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Title: The castles and abbeys of England; Vol. 2 of 2
Author: William Beattie
Illustrator: W. H. Bartlett
Joseph Clayton Bentley
Samuel Bradshaw
Edward Paxman Brandard
Charles Cousen
S. T. Davis
W. Deebles
W. Whimper
Arthur Willmore
Release date: November 21, 2020 [eBook #63832]
Most recently updated: December 5, 2020
Language: English
Credits: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
available at The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CASTLES AND ABBEYS OF ENGLAND; VOL. 2 OF 2 ***
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| Transcriber's note: words |
| surrounded by and |
| were in Old English Font |
| in the original book. |
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THE
CASTLES AND ABBEYS
OF
ENGLAND,
FROM THE NATIONAL RECORDS, EARLY CHRONICLES, AND OTHER
STANDARD AUTHORS.
BY WILLIAM BEATTIE, M.D.,
GRAD. OF EDIN.; MEMB. OF THE ROYAL COLL. OF PHYS., LONDON; OF THE
HIST. INSTIT. OF FRANCE; AUTHOR OF “SWITZERLAND,” “SCOTLAND,” “THE
WALDENSES,” “RESIDENCE IN GERMANY,” ETC. ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY TWENTY-SEVEN ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL AND NUMEROUS WOODCUTS.
SECOND SERIES.
[Illustration]
GEORGE VIRTUE:
LONDON AND NEW YORK.
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED
BY WILLIAM MACKENZIE, 48 LONDON STREET,
GLASGOW.
[Illustration]
LIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS.
Chepstow Castle.
STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
ARTISTS. ENGRAVERS. PAGE.
CHEPSTOW CASTLE, from the Iron Bridge across the Wye.--This View, looking
towards the West, shows part of the Town, the Castle Gate, the Citadel,
the Keep, or Marten’s Tower, the Western Gate, the House and Groves
Persefield, with the precipitous banks of the River.
W. H. BARTLETT. C. COUSEN. 3
CHEPSTOW CASTLE AND BRIDGE, taken from the right bank of the Wye,
near the West Gate of the Castle.--This View, looking Eastward,
shows the principal features of the Castle on the right; the New Bridge,
the Harbour, with the Scenery on the left bank of the Wye.
W. H. BARTLETT. E. BRANDARD. 13
CHEPSTOW CASTLE AND TOWN, from the Wyndcliff, showing the windings of
the Wye, its junction with the Severn, and the opposite coasts.
W. H. BARTLETT. E. BRANDARD. 26, 27
WOODCUTS.
Vignette, Castles and Abbeys.
W. BEATTIE. MASON. 1
Shield, Sword, and Helmet.
SARGENT. EVANS. 12
Plan of Chepstow Castle.
W. H. BARTLETT. W. WHIMPER. 13
Marten’s Tower, the ancient Keep of Chepstow Castle.
W. H. BARTLETT. W. WHIMPER. 15
Ancient Oratory adjoining the Keep.
W. H. BARTLETT. W. WHIMPER. 23
The Arched Chamber in the Castle Rock.
W. H. BARTLETT. W. WHIMPER. 24
Passage leading to the Arched Chamber.
W. H. BARTLETT. W. WHIMPER. 25
Military Trophies; Age of Chivalry. 30
Tinterne Abbey on the Wye.
STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
ARTISTS. ENGRAVERS. PAGE
THE WESTERN WINDOW OF TINTERNE ABBEY.--This View is taken from a
point near the Great Altar, showing in the foreground the clustered
Pillars and Arches which formerly supported the Central Tower; the
Door on the right leading to the Cloisters; Sepulchral Slabs, the Effigy
of a Knight, with the much-admired Window to the West, and other
features.
W. H. BARTLETT. A. WILLMORE. 39
THE REFECTORY OF THE ABBEY.
W. H. BARTLETT. C. COUSEN. 52
THE DEVIL’S PULPIT.--This View is taken from a romantic rock so called, on
the left bank of the Wye, commanding a view of the Abbey westward;
the Abbot’s Meadows stretching along the right bank of the Wye; the
Church of Chapel-hill; the Village of Tinterne Parva lining the rim of
the River Crescent.
W. H. BARTLETT. J. C. BENTLEY. 62
THE FERRY AT TINTERNE.--This Plate, taken from the left bank of the Wye,
presents a North View of the Abbey, with the Western Front, the
Nave, North Transept, part of the great Eastern Window, Remains of
the Cloisters, the Abbey Gate communicating with the Ferry, with
other Conventual Buildings now in ruins, or transformed into Cottages.
The River at this point is of sufficient depth to float a moderately-sized
trading craft.
W. H. BARTLETT. J. C. BENTLEY. 66
TINTERNE ABBEY, WEST FRONT, taken from the Road leading to the “Beaufort
Arms” and the Ferry, shows the much-admired West Window, in correct
and beautiful detail; the Door opening into the Nave, the Southern
Aisle, Buttress, Pinnacle, Clerestory Windows, &c., with their masses
of luxuriant and interlacing Ivy.
W. H. BARTLETT. A. WILLMORE. 103
DOORWAY LEADING INTO THE CLOISTERS.
W. H. BARTLETT. E. J. ROBERTS. 105
DOORWAY LEADING INTO THE SACRISTY.
W. H. BARTLETT. E. J. ROBERTS. 113
WOODCUTS.
South Transept, Tinterne Abbey.
W. H. BARTLETT. W. WHIMPER. 31
Cistercian Monk.
DUGDALE. W. WHIMPER. 34
View from Entrance, Tinterne Abbey, taken from the Nave, showing the great
Eastern Window.
W. H. BARTLETT. W. WHIMPER. 40
Initial Letters, illustrative of Baronial, Monastic, and
Chivalrous Subjects. 1, 3, 13, 31
Mutilated Effigy of Earl Strongbow, or Roger Bigod. 41
Shields of the Clare and Bigod Families, from the Encaustic-Tile
Pavement in the Abbey. 42
Walter de Clare; Armorial Ensigns of the Family. 44
Richard de Clare; Ancient Family Shield. 48
Hospitium, or Guest Hall, with portions of the Refectory, and other
Conventual Buildings. 50
Conventual Alphabet, Letter H; Abbey Gate, Procession. 51
Inner View; Sketch of an Altar, Tomb, &c. 54
Conventual Alphabet, Letter P. 56
Conventual Letter O. 60
Abbatial Crosier, Cap, and Cushion. 62
Letter A. 65
Ground Plan of Tinterne Abbey. 108
Five smaller Woodcuts, illustrative of the subject.
Goodrich Castle. 122
Raglan Castle.
STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
ARTISTS. ENGRAVERS. PAGE
THE AVENUE, west of the Castle, from which the remains of the State Apartments
are seen through the trees
W. H. BARTLETT. J. C. BENTLEY. 128
THE PAVED STONE COURT
W. H. BARTLETT. S. BRADSHAW. 151
THE BARONIAL HALL, showing the great Bay Window on the right of the _Dais_,
with the Worcester Arms overhead; the ancient Fire-place, with =W=
worked in brick over the Arch; the Corbel-heads that supported the
Roof, &c. &c.
W. H. BARTLETT. E. J. ROBERTS. 154
GATEWAY IN THE FOUNTAIN COURT, with the Baronial Chapel
W. H. BARTLETT. E. BRANDARD. 156
THE MOAT.--This View of the Keep and adjacent Towers is universally admired,
both for the splendour of architectural detail and the picturesque
grouping of the features which it displays
W. H. BARTLETT. C. COUSEN. 158
THE GATEWAY TOWERS, as described in the text, with the Moat and part of the
Donjon Tower on the left
W. H. BARTLETT. E. BRANDARD. 177
THE KEEP OR DONJON TOWER, from the Moat; on the right are seen the
Gateway Towers, and in the centre is the Keep. In front, opening upon
the water, is the old sally-port; and on the right bank, partially
concealed by trees, is the private walk, formerly ornamented with
statues and shell-work, as described in the text. The Keep is
represented in the same state as when it was left by General Fairfax
after the siege
W. H. BARTLETT. J. C. BENTLEY. 200
VIEW FROM THE BATTLEMENTS.--This View is taken from the top of the Keep,
with the Moat, the Gatehouse, the Paved Court, &c., and Landscape to
the westward
W. H. BARTLETT. A. WILLMORE. 220
WOODCUTS.
Goodrich Castle 122
Ancient Armour 131
Feudal and Military Trophies 136
Morning of the Tournament 138
The Boar’s Head 146
Old Apartments in the Gateway Tower 153
Plan of the Castle 160
Baronial Trophies 175
The Armourer 178
The Arquebusier 185
The Tower of Gwent, or Keep 194
Window in the State Apartments 198
The Garter 213
State Gallery, with ancient Statues of the Earl and Countess of
Worcester 217
View from the Battlements of the Keep, looking to Raglan Church 222
View taken from the old Bowling Green, with the Keep in the centre,
and the Gate to Fountain Court on the left 226
Apartments called King Charles’s, carved Chimney-piece on the left, and
Windows looking S. and S.W. 227
The old Baronial Kitchen, as described in the text 234
Bridge over the Monnow, described in the text 239
Llanthony Abbey.
STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
ARTISTS. ENGRAVERS. PAGE
THE NAVE OF LLANTHONY ABBEY, with the Central Tower, part of the South
Transept, fragments of the Chancel, and great East Window
W. H. BARTLETT. W. DEEBLES. 244
LLANTHONY ABBEY from the North-west, showing the great West Door--the
two Square Towers--the Nave--North Aisle--the great Tower connecting
the Transepts, with fragments of the great Eastern Window
W. H. BARTLETT. E. BRANDARD. 258
LLANTHONY ABBEY from the rising Ground north of the Ruins, showing the
whole Abbey, as it now appears, in the distance, with its surrounding
Scenery, as presented from that point of view
W. H. BARTLETT. S. T. DAVIS. 272
WOODCUT.
The Abbey Church from the East.
Uske--Pembroke--Cardiff--Tenby.
STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
USKE CASTLE AND TOWN, showing the river Uske and the Bridge in the
foreground--the ancient Castle on the right, with the Town under the
acclivity--in the back ground, th
e picturesque Scenery for which the
banks of the Uske are so remarkable
W. H. BARTLETT. A. WILLMORE. 283
PEMBROKE CASTLE from the Water, comprising the Principal Gateway--the
Postern--the great Round Tower, or Donjon--the Outworks. On the
left, part of the Tower; and westward, in the horizon, the remains of the
ancient Nunnery
W. H. BARTLETT. J. COUSEN. 293
PEMBROKE CASTLE.--Interior of the Great Court--Gateway, Towers, and
Fortifications
W. H. BARTLETT. J. COUSEN. 308
WOODCUTS.
Round Tower of Uske Castle--Chamber in the same--Curthose Tower
in Cardiff Castle. 284, 286, 311
Manorbeer Castle--Neath Abbey--Kidwelly Castle--Llanstephan Castle--Carew
Castle--Margam Abbey--Appendix.
STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
MANORBEER CASTLE, near the Church
W. H. BARTLETT. 321
KIDWELLY CASTLE, from the Gwendraeth
W. H. BARTLETT. 332
KIDWELLY CASTLE, from the Inner Court--Chapel on the right
W. H. BARTLETT. 334
WOODCUTS.
Neath Abbey, the Crypt 331
Ancient Dwellings near Manorbeer Castle 335
Margam Abbey, the Crypt 348
[Illustration]
THE CASTLE OF CHEPSTOW,
Monmouthshire.
Around us spread the hills and dales,
Where Geoffrey spun his magic tales,
And called them history: the land
Whence Arthur sprung, and all his band
Of gallant knights.--BLOOMFIELD.
[Illustration: I]t has been justly remarked by statistical writers,
that, in point of fertility, picturesque scenery, and classic remains,
the county of Monmouth is one of the most interesting districts in the
kingdom. Highly favoured by nature, it is literally studded over with
the labours and embellishments of art. Watered by noble rivers,
sheltered by magnificent woods and forests, interspersed with
industrious towns and hamlets, and enriched by the labour and enterprise
of its inhabitants, it presents all those features of soil and scenery
which contribute to the beauty and stability of a country. From whatever
point the traveller may enter this county, historical landmarks meet him
at every step: feudal and monastic ruins, rich in the history of
departed dynasties, divide his attention, and fill his mind with their
heroic deeds and pious traditions. In fields where the husbandman now
reaps his peaceful harvest, he traces the shock of contending armies;
whose deadly weapons still rust in furrows which their valour had won,
and which the blood of the Roman, the Saxon, and Briton had fertilized.
From these he turns aside to contemplate the fragments of baronial
grandeur, which attest the glory of chivalry, but now, like sepulchral
mounds, proclaim the deeds of their founders:--such is the Castle of
Raglan.
In another district, sculptures, pavements, altars, statues, coins, and
inscriptions, bear testimony to Roman sway:--such is the Silurian
settlement of Caerleon, with its classic vicinity.
On another hand, where the ivy has clasped its hallowed walls, as if to
prop their decay, the traveller halts at some monastic rain; and, amid
the crumbling fragments of its lofty arches, its richly-carved windows,
shafts, and capitals, dwells with a deep and melancholy interest on the
page of its eventful history. In such places the voice of Tradition is
never mute: the vacant niche, the dismantled tower, the desecrated
altar, the deserted choir--all discourse eloquent and impressive music;
and in places where the sacred harp was once strung, its chords seem
still touched by invisible hands:--such are the Abbeys of Tinterne and
Llanthony.
It is among these remains and monuments of the past--the early homes of
saints and heroes of the olden day--that we propose to conduct the
reader. In the tour projected, we avail ourselves of such materials as
personal investigation, with that of distinguished predecessors, poets,
and historians, has furnished from times of remote antiquity, down to
the present day.
The scenery of the Wye is of classic and proverbial beauty: it is the
theme alike of poet and historian, the annual resort of
pilgrims--whether admirers of the picturesque, or valetudinarians; and
nowhere in the kingdom is nature more lavish of those charms which
attract all classes of tourists, than in the course and confines of this
beautiful and romantic river.[1] There--
Be thine object health or pleasure,
Historic sites or classic treasure;
The Roman camp, the Norman grave,
Or war-tower crumbling o’er the wave;
Or fertile vale, or vocal woods,
Or hills, and flocks, and crystal floods;
[Illustration: CHEPSTOW CASTLE,
From the Iron Bridge across the Wye.]
And haunts and homes that love to claim
The patriot’s or the poet’s name--
Then hither bend thy pilgrim way,
Where Taga’s classic waters play;
And here thy weary heart shall find,
What soothes and renovates the mind.
[Illustration: C]hepstow is of Roman foundation--the _Strigulia_ of
ancient authors--and was for centuries one of the favourite strongholds
of the kingdom. By the antiquarian researches, which are now conducted
with unprecedented success and spirit, numerous vestiges of ancient
times have been brought to light, and many more, it is believed, are
reserved for the labours of archæology. The vicinity abounds in military
encampments, all more or less remarkable for the strength of their
position, and pointing to those days of border warfare when ‘might was
right,’ and the sword the acknowledged lawgiver. But in the description
of Chepstow, our observations must be restricted to the subjects
selected for illustration; and these are so correctly depicted in the
scene before us, that the reader will obtain a far more correct idea
from the delineations of the pencil, than from any description that
could be conveyed by the pen. Chepstow is supposed, and with much
probability, to have been the chief seaport of the Silurian colony, as
both Caerwent and Portscwet have for many centuries been deserted by the
sea. Where the Roman galleys once flanked the beach, landing their
freight of mailed cohorts, the modern steamer now unloads her crowded
deck of peaceful tourists, merchants, mechanics, and students of the
picturesque.
In its general appearance--in its street architecture--Chepstow still
presents some isolated features of the primitive style. Of these, the
principal is the Western Gate, of unquestionable antiquity; and, in
point of date, taking precedence of the castle itself. By a charter
given in the 16th Henry VIII., the bailiffs were to have their prison
for the punishment of offences within the Great Gate, “which they have
builded by our commandment.” This is supposed to be a renewal of the
ancient liberties of the town, granted by Howel Dhu, A.D. 940.
The Church, part of a Benedictine priory of Norman work, has undergone
many alterations and repairs; but repairs, in some cases, are more fatal
to the style and symmetry of ecclesiastical monuments, than the wasting
hand of time, or even the shocks of violence--for they only disfigure
what they meant to adorn; and, by deviating widely from the original
plan, lose or debase all its original beauty. The nave and aisles are
nearly all that remain of the original edifice.[2] The church has
disappeared; but the pillars which supported the central tower are
still preserved on the eastern extremity, and convey some idea of the
massive strength of the original edifice. The western porch is justly
admired for its zigzag tracery; and, in this respect, it presents one of
the finest specimens that have descended to our day, of the true
Saxo-Norman character. The church contains several monuments, not
remarkable for their style or antiquity; the chief of which is that to
the memory of the second Earl and Countess of Worcester, with their
effigies at full length, in the attitude of prayer.
The repairs and restorations lately effected in this church, were
suggested and carried out by the joint taste and liberality of the late
Bishop of Llandaff and the parishioners. The result is creditable to the
parties concerned; and here, it is to be hoped, their pious labours will
not be suffered to terminate. The original priory was an alien branch of
the Benedictine monastery of Cormeilles.
The acrostic, written upon himself by the regicide Henry Martin--first
discarded from the chancel, and latterly from the sacred enclosure, by a
former vicar--has somewhat recovered from its disgrace, by gaining
admittance into the vestry, but only on sufferance. In the town and
immediate neighbourhood are some remains of religious houses, under
various denominations; for the situation of Chepstow, presenting many
advantages for commerce, was not less favourable for monachism.
In iron times, when laws of battle were,
That weakly folk, of prowess small in fight,
The galling gyves of vassalage should bear;
Ere castle seneschals, with pale affright,
Heard the shrill horn wind of the errant knight--
A foeman firm affianced to be
To all who wrong’d the feeble of their right--
Such folk the CHURCH _let from their thraldom free_,
A deed that had not shamed the Knight of Chivalry.
_Econ. of Monast. Life._
We were told of a pleasing custom, transmitted from early times, and
still observed here, that of repairing every Palm-Sunday to the graves
of departed friends, and ornamenting them with flowers--much in the same
way as the populace of Paris repair every All Saints’ morning to
Père-la-Chaise, to scatter flowers and evergreens over the graves of
their relations.
One of the finest points of view is the centre of the new iron bridge,
comprising the castle, the vessels at anchor under the stupendous wall
of rock on which it is erected; with the lawns and groves of
Piercefield--a favourite and familiar name in the list of picturesque
tours--closing the landscape. The former bridge[3] was of prodigious
height, erected on piles. The present structure was founded in 1815;
and in the March of that year, the tide rose from low-water mark to the
remarkable height of _fifty-one feet_ two inches. The new bridge
consists of five arches, the centre one of which is one hundred and
twelve feet in span; the two adjoining arches have a span of seventy
feet, and the two outer ones a span of fifty-four feet each. It is of
massive cast-metal, resting on stone piers; and its total length is five
hundred and thirty-two feet.
The depth of the moorings in the river here is so great, that, at low
water, ships of 700 tons burthen may ride safely at anchor. The rise of
tide is from thirty to nearly sixty feet, a circumstance scarcely to be
paralleled--and caused by the extraordinary swell of water at the rocks
of Beechley and Aust, which, by protruding far into the Severn, near the
month of the Wye, obstruct the flow of tide, and thus impel it with
increased rapidity into the latter.[4] In January, 1768, according to
our local guide, it attained the height of seventy feet: its greatest
rise of late years has been fifty-six feet.
In 1634, we are informed, Colonel Sandys attempted to make the Wye
navigable by means of locks; but after much labour and expense, the
experiment failed, and the locks were removed. Every one curious in the
phenomena of natural history, has heard of the intermitting well of
Chepstow, which ebbs and flows inversely with the tide--that is, when
the tide ebbs, the well flows; and when the tide flows, the well ebbs:
when the tide is at its height, the well is nearly dry; a little before
which it begins to subside, and soon after the ebb it gradually returns.
It is neither affected by wet nor dry weather, but is entirely regulated
by the tide. It is thirty-two feet in depth, and frequently contains
fourteen feet of excellent water.
In melancholy connection with the old bridge of Chepstow, is a family
calamity which drew from the late poet Campbell an epitaph[5] worthy of
his pen. The victims by the sudden catastrophe were a lady and her two
daughters, personal friends of the poet, and for whom he entertained
sentiments of great esteem and regard. The lady and her daughters were
on a visit at Chepstow; and, after hearing sermon, went on the river in
a boat. The tide was running strong at the time; and in his attempt to
clear the centre arch of the bridge, the boatman missed his aim--the
frail bark struck against the wooden pier, and upset; and the lady and
her two daughters were carried down by the stream and lost. Their
lifeless remains were afterwards recovered, and buried in the churchyard
of Monckton, where a tomb, erected to their memory, bears the following
inscription:--
“In deep submission to the will above,
Yet with no common cause for human tears,
This stone to the lost Partner of his love,
And for his children lost, a mourner rears.
One fatal moment, one o’erwhelming doom,
Tore threefold from his heart the ties of earth--
His Mary, Margaret, in their early bloom,
And Her who gave them life, and taught them worth.
“Farewell, ye broken pillars of my fate!
My life’s companion, and my two first-born!
Yet while this silent stone I consecrate
To conjugal, paternal love forlorn--
Oh, may each passer-by the lesson learn
Which can alone the bleeding heart sustain--
Where friendship weeps at virtue’s funeral urn--
That, to the pure in heart, _to die is gain_!”
It is somewhat remarkable, that the text of Scripture which they had
just heard expounded in the parish church the same morning, was--“For to
me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Of the principal victim in
this calamity, Campbell thus speaks in a private letter to a
friend:--“We looked to Mrs. Shute as truly elevated in the scale of
beings for the perfect charity of her heart. The universal feeling of
lamentation for her, accords with the benign and simple-minded beauty of
her character.”
As the limits and object of this work do not permit us to enlarge our
remarks on the particular history of Chepstow, we now proceed to that of
the castle, whose roofless walls, and moss-clad ramparts, carry us back
to the Norman Conquest, and fill an ample page in its subsequent
history. The present structure, on a Roman or Saxon foundation, is
ascribed to William Fitzosborne, Earl of Hereford,[6] upon whom his
kinsman the Conqueror had bestowed vast possessions, in this and the
neighbouring counties, which could only be secured by sword and
stronghold. On the forfeiture of his son Roger, it passed to the Clares,
another great Norman family.
The hereditary lords of the town and castle were the old Earls of
Pembroke, of the house of Clare, the last of whom was the renowned
Richard[7] Strongbow, ‘Earl of Striguil, Chepstow, and Pembroke,’ who
died in 1176, leaving a daughter, Isabel, by whose marriage the estates
and title passed into the family of Marshall, and afterwards, by a
similar union, into that of Herbert. In the reign of Edward the Fourth,
the castle, manor, and lordship of Chepstow, were held by Herbert, Earl
of Pembroke, who was beheaded after the battle of Banbury, in 1469. By
the marriage of Elizabeth, sole daughter and heiress of William
Herbert--Earl of Huntingdon, and Lord Herbert of Raglan, Chepstow, and
Gower--it descended to Sir Charles Somerset, who was afterwards created
Earl of Worcester. It is now one of the numerous castles belonging to
his illustrious descendant, the Duke of Beaufort.
During the wars of the Commonwealth, the castle was garrisoned by the
king’s troops; but, in 1645, Colonel Morgan, governor of Gloucester, at
the head of a small body of horse and foot, entered the town without
much difficulty; and, on the 5th October, sent the following summons to
Sir Robert Fitzmaurice: “Sir,--I am commanded by his Excellency, Sir
Thomas Fairfax, to demand this castle for the use of the King and
Parliament, which I require of you, and to lay down your arms, and to
accept of reasonable propositions, which will be granted both to you and
your soldiers, if you observe this summons: and further, you are to
consider of what nation and religion you are; for if you refuse the
summons, you exclude yourself from mercy, and are to expect for yourself
and soldiers no better than Stinchcombe quarter. I expect your sudden
answer, and according thereunto shall rest your friend,--THOMAS MORGAN.”
To this summons the governor answered: “Sir,--I have the same reason to
keep this castle for my master the King, as you to demand it for General
Fairfax; and until my reason be convinced, and my provisions decreased,
I shall, notwithstanding my religion and menaces of extirpation,
continue in my resolution, and in my fidelity and loyalty to the king.
As to _Stinchcombe quarter_, I know not what you mean by it; nor do
depend upon your intelligence for relief, which in any indigence I
assure me of; and in that assurance I rest your servant,--ROBERT
FITZMAURICE.
“P.S.--What quarter you give me and my soldiers, I refer to the
consideration of all soldiers, when I am constrained to seek for any.”
_Stinchcombe_, near Dursley on the Severn, was a place where the
Parliament accused Prince Rupert of putting their men to the sword.
In consequence of this answer the siege was commenced, and carried on
with so much vigour, that, in the course of four days, the castle
surrendered, and the governor and his garrison were made prisoners of
war. Later in the history of that melancholy period, it was surprised by
a body of royalists, under Sir Nicholas Kemeys. Cromwell then directed
his whole strength upon it, and reduced the town; but, for a time, found
the castle impregnable. At last, however, exhausted with fatigue, and on
the verge of famine, the garrison were forced into a parley with the
besiegers; and, in the surrender of the fortress, Sir Nicholas Kemeys
“was killed in cold blood.” The following is Colonel Ewer’s report[8] on
the reduction of Chepstow Castle. His letter is addressed to the
Honourable William Lental, Speaker of the House of Commons:--
“SIR,--Lieutenant-General Cromwell, being to march towards Pembroke
Castle, left me with my regiment to take in the Castle of Chepstow,
which was possessed by Sir Nicholas Kemish [or Kemeys], and with him
officers and soldiers to the number of 120. We drew close about it, and
kept strong guards upon them, to prevent them from stealing out, and so
to make their escape. We sent for two guns from Gloucester, and two off
a shipboard, and planted them against the castle. We raised [razed] the
battlements of their towers with our great guns, and made their guns
unusefull for them. We also plaid with our shorter pieces into the
castle. One shot fell into the governor’s chamber, which caused him to
remove his lodgings to the other end of the castle. We then prepared our
batteries, and this morning finished them. About twelve of the clock, we
made a hole through the wall, so low that a man might walk into it. The
soldiers in the castle, perceiving that we were like to make a breach,
cried out to our soldiers that they would yield the castle, and many of
them did attempt to come away. I caused my soldiers to fire at them to
keep them in. Esquire Lewis comes upon the wall, and speaks to some
gentlemen of the county that he knew, and tells them that he was willing
to yield to mercy. They came and acquainted me with his desire, to which
I answered, that it was not my work to treat with particular men, but it
was Sir Nicholas Kemish, with his officers and all his soldiers, that I
aimed at; but the governor refused to deliver up the castle upon these
terms that Esquire Lewis desired, but desired to speak with me at the
drawbridge, while I altogether refused to have any such speech with him,
because he refused Lieutenant-General Cromwell’s summons; but, being
overpersuaded by some gentlemen of the country that were there,
presently I dismounted from my horse, and went unto the drawbridge,
where he through the port-hole spake with me. That which he desired was,
that he, with all his officers and soldiers, might march out of the
castle without anything being taken from them; to which I answered, that
I would give him no other terms but that he and all that were with him
should submit unto mercy, which he swore he would not do. I presently
drew off the soldiers from the castle, and caused them to stand to their
arms; but he refusing to come out upon those terms, the soldiers
deserted him, and came running out at the breach we had made. My
soldiers, seeing them run out, ran in at the same place, and possesst
themselves of the castle, and killed Sir Nicholas Kemmish, and likewise
him that betrayed the castle, and wounded divers, and took prisoners as
followeth:--Esquire Lewis, Major Lewis, Major Thomas, Captain Morgan,
Captain Buckeswell, Captain John Harris, Captain Christopher Harris,
Captain Mancell, Captain Pinner, Captain Doule, Captain Rossitre,
Lieutenant Kemmish, Lieutenant Leach, Lieutenant Codd, Ensign Watkins,
Ensign Morgan, with other officers and soldiers, to the number of 120.
These prisoners we have put into the church, and shall keep them till I
receive further orders from Lieutenant-General Cromwell.
“This is all at present, but that I am your humble servant,
“ISAAC EWER.”
“Chepstow, May 28, 1648.”
The captain who carried the news of this event to London was rewarded
with fifty pounds; and Colonel Ewer, with the officers and soldiers
under his command, received the thanks of parliament. This was the
closing scene of its warlike history; and from that period down to the
present, the Castle of Chepstow has remained a picturesque and
dismantled ruin.
Of this brave but unfortunate governor of the castle, we collect the
following particulars:[9]--
Sir Nicholas Kemeys, Bart.,[10] the sixteenth in descent of this
honourable house, “was colonel of a regiment of horse, raised for the
king’s service, and governor of Chepstow Castle, which he bravely
defended against the powerful efforts of Cromwell and Colonel Ewer; nor
did he surrender that fortress but with his life, fighting in the most
gallant manner, till death arrested his farther exertions.”[11] There is
a traditional story, that “the Parliamentary troops, as soon as they
entered the castle, in revenge for Sir Nicholas’ obstinate resistance,
mangled his body in the most horrid manner, and that the soldiers wore
his remains in their hats, as trophies of their victory; but a branch of
the Kemeys family,” says the writer, “told me they considered it as one
of those acts of the times, which each party adopted to stigmatize the
memory of its political opponents. Not a stone, it is said, nor other
tribute of recollection, in any cemetery in Monmouthshire, records the
spot in which the remains of this brave officer were deposited.”[12]
A portrait of Sir Nicholas Kemeys was “in the possession of the late
Mrs. Sewel[13] of Little Kemeys, near Usk, in this county, now the
property of John G. Kemeys, Esq. The picture is a three-quarters length.
He is drawn in armour, and seems about forty years of age. He appears to
have possessed a good person, if an opinion might be formed from his
portrait. He has a fine open countenance, round face, dark piercing
eyes, an aquiline nose, and wore his own hair, which was black and
rather curly.” According to the fashion of his day, he is represented
with whiskers, and a small tuft of hair growing under the lower lip--or,
in modern phraseology, an _imperial_. “Although it is what an artist
would pronounce a dark picture, yet, on the whole, it is in good
preservation. There are two more portraits of this gentleman--one in the
possession of the late Sir Charles Kemeys, Bart. of Halsewell, in
Somersetshire; the other at Malpas, near Usk, probably all painted at
the same time and by the same artist, but whose name has not been handed
down in conjunction with his works.”
The house of Kemeys,[14] “originally De Camois, Camoes, and Camys, is of
Norman extraction, and the name of its patriarch is to be found on the
roll of Battle Abbey. Large possessions were granted to the family in
the counties of Sussex and Surrey; and, so early as the year 1258, Ralph
de Camois was a baron by tenure. He was succeeded by his son, Ralph de
Camois, who was summoned to parliament in the 49th year of Henry III.;
and his descendants sat among the peers of the realm, until the demise,
issueless, of Hugh de Camois, who left his sisters (Margaret, married to
Ralph Rademelde, and Aleanor, wife of Roger Lewknor) his coheirs. A
branch of the family which had settled in Pembrokeshire, there enjoyed
large possessions, and, as lords of Camaes and St. Dogmaels, exercised
almost regal sway. In the conquest of Monmouthshire and Glamorganshire,
the Camays were much distinguished, and were rewarded with grants of
“Kemeys Commander” and “Kemeys Inferior.” One branch became established
at Llannarr Castle, in Monmouthshire (now in the possession of Colonel
Kemeys-Tynte), and another fixing itself at Began, in Glamorganshire,
erected the mansion of _Kevanmably_, the residence of the present chief
of the family.
“Edward Kemeys, son of Edward Kemeys who was at the conquest of Upper
Gwent, married the daughter and heiress of Andrew de Began, lord of
Began, a lineal descendant of Blethyn Maynerch, lord of Brecon, and thus
acquired the lordship of Began, which, for centuries after, was the
principal abode of his descendants. His great-great-great-grandson,
Jenkin Kemeys of Began, married Cristley, daughter of Morgan ap
Llewellyn, by whom he had one son, Jevan; and a daughter, married to
Jevan ap Morgan of New Church, near Cardiff, in the county of Glamorgan,
and was grandmother of Morgan Williams--living _temp._ Henry VIII.--who
espoused the sister of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, and had a son,
Sir Richard Williams, who assumed, at the desire of Henry VIII., the
surname of his uncle Cromwell; and through the influence of that
once-powerful relative, obtained wealth and station. His great-grandson
was the Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell.[15] From Jenkin Kemeys was
lineally descended Sir Nicholas Kemeys of Kevanmably, who represented
the county of Glamorgan in parliament, and was created a baronet 13th
May, 1642. This gentleman, remarkable for his gigantic stature and
strength, was pre-eminently distinguished by his loyalty to Charles I.,
and on the breaking out of the civil war (as we have already observed),
having raised a regiment of cavalry, was invested with the command of
Chepstow Castle.”
Notwithstanding the alliance with the blood of Cromwell, loyalty seems
to have been hereditary in the house of Kemeys. In the family biography
we have the following anecdote:--“Sir Charles Kemeys--knight of the
shire for Monmouth, in the last parliament of Queen Anne, and for
Glamorgan in the two succeeding parliaments--when on his travels, was
shown great attention by George I. at Hanover, and frequently joined the
private circle of the Elector. When his majesty ascended the British
throne, he was pleased to inquire why his old acquaintance Sir Charles
Kemeys had not paid his respects at court; and commanding him to repair
to St. James’s, sent him a message, the substance of which was--that the
King of England hoped Sir Charles Kemeys still recollected the number of
pipes he had smoked with the Elector of Hanover in Germany. Sir Charles,
who had retired from parliament, and was a stanch Jacobite, replied,
that he should be proud to pay his duty at St. James’s to the Elector of
Hanover, but that he had never had the honour of smoking a pipe with the
King of England.”
Sir Charles Kemeys died without issue, when the baronetcy expired, and
his estates devolved on his nephew, Sir Charles Kemeys-Tynte, Bart. of
Halsewell, at whose demise, also issueless, his estates vested in his
niece, Jane Hassell, who married Colonel Johnstone, afterwards
Kemeys-Tynte,[16] and was mother of the present (1838) Colonel
Kemeys-Tynte of Halsewell and Kevanmably. Through the Hassells, the
family of Kemeys-Tynte claim descent from the Plantagenets.[17]
We now proceed to a brief description of the castle in its ruinous
state.
[Illustration: CHEPSTOW CASTLE AND BRIDGE.
From the right bank of the Wye.]
Plan of Chepstow Castle.
[Illustration:
EXPLANATION OF THE PLAN.
1. Entrance Gateway.
2. Marten’s Tower.
3. Well.
4. First Court.
5. Rooms above the Vaulted Chamber.
6. Second Court.
7. Hall, or Chapel.
8. Third Court.
9. Sunken Way and Drawbridge.
10. Fourth Court.
11. Sunken Way and Bridge.
12. Perpendicular Cliff.
]
[Illustration: B]UILT on a lofty perpendicular rock, that rises sheer
from the bed of the Wye, the position of the Castle is at once strong
and commanding; while, on the land side, the great height and massive
strength of its walls and outworks, present the remains of all that
ancient art could effect to render it impregnable.
The grand entrance is defended by two circular towers of unequal
proportions, with double gates, portcullises, and a port-hole, through
which boiling water or metallic fluids could be discharged on the heads
of the besiegers. The massive door, covered with iron bolts and clasps,
is a genuine relic of the feudal stronghold. The knocker now in use is
an old four-pound shot. This introduces us to the great court, sixty
yards long by twenty broad, and presenting the appearance of a tranquil
garden. The walls are covered with a luxuriant mantle of ivy, through
which the old masonry appears only at intervals; and here the owl finds
himself in undisturbed possession, unless when roused by the choir of
numberless birds that flit from tree to tree, or nestle among the
leaves. The lover of solitude could hardly find a retreat more suited to
his taste. The area, interspersed with trees, and covered with a fine
grassy carpet, is annually converted into a flower and fruit show, for
the encouragement of horticulture, under the patronage of the noble
owner.
The castle, as one of its historians conjectures, is of the same
antiquity as the town itself, to which it served the purposes of a
citadel; but the precise epoch, neither Leland, Camden, nor any
topographical writer has been able to ascertain. Stow, indeed,
attributes the building of the castle to Julius Cæsar, but there is no
evidence to support his supposition. Camden, on the contrary, thinks it
of no great antiquity; for several affirm, says he, that “it had its
rise, not many ages past, from the ancient Venta”--the Venta Silurum of
Antoninus. Leland, in his Itinerary, says--“The waulles begun at the
edge of the great bridge over the Wye, and so came to the castle, which
yet standeth fayr and strong, not far from the ruin of the bridge. In
the castle ys one tower, as I heard say, by the name of Longine.[18] The
town,” he adds, “hath nowe but one paroche chirche: the cell of a blake
monk or two of Bermondsey, near London, was lately there suppressed.”
During the life of Charles-Noel, fourth Duke of Beaufort, the castle was
let on a lease of three successive lives to a Mr. Williams, a general
merchant or trader, who adapted some of the great apartments to the
following purposes, namely--the great kitchen to a _sail_ manufactory;
the store-room to a wholesale wine-cellar; the grand hall, or
banqueting-room, was occupied by a _glass_-blower; and the circular
tower by the gate, leading into the second court, was used as a nail
manufactory. After the death of Mr. Williams, the roofs fell in, one
after another--that of the Keep in 1799, the year in which the lease
expired; and thus the stately castle was reduced to its present
condition--a vast and melancholy ruin.
The only apartments now inhabitable are those of its loyal and
intelligent warden and his family, whose civility and general
information respecting the castle are very acceptable to its daily
visitors.
One of the principal towers was converted, during the above-named lease,
into a glass manufactory, the furnace of which has left its scars deeply
indented in the solid masonry.
In a small chamber off the banqueting-hall, seventy-five pieces of
ancient silver coin were recently discovered, and are now at Badminton
Park; but of what value or of what reign we have not yet ascertained.
An ancient door--as ancient, we are told, as the castle itself--opens
upon the second court, of very nearly the same dimensions as the first,
and now also converted into a garden. Beyond this is an apartment,
supposed by some to have been the garrison chapel;[19] but its pointed
arches and elaborately-carved windows, all evincing an air of stately
dignity, leave no doubt of its having been the great baronial hall,
where the Clares, the Marshalls, and Herberts, drew around them their
chivalrous retainers.
Connected with this, by a winding path, is a third court, now cultivated
as an orchard; so that, with trees, flowers, and luxuriant ivy, the
whole enclosure presents a mass of vegetation, in which the stern
features of warlike art have almost disappeared.
A walk along the ramparts westward from this point, commands some
glimpses of beautiful scenery, with the Wye at the base of the rocks
expanding in the form of a lake, where vessels are seen riding at
anchor, and boats passing to and fro--here gay with pleasure parties,
and there laden with foreign or inland produce.
[Illustration]
The Keep is another object which the tourist will regard with interest,
as the twenty years’ prison of Henry Marten, whose vote, with those of
his “fellow-regicides,” at the trial of Charles the First, consigned
that unfortunate monarch to the block. To his epitaph written upon
himself we have already alluded; and the reader is no stranger,
probably, to Southey’s lines on the room where he was confined, which,
with a sarcastic parody written by Canning, will be found in these
pages.
Henry Marten, who attained such unenviable notoriety, was
the son of Sir Henry Marten, a judge of the Admiralty, and M.P. for
Berkshire. He was an able and active partisan of Oliver Cromwell, one
of the “Executive Council;” and in the old prints representing the
trial of the martyr-king, Marten occupies the chair on Cromwell’s
left hand, immediately under the arms of the Commonwealth.[20] At the
Restoration, he was brought to trial, and sentenced to death; but his
sentence was afterwards commuted to imprisonment for life. In the keep
of this castle, since called “Marten’s Tower,” he spent twenty years;
but much was done to soften the rigour of his sentence. “His wife
was permitted to share his imprisonment; he was attended by his own
domestic servants, who were accommodated in the same tower; and he had
permission to visit, and receive visits from his friends in the town
and neighbourhood. He died in 1680, at the mature age of seventy-eight,
neither disturbed by the qualms of conscience, nor enfeebled by the
rigour of confinement; and left behind him the character of a liberal
and indulgent master.” At a comparatively recent period, the principal
chamber of the Keep was frequently used by the inhabitants of
Chepstow as a ball-room; and there is now residing in the town a lady,
who remembers having been present at more than one of these festive
reunions.
For the following notice of this “stern republican,”--somewhat different
from the preceding--we are indebted to Heath’s description of
Chepstow:--
Henry Marten,[21] commonly called Harry Marten, was born in the city of
Oxford, in the parish of St. John the Baptist, in a house opposite to
Merton College Church, then lately built by Henry Sherburne, gent., and
possessed, at the time of Harry’s birth, by Sir Henry, his father. After
he had been instructed in grammar-learning in Oxford, he became a
gentleman commoner of University College in the beginning of 1617, aged
fifteen years, where, and in public, giving a manifestation of his
pregnant mind, had the degree of Bachelor of Arts conferred upon him in
the latter end of the year 1619. Afterwards he went to one of the Inns
of Court, travelled into France, and on his return married a lady of
considerable worth; but with whom, it is said, “he never afterwards
lived.”[22]
In the beginning of the year 1640, he was elected one of the knights for
Berks, to serve in the parliament that began at Westminster the 13th of
April; and again, though not legally, in October, to serve in the
parliament that began at the same place on the 3d of November following.
We shall not enter into his political actions on the great theatre of
public life--as they are to be found in all the histories of England,
from the reign of Charles I. to the Restoration--but content ourselves
with noticing those parts of it which are more peculiarly interesting to
the traveller in Monmouthshire, namely, the manner in which he passed
his time, with occasional anecdotes, during his confinement in the
castle of Chepstow.
Wood, an ultra-royalist, gives the following character of him:--“He was
a man of good natural parts--was a boon familiar, witty, and quick with
repartees--was exceeding happy in apt instances, pertinent and very
biting; so that his company, being deemed incomparable by many, would
have been acceptable to the greatest persons, only he would be drunk too
soon, and so put an end to all their mirth for the present. At length,
after all his rogueries, acted for near twenty years together, were
passed; he was at length called to account for that grand villany, of
having a considerable hand in murdering his prince, of which being
easily found guilty, he was not to suffer the loss of his life, as
others did, but the loss of his estate, and perpetual imprisonment, for
that he came in upon the proclamation of surrender. So that, after two
or three removes from prison to prison, he was at length sent to
Chepstow Castle, where he continued another twenty years, not in
wantonness, riotousness, and villany, but in confinement and repentance,
if he had so pleased.”
“This person--who lived very poor, and in a shabbeel condition in his
confinement, and would be glad to take a pot of ale from any one that
would give it to him--died with meat in his mouth, that is, suddenly, in
Chepstow Castle (as before mentioned), in September, 1680; and was, on
the 9th day of the same month, buried in the church of Chepstow. Some
time before he died he made the epitaph, by way of acrostic, on himself,
which is engraved on the stone which now covers his remains.”
Mrs. Williams--“wife of the person who had the care of the castle, and
who died in 1798, at a very advanced age--well knew and was intimately
acquainted with the women who waited and attended on Harry Marten during
his confinement in the castle. They were two sisters, and their maiden
name was Vick.
“From what I could learn, I am of opinion that the early part of
Marten’s confinement was rather rigorous; for whatever Mrs. Williams
mentioned had always a reference to the latter part of it; and in this
conjecture I am supported by her remark, that though he had two
daughters living, they were not indulged with sharing their father’s
company in prison till near the close of his life. In the course of
years, political rigour against him began to wear away, and he was
permitted not only to walk about Chepstow, but to have the constant
residence of his family, in order to attend upon him in the castle. This
indulgence at last extended itself so far, as to permit him to visit any
family in the neighbourhood, his host being responsible for his safe
return to the castle at the hour appointed.
“One anecdote of Marten, as mentioned by Mrs. Williams, I shall here
repeat. Among other families who showed a friendly attention to the
prisoner, were the ancestors of the present worthy possessor of St.
Pierre, near Chepstow. To a large company assembled round the festive
dinner-board Marten had been invited. Soon after the cloth was removed,
and the bottle put into gay circulation, Mr. Lewis, in a cheerful
moment, jocularly said to Marten, ‘Harry, suppose the times were to come
again in which you passed your life, what part would you act in them?’
‘_The part I have done_,’ was his immediate reply. ‘Then, sir,’ says Mr.
Lewis, ‘I never desire to see you at my table again;’ nor was he ever
after invited.[23]
“Great credibility,” says our authority, “deserves to be attached to
this story, as containing Marten’s political opinion at that day; and,
to support a belief in it, the late Rev. J. Birt, canon of Hereford,
thus speaks of him, in his letter to the Rev. J. Gardner, prefixed to
his ‘Appendix to the History of Monmouthshire:’--‘Henry Marten, one of
the incendiary preachers during the great rebellion, was, at the
Restoration, imprisoned for life at Chepstow, and buried there. As far
as I can recollect, he died as he lived, with the fierce spirit of a
republican.’ The Rev. Mr. Birt, who died at the advanced age of
ninety-two, held distinguished preferment in the neighbourhood of
Chepstow, and had been in the habits of intimate acquaintance with all
the first families in the county. His testimony might therefore be said
to stamp the anecdote with the sanction of truth, without seeking for
farther evidence.
“Of his personal appearance, a friend of mine--on the authority of the
late Mr. Harry Morgan, attorney at Usk, whose father had been in
Marten’s company, and by whom he had been informed of it--says that Mr.
Morgan described him, in general terms, as ‘a smart, active little man,
and the merriest companion he ever was in company with in his life.’
Wood praises his social qualities, and talent for conversation; but that
‘he lived in a shabbeel condition, and would take a pot of ale from any
one that would give it to him,’ may be doubted; unless he meant that the
kindness shown to him by the families in and near Chepstow admitted such
an interpretation.[24]
“Let us attend him to the grave. It is hardly possible to admit that
such a mind as that of Marten would have penned--much less to suppose
that he would have wished to have engraved on his tomb--the wretched
doggerel that goes under the name of his ‘Epitaph,’ and which is said to
have been written by him during his confinement in the castle. Not the
smallest circumstance respecting his funeral is left on record; and
whether his obsequies were marked with public procession, or whether he
retired to the grave unnoticed and unregarded, tradition has not
preserved the slightest memorandum.”
His biographer might, without difficulty, have concluded that--in those
times, at all events--an imprisoned rebel would not be permitted to have
any but the most private funeral. All that we are certain of is, that he
was buried in the chancel of the church of Chepstow; and that, on a
large stone from the Forest of Dean, is still to be traced the following
“Epitaph, written on himself,” by way of acrostic, but now much
defaced:--
(ARMS.)
Here, September the ninth,
was buried
A true Englishman,
Who, in Berkshire, was well known
To love his country’s freedom ’bove his own;
But being immured full twenty year,
Had time to write, as doth appear,
HIS EPITAPH.
=H= ere or elsewhere--all’s one to you, to me--
=E= arth, air, or water, gripes my ghostly dust,
=N= one knows how soon to be by fire set free:
=R= eader, if you an oft-tryed rule will trust,
=Y= ou’ll gladly do and suffer what you must.
=M= y time was spent in serving you, and you;
=A= nd death’s my pay, it seems, and welcome too:
=R= evenge destroying but itself, while I
=T= o birds of prey leave my old cage, and fly.
=E= xamples preach to the eye.--Care thou, mine says,
=N= ot how you end, but how you spend your days.[25]
Having retired to that asylum which is the common lot of humanity, his
ashes were for some years permitted to rest in peace. But at length a
clergyman of the name of Chest, we are told, was appointed to the
vicarage of Chepstow, who, glowing with admiration for those principles
of the constitution which he considered had been subverted, openly
declared that the bones of a regicide should never pollute the chancel
of that church of which he was vicar, and immediately ordered the corpse
to be disinterred, and removed to the place where it now reposes, in the
middle of the north transept, and over it the stone is placed that bears
the epitaph before mentioned.
About this time, as Heath informs us, “there came to reside at Chepstow
a person of the name of Downton, who afterwards married a daughter of
the Rev. Mr. Chest; but, whatever affection he might cherish for the
lady, the father was one unceasing object of his ridicule and contempt;
and when the vicar died, he publicly satyrised him in the following
lines:--
‘Here lies at rest, I do protest,
One Chest within another;
The chest of _wood_ was very good--
Who says so of the other?’”
Marten’s apartment, as we have said, was in “the first story of the
eastern tower, or keep; for this part of the building contained only a
single room on each floor, if we except those near the top. Could he
have detached from his recollection the idea of Sterne’s starling--‘I
can’t get out, I can’t get out’--the situation might have been chosen
out of remembrance or tenderness to the rank he had formerly held in
society; for though it bore the name of a _prison_, it was widely
different from the generality of such places. The room measured fifteen
paces long, by twelve paces wide, and was very lofty. On one side, in
the centre, was a fire-place, two yards wide; and the windows, which
were spacious, and lighted both ends of the apartment, gave an air of
cheerfulness not frequent in such buildings. In addition to this, he
could enjoy from its windows some of the sweetest prospects in Britain.
This apartment continues to bear the name of ‘Marten’s Room’ to this
day, and few travellers enter the castle without making it an object of
their attention.”
“Marten,” says Mr. Seward, “was a striking instance of the truth of
Roger Ascham’s observation, who, in his quaint and pithy style,
says--‘Commonlie, men, very quick of wit, be very light of conditions.
In youth, they be readie scoffers, privie mockers, and over light and
merrie. In age they are testie, very waspish, and always over miserable;
and yet few of them come to any great age, by reason of their miserable
life when young; and a great deal fewer of them come to show any great
countenance, or beare any great authority abroade, in the world; but
either they live obscurely, men wot not how, or dye obscurely, men mark
not when.’[26]
“In the dining-parlour of St. Pierre, near Chepstow, there hung,” in the
time of the writer, “a painting, said to be of Harry Marten. He is
represented at three-quarters length, in armour. In his right hand he
holds a pistol, which he seems about to discharge; while with the left
he grasps the hilt of his sword. Behind him is a page, in the act of
tying on a green sash; the whole conveying an idea that the person was
about to undertake some military enterprise. Judging from the picture,
the likeness appears to have been taken when Marten was about forty-five
years of age. He there seems of thin or spare habit, with a high
forehead, long visage; his hair of a dark colour, and flowing over the
right shoulder. The cravat round the neck does not correspond with the
age in which he lived, being tied in the fashion of modern times. There
is a great deal of animation and spirit in his countenance,
characteristic of the person it is said to represent.”[27]
Having adverted to Mr. Southey’s “Inscription,” and its parody by
_George Canning_, we subjoin the following copies from the originals.
The first, by Southey, is thus headed:--
INSCRIPTION
_For the apartment in Chepstow Castle, where
Harry Marten the regicide was imprisoned thirty years._
For thirty years secluded from mankind,
Here Marten lingered. Often have these walls
Echoed his footsteps, as with even tread
He paced around his prison. Not to him
Did nature’s fair varieties exist:
He never saw the sun’s delightful beams,
Save when through yon high bars he poured a sad
And broken splendour. Dost thou ask his crime?
He had _rebelled against the king, and sat
In judgment on him_; for his ardent mind
Shaped goodliest plans of happiness on earth,
And peace and liberty. Wild dreams! but such
As Plato loved; such as with holy zeal
Our Milton worshipp’d. Blessed hopes! awhile
From man withheld, even to the latter days,
When CHRIST shall come, and all things be fulfilled!
The next is the parody by Canning, as published in the first number of
the Anti-Jacobin, 1797:--
INSCRIPTION
_For the door of the cell in Newgate, where Mrs. Brownrigg
the ’prentice-cide was confined
previous to her execution._
For one long term, or e’er her trial came,
Here Brownrigg lingered. Often have these cells
Echoed her blasphemies, as with shrill voice
She screamed for fresh Geneva. Not to her
Did the blithe fields of Tothill, or thy street,
St. Giles, its fair varieties expand;
Till at the last, in slow-drawn cart, she went
To execution. Dost thou ask her crime?
_She whipped two female ’prentices to death,
And hid them in the coal-hole._ For her mind
Shaped strictest plans of discipline. Sage schemes,
Such as Lycurgus taught, when at the shrine
Of the Orthyan goddess he bade flog
The little Spartans: such as erst chastised
Our Milton when at college. For this act
Did Brownrigg swing. Harsh laws! but time shall come
When France shall reign, and laws be all repealed!
Adjoining the Keep, or Marten’s Tower, is a small chamber, or Oratory,
remarkable for the elegance of its proportions, and the chaste but
elaborate style of its ornaments. The lancet-pointed window, encircled
by rows of delicately-carved rosettes, is in fine preservation.--_See
the opposite page._
The narrow path which, at a height of six feet above the ground,
connects this portion of the castle with the donjon tower, commands a
range of beautiful scenery, the prominent features of which are the
lawns and groves of Persefield, the precipitous but picturesque banks of
the river, with a noble background for the picture in the commanding
summit of the Wynd Cliff, which overlooks the scene.
The West Gate, a Gothic archway, strongly defended by a double
portcullis, with moat and drawbridge, opens into the fourth or principal
court already noticed; and as portions of Roman brick are here observed
in the masonry, some doubts have arisen as to its date: but whether
furnished from an earlier building on the spot, or transported hither
from the ruins of Caerleon, is a question which, so far as the writer
could ascertain, is still undecided. It seems very
[Illustration]
probable, however, that the commanding site occupied by the present
castle was originally that of a strong military post, built and
garrisoned by the Romans, the ruins of which were converted into a
Norman fortress by William Fitzosborne.
In the view from the right bank of the Wye, the western gate is seen in
all its elegant and massive proportions. The square tower, with its
machicolated parapet, angular turrets, and vertical balustrariæ--through
which flights of arrows or other missiles met the assailants--give a
striking foreground to the picture; while the contiguous towers and
bastions, lessening as they recede, and assuming new and often fantastic
shapes, present a vast and highly diversified mass of buildings. Here
clothed with trees and shrubs, there jutting forward in bare and broken
fragments, and here again rising sheer and high from the water’s edge,
their huge blocks of masonry seem as if they were rather the
spontaneous work of nature than the laborious productions of art. In
this view are comprised the whole line of embattled walls flanking the
river, the new bridge, and part of the lower town; the rocky boundaries
to the southward, with the modern quay, where the daily steamer
discharges her cargo and passengers. The precipitous cliffs, by which
the river is there confined, terminate upwards in wooded and pastoral
scenes--enlivened here and there by cottages and farms, which command
some remarkable and striking views of the river, the town and castle,
with its western landscapes of hill, forest, and park-like scenery. A
short way beyond the extreme verge of the engraving, the river Wye will
shortly be spanned by a magnificent bridge, part of the South Wales
Railway, now in progress.
[Illustration]
An arched Chamber, cut in the natural rock overhanging the river at a
great height, is supposed to have been used as a prison, but more
probably as a store-room; for, by anchoring the boats close to the rock,
their cargoes for the service of the garrison, whether provisions[28] or
ammunition, could be easily hoisted into security by means of a
windlass; and no doubt, under the cloud of night, and with a
spring-tide, many a goodly bark has been thus relieved of its freight;
nor is it improbable that adventurous captives may have thus found their
way to some friendly bark, and regained their freedom.[29] In the hands
of a skilful romance writer, this scene might be turned to excellent
account--more particularly if the descending basket contained a damsel
“flying from tyrants jealous,” and her lover-knight stood in the boat to
receive her--all heightened by such dramatic machinery as midnight, with
the tender hopes and imminent hazards of the enterprise, would easily
supply. But all this is foreign to the spirit of archæology, which turns
with disdain from such puerile vanities, and beckons us forward to the
breach where the iron balls of the Commonwealth were directed with such
fury in the last assault. Their batteries played from the opposite
height, which the guide will point out as the commanding position which
rendered the cause of the defenders so useless and desperate, and added
another triumph to the Parliamentary cannon.
[Illustration]
The Passage, or gallery, leading down to the vaulted chamber, is
accurately shown in the annexed woodcut. It has an air of Gothic
antiquity that harmonizes well with the place, for its pointed style and
proportions clearly show that it belongs to the earliest portion of the
structure. The massive arch, seen through the opening, is that of the
mysterious chamber already noticed. The window,[30] terminating the
vista, overlooks the river, and seems to project from the precipitous
rocks that here form an impregnable barrier to the fortress; and even
when the tide is at its full, the window seems suspended at a dizzy
height above the water. The uses to which the passage and its chamber
were originally applied, were probably those of a temporary refuge and
retreat; and were, no doubt, well understood and appreciated by the
Norman castellan, to whom the means of successful resistance or safe
retreat were the grand objects in a feudal residence.
Such are the general features of this ancient stronghold.[31] But on the
minuter points of its history, architecture, and internal arrangements,
our restricted limits will not permit us to enlarge; but, aided by
faithful engravings and woodcuts, the descriptions, however brief, may
serve to convey a detailed and correct notion of the whole.
Persefield.--In the immediate environs, many objects are found to invite
the traveller’s attention; but, as a combination of rich English
scenery, the attractions of Persefield, or Piercefield, stand
pre-eminent. The house and grounds are thus briefly described: The
latter extend westward along the precipitous banks of the Wye, as shown
in the engraving. On the north is the Wind-Cliff, or Wynd Cliff. The
grounds are divided into the lower and upper lawn by the approach to the
house, a modern edifice, consisting of a stone centre and wings, from
which the ground slopes gracefully but rapidly into a valley profusely
shaded with ornamental trees. To give variety to the views, and disclose
the native grandeur of the position, walks have been thrown open through
the woods and along the precipitous margin of the river, which command
the town, castle, and bridge of Chepstow, with the Severn in the
distance, backed by a vast expanse of fertile valleys and pastoral
hills. But to describe the romantic features of this classic residence
with the minuteness they deserve, would far exceed our limits; it is a
scene calculated to inspire the poet as well as the painter; and it is
gratifying to add that, by the taste and liberality of the owner,
strangers are freely admitted to the grounds and walks of Persefield.
The Wynd Cliff.--This lofty eminence commands one of the finest and most
varied prospects in the United Kingdom; while the scenery of the Cliff
has a particular charm for every lover of the picturesque. Poet,
painter, and historian, have combined their efforts to make it a place
of pilgrimage; but, to be seen in all its beauty, the rich and various
tints of autumn and a bright sun are indispensable accessories. It may
be called the “Righi” of the Wye, commanding a vast circumference of
fertile plains and wooded hills, all enlivened
[Illustration: _Chepstow Castle and Town._
From the Windcliff.]
with towns, villages, churches, castles, and cottages; with many a
classic spot on which the stamp of history is indelibly impressed--names
embodied in our poetry, and embalmed by religious associations. From the
edge of the precipice, nearly a thousand feet in height, the prospect
extends into eight counties--Brecon, Glamorgan, Monmouth, Hereford,
Gloucester, Wilts, Somerset, and Devon.
For the enjoyment of this inspiring scene, every facility has been
supplied; and even the invalid tourist, with time and caution, may reach
the summit without fatigue. “The hand of art,” says the local guide,
“has smoothed the path up the declivity, tastefully throwing the course
into multiplied windings, which fully accord with its name, and the
nature of the scenery which it commands. At every turn some pendant rock
girt with ivy, some shady yew, or some novel glimpse on the vale below,
caught through the thick beechy mantle of this romantic precipice,
invite the beholder to the luxury of rest.” Still ascending, the tourist
penetrates a dark-winding chasm, through which the path conducts him in
shadowy silence to the last stage of the ascent, which gradually
discloses one of the most enchanting prospects upon which the human eye
can repose. From the platform to the extreme verge of the horizon, where
the Downs of Wiltshire and the Mendip hills form the boundary line, the
eye ranges over a vast region of cultivated fields, waving forests, and
populous towns, sufficient of themselves to furnish the resources of a
principality.
The pens of Reed, Warren, and Gilpin, have been successively employed in
sketching the features of this magnificent panorama; but nothing can be
more correct and graphic than the following description by
Fosbroke:--“What a cathedral is among churches, the Wynd Cliff is among
prospects. Like Snowdon, it ought to be visited at sunrise, or seen
through a sunrise-glass called a _Claude_, which affords a sunrise view
at mid-day, without the obscuration of the morning mist. This cliff is
the last grand scene of the Piercefield drama. It is not only
magnificent, but so novel, that it excites an involuntary start of
astonishment; and so sublime, that it elevates the mind into
instantaneous rapture. The parts consist of a most uncommon combination
of wood, rock, water, sky, and plain--of height and abyss--of rough and
smooth--of recess and projection--of fine landscapes near, and excellent
prospective afar,--all melting into each other, and grouping into such
capricious lines, that, although it may find a counterpart in tropic
climes, it is, in regard to England, probably unique. The spectator
stands upon the edge of a precipice, the depth of which is awful to
contemplate, with the river winding at his feet. The right screen is
Piercefield ridge, richly wooded; the left is a belt of rocks, over
which, northward, appears the Severn, with the fine shores between
Thornbury and Bristol, rising behind each other in admirable swells,
which unite in most graceful curves. The first foreground appears to
the eye like a view from the clouds to the earth, and the rich contrast
of green meadows to wild forest scenery,--the farm of Llancaut, clasped
in the arms of the winding river, backed by hanging wood and rock. The
further horn of the crescent tapers off into a craggy informal mole,
over which the eye passes to a second bay; this terminates in Chepstow
Castle, the town and rocks beyond all mellowed down by distance, into
that fine hazy indistinctness which makes even deformities combine into
harmony with the picture.”[32]
An observatory, the guide informed us, was intended some years since to
have crowned this noble eminence, and a subscription was got up for the
purpose; but some difference having arisen between the projectors of the
scheme and the proprietor of the land, it was dropped. It was suggested
by a local writer, that a few Doric columns with architraves, however
rude, would have had an imposing effect on the summit of the Wynd Cliff,
and reminded the classic traveller of the ruined temple of Minerva on
the Sunium promontory. “It might,” he says, “be partially immersed in
wood; while, in the native rock, niches might be hollowed out; and on a
tablet, at the finest point of view, the following words should be
inscribed:--VALENTINE MORRIS[33] _introduced these sublime scenes to
public view. To him be honour: to_ GOD _praise_.”[34] This is concise
and classical; but it is reserved probably for another generation to
witness the completion of the design.
The whole scene, from this point to the Abbey of Tinterne, presents an
uninterrupted combination of picturesque and romantic features. Above
are hanging cliffs, richly clothed in variegated woods, perfumed with
flowers, irrigated by murmuring rivulets, fountains, and cascades, and
rendered vocal by the songs of birds. These woody solitudes are the
annual resort of nightingales, whose note is familiar to every late and
early tourist, who with slow and lingering step measures his leafy way
between Chepstow and Tinterne--unable to decide at what point of the
road there is the richest concentration of scenery. It is, indeed, a
sylvan avenue of vast and variegated beauty, reminding us of the softer
features of Helvetian landscape.
Far below, and seen only at intervals through its thick curtain of
foliage, the classic Vaga continues its winding course. Here basking in
sunshine, there sweeping along under shadowy cliffs--now expanding its
waters over a broad channel, or rushing through deep ravines, it is
often enlivened by boats laden with produce, or visitors in
pleasure-barges, who make the “descent of the Wye,” as, in former days,
pilgrims made that of the Rhine and Danube; for the boats that perform
the trip from Ross to Chepstow, make, in general, but one voyage, and
are otherwise employed or broken up at its conclusion--
Facilis descensus Averni--
Sed revocare gradum.
It is but recently, says a periodical authority, that the Wye has become
at all frequented on account of its scenery. About the middle of last
century, the Rev. Dr. Egerton, afterwards Bishop of Durham, was collated
by his father to the rectory of Ross, in which pleasant town, situated
on the left bank of the river, and just at the point where its beautiful
scenery begins, the worthy doctor resided nearly thirty years. He was a
man of taste, and had a lively enjoyment of the pleasures of society
amidst the beautiful scenery of his neighbourhood. His chief delight was
to invite his friends and connections, who were persons of high rank, to
pay him summer visits at Ross, and then to take them down the Wye--
“Pleased Vaga echoing through its winding bounds,”--
which, as well as the town of Ross, had derived a new interest from the
lines of Pope. For this purpose, we are told, Dr. Egerton built a
pleasure-boat; and, year after year, excursions were made, until it
became fashionable in a certain high class of society to visit the Wye.
But when the rector of Ross was consecrated to the see of Durham, his
pleasure-boat, like that of the Doges of Venice and Genoa, was suffered
to rot at anchor; and with no successor of similar means and taste to
follow his example, excursions on the Wye became unfrequent, because no
longer fashionable. Yet the beauties of the scenery once explored,
became gradually more attractive; and some pilgrim of Nature, deviating
now and then from the beaten track, spoke and sang of its beauties,
until, having again caught the public ear, it was admitted that we had a
“Rhine” within our own borders--with no vineyards and fewer castles, but
with a luxuriance of scenery peculiarly its own, and with remains of
feudal and monastic grandeur which no description could exaggerate. Mr.
Whately, a writer on landscape gardening, and an exquisite critic, first
directed attention to the new weir at Tinterne Abbey, and one or two
other scenes on its banks; and, in 1770, the Wye was visited by William
Gilpin, who did good service to taste and the lovers of nature by
publishing his tour. The same year, a greater name connected itself with
the Wye--for it was visited by the immortal author of the “Elegy in a
Country Churchyard.” “My last summer’s tour,” says Gray, in one of his
admirable letters to Dr. Wharton, “was through Worcestershire,
Gloucestershire, Monmouthshire, Herefordshire, and Shropshire--five of
the most beautiful counties in the kingdom. The very principal sight and
capital feature of my journey was the river Wye, which I descended in a
boat for nearly forty miles, from Ross to Chepstow. Its banks are a
succession of nameless beauties.”[35] The testimony thus bequeathed to
it by the illustrious Gray, has been confirmed and repeated by
Wordsworth, while other kindred spirits, following each other in the
same track, have sacrificed to Nature at the same altar, and recorded
their admiration in immortal song:--
... “Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
“How oft,
In darkness, and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight, when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer through the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!”
WORDSWORTH, _July 13, 1798_.
* * * * *
AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to in the preceding
article:--Dugdale’s Monasticon.--Baronage.--Camden’s
Britannia.--Leland’s Itinerary.--County History.--Local Guides:
Heath.--Wood.--De la Beche.--Williams.--Thomas.--Roscoe.--Burke’s
Peerage and Commoners.--Chronicles.--Giraldus Cambrensis.--William
of Worcester.--History of the Commonwealth.--Life of
Cromwell.--Notes by Correspondents.--MS. Tour on the Wye, 1848;
with other sources, which will be found enumerated in the article
upon _Tinterne Abbey_.
[Illustration]
[Illustration] TINTERNE ABBEY.
“There are some, I hear, who take it ill that I mention monasteries
and their founders; I am sorry to hear it. But, not to give them
any just offence, let them be angry if they will. Perhaps they
would have it forgotten that our ancestors were, and we are,
Christians; since there never were more certain indications and
glorious monuments, of Christian piety than these.”--CAMDEN’S
_Britannia, Pref. Ages of Faith_, Book xi.
[Illustration: T]he Abbey of Tinterne, though one of the oldest in
England, makes no conspicuous figure in its history, a proof that its
abbots were neither bold nor ambitious of distinction, but devoted to
the peaceful and retiring duties of their office. We do not find that
the secluded Tinterne was ever the scene of any rebellious outbreak, or
the refuge of any notorious criminal. From age to age, the bell that
summoned to daily matins and vespers was cheerfully obeyed; and all they
knew of the great world beyond the encircling hills, was learned,
perhaps, from the daily strangers and pilgrims who took their meal and
night’s lodging in the _hospitium_.
The name of Tinterne, as etymologists inform us, is derived from the
Celtic words _din_, a fortress, and _teyrn_, a sovereign or chief; for
it appears from history, as well as tradition, that a hermitage,
belonging to Theodoric or Teudric, King of Glamorgan, originally
occupied the site of the present abbey; and that the royal hermit,
having resigned the throne to his son Maurice, “led an eremitical life
among the rocks of Dindyrn or Tynterne.” It is also mentioned, as a
remarkable coincidence in history, that two kings, who sought Tinterne
as a temporary place of refuge, only left it to meet violent deaths. The
first was Theodoric, who was slain in battle by the Saxons, under
Ceolwilph, King of Wessex, in the year 600, having been dragged from his
seclusion by his own subjects, in order that he might act once more as
their leader. The next was “the unfortunate King Edward,[36] who fled
from the pursuit of his queen,” Isabella. The Welsh monarch is said to
have routed the Saxons at Mathern, near Chepstow, where his body was
buried. Bishop Godwin says, that he there saw his remains in a stone
coffin; and on the skull, after the lapse of nearly a thousand years,
the wound of which he died was conspicuous--thus verifying the tradition
as to the place and manner of his death.
Nothing could be more happily chosen for the seat of a religious
community, than the beautiful valley of which these ruins are the
unrivalled ornament. It would be difficult to picture, even with the aid
of a fertile imagination, scenes more fitted to cherish devout feelings;
to instruct us, from the tranquil bosom of Nature, to look up to
Nature’s God; and in the exclusion of the busy world, to feel
aspirations of gratitude continually ascending towards Him who enriched
the valley with his bounty, and in homage to whom that temple and its
altars were first erected. The latter, as the work of man, and a prey to
neglect and violence, have disappeared or crumbled into ruins; but the
former, as the work of God, has lost nothing of its original beauty. The
woods that curtain the scene; the river that sweeps along under pendent
cliffs of oak; the meadows and orchards that cover and adorn its
banks,--all continue as luxuriant, as copious and abundant, as verdant
and blooming, as on that day when the first pilgrim-father planted his
cross in the soil, and consecrated the spot to the service of God.
It has been often observed--and the observation is confirmed by
fact--that those venerable ascetics, who acted as pioneers in the army
of Christian pilgrims, were no mean judges of soil and climate, and
generally chose some fertile spot upon which nature had bestowed her
special favour. But many instances may be pointed out where they chose
even the inhospitable desert for their habitation; and, by unremitting
labour, transformed that desert into a garden. To the personal example
of those ancient Cistercians, the country is indebted for many
improvements in all branches of cultivation and embellishment. From the
model-garden and orchard of the monastery, hints were communicated and
lessons taught, which found their way into every part of the country,
and carried with them the principal arts of civilization and
improvement. Thus, what first gave a prosperous agriculture to our own
shores, is still in operation upon the barbarous islands of the Pacific,
where Christian missions, religious fraternities, are busily
propagating, by their own example, those domestic and mechanical arts
which are the safest and best introduction to religious knowledge. Of
this happy influence on the minds and habits of the peasantry, none of
the monastic orders was more fully sensible than the Cistercians, whose
laborious but abstemious lives, sumptuous temples, and gorgeous ritual,
threw an air of luxury upon every spot where the Order had once set its
name.[37]
From the shadowy woods which shelter and encompass it, Tinterne may be
justly denominated the _Vallis umbrosa_ of Monmouth; but the fertility
of the soil, and solemn retirement of the scene, so desirable for a
great sanctuary in the “Ages of Faith,” had an immense advantage in the
noble and navigable river which formed the channel of communication
between the interior and the sea; and, like an artery supplying
nutriment to the system, brought its supplies of provision or treasure
to the very gate of the abbey. And many a goodly cargo of corn from
Hereford, and wine from Normandy, has been disembarked at that old pier,
where the abbot’s galley has degenerated into a clumsy ferryboat, with
old Richard Tamplin, the ferryman, for its commander.
From ancient historical sources, which treat of the origin, progress,
and dissolution of this abbey, we select the following materials:--The
founder was Walter de Clare, a name famous in the annals of chivalry and
church-building. The first stone was laid in the thirty-first year of
the twelfth century; but more than a century and a half elapsed before
its completion. In those days churches were the work of generations; and
it was rarely, indeed, that the founder lived to witness the fulfilment
of his vow. “These all died in faith.” In 1287, we are told the White
Friars took possession of the edifice consecrated to the Blessed
Virgin,[38] and commenced those hallowed services which the Eighth
Henry, by his _sic volo_, was destined to silence. These services,
however, had lasted for centuries; and who shall say, during the lapse
of barbarous times, how much crime was prevented, how much good
effected, by those holy men. Shut out from the haunts and habits of
secular life, they exercised their spiritual functions, we may
charitably believe, in a manner that drew many penitents to their altar;
and, in the midst of wars and tumults, displayed the sacred banner of
peace, and published the doctrine of salvation. Their record is on high.
And, in justice to the Cistercians, it must be confessed, that if less
learned, they were more exemplary, and not more worldly, than some other
fraternities of higher pretensions. They exercised and patronised
agriculture; and planting themselves, as the rule directed, in the
depths of forests, or on desert heaths, they drew from the earth such
sustenance as it would yield to the hand of labour; and trusted to those
who sought their spiritual aid and counsel, for the means of building
and embellishing their altars.
[Illustration]
The order of Cistercians, as the reader is aware, made its appearance in
England about the year 1128. In imitation of CHRIST and his twelve
Apostles, the brotherhood was limited to twelve, with an abbot at their
head, according to the rule of the Founder:--“Et sicut ille monasteria
constructa, per _duodecim_ monachos adjuncto patre disponebat, sic se
acturos confirmabant.”--_Mon. Ang._ iv. 699. Their first establishment
in England was at Waverley, in Surrey; and in the course of time, their
numbers had so multiplied, that, shortly before the dissolution of
religious houses, they had seventy-five monasteries, and twenty-six
nunneries in this country. Their patriarch was St. Robert, Abbot of
Molesme, a Benedictine monastery in the bishopric of Langres. This holy
man becoming alarmed at the gradual decay of vital religion among the
brotherhood, and their wilful neglect of the rules instituted by their
founder, adopted measures for the immediate reformation of the order.
Having obtained the Pope’s sanction in support of his design, he chose
twenty-one of the brethren, and retiring from Molesme to the
neighbourhood of Chalons-sur-Saone, took up his abode in the
wilderness[39] of Citeaux; where, under the protection of Otho, Duke of
Burgundy, and the Bishop of Chalons, he laid the foundation of a
religious house, in which the rules of St. Benedict were to be strictly
enforced, and the character of his followers restored. But the wisdom
and piety of Robert having introduced several improvements into the
rules of St. Benedict, the brotherhood began to present features so
distinct from the parent establishment, that, on the return of St.
Robert to Molesme, his successor, Albericus, obtained a charter from the
Pope, constituting the monks of Citeaux into an independent order--that
of Cistercians, or Whitefriars. Their rules were positive and stringent;
they involved the surrender of all secular affairs into the hands of lay
brothers, so that their lives and labours might be exclusively devoted
to the exercise of charity and the service of the altar. In their choice
of localities for the establishment of new houses, they were enjoined,
as already observed, to avoid cities, and go forth into the wilderness.
This was favourable to pilgrimages; and with the fruits of these, and
benefactions from all classes, what they had found a desert on their
arrival, was speedily converted by labour and industry into a garden;
and what was at first only a cell or chapel, was gradually extended into
a church and abbey. The revenue of the order was divided into four
parts--to the bishop, a fourth; to the priests, a fourth; to the
exercise of hospitality, a fourth; and another fourth for the support of
widows and orphans, the relief of the sick, and the repairs of churches
and cloisters. And inasmuch as they could not find, either in the life
or rule of St. Benedict,[40] that their founder had possessed any
churches, or altars, or ovens, or mills, or towns, or serfs; or that any
woman was ever permitted to enter his monastery, or any dead to be
buried there, except his sister; they therefore renounced all these
things: “Ecce hujus seculi divitiis spretis cœperunt novi milites
Christi cum paupere Christo pauperes inter se tractare, quo ingenio, quo
artificio, quo se exercitio in hac vita se hospitesque divites et
pauperes supervenientes quos ut Christum suscipere præcipit regula
sustentarent.” For a time the Cistercians continued in exemplary
observance of their rules: poverty and humility walked hand in hand;
but, in proportion as their revenues increased, their discipline began
to relax; a taste for luxury[41] succeeded; and whoever has visited
their splendid abbeys abroad, will readily confess that, while
professing abstinence and self-denial, they were lodged like princes,
and like princes shared in the vanities and pleasures of the world.
Their ruling passion was said to be avarice; but if they amassed riches,
they spent them with a princely liberality; and their buildings, in this
and other countries, present some of the finest specimens of taste ever
raised by the hand of man.[42]
Cistercians were Benedictines, according to the _letter_ of the rule,
without mitigation.[43] Their peculiarities are thus described in
Dugdale’s Warwickshire:[44]--“First, for their habits, they wear no
leather or linen, nor indeed any fine woollen cloth; neither, except it
be on a journey, do they put on any breeches, and then, after their
return, deliver them fair washed. Having two coats with cowls, in winter
time they are not to augment, but in summer, if they choose, they may
lessen them; in which habit they are to sleep, and after matins not to
return to their beds. For prayers, the hour of _Prime_, they so
conclude, that before the _Lauda_ it may be daybreak, strictly observing
their rule, that not one iota or tittle of their service is omitted.
Immediately after Lauda, they sing the Prime; and after Prime, they go
out performing their appointed hours in work. What is to be done in the
day, they act by daylight; for none of them, except he be sick, is to be
absent from his diurnal hours or Complinæ. When the Compline is
finished, the steward of the house and he that hath charge of the guests
go forth, but with great care of silence serve them.
For _diet_, “the Abbot assumes no more liberty to himself than any of
his convent, everywhere being present with them, and taking care of his
flock, except at meat, in regard his talk is always with the strangers
and poor people. Nevertheless, when he eats, he is abstemious of talk or
any dainty fare; nor hath he or any of them ever above two dishes of
meat; neither do they eat of fat or flesh, except in case of sickness;
and, from the _ides_ of September till Easter, they eat no more than
_once_ a day, except on Sunday, and not even on festivals.
“Out of the precincts of their cloyster they go not but to work; neither
there nor anywhere do they discourse with any but the abbot or prior.
They unweariedly continue their canonical hours, not piecing any service
to another, except the _vigils_ for the deceased. Their manual labour
was as follows: In summer, after Chapter, which followed Prime, they
worked till Tierce; and, after Nones, till Vespers. In winter, from
after Mass till Nones, and even to Vespers, during Lent. In harvest,
when they went to work in the farms, they said Tierce and the conventual
Mass immediately after Prime, that nothing might hinder their work for
the rest of the morning; and often they said divine service in their
places where they were at work, and at the same hours as those at home
celebrated in the church.[45]
“They observe the office of St. Ambrose, so far as they can have perfect
knowledge thereof from Millain; and, taking care of strangers and sick
people, do devise extraordinary afflictions for their own bodies, to the
intent their souls may be advantaged.” Of the same Order--
Hospinian says--“They allowed to candidates a year’s probation, but no
reception to fugitives after the third time. All fasts were observed
according to the rule: to visitors prostration was enjoined, with
washing of feet. At the Abbot’s table sat the guests and pilgrims: they
laboured more than the rule required: delicate habits were exploded:
obsolete and primitive fervour was diligently revived and practised. But
of this powerful order, avarice was the besetting vice: they were great
dealers in wool, generally very ignorant, and, in fact, farmers rather
than monks.”[46] The best account of this brotherhood, as Fosbroke has
told us, is to be found in the _Usus Cisterciensium_; but of their
habits and ceremonies further notice will be found when we come to treat
of the more opulent houses. Guyot le Provins, first a minstrel, then a
monk, has thus satirized them in a poem, which he called a _bible_, or,
more properly, libel. The Cistercian “abbots and cellarers have ready
money, eat large fish, drink good wine, and send to the refectory, for
those who do the work, the very worst. I have seen these monks,” he
affirms, “put pig-sties in churchyards, and stables for asses in
chapels. They seize the cottages of the poor, and reduce them to
beggary.”--With this brief account of the Order, we return to the
subjects selected for illustration.
In a historical sketch, by the late Archdeacon Coxe, the ruins of
Tinterne Abbey are thus described, and his description is at once
accurate and graphic:--
“We stopped to examine the rich architecture of the west front; but the
door being suddenly opened, the inside perspective of the church called
forth an instantaneous burst of admiration, and filled us with delight,
such as I scarcely ever before experienced on a similar occasion. The
eye passes rapidly along a range of elegant Gothic pillars, and,
glancing under the sublime arches which once supported the tower, fixes
itself on the splendid relics of the eastern window--the grand
termination of the choir.
“From the length of the nave, the height of the walls, the aspiring form
of the pointed arches, and the size of the east window, which closes the
perspective, the first impressions are those of grandeur and sublimity.
But as these emotions subside, and we descend from the contemplation of
the whole to the examination of the parts, we are no less struck with
the regularity of the plan, the lightness of the architecture, and the
delicacy of the ornaments. We feel that elegance, no less than grandeur,
is its characteristic, and that the whole is a combination of the
beautiful and the sublime. The church, constructed in the shape of a
cathedral, is an excellent specimen of Gothic architecture in its
purity. The roof has long since fallen in, and the whole ruin is thus
thrown open to the sky; but the shell is entire: all the pillars are
standing, except those which divided the nave from the northern aisle,
and their situation is marked by the remains of their bases. The four
lofty arches which supported the tower, spring high in the air, reduced
to narrow rims of stone, yet still preserving their original form. The
arches and pillars of the transepts are complete: the shapes of all the
windows may yet be discriminated; the frame of the west window is in
perfect preservation, the design of the tracery is extremely elegant,
and, when decorated with painted glass, must have produced a gorgeous
effect. The general form of the east window is also entire, but its
frame is much dilapidated. It occupies the whole breadth of the choir,
and is divided into two large and equal compartments by a slender shaft,
not less than fifty feet in height, with an appearance of singular
lightness, which, in particular points of view, seems as if suspended in
the air. To these decorations of art, nature has added her own
ornaments. Some of the windows are wholly obscured, others partially
shaded, with tufts of ivy, or edged with lighter foliage:
[Illustration:
_W.H. Bartlett_ _A. Willmore_
THE WESTERN WINDOW.
Tintern.]
the tendrils creep along the walls, wind round the pillars, wreath the
capitals, or, hanging down in clusters, obscure the space beneath. But
instead of dilapidated fragments, overspread with weeds and choked with
brambles, the floor is covered with a smooth verdant turf, which, by
keeping the original level of the church, exhibits the beauty of its
proportions, heightens the effect of the gray stone, gives relief to the
clustered pillars, and affords an easy access to every part. Ornamented
fragments of the roof, remains of cornices and columns, rich pieces of
sculpture, carved stones and mutilated figures of monks and warriors,
whose ashes repose within these walls, are scattered on the green sward,
and contrast present desolation with former splendour.”
Although the exterior appearance of these ruins is not equal to the
inside view, yet in some positions--particularly to the east--they
present themselves with considerable effect. From a point on its left
bank, and about half a mile down the river, the ruins assume a new
character; and seeming to occupy a gentle eminence, impend over the
river without the intervention of a single cottage to intercept the
view. “The grand east window, wholly covered with shrubs, and
half-mantled with ivy, rises like the portal of a majestic edifice
embowered in wood. Through this opening, and along the vista of the
church, the clusters of ivy, which twine round the pillars or hang
suspended from the arches, resemble tufts of trees; while the thick
mantle of foliage, seen through the tracery of the west window,[47]
forms a continuation of the perspective, and appears like an
interminable forest.”
The Abbey is a cruciform structure, built, it is said, after the model
of Salisbury Cathedral,[48] consisting of a nave, north and south
aisles, transepts, and choir. Its length from east to west is two
hundred and twenty-eight feet, and from north to south, at the
transepts, one hundred and fifty feet. The nave and choir are
thirty-seven feet in breadth; the height of the central arch is seventy
feet, of the smaller arches thirty feet; of the east window sixty-four
feet, and of the west window forty-two feet. The total area originally
enclosed by the walls of the abbey is said to have been thirty-four
acres.
The exterior of the western front is singularly striking; but, on
entering, as already observed, the scene that represents itself is
indescribably grand and impressive. “When we stood at one end of this
awful ruin,” says Gilpin, “the elements of earth and air its only
covering and pavement, and the grand and
[Illustration: VIEW FROM ENTRANCE.]
venerable remains which terminated both, perfect enough to form the
perspective, yet broken enough to destroy the regularity, the eye was
above measure delighted with the beauty, the grandeur, the novelty of
the scene.”
The inner walls of the church are nearly entire; most of the elegant and
massive columns, as already noticed, which separated the nave from the
south aisle are yet standing; and the four lofty and magnificent arches
which formerly supported the central tower are nearly perfect. The
columns that divided the nave from the north aisle have fallen; but
their bases still occupy the ground, showing their number, shape, and
dimensions.
Windows.--The magnificent windows are little altered by time: and though
somewhat obscured by a luxuriant and graceful drapery of ivy, the
tendrils of which twine in their tracery, creep along the walls,
encircle the columns, and form natural wreaths around the capitals, the
forms of the principal objects are still so far preserved as to be
easily discriminated. The tracery of the western window, as already
observed, is exquisite; while the eastern window,[49] high and graceful,
and occupying nearly the whole breadth of the choir, with its slender
umbilical shaft rising to a height of fifty feet, and diverging at the
top into rich flowery traces, has quite a magical effect. The other
windows, though less ornamented, are all in character, and have the same
elegant design and finish.[50]
The floor, originally covered with encaustic tiles, is now enveloped in
a thick smooth matting of grass, trimmed like a bowling-green, and here
and there spotted with little heaps of mutilated sculpture, and striped
with flat tombstones--all thrown open to the winds of heaven.
[Illustration]
The effigy of a knight in chain armour, a _pavache_ shield, and crossed
legs, is supposed to be that of Strongbow, first Earl of Pembroke,
already noticed, but more probably that of Roger Bigod, as Strongbow is
historically known to have been buried in Dublin. This interesting
relic, that had escaped the ravages of time and the hostile spirit of
resolution, was at last, as Mr. Thomas informs us, wilfully mutilated by
a native of the village.[51]
The next relic is a group of the Madonna and Child, much disfigured, but
with sufficient evidence of its having been the work of a skilful
artist. Mr. Bartlett considered it to be of very graceful design and
execution.
Near the eastern window is the sculptured head of a friar, with the
tonsure, but otherwise quite disfigured.
In the centre, between the transepts, is another broad stone slab,
supposed to cover the ashes of the founder; but the fall of the tower,
and the continual dropping of loosened fragments--until the ruin became
an object of interest and consideration--have not left one of the
sepulchral tablets or inscriptions entire. Many fragments may be
discovered among the rubbish, but to reunite the scattered members were
a very hopeless task. In the southern aisle is the only sepulchral
antiquity that bears a legible inscription. It is elaborately carved in
black or slate marble, with a cross finely sculptured on its surface
longitudinally, and near its base three trouts,[52] so entertwined as to
form the symbolic triangle, with the figure of a salmon on the right and
left. The inscription, in black letter, along the top of the cross, is
simple--
“Hic jacet humatus Johann: Willino.”
The sepulchral brasses have all disappeared. For a century and more
after the Dissolution, the Abbey appears to have been abandoned to every
species of wilful depredators, who defaced the altars, ransacked the
graves, and carried off without molestation whatever was curious or
portable.
[Illustration]
In the same aisle, close to the wall, and now preserved with great care,
is the lately-discovered pavement of encaustic tiles, with escutcheons
of the ancient Clare and Bigod families intertwined. The figures on
these coloured tiles represent flowers, animals, and knights in full
career at a tournament. This pavement was probably that of a private
altar, belonging to the founder, or benefactor of the Abbey. In the
process of clearing away the vast accumulation of rubbish, many of the
ancient memorials were removed in fragments; and of the few that remain,
not one, probably, now covers the dust over which it was originally
placed.
Leaving the grassy lawn-like floor of the Abbey, the ascent to the top
is still practicable by means of a spiral staircase in an angle of the
northern transept. Those who conclude their survey of the ruins by this
experiment, will be amply rewarded for any fatigue it may occasion. At
the time of our visit, however, in the month of August last year, some
unexpected obstacle prevented the custodier from gratifying our
curiosity by a view from the summit: for the steps were either so unsafe
or deficient, as to make the experiment rather hazardous.
Mr. Thomas, from whose notes we have already quoted, and whose late
professional residence near the Abbey rendered him familiar with all its
minutest features, tells us that the prospect it commands is highly
picturesque; and in turning from the outward landscape, to look down
into the cloistered depths below, the view of clustering pillars, lofty
arches, mullioned windows, and flowing tracery, is indescribably grand
and impressive.
The broken summit of the walls, throughout its whole outline, is adorned
with a profusion of shrubs and flowers, that, with interlacing leaves
and tendrils, cover the mouldering coping like a fragrant mantle. Where
the labour of man appears to decay, nature has put forth her vigour and
beauty, and transformed those roofless walls into a wild botanic garden.
Here, and amidst the débris immediately adjoining, Mr. Thomas[53] found
a luxuriant crop of shrubs and flowers, all of different families, some
of them rare, and in number between forty and fifty.
Reed, in his ‘Remains,’ gives the following eloquent and highly poetical
description of the Abbey by moonlight:--“The great tree or vegetable
rock, or emperor of the oaks, if you please, before which I bowed with a
sort of reverence in the fields of Tinterne, and which for so many ages
has borne all the blasts and bolts of heaven, I should deem it a
gratification of a superior kind to approach again with an ‘unsandalled
foot,’ to pay the same homage, and to kindle with the same devotion. But
I should find amidst the magnificent ruins of the adjoining Abbey,
something of a sublime cast, to interest and give pregnancy to my
feelings. I must be alone. My mind must be calm and pensive. It must be
midnight. The moon, half-veiled in clouds, must be just emerging from
behind the neighbouring hills. All must be silent, except the wind
gently rustling among the ivy of the ruins; the river lulling, by its
faint murmurings, its guardian genius to repose; and the owl, whose
funereal shriek would some time die along the walls in mysterious
echoes. I should then invoke the ghosts of the Abbey; and Fancy, with
one stroke of her magic wand, would rouse them from their dusty beds,
and lead them into the centre of the ruin. I should approach their
shadowy existences with reverence; making inquiries respecting the
customs, and manners, and genius, and fate of antiquity--desire to have
a glimpse of the destiny of future ages, and enter upon conversations
which would be too sacred and even dangerous to communicate.” The lines
by Sir Walter Scott, on “Melrose Abbey by Moonlight,” are equally
descriptive of Tinterne.[54]
It has been well observed, that, as the Abbey of Tinterne is the most
beautiful and picturesque of all our Gothic monuments, so is the
situation one of the most sequestered and delightful. One more abounding
in that peculiar kind of scenery which excites the mingled sensations of
content, religion, and enthusiasm, it is impossible to behold. There,
every arch infuses, as it were, a solemn energy into inanimate nature; a
sublime antiquity breathes mildly in the heart; and the soul, pure and
passionless, appears susceptible of that state of tranquillity which is
the perfection of every earthly wish.[55] By the late Sir C. Colt Hoare,
a man of taste and many travelled acquirements, this “seat of devotion,
solitude, and desolation,” is pronounced as surpassing every other ruin
he had seen in England or in Wales. Captain Barber, whose “Tour” is now
very scarce, was so charmed with the scene, that he locked himself up in
the Abbey, and employed several hours in delineating its picturesque
features.
From the general aspect of this venerable pile--a _coup d’œil_ that
never fails to captivate the stranger--we proceed to a few detached
features of the picture, all more or less interesting as relics of men,
and times, that have long passed away.
[Illustration]
Walter de Clare, the founder, was grandson of Osbert, Lord of Tudenham
and Wollaston, by gift of William the Conqueror.[56] He departed this
life on the 10th of March, 1139, and dying without issue, was succeeded
by his brother, Gilbert[57] de Clare, who survived him nine years, and
dying on the 6th of January, 1148, was buried in the church of
Tinterne. This Gilbert de Clare left two sons by his wife Elizabeth,
daughter of Walleran, Earl of Melent--Richard, surnamed Strongbow, and
Baldwin,[58] who, “fighting stoutly on the part of King Stephen, at the
battle of Lincoln, was there taken prisoner.” Richard was one of the
witnesses to that “solemn accorde,” made in 1153, between King Stephen,
and Henry, Duke of Normandy, whereby the latter was to succeed to the
crown of England after the king’s demise. In the year 1170 [16 Henry
II.], the said Richard, Earl of Striguil or Pembroke, being stript of
his paternal inheritance by King Henry II., invaded Ireland, and
captured the cities of Dublin and Waterford. Soon after this event, when
“the king, who was then at Argentine, was consulting with his nobles
about an expedition into that realm; certain messengers from this earl
being present, offered, on the part of Richard, the above-named cities,
with all the castles which he had there captured, at the death of
Dermot, king of Dublin, whose daughter and heiress he had married.” With
this conciliatory offer, King Henry was so well pleased, that he
restored to him all his lands, both in England and Normandy, and freely
granted that he should enjoy all those in Ireland which he had received
in dowery with his wife, constituting him at the same time constable or
governor of that realm, and “thereupon passing thither, subdued it
wholly without any considerable resistance.”
By the daughter of the said King of Dublin or Leinster, this last earl
of his family, Richard Strongbow[59] left an only child, Isabel, who
remained in ward fourteen years to the king, and was then given in
marriage to William Marshall, who thereupon became Earl of Pembroke,
Lord of Striguil, or Chepstow, and took possession of Leinster, with all
the inheritance of the said Strongbow; and being thus advanced to that
honour, he bore the royal sceptre of gold, with the cross on the head of
it, at the solemn coronation of King Richard I.[60] The history of this
family is given at full length in the Monasticon and Baronage of
England, but it is much too diffuse for our purpose. William Marshall,
who, by his marriage with Isabel, only child of Richard de Clare, came
into possession of his estates and titles, was a great benefactor to the
church; he built and endowed many religious houses both in England and
Ireland; and having, by his last will and testament, constituted the
abbot of St. Augustine’s at Bristol, and Henry Fitzgerald, his
executors, he departed this life at Caversham, in the third of Henry II.
Being thence carried to Reading, his body was received in solemn
procession by the monks of the abbey, and placed in their choir, whilst
mass was celebrated for him. It was then taken to Westminster, where
the solemnity was again performed, and on Ascension-day it was consigned
to the earth[61] with the following epitaph:--
Sum qui Saturnum sibi sensit Hibernia: Solem
Anglia; Mercurium Normannia; Gallia Martem.
These complimentary lines, meant to record his virtues, are
characteristic of the times when heathen mythology was so frequently
called in to assist in the eulogy of some great champion or benefactor
of the Christian church. He certainly appears to have merited all that
could be said of him as a great mover and promoter of monastic
fraternities--especially the Cistercians; and in the same strain,
Matthew of Paris has recorded that this mighty earl was a severe tamer
of the Irish, a great favourer of the English, achieved much in
Normandy, and was an invincible soldier in France--“Miles strenuissimus,
ac per orbem nominatissimus.”[62] But of the five sons whom he left
behind, with the fair and flattering prospect that his name and titles
would descend through many generations, all died prematurely and without
issue. This deplorable fact was much commented upon at the time:--“Some
did attribute it to God’s especial judgment, by reason that, when the
said William, first earl, was a great commander in Ireland, and,
according to the practice of soldiers, exercised such cruelties of fire
and sword as usually accompany that sort of life, he took away by
violence two fair manors from a reverend bishop there, and possessed
himself of them as the acquisition of war; and that the bishop, after
frequent and earnest entreaties for their restitution, without any
effect, did thereupon pronounce the sentence of excommunication against
him for the fact, which he the earl contemned.” The bishop,[63] having
proceeded to London, made his grievous wrong known to the king, showing
wherefore he had excommunicated the said earl. “Whereupon the king, then
very pensive, desired the bishop that he should go to his grave and
absolve him, and _then_ he would satisfy his desire. Whereupon the
bishop went, and the king with him, and spoke as followeth: ‘O William!
who liest here buried, and shackled with the fetters of excommunication,
if these lands which thou most injuriously didst take from my church, be
restored with full satisfaction, either by the king or any of thy
kindred or friends, I _then_ absolve thee: otherwise, I ratify that
sentence to this end, that, being wrapt up with thy sins, thou mayest
remain condemned in hell.’”
The king, who was “much displeased at these his expressions, blamed him
for his ghostly rigour;” but anxious to remove the curse from the
illustrious defunct, he sent private messages to the heir and his
brothers, advising them in a friendly manner to come to terms with the
bishop, and thus “in mercy release their father’s soul.” But the
brothers were obstinate; they would not restore even an acre of bog, nor
a stock of timber; observing that, “as the old doting bishop hath
pronounced the sentence unjustly, the curse will fall upon himself. For
my part,” quoth the heir, “I will never lessen my patrimony descended to
me by inheritance.” The king being still under tutelage, and fearing the
resentment of so powerful a family, “forbore to displease them.” But the
bishop, hearing thereof, was much grieved, taking more offence at their
contumacy, than of the injury first done by their father; and going to
the king, he said, “Sir, what I have spoken, I have spoken; and what I
have written is not to be reversed: the sentence therefore must stand;
the punishment of evil-doers is from God; and, therefore, the curse
which the Psalmist hath written, shall come upon this earl, of whom I do
thus complain. His name shall be _rooted out in one generation_, and his
sons shall be deprived of the blessing--_increase and multiply_. Some of
them shall die a miserable death, and their inheritance shall be
scattered. And this, O king, thou shalt behold in thine own lifetime,
yea, in thy flourishing youth.”
Having spoken “thus much in the bitterness of his spirit, the bishop
departed thence, leaving the defunct earl enthralled with that curse.
Whereupon it happened that, in a few years after, all his sons died
without issue.”[64]
William, his successor, who, “in his father’s lifetime, had taken part
with the barons, then in arms against the king, was one of those betwixt
whom and the King those covenants were made, whereby the government of
the realm was placed in xxv. of them, and the city of London thereupon
put into their hands. Yea, so great a confidant was he of that
rebellious pack, that they constituted him to be one of those xxv., for
which respect amongst _them_ he underwent the sentence of
excommunication by the Pope. But upon the death of King John, which
happened soon after, his noble father reduced him to obedience; so that
he became loyal to King Henry the Third, and thereupon had a grant of
the lands of Saier de Quinci, Earl of Winchester, and David, Earl of
Huntingdon, two of those great rebels, for his support in the king’s
service.”
A few years after this, “whilst he, the said William Marshall, was in
Ireland, Leoline, Prince of Wales, took two of his castles; and having
cut off the heads of those whom he found therein, manned them with his
own soldiers. But when tidings thereof came to him, he soon returned
into Wales; and having, with a great power, won them again, took the
like revenge upon the Welsh: and thinking this not enough, he invaded
the lands of Leoline, and wasted them with fire and sword. Whereupon
Leoline advanced towards him with all his strength, but to little
purpose; for, encountering him in battle, the Marshall totally routed
his whole army, of which to the number of nine thousand were slain and
taken.” This earl married Eleanor, daughter of King John; and dying at
Kilkenny, in 1231, was there buried in the choir of the Mendicant
Friars.[65]
[Illustration]
Richard, his brother and successor, being irritated by the violent
conduct of the king and his ministry, formed an alliance with Llewellyn
ap Jowarth, Prince of Wales, and in 1233 defeated the king’s army at
Grosmont; but with dutiful respect for his sovereign, he fell back with
the Cambrian army before sunrise, to allow his Majesty’s retreat from
the Castle of Gloucester. Henry, not appreciating the generous conduct
of his reluctant foe, resisted this attack; and on the return of the
Lord Marshall to his estates in Ireland, he was treacherously wounded to
death at Kildare,[66] and there buried by the side of his brother
William, whom he had survived only three years.
Gilbert, the third son, married a daughter of Alexander, King of
Scotland, and died in 1242.
Walter Marshall, the fourth son, died at Goodrich Castle, in December,
1245. And--
Anselm, the fifth and last son of this doomed family, died like his
brothers, childless, in the same month of the same year, in the Castle
of Striguil or Chepstow, and was interred with his brother in Tinterne
Abbey.
Of their five sisters, Eve, the youngest, married “William de Braliuse
or Braose,[67] of whose family more hereafter.
The male line in him having thus failed, Maude, their surviving sister,
and heiress to the family possessions, was espoused to Hugh Bigod, Earl
of Norfolk. From this alliance sprang two sons, Hugh and Roger, or
Rudulfus. The younger of whom, Roger, in right of his mother, was
installed lord-marshal of the kingdom, and granted a charter[68] to
Tinterne Abbey, confirming those granted by the Clares and Marshalls,
and adding large possessions to the brotherhood. Maude, on the death of
her husband, Hugh Bigod, married John de Warren, Earl of Surrey; and
departing this life, anno 1248, was buried in the Abbey of Tinterne;
when her four sons--two by each marriage--carried her body into the
choir. To prosecute the descent farther, would far exceed our limits;
but readers who may feel curious to trace the genealogy of the founders,
will find ample details in the Baronage, the Monasticon, and old
chronicles.
Of Earl Roger it is told, that, being “openly reproached by the king as
a traitor, he replied with a stern countenance that he lied; and that
he, Bigod, never was, nor would be a traitor;” adding, “if you do
nothing but what the law warranteth, you can do me no harm.” “Yes,”
quoth the king, “I can thrash your corn and sell it, and so humble you.”
“If you do so,” replied Bigod, “I will send you back the heads of your
thrashers.”
The Hospitium, or guest-chamber, was generally a large room with
columns, like the body of a church, and called _palatium_--the original
meaning of which was a place of short residence. If a visitor came
before dinner to the refectory, notice was given to the refectioner; if
he was too late to dine with the convent, he staid in the _locutorium_,
or parlour, until the refectory was swept, and then was introduced. The
_hosteler_ provided all things fit for Mass for the visitors; and if he
was prevented, any one asked by him sang the mass and hours to them, for
they had divine service as well as the convent. The visitors had meat
and drink at solicitation, and the hosteler was to fetch the viands
according to the rank of the person; all which, however, was accompanied
with the appendage of a “soiled table cloth, very indifferent wine,
grease in the salt, and a clownish servant.” The hospitaler[69] could
not introduce them to the collation before the end of the first verse.
When this was over, he lighted his lantern with which the visitors
waited before the Chapter door. He then introduced them into the
parlour, after which they had refection, and _Complin_ was sung to them.
When the visitors wished to depart before daybreak, or at that time, the
hosteler took the keys of the parlour from the Prior’s bed; but on
Sundays, before _procession_, no one could receive the benediction, or
ceremony of dismission.
[Illustration]
Persons of rank were received with processions and high honours. One of
the great bells was struck three times, to give the monks notice of
assembling in the church to robe themselves. Visitors were allowed to
make a stay of two days and two nights, and on the third day, after
dinner, they were to depart. If by accident a guest could not then go,
the hosteler signified his request to the Abbot, or Prior, for a longer
stay. If in health, he was to be present at Matins, and follow the
convent in everything, unless he had leave to the contrary. Women were
to be received who came with an honourable suite.[70] Particular
attention was paid to the parents of monks, for whom necessaries and
food were to be provided whenever they came to see their
children--especially on the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, wheresoever
they took refection, in the town or house; and they were to be
honourably received on the Vigil.[71]
The Refectory, as described by monastic writers, was a large hall
wainscoted on the north and south sides, and in the west and nether
parts was a long bench of stone, in mason-work, from the cellar-door to
the pantry, or cove-door. It had a dresser in it: above the wainscot
was a large picture of CHRIST, the Virgin Mary, and St. John; but in
most places--and here perhaps--was the Cross or Crucifixion, to which,
on entering the Fratry with washed hands, the monks made obeisance with
their faces to the east. Within the door on the left was an
_Almery_--where stood the grace-cup (the classical αγαθου δαιμονος), out
of which the monks, after grace every day, drank round the table--and
another large one on the right, with smaller within, where stood the
_mazers_, of which each monk had his peculiar one, with a ewer and
basin, which served the Sub-prior to wash his hands in at the table, of
which he sat as chief.[72] At the west end was a loft above the cellar,
ascended by stairs with an iron railing, where the convent and monks
dined together, the Sub-prior sitting at the upper end of the table. At
the south end of the high table, within a glass window-frame, was an
iron desk, ascended by stone steps, with an iron rail, where lay a
Bible, out of which one of the novices read a part in Latin during
dinner. The readers at the table were to give ear to the Prior in case
of error; and if they did not understand his correction, they were to
begin the verse again, even repeatedly, until they comprehended the
Prior’s meaning. When the reader had finished, the master of the novices
rang a silver bell hanging over his head, to call one of them to come to
the high table to say grace; a single stroke of this bell (_skilla_),
signified the conclusion of the lecture or the meal.[73]
[Illustration: H]ospitality, which the monastic rule enjoined upon all
its professors, was faithfully practised by the Cistercians. The
Refectory, as well as the Hospitium, or Guest Hall, of this Abbey,
appears to have been an elegant and capacious chamber, with a vaulted
stone roof supported on Gothic pillars, the massive bases of which still
remain. But as the buildings were long thrown open as a stone quarry,
for the use of the public, the squared and sculptured materials with
which they were built and adorned, were employed for ages in
constructing those shapeless hovels which now cluster, as if in
mockery, around the sacred pile, and show to what base uses in this
changing world, even the masterpieces of art may be applied.
The Dole.--An opening in the wall of the refectory westward, shows the
place where the monk appointed to that duty, administered to the poor
their daily portion of bread and beer. To that door the hungry and the
weary never applied in vain--
Pilgrim, whosoe’er thou art,
Worn with travel, faint with fear,
Halt, or blind, or sick of heart,
Bread and welcome wait thee here.
