HINCHINBROOK—the seat and residence of John William Montagu, seventh Earl of Sandwich—is situated within “a short mile” of the ancient town of Huntingdon. Few mansions in England possess a deeper interest, or have weightier associations connected with them; for, although not actually born within these walls, here the Protector, Oliver Cromwell, passed many of his boyish days: here occurred not a few of the incidents which formed his character; and here, probably, originated that peculiar temperament which afterwards gave birth to mighty issues.

The House stands upon the site of a very ancient Priory of Benedictine Nuns, said to have been founded by the Conqueror; the “holy ladies” having been removed thither from Eltesly, in Cambridgeshire, where, according to Leland, “was sumtyme a Nunnery, where Pandonia, the Scottish virgine, was buried, and where there is a Well of her name yn the south side of the quire.” The site of this Priory was granted—29 Henry VIII.,—to Sir Richard Williams, the lineal representative of the Welsh Lords of Cardigan and Powis, whose father having married the sister of the famous Earl of Essex, assumed the name of Cromwell. Sir Richard rose rapidly into favour with his uncle’s imperious master, the Eighth Henry, obtained the lucrative appointment of one of the Visitors of Religious Houses, and on the Dissolution had a lion’s share of rich Abbey lands; becoming, in consequence, one of the wealthiest commoners of England. In 1546, he was succeeded by his son, Sir Henry, called, from the liberality of his largesses, “the golden knight.” By him the mansion at Hinchinbrook was built, partly out of the materials of the adjacent nunnery, the memory of which is still preserved by the names, “Nun’s Bridge,” and “Nun’s Meadow,” continued by tradition to places on the west side of the park. In 1564, the mansion had the honour of receiving Queen Elizabeth as a guest. Sir Henry left a large family. Sir Oliver inherited Hinchinbrook, and Robert, the second son, was the father of the Protector. The uncle was also the godfather of Oliver Cromwell; and in this house many of his boyish days were passed.

From causes insufficiently explained, the revenue of Sir Oliver dwindled; and, being under the necessity of alienating part of his hereditary estates, he sold Hinchinbrook to Sir Sidney Montagu, of Barnwell, knight—the ancestor of the present Earl of Sandwich—in whose family it has since remained. Thus, the heir apparent, afterwards the Protector, instead of inheriting a large patrimony, had but a poor prospect; his father, to augment his income, became a brewer, dwelling in a comparatively “meane house within the towne;”[33] and it is matter for curious speculation how far the visits of James I. to Sir Oliver impaired the fortunes of the house, and the consequent impoverishment may have biassed the character of his nephew; who, possibly, if he had been heir to the enormous estates acquired by his grandfather, might have been contented with his destiny, and have never drawn a sword which continued out of the scabbard until a monarch had perished on a scaffold.[34] In Huntingdon, Oliver Cromwell was born, on the 25th April, 1599, “by birth,”—as he described himself in Parliament fifty-five years afterwards,—“a gentleman, to live neither at any considerable height nor yet in obscurity;” and in the church which adjoined his father’s house, the church of St. John, long ago removed, he was christened, four days afterwards, as appears by the entry (of which we made a fac-simile copy) in the books, now preserved in the church of All-Saints.

Above this entry some loyalist had written, “England’s plague for five years,” which the pen of some Parliamentarian had afterwards struck through. The hand-writing of this pithy sentence seems, to judge from the characters and the ink, nearly as old as the registry itself.

Fortunately there is one object associated with the early life of “Oliver, Lord Protector,” which the rude hand of a modern Vandal has not been able to desecrate or even touch. The Grammar School remains uninjured even by time; it stands

in the centre of the Town, opposite to All-Saints Church;[35] and in its interior as well as exterior seems to have undergone very little change since Oliver’s master, Dr. Beard, flogged him there—as tradition saith he did—for dreaming that “he saw a gigantic figure come to his bedside, and tell him he should be greater than a King;” and where, not long afterwards—it is said, on the same authority—while acting the part of “Tactus” in the play of “Lingua,” it was his business to “stumble at a crown and regalia,” and to repeat the lines commencing—

The ancient and venerable school-room, retaining, as it does, so much of its primitive character, is an object of intense interest; the thick walls, with their latticed windows, seem utterly unchanged; the very desks, heavy with ink blotches, and the deeply-carved names of hundreds of heedless urchins, may have been—possibly are—the very desks at which young Oliver sate, when “now a hard student for a week or two, and then a truant or otioso for twice as many months.”

