .... 
 Thomas Saunders . . 
 W. J. Thorns, F.S.A. . 
 rf William Wansey, F.S.A. 
 F. W. Fairholt . . . 
 
 Father Confessor. 
 
 Secretarj'. 
 
 Tj'pographer. 
 
 Chamberlain. 
 
 Genealogist. 
 
 Dramatist. 
 
 Attoraej'-General. 
 
 Notes and Queries. 
 
 The Fislunonger. 
 
 The Draughtsman. 
 
 They met every Thursday evening, after leaving
 
 Somerset House, at some convenient place in the 
 neighbourhood, to partake of a supper, which, in 
 those primitive days, consisted of Welsh rarebits, 
 potatoes and butter, Glenlivat whisky, lemons, 
 and sugar ; and, at the close of the session, a trip 
 was arranged to Keston Cross and other places of 
 interest. 
 
 The present members are — 
 
 The Lord High President S. C. Hall, F.S.A. 
 
 The Baronet Su- F. G. Moon, Bart, F.S.A. 
 
 The Architect .... George Godwin, F.S.A. 
 
 The Physician .... Dr. Stevenson, F.S.A. 
 
 The American Minister . Henry Stevens, F.S.A. 
 
 The Sculptor .... Josejah Durham, F.S.A. 
 
 The ex-Sheriff .... Charles Hill, F.S.A. 
 
 The Librarian .... Joshua W.Butterwc/rih,F.S. A. 
 
 The Photographer . . . Dr. Hugh Diamond, J?'.*, a. 
 
 The Friar Edwin H. Lawrence, F.S.A. 
 
 The Absentee .... Charles Ratcliffe, F.S.A. 
 
 The Associate .... Wni. Chaffers, (late) F.S.A. 
 
 Treasurer, Laureate, and ) -p • t> t. t-. o . 
 
 . , . ' , ' > Francis Bennoch, F.S.A. 
 Actmg Secretary . . ; 
 
 Thirteen, the original number of members en- 
 rolled, continues a rule of the brotherhood. 
 
 Note 2. 
 
 " Martyk Alban's town; " also " Alban's church." 
 (Pages 7 and 17.) 
 
 In respect of situation there are few abbeys in 
 England superior to that of St. Albans, standing
 
 3G 
 
 as it does, so grandly on the summit of a hill, sur- 
 rounded by a large extent of richly varied and 
 interesting landscape. On the other side of the 
 Ver are the gentle slopes of ancient Yerulam, and 
 beyond and around are lovely heights covered with 
 noble M^oods, producing effects of beauty and rich- 
 ness of effect probably unequalled. An old rhyme 
 
 says — 
 
 " When Verulam stood, 
 St. Albans was a wood ; 
 Now Verulam 's down, 
 St. Albans is a town." 
 
 Note 3. 
 
 St. Albans and Yeeulam, 
 
 The finest view of St. Albans is obtained from 
 the south side, on the raised ground, where, still in 
 the ruins of the massy walls, may be traced the 
 power of the Eomans, the once mighty conquerors 
 of the world, and the extent of the ancient and 
 great city of Yerulam, from which St. Alban went 
 forth to the grassy slopes of the opposite hill, 
 resolved and willing to die as the first British 
 martyr to the faith in Christ. From this eminence, 
 the site of ancient Yerulam, the site is one of pic- 
 turesque beauty. Where St. Alban shed his blood, 
 rises in majestic grandeur the venerable Abbey 
 Church, surrounded, or nearly so, by the modem
 
 37 
 
 town of St. Albans. The little river Ver, from 
 which the ancient city took its name, meanders 
 gracefully through the valley, until it joins the 
 Colne, some four miles to the south-east. In the 
 summer time, the fertile fields of waving corn, the 
 green meadows, and the sylvan scenery, complete 
 a picture which the mind cannot contemplate with- 
 out pleasurable emotion. — Mason. 
 
 The Holy Alban was slain because he had shel- 
 tered, and allowed to escape. Amphibolous, a deacon 
 of the Christian Church, and brought upon himself 
 the death from which he had rescued his friend. 
 Many churches were built, and dedicated to the 
 name of the proto-martyr, notably St. Alban's, Wood 
 Street, which was built by Oifa, King of the Mer- 
 cians, and used as his chapel, being contiguous to 
 his palace in London. 
 
 Note 4. 
 
 Lilian Gkey. (Page 8.) 
 
