PENSHURST—the “Home” of the Sidneys—the stately Sidneys: stately in their character, in their careers, in their patriotism, in their heroism, in their rectitude, and in their verse—is surely one of the best of the Stately Homes of England to be included in our series. The very name of Penshurst seems to call up associations of no ordinary character connected with that heroic race, and with many of the most stirring incidents of British history. With Penshurst every great name memorable in the Augustan age of England is linked for ever; while its venerable aspect, the solemnity of the surrounding shades, the primitive character of its vicinity, together with its isolated position—away from the haunts of busy men—are in harmony with the memories it awakens.

Here lived the earliest and bravest of the Anglo-Norman knights. Here dwelt the ill-fated Bohuns—the three unhappy Dukes of Buckingham, who perished in succession, one in the field and two on the scaffold. And here flourished the Sidneys! Here, during his few brief years of absence from turmoil in the turbulent countries of Ireland and Wales, resided the elder Sidney, Sir Henry, who, although his fame has been eclipsed by the more dazzling reputation of his gallant son, was in all respects good as well as great—a good soldier, a good subject, a good master, and a good counsellor and actor under circumstances peculiarly perilous. This is the birthplace of “the darling of his time,” the “chiefest jewel of a crown,” the “diamond of the court of Queen Elizabeth.” Here, too, was born—and here was interred the mutilated body of—the “later Sidney:” he who had “set up Marcus Brutus for his pattern,” and perished on the scaffold—a martyr for the “good old cause,” one of the many victims of the meanest and most worthless of his race. With the memories of these three marvellous men—the Sidneys, Henry, Philip, and Algernon—are closely blended those of the worthies of the two most remarkable eras in English history. Who can speak of Penshurst without thinking of Spenser,

(“For Sidney heard him sing, and knew his voice,”)

of Shakspere, of Ben Jonson—the laureate of the place—of Raleigh, the “friend and frequent guest” of Broke, whose proudest boast is recorded on his tomb, that he was “the servant of Queen Elizabeth, the counsellor of King James, and THE FRIEND of Sir Philip Sidney”—of the many other immortal men who made the reign of Elizabeth the glory of all time? Reverting to a period less remote, who can think of Penshurst without speaking of the high spirits of a troubled age—

“The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,
Young Vane, and others, who called Milton—friend.”

Although its glory is of the past, and nearly two centuries have intervened between the latest record of its greatness and its present state; although it has been silent all that time—a solemn silence, broken only by the false love-note of an unworthy minstrel, for the names of “Waller” and “Sacharissa” discredit rather than glorify its grey walls—who does not turn to Penshurst as to a refreshing fountain by the wayside of wearying history?

The history of the descent of Penshurst to the Sidneys may be summed up in few words—that of the Sidneys themselves will require greater space. It was “the ancient seat of the Pencestres, or Penchesters, who settled here in Norman times,[31] and one of whom was Sir Stephen, that famous Lord Warden of the Five Ports, and Constable of Dover Castle, who flourished in the reigns of Henry III. and Edward I., and who was a very learned man, and ordered all the muniments, grants, &c., relating to Dover Castle to be written in a fair book, which he called Castelli Feodarium, and out of which Darell composed the history of that fortress.” Dying without male issue, his estates were divided between his two daughters and co-heiresses, Joan, wife of Henry Cobham, and Alice, wife of John de Columbers, to the latter of whom fell Penshurst, &c., which was soon afterwards conveyed to Sir John de Poultney, who (15th Edward II.) had license to embattle his mansion houses at Penshurst and elsewhere. He was four times Lord Mayor of London, and, dying, his widow “married Lovaines, and conveyed these estates into that family with consent of her first husband’s immediate heirs;” and they afterwards passed, by an heiress, to Sir Philip St. Clere, whose son sold them to the Regent Duke of Bedford. On his decease in Paris in the reign of Henry VI., Penshurst and other manors passed to his next brother, Humphrey, the “good Duke of Gloucester,” after whose sad death, in 1447, they reverted to the crown, and were, in that same year, granted to the Staffords. On the attainder of Edward, Duke of Buckingham, Penshurst reverted to the Crown.

