[39] The prospect has been essentially abridged by the growth of surrounding trees. It is described by Evelyn as “a prospect, doubtless, for city, river, ships, meadows, hill, woods, and all other amenities, one of the most noble in the world.”
[40] Sir Henry Newton, who took the name of Puckering, on succeeding to the estates of his maternal uncle, espoused the royal cause, and was at the battle of Edge-hill. On the Restoration he was appointed Paymaster-general of the Forces. “His good housekeeping and liberality to the poor, who scarcely ever went away unfed from his gates, gained him the general love and esteem of his neighbours, and he was distinguished throughout the kingdom for being a generous benefactor to the poor cavaliers whose services were not rewarded by King Charles the Second.” Jane, the only daughter of Sir Henry, was attacked in Greenwich Park, on the 26th of September, 1649, by a party of men, who conveyed her to Erith, and put her on board a vessel there, the object being to compel her to marry a man named Joseph Welsh, by whom she was kept confined in a nunnery in Flanders, until she was induced, “through fear and despairing of ever being restored to her friends,” to marry him. On procuring her liberty, however, she instituted criminal proceedings against Welsh and his accomplices, and the marriage was declared void. They were indicted at Maidstone in 1651, and their guilt was proved, but it does not appear that they were in custody. She afterwards married Sir John Bale, of Carleton-Curlieu.
[41] Sir William Ducie was the son of Sir Robert Ducie, who “accumulated immense wealth in trade. He was banker to King Charles the First, and notwithstanding losing £80,000 by his Majesty, died, it is said, worth more than £400,000.”—Burke’s Extinct and Dormant Baronetcies.
[42] An anecdote of the Prince and his tutor is thus recorded. The Prince was here playing at the ancient English game of golf, when lifting up his golf-club to strike the ball, one standing by said to him, “Beware that you hit not Master Newton;” whereupon he, drawing back his hand, said, “Had I done so, I had but paid my debts.”
[43] Sir Adam Newton was a native of Scotland, advanced to the Deanery of Durham in 1606, which dignity, though not in orders, he held till 1620, when he resigned it, “being, in April of that year, created a Baronet.” His appointment as tutor to Prince Henry commenced in 1599 or 1600. “He was,” according to Dr. Birch, (Life of Henry Prince of Wales,) “thoroughly qualified for the office assigned him, both by his genius and his skill in the learned and other languages; and was distinguished by the neatness and perspicuity of his Latin style, shewn by his translation of King James’s Discourse against Conrade Vorstius.” In 1610 Mr. Adam Newton was appointed Secretary to the Prince when his Royal Highness “settled his household.” The Prince, to the universal grief of the nation, died in 1612. All contemporary historians unite in his praise. The anecdote so often told of him is a key to his admirable character. When urged to be wrathful with a butcher whose dog had killed a stag he was chasing, and so spoiled his sport—“Away,” said he, “all the pleasure in the world is not worth an oath.” “He was gentle and affable; but, however, in his carriage had a noble stateliness, without affectation, which commanded esteem and respect. He was courteous, loving and affable; naturally modest and even shame-faced; most patient, which he shewed both in life and death; slow to anger; merciful to offenders, after a little punishment to make them sensible of their faults: in brief, a character that approaches nearer to perfection, is not to be found in history.” His death was mourned by “all the muses;” funeral dirges to his memory were written by Donne, Webster, Chapman, Brown, Drummond of Hawthornden, and a score of other poets.
[44] Evelyn makes frequent mention of the venerable mansion, in connection with his “excellent friend,” Sir Henry Newton, the son and successor of Sir Adam. At that time the property belonged to Sir William Ducie.
[45] There are several wild traditions—and some of them not very delicate—concerning its origin. It is said to have been the result of an intrigue of King John with the wife of a miller: but the more probable origin is, that it was symbolic of the Ox of St. Luke, by which he is usually distinguished in ancient paintings, and to this Saint the Church of Charlton is dedicated. The Fair is now held on St. Luke’s day, the 18th of October, and the minister had a bequest of twenty shillings for preaching a sermon there. It was formerly kept upon a green opposite the Church, and facing the Mansion. At this fair were sold various articles formed of horn, such as drinking cups, &c., and horns gilded were sold and worn by the frequenters; during the reign of Charles the Second, it was a carnival of the most unrestrained kind, and persons used to start from London in boats, disguised as kings, queens, millers, &c., with horns on their heads, and men dressed as females, who formed in procession and marched round the church and fair. In the time of Brand, he tells us that the folks assembled consisted “of a riotous mob, who, after a printed summons dispersed through the adjacent towns, meet near Deptford, and march from thence in procession through that town and Greenwich to Charlton, with horns of different kinds upon their heads; and at the fair there are sold rams’ horns and every sort of toy made of horn, even the ginger-bread figures have horns.” In “Pasquil’s Night-cap, or Antidote for the Head-ache,” 1612, a poem by Nicholas Breton, a long and curious history of the annual meeting for the inauguration of these horns is given, as it used to be held in great pomp and with an immense concourse of people, all of whom
“In comely sort their foreheads did adorne,
With goodly coronets of hardy horne;”
but he ends by telling us that—
“Long time this solemne custome was observ’d,
And Kentish-men with others met to feast;
But latter times are from old fashions swerv’d
And grown repugnant to this good behest.
For now ungratefull men these meetings scorn
And thanklesse prove to Fortune and the horn,
For onely now is kept a poor goose fair,
Where none but meaner people doe repair.”