 Edmond, Earl of Kent, was originally Lord Grey 
 of Euthyn, and created Earl by Edward IV. He 
 had a son, Sir Anthony Grey, whose mother was 
 daughter of Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. 
 It has been stated that he was killed at the battle 
 of St. Albans ; this, however, is doubted : some
 
 38 
 
 confusion having arisen between Grey of Rutbyn 
 and Sir John Grey of Groby, killed in the battle, 
 fighting on the side of Lancaster ; and his widow, 
 Elizabeth Woodville, became the Queen of Edward 
 lY. — 7)/". Nicholson. 
 
 The precise relationship of Lilian Grey to these 
 noble houses it is difficult now to determine. 
 
 mte 5. 
 
 GoKHAMBURY AND St. Michael, (Page 8.) 
 
 On the floor is the brass effigy of Rauff (Ralph) 
 Rowlott, merchant of the Staple at Calais, an 
 ancient company of foreign merchants, incorporated 
 l)y Edward III. He was the lineal ancestor of 
 Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. The estates of 
 Gorhambury and Sandridge, with others, had been 
 granted to him by Henry VIII. at the dissolution 
 of the monastery. His son dying, his two daugh- 
 ters became co-heiresses. Mary or Margery, the 
 eldest, inherited Gorhambury, and married John 
 Maynard, Esq., of Easting, in the county of Essex, 
 who sold the whole of his estate in the neighbour- 
 hood of St. Albans to Sir Nicholas Bacon, Knight, 
 afterwards Lord Keeper of the Great Seal in the 
 reign of Queen Elizabeth. Bacon was buried in 
 St. Michael's Church.
 
 39 
 
 The ancient Watling Street seems to have passed 
 a little to the southward of St, Michael's Church, 
 and led past Gorhambury, the residence of the 
 Earl of Verulam, where a portion of the ruins of 
 the mansion of Eobert de Gorham, and where Lord 
 Bacon resided, may still be seen. — Dr. Nicholsoyi. 
 
 Note 6. 
 
 " From Sopwell's cloisters." (Page 8.) 
 
 Matthew Paris relates that two women having 
 entered on a recluse life in a hut which they had 
 
 ft 
 
 constructed near the river, the abbot built a house 
 for their better accommodation, placing therein 
 thirteen sisters under the rule of St. Benedict. As 
 the first two women used to dip their dry bread 
 in the water of a neighbouring spring, the place 
 was called Sopwell. 
 
 Books were printed at St. Albans as early as the 
 year 1480. The first treatise on hunting which 
 ever issued from the press was the " Boke of Saint 
 Alban," written by Dame Juliana Barns (otherwise 
 Berners), the Prioress of Sopwell, and printed in 
 the monastery, 1486, a copy of which is in the col- 
 lection of Earl Spencer, and another in the Univer- 
 sity Library, Cambridge. It is divided into three
 
 40 
 
 sections : one on hunting, one on fisliing, and one 
 on coat armour — a curious study for a nun. — Dr. 
 Nicholson's History. 
 
 Note 7. 
 
 " Should seek the Abbey Church." (Page 9.) 
 
 In 1077, Paul, of the Abbey of Caen, in Nor- 
 mandy, was appointed to preside over St. Albans, 
 and within eleven years constructed the greater 
 part of the Abbey Church. He was powerfully 
 assisted by his kinsman Lanfranc, Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, who was succeeded by Anselm, Abbot 
 of Bee. The new church was magnificently dedi- 
 cated on the 5th of the Kalends of January, 1115, 
 by Geoffrey, Archbishop of Rouen, assisted by 
 Robert, Bishop of Lincoln, Roger of Sarum, Ralph 
 of Durham, and Richard of London, and many 
 more abbots, in the presence of King Henry I., 
 Matilda his Queen, and many earls, barons, nobles 
 — illustrious personages of whom the number is 
 unknown because of the multitude, on which day 
 all remained feasting and rejoicing in the Court of 
 St. Alban, the blessed Protomartyr of the English. 
 — Buckler's Histori/, p. 5, &c.
 
 41 
 
 Note 8. 
 
 " Miller's lake-like daii." (Page 13.) 
 
 " Many buildings in the occupation of the Abbey 
 stood in its immediate vicinity : the Grange and the 
 Mill were ranged towards the west and extended 
 over a considerable surface, and large tracts of land, 
 including the orchards, pasturage, and fish-pools 
 stretched along the southern side, supplying by 
 their various stores the constant demands of hospi- 
 tality, contributing in no small degree to the cha- 
 racter and splendour of the domain.'" — Buckler's 
 Histonj, p. 166. 
 
