The Ruins of Hawarden Castle occupy a lofty eminence, guarded on the S. by a steep ravine, and on the other sides by artificial banks and ditches, partly favoured by the formation of the ground. The space so occupied measures about 150 yards in diameter. Upon the summit stands the Keep, towering some 50 feet above the main ward, and some 200 feet above the bottom of the ravine.

“The place presents,” says Mr. G. T. Clark, “in a remarkable degree the features of a well-known class of earthworks found both in England and in Normandy. This kind of fortification by mound, bank and ditch was in use in the ninth, tenth, and even in the eleventh centuries, before masonry was general. [13] The mound was crowned with a strong circular house of timber, such as in the Bayeaux tapestry the soldiers are attempting to set on fire. The Court below and the banks beyond the ditches were fenced with palisades and defences of that character.”

It was usual after the Conquest to replace these old fortifications with the thick and massive masonry characteristic of Norman Architecture. Hawarden, however, bears no marks of the Norman style though the Keep is unusually substantial. It appears, according to the best authorities, [14] to be the work of one period, and that, probably, the close of the reign of Henry III. or the early part of that of Edward I. Hence Roger Fitzvalence, the first possessor after the Conquest, and the Montalts, who held it by Seneschalship to Hugh Lupus, must have been content to allow the old defences to remain, as any masonry constructed by them could scarcely have been so entirely removed as to show no trace of the style prevalent at the time.

The Keep is circular, 61 feet in diameter, and originally about 40 feet high. The wall is 15 feet thick at the base, and 13 feet at the level of the rampart walk—dimensions of unusual solidity even at the Norman period, and rare indeed in England under Henry III. or the Edwards. The battlements have been replaced by a modern wall, but the junction with the old work may be readily detected. In the Keep were two floors—the lower, no doubt, a store room without fire-place or seat—the upper a state room lighted from three recesses and entered from the portcullis chamber.

Next to this last is the Chapel, or rather Sacrarium, with a cinquefoil-headed doorway, and a small recess for a piscina, with a projecting bracket and fluted foot. Against the West wall is a stone bench, and above it a rude squint through which the elevation of the Host could be seen from the adjoining window recess. Of the two windows, one is square, the other lancet-headed. The altar is modern. There is a mural gallery in the thickness of the wall running round nearly the whole circle of the Keep, and with remarkably strong vaulting.

Descending from the Keep and inclosing the space below, were two walls or curtains, as they are technically called. That on the N. side, 7 feet thick and 25 feet high, is still tolerably perfect, and within it lay the way between the Keep and the main ward. Of the South curtain only a fragment remains attached to the Keep.

The entrance to the court-yard—now the so-called bowling-green—was on the N. side. On the South side, on the first floor (the basement being probably a cellar), was the Hall, 30 feet high from its timber floor to the wall plate. Two lofty windows remain and traces of a third, and between them are the plain chamfered corbel whence sprung the open roof. Below the hall is seen a small ambry or cupboard in the wall.

Outside the curtain on the East side, where the visitor ascends to the Courtyard, are remains of a kitchen and other offices with apartments over, resting upon the scarp of the ditch.

From the N.E. angle of the curtain projects a spur work protected by two curtains, one of which, 4 feet thick and 24 feet high, only remains, with a shouldered postern door opening on the scarp of the ditch at its junction with the main curtain. This spur work was the entrance to the Castle, and contains a deep pit, now called the Dungeon, and a Barbican or Sally-port beyond. The pit is 12 feet deep and measures 27 feet x 10 feet across. It may possibly have served the double purpose of defence and of water supply—there being no other apparent source. In the footbridge across the pit may have been a trap-door, or other means for suddenly breaking communication in case of need. Overhead probably lay the roadway for horsemen with a proper drawbridge. The thickness of the walls indicates their having been built to a considerable height, sufficient probably to form parapets masking the passage of the bridge.

