WERNDEE—FAMILY PRIDE—LANTHONY ABBEY—OLD CASTLE.

About two miles from Abergavenny is Werndee, a poor patched-up house: though once a mansion of no less magnificence than antiquity, it is now only interesting as being considered to have been the spot where the prolific Herbert race was first implanted in Britain. Henry de Herbert, chamberlain to king Henry the First, is supposed to have been their great ancestor. Of the vast possessions that formerly supported the grandeur of the Herberts, the inheritance of Mr. Proger, the last lineal descendant from the elder branch of this family, who died about twenty years since, had dwindled to less than two hundred a year. Mr. Coxe relates an anecdote of this gentleman’s pride of ancestry, which may be compared with the remarks on Perthir; [313] at the same time, it conveys a brief outline of the family’s genealogy.

Mr. Proger accidentally met a stranger near his house, who made various enquiries respecting the prospects and local objects of the situation; and at length demanded, “Pray, whose is this antique mansion before us?”—“That, Sir, is Werndee: a very ancient house; for out of it came the earls of Pembroke of the first line, and the earls of Pembroke the second line; the lords Herbert of Cherbury, the Herberts of Coldbrook, Rumney, Cardiff, and York; the Morgans of Acton; the earl of Hunsdon; the Jones’s of Treowen and Lanarth, and all the Powells. Out of this house also, by the female line, came the dukes of Beaufort.”—“And pray, Sir, who lives there now?”—“I do, Sir.”—“Then pardon me, Sir—do not lose sight of all these prudent examples; but come out of it yourself; or ’twill tumble and crush you.”

A principal excursion from Abergavenny is that which leads northward to Lanthony abbey, a majestic ruin seated in a deep recess of the Black mountains, at the very extremity of the county. The first part of the route lies through a romantic pass between the Skyridd and Sugar-loaf mountains, upon the Hereford turnpike. Proceeding about two miles, the church of Landeilo Bertholly appears on the right; and not far from it an antique mansion called the White-house, a residence of the Floyers. Another ancient house occurs at the village of Llanvihangel Crickhornell, seen through groves of firs, lately a seat of the Arnolds, but now occupied as a farm-house. From this spot a ditch-like road, almost impracticable for carriages, strikes off among the mountains,

“Through tangled forests, and through dang’rous ways,”

carried upon precipices impendent over the brawling torrent of the Hondy. Sometimes the road opens to scenes of the most romantic description, where, at an immense depth beneath, the torrent is seen raging in a bed of rocks, and mountains of the most imposing aspect rise from the valley,—

“The nodding horrors of whose shady brows
Threat the forlorn and wand’ring traveller.”

Immediately to the left of the road rises the Gaer, a huge rocky hill crowned with an ancient encampment. On the opposite side of the river, fearfully hanging on a steep cliff, and beneath a menacing hill bristled with innumerable craigs, is the romantic village of Cwmjoy. Landscapes of the boldest composition would be continual, but that the road, formed into a deep hollow, and overtopped by hedge-row elms, excludes the traveller from almost every view but that of his embowered track. The pedestrian, however, is at liberty, while ranging among heaths and fields above the road, to enjoy the wild grandeur of the country, which will hardly fail to repay him for his additional toil.

In the deep gloomy vale of Ewias, encircled by the barren summits of the Black mountains, but enjoying some degree of local cultivation, and enlivened by the crystalline Hondy, is situated the ruin of Lanthony Abbey.

Lanthony Abbey

Venerable and grand, but wholly devoid of ornament, it partakes of the character of the surrounding scenery. Not a single tendril of ivy decorates the massive walls of the structure, and but a sprinkling of shrubs and light branchy trees fringe the high parapets, or shade the broken fragments beneath.

“Where rev’rend shrines in Gothic grandeur stood,
The nettle or the noxious night-shade spreads;
And ashlings, wafted from the neighbouring wood,
Through the worn turrets wave their trembling heads.”

The area of the church is not very extensive; the length is 212 feet; the breadth 50; and it measures 100 across the transepts. The roof has long since fallen in, and a great part of the south wall is now a prostrate ruin; but the view afforded of the interior, in consequence, is extremely grand and picturesque. A double row of pointed arches, reposing on massive piers, separate the side ailes from the nave; above which, divided from the Gothic form by a strait band of fascia, is a series of small circular arches: an intermixture and arrangement of the two forms that characterize the earliest use of Gothic architecture. Two lofty arches, rising from the middle of the church, still sustain a massive portion of the tower, whose doubtfully poised and ponderous bulk seriously menaces the adventurous explorer of the ruin. The grandeur of the western front cannot be passed unnoticed; nor, looking over the fragments of the choir, the fine view of the inside ruin, seen through the great eastern arch of the tower; neither is a small chapel adjoining the south transept, with a well-formed engrained roof, to be neglected: the transept is remarkable for a large Norman archway that led into the south aile of the choir.

