Welsh pedigree of queen Victoria—A poet’s flattery—Castles of Monmouthshire—Geoffrey of Monmouth—Henry of Monmouth—The Kymin—Subsidiary tour—Sir David Gam—White Castle—Scenfrith—The Castle spectres—Grosmont—Lanthony Abbey.

“Monmouthshire,” as has been well observed, “though now an English county, may be justly considered the connecting link between England and Wales, as it unites the scenery, manners, and language of both.” In ancient times, it was a debatable land of another kind, when Romans, Saxons, and Normans, strove by turns against the aboriginal Britons. During the Roman invasion it was a part of the territory of the Silures, who inhabited the eastern division of South Wales, and were one of the three great Welsh tribes; but in the conflict of the Saxons, Gwent (its British name) played the most distinguished part of all, under its sovereign Utha Pendragon and the renowned king Arthur. To Gwent, moreover, if chronicles say true, we are indebted for our present sovereign lady, who is descended collaterally from its princes. Merrich, the son of Ithel, king or prince of Gwent, died without issue male, leaving one daughter, Morvyth, who espoused Gwno, great grandson to Rees ap Theodore, prince of South Wales, and lineal ancestor of Sir Owen Tudor, grandfather of Henry VII. “So that it appears,” say the Secret Memoirs of Monmouthshire, “that the kings of Scotland and England are originally descended from Morvyth, this Gwentonian prince’s daughter, and heir to Meyrick, last king of Gwent, who, according to several authentic British pedigrees, was lineally descended from Cadwalladar, the last king of Britain, and as our historians do testify, did prognosticate, fifteen hundred years past, that the heirs descended of his loins should be restored again to the kingdom of Britain, which was partly accomplished in king Henry VII., and more by the accession of James I. to the British throne, but wholly fulfilled in the happy union of all Britain by the glorious queen Anne; whom God long preserved of his great goodness, and the succession of the Protestant line.”

We know not what value may be attached to this illustrious ancestry by Queen Victoria; but her predecessor, Queen Elizabeth, was fond of tracing her descent from the ancient kings of her country—a predilection which the courtly Spenser does not omit to flatter in his Faerie Queene.

“Thy name, O soveraine Queene, thy realme and race,
From this renowned prince derived arre,
Who mightily upheld that royal mace
Which thou now bear’st, to thee descended farre
From mighty kings and couquerors in warre,
Thy fathers and thy grandfathers of old,
Whose noble deeds above the northern starre,
Immortall fame for ever hath enrold;
As in that old man’s booke they were in order told.”

The old man have referred to is Geoffrey of Monmouth, of whom more anon.

It is to the Norman invasion that Monmouthshire owes its castles; for the great barons were not employed by the state, as had been the case with the Saxons, to conquer the territory, but were invited to enter upon adventures at their own cost, and for their own gain. The lands they subdued became their own; they were created lords-barons over them; and castles speedily bristled up all over the territory to maintain the authority so acquired. Pennant states the number for Wales at a hundred and forty-three, of which Monmouthshire, as the frontier region between the belligerents, had of course the greatest proportion, amounting, it is said, to at least twenty-five. In these baronial lands, the writs of ordinary justices of the royal courts were not current. The barons marchers, as they were called, had recourse to their feudal lord the king in person; and the same abuses and confusion were the result which we have noticed in Herefordshire, till Henry VIII. abolished this anomalous government, divided Wales into twelve shires, and withdrew Monmouthshire into the list of the English counties. It is interesting to trace the chain of fortresses thus destined to become, still earlier than in the natural course of time, a series of ruins. They extend, in this county, along the banks of the Monnow, the Wye, and the Severn, and from Grosmont, diagonally, to the banks of the Rumney; while castellated mansions, such as Raglan, which we shall notice presently (at first only a rude fortress), arose in all quarters to keep the natives in due respect.

King Arthur, mentioned above as prince of Gwent, did not reign at Monmouth, but at Caerleon; although he is closely associated with the former place, inasmuch as the gothic room in the priory which we have pointed out, on the authority of tradition, as the study of Geoffrey of Monmouth, was in all probability the birthplace of his most heroic achievements. Geoffrey, in fact, for it is needless to attempt to conceal the fact from our readers, was an historical romancer rather than an historian. The groundwork of his celebrated performance was Brut y Breninodd, or the Chronicle of the Kings of Britain, written by Tyssilio, or St. Telian, bishop of St. Asaph, in the seventh century; but Geoffrey owns himself, that he made various additions to his original, particularly of Merlin’s prophecies. After all, however, if we may venture to express our private opinion on so recondite a subject, it seems to us that a monkish history, of the seventh century, must have been reasonably fertile in itself in wonderful incidents and legendary tales, and that in all probability Geoffrey of Monmouth deserves less credit as a romancer than he has received from one party, as well as less credit as an historian than he has received from the other.

