Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2017 with funding from 
 Getty Research Institute 
 
 https://archive.org/details/wyeitsruinedabbeOOhowi 
 
|NJ(JC <r»k] 
 
 
THE WYE 
 
 ITS 
 
 RUINED ABBEYS AND CASTLES. 
 
 EXTRACTED FROM 
 
 “THE RUINED ABBEYS AND CASTLES OE GREAT BRITAIN,” 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM and MARY HOWITT. 
 
 l^jofBgrujrljk lllttsintwns 
 
 BY 
 
 BEDFORD and SEDGFIELD. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 ALFRED W. BENNETT, 5, BISHOPSGATE WITHOUT. 
 
 1863. 
 
LONDON : 
 RICHARD BARRETT, 
 MARK LANE 
 
 PRINTER, 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE ; with Photograph by Bedford 1 
 
 TINTEEN ABBEY . Sedgfield... 17 
 
 EAGLAN CASTLE Bedford 33 
 
 GOODEICH CASTLE Bedford 45 
 
 LANTHONY ABBEY Bedford 65 
 
 Photograph of THE WYE EEOM CHAPEL HILL, 
 
 by Sedgfield ... 
 
 On Cover . 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE, 
 
THE WYE. 
 
 Cljcpsfoto Castle. 
 
 EARS ago, as I issued from the Bristol 
 steamer, and was ascending the steep 
 High-street of Chepstow, on a fine 
 autumn morning, I became aware of a 
 tall, stout, florid-looking man in middle 
 
 life, also labouring up behind me. There 
 
 was a crowd of other passengers who had descended from 
 the same steam-boat, and were ascending the same street, 
 — some before me, some behind me, — but I became, 
 somehow, particularly conscious of the following of 
 the large, stout man. There was his heavy, measured 
 tread, always at a certain distance in my rear, which I 
 neither left farther astern by quickening my pace, nor put 
 ahead by slackening it, and this it was that, no doubt, 
 soon made me especially sensitive to this ponderous sequitur. 
 If I have a fidgety aversion to one thing more than 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 another, it is to have something pad, padding at my heels, 
 like the Fakenham ghost. I often stop short to let a cart, 
 or a carriage of any kind, that is going on grinding and 
 jarring beside me, or a person who comes tramp, tramp, 
 with an incessant, unvarying step, close behind me, go its, 
 his, or her way. But this colossal humanity was not thus 
 to be got rid of. To accelerate or lessen my speed only 
 produced the same effect on my follower : there might have 
 been a rod or bar of some kind suspended betwixt us, and 
 regulating our distance. As no graduation of progression 
 availed to remove the incubus, I suddenly stopped and 
 directed my attention into a shop window ; the huge man 
 as suddenly did the same. I gave a side-glance at him, 
 but he appeared to be profoundly contemplating a pair of 
 bellows of no particular novelty of fashion. I sprang 
 forward as abruptly as I had stopped, hoping that my great 
 shadow was sufficiently attracted by the bellows, to adhere, 
 and thereby, like the shadow of Peter Schlemyhl, fell 
 away from me. Nothing of the kind. As if my removal 
 was inevitably the cause of his, he turned gravely and 
 renewed — his chase ? — no ; his pursuit ? — no, it could not 
 be said to be either, but his mechanical following. But he 
 is fat, I thought ; and thereupon I put, to use a Derbyshire 
 phrase, my best leg foremost, and went up the steepest 
 part of the street at a rate of at least five miles an hour. 
 It was useless. The stupendous man, if he were not the 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE, 
 
 3 
 
 actual grey man of Peter Schlemyhl, had on, it seemed, his 
 seven-league boots. With enormous strides, and the 
 equally great accompanying stretches of a stout stick, he 
 cleared the pavement wonderfully, and was still just two 
 yards behind me. 
 
 “ This is intolerable ! ” I said to myself, and, wheeling 
 suddenly round, I stood and gazed down over the town, 
 and over the Wye circling round its base, and over the 
 Gloucestershire fields and woods beyond. The man wheeled 
 round too, blew a large hot breath from his puffed cheeks 
 — I had tired him a little then ! — took off a capacious 
 broad -brimmed hat, and, wiping a capacious forehead with 
 a brilliant red and yellow silk handkerchief, revealed a 
 gigantic head — what a head he had ! — covered with a 
 profusion of brown and curly hair. 
 
 “ A very fine view,” he observed, still gazing round on 
 the extensive scene of town and ships, and Wye and 
 distant Severn. “ Very !” I said, somewhat short. “ Very, 
 indeed,” he replied, with a much more amiable complacency. 
 I went on, and so did the imperturbable inevitable stranger. 
 Then, thought I, if he will stick to me, here he shall stand 
 some time and cool his heels. I stood still, and stared 
 him full in the face. He looked with a broad, frank look, 
 — I could not call it a stare— also at me, and observed, “ I 
 take it you are for the Beaufort Arms ? ” ‘T am,” I 
 responded. “ Then I am for the Beaufort Arms, too.” It 
 
 b 2 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 4 
 
 was too much : I went on again, and as the great stranger 
 entered the lobby of the house at the same moment, he 
 observed, “ I take it that you propose to breakfast here ? ” 
 “ Just so,” I replied. “ Then I am for breakfast, too,” he 
 added ; “ and so we may as well breakfast together.” 
 
 The adhesive tendency of the stranger was singular, but 
 he had nothing sinister or unpleasant in his appearance ; I 
 was under no apprehension of bailiffs or spies, nor did he 
 look like either ; on the contrary, he had an ample, open, 
 good-natured and intelligent aspect. There was nothing 
 to be said against his proposition. I sate down to a table 
 ready spread, and ordered coffee and beefsteak. “ The 
 same for me,” said the incomprehensible, and seated 
 himself opposite to me. We breakfasted for some time in 
 silence, then the great presence began to drop sententious 
 remarks : the air in the early morning in the boat was 
 chilly — the sun now was very cheering — this town stood on 
 a very steep hill-side — a good inn this Beaufort Arms — 
 and so on ; to all which I assented, for there was no 
 denying the assertions. 
 
 We paid our bills, and rose simultaneously. “ And now, 
 I take it,” said my chosen companion, — the choice being all 
 on his inscrutable side, — “ that you are for Tintern.” 
 “ Exactly so,” I said. “ Then I am for Tintern, too,” he 
 remarked, “and so let us join at a chaise, or a boat. I 
 don’t mind which.” 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 5 
 
 “ But first,” I said, “ I shall visit the castle here. “ By 
 all means,” he replied ; “ I am at your service for that.” 
 
 “ And so,” I thought, as we began to descend again to 
 the left towards the castle ruins, “ my jolly Great Unknown, 
 you are for Tintern, — six miles, and a good spell up-hill ; 
 and you dream of a boat up the Wye, or a chaise up the 
 steep here — ha ! ha ! we shall see ! I now perceive a 
 coming divorce from my zealously attached one. If he 
 will do as I do on the way to Tintern, I warrant him 
 he never did such a penance yet ; so, whatever the upshot, 
 let us at all events be agreeable. A chaise indeed ! A 
 boat ! ” 
 
 I must in my internal amusement have said the last words 
 audibly, for my great rosy friend remarked, “ Ay, it will 
 be a boat, I think, for we are descending.” At the next 
 moment we stood before that great extent of ancient 
 towers and walls, enclosed in their grass-grown ditch, 
 and beautifully draped with ivy. I pulled out my 
 guide-book ; my great double, or rather quadruple, drew 
 out one exactly the same. “ What an extensive place,” I 
 observed, and began to read ; my friend — for I think I 
 may call him so, for he showed a remarkable preference for 
 my company — also reading in silence. “ The castle was 
 founded in the eleventh century by William Fitzosborn, 
 Earl of Hereford, a relative of William the Conqueror. 
 In the thirteenth century the greater part of the original 
 
6 
 
 CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 structure was taken clown, and one, larger and of great 
 strength, was erected. It is still a magnificent pile, 
 towering upon the summit of a cliff whose base is washed 
 by the classic Wye. The site occupies three acres of 
 ground, and is divided into four courts.” “ That is 
 probable,” I observed, — “ I mean, that it arose in the 
 eleventh and thirteenth centuries, for it bears a wonderful 
 resemblance to the old castle and town- walls of Conway, 
 which were built in the eleventh. You observe these great 
 round battlemented towers, with their straight battlemented 
 walls, stretching from one tower to the other.” “ I never 
 saw Conway,” replied my friend ; “ that is interesting.” 
 
 But we need not repeat all our remarks. I will now 
 awhile draw from more extensive sources than the guide- 
 book, the chief particulars of the history of this castle. 
 There have not been wanting those who have attributed 
 the original structure to the Homans, simply because a few 
 Homan bricks are visible in the walls of what is called the 
 chapel. It may have been so ; but the Britons at least 
 had a castle here, which they called Castell Gwent, or 
 Casgwent, as the town was called by the Saxons Chepe- 
 stowe, or place of trade. But the Normans, who raised 
 what remains now, termed it Striguil, and it appears in 
 Doomsday-book as Castellum de Estrighoiel, and in ancient 
 charters is named Striogul, Striguil, etc. It is divided 
 into four courts, two of which are now used as gardens. 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 7 
 
 As you enter the great eastern portal you behold on your 
 right hand a number of dilapidated offices, besides the 
 lodge of the keeper, and on your left hand the south- 
 eastern ancient tower or citadel, now called Marten’s Tower. 
 On your left hand in the third court stand the. walls of a 
 fine old gothic building, ninety feet in length, and thirty 
 in breadth, which is called the chapel, but was probably 
 the baronial hall. The style of the arches and niches 
 which remain is more modern than the rest of the castle, 
 and they possess much elegance. The fourth court was ap- 
 proached formerly by a drawbridge, long ago destroyed ; 
 and the entrance at the western extremity of the castle 
 was also defended by a portcullis, and another drawbridge 
 over the ditch. 
 
 The William Eitzosborn who built Striguil or Chepstow 
 castle, fought, it seems, at Hastings, and in reward for his 
 services was made justiciary of England, and received this 
 property, as well as others. But it did not remain in his 
 family beyond the next generation. His eldest son, like 
 nearly all the Normans who came with the Conqueror who 
 had estates at home, returned to them, and left landless 
 adventurers to get estates in England. His second son 
 was a monk; and his third son, Roger, rebelled against 
 the king, and was put in prison. Whilst there the king 
 sent him a suit of royal robes, — that is, a suit of his cast- 
 off clothes, — which so offended him that he threw them 
 
8 
 
 CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 into the fire. This, again, so incensed the king that he 
 vowed, “by the brightness of God,” that the proud Roger 
 should never come out of prison ; and there Roger died. 
 The king then gave his estate to Gilbert, surnamed 
 Strongbow-, brother of Richard, Earl of Clare. The origi- 
 nal name of this Strongbow was Tonnebruge, a name which 
 shows his Danish origin, Dannebrog being the great Danish 
 standard. This Richard Tonnebruge, therefore, was doubt- 
 less descended from a stout northman, the standard-bearer 
 of the Dannebrog, when the northmen seized Normandy. 
 In the Norman transmigration the name had been corrupted 
 into Tonnebruge, and in England soon became further 
 corrupted into Strongbow. These Strongbows were fine 
 fellows. Richard, the grandson of the original Richard, 
 conquered Ireland, and married the daughter of Dermot, 
 king of Leinster, and held Dublin, making over, however, 
 his conquests to king Henry II. of England. His daughter 
 Isabella married William, Marshal of England, and founded 
 the illustrious family of the Earls of Pembroke. The 
 husband of Isabel Strongbow, the first Earl of Pembroke, 
 was one of the greatest men that England has produced. 
 Dugdale says of him, — “ This illustrious peer was the 
 greatest warrior in a period of warfare, and the most loyal 
 subject in an age of rebellion : by the united influence of 
 wisdom and valour he supported the tottering crown of 
 king John, broke the confederacy of the barons, who had 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 9 
 
 sworn allegiance to Louis, dauphin of France, drove away 
 the foreign usurper, fixed Henry III. on the throne of his 
 ancestors, and gave peace to his distracted country.” 
 