 Note 9. 
 " Old heathen Veeulam, whose stones." (Page 13.) 
 
 Matthew Paris expressly records the fact that 
 the ruins of Verulam were resorted to for supplying 
 materials for the re-edification of the church. The 
 evidence seems irresistible that the material was 
 not made for the Church of St. Albans, but that 
 the building was to some extent designed to 
 suit the materials. The bricks and tiles were 
 doubtless formed eight centuries before the time 
 when they were used to construct a Christian 
 church, and may have been taken from the theatre
 
 42 
 
 or tlie temple of the gods. From the foundation 
 to the uppermost courses of the walls, even to the 
 parapet of the tower, is of tile construction. Veru- 
 1am, with the addition of some portions of the old 
 Saxon church, which was wholly destroyed, served 
 to construct the new building of the Abbey Church. 
 The bricks were very large, measuring 16xl2x 
 1-| ; and one discovered on the site of Verulam, 
 and preserved at Oaklands, weighs 21 lbs. — Con- 
 densed from Buckler's History, p. 22, &c. 
 
 Note 10. 
 
 " The stately column." (Page 15.) 
 
 The most remarkable instance of attempting to 
 harmonise the difierent periods of architecture 
 occurs in the eighth pillar from the west end on 
 the north side of the nave. The broad members 
 in the front, and in one reveal, have been formed 
 with segments of circles, and the intermediate 
 angles sloped off — a rude resemblance of the clus- 
 tered columns opposite, and at the west end — but 
 the attempt was not sufficiently encouraging to be 
 persisted in, and the mutilated column remains, as 
 it was left, unfinished by the workmen. — Buckler's 
 History, p. 144.
 
 43 
 
 Note 11. 
 
 " The stately column's clustered stone." 
 (Page 15.) 
 
 " Here we observe the Norman or Eomanesque 
 style of the twelfth century, the Early English or 
 first Gothic style of the thirteenth century, and the 
 Decorated style of the fourteenth century. The 
 place on the north series of arches, where the 
 Korman ends and the Gothic begins, deserves 
 notice. The clustered Early English pillars of the 
 sixth arch of the nave spring out of the massive 
 Norman pier." — Mason. 
 
 Note 12. 
 
 " And pierced the neck of Ralph de R^yne." 
 (Page 19.) 
 
 The first battle of St. Albans was fought on the 
 23rd May, 1455, between Henry VI. and Richard, 
 Duke of York. A strong party, led by the Earl of 
 Warwick, burst into the town with great shouting, 
 and overcame the royal army, which lost heart and 
 fled. The king, finding himself alone, and deserted, 
 07id wounded in the neck by an arrow, took refuge in 
 a small cottage occupied by a baker, where he was
 
 44 
 
 found by the Duke of York, who with all courtesy 
 conducted the crest-fallen monarch, first to the 
 Abbey, and next day to London. — Mason. 
 
 Note 13. 
 " The Priest in grand array of state." (Page 21.) 
 
 In the British Museum there is a picture headed 
 " The Parliament holden at Westminster the fourth 
 of Feb., the third yeare of our Sovereigne Lord King 
 Henry the 8th, a.d. 1572," during the rule of 
 Abbot Ramayge, in which the figure and dress of 
 each ecclesiastic dignitary are depicted : abbots of 
 least note lead the procession two and two first, 
 and then those of higher dignity — the Abbot of 
 Tewkesbury and the Prior of Coventry leading, and 
 the Abbots of St. Albans and Westminster are the 
 last pair. 
 
 All the abbots, with two exceptions, have the 
 same dress — a plain cassock and cap with an ample 
 robe of purple, having folds behind as a hood. 
 None of the abbots wear mitres. The bishops 
 wear the same simple caps as the abbots, and only 
 the archbishops, who close the procession, wear the 
 mitre. — Xicholsun. 
 
 Robert de Gorham was the first abbot on whom
 
 the mitre was conferred, and the Abbots of St. 
 Albans were authorised by the Pope to take prece- 
 dence of all others in England. — Mason s Guide. 
 
 yote 14. 
 
 " Where great Duke Humphrey lies in state." 
 
 (Page 22.) 
 
 Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, who died at 
 Bury, Feb. 28th, 1447, was buried in the Church of 
 St. Albans, where a superb monument was erected 
 to his memory. He was fourth and youngest son 
 of Henry IV., and Protector of the Kingdom during 
 the minority of his nephew, Henry VI. 
 