That brilliant nobleman—whose principal crimes were his wealth, his open, manly, and generous nature, and his wise criticisms of the ruinous expenditure on the “field of the cloth of gold”—was treacherously invited to court by the king, and, suspecting no mischief, he obeyed the summons, and set out on his journey from Thornbury, not observing for some time that he was closely followed by three knights of the king’s body-guard, “and a secret power of servants-at-arms.” His suspicions were first awakened at Windsor, where he lodged for the night, “the same three knights lying close by,” and where he was treated with marked disrespect by the king’s gentleman harbinger. From Windsor, Buckingham rode on to Westminster, and then took his barge to row down to Greenwich, where the court then was, calling, however, on his way, at York House, to see Cardinal Wolsey, who was denied to him. “Well, yet will I drink of my lord cardinal’s wine as I pass,” said the duke: “and then a gentleman of my lord cardinal’s brought the duke with much reverence into the cellar, where the duke drank; but when he saw and perceived no cheer to him was made, he changed colour, and departed.” Passing forward down the Thames, as he neared the City, his barge was hailed and boarded by Sir Henry Marney, captain of the body-guard, who, in the king’s name, attached him as a traitor. He was at once carried on shore and taken through Thames Street to the Tower, “to the great astonishment and regret of the people, to whom he was justly endeared.” This was on the 16th of April, 1521. On the 13th of May he was put on his mock trial and was condemned. “I shall never sue the king for life,” said he; and he kept his word. On the 17th he was executed, without having once supplicated his brutal king to spare the life he was unjustly taking away. “He was as undaunted in sight of the block as he had been before his judges; and he died as brave men die—firmly and meekly, and without bravado.” His death was the grief of the people. “God have mercy on his soul, for he was a most wise and noble prince, and the mirrour of all courtesie”—that was written of him at the time.

By this detestable piece of royal treachery Henry became possessed of the estates of the duke, and held them in his own hands for several years, enlarging Penshurst Park, and reaping benefit from his unhallowed acquisitions. By Edward VI., Penshurst, with its appurtenances, was “granted to Sir Ralph Fane, who, within two years, was executed as an accomplice of the Protector Somerset.”

Soon after this, the young monarch gave Penshurst, with other adjoining estates, to Sir William Sidney, one of the heroes of Flodden Field, “who had been his tutor, chamberlain, and steward of his household from his birth to his coronation.” Thus Penshurst came into the family of the Sidneys, concerning whom we will proceed to give some particulars.

The earliest member of the family of whom aught authentic is known is Sir William Sidney, who lived in the reign of Stephen. His son, Sir Simon (1213), married Margaret, daughter of Sir Thomas Delamere; and their son again, Sir Roger (1239), married Eleanor, daughter of Sir John Sopham, by whom he had issue two sons, Sir Henry (1268), who succeeded him, and Simon; and a daughter, married to Sir John Wales. Sir Henry Sidney married Maud, daughter of Robert d’Abernon, and granddaughter of Sir John d’Abernon. By her he had issue four sons and two daughters, and was succeeded by his eldest son, Sir Henry Sidney, who, marrying a daughter of Sir Ralph Hussey, died in 1306, and was succeeded by his son, Sir William Sidney, who took to wife Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Richard Ashburnham, by whom he had three sons, viz.: William, who married a daughter of John de Altaripa, but died without heirs male; John, who died young; and another John, who succeeded him, and marrying Helen, daughter of Robert Batisford, was the father, by her, of Sir William Sidney. This Sir William took to wife Joanna, daughter of William Brokhull, who married, first, Margaret Orre, and second, Isabell. By his first wife he had issue two sons, John, who succeeded him, and William (of whom presently). This John Sidney had a son John, who married Isabell Payteuine, by whom he had an only daughter and heiress Johanna, who married William Appesley. William Sydney, by his wife, Alicia, daughter and heiress of John Clumford, had one son, William, and four daughters. This William Sidney married Cicely, daughter and co-heiress of Sir John Michell, and Margaret, his wife, who was daughter and heiress of Matham. He was succeeded by his son, William Sidney, who married twice. By his first wife, Isabell St. John, he had a son, William, whose line ended in co-heiresses, married to William Vuedall and John Hampden; and by his second wife, Thomasen, daughter and heiress of John Barrington, and widow of Lonsford (and who, after Sidney’s death, became wife of Lord Hopton), he had issue a son, Nicholas Sidney, who married Anne, cousin and co-heiress of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.

