180 



For, passing over the frail makeshift for tlio ancient drawbridge 



and entering through the wicket gate, by the side of which 



in former times a leatliern bhick jack, well replenished with 



ale, used always to stand, we see a few sliattered walls, a few 



steps of a winding stairs, a broken arcli or two, and ruined 



foundations overspreading tlie area, as all that now remains 



of what, but sixty-four years ago, was the most perfect example 



of a feudal lord's mansion in the south of England. The great 



hall, chapel, kitchen, and other rooms are still to be made out, 



but the grand gateway, with its two towers, eighty-four feet 



high, is the best of what now remains. The moat was partly 



drained and made into a pleasure garden in the reign of Queen 



Elizabeth. Over the porter's lodge is a chamber known as the 



Drummer's Hall. It is said that formerly loud spirit rappings 



were carried on there. The ghost drummer, a figure nine 



feet high, was occasionally seen, so runs the tradition, straddling 



along the battlements at a furious rate, and by his nightly tattoos 



kept the country round in a state of alarm. If time alloweil, it 



would be interesting to quoU) at length from a lively letter of 



Horace Walpole's, in wliich he gives a graphic description of the 



castle as ho saw it l>efore its dismantling — the walls standing in 



their native bricJcwnnd, raised in an age which had not reached the 



luxury of whitewash, the porch and cloister so like Eton College, 



the delightful carvings by Gil)bons, particularly two pheasants — 



the Virgin and seven long lean saints, ill done, in the windows — 



&c., as well as the account of his journey thither from Tunbridge 



Wells, how his woes increase, the roads bad beyond all badnes?, 



the night dark beyond all darkness, the guides frighteneil beyond 



all frightfulness. But time does not allow of all tiiis. I can 



only refer you to Vols. IV., X., XIV., XVI., XVIII., XIX. of the 



"S. A. C," Mr. M. A. Lower's "Sussex Contributions," and 



Horace Walpole's own correspondence. If we grieve that we can 



no longer look at tlie buiMing as he saw it, it is, at least, a 



beautiful ruin, and time and nature, 



"Softeiiinfr and concealing. 

 And busy with a hand of healing," 