 And all this is most true. For though it has suited our 
 historians to go on affirming and re-affirming the tale that 
 the barons won the Magna Charta from king John at 
 Runnymede ; and though, like parrots, we go on talking 
 of “ the barons of Runnymede,” and of their winning 
 Magna Charta ; the truth is that they never did win Magna 
 Charta, and that the charter of king John never was our 
 Magna Charta, but the charter of Henry III. True, the 
 barons forced John to sign a charter at Runnymede, but 
 John well knew that, by all the laws of nations, a thing 
 obtained by force is not a valid thing : therefore, no sooner 
 was the charter signed than he repudiated it: and the 
 barons, knowing quite as well that a forced contract thus 
 repudiated was no contract at all, took up arms to compel 
 him again to acknowledge their charter. But, so far from 
 this, John, backed by the brave Earl of Pembroke, resisted, 
 and beat the barons at every point. What then did these 
 same much-lauded barons? They did a most shameful 
 and unpatriotic deed. They offered the crown of England 
 to Louis, dauphin of France, which, had he obtained it, 
 would have reduced this country for ever to a mere pro- 
 vince of France. But John beat both the barons and their 
 king Louis of France : and when John died, there was 
 
10 
 
 CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 found iii his pocket, says Carte the historian, a letter signed 
 by forty of these barons, offering to resign all question of 
 the charter, if he would restore them again to their titles 
 and estates. Neither living nor dying, however, did John 
 do this, but treated the barons as traitors. 
 
 When he was dead, the brave seamen of Dover, putting 
 Hugh de Burgh at their head, and the brave archers of 
 England, putting William de Collingham at their head, 
 determined to settle the matter with the barons, and drive 
 away their French king. At this time Louis and the 
 barons held London and the south of England, and were 
 powerfully supported by the King of Scots in the north, 
 and the Prince of Wales in the west; but the freemen of 
 England, the sailors and archers, beat them all, and com- 
 pelled the Dauphin to flee into his ships at the mouth of 
 the Thames. They destroyed all his ships except fifteen, 
 with which he got him away. And then, these freemen of 
 England, having saved England from a French as well as a 
 Norman invasion, marched up to London, and compelled 
 the king to grant them a new and better charter than 
 that of John. The king, Henry III., was but a boy of 
 ten years old, but this brave Earl of Pembroke was his 
 guardian and regent of the kingdom, and by his advice 
 Henry granted a new charter, containing a new clause, 
 ordering the demolition of every castle built or rebuilt 
 during the wars of the barons. This charter was not 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 11 
 
 now signed in the presence of the king and the barons only, 
 but in that of the king and the united parliament ; for the 
 representatives of the burghs are expressly mentioned as 
 sitting in the parliament of 1265. Besides the Great 
 Charter, the people now demanded and obtained the 
 Charter of the Forest— a mighty boon, by which all the 
 forests enclosed since the days of Henry II. were thrown 
 open, and the deadly forest laws were deprived of their 
 bloody and capital power. This is the true story of the 
 Great Charter of England, as related by Matthew Paris, 
 Rhymer, Carte, and other historians : not won by rebellious 
 and traitorous barons, who would have sold us for ever to 
 France, but by the people of England themselves, who 
 should not allow themselves to be lightly defrauded of their 
 glory. This is what Dugdale means by saying that the 
 brave Pembroke “ broke the confederacy of the barons, 
 who had sworn allegiance to Lewis, dauphin of France, 
 and drove away the foreign usurper.” The great men of 
 Dugdale’s time knew what was our true history, and would 
 not allow it to be falsified : and Blackstone in his “ Com- 
 mentaries,” and in his “ Essay on Magna Charta,” fully 
 substantiates these great facts, and says that the charter of 
 John never was our charter, but the far better charter of 
 Henry III. ; — that we had other and better charters 
 than John's, both before and after his time, and that his 
 charter, which never became the charter of the realm, 
 
12 
 
 CITErSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 would never have been heard of but for his war against 
 the barons. 
 
 My stout and inseparable friend was greatly amazed 
 at this revelation that the charter of Runnymede was of 
 no more value than a bill drawn on a party who dishonours 
 it ; but I said, Think of that and talk of that at home, 
 but now call to mind that extraordinary men have been 
 prisoners within these walls. Here the good and learned 
 bishop, Jeremy Taylor, was incarcerated in 1656, on a 
 charge of being privy to an insurrection of the royalists. 
 And here, I said,' in the south-eastern extremity of the 
 first court, you see the tower still called Henry Marten’s 
 Tower, where Marten, one of the regicides, was confined. 
 This was one of the most determined republicans of his 
 time. He was the friend of Harrington, Sydney, Wildman, 
 Neville, and other men who had imbibed all the repub- 
 lican ideas of ancient Greece and Rome. He it was who, 
 walking between the Parliament House and Westminster 
 with Mr. Hyde, afterwards the famous Lord Chancellor 
 Clarendon, long before the civil war, startled him by 
 saying, “ I do not think one man icise enough to govern us all! 71 
 He was the right-hand man of Cromwell, till Cromwell 
 himself aimed at sovereign power. He it was who, when 
 the high court of justice appointed to try Charles I. were 
 puzzled on what authority they should try him, rose and 
 said, “ In the names of the commons and parliament 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 13 
 
 assembled, and of all the good people of England.” And 
 when Charles himself demanded on what authority they 
 presumed to try him, he was answered in those words. 
 He would have been executed with the rest of the regi- 
 cides, but for his latter opposition to Cromwell. On that 
 account his punishment was commuted to perpetual im- 
 prisonment. 
 
 Marten was a prisoner in this tower twenty years, but 
 his imprisonment was by no means rigorous. His wife 
 was permitted to reside with him ; he had the full enjoy- 
 ment of his property, which was large, and was allowed 
 to receive visits, and to pay visits, in company with a 
 guard, to the neighbouring gentry, especially to a Mr. 
 H. Pierre, at whose house a fine portrait of him was 
 preserved. 
 
 Southey, in his early and democratic poems, drew a 
 most gloomy and exaggerated picture of Marten’s im- 
 prisonment here : — 
 
 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 . 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Coxe, visiting this castle in 1800, and 
 having in his mind this doleful description, was, he says, 
 
14 
 
 CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 greatly “ surprised to find a comfortable suite of rooms. 
 The first story contained an apartment which was occu- 
 pied in his time by Marten and his wife ; and above were 
 the lodgings of his domestics. The chamber in which he 
 usually lived was not less than thirty-six feet in length 
 and twenty-three in breadth, and of proportionate height. 
 It was provided with two fire-places and three windows, 
 two of which appeared to be the original apertures, and 
 the third was probably enlarged for Marten’s conve- 
 nience ! ” 
 
 A circumstance at which the public was greatly scanda- 
 lized at the time, was, that when the judges who had 
 tried Charles I. signed the warrant for his execution, 
 Cromwell, taking up the pen to sign, daubed the face of 
 Henry Marten, who sat next him, with the ink; and 
 Marten, when the pen was handed to him, returned the 
 same compliment to Cromwell. Something of this levity 
 continued to show itself in Marten, who lived to the age 
 of eighty-seven. His epitaph, written by himself, may 
 yet be seen in Chepstow church, and is curious, forming 
 an anagram on his name. 
 
 HERE, 
 
 September 9, in the year of our Lord, 1680, 
 
 Was buried a true Englishman 
 
 Who in Berkshire was well known 
 
 To love his country’s freedom ’bove his own : 
 
 But living immured full twenty year 
 Had time to write, as doth appear, 
 
CHEPSTOW CASTLE. 
 
 15 
 
 HIS EPITAPH. 
 
 H ere or elsewhere, (all’s one to you, to me,) 
 
 E arth, air, or water gripes my ghostless dust, 
 
 N o one knows how soon to be by fire set free. 
 
 R eader, if you an oft-tried rule will trust, 
 
 Y ou’ll gladly do and suffer what you must. 
 
 M y life was spent with serving you, and you, 
 
 A nd death’s my pay, (it seems,) and welcome too : 
 
 R evenge destroying but itself, while I 
 To birds of prey leave my old cage and fly. 
 
 E xamples preach to the eye ; care then — mine says 
 N ot how you end, but how you spend your days. 
 
 Having taken a view over the walls of the castle court, 
 and at the Wye rushing far below at the base of the cliffs 
 on which the castle stands, we set out for Tintern. 
 

 TlftTEHN ABEfif, 
 
&minn |lMra_r. 
 
 D now for Tintern ! ” I said to my 
 stout friend. “ Ay, ay ! for Tintern !” 
 he replied gaily : “ but first, my dear 
 sir, for a boat.” “ For a boat ! why, 
 we are a full mile from the bridge. It 
 would be a loss of time to go all the 
 way down for a boat.” “ Well, then, let it be a chaise.” 
 “ First,” I said, “let us have a peep in at the gates of 
 Piercefield. It is just above here, and we can see it better 
 and with more time than with a chaise waiting for us.” So, 
 though with a dubious and misgivingair, my friend moved 
 on with me. The ascent of the Monmouth road was pretty 
 steep, but I endeavoured to beguile his attention by talking 
 of Piercefield. This Piercefield, I observed, is one of 
 the paradises of England. Here we are : we will take the 
 liberty of just walking inside the lodge-gate — it is a show- 
 place ; they won’t object. There ! see what a charming 
 spot ! What a delightful stretch of woods and lawns, and 
 park-like fields ! What views out beyond ! If we had 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 time to traverse these celebrated scenes — to view the 
 majestic Wynd Cliff and the Bannagor Rocks opposite, 
 and the bold peninsula of Lancaut, all towering magnifi- 
 cently above the Wye — to visit the Lover’s Leap, and tra- 
 verse the woods that skirt the river deep below, and take 
 in all the varying views of dizzy heights and sylvan dells — 
 you would wonder that any one ever left this place. Yet it 
 has in not very many years passed through many hands. 
 One of its various possessors was the generous Valentine 
 Morris, governor of St. Vincent, in the West Indies, who 
 first comprehended the beauty of the spot, and opened it 
 up, by walks and drives, to the feet and the eye of the 
 lover of Nature. Poor Morris ! — imprudent as benevolent, 
 and treated with the grossest dishonesty by a base govern- 
 ment, he was as unfortunate as he was philanthropic ; yet 
 you will find his memory retained lovingly in Chepstow. 
 