 The iron grating is generally considered to be of 
 a date prior to the erection of the monument, and 
 was intended to give to pilgrims and other visitors 
 in the aisle a view of the shrine in the centre of the 
 Feretory, or Saint's Chapel. 
 
 Duke Humphrey founded the Divinity School at 
 Oxford, and commenced the collection of books 
 which formed the nucleus of the Bodleian Library ; 
 though all, save two, of the books presented by 
 him were destroyed by the Visitors in the time of 
 Edward VI. 
 
 The story of his death — murder rather — at Bury
 
 46 
 
 St. Edmunds, and the details of the removal of his 
 body to St. Albans, were published by the Camden 
 Society, in 1856. 
 
 Note 15. 
 "His LEFT HAND HELD A FEATHERY PALM." 
 
 (Page 23.) 
 
 On the 5th December, 1539, the king's com- 
 missioners came to St. Albans, when the fortieth 
 abbot, Richard Boreman, alim De Stevenache, 
 signed a creed of surrender, and delivered up the 
 seal of the monastery, which is now in the British 
 Museum. It is made of ivory, and represents St. 
 Alban holding in his hand a branch of the palm- 
 tree. — Mason. 
 
 Note 16. 
 
 Sheine. (Page 23.) 
 
 " Abbot Geoffrey, in the fifth year of his prelacy, 
 commenced a glorious shrine of marvellous work- 
 manship for the Blessed Alban, our patron 
 
 And he made it of hammered work raised and 
 brought out, and he filled in the hollows with 
 cement, and completed the elegance of the whole 
 body of the shrine by a steeply raised ridge, and 
 this still further beautified the whole.
 
 47 
 
 " And when all the parts of the shrine were thus 
 handsomely executed, he had the whole richly gilt, 
 so that they rather appeared to be of gold than 
 silver. From the ancient treasury of the church 
 jewels were brought forth for its decoration — one 
 sardonyx being of such size that it could scarcely 
 be held in one hand, and none other was like unto 
 it. This unrivalled stone was given to the church 
 by King Etheldred, the father of Edward, the 
 most pious king of England. All being pi'epared, 
 the remains of the Holy Alban were duly translated 
 thereunto on the anniversary of the festival of 
 St. Peter." — Condensed from Bucklers History, 
 p. 48, &c. 
 
 Note 17. 
 " Till glancing on the Holy Rood." (Page 23.) 
 
 " In the time of Abbot William of Trumpington, 
 Master Walter de Colchester, then Sacrist, an in- 
 comparable painter and sculptor, erected a loft or 
 j)ul2ntum in the middle of the church, with its great 
 Rood and Mary and John, and other carvings and 
 handsome decorations, at the cost of the Sacristy, 
 but by the diligence of his own labour. 
 
 " The altar was solemnly dedicated by John, 
 Bishop of Ardfert, in honour of the Holy Cross, and
 
 48 
 
 the same bishop consecrated the great Rood, which, 
 with its images, was pLaced over this altar. From 
 which it is evident that an altar in honour of the 
 Holy Cross, enclosed by an iron screen, stood at 
 the entrance to the Sanctuary." — Buckler's History, 
 p. 70. 
 
 Note 18. 
 
 " From fretted roof and cloisters dim." 
 (Page 20.) 
 
 Abbot Robert, in the twelfth century, erected 
 one cloister along the east side. Abbot Trumping- 
 ton constructed several others, chiefly of oak timber, 
 some of which remain. Abbot Roger, who so 
 greatly adorned the interior of the church, built a 
 cloister against the south wall of the nave, in a 
 superb style of architecture. The unrivalled ele- 
 gance of the design baffles any attempt at descrip- 
 tion, and the hand which performed the work with 
 such extraordinary delicacy and beauty had at- 
 tained its utmost skill. But nothing now remains 
 of this work than that which could not easily be 
 severed from the wall of the church. — Condensed 
 from Buckler's History, p. 258.
 
 49 
 
 Note 19. 
 
 " The veil and weeath," etc. (Page 27.) 
 
 In the south aisle of the nave hangs the frame - 
 vi^ork of a chaplet, and the tradition has been 
 handed down, that it formed a part of a marriage 
 garland of a bride, who died on her wedding day, 
 and was said to have been buried near the spot. — 
 
 (If considerable liberty has been taken with 
 dates, the unities of the poem may plead an 
 excuse ; and I learn, with pleasure, that a niece 
 of Dr. Nicholson has supplied the new wreaths 
 for many years past). 
 