However this may be, the work has served as a valuable storehouse for our poets and romancers. It has even supplied the story of King Lear to Shakspeare, who deepened the pathos by making Cordelia die before her father; whereas, in the original story, Lear is restored to his kingdom, and Cordelia to life. Milton drew from it his fiction of Sabrina in the Mask of Comus; and in early life he had formed the design of writing an epic poem on the subject taken up from Geoffrey by Spenser, in the second book of the Faerie Queene—

“A chronicle of Briton kings,
From Brute to Arthur’s reign.”

Dryden, also, intended to produce an epic poem on the subject of king Arthur, but he contented himself with an opera, in which he has sublimely described the British worthy

“in battle brave,
But still serene in all the stormy war,
Like heaven above the clouds; and after fight
As merciful and kind to vanquished foe
As a forgiving God.”

Pope followed, in like manner, with plentiful materials for the pavement of a certain place—good intentions; but after all, our national history has been left to the muse of Blackmore. [106]

Geoffrey was born in Monmouth, and is supposed to have been educated in the monastery, although the room pointed out as his study is evidently of a more modern date. He became archdeacon of his native town, and in 1152 was consecrated bishop of St. Asaph. This is all that is known of his history; and his works, with the exception of his great romance adverted to above, are confined to a treatise on the Holy Sacraments, and some verses on the enchanter Merlin.

Perhaps a word may not be amiss on the other worthy connected by birth with the fame and the ruins of Monmouth. Henry V. passed some of his earliest years in this county; but in his youth was transferred to Oxford, where he studied under his uncle Cardinal Beaufort, then chancellor of the university, and where, as Stowe relates, he “delighted in songs, meeters, and musical instruments.” He is thus described by the chronicler, on the authority of John of Elmham:

“This prince exceeded the meane stature of men, he was beautiful of visage, his necke long, body long and leane, and his bones small; neverthelesse he was of great marvellous strength, and passing swift in running, insomuch that he with two other of his lords, without hounds, bow, or other engine, would take a wild buck or doe in a large parke.”

Henry is usually treated as a mere warrior; and it is the custom to sneer at him as such, by those who are unable to judge of the minds of men by the spirit of the age in which they live. He was remarkable, however, for more than his military prowess, and exhibited many traits of a truly great character. Some of these are very agreeably detailed by Mr. Coxe, who relates also, from Speed, that “every day after dinner, for the space of an hour, his custom was to lean on a cushion set by his cupboard, and there he himselfe received petitions of the oppressed, which with great equitie he did redresse.” His sudden change from the wild licentiousness of his youth is described by his contemporary, Thomas de Elmham, as having taken place at the bedside of his dying father; and we need not remark that in that age, the religious feeling he exhibited on the occasion was not inconsistent with the ferocity of the hero.

“The courses of his youth promis’d it not;
The breath no sooner left his father’s body,
But that his wildness, mortified in him,
Seem’d to die too: yea, at that very moment,
Consideration like an angel came,
And whipped the offending Adam out of him;
Leaving his body as a paradise,
To envellop, and contain celestial spirits.
Never was such a sudden scholar made;
Never came reformation in a flood,
With such a heady current, scouring faults;
Nor ever hydra-headed wilfulness,
So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,
As in this king.”

Monmouth, as the half-way station between Ross and Chepstow for the tourists of the Wye, usually claims a large portion of their attention; and, independently of its historical associations, the delightful walks in the neighbourhood abundantly repay it. The views from numerous points are very beautiful; and one more especially, independently of the nearer parts of the picture, commands on all sides an expanse of country which seems absolutely unlimited.

“If among these views,” says the historical tourist, “one can be selected surpassing the rest, it is perhaps that from the summit of the Kymin, which rises from the left bank of the Wye, and is situated partly in Monmouthshire, and partly in Gloucestershire. On the centre of this eminence overhanging the river and town, a pavilion has been lately erected by subscription, to which is carried a walk, gently winding up the acclivity. . . .