At the east end of the Refectory was “a neat table, with a screen of
wainscot over it, for the master of the novices, the elects, and
novices, to dine and sup at: two windows opened into the refectory from
the great kitchen, one large for principal days, the other smaller for
ordinary days; and through these the dishes were served. Over against
the door in the cloister was a conduit or lavatory, for the monks to
wash their hands and faces, of a round form, covered with lead, and all
marble, excepting the outer wall, without which they might walk about
the Tower. After the monks had waited a while on the Abbot, they sat
down at two other tables, placed at the sides of the refectory, and had
their service brought in by the novices, who, when the monks had dined,
sat down to their own dinner. Fires in the refectory were ordered from
All-hallows Day to Good-Friday, and the wood was found by the cellarer.
Pinafores or super-tunics, to protect the clothes at dinner, are
mentioned by Lynwood, and occur in foreign consuetudinals. Giraldus
Cambrensis, on dining with the Prior of Canterbury, “noted sixteen
dishes, besides intromels,” or _entremets_; “a superfluous use of signs,
much sending of dishes from the Prior to the attending monks, and from
them to the lower tables;” with “much ridiculous gesticulation in
returning thanks, with much whispering, loose, idle, and licentious
discourse;” herbs brought in but not tasted; numerous kinds of fish,
roasted, boiled, stuffed, fried, eggs, dishes exquisitely cooked with
spices; salted meats to provoke appetite; wines of various kinds;
_pimento_ made of wine, honey, and spices; with claret, mead, and other
beverages. Respecting these, it was not unusual, says Barnard, to see
brought a vessel half full to try the quality and flavour of the wine;
and that, after proof thereof, the monks decided in favour of the
strongest. Superior dinners were always given on the feasts of the
Apostles; but it was not lawful, it seems, to eat the flesh of any
animal nourished on the earth, because this had been cursed by God; but
the curse not extending to air and water, birds were permitted, as
created of the same element as fish. Hence the prohibition of
quadrupeds; but as it was found
[Illustration: _The Refectory._
Tintern Abbey.]
impossible for inland monasteries to have fish enough, to eat flesh
became unavoidable.[74] However, to the great rule all their articles of
food bore relation; namely, bread, beer, soup, beans for soup, all Lent;
oats for gruel, on Thursdays and Saturdays, in that season; flour for
pottage, every day in the same season; fried dishes, _wastels_, or fine
bread for dinner and supper, on certain feasts; _formictæ_, or fine
flour cakes, in Advent, Christmas, against Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and
certain feasts; ‘fat things,’ which appear to have been bacon,[75] were
frequent with the Præmonstratenses; black beans and salt, with the
Clugniacks; general bad fare with the Cistercians. In certain
solemnities, we are told the convent was in the habit of retiring with
the Abbot, leaving a few in the refectory, in order to eat meat
elsewhere; and that they frequently dined in ‘extra-cloister’
apartments, where “they used to invite women (devout nuns, perhaps) to
talk, eat, and drink with them.”[76]
Diet was strictly prescribed; variety of viands was forbidden; flesh was
allowed only to the sick or invalids; fish, eggs, milk, butter, and
cheese, were not to be used on common days, but only on special
occasions, as dainties or “pittances.”[77] None but their guests and the
sick were allowed any other than brown bread; they might use the common
herbs of the country; but pepper and other spices were forbidden.
These observations, quoted from various authorities, apply to the
monastic Orders generally, among whom the regulations of the refectory
appear to have been nearly the same; but that order to which the Abbey
of Tinterne belonged, professed the greatest abstinence, mortified diet,
and abhorrence of all luxuries. To the devout taste of St. Bernard, the
most rigid rules were the most agreeable; and hence he became a
Cistercian, the strictest of the monastic orders in France. At that time
they were but few in number, for, owing to their excessive austerities,
men were discouraged from joining them. Bernard, however, by his
superior genius, his eminent piety, and his ardent zeal, gave to this
Order a permanent lustre and celebrity. At the age of twenty-three, with
more than thirty companions, he entered into the monastery, and was
afterwards appointed Abbot of Clairval. To those noviciates who desired
admission, he used to say--“If ye hasten to those which are within,
dismiss your bodies which ye brought from the world; let the spirit
alone enter here; the flesh profiteth nothing.” “Yet, amidst all these
disagreeable austerities,” says his biographer, “the soul of Bernard was
inwardly taught of God; and as he grew in the divine life, he learned to
correct the harshness and asperities of his sentiments.”
The Cistercian habit, as shown in the preceding woodcut, was a white
robe in the nature of a cassock, with a black scapular and hood. Their
garment was girt with a black girdle of wool; in the choir, they had
over it a white cowl, and over that a hood, with a rochet hanging down,
bound before to the waist, in a point behind to the calf of the leg.
When they went abroad, they wore a cowl and a great hood, all black,
which was also the choir habit.
The Lay Brothers of this Order were clad in a dark colour; their
scapular hung down about a foot in length before, and was rounded at the
bottom. Their hood was like that which the priests wore over their cowl,
excepting the difference of the colour. In the choir they wore a cloak
or mantle, reaching to the ground, and of the same colour as the habit.
The Novices, who were clerks, wore the same habit in the church, but it
was all white; their scapular was not of the same length in all places,
for sometimes it reached only half-way down the thigh, in others to the
midleg, or even to the heels.[78]
The sumptuary regulations extended even to the ornaments of their
churches, and the vestments of the ministers. The altar cloth, the
_alb_, and the service, were to be of plain linen; the stole and
maniple, which were at first of cloth, were allowed afterwards to be of
silk. Palls, capes, dalmatics, and tunics, were forbidden. The crosses
were to be of wood, painted; and it was forbidden to have them made of
carved work, or of silver or gold. The cruets for the service of the
altar, were not to be of gold or silver: the chalice and fistula might
be of silver gilt; the candlesticks were to be iron, and the censers of
iron or copper. Pictures or painted glass were not to be allowed in
their churches; which in all monasteries of this order were dedicated to
God, under the invocation of the Virgin Mary.
[Illustration]
Cistercians, according to the reformed rule, were obliged to perform
their devotions together seven times every twenty-four hours. The
_Nocturnal_, the first of these services, was performed at two o’clock
in the morning; two Matins, or _Prime_, commenced at six o’clock;
_Tierce_, at nine o’clock; the _Sexte_, at twelve o’clock; the _None_,
at three in the afternoon; _Vespers_, at six; and the _Compline_, at
seven o’clock in the evening. As the monks retired to bed at eight,
they had six hours to sleep before the Nocturnal began; and if they
again betook themselves to rest, after that service, it was not
considered any fault or infringement of the rule; but after matins, they
were not permitted to have the same indulgence. At the first stroke of
the convent-bell for prayers, they were to suspend all matters of
business in which they might happen to be engaged at the moment; and
those who copied books, or were employed in any kind of writing--even if
they had begun a text letter--were not allowed to finish it. They were
to fast every day in Lent, till six o’clock in the evening. During
meals, as already mentioned in these pages, the Scriptures were read to
them by one of the brethren, who performed this and other offices in
weekly rotation. After the Compline, all conversation was prohibited,
and they silently retired to rest. The dormitory was a long barrack-like
room, not divided into separate cells, where each monk had his own bed
furnished with a mat, blanket, coverlet, and a pillow which was not to
exceed a foot and a half in length. When any of the fraternity went
abroad, they always walked in couples, so that each might be a check
upon the other, and incite him to edifying thoughts.[79]
At a General Chapter of the Cistercian Order, held in the year 1134, it
was resolved that the rules of St. Benedict regarding diet, clothing,
morals, and divine service, should continue to be strictly observed; and
to these were added many new regulations for the suppression of luxury.
It was directed that their monasteries, as already observed, should be
founded in the most retired and solitary places; that the members of the
Order should provide the necessaries of life by the labour of their
hands. They were allowed, however, to possess lands, rivers, woods,
vineyards, and meadows; with sheep, oxen, horses, and other domestic
animals; but no deer nor bears, nor other animals kept merely[80] for
pleasure. They were forbidden to possess tithes, the advowsons or
revenues of churches, dues of ovens or mills, bond-servants, or even
rents of lands.[81] The reason for these restrictions was, that they
might not live by the labour of others; yet, upon the pretext of
enabling the monks to live in greater retirement and abstraction from
the world, they were allowed to admit into their community a certain
number of lay brothers, called converts, whose office consisted in
managing the secular business of the Convent, including the cultivation
of their lands, in which they were permitted to employ hired servants.
These lay brethren did not take the monastic vow; but in every other
respect they were treated exactly like the professed monks.
With regard to the extension of their order, no convent was allowed to
send forth a colony, unless the community consisted of at least sixty
monks, and held a license, both from the general chapter, and from the
archbishop, or bishop. Each monastery, as we have said, was to consist
of at least twelve monks and their superiors;[82] and before they could
be brought to their new residence, the buildings required for their
immediate accommodation were to be provided; namely, an oratory, a
dormitory, a stranger’s cell, and a porter’s lodge. The books required
for divine service, were also to be got ready. The superior of the new
establishment was bound to pay a visit to the parent monastery once a
year; and the Abbots of all the monasteries of the Cistercian order,
were obliged to attend the General Chapter held annually at
Cisteaux,[83] those only excepted, who were excused by sickness or
distance. Abbots in Scotland, Ireland, and Sicily, were obliged to be
present only every fourth year. In some cases it was even allowed to
send delegates.[84]
[Illustration: P]rofessions.--No person desirous of becoming a monk was
suffered to enter upon his noviciate under fifteen years of age. The
candidate having made his petition to be admitted, was, after four days,
brought before the abbot, and a select number of the monks in the
Chapter-house, where he threw himself down with his face to the ground.
Being asked by the Abbot what he desired, he replied,--“The mercy of God
and yours.” Upon this the Abbot made him stand up, and explained to him
the strictness of the rules, and the self-denial required in keeping
them; after which, he asked him if he was willing to submit to the
restraint they imposed. Upon his replying in the affirmative, the Abbot
admonished him, and when he concluded with these words,--“May GOD finish
the good work which he hath begun in thee;” all who were present said,
_Amen!_ and then the candidate bowed, and retired to the guest-chamber.
A similar ceremony was observed when he was again introduced into the
Chapter-house next day, after having read the rules of the Order. On the
third day, he was admitted into the cell of the novices, and began the
year of his probation; during which he was prepared and instructed for
taking the vows, by a person called the Master of the Novices, who was
usually one of the oldest and most learned of the monks. At the
conclusion of the twelvemonth’s probation, when it was supposed he had
had a sufficient trial of their discipline and manner of life, he was
again formally interrogated; and if he persisted in his request, he was
allowed to make his profession, and become a regular member of the
Order.[85] The following is a copy of the formulary used in English
monasteries on such occasions:--
“The first petycion in the Collogium: ‘Syr, I besyche yow and alle the
Convent for the luffe of God, our Ladye Sanct Marye, Sanct John of
Baptiste, and alle the hoyle cowrte of hevyne, that ye wolde resave me
to lyve and dye here emongs yow, in the state of a monke, a prebendarye
and servant unto alle, to the honour of God, solace to the companye,
prouffet to the place, and helth unto my sawle.’
“The answer unto the examinacyon: ‘Syr, I tryste through the helpe of
God, and your good prayers, to keep alle these thyngs ye have now heyr
rehersede.’
“The first petycion before the profession: ‘Syr, I have beyn heyr now
this twellmonth nere hand, and lovyde be God, me lykes ryght well both
the ordour and the companye. Whereupon I besyche yow, and all the
companye, for the luffe of God, our Ladye Sanct Marye, Sanct John of
Baptiste, and alle the hoyle companye of hevyn, that ye will resave me
unto my profession, at my twellmonth day, according to my petycion which
I made when I was first resaved heyr emongs yow.’”[86]
The Cistercians, much to their honour, took considerable pains to
cultivate and promote learning. The transcribing of books was one of the
principal occupations in all their monasteries. A certain number of the
brotherhood were constantly employed in the Scriptorium, in making
copies of the most esteemed works, to furnish and augment the common
library. None, however, were permitted to write new books, without first
obtaining a license to that effect from the General Chapter. In the
principal monasteries a chronicle was kept, in which the monks recorded,
in Latin, the most remarkable events, both of general and local
interest, that occurred within their knowledge.[87] The chronicle of
Tinterne Abbey, as partly transcribed in the Monasticon, contains copies
of those deeds and charters, by which former rights and privileges were
confirmed, and new benefactions added; but it includes no chronicle of
passing events, public or private.
Many and great were the privileges, franchises, and immunities granted
to this Order in general, by sundry kings and pontiffs; and on some
particular houses were conferred very special favours. The brothers of
the order were exempted from appearing in any court, or at the trial of
any cause whatever, if the distance from the monastery exceeded two
days’ journey. They were exempted from tithes; the ordinary could not
call upon, nor punish them for any crime; neither could their houses be
visited by any one, except their own abbot. Their benefactors, those who
frequented their mills [molendini], as well as their friends and
servants, were all exempted from the ban of excommunication.[88]
Boniface XI. made an effort to relieve them still farther, by exempting
them from the payment of tithes for their lands, though let out to
others; but this was rejected by King Henry IV., who would not permit
the bull for that purpose to be executed. The monks of Tinterne, in
common with their brethren of that order, enjoyed all the privileges and
immunities here named. They were great proficients in the science of
agriculture; and from the skill manifested in the cultivation of the
abbey lands, and in those occupied by their tenants, produced the
happiest effects on that important branch of rural economy.
The Cloister, which is so often described in poetry as the abode of
religious harmony, was nevertheless subject, at times, to all those
unruly passions which in the world engender strife amongst brethren, and
destroy the quiet of secular life. Every monastery contained within its
own walls, those elements of malice and dissension, which it required no
common energy on the part of the abbot to regulate and subdue. Perverse
men, clothed in the robe of meekness, were a constant source of trial to
those patterns of monastic discipline, who laboured to correct and
reform them.[89] Persecution within the cloister existed occasionally
under two forms: men of eminent sanctity suffered it from degenerate
brethren, sometimes, simply on account of their superior justice; and at
others, in consequence of their endeavours to reform them. Sometimes
when the monastery fell under the dominion of an evil superior, the
monks who persevered in sanctity fled from his persecution.[90]
The character of a good Cistercian monk, contrasted with one of an
opposite disposition, is thus drawn:--It happened that the pious Gobert,
a monk of Villars, having to undertake a journey for the arrangement of
certain affairs, set out accompanied by one of the brothers named Peter.
Arriving late in the evening at a town where they were to pass the
night, they were fatigued and exhausted with the labour and heat of the
day; and Peter, causing a table to be spread, drew from the bag he
carried, abundant provisions, and then ordered cups to be served, and
many things made ready for their repast. To the pious Gobert, all this
seemed to be more than necessary, more than was consistent with perfect
moderation, and his conscience silently accused him of yielding too
readily to the force of temptation. But after both had supped, he did
not venture to give utterance to the compunctious feelings that were
then passing in his mind. Next morning, however, as they were again
prosecuting their journey through umbrageous lanes, he began meekly and
humbly to disclose his thoughts; expressing his fears that the expense
of the previous day had exceeded their wants; adding, that the patrimony
of Christ ought not to be spent in superfluities, but given to the poor;
that beneficed clerks are only dispensers of the Church, not lords of
its substance; that when, in the words of St. Ambrose, we _assist the
poor, we give nothing of our own, but only that which the church
appoints us to dispense_; and, therefore, that ecclesiastical goods
belong not to clerks, but to the poor.[91]
Saying these and other things that pressed heavily on his mind, Gobert
lamented that he should have squandered the money which did not belong
to him. But brother Peter did not receive this reproof with a humble
mind; on the contrary, he became so angry that he did not answer him a
word. Thus they rode on for nearly three hours, Peter all the while
preserving a sullen and painful silence, which the holy Gobert
observing, he tried to soothe and turn away his displeasure, by
addressing him in terms of mild and brotherly affection. At last, seeing
that he could make no impression upon him, he said, “My brother, it is
time for us to discharge the service of hours to our Creator!”
Whereupon, according to the custom of the Cistercians, they dismounted
and knelt down to begin the office. In this posture of devotion, while
brother Peter was prostrate on the earth, Gobert, with clasped hands
turned towards him, and bursting into tears, humbly implored his
forgiveness for having, by words of admonition and seeming reproof,
moved his resentment. But as this did not appear to soften the monk’s
obdurate heart, he continued his entreaties, and declared that he would
not rise from his knees until he had forgiven him. At last, touched and
overcome by so much Christian humility, brother Peter relented; and,
taking Gobert by the hand, with feelings of mingled shame and
contrition, raised him up; and having freely forgiven him,[92] and
received his forgiveness, they went on their way rejoicing.
Thus far the chronicle, which the reader will find quoted in the Ages of
Faith. “But,” says the learned author, “it was chiefly as _reformers_ of
their respective communities, that the holy men of monastic life
suffered persecution.” In estimating the fortitude of those who laboured
in this vineyard, it is to be observed, that specious arguments were
never wanting to excuse the evil for which they sought a remedy. The
monks of St. Benedict, according to Orderic Vitalis, who resisted the
reform introduced by the Abbot Robert,[93] defended themselves on this
ground, urging that the different circumstances of the times required a
life different from that of the hermits of Egypt. “God forbid,” said
they, “that valiant knights, that subtile philosophers, and eloquent
doctors, merely because they have renounced the world, should be
obliged as mean slaves to occupy themselves in ignoble works.[94] On
these occasions, however, the real source of hostility was seldom
avowed. Much was advanced in the time of St. Bernard, in respect to the
colour of habits; but St. Peter the Venerable disengaged the question
from its adventitious appendages: “Perhaps,” said he, writing to St.
Bernard, “there is another and a deeper cause for this dissension
between the Clugniacs and the Cistercians--between the ancient and the
modern communities. We are _restorers of piety that was grown cold_; we
are distinguished from others in _manners_, as well as in habits and
customs. This is the secret and urgent cause of the breach of charity
and of tongues, that are sharpened like swords against us. And oh, how
much to be deplored, if the abstinence, the purity of a whole life; if
invincible obedience, if unbroken fasts, if perpetual vigils, if such a
yoke of discipline, if so many palms of patience, if so many
labours--not so much of an earthly, as of a celestial life--should be
dissipated by one hiss of the serpent: how much to be deplored, if the
old dragon should thus, in an instant, with one breath, dissipate all
your treasures collected by the grace of God, and leave you empty in the
sight of the Supreme Judge!”[95]
[Illustration: O]f the miraculous legends connected with these
institutions, the following, taken from the annals of a sister
abbey,[96] may serve as a specimen:--One evening, three strangers
knocked at the abbey gate, and being admitted to lodge there for the
night, were immediately conducted into the church, as the rule of St.
Benedict directs; and having there finished their devotions, they were
led back to the Guest Chamber, and welcomed in by brother Walter.
Thence, as soon as the ceremony of washing their feet was over, they
were summoned to the Refectory; but scarcely had they taken their seats,
when it was discovered that one of the strangers was missing, and his
chair empty. “Where,” said the hospitaller, addressing the other two;
“where is your companion?” “Companion!” said the strangers, greatly
surprised at the question; “thy servants had no companion.” “Nay,” quoth
the friar, “say not so, I pray you; for ’tis but this instant that I
placed three at table, and he who sat betwixt you has left his chair
empty.” “Nay, we assure thee,” rejoined the strangers, “that no _third_
person entered with us, neither have we journeyed hither with any man;
but, being overtaken by night, we came along to the abbey gate, nor have
we spoken to any man, save only thyself.” Strong in his own conviction,
friar Walter was immovable; and calling the porter and another monk to
his assistance, the fact of a third person having entered was confirmed
by their united testimony. Hereupon the strangers could only repeat what
they had already asserted; but to give it more solemnity, they called
St. Benedict himself to witness the truth of their words. All was
amazement; diligent search was made, but no foot had repassed the gate,
nor was any stranger to be found in church or cloisters; so the two
visitors, being spared all further question, were hospitably entertained
for the night, and dismissed with the usual benediction. The next night,
however, the hospitaller had a vision in his sleep: a personage of
angelic features appeared to him; and with a voice like that of
celestial music, said, “Walter, dost thou know me? I am the stranger
whose sudden disappearance last night so greatly moved the warder. Know
then, that by the good pleasure of heaven I am appointed to watch over
this Monastery; to attend the outgoing and the incoming of every holy
brother; and that my present errand is to certify that the alms and
oblations of this community, more especially of your Abbot, have
ascended in sweet memorial to heaven, and are accepted.” Again--
Waltheof, an abbot of whom we read in the Cistercian Annals, had many
severe trials to undergo, not only with refractory monks, but with the
arch-fiend himself, who appeared to have delegated the management of his
other affairs to inferior powers of darkness, in order that he himself
might direct his whole force and strategy against the uncompromising
Waltheof. But the abbot, aware of all these machinations, never lost an
inch of ground; every fresh rencontre was to him a fresh triumph; for
knowing the strength and skill of the enemy, he took up the shield of
faith, and, cased in this armour of proof, met his spiritual foe with a
look of contempt and defiance. To report their numerous conflicts, would
be to recapitulate the days of the life of Waltheof--for it was
literally a warfare. At length, one evening after Compline--when all the
monks had retired to the dormitory--the abbot continued lingering in the
church; for, feeling a weight at heart, he wished to unburden his grief
in solitary prayer and meditation. At such moments, it is well known,
the powers of darkness are always most active--most on the alert; and
Waltheof no sooner looked down the left aisle, than he perceived the
arch-fiend moving stealthily from behind a pillar. In this instance he
had assumed the habit of a monk; but as he cast no shadow behind him,
and caused no sound as he shuffled along the tesselated floor, the abbot
soon recognised his old customer, and calmly waited for him at the foot
of the altar. Seeing himself thus baffled, the fiend suddenly threw
aside his cowl, and assumed the terrific form of a soldier, armed at all
points, and of such gigantic proportions, that in a moment every pillar
in the nave seemed to have dwindled into insignificance. His grand
object, as the abbot foresaw, was to inspire him with sudden terror, and
thus drive him from his sanctuary; but the attempt was vain. He then
brandished a huge spear, and belching forth streams of blue fire as he
approached, made a feint, as if he would have hurled the weapon at his
head. But the abbot, continuing to make the sign of the cross, kept the
great adversary of mankind at bay; yet still finding that he did not
quit the sacred pile, he armed himself with the pix which contained the
sacred wafer; and then advancing, exclaimed, “Behold, thou wicked
soldier, thou base hireling! here is thy judge, who shall quickly send
thee to the bottomless pit! Wait for him if thou darest!” What need of
words; at this sight the foul fiend suddenly collapsed in all his
terrific proportions, and vanished in a cloud of smoke.[97]
These two examples may suffice to give the reader some idea of the
numerous legends with which the monastic annals abound: and, in addition
to what has been already said of the internal administration of this
order, we shall, from time to time, introduce other particulars, drawn
from various sources, but chiefly from their own chronicles.
[Illustration]
Environs.--It would be difficult to name a locality that, within so
small a compass, contains so many richly-varied landscapes, as the Vale
of Tinterne. In whatever direction we move, the eye is arrested by new
features, new combinations of the graceful and picturesque. A saunter
along the river, where it forms a crescent between the abbey and the
village, will gratify every lover of the picturesque, and bring before
him the beauty and freshness of nature, in striking contrast with the
sublime but faded monuments of art. The best hour for enjoying this
scene is about sunset; and, on returning, the tourist may ascend the
Chapel Hill, and thence, in a more extended panorama, look down upon
what would have furnished a rich subject for the pencil of Claude. The
river, with its fantastic windings, here clamorous among shallows--there
gliding away with the rapid but inaudible march of time--masses of brown
rock overhanging the pass, gleaming in confused blocks through the trees
that clamber up their
[Illustration: _The Vale of Tintern._
From the Devil’s Pulpit.]
steep sides, or crown their pinnacles with masses of verdure; while here
and there a cottage, with its whitewashed walls, gives new life and
interest to the scene.
How oft the pilgrim, lingering here,
Beneath that yew’s sepulchral shade,
Hath dropt the penitential tear,
And, sighing to himself, hath said--
There’s solace here for all my woe,
St. Mary’s altar gleams below;
And blessèd be the hand divine,
That leads the pilgrim to her shrine.
But the point from which the Abbey of Tinterne is seen to most
advantage, is that chosen by Mr. Bartlett in the illustration opposite.
The way to the ‘Devil’s Pulpit,’ as it is called, runs along the left
bank of the Wye, and, in its winding course, presents many little
glimpses of the vale and river, that, like small cabinet-pictures, serve
as a gradual introduction to the splendid panorama of nature--the
features of which are here so faithfully illustrated by the pencil, as
to render description superfluous.
The river, rolling far below--
Here swift as time, there still and slow;
O’ershadowed here with arching bowers,
There sweetly fringed with summer flowers;
The Vale--where, through its orchard trees,
The curling vapour meets the breeze,
And, vast and venerably grand,
The Abbey’s mouldering arches stand,--
All these a wondrous scene impart,
To charm the eye and melt the heart;
The scroll of ages to unfold,
And paint the wondrous men of old.
Of this lofty and romantic scene Mr. Thomas writes:--“Who shall describe
the glories of this splendid view? Who cannot but involuntarily think of
the second scene in the Temptation, when the prince of the power of the
air took the Prince of peace into an exceeding high mountain, and showed
him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, in a moment of
time? But let no satanic thought break in upon the holy influence which
the soul delights to cherish in this lovely spot! It seems as though
imagination, that potent enchantress of the mind, had transmitted us to
some pinnacled mountain to show us the peace, the beauty, and permanence
of the works of God, in vivid contrast with the feeble, the transitory,
the desolated works of man--the ruined abbey encircled by the
everlasting hills. This comprehensive panorama contains the most
pleasing combination of nature and art, mountain and meadow, water and
wood. There flows the glassy Wye, coiled like a serpent, and either
buried in woods, or gliding peacefully through meadows spangled with
fleecy flocks. Its buoyant bosom bears a little bark freighted with the
gay partizans of pleasure, whose scarlet banner is playing with the
summer’s breeze. The distant sounds of a solitary flute harmonize with
the busy hum of bees, and the song of some half-secluded bird. Again, we
hear the hoarser cry of the mariner, and the metallic voice of an
industrious anvil. The unpretending church of Tinterne, in its unspotted
whiteness, contrasts with its aged companion--a sombre yew, which, like
an ample pall, is overshadowing the clustered monuments of death.”
Lancaut cliffs, which contribute a striking feature to this part of the
scenery, are rendered still more interesting by the following
tradition:--During the calamitous war, so often referred to in these
pages, Sir John Winter was eminently distinguished by his devotion to
the royal cause. The personal risks and pecuniary sacrifices to which he
was daily exposed, only served to give more warmth to his loyalty. When
the Parliament sent their first troops to the banks of the Wye, Winter
converted his house at Sidney into a fortress; and so promptly and
skilfully was this accomplished, that it was rendered not merely
inaccessible, but so well provisioned and fortified as to be able to
stand a siege. In this, perhaps, there was some little exaggeration; for
the garrison, then at Gloucester, and acting under the direction of
skilful and determined leaders, were not likely to have been foiled, had
they made any such attempt. Their grand object was Chepstow Castle; and
if that fortress was ultimately found to be untenable, the defence of a
private fortalice must have been a rash and hopeless attempt. It proves,
nevertheless, that his loyalty admitted of no fear, and was prepared for
every extremity. Acting under the command of Lord Herbert--whose
operations will be detailed in our account of Raglan--Winter, by his
rapid movements, frequently alarmed the troops under General Massey. But
after the siege of Gloucester was raised by the Earl of Essex, the
king’s interest in that part of the country was much impaired; and the
Parliamentary forces continuing to advance, Sir John Winter was
compelled by urgent duties to abandon his own residence, and retire
across the frontier. In his retreat, however, through the forest of
Tudenham, Cromwell’s dragoons were immediately on his traces; escape was
seemingly impossible--he was completely hemmed in by the enemy on one
hand, and the Wye on the other; and though well mounted, he soon
perceived that his pursuers were sensibly gaining upon him. Determined
that they should never boast of having taken him prisoner, he turned his
horse’s head suddenly towards the rocks, which now bear his name, and by
means, he knew not how, quickly disappeared and descended the cliffs in
safety. At the base of these rolled the Wye, then in flood tide; but
plunging into the river, his gallant steed carried him safely to the
opposite bank, where he was soon joined by a party of royalists, and
congratulated upon his miraculous escape. The point at which he
descended the rocks is still called Winter’s leap. Of his escape, by
scrambling down the cliff, there is no doubt; but to represent it as the
result of a _leap_[98] on horseback, would be to assume the peculiar
privilege of “Geoffrey of Monmouth.”
After this perilous feat, the hardy royalist returned to his house at
Sidney; but finding it, on closer inspection, to be quite untenable, he
had it demolished, and then, joining the king’s forces, took part in the
battle of Naseby, which gave a finishing blow to the king’s affairs.
[Illustration: A] walk from the Abbey to the village of Tinterne Parva,
will never fail to interest the stranger; in this short distance, many
new features and new combinations of scenery crowd upon the view, and
carry the mind back to remote times, when the cloister bell was the only
sound that broke in upon the stillness of the scene. Sweeping round the
outer ring of the crescent, within which the river flows in a deep
smooth channel, the road is overhung by masses of rock, shaded by trees,
and skirted by cottages, which, from the situations they occupy, rather
than any taste or merit in their construction, present a picturesque
appearance. As we advance, the scene is continually changing: the old
abbey walls, beautiful from whatever point they are contemplated, assume
a comparatively new aspect from the western approach, particularly about
sunset, when the whole building appears as if bathed in a flood of
yellow light. To enjoy the scenery of the place under such
circumstances, is worth a long day’s pilgrimage. The river, which here
doubles upon itself, so as to take the form of a horse shoe, is of a
depth navigable for small craft; and though here and there fretted by
rocks, the surface, as we passed, was smooth and limpid; through which,
as in a mirror, the picturesque scenery on its banks appeared in
distinct and beautiful reflexion.
Near to the Cross, the ancient market-place of the village, the stranger
is shown a ruined edifice, partly covered with ivy, and bearing the
evidence of having suffered less from time than violence. This is
supposed to have been the villa, or extra-cloister residence of the
abbots of Tinterne, to which at certain seasons they could retire from
the exercise of their public functions, and enjoy the privileges of
social life--the society and conversation of friends and strangers,
without the forms and austerities of the cloister. Of this building,
nothing but a few shapeless walls is left; but from the size and
structure of the windows, square-headed and divided by transoms, it
seems probable that the house is not earlier than the reign of
Elizabeth. Mr. Thomas thinks, that from its Tudor-Gothic style, it was
probably built by the abbot and some of the brotherhood, as a retreat
about the period when the original foundation was dissolved. During the
war which devastated the frontier in 1645-6, it was taken and ransacked
by the soldiers of the Commonwealth. Since that period it has often
changed its owners; and at one time, we are told, though on rather
uncertain ground, it was the residence of the family of Fielding the
novelist--
Whose name
Still draws the pilgrim to its shattered frame,
And bids him linger ’neath its shadow.
The parish church of Tinterne Parva is a small but very ancient
building, irregularly divided into porch, nave, and chancel. Its
erection, according to the historian of the abbey, was anterior to the
foundation of the monastery itself; and by some writers it is even
considered to have been the parent church. The evidences of its great
antiquity may be found in the building itself; and a practised eye will
detect indications of a British origin, in certain niches or circular
arched windows in the massive walls of the western side. The porch,
which is chaste and in good preservation, is a subsequent erection, and
yet of a remote age. The chancel, which “most uncouthly joins the nave,”
is the latest portion of the fabric. There are fragments of some antique
monuments scattered about the floor--memorials of ecclesiastics--which,
the writer sarcastically observes, “have been judiciously cut up, and
squared, to mend the pavement!” By this sage arrangement, the parochial
economy has been brought into the sharpest practice; and although it has
evinced no special veneration for the sainted dead, or the hallowed
relics of antiquity, yet “the ruinous expense of hauling fresh slabs
from the quarry, on the opposite side of the way, has been most
considerately spared.” Moreover, he adds, “the pipe of the stove within,
is picturesquely thrust through the only Gothic window remaining in the
nave!”[99]
As if its smoke, though dark and somewhat denser,
Were meant to represent the ancient Censer,
That once, with daily sacrifice, perfumed
The ground where saints and heroes lay inhumed.
By the churchyard stile, as Mr. Thomas happily describes it, “and
beneath the dark mantling boughs of the yew-tree, a scene of exquisite
sweetness steals upon the eye. The beautiful meadows beyond are skirted
by a ridge of lofty woods, with the gentle Wye flowing like a liquid
mirror below. Beneath the
[Illustration: _The Ferry at Tintern._]
renewed limbs of an aged elm-tree, hollowed and blasted by the storms of
many winters, a flock of unmolested sheep repose in grateful shade;
these are, indeed, made “to lie down in green pastures,” and are “led
beside the still waters.”
It would be difficult to picture to the mind’s eye a scene of more
enchanting repose; in such a place as this, with such objects before
him, the verdant pastures, the pendent groves, the winding river, the
tranquil sky,--where the very clouds, with their fleecy wings stretched
forth in vain to catch the subtile current, seem like a fleet becalmed
on the wide ocean, waiting for the breeze;--with these before him,
ambition forgets the world; sorrow looks up with more cheerful
resignation; cares and disappointments lose both their weight and their
sting: with so little of sordid earth, so much of the sublimity of
nature to contemplate, his thoughts become chastened, soothed, and
elevated; and the heart expands under a new sense of happiness, and a
feeling of brotherly kindness and benevolence towards everything that
breathes. He feels the poet’s exhortation in all its force--
When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come, like a blight,
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, the shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart,
Go forth into the open sky, and list
To Nature’s teaching!
And then turning to Wordsworth:--
For I have learnt
To look on Nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh, nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the roused ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows, and the woods,
And mountains, and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they half create,
And what perceive.
Striguil.--The whole frontier of this interesting country--the land of
Gwent--is sprinkled over with picturesque ruins,--the crumbling remains
of those warlike strongholds raised by the Norman barons, as a defence
to their newly-acquired possessions, which were brought into frequent
jeopardy by the martial and reluctant subjects of the new dynasty. To
these we can only advert in passing--for the plan on which this work is
conducted, does not admit of their being noticed in detail. In the
second century after the Conquest, six of these strongholds were erected
near the British forest of Wentwood[100]--a still venerable chase of
between two and three thousand acres in extent, and associated with many
events in the history and traditions of the Welsh frontiers. The grand
object of these castles was to form a chain of garrisoned forts for the
protection of Norman interests against the incursions of a people who,
although compelled to pass under a foreign yoke, still gloried in their
independence, and embraced every occasion to prove that their martial
spirit, though bowed, was not broken.
One of the strongest of these embattled fastnesses was
Castell-glyn-y-Striguil,[101] erected, according to Doomsday-book, by
the Norman warrior so often named in this work, William Fitzosborne. In
Hammer’s Irish Chronicle,[102] however, its erection is ascribed to
Gilbert Strongbow, whose life and family we have already noticed in the
account of Tinterne Abbey. The remains of this castle, though inadequate
to convey any just notion of its original strength, are still
sufficiently marked with regard to its size and proportions. Its
outworks have mouldered down into shapeless masses, over which nature
has thrown so dense a matting of underwood, that the traces of art have
been almost obliterated. The form “was that of an oblong square, the
angles of which, as usual in such cases, were defended by octagonal
towers;”[103] at one extremity was the donjon, or keep, the situation of
which is indicated by the shapeless mound of vegetation, which draws
nutriment from its débris. The walls were encircled by a deep moat,
supplied by two mountain rivulets, which unite at this point to form the
Troggy, one of the silver tributaries of the river Usk.
The other castles Avhich deserve a cursory notice, are, Llanvair,
Llanvaches, Pencoed, Dinham, and Penhow.[104] The latter, an ancient
seat of the Seymours, occupies a bold and romantic situation. The
acclivity which forms the direct approach to it, is nearly
perpendicular. The view which it commands consists of a valley, or
rather wooded ravines, in the foreground; and in the distance, a range
of barren hills that bound the horizon--
Hills that, giving birth
To circling fountains, glad the parent earth;
And from their bosom, framed for martial toil,
Sent forth the guardian heroes of the soil.
By the marriage of the Lady Jane, daughter of Sir John Seymour, with
Henry the Eighth, and the birth of their son, afterwards Edward the
Sixth, the house of Penhow was placed in a situation to compete with
that of Raglan; and by the fortuitous influence thus acquired, the
Seymours took a leading authority in the management and direction of
county affairs.
This castle, or rather fortalice, appears to have derived its strength,
more from its isolated and once inaccessible position, than from the
extent of its walls or outworks. A portion of the interior has been
repaired and rendered habitable, or rather a house has been erected on
the site of the old _berçeau_, and thus future patriots and statesmen
may yet “come forth of Penhow.”
Llanvair, about six miles west from Chepstow, was the ancient residence
of the Kemeys family, from whom sprang Sir Nicholas Kemeys, the last
governor of Chepstow Castle, whose heroic but tragical fate has been
already noticed in these pages. The ruins of this ancient homestead are
too inconsiderable to challenge more than a passing glance from the
tourist. The same may be said of Dinham, a hamlet in the parish of
Llanvair-Discoed.
Goldcliffe, “so called,” says Camden, “because the stones there, of a
golden colour, by reverberation of the sunne shining full upon them,
glitter with a wonderful brightnesse. Neither can I be easilie perswaded
that nature hath given this brightnesse in vaine unto the stones, and
that there should be a flowre here without fruit; were there any man
that would serch into the veines there, and using the direction of Art,
enter into the inmost and secretest bowels of the earth.”[105] But what
was a mystery in the days of Giraldus, and even of Camden, admits of a
very simple solution. The Gold Cliff, so called, consists of a rock
nearly perpendicular, which rises abruptly to the height of a hundred
feet in an extensive moor.[106] It consists of limestone strata, nearly
horizontal and parallel, supported by a base of brown sandstone,
abounding with yellow mica. The brilliant effect of the sun upon this
micaceous surface, was a reason for the old belief in the neighbourhood,
that the rock contained gold, and was therefore considered as a
situation of peculiar value and sanctity.[107] The church of Goldcliffe
belonged to a priory founded and endowed in 1113, by Robert de Chandos,
eighteen years earlier than that of Tinterne Abbey, who, by the
persuasion of Henry the First, annexed it to the Abbey of Bec, in
Normandy, whence a prior and twelve Black, or Benedictine, friars were
conveyed to it. On the suppression of alien priories, Henry Beauchamp,
Earl of Warwick, obtained of King Henry the Sixth the patronage of the
priory, with permission to annex it to the Abbey of St. Mary, at
Tewkesbury, to which it was made a cell in 1442. The Cambro-Britons,
however, being offended at this measure, obliged the prior and monks of
Tewkesbury to quit Goldcliffe in 1445; but in the following year they
were permitted to return. In the twenty-ninth of the reign of Henry the
Sixth, Goldcliffe Priory was granted to the college at Eton, and to
Tewkesbury again. At the accession of Edward the Fourth, but seven years
later, it was restored to Eton college, in whose possession it has since
remained.[108]
Caldicot.--The castle of this name is said to have been erected by one
of the ancient Bohuns, earls of Hereford, hereditary
lords-high-constables of England,[109] for nearly two hundred years.
From them the castle descended to Henry, Duke of Lancaster, and upon
his accession to the throne as Henry the Fourth, it was invested in the
crown. The ivy-mantled walls enclose a large court, with three
entrances. The principal gateway is flanked by lofty square towers; and
on the east side are the remains of the hall, comprising a range of
windows, of large size and elegant workmanship. The style of masonry, as
shown in the construction of the walls, is excellent; the courses of
large and equal sized stones, are accurately squared and jointed; but
the whole construction has more the appearance of an ancient domestic
residence, than of a British stronghold--well suited for the
accommodation of a feudal baron and his retinue in times of peace, but
ill prepared to resist an enemy, or sustain a siege.
Yet there Tradition tells her tale
Of warrior-knights in glittering mail--
Of martial feat, and festive hall,
And banners waving from the wall;
When Cambria’s rival spears were bent
For martial joust and tournament;
While Beauty, from her lattice high,
Surveyed the scene with radiant eye--
And Cambria’s Chivalry in arms
Did faithful homage to her charms.
But Caldicot, how lonely now!
The wreath has withered from thy brow;
The scene of song and martial deeds
Is now a wilderness of weeds!
Ah, such at last the homes shall be
Of England’s proudest Chivalry!
Mathern is remarkable as the burial-place of Theodoric or Teudrick, the
hermit king of Glamorgan, already mentioned.[110] His hermitage “among
the rocks of Tinterne,” to which he had retired for repose and
meditation in the evening of life, is supposed to have stood on the site
of the present abbey, which had thus, in the traditional records of the
people, a spot already consecrated by royal example, as a foundation for
those gorgeous altars by which it was subsequently distinguished.
When dragged from his retreat by the supplications of his family and
subjects, and armed once more against the Saxons, he solemnly enjoined
his son that, in the event of his falling in battle, they should erect a
Christian church over his remains, as a monument of his faith and
patriotism. The battle that speedily ensued, as tradition reports, was a
great victory, but a victory purchased with the blood of Teudrick; for
during the fierce conflict that had covered the Vale of Tinterne with
the slain, he received a blow from a Saxon battle-axe which proved
fatal. From the field he was conveyed homeward as far as Mathern, where
he died; and there his son, who succeeded him in the chieftainship,
erected a church to his memory, the name of which has perpetuated his
martyrdom.[111]
The foundation of this church in its primitive state, consisted, like
other British structures, of a nave only--a side aisle and chancel
appear to have been added at a very early date; and, subsequently to
these, a tower was erected which completed the sacred edifice, and
rendered it more conspicuous as a historical landmark, and place of
pilgrimage. It is distinguished by handsome Gothic windows, portions of
which are adorned with stained glass; and the roof is supported by Saxon
arches, resting on massive octagon piers.
On a plain mural tablet in the Chancel of this ancient church, is the
following inscription, supposed to have been written by Bishop Godwin.
The fact of its being the sepulchre of the British Prince Teudrick, was
finally ascertained by the discovery of his stone coffin, in which the
skeleton was found almost entire. On the skull, also, in accordance with
local tradition, a fracture was observed, which clearly indicated the
manner of his death, and confirmed the testimony of local history.
The following is the inscription:--“Here lyeth entombed the body of
THEODORIC, King of Morganuch, or Glamorgan, commonly called St.
Theodoric, and accounted a martyr, because he was slain in battle
against the Saxons, being then pagans, and in defence of the Christian
Religion. The battle was fought at Tynterne, where he obtained a great
victory. He died here, being on his way homeward, three days after the
battle, having taken order with Maurice, his son, who succeeded him in
the kingdom, that in the same place where he should happen to decease, a
church should be built, and his body buried in the same, which was
accordingly performed in the year 600.”
“On ascending the tower of this church,” says Mr. Thomas, “a scene of
great extent and surpassing beauty is spread before the eye; on one side
you have a long reach of water, strewn with vessels and rocks; on the
other a wide undulating tract of land, overspread with villas and
smiling meadows, crowded with many a gentle herd; while beneath, and not
the least interesting objects of this scene, are those melancholy wrecks
of bygone splendour--Mathern Palace and Moinscourt.” The first of these
two objects, the old episcopal residence, is now “the ruinous retreat of
some humble followers of the plough.” The north and north-east portions,
comprising the porch and tower, were erected by Bishop De la Zouch, who
was consecrated in the year 1408, and the chapel hall, and some other
compartments, were added by Miles Sulley, who came to the see in 1504.
Moinscourt, now reduced to the humble uses of a farmhouse, was another
of the palaces, belonging to the see of Llandaff, and supposed to have
been erected by Bishop Godwin, who made it his favourite residence.
Passing beneath a Gothic porch, crowned with two lofty turrets, we enter
a spacious quadrangular court, at the extremity of which stands the
palace. Over the entrance is an escutcheon, on which are sculptured the
arms of Godwin, impaled with those of the see, and bearing the date of
1603. The court was formerly adorned with two monuments of Roman
antiquity found in the vicinity--one a votive altar, the other an
inscription, recording the rebuilding of the Temple of Diana, by T. F.
Posthumius Varus. It was from the ancient Roman slabs, built into the
garden walls of this residence, that Bishop Godwin supplied the drawings
and inscriptions for Camden’s Britannia.[112]
Before adverting to the final suppression of Tinterne Abbey, and the
confiscation of its revenues to the king’s treasury, we shall now take a
brief view of the circumstances which led to this grand revolution in
our ecclesiastical government--quoting for our authority those writers
of unquestionable veracity, who have treated of that momentous epoch.
First, with regard to the
Dissolution.--“Never,” says an historian of this epoch,[113] “never was
there any exploit, seemingly so full of hazard and danger, more easily
achieved than the subversion of our English monasteries.” The church
commissioners presented a startling report of the vices[114] and
deceptions of the monks and nuns; and, what was of equal weight in the
condemnation, they sent in the title-deeds of their estates, with the
inventory of their plate, jewels, and ready money. Upon this a bill was
introduced, giving unto the king and his heirs all monastic
establishments, the revenues of which did not exceed two hundred pounds
sterling a year, with every kind of property attached to them, whether
real or personal. Three hundred and eighty of the lesser houses fell
within this category, and were suppressed; whereby the king was enriched
by thirty-two thousand pounds per annum--an enormous sum in that day--in
addition to a hundred thousand pounds in ready money, plate, and jewels.
The bill, according to one writer, was not passed through the House of
Commons without some difficulty; but Henry, sending for the ministers,
and telling them that he would have either the bill or their heads, they
passed it immediately.
The parliament, which, by successive prorogations, had sat for the
unprecedented term of six years, was now dissolved; and Henry, after all
their passive obedience, appears to have been disgusted at this their
last and feeble effort at opposition. He now named other commissioners
to take possession of the suppressed monasteries, and to prepare
measures for the seizure of others. If these men, mostly the friends of
Cromwell or of Cranmer, had a better religion before their eyes, they
certainly were not blind to the charms of lucre, and the temptations of
fair houses and fat glebes; as many of them made a harvest for
themselves, out of the spoils of the monks and nuns.[115]
The superiors of the suppressed houses were promised small pensions for
life, which were very irregularly paid. All the monks not twenty-four
years of age were absolved from their vows, and turned loose upon the
world without any kind of provision; the rest, if they wished to
continue in the profession, were divided among the greater houses that
were still left standing. The poor nuns were turned adrift to beg or
starve; having nothing given to them, save one common gown for
each.[116] “These things,” says Godwin, “were of themselves distasteful
to the vulgar sort, of whom each one did, as it were, claim a share in
the goods of the church; for many being neither monks, nor allied to
monks, did, notwithstanding, conceive that it might hereafter come to
pass that either their children, friends, or kindred, might obtain their
share; whereas, when all their property was once confiscated, they could
never hope for any such advantages. But the popular commiseration for
the thousands of monks and nuns who were, almost without warning given,
thrust out of doors, and committed to the mercy of the world, became a
more forcible cause of discontent. There were not wanting desperate men
to take advantage of this state of public feeling; and it was diligently
rumoured in all parts, that this was but the beginning of greater evils
and more general spoliations--only a trial of their patience; that, as
yet, the shrubs and underwood were but touched; but unless a speedy
remedy were applied, the end would be with the fall of the lofty oaks.”
At the same time, the crowds of poor, who, by an ancient but defective
system, had derived their support from the monastic establishments,
became furious at finding their resources cut off, and at seeing the
monks who had fed them now begging like themselves by the roadsides.
In the midst of these general discontents, Cranmer and Cromwell issued
certain doctrinal injunctions to the clergy, which were too novel to
find immediate favour with the multitude; and certain Protestant
reformers, who had more courage than they, ventured to print books about
Iconolatria, image-worship, auricular confession, transubstantiation,
and other fundamental tenets and practices of the Roman Catholic Church.
The king, who assumed all the authority in matters of dogmas that had
ever been claimed by the popes, and much more than they had ever put in
practice in England, pronounced rewards and sentences which irritated
both parties alike, and all these questions were referred to him--thus
occupying a good deal of his time, and keeping in dangerous activity his
old political bile.[117] We find the Lord Chancellor Audley writing in
great perturbation to Cromwell, telling him that “there is a book come
forth in print, touching the taking away of images, and begging to know
whether he was privy to the publishing thereof,” which Cranmer probably
was,[118] though, had such a fact been known to his master at that
moment, his neck would have been in jeopardy. The chancellor says, “I
assure you, in the parts where I have been, some discord there is, and
diversity of opinion among the people, touching the worshipping of
saints and images; and for creeping, kneeling at cross, and such like
ceremonies heretofore used in the church, which discord it were good
should be put to silence; and this book will make much business in the
same, if it should go forth. Wherefore,” he continues, “I pray you, I
may be advised whether you know it or no, for I intend to send for the
printers and stop them; but there may be many abroad. It were good that
the preachers and people abstained from opinions of such things, till
such time as by the report of such as the king’s highness hath appointed
for the searching and ordering of laws of the church, his grace may put
a final order on such things, how his people and subjects shall use
themselves without contention. And if the people were thus commanded by
proclamation to abstain till that time, such proclamation, drawn in
honest terms, would do much good to avoid contention.”[119]
The king was by no means backward in issuing his final orders and
decrees spiritual; and the reformers herein concealing their ulterior
views, he was led to reduce the number of sacraments from seven to
three--Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and Penance; to forbid the direct
adoration of images; to abrogate a number of saints’ days or holidays,
especially such as fell in harvest time; to declare the Scriptures, with
the Apostolic, Nicene, and Athanasian creeds, the sole standards of
faith; to order every parish priest to expound these to his parishioners
in plain English; and to direct the printing and distribution of an
English translation of the Bible, one copy of which was to be kept in
every parish church. The king, in his wisdom, insisted on the necessity
of auricular confession, and denounced any questioning of the ‘real
presence’ in the eucharist as a damnable heresy, to be punished with
fire and faggot. Purgatory, he confessed, puzzled him; steering a middle
course, he declared himself to be uncertain on this head; and kindly
permitted his subjects to pray for the souls of their departed friends,
provided only that they fell into none of the old abuses of enriching
religious houses and shrines for this object.[120]
“Meanwhile,” says the historian, “the king continued much prone to
reformation, especially if anything might be gotten by it.” Nothing was
more easy than to prove that all the monastic orders had been engaged in
the late insurrection;[121] and as many of the richest abbeys and
priories remained as yet untouched, there was no want of wise
counsellors, all anxious to share in the spoil, who recommended their
total suppression. In some cases, out of a dread of martial law, or,
what was equally bad, a prosecution for high treason, the Abbots
surrendered, gave, and granted their abbeys unto the king, his heirs and
assigns for ever; but still many replied, like the prior of Henton,
“that they would not be light and hasty in giving up those things which
were not theirs to give, being dedicated to the Almighty for service to
be done to his honour continually, with other many good deeds of charity
which be daily done in their houses to their Christian neighbours.”[122]
“These recusants were treated with great severity; the prisons were
crowded with priors and monks, who died so rapidly in their places of
confinement, as to excite a dreadful suspicion.”
Without waiting for a “needless act of parliament, the king suppressed
many other houses; and soon after, with the full consent of Lords and
Commons, finished the business, by seizing all the abbeys without
exception, with all the other religious houses, except a very few,
which, at the earnest petition of the people, were spared or given up to
the representatives of their original founders.” Before proceeding to
the “final suppression, under the pretence of checking the superstitious
worshipping of images, he had laid bare their altars, and stripped their
shrines of everything that was valuable; nor did he spare the rich
coffins and the crumbling bones of the dead.” At the distance of four
hundred years--exasperated at that extraordinary man’s opposition to
the royal prerogative--he determined to execute vengeance on the bones
and relics of
Thomas a Becket.--The Martyr’s tomb was broken open; and by an insane
process, worthy of a Nero or a Caligula, a criminal information was
filed against him as “Thomas Becket, some time Archbishop of
Canterbury;” and he was formally cited to appear in court, and answer to
the charges. Thirty days were allowed the saint; but we need hardly
inform our readers that his dishonoured relics rested quietly at
Canterbury, and did not appear to plead in Westminster Hall. With due
solemnity the court opened its proceedings.[123] The attorney-general
eloquently exposed the case for the prosecution, and the advocates of
the saint--who no doubt spoke less boldly--were heard in defence; and
that being over, sentence was pronounced, that “Becket” had been guilty
of rebellion, treason, and contumacy; that his bones should be burnt as
a lesson to the living not to oppose the royal will; and that the rich
offerings with which many generations of men, native and foreign, had
enriched his shrine, should be forfeited to the crown as the personal
property of the traitor. “In the month of August,” continues the
historian, “Cromwell, who must have smiled at the course pursued, sent
down some of his commissioners to Canterbury, who executed their task so
well, that they filled two immense coffers with gold and jewels, each of
them so heavy that it required eight strong men to lift it.” “Among the
rest,” says Godwin, “was a stone of especial lustre, called the _Royal_
of France, offered by King Louis VII., in the year 1179; together with a
great massive cup of gold, at what time he also bestowed an annuity on
the monks of that church of an hundred tuns of wine. This stone was
afterwards highly prized by the king, who did continually wear it on his
thumb.” A few months after, the king, by proclamation, stated to his
people, that forasmuch as it now clearly appears Thomas Becket had been
killed in a riot provoked by his own obstinacy and insolence, and had
been canonized by the Bishop of Rome merely because he was champion of
that usurped authority, he now deemed it proper to declare that he was
no saint whatever, but a rebel and traitor to his prince: and that,
therefore, he, the king, strictly commanded that he should not be any
longer esteemed or called a saint; that all images and pictures of him
should be destroyed; and that his name and remembrance should be erased
out of all books, under pain of his majesty’s indignation, and
imprisonment at his grace’s pleasure.[124]
The revenues of Tinterne Abbey, though far inferior to others of the
same order, particularly those in Yorkshire, were still sufficient for
the maintenance of the brotherhood, the repairs and decoration of the
buildings, and the exercise of hospitality, which formed so important a
feature in the monastic code. The estimate recorded by Dugdale is
probably under the mark; while that of Speed may possibly exceed, by a
few pounds, the actual rental of the abbey lands. The former has
computed it at £192. 1s. 3d., the latter at £252. 11s. 6d., sums which,
taking into account the value of money in those times, give no mean idea
of its annual resources. This sum, however, is exclusive of the daily
tribute received from the pious hands of pilgrims, and the donations of
many distinguished guests, who, from time to time, sat at the Abbot’s
table, or found refuge in its sanctuary.
The details of the first endowments[125] of Tinterne Abbey, as well as
various later benefactions, down to the seventh year of Henry the
Third, are contained in a charter of confirmation from William Marshall,
grandson of Walter de Clare, the founder.
“Herein,” says Tanner, “were thirteen religious about the time of the
dissolution, when the estates belonging to this monastery were rated at
£256. 11s. 6d. in the gross, and £192. 1s. 4-1/2d. per annum, clear
income.”
The site of Tinterne Abbey, with all the monastic buildings, was granted
28th Henry VIII. to Henry, Earl of Worcester. It is still the property
of his descendant, the Duke of Beaufort. Leland, mentioning Tinterne
Abbey in his Collectanea, says, “There was a sanctuary granted to
Tinterne, but it hath not been used many a day.”
The common seal of this monastery is appended to an instrument dated in
the 6th of Henry VIII., whereby the abbot and convent appoint Charles,
Earl of Worcester, and Henry Somerset, Lord Herbert, his son and heir
apparent, chief stewards of their manor of Arle in Norfolk. The subject
of this seal, of which only a mutilated impression in red wax remains,
was the Virgin Mary and the infant Saviour, seated under an ornamented
arch--in a niche underneath, was an abbot, with his crosier, on his
knees praying. Nearly the whole of the legend is gone, the only part
remaining being.... RII. BEATE.
William Marshall, the “vetus Marescallus,” as he is called in
black-letter chronicles--who married the daughter and heiress of Richard
Strongbow--became the founder of a new Cistercian Abbey, near Wexford,
in Ireland. Finding himself, once upon a time, in great peril during a
voyage thither, he made a vow to the Virgin Mary, that if by her help he
escaped shipwreck, and once more set foot on dry land, he would testify
his gratitude by founding an abbey to her honour. The ship having got
safe into port, he lost no time in commencing the pious work, to which,
in compliment to her elder sister on the Wye, he gave the name of
Tynterna _de Voto_.
Daughters of Tinterne.--In addition to what has been already mentioned
of the two daughters,[126] or offshoots, of Tinterne on the Wye, we
collect the following particulars:--
Tinterne Abbey, in the County of Wexford.--“This abbey was situated on
the shore of Bannow Bay, in the barony of Shelburne, three miles
north-east of Duncannon Fort. William, Earl of Pembroke, as already
mentioned, being in great danger and peril at sea, made a vow to found
an abbey in that place where he should first arrive in safety; and the
place was the bay in question. He accordingly performed his vow,
dedicated his abbey to the Virgin Mary, endowed it, and settled a
convent of Cistercian monks in it, whom he brought from Tinterne in
Monmouthshire. Archdale gives the particulars of the Earl of Pembroke’s
endowment of this house, from King. The whole, however, was not
completed in the earl’s lifetime, for Dugdale has given King John’s
charter confirming the bequest of thirty carucates of land to this abbey
in the earl’s will.”[127]
Kingswood Abbey.--“ROGER DE BERKELEY received by gift of William Rufus
certain lands, upon condition that he should confer them upon some monks
or canons; but being prevented by death, he bequeathed them to William
de Berkeley[128] his nephew, upon the same terms. And of which William,
I find that he bestowed upon the monks of Tynterne, in Wales, a certain
Desart near Berkeley, called Kingswood, there to found an abbey of the
Cistercian Order; and that Maud the Empress, daughter to King Henry the
First, confirmed that grant. The convent was built, but during the
troublous reign of Stephen they removed to Haselden; but thence, on the
return of peace, they were expelled by the proprietor, and again took up
their abode at Kingswood. Reginal D. S. Walerick repenting, invited them
back to Haselden; but, after a time, the place being found very
inconvenient for lack of water, they were removed by him to Tetbury,
Kingswood all this time being left as a mere _grange_ of the monastery.
Of this the heir of the founder complained, and required that the
convent should return thither, according to the conditions upon which it
was given by his ancestor. A general chapter of the whole Order,
however, decided against him, and determined that Kingswood should
remain as a mere farm belonging to the convent of Tetbury; but that mass
should always be sung at Kingswood, privately, by one monk, who was to
have for his labour twenty-seven _marks_ and a half. But after this, by
another general chapter of that Order, it was agreed that the Abbot of
Waverley, in Surrey, should rebuild _Kingswood_ with the consent of the
founder, and confirmation of the King; which being done without the
privity of the convent at Tetbury, and Abbot of Tynterne, who opposed
the same. Upon a meeting of divers other abbots at _Kingswood_, it was
concluded, that the monks placed at Kingswood should be recalled, and
that place reduced unto the state of a _grange_ to Tettebiry, as it was
before.” These transmutations, however, were not yet concluded: “for
Tettebiry being found a narrow place, too little for an abbey, and
having no fuel but what was brought from Kingswood, which was far
distant, Bernard de S. Walerick came to accord with Roger de Berkley,
the founder of Kingswood, and therefore, obtaining a grant from him of
forty acres of land adjoining to Kingswood, translated those monks from
Tettebiry thither, and called it Kingswood, as a name of most
note.”[129] Such were the vicissitudes of this abbey.
According to Pope Nicholas’ taxation, the spiritualities of this
monastery amounted in 1291 to the annual sum of £6. 4s. 4d.; the
temporalities to £47. 17s. 2d.; making a total of £54. 1s. 6d. There is
no valuation of Kingswood in the general ecclesiastical survey of the
26th Henry VIII., though Tanner says it was valued at that time,
according to Dugdale, at £244. 11s. 2d. per annum; according to Speed,
at £254. 11s. 2d.; clear, £239. 19s. 7-3/4d. In a MS. record in the
whole at £254. 5s. 10d. A survey of this house, taken in the 29th Henry
VIII., is preserved in the appendix to the Monasticon Anglicanum. There
is also a minister’s ‘accompt’ of it in the Augmentation office, 32nd
Henry VIII.; but its possessions are there answered for, in gross, at
the sum of £245. 8s. 8d., the whole of its estates being then on lease
to Sir Nicholas Peyntz, Knt., under the seal of the Court of
Augmentations, dated 10th March, 29th Henry VIII., for a term of
twenty-one years at the above rent. In the second year of Queen
Elizabeth, the site of this house was granted to Sir John Thynne, Knt.
The _register_ of Kingswood Abbey was in the possession of John Smith,
Esq. of Nibley, in the county of Gloucester. The common seal represented
the Blessed Virgin crowned, holding in her arms the infant Jesus, and
standing between two elegant pilasters, surmounted by a canopy; the
field diapered; in base, under an arch, the half figure of a monk
praying; the legend much flattened, so that no more of it can be read
than S.COF ... CONVENTUS ... DE KINGEWOD. An impression of this seal on
red wax is appendant to a conventual lease, temp. Henry VIII., in the
Augmentation office.[130]
[Illustration: F]ROM the above cursory notice of the spiritual daughters
of “Holy Tinterne,” we return to the Mother-Abbey.
In England, says an eminent Catholic writer, the scheme of plundering
the ecclesiastical property by men of a certain class, had never been
wholly abandoned. In Henry the Fourth’s time there was “the laymen’s
parliament of those who countenanced Wickliffe, and loved the lands far
better than they did the religion of the Church; but their designs at
that time were defeated by the stout and religious opposition of Thomas
Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, and other Prelates.”[131] Against
these evils the ancient canons of the church in Germany provided, by
prohibiting the faithful from holding any communication with men who
disturb priests, and the state of the church.[132] “Now,” he continues,
“if St. Thomas and the clergy of the middle ages are to be condemned for
resisting such injustice by prayers, and law, and canonical censures,
what will be thought of St. Ambrose, and other pastors of the early
church, who, by still more uncompromising firmness, believed that they
were imitating the apostles?” St. Ambrose declares that he will never
relinquish the churches to the Arians, as the Emperor Valentinian
commands, unless by force. “If any force remove me from the church, my
flesh,” he says, “may be disturbed, but not my mind; for I am prepared
to suffer whatever a priest may suffer, if the emperor should exert his
regal power. I will never abandon the church voluntarily; but I cannot
oppose force. I can grieve, I can weep, I can groan; against arms,
soldiers, and Goths, tears are my arms; for these are the weapons of a
priest. Otherwise I neither ought to resist, nor can I resist. When it
was proposed to me to deliver up the vessels of the church, I sent word
that I would willingly give up what was mine own, whether lands or
houses, gold or silver; but that I could take nothing from the temple of
God, nor lightly abandon what I had received to guard--not to deliver
up. Fear not, therefore, for me, dearly beloved, since I know that
whatever I am about to suffer, I shall suffer for Christ; and the will
of Christ must be fulfilled, and that will be for the best. Let them
decree the penalty of death, I fear it not; nor will I on that account
desert the martyrs; for whither could I go where all things would not be
full of groans and tears, when Catholic priests are ordered to be driven
from the churches, or to be struck with the sword if they resisted; and
this decree to be written by a bishop, who should quote ancient examples
to prove himself most learned? Auxentius, thirsting for blood, demanded
my church; but I say with the prophet--‘Absit ut ego patrum meorum
tradam hæreditatem!’ Naboth was prepared to defend his vineyard at the
expense of his blood. If he could not give up his vineyard, neither will
we give up the church of Christ. Do I then return a contumacious answer?
I have answered as a priest; let the emperor act as an emperor. Last
year,” he adds, “when I was invited to the palace, and introduced before
the council, when the emperor wished to take from us the church, I
should have been subdued by the contemplation of the royal hall, and I
should not have kept the constancy of a priest, or should have departed
with loss of right. Do they not remember, then, how the people rushed to
the palace, and overwhelmed every force, declaring that they would die
for the faith of Christ? Then I was desired to appease the people, which
I did by engaging that the church should not be given up; but now the
Arians wish to give law to the church, and accuse us of sedition in
resisting the emperor. Let him take our tribute or our lands, if they
ask treasure: _our treasure is the poor of_ Christ; our defence is in
the prayers of the poor. These blind, and lame, and weak, and aged
persons, are stronger than robust warriors. I am to give to Cæsar what
belongs to Cæsar; to God what belongs to God: the tribute is Cæsar’s,
but the church is God’s. As for the fire, or sword, or banishment, which
are threatened, we fear them not.”[133]
Again, writing to his sister Marcella, he says: “Not only the basilica
without the walls is now demanded, but also the new and greater one
within the city. When the prince summoned me to resign them, I replied,
what was of course, that ‘the temple of God could not be given up by a
priest.’ The emperor cannot invade the house of a private man, and will
he dare to take possession of the house of God! The palace belongs to
the emperor, the church to the priest. If he be a tyrant, I desire to be
aware of it, that I may know how to prepare against him, for I have the
power to offer my body. If he thinks himself a tyrant, why does he delay
to strike? By ancient laws empires were given by priests, not taken from
them; and it is a common saying, that emperors have rather desired
priesthood, than priests empire. The tyranny of a priest is his
infirmity; for ‘when I am weak, then am I strong.’”
With examples like this before them--and numerous others might here be
cited--it is not surprising that many of the monastic priesthood
preferred to endure fines, imprisonment, and even death, to the
enjoyment of that life and freedom which could only be purchased by acts
of apostacy. And on this portion of our subject we avail ourselves of an
eloquent passage from one of the most popular works of the day:--
The conversion of the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity was the first of a
long series of salutary revolutions. It is true that the church had been
deeply corrupted both by that superstition, and by that philosophy,
against which she had long contended, and over which she had at last
triumphed. She had given a too easy admission to doctrines borrowed from
the ancient schools, and to rites borrowed from the ancient temples.
Roman policy and Gothic ignorance, Grecian ingenuity and Syrian
asceticism, had contributed to deprave her; yet she retained enough of
the sublime theology, and benevolent morality of her earlier days, to
elevate many intellects, and to purify many hearts. Some things also
which, at a later period, were justly regarded as among her chief
blemishes, were in the seventh century, and long afterwards, among her
chief merits. That the sacerdotal order should encroach on the functions
of the civil magistrate, would, in our time, be a great evil. But that
which in an age of good government is an evil, may, in an age of grossly
bad government, be a blessing. It is better that mankind should be
governed by wise laws well administered, and by an enlightened public
opinion, than by priestcraft; but it is better that men should be
governed by priestcraft than by brute violence,--by such a prelate as
Dunstan, than by such a warrior as Penda. A society sunk in ignorance,
and ruled by mere physical force, has great reason to rejoice when a
class, of which the influence is intellectual, rises to ascendancy. Such
a class will doubtless abuse its power; but mental power, even when
abused, is still a nobler and better power than that which consists
merely in corporeal strength. We read in the Anglo-Saxon chronicles of
tyrants who, when at the height of greatness, were smitten with remorse;
who abhorred the pleasures and dignities which they had purchased by
guilt; who abdicated their crowns, and who sought to atone for their
offences by cruel penances and incessant prayers. These stories have
drawn forth bitter expressions of contempt from some writers who, while
they boasted of liberality, were in truth as narrow-minded as any monk
of the dark ages, and whose habit was to apply to all events in the
history of the world the standard received in the Parisian society of
the eighteenth century. Yet surely a system which, however deformed by
superstition, introduced strong moral restraints into communities
previously governed only by vigour of muscle, and by audacity of spirit;
a system which taught even the fiercest and mightiest ruler that he was,
like his meanest bondsman, a responsible being, might have seemed to
deserve a more respectful mention from philosophers and
philanthropists.[134]
The same observations will apply to the contempt with which, in the last
century, it was fashionable to speak of the pilgrimages, the
sanctuaries, the crusades, and the monastic institutions of the middle
ages. In times when men were scarcely ever induced to travel by liberal
curiosity, or by the pursuit of gain, it was better that the rude
inhabitant of the north should visit Italy and the East as a pilgrim,
than that he should never see anything but the squalid cabins, and
uncleared woods, amidst which he was born.[135]
In times when life and female honour were exposed to daily risk from
tyrants and marauders, it was better that the precinct of a shrine
should be regarded with an irrational awe, than that there should be no
refuge inaccessible to cruelty and licentiousness. In times when
statesmen were incapable of forming extensive political combinations, it
was better that the Christian nations should be roused and united for
the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, than that they should, one by one,
be overwhelmed by the Mahometan power. Whatever reproach may, at a later
period, have been justly thrown on the indolence and luxury of religious
orders, it was surely good that, in an age of ignorance and violence,
there should be quiet cloisters and gardens, in which the arts of peace
could be safely cultivated; in which gentle and contemplative natures
could find an asylum; in which one brother could employ himself in
transcribing the Æneid of Virgil, and another in meditating the
Analytics of Aristotle; in which he who had a genius for art, might
illuminate a martyrology, or carve a crucifix; and in which he who had a
turn for natural philosophy, might make experiments on the properties of
plants and minerals. Had not such retreats been scattered here and
there, among the huts of a miserable peasantry, and the castles of a
ferocious aristocracy, European society would have consisted merely of
beasts of burden, and beasts of prey. The church has many times been
compared to the ark of which we read in the Book of Genesis; but never
was the resemblance more perfect than during the evil time, when she
rode alone, amidst darkness and tempest, on the deluge beneath which all
the great works of ancient power and wisdom lay entombed; bearing within
her that feeble germ, from which a second and more glorious civilization
was to spring.[136]
[Illustration: U]NDER the blasting influence of an arbitrary power, that
found its zealous instruments in the Commissioners appointed for that
service, the suppression and confiscation of the English monasteries
were quickly followed by a long train of national misery and
degradation, of which lamentable evidence is found in the chronicles of
that period. From these popular and authentic sources we extract the
following picture:--
In the final seizure of the abbeys and monasteries of England, the
richest fell first. In the spring of 1540, all the monastic
establishments of the kingdom were suppressed, and the mass of their
landed property was divided among courtiers and parasites. The gold and
silver, and costly jewels of shrines, had partly gone in that direction,
and had partly been kept for the king’s use. The troubled fountain of
the Reformation, it has been said, sent forth two streams--the one of
sweet, the other of bitter waters.[137] “It is the duty of an impartial
historian to dwell for a time by the bitter stream. Between the ignorant
zealots of the new doctrines, and the rudeness of the men employed in
the suppression, who were all most anxious for spoil, and who probably
cared little for any form of religion, or any decency of worship,
innumerable works of art were destroyed; magnificent specimens of
architecture were defaced and left roofless. Statues and pictures, many
of them the productions of Italian masters,--and which had, in the eye
of taste, a sort of holiness independent of Saints and Madonnas,--were
broken to pieces or burnt. The mosaic pavements of the chapels were torn
up; and the same brutal hands smashed the painted windows, which, almost
more than anything else, gave beauty and glory to our old abbeys and
cathedrals. The church-bells were gambled for, and sold into Russia and
other countries. Horses were tethered to the high altar; cattle were
kept in stall in the very recesses of the shrines and the chapels; and
these, according to good authority, were at times the least bestial of
the occupants.” “The libraries, of which all the great houses contained
one, numerously if not judiciously stocked,--but wherein existed, no
doubt, many a book in manuscript, which we would now willingly
possess,--were treated with the greatest contempt. And here we should
wonder why the enlightened men who promoted the Reformation did not
interfere, were we not convinced of the danger of opposing the king’s
will, and the ruffianly character of the persons to whom the task of
suppression and destruction was committed.” “Some books,” says Spelman,
“were reserved to scour their candlesticks, some to rub their boots,
some sold to the grocers and soapboilers, and some sent over the sea to
bookbinders--not in small numbers, but at times whole shipfuls, to the
wondering of foreign nations. A single merchant purchased, at forty
shillings a-piece, two noble libraries, to be used as grey paper; and
such as having already sufficed for ten years, were abundant enough for
many years more.” Such is the testimony of an eye-witness.[138]
All the abbeys were totally dismantled, except in those cases where they
happened to be the parish churches also, or where they were rescued in
part by the petitions and pecuniary contributions of the pious
inhabitants, who were averse to the worshipping of God in a stable.
Cranmer and Latimer in some cases petitioned the king; but, as it is
proved by their letters, they were too dependent on the court, and too
fearful of its wrath to do very much. Latimer was the bolder of the two;
and even before the final dissolution, he ventured to condemn in public
the practice, which Henry had already adopted, of converting some of the
monasteries into stables, conceiving it a monstrous thing that abbeys,
which were ordained for the comfort of the poor, should be kept for the
king’s horses! “What hast thou to do with the king’s horses?” retorted a
noble courtier of the right stamp--“Horses be the maintenance and part
of a king’s honour, and also of his realm; wherefore, in speaking
against them, ye are speaking against the king’s honour!”[139] The
following were the
Results.--The men who had recommended the wholesale spoliation of the
church, had represented it as a never-failing fund, which would enable
the king to carry on the government with none--or but the slightest
taxes; and which would furnish him with the means of creating and
supporting earls, barons, and knights, and of forming excellent
institutions for the promotion of industry, education, and religion.
But, in the event, the property was squandered in a manner which is
scarcely accountable; for the king had the conscience to demand from
parliament “a compensation for the expenses he had incurred in reforming
the religion of the state:” and within a year after the completion of
his measures, “the obsequious parliament voted him a subsidy of
two-tenths and two-fifteenths for this express purpose. It is a striking
fact, that none of the objects contemplated and spoken of were promoted
by the money of the religious houses--always excepting the making and
supporting of certain noblemen.”[140] Pauperism increased; as the whole
body of the poor, which had been supported by the monks, who had funds
for that purpose, were thrown, clamorous and desperate--unprepared for,
and unprovided with, employment--upon the wondering nation, which had
not before been aware of the extent of the evil. Education declined most
rapidly; the schools kept in the monasteries were at an end; while
other schools, and even the universities, were deserted. Religion was
not promoted; for nothing but miserable stipends were given to the
preachers, and none but poor and unlettered men would accept the office.
To preach at St. Paul’s Cross had been a great object of clerical
ambition; but now there was a difficulty of finding a sufficient number
of preachers for that duty: and about four years after the final
suppression, Bonner, Bishop of London, wrote to Parker, then Master of
Corpus College, importuning him to send him some help from Cambridge;
and not long after--during the short reign of Edward the Sixth--Latimer
said, “I think there be at this day ten thousand students less than were
within these twenty years.”
In the Country, “the rural parishes were served by priests who had
scarcely the rudiments of education.” Following an example set them by
the king--who required Cromwell to give a benefit to a priest who was
kept in the royal service, because “he had trained two hawks for his
majesty’s pastime, which flew and killed their game very well”[141]--the
patrons of livings gave them to their menials as wages or rewards; to
their gardeners, to the keepers of their hawks and hounds; or otherwise
they let in fee both glebe and parsonage; so that whoever was presented
to the benefice would have neither roof to dwell under, nor land to live
upon, being but too happy if his tithes afforded him a chamber at an
alehouse, with the worshipful society of the dicers and drinkers who
frequented it. According to Latimer, the parish priest, under these
circumstances, frequently kept an alehouse himself--thus uniting the
more profitable calling of a tapster with that of a preacher of the
gospel.[142]
So completely were the funds absorbed, and so greedy were the courtiers
to keep fast hold of what they got, that no proper recompense was
reserved for Miles Coverdale and his associates, who translated and
published the first complete English Bible--the greatest achievement of
the age, and the measure that most effectually promoted the Reformation.
Coverdale himself was left in great poverty; and the printers, in order
to cover their expenses, were obliged to put a high price upon their
copies--thus impeding the circulation of the book, and thwarting the
wishes expressed by the king himself.[143]
In addition to these lamentable facts, the destruction of the
monasteries left important gaps in the physical accommodations of the
people, which not a pound sterling of the spoil was devoted to fill up.
The monasteries had been hospitals, infirmaries, and dispensaries for
the poor; caravanseras to the wayfarer; and in the absence of inns, the
badness of roads, and the thinness of the population, their value in
this respect had been felt both by rich and poor. In many of the wilder
districts, the monastery had served as a nucleus of civilization; and
sociality, personal safety, and hospitality, were nowhere to be found
but within these walls.
[Illustration: C]RANMER deplored “the woeful dissipation of church
property, which he would have applied to the uses of religion,
education, and charity; but he had not often the courage to press this
subject with the king, whose displeasure, more easily excited than ever,
was equivalent to a death-warrant. The archbishop, however, did what he
could with safety to himself; and Henry, startled perhaps by a popular
outcry, resolved to appropriate a part of the spoil to the advancement
of religion. Parliament passed an act for the establishing of new
bishoprics, deaneries, and colleges, which were to be endowed with
revenues raised on the lands of the monasteries. But it was too late;
the money and lands were gone, or the king and his ministers needed all
that remained. The number of new bishoprics was reduced from eighteen to
six--those of Westminster, Oxford, Peterborough, Chester, Bristol, and
Gloucester; and these were so scantily endowed, that they hardly
afforded the new bishops the means of living.” At the same time fourteen
abbeys and priories were converted into cathedrals and collegiate
churches, with deans and prebendaries; but the king kept to himself a
part of the lands which had been attached to them, and charged the
Chapters with the obligation of contributing annually to the support of
the poor, and the repairing of the highways.[144]
The preamble of the act for the suppression of the lesser monasteries
thus concludes: “Whereupon the said Lords and Commons, by a great
deliberation, finally be resolved that it is, and shall be, much more to
the pleasure of Almighty God, and for the honour of this his realm, that
the possessions of such houses now being spent and wasted for the
increase and maintenance of sin, should be used and committed to _better
uses_, and the unthrifty religious persons so spending the same, to be
compelled to reform their lives.”[145]
Besides that at Canterbury, already noticed,[146] “other shrines had
been plundered, and certain miraculous images and relics of saints had
been broken in pieces at St. Paul’s Cross, and the machinery exposed, by
which some of the monks had deluded the superstitious people;” but now
every shrine was laid bare; or, if any escaped, it was owing to the
poverty of their decorations and offerings.
Among the rest of these condemned images, there was “a crucifix in South
Wales, called by the common people David-Darvel-Gatheren, which,
according to an old legend or prophecy, was one day to fire a whole
_forest_. It happened at this time that there was one Forest, a friar,
who, after taking the oath of supremacy, repented of the deed, and
declared it unlawful; wherefore he was condemned as a relapsed traitor
and heretic. Hitherto King Henry, ‘Defender of the Faith,’ had burned
the Reformers, and hanged the Catholics; but on the present occasion, he
could not resist the temptation to make a point, or to figure as a
mighty engine of fate, and a fulfiller of prophecy.” “The miraculous
image was accordingly conveyed from Wales to Smithfield, to serve as
fuel with faggots and other materials; and there, on the twenty-second
of May, 1539, the monk was suspended by the armpits; underneath him was
made a fire of the image, wherewith he was slowly burned--and thus by
his death making good the prophecy that the image should fire a whole
_forest_. There was a pulpit erected near the stake, from which Hugh
Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, preached a sermon; and there was also a
scaffold in the centre for the accommodation of the Dukes of Norfolk and
Suffolk, the Lord Admiral Howard, the Lord Privy Seal, Cromwell, and
divers others of the council; together with Sir Richard Gresham, Lord
Mayor, and many citizens of repute, who stayed to witness the frightful
execution.”[147] By frequent spectacles like this, the minds of the
people were brutalized to a degree previously unknown in England.[148]
From these revolting details of a fierce and persecuting spirit--a
spirit opposed in every sense to that of Christianity--we turn with
pleasure to the inspiring influence which monastic times and
institutions have been supposed to exercise over the dominions of poetry
and the fine arts; and of this Warton has transmitted us a glowing
sketch:--The customs, institutions, traditions, and religion of the
middle ages were favourable to poetry. Their pageants, processions,
spectacles, and ceremonies, were friendly to imagery, to
personification, and allegory. Ignorance and superstition, so opposite
to the real interests of human society, are the parents of imagination.
The very devotion of the Gothic times was romantic. The Catholic
worship, besides that its numerous exterior appendages were of a
picturesque, and even of a poetical nature, disposed the mind to a state
of deception, and encouraged, or rather authorized, every species of
credulity. Its visions, legends, and miracles, propagated a general
propensity to the marvellous, and strengthened the belief of spectres,
demons, witches, and incantations. These illusions were heightened by
churches of a wonderful mechanism, and constructed on such principles of
inexplicable architecture, as had a tendency to impress the soul with
every false sensation of religious fear. The savage pomp, the capricious
heroism, of the baronial manners, were replete with incident, adventure,
and enterprise; and the untractable genius of the feudal policy held
forth those irregularities of conduct, discordancies of interest, and
dissimilarities of situation, that framed rich materials for the
Minstrel-muse.
The tacit compact of fashion, which promotes civility by promoting
habits of uniformity--and therefore destroys peculiarities of character
and situation--had not yet operated upon life; nor had domestic
convenience abolished unwieldy magnificence. Literature, and a better
sense of things, not only banished these barbarities, but superseded the
mode of composition which was formed upon them. Romantic poetry gave way
to the force of reason and inquiry: as its own enchanted palaces and
gardens instantaneously vanished, when the Christian champion displayed
the shield of truth, and baffled the charms of the necromancer.
The study of the classics, together with a colder magic and a tamer
mythology, introduced method into composition; and the universal
ambition of rivalling those new patterns of excellence, the faultless
models of Greece and Rome, produced that bane of invention--imitation.
Erudition was made to act upon genius; fancy was weakened by reflection
and philosophy. The fashion of treating everything scientifically,
applied speculation and theory to the arts of writing. Judgment was
advanced above imagination, and rules of criticism were established. The
brave eccentricities of original genius, and the daring hardiness of
native thought, were intimidated by metaphysical sentiments of
perfection and refinement. Setting aside the consideration of the more
solid advantages, which are obvious, and are not the distinct subject of
our contemplation at present, the lovers of true poetry will ask, What
have we gained by this revolution? It may be answered, Much good sense,
good taste, and good criticism: but in the meantime we have lost a set
of manners, and a system of machinery, more suitable to the purposes of
poetry, than those which have been adopted in their place. We have
parted with extravagances that are above propriety; with incredibilities
that are more acceptable than truth; and with fictions that are more
valuable than reality.[149]
[Illustration: I]N addition to what has been already noticed in these
pages, respecting the employment of the monks within the walls of their
monasteries, and by which they daily contributed to the public good, we
present to the reader the following epitome of their industrial habits,
as recorded by monastic writers. In every conventual establishment there
was a chamber called the Scriptorium, or writing-room; but it was
sometimes applied to a more remote place, where there was room for other
employments. The only persons who had free access to this apartment were
the abbot, prior, sub-prior, and precentor. There was an especial
benediction of the Scriptorium. Writing of books, as a monastic
employment, is to be found in the earliest eras. Among British monks,
St. David, the tutelary saint of Wales, had a study, or writing-room,
and began the Gospel of St. John in golden letters with his own hands.
The Antiquarii in monasteries, were industrious men continually employed
in making copies of old books, either for the use of the monastery, or
for their own emolument. Du Cange says, that _Antiquarii_ were those
scribes who repaired, composed, and re-wrote books, old and obsolete
with age, in opposition to the Librarii, who wrote both new and old
books. Those of the religious community, who were found dull at the
study of letters, were employed in writing and making lines. The
monastic scribes were certain persons selected by the Abbot. The senior
monks were employed on the church books; the junior monks in
letter-writing, and matters which required expedition. Du Cange mentions
a singular kind of scribes, called Brodiatores, who wrote books and
letters in the manner of embroiderers, so lightly representing the
object that it almost escaped the sight. It is to such writers, perhaps,
that Petrarch thus alludes: “His writing was not wandering, nor loaded
like that of writers of our age, who flatter the eye from afar, and
fatigue it when near.”[150]
To the credit of the monastic scribes, “very few instances of bad
writing,” says the late Mr. Fosbroke, “have occurred during my
researches.” In one manuscript, indeed, there was a shocking scrawl,
which he took to be the writing of a nun, the lines being irregular, the
letters of various size, and of rude make. Writing, after the Norman
invasion, was neglected by the Anglo-Saxons. A neat running epistolary
hand is quite modern, except among papers written by lawyers. Hamlet
says--
“I once did hold it, as our statists do,
A baseness to write fair.”
The Gilbertine rule prohibited the employment of hired writers--more
probably, as Mr. Fosbroke thinks, limners. “At St. Alban’s, however,
such limners, or writers, had commons from the alms of the monks and
cellarer, that they might not be interrupted in their work by going out
to buy food.” These had the too frequent drunken habits of artisans, who
(‘because every man,’ says Johnson, ‘is discontented with his avocation,
from the obligation to pursue it at all times, whatever be the state of
his mind’) too often abuse relaxation. Barclay, without knowing that
stimulants--however injurious, in a prudential and medical view, and
never a good means--prevent, by the providential extraction of good from
evil, much hypochondriacal influence and tedium, which might end in
madness or suicide, says--
“But if thou begin for drinke to call and crave,
Thou for thy calling such good rewarde shalt have,
That men shall call thee malapert or dronke,
Or an abbey loune, or _limner of a monke_.”--ECLOGUE 2.[151]
Printing.--This invention occasioned the following results: The scribes
having less employment, there were few good artists of this kind, and
writing lost much of its former beauty. About the year 1546, when all
the religious houses had been dissolved, limners and scribes were
reduced to great distress for want of employment; for, besides printing,
engraving, “invented about 1460, superseded the illumination of initials
and margins. The last specimen was the sectionary of Cardinal Wolsey at
Oxford. Besides the rule, it was inquired whether the monks had made,
taken, and received the king’s age and succession, according to act of
parliament; for they were obliged to record these, and the births of the
royal family, as well as other public events.”
Bookbinding was generally very gorgeous; gold, relics, silver plate,
ivory, velvet, and other expensive adornments, were bestowed upon the
books relating to the church service--hence the vast amount of plunder
derived from this source alone at the Dissolution, when the Vandal
emissaries, hired for the work of destruction, stripped the sacred books
of their gold, silver, and jewels, and sold them to the highest bidder.
These ornaments, however, were not confined to the books of the Altar;
for we hear of a book of _Poems_, finely ornamented, bound in velvet,
and decorated with silver-gilt clasps and studs, intended for a present
to the king.
Books were written on purple vellum, in order to exhibit gold or silver
letters, and adorned with ivory tablets. The most common binding was a
rough white sheepskin, lapping over the leaves sometimes, with or
without immense bosses of brass, pasted upon a wooden board; and
sometimes the covers were of plain wood, carved in scroll and similar
work. There were formerly leaden books with leaden covers, and books
with wooden leaves.[152]
Music-schools, says Davies, were built within the church. Great pains
were taken with the pupils, who were instructed in the musical service
of the altar.[153] Music, says Giraldus, was so prevalent in the middle
age, that even _whistling_ became a fashion and amusement, from being
asked for by an archbishop. In his own time, as Erasmus informs us,
“they introduced into the church a certain elaborate theatrical species
of music, accompanied with a tumultuous diversity of voices. All,” says
he, “is full of trumpets, cornets, pipes, fiddles, and singing. We now
come to church as to a playhouse; and for this purpose ample salaries
are expended on organists, and societies of boys, whose whole time is
wasted in learning to sing,--not to mention the great revenues which the
church squanders away on the stipends of singing men, who are commonly
great drunkards, buffoons, and chosen from the lowest of the people.
These fooleries,” he adds, “are so agreeable to the monks, especially in
England, that youths, boys, &c., every morning, sing to the organ, the
Mass of the Virgin Mary, with the most harmonious modulations of voice;
and the bishops are obliged to keep choirs of this sort in their
families.”
Libraries.--Mr. Nichols has made the following excellent remarks upon
the library of Leicester Abbey:--From the catalogue it seems rather
doubtful whether, in the library of this religious house, there might be
any one complete collection of all the Holy Scriptures. Supposing
_Biblie_, in the first article, to have included both the Old and the
New Testaments, it was a tome defective and worn. The second consisted
of each book of the Old Testament only; and the third contained the
Gospels, without any mention of the Acts of the Apostles, of the
Epistles, or of the Apocalypse. There is, however, a second mention of
“_Actus Aplor’ gloss’_, _Apocalyps’ gloss’_, _Eple Pauli_ [but of no
other apostle] _gloss’_, _Eple Canonice_;” and among the last occurs the
“_Canticus Canticorum_.” Perhaps, he adds, there might be some of those
Augustine monks, to whom the divine oracles in the learned languages
would have been of little use; and yet to these was not indulged a
translation in English, there being in the Consistorial Acts at
Rochester, the minutes of a rigid process against the Precentor of the
priory of that cathedral, for retaining an English Testament,[154] in
disobedience to the general injunction of Cardinal Wolsey, to deliver up
these prohibited books to the bishops of the respective dioceses.[155]
It is worthy of remark, that Petrarch, as we learn from his “Memoires,”
whenever he made a long journey, carried his books along with him upon
extra horses, as carefully as others, passing through the Desert, carry
their provisions of daily food.
Leland’s story of the library of the Franciscans at Oxford has been
often told: it was only accessible to the warden and bachelors of
divinity; was full of cobwebs, moths, and filth; and contained no books
of value, the best having been surreptitiously carried away.[156] In the
monastic libraries the books were contained in painted presses or
almeries. In the _Abbatial_ libraries, according to the catalogues given
by Leland, there were only the following classics--Cicero and Aristotle,
which were common; Terence, Euclid, Quintus Curtius, Sidonius
Apollinaris, Julius Frontinus, Apuleius, and Seneca. From this disregard
of the classics--not to the shameful destruction only of the monastic
libraries at the Dissolution--probably ensued that loss of the Decades
of Livy, &c., which has been so justly lamented.[157]
Museum.--Adjoining the abbey library, says Erasmus, “was a certain small
but elegant museum, which, upon the removal of a board, exhibited a
fire-place if the weather proved cold, otherwise it appeared a solid
wall.[158] Coryatt saw a stuffed crocodile in an abbey”--the one
solitary specimen, perhaps, of Natural History.[159]
Upon the utility of profane learning in ecclesiastical studies, Petrarch
has thus emphatically expressed himself:--“I know by experience,” he
says, “how much human learning may contribute to give just notions, to
make a man eloquent, to perfect his morals, and, what is more, to
_defend_ his religion. If it be not permitted to read the poets and
heathen authors, because they do not speak of CHRIST, whom they did not
know, with how much more reason ought we to prohibit heretical works?
Yet the defenders of the Faith studiously peruse them. Profane
literature, like certain solid aliment, does not hurt a good stomach,
only a weak one. Reading, though wholesome to a sound mind, is poison to
a feeble intellect. I know that letters are no obstacles to holiness, as
some pretend. There are many roads to heaven. Ignorance is that which
the idle take. The sciences may produce as many saints as ignorance. And
surely we ought not to compare an ignorant devotion to an enlightened
piety.”[160]
Monastic Wit.--Speaking of the wit and humour that often enliven the
otherwise dull uniformity of monastic writings--“I met with the
following epigram,” says Mr. Fosbroke, “in a MS. of the Ashmole library,
of which I have never seen a copy; but as it was in a collection of
poems made in the sixteenth century, I cannot tell its age:”--
Marriage, saith one, hath oft compared bin
Unto a fest, where meet a public rout;
Where those that are without would fain get _in_,
And those that are within would fain get _out_.
Acrostics were known to the Greeks; but the monks used those of a
hieroglyphical kind, which could seldom be divined unless by aid of the
inventor himself. In the hollow stonework over the kitchen chimney of
Kingswood Abbey in Wilts--already noticed in this work--are a _T_iger,
_h_art, _o_strich, _m_ermaid, _a_ss, and _s_wan; the initial letters of
which make the name of the founder, T h o m a s.[161]
Abbey Seals.--That of Tinterne Abbey, as already noticed in this volume,
page 75, is imperfect.[162] Of ecclesiastical and monastic seals, those
of a _round_ form generally denoted, according to Lewis and Blomfield,
something of royalty in the possessor, or a more than ordinary extent of
jurisdiction. Monasteries of royal foundation had commonly round seals;
bishops and superiors of houses had usually oval seals; the former held
the pastoral staff in their left hands, abbots in their right. The
earliest conventual seals commonly bore mere rude representations of
their patron saints; the more recent were highly finished, the most
common device being the superior of the house praying to the patron
saint, who was represented as looking down upon him. Previously to the
reign of Edward the Third, the conventual seals represented their patron
saints and abbots seated upon thrones; but after this period, they as
constantly exhibited these figures sitting or standing beneath canopies
and arches. The Patron saint subduing and treading upon the dragon, was
symbolical of his overcoming sin. A star, the symbol of the Epiphany,
and a crescent of the increase of the Gospel, are frequently introduced
into the seals.[163] In the Cistercian and Premonstratensian orders, the
custody of the seal, though in general ill observed, was committed to
the prior, and four others of the establishment elected for that trust.
Abbeys had not only different seals for different purposes, but these
were often altered and changed; though, from the seal of Hyde Abbey
being worth fifteen marks, the expense of having them engraved must have
been extremely high. But so careless were the monks in the custody of
it, that Matthew Paris mentions that it was thrown aside among a chest
of papers. The abbot’s _Bajulus_, or domestic monk, was also the bearer
of this seal. A silver seal and chain--‘sigillum argenti cum
cathena’--is mentioned as that of a plain monk.[164]
Luxury.--With respect to luxuries--which in some monasteries, it was
alleged, were earned to a degree quite inconsistent with their professed
abstinence--Thomas Pennant, Abbot of Basingwerk, is said to have given
twice the treasure of a king in wine, and was profuse of more humble
liquors. The apartments for the reception of persons of quality,
according to Davies, were furnished in a most expensive and gorgeous
manner. But their profuse expenditure in wine, it must be remembered,
was in consequence of a too liberal hospitality; for, while the monks
themselves were restricted to a meagre diet, their guests, when men of
rank and influence, were plentifully regaled with whatever was best in
cellar and larder; and the whole country furnished no better cooks or
butlers than were to be found in conventual houses.
[Illustration: C]ISTERCIAN abbeys, according to Giraldus Cambrensis,
avoided all the bad consequences of _cells_, in the irregularities of
their inhabitants, by _having none_; and by remedying all defects by
visitors and chapters. Yet the Abbey of Kingswood, already noticed, was
a cell of Tinterne, and the scene of as many irregularities and abuses,
perhaps, as the cells of any other monastic order. The brethren who
stayed at cells were to be three in every place, or two at least. “In
food, in clothing, and the tonsure, they did not vary from the common
institution. They kept silence at table, and did not speak in the
church. They sung compline at an early seasonable hour, in summer and
winter; and did not run about the village or elsewhere.” It was thought
a great grievance to be sent to remote cells, or from cell to cell; and
scandalous tales were occasionally told of the licentious lives of some
of the monks, whom the abbots had sent thither for penance and
reformation.[165]
In reference to the introduction of Cistercian monks into England, we
annex the following from an old Chronicler:--“About this time,” says
he, “by means of one Stephen Hardyng, a munke of Sherburne, an Englyshe
man of the order of Sisteaux, or whyte munkes, had his beginning in the
wildernesse of _Cystery_, within the Provynce of Burgoyne, as witnesseth
Ranulph, munke of Chester: but other wryters, as Jacobus Philippus, and
the auctor of Cronyca Cronycorū, Matheolus, with other sayen, yᵗ this
Stephen was the second abbot of yᵗ place, and that it was founded by the
means of one Robert, abbot of Molynēse, in the yere of Grace,
M.lxxx.xviij, which, to follow their sayinge, shulde be in the ix yere
of yᵉ reyne of this Kynge” [Rufus.] “This order was after brought into
Englande by one called Walter Espeke, that founded the firste abbey of
yᵗ religion at Ryuall [Rivaux], about the yere of Grace xi.c.xxxi., the
which shulde be about the xxxi. yere of the firste Henry, than Kynge of
Englande.” This last is the correct date of the introduction of white
friars into this country, and he adds:--“Somewhat of their religion is
towched in the x chapitre of the vii boke of _Polychronicon_.”[166]
Abbey Windows.--Warton says the stem of Jesse was a favourite subject,
and Sugerius thus proves it: “I have caused to be painted a beautiful
variety of new windows from the first, which begins with the stem of
Jesse in the _caput ecclesiæ_, or part where the altar was erected. Any
miraculous events happening to persons were represented in their chapels
and churches in stained glass, or such as happened within the knowledge
of the erector. Common subjects were a genealogical series of
benefactors; arms and figures of donors of lights; the seven sacraments
of the Romish Church; many crowned heads, with curled hair and forked
beards, represent the Edwards, Richard the Second, and Henry the Fourth;
whole length figures with crowns and sceptres, Jewish kings, connected
with some Scriptural history, universally so when in profile.” The
principal subjects in the great window of Tinterne Abbey appear to have
been arms and figures of the founder, and of a series of benefactors.
The last fragment, after many years of desolation, was a shield of the
Bigod family.
Cowls.--With respect to the habit, it is recorded that many noblemen,
and others of high rank, gave directions that, after their decease, they
should be dressed in monk’s gear, and be thus consigned to the grave.
This was a very common practice in Wales; for as it was written, that
“all were monks who shall gain heaven, or rather that there were none
there but monks,”[167] it became necessary to assume the garb at least,
as a safe though surreptitious passport to those happy seats. It was
usual in some cases to wear the garb during sickness only, and lay it
aside on the return of health; in others, to keep it in reserve for
their death. Lewis, Landgrave of Hesse, said to his attendants--“As soon
as I am dead, put on me the hood of the Cistercian order; but take very
diligent care not to do so while I am living.”[168]
MSS., Books.--In addition to what has been already quoted on this
subject, it was long a proverbial saying, that a convent without a
library, was like a castle without an armoury. When the monastery of
Croydon was burnt in 1091, its library, according to Ingulphus,
consisted of nine hundred volumes, of which three hundred were very
large. “In every great abbey,” says Warton, “many writers were
constantly busied in transcribing, not only the service-books for the
choir, but books for the library.”[169] The Scriptorium of St. Alban’s
Abbey was built by Abbot Paulin, a Norman, who ordered many volumes to
be written there about the year 1080. Archbishop Lanfranc furnished the
copies. Estates were often granted for the support of the Scriptorium.
We find some of the classics written in the English monasteries very
early. Henry, a Benedictine monk of Hyde Abbey, near Winchester,
transcribed, in the year 1178, Terence, Boethius, Suetonius, and
Claudian. Of these he formed one book, illuminating the initials, and
forming the brazen bosses of the covers with his own hands. Other
instances of the same kind are added. The monks were much accustomed
both to illuminate and to bind books, as well as to transcribe them.
“The scarcity of parchment,” it is afterwards observed, “undoubtedly
prevented the transcription of many other books in these societies.
About the year 1120, one Master Heugh, being appointed by the monastery
of St. Edmondsbury, in Suffolk, to write and illuminate a grand copy of
the Bible for their library, could procure no parchment for this purpose
in England.” Paper made of cotton, however, was certainly in common use
in the twelfth century; though no evidence exists that the improved
kind, manufactured from linen rags, was known till about the middle of
the thirteenth.[170]
The pavement lately discovered in the Abbey Church of Tinterne, and
described at page 42 of this volume, forms an interesting relic of its
internal decorations. There is abundant proof, in the Norman centuries,
that mosaic work was adopted as an embellishment of the high altar, and,
as in the present instance, in the front of shrines. At first, these
pavements exhibited scripture stories, painted upon glazed bricks and
tiles of an irregular shape, fitted together as the colour suited, and
upon the same plan as the glass in windows. By an improvement in the
succeeding ages, the bricks, as in the specimen before us, were made
equilateral, and about four inches square; which, when arranged and
connected, produced an effect closely resembling the Roman designs, yet
wanting their simplicity and taste. The wreaths, circles, and single
compartments, retain marks of Gothic incorrectness, and of as gross
deviation from the original as the Saxon mouldings.
At what period heraldic devices were introduced cannot be ascertained
with precision; but it is probable that, when they were first carved or
painted upon escutcheons, or stained in glass, the floors received them
likewise as a new ornament. The arms of founders and benefactors were
usually inserted during the middle centuries after the Conquest, when
many of the greater abbeys employed kilns for preparing them, from which
the conventual, and their independent parish, churches were supplied.
Some writers have conjectured that the painted tiles were made by
Italian artists settled in this country; and it has been thought that
monks, having acquired the art of painting and preparing them for the
kiln in the manner of porcelain, amused their leisure hours by designing
and finishing them.
The altar-pavement here under notice is of an early period; but in those
of a later age, when the branch of encaustic painting had reached
perfection, the exquisite delicacy and variety of the colours--though
seldom of more than two--are particularly discernible. The use of these
painted bricks, or tiles, was confined to consecrated places, almost
without exception; and those discovered since the Reformation have been
all found upon the sites of convents, preserved either in churches or in
houses, to which tradition confirms their removal.[171]
Amongst the encaustic relics of a later date, family arms, impaled
and quartered, as well as scrolls, rebuses, and ciphers, are very
frequent. In the present instance, the tile exhibits a quartering of
the Clare and Bigod shields. In others, the arms are
interspersed with various devices, or single figures, such as griffons,
spread eagles, roses, fleurs-de-lis, &c., of common heraldic usage,
but not individually applied. It appears that in some instances they
formed a kind of tesselated pavement, the middle representing a maze,
or labyrinth, about two feet in diameter, so artfully contrived that
a man, following all the intricate meanders of its volutes, could not
travel less than a mile before he got from one end to the other. The
tiles are baked almost to vitrifaction, and wonderfully resist damp
and wear.[172] Actual tesselated pavements once existed. A manuscript
Anglo-Saxon Glossary, cited by Junius, says--“Of this kind of work,
mosaic in small dies, little is used in England. Howbeit, I have seen
of it a specimen upon church floors, before altars--as before the high
altar at Westminster--though it be but gross.”[173]
Abbey Wire-works.--Among the objects of local industry in Tinterne, to
which the stranger’s attention is usually directed, the Abbey Wire-works
are the most interesting. “These,” to quote the words of the late Mr.
Thomas, “as well as the stately pile in their vicinity, amongst whose
silent recesses the tourist has so often and fondly trodden, are also
the dominions of Art. But how widely different is the scene! Here she is
met with in her busy laboratory, controlling and directing the energies
of mankind, and seizing upon the very subjects of nature--the gurgling
water and the lambent flame--to make them tributaries to her ambitious
designs; whilst there, in the precincts of that ruined fane, she is
beheld indolently reclining in the flowery lap of her indulgent
rival--just as we have seen the wasted form of a lovely maiden pillowed
on the bosom of her elder sister, and gently languishing through the
departing hours of her insidious disease.”
It was in the seventeenth century, during the times of the Stuart
dynasty, that certain Swedish and German artisans, flying from
continental tyranny, were induced to seek an asylum within the pale of
the British constitution, and introduce into their adopted country the
art of forging wire. They were received with open arms; locations were
assigned them, denominated _Seats_; and a privilege of a vote in
parliamentary elections, with an exemption from taxes, were constituted
as part of the favours which our discerning government thought proper to
confer. Of these seats Tinterne was one from the very first immigration;
and here many of the descendants of the original settlers are still
employed in the handicraft of their forefathers. Of the methods used in
the manufacture of iron-wire before the introduction of improved
machinery, tradition has preserved the following outline:--
“A large beam was erected across the factory, to which were affixed as
many seats--in the form of large wooden scales--as there were men
employed, who were fastened in them by means of a girdle round their
bodies. The artificers were employed near each other, while between them
stood a piece of iron pierced with holes of different dimensions, for
reducing the wire to an appropriate size. The worked iron was heated;
the beam was put in motion by a water-wheel; and as the workmen swung
backwards and forwards, they passed and repassed the iron through the
holes described with forceps, until it was reduced by force to the
required diameter. The motion was regulated; and if any workman chanced
to miss seizing the iron with his forceps, he suffered a considerable
shock on the return of the beam.”
On the introduction of the improved system of wire factories, the nature
of the contracts between the principals and their workmen underwent a
necessary change. The struggle, however, was continued for some time,
but ultimately subsided in the adoption of the present plan, and the
alterations which it introduced. Under the management of the late Mr.
Thompson--whose mausoleum forms a conspicuous object in the adjoining
cemetery--the Tinterne Wire Works acquired a new impetus, which has been
successfully kept up by his able and intelligent successor.
Natural History.--On this interesting subject, we take advantage of the
following notes from the journal of the late Mr. Thomas of
Tinterne:--April 2d, half-past seven A.M. Notwithstanding a cold
north-easterly wind, with fugitive showers, I saw a nightingale, for the
first time this year, on the road to Chapel Hill, perched upon the
topmost branch of a budding thorn. He uttered one or two of those rich,
cheerful, metallic notes, so characteristic of his song; and quickly
returned to his busy search for food amongst the low bushes adjoining.
One of my friends informed me that he had listened to its music the
evening before; and another averred that he had heard the nightingale as
early as the second week of March. If these accounts be true, which I
have not the slightest reason to doubt, they seem to favour the idea
that some of these lovely songsters hibernate amongst us. Naturalists,
by common consent, name the last week of April as the period of their
ordinary arrival in this island. It seems probable, however, that those
which winter amongst us undergo some variation of plumage, which may
lead a cursory observer--if he did not pass them by unnoticed--to
confound them with the female redbreast, the hedge-sparrow, or some
other unpretending bird.
In point of song from Nature’s choristers, says an enthusiastic admirer
of the Wye, these woods might challenge all England. It is impossible to
enjoy a higher treat of the kind than the harmony of these little
warblers on a fine summer’s evening, when, on each side of the Wye, they
seem to vie with each other in the richness and fullness of their notes.