 And here, too, it is pleasant to think that that good 
 and gifted young woman, Elizabeth Smith, whom the last 
 generation knew and admired, passed the chief part of her 
 short life. Her father bought this place when she was 
 eight years old, and, as she died about twenty years after, 
 here she must have gathered up all that store of languages 
 which she chiefly taught herself, with the exception of the 
 two first : — French, Italian, Spanish, German, Latin, 
 Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, and Persian. Elizabeth 
 was one of the first to make England acquainted with the 
 
TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 19 
 
 wealth of German literature, particularly with “ Klopstock.” 
 Little is known of her now ; but she deserves to be remem- 
 bered, were it only for one sentence occurring in her letters : 
 “To be good and disagreeable is high treason against 
 virtue/ ” 
 
 As I was talking of these things, I had quietly quitted 
 the park of Piercefield, and we were again mounting the 
 steep road. Suddenly my companion exclaimed, “ But 
 where are we going ? This is not the way for the chaise !” 
 “ Nonsense about chaises,” I said ; “ Don’t you see that 
 we are now far on the way to Tintern ? We shall be pre- 
 sently at the Wynd Cliff, one of the finest views you ever 
 saw ; we are better without a chaise, or any other bother.” 
 “Ha!” said the large man, “You are drawing me on ! I 
 see it ; I see it. But no ! it won’t do. Why, to walk all 
 the way to Tintern would kill me !” “ All the way to 
 
 Tintern, I suppose, is now about four miles,” I replied ; 
 “ and that can do you no harm, surely.” “ No harm ! 
 Why, sir, I have never for these twenty years walked four 
 miles at a stretch. With my weight, my good stout horse, 
 or my carriage and pair of greys, are much pleasanter. I 
 never walk further than round my grounds, or to my fac- 
 tory and back.” “ So, you are a manufacturer ?” and he 
 then informed me that he was a cotton-spinner of Derby- 
 shire. “ Of Derbyshire ! why then we are countrymen. 
 And now look here. By not walking you make yourself 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 heavy, and lose one of the finest enjoyments of life. Here 
 am I, older than you are, and I have just walked from Fal- 
 mouth to the Land’s End, and from the Land’s End to 
 Barnstaple, with many a goodly zigzag besides, here and 
 there, in Cornwall ; and as for a chaise, I should be ashamed 
 to put my foot in one for such a mere stride. To be can- 
 did, I won’t have anything to do with a chaise, and so I 
 suppose here we must part.” 
 
 “ Astounding !” said the great man, for he was evidently 
 given to wonder ; “ and you’ve really done that, and are 
 all the better for it. But no ; it may do for you, but it 
 would not do for me. I could not think of it !” “ Then 
 good-bye,” said I, extending my hand : “ I thought we 
 were just going to make a pleasant county acquaintance.” 
 He stood as taken quite aback. “ Well, I had set my 
 mind on going to Tintern with you, I don’t know why — 
 but four miles yet !” “ Four fiddlesticks !” I said : “ Come 
 along, it will do you good, and we might have been half- 
 way there now.” He shook his head ; but suddenly he 
 said, “ And you really think it will do me good ?” “ I 
 
 do.” “ Then here goes,” he said ; and on we marched, 
 with a good hearty “ Bravo !” on my part. 
 
 “ It was a stout climb to the Wynd Cliff, and my worthy 
 and robust cotton-spinner perspired freely, and wiped his 
 ample brow industriously, and exclaimed, “ This is very 
 severe ; but it may do me good.” Anon we stood on that 
 
TENTEBN ABBEY. 
 
 21 
 
 splendid height, the summit of the Wynd Cliff : and as my 
 neophyte in peripatetics gazed down on the Wye far be- 
 low, rushing with the inflowing tide between its lofty rocks, 
 and then glanced on the scenes around, he burst forth with 
 an emphatic “ Glorious !” 
 
 “ You are right, ” I said ; “ but button up your waist- 
 coat and your coat, for the wind is cool here, and I will 
 read you from the guide-book all the objects you can see 
 from this spot. ‘ The extensive prospect commanded from 
 this summit is generally extolled as one of the most beauti- 
 ful in the island. The objects included are, — the new line 
 of road from Chepstow to Tintern ; the Wye winding in 
 its circuitous course between its rocky and wooded banks ; 
 the pretty hamlet of Lancaut, with the perpendicular cliffs 
 of Bannagor, and the whole domain of Piercefield ; a little 
 to the left, Berkeley Castle and Thornbury Church. On 
 the right successively the castle and town of Chepstow ; 
 the majestic Severn, and the confluences of the rivers Wye 
 and Severn ; the Old and New Passages ; Durdham Down, 
 and Dundry Tower, near Bristol ; the mouth of the Avon 
 and Portishead Point : to the south-west, the Holmes and 
 Penarth Point, near Cardiff : and far away in the north- 
 west, the Black Mountains, forming a sublime background 
 to the whole : thus embracing parts of nine counties, 
 namely, Monmouth, Gloucester, Wilts, Somerset, Devon, 
 Glamorgan, Brecon, Hereford, and Worcester. In the 
 
22 
 
 TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 words of Mr. Roscoe, “ The grouping of the landscape is 
 perfect : I know of no picture more beautiful/ ” 
 
 My great friend rested in full enjoyment of this magni- 
 ficent scene ; rested, that made no small part of the charm, 
 for he had found a seat. He would have dwelt on each 
 point, and endeavoured by questions to identify every one 
 of them ; but I reminded him that he might take cold, and 
 we proceeded on our way. But the great difficulty was 
 now passed ; the rest of the road was pretty level, and I 
 endeavoured to keep up his attention by pointing out the 
 beauties of the strangely-circling Wye to our right. I told 
 him of the advantages people drew from walking ; of the 
 acquaintance it gave them with the people passing the same 
 way, or as you sat awhile with them in their cottages. 
 “ Ay/’ said he, eagerly looking round, “ that sitting in a 
 cottage must be pleasant but there was no cottage 
 visible. And I went on telling him of the many poems 
 Wordsworth wrote from materials picked up in walking, or 
 on the top of coaches (“I prefer the top of coaches, myself,” 
 said he) ; that Wordsworth, at Goodrich Castle, thus met 
 with the little girl who gave him the idea of “We are 
 Seven and also walking along the Wye from Builth to 
 Hay, he fell in with “ Peter Bell.” The countenance, gait, 
 and figure of Peter, he tells us, were taken from a wild 
 rover, with whom he walked from Builth, and who told 
 him strange stories. I then drew from my pocket the 
 
TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 23 
 
 small Paris edition of Wordsworth’s Poems. “ This book,” 
 I said, “ gave great vexation to Wordsworth ; for when he 
 had not made fifty pounds in his whole life by the sale of 
 his English edition, this pirated one had sold one hundred 
 and twenty thousand copies in Paris. It annoyed him, 
 but it will please us.” And I began to read his 
 
 “ LINES WRITTEN ON REVISITING TINTERN.” 
 
 Five years have past ; five summers, with the length 
 Of five long winters ! And again I hear 
 These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs 
 With a sweet inland murmur. — 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. 
 
 The day is come when I again repose 
 Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 
 These plots of cottage ground, these orchard tufts, 
 Which at this season, with their unripe fruit, 
 
 Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves ' 
 Among the woods and copses, nor disturb 
 The wild green landscape. Once again I see 
 These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines 
 Of sportive wood run wild ; these pastoral farms 
 Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke 
 Sent up, in silence, from among the trees ! 
 
 With some uncertain notice, as might seem, 
 
 Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 
 
24 
 
 TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 Or of some hermit’s cave, where by his fire 
 The hermit sits alone. 
 
 These beauteous forms, 
 Through a long absence, have not been to me 
 As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye : 
 
 But oft, in lonely rooms, and ’mid the din 
 Of towns and cities, have I owed to them, 
 
 In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, 
 
 Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; 
 And passing even into my purer mind 
 With tranquil restoration : — feelings too 
 Of unremembered pleasure : such, perhaps. 
 As have no slight or trivial influence 
 On that best portion of a good man’s life, 
 
 His little nameless, unremembered, acts, 
 
 Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust. 
 To them I may have owed another gift, 
 
 Of aspect more sublime ; that blessed mood. 
 In which the burthen of the mystery, 
 
 In which the heavy and the weary weight 
 Of all this unintelligible world 
 Is lightened : — that serene and blessed mood. 
 In which the affections gently lead us on, — 
 Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 
 And even the motion of our human blood 
 Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 
 In body, and become a living soul: 
 
 While with an eye made quiet by the power 
 Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 
 
 We see into the life of things. 
 
 If this 
 
 Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, 
 
 In darkness, and amid the many shapes 
 
TTNTEBN ABBEY. 
 
 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, 
 
 0 sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer thro’ the woods, 
 
 How often has my spirit turned to thee ! 
 
 And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, 
 With many recognitions dim and faint, 
 
 And somewhat of a sad perplexity, 
 
 The picture of the mind revives again : 
 
 While here I stand, not only with the sense 
 Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts 
 That in this moment there is life and food 
 For future years. And so I dare to hope, 
 
 Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first 
 
 1 came among these hills ; when like a roe 
 I bounded o’er the mountains, by the sides 
 Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, 
 
 Wherever nature led : more like a man 
 Flying from something that he dreads, than one 
 Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then 
 (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, 
 
 And their glad animal movements all gone by) 
 
 To me was all in all. — I cannot paint 
 What then I was. The sounding cataract 
 Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, 
 
 The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, 
 
 Their colours and their forms, were then to me 
 An appetite : a feeling and a love, 
 
 That had no need of a remoter charm, 
 
 By thought supplied, or any interest 
 Unborrowed from the eye. — That time is past, 
 
 And all its aching joys are now no more, 
 
26 
 
 TINTEEN ABBEY. 
 
 And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this 
 Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur ; other gifts 
 Have followed, for such loss I would believe 
 Abundant recompense. For I have learned 
 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 round 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 ; well pleased to recognize, 
 
 In nature and the language of the sense, 
 
 The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 
 
 The guide, the guardian of my heart and soul, 
 
 Of all my moral being. 
 
 I read the whole, though we must not quote the whole 
 here. “ And these/’ I said, “ are the pleasures that men, 
 and women too, for the poet’s sister was with him, seize 
 
TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 27 
 
 upon by quitting their lazy carriages, and entering on the 
 finest estate which God and nature have given them, a 
 vigorous pair of legs. These are the fine free thoughts 
 ranging through woods and mountains, and by pleasant 
 rivers, when age or sickness or other necessity shall have 
 cut off all travelling, save in the enchanted regions of 
 memory.’ 7 
 
 “ It is very fine, very,” said the great manufacturer, “ and 
 I am sure it will do me a world of good ; but it is very 
 severe ” — and he wiped again his reeking brows, and flung 
 open his ample waistcoat. “ But here we are ! See, there 
 are the gables of Tintern, its broken walls and arched 
 windows rising out of its wood of trees ! ” It was a 
 scene of quiet, truly monastic beauty. The smoke ascen- 
 ded in the clear autumnal air from the hamlet cottages 
 near, and the Wye, now brim full from the height 
 of the tide, gave a perfecting charm to the land- 
 scape. We entered the interior of the beautiful ruin in 
 silence. No one ever enters the place without being 
 deeply impressed by its noble proportions, and the classical 
 grace and chastity of its architecture. This abbey church 
 was built in 1131, and presents a fine specimen of the 
 early-English style, blending into a more ornamented 
 character, as later editions were made or changes intro- 
 duced. The roof is gone, but the walls are entire ; all 
 
28 
 
 TINTEEN ABBEY. 
 
 the pillars, except those which divide the nave 
 from the northern aisle, and the four lofty arches 
 which supporting the tower spring high into the air, 
 though reduced to narrow rims of stone, still preserve 
 their original form. The western window, with its rich 
 tracery, is extremely beautiful. “ From the length of the 
 nave,” says Coxe, “ 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 architec- 
 ture, and the delicacy of the ornaments. We feel that 
 elegance is its characteristic no less than grandeur, 
 and that the whole is a combination of the beautiful and 
 the sublime.” 
 