By her he had a son, Sir William Sidney, who married Anne, daughter of Hugh Pagenham, and by her had, besides Sir Henry, who succeeded him, four daughters, viz.: Frances, who became Countess of Sussex by her marriage to Thomas Ratcliffe, Earl of Sussex, Viscount Fitzwalter, Lord Egremont and Burnell, Lord Chamberlain, Knight of the Garter, and one of the Privy Council; Mary, married to Sir William Dormer; Lucy, married to Sir James Harrington; and Anne, married to Sir William Fitzwilliam. This Sir William Sidney was made a knight, 3rd Henry VIII., at the burning of Conquest, and a banneret on Flodden Field, 5th Henry VIII. He was chamberlain to Prince Edward (afterwards Edward VI.), and also steward of his household; and his wife was “governesse of the sayd prince while he was in his nurse’s handes.” To him it was that Penshurst was given by Edward VI. as a mark of affectionate regard. Dying in 1553, he was succeeded by his son, Sir Henry Sidney, who was a Knight of the Garter, Lord President of Wales, and one of the Privy Council; he married Lady Mary, eldest daughter of John, Duke of Northumberland, and by her had issue “the incomparable” Sir Philip, and two other sons, Robert and Thomas, and a daughter, Mary, married to Henry Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. This Henry Sidney was knighted, 3rd Edward VI., and was, when only twenty-two years of age, sent by that amiable young monarch as ambassador to the French court. Under Queen Mary he was Lord Treasurer of Ireland, and Lord Chief Justice, and under Elizabeth was, in 1564, made Lord President of the Council in the Marches of Wales; Knight of the Garter in 1564; and was twice Lord Deputy of Ireland and Lord President of Wales.

Sir Henry Sidney had been brought up and educated with Edward VI., “being companion and many times the bedfellow of the prince;” and that young king died in his arms. This death so affected Sir Henry, “that he returned to Penshurst to indulge his melancholy. Here he soon afterwards sheltered the ruined family of his father-in-law, the Duke of Northumberland, in whose fall he would in all probability have been implicated but for his retirement.” He died at Ludlow, the seat of his government, in 1586—his heart being there buried, but his body was interred with great solemnity, by the queen’s order, at Penshurst. The concurring testimony of all historians and biographers, such as Camden, Sir Richard Cox, Campian (in his “History of Ireland”), Hollinshed, Anthony-À-Wood, and Lloyd (in his “State Worthies”), proves the extraordinary courage, abilities, and virtue of Sir Henry Sidney. These qualities made him the most direct and clear politician. He seems to have been incapable of intrigue and the supple arts of the court. “His dispatches are full, open, and manly; and Ireland, and perhaps Wales, to this day experience the good effects of his wise government.”

“As the father was, so was the son;” the son being Sir Philip Sidney, to whom we have alluded. Sir Philip was born at Penshurst, November 29th, 1554. His life was one scene of romance from its commencement to its close. His early years were spent in travel; and on his return he was married to the daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, a lady of many accomplishments, and of “extraordinary handsomeness,” but his heart was given to another. The Lady Penelope Devereux won it, and kept it till he fell on the field of Zutphen. Family regards had forbidden their marriage, but she was united to the immortal part of him, and that contract has not yet been dissolved. She is still the Philoclea of the “Arcadia,” and Stella in the poems of “Astrophel.” It is unnecessary to follow in detail the course of Sir Philip Sidney’s life. There is no strange inconsistency to reason off, no stain to clear, no blame to talk away.