Mr. Heath had the following anecdote from Signor Rossignol, so
celebrated for his imitations of the feathered tribes:--“While at
Monmouth,” said he, “I often walked towards Hadnock at a late hour of
the night, for the purpose of comparing my own _notes_ with those which
I attempted to imitate. First, I began with those of the blackbird, when
every bird of that species within hearing would instantly awake as it
were with the rapture of day. Then came the thrush, next the
nightingale, and so on, until I had called forth the song of every bird
in the woods; and thus I continued to amuse myself for an hour together.
If, in the meantime, a traveller happened to be passing the road, he was
immediately forced to conclude that he had quite mistaken the time of
day!”[174]
Walnut-trees.--The Abbey appears to have been sheltered and enriched in
its prosperous days by extensive orchards; but of the lofty
walnut-trees, that formerly spread their luxuriant branches in its
vicinity, one only remains. These trees were of great age: under their
shadow many generations of monks and pilgrims had found shelter and
repose; but having long survived their patrons, and attained that fatal
majesty which insured their destruction, the axe was applied with
ruthless force to their stems; they were hewn down, burnt, or sold; and
the rich soil, from which they had derived their strength and fertility
for centuries, was converted into patches of cabbage and potato ground,
profusely bordered with weeds, and enlivened with pigsties that, to
imaginative tourists, perhaps, may recall the memory of Friar Bacon.
The Abbot’s Meadow.--“I have often felt incommunicable delight,” writes
Mr. Thomas, “in a walk southward along the meadows skirting the Wye.
During the bright summer evenings, the glorious sun tinges the summits
of the encircling hills with his oblique golden rays, while a gentle
breeze makes the ripening grass wave in elegant undulations. How sweet
at that pensive hour to sit upon the sedgy bank, and hear the artless
music of the feathery tribes! The reedwren chants his vesper-song; full
many a robin swells it by his perennial response; whilst the inimitable
thrush and tender cushat revive the thrilling echo on the distant
cliff.”
During this concert, “you turn round to behold the abbey embosomed
amidst apple-trees, and so singularly foreshortened that the beautiful
western window appears through the eastern. The entrance of the western
valley is at the same time so happily disposed, that the effulgent light
of the setting sun is seen through the roseate windows, gilding the
interior of the abbey with an unearthly brightness; whilst, to complete
the scene, multitudes of noisy daws are seen careering in fanciful
circles, high in the balmy air, before they retire to roost within the
mantling ivy of the ‘roofless house of God.’”
At such an hour how appropriate the lines:--
“When day, with farewell beam, delays
Among the opening clouds of even,
And we could almost think we gaze
Through golden vistas into heaven;
Those hues which mark the sun’s decline,
So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine!”--_Moore._
At length a poetic sound breaks upon the ear--the whetting of a scythe;
and how picturesque are the fields beyond! After passing through a
succession of luxurious meadows, you arrive at the humble and ivied
ruins of a Piscatory. This building is apparently of ancient date, and
was intended to supply the monastery during those numerous fasts in
which the good abbots were wont to exchange “the very best meat for the
very best fish.”[175] Soon after passing this ruin, the hitherto placid
Wye falls noisily over a broad and shallow weir, and the steep wood
encroaches upon its rocky bank. Our footsteps, therefore, pursue a
sinuous path through its deep and pensive shade, until we somewhat
suddenly emerge upon a tabular meadow, encompassed by an amphitheatre of
ivied rocks, a stupendous rampart, at whose base the Wye is winding,
and, at the same time, reflecting in its peaceful bosom the majestic
scene.[176]
Climate of Tinterne.--On this subject, a late intelligent medical
practitioner at Tinterne says:--“I may here remark, that I am
unacquainted with any warmer spot than this in England. Protected on the
north and west by a steep hill, it is open alone to the east and south:
it has therefore the sun upon it during the greater part of the day. On
the third of February, 1839, at half-past 2 in the afternoon,” he adds,
“while my thermometer on the mantel-shelf over the fire ranged at 60°,
it rose to 99° outside the door. At nightfall, which ushered in a severe
frost, the mercury fell to 44°. On the twenty-third of the same month,
at 3 o’clock P.M., the thermometer ranged at 109° Fahrenheit, or nearly
34° Reaumur; at half-past 11 at night, the mercury fell to 45° Fahr. On
the fifteenth of May, at 12.16 P.M., the thermometer on the mantel-shelf
indicated 50° Fahr. At 3 P.M. a violent snow-storm came on, succeeded at
nightfall by a nipping frost.” These facts sufficiently indicate
[Illustration: _The Door into the Cloister._
Tinterne Abbey.]
the capricious nature of the climate of Tinterne, where the transitions
from a winter to a high summer temperature, and _vice versa_, are so
frequent and remarkable.
Incidental Remarks.--During the plunder of this abbey church, which was
long carried on with impunity, many interesting relics of antiquity
appear to have been either mutilated, or carried off and sold. Among
other fragments of ancient art, was a brass hand grasping a spear, taken
from a tomb in the church in which was found a body entire, with
leathern buskins, and buttons on the coat; but which, on exposure to the
air, crumbled into dust. Human skeletons, we are told, were found in an
orchard to the eastward, formerly the abbey cemetery. From the size of
these--monks or soldiers--it was ascertained that their living owners
must have been considerably beyond the common stature. On the legs of
one of them were found cloth buskins in apparent preservation; while the
metal studs, or buttons, it is added, were almost bright. No coffins
were found; the bodies were simply deposited under large flat stones;
and were probably of an order inferior to those interred within the
church. Adjoining the north door, a portion of wall, long supposed to be
the side of a cloister, was at last stripped of the ivy that covered it,
and disclosed a range of fine Gothic windows.[177] And when the rubbish
that encumbered the entrance leading into the cross aisle was removed,
two stones were found inscribed with the following memorials:--
Hic jacet Johannes de Lynas.
Hic jacet Henricus de Lancaut.[178]
At the entrance by the west doorway a flight of steps was also
discovered, which at the time was supposed to communicate with a vault,
or crypt, under the church. But the passage was not explored; and the
stone with which the opening was originally covered, was restored to its
place. It is the opinion of antiquaries, however, that there is no
crypt, or vault, under the church. Of
Tinterne village, which still seems to derive its support from casual
visitors to the abbey, much cannot be said in commendation. Little, if
any improvement seems to have been made for many years, owing, we were
told, to the restrictions laid upon building. With encouragement in this
respect alone--or even with the ordinary accommodations of a spacious
inn[179]--the place might speedily change its complexion, and become a
cheerful and thriving hamlet. But, as in the days of Gilpin, it presents
nothing inviting. The penury of the inhabitants may be less remarkable;
“but they still occupy little huts raised among the ruins of the
monastery, and seem as if a place, once devoted to indolence, could
never again become the seat of industry.” “As we left the abbey,” says
he, “we found the whole hamlet at the gate, either openly soliciting
alms, or covertly, under pretence of carrying us to some part of the
ruins which each could show, and which was far superior to anything
which could be shown by any one else. The most lucrative occasion could
hardly have excited more jealousy and contention.” In the present day,
the duties of the abbey _cicerone_ are performed by a sensible and
well-informed guide, named Christian Payne.
Of the accommodations to be had at Tinterne Abbey in his day, Captain
Barber has left the following reminiscence:--“Having despatched an
attendant for a barber on my arrival at the inn, a blacksmith was
forthwith introduced, who proved to be the only shaver in the place. The
appearance of this man, exhibiting, with all the grim sootiness of his
employment, his brawny arms bare to the shoulders, did not flatter me
with hopes of a very mild operation; nor were they increased when he
produced a razor that, for massiveness, might have served a Polyphemus.
I sat down, however, and was plentifully besmeared with soap-suds. After
this he attempted to supply the deficiency of an edge, by exerting his
ponderous strength in three or four such vigorous scrapes as, without
exciting my finer feelings, drew more tears into my eyes than might have
sufficed for a modern tragedy. I waited no longer; but releasing myself
from his iron gripe, determined to pass for a Jew Rabbi, rather than
undergo the penance of another ‘shaving at _Tinterne_.’”
[Illustration]
Plan of the Abbey.--The following simplified description may probably
assist the reader to form a correct notion of the sacred and conventual
buildings, of which the abbey was originally composed; and of the
various compartments into which, in their former and perfect condition,
these were so admirably arranged and subdivided:--
Entering the church by the west doorway, the visitor passes along the
nave, with the “pillared aisles” on his right and left, and the
newly-discovered pavement. In the distance, and directly opposite, under
the great east window, is the high altar, as distinctly shown in the
engraved illustration. Moving along the nave, he observes five distinct
clustered pillars, surmounted by the magnificent arches, described in
these pages. At the commencement of the north and south transepts, he
will examine the bases of the four massive columns which formerly
supported the great central tower; the doors and windows of the
transepts; the sepulchral fragments scattered along the smooth grassy
parterre of the choir; then, at the north-west corner of the north
transept, he will ascend a few steps of a spiral staircase leading to
the top of the church; and, from the gallery which runs round within the
wall, look down on the scene before and beneath him. Descending to the
transept floor, he will enter a door near the angle where the nave and
north transept unite; and entering a passage northward, through a richly
ornamented doorway, he will observe the following apartments, viz.:--
The Cloister on the left, forming a considerable quadrangle, the sides
of which are of the same length as the nave of the church, on which it
closely abuts, running parallel with it to the west doorway, and
bordering the public road. Here, also, are some mutilated sepulchral
effigies of ancient abbots, crosses, &c., from which the inlaid brasses
have been sacrilegiously purloined. On the right hand of the visitor, as
he enters, is the ancient
Vestry, or sacristy, an oblong chamber, divided into two compartments,
the second of which opens by a doorway into the North Transept. Closely
adjoining this on the north, is
The Chapter-house, of the same form and dimensions as the vestry, but
not subdivided. Farther again on the right is a large hall, with the
remains of five central pillars that supported the arched stone roof,
supposed to be the ancient
Hospitium, or guest-chamber, already described in these pages. On the
east of this, and running parallel with it, are the remains of offices
or apartments--probably dormitories--the precise use of which has not
been ascertained. Beyond, eastward, lay the Cemetery. Adjoining the
Hospitium on the west, and connecting it with the Refectory, are several
small buildings, with the remains of other dormitories on the upper
floor. Immediately adjoining this, on the west, is the
Refectory, a spacious hall, in which the brethren, as already described,
sat at table. The _Lectern_, or pulpit-desk, at which a reader presided
during meals, is still visible about the middle of the west side. From
the refectory, a tourniquet-door, for the passage of viands only,
communicated with the kitchen; and close to this is the _dole_, where
the indigent and wayfaring poor were daily supplied with victuals and
refreshments. The kitchen runs parallel with the cloisters, and the west
entrance of the church, along the public road leading to the ferry.
The Scale annexed to the Plan of the Abbey--as shown by the
woodcut--will enable the reader to ascertain, with tolerable accuracy,
the dimensions of all the compartments named.
[Illustration:
1 Doorway leading into the Cloisters.
2 Effigies of Abbots--the brasses removed.
3 Door leading into the Vestiary and Sacristy.
4 The Chapter-house--bases of pillars.
5 Supposed Hospitium, or Guest-Hall--bases of central pillars.
6 Buildings, with dormitories in the upper floor.
7 The Lectern, or Reading-Desk, during meals.
8 Tesselated pavement, lately discovered.
9 Staircase leading to the Triforia, and top of the abbey.
10 Aperture for serving the dishes from the kitchen.
11 Dole, for the distribution of food to the poor.
Proportions.--Length of Chancel and Nave, 228 feet.
Length of Transepts across, 150 “
Height of the Tower Arches, 70 “
Height of the lesser Arches, 30 “
]
As a specimen of the marvellous connected with these ruins, we cannot
resist introducing another characteristic
Legend.--A party of gentlemen--_horresco referens_--who had inspected
the abbey, employed several labourers to dig in the orchard adjoining,
in hopes of discovering some antiquities. Part of one day and the
following night were spent in this employment, when at last they were
successful, and two human skeletons were discovered. Next day the same
party resolved to celebrate their discovery by a dinner in the abbey.
But scarcely had they commenced their sacrilegious repast, when a thick
darkness overspread the horizon; deep thunder raised its tremendous
voice, and shook the surrounding hills; lightnings flashed
[Illustration: _Tintern Abbey._
West Front.]
throughout the ruin in sheets of livid flame; hail, succeeded by
torrents of rain, deluged the plain, and
“Peal on peal
Crashed horrible, convulsing earth and heaven!”
During this sudden and tremendous visitation, the indignant spirit of
Strongbow--accompanied by the spectral forms of many whose death-sleep
had been thus wantonly disturbed--arose from the grave, and fixed his
eyes upon the petrified strangers. Then raising his gauntleted hand, he
pointed to the abbey door--which at the sight had mysteriously
opened--and sternly beckoned the impious visitors to depart! The awful
signal was instantly obeyed; and some crawling, others trembling--all
pale and speechless, the daring adventurers rushed from his presence,
they knew not how, and fled they knew not whither; while the savoury
viands left behind them were instantly swept over the abbey walls in a
whirlwind.
The Engraved Views of Tinterne Abbey.
I.--The West Entrance,[180] a beautiful specimen of Decorated Gothic;
the principal feature of which is the great west window, of which all
visitors and writers on this subject have expressed their unqualified
admiration. The stonework of this magnificent feature is nearly entire;
the five mullions, tall, slender, and elaborately moulded, retain their
original forms; and, terminating in the rich flowing tracery that fills
and completes the arch, appear as if they wanted nothing but the ancient
painted glass to restore the window to its primitive splendour. The ivy
inserting itself into every joint, and hanging in graceful festoons,
seems more like artificial garlands woven in honour of a fête day, than
as the sure emblem and evidence of dilapidation and decay. Beneath this
window is the richly-carved double doorway leading into the nave. On the
right hand is another window communicating with the southern aisle,
surmounted by a window of three compartments, and two buttresses
terminating in pinnacles, of which only one remains. On the left hand is
the north aisle, in form and dimensions exactly corresponding with the
former, but much less perfect. Closely adjoining this were the abbey
cloisters, the remains of which have been noticed in a former page.
II.--The Vale of Tinterne,[181] as it is seen from a point--in the woods
covering the left bank of the Wye--called the Devil’s Pulpit. This
engraving conveys a most correct, beautiful, and comprehensive view of
the abbey, and its circumjacent scenery. In the backgrounds is seen the
hill country stretching westward towards Monmouth. On the left, crowning
an eminence that overlooks the village and abbey, stands the church of
Chapel-hill, with the characteristic feature of an immense yew-tree
expanding its gloomy branches over the cemetery. Beneath is seen the
public road from Chepstow running westward, and branching off in the
village to right and left; the latter branch running along the hills
towards Raglan, and the former following the course of the Wye to
Monmouth. To the right, under the wooded rocks which appear to overhang
its channel, the Wye is seen making a curve like a horseshoe, so as to
form a peninsula, the outer rim of which, as described in the text, is
lined with houses that rise one above the other, and planted here and
there with tall poplars, and refreshed with numerous springs and
rivulets, that, after murmuring down the rocks, throw their crystal
tribute into the Wye. Here the river is seen enlivened with
passage-boats, by means of which a daily communication between the
villages above and below the abbey is kept open for the conveyance of
market produce, or the convenience of passengers.
In the foreground lies the glory of the scene--the abbey and its
appendages--the latter much curtailed; but once, as history informs us,
enclosing the goodly space of thirty-four acres. The view looks down
upon the conventual church, showing the nave and transepts in their
cruciform proportions, with the magnificent east window opening upon
some rich productive orchards, the ground of which was consecrated in
former times as the abbey cemetery. Stretching along the river eastward
is a luxuriant tract of pasture land, called the Abbots’ Meadows,
already described. Nothing can be more soothing and tranquil than this
scene, embosomed, as it is, among sylvan landscapes, and bordered by a
river whose smooth yet swift-flowing waters are heard in the calm summer
evening like distant music.
“And ever, as the summer sun goes down,
From bank to bank, amidst yon leafy bower,
The woodland songsters trill harmonious notes;
Till every tree that crowns the verdant steep,
Or shades the stream, that flows in amber light,
Sends forth its melody.”
III.--From the Chancel, westward.[182] This is justly considered to be
the most imposing view in the whole abbey; and is that to which every
stranger visiting the ruins is conducted at the close of his survey. The
point from which it is taken, is under the area of the great tower, near
the further angle of the north transept and chancel. Looking through the
lofty arches that supported the central tower, it takes in the west
window, the window of the north aisle, the nave, and on the right, the
doorway leading into the cloisters--of which an engraving is here
given--with the massive clustered pillars, lofty and delicately moulded
arches, in which an airy lightness, combined with strength and solidity,
strike the spectator with feelings of awe and admiration, to which it is
hardly possible to give expression--
“Silence sublime, and stillness how profound;
Yet every arch, with clustered ivy hung,
And every column, as thou gazest round,
Seems to address thee in thy native tongue;
Telling how first these mighty structures rose,
And how they fell beneath their Vandal foes.”
In the centre are the two sepulchral slabs, already described in another
portion of the text; and on the left, leaning against the base of one of
the pillars, is a mutilated statue, supposed to be that of Roger Bigod,
or Gilbert de Clare, as shown in the woodcut, page 41. In various parts
of the chancel, choir, and transepts, as well as in the nave and aisles,
many dilapidated fragments are collected in heaps; among which the
visitor will distinguish pieces of elaborate carving, particularly some
ingenious and fancifully sculptured bosses, the connecting ornaments of
the richly-groined roof that once overhung this gorgeous temple, and
echoed back the anthems of its assembled choir.
IV.--From the Ferry,[183] on the opposite or left bank of the Wye. On
the foreground is the landing-place, from which a road,[184] or
bridle-path, winding along the wooded heights, already noticed in our
description of the ‘Devil’s Pulpit,’ presents many picturesque, and some
romantic points of view. The river is here the boundary line between the
counties of Monmouth and Gloucester, or, anciently, between England and
South Wales. Directly opposite, and terminating the causeway leading up
from the ferry, is an archway, the ancient watergate of the abbey.
Through this gate the monastery received its supplies from the barges
that daily ascended and descended the river, or lay at anchor under the
protection of the abbey; for here, we were told, there is depth of
water--which is increased at every tide--sufficient to float vessels of
seventy tons burthen. The grove, which occupies the space between the
water and the abbey walls, consists chiefly of apple and pear-trees,
which form a continuous girdle of orchards round the abbey church, and
are particularly luxuriant and productive, on the site of the ancient
burial-ground. The ring of offices with which the abbey was originally
enclosed on nearly three sides, has almost disappeared, leaving only the
foundations, upon which, from time to time, mean hovels have been
hastily thrown together--ill adapted for the health, comfort, or even
convenience of human beings.
The prominent features of the abbey as seen from this point, and taken
in detail are--the nave, terminating in the great west window, with its
own five lancet-pointed windows rising above the trees; the north
transept, part of the south, and two windows of the chancel.
Following the course of the river eastward, richly-wooded rocks are
seen, closing the landscape, and commanding the minute and beautiful
view of the “Vale of Tinterne,” already given as an illustration. All
beyond the white sail on the stream is a scene of richly-wooded rocks on
the left bank, and on the right a wide expanse of smooth and verdant
meadows. The hills, immediately overlooking the abbey on the south,
possess the same picturesque character as those opposite, but are
enlivened by more frequent habitations, and with more traces of industry
and cultivation. The ferry-house, close to the watergate, presents some
features of antiquity; and stands, probably, on the old foundation of
what was occupied by the abbot’s Charon of the olden time. A glance at
the debris, under which some of the monastic buildings here lie half
buried, suggests an idea that, with due permission and encouragement,
antiquaries could hardly fail to discover excellent “diggings” in these
purlieus. But thus far the prying archæologist has been regarded with
suspicion and distrust, and condemned to look upon the antiquities of
Tinterne as treasures laid up for the benefit of future generations.
V.--Doorway leading into the Cloisters.--This beautiful specimen of art
is one of the very finest in the abbey. The elegance of the design is
only surpassed by the elaborate taste and skill displayed in its
execution. The clustered mouldings of the doorway; the wavy multifoil
outline of the inner arch; the beautifully carved ornament that
surrounds the whole like a riband of delicate lacework; the whole
crowned with the symbolic trefoil resting on the apex of the arch,
present a combination of features--all harmonizing, and all elaborately
adjusted to one another--rarely to be met with even among the
masterpieces of Decorated Gothic.[185]
Looking through this doorway, the window in the distance is that of the
southern aisle, through which are seen the woods on the opposite hill;
and inside the walls the ivy is seen climbing in verdant masses along
the arches and pillars of the nave. Under the broken steps, where the
group of figures is represented, are the remains of sepulchral
stone-slabs, covering the resting-place of the old abbots, and formerly
inlaid with the symbols of their holy office, as
[Illustration: _The Door from Cloister into Sacristy._
Tintern Abbey.]
represented in the engraving. But the _brasses_ have long since
disappeared, and left only the empty grooves to which they had been so
elaborately adjusted by the skilful artists of that day. Brasses, or
Latten, are considered to be good illustrations of the architecture of
their period, owing to the designs of canopies, crosiers, &c. delineated
upon them. They are seldom to be met with in any reign prior to that of
Edward the Second; nor did they become general till towards the close of
the fourteenth century, when the effigies are commonly surmounted by
arched canopies, ogee-shaped and crocketed, of the same kind of inlaid
work elaborately engraven. These subsequently vary, according to the
style of the age, and in general rather preceding than following it. Of
the brasses, which--owing to the rank and character of its founder and
benefactors, as well as its abbots and others--must have formed no
inconsiderable feature in the decorations of Tinterne Abbey, not a
fragment remains.
Where Latten marked the abbots’ grave,
And sculpture spread her trophies round it;
Rank weeds in wild luxuriance wave,
And mock the gaudy shrine that crowned it.
Here, they who for the Cross had died,
And they who led the way to glory--
Here mitred pomp, and martial pride,
Have not a stone to tell their story.
VI.--Doorway leading into the Sacristy.--This is a double doorway--a
specimen of the Early English--divided by a moulded shaft, with a
circular opening, or quatrefoil, over it. The outer arch is deeply
‘recessed,’ consisting of five or six successive shafts, or mouldings,
on either side, without capitals, and meeting above at the centre of the
arch. The inner arches are foliated, and the cusps richly fluted.
Clasping this elegant and massive structure, the ivy has so incorporated
itself with the masonry, that--massive as it is--art must gradually
yield to that natural process which seems to make every root of ivy, if
once insinuated between the jointed stones, act like a fulcrum for their
dislodgment--
“Ha, ha!” laughs the Ivy, “let men uprear
Their ‘Castles and Abbeys,’ far and near;
Pile upon pile, let their fabrics rise,
Darkening the earth, and mocking the skies;
Lifting their turrets so haughtily--
Boasting their grandeur--but what care I?
Buttress and bastion, cloister and hall--
_I conquer them all--I conquer them all!_”
VII.--The Refectory.[186]--Of this building enough remains to show,
that, in their palmy days, the Abbots of Tinterne had a truly noble hall
for their private and state entertainments. Of refectories in general,
some account has been already given at page 51 of this volume. Of the
style of architecture employed in this dining-hall, the numerous
windows, with their mullioned partitions, tall shafts, and foliated
arches, face-shafts, and corbel heads along the walls, from which sprang
the lofty groined vault that covered and connected the whole, present a
tolerably distinct picture.
“Along the roof a maze of mouldings slim,
Like veins that o’er the hand of lady wind,
Embraced in closing arms the key-stone trim,
With hieroglyphs and cyphers quaint combined,
The riddling art that charmed the Gothic mind.”
With regard to the minor details, we may notice the dole, a small double
aperture, near the archway on the left; and on the opposite side, is
another door through which the dishes were handed in from the kitchen.
Near the dole is a low-arched doorway in the eastern wall, showing the
passage by which communication was kept up with the adjoining offices,
the hospitium, the locutorium, and the dormitories. The situation of the
reading-desk, or lectern, will be seen by referring to the new plan of
the abbey here introduced; and this closes our notice of the engraved
illustrations.
* * * * *
“On the whole,” says Grose, summing up his observations on Tinterne,
“though this monastery is undoubtedly light and elegant, it wants that
gloomy solemnity so essential to religious ruins; it wants those yawning
vaults and dreary recesses, which strike the beholder with religious
awe--make him almost shudder at entering them, and call into his mind
all the tales of the nursery. Here, at one cast of the eye, the whole is
comprehended, nothing is left for the spectator to guess or explore; and
this defect is increased by the ill-placed neatness of the poor people
who show the building, and by whose absurd labour the ground is covered
over by a turf, as even and trim as that of a bowling-green, which gives
the building more the air of an artificial ruin in a garden, than that
of an ancient decayed abbey.”
“How unlike,” he adds, “the beautiful description of the poet!--
‘Half-buried there lies many a broken bust,
And obelisk and urn, o’erthrown by time,
And many a cherub here descends in dust,
From the rent roof and portico sublime;
Where reverend shrines in Gothic grandeur stood,
The nettle or the noxious nightshade spreads;
And ashlings, wafted from the neighbouring wood,
Through the worn turrets wave their trembling heads.’”
These objections have been repeated by other writers of unquestionable
taste; but we may venture to predict, that among the numerous strangers
who annually resort to these deserted shrines, few will return home
without expressions of unqualified admiration of “Tinterne, as it is.”
The care employed by its noble owner in arresting the progress of decay,
is creditable to his taste and reverence for antiquity. Had these ruins
been consigned, as some would have had them, to the wasting hand of
time, their vaulted wonders would long ere now have fallen piecemeal
into the area beneath; but wherever a stone is observed to be losing its
hold, the hand of art is immediately applied to restore it to its
original place: and thus, what might have passed away in a few inclement
seasons, has been propped up and secured for the delight of many
generations to come.
And lo, these mouldering fragments to sustain,
Her graceful network nature’s hand hath hung;
Bound every arch with a supporting chain,
And round each wall her living verdure flung;
And o’er the floor that sepulchres the dead--
The saints and heroes of departed years;
The flower of memory lifts its modest head,
And morning sheds her tributary tears.--_W.B._
* * * * *
Poetical Votaries.--Having quoted so largely from chroniclers and other
prose writers in the preceding pages, we must not quit the subject of
Tinterne Abbey, without selecting a few stanzas from those minstrels who
have sought and found inspiration on the spot. Wordsworth, from whose
poem on the Wye we have already quoted, addresses the following
Lines to a Cistercian Monastery.
‘Here man more purely lives, less oft doth fall,
More promptly rises, walks with nicer heed,
More safely rests, dies happier; is freed
Earlier from cleansing fires, and gains withal
A brighter crown.’ On yon Cistercian wall
_That_ confident assurance may be read;
And, to like shelter, from the world have fled
Increasing multitudes. The potent call
Doubtless shall cheat full oft the heart’s desire;
Yet, while the rugged age on pliant knee
Vows to rapt Fancy humble fealty,
A gentler life spreads round the holy spires;
Where’er they rise the sylvan waste retires,
And aëry harvests crown the fertile lea.
Tinterne Abbey on the Wye.
Sudden the change; at once to tread
The grass-grown mansions of the dead.
Awful to feeling, where, immense,
Rose ruin’d grey magnificence;
The fair wrought shaft all ivy-bound,
The tow’ring arch with foliage crowned,
That trembles on its brow sublime,
Triumphant o’er the spoils of time.
There, grasping all the eye beheld,
Thought into mingling anguish swell’d,
And checked the wild excursive wing,
O’er dust or bones of priest or king;
Or rais’d some Strongbow warrior’s ghost,
To shout before his banner’d host.
But all was still. The chequered floor
Shall echo to the step no more;
No airy roof the strain prolong,
Of vesper chant or choral song--
Tinterne! thy name shall hence sustain
A thousand raptures in my brain;
Joys, full of soul, all strength, all eye,
That cannot fade, that cannot die.--_Bloomfield._
Evening at Tinterne Abbey.
A pilgrim, at the vesper hour,
I stood by Tinterne’s hallowed tower;
While o’er the walls, in golden hue,
The setting sun its farewell threw;
Then, paling slowly, flushed and fled,
Like a smile from the cheek of the recent dead.
* * * * *
’Tis night--on the ivy-mantled walls
The shadows deepen, and darkness falls;
And forth from his roost, in the fretted aisle,
The solemn owl wheels round the pile;
But no lighted shrine, no vesper-song,
Is seen, or heard, these aisles among;
For hymnless now the day returns,
And voiceless sets on their nameless urns;
Nor laud, nor chant, nor matin chime,
Retard the fleeting steps of time.
* * * * *
The Shrine, from which the anthem rushed,
When evening glowed, or morning blushed,
Like them, who reared the pile on high--
A landmark pointing to the sky;
Like them, by slow and sure decay,
That shrine is crumbling o’er their clay.--_W.B._, 1848.
The Abbey by Moonlight.
I tread the moonlit abbey! Oh, my soul,
How nobly art thou struggling to be free,
Spurning the temple’s, and the world’s control,
And feeling most inadequate to thee
The loftiest dome, the grandest scenery;
O’er views that would oppress thee or appal,
Rising, like light bark o’er the mounting sea;
And where, if weak or mortal thou wouldst fall,
Expanding to survey and compass more than all!
Palace of Piety! Devotion here
Should wear a crownèd angel’s robe of white,
And antedate the ardours of a sphere,
Where all is tranquil as this noon of night!
The moon--the regal moon--intensely bright,
Shines through the roseate window of the west;
Each shaft, an artificial stalactite
Of pendent stone, with slumber seems oppressed,
Or with a charmèd dream of peaceful rapture blessed.
And through thy lofty arch, a single star
Is gazing from a depth of spotless blue,
As if to learn how soft thy splendours are,
And feel them deeply, as I fain would do!
While now supine upon thy pave of dew
I let thy loveliness my soul pervade,
And pass with unimpeded influence through
Its quiet depths, like moonlight through thy shade,
To haunt with beauty still that shrine of hopes decayed.
Forgive me, abbey of the watered vale--
Forgive that, when I feel my spirit swell
With an unwonted energy, I fail
To hymn thy desolated glories well!
Not yet the chrysalis has burst its shell--
Not yet expanded its immortal wings;
The restless rudiments of vast powers tell
The soul a deathless thing; from earth she springs,
But fast and feebly falls, the while of thee she sings.
_J. C. Earle, St. Edmund’s Hall, Oxford._
Tinterne Vesper-Hymn.
Like crimson on the dimpled Wye
Sleeps the glowing summer sky;
O’er the landscape, widely thrown,
Belted rock, and mountain cone;
Hamlet, tower, and haunted stream,
Are basking in the vesper-beam;
And holy friars, robed in white,
Cross them in the waning light--AVE MARIA!
Now, along the abbey walls,
Soft the purple _gloaming_ falls;
Aloft, on every turret’s height,
In the dim and doubtful light,
Here retiring, there advancing,
Weeds are waving, wings are glancing,
And yon effigies of stone
Seem to hail the vesper-tone--AVE MARIA!
Deeper yet, and deeper still,
From winding stream, and wooded hill,
Shadowy cliff and rippling _weir_,
Nature’s music fills the ear;
Notes of mingling praise and prayer
Float along the solemn air,
Where, from cloistered arches dim,
Swells the everlasting hymn--AVE MARIA!
Hark, ’tis midnight! but, unsleeping,
Here their faithful vigil keeping;
Pale white friars raise again,
In lengthened chant, the solemn strain!
Hark! throughout the sacred dwelling,
High the mingled notes are swelling;
Angels, stooping from the sky,
Bear the sacrifice on high--AVE MARIA!--_W. B._ 1849.
[Illustration]
Appendix.
Of the Abbots of Tinterne the historical notices are very scanty. The
following occur in the “Parliamentary Writs,” by Sir Francis
Palgrave:--[187]
A.D. 1294.--Abbas de Tynterne is summoned to a council of the
clergy, to be held before the King in person, at Westminster, on
the Feast of St. Matthias the Apostle, on the twenty-first day of
September, and twenty-second of Edward I. Again--
1295.--The Abbas de Tynterne is summoned to Parliament at
Westminster, on Sunday next after the feast of St. Martin,
thirteenth day of October, and twenty-third year of the reign of
Edward I., prorogued to Sunday next, before the Feast of St. Andrew
the Apostle, the twenty-seventh of November. Thirdly--
1296.--Summoned to Parliament at Bury St. Edmund’s, on the morrow
of All-Souls, November the third day, and twenty-fourth year of the
reign of Edward I.
1300.--Abbas de Tynterne--Letter of Credence addressed to him
concerning the expedition against the Scots--at Blith, the
seventeenth day of January, and twenty-eighth year of the reign of
Edward I. Again, the same year, the abbot was summoned to
Parliament in London, on the second Sunday in Lent, being the sixth
day of March.
1301.--Abbas de Tynterne is summoned to Parliament at Lincoln--in
eight days of St. Hilary--the twentieth day of January, and
twenty-eighth year of the reign aforesaid.
1305.--Summoned to Parliament at Westminster, on Tuesday, in
fifteen days of the Purification, the sixteenth of February;
afterwards prorogued to Sunday next, after the Feast of St.
Matthias the Apostle, the twenty-eighth day of February--but to
which he was not resummoned--and thirty-third year of the reign of
Edward I.
1316.--Abbas de Tynterne, certified pursuant to writ, tested at
Clipston, March the fifth, as one of the lords of the township of
Acle,[188] in the county of Norfolk, in the ninth year of the reign
of Edward II.
1316.--Johannes de Tynterne, certified in like manner, as holding
part of the burgh of Lyme-Regis, in the county of Dorset, in the
ninth year of the reign of Edward II.
* * * * *
The following is the original document referred to in various passages
of the foregoing articles on Chepstow and Tinterne:--
Genealogia Fundatoris (Ex MS. Codice in Bibl. Cottoniana [sub
Effigie Vitellii, F. 4], fol. 7).
Gunnora Comitissa Normanniæ duas habuit sorores, una Turulpho de
Ponte-Adamaro conjuncta erat in matrimonio, et procreavit Humfridum
de Vetulis qui fuit pater Rogeri de Bellomonte, ex quo comites de
Warwike et Leicestriæ processerunt.
Turketillus fuit frater istius Turulphi, cujus filius Hasculfus de
Harecurt aliam sororem predictæ Comitissæ Gunnoræ con ... erat duos
procreavit filios; scilicet Walterum de Giffard, primogenitum, qui
alium Walterum procreavit, et dictus fuit Walterius Giffard
secundus. Rohesia, una sororum Walteri (duas plures enim habuit)
conjuncta in matrimonio Ricardo filio comitis Gisleberti, qui in re
militari, tempore Conquestoris omnes sui temporis magnates
præcessit. Prædicta Rohesia supervixit et renupta Eudoni, dapifero
Regis Normanniæ qui construxit castrum Colecestriæ, cum cœnobio, in
honore Sancti Johannis, ubi sepultus fuit, cum conjuge sua, tempore
Henrici primi. Margareta filia eorum nupta fuit Willielmo de
Mandevill, et fuit mater Gaufredi filii comitis Essexiæ et jure
matris, Normanniæ dapifer. Prædictus Ricardus apud sanctum Neotum
jacet sepultus. Huic rex Willielmus concessit baroniam De Clare,
villam verò cum castello de Tunbridge, de Archiepiscopo
Cantuariensi, pro aliis terris in Normannia, perquisivit in
excambium. Baldwinus, frater istius Ricardi, Willielmum, Robertum,
et Ricardum, cum tribus sororibus genuit. Ex prædicta Rohesia hanc
sobolem procreavit Ricardus, Rogerus natu secundus terras patris
sui in Normannia adeptus est; Walterus dominium Wenciæ inferioris,
in Wallia, qui construxit Abbatiam de Tinterna, anno Domini MCXXXI;
obiit sine prole.[189]
The Deed, by which the privileges originally granted by the founders
were confirmed and completed by Roger Bigod, after the lapse of a
hundred and seven years, is expressed in the following terms:--
Rogerus le Bygod Comes Norfolciæ, et Mareschallus Angliæ, Salutem in
Domino. Noverit universitas vestra me intuitu Dei et pro salute animæ
nostræ, et animarum antecessorum nostrorum, et hæredum nostrorum,
concessisse et confirmasse Deo et ecclesiæ beatæ Mariæ de Tinterna,
Abbati et monachis et eorum successoribus ibidem Deo servientibus, in
liberam puram et perpetuam elemosynam, omnes terras et possessiones,
libertates, et liberas consuetudines subscriptas quas habent ex donis
antecessorum nostrorum et aliorum fundatorum seu donatorum, sive ex dono
nostro--videlicet: Totam hayam de Porcassek, et ex altera parte co
opertorium nemoris [~c] omnibus pertinentiis suis in bosco et plano, et
quicquid habet in Pentirk de tenementis terris redditibus boscis et
planis [~c] aliis libertatibus suis et totam terram de Modisgat [~c]
omnibus suis pertinentiis--videlicet: cum pastura ovium et aliorum
animalium suorum ubique in _chacia_ nostra de Tudenham, et de Subbosco
in dictu chacia quicquid eis necessarium fuerit ad ardendum et ad
_hayas_ claudendas, etc. His testibus domino Joanne le Bÿgod fratre meo:
Dom. Joanne le Bÿgod Stocton: Nicholao de Kingeston, militibus: Elya de
Aylbreton, tunc Seneschallo meo de Strugull: Philippe de Mora: Rogero de
Sancto Mauro: Willielmo de Dynam: Andreæ de Bellocampo, et aliis.
Datum apud Modesgat, quarto die Augusti, anno Domini M.CCCI.
* * * * *
AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to in the preceding article on
Tinterne Abbey and its vicinity:--Dugdale’s Monasticon and
Baronage--Thomas’s Tinterne--Camden--Giraldus Cambrensis--Robert of
Gloucester--Matthew Paris--William of Worcester--Fosbroke’s British
Monachism--Dallaway’s Arts--Reed--Barber--Mores Catholici--Life of
St. Bernard--French Monastic Writers--Annales et Usus
Cistercienses--Morton’s Monastic Annals--Nicolson’s History--West’s
Furness--Wonders and Traditions of Wales--Bp.
Godwin--Burnet--Pictorial Hist. of Engl.--Sir H. Ellis’s Original
Letters--Wilkins’s Concilia--Macaulay’s History--Blunt’s Sketch of
the Reformation--Latimer’s Sermons--Madden’s
Penalties--Warton--Taylor’s Index Monast.--Heraldic
Enquiries--Henniker--Cowel--Chronicles of England--Local historians
and poets--Gilpin--Heath--Barber--Thomas, whose work on “Tinterne
and its Environs” is the best hand-book that has yet appeared on
this locality--Notes taken by the Editor during a Tour on the
Wye--Hints and Suggestions from Correspondents, etc.
[Illustration]
On taking leave of Tinterne, we shall here introduce a short notice of--
Goodrich Castle, once a stronghold of the Marshalls, whose names have
been so often recorded in connection with the abbey. It stands on a
finely wooded promontory, round which the river Wye flows in a
semicircular direction. By whom it was originally founded is unknown,
though the near affinity of its name to that of ‘Godricus Dux,’ who
occurs as a witness to two charters granted by King Canute to the abbey
of Hulm, has given birth to a not improbable conjecture that he was the
founder. The Keep is evidently of a date antecedent to the Conquest; but
the surrounding works are principally Norman, though various additions
and alterations may be distinguished as the workmanship of different
periods, even down to the time of Henry VI.
In its general outline, this castle forms a parallelogram, with a round
tower at each angle, and a square ‘keep’ standing in the south-west part
of the enclosed area. The common thickness of the exterior walls is
somewhat more than seven feet; the length of the longest sides--that is,
those towards the south-east and north-west, including the projections
of the towers--is about 176 feet; and that of the south-west and
north-east sides about 152 feet.
[Illustration]
The keep stands somewhat in the same manner as those of Porchester,
Pevensey, and Castleton, close to the outward wall of the castle; and,
like them, it has no window on the outside next the country. It had
evidently three rooms or floors, one above the other; all of them,
however, were very small, being only fourteen feet and a half square;
and the room on the first floor had no sort of internal communication
with the dungeon beneath--which had not even a single loophole for light
and air, but was connected by a very narrow passage to a still smaller
dungeon, strongly secured under the platform belonging to the steps of
the entrance, and having a very small air-hole on the same side. “The
original windows are Saxon; that in the middle of the upper story seems
to have remained just as it was from the very first, without any
alteration; and the manner in which the two large side columns stand,
somewhat _within_ the arch, is consistent with the fashion adopted by
the Saxons, and continued even to the time of Edward the Confessor. The
large zigzag ornament on each side, between the columns, is in the rude
form in which it was generally used by the early Saxons; and so also is
that of the zigzag moulding, or band, that is carried by way of ornament
quite across the tower, just under the window; and it is very
remarkable, that the middle projecting buttress is carried no higher
than this ornament.”[190]--See the preceding wood-cut.
The window in the apartment beneath is similar in its general
construction; but the columns which support the arch are somewhat
higher, and a semicircular moulding of zigzag is carried beneath the
arch; the middle part of the window, however, has been altered--a stone
frame for glass having been inserted, of the style and age of Henry the
Sixth, and probably in the time of the celebrated Earl Talbot, whom
tradition represents as having his own chamber in this tower. In the
second apartment is a fire-hearth, and, in an angle of the wall, a
circular staircase leads to the upper story. “To this staircase is a
most remarkable doorway; it has one large transom stone, as if to aid
the arch to support the wall above, and in this respect it resembles
several other Saxon structures, in which this singular fashion seems to
have been uniformly adopted, until it became gradually altered by the
introduction of a flattish _under-arch_, substituted in the room of the
transom stone.”[191]
The principal entrance was by a flight of steps on one side, distinct
from the main building, and ascending to a platform before the doorway
leading to the second chamber. The entrance to the dungeon, or lower
apartment, was under “a very remarkable sort of pointed arch, formed of
flat sides, which seems, from the appearance of the wall around it, and
from its peculiar style, to have been inserted many ages after the tower
was built, and in the time of Edward III.; a suspicion that appears to
be most strongly confirmed, by the circumstance, that about the
twenty-second year of Edward the Third, Richard Talbot, its then lord,
obtained the royal license[192] for having in his castle a prison for
male-factors, having also the cognizance of pleas of the crown, &c.,
within his lordship of Irchinfield. The bottom of the keep-tower would
undoubtedly, as usual, be the place where such a prison would be
established; and on that occasion it should seem that this new and
strong door-frame was first constructed, whilst the very annexation of
the lordship of Irchinfield, or Urchenfield, to the possession of this
keep-tower, both of which his lordship appears to have been possessed of
before this license was granted, shows the exceedingly high antiquity of
this castle, since Urchenfield was, indeed, the very place where St.
Dubricius founded his college of Religious, about A.D. 512, to live,
like the original Eastern recluses, by the work of their own
hands.”[193] The body of the keep is an exact square of twenty-nine
feet.
In describing the additions made to this fortress in the Norman times,
and during the successive reigns to the time of Henry the Sixth, we
shall follow Mr. King, and begin with the strongly-fortified entrance,
which, commencing between two semicircular towers of equal dimensions,
near the east angle, was continued under a dark vaulted passage, to an
extent of fifty feet. “Immediately before the entrance, and within the
space enclosed by the fosse, was a very deep pit, hewn out of the solid
rock, formerly crossed by a drawbridge, which is now gone, but which
evidently appears to have exactly fitted, and to have closed, when drawn
up, the whole front of the gateway between the towers. About eleven feet
within the passage was a massive gate, the strong iron hinges of which
still remain: this gate and the drawbridge were defended on each side by
loopholes, and overhead by rows of machicolations in the vaulting. Six
feet and a half beyond this was a portcullis, and about seven feet
further a second portcullis; the space between these was again protected
by loopholes and machicolations. About two feet more inward was another
strong gate, and five feet and a half beyond this, on the right, a small
door leading to a long narrow gallery, only three feet wide, formed in
the thickness of the wall, and which was the means of access to the
loopholes in the eastern tower, as well as to some others that commanded
the brow of the steep precipice towards the north-east.” These works
appear to have been thought sufficient for general defence; but a
resource was ingeniously contrived for greater security, in case they
had all been forced: “for a little further on are many stone projections
in the wall on each side, like pilasters, manifestly designed for
inserting great beams of timber within them, like bars, from one side of
the passage, which was about nine feet ten inches wide, to the other, so
as to form a strong barricade, with earth or stones between the rows of
timber, which would in a short time, and with rapidity, form a strong
massy wall.” Beyond these the passage opened into the great inner court
of the Castle.
Chapel.--The ruins of the chapel run parallel with the entrance on the
left; the style of the broken ornaments, and particularly of those about
its great window, show this to have been repaired and adorned even so
late as the reign of Henry the Seventh. In one part is a very remarkable
niche, and near it a smaller one, for holy water. On the opposite side
is also another niche for the same purpose. Beneath the chapel was a
deep vault, and over it a chamber, with a fireplace, which still appears
projecting from the wall. Adjoining the chapel, and near the entrance,
is a small octagonal watch-tower, which rises above the other buildings,
and commands a fine view over the surrounding country.
The buildings between the chapel and the south or garrison tower, to the
upper part of which a passage, or covered-way, led along the top of the
outer wall, are mostly in ruins. Here appear to have been the stables.
The garrison tower adjoins the entrance to the keep; its foundation is a
square of about thirty-six feet; but the three outward angles diminish
as they ascend, and form triangular buttresses, so that the upper part
of the tower is circular. The walls are at least eight feet in
thickness. The entrances to this tower were so continued, that there was
access to it from every part of the walls. It contained three floors,
and in each of them a fire-hearth. The interior forms an irregular
octagon, about twenty feet in diameter from the angles, and about
seventeen from side to side.
Great Tower.--The wall that extended between the keep and the west tower
is in ruins. This tower, which is also greatly dilapidated, appears of
more modern construction than the former, and is probably of the time of
the Edwards. Its outward form is circular; but the interior is somewhat
of an octangular figure, but very irregular, its general dimensions
being thirty-three feet long, and twenty-five feet broad. In this
appears to have been the great kitchen; the fireplace is still
distinguishable, with a recess and loophole on each side. Here was a
small doorway, or sally-port, communicating with a sort of outer
_ballium_, which runs on the north-west side, and was enclosed by an
outer wall. On this side also, and ranging between the west tower and
the north or Ladies’ tower, were the state apartments.
The Hall was a magnificent room of the time of Edward the First, as
clearly appears from the style and architecture of its remains, and
particularly from its long, slender, and narrow windows. This apartment
was sixty-five feet long, and twenty-eight feet broad. Some years ago it
contained a single beam of oak, “without knot or knarle,” sixty-six feet
long, and nearly two feet square throughout its whole length. On the
north-west side is the great fireplace; and behind it, projecting into
the outer ballium, a vast mass of solid stonework, or buttress, which,
in its upper part, appears to have had some little apartment, or
guard-chamber. The hall communicated towards the north with a kind of
withdrawing or retiring room, about twenty-nine feet by seventeen and a
half, in which appears to have been a window looking into the hall. From
this second apartment, a passage led into what seems to have been the
great
State-room, which was fifty-five feet and a half long by twenty broad.
At the upper end, or towards the north, are two beautiful pointed
arches, springing from a well-wrought octagon pillar in the middle of
the apartment, and resting on corbels at the sides. Here seem to have
been two large windows; but the walls are so much broken, or closely
mantled with ivy, that this cannot with certainty be affirmed. The
architecture of this part of the building is of the time of Henry the
Fifth or Sixth. At the north angle of this room is an opening leading
into the north or Ladies’ tower, which is so situated on the brow of a
high and steep precipice, as to be the most defensible part of the
castle. From the apartment within, which is a neat octagon, about
fifteen feet in diameter, is a most beautiful view over the adjacent
country. From the common appellation of this tower, there can be little
doubt of its having been appropriated as a “Ladies’ bower.” Beyond the
state-room, in the north-east wall, is a square recess and loophole,
supposed to have been formed for the lodging and seat of the warden.
Such was the original construction of Goodrich Castle; but almost every
part has yielded to the iron tooth of age, and to the more speedy
demolition of war. The ruins, however, are extremely grand; the massive
towers are finely mantled with ivy; and even the great moat is
embellished with the luxuriant foliage of tall forest-trees. From the
adjoining woods the crumbling turrets have a very striking and
interesting effect; and seen from the water, the view has been truly
characterized as “one of the grandest upon the Wye.”
Whoever was the original founder of this Castle, “whether Godricus Dux,
who witnessed King Canute’s charters, or any chieftain prior to him,” it
is certain that the earliest authenticated record yet discovered, is of
A.D. 1204, when it was given by “King John to William Strigul, Earl
Marshall, to hold by the service of two knights’ fees.” His son Walter,
Earl of Pembroke--as noticed in a former page of this volume--died here
in December, 1245. It was afterwards conveyed by a female to William de
Valentia, Earl of Pembroke, whose third son, Aymer de Valence, became
his heir, and was murdered in France in 1323. From him it passed to the
Talbots, by the marriage of Elizabeth Comyn, daughter of Joan, his
second sister, with Sir Richard, afterwards Lord Talbot, who procured
the license from Edward the Third to have a prison here. This Richard
was a renowned soldier and statesman; and is thought to have expended a
considerable part of the ransoms, obtained from his prisoners taken in
the French wars, on the reparation and improvement of Goodrich Castle.
His descendant, John Talbot, the great Earl of Shrewsbury, who was
killed at the battle of Castillon, in the year 1453, was first buried at
Rouen; and in enumeration of his titles on the monument raised to his
memory, he is styled “Lord of Goderich and Orchenfield.” His successors
were equally distinguished for bravery, and were frequently employed in
offices of great trust. George,[194] the sixth earl, had the custody of
Mary, Queen of Scots, committed to his charge. That these places were
really alienated is improbable, as Gilbert, seventh Earl of Shrewsbury,
was in possession of this castle and manor at the period of his death in
the 14th of James the First. Elizabeth, his second daughter and
co-heiress, conveyed them in marriage to Henry de Grey, Earl of Kent, in
whose family they continued till the year 1740, when, on the death of
Henry, Duke of Kent, they were sold to Admiral Griffin.
In the civil wars between Charles I. and his Parliament, Goodrich Castle
was alternately possessed by both parties. It was first seized by the
Parliamentary army; but afterwards fell into the hands of the Royalists,
who sustained a siege of nearly six weeks against Colonel Birch. The
colonel began the siege on the 22nd of June, 1646. On the third of
August, as appears from Whitelocke, “Colonel Birch entered some of the
works of Gotherich Castle, whereupon the garrison hung out a white flag
for parley, which Birch refused, and went on storming, until they all
submitted to mercy. In the castle, besides the governor, were 50
gentlemen and 120 soldiers, with arms, ammunition, and provisions.” On
the twenty-fifth the Parliament gave orders that the Countess of Kent
should be informed that there was a _necessity_ for demolishing the
castle; and that “on the demolishing thereof, satisfaction should be
made to her. On the first of March following, they finally resolved that
the castle should be totally disgarrisoned, and _slighted_. The breaches
of the Ladies’ tower, which is the most effectually ruined, were said to
have been chiefly occasioned by the battering of the cannon during the
siege.”[195]
RAGLAN CASTLE,
Monmouthshire.
“Stranger! ponder here awhile;
Pause in Raglan’s ruined pile;
All that wealth and power, combined,
With skill to plan, and taste refined,
To rear a structure fit to be
The home of England’s Chivalry,
Was lavished here!--where, met in hall,
Mailed Barons kept their festival;
The night in lordly wassail spent--
The day in tilt and tournament:
Yet still, when England’s woes began,
Were first to arm and lead the van;
To shield the Monarch in his need,
In Freedom’s glorious cause to bleed;
To Loyalty surrendering all--
Then, with their falling King to fall!”
The Castle of Raglan is one of the most picturesque ruins in the
kingdom, and closely associated with a momentous period of our national
annals. Though roofless, tenantless, and dismantled, it still presents a
majestic and venerable aspect. No visitor of taste or sensibility will
ever traverse its spacious but long-deserted halls, without feeling a
deep interest in its eventful history.
It was on a bright autumnal evening that we quitted the comfortable
little inn, the “Beaufort Arms,” at Raglan, to make our first survey of
this baronial stronghold; and at that hour, and season of the year, it
was seen through its embowering trees in all its glory. Ascending the
gentle eminence on which it stands, we came to the outer gate, or
barbican, portions of which still remain, and crossing the _ballium_,
now covered with rich verdant pasture, we were received by the
intelligent Warden, who conducted us to the majestic gateway, and
pointed out to us, as we proceeded, the more imposing features of the
Castle, as they alternately met and receded from the eye.
[Illustration: _The Avenue._
Raglan Castle.]
The vista through the Gateway, taking in the Great Court--once adorned
with statues and fountains, but now, like everything around it,
abandoned to the weather, is very striking; while the absolute silence
which pervades the scene, contrasts forcibly with its ancient stir and
splendour, and compels us, while fancy is peopling it with troops of
chivalry and their retainers, to exclaim, “Where are they?” A long
wooden table with benches, the last symbols of that hospitality for
which its noble owners were once conspicuous, stood on the grassy floor.
But these were no relics of the ancient banquet-hall, but of a modern
festive meeting, when the tenants upon the estates had met to express
their attachment to the noble Marquess and his family. The manner in
which the kitchen had been refitted for their entertainment, showed that
it must have been ‘got up’ in a style not unworthy of its feudal renown;
and, “as for the venison,”--
“Finer or fatter
Ne’er ranged in a forest, or smoked on a platter.”
We arrived, however, too late for the feast, though another, a much
simpler, and palatable treat awaited us--that which Nature, luxuriating
amidst the ruins of Art, had lavishly spread before us. Such piles of
masonry, such masses of ivy, were never before brought together! Here
and there, indeed, the sturdy ramparts looked through their leafy screen
with a sort of ghastly whiteness, like Hobbes’ spectre from behind the
yew-tree, or the bones of some enormous skeleton, upon which the kindly
hand of Nature had suspended her own green mantle. Nothing could be more
strikingly novel and picturesque. Along the vast framework of the
castle, on which the wealth and taste of centuries had been employed,
until its strength and beauty could receive no farther additions from
the hand of man, a straggling forest of vegetation expanded its mingling
branches. Under the same leafy covert, from the timid wren to the
ill-omened raven, birds of every feather had found a congenial roost.
From the sepulchral yew the moping owl looked out upon everything around
her as her own domain and cherished inheritance. Over our heads bats
performed their swift circles in the still twilight sky; while daws
chattered from the ancient keep, as if they had never heard a
musket-shot, nor felt the slightest apprehension of being disturbed in
their possession. On a lofty spray that overtopped every other tree, a
loving thrush serenaded his mate in the fragrant thicket below. Numerous
smaller birds, that seemed puzzled from the very abundance of the
accommodation where to fix their roost, kept up a constant fluttering
amongst the branches; while here and there was heard a bickering of
wings and twittering of bills, as if contending for possession of some
favourite branch for the night. Surely, we thought, there is room enough
here for all; and yet even there--among those spacious green arbours,
place and position were as eagerly sought and coveted by the feathered
tribes, as by the equally volatile and jealous retainers of a court.
At length all was seemingly adjusted; the stillness of night pervaded
the scene; the last shadows of twilight had faded into one common pall;
and night, attended by a host of sparkling satellites, took quiet
possession of the long line of courts that once swarmed with life and
enjoyment.
And now, between the western sky--that still retained some warm
lingering traces of sunset--and the donjon tower, mousing owls were seen
enjoying their solemn pastime, here swimming lazily through the arched
court, then along the battlements, or the margin of the clear glassy
moat; then soaring aloft, and settling for a minute or two among the
dark ivy; but still returning to make another circle and finding no
wings abroad but their own.
The contemplation of this Castle, at any period of the day, is
calculated to make a lasting impression; but when the rising moon shot
her mellow light through its old shattered casements, and the breeze
seemed to waken at the same instant and set all the ivy in motion, the
scene became still more impressive. Among the deep shadows that invested
the spacious courts, every prominent object was now brought suddenly
into view; and, with a little aid from fancy, the waving of plumes, and
the flashing of steel armour, seemed distinctly visible on the
battlements; while the fragments of crumbling masonry that lay scattered
below, as if struck by an enchanter’s wand, presented the semblance of
animated groups, that waited only the word of command to start into life
and motion. The stillness, too, which but half an hour before had
pervaded every court and tower, was succeeded by a soft rustling among
the leaves, that now flickered like quicksilver as the moonlight fell
upon them, and then lost itself in their massive branches; whilst the
shrubs and flowers that grew wild and vigorous in every court, or
clambered up the walls and archways, seemed to give forth their mingled
odours to the night wind, as it passed wooingly through their leaves,
and filled the air with incense.
“We seemed to tread on faëry land;
For, in every thing around us,
We felt the touch of a viewless hand,
And we heard the notes of a seraph band,
Whose magic spell had bound us;
While bright yclad, as in days of yore,
The Knight of Raglan strode before.”
The Pitched-court; the hall of state, with its magnificent bay-window;
the chapel; the fountain-court, with the grand staircase on the south
side opening upon it; then the elegant portal leading to the grand
terrace that overlooks Raglan church, were all traversed in succession,
with nothing to distract attention, or disturb the solitude, but the
whistle of a night-hawk, or the sound of our own footsteps on the
grassy carpet, that now forms the universal ‘pavement’ of these once
sumptuous apartments. For over the once tesselated floor, and the
tapestried walls, weeds have thrown an oblivious mantle, while--
“Ha, ha!” laughs the Ivy, “old Time to me
Hath given the glory and mastery!
So poets may sing, if it like them well,
From early matins till vesper bell;
And others may list to their minstrelsie--
I’ve a song of my own--so what care I?
Your castles, though stately, and strong, and tall,
_I_ conquer them all--_I conquer them all_!”
But as the faint outline here sketched will be filled up when we take
the architectural features of the Castle in detail, we pass on to a few
preliminary remarks.
[Illustration: Ancient armour.[196]]
Grose, in his ‘Antiquities,’ observes that this castle is of no great
antiquity, having been founded, as he conjectures, about the close of
the fifteenth century, although many important additions were
subsequently added. In the time of Henry VIII., as Leland informs us,
Raglan, “yn Middle Venceland [Wentland], was a fair and pleasant castel,
with to goodlye parkes adjacent;” and “the laste Lord Herbertes,” as
Morgan told him, “builded all the best coffes of the Castle of Raglan.”
Camden, in his account of the Silures, or Monmouthshire, notices it very
briefly, as “a fair house of the Earl of Worcester’s, built
castel-like.”[197]
It is not stated by Grose on what authority he places Raglan Castle
among the strongholds erected in the time of Henry VII. His observations
can apply only to those portions of it which are comparatively modern.
The Citadel, or Yellow Tower of Gwent, is of unquestionable antiquity.
In the family history we are told that Sir John Morley, a military
knight, who lived in the time of Richard II., resided here as ‘lord of
Raglan Castle.’ But postponing this question at present, as one that
will be considered more fully when we come to examine the Castle in
detail, we shall merely observe that although, as it now appears, the
Castle does not indicate any more distant origin than the reign of Henry
V., yet traces may be discovered in various portions of towers built, or
reconstructed, during every subsequent reign, down to that of Charles
I.--with whose fate it is so painfully associated. Owing to the
circumstance named, the learned antiquary may discover ‘a disunion of
styles;’ but taken as a whole, the Castle of Raglan presents a
remarkable harmony of proportions that hides every minute discrepancy,
heightens the general effect, and leaves the spectator under a pleasing
conviction that, in design and execution, it is the work, not of many,
but of one master mind. But to this subject we shall return; and, in the
meantime, we proceed to give a brief sketch of
The Founders of Raglan.--By Mr. Jones the name of the founder is traced
to that of Sir William ap Thomas.[198] This date, however, is too
modern, and only a repetition of the conjecture thrown out by Grose.
There is every reason to believe that the Clares, as early as the
thirteenth century, had a castle at Raglan, the site, of which is now
occupied by the Citadel, or Tower of Gwent, erected probably in the
reign of Henry V. The above-named Sir William ap Thomas resided at
Raglan Castle during the reign of Henry V., who knighted him for his
valour in the wars of France. He married Gladys, daughter of Sir Richard
Gam, and widow of Sir Roger Vaughan,[199] by whom he had three sons and
a daughter. Of his eldest son, William, first Earl of Pembroke, we shall
speak hereafter. But of the old military Lords of Raglan, little of
historical interest has descended to modern times. From Richard
Strongbow, of whom a notice has been given in the preceding sketches of
Chepstow and Tinterne, Raglan descended to Walter Bloet, “in
consideration of soldiers, money, and arms,” furnished by him for the
expedition to Ireland, of which Strongbow was the leader. By the
marriage of the daughter and heiress of Bloet with Sir James Berkeley,
it passed into and remained in that ancient family until the reign of
Henry V., when it became vested in Sir William ap Thomas, already
mentioned; whose eldest son was created by Edward IV. Lord of Raglan,
Chepstow, and Gower, and commanded to assume the surname of Herbert, in
honour of his ancestor Hubert Fitz-Henry, chamberlain to King Henry I.
To this nobleman was entrusted the care of the Earl of Richmond,
afterwards Henry VII., who was for some time a prisoner in Raglan
Castle. Sir Hubert was created, in 1469, Earl of Pembroke, in
acknowledgment of his zeal to the house of York; but his career was
brief and disastrous, for having the same year raised a corps of
Welshmen, he marched against the Lancastrians under the Earl of Warwick,
and being taken prisoner at Dane’s Moor, was beheaded at Banbury on the
27th of July.[200] Of these calamitous events, the following account,
abridged from the old Chronicle, may not be unacceptable to the
reader:--
“King Edward hearing of these Northerne proceedings, and that his
brother and Warwicke were preparing against him, sent for the Lord
Herbert, whom he had created Earl of Pembroke, to be his general in the
North; and therefore accompanied with Sir Richard Herbert his brother,
and eighteen thousand well-furnished Welshmen, marched towards the
enemy; and after him was sent Humfrey Lord Stafford, with sixe thousand
archers, to second him in his warres. These lords meeting together had
notice by espials that the Northerne made towards Northampton; to
intercept whom, the Lord Stafford, lately made Earl of Devonshire, was
employed; and Sir Richard Herbert, who with two thousand horse layd
themselves covertly by the side of a wood, and suddenly set upon the
rereward, the rest having passed; but the Northerne very nimbly turned
about and bad the Welshmen such welcome, as few of them returned to tell
of their entertainment. The king understanding of this hard beginning,
mustered his subjects on every side, intending to cope with the
Northerne himself. And Earle Warwicke, as forward to advance his
fortunes, gathered his friends, with purpose to encounter with Pembroke
and his Welsh. But before any supplies came to either of them, it
chanced the armies to meete unawares upon a fair plaine called _Dane’s
Moor_, neere to the towne of Hedgecot, three miles from Banbury, and
presently fell to a bickering, wherein Sir Henry Nevill, knight, son of
the Lord Latimer, upon a lusty courage venturing somewhat too farre, was
taken prisoner; and notwithstanding he yielded himselfe to his takers,
was cruelly slaine; which unmartiall act rested not long unrepaied, with
the loss of most of the Welsh next day. For the field withdrawne, the
Lord Stafford repaired to Banbury, and there took his lodging, where his
affections were much enamoured vpon a faire damsell in the inne. But the
Earl of Pembroke coming to the same towne, tooke into the same inne,
and commanded the Lord Stafford to provide himself elsewhere, contrary
to their agreements made before. Whereat Stafford was displeased, and
departing thence with his whole band, left the Earl naked of men in the
towne, and disabled the field of the archers, whereby the day was lost
upon the king’s part, for which he shortly lost his owne head. The
Northerne, inflamed for the death of young Nevill, the next morning most
valiantly set upon the Welshmen, and by the force of archers drave them
from their ground of advantage, which Pembroke wanting supplied with his
own prowess; and Sir Richard, his brother, with his poll-axe twice made
way through the battell of the Northerne without any mortal or deadly
wound; so that by their valours it was verily supposed the field had
been wonne, had not John Clapham, an esquire and servant to Warwicke,
displayed his lorde’s colours with his white beare, and from an eminent
place cried, ‘_A Warwicke! A Warwicke!_’ Whereat the Welsh were so
terrified as they turned and fled, leaving their general and his brother
alone in the field, who, valiantly fighting, were encompassed and taken,
with the death of five thousand of their men. The Earl with his brother,
Sir Richard Herbert, were brought to Banbury, where, with ten other
gentlemen, they lost their heads, Conyers and Clapham being their
judges.
“This second victory thus got, and the Northerne men now fleshed under
the leadinge of Robbin of Riddesdale,[201] hasted to the king’s manor of
Grafton, where the Earle Rivers, father to the queen, then lay, whom,
with his sonne John, they suddenly surprised, and in Northampton strucke
off their heads without any judgment. The death of these lords the king
greatly lamented, and sought to revenge: first, therefore, writing his
commissions for the apprehension of Humfrey, Lord Stafford of
Southwicke, who, by diligent search, was found at Brentmarsh, and
beheaded at Bridgewater, as he worthily deserved. Next hee prepared a
mighty army, and with the same marched towards Warwicke, his company
encreasing ever as he went.”[202] In another Chronicle the same
disastrous events are thus related:--
“The Welshmen got first the West hill, hoping to have recovered the East
hill; which if they had obteyned the victorye had been theirs, as their
unwise prophesyers promised them before. The Northern men encamped
themselves on the South hill. The Erle of Pembroke and the Lord
Stafforde of Southwike were lodged at Banbery yᵉ day before yᵉ field,
which was St. James’s Day; and there the Erie of Pembroke put the Lord
Stafforde out of an inne wherein he delighted much to be, for the love
of a damosel that dwelled in the house, contrarie to their mutuall
agreement by them taken; which was, that whosoever obtained first a
lodging, should not be deceyved nor removed. After many great wordes and
crakes had betweyne these two captaynes, the Lord Stafforde in great
despite departed with his whole companye and band of archers, leaving
the Erle of Pembroke almost desolate in the towne, which with all
diligence returned to his hoste lying in the field unpurvoyed of
archers, abiding such fortune as God would sende and provyde.” In the
mean time, “Sir Henry Nevil, son to the Lord Latimer, tooke with him
certaine light horsemen, and skirmished with the Welshmen in the
evening, even before their campe, where he did divers valyaunt feates of
armes; but, a little too hardy, he went so farre forward that he was
taken and yeelded, and cruell slaine; which unmerciful acte the Welshmen
sore rued the next day or night. For the Northern men being inflamed,
and not a little discontented with the death of thys nobleman, in the
mornyng valyauntly set on the Welshmen, and by force of archers caused
them quickly to descende the hill into the valey, where both the hostes
fought.”
In this hot encounter, “the Erle of Pembroke behaved himselfe like a
hardy knight, and an expert capitaine; but hys brother, Syr Richard
Herbert, so valyauntly acquited himselfe, that with his poll-axe in his
hand, as his enemies did afterwards report, he twice by fair force
passed thorough the battaile of his adversaries, and without any mortal
wound returned. If everye one of his felowes and companions in arms had
done but halfe the actes which he that daye by his noble prowess
achieved, the Northerne men had obteyned neither safetie nor victorie.”
The chronicler then relates the circumstance which threw the Welshmen
into a panic, by which they lost five thousand men, and then records the
result with touching simplicity:--
“The Erle of Pembroke, Sir Richard Herbert,[203] his brother, and divers
were taken, and brought to Banbery to be behedded. Much lamentacion and
no lesse entreatie was made to save the lyfe of Syr Richard, both for
hys goodlye personage, which excelled all men there, and also for the
noble chivalrie that he had shewed in the fielde the day of the
battaile; insomuch that his brother, the Erle, when he should lay downe
his head on the blocke to suffer, says to Sir John Conyers and
Clapham--‘_Maisters, let me die! for I am old; but save my brother,
which is yung, lustie, and hardie, mete and fit to serve the greatest
prince of Christendome._’
“But Coniers and Clapham remembering the death of the yung knight, Syr
Henry Nevill, cosyn to the Erle of Warwicke, could not hear on that
syde; but caused the Erle and his brother, with divers other gentlemen
to the number often, to be there behedded.”[204]
[Illustration]
William, eldest son of this unfortunate nobleman, succeeded to the
earldom of Pembroke, and was retained by the king to serve him in his
wars of France and Normandy for one whole year, with forty men-at-arms
and two hundred archers. But the king, being desirous to dignify his son
Prince Edward with the title of Earl of Pembroke, procured a resignation
of the same from this William, and in lieu thereof created him Earl of
Huntingdon, on the fourth of July, 1479. Four years later he was
constituted, by Richard III., Justice of South Wales, and entered into
covenants with the king to take Dame Catharine Plantagenet, his
daughter, to wife, before the feast of St. Michael following; as also to
make her a jointure in lands to the value of two hundred pounds per
annum: the king undertaking to settle upon them and their heirs male,
lands and lordships of a thousand marks per annum. But this lady dying
in her tender years, it is likely that this marriage did not take
effect. He afterwards wedded Mary, the fifth sister of Woodville, Earl
Rivers, by whom he had an only daughter, at whose marriage with Sir
Charles Somerset, the Castle of Raglan, and its dependencies, passed
into the family of Worcester.
From the genealogical history of that house we collect the following
particulars:--The Sir Charles here named was a natural son of Henry,
third Duke of Beaumont, famous in his day for his desperate assault of
the Castle of St. Anjou, in which he put three hundred Scots to the
sword, and hanged all the Frenchmen therein. He was afterwards Governor
of the Isle of Wight, and of Calais; was finally taken prisoner at the
battle of Hexham, and there beheaded by Nevil for his adherence to the
house of Lancaster. At his death his son Charles assumed the name of
Somerset, and being a person of abilities attained to great wealth and
honours under Henry VII.,[205] who entered him of his Privy Council,
made him Constable of Helmsley Castle, Admiral of the Fleet, sent him as
ambassador with the Order of the Garter to the Emperor Maximilian, made
him a Banneret, Knight of the Garter, and Captain of the Royal Guard. On
a second embassy to Maximilian, he concluded two treaties--gave a bond
for the payment of £10,000 in aid of the Emperor against the Turks, and
in support of the Christian religion. Living in high favour with his
sovereign, his good fortune was established by his marriage with
Elizabeth, heiress of William Herbert, Earl of Huntingdon, in whose
right, in 1506, he bore the title of Lord Herbert of Raglan.
On the accession of Henry VIII. he continued in the same high offices;
and having, with six thousand men, attended the king into France, in
1513, he was present at the taking of Therrouenne and Tournay. For his
heroic conduct in this campaign, he received the office of Lord
Chamberlain for life; and finally, on account of his descent from John
of Gaunt, and alliance to the king by blood, he was advanced the
following year[206] to the dignity of Earl of Worcester.
By his will, dated March 24, 1524, he ordered his body to be buried
beside that of his first wife in the chapel of Our Lady, now called
Beaufort Chapel, in the Castle of Windsor. He directed that, in case he
departed this life at Raibo, in London, or near the river Thames, his
body should be conveyed by water to the said church at Windsor, as
privately as might be, without pomp or great charge of torches, or
clothing, hearse, wax, or great dinner; but only that twenty men of his
own servants should each have mourning and bear a torch; and that the
bier, or herse, should be covered with black cloth, and have a white
cross upon it.
Henry, the second Earl of Worcester, who, during his father’s lifetime,
had distinguished himself in the king’s service, and been knighted by
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was appointed one of the commissioners
for concluding a peace with the French. Departing this life in 1549, he
was buried in the church of Chepstow, where a costly monument--already
noticed--was erected to his memory.[207]
William, his eldest son, and third Earl of Worcester, accompanied the
Marquis of Northampton into France, to present King Henry II. with the
royal insignia of the Garter. And again, in 1573, he was sent by Queen
Elizabeth as her representative at the christening of a daughter of
Charles IX., on which occasion, in the name of his royal mistress, he
presented a font in pure gold. He married Christian, daughter of Lord
North of Earthlodge.
Edward, his only son and heir, was sent ambassador to the Court of
Scotland, to offer the Queen’s congratulations to King James on his
return from Denmark; and ten years later he was appointed Master of the
Horse. At the accession of King James, he continued in the same office,
and was also named one of the commissioners for executing the office of
Earl-Marshall, the Duke of Norfolk being then under sentence in the
Tower.[208] He was afterwards Lord Privy Seal; and dying on the third of
March, 1628, ætatis 79, was buried in the family vault in Windsor
Castle.[209]
In his youth, as recorded by his colleague Sir Robert Naunton, “this
earl was a very fine gentleman, and the best horseman and tilter of his
times, which were then the manlike and noble recreations of the Court,
which took up the applause of men, as well as the praise and
commendation of ladies. And when years had abated these exercises of
honour, he grew then to be a faithful and profound counsellor. He was
the last liver of all the servants of her favour, and had the honour to
see his renowned Mistress, and all of them, laid in the places of their
rest; and for himself, after a life of very noble and remarkable
reputation, he died rich, and in a peaceful old age--a fate that befel
not many of the rest; for they expired like lights blown out--not
commendably extinguished--but with the snuff very offensive to the
standers by.”[210] Sandford describes him as “a great favourer of
learning and good literature.”
[Illustration: Procession.--Morning of the Tournament.]
Henry, his son, the fourth earl, married Anne, daughter of John Lord
Russell, heir apparent to the Earl of Bedford; and, in 1642, was
created Marquess of Worcester. And this brings us down to the period,
when the family fortunes--like the fortress they inhabited--were
destined to undergo a lamentable change.
As the civil commotions increased, the Marquess fortified his castle of
Raglan, and there entertained his Sovereign with unbounded magnificence.
Such were his unlimited sacrifices to the royal cause, that the king,
fearing lest the garrison stores should become exhausted by his numerous
suite, offered to invest him with powers to exact supplies from the
neighbouring country. But with great magnanimity Worcester replied--“I
humbly thank your Majesty; but my castle would not long stand, if it
leant upon the country. I had rather myself be brought to a morsel of
bread, than see one morsel wrung from the poor to entertain your
Majesty.” But of this more fully when we describe the royal visit and
the Siege.
From these brief introductory notices of the lives and services of the
primitive lords of Raglan, we proceed to give a few sketches of life, as
it generally passed in the retirement of their own domains, in the midst
of their friends and retainers at Raglan Castle.
Baronial Life.--Of the expenses of a nobleman’s family and household in
the olden time, some idea may be formed by adverting to the facts
adduced by writers of the day. In a letter from the Earl of Shrewsbury,
who had the custody of Mary of Scotland, to the Marquis of Winchester,
and Sir Walter Mildmay, it is said--“May it please you to understand,
that whereas I have had a certain ordinary allowance of wine, amongst
other noblemen, for expenses in my household, without impost: the
charges daily that I do now sustain, and have done all this year past,
well known by reason of the Queen of Scots, are so great therein, as I
am compelled to be now a suitor unto you, that you will please to have a
friendly consideration, unto the necessity of my large expenses. Truly
_two tuns in a month_ have not hitherto sufficed ordinarily; besides
that which is sacrificed at times for her bathings, and such like use;
which seeing I cannot by any means conveniently diminish, my earnest
trust and desire is, that you will now consider me with such _larger_
proportion in this case, as shall seem good unto your friendly wisdoms,
even as I shall think myself much beholden for the same. And so I commit
you unto God. From Tetbury Castle, this 15 of January, 1569. Your
assured friend to my power.--G. SHREWSBURY.”[211]
“This passage,” Mr. Lodge observes, “will serve to correct a vulgar
error, relating to the consumption of wine in those days, which, instead
of being less, appears to have been--at least in the houses of the
great--even more considerable than that of the present time. The good
people who tell us that Queen Elizabeth’s maids of honour breakfasted on
roast beef, generally add, that wine was then used in England as a
medicine, for it was sold only by apothecaries. The latter assertion,
though founded on a fact, seems to have led to a mistake in the former;
for the word apothecary [from the Greek αποθήχη, _a repositorium_] is
applicable to any shopkeeper, or warehouseman, and was probably once
used in that general sense.”[212] In the retinues and domestic
attendance[213] of the nobles of this period, everything proclaimed that
the era of feudal authority and magnificence had departed. Accordingly,
when the civil wars had commenced, no peer, however wealthy or high in
rank, could drag after him a regiment, or even a company, of unwilling
vassals to the field. On the contrary, the meanest hind was free to
choose between king and parliament. Something, however, of the mere pomp
of feudalism was still maintained in the domestic establishments of the
nobility and wealthier gentry. “The father of John Evelyn, when he was
sheriff of the counties of Surrey and Sussex,[214] had _a hundred and
sixteen servants, in liveries of green satin doublets_, besides several
gentlemen and persons of quality, who waited upon him, dressed in the
same garb.”
One of the largest, if not the very largest, of English establishments
ever maintained by a subject, was that of the Lord Treasurer, the Earl
of Dorset,[215] heir of the Lord Buckhurst, and well-known poet of the
court. It consisted of _two hundred and twenty servants_, besides
workmen attached to the house, and others that were hired occasionally.
The chief servants of the nobility--so they were called, but they were
rather followers or clients--were still the younger sons of respectable,
or even noble families, who attached themselves to the fortunes of a
powerful patron, and served him either in court or military affairs,
for which they were allowed separate retinues in men and horses, with
gratuities in money, and promises of promotion.[216] The progress of
improvement that had banished minstrels, jugglers, and tumblers, from
princely establishments, had naturally introduced the drama in their
room; and, accordingly, we sometimes find a company of actors classed
among the servants of the chief noblemen, as well as a family physician,
or even a whole band. A steward, distinguished by a velvet jacket, and a
gold chain about his neck, presided as marshal of the household, and
next to him was the clerk of the kitchen. But these cumbrous appendages
were daily lessening, as domestic comfort came to be better understood.
This improvement, however, had commenced still earlier among those of
less rank and pretension. All who had their fortune still to seek in the
court, or in the army, and all who repaired to the metropolis in quest
of pleasure, found, so early as the time of Elizabeth, that the bustle
and the scramble of new and stirring times, made a numerous train of
attendants an uncomfortable appendage. The gallant, and the courtier,
therefore, like Sir John Falstaff, studied “French thrift,” and
contented himself with a single “skirted page,” who walked behind him
carrying his cloak and rapier.[217]
In consequence of the extravagant living introduced during this period,
the spendthrift gentleman often sank into the serving-man, as we may see
from the frequent recurrence of such a transformation in the old plays.
When servants were out of place--as we learn from the same authentic
pictures of the real life of the times--they sometimes repaired to St.
Paul’s Churchyard, the great place of public lounge, and there stood
against the pillars, holding before them a written placard, stating
their peculiar qualifications, and their desire of employment.[218]
“But whatever retrenchment,” observes the same author, “might be making
in the household expenditure by a diminished attendance, it was more
than counterbalanced by an extravagance in dress, and personal ornament,
that had now become an absolute frenzy.” It is said that King James
almost daily figured in a new suit, a humour that soon became prevalent
among his courtiers. Still more generally influential than his own
example was that of his several handsome favourites, all of whom having
been indebted for the royal favour merely to their personal attractions,
spared no pains nor cost to give those natural advantages their full
effect.[219]
When Buckingham was sent ambassador to France, to bring the Princess
Henrietta to England, he provided for this important mission a suit of
white uncut velvet and a cloak, both set all over with diamonds, valued
at eighty thousand pounds, besides a feather made of great diamonds. His
sword, girdle, hatband, and spurs, were also set thick with diamonds.
Another suit which he prepared for the same occasion, was of purple
satin, embroidered all over with pearls,[220] and valued at twenty
thousand pounds. In addition to these, he had twenty other dresses of
great richness. As a throng of nobles and gentlemen attended him, we may
conceive how their estates must have been impoverished by the purchase
of chains of gold, ropes of pearl, and splendid dresses, befitting the
retinue of such an ambassador. Even a court festival, of the time of
James the First, must have made a perilous inroad upon a year’s amount
of the largest income. Thus, at the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth
to the Palatine, Lady Wotton wore a gown profusely ornamented with
embroidery, that cost _fifty_ pounds a yard; and Lord Montague spent
_fifteen_ hundred pounds on the dresses of his two daughters, that they
might be fit to appear at court on the same occasion.[221]
The following letter--which we quote from a work of great merit and
research--unfolds much of the domestic ‘economy’ and habits of a family
of distinction during this reign. It is addressed to William, second
Lord Compton, by his wife, soon after their marriage:--
“My Sweet Life--Now I have declared to you my mind for the settling of
your state, I suppose that it were best for me to think and consider
within myself what allowance were meetest for me. I pray and beseech you
to grant to me, your most kind and loving wife, the sum of £2,600,
quarterly to be paid. Also, I would, besides that allowance, have £600,
quarterly to be paid, for the performance of charitable works; and these
things I would not, neither will be, accountable for. Also, I will have
three horses for my own saddle, that none shall dare to lend or borrow:
none lend but I; none borrow but you. Also, I would have two
gentlewomen, lest one should be sick, or have some other let. Also,
believe it, it is an undecent thing for a gentlewoman to stand mumping
alone, when God hath blessed their lord and lady with a large estate.
“Also, when I ride a hunting or a hawking, or travel from one house to
another, I will have them attending; so for either of these said women,
I must and will have for either of them a horse. Also, I will have six
or eight gentlemen; and I will have my two coaches, one lined with
velvet to myself, and four very fair horses; and a coach for my women,
lined with cloth and laced with gold; otherwise with scarlet, and laced
with silver; with four good horses. Also, I will have two coachmen, one
for my own coach, the other for my women.
“Also, at any time when I travel, I will be allowed not only _caroches_
and spare horses for me and my women; but I will have such carriages as
shall be fitting for all; orderly, not pestering my things with my
women’s; nor theirs with either chambermaids; nor theirs with washing
maids.
“Also, for laundresses, when I travel, I will have them sent away before
with the carriage, to see all safe. And the chambermaids I will have go
before, that the chamber may be ready, sweet, and clean. Also, for that
it is indecent to crowd up myself with my gentleman-usher in my coach, I
will have him to have a convenient horse, to attend me either in city or
country. And I must have two footmen. And my desire is that you defray
all the charges for me.
“And for myself, besides my yearly allowance, 1 would have twenty gowns
of apparel, six of them excellent good ones, eight of them for the
country, and six other of them _very_ excellent good ones. Also, I would
have, to put in my purse, £2,000 and £200, and so you to pay my debts.
Also, I would have £6,000 to buy me jewels, and £4,000 to buy me a pearl
chain. Now, seeing I have been, and am, so reasonable unto you, I pray
you do find my children apparel and their schooling; and all my
servants, men and women, their wages.
“Also, I will have all my houses furnished, and my lodging-chambers to
be suited with all such furniture as is fit; as beds, stools, chairs,
suitable cushions, carpets, silver warming-pans, cupboards of plate,
fair hangings, and such like. So, for my drawing-chambers, in all
houses, I will have them delicately furnished, both with hangings,
couch, canopy, glass, carpet, chairs, cushions, and all things thereto
belonging.
“Also, my desire is that you would pay your debts, build up Ashley
House, and purchase lands: and lend no money, as you love God, to my
Lord Chamberlain, who would have all--perhaps your life--from you.... So
now that I have declared unto you what I _would_ have, and what it is
that I _would not_ have, I pray you, when you be an earl, to allow me
£2,000 more than I now desire, and double attendance.”[222]
Prodigality in feasting and riotous living soon became as conspicuous as
extravagance with regard to dress. In proof whereof, we may mention the
ante-suppers of the epicurean Earl of Carlisle. Weldon informs us, that
he gave a banquet to the French ambassador at Essex House, where fish of
such huge size were served up, and which had been brought all the way
from Russia, that no dishes in England could hold them, until several
were made for the express purpose. The household expenditure of James
the First was twice as much as that of his predecessor, amounting to a
hundred thousand pounds annually.[223]
Country Life.--While such were the habits of the courtiers, the country
aristocracy still followed that kind of life so much familiarized to our
minds by the descriptions in the old songs and plays of “the golden days
of good Queen Bess.” The rural knight, or squire, inhabited a huge
building--half house, half castle--crowded with servants in homespun
blue coats, many of whom were only serviceable in filling up the blank
spaces of the mansion; but as these had been born in his Worship’s
service, it was held as a matter of course that they should live and die
in it.
“The family rose at daybreak, and first of all assembled at prayers,
which were read by the family chaplain. Then came breakfast; after which
the master of the household and his sons got into their saddles, and
went off to hunt the deer, followed by some score of mounted attendants;
while the lady and her daughters superintended the dairy, or the
buttery, prescribed the day’s task for the spinning-wheels, dealt out
bread and meat at the gate to the poor, and concocted all manner of
simples for the sick and infirm of the village. If leisure still
remained, the making of confections and preserves was a never-failing
resource; independently of spinning and sewing, or perhaps embroidering
some battle or hunting piece, which had been commenced by the housewives
of a preceding generation.”
At noon dinner was served up in the Great Hall, the walls of which were
plentifully adorned with stags’ horns, casques, antique brands, and
calivers. The noisy dinner-bell, that sent the note of warning over the
country, gave also a universal invitation and welcome to the hospitable
board; and after dinner sack, or home-brewed ‘October,’ occupied the
time until sunset, when the hour of retiring to rest was at hand.
Such was the ordinary history of a day in the country mansion. When the
weather prevented out-door recreation or employment, the family library,
containing some six or eight tomes, that had perhaps issued from the
press of Caxton, or Wynkyn de Worde, was in requisition; and, if the
members of the family could read, they might while away the hours in
perusing these volumes for the twentieth time. In this fashion, they
derived their knowledge of religion from the Bible, and the “Practice of
Piety;” their Protestantism and horror of Popery from “Fox’s Acts and
Monuments;” their chivalrous lore from “Froissart’s Chronicles,” or,
perchance, the “Merry Gests of Robin Hood;” their historical erudition
from “Hall” or “Hollingshed;” and their morality and sentiments from
“the Seven Wise Masters,” or the “Seven Champions of Christendom.”[224]
Holidays.--In such a state of life the set holidays were glorious eras;
the anticipation, the enjoyment, the remembrance of a single Christmas
or birthday, furnished matter for a whole month of happiness. On such an
occasion the lord of the manor was more than a king, as he proceeded
with his family through the crowds of assembled peasants, to witness
their games of merriment, and feats of agility or strength; for his
smile inspired the competitors with double strength or swiftness; while
the prize acquired a tenfold value because it was he who bestowed it. At
evening, his bounty was expressed by oxen roasted whole, and puncheons
of mighty ale, with which he feasted the crowd; while his house was
thrown open to the throng of his more immediate acquaintances and
dependents. After the feast, his hall was cleared for dancing; three
fiddlers and a piper struck up; and as the “mirth and fun grew fast and
furious,” the strong oaken floor was battered and ploughed in all
directions by the hobnailed shoes of those who danced with all their
might, and with all their hearts.[225]
Such was the life of an old country gentleman when James succeeded to
the crown of England. But these habits, the last relics of the
simplicity of the olden times, did not long survive that event. Tidings
of the gay doings at court, and the wonderful good fortune of the royal
favourites, reached the ears of the aristocratic rustics; and from that
moment rural occupations and village maypoles lost their charm. The
young were impatient to repair to the metropolis; and the old were
obliged to yield to the prevailing fashion. With all the fierce
impetuosity of novices, rural esquires, and well-dowried country widows,
rushed into the pleasures and excesses of a town life; and thus, with a
rapidity hitherto unknown in England, and at which moralists became
giddy, ancient manners were soon abandoned; fortunes, that had
accumulated for generations, vanished; the hereditary estates of
centuries became the property of men of yesterday; and the time-honoured
names of some of the most ancient families disappeared from the scroll
of English heraldry, and soon ceased to be remembered.[226]
When Charles came to the throne, “the coldness of his character and his
decorous habits discountenanced those coarse and profligate excesses;
and the courtiers endeavoured to conform to something like the rules of
external decency. A general sobriety of demeanour succeeded.” “But, as
the stern ascetic Puritans grew into power, and advanced to the
destruction of the monarchy with prayer and fasting, the court party
soon became eager to distinguish themselves by an entirely opposite
behaviour. All the excesses of the former reign were resumed; and
Charles found himself unable to restrain, or even to rebuke, his
adherents, who swore, drank, brawled, and intrigued, to show their
hatred of the enemy, and their devotedness to the royal cause.”[227]
[Illustration]
Life at Raglan.[228]--Down to this eventful period, the castellated
mansion of Raglan had continued to bask in the sunshine of prosperity.
Its halls were frequented by the elite of rank and station, and by many
of that intellectual aristocracy whose genius threw so much lustre upon
that and the preceding reign. The Earl, whose revenues were princely,
lived in a style becoming the representative of an illustrious race; and
while he observed great state, and gave sumptuous banquets to the
magnates of the land, he did not neglect the humble votaries of the
Muse.
Household.--The following record is taken from a “List of the Household
and method of living at Raglan Castle,” previous to the visit of Charles
the First:--
“At eleven o’clock in the forenoon the castle gates were shut, and the
tables laid--two in the dining-room; three in the hall; one in Mrs.
Watson’s apartment, where the chaplains eat (Sir Toby Matthews being the
first); and two in the housekeeper’s room for the ladies’ women.
“First.--The Earl entered the dining-room, attended by his gentlemen. As
soon as he was seated, Sir Ralph Blackstone, steward of the house,
retired. The comptroller, Mr. Holland, attended with his staff, as did
the sewer, Mr. Blackburne; the daily waiters, Mr. Clough, Mr. Selby, Mr.
Scudamore; and many gentlemen’s sons, with estates from two hundred to
seven hundred pounds a year, who were bred up in the castle; my lady’s
gentlemen of the chamber, Mr. Morgan and Mr. Fox. At the first table sat
the noble family, and such of the nobility as came there.
“Second.--At the second table in the dining-room sat knights and
honourable gentlemen attended by footmen.
“Hall.--In the hall, at the first table, sat Sir Ralph Blackstone,
steward; the comptroller, Mr. Holland; the secretary; the master of the
horse, Mr. Dolowar; the master of the fish-ponds, Mr. Andrews; my Lord
Herbert’s preceptor, Mr. Adams; with such gentlemen as came there under
the degree of a knight, attended by footmen, and plentifully served with
wine.
“Second Hall.--At the second table in the hall--served from my lord’s
table, and with other hot meats--sat the sewer, with the gentlemen
waiters and pages, to the number of twenty-four.
“Third.--At the third table, in the hall, sat the clerk of the kitchen,
with the yeomen officers of the house, two grooms of the chamber and
others.
“Other Officers of the household were--chief auditor, Mr. Smith; clerk
of the accounts, George Whithorn; purveyor of the castle, Mr. Salisbury;
ushers of the hall, Mr. Moyle and Mr. Cooke; the closet-keeper;
gentleman of the chapel, Mr. Davies; keeper of the records; master of
the wardrobe; master of the armoury; master-grooms of the stable for the
war horses, twelve; master of the hounds; master falconer; porter, and
his man; two butchers; two keepers of the home park; two keepers of the
red deer park; footmen, grooms, and other menial servants to the number
of one hundred and fifty. Some of the footmen were brewers and bakers.
“Out-officers were--the steward of Raglan, William Jones, Esq.; the
governor of Chepstow Castle, Sir Nicholas Kemys, Bart.;[229] housekeeper
of Worcester House, in London; James Redman, Esq.; thirteen bailiffs;
two counsel for the bailiffs to have recourse to; solicitor, Mr. John
Smith.”[230]
Among other distinguished individuals, who at this time filled offices
in the household of Raglan, was the Earl’s--and soon afterwards the
Marquess’s--chaplain, Dr. Thomas Bayly; to whom we owe those amusing
“Apophthegms of the Marquess of Worcester,” published at the
Restoration, and from which we take the following farce, in the
chaplain’s own words, as presenting a characteristic picture of the
times, when the Castle had become the scene of extraordinary
festivity:--
“I cannot tell whether it was upon the marriage of my Lord Edward
Herbert with the Earl Caernarvon’s sister, or the Lord Montague with the
Marquis of Worcester’s daughter, that there happened this merrie
passage, or mock wedding, as an echo to the voices that were heard in
Hymeneus’ chappel, between those lovely couple--think which you
please--who had newly left being wholly themselves, by being half of
each other; viz., one of those two pair of lovers had no sooner united
two hearts into one, and had seated themselves by one of the too many
proprieties belonging unto the honourable state of matrimony, viz. the
boord; but this Tom Deputy, an old bachelour, chanced to cast his eye
upon a pretty piece of waiting-woman, one of the appurtenances to this
honourable bride. Her, this jovial Tom, having whetted his wit by the
side of the marriage-bowle, fixes upon, being enabled sufficiently
thereby to follow any humour, as a fit subject to make their ladiships
some sport; which happened to be so suitable to the occasion, and so
well performed, that it soon captivated the cares also of all the
masculine nobility.
“Thus encountering the faire bride--‘Madam, you have the prettiest piece
of necessity yonder, at the side-table, that I know not how any man can
be without a wife that may have her for asking. Madam, will you give her
me? I protest I will marry her, and fancy myself to be a lord, and
herself a lady. “My mind to me a kingdom is;” which shall make her a
sufficient joynture.’
“‘Tom, Tom,’ said the Marquess, ‘such men as you and I, whose joynts are
enfeebled with the strokes of many years, must not think to winne young
maides, by promising to make them joyntures of the mind. But will you
make her deputy of Deputy Hall? and landlady of all the land that is
belonging to it? and Mrs. of all the stock that is upon the land, and
goods that is within the house? Answer me this, and then you shall heare
what my daughter and her woman will say unto you.’
“‘With all my heart,’ said Tom; ‘and all the hoggs and poultry that is
about the house to boote; and she shall sleep upon six feather beds.’
“‘Why, then, it shall be a match,’ said the lady, ‘with all my heart.’
“‘Give me your hand, madam,’ sayes Deputy; ‘I will have her, if there be
no more evills in the world.’ And presently he makes his addresses to
the pritty little gentlewoman of the said table; who had heard all the
discourse, and was persuaded, then, upon his approach, to answer his
humour with a condescention at the first word, and informed that he was
an old rich bachelor; he accosting her after this manner--‘This pritty
moppit, now thy lady hath given her consent that I shall have thee, if
thou saist so too, we’ll be married as soon as they.’
“‘With all my heart, and thank you too,’ said the young gentlewoman.
“‘By my troth, a match,’ said he; ‘give me thy hand--‘tis done. I’ll
break such a jest this day as I never broke in my life.’
“‘Aye; but do not break your promise,’ said the gentlewoman.
“‘What! before all this company?’ said Deputy; ‘that were a shame.’
“Up he goes again to the lady, and tells her that they were agreed. My
lady drank to him upon the same condition. He pledged her, and wished
the wine might be his poison if he did not marry her after dinner. The
lady, willing to prefer her woman to such a fortune, held him to his
word, and required performance of his promise, giving her many and high
commendations.
“Tom went not from any part of his promise, onely the time excepted; and
that in regard he meant to buy himself some wedding clothes. The
Marquess, willing to remove that obstacle, told him that he thought
_his_ clothes would fit him; and bid him goe unto his wardrope, and take
what he had a mind to. ‘Give me your key,’ said Tom. It was delivered
unto him. Up went he, and then came down with his bever hat, sattin
cloke, laid with plush, dawb’d with a gold and silver lace, suite of the
same, silk stockings, with roses and garters suitable, inside and
outside, capope, all as brave as if he carried a lordship on his back.
“The lady-bride then takes her woman aside, and dresses her in one of
her richest and newest gownes--that should have made every day of that
week sensible of an exchange--with all things answerable thereunto; not
without some store of slight jewels; and brings her down, as glorious as
the morne, that breaks from the eastern hill, and chases night away.
“They look upon one another, and all upon them both. Tom cries out, ‘I
had best be in good earnest, my lady.’ Said my lady, ‘I thought you had
been in sober sadness.’ ‘Neither, madam,’ said the new bridegroome.
‘But, old Tom, I hope,’ said the lady, ‘you will not make me take all
this paines for nothing?’ No, by no means,’ saith he; ‘if ever we
repent, we will sell our fine cloathes and buy cattle! It is better
being a lord for a week, than a slave for ever. Come thy wayes,’ quoth
he--
‘How happy is the wooing
That is not long a doing!’
“Well--married they were, in the greatest pomp and ceremony; and the
Queen of Beauty took delight in leading the eyes of the vulgar, which by
this time were altogether fixed on the ladye of the May. Tom acted his
scene of mirth in the hall--which proved to be a thing of that
convenience, as if it had been an act of some set policie, to keep the
crowd out of the parlour that the masquers might have roome enough to
dance in.
“At last, when the masque was ended, and time had brought in supper, the
‘Cushine’ led the dance, out of the parlour into the hall, and saluted
the old-new-made bridegroome and his lady, leading them into the
parlour, to a table which was furnished with the same allowance that was
allotted for all the nobles, where they were soon forced to sit down
first--Tom taking upon him as much good cheer as they could give him.
“In fine, supper being ended, the Marquess of Worcester asked the
Lady-bride, ‘If she had a hundred pounds about her?’ She answered, ‘No,
my lord, but I can send for as much.’ ‘I pray do,’ said the Marquess;
‘but it must be all in gold.’ She sent for it, and presented it to her
father; who pulled out another purse of an hundred pieces, and put the
two hundred pieces in the bason, saying, ‘Madam, if you do not give
earnest, Deputy will tell you in the morning, that he married your woman
but in jest.’ Whereupon some gave fifty, others forty; some gave twenty,
others ten; the least gave five gold pieces, who sat at the table--in
all, £700. The apparel and other gifts, amounting to no lesse a value
than one thousand pounds; which so transported the old man, that he
protested, ‘that now he was in the humour, he would marry all the
waiting gentlewomen they had; one every day in the week, as long as the
wedding lasted.’ My Lord Marquess replied, ‘Ay, but Tom, you should have
added, “at this rate.”’...
“Not to be too tedious, the man--what with bounty, and what with that
which was as free to every man, as was their purses unto him, which was
good wine--the man was not himself when he should have gone to bed.
Which being related to my lord, his lordship took occasion to tell the
company the story of the beggar, who was made believe he did but dreame
of the happiness which really happened; and, thereupon, the marquess was
desirous to make experiment whether it could be related in the person of
old Thomas. In order whereto, he gave command that my friend Thomas
should be disrobed of his neat wedding garment, the rest of his fine
clothes taken from him, and himself carried unto his old lodging in the
porter’s lodge; and his wife to respite the solemnisation of the
marriage, until his comportment should deserve so faire an
admission--the which was done accordingly.
“The next morning made the experiment to answer the height of all their
expectations; for news was brought unto the Marquess--all the rest of
the lords and ladies standing by--that Tom took all yesterday’s work but
for a dream; or, at least, seemed to do so to humour the fancy.... But I
should be endlesse,” says Bayly, “if I should relate unto you the sport
that this fellow made.
“To conclude: The Marquess called them both before him, and delivered
unto them the money, with many good exhortations to them both, thus
moralizing upon the premises”--in a strain very characteristic of that
day:--
“‘That which was first in intention, is oftentimes, both with God and
man, the last in execution. As, for example, God had, before all worlds,
determined to show his love for mankind, by wedding his onely Sonne to
his Church; so
[Illustration: _The Paved Stone Court._
Raglan Castle.]
that thus much we have gained already, viz., that the marriage that was
made in paradise between Adam and Eve, though it was the first in time,
yet it was but secondary to the first intention; and he that said,
“Before Abraham was, I am,” was also before Adam was; and though the
first marriage was but a type of the second, yet the second, according
to the aforesaid intention, was an antecedent to the first. God, who
having an intention to wed his Sonne to his beloved spouse, the Church,
gave way to this type, or figure, or--to bring the similitude a little
homer--mock-wedding, which was between Adam and Eve, whom to make appear
more worthy and glorious in the eyes of his beloved, and all other
creatures, he arrayed with full majesty, and the robe of righteousness.
His mercy--the lady and empress of all the glorious attributes of
God--arrais this type and figure of his Church with the robe of
innocence, and gives them both a large proportion of his grace. These
blessings, Adam, by tasting the forbidden fruit, lost with his paradise,
and slept in death. Gentlemen,’ concluded the Marquess, ‘I will not make
any application hereof, lest I may seeme to mistrust your wisdomes; but
I have nothing to say to the woman.’”[231]
The preceding is certainly a very curious passage in the history of
A potent, grave, and reverend signior.
It reminds one of some parts of Don Quixote and of Rabelais--all but the
sermon at the close--which may have been imitated from one of the old
“Mysteries” then in vogue. But to these “Apophthegms” and Dr. Bayly, the
“martial chaplain” of the household, we may return in a subsequent
portion of the work. In the meantime, we shall take a survey of Raglan
Castle, as it now appears, and then proceed to a narrative of the Royal
Visits.
Architectural Details.--Of the strength, beauty, and attractions of this
stronghold--which we are now to examine with some degree of
minuteness--a quaint old poet[232] has thus recorded his admiration:--
A famous Castle fine
That Raglan hight, stands moated almost round;
Made of free-stone, upreight, as straight as line,
Whose workmanship in beauty doth abound,
With curious knots, wrought all with edged tool:
The stately Tower that looks o’er pond and poole;
The fountaine trim, that runs both day and night,
Doth yeald in shew a rare and noble sight.
This description, of course, applies to times long before the guns of
Fairfax had made a breach in the Yellow Tower; and while the Castle,
with all its regal appendages, was the cherished abode of its
illustrious owner--a repertorium of the fine arts, and the seat of
unbounded hospitality. At no period of its history, however--not even
while it was inhabited by worth and beauty, enriched with the precious
works of art, and seemed to enclose within its walls an earthly
paradise--at no period did it ever present so many features to fascinate
the mind and eye of Taste as at this moment.
And “Why is it”--inquires one of the ablest writers of the day--“Why is
it that we feel so poetical a sympathy with the great men of ages long
past? Why do castles please most when they are dismantled, and palaces
when they are in ruins? Why is an old battle-field rather improved than
otherwise by a crop of standing corn? Because we can _imagine_ nobler
things than we can _see_. Because the heroic deed, not vile flesh and
blood, is the impersonation of the hero. We should be rather displeased
at meeting the Iron Duke walking to a pedometer on the field of
Waterloo. We would doubt whether on the plain of Marathon we could be
reconciled even to the ghost of Miltiades. Greatness shines more
brightly when it is abstracted from the man.”
We will now, as proposed, take the building in detail, beginning with
the grand entrance, and proceeding onward, until we have completed the
circuit of the walls, the inner apartments, battlements, terraces, and
outworks. On these prominent features we shall dilate with more or less
minuteness according to the interest of the subject--but always
directing the reader’s attention more especially to those portions which
have been chosen as subjects of illustration.
Grand Entrance.--Here a magnificent and imposing spectacle bursts upon
the eye--three pentagonal towers, crowned with battlements, and bearing
on their mutilated outline marks of the cannon-shot directed against it
by the besiegers. These, however, are less defaced than any other
portions of the ruin, and are now invested with a luxuriant mantle of
ivy, lichen, and parasitical plants, as if Nature interposed to protect
the venerable edifice from further outrage and decay. In the gateway are
grooves for two portcullises. The two pentagonal towers on the right and
left were appropriated to the inferior offices of the castle.
Immediately behind these were rooms occupied by the garrison, or
household troops. Adjoining these on the right, was the third pentagonal
tower, called the Closet Tower; and on the left again were the officers’
apartments, which were demolished during the operations of the siege.
Gateway.--Between the two foremost of the pentagonal towers,
above-named, the great portal--a work of imposing strength and fine
gothic proportions--opens into the second court. Halting under the
archway, the curious visitor will examine, with mingled pleasure and
surprise, the fine architectural details; the groined ceiling; its lofty
span; its fine proportions, in which grace, strength, and beauty are
eminently combined: while the deep grooves, worn smooth by the working
of the double portcullis, show how readily this hospitable gateway
could be transformed, when occasion required, into an impenetrable
barrier, and employed as a destructive engine of war. The old apartments
in the gateway tower are correctly represented in the following
woodcut--
[Illustration]
In a vaulted room in the east tower there is a remarkable echo; and
thither musical parties frequently resort during the fine season to
spread their pic-nic, and exercise their vocal powers. This apartment is
considered to have been the prison to which captives, or hostages of
distinction, were formerly consigned;[233] and certainly no place in the
Castle presents an air of more “hopeless security.” In the court
below--as represented in a former woodcut--several pieces of ancient
armour, and some heavy cannon shot, are shown to the visitor, as
illustrative of the times to which they belong. The next compartment is
The Paved Court.--All the buildings on the right of this court,
particularly the Closet Tower--the third pentagonal tower at the
entrance--suffered greatly from the enemy’s cannon during the siege; and
here, on the north-east side of the wall, the breach was effected that
hastened the capitulation. The Pitched, or Paved Court, the area of
which was once the parade ground, thronged with armed men, as they
joined in some military fête, or entered on some warlike preparation for
the siege, is now surrounded by only crumbling walls, and as verdant as
a bowling-green. The towering battlements are all richly festooned with
ivy. Every crevice sends forth its trees and shrubs, that seem to
luxuriate in the old mortar; and under the same canopy of leaves, as
already noticed, birds of song and birds of ill omen congregate
together. At the extremity of the Paved Court, on the right, as we
proceed westward, and from the point marked by a seat under a shady
ash-tree, the visitor obtains an imposing view of the architecture on
the south side, which, with all its dilapidations, is eminently
picturesque. “Its boundary is there hung with the richest tapestry that
Nature can weave--a mantling vestment of evergreen--through which
appears, in grand proportions, the majestic window of the Hall of
State.” This is a prominent feature in the steel engraving.