 What Coxe also adds is true, and gives a peculiar beauty 
 to the place. “ Instead of dilapidated fragments over- 
 spread with weeds and choked with brambles, the floor is 
 covered with a smooth turf, which by keeping the original 
 level of the church, exhibits the beauty of its proportions, 
 and heightens the effect of the grey stone. Ornamented 
 fragments of the roof, remains of cornices and columns, 
 rich pieces of sculpture, sepulchral stones and mutilated 
 
TINTEKN ABBEY. 
 
 29 
 
 figures of monks and heroes, whose ashes repose within 
 these walls, are scattered on the greensward, and contrast 
 present desolation with former splendour.” 
 
 My weighty friend seated himself on a tomb ; but I, 
 observing an iron railing surrounding the top of the walls, 
 looked for the ascent thither, and found that the walls were 
 double, and that stairs ascended between them. I soon, 
 therefore, stood aloft over my friend’s head, and eagerly 
 invited him to come up, and see the charming view all 
 around, and the admirable perspective of the church below. 
 “ Not for the world !” he exclaimed—' “ Not for the world ! 
 My legs have done wonders to-day, but my head would 
 never stand that.” “ Good,” said I. He had done wonders, 
 and I had done one too ; for I had wiled him on to Tintern, 
 six good miles, and up a long, steep hill, and now he must 
 walk back. It was more than he had done for the last 
 twenty years. 
 
 The history of Tintern contains nothing very remarkable. 
 It was founded by the Strongbows, and became rich and 
 hospitable. Edward II. sought refuge there for some time 
 from the pursuit of his queen Isabella. At the dissolution 
 it contained only thirteen monks, and was valued with its 
 estates, according to Dugdale, at £132, but according to 
 Speed at £256 per annum. It was granted by Henry VIII. 
 to the second Earl of Worcester, and is now the property 
 of the Duke of Beaufort. 
 
30 
 
 TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 When we set out to return, my companion, instead of 
 exhibiting fatigue, sprang up from his sepulchral seat, as 
 he remarked, “like a giant refreshed .’ 7 He seemed in- 
 spired by a vivid sense of the feat that he had accomplished. 
 “ What would they say at Chapel-en-Frith if they could 
 see me to-day ! When I tell them that I walked to Tintern 
 and back, eh ? But I tell you what, my friend, I have 
 been thinking of what you have said as I sate on the tomb- 
 stone there, and I think you are right. One grows slug- 
 gish and stupid by riding and lolling in carriages. I will 
 walk ! I feel lighter already : and I will be lighter still. 
 Why should not I be as agile as you ? You walked up 
 Cornwall. I am going to Devonshire, and I’ll tramp it 
 there as I’m alive !” And inspired by his new idea, the 
 colossal man really became a Colossus of roads, for he strode 
 along with a vigour, and with strides that required all my 
 recent training on the moors and rocks of Cornwall to com- 
 pete with him. He had found a new pleasure, a new power 
 and I had to warn him not to abuse it. “ Ah !” said he, 
 “ now I am putting you to your paces,” and he stalked 
 on with a prodigious activity that astonished me. Luckily 
 it was downhill from the Wynd Cliff to the bridge at the 
 bottom of Chepstow, where the steamer lay, or I might 
 have found myself worsted in the rapid walk with my elated 
 companion. But it was all very well, for the bell was 
 already ringing on the steamer, and we had only time to 
 
TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 31 
 
 rush on board ere the plank was pulled back, and we were 
 afloat. My stout friend sat down with a laugh, but I 
 rather think, nevertheless, that he was glad the feat 
 was ended, for he sat very persistently during the voyage. 
 How little, when he had singled me out for his com- 
 panion to Tintern, did he know what a day might bring 
 forth ! 
 
ILaglait Castle. 
 
 Not farre from thence, a famous castle fine, 
 
 That Bag-gland hight, stands moated almost round ; 
 Made of freestone, upright and straight as line. 
 
 Whose workmanship in beauty doth abound, 
 
 The curious knots, wrought alle with edg£d toole, 
 
 The stately tower, that looks o’er pond and poole, 
 
 The fountain trim, that runs both day and night, 
 
 Doth yield in showe, a rare and noble sight. — 
 
 Churchyard’s Worthines of Wales. 
 
 AGLAN CASTLE, as in its greater 
 part it is one of the most recent castles 
 in Monmouthshire, so it must have been 
 one of the most splendid as well as ex- 
 tensive. The ruins, including the citadel, 
 occupy a tract of ground one-third of a 
 mile in circumference. As Churchyard states, who de- 
 scribes the stately fabric as it stood in all its glory in the 
 reign of Elizabeth, it is built of a fine light-coloured free- 
 stone, which was smoothly dressed, and is beautifully 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 EAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 grained. The stone has received little injury from time ; 
 most of the elaborately carved masonry remains as sharp 
 and distinct as when first executed ; and from the parts 
 which, except the roofs, remain entire, you receive a lively 
 idea of its elegance and splendour before it was dismantled 
 by command of the parliament after surrendering to Sir 
 Thomas Fairfax, and before its materials were plundered 
 by the tenants to build houses for themselves. The founda- 
 tions and remaining walls show it to have occupied an 
 irregular square, enclosing two courts ; the main residence, 
 including the great hall and chapel, and other splendid 
 apartments, running between these courts entirely from 
 north to south. This interior portion of the castle appears 
 to have been built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, for 
 it has all the characteristics of the architecture of her 
 time, partaking more of the hall than the castle ; its 
 windows being chiefly square and mullioned, and each 
 successive story divided by a running band. In the hall, 
 or banqueting-room, which is sixty feet long, and twenty- 
 seven broad, you are struck with the gigantic size of the 
 fire-place, and the singular structure of the chimney. At 
 the upper end are the arms of the first marquis of Wor- 
 cester, sculptured in stone, and surrounded with the garter, 
 underneath which is the family motto: — “Mutare vel 
 timere sperno.” — “ I scorn to change or fear.” The towers 
 of the external buildings are generally square, and not 
 
RAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 35 
 
 battlemented, but machicolated, so that their heads expand, 
 and give them an air of firmness and grandeur. In the 
 walls you can trace the changes of different periods, but 
 the earliest style is not anterior to the reign of Henry V., 
 and the latest comes down to Charles I. The main part 
 of the castle probably was built by Sir William ap Thomas 
 in the reigns of Henry V. and VI., and his son William 
 Herbert, created by Edward IV. Earl of Pembroke, and 
 Lord of Raglan, Chepstow, and Gower, in 1469. From 
 Dugdale’s account it is scarcely possible to conceive in the 
 present time the magnificence of the castle, and the great- 
 ness . of the establishment maintained in it by this Earl of 
 Pembroke. Yet the vast extent of the ruins, the evident 
 grandeur and number of the apartments, the size of the 
 offices and the cellars, give proofs of baronial magnificence 
 and splendid hospitality. In a curious account of the castle, 
 drawn up shortly before the parliamentary siege, and partly 
 printed in Heath’s account of Raglan Castle, the establish- 
 ment of its then proprietor, the first Marquis of Worcester, 
 the numerous officers of his household, retainers, attendants, 
 and servants, appear like the retinue of a sovereign rather 
 than a subject. He supported for a considerable time a 
 garrison of eight hundred men ; and, on the surrender of 
 the castle, besides his own family and friends, the officers 
 alone were no less than four colonels, eighty-two captains, 
 sixteen lieutenants, six cornets, four ensigns, four quarter- 
 
 d 2 
 
36 
 
 KAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 masters, and fifty-two esquires and gentlemen. The de- 
 mesnes of the castle were of proportionate greatness : there 
 were extensive gardens and pleasure-grounds, extensive 
 parks well stocked with deer, and numerous goodly farms. 
 The two courts of the castle were surrounded by offices of 
 all kinds, and the eastern court contained extensive barracks. 
 This court was called the Fountain Court, from a marble 
 fountain in the centre, surmounted with the statue of a 
 white horse ; but of fountain or horse no traces now remain. 
 On the south side of the castle stood the citadel, a large 
 hexagonal fortress defended by bastions, and surrounded 
 by a moat, over which passed a drawbridge from the castle. 
 It was called Melyn y Gwent, or the yellow tower of 
 Gwent, and when entire must have been a magnificent 
 object, for it w r as five stories high. From this tower a vast 
 prospect was enjoyed of the surrounding country, bounded 
 by the distant mountains in the neighbourhood of Aber- 
 gavenny. The citadel was surrounded by raised walks, in 
 which Charles I., when staying here during his wars, took 
 great delight. Great care has been taken since the resto- 
 ration of the monarchy, by its owners, now the ducal 
 family of Beaufort, to preserve the ruins ; and the w r hole 
 may yet be seen from some ^of the towers. The grand 
 entrance is, perhaps, the most magnificent portion of these 
 noble ruins. It is formed by a gothic portal, flanked by 
 two massive towers, now beautifully hung with ivy. In 
 
RAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 37 
 
 the porch are still visible the grooves for two portcullises ; 
 and the spectator on entering is greatly impressed by the 
 scene. A guide lives in one of the towers, and the Duke 
 of Beaufort has promoted the accommodation of visitors by 
 keeping the paths and stairs in good order, and by placing 
 seats for necessary rest. 
 
 The great point in the history of Raglan Castle is the 
 defence it made against the parliament in favour of 
 Charles I. By its strength and the spirit of its possessor, 
 Henry Somerset, fifth earl and first marquis of Worcester, 
 the power of Charles was so long maintained in South 
 Wales. It was nearly the last fortress in the kingdom 
 that surrendered to the republican army. The traces of the 
 outworks cast up in front of the castle and citadel, are yet 
 visible in the remains of bastions, horn works, trenches, and 
 ramparts. The marquis who made this stout defence, — 
 after the army which he kept up of fifteen hundred foot 
 and five hundred horse under the command of his son, 
 afterwards Earl of Glamorgan, was dispersed by the par- 
 liamentary generals, — was a great wit, and his smart say- 
 ings are preserved in a work called “ Witty Apothems of 
 King James, Charles I., and the Marquis of Worcester.” 
 Charles I. made several visits here during his campaign 
 against his subjects ; but when he was compelled at length 
 to retreat from Monmouthshire, the castle was invested by 
 
38 
 
 RAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 Trevor Williams and Colonel Morgan, and finally com- 
 pelled to surrender by Fairfax himself. The marquis, and 
 his son Glamorgan, are said to have lent to Charles I. at 
 different times £300,000 ; and besides this they lost all 
 their estates, valued at £20,000 a-year, which were con- 
 fiscated ; but restored on the return of Charles II. 
 