In the mound beyond, or counterscarp, was the gate-house and Barbican, containing a curious fan-shaped chamber up a flight of steps. While the earth-works surrounding the Castle are the oldest part of the fortifications—possibly, thinks Mr. Clark, of the tenth century—the dressed masonry and the different material of the Barbican and Dungeon-pit, together with some of the exterior offices, show them to be of somewhat later date than the main building. They have, in fact, as Mr. Clark remarks, more of an unfinished than a partially destroyed appearance. The squared and jointed stones, so easily removable and ready to hand, [16] proved no doubt a tempting quarry to subsequent owners of Hawarden, who perhaps shared the faults of a period when neither the architectural nor historical value of ancient remains was generally appreciated.

It now remains to trace the history of the Castle, so far as it is known to us.

In 1264 a memorable conference took place within its walls between Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, and Llewelyn, Prince of North Wales, at which each promised to aid the other in promoting the execution of their respective plans. The King, who, with the Prince of Wales, was the Earl’s prisoner, was compelled to renounce his rights, and the Castle was given up to Llewelyn. On the suppression of de Montfort’s rebellion the Castle reverted to the Crown, and Llewelyn was called upon by the Papal Legate, Ottoboni, to surrender it. This he at first declined, but being deserted by the Earl, who at the same time, in order to put an end to the conflict, offered to him his daughter Eleanor in marriage agreed afterwards to a treaty by which the Castle was to be destroyed, and Robert de Montalt to be reinstated in the possession of his lands in Hawarden, but to be restrained from restoring the fortification for thirty years.

This stipulation appears to have been violated, for in 1281 the Welsh rebelled, and under David and Llewelyn (who then made up their quarrel), an attack was made by night upon the Castle, then styled Castrum Regis, which was successful. Roger de Clifford, Justiciary of Chester, was taken prisoner, and the Castle with much bloodshed and cruelty stormed and partly burnt on Palm Sunday. The outrage was repeated in the next year (Nov. 6th, 1282), when the Justice’s elder son, also Roger Clifford, was slain. Soon after this Llewelyn died, Wales was entirely subjugated, and David executed as a traitor.

To this period may most probably be assigned the present structure. A Keep, such as that now standing is not likely to have been successfully assaulted in two successive years; nor does internal evidence favour the idea that it was the actual work taken by the Welsh. Robert, the last of the Montalts, was a wealthy man, and in all probability it was during his Lordship, between 1297 and 1329, that the Castle, as we now see it, was built. Though the unusual thickness of the walls of the Keep might be thought more in keeping with the Norman period, the general details, as already stated, the polygonal mural gallery and interior, and the entrance, evidently parts of the original work, are very decidedly Edwardian.

Of the subsequent history of the Castle, we have unfortunately nothing to record until we come to the Civil War between Charles the First and the Parliament. On Nov. 11th, 1643, Sir William Brereton, who had declared for the Parliament, appeared with his adherents at Hawarden Castle, where he was welcomed by Robert Ravenscroft and John Aldersey, who had charge of it in the name of the King. Sir William established himself in the Castle, and harassed the garrison of Chester, which was for the King, by cutting off the supplies of coals, corn and other provisions, which they had formerly drawn from the neighbourhood. Meanwhile the Archbishop of York, writing from Conway to the Duke of Ormond announced the betrayal of the Castle and appealed for assistance. In response to this a force from Ireland was landed at Mostyn in the same month, and employed to reduce the fortress, garrisoned by 120 men of Sir Thomas Middleton’s Regiment. The garrison received by a trumpet a verbal summons to surrender, which gave occasion to a correspondence, followed by a further and more peremptory summons from Captain Thomas Sandford, which ran as follows:—

Gentlemen: I presume you very well know or have heard of my condition and disposition; and that I neither give nor take quarter. I am now with my Firelocks (who never yet neglected opportunity to correct rebels) ready to use you as I have done the Irish; but loth I am to spill my countrymen’s blood: wherefore by these I advise you to your fealty and obedience towards his Majesty; and show yourselves faithful subjects, by delivering the Castle into my hands for His Majesty’s use—otherwise if you put me to the least trouble or loss of blood to force you, expect no quarter for man woman or child. I hear you have some of our late Irish army in your company: they very well know me and that my Firelocks use not to parley. Be not unadvised, but think of your liberty, for I vow all hopes of relief are taken from you; and our intents are not to starve you but to batter and storm you and then hang you all, and follow the rest of that rebellious crewe. I am no bread-and-cheese rogue, but as ever a Loyalist, and will ever be while I can write or name

THOMAS SANDFORD,
Nov, 28, 1643. Captain of Firelocks.