“I shall not attempt to describe the unbounded expanse of country around and beneath, which embraces an extent of nearly three hundred miles. The eye, satiated with the distant prospect, reposes at length on the near views, dwells on the country immediately beneath and around, is attracted with the pleasing position of Monmouth, here seen to singular advantage, admires the elegant bend and silvery current of the Monnow, glistening through meads, in its way to the Wye, and the junction of the two rivers, which forms an assemblage of beautiful objects.

“The level summit of the Kymin is crowned with a beautiful wood, called Beaulieu Grove, through which walks are made, terminating in seats, placed at the edge of abrupt declivities, and presenting in perspective, through openings in the trees, portions of the unbounded expanse seen from the pavilion. There are six of these openings, three of which comprehend perspective views of Monmouth, stretching between the Wye and the Monnow, in different positions. At one of these seats, placed on a ledge of impending rocks, I looked down on a hanging wood, clothing the sides of the declivities, and sloping gradually to the Wye, which sweeps in a beautiful curve, from Dixon Church to the mouth of the Monnow; the town appears seated on its banks, and beyond the luxuriant and undulating swells of Monmouthshire, terminated by the Great and Little Skyrrid, the Black Mountains, and the Sugar Loaf, in all the variety of sublime and contrasted forms.”

It is not our intention to notice any of the numerous seats and mansions with which this delightful region abounds; but, leaving the tourist to make such easy discoveries for himself, we would hint to him that, while at Monmouth, he has an opportunity, without great expense of time or labour, of making himself acquainted with many interesting objects which ought to be considered as adjuncts of the tour of the Wye. Between this place and the Hay the river describes an irregular semicircle, of which the Monnow, for about half way, may be said to be the cord; and this latter stream, as the most important and beautiful tributary of the Wye, has a claim upon the pilgrim which should not be set aside.

This minor excursion, however, will not be complete without diverging a little to the left at the outset for the purpose of visiting White Castle; for this ruin is inseparably associated with the other reliques of baronial power presented by the route. It is within a short distance of Landeilo Cresseney on the Abergavenny road, where a farm will be pointed out to the traveller, called the Park, belonging to the duke of Beaufort, as the site of Old Court, formerly the residence of the valiant Sir David Gam, who, before the battle of Agincourt, reported to Henry V. that there were “enough of the enemy to be killed, enough to run away, and enough to be taken prisoners.” It is said that the children of this Welsh worthy were so numerous as to form a line extending from his house to the church. From Gladys, one of these children, the dukes of Beaufort and earls of Pembroke are descended. The farm alluded to was formerly the red deer park of Raglan Castle.

White Castle must have been constructed in the earliest period of the Norman era, if not before the conquest; and the massive ruins that still remain attest that it must have kept the country side in awe, as the abode of one of those fierce barons who were the prototypes of the giants and dragons of the romancers. This fortress, with those of Scenfrith and Grosmont on the banks of the Monnow, belonged to Brien Fitz Count, the Norman conqueror of the tract called Overwent, stretching from the Wye to Abergavenny; and they were afterwards seized by Henry III., and given by him to the celebrated Herbert de Burgh. Herbert resigned them anew to the crown, after being imprisoned and almost famished to death. Henry granted them to his son Edward Crouchback, and they afterwards fell to John of Gaunt, in the way we have related of Monmouth Castle, and became parcel of the duchy of Lancaster.

The ruins stand on the ridge of an eminence, surrounded by a moat. The walls, which are very massive, describe nearly an oval, and are defended by six round towers, not dividing the courtine in the usual way, but altogether extramural, and capable, therefore, of acting as independent fortresses, even after the inner court had been taken. The principal entrance was protected by a portcullis and drawbridge, and by an immense barbican, greatly disproportioned to the size of the castle, on the opposite site of the moat. The name of the place was Castell Gwyn, White Castle, or Castell Blanch, all which mean the same thing in British, Saxon, and Norman.

In the time of James I., it is presented as “ruinous and in decay time out of mind,” and yet, during the reign of his immediate predecessor Elizabeth, it is described in the Worthines of Wales as “a loftie princely place.”

“Three castles fayre are in a goodly ground,
Grosmont is one, on hill it builded was;
Skenfrith the next, in valley it is found,
The soyle about for pleasure there doth passe;
Whit Castle is the third of worthy fame,
The county there doth bear Whit Castle’s name,
A stately seate, a loftie princely place,
Whose beauties give the simple soyle some grace.”