The Kitchen.--At the extremity of the court, and opposite to the portal,
is an archway leading to the kitchen, which occupies the area of a
pentagonal tower, projecting beyond the walls northward, and of narrow
compass, but great solidity and strength. In an office adjoining is an
extensive fireplace, the arch of which, thirteen feet in the span, is
formed by two massive stones. The wide capacious chimney is worthy of
notice. Beneath the kitchen is a room in perfect preservation, called
the Wet Larder, which may be easily reached by a subterranean passage.
From the kitchen a passage leads southward across the lower end of the
Pitched Court to the Buttery, and this again to the common
Dining-Hall, or Parlour.--This apartment measures forty-nine feet in
length by twenty-one in breadth, with an opening at the east end into a
narrow cross passage, which also communicates, by three openings or
doors, with the great Hall, which lies between the Pitched Court and the
Chapel, and occupies nearly the whole space between this dining-hall and
the Officers’ Tower, at the great entrance. Adjoining these is the
Baronial Hall.--This stately apartment, running parallel with the
ancient chapel, occupies the interval between the two inner courts, and
measures sixty-six feet in length by twenty-eight in breadth. The chief
indications of its original grandeur consist in the majestic
proportions--all of elegant design and masterly execution. The great
bay-window is a feature that cannot fail to excite admiration; and were
no other left entire, it would serve to convey a very distinct picture
of that feudal magnificence which was in character with the splendour of
its architecture. The fireplace, ten feet wide by eight feet high, is
well adapted to the size of the apartment, and to those times when,
instead of pit-coal, the branches or bole of a tree blazed on the winter
hearth.
Arms.--The arms of the Marquisate of Worcester, cut in stone, but much
obliterated, adorn the eastern wall; for the noble badge was an
offensive object to the republicans; and, on their taking possession of
the castle, it was probably
[Illustration: _The Baronial Hall._
Raglan Castle.]
used as a target,[234] and thus wantonly defaced. Over the fire-place,
as shown in the engraving, is the letter W. worked in brick.
Roof.--The geometrical roof, which once covered this noble hall, is
allowed by all writers on the subject to have been of admirable
construction. It was of Irish oak of the best quality, nicely adjusted,
elaborately carved, and so ingeniously framed and fastened together,
that the whole appeared as firm as if it had been chiselled out of a
solid block; yet withal so lofty, so light and airy in appearance, that
it seemed rather to be suspended from the sky above, than to rest upon
the corbel heads and walls which it covered and adorned. In the centre
was a gothic louvre adorned with painted glass, through which the
descending light streamed upon the assembled guests--their arms,
dresses, and accoutrements, in all the colours of the rainbow.
At the lower end of the hall is the Buttery, an apartment, thirty-two
feet long by eighteen broad; and attached to this is another of equal
dimensions, called the Pantry.
Officers’ Barracks.--Opposite the door of the great Hall, on the south,
was a range of apartments, used as lodgings for the superior officers of
the garrison. During the siege these were razed to the ground by the
enemy’s artillery; so that the area on which they stood is now
confounded with that of the Fountain Court. The latter apartments are
distinct from those already described.
The Chapel.--The Baronial Chapel stands in the rear of the apartments
named. It is a long narrow structure, running parallel with the great
Hall, and forming the north side of the Fountain Court; but the vestiges
that remain convey no distinct notion of its architectural style and
decorations; which were, no doubt, in harmony with other sacred
buildings of that age and its character of a baronial chapel. If,
however, we may form any opinion from two rudely carved stone
effigies[235] projecting from the wall on the north side, and nearly
covered with ivy, we should form but a very unfavourable estimate of its
ornamental sculpture: unless, indeed, the deformity they exhibit be the
result of wilful violence; and as they are at a good height, and not
approachable in the ordinary way, we had no means of ascertaining the
fact by close inspection. But the corbel heads, from which the arches
sprung, do not appear to justify a more favourable opinion; for the
workmanship exhibits neither skill in the design, nor spirit in the
execution. The Chapel, therefore, was of a date perhaps much anterior to
the surrounding buildings, and coeval with that of the Keep, or “Tower
of Gwent,” a work of the eleventh century.
The Fountain Court.--This court was formerly adorned with an equestrian
statue, mounted on a lofty pedestal, and embellished with a
fountain--the water for which was brought at great expense from the
neighbouring hills--and, after being thrown up in jets-d’eau, was
conveyed into the fish-ponds adjoining, so as to combine in its progress
the useful with the ornamental. But the pedestal, the marble basin, and
the statue, with every other fragment of the structure, have
disappeared. The pipes that conveyed the water have been ploughed up in
the fields adjoining the castle; but the classic beauty of the fountain
lives in the history and traditions of the place: and from a laughable
incident related in the “Apophthegms,” and which will be found in
another portion of this work, we may infer that the Marquess of
Worcester took great pleasure in this kind of embellishments.[236]
South-west Tower.--Ascending the flight of steps commencing at the grand
entrance, on the south side of the court, we were conducted through the
desolate apartments, known traditionally as those occupied by Charles
the First, after his flight from Naseby. This tower, and the whole range
of apartments connected with it, are in a state of complete
dilapidation; and were it not for the wooden scaffolding that secures
and facilitates the visitor’s progress, a tour of the ramparts would be
impracticable. A lady, we were told, who happened to be near this spot
during a rather high wind, was blown over the wall; but an umbrella,
which she had fortunately open in her hand, acted like a parachute, and
broke her fall; and thus she alighted among the shrubs beneath without
sustaining any material injury.
In these royal apartments, we were shown a tunnel, like a chimney, in
the wall of the king’s chamber, communicating with the outer rampart, by
means of which, in case of surprise or danger, the royal fugitive could
have been lowered in a basket, and enabled to make his escape beyond the
walls. Had a similar contrivance existed at Carisbrook, it would have
served his purpose better. But there he was indeed a prisoner. Here he
had the lives and services of a whole garrison at his command; with
Worcester himself, the most devoted friend the king ever possessed, to
provide against every danger, and supply every want.
A light and elegant stone window is here pointed out as that to which
the king often resorted, on account of the richly variegated and
extensive view which it commands of hill and dale, wood and water;
trees, hamlets, and farmhouses, covering a rich and well-cultivated
tract of land. These natural beauties are as fresh as ever; while the
splendid building, from which he then
[Illustration: _Gateway in the Fountain Court._
Raglan Castle.]
contemplated the scene, is reduced to a lonely ruin--thus apostrophized
by the muse of Bloomfield:--
“Majestic Raglan! harvests wave
Where thundering hosts their watchword gave;
When cavaliers, with downcast eye,
Struck the last flag of loyalty!”
The Cellars.--These subterranean receptacles are of vast extent; and, in
massive strength and proportions--like a crypt under a cathedral--are
worthy of the noble edifice that covers them. In times of danger, and
particularly during the siege, they appear to have served the manifold
purposes of cellars, storehouses, larders, magazines, and muniments of
war, with provisions for a numerous garrison and household.
At the north-eastern part of the court, the buildings were nearly all
mutilated, or thrown down by the enemy’s batteries, which, from a rising
ground in the line of his approach, played with destructive force upon
this portion of the walls. Fragments, however, still remain to show the
predominant features of the Castle--its strength and beauty. From this
point, we are told, communication with the citadel was secured by means
of a sumptuous arched bridge, with a gate to correspond. But of these no
distinct vestiges are left. The “sumptuous bridge” is replaced by a
rustic structure of wood; the moat it spans is half filled with decayed
vegetables and debris; and the water, that formerly enclosed the Keep
like a wall of crystal, is now covered with a sluggish green surface,
that exhibits a very different kind of life.
In other parts of the moat, however, it is deep and transparent, mostly
so at the south corner, where masses of verdure--with a particularly old
and very picturesque tree, as shown in the illustration--are reflected
as if in a mirror. This is probably the most interesting point of view
in the whole Castle. Of a still summer evening, about sunset, the
outline of the gray towers and battlements, with all their contrasted
features of light and shade, beauty and decay--here fringed with wood,
and there displaying honourable scars--sleeps on the face of the water
like an inverted picture. The scene, with all its singular
accompaniments, has then a dreaminess of romance about it, similar to
that which the Fata Morgana conjures up on the Straits of Messina--but
with this important difference, that the scenery here, however romantic,
is real and substantial; that all we behold is the work of Art, over
which Nature has only thrown her splendid illusion of cloud, sunshine,
and exuberant vegetation.
Tower of Gwent.--This tall and massive structure, built as if to defy
the united force of time and violence, forms the Citadel or Donjon-Tower
of the fortress; and points very expressively to those remote times,
when the peace of a great man’s household depended on the strength of
his walls, and the number and courage of his retainers. In a direct
line with this Castle were three gates; the first of brick, from which,
at the distance of one hundred and eighty feet, and with an ascent of
many steps, was the White Gate, built of square stone. At some distance
on the left stands the Melin y Gwent, or Yellow Tower of Gwent, which
for strength, height, and workmanship, surpassed most other towers, if
not every other, in England or Wales. It had six sides, each thirty-two
feet wide, and ten feet thick, built of square stone, and in height five
stories. Its battlements, never meant to resist cannon shot, are only
eight inches thick; but so symmetrical and compactly set, that they
appear as if cut out of a solid block. During the siege--hereafter to be
described--this portion was soon demolished by the batteries directed
against it by Fairfax; but his heaviest guns, eighteen and twenty
pounders, took no more effect on the body of the tower, than if they had
opened upon a solid rock.[237] Our ancestors appear to have been
particularly well skilled in the composition of their cement, which in
Raglan is now nearly as hard as the stones it holds together. When the
Goths and Vandals of the country--the blind instruments of Fairfax--were
summoned to demolish with their pickaxes what the besiegers’ cannon had
spared, their republican zeal was attended with little success; for
“after battering of the top,” they were obliged, as we shall see, to
desist from that method as fruitless, and adopt other means for its
destruction.[238]
This Tower communicated with the Castle by means of an elegant arched
bridge encircled by an outer wall, with six arched and embattled
turrets, all of square stone. Adjoining this was a deep moat, thirty
feet broad, and supplied by a clear running stream, from which the
water-works, so much the fashion in those days, threw up columns of
water as high as the Castle battlements. Along the edge of the moat, was
a commodious sunken walk, embellished with grotto-work, statues of the
Twelve Cæsars, and otherwise ornamented with the choicest productions of
Nature and Art. This was the walk to which the family could resort at
all seasons, whether for exercise or meditation. Within the walls and
the green adjoining--then the bowling-green, and twelve feet higher than
the walk--was a garden plat, the size of which was proportioned to the
tower. Next to this plat--as shown in the accompanying
ground-plan--stood the Barn.
In casting the eye over the whole circuit of these buildings, the mind
is astonished at the immense labour which must have been exerted to
collect together such a quantity of materials of various descriptions.
And here it may
[Illustration: _The Moat._
Raglan Castle.]
be observed that the majority of these baronial mansions are situated
on, or near, the bank of some navigable river, for the purpose of
defending some important pass or fortress, by means of which the
carriage of stone is attended with comparatively little expense or
trouble; but in the present instance, there is no navigable river nearer
than the Wye, from which the Castle is distant at Monmouth ten, and at
Chepstow twelve miles.[239] And what is very remarkable, there is no
quarry in the neighbourhood from which the stone employed in building
the Castle could have been procured. It is of a light grey colour, and
very hard; but the name of the quarter from which it was taken is still
a matter of vague conjecture. No such stone as that used for the
chimney-pieces of Raglan is now to be found in Monmouthshire. Such is
the neatness and exactness with which the facing stones are laid, that
they exhibit the same perfect appearance as if the artist had but just
left the scaffold. “The bricks which compose the south wall are
extremely well baked, and of a quality not less durable than that of the
stone.”
In the present day, we can form but a very imperfect notion of the
extent to which the original outworks were carried. When the demesnes of
ancient families are let out as farms, the tenant soon brings about a
revolution of ancient purposes. He adapts the whole to modern uses--to
whatever will best enable him to pay his rent. He calculates how many
bushels of potatoes will grow on the slope; how much the lawn will yield
to the plough, how much to pasturage; and how much grass may be annually
shorn from the old Bowling-green.
So has it fared with the renowned fortress of Raglan.[240] With little
interest in its history, little reverence for its ancient lords, every
successive tenant, during a long series of years, has only studied how
to turn it to the best advantage. Its ancient gardens have been
obliterated; its lawns converted into pasture; its fountains, streams,
and fish-ponds have been dried up; its materials carted away to erect
some farmer’s homestead; its walls, that so stoutly resisted the enemy’s
shot, and returned it with interest, seem to feel their degradation, and
strive to hide it under a mantle of ivy.[241] Now, however, the grounds
are kept in good order; while every feature and fragment of the
venerable ruin are preserved with exemplary care by the resident warden,
who happily possesses a taste for archæology.
The accompanying ground-plan will enable the reader to trace the various
apartments of the Castle in the same order in which they are described,
and to follow with more interest the details of the Siege, upon which we
are now to enter.
[Illustration:
1 Keep, or Yellow Tower.
2 Chambers destroyed in the Siege.
3 Great Hall.
4 Parlour, or small Dining-Room.
5 Kitchen.
6 Gateway and Staircase.
7 Galleries and State-Rooms.
8 Chapel.
9 Gateway leading to the Bowling-Green.
10 Spot formerly crossed by a bridge.
11 Breach made during the Siege.
12 On the upper story is King Charles’ window.
13 Moat surrounding the Keep.
]
“Our Donjon-tower is stout and tall,
Each rampart mann’d and steady;
And loyal hearts, from every wall,
Shout--‘_Roundheads!_ we are ready!’
Then here’s a health to Charles our King;
And eke to noble Worcester!
To each, to-morrow’s fight shall bring
New loyalty and lustre!
Then hoist the Royal Standard high!
And crown our Chief with laurels!
And where’s the man that would not die
In combating for Charles?” &c. &c.
We have next to take a brief survey of that portion of the Revolutionary
movements, with which the history of Raglan and its loyal garrison are
so closely associated.
“The Parliament had now,” says Lord Clarendon, “such footing in
Pembrokeshire, that many of the principal gentlemen had declared for
them; and the harbour of Milford Haven gave their fleet opportunity to
give them all supplies and relief.” This being the state of those parts,
The Lord Herbert, eldest son of the Marquess of Worcester, not only
offered but desired to receive that command, and engaged himself “not
only to secure it from the opposition and malignity of the other party;
but before the spring to raise such a strength of horse and foot, and to
provide such an equipage to march with, that might reduce Gloucester,
and then be added to the King’s army when he should be ready to take the
field. And all this so much at his own charge, for his father, the
Marquess, who was well able, would furnish the money--as was pretended
upon the King’s promise to repay him when he should be restored to his
own--that he would receive no part of the King’s revenue, or of such
money as his Majesty could be able to draw for the supply of his own
more immediate occasions.”
This was a very great offer, and such as no man else could so reasonably
make: for “the Marquess of Worcester was generally reputed the greatest
mony’d man in the kingdom; and probably might not think it an unthrifty
thing rather to disburse it for the King--who might be able to repay
it--than to have it taken from him by the other party; which would be
hardly questioned if they prevailed.”[242]
The Lord Herbert himself “was a man of more than ordinary affection for
the King; and one who, he was sure, would not betray him. For his
religion, it might work upon himself, but would not disquiet other men.
For though he were a Papist, he was never like to make others so; and
his reputation and interest were very great with many gentlemen of those
counties, who were not at all friends to his religion. It was to be
hoped that the old grudges and prejudices, which had been rather against
the house of Worcester and the Popish religion professed there, than
against the person of their lord, would have been composed, and declined
by his fair and gentle carriage towards all men--as of truth he was of a
civil and obliging nature--and by the public-heartedness of those who,
for the Cause and conscience’ sake would, it was hoped, sacrifice all
trivial and private contentions to a union that must vindicate the
religion, honour, and justice of the kingdom. Upon these reasons and
these presumptions, the King granted such a commission as is
before-mentioned to the Lord Herbert; who, with more expedition than was
expected by many, or by others believed possible, raised a body of above
fifteen hundred foot, and near five hundred horse, very well and
sufficiently armed, which increased the merit of the service.”[243]
Of the royalist army, raised and paid by the Marquess of Worcester, the
command of the infantry was given to Major-General Lawley; that of the
cavalry to Lord John Somerset, his second son; while Lord Herbert took
the field as Commander-in-chief. Immediately on its being ascertained
that Monmouth had declared for the Parliament, Lord Herbert placed
himself at the head of a body of troops, and, joined by a party of
volunteers from Goodrich, placed them behind a rising ground near the
town. Here, with about forty intrepid followers, he proceeded to
reconnoitre the enemy’s position, and surmounting an earthen mound which
they had thrown up, he passed the ditch, and put the guard to the sword.
They next succeeded in breaking the port chain and forced an entrance
for the cavalry; then, joining their comrades, they entered the town at
full gallop, and, surrounding the main guard, made them prisoners. “The
result of this expedition was the capture of Col. Broughton, four
captains, four lieutenants and ensigns, the republican committee, and
all the private soldiers, with a considerable quantity of arms and
ammunition.”
Raglan Castle by this time had been put into a state of thorough
defence, with a garrison of eight hundred men, many distinguished
officers, and all the necessaries for maintaining a long and vigorous
resistance. The Marquess himself--then on the verge of
fourscore--infused by his presence and conversation an invincible spirit
of loyalty into the garrison; and provisioned as it was, the place might
well be viewed as almost impregnable.
The clashing exploit of Lord Herbert, however, was speedily followed by
a mortifying reverse; for as the King’s army was on its march to
Gloucester, it was met near Coleford by a rabble force of disaffected
peasantry, whose object was to obstruct the Royalists in their passage
through the Forest of Dean; and a scuffle ensuing, Colonel Lawley, the
captain-in-chief, was mortally wounded by a stone.[244] But order being
restored, and Colonel Brett taking the command, the Royalists continued
their march until arriving on the right bank of the Severn, they threw
up defences at the “Vineyard”--the Bishop’s palace--and there fixed
their quarters. But in the meantime, Sir William Waller, who was then
with a regiment of horse on the borders of Worcestershire, put himself
in motion, and by forced marches took up his position in front of the
Royalists. This sudden apparition threw them into a panic; for,
considering themselves in their newly-fortified position quite secure
from all danger of surprise, Lord Herbert had gone to wait upon the King
at Oxford; while his brother, Lord John, who commanded the horse, had
set out with two or three troops on a reconnoitering party; so that no
officer of skill or authority was left to direct or head the forces.
All, therefore, was instant confusion in the camp; for, although their
position was strong, well supplied with cannon, and certainly not to be
stormed by any amount of cavalry that could be brought against them, yet
they abandoned all thoughts of defence, and without striking a blow,
surrendered to the first summons from Waller, on the simple grant of
quarter.
This unexpected disaster was a death-blow to the army of Worcester; “the
raising of which was considered such an effort on the part of the
Marquess, that it could hardly have been accomplished by any other
nobleman in the realm.” That “mushroom army grew up and perished so
soon, that the loss of it was scarce apprehended at Oxford, because the
strength, or rather the numerical force, was not understood. But had the
money,” as Lord Clarendon observes, “that was laid out in raising and
paying a body of men, who never in the least degree advanced the royal
interest, been brought into the King’s receipt at Oxford, and employed
to the most advantage, the war might have been ended the next summer;
for I have heard the Lord Herbert say, that those preparations, and
others which by that defeat were rendered useless, cost above three
score thousand pounds; the greatest part of which”--an enormous sum in
those times--“was advanced by his father, the Marquess of
Worcester.”[245] We now proceed to notice the
Royal Visit to Raglan, which in its loyal devotion remained unshaken by
these reverses; and the following anecdote gives us a favourable idea of
the good humour, combined with courtly magnificence, with which Lord
Worcester entertained the King on his first visit to the Castle. We
relate the anecdote on the authority of the family Chaplain:--
“Sir Thomas Somerset, brother to the Marquess, had a house which they
called Troy--the principal residence of the Duke of Beaufort--within
five miles of Raglan Castle. Sir Thomas Somerset being a neate man, both
within and without his house, as he was a complete gentleman of himself
every way, delighted very much in fine gardens and orchards, and in
replenishing and ordering them with all the varieties of choicest fruits
that could be got, and in defending his new plantations from the
coldness of the climate by the benefit of art. The earth, that was so
much made of, proved so grateful to him, that, at the same time that
the King happened to be at his brother’s house at Raglan, it yielded him
wherewithal to send his brother Worcester such a present, as at that
time of the year and place, was able to make the King and all his lords
believe that the Sovereign of the Planets, with all his prime electors,
had new changed the Poles; and that Wales, the refuse and outcast of the
fair garden of England, had fairer and riper fruit growing upon her
stone rubbish, than England’s levels had in all her beds. This,
presented to the Marquess, he could not suffer to be presented to the
King by any other hands except his own. In comes the Marquess, at the
latter end of supper, led by the arm, having such a goodly presence with
him, that his being led became him, rather like some ceremony of state,
than shew of impotence; and his slow pace, occasioned by his infirmity,
expressed a Spanish gravity, rather than feebleness. Thus, with a silver
dish in each hand filled with rarities, and a little basket upon his
arm, as a supply, in case his Majesty should be over bountiful of his
favours to the ladies that were standers by, he makes his third
obeysance and thus speaks:--
“‘May it please your Majesty, if the four elements could have been rob’d
to have entertained your Majesty, I think I had done my duty; but I must
do as I may. If I had sent to Bristol for some good things to entertain
your Majesty, there had been no wonder at all. If I had procured from
London some goodnesse that might have been acceptable to your Majesty,
that had been no wonder indeed. But here I present your
Majesty’--placing his dishes upon the table--‘with what neither came
from Lincoln that was, nor London that is, nor York that is to be;[246]
but I assure your Majesty that this present came from Troy.’ Whereupon
the King smiled, and answered the Marquess--‘Truly, my lord, I have
heard that corne[247] now growes where Troy town once stood; but I never
thought there had grown any apricocks there before.’ Whereupon the
Marquess replied--‘Anything to please your Majesty.’
“The fruit was very much admired by every one, and it was acknowledged
by all that were in the presence at that time, that they never saw the
King served in greater state in all their lives. There were some about
the King who followed my Lord Marquess when he departed the presence,
and told his lordship that he would make a very good courtier. ‘Aye,’
said the Marquess, ‘I remember I said one thing that may give you some
hopes of me--Anything to please your Majesty.’”
Of the Marquess’s farther proficiency in the art and mystery of a
courtier, during the royal visit, we find this specimen:--
“The Marquess had a mind to tell the King, as handsomely as he could, of
some of his, as he thought, _faults_; and thus he continues his plot:
Against the time that his Majesty was wont to give his lordship a visit,
as commonly he used to do after dinner, his lordship had the book of
John Gower lying before him on the table. The King casting his eye upon
the book, told the Marquess he had never seen it before. ‘Oh!’ said the
Marquis, ‘it is the book of books, which if your Majesty had been well
versed in, it would have made you a king of kings.’ ‘Why so, my Lord?’
said the King. ‘Why,’ said the Marquess, ‘here is set down how Aristotle
brought up and instructed Alexander the Great in all the rudiments and
principles belonging to a prince.’ And under the persons of Alexander
and Aristotle, he read the King such a lesson, that all the standers by
were amazed at his boldness; and the King supposing that he had gone
farther than his text would have given him leave, asked the Marquess,
‘If he said his lesson by _heart_, or whether he spoke out of the book?’
The Marquess replied, ‘Sir, if you could read my heart, it may be you
might find it there; or, if your Majesty please to get it by heart, I
will lend you my book.’ Which latter proffer the King accepted of, and
did borrow it. ‘Nay,’ said the Marquess, ‘I will lend it you upon these
conditions: First, That you read it; secondly, That you make use of it.’
But perceiving how that some of the new-made lords fretted, and bit
their thumbs at certain passages in the Marquess’s discourse, he thought
a little to please his Majesty, though he pleased not them, the men who
were so much displeased already protesting unto his Majesty, that no man
was so much for the absolute power of a king as Aristotle. Desiring the
book out of the King’s hand, he told the King that he would show him one
remarkable passage to that purpose, turning to that place that had this
verse:--
“A king can kill, a king can save,
A king can make a lord a knave,
And of a knave a lord also,” &c.
“Whereupon there were divers new-made lords who slunk out of the roome,
which the King observing, told the Marquess--‘My lord, at this rate, you
will drive away all my Nobility!’
“The Marquess replied--‘I protest unto your Majesty, I am as new a made
lord as any of them all;[248] but I was never called knave and rogue so
much in all my life, as I have been since I received this last honour,
and why should not they bear their shares?’”
But the Marquess, like many of the King’s party, seems to have wanted
that undoubting confidence of success, which not unfrequently secures
it. How different from the determined tone of a Cromwell is this:--“When
the King first entered the gates of Raglan, the Marquess delivered his
Majesty the keys, according to the ordinary custom; the King restoring
of them to the Marquis, the Marquis said, ‘I beseech your Majesty to
keep them, and you please, for they are in a good hand; but I am afraid
that ere it be long, I shall be forced to deliver them into the hands of
those who will spoil the compliment.’” And so it happened.
The plans taken by the King, while residing in Raglan Castle, to
persuade the Marquess of Worcester to farther advances of money, afford
a subject for a humiliating chapter in the royal history. The aged
Marquess had three ruling principles--loyalty to the King, attachment to
the Roman Catholic religion, and fondness for money. His loyalty had
been already extensively drawn upon, and there remained now to be tried
an attempt upon his proselytizing zeal. He had now to be flattered with
the idea that he might possibly persuade the King to profess the tenets
of his ancestors. Charles, indeed, had not made great progress in
Protestant doctrines; and the Marquess, confident in his theological
powers, imagined he would find an easy convert. Here is Dr. Bayly’s
account of the matter:--
“Thus affected was that noble and, indeed, in his way, heavenly
disposed, Henry, late Marquess of Worcester, to play the greatest prize
that ever was played between any two that ever entered within those
lists. Three diadems were to encounter with the tripple crowne, and the
tripple crowne with three sceptres. Opportunity, that lucky gamester,
that hardly loses a game in twenty, was on the Marquess’ side; time and
place directed him how to take points in his own tables; the King at
that time being in the Marquess’s own house at Raglan, and necessitated
to borrow money to buy bread, after so great a loss in battle. The King
being thus put to play the aftergame with the old Marquess, was a little
mistrustful that he had not played the foregame with him so well, as
that he had not thereby prejudiced the latter: for, though the Marquess
and his son were the two ablest and most forward’st shoulderers up of
the declining throne, especially the chip of the old block, whose
disposition expressed itself most noble in not caring who had loved the
King, so that he might be but permitted to love Alexander; whom he
affected not only with the loyal respects of a subject towards his
soveraigne, but also with such passionate ways of expressions and
laboriousnesse in all good offices, as are wont to be predominant in
those in whom simpathy is the only ground of their affections; yet there
were not wanting some kind of men who made the averseness of this
nobleman’s religion an occasion of improving their own envies. Which,
though it could never lose him the least ground in his master’s good
opinion of him--who never would judge no more a saint by his face than a
devil by his feet, but both according to their several ingagements--yet
there were some things which happened, as having relation to this
family, which were not altogether pleasing. However, though his Majesty
came thither ushered by necessity, yet he came neither unwelcomed nor
uninvited; and entertained as if he had been more than a king, by reason
of some late atchievements, rather than otherwise: and though money came
from him like drops of blood, yet he was contented that every drop
within his body should be let out at his command, so that he might
performe so meritorious a piece of worke as, he thought, the being an
instrument of bringing the father of his country to be the son of his
church, would be unto his soul’s health. The Marquess having these
resolutions within himselfe, thought to give them breath at the same
time that his Majesty should make his motion for a further supply of
money, which he daily and hourly expected; but was deceived in his
expectations; for the relation having already reach’d the King’s ear,
how an accident had made me no less fortunate to his lordship, than in
being the means of preserving his lordship’s person, and no
inconsiderable fortune then in the same venture with him; and how that I
preserved both the one and the other, in concealing both, for the space
that the moon useth to be twice in riding of her circuit,[249] (the
particulars hereof, here to insert, would tend rather to much arrogance
than any purpose, wherefore I further forbear,) until such time as the
trust which Providence had reposed in me was crowned by the same hand
with such successe as brought the Marquess safe to his own house in
peace; which I had no sooner brought to passe, but the Marquess drew
from me a solemn engagement never to leave him so long as we both should
live; which I was so careful for to observe, that I neither left him in
life nor death, faire weather nor foule, until such time as he left me,
and I laid him under the ground in Windsor Castle, in the sepulchre of
his fathers.”
The author of the notice of the Marquess of Worcester in “Lodge’s
Portraits,” says, that “the adventure here alluded to by Dr. Bayly is
and must remain unknown.” It is, however, made sufficiently clear in the
“First Apophthegm,” where Bayly tells us that he met the Marquess in the
Welsh mountains, “flying a danger with a softer pace than it made after
him.” Bayly, whose knowledge of the country must necessarily have been
great, had it in his power to conceal the Marquess. This was their first
meeting, and they ever after were inseparable. In nearly the words
already used, Bayly in this passage also says, “From which time
forward, until the time that I laid him in his grave in Windsor Castle,
I never parted from him.”
He continues--“And it was a strange thing, that during the time that I
was thus a bond-servant to his lordship, which was for the space of
twelve monethes thrice told, the difference in religion never wrought
the least difference in his disposals of trusts of the highest nature
upon me; but his speeches often shewed his heart, and his often lending
me his ear, that they were both as much mine as any man’s. Of which, it
seems, his Majesty being informed, I must be the beetle-head that must
drive this wedge into the royall stock; and was also told, that no man
could make a divorce between the Babilonish garment and the wedge of
gold sooner than myself. To be brief--I was ingaged in the business; I
could neither deny the employment, nor well tell how to go about it, I,
not knowing the Marquess’ drift all this while, thought the Marquess had
feared nothing more than what I myself was most afraid of, viz., that I
should be made an instrument to let the same horse bleed, whom the King
himself had found so free, that he was unwilling to give him the least
touch with his spur. Howsoever, I went about it, and thus began to tell
his lordship:--‘My Lord, the thing that I feared is now fallen upon me;
I am made the unwelcome messenger of bad news--the King wants money!’ At
which word the Marquess interrupted me, saying, ‘Hold, sir, that’s no
news; go on with your business.’ ‘My Lord,’ said I, ‘there is one
comfort yet, that as the King is brought low, so are his demands; and,
like his army, are come down from thousands to hundreds: and from paying
the souldiers of his army to buying bread for himself and his followers.
My Lord, it is the King’s own expression, and his desire is but three
hundred pound.’ Whereupon my Lord made a long pause before he gave me
one word of answer. I knew by experience that in such cases it was best
leaving him to himself, and to let that nature, which was so good, worke
itselfe into an act of the highest charity--like the diamond, which is
only pollished with its own dust. At last he called me nearer to him,
and asked me, ‘If the King himself had spoken to me concerning any such
business?’ To which I answered, ‘That the King himself had not; but
others did in the King’s hearing.’ Whereupon he said, ‘Might I but speak
unto him--but I was never thought worthy to be consulted with, though in
matters meerly concerning the affaires of my own country--I would supply
his wants, were they never so great, or whatsoever they were.’ Whereupon
I told his lordship that, ‘If the King knew as much, he might quickly
speak with him.’ Then said the Marquess, ‘The way to have him know so
much is to have somebody to tell him of it.’ I asked his lordship, ‘If
he would give me leave to be the informer.’ He told me, ‘He spake it to
the same purpose.’ I hastened from him, with as much feare of being
called back again, as I did towards the King, with a longing desire of
giving his Majesty so good an account of my so much doubted embassie.
“Half going and half running through the gallerie, I was stopt in my way
by one Lieutenant-Collonel Lyllard, who told me, that if ever I had a
mind to do my Lord Marquess and the garrison any good, now was the time:
for even now one of the King’s ships had run herself on ground under the
town of Chepstow. Calling unto me the captain of her (one Captain Hill),
who related unto me that upon the surrender of Bristol he was forced to
fly into the sanctuary of the King’s quarters, having formerly revolted
from the Parliament, or rather returned to her due obedience. Telling
me, moreover, that she was fraught with store of goods and rich
commodities, as sugar, tobacco, linnen of all sorts, &c., and that the
law in such a case appropriated the King to such a part of her lading;
which I better understood then than I can relate unto you now; and that
she had many fair brass and iron guns in her, with proportionable
ammunition, usefull for the garrison; and that, for a word of speaking,
I might have all this of the King for the use of the garrison. I
(considering that it would be nevertheless the King’s for being
converted to such an use, as also the business I was about) made no
doubt but that I could easily beg all this for the Marquess, in
consideration of the great charges his lordship had been at in
entertaining his Majesty so long. Neither was I deceived, for the King
granted it willingly.
“But as to the matter in hand, I told his Majesty apart, that I had
moved his lordship in matter of money; but found him a little
discouraged, in regard that his Majestie having been twice at Raglan a
moneth at a time, and that at neither of those times he ever vouchsafed
his lordship so much honour as once to call him to councel, though it
was in his own house, and must needs be acknowledged to be one who knew
the countrey, and the constitution of the inhabitants, better than any
other man that was about his Majestie had reason to understand.
Wherefore I told the King, I thought his lordship leant my motion a
deffer ear than he would have done, if his lordship had not been thought
so uselesse a creature; and that I perceived his lordship had a desire
to have some conference with his Majestie; which being obtained, I
believed his Majestie’s request would be easilie granted, and his
expectations answered in a higher measure than it may be his Majestie
did believe. The King said, ‘_With all my hart_: and as to the other
business which so much troubles my lord, in troth I have thought it a
neglect in us heretofore; but the true reason why I did forbear to do so
was, because I thought my Lord of Worcester did not desire it, by reason
of his retiredness, unwieldiness of body, and unwillingness of mind to
stir abroad; and therefore I thought it a contentment to him to be let
alone.’ I told his Majestie, that I did verilie believe that his
Majestie was in the rights in both respects, both of his Majestie’s and
his lordship’s; and that if his Majestie had called him to councel, I do
verilie believe his lordship would have been desired to be excused; but
yet he did expect he should have been called. Whereupon the King said,
‘I pray tell my Lord of Worcester, that I did not forbear that respect
unto him out of any disestimation I had either of his wisedome or
loyaltie; but out of some reasons I had to myself, which indeed
reflected as much upon my lord as they did on me. For had he used to
have come to the councel board, it would have been said that I took no
other councel but what was conveighed to me by Jesuites, by his
lordship’s meanes: and I pray tell him that that was the true cause.’ I
told his Majestie that I would, and that I thought it an easie matter to
cause him to believe no less; but withal I intimated to his Majestie
that I knew the Marquess had an earnest desire to have some private
conference with his Majestie this night; which, if granted, it might
conduce very much to his Majestie’s behoof. The King said, ‘How can that
be?’ I told his Majestie that my lord had contrived it before his coming
to the castle, and told his Majestie of the privacie of the
conveighance. Thereat his Majestie smiled and said, ‘I know my lord’s
drift well enough: either he means to chide me, or else to convert me to
his religion.’ Whereupon I told his Majestie, I doubted not but that his
Majestie was temptation-proof as well as he was correction-free; and
that he might returne the same man he went, having made a profitable
exchange of gold and silver for words and sleep.”[250]
It seems to have been thought necessary to make a great state secret of
this conference; and, in order that the company might not observe any
communication going on between the King and the Marquess, who,
doubtless, knew his guests, he hastily made answer--“I will tell you
what you shall do, so that you shall not need to fear any such thing. Go
unto the yeoman of the wine cellar, and bid him leave the keys of the
wine cellar with you, and all that you find in your way, invite them
down unto the cellar, and shew them the keys, and I warrant you, you
shall sweep the room of them if there were a hundred; and when you have
done leave them there.”[251] This ruse appears to have been so
successful, that after Bayly published his book, some of those who had
been in Raglan denied that ever there had been private conversations
between the King and the Marquess. But Bayly’s good faith seems to have
been unjustly suspected; and he replies to the objectors with humour and
severity in his Preface to the “Apophthegms.”
The Marquis having “lain down, the Chaplain found him asleep when he
went to let him know the time to meet the King was come. He expressed
much annoyance and fear on account of what had been arranged; but after
taking a pipe of tobacco and a little glassful of _aqua mirabilis_, he
recovered his spirits.”
Shortly after the King’s departure from Raglan, an adventure occurred
which placed the venerable Marquess in a novel and rather ludicrous
position. It was this:--
“There was a certain great man in the King’s army,[252] between whom and
the house of Raglan,” says Bayly, “there was at that time animosity. The
Marquess of Worcester had heard that this party should cast a dubious
saying, as the case then stood, viz., ‘That he intended to _take_ Raglan
in his way;’ and was so far as good as his word, as that he marched into
the parke, and there drew up his men, and fac’d the Castle. Whereupon
the line was manned, and command was given that none should be suffered
to come near the line, nor within such a distance; which command was so
observed, that some of the officers of the army approaching within the
place prohibited, the centry bid stand. They did not. The centry called
upon them again to stand. They refused. The Lieutenant called upon the
centry to give fire. The centry, preferring the knowledge of his friends
to his duty to his officer, did not give fire; but swore he would give
fire if they did not stand. Whereupon one of them told him that it was
such a Generall, and wonder’d that the officer would bid the souldier
give fire upon him. The Generall forthwith coming to the drawbridge,
desired to speak with the Lord Charles; whom he no sooner saluted, but
required satisfaction for the affront. He was desired to come into the
Castle, and told that the matter should be examined before him, and if
any affront were given, he should receive satisfaction. Whereupon, being
come within the Castle, the Lieutenant was sent for; who told the
Generall, that though he knew him to be the Generall, yet, as a
souldier, he was not to take any notice of him, until such times as he
had declared himself, which when he did, he respected him accordingly.
Furthermore telling him, that he had been an old souldier, and that he
had in other parts seen rewards given unto souldiers who stood centry,
for firing upon their generall, having the like occasions; but never
knew it a fault before. All this would not serve turn. The Generall said
he was affronted, and must have satisfaction, requiring my lord to call
a councell of warre, and to do him justice; and so took his leave and
went his way. The Marquess of Worcester, sleeping upon his bed all this
while, and not dreaming of any of all this that had happened in the
interim, hearing the whole relation, he asked all his officers, ‘Whether
or no the Lieutenant had offended?’ They all answered, ‘No;’ and
commended him for what he had done. Then said the Marquess, ‘This is but
a pretence--they have a mind to quarrel with us. If ye should call a
councell of warre, and acquit him, that is what they desire, and thence
they would ground their quarrel; and if ye should inflict any punishment
upon him to give them satisfaction, that were basenesse and injustice;
therefore I will have it thus: Send a guard with him to the Generall of
such souldiers as are able to witness the truth; and let him try him at
his councell of warre, and see what law he hath for it, and so we shall
break the neck of the quarrell.’
“‘And so,’ said the Lieutenant, ‘I shall hang by the neck for my
labour!’ Whereat the Marquis replyed, ‘What friends hast thou in the
garrison?’ The Lieutenant made answer, ‘I have a wife and a daughter.’
Then said the Marquis with some vehemence, ‘I protest unto thee, if they
hang thee, I’ll marry thy wife and provide for thy daughter.’ The
Lieutenant replied, ‘I had rather you would marry my daughter, and
provide for me.’ ‘I protest,’ said the Marquess, ‘so I will; I will
marry thy daughter, and I will provide for thee an honourable grave; but
thou shalt be hanged first.’ ‘My Lord,’ said the Lieutenant, ‘shall I
bespeak my grave?’ ‘Thou shalt,’ said the Marquess. ‘Then,’ said the
Lieutenant, ‘I will be laid in the vault in Raglan Church between your
father and your grandfather; and I pray God I may be hanged before I see
you again.’ And so saying he flung out of the roome, leaving my Lord in
the merriest veine that ever I saw him in; who, remembering himself,
sent him five pieces to beare his charges.
“The Lieutenant being brought to the Generall at Monmouth, the Generall
dismissed him of his guard, and sent him to Hereford with an oath at his
heeles, that he would hang him if there were no more men in England.
“Then the Lieutenant cried out, ‘This makes for us, sure enough. I do
but think how finely I shall lie between the two old earles.’... The
particulars hereof being brought to the Marquess, his lordship was not a
little perplext between feare of having his new mistresse and loosing
his old friend; which he had run himself into between jest and earnest.
The time was come that the Marquess was not so much merrier than we
heretofore; but we were as much merrie as he upon the return of this
news. But the greatest sport of all was concerning the hopefull Lady
Marchioness, who was ever and anon enquiring and asking many questions
concerning the Marquess, whom she never saw. What manner of man he was?
How old? Whether he went with a staff, or no? What was the reason he
kept his chamber so much, and did not come abroad sometimes? What
ailments he had? And how long it was since his lady died? With many
other necessary questions to be asked by a young woman in her condition.
“Sport enough there was for both the garrisons of Raglan and Hereford.
Nevertheless, it stood the Marquess upon to be sollicitous in the
business, being sore prest between two strong passions, love and pitty.
Me he sends to solicit the businesse, with instructions; whose telling
me never so often, ‘that it was no laughing matter,’ could not make me
forbear laughing.
“But having taken my leave, his Lordship called me back again, and with
a loud and angry voice said to me, ‘Tell the Generall, that if he hang
my Lieutenant, I’ll hang the centry for not giving fire upon him when he
was bid.’ Whereupon I said unto his Lordship, ‘What doth he care how
many you hang?’ ‘God bless us all,’ said the Marquess; ‘if he neither
cares who he hangs of the King’s party, nor who other folkes hang; for
aught I know he cares not an’ we were all hanged.’
“So taking my second leave of the Marquess, and then my humble leave of
the Lady Elizabeth, who fearing nothing more but that I would prove too
good a sollicitor for her good, I went to Hereford, and made some sport
there; and so brought home the Lieutenant to his wife and daughter, who
ever after was called ‘My Lady Marquess.’”
We now proceed to that part of our subject, in which the desperate
fortunes of the Monarch are connected with his last visit to Raglan.
After the battle of Naseby, nothing prospered with the King. His army,
it was suspected, had not displayed on that day their former valour.
Though not disaffected, they were dispirited; the mass of the infantry
threw down their arms and cried for quarter; and with Cromwell’s horse
thundering in his rear, the King escaped to Leicester, and thence
through Bewdley, in Worcestershire, to Hereford. Only five days before
this ruinous defeat he had written in a letter to the Queen, that since
the rebellion began, “his affairs were never in so fair and hopeful a
way.” On the sixth he was a fugitive. But he had still hopes--strange as
it must appear--of getting together an army in South Wales.[253] At
Hereford, Prince Rupert took leave of the King, and hastened to
Bristol, that he might put it into a condition to resist the victorious
army that was speedily to make its appearance before it; and thence,
says Lord Clarendon, “his Majesty went to Abergavenny to meet the
Commissioners. As they were for the most part persons of the best
quality and the largest fortunes of these counties, so they had
manifested great loyalty and affection from the beginning of the war, by
sending many good regiments to the army; and with their sons and
brothers and nearest kindred--many of whom had lost their lives bravely
in the field. They now made as large professions as ever, and seemed to
believe that they should be able in a very short time to raise a good
army of foot, with which the King might again look upon the enemy, and
accordingly agreed what numbers should be levied upon each of the
counties.” From hence, says the historian, “his Majesty went for the
last time to Raglan Castle, the noble house of the Marquess of
Worcester, which was well fortified and garrisoned by him who remained
then in it.” There the King “resolved to stay till he saw the effect of
the Commissioners’ mighty promises. But in a short time he found that,
either by the continued successes of the Parliament armies, the
particular information whereof was every day brought to them by
intelligence from their friends, or the triumphs of their enemies in
Monmouth or Gloucester, there was little probability of their raising an
army in those parts, where all men grew less affected, or more frighted:
which produced one and the same effect.”
In his progress--for it was more like a “progress” than a
retreat--through Monmouthshire to Raglan, the King was greeted with
every expression of loyal sympathy by his Welsh subjects. In the “_Iter
Carolinum_,” printed amongst the “Somers’ Tracts,” it is recorded, “that
King Charles slept at Tredegar, the seat of Sir William Morgan, in this
county, on the seventeenth of July, 1645; and that he arrived at Sir
Philip Morgan’s,[254] Ruperra, in Glamorganshire, on the twenty-fifth,
and there remained till the twenty-ninth of the same month.” This must
have been immediately before his return to Raglan Castle, in August.
Entering upon a melancholy progress from house to house, among the
staunch royalists of South Wales, he had thus sought relief from the
gloomy reflections by which his mind was oppressed after the total
defeat at Naseby.
At Raglan, however, says the historian, “the King, as on his former
visit, passed days and weeks in sports and ceremonies, in hunting and
audience-giving;” for every effort was employed by those around him to
obliterate all recollections of the past by promises and predictions of
a brilliant future. When his Majesty re-entered the gates of
Raglan--which was indeed a harbour of refuge in his distress--the loyal
Marquess, kneeling down, kissed his Liege’s hand; and then rising up
saluted him with this compliment--“_Domine! non sum dignus_.” To which
the King replied--“My Lord, I may very well answer you again: _I have
not found so great faith, no not in Israel_. No man would trust me with
so much money as you have done.” To which the Marquess replied--“I hope
your Majesty will prove _a defender of the Faith_.”
[Illustration]
By this time Lord Herbert (Earl of Glamorgan) had sailed for Ireland to
raise, if possible, new forces for the King’s service, and the renewal
of the war. Pleased with his zeal and loyalty, his Majesty had thus
written to him from Hereford:--
“Glamorgan--I am glad to hear that you are gone to Irland, and
asseure you that as myselfe is nowais disheartned by our late
misfortune, so nether this country; for I could not have expected
more from them then they have now freely undertaken, though I had
come hither absolute victorious; which makes me hope well of the
neighbouring sheers; so that, by the grace of God, I hope shortly
to recover my late losse, with advantage, if such succours come to
me from that Kingdome which I have reason to expect; but the
circumstance of tyme is that of the greatest consequence, being
that wᶜ now is cheefliest and earnestliest recomended to you by
your most asseured, reall, constant frend,
“Charles R.”[255]
Among the numerous and more humble examples of loyal affection, by which
the fallen Monarch was soothed during his retirement in Raglan Castle,
the following is well deserving of notice:--The reverend individual,
whom his own act has immortalized, was Thomas Swift,[256] incumbent of
the neighbouring parish of Goodrich. Fully aware of the King’s pecuniary
distress, he mortgaged his estate; and with the money thus raised he
proceeded to Raglan Castle. The Governor, with whom he was personally
acquainted, asked the object of his visit, and whether he could serve
him; for he was equally esteemed as a zealous pastor, and a staunch
royalist. “I am only come,” said he, “to give his Majesty my coat;” and,
in taking it off, the Marquess pleasantly observed: “Thy coat, I fear
me, is of little worth.” “Why then,” said Swift, “take my waistcoat
also.” And here was the hidden treasure, for, on being ripped up, it was
found to contain three hundred broad gold pieces. “And the King,” says
Lord Clarendon, “received no relief that was more seasonable and
acceptable than this during the war.” Mr. Swift’s zeal and activity in
the royal cause exposed him to much danger and many sufferings. “He was
plundered,” says Heath, “more than _thirty times_ by the Parliament’s
army, and ejected from his church living. His estate was sequestered,
and he himself thrown into prison.”
At Raglan the King “stayed until news came that Fairfax, after taking
Leicester, had marched into the west, and defeated Goring’s troops at
Lamport; at the same time that the Scottish army, on its march, had
taken a small garrison between Hereford and Worcester by storm, and put
all within it to the sword;” while Prince Rupert sent for all those
foot, which were levied towards a new army to supply the garrison. But
the expectations, which had been industriously fostered in the King’s
mind of a more propitious fortune, became every day more faint. Of all
the schemes that had been set afoot for retrieving his past errors, and
regaining the hearts of his alienated subjects, not one was permitted to
prosper. And as a fatal climax to his unhappy fortunes, “it was at
Raglan Castle,” says Lord Clarendon, “that the King received the
terrible information of the surrender of Bristol (September 11, 1645),
which he so little apprehended, that if the evidence thereof had not
been unquestionable, it could not have been believed. With what
indignation and dejection of mind the King received this advertisement,
needs no other description and enlargement than the setting down in the
very words of it the letter which the King writ thereupon to Prince
Rupert; which, considering the unspeakable indulgence his Majesty had
ever shewed towards that Prince, is sufficient evidence how highly he
was incensed by that act, which yet he took some time sadly to think of
and consider, before he would allow himself to abate so much of his
natural candour towards him. As soon as he received that surprising
intelligence, the King removed from Raglan Castle.”
[Illustration: _The Gateway Towers._
Raglan Castle.]
The King took leave of Raglan Castle on the 15th of September,
mournfully observing to the Marquess, that by so doing he hoped “to ease
his lordship of a heavy burden.” His Majesty then thanked his noble and
devoted host for the large sums of money which had been advanced to him
in the course of his troubles. Whereupon the Marquess replied: “Sire, I
had your word for the money; but I never thought to have been so soon
repaid; for now that you have given me thanks, I have all I looked
for.”[257] Well might the royal guest have expressed his feelings on
quitting Raglan in the following lines, taken from his own
‘Collection:’--
I fall! I fall!
Whom shall I call?
Alas! can he be heard,
Who now is neither loved nor feared?
You, who were wont to kisse the ground,
Where’er my honour’d steps were found,
Come, catch me at my last rebound!
How each admires
Heaven’s twinkling fires,
When from their glorious seat
Their influence gives life and heat!
But, oh! how few there are--
Tho’ danger from that act be far--
Will stoop and catch a falling star.[258]
“Distracted with a thousand griefs, and accompanied by a few trusty and
disconsolate servants, the royal victim wandered about the country,
thankful to accept protection from any one who had fortune or
inclination to minister to his distress. And many ‘cruel days’ to use
his own words, were spent in weary marchings without food, narrow
escapes, and precipitate retreats, before he took his last farewell of
the land of Gwent.”[259]
On one occasion he was hotly pursued in his retreat through Shire
Newton, by a party of sixty Roundheads; but reaching a place called
Charleston Rock, near the New Passage, a fishing-boat was found, in
which he was safely ferried over the Severn into Gloucestershire. His
pursuers coming up in the meanwhile, but only to find their object
defeated, seized upon the remaining boats, and with drawn swords
compelled the fishermen to ferry them across. They hurried into the
boats, and, with the royal fugitive still in view, made all haste to be
once more on his traces. The poor fishermen, however, being royalists at
heart, had no sympathy with these king-hunters; but rowing lustily
towards a reef of rocks called the “English Stones,” within a gunshot of
the Gloucester shore, there hauled in their oars; and landing their
freight on the rocks, told them the water was so shallow that the boats
could go no further, and they might easily wade to the opposite bank.
And such, in fact, was quite practicable at low water; but, in the
present instance, the tide flowed so rapidly, that in making the attempt
to reach the opposite bank the whole party were drowned.
Informed of the catastrophe, Cromwell abolished the ferry, which was not
renewed until 1718, after a protracted lawsuit between the proprietor of
St. Pierre and the Duke of Beaufort’s guardians,[260] when it was named
the “_New Passage_.”
[Illustration: Armourer.]
The Siege.--Early the following spring a resolution was passed that the
Castle of Raglan, which had so often thrown open its gates to the King,
and still supported a garrison in his service, should be reduced without
loss of time. It was the last fortress that held out, and until its
walls were dismantled, and the garrison made prisoners, the spirit of
loyalty in Monmouth would never be thoroughly subdued. The Castle was
accordingly invested by Major-General Glenham and Sir Trevor
Williams;[261] but the latter, it has been asserted, was not very hearty
in his opposition to the King; for he had many misgivings respecting the
ultimate designs of Cromwell, who also, as it appears from existing
documents,[262] was equally suspicious of Sir Trevor. The first summons
to surrender the Castle to Parliament was received by the garrison with
indignation and defiance.
Early in June they were joined by Colonel Morgan, who, with a strong
body of men[263] from Worcester, took the command. The troops of the
garrison made divers gallant sallies, and in one of these killed a
cornet of Morgan’s, and carried off the colours. But after the surrender
of Oxford to the Parliament, Colonel Morgan had a reinforcement of two
hundred men, and being now in a position, both as regarded the works and
the efficiency of the troops, to act with vigour, he sent the following
summons:--
I.--COLONEL MORGAN TO THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER.
“MY LORD,--By his Excellency’s command, this is my second summons,
whereby you are required forthwith to deliver to me, for the uses
of both Houses of Parliament, the Castle of Raglan, with all
ordnance, arms, ammunition, and provisions, and all other
necessaries that belong to war, that are now in it; which if you
will be pleased to do, you may haply find mercy, as other garrisons
have had; and if you do refuse, expect but the ruin of yourself,
your family, and this poor distressed country. For I must acquaint
your lordship that his Excellency Sir Tho. Fairfax, having now
finished his work over the kingdom except this Castle, hath been
pleased to spare his forces for this work, which are now upon their
march this way with all materials fit for it; though I made no
doubt but I had of mine own strength sufficient to effect it. If
your lordship will deny to submit to this summons, and that more
blood must be spilt, your lordship may be confident that you shall
receive no favour from both Houses of Parliament. So, expecting
your answer this night by nine of the clock, I rest your lordship’s
servant,
“THO. MORGAN.
“FROM THE LEAGUER BEFORE RAGLAN,
“June 28, 1646.
“Upon the faith and honour of a soldier, this is a true copy of his
Majesty’s letter[264] to the Governors of Oxford, Lichfield,
Wallingford, and Worcester, and all other garrisons in England and
Wales; which I thought fit to present to your lordship, that you
may clearly see what possibility of relief you are like to have.”
II.--THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER TO COLONEL MORGAN.
“SIR,--I have received this day two advertisements from you; the
first I read, containing, as you would have me believe, a true
copy of his Majesty’s warrant to several garrisons upon honourable
terms to quit. But truly, Sir, it is not in the power of man to
make me think so unworthily of his Majesty, that to one, in the
opinion of the world, that hath given, himself and family, soe
great a demonstrance and testimony of his and their faith and
fidelitie towards him, that he would not please so much as name his
name, or Raglan. I entreat you, give me leave to suspend my
belief.[265]
“And for your second summons, it makes it too evident that it is
desired that I would die under a hedge like a beggar, having no
house left to put my head into, nor means left to find me bread.
Wherefore to give you _answer_, I make choice (if it soe please
God) rather to dye nobly, than to live with infamy. Which answer,
if it be not pleasing to you, I shall not think you worthy to be
styled by me your loving friend,
“H. WORCESTER.
“FROM MY HOUSE OF RAGLAN,
“June 28, 1646.”
This was followed by a third letter from Colonel Morgan:--
“MY LORD,--Since it is not in my power to make you nor your son
believe anything concerning the surrender of those garrisons, by
his Majesty’s order, that comes from me or any of our party: once
more, and the last before I send your answer to his Excellency Sir
Tho. Fairfax, I shall give your lordship way to send an officer,
with another of mine, to those lords in Oxford to whom his
Majesty’s letters were directed, for your better satisfaction. This
I do, my Lord, to prevent your utter ruin, and that of this poor
country, so much occasioned by your lordship’s obstinacy. I expect
your present answer, and rest your servant,
“THO. MORGAN.
“June 28th.”
IV.--THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER TO COLONEL MORGAN.
“SIR,--In respect of your mentioning of any respect or kindness
towards me, lest to be divulged to the world should do you any
prejudice, I have thought fit in your own letter to return you
thanks for the same. And for Sir Tho. Fairfax, if he were here
with all his army, he should receive no other from me than what you
have had. I hope I serve (though not so well as I should) a Master
that is of more might than all the armies in the world; and to his
holy will and pleasure I submit myself, and yourself to do what you
think fitting.--Your friend and servant,
“H. WORCESTER.
“FROM MY DWELLING AT RAGLAN,
“June 28.”
In the first week of August ensuing, General Fairfax arrived from Bath
to hasten the siege--which was in great forwardness both for works and
approaches--and then sent in another summons[266] to the Marquess:--
V.--SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX TO THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER.
“MY LORD,--Being come into these parts with such a strength as I
may not doubt but, with the same good hand of Providence that hath
hitherto blessed us, in short time to reduce the garrison of Raglan
to the obedience of the Parliament, I have, in order thereto,
thought good to send your lordship this summons, hereby requiring
you to deliver up to me, for the Parliament’s use, the said
garrison and Castle of Raglan; which, as it only obstructs the
kingdom’s universal peace, the rendition may beget such terms, as
by delay or vain hopes cannot hereafter be expected.--I remain, my
Lord, your lordship’s most humble servant,
“THO. FAIRFAX.
“LEAGUER BEFORE RAGLAN,
“August 7, 1646.
“Your lordship’s speedy answer to this summons is desired.”
VI.--THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER TO SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX.
“SIR,--Although my infirmities might justly claim privilege in so
sudden an answer; yet, because you desire it, and I am not willing
to delay your time, to your letter of summons to deliver up my
house, and the only house now in my possession to cover my head in,
these are to let you know, that if you did understand the condition
I am in, I daresay out of your judgment you will not think it a
reasonable demand. I am loth to be the author of mine own ruin on
both sides; and therefore desire leave to send to his Majesty to
know his pleasure what he will have done with his garrison. As for
my house, I presume he will command nothing; neither am I knowing
how, either by law or conscience, I should be forced out of it. To
these I desire your return, and rest your Excellency’s humble
servant,
“H. WORCESTER.
“FROM MY POOR COTTAGE AT RAGLAN,
“Aug. 7, 1646.”
VII.--SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX TO THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER.
“MY LORD,--Touching your sending to his Majesty, it is that which
hath been denied to the most considerable garrisons of England,
further than an account to his Majesty of the thing done upon the
surrender; which I do else freely grant to your lordship. And for
that distinction which your lordship is pleased to make, that _it
is your house_, if it had not been formed into a _garrison_, I
should not have troubled your lordship with a summons; and were it
disgarrisoned, neither you nor your house should receive any
disquiet from me, or any that belong unto me.
“This I thought good to return to yours, and thereby to discharge
myself, before God and the world, of all extremities and sad
consequences that will ensue upon the refusal of the rendition of
your garrison upon my summons.--I remain yours,
“THO. FAIRFAX.
“August 8.”
VIII.--THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER TO SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX.
“SIR,--I do much confide in your honour, as that being at stake,
concerning leave to send to his Majesty, and will at this time
forbear to make further motion in it; only one thing which is
extraordinary, I offer to your consideration, for the just cause,
besides my allegiance, of my reasonable request; which is, That
upon his Majesty’s promise of satisfaction, I am above 20,000
pounds out of purse; and if I should do anything displeasing unto
him, I am sure all that is lost, and no benefit to the Parliament.
If you knew how well known I was, in Henry Earl of Huntington’s
time, unto your noble grandfather at York, I am assured I should
receive that favour at your hands that safely you might afford. God
knows, if I might quietly receive my means of subsistence, and be
in security, with the Parliament’s approbation, and freed from the
malice of those gentlemen that are of the Committee within this
county, I should quietly quit myself of the garrison; for I have no
great cause to take delight in it. I have that high esteem of your
worth, nobleness, and true judgement, that knowing you will offer
nothing ignoble or unworthy for me to do, as the case stands with
me, I desire to know what conditions I may have, and I will return
you present answer. And, in the meantime, I rest your humble
servant,
“H. WORCESTER.
“August 8, 1646.”
IX.--SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX TO THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER.
“MY LORD,--According to your lordship’s desire, I have returned you
conditions, such as may be fit and satisfactory to the soldiery. To
your lordship and family I have granted quiet and security from all
violence of any that belongs to me. I would persuade your lordship
not to fear any ill or disrespect from the Committee of this
county; I shall easily reconcile that party; or that they will not
do anything but as they shall receive order from the Parliament. By
this means you are at liberty to send to the Parliament; and upon a
present surrender and submission to their mercy and favour, your
lordship cannot but think to receive better terms for yourself than
if you stand it out to the last extremity; when, besides the hazard
of your person, and of those in your family, (which I do presume
are dear to you,) and the spoil of the Castle, which cannot be
avoided in extreme undertakings against it; your lordship hath no
reason to expect better than the Marquess of Winchester received,
who, in making good Basing House to the last, narrowly escaped in
his own person, lost his friends, subjected those that escaped to
great frights and hazard, his house and estate to utter ruin, and
himself to extremity of justice.
“Touching your lordship’s 20,000 pounds, your lordship hath liberty
to solicit about that by the same hands your lordship shall give an
account of the surrender to his Majesty. I desire your lordship
upon receipt of these to dismiss my trumpeter, and to return an
answer by one of your own.
“THO. FAIRFAX.”
X.--THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER TO SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX.
“SIR,--The difficulty of resolution by the soldiers and officers
(other than I thought) causeth my request for your patience in not
giving you full answer to the conditions you sent me yesterday; but
as soon as I shall obtain it, you shall not be long without it. But
one thing, and that of moment, I desire to be satisfied in,
Whether, if any conclusion should be made, that afterwards I shall
be left to the mercy of the Parliament, for alteration at their
will and pleasures; and if it be so, I shall endeavour in vain to
study more about it. For example, in my Lord of Shrewsbury’s case,
and divers others, how conditions have been broken doth a little
affright me. I know, by your will and consent, it should never be;
but soldiers are unruly, and the Parliament unquestionable; and,
therefore, I beseech you pardon my just cause of fear, and I will
rest your humble servant,
“H. WORCESTER.
“August 11.”
XI.--SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX TO THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER.
“MY LORD,--I have perused your letter of this 11th of August. As to
your scruple, wherein you desire to be satisfied, (so far as I
understand it,) I can only give you this resolution, that what I
grant I will undertake shall be made good. As to the instance you
give in my Lord of Shrewsbury’s case, the actors in that breach
(who were none of my army) have received their censure, and by this
time I believe the execution. But here, if any conclusion be made
while I stay, I dare undertake there shall be no such thing; or, if
any, there shall be reparation.
“THO. FAIRFAX.
“August 11, 1646.”
XII.--THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER TO SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX.
“SIR,--For the better accommodation of these unhappy differences,
if you please there may be a cessation of arms and working, and to
engage your honour for the return of my commissioners to-morrow by
ten of the clock, they shall wait upon you in your Leaguer; where
they shall vindicate me from being the only obstruction of the
general peace. So, in expectation of your sudden answer, I rest
your humble servant,
“H. WORCESTER.
“August 13, 1646.”
XIII.--SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX TO THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER.
“MY LORD,--Having not yet received by any of your letters a direct
answer to the conditions I sent you, I have no grounds or
consideration for such a cessation of arms and working, as in your
letter you desire; but if it be your purpose to return your answer
by commissioners, I shall, by the hour you mention, appoint
commissioners of mine own to receive the same in the Leaguer as you
desire, and engage myself for the safe return of yours, not
exceeding six commissioners and as many servants; and, in order to
this, I shall be content there be a cessation of arms and working
from nine of the clock to-morrow morning till two in the
afternoon.--Yours,
“THO. FAIRFAX.
“Uske, August 14.”
XIV.--THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER TO SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX.
“SIR,--Had I not thought you had been in the Leaguer, to the end
that the propositions from the place, in answer to yours, might
have been first presented unto you; and to avoid delays, which I
thought your side would best like of, it was resolved to send
commissioners together with our propositions; but considering it
was otherwise, I have sent you such as I am advised unto, to take
into your consideration. And because there is some addition to
yours, I would have been glad you had heard the just reasons
thereof, to the end you might not have been persuaded to slight
them without just cause. Your pleasure for the ordering of
business, I, at your leisure, expect; and, if you please, the
dismission of this messenger; and so rest your humble servant,
“H. WORCESTER.”
XV.--SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX TO THE MARQUESS OF WORCESTER.
“MY LORD,--I have perused the propositions sent out by your
commissioners, which I find such as deserve no answer. I have
offered your lordship and the rest conditions which you may yet
have, if you accept in time. If there be any thing in them obscure,
needing explanation, or wanting circumstantials, for the better
performing of the things intended therein I shall be willing to
appoint commissioners on my part to treat with yours to that
purpose upon these propositions of mine; provided you send
commissioners instructed with power to treat and conclude, and
return your resolution herein by six of the clock in the
evening.--Yours, &c.,
“THO. FAIRFAX.
“August 14, 1646.”
[Illustration]
In the meantime the besiegers went on with their approaches toward the
Castle--their main works being not above some sixty yards distant--and
had planted four mortar pieces in one place, and two mortar pieces at
another, each mortar piece carrying a grenade shell twelve inches
diameter.
Towards the end of the siege, whilst the cannon of Fairfax was playing
upon the Castle from the neighbouring height, and when casualties within
the walls were of hourly occurrence, an incident occurred, which shows
that in these perilous times even ladies deemed it necessary to
apologise for being afraid of leaden bullets. “One evening, during the
hottest period of the cannonade,” says Dr. Bayly, “there came a musket
bullet in at the window of the withdrawing room, where my lord used to
entertain his friends with his pleasant discourses after dinners and
suppers, which, glancing upon a little marble pillar of the window, and
from thence hit the Marquess upon the side of his head, and fell down
flattened upon the table, which breaking the pillar in pieces, it made
such a noise in the room, that his daughter-in-law, the Countess of
Glamorgan, who stood in the same window, ran away as if the house had
been falling down upon her head, crying out--‘O Lord! O Lord!’ But at
length finding herself more afraid than hurt, she returned back again,
no less excusing her--as she was pleased to call it--rudeness to her
father, than acknowledging her fears to all the company. To whom the
Marquess said: ‘Daughter, you had reason to run away when your father
was knocked on the head.’ Then pausing some little while, and turning
the flattened bullet round with his finger, he further said: ‘Gentlemen,
those who had a mind to flatter me, were wont to tell me that I had a
_good head_ in my younger days; but if I don’t flatter myself, I think I
have a good head-piece in my old age, or else it would not have been
_musket proof_.’”
Of the exemplary good order observed by the household, before the
establishment of a garrison within the Castle, an eye-witness has
transmitted the following testimony:--
“I have lived in Raglan Castle,” said he, “three years, and in all that
time I never saw man drunk, nor heard an oath, amongst any of all his
(the Marquess’s) servants; neither did I ever see a better ordered
family; and that which was most wonderful unto me was, that the servants
of his house, being half Papists and half Protestants, were never at
variance in point of religion--which was brought about by prohibiting
disputations.[267] Neither was any man the less accepted for his
religion, if his _service_ were acceptable. But when the Castle was
filled with officers and soldiers, he used to be more grieved to hear
and witness the drunkenness that was then and there too much practised:
insomuch, that when some of his chief officers had told him, how that
they had fortified such and such a place so and so; and that the enemy
could not come; and that there it was impossible. ‘Ay, ay,’ said my
Lord; ‘but you have left the main place open and unprotected. You have
no fortifications against Heaven. For there is so much swearing and
drunkenness amongst you, that from thence I fear me will come our
greatest enemy, and you have made no provision against _him_.’ And,
indeed, he said justly; for, in truth, the royalists were grievously
addicted to many vices, to which, on the contrary, the companions and
followers of Cromwell were comparatively strangers.”
The importance attached by the Parliament to the reduction of Raglan
Castle is shown by the following report from their commissioner:[268]--
“Your assured friend and servant, W. C.,” (as the letter is signed,)
writes to the Parliament man from “Usk, August 15, 1646.--I shall now
give you an account how near our approaches are made unto the Castle.
That which is our maine work is about sixty yardes from theirs, and
that’s the most. We have planted four mortar pieces, each of them
carrying a grenado shel twelve inches diameter; and two mortar peeces
planted at another place carrying shels about the like compas; soe that
in case the treatye doe breake off, we are then ready to show by what
extremitye they must expect to be reduced. This we are very confident,
that the grenadoes will make them quit their workes and outhouses, and
solely betake themselves into the Castle, which indeed will be a worke
of time before we are able to undermine it, in regard we must mine down
a hill[269] under a moate, and then the workes, before we can come to
the Castle; yet we conceive it feasible to be done with some losse. Our
engineer, Captain Hooper, a painful and honest man, proceeding, as he
hath begun, with exact running trenches, which we made so secure as if
they were workes against a storme, will, with God’s blessing, come
within ten yards in a few dayes; and then, I believe, we shall make
galleries, mines, and many batteries. The General is every day in the
trenches, and yesterdaye appointed a new approache, which the engineer
of this army, who is now returned from Worcester, is to carry on with
all expedition. He has already broken the ground, throwne up approaches
of about an hundred yardes in length and circuit, and is within sixty
yards of the under part of their workes.”
The writer then proposes that the Parliament should agree to moderate
terms, and accept of an honourable answer. That the plan might succeed
he deems quite certain, though not without farther loss; and he adds, in
terms less courteous than characteristic of the times, that “it would
not be worth while to gaine this old man’s carkasse at so dear a
rate.”[270]
AUG. 14.--Fairfax appointed a new approach, which the engineer, Captain
Hooper, had so far proceeded in as to throw up approaches of an hundred
yards in circuit, making exact running trenches (as secure as if they
were works against a storm), coming within sixty yards of their works.
AUG. 15.--The Marquess sent forth his desire to treat upon the General’s
propositions; whereupon the treaty was appointed at Mr. Oates’s house,
(about a mile and a half from Raglan,) to begin at two of the clock that
afternoon. Fairfax’s commissioners were Colonel Birch, Mr. Herbert,
Quartermaster-General Grosvenor, Lieutenant-Colonel Ashfield, and Major
Tulida.
By Monday the 17th of August, two days after the date of this report,
the preliminaries for capitulation were finally arranged.[271]
Surrender.--During the blockade of Raglan, the Parliamentary General
fixed his head-quarters at Kevantilla House,[272] the residence of Mr.
Oates, about a mile and a half from Raglan; and there the treaty for the
surrender of the Castle was finally adjusted and prepared for signature.
The commission deputed for the occasion by Fairfax, were Colonel Birch,
Quarter-Master Herbert, General Grosvenor, Lieutenant-Colonel Ashfield,
and Major Tuliday. The meeting, as previously arranged, took place at
two o’clock in the afternoon of Saturday, August the fifteenth; and, on
the Monday following, the document was ratified, by appending to it the
signatures of the authorized commissioners. The capitulation was agreed
to on the following conditions:--
Article the First. The garrison, ammunition, and artillery of Raglan, to
be surrendered to General Fairfax on the third day after the
ratification of the said treaty; namely, at ten o’clock on the morning
of the Wednesday following, being the nineteenth day of August.
Article the Second, stipulated that all the officers, soldiers, and
gentlemen of the garrison, should march out with horses and arms;
colours flying; drums beating; trumpets sounding; matches lighted at
both ends; bullets in their mouths; and every soldier with twelve
charges of powder and ball; with permission to select any place, within
ten miles of the Castle, for the purpose of delivering up their arms to
the general in command; after which the soldiers were to be disbanded
and set at liberty.
Article the Third, engaged the General’s safe conduct and protection to
all the gentlemen and others who had sought refuge within the walls of
Raglan Castle to their respective homes.
Article the Fourth, was an enlargement of the preceding article, by
which three months’ protection was guaranteed to certain other
gentlemen, until they should either have made their peace with
Parliament, or departed the realm.
Article the Fifth, guaranteed the protection and care of the sick and
wounded left in the Castle.
Article the Sixth, was an indemnity for all words and acts of the
garrison during the siege of the Castle.
On Wednesday the nineteenth of August, in pursuance of these
arrangements, the Castle and Garrison of Raglan were duly surrendered to
Sir Thomas Fairfax, for the use of both Houses of Parliament. The
garrison, which at first had mustered eight hundred men, was now reduced
to less than half that number; and as certain of the warlike muniments
were becoming so diminished as to expose them at last to the chances of
seeing the Castle entered by storm, a prolonged resistance must have
been attended with disastrous consequences.
“The garrison had no sooner marched out,” says an eye-witness, “than
Fairfax entered the Castle, took a view of it, had some conversation
with the Marquess, and then, quitting the scene of his last operation in
the way of siege, proceeded to Chepstow, where he was received in
triumph by the committee; and, after a brief halt in the Castle,
returned to his head-quarters at Bath,”
“A conqueror; and blushing on his sword
The stains of blood, by loyal Raglan pour’d.”
Yet Fairfax, as far as lay in his power, was very exact in observing
every condition to which he was a party. It is recorded to his honour,
that, “far from allowing violence, he would not even permit insults, or
expressions of triumph over the unfortunate Royalists.” Something of
this generous bearing towards his opponents may be observed in his
correspondence with the Marquess of Worcester. He is painted by
historians as equally eminent for personal courage and for humanity; and
though strongly infected with prejudices, or principles derived from
religious and party zeal, he never seems, in the course of his public
conduct, to have been diverted, by private interest or ambition, from
adhering strictly to these principles. Sincere in his professions,
disinterested in his views, open in his conduct, “he had formed,” says
Hume,[273] “one of the most shining characters of his age, had not the
extreme narrowness of his genius in everything but in _war_, and his
embarrassed and confused elocution on every occasion but when he gave
orders, diminished the lustre of his merit, and rendered the part which
he acted, even when vested with the supreme command, but secondary and
subordinate.”
With this just tribute to his merits as a man and a soldier, we take
leave of the Conqueror of Raglan, annexing the following
Anecdotes.--When Fairfax, as we learn from the same authority, laid
siege to Raglan Castle, and fair terms were offered to all the garrison,
the Marquess only excepted, the generous old Nestor entreated his
friends to accept the proposal, and allow _him_ to be the ‘Jonas.’ But
this proposition, it may be readily believed, had the opposite effect,
of strengthening their determination to stand by him to the last man. In
thanking his officers for their devotedness, he added, in his own
peculiar way, “I do not much like that way of embalming neither--to be
served up to my audit as a thing newly taken out of the cost of many
friends’ blood.”
In the conversation above alluded to, when Fairfax took possession of
the Castle, the Marquess is said to have made a jocular request,
bespeaking the General’s indulgence in favour of some pigeons that still
kept possession of their ancient haunt. To which he gravely replied,
that he was glad to perceive his Lordship in so ‘merrie’ a frame of
mind. Whereupon the Marquess told him the following story:--
“There were two rogues once going up Holborn in a cart to be hanged; but
the one being very jocund on so serious an occasion, gave offence to his
companion, who, being very downcast, reproved him. ‘Tush, man,’ said the
other, ‘thou art a fool; thou wentest a thieving, and never once
thoughtest of what would become of thee; wherefore, being on a sudden
surprised and taken, thou fallest into such a shaking fit, that I am
ashamed to see thee in such a pitiful condition. Whereas I was resolved
to be hanged before I fell to stealing, which is the reason I go so
composedly unto my death.’ So, in my own case,” continued the Marquess,
“I resolved to undergo whatsoever--even the worst--evils that you were
able to lay upon me, before I took up arms for my sovereign; and,
therefore, wonder not that I am so _merrie_.”
The fall of Raglan Garrison was a source of much triumph and
congratulation to the Parliamentary forces. “There were delivered up
with it,” says Rushworth, “twenty pieces of ordnance, but only three
barrels of gunpowder; for within the walls they had a mill with which
they could make a barrel a day. There was found, however, ‘great store
of corn and malt, wine of all sorts, and beer in abundance;’ but hay and
forage for their horses had been so completely exhausted, that these
noble animals were almost starved to death, and ‘had like to have eaten
one another for want of meat, had they not been tied with chains.’”
The captors found also great store of goods and rich furniture in the
Castle, which Fairfax committed to the care and custody of Mr. Herbert,
commissioner of the army, Mr. Roger Williams, and Major Tuliday, or
Tulida, to be inventoried. And in case any inhabitants of the country
could make a just claim to them--as having been violently taken from
them, or they compelled to bring them thither--that they should have
them restored.
Agreeably to the terms of surrender, as recorded in the history of the
siege, there marched out of the Castle--“The Marquess of Worcester, then
in the eighty-fourth year of his age; the Lord Charles, the Marquess’s
sixth son, Lieutenant-Governor of the Castle under his father: [he
subsequently retired to Flanders, and died a canon of Cambray;] the
Countess of Glamorgan; the Lady Jones; Sir Philip Jones; Dr. Bayly, so
often quoted in the preceding narrative; Commissary Gwilliam; four
Colonels; eighty-two Captains; sixteen Lieutenants; six Cornets; four
Ensigns; four Quartermasters; fifty-two Esquires and Gentlemen.”
It is worthy of record in this place, that, of all the forts and
garrisons in the King’s interest, those of Raglan and Pendennis endured
the longest sieges, and held out the last of any forts or castles in
England--being bravely defended by two persons of very great age--and
were at length delivered up within a day or two of each other. “Raglan,”
says Lord Clarendon, “was maintained with extraordinary resolution and
courage by the old Marquess of Worcester (then 85) against Fairfax
himself, until it was reduced to the greatest necessity. Pendennis
refused all summons; admitting no treaty till all their provisions were
so far consumed that they had not victuals left for four-and-twenty
hours; and then they treated, and carried themselves in the treaty with
such resolution and unconcernedness, that the enemy concluded they were
in no straits, and so gave them the conditions they proposed, which were
as good as any garrison in England had accepted. The governor of
Pendennis was John Arundel of Trerice, in Cornwall, an old gentleman of
near fourscore years of age, who, with the assistance of his son
Richard, afterwards made a baron in memory of his father’s service, and
his own eminent behaviour throughout the war, maintained and defended
the same to the last extremity.”[274]
Returning to the subject of Raglan, we must not overlook the following
predictions, as calculated to excite no little attention in times when
witchcraft, sorcery, and apparitions, were admitted as articles of
popular belief.
Prophecies.--Of the prophetic warnings which, from time to time, and
particularly during the siege, had taken possession of the vulgar mind
regarding the fall of Raglan and its hereditary lords, the following
passage is sufficiently characteristic:--One evening, during the
progress of the siege, one of his officers was relating to the Marquess
how strangely the narrator, Dr. Bayly, had escaped a shot by means of
the iron bar of a window that looked out upon the leaguer. Standing, for
example, in a window of the castle, there came a musket bullet and hit
full against the edge of an iron bar of a chamber window, so that it
parted the bullet in halves, the bar expatiating itself by degrees
towards the middle; “one half of the bullet,” said he, “flew by me on
the one side, and the other half on the other side; so that, by God’s
providence, I had no hurt.”
“The Marquess hearing this, asked me in what chamber it was. I told him.
His Lordship then said, as I remember, ‘The window was cross-barred; and
you will never believe me,’ said he emphatically, ‘how safe it is to
stand before the Cross, when you face your enemy!’”
But returning to the subject of predictions:--“Never,” says the family
historian, “never was there a noble house so pulled down by
_prophecies_--ushered into its ruin by predictions, and so laid hold
upon by signes and tokens! I shall tell you no more,” he continues, “but
what I have both read and seen long before the fall of that proud
fabric, which had the honour to fall the last of any that stood upon the
tearmes of honour. Now there was one old book of prophecies that was
presented to the Marquess, because it so much concerned Raglan Castle,
wherein there were these predictions: namely, That there should come an
Earl that should first build a _white_ gate before the castle-house, and
after that should begin to build a _red_ one; and before that red one
should be finished, there should be wars over all the land.”
Now all this was fulfilled in the Marquess’s own day, who, having built
the one gate and begun the other, yet by reason of the distractions of
the time, was forced to discontinue the latter, which at the time of the
siege remained unfinished. Some one standing by while this prophecy was
mentioned, exhorted the Marquess--half in jest, half in earnest--to make
haste and finish his red-gate house, because we should have no quiet
until that were up.
“Hark’ye,” said the Marquess, “nobody shall ever prophesy so much money
out of my purse in such times as these! Besides, the prophet does not
say _until_, but _before_--‘before the red gate is up;’ and, for aught I
know, if I should make haste with that building, I should hasten the war
to my own sorrow; for the prophet says, ‘before the red-gate house shall
be finished, there shall be wars all over the land.’ But what if I had
built neither the one nor the other, how could this prophecie have
concerned me?”
“Oh, my Lord,” said one of the company, “it is done; and you could not
otherwise choose but to do what you did.”
“Ay; but I can choose,” said the Marquess, “whether I will _believe_ the
prophet or not.”
“Another prophecie there was,” continues our authority, “that the king
of the country should lose a great battle, [Naseby,] and afterwards fly
to Raglan Castle for safety; that the enemy should pursue him; and that
after a short time he should leave the Castle, and that the enemy should
besiege and set fire to the Castle wall. All of which was literally
fulfilled.”
Moreover it was said, that “an eagle should come into the park and be
there slain, which should be a forerunner to the destruction of that
house; which I saw literally performed; but yet executed by one that
_never_ heard of the prophecie. It was furthermore foretold, that a
cloud of bats should hang over the Castle before its final demolishment;
this, three days before, all the Castle beheld to their no small
astonishment, and it continued a quarter of an hour, about twilight, so
thick that you could not, towards the middle of them, see the sky,
though clear. Being shot at with hail-shot, some of them fell down, and
the rest flew away.
“The Marquess being told of this, asked what those kind of creatures
might signify. Some about him answered, that they were scripture emblems
of ruin and desolation.[275] He then asked if they were all gone. It was
told him that they were. Whereupon the Marquess asked us whether or no
the enemy had begirt us round. It was answered that they had. ‘Then,’
said his Lordship, ‘I am glad of it; for then those emblems of ruin
cannot fly away from us, but they must also fly over the heads of the
enemy.’”
The Chaplain then proceeds, according to the superstitious belief of the
times, to relate the following prediction regarding the King
himself:--“The strangest prophecie of all,” he affirms, “both for
signification and accomplishment, is this, which I read before I saw it
in this book, and fourteen years before the war.” He then gives it in
the Welsh language, and explains that _fab-anne_, as it is one word,
signifies a baby, and joined to another Welsh word, should imply a
crowned infant, that, on growing up to man’s estate, and ruling these
realms for a season, should at last “fall by the stroke of an _axe_,”
or, “he shall be slain with an axe.” We shall not detain our readers by
following the Chaplain through the various arguments by which he appears
to establish the truth of this singular prediction; but, referring them
to the “Apophthegms,” in which it is recorded, we proceed to another
portion of our history.
As soon as the Castle was fairly occupied by the new garrison, the work
of demolition began. The peasantry were summoned to their aid; but on
the great tower their united labours made but slight impression. So,
“after battering the top with pickaxes,” they resolved to effect their
purpose more expeditiously, and, transferring their implements to the
foundation, succeeded in undermining it. As they proceeded, the gaps
were propped up with timber, and when the personal risk became too
imminent to continue the work, they set fire to the timber, and the
instant the charred props gave way, down came a solid mass of the
Tower of Gwent, half filling the moat, where it now lies; a specimen of
as firmly compacted a structure as ever was framed by the hand of man.
The mortar, indeed, seems harder and more durable than the materials
which it cements together. Of its massive construction the annexed
woodcut, showing the staircase in the centre of the wall, and the
engravings opposite, give a very clear and distinct notion.
[Illustration]
Much treasure, it was conjectured, had been thrown into the moat during
the siege, while under the apprehension of being given up to plunder; so
the people were set to work with axes, shovels, and pickaxes, to drain
off the water, and collect the treasure. But nothing valuable being
discovered in the moat, they were next set to cut the stanks of the
fish-ponds, where they had store of very large carp and other fish. From
these reservoirs, during many generations, the family had drawn an
abundant supply for the table; and in times when the fasts of the Church
were rigorously observed, fish-ponds were indispensable to every large
establishment. The artificial oak roof of the great hall, already
noticed in the introductory sketch, could not be removed with advantage;
it was therefore allowed to remain full twenty years after the siege.
But the sheet-lead with which it was covered was found to be a very
“convertible material,” and was therefore rolled up, sent to market, and
the product paid over to the Parliamentary Exchequer.
Above thirty vaults of all sorts of rooms and cellars, and three arched
bridges, are yet standing; but the most curious arch of the chapel, and
rooms above, with many others, are totally destroyed. Many coins of
Queen Elizabeth have been found, but none deserving of preservation from
the crucible of the silversmith, to whom they were speedily consigned by
the finders.
These dreary “souterrains,” in the present day, are, of course, haunted
by goblins, or other beings with lungs not likely to be affected by the
damp and mephitic gases, which they are said to exhale. Never was place
better adapted for unearthly visitants; and wherever blood has been
spilt or treasure concealed, the spirits of vengeance or avarice seize
upon the spot as their own exclusive territory. As it appeared to us,
however, the _genii loci_ were spirits of a very different stamp--beings
with whom the painter, the philosopher, and the poet, would choose to
make their abode. Not so the cicerone who showed these mysterious
caverns to Bloomfield. “Look down there,” said she, pointing to the
great cellar; “something very awful; candles wont burn there! Some
people says it’s because the damp chokes ’em. For my part, I think it’s
the devil himself; and not much fancying to be seen at his work, he
blows ’em out. Well, sir, you may smile as you please; but one puff of
brimstone’s enough for me. Let’s step into the Fountain Court. All the
wine’s gone; so a cellar with only bad spirits in it, is hardly worth
notice.”
Passing from the cellar to the dairy, we may observe that during the
siege, and for many generations previously, the fine meadows on the
banks of the Olwy, in the adjoining parish of Llandenny, were
appropriated as the dairy-farm of the Castle.
The Marquess’s Library was considered one of the best selected, and most
extensive in Europe; and we cannot doubt that the Gallery of Paintings
bore equal and corresponding testimony to the liberality and taste of
the noble owner.[276]
The loss sustained by the family in the immediate destruction of the
castle and woods, according to the printed statement, was computed at
one hundred thousand pounds; besides enormous sums furnished to his
Majesty for the raising and equipment of two armies, and the maintenance
of a numerous garrison, of which the daily expenses alone must have
required a princely revenue. With this evidence of the Marquess’s
resources, it is not surprising that he should be described by Clarendon
as “the most moneyed man of the kingdom.” The siege was followed by the
sequestration and sale of the whole estate, which, by the parliamentary
audit of 1646, amounted to twenty thousand pounds per annum, and
remained in the hands of Cromwell till the Restoration, a period of
fourteen years. All the old timber in the parks adjacent was cut down
and sold; the lead was stript from the roof of the great hall, and sold
for six thousand pounds; and a quantity of the timber was carried to
Bristol, and there used in rebuilding the wooden houses upon the old
bridge, which had recently been destroyed by fire. But the loss of the
library was in every sense a national loss, for in this, among many rare
invaluable manuscripts, were the archives of Gwent, with the earliest
records of Welsh literature. “One of these manuscripts,” says the late
Mr. Thomas,[277] “was an interesting work by Geraint Bardd Glass y
Cadair, an illustrious Welshman, who flourished about the ninth century.
He was the first who composed a Welsh grammar, a work that was revised
by Einion and Edeyrn, which form and arrangement are now extant; but the
original MS. was in the Raglan library at its capitulation.”
In his palmy days, long before he was created Marquess, the good Earl
lived in princely state in this Castle. Surrounded by faithful friends,
numerous retainers, and a household that, by its daily expenditure,
bespoke almost unlimited resources, he enjoyed in age all the happiness
to which men look forward as the reward and solace of a virtuous youth;
for, though long practised in the offices of Court, he could still
relish the sweets of domestic retirement, the humanizing influence of
science, and the conversation of pious and learned men. He was a friend
of literature, a pattern of religious consistency, an example of loyalty
which no reverses could shake; and when at last plunged into the deepest
adversity, stript of his property, bent down with years, and suffering
from bodily pain, he maintained a degree of mental serenity that
softened the remembrance of his wrongs, showed the true foundation of
his faith, and enabled him to view every dispensation of good or evil as
coming from God, and intended, by weaning his thoughts from this world,
to give him nearer and clearer views of heaven. Reduced in four short
years from the height of prosperity into the very abyss of
adversity--his home desolate, the prospects of his family blasted, his
friends hopeless or in prison, himself an inmate of the Tower--it is
impossible to withhold our sympathy from a man who, in no circumstances,
forgot the true nobility of his nature, and the obligations of his
creed; but in every trial could exclaim, in the words of his own
motto--_Mutare vel timere sperno_.
“Go, empty joyes,
With all your noyse,
And leave me here alone,
In sweet sad silence to bemoane
Your vaine and fleet delight;
Whose danger none can see aright,
Whilst your false splendour dims his sight.
Go, and insnare,
With your false ware,
Some other easie wight,
And cheat him with your flattering light;
Rain on his head a shower
Of honours, favour, wealth, and power--
Then _snatch it from him in an hour_.”[278]
On his melancholy departure from these ancestral halls, which he was
never more to behold, the venerable Marquess--accompanied by certain
members of his family and a few tried friends, among whom was the
devoted Bayly--was conducted to London, and placed under the custody of
the Black Rod. Expecting to be treated as a declared enemy of
Parliament, notwithstanding the terms of capitulation, his lordship was
agreeably surprised to find the severity, with which such cases were
usually visited, was relaxed in his favour. “Lord bless us,” said he to
Dr. Bayly, who never left him, “what a fearful thing was this Black Rod
when I heard of it first! It did so run in my mind, that it made an
infliction out of mine own imagination. But when I spoke with the man
himself, I found him a very civil gentleman; and I saw no black rod! So,
methinks, if we would not let these troubles and apprehensions of ours
be made worse by our own fears, no rods would be black.” And although--
“The pride of life has vanished,
And here I stand alone,
Degraded, stript, and banished
From all that was mine own;
Yet in dreams, when friends surround me
With the loyal and the true,
The youthful links that bound me,
Seem all riveted anew.
When I hear their loyal voices,
I half forget my wrongs,
And again my heart rejoices
In our good old loyal songs.
Pent up in these dark regions,
The only gems I boast,
Are my _honour and allegiance_--
All else of earth is lost.”[279]
But we shall leave the worthy Marquess for a time, to observe what is
passing in that dearly beloved, but now desolate mansion, the gates of
which were now closed upon him for ever.
[Illustration]
The woodcut here introduced represents one of the richly ornamented, but
now dilapidated, windows of the front range of the Castle.
Of the settling of some portion of the Marquess of Worcester’s estates
upon Cromwell, we take the following particulars from a popular writer
of our own times:--“The Commons,” he observes, “now dealing with
delinquents, do not forget to reward good servants--to ‘conciliate the
grandees,’ as splenetic Walker calls it. For about two years (writing
after the conclusion of the war) there has been talk and debate about
settling £2,500 a year on Lieutenant-General Cromwell; but difficulties
have arisen. First, they tried Basinghouse lands, the Marquis of
Winchester’s, whom Cromwell had demolished; but the Marquis’s affairs
were in disorder. It was generally found that the Marquis had only a
life-rent there--only Abbotson and Itchin in that quarter could be
realized. Order thereupon to settle lands of papists and delinquents to
the requisite amount wheresoever convenient. To settle especially what
lands the Marquis of Worcester had in that county of Southampton; which
was done, though still with insufficient result. Then came the army
quarrels, and an end of such business. But now, in the Commons’
Journals, March 7th, this is what we read:--‘An ordinance for passing
unto Oliver Cromwell, Esquire, Lieutenant-General, certain lands and
manors in the counties of Gloucester, Monmouth, and Glamorgan, late the
Earl of Worcester’s, was this day read third time; and, upon the
question, passed and ordered to be sent unto the Lords for their
concurrence.’” Oliver himself, we shall find, has been dangerously sick;
and the following is what Clement Walker reports upon the matter of the
grant:--“The sixth of March brought an ordinance to settle two thousand
five hundred pounds a year of land out of the Marquis of Worcester’s
estate--the old Marquis of Worcester at Raglan--father of the Lord
Glamorgan, who, in his turn, became Marquis of Worcester, and wrote the
‘Century of Inventions.’ But £2,500 a year out of the old Marquis’s
estate upon Lieutenant-General Cromwell! I have heard some gentlemen,
that knew the manor of Chepstow and the other lands, affirm that in
reality they are worth £5,000, or even £6,000 a year. You see,”
continues he, “though they have not made King Charles a ‘glorious king,’
they have settled a crown revenue upon Oliver, and have made _him_ as
glorious a king as ever John of Leyden was.”[280]
* * * * *
In addition to the personal anecdotes, or ‘pithy sayings,’ already
introduced, the following are too original and piquant to be
overlooked:--“We were talking one day,” says the family chronicler, “of
an old drunken fellow, who having used his body to sad disorder in
drinking all his lifetime, and at last giving it over, he presently
died. The fact being thus brought before him, the Marquis observed,
‘there was nothing to be wondered at in such a termination of the man’s
life; for if you take a brand,’ said he, ‘out of the fire that is
thoroughly burnt, it will fall to pieces; but if you let it lie there
still, it may remain a pretty while before it is turned to ashes.’”
This clearly shows that his Lordship was not a novice in the science of
pathology; for, had he made the ‘anatomy of drunkenness’ his particular
study, he could not have expressed himself by a figure that more
completely illustrates the case. The burnt log may not only last longer,
but also preserve its shape, and diffuse light and heat through the
whole apartment, while it remains in the fire; but if suddenly removed,
and the fire extinguished, it is soon transformed into a heap of black
ashes. The comparison applies very forcibly to those in whom the
pernicious habit of spirit-drinking has been long a rooted evil. If they
suddenly reform, the constitution--to use the same figure--has been so
thoroughly carbonized, that, on the artificial temperature being
withdrawn, it breaks down like the charred firebrand and is
extinguished; but if cautiously and gradually withdrawn, before the
charring process has reached the core, it may live to furnish a better
light than any that could be expected from it while in the furnace of
dissipation. In the Marquess’s time, as already noticed, the habit of
drinking was carried to a most fatal excess; and we may readily believe
that the ‘apophthegm’ here recorded, was the result of personal
observation among the troops of his own garrison, who--
“Red-hot with drinking;
So full of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces.”
As the preceding anecdote shows the venerable Marquess as a pathologist,
so the following exhibits him in the more congenial character of a
quaint theologian:--“I was walking one day with his lordship,” says the
narrator, “in the private walk about the Great Tower,[281] and there we
spied where a bird had made her nest, whom we disturbed from hatching
her young ones, and sitting upon her eggs; which act of nature my lord
compared to the manner of the creation: ‘For,’ said he, ‘God having made
his nest in the world, and brought forth his young at first imperfected,
did by his Spirit _incubate_, and by his wings of prudence spread over
them, he gave them life and power; and by his word he brake the
shell--_et sic pullulavit mundum_.’” This method of giving a quaint and
solemn turn to the most familiar incidents of life was characteristic of
the times, and often introduced into their homilies by the clergy, who
made use of the most homely figures to illustrate some of the highest
questions in theology. But from the Marquess of Worcester, then at a
very advanced age, the effort to extract a moral, or to expound a
scriptural text, came very gracefully; and he omits no opportunity, as
we perceive, of improving others, by directing their thoughts to those
passages of scripture with which his own mind was familiar. It is almost
impossible, however, to resist the ludicrous ideas which religious
sentiment is made to conjure up when employed by the Parliamentary
leaders, and those irreverent applications of scripture which are to be
found, not only in their daily conversations, but in their speeches, and
even dispatches. _Cant_ was the fashion of the day; and where a letter
was not profusely interlarded with the language and figures of Holy
Writ, the author was liable to be suspected of indifference or
disaffection to the cause.
“An evil soul, producing holy witness,
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek----”
“And thus he clothes his naked villany
With old odd ends stol’n forth of Holy Writ.”
The Marquess’s contempt of hypocrisy and deception is exemplified in
another apophthegm:--“A Roman Catholic being sorely pressed to take the
oath of supremacy, and being acquainted with another gentleman, who was
a Protestant, and so like unto him that you could hardly distinguish
them whilst they were together, much less asunder,--this _imago
sui_--this lifelike
[Illustration: _The Keep Tower, from the Moat._
Raglan Castle.]
resemblance--as if Nature herself had chosen him to be his
representative--the right stone being pulled out, and a counterfeit set
in the right ring--and what with the likeness of his countenance, and
the identity of apparel, he passed for current; which jest my Roman
thought so good, that he must needs brag of it to the Marquess. But my
lord no way liked it; asking him--‘Would you put another upon doing that
which you would not do yourself? What if the devil--you two being so
like one another--should mistake you for him? I assure you he would go
neare to mar the conceit.’ For, he might have added, though honesty be
no Puritan, yet it will do no hurt.”
“Mine honour is my _life_; both grow in one;
Take honour from me, and my life’s undone.”
In the next passage, the Marquess undertakes the duty of admonishing a
party who had come to visit him; and his method of doing so is somewhat
amusing. We shall give the lecture, as nearly as we can, in his
chaplain’s own words:--“There was a new-married couple,” says he,
“presented before the Marquess. The bride was a goodly proper woman, her
face well-featured, an excellent eye she had, but she was pitifully
disfigured with the smallpox. The Marquess, looking much upon her, and
saying nothing to her for a long while, we all knew that silence was in
labour for some notable production. At last he advances toward the young
bride, and asked her: ‘Gentlewoman, do you know why it is said that God
Almighty created man and builded woman?’ The lady, somewhat out of
countenance, answered, ‘No, indeed, my lord.’ The Marquess asked her
again: ‘Do you know why you women are called housewives?’ ‘I think, my
lord,’ said the bride, ‘because good wives should keep at home, and not
gad abroad.’ ‘It is a good answer,’ said the Marquess, ‘but not the
right one; for women may be bad wives at home, as well as abroad;
otherwise they would never scold their husbands out of doors. The answer
to my first question is: Woman is not said to be _made_ as Adam was,
which only signifies plain work; but to be _built_, which signifies
curiosity and contrivance; and, therefore, as to my second question, a
woman is called a housewife, because she is a house out of which all the
royal families of kings and emperors derive their extract. Neither are
you only compared to houses; but unto cities, kingdoms, churches, and
commonwealths. But do you know what house you are like?’ ‘No, indeed, my
lord,’ answered the bride. ‘Why, then, I’ll tell you,’ resumed the
Marquess; ‘when God builded the first woman, he made her his storehouse,
wherein he had laid up all the race of mankind, wherewith he replenished
the whole earth. But I must tell you, my lady, God Almighty did not make
you coaches nor waggons, that you should be always gadding about.’
Whereat the bridegroom made answer: ‘My lord, I thank you for this; I
hope my wife will remember it.’ ‘My lord,’ said the young bride, ‘you
will read such a lecture to my husband, that he will never let me go
abroad.’ ‘Oh no, my lady,’ said the Marquess, ‘he must not debar you of
that liberty, provided you never go abroad but when you go out like the
snaile; who seldom stirs abroad but whilst that blessing, the dew of
heaven, is upon the earth, that she may gather benefit; and by her
greatest care, and equal management, still carries her house upon her
back.’ ‘Oh, my lord,’ said she, ‘if I should goe abroad like the snaile,
I should carry not only a house upon my back, but horns upon my
forehead!’ ‘No, lady,’ said the Marquess; ‘though she pockes at you, yet
they are not horns; the snaile can soon draw them in if you touch them,
which no horned creature can perform; but she carries them in her head
to teach you what you should provide, and bear in mind against you go to
hay-making.’
“But the Marquess fearing he had a little displeased the young couple,
he thought to make amends by the following, though somewhat equivocal,
discourse:--‘Sir,’ said he to the bridegroom, ‘you know I have compared
your wife unto a building, and I much commend your choice, for a goodly
house should not be chosen for the smoothness or whiteness of the
wall--for such a one may be but a dairy-house or a milk-house; nor
according to the colours or paintings of the outside--for such a one may
be but a tavern or an alehouse; but if I see a house that is lofty and
stately built, and hath fair windows, though the outside be but
rough-cast, yet I am sure there are goodly rooms therein.’
“And so,” adds Bayly, “both parties were well pleased.” For what the
Marquess meant to express by this string of similes was, that although
the lady was much disfigured by the smallpox, yet her fine expressive
eyes, intellectual forehead, noble carriage, and cultivated mind, amply
atoned for accidental disfigurement; and left a balance in her favour
which no outward appearance could disparage or conceal.
These anecdotes of an octogenarian, however unsuited to modern ideas,
and of rather doubtful merit on the score of compliment, are
characteristic of times when the court-jester was still thought a
necessary appendage to a great household; and when riddle and allegory
were the daily vehicles of political wit and private satire, as well as
the legitimate promoters of loyalty, mirth, and good-fellowship. That
they were considered by Dr. Bayly himself--a grave and learned man--as
reflecting honour upon the Marquess who uttered them, and creditable to
his own taste and industry in transmitting them to posterity, is a proof
that, agreeably to the taste of the age, they were fully entitled to the
distinction of ‘apophthegms.’
Here follows another, in a more serious and figurative sense, to which
Juxon himself would not have objected, even from the pulpit:--“We were
talking upon one occasion of Christ’s miracles, more particularly of his
turning water into wine, and of the five loaves and two fishes. ‘Truly,’
said the Marquess, ‘these miracles He works amongst us every day; but
they are so ordinary, or familiar, that we take no notice of them. God
sends rain upon the earth; this water gets up into the vine, and the
sappe of the vine-tree God turneth into wine. And as few graines of
corne as will make _five loaves_ being covered in the earth, will
multiply and encrease to such advantage as will feed five thousand with
bread; and _two fishes_ will bring forth so many fishes as will suffice
so many mouths.’” It was by these serious and intelligible, as well as
original, remarks upon subjects accidentally brought out in
conversation, that the Marquess sought to impress upon all around him
those religious sentiments and convictions which he had himself imbibed
by diligent study of the Scriptures; the benefit of which he daily
acknowledged, when overtaken by the accumulated evils of age and almost
unparalleled adversity.
“Such a house broke--
So noble a master fallen! All gone--
And not one friend to take his fortune by the arm!”
* * * * *
We now turn to the faithful friend who has recorded these anecdotes of
his illustrious patron; who attended him during the whole progress of
the siege, and, after the closing scene at Raglan, accompanied him to
London, soothed him under the new series of afflictions to which he was
there exposed, and never left him until he saw the Master whom he loved
and honoured consigned to his final resting-place in the Beaufort Chapel
at Windsor. This companion, friend, and counsellor, was Dr. Bayly; and,
although our notice must be brief, it is a grateful task to commemorate
the virtues of a man, whose name has almost passed into oblivion; but
whose loyal devotion, genius, talent, and misfortune, justly entitle him
to a place in the same page that records the merits and sufferings of
Henry, first Marquess of Worcester.
Dr. Thomas Bayly was the fourth and youngest son of Dr. Lewis Bayly,
Bishop of Bangor. After finishing his curriculum at the University of
Cambridge, and receiving the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1638, he was
presented by King Charles to the subdeanery of Wells. In the troubles
that continued to distract the nation, he took an active and unremitting
interest; and having retired with other loyalists to Oxford in 1644, he
was there created Doctor of Divinity. Previously to the battle of
Naseby, he had accepted Lord Worcester’s appointment as chaplain to the
household; and, as we have seen in the preceding account, acted in
several instances as confidential adviser between the King and the
Marquess. He was present during the whole course of the siege of Raglan,
more as a soldier than a chaplain, and took his full share of the perils
and responsibilities in which the officers of the garrison were then
involved.
When terms of capitulation were finally tendered by General Fairfax, and
accepted by the Marquess, Dr. Bayly was employed to draw up the articles
upon which the garrison was to be disbanded: and when the castle was
delivered up to the besiegers, he accompanied the Marquess to London,
attended him during his imprisonment as a friend and servant, consoled
him as a minister of religion, vindicated his character, advocated his
rights, and, when the final hour arrived, he performed over his grave
the last sad offices of religion and humanity.
After this event, Dr. Bayly repaired to the Continent, where he
continued to reside, chiefly in France, until the “martyrdom of King
Charles,” when he returned to England, and published the work already
mentioned, entitled, “Certamen Religiosum; or, a Conference between King
Charles I. and Henry, late Marquess of Worcester, concerning Religion,
in Raglan Castle, anno 1646.” This conference, however, was believed by
many to whom he stood opposed, to have no real foundation in truth; and
to be merely sent forth as a prelude to his declaring himself a convert
to the Roman Catholic faith; or, in the original words, to his “becoming
a Papist.”
In the course of the same year he published another work, entitled, “The
Royal Charter granted unto Kings by God himself,” &c.; to which is
added, “A Treatise,” wherein is proved that Episcopacy is _jure divino_.
By these writings he incurred the heavy displeasure of the
Government--to which all such topics were obnoxious--and the author was
committed to Newgate, where he languished for some time. But at length,
a favourable opportunity having been presented, he made his escape into
Holland, where he carried his religious views into immediate practice,
and became a zealous Roman Catholic.
Previous to this date, and during his confinement in Newgate, he wrote a
piece, entitled, “Herba Parietis; or, the Wallflower, as it grows out of
the stone chamber belonging to the metropolitan prison; being an
historie which is partly true, partly romantic, morally divine; whereby
a marriage between Reality and Fancy is solemnized by Divinity.”[282]
Shortly after this publication, he quitted Holland, and took up his
residence at Douay in France, where he sent forth another book, with the
title of “The End to Controversy between the Roman Catholic and
Protestant Religions, justified by all the several manner of ways
whereby all kinds of controversies, of what nature soever, are usually
or can possibly be determined.”[283] This was followed by “Dr. Bayly’s
Challenge,” the last of his published works; after which he proceeded to
Italy, where he spent the residue of his days, and died, as his
biographers conclude, in poverty and distress. It is more likely,
however, that, after having, by his controversial talents, rendered some
service to the church of his adoption, he retired into a monastery, and
there ended his chequered pilgrimage in exercises of devotion. This,
however, is matter of conjecture, for he is said by Dodd to have died in
the family of Cardinal Ottoboni; while Dr. Trevor, Fellow of Merton
College, who travelled in Italy in 1659, reports that he died in a
public hospital, and that he had seen his grave. His fate, however, like
that of many others--driven into involuntary exile by similar causes--is
involved in a mystery which no recent attempt has been made to
elucidate. _Requiescat in pace._
To the books or pamphlets above named, Dr. Bayly received various
replies, which showed that, by their spirit and execution, they had
excited no little attention among the able and fierce controversialists
of that day. Among those who took the field against him were Christopher
Cartwright, L’Estrange, Robert Sanderson, Peter Heylin, and others.