I expect your speedy answer this Tuesday night at Broadlane Hall, where I am now, your near neighbour.

Reinforcements having arrived from Chester, this was followed by a brisk attack on the 3rd December, whereupon the garrison being short of provisions, a white flag was hung out from the walls, and the Castle surrendered on the following day to Sir Michael Emley. It was held by the Royalists for two years, but after the surrender of Chester, in Feb. 1646, Sir William Neal, the governor, capitulated (after receiving the King’s sanction—then at Oxford—) to Major-General Mytton after a month’s siege. It was probably during these operations that the specimens of stone and iron cannon balls still remaining were used.

An entry in the Commons’ Journals refers to this last event, dated 16th March, 1645.

Ordered: That Mr. Fogge the Minister shall have the sum of £50 bestowed upon him for his pains in bringing the good news of the taking of the Castle of Hawarden; and that the Committee of Lords and Commons for advance of Moneys at Haberdashers’ Hall do pay the same accordingly.

The Lords’ concurrence to be desired herein.

In the following year there is an Order “That the Castles of Hawarden, Flint, and Ruthland be disgarrisoned and demolished, all but a tower in Flint Castle, to be reserved for a gaol for the County”; and a confirmation of it follows in the next year, dated 19th July, 1647.

These orders were no doubt forthwith executed, and of Flint and Rhuddlan little now remains. At Hawarden gunpowder has been used to blow up portions of the Keep. Sir William Glynne, son of the Chief Justice, twenty or thirty years later, carried further the work of destruction. Sir John Glynne, too, is said to have made free with the materials of the Castle, and certain it is that a vast amount has been carted away and used up in walls and for other purposes. His successors, however, have done their utmost to make amends for these ravages, and to preserve the ruins from further injury. The entrance and the winding stair by which the visitor mounts to the top of the Keep are a restoration skilfully effected not long ago under the direction of Mr. Shaw of Saddleworth. The view embraces a wide range of country, North, East, and South, extending from Liverpool to the Wrekin: on the West it is bounded by Moel Fammau or Queen Mountain, on the summit of which is seen the remnant of the fallen obelisk raised to commemorate the 50th year of the reign of George III. Round about lie the Woods and the Park, presenting a happy mixture of wild and pastoral beauty; while close beneath the Old stands the New Castle, affecting in its turreted outline some degree of congruity with its prototype, but much more contrasting with it in its home-like air, and the luxury of its lawns and flower-beds.

Not less striking is the view of the Ruins from below. Here judgment and taste have combined with great natural advantages of position to produce an exceedingly picturesque effect. From the flower garden a wide sweep of lawn, flanked by majestic oaks and beeches, carries the eye up to the foot-bridge crossing the moat, thence to the ivy-mantled walls which overhang it, and upward again to the flag-topt tower that crowns the height. Clusters of ivy, and foliage here and there intervening, serve to soften and beautify the mouldering remains. The scene brings to our minds the words of the poet—

“The old order changeth, yielding place to new”;

and, conscious as we may be that society in our day has its dangers and disorders of a different and more insidious kind, we are thankful that our lot is not cast in the harsh and troublous times of our history. All around us the former scenes of rapine and violence are changed to fertility and peace. The Old Castle serves well to illustrate the contrast. Its hugely solid walls, reared 600 years ago with so much pains and skill to repel the invader and to overawe the lawless, have played their part, and are themselves abandoned to solitude and decay. Within the arches which once echoed to the clang of arms the owls have their home; while the rooks from the tree-tops around seem to chant the requiem of the past.

Ruins of Old Castle