Scenfrith is not more than five miles from White Castle, but the access to it is only fit for pedestrians. The ruin stands on a secluded spot in the midst of hills, and overlooks the placid Monnow, the passage of which it was no doubt its duty to guard. It is a small fortress severely simple, and exhibiting all the marks of high antiquity. There are no traces of outworks; but the walls are flanked by five circular towers. About the middle of the area is a round tower, which was the keep or citadel. Scenfrith seems to have no history peculiarly its own; it was one of “the three castles,” changing hands with them apparently as a matter of course, and that was enough for its ambition.

The road from Scenfrith to Grosmont leads through Newcastle; but the remains of the fortress, from which this place derived its name, are barely discernible, and its history has for ever perished. In the absence of human associations, however, it is well provided with those of another kind. The mount, or barrow, under which its fragments are hidden, is the haunt of spirits; and an oak tree in the neighbourhood is so completely protected by such means, that an attempt even to lop a branch is sure to be punished by supernatural power.

The ruins of Grosmont Castle stand on an eminence near the Monnow, surrounded by a dry moat, with barbican and other outworks. Its pointed arches declare it by far the youngest of the three sisters. The remains now left enclose only a small area; but walls and foundations may be traced, which show that its original size was really considerable, and this is confirmed by the presence of a spacious apartment, which no doubt formed the great baronial hall. In the reign of Henry III. it was invested by Llewellin, and the siege raised by the king; and, on another occasion, Henry retreated to Grosmont, where his troops were surprised by the Welsh as they slept in the trenches, and lost five hundred horses, besides baggage and treasure. The banks of the Monnow, from which the ruins rise, are precipitous, and tufted with oaks, and the whole scene is singularly picturesque. The hero of the village tradition is here John of Kent, or Guent, who built a bridge over the Monnow in a single night, by means of one of his familiar spirits. Many other stories as wonderful are related of him by the inhabitants; some say he was a monk, versed in the black art; others that he was a disciple of Owen Glendowr; and others that he was the great magician himself.At Grosmont the line of the Monnow turns away to the west, towards its source among the Black Mountains; but the traveller who eschews more fatigue than is necessary will take the route by Craig-gate and Crickhowell, and so get into a road which will lead him along the Honddy, a tributary of the Monnow, to the magnificent ruins of Lanthony Abbey, the furthest object we propose to him in this subsidiary tour.

“Here it was, 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 bowers,
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! Hatterel’s mountain heights,
And this fair vale of Cwias, 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.”

“After catching a transient view of the Honddy,” says archdeacon Coxe, “winding through a deep glen, at the foot of hills overspread with wood and sprinkled with white cottages, we proceeded along a hollow way, which deepened as we advanced, and was scarcely broad enough to admit the carriage. In this road, which, with more propriety might be termed a ditch, we heard the roar of the torrent beneath, but seldom enjoyed a view of the circumjacent scenery. We passed under a bridge thrown across the chasm, to preserve the communication with the fields on each side: this bridge was framed of the trunks of trees, and secured with side rails, to prevent the tottering passenger from falling in the abyss beneath. It brought to my recollection several bridges of similar construction, which I observed in Norway, which are likewise occasionally used as aqueducts, for the purposes of irrigation. Emerging from this gloomy way, we were struck with the romantic village of Cwnyoy, on the opposite bank of the Honddy, hanging on the sides of the abrupt cliff, under a perpendicular rock, broken into enormous fissures. We continued for some way between the torrent and the Gaer, and again plunged into a hollow road, where we were enclosed, and saw nothing but the overhanging hedgerows. . . . The abbey was built like a cathedral, in the shape of Roman crosses, and though of small dimensions, was well proportioned. The length, from the western door to the eastern extremity, is 210 feet; and the breadth, including two aisles, 50; the length of the transept, from north to south, 100. It was constructed soon after the introduction of the Gothic architecture, and before the disuse of the Norman, and is a regular composition of both styles. The whole roof, excepting a small fragment of the north aisle, is fallen down, and the building is extremely dilapidated. The nave alone exhibits a complete specimen of the original plan, and is separated on each side by the two aisles, by eight pointed arches, resting on piers of the simplest construction, which are divided from the upper tier of Norman arches by a straight band of fascia. From the small fragment in the northern aisle, the roofs seem to have been vaulted and engroined, and the springing columns, by which it was supported, are still visible on the wall. Four bold arches, in the centre of the church, supported a square tower, two sides of which only remain. The ornamental arch in the eastern window, which appears in the engraving of Mr. Wyndham’s Tour, and in that published by Hearne, has now fallen. The only vestiges of the choir are a part of the south wall, with a Norman door, that led into the side aisle, and the east end of the south wall; a bold Norman arch, leading from the transept into the southern aisle of the choir, still exists. The walls of the southern aisle are wholly dilapidated; and the side view of the two ranges of Gothic arches, stretching along the nave, is singularly picturesque; the outside wall of the northern aisle is entire, excepting a small portion of the western extremity; the windows of this part are wholly Norman, and make a grand appearance. In a word, the western side is most elegant; the northern side is most entire; the southern the most picturesque; the eastern the most magnificent.”

