the wall of the present Library of the Deanery, and which was opened, after an interval of many years, in 1864.1 The Long Chamber, out of which it is approached, must have been the chief private apartment of the Abbot, and was lighted by six windows looking out on the quadrangle. But the side council-chamber' rather indicates the first of the long line of associations which attaches to a spot immediately adjoining the Hall. 'There is an old, low, shabby wall, which runs off from 'the south side of the great west doorway into Westminster 6 SALEM Abbey. This wall is only broken by one wired window, THE JERUand the whole appearance of the wall and window is such, CHAMBER. that many strangers and inhabitants have wondered why 'they were allowed to encumber and deform this magni'ficent front. But that wall is the JERUSALEM CHAMBER, and that guarded window is its principal light.' So a venerable church-reformer 2 of our own day describes the external appearance of the Chamber which has witnessed so many schemes of ecclesiastical polity-some dark and narrow, some full of noble aspirations-in the later days of our Church, but which even in the Middle Ages had become historical. In the time of Henry IV. it was still but a private apartment-the withdrawing-room of the Abbot, opening on one hand into his refectory, on the other into his yard or garden3-just rebuilt by Nicholas Littlington, and deriving the name of Jerusalem, probably, from tapestries or pictures of the history of Jerusalem, as the Antioch Chamber in the Palace of Westminster was so called from See Chapter VI. 2 W. W. Hull's Church Inquiry, 1827, p. 244. Of late years (1867) the appearance of this venerable chamber has been much improved. See Chapter VI. 3 It is this probably which is mentioned in the accounts of Abbot Islip EE as the Jerusalem Garden in Cheney- Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting, Death of 1413. His illness. pictures of the history of Antioch.' If this was perhaps the scene of the conspiracy against the first Lancastrian king, it certainly was the scene of his death. Henry IV., as his son after him, had been filled with the thought of expiating his usurpation by a crusade. His illness, meanwhile, had grown upon him during the last years of his life, so as to render him a burden to himself and to those around him. He was covered with a hideous leprosy, and was almost bent double with pain and weakness. In this state he had come up to London for his last Parliament. The galleys were ready for the voyage to the East. All haste and possible speed was made.' It was apparently not long after Christmas that the King was making his prayers at St. Edward's Shrine, 'to take there his leave, and so to speed him on his journey,' when he became so sick, that such as were about him feared 'that he would have died right there; wherefore they for his 'comfort bore him into the Abbot's Place, and lodged him in a Chamber, and there upon a pallet laid him before 'the fire, where he lay in great agony a certain time.' He must have been brought through the Cloisters, the present ready access from the Nave not being then in existence.3 The fire' was doubtless where it now is, for which the Chamber then, as afterwards in the seventeenth century, was remarkable amongst the parlours of London, and which, as afterwards, so now, was the immediate though homely occasion of the historical interest of the Chamber. It was the early spring, when the Abbey was filled with its old deadly chill, and the friendly warmth naturally brought the King and his attendants to this spot. At length, when he 1 The fragments of painted glass -chiefly subjects from the New Testament, but not specially bearing on Jerusalem-in the northern window are of the time of Henry III., perhaps adapted from the original Chamber a certain chamber called of old time was come to himself, not knowing where he was, he freined (asked) of such as were about him, what place that was. 'The which showed to him that it belonged to the Abbot of Westminster; and, for he felt himself so sick, he commanded to ask if that Chamber had any special name. Whereto 2 'it was answered that it was named "Hierusalem." Then 'said the King, Laud be to the Father of Heaven! for now 'I know that I shall die in this Chamber, according to the 'prophecy made of me beforesaid, that I should die in 'Hierusalem.' All through his reign his mind had been filled with predictions of this sort. One especially had run through Wales, describing that the son of the eagle should conquer Je'rusalem.' The prophecy was of the same kind as that which misled Cambyses at Ecbatana, on Mount Carmel, when he had expected to die at Ecbatana in Media; and (according to the legend) Pope Sylvester II., at Santa Croce in Gerusalemme,' when he had expected to avoid the Devil by not going to the Syrian Jerusalem; and Robert Guiscard, when he found himself unexpectedly in a convent called Jerusalem in Cephalonia.3 With this predetermination to die, the King lingered on Bear me to that Chamber; there I'll lie In that Jerusalem shall Harry die;" and it was then and there that occurred the scene of his Converson's removal of the Crown, which Shakspeare has immortalised, and which, though first mentioned by Monstrelet, 1 Fabyan, pp. 388, 389. 2 Arch. xx. 257. • Palgrave's Normandy, iv. 479.— A convent bearing the name of 'Jeru'salem' exists on Mount Parnassus, and another near Moscow. It was not till long after (see Chapter III. p. 157) that the portrait of his rival, Richard II., was hung in this Chamber. But its position adds additional interest to the scene. It is perhaps too much to suppose that Shakspeare paid any atten tion to the actual localities, as he chamber where they stayed,' but sion of Henry V. is rendered probable by the frequent discussions which had been raised in Henry's last years as to the necessity of his resigning the Crown: 2 Ceux qui de luy avoient la garde un certain iour, voyans que de son corps n'issoit plus d'alaine, cuidans pour vray qu'il fut transis, luy avoient couvert le visage. Or est ainsi que comme il est accoutumé de faire en pays, on avoit mis sa courônne Royal sur une couch assez près de luy, laquelle devoit prendre presentement apres son trepas son dessusdit premier fils et successeur, lequel fut de ce faire assez prest: et print la dicte couronne, & emporta sur la donner à entendre des dictes gardes. Or advint qu'assez tost apres le Roy ieeta un soupir si fut descouvert, & retourna en assez bonne mémoire: & tant qu'il regarda où auoit esté sa couronne mise: & quand il ne la veit demanda où elle estoit, & ses gardes luy réspondirent, Sire, monseigneur le Prince vostre fils l'a emporté; & il dit qu'on le feit venir devers luy & il y vint. Et adonc le Roy lui demanda pourquoi il avoit emporté sa couronne, & le Prince dit: Monseigneur, voicy en presence ceux qui m'avoient donné à entendre & affermé, qu'estiez trespassé, et pour ce que suis vostre fils aisné, et qu'à moy appartiendra vostre couronne & Royaume apres que serez allé de vie à trepas, l'avoye prise. Et adonc le Roy en soupirant luy dit: Beau fils-comment y auriez vous droit car ie n'en y euz oncques point, & se sçaúez vous bien. Monseigneur, respondit le Prince, ainsi que vous l'avez tenu et gardé à l'éspée, c'est mon intention de la garder & deffendre toute ma vie; & adonc dit le Roy, or en faictes comme bon vous semblera: ie m'en rapporte à Dieu du surplus, auquel ie prie qu'il ait mercy de moy. Et bref apres sans autre chose dire, alla de vie à trepas.2 The English chroniclers speak only of the Prince's faithful attendance on his father's sick-bed; and when, as the end drew near, the King's failing sight3 prevented him from observing what the ministering priest was doing, his son replied, with the devotedness characteristic of the Lancastrian House, 'My 'Lord, he has just consecrated the body of Our Lord. I en |