 The Strongbows seem to have been amongst the earliest 
 possessors of Raglan. Richard Strongbow, the last male 
 of the great family of Clare, according to Dugdale, conferred 
 this property on Walter Bloet, or Blewitt, from whom by 
 marriage it went into the Berkeley family, and so con- 
 tinued till it came into the possession of Sir John Morley, 
 and, by Maud his daughter and sole heiress, into the family 
 of the Ap Jenkins, alias Herberts, in 1438. Edward IV. 
 commanded William, whom he created Lord of Raglan, 
 Chepstow, and Gower, to continue the family name as 
 Herbert, and not to change the surname at every descent 
 in the Welsh fashion. To the custody of this Lord Herbert 
 he entrusted Henry, Earl of Richmond, afterwards Henry 
 VII., and he kept him in this his castle of Raglan till 
 Jasper, then Earl of Pembroke, the uncle of this Lord 
 Herbert, in his absence enabled Henry to escape, and fled 
 with him to Britany. Edward IV. then attainted Jasper, 
 and conferred the earldom on Lord Herbert. This is the 
 same Earl of Pembroke that Wordsworth mentions in the 
 
EAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 39 
 
 “ White Doe of Rylston,” as having his head struck off in 
 the porch of Banbury church, by one of the Cliffords. This 
 Earl of Pembroke being a staunch Yorkist, was defeated 
 and taken prisoner at the battle of Dane’s Moor, where he 
 headed a band of his Welshmen. His sole heiress married 
 Sir Charles Somerset, a natural son of Henry Beaufort, 
 Duke of Somerset, but in high favour with Henry VII., 
 and from him his estate and titles have descended to the 
 present Duke of Beaufort. 
 
 The family produced some remarkable men. This Sir 
 Charles Somerset, who, though illegitimate, descended from 
 John of Gaunt, was a man of great personal attractions, 
 and equal prudence and ability. Prudence and ability 
 were precisely the qualities to recommend him to Henry 
 VII., by whom he was employed in various foreign 
 embassies. He was equally in favour with Henry VIII., 
 and had a high command in the wars against Prance. He 
 negotiated the peace with France in 1518, and the peace 
 betwixt Francis I. and Charles V. in 1521. He represented 
 Henry VIII. at the coronation of the King’s sister Mary, 
 the queen of Louis XII. of France ; and betrothed 
 Henry’s infant daughter Mary to the Dauphin. We have 
 already mentioned Henry the fifth earl and first marquis 
 of Worcester — his determined partisanship of Charles I. — 
 his defence of Raglan, and his “ Apothems;” one of which 
 
40 
 
 RAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 was uttered when Charles showed, as he thought, too 
 much lenity to his enemies : — “ Well, sir, you may chance 
 to gain you the kingdom of heaven by such doings as 
 these, but if ever you get the kingdom of England by 
 such wayes I will be your bondman.” The old man was a 
 stout Catholic : his estates were confiscated, and, contrary 
 to the conditions of his surrender, he was committed to the 
 custody of the Black Rod. When told, however, that he 
 would be allowed burial in his family vault at Windsor, 
 he exclaimed : — “ Why, God bless us all, then I shall have a 
 better castle when I am dead, than they took from me 
 when I was alive ! ” He died at the age of eighty-five. 
 
 The son of this Henry was Edward, the sixth earl 
 and second marquis of Worcester, who was created by 
 Charles I. Earl of Glamorgan. Like his father, he was a 
 firm Catholic. This was the Glamorgan who was engaged 
 by Charles I. to bring over ten thousand Irish to enable him 
 to crush the liberties of England. The scheme failed ; he 
 was arrested by the Marquis of Ormond and Lord Digby ; 
 and Charles hastened to disavow the conduct of Glamorgan, 
 though nothing is better ascertained than that he acted 
 wholly in concert with the king. The transaction gave 
 immense disgust in England, and did the greatest mischief 
 to Charles ; even his staunch adherent, Clarendon, denoun- 
 cing it in strong terms. Glamorgan followed the fortunes 
 
EAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 41 
 
 of Charles II., and being sent to England on his concerns 
 in 1652, he was discovered and imprisoned. To obtain his 
 liberation, he offered to make important discoveries to 
 Cromwell : and these, after some hesitation, were accepted. 
 His son, who had hitherto lived in France, was permitted 
 to return, enjoyed the confidence of Cromwell, and a 
 pension of <£2,000 per annum. 
 
 This was the famous Marquis of Worcester who wrote 
 and published, in 1663, “ A Century of the Names and 
 Scantlings of such Inventions as I can at present call to 
 mind to have tried and perfected.” Horace Walpole sneers 
 at this book, little dreaming what was to come out of it, 
 and dubbed it “ A list of a hundred projects, most of them 
 impossibilities.” One which the clever biographer of 
 “ Noble Authors” would doubtless have considered the 
 most impossible of all, was the steam-engine, and in its 
 train all our present great steam and railway systems. But 
 in this work of the marquis was the following description 
 of a fire-engine, in the sixty-eighth article of the “ Century 
 of Scantlings — “ An admirable and forcible way to drive 
 up water by fire, not by drawing or sucking it up, for that 
 must be, as the philosopher calleth it, intrasphceram activitatis, 
 which is lost at such a distance. But this way hath no 
 boundary if the vessels be strong enough,” &c. He then 
 goes on to describe how he has forced water up a strong 
 
4 2 
 
 RAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 cylinder forty feet high, and how he could keep up the 
 action by admitting cold water by a couple of cocks, so 
 that as the water in one was being consumed, it could be 
 supplied first by one cock, and then by the other, &c. 
 
 This certainly was not the first time the idea of exercising 
 force by steam had occurred ; for Gibbon, in his “ Decline 
 and Fall,” relates how the architect of St. Sophia in 
 Constantinople avenged himself of the annoyances of his 
 next neighbour, a lawyer, by running pipes up his house- 
 side, and introducing them under his roof, and continually 
 shaking the house over his head by explosions of steam. 
 Neither does it appear that the idea was an original 
 suggestion of the marquis’s own mind or experiments, but 
 that in Paris he had seen the unfortunate Solomon de Caus, 
 who was confined in the Bicetre as a lunatic, for asserting 
 the wonders that might be done with steam. We are 
 afraid that the marquis, being of an experimental turn, 
 listened to the poor man’s supposed lunacy, and on his 
 return to England made a number of experiments at his 
 house at Lambeth, and boasted much of the wondrous 
 power of his fire-engine. But if the marquis did not do 
 proper honour to De Caus, he was destined to receive the 
 same treatment. According to the “ Experimental Philo- 
 sophy” of Desaguliers, a Captain Savary bought up all 
 the books of the marquis that he could lay his hands on, 
 
RAGLAN CASTLE. 
 
 43 
 
 burnt them, and started the idea as his own. In conse- 
 quence of the number of the marquis’s “ Century of Scant- 
 lings” destroyed by Savary, the book is very rare, but the 
 contents of it may be found in the eighteenth volume of 
 the “ Gentleman’s Magazine.” Thus from Raglan issued, 
 if not the origination of the marvellous agency of steam, 
 the great revolutionizer of the world, at least the revival 
 of it. 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE, 
 
Cnotirirlj Castle anir Court. 
 
 Through shattered galleries, ’mid roofless halls, 
 
 Wandering with timid footstep oft betrayed, 
 
 The stranger sighs, nor scruples to upbraid 
 Old Time ; though He, gentlest among the thralls 
 Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid 
 His lenient touches, soft as light that falls 
 From the wan moon, upon the towers and walls, 
 
 Light deepening the profoundest sleep of shade. 
 
 Kelic of kings ! wreck of forgotten wars, 
 
 To winds abandoned, and the prying stars, 
 
 Time loves thee ! At his call the seasons twine 
 Luxuriant wreaths around thy forehead hoar ; 
 
 And, though past pomp no changes can restore, 
 
 A soothing recompense, his gifts are thine ! 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 NE of the most striking beauties of the 
 river Wye, is the tendency which it has 
 to strike out fine circles in its course, 
 sometimes almost as true as if struck by 
 compasses. These, amid alternating rocks 
 and woods, and verdant meadows, are 
 not only delightful to the eye themselves, but give to the 
 advancing traveller all the charms of rural beauty. One 
 
46 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 of these fine sweeps occurs at Goodrich, about four miles 
 from Ross, in Herefordshire, and on a bold promontory 
 encircled thus by the beautiful stream, stand the remains 
 of Goodrich Castle, till the time of the wars of the Com- 
 monwealth one of the strongest fortresses of England. 
 
 This castle was granted in the fifth year of King John 
 to William Marshall, Earl of Pembroke, who married 
 Isabel, the sole heiress of the famous Strongbow, conqueror 
 of Ireland, and succeeded to his vast estates. He was the 
 same Earl of Pembroke who advised Henry III. to grant 
 the Great Charter. It afterwards went into the family of 
 the De Valences, from whom it passed by marriage to the 
 Talbots, Earls of Shrewsbury, and remained theirs till 1616, 
 when Gilbert, the seventh Earl, left three daughters his 
 coheiresses. To one of these, Elizabeth, fell Goodrich, and 
 she carried it by marriage to her husband, Henry Grey, 
 Earl of Kent, who died in 1639 without issue. The castle 
 and estate then passed to his next relatives, who became 
 Earls and afterwards Dukes of Kent. At the demise of 
 Henry, the last Duke of Kent of that family, it passed by 
 purchase in 1740 to the Griffins of Hadnock ; and a few 
 years ago it was bought by Sir Samuel Rush Meyrick, ol 
 Goodrich Court. 
 
 The castle is most famous for the stout resistance that 
 it made in 1646, when it was held for the king by Sir 
 Richard Lingen, against the parliament force under Colonel 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 47 
 
 Birch, to whom, however, it was eventually compelled to 
 surrender. 
 
 It appears that Colonel Birch marched out of Hereford 
 on the morning of March the 10th, with a party of horse 
 and foot, and was joined at Goodrich by the horse of 
 Colonel Kirle from Monmouth, and the firelocks of Rumsey. 
 They fell on the stables and took sixty-four horses, with 
 hay and other provisions. They burnt down the stables, 
 and then went into the passage-house, seized the officers 
 and soldiers in it, and invested the castle. The siege con- 
 tinued till the 31st of July, nearly four months. The castle 
 was exceedingly strong, being built on a rock, and of the 
 stone dug out of the ditch, so that the ditch was very deep, 
 and the walls and towers were raised on massive pyramidal 
 bastions, like some of the towers at Chepstow. The nearer 
 approach to the castle was defended by a succession of 
 gates and deep fosses and drawbridges. What these de- 
 fences were may be imagined from this recent description : 
 — “ The body of the keep is an exact square of twenty feet. 
 The additions made to this fortress down to the time of 
 Henry VI. begin with the very strongly fortified entrance, 
 which, commencing between two semicircular towers of 
 unequal dimensions, near the east angle, was continued 
 under a dark vaulted passage to an extent of fifty feet. 
 Immediately before this entrance, and within the space 
 enclosed by the fosse, was a very deep pit, hewn out of the 
 
48 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 solid rock, formerly crossed by a drawbridge, which is now 
 gone. About eleven feet within this passage was a massy 
 gate. This gate and the drawbridge were defended on each 
 side by loopholes, and overhead by rows of machicolations for 
 pouring down melted lead, &c., on the heads of assailants. 
 Six feet and a half beyond this was a portcullis, and about 
 seven further . a second portcullis ; and 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 high, 
 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 been forced, for a little further on are 
 massy 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 
 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 form a strong massy wall.” 
 