Many portions of building appear in detached heaps near the abbey church, particularly a bold arch in a neighbouring barn, which seems to have formed the principal entrance to the abbey. Among these the natives point out a low subterraneous passage, faced with hewn stone, which they suppose to have had a connexion with Old Castle, about three miles distant.

St. David, the uncle of king Arthur (say ancient legends), was so struck with this sequestered recess, then almost unconscious of a human footstep, that he built a chapel on the spot, and passed many years in it as a hermit. William, a retainer of the earl of Hereford’s in the reign of William Rufus, being led into the valley in pursuit of a deer, espied the hermitage. The deep solitude of the place, and the mysterious appearance of the building, conspired to fill him with religious-enthusiasm; and he instantly disclaimed all worldly enjoyments for a life of prayer and mortification.

In a curious account of the abbey, written by one of its monks, which is preserved in Dugdale’s Monasticon, and translated into English by Atkyns, in his History of Gloucestershire, it is recorded, that “He laid aside his belt and girded himself with a rope; instead of fine linen, he covered himself with hair-cloth; and instead of his soldier’s robe, he loaded himself with weighty irons. The suit of armour, which before defended him from the darts of his enemies, he still wore as a garment to harden him against the soft temptations of his old enemy Satan; that, as the outward man was afflicted by austerity, the inner-man might be secured for the service of God. That his zeal might not cool, he thus crucified himself, and continued this hard armour on his body until it was worn out with rust and age.”

His austerity of life, and sanctity, not only drew to him a colleague (Ernesi, chaplain to Maud wife of Henry the First), but excited the reverence of many high characters, and induced Hugh de Laci, earl of Hereford, to found a priory of regular canons of the order of St. Austin on the site of the Hermitage. The institution adopted William’s mortifying system, and its reputation occasioned numerous donations to be offered; but they were constantly refused, and the acquisition of wealth deprecated as a dreadful misfortune. William was determined “to dwell poor in the house of God.” The monk of Lanthony comically relates, that “Queen Maud, not sufficiently acquainted with the sanctity and disinterestedness of William, once desired permission to put her hand into his bosom; and when he with great modesty submitted to her importunity, she conveyed a large purse of gold between his coarse shirt and iron boddice; and thus by a pleasant and innocent subtlety administered some comfortable relief to him. But oh the wonderful contempt of the world! He displayed a rare example, that the truest happiness consists in possessing little or nothing! He complied, indeed, but unwillingly, and only with a view that the queen might employ her devout liberality in adorning the church.” His scruples thus overcome, a new church on a more magnificent plan was erected (that which now appears); it soon displayed the usual pomp of the craft, and in less than thirty years the monks came to one opinion, that “the outward man” deserved consideration; that the “place was unfit for a reasonable creature, much less for religious persons:” nay some said, that “they wished every stone of the foundation, “a stout hare;” others, still more wicked, “that every stone was at the bottom of the sea.” Hence, in the year 1136, we find a new Lanthony abbey built and consecrated near Gloucester, which, although at first only a cell to our abbey, soon assumed a priority over the parent foundation. The treasures, library, rich vestments, and even bells, were removed to the new house: the old Lanthony then came to be considered as a prison by the fat monks of the Severn, who sent thither only “their old and useless members.”

In doleful mood the monk complains, “We are made the scum and outcast of the brethren.”—“They permitted the monastery to be reduced to such poverty, that the friars were without surplices, and compelled to perform the duties of the church against the customs and rules of the order. Sometimes they had no breeches, and could not attend divine service.” Thus it appears, that eventually the condition of the monks, though sore against their wills, reverted to the intention of their founder. The monastery continued in this unthriving state till the dissolution of those concerns; when, according to Dugdale, the abbey near Gloucester was valued at 648l. 19s. 11d. and this in Monmouthshire at 71l. 3s. 2d.

Oldcastle, a little village on the eastern slope of the Black mountains which skirt the vale of Ewias on the right, is supposed by Gale and Stukeley to have been the ancient Blestium, but upon grounds that are very inconclusive: true it is, however, that several encampments near the spot wear a Roman character, and they were in the habit of raising such camps near their station. But the place is more noticed as having been the residence of Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, the companion of Henry the Fifth, and afterwards chief of the Lollards, and martyr to their religious views. His ancient mansion, called the court-house, was taken down about thirty years ago; so that nothing now remains to satisfy the antiquary.

But the picturesque traveller will hardly fail of a lively interest, while, traversing the superior heights of the neighbouring mountains, he views the grand extent of the Monmouthshire wilds, and traces the different combinations of its majestic hills, which in some parts range into the most sinuous forms, in others extend for many miles into direct longitudinal ridges; or, when, withdrawing from the sterile dignity of the high lands, his eye gratefully reposes on the gentle vallies that sweep beneath their brows, enlivened by glistening streams, and rich in all the luxuriance of high cultivation.