A “Life of Fisher, Bishop of Rochester,” is also ascribed to the pen of
Dr. Bayly; but his title to that work is not fully substantiated. His
Dedication of “Worcester’s Apophthegms,” to the second Marquess, author
of “A Century of Inventions,” is manly and elegant. The conclusion is in
these words:--“I layd your noble father in his grave with mine own
hands; and I could not let a memorial of him lye buried under my own
manuscript, but thought it a duty belonging to his fame, and your own
merit, to dedicate this book unto your lordship, heir to all, but
apparently to nothing but his virtues and this memorial of them.”
In his Epistle to the Reader, he enters upon a lively vindication of the
genuineness of his “Certamen; or, Discourse Concerning Religion;” the
veracity of which had been bitterly impugned by his enemies; and states
that he published it in vindication of the King’s constant affection to
the _Protestant_ religion. There is considerable spirit in the
preface:--“Some,” he says, “will not admit of that controversie
otherwise than as a parable: First, because they were there--that is, at
Raglan Castle--and heard no such thing; Secondly, because they believed
not the Marquess of Worcester to be so able a man; as I hear it hath
been said by some of his Majesty’s field chaplains, who envying that a
loyal pen should wagge, where they can be contented to sew pillowes
under the elbowes, to bead cushions over the heads of the people,[284]
and preach such wholesome and sound doctrine of mortification,
sanctification, justification, and good life, that they thought they
might safely get up into any pulpit, not caring what bottom it had, nor
what canopie was over head. Not much unlike the man who went to preach
after [upon] the sureness of his foundation, when his house was all on
fire. These men will tell you that this was no real thing; because they
were there--at Raglan--all the while; whilst, in fact, they were not
there at all except at _meales_; and when I tell you that they were the
doctours, that were better at smelling a good dinner than a disputation,
I have as good as told you their names. I expected truly better reason
from those doctours, than from the knight that said, ‘He was sure there
should be no such thing at Raglan, for his boy Tom was there all the
time!’
“But you will say,” he continues, “you do not believe there was any such
private discourse. Chuse then; who cares? Let him believe that will; it
was writ for the satisfaction of Christians--not of Infidels. But it may
be that ‘mendax Fama’ means to requite me for the wrong she did my
father, who writ a good book;[285] and some would not believe it to be
his; and now that I have set out a book none of mine own, she will have
it to be _mine_. I thank her kindly; but I had rather be without her
praises, than to be thought such an ingenious lyar.”
The suspicion that Bayly was the inventor, and not reporter, of the
“Certamen Religiosum,” is not supported by any testimony to which we can
attach implicit reliance; for those who charged him with the deception,
were of the party to whom he was politically as well as religiously
opposed. That conversations of the kind actually occurred between the
King and the Marquess, can hardly be doubted; but as Bayly, in the midst
of a garrison, could not be so cool and accurate as a modern reporter
for the press, we may fancy that he clothed the arguments, sent forth in
the “Certamen,” in his own language; and perhaps insensibly coloured
them with his own sentiments.
It has been farther said of him, that, besides taking part in the
defence of Raglan, he fought, on some occasion of his subsequent and
chequered career, as a common soldier. This is by no means unlikely; for
he was of an active and adventurous spirit; never reluctant to take up
arms in a good cause; and like some other ecclesiastics of his day, as
well known in the “tented field” as in the pulpit.
In his “Book of Apophthegms,”[286] he mentions the fact of his having
saved Lord Worcester from the enemy, by giving him timely notice of
their approach, when he found him wandering on the Welsh mountains; and,
recording this incident as the occasion and origin of his acquaintance
with the Marquess, he says: “From that time forward, until I laid him in
his grave in Windsor Castle, I never parted from him.” Such enthusiastic
attachment--disinterested as, under all the peculiar circumstances of
the case, it must have been--does infinite credit to the memory of
Bayly; for it generally happens that fallen greatness, like court
favourites, has no real friends.--We now return to the closing scene of
the master whom he had served with so much constancy, and whom it was
literally his misfortune to survive; for after his obsequies at Windsor,
Bayly was left a friendless wanderer, denounced at home, received with
suspicion abroad, and indebted to charity for bread and--a grave.
Reduced, as we have seen, to the humiliating condition of a prisoner,
the Marquess of Worcester did not long require the vigilance of the
Black Rod. From the day that Raglan was delivered up to General Fairfax,
his health, which during the siege had suffered from great mental
anxiety, rapidly declined under the absence of all that reconciles
worldly men to the evils of life. But, armed with that Christian
philosophy which is the only panacea for the outrages of fortune, he
preserved the inward calm of a resigned and tranquil spirit; and,
looking forward to another and a happier existence, he regarded passing
events, like his own bodily infirmities, as visitations from an unseen
Power, who, through a rugged and stormy path, was conducting his servant
into a new region of sunshine and peace. At his death, which took place
in December, all that descended to his family, as unconvertible to
Parliamentary uses, were the example he had set before them of unshaken
loyalty, well-grounded faith, and a patient endurance of evils which the
practice of such hereditary virtues might incur. By his wife, whom he
long survived, he had issue nine sons and four daughters: namely, Lord
Herbert, Earl of Glamorgan, who succeeded to the honours; Lord John, who
married a daughter of Thomas, Lord Arundel of Wardour; and Lord Charles,
who, during the siege of Raglan, acted as second in command under his
father, and after signalizing himself in the royal service, devoted
himself to the church, and died, as already observed, in exile at
Cambray. These are the only members of the family that require to be
noticed in this place.
Edward, the second Marquess, maintained the same spirit of loyalty which
had actuated his father through life. The services which he had
hitherto, as Lord Herbert, rendered to the royal cause, were followed by
others which won for him the entire confidence of his Sovereign, by whom
he was constituted Lord Lieutenant of North Wales, and invested with the
highest authority ever delegated by a king to his subject. To this
remarkable fact allusion has been already made;[287] but in this place,
where it may be more properly introduced, we shall quote the original at
full length. In the preceding history, as we have seen, the King
addressed him in letters patent from Oxford, by the title of Earl of
Glamorgan, Baron Beaufort of Caldecot; and to complete the honours
showered upon him, his Majesty invested him, in 1644, with the following
commission:--
“Charles, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France,
and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c., to our right trusty and
right well-beloved cousin Edward Somerset _alias_ Plantagenet, Lord
Herbert, Baron Beaufort of Caldicote, Grosmond, Chepstow, Raglan,
and Gower, Earl of Glamorgan, son and heir apparent of our entirely
beloved cousin, Henry, Earl and Marquess of Worcester, greeting.
“Having had good and long experience of your prowess, prudence, and
fidelity, do make choice, and by these nominate and appoint you
our, &c., to be our generalissimo of three armies, English, Irish,
and Foreign, and admiral of a fleet at sea, with power to recommend
your Lieut.-General for our approbation; leaving all other officers
to your own election and denomination, and accordingly to receive
their commission from you, willing and commanding them, and every
of them, you to obey as their general, and you to receive immediate
orders from ourself only. And lest, through distance of place, we
may be misinformed, we will and commend you to reply unto us, if
any of our orders should thwart or hinder any of your designs for
our service. And there being necessary great sums of money to the
carrying on so chargeable an employment, which we have not to
furnish you withal, we do by these empower you to contract with any
of our loving subjects of England, Ireland, and dominion of Wales,
for wardships, customs, woods, or any our rights and prerogatives;
we by these obliging ourselves, our heirs, and successors, to
confirm and make good the same accordingly. And for persons of
generosity, for whom titles of honour are most desirable, we have
entrusted you with several patents under our Great Seal of England,
from a Marquis to a Baronet, which we give you full power and
authority to date and dispose of, without knowing our further
pleasure. So great is our trust and confidence in you, as that,
whatsoever you do contract for or promise, We will make good the
same accordingly, from the date of this our commission forwards;
which, for the better satisfaction, We give you leave to give them,
or any of them, copies thereof, attested under your hand and seal
of arms. And for your own encouragement, and in token of our
gratitude, we give and allow you henceforward such fees, titles,
preheminences, and privileges, as do and may belong to your place
and command above-mentioned; with promise of our dear daughter
Elizabeth to your son Plantagenet in marriage, with three hundred
thousand pounds in dower or portion; most part whereof we
acknowledge spent or disburst by your Father[288] and you in our
service; and the title of Duke of Somerset to you and your heirs
male for ever; and from henceforward to give the Garter to your
arms, and at your pleasure to put on the George and blue ribbon.
And for your greater honour, and in testimony of our reality, we
have with our own hand affixed our great seal of England unto these
our commission and letters, making them patents.
“Witness ourself at Oxford, the first day of April, in the
twentieth year of our reign, and the year of our Lord one thousand
six hundred and forty-four.
“Charles.”
The result of this commission, full of promises, offers a striking
instance of the uncertainty of “the best laid schemes” of men. Lord
Glamorgan’s eldest son married; but no matrimonial alliance took place
between the Royal family and his. Nor is it mentioned that any use was
made of his unprecedented power to make peers; and what is singular
enough, the title of Glamorgan, granted to Lord Herbert himself, was
disputed, on account of some informality, at the Restoration of Charles
II., and surrendered by him when Marquess of Worcester. He seems,
indeed, to have regarded neither his private interest nor his public
reputation in comparison with those of his Royal master. He was sent to
Ireland, as already noticed, with a secret commission to negotiate with
the Roman Catholics; and upon its discovery, and being disowned by
Charles, he took all the fault on himself, to the imminent hazard of his
own life. At the Restoration he met with no adequate reward for his
devoted loyalty. Charles the Second, probably, had not all the power
that was supposed, as he certainly had not all the inclination that was
expected, to reward the adherents of his family.
Horace Walpole, in his “Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors,” gives a
lively, but a very careless and unfair, account of this Marquess of
Worcester. He ridicules his “Century of Inventions;” but, in truth, Lord
Orford’s opinion will not go far on scientific subjects. An opinion,
very different from that of the critic-peer, will be formed on
consulting the new edition of the “Century of Inventions,” with
historical and explanatory notes, published in 1835, by Mr. Charles F.
Partington.
The title the Marquess gives the original work is, “A Century of the
Names and Scantlings of such Inventions, as at present I can call to
mind to have tried and perfected, which (my former notes being lost) I
have, at the instance of a powerful friend, endeavoured now, in the year
1655, to set these down in such a way, as may sufficiently instruct me
to put any of them in practice.”
“Artis et naturæ proles.”
He dedicates it to the King in language of unabated loyalty; and in a
second address impressively recommends his discoveries to the attention
of both Houses of Parliament. In the sixth of these “Inventions,” Mr.
Partington recognises an improved construction of the telegraph, as it
was used before the electric telegraph came into use.
In VIII. IX. and X. various engines of war are hinted, which have since
been perfected by Congreve and others. The reader who is curious in such
subjects, will be well repaid by a perusal of Mr. Partington’s book. We
can only find room for those inventions which foreshadow the
steam-engine.
“XC. An engine so contrived that, working the _primum mobile_ forward or
backward, upward or downward, circularly or cornerwise, to and fro,
straight, upright or downright, yet the pretended operation continueth
and advanceth; none of the motions above-mentioned hindering, much less
stopping the other; but unanimously and with harmony agreeing, they all
augment and contribute strength unto the intended work and operation;
and, therefore, I call this a _semi-omnipotent engine_, and do intend
that a model thereof be buried with me.
“XCIX. How to make one pound weight raise an hundred as high as one
pound falleth; and yet the hundred pounds weight descending doth what
nothing less than one hundred pounds can effect.
“LXVIII. An admirable and most forcible way to drive up water by fire,
not by drawing and sucking it upwards, for that must be, as the
philosopher calleth it, _infra spheram activitatis_, which is had at
such a distance; but this way hath no bounder, if the vessels be strong
enough; for I have taken a piece of a whole cannon, whereof the end was
burst, and filled it three quarters full, stopping and screwing up the
broken end, as also the touchhole; and making a constant fire under it,
within twenty-fours it burst, and made a great crack. So that having
found a way to make my vessels, so that they are strengthened by the
force within them, the one to fill after the other, have seen the water
run like a constant fountain stream forty feet high; one vessel of
water, rarefied by fire, driveth up forty of cold water; and a man that
tends the work is but to turn two cocks, that one vessel of water being
consumed, another begins to force and refill with cold water, and so
successively, the fire being tended and kept constant, which the
selfsame person may likewise abundantly perform in the interim between
the necessity of turning the said cocks.
“C. Upon so potent a help as these two last-mentioned inventions, a
waterwork is, by many years’ experience and labour, so advantageously by
me contrived, that a child’s force bringeth up, an hundred feet high, an
incredible quantity of water, even two feet diameter. And I may boldly
call it the most stupendous work in the whole world! Not only, with
little charge, to drain all sorts of mines, and furnish cities with
water, though never so high seated, as well to keep them sweet, running
through several streets, and so performing the work of scavengers, as
well as furnishing the inhabitants with sufficient water for their
private occasions; but likewise supplying the rivers with sufficient to
maintain and make navigable from town to town, and for the bettering of
lands all the way it runs; with many more advantageous and yet greater
effects of profit, admiration, and consequence. So that, deservedly, I
deem this invention to crown my labours, to reward my expenses, and make
my thoughts acquiesce in the way of farther inventions. This making up
the whole century, and preventing any farther trouble to the reader for
the present, meaning to leave to posterity a book, wherein, under each
of these heads, the means to put in execution and visible trial all and
every of these inventions, with the shape and form of all things
belonging to them, shall be printed by brass plates.” And he devoutly
concludes:--“_In bonum publicum, et ad majorem_ DEI _gloriam_.”
On these Mr. Partington has the following note:--“The three last
inventions may justly be considered as the most important of the whole
‘Century;’ and when united with the 68th article, they appear to suggest
nearly all the data essential for the construction of a modern
steam-engine. The noble author has furnished us with what he calls a
definition of this engine; and although it is written in the same vague
and empirical style which characterises a large portion of his
‘Inventions,’ it may yet be considered as affording additional proofs of
the above important fact.”
The Marquess’s “Definition” is exceedingly rare, as the only copy known
to be extant is preserved in the British Museum. It is printed on a
single sheet, without date, and appears to have been written for the
purpose of procuring subscriptions in aid of a water company, then about
to be established:--
“A stupendous, or a water-commanding engine, boundless for height or
quantity, requiring no external nor even additional help or force, to be
set or continued in motion, but what intrinsically is afforded from its
own operation, nor yet the twentieth part thereof. And the engine
consisteth of the following particulars:--
“A perfect counterpoise, for what quantity soever of water.
“A perfect countervail, for what height soever it is to be brought unto.
“A _primum mobile_, commanding both height and quantity, regulator-wise.
“A vicegerent, or countervail, supplying the place, and performing the
full force of man, wind, beast, or mill.
“A helm, or stern, with bit and reins, wherewith any child may guide,
order, and control the whole operation.
“A particular magazine for water, according to the intended quantity or
height of water.
“An aqueduct, capable of any intended quantity or height of water.
“A place for the original fountain, or river, to run into, and
naturally, of its own accord, incorporate itself with the rising water,
and at the very bottom of the aqueduct, though never so big or high.
“By Divine Providence and heavenly inspiration, this is my stupendous
water-commanding engine, boundless for height and quantity.
“Whosoever is master of weight, is master of force; whosoever is master
of water, is master of both; and, consequently, to him all forcible
actions and achievements are easy.”
“It is said,” continues our authority in another place, “that the
Marquess, while confined in the Tower of London, was preparing some food
in his apartment, (a singularly good result from a marquess having been
obliged to be his own cook,) and the cover of the vessel having been
closely fitted, was, by the expansion of the steam, suddenly forced off
and driven up the chimney. This circumstance attracting his attention,
led him to a train of thought, which terminated in the completion of his
‘water-commanding engine.’”
Thus, we think, posterity has something more to thank the noble owner of
Raglan for, than deeds of arms, or the defence of castles. His great
castle, however, was ere this time in ruins, and furnishing another
instance of the folly with which the conquerors at that period destroyed
the noble buildings which had belonged to their enemies the Royalists;
as if it had not been enough, and more wise and provident, to have kept
them in their own possession, and converted them to republican uses.
The Marquess survived the publication of his “Century” only about two
years. He died in retirement, near London, on the 3d of April, 1667, and
was buried in the vault of Raglan Church, on the 19th of the same month,
near his grandfather, Edward, Earl of Worcester.[289]
After the Restoration, as already noticed, a committee was appointed by
the House of Lords,[290] to take the patent above quoted into serious
consideration. The consequence was, that in a very few days thereafter
it reported that the Marquess was willing, without further question, to
deliver it up to his Majesty; and accordingly, on the third of September
following, the said patent, “granted,” as it was alleged, “in prejudice
to the Peers,” was formally surrendered to the Sovereign, as the only
fountain of national honours.
[Illustration]
Henry, only son of the second Marquess, succeeded him in all those high
titles and appointments, by which the King endeavoured to make him
amends for the vast sacrifices which his family had incurred by a long
course of unflinching and untarnished loyalty. And to crown the whole,
he was installed K.G., and finally advanced to the highest rank of the
peerage. Having been “eminently serviceable to the King”--as expressed
in the patent--“since his most happy restoration to the throne of these
realms; in consideration thereof, and of his most noble descent from
King Edward the Third, by John de Beaufort, eldest son of John of Gaunt,
Duke of Lancaster, by Catherine Swinford, his third wife,” the Marquess
of Worcester was created, in December, 1682, Duke of Beaufort, with
remainder to the heirs male of his body.
At the funeral of Charles the Second, his Grace was one of the
supporters to George, Prince of Denmark, chief mourner. By James the
Second he was made Lord President of Wales, and Lord Lieutenant of
twelve different counties in the Principality; and at the Coronation, in
April following, he had the distinguished honour of carrying the Queen’s
crown. He was afterwards made Colonel of the 11th Regiment of foot, then
first raised. He next exerted himself against the Duke of Monmouth; and
endeavoured, though ineffectually, to secure Bristol against the
adherents of the Prince of Orange. Upon that Prince’s elevation to the
British throne, his Grace refused to take the oaths, and abjuring public
life, lived in retirement until his death, which took place in 1699, in
the seventieth year of his age.
Charles, the second but eldest surviving son of the first Duke, is
mentioned in the family history as a nobleman of great parts and
learning. He died in the lifetime of his father, in consequence of an
accident, in the thirty-eighth year of his age. His horses, we are told,
taking fright, and running down a steep hill, the danger became
imminent; when, to avoid the casualty which threatened him, he unhappily
leaped out, broke his thigh-bone, and only survived the accident three
days.
Henry, his eldest son, succeeded his grandfather as second Duke of
Beaufort. On Queen Anne’s visiting the University of Oxford in 1702, and
going thence in her progress to Bath, the Duke met her Majesty near
Cirencester, on the twenty-ninth of August; and, attended by great
numbers of the gentlemen, clergy, and freeholders of the county,
conducted her with great pomp to his seat at Badminton, where she was
received with regal splendour. This act of loyal hospitality--so
becoming in a descendant of Henry the first Marquess of Worcester--was
most graciously acknowledged by the Queen and her royal consort Prince
George of Denmark.
Three years after this event, the Duke took his seat in the House of
Lords; but did not appear at court until after the change of ministers
in 1710, when he frankly told her Majesty that he could “then, and only
then, call her Queen of England.”
After being installed in various high offices, and while promising a
long and distinguished career in the service of his country, he was
prematurely cut off in the thirty-first year of his age, and buried at
Badminton, where a monument records his titles, character, and public
services.
Badminton, which we have just named, is the principal seat of the
Beaufort family, and comprises one of the finest parks in England.
Badminton Church, which contains the monuments above-named, was rebuilt
at the expense of the late Duke of Beaufort in 1785, after a plan by
Evans. It stands within the Ducal Park; and, besides various other
specimens of art, represents the arms of Somerset--“foy pour
devoir”--faith for duty--worked in mosaic in the pavement of the
chancel. On the destruction of
Raglan Castle, as already described in these pages, was laid the
foundation of Badminton Park, where the household gods of the family
were formally enshrined, and insured the possession of a more peaceful
and propitious home.
“Here, in forgetfulness of many woes,
The loyal Founder sought and found repose;
Here, in sweet landscapes to the Muse endeared,
Soothed by Religion, and by Science cheered;
Tasted the sweets that rarely can be known,
Save when we make the public weal our own.”
This beautiful seat--long prior to the time in question--had been the
hereditary demesne of the Botelers, whose names appear in the earliest
period of British history. The house is built in the Palladian style of
architecture--a style for which the first Duke of Beaufort had acquired
a taste at Vicenza; and when the time had arrived that a house, worthy
of his illustrious ancestors, should be erected in this county, a
decided preference was given to the Italian model. The principal front
is of great length, having in its centre division a composite colonnade,
surmounted by an attic, on which is sculptured the family arms. The
wings of the mansion, extending considerably on each side, are
terminated by Tuscan arches, leading to the offices and stables. Over
each extremity of the centre is a cupola. The interior decorations of
this palace are splendid, but still in good keeping, and evincing due
regard to the classical taste in which the building itself originated.
The great dining or banquet hall is tastefully ornamented by wood
carvings, from the designs of the celebrated Gibbons--all of elaborate
execution, and presenting some of the finest specimens ever produced by
that artist. The picture gallery--which the stranger will admire for its
fine proportions and classical simplicity--presents a series of family
portraits, with which, individually, are associated many pleasing, and
some painful events and circumstances of the national history--
“Of lofty stem! the beautiful, the bold--
Names that still blazon the historic page!
Faintly, yet brightly, hath the painter told
Their worth and virtues to a latter age--
‘In faith inflexible;’ in beauty’s charms
Triumphant; and invincible in arms.”
The park, by which the mansion is encircled, is of great extent--more
than nine miles in circumference; and although the natural scenery is
comparatively tame, the walks and drives are exceedingly picturesque;
and, to the practised eye of strangers, present many points of view
which will linger on the memory long after other and more romantic
scenes are forgotten.
“Here waving woods--a mass of living green--
With varied shade diversify the scene;
Flowers of all hues perfume the haunted dell,
Where streams descend, and bubbling fountains dwell;
Where busts of heroes glimmer through the trees,
And Nature’s music floats upon the breeze--
Such, as in olden time, was heard to wake
The slumbering echoes of the Larian lake;
Or soothed, with dulcet tones, the opal sea,
That clasps thy beauteous shore--Parthenopè!
Yet brighter rises--fairer sets the sun
Upon _thy_ classic shades--fair Badminton.”
With these particulars, which bring down the family history to
comparatively modern times, we close this portion of the subject, and
return to the scene of our illustrations--
Raglan Castle.--By those unacquainted with the subject, it has been
often regretted that, when prosperity had again visited the family of
Worcester, no effort was ever made to restore this castle to something
of its original splendour. But the obstacles that opposed such a
patriotic design were innumerable; and although the apartments at vast
expense might have been rendered habitable, yet the parks, and the
timber--the growth of centuries--having all been cut down and swept away
in the Revolution, and nothing left but a comparatively bleak and
uncultivated waste, the grand ornament of the manor was not to be
replaced by the hand of art. Turrets might again multiply along the
battlements, and splendid courts be rescued from the cumbrous ruins that
had long hid and disfigured them; but trees must be raised by a slower
process, and he who should replant the wasted demesne must do so, not
for himself, but for the benefit of future generations.
But, in addition to other obstacles that need not here be noticed, the
habits and manner of society had become so thoroughly changed after the
Restoration, that a feudal stronghold was no longer indispensable for
the security and comfort of great families. The military chief had now
thrown aside his cumbrous mail, and entered into the every-day duties of
civil life; and by improved intercourse with his fellow-men--confidence
in the stability of government--a taste for agriculture, and love of
national sports and pastimes, he felt his own happiness advanced by the
new facilities of promoting that of the people around him. He found that
to sleep soundly, required the aid of neither drawbridge nor portcullis.
Public order and confidence once restored, domestic feuds, which had so
long kept men strangers to one another--except in some field of
conflict--were succeeded by family alliances, which united them by new
ties of friendship and affection; and instead of mutual distrust and
mutual defiance, the nobles of the land were gradually weaned back from
an immoderate love of war to the arts of peace, and the practical
illustration of loyalty and patriotism. The feudal castle, built chiefly
for defence, was now of course a structure of which every one could
perceive the comfortless inconvenience. A host of retainers was no
longer required either for the safety or the baronial state of the
mansion; a new form of society required new and more simple forms of
accommodation; and the rural mansion, with its waving woods, gardens,
orchards, farm-like offices, well-stocked preserves, and richly
variegated lawns, succeeded those stern fortifications within which
former generations had maintained their haughty independence--but which,
in reality, was little better than “the freedom of a state prisoner”--
“For still the ramparts, tall and grim,
Were _barriers_ ’twixt the world and him!”
Raglan Castle, however--even while occupied as a feudal
residence--possessed many advantages over its contemporaries. Its
spacious courts, lofty halls, numerous suites of chambers, extensive
battlements, ancient gardens, shady walks, and variegated prospects,
were luxuries to which few, if any, of our domestic fortalices could lay
claim. Within the walls of the castle, the riches of art, pictorial and
sculptured, were scattered with taste and liberality on every object
that could please the eye or amuse the fancy; while the skill and
science illustrated in their arrangement improved the mind, and imparted
a classic grace and colouring to the whole structure. Of its luxuries in
this respect--in its library, its Gallery of paintings and
sculpture--the description of an old poet may be quoted as not
inapplicable to the scene presented by Raglan, at the commencement of
the seventeenth century:--
[Illustration: State Gallery--looking south.]
“For the rich spoil of all the continents,
The boast of art and nature, there was brought;
Corinthian brass, Egyptian monuments,
With hieroglyphic sculptures all inwrought;
And Parian marbles, by Greek artists taught
To counterfeit the forms of heroes old,
And set before the eye of sober thought
Lycurgus, Homer, and Alcides bold--
All these and many more that may not here be told.”
But of all the artificial embellishments for which Raglan Castle was
famed, its Water-works--on a most ingenious and expensive scale--are
allowed to have formed a principal feature; and these Lord Herbert and
the first Marquess appear to have brought to a degree of perfection
previously unknown in this country. In their day--long before the name
of Cromwell had inspired sentiments of either respect or alarm--Raglan
Castle was probably as much distinguished in this respect amongst
baronial mansions, as the “Palace of the Peak” among the aristocratic
mansions of our own times. During the numerous fêtes celebrated within
its gates in honour of the King’s visit, these water-works came in for a
large share of royal admiration; and who can doubt that the rushing
fountains of Raglan had, perhaps, as soothing an influence upon the
distracted mind of the first Charles, as those of Tivoli are said to
have had on that of Mecænas, whom the distracting cares of state, as
tradition reports, had rendered sad and sleepless? Fresh from the field
of Naseby, the sound of welcome that met King Charles at the gate of
Raglan, must have been peculiarly grateful to _his_ ear, on which the
shouts of loyalty were destined never to fall again with so much truth
and fervour. As the equestrian group in the Fountain Court threw up its
snowy column during the night, the spray may have reached the very
casement of the King’s chamber, and invited that repose which
unparalleled reverses had scared from his pillow. If, under the ordinary
circumstances of royalty, “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” his
must indeed have been “unrest,” from whose head the crown was so surely
but insensibly falling.--These, however, are sentimental conjectures,
with which the topographer has little or nothing to do; we turn,
therefore, to the subject in question, the water-works of Raglan, and
the hero of the scene, the first Marquess, of whom local history reports
the following
Anecdote.--At the beginning of the Long Parliament, we are told, certain
rustics of the neighbourhood, availing themselves of the prejudices
excited against Lord Worcester on account of his creed, presented
themselves one morning at the gate of Raglan, and in the name of
Parliament demanded possession of the household arms. Apprised of their
design, the noble owner met them at the White Gate; and after hearing
them repeat the demand for arms, put the question, “Whether, seeing that
they had come to disarm him and his servants, they intended also to
follow up that act of violence by robbing him of his money and goods?”
“No,” said the intruders; “we want your arms, and that only because you
are publicly denounced as a recusant!” “Nay,” said his lordship; “I am
indeed a peer of the realm, but I am no convicted recusant; and
therefore the law cannot in reason take notice of any such thing, much
less sanction this violent proceeding.”
Thus checked in their first attempt, the Marquess proceeded to warn them
of the danger they had incurred by pressing an unlawful demand; and
threatening them with serious consequences, they were well pleased to
forego the prime object of their visit, and turning round prepared to
retire without further parley. The Marquess, however, seeing their
contrition, invited them to enter the gate of the castle, and amuse
themselves, in a peaceable way, with a sight of whatever it contained.
His design, however, was to punish them, in a manner they little
expected, for the unnecessary alarm they had occasioned to the
household.
Condescending to be his own cicerone in the case, he conducted the
rustic band from one place to another, until--greatly wondering at
everything they saw--they had traversed nearly the whole premises. At
last, just when they had come to that part of the Castle Moat, over
which a lofty bridge communicated with the Keep,[291] he invited them to
pause, and examine the scene at leisure.
“Now, at this point,” says Bayly, “Lord Herbert had lately contrived
certain water-works, which, when the several engines and wheels were set
agoing, vast quantities of water through the hollow conveyances were to
be let down from the top of the high tower.” All being ready for action,
a signal from the Marquess brought down through these a deluge of
cataracts, which, by their roaring, hissing, and foaming through the
hollow tubes, produced such a hideous and deafening noise, that every
echo from the buildings around was roused into imitation; while the
visitors themselves, suddenly enveloped in a magic circle of roaring
cataracts, knew not what to think, nor which way to turn. Describing the
effect in his own graphic style, the Chaplain writes:--
“Such was the roaring, as if the mouth of hell had been thrown wide
open, and all the devils had been conjured up, that the poor silly men
stood so amazed, as if they had been half dead; and yet they saw
nothing!”
At last, as the plot was contrived, up comes a man in great haste and
affected trepidation; and staring wildly at the half-petrified rustics,
cried out as he passed them--“Look to yourselves, my masters; look to
yourselves; for, by’r Lady, the lions are all broke loose!” Hereupon the
rustic “arms-searchers” fell into such a dancing fit of ague, that, in
their attempts to escape the lions’ jaws, they tumbled so over one
another as they scampered down stairs, that it was feared one half of
them had broken their necks. Nor did they once look behind them, until
they found themselves a full mile beyond the gates of the castle.
By this _ruse_, the Marquess completely succeeded in warding off any
second party disposed to make a similar experiment. The demand for arms
was not repeated; the roar of Worcester’s “lions” kept all intruders at
bay; and the recent adventure, which had lost nothing by telling, did
more for a time to insure the tranquillity of Raglan Castle, than could
have been accomplished by a regiment of cavalry.
View from the Keep.--The Donjon Tower, where the above adventure
occurred--and which has been already described in these pages--commands
a magnificent view over the surrounding country, particularly to the
south-west, where the landscape--broken into verdant masses of
vegetation--gradually swells into a mountain range, which limits the
view, and depicts its own bold outline on the distant horizon. In
describing this view, we shall be as particular as our limits will
permit; for it is one of the finest in the county. The ascent, as usual
in such buildings, is by a tourniquet staircase, which opens at each of
the five different stories into the ancient, and, in the present case,
lofty apartments; to which, in cases of imminent danger, the family
could retreat as to an inviolable sanctuary. But this was an extremity
to which--so far as we are informed--none of the Worcester family were
ever compelled to resort. So that there are no dramatic incidents
associated with the tower, upon which a romantic story of siege and
storm might be founded.
Of this view, however, all visitors of taste in landscape-painting speak
in terms of admiration; and, having made the experiment on a beautiful
evening in September, we are bound, from the enjoyment it afforded us,
to recommend to all visitors a tour of the battlements, closing with a
view from the top of the Keep. In this view, as shown in the
accompanying engraving, is comprehended a wide panorama, enriched and
embellished with all the characteristic features of English landscape,
from the green valley and fertile wheat-field to the bleak pastoral
uplands that partly enclose the scene. All the foreground is occupied by
smiling cottages and cultivated farms, half buried, as Mr. Thomas[292]
has described them, in the umbrageous and many-coloured foliage that
enriches the scene, and in which the melancholy yew-tree is conspicuous.
The appearance of the ruins in this bird’s-eye view is particularly
striking. Every tower, arch, and battlement--here diverging into
distinct form and outline, and there grouped in picturesque
confusion--strike the spectator with mixed feelings of surprise and
amazement; for it is only from this elevation that he is enabled to form
any correct estimate of the beauty, variety, and extent of a building,
that seems every way fitted to have been the residence of a regal court.
The following table, as recommended by Mr. Thomas,[293] will assist the
curious visitor in discovering the various hills and landmarks which are
generally visible from the Tower of Gwent. Ranging from east to south,
the prominent features of the landscape appear in the following order:
namely--the Kymin, a conical hill overlooking the town of Monmouth, and
crowned with its pavilion. The next is Troy Park, the favourite seat of
the Ducal family; Craig-y-Dorth, the scene of a famous battle between
Henry IV. and Owen Glendower; then the Trellig range of hills,
particularly Beacon Hill--so called
[Illustration: _View from the Battlements._
Raglan Castle.]
from being used as such in the late war during the threatened invasion.
The next is
Llanishen Hill, with the church of St. Dionysius; and continuous with it
rise the Devaudon and “New Church Hills,” opposite the Elms; the royal
forest of Wentwood and Pen-y-Cae Mawr; Kemeys Firs, near to Caerleon, an
elevation which commands a view of thirteen counties.[294]
In the south-west are seen the heights of Caerleon and Pen Twyn Barlwm;
Gaer Vawr, on which is an ancient encampment--the largest in the
county--with the site of a British town; Dial Carig; and Craig-y-Garcyd,
two miles north-west of Usk, the site of a Roman camp. In the immediate
foreground are the village and church of Raglan.
Westward appear Abersycan and the hills near Pontypool; the Blorenge
hill, nearly two thousand feet high.[295] The opening which occurs in
the range at this point, allows of a glimpse of the Breconshire hills at
Crick Howell to Bwlch, within eight miles of the county town. The next
in succession are--the Sugar Loaf, or Pen-y-Foel--so called from its
conical shape--near Abergavenny, which crowns the summits of four
converging hills, and rises eighteen hundred and fifty-two feet above
the channel of the river Gavenny, which flows near its base.
The same view takes in the Hatteril Hills, or Black Mountains, crowned
with Roman encampments; and near which is Oldcastle, once the residence
of Lord Cobham, whose unhappy fate forms a painful page in the national
history. From these hills the Monnow takes its source. Beneath lies the
dark Vale of Ewias; and in its bosom are the ruins of Lanthony, a
Cistercian Abbey of the twelfth century, which forms one of the
illustrated subjects of this work. In the same direction is seen the
Skyrrid Vawr, a lofty hill, seen in a volcanic fissure, which is
supposed to have been thrown open during one of those remote convulsions
of nature, of which in these districts the traces are so distinct and
frequent.
Looking northward, the prominent objects are Campstone Hill, and the
Craig, at the foot of which lie the picturesque remains of Grosmont
Castle, which gives the title of Viscount to the Beaufort family. To
these, but more northward, succeed Garway, Broad Oak, the Skinch-Cwm,
and White Hills, which close the panorama from Raglan Keep.--We have
been thus particular in designating the objects seen from the different
points of view, in order that the tourists who annually visit this
scene, may be in some degree prepared for the enjoyment which it is so
well calculated to afford.
[Illustration: From the top of the Keep.]
Descending from this lofty tower, where on festive occasions the family
ensign still floats, the contrast between the Natural scenery, which has
just faded from the spectator’s eye, and the iron-bound work of Art,
forces itself upon the mind, and elicits a spontaneous burst of
gratitude that, under the protecting banner of the English Constitution,
the peasant is now as safe in his cottage as ever Baron of Raglan was in
his Keep; that at last “right” is a match against “might,” and that the
strong arm of Justice falls with impartial force on the culprit--whether
he be robed in ermine, or clad in hodden grey.
“Yet Barons of the land! to you
A grateful people still retains
Proud memory of the swords ye drew--
The swords that broke a tyrant’s chains,
And planted Freedom on our plains!
For Freedom’s cradle was the Keep,
Her guardians were the Barons bold;
Who placed her temple on the steep,
And on her head a crown of gold;
And cried--‘The deed is done! Behold,
Henceforth our British land shall be
The glorious land of Liberty!’”
The visitor, as he crosses the rustic bridge that now spans the moat,
will recall the interesting fact, that this very spot, so to speak, was
the “birthplace” of the Steam-engine; a circumstance which, had Raglan
no other claim to their notice, must entitle it to a more than cursory
observation from all who have an hour to spend within its walls. The
spot where it is believed to have been first placed by the
inventor--then Lord Herbert--was in a building erected close under the
wall of the Keep, where the drawbridge rose; but which has left few or
no traces, in shape or dimensions, that are now visible above the moat.
It is satisfactory, however, to know that the ground is stamped by
tradition as the spot where the noble inventor, during his father’s
lifetime, made his first experiments on the uses and powers of steam;
and where he probably constructed that “model of his invention,” which
he desired might be placed with him in his coffin.
If ancient warriors considered it an honourable distinction to be
consigned to the tomb in a full suit of armour, it was excusable in one
who had carried with him through life the remembrance of many wrongs,
many sacrifices, to desire that, at least, the evidence of one bloodless
triumph, one proof of scientific discovery, might accompany him at his
final departure from this scene. It was the favourite child of his
matured judgment, the result of those scientific researches, after which
he had been straining for many years--the mighty consequences of which
were dimly foreshadowed in his imagination. It was the reward and
consolation of a life of suffering, as well as of science; and there is
something both natural and touching in the wish that this model--the
only mechanical evidence that told him “he had not lived in
vain”--should be deposited with him in the grave.
Some of his commentators have affected to smile at this wish, as
evincing a feeling of weakness and vanity on the part of Lord Worcester,
incompatible with a philosophic mind. But in this they only allege what
cannot be proved; and the charge falls harmless when applied to a man
who was--what can never be disputed--one of the most ingenious and
scientific men of his day. When Columbus--a schoolboy at Genoa--first
rigged his tiny skiff, and sent it dancing over the blue waters, on
which it moved like the shadow of coming events; no one foresaw that
this mere toy would one day be succeeded by vessels, directed by the
same master-pilot, that should throw open another continent to the old
world. Nor, while Lord Worcester was squandering much time and treasure,
as it was thought, in useless experiments in the Keep at Raglan, did any
one imagine that these very experiments were preparing the way for that
stupendous power, that should one day give incredible impulse to the
arts of civilized life, cross the Atlantic, and traverse the Pacific,
with a celerity that promises to unite in one bond of fellowship all the
nations of the earth.
It can hardly be doubted that results similar to these haunted the
imagination of Worcester, and kept up within him that spirit of
discovery which animated him in all his labours, soothed him with the
hope of being numbered among the benefactors of his country, and a
prospect of that immortality which attends the favoured votaries of
science. He may often have indulged the thought, though never embodied
in words--and it was a remarkable prediction on the part of him who
uttered it long afterwards--
“Soon shall thine arm, triumphant Steam, afar,
Drag the slow barge, and drive the flying car!”
It has been alleged by Desaguliers,[296] that Savary, the reputed
inventor of the steam-engine, obtained his notions from the work already
named, “The Century of Inventions;” and that, in order to conceal the
original, he purchased all the Marquess’s books that could be had for
money, and committed them to the flames. Of this, however, we have no
direct proof, and Captain Savary must be acquitted; but it is quite
certain that, as already mentioned, the original work is so rare, that
not a copy is to be found except in the British Museum, and perhaps in
the Beaufort Libraries at Troy House or Badminton Park. It is to be
observed, however, that no contemporary record exists to illustrate or
verify the Marquess’s description of the contrivance, which we presume
to call a Steam-Engine; or to inform us where, and in what manner, it
was carried into effect. Yet it is very evident from his account, that
he had actually constructed and worked a machine that raised water by
steam; an operation which was sufficient to produce on the minds of
rustics, the effect ascribed to the “roaring of lions,” as mentioned in
the preceding anecdote. The Marquess’s description, though short and
obscure, would appear to favour the belief, that the force of his engine
was derived solely from the _elasticity_ of steam; and that the
condensation of steam by cold was no part of his contrivance, but the
invention of Captain Savary, who, in 1696--nearly thirty years after the
Marquess’s death--published an account of his machine in a small tract,
entitled, “The Miners’ Friend.” In these engines--several of which he
had erected previously--the alternate condensation and pressure of the
steam took place in the same vessel into which the water was first
raised from a lower reservoir, by the pressure of the atmosphere, and
then expelled into a higher one by the elastic force of strong steam.
Steam was thus employed merely to produce a vacuum, and to supply the
strength that was applied, for a like effect, to the sucker or piston of
an ordinary pump; and it was a great and important step to have
discovered a method of bringing the air to act in this manner, by the
application of heat to water, without the assistance of mechanical
force.
To the simple incident which, during his confinement in the Tower of
London, first set the warm and fertile imagination of the Marquess to
work on this subject, we have already adverted; and must now turn from
the curiosities of science, to such portions or features of Raglan
Castle as still remain to be noticed.
The Tilt-yard.--The exact situation of this important adjunct to the
Castle is still a question among the learned. By some, what is now
called the Bowling-green is described as the ancient Tilting-ground.
This conjecture, however, being rendered improbable by a careful
examination of the ground, another has been thrown out, namely--the
Grand Terrace on the north-west side of the Castle. But this locale is
also disputed, particularly by one who is resident near the spot, and
fully conversant with whatever has descended to our own times respecting
the original plan of the Castle. His opinion is, that the ancient
Tourney-field must have been on the outside of the present walls. An
experienced officer of the Royal Engineers, who lately inspected the
grounds, with the view of ascertaining the exact spot, confirms this
opinion; and observes that the Tilt-yard occupied the space immediately
outside of the present gate, and enclosed between the two moats which
surrounded the gateway. This opinion will probably set the question at
rest--particularly as it comes from a quarter well qualified to decide
in such doubtful cases--and allow the Bowling-green to retain its
hereditary fame and honours.[297]
In this enclosure it was usual for the lords of Raglan to exhibit those
chivalrous fêtes which gave a character to the age. They brought into
martial competition those aspirants of knightly fame, whose dexterity in
the use of the lance was perfected by daily practice in the tourney. In
these gorgeous pastimes, all that could fascinate the eye, and kindle
admiration in the spectators, was brought into brilliant operation.
Beauty, presiding at the lists, bestowed the palm on him who had
disarmed his rival in the charge, and thus established his claim to
knightly honours. Here, no doubt, many a lance has been couched, many a
spear broken in rival combat; for one of the old lords, as already
mentioned, was renowned as the best horseman of his day; and to support
this character, joust and tournament may have been no unfrequent
spectacles under the walls of Raglan.
It cannot be doubted that these martial exercises--conducted with
admirable tact and courtesy--contributed, in a very special degree, to
foster a spirit for military enterprise; to inculcate a high and
chivalrous sense of honour; to form the young soldier to habits of
fortitude and endurance which procured him the respect of his comrades,
and future distinction in the field. A knight, thoroughly trained
according to the system of feudal times, was a being whom we are
accustomed to regard as the beau-ideal of a soldier; whose high bearing,
indomitable courage, inflexible faith, unsullied honour, and loyal
devotion to his “ladye love,” are themes on which poets and historians
of the middle ages have lavished many glowing panegyrics.
For the education and discipline of those military aspirants, the grand
palæstra was the tilt-yard. For the feudal tournament--descriptions of
which are handed down to us by contemporaneous authors--no substitute is
left in these times. Nothing could have been more animated and dazzling,
when celebrated with all those details of martial pomp and
ceremony--indispensable to such exhibitions--than a pageant, in which
all who aspired to distinction were required to evince, in action, the
pure and elevating principles of love, loyalty, and religion. For these,
and many other reasons, impartial taste, as Gibbon observes, must prefer
a Gothic tournament to the Olympic games of classic antiquity. Instead
of the naked spectacles which corrupted the manners of the Greeks, the
pompous decoration of the lists was crowned with the presence of chaste
and highborn beauty, from whose fair hands the conqueror received the
prize of his dexterity and courage.[298]--And with this flattering
[Illustration]
contrast between the demoralizing festivals of Greece, and the high tone
of refinement which characterised those of our Gothic forefathers, we
pass on to such other points in the history of Raglan Castle as have
been selected for illustration. In the woodcut introduced in the
preceding page, the view is taken from the old
Bowling-green--erroneously supposed to have been the Tilt-yard. Directly
opposite, in the centre, is the Donjon, or Tower of Gwent, so often
described or otherwise referred to in these pages. On the left, where a
massive gateway is seen, is the entrance to the Fountain Court, from
which, as formerly noticed, a noble staircase conducts to the State
apartments occupying the south side of the Castle. These are now in a
state of utter dilapidation; but the framework itself affords abundant
evidence--so far as architectural design and elaborate ornament can
assist us in such a conclusion--of their original splendour.
[Illustration: The royal apartments.]
“But now th’ unsightly brier grows,
Where once, in gilded bower,
The Queen of Beauty trained the rose--
Herself a fairer flower.
And damp the hearth, and cold the bed,
Where he who wore the crown,
With anxious heart, and aching head,
In slumber laid him down!
But brief the slumber, long the night--
For Naseby’s fatal day,
And sorrow’s still increasing weight,
Had scared his sleep away!”
There is a tradition, that the Bowling-green was King Charles’s
favourite walk during his visit. It commands a varied and extensive
prospect; the vegetation is vigorous; and the grassy carpet, though not
in courtly trim, is still uninjured by plough or spade; and to
sentimental tourists it seems the very spot--aided by the adjoining
ruins--where, in the mirror of fancy, pictures of the olden day, the
hues of domestic life as it passed in the fifteenth century, may be seen
faithfully reflected.
“There is a spirit brooding o’er these walls,
That tells the records of a bygone day;
When, midst the splendour of thy courtly halls,
A pageant shone, whose gorgeous array,
Like Pleasure’s golden dream, has passed away;
Where Beauty’s smiles, and winning graces, lent
The witching radiance of their love-lit ray;
And from the scene a mingled strain was sent
Of music, laughter, festive song, and merriment.”--_Raglan._
The game of bowls was unknown to the ancients, and bowling-greens are
said to have originated in England; where, in the course of time, every
castle, and most houses of the nobility, had each a bowling-green
attached to them. The “greens” were in some places narrow strips turfed
over; but if covered with gravel, they were called “Bares.”
Bowling-alleys were so called from being roofed over for play when the
weather was unfavourable; and these appear to have been the usual
appendages to taverns, and other places of public resort, particularly
in towns. In an old inventory we have--“To Sparke of Bury, Roper, for
vi. li. etc., of herryng line for the Bowling-alley, iij_s._ iv_d._” At
the same place [Hengrave Hall] a bowling-alley occupied the space
between the north side of the moat, having the convenience of an open
corridor communicating with the Hall. Flat bowls were best for a close
alley; “round biassed bowls” for open ground, of advantage; bowls, round
as a ball, for green swarths which were plain and level; and of the
latter description is the Bowling-green of Raglan, now under notice.
In a plate of “Strutt’s Sports,” two small cones are placed upright, at
a distance from each other, and the players bowl at each
alternately--the winner was he who could lay his bowl nearest to the
mark. A small bowl or jack was also used as a mark; and only one bowl
for each person--not two or three, as in the present day.[299] There
were also ground-bowls, driven by a baton or mace through an arch.
Half-bowl--so called because it was played with one half of a
sphere--was prohibited by Edward the Fourth; and is the rolly-polly
still practised in Herts.[300]
Tennis-Court.--The site of this is still a question in the topography of
Raglan, although “the practice” cannot be doubted. Henry the
Seventh--who was a prisoner in Raglan Castle--his son Henry, and Charles
the Second, were all tennis players. In the sixteenth century,
tennis-courts were quite common in England. They were divided by a line
stretched in the middle; and the players, standing on either side with
their rackets, had to receive and return the ball, which the rules of
the game required to be struck over the line.[301]
Having already spoken of the Tilt-field, it is proper to remark that the
jousts and tournaments, for which it was set apart, differed from one
another in the following respects:--The latter consisted of parties of
knights, engaged at the same time; the former of two persons only. The
Joust was at first called the “Cane Game,” because hollow canes were
used instead of lances. On some occasions the combatants with swords and
lances were on foot, with a barrier of wood breast-high between them.
Toys, made to imitate the joust, consisted of knights on horseback, who
could be thrown off and unhorsed by the shock of their adversaries’
spears. Some had wheels, others not.
There were also boat-jousts, as represented in old paintings. The
conqueror was he who could best turn aside the blow of his antagonist by
one blow of his shield; and, at the same time, strike him with a lance
in such a manner as to throw him over into the water, himself remaining
unremoved from his station.[302]
* * * * *
Tradition.--On taking a final survey of these extensive ruins, and
speculating on the style and date of several of their component parts,
the difficulties that attend antiquarian decision--as great in the
present day as in that of the first Marquess--remind us of the following
anecdote:--
During an excursion in the vicinity, “We were told,” says his Chaplain,
who relates the story, “that we should come to a place that was famous
for a miracle, which, according to popular tradition, was wrought by the
preaching of St. David to three thousand people.” To accommodate the
saint, the ground on which he stood at the time, being too low to admit
of his being advantageously seen and heard by the multitude, most
obligingly rose up into a green knoll, carrying the saint with it, and
there settled at a proper elevation. Whereupon St. David, pitching the
cross on which he leant into the miraculous soil, and continuing his
discourse, was distinctly heard and seen, much to their comfort and
edification, by the whole assembly. This cross, at the time in question,
“was yet standing, with some words, or letters, which time and Welsh
weather had so defaced that they were no longer intelligible to vulgar
eyes.” In memory, or rather in _proof_, of the miracle, the guardian
saint had caused a church to be erected on the spot, and many were the
pilgrims, during the long lapse of centuries, who had resorted to the
Cross, and borne testimony to the celestial influence which still
hovered round the spot; and in those who were already gifted with that
“faith which can remove mountains,” produced the most wonderful changes.
This relation, working upon the Marquess’s mind, made him desirous to
turn aside for a little, and inspect the hallowed ground in person.
Having reached the churchyard, the cross was instantly visible; but in
shape and ornament bearing all the marks of venerable antiquity. The
inscription was almost obliterated; and among the gentlemen who attended
the Marquess, it became an object of competition who should best
decypher the original; though all that could be traced with any
resemblance to an alphabet, were--Crx ... Xti ... Dd, and part of an s.
The enigma that had puzzled so many others, however, appeared to his
lordship of very easy solution. “Why,” said he to the gentlemen around
him, “these letters are neither more nor less than fragments of three
simple but sacred words; to wit--Crux Christi Davidis.” “Which we all
wondered at,” says the Chaplain, “that no man could find out, though it
afterwards appeared so plain. ‘Look ye now,’ said the Marquess; ‘I,
without my spectacles, and ill eyes, could read it sooner than all you
that needed none, and had good eyes. And mark me,’ he added, ‘it is not
a good eye but a good faith that attains to a knowledge of such things;
whilst you pore so much upon the letters you lose the meaning. Now, I
will tell you how I came to find it out: I considered what had been told
me, with the help whereof I came to understand what the words might
signify; so that in this, I am sure, tradition was a means to help me to
the understanding of the scripture.’”
The quaint simplicity of the last sentence--so full of meaning--and the
lesson it inculcates regarding the authority of Traditions, illustrate
in a quiet way the Marquess’s opinions as to those of the Church; and to
antiquaries, the aid of tradition is thus very ingeniously recommended.
Where authentic history falls short of the mark in researches, the
traditions of a castle are entitled to consideration; and in the
preceding account of Raglan, it has been our study to combine the
two--though not in the sense recommended by the Marquess.
Of Lord Herbert, the following anecdote is recorded:--Some time after he
was created Earl of Glamorgan, he received the King’s commission, as we
have seen,[303] to proceed to Ireland, and there ascertain what could be
done to strengthen the royal cause. Setting out on this expedition, and
accompanied, as we are told, by a distinguished retinue of officers,
knights, and gentlemen--“all of the red letter”--who had staked life and
fortune on the enterprise, his lordship arrived at Caernarvon, where he
was to embark for Ireland. Here they were detained a short time; and
Glamorgan continuing to receive at his table the loyalist gentlemen of
the place, the conversation turned upon some old prophecies, which it
was thought were fast reaching their fulfilment. “And particularly one,”
said a gentleman of the company. “It is an old Welsh prediction, and
says--‘That in these latter times there should come to this very town a
_magpie_, and build her nest in the royal crown; that next a _jackdaw_
should arrive, and beat off the magpie; then a _buzzard_ should appear
on the same roost, and drive away the jackdaw; and then there should be
seen no crown, but that of _thorns_, upon the King’s head! Farther, that
there should come a band of men from a far country, and take away the
thorns, and then the crown should appear again.’”
And thus far, as the townsmen averred, the prophecy had been
accomplished; to wit--“Over the gate of Caernarvon Castle, there was a
statue of King Edward the First, in full proportion, with a crown upon
his head. Well, there did come a magpie, as every one could tell, which
built, her nest in the said crown; then came a jackdaw that beat away
the magpie, as foretold; and, in like manner, came at last a buzzard,
and drove away the jackdaw.” “And all this,” said the worthy townsmen,
“we assure your honour to be as true as Holy Writ.”
Hereupon the Earl of Glamorgan, having listened with deep interest to
the recital, replied with much animation--“And why may not we, my
gallant friends and comrades--why may not _we_ be that band of men from
a far country, that shall take away these thorns from the King’s
head--first, in type, and then in substance?” And thereupon all
concluded themselves to be the men destined for that glorious service.
They resolved that, on rising from table, they would satisfy their eyes
with the sight, as their ears had already been with the relation, and
lend willing and helping hands to disencumber the figure. Nothing else
could be thought of; and dinner being ended, the Earl and his company
sallied forth to the castle gate, resolved to signalize the day by an
act of loyalty that would endear their names to posterity. Looking up,
accordingly, with great eagerness to the royal badge, that seemed to
implore their assistance, its appearance, sure enough, was in literal
accordance with the disordered condition in which crowns are generally
left by rival combatants. It was, in fact, quite a heart-breaking sight
to see the diadem of England so covered and entangled with thorns, as if
artificially platted round the King’s temples.
“Verily,” said one of the nobles present, “never hath mine eye beheld a
sadder spectacle!” “The Earl himself, almost frantic with grief and
indignation, straightway commanded the nest to be torn down; which was
done with every mark of ignominy; and then the company began to breathe
again. The materials composing the nest being examined with severe
scrutiny, were found to be of white-thorn--a substance whereof never was
bird known before to build her nest!”
A thing so unprecedented, both as regards the nest and the material[304]
thereof, caused in the beholders a degree of amazement not to be
expressed: in memorial whereof, every one present thrust a sprig of
thorn in his hatband, and so wore it as a talisman. So far, “in type,”
the thorns were removed from the King’s crown--but not “in substance.”
This adventure in Caernarvon being duly narrated to the Marquess at
Raglan, he paused for a minute, and then inquired of those about him,
“What was the nickname which the Roundheads were wont to give the
Bishops?” But there were none about him who could even guess at his
meaning; which he perceiving, said, “As I take it, they used to call the
Bishops _Magpies_, whom they reproach for building their nests in the
crown; then came the Presbyterian _Jackdaws_, and beat them out; and the
next thing that you shall see will be the Independent _Buzzard_, which
shall drive them away. And who shall come next, God only knows!”
To this solution, one with a Roman nose made answer: “I hope, my lord,
that after these men have played their pranks sufficiently, no man
hereafter will presume to build his nest in the crown; but I hope there
will be a knot of good fellows that may case the King’s head from the
pricking of those thorns, and clear the crown from those incumbrances.”
Whereupon the Marquess, replying, asked the party who related the story,
“What manner of crown it was--of what form--that was upon the King’s
head?” The gentleman replied, “A _royal_ crown.” “Ay; but I mean,”
rejoined my lord, “was it an open or an imperial crown?” “An _open_
one.” “Oh, then, that was the reason; the King’s crown was too open: had
it been close at top, with the Cross overhead [a sly word for the Roman
Catholic faith], such unlucky birds could never have come there to have
built their nests; but one thing there is,” said he, in conclusion,
“that I mislike in the story, namely, that after they had taken the
thorns from the King’s head, they should afterwards wear them in their
own hatbands.”[305] This was what no one present could explain to the
Marquess’s satisfaction. And Lord Glamorgan’s negotiations in Ireland
proved a failure to remove any “thorns from the royal crown.”--So much
for a prophecy which shows the superstition and credulity of the
times--a credulity which tainted even those who were charged with the
highest offices of the state. Yet such--
“The superstitious, idle-headed eld
Received, and did deliver to our age.”
In those days, no fortress surrendered, no castle fell, no band of
heroes was discomfited, but in fulfilment of some irresistible
“prophecy.”--But here we must close the subject with a few words on the
Outworks of Raglan.--On this head little remains to be added. The
details, given in the first volume of this work, respecting castles of
the middle ages, preclude the necessity of our doing more than simply
referring the reader to those passages in the description of Rochester
and Arundel, which equally apply to Raglan. With respect to the outworks
of the latter, a very brief notice may here suffice. By a practical eye
the line of fortification may still be traced; and what remains of the
original defences thrown up during the siege, shows very clearly that
the military engineers employed were men whose skill and science did
credit to the age. The vestiges of this lamentable war are mostly
observable on the west side of the castle, where a strong bastion,
projecting from the exterior wall of the fortification, forms a striking
feature of the outworks, and a no less striking contrast with the
luxuriant vegetation which now crowns, and almost conceals, these
monuments of a barbarous and unnatural war. The point to which we
allude, is that represented in the engraving, and entitled the “Avenue,”
where the state apartments, unlatticed, roofless, and dilapidated, look
down upon the green belt of trees and underwood that surround them with
a melancholy aspect--but a melancholy that imparts feelings of
thankfulness to the lovers of peace; for it tells very plainly that the
devastating storm has long subsided, and that the sunshine of national
prosperity and contentment has again visited the scene. The engines of
war have disappeared; the ramparts, raised by men for the destruction of
their fellow-men, are now razed to the ground. Nature--striving to throw
her green mantle of oblivion over a scene from which she was so rudely
banished by the violence of war--smiles at her own bloodless triumph,
and peoples the over-arching groves with feathered tribes that sing no
songs but those of peace and joy--
“Where once the steel-clad warrior trod,
Spring renews her verdant wreath;
And o’er the once ensanguined sod,
Flowers their mingled incense breathe.
Where the clang of clarion rose,
All is silence and repose;
Save where, in yonder halls of state,
The blackbird serenades his mate.”
[Illustration]
We now proceed to a brief notice of the environs:[306]--
Raglan Church has little to interest the archæological inquirer beyond
its antiquity--and its claim to this distinction is fully vindicated by
its appearance. It consists of a nave, side aisles, a chancel, and a
square embattled tower, which, with a few trees throwing their shadows
over the burial-ground, forms a pleasing landmark in the distance. We
had the pleasure of uniting in the Morning Service before leaving the
village, and were much gratified by the religious demeanour which
pervaded the congregation, and edified by the simple but impressive
discourse with which the service was terminated.
Every feature seems stamped with the seal of antiquity; at first sight
nothing seems to have been renewed, or removed in the sacred edifice,
for at least two centuries. The great-great-grandfathers of the present
race may have occupied the same pews, knelt at the same altar, and been
addressed from the same pulpit; for the materials of which these are
composed seem as if framed to survive kingdoms and empires.
Over the Raglan Vault in the chancel, already noticed, some rusty
trophies of chivalry are suspended; and beneath repose several of the
ancient lords by whom they were worn, or wielded. To the state of the
monument itself, we have already alluded;[307] and judging from that of
its prostrate or dislocated compartments, the sculpture must have been
among the best specimens of its day, and employed on materials worthy to
transmit the family names to posterity; for it is of rare and variegated
marble, and appears to have been, according to monkish--but in contempt
of all classical--taste, elaborately gilded.
It has been regretted by visitors, that a tomb, in which are deposited
the remains of a nobleman--to whom the credit of a renowned invention
unquestionably belongs--should not be restored, or at least repaired. By
others, who regard it merely as an example of the Arts at that early
period, it is only a broken link in the chain of sepulchral
associations, which the skill and pencil of the artist can readily
supply. There might, indeed, be an appearance of inconsistency--a want
of harmony--in restoring the old family sepulchre, while the Castle
itself is left to destruction. In certain conditions and situations, a
fragment is more interesting than the original monument; and such,
perhaps, is the only interest which that in question ought to excite.
But with regard to the noble dust, we need only say--
“Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven;
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remembered in thy epitaph.”
The family residence, more immediately connected with that of Raglan,
and to which, in the course of this article, special attention was
directed in our notice of the royal visit to the Marquess of Worcester,
is--
Troy House.--This name--which the King was so much pleased to use as a
classical synonyme, in his acknowledgment of the fruits which it had
furnished for the royal table while at Raglan--is so called from its
situation on the river Trothy. The village of Mitchell Troy, about a
mile and a half from Monmouth, contains a church dedicated to St.
Michael; but the chief object to which the tourist’s eye is directed is
the baronial mansion above-named. The house, which was already in high
repute at the time of the King’s visit to Raglan, was built by Inigo
Jones, who, in the suite of Christian IV. of Denmark, came back to
England in 1606. In consequence of the patronage of James the First--and
more particularly of his Queen--he was induced to settle in the
metropolis; and hence originated the sacred, regal, and aristocratic
edifices which bear his name. He was consequently appointed one of the
commissioners for repairing St. Paul’s Cathedral; but this was not
commenced until the spring of 1623. In the following reign he was much
employed in preparing Masques for the entertainment of the court, and in
building the Banqueting-house at Whitehall; but while thus engaged, he
fell under the displeasure of Ben Jonson, who ridiculed him on the
stage, and made him the subject of his epigrammatic muse. Jones realized
a handsome fortune; but being a Roman Catholic, and a partisan of
royalty, he suffered severely in the Civil War. At length, worn out with
sorrow and physical sufferings, he died in July, 1652, leaving behind
him many monuments of his genius, of which the subject under notice was
not the least considerable.[308]
The fame of Troy House, however, depends less on the fact of its being
the work of Inigo Jones, than upon the celebrity of its gardens--the
fruits of which are still said to vie with those of tropical
growth.[309] The excellence of these fruits, as already noticed, caused
the King to remark, “That the Sovereign of the Planets had now changed
the poles; and that Wales, the outcast of England’s fine gardens, had
fairer and riper fruits than England’s valleys had in all her beds.” Sir
Charles Somerset, sixth son of the fourth Earl of Worcester, married
Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Sir William Powel of Troy and
Llanpylt, and added the influence of a considerable estate to that of
the house of Worcester. It was from his gardens that the dessert for the
royal table at Raglan was supplied.
In the picture gallery of Troy House is a large and beautiful portrait
of the first Marquess of Worcester, by Sir Peter Lely. He is represented
in an open field, seated before a tent, with the Marchioness and an
infant daughter by her side, and wears a fancy dress, with a scarf over
his right shoulder--the ribbon and badge of the Garter. The other
portraits are those of the Ducal house of Beaufort, since its creation
in 1682.
The situation of this hereditary mansion is too low to produce a
striking feature in the landscape; but it commands very agreeable views
of the town of Monmouth and its environs--with the rivers Monnow and
Wye, whose waters unite and form one channel a short distance below Troy
House.
Grosmont, from which the lords of Raglan take the rank of Viscount, is
entitled to a brief notice in this place. In old writings it is spelt
Grysmond, and contains a population of about eight hundred. The parish
church, dedicated to St. Nicholas, is in the patronage of the Prince of
Wales. In the churchyard, in the east wall of the chancel, is a
monumental slab, said to cover the remains of Kent, or Gwent, a
Franciscan monk, whose wonderful achievements in the early part of the
fourteenth century[310] afford materials for many local traditions.
According to one of these, the inhabitants are indebted to this good
neighbourly monk for the bridge over the Monnow, on the road to
Kentchurch in Herefordshire. It is called John of Kent’s Bridge, and is
said to have been built in one night.
The Castle of Grosmont is a picturesque ruin.[311] It stands on a height
commanding the view of a beautiful valley watered by the river Monnow,
and bounded by Craig Savenny and the Garway Hill. The remains of this
ancient castle occupy the summit of this hill, or rather eminence; its
ivied walls, partly impending over the precipitous banks of the river,
and towering at intervals through a grove of wide-spreading oaks, render
the view extremely picturesque.
“By Grysmond’s ruins, scarred with years,
On yonder roofless turret standing,
How rich--how beautiful appears
The scene beneath my eye expanding!
The oak’s green banner clothes the steep,
There--herds and harvests bless the Giver;
And there, in many a crystal sweep,
Descends the Monnow’s classic river!
And here--if e’er romance be found
To love the vale or haunt the mountain--
Here is her home, with ivy bound,
And here her grot, and crystal fountain.
And here--to him who seeks repose,
By sorrow worn, or passion driven--
Here is a refuge from his woes,
And here sweet intercourse with Heaven!” &c.
Monmouth.--Of this ancient town and its Castle, the limits prescribed to
the present work will not permit us to indulge in any minute
description. But before entering upon the Abbey of Llanthony--the next
subject for illustration--the birthplace of Henry the Fifth is entitled
to a general notice. The bridge over the Monnow, with its ancient
gate-house at the west end, is, perhaps, the most striking feature of
the place. Two other bridges, one over the Trothy, and a third over the
Wye, contribute in no small degree to heighten the picturesque effect,
as the stranger perambulates the scene and recalls the many interesting
facts, connected with Monmouth and its vicinity, which to history and
romance have given an early and permanent lustre.
The Castle--of which so little remains that its original appearance can
only be described by reference to the historical fragments that still
mark the spot--is of unquestionable antiquity. It is supposed to have
been built--or rather perhaps rebuilt--by John of Monmouth, whose
adherence to the Barons cost him his estate, but contributed to the
success of the cause in which he had embarked. The King having created
his son Earl of Lancaster, this estate was annexed to the earldom. The
Castle became a favourite residence of John of Gaunt, to whom it
descended by his marriage with Blanche, daughter of Henry of Monmouth,
Duke of Lancaster. It was in this Castle that the unfortunate Edward the
Second was confined when taken prisoner by his Queen Isabella.[312]
But the glory of the place is its association with Henry V., son of
Henry of Bolingbroke, who was born here,[313] and whose name and renown
are so familiar to every reader of our national history and the drama.
His dissipated habits while Prince of Wales, and his glorious
achievements in the conquest of France, have been so inimitably
portrayed by Shakspeare, that he still seems to live in our own age--in
the country which his worth and valour adorned--and to be as agreeably
associated with our familiar recollections as the most illustrious
characters of our own day. His good-humoured dissipation and pleasantry
in youth, became the foil to his subsequent greatness; and was probably
as much the origin of that strong admiration with which he is still
regarded, as his general talents, or the splendour of those victories,
to which his personal courage and address so mainly contributed. At the
time, as the reader may recollect, when the French realm was torn
asunder by the opposing factions of the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy,
Henry took the favourable moment for reviving the claims of his
predecessors upon France. Placing himself at the head of his army, he
landed at Harfleur, and with only fifteen thousand men, opposed to
upwards of fifty thousand, won the battle of Agincourt, and returned to
England covered with renown. Apart from the splendour, however, which
attended the campaign, it has been justly remarked that his reign was
more brilliant than beneficial; for whilst his triumph entailed great
misery on France, it “did more harm than good” to the true interests of
England.[314] But his life was short--too short for maturing the plans
he had in view for consolidating the fruits of a brief but eventful
career; and while his greatest projects seemed to be advancing to a
successful issue, Henry of Monmouth was suddenly cut off at the age of
thirty-four.
The connection of this gallant prince and sovereign with Monmouth,
invests it with a lasting claim to veneration on the part of those
tourists who judge of the soil by the character of its products. In the
words of Fluellen, “All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majesty’s
Welsh plood out of your pody;” nor, we may add, weaken a single link of
that chain which connects the hero of Agincourt with the history of
Monmouth.
The Bridge, of which a cut is here introduced, was erected by Edward the
First in 1272. Surmounting the Saxon gateway is a room, used as a
guard-room or a magazine; and immediately above the arch are three
loopholes, made by the authorities of the place, when, at a very recent
period, they apprehended a sudden irruption of Chartists from Newport.
[Illustration]
During the civil war, Monmouth was justly considered as a position of
vast importance. After the defeat of the King’s army at Marston Moor,
Prince Rupert directed his attention to the marches of Wales. He
resolved to fortify Beachley, and with troops of horse to secure the
isthmus between the rivers Severn and Wye; but in this attempt he was
out-manœuvred by Colonel Massey. Lieut.-Colonel Kyrle afterwards
negotiated with Massey to deliver up the town of Monmouth, then held for
the King. Having revolted from the Parliamentary army on the loss of
Bristol, he was willing to purchase reconciliation at the price of
Monmouth. He proposed to Colonel Massey to feign a sudden return with
his forces from Beachley to Gloucester, when he agreed to make a sortie
from Monmouth, as if to fall on his rear, which might then drive him
back, and in the pursuit enter the town with him. Massey, accordingly,
gave out the necessity of a retreat; and having marched three miles,
lodged his troops in the Forest of Dean. This was no sooner reported at
Monmouth, than Kyrle drew out his men to follow in the rear of Massey.
Accordingly, about a mile from Colford, he was surprised by Massey, and
all his horsemen were led towards Monmouth. But the town having been
alarmed by an officer who had escaped, the garrison were on the alert;
yet, as Kyrle himself advanced to the drawbridge with a hundred horse,
and pretended to be returning with many prisoners, the officers and
soldiers were thrown off their guard; and with the consent of the
governor, Colonel Holtby, the drawbridge was lowered, and the town was
entered. “The governor and most of the garrison escaped, some prisoners
were made, and the rest were put to the sword.”
The loss of Monmouth, so justly considered the key of South Wales,
alarmed the garrison of Raglan Castle. The old Marquess called in the
assistance of Prince Rupert’s cavalry, which obtained some advantages
over the flying parties of Massey, but could not disturb his possession
of Monmouth, in which he was strongly fortified.
Geoffrey of Monmouth, whose name gives additional lustre to the place,
was also a native of this town. He is supposed to have been educated in
the ancient Benedictine Priory, founded by Wihenoc de Monmouth, in the
reign of Henry the First. A small chamber of the ancient monastery has
long been shown to inquisitive tourists, as the library of Geoffrey. The
apartment bears in the ceiling and windows certain traces of former
magnificence; but the art is of a later period than the first Henry’s
reign, and probably contemporary with that of Tinterne. Geoffrey, whose
fame as the historian of Britain takes precedence of all his
contemporaries, was archdeacon of his native town, and subsequently,
through the patronage of Robert, Earl of Gloucester, and Alexander,
Bishop of Lincoln--both renowned as the friends of learning--promoted to
the bishopric of St. Asaph. His history is considered to be a vitiated
translation of the “Annals of the British Kings,” written by St.
Thalian, Bishop of St. Asaph, who flourished in the seventh century. It
is very entertaining, and forms an epoch in the literature of this
country, being almost the first production which introduced that species
of composition called _Romance_. “Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History,” says
Campbell in his elaborate Essay on English Poetry, “was not a forgery,
but derived from an Armorican original, and with the pseudo-Turpin’s
Life of Charlemagne, was the grand historical magazine of the romancers.
Popular songs,” he adds, “about Arthur and Charlemagne--or, as some will
have it, Charles Martel--were probably the main sources of Turpin’s
forgeries, and of Geoffrey’s Armorican book.”
In Geoffrey will be found the affecting history of Lear,[315] King of
Britain, who divided his kingdom between Gonerilla and Regan, his two
elder daughters, and disinherited his youngest daughter Cordelia. Hence
Shakspeare drew his incomparable tragedy of “King Lear,” but improved
the pathos of the story by making the death of Cordelia precede that of
Lear; while in the original, the aged father is restored to his kingdom,
and Cordelia survives him. Milton also was indebted to Geoffrey of
Monmouth for his beautiful fiction of Sabrina in the “Mask of Comus.”
But to return to the scene under notice:--
The Priory, of which little remains, was a cell belonging to the
Benedictine Monastery of Saumur in Anjou; and in this, as we have said,
the renowned Geoffrey is believed to have prosecuted his studies. By
some writers he is called a monk of the Dominican order; but, according
to Leland, the fact has never been established; nor have we any sure
grounds for believing that, as others report, he attained the dignity of
Cardinal under the Holy See. He has higher claims to the reverential
remembrance of posterity, than either a monk’s cowl or a cardinal’s hat.
But notwithstanding his reputed Treatise on the Holy Sacrament, and
poetical Commentaries on Merlin, his fame must ever rest on the
original, or translated, History[316] of Britain, to which we have
already alluded.
Queen Elizabeth, we are told, was fond of tracing her descent from the
British line; and Spenser, in his “Faërie Queen,” introduces his
Chronicle of Briton Kings, from Brut to Arthur, with the following
address:--
“Thy name, oh Soveraine Queene, thy realme and race,
From this renowned Prince derived arre,
Who mightily upheld that royal mace,
Which now thou bear’st, to thee descended farre,
From mighty Kings and Conquerors in warre.
Thy fathers and thy grandfathers of old,
Whose noble deeds above the northern starre,
Immortal Fame for ever hath enrolled,
As in that Old Man’s book they were in order told.”
Near the bridge of the Monnow stands the ancient--
Church of St. Thomas. The simplicity of its form--to quote the
historian of the place--the circular shape of the door, the arch
separating the nave from the chancel, the ornaments of which bear a
Saxon character, seem to indicate that it was constructed before the
Conquest. The western window and some of the other apertures--which are
ornamented Gothic--have been evidently formed since the original
foundation.
Monmouth, the Blestium of Antoninus, is supposed to have been the site
of a Roman station. We know, from historical records, that it was a
fortress in early times, and one of the strongholds occupied by the
Saxons to maintain their conquests between the Severn and the Wye, and
check the incursions of the Welsh. The town appears to have been
fortified with a wall and a moat, except where it was secured by the
river. At the Leland’s Survey, parts of the dilapidated walls were still
remaining, the moat entire, the four gates standing, which he calls the
Monk’s Gate, to the north; the Eastern Gate; the Wyegate; and the Monnow
or Western Gate. At present there are few or no distinct vestiges of the
walls; and the only part of the moat which can be traced, was pointed
out as that stretching from the back of Whitecross Street to the remains
of an ancient gateway, and thence to the Wye. Of the four gates
mentioned by Leland, that called the Monk’s Gate, which stood near the
Hereford road, is now demolished. Parts of two round towers which
flanked the eastern gate are visible. Of the latter no traces are left.
But that over the Monnow, as shown in the preceding cut, is nearly
entire, and bears the marks of very great antiquity. It was the opinion
of a celebrated historian of the place, that the circular arches, the
massive solidity of the structure, and some minuter features, were
sufficient to remove all doubts as to its Saxon origin; and that the
alterations it underwent in the time of the first Edward, were only
repairs executed in conformity with the original plan. But as this is
not a field for antiquarian disquisitions--but only a record of opinions
generally received--we are content to follow the popular belief, and
assign to it a date somewhat anterior to that of the Conquest.
Of Monmouth, Churchyard sings:--
“The Kinge here borne did prove a peerless Prince;
He conquered France and reigned nine yeares in hap;
There was not here so great a victor since,
That had such chaunce and fortune in his lap.
For he by fate and force did covet all,
And, as turn came, stroke hard at Fortune’s ball,
With manly mind, and ran a reddie waye
To lose a feint, or winne the gole by playe.
If Monmouth bring such princes forth as this,
A soyle of grace it shall be call’d of right;
Speake what you can, a happie seat it is,
A trim shiere town for noble Baron or Knight;
A cittie sure, as free as is the best,
Where ’Size is kept, and learned lawyers rest;
Such auncient wise, in meete and wholesome ayre,
Where the best sort of people do repayre.”
Kymin Hill, on the south-east side of Monmouth, commands one of the
finest views in the kingdom. To this enchanting prospect, the celebrated
lines by Dyer may be applied with little alteration:--
“Now I gain the mountain’s brow--
What a landscape lies below!
No clouds, no vapours intervene;
But the gay, the open scene,
Does the face of Nature show
In all the hues of heaven’s bow;
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the sight.
Old castles on the cliffs arise,
Proudly towering in the skies;
Rushing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence ascending fires.
Half his beams Apollo sheds
On the yellow mountain heads,
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,
And glitters on the broken rocks.”
“And see the rivers, how they run
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun!
Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landscape tire the view?”
* * * * *
AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to in the preceding article on
Raglan Castle and its vicinity:--Dugdale--Camden--Collins’
Peerage--Speed--Hollinshed--Williams’ Monmouth--Grafton--Robert of
Gloucester--Illustrations of British History--Peck’s
Curiosa--Stow--Winwood--Manners and Customs of England--Pictorial
History--Memoirs of the Court of James I.--Osborne’s
Memoirs--Evelyn’s Diary--Strutt--Somers’ Tracts--Howel’s
Letters--Barber’s Tour--Bayly’s Apophthegms of the Marquess of
Worcester--Churchyard--Wood’s Rivers of Wales--Thomas’
Raglan--Carne--Archæological Journal--Clarendon’s History--Certamen
Religiosum--Ellis’s Original Letters--Memoirs of
Swift--Carlyle--Parliamentary Papers--Mercurius
Civicus--Edwards--The Family History--History of the Civil
War--Chronicles--Rushworth’s Papers--Lodge’s Illustrations--County
History and Local Descriptions--Sir R. Colt Hoare--Coxe--Notes of a
Personal Visit to Raglan--Communications from Correspondents,
etc.--_See_ APPENDIX.
LLANTHONY ABBEY,
Monmouthshire.
“‘Mongst Hatteril’s lofty hills, that with the clouds are crowned,
The valley Ewias lies immured so steep and round,
As they believe that see the mountains rise so high,
Might think the straggling herds were grazing in the sky;
Which in it such a shape of solitude doth bear,
As Nature at the first appointed it for prayer;
Where in an aged cell, with moss and ivy grown,
In which not to this day the sun hath ever shone;
That reverend British Saint, in zealous ages past,
In contemplation lived, and did so truly fast,
As he did only drink what crystal Hodney yields,
And fed upon the leeks he gathered in the fields.
In memory of whom, in the revolving year,
The Welshmen on his day that sacred herb do wear!”--_Drayton._
[Illustration: S]AINT DAVID, uncle of the renowned King Arthur, and
titular Saint of Wales, was the first who introduced the rites of
Christian worship into these mountain solitudes. Selecting for his
hermitage a spot which had all the characteristics of a rude and
unfrequented wilderness, he built a chapel on the banks of the
Honddy--the stream by which it was watered--and there spent many years
of his life in the exercise of an austere devotion. The reputation of
his sanctity having spread over the surrounding country brought many
pilgrims to his cell; and when at length he was added to the list of
canonized saints, it was still resorted to as a place long consecrated
by the practice of a holy life.
In the reign of William Rufus--as attested by the Abbey records--the
hallowed retreat was thus discovered. Hugh de Laci, a great Norman
baron, having on a hunting excursion followed the deer into this
secluded valley, sat down at the conclusion of the chase to refresh
himself and his attendants. The wildness and beauty of the scenery
around them appeared to have affected their minds with unwonted
impressions; and the accidental visit was thus prolonged for the sake of
the rude but romantic valley which the morning’s adventure had so
unexpectedly thrown open.
[Illustration: _The Nave._
Llanthony Abbey.]
William, one of the Baron’s retainers, feeling oppressed by the heat of
the weather, and fatigued by the roughness of the mountain tract through
which they had passed, gladly threw himself down on the soft grass to
seek a few minutes’ repose. But the novelty and grandeur of the scene
awakening his curiosity, he was tempted to make a hasty survey of the
spot; and turning towards the river, that here and there filled the
solitude with its murmurs, he caught a glimpse of the little chapel with
which St. David had hallowed the scene. Suddenly inspired with religious
enthusiasm, he felt an irresistible inclination to linger near the spot;
and at last, dismissing his attendants, he took up his new abode in the
desert; and, like his devout predecessor, consecrated his life to the
service of God, or rather to the contemplation of divine things. He laid
aside his belt--says the recording monk of Llanthony--and girded himself
with a rope. Instead of fine linen, he made unto himself a vestment of
haircloth; and instead of a soldier’s cloak, he loaded himself with
heavy iron. The suit of armour which, in his warrior life, had defended
him from the weapons of the enemy, he now wore as a garment highly
suitable for hardening him against the temptations of his old enemy,
Satan. So that the outer man being thus mortified by austerity, the
inner man might become day by day better disposed and purified for the
service of God. And in order that his zeal might not cool, adds the
pious historian, he thus sacrificed himself, and continued to wear his
hard armour, until the iron and steel were absolutely worn out with rust
and age.
In this manner the devout ascetic spent his years, which otherwise might
have been devoted, like those of his kinsmen, to acts of plunder and
bloodshed; and it only leaves room for regret that his example was not
more generally followed by his companions, whose armour, unfortunately
for mankind, was never suffered to “rust;” and who often, at that
period, transformed the beautiful Welsh frontier into a wide
battle-field. The austerity of his life, witnessed by the rust on his
armour, established his reputation for sanctity; and the cell that
harboured a pious philosopher, was soon regarded as a shrine where he
maintained constant intercourse with those angels and blessed spirits,
whose office was to watch over the saints of that early day.
His fame becoming general among the religious fraternities, Father
Ernesi, confessor to Queen Maude, was induced to make a pilgrimage to
the Honddy; and there, entering into a holy alliance with the steel-clad
hermit, he set immediately to work, and with most laudable industry
erected a chapel on the spot, which was consecrated by Urban, Bishop of
the Diocese, and Rammeline, Bishop of Hereford, and dedicated to the
honour of St. John the Baptist, whose solitary life in the wilderness
they affected to imitate.
Soon after this event, in the early history of Llanthony, Hugh de Laci,
Earl of Hereford, listening to the ghostly exhortation of Ernesi, to
evince his faith by good works, founded a Priory of Canons-Regular of
the Order of St. Augustine, and placed it with all solemnity, as in the
former instance, under the patronage of the blessed St. John. Of this
new establishment, Father Ernesi, as he had a good right to expect, was
elected Prior. This was the commencement of a new and important era for
the fame of Llanthony, which, under the united management of the twain
brothers--both in the odour of sanctity--acquired daily reputation, and
drew to its sacred precincts some of the greatest men of the realm. The
temporal affairs of the rising Abbey attained unwonted prosperity by the
personal countenance and support of King Henry and his Queen, who were
but too happy to exchange a portion of their superfluous wealth for an
interest in the prayers of that holy brotherhood, who had elevated the
banks of the Honddy to a near relationship with Heaven, and held in
their hands--as it was currently believed--the “title-deeds of rich and
extensive settlements in Paradise. And as the latter were assigned,
without partiality, to the highest bidder,” the proceeds for masses
alone--we speak not ironically but historically--increased the annual
revenues to an amount that, in those times, was justly considered a fair
proof of monastic prosperity. On the other hand, it is piously averred,
that such was the disinterestedness and unworldly-mindedness of the
brotherhood, that they despised everything that bore not the stamp of
spiritual riches--that they declined all offers of lands, goods, and
chattels, that were liberally tendered to their house.[317] In that case
it seems probable that the Abbey of Llanthony was not erected in the
ordinary way; that is, by dint of money, but by the force of miracles;
and, like a certain city of old, was conjured into its fair and lofty
proportions by the powers of Harmony. But after duly weighing the
question, the evidence in favour of money seems conclusive; and indeed
certain _scripta_ are now extant to show that the brotherhood of
Llanthony were not less sensible of the value of money--as a spiritual
means--than any of their illustrious fraternity. But it may be said,
with much truth, that the uses to which their money was applied,
produced those “miracles” of Art, which it is the object of this work to
illustrate.
[It is always to be kept in view, that these holy men, in professing
poverty, were, literally, personally poor. The riches, of which they
were merely the guardians--but which are so often charged against them
as proofs of their avarice--were expended on the house of God; in other
words, in fostering the arts, in relieving the poor, in practical
hospitality, and in cultivating a niggardly soil. Personally, they were
poor trustees upon a vast property, which they were bound to employ for
the glory of God and the good of mankind; and if, in some cases that may
be named, the funds thus contributed by the pious were perverted to less
laudable purposes, the fact that, in general, they were applied to the
excellent uses contemplated by the testators, is not to be controverted.
The churches, hospitals, almshouses, cells, and priories, which were
thus founded, built, and endowed from these sources, are proofs of the
fidelity, good sense, and Christian philanthropy, with which the church
property was then administered.]
Once upon a time, as the Monkish historian has told us, the Queen of
King Henry, who desired to bestow a boon on William, of whose entire
disinterestedness she was not apprised, desired permission to put her
hand into his bosom;[318] and when, with great modesty, the holy man
submitted to her importunity, she conveyed a large purse of gold between
his coarse chemise and iron boddice; and thus, by a pleasant and
innocent subtilty, administered, as she imagined, the means of comfort.
But, oh, his wonderful contempt of the world! He displayed a rare
example that the truest happiness is found to consist in possessing
little or nothing of the good things of this life. He accepted, indeed,
the Queen’s gift; but it was only that it might be expended, not in any
worldly or selfish gratification, but in beautifying the house of God.
But having by this act overcome the scrupulous delicacy with which he
had hitherto resisted the temptation of riches, they now flowed in from
every quarter, until that noble edifice was completed, the mouldering
Nave of which is represented in the engraving opposite.[319]
Of the situation of the Abbey, a very picturesque and glowing
description, in good Latin, is given by the old historian, who paints
the wild scenery, in which the first hermits took up their abode, with
the pencil of a Salvator.[320] The following translation, though from a
modern pen, is also a picturesque and not inaccurate sketch of the
scene, which retains all the natural features ascribed to it by the
first writer; but with one engrossing feature superadded--that of a
stately abbey in the last stage of desolation--its towers and arches
bearing witness to the arts employed in its construction, and the sacred
objects of its foundation. In the following passage, Giraldus alludes
to the Itinerary of Archbishop Baldwin[321] in 1188.
“In the deep Vale of Ewyas,” he writes, “which is about an arrow-shot in
breadth, encircled on all sides by lofty mountains, stands the church of
St. John the Baptist, covered with lead, and an arched roof of stone;
and considering the nature of the place, not unhandsomely constructed on
the very spot where the humble chapel of St. David had formerly stood,
decorated only with moss and clay, a situation truly calculated for
religious retirement, and better adapted for canonical discipline than
all the monasteries of the British isle. It was founded, as already
observed, by two hermits, in honour of religious seclusion, far removed
from the bustle of life, and planted in a solitary vale watered by the
river Hodeni--from which it was called Lanhodeni; for _lan_ signifies an
ecclesiastical place.[322]
“Owing to its mountainous situation, the rains are frequent, the winds
boisterous, and the clouds in winter almost continual. The air of the
place, though heavy, is found to be salubrious; and diseases are so
rare, that the brotherhood, when worn out with long toil and affliction
with the daughter--that is, New Llanthony on the Severn--no sooner
return to this asylum, and their mother’s lap in the Vale of Ewyas, than
they regain their wonted strength and vigour. For, as my topographical
history of Ireland testifies, in proportion as we proceed to the
eastward, the face of the sky is more pure and subtile, and the air more
piercing and inclement; and as we draw nearer to the westward, the air
becomes more cloudy, but, at the same time, is more temperate and
healthy.
“Here, while sitting in their cloister, and enjoying the fresh air, the
monks, when they happen to look up towards the horizon, behold the tops
of the mountains, as it were, touching the heavens, and herds of wild
deer feeding on their summits. The body of the sun does not become
visible above the heights of the mountains, even in serene weather,
until about the first hour, or a little more. Truly this is a spot well
adapted for contemplation--a happy and delightful spot--fully competent,
from its first establishment, to supply all its own wants, had not the
extravagance of English luxury, the pride of a sumptuous table, the
increasing growth of intemperance and ingratitude, added to the
negligence of its patrons and prelates, reduced it from freedom to
sterility; and if the step-daughter [Lanthonia Secunda], no less
enviously than odiously, had not supplanted her mother.
It seems worthy of remark, that all the priors who were hostile to the
old monastery died ‘by Divine visitation.’ William, who first despoiled
the place of its herds and storehouses, being deposed by the fraternity,
forfeited his right of sepulture among the priors. Clement seemed to
like this place of study and prayer; yet, after the example of Heli
[Eli], the priest, as he neither reproved nor restrained his brethren
from plunder, and other offences, he died by a paralytic stroke. And
Roger, who was more an enemy to this place than either of his
predecessors, and openly carried away everything which they had left
behind--robbing the church of its books, ornaments, and privileges--was
also struck with a paralytic affection long before his death, resigned
his honours, and lingered out the remainder of his days in sickness and
solitude.
In the reign of King Henry the First, when the Mother-Church was as much
celebrated for her affluence as for her sanctity[323]--two qualities
which are seldom found thus united--the fame of so much religion
attracted hither Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, who was at that time Prime
Minister; for it is virtue to love virtue, even in another man; and a
great proof of innate goodness it is to show a detestation of those
vices which hitherto have not been avoided.
When he had reflected with admiration on the nature of the place, the
solitary life[324] of the fraternity, living in canonical obedience, and
serving God without a murmur or complaint, he returned to the King, and
related to him what he thought most worthy of remark; and after spending
the greater part of the day in the praises of this place, he finished
his panegyric with these words--“Why should I say more? The whole
treasure of the King and his kingdom would not be sufficient to build
such a cloister.”
Having held the minds of the King and the Court for a long time in
suspense by this assertion, he at length explained the enigma, by
saying, that he alluded to the “cloister of mountains,” by which this
church is on every side environed. But
William--the warrior who first discovered this place--and his companion
Ernisius, a priest, having heard, perhaps--as it is written in the
Fathers, according to the opinion of Jerome--“that the church of Christ
decreased in virtues as it increased in riches”--were often used
devoutly to solicit the Lord, that this place might never obtain great
possessions. They were exceedingly concerned when this religious
foundation began to be enriched by its first lord and patron, Hugh de
Lacy, and by the lands and ecclesiastical benefices conferred upon it
by the bounty of others of the faithful. From their predilection to
poverty, they rejected a great many offers of manors and churches; and
being situated in a wild spot, they would not suffer the thick and
wooded parts of the valley to be cultivated and levelled, lest they
should be tempted to recede from their eremitical mode of life.
But whilst the Mother-Church increased daily in riches and endowments, a
rival Daughter--as we shall see--availing herself of the hostile state
of the country, sprang up at Gloucester, under the protection of Milo,
Earl of Hereford; as if, by Divine Providence, and through the merits of
the saints, and prayers of those holy men (of whom two lie buried before
the high altar), it were destined that the Daughter-Church should be
founded in superfluities, whilst the Mother continued in that laudable
state of mediocrity, which she had always affected and coveted.
“Wherefore let the active reside there, the contemplative here; there
the pursuit of terrestrial wishes, and here the love of celestial
delights; there let them enjoy the concourse of men, here the presence
of angels; there let the powerful of this world be entertained, here let
the poor of Christ be relieved; there, I say, let human actions and
pompous declamations be heard, but here let reading and prayers be heard
only in whispers; there let opulence, the parent and nurse of vice,
increase with cares; here let the virtuous and golden mean be
all-sufficient.
“In both places, the canonical discipline instituted by St. Augustine,
which is now distinguished above all other orders, is observed; for the
Benedictines, when their wealth was increased by the fervour of charity,
and multiplied by the bounty of the faithful, under the pretext of a bad
dispensation, corrupted, by gluttony and indulgence, our Order--that is,
the Augustinian--which, in its original state of poverty, was held in
high estimation. The Cistercian order, derived from the former, at first
deserved praise and commendation, from its adhering voluntarily to the
original vows of poverty and sanctity, until ambition, the blind mother
of mischief, unable to fix bounds to prosperity, was introduced; for as
Seneca[325] says, ‘Too great happiness makes men greedy, nor are their
desires ever so temperate as to terminate in what is acquired.’”
Here the author, as if to contrast them with those of Llanthony Prima,
indulges in a learned and eloquent apostrophe against the luxury and
pride of several orders of monks. He concludes it with this anecdote: “I
have judged it proper to insert in this place an instance of an answer
which King Richard--Cœur de Lion--made to Fulke, a good and holy man, by
whom God, in these our days, has wrought many signs in the kingdom of
France. This man had, among other things, said to the king, “You have
three daughters, namely, Pride, Luxury, and Avarice, and as long as they
shall remain with you, you can never expect to be in favour with God.”
To which the king, after a short pause, replied, “I have already given
away those daughters in marriage--Pride to the Templars, Luxury to the
Black Monks, and Avarice to the White.”[326]
“It is a remarkable circumstance,” he continues, “or rather a miracle,
concerning Llanthony, that although it is on every side surrounded by
lofty mountains, not stony or rocky, but of a soft nature, and covered
with grass, yet Parian stones are frequently found there, and are called
Freestones, from the facility with which they admit of being cut and
polished; and with these the church is beautifully built. It is also
wonderful, that when, after a diligent search, all the stones have been
removed from the mountains, and no more can be found; yet, upon another
search, a few days afterwards, they reappear in greater quantities to
those who seek them.”
After some farther remarks on the manners of the monastic orders, the
venerable author thus beautifully concludes:--“In these temperate
regions I have obtained, according to the usual expression, a place of
dignity, but no great omen of future pomp or riches; and possessing a
small residence near the castle of Brecheinoc [Brecknock?], well adapted
to literary pursuits, and to the contemplation of _eternity_,[327] I
envy not the riches of Crœsus; happy and contented with that mediocrity,
which I prize far beyond all the perishable and transitory things of
this world.”
So far the monk of Llanthony--whose partiality is very excusable; but,
unfortunately, the act or charter of Edward IV., uniting the two abbeys,
gives a different colouring to the transactions between the two
abbeys--mother and daughter. It recites that, owing to the depredations
committed on the convent by the neighbouring inhabitants, and the
frequent removal of the priors and other members of the convent, the
religious functions were negligently performed, and acts of charity and
hospitality to strangers no longer exercised: Also, that as John Adams,
the prior, had profusely squandered away the revenues of the church,
maintaining only four canons besides himself, who paid no attention to
the holy duties of the establishment: And whereas all due regard and
reverence were paid to the sacred offices of the church by the members
of the monastery of new Llanthony near Gloucester, the king hereby
grants all the lands--both in England, Wales, and Ireland--now
appertaining to the convent of Llanthony in Wales, to the prior of the
convent of Llanthony near Gloucester, to have and to hold for ever, on
the payment of the fine of three hundred marks, and on condition that he
maintains an establishment--dative and removable at will--of a prior and
four canons, as the mother-church, for the purpose of performing
religious service and mass for the souls of its founders. “Thus,”
continues our author,[328] “in the short period of thirty years, we see
the simple chapel of St. David transmuted into a spacious and elegant
abbey; that same building nearly deserted, and another, still more
magnificent, erected and translated from the solitary banks of the
little river Hodni, to the rich and luxurious shores of the Severn.”
Milo, Founder of Llanthony Secunda.--Under this head, it is recorded in
the Abbey Chronicle, that in the reign of King Henry, son of the
Conqueror, there flourished a certain warrior of noble family named
Gwalterus, or Walter, who was Constable, under the King, of the Castles
of Gloucester and Hereford. The said Walter caused to be erected on his
own demesne the Castle of Gloucester, and dying some time thereafter,
his remains were conveyed to Llanthony Abbey, in Wales, and there
buried. The aforesaid Walter left an only son, Milo by name, whom King
Henry created Earl of Hereford; and moreover, by way of augmentation to
the said earldom, made over to him and his heirs for ever a grant of the
whole Forest of Dean.
This Milo, first earl of the name, took to wife Sibylla, heiress of
Brecknock, and daughter of Bernard and Agnes of New March.[329]--The
offspring of this marriage were five sons and three daughters, namely,
Roger, Henry, Walter, Matthew, and William, Margery, Bertha, and Lucy.
He founded the Abbey or Priory of New Llanthony, near Gloucester, on the
25th of May, 1136, being the first of King Stephen’s reign; and dying on
Christmas-eve, 1143, was buried in the chancel of the Abbey which he had
founded seven years before. After his demise, he was succeeded in his
titles and estates by each of his five sons, one after the other; but
all of whom died without legitimate issue. Hereupon his possessions were
shared in equal proportions by his three surviving daughters.[330] Lucy,
his third daughter, was married to Herbert Fitz-Herbert, and had for her
share and dowry the Forest of Dean, and other estates in England.[331]
The offspring of this marriage was a son named Peter, who became the
father of a long line of descendants.
Bertha, second daughter of Count Milo, married William de Brewes, and
took for dowry the lordship of Brecknock. The offspring from this
marriage were three sons, William, Egidius, and Reginald. William, their
eldest son and heir, in the time of King John, having made war upon his
enemy Guenhunewyn, subdued him, and slew no less than three thousand
Welsh in one day at Elvel. This battle took place on the morrow of St.
Lawrence the Martyr, in the year of our Lord 1498. But for this
rebellious act he was disinherited by King John; and, without trial,
condemned to quit the realm of England. He died in exile; while his
unhappy wife and their only son, being thrown into prison by the same
heartless and arbitrary power, died shortly after in captivity.
Egidius, the second son, became Bishop of Hereford; and Reginald de
Brewes, the third son, after the death of King John, and that of his two
brothers the afore-named William and Egidius, was pronounced heir to all
the possessions which had been forfeited by his brother William, and
took possession of the same accordingly. He married a daughter of
William de la Bruere, and had by his wife a son whom he named William de
Brewes, _quartus_. The latter espoused the lady Eve, daughter of the
renowned William, Earl Marshall, so frequently mentioned in these
pages.[332] By this union he had issue four daughters--Isabella,
Matilda, Eve, and Alionora. Of these, Isabella was married to David, son
of Llewellyn, Prince of Wales.
But at a great festival where he presided, immediately after the Paschal
Feast, in 1229, Llewellyn conceiving a bitter jealousy between his wife
and the said William de Brewes, most treacherously caused the latter to
be ignominiously hanged--an atrocity which threw the whole Welsh
frontier into the greatest confusion and alarm; for at that time King
Henry was still in France with a large army; and in his absence the
country was but ill provided with the means of enforcing the law.
Matilda, the second daughter, married Roger Mortimer, Lord Wigmore, from
whom sprang a numerous progeny. Eve, the third daughter, married William
de Cartello. Alionora, the fourth and youngest, married Humphrey de
Bohun, with the lordship of Brecknock, which for some time had belonged
to the Counts or Earls of Hereford. Among the names here mentioned,
those of Bertha and Lucy, daughters of Milo, are to be held in special
reverence as eminent patrons and benefactors of New Llanthony.
And here, for the present, we take leave of the genealogical table,
which exhibits in many striking examples the instability of fortune, the
frailty of human nature, the vanity of riches, and the uncertain tenure
of life.
[Illustration: C]HARTERS.--The following is an extract from the charter
of King John, in the first year of his reign, wherein all grants
previously made in favour of Llanthony are recited and confirmed:--
“Know all men by these presents, that I, John, King of England, have,
out of love to God, confirmed in perpetual offering to God, to the
Blessed Virgin, St. John the Baptist, and the Canons-Regular of
Lantonay, the donations or grants hereunder described, which have been
reasonably and lawfully conceded to them, viz.: By deed of gift from our
father the late King Henry, the chapel near the Castle of Gloucester,
the school in the same town, a moiety of the fishery of Horsepol, which
is in our domain, with iiij lib. of land in the manor of Bernington, as
alms in perpetuity.”--So much for the new Abbey near Gloucester.
He then recites and confirms the benefactions of Hugh and Walter de
Laci, consisting of lands, woods, fisheries, villages, houses, and
whatever property in those times was essential to the prosperity of a
great religious establishment. It is a long deed; and, besides those
already noticed, introduces a full list of benefactors, whose names and
families--though of great note and influence at that day--have long
vanished from the political horizon, and are seldom found but in ancient
title-deeds, or charters like the present, in which their good works are
faithfully and minutely registered.
It is to be observed, however, that after the establishment of New
Llanthony on the Severn, the benefactions to the Mother-Abbey are few
and insignificant. The former, under the patronage of the Milo family,
became suddenly rich, and able to introduce those embellishments of art,
and that luxurious mode of life, which opened a wide channel for the
diffusion of its revenues; but while it increased its splendour, insured
its ultimate poverty.
* * * * *
By a Deed given by Edward the Second, in the eighteenth year of his
reign, the property conveyed to Llanthony by Walter de Laci and others,
is again revised and confirmed. He grants also permission to elect from
their own body, or from any other, as they may see meet, a fit person to
preside over the Church and Priory of Llanthony, whenever a vacancy
occurs, concluding--“Et ut hæc libertas eligendi eis in perpetuum
perseveret illibata, huic scripto Sigillum meum est appositum.”
The Deed given by Walter and Hugh de Laci to the Canons of Llanthony is
then recited; and by this document a vast amount of property,
privileges, arable lands, pastures, fisheries, hunting-grounds, and
various other benefactions, are described as finally made over to the
Prior and Brotherhood, out of pure love for the glory of God, the
welfare of their own souls, the souls of their predecessors, successors,
and kinsfolk.
In this munificent grant is comprised the whole valley--‘totam
vallem’--of the Ewyas, with all its appurtenances, in which the church
is situated; describing, at the same time, its boundaries:--“Et concedo
quod habeant omnimodam venationem et dominationem infra metus terræ
suæ.” All this is followed by other unquestionable privileges, such as
united with the spiritual an amount of despotic power, which invested
the Prior and Canons of Llanthony with an authority in things temporal,
no way inferior to that exercised by a feudal Baron in his own castle,
and over his own vassals.[333]
* * * * *
But in spite of its revenues, and the ‘personal example and influence of
a few--but only a few--distinguished members and benefactors of this
monastery, it fell gradually into disrepute and decay.’ The principal
cause has been generally ascribed to the rival Abbey at Gloucester, by
which benefactors were alienated, and good works averted from that on
the Honddy. But there were other causes at work--the evil lives of the
Priors themselves; their indolence, luxury, and licentiousness; their
dissipating the funds, and perverting their use to unsanctified
purposes; which did more to degrade monastic habits, and pull down the
sacred edifice, than could have been accomplished by their most
inveterate enemies. And enemies they certainly had--both formidable and
frequent; for they were exposed, by their insulated position and
supposed wealth, to irruptions from those bands of marauders, to whom
plunder and forced contribution from holy men were more like a pastime
than military enterprise. But of this hereafter.
[Illustration: W]E are now to give some account of the decline and final
dissolution of Llanthony, brought about by causes which are thus
recorded by the Latin historian:--Whereas certain priories and religious
houses, but more especially the aforesaid Priory of St. John the Baptist
of Lanthony _Prima_ in Wales, as well by frequent removals and
expulsions of the Priors and occupiers of the places aforesaid, as by
divers secular persons and others, tenants of these possessions, were so
profligately squandered, dilapidated, and mismanaged, both in regard to
their houses, substance, and affairs, that divine service and the
regular observance of religious duties have become less frequent than
ever; that the means of hospitality, almsgiving, and, above all, the
works of piety and charity, which had been there established of old, and
customarily done and observed in the place, are now withdrawn and
perverted from the original design: And whereas John Adams, Prior of
Lanthony, as we are plainly informed, hath wasted and destroyed, and
continues to waste and destroy, the fruits, revenues, products, and
emoluments of the said Priory; and hath found and supported no Canons,
except himself and four others, little given to a religious life; that
he hath withdrawn, and does withdraw, the forms of divine worship, works
of hospitality, piety, and charity, which were there wont to be done and
maintained, according to the original foundation of the same; whereby
the vows and intentions of the Founders have been and are so
fraudulently perverted, to the manifest offence and great displeasure of
Almighty God, and contrary to the design of the Founder: And whereas our
will is, that the pious vows of the Founders of the said Priory be not
thus shamefully frustrated and forgotten; but in reverence of the
salutary order observed by those godly men, the Prior and Canons-Regular
of the Monastery of Lanthony, near Gloucester; and observing in what an
exemplary manner divine service and punctual observances are every day
celebrated therein, with honour and strict obedience, according to the
full extent of its revenues: And whereas it is our earnest desire to
make suitable provision for the honour of God and his Church, by a
restoration of the forms of divine worship, and by application of the
revenues left by the Founder to their original and legitimate object:
We, therefore, have here, by an act of special grace, granted and
conceded to our beloved in CHRIST, Henry Deen, Prior, etc., of Lanthony,
near Gloucester, to that Convent and his successors for ever, the right
of patronage, and the advocation of the Priory and Conventual Church of
Lanthony, etc., in Wales. Also the Priory, etc., with all members,
cells, churches, chapels, domains, lands, and tenements, whatsoever and
wheresoever--in England, Wales, and Ireland--as parcels of the said
Priory, or in whatever manner belonging thereto; With all rents, etc.,
to have and to hold by the said Prior and Convent of St. Mary of
Lanthony, and their successors--for the sum of three hundred marks, paid
to us beforehand--in pure and perpetual alms for ever. And
Moreover, we grant to the said Prior and Convent, the Conventual Church
or Monastery of Lanthony in Wales; with the priorate, and all rights,
privileges, and appurtenances, to the Prior and Convent of Lanthony,
near Gloucester--their Conventual Church and successors--to be
consolidated, united, appropriated--to transfer, or to be transferred to
their management; and that they possess these in full and proper use for
themselves and their successors for ever; together with, etc.