 In the days of mere bows and battle-axes this would have 
 been found an unassailable stronghold, and even Colonel 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 49 
 
 Birch, with such cannon and mortars as they had in those 
 days, seems to have been rather staggered by the sturdy 
 strength of the place ; for when he had lain before it till 
 the beginning of June, he wrote to the Committee of Par- 
 liament begging for battering cannon ; “ or else,” he said, 
 “ I may sit long enough before it.” He had, up to that 
 time, it appears, only two mortar-pieces, but the great iron 
 culverin was going from Gloucester, and two guns from 
 Ludlow. He reported the enemy very resolute within, and 
 very careful of their ammunition, trusting to their strong 
 walls. On the 1st of June he began to make regular 
 approaches “ within pistol-shot of the enormous rampiers, 
 intending when they were finished to shoot granadoes in 
 the mortar-pieces.” The prisoners they had taken informed 
 them that the besieged were well supplied with provisions, 
 and depended much on the strength of the castle. On the 
 13th of June, Birch summoned them to surrender, offering 
 them flattering terms, but they only laughed at them. 
 Whereupon they began to storm with their granadoes, and 
 tore down a piece of a tower. Still the besieged only 
 laughed at them ; and when they saw sappers at work 
 preparing mines at the base of the castle, one of the Cava- 
 liers called out, saying, “ they cared not for being blown 
 up, they could from the sky laugh at the flourishing Bound- 
 heads.” On the 15th of June Colonel Birch complained 
 that his ordnance was small, and had done but little execu- 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 tion. He had, therefore, sent for two great guns : all that 
 had yet been done having been performed by the two 
 mortar-pieces. But he reported that the mines were going 
 on well. Another letter on the 18th of July, reported that 
 they had made a breach in an upper wall, and that the 
 granadoes had done much damage, but “ yet they take no 
 more notice of it than if no enemy were before it.” Yet 
 the writer flatters himself that the great mortar-piece and 
 the mine would make them soon cry for mercy, and he 
 trusts that the estate of Sir Richard Liugen would make 
 amends both to the state and the besiegers. We must 
 suppose that the great mortar-piece and the mine had all 
 the effect that the writer anticipated, for on the 31st of 
 July the besieged had surrendered on promise of their lives. 
 This was the last castle which held out for the king, except 
 that of Pendennis. The castle was dismantled by order 
 of Parliament. 
 
 On the North side, where are windows for reconnoitring 
 the Wye, there is a charming prospect over the adjacent 
 country. On the West are the remains of the banqueting- 
 hall : and on the East those of the chapel, with an orna- 
 mented Gothic window. Near the hall is a curious 
 octagonal column, evidently the centre round which the 
 grand staircase was carried, but that and the tower enclo- 
 sing it are destroyed. 
 
 In the Memoirs of Wordsworth, we learn that the little 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 51 
 
 girl who is the heroine of his poem, “ We are Seven,” the 
 poet met with, not at Conway, where by poetic license he 
 has laid the scene, but within the area of Goodrich Castle, 
 in the Spring of 1793 : and thus the mystery is solved of 
 the little girl speaking English, or the poet so fully under- 
 standing Welsh. Hence in vain, though “ the grave is 
 green, it may be seen,” has the good woman of Comvay, 
 and no doubt many another person, hunted for it in Conway 
 churchyard. 
 
 A simple child, 
 
 That lightly draws its breath, 
 
 And feels its life in every limb, 
 
 What should it know of death ? 
 
 I met a little cottage girl, 
 
 She was eight years old, she said ; 
 
 Her hair was thick with many a curl 
 That clustered round her head. 
 
 She had a rustic, woodland air, 
 
 And she was wildly clad : 
 
 Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; 
 
 — Her beauty made me glad. 
 
 “ Sisters and brothers, little maid, 
 
 How many may you be ? ” 
 
 “ How many ? Seven in all,” she said, 
 And wondering looked at me. 
 
 “ And where are they ? I pray you tell.” 
 
 She answered, “ Seven are we ; 
 
 And two of us at Conway dwell, 
 
 And two are gone to sea. 
 
52 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 “ Two of us in the churchyard lie, 
 
 My sister and my brother ; 
 
 And, in the churchyard cottage, I 
 Dwell near them with my mother.” 
 
 “ You say that two at Conway dwell, 
 
 And two are gone to sea ; 
 
 Yet ye are seven ! — I pray you tell, 
 
 Sweet maid, how this may be.” 
 
 Then did the little maid reply, 
 
 “ Seven boys and girls are we ; 
 
 Two of us in the churchyard lie, 
 
 Beneath the churchyard tree.” 
 
 “You run about, my little maid, 
 
 Your limbs they are alive ; 
 
 If two are in the churchyard laid, 
 
 Then ye are only five.” 
 
 “ Their graves are green, they may be seen,” 
 The little maid replied ; 
 
 “Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door, 
 And they are side by side. 
 
 “ My stockings there I often knit, 
 
 My kerchief there I hem ; 
 
 And there upon the ground I sit — 
 
 I sit and sing to them. 
 
 “ And often after sunset, Sir, 
 
 When it is light and fair; 
 
 I take my little porringer, 
 
 And eat my supper there. 
 
 “ The first that died was little Jane ; 
 
 In bed she moaning lay ; 
 
 Till GOD released her of her pain, 
 
 And then she went away. 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 53 
 
 “ So in the churchyard she was laid, 
 
 And when the grass was dry. 
 
 Together round her grave we played, 
 
 My brother J ohn, and I. 
 
 “ And when the ground was white with snow, 
 
 And I could run and slide ; 
 
 My brother John was forced to go, 
 
 And he lies by her side.” 
 
 “How many are you then,” said I, 
 
 “ If they two are in Heaven ? ” 
 
 The little maiden did reply, 
 
 “ O Master ! we are seven.” 
 
 “ But they are dead ; those two are dead ! 
 
 Their spirits are in Heaven ! ” 
 
 ’Twas throwing words away : for still 
 The little maid would have her will, 
 
 And said, “ Nay, we are seven ! ” 
 
 In the Memoirs of Wordsworth we also find this entry : — 
 “ In the Spring of 1841 I revisited Goodrich Castle ; the 
 river from its position and features is a most impressive 
 object. I could not but deeply regret that its solemnity 
 was impaired by a fantastic new castle (Goodrich Court), 
 set up on a projection of the same ridge, as if to show how 
 far modern art can go in surpassing all that could be done 
 by antiquity and nature, with their united graces, remem- 
 brances, and associations.” 
 
 We may imagine with what astonishment our late 
 friend, Sir Samuel Meyrick, would have read this paragraph, 
 
54 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 had it been published in his lifetime. Sir Samuel, so far 
 from endeavouring to cast into the shade ancient art by- 
 modern, was the zealous admirer of all antiquity. This 
 building was designed and executed as an exposition of the 
 principles of feudal architecture, and intended to contain 
 those collections of ancient armour and other feudalities 
 which he had accumulated at so much expense. It was 
 projected to exemplify the style of architecture prevailing 
 during the reigns of Edwards I., II., and III. It was 
 designed by Blore, and the first stone was laid on the 23rd 
 of April, 1828, by Llewellyn Meyrick, Sir Samuel’s only 
 son, who was not destined to live to inherit this charming 
 place. Sir Samuel himself died in 1848, and the property 
 passed to his nephew, Colonel Meyrick, of the Scots 
 Eusilier Guards. Goodrich Court stands firmly on a bold 
 promontory of the Wye, with a wood running down the 
 steep bank to the river. It is backed by Coppet Wood 
 and hills at some distance, giving it a position of peculiar 
 beauty. Sir Samuel Meyrick, the author of the splendid 
 work on “ Ancient Armour,” had filled this mansion with 
 a collection of objects, which, if they had not won over the 
 poetic mind of Wordsworth from censure to praise, would 
 have enchanted the feudal tastes of Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 Goodrich Court is approached from the highway from 
 Ross to Monmouth by an arched gateway, called the Mon- 
 mouth Gateway, at about the distance of half a mile from 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 OO 
 
 the house itself. Arriving, you pass over the moat by 
 a drawbridge leading to a gateway, furnished duly with its 
 portcullis, and flanked by two round towers. You then 
 find yourselves on a fine airy terrace overlooking the Wye 
 far below, and in front of the building, presenting a variety 
 of round towers, gables, and turrets, full of detail, but 
 somewhat wanting in elevation to confer on it the full 
 dignity of a feudal fortress. In fact, with all its intended 
 style of antiquity, there is a modern aspect about it, not 
 merely resulting from its freshness, but from the mixture 
 of gothic fhfades, more appropriate to a monastery than a 
 castle. The chief tower is flanked with a strong bastion, 
 machicolated, and furnished with lantern, turrets and 
 spire. 
 
 The building incloses a spacious court, which is divided 
 into two by the grand armour}’. A porch on the left side 
 of the inner court leads you to the entrance-hall. In 
 a cavetto moulding over the archway in characters of the 
 time of Edward II., is the following inscription : — 
 Auspice Edv. Blore. 
 
 Sumptibus S. R. Metrick. 
 
 A.D. MDCCCXXVIII. 
 
 In the spandrels of the arch, on each side, is a stone shield, 
 sculptured with armorial bearings of the family. On the 
 door is a bronze knocker, designed by Giovanni di Bologna, 
 representing the destruction of the Philistines by Samson. 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 56 
 
 The entrance-hall is divided by an archway, and is adorned 
 with arms, hunting weapons, stags’-horns, &c., displayed 
 with great taste. The fire-place, of Pains wick stone, is 
 finely designed by Mr. Blore, the architect ; but the great 
 curiosity of the hall is a Bohemian pavoise, of the middle 
 of the fifteenth century. The hall at night is lighted by a 
 Greek lamp found in Herculaneum, rich in ornaments of 
 female masks and horses’ heads ; a head of Janus forming 
 the lid of the receptacle for the oil. On the principal door 
 is a curious carving of George and the Dragon, of the 
 time of Henry VII., in which the dragon holds his meat- 
 dish in his paws, containing the king’s daughter, ready to 
 be devoured. In the part leading to the staircase is a fine 
 oriel window, richly emblazoned with painted glass, repre- 
 senting Sir Samuel’s ancestor, Meuric or Meyrick ap 
 Llewellyn, of Bodorgan, in the island of Anglesey, esquire 
 of the body to King Henry VII., with the family arms, 
 crest and motto. From the hall a sallyport with draw- 
 bridge leads to the Ladies’ Terrace ; thence by another 
 drawbridge you cross the moat to the flower-garden, and 
 thence you can descend through the wood to the river. 
 