We describe it when we name his accomplishments; we remember it as we would a dream of uninterrupted glory. His learning, his beauty, his chivalry, his grace, shed a lustre on the most glorious reign recorded in the English annals. England herself, “by reason of the widespread fame of Sir Philip Sidney,” rose exalted in the eyes of foreign nations—he was the idol, the darling of his own. For with every sort of power at his command, it was his creed to think all vain but affection and honour, and to hold the simplest and cheapest pleasures the truest and most precious. The only displeasure he ever incurred at court was when he vindicated the rights and independence of English commoners in his own gallant person against the arrogance of English nobles in the person of the Earl of Oxford. For a time, then, he retired from the court, and sought rest in his loved simplicity. He went to Wilton; and there, for the amusement of his dear sister, Mary, Countess of Pembroke, he wrote, between the years 1579 and 1581, the “Arcadia,” a work whose strange fortune it has been to be too highly valued in one age, and far too underrated in another. Immediately after its publication it was received with unbounded applause. “From it was taken the language of compliment and love; it gave a tinge of similitude to the colloquial and courtly dialect of the time; and from thence its influence was communicated to the lucubrations of the poet, the historian, and the divine.” The book is a mixture of what has been termed the heroic and the pastoral romance, interspersed with interludes and episodes, and details the various and marvellous adventures of two friends, Musidorus and Pyrocles. It was not intended to be published to the world, but was written merely to pleasure the Countess of Pembroke—“a principal ornament to the family of the Sidneys.” The famous epitaph, usually ascribed to the pen of Ben Jonson, though in reality, it appears, written by William Browne, the author of “Britannia’s Pastorals,” and preserved in a MS. volume of his poems in the Lansdowne Collection in the British Museum, although so well known, will bear repeating here:—

“Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney’s sister! Pembroke’s mother
Death, ere thou hast slain another
Fair, and learn’d, and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee!
Marble piles let no man raise
To her name for after-days;
Some kind woman, born as she,
Reading this, like Niobe,
Shall turn marble, and become
Both her mourner and her tomb.”

Again, however, Sidney returned to court, and his queen seized every opportunity to do him honour. He received her smiles with the same high and manly gallantry, the same plain and simple boldness, with which he had taken her frowns. In the end, Elizabeth, who, to preserve this “jewel of her crown,” had forcibly laid hands on him when he projected a voyage to America with Sir Francis Drake, and placed her veto on his quitting England when he was offered the crown of Poland, could not restrain his bravery in battle when circumstances called him there. At Zutphen, on the 22nd of September, 1586, he received a mortal wound; and here occurred the touching incident to which, perhaps, more than to any other circumstance, Sir Philip is indebted for his heroic fame. It is thus related by his friend and biographer, Fulke Greville, Lord Broke:—“In his sad progress, passing along by the rest of the army, where his uncle, the general, was, and being thirsty from excess of bleeding, he called for drink, which was presently brought him; but, as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along, who had been wounded at the same time, ghastly, casting up his eyes at the bottle; which Sir Philip perceiving, took it from his head before he drank, and delivered to the poor man with these words: ‘Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.’ He lived in great pain for many days after he was wounded, and died on the 17th of October, 1586.” The close of his life affords a beautiful lesson. “Calmly and steadily he awaited the approach of death. His prayers were long and fervent; his bearing was indeed that of a Christian hero.” He had a noble funeral; kings clad themselves in garments of grief: a whole people grieved for the loss of the most accomplished scholar, the most graceful courtier, the best soldier, and the worthiest man of the country and the age. He was buried in state, in the old Cathedral of St. Paul, on the 16th of February. Both Universities composed verses to his memory, and so general was the mourning for him, that, “for many months after his death, it was accounted indecent for any gentleman of quality to appear at court or in the city in any light or gaudy apparel.”

We may place implicit faith in the testimony of the contemporaries of Sir Philip Sidney; and by all of them he is described as very near perfection. Their praises must have been as sincere as they were hearty; for his fortune was too poor to furnish him with the means to purchase them with other than gifts of kindly zeal, affectionate sympathy, cordial advice, and generous recommendations to more prosperous men. From Spenser himself we learn that Sidney

“First did lift my muse out of the floor.”

In his dedication of the “Ruins of Time” to Sidney’s sister, he speaks of her brother as “the hope of all learned men, and the patron of my young muse.” “He was,” writes Camden, “the great glory of his family, the great hope of mankind, the most lively pattern of virtue, and the darling of the learned world.”