And these things, all and singular, as promised and permitted,
consolidated, etc., and transferred to them and their successors
aforesaid, to have and to hold for ever, for their proper use, and for
masses and prayers to be performed for our prosperity, and that of
Elizabeth, our well-beloved consort, so long as we remain in the body;
and for the health of our souls when we shall depart this life. Also for
the souls of our progenitors; and for the souls of all who have departed
this life in the Faith.
And it is hereby ordered, that the Prior of New Lanthony and his
Convent, they and their successors, shall exhibit and defray their own
and all expenses incurred in the maintenance of Old Lanthony, and the
Prior and Canons there resident. That the latter office shall be in the
gift of the former, removable at the will and pleasure of the Prior and
Convent for the time being. That four Canons[334] shall there reside,
for the celebration of masses and other divine offices; and for the
administration of the sacraments, and sacramental duties, to the
parishioners and rural population, so long as they are not impeded or
interrupted therein by the rebellious disturbers of our peace. And to
pray for the souls of the Founders of Lanthony _Prima_, and for the
souls above-named; and to be removable at the word or sign of the
Prior, for the time being, of New Lanthony aforesaid, etc. etc.--By the
King at Westminster, the x day of May.[335]
* * * * *
From this date the Abbey of Old Llanthony, which had been grievously
interrupted in its religious duties, and damaged by its own internal
misgovernment, the reckless lives of its inmates, and the frequent
imposts and exactions to which it was subjected by the rebels and
marauders above alluded to, was suffered to fall into decay and
disrepute. Its resources, in obedience to the above decree, were drawn
off from their legitimate channel, and employed to augment the revenues
and foster the pride of its undutiful and “rival Daughter” on the banks
of the Severn. Thus--as the old historian has pathetically
observed--“Filii Matris meæ pugnaverunt contra me; nam leviùs communia
tangunt, sed quodammodo specialiori et tanto atrociori flere, clamando,
Filii uteri mei pugnaverunt contra me, quia--
Non sua sunt summa leviter perstricta sagitta
Pectora, descendit vulnus ad ossa suum.”
Yet, after the lapse of centuries, the Abbey of Old Llanthony presents
an imposing aspect. In that solitude, over which it was erected for the
diffusion of spiritual life and light, it is still an object of
venerable grandeur; while of the luxurious temple of “her Daughter,”
built on one of the most fertile spots in the kingdom, elaborately
ornamented and munificently endowed, the remains are few and
insignificant. Thus, if the old monastic fathers could burst their
cerements and look around them, they would perceive that Time, the
avenger, has drawn a line of as marked distinction between the two
monasteries, as between a greater and a lesser criminal; and, by a just
and discriminating sentence, consigned one to the plough, and the other
to pilgrims and archæologists.[336]
[Illustration: _Llanthony Abbey._
N.W. View.]
The wrongs, of which the older monks of Llanthony so justly complained,
are thus told by their own pious chronicler:--When the storm subsided,
and peace was restored, then did the sons of Llanthony tear up the
bounds of their Mother-Church, and refuse to serve God, as their duty
required, in the old Sanctuary. For great is the difference, said they,
between the rich city of Gloucester, and the wild rocks of the
Hatterill--between the fertile vale of Severn, and the craggy banks of
the Honddy; between the wealth and civilization of England, and the
barren hills and beggarly natives of Wales; between a land of smiling
meadows and fertile orchards, and a region of trackless mountains and
roaring cataracts; in fine--to justify their desertion--between a home
amongst smiling gardens, and a grave in the howling wilderness!
Some of the renegade brethren declared that they wished every stone of
the old foundation were a fleet hare and the hounds after it, that not a
vestige might be left. Alas, says the ‘Jeremiad,’ they of Gloucester
have usurped and lavished all the revenues of the Mother-Church: for
their new abode, they have built stately offices; and the old they have
left to moulder into ruins. But to avoid the open scandal of deserting
their Mother, they send hither, as to a dependent cell, their old and
decrepit members to be cherished in that very bosom--fostered in those
very arms--which they have insulted by ingratitude, and weakened by
wrong and robbery. So great was the poverty to which the few inmates
were reduced, that they were actually without surplices, and at times so
destitute of raiment that they could not with proper decency appear at
divine service. Sometimes the allowance of bread for one day had to
serve for two; whilst in the offshoot at Gloucester there was not only
enough, but abundance and superfluity. When entreated to return to their
Mother, these heartless brethren, who had tasted the sweets of a new
residence, and been corrupted by unwonted luxury, only derided their
appeal. “What!” they replied, “would you have us return to sing
_Miserere_ to the wolves? Do the whelps of wolves delight in choral
harmony?” And when any one was sent to Old Llanthony, whether for health
or discipline, they would exclaim--“Why, what has he done? what fault
has he committed? what law has he broken, that he should be sent into
banishment, shut up in such a prison?”--for it was thus that they spoke
of the Mother-abbey--calling it a dungeon, a prison-house, fit only for
the punishment of great criminals.
In like manner, says the monk, the library was despoiled of its books
and MSS.; the record-room of its deeds and charters; the silk vestments
and relics, embroidered with gold and silver, were carried away from
the vestiary; the treasury was stripped of everything valuable. Whatever
was precious or ornamental--even the bells, notwithstanding their great
weight, were carried off to the rival abbey without the slightest
resistance or redress. It was under these distressing circumstances that
King Edward set about effecting the union to which we have adverted.
* * * * *
But there were other causes at work. It is very apparent that the
religious peace and contemplation to which it was consecrated, were but
rare guests in the old Abbey of Llanthony. Situated on the very border
of countries that were mutually engaged in making or repelling
aggressions, the sanctity of the place was often invaded by those who
returned across the marches from some lawless foray, or by others who
entered the Welsh frontiers to make reprisals. The calm serenity which,
for a brief season, reigned within and around the sanctuary, was
disturbed by continual apprehensions of violence or extortion. The
ministering priest was often interrupted in his sacred office by the
shouts of armed men. The stranger who had come in pilgrim weeds,
confessed, and done penance, was too often found on departure to be a
traitor, ready to conduct the next troop of marauders to the gate, and
extort fresh contributions from the already impoverished brotherhood.
It is also alleged, with plausibility, that from the Cambrian
people--who hated the place because its founders, benefactors, priors,
and brotherhood, were aliens by birth, nation, and language--the abbey
had no very cordial protection or support. During the long border
struggles that preceded and followed its “foundation in the wilderness,”
it was the mark of every invading or retreating foe. Instead of Matins
and Vespers, and the meditations of holy men, the Vale of Ewias was
often the retreat or the rallying point of adventurers, whose
Parthian-like movements rendered them equally dangerous in the charge
and the retreat. The sanctity and seclusion of the place once disturbed,
the spell was broken; outrages were repeated and multiplied with
impunity by those who, having no law, were a law unto themselves; and to
such extremes were these carried, that the Prior and Canons--habituated
as they were, by the rule of their Order, to fasting, and at best to a
coarse and scanty fare--were often reduced to the verge of famine.
In one of the numerous expeditions by which the spirit of retaliation
was kept up, and by which the religious houses were harassed and
plundered, a soldier of the English army writes--“We lie here watching,
praying, fasting, and freezing! We _watch_ in dread of the Welsh, who
beat up our quarters every night; we _pray_ for a safe passage homeward;
we _fast_, for hardly have we any food, the halfpenny loaf being raised
to fivepence; and we _freeze_ for want of clothing, having only a linen
tent to keep out the cold!”
If such was the penance done by an officer of the “victorious army,”
great must have been the sufferings endured by those who had to supply
the “loaf,” as the monks of Llanthony had to do, either in substance or
in coin.
While the Abbey was yet faintly struggling to recover a healthy activity
in its affairs, its temporal revenues, and spiritual offices, so great a
dearth occurred all over Wales, that the Bishop of St. David’s is said
to have died of grief; the Bishop of Llandaff to have been stricken
blind; while the Bishops of Bangor and St. Asaph, on their sees being
rendered utterly destitute, were reduced to the necessity of
supplicating alms. The bondage and destitution of the Welsh at this
period--the evils of want and war--are thus expressed by an old
writer:--“The harp of the churchman is changed into sorrow and
lamentation; the glory of our proud and ancient nobility is faded away.”
It was about this time that the Bishop of Hereford, then Prior of
Llanthony, the better to rescue them from a gross insult and trespass by
a powerful neighbour, and accommodate their numbers to the scanty means
of subsistence within the Welsh border, drew off the major part of the
canons from Llanthony, and gave them an asylum in his own palace.
[After describing, in graphic language, the distractions of the country,
the robbery, violence, murder, and rapine, that were daily perpetrated
in their immediate vicinity, and which threatened the very existence of
the brotherhood, the flagrant desecration that immediately led to their
removal to Hereford is thus recorded:--Est præterea et aliud quod animos
innocentium plus omnibus hiis in fixorio angustiarum acerbiùs terrebat.
Unus namque ex vicinis Wallensibus inimicorum minis et jaculis undignè
impeditus, cùm nullus ei tutus ad latendum vel evadendum locus
superesset, [=c] omni domo sua, ad Lanthoniam convolavit; hanc sibi
constituens domum Refugii ut salvus fieret, quem inimici odio
inexorabili persequentes non longè ab atrio in insidiis sedentes
vigilantiùs opportunitatem observabant, quando in eum casu aliquo tandem
oblatum irarum virus evomere prævalerent. Ipse verò in interiores
officinas, quò securior redderetur, cum suis et ancillis, se ingessit;
ità ut ubi Fratres reficere consueverant, ibi _mulieres_ choros ducere,
et cætera muliebria, ignominiosè tractare non erubescerent!
Quid facient milites Christi tot hostium cuneis tarn atrociter vallati!
Ecce foris pugnæ, et intus timores! Non enim possunt ab intus fratres
divinis officiis, præ ingratorum hostium insolentia, consueta
veneratione interesse: Luget Martha quia pascere non permittitur: dolet
Maria quia sanctæ refectionis epulis privatur; et præterea nimis timet
ne in infirmioribus membris suis alicujus culpæ dehonestetur.]
The result of this, after two years’ residence at Hereford, was the
foundation of the new monastery at Gloucester; but which it was at first
intended should be only a cell, dependent on the Mother-Church on the
Honddy. But inured to this species of daily warfare--familiar with the
dangers of their position, and strong in the belief that they were
objects of regard in the eyes of Him who would assuredly carry them, as
he did the faithful of old, through all their troubles--they are said to
have left the scene of their trials and privations with reluctance; and
to have declared that the gardens of Hereford, and the vineyards of
Gloucester, had no attractions for them like the barren rocks of “Ewias
and the Honddy:”--
And when at last these holy men,
With lingering step and slow,
Had wound their way along the glen
Where Honddy’s[337] waters flow,
They halted--gazed--and heaved a sigh,
And dropt a parting tear--
“Oh, never till this hour,” they cry,
“Was Ewias’ vale so dear!
Through richer lands our feet may roam--
But long our hearts will pine,
And feel they have no earthly home
But Honddy’s hallowed shrine!
Oh, Blessed Mary, shield us well!
And, when the storm is past,
Grant we beside that hallowed cell
May lay our bones at last.”
The prayer was heard--their labours o’er,
Behold their nameless bier,
Beneath the Chancel’s grassy floor,
Where pilgrims drop the tear!
The simple daisy loves the spot,
And there, the leafy June
Strews many a sweet _Forget-me-not_
Beneath the dewy moon.
And hallowed--hallowed be the ground
Where sleep the good and brave,
Decked by the firstlings of the Spring,
And soothed by Honddy’s wave! &c.
It has been already observed, that monastic establishments were not
generally popular among the Cambrians. They reminded them too sensibly
of the haughty domination of those Norman lords, who had parcelled out
the country amongst them, and hoped to extenuate their crimes by the
building and endowment of religious houses. But the memory of what was
gained by force or fraud, was not to be effaced by multiplying shrines
and priories--great crimes were not to be buried under abbey walls. To
every free-born Cambrian, the sight of an abbey appeared like a monument
of his country’s degradation and bondage, for it was difficult to
separate in his mind the blessings of religion from the galling yoke of
oppression; he saw that what was at first gained by force of arms, was
to be retained by the yet stronger hand of spiritual despotism. The
ecclesiastical power was at times more efficient in subjugating a chief,
than all that a feudal baron could carry with him into the field; and
when both united for the purpose of conquest, their strength was
irresistible, the result certain; and the hatred of the oppressed was
naturally roused against the grinding sense of a twofold oppression.
Superstition was a mighty engine. An austere old writer gives us the
following instance of its working in this golden age of the
Church:--“The yeare after this, Gruffyth, son to Conan ap Owen Gwyneth,
a nobleman, died, and was buried in a monke’s cowle at the Abbey of
Conway; and so were all the nobles, for the most part, of that time
buried. For they were made to believe by the old monkes and friers, that
that strange weed was a sure defence betwixt their soulis and hell,
howsoever they died. And all this baggage and superstition received they
with monkes and friers, a few yeares before that, _out of England_. For
the _first_ abbey or frier-house that we read of in Wales, sith the
destruction of the noble house of Bangor, which savered not of Romish
dregges, was the Twy Gwyn, built the yeare 1146; and after that they
swarmed like bees through all the countrie; for then the Cleargie had
forgotten the lesson that they had receaved from the noble clerk,
Ambrosius Telesinus, who, writing in the yeare 540, when the right
Christian faith, which Joseph of Arimathea taught at the isle of Avalon,
reigned in this land, before the proud and bloodthirsty monke Augustine
infested it with the Romish doctrine, in a certaine ode hath these
verses in Welsh, which may be thus Englished, almost word for word:--
“Wo be to that priest yborne,
That will not cleanlie weed his corne,
And preach his charge among!
Wo be to that Sheepherd, I saie,
That will not watch his flocke alwaie,
As to his office doth belong!
Wo be to him, that doth not keepe
From Romish Wolves his simple sheepe,
With Staffe and weapon stronge!
“And because that no man should doubt of them, I have set them down here
as they were written by him that made them; whereby it may be produced
that the Britaynes, the first inhabitants of this realme, did abhorre
the Romish doctrine taught at that time.”[338]
Architecture.--The Abbey of Llanthony was built, like those already
described, in the cathedral form--with a nave, lateral aisles,
transepts, and chancel. It measures in length, from the western door to
the great eastern window, two hundred and twelve feet; and the breadth
of the nave, including the side aisles, is fifty feet. The style is a
compound of Norman and Early English, or Gothic, of which the
lancet-pointed windows in the nave are illustrations; while the Norman
character is preserved in the arch between the choir and south transept,
and again in the outer wall of the same transept by a double window. Of
the roof, which was was of stone, nothing remains except a fragment in
the north aisle; the transepts have also crumbled down; but the central
tower, which connected the whole fabric, still presents a massive,
though mutilated, feature of the ancient pile.
The Nave, with its six noble arches, which separates the body of the
church from the north aisle, is the grand and imposing feature of the
scene. To the spectator, who takes his stand at the west door, the
objects present a picture of wild and melancholy grandeur. Before him
rise the monuments of a religious Order, who exercised no small
influence over the destinies of mankind; and, when their own were
fulfilled, left behind them, in the ruins that still adorn the land, the
strongest evidence--with the highest homage that art and science can
offer to religion.
We do not pretend to say that the remains of Llanthony are equal in
architectural beauty to those of many other religious houses in the
kingdom; but as every object of this description depends--for the
_effect_ it may exert over the spectator’s mind--upon the character of
the scenery, and the circumstances under which it is viewed, we may
safely claim for these ruins an effect much beyond what others, though
more lofty, elaborate, and extensive, could ever inspire. The monastic
ruins that, in more favoured districts, attract and command attention,
do not, and cannot, take such hold of the imagination as the
contemplation of this temple of the Desert, where everything seems in
harmony with the thoughts suggested; and where the combined features of
Nature and Art invest the scene with peculiar solemnity.
The nave was separated from the two aisles, north and south, by eight
noble arches, supported by massive pillars on each side. But of these
several have disappeared on the south, and left only their grass-covered
bases to indicate their size and position. Of the great tower, only two
sides remain; and on that facing the nave, may be seen the angular lines
where it was joined by the stone roof to the nave. On a line with the
tower on the right are seen part of the south transept, with its double
Norman window opening into the interior; and at the base, externally, a
lancet-shaped doorway, opening into a side chapel. On the centre of each
pillar, and on a line with the upper tier of windows, or _clerestory_,
are seen the remains of the springing columns, which supported the
groined roof--showing, by the triple-moulded shaft, the base or impost
from which the ribbed arch threw its delicate ramifications along the
stone vault, and connected the walls under a magnificent canopy, adorned
at every intersection of the ribs with carved bosses and rosettes; but
of which scarcely a fragment is left.
The ornamented arch in the eastern window, so long the admiration of
travellers, has mouldered away. But the Norman arch, already noticed,
between the choir and the south aisle, is a bold and characteristic
feature that points very distinctly to the twelfth century. The walls of
the north aisle are wholly dilapidated; but the outside wall of the
south aisle, as observed, is the most entire. Of this the windows are
Norman, lofty and finely proportioned. “The western side is considered
by all connoisseurs to be the most elegant; the northern, the most
entire; the southern, the most picturesque; and the eastern, the most
magnificent.” Taken altogether, the remains of this Abbey present a
_coup d’œil_ that will bear comparison with many of far higher name. It
unites the sublime and the picturesque in a more than ordinary measure,
while the general effect is greatly enhanced by the natural solitude of
the place.
On the south of the remaining transept is a neat Gothic chapel, with an
engroined roof, in tolerable preservation. It measures twenty-two feet
in length, by ten and a half in breadth; and on the south of this chapel
are the remains of an oblong room, supposed to have been the
Chapter-house, or more probably the Vestiary. The other offices--the
Refectory, Hospitium, Dormitory, and Cloisters--may be easily traced by
an experienced antiquary; but, to a common observer, their respective
boundaries are indistinct. In a barn, westward of the ruins, is a fine
arch, supposed to have formed the grand entrance to the Abbey. But now--
Stone after stone the hallowed temple falls,
Fierce lightnings scathe, and torrents sap the walls;
No mantling ivy round the ruin weaves
Its verdant panoply of glittering leaves;
No pious hand, with patriotic care,
Props in its fall the ancient house of Prayer;
But still yon Arch, that braves the winter blast,
Stands the proud chronicler of ages past.
On the architecture of this period, we may here introduce a few
desultory remarks, without entering into any disquisition on the
subject.
The most remarkable works of architecture,[339] as opposed to that of
the feudal strongholds, are the religious edifices erected about this
period, and improved during the three following centuries. These
structures uniting, as in the present instance, sublimity in general
composition with the beauties of variety and form--intricacy of
parts--skilful, or at least fortunate, effects of light and shade--and,
in some instances, with extraordinary mechanical science, are naturally
apt to lead those antiquaries, who are most conversant with them, into
too partial estimates of the times wherein they were founded. They
certainly are accustomed to behold the fairest side of the picture. It
was the favourite and most honourable employment of ecclesiastical
wealth, to erect, to enlarge, to repair cathedral and conventual
churches; and upon these buildings in England, between the Norman
Conquest and the Reformation, an immense capital must have been
expended. And it is pleasing to observe how the seeds of genius, hidden,
as it were, under the frost of that dreary winter, began to bud to the
first sunshine of encouragement.
In the darkest period of the middle ages, especially after the
Scandinavian incursions into France and England, ecclesiastical
architecture, though always far more advanced than any other art,
bespoke the rudeness and poverty of the times. It began towards the
latter end of the eleventh century, when tranquillity, at least as to
former enemies, was restored, and some degree of learning reappeared to
assume a more noble appearance.
The Anglo-Norman cathedrals were, perhaps, as much distinguished above
other works of man in their own age, as the more splendid edifices of a
later period. The science manifested in them, according to the authority
here quoted, is not very great; and their style, though by no means
destitute of lesser beauties, is, upon the whole, an awkward imitation
of Roman architecture, or, perhaps, more immediately of the Saracenic
buildings of Spain, and those of the lower Greek Empire.[340] But about
the middle of the twelfth century, when Llanthony, Tinterne, and so many
remarkable edifices sprang up, this manner began to give place to what
is improperly denominated the Gothic architecture. We are not concerned
at present to inquire whether this style originated in France or
Germany, Italy or England, since it was almost simultaneous in all these
countries; nor from what source it was derived--a question of no small
difficulty. I would only venture to remark, that whatever may be thought
of the pointed arch, for which there is more than one mode of
accounting, we must perceive a very oriental character in the vast
profusion of ornament, especially on the exterior surface, which is as
distinguishing a mark of Gothic buildings as their arches; and
contributes, in an eminent degree, both to their beauties and their
defects. This, indeed, is rather applicable to the later than the
earlier stage of architecture; and rather to Continental than English
churches. The Cathedral at Amiens is in a far more florid style than its
contemporary at Salisbury. The Gothic species of architecture is thought
by some to have reached its perfection--considered as an object of
taste--by the middle of the fourteenth century; or at least to have lost
something of its excellence by the corresponding part of the next
age--an effect of its early and rapid cultivation; since arts appear to
have, like individuals, their natural progress and decay. Yet this
seems, if true at all, only applicable to England; since the Cathedrals
of Cologne and Milan--perhaps the most distinguished monuments of this
architecture--are both of the fifteenth century. The mechanical
execution, at least, continued to improve; and is so far beyond the
apparent intellectual powers of those times, that some have ascribed the
principal ecclesiastical structures to the fraternity of
Freemasons--depositaries of a concealed and traditionary science. There
is probably some ground for this opinion; and the earlier archives of
that mysterious association, if they existed, might illustrate the
progress of Gothic architecture, and perhaps reveal its origin. The
remarkable change in this new style, that was almost contemporaneous in
every part of Europe, cannot be explained by any local circumstances, or
the capricious taste of a single nation.[341]
“The Normans,” says “William of Malmesbury, “live in large edifices with
economy. They _revived_ by their arrival the observances of religion,
which were everywhere grown lifeless in England. You might now see
churches rise up in every village, and monasteries in the towns and
cities--all built after a style previously _unknown_ in this country.”
It was soon after the renovation and introduction here mentioned, that
the Abbey of Llanthony--though one of the smallest and least known of
its class--sprang up in the desert, as a signal to many others, on a
more extended and noble scale that quickly followed, and stamped their
architectural character upon the age. It was most probably finished
before the middle of the twelfth century--so prolific in ecclesiastical
edifices. The style is of that period--designated as the transition from
late Norman to early English, where the predominant features are
Gothic--characterized by the pointed arch; by pillars which are so
extended as to lose all trace of classical proportions; by shafts which
are placed side by side, often with different thicknesses, and are
variously clustered and combined.[342]
This style is divided into three distinct periods--besides that of
transition between the circular and pointed styles--which lasted
through the greater part of the twelfth century, when the circular and
pointed arches are frequently--as in the nave and south transept before
us--used indiscriminately in the same building. The ornaments, although
generally partaking of the earlier style, begin to be better executed,
and more elaborate; and the general appearance of the building assumes a
lighter character. The first style of Gothic in this country, The Early
English, prevailed through the greater part of the twelfth century; and
of this style the subject in question is one of the numerous examples
that followed its introduction in every part of the kingdom. Among these
the variations, in all save dimensions, are so slight and unimportant,
that the description of almost any one monastic structure of that
century applies to every other of the same style and period. We possess
in the ruins of Llanthony a pure example of this style, unchanged by any
subsequent additions or alterations; for as the Abbey became reduced
both in numbers and revenues, immediately after the establishment of the
Abbey at Gloucester, it shared in none of the changes introduced by the
decorated style; but has continued to the present day what it was in the
middle of the twelfth century. To account for the splendour of
conventual churches in general, we have only to remember that personal
expense or secular indulgence were highly culpable in a monk; and that
whatever was expended in ornamenting the Church was glorifying GOD.
* * * * *
William of Llanthony--the warrior monk already noticed--appears to have
had followers in his penance; for Peter Damian mentions a man who wore
an _iron_ corslet next his skin, had iron rings around his limbs, so
that he performed with pain and difficulty his _Metaneas_, or
penitential inclinations, and very often dashed his hands upon the
pavement. In “Strutt’s Dresses” is a female pilgrim lying on the ground,
apparently to perform this penance of slapping the ground. The lady of
Sir Thomas More, in reply to her husband, who counselled her to desist
from scolding her servants during Lent, replied that she wore a “Monk’s
girdle,” and therefore had nothing to fear.[343] The virtues of the
monk’s girdle, it appears, were equivalent to those of the _cowl_,
already alluded to in our notice of Tinterne.
The revenues possessed by Llanthony appear to have been very
considerable at the outset; but through negligence or mismanagement--or
rather by the prejudicial influence of a rival abbey--they fell off
gradually, and at the dissolution were valued at a sum[344]
considerably less than those of Tinterne Abbey.
When we read, in the Monastic Annals, of entire districts, towns, and
villages being conveyed to monasteries, we are surprised at the
boundless liberality of the founders. But when we reflect that, at the
time of these princely endowments, the land, in many instances, was
neither cultivated nor peopled, the question of prodigal generosity is
materially altered. At the period of transition, as it may be termed,
when it passed from the hands of the feudal Baron to the Abbot or Prior,
the products of the consecrated territory were often nothing more than
wood and pasture; nor, until it had been long subjected to the system of
agriculture, so generally practised and taught by the monks, was it
brought into a state fit for the sustenance of man. If we compare--so
far as written documents enable us--the state of agriculture and its
population, when these lands were transferred to the Abbot, with the
condition they were in when taken from him, we shall see very clearly to
what a vast amount they had improved under monastic management; and how
much cause there was to applaud the stewardship of the venerable monks,
in whose hands the physical aspect of the country underwent an entire
change. Theirs were truly the arts of peace. Obliged, by the rule of
their order, to plant their convents in sterile and uncultivated wilds,
where intercourse with more favoured districts was neither easy nor
expedient, circumstances required that they should, like the apostles
and fathers of old, depend for daily bread on the labour of their hands.
While some went to prayer, others went to work; and thus the blessing of
heaven and the bounty of earth were believed to descend upon them, and
abide with them, in those sacred habitations which had sprung up under
their hands, and exercised on everything around them a mild and
harmonizing influence.
This spirit of improvement, however, varied according to the different
Orders of which the great monastic brotherhood was composed. To those
who--in imitation of the Baptist--desired to limit their physical wants
to a diet of “locusts and wild honey,” or to whatever the unaided hand
of Nature might place within their reach, were content to consume their
days in fasting and prayer. And observing--as he probably did--that
whenever wealth and luxury had increased in religious houses, strict
discipline had as certainly relaxed, the Monk of Llanthony appears to
have preferred the desert to any of those “seductive landscapes” into
which it might have been, in some degree, converted by means of industry
and manual labour. He had also before his eyes the baneful effects
produced by the luxurious indulgences of New Llanthony upon the minds of
the absent brothers, whose piety, that had preserved its fervour amongst
rocks and glens, became vapid and lukewarm when transplanted to the rich
landscapes of the Severn. Where riches abounded, “pride and license did
much more abound.” It was better to continue a poor but pious friar on
the banks of the Honddy, than become a luxurious wine-bibbing canon in
the Vale of Gloucester.
The space, therefore, in which the most distant resemblance to ancient
cultivation can be traced is comparatively small. It was, perhaps, under
a strong conviction of great piety and great property being in their
very nature antagonistic, that the “Province of Berkeley,” which the
King had offered to the Canons of Llanthony, was so firmly declined. The
vineyards, which it is understood were then common on the banks of the
Severn, were not likely to fortify the mind against temptation, or
reconcile the brotherhood to the abstinence and austerities of
conventual life. But when he speaks of the tract as a “province,” we can
easily imagine that, fertile as the native soil undoubtedly was, only a
small portion of it was under cultivation; so that the annual revenue
bore an exceedingly small proportion to its extent in acres. And so it
was with the almost innumerable tracts of Church lands in every part of
the kingdom; for until they were brought into cultivation and crop,
their value was merely nominal. And how much is due to the skill and
perseverance of the monks in the encouragement of agriculture? There is
scarcely a hill or valley in the kingdom, from which their judicious
exercise of plough, and spade, and mattock, did not produce its annual
return in the necessaries of life. And hence the revenues, that in the
course of years and centuries flowed in upon them, were the legitimate
result of a liberal and vigilant economy. We are too apt to forget,
whilst reckoning up the vast territories bequeathed from age to age to
the church by penitent benefactors, that these same tracts were, in many
instances, of little or no current value to their original owners; and
that it was only by passing them into more skilful and industrious
hands, that they became actually appreciable, as corn lands, orchards,
and vineyards.
The Canons of Llanthony, in their local position, had neither the
advantages of a fertile soil, nor the acquired habits, nor obligations
of Rule, which rendered its cultivation imperative. Their revenues were
drawn from a distance--some from remote parts in Ireland. But in their
immediate neighbourhood, the monks had a brook and enclosed ponds that
produced fish; forests that bred herds of deer, hares, and wild fowl;
while patches of garden, orchard, and rye-field, supplied their table
with that allowance of fruits and vegetables, herbs and roots, and
coarse bread, which formed the daily items of their scanty fare. But
when a stranger of note or a noble pilgrim arrived at the gate, the
Prior’s table assumed the appearance of more than frugal hospitality;
and all that forest or river could furnish for the entertainment of the
honoured guest was liberally supplied.[345] As an established
Sanctuary--from which even the greatest offenders were not excluded--we
have already noticed the shame and desecration inflicted upon Llanthony
by a powerful native, who in the hour of despair had fled to its gate
for shelter. To this disastrous visit no opposition could be offered.
The sanctuary of St. John was alike available to all--to the guilty as
well as to the innocent. And if it was too frequently a refuge for those
who had set all laws at defiance, it was happily still more so to the
sick and the friendless; to the helpless victim of oppression, who from
the horns of the altar appealed to heaven for redress; and to the
penitent, who could find no escape from the snares of evil associates,
but in the confessional and the cloister. It had been a difficult task,
in such circumstances, to discriminate between the claims of those who,
in their distress, flew to the sanctuary--between great criminals and
true penitents; and therefore it was better the gate should be open
alike to all, than that one sincere penitent should be driven back into
a world which, in the bitter hours of remorse, he had resolved to
abandon. In such institutions there was a gentle union of wisdom and
mercy, which the refinement of later times has done much to loosen, and
little to perpetuate.
[Illustration: The Abbey Church from the East.]
Of Llanthony, as it _now_ appears, the following sketch is from the pen
of a recent visitor; and the contrast is picturesque and striking:--
“At the western end of the Nave rise two towers--one of them, with
modernized doors and windows, is inhabited. An open arcade extends in
front of part of the adjoining cloister, and advancing through the open
door it shaded, we found ourselves in a long vaulted half-parlour
half-kitchen, with old arms suspended above the fire-place; sides of
bacon nobly flanking the whitewashed walls; old chairs and cabinets, and
various minor articles of furniture, all arranged with a neatness which
betokened that the presiding genius of the place was feminine. Just as
we had come to this conclusion, forth stepped from an inner recess the
gentle tenant of the abode of the ancient monks, with a quiet simplicity
of manner which went to the heart of a weary pilgrim, and made him feel
instantly as if at home, and welcome. A little repose, and a cup of tea
beside a blazing hearth--for even in summer the air is shrewd among
these hills at evening--entirely refreshed us; and just as the sun was
going down in the west, we sallied forth to see the ruins. Albeit the
hospitality in early times was here dispensed by shaven monks, and now
by maidens fair, there is a singular charm felt by all who visit
Llanthony, in this quiet living within the precincts of the Abbey, which
interests the imagination, and helps to blend agreeably the past and
present.
“With this half-dreamy feeling I went forth, and ascended a slight
eminence to the westward, whence the whole pile extended at length its
ruined towers and arches, half-buried in trees, and overhung with the
lofty hills which shut in the vale, and opened no view to the distant
world beyond. These hills were cultivated half-way up their sides; a few
farms, each sending up its column of smoke, appeared at intervals, with
paths leading up into the wild heath that clothed the summits. The
evening sun cast a broad red light upon the west front and towers of the
pile, and half gilded the remaining portion. I thought I had never
beheld, even among the secluded abbeys of the Yorkshire dales, anything
more romantically serene. It was getting dusk ere I could tear myself
from the spot. The moon was that evening at the full; and it gave me the
opportunity of rambling among the ruins, before I repaired to my
dormitory in the abbey tower, which I ascended by a narrow flight of
stone steps. One might, in idea, have gone back to the olden time, and
fancied oneself a pilgrim in very earnest, receiving hospitality from
the ancient tenants of the place, had it not been for the dainty
whiteness of the bed, which occupied a story of the old tower--far
different, I trow, from the rude pallets of these romantic but
uncomfortable ages.”[346]
[Illustration: _Llanthony Abbey._]
Sir R. Colt Hoare says, that when his friend Mr. Wyndham made the tour
of Wales, in the year 1777, the Eastern front of the abbey was standing,
but has since fallen; and its design is now only preserved by the view
engraven of it in his book. When he accompanied Mr. Coxe, in the year
1800, to make drawings for his historical tour through Monmouthshire,
the western front still retained its superior elegance: in the year
1801, one of the fine windows gave way; and two years later he was a
mournful eye-witness, not only to the total downfall of the three
windows which composed the principal ornament of the front, but of some
modern architectural innovations, highly injurious to the picturesque
appearance of this venerable structure. It is a melancholy reflection to
the traveller, who repeats, at certain intervals, his visits to the many
interesting spots selected by our ancestors, either for military or
religious establishments, that at each visit he will, most probably,
find them progressively verging to decay. But Llanthony, even amidst its
ruins, still supplies the artist with many fine subjects for his pencil,
and furnishes ample matter of inquiry and investigation to the architect
and antiquarian. From certain data we have of its first construction,
about the year 1108, and subsequent desertion in 1136, we are enabled to
ascertain the style of architecture then adopted in monastic buildings,
as there can be little doubt but that the ruins we now see are those of
the original abbey.[347]
* * * * *
Summary--[For the following details--slightly altered and abridged--we
are indebted to a recent and popular Description of Llanthony
Priory,[348] by the Rev. George Roberts, M.A., in which the ruins are
traced with archæological taste and accuracy:]--
The west end is flanked by two low square massive Towers. The one on the
south was fitted up by Colonel Wood, a former proprietor, with
apartments for the grousing season, and is covered in with a sloping
roof. The Abbot’s lodging, which joins on to the south side, is also
turned into a dwelling-house for the steward of the estate, where
visitors are obligingly accommodated. The stone staircase is perfect in
the south tower, but broken in the north. The staircases were lighted by
five chinks. Each tower on the outward face is divided into five stages
by bold string-courses; the base is beveled off, and the ground story is
broad and plain. The second and third stages are ornamented,
arcade-fashion, on the side next to the west window, and the arches are
pointed. The central compartment in each successive stage recedes. In
the lowest story, two pointed windows have been disfigured by modern
innovation. In the centre of the second story, a beautiful example of
the round-headed Norman window remains perfect to the depth of the wall;
the dripstone over it is plain in the north tower, but in the south is
terminated by two corbel-heads. The third story is ornamented with a
double long lancet-shaped blank window, of great elegance in design; the
pointed heads spring from triple shafts with plain Norman capitals.
Between these towers, thus ornamented so as to correspond, stood the
great
West Window over the principal entrance, already noticed. Joining on to
the south tower, there is a round-headed deep window, with a broad
trefoiled head, belonging to a plain vaulted chamber called the Prior’s
Lodging. This chamber abuts upon the church, and commences the
conventual buildings. Entering by the west you see the interior of the
whole church. The Nave was separated from the two Aisles on each side by
eight obtusely-pointed arches, supported on massive pillars square
without capitals; the bases ornamented with _ogee_ mouldings. A round
moulding, deeply let in, runs from the base entirely round the arch, to
the base on the opposite side.
The Arches on the north side still stand perfect. On the south four only
remain, and these imperfect--two at each end of the Nave. The central
arches fell in thirteen years ago (1837), on Ash-Wednesday, without any
external notice, and whilst the family were at dinner. Had they fallen a
few minutes sooner, some person must have been killed. The pressure of
the clerestory windows, which on this side were destroyed, as upon the
other, _overweighted_ the arches beneath, and forced them in. The four
others remaining are in a very tottering condition--and would have
fallen, if Mr. Webb, the steward, to whom the building is much indebted
for its preservation, had not built up some rude but well-intentioned
buttresses; which, however much they may disfigure, are essential to the
strengthening of the remains. He also ingeniously hooped with iron two
of the pillars, and by the application of the screw, has managed to
bring them back into their former position.
The Side Aisles are completely down; but the termination of the North
Aisle, with the only specimen of the roof remaining, is to be seen in
the North Tower of the west front. Here there is also a long, deep,
round-headed Norman window, looking to the north. The arch at the end of
the Nave, next to the Tower, springs from a corbel, consisting of three
truncated pillars with capitals. The bit of the roof of the Aisle which
remains is heavily groined, and formed by the intersection of round
arches. The flat wall buttress, on either side of the Tower, has at the
top a square moulding, fluted, from which springs an arch spanning the
Aisle--the only one of the series in existence. This is the most
acutely pointed in the whole building, and gives an idea of the
character of the rest belonging to the Aisles.
The Arches are divided from what seems to have been a triforium [Coxe,
who saw it when perfect, calls it an upper tier of Norman arches], by a
straight plain band. Between each arch is a corbel, formed of _three_
clustered pillars, as before, with plain Norman capitals, and worked off
to a point, where the base should have been, six in number, and from
these, evidently, sprung the vaulted and groined roof.
In the interior, above, nothing remains but a double window, pointed and
elegant, which seems to have formed the lower portion of the deep Norman
recessed arch, through which the passage ran along to the Bell-tower.
This may be clearly traced from the exterior of the building. A low
round-headed plain door connected each aisle with its contiguous
transept. The square
Bell-tower was supported upon four large and noble pointed arches, of
which the west and the south, together with the sides above them, are
standing; although there is reason to fear for the latter, from the
pressure of the superincumbent building, which has shattered and bowed
it out. Only sixty years ago the Bell-tower was thirty-seven feet higher
than at present, viz., sixty-three feet, as taken by an
instrument--whence the entire height was at first exactly a hundred
feet. The ruin now reaches but a short way above the dripstone of the
roof. The west arch springs from a corbel of three stunted pillars,
clustered, and terminating in a flower--the corbel on the opposite
terminating in a square moulding of the ogee description. The gable in
the western arch is pierced by two small plain Norman windows, and has a
third narrow-pointed window in the apex.
The Staircase communicating with the belfry is lighted by a round-headed
window. We may conjecture there were several _bells_ in the
tower--carried off to Gloucester by Prior Roger.[349]
Transepts.--Nothing remains of the North Transept but one side of the
window.--[See the woodcut.]--The South Transept is lighted upon the
south by a double Norman window, the moulding and shaft plain, the
window eighteen feet by three; and above them, in the gable, is a plain
Rose window, of which nothing but the circular rim remains. The effect
of this composition, from its simplicity, is exceedingly imposing. A
bold Norman arch, supported by a plain Norman corbel pillar, with a
cushion capital, communicates on the east, from the transept, with the
Lady Chapel; and one step from the Tower leads into the Choir.
The Roof was supported upon pillars--lofty with Norman capitals. One on
the south is perfect, and the base of the corresponding pillar is to be
seen. The string-course runs over this pillar, and along the wall to the
extremity of the Choir. At the distance of eighteen feet are traces of
steps to the High Altar, flanked on either side by triple pillars,
clustered; the distance from these steps to the east window is also
eighteen feet. A long and exquisitely-proportioned round-headed window
lighted the choir on the north side, and is quite perfect, except that
the masonry above it is gone, leaving the naked rim of the head standing
alone, with an effect at once graceful and melancholy. The space on the
south side points out where the corresponding window stood. A gap shows
the space occupied by the great east window, which was standing in
Wyndham’s time. From his drawing, it appears to have been a fine pointed
window, with tracery in the head, and having two small Norman lights in
the gable above. A few mouldings are still extant, with slender shafts
and Norman capitals in the wall where it was inserted.
As you return from the east, continues the historian of the Abbey, you
are struck with two windows in the Bell-tower on the south side, in the
second story. They consist of a round-headed arch, divided into two
lights by a sturdy _balustre_, standing in the middle of the wall, and
extending from its plinth to its capital, right through the centre to
the top of the arch. Beyond this, in the thickness of the wall, vestiges
of a passage are discovered, which seems to have formed a gallery round
the tower. A round-headed plain Norman door, the jambs being low pillars
with cushion capitals, at the west end of the choir, on the south side,
leads into
The Lady Chapel. The slight remains of the corbels, from which the roof
sprung, are here more elaborate in their work than in any other part of
the building. We had some difficulty in tracing out the foundation.
The Chapter-house[350] was built in contiguity to the south side of the
south transept. On the north side of it a stable is inserted, which
prevents accurate observation. In a calf-pen or shed, however, we
discovered the corresponding base of the columns to the other
unencumbered side. It seems to have been a spacious and elegant room, of
an oblong form, lighted at the east and at the south, where there is a
deep recess, and traces sufficient to warrant the surmise that there
were three Norman windows on that side. The south wall is ornamented and
divided into four compartments by clusters of triple pillars, upon which
the roof rested. The east end narrows in, and the entrance is from the
west. On the south of the church, between the transept and the
Chapter-house, is an
Oratory--the chapel already named--with an engroined roof in complete
preservation. The central arch springs from a Norman corbel on each
side, and two other arches form the angles of the building in the same
manner. By their intersection the roof is formed. A deep Norman window
is fixed in the east wall. The sides of the door consist of two pillars,
capitals with flowers, and bases, ogee-shaped. South again of the
chapter, a large space for a doorway--the side pillars of which are
partly standing--opens into
The Refectory, of which the slight traces still in existence, defy
anything like accuracy of detail. A rude window, chimney, and vaults,
broken in and filled with rubbish, show where the offices and kitchen
lay. Beyond these is a splendid Sewer, which has been mistaken by the
common people to be the commencement of a subterraneous passage leading
to “Oldham Castle,” under the mountains.
The Vivarium, or Fish-pond, is east of the church, and a mountain rill
still runs through it. The whole of the conventual buildings, together
with a close, amounting to seven acres, were surrounded by a wall. At
some little distance south-west from the church, and divided from it by
what is now a long meadow, stand
The Hospitium and Porter’s Lodge--the first of which is a barn, and has
been enlarged for that purpose. A fine pointed arch, already alluded to,
under which was the entrance gateway, still remains. The pillars upon
which it rests are immensely strong--the capitals Norman and rudely
carved. Above this were apartments lighted by two round-headed windows
in the north gable; and in the south gable, by two windows with trefoil
cusps, and one round-headed. An old fireplace above is also visible. The
arches on the other side are blocked up with solid masonry. The Porter’s
window is pointed, and looks to the west. In the “bay” of the barn, and
on a level with the ground, on the west side, is a window deeply set in
the wall, pointed; and in a line with it, a square open space, like the
top of a buttery-hatch, with a large flat stone below, whence probably
the dole[351] was distributed.
* * * * *
RULES of St. Augustin.--Of these, the rules of Llanthony--which the
reader will find printed at full in the history of the Order[352]--a few
extracts may here suffice.
A. By the first rule, or condition, every candidate for admission into
the Order was called upon to relinquish all property. He was to enter on
a term of probation by the Prior. No Canon, on taking leave of the Order
from necessity, was permitted to take any property away with him. If
anything were offered him as a present, he was not at liberty to accept
it, until he had obtained leave from the Prior. This rule was to apply
equally to all, from the Superior downwards. Punishment was to be
denounced for contumacy, and offences to be declared to the Præpositus,
before whom all disagreements were to be laid for consideration and
adjustment. All property detained as above-mentioned, through necessity,
was to be handed over to the Superior.
B. They were carefully to remember what psalms were appointed to be sung
at the stated hours, and nightly readings after Vespers. Manual labour
was to continue from morning until Sext; and from Sext till Nones was to
be employed in reading. After refection, work was to be resumed till
Vespers. In all matters of business connected with the convent, two
monks were to act in concert; but none were permitted to eat or drink
out of the house. Brothers sent to dispose of goods in public, for the
benefit of the convent, were to be cautious of doing anything against
the Rule. Idle talk, or gossiping, was strictly forbidden; and they were
enjoined to proceed with their work in silence.
C. The union, or brotherhood, was to subsist in one house. Food and
raiment were to be distributed by the Superior, and everything was to be
held and enjoyed in common. Due consideration was to be observed towards
infirmity; but no allowance to be made for pride on account of
difference of birth. Concord was indispensable; and in attending divine
service at the appointed hours, they were to observe the strictest
punctuality. They were not to make use of the church for any other
service than that to which it was consecrated, unless when, out of the
proper hours, they found leisure and inclination for private prayer.
While chanting the psalmody, they were to revolve and write the
sentiment in their hearts. Nothing was to be sung but what was duly
appointed. They were bound to mortify the flesh by frequent abstinence
and fasting; and those who did not fast, were to take nothing after the
usual time of dining, unless when sick. The scriptures were to be read
during meals in the Refectory. To the sick a better kind of food was
allowed; but not to make the others discontented. Brothers of delicate
habit, or infirm health, were to have diet and clothes suitable to their
condition; and such indulgence was not to excite envy or disgust in
others. The sick were to be treated with all the care which their cases
required; and as soon as they recovered their wonted health, they were
to return to the fixed rule and habit of the house.
D. The Habit of the Order was to be sober, not conspicuous. When they
went abroad, they were to walk two together, and so remain at the
journey’s end. In gait, look, habit, or gesture, everything that could
be termed indecent or offensive, was to be regarded as criminal. They
were not to fix their eyes upon women; and when two were in church in
the presence of women, they were mutually to support each other, in
observing a serious and modest decorum--“invicem vestram pudicitiam
custodite. Deus enim qui habitat in vobis, etiam isto modo custodiet vos
a vobis....” All such offences or misdemeanours were to be punished by
the Superior. The clandestine receipt of letters or presents was a
punishable offence. Their clothes were to be taken from one common
Vestiary, and their food from one Larder. All vestments presented by
relatives were to be stored in the common Vestiary. All labour was to be
considered as done for the common good. He who stole, and he who
concealed his knowledge of a theft, were to be punished with equal
severity.
E. Their clothes, and the linen of the house, according to the order of
the Superior, were to be washed either by themselves or by fullers. In
cases of illness, ablutions were to be used according to the physician’s
advice; or, on refusal, by order of the Superior. They were to go to the
baths only by two or three, and were then to be accompanied by a person
duly appointed by the Superior. The sick were to have an Infirmarer; and
cellarers, chamberlains, or librarians, were to serve the brethren with
cheerfulness and good-will. Books could not be obtained for perusal but
at the stated hours. Clothes and shoes were to be given out when needed.
No litigations or quarrels were permitted. If a difference arose, it was
to be instantly adjusted or put to silence by the authorities. For all
offences, satisfaction--for all wrongs, retribution--was to be given;
and the offended were commanded to practise, in all cases, the sacred
duty of forgiveness towards the offender.
F. Harsh or uncharitable expressions were to be carefully avoided; and
if hastily uttered, they were to be followed by an immediate apology.
Obedience to the Superior was strictly enjoined; but if, in the exercise
of his duty, he spoke harshly to any one, he was not to be called upon
for any apology. They were to yield cheerful obedience to the head over
them; but chiefly to the Priest, or Presbyter, on whom devolved the care
of the whole house. If, in any emergency, the Superior found his
authority unequal to the occasion, he was to have recourse to that of
the Priest, or Elder. The Superior was bound to exercise his authority
in the spirit of Christian charity and meekness, yet with firmness and
impartiality. To be practically strict in discipline; but so to demean
himself towards the brethren, as rather to win their love by kindness
than excite their fear by severity; to set before their eyes an example
of godly life; to excite imitation, and conciliate affection.[353]
The Rule of St. Augustin, it has been observed, is more courteous than
that of St. Benedict; for among the Canons-Regular, every brother is
well shod, well clothed, and well fed; they go out when they like, mix
with the world, and converse at table. The Rule of St. Augustin was
followed by the Dominicans; but with severe additions in food, fasts,
bedding, garments, and utter dereliction of property.--See and compare
the Cistercian Rule, as given in the foregoing article on Tinterne
Abbey.
* * * * *
[Illustration: F]OUNDER.--Hugh de Laci was an adventurer in the suite of
William the Conqueror; and, like most of his Norman followers and
compatriots, received in compensation of services, or in testimony of
the royal favour, certain grants of land from which the ancient Saxon
nobility had been expelled. All that we learn of his subsequent career
is, that he founded the Priory of Llanthony in the manner already
described, spent his days in strict religious seclusion, and departed
this life in the odour of sanctity--but without issue. His possessions,
therefore, were divided between his two surviving sisters, Ermeline and
Emma--the former of whom died without heirs; and the latter, married to
a gentleman, whose name has not descended to posterity, had by her
husband a son named Gilbert de Laci. The latter, by his marriage with a
lady unknown to the chronicler, had two sons, Hugh and Walter de Laci.
Hugh died without issue, and Walter espoused Margery, daughter of
Matilda de S. Walerick, wife of William de Brewes. To this family were
born several sons and daughters; all of whom died without heirs, except
Gilbert de Laci, who took to wife the Lady Isabella, one of the five
daughters of the great warrior William, Earl Marshall, of whose family
history and exploits some account has been given in our notice of
Tinterne Abbey.
Margery, daughter of the above-named Gilbert and Isabella de Laci, was
married to John de Verdon; and at the death of her father, who left no
male issue, she became joint heiress with her sister Matilda, the wife
of Galfrid de Genevile.
From Walter de Laci, the right of all his inheritance descended to a
certain Gilbert de Laci, as his son and heir; and from the said Gilbert,
in default of male issue, it descended to his two sisters Margery and
Matilda aforesaid, co-heiresses; between whom the family property left
by their father was equally divided. The above-named Margery, as we have
said, married John _de Verdon_; and to Nicholas, her son by this
marriage, descended all the property she inherited from her father. From
Nicholas, who died without legitimate issue, the family estates passed
to his adopted brother Theobald, as his brother and heir. From
Theobald, in like manner, they descended to John; from whom, having no
heirs, they descended to William, who also dying childless, they
descended to Johanna, Elizabeth, Margery, Isabella, and Catherine,
daughters and coheiresses of the above-named Theobald de Verdon. Of
these, Catherine dying unmarried, her share of the property fell in
equal proportions to her sisters; the eldest of whom wedded Thomas de
Furnivall: Elizabeth, the second daughter, married Bartholomew de
Burghersh; Margery, the third daughter, William Blount; and Isabella
took to husband Henry de Ferrers--names well known in history.
* * * * *
Baldwin, the Bishop above named, was a native of Exeter, where he
received, what was considered in those days, a liberal education; and in
the early part of his life discharged the functions of a grammar-school
in that city. After taking holy orders he was made Archdeacon of Exeter;
but soon quitting the duties of that office, he took the habit of the
Cistercian Order in the Monastery of Ford, in Devonshire, of which, in a
few years afterwards, he was elected Abbot. He was next promoted to the
episcopal dignity, and on the 10th of August, 1180, consecrated Bishop
of Worcester. On the death of Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, four
years later, he was translated to that see--though not without
difficulty, from his being the first of the Cistercian Order in England
who had ever been promoted to the archiepiscopal dignity. He was
enthroned at Canterbury, May the 19th, 1185, and the same day received
the bull from Pope Lucius III., whose successor, Urban III., appointed
him to the office of Legate for the diocese of Canterbury. Soon after
his installation, he began to build a church and monastery at
Hackington, near Canterbury, in honour of “St. Thomas à Becket,” for the
reception of secular priests; but, being violently opposed by the monks
of Canterbury supported by the Pope’s authority, he was compelled to
abandon his undertaking.
On the third of September, 1190, he solemnly performed the ceremony of
crowning King Richard the First--Cœur-de-Lion--in the palace of
Westminster. The same year, the King having given the see of York to his
natural brother, Geoffrey, Bishop of Lincoln, Baldwin took occasion to
assert the pre-eminence of the see of Canterbury, forbidding the Bishops
to receive consecration from any other than the Archbishop himself.
The next year, designing to follow King Richard into the Holy Land, he
made the “Itinerarium” into Wales already alluded to; visited the Abbey
of Llanthony, which he described in the words already quoted; said mass
pontifically in all the cathedral churches, and persuaded many of the
Welsh to quit their homes and take part in the crusade. After completing
this progress, he returned to Canterbury; and then, embarking at Dover
with the Bishop of Salisbury, sailed for the Holy Land, where he joined
the King’s army in Syria. Shortly after his arrival, however, he was
seized with a mortal distemper, and died at the siege of Acre, or
Ptolemais, where he was buried with all the solemnity due to a great
luminary of the church.[354]
Descent.--At the period of the dissolution of monasteries, Llanthony
Abbey was given to Richard, or Nicholas Arnold; then sold to Auditor
Harley, and remained in the Oxford family, until sold again to Colonel
(afterwards Sir Mark) Wood, of Persefield, near Chepstow; from whom it
passed to the present owner, WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, Esq.
Arms of Llanthony Abbey: “Party per pale azure and purpure on chevron
argent, between three oak-branches argent, three marigolds
proper.”--_Dugdale._
* * * * *
We now close the subject of Llanthony with the late Mr. Southey’s
INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT IN THE VALE OF EWIAS.
Here was it, Stranger, that the Patron Saint
Of Cambria passed his age of penitence,
A solitary man; and here he made
His Hermitage; the roots his food, his drink
Of Honddy’s mountain stream.
Perchance thy youth
Has read with eager wonder, how the Knight
Of Wales, in Ormandine’s enchanted bower,
Slept the long sleep; and if that in thy veins
Flows the pure blood of Britain, sure that blood
Has flowed with quicker impulse at the tale
Of Dafydd’s deeds, when through the press of war
His gallant comrades followed his green crest
To conquests!
Stranger! Hatterill’s mountain heights,
And this fair vale of Ewias, and the stream
Of Honddy, to thine after-thoughts will rise
More grateful--thus associate with the name
Of Dafydd, and the deeds of other days.
AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to in the preceding article on
Llanthony Abbey:--Dugdale’s Monasticon and Baronage, and their
Commentaries--Tanner’s Notitia Monastica--Spelman’s Glossar.
Archæologicum--Hist. of the Reformation--Histories of Monmouth, by
Hoare, Coxe, and others--Giraldus Cambrensis--Howel’s
Hystorie--Hallam’s Middle Ages--Camden’s
Britannia--Speed--Hollinshed--Robert of Glo’ster--Roberts’ History
of Llanthony Abbey--Thomas’ History of Owen
Glendower--Collins--Notes by Correspondents, etc.
[Illustration: _Usk Castle & Town._]
USKE CASTLE,
Monmouthshire.
HERE still the feudal bulwark frowns,
With many a tale of siege and sally;
And there the mouldering Abbey crowns
The silent and secluded valley.
And still, when Twilight spreads her wings,
By Abbey wall or Castle hoary,
The pilgrim hears harmonious strings
Struck to the theme of Cambria’s glory.
Again--from yonder halls of state,
Where now the hermit-owl is dwelling--
In song, assembled Bards relate
The daring deeds of bold Llewellyn.
Again from yonder Abbey choir--
Its dim religious lights revealing--
The lofty strains of David’s lyre
From arch and pillared aisles are pealing.
But no! the morning’s ruddy beam--
The breath of day--is on the river;
And all that peopled Fancy’s dream
Is scattered in its light for ever.
[Illustration: T]HE CASTLE of Uske occupies a commanding position--an
abrupt rocky eminence which overlooks the town, river, and valley, which
were once the property of its feudal lords. It is a domestic fortress of
great antiquity, and with the advantages of its natural site,
strengthened and improved by all the appliances of military art--art as
it was practised in the days of chivalry--these mouldering walls, though
now stripped of all their massive proportions, must have presented a
bold and almost impregnable aspect. The lapse of centuries, however, has
materially changed its appearance; and the Castle that once entertained
the redoubtable Strongbow and his companions, is now little more than a
mass of ruins--the chief recommendation of which is its picturesque
character as a prominent feature in the landscape.
The ruins consist merely of a shell, enclosing an area or court, and
some outworks on the west, formed by two straight walls converging one
to the other, and strengthened at their union by a round tower, as
represented in the accompanying woodcut. At the extremity of the south
wall is a grand pointed gateway, with grooves for a portcullis, which
was the principal entrance. The upper part has been converted into a
farm-house with considerable additions.
[Illustration: Tower in Uske Castle.]
Like other castles of its style and period, it consists of straight
walls, fortified with round and square towers, and no apertures
externally but loopholes or œillets, except where these have been
enlarged for modern use and convenience. Several of the apartments have
chimneys--a comparatively modern refinement. The baronial hall measures
forty-eight by twenty-four feet; far inferior in dimensions to some of
the halls already described, but still a noble apartment, and dignified
from its association with Strongbow and his knights, whose occasional
rendezvous was within these walls.
At the time of the Roman occupation, this county formed part of the
Silurian territory, which included also the counties of Glamorgan,
Brecknock, Radnor, and Hereford; and in order to secure the conquest of
this part of the country, the new masters were compelled to form a range
of strongly fortified posts. No less than five stations were erected in
that part of Siluria included in Gwentland, as at Caerwent, Caerleon,
Abergavenny, Monmouth, and Uske. In the attempts of the Saxon monarchs
to subjugate Wales, the Gwentians, or inhabitants of Monmouthshire,
opposed the most formidable resistance; nor does it appear that they
were ever vanquished during the Saxon period. The Conqueror, however,
adopted a new and more effective mode of curbing their resistance. He
directed his barons to make incursions at their own expense, and gave
them leave to hold the lands they conquered _in capite_ of the crown.
These feudal tenures became petty royalties; the barons became despots,
and, intrenched in their fortified castles, assumed independent
sovereignty, until these baronial governments were abolished by Henry
VIII., who divided Wales into counties.
The river Uske takes its rise from a lake on the northern side of the
Bannau-Sir-Gaer, in Carmarthenshire, and after running first north and
then east as far as Brecknock, is joined by the Honddi, which, as
already described, waters the monastic vale of Ewias. It then flows
south-east as far as Abergavenny, and in this part of its course is
joined by the Grwyneu-fawr, and about three miles below this it enters
Monmouth. The extent of its course is about sixty miles, every portion
of which is distinguished more or less by scenes of pastoral and
picturesque beauty--enhanced by vestiges of ancient encampments,
religious edifices, and feudal strongholds. The river is spanned at Uske
by a stately bridge of five arches.
The annexed woodcut, with which we close this brief notice, represents a
chamber in the Castle, with an arched window and a fireplace,
comparatively modern. Chimneys do not seem to have been introduced much
before the time of Henry the Eighth, as appears from the following
extract from Leland’s Itinerary:--“One thynge I much notyed in the haule
of Bolton,” built temp. Rich. II., “how chimneys were conveyed by
tunnels made in the syds of the wauls, betwyxt the lights in the haule;
and by this means, and by no others, is the smoke of the harthe in the
haule wonder strangely carrayed.”[355] Previously to this period, the
smoke was suffered to escape from the louvre, or lantern-turret in the
roof, in large halls and kitchens, the fire being made of logs of wood
laid on iron or brass dogs, in the centre of the room. But in the
smaller rooms, like that in the woodcut, fireplaces were built, the
arches or chimney-pieces of which often remain; but the chimney itself
was carried up only a few feet, where an aperture was left in the wall
for the smoke to escape,[356] and there was frequently a window over the
fireplace, as in the hall at Raglan.[357]
Uske is supposed to occupy the site of the Roman _Burrium_--the
_Bullæum_ of Ptolemy; it stands on a point of land formed by the
confluence of the two rivers, Uske and Olway, and the situation is
considered to be one of the most beautiful in South Wales. The
successive ranges of woods and hills on each side of the river are
richly varied and picturesque; while every year adds something to the
natural embellishment of the scene, by the distribution of fruit and
forest trees--for which the soil is naturally adapted--and that growing
taste for agriculture and rural improvement which is everywhere
conspicuous in the county of Monmouth. The boundaries and outlines of
the valley--which is everywhere pleasing--perpetually vary as the points
of view are changed; so that every change in his position opens to the
spectator a new combination of features which pass before him like a
moving panorama--
“Ever changing, ever new.”
[Illustration: A Chamber in the Castle.]
Uske has a melancholy pre-eminence among the strongholds of this county,
as a point at which the fury of intestine war was often lighted into
flames. During the long and disastrous warfare with Owen Glendower, it
was subjected to every species of hardship and oppression. From the
battle of Uske, when the Cambrian chief was defeated and driven into the
mountains, it remained in possession of the royal troops; but while it
suffered the fate of a vanquished post, it derived little support from
the victors; for whatever standard floated from its walls, it was only
the signal of systematic oppression. From the military chronicle of
those unhappy times, we take the following particulars of the
Battle of Uske. This was the last effort on the part of Owen Glendower
to drive the English from the frontier. Having assembled an army of
eight thousand men enthusiastically attached to him, he prosecuted his
march through scenes of fire and bloodshed--desolating the country,
ravaging the Marches, and practising every cruelty which the spirit of
revenge could suggest. Grosmont[358]--or more probably Uske--was given
to the flames. This marauding division was opposed by a handful of men
commanded by Sir Gilbert Talbot--joined by Sir William Newport and Sir
John Geindre--on the 11th of March, and cut to pieces, no quarter being
given except to one person, whom young Henry, in his despatch to his
father, styles ‘un grand chieftyn entre eulx;’ and humanely adds, that
“he would have sent him this prisoner, but that he could not ride with
ease.” Prince Henry at the time of this action was at Hereford--at the
head of the army, with which he was to open the campaign--when the news
of the victory reached him. The ancient Britons, who lost a thousand men
in this battle, appear to have fought with less than their accustomed
valour. They were probably raw recruits, without good officers or strict
discipline; and without Glendower’s presence to direct and animate them
in the charge, they appear to have fallen an easy prey to the enemy. The
interception of young March, and this defeat, hastened the fall of
Glendower; but, resolved to make a strong effort to retrieve his lost
credit in the field, he sent one of his sons with another army, which,
on being joined by many fugitives from the late disaster, was found
sufficiently strong to risk another engagement. This took place on the
15th of the same month; but the results were still more disastrous than
on the previous battle; for of the Welsh army fifteen hundred were slain
or taken prisoners. Tudor, the brother of Owen, was left dead on the
field; while his son, who had the chief command, was made prisoner, and
retained as a hostage in the English camp. The historian relates that so
great was the personal resemblance between Owen and his brother Tudor,
that when the dead body of the latter was discovered in the field, it
was immediately reported that Glendower himself had fallen, and that,
with the death of their leader, the Welsh must necessarily abandon the
contest. On closer examination, however, it was found that the
exultation thus spread through the English camp was premature; for
although the resemblance was very striking, it was observed that a wart
over the eye--a mark which distinguished the “great Owen”--was not to be
traced in the present individual, and it was at once admitted that
Tudor, and not Owen, had fallen in the conflict.
Prince Henry, according to Carte,[359] commanded at this battle,
supposed to have taken place near Uske. Wynne also mentions an action
fought on the same day on which the son of Owen was made prisoner; and
the number of those slain and made prisoners, coincides with the above
account of Mr. Pennant, but the scene of action is removed to Uske,
where he says “the Welsh received a sad blow from the Prince of Wales’
men.” In the history of this period there is a confusion which Mr.
Pennant thus clears up:--Hollinshed mentions another defeat sustained by
the Welsh in the month of May, in which Griffith Yonge, Owen’s
chancellor, was made prisoner. But in this, according to Pennant, the
chronicler confounds this battle with the action near Grosmont. If Yonge
was the “grand chieftyn” there made prisoner, which is questionable, he
must have soon escaped from the power of the English, or have been
released, as he is a witness the following year to a pardon granted by
Owen to one Ieuan Goch. Here Mr. Thomas[360] suggests that the two
accounts by Hollinshed and Wynne might be reconciled, by allowing that a
battle was actually fought at Uske, subsequent to that on the 15th of
March. Dates among earlier writers are often uncertain, always
perplexing. But Uske in many parts bears evident marks of Owen’s
desolating system of warfare; a ruinous aspect bespeaks its having been
stormed by an enemy at no remote date; and all these circumstances
deriving weight from local tradition--which corroborates the surmise,
and attributes the havoc to Glendower--Uske may be fairly set down as
the scene of devastation referred to in the text.[361]
Craig-y-Gaeryd, near Uske, is supposed to have been a Roman camp. It
covers the brow of a precipice overhanging the eastern bank of the
river, and is now overgrown with copsewood; but in many places the
intrenchments are thirty feet deep. Within the area are several tumuli
from fifteen to twenty feet high. From the small torrent of Berden, near
this point, some authors have derived the name of Burrium, as being
placed at its confluence with the river Uske.[362]
With regard to these camps and intrenchments, Mr. King, in his
“Monumenta Antiqua,” supposes that most of the strong intrenchments on
the summits of natural hills must be attributed to Britons, although
subsequent conquerors might have occupied them. They are designated,
indiscriminately, Roman camps, Danish forts, or Saxon intrenchments, but
often erroneously. The _Roman_ camps were quadrangular, divided into a
pavilion for the general and chief officers, and another portion for the
tents of the common soldiers. It was fortified with a ditch and parapet,
termed _fossa_ and _vallum_. The Danes did not undergo the labour of
erecting them on the high hills where they are often found, nor run the
risk of being cooped up and starved in them during their invasions; nor
can we suppose them to be their work after they settled here as
conquerors. The great castle of Norwich, built by Canute, and the great
tower at Bury, prove their civilization and skill in architecture.
Neither could these hill-camps be Saxon. During the Heptarchy, they
erected fortresses of stones. Besides, their earth-works were
encampments on plain ground with double ditches, and with either the
whole or part of the area raised above the level of the adjacent
country, and sometimes with a very small mount for a watchguard. The
magnificence of the Norman castles, still splendid in their ruins, will
not allow them to have had any share in throwing up these rude
intrenchments. They must, therefore, have been the strongholds of the
ancient Britons, where their families were lodged, and their cattle
housed, on any emergency or invasion.[363]
The Church, dedicated to St. Mary, is an ancient structure of
Anglo-Norman origin, but apparently curtailed in its dimensions to suit
the diminished population of modern Uske. The square embattled tower
which now stands at the east, formerly occupied the centre, and
communicated with a transept and choir. Four pointed arches now separate
the nave from the north aisle. The windows are ornamented Gothic, or
rather Norman; and the porches, though not elegant, are in the same
style. This was the Priory Church; and of the conventual building, the
remains are seen on the south-east side of the tower. From the
churchyard, a circular arched portal leads through the court to the
ancient edifice now converted into a farm-house. It was founded by one
of the Clare family as a priory for five Benedictine nuns, about the
middle of the thirteenth century. In an apartment on the first floor,
the frieze of the ceiling is ornamented with thirty devices, and
emblazoned coats of arms. At the Dissolution, this priory was valued at
£69. 9s. 8d. per annum; and the site granted to Roger Williams of
Langibby. Rowland Williams of Langibby was distinguished by Queen
Elizabeth and James the First, and received the honour of knighthood.
His grandson, Sir Trevor Williams, was created a baronet in
consideration of his services and loyal attachment to Charles the First.
Founder.--Tanner, quoting from a MS. in the office of First Fruits, says
they accounted Sir Richard de Clare and Sir Gilbert his son, Earls of
the Marches, for their Founders, and prayed for them as such; for which,
at the time of the Dissolution, an allowance appears to have been made
amongst the reprises.
The temporalities of this priory are thus valued in Pope Nicholas’s
Taxation, A.D. 1291:--Priorissa de Uska habet viginti quatuor acras
terræ quæ valent per annum viii.s.: De annuo redditu, vi.s. viii.d., de
Molendino. ibidem x.s., de perquisitis cur. v.s. _Item_, habet apud
Shirencnewt [Shire Newton?] de reddit, assis. iii.s. = Summa £1. 12s.
8d.
Among the spiritualities of the diocese of Llandaff, we find the
following churches, of which the priory and convent of Uske appear to
have been patrons, namely, Raglan, Mykenny, Uske, Langrerion, Lampadock,
and Lamyhangel.
In another place, it is said:--Capitulam Landav. percipit de tenentibus
de Landconyan unam marcam, et illam reddunt luminar. prioratus de Uske.
In the diocese of Worcester, we find, “Porcio priorissæ in capell. de
Hatherlo j.l. The gross value of this priory [26th Hen. VIII.] was rated
at £69. 9s. 8d., the clear income at £55. 4s. 5d. The site and other
lands were granted 28th Hen. VIII. to Roger Williams, grandfather of Sir
Trevor Williams [of whom Cromwell speaks in his letter from Pembroke.]
At the Dissolution, Elen Williams was the lady prioress. In the Lord
Treasurer’s Remembrancer’s office is the following:--“Uske: De Elizea
John ap Jevan vidua, occasionat. ad ostendendum quo titulo tenet domum
et situm Prioratus de Uske, et alias terras in comitatu Monmouth. That
the said widow be called upon to show by what title she holds the house
and site of the Priory of Uske, and other lands in the county of
Monmouth.” Leland describes it briefly as “a priory of Nunnes at Cair
Uske, a flite shot from the castel.”
An impression from the conventual seal of this priory is extant in the
Chapter-house at Westminster, attached to the acknowledgment of
Supremacy. [25 Hen. VIII.] It represents the Virgin Mary seated on an
ornamented chair between two pilasters, the infant Jesus in her lap.
Above are a crescent and star, the legend--S. SĈE MARIE ET CONVENTUS DE
USKE.
* * * * *
The emblematical devices and emblazoned arms already mentioned, as
covering the frieze of the ceiling in the chief apartment, are supposed
to represent the armorial bearings of the various benefactors of the
priory.
Prioresses.--The last Prioress, or Superieure, was the above-named “Elen
Williams.” Among the Gilbertine Nuns there were three prioresses, one of
whom presided in turn, and had then the first stall--one of her
coadjutors standing on the right hand, the other on the left. The
presiding Prioress held the Chapter, enjoined the penances, granted all
the licences or allowances, visited the sick, or caused them to be
visited by one of her companions. She had obedience and respect paid to
her by all. The food was delivered by the Cellaress, but the vestments
of the Nuns were cut, sewed, and divided by the Prioress. She could not
sit near any _man_ in their house, unless some discreet sister sat
between them. The Prioress was to endeavour to visit the Nuns, unless
when she was in the kitchen, or confined to her dortoire by sickness.
If any sister wished to confess, she signified her desire to the
Prioress, if she was in the cloister or church; or she confessed to her,
or to any person authorised to act for her. On holidays she sent some
“learned nun” with a book to her sisters, to teach them somewhat that
might operate to the profit of their souls, or confirm the rigour of the
Order. She presided over the Chapter of the Sisters, and one of her
coadjutors often took their _veniæ_ in the evening Chapter. On festival
days she visited them “if she had time,” and diligently inquired of
their strict observance of the rules of the Order. If she left the
dormitory after dinner, or after complin, she did not go out unless with
attendant nuns. She was obliged to indicate the cause of her departure
to the Prior of all. If she left the church through sickness, she
confessed in the Chapter, and no one stood in her stall except at Mass,
and when necessity required it.--[Brit. Monach.]
She was bound to shun conferring with the _Scrutatrices_, or
sister-visitors, from other houses, that were deputed to her; or to make
search for anything except in the common Chapter. If she was in the
Infirmary, she was required to conduct herself more reservedly; and not
to speak with more than two together, and that only in a “bounded
place,” unless, perhaps, necessity compelled her to talk with more for
the sake of consultation; or when she happened to hold the Chapter of
the Sick. She had authority, upon emergencies, to hold the Chapter of
the Convent, and receive confessions, and if she was confined by severe
illness, she could, like the rest, talk and give her directions in
bed.[364]
Uske enjoys the hereditary distinction of having been the “residence of
Richard, Duke of York, and the birth-place of his two sons, Edward the
Fourth, and Richard the Third;” names which have furnished many stirring
incidents, many sparkling and many disastrous achievements to the
British annals. The town of Uske is disposed in the form of an oblong
square, the principal street forming the public road to Abergavenny. The
corporation consists of a mayor or bailiff, a community, and
burgesses;[365] and in the town-house are held the petty sessions for
the upper division of the hundred of Uske. The only native manufacture
is that of japan ware.
The river is famous for trout, particularly salmon trout--
“So fresh, so sweete, so red, so crimpe withal,”[366]
which, in conventual times, afforded an ample supply to the numerous
religious communities on its banks, to whom a carneous diet was only
permitted as an occasional indulgence. Epicures confirm the ancient
reputation of the river in this respect; and during the season, the
disciples of Isaak Walton, and the readers of Sir Humphrey Davy’s
“Salmonia,” are constant visitors to the banks of the Uske, which, by
way of climax, is said to produce better sport for the angler than any
other river in Wales--or even the Severn--a quality which has become
proverbial.
“Though bright the waters of the Towy,
The Wye, the Severn, and the Tivy;
Yet, well I wot, they cannot shew ye
Such _salmon_ as the Uske can give ye!
It was--(we choose not to go farther)--
The favoured dish of bold King Arthur;
Who, when he chose like king to dine,
Went down to Uske with rod and line,
And there drew slily to the bank
Such trout as best became his rank;
Sometimes by twains, at others singly,
But always with a twitch so kingly,
The salmon seemed as much delighted,
As if they really had been ‘knighted!’
No wonder, for they quickly found
An _entrée_ at the Table Round,
Where, seated with his gallant knights,
Those heroes of a hundred fights;--
‘Leave,’ quoth he, ‘acorns in the husk,
Here’s glorious salmon from the Uske!’” &c.
[Illustration: _Pembroke Castle_]
PEMBROKE CASTLE,
Pembrokeshire.
“Hic exarmatum terris cingentibus æquor,
Clauditur, et placidam descit servare quietem.”
“In agro totius Walliæ amœnissimo, principale provinciæ municipium
Demetiæq. caput, in Saxosa quadam et oblonga rupis in capite
bifurco complectitur. Unde Britannis Pembro dicitur, quod caput
marinum sonat, et nobis Penbroke.”--_Gyrald._
Earldom.--“There have been divers Earls of Pembroke,” says Camden, “out
of sundry houses. As for Arnulph of Montgomery, who first wonne it, and
was afterwards outlawed, and his castellan Girald, whom King Henry the
First made afterwards president over the whole country, I dare scarcely
affirm that they were Earles. The first that was styled Earle of
Pembroke was Gilbert, surnamed ‘Strongbow,’[367] son of Gilbert de
Clare, in the time of King Stephen. This Gilbert, or Gislebert, de
Clare, let it unto his sonne, the said Richard Strongbow, the renowned
conqueror of Ireland, and descended, as Gyraldus informs us, “ex clara
Clarenium familia”--the noble family of Clare, or Clarence. His only
daughter, Isabel,[368] brought the same honour to her husband, William,
surnamed the Mareschal, for that his ancestours had beene by inheritance
mareschals of the King’s palace, a man most glorious in war and
peace,[369] and protector of the kingdome in the minority of K. Henry
the Third,[370] concerning whom this pithie epitaph is extant in
Rodburne’s Annales: ‘Sum quem Saturnus,’[371] &c., which is thus done
into English--
‘Whom Ireland once a Saturn found, England a sunne to be;
Whom Normandie, a Mercury, and France, Mars,--I am he.’”
“After him,” continues our authority, “his five sons were successively,
one after another, Earles of Pembroke; namely, William, called the
younger; Richard, who, after he had rebelled against King Henry the
Third, went into Ireland, where he was slain in battle; Gilbert, who, in
a tournament at Ware,[372] was unhorsed, and so killed; Walter and
Anselm, who severally enjoyed the honor but a few daies; and all dying
without issue, the King invested in the honor of this earldome William
de Valentia, his brother by the mother’s side, who had to wife Joan,
daughter of Gwarin de Montchensi, by the daughter of the foresaid
William the Mareschal.”
Of this Earl Valence we read, shortly after this, that the King,
solemnizing the festival of St. Edward’s translation, in the church at
Westminster, with great state, sitting on his royal throne in “a rich
robe of Baudekyn,” and the crown on his head, caused this William de
Valence, with divers other young noblemen, to be brought before him, and
so girt him with the sword of knighthood.
In a tournament held at Bruckley, it is said that he much abused Sir
William Adingsells, a valiant knight, through the countenance of
Richard, Earl of Gloucester. The following year he was signed with the
cross, together with the King himself, and divers other noble persons,
in order to an expedition to the Holy Land; and at the same time he
obtained the King’s precept to Robert Walrane, to distrain all such
persons as did possess any of the property belonging to Joan his wife,
one of the cousins and heirs to Walter Mareschal, Earl of Pembroke, to
perform their suit to the county of Pembroke, as they had wont to do in
the time of that earl.[373]
This Earl Valence was present at the battle of Lewes, some particulars
of which have been detailed in the first volume of this work. “When he
had lost the day, and with the Prince was made prisoner, William de
Valence, then called Earl of Pembroke, though not before, as it is
thought, being a principal commander in the van of the King’s army,
seeing the day lost, with the Earl of Warren and some others, escaped by
flight, first to the castle of Pevensey, and thence to France. After
which, all being in the power of the Barons, his lands were seized, and
those in Surrey and Sussex committed to the custody of John de Aburnum
and John de Wanton. And whereas Joan his lady was then great with child,
and with her family and children in Windsor Castle, she was commanded to
depart thence, and betake herself to some religious house or other place
near at hand, until after her delivery. In which distress, the King,
still their prisoner, being forced to comply with them in whatsoever
they required, submitted to their ordinances of Oxford; the chief of his
friends also giving oath for the due observance of them; amongst whom
this William de Valence, then come back into England, was one.”
“But long it was not ere the two principal ringleaders in this tragic
action, namely, Montfort, Earl of Leicester, and Clare, Earl of
Gloucester, fell at odds--Clare stomaching Leicester for assuming to
himself the whole sway in the government; betaking him, therefore, to
those true-hearted Royalists who had stood firm to the King in his
greatest miseries, a means was contrived for the Prince to escape from
Hereford Castle, where, with the King his father, he was kept prisoner.”
“Whereupon this
William, Earl of Pembroke, with John, Earl Warren, who had been banished
the realm by a public edict of Montfort, landing at Pembroke, about the
beginning of May, with about a hundred and twenty men, horse and foot,
joined with them; and within a short time after, giving battle to
Montfort and his party at Evesham, totally vanquished all their whole
army; whereby the King, being set at liberty, was again restored to the
exercise of his regal power.”[374]
This Earl William had issue three sons: to wit, John, who died young;
William, and Aymer. “William was lord of Montygnac and Belluc; and in
the 7th Edw. I. did oblige himself, on the behalf of John, Lord Visci,
who had married Mary, the sister of Hugh de Lezinian (Lusignan), Earl of
March, for the repayment of two thousand five hundred pounds _Tournois_,
in case she should die without issue. After which, being with Gilbert,
Earl of Gloucester, in a skirmish which he had with the Welsh, near
Llantipowhir, was there slain in his father’s lifetime.” So that
Aymer de Valence, the third son--a name of great celebrity--succeeded to
the earldom of Pembroke. He attended the King in the expedition made
into Flanders; and the same year was assigned one of the commissioners
to ratify the agreement betwixt the King and Florence, Earl of Holland,
touching those auxiliaries which he was to have from that Earl in his
present wars; as also one of the ambassadors sent to treat of truce
betwixt King Edward and the King of France. He next attended the King
two years in his wars in Scotland; and was then sent ambassador to treat
with those from the King of France, touching a peace with the Scots. Two
years after this he was again in Scotland; and the same year (33d Edw.
I.) he had license to go beyond sea on his own occasions.
On his return he obtained a grant from the King, of the castles of
Selkirk and Troquair in Scotland; also of the borough of Peebles, to
hold by the service of one knight’s fees; likewise of the whole forest
of Selkirk in fee-farm, paying a hundred and thirty pounds per annum;
and to be sheriff there [as Sir Walter Scott was in our own times,
though with very different powers]; with authority to build towns,
churches, castles, and other fortifications; as also for free warren,
and power to _deafforest_ and make parks therein at his own pleasure.
Shortly after which he made a “pile”[375] at Selkirk, and placed a
garrison therein. Next year he was sent, as Warden of the Marches of
Scotland, toward Berwick-upon-Tweed; and being thereupon made the King’s
Lieutenant, and Captain-General of the soldiery--horse and foot--for the
defence of those parts against Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, and his
complices, he had an assignation of two hundred pounds in part of his
wages, to be paid to him by John de Sandale, Chamberlain of
Scotland.--[Chronicle.]
Shortly after this, Bruce, compassing that realm, and receiving the
homage of many, came near to St. Johnstone [or Perth], to the defence
whereof this Earl being arrived but a little before, Bruce sent to him,
by way of challenge to battle, whereunto returning answer that he would
meet him the next day, Bruce retired; which being discovered by this
Earl, he sallied out and slew divers of the Scots, unarmed, as it is
said. Bruce therefore being advertised hereof, fled to the Isle of
Kintyre, whereupon he followed him, supposing to find him in the castle
there. But upon his taking possession thereof, and discovering none but
his wife, and Nigel de Bruce, his brother, he hanged up Nigel and all
the rest who were with him, excepting only her. Bruce, therefore,
growing exceedingly exasperated at this his great cruelty, raised all
the power he could, and giving battle to him, forced him to flee to the
castle of Ayr. Soon after this, being with King Edward, on his
death-bed, at Burgh-upon-the-Sands, not far from Carlisle, he was one of
those whom the King desired to be good to his son, and not to suffer
Piers de Gaveston to come into England again, to set him in riot; for
which he was much hated by Piers, as divers others of the nobility were,
being called by him Joseph the Jew, in regard that he was tall, and pale
of countenance.--[Chronicle.]
But as it would far exceed our present limits to notice all that the
chronicles have recorded of him, we conclude with a few brief
particulars:--In the second of Edward II. he was sent with Otto de
Grandison and others to the Pope upon special business; he next joined
the Earl of Lancaster and others in the design of putting down
Gaveston--agreeably to the promise he had made to the dying King; so
likewise with John de Warren, Earl of Surrey, in the siege of
Scarborough Castle, in which Gaveston had taken refuge; and having there
seized upon him, intended to have carried him to Wallingford, but
lodging him at Deddington in Oxfordshire, he was taken thence in the
night by the Earl of Warwick, and by him beheaded on Blacklow Hill, near
Warwick, where a monument has been erected to perpetuate the deed.
Three years after this, the Earl was sent again to Rome, and obtained a
grant in general tail from the King, of the house and place called the
“New Temple” in London, as also of certain lands called _Fleet-crofts_,
with all other the lands in the city and suburbs of London, which
belonged to the Knights-Templars, with remainder to the King and his
heirs.
In the tenth of Edward II. he was engaged in the Scottish wars; but
before the end of that year, being taken prisoner by Sieur Moilly, a
Burgundian, and being sent to the Emperor, he was constrained to give
twenty thousand pounds of silver for his ransom, by reason, as Moilly
alleged, that himself having served the King of England, had not been
paid his wages. Upon this occasion King Edward wrote letters to divers
foreign princes, soliciting his deliverance, which was effected; for we
find him immediately thereafter appointed governor of Rockingham Castle,
and heading the King’s army in Scotland. But at last, after many
important and honourable services to the State, performed with great
ability, he was constituted Warden of all the Forests south of Trent;
and being still Warden of Scotland, had license to travel beyond sea.
Upon the taking of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, at Boro’bridge, he was one
of those who passed sentence of death upon him at Pontefract. “After
which it was not long that he lived; for, attending Queen Isabella into
France in 1323, he was there murdered in the month of June, by reason,”
as the chronicle supposes, “of his having had a hand in the death of the
Earl of Lancaster.” He left vast demesnes in England, in nine or ten
counties, but no issue by any of his three wives.--[Chronicles.]
His eldest sister, Elizabeth, one of his heirs, “wedded unto John, Lord
Hastings, brought this dignity into a new family; for Laurence Hastings,
his grandson, Lord of Weishford and Abergavenny, was made Earle of
‘Penbrock,’[376] by virtue of King Edward the Third, his brieffe, the
copy whereof I thinke good to set doune here, that we may see what was
the right by heires generall in these honorary titles. It runs
thus:--Rex omnibus ad quos ... Salutem, etc. The which being
interpreted, is--
“Know ye that the good praesage of circumspection and vertue which we
have conceived by the towardly youth and happy beginnings of our most
welbeloved cousin Laurence Hastings, induce us worthily to countenance
him with our especiall grace and favour, in those things which concerne
the due preservation and maintenance of his honor: Whereas, therefore,
the inheritance of Aimar de Valence, some time Earle of Penbrok (as he
was stiled), deceased long since, without heire begotten of his body,
hath beene devolved unto his sisters, proportionably to be divided among
them and their heires: because we know for certain that the foresaid
Laurence, who succeeded the said Aimar in part of the inheritance, is
descended from the elder sister of Aimar aforesaid; and so, by the
avouching of the learned with whom we consulted about this matter, the
prerogative both of name and honor is due unto him: Wee deem it just and
due that the same Laurence, claiming his title from the elder sister,
assume and have the name of Earl of Penbroke, which the said Aimar had
whiles he lived: which verily Wee, as much as lieth in Us, confirme,
ratifie, and also approve unto him: willing and granting that the said
Laurence have and hold the prerogative of Earle Palatine in those lands
which he holdeth of the said Aimar’s inheritance, so fully and after the
same manner as the said Aimar had and held them at the time of his
death. In witnesse, the King at Mont-Martin, the thirteenth day of
October, and in the thirteenth of oure reign.”
And now to continue:--
After Laurence, succeeded his sonne John, who, being taken prisoner by
the Spaniards in a battle at sea, and in the end ransomed, died in
France in the yeere 1375. The circumstances are these: “Having undergone
four years’ imprisonment in Spaine, with most inhumane usage, he sent to
Bertrand Clekyn, Constable of France, desiring that he would use some
means for his enlargement; who thereupon interceding for him to the
Bastard of Spaine, then calling himself King, obtained his liberty, in
consideration of part of that money due to himself: which being agreed
upon, he was brought to Paris. But after his coming thither, it was not
long ere he fell mortally sick of poysin, as some thought, given him by
the Spaniards, who were reputed to have such a special faculty in that
art, as that the potion should kill at what distance of time they
pleased. The French, therefore, seeing his death approaching, being
eager to get his ransom before he died, made haste to remove him to
Calais; but on his journey thitherward he departed this life, upon the
xvi. day of April, leaving his sonne and heire only two and a half years
old.”
Agreeably to the superstition of the time, all his misfortunes and death
were looked upon as judgments, for various alleged offences committed
against the Church revenues: recommending that the clergy should be
taxed more than the laity--for living an ungodly life--for “everything
that could render him hateful in the eyes of monks, whom he insulted and
exposed.”
After him followed his sonne John, second Earle of his line, who, in
running a tilt[377] at Woodstock, was slaine by Syr John Saint John,
casually, in the yeare 1397. And hereupon, for default of his issue,
there fell very many possessions and fair revenewes into the King’s
hands, as our lawiers use to speake: and the Castle of Penbrock was
granted unto Francis At-Court, a courtier in especiell great favour, who
commonly thereupon was called Lord Penbrock. Not long after, Humfrey,
sonne to King Henry the Fourth, before he was Duke of Gloucester,
received this title of his brother, King Henry the Fifth: and before his
death Henry the Sixth granted the same in reversion--a thing not before
heard of--to William De la Pole, Earle of Suffolk, after whose downfall
the said King, when he had enabled Edmund of Wadham, and Jasper of
Hatfield, the sonnes of Queen Katherine, his mother, to be his lawfull
half brethren, created Jasper Earle of Penbroke, and Edmund Earl of
Richmond, with pre-eminence to take place above all Earles--for Kings
have absolute authority in dispensing honours. But King Edward the
Fourth, depriving Jasper of all his honours by attainder and forfeiture,
gave the title of Penbrok to Syr William Herbert, for his good service
against Jasper in Wales;[378] but he shortly afterwards lost his life at
the battle of Banbury. Then succeeded his son, bearing the same name,
whome King Edward the Fourth, when he had recovered the kingdom,
invested in the Earldom of Huntingdon, and bestowed the title of
Penbrok, being surrendered, upon his eldest sonne and heire, Edward
Prince of Wales.--[Chronicle.]
Long after this period, “Henry the Eighth invested Anne Bollen, to whom
he was affianced, Marchioness of Penbroke, with a mantle and coronet, in
regard both of her nobility and also her virtues--for so runne the
wordes of the patent. At length King Edward the Sixth adorned Sir
William Herbert, lord of Caerdiff, with the title of Earl of Penbroke,
after whom succeeded his sonne Henry, who was Lord President of Wales
under Queen Elizabeth. And now”--says our old King-at-arms, speaking
courteously of his contemporaries--“his sonne, richly accomplished with
all laudable endowments of body and minde, enjoyeth the same title. And
this family of Herberts, he concludes, is honourable, and of great
antiquity in these parts of Wales, as lineally propagated from Henry
Fitz-Herbert, Chamberlayne to King Henry the First, who married the said
King’s Paramour, the mother of Reginald, Earle of Cornwall, as I was
first informed by Robert Glover, a man passing skilfull in the study of
genealogies, by whose untimely death that knowledge hath sustained a
great losse.”
So much for the Genealogy of the old lords of Pembroke. In this
department of history--the tracing of genealogies--in which the Cambrian
families are proverbially expert, but which others affect to ridicule,
we must not omit the defence of a learned Welshman: “That there have
been,” says he, “parasites in the art, must be acknowledged; and family
pride may sometimes have been flattered. However, upon the whole, much
credit is due to our ancient genealogists, who were appointed and
patronized by Royalty, and professed that art prior to their initiation
into the higher mysteries of Bardism. Their records are still extant,
and bear every mark of authenticity. A bard and a _genealogist_ were
synonymous; and though a bard can plead _licentia poetica_, yet fiction
was not allowed in recording the actions of their heroes,[379] nor in
registering the descent of families. The Welsh bards continued their
genealogical pursuits down to the reign of Elizabeth; therefore, as
Humphrey Lwyd, a learned antiquary and historian, observes: “Let such
disdainful heads as cant know their own grandfathers, leave their
scoffing and taunting of Welshmen for that thing that all other nations
in the world do glory in.” Yet, in justice to the ancient Saxons on this
point, it must be allowed that they themselves were not altogether
indifferent to the study of genealogy, since their deducing of their
King Ethelwulph from Adam is an instance of their _accuracy_ in the
art--
“Can Bourbon or Nassau go higher?”[380]
On the “Herbert genealogy,” Mr. Willatt relates the following
characteristic Anecdote.--About two miles from Abergavenny, says he, is
Handel--once a mansion of no less magnificence than antiquity; but in
the present day it is only interesting from its having been the cradle
of the ancient and numerous family of Herbert. Of the vast possessions
of this family, the inheritance of the last lineal descendant, who died
twenty years ago, had dwindled down to less than two hundred a year. But
however reduced in fortune, his pride of ancestry had lost nothing of
its strength or spirit by the change. Meeting a stranger one day near
his mansion, who took an interest in the local history and natural
beauties of the scenery, they entered into conversation.
“And pray, Sir,” inquired the stranger, “whose is that antique-looking
mansion before us?”
“That, Sir,” replied the last of the Herberts, “is Handel--a very
ancient house, for _out_ of it came the Earls of Pembroke of the first
line; and the Earls of Pembroke of the second line; the Lords Herbert of
Cherburg; the Herberts of Coldbrook, Rumney, Cardiff, and York; the
Morgans of Acton came _out_ of it; so also did the Earl of Hunsdon; the
Joneses of Treowen and Llanarth, and all the Powells. Out of this house
also, by the female line, came the Dukes of Beaufort!”
“And pray, Sir,” inquired the stranger, “who lives in it now?”
“I, Sir--I live in it,” was the answer.
“Then pardon me, Sir, if I presume to give you a little advice. Do not
lose sight of so many prudent examples, but come _out_ of it yourself,
or it will assuredly fall _in_ upon you, and crush you in its ruins!”
With this digression, suggested by the subject, we return to Pembroke.
The Castle.--In the words of Giraldus, already quoted in our motto, the
situation of the Castle of Pembroke is thus correctly described:--A
tongue of the sea, shooting forth of Milford-Haven, encloseth in the
forked end thereof the principal town of the whole country, and chief
place of Dimetia, seated on the ridge of a certain craggy and
long-shaped rock, from which circumstance the Britons gave it the name
of Penbro, which signifies a head of the sea. Arnulph Montgomery, so
often mentioned in the early portion of this work, was the first who
built a temporary fortress on this promontory--a very weak and slender
thing, God wot, says Giraldus--consisting of merely walls, held together
by stake and turf; and which, after returning into England, he delivered
unto Girald of Windesor, his constable and captain, to be kept with a
garrison of a few soldiers. The absence of Arnulph, however, was the
signal for immediate revolt; and the warlike inhabitants of South Wales
hastening to the spot, laid siege to the brittle fortress. But here they
met with such a hot reception and stubborn resistance from Girald and
his small garrison, that they were speedily disheartened and raised the
siege. This attack served as a warning for Girald to strengthen his
position; and he lost no time in fortifying the town and castle with
walls and towers, sufficient to maintain him in quiet possession of the
new territory. When this was accomplished, he began to retaliate; and
acting upon the aggressive, invaded the surrounding country far and
near. At length, finding himself at the head of a powerful garrison, yet
willing to conciliate the natives--and thereby preserve his own estates
and those of his followers free from the vexation of hostile
irruptions--he ingratiated himself with Gruffin, the prince of the
country, who gave him his sister, the beautiful Nesta,[381] in marriage;
and thus cemented a friendly alliance between the native Welsh and the
Anglo-Normans. Great prosperity followed this event, and the
Anglo-Normans--as Giraldus Cambrensis, who was a scion of the family,
informs us--not only maintained peace along the sea-coasts of South
Wales, but won also the “waulls of Ireland.”
The Giraldus de Windesor above mentioned was the first of that name; and
is considered as the great progenitor of the Fitzgeralds of the present
day--of whom the chief families are of Irish extraction, and familiar in
the pages of modern history.
It is also written in the same documents, in regard to the tenure of
this castle and town, likewise of the “castle and town of Tenbigh, of
the Grange of Kingswood, of the Convent of Croytargath, and of the
manors of Castle-Martin and Tregoire, that Reginald Grey, at the
coronation of King Henry the Fourth, made suit to carry the second
sword, but in vain; for answer was made him, that those castles and
possessions were in the King’s hands, in the same manner as the town and
castle of Pembroke now are”--[that is, at the date of the present
extract.]
The Siege.--We now proceed to give a few details of Pembroke Castle, as
it figures in the chronicles of Richard the Third and Charles the First.
* * * * *
The more rational and less bigoted part of the nation regarded Henry,
Earl of Richmond, as the future deliverer of the kingdom, from the
thraldom it endured from the tyranny of the sanguinary King Richard; for
in Henry were to be united the pretensions of both the “Houses” of York
and Lancaster. The Earl was, meanwhile, resident in Brittany, and living
on good terms with the duke of that Province, who appeared to favour his
claims, and treated him with marked respect and hospitality. But the
circumstance that more immediately favoured his accession to the throne
of England was the following:--Morton, Bishop of Ely, was confined in
the Castle of Brecon, in custody of Henry, Duke of Buckingham, who had
been a minion of Richard, and a powerful instrument of his advancement
to the throne; but finding that his services in a bad cause were
forgotten, and that Richard refused to ratify his claims to the Bohun
estates and titles--to which he was heir--Buckingham entered warmly into
the plans concerted by Morton and others for the recall of Richmond, and
by his marriage with Elizabeth, daughter of Edward the Fourth, to
establish a double right to the throne. Dugdale assigns another reason
for Buckingham’s secession from the usurper: after asserting that he was
reinstated in those possessions which he claimed as a descendant of
Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, and giving him an abstract of the
instrument that put him in possession, he adds his opinion on the
alteration which took place in his political sentiments, and ascribes it
either to a remorse of conscience for raising Richard to the throne,
after the murder of his nephews, or finding himself neglected by him:
but with this question we have nothing to do.[382] Having concerted the
plan of elevating Richmond to the throne, the secret was intrusted to
Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, and Richard Kyffin, Dean of Bangor--both strenuous
friends of the House of Lancaster--who transmitted, by means of
fishing-boats, the necessary intelligence to the Earl of Richmond, with
assurance of all possible aid on his arrival in Wales. This was an
occasion too alluring for the Welsh Bards to continue silent; one of
whom, Dafydd ap Llwyd ap Llywelyn ap Dryffyd, lord of Mathafarn, an
illustrious poet and herald, rendered himself very serviceable in the
cause. His dark, mysterious, Pythonic prophecies, that a chieftain of
Wales would liberate the nation from Saxon bondage, so wrought upon the
valour of his countrymen, that many thousands enlisted under the banner
of Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, who afterwards joined Richmond on his arrival at
Milford.
Apprized of the state and feeling of the country, and of the facilities
which were now presented to him of recovering his position and station,
Henry embraced the invitation as a message from Heaven; and, in the
month of August, 1485, set sail for England. For this enterprise the
Duke of Brétagne furnished him with a military force of two thousand
men; and, with these distributed in a small fleet, he landed at
Milford-Haven, where he was received with joy and acclamation by a vast
concourse of friends, who now openly espoused his cause and predicted
his triumph.
From Milford, Richmond proceeded to Dale and Haverfordwest, where he was
joined by the above-named Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, Arnold Butler, Richard
Gryffydd, John Morgan, Sir George Talbot, with the young Earl of
Shrewsbury, his ward, Sir William Stanley, lord of Bromfield Yale and
Chirkland, Sir Thomas Burchier, and Sir Walter Hungerford.[383]
After a most hospitable reception at Carew Castle, it was agreed, in
order to prevent disputes between the armies, that in the march to
Shrewsbury, the Earl should shape his course to Cardigan, and Sir
Rhys-ap-Thomas by Carmarthen. In this march, Dafydd-ap-Ievan had the
honour of entertaining the illustrious Prince and his army at
Llwyn-Dafydd, Cardiganshire, for one night; and the following night he
was received with loyal enthusiasm at Wern-Newyd, by Einon-ap-Dafyd
Llwyd. To Dafydd-ap-Ievan the Earl presented a superb hirlas, or
drinking-horn, richly mounted on a silver stand, which was afterwards
presented to Richard, Earl of Carbery, and may still be seen[384] at
Golden Grove, the seat of Lord Cawdor, Carmarthen.
“Pride of feasts, profound and blue,
Of the ninth wave’s azure hue;
The drink of heroes formed to hold,
With art enriched and lid of gold.”--_Hoare’s Gir._
From his hospitable quarters in Cardiganshire, Richmond sallied forth to
meet the usurper; and marching through Shrewsbury, Newport, Stafford,
and Lichfield, encountered him at Bosworth--
“What, ho! young Richmond, ho! ’tis Richard calls thee!
I hate thee, Harry, for thy blood of Lancaster!
Now, if thou dost not hide thee from my sword,
Now, while the angry trumpet sounds alarms
And dying groans transpierce the wounded air;
Richmond, I say, come forth and singly face me!
Richard is hoarse with daring thee to arms!”
The fate of that day is so familiar in the page of Shakspeare, that we
close this part of our subject, and proceed to other particulars:--
Anecdote.--Of one of Richmond’s adherents, the following is told by
Turner in his “History of Remarkable Providences:”--Mr. Henry Wyatt, a
gentleman of Kent, was a confederate in the plan, and intrusted with the
correspondence between the friends of the Earl, which he conducted with
great personal risk, but the greatest fidelity, being the bearer of
several dispatches to and from the parties at home and abroad. But at
last his conduct being suspected, he was arrested, examined, and
discharged for want of conclusive evidence. But on a second charge being
brought against him, he was committed to the Tower, and there put to the
torture; but such were his fortitude and resolution, that nothing could
be drawn from him either to prove his own participation in the designs
laid to his charge, or to incriminate others. Finding threats, tortures,
and fair promises alike unavailing, he was cast into a dungeon, fed upon
bread and water, and thus continued until the question of supremacy was
decided by the battle of Bosworth Field. The pittance, it is said, to
which he was condemned, would have been quite inadequate to support
nature, _had not a cat brought him food daily_. He lived to be made a
baronet, in compliment to his unflinching loyalty, and served in the
Privy Council of Henry VII.-VIII.
A picture is said to be still preserved in the family, in which a cat is
represented creeping in at a grate--having a pigeon in its mouth--with
these lines:--
Hunc. macrum. rigidum. mæstum. fame. frigore. cura
Pavi. fovi. acui. carne. calore. joco.
Cromwell, before marching against the Scottish army, thought it
advisable to suppress the returning loyalty of South Wales, which had
recently defeated the Parliamentary forces. The town and castle of
Pembroke had been consigned by Parliament to the government and defence
of Colonel Poyer; but on his declaring for the King, the “gallant
conduct of himself and the garrison afforded a brilliant example of
devotion to the Royal cause.” The defence was continued with so much
obstinacy and resolution, that the presence of Cromwell himself was
necessary for the reduction of the castle: while the garrison, having
suffered for some time from great deficiency of provisions, was at
last--owing, as we shall see, to Lord Jermyn’s total neglect of his
engagements--reduced to the verge of absolute famine.
Cromwell, in the meantime, was quite unaware of the real position of
affairs within the walls; and thinking, from the resistance already
offered, that the place might hold out much longer than would be
consistent with his other plans, was on the point of raising the siege.
But while this question was agitating his mind, a deserter from the
Royalist camp brought him intelligence that, owing to the pressure of
famine, it was impossible that Poyer and his companions could maintain
their post beyond twenty-four hours. This unexpected news determined him
to continue the siege; but however much he prized his timely
information, he determined to express his abhorrence of the “informer;”
and--as a salutary warning to all traitors--he ordered him to be hanged.
It has been doubted, however, whether, in his “military capacity,”
Cromwell was ever in this part of Wales--though Mr. Yorke allows that he
might have made a friendly visit there; for in an old house at Kinmael,
that once belonged to the Llwyds, of the tribe of Maredudd--but at that
period to Colonel Carter, an officer in his favour--there is a room
called Cromwell’s parlour; and, with other circumstances taken into
consideration, little doubt, he thinks, can be entertained of Cromwell’s
having in person conducted the siege of Pembroke.[385]
But the following documents, written by Oliver Cromwell himself, are
conclusive:--
“To Major Thomas Saunders, at Brecknock, these:
“Before PEMBROKE, 17th June, 1648.
“SIR,--I send you this enclosed by itself, because it’s of greater
moment. The other you may communicate to Mr. Ramsey, as far as you
think fit, and I have written. I would not have him and other
honest men be discouraged that I think it not fit, at present, to
enter into contests. It will be good to yield a little for public
advantage; and truly that is my end: wherein I desire you to
satisfy them. I have sent, as my letter mentions, to have you
remove out of Brecknockshire; indeed, into that part of
Glamorganshire which lieth next Monmouthshire. For this end: We
have plain discoveries that Sir Trevor Williams of Llangibby,” &c.,
[is suspected, and must be _secured_. See “Raglan,” page 178.]
Again--
“PEMBROKE, June 28.--I have some few days since despatched horse
and dragoons for the North. I sent them by the way of Winchester;
thinking it fit to do so in regard of this enclosed letter, which I
received from Colonel Dukenfield: requiring them to give him
assistance on the way.”... “Here is, as I have formerly acquainted
your Excellency, a very desperate enemy, who, being put out of all
hope of mercy, are resolved to endure to the uttermost extremity,
being very many of them gentlemen of quality, and men thoroughly
resolved. They have made some notable sallies upon
Lieutenant-Colonel Reade’s quarter, to his loss. [Reade had been
intrusted with the siege of Tenby, ended June 2, and was now
assisting at the reduction of Pembroke.] We are forced to keep
divers posts, or else they would have relief, or their horse break
away; our foot about them are four and twenty hundred; we always
necessitated to have some in garrisons. The country, since we sat
down before this place, have made two or three insurrections, and
are ready to do it every day. So that--what with looking to them,
and disposing our horse to that end, and to get us in provisions,
without which we should starve--this country being so miserably
exhausted and so poor, and we with no money to buy victuals.
Indeed, whatever may be thought, it’s a mercy we have been able to
keep our men together in the midst of such necessity, the
sustenance of the foot, for most part, being but bread and water.
Our guns, through the unhappy accident at Berkley, are not yet come
to us; and, indeed, it was a very unhappy thing they were brought
thither, the wind having been always so cross, that since they were
recovered from sinking, they could not come to us: and this place
not being to be had without fit instruments for battering--except
by starving. And truly I believe the enemy’s straits do increase
upon them; and that within a few days an end will be put to this
business--which surely might have been before, if we had received
things wherewith to have done it....”
“PEMBROKE, July 11, 1648.--To Hon. W. Lenthal, Esq., Speaker of the
House of Commons.