 To the left of the entrance-hall you pass into the gallery 
 of Henry VI., the length of which is one hundred and 
 six feet. The window is an admirable specimen of German 
 painted glass, representing St. George in fluted armour, 
 with the date 1517. On the right hand, in a niche, stands 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 57 
 
 a figure accoutred in probably the most magnificent suit of 
 armour in existence : beautifully embossed with bas-reliefs, 
 and inlaid with gold. It belonged to the Duke of Ferrara, 
 the patron of Tasso. It is one of those gleanings of the 
 world with which Buonaparte intended to enrich Paris, 
 and was designed for Malmaison, but did not reach France 
 before Buonaparte was dethroned in 1814, and was pur- 
 chased at Modena by Sir Samuel. 
 
 Quitting the entrance-hall on the right, you are intro- 
 duced to the Asiatic Gallery, in which are arranged a 
 great number of articles of costume, arms, armour, etc., 
 from India, China, and other parts of Asia. The room is 
 papered to imitate the walls of the Alhambra in Spain, and 
 there is a figure in Moorish armour brought from Spain, 
 made of pieces of hide cut into scales, and resembling the 
 lorica of the Romans. In the centre is a Pindaree warrior 
 on horseback. The chain-armour of the warrior and the 
 trappings of the horse were brought by Captain Grindley 
 from India, the head-gear being of solid silver. The whole 
 group was prepared from a drawing by Captain Grindley. 
 There are two glass cases filled with arms and armour from 
 various countries of Asia, including China. Behind this, 
 separated from the ante-room by a row of arches, is the 
 Asiatic Armoury, in which is a grand group of Indian 
 figures on horseback, to exhibit varieties of Indian and 
 Persian armour and costume. There is another glass-case 
 
58 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 containing arms and other articles ; and two others, one 
 on each side of the window, containing a variety of Hindoo 
 deities and Chinese curiosities. Then comes the South Sea 
 Room, similarly furnished with the weapons from the 
 islands of the Pacific, including a grand war-cloak of 
 feathers, brought from the Sandwich Islands by Captain 
 Cook. These rooms are curious and instructive, but they 
 are the least of all like what you are looking for in a 
 British baronial hall : you enter with a more satisfied 
 feeling the opposite suite of rooms. 
 
 The Banqueting Hall strikes you as perfect. It is 
 fifty feet long. Over the entrance is the Minstrels’ Gallery, 
 and on the dais or raised floor at the upper end is a billiard 
 table, on one side of which folding doors conduct to a 
 covered way leading to the stables ; on the other side, other 
 folding doors lead to the Hastilude Chamber. The roof 
 is of oak, high pitched, resting on stone corbels ; the floor 
 and panelling are also of oak, and the chimney-piece is 
 elaborately carved in Painswick stone, bearing on its 
 pediment an alto-relievo of Aylmer de Valence, the owner 
 of the castle in the time of Edward II., copied from his 
 monument in Westminster Abbey. From this window 
 there are fine views of Goodrich Castle, and of the valleys 
 of the Wye and of Lea Bailey. Amongst the paintings in 
 this room are Philip II. of Spain, by Coello, the Spanish 
 Court painter ; his daughter Isabella, and her husband 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 59 
 
 Ferdinand; Lord Howard of Effingham; the Queen of 
 James II., and Henry, Prince of Wales ; Villiers, Duke of 
 Buckingham, in armour, by Cornelius de Neve ; a trooper 
 of the Commonwealth, said to be Cornet Joyce, and 
 portraits of Sir Samuel and his son. 
 
 In the Hastilude Chamber you find yourselves in the 
 midst of a tournament, — men, steeds, spectators, lists, 
 heralds, the royal box, and the whole costume and appur- 
 tenances of the same. You have also, in the same room, if 
 our memory serve us right, the procession of Sir Samuel him- 
 self, when high-sheriff, with all his javelin-men in his livery. 
 Near this is a Chapel, fitted as all chapels were at the 
 supposed date, the time of our Edwards, in the Roman 
 Catholic style. The carvings and figures are many of them 
 of those times, others of Henry VI. The rich altar-cloth, 
 the large candlesticks, the croziers, the reading desks, and 
 other fittings, are all ancient and curious from their histo- 
 ries. But the especial room of the house is The Grand 
 Armoury. It is eighty feet in length, and you have the 
 history of ancient armour before your eyes on the backs of 
 figures representing known warriors, ten of these figures 
 on horseback. You have also ten glass-cases, containing 
 a series of arms and armour, down from the Greek and 
 Roman and the Ancient Briton, to the time when armour 
 was exploded by that terrible explosive, gunpowder. 
 Above these are ranged banners of many famous men ; 
 
60 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 and in the intervening spaces are eighty-four halberds, 
 arranged in groups according to their respective periods. 
 The oaken columns supporting the gallery are covered 
 with weapons of all known kinds, including the most com- 
 plete collection of the kind in the world. It was the 
 possession of this unrivalled assemblage of arms and 
 armour which enabled Sir Samuel to write and illustrate 
 his superb work on the subject. We believe that it was 
 from this armoury that the Austrians adopted the same 
 arrangement in the great armoury in one of the palaces 
 in Vienna. 
 
 It is an odd feeling that haunts you when walking 
 amongst this extensive collection of instruments of death. 
 You seem to have stepped out of the Christian world alto- 
 gether, and entered one of animals, bent above all things 
 on mutual destruction. What a wonderful exertion of 
 the faculties, from age to age, to devise some newer and 
 more efficient means of sending people out of the world ! 
 What an inveterate race of steel porcupines in the shape 
 of men ! If any one ever doubted of the fall, and that “ the 
 heart of man is deceitful above all things and desperately 
 wicked,” it would not, it seems to us, be possible to doubt 
 it for half-an-hour in such a gallery as this. The ingenious 
 inventions, and the costly productions, of many races and 
 generations of people priding themselves at once on being 
 Christians and exterminators of Christians : sons of the 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 61 
 
 Prince of Peace inveterately given to fighting. Such a 
 display of the weapons of death seems, indeed, to substan- 
 tiate the doctrine of the late actuary Finlayson, that “ war 
 is the natural condition of man, and peace is but the season 
 of exhaustion, and of recruiting himself for fresh encounters 
 of reciprocal murders. What a singular idea this gives us 
 of the human race ! — what a dismal illustration of universal 
 history ! That unhappy thing so happily called — ‘ the 
 great river of mingled blood and tears. 7 ” 
 
 Goodrich Court is for the most part thrown open to 
 public inspection, and is resorted to by throngs of deeply 
 interested visitors : but it is only by those who, like our- 
 selves, have spent some time in the house, that the vast 
 extent of its treasures of art and antiquity can be known. 
 There is a suite of apartments reserved for the family, and 
 not opened to the public. There are the library, the 
 dining, breakfast, and drawing rooms, the Doucean Museum, 
 the Sir Geliy Chamber, the chambers fitted up in the fashion 
 of and named after James I., Charles I. and Charles IPs 
 Galleries ; William III.’s Chamber, with the Prince’s, the 
 Herald’s, the Page’s, and the Leech’s Chambers, and the 
 Greek Room. In these rooms are contained a wealth of 
 articles of ancient art and vertu, of paintings and sculptures 
 and gems, that fill a large catalogue. We may, however, 
 mention one or two particulars. Miss Strickland, in the 
 
62 
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 “ History' of the Queens of England,” wonders what has 
 become of a certain ivory box, carved in the shape of a 
 rose, mentioned by Horace Walpole to have contained the 
 miniature portraits of Henry VIII. and Anne of Cleves, 
 painted by Holbein, and which, by the over-flattering 
 likeness of Anne, occasioned so much mischief. This is 
 securely deposited in a drawer of the library, and we must 
 say that if Anne had been as comely-looking as there 
 represented, even Henry could not have complained of her 
 plainness. The library table is of the time of Henry III., 
 and amongst the valuable collection of books is the original 
 edition of 1521, of Henry VIII. ’s Assertio Septern Sacra- 
 menta, contra M. Luther , which obtained for Henry the 
 title of Defender of the Faith from the Pope; with a 
 curious frontispiece by Hans Holbein. There are also 
 other relics of Henry VIII., and portraits of Luther and 
 his wife, Catherine a Boria. On the table of the drawing- 
 room is a pair of enamelled copper candlesticks, seven 
 hundred years old, with an inkstand and other articles 
 of nearly the same age. The Doucean Museum contains 
 the rich collection of works of art and antiquity, collected 
 by Mr. Francis Douce, and bequeathed by him to Sir 
 Samuel Meyrick, consisting of paintings of the Byzantine 
 and Italian schools, tapestry, drawings, engravings, carvings 
 in wood and ivory, enamels, cinque-cent bronzes, coins and 
 
GOODRICH CASTLE AND COURT. 
 
 63 
 
 medals, crests, antiquities of Greece, Egypt, Rome, Mexico, 
 Persia, China, and India. Besides this, every room has 
 its appropriate fittings and objects of historic and artistic 
 interest. During our visit at Goodrich Court we were 
 lodged in the ‘chamber of William and Mary. 
 
LANTBONY ABBEY, 
 
 
UTimtljAng §.bb(]r. 
 
 ANTHONY ABBEY, in the retired vale 
 of Ewias, in Monmouthshire, presents in 
 its remaining ruins one of the finest 
 specimens of the Norman-Gothic. It 
 was built in the year 1108 , in the reign 
 of Henry I., when the Norman rule, 
 and the Norman taste in everything, prevailed. All who 
 have seen the Abbaye aux Hommes and Abbaye aux Dames 
 at Caen, in Normandy, built by William the Conqueror 
 and by Matilda his queen, will be at once struck by the 
 resemblance, especially in the squareness and massiveness 
 of the outlines, and of the ample and square towers. In 
 these fine old remains we have that mingling of the round 
 arches of the past Saxon and the pointed ones then first 
 introduced. The pointed arches, too, are of differing 
 characters ; some are acutely lancet, others of a more 
 obtuse fashion. The building is divided at every separate 
 height of window by bands running along the whole fapade ; 
 and the west front in particular exhibits those unions of 
 arches, and also blank arches, which marked the progress 
 of Anglo-Gothic from the single round arches of the old 
 
 L 
 
66 
 
 LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 Saxon, into a greater freedom, airiness, and ornament. The 
 northern side has the least mixture of the Norman pointed 
 arch, and in the east are immense entrance arches of both 
 kinds. 
 
 Lanthony, like Glastonbury and many other monasteries, 
 had its literary monk, who became its historian ; and from 
 the monk of Lanthony we learn the following particulars, 
 as preserved by Dugdale in his “ Monasticon — St. David, 
 uncle of king Arthur, finding a solitary place amongst 
 woods, rocks, and valleys, built a small chapel on the banks 
 of the Honddy, or Black Water ; pronounced Honthy. 
 He passed many years in this hermitage, but after his 
 death it was deserted for several centuries. It still, how- 
 ever, retained the name of Lan Dewi Nant Honddu, or the 
 church of St. David on the Honddy, since corrupted into 
 Lanthony. But its restoration was by one William, a 
 military retainer of Hugh de Laci, a great Norman baron 
 of the reign of William Rufus, who, whilst hunting, sud- 
 denly discovered the mouldering hermitage of St. David, 
 and was struck by a desire to abandon the world, and 
 finish his days there. “ He dismissed his companions/ 7 
 says the monk of Lanthony, “ and devoted himself to God. 
 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 
 
LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 67 
 
 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 to the service of God. 
 That his zeal might not cool, he thus crucified himself, and 
 continued his hard armour on his body until it was worn 
 out with rust and age.” 
 