Sir Philip, dying without issue, was succeeded by his brother, Sir Robert Sidney, who was created Lord Sidney of Penshurst, and afterwards Viscount Lisle and Earl of Leicester, and a Knight of the Garter, by James I. He died at Penshurst in July, 1626, and was succeeded in his title and estates by his son, Robert, as second Earl of Leicester. This nobleman was “several times ambassador to foreign courts, and in 1641 was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, but, through some unfounded aspersions cast against his fidelity and honour, he was never permitted to seat himself in his new station, and was ultimately dispossessed of it.” He retired in disgust to Penshurst, where he spent his time in literary retirement, for he was well read in the classics, and spoke Latin, French, Italian, and Spanish, and purchased most of the curious books in those languages, “and several learned men made him presents of their works.” He remained in retirement at Penshurst during the domination of the Parliament and the rule of the Protector, and died there in November, 1677, in the eighty-second year of his age. His lordship, who married the Lady Dorothea Percy, had fourteen children, six sons and eight daughters. His eldest son, Philip, succeeded to the title and estates, and lived in troubled times the life of an easy gentleman. Not so the second son, Algernon, the famous scion of the Sidneys, whose name is scarcely less renowned in history than that of his great-uncle, Sir Philip. Of the daughters, Lady Dorothea became Countess of Sunderland, and she was the famous “Sacharissa” of the poet Waller. Waller wooed her in vain; she estimated the frivolous poet at his true value. He called her “Sacharissa—a name, as he used to say pleasantly, derived from saccharum, sugar.” Sacharissa and her lover met long after the spring of life, and on her asking him “when he would write such fine verses on her again?” the poet ungallantly replied, “Oh, madam, when you are as young again!” Algernon Sidney was born at Penshurst, in 1621. He had scarcely reached the age of manhood when he was called upon to play his part in the mighty drama then acting before the world. He joined the Parliament, and became a busy soldier—serving with repute in Ireland, where he was “some time Lieutenant-General of the Horse and Governor of Dublin,” until Cromwell assumed the position of a sovereign, when Sidney retired in disgust to the family seat in Kent, and began to write his celebrated “Discourses on Government.” At the Restoration he was abroad, and “being so noted a republican,” thought it unsafe to return to England; for seventeen years after this event he was a wanderer throughout Europe, suffering severe privations, “exposed (according to his own words) to all those troubles, inconveniences, and mischiefs into which they are liable who have nothing to subsist upon, in a place farre from home, wheare no assistance can possibly be expected, and wheare I am known to be of a quality which makes all lowe and meane wayes of living shamefull and detestible.” The school of adversity failed to subdue the proud spirit of the republican; and on his return to his native country, 1677, at the entreaty of his father, “who desired to see him before he died,” the “later Sidney” became a marked man, whom the depraved Charles and his minions were resolved to sacrifice. He was accused of high treason, implicated in the notorious Rye House Plot, carried through a form of trial on the 21st of November, and beheaded on Tower Hill on the 8th of December, 1683. His execution was a judicial murder.

Philip, third earl, lived to a great age, eighty-two, and dying in 1696, was succeeded by his grandson, John, who, dying unmarried, was succeeded successively by two of his brothers; the last earl, Jocelyn, died in 1748, without any legitimate issue. He, however, left a natural daughter, afterwards married to Mr. Streatfield, to whom he devised the whole of his estates. His next elder brother, Colonel Thomas Sidney, who died before him, had, however, left two daughters, to whom the estate properly devolved as co-heiresses; and after a long course of litigation their right was established, and the guardians of the young lady found it necessary to consent to a compromise (sanctioned by Act of Parliament) with the husbands of the two co-heiresses. In the division of the property, Penshurst passed to the younger of the co-heiresses, Elizabeth, wife of William Perry, Esq. (who assumed the name of Sidney), of Turville Park, Buckinghamshire, who repaired the mansion, and added to its collection of pictures. He died in 1757, and his widow, Mrs. Perry-Sidney, was left in sole possession. This lady, after the death of her elder sister, Lady Sherrard, purchased most of the family estates which had fallen to that lady’s share. A claim to the estates and title of Earl of Leicester was made by a son of the countess of the last earl (Jocelyn), born after her separation from her husband, but was unsuccessful.