“SIR,--The town and castle of Pembroke were surrendered to me this
day, being the eleventh of July, upon the provisions which I send
you here enclosed. [See Rushworth, vol. vii., 1190.] What arms,
ammunition, victuals, ordnance, or other necessaries of war, are in
the town, I have not to certify you--the commissioners I sent in to
receive the same not being yet returned, nor like suddenly to be;
and I was unwilling to defer giving you an account of this mercy
for a day. The persons excepted are such as have formerly served
you in a very good cause; but being now apostatized, I did rather
make election of them than of those who had always been for the
King, judging their iniquity double, because they have sinned
against so much light, and against so many evidences of divine
Providence going along with and prospering a just cause, in the
management of which they themselves had a share.
“I rest your humble servant, OL. C.”
[Colonel Poyer has had to surrender the castle; Maj.-Gen. Laugharne and
certain other “persons excepted,” have had to surrender at mercy; a
great many more on terms. “Pembroke happily is down, and the Welsh war
is ended.”]
The “certain persons” here alluded to were Colonels Laugharne, Powel,
and Poyer. They were tried by court-martial and found guilty; but
Parliament having determined to punish only one, three papers were given
to them, on two of which were written, “Life given by God;” the blank
paper fell into the hands of the unfortunate Poyer, and served as his
death-warrant.
* * * * *
Of these three officers--“heads of the insurrection in South
Wales”--Clarendon gives the following account:--“Laugharne, Powel, and
Poyer, commanded those parts under the Parliament, which they had served
from the beginning. The first of them was a gentleman of good
extraction, and a fair fortune in land in those counties, who had been
bred a page under the Earl of Essex, when he had a command in the Low
Countries, and continued his dependence upon him afterwards, and was
much in his favour; and by that relation was first engaged in the
rebellion, as many other gentlemen had been without wishing ill to the
King. The second, Powel, was a gentleman too, but a soldier of fortune:
the third, Poyer, had from a low trade raised himself in the war to the
reputation of a very diligent and stout officer, and was at this time
trusted by the Parliament with the government of the town and castle of
Pembroke. These three communicated their discontents to each other, and
all thought themselves ill-requited by the Parliament for the services
they had done, and that other men, especially Colonel Mitten, were
preferred before them; and resolved to take the opportunity of the Scots
coming in, to declare for the King upon the Presbyterian account. But
Laugharne, who was not infected with any of these freaks, and doubted
not to reduce the other two when it should be time to sober resolution,
would not engage till he first sent a confidant to Paris, to inform the
Prince of what he had determined, and of what their wants consisted,
which if not relieved, they should not be able to pursue their purpose,
desiring to receive orders for the time of their declaring, and
assurance that they should in time receive those supplies they stood in
need of. And the Lord Jermyn sent him a promise under his hand, ‘that he
should not fail of receiving all the things he had desired, before he
could be pressed by the enemy,’ and therefore conjured him and his
friends ‘forthwith to declare for the King, which, he assured them,
would be of singular benefit and advantage to his Majesty’s service,
since, upon the first notice of their having declared, the Scottish army
would be ready to march into England.’ Hereupon they presently declared,
before they were provided to keep the field for want of ammunition and
money, and when Pembroke was not supplied with provisions for above two
months, and were never thought of after.”
* * * * *
Pembroke Castle contained many elegant apartments, appropriated to the
use of its lords, in one of which Henry VII. first saw the light of day.
In the inner ward stands the Keep, a circular tower of vast strength and
elegant proportions. The height is computed at seventy feet, the
interior diameter at twenty-four, and the walls from fourteen to
seventeen feet in thickness. The State Apartments appear to have been
finished in a style of great elegance. On the north of the great tower
is a long range of apartments, which seem to be of more recent
construction, or to have been modernised in later times by one or other
of its titled proprietors. From this part of the castle a staircase
communicates with Leland’s “marvellus vault callid the Hogan”--a large
cavern in the rock, opening upon the water, and extending a great way
under the buildings. The entrance is now partially walled up, and formed
into a spacious doorway. The name _Hogan_--which has occasioned some
discussion among antiquaries and etymologists--is probably derived from
_ogof_ or _ogov_, the British name for a cavern. This castle is justly
considered one of the most splendid remnants of military architecture in
the United Kingdom; and, from the state of preservation in which it is
maintained, the design and execution of every compartment may still be
traced with accuracy and precision.
[Illustration: _Pembroke Castle._
Interior of the Great Court.]
CARDIFF CASTLE,
Glamorganshire.
[Illustration: C]ARDIFF, a neat and well-built town, stands at the mouth
of the river Taafe, from which it probably derives its name.[386] Its
chief ornaments are the church and the castle--the latter a structure of
great antiquity, and now converted into a modern residence, in which the
features of a Norman stronghold are made to harmonize with the
embellishments of a refined age; and where, instead of prancing steeds
and bristling spears, the _ballia_ are lined with wallflower,
shrubberies, and all those tranquil emblems, which indicate the reign of
peace, and the cultivation of taste. Such innovations and refinements,
however, are rather out of character with the place.
The town, when such protection was necessary, was surrounded by a wall,
flanked with towers, and fit to resist and repulse an army of besiegers;
but these warlike appendages, like those who built them, have passed
away, and left behind them little more than the tradition of their
massive strength and number. The towers, as well as the castle, were the
work of Fitz-Hamon, who, as already noticed, possessed himself of
Glamorganshire at the close of the eleventh century, and divided the
spoils among his retainers. The following account of his
expedition--somewhat different from the chronicle above quoted--is from
Caradoc of Llancarvan:[387]--About the same time also died Cadifor, the
son of Calhoyn, lord of Dyfed, whose sons, Llewellyn and Eineon, moved
Gruffydh-ap-Meredith to take up arms against his sovereign prince,
Rhys-ap-Twdor, with whom they joined all the forces they could levy
among their tenants and dependants; and then passing with their army to
Llandydoch, boldly challenged Rhys to fight; who thereupon gave them
battle, and after an engagement, maintained with great resolution on
both sides, the rebels were at length put to flight, and so closely
pursued that Gruffydh was taken prisoner, and executed as a traitor. But
his brother Eineon making his escape, and not daring to trust himself to
any of his kindred, fled to Jestyn-ap-Gurgant, lord of Morgannwe, then
in actual rebellion against Prince Rhys. And, to ingratiate himself the
more in Jestyn’s favour, he promised, on the performance of certain
articles--one of which was, that he should receive his daughter in
marriage--that he would bring over to his aid a considerable body of
Normans, with whom he was intimately acquainted, from the fact of his
having served with them in England. These articles being agreed to,
Eineon hastened across the frontier, and soon prevailed on Fitz-Hamon
and his knights to take up the cause of Jestyn. Early in the spring they
arrived in Glamorganshire, and joining Jestyn marched with their
combined forces into the dominions of Prince Rhys, where, without the
least show of mercy to his countrymen, Eineon, by his own example,
encouraged the Normans to destroy all that came before them. The prince,
then more than ninety-eight years of age, and sadly grieved to find his
people and territory so unmercifully harassed, speedily raised an army
and marched against the invaders. They met near Brecknock, and there,
after a most sanguinary engagement, the venerable prince fell at the
head of his army, and left his country a prey to Norman domination.
Having discharged their stipulated service, and received the promised
reward, Fitz-Hamon and his army prepared to embark for England. But
before they set sail, Eineon made his complaint that Jestyn had
ungratefully affronted him, and absolutely refused--now that the Normans
were dismissed--to make good the conditions previously agreed upon
between them; and such was the malignity of his revenge, that he
resolved rather to see his country pass under the yoke of the Normans,
than continue under the dominion of a chief who could thus forget the
hand that had procured him the victory. He therefore made use of every
argument most likely to influence the Norman spirit, and prevailed. They
returned from their ships and prepared for another campaign; and great
was the surprise of Jestyn when he learned that the friends whom he had
so lately dismissed laden with the reward of their services, and
satisfied with his liberality, were again on shore with the avowed
intention of engaging him in mortal conflict. He now lamented his folly
in having so rashly broken his promise with Eineon; but that was an
error which it was now too late to rectify. The Norman standard was once
more waving from the adjoining heights. The soldiers were animated with
the prospect of another victory--the rich spoils they were to share--and
charmed with the accounts which Eineon had promulgated among them, as
baits to their cupidity, of the fertile settlements that here awaited
them. The conflict was brief. Jestyn had little to oppose to men who
were resolved to possess themselves of the country. Unable to protract
the contest, he abandoned his lordship of Glamorgan to the invader, and
retired into obscurity--there to meditate on his own folly, and the
degradation to which it had reduced him.
The Normans, as usual, took the “lion’s share.” They divided the best
portions of the soil--all that was most pleasant and productive--among
themselves; and left only the mountainous and craggy ground to Eineon,
with whatever enjoyment a sense of gratified revenge, and the voluntary
subjugation of his country, was calculated to furnish. From this moment
the Normans were established in Wales; and soon began to erect those
monuments of their sway, which it is our present object to notice and
illustrate.
[Illustration]
Curthose Tower.--The apartment where Prince Robert was confined by his
unnatural brother, is traditionally known as “Curthose’s Tower.” So in
Chepstow Castle, the keep is distinguished as “Marten’s Tower;” but
between the fate of the two prisoners, who have left their names thus
associated, there is no resemblance. The more illustrious the captive,
the more dismal was the cell in which he was immured. It must have been
at all times a wretched dungeon, such only as a malignant fiend would
have assigned to its human victim. A ray of light, barely sufficient to
distinguish the difference between night and day, is admitted by a small
square hole perforated through the wall upwards; and the mere fact of
his having existed in this dreary cell for the long period of twenty-six
years, proves that Robert Curthose must have possessed no ordinary
degree of fortitude and resignation. But the courage inspired by
conscious innocence is proof against the machinations of Fortune--
“He that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit i’ th’ centre and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun--
Himself is his own dungeon.”
The sufferings inflicted upon Robert in this dismal prison, are a theme
on which the old chronicles dilate with painful minuteness. It would be
a relief to imagine that the acts of wanton cruelty practised upon the
defenceless victim, may have been, like many other points of history,
exaggerated or misrepresented; but, taken in connection with other deeds
of the time, there is but too just grounds to conclude that the story of
Robert’s imprisonment, and the tortures with which it was accompanied,
is no fable, but one of those tragical dramas of real life, to which the
force of imagination can impart no additional horror. The subject,
although referred to in the previous volume of this work, may justify a
few more extracts:--
“But long it was not ere Duke Robert, weary of this unwonted duresse,
sought to escape; and having to walke in the Kinge’s meadows, forests,
and parkes, brake from his keepers without any assisters, or meanes for
security; who being missed was presently pursued and taken in a
quagmire, wherein his horse lay fast. Whereupon the King hearing of this
attempt, considering that woods were no walls to restrain the fierce
lyon, and that to play with his claws was to endanger the state,
commanded him not onely a greater restraint and harder durance, but
also--a thing unfit for a brother to suffer, and most unworthy for
Beauclearke to act--both his eyes to be put out. To effect this truly
barbarous act, he caused his head to be held in a burning basin--thereby
avoiding the deformity of breaking the eye-balls--until the glassie
tunicles had lost the office of retaining their light.”
But at last, after twenty-six years’ imprisonment, “through griefe
conceived at the putting on of a faire new roabe--(too little for the
Kinge himselfe, and therefore, ‘in kindnesse,’ says the Chronicle, ‘sent
to Duke Robert to weare’)--he grew weary of his life, as disdaining to
be mocked with his brother’s cast cloaths; and cursing the time of his
unfortunate nativity, refused thenceforth to take any sustenance, and so
pined himselfe to death.”
Cardiff, in later times, was a point on which Owen Glendower discharged
his vengeance. The inhabitants of Glamorganshire, as descendants of the
Norman conquerors above named, were pre-eminently distinguished for
their loyalty to the King, and their oppression of the natives. But now
they were to feel “the dire resentment of an irritated injured
countryman.” The visit of Ivor Bach to Fitz-Hamon was not more welcome
than this of Owen to his descendants. “Ivor Bach, a Briton,” says
Camden, “who dwelt in the mountains, a man of small stature but of
resolute courage, marched by night with a band of soldiers, and seized
Cardiff Castle, carrying away William, Earl of Gloucester, Fitz-Hamon’s
grandson by the daughter, together with his wife and son, whom he
detained prisoners until he had received full satisfaction for all
former injuries.” The residence of this renowned Briton was Castell
Goch, an outport of Cardiff. He was attached to the daughter of
Jestyn-ap-Gwrgant above named; and being rejected as a suitor for her
hand, he stormed Cardiff Castle, carried her off by force; but, being
overtaken in his retreat near a valley called Pant-coed Ivor, he fell
under the swords of his pursuers.
To return to Glendower: “Having burnt, pursuant to his desolating
system, the Bishop’s palace of Llandaff and other houses, he proceeded
to Cardiff, which he also consigned to the flames.” The town in these
days contained many religious houses--“a goodly priory founded by
Robert, the first Earl of Gloucester; a priory of Black Monks, or
Benedictines; a house of Black Friars in Crokerton Street; a house of
Grey Friars, dedicated to St. Francis, under the custody or wardship of
Bristol; and also a house of White Friars.” None of these houses
experienced any favour from Glendower except the Franciscans, who,
having been firm adherents to King Richard, and on good terms with Owen,
escaped the conflagration; for the whole town was burnt down except the
street where their monastery stood. In this destructive raid through
Glamorganshire, he demolished the ancient Castle of Penmarc, which
belonged to Gilbert Humphreville, one of Fitz-Hamon’s knights, before
named; and which has remained in ruins ever since.[388] But we need not
prosecute these records of a barbarous age further than our subject
demands.
TENBY CASTLE,
Pembrokeshire.
“Terra hæc triticea est marinis piscibus, vino que venali copiose
referta; et quod omnibus præstat, ex Hiberniæ confinio aëris
salubritate temperata.”--_Gyraldus._
[Illustration: T]ENBY, so justly celebrated in the present day as a
delightful watering-place, possesses in its traditions and antiquities
many features of deep interest to the archæologist; and although not
selected as a subject of special illustration in this work, it is fully
entitled to the admiration of the tourist--whether in search of health,
the gray landmarks of History, or studying the picturesque face of
Nature in one of her most delightful aspects. Part of its buildings
occupy the crest of an almost insulated tongue of land projecting into
the sea; others slope down gradually to the harbour at its foot; while
the extreme point of the promontory is crowned with the ruins of the
Castle. “Nothing,” to quote the words of a late sketch,[389] “can be
prettier than its little bay, encircled with rocks of romantic unusual
form, and beautiful warm rich colouring, in some places overhung with
wood, more crystalline than the emerald sea which washes their base, or
more white and firm than the rim of sand which encircles it. In addition
to these, the expanse of sea is everywhere magnificent. Nothing can
surpass the view from the highest part of the town, where it overlooks
the busy little Harbour--the Castle--the Bay, with Caldy Island; the
black Rocks of Giltar Point--the distant Mountains of
Carmarthenshire--and the Peninsula of Gower, with its conspicuous and
fantastic termination--the Worm’s Head Promontory.
“To these natural beauties must be added the mingling of old-world
relics with its modern buildings; traces of towers and fortifications,
antiquated back streets, and crumbling fragments of the Castle, hanging
over the verge of its sea-beaten rock. But a still greater
recommendation to ordinary visitors is the extreme purity and softness
of the air, the neatness and cleanliness of the streets, the quiet yet
cheerful look of the place, and the romantic coast-scenery of the
neighbourhood, with the ruins of castles and other buildings thickly
studded within the circuit of a few miles.” With all these before us, it
may well be questioned whether any other watering-place in the kingdom
can offer a combination of attractions equal to those of Tenby.
The town appears to have derived its earliest importance from its
fisheries;[390] and this, added to the many obvious advantages of its
site, at a time when the Anglo-Norman lords made their first successful
descent upon these shores, clearly pointed it out as a fit locality for
the establishment of a new colony, and the erection of a strong castle
for their protection. When the Flemish settlers--after being driven from
their own home by successive inundations--had this coast assigned to
them, the prosperity of Tenby became gradually accelerated and secured.
Under the example of that industrious people, who had brought with them
a more refined knowledge of commercial intercourse and its numerous
advantages, the harbour was improved, the population of the town were
soon engaged in an extensive woollen manufactory, which, with an
increase of inland and foreign traffic, gradually enriched and enlarged
the place. The commercial spirit of the inhabitants, by increasing the
wealth of the native lords, procured for Tenby the numerous privileges
and immunities which it received under successive governments; while the
Earls of Pembroke, much to their honour, were liberal and munificent in
the foundation and endowment of religious and charitable institutions.
History.--Among the historical facts in the records of Tenby, is the
escape of Richmond, afterwards Henry the Seventh, from this harbour, by
the connivance of Thomas White, the mayor. “Henry, who had been besieged
in Pembroke Castle, succeeded at last in passing the guard, and making
his way to the nearest harbour, where he meant to embark for the
continent.” Here he was received by the mayor, a wealthy wine merchant,
whose commercial intercourse with France gave him every facility for
serving the Prince in this necessitous position of his fortunes. He was
no sooner aware that young Richmond and his mother were in need of his
advice and aid, than he provided them with a temporary shelter from all
danger of their enemies; and as soon as a vessel could be got ready,
conducted them on board, and placing the royal fugitives under the care
of a skilful and trusty skipper, commended them to Heaven, and saw them
safely entered on their prosperous voyage to Brittany.
It is pleasing to add that, when the fortunes of Richmond had placed him
on the throne, the generous conduct of the worthy mayor of Tenby was
not forgotten. The royal favour was expressed by giving him a
life-grant of the King’s lands in and around Tenby, with all the
privileges thereto belonging; and thus making him, in his own person and
experience, a pleasing exception to the proverbial ingratitude of
princes.
The town was formerly--and so long as fortifications were
indispensable--a place of great strength. But of the massive walls and
gates, by which it was attached to the Castle as a citadel, the remains
present no features of paramount interest, except, perhaps, to the
plodding antiquary, whose eyes penetrate far below the surface, and
trace bastions and circumvallations where ordinary men see nothing but
the weeds that cover them.
The Church is a capacious edifice--not remarkable for its architecture,
but with a lofty spire which, like most others on the coast, serves as
an imposing landmark. Churches, dedicated to St. Nicholas, were
generally planted on some commanding eminence overlooking the sea; so
that a glimpse of the sacred landmark might inspire the bewildered
mariner with fresh courage to renew the struggle, or new light to direct
his course, when overtaken by storms or darkness.
The interior of the Church is enriched with an elaborately-carved
ceiling, and various sepulchral antiquities--some of which are curious
and interesting. But that to which the stranger will probably turn with
a partial eye, is the tomb of the worthy Mayor already named, containing
the effigies of John and Thomas White in the quaint costume of their
time, which it was the great merit of “old mortality” sculptors to
imitate, in strict subserviency to the tailor and embroiderer. Here
also--as in several other churches elsewhere--is the effigy of a human
figure in the last stage of emaciation; supposed to be that of a Bishop
of St. David’s, when bishops were known to fast as well as to pray.
Perhaps of him who, in the great dearth--mentioned in a former page of
this work--is said to have died of famine--a very improbable conjecture;
for these exhibitions of frail mortality were only intended as monitors
to the living, and to remind the thoughtless and idle spectators that to
“this they must expect to come at last.” On a flat tombstone in the
floor is an inscription which suggests revolting ideas of the barbarous
practices that once disgraced the “inhospitable” shores of our own land.
The words are, “Walter Vaughan, iv. Jan. 1637;” the name, as it is
conjectured, of the once notorious “wrecker of Dunraven:” a miscreant
who, by hanging out false lights in tempestuous weather, allured unhappy
merchantmen, and other vessels, to the rocks; and when the sea had
broken over them, and the crews were struggling in the arms of despair,
descended with his fellow-ruffians to the double exercise of murder and
plunder. Having amassed capital in this manner, he is supposed to have
selected this coast as an “elegant retirement,” where he could enjoy
the pleasures of society, without betraying the secret of his trade,
and take his place at last among those worthies who have enriched the
hallowed pile with their dust. We would gladly indulge the hope that
this story, though repeated as a fact, is to be regarded only in the
light of a fable; although every reader is aware that the wreckers of
Cornwall were not imaginary beings.
The Carmelites, whose rule was founded upon that of St. Basil, had a
house here, founded by John de Swynmore, of which the convent, or
college, dedicated to St. Mary, stood near the parish church. But the
ancient features of the town are fast passing away, and in a few years
hence--if the march of improvement continue to advance at the same
rate--many of the antiquities of Tenby will have become rather objects
of faith than of sight.
Of the Castle, the only portions now standing that indicate its former
strength are a bastion and a square tower. The rest of the structure
exhibits rather the air of a splendid mansion than of a military
fortress. On the north are the ruins of a large hall, about a hundred
feet in length by twenty in breadth--not the usual proportions; and near
the grand entrance gate is another apartment, eighty feet long by thirty
feet wide. Attached to these two apartments are several others of
smaller dimensions--used probably as offices, or barracks for the
garrison. The situation of this fortress was admirably adapted for
defence. It occupied the extreme point of the promontory; and on every
side--except that facing the town, which was strengthened by art--it was
secured by inaccessible rocks. The original founder of this stronghold
is supposed to have been one or other of those Anglo-Norman lords who,
in the manner already described, rendered themselves masters of the
country. In their wars with the native princes, this Castle became a
frequent object of attack; and in the year 1151, it was taken by
Meredydd and Rhys, sons of Gruffyd-ap-Rhys, who put the garrison to the
sword, in revenge for the shelter they had given to certain persons
charged with having attacked and wounded their brother Cadell, while
engaged in a hunting excursion in the neighbourhood. Again, in 1186, it
was invested by Maelgwn, son of Rhys-ap-Gruffyd, who, by bringing an
overwhelming force against it, took the fortress, and demolished the
works. But the history of this stronghold, like that of most others
built and garrisoned for the same purpose, is nothing more than a
catalogue of disasters, of siege and storm, capture and surrender; where
spectacles of blood were followed by scenes of barbaric splendour, and
he who conquered to-day was often to-morrow’s captive.
Corporation.--Tenby was incorporated about the time of Edward the Third,
by charters granted by the Earls of Pembroke, the provisions of which
were afterwards confirmed and extended by Richard the Third and his
successors. Previous to 1835, the government was vested in a mayor,
common council, and an indefinite number of burgesses--the mayor and
common council being the governing body; and the style of the
Corporation--“The Mayor, Bailiffs, and Burgesses of the Borough of
Tenby.”
Besides the ecclesiastical buildings already noticed, there are the Town
Hall, the Assembly Rooms, a Theatre, spacious baths, and various minor
edifices. All these combine to give an air of taste, comfort, and
prosperity to the borough; and present to the mind’s eye a pleasing
contrast to the crumbling monuments of feudal vassalage, that for
centuries held this flourishing little town in its iron grasp. The
harbour consists of two piers, which shoot into a corner of the bay, and
nearly encircle a small but safe spot for the anchorage of vessels. The
woollen trade, first introduced by the Flemish settlers, has been long
superseded. The imports are chiefly articles of domestic consumption;
and the exports consist of butter, corn, coal, and culm. During the
fishing season, Tenby is a station for the vessels belonging to Plymouth
and Broxham; and the oyster-beds constitute a source of considerable
profit to the fishermen. The prosperity of the place, however, depends
more upon its attractions as a watering-place, than upon any advantage
it possesses as a seaport; and in this respect, as already observed, it
takes unquestioned precedence over the majority of those fashionable
resorts which have so long flourished under the smile of popular favour.
Flemings.--The cause which immediately led to the Flemish settlement on
this coast is as follows:--An inundation[391] of great magnitude
happening in the Low Countries soon after the Conquest, a vast number of
Flemings, driven from their homes, betook themselves to their ships, and
landing in England implored an asylum. An increase of industrious
peaceable subjects was an object not to be overlooked by the Conqueror.
They were accordingly received with alacrity, and treated with cordial
hospitality. After a time these strangers were distributed over the
country, and wherever they settled contributed to the prosperity of the
district. “Many Flemings,” says Malmesbury, “came over to England on
account of relationship to the mother of Henry the First, by her
father’s side; insomuch that--like the Germans of the present day--they
were burthensome to the kingdom.” “Farther,” says the old historian,
“William Rufus had generally ill fortune against the Welsh, which one
may well wonder at, seeing that all his attempts elsewhere were crowned
with success. But I am of opinion that the unevenness of their country,
and the severity of the weather, favoured their rebellion; so it
hindered their progress. But King Henry found out an act to frustrate
all their inventions, by planting Flemings in their country to curb and
continually harass them. King Henry often endeavoured to reduce the
Welsh, who were always prone to rebellion. At last, very advisedly, in
order to abate their pride, he transplanted thither all the Flemings
that lived in England. Wherefore, because their numbers created
uneasiness, and were burthensome to the kingdom, he thrust them all into
Ros, a province of Wales, as unto a common shore, as well to rid the
kingdom of them, as to curb the obstinacy of his enemies.”
To the multitude of Flemings thus disposed of, Henry the Second added,
by banishing out of England all the Flemish soldiers who had taken
service under King Stephen, and granting them permission to join their
compatriots in Pembrokeshire. But although historians in general confine
the influx of Flemish settlers to the lower part of Pembrokeshire, it is
certain that they extended over a much wider district, namely, the whole
sea-coast bounding the counties of Pembroke, Carmarthen, Cardigan, and
Glamorgan. Of the Flemish colony who settled in Cardiganshire, there are
unequivocal proofs in our own times; for their posterity, who continue
to inhabit the tract assigned to their ancestors, differ materially from
the aboriginal Welsh, not only in the peculiarities of speech, but in
those physical distinctions which mark the different races of mankind.
“There is a farm called Nant-y-Flyman,” says Mr. Thomas,[392] “in the
parish of Verwick, two miles north of Cardigan, which is said to derive
its name from the landing of this colony at Traeth-y-Mwnt, a small creek
hard by. The reception they met with on disembarking, was from the
swords of armed natives; and in the carnage that ensued, fell many of
the best and bravest on both sides. In commemoration of this disastrous
rencounter, several heaps of sand adjoining Mount Church point out to
this day the cromlechs of the slain, and are traditionally called “the
graves of the Flemings--Beddau’r Fflemings--where bones of gigantic size
often make their appearance.”
In the Welsh Chronicle, we read that the Normans and Flemings inhabited
the county of Carmarthen, about Llanstephan--the castle of which we
shall presently notice; and under the conduct of Girald and William de
Hay invested the said castle. That they extended likewise coastwise to
Glamorganshire, is evident from the Gower Whittle--a provincial article
of dress peculiar to the Flemings, and from them adopted by the Welsh in
general. The south-west portion of Gower, according to Mr. Collins, is
inhabited by the descendants of a colony of Flemings, who do not talk
the Welsh language, and are distinguished by their own peculiar dress.
They seldom intermarry with their neighbours on the north-west side of
the Gower. Mr. Pye supposes that the Flemings in Wales still speak the
language of Flanders; and relates that a servant, inquiring the road,
“could not understand the language of some cottagers, nor make them to
understand him, though a Welshman; and he was certain they did not speak
Welsh. After much altercation, and inquiry at an alehouse, all
ineffectually, a clergyman solves their doubts by relating that some
Flemish families had settled in that part of South Wales, and have
retained their language to this day.” Here, however, Mr. Pye must have
been misinformed; for they all speak--that is, the lower class--a horrid
provincial dialect of the English language, though not much worse than
certain counties of England, retaining many Saxon words now obsolete,
and unintelligible to any but an antiquary. Camden says, “They speak a
language so agreeable with the English (which indeed has much affinity
with the Dutch), that this small country of theirs is called by the
Britons--‘Little England below Wales.’” “But here Mr. Pye is to be
regarded as a novelist,” says Thomas;[393] “for his account is not
historically true.”
The policy of King Henry in settling these Flemings in Wales, for the
purposes of conquest, security, and strength, was very judicious. Being
a very warlike people--Belgæ--inevitably attached to their benefactors
the English kings, they were always ready to join their standard, or to
make a diversion in their favour against the Welsh. But such frontier
military posts as surrounded the Welsh--such a cordon of warlike
foreigners settled on their coasts--became a source of much evil to the
natives; and altogether inadequate for the purpose which their
introduction was intended to serve; namely, “to secure the fidelity of
the Welsh nation”--whom, on the contrary, their harsh usage and
oppression only contributed to alienate from the English crown, until
their antipathy and resentment found vent in the open insurrection of
Owen Glendower.
The colony is thus described by Giraldus:--“Gens hæc fortis et robusta;
continuoque belli conflictu gens Cambrensibus inimicissima, gens
lanificiis, gens mercimoniis usitatissima, quocumque labore sive
periculo, terra marique lucrum quærere. Gens prævalida vicissim loco et
tempore, nunc ad arma, nunc ad aratra gens promptissima.”
[Illustration: _Manorbeer Castle._
Near the Church.]
MANORBEER CASTLE,
Pembrokeshire.
Manober turribus et propugnaculis erat eximium, ab occidente portum
extensum a Circio et Barea, sub ipsis muralibus vivarium habens
egregium tam sua venustate, quam aquarum profunditate
conspicuum.”--_Gyrald._
MANORBEER, another of those feudal strongholds with which the
Principality abounds, possesses an additional interest as the
birth-place of Giraldus Cambrensis, a sketch of whose life will be found
in these pages.
The Castle, says Leland, “stands between two little hillettes”--the
rocky bases of which repel the fury of a boisterous sea--and is very
imposing as we come upon it, through an antiquated village of
Flemish-looking houses, with singular chimneys--old as the Castle
itself. It is called Manorbeer, or Maenor Byrr, from its being the manor
of the Lords, or the mansion or manor of Byrr. It occupies the crest of
a hill, which commands an extensive prospect of land and sea--the latter
expanding its waves, until they are enclosed by the distant promontory
of St. Gowan’s Head, and presenting at times a scene of great animation
by the numerous vessels that glide along the coast. With its sheltered
green park on one hand, a bare hill, with the slender tower of the old
Norman church, on the other, and the whole mass as if suspended over the
sea-beach that takes its angle and curve from the protruding rocks, the
scene presents a combination of features that never fail to impress the
stranger with mingled sentiments of picturesque beauty, solitude, and
desolation.
The Castle of Manorbeer is a capacious Norman edifice of the first
class, with massive towers, ponderous and lofty gates, high embattled
walls with loopholes, but no windows in the exterior. It presents the
characteristic features of a stronghold, whose chief, at once hated and
feared, retained possession of his conquered manor by no better security
than that of armed retainers--vassals and mercenaries, whose rights and
sense of justice were measured by their swords.
The Gateway forms a grand and imposing feature; and through this, the
principal entrance, we reach the interior Court, upon which the windows
of the quadrangle open, and discover the apartments once occupied by the
Baron and his family--who were thus barred in from the fair face of
nature, and condemned to consider security and seclusion ample
compensation for the sacrifice of other advantages. Here the justice was
retributive; for he who plotted against the rights and liberties of his
fellow-creatures, was little better than a prisoner in his own Castle;
and, even among his sworn retainers, had often cause to suspect an
assassin, and to be the reluctant slave of those fears which no doubling
of his “tried sentinels” could exclude.
The Outworks of the Castle are extensive, and worthy appendages to what
is considered “a perfect model of a Norman Baron’s residence,” the
general characteristics of which were the following:--The simple rude
tower of the Anglo-Saxon was enlarged and improved into what, taking its
name from the builder, was called a Gundulph Keep, the entrance to which
was at a great height. It was approached by a grand staircase, which
went partly round two of the outside fronts of the Castle, and ended in
a grand portal, before which was a drawbridge. The entrance was
indispensably gradual. The first step in advance was the drawbridge,
with a gate about the middle of the staircase, to arrive at the portal.
Secondly, upon arriving at this point, you found it merely the entrance
to a small annexed tower, the whole of which might be demolished without
injury to the body of the Castle. This tower was for the use of the
guard or sentinel. Within this tower was a sort of vestibule, and from
thence was a second entrance--the real entrance to the Keep--through a
second portal, placed in the thickness of the walls. Both the first and
second portals were defended by a portcullis and double gates; so that
there were three strong gates to be forced, and two portcullises to be
destroyed, before even this entrance could be gained. In the thickness
of the wall were two niches, in addition to the second portal, for
wardours or sentinels. Besides this, there was the sally-port, another
small entrance--ascended only by a movable ladder--which had no
communication with the floor above, except by a “small winding
staircase, that, from its narrowness and form, could easily be defended
by one man, and to which additional security was provided by strong
doors. On the
Ground floor--as already observed in this Castle--there were no windows,
very few loopholes, and those so constructed that no missile thrown in
could reach farther than the bottom of the arch. In the first floor
there were no windows, but only loopholes within the tower itself. In
the second floor the windows were so high that no weapon discharged into
them could take effect, as it struck the arch of the window, and
dropped harmless on the floor. On the side near the principal entrance
there were no windows nor lights whatever--not even loopholes on the
same side as the entrance and top of the staircase, because, if so
placed, they would have been exposed to an enemy who, having once gained
the steps, was attempting to force the portal. In
The Vestibule were large windows, because--as the author of the
“Monumenta” supposes--that place was of no importance in a siege: but
this opinion is considered by others to be untenable. A full command of
view was here indispensable; and that this was the object may be
inferred from the loopholes and windows being in an inverted order to
what they are in the great one, and from the vestibule being immediately
over the dungeon, so that, on any attempt at attack, escape or rescue
would be detected. On the
Third story, which contained the state apartments, there was a gallery
within the walls for the conveyance of orders. Mr. King, in his
description of fortified buildings, has noticed a stone arch and false
portals, a round angular tower, and an _affected_ appearance of weakness
in the small square tower and vestibule, as deceptions to mislead the
enemy. But this, as observed by Fosbroke, is questionable; for such
expedients do not occur in all castles of this era--and, had they been
usual, must have been too well known to mislead the enemy. The lower
apartments of these strongholds were reserved as storerooms for the use
of the household and retainers.
The Dungeon, for the security of prisoners, was beneath the ground floor
of the Keep, with which it communicated by a steep, dark, and narrow
staircase. It had, of course, no windows nor loopholes; and the only
aperture for the admission of air was a trap-door in the vestibule. A
gutter carried off water from the floor, which, for this purpose, was
made sloping towards it.
In the centre of the main walls were square wells, opening at bottom
into arches, for the removal and distribution of stores to the upper
apartments; and through the solid walls, also, flues were perforated for
the conveyance of information by the voice. And these contrivances, with
considerable improvements, continue in our own times to facilitate
domestic intercourse in large establishments. In the centre of the
partition wall--as seen at Rochester[394]--was a well for water--like
the shaft of a coal pit--going from the bottom of the tower up to the
very leads; and over every successive floor were small arches in the
wall, forming a communication between the pipe of the well and the
several apartments, so that, by means of a pulley, water could be
distributed to every part of the Castle. The fireplaces in general were
semicircular arches--as already shown and described in this work. The
chimneys were in the form of a sloping cone, and terminated in
loopholes. In some instances, as at Chepstow, they were covered
internally with a hard glazing of cement, so as to prevent the
accumulation and lodgment, and facilitate the removal, of fuliginous
matter on the surface. The great chimney of Raglan Castle is a fine
specimen of its kind, and so capacious as to appear like the
perpendicular shaft of a deep well. The sinks are similar cones, but
ending sideways, obliquely, to prevent the introduction of weapons. The
great state apartments of the Castle consisted of three rooms: of these,
the two principal ones were separated only by large arches, open at the
top, so that there might be a free circulation of air; but under the
arch was a partition wall, in later times of oak-panelling, for hanging
the arras.
Such are a few of the characteristic features of a Norman fortress of
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries--the model upon which the great
castles of Wales were constructed by Edward the First--of which various
particulars have been already given, and others will be found
interspersed in subsequent portions of this work.
While wandering over the ruins of these dilapidated strongholds, of
whose founders it may here be truly said--_stat nominis umbra_, we are
humbled into a sense of the vain and fragile tenor by which all earthly
possessions are held. “There the thistle shakes its lonely head; the
moss whistles to the winds; the fox looks out from the windows, the rank
grass of the wall waves round his head. Desolate is the dwelling of
Moina; silence is in the house of her fathers.”
“Thrice happier he who tends his sheep
Where yonder lowly cot appears;
Than Baron in his iron Keep,
Encircled by his glittering spears.”
The Church of Manorbeer stands upon a high slope, fronting the south
side of the Castle, and forms an interesting feature in the landscape.
It is of Norman architecture, consisting of a tall square tower,
chancel, and nave, divided by a row of massive and rudely-fashioned
pillars. In the north side of the chancel is the monument of a
Crusader--one of those enthusiastic knights, perhaps, who, having heard
the preaching of Archbishop Baldwin, obeyed the summons and followed his
lion-hearted Sovereign to the Holy Land. The effigy, reposing under a
plain canopy, represents a warrior in ring and plate armour, the legs
croisés, and the shield charged with the Barri arms. An effigy is also
pointed out on the same side as that of Giraldus Cambrensis, or Barri,
whose life and literary merits we have so often had occasion to notice.
On the south side of the church are the remains of a “Chantry or
Collegiate building,” erected probably by one of the Barri family, who,
in 1092, joined Fitz-Hamon in his marauding enterprise against a native
prince of the country, and afterwards, as we have seen, divided the
conquered land, in Seigneuries, among his twelve knights and retainers.
The Founder of Manorbeer, so far as we have ascertained, does not make
any distinct figure in history. He was one of the mass of Norman
warriors, who, by their collective strength, personal courage, and
vaulting ambition, made themselves alternately the dread and the support
of Royalty; and who--each in his feudal demesne, within the gates of his
own castle--were absolute sovereigns. And yet few will deny, that out of
the accumulated evils, that like clouds collected and darkened for a
time the apparent destiny of Wales, permanent good was elicited. In the
words of a great poet:--
“Still the ramparted ground
With a vision my fancy inspires,
And I hear the trump sound,
As it marshalled our Chivalry’s sires.
On each turf of that mead,
Stood the captors of England’s domains,
That ennobled her breed,
And high mettled the blood in her veins!
O’er hauberk and helm--
As the sun’s setting splendour was thrown--
Thence they look’d o’er a realm,
And the morrow beheld it their own!”
Wherever they were victorious in battle, there they built a stronghold.
What was gained by violence, was to be held by the same means: while
superior knowledge--superior tactics--the confidence of men accustomed
to victory--of plausible designs and refined policy--were more than a
match for mere “abettors in a good cause,” who could oppose nothing to
the practised arms of the invader but the brute force of undisciplined
hordes, whose indomitable love of home and freedom furnished them with
courage to vindicate their country; and where that failed, with
resolution to perish in the attempt. But we need not here enlarge upon
the merits of a struggle which was protracted for centuries; and if at
last the Norman made good his footing within the Welsh border, it was
only after numerous checks and discomfitures, at a cost which no other
nation could have incurred, and by a system of warfare in which success
was often the result of accident, and where the laws of humanity were
too often trampled under foot.
Giraldus Cambrensis was born at Manorbeer about the year 1146. He was
sent on three different occasions to France, for the sake of
improvement; and prosecuted his studies with so much diligence and
success, as to give him an honourable position among the learned men of
that early period. He obtained great reputation in rhetoric, which soon
brought him into notice; and he was successively promoted, to a canonry
in the cathedral of Hereford, and to the archdeaconry of Brecon. In the
thirtieth year of his age he was elected, by the Chapter of St. David’s,
bishop of that see; but the King’s approbation being withheld, he
resolved to make another journey into France, and resume his studies in
the University of Paris. On his return home, a few years afterwards, he
found the whole country in a state of violent excitement, the canons and
archdeacon of Menevia having joined with the inhabitants in driving out
the bishop of that see, the administration of which was committed to
Barri by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Under this authority he governed
the see of St. David’s for three or four years, and made many
reformations in it.
The next event in his life was the King’s command, in 1185, to attend
the young Prince John into Ireland. Two years afterwards he returned to
Wales, and employed most of his time in writing and revising his
Topographia, to which, after putting the last hand, he proceeded to
Oxford, and read it in a public audience of the University.[395] But the
incident in his life which more particularly entitles him to a notice in
this place, is the fact of his having accompanied Archbishop Baldwin in
his progress through Wales, and with him, also, visited and described
the principal features of the country.
The object of this progress--as above noticed--was to preach a crusade
for the recovery of the Holy Land, for which the lion-hearted Richard,
accompanied by the flower of his nobility, had already set out.
Giraldus, smit with the same enthusiasm which he endeavoured to kindle
in others, took up the Cross. On his departure for the Holy Land, the
King left the chief government of the realm in the hands of William
Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, and appointed Giraldus to act with him in the
commission; but this could not be valid until he obtained a dispensation
from the Pope’s legate for discontinuing the voyage.
In 1190, the Bishop of Ely and the Pope’s legate offered him the see of
Bangor; and again, the following year, Prince John offered him the
bishopric of Llandaff; both of which he declined, in hopes that the see
of St. David’s, on which he had set his heart, might one day fall to his
lot. The following year Girald retired from court; and, removing to
Lincoln, wrote several works which bear his name. Here he continued
until the death of Peter, Bishop of St. David’s, in 1198, when he was
nominated to the vacant see, but rejected by Herbert, Archbishop of
Canterbury, who sent a mandate to the Canons to elect and admit
Geoffrey, Prior of Llanthony, for their bishop. Girald appealed to the
Pope and the Canons by letter, entreating his Holiness to consecrate
him. He took a journey to Rome, and there presented the letter in
person. The Prior of Llanthony, furnished with letters from the
Archbishop, did the same; and the Pope, seeing no likelihood of the
cause being speedily determined, appointed Giraldus administrator, both
in spiritualities and temporalities of the bishopric of St. David’s, and
sent him home.
But in November, 1202, Giraldus was induced to make a third visit to
Rome, where he continued until the 15th of April following; on which day
the Pope gave a definitive sentence in the cause, and vacated the claims
of both candidates. In the month of August, Giraldus returned home to
solicit a new election; but in spite of the opposition, Geoffrey of
Llanthony was elected by the Canons. Giraldus finding it useless to
oppose the Archbishop, resigned all further pretensions to the see of
St. David’s; and shortly after resigned the archdeaconry of Brecon to
his nephew. The remainder of his life seems to have been spent in
retirement, where he composed many works. But there is no evidence of
his having taken an active part in any public affairs, political or
ecclesiastical; and as he was subsequently offered the bishopric of St.
David’s [in 1215], it was on conditions which compelled him to reject
the very see to which he had so ardently aspired. The year of his death
is not mentioned: but in 1220, as we ascertain from contemporary
documents, he was still living.
With a very excusable partiality for his native place, he has
transmitted to posterity the following description of its beauties,
natural and artificial:--
“Maenorpyrr is distant about three miles from Penbroch. The Castle is
excellently well defended by turrets and bulwarks. On the right hand a
rivulet[396] of never-failing water flows through a valley, rendered
sandy by the violence of the winds.”... “The country is well supplied
with corn, seafish, and imported wines, and is tempered by a salubrious
air. Demetia--or territory of St. David’s, with its seven cantreds--is
the most beautiful as well as the most powerful district of Wales:
Penbroch is the finest province of Demetia, and the place I have now
described is the most delightful part of Penbroch. It is evident,
therefore, that Maenorpyrr is the Paradise of all Wales.”
NEATH ABBEY,
Glamorganshire.
“So fares it with the things of earth
Which seem most constant: there will come the cloud
That shall enfold them up, and leave their place
A seat for emptiness. Our narrow ken
Reaches too far, when all that we behold
Is but the havoc of wide-wasting Time--
Or what he soon shall spoil.”
WE learn from Bishop Tanner, that Richard de Grainville, and Constance,
his wife, gave their chapel,[397] in the Castle at Nethe, the tithes
belonging to it, a large tract of waste land, and other possessions, in
the time of Henry I., to the abbot and convent of Savigny, near Lyons,
that they might build an abbey here in Wales. And a very fair abbey,
dedicated to the Holy Trinity, was built accordingly on the west side of
the river, a little below the town of Neath, for monks of the order of
Savigny, or Fratres Grisei, who soon afterwards became Cistercians.
Notwithstanding the original gift to Savigny, as we learn from the same
authority, he did not find any proof that this house was ever subject to
that foreign abbey, or accounted as an alien priory. Being an abbey, it
could not be a cell; and appears rather to have been a daughter-house to
Savigny, in the same way as already described in our account of the two
Llanthonys--mother and daughter. In the Appendix to the Monasticon may
be seen the founder’s charter, with two subsequent charters of
confirmation from King John.[398] From a manuscript notice in Benet’s
College, Cambridge, we learn that, at the time of the dissolution, there
were only eight monks in Neath Abbey. In the twenty-sixth of Henry
VIII., the gross revenue of the house amounted to £150. 4s. 9d., the
clear income to £132. 7s. 7-1/4d. The site was granted to Sir Richard
Williams, alias Cromwell,[399] in exchange.
The Seal of the abbey represented the Blessed Virgin, crowned and
standing, holding in her right hand a lily, in her left the infant
Jesus; in a base, a shield with the arms of Grainville the
founder--namely, three clarions: the legend--“Sigillvm. Comvne.
Monaster. Beate. Marie. de Neth.” A very imperfect impression of this
seal is to be seen in the Augmentation Office.
In Moore’s Monastic Remains, it has been observed, in a passage quoted
from Leland, that Neath Abbey was ‘once the fairest in all Wales;’ and,
from the ruins still remaining, much credit may be given to this
description. The west end, excepting the great arch, was tolerably
perfect in 1788; but previously to that time the east end and principal
part of the nave had been demolished, while the lateral aisles remained
covered with ivy. In addition to these, several apartments of the abbey
were still standing on the south side of the church.
This monastery is said to have been so extensive, that seven preachers
might hold forth at the same time in different parts of the building,
without being mutually heard; but in the present day the crypt is the
only characteristic feature that is left. The ruins, however--spread
over an extensive area--still afford accommodation for numerous workmen
employed in the famous iron-works of the place. It was in the
Abbey-house of Neath, where he had taken refuge, that the unfortunate
King Edward the Second was arrested:--
“Whither,” says the Chronicle, in a passage at once pathetic and
picturesque,--“whither, in the meane space, doth woeful Edward flye?
What force, what course, what way takes he, poore Prince? Oh! fearful
condition of so great a monarche’s state, when a wife, a son, a kingdome
are _not_ trusted; and those only _are_ trusted, who had nothing strong
but a will to live and die with him!”... “The Queen, passing from
Oxford to Gloucester, onward to the siege of Bristol Castle, grew all
the whyle in her strength like a rouled snowball, or as a river, which
spreads still broader from the fountaine to the ocean--‘_vires acquirit
eundo_.’ For thither repayred to her, for the love of the young Prince,
the Lord Percy, the Lord Wake, and others, as well out of the North, as
the Marches of Wales. But Edward, having left the Earle of Winchester,
and the elder Lord Spenser, in the Castle of Bristol, for the keeping
thereof, meditates flight with a few into the isle of Lundie, in the
Severne sea, or into Ireland; and while he wandereth about, not finding
where to rest safe, his royall credite, name, and power--like a cliffe
which, falling from the top of some huge rocke, breakes into the more
pieces the further it rolles--are daily more and more diminisht as they
scatter, till now at last they are come to a very nothing.
“After a week, therefore, spent upon the sea, Sir Thomas Blount
forsaking him, and comming to the Queene he came on shore in
Glamorganshire, where, with his few friends, he entrusted himself to
God, and the faith of the Welsh, who indeed still loved him, lying
hidden among them in the Abbey of Neath.
“The King not appearing, proclamations were every day made in the
Queene’s army, declaring that it was the common consent of the realme
that he should returne and receive the government thereof, so as he
would conform himself to his people. This--whether stratagem or
truth--not prevailing, Henry, Earle of Lancaster, the late Earle’s
brother, Sir William de la Zouch, and Rhese-ap-Howell, a Welshman--who
all of them had lands in that quarter where the Kinge concealed
himselfe--were sent with coyne and forces to discover and take him.
“What will not money, diligence, and faire words doe, with corrupt
dispositions--everting of all bonds of either religious or civil duties?
By such means, therefore, the desolate, sad, and unfortunate Kinge fell
into his cousen of Lancaster’s hands, in the Abbey-house of Neath;” [or,
according to others, in the Castle of Llantrissant, a place of great
strength; but as the gates were thrown open by treachery, neither the
strength of the Castle nor the courage of those around him could avail
the royal victim,[400] doomed to expiate, it was supposed, the ruthless
cruelty of his father in massacring the bards.
“Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
The winding-sheet of Edward’s race;
Give ample room and verge enough,
The characters of Hell to trace.
Mark the year, and mark the night,
When Severn shall re-echo with affright,
The shrieks of death, through Berkeley’s roof that ring--
Shrieks of an agonizing King!”]
Richard de Greenvile,[401] the reputed founder of Neath Abbey, and lord
of the adjoining Castle, is thus noticed in the ‘Baronage of
England:’--“In the fourth of William Rufus, Jestin, the son of Gurgunt,
being lord of Glamorgan, Rees-ap-Theodore, prince of South Wales, made
war upon him; and that Jestin, discerning himself to be unable to make
defence, sent one Enyon, his servant, to Robert Fitz-Hamon,[402] then a
knight of the privy chamber to the King, for his aid, with large
promises of reward for his help. And that hereupon Robert, having
retained twelve knights, marched with what power they could all make
into Wales; and so joining with Jestin, slew Rees, and Conan, his son.
Furthermore, that after this victory, demanding his reward according to
the agreement so made with Enyon, and Jestin refusing to perform his
promise, the difference came to be tried by battle; and that Jestin
being therein slain, this Robert Fitz-Hamon had full possession of all
that territory.
“Whereupon, for reward to those twelve knights, with other his
assistants, he gave unto them divers castles and manors; and, as second
on the list, he gave to Richard de Greenvile the lordship of Nethe.”
Subjoined is a view of the Crypt of this once magnificent Abbey, which,
though long exposed to the wasting hand of Time, and the depredations of
enemies, is still a monument of early piety, upon which few pilgrims
will look unmoved, and no archæologist can survey without admiration.
[Illustration]
KIDWELLY CASTLE,
Carmarthenshire.
“For some brief passion
Are centuries of high splendour laid in dust,
And that eternal honour, which should live
Sun-like above the rock of mortal fame,
Changed to a mockery and a by-word.”
[Illustration: K]IDWELLY is supposed to have been erected by Rhys,
Prince of South Wales, at the close of the twelfth century; and even
now, after the lapse of five hundred years, it presents, in strength and
appearance, one of the most striking examples of feudal architecture in
Wales, where the science of castle-building attained the highest
perfection. The old town of Kidwelly, over which the Castle once threw
its protecting arms, is now ruinous; but a new Kidwelly, reared in
happier times, and thriving under the arts of peace, seems to cast a
glance of mingled pity and reproach upon the enormous fortress, whose
very existence in such a situation is a melancholy proof of barbarism
and bondage--
“When ‘might was right,’ and spear and brand
Subdued and meted out the land--
Demesnes, which he who built the strongest,
And only he, retained the longest.”
History.--Describing the situation of Kidwelly, the Chronicle says, “So
great is the bay or creek that here getteth within the land, that this
country seemeth, as it were, for very fear to have shrunke back, and
withdrawn itself more inwardly. The territory around this bay was held
for a time by Keiani the Scot’s sonnes, until they were driven out by
Cuneda, the Cambro-Briton, and is now counted part of the inheritance of
the Dutchy of Lancaster, by the heires of Maurice of London, or De
Londres, who, making an outroad hither out of Glamorganshire, after a
dangerous war, made himself master hereof, and
[Illustration: _Kidwelly Castle._]
fortified old Kidwelly with a wall and castle to it, which now for very
age is growen to decay, and standeth, as it were, forlet and forlorne:
for the inhabitants, having passed over the little river
Vendraeth-Vehan, built a new Kidwelly, enticed thither by the commodity
of the harbour, which, notwithstanding being at this day choked with
shelves and barres, is at this present of no great use. While Maurice de
Londres,” continues the Chronicle, “invaded these parts,
[Gwenliana,[403]] the wife of Prince Gruffin--a stout and resolute woman
in the highest degree--_ultimæ audaciæ mulier_--in order to recover the
losses and declining fortunes of her husband, came, with displaied
banner, into the field, and assailed him, but the successe of her
enterprise not answering to her courage, she, with her sonne Morgan, and
other men of especial note, was slaine in battle.
“By Hawes, or Avis, the daughter and heire of Sir Thomas de Londres,
this passing faire and large patrimony, together with the title of Lord
Ogmoor and Kidwelly, came unto Patrick Chaworth, and by his son
Patrick’s daughter, unto Henrie, Earle of Lancaster. Now the heires of
the said Maurice of London, as we learn from an old inquisition, for
this inheritance were bound to this service--namely, that if their
sovereign lord the King, or his Chiefe Justice, came into the parts
about Kidwelly with an armie, they should conduct the foresaid army,
with their banners and their people, through the mids of Nethland, as
far as to Loghar.”
The Castle is in a more perfect state than any other ruin in the
Principality: “meately well kept up,” says old Leland, “and veri faire
and double waullid;” having been repaired by Alice de Londres, wife of
one of the Dukes of Lancaster, and lastly in the reign of Henry the
Seventh. Its appearance is literally grand and imposing. The ruins
comprise a quadrangular area, enclosed by strong walls, defended by
massive circular towers at the angles, and also by bastions in the
intervals--as shown in the accompanying illustrations. The principal
entrance, which is at the west side, is under a magnificent gateway,
flanked by two round towers, and is still in good preservation. Many of
the state apartments are almost entire. Of these the groined ceilings,
in some instances, with other portions of the edifice, display many
interesting features of the early style of English architecture. The
chapel is sufficiently indicated in the engraving by its lancet-pointed
windows, and forms a noble and characteristic feature of this truly
majestic edifice.
Kidwelly is strongly situated, having on two sides a precipitous descent
to the river Gwendraeth, and few things are finer than the first view of
its massive and turreted bulwarks ranging along the summit of the cliff.
The principal entrance was on the west, by means of a gateway, flanked
by round towers, one of the most perfect and beautiful in the kingdom.
This, however, is now closed, and the visitor, after clambering up the
steep old street on the other side of the bridge, is conducted to an
entrance in the rear of the building, communicating with a “pleasaunce,”
or terrace promenade, now overgrown with noble trees. On entering the
interior, the extent and massiveness of the remains create a feeling of
astonishment. There were three courts divided by walls and towers; and
in the centre is a building defended by four other towers, the grouping
of which surpasses that of any other interior in Wales, unless, perhaps,
that of Pembroke.
“We then clambered on the ramparts, entered the chapel, adorned with
delicate lancet-pointed windows, and looked down from a dizzy height
upon the river Gwendraeth, which rolls its melancholy stream through the
marshy valley below. Altogether we were quite unprepared for the extent
and preservation of this magnificent fortress, and regretted much that
previous arrangements had left us so little time for its
exploration.”[404]
The view from the ramparts is extensive: the valley of the
Gwendraeth--the old town and its spire--the distant marshes and the
sea--all blend together, and form a grand but melancholy picture, which
harmonises with the feeling inspired by the aspect of the whole place
and neighbourhood--
“How grand, and beautiful, and vast,
Fortress and hall of ages past!
With battlement and turret crown’d,
And iron ramparts girdled round;
Whose shadow, stretching o’er the land,
Whose bulwarks, desolately grand,
Whose chambers, voiceless and forsaken,
A tide of mingled thoughts awaken,
And dreams of fancy that restore
The Barons and the Bards of yore,
When trumpet-peal, from turret wall,
Proclaimed the knightly festival.”--_MS._
The air of the place is considered salubrious and the town healthy; but
the importance which it formerly derived from its situation on the banks
of a fine navigable river, within half a mile of its influx into the
great bay of Carmarthen, has ceased--a reverse occasioned by an
accumulation of sand, which has formed a dangerous bar across the mouth
of the river. Its commerce, once flourishing, has consequently declined;
while the opening of collieries, and the establishment of copper-works
at Llanelly--to which port that of Kidwelly is a creek--have transferred
the trade to that place.
“The scale has shifted--freighted barks no more
Visit, with welcome sail, the lonely shore:
Unprofitable weeds usurp the strand--
The once wide port presents a mound of sand.
But these stout towers, defying time and tide,
Still o’er the scene in massive strength preside
Kidwelly’s walls, firm as the native rock,
Have braved, for centuries, the tempest-shock.”
Many fruitless attempts have been made to improve the navigation of the
river, by removing the obstructions alluded to. In 1766, some docks and
a short canal were constructed here. The navigation was afterwards
transferred to the “Kidwelly Canal Company,” by whom it was extended
about two miles up the valley of the Gwendraeth; and a branch, three
miles and a half in length, was constructed to communicate with Pembrey
harbour. Here were formerly both iron and tin works, the former of which
have been entirely abandoned, and the latter are continued only in a
diminished scale.
Kidwelly received its first charter of incorporation from King Henry VI.
James II., in the sixteenth year of his reign, granted to its
inhabitants their present charter, by which the government is vested in
a mayor, a recorder, two bailiffs, and a common council of twelve
aldermen, and twelve principal burgesses, assisted by a town-clerk,
chamberlain, two sergeants-at-mace, and other officers.
[Illustration: Ancient dwellings near Manorbeer Castle.--See Note, p.
327.]
LLANSTEPHAN CASTLE,
Carmarthenshire.
“Let them pass--
I cried: the world and its mysterious doom
Is not so much more glorious than it was,
That I desire to worship those who drew
New figures on its false and fragile glass,
As the old faced--phantoms ever new
Rise on the bubble, paint them as you may;
_We_ have but thrown--as some before us threw--
Our shadows on it as it passed away.
But mark how chained to the triumphal Cross
Were the great figures of an elder day!”
This Castle--one of the oldest in Wales--crowns a bold eminence
projecting into the bay of Carmarthen, and defends the entrance of the
river Towy, which falls into the sea at this point. It is a military
fortress of great strength and antiquity, but by whom founded--whether
by Roman or Briton--or to what precise era it belongs, are questions
which have never been satisfactorily answered. Yet the very obscurity
which hangs upon it imparts to its dilapidated walls, mouldering
turrets, and grass-covered courts, an interest which is seldom or never
felt in the survey of those castellated ruins which make a prominent
figure in the pages of history. All that has yet been advanced by
archæologists regarding the founder of Llanstephan, is only based on
plausible conjecture. It is not improbable, however, that the present
castle occupies the position of a Roman fort; for it is not to be
supposed that, during their occupation of the Silurian territory, a
situation presenting so many natural advantages, and commanding the
embouchure of the Towy, would be neglected by a people so prone to
conquest, and so circumspect in all the means that could secure and
fortify them in their new possessions. Nor were the Normans--who were
equally observant and expert in the distribution of their military
posts--likely to lose sight of the advantages which a castle on this
promontory would afford in facilitating their operations, and widening
their encroachments beyond the Welsh frontier; and in the citadel which
now covers the steep, we have ample
[Illustration: _Kidwelly Castle._
Inner Courts and Chapel from the Battlements.]
testimony, that whatever hands may have raised the first structure, that
which now occupies our attention is of Norman architecture.
The historical details of Llanstephan are meagre and unsatisfactory; we
would desire to learn the circumstances of siege and storm and
surrender, the acts of fortitude and valour which mutually distinguished
the besieged and their assailants, their patient endurance of
privations, their resolute and determined resistance, the nightly
assault, the treachery of professing allies, the regular investment by
open enemies, the daily skirmishes, the nightly advance, the scaling of
the walls, the final struggle, the throwing open of gates, the
dismantling of towers, with mingled traits of personal prowess,
magnanimity, and fortitude. But of these, history observes a mysterious
silence. We learn, however, that
Caddell, Meredydd, and Rhys, sons of Gryffyd-ap-Rhys[405]--the prince so
often named in these pages--having in 1143 succeeded in their enterprise
against Carmarthen Castle, were induced to make a similar attempt upon
Llanstephan, and, directing their march to that point, invested the
walls, and summoning the Norman garrison to surrender, were answered by
a message of contempt and defiance. This, however, served merely to
stimulate the Cambrian leaders into immediate action; for, after a
spirited resistance, they carried the fortress by storm or stratagem,
and planted their own countrymen within its walls. This daring exploit
was instantly reported to the Norman legions beyond the frontier, who
made all possible haste to vindicate the tarnished honour of the
garrison; and mustering all their available strength, soon made their
appearance under the walls of Llanstephan.
The consequence of this movement was a protracted siege, in the progress
of which everything promised a successful issue to the Normans. At last,
while the Cambrian garrison within did little more than regard their
operations with passive indifference, the signal was given to scale the
ramparts, and at the word every Norman flew to the assault. Meredydd,
however, was well prepared to give his unbidden guests a Welsh welcome;
and while the Normans, like swarming bees, were covering fosse and rock
with their numbers, he ordered a wedge to be struck home, and no sooner
was the hammer at work than an avalanche of rocks, suddenly let loose
from the highest point of the ramparts, overwhelmed the invaders, and
hurled the scaling party and their ladders into the ravine below. A
shout of derision followed them from the garrison above; operations on
both sides were suspended; and with their ranks thus suddenly thinned by
a catastrophe as unseen as it was disastrous, the Normans sullenly
withdrew. But it was only to return with increased strength and whetted
vengeance. They had sworn to extirpate the garrison at their next visit,
and the Norman leader was not a man to break his word whenever
stimulated by a thirst of revenge or plunder.
We need not dwell upon the skill and vigour of the besiegers, nor the
spirited resistance of the garrison. But, in the present instance, the
siege was conducted in a more regular and systematic method than
heretofore; they had recourse to all the appliances of military art. The
warlike engines employed against stubborn fortresses were now called
into perpetual action, and night and day the _butting_ of the
battering-rams continued to shake the ramparts, until here and there a
stone dropping from the mason-work, the whole ramparts began to shake
under the feet of the besieged. At length, a breach being effected, the
Normans poured in their best troops, and for a time the conflict was
maintained with desperate fury. Foot to foot the assailants met, fought,
and fell where they stood. Too proud to ask quarter, the fiery Cambrian
rushed upon his adversary with a blind impetuosity that often placed him
at his mercy; while the Norman, adroit in the management of his weapon,
and bent on revenging his countrymen, was only stimulated to
indiscriminate slaughter; and long before sunrise the Norman banner
waved on the Castle of Llanstephan.
In M.CC.XVI the fortune of war was again invoked. The Norman sway, so
intolerable to native independence, had extended its influence and
territory; and with these had inspired into the heart of every
reflecting Cambrian, a deep sense of the wrongs inflicted upon his
country. With an irrepressible and Wallace-like determination to crush
or expel the invader, he rushed to the conflict. This, so far as regards
Llanstephan, was partly effected by Llewelyn-ap-Iorwerth, who, after a
successful attack, entered the fortress, slew or captured the garrison,
and then, to prevent its being again turned against the peace of the
country, dismantled the walls, threw down the gates, filled up the
ditches, and left its towers for a habitation to the owls.
The position of the Castle, however, was too advantageous to be
neglected for more than a season: for, as war continued rampant along
the marches, the demand for garrisons increased; and Llanstephan was
again converted into a fortress, and crowded with troops. In this state
it appears to have continued until the year 1254. But in those days of
mutual hatred and jealousy--when neighbour plotted against neighbour,
and friendships cemented at morning were often changed, by some sudden
exasperation, into mortal enmities before night--the garrison of
Llanstephan could never remain unconcerned spectators of passing events.
Llewelyn-ap-Grufydd, whose name is so familiar in the Cambrian annals,
finding himself in a position to resent, to the very death, some
personal insult from the haughty castellan of Llanstephan, summoned his
countrymen to arms. “This offensive castle,” said he, “must be
demolished! Ye have true British hearts; and if your hands will only
obey those hearts, my countrymen, before two days elapse ye shall drive
your goats to pasture in the courtyard, of Llanstephan!”
This old Griffin kept his word--the raid was successful--his flag soon
waved over the battlements of the castle; and there we leave him for the
present to enjoy the fruits of his new seigneurie.
* * * * *
St. Anton’s Well, in the parish of Llanstephan, was long a place of
popular resort for invalids. Impregnated by some mysterious qualities
which escaped detection by the _ancient_ process of analysis, the water
was lauded as a never-failing resource under those forms of corporeal
malady which had baffled the skill of physicians, and conducted the
sufferer to the very brink of despair. It may, therefore, be imagined,
that the concourse of pilgrims was a source of no little emolument to
the place, more especially to the “hydropathic” friar of the olden day,
who presided at the well, and propitiated, for a consideration, the kind
offices of St. Anthony. But all the medicinal virtues of this holy well
are now left to the gossip of old tradition; and although the fountain
bubbles up as fresh, and clear, and salubrious as ever, public faith in
its qualities has been shaken; and no pilgrim, in these days of
scientific analysis, ever stoops down to taste the water, and, in
testimony of its virtue, leaves his crutch behind him.[406]
[Illustration]
LAUGHARNE CASTLE,
Carmarthenshire.
“Now strike ye the harp that has slumbered so long,
Till yon mountains re-echo the theme of my song!
Come forth, ye bold warriors, from forest and tarn,
And up with the banner of Guy of Laugharne!
The sound is gone forth--all the land is awake,
Swords flash in the valley, and spears in the brake;
And, gleaming in arms, at their head ye discern
The fearless in battle--bold Guy of Laugharne!”
[Illustration: T]OWARDS the south end of the town, close on the Bay of
Carmarthen, are the ruins of the Castle, supposed to have been founded
by Guido de Brian, in the reign of Henry III., or, according to others,
to have been rebuilt by him; for it is said that the original castle was
destroyed by Llywelyn-ap-Iorwerth as early as 1215. If so, the said
Guido de Brian rebuilt it in the following reign. The remains, which
have been many years enclosed within the walls of a private garden, and
consist of a large square building--now a mere shell--are still in
tolerable preservation. In this parish also are the ruins of what is
called Roche’s Castle, but which tradition reports to be those of a
monastery; though of what order, or epoch in the Cambrian annals, is not
ascertained. This monastic or feudal ruin stands about a mile from the
Castle of
Laugharne, the subject of our present notice. The ancient appellation of
this town and castle, according to the native writers, appears to have
been Llacharn, and seems to have taken its present orthography from the
general of that name--William Laughearne--who distinguished himself in
the service of the “Parliament;” and in 1644, after a siege of three
weeks, took the Castle of “Llacharn.” Its still more ancient name is
Abercoran, or Cowan--the “Castle on the banks of the Coran”--which, at a
short distance below the Castle, empties itself into the sea. Local
tradition says that the parish church formerly stood upon a farm, in an
island called Craseland--that is, Christ’s-land; but of the sacred
edifice, not a vestige remains to support the tradition--
“Not an arch of nave or aisle--
Not a relic marks the pile;
Shrine and monumental stone,
Floor and fretted vault are gone!”
The Corporation consists of a portreeve, a recorder, an indefinite
number of aldermen, two common attorneys, four constables, and
seventy-six burgesses, who have shares in lands and commons which were
given to the Corporation by “Sir Guido de Brian the younger, lord
marcher of the said town and lordship of Laugharne,” in the reign of
King John. “His cloak or mantle,” says Carlisle, “richly embroidered in
purple and gold, is still preserved in the parish church.” Laugharne, as
described by a recent tourist, is one of the neatest and cleanest of the
smaller towns of South Wales. It has many excellent dwelling-houses, a
good inn for the accommodation of travellers, and possessing various
local attractions and a cheap market, many private families have made
choice of it as a residence which unites pleasure and economy. The
situation is low and sheltered--bounded by the tidal estuary and the
Taff, which, at low water, presents a wide extent of dry land--an
amphibious territory, which the inconstant sea alternately invades and
deserts.
Guy de Brian--The founder of this name, and his successors, were all in
their day knights of military renown. Their chief seat was in these
marches, where, in the 29th Henry III., the first Guy received command
to assist the Earl of Gloucester in suppressing some new insurrection in
the country. Toward the close of the same reign, he had summons to
attend the king at Chester--well fitted with horse and arms--to “prevent
the incursions of that unruly people.” But not long after this, when the
breach betwixt the king and divers of the great barons happened, he
adhered unto them; for it appears that, after the battle of Lewes, where
the king was made prisoner by the barons, he was constituted by them
governor of the Castles of Cardigan and Kaermerdyn [or Carmarthen],
which commission was renewed the next ensuing year; he having then also
the like trust granted unto him by them for the Castle of Kilgaran. But
shortly after, when the battle of Evesham “had quelled the power of
those haughty spirits, he became one of the sureties for Robert de Vere,
then Earl of Oxford, that he should thenceforth demean himself
peaceably, and stand to the decree called ‘Dictum de Kenilworth,’ for
the redemption of his lands.”
Guy of Laugharne married Eve, daughter and heir of Henry de Traci, and
dying in the 31st Edward I. left a son--then in his twenty-fourth
year--named also Guy, who being a knight, in the 4th of Edward III., was
made governor of the Castle of Haverford. “But it was found by
inquisition, that he complained to the King that Roger de Mortimer,
late Earl of March, had made seizure of his Barony of Walwaynes Castle,
in the Co. Pemb., as also of the goods and stock thereon, and had
delivered them to Guyon his son without warranty. Likewise that the king
then took notice of certain differences betwixt the said Sir Guy and the
same Guyon, his son and heir, which were pacified in his presence, by
the assent of Wenthlian his wife, in regard that himself, at the time,
was not of sane memory. Moreover, that by this agreement the Barony of
Chastel-Walweyn was to remain to young Guyon and his heirs, on condition
that he should be obliged to prefer his two sisters out of the revenues
thereof: As also that two hundred pounds which Ioan de Carru was bound
to pay to him, the said Guy, for the marriage of his son Guyon, should
be paid to Guyon towards the marriage of those his sisters. And that
because the said Sir Guy was not in his perfect senses, the barony
should remain in the king’s hands, and livery thereof be made to Guyon
in performance of those covenants.” Sir Guy being thus out of his
senses--“I come,” says the Chronicle, “to
“Guy, his son, who was in the Scottish wars, and in consideration of his
special services had an annuity of forty pounds granted to him by the
king, to be paid out of the Exchequer during his life. In the 15th Edw.
III. he was made governor of St. Briavell’s, in Co. Gloc., and warden of
the Forest of Dene; and, in the following year, was again in the wars of
France. So likewise in the 19th and 20th, but died June 17, in the 23d
of the same reign, being then seized of Tallughern in the marches of
Wales, which he held by the service of finding two soldiers with horses
harnessed; or eight footmen--according to the custom of those parts--for
three days at his own proper cost, upon notice given by the king’s
bayliffe of Kaermerdyn [Carmarthen].”
Guy, his son and heir, was at the time of his father’s demise turned
thirty years of age, and became a person of very great note in his time.
He was standard-bearer to the King in that notable fight with the French
at Calais, 23d Edw. III.; and there behaving himself with great courage
and valour, had, in recompense thereof, a grant of two hundred merks per
annum out of the Exchequer during his life, He obtained a charter for
free-warren in all his demesne lands, as well as at Tallughern, &c.; and
being still governor of St. Briavell’s, and warden of Dene Forest, he
had a grant of all the profits and emoluments arising out of the market
and fairs in that town. He was also constituted one of the commissioners
for arraying men in the counties of Oxon and Berks, for defence of the
realm against the French, who then threatened an invasion. But as our
limits will not admit of our giving his public services in detail, we
shall merely record them as they were successively performed in the same
brilliant reign:--He was, with Henry, Duke of Lancaster, sent on an
embassy to the Pope: attending the King in France, he was made a
banneret: he was again in the same war, and sent a second time to Rome:
afterwards pensioned anew for his services: made admiral of the King’s
fleet, then acting against the French, and constituted, the year
following, admiral of the Royal fleet from Southampton westwards:
employed in the Scottish wars: associated with the Earl of Warwick and
others to cause “satisfaction to be done by the King’s subjects to the
Scots:” was elected into the most noble Order of the Garter: served
again in the wars of France: was appointed one of the commissioners to
treat with the Duke of Brittany and Earl of Montfort for a league of
friendship with King Richard; and lastly, joined Mortimer, Earl of
March, in the expedition into Ireland. This concludes his military
services; but while he had proved himself a valiant son of Mars, and a
faithful servant of the King, he was a pious son and liberal benefactor
of the Church, in witness whereof he “founded a chauntry for four
priests, to sing divine service in the chappel of Our Ladye within his
mannor of Slapton, Co. Dev., and endowed the same with lands,” &c. He
married Elizabeth, daughter of William de Montacute, Earl of Salisbury,
and widow of Hugh le Despenser the third, and departed this life on
Wednesday next after the Feast of the Assumption, 14th Rich. II.,
leaving Philippa,[407] wife of John Devereux, and Elizabeth, wife of
Robert Lovel, daughters of his son Guy, who died in his father’s
lifetime, to be his next heirs to the demesne of Laugharne and other
baronies.--_Dugdale._
[Illustration]
CAREW CASTLE.
Pembrokeshire.
“Now is the stately column broke--
The beacon-light is quench’d in smoke;
The trumpet’s silver note is still;
The warder silent on the hill.”
The lordly towers and quadrangular pile of Carew Castle rise
conspicuously above the waters of the surrounding creek, and are
intimately connected in the spectator’s mind with scenes of bygone
splendour.[408] It was one of the demesnes belonging to the sovereign
Princes of South Wales, and, with seven others, was given as a dowery to
Nesta, daughter of Rhys-ap-Tewdwr, or Tudor, on her marriage with Girald
de Windsor, who, as already mentioned, was appointed by Henry I.
lieutenant of these counties. His son William took the name of Carew,
and the castle passed through various branches of that family, until,
after the lapse of centuries, it was garrisoned for Charles I., and
reduced at last, like all its neighbours, by the irresistible hand of
Cromwell. The noble edifice is built upon a neck of land washed by the
tide of two estuaries, with a gentle fall towards the water, and
consists of a superb range of apartments, round a quadrangle, with an
immense bastion at each corner, containing handsome chambers. Most of
the rooms had each an elegant chimney-piece of wrought freestone. The
barbican may still be traced; and through the portcullised gateway we
pass into the great court, or inner ballium. The ground rooms of the
north front contain magnificent windows, lighting the great state-room,
which is one hundred and two feet long, by twenty feet wide. On the east
side, over the chimney-piece, is an escutcheon, bearing the royal arms,
in compliment, perhaps, to Henry the Seventh--Richmond,--who is
traditionally reported to have been munificently lodged and entertained
here, on his way to Bosworth Field, by the princely Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas,
lord of the mansion. A handsome suite of rooms is included in the
octagon tower, which covers the right of the entrance; and along the
whole course of the south-west side are seen the remains of ancient
towers, of various height, diameter, and form. The whole of the north
side is very majestic, ending in the return of a bastion to the east.
The building is of various epochs--combining the stronghold with the
ornamented and castellated mansion. Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, according to
Leland, new-modelled the whole, and added the splendid range of state
apartments which are the admiration of every traveller in these parts.
[Illustration]
In the extensive deer-park attached to the castle, Sir Rhys held a grand
tilt and tournament on St. Giles’s day, in honour of his receiving the
royal badge of a Knight of the Garter. This splendid festival, we are
told, lasted a week, and was attended by six hundred of the aristocracy
of Wales--such were the splendid pageantries, and such the numerous
courtly throng, that once animated and emblazoned the kingly halls of
Carew. “This festivall and time of jollitie continued the space of five
dayes,” as the historian relates; “and tentes and pavillons were pitched
in the parke, neere to the castle, for the spectators of these rare
solemnities, wheare they quartered all the time, every man according to
his qualities.”
Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, lord of this and many other castles, was descended
from Rhys-ap-Twdor, of the royal house of South Wales; and had been
appointed governor of these counties by Richard III. One of his
residences was Abermarles, in the county of Carmarthen--a princely
mansion in its time, and called by Leland, “a faire house of old Sir
Rees’s.” Newcastle-in-Emlyn, in the same county--once belonging to the
princes of Dynevwr, and celebrated in Cambro-British history--was also
his property, and often honoured with his presence.
By Sir Edward Carew the castle was mortgaged to Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, who
made it his favourite residence, and there spent the latter part of his
life. The Bishop of St. David’s, then a constant resident at Lamphey,
induced Sir Rhys to prefer Carew to his other demesnes; for they were
devoted friends, and spent much time in the society of each other. In
the following reign his vast possessions and castellated mansions were
forfeited by the attainder of his grandson, Rice Griffith. Abermarles
was granted by the crown to Sir Thomas Jones, Knt.; thence by marriage
it passed to Sir Francis Cornwallis, whose son leaving issue four
daughters, and the three youngest married, the estate was divided in
1793 among their descendants. Abermarles came to Lord Viscount Hawarden,
who disposed of the mansion, demesne, park, and manor, to the gallant
Admiral Foley, who led the fleet into action at the battle of the Nile;
commanded the Britannia in Lord St. Vincent’s action, and on board whose
ship Nelson shifted his flag at the battle of Copenhagen. He built a
magnificent mansion near the site of the old house. Emlyn and its
extensive demesnes became the property of the Vaughans of Golden
Grove--whose ancestors were successively Lords of Mollingar, Earls of
Carbery, and Lords of Emlyn--and are now the property of Lord Cawdor, as
devisee of the late “J. Vaughan, of Golden Grove, Esquire.”
Carew, with its castle and barony, was granted by leases, for specified
terms, to Sir J. Perrot and others, the remainder of which terms was
purchased by Sir John Carew, kinsman of Sir Edmund above-mentioned, to
whom Charles the First restored the fee simple and inheritance, from
whom it descended to the present owner.[409]
MARGAM ABBEY,
Glamorganshire.
“How many hearts have here grown cold,
That sleep these mouldering stones among!
How many beads have here been told--
How many Matins here been sung!”
Of this renowned Abbey the existing remains convey but a very inadequate
idea. The parish church is formed out of part of the original
abbey-church; of the chapter-house the walls only remain; and of the
ruins scattered around, the original use, size, and distribution have
not yet been ascertained. That it was an extensive edifice, and
exhibited in its style and proportions all the higher characteristics of
Cistercian monasteries, may be taken on the credit of what remains. The
foundation is fixed in the year 1147, and the process of erection must
have been contemporaneous with that of Tinterne--a temple of the same
Order, whose taste and affluence, during that and the following century,
have left so many gorgeous monuments in England and Wales.
Dugdale fixes the date of Margam Abbey in the year 1147. It was founded
by Robert, Earl of Gloucester--so often named in this work--and
dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. In this, also, the annals of
Margam--written by a monk of the Abbey--agree, and mention the date of
its foundation as that of the year in which the founder departed this
life. The chronicle, printed in the second volume of Gale’s Scriptores,
called “Annales de Margam,” is a history of general scope, extending
from the year of the Conquest to that of 1232, and throws but little
light upon the particular affairs of the Monastery in which it was
written. It is a history of the _times_, not of the Abbey. It gives the
names, however, of four abbots, mentions three or four incursions of the
Welsh, and remarks that Margam and Beaulieu in Hampshire were the only
monasteries among the Cistercians that were released from King John’s
extortions in 1210, to which reference has been already made in our
notice of Tinterne. The plea upon which Margam escaped these severe
taxations was, that, both in his progress to and from Ireland, the King
and his suite had been liberally entertained by the abbot and monks of
Margam.
With respect to the inroads noticed in these “Annals,” we are told
that--“This year, M.C.LXI, in the month of October, the Welsh burnt down
our granary or barn; an act which was quickly followed by divine
vengeance.” Again, “In M.CC.XXIII, (he says,) in the course of one week,
wicked men have destroyed upwards of a thousand of our sheep, with two
houses. In the following year they wantonly slew two of our servants in
one day, while engaged in the performance of their duty; and also,
immediately thereafter, a youth who had charge of the flock.” But the
fourth irruption was still more serious; for “they burnt to the very
ground our grange at Penwith, with many cattle, including the steers;
they next depopulated the grange of Rossaulin, burnt many sheep, drove
off the cows, and put one of our servants wantonly to death; they then
took the cattle of the grange of Theodore Twdor, killed many on the
road, took the rest with them. Lastly, they set fire to the Abbey houses
in different places, and great were the flocks that perished in the
flames.”--_Annal. de Marg. Scriptores a T. Gale_, tom. ii. pp. 7, 16,
17.
Leland ascribes to this Abbey the privilege of sanctuary: “Habet
privilegium sanctuarii, sed quo rarissime aut nunquam utuntur Cambri--”
but of which the natives very rarely or never made any use. According to
the same authority, Margam Abbey had four daughter-houses in Ireland,
namely--Kyrideyson, S. Crux, Maio, and Chorus Benedictus.
Abbots.--William, the first Abbot, died in M.C.LIII; Andrew, the second,
two years later; and it was probably in the short time of the latter, or
that of his successor, that the altar of the Holy Trinity in the abbey
church was consecrated by William, Bishop of Llandaff. Gilbert, the
third Abbot, resigned in July, M.CC.XIII, died the following year at
Kirksted, and was succeeded by Abbot John, of whom nothing is recorded
by the annalist.
A large collection of original charters belonging to this Abbey is still
preserved with the Harleian manuscripts in the British Museum. The
common seal of the Abbey, appendant to a deed, dated 1518, has been
elegantly lithographed, as we read in the Monasticon, by the care of the
Rev. W. Traherne. At the Dissolution, the sum total of the revenues of
Margam Abbey amounted to one hundred and eighty-eight pounds, fourteen
shillings sterling; the clear income to seven pounds less. The site was
granted by the King to Sir Rees Maxwell, Knt. The Abbey was afterwards
the seat of Thomas, Lord Mansell; and passed afterwards into the Talbot
family. In early times the buildings of this Abbey are described as
affording specimens of the richest style of conventual architecture. But
these characteristics are no longer applicable to the, ruins before us;
for time and the quarry-man, probably, have done much to deface the
beauty and even form of the original structure.
[Illustration: Crypt--Margam Abbey.]
[Illustration: APPENDIX.]
Osborne, p. 6.--Walter, a Norman knight, and a great favourite of
William the Conqueror, was one summer evening playing at chess with the
King, and after a time won all he played for. The King then threw down
the board, and with his usual oath exclaimed he had nothing more to
lose. Walter, however, being of a different opinion, replied--“Sir, here
is land.” “True,” said the King; “and if thou beatest me this time,
thine be all the land on this side the bourne or river which thou canst
see where thou now standest.” This said, to it they went once more, and
knight Walter again won the game, whereupon the King, starting up and
slapping him on the shoulder, said, “Henceforth thou shalt be called
Ousebourne.” And hence, it is supposed, came the name afterwards so
famous.--[Life of Corinni, Pegge’s Curialia Miscellanea, p. 319. Lower,
156.]
Tinterne, p. 53.--The drinking after Complins of the prioress of Rumsey
has crept into all our familiar books. Among the injunctions to the
convent of Appleton, anno. 1489, is the following:--“_Item_, That none
of your sisters use the _ale-house_, nor the water syde, where course of
strangers dayly resorte.” In another it was inquired: “Whether any of
the susters doe cherish theme moste that have any monye, and causeth
them to spende the same, when they be within, at good ale, or
otherwise?” _Item._--“Whether any of the susters be commonlye drunke?”
There were, however, many honourable exceptions. Pensions were granted
at the Dissolution according to the character of the monastic brothers
and sisters, which it was the business of the King’s visitors to
investigate; and recommend when approved. Rahdal Wylmyston, monk of
Norton, they pronounced to be “a good, religious man, discreet, and
well-grounded in learning--having many good qualities.” The nunnery of
Legborne petitioned to be preserved, saying--“We trust in God, ye shall
here no complaints against us, nether in our living nor
hospitalitie-keeping.”--[_See Fosb., quoting M.S. Cott., Cleop._ E. iv.,
370, B.]
TINTERNE, p. 57.--That the learning of those times was rather scanty,
even among the higher ecclesiastics, we have the testimony of
Pitscottie:--Forman, who succeeded to the archbishopric of St.
Andrew’s--on the death of his predecessor at the battle of Flodden--owed
his sudden rise to the partiality of Pope Leo X. Being then at Rome, the
new archbishop thought it decorous to give a banquet to his Holiness and
the dignitaries of his court, before setting out on his journey
homeward. “When the dinner came up,” says the historian, “the Pope and
cardinals placed, and sat down according to their estate; then the use
and custom was, that, at the beginning of the meat, he that aught
[owned] the house, and made the banquet, should say grace and bless the
meat. And so they required the holy bishop to say the grace, who was not
a good scholar, and had not good Latin, but began rudely in the Scottish
fashion in this manner, saying--‘_Benedicite_,’ believing that they
should have answered, _Dominus_. But they answered _Dans_, in the
Italian fashion, which put this noble bishop bye his intendiment, that
he wist not how to proceed forward; but happened out, in good Scottish,
in this manner, the which they understood not, saying--‘To the devil I
give ye all, fause carles, in nomini Patriæ, Filii, and Spiritus
Sancti!’ Amen, quoth they! Then the bishop and his men leugh. And the
bishop shewed the Pope the manner that he was not a good clerk, and his
cardinals had put him bye his intendiment, and therefore he gave them
all to the devil in good Scottish; and then the Pope leugh among the
rest.”--[_Pitscottie, Hist. Scotl._ p. 166, 299], quoted by Morton.
TINTERNE, p. 76.--Wyat, who was attached to the Reformers, before their
tenets were openly proclaimed in this country, is said to have
accelerated the downfall of monastic institutions by the following
jest:--During a conversation with the King on the projected suppression
of monasteries, Henry observed to the poet that he foresaw great alarm
would be caused throughout the country if the Crown were to resume the
immense property then accumulated by the church. Wyat, who saw that this
scruple might produce hesitation, and perhaps obstruction in the
measures then in progress, replied with a suggestion--“True, your
highness; but what if the rooks’ nests were buttered?” Henry, it is
said, took the hint, and, by distributing valuable church lands among
the nobility, diminished the danger and odium of an enterprise at once
so daring and unpopular.
Raglan, p. 132.--David Gam, the Fluellin of Shakspeare, and whose name
has been already noticed in the article on Raglan, was the son of
Llewelyn ap Howel Vychan, of Brecknock, by Maud, daughter of Lefan ap
Rhys ap Ivor ap Elvel. The residence of this celebrated warrior was Old
Court, the site of which is in a field adjoining Llandeilo-Cresseny
House, midway between Abergavenny and Monmouth. David Gam, being the
officer sent to reconnoitre the French army before the battle of
Agincourt, said to the King on his return--“An’t please you, my liege,
they are enough to be killed, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough
to ran away.” In this battle, David, with his son-in-law, Roger Vychan
[Vaughan], and his relative, Walter Lloyd, rescued the King when
surrounded by his foes--saved his life at the expense of their own--and
out of the eighteen French cavaliers slew fourteen.
The King, after this signal victory, approached the spot where they lay
in the agonies of death, and bestowed on them the only reward that could
then be paid to their valour--to wit, the honour of knighthood.
Shakspeare, as we have observed, designated this fiery soldier by the
name of Fluellin. He resided often at Peytyn-Gwyn, near Brecon, and many
of his descendants at Tregaer; others of the family were buried in
Christ’s Church, Brecon. There are almshouses in the parish of St.
David’s, Brecon, with a portion of garden-ground attached to each, given
by one of the Games or Gams of Newton, for thirteen female
inmates--decayed housekeepers in the town of Brecon.--[_Owen Glendower,
by Thomas._]
In our notice of the Founders of Raglan, from other historical sources,
this David is named Sir Richard Gam, whose daughter, after the loss of
her husband, Sir Roger Vaughan, at Agincourt, espoused Sir William ap
Thomas, the knight of Raglan.
RAGLAN, p. 174.--_Inter Carolinum_--the King’s route after Naseby fight.
June 14. Battle of Naseby, 1645.
15. Lichfield--at the governor’s in the close.
Mond. 16. Mrs. (Widow) Barnford’s, Wolverhampton.
17. The “Angel” at Bewdley (two nights), 17th and 18th.
19. Dined at Bramyard, supped at Hereford (and remained).
July 1. (Tuesday) To Campson, dinner, Mr. Pritchard’s--to Abergavenny,
supper, at Mr. Guncer’s (staid second).
3. To Raglan, supper, Marquis of Worcester, remained till
Wed. 16. To Tridegur, to dinner--Cardiff, supper, Sir T. Timel’s--defrayed
at the country’s charge.
18. Back to Raglan to dinner, remained till
22. To Mr. Moore’s of the Creek, near Black Rock, and came back to
supper at Raglan.
“The Scots approach, and our own causeless apprehension of fear made us
demur and doubt; on the first, what to resolve; and in the latter, how
to steer our resolutions, which involved us in a most disastrous
condition.
Thurs. 24. From Raglan to Mr. Moore’s of the Creek, to pass over at the Black
Rock for Bristol; but his Majesty, sitting in council, and advising
to the contrary, marched only with his own servants and
troops that night to Newport-on-Usk; lay at Mrs. Pritty’s.
25. To Ruppera, Sir Philip Morgan’s (rested).
Tues. 29. To Cardiff, dinner at the governor’s, at our own charge.
Aug. 5. (Tuesday) To Glancayah, Mr. Pritchard’s, dinner.
Wed. 6. To Gumevit, Sir Henry Williams’, dinner.
“ To Old Radnor, supper, a yeoman’s house.
“ The Court dispersed.
Thurs. 7. Ludlow Castle, to dinner, Colonel Woodhouse’s.
Sept. 7. (Sunday) Raglan Castle, supper. 8th, Abergavenny.
Sund. 14. ib. supper.
Mond. 15. Marched halfway to Bramyard, but there was _leo in intinere_, and so
back to Hereford again.”--[Extract from the “_Itinerarium_.”]
RAGLAN LIBRARY, p. 195.--The havoc and devestation of the ancient
British MSS. is a subject of continual regret to the historian,
antiquary, and general scholar. Bangor-is-Coed, according to Laugharne
and Humphrey Llwyd, was furnished with a valuable library, which was
burnt to ashes by Edelfrid, when he massacred its inmates, and destroyed
the college--not much less, as Bishop Lloyd asserts, than one of our
present universities. A chest of records, appertaining to the see of St.
David’s, was destroyed by a flood; and great part of the MSS. of British
authors were burnt during the civil wars.
In those calamitous times, when monuments of taste and literature were
destroyed or defaced by miscreants more ignorant and rapacious than
Goths and Vandals, the superb library at Raglan Castle met with the same
fate as other splendid establishments, when objects of military spoil or
fanatical rage. In an age comparatively learned, the monks termed all
ancient MSS. _vetusta et inutilia_; and little attention, we have reason
to believe, was paid by the visitors at the Dissolution--mostly ill
qualified for the task--to discriminate between true history and Romish
legends, to select and preserve works of merit, and to reject the trash
hoarded up by superstition.--[_Fenton’s Pemb.; Mem. Owen Glendower, Rev.
T. Thomas_, 29.]
RAGLAN, p. 221.--Oldcastle was the dissolute companion of Henry V. when
Prince of Wales, and afterwards a Wickliffite and reformer. He was
sacrificed by his youthful companion to an ecclesiastical bribe,
condemned and executed for heresy and rebellion. Lord Orford observes,
that Cobham was the first author, as well as the first martyr among our
nobility: a man whose virtues made him a reformer; whose valour, a
martyr; whose martyrdom, an enthusiast. He was suspended by a chain
fastened round his waist, over a slow fire. The bringing him to the
stake was considered a meritorious affair in those times of gross
superstition. The lordship of Broniarth was granted to the family of
Tanad, the fifth of Henry V.; and other gentlemen enjoyed several
privileges from Edward Charleton, Lord Powys, for the assistance they
gave in the apprehension of Oldcastle, whose son-in-law, Sir John Gray,
brought him a prisoner to London; and for this service, Lord Powys
received the thanks of Parliament. Oldcastle, the residence of Lord
Cobham, is situated on the slope of the Black Mountains, near the road
to Longtown, and about four miles from Llanfihangel. The old castle was
demolished, and a farm-house constructed from the materials.
--[_Owen Glendower_, p. 122.]
Pembroke Castle, p. 300.--Welsh bards are thus apostrophized by
Drayton:--
“Oh, memorable Bards! of unmix’d blood, which still
Posterity shall praise for your so wondrous skill;
That in your noble songs the long descents have kept
Of your great heroes, else in Lethé that had slept
With theirs, whose ignorant pride your labours have disdained,
How much from time and them, how bravely you have gained.
‘Musician,’ ‘herald,’ ‘bard,’ thrice mayest thou be renowned!
And with three several wreaths immortally be crowned!
Who, when to Pembroke called, before the English king,
And to thy powerful harp commanded there to sing,
Of famous Arthur told’st, and where he was interred,
In which those ‘retchless’ times had long and blindly erred.
And ignorance had brought the world to such a pass,
As now, which scarce believed that Arthur ever was!
But when King Henry sent the reported place to view,
He found that man of men, and what thou said’st was true.
Here, then, I cannot choose but bitterly exclaim
Against those fools that all _Antiquity_ defame;
Because they have found out some credulous ages laid
Slight fictions with the truth, whilst truth on rumour staid.
And that our forward times (perceiving the former neglect
A former of her had), to purchase her respect,
With toys then trimmed her up, the drowsy world to allure,
And lent her what it thought might appetite procure.
To man, whose mind doth still variety pursue,” &c., 217
.
So did Mars reverence the Muses, that, if a Welsh bard struck his harp
at the moment of encounter, the hostile spirit pervading both armies was
suddenly subdued; their swords were returned bloodless to the scabbards;
and they who had come forth to mutual slaughter, united in the song of
peace and goodwill to men.
PEMBROKE, p. 301.--“The castel,” says Leland, “standith hard by the
waull on a hard rocke, and is verie large and strong, being doble
warded. In the utter warde I saw the chambre where Kinge Henri VII. was
borne, in knowledge whereof a chyromancy is now made with the armes and
badges of this kinge. In the botome of the great stronge rownd tower in
the inner ward, is a marvellus vault called the Hogan. The top of this
rownd tower is gathered with a rofe of stone, almost in _conum_; the
topp whereoff is keverid with a flat mille stone.”
The outer ward, here mentioned, was entered from the tower by a grand
gateway, yet standing, of prodigious strength, and defended by two round
towers, one on each side.
PEMBROKE, p. 302.--The small remains of the Ely Tower, in Brecknock
Castle, still exist. The fate of Morton and Buckingham, though their
views were similar, were very unlike. Morton was meritoriously elevated
to the dignities of a Cardinal, and Archbishop of Canterbury, for his
services: while Buckingham was intercepted, and lost his head at
Salisbury.[410] He discovered, too late, that tyrants pull down those
scaffolds which elevated them to power. His son Edward was restored by
Henry VII., but through the machinations of Wolsey fell into disgrace,
and was beheaded by Henry VIII. for the whimsical alleged crime of
consulting a _wizard_ about the succession. When the Emperor Charles V.
heard of his death, he observed--“A butcher’s dog has torn down the
finest buck in England.”[411]
PEMBROKE, p. 303.--On the 7th of December, 1780, the following letter
from the Lord Bishop of St. David’s, and the Justices of the County of
Pembroke, to the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, was read at the Society of
Antiquaries of London, being copied from the “Scrinia Burleighiana,”
Vol. 79, No. 3, then in the library of James West, Esq., at Alscot.
By this letter is seen the great importance attached to Pembroke, both
as a fortress, a seaport, a safe bay, and a productive soil, but at that
time quite unprotected against foreign invasion. It runs thus:--
“Right Honorable our singular good Lorde.--The bounden dutie we owe to
her Maᵗⁱᵉ, the consience we have for safegarde of the whole Realme, and
the care that in nature and reason wee carry of this our countrie, have
emboldened us to offer this Discourse unto yʳ Honʳ. concerninge the
safetie of them and us all. It becometh us not to feare, neither do we
doubte of the wise and grave consideracon that yʳ Lp. and the rest of
the LLˢ. moste honourable privie counsaill, have had, and still have,
for yᵉ preservacon of her Maᵗⁱᵉ and the realme; but yett, fearing yʳ
want of due informacon touching the estate of Mylforde Haven, and the
p’tes adjoining, It may please you to understande that yᵉ Haven itself,
being neyther barred to hynder entrie, nor to be embayed by anye wyndes
to lett yssuinge forthe, is a sufficient harborough for an infynite
number of Ships; wᶜʰ haven beying once gotten by the enemye, maie drawe
on such fortificacon of Pembrock Towne and Castle, and the Towne and
Castle of Tynby, with other places nere unto yᵐ, as infynite nombers of
men, and greate expense of treasure, will hardely in a long tyme remove
the enemye, during which tyme her Maᵗⁱᵉ shall loose a fertyle countrey,
wᶜʰ yeldes her Maᵗⁱᵉ xii. lib. by yeere, and more in revenue paide to
her Maᵗⁱᵉ’ˢ Receaver, besides all other Receipts, both temporal and
ecclesiasticall, as tenthes, subsidies, &c.
“Also, it is to be remembred that the soyle nere the sayde haven yeldeth
corn in such aboundance, as wolde suffice to maynteigne a greate armye:
and the sea coasts nere about it yelde greate plenty of fishe. The
harbour also standeth very commodiouslye to receave victualls from
Ffrance, Brytaine, or Spayne, all wᶜʰ things maie be an occasion to move
the enemye to affect that place beffore others.
“Also, there are in Pembrockshire xviii. castles, of wᶜʰ tho’ there be
but twoe or three in reparacon, yett are the rest places of greate
strength, and easylie to be fortyfied by the enemye; some of wᶜʰ are so
seated naturally for strength, as theye seeme ympregnable.
“Also, there are in that shire dyvers sconces or forts of earth, raysed
in greate height wᵗʰ greate rampiers and dytches to the number of vi. or
vii., wᶜʰ in tymes past have been places of strength in tyme of war: All
wᶜʰ castles and forts wolde yelde greate advantage to the enemyes to
strengthen themselves in such sorte, that it wolde be an infynite charge
to remove them from thence. Agayne, the same is situate within vii.
hours sailing of Waterforde and Wexforde, in Yrelande; so as yf the
enemye have an intencon to invade Yrelande, his harborough in this haven
maie serve him to greate purpose.
“Ffurthermore, being lorde, as it weare, of thease seas, by possessing
this harbour, what spoile he maie make along Seaverne on both sides,
even to Bristoll, maie be easelie conjectured. And if he--wᶜʰ God
forbidd--shᵈ enjoye Brytanie withall, our Englishe marchants can have no
trade, wᶜʰ will decrease her Highness’ customes and decaie the navy.
“If it be thought that he may be kept from landinge, neyther the force
of men, nor furniture here, will serve the turne; considering here be
manie places where he may easelie land, and he maie com upon us within
half a daie’s saylinge, we having no ships at sea to descry hym
sooner--and how then our small forces may be in a readyness to
withstande hym, wee referr to yʳ Honʳ’ˢ judgment. And if it be thought
that her Maᵗⁱᵉ’ˢ Navy Royall be able to conquer them being once in this
haven, and that by them fortyfied, yt woulde be founde very harde, by
reason that, uppon every little storme, they shall be in greate danger
of wrack, and no lande forces are able to expell them: Whereupon we
humblie praie yʳ Lp. to consider whether it be not expedient for the
withstanding of the enemye, that he obtayne not this harborough, to have
a convenient number of ships of warr, and fortyficacons to defende the
same, wᶜʰ preparacon, if the enemye might perceave, wee beleve verelie
it woulde alter his mynde from adventuringe his navy uppon this coaste.
And whereas, of late, Mr. Pawle Ivye was sent hither to survey yᵉ Haven,
and to consider of fitt places for fortyficacon, what report he hath
made of his opinyon wee know not: but sure wee are, that his abode about
that service was verie short, and his survey verie speedilie dispatched;
so that, because none of us were privye to his entennt or conceyte, wee
do yet retayne some hope that, if some other man of experience were
sentt downe hither, to consider of all the said circumstances, some such
report woulde happlie be made unto yʳ Honʳ. and the reste, as some
better event might ensue for the safetie of this poore countrey, and the
whole realme, than as yett, for ought we knowe, hath beene determined
uppon: especiallie yf the partie shall have instruccons to viewe the
Towne and Castle of Tynby, being a place wᶜʰ may be easelie made of
exceedinge strenth, and was not seene by Mr. Ivye nearer than two myles
distance, for aught that we can learne....”
PEMBROKE CASTLE.--“Of William Earl of Pembroke,” says Clarendon, “a
short story may be here not unfitly inserted:--It being very frequently
mentioned by a person of known integrity, whose character is here
undertaken to be set down, and who, at that time, being on his way to
London, met, at Maidenhead, some persons of quality, of relation or
dependence upon the Earl of Pembroke. These were Sir Charles Morgan,
commonly called ‘General’ Morgan, who had commanded an army in Germany,
and defended Stoad; Dr. Field, then Bishop of St. David’s; and Dr.
Chafin, the Earl’s then chaplain in his house, and much in his favour.
At supper, one of them drank a health to the Lord Steward;[412] upon
which another of them said, that he believed his lord was at that time
very merry, for he had now outlived the day which his tutor, Sandford,
had prognosticated, upon his nativity, he ‘would not outlive.’ But he
had done it now, for that was his birthday, which completed his age to
fifty years. The next morning, however, by the time they came to
Colebrook, they met with the news of his death!” [He died “exceedingly
lamented by men of all qualities, and left many of his dependents and
servants owners of good estates, raised out of his employments and
bounty.”]
* * * * *
Benedictine Rule.--The Abbot is presumed to represent Jesus Christ: he
is authorised to summon all his monks to council in important affairs,
and afterwards to adopt and carry into practice what he considers the
best advice. He is entitled to obedience without delay; commands
silence; permits no scurrility, idle or angry words, or such as tend to
provoke unseemly mirth or laughter. The rule enjoins humility, patience,
and forbearance, under all injuries and provocations; manifestation or
confession of secret faults to be made to the Abbot; contentment with
the meanest things in food, dress, and employments; not to speak unless
when asked; to observe habitual gravity; to keep the head and eyes
inclined downwards to the earth; to rise to church service two hours
after midnight; the Psalter to be sung through once a week; to leave the
church together, at a sign from the Superior; and in large abbeys every
ten monks to be under the surveillance of a Dean.
[Illustration]
Further: The Rule permits light in the dormitory; to sleep, young and
old, in their clothes, with their girdles on, as servants ready to
attend their Lord, come he at what hour he may. Upon cases of
delinquency, where admonition has failed to produce reformation, public
reprehension and excommunication are pronounced, and on failure of these
also to effect a change, recourse is to be had to corporal chastisement.
For faults of a lighter nature, the offender is subjected to the smaller
and temporary excommunication of eating alone, after the brotherhood
have finished; but for graver offences, the delinquent is banished from
the public table, excluded from prayer and society, neither himself nor
his food to receive the benediction, and those who join or speak to him
to be placed under the ban of excommunication. In the meantime the
Abbot, with paternal solicitude for his penitence and restoration,
deputes certain of the elder brethren to exhort him to humility, and to
make such reparation and satisfaction as the infringement of the rule
demands. The whole congregation meanwhile are to pray for him. If all
these means should fail to attain the object in view, the last step to
be taken is that of formal expulsion from the convent; and no person so
expelled can be received back after the third expulsion. Children are to
be punished by fasting or whipping.
The Cellarer is to do nothing without the Abbot’s order; and in large
houses he is allowed to have assistants. Habits and goods of the house
to be under the custody of proper officers, and the Abbot to have an
account of them. There is to be no [private] property: distribution of
things needful, to be made according to every one’s necessities. The
monks are to serve weekly, and by turns, in the kitchen and at table.
Upon having their weeks, both he that left it, and he that began it, to
wash the feet of the others; on Saturdays, to clean all the plates, and
the linen used in the washing of feet; to replace all the dishes clean
and whole in the hands of the Cellarer, who is to give them to the new
Hebdomadary. These officers are to have drink and food before the
others, and above the common allowance, so that they may wait upon them
with cheerfulness. On solemn days, both on entering and retiring from
office, the Hebdomadaries are to continue till the masses. After matins
on the Sunday, they are to kneel and beg the others to pray for them;
those going out are then to say a certain prayer three times, and
receive the benediction, whilst the one coming in does the same, and
after benediction goes into office.
The Infirmary.--This department had its particular officer, who had the
direction of the baths, and administration of the medicine and diet
ordered for the sick. The rule was mitigated in favour of children and
aged men, who had leave to anticipate the usual hours of eating. The
refection, as already described, was conducted in silence--all listening
to the Scripture-reader, whose voice alone was heard during the repast.
Whatever was wanted, was asked for by sign. The reader was appointed
weekly. The dinner consisted of two dishes only, with fruit; and to each
monk, daily, one pound of bread was distributed, which was to suffice
for both dinner and supper. No animal food was allowed, except to the
sick and aged in the infirmary. The allowance of wine was three-quarters
of a pint per day. From Holyrood-day to Lent, the dinner hour was at
nones; in Lent till Easter, at six o’clock; from Easter to Pentecost, at
sext; and all summer, except on Wednesdays and Fridays, at nones. The
collation, or spiritual lecture, was given every night before
complin--that is, after supper; and complin finished, they were enjoined
strict silence.
Tardiness at church or table was punished with loss of rank, prohibition
of wine, or their usual allowance, or sitting in the place of disgrace.
The excommunicated were condemned to make prostration with the face
toward the ground, and without the church gate, when the monks proceed
to prayers. For any fault in the chant, he who made it was to ask
immediate pardon; and in other places, breaking of any utensil, or
neglect of duty, was to be spontaneously acknowledged before the Abbot
and congregation. The signal for repairing to church was given by the
Abbot; and nobody was to sing or read there without his leave.