 He was afterwards joined by Ernesti, the chaplain of 
 Maud, the queen of Henry I., and they built a small chapel 
 in 1108. This was soon afterwards augmented by Hugh 
 de Laci, earl of Hereford, the patron of William, into a 
 priory of canons regular of the order of St. Augustine. 
 Large gifts of money and land were soon offered, but the 
 two brethren declined them, desiring to “ dwell poor in the 
 house of God and they were so earnest in defence of 
 their poverty, that they put up constant public prayers 
 against wealth, and deprecated its acquisition as a dreadful 
 misfortune. But their pious resolution, like that of all 
 other monks, was speedily overcome by the arts of a woman. 
 “ Queen Maud,” says the monk of Lanthony, “ not suffi- 
 ciently acquainted with the sanctity and disinterestedness 
 of William, once desired permission to put her hand into 
 his ffiosom, and when he, with great modesty, submitted to 
 her importunity, she conveyed a large purse of gold between 
 his coarse shirt and iron bodice, and thus, by a pleasant 
 and innocent subtlety, administered some comfortable relief 
 
 f 2 
 
68 
 
 LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 to him. But oh ! the wonderful contempt of the world ! 
 He displayed a rare example that the truest happiness 
 consists in 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.” 
 
 But the charm was broken ; gold had found its way into 
 the priory, and by its inevitable attraction abundance more 
 flowed after it. Splendid buildings speedily arose, and in 
 the midst of them a magnificent church. For a while some- 
 thing of the pristine discipline continued, however, and the 
 monk of Lanthony describes the place and establishment in 
 these terms : — “ There stands in a deep valley a conventual 
 church, situated to promote true religion, beyond almost 
 all the churches in England : quiet for contemplation, and 
 retired for conversation with the Almighty. Here the sor- 
 rowful complaints of the oppressed do not disquiet ; the 
 mad contentions of the froward do not disturb : but a calm 
 peace and perfect charity invite to holy religion, and 
 banish discord. But why do I describe the situation of the 
 place, when all things are so much changed since its pris- 
 tine establishment ? The broken rocks were traversed by 
 herds of wild and swift-footed animals ; these rocks sur- 
 rounded and darkened the valley, for they were crowned 
 by tall towering trees, which yielded a delightful prospect 
 at a great distance to all beholders, both by sea and land. 
 The middle of the valley, although clothed with wood, and 
 
LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 69 
 
 sunk in a narrow and deep abyss, was sometimes disturbed 
 by a strong blighting wind ; at other times obscured with 
 dark clouds and violent rains, incommoded with severe 
 frosts, or heaped up with snow ; whilst in other places, 
 there was a mild and gentle air. The large and plentiful 
 springs from the neighbouring mountains fell with a 
 pleasant murmur into a river in the midst of the valley, 
 abounding with fish. Sometimes, after great rains, which 
 were extremely frequent, the floods, impatient of constraint, 
 inundated the neighbouring places, overturning rocks, and 
 tearing up trees by the roots. These spacious mountains, 
 however, contained fruitful pastures, and rich meadows for 
 feeding cattle, which compensated for the barrenness of 
 other parts, and made amends for the want of corn. The 
 air, though thick, was healthful, and preserved the inhabi- 
 tants to an extreme old age ; but the people were savage, 
 without religion, vagabonds, and addicted to stealth. They 
 had no settled abode, and removed as wind and weather 
 inclined them.” 
 
 This is a sufficiently lively description of a location amid 
 Welsh mountains at that period. The monks were doomed 
 to feel the effects of the civil strife betwixt Maud and 
 Stephen. The Welsh took refuge in the convent, and, in 
 fact, seem to have taken free possession of it. They came 
 with their wives and children, and quartered themselves in 
 every part of it. The women took possession of the refec- 
 
70 
 
 LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 tory. They sang profane songs, and scandalized the holy 
 brethren “ by their light and effeminate behaviour.” Com- 
 plaining of this rude invasion to Robert de Betun, bishop of 
 Hereford, he invited the monks to Hereford, and then pre- 
 vailed on Milo de Laci to grant them ground at Hyde, 
 near Gloucester, where they built a church in 1136. But 
 this proved the ruin of Lanthony. The monks were too 
 much attached to the populous and more civilized city, and 
 refused to return to the old Lanthony when the troubles 
 were over. The new Lanthony, as the Gloucester esta- 
 blishment was called, received ample endowments from 
 King John and other benefactors. The monks were courted 
 by the great, and soon revelled in every species of luxury 
 and worldly pride. They claimed the pre-eminence of the 
 new over the old monastery. 
 
 “ When the storm subsided,” says the monk of Lan- 
 thony, “ then did the sons of Lanthony tear up the bounds 
 of their mother church, and refuse to serve God as their 
 duty required : for they said there was much difference be- 
 tween the city of Gloucester and the wild rocks of Hatyrel ; 
 between the river Severn and the brook of Hodani ; be- 
 tween the wealthy English and the beggarly Welsh — there 
 fertile meadows, here barren heaths. Wherefore, elated 
 with the luxuries of their new situation, and weary of this, 
 they stigmatised it as a place unfit for a reasonable creature, 
 much less for religious persons. I have heard it affirmed 
 
LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 71 
 
 and I partly believe it, that some of them declared in their 
 light discourse, I hope it did not proceed from the rancour 
 of their hearts, that they wished every stone of this ancient 
 foundation a stout hare. Others have sacrilegiously said, 
 and with their permission I will proclaim it, they wished 
 the church and all its offices sunk to the bottom of the sea. 
 They have usurped and lavished all the revenues of the 
 church ; there , they have built lofty and stately offices ; 
 here , they have suffered our venerable buildings to fall to 
 ruin. And to avoid the scandal of deserting an ancient 
 monastery, long accustomed to religious worship, and en- 
 dowed with large possessions, they send hither their old and 
 useless members, who can be neither profitable to them- 
 selves nor others, who might say with the apostle, We are 
 made the scum and outcast of the brethren. They per- 
 mitted 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 custom and rules of 
 the order. Sometimes they had no breeches, and could not 
 attend divine service ; sometimes one day’s bread must 
 serve for two, whilst the monks of Gloucester enjoyed 
 superfluities. Our remonstrances either excited their anger 
 or ridicule, but produced no alteration : if these complaints 
 were repeated, they replied, ‘ Who would go and sing to 
 the wolves ? Do the whelps of wolves delight in loud 
 music ?’ They even made sport, and when any person was 
 
'I A 
 
 LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 sent hither, would ask, ‘ What fault has he committed ? 
 Why is he sent to prison ?’ Thus was the mistress and 
 mother-house called a dungeon and a place of banishment 
 for criminals.” 
 
 The old Lanthony never surmounted these usurpations 
 of the new. Its library was despoiled of its books ; its 
 storehouse of its deeds and charters ; of its silk vestments 
 and relics, embroidered with gold and silver ; and the 
 treasury of its precious goods. Whatever was valuable or 
 ornamental in the church of St. John was conveyed to 
 Gloucester, without the smallest opposition, and at last the 
 Gloucester monks carried thither its very bells, notwith- 
 standing their great weight. Edward IV. made the Glou- 
 cester Lanthony the principal, but compelled the monks to 
 maintain a prior and four canons at the original abbey. 
 At the dissolution in 1539 the old Lanthony was valued at 
 £71 3s. 2d., and the Gloucester monastery at £648 19s. lid. 
 At that period Richard Hempsted was the prior of Lan- 
 thony, and on his surrender he obtained a pension of JP100 
 a-year. Anthony a Wood says that he carried away many 
 ancient manuscripts from the abbey, and gave them to his 
 brother-in-law. The abbey was sold to one Richard 
 Arnold, and was purchased of Arnold’s descendant, Cap- 
 tain Arnold of Lanvihavel, by Harley the minister of Queen 
 Anne, and so became the property of the Earls of Oxford. 
 
 In 1806 Lanthony was purchased by Walter Savage 
 
LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 73 
 
 Landor, the celebrated poet and prose writer. For the 
 estates of Lanthony and Comjoy he paid in purchase-money 
 and improvements £70,000. His improvements were ex- 
 tensive. He for many years employed between twenty and 
 thirty labourers in building and planting. He made a road 
 at his own expense eight miles long, and planted and fenced 
 half a million of trees, and had a million more trees ready to 
 plant. But Lanthony was not destined to become more 
 agreeable to him than it had been to the monks. According 
 to his own statement to us, he received such infamous treat- 
 ment from both his steward and his principal farmers, 
 during his sojourn on the Continent, that he determined to 
 abandon the place as a residence. He had built a house at 
 a cost of £8,000, but he pulled it down, stick and stone, 
 that his son might not be exposed to similar vexations by 
 living there. Two farmers especially, brothers, whose 
 united rents amounted to £1,500 per annum, refused all 
 payment till compelled by law, and then fled to America. 
 From these tenants the steward received £1,000 ; but 
 Landor says he never saw a farthing of the money, and 
 he was afterwards obliged to dismiss the steward too. He 
 states that he had twelve thousand acres of land at Lan- 
 thony, much of it, of course, mountain ; and that he had 
 twenty watchers of game on the hills night and day, but 
 that he never saw a grouse upon his table, though the game 
 
74 
 
 LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 cost him more annually than he lived at after leaving 
 Lanthony. 
 
 Such is the history of one of the finest monastic ruins in 
 one of the most monastic seclusions of the United King- 
 dom. Those who now visit it will find part of the priory 
 buildings converted into a small romantic inn : and, whilst 
 they contemplate the profound repose of its situation, will 
 little suspect the passions and discontent which have 
 agitated and embittered its history from the days of William 
 and Ernesti to those of the impulsive author of “ Ghebir ” 
 and “ Imaginary Conversations.” 
 
 Near the ruins of the abbey there is a subterranean 
 passage, faced with hewn stone, about four feet six inches 
 high. The people say that, according to tradition, it passes 
 under the mountains to Oldcastle, which, if it were true, 
 would connect it with another place of great interest — the 
 house of Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, the leader of 
 the Lollards in the reign of Henry V., w r ho concealed him- 
 self at this Oldcastle for some time, but was taken and 
 burned in St. Giles's Fields in 1417 ; being, says Horace 
 Walpole, “ the first author, as well as the first martyr,, 
 amongst our nobility.” 
 
LANTHONY ABBEY. 
 
 75 
 
 LANTHONY. 
 
 There maybe mightier ruins ; — Conway’s flood 
 Mirrors a mass more noble far than thine, 
 
 And Aberystwith’s gaunt remains have stood 
 
 The ceaseless shock where wind and wave combine ; 
 Lone is Dolbadarn, and the lovely shrine 
 Of Valle-Crucis is a spell of power, 
 
 That stills each meaner thought and keeps enchained ; 
 Proud of that long array of arch and tower, 
 
 Raglan may claim a rude pre-eminence ; 
 
 Tintern is peerless at the moonlit hour, 
 
 Neath, Chepstow, Goodriche, each hath its pretence ; — 
 But mid thy solitary mountains, gained 
 By no plain beaten path, my spirit turns 
 To thee, Lanthony ! and, as yet untrained, 
 
 Freely to worship in thy precinct yearns, — 
 
 Now, left to nature’s Pilgrims unprofaned ! 
 
 


 
 
 
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