Mrs. Perry-Sidney had an only son, Algernon Perry-Sidney, who died during her lifetime, but left two daughters, his and her co-heiresses, to the elder of whom, Elizabeth, who was married to Bysshe Shelley, Esq., Penshurst passed. Their son, Sir John Shelley Sidney, Bart., inherited Penshurst and the manors and estates in Kent; he was created a baronet in 1818. He was succeeded as second baronet by his son, Sir Philip Charles Sidney, D.C.L., G.C.H., &c., who was an equerry to the king. He was born in 1800, and in 1825 married the Lady Sophia Fitzclarence, one of the daughters of his Majesty King William IV. and Mrs. Jordan, and sister to the Earl of Munster. In 1835 he was raised to the peerage by William IV., by the title of Baron de L’Isle and Dudley. By his wife, the Lady Sophia Fitzclarence (who died in 1837), his lordship had issue one son, the present peer, and three daughters, the Honourable Adelaide Augusta Wilhelmina, married to her cousin, the Honourable Frederick Charles George Fitzclarence (who has assumed the name of Hunlocke), son of the first Earl of Munster; the Honourable Ernestine Wellington, married to Philip Percival, Esq.; and the Honourable Sophia Philippa.

The present noble owner of Penshurst, Philip Sidney, second Baron de L’Isle and Dudley, and a baronet, was born in 1828. He was educated at Eton, and was an officer in the Royal Horse Guards. He is a Deputy-Lieutenant of Kent and of Yorkshire, and Hereditary Visitor of Sidney-Sussex College, Cambridge. His lordship, who succeeded his father in 1851, married, in 1850, Mary, only daughter of Sir William Foulis, Bart., of Ingleby Manor, and has issue living, by her, four sons, the Honourable Philip, the heir-presumptive to the title, born 1853; the Honourable Algernon, born 1854: the Honourable Henry, born 1858; and the Honourable William, born 1859; and one daughter, the Honourable Mary Sophia, born 1851.

The arms of Lord de L’Isle and Dudley are, quarterly, first and fourth, or, a phoon, azure, for Sidney; second and third, sable, on a fesse engrailed, between three whelk shells, or, a mullet for difference, for Shelley. Crests, first, a porcupine, statant, azure, quills collar and chain, or, for Sidney; second, a griffin’s head erased, argent, ducally gorged, or, for Shelley. Supporters, dexter, a porcupine, azure, quills collar and chain, or; sinister, a lion, queue fourchÉe, vert. Motto: “Quo Fata Vocant.”

Penshurst, or, as it is called, Penshurst House, or Castle, or Place, “the seat of the Sidneys,” adjoins the village to which it gives a name. It is situated in the weald of Kent, nearly six miles south-west of Tunbridge, and about thirty miles from London. The neighbourhood is remarkably primitive. As an example of the prevailing character of the houses, we have copied a group that stands at the entrance of the churchyard—a small cluster of quiet cottages (recently, however, rebuilt upon the old model), behind which repose the rude forefathers of the hamlet, with brave knights of imperishable renown, and near which is an elm of prodigious size and age, that has seen generations after generations flourish and decay. The sluggish Medway creeps lazily round the park, which consists of about 400 acres, finely wooded, and happily diversified with hill and dale. A double row of beech-trees of some extent preserves the name of “Sacharissa’s Walk,” and a venerable oak, called “Sidney’s Oak,” the trunk of which is hollowed by time, is pointed out as the veritable tree that was planted on the day of Sir Philip’s birth; of which Rare Ben Jonson thus writes:—

“That taller tree of which a nut we set
At his great birth when all the muses met;”—

to which Waller makes reference as “the sacred mark of noble Sidney’s birth;” concerning which Southey also has some lines; and from which a host of lesser poets have drawn inspiration.

Until within the last thirty or forty years Penshurst House was in a sadly dilapidated state. Its utter ruin, indeed, appeared a settled thing, until Lord de L’Isle set himself to the task of its restoration, and under his admirable direction it rapidly assumed its ancient character—a combination of several styles of architecture, in which the Tudor predominated. One of our views is of the mansion, from the principal approach through the park. In another view the west front is shown, the north front being seen in short perspective; on the left is “Sir Henry’s Tower,” containing his arms, and an inscription stating that he was “Lord Deputie General of the Realm of Ireland in 1579.” This tower terminates the north wing, in which is the principal entrance, by an ancient gateway, leading through one of the smaller courts to the great hall. Over this gateway is an antique slab, setting forth that “The most religious and renowned Prince, Edward the Sixt, Kinge of England, France, and Ireland, gave this house of Pencestre with the manors, landes and appurtenaynces thereunto belonginge to, unto his trustye and well-beloved servant, Syr William Sidney, Knight Banneret.”