The abbey originated in a small chapel, built here as a hermitage by St. David, the titular saint of Wales; but for the account of its foundation and history, we must refer the reader to Mr. Coxe’s Tour, Dugdale’s Monasticon, or the History of Gloucestershire.

Raglan Castle—Description of the ruins—History of the Castle—The old lord of Raglan—Surrender of the fortress—Charles I. and his host—Royal weakness—The pigeons of Raglan—Death of the old lord—Origin of the steam Engine.

That magnificent specimen of what is called a castellated mansion, Raglan castle, is so interesting in itself, and at so convenient a distance from the river, that it forms an indispensable part of the tour of the Wye. The ruins stand upon an eminence, near the village of the same name, eight miles from Monmouth, and cover, with their massive forms, an area of one-third part of a mile in circumference. This includes the citadel, which was not contained within the fortress as usual, but formed a separate building, connected with it by a drawbridge. It was called Melyn y Gwent, or the Yellow Tower of Gwent. It was of a hexagon form, five stories high, defended by bastions and a moat, and surrounded with raised walks or terraces. The building was faced with hewn stone, of a greyish colour, and from its smoothness resembling polished marble.

The earliest style of this edifice dates only from the reign of Henry V.; but the greater part was probably added afterwards, when, by the marriage of Sir Charles Somerset into the house of Herbert, and the acquisition then of the lordships of Raglan, Chepstow, and Gower, the house of Beaufort became one of the greatest in the county. The building is of a description peculiar to that period in the history of Monmouthshire, when the barons had superadded to their warlike habits those of modern luxury and magnificence. Externally, the place has evidently been a strong fortress; internally a splendid mansion. The ascent to the state apartment is both noble and well contrived; while the circular staircase in the hexagon citadel, the windows of the great hall, and the chimney-pieces, with their light and elegant cornices, are in the style of modern edifices. The kitchen and butlery were connected with the hall, and indicate, by their construction, the princely hospitality of the lords of Raglan. All the rooms had chimneys, those of each floor distinct from the rest. The cellars were extensive—so were the subterranean passages and dungeons. The architecture is various, some parts of the most elegant gothic, some heavy and unwieldy, representing at once the two distinct characters of luxury and war. The southern declivity, towards the village, was laid out in fish-ponds; three parks of considerable extent supplied game and recreation; and the proprietor of this unique mansion was able, through the fertility of his surrounding estates, to maintain a garrison of eight hundred men.

“Of these noble ruins,” says Mr. Coxe, “the grand entrance is the most magnificent; it is formed by a gothic portal, flanked with two massive towers: the one beautifully tufted with ivy, the second so entirely covered, that not a single stone is visible. At a small distance, on the right, appears a third tower, lower in height, almost wholly ivyless, and with its machicolated summit, presenting a highly picturesque appearance. The porch, which still contains the grooves for two portcullises, leads into the first court, once paved, but now covered with turf, and sprinkled with shrubs. The eastern and northern sides contained a range of culinary offices, of which the kitchen is remarkable for the size of the fire-place; the southern side seems to have formed a grand suite of apartments, and the great bow window of the hall, at the south-western extremity of the court, is finely canopied with ivy. The stately hall which divides the two courts, and seems to have been built in the days of queen Elizabeth, contains the vestiges of ancient hospitality and splendour: the ceiling is fallen down, but the walls still remain; it is sixty feet in length, twenty-seven in breadth, and was the great banqueting-room of the castle. At the extremity are placed the arms of the first marquis of Worcester, sculptured in stone, and surrounded with the garter: underneath is the family motto, which fully marks the character of the noble proprietor, who defended the castle with such spirit from the parliamentary army: ‘Mutare vel timere sperno;’ ‘I scorn either to change or to fear.’ The fire-place deserves to be noticed for its remarkable size, and the singular structure of the chimney. The hall is occasionally used as a fives court.