In this town, which he afterwards represented in Parliament, he passed not only his boyhood, but the years of his prime; selling, in 1631, the small remnant of his property there, and removing to St. Ives, whence, on the death of his maternal uncle, Sir Thomas Steward, he removed, in 1636, to the Isle of Ely. It was at Huntingdon, however, he made his first essays in the cause of Freedom. Here, in 1639, he met the King’s Commissioners, who were working injustice towards those who had reclaimed the Fens; here he argued with and confuted them; boldly confronting the Crown-partisans, and thwarting the measures of the Court; so that thenceforward, until he achieved a higher title, he obtained the popular appellation of “Lord of the Fens.”

During his greatness, his native town seems to have seen very little of him; his fate was perhaps that of prophets generally, who “have no honour in their own country.” It is on record, however, that one day marching through it, he met in the main street a reverend divine, by whom his life had been saved from drowning when a boy. On reminding the clergyman of the fact, “the general” received for answer, “Yes, I well remember it, and wish I had put you in, rather than see you thus in arms against your King.”[36]

Hinchinbrook House is scarcely less intimately connected with Oliver’s early history, than is Huntingdon town; independently, therefore, of its intrinsic value, its associations

are of surpassing interest; and it is surrounded by very valuable remains of antiquity—the ancient borough of Godmanchester[37] being especially rich in relics of very olden times. The reader will perhaps consider we have done well in procuring a copy of one of them—the old Court-House—the speedy removal of which is one of the “threats” of the age. Causes tried “in open court” is a phrase familiar to all; but in ancient times, the courts were literally “open”—not to suitors alone, but to wind and weather. That at Godmanchester continued “open” until the passing of the Reform Bill. It stands in the middle of the highway where two roads meet, and is a venerable building of timber and plaster, having upon its front the date 1679; probably that of its latest alteration or reparation—for some portions of the building are certainly much older. It is inclosed in a small court-yard by a mud wall; and remained perfectly “open” up to the memorable year 1832, when for the comfort and convenience of a

new race of Aldermen, unaccustomed to privations, it was bricked and plastered in. Here then, until within the last few years, was justice ministered openly as in the most ancient times, when a broad tree not unfrequently formed the sole shelter for judge and people. Down to a comparatively late period the law courts were thus held both in Guildhall and Westminster-hall, in London. In a much earlier age Parliament was similarly seated; Richard II. erected for the Members a temporary wooden house, while rebuilding Westminster-hall; and this house was open on all sides to the weather and to all men; the members being protected by 4,000 Archers placed around them by the King—“to secure freedom of debate,” as Pennant slily remarks. Such open meeting-houses were by no means uncommon in the olden time; the Godmanchester Court-house is interesting as the last remaining relic of the custom. Another valuable relic of antiquity we found in the Church of Godmanchester; chained to the pulpit was a poor-box formed of oak strongly banded with iron. We thought it desirable to preserve a copy of it, which we have given above.

Hinchinbrook, as we have stated, passed from the family of Cromwell to that of Montagu; having been purchased by Sir Sydney Montagu, in 1627. It is the present

seat and residence of his lineal descendant, John William, the seventh Earl of Sandwich—a family ennobled by talent and bravery, but also by remote and honourable descent. Although the venerable structure has undergone sundry changes, chiefly the consequence of a fire which consumed a considerable portion of it in 1828, it retains much of its original character. The court-yard, reached through a winding avenue of trees, is entered through a singularly picturesque gate-way, which forms the subject of the appended engraving. It is built of stone, embellished and carved with more than ordinary skill. The gates are of thick oak; there are two—one to open and give admission to carriages, the other to foot passengers, who are protected by a solid balustrade, also of oak.[38]

The exterior, as we have intimated, has been considerably impaired by fire; and sufficient care does not appear to have been taken with its subsequent restoration. Notwithstanding, it continues to “display in its parts the architectural taste of the earliest as well as of the latest period of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, possessing the irregularity of design peculiar to the era.” The bay-windows are profusely embellished with shields of the family of Cromwell, the arms of Queen Elizabeth, and “a variety of heraldic cognizances denoting the honours of the Tudor line,—the falcon, the portcullis, a ton with a branch, and roses of different forms, which are upon the upper cornice of each window.” The interior has been almost entirely modernized; but the “furnishing” is in good taste, and is made to harmonize as nearly as possible with the era in which the fame of the venerable structure was achieved. The walls are covered with family portraits—principally the “living likenesses” of Lely. The library is of oak—richly and elaborately carved by the hand of some great old master.