We cannot do better than ask our readers to accompany Mr. Parker in his tour through the house. Ascending the staircase on one side of the hall, the company passed through the solar or lord’s chamber, at one end of which Mr. Parker thought the chapel had been originally screened off, and that it was changed into a ball-room in the reign of Queen Anne. The Buckingham Building, which was next visited, was found to have been admirably restored, although it had fallen into a sad state of ruin. Fragments of one of the old windows, however, were discovered, and these enabled the architect to restore it completely. Mr. Parker considered it to be one of the most beautiful instances of restoration he had seen. It gave a most vivid idea of its original state. The company then descended into the lower chamber or parlour of the house of the time of Edward III., which was perfectly preserved, and an excellent example of a mediÆval vaulted substructure. Passing to the Elizabethan house, the company entered a suite of rooms elegantly furnished, and containing many exceedingly interesting objects. The chairs were of the time of Charles II., of English manufacture, and the best specimens of that date that could be found. There were also a couch of the same period, and an Augsburg clock of the seventeenth century, some very old and valuable paintings, and choice cabinets of carved ebony. Among other curiosities was an illustration of the funeral procession of Sir Philip Sidney. Mr. Parker then drew attention to the exterior architectural style of the Buckingham Building, added in the time of Richard II., and admirably restored by the architect. The recent restoration of the Elizabethan Building had also been ably done. The windows were especially noticeable, by the skilful manner in which the work had been executed after the style of fragments of the old work. The Elizabethan front was also an object of much interest. The exterior architecture in the servants’ court was a noble composition, full of interest.

Thus the “restorations” have been made in good taste and with sound judgment; and the seat of the Sidneys has regained its rank as one of the finest and most extensive edifices in the county of Kent.

In the interior the “Hall” is remarkably fine and interesting, with good architectural features. The pointed timber roof, upon which the slates are laid, is supported by a series of grotesque life-size corbels; and the screen of the gallery is richly carved and panelled. The gallery—“The Minstrels’ Gallery”—fills the side opposite the dais, and the Gothic windows are narrow and lofty. Every object, indeed, calls to mind and illustrates the age of feudalism. The oak tables, on which retainers feasted, still occupy the hall, and in its centre are the huge dogs in an octagonal enclosure, beneath the louvre, or lanthorn, in the roof, which formerly permitted egress to the smoke.

“On each side of the hall,” writes Mr. Parker, “were two tables and benches, which, if not actually contemporaneous with it, were certainly among the earliest pieces of furniture remaining in England. There was no doubt a similar—or probably a more ornamental—one on the daÏs at the upper end of the hall where the Elizabethan table now stood, which was used by the lord and his more honoured guests, the side tables in the lower part of the hall being for the domestics and retainers, and guests of that class. One end of the daÏs had been altered, so that the original arrangement could not be seen; but there would necessarily be at one end the sideboard, or buffet, filled with plate, arranged on shelves to be well displayed, whilst it also formed a sort of cupboard, with doors which could be closed and locked. This piece of furniture was usually placed in the recess formed by a bay window in halls of the fifteenth century, but it was doubtful whether the bay window was in use as early as the fourteenth. At the opposite end of the daÏs was the door to the staircase of the solar or upper chamber, used as the withdrawing-room for the ladies after dinner; and by its side there was another door leading to the cellar. This was originally the lower chamber under the solar, but afterwards there was often a short passage to the cellar, which was sometimes underground, and the original cellar, or lower chamber, became the parlour. But there were always two chambers, one over the other, behind the daÏs, the two together often not reaching so high as the roof of the hall. The upper room was the lord’s chamber, from which there was usually a look-out into the hall, as a check to the more riotous proceedings after the lord and his family or his guests had retired; or for the lords to see that the guests were assembled before descending with his family into the hall. In the centre of the hall was the original hearth or reredos, almost the only one, he believed, remaining. By the side of it were the andirons, or fire-dogs, for arranging logs of wood upon the hearth, and over it was an opening in the roof, with a small ornamented turret to cover it, called a smoke-louvre, which unfortunately had been removed, after having been previously Italianised and spoilt. The custom of having a large fire of logs of wood in the hall continued long after fire-places and chimneys were used in the other chambers; and it was a mistake to suppose that they were unknown in this country until the fifteenth century. There were many fire-places and chimneys of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in the chambers, but it was not customary to use them in the hall before the fifteenth. In spite of all the modern contrivances for warming rooms, it might be doubted whether for warming a large and lofty hall it was possible to obtain more heat from the same quantity of fuel than was obtained from the open fire, and where the space was so large and the roof so high that no practical inconvenience could be felt from the smoke, which naturally ascended and escaped by the louvre.”