Daily work was to be done from prime till near ten o’clock, from Easter
till the kalends of October, and from ten till twelve o’clock was to be
spent in reading. After refection at noon, the monks were allowed to
take their meridian or siesta; but those who preferred reading were
allowed to do so. After nones, labour was recommenced and continued
until the evening, from the kalends of October until Lent, reading till
eight A.M., then Tierce, and afterwards labour until nones. After
refection they had reading or psalmody. In Lent they had reading until
tierce; doing what was ordered [in the Ritual] until ten--with the
delivery of the books at their season.[413] It was the duty of the
Senior to go round the house, and see that the monks were not idle. On
Sunday, all spent their time in reading--except the officers, and the
idle and infirm, who had work given them. During Lent, abstinence from
meat, drink, and sleep, with a grave, pious, and solemn demeanour, are
more strictly enjoined, and, if need be, enforced. If engaged in a
journey, the monks are to halt wherever they may happen to be at the
time, and there say the canonical hours. [An instance of this
punctuality has been given in our account of Tinterne Abbey.] Monks
staying out of convent beyond a day, are not to eat in secular society
without leave of the Abbot. The church was never to be used but for the
solemnity of prayer: any other use was to be considered desecration in
its gravest sense.
Strangers are to be received by the monks to join them in prayers--with
the salutation of peace, and prostration, and washing of feet, as of
Christ, whom they represent. They are then led to prayers; the
Scriptures are read to them; after which the Prior, except on very
solemn occasions, is permitted to break his fast. The Abbot’s kitchen
and that of the visitors, are to be kept separate; so that the brethren
may not be disturbed by guests or pilgrims coming in at unseasonable
hours. No letters or presents can be received without leave from the
Abbot. When he has no strangers in the convent, the Abbot may invite to
his table certain of the brotherhood in rotation.
Workmen or artisans in the house are to labour for the common profit.
Novices are to be tried by austerities, denials, and hard essays, before
admission: their term of probation to comprise twelve months; in the
interim, the rule is to be read to them every fourth month. They are
then to be admitted by a petition laid upon the Altar, and by
prostration at the feet of all the monks. [See the forms already given
in our notice of Tinterne Abbey.]
Parents are to dedicate their children to the service of God, by
wrapping their hands in the pall of the altar; promising to leave
_nothing_ to them that might serve as a temptation to their leaving the
house or convent for the world; but if they bring anything with them,
the use of it is to be reserved during their lives.
Priests requesting admission are to be tried by delays; to sit near the
Abbot, and conform to the rule, but not to exercise sacerdotal functions
without special leave. Stranger monks are to be received hospitably,
and, if shown to be of good character and morals, invited to take up
their abode. Monks who have been ordained priests, are to be subject to
the rule and officers of the establishment, or to incur the pain of
expulsion.
Precedence is to be taken in accordance with the time of profession: the
elders are to address the juniors as _brothers_; and the latter to
address the former as _nonnos_, or fathers; the Abbot to be styled
Dominus, or father-abbot. When two monks meet, the junior is to ask the
benediction of his senior; and when he passes by, the junior is
respectfully to rise, offer him his seat, and not to sit down again
until invited.
The Election of abbots was determined by the whole society, and a
plurality of votes; the grand recommendation of the candidate for that
sacred office, being the purity of his life and conduct. The prior was
elected by the Abbot, who could depose him for disobedience, or any
flagrant abuse of power or neglect of duty. Among the minor officials--
The Abbey Porter was required to be a shrewd old man--able to give and
receive an answer; he was to have a cell near the gatehouse, and a
junior porter for his companion. It was very desirable, in order to
prevent the habit of straying beyond the abbey walls, to have a mill,
well, bakehouse, and other domestic offices within the house, with a
garden and orchard adjoining. Monks going on a journey are to have the
prayers of the congregation beforehand; and on their return to the
convent, they are to confess and solicit pardon for any excesses they
may have committed whilst abroad.
Undertakings, which had subsequently appeared difficult or even
impossible to carry out, agreeably to the orders of the Superior, were
to be humbly represented to him; but if he persisted, then the
assistance of God was to be implored, and relied upon, for their final
accomplishment. No monk was permitted to defend or excuse the
delinquency of a brother: no blow was to be inflicted--no
excommunication carried into effect--without the knowledge and express
sanction of the Abbot. In the correction of children and pupils, a
discretionary power was allowed. The duty of mutual obedience was
straitly enjoined; but no member was permitted, in obedience to orders,
to give to any private person a preference over his monastic superiors.
And the apology to be made and demanded in such cases, was prostration
at the feet of the superiors, until their anger or displeasure was
appeased, the rule of the institution vindicated, and the offender
brought to a due sense of his degradation.[414]
Habit.--“As for the habits of the Benedictine monks,” says Stevens,
“they were left to the discretion of the abbots, according to the nature
and temperature of the country, as it was hotter or colder.” Nothing
could be more sensible and considerate; for it cannot be doubted that a
neglect of this must be attended with pernicious consequences to the
general health of any society, that numbered amongst its members the
natives of various climates, which, in point of dress, required a
special regulation.
In temperate climates, a Cowl and a tunic were sufficient--the cowl of a
thicker texture for winter, and a thinner for summer--with a scapular to
work in. The scapular was the upper garment during the time of labour,
which was thrown off at pleasure, and the cowl worn during the remainder
of the day. Every monk had two tunics and two cowls, either to change at
night or to have them washed. The stuff of which they were made, was to
be the cheapest the country afforded. To the end that no man might have
any property--that is, anything that he might call his own--the Abbot
supplied them all with everything necessary in point of clothing.
Besides the habit, each monk had a handkerchief, a knife, a needle, a
steel pen, and tablets to write upon. Their beds were mats, with a straw
paillasse, a piece of serge, a blanket, and a pillow.
St. Benedict did not decide of what colour the habit should be; but it
appears, from the inspection of ancient pictures, that the garment worn
by the first Benedictines was white, and the scapular black--that the
scapular then worn was not of the same shape as that used by the Order
in the present day. It was more like the jerkins or jackets worn by
sailors, except that it was not open in front, but only a little in the
sides. That description of garment had been long in use before the
common garment, worn by the peasantry and poor people, was introduced.
This will be understood by referring to the woodcut.
A black woollen robe covers the whole body and feet; the hood is loose,
obtuse, oval, and broad; the scapulary is plain, of the breadth of the
abdomen; the girdle is broad, with a black cowl descending to the
ancles. The inner tunics, in general, are black, and the shirt is narrow
at the wrist; but in the house, the monk lays aside the hood, girds his
scapulary, and wears a crested or twofold cap on his head. Owing to the
sombre hue that prevailed in their habit, they were called Black
Friars.[415]
The Nuns of this Order wear a black robe, with a scapular of the same
colour and texture; and under this black robe they wear a tunic of wool
that has not been dyed; others wear the tunic quite white. In the choir,
or upon solemn occasions, they wear over all a black cowl, like that of
the monks; but in the engravings of Benedictine Sisters, a black veil
and white wimple are introduced.
* * * * *
AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to in the preceding
articles:--History of Monmouth--Pembroke--Glamorgan--English
Baronage--Monasticon--Memoir of Owen Glendower--Welsh Genealogical
History--King’s Munimenta Antiq.--Carlisle and Lewis’
Wales--Roscoe’s South Wales--Illustrations of Magna Charta--Life of
Charles I.--Mem. of Cromwell and the Parliament--Puritanism in
Wales--the English Historians and Chroniclers--with most of the
Authorities, local and national, already enumerated in the
preceding sections of the work.
* * * * *
CHEPSTOW.--The reference to the Appendix, in the note at the bottom
of page 32, is explained in the account of NEATH ABBEY.
[In the course of this work, it has been our pleasing duty to refer
to numerous authors, ancient and modern, on whose authority, in the
various branches of Archæology, our observations have been
frequently based; and now that we are closing another volume, it
would be injustice to the memory of departed worth to pass over in
comparative silence the author of “Tinterne Abbey and its
Vicinity.” MR. W. HEARDE THOMAS, by whose premature death the
republic of letters has lost a zealous and valuable contributor,
was many years a medical practitioner in the retired village of
Tinterne-Parva; where, in the exercise of his profession among a
widely-scattered population, he had daily opportunities of visiting
those classic and time-hallowed remains with which the county of
Monmouth is so greatly enriched, and thus collected materials for
the local guide-book which associates his name so favourably with
Tinterne Abbey and other historical sites, which have recently
passed under our notice.
The merits of his little work--far above the ordinary hand-books of
the day--were speedily noticed by the press in terms of approbation
and encouragement. To the various objects which he undertook to
illustrate, he brought the united tastes and acquirements of
historian, antiquary, and poet--the result of much reading, close
observation, and a delicate perception of those natural beauties
which are so profusely scattered along the banks of the Wye. To
these were added an early taste for Natural history,[416] which was
assiduously and successfully cultivated during his residence at
Tinterne. To him the embroidery of flowers, the “garniture of
fields”--mountain, forest, and “minnowy brook,” were objects of
never-failing interest and contemplation, the results of which he
had purposed in due time to lay before the public.
For the prosecution of these studies, a visit to Canada, and
personal examination of its natural history, had given him various
facilities not to be acquired on this side of the Atlantic. But his
constitution, naturally delicate, had slowly given way under the
combined influence of mental and bodily fatigue; and when overtaken
at last by the heaviest of domestic calamities--the death of his
wife--such was the prostration of his health and spirits, that, as
a last resource, he made preparation to emigrate to one of our
colonies, where the effects of a genial climate were held out as
the only means of re-establishing his health, and opening a wider
and safer field for the exercise of professional talent and
industry.
This cheering prospect, however, was but a glimpse of sunshine,
that soon disappeared in disappointment and darkness. A rapid
journey to London, at an inclement season, induced a train of
symptoms which, assuming a more and more decided character,
continued their fatal progress until arrested by the hand of death,
which took place in December, 1848.
He died in the prime of life, having survived his wife one brief
twelvemonth, and left behind him an infant family, with “a father’s
blessing for their patrimony,” for whom no better wish can be
expressed by his friends than that they may inherit their father’s
virtues, without his sorrows. These orphans were immediately
transferred to the care of a near relative, under whose
affectionate guardianship and devoted care they have already shown
evidence of an intellectual capacity that expands by cultivation,
and promises to bring forth good fruit in its season.
As far as the loss of parents could be supplied at their tender
age, it has been supplied by this relative--whose delicacy must not
be hurt by any commendation from a stranger, whose only object, in
thus closing the volume, is to record his admiration of Genius that
so often flourishes and fades in the shade; yet, strong in the
faith that looks for a better country, feels that the trials of
this life are all softened, if not disarmed, by the practice of
virtue, and a humble reliance on the promises of God.
In the little churchyard of Tinterne-Parva--which he had so
feelingly described--repose the remains of William Hearde Thomas,
and the short-lived partner of his joys and sorrows.]
END OF THE SECOND SERIES.
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FOOTNOTES:
[1]
“Inde vagos Vaga Cambrenses, hinc respicit Anglos;
Qui cum jam ad ostium fere devenerit _Chepstow_ præterfluit, id est,
si è Saxonico interpreteris forum vel negotiationis locus Britannis,
_Castle Went_, oppidum hoc est celebre quondam mœnibus nunc solum
Castro firmum, cujus domini fuerunt è Clarensium familia nobiles, à
proximo Castro _Strighull_, quod incoluerunt _Striguliæ_ et Penbrochiæ
Comites dicti quorum ultimus Richardus.”
[2] Longitudo ecclesiæ _prioratus_ Chepstow, 50 virgæ. latitudo eccl.
prædictæ, 33 virgæ.--_Will. de Worc._ 133.
[3] Longitudo pontis de Chepstow, 126 virgæ.--_Will. de Worc._ 133.
[4] From the form of the British Channel, says De la Beche, and the
absence of a free passage for the waters, such as exists at the Straits
of Dover, in the English Channel, westerly winds force up and sustain
a great body of water, thereby raising the sea above the mean level
several feet. During such phenomena, it is said, the body of water in
the river assumes a convex surface. In the great storm of 1703, the
tide flowed over the top of Chepstow bridge, inundating all the low
land, and washing away whole farm-yards and incalculable stock.
[5] Life and Letters of Thomas Campbell, vol. ii. p. 278.--_Note._
[6] See CASTLES AND ABBEYS, vol. i. of this work, Carisbrooke, Isle of
Wight. Upon the death of the renowned Fitzosborne, Dugdale, quoting the
Monk of Utica, thus moralizes:--“After this short life of nature, there
is a long life of Fame, who will blow her trumpet aloud to posterity,
and plainly lay open to the world as well the bad as good actions of
the most potent that shall be in their highest pitch of worldly power.
‘Veré ut gloria mundi flos feni,’ &c. Certainly the glory of this world
fadeth and withereth as the flowers of the field; yea, it passeth
away and vanisheth even as smoke. What,” he continues, “is become of
William Fitzosborne, Earl of Hereford, vicegerent of the king,
sewer of Normandy, that most warlike general! Was he not, in truth,
the chief and greatest oppressor of the English, and he who cherished
an enormous cause by his boldness, whereby many thousands were brought
to miserable ends! Lo! the just Judge, beholding all things, rewardeth
even man according to his demerits. Alas, is he not now slain? Hath not
this hardy champion had his desert? As he slew many with the sword, so
he suddenly received his death by the sword.”--_Baronage, 67, quoting
Orderic Vitulis._
[7] _Richardus_ vir infracto animo et projectissimis brachiis
_Strangbow_ cognominatus, quod arcu intentissimo uteretur, et
nihil levi brachio ageret. Hiberniam Normannis primus sua virtute
aperuit.--_Camden._
[8] “A full and particular relation of the manner of the late besieging
and taking of Chepstow Castle, in Wales, by the forces of his
Excellency the Lord Fairfax, expressed in a letter from Colonel Ewer
to the Honourable William Lentall, Speaker of the House of Commons.
The governor to the said castle within, that betrayed it to the
King’s forces, was slain in this service; as also all the rest of the
commanders and soldiers killed and taken. London: printed by Mathew
Simmons, for Henry Overton, in Paper Head Alley, 1648.”
[9] Historical and Descriptive Account, &c., of Chepstow Castle, 1808;
Heath; Burke’s Commoners, &c.
[10] The family of Kemeys is one of the most ancient in Monmouthshire.
The late William Kemeys, Esq. of the Maindee, and the present J.
Gardiner Kemeys, Esq. of Pertholy, are descended from the same family.
[11] This report is somewhat different from that given by another
authority, already quoted.
[12] If such be the fact, it would almost lead to the conclusion that
there was some truth in the story of the Parliament party having
disposed of his remains in some unusual way; although, otherwise, the
story seems very improbable, as that was not the form in which their
cruelty was wont to show itself. They were likely enough to have seized
his estate, his goods and chattels, and to have turned his family out
of doors; but they had no respect for dignities or titles, and cared
little for churches, churchyards, and dead bodies.
[13] This lady showed Mr. Heath a document of Oliver Cromwell, of which
the following is a copy:--
Oliver P. It is our will and pleasure that you permit and suffer
Colonel Edward Coke, with his company and hounds, to hunt, kill, and
dispose of a Brace of Staggs, this season, in our Parke or Woodes neer
Chepstowe, and that you, and every of you, be aydeing and assisting
to him herein; and for your soe doing this shall be your sufficient
warrant.
Given at Whitehall, the 12 July, 1683.
To Major Blethan, or, in his absence, to
Lieutenant Phillips, or any other of the
keepers of Chepstow Parke or Wentwood
Chase.
[14] See Burke’s Commoners, vol. iv.
[15] This connection of the two Cromwells, through the Kemeys family,
is worth notice.
[16] Of the Tynte family, Burke gives the following account:--
“The family of _Tynte_ has maintained for centuries a leading position
in the west of England; of its surname, tradition has handed down
the following derivation:--‘In the year 1192, at the celebrated
battle of Ascalon, a young knight of the noble house of Arundel,
clad all in white, with his horse’s housings of the same colour, so
gallantly distinguished himself on that memorable field, that Richard
Cœur-de-Lion remarked publicly, after the victory, that the maiden
knight had borne himself as a lion, and done deeds equal to those of
six crusaders; whereupon he conferred on him for arms, a lion _gules_
on a field _argent_, between six crosslets of the first, and for motto,
_Tynctus cruore Saraceno_.’”--_Commoners._
[17] C. J. Kemeys-Tynte, Esq., M.P., F.R.S.--whose father, C.
Kemeys-Tynte, Esq., succeeded to the estates of his great-uncle, the
last baronet--is coheir to the barony of Grey-de-Wilton; and in July,
1845, was declared by a committee for privileges of the House of
Lords, to be senior coheir of the whole blood to the abeyant barony of
Wharton.--_Dod’s Parliam. Comp._, 1847.
[18] With regard to the tower called “Longine,” the tradition ran, that
“it had been erected by one Longinus, a Jew, father of the soldier
whose spear pierced the side of Christ. He was condemned either for
some crime of his own, or for having given birth to a criminal, to
repair to Britain, and there to erect a religious edifice on the
river Wye. That edifice was the Chapel of our Lady in the castle; and
although a Jew, the said Longinus appears to have had a fine Gothic
taste.”
[19] Of the supposed chapel, Mr. Williams says--“This is not in
the usual style of such a building: the windows, arches, and other
decorated parts were extremely rich, and in the finest Gothic taste.
There are, however, several traces of plain Saxon arches filled up in
the wall [arches of construction], which indicate a higher antiquity
than the general decorations of the castle.”
[20] By him the vote was proposed, that the King’s statues at the Royal
Exchange and other places should be taken down, and the following
inscription substituted:--“_Exit Tyrannus, Regum ultimus, Anno
Libertatis Angliæ Restitutæ primo_, A.D. 1648.” When
it was proposed, “that the House of Peers in parliament was useless
and dangerous, and ought to be abolished,” Marten proposed that the
word _dangerous_ should be omitted, and that _useless_ alone should be
retained, and that it should be declared that the Lords _were useless,
but not dangerous_.--_Parl. Hist._
[21] Sir Henry Marten, his father, was one of the brightest ornaments
of the age in which he lived. He was principal Judge of the Admiralty,
twice Dean of the Arches, a Knight, and, in 1684, Judge of the
Prerogative Court, in all of which offices he was allowed to be one of
the most eminent civilians that ever filled them. He was in high favour
with his sovereign, King James, who jocularly used to remark on Sir
Henry, “that he was judge over the dead and over the living.” He died
the 26th of September, 1641, aged 80, and was buried at his seat at
Longworth, near Abingdon, in Berkshire.--_Heath._
[22] On the contrary, it is said by other writers that he was
affectionately attended by his wife and daughters during his
incarceration in Chepstow Castle.
[23] This anecdote does credit to Marten’s spirit, and very little to
Mr. Lewis, “who first violated the rules of good breeding towards a
man who, at the very time, was expiating what power had made a crime,
and then revenged himself by a petty inhospitality. It was punishment
enough, surely, for poor Marten to have been imprisoned for twenty
years, without having to accept a dinner on such terms.”
[24] Old Antony Wood was not likely to speak well of any regicide, and
from the hypothetical way in which he speaks of Marten’s penitence, he
seems to have known of the anecdote with Mr. Lewis, or, at least, as
much as it indicates.--See his character as given by MR. CARLYLE.
[25] As no such epitaph was at all likely to be permitted to be
engraven, on the tombstone, if Marten was even allowed a tombstone,
until after the Revolution, which took place nine years after his
death, is it not more likely that these lines were composed by some
quaint “Old Mortality” of the Cromwell school, than by the subject of
them?--_Correspondent._
[26] How Mr. Seward or Mr. Heath could have applied this quotation to
Marten, it is difficult to imagine.
[27] Here follows a disquisition on the genuineness of the picture,
which concludes:--“Such is the account attached to this picture,
which, after what has been said, does not positively prove it to be
the portrait of Henry Marten; but I am the more inclined to assent to
the traditionary evidence, because it has all the character of such a
man. It further seems to have been taken while he was in the army, from
his wearing armour, being Cromwell’s major-general over the county of
Surrey, in which command his conduct was marked by the most flagrant
rapacity; so that the picture must have been brought to St. Pierre, and
not painted during his residence in Monmouthshire. If, therefore, the
picture must be received as the portrait of Harry Marten, I am led to
believe that, when his family came to share in his confinement, they
brought it with them to Chepstow, and, after Marten’s decease, gave it
to Mr. Lewis’s ancestors. It is in the finest preservation.”
[28] The Lords of Striguil were entitled to the prisage and butlerage
of all wines brought into the ports of Swansea and Chepstow.
[29] Tradition relates that an officer actually made his escape from
this castle in the manner described, and, crossing the river by
swimming, joined the Protector’s army on the Gloucester heights, where
a battery was established.
[30] During the siege, as the tradition runs, a barge lay at anchor
immediately under this window, by means of which, if driven to
extremity, the governor at least, and part of the garrison--desperate
as the attempt must have been--might be enabled to make their escape.
This becoming an object of suspicion, a soldier of the republican army
volunteered to deprive the governor of this last resource. Throwing
himself at midnight into the river, he swam to the barge, and there
with a knife, which he had carried in his teeth for that purpose,
severed the cable, sent the boat adrift, and then swam back to his
comrades in triumph.
[31] In 1696, the castle was garrisoned by the royal troops, the daily
expense of which may be estimated by the following examples:--The
governor, in addition to six captains’ pay, had 2s. a day; the
gunner, 20d.; a mathorse, 10d.; fire and candle for the guard, 8d.;
a company of foot, consisting of a captain, 8s.; a lieutenant, 4s.;
two sergeants, at 1s. 6d. each, 3s.; three corporals and a drummer,
at 1s. each, 4s.; sixty-two soldiers, at 8d. each, 41s. 4d. = £3. 5s.
6d.--_Hist. of Chepstow._
[32] Fosbroke--Local History and Guide.
[33] His history is short and melancholy. In the course of the
American war, he was appointed governor of the island of St. Vincent,
where he expended a large sum from his own private resources in its
fortification. Upon its fall, the minister of the day disavowed his
claim for compensation. His creditors became clamorous, and he was
cast into the King’s Bench prison, where he languished for twelve
years. When released from his confinement, he was broken in health
and spirits--suffering most of all from the domestic calamity which
his fallen fortunes had produced in the insanity of his wife; and
shortly after he died at the house of a relative in London. He was a
generous and benevolent man, as the poor of his neighbourhood could
well testify. On his departure for the West Indies, they came in
troops to bid him a tearful farewell; and the muffled bells of the
neighbouring church rang a funeral knell as he left the home of his
love, and the scenes which he had embellished both by his taste and his
life.--_Roscoe’s South Wales._
[34] Chepstow Guide.
[35] “It may almost be said,” remarks the same writer, “that the
last happy moments Gray knew in this world were spent upon the
Wye; for, a few months after, we find him a prey to ill health and
despondency--complaining of an incurable cough, of the irksomeness
of his employment at Cambridge, and of ‘mechanical low spirits.’ He
died in the course of the following summer, æt. 55.”--P. M. August,
1835.--See his Life by Mason.
[36] The historian of the abbey here quoted has probably made some
mistake in the name; as it was to _Neath_ Abbey, not Tinterne, that
King Edward retreated.--_See Append._
[37] In 1210, when King John summoned all the ecclesiastics
and religious orders to meet him at London, he levied fines, which
were computed to amount to £100,000. The White or Cistercian
Monks alone paid £40,000 of silver additional; and their order, for
a time, became so much reduced, that it was dispersed throughout all
the other monasteries of England. From this condition, however, they
speedily recovered; and of the seventy-five religious houses of this
order that flourished at the Dissolution, _thirty-six_ were superior
monasteries.--_Ecclesiast. Hist._
[38] 1287.--Conventus Ecclesiæ Beatæ Mariæ de Tynterna intravit
dictam ecclesiam ad celebrandum in _nova_ ecclesia. Et quinto nonas
Octobris in anno sequenti Conventus intravit in choro, et prima missa
celebrata fuit ad magnum altare. Dedicacio Ecclesiæ Tynterniæ, 28 die
Jullii. F. littera.--_Will. de Worc._
[39] Citeaux--now Gilly-les-Citeaux--so famous for its abbey. “L’abbaye
de Citeaux,” says a French tourist, “chef d’ordre d’où dependaient
3,600 couvents de deux sexes, fut fondée par Saint Robert, Abbé de
Molesme en 1098. Saint Bernard y prit l’habit en 1113, et y
jeta la même année, les fondements de l’abbaye de la Ferté sur Gròne;
de celle de Pontigny en 1114; de celles de Clairvaux et de Morimont en
1115, appelées _les quatre filles de Citeaux_.” Yet Citeaux, afterwards
so famous, was a miserable desert at the arrival of St. Robert and
his disciples:--“Qui locus (_Cistercium_) et pro nemorum, et spinarum
tunc temporis opacitate accessui hominum insolitus, a solis feris
inhabitabatur. Ad quem Viri Dei venientes locumq. tantó religione quam
animo jamque conceperant et propter quam illuc advenerant, habiliorem
quanto secularibus despicabiliorem et inaccessibilem intelligentes,
nemorum et spinarum densitate prescissa et remota, Monasterium ibidem
construere cœperunt.--_Mon. Angl. art. Cister._ v. iv. 695.
[40] Quia etiam beatum Benedictum non in civitatibus, nec in
Castellis aut in villis, sed _in locis à frequentia hominum et
populi semotis_, Cœnobia construisse sancti viri illi sciebant,
idem se æmulari promittebant. Et sicut ille monasteria constructa
per _duodenos monachos adjuncto patre_ disponebat, sic se acturos
confirmabant.--_Monast. Angl. ii.; art. Cisterc._
Exuti ergo veterem hominem, novum se induisse gaudent: et quia nec
in regula nec in vita Sancti _Benedicti_ eundem doctorem tegebant
possedisse ecclesias, vel altaria seu oblationes aut sepulturas vel
decimas aliorum hominum seu furnos vel molendinos aut villas aut
rusticos, nec etiam fæminas monasterium ejus intrâsse, nec mortuos
ibidem excepta sorore sua sepelisse, ideo _hæc omnia abdicaverunt_,
dicentes--ubi beatus _Benedictus_ docet ut monachus à secularibus
actibus se faciat alienum, &c., &c.--_Monast. Angl. iv._ 699.
[41] It is added that, when Cœur-de-Lion was about to start for the
Holy Land (A.D. 1191), Folgius, a bold confessor of
the church, exhorted the monarch to dismiss his three daughters
before joining the Crusade. “Hypocrite!” said the king, “well thou
knowest that I have no daughters.” “My liege,” rejoined the confessor,
“you have three--Pride, Avarice, and Luxury.” “Aha!” exclaimed
Richard, “why, then, the Templars shall have Pride--the Cistercians,
Avarice--and as for Luxury, let my bishops and clergy share her
among them, and then they will all be well provided for until my
return.”--_Thomas’s Tinterne._
[42] They became so powerful at last, that they were said to “govern
all Christendom;” but, if they did not govern, they had at least an
influence in every government and kingdom of Europe. Cardinal de Vetri
says, they neither wore skins nor shirts; never ate flesh, except in
sickness; and abstained from fish, eggs, milk, and cheese; lay on
straw-beds in tunics or cowls; rose at midnight to prayer; spent the
day in labour, reading, and prayer; and in all they did, exercised a
continual silence.--_See Monast. Angl._
[43] In quo _regula_ sine ulla mitigatione ad apicem
servaretur.--_Mabillon_, quoted by Fosbroke.
[44] _Brit. Monachism_, p. 69.
[45] Dev. Vie Monastique.--Brit. Monachism, _note_, page 70.
[46] De Orig. et Progr. Monach., p. 313, quoted by Fosbroke, p. 70.
[47] “Critics who censure the west window as too broad for its height,
do not consider that it was not intended for a particular object, but
to harmonize with the general plan; and had the architect diminished
the breadth in proportion to the height, the grand effect of the
perspective would have been considerably lessened.”--_Coxe._
[48] The following are the ancient admeasurements of the church and
cloisters:--
Longitudo ecclesiæ _Sanctæ Maria Tynterniæ_ continet 75 virgas. _Item_,
in dicta ecclesia sunt ex parte australi 10 archus, et inter quamlibet
columnam sunt 5 virgæ longitudinis cujuslibet dictorum 10 arcuum:
item sunt in parte inferiori dictæ ecclesiæ ex parte australi 10
fenestræ de consimili operatione. Et 10 fenestræ principales ex parte
boreali ecclesiæ, et quælibet fenestra continet duas magnas panellas
fenestratas. _Item_, in _le ovyrhistorye_ sunt consimiliter 10 fenestræ
principales, et quælibet fenestra continet duas panas vitratas secundum
proportionem, quamvis non secundum quantitatem fenestrarum totius
ecclesiæ Westmonasterii apud Londoniam.--_Will. de Worc._
[49] Latitudo _orientalis fenestræ_ ante magnum altare, continet 8
pannas _glasatas_ cum armis ROGERI BYGOT, fundatoris. Et in orientali
parte duarum elarum orientalium, in earum duabus fenestris, quælibet
fenestra constat ex tribus panis vitreatis sine armis. Item longitudo
_Chori_ constat ex iiii. arcubus ultra quantitatem areæ quadratæ
campanilis principalis in medio Chori qua; continet ... virgas. Sic
in toto longitudo Chori cum area campanilis continet virgas. _Item_,
altitudo _voltæ_ totius ecclesiæ ab area ecclesiæ continet xi. Anglicè
_vetheyms_, et quilibet vetheym constat, &c.... pedibus seu ... virgis.
Longitudo de le _Crosseyle_, id est brachiorum ecclesiarum, tam ex
parte meridionali quam boreali continet 50 virgas, id est 150 pedes.
_Item_, quadrature spacia areæ campanilis in medio _Chori_ ecclesiæ
scitæ continet in longitudine 12 virgas. _Item_, dicta quadratura
campanilis continet in latitudine 12 virgas. _Item_, _fenestra_
principalis _meridionalis_ atque _Septentrionalis_ vitrea continet vi.
pannas glasatas magnæ altitudinis.--_Will. de Worc. ed. 1778, Cantab._
[with various blanks.]
Cloisters.--Ecclesiæ de Tynterna: Memorand.--_The Cloyster_
is 37 virgæ in longit. et in lat. 33 virg. _Item_, tota eccles.
continet 14 archus in una parte et 14 archus in altera parte. _Item_,
pars fenestra borealis principalis 14 panellas glasatas. _Item_,
latitudo dietæ fenestræ tam ex boreali quam oppositæ fenestræ ex parte
meridionali continet iii. virgas. _Item_ the _fermarge chyrch_ continet
in longitudine 34 virgas, id est 60 steppys meas--quæ sunt 34 virgæ--et
in latitudine viii. virgas. _Item_, capitulum in longitudine continet
18 virgas, in latitudine 9 virgas. _Memorand._, quod 24 steppys, sive
gressus mei, faciunt 12 virgas. _Item_, 50 virgæ faciunt 85 gradus,
sive steppys meas.--_Will. de Worc._ 83.
In all its parts, according to Dugdale, this church is a copy of
Salisbury Cathedral, built only a few years previously.
[50] Paper on the Abbey. Tinterne, which is coeval with
Westminster Abbey, has a remarkable similarity in its whole plan
and style of architecture, and was, in fact, a _repetition_ in
miniature.--_Dallaway’s Arts_, p. 36.
[51] A barge-builder at Tinterne severed the head from the trunk, and
defaced the features, legs, and shield, leaving it in its present
mutilated state.--_Tinterne and its Environs._
[52] In the early Church, “a fish was generally used by Christians as
a symbol of the Great Founder of their faith, the letters of the Greek
word, ιχθυς (a fish), forming the _initials_ of the most important
titles of our blessed Lord:”--Ι.Χ.Θ.Υ.Σ.--_Pompeïana._
Ίησους Χριστὸς Θεου Ύιὸς Σωτηρ
[53] The naturalist will not leave the area of the Abbey without
noticing an alder-tree in the northern transept, covered with
_aphides_, to which a long train of black ants have for some years
been observed continually coming and departing through the sacristy
door, and pacing along the pediment of one of the lofty columns to the
root of the tree. This is the only _procession_ now visible in the
Abbey, and is formed, not for devotion, but for a lowlier, yet not less
imperative purpose--the alder-tree is their _refectory_, and the sweet
_exuviæ_ of the plant-lice form their food.--_Thomas’s Tinterne_, p. 26.
_b_ He enumerates the following as indigenous in the fruitful vale
of Tinterne:--Delphinium consolida, Aquilegia vulgaris, Saponaria
officinalis, Eriophorum polystachion, Galanthus nivalis, Narcissus
pseudo-narcyssus, Allium Carinatum, Ornithogalum Pyrennaicum, Acorus
calamus, Euphorbia Cyparissias, Anemone pulsatilla, A. Appenina, A.
nemorosa.
[54]
If thou would’st view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight;
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild but to flout the ruins gray....
Then go--but go alone the while--
And view St. Mary’s ruin’d pile;
Then, home returning, soothly swear
Was never scene so sad and fair!
[55] Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature.
[56] Prædictus conquestor dedit manerium de Wolleston et manerium de
Tudenham in parte; et similiter dedit ei licentiam conquerendi super
Wallenses postea, &c.--_Monast. Angl._ iv. 725.
[57]
Is bruder Sir Gileberd, that eir was of the londe,
He bitoke mid gode wille the eritage an hond.
--_Robert of Gloucester._
[58] Baronage, 208.
[59] “He died untimely,” says the historian, “on the nones of April,
1176, and was buried in the Chapterhouse at Gloucester.”
[60] Bar. Monast.
[61] In the “_New Temple_” or Temple Church, as recorded by Robert of
Gloucester:--
And Willam Marchal deide tho, that longe worth in mone,
And atte _nywe temple_ was iburied at Londone.--Vol. ii. p. 518.
[62] Mat. Paris, 1245.
[63] Bp. of Fernis, a Cistercian monk, and an Irishman by birth.
[64] William, eldest son of the above-named Earl Marshall, gave a
charter to the Abbey of Tinterne, dated March 22, A.D.
1223. Pro salute animæ meæ et pro animabus bonæ memoriæ Walteri filii
Ricardi, filii Guilberti Strongbow, avi mei, et Willielmi Mariscalli,
patris mei, et Ysabellæ Matrisque meæ et antecessorum, hæredum et
successorum nostrorum.
[65] Dugdale’s Baronage.
[66] His deeds, assassination, and burial, are thus recorded by Robert
of Gloucester:--
“As noble bodi in he smot, he nolde longe abide,
He slou to ground her and ther, vaste on either side,
More prowesse ne mizte of bodi be,
Than me mizte of Richard the marschal there ise.”
Then describing the nature of the wound given him by an assassin--“in
aboute the fondement as he vnarmed was,” adds--
“At Kildar he was aslawe that in Yrlonde is,
And at the frere prechors ibured, at Kilkenni, iwis.
Tho vr Kyng Henry hurde of is deth telle,
And of the prowesse that he dude, ar me him mizte quelle,
And he vnderstod of his wit, and of is wisdom,
Him thozte it was a gret love to al is kinedom,
Vor is deth he made deol inou, and for is soule he let do
Almes dede mani on, and mani masse al so.”
[67] Baronage. Mat. of Paris. Mat. Westm. “Being suspected of overmuch
gallantry towards the wife of Llewellyn, Prince of Wales (sister of
King Henry), he was by him subtilely invited to an Easter feast, but
after the entertainment was over, he was charged therewith, and cast
into prison, where he suffered death by a barbarous murder. Some say he
was hanged, and the princess with him.”--_Dugdale. Bar._ 419.
[68] Rogerus Bygod, Comes Norfolciæ, dedit ecclesiæ de Tynterna
dominium de Eccle ac ecclesiam S. Edwardi de Halbergate ē omnibus eorum
pertinenciis.
[69] The hospitaler was allowed to drink with any orderly person, for
the sake of sociality, at the direction and request of that person,
without asking leave.--_Licet hostilario, etc._
[70] St. Bernard induced all his brothers, five in number,
to follow his example of retirement. His only sister still
remained in the world; but coming to visit the monastery in
the dress, and _with the attendance of a lady of quality_, she found
herself treated with so much neglect, that, bursting into tears, she
said, “True it is, I am a sinner, yet, nevertheless, it was for such
that JESUS died.” Moved by expressions so truly evangelical, Bernard
remitted his severity, gave her directions suitable to the taste of
the age, and probably still better advice; but all that _Gulielmus_,
the writer here quoted, has thought fit to record, is, that Bernard’s
sister became a nun, and resembled her brother in piety.--_Life of St.
Bernard._
[71] BRIT. MONACH.: art. _Guest-Hall_.
[72]
“From due oblation, at the vaulted door,
The entering monks stood, each one with his mate,
At the two tables of the lowest floor,
Their looks directing to the spiry state
Of chair much sculptured, where the Prior sate;
To this, where transversely, a board was spread,
Inferior lordlings of the convent ate;
As passed the Prior, all depressed the head;
Loud rang a tinkling bell, and wonted grace was said.”
[73]
“The Prior gave the signal word; aloud
The reader ’gan the love of God reveal;
At the first stated pause, the holy crowd
Turned to the board in instantaneous wheel,
And solemn silence marked their instant meal;
The Prior to the reader bow’d, again
They turned; the Sacrist rang a tinkling peal,
Last grace was said; and, carolling a strain
Of David, two and two withdrew the hooded train.”
BRIT. MONACH.--_Monastic Æconomy_, 401.
[74]
“At noon-hour--did no fleshless day betide--
On posied trenchers the plain cates were spread,
The snow-white egg, the fish’s corned side,
Domestic fowl, by barn-door plenty fed,
And, best of nutriment, fermented bread;
No thirst was theirs but what that juice could pall,
The sugar’d ears of bearded barley shed;
An aged monk was marshal of the hall,
There walking to and fro, the servitours to call.”
--_Poem quoted._
[75]
Pinguia concedens quæ sunt _affinia carni_,
Sic tamen ut nunquam sit _manifesta_ caro.
--_Spec. Stultor._ BRIT. MON.
[76] “Nullus et monachus habeat colloquium cum maliere cognata aut
extranea, in temporibus indebitis, sicut, prandii, et coenæ, et horæ
meridianæ, aut tempore potûs assiguati.”--_MS. Cott. Jul. II. 2. f.
159._ Quoted by Fosbroke, p. 220.
[77] See _ante op. cit._
[78] Brit. Monach. new Ed. p. 287.
[79] Hutchinson, ii. 67.
[80] Usus Cistercienses.
[81] These rules, however, proved very ineffectual in the end, and
were only observed until the temptation to break them had become
sufficiently strong.--See _ante_, pp. 33, 36.
[82] See _ante_ pages 35, 36, 37.
[83] See note in this vol. _ante_ page 35.
[84] Annales Cistercienses.
[85] Morton, 200.
[86] Morton’s Monastic Annals, quoting Bibl. Cotton. Nero A. 121.
[87] Nicolson’s Engh. Hist. lib. quoted by Morton.
[88] West’s Furness, 1774.
[89] Mores Catholici, xi. 77.
[90] Ibid.
[91] Mores Catholici.
[92] Mores Catholici.
[93] See Account of the _Schism_ already given.
[94] Hist. Monast. Villar. apud Mor. Cath.
[95] Mores Cathol., quoting Epist. lib. iv. p. 17.
[96] Annales Cistertienses, quoted by Morton, 209.
[97] _Annales Cisterc._ 1154, iv. 6. This varies but slightly from the
original. See also Monast. Annals, p. 210.
[98] In the grounds at Hawkestone, the seat of Lord Hill, and in those
of Fountains Abbey, some extraordinary hunters’-leaps are pointed out,
as having been taken in the heat of the chase; but that given in the
tradition of Lancaut, is one that will never be repeated.
[99] These objections, it is to be hoped, are no longer applicable to
Tinterne Parva. The “desecration,” so justly yet playfully complained
of, is a practice which cannot be too strongly reprobated; but to such
instances of negligence or “economy,” nothing but the progress of
Archæology can apply a final check.
[100] From the time of Henry the Second, to whom the land of Gwent
submitted, the royalty of Wentwood Chase was vested in the crown, and
its privileges were ascertained in the Charta Forestæ of Henry the
Third; but the rights of lords of manors, and free tenants, in times of
general confusion, became involved and disputable. In the assumption of
the Chase of Wentwood by the house of Somerset, after the Restoration,
the recognition of ancient customs and privileges involved it in
numerous controversies and processes of law.--_County History._ See
also Letter from Cromwell, supra.
[101] Striguil, or Strigul Castle, is quite distinct from that of
Chepstow, with which it has been often confounded, under the common
name of _Striguil_, or _Estrigoel_.
[102] Thomas, p. 62.
[103] Ibid. 63.
[104] Hard by are seene Wondy and Penhow, the seats in times past of
the noble family of Saint Maur, now corruptly named Seimor. For G.
Mareshall, Earle of Pembrock, about the yeere of our Lord, 1240, was
bound for the winning of Wondy, out of the Welshmen’s hands, to aide
William Seimor. From him descended Roger de Saint Maur, knight, who
married one of the heires of L. Beauchamp of Hach, a very noble baron,
who derived his pedigree from Sibyl, heire unto William Mareshall, that
puissant Earle of Pembrock, from William Ferrars, Earle of Derby, from
Hugh de Vivon, and William Mallet, men in times past highly renowned.
The nobility of all these, and of others besides, as may be evidently
shewed, hath met together in that right honourable personage, Edward
Saint Maur, or Seimor, now Earle Hertford, a singular favourer of
vertue and good learning, worthy in that behalfe to be honoured and
commended to posterity.--_Camden Silures_, 634.
[105] Rupis Aurea, eò quod aurei coloris saxa sole repercussa miro
fulgore sunt rutulantia: nec mihi de facili persuasio fieri posset,
quod frustratum dederit natura nitore saxis, quodque suo fuerit flos
hic sine fructu, si foret qui venas ibidem, et penitima terræ viscera
arte prævia transpenetraret.--_Gyraldus Cambrensis._
There is a hill near famed Caerleon,
Which, if the sun but dart a ray on,
It shines like gold; hence Goldcliffe hight,
But if there’s gold, ’tis not in sight.
--_Wonders of Wales._
[106] With regard to this tract Camden relates:--Beneath this lieth
spred for many miles together a _Mersh_, they call it the _Moore_,
which, when I lately revised this worke, suffered a lamentable losse;
for when the Severn sea, at a spring tide in the change of the moone,
what being driven back for three daies together, with a south-west
winde, and what with a verie strong pirrie from the sea troubling it,
swelled and raged so high, that with surging billowes it came rolling
and inrushing amaine upon this tract lying so low, as also upon the
like flates in Somersetshire over against it, that it overflowed all
subverted houses, and drowned a number of beasts and some people
withal. _Camden_, 635. See also _Note supra_, page 5. Neere to this
place there remaine the reliques of a _Priorie_, that acknowledge those
of _Chandos_ for their founder and patron.--_Ibid._
[107] County Hist. vol. ii. p. 57.
[108] Ibid.
[109] Neere Throgos, where we saw the wall of a castle that belonged
to the high-constables of England, and was holden by the service of
high-constableship.--_Camden Silures_, 634.
[110] See _ante_, page 32.
[111] _Mathern_ is “derived from Merthern Tuderic--or Martyrdom of
Theodoric.” When a Christian chief, who, like Theodoric, fell in
conflict with the Saxons, then pagans, he was admitted to the honours
of martyrdom.
[112] For the avouching and confirming of the antiquity of this place,
I think it not impertinent to adjoin here those antique inscriptions
lately digged forth of the ground, which the Right Reverend Father in
God, Francis Godwin, Bishop of Llandaffe, a passing great lover of
venerable antiquity, and of all good literature, hath of his courtesie
imparted unto me. In the year 1602, in a meadow adjoining Mathern,
there was found by ditchers a certain image of a personage, girt and
short-trussed, bearing a quiver--(but head, hands, and feet were broken
off)--upon a pavement of square tile in checkerworke; also a fragment
of an altar, with this inscription engraven in great capital letters
three inches long, erected by _Haterianus_, the lieutenant-general
of Augustus, and proprietor of the province of Cilicia--HATERIANUS
LEG. AUG. PR. PR. PROVINC. CILIC.--The next yeere following hard by,
was this table also gotten out of the ground, which proveth that the
foresaid image was the personage of _Diana_, and that her temple was
repaired by Titus Flavius Posthumius Varus, an old soldier, haply of
a band of the Second Legion--T. FL. POSTUMIUS VARUS V. C. LEG. TEMPL.
DIANÆ RESTITUIT. Also, a votive altar, out of which Geta, the name of
Cæsar, may seeme then to have been rased, what time as he was made away
by his brother Antonine Bassianus, and proclaimed an enimie; yet so as
by the tract of the letters it is in some sort apparent. PRO SALUTE
AUGG. N. N. SEVERI ET ANTONINI [ET GETÆ CÆS.] P. SALTIENUS P. F. MÆCIU
THALAMUS HADRI. PRÆF. LEG. II. AUG. C. VAMPEIANO ET LUCILIAN.--_Camden.
Silures. Britan._ pp. 637, 638.
[113] Hist. of Engl. quoting Bishop Godwin.
[114] See Speed’s Chronicle.
[115] Pict. Hist. of England: Ecclesiast. Affairs.
[116] Ibid.
[117] Pict. Hist. Book vi.
[118] Ibid.
[119] Nat. Papers quoted in Hist. of England. Civ. and Mil. Transact.
vol. ii. page 346. Pict. Hist.
[120] Nat. Papers quoted in Hist. of England. Civ. and Mil. Transact.
vol. ii. page 346. Pict. Hist.
[121] Headed in the North by Lord Darcy, Robert Aske, &c. See history
of that year, 1539, in Pict. Hist.
[122] Ellis’s Orig. Letters in Pict. Hist.
[123] On the 11th June, 1539.
[124] Wilkins’ Concilia, quoted in Hist. of Engl. Civil and Milit.
Transact. vol. ii. 403.
[125] In the taxation of 1291, being the nineteenth year of the reign
of Edward the First, the entries relating to the possessions of
Tinterne are thus given:--
SPIRITUALIA DIOC. HEREF.
£ _s._ _d._
Porcio in ecclesia de Tudenham, 3 6 8
TEMPORALIA DIOC. LANDAF.
Abbas de Tynterne habet Grang: de Asarto
ubi sunt tres caruc. terr. prec. cujuslibet, 1 0 0
De prato ibidem quatuor acr. prec. cujuslibet, 0 0 6
De silva cedua per annum, 0 5 0
De redd. assis, 1 2 0
De plantis et perquisitis, 0 6 8
De gurgite et piscar. in Weyt, 1 16 0
De pastura vasti, 0 4 2
Item idem habet apud Rogenston quatuor
caruc. terræ prec. cujuslibet, 1 0 0
De gardino et curilag, 0 1 6
De Molend. per annum, 0 15 0
De pastura de vasto, 0 10 0
Apud Marthog’m duas caruc. terr. et dimid.
et novemdecim acr. prec. cujuslibet car. 1 0 0
Et prec. cujuslibet acr. de prædictis novemdecim
acris, 0 0 3
De redd. assis ibidem, 0 5 0
In parochia de Magor de redd, 0 3 0
In parochia de Wundy, 0 13 4
Et in eadem parochia novemdecim acr.
terræ prec. cujuslibet, 0 0 2
Et ibidem quatuordecim acr. prati prec. cujuslibet, 0 0 6
Apud motam duas caruc. terr. prec. cujuslibet, 1 10 0
De prato ibidem quatuor acr. prec. cujuslibet, 0 0 6
In la Bredeme deme in paroch de magir.
quinquaginta et duas acr. prati. prec. cujuslibet, 0 0 6
Ibid. in aedil. assis, 0 10 6
Apud Penthleng. tres caruc. terr. prec. cujuslibet, 0 6 8
Apud Exellek sex caruc. terr. prec. cujuslibet, 0 6 8
Apud platelande tres caruc. terr. prec. cujuslibet, 0 6 8
Apud Hardstrete unam caruc. terr. prec., 1 4 0
Ibidem viginti quatuor acr. ten. prec. omnium, 0 6 0
In villa de Sturggyl de redd. assis, 0 4 0
Apud Eriket unum molend foler prec., 0 6 8
Ibidem ac redd. assis, 0 12 0
Do molend, 1 10 0
De una gurgite et dimid. per annum, 2 0 0
De sub bosco venet, 0 13 4
De pannag, 0 6 8
De perquis cur, 0 13 4
De melle vend, 0 5 0
De Fanneria, 2 0 0
Apud Penbo sexdecim acr. terr. prec. cujuslibet, 0 0 6
De redd. assis apud Uskam, 0 1 4
De Willielmo de Hereford pro quadem grang.
de redd. assis, 0 0 6
De Johanne de Stonsœu’arl pro quadam grang. 0 1 8
De Landavenio triginta acr. pastur. prec. cujuslibet, 0 0 3
---------
Summa £38 5 0
---------
Abbas de Tynterne habet cens. reacc.
prec. omium, 7 10 0
De mult. duo mill. ducent. et sexaginta
quatuor exitus omnium, 37 14 8
De ovibus matricibus mill. exitus omnium, 25 0 0
--------
Summa £70 4 8
[126] Monaster. de Eleemosyna paternalis domus de Tynterna.
Tynterna in Hibernia, } filiales domus de
Kingeswodde in Gloucestershire, } Tynterna.
[127] Archdale has preserved the following names and dates of some of
the abbots:--
John Torrell was the first; another John occurs in 1308; Roger Codd,
1346; David Furlong succeeded; Thomas Wyggemore, 1355; William Walsh,
1356; Thomas Young, 1471; John Power was the last abbot, he surrendered
it in the 31st Henry VIII.
The abbey itself is stated to have been rebuilt in 1447. It was
granted, with all its lands and appurtenances, 27th August, 18th
Elizabeth, in capite, to Anthony Colcleugh, at the annual rent of £26.
4s., Irish money.
King John’s Charter is dated Hamstede, iii die Decembris--but no year.
[128] King Henry the First’s Charter, authorising Roger de Berkeley’s
gift of Ackeolt to the monks, will be found in the appendix to the
Monasticon, with William de Berkeley’s letter to Pope Innocent, praying
for his ratification of the grant of Kingswood, followed by five other
charters, confirming the land at Kingswood, from Roger de Berkeley the
elder, Roger de Berkeley the younger, and King Henry the Second. The
last instrument given in the former edition of Dugdale, is a cession
from Nicholas de Kingestone of certain land called Jonesham.
[129] Monasticon and Baronage.
[130] The following is a list of the pensions granted to the monks of
this house at the dissolution:--
“Here cumeth such stipends as is thought necessary and expedient by
us, John Tregonwell, Nicholas Peyntz, Knight; John Peyntz, Esquyer;
John Freeman; and Edward Gosewike, commissioners appointed for the
dissoluement of the late monastery of Kingswood, in Wiltes, for the
abbote and monks thereunto, euery of them appoynted what they shall
have by yere during their lyves, that is to say--
Furst to William Bandlaie, late abbot _li._ _s._ _d._
there, by yere, i
-- to Thomas Redinge, prior there,
by yere, vi xiii iiii
-- to John Wensbury, monke there,
by yere, iiii xiii iiii
-- to John Gethin, monke there, and
curate of the parishe, by yere, iiij xiii iiii
-- to William Wotton, grangitor
there, by yere, iiij vj viii
-- to William Hughes, monke there,
by yere, iiij
-- to John Sodbury, monke there,
by yere, iiij
-- to Nicholas Hampton, subprior
there, iiij
-- to William Pakker, monke there, iiij
-- to Nicholas Acton, cellarer there, iiij xiii iiij
-- to Edward Ermingham, sexton
there, iiij
-- to Thomas Orchard, monke there, iiij
-- to John Stonley, monke there,
being no prest, xi”
To this are annexed the signatures as above.
[131] Mores Cathol., quoting Epist. lib. iv. p. 17.
[132] Floquet, Hist. du Parl. de Norm., quoted in Mor. Cath.
[133] Mor. Cath., quoting St. Ambros. Orat. lib. v.
[134] Macaulay.
[135] Ibid.
[136] Macaulay’s History of England.
[137] Bishop Godwin. See Pict. Hist. Eccl. Affairs.
[138] Blunt’s Sketch of the Reformation in England. See Pict. Histor.
ii. 404. Hist. and Fate of Sacrilege.
[139] Latimer’s Sermons. Hist. above quoted, vol. ii. 404.
[140] It would be difficult in the present day to find much of the
church property, thus alienated, in the hands of any descendant of
those royal favourites on whom it was sacrilegiously bestowed.
[141] Letter from Fitzwilliam to Cromwell, dated at Hampton Court,
Sept. 12, 1537, and given in Pict. Hist. vol. ii. p. 405.
[142] Latimer’s Sermons, &c., quoting Blunt’s Sketch of the
Reformation. Ibid. vol. ii. p. 405.
[143] See Letter from Coverdale to Cromwell in 1538.
[144] Hist. Henry VIII.
[145] Madden, Penalties, p. 49.
[146] Page 77.
[147] According to Hall, the following barbarous verses were set up in
great letters upon the stake or gallows, to which the unhappy victim
was bound:--
David-Darvel-Gatheren,
As saith the Welshmen,
Fetched outlaws out of hell;
Now is he come with spear and shield,
In harness to burn in Smithfield,
For in Wales he may not dwell.
And Forest the friar,
That obstinate liar,
That wilfully shall be dead;
In his contumacy
Of the Gospel, doth deny
The King to be Supreme Head.
[148] See the facts in Hall, Stow, and Godwin, abridged in the popular
History quoted above.
[149] Warton, Monastic Influence on Poetry and the Fine Arts.
[150] Brit. Monach., Manners and Customs of Monks and Nuns.
[151] Opus citat. Brit. Monach.
[152] Fosbroke, in quotation of various ancient authors, p. 259.
[153] Gregory had a whip with which he threatened the young clerks
and singing boys, when they were out, or failed in the notes; they
also fasted the day before they were to chant, and constantly ate
beans.--_Hawkins’s Music._ Fosbroke, p. 273.
[154] Knighton, a canon of St. Mary-le-Prè, has, to his own disgrace,
recorded his bitter condemnation of the translation made by his
contemporary Wickliffe:--“Christ intrusted his gospel,” says
that ecclesiastic, “to the clergy and doctors of the church, to
minister it to the laity and weaker sort, according to their exigencies
and several occasions; but this Master John Wickliffe, by translating
it, has made it vulgar, and has laid it more open to the laity, and
even to women who can read, than it used to be to the most learned of
the clergy, and those of the best understanding; and thus the gospel
jewel, the evangelical feast, is thrown about and trodden under feet of
swine.”--Decem Script. Col. 2644.
Such language, as an ingenious and learned divine has justly observed,
was looked upon as good reasoning by the clergy of that day, who saw
not with what satire it was edged against themselves.--Nichols’s
Append. to the Hist. of Leicester, vol. i. p. 108. Fosbroke, p. 253.
[155] Fosbroke, p. 252.
[156] Fosbroke, p. 246.
[157] Ibid. p. 247.
[158] Conviv. Religios.
[159] Cruditis. Fosbroke, p. 253.
[160] Mem. de Petrarque, iii. 606. Fosbroke.
[161] Fosbroke, quoting Parsons’ MSS. in the Bodl. Libr., Oxford.
[162] One of the last important occasions, on which the abbey seal of
Tinterne was used, was in ratifying an instrument, whereby the abbot
and convent appointed Charles, Earl of Worcester, and Henry Somerset,
Lord Herbert, his son and heir apparent, chief stewards of their manor
of _Acle_, or Oakley, in Norfolk, 6th Hen. VIII.
[163] Taylor’s Index Monasticus Pref. ap. Brit. Monach. p. 229, note.
[164] MS. Harl. 1051. Fosbroke, art. Cloister.
[165] Monachus quidam Sagiensis cænobii de cella quadam in partibus
Angliæ longinquis ad aliam cellam loci ejusdem remotis in Walliæ
finibus, super mare Milvordicum et Hibernicum gyrovagando discurrens,
ne _solus_ esset in via, quia, vae soli!--non socium sibi, sed
_sociam_, elegit; ejus turpitudo, terque quaterque, turpiter deprehensa
fuit. Adeo quidem, quod à Castellanis partium illarum demum captus
et in carcerem missus, sociaque ipsius et confusionis causâ ribaldis
exposita fuerit et garcionibus prostituta. Tales autem honores, et
tales honestates ex monachis ad cellulam missis ordine monastico
pervenire solent.--MSS. Cott. Tiber B. 13. ap. Fosbroke, p. 271.
[166] In the notes to Robert of Gloucester’s Chronicle [vol.
iii. § 8-9] we read:--“About this tyme the order of Cysteaux
was fyrst brought into Englande by one Walter, that founded the first
abbey of that religion at Ryuall.” The question, however, has
been set at rest by the extracts already given from the Chronicles of
Tinterne, in which the date of their appearance in Englande is fixed at
the beginning of the twelfth century, regnante _Henrico primo_.
[167] Quidam monachi dicunt _omnes esse monachos qui in paradiso
erant_, vel potius nullum ibi esse non monachum.
[168] Mox ut mortuus fuero, cucullam Ordinis Cisterciensis mihi
induite, et ne fiat me vivente, diligentissime cavete. MS. Roy. Lib. 7.
A. III. ap. Fosbroke, 173.
So--when the devil was sick, the devil a monk would be;
But when the devil got well, the devil a monk was he.
[169] It appears, however, that the books so carefully transcribed in
the monasteries were seldom understood, or even perused, by the higher
clergy; for it is told that Lewis Beaumont, bishop of Durham, 1317,
understood not a word of either Latin or English. In reading the _bull_
of his appointment to that see--which he had been taught to spell
for several days before--he stumbled upon the word _metropolitice_,
which he in vain endeavoured to pronounce; and, having hammered over
it a considerable time, at last cried out in his mother tongue, “Soit
pour dite! Par Seynt Lowys, il ne fu pas curteis qui ceste parole ici
escrit.”--Robert de Greystanes. Anglia Sacra, 1. 761., as quoted by
Craik, 1. 137.
[170] Sketches of the History of Literature and Learning in England,
vol. i. p. 69. By Geo. L. Craik.
[171] See Fosbroke. Dallaway’s Heraldic Enquiries.
[172] Henniker, Norman Tiles.
[173] Cowel, Mosaic Work, apud Fosbroke.
[174] The Signor left the banks of the Wye the day after relating
the preceding anecdote, or the narrator would have shared another
experiment with him. “While at Derby, however, it is related that
such was the wonderful power of his imitative faculties, that he far
outsoared the violins when playing in _alt_, whose masters laid them
down in the orchestra in astonishment at being so entirely eclipsed by
a human voice. They next played a hunting song, in which the signor
appeared to equal advantage. The rich and mellow tones of the French
horn were as successfully imitated, as the still finer and more
distinct ones of the violins; and in some shakes he quite enraptured
his audience. They then played a full piece together, which was such a
grand display of his talents, that the admiration and delight of his
auditors could go no further--they seemed electrified by his powers.”
[175] The river’s bank is here the haunt of otters, and the resort of
herons and halcyon kingfishers. The rocky precipices abound in rabbits,
foxes, weasels, martins, and polecats; whilst the more umbrageous parts
afford protection to hedgehogs, dormice, and squirrels.--_Thomas._
[176] Ibid.
[177] See view of the Refectory.
[178] See view of the door leading into cloisters.
[179] “The Beaufort Arms,” where the writer experienced much civility
with moderate charges, is, unfortunately, too small to accommodate more
than a party of three or four persons; but it is comfortable.
[180] See page 38-62.
[181] See page 33, passim.
[182] See page 38-39, passim.
[183] See page 65, passim.
[184] Running across the neck of land, it shortens the distance between
the Abbey and Tinterne Parva.
[185] In this engraving, the modern iron gate which shuts up
this passage, dividing the church from the cloisters, has been
_intentionally_ omitted, as not in harmony with the subject.
[186] See page 52, passim.
[187] Published by order of Parliament, 1827.
[188] Acle, or Oakley, eleven miles east from Norwich, and situated
near the Bure, on grounds which rise suddenly from the marshes below.
The church, dedicated to St. Edmund, is a rectory, value £20.
[189] Monast. ii. 724, v. 269.
[190] Munimenta Antiqua, vol. iii. p. 250.
[191] Munimenta Antiqua, vol. iii. p. 252.
[192] Dugdale’s Baronage, vol. i. p. 327.
[193] Munimenta Antiqua, vol. iii. p. 251.
[194] By Gertrude, daughter of Manners, Earl of Rutland, his first
wife, he had issue four sons and three daughters. His second wife was
Elizabeth, widow of Sir William Cavendish, whose son Henry married the
Lady Grace, one of the earl’s daughters by his first wife.
[195] Messrs. Brayley and Britton: 1805. King, Whitelocke, Itinerary,
and other sources.
[196] The cut here inserted represents specimens of [supposed] ancient
armour in the Gateway Tower.
[197] Raglan, elegans comitis Wigorniæ Castellum, etc. Silur., p. 510.
[198] Son of Thomas ap Gwillim ap Jenkin, by his wife Maud, daughter
and heiress of Sir John Morley, Knt., Lord of Raglan Castle.
[199] This gallant warrior fell by the side of his master, Henry V., at
the battle of Agincourt.
[200] Collins, vol. iii. 25, 27.
[201] Robert Hillyard.
[202] Speed, p. 858, 859. Which the reader may compare with Dugdale,
p. 257; and Collins, vol. iii. p. 28, by whom the circumstances are
somewhat differently stated. See also Hollinshed, p. 672.
[203] The Herberts in former times were spread all over this county,
and possessed several of its best estates and mansions; but,
notwithstanding the immense possessions of this ancient family, yet it
is very singular that there is not one landowner of £50 a year of the
name of Herbert to be found in the whole county; although it must be
allowed that the family of _Jones_ of Lanarth, is of an elder branch of
the Earls of Pembroke.--_Williams._
[204] Grafton, vol. ii. p. 15, 16.
[205] Whose mother and Henry Duke of Somerset were brother’s children.
[206] At the Festival of the Virgin Mary, 1514.
[207] See notice of Chepstow, ante, page 4.
[208] See vol. i. of this work, art. Arundel Castle.
[209] As stated by Collins--Mr. Thomas says, “at Raglan Castle; adding,
‘two headless and mutilated parts of alabaster statues of this nobleman
and his lady, which are, alas, kicked about by every chance visitor
to the church, alone remain of the magnificent tomb erected to their
memory!’”--_Raglan_, p. 137.
[When the Editor visited the place in August, 1848, the monument
presented the same pitiable state of dilapidation--a bitter homily on
the vanity of wealth, birth, and titles--yet in sad but perfect harmony
with the desolation of the adjoining Castle.]
[210] Collins, 1768, vol. iii. p. 208.
[211] Illustrations of British History, vol. i. p. 490.
[212] Illustrations of British History, vol. i. p. 490, 491, ed. 1838.
[213] History of England, _Manners and Customs_, book viii. chap. vi.
p. 629.
[214] Till the year 1627, it was customary in these two counties to
have but one sheriff.
[215] Charles Sackville was the direct descendant of the great Thomas
Lord Buckhurst. Of his youth it is disgraceful enough to say, that he
was the companion of Rochester and Sedley; but his mature life, like
that of Sedley, was illustrated by public spirit, and his fortune
enabled him to be a beneficent friend to men of genius. He attended
the Duke of York as a volunteer in the Dutch war, and finished his
well-known song, “_To all you ladies now at land_,” on the day before
the sea-fight in which Opdam, the Dutch admiral, was blown up with all
his crew:--
“To all you ladies now at land,
We men at sea indite;
But first would have you understand,
How hard it is to write;
The Muses now, and Neptune too,
We must implore to write to you.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.
“Should foggy Opdam chance to know
Our sad and dismal story;
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And quit their fort at _Goree_;
For what resistance can they find
From men who’ve left their hearts behind!
With a fa, la, la, la, la.”
--_Campbell’s British Poets_, p. 316.
[216] Peck’s Curiosa.
[217] Ibid.
[218] Opus citatum in Pict. Hist. Engl., book vii. chap. vi. p. 629.
[219] It was fortunate that, while the aristocracy were thus becoming
more vitiated, the common people had become more temperate than
formerly; but to this assertion Stow adds--“It was not from abstinence
but necessity; ale and beer being small, and wines in price above their
reach.” During the period of the Commonwealth, greater temperance in
eating and drinking naturally prevailed, from the ascendancy of Puritan
principles, which recommended simplicity and self-denial.--_Manners and
Customs_, Pict. Hist.
[220] Something like the court-suit of Prince Esterhazy.
[221] Pictor. Hist. Engl., cit. _Winwood_, book vi. chap. vi. p. 630.
[222] Harleian MS., quoted by Miss Aikin, in her ‘Memoirs of the Court
of James I.’ This Lady Compton, who valued herself upon being “so
reasonable,” was the daughter and sole heiress of Sir John Spencer,
who was probably the wealthiest citizen of his time, as he died worth
nearly a million sterling. He was called “The Rich Spencer.” Lord
Compton, her husband, was so transported at his inheritance, that
he went out of his wits, and remained in that condition for several
years.--_Winwood_, quoted in the Pict. Hist. of England.
[223] Osborne’s Memoirs of King James, in Pict. Hist. of Engl., book
vii. chap. vi. p. 630.
[224] _Manners and Customs_, Pict. Hist. of England.
[225] Ibid.
[226] History of England, _Manners and Customs_, quoting from “Peck’s
Curiosa,” “Evelyn’s Diary,” “Strutt,” “Somers’ Tracts,” and “Court of
King James.”
[227] So much was swearing identified with loyalty, that Cromwell,
after a skirmish with the Scottish horse at Musselburgh, sent word to
the Parliament that the enemy had English cavaliers in their ranks,
_because_ he heard one of their wounded exclaiming with his last
breath, “_D--n me! I’m going to my King._”--_Howel’s Letters_, quoted
in the History of England.
[228] The woodcut here introduced represents the boar’s head--a
favourite dish in the olden time--on its way from the kitchen to the
banquet-room.
[229] See notice of him in this work, art. “Chepstow Castle.”
[230] Tour throughout South Wales and Monmouthshire, by J. T. Barber.
[231] Bayly, p. 36-44.
[232] Churchyard. See Wood’s “Rivers of Wales.”
[233] Was it here that Henry Bolingbroke was confined, as traditionally
believed?
[234] The reader is probably aware that in certain churches, palaces,
&c., obnoxious pictures and statues were treated in this manner by the
soldiery; and hence the lamentable destruction of these works of Art,
which were once the ornaments of the country.
[235] See the Woodcut.
[236] See Thomas’s Tinterne, p. 133.
[237] See paper in the “Archæological Journal.”
[238] See Description and Anecdote in a subsequent page of this Volume.
[239] Archæolog. Journal, art. “Raglan Castle.”
[240] Ibidem.
[241] By removing the ivy from a portion of the great Hall, in the
course of last autumn, another magnificent window has been brought into
view; and by a similar course of discovery, other interesting features
of baronial splendour will no doubt reappear.--[Note by Mr. G. May,
“Warden” of the Castle, whose efforts to preserve what remains, and
bring into view what is yet concealed of these noble ruins, is alike
creditable to his taste and his industry.]
[242] This appears ungenerous. There seems no just ground for
suspecting the Marquess of any motive incompatible with the most
devoted loyalty.--See his own declaration in a subsequent page of this
article.
[243] Lord Clarendon’s Hist., vol. iii. p. 154, ed. 1706.
[244] “Out of a window they (the rabble) killed Colonel Lawley, and two
officers more, without hurting a common soldier.”--_Clar. Hist._
[245] Lord Clarendon’s Hist., vol. ii. p. 156, ed. 1706.
[246] An allusion possibly to some design on the part of Charles
to forsake rebellious London, and make York his capital; but more
probably--as I am reminded by a correspondent--to an old prophetic saw
in rhyme, viz.--
“Lincoln _was_, London _is_, and York _shall be_
The greatest city of the three.”
[247] Ubi Troja nunc seges.
[248] Literally, having been created Marquess very recently.
[249] This quaint phrase may mean two days or two months.
[250] Thus the King had his money, and the poor Marquess was
indulged with the royal conversation, which Dr. Bayly worked up into
the “Certamen Religiosum,” a duodecimo of 232 pages.--_Certamen
Religiosum_, p. 2-11, Lond. 1649.
[251] In variety of wines, and the copious use of them, the wealthier
classes of England in this age were not a whit behind their ancestors.
The arrival of the Danish King and his courtiers in the reign of
James, had greatly increased the national thirst; insomuch that it
was observed, “The Danes have again conquered England!” In the reign
of Charles the First the Cavaliers were as little famed for
temperance as the Courtiers of King James. The English followed
also, very scrupulously, the Danish custom of drinking healths; and
foreigners were astonished to find that when a company amounted to some
twenty or thirty, it was still expected that every guest should drink
the health of each in rotation. Such festivals, of course, inflamed
the love of quarrel. Toasts were given which produced discussion,
or refusal to drink them; and if the overheated parties did not
immediately come to blows, still duels and bloodshed were the usual
consequences. Sometimes, when a lady or an absent patron was toasted,
the company pledged the toast upon their knees. Among other disgusting
modes of drinking healths at this period, the toper sometimes mingled
his own blood with the wine.--“_Manners and Customs of England._”
[252] Apophthegm 25, Bayly, p. 52.
[253] Nothing can be more wondered at than that the King should amuse
himself about forming a new army in counties which had been already
vexed and worn by his own troops, and the licence of those governors
whom he had put over them; and not have immediately repaired into the
west, where he had an army already formed, and a people generally well
devoted to his service; whither all his broken troops, and General
Gerrard, might have transported themselves, before Fairfax could have
given them any interruption.--_Clarendon._
[254] The branch of the Morgan family here mentioned, like that of
Worcester, were devoted to the royal cause, and on all occasions
evinced that unshrinking loyalty which added lustre to their descent.
In the halls of Tredegar, as in Raglan Castle, Charles found an
asylum--the only asylum, perhaps, that could then be a sure guarantee
for his personal safety. The Morgan family was descended from the
ancient princes of South Wales, and as much distinguished by its
hospitality as its antiquity.
[255] Sir Henry Ellis’s Orig. Lett., vol. iii. p. 310.
[256] Grandfather of the famous Dean of St. Patrick’s.
[257] Apophthegms.--See the former _note_.
[258] Among what are called “_The King’s Pamphlets_,” in the British
Museum, the collection of which, begun by a Mr. George Thomason,
and continued by order of King Charles the First, there is a single
folio sheet printed at London, containing “VERSES lately written by
Thomas Earle of Strafford.”--_Sir Henry Ellis’s “Original Letters”
illustrative of English History_, vol. iii. p. 238.
[259] Of this disastrous event a sympathising French poet writes:--
Tel qu’un lion forcé de repaire en repaire,
En dépit des chasseurs regagne sa tanière.
Mais Charles, en cet asile investi sans sécours,
Ne pouvait s’y flatter que d’un frêle recours--
Trop déplorable objet de tant de trahisons,
Indigné, trainé de prisons en prisons,
L’imfortuné Monarque, abreuvé de misères,
Finit sur le billot ses destins sanguinaires.
[260] See Thomas’s “Tinterne,” p. 78.
[261] Rowland Williams of Llangibby was distinguished by royal favour,
both in the reign of Queen Elizabeth and that of her successor, and
in proof thereof received the honour of knighthood. His grandson, the
Sir Trevor Williams here mentioned, in consideration of his loyal
attachment to the interests of King Charles, was created a baronet on
the 14th of May, 1642.
[262] See Letter published by Mr. Thomas in his “Account of Raglan,”
_note_ 23.
[263] Stated by Rushworth, as only 1,500 men, while the garrison in the
Castle amounted to 800 men.
[264] Of this document the following is a copy:--
“To our trusty and well-beloved Sir Thos. Glenham, Sir Thos. Tildesley,
Col. H. Washington, Col. Tho. Blagge, Governors of our Cities and
Towns of Oxford, Lichfield, Worcester, and Wallingford, and all other
Commanders of any Towns, Castles, and Forts, in our Kingdome of
England:--
“Charles R.
“Having resolved to comply with the desires of our Parliament in every
thing which may be for the good of our subjects, and leave no means
unessayed for removing all differences amongst us, therefore We have
thought fit, the more to evidence the reality of our intentions of
settling an happy and firm peace, to require you to quit those Towns,
Castles, and Forts intrusted to you by us, and to disband all the
Forces under your several commands.
“Newcastle, the 10th June, 1646.”
[265] The Marquess, like many other royalists, considered that the King
was under restraint; and that it was his _duty_ to disobey the royal
orders for surrender. In fact, Charles himself had written to the Queen
that he was in durance in the hands of the barbarous and perfidious
Scots; and that she, his son, and all his faithful counsellors, were
to regard every order from him, C. R., as forced or surreptitious.
The Marquess, therefore, regarded the document with well-grounded
suspicion, and took exception to his Majesty’s warrant, because, while
it specified others, it did not name him or his Castle.--_Hist. of
Engl., Civ. and Milit. Transact._ p. 356.
[266] It is worthy of remark, that Sir Thomas Fairfax, on his arrival,
does not so much continue the siege already commenced by Colonel
Morgan, as begin a new siege by a new summons. It was thought, perhaps,
that the Marquess would be more disposed to surrender his Castle to a
man of General Fairfax’s rank than to Colonel Morgan; and from what
follows, the opinion was not without foundation.
[267] A prohibition, by-the-by, which the noble owner and his royal
master do not seem to have applied to themselves.--See _Certamen
Religiosum_.
[268] “An exact and true Relation of the many several Messages
that have passed between his Excellency Sir Thomas Fairfax and the
Marquess of Worcester, Governor of Raglan Castle, touching the
Surrender thereof: Together with a Copy of the Propositions sent to
the General from the Marquess of Worcester out of Raglan Castle,
and his Excellency’s Refusal to treat on them: Also, the Names your
Commissioner appointed to treate with the Enemy upon the Propositions
sent to them from the Generall. Certified in a Letter to a Member of
the Honourable House of Commons, on Tuesday, August 18th, 1646, and
commanded to be forthwith printed and published. London. 1646.”
[269] Fairfax was encamped on a rising ground north of the Castle,
which commanded the whole line of the fortress occupied by the Marquess
of Worcester.
[270] It is deserving of notice, that the communication above quoted
was ordered by the House of Commons to be made public the moment it
was received, although it describes very frankly all the plans and
difficulties of the besieging army. In other cases it would probably
have formed the substance of a secret despatch.
[271] An account precisely similar to that quoted is given in the
“Mercurius Civicus--London’s Intelligencer; or, Truth impartially
related from thence to the whole Kingdom, to prevent misinformation.
From Thursday, August 13, to Thursday, August 20, 1646.” This
singular-looking gazette, determined it would seem on impartiality
of honours, ornaments its title-page with a likeness of Sir Thomas
Fairfax, faced by that of King Charles.
[272] Part of this building remains, with the date 1616. In the parish
church of Llandenny, is a monument of Roger Oates of Kevantilla, who
died 1706, ætatis 67.
[273] “History of England,” Charles I. p. 607.
[274] Among the gentlemen who took part with him in the defence was
Sir Harry Killigrew, of whose melancholy fate Clarendon gives some
interesting particulars.--_Clarendon_, part ii. p. 39, ed. 1706; also,
vol. v. p. 40.
[275] “In that day a man shall cast his idols of silver, and his idols
of gold, which they made, each one for himself to worship, to the moles
and to the bats.”--Isaiah ii. 20.
[276] Dr. Henry Edwards, author of “History of the Siege of
Jerusalem.”--_Archæol. Journ._, vol. i. p. 112.
[277] “Thomas’s Tinterne,” p. 158.
[278] From lines ascribed to Lord Strafford.--_Sir Henry Ellis’s_
“_Original Letters_,” vol. iii.
[279] “Tout est perdu, hors _l’honneur_.”
[280] Carlyle’s “Cromwell:” [quoting Hist. of Independ. London, 1683-5.]
[281] See description of this walk, _ante_ p. 158.
[282] London, 1650; a thin folio volume.
[283] Douay, 1654.
[284] Quoting from Sacred Writ.
[285] “Guide to Piety.”
[286] A small volume with this title: “Worcester’s Apophthegms; or,
Witty Sayings of the Right Honourable Henry (late) Marquess and Earle
of Worcester, delivered upon several occasions, and now published for
the benefit of the reader, by T. B., a constant observer and no less
admirer of his Lordship’s wisdom and loyalty. 1650.”
[287] See _ante_ page 175, the King’s letter to Glamorgan.
[288] This, in some degree, explains the strong motives by which the
Marquess was actuated in his devotion to the King.
[289] On the coffin was this inscription, engraved on a brass
plate:--“Depositum illustrissimi principis Edwardi, Marchionis et
Comitis Wigorniæ, Comitis de Glamorgan, Baronis Herbert de Raglan,
Chepstow, et Gower, nec non serenissimo nuper Domino Regi Carolo Primo,
South Walliæ locum tenentis, qui obiit apud Lond., tertio die Apriles,
An. Dom. MDCLXVII.”
[290] August 18, 1660.
[291] See description of the moat, &c., _ante_ p. 158.
[292] Tinterne and its Vicinity, page 130.
[293] Page 131.
[294] Monmouth, Gloucester, Worcester, Hereford, Salop, Wilts,
Somerset, Devon, Brecon, Glamorgan, Caermarthen, Cardigan, and Radnor;
together with the British Channel to some distance beyond the Holms.
Near the latter is a Tower called “Kemey’s Folly.” Its founder,
boasting to his father that the tower could be seen from thirteen
counties, was answered--“I am sorry, my son, that so great an extent of
country should be witness to thy consummate folly;” and from that day,
we are told, the tower assumed the name which it still retains.
[295] Or, according to Mr. Thomas, 1720 feet.
[296] “Thomas’s Raglan,” p. 155.
[297] A MS. plan, which has just been sent to the Editor from Raglan,
in confirmation of the above, seems to complete the evidence which was
hitherto wanting.
[298] One solitary attempt to imitate the jousts and tournaments of
former days, was made a few years ago at the expense of the Earl of
Eglinton; but “the burlesque was apparently too extravagant, if not too
costly, for repetition.”
[299] In the bowling-green attached to the residence of a gentleman
at Muswell Hill, Hornsey, the ancient national game is still kept
up--_ritu majorum_.
[300] Fosbroke, Nares, Strutt, Gage’s Hengrave Hall.--_Encyclopædia of
Antiq._, vol. ii. p. 674.
[301] See “Strutt’s Sports,” p. 97.
[302] “Fosbroke’s Gymnastics.” The late Sir S. R. Meyrick gives various
kinds of jousts, _i. e._ where the combat is limited to two rivals.
[303] Page 175 of this volume.
[304] The contributor of this anecdote is not sufficiently acquainted
with the habits of birds as to pronounce that no bird builds its nest
of white-thorn; but if such be really the case, that circumstance might
surely have led the cavaliers to suspect that the prophecy had received
some aid in its fulfilment from the worthy townsmen of Caernarvon.
But the explanation given by the Marquess is, as usual, felicitously
characteristic, and veiled in a politico-religious guise.
[305] Bayly, Apophthegm xix.
[306] The woodcut represents the old baronial kitchen with its
appendages, as described page 154.
[307] See note, page 138.
[308] As an author, he is known by a work relating to that curious
monument of former ages, Stonehenge, which he pronounced to be a Roman
temple, dedicated to Cœlus; an opinion, however, which antiquaries have
decried as erroneous and absurd.--_Biog._
[309] See account of the King’s visit to Raglan, p. 163.
[310] He died in 1348.
[311] The lordship of Grosmont was absorbed in the acquisitions of the
house of Lancaster, and a court-baron is held for the district, called
“the Hundred of the Three Castles”--Grosmont, Skenfreth, and White
Castle, or Castle Gwyn.
[312] 1326.--See Hist. of Monmouth.
[313] 1387.--Ibid.
[314] Life of Henry V.
[315] In the “Shakspeare,” edited by the late poet Campbell, it is
thought that the parts of _Gloucester_ and _Edgar_ are taken from the
story of the Paphlagonian King in Sir Philip Sydney’s “Arcadia.” There
was also a play, entitled “The True Chronicle Historie of King Leare
and his 3 Daughters,” entered at Stationers’ Hall in 1594, which kept
possession of the stage several years, and must have been familiar to
Shakspeare himself.
[316] The recent epic poem by Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart., entitled
“King Arthur,” is one of the few poems of our own times that promises
to descend to posterity. What Milton admired, and Dryden projected,
as the subject of a national poem, Sir Edward has accomplished with
that felicitous taste and ability which have impressed his name on the
popular and classic literature of the day. Pope himself had at one
period of his life resolved to complete, what Milton and Dryden had
only planned--a heroic poem on the same subject.
[317] Among the estates thus rejected was the ancient manor of
Berkeley, in the Vale of Gloucester. “Nam cum eis aliquando tota
provincia de Bergelay a Rege et Regina, gratis offeretur,” etc. etc.
[318] Regina verò Matildis sanctitatis ignara quanta videlicet mentis
constantia insaturabilem divitiarum fugeret ingluviem; cum aliquando
_rogare cœpit ut modis omnibus sineret eam manum suam in sinum ejus
mittere_, etc.
[319] The precise year of its foundation has never been ascertained;
but there is no doubt that it was commenced after 1108, and completed
before 1136, when the greater part of the brotherhood were removed to
Hereford, and subsequently to New Llanthony, near Gloucester. We have
the testimony of Giraldus Cambrensis that, in 1186, the Mother-Abbey
had been long completed. He describes it as covered with lead, and not
inelegantly constructed with a roof of stone.
[320] Hist. Abbatiæ de Llanthony, in Bibl. Cotton, Sub. Effigie
Julii DXI. fol. 30. B.; also, Monasticon Angl. vol. iii.
p. 58. Ed. 1673. It is too long for our purpose; but the article will
be interspersed with extracts from it.
[321] Translated by the late Sir R. Colt Hoare, Bart., 1806.
[322] The name of the place in Welsh, as he explains it, is Nanthodeni.
_Nant_ signifies a running stream, from whence this place is still
called by the inhabitants, Llandevi Nantodeni, or, the Church of St.
David upon the river Hodeni. By the English, therefore, it is corruptly
called Llanthoni; whereas it should either be called Nanthodeni, that
is, the brook of the Hodeni, or Lanthodeni, the church upon the Hodeni.
[323] This was before the _New_ Abbey had been thought of; or, in the
original words, “Before the Daughter had existence; and I sincerely
wish,” adds the devout historian, “that she had never been produced.”
[324] Resembling in many respects--though in a less inhospitable
region--the Augustine monks of “the Great St. Bernard,” and holding
no intercourse with the world around them, unless by means of those
pilgrims who resorted to their shrine, and spread abroad the fame of
their sanctity.
[325] Seneca’s Morals.
[326] This anecdote, somewhat differently told, we have already noticed
in the sketch of Tinterne Abbey.
[327] This reminds us of a visit to a celebrated monastery in Tuscany,
where the writer was received by one of the superior monks with great
politeness and hospitality. In the course of the evening he mentioned
the principal circumstances of his life--“court intrigue, dissipation,
extravagance, and moral depravity; at last,” said he, “I became
utterly disgusted with the life I had led, and flew for refuge to this
sanctuary, where I have lived many years, and found, to my soul’s
content, that there is no happiness in this life but in preparing for
the next--_pensare, pensare, sull’ éternità_.”--Ed.
[328] Sir R. C. Hoare, quoting Giraldus.
[329] Orig. Nova Marchia. Chr. New March?
[330] See the account already given of the Clare family.
[331] In those times the Wye was considered the boundary between
England and Wales.
[332] See _ante_, founders and benefactors of Tinterne Abbey.
[333] Of the strict legal phraseology of this document, the
following is a specimen:--Volo et firmiter præcipio quod Canonici
Lanthoniæ Primæ, omnia tenementa sua in terra de Ewias,
tam laica quam ecclesiastica quæcumq: in præsenti habent vel in
posterum, emptione, donatione, vel quocumq: alio titulo habituri sunt,
bene et in pace, liberè et quietè teneant in omnibus locis et rebus
ubicumque fuerint in terra de Ewias, quieta de omnibus placitis
et querelis, et auxiliis, et _sumagiis_, et _cariagiis_, et clausturis;
et de pontium et castrorum ædificatione, et de conductu thesauri, et
de omni operatione et lestagio et stallagio et summonitionibus, et
de assisis, et superassisis; et de omnibus foris functis, quacumque
occasione emerserint; et de assartis. Nullus verò de Forestariis
nostris quicquam se intromittat de boscis Prioris et Canonicorum
Lanthoniæ Primæ; sed omnem potestatem et libertatem, quam
ego et hæredes mei in boscis nostris habemus, vel habere poterimus,
habeant prædicti Prior et Canonici in boscis suis, sint verò et
homines et res ipsorum quieta de telonio, et ex omnibus exactionibus,
et consuetudinibus in Nundinis, foris, et mercatis; et omnibus locis
et rebus _per totam terram de_ Ewias. Habeant prædicti Prior
et Canonici omnem justiciam de _assaultu_ et _murdro_ et sanguinis
effusione, et pacis infractione et thesauri inventione, et quicquid ad
nostram pertinet potestatem.... Concedo quod habeant de hominibus suis
et de tota possessione sua, quam habent vel habituri sunt, in terra de
Ewias, etc. etc. Concedo quod predicti Prior et Canonici
omnes libertates prædictas et liberas consuetudines habeant adeo liberè
et quietè, pacificè et integrè sicut ego et antecessores mei, ipsius
libertatis unquam melius, plenius, et liberiùs habuimus. Concedo etiam
quod habeant omnes libertates quas ego et successores mei per Regem
Angliæ, vel alium, habere poterimus in terra de Ewias, etc.
etc.--Datum per nostrum manum apud Langley, Anno regni nostri
decimo octavo.
[334] These Canons were to live in common; to have but one table, one
purse, one dormitory. But as many of them had begun to abate somewhat
of the strictness of their first rules, a new set sprang up that
pretended to reform upon the rest; and these, from their more pointed
observance of the vow, were styled Regular Canons; whereas those
who had fallen from the original purity of the Order were called, by
way of reproach, Secular Canons. In this manner the monks of
New Llanthony, who affected a more exemplary life, called themselves
Regulars--which they did not permit those of the parent Abbey, in
Wales, to assume, but addressed them only as Canons or Seculars. It was
by this distinction--“I am holier than thou”--that they endeavoured to
justify their “unfilial conduct,” and promote their own ascendancy, in
their connection with Old Llanthony. [But in the Charters they
are often called _Regulars_.]
It seems uncertain at what precise period the title or designation of
Canons was assumed in the church; but the first Regulars we read of
were those employed by Pope Alexander II., in his mission to St. John
Lateran. But so irregular, says a historian, were those Regulars, and
so addicted to crimes, that even Pope Boniface VIII. was forced to
drive them away, and placed Secular Canons in their room.
They were introduced into England about the middle of the seventh
century.
[335] The paper is entitled, “LICENTIA PER REGEM EDWARDUM QUARTUM, pro
unione Prioratûs de Llanthony _Prima_, in Wallia, Prioratui de
Lanthony juxta Gloucestriam.”
[336] In the Original, the contrast between the two monasteries,
in their position and outward circumstances, is thus picturesquely
and forcibly drawn. Speaking of the introduction of the old Canons
to their new cells on the Severn, he says--Nam valdè dissimiliter
sibi respondere experti sunt, urbem Gloucestriæ et montem
Hatyre [Hatterilhills], et fluvium Sabrinæ, et aquam
Hodanie; _Anglos_, ditissimos et Wallenses pauperrimos: Illic,
agros fertiles; hîc saltus steriles, unde illorum copia blandientæ
illecti; istorum inopia urgente pertæsi locum istum, nec hominum quorum
libet nec dum religiosorum inhabitatione dignum censuerunt.
The next is quite in keeping:--
Audivi quidem dici et ex parte credo, quosdam linguæ levitate (et
utinam non odii livore) desiderâsse ut quilibet hujus Ecclesiæ
lapis _lepus_ foret: alios autem, quod in pace illorum dixerim, ore
sacrilego impetisse ut Ecclesia cum omnibus officinis abyssi voragine
absorberetur! Omnes verò Ecclesiæ hujus redditus pro suo
arbitrio expenderunt; illic excelsa et decentia officinarum ædificia
fabricantes; hìc verò fabricata situ et vetustate deferentes.
Et quoniam eis indignissimum videbatur ut locus [old Llanthony] tam
antiqua religione sacer et tam amplis possessionibus ditatus, omninò
virorum religiosorum residentiâ destitueretur, destinare solebant
genes debiles, et abjectiores, qui nec sibi nec aliis multum prodesse
valebant, qui non immeritò cum Apostolo dicere poterant:
_tanquam purgamenta fratrum facti sumus omnium paripsima usque
adhuc_.--_Pri. de Lanth. ord. S. Aug._
[337] In old writings it is spelt Hodenay, Hondy, Hodenie, &c.
[338] We have not introduced the original Welsh; but the reader may see
the whole in the “Historie of Cambria, now called Wales, a part
of the most famous Yland of Brytane, by David Powel, Doctor in
Divinitie, [=c] privilegio. 1584.”
[339] State of Europe during the Middle Ages.--_Hallam._
[340] Ibid.
[341] Hallam’s Middle Ages.
[342] Whewel.
[343] Sir Thomas More said to his lady that the consideration of the
time--for it was Lent--should restrayne her from so scolding her
servants. “_Tush, tush_, my lord,” said she; “_Lookye! here is one step
to heavenward_,”--shewing him a frier’s girdle. “Alas! I fear me,”
said he, “this _step_ will not bring you up one step higher.”--_Camd.
Remains_, quoted Brit. Monach. p. 173.
[344] Dugdale gives it at £71. 3_s._ 4_d._; Speed at £112. 1_s._ 5_d._
At the Dissolution, John Ambrose was Prior, and with John Nealand and
three other Canons subscribed to the Supremacy in 1534.
[345] See the notice of Tinterne Abbey.
[346] The north aisle is occupied by a wash-house and skittle-ground.
The cloisters, dormitories, and other offices are used for the
reception of visitors, under the direction of a resident steward.
Latterly, the ruins appear to have suffered little from time or
desecration. The western front is very perfect and beautiful, but the
tracery of the great window is obliterated. The owner of the property
is Walter Savage Landor, Esq., the poet.--_Archæol. Journ._
[347] _Edition_ 1806; but serious dilapidations have taken place since
then, and even within three or four years. Great credit is due to
the house of Beaufort for the pains taken in the conservation of the
religious houses and castles that have fallen to its possession and
custody; and it is very gratifying to know that the example is followed
by the present Proprietor of Llanthony.
[348] London: Pickering.
[349] Now, in Walter de Troucestre’s Chron., we read,
“A.D. 1301, on the first day of April, being Easter-eve,
the Church of Llanthony, near Gloucester, was entirely burnt to the
bare walls, together with its _four_ belfries, nor did any bell remain
that was not either broken or melted.”--_Roberts._
[350] Supposed by some to have been the Sacristy or Vestiary.--See
preceding pages.
[351] See Tinterne Abbey: Descrip. of Dole.
[352] Monasticon Anglicanum, vol. iii. Orat. August.
[353] The Rules--of which the above are but a meagre and
imperfect outline--are expressed with great beauty and simplicity
in the original, to which the reader is again referred. It is worth
mentioning that the celebrated Thomas à Kempis was a monk of this
Order; and, perhaps, no devotional work has appeared in so many
languages, or run through so many editions, as his “_De Imitatione
Christi_.”
[354] The tracts written, and supposed to be written, by him, were
published by Bertrand Tissier in 1662.
[355] Vol. iii. page 66.
[356] Conveyances of smoke by holes in the walls are of very ancient
date in English castles; but the earliest certain instance of chimneys,
properly so called, is understood to occur in some castles abroad,
about the year 1347.
[357] See Raglan Castle, description and woodcut, _ante_.
[358] The Castle of Grosmont, by a grant of King John, belonged to the
family of Breoses, but afterwards to Hubert de Burgh, who, to “calm
a court tempest,” resigned it with three others to Edward III. See
description of the Castle in this work.
[359] Thomas’s Glendower, 132
[360] Memoirs of Owen Glendower, 1822.
[361] See the preceding account of Raglan Castle.
[362] “Secunda urbicula, quam Burrium Antoninus dixit, sedet ubi
Brithin profluens Iscae commiscetur, Britannis hodie, transpositis
literis, Brumbegie pro _Burenbegie_, et Caer-Uske--Gyraldo Castrum
Oscæ--et Anglis Usk, nunc solum Castri ampli ruinas ostendit, quod
amænissimé intersidet inter Iscam flumen, et Oilwy rivulum ...”
[363] Monuments Antiqua, Kennet’s Rom. Antiq., Tacitus, Vegetius de re
Militari, Thomas, p. 141.
[364] We do not read of any nuns having been “stolen from the nunnery”
of Uske; but as the reader may be aware, poor Sir Osbert Giffard paid
severely for his sacrilegious gallantry in stealing not one but _two_
nuns out of Wilton Abbey. He was ordered never to enter a nunnery more!
never to be in the presence of a nun without special leave of his
Diocesan. Nor was this enough: he was condemned to go thrice “naked in
his shirt and breeches” to the parish church of W., though not, it is
said, in presence of the nuns; to be each several time beaten with a
rod, much to the comfort of his own soul, and the edification of the
by-standers; and so, also, in Salisbury market, and in Shaftesbury
church. He was condemned, moreover, to doff the insignia of knighthood,
and don a coarse garment of russet, trimmed with lamb or sheep’s wool;
to wear calf-skin on his nether extremities, and not to wear any shirt
after flagellation. And all this ignominious treatment to be rigorously
enforced, until he, the said Osbert, should have been three years in
the Holy Land, or recalled by royal authority.--_Brit. Monachism_, iii.
161. _County Hist._
[365] The town is incorporated and governed by a portreeve who has
concurrent jurisdiction with the county magistrates, a recorder,
two bailiffs, and burgesses. The recorder appoints the burgesses,
from among whom the portreeve is chosen at a court-leet, on a day
previous to St. Luke’s day, or the 29th of October. The recorder is
appointed by the lord of the borough. Four constables are chosen at
an annual court-leet of the lord of the manor of Uske, who is also
lord of the borough, although the latter is no part of the manor.
The quarter-sessions are held alternately here and at Monmouth. The
town-house, erected by the Duke of Beaufort, is a handsome building.
There are monthly fairs, and the inhabitants, besides the japan ware
already mentioned, are occupied in the salmon fishery and agriculture.
A free grammar-school for boys was founded here in 1621, by Roger
Edwards, with almshouses for twelve poor persons, and an exhibition
at Oxford. These almshouses, forming three sides of a quadrangle,
have been recently rebuilt. In the main street the houses are much
scattered, and ornamented by intervening gardens, which give an air of
healthy cheerfulness to the place. The Wesleyans, Independents, and
Roman Catholics, have all their meeting-houses or chapels.--_Parl. Gaz._
[366] Or in the elegant lines of Ausonius:--
“Nec te puniceo rutilantem viscere salmo
Transierim, latæ cujus vaga verbera caudæ
Gurgite de medio summas reseruntur in undas.”
[367] See vol i. of this work, art. “Arundel.”
[368] A.D. 1189. Hen. Rex ... dedit Maritagium Isabellæ, filiæ Ricardi
Strongbow. Willelmo Marescallo primo, et sic factus
est Comes totius Pembrochiæ, et dominus totius hæreditatis.--_Will.
Worcest._
[369] See history of Tinterne Abbey, _ante_ p. 44.
[370] See his character as already given in this work.
[371] See the original, as above.--Tinterne, p. 46.
[372] Gilbert Mareschal, a principal and most potent peere of the
realm, proclaimed here a Disport of running on horseback with launces,
which they called Tourneaments, under the name of _Fortunie_,
making a scorne of the King’s authority, whereby these Tourneaments
were inhibited. To which place, when a great number of the nobility and
gentry were assembled, it fortuned that Gilbert himselfe, as he ranne
at tilt, by occasion that his flinging horse brake bridle and cast him,
was trampled under foote, and so pitifully died.--_Chronicle._
[373] Among his other feats “of spirit and prowess,” the following,
recorded by the grave monk of St. Albans, is sufficiently
“characteristic:”--About this time, William de Valence, residing
at Hertfort Castle, as it is said, rode to the parke of Heathfeld,
belonging to the Bishop of Ely, and there, hunting without any leave,
went to the bishop’s manor-house; and there readily finding nothing
to drink but ordinary beer, and, swearing and cursing the drink and
those who made it, broke open the butlery doors. After all his company
had drunk their fills of the best wines in the bishop’s cellars, he
pulled the spigots out of the vessels, and let out the rest upon
the floor; and then a servant of the house hearing the noise, and
running to see what the matter was, they laughed him to scorn, and so
departed.--_Dugd._ B. 774, Paris, 855.
[374] This Earl of Pembroke fell at the battle of Bayonne, in June,
1296, being the 23d of Edw. I., and was buried in St. Edmond’s chapel,
Westminster.
[375] Scotticé, _Peel_, or castle.
[376] Penbrock, Penbrok, Pembrok, or Pembroke: names of the same places
and persons, all variously spelt in the original deeds.
[377] These jousts and tournaments were used a long time, says the
chronicle, and with such slaughter of gentlemen in all places, but
in this England most of all--since that King Stephen brought
them in--that by divers decrees of the Church they were forbidden,
upon paine that whosoever therein were slaine should want Christian
buriall in church or churchyard: and hiere with us King Henrie
the Third, by advice of his sages, made an Act of Parliament, that
their heires who transgressed in this kind should be disinherited.
Howbeit, contrary to the said law, so good and wholesome, this naughty
and wicked custome was practised a great while, and grew not quite
out of use before the happie daies of Kinge Edward the Third,
[Matt. Paris, 1248.] In the present instance, the Earl was a youth of
but seventeen; but inspired with the manly courage of his forefathers,
adventured to tilt with Syr John St. John, by an unlucky slip of
whose lance young Hastings was run through the body, and suddenly died.
He was a person of so noble disposition that, in bounty and courtesy,
he exceeded most of his degree. But, adds the chronicle, his untimely
death was then thought by many to be a judgment upon the family in
regard that Aymer de Valence, his ancestor, was one of those who gave
sentence of death upon Thomas, Earl of Lancaster; for it was observed,
that after that judgment so given, _none of the succeeding_ Earls ever
saw his father, nor any father of them took delight in seeing his child!
[378] The reader may refer to our account of this transaction in
the history of Raglan, in which, also, sketches of the Earls of
Pembroke, of the house of Herbert, are given.
[379] Hywel y Fwyall, a British chieftain, is described by the
Welsh bards as having commanded a body of his countrymen, as a corps of
reserve, at the battle of Cressy; and by his seasonable advance, and
valorous incursion upon the French lines, to have materially added to
the acceleration of victory.--_Ow. Glendwr_, 33.
[380] The Plantagenets are at the plough; while the descendants of the
knaves that served them are at the helm of public affairs.
[381] See Speed, p. 465.
[382] See the Drama of Richard III., Act V.
[383] See also the Enumeration as given by Shakspeare.
[384] Thomas’s “Glendwr,” 1822.
[385] It is mentioned as a curious genealogical fact, that Cromwell was
descended from Cadwgan, second son of Bleddyn-ap-Cynfyn, founder of
the third royal tribe. The family name was anciently Williams; Morgan
Williams, of Nantchurch, in Cardiganshire, married the sister of Thomas
Cromwell, the minister Earl of Essex, and was succeeded by his son,
Sir Richard Cromwell, of Hinchinbroke, in Huntingdonshire, who first
assumed the name of Cromwell. He was father to Sir Henry Cromwell, the
grandfather, by Robert, the second son of Oliver, the “Protector.”
Yorke--Thomas’ Mem. of Owen Glendwr, 225.
[386] _Caer-Tyf_--Castle or fort on the Taafe.--See Warner, p. 46.
[387] Powel’s Hist. p. 111; also, Warner’s Tour, p. 47
[388] Tanner’s Not. Monast.; Thomas’s Mems. of Glendower; Coxe’s Tour.
[389] Excursions in Wales. 1851.
[390] Its Welsh name is _Dynbych-y-Pyscoed_,--_piscium_ copia admodum
celebre, ut Britannicé Tenby-Piscoid denominatur.--_Gyrald._
[391] Of this inundation, which swamped part of Holland, and sent a new
colony to Wales, Drayton sings:--
“When wrathful Heaven the clouds so liberally bestowed,
The seas--then wanting room to lay their boist’rous load--
Upon the Belgian coast their pampered stomachs cast,
That peopled cities sank into the mighty waste.
The Flemings were enforced to take them to their oars,
To try the setting main to find out firmer shores.
When, as this spacious Isle them entrance did allow,
To plant the Belgian stock upon this goodly brow;
These nations, that their tongues did naturally affect,
Both generally forsook the British dialect.”
[392] There was also a chapel, dedicated to St. Julian, on the quay;
the free chapel of St. John’s, founded by the Valences, or Valentias,
with a lazar-house and almshouse. The modern charities of Tenby are
liberally supported.
[393] See his Memoirs of Owen Glendwr, p. 61, to which we are indebted
for much information on this subject.
[394] See vol. i. of this work, Castles and Abbeys, pp. 155, 156.
[395] “The first day he read the _first book_ to a great concourse of
people, and afterwards entertained all the poor of the town; on the
second day he read the _second book_, and entertained all the doctors
and chief scholars; and on the third day he read the _third book_, and
entertained all the young scholars, soldiers, and burgesses.”
[396] The rivulet here mentioned is that which supplied the ancient
ponds, and is shown on the right of the engraved picture. On the left
is seen the church with its tall embattled tower--much resembling an
Italian campanile--of Norman workmanship, and a style peculiar to
this county. On the foreground is the dilapidated framework of an
ancient cottage, with a chimney common to the country. This relic is
supposed to belong to an era not less remote than that of the castle.
To the right of the engraving, the promontory of St. Gowan’s Head is
seen closing the distant horizon; and directly in front, the sea view
presents an unlimited expanse of waters.
[397] Capellam nostri Castelli de Nethe, cum omni decima procurationis
nostræ dæmus, in annona, et cateris rebus, et cum omni decima hominum
mestrorum illius provincia, viz.: Francorum et Anglorum, etc., etc.
[398] Dat. per manum H. de Well, Arch. de Well, apud Burbeche,
vj Januarii, anno regni nostri ix.
[399] See note regarding this name, _ante_ p. 305.
[400] Edward II. is also said to have found a temporary asylum
in the parish of Llangynwyd-fawr, in the county of Glamorgan. He
had interested himself much in the concerns of his Welsh subjects,
arbitrating the feuds, and determining the disputes among the
chieftains. In the day of adversity, these condescensions were repaid
with loyal devotion to his person; and when harassed by his barons,
and deserted by his English subjects, he found a brief sanctuary in
Wales, at Neath Abbey, and also, as other writers conjecture, at
Tinterne.
[401] Or Grenville, Grainvil, Greenfeld--various spellings for the same
name.
[402] See Tewkesbury, vol. i. of this work, p. 172.
[403] On the authority of Girald. Cambrens.; _query_, Gwentiana, from
Gwent, fair?
[404] Tourist in Wales, (1851,) p. 130.
[405] This and most others of the native patronymics are all variously
spelt by different writers.
[406] Nevertheless, the old maxim of ἀριστον μεν ὐδωρ has lost
nothing of its truth as a medicinal agent in the treatment of human
maladies. The superstitious belief that once carried the invalid to
drink, “nothing doubting,” of some distant well, necessitated, in many
instances, a total change of scenes and habits, which could hardly fail
to prove beneficial in many cases, in which the comforts of home and
the established rules of treatment had been found quite ineffectual.
The cures ascribed to hydropathy in our own time are, in many cases,
not a whit less wonderful than those ascribed by monkish legends to the
holy wells of England and Wales. The only difference is, that while
tradition affirms that new _limbs_ were known to sprout out [as in the
claw of a lobster] by the plentiful use of certain waters, hydropathics
restrict themselves to the reproduction of _lungs_ only; so that the
modern wells have rather an advantage over the ancient in the art of
miracle-working.
[407] This daughter afterwards married Sir Henry le Scrope, Knt.
[408] Near the entrance to the lawn in front of the castle, on the
road leading to Carew village and church, stands one of the early
Crosses, in the centre of which is an elaborate inscription, but
which cannot now be deciphered.--_Prescot_, 164.
[409] G. H. Warrington, Esq. See “Thomas’ Glendwr,” 1822.
[410] See the particulars as related in the chronicles of Speed and
others.
[411] Camden.
[412] The Earl being at the time Lord Steward of the King’s
household.--_Clarend._, vol. i. p. 58.
[413] _Vide_ Dec. Lanfr. Fosb. 67.
[414] Sanctor. Patrum. Reg. Monast. Louv. 12mo. 1571, fol. 9-51. Joh.
de Turre Cremata, Concordia Regularum, &c., quoted in the Brit. Monach.
p. 68.
[415] So far we have followed Stevens; but according to other
authorities, he seems to have forgotten that the ancient Benedictines
wore a _coif_ upon the head. The “Specimen Monochologiæ” clothes the
Benedictine monk with breeches.--_V. Brit. Mon._
[416] His work on Osteology--written during the time he acted as
Demonstrator in one of the metropolitan schools, and before he had
reached his twentieth year--did him great credit.
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