“To the north of the hall are ranges of offices, which appear to have been butteries; beyond are the traces of splendid apartments. In the walls above I observed two chimney-pieces, in high preservation, neatly ornamented with a light frieze and cornice: the stone frames of the windows are likewise in many parts, particularly in the south front, distinguished with mouldings and other decorations, which Mr. Windham justly observes, would not be considered inelegant, even at present.

“The western door of the hall led into the chapel, which is now dilapidated; but its situation is marked by some of the flying columns, rising from grotesque heads, which supported the roof. At the upper end are two rude whole-length figures, in stone, several yards above the ground, recently discovered by Mr. Heath, under the thick clusters of ivy. Beyond the foundations of the chapel is the area of the second court, skirted with a range of buildings, which, at the time of the siege, formed the barracks of the garrison. Not the smallest traces remain of the marble fountain, which once occupied the centre of the area, and was ornamented with the statue of a white horse.

“Most of the apartments of this splendid abode were of grand dimensions, and the communications easy and convenient. The strength of the walls is still so great, that if the parts still standing were roofed and floored, it might even now be formed into a magnificent and commodious habitation.”

The fountain mentioned above was called the White Horse, from the figure from which the water played. In a note supplied by Dr. Griffin to Williams’s History of Monmouthshire, it is said that the people who showed the ruins used to exhibit part of the body of a black horse which stood in the middle of the water which supplied the castle. The cause of the change of colour was that during the siege the parliamentarians poisoned the fountain! The horse, it seems, absorbed the fatal drug, and not only became black, but when struck by any hard substance, emitted a fetid smell. It is difficult to trace the early history of the castle, from the contradictory accounts given of it by Dugdale; but in the time of Henry V. the proprietor was Sir William ap Thomas, second son of Sir Thomas ap Guillim, from whom the earls of Pembroke, Powis, and Caernarvon are descended in the male, and the dukes of Beaufort in the female line. William, the eldest son of this Sir William, was created by Edward IV. lord of Raglan, Chepstow, and Gower; and, in obedience to the royal command, he discontinued the Welsh custom of changing the surname at every descent, and took Herbert as his family name, in honour of his ancestor Herbert Fitzhenry, chamberlain to Henry I. Richard was for some time detained at Raglan in the custody of lord Herbert, who was a distinguished partisan of the house of York, and who at length died on the scaffold, at Banbury, in this cause, having previously been created earl of Pembroke. His son, by the desire of Edward IV., yielded this title to the Prince of Wales; and, dying without male issue, the castle of Raglan, and many other noble possessions devolved upon his daughter Elizabeth. The heiress married Sir Charles Somerset, natural son of the duke of Somerset, who lost his head in 1463 for his devotion to the house of Lancaster; and he, a brave soldier, a prudent statesman, and an accomplished courtier, was created by Henry VIII., for his services, earl of Worcester.

It is probable that the castle of Raglan, owed a great part of its magnificence to him. In the following reign, it is thus mentioned in the Worthines of Wales.

“Not far from thence, a famous castle fine,
That Raggland hight, stands moted almost round,
Made of freestone, upright, straight as line,
Whose workmanship in beauty doth abound.

“The curious knots, wrought all with edged toole,
The stately tower that looks ore pond and poole,
The fountain trim, that runs both day and night,
Doth yield in showe a rare and noble sight.”

Four earls of Worcester held almost royal state in this princely abode; but the fifth earl and first marquis was destined to witness its fall. He was one of the most devoted friends of Charles I.; and may be said to have defended not only his own mansion but all Monmouthshire from the parliamentary arms.

The defeat of the royal army at Marston Moor was the signal for the fall of Monmouth and of Raglan Castle. Prince Rupert immediately directed his attention to the marches of Wales, and ordered colonel Gerard to force his way through Gloucestershire by the Aust passage: but the latter was opposed by Massey, and defeated. Monmouth soon after fell into the hands of Massey by the treachery of Kirle, lieutenant-colonel to Holtby, governor of the town for Charles; and lord Worcester at Raglan, in great alarm, demanded the assistance of prince Rupert’s cavalry.