Leaving the hall, the Ball-room is entered; it is long and narrow, the walls being covered with family portraits—some original, some copies. Queen Elizabeth’s room succeeds: it contains much of the furniture, tapestry-covered, that was placed there when the virgin queen visited the mansion. In one corner is an ancient mandoline; some portraits of the chiefs of the heroic race are here; and here is a singular picture, representing Queen Elizabeth dancing with the Earl of Leicester. The family portraits are gathered in the “Picture Gallery;” it contains no others; none but a member of it has been admitted with one exception—that of Edward VI., who gave the estate to the Sidneys. Among them are several of Sir Philip and Algernon Sidney, one of Sir Philip’s sister, the Countess of Pembroke, to whom he addressed the “Arcadia,” and who is immortalised in the epitaph we have just given, and one by Lely of the “Sacharissa” of the muse of Waller. A small chamber in the mansion contains, however, a few treasures of rarer value than all its copies of “fair women and brave men.” Among some curious family relics and records is a lock of Sir Philip Sidney’s hair; it is of a pale auburn. A lock of the hair of the ill-fated Algernon is also with it, and in tint nearly resembles that of his illustrious great-uncle.

There are many other relics of interest and value scattered throughout the mansion, but towards the close of the last century a grand collection of ancient armour, worn by generations of the Sidneys, richly emblazoned and inlaid, was sold as old iron that cumbered one of the rooms of the house; while MSS. of inestimable worth, including correspondence with the leading worthies of many centuries, mysteriously disappeared, and were probably consumed as waste paper, useful only for lighting fires.

The church at Penshurst is dedicated to St. John the Baptist. It immediately adjoins the park, and is connected, by a private walk, with the gardens of the mansion. It is an ancient and very venerable structure, containing many monuments to the Sidneys, and to members of the families of Dragnowt, Cambridge, Egerton, Head, Darkenol, Pawle, and Yden. The most interesting and beautifully wrought of the tombs is to the memory of Sir William Sidney, Knight Banneret, Chamberlain and Steward to Edward VI., and Lord of the Manor of Penshurst, who died in 1553. It stands in a small chapel at the west end of the chancel, and at the foot of the tomb is a very antique figure, carved in marble, supposed to be a memorial to Sir Stephen de Pencestre. Below is the vault which contains the dust of generations of the Sidneys. Sir William Sidney’s monument is a fine example of art, elaborately and delicately sculptured; it contains a long inscription, engraved on a brass tablet, the lettering in which is as clear and as sharp as if it were the work of yesterday. The roof of this chapel is peculiarly light and elegant. In both exterior and interior it is highly picturesque. The oak gallery is one of the earliest erections of the kind that followed the Reformation. Mr. Parker, in his address to the ArchÆological Society, thus spoke of the church:—“It exhibited specimens of the architecture of various periods, and is interesting as the burial-place of the ancient families that inhabited the mansion. The north side was of the time of Henry III., and was probably built by Sir Stephen Penchester; the south side in the time of Edward III. The chancel chapel at the end of the south aisle was the burial-place of the Pulteney family. There were also two chantry chapels on the north side, one of the time of Edward I., and the other of the time of Henry VI. Amongst the other interesting monuments and tablets there is one commemorative of the late illustrious Lord Hardinge.”

In all respects, therefore, a visit to Penshurst—now by railroad within an hour’s distance of the metropolis—may be described as a rare intellectual treat, opening a full and brilliant page of history, abundant in sources of profitable enjoyment to the antiquary, affording a large recompense to the lover or the professor of Art, and exhibiting nature under a vast variety of aspects.[32]