At the accession of James the First--whose personal recollections of Falkland and Gowrie House had given him a noted abhorrence of all such strongholds--Rochester Castle was one of the Crown manors, but was then given, with all its services annexed, to Sir Anthony Weldon[127], of Swanscombe. Much land in Kent and other counties is held of the Castle of Rochester by the service of “perfect castle guard.” Every St. Andrew’s Day, old style, a banner is hung out at the house of the steward; and if there be any unlucky tenant who cannot bring in his rent at the hour specified, he is liable to have the sum doubled at “every return of the tide” in the Medway, till the whole amount is paid up. Nothing, therefore, can be more unwelcome to the ear of the insolvent tenant, than that peculiarly harsh sound with which the full tide rushes through the centre arch of Rochester Bridge on the thirtieth of November. In vain his friend ejaculates, addressing the steward-- “Gladly would thy servant pay, Spare him but another day! He’d not absent him from your audit-- Poor man! he’d pay it an’ he had it!” but the immovable steward answers-- “Spare him? No!--Let the law decide-- Think ye that I can ‘_stop the tide_?’” So true it is, that time and tide wait for no man. When at last, like so many of its contemporaries, this castle was finally deserted as a habitable dwelling, it was stripped of all its carpentry, the hewn stone composing the stairs was removed, and all the materials that could be turned to money were announced for public sale. The old timber, consisting of the oak joists, on which rested the roof and floors of the principal apartments, was bought up and employed in the construction of a brewhouse[128]. But in attempting to remove the solid materials of the walls, the operations were suddenly arrested by this conviction, that it was much easier to quarry from nature than from such a reservoir of art; for the pickaxes made so little progress in the demolition of these massive walls--the very mortar of which is harder than the stones it cemented together--that the enterprise was soon given up in despair, as the chasm now left in the outer wall fully demonstrates[129]. The stone employed in by far the greater portion of the Castle is the same as that used in the Tower of London[130], built under the same ecclesiastical architect, Bishop Gundulph; and is what passes under the name of Caen-stone, a vast quantity of which must have been imported from the royal quarries in Normandy. In several of the repairs, however, native stone appears to have been used; but it was introduced, comparatively, at a late period. The facing of the walls is all of Normandy free-stone, and the centre is filled up with grout-work; that is, a mass of pebbles, flint shells, and sand, cemented by mortar poured into the interstices in a liquid state, and forming the whole into a solid, compact, and almost inseparable mass, more durable than