Throgmorton, on whom the command of Monmouth devolved, set out with a party of three hundred horse to surprise the castle of Chepstow, and in his absence the following brilliant exploit was performed by the royalists, which we give in the words of Sanderson. “The cavaliers from Ragland and Godridg, about break of day, lodg themselves undiscovered behind a rising ground near Monmouth, and viewing all advantages, fourty of them come up to the higher side of the town towards Hereford, having a sloping bank cast up of good height, with a ditch, over which they pass, mount the bank, and climbed over, and so got to the next part, fell upon the guard, some killed, other fled, and with an iron bar break the post chain, force the gate, and open it to the horse, who ride up with full career to the main guard, seized them, and took the rest in their beds, with colonel Broughton, four captains, as many lieutenants and ensigns, the committee, all the common souldiers, two hundred prisoners, two sakers, a drake, nine hammerguns, ammunition and provision, and five hundred muskets.”

But the fate of the war was now determined, and after the battle of Naseby Charles was unable to meet the parliamentarians in a general engagement, and retired to the castle of Raglan. Thence he secretly departed to commit himself to the Scottish army; and the marquis of Worcester was besieged at Raglan for six months. The old lord, who was then eighty-four years of age, on hearing of the landing of his son lord Glamorgan with some Irish forces, sent the following bold letter to the parliamentarian committee at Chepstow.

“Having notice that you are not ignorant of my son’s landing with the Irish forces, I am so much of a father, and tender of the whole country’s ruin, that if this coming to this place be hasted by the occasion of your answer, you and not I will be the occasion of the country’s curse. You have taken from me my rents and livelihood, for which if you give unbelied reparations, I shall be glad to live a quiet neighbour amongst you; if otherwise, you will force me to what my own nature hath no liking of, and yet justifiable by the word of God, and law of nature. I expect your answer by the messenger, as you give occasion.

“H. Worcester.

“Raglan, May 29, 1646.”

This brought on a long and fruitless negotiation. The old lord saw that even the master of Raglan was not the master of circumstances; and, at length, it was agreed that the castle should be delivered up. “Nobly done,” says Sanderson, “to hold out the last garrison for the king in England or Wales.” In the articles of surrender, however, the soldierly honour of the marquis was spared as much as possible, it being agreed “that all the officers, gentlemen, and soldiers, with all other persons there, should march out with their horses and arms, colours flying, drums beating, trumpets sounding, matches lighted at both ends, bullets in mouth, each soldier twelve charges of powder, matches and bullets proportionable, bag and baggage, to any place within two miles of any garrison where the marquis shall mention.”

Soon after this surrender, the castle was demolished, and the timber cut down in the parks, the loss to the family, in personal property, without including the forfeiture and an estate of twenty thousand pounds a year, being estimated at upwards of a hundred thousand pounds. The Chase of Wentwood, including Chepstow Castle and Park, was immediately bestowed upon Oliver Cromwell; who appears also to refer, in the settlements upon his family to other estates in Monmouthshire, parcels of the noble property of the marquis of Worcester.

In a publication of that day, entitled “Witty Apothegms delivered at several times, and on several occasions, by king James I., king Charles I., and the marquis of Worcester,” several anecdotes are given which throw a strong light upon the character of this fine old lord of Raglan.

“In the midst of the civil commotions, Charles I. made several visits to Raglan Castle, and was entertained with becoming magnificence. The marquis not only declined all offers of remuneration, but also advanced large sums; and when the king thanked him for the loans, replied, Sir, I had your word for the money, but I never thought I should be so soon repayed; for now you have given me thanks, I have all I looked for.” At another time, the king, apprehensive lest the stores of the garrison should be consumed by his suite, empowered him to exact from the country such provisions as were necessary for his maintainance and recruit, “I humbly thank your majesty,” he said, “but my castle will not stand long if it leans on the country; I had rather be brought to a morsel of bread, than any morsels of bread should be brought me to entertain your majesty.”The following conversation shows the amiable weakness of Charles’s humanity.