 Note 20. 
 
 " Ring the bells." (Page 29.) 
 
 " The Abbot Paul furnished the tower with bells, 
 and a certain noble named Litholf, who resided in 
 a woodland part of the neighbourhood, added one 
 still larger and more laudable than the rest. Having 
 a good stock of sheep and goats, he sold many of 
 them and bought a bell, of which, as he heard the 
 new sound when suspended in the tower, he said 
 jocosely, ' Hark ! how sweetly my goats and my 
 sheep bleat.' His wife procured another bell for 
 
 E
 
 50 
 
 the same place, and the two together produced the 
 most sweet harmony, which, when the lady heard, 
 she said : ' I do not think this union is wanting of 
 the Divine favour, which united me to my husband 
 in lawful matrimony and the bond of mutual affec- 
 tion.' " — Buckler's History. 
 
 Note 21. 
 "The Organ swells." (Page 29.) 
 
 John of Wheathampstead was re-elected Abbot in 
 1451, and about this time gave to his church a pair 
 of organs, on which and their erection he spent 
 fifty pounds. 
 
 No organ in any monastery in England was com- 
 parable to one of these for size, and tone, and 
 workmanship. — Dr. Nicholson, 
 
 THE END. 
 
 FEINTED BY VIBTUE AND CO. CITT BOAD, LONDOK.
 
 l^t^ 9Sooks antr Ndu dBHitions. 
 
 The Library Edition of the Works of 
 
 Alfred Tennyson, D.C.L., Poet-Laureate. Vols. I., 
 II., III., and IV. Post 8vo, los. 6d. each. 
 
 *^* This Edition will be completed in Five Volumes, to be issued at 
 intervals of one month. 
 
 Notes on England. 
 
 By H. Taine, D.C.L., Oxon, &c. Translated by W. F. 
 Rae, with an Introduction by the Translator. Re- 
 printed, with Additions, from the " Daily News." 
 Post 8vo, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Character Sketches. 
 
 By Norman Macleod, D.D. With Illustrations. Post 
 8vo, IDS. 6d. 
 
 Town Geology. 
 
 By the Rev. Charles Kingsley. Crown 8vo, 5s. 
 
 Tansies. 
 
 " for Thoughts." By Adeline T. Whitney. 
 
 Square 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 The Days of Jezebel. 
 
 An Historical Drama. By Peter Bayne, M.A. Crown 
 8vo, 6s. 
 
 Tennyson's Songs: 
 
 Being a Collection of Songs and Ballads from the Pub- 
 lished Works of Alfred Tennyson, D.C.L., Poet- 
 Laureate. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 5s. 
 
 Saint Abe and his Seven Wives. 
 
 A Tale of Salt Lake City. Crown 8vo, 5s. 
 
 STRAHAN & CO., 56, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON.
 
 NctD 53oo!is anil tNTcto v!Bi3ttions. 
 
 The Secret History of the International 
 
 By Onslow Yorke. Crown 8vo, 2s. 
 
 Music and Morals. 
 
 By the Rev. H. R. Haweis. Post 8vo, I2s. 
 
 Twilight Hours. 
 
 A Legacy of Verse. By Sail^h Williams (Sadie) 
 Third and Enlarged Edition. Crown 8vo, 5s. 
 
 The Drama of Kings. 
 
 By Robert Buchaxan. Post 8vo, 12s. 
 
 Lord Bantam. 
 
 By the Author of " Ginx's Baby." Crown 8vo, 5s. 
 
 Passages from the French and Italian 
 
 Note-Books of Nathaniel Hawthorne. 2 vols., post 
 8vo, 24s. 
 
 Flowers and Gardens. 
 
 • Notes on Plant Beauty. By Forbes Watson, M.R.C.S. 
 Crown Svo, 5s. 
 
 Peasant Life in the North. 
 
 Second Series. Post Svo, 9s. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 A Tragedy by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Trans- 
 lated in the Original Metres by Bayard T.wlor. 
 2 vols., post 8vo, 28s. 
 
 STRAHAN & CO., 5O, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 lOm-ll, '50(2555)470 
 
 ^ ^' ^ THE LIBRARY 
 HHIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIJI 
 ;^. LOS ANGELKW
 
 PR 
 
 h099 
 
 uc 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 380 321