Sir Trevor Williams, and four other principal gentlemen of Monmouthshire, being arrested for disloyalty, and conducted to Abergavenny, the king was advised to order them to an immediate trial, which must have ended in their conviction; but Charles, moved by the tears and protestations of Trevor Williams, suffered him to be released, on bail, and committed the others only to a temporary confinement. “The king told the marquess what he had done, and that when he saw them speak so honestly, he could not but give some credit to their words, so seconded by tears, and withal told the marquess that he had onely sent them to prison; whereupon the marquess said, what to do? to poyson that garrison? Sir, you should have done well to have heard their accusations, and then to have shewn what mercy you pleased. The king told him, that he heard that they were accused by some contrary faction, as to themselves, who, out of distaste they bore to one another on old grudges, would be apt to charge them more home than the nature of their offences had deserved; to whom the marquess made this return, Well, Sir, you may chance to gain the kingdom of heaven by such doings as these, but if you ever get the kingdom of England by such ways, I will be your bondman.”

Another conversation between the marquis and Sir Thomas Fairfax is worth relating.

“After much conference between the marquess and General Fairfax, wherein many things were requested of the general by the marquess, and being, as he thought himself, happy in the attainment, his lordship was pleased to make a merry petition to the general as he was taking his leave, viz. in behalf of a couple of pigeons, who were wont to come to his hand, and feed out of it constantly, in whose behalf he desired the general that he would be pleased to give him his protection for them, fearing the little command that he should have over his soldiers in that behalf. To which the general said, I am glad to see your lordship so merry. Oh, said the marquess, you have given me no other cause, and hasty as you are, you shall not go untill I have told you a story.

“There were two men going up Holborn in a cart to be hanged; one of them being very merry and jocund, gave offence to the other who was sad and dejected, insomuch that the downcast man said unto the other, I wonder, brother, that you can be so frolic, considering the business we are going about. Tush, answered the other, thou art a fool; thou wentest a thieving, and never thought what would become of thee, wherefore being on a sudden surprised, thou fallest into such a shaking fit, that I am ashamed to see thee in that condition: whereas I was resolved to be hanged, before ever I fell to stealing, which is the reason nothing happenning strange or unexpected, I go so composed unto my death. So, said the marquess, I resolved to undergo whatsoever, even the worst of evils that you are able to lay upon me, before I took up arms for my sovereign, and therefore wonder not that I am so merry.”

“In the correspondence with Fairfax,” says the author of the Historical Tour, “which preceded the capitulation, the marquis of Worcester seems to have strongly suspected that the parliament would not adhere to the conditions. His apprehensions were not groundless, for on his arrival in London he was committed to the custody of the Black Rod. He bitterly complained of this cruel usage, and deeply regretted that he had trusted himself to the mercy of the parliament. A few hours before his death, he said to Dr. Bayley, If to seize upon all my goods, to pull down my house, to fell my estate, and send up for such a weak body as mine was, so enfeebled by disease, in the dead of winter, in the winter of mine age, be merciful, what are they whose mercies are so cruel? Neither do I expect that they should stop at all this, for I fear they will persecute me after death.

“Being informed, however, that parliament would permit him to be buried in his family vault, in Windsor Chapel; he cried out, with great sprightliness of manner, Why, God bless us all, why then I shall have a better castle when I am dead, than they took from me whilst I was alive. With so much cheerfulness and resignation did this hero expire, in the eighty-fifth year of his age.”

The second marquis was the author of that puzzling “Century of the Names and Scantlings of such Inventions as I can at present call to mind to have tried and perfected.”“It appears,” we are told, “from a passage in the Experimental Philosophy of Dr. Desaguliers, that Captain Savary derived his invention of the fire engine, since called the steam engine, from the 68th article in the Century of Scantlings; and that to conceal his original he bought up all the marquis’s books, and burnt them.” The following is the “scantling.”

“An admirable and most forcible way to drive up water by fire, not by drawing or sucking it upwards, for that must be, as the philosopher calleth it, intra sphÆram activitatis, which is at but 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 of water, stopping and screwing up the broken end, as also the touch-hole, and making a constant fire under it, within twenty-four hours it burst, and made a great crack; so that having a way to make my vessels that they are strengthened by the force within them, and the one to fill after the other, I have seen the water run like a constant fountain stream forty feet high; one vessel of water, rarified by fire, drives up forty feet of cold water. And a man that attends the work has but to turn two cocks, that one vessel of water being consumed, another begins to force and refit with cold water, and so successfully, the fire being tended and kept constant, with the self-same person may likewise abundantly perform in the interim between the necessity of turning the said cocks.”

We now renew our onward course, but with many a lingering look at “delightsome Monmouth.”